Though the dispute ended on a more solemn note, Rocket felt far from satisfied. His intentions were purely for their shared benefit, and yet she so adamantly denied any attempt for him to lend his aid. Her actions were nonsensical, at least if seen as purely altruistic.

This was not a matter of caretaking, but of enforcing power. Her role as captain was not being used to care for Rocket, but to enforce her superiority. She was the leader of whatever crew she managed, and to see her role challenged by someone as capable as him put her on edge. She needed an indelible reminder to enforce upon him. Solving the issue of his tracker without aid would undoubtedly alter their relationship in such a manner. An irrevocable sigil perpetually exploited to enforce her superiority.

But Rocket had no intention of yielding so easily. She had yet to laud his accomplishments, her only points of levity arising from his failure, but he no longer desired her approval or praise. He would prove without question his capability, even within the field she seemed most competent. Undoubtedly their relationship would be perturbed in tandem with the power dynamic she so eagerly maintained, Rocket had no intention of maintaining their bond. She was extraneous from the moment she brought him aboard the ship, regardless of her attempts otherwise.

Rocket was not supplementary to whatever manner of redemption she sought out, and her incessant attempts to turn him into an accessory for her atonement were uncompelling to the male raccoon. Self sufficiency was easily attainable, hence why she so thoroughly tried to stifle it within him. She had no interest in his success.

His anger manifested both mentally, audibly, and visually as he clenched his hands into fists against his fur, then growled through clenched teeth at his inaction. He should've exited the ship with her, refusing to remain on the vessel regardless of her wishes, but minutes had passed and she had long since entered the facility. Only now was Rocket fully galvanized towards his goal, heading to the weapons cache and fishing out the disassembled components of his weapon, and soon fashioning them into his custom device from memory.

He equipped the weapon's left arm while slinging its other half over his shoulder to leave his right hand bare. He took the blowtorch she so gleefully disregarded, then returned to the medical ward, finding his way up into the ceiling once again. The ship had some manner of energy shield that acted as a barrier from the void of space, thus alleviating any issues caused by small holes within the hull.

Thusly, Rocket had no qualms putting his invention to use, finding a section of flooring on the interior of the vessel close enough to one of the landing appendages for him to exit then reenter at his leisure. He, with turned head and squinted eyes, burned a small opening through the hull of the ship, kicking out the loose metal. Immediately, he felt an astonishing wave of heat flowing into the vessel, though that was far from a deterrent.

He climbed down the landing leg and stood upon the rocky surface of the planet, his body engulfed in a scorching heat. Every motion became sluggish and weighted, as if burdened by a pervasive weight he couldn't possibly offload. Regardless, his persistence drove him forward. He only stopped momentarily upon stepping forwards from the ship, his attention drawn back at the sound of shifting of metal. Mounted turrets, typically stored within the hull, directed towards him as a form of automated defense, though whatever detection mechanism they operated by clearly labeled him as an ally, as they ceased tracking him moments later.

He understood why traveling light was a necessity as he endured heat unlike he'd ever felt, sufficient to turn his vision hazy and his head light. His bare paws burned against the firm rocks beneath them, superheated by the sun, feeling almost akin to standing on a stovetop. Regardless, he maintained a sufficient pace to reach the compound before his body ceased any major functions, relishing the cooler, though far from temperate, atmosphere within the construction.

The facility was far smaller than the one from which he originated, though incorporated a rather impressive collection of buildings, most of which were topped with interplanetary communication devices, and all made with whatever manner of mass produced, uninspiringly grey metal that lined the room in which his cage had been kept. It almost seemed akin to a small village, each building serving its own necessary purpose, all of which maintained connection through smaller, air tight, metallic corridors.

The closest door remained open, and gazing inside revealed a large chamber that housed a common area, though all life was currently absent. The area was illuminated with glowing red lights, indicating a critical failure of the facility's primary systems, though the crimson glow served both to dampen any sense of impassioned optimism from the new intruder, and to dull the sight of sanguine blood coating the walls of the first hallway he entered.

