So this took forever. I actually rewrote this chapter about four times before finally coming up with this one so hopefully you all enjoy. I do have to say that it is quite confusing in its context so if there are any questions about how this chapter played out feel free to ask and I will hopefully be able to clear everything up.
"Rocket, put the gun down." Peter started, holding a hand out in a calming gesture. Although, judging on what had happened the last time the raccoon had been found with a pistol in his hands, he doubted there would be any reasoning to be done in the first place. Which is why he was prepared this round when Rocket pulled the trigger, dodging the blast by mere inches as he practically barreled full force into Groot.
"Come on bud, we've gotta go." He managed as he leapt to his feet, nearly tackling the larger being as he heard the creature behind him charging the gun again.
"I am Groot." He managed, looking desperately towards Rocket as he was pulled out of the way of another blast, the rough bark covering his body blackening as the heat singed his arm. Letting out a distressed whine, he continued back into the hallway, actually grabbing Peter's arm and lifting the man off of his own feet to wrench him from harm's way.
Finally overcoming his initial shock of being quite literally swept off of his own feet, Peter stumbled his way out of Groot's grasp, faltering for a few steps before gaining his footing again. He made the horrible mistake of turning around, hoping that Rocket had fallen into a state of at least partial control, only to almost trip over his own feet at the sight of the creature, teeth bared and guns blazing only a few steps behind them.
"Shit!" He gasped out, tugging Groot sharply around another corner, praying for dear life that they would be able to gain a few feet of ground ahead of the raging animal at their heels. "We need a plan."
Unfortunately for them, Rocket was the genius of the group. Not that the others couldn't think up a decent strategy in these kind of situations, but Rocket was the quick thinker, the risk taker, the only one who could worm his way out of practically any situation. Hell, the guy had escaped twenty-three prisons on his own within the short amount of time he had lived outside the Halfworld facility.
But seeing as though the running Peter was doing as of now was carrying the two Guardians away from Rocket's direction, he doubted that he would be willing to communicate any kind of escape plan with them. In fact, it seemed odd to Peter that Rocket was acting right now without a plan of his own, seeming to be enacting purely on instinct. Not that the gun-toting guardian wasn't at times spontaneous with his decisions, but it was almost unnerving to see him, even without any sense of his actual self, to be chasing them down like some crazed maniac without some course of action unfolding itself within his mind… unless there was one.
"Gamora, where are you?" He shouted into the communicator, hoping that the horrible signals the planet had been giving off wouldn't chose now to short out their earpieces.
"Quill!" Gamora's voice responded, static laced into the words, but understandable nonetheless. "Quill, listen to me, it's a trap, you've got to get yourselves out of there before Rocket finds you."
Peter cursed angrily under his breath, trying to keep himself focused enough on the problem at hand to keep his speed up as another blast of energy reminded him exactly why he was running in the first place. "Yeah, too late for that." He resorted, sparing a glance back at Rocket. "You didn't happen to have thought of a backup plan were Rocket to be chasing us down with a plasma blaster did you?"
He heard Gamora let out a string of curses, shouting towards who he could only guess was Drax, although the words were lost in the sea of static that filled the man's head. "Try and restrain him for now, we're on our way."
And with that the call was dropped, leaving Peer and Groot alone once again to try and think up a strategy of their own. There was always the choice of running until the raccoon tired himself out, but judging by the fact that those chances of a Terran man beating a cybernetically advanced and gun-wielding creature were very low, that idea was almost instantly put aside.
Groot however, had ideas of his own, stopping in his tracks and running in the opposite direction.
Peter watched in Shock, stumbling to a stop when his friend turned on a heel, running back straight toward Rocket. It seemed as though the raccoon in particular wasn't expecting the sudden turn of events either, as his dark eyes widened slightly, his fingers fumbling over the trigger as he tried to regain control of his reflexes.
He never managed to make a shot however as Groot lifted Rocket unceremoniously around the middle, forming vines that only thickened as they wrapped themselves around the raging creature. A few stray tendrils moved to pull the weapon from Rocket's hands, only making him grasp the pistol that much tighter.
He snarled and snapped his teeth at the branches tightening around his midsection, arching his neck as he tried fruitlessly to pull himself from Groot's grip. "Stop!" He cried out, taking both the flora colossus and human alike aback. His voice sounded horribly forced, his teeth clenched shut tightly and his lips pulling up into a snarl that told Peter he wouldn't leave with all fingers intact were he to get to close.
All signs of understanding were short lived however as Rocket reverted back to growling and kicking, his eyes squinting shut as Groot tried to turn him around in his arms so that he was facing the tree man.
Peter, shaking off his initial shock, made is way ever so carefully to Groot's side, angling himself so that he stood in front of the creature. "Rocket?" He tried, waving a hand in front of the raccoon's face, hoping to receive some sort of reaction. He wasn't listening though, instead clenching his eyes shut even tighter and thrashing wildly in Groot's grip. Peter let out an exhausted sigh, running his hands through his hair before allowing his fingers to brush over the button on his ear cuff and allowing the mask to recede.
