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Rocket Raccoon ([info]by_a_whisker) wrote in [info]hobbs_end,
@ 2015-07-19 13:16:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:gotg: rocket raccoon, rating: pg-13, witch hunters: gretel

WHO: Rocket & Gretel.
WHERE: In town, at one of the pubs.
WHAT: Rocket is.. conflicted, after an unexpected discovery.
RATING PG-13 for language and a brief mention of gore.
STATUS: completed.


Throughout his life, short as it is, Rocket has seen a great number of things ranging from the rather mild to the extreme. There were some sights that were better left unseen, as though that were possible. What he’d just discovered a little over an hour ago, was a sight that he was doing his best to forget about. To prove that it can be done, and what was better than him getting blind-drunk?

Rocket had had the luck to help Gretel find her brother. That is, his skills were proven useful in some way, although most of the work was attributed to Gretel herself. He wanted to take the credit, though, because it gave him something to think about. Finding someone’s lost brother was worth his time, on account of the reward Gretel had promised him. He just didn’t think the search would involve finding a couple of bloodied animal corpses.

If it had just been a natural death, Rocket wouldn’t have been affected so much. The animals had been skinned— and Rocket hadn’t stayed around long enough to know if the animals had still been alive when they were mutilated. All it took was the smell of blood and one brief look for him to turn around and leave Gretel behind, to do whatever the fuck she wanted at a time like this.

She could have taken advantage of the situation, and taken the corpses for food. She had killed one animal before for that very reason. What difference would it make to her, if the animal was already dead? Rocket wasn’t foolish enough to truly believe that she’d let this opportunity pass. Humies were known to take whatever they wanted, with little or no regard of what other people witnessed.

So, not quite feeling comfortable with the state of things, Rocket headed back to the motel, where he stayed for a few minutes, then he made a beeline for the nearest pub in town. He found a small one, wasted a bullet to shatter the front glass door, allowed himself into the place and disappeared behind the counter. The anthro raccoon gathered all the bottles that he could hold at once, and found space for himself at a table, towards the back. Or really, he made space for himself underneath the table. He was fucked if anyone was going to walk past and spot him sitting on a chair, like a Humie. The last thing he wanted to happen was to be joined by an uninvited guest, Human or not. Even so, he had enough sense to leave behind a note for Gretel, back at the Black Dog Motel.

The note was even cruder than his first one; this time, he’d scrawled a simple ’fuck you Humies’, and ‘don’t follow if you don’t want to get shot’. He figured that if Gretel was smart, she’d realise that Rocket’s hostility was his way of saying he didn’t want to be alone for too long. At the rate he was drinking, he’d pass out; or he’d worked himself up into such a state, that the first blurry Humie he’d see would be used for target practice.



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[info]_gretel
2015-07-19 04:49 am UTC (link)
The discovery in the woods had done more than left a sinking hole in Gretel's gut. Along with the oppressive atmosphere of the entire town, the image spread a dark cloud across her thoughts- dark enough to dampen the bittersweet elation of having been reunited with Hansel. Even though this town was very much the last place she and her brother wanted to be, at least now they weren't halved. She didn't feel like a shell with a weak ghost driving her around, functional on survival and getting to the point where she found Hansel again.

That image rang too many old bells in her head to keep that darkness at bay, and before she'd even begun to process the possibilities, Rocket had stormed off. Not that she could blame him- not at all. She remembered having a much more visceral reaction to a very similar sight. And she'd only been seventeen at the time.

The note he left confirmed her already intuitive sense to his psyche; you didn't spend several nights in an alien place with someone like Rocket without getting to know him. Hanging back for a while, however, only further seared the picture of that deer in her head. Hansel knew what was behind her eyes, because they were behind his too. Sam looked distinctly uncomfortable as well- a hint of familiarity in his eyes that she wasn't sure she wanted to ask about yet.

They all had to come together and discuss it- unpleasant as that meeting would go. After giving the raccoon some time, she assured the boys that it was probably best if she go by herself. They stayed close enough if anything happened, but it was just Gretel who eventually found the shot-out pub door and went inside.

