To The Victor Go The Spoils

March 28, 2017:

War had been wrought, and the day…was won. In the park.

A park


NPCs: Some unfortunate pre-teens



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

This….was war.

The grassy field is littered with colorful remnants of torn rubber and here and there, an overturned, plastic bucket. Guns of ridiculously blazing colors and just as many sizes and shapes lie abandoned, their long ammunition spent. And then there are the bodies…

Some lay on the wet grass, their sides heaving as they try to catch their breath, their faces contorted in pain- or is that laughter? Others sit sobbing, their clothes thoroughly soaked. A few limp away awkwardly, wet clothing clinging to their skin as they decide that it's not worth it to continue fighting. Kids. …and that they are. Their ages range from preteen to mid, and by the looks of it, they've been completely trounced.

Harsh laughter barks out over them, taunting those who escape, heaping coals on the cry-babies, echoing across the park's stretch of greenery. Standing at the top of an old jungle gym made up of metal bars to form the frame of an airplane, Rocket cackles as he hoists up a pair of overly large water guns nearly his own size. His fur is slightly wet, but water still sloshes in the reserves of his liquid-blasting rifles.

Victory. Is sweet.

"I told you. You don't mess with Rocket."

Off to the side, Groot chuckles a throaty chuckle of amusement. The swing he occupies creaks lazily under the tree alien's weight as he rocks himself back and forth by his root-covered feet, idly turning a large bucket over in his hands.

He did feel a little bad for those kids, but…to be honest? They had it coming. They should have known who they were dealing with. It wasn't his fault they couldn't understand anything more than his standard 'I am Groot' warning.

Although he has experienced the brunt of the war, Groot feels refreshed. He even looks a little brighter in the green department. But enough about him. It appears the white flag has been figuratively raised.

"I am Groot," he calls out after a pause, grinning at his furry space pal and his final stance above his victims.

"-naw, I'm not done gloating yet," Rocket calls over his shoulder before returning his attention to one of the criers. "Hey. None'a that sissy stuff. You dug your grave when you took that first shot at me. Hey. Hey. Yeah you, I'm talkin' to you." He takes aim and gives the poor kid a squirt to the back of his head.

Bawling, the kid lurches to his feet and takes off running for the sidewalk. Others start to gather up their guns, tossing smaller ones into buckets. "Hey, gimmee back my guns!" one of the bolder ones shouts up at Rocket.

"I got these off you fair an' square!" he retorts, giving a malicious gesture with the things. "Spoils of war."

"You suck!"

"No, you do- did you see how bad your aim was? But here, since I'm such a nice guy- oh wait, I'm not. Hahahahaa!!"

There's a hollow snort in reply, followed by a shake of the tree's head. Of course he's not done. When he makes a point, he makes a point. But he knows his little friend gets carried away. That isn't new, and there really isn't much else he can do aside from letting him run until he gets bored of it.

"I am Groot," he shrugs at one of the pre-teens. No victor ever leaves the battlefield empty-handed. Losing means losing everything. Isn't that how it works?

Still, this is Rocket. The odds have been in his favor since the beginning of the water fight. He considers, tapping his twiggy finger against his bark-covered chin. "I am?"

The kid who'd been told off gapes at the cackling raccoon as though he's not quite sure how to process this. Some of the others who had been watching look to be in the same boat, casting an even more lost look at Groot who unhelpfully comments in his limited way. Someone makes the mistake of trying to get in one last potshot at Rocket, instead finding themselves hit square between the eyes with a jet of water.

"Okay, I think I've made my point. I'm done here, Groot," the raccoon says as he hops down to one of the outstretched wings of the plane, closer to his tree friend.

A blink of surprise passes over his wooden features. "I am Groot," Groot says with an approving nod, getting over how shortlived the rest of Rocket's gloating is while leaning forward to stand at his full height. As the metal frame groans and chainlinks resonate against each other, the swing is finally free to rock on its own.

The bucket is tossed aside, hollowly bouncing across the park grounds and into one of the worn-out creatures set on top of a giant spring. "I am Groot!" he waves at the remaining kids, glancing back down at the raccoon to see where they are heading next.

One of the kids shouts something rather rude back at Groot before helping his fellows gather their remaining munitions. Rocket snorts and then hops up onto Groot, somehow managing to clamber up despite having two water rifles. He hands one off to Groot as he takes up his usual perch upon the tree-man's shoulder.

"I'm hungry. Whaddya say we get some eats? Or a decent drink- an' not one of those cafes with the frou-frou coffees that cost a full meal's worth."

As he walks, he accepts the other water rifle, testing its weight as Rocket settles on him. "I am Groot." Groot feels like he's up for anything, having no preference whatsoever. He can understand not wanting to go to a pretentiously trendy cafe after having fought a raw battle against growing human youngsters.

"I am Groot," he adds after a little more thought has been put through, his free hand creating a circle with his thumb and finger.

Rocket grins toothily at that. "Can never go wrong with pizza. Or cookies. Let's go, buddy." He gestures with great gusto, the water sloshing in its tank. Already he's brushed off the water war from a few minutes ago, but then it hadn't been anything spectacular. Of course, they'd gone up against a bunch of kids that had first made the mistake of thinking him an easy target and then calling him names. And unfortunately Groot's warnings had fallen on deaf ears.

It always seems to happen with him. It's like he should know by now no one ever listens to what he has to say. A minor setback, but one that is easily forgiven with the prospect of food.

The tree brightens and almost salutes, quickly deciding it a bad idea because he still has the water gun in his grasp. It won't hurt him, but it would still be a little jarring. A spring in his step emerges as he sets off on their quest for pizza and cookies, eager to sink his tree teeth into both at the same time.

Which is gross, but that's Groot for you.

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