𝐢𝐢. fresh out the slammer

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑. The dim light from the cell's small window barely illuminated the figures moving around. She turned cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest, and saw several prisoners dragging Gamora out of the cell. Their grip on her was tight, and Gamora's usually defiant expression was masked with pain and exhaustion.

Sylia waited until they were far enough away before she slowly rose from her makeshift bed. She moved with deliberate care, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. Her mind raced with thoughts of how she could help Gamora. She knew the risks involved, but she couldn't just sit back and do nothing.

Silently, she followed the group, her bare feet barely making a sound on the cold metal floor. As she approached the shower entrance, she peered around the corner, watching the scene unfold with a mix of horror and determination.

The room was dimly lit, steam rising from the recently used showers, creating an eerie atmosphere. The prisoners had Gamora pinned against the wall, her face a mask of defiance despite the bruises and cuts that marred her skin.

"Gamora, consider this a death sentence for your crimes against the galaxy," one of the prisoners spat, his grip tightening on her arm. His eyes glinted with malice as he relished the moment. Gamora's jaw clenched, but she remained silent, her eyes burning with unspoken defiance.

Another prisoner stepped inside, a smirk playing on his lips. "You dare? You know who I am, yes?" His voice was deep and menacing, echoing slightly in the tiled room.

The other prisoner sneered in response, "You're Drax. The Destroyer." There was a hint of fear in his voice

Sylia turned around at the sound of Rocket's voice echoing down the corridor. "Quill!" Rocket's voice was tinged with frustration. Quill had snuck behind her, stealthily peeking into the showers where the confrontation was unfolding. Rocket shook his head in exasperation.

"And you know why they call me this," Drax continued, his voice carrying a chilling authority.

The prisoner facing him nodded, swallowing hard. "You slayed dozens of Ronan's minions," he said.

Drax's expression hardened, his eyes burning with a mix of sorrow and rage. "Ronan murdered my wife, Ovette, and my daughter, Camaria. He slaughtered them where they stood. And he laughed!" Drax's voice shook with the weight of his grief and anger. "Her life is not yours to take. He killed my family. I shall kill one of his in return."

"Of course, Drax. Here, I..." The prisoner stammered, his hand trembling as he offered Drax the dagger he had been holding.

Meanwhile, Quill's curiosity got the better of him. He began to inch his way into the room. Rocket, noticing his friend's reckless move, called out again, "Quill! What are you doing?"

Sylia, realizing the gravity of the situation, tried to intervene. "Quill!" she yelled, her voice urgent. Seeing that Peter wasn't going to retreat, she exchanged a quick, worried look with Rocket. Without a word, they both followed him into the room.

"Woman, your words mean nothing to me!" Drax roared, shoving Gamora by her neck against a nearby pillar. The impact made a dull thud, and Gamora winced, struggling to breathe under his grip.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Hey!" Quill shouted, drawing everyone's attention to him. His voice echoed in the tense silence, causing Drax to pause momentarily.

"Crap," Rocket muttered under his breath, sensing the brewing storm.

Quill took a deep breath, trying to project calm and authority. "You know, if killing Ronan is truly your sole purpose, I don't think this is the best way to go about it."

Drax's eyes narrowed, his grip on Gamora's throat tightening. "Are you not the man this wench attempted to kill?" he demanded, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Well, I mean, she's hardly the first woman to try and do that to me," Quill replied, attempting to diffuse the situation with humor. "Look, this is from a smoking-hot Rajak girl. Stabbed me with a fork. Didn't like me skipping out on her at sunrise. And here a Kree girl tried to rip out my thorax. She caught me with this skinny little A'askavariian who worked in Nova Records. I was trying to get information. You ever see an A'askavariian? They have tentacles, and needles for teeth. If you think I'm seriously interested in that, then..."

Quill's rambling trailed off as he noticed the glare Drax was sending him. "Okay, you don't care. But here's the point. She betrayed Ronan. He's coming back for her. And when he does, that's when you..." He made a slicing gesture across his throat, emphasizing his point.

"Why would I put my finger on his throat?" Drax asked, confusion clear in his voice.

"What? No, it's a symbol. This is a symbol for you slicing his throat," Quill explained, mimicking the slicing gesture again.

Drax shook his head, still baffled. "I would not slice his throat. I would cut his head clean off."

"It's a general expression for you killing somebody. You've heard of this. You've seen this, right? You know what that is," Quill said, turning to one of the nearby prisoners for validation.

"Yeah. Yeah," the prisoner said, nodding quickly.

"Everyone knows," Quill said, confident in his explanation.

But when Drax's intense glare turned on the prisoner, the man quickly changed his tune. "No, no," he stammered, shaking his head vigorously.

"What I'm saying is, you want to keep her alive. Don't do his work for him," Quill said, his voice steady and persuasive.

Drax paused, contemplating Quill's words. After a moment, he released his grip on Gamora's throat, letting her fall to the ground. She gasped for air, her hands instinctively reaching for her bruised neck.

Drax turned to the prisoner holding the dagger. "I like your knife. I'm keeping it," he stated firmly.

"That was my favorite knife," the prisoner muttered under his breath, but he didn't dare protest.

The group was now walking back to their cells, the tension from the showers lingering but gradually fading.

"Listen! I could care less whether you live or whether you die," Quill told Gamora.

"Then why stop the big guy?" Gamora asked, her eyes narrowing as she tried to understand his motives.

"Simple. You know where to sell my Orb," Quill replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

"How are we gonna sell it when we and it are still here?" Gamora retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"My friend Rocket here has escaped 22 prisons," Quill said with a confident smirk, nodding towards the raccoon.

"Oh, we're getting out. And then we're headed straight to Yondu to retrieve your bounty," Rocket added, his voice filled with determination. Sylia, walking beside them, couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. If anyone could break them out of this place, it was Rocket.

"How much was your buyer willing to pay you for my Orb?" Quill asked, curiosity piqued.

"Four billion units," Gamora replied calmly.

"What?" Rocket and Sylia exclaimed in unison, their eyes wide with shock.

"Holy shit," Quill muttered, barely able to contain his surprise.

"That Orb is my opportunity to get away from Thanos and Ronan," Gamora continued, her voice steady and determined. "If you free us, I'll lead you to the buyer directly, and I'll split the profit between the four of us."

Before anyone could respond, Groot appeared from inside a nearby cell, his large, gentle eyes blinking at them. "I am Groot," he said, his voice low and resonant.

"Five of us," Rocket corrected. "Asleep for the danger, awake for the money, as per frickin' usual."

Sylia, Rocket, Gamora, Quill, and Groot grabbed their trays of food and walked through the bustling cafeteria, blending in with the other prisoners as best as they could.

"If we're gonna get out of here, we're gonna need to get into that watchtower," Rocket began, his voice low but firm. "And to do that, I'm gonna need a few things. The guards wear security bands to control their ins and outs. I need one."

"Leave it to me," Gamora said, her eyes scanning the room for a suitable target.

Rocket nodded appreciatively before pointing out another prisoner. "That dude, there. I need his prosthetic leg."

Quill's eyebrows shot up. "His leg?"

"Yeah. God knows I don't need the rest of him. Look at him, he's useless," Rocket replied dismissively.

"All right," Quill said with a shrug, mentally preparing himself for the unusual task.

"And finally, on the wall back there is a black panel with a blinky yellow light. Do you see it?" Rocket asked, his gaze fixed on the distant corner of the cafeteria.

"Yeah," Quill confirmed, following Rocket's line of sight.

"There's a quarnyx battery behind it. Purplish box, green wires. To get into that watchtower, I definitely need it," Rocket said, pointing to the spot.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Gamora asked, skepticism evident in her voice.

"Well, supposedly, these bald-bodies find you attractive. So, maybe you can work out some sort of trade," Rocket suggested with a mischievous grin.

"Rocket!" Sylia exclaimed.

"You must be joking," Gamora said, glaring at Rocket.

"No, I really heard they find you attractive. Both you and Sylia, but we all know that won't work out," Rocket said with a smirk, making Sylia roll her eyes.

"Look, it's 20 feet up in the air, and it's in the middle of the most heavily-guarded part of the prison. It's impossible to get up there without being seen," Quill said.

"And I can't fly. This tank top is covering my wings," Sylia added with a sigh, pulling on the fabric of her shirt.

"I got one plan, and that plan requires a frickin' quarnyx battery, so figure it out! Can I get back to it?" Rocket said impatiently, glancing around at the team for a response. When met with silence, he sighed and continued, "Now, this is important. Once the battery is removed, everything is gonna slam into emergency mode. Once we have it, we gotta move quickly, so you definitely need to get that last."

Suddenly, the lights in the cafeteria flickered and dimmed, and an ear-piercing emergency alarm blared throughout the prison. Rocket, Gamora, Quill, and Sylia turned to see Groot holding out the quarnyx battery with a wide, innocent smile on his face.

"Or we could just get it first and improvise," Rocket muttered, clearly frustrated with the unexpected turn of events.

"I'll get the armband," Gamora said decisively, rising from her seat.

"Leg," Quill said as they split up to accomplish their tasks, leaving Rocket to grumble to himself.

Sylia, feeling helpless without her wings, looked around anxiously. "What do I do?" she asked, her voice tinged with urgency.

"Prisoner, drop the device immediately and retreat to your cell, or we will open fire," a guard's stern voice boomed over the blaring alarms.

Alarms blared loudly, filling the air with urgency and tension as Groot's branches grew and the prison guards surrounded him, their guns trained and ready.

"I am Groot!" Groot roared defiantly, swinging his massive limbs to deflect the incoming gunfire. Bullets ricocheted off his woody exterior as he shielded himself and the others.

Sylia ran for cover under a nearby table, her heart pounding with adrenaline. "Stay down!" Rocket's voice cut through the chaos as he joined her under the table, his eyes sharp and focused. Sylia nodded, biting her lip nervously as she huddled close, trying to avoid the bullets spraying everywhere.

"Go to the watchtower!" Rocket yelled over the din of battle, his voice urgent and commanding.

Sylia nodded again. Peeking out from under the table, she scanned the area for any guards before spotting an opening. With determination, she sprinted towards the watchtower, dodging stray gunfire as she went.

As she approached, Sylia saw Groot creating a makeshift ladder with his extending branches. She reached the base of the ladder at the same time as Quill, who was clutching the prosthetic leg he had acquired earlier. Quill gestured for her to go first, keeping watch for any approaching guards.

Sylia wasted no time. She began to climb Groot's back, using his sturdy branches as handholds and footholds. As she neared the railing of the watchtower, Gamora leaned over and offered her a hand.

"Come on, Sylia!" Gamora urged, her voice encouraging.

With Gamora's help, Sylia hoisted herself over the side of the railing, finally reaching the relative safety of the watchtower platform. She took a deep breath, her heart still racing from the intensity of the escape.

Quill and Drax reached the top of the watchtower platform, accompanied by the rest of the group. The double glass doors slid open automatically, revealing a guard operating the watchtower who immediately raised his hands in surrender, shrinking back in fear.

As the group moved to enter the watchtower, Groot grabbed the guard and tossed him out without hesitation.

"Spare me your foul gaze, woman," Drax said angrily, his gaze fixed on Gamora.

"Why is this one here?" Gamora asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"We promised him he could stay by your side until he kills your boss. I always keep my promises, especially when they're to muscle-bound whack-jobs who will kill me if I don't. Here you go," Quill explained, setting down the prosthetic leg in front of Rocket.

Rocket's eyes widened as he looked at the leg. "Oh, I was just kidding about the leg. I just need these two things," he said with a snicker, pointing to the security armband and the quarnyx battery.

"What?" Quill exclaimed.

"No, I thought it'd be funny. Was it funny? No, wait, what did he look like hopping around?" Rocket asked with a mischievous grin, clearly amused by his own joke.

"I had to transfer him 30,000 units!" Quill yelled. Rocket couldn't help but quietly chuckle to himself at the uproar he had caused.

"How are we going to leave?" Drax demanded, his attention diverted momentarily by a drone firing at one of the side windows.

"Well, he's got a plan. Right? Or is that another thing you made up?" Quill snapped.

"I have a plan! I have a plan!" Rocket reassured them, trying to calm the escalating tension.

"Cease your yammering and release us from this irksome confinement," Drax commanded, his patience wearing thin.

"Yeah, I'll have to agree with the walking thesaurus on that one," Quill quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. However, Drax's expression remained serious as he turned to Quill.

"Do not ever call me a thesaurus," Drax said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"It's just a metaphor, dude," Quill tried to explain to Drax, who looked thoroughly unconvinced.

"His people are completely literal. Metaphors are gonna go over his head," Rocket interjected, trying to clarify the situation.

"Nothing goes over my head. My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it," Drax insisted with utmost seriousness.

"I'm gonna die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy," Gamora muttered under her breath, her frustration evident.

Meanwhile, Rocket was busy working on the ship's controls, trying to get them ready for their imminent departure. The rest of the group watched nervously as a group of guards approached the watchtower, their massive guns aimed directly at them.

"Those are some big guns," Quill commented, his eyes fixed on the menacing weapons.

Suddenly, one of the guns fired, sending a powerful shot that cracked some of the glass windows of the watchtower.

"Rodent, we are ready for your plan," Gamora urged urgently, her eyes darting between Rocket and the approaching threat.

"Hold on!" Rocket shouted back, his focus entirely on the chaotic mess of wires and buttons before him.

Another shot rang out, shattering more of the glass. Rocket's hands moved frantically as he pressed buttons and pulled wires, trying to override the remaining security measures.

"I recognize this animal. We'd roast them over a flame pit as children. Their flesh was quite delicious," Drax remarked with an unsettling smile, recalling memories that only he found nostalgic. Sylia shot him a disapproving glare.

"Not helping!" Rocket shouted, his focus still on the frantic task at hand.

Another shot from the guards outside caused the glass to crack further, a piece finally breaking off and falling away.

"Hang on!" Rocket yelled over the chaos, his fingers flying over the controls.

"He turned off the artificial gravity everywhere but in here," Gamora observed in amazement as she watched the guards and debris outside float weightlessly past them.

Rocket continued to push buttons and manipulate the controls. The watchtower began to disengage from the wall, its boosters roaring to life underneath.

"I told you I had a plan," Rocket declared triumphantly, his relief palpable as their escape plan finally started to come together.

Inside the watchtower, everyone grabbed for stability as the structure lurched away from the tower wall.

"That was a pretty good plan," Quill commented with a grin.

Quill smashed one of the windows, creating a space large enough for them to climb out. Drax wasted no time in prying open one of the nearby storage chests, while Rocket and Sylia hurriedly dug through the contents, retrieving their belongings and clothes. Sylia was particularly eager to change her clothes and reveal her hidden wings.

"Yeah! There it is. Get to my ship. It's the Milano, the orange and blue one in the corner," Quill called out to Rocket, already moving to collect his own gear.

"They crumpled my pants into a ball. That's rude! Yours are neatly folded," Rocket complained loudly as he inspected his own belongings.

"They ripped my skirt! It's expensive lace!" Sylia exclaimed indignantly, clutching the damaged garment in frustration.

"Let's move!" Rocket urged, grabbing Sylia's hand.

"Well, how's he gonna get to us?" Rocket asked anxiously as everyone except Quill settled into the Milano.

"He declined to share that information with me," Gamora replied, her tone tinged with frustration.

"Well, screw this then. I ain't waiting around for some humie with a death wish," Rocket declared, his impatience clear. "What? You got the Orb, right?"

Sylia was still in her prison clothes, which was starting to irritate her. She was nervously biting her nails, listened intently to their exchange.

"Yes," Gamora confirmed, rummaging through the bag Quill had given her. However, her expression quickly darkened as she realized the Orb was missing. She slammed her hand against the arm of her seat in frustration.

"If we don't leave now, we will be blown to bits," Rocket insisted urgently.

"No! We're not leaving without the Orb," Gamora insisted firmly, her determination unwavering.

"What is that?" Sylia suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward in her seat as she spotted something in the distance.

"Behold," Drax announced dramatically, drawing everyone's attention. They watched in surprise and relief as Quill appeared flying towards them.

"This one shows spirit. He shall make a keen ally in the battle against Ronan," Drax commented approvingly, turning to Quill as he approached. "Companion, what were you retrieving?"

Quill handed Drax his walkman, causing Drax's expression to darken. "You're an imbecile," he muttered in disbelief, shaking his head.

After the tense escape from the prison, the Milano sped through space, its engines humming with controlled urgency. Inside the ship, the atmosphere was a mix of relief and anticipation as the group settled into their seats. Sylia, finally free from her prison garb, eagerly changed into her usual attire.

As she emerged from the small changing compartment, the rest of the group noticed her transformation.

"Looking good, Syl," Rocket exclaimed.

"I am Groot!"

"I know. I feel good too. I can finally move my wings," Sylia said, moving her wings around in place.

"So, what's the deal with those wings? Are they real?" Gamora asked, eyeing her wings with keen interest.

Sylia smiled warmly, adjusting the fabric around her wings. "They're actually made of a special membrane that allows me to glide and maneuver easily. They're a part of my connection to nature."

"Nature, huh?" Quill chimed in, looking intrigued. "Are you some kind of guardian or something?"

"In a way," Sylia replied thoughtfully. "I come from a royal lineage that has always had a strong connection to the natural world. My abilities are tied to the balance and harmony of nature."

As the conversation wound down, the group fell into a reflective silence, each contemplating their own journeys and the challenges ahead. For Sylia, sharing her heritage and abilities with her new friends felt like a step towards acceptance and understanding in this vast, unpredictable universe they now navigated together.