[OPEN | EVENT] a long night spent with your most obvious weakness

[beatupgrass]

Who: Rocket AND YOU
Where: The Checkerboard Hills and around the mansion
When: September 17th-20th (during the event)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rocket's got a healthy dose of Shattered Sight, which makes him more ornery and paranoid about the people around him's intentions than usual.
The Story:

At first, Rocket's convinced the event didn't do a damn thing to him- that all it was going to do is spit smoke and vomit glass (glass that, while painless, still left him rubbing his face for ages afterwards). It's not as if he's not constantly bitter and paranoid and expecting the worst out of people.

Except as the night wears on and gives way to the usual sleeplessness, he can examine his thoughts more closely, and he doesn't like what he sees there. The relationships he's started to form here suddenly seem hollow and almost pitying. And why wouldn't they be? He's a freak, isn't he?

By the time dawn arrives on the 18th, Rocket's stormed out of his room and parked it around the Checkerboard Hills with some targets to practice his shooting to keep his mind from wandering. Unfortunately, every single target eventually shifts in his mind to a person he knows- a person he's trusted enough to call a friend, giving him disgusted, pitying looks, and muttering under their breaths about what kind of little monster he is.

And with a snarl, he obliterates each one.

He stays out there most of the time or else skirting the edges of the mansion, not eager to see or talk to anyone, though he's being so obvious about it that it's almost comical. Subtlety's not his strong suit, especially when he's not happy.

Besides, if anyone's gonna start something with him, he's not gonna look like he's running scared. Hell no.

Comments

[eatyourdirt]

[Beatrice is flying over the checkerboard hills when she hears the extremely loud sound of gunfire. Normally, she'd probably just fly away (she's too small to go playing around with people who have guns) but today she's in a mood to peck out someone's eyeballs. So she swoops down, coming around behind Rocket's head and grabbing at his ear with her beak to get his attention. She's pretty sure she wouldn't be heard otherwise.]

Hey! Maybe pick up a hobby that doesn't make such an obnoxiously loud sound? Drums would be better than this! Or even clarinet!

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket's just not in tune enough with his surroundings to anticipate BIRD DEATH FROM ABOVE. He makes an unfortunately animal-esque pain noise and jerks his head a bit to dislodge her.]

The flark are you doing? [Oh, it's Beatrice. Little Miss Memory Loss herself.] And what's it to you, anyway? You gotta whole freakin' place to fly in.

[eatyourdirt]

I want to be flying here. [She flaps back a little ways, glaring at him.] And you're not helping.

[beatupgrass]

Well, I ain't here to convenience you. [YOU SURE DON'T CONVENIENCE HIM ANY. With your memory loss and your being a humie broad stuck as a bird. And God Beatrice, your everything is frustrating.]

[eatyourdirt]

[No your everything is frustrating.] No, you're just here to put all sorts of weird expectations on me cause you think you know me. Just like everyone here.

[beatupgrass]

I don't expect you to be anything except a pain in my ass, which you're doing great at, by the way. [He glowers at her. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT, MS. SASSY BIRD.]

[eatyourdirt]

Good. If you want me to stop, you can just go play with your loud toys somewhere else. Like underground.

[beatupgrass]

That's too bad, 'cause the closest thing to underground in this joint is the basement, which is currently infested with those shit-for-brains furballs that look like me. So you're outta luck, sweetheart.

[eatyourdirt]

Sounds like you'll fit right in, then. Perfect plan!

[beatupgrass]

[He swivels his gun on her, which would be threatening if she weren't the most INCONVENIENT TARGET EVER, and she probably knows it. Advantages to being a bluebird.] What'd you say???

[eatyourdirt]

[She flits back a little ways away, but she's moving around a lot, so definitely not a very convenient target.]

I think you heard me.

[beatupgrass]

[and then he took the shotgun off the wall and fired three warning shots

into her head

into the air where her head would be if she wasn't tiny and fast.] You little-

[eatyourdirt]

Hey! [Beatrice doesn't have a good way to attack back, but that doesn't stop her from diving in and whacking at his face with her wings. It's the best attack she has, and it's more annoying than anything else.] You don't just shoot at people!

[beatupgrass]

[it's pretty effective in that HE CANNOT SHOOT SOMETHING RIGHT IN HIS FACE, so all he can do is wildly swing around and try to beat her off with his free, flailing hand.] I do when they're pissing me off.

[eatyourdirt]

Not very effectively, apparently! [He definitely clips her a few times, but she keeps on him, since it's the best way to not get shot right now.]

[beatupgrass]

You ain't an easy target, featherbrain. [he swipes again, dropping his gun, so now the two of them look like a fucking episode of WOODLAND CREATURE FIGHTS. Somewhere Stan Pines is upset he's missing this.]

[eatyourdirt]

Maybe you just suck! [This fight is so ridiculous but Beatrice isn't going to be the one to back down.]