"Rocket..." she announced her presence solemnly, looking around the gloom of the darkened pub. He wasn't anywhere obvious, and she didn't feel like accidentally getting her shins shot up.

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[info]by_a_whisker
2015-07-19 05:28 am UTC (link)
Liquor and Rocket was never a good mix, though present circumstances seemed like the best time to be drinking. He didn’t want to be given alternatives, never mind be told bullshit such as he wouldn’t be the next mutilated animal. Rocket couldn’t deny to himself that he is and always would be an animal, albeit one ‘superior’ to other creatures. Was his ability to understand and speak the Humie language a superior skill? Should he be proud of that, or the concept that due to his differences, he might not be killed like those animals? It didn’t give him hope.

Surrounded by bottles, all but one of them unopened, Rocket was determined to forget everything. He couldn’t think of anything else he wanted more, but a small part of him did, and that was for Gretel to join him. Not literally, for he was sure he couldn’t tolerate having a Humie too close, but there had to be a distance he’d be comfortable with. Even if she had to stay at the opposite end of the room, he’d be alright with that. For as much as he wanted to distance himself from her, Rocket also wanted to stay close. He couldn’t have both, though it was a decision that could wait until Gretel actually showed up. Speaking of which...

One ear flicked when he heard Gretel’s voice. The raccoon didn’t answer, choosing instead to lift his glass to his muzzle. He hadn’t been too choosy with what he took from the pub; liquor was liquor, but at the very least he wasn’t drinking the fucking cheap crap.

He lowered the glass and at the same time upended the bottle into said glass, despite knowing the thing was empty. Rocket waited what felt like minutes, but in reality was roughly twenty seconds before he set the bottle on its side and pushed it away from him. It rolled out from under his table and into full view; once it reached what could be a safe distance, Rocket unsheathed one of his guns, took aim, and shattered the bottle with one bullet. It was a waste, but he preferred to announce himself this way instead of actually calling out to Gretel.

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[info]_gretel
2015-07-19 05:41 am UTC (link)
Well. That answered that.

Gretel sighed quietly, her jaw setting with the vaguely knee-jerk notion that he may actually shoot her this time, as opposed to all the thinly veiled not!threats he liked to throw. She sent a glance to the bottle collection on the other side of the room. The bottom row had been completely ransacked. Given how much time he'd had to himself, she was actually a little surprised he was still conscious. It didn't bode well to his state of mind, or impulse control.

She stepped lightly over the glass he'd broken to get into the place, then crouched to look under the table where the bottle had come from, with at least a foot of wiggle-room, so he wouldn't feel caged. That wasn't just behavior she'd gleaned from him, either. A lifetime of saving children from horrible conditions had a way of affecting her habits.

"Hey-" she said quietly, and sat herself down on the floor. "Want a drinking partner?"

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[info]by_a_whisker
2015-07-19 06:07 am UTC (link)
On a good day, it wasn’t difficult to tell if his threats were harmless jokes. On a bad day? It was best not to cross paths with him for any reason, because he would become trapped in a particular mindset: shoot first, and move on. At those times, Rocket couldn’t give a fuck about what someone may want from him, be it information or asking him to actually do something. Like find missing family members. It had been a mistake to look for Hansel, but what's done is done.

Once he shattered the bottle, he turned his attention back to the remaining liquor and picked the next one. Unfortunately, getting the damned thing open proved to be more difficult this time, and within seconds Rocket had his teeth sunk into the cork. If he had to break a tooth or two to get the cork out of the bottle, then so be it. Getting up to find a corkscrew seemed like more trouble than it was worth. His full attention seemed spent on chewing the cork into pulp, but the reality was that Rocket was only half-ignoring Gretel.

He could see her out of the corners of his eyes, and that was all the attention he was going to give her. A pointless thought, that, because seconds later, Rocket took the bottle out of his mouth, licked his teeth to try and get rid of the fucking taste of cork. Without even looking at Gretel, Rocket offered the bottle to her; a silent request for her to get the cork out, lest he lose patience and open it with a bullet.

