Chapter 1360

The process of waiting for others to write is always a bit boring. Rocket Raccoon sitting on the windowsill has begun to observe what those furry plants inserted in the vase next to the windowsill are.

It is a bit retro here, but not retro enough. Obviously, the owner of the room did not deliberately arrange it into a Victorian style. Those candlesticks that look gorgeous to the point of being uncomfortable are just placed on the shelf like collections, and are not really inserted with candles to light up.

Just when Rocket Raccoon began to pass the boring time by guessing the story of each collection, Schiller dipped the ink again. This action led Rocket Raccoon's gaze to the content being written on the notebook.

Rocket Raccoon tilted his head, feeling a bit puzzled. His language library contains countless interstellar civilization languages, and even most languages of civilizations that are slightly remote like Earth.

After learning the truth of his birth, he thought, this might be a means for the Kree Empire or the Skrull Empire to facilitate him to pass the situation of the Half-World Asylum.

You must know enough languages to communicate with enough people, but unfortunately, language alone is not enough.

When this pessimistic emotion rose, Rocket Raccoon had to try his best to decipher the words Schiller was writing to distract his attention.

He has such ability. Essentially, he is a precise machine. Thanks to the bickering of the other two great empires about the Shi'ar Empire, this machine is surprisingly easy to use.

Soon, Rocket Raccoon read out the rules in those words. Its essence is Latin, but it uses the word order of another language, so it reads a bit fragmented, as if deliberately hindering the reader.

Why is this again? Rocket Raccoon couldn't deduce Schiller's purpose for doing so. He both wanted the reader of this book to build a deeper scene, but also seemed to deliberately set obstacles, not letting him read it easily.

Humans are really complex creatures. Rocket Raccoon lowered his head a bit more. When he read the content of that series of words, he suddenly realized.

"So, you are writing your complex plan? To be honest, that's really crazy... But why do you want to write it in the first-person perspective of the victim? I mean, will this make your thinking more fluent?"

"No, just like you said, this is actually a letter, to let the person who receives it understand."

Rocket Raccoon felt even more confused until he saw the small animal that could talk mentioned in the last few sentences Schiller wrote.

He opened his eyes wide, his dark eyes rolled around, reflecting the light of the desk lamp, and then sighed: "Is this the reason you brought me here? You can write this letter while letting me understand what you want me to do?... You are really good at saving effort."

After writing a paragraph, Schiller put down the pen, took a towel from the side of the bookshelf, wiped the ink on his hands, smiled and said: "So now, sir, you can set off to defend your image rights."

"I wish I really had." Not without irony.

"If I had something to take pictures, I would definitely take pictures of your stunned look now, and then sell it to the newspaper. It would definitely make the headline of tomorrow's funny section." Rocket Raccoon sat on the tombstone, rolled his eyes and said.

"You you you you you... I I... I..."

Star-Lord Quill pointed at Rocket Raccoon for a while, and then pointed at himself. His footsteps were as diligent as if he were dancing a tap dance on the spot.

Suddenly he reacted, slapped his forehead and said: "Peter, Peter, why haven't you adapted yet? What kind of strange races are there in the universe? What is a talking raccoon?"

"I've seen you." Rocket Raccoon's sentence made Quill calm down, and before he started thinking, Rocket Raccoon said: "You are a member of the Shi'ar Empire's guard, just participated in the wedding of the Asgardian King of Gods. Coincidentally, I just came back from there."

Quill looked Rocket Raccoon up and down, put his hands on his hips and looked at him and said: "It's normal for me to participate in the King of Gods' wedding, but what's going on with you? What status did you participate in? Someone's little pet?"

Quill stretched out two hands, two fingers made a gesture of quotation marks, but strangely, Rocket Raccoon didn't hear much contempt from his tone, but rather like a joke to bring each other closer. Sure enough, he saw the young man in front of him smile bitterly and shake his head and say:

"Well, if you say you are a little pet, then maybe I am a knife, not very sharp, didn't come in handy, so naturally no one paid attention."

After saying that, Quill lowered his head to look at the grave in front of him, squatted down, stretched out a hand to wipe the dusty epitaph clean, and looked at the photo on the grave with a deep gaze.

Rocket Raccoon jumped down, stood beside Quill, and looked at the name on the grave—"Meredith".

"She is my mother, obviously."

"How did she die?"

"Very bizarre."

"Is it more bizarre than a talking raccoon?"

Quill revealed a helpless smile, reached out and rubbed Rocket Raccoon's head hard, and then said: "Of course not, she was killed by a group of aliens, died of the ion gun, a technological weapon that humans cannot understand. Because the wound was too weird, she could only be buried here."

"Did you avenge her?"

"Perhaps."

Quill's gaze always contained a kind of sadness, but his appearance didn't look like such a depressed person, Rocket Raccoon thought. I'm afraid there is a deeper dark story about his mother.

"Everything's story started with a spaceship that crashed in Colorado, like the beginning of an old-fashioned science fiction story. An alien who was seriously injured and dying crawled out of there, and an Earth woman saved him.

They lived happily together. Not long after, the woman was pregnant, but one day, because of the responsibility on his shoulders, the husband returned to his hometown, leaving only his pregnant wife living alone in Englewood.

