Space 101
Roleplaying Log: Space 101
IC Details

Clint Barton sets up a meeting with two aliens to talk shop about space and its potential threats.

Other Characters Referenced: Star-Lord, Gamora, Jessica Drew
IC Date: May 17, 2019
IC Location: Gotham City
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 18 May 2019 06:51
Rating & Warnings:
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

As abrupt as the Guardians who had at least for a while been employed under S.H.I.E.L.D. as freelancers, or perhaps better called freeloaders, a specialty of theirs, it seemed that they did a fair job of pulling a vanishing act from New York City as a whole. With the Triskelion's fall and the subsequent chaos that's been happening due to the new law being put into effect, it had served as an unintentional smoke screen for their disappearance. Certainly there are more important things to deal with than a ragtag group of outworlders. But for as sneaky as they made themselves scarce from under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s wing, with Phil Coulson to cover their tracks on the records end, if there's one thing the Guardians of the Galaxy aren't, it's subtle.

If one were looking for information, sightings of a raccoon that walked on its hind legs and talked, and some kind of tree person that some have taken to calling a young Ent, then it wasn't difficult at all to find it. There weren't just rumors. There were message boards spilling with the encounters. Amateur photos hastily taken on cellphones, in which it looked like sometimes the subjects in question actually posed. Or flipped off the picture taker. They definitely weren't trying to hide, and they didn't care to blend in. They just simply weren't in New York.

Nope. They'd be found in Gotham City.

Clint would be the first to admit it, despite seeing the dossiers on Rocket and Groot he still felt a little foolish asking around for a raccoon (though he'd be told not to use that word with Rocket) and a tree. Though as the message board posts and other things piled up, he was fairly certain Jess hadn't simply been pulling his leg.

So off to Gotham Clint went, spreading the word with his contacts, especially the ones that dealt in arms, that Clint Barton wanted to meet the pair at their earliest convenience.

In Groot's defense, he just doesn't like wearing clothes. Not all the time, though; jackets are fine. Pants are a whole 'nother story.

For now, he foregoes all of that. In one hand, he holds his prized handheld video game. In the other, it's…food. A hot dog with all the trimmings dripping off of it as he saunters along. His attention span is split between both, his mouth trying to eat in one direction as his eyes keep track of his pitiful one-handed score in the other.

"I am Groot," he teen-grunts, annoyed that his toppings are hitting the pavement faster than he can taste them.

It's a good angle. It's probably the best angle. If there's anyone that's been in contact with the unusual pair in this city, it's definitely those in the underground weapons business. Mostly those who have seen Rocket and his toys in action and thought they could make a good deal with the raccoonoid, or just get rid of him and take the goods for free. Unfortunately for them the small Guardian liked to charge outrageous prices, and those that went the more violent route ended up losing more than gaining.

Nevertheless, a reputation has definitely been established, and with Clint's hook baited and set, it hadn't been long before the two had come around for the bite.

"I told you, just pick one thing an' do the other after," Rocket snorts, eyeing the treenager flatly after having swallowed down a chunk of his own loaded hot dog. "Preferably eat. Look'it this mess. Knew I should'a just left you back at the ship." Shaking his head, he readjusts the strap of the large duffle he carries over his shoulder, taking another vicious bite of his food. He's got a jacket on over his usual wear, some weak attempt to obscure the set of strange pistols he wears at each hip.

The address they'd given is just up ahead, and once they've crossed the street, Rocket turns down into the alleyway, nose sniffing as he looks around.

The address Clint sent along is an old SHIELD safe house, basically an old garage they stuffed some sleeping bags and food in. Barebones, but it was a place in Gotham they could meet securely and out of the view of the general populace. Clint had made sure it was properly prepared for the meet, first with the practical stuff, video cameras and motion sensors in the alley to make sure they weren't disturbed, and then the essentials, beer in the fridge, and a fresh pizza laid out on splintery old table in the middle of the old garage.

Let's just say Clint liked to keep things informal.

