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The Benatar drifted through the Andromeda galaxy like a forgotten toy. Inside, Rocket Raccoon sat alone in the pilot’s chair, his small paws resting on dead controls. The others had gone their separate ways: Peter Quill back to Earth to mourn Gamora’s ghost, Drax to become a hyper-intelligent nanny for a race of orphaned celestial children, Mantis to find her own voice among the stars, Nebula to rebuild the Cybertectural ruins of her father’s empire, and Groot… Groot had become a sapling star, planting himself on a moon where gravity sang lullabies.
Rocket smiled, tears cutting clean tracks through his fur. “Someone who took too long to learn that you don’t have to earn a family. You just choose it.”
The Benatar stayed docked. No one needed to run anymore.
But Rocket stayed. Because the ship still smelled like them. Guardian Of The Galaxy Volume 3 -2023- HDTC 108...
“You built a family once, 89P13,” the voice hissed. “Let me show you how easily it unravels.”
Within seventy-two standard hours, they arrived. Not as a team. As a mess.
Mantis landed in a cloud of emotional residue, weeping uncontrollably because she could feel the sorrow of a dying star three systems away. Nebula came silent, her mechanical arm replaced with a wooden prosthetic carved from Groot’s first branch. The Benatar drifted through the Andromeda galaxy like
Together, they flew toward the Unraveler’s station—a cathedral of bone and circuitry orbiting a white dwarf. Inside, they found horrors that mirrored Rocket’s past: cages of hybrid creatures, tanks of half-formed dreams, and at the center, a perfect clone of Lylla, her otter eyes empty, her fur matted with nutrient fluid.
And somewhere, in a different galaxy, the real Gamora watched a sunset with the Ravagers and smiled—not with longing, but with peace.
They didn’t save the galaxy that day. They saved one soul. And that, Rocket decided, was the same thing. Rocket smiled, tears cutting clean tracks through his fur
That’s when Peter Quill, completely sober for the first time in years, swung a ship’s battery into the Unraveler’s face. Drax threw a child’s sock puppet that exploded into a gravitational singularity. Mantis touched the clone-Lylla and wept so hard that the otter’s programming cracked, revealing a flicker of real fear—real self .
Drax arrived inside a child’s backpack, having shrunk himself to fit through a dimensional rift. “I taught thirty-seven orphans to fold socks. This is less relaxing.”
