Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Deviant Member Maritza CamposFemale/Mexico Recent Activity
Deviant for 6 Years
Needs Premium Membership
Statistics 507 Deviations 2,362 Comments 32,680 Pageviews

Newest Deviations



“But seriously, what are you doing here?” Rocket seemed stuck in puzzled mode.
“Real happy to see you too, buddy,” Quill said, sarcastically, although without an edge.
“I called him,” Desiree intervened.
Rocket turned around to face Des.
“Didn’t we agree to call him only if we didn’t find Groot ourselves?”
“Whoa, wait. Groot is missing? Well, that explains why he’s not here trying to give me a rooty high-five.”
“It’s complicated,” Rocket started. “But really, I’ve got everything under control. There was no need…”
Desiree interrupted. “I have no patience for your macho pride, Rocket. We need all the help we can get, and fast. I wasn’t even sure if he was going to come, so I have to see what I have to work with.”
Rocket groaned and rolled his eyes. “Well, since apparently yer in CHARGE now, you can explain the whole sitch ta your new underling yerself, doll,” he said, and left the room to go look for some tools.
Quill’s eyes were fixed on the female lagomorph appreciatively. “Well, HELLO. And you are…?”
Desiree smiled politely. “Desiree. I’m the Captain.”
“NO, SHE’S NOT!” Rocket moaned in protest from the other room.
“Obviously, not the Captain of this ship. My ship is… out there.”
Quill snorted.
“That’s a SHIP? It looked like something built out of legos and chewing gum.” He smiled sheepishly. “Uh, no offense.”
“None taken. It probably was.” Desiree shrugged. She cocked her head. “Are the other Guardians in your ship?”
Quill sat down and put his boots up on one of the chairs.
“Nope, they’re… well, who knows? I can ring them up and could go get them if necessary. I have no idea what’s going on, tho, sooooo….” Peter pointed in the general direction of the broken panels and all-around mess.
“There’s no time for that,” Desiree said. She sat down and explained the situation in a very efficient, economical manner. When she finished, she asked: “Any questions?”
Peter Quill blinked as if still trying to process all that info. “No. Actually… no.”
“She’s ex-military, Quill, they don’t know how to tell stories properly,” Rocket said, carrying a box of stuff with a somehow pained look about him. He put it down.
Quill looked at him. “Cosmo says hello, by the way.”
Rocket raised an eyebrow. “Good ol’ bastard.” He started pawing around in the box. “Des,  Brock seems to be doing fine, but why don’t  you check? I could really start using his help ‘round here soon, if he’s up to it.”
Desiree looked at Rocket. Then she nodded and left.
Rocket turned around briefly to see she was not there. “What.”
Peter Quill dropped his voice. “Tell me about it.”
“What she said, mostly.”
“Mostly, as in different tales?”
Rocket shook his head. “I’m being straight with them. But perhaps she didn’t tell you why I boarded their ship. I guess I should tell ya, I wanted to borrow a Gun. To copy the schematics.”
Quill scratched his beard. “Illegal?”
“A Gun with a capital G,” Rocket shrugged.
“Money with a capital M, I’m guessing. Aaaand jail with a capital J, too.”
Rocket’s tail fluffed down. “I was just going to sell a few. And I was going to add up things of my own design; in any case, MY design would not be outlawed. At least until they wised up. But I’d end up clean.”
“Planning a jailbreak again, then.”
Rocket looked at Star-Lord indignantly.
“Whaddayamean, it’s a hole-proof plan!”
“Right. Did you bother asking a lawyer?”
“Of course not, do you think I’m crazy?”
Quill just looked at Rocket.
“Ain’t getting caught. And anyway, I have to solve this problem first.”
“Mmh-hm. Listen, Real talk. What is your investment in this… C-c-…” Quill snorted. “Cocky character. Okay, I gotta stop doing that.”
“Can’t blame ya if you don’t.” Rocket snickered.
“Curvy told me why she wants to rescue him. But why do you? He’s a friend of you, I’m assuming, but I have rarely seen you rescuing people from bounty hunters, and I guess you do know a lot of people on both sides.”
“Well, yeah. Bad form. The job is the job. But… yeah. He’s my friend. Of sorts.”
“I’m just wondering what you’re getting into. Bounties rarely get over a million. I just want to know if we’re gonna try and rescue a mass murderer or worse.”
Rocket made a face. “The buyer is the Khail Empire. And yeah, Cocky is a mass murderer if you consider war casualties murders. He’s a war hero on the B’eel side.”
“Oh. And you want to go into a slapfest with the Khail Empire over a friend of sorts.”
“Nah, it’s not only personal, Quill.” Rocket’s hands worked automatically, almost without even looking. “Cocky was stuck in a POW camp for a year. He led a rebellion to escape, and afterwards, he personally liberated a dozen camps or so. He was already wanted by the Empire before all that, but afterwards… well. Evidently, the Khail wants to make an example of him. I don’t wanna let that happen; it would be monstrous. You can see that, don’t you?”
“Mmh.” Star-Lord scratched his beard again. “Wouldn’t it be easier to contact B’eel, let them handle it?”
“We can’t. Cocky got himself exiled from his own planet, because he’s a huge idiot. Lost his crap and punched the president or something. No help there whatsoever.” Rocket shook his head.
Peter Quill nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, I agree with you on this. But if your friend is delivered to the Khail, there’s nothing we can officially do about it. The Khail has a non-aggression, no-intervention pact with the Galaxy Forces. I know, we’re not technically in the organization, but this could trigger a diplomatic crisis. And you know how the Khail gets.”

