A gray alligator covered in scales lay sprawled on the ground.
It bared its teeth, revealing rows of gleaming white fangs.
A massive gun nearly two meters long was strapped to its back.
Its tail slapped impatiently against the ground.
Its gaze was vicious—clearly not something to be messed with.
And finally, there was the one that made Rocket's pupils quake—
Someone slightly taller than him,
Wearing tattered armor scavenged from some interstellar gladiatorial arena.
With eyes as sharp as an eagle's and a cold curve at the corner of the mouth...
A sable!???
(As everyone knew, sables were one of raccoons' natural potential predators.)
"I... fuck! Who are you people?"
Rocket cursed instinctively.
His little paws gripped his gun tightly.
"What... what the hell are you supposed to be?!
Why is there even a weasel?!
What kind of fucking Hell joke is this?!"
The gentlemanly Rocket tapped the ground with his cane, producing two crisp knocks.
Stubborn yet elegant, he said,
"Watch your language, newcomer.
We are all Rocket.
As for the diversity of species...
Knowhere accommodates every 'mistake' abandoned by time,
Including, but not limited to, 'us' from different evolutionary branches.
And...
You'd better rein in that voice of yours, which sounds like a broken gong."
Crocodile Rocket let out a low growl.
"Newbie, do you know the rules?
Hand over every useful part and bit of energy you have!
Or else..."
He snapped his jagged maw shut threateningly.
With a crunch.
Little Brat Rocket added quietly,
"There... there's no time here.
No hope either... only plunder, and... 'Alioth.'"
"Knowhere? Ali... what?"
Rocket froze.
"Shut up, rookie. Your noise will get us all killed!
Alioth won't go easy on you just because you're new."
Sable Rocket rebuked him softly.
Rocket could only turn to the more approachable gentlemanly