In 2011 Cassidy Taylor was forced to flee earth with the mother she never knew when the Kree came for her. Three years later she's working for the Nova Corps on Xandar with her mother when her mother is killed in an attack by Ronan's soldiers.
And C...
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I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation I've never been afraid of any deviation An' I don't really care if you think I'm strange I ain't gonna change
The gray slop sloshed around on Peter's tray as he walked away from the server. If this was what they were feeding prisoners every damn day, it was a wonder the Kyln hadn't had more riots. Or maybe that was the point - the food was so bad the prisoners didn't have the energy to revolt. Because no way in hell could he understand how so many people ate this shit on a daily basis.
Rocket joined him with equally unappealing crap on his tray. Did the Nova Corps just figure out the least appealing food for every species and make sure the prison was fully stocked? Jesus.
"If we're gonna get out of here," Rocket muttered as he stepped out in front, "we're gonna need to get into that Watchtower."
Peter followed Rocket's nod. The massive tower stood in the dead center of the room, looming over everyone and everything that happened in the Kyln. He'd call it a silent guardian, but in all honesty, whoever was in there only cared that nobody escaped. The prisoners could all collectively lose their minds - attack, kill, and maim each other - and the guards in the Watchtower wouldn't give two shits.
"And to do that," Rocket continued, taking a seat at one of the tables set up for eating, "I'm gonna need a few things." He sneered up at something on one of the higher levels and Peter turned to see Cass watching them. "The guards wear security bands to control the ins and outs of the prison. I'm gonna need your girlfriend's."
Peter glanced up at Cass, who caught him watching her; the small smile she offered him warmed his chest in ways he didn't really want to think too hard about. "I don't think that'll be a problem."
"Good." An elderly man hobbled past the table, wobbling slightly on an obviously cheap prosthetic leg. "That dude there."
The look of disdain on the raccoon's face as he watched irritated Peter - wasn't the guy's fault he needed a prosthetic. What the hell kind of a-holes did he ally himself with now?
"I need his prosthetic leg," Rocket said.
"His leg?!" Peter exclaimed. Definitely an a-hole. What the hell was the guy supposed to do, hop around the prison? Rip apart one of the catwalks and make himself a crutch?
"Yeah," the raccoon said. "God knows I don't need the rest of him, look at him - he's useless."
Peter bit back on a remark that might've alerted the guards to their escape and/or instigated a fight. Deal with the escape first, then worry about morality.
Up on the catwalk, he saw Cass head to the stairwell that led down to the Watchtower.
"And finally," Rocket continued, completely oblivious to Peter's disdain, "on the wall back there is a black panel with a blinking yellow light. Do you see it?"
