Guardians of the Zone: Mission to Varnax Part 1: Sue's a furry!

The Chelmekian spaceport was chaos, as usual.

Dock Nine—infamous for smugglers, bounty hunters, and exotic traders—buzzed with voices in a dozen languages. Ships hissed steam and pulsed with energy as they prepared to launch or unload their cargo. Among the clamor, two figures stood out.

She was tall, blonde, and unmistakably Earth-born. Susan Storm—better known as the Invisible Woman—was dressed in an modified version of a guardians of the Galaxy Nova Corp inspired female officer uniform, modified for off-world ops. Or so Yologarch, the teams robotic costume designer told her. Something about the outfit didn't sit well. How many versions was this. Eight. Nine. The skirt came up to high. Her boot heels were to stilleto like and hard to walk in, and the top was like a blue tube top with red lining. Hardly useful for special ops. The buttons ovrr her crotch and breasts literally kept coming undone. She had a sneaking suspicion at who helped 'Yolo' design this garb. Her eyes were alert, calculating, but softened just a little when they turned to the one at her side.

He was much shorter, fur-covered, and anything but subtle. Rocket, former Guardian of the Galaxy, now something much stranger: her partner, in more ways than one. He wore a his own buttoned up blue Guardians jacket with red lining and matching pants and boots. To add to the look he had a blaster slung casually over his shoulder and a cigar clamped in his teeth.

"Remind me again why we agreed to meet the client here?" Susan asked, her tone dry as she surveyed the motley crowd.

Rocket smirked. "Because they’re payin’ triple for hush-hush. And because you like it when I play dangerous. Don’t lie."

A pair of alien enforcers sauntered by.

Susan didn’t flinch. Rocket offered them a two-finger salute.

They stepped into Bay 94, where the a sleek, fast, heavily modified cruiser gleamed under the hangar lights. Standing at the foot of the ramp was their client: a tall, chitin-plated alien with mandibles and a cloak that shimmered like liquid shadow.

“Susan Storm. Rocket Raccoon,” the client buzzed. “You're reputation proceeds you." Done with small talk he asked. "Do you have the artifact?”

Rocket pulled a small cube from his belt pouch. It pulsed with an unnatural glow.

“You got the creds?” he asked.

Before the insectoid could answer, the bay lights flashed red.

“Security lockdown,” Susan muttered, already reaching for her ****-field activator. “Looks like someone ratted us out.”

Rocket grinned and drew his blaster. “Aw, and here I was thinkin’ this job was gonna be boring.”

The room began filling with robotic guards.

With a shared look—part thrill, part exasperated affection—they sprang into action. The blaster fire lit the bay with streaks of energy. Rocket cackled, taking cover and returning fire with precision. Susan was a graceful storm, raising shields, firing rounds, flanking guards, bending light to their favor.

That is until the button covering her chest popped, exposing her white work bra. She figgited to put it in place between holding up fields to stop blaster fire and returning fire herself. Then the button over her ass gave out exposing her panties. She tried invisibility but a spray of liquid stopped her attempt. So she held the pieces with her field, best she could, boobs bouncing and ass bouncing in view as she fought. Rocket laughed and got an eye full. So did many onlookers. But the fight went on.

They fought like lovers who had bled together and laughed in the aftermath. No misfire, no panic—just rhythm, trust, and flirtatious banter between explosions.

By the time the lockdown was lifted, their client had vanished, but the cube was still in Rocket’s possession, and Susan was still at his side.

They shared a breathless moment behind the ship's open ramp.

"Same time next week?" Rocket asked.

Susan laughed. "Only if you cook dinner this time."

He winked. "Deal

Sometime later, the Negative Zone Guardians ship, The Starlight Jackal soared through the distorted skies of the Negative Zone, a surreal expanse of glowing energies, inverted gravity pockets, and alien physics. Inside the ship, the atmosphere was light with just enough tension to keep it interesting.

Rocket stomped onto the bridge, cube in one paw and cigar in his teeth. “Yolo, scan this thing again. I wanna know who was so **** they hired a walking bug to get this thing.”

Yologarch, affectionately known as “Yolo,” rolled forward on hoverpads, his cylindrical body a slick chrome update of the old HERBIE model, with little mental remanants of Doctor Doom, Loki, Ultron and Red Skull lingering in him (long story). His single eye glowed blue with activity as his manipulator arms extended to retrieve the artifact.