“I get it, don’t touch the poop. Still, this is about getting Cocky back from Blackjack. And of course, this is also about getting Groot back.”
“Speaking of ships, why don’t you just leave your ship parked here? It’s gonna take some time to fix, I’m guessing. Let’s just take the Milano.”
“S’a matter of pride. Goddamn carrot-muncher thinks he can touch my ship?? I’ll teach him!” Rocket swished his tail indignantly. Then he mellowed out. “I only need like an hour of work or so, but in the meantime, could you check around the ship? We think Blackjack might have thrown Groot out of the airlock.”
Peter Quill looked at Rocket, seemingly about to insist. But then he shrugged, as he knew from experience Rocket would not be convinced. “Okay, let’s see if we can find ourselves a Christmas tree.”
“It’s been a while. Hurry,” Rocket pleaded. Then he let his mask on again. “I mean, we have to leave soon.”
Quill left without saying another word. He knew better.
“Wish you had told me what you wanted long comm for,” Rocket snickered darkly. “I woulda worked on it twice as fast.”

“Wish you had told me you could work on that twice as fast with some proper motivation,” Desiree said, deadpan. “Anyway, they took the bait. Cocky’s coordinates are no longer moving towards B’eel, but to the drop point. We’ll be meeting them before they reach it if our calculations are right.”

“How big is the error margin?” Brock asked. He looked pale and not that well. Desiree got out a miniature device and applied it to the tall lagomorph’s neck. “Hey,” he protested.

“Your blood pressure’s not that bad, but you’ll probably need a break soon, Brocky.”

“Aw,” Brock protested again.

“And to answer your question, our error margin is something around 3 hours if the ship starts working in the estimated time.”

“That’s really tight. I’d rather finish the job and then have a long…nice… sleep.” Brock said. He tried grabbing a tool from the chair next to him and ended dropping it on the floor. Rocket looked at him.

“Go on and take that break now, champ. Last thing we need is you drooling all over the circuits.”

Brock sighed and nodded. He got up shakily and got out of the cockpit to lie down in the med bay.

Rocket kept on working silently. Desiree kept staring at the portable data screen. Without looking up, she said:

“Error margin is around 1 hour, actually.”

“He’s that bad, huh?”

“I don’t want him to get that bad. He could be. I’m going to try and make him rest for as long as he allows it.”

“If you’re meaning to ask if I can cover for Brock, the answer is yes. But like you said, margin’s tight. It means I have no room for error. If I screw up, we’re going to be late, and Blackjack will be delivered to the drop point. And I don’t think you have that kinda money, dontcha?”

Desiree got up and stretched a bit. “Oh yeah, just let me, you know. Write you a check.”

Rocket turned around and frowned. “Are you telling me you’re loaded?”

The female lagomorph rolled her eyes. “What do you think?”

