Guardians of the Galaxy: Collect Them All by Corinne Duyvis

Author:Corinne Duyvis
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781302902728
Publisher: Marvel
Published: 2017-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

GROOT?” Rocket called through his comms. “Gimme an update.”

Rocket walked back into the intact—ish—part of the bar, shaking dust from his tail. The explosion he’d just set off had permanently closed off the hallway, finishing what Drax had started. In the main barroom, the blast had knocked a couple of chunks from the ceiling, torn a large crack into one wall, and sent several bottles crashing to the ground—aw, what a waste. The place was still standing, at least. He’d have plenty of time to work in peace.

Rocket knew a thing or two about blowing up buildings. He could do it with surgeon-like precision.

Having cleared the barroom for him, Gamora had moved outside, leaving behind a carpet of sparking, twitching metal body parts. He spotted her through the broken windows, a green blur on the street fighting off any bot that approached the bar. Quill hovered above, assisting her.

“Groot? Hel-lo?” Still nothing. Rocket shifted channels as he walked around the bar studying the robot corpses.

Nah, that one won’t work for my purposes, he thought. The next one: Wow, Gamora really did a number on you, didn’t she?

“Drax?” he asked, crouching by one particularly promising robot body. “You have Groot with you, right?”

Drax had checked in a couple minutes ago, reporting that he was on his way to the spaceport via a hidden tunnel. Maybe the tunnel was blocking his comms, or something—Yeah, that’s it—

“Rocket. Groot is not with me.”

“What?”

“He stayed in the bar to hold off our assailants.”

Rocket shot upright.

Drax went on, “I knew you would be unable to reach him in time to assist. I…did not wish to distract you.”

“We’re gonna have words, you and I,” Rocket growled. “Back room?”

“Yes.”

Gamora would’ve checked the back room for bots—unless the door was locked, which would suggest the robots had never made it in.

He tried the door. Yup. Locked.

Could be a good sign. Could be a bad sign. Time to find out.

One explosion later, the door had a hole in it the size of Rocket himself. He crouched, peering through. Right away, he saw why the door hadn’t opened. It wasn’t because it had been locked. A heavy industrial rack from the narrow kitchen had been yanked away from the wall. It had crashed against the edge of the kitchen counter, a few feet across the room. The rack still leaned against the counter, positioned diagonally against the doorframe. The weight had held the door firmly shut.

A vine was curled around one metal beam.

Rocket climbed through the hole in the door, wiggled a path through the metal rack, and landed on the other side.

The vine formed a trail through the kitchen, into a storage room that was packed with boxes, steel racks, unused chairs, and a messy desk. Rocket assumed the three robot bodies he counted inside the room were new additions.

The vine ended abruptly. Another torn-off vine lay farther down. And strewn all around the room:

Splinters.

Rocket unleashed a string of curses.

A voice came in over comms. Quill’s. “Any progress on the—”

“Groot’s gone,” Rocket snapped.

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