14035/A planet called Dirt

A planet called Dirt
Date of Scene:	23 December 2021
Location:	Long Island City, Queens
Synopsis:	When crash landing on top of him only seems to annoy the Juggernaut, Rocket suspects he may have found some unexpected talent for the war against the Brood...
Cast of Characters:	Rocket Raccoon, Juggernaut

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Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    There are, by most estimates, roughly sixteen exobytes of data that are required reading for the licensing of a starship pilot under Shi'ar law. Five of those go over, in excrutiating detail, the protocol for approaching the homeworld of a species that has yet to reach Class Three interstellar status. Thousands upon thousands of rules... and each and every one of them is being broken by the craft that has just started to become a blip on some of the most sophisticated sensor equipment available on a particular planet that is the third from its system's sun, where it will soon begin to scare the living daylights out of the entire defense apparatus that has access to this data.

    Luckily for the craft that is approaching at high speed and an angle of descent that shoots past 'aggressive' and goes straight for 'offensive', that particular defense apparatus is mostly engaged elsewhere on the planet.

    Consider then this craft... it is an odd mishmash of almost new hull plating and hastily repaired patches. Its name, if such it in fact is, has been painted in spray paint along the hull, and it's clear that this particular decorator ran out of paint several times in the process, not quite able to match colors... or styles.

    It also seems to be shedding significant bits which look somewhat important on its way down. Its pilot, in fact...

    "Ah screw this!" Rocket shouts at nobody in particular as an attempt at adjusting the retro-booster ends up with the thruster control breaking off in his hand. With a sigh, the handle is thrown over his shoulder, where it joins a growing junk of bits and pieces that seem to be, decidedly, non functional. "Who needs frickin' retros anyway? Stupid frickin' planet with its stupid frickin' orbital junkyard..."

    Upon which, with a fairly loud series of bangs, the engines die entirely, and the craft goes ballistic.

    Literally.

    "Right. Ground. That bit looks... eh, it'll do." And so, out of options and out of damns to give, Rocket steers the Rack'n'Ruin to a spot he picks mostly at random somewhere on Long Island. On the grounds that if you're going to crash land somewhere, might as well do it somewhere fairly open and not too close to a major city.

    He still has the twenty dollar parking fine to pay from his last visit.

    Suffice to say, the descending shuttle will soon begin to look like a falling star.

    Meanwhile, at ground level...

Juggernaut has posed:
    Go here..something..something..shipyard..something something. Stolen equipment..something..whatever..something. Made us angry..whatever..something.

Destroy it all. Now -that's- something.

Indeed, when the beeper given to him by The Light goes off, and a deposit hits his account, presuming his schedule is clear, The Juggernaut doesn't ask too many questions nor does he sweat the details. If it fits his particular modus operandi..away he goes. He's reliable like that. It's why he can command such high fees. Being one of the most powerful beings on Earth helps inflate his prices as well.

Considering his power, one might say this little contract is slightly overkill. It's merely some group or agency that has run afoul of the interests of someone or someones, breached this agreement or that, and stepped into whatever tech-tech experimental weapon development of the week that has attracted the wrong eyes. Calling upon The Juggernaut to resolve matters is rather like using a bulldozer to overturn an ant hill. But it does leave quite the impression doesn't it. Craters and canyon like fissures litter the expanse of the industrial yard that was being used by this group. An entire warehouse has been overturned, its very foundation uprooted beneath it like a carpet being pulled out from under foot. Energy discharges from the weapons of security guards blast with futility into a billowing cloud of debris, fire and smoke while those with stronger survival instincts scatter, running for trucks and cars in order to escape the moving seismic event that has descended upon this work site.

The Juggernaut emerges into view from the rolling debris cloud swirling through the area and following in his wake. The energy weapons splash against torso with the effectivenss of water guns and the men begin withdrawing further as the shadow fo the large cargo ship the behemoth is carrying begins to fall over them. "Why you runnin' now, fellas! I -warned- you! Can't stop me with guns... can't stop me with the Hulk! Can't stop me with any---- Huh?"

Juggernaut stops, he turns swiveling at the waist and leaning back to look upwards as a strange glow begins falling over him and the immediate area around him. A descending fireball. ".....What th'hell?"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    One of the drawbacks of approaching a planet that has yet to invent a simple energy beacon that can reliably reach the next solar system, is that you don't notice things are going on near the surface until you are, metaphorically speaking, right on top of them. And, in this case, literally speaking as well, because that shuttle is coming in like the opening shot of World War Three.