Blinking furiously, trying to readjust his vision to the dimly lit hallway, he switched on the communicator on again. "Gamora, we've got him for now, where are you?"
…
He was running.
No, chasing.
Chasing enemies.
Friends. Rocket corrected himself. Family. Why?
They were running too. Running away. Away from the gun. From the thing covered in blood and fighting every moment for the control of its own limbs. From you. They're running from you. From the monster.
They had come to save him, and now they were going to die, because of him.
Running.
The gun was lifted into his line of sight again, the only thing showing clearly in his otherwise disoriented sense of vision. It looked as though he were staring at everything through a long tunnel, his line of sight growing smaller and more constricted the more he tried to focus his eyes. His friends were no more than darkened shapes, outlined only by the harsh white light surrounding them. Targets.
Stop.
Turn.
Shoot.
Recharge.
Shoot.
Recharge.
Sho-
Something was coming towards, it, the largest one that smelled like leaves and dirt. The charging gun shook slightly in its hands as it tried is best to shoot the damn tree.
Rocket wanted to shout with glee when two long branches came towards, wrapping him in a tight embrace and pulling his body close to his own. Vines snaked around his form, forcing his arms to his sides and twisting him so that he faced the dark figure.
It kicked. It bit. It struggled to keep the weapon in its hands when the vines tried to wrench it from its grasp.
Rocket internally let out a sigh of relief, knowing that the monster wasn't about to cause any more damage for the time being. Despite the amount of kicking and barking it tried, Groot's branches only thickened, keeping the creature at bay with his tight grip around his middle. Very tight. Too tight. Rocket couldn't breathe. Stop. STOP, you're killing me!
"Stop!" they both shouted.
More squirming. More kicking. It wasn't breathing and the more it fought to inhale, the more he other in the back of its head started to agree, allowing the creature full control of its limbs as they both began to panic.
"Rocket."
Peter's voice was much louder this time, shouting for him to open his eyes.
It shook its head, trying to get rid of the Other. The Terran was trying to get the Other's attention, trying to bring him back, and due to the lack of oxygen and the numbness filling its entire body, it seemed as though the strategy was working.
"Groot."
NO! The other was not supposed to speak, to regain that control. The other had destroyed it long ago. Abandoned it, after his programming had been disconnected. The other had tried to kill It, thought it was a monster.
It bit down on the tongue that was moving unconsciously around the dry mouth as the Other tried forming another word.
Blood filled his mouth and Rocket wanted to shout in pain, only to find he no longer had the control to move his jaw again. He felt as though he were trapped, unable to move or speak, a prisoner inside his own body, slowly losing consciousness as he fought to breathe. Well, that wasn't exactly true, he could move and speak just fine, just not on his own volition as the thing that had possessed his body continued to overpower him.
Its eyes snapped open as more voices filled the corridor, a woman and a large man. More targets.
NO.
It shook its head again when the other tried to force his way out again. The two new targets were speaking with the Terran in angry hushed tones, sometimes gesturing towards the creature in the tree's grasp. However, it wasn't listening to heir conversation, despite the other's curiosity toward the subject at hand, but was looking toward the fifth figure that had been pulled alongside the large man with a great amount of force.
The creator.
Krei.
…
"Gamora, thank god." Peter managed, turning from the wheezing raccoon in Groot's arms and towards the woman, only to come to a halt once he spotted the extra body. "Who's this?" He asked cautiously, gesturing toward the man.
Despite the bruises at his throat and wrists and the blood dripping from his nose (due to the two assassins who had escorted him no doubt) the man gave Peter a toothy smile. No, not Peter. He was looking right past the Terran actually, staring at a spot directly over his left shoulder. He was grinning at Rocket.
The animal in question only struggled further, his dark eyes locked on the man and the gun that had yet to leave his grasp being clutched tighter.
"What, he has not spoken of me?" The man asked raspily, rubbing at his bruised neck with the hand that wasn't being restrained by Drax.
Peter frowned, deciding against questioning Drax's captive and turning towards Gamora for an answer instead, although he already knew what the outcome was. So despite the sinking feeling he felt in his stomach when the woman nodded curtly towards the squirming raccoon, Peter couldn't have said he was all too surprised.
He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to resist the urge to fling himself at the man and sock him in the jaw. Although judging by the bruises lining his cheeks and under his inflamed eye, both Drax and Gamora had already taken that liberty upon themselves.
"You did this?" He asked through gritted teeth, gesturing towards Rocket, who had become sluggish in his struggling, staring wide eyed, almost pleadingly, towards the lab coat clad man across from him.
He received a toothy grin in response. "I did as he asked."
"What? He asked you to mess with his brain, take away his sanity?" Peter asked angrily, practically seething. "Turn him into some…" He trailed off, finding himself unable to find the words.
