The mission was supposed to be easy. Make way through sketchy dungeon, grab mystical gem, sell said gem to buyer, become five thousand units richer. Of course, being a Guardian always called for distasteful and unfortunate events, and today was no exception.

"Nice going, Quill," Rocket growled, who was sitting on a nearby rock and fiddling with something on his arm, "This was supposed to be an easy job and you even messed that up."

"Hey, it isn't my fault that the doorway closed!" The terran retorted, the red lights from his mask's eye sockets making the darkness a little clearer.

Drax looked up from where he had sat, "It is clearly your fault. If you had not tripped we would not be in this obsurd confinement."

Gamora stayed silent, still looking over the once open metal doorway; being the only one actively doing something helpful.

The situation was anything but pretty. They had begun their journey to retrieve the stone, excited to do something other than mope around The Quadrant. It had only been a month since the Ego incident, and as much as they hated to admit it, they were still hurt.

Still, when the call came in to retrieve the forbidden gem; they accepted the opportunity with joy filled eyes.

The connecting caves were filled with booby traps, but they had come prepared. In the name of Rocket. He was able to dismantle most of the trigger systems and open a safe passage. Although the raccoon would so love to argue, nobody is perfect; as he had missed one trap. Of course, the one they were stuck in right now.

The room was anything but big, the ceiling being only around 5 feet tall and lengthwise it wasn't much better. It smelled musty and there was definitely something dead in the corner, but it didn't seem like a big problem so they coutinued on. Except for the fact that Peter Quill would trip on the back of Gamora's shoe and step on the one triggering tile. The doors on both ends of the room snapped shut, suprisingly new compared to the reeking dugeon around them. They closed slowly and horizontally; shiny metal sliding to a close, almost mocking them.

Drax almost instantly ran to the doors and tried to pry them open, straining it but not doing anything else.

He gave up after two hours.

The other Guardians would watch him sadly, knowing there was nothing they could really do. They would most likely starve if Mantis, Kraglin, and Groot didn't come in time to rescue them.

After a couple minutes of examining the door, Gamora turned around and sat beside Drax.

"You have anything?" Peter asked, looking at the green skinned alien. Underneath his mask were hopeful eyes.

She let out a disappointed sigh, "That metal is of Kree origin. Not even Rocket's gun could break through it if it didn't kill us first."

Peter huffed, resting his head on the wet rock wall behind him.

"Absolutely fantastic." He replied quietly.

Everyonce in awhile, someone would get a rush of adrenaline and charge at the door; fixing their fingers in the crack down the middle and would try to pry it open. Drax most commonly did it, but Peter and once even Gamora tried as well. Rocket would watch them with a distasteful expression, his eyes falling back to whatever he was working on. Not once did he try.

"Wanna know what? I am not going to die like this." The human said suddenly, standing as tall as he could in the small room. He made his way over to the door, the rest of the team letting out a disappointed sigh.

"Peter, we've tried that already-" Gamora started.

"Then let's try again."

Grunting, he began pushing the doors once more, not making any difference.

"Were stuck down here, Starboy. We ain't getting out." Rocket spoke up from his project, his eyes glowing yellow in the darkness.

Peter turned around and glared at him.

"Have any better ideas? I haven't seen you try to get us out!"

He didn't reply, only glaring at his teammate before letting out a small sigh.

"Fine."

"..what?"

"Fine, I'll do something. Happy?" The raccoon growled, jumping off the rock and walking over to the door.

"What are you going to do," Drax piped in, "With your small and weak demenor, you would not be able to open that door physically."

Rocket's tail flicked in rage and he turned back to glare at the larger man.

"I will blow your flaking face off if you say one more dumbass thing."

The tattooed man opened his mouth, but Starlord met his gaze and shook his head. He wanted to see what would he do.

Rocket sized up the door, padding towards it and placing his hands on the metal. He sniffed it, grimacing at whatever he smelt, but coutinued the act anyway.

"Yep," He took a step back after a few moments, "should be easy enough."

"What do you mean, Rocket?" Gamora asked.

"I should be able to crack it open." He replied, adjusting his toolbelt.

With one flick of his wrist, it fell off. Rocket began to unzip his jumpsuit, trying to ignore his friend's gazes.

You can trust them.

"Dude, what are you doing?!" Peter said, slightly suprised at the now half naked raccoon in front of him.

Rocket tied the top half of his jumpsuit at his waist, kicking his belt to the side.

This was the first time Gamora and Drax would see his scars, and their reactions were obvious.

"What are those on your back?" Drax asked bluntly, causing all parties to look at him in shock. Rocket's face was a roller-coaster, going from fear to pain to cool anger.

"You wouldn't understand." He replied quietly after a small pause, looking at the door to hide from their stares.

Gamora's frown tightened, noticing the inflamed skin around the cybernetic enhancements. She hadn't realized how bad his were, but she always guessed from the condition the metal was that poked out from his collarbone.

Peter glared at Drax madly behind the smaller guardian's back, the other man giving him a confused look.

Their eyes all turned back to Rocket, who was now fixing something on his arm; his amber eyes still trained on the barricade. Practiced nails massaged the muscles and metal brackets underneath his skin; he hasn't needed to do this for a long time.

Breathing in, Rocket pryed his fingers into the door and tried to pull them apart with all his might.

It did nothing.

Quill sighed, thinking this might happen, "Hey, Rocket... you didn't have to-"

The sound of metal cracking broke the silence, making everyone except Rocket look for the source.

Then there was another.

And another.

"Where is that sound coming from?" Drax asked quietly.

"F-from me you d'ast idiot!" Rocket groaned, his eyes shut tight in pain as he coutinued to try to open the doors.

Peter's eyes fell to Rocket, his face full of worry underneath his mask. It took him a minute to realize the sounds were coming from the raccoon's shoulders; the sounds of the cybernetics reinforcing his natural bone were rubbing against eachother.

"Dude."

Suddenly, the door began to open slowly but surely, the metal creaking mixed in with Rocket's pained gasps.

Drax stood quickly and helped his friend open the door, the smallest guardian's cracking open one eye to look up at him. Slowly they all stood and joined in on the effort, only stopping once the walkway was clear.

Their heavy breathing was the only thing filling the dark room now. Peter taking a knee, Gamora leaning against a wall, Drax standing and smiling like a madman, and Rocket lying on the hard ground.

Sweat dripping down his tattooed body, Drax let out a hearty laugh.

"I did not expect that. Yes! Yes," He grinned, "I have opened the door."

Everyone ignored the ridiculous comment; their breath still gone.

"Holy shit...," the terran huffed and looked at his friend who was still collapsed on the ground, "How did you do that?"

There was moment of silence, till Rocket pulled his arms sorely away from his eyes.

"I was cyberneticly engineered to fly ships and carry guns twice my size," he grumbled, sitting up and pulling his jumpsuit back on, "It's necessary for me to be enduring."

"You were made to be a weapon." Gamora stated, earning only a small shrug from him.

"I guess."

Peter slowly stood, resting a hand against a rock.

Now that he thought about it, his friend had shown hints of his enhanced strength before. Not only was he holding guns that would squish a normal racoon, but Peter as well. The weapons he carries on daily had to be up to two hundred pounds, and those are his small ones!

"Well... I guess it's time to get that gem." He began slowly, returning from his daydream.

Rocket snorted and rolled his eyes, "Fuck the mission. Let's just get back to the ship and call it a day."

Nobody argued with him.

I haven't written any gotg stuff in such a long time! Man, this feels weird. I hope you guys liked it, even though it's ooc like crazy haha