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[info]_gretel
2015-07-21 04:13 am UTC (link)
She accepted it gently, still watching him whale-eye her from the shadows. Her stomach twisted again, when the thought of what exactly put him- them- in this situation reminded her of more they had to deal with. That would require talking, and by the sheer smell wofting out from under the table, that was going to be a near impossible task. Rocket was a talker when sober, but she had yet to see him deal with an actual serious conversation. When he was truly upset, or scared, or pissed, he went into a silent storm cloud. She guessed that storm got a lot worse when there was alcohol involved.

Not that she blamed him. Not at all- hence why she gripped the chewed cork with her leather glove and twisted, working it free with a little effort. It popped out, and she tossed back a quick swig for good measure before handing it back. Maybe it would help.

"You know-" she began in the same quiet tone. Gretel turned her hip on the floor and set her back against the corner of the booth-seat, so she wasn't stooped over. Or directly facing him in any confrontational way. "What we saw back there... I've seen it before. A lot more than anyone should. Except it wasn't a deer, or a rabbit, or fox."

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[info]by_a_whisker
2015-07-21 05:17 am UTC (link)

The likelihood of Rocket snatching back the bottle seemed high, and in reality it was about the same as though this was any other day. Rocket was often protective of many things, not just over-sized weapons and ammunition. He wasn’t known to share, and when he did, he almost always made a joke out of it. Today’s events did not put him in a joking mood, however. Gretel would be extremely lucky if he all he did to hurt her, was to call her creative names.

Rocket’s patience with Gretel was surprising, for he was content enough to stay seated, gaze fixed on a random spot on the floor, his bushy tail curled round him. He didn’t say anything- aloud, that is, for he had decided early on that it was best if he kept his thoughts to himself. While he waited for Gretel to open the bottle, in his mind he went through a check-list of all the qualities he detested in Humies. Was it fair? Probably not, because he didn’t know if a Humie was even responsible for the animal deaths. But it made him feel a fraction better, and that was reason enough for him.

One ear flicked and turned to face Gretel when she spoke, and though he accepted the bottle when it was offered back to him, that ear flick was the only sign that he was even listening to her. Rocket studied the bottle for a moment, tracing its neck with his clawed fingers. After a brief pause, he lifted it to his muzzle and took a mouthful, then swallowed. Little of what Gretel said made sense to him, for in his opinion, she wasn’t being clear. What other animals were there left to skin, and was it information that he needed to know?

His ears pressed flat against his head, and Rocket shifted, turning away from Gretel a little more. “That makes no fucking difference, Humie. You’re not one of them. You won’t disappear next.” Licking his muzzle, Rocket took another swig, and held it in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. The bottle wasn’t easy to hold with just one hand, but he managed.

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[info]_gretel
2015-07-21 05:28 am UTC (link)
She expected no less than an outburst like that. She'd seen enough of them on his end over the last week or so- or however long they'd been trapped here together- to prepare for it. However, considering the topic of conversation, Gretel couldn't stop the sudden pang in the back of her jaw. Pain, born from compassion and empathy. Pain that tried for years to jade her to what she and Hansel did in their world, but she wouldn't let it.

She dreaded the day she stopped feeling that pain.

"It was children," she explained, every expected drop of hurt in her voice. She didn't bother hiding it. "Some...not even toddlers. Barely off their mothers' breast. Hansel and I- our life's work is hunting the things that hunt children- Unfortunately, as many as we've saved, the ones we couldn't..." The cords of Gretel's throat tightened in a silent swallow. "Those memories never fade."

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[info]by_a_whisker
2015-07-21 06:12 am UTC (link)
Children? As in, those little monsters that were down-sized versions of regular Humies? Rocket wanted to laugh out-loud, he really wanted to, but at most all he could do was snort. Why should he care about Human children, and what did or didn’t happen to them? Rocket hadn’t much experience with the things, it wasn’t his business to know any child on a personal level. But it didn’t mean he would willingly put one in harm’s way. As much as he openly hated everyone and everything, Rocket did have limits: and he wanted to keep such details a secret.

