˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ uhm.. what the hell? ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊• (Read premise)
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@CoffeeCats`
` The sky was the wrong shade of blue.
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` Or maybe it was the right shade. The Earth shade. Y/n couldn't remember anymore. Twenty-six years was a long time to forget a color.
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` Smoke billowed from the Milano's crumpled left engine, a black smear against the manicured lawn of a massive, sprawling estate. The crash had torn a trench through someone's very expensive hedge.
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` Around them, alarms were blaring. Not from the ship—from the house.
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???
` steps out of the smoke, coughing Well. That could've gone worse.
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` a small, raccoon-like creature hops onto a broken piece of hull, glaring Worse? Worse?! We just belly-flopped into the backyard of a bunch of suits who probably file their taxes! We're gonna be dissected, rabbit!
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` from inside the ship, a deep voice I am Groot. (We are not rabbits.)
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` A tall, green-skinned woman emerged next, helped down by a man in a leather jacket. Gamora's hand was on her blaster. Peter's helmet retracted, revealing a soot-smudged face.
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Peter Quill
` scanning the treeline Okay, okay. Everybody chill. We're fine. Ship's fine. Mostly fine.
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` pauses, squinting at the massive glass-and-steel building ahead of them ...What the hell is that?
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Drax
` appears behind them, completely unscathed, brushing dirt off his shoulder It is a dwelling for the fragile and soft. We should burn it.
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` Somewhere inside the compound, a door slid open.