Blame It On Netflix

January 17, 2017:

Rocket, Groot, Peter Quill and their mysterious Robot Friend are our for a night of searching for aliens. They get more than they bargained for when they draw out some of the strange creatures that have been sighted around Gotham and New York.


A run down neighborhood on the edge of Gotham proper.


NPCs: Mysterious Robot


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The mean streets of Gotham have been home to the Guardians of the Galaxy for the past few months. Well mean to most people, but with a ten foot tall tree, a triggerhappy explosive expert, and the most awesome and handsome and intelligent pilot in the Galaxy they aren't really that mean. Most people seem to shy away from them. Which is why their strolls are usually uneventful.

…except of course when they happen to be looking for trouble.

Which of course Star-lord is.

And since the /last/ time he forgot to inform his ever annoyed traveling companion he got yelled at he's trying to explain.

"Look its that gem thing." He is saying to Rocket as they walk along. "Some kind of…mystical magical stuff is happening with it. And these monster things want it. They tried to eat Kitty and I but it was fine in the end." A pause. "Before you ask Rocket, she only slapped me once and it was totally worth it." He adds before he draws out a deep breath. "Anyway, I wanted to make sure none of those things were around Shadowcrest, and…well we need to find that Saskarian ship so we can kick their ass too."

"Frack we have a big to do list."

"-wait, you still /have/ the thing? Why is it that we always end up with some shiny gem thing that EVERYONE in the flarkin' galaxy wants except us?" Rocket shakes his head, looking at Star-Lord like he's crazy. It's nothing unusual, but he thinks that after one near destruction of a planet with a mysterious power gem thing they'd learn to keep their distance away from others that did weird things.

"Sure we can't just sell it or something? Or does this one have the potential to obliterate all life as dirtball planet knows it?" Pause. "-and was that slap counting when she slapped you at the mansion or is this a separate slapping incident?"

Trailing a little ways behind the other two Guardians, Groot is making his way downtown, walking fast enough to keep up with them as they discuss and banter. The 'giant walking tree' bit sounds like a stretch, but he's able to fill such a tall order. Besides, he can't help but tower over everyone else when they're the ones being so short all of the time.

Looking from Quill, to Rocket, and back to Quill, the tree tilts his head. "I am Groot," he offers as an add-on while busily processing everything else. Another pause passes before he nods. "I am Groot."

"Yawnokomido Sawkarem Varumata Maroi. Ka."

The robot who had come to the aid of Peter Quill and other heroes when they fought off the vicious ninja turtle men walks with them, apparently having thought it prudent to stay close to Peter Quill.. for some reason. And though he clearly does not speak any earthly language, and his sub-vocal oscillations speak great volumes in layers beneath the various words, it could be you'd need robot ears to understand them.

But just the tone of his words says he absolutely agrees with Peter Quill.

Which already puts the robot's judgement in question, unfortunately. Still, he moves with a fluidity his many, silvered and slivered layers do not allow alone, but the red energy that seems to bind him together, flowing like so much nanoblood, seeps light from between his various seems.

The robot looks between Quill and Rocket as they converse in amiable, even keeled tones that display their love and affection and respect for one another, and fill the robot with a sense of belonging and family, nodding his head along in a slow clip, as if he understand every deep emotion they are obviously sharing with one another.

Of course when Groot adds to the narrative, the robot wishes he had tear ducts, so he could cry as the display of brotherhood and manly comradary grows.


Then the robot is gone, leaping back in a flip, one hand on the hilt of the short sword at his back, the other helping to steady himself against the shoulder of Groot, who he lands on only briefly as he bounds, it seems, over a building.

Did the Robot just run away from them?!

"I don't have it /on/ me! Kitty won't let the damn thing out of her sight. And that was the /second/ slap. Which wasn't as hard as the first so I'm starting to make headway." Quill's logic is unassailable! Which means he just won't listen to any other kind of logic on the subject.

"We can't sell it though, Thor would come after us and I don't want a freeking god after my hide. Once is enough!" He adds as he pulls out an energy tracker. Its what he's been using to try to find the Saskarians. "You think I'd still have the thing if we could dump it somewhere. After some kind of magic /thing/ is hunting it?"

