donttouchthefur | first escape

[VIDEO - public]

[When the feed clicks on, there's what appears to be a raccoon staring at the screen, teeth bared and lips pulled back into what might be a vicious smile, if smiling was a thing raccoons were capable of. He's dressed in what can only be called a jumpsuit, made of red fabric and dark leather, and if the utter chaos that can be seen behind him is any indication, he's not exactly thrilled to be there.

When he speaks, however, there's no trace of that, only sharp humor and the kind of arrogance that says this is only a setback. Temporary.]

Two joints in two days? I'm flattered, really, wasting all that time and money on little ol' me. Sorry about that last one, but if you look in the depths of your measly breeder hearts it was a cakewalk and you know it.

So who are you, Nova or Kree? Not that it matters. We're all screwed either way, right?

[SPAM]

[They'd given him a communicator, and honestly that was all he needed to know about the place. They were soft, they were stupid. He'd be out of here in no time, and never mind Ronnan and his stupid giant hammer. If the Galaxy was doomed he didn't want to be anywhere near the center of it, and okay, so what was the point, he knew that, but survival instinct was strong.

First order of business after seeing what bit on the network was seeing what he had to work with, including the comm. Depending on how it worked, what kind it was, he could use it to hack or blow something up or at least zap something, but when he pulled it apart it exploded, showering him in confetti and multicolored string and Styrofoam pellets. What the hell...?

So much for that plan. Whatever, he'd figure out something else. Had to be plenty of patsies to work, every place had at least one.

He ventured outside the cell after that, roamed the halls he found on the other side, and it was way nicer than anyplace he'd been before, way too cushy for a real prison, but he could work that too.

He worked his way into the ductwork, easy enough with his size and claws, peeked a head out wherever he found a grate; other cells, communal bathrooms, a gym, a library... A few wouldn't open, so he scratched and clawed and pulled and cursed at them, eventually moving on when they didn't give. Had to find a tool for it, he'd come up with something. Come back to it.

He found the deck, climbed the railing to stare at the stars, try to pick out where in the universe they were. If he could figure out where he could maybe figure out a way off, somebody to contact, something to take advantage of. He found the mess eventually, ventured in when he finally got hungry enough, walked across the floor like he owned the place, like he wasn't two feet tall (and he knew that was being generous). Like he was somebody not to be messed with.]

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[The snarl's impulsive.]

I'm not vermin. Don't call me that.

[He's not touching the dead thing with a ten foot pole, not right now anyway. Maybe it hasn't quite kicked in yet.]

[Her expression is impassive...for a moment, and then her inherent politeness gets the better of her.]

You're right--that was uncalled for and I apologize.

I mean, how would you like it if somebody called you somethin' nasty like that? Like...I dunno, an ape or somethin'. I'm not some...idiot pest that eats garbage, yanno?

[The more worked up he gets over it the more wild his hand gestures get until finally he just sighs heavily.]

And anyway, how d'you know I'd be dead if they didn't pick me up. You can't know that. What, were you watchin' or somethin'?

I apologized. What more do you want? [But come on, where she comes from, raccoons are garbage-eating pests.]

I know because that's the way things work here. All the inmates died back where they come from. I've got no reason to think you'd be an exception. You died, the Admiral scooped you up, and now you've got a second chance.

Yeah, yeah, I heard you. I'm just saying.

[He slumps then, sufficiently cowed, for the moment at least. It's a sore spot okay, at least he's not threatening or anything.]

Well maybe I don't want a second chance. Maybe there's other people who should have it. I didn't ask for anything.

[Okay, now she almost feels sorry for him, and her tone is a little gentler in response.]

You're not the only inmate who didn't want or think he deserved a second chance, and I can't tell you how or why the Admiral picks the people he does. All I do know is you're here for a reason, and you can make good on that second chance. Or not. It's up to you.

What if I wanna trade it. What if there's somebody else I know who should have it instead.

[Well damn it. Now he's gone and made her feel all sympathetic toward him.]

I'm sorry, but as far as I know, you can't trade your chance. It's yours and yours alone. There's only one way I can think of that you might be able to help someone else, and that's to graduate and become a warden yourself. Then you can make a deal with the Admiral.

But that's not... That's STUPID. Why would anybody do that. I don't want to make some idiotic deal with some guy I've never met. I gotta be dead, okay fine. I been close enough loads of times. But there are people who are just so...STUPID and IDIOTIC and do really....stupid things that get them killed and they don't DESERVE that, okay?

[He's starting to breathe harder now, waving his arms around to punctuate and getting increasingly worked up about it the longer he goes on. It's stupid, it's ridiculous, this whole thing isn't even CLOSE to fair and he's absolutely not going to cry about it. He's fine. Angry, but fine.]

[She remains silent and allows him to vent. Sometimes a person just needs to do that, get it all out, because there's nothing else they can do.]

I'm sorry. It may be stupid. It may not even be fair, but it is what it is and what it is is your second chance.

Who's the person you'd trade with? Friend? Family?

[It doesn't make him feel any better. It doesn't change anything, it's just as unfair now as it was a moment ago and he's still the one stuck here. But he could rage about it for hours now and not get anywhere or he could stop and not get anywhere. Nothing changes either way. Takes less energy not to rage.]

You just said it doesn't matter, so why bother asking?

[But he drags in a couple breaths, drops down into a crouch, and shrugs, staring down at his feet.]

Friend.

It matters to you.

[And that says something about the raccoon. He's still a rude, argumentative little shit but he's a rude argumentative shit who is capable of caring about someone else.

She crouches down to put herself more on his level.]

Was he with you when you died? Is it possible he survived?

[Rocket shakes his head, fists clenching. He doesn't look up at her; he can't. It's too much like weakness, easier to stare at his feet and focus on feeling angry about the whole thing. He doesn't want the sympathy he assumes will be there.]

Nah, he went first. Shattered into a million little pieces playing a hero like an idiot.

[She reaches out and very gently, very hesitantly touches his shoulder.]

In that case, you have my sincere condolences.

[He can't help the tension that flows through him at the contact, no matter how gentle, no matter how careful, as he looks up at her then, just staring, trying to figure it out. Defensive is baseline, but while he doesn't accept it exactly, he doesn't shrug it off just yet either. It's closer to freezing, a sudden stillness, like he doesn't quite know what to do, and then the moment passes and he huffs, head dropping again, and pulls away to evade.]

It's fine. I mean, he's the one who... It's not a big deal. The whole thing was a suicide mission anyway.

[She allows him to pull away without comment, though she remains in a crouched position.]

No, it is a big deal. However it happened, it's not nothing. Unfortunately, it's a not nothing none of us can do anything about however.

Yeah. I know. Kinda how it works.

Sadly, yes, it is. This ship is one place that doesn't follow all the rules, though, so you can still help yourself even if you can't help your friend.

'Cause that makes me feel a heck of a lot better.

[So much bitter sarcasm.]

Not now, but eventually it might help a little.

[He snorts; he'll believe it when he sees it.]

first escape

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