“Analyzing now,” Yolo chirped. “The signal signature embedded in this artifact is of Negative Zone origin. Cross-referencing known sectors… probability high it’s linked to House Varnax. Famed for instability, wealth, and misplaced ambition.”

Susan folded her arms. “House Varnax. Of course. If they’re behind this, we’re in deeper than we thought.”

Groot gave a low rumble from his corner seat.

“I am Groot.”

Rocket nodded. “He says that checks out. And he also says someone left a half-eaten burrito on the weapons console.”

Susan sighed pointed to Rocket, her eyes flicking from Rocket to the artifact and back. “Let’s get out of this region. Punch it to hyperspace. We need answers before we hand this thing off to anyone.”

Rocket cracked his knuckles. “You got it, Barbie...," he added, "You heard the captain boys!"

As Yolo initiated the jump, the stars outside smeared into vibrant blue streams, and the Jackal groaned as it entered hyperspace.

With the ship safely in hyperspace, the hum of the engines was a soft background purr as the crew settled into an hours downtime.

Susan and Rocket lingered near the rear galley—just long enough to for Rocket to look Sue over as she punched up logistics on her holo-computer.

“Bathroom’s free,” Rocket said, not even trying to hide his smirk.

Susan grinned, tugging him by the front of his shirt. “Then let’s not waste space-time.” She dragged him by his shirt. "You have a one track mind Rocket...but I like it." The two slipped away down the corridor, disappearing into the ship's private bathroom—a luxurious retrofit with alien alloys, courtesy of one of Rocket’s more generous heists.

It was once three bathrooms. A "women's, a men's and a unisex bathroom. Rocket and Groot had torn the walls down. The men's and women's stalls remained. The sinks, and the female shower. The unisex bathroom had been gutted. Now a makeshift gym seperated the "men's" and "women's" bathroom areas. Though the entire space was open. The only woman and man on the ship that used a bathroom were Sue and Rocket, in fact. The ancient Tyannan lettering once on the doors of this former warship were pulled out. Only the sign on the unisex bathroom door remained. But the words for "uni" were removed.

Sex-Bathroom. Was what it now read. And how it was now used.

The door to the men's shower, now a retrofitted steamer sealed with a soft hiss. Steam quickly fogged the mirror as the lights dimmed to a moody glow. In the privacy of the enclosed space, they took full advantage of their stolen time. There were kisses, half-whispered jokes, and the kind of closeness that came from lovers who had faced **** and still chose laughter.

But Rocket was not content with kisses. He made Susan turn from him. There was a stepping stool, it's presence here had a purpose. "Bend over!" Rocket asked Susan Storm, wore still wore her uniform as the room steamed up. Sue put up a little resistance, so Rocket spoke the words that would alter the nanobyte infused uniform Yolo had created, with a little programmig assistance from Rocket. "Four Freedoms Plaza!" He shouted.

Susan felt the skirt tighten so much she was **** to bend over. "What the fuck?" She knew it. These outfits were Rockets doing. "What did you have Yolo do you little shit?" She couldn't stop bending. Her head turned to Rocket. She felt her ass coming free as the skirt pulled up over her white ass on its own.

The anthropomorphic Racoon from Half-World laughed. "PIER FOUR!" He spoke the next commands a mocking reference once again to the Fantastic Four.

This time, the panties Susan had on literally were absorbed into her skirt. "You gotta be shitting me?" Sue huffed, bent at the waist, her ass exposed and now her thick, wet and swollen pussy mounds. Any protest was cut off when Rocket stuffed a black furred paw right past her engorged folds. He didn't even hesitate to stick his arm up to the elbow all the way inside her. "Unnnnnnggggh," Susan moaned. No body but Rocket knew how horny fighting made Susan. She braced her hands against the wall and felt Rocket pull his arm put and stuff it back in. Then she gasped when his lips kissed her asshole. The little shot began tongue fucking her asshole with his little black tongue. It was too much for her to handle, and the Invisible Woman came hard, soaking the furred arm stuffed in her cunt. "Ohhhhhhh," she cooed.

Rocket pulled out and Sue could hear his own jumpsuit begin to unzip. Standing on the step stool, he taunted her. "Is the Rocket clear for re-entry," the short anti-hero taunted. He teased her pussy with his big fat twisty pink cock. "Say it Barbie!"

Pussy engorged, and drunk with adrenaline from figjting and getting arm fucked, Sue wanted nothing more. She turned back to him. Baring her teeth in a lustful rage she begged, "Shove your cock in me!"

Rocket Racoon did as commanded. He slid his prick inside Susan Storm.