A shake of his head. "Kitty says is the safety switch of some kind of world destroying magical cannon thing, so letting it get away could be bad for multiple reasons."

A glance behind him at the tree and the robit and he just nods. "Yeah. Take it one step at a time. Saskarians first. At least we know what those are right?"

He has no idea what Groot just said, so he's totally just going to assume it was agreement.

And then the robit runs away…

"…was it something we said?"

"You get any of that? Cuz I sure didn't." Groot's language seems so much easier to grasp, but then that's probably because he was locked up with the guy in jail for how long.

Rocket nods, presumably in agreement with Groot's words. He smirks at Quill, and after a glance at his tree pal, nods. "Oh, I guess it's better with her than you. ….um, and why's Thor care about the thing?" That's still a detail he hasn't been quite enlightened on- actually did they ever figure out where they picked it up? Hmm.

"Can't blame me for askin'. I thought Terra was gettin' to your head." And then he stops, staring at Quill. "Oh. Is /that/ all."

Yeah, that right there was dripping sarcasm.

Rocket blinks, following Quill's glance then as their new metal friend suddenly acrobats its way…away. "….huh. Yeah, um. Maybe it's not so hot on us having access to some magical world-destroyer switch."

Groot shrugs. It's telling when the walking ent with a limited vocabulary can't even translate what their new robot friend has said. The most he gets is that he's a pretty cool guy who hangs around cool people like them. Because they're awesome.

But he looks just as puzzled the moment he's used as a post, blinking as the robot goes flipping back and off and away in mere seconds.

After a few more seconds of silence, a long, gnarled finger points at himself, then in a vague direction of where the robot ran off to.

"…I am Groot?"

Just before the robot disappears behind some fence or over some wall, it's lighting seems to dim, and the scrabbling of it's hands that seem to be able to grip any surface for a climb fades away. It is a sound of eerie calm from that direction, punctuated only by Peter and Rocket and Groot's pondering.

Maybe he just couldn't take the emotion of that moment, as kindred spirits, warriors all, trekked across the blasted landscape of this primitive non-space faring world.

Wait, Gotham isn't a post apocalyptic wasteland? Could have fooled the robot. What a dour place.

"Wait did I only tell Groot?" Peter peers back at the tree, even as he notes the robit's odd disappearance. "That this is the reason we are here. That is what we are supposed to be guarding. Since. You know. We got arrested." WHICH TOTALLY WASN'T HIS FAULT. "Now Kitty is guarding it too, and Zee whenever she gets back. But I'd rather figure out a way to get rid of it so we don't /have/ to keep a big flargin' target on our backs."

Speaking of big freeking targets…

…what the Guardian's /don't/ know is that the gem itself has some power. Power it doesn't mean to use. Power that links people in contact with it to said gem. Power that gives some kind a special 'scent' to said gem.

At least they are almost out of town at that point.

One of the few remaining building before the massive national park sits behind them. Groot would see it first. An odd pinpoint of blue light, just a single one almost like a flashlight. Different though. Its color the unnatural blue of a frozen corpse.

Rocket might feel something watching them. The fur on the back of his neck starting to stand on edge as some malevolent gaze passes by.

That light that the good tree can see is joined by a second, then a third.

…but…its…fine? Yeah. Sure. Totally fine.

"No one said we were guarding anything!" That he can remember. Rocket scowls Quill-wards. "And since when do we ever /not/ have a target on our backs?"

He moves to jump onto Groot, clambering up to get a better view in the direction the taller one points. "Yeah, seems like, but I dunno where that is, or why," he mutters in response to the walking tree.

Guilty by association, in a way then. Well, it's a good thing Rocket never touched the th- oh wait, he stuck it in his mouth. Welp.

His mouth pulls into a tight line as he furrows his brow, eyes darting around at the sudden unease that prickles his senses. Even his tail seems tensed, not so much relaxing as it lowers, but it curls closer towards him. Already he's reaching behind him for his favorite rifle.

"I am Groot."

Not like his point will help anyone at the moment — what's done is done. He then glances the other way, still wondering what happened to the robot while studying their surroundings a while longer.

This all should look familiar to the tree now that they've walked these streets, and as boring as it can be, it still holds some interest.

Like that pinpoint of light shining out in the distance. That's new.

As the raccoon climbs up his side and onto his broad tree shoulders, Groot squints, lifting a hand to shield his bark brow from the dim lighting. "I…?"

And then one light becomes two. Then three. And then…

Groot keeps staring, but his hands go to poke carefully at Rocket and Quill to make sure he's not seeing things. "I am…I am Groot!"

As the sense that someone or something is hunting the Guardians of the Galaxy eases over the visible trio and lights shine in the distance, a a metal shadow hunts the hunters, creeping past the last building and towards trees and bushes. Slowly. Silently, it watches, fingers curling around the weapon at it's back, while it's knuckles part and blades unfurl into the shape of shurikens.

It poises on the edge of action, and it's particular set of instincts reach beyond this reality and into the Machine Realm, where it grasps at the forces of entropy given purpose, charging the Momentium metal of it's frame in preparation for some yet unseen threat. Slowly it's head descends from it's place where it hangs upside down from some tree or another, a creeping, metal, sloth-like nightmare waiting to be unleashed.

Rocket can see those lights now, and so can Quill. "Aw hell." Is all Peter will mutter before he's reaching under his coat for his twin pistols. Now Rocket can see them those lights begin to slither down the building, faster than any human could rappel down.

One passes under a flickering streetlight as they hit ground level.

It might have been human at some point, but now? Not its not. Not in the least. Scraps of cloth hang from a gaunt frame of skin pulled taunt over bone. A deformed maw glows with that unholy blue light, filled with too many teeth. Hands that are too long for a human, claws of bone showing though torn fragments of skin as it lopes towards the trio on the road.

There are three of them, and they don't look friendly.

The lead one lets out a sudden hunting howl as they pick up speed. The trio of figures charge down the road towards them, unaware of a death sloth in the trees and seeming to pay little attention to Groot either. No. They only have eyes for Peter and Rocket.

"Right." And the pistols are snapped up. "Just keep hitting them and hope they stay down! I don't have any wizards in my back pocket!"

"I see 'em buddy, I see 'em!" Rocket says, shifting in place for a more favorable position on Groot's shoulder. "-what the flak am I seein'?!" He thought they looked humanoid, but other than that, they look downright disgusting.

Swinging his rifle around in front of him, with a satisfying *sh-chik!* readies it to fire. "Pfeh, now that's somethin' you don't gotta tell me twice." His finger squeezes the trigger and stays there as he levels the thing about to spray the incoming bogeys with blasterfire.

If he had skin, it would be crawling after seeing one of those things step into the light. A prickle would have sufficed, really. Or a shudder.

The howling makes Groot flinch, but he doesn't falter. Instead, he shifts ever so slightly for Rocket to have better footing, hunching forward as one usually does when faced with a combative situation. Long arms are kept square to either side of his wood-twisted body, everything braced either as an instinctive reaction to Rocket's itchy trigger fingers or in case of a head-on collision with those corpse-like creatures.

Okay, so he also roars back because it's not fair for them to scream their heads off while they're attacking. Intimidation, he's got this.

The lights come on just as the attack begins, howling monstrosity streaking towards the robot's brothers in arms. It has no clan now, aimless and lost to the ether of this place, and so it treats Peter, Rocket, and Quill as if they are his own. Red lights up his frame, seeping from between his various piece, and with a great leap into the air he lets those shurikens fly, the whirling hum of focused momentum burning at the very edges of reality itself as they streak towards one monster.

In truth it was a tactic of distraction, meant to draw the creature away from one of it's primary targets of Quill or Rocket.

It might look in the direction of the robot just in time to see to see it close the distance between them in a blurred streak of motion, drawing it's sword as it goes to bring burning, sizzling heat to bear with power enough to warp and tear reality, to say nothing of flesh and bone.

It is a dive that will put the robot in the thick of them as they close, hoping to stop their momentum and force them to re-assess their engagement. Unfortunately it means some amount of friendly fire will pick pieces of it apart, sparks flying as rockets withering assault pummels through - at least it doesn't look like it's much worse for wear, bleeding energy and turning to face it's foes up close.

Blade and blasters converge on the unnatural things charging towards the Guardians. If nothing else Peter and Rocket are damn good shots. Rounds slam into the creatures, Quill concentrating on removing one of their legs.

He succeeds. The monster crashing into the pavement.

