Chimera [][] GotG [][]

5. [][] The Break Out [][]

The group gathered in the main area of the yard room, while the rest of the inmates began stirring, getting up for their morning meals and chores.

Marisol disregarded all of this. She knew full well just how repulsive prison food could be; she tended to avoid it whenever she was able.

Starlord and some of the others yawned, exhausted from having gotten little to no sleep the night before.

Marisol's own eyes burned slightly, but she was used to getting a minimal amount of sleep by this point in her life.

She hadn't, after all, had a proper rest through the night since she was eleven years old thanks to the torture she'd endured and the nightmares that plagued her sleep.

The thought of nightmares invited her dream from the night before to come rushing back to her. Marisol grimaced, forcing the images from her mind before they became too over whelming. She needed to focus on getting out of this hell hole.

"By the way," Rocket said when he spotted Marisol. "You owe me thirty units."

"What!?" Marisol snapped, suddenly forgetting all about her nightmare. She shook her head roughly. "Nuh-uh! You owe me thirty units! We had just barely been here one night before she was attacked!" She pointed at Gamora, who rolled her eyes.

"The deal was she wouldn't last a night," Rocket recapped. "Not lasting means she gets dead. And, uh," he laughed deviously, "she looks pretty alive to me!"

Marisol rolled her own eyes, scoffing quite a bit. "Bullshit! She would have been dead if my cousin wasn't such a pinche pendejo!"

"Well, it still counts." Rocket folded his arms over his chest, looking up at her with a stubborn look of scorn.

Mari shook her head again vigorously. "It does not count!"

"It does too!" Rocket insisted.

"It does not!" Marisol huffed, pointing at her cousin. "He interfered with our bet!"

"We discussed nothing about anyone not being able to interfere," Rocket said. "So, I say it counts!"

"Well, I say it doesn't!" Marisol grumbled. The two best friends glared at each other, the others standing behind them, all looking fairly annoyed.

"It counts!" Rocket said before turning to Groot. "Groot, tell her it counts!"

Before the tree man could respond, though, Marisol let out an angry groan. She threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "Eres un bastardo infiel!"

Rocket rolled his eyes, arms still folded over his chest. "I am not a cheating bastard! You're just a sore loser!"

"I am Groot," Groot interrupted, telling them to shut up.

The two went quiet, both mumbling words of irritation under their breath before quickly growing serious again.

Rocket stood up straight, dusting himself off a bit. "Right. Escaping. Well, if we're gonna get out of here, we're gonna need to get into that watchtower." He pointed to the structure at the center of the yard room.

Rocket hopped on the table as everyone else took a seat around him. He spoke seriously, drawing the group's attention on to himself. "And to do that, I'm gonna need a few things."

Nodding up to one of the catwalks where a guard was fiddling with the device of his wrist, he said, "The guards wear security bands to control their ins and outs." A prisoner left the room as the guard opened a door. "I need one."

Gamora nodded curtly, leaning forward, pressing her hands to the table as she spoke monotonously. "Leave it to me."

Rocket gave his own nod in response. Glancing around the yard room to see what else he'd need for their escape, he spotted one prisoner with a robotic leg, hobbling around with his food tray. "That guy there," he pointed to him, "I need his prosthetic leg."