Spotting the two coming on the cameras, he goes and opens the door, managing to keep a check on his urge to double-take when he sees the two in the flesh… or wood… whatever. "Hey, c'mon in," he offers stepping aside to let them in.

"I am Groot." The treenager's old enough, he can't be told what to do anymore! Except he finally gives in and takes Rocket's advice, stuffing his game somewhere on his body so he can dig in on the hot dog. That at least makes things go a little smoother from that point onward.

As they go down the alley, Groot isn't as aware of the situation as the raccoonoid Guardian is. But even if it looks clear, he can still glance over his shoulder just prior to being greeted by Hawkeye himself.

The initial impression the man gets is one of plantlike indifference as he makes his way past him. "I am Groot."

Inwardly glad that it isn't just some shabby abandoned back alley meeting, Rocket looks around, still on his guard as he enters the old garage with Groot. A furred brow lifts at the man who's come to greet them, suspicion coloring him all the more for the lack of the usual reaction.

"Hey yourself," he says, shrugging as he glances at Groot before looking back towards Clint. "So, what's this all about?" Right to business.

Clint does his best to keep a good poker face while the two file past but he can't help but look a little, wondering when his life got this interesting. Groot's commentary is taken as a introduction, "Hey Groot," Clint replies.

Once they're in he lets the door close behind him and checks the laptop for the camera feed to make sure they're not going to be bothered. Convinced the coast is clear, he looks up. "Make yourselves at home, got pizza over there," he nods to the pie on the table. "And beer over here," he nods to the fridge behind him. "Wasn't sure what you guys liked, but figured who hates pizza?" He smiles at that, then continues, "As for what this is about, I'm Clint Barton, from S.H.I.E.L.D., and I thought we could have a little chat about space."

People usually do that. Groot can't say anything else, anyway, so it saves him the trouble of introductions.

He's half-listening to Clint as he makes a beeline for the pizza, fortunate enough to have space after polishing off the rest of the hot dog. Don't mind him — business is Rocket's area of expertise, so he'll just be on the side.

To watch. As a witness. Really.

Rocket continues to watch Clint as the guy goes through the motions of checking things, allowing his attention to drift only for a moment towards the food and more notably, the beer fridge in question. He folds his arms, brow furrowing as he waits.

Clint Barton, from S.H.I.E.L.D., he says.

"Yeah, we're not interested in comin' back," the smaller of the two aliens states, even as he moves to grab a beer. Because who turns down free beer? He keeps eyeing Clint all the while as he walks over towards him and to the fridge, picking out a can and cracking it open with a satisfying hiss.

"Anyway, whatever it is, we didn't do it," he adds after taking a sip.

Rocket and Groot have the right idea, hitting up the pizza and beer, and Clint does the same, grabbing a beer, tossing one to Rocket, then swinging by the pizza and leaving a beer beside it for Groot. You know, if alien trees drink beer.

"Well, good, we're not look at hiring you back on, like before," Clint says reaching for a slice of pizza. "And nobody's done anything yet, which is how we're hoping to keep things. What we want is intel on who the players are up in space, who might be friendly, who do we have to watch out for, that sort of thing, stuff to help us know who to look out for and having read your files, we figured, Guardians of the Galaxy might just be the people to ask," he says. "By the sound of things you guys get around and I probably know all sorts of stuff we'd want to hear."

Groot's in the middle downing a slice when he hears the telltale *thunk* of the can Clint has hospitably set beside him. His gaze drifts idly over to the beer, eyeing it, then eyeing Rocket to make sure his attention is already preoccupied with Mr. S.H.I.E.L.D. mouthpiece.

Again, he's half-listening, nodding in agreement with Rocket's immediate response to not doing anything, his head tilting slightly when Clint says he's not trying to get them to go back. In the meantime, his free hand slowly creeps over to pick up the can.

"Don't even think about it," Rocket says sharply in Groot's direction before scowling at Clint. You don't give beers to minors! Never mind that Groot used to not be so minor before. Okay it gets confusing. Regardless, his attention's easily shifted away from the treenager once again as he sets his stuff down and grabs a slice of pizza to go with his drink.

