Rocket storms off the Guardians ship after an argument over unresolved repercussions of the Thanos SNAP and other past deeds of his. When he doesn't show his face again, later leaving behind a note and his room half empty of his belongings, it's bel...
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
To her further despair, Rocket did not respond. But considering the horrible state he was in, it was understandable. It was a near miracle that he was still breathing at all. What happened to him?! Who did this to him?!
Rocket was tied up and hung at the center of the room like a cruel, broken centerpiece. Completely naked, his head hung low, ears drooped. Legs and arms tied spread apart. For a moment Gamora could only stare in disbelief, unable to speak, unable to move. A horrible ache grew inside of her at the sight of him. It's really him–he's been here all this time–and he's alive!
Knowing she needed to help him, she numbly took long strides forward scarcely taking in his various injuries. His small, defenseless body hung limp against the outside of an empty cage. Eyes closed, the desperate rise and fall of his thin chest the only signs of life. Each heartbreakingly small limb tied up tightly with barbed wire.
It was no wonder small puncture wounds leaking blood were visible around each wrist and ankle. She wished that was all the damage she could see on him. But his horribly emaciated body also displayed numerous bruises, slashes, cuts, and wounds. All along his belly, chest, sides, arms and legs.
There even appeared to be bruising and blood on his nose. There was bruising and cuts on his ears. The fur on his face and body was filthy and matted with dirt and blood. And there were small patches missing. Small sections of fur appeared burned, with inflamed rashes on his exposed skin beneath.
Desperate to rouse him from unconsciousness, she tried again, softening her tone. "Rocket–it's me–Gamora...." Her voice choked with horror and tears she could barely contain. Yet if there was any possibility that he heard her, he didn't show it. He was only breathing. That was all. But barely.
She numbly reached a shaky hand to gently probe the weakly heaving thin chest. She needed to feel him–needed to feel the wheezing breaths he took to ensure herself she wasn't imagining. She shuddered at how cold he felt; the fact he wasn't shivering to regulate his temperature was already a bad sign.
Her nose was assaulted with the musty smell of sweat and blood along with some other unidentifiable odors. She couldn't care less, stroking the unkempt fur while avoiding a vicious slash wound on his chest. Her unsteady hand could feel every rib poking out with each forced breath. Felt his weak, unevenly beating heart no doubt struggling for life.
She faintly remembered Rocket's heart was the fastest out of all of them due to his small size. Right now his heart rate could even match hers. She knew that wasn't normal nor was it good for someone his size.
Suddenly his head twitched then slowly lifted weakly, seemingly meeting Gamora's anxious gaze. His previously reddish-brown eyes squinted open, now blood-shot, eyelids swollen pink and bruised.
Gamora then shuddered out a sigh of relief upon finally getting him to be conscious again. "Hey.....Rocket it's me." She whispered sniffling slightly, smiling through her tears at him in hopes of assurance.