Rockets rounds shatter though the chest on the second in line, great rents torn in flesh and bone. Blue energy leaks out though the holes made in its body and lines of frost form where they touch the ground.

The third is relieved of its head, the skull thumping to the ground and rolling towards the grass on the side of the road. That same frozen energy leaking from its severed neck.

That is when things get…strange.

Well more strange.

The one without the leg twists and writhes on the ground and there is a sound of snapping bone from the body. Those bones morph and flow to create a grotesque new limb for the creature, which it then proceeds to leap towards Groot with. One long sword-like claw of bone aimed to stab into the tree to it can drag itself up and get to Rocket.

The one Rocket shot? It picks itself up and hurls itself at Peter as the pilot fires wildly.

The third? Well missing a head just seems to have pissed it off. Those claws slash towards the robots legs, driven by a mystical strength that can rend steel.

Not typical response to a decapitation.

There's always something so therapeutic about peppering everything with blasterfire. Rocket shouts emphatically as he unloads, although he pauses as he sees the streak of red from something else come in to take out one of the charging thingies. "-huh." Well, that answers one question, at least. Now, where was he? Oh, right. OBLITERATION.

His grin is something feral as he sees another of the grotesque figures fall, his shots hitting home. "Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about! ….wha?" Grin fading, his furry brow arches as he sees the thing- no, not just one, but all of them in fact, are very much still mobile by whatever dark… /demonic/ for all he knows- power seems to be keeping them together.

"-WHOA!" The raccoon grabs onto the side of Groot's head, trying to get a better look at the thing trying to climb his friend- and look for a clear shot. "What the heck're these things?!"

"I AM Groot!" It's a victorious response when all three creatures are properly shot full of holes and decapitated beyond repair, and Groot knows full well that Quill, Rocket, and their pal Robot have done what they do best. It isn't the destruction of a city block, but it's still satisfying to watch.

That is, until /that/ stuff happens.

"/Groot/— ?!"

The tree gets a closeup view of the creature who has replaced its missing leg with whatever it has on it, bringing up an arm to keep it from landing cleanly. He feels it cleave into his bark as he tries to push it off and back for Rocket to get a clean shot, growling in annoyance at this inconvenience.


The digitized shout from the robot echoes through eternity, and it draws upon the memories of it's fallen brothers, a fading memory even it cannot fully grasp. A sliver of emotion. A remnant of rage. The blade twists in it's hands as the creatures come for it, flipping sidelong but losing some leg plates to grabbing claws.

Perhaps a remnant of rage is enough.

The robot ends it's cartwheel with a change of grip on it's sword, which burns with a fury from another dimension, and then it is the blur again, racing towards it's foe to parry, slash, and rend, engaging it in the only universal language it knows: The language of violence.

Even Quill and Rocket and Groot will benefit from it's rampage, plowing through the air to take swipes at the other monsters from odd angles, but it knows that keeping one fully occupied until it's new friends can finish their cunning ruse is far more valuable than drawing it closer to anyone else.

What's that? What cunning ruse? Well, the robot is /certain/ it's new friends are luring these creatures into a false sense of security. If only they could have communicated better so that when they sprung this trap on these creatures, they could have struck an immediate, killing blow!

The robot will just have to settle in and wait for their well organized, professional, unshakable leader, Peter Quill, to bring forth his well thought out, expert, unbeatable, 100 of a plan.

Any time now.


Here it comes.

Yes. The cool. Calm. Unflappable leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy. Hero of Xandar. Savior of a an entire civilization. Brilliant man who risked life and limb to distract a Kree that called himself a god. Surely he can come up with a brilliant plan to get them out of this kind of situation.


Yup. There you go. 12% of a brilliant plan.

That's all the budget has time for.

Quill though at least follows though with his plan, dancing backwards as the creature pounces towards him. Then further backwards. The blasters fire again and again, this time aiming to sever the monster's spine cleanly.

Which he does.

Its back half falls separate from the front and surprisingly enough the bone hindquarters crumble to dust.

Must have a limit on the regeneration.

…the forward part of the monster though continues to scuttle forwards, swiping and snapping at the dodging Star-lord.

"They can't regenerate forever! The'll run out of whatever before we run out of bullets!"

Yup. 12% of a plan.