    In the cockpit, Rocket has just enough time to notice that he's going to hit something that looks relatively solid to utter a heartfelt

    "Ah, frick..."

    What follows is a fireball. As in, an actual ball of fire, as the reinforced military hull of the Shi'ar shuttle slams into the planet, where due to the near infinite friction coefficient of the air-ground interface, it sheds velocity very rapidly... translating all that kinetic energy into heat and light. Probably some radiation in there as well, but let's be honest, if you were close enough for that to matter, you were too close for it be a long term problem.

    The mushroom cloud can actually be seen in New Jersey.

    What is left of the area the gang had staked out is a deep crater, a pattering of fairly small debris, and a shuttle that's starting to rapidly cool down.

    Almost as an afterthought, the landing struts deploy and push the Rack'n'Ruin upright and relatively level, before one last panel parts way with the fuselage in the archetypical manner best represented by the onomatopoeia 'CLANG' 'GLOINGGLOINGGLOINGGLOING'

    Presently, the boarding ramp opens and Rocket steps out of the shuttle, dusting himself off and looking around. "Eh, at least I didn't hit anything important... Sheesh, what a dump. Who'd live on a planet like this?"

Juggernaut has posed:
Well....his employer did want that agency taken out and the area basically salted. So they got that. Boy..did they get that. THey -really- got it.

Distant alarms are ringing and resounding from the collateral damage that plagues the area beyond the actual impact zone and no doubt prying eyes will be enroute soon to investigate the destruction..but for now all seems still. What was left of that security detail of hired thugs and any who did not escape Juggernauts initial rampage have been..er..dealt with..to say the least. Another happy landing.

That is unti there is a groaning sound of metal being distressed as the entire shuttle starts tilting towards one side and then back again as the very earth beneath it buckles and heaves. Cracks spread, rapidly spider webbing outwards in all directions and the earth continues groaning in rapidly increasing intensity before, finally, Juggernauts monstrous fist punches upward and out of the center of the crater and then the rest of the earth gives way like some gigantic pie crust being blown open by some firecracker lit from within. Chunks of the earth and building remains go scattering skywards and then back down again as the giant brute fully emerges and staggers out - continuing to rock and sunder the earth this way and that from his crushing steps. He is unscathed..but clearly disorientated as he lifts a meaty hand up to rest against his domed helmet.

"What th'hell was that. What hit me..!?" He looks around, noting the scorched earth and then he freezes, turning now and seeing the landed craft.

"A freakin'SPACESHIP!?" Shock soon turns to the boorish anger he's well known for and he starts stalking forward, moving right for the landing struts, hands twitching and creaking, muscle starting to bulk up and stress his armor as it presses visibly against it. "Nobody lands a spaceship on The Juggernaut!"

At least his priorities remain together.

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "Ey, it was here or in that village over there..." Rocket clarifies, from the rim of the crater, pointing over his shoulder to the distant lights of New York City. "An' they don't like me there for some reason, so this place looked as good as any."

    It should be noted that the hand not indicating over his shoulder is easily hefting something looking like a rifle. Kind of. For some reason the word 'blaster' seems more appropriate. And it is, decidedly, alien looking. Home built, almost. And wielded by an actual alien who is either very tall and very far away, or pretty close and on the half-pint size.

    "B'sides, missed ya by at least a wing span, or y'wouldn't be here complainin' 'bout it, a'right?"

    Probably... Rocket suspects even Gigas would have felt that impact, and he doesn't actually know anyone more durable than that big lug. Hmmm. "But if I did, water under the bridge, am I right? Guy like you, don't seem like a little thing like a shuttle crash would get ya down."

Juggernaut has posed:
This is the second time in a short space of time that something has stopped The Juggernaut. He really needs to reconsider that tagline. Because being addressed by Rocket, upon noticing him, is enough to give the giant pause and to look over the visitor for what could be considered an uncomfortably long period of time. He finally just sighs and ceases his rampaging for a moment to rest his massive hands onto his hips and to shake his head. "Man..I wish I could get drunk because that'd explain a lot right now.."

