Built for Destruction

Untitled Part 2

"Gah!" Rocket jolted his arm away instinctively as a wire he had been holding onto sparked to life. He scowled angrily as his elbow rammed into the large slab of metal he was pinning himself against and the flashlight that had been balancing precariously underneath his arm clattered against the machinery of the Milano's engine and onto the sandy ground outside, leaving the raccoon in complete darkness.

"Crap." He growled disgruntledly, squinting his eyes as though it would somehow actually help him in seeing the damned mess of wires and dials in front of him as he struggled to keep hold of the two chords in his sweating palms. He cringed slightly when he felt a tight cramping in his right leg.

"Just my luck." He grumbled, rubbing his elbow and blinking blankly into the darkness. And to his discouragement, it wasn't all that surprising that he had forgotten to cut off the power before crawling through the interior of the Milano, something that was usually a first priority. Ever since the ambush attack back on Knowhere, something about Rocket had seemed off.

He had found himself becoming more unfocused, in fact, Groot had almost had a panic attack only a few days before after the raccoon had apparently blanked out for at least twenty minutes before he had snapped out of his trance, not that he had recalled any of it. Not only that, but his limbs had begun to feel less coordinated with his mind as well, as though his thoughts and actions were somehow out of sync.

Of course, being the proud Guardian of the Galaxy that he was, he had yet to bring his predicament to anyone's attention. He knew that they were simply after effects from the shock he had received, but according to Gamora, his seizing limbs and fuzzy mindset should have faded days ago, then again he had been under the influence of the device for an uncomfortable amount of time.

So, flexing his fingers and focusing on the synchronized motion of his small hands, Rocket decided that there was nothing to worry about and instead began working on deciding a way to finish fixing the engine without his flashlight.

Since the engines of Quill's ship weren't exactly meant to be tampered with, there was little room for Rocket to wriggle about and experiment easily let alone with much comfort, which is why the raccoon's predicament had only been growing worse seeing as though he was currently struggling greatly to hold his position between two slabs of metal with both legs planted firmly on one and his back pressed uncomfortably against the other.

He was considering simply releasing the two wires in his hands and dropping down to retrieve his light source, potentially losing the things in the mess of cables when the space in front of him was suddenly alight again. Although dimly so, Rocket was able to quickly yank the two cables from their place in the vast web of things, wrapping them around the bolts behind himself tightly.

Only after tugging on the strings of copper to ensure their security, did Rocket actually look down to find his inexplicable source of light.

"Thought you could use a hand out here." Peter called up, waving the flashlight tauntingly in his hand.

Rocket rolled his eyes. He had been crawling in the interior of the ship for over an hour and although he would have loved to argue with the Starlord, he was exhausted. Taking a moment to adjust himself, the raccoon released the tension that had been holding him in place between his shaky knees and aching back, dropping himself expertly between multiple pieces of machinery and onto the ground.

He let out a slight grunt upon hitting the ground but he was just glad that the cramping in his leg was finally given the chance to die down as he brushed himself off, wiping the grease stains further into his orange jumpsuit.