Chapter 13
You will never know how wrong you are. You do not live to see 89P13 scamper out the open window, down into the dark alley way, rain soaking its fur and causing the pain in its cybernetics to twinge. You never see it huff for breath, pumping out ineffable emotions. You never see its ears flick as it hears something rummaging around in the dumpster and on impulse it shoots. Once, twice, three times. You will never see the look on its face as it stares down at what it has done. A young raccoon lies decimated, six revken bullets in its belly. You are not privy to the tears that fill 89P13’s so called soulless eyes. Tears of horror as it slumps against the brick and slides down to try and imbed itself in the concrete. You do not see the flora colossus follow and sit down beside P13. You never witness the two sitting there in that dark dank alley, your blood still seeping into the cracks of the flora’s bark. You never see how the flora sits like a sentinel beside 89P13. It knows to offer no words of comfort. 89P13 sits for a long time and many thoughts and emotions rush through its enhanced mind, many more courses through its shattered little heart. It does not yet have the words for these emotions. It will sit there in that alley until it shivers from the cold and its cybernetics shorten out in the water and it twitches, bracing with the pain it lives with every moment of every day, aching in its body. A constant reminder of what you have done to it. A constant reminder that it is only here because of what you did to it. You never see 8913 vomit in a puddle in that alley way nor see the flora eventually draw itself up and take 89P13 wordlessly in its long arms, trying to smooth out the water-logged fur with the same deft hands that slit your throat.
You never see 89P13 go back to the ship where there are others waiting for it. You never know that it was subject 89P13 who helped save Xandar. You never know that it is 89P13 who helped defeat Thanos and restore balance to the universe. You do not know that 89P13 drinks itself into a stupor trying to drown its memories, trying to drink until it no longer feels self-hatred when it looks at the grotesque mess of flesh and metal in the mirror. You do not hear it languidly cry in anguish at the nightmare’s night after night, nor do you observe that hollowed look in its eyes after five nights without sleep. You never look on while it builds a complete fertilizer and photosynthesizer for a tiny flora colossus. You never marvel at the elemental sword it makes for the Zen Wobari woman or the enhanced sound system for music it constructs for a human man. You never see it create a memory player to recall happy times with a lost family for the benefit of a Destroyer.
You never stand by as it pushes these same people away.
You never hear the words they say when they tell it it is forgiven.
You never watch as it makes a substance to negate the pain of cybernetics, not for itself. For another woman who has lost nearly as much as it has. You never observe it salvage a Yakka arrow so that another ravager who has lost its purpose may have it and find one. You never see it conceive of a device where by an empath can temporarily get some peace from the emotions of others.
It will try many times to rip out its cybernetics.
One day it will succeed.
You do not hear the alarm of those people it has found, people nearly as broken as it is, who find it on the floor and immediately try to fix it. You never hear how they decide not to take it to a medical facility or a lab because they know that would only do worse. You never hover while they learn everything they can about cybernetics. You never witness the human man who uncovers some of your destroyed notes and use it to repair the cybernetics. You do not feel the quick, precise hands of the most dangerous woman in the galaxy as she inserts the piece back into 13’s flesh. You do not marvel at how gingerly she stitches it up, this time the flesh neatly tucks over the metal and the stitches heal clean. You never count the hours that a tattooed destroyer hovers over 13 waiting for it to awaken. You never witness the happy tears of the empath or the flora nor the bemused smile of cyborg woman who murdered Thanos herself. You never see the look on 89P13’s face when it awakens to those who love it. You never feel the arms that embrace it or experience the warm rush of a new emotion 89P13 feels in its little heart. This emotion it never had words for but has felt periodically since it escaped. You do not know that this emotion is not only love. But the willingness to love others and let yourself be loved in turn. To feel deserving of love. You will never know that this family it has found loves it deeply, unconditionally. Not because of what 89P13 is but because of who he is. You created Subject89P13 yes, but that is all you did. But there is so much more to us then where we came from. We are more than our makers, more than flesh and blood and metal and fur and hair and scars. There is an entire life to be lived beyond our beginnings. You will never understand this. But Rocket will.
The End