Not here to hire them, eh? That seems to come as a surprise, more so the fact that Clint didn't track them down under the assumption that they'd done something they shouldn't have. He blinks, ears perking as he listens. While he's not too crazy about having files on him it's something he figures can't be helped, all things considered. Frankly it's probably much smaller than anything a place like Xandar might have on him and the others. Which is probably a good thing. No one needs to know about criminal records, right? Riiight.

"Yeah, we get around. Or we did before we got grounded here for a while, but that's not a problem any more." He chases down a bite of pizza with a gulp of beer. "So. I dunno where I'd start. I mean, there're a lotta unfriendly types out in space. Mostly you just learn to steer clear of 'em and you're good because thankfully it's a big galaxy out there."

Clint blinks at the glare he gets for giving Groot a beer. "He allergic or something?" it doesn't even occur that Groot might be a teenager. The beer is left alone for now, with Clint keeping an eye on it.

"Well, we'll want to hear it all, and we can do it over as many sessions as you want, food and beer on us of course, plus with an added bonus of us owing you a favour," for those times where they actually did something. "Sound fair?" the agent asks.

As for the galaxy and the bad folks who live in it, Clint nods, "Yeah, got to figure that's what's kept us safe for the most part, lots of other more important planets, but sooner or later more of those unfriendly types are going to come and we'd at least like to know what they're about before they kick us in the teeth like the Chitauri did."

There's a disgruntled 'BAH' sound shortly after the warning as Groot relinquishes the can, letting it wobble-spin to a stop on the tabletop. Lots of frowning is had, but he puts his energy into chomping away on the pizza slice he's almost done with.

Whatever Rocket explains to Clint about space and its dangers, he pretty much gets the gist of it. "I am Groot," he adds, slightly muffled by chewing as he procures another slice for himself. Their staying here has been an adventure in itself, and it's been…interesting. Fun? Maybe.

But he supposes Clint has a point. His bark-covered brow furrows in the man's direction, but he sort of gets what he's talking about. Plus free food is always good when making a deal like that.

"He's a glarkin' kid," Rocket points out, even as he chugs the rest of his own beer. Because Groot has the very best role models.

The suggestion of space sessions has him look curiously at Clint as he strokes his chin. "Terra finally gearin' up to explore space? Last I checked, you guys took days just to get to your moon. Now, if yer thinkin' of hiring us out for some space intel, it's gonna cost you more than beer and pizza," he grins.

The grin vanishes with the mention of the Chitauri, and Rocket glances towards the ground. "Right. Well, so much for tryin' to keep a low profile. On the bright side, I guess you could say yer already introduced to one of the worst threats."

"He's a kid?!" Clint exclaims before giving Groot a second look. "How big do your people get?"

As for Groot's commentary, Clint gets a bemused look and lifts his fingers in a wave, "Hey Groot," he says. "Does he understand any of this?" he asks Rocket, before adding to Groot. "Sorry if you do, man."

"Not explore exactly," Clint says remembering his beer and taking a swig of it. "Just keep an eye on the neighbours from a distance. Like you said, our ships lack for horsepower," as for the price, Clint grins, "Don't forget the favour too, I mean, nice to have if you get into trouble," he remarks. "Though what else would you want before you consider it?"

"Well that's something," Clint remarks grimly of the Chitauri, "At least we didn't start small, almost gives me hope we can handle whatever's next," he says though there's not a lot of mirth to it. It wasn't like S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have enough home-grown problems to deal with already. He didn't want to think of more aliens.

The treenager pauses, setting his pizza down as his free hand goes above his head. "I am Groot."

He may have snuck a rude gesture in as well, but it's the truth in height matters. He's just a scrawny tree right now.

He repeats "I am Groot" again in different tones, acknowledging the fact that he can understand what's being said. It just seems to be a one-way translation thing on his end.

While he hasn't been very smiley in this stage of growth, the neutral frown deepens upon his face at the mention of the Chitauri. He mutters, stuffing his face once more as the negotiations continue. From his experience, the Guardians are a crazy team. They can handle whatever's thrown at them. Trouble is something they can't fully get away from.