"Monster?" His head snapped up at the man's remark, wincing slightly when he heard Rocket let out an angry growl from behind him.
"What did you do to him?" It was Gamora this time, seeing as though Peter had clenched his jaw too tightly to draw any more words from himself. A choked gasp caught his attention as Rocket tried again to force himself out of Groot's hold, which only tightened the more the raccoon managed to wriggle, causing another breathless sound to escape the creature's throat.
"I fixed him. 89P13 was not built to protect the galaxy." He spat back, blood dripping from his lip as he did so. "It was built to destroy. Your friend Rocket surfaced only when systems were shut down, only when 89P13's programming was out for the count. He's a parasite, nothing more than a voice in the back of its head now."
Peter stiffened as it let out a rumble of agreement, baring its teeth again when the man turned toward him, walking closer so that he blocked the distance between it and the white coat.
With his limbs restrained by the vines encasing it in a tight cocoon, the creature was forced to resort to the violent swishing of its stiffened tail and the frantic twitching of the ears atop its head to communicate any information. It was just like back on the Milano. Ears swiveling like radio antennae trying to pick up a signal, eyes staring blankly into the space ahead of it as though searching for a far off object.
Peter bit his lip angrily, reaching his hands forward and ignoring the low growl he received in warning. "Rocket, I know you're still in there buddy." He managed, reaching toward the creature's head and placing a hand on each side of the skull, holding on tightly when it reacted, teeth snapping furiously and head pulling weakly from the hold as he tried to wrench himself away.
"I am Groot." The Flora Colossus crooned, relaxing his grip just barely, hoping to encourage a sense of comfort in his otherwise rib-cracking hold. Unfortunately, it took this as the chance of escape, pulling an arm from the cocoon. This wouldn't have been much of a problem had that hand not been holding onto the pistol still.
…
Breathe. It could breathe again. It could move again.
Use the gun, pick up the gun and shoot. Instructions scrolled through its mind, how to escape the bone crushing grip of the tree, how to shoot at the wooded figure. 89P13 pulled its lips back into a snarl, when the smell of burned wood and smoke filled its nostrils sending its reflexes into overdrive when the figures began to react.
There were more of them now. All of them. Targets.
Stop! Rocket wanted to shout. To claw his way out of this confinement he was trapped in. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything to stop this, to stop it. He heard more voices, frantic shouting from his friends as their shadowy figures began to blur together.
It raised the gun again, aiming it a one of the approaching figures, biting its tongue as It felt the Other trying to speak out again. 89P13 never got the chance to fire however before the target tackled it. Its head hit the ground hard as one of the taller figures launched themselves at it, pinning down the arms and legs. It squirmed under the body, twisting and thrusting, baring its teeth at the woman above it and letting out a low growl.
"-ket!"
It shook its head as two hands clasped around the skull, forcing it, hissing and growling, to face the muffled and echoing voice. He snapped his teeth, letting out an angry bark, the fingers digging further into his temples when he tried to wrench himself from the woman's grasp.
It clawed and kicked against the restraining force, holding onto the pistol in its grip with all the strength it could muster, trying to angle it at any one of the other figures who dared to step into range.
"Rocket!"
He froze. The voice was muffled and his head felt like it was filled with nothing but cotton as the figures around him continued to shout frantically. But Rocket knew who had him pinned to the floor.
"Rocket, you are stronger than this, fight it." The voice came again, reigning from whoever was kneeling on his chest, forcing the hissing creature to face them and blocking off any of the other figures by sliding the palms of their hands forward.
"…mora?" More blood filled his mouth as 89P13 bit down again, trying to silence the voice in the back of its head, but Rocket only pressed on, trying his hardest to force out more words, unfortunately amounting to no more than a garbled grunt.
Green, it could see green highlighting the otherwise darkened figure's skin.
One of the hands from its place gripping at the side of its head and towards the gun. 89P13's grasp tightened, using the distraction to its advantage and turning its head, twisting its neck around and sinking teeth into the green hand on the opposite side of its temple.
A loud shout of pain and surprise filled the air as Rocket felt it wriggle further underneath the weight, raising the pistol and aiming it at the green splotch in front of them. Stop! He felt it shake their head, trying to push Rocket farther back into submission.
The gun was charging.
Vibrating in their hand with energy.
Lifting up to point directly at Gamora's chest.
Then turning, ever so slowly.
Pain emanated in their wrist, two opposing forces fighting to keep control of the trigger, one trying to keep the nozzle pointed at the woman while the stronger slowly pointed towards another.
"Stop!" It growled out, trying with all of its strength to drop the weapon as it shifted targets. The voice in its head had grown louder. Stronger. "You'll die!"
No. It was all 89P13 could hear now, everything else was no more than a blur, voices drowning out by the other's words as the whirring of the pistol's gears became louder, the cool metal of the nozzle pressing against their head.
We'll die.