“ when you have nothing to say, set something on fire. ”
Rocket knows the other Guardians don’t approve of half of what he does in his spare time. They tend not to ask where he goes when he leaves for hours or days at a time – they won’t get an answer on a good day, and on a bad day he’ll nearly bite their heads off for sticking their noses in his private business. Why they feel the need to check in on him he’ll never understand. Maybe they’re worried about him, more likely they’re worried about whoever he might hurt. And most of the time, they’re right to be.
But they tend not to ask, not even Drax (who doesn’t understand privacy), or Quill (always so high and mighty), or Gamora (she watches him with an unreadable expression as he climbs into his shuttle and departs). Groot watches him too, but his expression is sadder, not wanting to be left behind. But Rocket won’t take a baby with him, and that’s what Groot is. No matter how much shit he’s seen, he still has to shelter him from the rest of the world. Give him the chance at innocence the first Groot never had. That he never had.
And besides. This is a solo mission. It’s far too dangerous for anything else.
The flight back to Halfworld is silent, which is unusual for Rocket even when he’s traveling by himself. He has a copy of Quill’s tape with him, but he doesn’t play it. Instead, he contemplates just what he’s going to say to his old captors if he sees them again.
Yet after five hours, nothing comes to mind. He can’t think of a single thing that could possibly encompass the contempt he feels for the scientists, for the facility, for the entire fucking planet.
“ when you have nothing to say, set something on fire. ”
So at the end of the sixth hour, as his shuttle bursts through the atmosphere and descends toward the tallest of the buildings in the research complex, he does just that.
A lighter and a blowtorch – that’s all he carries in hand as he jets down to the surface in an aero-rig, a gun larger than he is strapped to his back. He crashed through a window, and before they realize what’s going on, the lab is up in flames, and Rocket is vaulting out the window. It doesn’t take long for the flames to spread upward and soon the entire building is ablaze. Sirens wail from every direction, and Rocket watches with a grim expression. There’s no smugness in his face, no satisfaction. There’s still one more job to do.
The other building – the one that houses the captured creatures – stands untouched. But there’s nowhere for them to go. If the fire kills every scientist, they’ll be left uncared for. He can’t take them with him, they’ll die alone on the planet, and any that somehow do escape won’t last a day out in space.
He can’t save them. He can only save countless others from ever having to be brought here at all.
It’s no effort at all to torch that building too, and although it’s impossible, Rocker swears he can hear the desperate cries of all the prisoners inside. He doesn’t want to watch, but he can’t tear his eyes away, not until his sight is obscured by smoke. Only then does he finally turn, fly back up to his shuttle, sink into his seat, and close his eyes. The Nova Corps will be alerted, they’ll be here any moment, and part of him considers just staying put, letting them take him in. He deserves it. He’s never denied being a murderer, but he’s never deliberated killed the innocent. Not until today.
But he can’t. The team needs him, Groot needs him. So he reaches for the stereo, blasting Southern Nights loud enough that his ears hurt, and returns to them without singing along to a single word.
