7430/The Hare and the Raccoon

The Hare and the Raccoon
Date of Scene:	07 May 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	7665, Rocket Raccoon

---

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    The Galaxy is full of arms markets, black or otherwise. This place was different though, if only because it wasn't constantly flooded with surplus crap that should have been scrapped. No "Tundo-43" was, well if we're honest sort of ritzy as far as these things go. There was actual security who did a great job of staying out of your way, docking fees were kinda high but no regulations on imports or exports so net win? Anywho the station itself had been a yacht shipyard a few hundred years back, these days though no it was where you got arms to stock your yacht.

    You could get a rocket launcher anyway, but if you wanted a -Nice- one you went to Tundo. Good gear at fair prices, obscure military kit and a bar who served some of the best grub for a fair stretch. Not a bad place to spend a few days if you've got the coin, and people who need to get shot.

    Its what passes for a vacation in Blackjack's world certainly, and well goodness where the hell else was he going to find old PRDO blasters that weren't beat to hell or overpriced as hell? See that PRDO battle rifle slung over his shoulder, still in it's factory electro-plated mirror like finish? A gentleman's choice, an expensive one even but hey they do match the blasters on his belt.

    Our favorite hare indeed has picked up quite the find, though it's the datapad in his hands which occupies the majority of his attention. Thumbing through menus in a rush as he searches the directory for the bar, pausing only to peer over the top of that pad as he all but walks into something. A cursory glance indeed proves worthwhile, as he finds himself standing directly in front of the joint. "Well, looks like the odds are in my favor."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
It's a good long jaunt out of the way to get here, but Rocket had nothing better going on and there was the occational bounty posted for those who had the appropriate temperment for such work in a place that catered nearly exclusively to cheapskates and scum. Both adjectives fit Rocket plenty well enough, so here he was, sans crew, to pick up either work or trouble and possibly a spot of both.

Even without Groot by his side the tiny bounty hunter cut an impressive image for his size with all the weaponry one would need to overthrow just about any regime in the known Galaxy. "So I was sittin' on the edge of my seat and this little idiot comes crawlin' up between my legs like some kind of jungle rodent while I'm six or seven dozen fighters deep into a darin' escape." He is, just now, sitting on the edge of his seat in the self same bar where Blackjack's luck has brought him, recounting a story to a group of mostly bored and unilaterally drunk listeners.

"So what I done was, I hit the afterburns, whipped that puppy around and used the burn off from the burnin' left engine to melt the glass on a dozen or so fighters..." Draining whatever amounts to a drink from a dirty glass, "Hey, can I get a refill over here?"

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    Booze arrives sure enough, but somone comes along with it. A pair of pitchers are parked on the table top within easy reach, nevermind the purple sleeves of course. It's easy to miss, right? The clatter of a chrome plated helmet with those distinctive red occular lenses? Yeah a little more distinctive, because who the hell else still rocks chrome combat gear these days? Well judging by his gunbelt, and the plating on those robotic legs? Yeah who the hell else could it be right?

    The big hare slumps into a seat, snagging one of those pitchers and a clean pint glass. "Well if it isn't Rocket, and here I thought this was supposed to be a high class establishment. Didn't think they were lettin in varmits."And well Bunny faces are kind of rough to read, but the buck tooth smile is likely a good hint. Then theres the fact that this long eared, purple jacketed doofus was none other than the legendary Blackjack O'hare. That -other- halfworlder, right? "Been awhile, how you been?"

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
"Why I aughta!" Rocket makes a big dramatic show of waving his fists in an old timey boxing motion as Blackjack makes his way up and delivers his quips about the clinetel base of the otherwise dumpy joint, "If it aint Blackjack O'hare... I heard you got arrested or somethin'... or was that someone else." He shrugs and shows all his fangs in what amounts to a raccoonish grin, "What brings you all the way out here?"

The storytime gang all dispurse because nobody needs them anymore and they've got drinks to drink. "Me? Eh, just gettin away from those a-holes I've been flyin the last few months. What about you? Shiny and chrome like a hovercar bumper. You doin' alright for yourself I see." Hands out, grabby motioning for one of the pair of pitchers.

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    "Oh, well not really. Some rich prick thought he'd make sport of me, you know? He had these real nice PRDO blasters, with engraving and all of that."You know, like the pair Blackjack's got strapped on? "He tripped and fell on a sharpened stick he was holding, damned unlucky for him it went right through his heart. Authorities didn't keep me in the freezer for too long, on account of all the other Bunnies being somewhat irritable over the situation."And well he slides that pitcher over, because he's a bunny not a monster.