[beatupgrass]

You're the one who sucks, you little- [yeah, rocket isn't gonna give up until he manages to get his FUCKING HANDS AROUND HER, which isn't easy since he's short and she can fly higher than he can jump.]

[eatyourdirt]

[She flutters away and glares, hovering just out of reach.] I'm not the one jumping around like an idiot!

[beatupgrass]

[well, that cows him a bit. he scowls up at her and grabs his gun, if only just to secure it to his back.] Forget it. You ain't worth the energy, you feathery broad.

[HE'S TOTALLY FLOUNCING BECAUSE YOU'RE A CHEAT, NOT BECAUSE HE LOST. X(]

this could get ugly~

[deadlystar]

Someone is making a lot of annoying noise on the hills by blowing things up. When Gamora goes to investigate, she's not at all surprised that the annoying sound is being made by one who is somewhat annoying himself. Normally she just rolls her eyes when she's not happy with her fellow crew members, but today she finds her patience is especially thin, and it's not that thick to begin with.

"Rocket, what are you doing?"

moo ha ha

[beatupgrass]

Rocket fires off a few more shots, pointedly ignoring that complaining tone that's so typically Gamora. "Target practice. What's it look like I'm doing?"

The poor targets never stood a chance, especially since they were clearly not made for high-intensity laser rounds. "You need something?"

The answer's gonna be no, but look. He asked.

[deadlystar]

"It looks like you're wasting ammunition." That's what it looks like he's doing. He's shooting at unmoving targets for no reason at all when he knows perfectly well the gun works and he knows he can hit them.

As for needing something, she shakes her head. "No, I was looking around." She's still new enough that she hasn't seen everything there is to see here.

[beatupgrass]

"Which would be a problem if we didn't have a limitless magical freakin' closet that spits out ammo whenever I ask for it." It's impossible for him to keep the derisiveness out of his tone- more about the closets than Gamora, herself. He's learned to accept those things, but it doesn't mean he likes admitting that he uses them. He has a rep as a magic skeptic to protect.

"Well, in that case," he lowers his gun, and waves his free hand about, agitation apparent. "Here's the hills, over there's the forest, if you keep goin', you'll find the ocean, and that's all there is."

[deadlystar]

Even if there are magic closets... weird as it sounds, Gamora wouldn't presume they would always function that way. She hopes Rocket is at least stockpiling some of that in case they ever stop spitting out bullets.

"Getting tired of the scenery?" She's being sarcastic, naturally. "What about the other side of the mirrors? Have you been there?"

[beatupgrass]

"I don't want my worse half messin' around with my shit here," he scowls, letting the gun power down completely and begin to fold in on itself so it's more portable. "'Sides you go over there, you can't even leave the mansion. Plus you gotta deal with the Mirrors, and they're a rough crowd."

He eyes her up and down, and with no consideration for the fact that this is a sensitive subject that Gamora would probably be happier not thinking about, he adds, "Yours woulda probably never left Thanos, I bet."

[deadlystar]

Gamora does have to give Rocket credit for some things. He is smarter than most.

"That's what I presume." That her other-self behind the mirror not only remains loyal to Thanos, but is even more ruthless than Gamora cares to think about. Who knows just how dangerous that Gamora is.

"What about yours? Have you met him?"

[beatupgrass]

He snorts derisively. "You can't meet your own Mirror or I woulda shot mine on principle and they don't come back so easy as we do when we get offed here."

They can, presumably, but that's up to the Queen of Freakin' Hearts, and maybe his Mirror is worth something to her, but he doubts it. If he's the big genius, then his Mirror must be a simpleton. Or worse- just a flarkin' dumb animal.

[deadlystar]

"That's too bad. We could kill them and be done with the confusion." If they could actually meet their own mirrors, anyway. "I can kill yours, then, if it'll ease your worries." Gamora is curious about what Rocket's mirror would be like.

"But I don't recommend you try to kill mine." He'll probably end up dead.

[beatupgrass]

"If you want. I ain't gonna stop you." The rest of Wonderland might, because his Mirror is a precious cinnamon roll, but Rocket has never had any strong feelings on pastries, even if they are too pure or too good for this world.

Also the implication that he couldn't kill Gamora's Mirror rankles him in a way he'd almost managed to suppress. It doesn't matter that it's true- it smacks of her having no confidence in him.
"What? You think I ain't smart enough to figure somethin' out?"

[deadlystar]

If his mirror proves to be no threat at all, killing him would serve no purpose. Of course, she'll be pretty surprised to find out about that.

"I think you're smarter than anyone." And that's not an empty compliment. Gamora doesn't do those. "But if my mirror is still a killer for Thanos, I wouldn't recommend anyone try to fight her."