A lone scientist lay face up in the hallway, a thick trail of blood leading beneath his back indicated a short crawling, before his unceremonious execution, indicated from the singular hole bored through his forehead. Two deep tears in his attire, revealing singed skin and exsanguinating holes, presented a situation. The first was just above his right pectoral, likely to render the arm in which he held his weapon useless. The second hole was smaller, indicating an exit wound rather than an entrance, located on his left hip, targeted to prevent him from escaping as he turned to run, and forcing him to fall to the floor, where his life was soon ended.

His face was coated in blood, a morbid combination of panic and despair locked eternally on his visage. The sight was gruesome, but whatever manner of perturbance was imbued within the captain's psyche from such sights, was noticeably absent from Rocket. These scientists were, if not direct applicants, necessary facilitators in his suffering, and more importantly, the suffering of his companions.

Their deaths were an act of justice, remorse only wrought from the knowledge that it was by another's weapon that Rocket found his retribution. These sights further galvanized the raccoon, searching deeper into the compound. The facility was labyrinthian to the uninitiated, each building connected to upwards of four other structures, any meaningful sense of direction divined only through blood. Whether through trails, pools, puddles, or paw prints, the sanguine fluid manifested the captain's trail through the facility, an assortment of corpses, all bearing the typical method of execution, along the path similarly indicative of her efficacy.

Though Rocket had no intention of following her path. Striking out was as simple as picking an alternative hallway to walk through, and soon the bloodied environment, littered with corpses and overturned furnishing, was replaced with a far more orderly, though lived in setting. Various rooms, such as cafeterias, storage, or even recreational areas, were unsurprisingly empty. Whatever muster protocols the scientists abided by evacuated them from these extraneous sectors.

The facility was mostly silent, save for gunfire and occasional, haunting outcries from other areas, typically in tandem, with the former predicating, then silencing, the latter. Regardless, Rocket remained diligent. Passion was no substitute for skill, and what he lacked in experience, he'd supplement with forethought.

His eyes and ears remained open, his breaths and footfall both steady and quiet. Minutes passed as he searched from room to room, remaining perceptive, though truncating any investigation to cursory searches. Overindulgence into a singular area could result in tunnel vision, which undoubtedly would be punctuated by a swift death.

Audio clues provided him a somewhat stunted assessment of his surroundings. The distant sounds of combat indicated the location of the captain elsewhere in the facility, though his immediate area remained stagnant through the minutes of his searching. Nonetheless, his diligence paid off in time. The impact of heavy footfall vibrated through the metallic flooring, a sound he recognized from his youth indicated further experimentation.

His body lowered, his center of balance growing steadier as he listened for the footsteps. Currently, he found himself in some manner of common area, various the only notable furniture coming from a collection of moveable tables, each created from the same metallic material as the rest of the facility. The footsteps were approaching the room, and Rocket took a deep breath, affording himself the calmness to formulate a plan as he stepped near a corner beside the hallway, preventing the scientist from spotting him before they entered the room.

The foremost hope was to kill this scientist the moment he stepped through the hallway. It was a simple task, his rifle capable, in theory, of creating a near constant stream of projectiles to tear through any manner of weak matter, thus negating accuracy as an issue. Potential minor adjustments coursed through his mind as the target approached. Perhaps he could prop himself up against the back wall for extra stability, or a similar result could be derived from kneeling down, though that would hinder his mobility.

The scientist burst into the room, their attire disdainfully uniform to the dress code of those who carried out his own experiments, further provoking the raccoon, who promptly pulled the trigger of his rifle with every resting finger. A distinctive line of energy was drawn cleanly across the furthest walls of the room, the initial shots inaccurate, prompting Rocket to, with remarkable effort, adjust the rifle's aim in the midst of the rapid fire towards the now panicked scientist, who quickly receded back into the hallway from which they came.

The recoil of the weapon was far greater than Rocket anticipated, and the first battery he wasted was soon overheated. As expected, it fed itself from one weapon to the other, and after Rocket adjusted his posture momentarily, having been shoved back against the wall from the recoil, he aimed the launcher towards the hallway at an awkward angle due to his position against the wall flush with the hallway's entrance. The battery was launched, yet its inaccuracy caused it to bounce off the hallway's corner.