"He was way taller'n you when we first met," Rocket says, which might be terribly confusing, but it seems that the smaller Guardian isn't about to indulge in the story of how his pal was blown up into smithereens. Clint's other question does get a nod. "Oh yeah. But he can only speak in three words and in that particular order of 'I', 'am', and 'Groot.'"

He makes himself comfortable after picking up another slice of pizza, and with Groot's beer can unclaimed, Rocket helps himself to that too. "Right, right. I guess that's the smart thing to do when you can't go head 'em off in space." He nods approvingly. "Mm. Favors are good I guess. But you can't pay for a lotta stuff with favors, you know." He grins toothily at the mention of getting into trouble. It's kind of their thing. But the real question of what he would accept as payment looks like it gives Rocket some real thought as he chews on his second slice of pizza.

"Hmm. I dunno. Maybe I'll use this uh, favor thing as a placeholder."

Taking a swig of beer he nods slowly as the deal with the Chitauri sinks in. That's something Rocket wouldn't wish on anyone to have to deal with.

Clint watches Groot's little mime show, uncertain if he saw that rude gesture or if it meant what he thought it did. First aliens, give him a break alright? Though by the changes in tone and by his reactions he's pretty sure the guy could understand him. "Then definitely sorry man, didn't want to talk like you're not in the room," he offers Groot a smile.

Clint is dying to ask for details on how Groot ended up shorter, but holds off, first meetings and all that and he didn't want to seem like a rube. "Huh. So, I am Groot means just about everything then?" he asks the two of them.

Rocket's remarks about the favour have Clint easing into things, it's familiar to him from his life on the edges of the law, just the guys he hung with back then were a little hairy. "Alright, we can go with that, and if you feel you need further compensation, we'll work that out at the start of future sessions?" he asks.

The sudden downturn from both regarding the Chitauri is mirrored by Clint as he says, "Anyhow, if it happens again this time we'll be prepared," not that he's looking forward to it either way.

Maybe? Maybe not? Clint's apology is met with a very Groot-y halfhearted shrug. "I am Groot," he replies, shaking his head a little.

One day, Hawkweye. One day he may get to know what happened to Groot. Just…not now.

Despite the Chitauri news, the negotiation over compensation sounds pretty good to him. "I am Groot?" he asks Rocket, wondering (genuinely wondering) what the furry Guardian will say to that.

Rocket nods at Clint. Groot-ese is one of those languages you just learn to pick up after being around him long enough. With the matter of payment and favors settled, the raccoonoid gives another nod, approvingly. "Sure thing," he says almost dismissively, waving a pizza crust in like fashion. "Can even get the others in on it. I dunno about Quill but I'm sure Gams can offer some good info." He peers at the man in consideration.

"We could even bring you out to space~" he says, perhaps a little tauntingly. It seemed to be a big deal with these Terrans after all, and with the amount of people Atli invited aboard the ship for missions to Fix Everything they may as well have started a tour company.

With a shake of his head, Rocket gets up to set his newly emptied beer can down and help himself to another. "So uh, if you don't mind my askin', what's brought up this whole interest in potential space enemies? No fresh Chitauri invasion's happened so far as I'm aware- and no one from space brought down the Trike."

Groot's shrug and grooting is met with a nod, he takes it for acceptance of the apology.

As for the comment about the compensation, "I hope that was support," he smiles to Groot.

"Quill that's that Star-Lord guy?" he asks remembering him from the files. It was easy to do because frankly Clint was a little jealous. "And Gams is Gamora? Yeah, all of them would be welcome to the deal," he assures Rocket and Groot.

As for the prospect of going to space, Clint can tell he's being taunted but that weighed against a trip to fricking space? He'll take the taunting. "If you're serious, I'm up for it," he says with little to no hesitation. Okay he was being a bit of a rube here, but if it pans out he'll be a rube that's been to space.

Rocket's question gets a nod, and Clint answers, "Not my story to tell, just got tapped to be the messenger, but I think I can safely say our interest predates the fall of the Trike, and it's more about prevention rather than a response to any one thing."

He knows Rocket. Rocket likes getting paid. Quill does too.

That's…basically it. Groot may care less, but he sees nothing wrong with payment for their work.

Hawkeye's lack of hesitation for the free trip to space gets a small smirk from the treenager. Not many can resist the call and he's proving it. But he nods nonetheless, backing up Rocket's words on that account. "I am Groot."

"Star-Lord, yeah." If Rocket detects any notes of jealousy from Clint, he…actually he'd be pretty puzzled. This is Quill they're talking about. "And yeah, Gamora. Number one female you don't want to upset," he adds. "On the account that she'll kill you." No probably's about it.

As Clint predictably takes the space-bait, the racconoid just grins knowingly. Really, he can't blame these Terrans for jumping at the chance. It seemed like only select people got to take a space trip and it wasn't even to go very far. A nod. "Sure thing. I'll see what we can do to set ya up then."

There's the hiss of the next beer can as he pulls the tab, but his ears are perked and listening for the answer to his question when he finally turns again to face Clint. "Hm. Fair enough. I mean, it's a reasonable concern."

Clint hopes that last 'I am Groot' wasn't the teenaged alien laughing at him. Though he can hardly blame him if he is, he totally bit that hook way too easily. Which shows as he fights a smile when Rocket says he'll set something up, trying not to look like a happy puppy about the whole thing.

The rest, it gets a nod, "If it helps I can see if the person who sent me wants to come to the sessions, but you know, after the trip to space, she's already been."

He wasn't laughing. Much.

Okay, maybe a little.

But hey, everything seems settled. Groot leans back, looking somewhat satisfied. "…I am Groot," he says, taking a moment to sit before leaning forward again to stand. He also takes the pizza box so that he and Rocket have more munchies on the way out.

"You make it sound like we're teachin' a class now. Space for dummies." Rocket smirks. "If you wanna invite 'em along for space lessons that's your call," he shrugs.

He looks over at Groot who, typical to teenage attention-span, seems to have it in his head that it's time to leave. Not that Rocket's going to object. He came expecting to do some weapons demonstrating or having to fight their way out of something. If Clint wanted proper references then it was probably better to provide visuals.

"It's past Groot's naptime so we'll just take our leave for now," he says, even as he helps himself to a few more cans of beer from the fridge, dropping them into his duffle. Clint can see the barrel of what looks like it might be a rifle of some kind as he unzips the bag to do so.

"Well it's more or less what we're doing," Clint offers with a smile. "Space lessons, I mean, and yeah, I'll see if they'll come." He was curious which way Jess would go with it, but he'd find out soon enough.

Clint downs his beer as the two gather up provisions. "No worries, I should report back too," he says reaching into a his pocket to produce a burner phone. "My number is in it, and I've got the number for that one."

The rifle though, that raises gets a low-whistle, "Nice," he says. "Next time we do this, we're definitely going to need to do some show-and-tell."

Groot snorts. "I am Groot!" So maybe it is naptime. Rocket doesn't have to go telling everyone it is!

The less fighting there is, the more boring, but fair enough. They can all catch up with space talk and the like later, at least. Maybe Groot wouldn't even have to tag along next time, but he doesn't get his hopes up.

There's one last "I am Groot" thrown Clint's way as he turns to saunter out the door, waving dismissively. He can wait for Rocket, but they both know where the ship is. He can catch up.

Taking the phone, Rocket looks it over before giving Clint a nod as he stuffs it into the duffle too. He grins as he zips it closed and slings it over his shoulder. "Usually showing does plenty of telling, if ya catch my meaning," he says with a wink. Certainly there's been mention in those files of how much damage he'd done to the shooting range back when the Triskelion was still standing.

"Hey! Language!" he shouts at Groot as the treenager heads out before him. He shakes his head as he looks over at the video monitors just to check that things are clear before he opens the door to follow. "Kids," he mutters, tossing a wave at Clint as he slips out.

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