14452/Rocket Run: Mysterious Mutants

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Rocket Run: Mysterious Mutants
Date of Scene: 21 June 2022
Location: Bushwick (Mutant Town), Brooklyn
Synopsis: Rocket walks into Sam's bar to solve a mystery. Expecting trouble, he finds solutions instead.
Cast of Characters: Rocket Raccoon, Cannonball

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    Frickin' planet. Just when you think you've got something, it kicks your legs out from under you. It's been almost three weeks now that Rocket has been down on earth, the backwater mudball that seems to somehow house an almost impossible number of heroes and odd technology, but so far all he's gotten was a piece of half broken stealth tech and some very confusing and conflicting readings. And, for some reason, strange looks every time a human spotted him at night. Always with the shrieking and the running away... sheesh.

    But Rocket is nothing if not stubborn. That means if he gets two dozen anomalous readings in a square mile, he goes to check them out. All of them. No matter how long it takes.

    Not like the war with the Brood is getting any worse while he's on the other side of the sector scavenging for tech and heroes.

    One of these readings, much to the mercenary bounty hunter's surprise is coming from what looks like a bar. So he stands outside for a moment in the shadows, looking up at the sign, rubbing the back of his right ear. "Club Evolution? What the frickin' blazz are they wanna evolve further for?" And just to be on the safe side, he checks his scanner again. Yup. Odd readings, well off from the base human template. Dozens of 'em. With a shrug, he sets out, crossing the road and heading for the door as if he has every right to be there.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie is sitting at the bar, and the place is at a decent level tonight. Some folks working and some of the customers all obvious mutants, this one with wings, that one is green, stuff like that. There is a live band tonight, a couple of normal looking folks, and a drummer with three arms, the lead singer being covered in pink scales. Sam seems to be watching the band nodding a bit as he listens to the music. He has a glass of ice tea sitting at the bar behind him.

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "... and if I weren't in a frickin' hurry, you'd be regrettin' that a lot more!"

    There is, almost inevitably, a slight commotion and a bit of a scuffle at the door as security objects to Rocket bringing a small arsenal into the club. In his defense, they will fully recover. But it leaves the angry ball of fur in an angrier mood than usual, exacerbated by the fact that he's sober and walking into a bar. This unnatural state of being must be addressed soon. Throwing the doors open in front of him, he strides in as if he's going into his usual dive on Knowhere, and blinks for a moment as he takes in the myriad size and shapes of the clientele and staff. "What the frick..."

    And then, it hits him. Evolution. Deviation from human standard template. Terran. Sighing, Rocket rolls his eyes and stalks to the bar, projecting a small field of pure anger around him that seems to give him ample personal space despite his small stature. "Club Evolution. Ha ha, real funny. Frickin' planet with it's frickin' puns and frickin' jokers everywhere."

    In fact, he stops for a moment to shout out to the club at large. "You're all worse'n Quill!"

    After which blistering statement, he climbs up onto a bar stool and slaps the top with his palm. "'Ey, big an' ugly, gimme something strong. An' then, when you think you've got it, get me something stronger, a'ight?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will look over to the small .. mammal. He gets a message in his ear, from the front door. He frowns and looks over the racoon a bit more. It takes him a minute cause there are a lot of odd looking mutants, but Rocket looks familiar "Your....Sprocket Racoon right?" He will ask, and says "You know it is not nice to roust the security."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    Whatever was in the drink the bartender had managed to get Rocket seemed to have calmed the rage somewhat, so that when he turns to look at Sam, it's with a look of mere belligerence rather than outright murderous intent. Always a promising sign. "Frickin' a right. Best bounty hunter in the whole krutaxing galaxy, genius, strategist and frickin' thirsty." The rest of the drink goes down in one, and the glass put down on the bar as loud as he dares without actually breaking it.

    "Eh, they'll live. 's what security is for, bit of exercise before getting to the real business. What's it to ya?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie hmms and says "Know a few Jammers who might argue the best with you, but they don't do the bounty hunter thing very often." He says "Name's Sam, I run this place, and would appreciate it if you don't cause any more trouble in here, and if you feel you got to cause trouble, do me the respect of taking it out back before ya do it."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    There's something... odd about the look Rocket gives Sam. Ignore the fact it's coming from a creature a few feet high that has to perch on the bar stool to be able to see his own drink, with an expressive furred face that seems predisposed towards mischief. Without looking, Rocket nudges his glass a bit further away, as if he's worried about impending breakage, and then slowly reaches into his pockets for that scanner.

    The thing, a combination of science fiction gadgetry and a more conventional data screen, appears to be cobbled together from spare parts. Many of these parts still have ownership stencils on them from halfway around the sector, none of which are likely to be Rocket's. And whatever he's seeing on the readout seems to confirm something.

    "Didn't you used to hang around with some kinda rock star? Ain't human, that's for sure." In fact, Rocket's scanner is bleeping at him, and he raises an eyebrow before putting the thing away. "A'ight. If'n someone causes me trouble an' I wanna show 'em why that's a bad idea, I'll do it out back. 'cause you asked."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Yea, I ran with Lila, and her band Cats Laughing some a couple years back." He tells the other. And no, I'm a mutant like about 50% of the crowd in here, human plus if you will for those from not around here. It is part of the reason your getting less odd looks here than you would at most places, people figure your just another mutant here. So, what brings you here?" He will ask as he moves to have a seat a bit closer so he can easily talk to Rocket.