[beatupgrass]

He deflates a bit at the compliment, because he d'ast well knows that Gamora doesn't just offer platitudes because she can. Even as edgy as he is, he isn't going to misconstrue that to be more than what it is.

"Yeah, well... I cheat. You're good, Gammy, but I'm a crack shot from a distance."

[deadlystar]

She looks a little amused, with a slight smirk on her face.

"Presuming you would even see me coming."

He might be dead before he even realizes she's there. She's not a galaxy-class killer because she stomps around being obvious about it. Though sometimes that technique is appropriate, given certain situations.

[abelmedic]

Things are getting tense in the mansion. People are getting snitty and broody and Maxine is getting so, so tired of being locked in a super-powered high school with a pack of increasingly infuriating people.

She is also so lost in her irritation, coming back from the dining room with a coffee, that the sudden small something scuttling across her peripheral vision startles a sharp noise out of her. And several longer, angrier, and curse-strewn ones, when she scalds her hands.

"What the hell-" she hisses, still trying to shake hot coffee off of her stinging hand.

[beatupgrass]

Rocket stops short at the cursing, if only because it draws attention to his fiendishly good plan to avoid being seen, which would be underwhelming if he weren't normally a master of stealth and today he's half-assing it. That doesn't stop him from pretending he was doing his best.

He whirls. "Did I startle you, Doc?" Said in the tone of someone who doesn't really care. His sympathy is at an all time low today and it's normally not very noteworthy.

[abelmedic]

"Stuff coming up out of my low peripheral vision does that." She gives her hand one more shake, wincing. "Plus hugging the wall. Good job being a walking jumpscare."

[beatupgrass]

"I was going for subtle," Rocket cracks his knuckles in front of him, which should be physically impossible and also shouldn't sound weirdly metallic, but that's what custom joints do to you.

"This d'ast place just makes everyone so freakin' paranoid."

[abelmedic]

"Can't imagine how. We only have the assault and murder rate of Detroit." She gives him a look, as even annoyed as she is with the world right now, that was a very curious sound. But 'what's up with your tiny hands' doesn't quite fit into this conversation. Or most conversations.

[beatupgrass]

He doesn't know what a Detroit is, but it sounds like his kinda place. "But not the atmosphere to go with that kinda place. Is it too much to ask for a place to be a little bit slummy if it's gonna treat you like shit. I can handle that."

And as of now, the Shattered Sight spell has dredged up his feelings on Wonderland, and boy does he have many.

[abelmedic]

Maxine opens her mouth to reply, then pauses, reconsidering the words. He . . . does have a point.

"It would put you on your guard better, wouldn't it," she says, thoughtfully. "None of this 'magical land of plenty' act up until there's a demon trying to stab you."

[beatupgrass]

"Exactly. Looks cute, then it tries to kill you. There's somethin' not right about that."

Said the adorable

talking raccoon

with an unfeasibly large gun strapped to his back.

[abelmedic]

"Maybe that's the thing, though. Like a pitcher plant, something that just seems inviting."

Unlike a raccoon, at least in her estimation. Then again, growing up on a farm skewed some of your ideas of 'cute' when it came to scavengers who were masters of getting into places they shouldn't be.

She sips her coffee, frowning at him.

"Though that's pretty paranoid too, huh."

[beatupgrass]

"Healthy paranoia never hurt anyone." And his is ramped up to the point where he can't get comfortable. He's a tiny little coiled ball of tension, who keeps glancing over his shoulder. "'Course it'd be one thing if we were actually choosin' to come here, but no. It kidnaps you, comforts you, and then slams you against the wall. Repeatedly."

[abelmedic]

"And it's not exactly like you can go live in the woods, either." She pulls a face, trying to ignore the creeping feeling over her shoulder. Glancing back, not quite managing to make it look subtle.

Nothing's there. Of course nothing's there. Why the heck is she letting a racoon rile her up.

[beatupgrass]

"You'd actually wanna live in the woods?" In a true insult to the species he doesn't claim, Rocket is not a fan of forests. Or trees that don't talk back like Groot does. He misses Groot. No one here understands him like he does, and if he weren't such a d'asted idiot, maybe he'd get his barky butt over here.

He crosses his little arms over his chest, noting that she's also looking behind her. What's she looking for? What's she got to be paranoid about? Besides zombies. Big whoop. They only happen when Wonderland spits them out in a snit, but it's people Rocket can't trust.

And they're everywhere.

[abelmedic]

"Well there has to be somewhere that's better than here," she replies peevishly. Like he has any better ideas? "The point is, it wouldn't be here."

[beatupgrass]

"The planet's gotta be bigger than this," he concedes, albeit reluctantly. "I dunno what they're doin' to lock us in, but one day it'll probably come down."

And then what? They find their way to wherever they keep their ships off this rock? Assuming there even are any. No, he doesn't have any better ideas, but he tries to pretend like he does, because it makes him feel better.