Seeing it land within the room, emanating a faint beeping from a few yards away, Rocket snapped to a realization. He quickly lunged towards the nearest table, forcing his entire body weight against it, and forcing the square topped furniture to tip over, providing him a shield from the blast. He hadn't witnessed it from their outing earlier, but shrapnel was undoubtedly a concern.

The battery detonated with a near deafening blast, sending shockwaves through the room. Rocket took a moment of rest, propped against his makeshift cover. The heat was growing exhausting, and it seemed the temperature within the facility was only growing. Though he had no way to check without disassembling the rifle, regretting the design decision now, he was certain that a new battery was prepared. A moment later, he inhaled and pushed himself to his feet, peeking out from behind the table as he surveyed the room.

Furniture had been scattered about the area, the clattering of which had gone unnoticed beneath the newfound, though slowly fading, ringing in Rocket's ears. The warped walls and flooring indicated the exact detonation point, small openings of torn metal revealing new passageways outside, measuring only a few feet across at their widest, and perimetered by dangerously sharp metal.

He stepped from his cover, readying his stance once again, and approaching the nearby hallway. He stood out of its line of sight his approach was complete. In one swift motion, he turned into the hallway, unleashing a short burst from his rifle, bisecting the hallway with shots in a fraction of a second. The outburst wasn't enough to overheat the battery, yet took much of its ammo.

Though he was newly accustomed to the rifle's near uncontrollable recoil, his shots were far steadier. Regardless, such skill was wasted on the empty hallway. He neither heard nor felt the vibrations of footsteps, despite his acutely attuned senses, yet the scientist had ran back into the room contiguous to the hallway. A quickly beating heart left him frozen, the adrenaline in his body serving to stifle his decisiveness.

Should he follow the scientist into the subsequent room? It seemed unlikely that they'd come return through the same hallway. It was arguable they wouldn't return at all. Then again, with all four walls of this room laden with hallways, it was almost inevitable that the scientist could get a jump on Rocket. There was no way for him to watch every entrance at once, and it took but a moment and a single shot to end one's life.

Rocket kept his still ringing ears open, remaining perceptive of his surroundings while his head kept itself on a swivel, watching each opening for any movement. Adrenaline flowed through his body, imbuing him with the same drive that allow him to rend off the visage of his creator, and yet it had no target. This motivation was little more than a distraction here as he tried in vain to calm his heart to focus his mind.

Seconds passed as he waited wide eyed for a move from the scientist, until finally, he was lucky enough to spot motion from down one of the hallways, the same aggressor turning to assess the area with no more than a cursory glance. Regardless, having no shortage of ammunition, Rocket discharged the remaining ammunition from the battery in suppressing fire.

The target ducked behind the wall, of course, the shots going to waste. Though he held down the trigger, no further shots came. He expected the distinctive clicking and shifting of mechanical components to eject the battery, and yet none came. He released and pulled the trigger once again, and yet nothing came of it.

Was the battery overheating within the gun? He wasn't even certain he could move quickly enough to escape the blast radius from the numerous batteries stored inside his weapon. Yet, the batteries always made a distinctive auditory tone when overheating, one that was muffled from inside this rifle, yet entirely absent here. Through Rocket's racing mind, the realization clicked: he'd wasted ammo earlier firing down the hall, but let the battery cool down in between shots. The remaining ammunition wasn't enough to overheat the battery, and the ejection mechanism, designed originally for safety purposes, only responded to overheated batteries. There was no way to remove the jam in his gun without disassembly.

He barely had time to register his mistake before the scientist once again peaked around the corner, aiming his own weapon and letting off a single shot. Instinctively, upon seeing the rifle raising, Rocket raised his hands to protect himself, and, with luck, the heavy armaments adorning his arms took the brunt of the impact, knocking Rocket backward, and likely damaging the weapons. Yet, there was no time to assess the damage, as Rocket quickly released the weapons, throwing them to the ground and sprinting on all fours.

He'd easily be outrun in this facility, his body heat growing far too high due to his fur to maintain a consistent pace, so he quickly bolted not down the hallways, but through the holes torn open by the previous exploding battery, his body suffering cuts from the sharp metal as he squirmed through the thin opening, then landed out onto the firm, scalding rocks outside.