Rocket shrugged. “But you had to have something. They don’t post any bounties if you don’t cover the fee and at least half the bounty for a dead criminal.”

“Someone inside owed me a favor. There is no actual bounty, it was just broadcasted that way. In a few hours the bounty will be deleted. We’ll claim it was some kind of glitch in the system. And it’ll be all right as soon as no one actually turns up with a Blackjack carcass to claim the prize. I guess I’ll be getting a bounty on my head myself in that case.”

“Oh well, we don’t want that to happen, yeah?”

Desiree shrugged.

“To be honest, it’s a win-win situation. I could probably go around collecting gifts from all the people Blackjack has screwed over, and pay the bounty in less than a week. And, you know. Dead Blackjack.”

Rocket started laughing, but then the laughter suddenly died. “Maybe I’ll get to claim that prize myself.”

“On my head, or Blackjack’s?”

The raccoonish creature scratched his ears nervously. “I know you been busy scamming the bounty board system, but have you made any progress about Groot?”

Desiree shook her head. “Our best bet is to spend at least half an hour circling around this area and see if he’s outside. Otherwise, Blackjack must have taken your friend as well.”

“Or I’ll be sticking needles under his fingernails until he tells me what he did with him.”

“Well, we’re going to leave our ship around here. We can set up a beacon and that’ll make a starting point for any search party if it turns out he was thrown out of the airlock around here. He’s a Guardian, too, won’t any authorities send help if you ask?”

“We could try,” Rocket said. “Actually, I should just tell Quill. I’m sure he can take a five minute break from whatever ridiculous thing he’s doing on Earth and help save the life of one of his team.”

“Very well. Do you want me to try to contact him now?”

“Let’s do the circling around first. Quill might be too late. I want to try.”
“What did you say,”  the tiny lagomorph repeated, in shock. “What did you just say.”

Blackjack cackled with dark glee. “Did they do that thing to you where they stick you inna box and play loud music at ya? Guess so.”

“It is not possible,” Cocky said. He was standing up now, although he seemed nailed in place. “I got captured. My whole squad did. We got a distress signal coming from a crater, and, and when we got there…”

“Stole yer army comm codes from you that last time. Remember? I was tryin’ to gather some support to not get kicked out of the Thirteen. But I already had a Plan-Bee. One with a sting,” Blackjack stood up himself and tossed his helmet aside. “A bit o’ generosity on your part coulda saved you, Cockwell. I guess I made you pay for that.”

“But… but the Wirmenian captured us… not the Khail… they, they just sold us… they…” Cocky babbled, barely coherent now.

“I sold the codes to the Khail, and they gave them to the Wirmenian. BAM! Win-win-win. You lose.” Blackjack got closer to the cage, and with every step, Cocky seemed to be getting more and more unhinged. “They already got a reward set for you, but you were very hard to trap, and you were surrounded by very loyal people. Bribes didn’t work. So I went to the Khail and proposed an alternate plan. I got paid handsomely for the information, and didn’t have to deal with you or your crappy army friends.”

“You…” Cocky started saying, but he couldn’t go on. His whole fur was standing on. He stood as close to the wall cage as the chain allowed it. It rattled as he shook in rage, and his breath fogged the glass.

Blackjack himself took another step forward, and the only thing standing between him and his old enemy was half an inch of unbreakable glass. He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“An’ speakin’  of healing guns, I heard the Khail have ‘em too. I’m guessin’ they used that to keep ya alive no matter what they did. App’rently they did a shoddy job on actually breaking you, but as they say, life always gives ya another ch-”

Blackjack recoiled suddenly as Cocky unexpectedly bashed his own forehead on the glass of his cage with stunning force. He should have gone down after the first hit, but he somehow kept going at it, three, four times total. Then he fell down, unconscious, only leaving behind a red smear on the glass, which had not cracked in the slightest.