    "Well, lots. Most of me is metal these days, we got a few hundred times more Rabbits than the last time you and I spoke, oh and we've got a little fleet of our own."And a pause for beer sipping, before wincing just a touch. "I tried to get ahold of you, yaknow. Figured it was only right us small'n fuzzies stuck together out here, plenty of suck going around."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
"Hate it when that happen." Rocket says of people falling on sharp sticks, but the truth is he absolutely does not hate it when that happens. It is, possible, one of his favorite things. Except for maybe shooting people in the heart. Or blowing their heart up. Mostly violence.

He really likes that.

"Well, you know what they say about rabbits breedin' practices." He too pauses to drink some of the beer held in both clawed hands, then drags his forearm across his muzzle, "You got some work, maybe? All this goody two shoes crap is startin' to give me a bad reputation."

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    "For you, naw. Mostly crewing in on big jobs, planetary evictions, colony cracking, that kind of thing."And a smirk, as the hare swirls his drink. "All obviously below the status of such a famous outlaw, especially one who's a Guardian of the Galaxy."aaand a heroic pull of that booze, before snagging his pitcher for a refill.

    "Yeah well, you know the general attitude was that nobody but us ought to be able to make decisions for us."A little shrug there, as he casually undoes his gloves and tosses them on the countertop. Making no effort to hide, yet more chrome. "You know, fleet's kooky but theres a place for you there if you want it. Ain't no reason to get wound out, just cuz you and I have ended up on opposite ends of a few contracts."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket waves a tiny hand and looks away from Blackjack cackling, "Don't you jump on the train too. I got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all." Obviously he has some level of loyalty for the Guardians or he'd have long since left, but that doesn't mean he's above cashing in on some of his more lucrative former associations, either.

"Well, if you need a big gun to show you tiny rabbits how to handle big guns, you know there aint nobody in the universe better at that than me." Both hands lift his mug to drain a sizable portion in several big gulps. "Groot too, I guess, but he's startin' to act like a little asshole now that he's gotten a few sprouts. Mostly just sits around doin' frakin nothing. Lazy prick."

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    "Oh yeah, goodness I forgot you were hangin with a tree. Sounds like a teenager."And a pull of his own pint. "Next he'll be asking for a shuttle, and combat stim implants, and blaster pistols, and going on and on about politics and how some shit isn't fair."Eyes rolled, because well there are no shortage of teenage bunnies back in the fleet. "If we need a big gun though, we'll be sure to call Quill and ask if he'll let you come play with your friends from the old neighborhood."

    "Hey though, no joke Rocket. You did everyone a solid, makes business easier on us even. Don't know what would have happened if you weren't there, besides me having to come in and do everything better than you for half the price."And a grin, as he sips his beer. "I seen Rocket dolls showing up here and there you know, and no foolin that's pretty cool. Gonna break their hearts if they ever meet you."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
"Ask Quill.." Rocket repeats that with no small amount of snide in his tone, "More like ask me what Quill can do, he might think he's the Captain, but that's just a clever ruse to get his guard down. Besides, he's too busy waxing his own ego to worry about whatever I'm doin while I'm not on the ship."

As for being in the right place at the right time, "Meh.. I did what anyone who didn't want the galaxy to be destroyed woulda done... and those are all my idea. I knew a guy on Knowhere who had an old factory where he made those weird sex toy that were burn people alive?" Another long swallow of beer, "Well he owed me a favor on account of I didn't knife him over an insult and he let me put out a small production line... Nice steady profit from merchandizifyin' my likeness."

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    Thats enough to actually get the hare to turn his chair, and peer suspiciously over towards rocket. "You got the dude who made thermobaric sex toys, to make stuffed toys in your likeness? You sure he ain't makin, yaknow like "adult" Rockets for clients? You can't let those kinds of people have your likeness, some rich freak gets caught one time and now your rep gets blown all to hell."Not that he'd know, mind.

    "I'll tell you what though, if you wanna make a little side scratch I might have a little payin sort've favor you could do. What on account of the Black Bunny Brigade being accused of war crimes, and so fourth they won't let us land on Terra."And a pause as he refills that pint. "I imagine you're on better terms, on account of your commanding officer being from there."Oh here we go, weakpoints detected.

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
"Yeh, I guess he could do that and I could go stab him to death with a clip full of blasterbolts." Rocket counters with a quivering lip sneer at the meer idea someone might use his likeness in that unpleasant a manner. "To be honest, though, I don't know that I really care what weirdos do with it once they buy it. If I know Terran culture half as well as I think I do from watchin' Quill, one'll end up in someones butt anyways."

Because that's an epidemic.

Rocket's eyes narrow a little as the conversation turns towards paying gigs and going to Terra, "I hate that planet. They got all these strange customs and laws that don't make no sense, BUT...there's a whole group what fancy themselves protectin' the fuzzy creatures.. real easy to dupe too because they aint use to talkin' fuzzies." Which is besides the point.

