A creature so small
Rocket was alone.
He was currently on a planet. He wasn't sure the name. Months ago, he was on Contraxia. He knew that name. He'd never FORGET that name. Not after all that happened. All he'd destroyed.
He was somewhere. But he felt like he was nowhere at all. Wearing a simple cloak over himself. A burnt jumpsuit he hasn't cleaned in weeks, the top half destroyed ages ago. His fur had grown back at least.
His fur was dirty. Matted with blood, some of it his.
His eyes were exhausted. His body was in so much pain.
Hunger. That was the word. Right.
Hunger. 'Chronic' pain, too, was something he had.
Chronic... That had to do with time, right? Time pain...?
He doesn't get how time can hurt him. They always told him time healed you.
Of course they told him lots of things. And they lied a lot.
Lied.
Well now Rocket was lying. Lying down, that is. Words were so strange. Overlap, for what reasons?
Maybe Chronic was an overlapping word. Maybe it meant something not like Time.
He didn't know. He didn't know lots of things.
He knew how to build things, and kill things. He knew how to do mathematics. He knew how to kill things.
He didn't know where he was. What he was. Who he could be. He wasn't what he wanted to be.
He didn't want to kill things. He didn't want to be alone.
He was supposed to build things. Carry his friends to the sky.
Now he was just starving under a dumpster, somewhere he didn't know.
Some friend he was.
Rocket shudders, and climbs out from under the dumpster.
Stealing. He'd learned what that was.
He had learned when he had to do it. Had to steal.
He remembers seeing food out in the world. Food he'd never seen before, but his instincts told him it was good for him. There was some sort of trust he had for it, instinctively.
He'd tried to ask for it. The person who was giving it-no, selling it, had asked if he had 'units'. Rocket didn't know what those were, either, back then. So he'd said as much. And the woman had scoffed at him, thinking he was playing some joke. Then she'd realized he wasn't joking, and asked what he was.
He didn't know that. She didn't believe him. She told him he should try to find his way back home.
He didn't have a home.
He'd ended up asking if he could have a food again. She said no, she couldn't give it away.
Rocket had been so sad. He didn't understand what he was supposed to do.
He tried a couple other times. Someone called him a 'beggar' and chased him away.
Eventually Rocket was so hungry, so tired of eatin' garbage that he'd find in the cans, that he went back, early in the morning... And when no one was looking, he had grabbed one of the foods. Berries, he was told later. At least, he thinks they were berries. Didn't know for sure.
But he'd eaten them. And they were the best thing he'd ever eaten.
So he tried to steal more later. And he got caught, and then the people in armor, with the big sticks took him to a place that was cold, and dark, and wet. It wasn't as bright as his cage had been.
They kept him there for the night, and he wanted to ask more questions, but they told him to 'shut up'.
He didn't know what that'd meant, but he knew now.
He had almost missed Sire. He hated that he did. He despised that he did, in fact. It made him angry.
Then he was released.
He asked someone how you get units. They said a job.
Rocket knew what 'jobs' were. Sire would tell him 'good job' when he'd do his tasks and work right.
You work, do tasks, and that's a job.
He asked if he could do jobs for some of the people in the city he had ended up in. Even asked the shopkeepers.
They said no. He didn't know what to do after that.
He tried to travel farther, he was hungry, but he hadn't been able to get a job.
Hadn't been able to get 'units'.
He ended up stealing again, and he got caught again, and he got beat up again.
And again.
And again.
Until they took him somewhere else.
But he was a lot better at stealin' now. They didn't catch him often.
Plus now he knew a way to make Units. You catch people who have bounties. You turn 'em in.
But now he was alone, he wasn't sure he could do it on his own. It'd been easier with-no, don't think about them.
They're gone.
Rocket shakes his head, back to the present.
He sighs wearily, his little voice softer than anything in the dark, jagged village of squalor and despair around him.
Sharp, rusted old metal, haphazardly welded together to make buildings. There were uneven angles, there were horribly put together shapes and colors, nothing matched. Sire would hate this place.
It made Rocket like it, a little. He liked how it was put together in whatever ways it could be.
He could see parts that were screwed together, or welded, or some parts tied with hefty cables or ropes...
The sky above was dense with smog. 'Pollution', Rocket had learned.
It was orange in the day, but at night it looked like a deep, marshy green in the blue light of the night.
The whole city's color changed with the light of the moon.
The rusty oranges, the dark blue-grays of the steel.
They became blues, greens, blacks...
Then there were street lights... Rocket had seen them for the first time shortly after leaving Sire.
