Rocket (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ididntasktogetmade) wrote2019-09-15 03:41 pm
ididntasktogetmade) wrote2019-09-15 03:41 pm
Entry tags:
Work In Progress
This whole plan sounds crazy as shit, and Rocket is thoroughly on board.
While the finer details of the plan is being hammered out by those with the patience for such things, the raccoon is hard at work building the actual devices that're gonna make it possible in the first place. There's a lot of work to be done, and they're not exactly in a time crunch, but the sooner they get this over with, the sooner Rocket gets his family back.
The huge, empty room used to be a garage of some sort, but now it's home to the skeleton of an enormous platform that's slowly taking shape. The sound of tools is partly drowned out by the rock music blasting out of what must be a very expensive sound system, giving Rocket a rhythm to work to, his ears twitching in time with the music as he hangs from the underside of the platform to install one of several dozen crystalline focusing panels. Somewhere on the other side is Stark, looking much less starving than the last time Rocket saw him, whistling along with the tune as he installs what looks like several miles of cable and circuitboards.
There's a loud thud as Banner sets down a heavy crate on the floor, damn near dropping it, and Rocket raises his goggles to glare at the humie. "Hey, watch it. You break those panels, we're gonna end up spaghettified in the time vortex, pal. Why not get all big and green if you're gonna carry the heavy stuff?"
Banner grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. "I don't think that's a good idea. Using Hulk for manual labor's like using a nuke to kill a mosquito. He's more likely to trash this whole thing. He doesn't understand this kinda stuff."
Rocket pauses, and drops from the frame onto his hind feet, turning the world rightside-up again. He doesn't know Banner and this Hulk persona at all, but people are people, no matter how big and green they are. And even though scientists make his skin crawl, this one's as much a freak as Rocket is. Maybe more. And freaks gotta stick together. "You ever consider that maybe the reason he don't like you is because you talk about him like a dumb animal?"
Up on the platform, Stark's whistling comes to an abrupt stop, but Rocket doesn't bother looking over his shoulder to see what the look on his face is. Instead he focuses on Banner, whose expression flits between embarrassed and angry, cheeks flushing faint pink. "Excuse me?"
"Nah, don't think I will." Rocket drops his wrench into the toolbox, and treads forward to jab the human in the knee. "Look, I don't gotta know all the nitty-gritty details between you and your bigger half. And I get hatin' what you are. Believe me. But you gotta learn to live with it. Big Green's a part of you. So what if he ain't so bright, plenty of dumb folks can get shit done. But maybe he'd do better at it if you'd help him out instead of shovin' him in a closet all the time and pretending he's got nothing to do with you. Folks are stronger together, isn't that the whole point of this? Put the brain and the brawn together, or you're gonna be stuck hating each other until you die, and that's a long fucking time for you humies. If you can't trust yourself, who the hell can you?"
Banner just stares at him, mouth agape, and Rocket rolls his eyes and climbs back into the frame, tail swishing irritably. It's not until he gets down there and clinging to the scaffold by his feet that he realizes he's forgotten to pick up his wrench, and he's already cursing under his breath when a big green hand reaches out to him with the tool cradled on the massive palm.
Rocket looks at Hulk upside-down, the green giant peering back at him with naked curiosity, and an almost childlike smile on that massive face. "Mouse talks a lot," Hulk grunts, grinning as Rocket swipes the wrench out of his hand.
"Yeah, well, sometimes talking gets you further than fists," the raccoon answers, tipping the goggles back over his eyes. "Get me that power screwdriver thing too, will you? We got work to do."
Stark had estimated it would take a further two weeks to fully construct and calibrate the time travel machine. With Hulk's assistance, which gets more and more helpful as they go, only eight days pass before the platform stands finished in the belly of the Avengers complex, waiting for the travelers to venture forth on the most important mission they will ever undertake.
Rocket holds up a little hand in triumph, and the jolly green giant taps it in a high-five.
While the finer details of the plan is being hammered out by those with the patience for such things, the raccoon is hard at work building the actual devices that're gonna make it possible in the first place. There's a lot of work to be done, and they're not exactly in a time crunch, but the sooner they get this over with, the sooner Rocket gets his family back.
The huge, empty room used to be a garage of some sort, but now it's home to the skeleton of an enormous platform that's slowly taking shape. The sound of tools is partly drowned out by the rock music blasting out of what must be a very expensive sound system, giving Rocket a rhythm to work to, his ears twitching in time with the music as he hangs from the underside of the platform to install one of several dozen crystalline focusing panels. Somewhere on the other side is Stark, looking much less starving than the last time Rocket saw him, whistling along with the tune as he installs what looks like several miles of cable and circuitboards.
There's a loud thud as Banner sets down a heavy crate on the floor, damn near dropping it, and Rocket raises his goggles to glare at the humie. "Hey, watch it. You break those panels, we're gonna end up spaghettified in the time vortex, pal. Why not get all big and green if you're gonna carry the heavy stuff?"
Banner grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. "I don't think that's a good idea. Using Hulk for manual labor's like using a nuke to kill a mosquito. He's more likely to trash this whole thing. He doesn't understand this kinda stuff."
