Chapter Text
“You know what? Screw Nebula.”
A weird thing to hear, apropos of nothing. But one glance to where Gamora is sitting, slowly but steadily making her way through her drink, makes it clear there’s more. And whether or not anyone was listening she was going to have her say...
“Calling me for help only after someone is actually dying? What is wrong with her?” says the green-skinned woman with what can almost pass for real anger. Throwing the now empty can clear across the room before finally putting to words what’s really bothering her. “What if the next time she doesn’t call me at all?”
“Well, what if she doesn’t?” she finds herself saying in reply. “What if she just handles it herself without having us adjust our plans to her personal drama...? She does have her own people. It’s should be their job to...”
But the other Ravager is too busy being angry at her sister to be listening. “Well, if she thinks I’m letting her do that she’s wrong.”
Not sure what exactly was that supposed to mean, she finds she’s holding her breath in anticipation of the next angry statement. Because there is some kind of a plan taking form behind Gamora’s dark eyes and given by her state of outrage – and intoxication – she can’t begin to guess what it can possibly be.
“I need a way to know what’s going on in that stupid space skull,” Gamora announces.
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” chuckles Stakar, apparently deciding that as the captain it’s his job to get involved in this. “Those a-holes she hangs out with are always at the centre of whatever the weirdest thing going on in the galaxy is. If we knew what they’re up to we’d know which parts to steer clear off.”
“I mean they are always getting in trouble. Half the time it’s on purpose. And what if it’s going to get worse now that Star-guy and Bug left?” Gamora says, all the more passionate on the subject now that she’s been agreed with, if only jokingly. Because the captain couldn’t have meant that. That wasn’t the kind of idea they got the whole crew together over so they can work out an actual plan of action... “I mean who is even in charge right now? I don’t know. Why would I need to be told...?” Gamora snaps with angry indignation.
At a person who is currently lightyears away.
“Too bad there’s nothing you can really do about it,” she says, trying to be the voice of reason even when it’s clear no one in this room was in any mood to listen to that.
“If I could just see for myself...”
And with that it’s officially too late. The idea is in her head now and it’s not going anywhere. The best that can be hoped for is that Gamora will at the very least sober up a little before implementing it.
“So that’s what we’re doing? Tapping into whatever security system there is on Knowhere? Because good luck. Last time I saw it it barely had any buildings that were completely intact.”
“That’s right.”
Which is not the tone she wanted to hear from Gamora. Not when, by the way her eyes just lit up, she must have thought of something she was certain was a brilliant plan.
“That city is in pieces, isn’t it? Full of all these weird creatures from Quinn’s world and all those children... They won’t refuse help, not when there’s that much rebuilding that needs doing. If anyone gets suspicious we just tell them... Half of us are orphans. And we’re not monsters. Why wouldn’t we want to...”
“Because we’re Ravagers and that is very off-brand for us,” she interjects finding she heard just enough of that brilliant plan. “Captain, please tell her we have too many crimes to commit to have any time to spare for random acts of altruism.”
“I always considered myself an altruist,” Stakar replies with a barely suppressed grin. Apparently finding this whole thing too hilarious to want to put a stop to it.
Alright. Time for a different tactic. “Nebula’s not an idiot. She’s going to know we’re up to something.”
“Nebula let that golden psychopath stay in her city because a tree asked her nicely. That’s the kind of decision that makes sense to her,” Gamora says, making a face. “The blue idiot’s gonna get herself killed if I let her...”
Which was clearly what she wanted to believe. That she was the daughter of Thanos that actually had a handle on being an adult. After all, here she was, drinking heavily in-between committing crimes while her sister was very irresponsibly taking care of dozens of traumatised children. Clearly she was the one that needed oversight. Someone to stop her before she did something really irresponsible, like delegate galaxy saving to other people so she can cut down on the violent interludes in her life and focus on being a leader instead...
But for all that, there was no talking Gamora out of carrying out her plan. She knew better than to try.
***
“What are you doing, person I don’t know?”
“Well, if you must know, tiny bear,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at the speaker, “I’m fixing your surveillance system.”
“Oh... Our surveillance system,” nods the furry creature, pausing for a beat before adding, “that we don’t have.”
“And now you do. You’re welcome,” she replies.
“Since when are Ravagers in business of spying on people?”
Oh, right. So they were not done with this conversation. “Some of us call it caring. Well... one of us. That would save everyone so much time and effort if she just spoke to her sister like a normal person.”
“Yeah, figured it was something like that,” says the... fox? Well, a canine of some kind, anyway. If a little more talkative than they normally were. “Good to know yours has issues too.”
“Please,” she chuckles. “You don’t get sympathy for being stuck with the unproblematic daughter of Thanos. Now, if you excuse me – I have a very murderous friend that needs enabling. Crazy green stalker said she needs this done today...”
There is a chuckle, but she is left alone to carry out her work in peace. For a time. Until the next curious citizen of Knowhere stops by to inquire what she is up to... Which is a question she dwells on more and more with every new camera attached to a street corner.
Join the Ravagers they said. It’ll be exciting, they said...
***
“You know, at first I was like... This is a terrible idea. We should not be doing this. It’s intrusive, it makes us no money, it’s just generally not the kind of thing we do,” she comments, standing at the door of Gamora’s cabin. That’s almost unrecognisable, what with all the screens that have been added to it since their little trip to Knowhere. “But...I think I’m ready to admit you were right. We do need to keep an eye on that place. I mean just look at the dangerous activities they’re involved in...”
“Why does she bother asking?” replies Gamora, clearly addressing one of her screens. “She knows what the dog wants. All she ever does is ask for treats.”
“Hey – you wanted a front row seat to that.”
Gamora glances at her then, to let her know with an unamused glare, that she stood behind that decision. “They’ll get in trouble again. It’s only a matter of time.”
“I mean... you’re probably right about that,” she shrugs. “But right now they’re having a breakfast. Which is what we should be doing. Can’t raid an arms dealer’s stockpile on an empty stomach, right...? Come on. You can watch your sister be wholesome some more when we get back.”
“How the hell is she being this patient with them? That dog asked her the same thing three times in the last five minutes,” Gamora grumbles as she, very reluctantly, gets up from her chair.
“You really need to take it down a notch. All this stalking. It’s not healthy.”
“All this what...?” the green-skinned woman asks aiming a death stare her way. Letting her know, in no uncertain terms, this is the time to rephrase what she just said.
“I meant caring. All this... caring... isn’t healthy.”