The black rabbit looked at the bloodied heap on the floor of the cage. “Aw, Hell,” he muttered, and opened the first aid locker on the opposite wall. There was a single healing gun there, and he took it out. He cautiously approached the glass cage and opened it. After a moment of hesitation, he kicked Cocky in the kidneys, hard. He knew from personal experience it was impossible to fake unconsciousness through that, so he kneeled down and slightly pressed on the prisoner’s head, but it was difficult to tell if there was a fracture or not. He got up again. “Cocky, you dumb little bitch,” he mumbled, and shot the unconscious lagomorph with the healing gun, anyway. It was probably going to take Cocky a while to wake up, so Blackjack guessed something had to be done about what had happened. He couldn't hit Cocky with the healing gun for the rest of the day, so as amusing as it was playing with him, they couldn't afford Cocky hurting himself again, at least not in a fatal way. The chain could be shortened so the captive couldn’t reach the glass, but there was still the wall, and the bench, and the floor.

Blackjack scratched his head and started thinking Cocky would have to be completely restrained for the rest of the trip, or simply put under sedation. His thoughts were interrupted by Murray, his second-in-command.

“Blackjack, we… whoa. What happened in here?”

“Mark went crazy,” Blackjack shook his head,  pensive. “We need ta make sure he doesn’t kill himself. Load a canister of Big Sleep on the cage chamber, prolly our best bet.”

“Right away, boss. But I think you should know, there’s a mmh. Situation going on.”

Blackjack stepped out of the cage and closed it.

“Good or bad?”  Blackjack took off his blood-smeared gloves and fetched a fresh pair from one of his multiple pouches. “Get on with the canister thing, we can’t afford him waking up or we’ll lose our million.”

Murray nodded and put away the healing gun while he surveyed the boxes in the first aid locker. He finally located one and took it. “It could be real bad, boss. Well, it is already bad, but… y’ know, I don’t want to accuse anyone…”

The black rabbit frowned. “Just tell me b’fore I get on mah slapping mood, Murray.”

Murray opened the box. “Well, the men were looking at the bounty bulletins, and…”

“Not interested in any bounties until we deliver this one here. Or what? Don’t tell me his bounty was cancelled.”

“Nah, that’s still going on. But… someone put a bounty on you, Blackjack.”


“One million units if dead, two million units if alive.”

Blackjack stared at his underling, dumbfounded. Then he started roaring with laughter. “Well, whaddayaknow? Cocky’s friends got balls, alright. I’m pretty sure they don’t have the money, but it’s hilarious anyway.”

“I don’t think it’s funny, Blackjack.” Murray cut open the box with his pocket blade. “Half the galaxy is going to come after our ass. It’s too tempting, even with our reputation.”

The black rabbit chittered. “Oh man, you’re really worried, ain’t ya? Relax, man. Listen. We deliver this guy, and afterwards, we get that bounty cancelled, one way or the other.”

Murray got out one of the very heavy canisters and nodded. “Maybe we should make sure to cancel the bounty first, or we risk getting ambushed while we make the first delivery.”

Blackjack shrugged and leaned down to pick up the remaining canister himself. “Nah, no time for that. Cocky’s buyers are not bounty hunters, so I’m pretty sure they won’t even know ab-”

CLANG! The sound of the canister hitting the back of Blackjack’s skull rudely interrupted the conversation.

“Speaking of bounty hunters, Blackjack,” Murray said, cheerfully, “we have two deliveries to make.”
Thanks to all of you who comissioned art from me I could finally get a new computer :3 I'll get to work on your pieces ASAP!

Now to reinstall everything hahaha XD
  • Mood: Joy


Maritza Campos

AdCast - Ads from the Community


Add a Comment:
How have I not given you a llama badge yet??? o_o Oversight corrected.
The fact that you favorited "Block Out the Thunder" has me floored, amazed, and tickled pink, my good friend.  Words cannot express!  Thank you! X3
crfh-maritza Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2015
i don't even really know the characters and I still like it a lot, good job
Zeephra Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2015
Thanks for the fav +fav   Meow :3 
crfh-maritza Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2015
np! :D
hydranoid2009 Featured By Owner Dec 18, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
dude......Venomized Rocket and Groot!…
crfh-maritza Featured By Owner Dec 18, 2014
gotta get my hands on that comic
hydranoid2009 Featured By Owner Dec 18, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I think it's over a couple issues. It's an event going on about the symbiote homeworld I think
2ndMercWithAMouth Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2014  Student Filmographer
Thanks for the favs :D
crfh-maritza Featured By Owner Nov 23, 2014
No problem!! :D
Add a Comment: