░L░i░t░t░l░e░ ░K░n░o░w░n░ ░W░a░y░s░ ░t░o░ ░L░o░v░e░ ░a░ ░R░a░c░c░o░o░n░

🅵🅾🆄🆁 🅱🅸🅻🅻🅸🅾🅽 🆄🅽🅸🆃🆂?!?!

⇱ 00---00 ⇲

"She's got it! Yeah, baby, she's got it!"

⇲ 00---00 ⇱

Continuation of Rachel's POV...

Later, a guard told me to remove my small, suitable metal arm, to which I hesitated but complied, on the condition that I would get my sketchbook and coloring pencils. At first, he did not want to, but the other guard agreed to the request since it's made of wood and paint only after I shower. After showering in an orange substance, I noticed my sketchbook and coloring pencils near my yellow clothes. I eagerly grabbed them into a bear hug before putting them in a changing room with Gamora.

Who stared at me in confusion before she looked away. As soon as I put on my top, I noticed no hole for my tail to fit in, so I sighed awkwardly: "Hey, Gamora...um... can you make a small hole so my tail can fit?" I shyly asked. For a moment, I thought she would reject it, but surprisingly, Gamora motioned her hand to give me my pants; I blinked and handed them to her, who used a unique trick for them and then returned them, "Thank you, Gamora." "Whatever." She responded, and we ended up in a comfortable silence.

Time skip~

We met with the boys, and the guards handed us all our sleeping mats. I catch up with Peter, who offers to hold my mat, but I decline it, saying that I can handle it, but I don't mind him picking me up and cradling me close to his chest: "Did you get a panic attack again?" He whispered, and I silently nodded: "Yeah... just... don't even get electrocuted like that. I hate it." 

"Okay, I promise." Peter takes out a pinkie promise; I shake my head and chuckle, "Good." I answer. "So... you going to tell me how a Raccoon like him acted nice around you?" "Not. Going. To. Happen." I jokingly decline his question, and Peter fails to hide his smirk before we look around the prison. I see thousands of different people around the place, and I spot one heavy-set woman crying over a hologram of her family. Making my snout tickle in disgust, I wipe it off Peter's sweater until Peter gets hit with a squishy bread. 

I cringe, the sticky substance coating his face, "I don't think that meant to throw it at you, Peter." Peter gives me a look. He turns and sees a lot of prisoners leaning over a railing on the second floor: "You first! You first!" "Murderer!" "Coming for you first, Gamora! You're dead!" More people yell at Gamora, "You're scum! You're scum!" Someone throws something at Gamora, and she flinches; I got concerned about them bullying her like that: 'I hope she doesn't get hurt.' I thought as we all continued walking.

"It's like I said, she's got a rep." Rocket tells us, "A lot of prisoners here have lost their families to Ronan and his goons. She'll last a day, tops." "The guards will protect her, right?" Peter asked, making him shrug at that question, "They're here to stop us from getting out," he responded. "They don't care what we do to each other inside." I look at him in disbelief: "We're allowed to bully others? I might as well do it."

"Whatever nightmares the future holds," Gamora interrupts, "are dreams compared to what's behind me." 

Peter turns around to walk forward, only to cause us to run into another big blue guy, and I snarl-up at him with a cold stare, "Check out the new meat," He says, running his large hand down at Peter's face: "I'm gonna slather you up in Guanvian jelly, and go to town..." His hand tickles the underside of Peter's jaw, 'Y'know what? I hate the Klyn prison, and this guy is creepy!' Before he can even touch me, I bite hard enough on his large hand that I use my strength to rip it off of him with blood squirting out by coating my yellow clothes, and I spit it out of my mouth as if I didn't care about the eyes burning holes on me: