5/11 Instance: Eating, for Four

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Butt Monkey
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5/11 Instance: Eating, for Four

Post by JackSkulls » Tue May 12, 2015 12:21 am

<Clint> Clint had finished all of his classes for the day and gone out to where he usually set up his shooting range for the Archery Club. Not many people, or really any at all, had shown up to join him yet so he was just going to practice with some of the arrows Broo had cooked up for him. "Little guy is a frikken genius." He took a shot at a target and as soon as it connected with the target it froze solid.

<Rocket> "Whoa, nice shootin' Tex." Rocket said as he made his way to where he heard was the Archery Club supposed to be. He had decided that he had enough lounging around and needed to get more into the other fun activities around the school. And when he heard there was an archery club, he jumped at the chance to try out a new toy he was thinking about since watching Naked and Afraid's attempt to make a bow and arrow. Humies were weird.

<Clint> Clint hadn't noticed Rocket walking his way and almost before he realized it had his bow drawn, arrow knocked and aimed at the what looked like a raccoon coming his way. "Please tell me I'm not hallucinating and you just talked.... cuz that bug kid promised me there would be no side effects on me from using these arrows."

<Rocket> "Bud, I wouldn't trust anything a brood says, even if it's some kind of hybrid mutant brood thing." Rocket replied, and swung around his own invention, which started out looking like a very heavy piece of metal bits together, but when he cocked it, the crossbow snapped out to view. “I don't need to aim with this, just gotta keep the trigger down and it'll start shootin' ten bolts from your foot to your face."

<Clint> Clint just stared. "Alright... I'm going to Carol and seeing if SHIELD insurance covers an MRI after you show me how that thing works."

<Rocket> "Love to," Rocket grinned, stepping closer to the student. "Down here, Stretch." He said as he held the autocrosbow to the side, showing it off. "Recoil is a bit weird, I only made it this morning, but what can a guy do with primitive tools. As you can see, auto fire setting, ammo can be either bolts in cartridges at the back, or what I prefer, the boltprinter over here. Fifty bolts stored as concentrated resin ready to fill the cartridge after each reload."

<Clint> "Jesus... what's with all the damn super geniuses around this place." Clint just stared at the furry person's creation. "Sorry not trying to be rude or anything. Just damn and here I thought my powers abilities whatever the shit is was cool."

<Rocket> "Yeah, sorry to disappoint ya on that idea, but I ain't from around here, so your thing whatever it is, I'm sure it's really special here on earth." Rocket said, hoisting his crossbow and aiming at the frozen target. "I wonder how fast I can obliterate it." he added right before pressing the trigger on his weapon.

<Clint> Clint winced a little. "Please don't obliterate my targets.... I have to pay for those." A small grin slipped past his face as he took in the carnage that the auto-crossbow wrought. "Though.... that was really fucking bad ass."

<Rocket> "Hey, I got a knack for making bad ass stuff. You should see my hadron enforcer. Moons, baby, whole moons." Rocket said with a smug look on his face.

<Clint> "I don't know if I should walk away from you now or offer you a beer. You're a weird little fellow." Clint just stared at him for a minute "Well if you don't mind low tech and want to join the archery club feel free to grab a bow and test your aim against the captain." It was Clint's turn to wear the smug grin this time.

<Rocket> "Captain? The chick who runs this place? She's in the club as well?" Rocket asked, pressing a switch and pulling a part and the whole crossbow collapsed back into its compact version. "You, uh, you got anything about my size? Never actually had the opportunity to go tribal before." Rocket asked as he looked at the bows.

<Clint> "Uhmm no me, I'm the archery club captain, president, whatever it's called." Clint rummaged through his gear and found the smallest bow he had and handed it over.

<Rocket> "You're kidding, that thing's as big as me." Rocket said as he took the bow, adding in mumble, "That's what she said."

<Rocket> "So any special tricks to this, or is it just the whole point and shoot that most projectile weapons got?"

<Clint> "I could teach you special tricks for the next three weeks, but for the most part it's just aim and fire. Not much wind today so you shouldn't have to compensate."

<Rocket> "Well let's see how I can do this then." Rocket said taking an arrow, holding it up to nock it, aiming and letting it fire. It didn't go as one would see in the movies. "Wow, that was kind of pathetic. Lemme try again."

<Clint> "Try pulling it all the way back this time." Clint gave him a demonstration with a normal arrow, hitting the bulls eye.

<Rocket> "Uh-huh." Rocket pulled back as far as he could, and the second arrow flew further. "Better. I think."

<Clint> "Yeah... but that disk thing with all the colors is what you're trying to hit." Clint decided to get a little cocky and show off. He drew three arrows this time fired all and hit the target exactly where he wanted. "Like that easy as pie." He didn't want to discourage his only attendee though so he did go and grab the raccoon man a beer from his cooler. "Here consolation prize."

<Rocket> "Ah, finally, something to heighten the senses." Rocket replied grabbing the beer and opening it for a drink. "You know what sounds like a great idea? Drunk shooting." he said, nocking another arrow and firing at the target. "Oh, hey, almost got it this time. Think I killed a plant though. Glad Groot isn't here to see that."

<Clint> "Yeah I don't think the teachers would be happy with drunk shooting. And my wife would kill me if I got hurt. But tipsy shooting, that is okay, we can still point it down range then!" Clint laughed a little.

<Rocket> "Wow, you're almost as big a buzz kill than some of my team mates." Rocket said, trying his fourth arrow. "Wow, look at the range on that one. Not even where I aimed it. Just went off to find better pastures."

<Clint> "And that's why the school isn't down range of us....." Clint started to contemplate making a backdrop.

<Rocket> "How many arrows we got to shoot?" Rocket asked while cradling his beer and drinking it.

<Clint> "Only as many as you want. This is for fun, well for the most part. Since I don't think a school hunting trip would be allowed."

<Rocket> "I dunno, I mean we can always hope for some city folk in the woods, hur hur hur, with a purdy mouth, hur hur hur." Rocket joked while aiming the next arrow and letting it go. It hit the target, "Nailed it."

<Clint> "Someone has watched the deliverance way too many times. But if any of the mutant hating shit heads show up using them as target practice would be fun."

<Rocket> "You know, you mutants really should get your shit together and get up into space. Sure there's hate and all, but no hate for people who just looks different." Rocket said taking a drink.

<Clint> "Whatever you say space raccoon." Clint just rolled his eyes. "Okay see if you can hit that farthest target." He fired a shot into it to show him which one he was talking about.

<Rocket> Rocket's eyes went into squints as he ground his teeth and aimed at the target. "Hey, humie, don't call me a raccoon." he said before shooting his arrow, hitting the target, albeit not as well as Clint.

<Clint> "Sorry you just look exactly like one. My pet would probably think you're a long lost cousin or something. And you can call me Clint, cuz humie isn't my name."

<Rocket> "Rocket's the name. Did I introduce myself? I can't remember. Don't think so. But yeah, Rocket, from spaaaace." He said, drinking some more.

<Natasha> Having far too much time on her hands due to her pregnancy resting, Natasha had put together a lunch for her and Clint. She smiled as she carried the basket out to where Clint would be practicing.... she hoped. She shifted hands with the basket and kept walking, the inhibitor charm on her wrist jingling against the basket.

<Rocket> Rocket's ears flicked and he turned to look at the sound of someone coming. "You expecting more people in your club, Clint?" He asked, spotting the woman heading their way.

<@Clint> Clint wasn't paying much attention, he was focused on hitting the target multiple times with different trick arrows. "Real ones or figments of my imagination?"

<Rocket> "She looks real to me." Rocket added.

<Natasha> Tasha set the basket down so she could wave at her husband in the distance. Her husband and... what was that with him? Maybe he'd come help her with the basket and she could ask.

<@Clint> Clint turned around to see his wife. "Oh that's Natasha, my wife." Clint sat his bow down and grabbed another beer as he walked over to meet her.

<Rocket> "...wife... what a shame." Rocket mumbled to himself, as he turned to nock and shoot another arrow.

<Natasha> Tasha waited until Clint was close enough, then wrapped her arms around him for a good hug. "Hey! I brought lunch."

<@Clint> "Yup off limits fuzzy." Clint grinned as he walked to his wife and gave her a kiss. "Hope you brought enough for three. It's a miracle I actually have another person out here."

<Natasha> "Well I did bring enough for three," she grinned, her hand resting on her stomach. "But I think we have enough for four. I packed extra. Could you get the basket? It's heavy."

<@Clint> "Awesome and yeah definitely hun." Clint took the basket with ease. "You shouldn't be carrying something this heavy." He frowned a little.

<Natasha> "Well, see, now I'm not!" She took his free arm to walk with him.

<Rocket> Rocket paused before shooting another arrow, sniffing the air and looking back at the two big gums, "I smell food." he told them.

<@Clint> "Hey guess I'm not having a stroke then!" Clint gave Rocket a cheesy grin.

<Natasha> Taken aback by the talking, Tasha slowed her pace, looking up at Clint questioningly.

<@Clint> "Rocket, this is Natasha. Natasha this is Rocket. He's new here? You're new here right?" Clint whispered to Natasha. "He thinks he's from space."

<Rocket> "I'm standing right here, I can hear you." Rocket said, a little offended. "Hi, I'm Rocket, and I am from space. Your husband's just being an idiot."

<Natasha> "I.... well.... um..." She ran her fingers through her red hair, stammering a bit. "How?" she looked between the two of them. "I'm so confused. How are you from space?"

<@Clint> "I still think he's the crazy one, but we're drinking and shooting and I'm not going to complain about the company."

<Rocket> "Well the fact that I dropped down in my ship might be one of the reasons why I'm from space." Rocket pointed out before shooting another arrow. "Hey look, almost got the bulls eye there."

<Natasha> "You have a ship?! Wooooah," Tasha reached into the basket and pulled out the bright red and white gingham blanket, looking for a good spot to lay it out.

<@Clint> "Yeah.... the blue ring isn't a bulls eye." Clint picked up his bow and gave him an example of a bulls eye. Mostly he was just showing off in front of his wife.

<Rocket> "Showoff." Rocket said. "And yes, an actual real life space ship, from outer space." he had to repeat himself, then just gave up and added the rest of the details, just to see how much they'd think him nuts. "I also live in a giant head of a celestial, floating in space, in another part of the galaxy. Also, my best friend is a giant tree who only says three words."

<Natasha> Tasha was a bit stunned, standing there with her picnic blanket. Had she passed out and was having a weird dream?

<@Clint> "How much pot have you smoked.......?" Clint just stared at him.

<Rocket> "Fun fact, your marijuana isn't actually an earth plant, it's actually from the planet Manjana, where it got its name from. Everyone living there is a bunch of hippies. Dirty, filthy hippies. But the best pot you can get, nothing like the weak stuff you guys grow here on your planet."

<@Clint> "Yeah.... so food?" Clint helped Natasha set up the spread.

<Natasha> Shaking herself back to attention, Tasha sat down gracefully on the blanket once it was spread out. "I made all of this myself, so I hope you like it. We have some fried chicken, potato salad, biscuits, brownies, cookies, fruit salad, salad... cheese and crackers... some hard boiled eggs... and pickles." She went straight for the pickles. Those two could fend for themselves.

<@Clint> "Honey you really shouldn't over do it like this." Clint took another drink of his beer and sat down next to her.

<Rocket> Rocket dropped what he was doing and went straight for the blanket to join in. "Over do it? I'd say she did it perfectly right."

<Natasha> "I'm not overdoing it," she assured him, taking a bite of her pickle spear. "See? Rocket agrees with me!" She smiled at the new friend.

<Rocket> Rocket just gave a thumbs up as he tackled a chicken leg.

<@Clint> Clint just sighed. "No it's great, but she shouldn't work so hard.... So what do you want besides pickles?" He started to make a plate for her.

<Natasha> "More pickles," she laughed at him, taking another bite.

<Rocket> "Geeze, dude, just 'cause she's a bit plump doesn't mean you gotta be thinking she can't do the job. Babe, if you want to leave him and hook up with me, I can show you the stars. Like literally." Rocket said stuffing his little fuzzy face some more.

<@Clint> "So next lesson of archery club. Dig your own grave."

<Natasha> Tasha choked on her bite of pickle, coughing and reaching for a bottle of water. After a drink... she threw the pickle at Rocket's head. "Did you just call me fat?! I am not fat!"

<Rocket> "I didn't call you fat! Full bodied, yes, and I was trying to pick you up, yes, but not fat!" He yelled back, swinging the chicken leg bone.

<Natasha> Tasha threw another pickle at him. "I'm pregnant you idiot! Not fat!" She could feel the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She wasn't fat right?! She looked to Clint for confirmation.

<Rocket> "Well that makes things different!" Rocket yelled back.

<@Clint> Clint managed to flick a bean into Rocket's nose. "No, bad, no picking up people's wives. And she's not fat, she's beautiful." He gave his wife a reassuring smile.

<Rocket> "Stop throwing food at me! And I never said she wasn't beautiful!" Rocket yelled some more.

<Natasha> Sniffling, Tasha nodded. "I'm still beautiful..."

<@Clint> "Very." Clint kissed her cheek. "Stop hitting on my wife."

<Rocket> "Gah, what is it with you humies and being thin?! This, this is why your planet sucks, everything you see on your tv and internet is all about looking so thin and supposedly sexy. I got news for you two," Rocket pointed the chicken bone at the sky, "Up there, it doesn't mean one little bit how you look like."

<Natasha> Blinking a little, Tasha took a bite of another pickle. "Well... it matters here?"

<Rocket> Rocket pulled at his head fur. "Why? Why does it matter? Because some magazine decades ago made it official? I say screw them. Doesn't matter what shape or condition you're in, if you're feeling sexy then you are sexy. Now gimme another chicken leg before I say something mean about the way your countries treat their poor."

<@Clint> "So how bout them Pirates....?" Clint just rolled his eyes. How had this gone from a nice ordinary day to a fucking crazy one.

<Rocket> "You know what your chicken reminds me of?" Rocket added, "And this connects to the whole pirates discussion, Che'rekhan pirates. Avian type aliens, got a thing for taking what isn't theirs and blowing up ships in the wake. Bunch of jerks."

<Natasha> "That's... fascinating. You should write a book about all this."

<Clint> Clint let out a little chuckle thinking about how amusing it would be to see him trying to get that published as non-fiction.

<Rocket> Rocket's wrist watch beeped. He pressed a button on it and a voice said "I am Groot." Rocket frowned. "What do you mean breaking in? I set the alarm on my ship, and fixed the cloaking on it." The voice from the watch replied with "I am Groot.". Rocket rolled his eyes, "Fine, lemme check." Rocket pulled out a cellphone looking device from a pocket and turned it on. A hologram image of his ship popped up, along with of pigeons all sitting on it. "Urgh, pigeons, nasty things. Let's see how they like a little electrical shock go through them." Rocket pressed a button and pigeons flapped about madly and flew off. Rocket laughed madly, "Bwahahahaha, stupid birds."

<Clint> "Well you seem uh... busy? Maybe we should give you some time to deal with your pigeon problem?"

<Natasha> Smiling, Tasha held out her hand to Clint. "Let's get a nap?"

<Rocket> "Where you two off to? What about all this food?"

<Clint> "Sorry pal, Better prospects. Enjoy the meal? I'll be back later to clean up don't worry about it."

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