Panic Attack

Untitled Part 9

               "This is my fault." Drax said numbly, holding a hand to his forehead. Peter stopped in his frantic pacing to face the man with surprise.

"This wasn't your fault, Drax." Gamora answered, her voice slightly shaken as she made her way over to the tattooed man. But he refused to look up towards her, even as she pulled a chair in front of him to sit in before tending to his wounded head, placing a cold ice-pack to the large welt.

"I should have protected him!" He almost shouted back, shaking the ship with his volume. Gamora only pursed her lips, knowing she wasn't about to convince him otherwise until they had Rocket back safe and sound.

"I am Groot." The wounded Flora Colossus managed, his voice audibly strained as he sat himself up. Unfortunately, without the raccoon as their translator, no one was able to make out exactly what he was struggling to say, but Peter was pretty sure it ran along the lines of taking the blame for himself.

The attack had left him utterly mangled, splintered pieces of wood having been strewn about the ship as he struggled to move. No one except Groot himself knew exactly what had happened during the kidnapping of their furred companion, and whatever weapons that the attackers had used had rendered him almost incapable of moving.

Both an arm and a leg were missing from the large being, the remaining appendages hanging loosely from a few vines that fought to keep them in use. A hole the size of a base-ball had torn its way through the entirety of Groot's chest, leaving black singe marks that still smoked slightly. Thankfully, the massive creature was capable of regenerating himself rather quickly, Peter recalled Gamora having cut both of Groot's arms clean off back on Xandar and by the time they had gotten to the Kyln, they were almost grown back entirely.

The large steaming hole in the creature's chest had already begun to mend itself, small vines from within the wound intertwining in a web-like formation. In any other circumstance, Peter would have been utterly amazed by his large friend's enhanced healing ability. Unfortunately, due to their stressful situation, all the pacing Star Lord could do now was hope that Groot's limbs grew back fast enough to allow him to help in their attack on the Halfworld ship... once they located it that is.

"Peter?" His head snapped up at Gamora's voice. She was still sitting across from Drax, helping the large man in keeping the ice pack plastered to his throbbing head. "What are we going to do?" She asked. If Quill hadn't known better, he would have thought that the ex-assassin was on the verge of tears, but seeing as though he wasn't feeling in the mood for being stabbed by one of her ever-present weapons, he ignored the wavering in her tone.

With his head spinning in panic and confusion, Peter had wanted to lash out. Blame someone, anyone. Hell, Groot and Drax had both confessed their own guilt. He wanted to shout at Gamora for asking such a question. He wanted to test out one of Rocket's many weapons on that freaking scientist that he had allowed onto his ship.

He wanted nothing more than to yell and shout at everyone for having lost Rocket. But enough sense was left in Peter, reminding him that if he did lash out, nothing would get better. It would get them no closer to saving their lost friend than they already were and he wasn't about to risk that.

The attack from the white Halfworld ship had sent the Milano into utter chaos. Lucky for him, Nova had added air-tight doors on board his ship during the restoration. He hadn't seen the need at the time, but now, seeing as there was a large gaping hole in the side of the Milano, Peter had never been more grateful for the otherwise useless modification. Much to his displeasure, the ship still remained dangerously damaged, leaving them unable to follow the white ship as it took off into the vast empty void of the Galaxy, going who knows where with Rocket in hand.