The headless wonder takes several more slashes, red energy meeting blue in a shower of sparks as it looses one of its claws. The one clawing up Groot rears back, aiming to try a slash with its blade-like limb high enough to spear Rocket but the prestigious strength of the Groot has it stumbling backwards instead of the direction it actually wanted to go in.

That robo-thing isn't bad in a scrap at all. Although if these creatures keep pulling themselves together to attack them then there might not be enough scrap to sever from Mister Roboto before it hits something essential to movement.

Rocket can't keep track of it but he trusts it knows what it's doing. Which is a little more than what he knows he's doing because right now it is a pain trying to figure out how to properly shoot something that's climbing up your buddy's leg! At least Groot has the right of it, swatting it back with his powerful limbs.

Rocket won't even comment as Quill yells his brilliant quarter-baked plan. That's because keep on shooting until things don't move is practically default setting for him. It might even be that he's too preoccupied with trying to line up a decent shot with the not-dead thing. When Groot manages to shove it back, Rocket jumps onto his arm and resumes blasting the thing while it's thrown off balance. "EAT. THIS. AND. DIE. PERMANENTLY!"

Best. Team. Ever.

Following Quill's fractioned plan to a tee, Groot gets too distracted with his own problem to appreciate the artistry in the Robot's swordsmanship. Thankfully his little buddy is quick to finish the job once he reclaims some of his personal space again, grunting as he holds his arm steady.

With his free hand, he rips off the chunk of his own leg that has been gouged by the blade limb moments earlier, yelling as he swings it back to beat the undead creature on the side of his head. Or anywhere Rocket hasn't obliterated.

When the Hero of Xandar cries out with his plan of 'gistqeepchuting' followed by their artillery expert calling out what must be a deeply rousing shout for great victory of 'eetdisundIpurmently', the robot looks up and up after delivering a vicious cut that plows down the center of it's opponent, and then criss-crosses it's body in a flurry to leave it in far to many small pieces to become a threat. Well, hopefully.

Where did it look? To the Prophet. To the Herald. Master of Arms of the House of Leaves. Dignitary of the Garden of the Soul. When the great tree speaks the Robot dips his sword, squares his chest, and trembles with inspiration.

It hears the call, the rise to action. It knows the echo of the tree's roar and knows only one truth in this terrible timeline, which as far as it knows, is the darkest timeline:

We are Groot.

With a mightly leap it gains height, and then it dashes once more, it's sword held in that underhanded grip to trip a blinding tear of energy through the air with a sizzling crack that whistles in the wind.

Peter will see it coming. See it coming RIGHT for him.

The blade bisects what is left of the creature he is fighting, the blade stopping just inches from their pelvicly ensorceled leader's face.


Yaw, indeed.

Quill raises up one boot and plants it firmly on the things face. Dangerous, but when he follows it up with unloading repeated blasts into both of its shoulders it actually pays off. Bone splinters under the assault as its arms flop to the ground.

Peter doesn't quite get out unscathed as his let takes several claw strikes that leave him bleading and annoyed.

The thing though? Its not moving. That light is fading. In fact its misting away into the air almost like fog.

Between Rocket and Groot the creature has little remaining chance. It gnaws on Groots arm, scrabbling forwards to try to strike at Rocket. The volume of fire combined with Groot playing golf with its body though does not leave it with much in the way of bone left work with.

The third one, it is reduced to many small pieces. The animating force slowly ebbing away like steam into the dark night sky.

…mercifully its quiet out.


…not that it stops Rocket from making sure the thing is completely pulvarized. What bits might have been but mere dust from the combined onslaught of himself and his taller counterpart are thoroughly blasted until the ground in front of Groot is charred and smoking. Rocket stops, breathing heavily as he glares down at the smoldering spot before he shoots it once more for good measure. "And stay down!"

He leans against Groot, his hand probably needing to be pried off of the grip of his rifle but he wants to be ready because sometimes the peaceful quiet can be very deceptive. But no foreign chills run down his spine, and he doesn't hear anything else other than maybe a slight, fading sizzle. Sighing, Rocket looks around at the others.

"…so what the flarkin' hell were those things?!?"

Well, so much for quiet.