When you get up high, and look down... It looks like a sea of stars on the ground...
Rocket liked streetlights.
When they're close, you can see they change the colors. Different from the day, different from the night.
He thought about this, while he walked through the streets, looking at little orange globes, strung between buildings on lines. Cables? Cords? There were many words he could think of to describe them.
He looked up at them, beautifully dangling in the night. They felt warm, too.
Warmer than the areas without light, at least.
He'd ran far when he got here. He had gotten onto whatever public transport he could, and snuck his way into the storage, just carefully tagging along. And eventually he was here.
He had run. For hours, it felt like. Days.
When he checked his memory later, it was only a few minutes.
He sighs.
He'd stayed under the dumpster for a week.
Now he had to eat, had to steal SOMETHING.
He probably had units left on the Unit Key. But those funds weren't just for him.
They... Were now, but they weren't. They weren't. His.
He couldn't use them. He refuses to.
He feels the key in his pocket. He doesn't want to think about it.
He left his weapons behind, he left the ship behind, he left everything behind.
But he didn't want to think about it.
He finally smells food.
Following his nose, he sees an open window. It's just a home. Not a store or restaurant.
He climbs a pole outside, connecting to the lights.
He looks inside. People. They have orange skin. There's one big one, three little ones.
He thinks it's a woman, but can't make out what the little ones are. They're all just playing some game in a room with a big soft seat. They aren't paying much attention to the food that's cooling off on the counter.
He hops to the window, looking at the food. It's a tray of circular thingies. They're orange and yellow, and have bits of green, red, and brown. He has no clue what they are. Sire taught him a good bit of cooking, but he never cooked something like this. Some mishmash of different things... That made a blobby looking firm thing.
Rocket briefly looks at the people in the room playing. He wonders what they're playing. What their lives are like.
He sighs, and shakes his head. He grabs two of the things. They come out of the pan easily. They have some sort of paper-ish wrap on the outside, he wonders what it's for.
But for now, he just jumps out of the window, landing on the ground.
He whimpers slightly, feeling injuries inside his legs flare up with heat and pain.
He runs quickly, and leaps against a nearby wall, running up a wall, only briefly needing to use one of his arms, to quickly grasp a piece of metal that juts out. He's able to then rely on his legs to push him further up the wall.
He huffs out a breath as his feet are able to flatten out against the roof.
He sighs, and sits down.
He looks down at the food in his hands.
He reaches up, and gives a chomp.
His teeth tear through soft stuff easy.
It tastes SO good, wow!!!
He doesn't know what it is, but he loves it. It's almost as good as poppy bits!!!
He's so happy, he's so delighted. This was SO worth it.
He wonders if Pilot knows-
He turns to his right, as if she'd be there again.
He freezes. Looking around as he remembers the others are gone.
Right.
He's alone.
He's gonna stay alone this time. He's tired of this happening over and over.
It's better to be alone.
You don't hurt anyone. No one hurts you.
So he'll stay that way.
He can survive.
Several Months Later: Knowhere
The little creature wandered the streets below, dodging carefully around the edge of crowds.
He was impressive... How a creature so small managed to survive alone... It was wondrous!
He wanted it for his collection, but... Well, he knew the little thing would put up quite the fight. He had seen the little thing take out three bounties of men many times it's size. Normally he wouldn't mind that...
But for his plans, this was a positive.
The little creature would make quite the gift, tormenting his sister with the thing... She would probably kill it eventually, once she tired of it. But well, he didn't particularly care. After all, this was just for fun.
He smiled down at the creature. How convenient it'd made it's way back. It seems to have made a habit of coming back here.
The Collector looked down at the Bounty Hunters he'd hired to watch for the little creature.
They were moderately competent.
He figured they could handle a little animal.
Thankfully, he could see they'd noticed the creature, and they were following. This would be done with soon enough, he could send it along to his sister, and she'd be so angry, but too polite to reject it.
Then the feisty little beast would torment her for a short while.
Maybe when she grows tired of it, he can buy it back from her and keep it. If she doesn't kill it first, yes... That'd be fine enough as a plan. He doesn't particularly care either way, though. It wasn't of much value to him.
He snaps his fingers, and hears a servant quickly rush into the room.
"Prepare a delivery crate. Make sure it's a durable one." He says firmly.
"Y-Yes sir..." She says quickly, then heads off.
Within an hour or two, he'd have the little creature. He'd accept no less.
He almost wished he had more cameras around the city, so he could see the show. See how much of a fight it puts up.
