We aim to misbehave

Characters: Star-Lord Rocket
Rated: PG-17 - comic violence
Summary: Those of the Milano are broke. Time to find a new payday!
OOC Date: Dec 27, 2017
IC Date: Dec 27, 2017
Where: Deep space

Peter Quill, AKA Star-Lord, AKA one of the greatest thieves of all time… is broke.

And not just 'gotta hit the ATM up'. The credits are gone, the ships' been emptied of cargo, and Rocket and Groot had eaten the last ration pack in the cargo hold.

The correct thing to do would be to pawn the Milano for a short credit loan, or take a legitimate delivery run to get fuel and food for the trip. A short three-day spacer haul could net them enough money to keep flying.

So of course, they're robbing a cold storage repository.

Wearing a parka liner for his heavy Ravager coat, Peter gestures at Groot hastily to get him to crouch a little as he finagles with the door's electronic locks. "Groot, would you _crouch_ a little?" he whispers, hoarsely. He yelps as he crosses two wires and sparks singe his fingertips. "Damnit! Who puts a grade five scanlock on a cold storage building?" he grumbles to neither of his companions. It's a cold day on the planet Ekteron; the night sky is covered with heavy blue clouds, and the lone light comes from a flickering frost-colored lamp overhead and subtle illumination from Star-Lord's mask.

"Rocket, you got the security system spliced yet?"


Let's face it… legitimate delivery runs are BORING. There's nothing to see, nothing to shoot at, nothing to kill.

Boring, and as far as Rocket is concerned, less than satisfying. Like that packet of Torellion nibbus meat he just.. oops.. was that the last packet?

Groot is hovering, yes.. hovering over Peter's work, and as the human works, the tree-creature is trying to be helpful, pointing out little bits and adding, "I am Groot…", followed by, "I am Groot.." and finally, a post-Peter shock of, "I am Groot…". Disappointment.

From a slightly warmer position, the 3' ball of spit fire is in the back, grumbling and grousing, blowing on cold fingers. "Not yet.. ooooh, hello…" If Rocket could whistle, he absolutely would. "Oh, you gotta see this… I got a whole listing.. oh baby.."

"I am Groot."

"No, Groot, that's not all. I'm almost… Ah ha! There."


"Good, because I'm in— there!" Peter hisses in triumph and the door slides open.

It's a cold storage facility. Literally— it's where negative mass thermal capacitors are stored. Critical portions of advanced spaceship designs, they act as heat sinks with almost limitless capacity. Rows upon rows of them are stored on upright stands, a complicated array of tubing and laser emitters surrounding something that looks suspiciously like a blue vacuum tube.

"Feast your eyes on these babies, Rocket," Peter says, activating his thermal shielding with a glimmer of ruddy orange light. "Two of these will keep the Milano working for months. They use these on the big warships, you know, the big spacer jobs," he remarks, heading deeper into the long rows.

He stops in front of a storage unit and snaps his fingers at Groot, beckoning. "Groot, bring me the transport box," he says, eying the storage unit. "And remember, don't touch these! You'll lose a finger or a nose or something. I knew this kid once, back on Earth, he licked something like this and they cut his tongue off," he warns. "They called it a Christmas Story, to remind kids about not mishandling guns and stuff."


The pair work well together, though Rocket, at the very least, would NEVER admit to it. At the sound of victory from both parties, the raccoon gets that wide, toothy grin again, dark eyes lighting in the dim light. He's 'safely' ensconced in the Milano, watching every move on camera as Peter moves forward. He's itching, though, to get out and into the fray now that his part of the job is done, and donning his little suit, he's got his got his faceplate in place tucked behind his fuzzy ear. Finally, the little guy steps out and into the truly bone-chilling surface.

"@$$%@!#$&, it's cold.." Rocket begins, only to be shut down again by a disapproving, "I am Groot."

"Yeah, yeah…" and again, as Rocket comes forward, working to catch up, he considers the story, "Really? Damn.. so you got a lot of tongueless humies there?" It doesn't make a lot of sense, and his ears flatten to the side, quirking his head, and he shrugs as he comes back around to the main reason they're there.

So. Much. Stuff.

"I am Groot.." is acknowledged, and the transport box is grabbed with what can only be called 'tendrils', bits of Groot-growth that is pulled back with ease.

Rocket, for his part, is scanning all those smaller bits that can be easily stowed away in a pocket, a bag…


"Rocket!" Peter hisses at his conspirator. "Don't touch that stuff! These things will kill us in seconds if the containment grid destabilizes!" He reaches for one of the cryo cells with a set of special gripping tongs and transfers it into the special storage container in Groot's hands— finger— tendrils. A shimmering energy shield pops up around it to contain the freezing force of the tiny heatsink.

