EVERYBODY WAS SET ON ESCAPING. The bounty on Layla Quill didn't matter to Rocket anymore after he calculated the potential profits from selling the orb. With a determined glint in his eye, Rocket outlined his plan to the group, his voice brimming with confidence and purpose.
"If we're gonna get out, we're gonna need to get into that watchtower, and to do that I'm gonna need a few things," Rocket instructed, striding alongside the others with purpose, his tray of food held firmly in hand. Layla mirrored his movements, her own tray of food untouched and forgotten.
"The guards wear security bands to control their ins and outs. I need one," Rocket demanded, his gaze locking onto Gamora with expectation.
"Leave it to me," Gamora stated confidently, her tone conveying a silent assurance that she would handle the task without fail.
"That dude, there. I need his prosthetic leg," Rocket declared, prompting Owen and Layla to exchange incredulous glances. Peter, ever the voice of reason, voiced his uncertainty.
"His leg?" Peter questioned, his brows furrowing in confusion.
"Yeah. God knows I don't need the rest of him, look at him, he's useless," Rocket boldly stated, his tone laced with contempt as he gestured towards their unwitting target.
"All right..." Peter acquiesced, his tone reflecting a mixture of skepticism and resignation.
"And finally, on the wall back there is a back panel. Blinky yellow light, do you see it?" Rocket directed his gaze towards Peter, awaiting confirmation.
"Yeah," Peter affirmed, taking a seat at the table. Layla joined him, positioning herself between her father and Owen. Resting her elbow on the table, she propped her chin up with her hand, her attention drifting away from the adults' conversation.
As Layla zoned out, Owen initiated a conversation, drawing her back into the present moment. "How old are you anyways, roomie?" he inquired, prompting Layla to respond with a soft sigh.
"Thirteen, you?" she replied, her tone tinged with resignation. She didn't even bother to correct Owen's use of the nickname "roomie," a moniker she found irritating but ultimately inconsequential.
"Fourteen...how did you even end up here?" Owen pressed, his curiosity evident in his tone. Layla's expression darkened slightly as she recounted her predicament.
"My dad, he stole from his asshole adopted dad, and now I have to pay for it," Layla explained bitterly, her frustration palpable. Peter interjected, reprimanding Layla for her choice of language.
"Language," he chided, his gaze fixed firmly on his daughter. Layla's brows furrowed in confusion as she protested her innocence.
"What— I didn't even say anything," Layla retorted, her frustration evident in her tone.
"You said, asshole," Peter countered, prompting Layla to vehemently deny the accusation.
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yes, you did, you said asshole," Owen chimed in, eager to exacerbate the playful banter between father and daughter. Layla shot him a withering glare, unamused by his attempts to stir up trouble.
Before Layla could engage in further banter, the prison alarm sounded, jolting the group into action. "I guess we're gonna have to wing it and improvise!" Rocket declared, his tone tinged with urgency.
"I'll get the armband," Gamora stated firmly, her determination clear in her voice.
"Leg," Peter affirmed, his resolve unwavering as he prepared to execute their plan.
YOU ARE READING
𝘋𝘖𝘎 𝘋𝘈𝘠𝘚 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙 ❥ Peter Quill daughter ✓
Fanfiction-"the dog days are over" "it's over, Layla Quill." {Peter Quill x daughter!oc} {oc x oc} ALL THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO MARVEL I ONLY OWN LAYLA AND OWEN AND THEIR STORY!!
