Intern’s Log: Why Rocket Raccoon is a Terrible Model for a Super Soldier

  Date: Redacted

  Intern ID: Reynolds, J. (Yes, I’m still here. No, I don’t know why.)

  So after Project Felis (a.k.a. "Why We Don’t Make Cat-Soldiers Because They’re Furry Sociopaths"), you’d think we—the extremely underpaid, underappreciated, and often traumatized lab interns—would have learned our lesson about trying to make animal-based humanoid soldiers.

  We did not.

  Why? Because some higher-up watched Guardians of the Galaxy, got starry-eyed, and decided Rocket Raccoon was the perfect prototype for our next attempt.

  Phase One: The Justification (a.k.a. The Lies We Told Ourselves)

  The logic was technically sound (and by "technically," I mean "written by people who have never met a raccoon"). The proposal went something like this:

  ? Raccoons are highly intelligent, capable of tool use and problem-solving.

  ? They have opposable thumbs, making them better suited for humanoid combat roles.

  ? They have a low center of gravity, making them harder to knock over.

  ? They are natural scavengers, perfect for battlefield adaptability.

  ? They are cunning and resourceful, perfect for espionage.

  Here’s what the proposal DIDN’T mention:

  ? Raccoons are chaotic little demons with no respect for law, order, or human suffering.

  ? They steal everything that isn’t nailed down. (And some things that are.)

  ? They hold grudges and will go out of their way to inconvenience you.

  ? They don’t just adapt—they cause problems on purpose to see what happens.

  But nobody listened to the interns, so Project Procyon was greenlit.

  Phase Two: The Prototype (a.k.a. The Regret)

  So we made one. One singular humanoid raccoon soldier, because after the cat disaster, leadership was wary about mass production. (Smart. For once.)

  His designation was 001-P, but we called him Bandit. That was mistake #1.

  At first, Bandit seemed… promising. He was shockingly intelligent, quickly picking up human speech, understanding complex systems, and bypassing security measures he wasn’t supposed to know about.

  That last part should’ve been a red flag. It was not.

  Phase Three: The Problem (Which Was Bandit)

  1. The Unquenchable Need to Steal

  Bandit stole everything. Weapons, ID cards, food, research documents, an entire prosthetic leg from a visiting general.

  We found a stash hidden behind the ceiling tiles in Lab 4, including:

  Four sidearms

  A set of handcuffs

  Two wallets (we still don’t know whose)

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  A flash drive containing top-secret clearance codes

  A whole-ass security camera that he somehow detached from the wall

  Every time someone asked him where something went, he’d grin, lie, and produce a completely unrelated item instead.

  "Hey Bandit, have you seen my tablet?"

  "I have this banana."

  "That’s not—where did you even get that?"

  "Trade?"

  2. The Compulsion to Create Problems

  Bandit lived for chaos.

  He figured out how to unlock the lab doors remotely and let out an entire wing of experimental combat drones "for fun."

  He reprogrammed a training sim to add flamethrowers "because it was boring."

  He convinced a new recruit to "go press that big red button and see what happens." (The button activated a missile defense test. Indoors.)

  And the worst part? Every time we tried to discipline him, he looked amused.

  3. The Grudge Holding

  One time, a researcher denied Bandit an extra snack. A normal animal would pout and move on.

  Bandit? No.

  He waited. For three weeks.

  Then, one hour before the researcher’s big presentation, he stole all her notes and left a single shredded page in her coffee cup.

  Security footage caught him watching from the rafters while she panicked. He was eating popcorn.

  Phase Four: The "Final Straw" (a.k.a. Why We Shut This Down)

  The breaking point was The Great Explosion Incident.

  We don’t know exactly how it happened, but here’s what we pieced together:

  Bandit stole a scientist’s ID badge.

  Bandit broke into the restricted armory.

  Bandit acquired C-4. (I wish I was kidding.)

  Bandit attached it to a vending machine.

  Bandit detonated it.

  When questioned, he claimed it was a "science experiment."

  "You blew up the vending machine."

  "Hypothesis confirmed: candy does not survive explosives."

  "That’s not—why?!"

  "I wanted a Snickers."

  Phase Five: Immediate Termination of Project Procyon

  After several hours of trying to explain to the general why a raccoon had access to military-grade explosives, Project Procyon was canceled immediately.

  The official report cited:

  "Severe unpredictability"

  "High risk of unauthorized munitions acquisition"

  "Refusal to follow orders unless bribed with snacks"

  Unofficially? The higher-ups were afraid Bandit would unionize.

  Where is Bandit Now?

  Great question. We don’t know.

  After the program shut down, security was supposed to transfer him to a containment facility. But when they arrived, all they found was:

  An unlocked cage

  A note reading "Catch me if you can"

  A stolen keycard from the base commander

  To this day, nobody knows where Bandit went.

  But sometimes, when an officer loses something important… when a vending machine malfunctions suspiciously… when a security camera goes missing…

  We wonder.

  And we pray.