But oh well, he'd hear stories of it from the bounty hunters, once he paid them.
Though, what kind of fight was he expecting a creature so small to put up?
Rocket walked through the dense, neon-lit alleys of Knowhere.
He kept low. He kept cleaner now. He liked being clean, it felt nice.
He already knew that, but now it was something he did regularly.
He'd traded his old destroyed clothes for a new jumpsuit. It was pink, with grey clasps and belts. There were darker parts he liked. It kept the center of his frame highlighted, which he found made people focus on the pink, and not see his hands as quickly. Easier to steal from people that way.
He had a knife in one pocket, a pistol on his belt, which he'd modified to match the color better.
He had a small knapsack on his back. Inside was an attachment that made his pistol MUCH more lethal.
There were two Unit Keys. One sentimental, one for buying things.
There were a few knick-knacks he'd stolen, to build with. One was to decorate his hidden little nest.
He felt like he was finally at least finding some sort of comfort in monotony.
People never expected the little creature to have a gun, to shoot them in the leg, then knock them out. Then turn 'em in for units. It was shockingly easy to make money as a bounty hunter.
He smiles to himself. At least he was alive.
Even if it sucked being alone.
He starts to make his way up the side of the building, in a tight alley, then his ears perk up as he hears something-a click. A trigger.
Quickly, he leaps from the side of the building, hearing metal graze the wall, electricity crackles. An Electric Net.
He lands against the side of the building opposite it.
He quickly leaps down to the ground, towards his attacker.
They're large. Burly. Purple skin. They're aiming at him again, but they're aiming too high, reflexes are slow.
He quickly darts in, and has already slipped his knife out of the pocket it's stored in.
With a clean slash, the big guy's ankle has a deep gash in it.
Rocket rushes between his legs while he falls to one knee.
Two other targets. A pink haired woman, already has a rifle aimed at Rocket's head. It's not lethal, he recognizes the energy. Electricity inside. It's set to stun, and it's charging up. Not ready.
And another woman, this one had two stun batons, and yellow skin, with short black hair. He could see the glint of blades on her back, she preferred fighting with them. Her grip wasn't optimal.
Rocket grabs the barrel of the rifle, and pulls himself into a slide underneath it, before clawing the barrel viciously, tearing it apart.
He then takes the broken end of the barrel, and stabs it into the woman's lower leg. He doesn't aim for the artery above, he's not going to kill them.
The woman lets out a scream, and the blast in the rifle cancels. She knows better than to fire it.
The other woman hesitates to attack. If she swung now, she could hit her ally, as Rocket was close to her.
He won't hesitate. He rips the barrel back out of the first woman's leg, and throws it at the second woman's face.
She blocks, as expected, and Rocket shoots her in the chest. Set to stun.
She falls backwards as electricity flows through her.
Rocket dodges between the rifle woman's legs, and takes stock of the situation.
The woman he shot is writhing on the floor, good.
One target is down.
The woman is slumping over, she's not willing to fight any further, it seems.
Two targets down.
The burly man is turning towards him, looking quite angry.
One target remaining.
Rocket just shoots him with the stun pistol two times, and he drops to the ground.
He looks at the slumped over woman, gripping her leg in pain. Aims the pistol at her shoulder, and pulls the triggere.
All targets unconscious.
"Chumps." He chirps out, turning, only to be met with a blond haired golden man, with a smug grin, who hits him in the face with a stun baton, knocking Rocket out.
As consciousness leaves him, he hears the man laughing, and reaching down to grab him.
"Little thing put up quite a fight..." The suave tones of the golden man infiltrate his ears.
Four targets. Four.
Rocket missed one.
That's all he thinks about as reality fades away.
Some Time Later: Somewhere Else
Rocket wakes up, and finds that he's been put in a cage.
No, cages have bars. This is just a dark box. Stale air. There are air holes but they're too small.
His lungs feel like they're burning. This is purposeful. To weaken him.
He remembers this sort of thing happening when he would fail the tests, Sire would punish him in a lot of different ways. But he hated being closed in like this, more than anything.
He'd fumbled. He lost a fight. This was the consequence.
Who was he being taken to? Where? Why?
He didn't have a bounty, he checked.
At least, he checked two days ago... Assuming that WAS two days ago. He had no clue if he was unconscious for a few hours, a few days, a few months. Probably just a few hours though.
He hated the idea of not knowing. He could replay his memories, but only the memories he was awake for.
He growls to himself. He failed. And now he's lost everything. Again.
He looks around, eyes clicking into darkvision.