The raccoon kept his back to Gretel, the bottle in both hands now. “Those freaks always need savin’, I ain’t heard of one saving itself. Do what you want, if that’s how you waste your time. Me, I can think of better things to do.” For emphasis, Rocket wiggled the bottle, came close to dropping it. Once he got a better hold on it, he continued speaking, both ears still pointing downwards and his muzzle wrinkled in a mid-snarl.

“What good is it? Fewer kids mean fewer fucking killers, and you can’t say to me that I’m wrong! I know what you Humies are capable of, but rescuing monsters? That’s a new one!”

It was difficult to gauge if he was being fully honest or not, if it was just the alcohol influencing him. Hostility was essentially a 24/7 state for him to be in, and he wasn’t going to change any time soon.

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[info]_gretel
2015-07-21 07:55 am UTC (link)
It was a good thing Gretel told Sam and Hansel to keep their distance for this, and Rocket's second outburst certainly reminded her of how good a decision that was. She didn't know Sam very well, but his nerves were already frayed, and he knew the kind of work she did. She'd told him. His reaction may have been unpredictable.

Hansel... his would've been a lot easier to predict. He did not have her patience. He rarely dug through the broken glass like this, and with that level of targeted lash-out, Gretel had to remain silent for a while to remind herself why she was trying in the first place.

She just stared at him, her eyes on the back of his head, unwavering, sharp, but also completely raw and honest. Unguarded, and unthreatening. The only challenge in her expression now was to the futility of his cruel words- and she didn't back down.

"Look at me," she finally said, still quiet. Not so much a demand, but a reminder. She didn't have to be here. Didn't have to take his abuse, even if it was drunk and misplaced. But she was, and she was showing him why. "You want to blame me for everything that's crashing around you right now- fine. If that's what you need to do... But look me in the eye, so you know how much I mean it when I say I'll never let that happen to you."

There was nothing in her voice except pure earnest, born from all the memories she'd mentioned- that he'd just verbally shit on- and the strange, but very real companionship she'd built with the odd little being. "Anything that tries will have to go through me- even if you are the most irritating soul I've ever liked in my life...and I've had a lot of practice."

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[info]by_a_whisker
2015-07-25 03:28 am UTC (link)
If Gretel had other Humies by her side, Rocket would not have allowed her to get this close. Fuck, he wouldn’t have let the Humie team enter the pub. This was his space and his time, but since one Humie was the most he could tolerate at a time like this, Gretel should consider herself fortunate. Luck would only be involved, if he had shot at her and missed.

Rocket could feel Gretel watching him, and it didn’t influence him one way or another. He wasn’t going to get up and move, find a better spot where Gretel couldn’t follow. Perhaps he should have, but that could make matters worse. There were enough reasons why he was here, he didn’t need to add to that list.

Gretel’s request was heard perfectly— and considered by Rocket. It was clear that he wanted to ignore Gretel, to do the exact opposite of what she wanted. It felt like the right decision to make, albeit a childish one. He was better than that, a lot better. Rocket reached up to scratch at his right cheek, slowly. A minute or so of silence passed before he made up his mind, turning to look over his shoulder at Gretel for a few seconds. “You expect me to believe you? What frickin’ guarantee do I have?” When Gretel called him an irritating soul, he had been waiting for her to call him something else. That didn’t happen, much to his surprise, and at first he didn’t know what to make of it.

His need for a guarantee wasn’t genuine, for he never trusted most people to do more than act like idiots. Rocket exhaled through his nose, loud and slow, his ears flicking up and staying up: a sign that his mood had improved. “Irritating, huh? Well, Pokey, you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

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[info]_gretel
2015-07-25 03:46 am UTC (link)
She had no guarantee to give, besides her word, and for whatever reasons Gretel felt he understood that. He was just asserting his personal control over something where he had none; questioning everything and everyone- making sure they knew he wouldn't be walked over, or taken advantage of, or left in any way vulnerable. She didn't promise him anything more than she already had. It was still the truth, and she showed it by offering her hand the way they'd already shook on several other little deals in the short time of knowing each other. None of which had yet been broken.