Rocket pauses, and drops from the frame onto his hind feet, turning the world rightside-up again. He doesn't know Banner and this Hulk persona at all, but people are people, no matter how big and green they are. And even though scientists make his skin crawl, this one's as much a freak as Rocket is. Maybe more. And freaks gotta stick together. "You ever consider that maybe the reason he don't like you is because you talk about him like a dumb animal?"
Up on the platform, Stark's whistling comes to an abrupt stop, but Rocket doesn't bother looking over his shoulder to see what the look on his face is. Instead he focuses on Banner, whose expression flits between embarrassed and angry, cheeks flushing faint pink. "Excuse me?"
"Nah, don't think I will." Rocket drops his wrench into the toolbox, and treads forward to jab the human in the knee. "Look, I don't gotta know all the nitty-gritty details between you and your bigger half. And I get hatin' what you are. Believe me. But you gotta learn to live with it. Big Green's a part of you. So what if he ain't so bright, plenty of dumb folks can get shit done. But maybe he'd do better at it if you'd help him out instead of shovin' him in a closet all the time and pretending he's got nothing to do with you. Folks are stronger together, isn't that the whole point of this? Put the brain and the brawn together, or you're gonna be stuck hating each other until you die, and that's a long fucking time for you humies. If you can't trust yourself, who the hell can you?"
Banner just stares at him, mouth agape, and Rocket rolls his eyes and climbs back into the frame, tail swishing irritably. It's not until he gets down there and clinging to the scaffold by his feet that he realizes he's forgotten to pick up his wrench, and he's already cursing under his breath when a big green hand reaches out to him with the tool cradled on the massive palm.
Rocket looks at Hulk upside-down, the green giant peering back at him with naked curiosity, and an almost childlike smile on that massive face. "Mouse talks a lot," Hulk grunts, grinning as Rocket swipes the wrench out of his hand.
"Yeah, well, sometimes talking gets you further than fists," the raccoon answers, tipping the goggles back over his eyes. "Get me that power screwdriver thing too, will you? We got work to do."
Stark had estimated it would take a further two weeks to fully construct and calibrate the time travel machine. With Hulk's assistance, which gets more and more helpful as they go, only eight days pass before the platform stands finished in the belly of the Avengers complex, waiting for the travelers to venture forth on the most important mission they will ever undertake.
Rocket holds up a little hand in triumph, and the jolly green giant taps it in a high-five.
no subject
Soon there’s no more reason to wait. No more time to stall. There’s only so many variables to be planned for. Whatever else they run into will have to sort itself out on the fly. There’s only so many variables to be planned for. It’s now or never.
“Suit up and assemble.” Steve should have prepared something to say. He does, sometimes. Now would have been a good time for it since his heart is still a jumbled mess. But he should have spoken from it months ago so now’s as good a time as any. Steve squares his shoulders and puts on his best Captain America face for everyone who’s left. The last of their dysfunctional family gathered together.
“We’re not the people we were half a year ago. No one remains the same after they’ve lost so much. Family, friends, pieces of ourselves that can’t be replaced. I’ve tried. So instead, we’re going to take it all back. As much of it as these stones can bargain for.”
Every weary face turned his way. Steadying themselves for what’s to come.
“You know your teams. You know your missions. We don’t interfere, we aren’t to be seen. We’re only there for the stones and to get them back here. There are no do-overs today. We can’t afford to make mistakes. Those of us going somewhere we know can’t let our guards down because we’re faced with the familiar. Those of us facing the unknown know the price of failure.” Steve stares back at each of them in turn. Origin hardly matters; in this moment everyone assembled here is an Avenger.
“You can only rely on each other out there. Be careful. This is…” Steve feels his throat tighten and stops. Sucks in a breath to try again in a more even voice. “I don’t have to impress on anyone here how important this plan is. We’re gonna do this. We’re gonna make this right.” Tony’s brow is raised, head cocking to study Steve with intrigue that hasn’t been there in years.
“Whatever it takes. Together.” Steve drops his gaze down to his own hands. Runs the gloved finger tips over his palms to try and ease his own nerves. His voice is quiet when he murmurs, “Good luck.” As though he’s forgotten everyone is still looking at him.
no subject
This is it. And Thor could no more walk away now than he ever could, when there is still something he can do.
And yet it feels oddly just like old times as Steve turns to face them, his face a mask of leadership, his voice clear and steady, one last rally of the troops before battle. Thor clasps his hands together and listens, trying to take those words in and make them a part of himself, to truly believe that this will work.
He doesn't quite get there. But his hands shake less as Captain America speaks his piece, and when someone - maybe Banner, maybe Lang - puts his hand out in the center of their huddle and the others follow suit, Thor joins them, his hand on top of Steve's. His eye meets the other man's across the circle, and he nods once. "Together," he echoes, and tries so hard to believe it for the others, if not for himself.
"He's really good at that," Rocket murmurs, sounding mildly impressed, glancing over to Lang, who agrees wholeheartedly.
They all step back, taking their positions. Helmets on, sealing them in as the time machine spools up, the reflectors above shifting to calibrate for the time shift. The lights in the floor pulse, circles within circles stretching downward until it seems less a platform than standing above an endless yawning pit. And then it reaches out and snatches them up, shrinking them down and casting them through time and space, the platform standing empty in their wake.