He lifts one hand up to point a tree branch girthed finger at Rocket while slowly reclaiming his own wits bit by bit, "So you aint with the Avengers or something then? You some sorta mutant? With the X-men? Charley's idiot kids are always buildin' crazy things are trying some sorta stunt. And fer the record, if you hadda hit me dead on..you'd be the one worse off.. So what are you and who're you with? I need to know who to send my bill to."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "Yeah yeah, go cry me a river." Which is, perhaps, wisely muttered to himself as Rocket descends from the crater rim, leaning the blaster on his shoulder as he picks his way through the rubble... and eventually just not bothering with it, flying the rest of the way via jetpack to stand, possibly unwisely, closer to the very embodiment of physical power. "Avengers? What kind of two bit no-hoper outfit calls itself the Avengers? What'd they do? Shout loudly at someone after they smashed up the planet or sumthin'?"

    At which point, the raccoon-looking thing motions around. "I mean... how'd you even tell? But me, I'm with the Guardians of the Galaxy, an' believe me there's a lot of galaxy out there to be guarded. Reasonable rates." Because a unit is a unit. But Rocket is also beginning to get a shrewd impression of the absolute unit he's talking to.

    There's a possibility he would have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't just heard someone refer to him as a 'mutant'.

    The change is immediate. Those eyes burn with hatred, his ears seem to fold back, and he takes a step backwards as he brandishes the blaster, again probably unwisely, at the Juggernaut. "Did you just call me a freak?!"

    Hah. Look at him. Puny raccoon with his puny blaster... which appears to unfold.. and unfold... and unfold further, until even this stalwart specimen has to use /both/ hands to keep it on target. "Nobody. Nobody! Calls me... a FREAK!"

Juggernaut has posed:
The helmet does a good job of concealing Juggernauts full expression. As Rocket just sort of begins to lose it..and then that coupled with his previous words..and then the sight of that gun just unfolding and unfolding.. Juggernaut begins grinning bigger and bigger but it's more of a flabbergasted grin then anything else. A sort of 'What the hell!?' look to his mouth and eyes that could teeter at any moment to confused bellowing laughter. THis could go wildly wrong any second now.

"Right.." the brute manages to rumble, "..So..I aint dumb, contrary to what some fools like to assume.. You're an alien. Right. So..you aint from here so...just for the record.. -Mutant- here on Earth... Well..everybody don't mean it to say 'freak' when they say it.. although some people might. But -I- didn't.. And if you're gonna get mad at me..get mad at me fer something I actually did. Not that I don't call folk freaks when I want to."

He slowly leans forward, lifting one of his swamp tree girthed arms up and bringing it forward and pushing in with that pointing finger to try and poke for what passes for the barrel of the gun as if making like he's trying to plug like some sort of bizarre cartoonish gesture.

"So put that away. You're not from around 'ere so you probably don't know who I am but this little pea shooter aint gonna do nothing to me but make me mad. So let's start over. You said somethin' about reasonable rates?"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    It's uncanny. When that tree branch sized finger plugs the barrel of the blaster, it seems to grow just a little bit larger, and sprouts a few smaller looking barrels from the side on swivels. Clearly this creature has never hard of the term 'overkill'... or possibly Rocket has heard of it, and decided to embrace the philosophy. But even in his worst red mist moments, there's always that analytical part of his mind that's reading the situation, and filing away what's going on even if only to be able to present some kind of hastily written note to the rest of his brain before taking cover. Thus it is, while Rocket is breathing heavily as if psyching himself up for the fight of a lifetime, that he glares up at the Juggernaut...

    ... and nods. "'s right. Name's Rocket, from Rocket and Groot LLC. Ask anyone, I don't screw nobody over 'less I'm bein' paid to do it." The anger abates. The blaster abates. The debate ensues.

    "I mean, currently working a gig with the Guardians of the Galaxy. Got a humie on the team, seems to think there's people on this dump of a planet that can help us out, 'cause we're fighting a war."

    Shrewd look.

    "War pays extra."

Juggernaut has posed:
"NIce gun." comments Juggernaut, noting the extrta barrels as they come out without much by way of concern but some degree of fascinatoin. How many gun barrels does one need? What would happen if Rocket -did- fire it? Questions that must be answered but at a later time.

"The names Juggernaut and you aint gonna find nobody stronger or tougher. Not Hulk, not Thor, nobody. So don't let 'em convince you otherwise. Aint nothing can stop me. That also means I aint cheap. You want the strongest and biggest muscle you can get, you gotta pay for it."

Looks like the mans all business - occasional temper tantrums aside.

"Yes. War's extra but so is me goin' off world and to other dimensions. Been trapped on asteroids and stuck in places like Oblivion too many damn times to not demand pay for that sorta thing. Course last time I got trapped on another world I conquered it but nevermind all that."