"Keep an eye out for the local cops, willya? There's nothing in here worth as much as these cells, and we've got just enough room to take ten of them. So don't steal anything else, for once!"

He focuses on the task at hand, and soon half a dozen of the cryo cells are closely nestled in the protective transport case.


"Stealing? Re-allocation of assets. Stealing is such…" Rocket moves down a side path before jumping up one, two, three levels of storage shelving before he disappears into the goods, "a harsh word." Okay. "Okay, stealing. But we need it, and they obviously…" His tones sound a little distant, as if he's not really paying all that much attention to speaking and more with some other little task. *ahem*

"Hey.. you oughta see this.." Before the masked 'bandit', there are 'bridges', bits of tech that bridge between mechanical tech and a bio-based tech. "Where have you been all my life?" One, two.. they're not too large; a little bigger than a 'pocket size' and smaller than 'back pack'.

Groot is holding the containment box, watching carefully while listening for his friend. "I am Groot." He sounds dubious and perhaps may echo some of Peter's sentiments. Such a stick in the mud!

"Cops think this place is too secure.." Rocket 'hehs' softly, "Stupid.."


Eight down, four to go, and Peter's carefully clutching a cryo cell in the tongs when an alarm starts warbling atonally. He yelps and almost drops the cryo cell, eyes going wide— but saves it at the last second with a precarious grip of the tools in his hands. He gets the cell stored, treating it like the explosive device it basically is, then looks for Rocket. "Rocket, I— Rocket? ROCKET??"

He whips his head around, alarm on his oddly-illuminated face as the thermal shield glows and ebbs. "Damnit! Groot, grab the bag! We gotta bail, they're gonna be here soon! ROCKET! Drop whatever you're stealing and let's GO! They don't just fine you for stealing these!" he says, hastily trying to cover their tracks while Groot closes the bag up.


"Just one more.. hold on.."

Rocket is taking a third 'for the road', sticking it into a backpack (too big for his pockets) as the atonal alarm begins to sound. He doesn't jump like Peter does, but he does look up and around quickly, 'scampering' across the shelving to take the leap to the next. (Flying raccoon!) Finally, he's at a point where he has to descend, and once he hits the floor, he looks around for his partners.

"Where.. aw.. do they cut off tongues too?" Rocket's ready to pull out his gun just at the thought of that, but before that happens? He's on his way so he can get someone (Groot!) to watch his back.

"Where are you, Quill— oh, time to go… damned shame, too."

As for Groot? He's got the box, more little growths come out of the tree-being to grab the bag, and he's ready to go. As if it's encouraging, he offers a parting, "I am Groot."

"Yeah, buddy… I'm coming…" Though now, Rocket is more walking backwards, checking the way he came before spinning around to beat feet back to the ship.


"No, they cut off a /hand/," Peter snaps at Rocket. "These are the backbone of their economy! We'll be lucky if all they do is cut a hand off— we might get executed! C'mon, we've got to get back to the Milano!"

He dashes out of the cold storage facility with Groot hot on his heels, and digs for the blasters strapped to his thighs. One gun in each hand, he whips his mask around, looking for targets. "Groot! Don't let that bag get shot, or we'll all spend a thousand years as ice sculptures!" he warns the giant tree.

"Rocket, can you remote start the Milano? We're gonna— ack!"

He leaps sideways, plunging into a pile of snow and narrowly avoiding a whipcrack of an energy weapon. A dozen yards off, two Ektaron guards aim weapons at the trio. Creatures of ice and rock, they wear crystalline clothing and lack facial features that most humanoids would respond to.

Their guns, however, whipcrack with a violent sizzling impulse of resonant energy and the energy discharges blast neat pockmarks out of the metal wall behind them.


"I need my hands, and if you ask me, it's worse than executing. I mean, think about it.. can't—" Right, Milano. Rocket bursts out behind Groot and Peter, and the moment the sizzling sound of an energy weapon discharge is heard, he's starting evasive maneuvers, pulling out his own large-ish gun. Groot is taking defense to heart, and as he lumbers, he's growing a veritable thicket around his back, shielding (as best as he can) from any shots.

"$&#*$#," is muttered by a certain Raccoon, "Don't you know how to do it?" Why be argumentative? Because he's going to miss all the fun of the firefight because he's dealing with the ship and saving every one. Dammit. "Yeah, yeah, Mr. 'I'm the best pilot'.. can't even #$^ start the ship remotely.." Just because he can, or rather, is in a 'mood' because they've been interrupted, Rocket takes a pot-shot back behind him, as he reaches to tap on a wrist-display. In the distance, there is the distinct display of heat registering from the engine core of a certain starship.


"/I/ have two guns! I am using both my guns!" Peter shoots rapid-fire at the guards, trying to suppress them with the quad-blasters set to 'deep and crispy'. "You've got one gun, and you've got a hand free! Just— start the damn ship, willya?"

One guard takes a hit in the chest and drops with a heavy grunt, creaking atonally in pain. The other scampers back behind cover, presumably calling for backup. The klaxons continue to warble angrily— no doubt there is a big response coming down the pipe, given the value of the items in Groot's backpack.

"Groot, big steps, buddy! We've gotta get out of here!" Peter activates his rocket boots with a *whoosh* and flies in a big, hopping jump. He clears enough of an angle to get defilade over the remaining guard and knocks the attacker down with a two-gun blaze of fire, and lands with a heavy, stumbling stride that turns into a mad sprint.


Rocket makes a whining-sounding mimicry of Peter's last comment before he lets off another burst of fire, taking one of the guards out from the side, causing the downed foe to fly backwards into another of his kind. It's a delaying tactic (other than the 'death' of the first foot-soldier type), and he's beating feet towards the ship, a maniacal laugh now exiting. No doubt they're only feeling the first wave of 'love'; the automatic response generated by some alarm will quite probably be ratcheted up once someone actually looks at the telemetry of the 'battle'.

"I am Groot." Groot is getting his steps in, even as he grows that shield around him; he's just not as quick as the others is all. As he moves, there's a flash and 'shards' of twigs and branches blow off, clipping the side of Groot's shield. He's undeterred, however, as he makes his way. The bits torn off regrow quickly.

Rocket's path brings him up and over and around bits and pieces of blown wreckage of 'oops, didn't mean to hit that' items. He's rolling through cover, coming up on the other side, getting a shot off at a likely looking target before he's turning tail and getting those few more yards in on the dash.


More guards. More gunfire. Peter flings a marble sized object with a whipping motion of his arm, and it explodes in a massive, smoking grey cloud that obscures them from their opponents. The Milano's engines hum to life and the ramp drops down, opening up for the trio to dash into the ship's confines.

Peter hustles up to the bridge and flings himself into the pilot's seat, jabbing at the controls. "Rocket, whatever trick you got for their security, now's the time to fire it! If their air defense system starts firing, it'll ventilate us before we hit atmosphere!" He fires up the engines and with a screech of impeller rolls flaring to life, the Milano starts hovering and the landing gear retracts.


Rocket gets one, two, three more shots off, "Boom! Murder you!" before he finishes his dash up and in, covered, thankfully, with the bit of grey cloud. He had the engines warmed up, at the very least, so the moment Peter touches the controls, the ship is more than happy to do what is asked of it. Mostly.

"Oh wait now.. I'm thinkin' that I'm the better pilot, and while you suck at everything, at least I'll be able to fly us out of your pathetic attempt at disrupting security." Rocket looks forward, dark eyes set on Quill in the 'chair', and his own is empty at the moment. He stares for a long moment before he exhales, and shakes his head, ears flattening out and to the side. "Right, dumbing it down so even a human can do it.." Security systems.

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, I know.. just better to take 'em all down, I guess."

Rocket settles in, finally, to his spot, reholstering his weapon, and as he straps in, his little fingers are running across a control panel as a red light begins to flash. "Hey.. you might want to know about—"


The Milano shudders violently and the external shields crackle with light. "Woah!" Peter shouts, fingers pulling the controls to juke the Milano laterally. "Damnit! They've got defensive weapons online— ROCKET! Would you stop screwing around back there?!" he demands over his shoulder, the Milano flying nape-of-the-earth and weaving between low buildings at the edge of the city. "If you don't get their air defenses offline, we can't clear five hundred meters without getting shot down! And I do NOT want to be on this ship if those cryo cells explode!" he bellows. More gunfire crackles against the Milano's shields.

"We've got company, two fast skimmers closing in on our six!" Peter informs the others, his voice tense with worry.


"At least they won't be cutting our-" The rest of Rocket's words are cut off as the Milano shakes and shudders in the strike. Bursts of light crackle, and the raccoon finds his voice once again. "If I was flying the damned thing, this wouldn't be an iss— whoooooa… okay… you might want to-" Pull up?

Rocket is working on his bit now, his attention on the displays before him; the 3D holographs giving him a good look into the systems. "Come on.. oh, aren't you something? How 'bout I toss a little.."

"I am Groot." The lumbering tree.. creature turns from stowing the containment box and heads to his gunnery position. Settling himself in, Groot is ready and getting tactical displays up.


"Look, /I/ did the scouting, /I/ cracked the doors, /I/ got the special cryo gear!" Peter fumes, shouting back at Rocket. "You had TWO JOBS. One of them was to take out the security grid!" He grits his teeth and flinches as a starburst of energy discharge slaps against the shields, which crackle a warning red light.

"And the other one was DO NOT STEAL ANYTHING!" he bellows. "And we know you did that ANYWAY! So the least you can do is implement this awesome plan you told me you had for taking down the security grid, ROCKET! The plan you said was perfect, ROCKET!"

There's a lengthy pause from the cockpit. "Rocket, please tell me you weren't just bullshitting me about having the grid knocked offline," Quill says, with a worried tone.


"Right now, I think your job is not to get us shot out of the sky," Rocket shoots back. "At least I could do that." He wiggles his fingers in gesture before him, sticking out a finger; quite probably the wrong one for that 'finger salute'.. he's still working on that. "And not going over ancient history." Like, what his part of the whole heist was supposed to be. "I got this. Just fly the damned thing. If I have to knock it all out so an idiot can fly through it, then that's what I'll have to do." He snickers before he finishes, "Idiot."

The 3D projection is still up, and as the Milano gets clipped again, the raccoon is working on his bit. Weapons fire from the ship, striking a wing off one of the pair 'at six o'clock', and it goes down, tumbling into the ground. Rocket mutters under his breath, no doubt continuing the 'discussion', though very much one-sided at this moment. Bits of red and blue appear on his screen, and the red blips begin their convergence on a blue sector. "Just keep us from blowing up for 20 seconds. Think you can do that, Quill?"


"Farking trash panda," Peter mumbles under his breath, eyes fixed on the skyscape as they bob and weave. "tell me how to fly my ship— YEAH. Twenty seconds, Rocket! Just… get it done, before they mobilize the defense fleet!"

Peter makes the Milano dance, twist, and dive, and if it wasn't for the gravity simulators they'd be smacking their faces against the bulkheads. He's still a talented enough pilot that anything not secured goes flying violently before the inertial dampers can keep up.

Four of the local patrol ships join the chase, and the Milano stays ahead of them only by deft piloting and Groot's use of the weapons. Two more ships go down and a third is clipped to the point it's forced to land heavily.

Peter flicks two overhead switches and shunts power to the ion engines. "Rocket, I'm coming up on the exit point! If you don't get the grid down, we're going to have to burn through atmosphere to the next safe lane!"


"Twenty seconds—" Of course, the stuff that goes flying may not have been… accounted for, exactly. *cough* After all, who thinks that everything has to be stowed at all times? Pfft.

Rocket is working on his hacking, and as the red bits converge on the blue in a *tick*tick*tick* pattern, his attention is fixated. Thankfully, he's strapped in.

Five, four, three… it'll be close, to be sure, and as the seconds pass, Rocket's black eyes move from his screen towards the front, back and forth. It's just as they hit the jump marker that his red marks converge on the blue, and there's a flash of cascading light as the Milano pushes through. Even a second later, should Peter be looking at his tactical HUD, little blips on the screen begin to pop out of existence, not unlike bugs on a windscreen behind them. "Take that, you… hand-cutter-offers."


Peter doesn't sit around and worry about what might be happening on the ground— he brings the Milano's nose in line with the jump point and slams the gate drive into gear. The ship launches through the jump point, and seconds later they're two star systems away.

Peter jumps twice more, just to be sure they've shaken off any pursuers, then slumps in his seat with a sigh of relief. He dismisses his helmet into the storage container behind his ear and swivels in his seat. "Looks like we lost 'em. They'll be looking for us for weeks. Let's plot course for Knowhere and we'll offload the goods."

"What was your 'big surprise' for the security grid, anyway?" he asks Rocket, his temper subsiding now that they're not in danger of dying. "You were playing it close to the vest there."


Rocket sits silently in his seat for a long moment, his head quirking as he watches the screen. One, two.. three.. things are disappearing off the screen before him before he loses the transmission due to the second, third jump. Finally, he unstraps himself and starts to move forward and flops into the pilot's seat next to… the pilot's seat. Strapping himself back in deliberately, he looks across at Peter consideringly. "Yeah, we lost 'em. They lost 'em too.. every last one of 'em that was in the air." He begins to chuckle and looks forward again, "Let's just say we probably don't want to be seen by them for a little while." He'd rigged the security to back 'wash' and to set destruction sequences to the ships that were in the air. So, not only did he get the field to drop for them, when it came back up, it actively 'guarded' the gate.

"Let's get our cash. I'm tired of eating outta pouches."

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