By his judgement, Groot is very sure the thing's dead. With a visible sigh of relief, he tilts his head toward Rocket's lean, dropping the wood chunk to pay some attention to the flaking bits of bark falling off of his gnawed arm. "I am Groot," he frowns after his friend breaks the silence, turning his arm over for one last inspection prior to glancing back at the rest of the crew.

Looks like Quill and Robot friend are doing okay. At least, it seems that way — he's sure he's seen his fellow Guardian in his present disarray before. Which means he's fine. Robot has very good reflexes, not stabbing into Star Lord's face with that sword.

He smiles. "Yaw!"

As the master plan of Peter Quill sees their enemies drop like flies, as Rocket lives up to his namesake, and as Groot groots all over them, the Robot takes a step back and carefully slides it's blade into it's sheath at it's lower back with a satisfying click. As the robot straightens it surveys the field of battle, and raises a two-fingered salute to his allies s they forge friendship over the bonds battle! Or so it hopes.


The robot sounds solemn, as if saying a prayer for the dead. Really, he's just commenting on how the battle is now over, and they must go back to existing in this decaying city-place, with all of it's darkness and Bat-people that seem to haunt it.

That's right. It's noticed the Bat People!

Even as the robot looks to the others to make sure they are not beyond repair, more metal plates slowly slide into place, like regrowing a loss fingernail, emerging from the voidspace underneath that links the robot to The Machine Realm.

Then, it hears it. Suddenly, the robot turns with it's entire body, looking up at Groot as the massive plant attempts to speak it's language. But it's like hearing the first letter of every word of a fifteen page poem, and though it is delighted it's new friend thinks it worthy of communication, and it's metal heart surges, it does not understand.

Finally the robot walks to Groot, reaching up to pat at his bark.


"I have no idea! Who do I look like, Gandalf?!" Peter shouts back at Rocket as he thumbs his back against a tree and pulls his leg up to try to get a better look at the wounds. "That English guy who is doing whatever to Zee said something about otherworldly constructs or something! I told you though, monster things!" A gesture at the trio of bodies that are even now fading to dust. "Those were small ones too, or weaker than the one that got after Kitten and me."

Muffled cursing as he peers at his shredded leg. "Think I can get a ride back, Groot?" Its not serious. At least not too serious. A bit of a bandage and he should be fine, but it still hurts to walk on.

"Glad to see that if we throw enough pain at em though, they go away." A pause. "You guys did good." A pause. "You two robot." A longer pause. "I can't call you robot all the damn time. So what do we call him?" A pause. "Hal?"

"But now you see why I wanna get the Saskarians off our backs, so we can deal with the…" He gestures vaguely. "…things!"

Very scientific that.

"What, so these're the things you were talking about??" Rocket eyes the ground distrustfully as though expecting more of the creatures to pop up, but he eventually hops back down Groot, folding up his rifle before he slings it over his back again. "You all right there, Quill? What if you get rabies from the thing? Or the T-virus?"

Well what else do you expect them to do when they're not shooting things or making bombs? Media streaming has become Groot's favorite pasttime.

Rocket folds his arms, glancing from Quill to the robot in question. "I vote for T-One Thousand. But that's kind of a mouthful," he notes, watching as the bot apparently also has its own self-repair system of sorts. "Huh, would'ja lookit that."

What was that? Oh, right. Quill is speaking again.

"Yes, okay. That make sense. We can blow up Saskarians easily. These things, well, at least it's nice to know they still blow up. Still takes more effort. Maybe I should juice up this gun."

…Yeah, maybe the raccoon and the tree shouldn't have watched that horror survival flick days before facing these now-dead things. Groot nods as Rocket talks, watching him hop off so he has room to straighten up and do…whatever he does.

As he walks over, he pauses to look down at the pat from the robot, returning the favor with a hearty tree pat of his own. Whatever robot friend says, he can only guess it's a blend of garbled appreciation and comraderie. "I am Groot."

See, they're bonding!

He attends to Quill's question last, giving the man prompt nod. "I am Groot!" And being Groot, he then proceeds to pick him up.

Now, Star Lord doesn't specify /how/ he's taking that ride back. Piggyback? Fireman carry? Actually, bridal style sounds the most plausible. Easier to maneuver, anyway.