Outside, Yolo’s voice echoed faintly from the bridge over the loud speaker. “New signal traced. Priority tag: red. Possible Varnax proxy located in asteroid cluster 7-Beta.”

They didn’t answer immediately.

Inside the bathroom, time slowed. The hyperspace stream beyond the frosted window painted their shadows in blue. A small figure pumping something large into a bent over figure.

"Did you get that Captain?" Yolo again called over the comm. He could see from heat signatures they were in the bathroom, so he hit the button to "listen" to the room.

The faint sounds grew from the bathroom over the speaker. "Oohhh God Rocket....fuck me!" His captain could be heard over the crackling radio. Yolo undressed the comm button.

When they emerged on the deck, Susan’s hair was damp and her cheeks flushed.

Rocket’s fur was wet and ruffled, cigar once again between his teeth. Looking like he'd won the lottery and took a five hour nap.

They greeted Yolo and Groot.

Yolo nodded. "It is wonderful that you two organic beings find time to conduct such elaborate relaxation exercises." He made a robotic smile on his computer face. "I enjoy charting your mating."

"No...." Susan said instantly. "Gross....and what do we got," she asked. Yolo explained the issue.

It was a contigent from the Varnax Nebula. Out here. This close. It wasn't a coincidence.

As the Starlight Jackal coasted out of hyperspace, its crew moved into preparation mode. Each member of the Guardians of the Negative Zone donned their specialized gear for battle.

Rocket slipped into a reinforced black exo-suit tailored to his smaller frame, bristling with hidden compartments for grenades, EMP rounds, and slicing tools. Across the back, his nickname “Cap’n Fuzzy” was stitched in crimson thread.

Susan wore a second-skin navy-blue stealth suit that shimmered faintly with quantum shielding. A new emblem had replaced her old “4”—a stylized ouroboros wrapped around a collapsing star. Her boots whispered rather than stomped.

Groot’s bark-like armor was interlaced with glowing vines that pulsed as he moved. He carried an extendable shield on his back that could be deployed to protect the team.

Yolo’s chassis displayed holographic glyphs with a subtle AI shimmer. His arms extended into energy blades and hacking tools when required.

They had arrived at a hollowed-out moon, reportedly a relay hub for House Varnax transmissions. It wasn't empty. The ship was hailed but Susan refused response. "They want the cube!" She added.

As they descended from the Jackal, Susan looked at Rocket. “You ready?”

He chomped his cigar. “For you, Barbie? Always.”

The surface of the moon was dry, pockmarked, and eerily quiet. Crystals embedded in the rocks glowed with low pulses of alien light. The crew advanced toward a towering monolith that housed the signal repeater.

Rocket adjusted his scope. “Barbie, I got movement—six figures. Not friendly.”

“Then let’s make them regret it,” Susan replied, activating her **** field.

Out of the shadows came Varnax mercenaries—clad in segmented armor and wielding plasma spears and grav-whips. One of them lunged at Rocket, only to be met with a perfectly timed shot to the chest.

Groot threw out his arms, expanding into a shield wall while vines lashed at the attackers.

Yolo zipped through the air, slicing into armor and redirecting enemy shots.

Susan flipped into the air, her **** fields creating platforms mid-jump. She landed in the center of the fray, blasting one merc with a concussive pulse. Another came at her from behind—but Rocket pounced from nowhere, teeth bared.

“No one sneaks up on my Barbie!” he shouted.

“Don’t call me that during combat!” Susan laughed as she threw up a wall of **** to deflect a grenade.

The fight was chaotic, beautiful—like a dance of light, metal, and fury. Rocket moved with primal agility, and Susan covered him with precise control.

When the last mercenary fell, the crew stood panting amid the wreckage.

Yolo floated over the smoldering repeater. “Transmissions scrubbed. We’ve got ten minutes before Varnax sends reinforcements.”

Rocket walked up to Susan, dusted with ash, his fur singed. “You alright, doll?”

“I’m good,” she replied. “You’re still calling me Barbie, huh?”

Rocket smirked. “You wear space-op tights better than any of those old Earth dolls.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned in to kiss his singed temple. “Let’s get out of here." She turned and crushed the repeater with a **** vice.

“To the Jackal!” Rocket whooped.

And together, the Guardians of the Negative Zone vanished into the shadows of the moon, leaving behind a field of wreckage—and a message.

They weren’t just lovers or partners. They were a team. A formidable one. Varnax was coming. Might as well know who they’re coming for.