On the day the child was born, the woman suddenly had a crazy idea. This idea controlled her soul. Something called out to her. She knew she had to respond.

So, the woman who had just finished giving birth rushed out of the door like crazy, holding the child. She wanted him to see the sky, or the stars hidden behind the sky. It was they who called out to her.

And not surprisingly, she saw the originally scattered stars woven into a straight line. She let out a crazy cry like never before, almost fainting. Perhaps the mother's instinct was telling her that the stars would take her child away.

All this was told to me by my mother. She repeated this story to me countless times, especially her sadness and lack of control.

Perhaps because of the alien blood in me, I did things that humans couldn't do. On the first day I was born, I had clear vision and clear memory.

And what I didn't tell my mother was that on that day, in her crying, I saw the stars open their arms to me.

Behind the stars behind the stars, in the deeper depths, I saw something incomparably terrifying and incomparably great, reaching out to me."

"What did he see?" Stark in front of the circular Zen window moved his gaze away from the text in the notebook and asked.

But Strange was unusually silent. This silence without thinking is rare in this increasingly mature mage, as if some rules blocked him, making him have to be silent.

Perhaps a few seconds passed, or perhaps a few dozen minutes passed, before Strange said in a strange voice that sounded like a violin suddenly rising in pitch: "Tony, does the powerful power of the Iron Demon God give you the courage and confidence to be fearless?"

"Obviously."

"What if there is something that cannot be measured by power?"

"Are you worried that I will be afraid?"

"Obviously."

"What is that?"

"Stars."

"I will use some more neutral words when describing stars, rather than exhausting all the flowery good words like many poets praising the sun." Schiller's voice echoed in the room, as if talking to someone.

"The sun belongs to humans. We never hesitate to praise our own things, but the stars are not. He never belongs to us, just hanging in the air, quietly looking down at us, examining us."

"When humans step toward the stars, waiting for us, besides the lively interstellar society, perhaps there are more great and more terrifying things in the depths."

When Schiller wiped the ink on his hands and picked up the pen again, the handwriting with slightly unfamiliar fancy script appeared on the paper, and the steady narrative tone on the notebook finally began to have some fluctuations.

"On the second day of my return to Earth, I received a strange letter. I haven't received a letter for many years, but I still opened the letter and read the content inside."

"Not surprisingly, it was a letter from my good friend Yin Yin Lisha. She works for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, and after my mother passed away, she can be called the most important woman in my life."

"But the relationship between the two of us is not love, but out of love for the same cause. Perhaps it sounds a bit crazy, a madman like me who is full of nonsense has also worked as a mechanic at the NASA aviation base. This job was still given by Yin Yin Lisha."

"In the first hour of my return to Earth, I called her. Hearing that she was still so full of energy, I was relieved, but the content of her letter made me a bit uneasy."

"She mentioned that in the decades since my mother was killed, the number of times unidentified flying objects have been witnessed in the southwest and even the entire United States has been increasing, and the East has reported similar phenomena. This is not good news."

"But a thought popped into my head abruptly—can't they wait? Because they can't wait, they have to send a more certain, louder call?"

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"So, what do you plan to do?" Rocket Raccoon hugged his arms and looked at Quill and asked. He shook his whiskers and continued: "Seriously, I don't want to go back to the universe to wander, at least not alone."

"But you haven't said why you appeared here." Quill turned his head to look at Rocket Raccoon.

"At the banquet, I saw that we were about the same, and that day I heard you say to Heimdall who guards the Rainbow Bridge that you wanted to come to Earth. It just so happened that the psychiatrist who temporarily supervised me was also an Earthling, so I came to find you."

"But you are a raccoon."

"Mechanical raccoon." Rocket Raccoon rolled his eyes, stretched out his little claws, Quill was not sure if he saw anything, so he leaned his face closer, and then "swish," the sharp mechanical claws popped out. Almost cut Quill's nose open.

"It's amazing." Quill shook his head slowly and said, but soon, his eyes were filled with surprise again. He turned his body over, almost lying on the ground looking at Rocket Raccoon's eyes and said: "Then are you willing to help me?"

"That's why I asked you, what are you going to do next?"

"I have to find Yin Yin Lisha." Quill grabbed his hair and said: "She needs my help. Recently, another unidentified flying object fell in the Rocky Mountains. I came back just in time."

"It used to be her helping me, and since I left Earth, I haven't had a chance to repay her. Now she is overwhelmed by her work and has received great pressure from her boss. This point is clearly reflected in that letter. I must go to help her."

Quill stretched out his arm toward Rocket Raccoon. Rocket Raccoon sighed. After a pause for a moment, he grabbed Quill's arm and jumped onto his shoulder.

When the last afterglow of the sunset fell below the horizon, the figures of the young man and the raccoon on his shoulder disappeared on the skyline of the highway next to the cemetery.

"At that time, I still held the heart of helping friends, but what happened next was not enough to match my pure mood at that time, but greatly exceeded, and even shattered it."

"This is not because our friendship is not strong enough, but because the thing that has been calling me in the darkness is like the singing of larks above the sky, distant, indifferent, and I don't know where to go."