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "I frickin' knew it!" And that earns another slap of his palm on the bar, motioning to the bar tender for two more of the same. He probably has no intention of paying, but hey, he's being generous with the money he doesn't have and isn't planning on spending. "Good gigs. Always good fer some business. Nabbed at least two dozen bounties outta those crowds."

    As for the mutant thing, Rocket gives the man another appraising look. "'s one way of lookin' at it, human plus. A'ight, we'll go with that fer now. If'n you're wondering, I ain't exactly shy, 'cause I get looks everywhere I go. Big galaxy, an' I'm a frickin' oddity everywhere." There's hate again for a moment, but then the booze arrives and all is well again.

    A creature his size shouldn't be able to lift a human sized glass so casually, but yet, there it is. A creature his size probably shouldn't drink that much either, but... well... there it is. "This planet's outta the way, an' it's got a habit of surprising me. An' there's a war goin' on that's not going too great, so I figured, maybe this planet's gonna surprise me again, see?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie 's brow raises a bit and nods his head, he sips his own tea, he is on the job after all. "Yea we have a few run ins now and again but do seem off the main intergalactic highway at least." He admits. His brow raises a bit and says "So, who is causing problems for who these days?"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "Hah! You'd hafta fly five parsecs to find the edge of the backwater surrounding the outskirts of the bypass to the nearest frickin' intergalactic highway. You ain't out of the way, you ain't nowhere, 's why this place is still here." Rocket gulps down his drink and gives Sam another look. "'s cause nobody can find ya. Usually. Most times. Couple of troublemakers run here, sometimes I come collect."

    The alcohol is gone far too soon, but this time the glass isn't slammed down, it's held in both hands. Rocket looks down into the empty glass, as if he's sad that the booze is all gone. He's sad about something though, that's for sure, although you wouldn't tell just by listening to him.

    "Brood. An' if'n you never heard of the Brood, sheesh... you're lucky. Most cultures just call 'em demons an' be done with it, but that ain't what they are. Oho, no, they're worse 'n that." Now there's a grin. "They're body snatchers, see? Got a hive mind, an' when they get ya, they infect ya, an' you become one of 'em. But first they make ya hurt, 'cause they like doin' that. They got weapons that don't kill ya, just hurt ya so bad you wish you were dead. An' then they make you one o' them. If'n you're really lucky, they just kill ya."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie 's frown deepens, and says "And if they think your of particular use, they save you for a queen egg." He finishes for the racoon. "Never faced them myself, but got friends who have and lived to tell the day. "He hmms a bit and says "Where they raising hell at? I might know some folks who can help."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    That got Rocket's attention in double quick time. The maudlin look disappears, and the glass is only saved by the bartender's quick reflexes as it goes sailing behidn the bar. Not intentionally, at least, probably not... but this is the first time Rocket has run into someone who knew the Brood on this mudball. "I knew I shoulda gone to a bar sooner!"

    Problem solved in bar... eat that, Quill! "They broke through Shi'ar space, overran the Raken system. Raken 4's gone... an' I mean gone, Shi'ar glassed it before they let the Brood have it, but it didn't buy 'em much time. This ain't just another border raid, this is a frickin' invasion, an' they ain't playin' by the normal book." That was the strange thing, the odd thing, the thing he'd tried to explain to Star Lord. The Brood aren't playing by the normal rules.

    "They musta got a new frickin' queen or sumthin', 'cause they're rolling all over the Shi'ar, an' those frickin' idiots are too stupid to call fer help. Squadron I flew with during the invasion got wiped out. Wiped out to the last pilot. An' I don't frickin' like Shi'ar, but those guys were frickin' heroes, an' now they're gone."

    For the first time since walking inot the club, there seems to be real emotion in Rocker's voice. It's anger, of course, but true anger, not the usual posturing rage. "An' I'm gonna make the frickin' Brood hurt fer that."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods a bit and says "I will talk to some friends, the Shi'ar are friends of my friends might be able to get ya some help. You got a way to contact you? And the Guard been sent out to deal with them, or they worried about them getting captured and turned?"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "As I said, they're rolling right over 'em." Which means, most likely, that the Guard has either been pushed back or been decimated. Not a good sign.

    Frantically patting his pockets, Rocket seems to be looking for something. "Frick, where'd I leave the... oh yeah." When he finds it, it turns out to be a calling card, for 'Rocket and Groot LLC, bounty hunters' on which '+ Guardians of the Galaxy' has been scrawled in almost the same color of ink. It has a frequency and a galactimail address. "I'm gonna be around this planet fer another week or so, but then I gotta go. Star Lord's gonna wonder I've gone, an' we're still under contract by the Shi'ar to save their bacon, so..."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods his head a bit and says "Will see what Ah can do, can't make any promises, but Ah will make sure the people who need to know will know." He nods a bit to this and says "We maybe able to get our own transportation."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
    "Save me tryin' to scrounge up a new transport, 'cause ships that can get through that junkyard you've got in orbit ain't easy to find. Frickin' thought it was a defensive thing first time I saw it." And, of course, later on it became a good source for spare parts. So much junk, so much still useful.

    For a moment, Rocket looks around for his glass, shrugs when he remembers it's gone, and then drops off the bar stool. "An' ehmm... if'n you don't mind, I'm gonna let myself out the back door. I mean, no need ta bother yer security twice, right?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods his head a bit to this and pockets the card, and pulls out his phone to send a text "You have a good one and stay breathing." He tells the warrior, something about Sam speaks maybe he has seen a few fights too.