He pauses, flickering his eyes towards the horizon briefly. THat was a -big- explosion so theres' only a matter of time before someone shows. Emergency crews. Capes. Someone. Things still seem clear though so he asks, "What's this war about? With who? If getting me involved counts as a war crime, that's extra as well."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "Nah, strictly this dimension only, no extradimensional or extra-whatever needed. Don't even need to time travel, but I get ya. Last time someone stiffed me a gig 'cause they sent me to find a Brood queen, turns out they were trying to feed me to Rataxian cave spiders." Oof. That sounds nasty. But, the creature is still here, so, on evidence, that probably means someone is regretting that decision right now. Or has at least, at some point the past, has had cause to intensely regret a few life choices, even if very briefly. "And there was the one time with the Ronan the Accuser thing and that weird stone..."

    Hmm. Trying to recruit here. So, Rocket goes another tack entirely.

    "Here's the thing. Been working already with a guy that calls himself probably the strongest being in the galaxy. Probably, inspires confidence, don't it? Anyway, guy's strong enough to punch a moon out of its orbit, but the thing we're fighting still managed to slow him down, so... I get it if it's not for you. Could get dangerous. Not everyone likes danger, I get it."

    But that last remark actually gets Rocket to smile. "'ey, if you can invent a new war crime I haven't already committed, I'll pay ya a bonus, just for the novelty of it."

Juggernaut has posed:
Is Juggernaut -that- easy too read? Because Rocket just went through a few chapters right there. Chapter One through - several - Juggernaut's Ego.

"He aint nothing to me! I told you. I CAN'T be stopped! I don't got this name just cause it sounds scary. I -am- power!" He jabs a thumb into his monstrous chest as he speaks, his adrenaline surging with visible results to his physique and an oppressive presence that seems to boil up within. A slight hint of crimson energies in his visible eyes as his teeth grind and his expression darkens. "I aint scared of nobody and nothing! Send your guy and I'll prove my point!"

But Juggernaut, ego aside, is also at least somewhat shrewd from time to time and he has enough sense to start to dial it back some lest he agree to something he's neither the time or full interst to commit to.. pay or no pay.

"I'm startin' to think maybe you can't actually afford me, Rocket. Besides, I aint taking pay in nothin' stupid like Galactic Credits or Sticks or whatever. I live -here-. So if I can't use the money it aint no good to me. Who're these folk your fighting? Spdier Rat Brood something?"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    And now Rocket is impressed. It's not often he sounds someone out and finds that there's not only more under the surface than meets the eye, but what is hidden behind the facade turns out to be a pretty shrewd mind. You can just tell from his body language that he's through trying to wheel some kind of deal, and starts to shoot straight.

    It also helps that he just saw the very Juggernaut shaped dent in the underside of the main fuselage. Meaning he /did/ just hit this guy with a ballistic military shuttle, and he was still around to complain about it. Sometimes you just crash land on absolute raw talent.

    "Eh, close. They call themselves the Brood, a species of intergalactic parasites that take over bodies and make them part of the hive mind. Makes 'em scary, 'cause it don't matter to them if they lost a few million drones as long as they end up killing or infecting that same number, y'know? It's a war of attrition you can't win, an' it just so happens that a war of attrition is the only kinda war the Shi'ar Imperium knows how to fight. They'd be footing the bill, by the way. You'd be on our payroll, but they're the ones with the Galactic U... nits..."

    Wait, this guy wants paying in local currency? Sheesh! How the frick was he s'posed to get his hands on that? "Sure you won't take Units? They're accepted anywhere, could buy yourself anything you'd like on the way back. Plus, you might like it out there, y'know? Guy with your talents, you could go places, name your own price."

    Another glance around. "Better than staying on this dump. Imagine what woulda happened if I'd stayed on Halfworld. Wouldn't be swimming in units right now, I tell ya." So, okay, /technically/ he's not swimming in units now, but that's got nothing to do with not staying on Halfworld, so he's technically not lying...

Juggernaut has posed:
Once more, THe Juggernaut is given pause on something. The menace he was projecting diminishes abit more and he seems to seriously weigh some of those words. What exactly -is- keeping him here, on Earth? He can survive anywhere, even other realities. He -has- conquered a world before, once when stranded there by Thor. It's not like he has solid stable roots here on Earth as it is. He's usually moving around from place to place if not affiliated with anyone that has an actual headquarters and even then he might be prone to do his own things.