"What do you need on Terra?"

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    "It's where our gene stock comes from, both of us I think. Certainly the Bunnies though, I've seen photos right? Well I need genetics, with us trying to be a real species in the scheme of things? Well we need a more diverse dataset, keep us healthy yeah?"And a pull of his beer. "So I need a catalog of genetic profiles, or a ride there where I can get'em on my own. It's no big deal, figure a few thousand credits and a favor owed?"

    "Oh no obviously lower lifeforms, I've met one too. Had tea with them in fact, had'em over to the house and everything. Was lovely, really."Blackjack O'hare, tea drinker:Confirmed. "I also met some Captain Marvel lady, who seemed like the opposite of fun. Took a job nearby awhile back, figured we'd just stop by and grab the data. She shut that shit down right out of the gate, didn't want no big mean Bunnies to bully her precious people I guess."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
"OH yeah... Captain Marvel, she's doesn't screw around. She's friends with Gamora... or Quill, hell maybe Drax.. She's friends with one of them." Rocket waves his hand and finishes off his beer in another long pull and wipes the foam off his jowels, "You jus want some pictures of Terran bunnies? I don't know if you've been there, but those guys? They aint like us. They're little dickheads is what they are... some of mine, they were crappin' all around the ship like they were wagin a siege on our trash or somethin'."

He grumps about it quietly, but shrugs "But if you want stock material, I guess I can help ya out. Never know when I might need an army of cute bunnies to distract a two headed Slorian. Send whatever ya need to my datapad an I'll see what I can do next time I'm over there... which hopefully wont be anytime soon." But probably will.

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    "Wait, no I have a scanner. You just point it and pull the trigger, scans their DNA profiles. It's handy, but it's like the least satisfying gun ever made. The church would have a melt down if we brought a terran Rabbit off planet for any reason. They already think I'm out to get them, it'd be a mess."Because the Bunnies have a church, why wouldn't they? "I get they're just animals and all, we just need help to map out the whole genome's root stock as it were. Help us figure out how to square some things up, make the kids healthier."

    "Well she's a total buzzkill, I was in total business mode too. I mean I had candy and stuff, but she didn't want none of that noise. She just came and like, creeped on us recovering this crashed ship. Like would it kill her to have a seat and have a drink, felt all sorts of wierd."And a sip of his own beer amiably "Never figured out we're all on a neural-net though, total mood crasher all the same though honest man."

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
"So I jus point the scanner at'em and it records whatever you want recorded? Cus I aint tryin to be on Terra for longer than I gotta be. That place smells like... well I don't know what it smells like, but I don't like it." Rocket scratches at the back of his neck and grabs for the rifle leaning up against the bar what's about as big as he is.

"She has that power over everyone, if I'm bein honest. One time she jus came up on the ship makin' demands like we worked for her.. which we may have at the time, I don't know, but that's no reason to go actin all high and mighty." Rocket slides down off his stool and slips the strap of his rifle over his head, "Gimme your gun sanner and a way to contact ya once I've got your scans. If this run turns out alright, maybe I'll smuggle you onboard the Milano next time an you can do whatever you need to do yourself."

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    "Yeah, makes a little beep."Blackjack snags a little, well it looks like a toy raygun but he flips it to Rocket all the same. "Just drop a line to the Mercenary guild, they'll snag me. I'm not usually in anyplace for very long, workin Rabbit and all that you know? My contract handler there will know how to snag me though, yeah?"Theres a pause, as Blackjack flips a few coins onto the counter top to cover Rocket (presuming he'd have paid anyway).

    "Hey no shit Rocket, there ain't that many of us and only one of you. Ya'll need somethin, don't be a stranger alright? Universe ain't a nice place for us little guys, righto?"And well Blackjack rises to boot. Threading those ears through his helmet, before pulling it down with a flare of those brilliant red occulars.

Rocket Raccoon has posed:
Rocket looks at the raygun toy scanner in his hand like it offends him how well it fits into that hand, then tucks it away into his belt where it looks awkward against the plethora of much bigger weapons he's almost never seen without. "Aight, shouldn't be long... couple days maybe. Dependin' on how sore they are about the incident." Which he doesn't get into.

"Good thing too, galaxy couldn't handle more than one of me." Said with what accounts for a grin, all fangs visible. Two fingers touch to his brow and snap out in something like a salute, "Stay safe out there, less someone think you're dinner." Then he's off, adjusting his belt as he pushes his way through the throng of legs standing between him and the exit. "Move, get outta my way, hey... I'm walkin down here, you frakin animals!"