"Whatever you say, Gorgeous," she added, a small, rueful smile on her lips.

"And when I catch the sonovabitch that did that- I'll let you have first shot at'em. Maybe we'll get some answers about this place in the process."

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[info]by_a_whisker
2015-07-25 06:05 am UTC (link)
Rocket was not determined to ignore Gretel for all eternity, though he had certainly felt like it was possible, earlier. The discovery of the skinned corpses was not going to be forgotten so easily, and he knew that. But it hadn’t stopped him from trying to, by gathering as much alcohol as he could and getting blind-drunk on his own. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to go through with that plan now, but it couldn’t hurt to have a few more drinks, right?

The anthro raccoon flashed a grin at Gretel, and might have moved closer to her, if things were a little different. That is, if he didn’t feel quite so awkward. It was puzzling, but by no means was he going to feel ashamed of himself. At the very least, he hadn’t shot anybody, just a bottle. An empty one, too, so that was another bonus.

“You’ll have to be fast, Pokey. No target has ever escaped me, before, and I’ll be fucked if I’m goin’ to let that happen.” Glancing at the nearby liquor, Rocket bit his lower lip, considering. He reached for one bottle and picked it up; using it for support, Rocket stood and stepped out from underneath the table, avoiding bits of broken glass. “If…. if I promise not to, uh… drink any more today.. what do you say about bringin’ these back to the motel, Humie?” It was a tough decision, but he had to do it. Spending the remainder of his day getting drunk couldn’t end well, and nor could it actually make a difference to what happened, out there. It was his reasoning that he could get drunk later, and in a better location.

Of course, if Gretel accepted this, his next problem would be how far he could manage walking home. As if he'd ever ask someone for help on that. Then again, Gretel had shoulders... What was wrong with the idea of him using her as a perch?

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[info]_gretel
2015-07-27 02:46 am UTC (link)
"I don't see the harm in that," she told him, letting herself relax a bit more as he came out from under the table. Gretel stayed where she was, sitting back against the booth's seat as he stepped over her outstretched legs. It was still a possibility that he'd get loaded again later, but they still had no idea what the hell was going on with the skinned animals. She would much rather deal with his surly, drunk fluffiness in the motel than have anything happen to him while he was out on his own in search of getting plastered.

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[info]by_a_whisker
2015-07-27 05:44 am UTC (link)
It pained Rocket to consider leaving behind so much liquor, but Gretel wouldn’t mind carrying what he couldn’t, or would she? Rocket couldn’t always tell with Humies. They could change their mind at the drop of a hat, in addition to other factors. Mood. Boundaries. Limits. Likes, dislikes. True, he’d already learned a few important details about Gretel, but it wasn’t a guarantee that she wouldn’t change. If anything, now was the perfect time to find out how much more use he had in her.

He studied the bottle in his hands, turning it slowly round for several seconds. Looking up, he took a few steps toward Gretel, made a move as though he was going to put down the bottle— and changed his mind. Holding the bottle close to his chest, Rocket gestured to the remaining bottles with a jerk of his head. “If you don’t get off your ass, th-things will change..!”

Without waiting for a reply, Rocket turned his back on her and began making his way towards the pub entrance, weaving across the floor in a zigzag line. He managed to avoid most of the broken glass, but came close to dropping the bottle that he’d claimed.

Once he reached the broken front door, he stared at it, brow furrowed. For a second he forgot that he’d shattered the glass; once he remembered, he stumbled through the open door frame and, unsure of which direction to take, he picked one that seemed right, though judging by how slow he walked, Gretel would easily catch up with him. Fuck, anything could, because Rocket swayed a few times and had to pause until the ground stopped spinning. He only managed to walk a meter and a half before he had to stop and lean against the side of the pub.

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