"Hn.." he rumbles, finally emitting a non committal grunt and settling on, "..I got business here that aint complete yet. Family." in a half hearted half truth. It's hard to let go of things one is comfortable doing even if it's not really getting you anywhere.

"Might be a dump to you but its still my home. Maybe you need to stop crashin' in this pig sty and try visitng some other part of this rock? You might like it more..."

He then waves it all off, the tough guy energy returning as he rumbles, "I don't lose wars of attrition. I don't get tired and I don't get hurt..but that still sounds like a mess. Tell you what - I'll think about it. You find something to big and strong for your current guy on the payroll to hit or a place he can't go and then make me an offer and I'll show you what I can do. I guess aint nothing wrong with building an account somewhere else..."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "My kinda guy!" Rocket grins and digs into a pocket, tossing a small device over to the Juggernaut. "Let's say we consider you on retainer, an' if we find a place that's worthy of your attention, we'll give you a call on that so we can arrange a pick up. Call it standard rate plus fifteen percent for the first gig, just as a tester, an' we can discuss a personal rate after that. How 'bout it?"

    Perhaps lost in the moment, but with a great sense of tradition, Rocket holds out his ... well, paw really, gotta call it what it is. Seems even in outer space, a deal between a certain kind of professionals isn't considered done until hands have been shaken.

    "An' no offense, but I kinda don't see the appeal in a planet that's literally called dirt, orbiting a sun called Sun, and has a moon called Moon. Where's the style?"

Juggernaut has posed:
"Just so you know..I aint actually got a great reputation around 'ere so if you got any other locals who consider themselves 'good guys' who want to 'help' ...they might 'ave a problem if I ever show up. IF they don't start nothin', won't be nothin'.." Which is...a lie. Juggernaut is quite, quite good at starting something. This addition is done casually as well as if he forgot that whole 'Oh by the way, I'm a super criminal here' until now. But somehow, he doubts Rocket will care. Upon catching the device, he eyes it and deftly manuevers it with his massive fingers before nodding and putting it away somewhere in a compartment around his belt.

"So yeah. If that aint a problem..alright sure. I'll bite..." He then reaches his hand out to allow ROcket to grasp it as best he can for a shake.

"And look..I didn't come up with th'names I just live 'ere. There's probably all sorts of names for things. The borin' basic ones just stuck. Probably easier to remember."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "Eh, makes sense. But now I gotta scram, 'cause last time I was here... well..." That hand is shaken. Rocket may be small but he's also... well, small. Just seems to have an attitude of someone four times his size, so when he shakes that hand, it's as if he doesn't actually think it's impossible and therefore it isn't. "... b'sides, the Shi'ar are gonna notice I stole one of their shuttles eventually, but what was I gonna do? Couldn't pull the Milano out of the front line, it's the only thing keep the Raken system in Shi'ar hands. They should thank me for my ingenuity, y'know?" So, in trouble with both local law /and/ the military of some kind of large space empire. Somehow it's unlikely Rocket is going to care about someone's criminal past. He's just not that much of a hypocrite.

    "Anyway, hope I didn't wreck any of your stuff. Fastest recruitment drive I've ever done though, so... need me to create a bit of a distraction for ya?"

Juggernaut has posed:
There's a distant corner of Juggernaut's mind that begins wondering if he's about to wake up from a dream when he truly begins dwelling on the fact that he was possibly recruited for a galactic war by an alien raccoon that has also offered to make a distraction for him. He has a brief moment of self reflection and then shakes his head.

"Naw. I'll be fine. They'll stop you before they can try anything with me after all.." he turns and starts walking away, rumbling steps taking him further towards the harbor and an escape route that will take him underwater and so not easily found or tracked.

"See y'around Rocket. Don't go losing that war..."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "We haven't lost it yet. Keep that comm unit close by, we'll be in touch Juggernaut!"

    It's a matter of moments for Rocket to scramble back into the shuttle, retract the ramp, kick the everliving crap out of the engine manifolds and swear at the power plant long enough for it to restart. Engines cough to life, the shuttle lifts... engines fail, the shuttle drops back into the crater with a CLANG...

    And then, finally, the engines roar to life and the shuttle takes off, scraping a trench as it uses the curvature of the crater as a launch ramp.

    A final few bits fall back to earth, and then the shuttle is gone, breaking atmosphere and starting the spool up back towards Raken.

    "Quill... have I got a recruit for you..."