Certainly, the robot has a name, but unlike Groot, it cannot state it. Not in any meaningful way to it's very new friends. And so it looks at Quill when it thinks to give the robot a new name, and then Rocket as the tiny ball of fur and malcontent weighs in. Groot has the best suggestion, as per usual, but even that suggestion escapes the robot.

The last time it was in battle, it knelt and scratched something out. Here it does so as well. Six long lines, before raising it's photoreceptors to look at all those gathered. It does not expect them to understand, but still it tries, rocked by Groot's clap to it's back, and then it turns to stare up and away at the stars.

Perhaps one day it will find the person it needs to find. To warn her.

Something is coming.

/He/ is coming.

"Woah! Hey now watch…where…wait!" Quill was going to climb on his back but finds himself hoisted up before he can manage. Princess carry?

Oh hell no.

So he scrambles out of Groots arms to perch on the big tree's back. Leaving Rocket room on as arm. "There. Better."

"They didn't have a freeking T-Virus. I should take away your damn streaming rights when we get back! I'm not gonna get rabies either…what have you two been watching?" He grouses as he tries to setlle himself. "I have no idea what they are but I'm not turning into a stupid zombie." A pause. "Would be devastating to my sex life and that would just be a shame for all those girls out there I haven't met yet."

Peter Quill. Always looking out for other people he is.

"Lets just get back to Shadowcrest. We can look at the sensor readings I've run across town and that'll make things easier." A pause. "…and that English guy said that those things didn't really die…they just reformed somewhere else."

…yet again one of those 'Important Things He Should Have Possibly Mentioned First'.

Ah well. They handled it.

"Come on Hal!" They can all call him different things. "Lets get back…"

Rocket snickers as he watches Groot scoop up their lil' ol' Star-Lord. "Aw Quill, why you gotta be like that. Groot was only being thoughtful. So don't you dare take away streaming rights because that's almost all he ever does at home now. You can blame Kitty's purple lizard."

It's okay, he'll walk. Having Groot tote them all around would be silly. There isn't any parade going on right now. Besides, if anything else pops up, the raccoon wants enough space to whip out his rifle. "-and there you go, not making sense again- I thought everyone here on this side of dirt planet speaks English! If there's anything else you feel I might need to know that, oh I don't know, might be /important/ on the account of it possibly affecting the well-being of me and Groot, then you'd better spit it all out now, Quill, before we get to Zee's front door."

Well, Quill's self-repositioning saves him the trouble of trying to fix it himself. Groot looks a little disappointed, but he recovers nicely once they his fellow Guardians about his watching habits for a bit.

That Netflix, man. It's a black hole and he got sucked into it.

"I am Groot," says Groot, now more focused on seeing if the Robot with Many Names will follow along after them. He may as well start walking so that they can actually get back in time to continue the rest of that new series about unfortunate children…

"Naw, I think that about covers it. Demon-things trying to kill us. Saskarians after us. Someone is trying to kill Zee and we might have to blow them up, and might not. Depends I guess if they ask nice or not. Vader and Princess Science seem to be fine. So yeah. That's everything."

A pause.

"And damn Rocket no. This isn't like Xandar. No unification government. There are like a billion different stupid languages on Terra. Just we landed in a place where everyone spoke English. Thank god. I don't even wanna try to figure out how to explain you two in a language I don't know."

He sighs though. "Come on then. Lets get back and see what they have on steam that /isn't/ a horror film!"

He doesn't even want to see Groot having nightmares in Zee's living room. Again.

"That better be it. If there's anything else that comes up and you happen to go 'oh yeah, forgot to mention that one!' then Groot can slap you upside the head, okay? Okay."

Rocket would love to do it himself but that'd require effort unless he had the luck of being perched somewhere at eyelevel with Quill. He begins to walk along, taking point since Groot's got princess Star-Lord on his back and T-1000 is just standing there. "Have you /seen/ what kinda crap they have to choose from? You can't blame us for watchin' what we watch."

"I am Groot," Groot adds with a huff, approving of this idea since he only catches the last part of the conversation. Again. Because he's a good listener.

Right. He should pay attention to the street. There's no telling if they'll get ambushed again, and Quill won't like it if he's used as a bludgeoning tool for a second round of undead things.

…Which is all the more reason for the 'parental guardians' to monitor what they watch from here on end. Which will be fine with him.

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