It was perfectly flat inside. Clean metal.
He could make out the tiny little holes in the crate, letting air in.
The lack of light meant whatever was around him was dark, too.
He sees that he's been stripped, but they chose to let him keep the knapsack...
Opening it, the little carved bird he'd stolen for fun was still there.
His tech was gone... But he still had the two Unit Keys.
They weren't after his money... So they wanted him?
Who would...
Sire. Sire'd want him. Sire would want to send someone and get him.
Rocket immediately knows he has to get out of here.
He claws at the crate. Durable... But probably not durable enough.
He digs his claws into the metal, gritting his teeth slightly at the soreness that follows.
A big enough hole is made, he sticks the top of his jaw through, and in a CHOMP, he's made a much larger hole.
He grins to himself, and worms his way through the hole, making sure not to leave the Knapsack behind.
No wonder Sire didn't want him knowing how tough he was. Rocket could've escaped MUCH sooner.
Rocket looks around. There weren't many other crates, only three or four, and they were designed to carry plants.
He sniffs at them, approaching. Flowers?
Flowers and Rocket, delivered together... Why...?
Rocket realizes he can't see any doors. It must be done purposefully, to feel like there's no escape.
There's four cameras. He's definitely already been spotted.
Doors could open on every wall, probably...
Guards would swarm in.
All Rocket had to do was get past one.
Though... How was there air in here?
Ever since he'd left the crate, the air felt fresh. He could sense air coming in...
He looks around. He starts walking around. Eventually, under one of the corners, he can feel the lightest of air currents.
Maybe the walls aren't all flat... No, not maybe, it's definitely some sort of illusion.
He crouches, and leaps up against the wall, and lets out a sudden whimper as he finds himself stuck to it.
His legs sink into the metal, as if it were a dense liquid, or a sludge.
"Wh... Huh? Ah-AH!" Rocket panics as he's pulled further into the wall.
He's getting sucked in.
He whimpers, and starts shouting out.
"P-PLEASE! HELP!" He calls out pathetically.
Pulled deeper into the wall, he loses one hand to the thing, and most of his lower body is trapped in the gunk.
He shouts out again, desperate.
"HELP!!" He cries.
He tries to wiggle free, but it doesn't work, and he feels the slick metal pulling him deeper. Now only his shoulder, arm, and head are still free.
He's hyperventilating. How was this possible?? How did this-what was happening!?
He whimpers again as he's pulled deeper, until soon, he can feel it coming around the back of his head.
He whimpers as it starts to move into his ears. They feel filled, but he can tell it's not really going in, maybe it's too thick?
Everything is muffled now. It's horrible.
Rocket tries to let out another shout, as his eyes get covered by steely grey, into blackness.
"H-Hel-glk-" Rocket's cut off as the liquid moves into his mouth. It feels like he's being smothered.
He feels like he's drowning, being choked out.
Then he doesn't feel anything at all. Everything goes black again.
The Collector entered the room, red light turning the walls back to normal.
He grins, impressed with the power of his new toy.
The guard entered next to him, looking around, stunned.
"Wh-What happened...? Where did..." He asks, stunned.
The Collector grips the red stone in his hand, and smiles. "Just a nifty little trick. Enough to make it more manageable. I've put it right back into it's' Crate. It's as if it never left!" He says, before chuckling to himself in amusement.
The guard blinks, turning the torn-open crate, and the little creature was slumped inside, unconscious.
"I'm quite glad I thought to do that little illusion... A much more dangerous little thing than I previously thought..." The Collector rubs his chin, grinning, "I can't wait for her to get a taste of this chaos... It will be quite fun."
"You're really getting her a 'gift' purely to torment her?" The guard asks, a little anxious at the idea.
"Yes! She and I do this plenty. It's just pure fun~" The Collector says, laughing to himself in a borderline 'ohoho' way. But he isn't quite hitting it. Not that anyone's judging.
"Whatever you say sir..." The guard says, frowning at the pathetic little creature in the crate.
The Collector perks up, grinning as he hears an announcement over the intercoms.
"Now arriving at Casino Cosmica!"
"Brilliant." The Collector says, clapping his hands together. "Get everything ready to unload~" He orders the guard, before turning, and walking out of the room with a smile, sliding the Reality Stone into his breast pocket. He'll have to hide it somewhere for a while, wouldn't want it getting into the wrong hands, after all. It's only for HIS hands.
But this little creature...
That was for someone else's hands. And he couldn't wait for those hands to get ripped to ribbons!
She was going to hold a grudge for weeks.