When Rocket returned to the cybernetics section, he bombarded the door with crates and tables despite it being a parting metal door. Cheshire was still unconscious, almost halfway finished with the IV. Rocket only took a second to gaze at the cat before searching for the crate that had Cheshire’s name labeled on it.

It was underneath the cylindrical containers that housed cybernetics skeletons. He pulled it out and opened the crate to view three, perfect-looking radiators. There was a small chest secured by a passcode. It displayed temperature—negative fifteen degrees Celsius—in a green glow at the top right corner from the lock. There was a note attached on top of it.

“X-gene product 2” the note read.

Rocket tinkered with the lock for a good minute and that’s all it took for him to surpass its codes. The small chest automatically opened, releasing frosty mists before the top lid lifted up to reveal packets of blackish fluids. Rocket wasn’t quite sure what it was so he took the printed copy of the procedure and skimmed through the page.

Apparently, the fluids were supposed to run inside the tubes of the radiators. There were two packets Rocket could only guess would be responsible for Cheshire’s assets.

Rocket closed the small chest and set it inside the trunk. He took the radiators inside his hands and at the same time looked at the printed copy of the procedure. He spent minutes rereading the words too medical for his understanding. When none of the terms registered inside his head, he realized that he couldn’t perform the procedure himself. He felt confident that he’d know how to perform it due to the involvement of machinery but it was still on the medical level at most.

He searched the room again for anything he could use to carry the materials and found a sling-bag lying on the table. Since its built was for an average Terran, Rocket had to adjust the straps so the bag would fit him nicely.

He placed the materials inside and scoured the room once again. He admitted that Alice owned some fine tech. There were class-S resources available in the cybernetics section alone—resources Nova Corp law forbade selling unlicensed. He made the most of his time as he waited for Cheshire to wake up.

There is something outside there that they would definitely face and they have to be ready for it. Rocket took out his bazooka—edges chipped off from the exposure to vaporization earlier. He was lucky that only the exterior was damaged or else it would cease to function. Being himself, he couldn’t care much about his current state. He stopped bleeding moments ago when the blood had clotted on his wounds. And he didn’t even bother cleaning them. He was much more concerned about fixing and upgrading his weapon.

He dismembered his bazooka and laid the pieces before him. He pulled out numerous crates labeled with the names he was familiar with. “Nivens Mctwisp” one crate was labeled and Rocket was grinning like an idiot as he pulled it open. He expected something he could use to upgrade the offence of his weapon but found nothing. Instead, the crate had materials for navigation.

It wasn’t completely useless. Rocket had the idea of creating a GPS based map given if the planet had satellites. Hacking into the system would be no problem for him. He pulled out another crate with “Thackery Earwicket” as the label. The crate contained something much more built for war than Mctwisp’s crate.

As Rocket gets to discover the crates in the cybernetics section, he also got to thinking why these plans were suddenly cancelled. He didn’t wish for the experimentation to befall the prisoners. He knew exactly how it was to be experimented on but if the prisoners actually allowed Alice to do her final modifications, then they would have a chance of overthrowing her. Why stop at clockwork technology? Moreover, why would Alice modify them as if to create living weapons? If her sole purpose is to bring a fictional realm into existence, then surely there is no need for advanced weaponry.

From the operating bed, the unconscious Cheshire groaned—now past halfway in finishing the intravenous. Rocket simply batted an eye to see if Cheshire would get up. His focus was more on upgrading his bazooka.

The cat seemed conscious had he opened his eyes and looked around the room. He tilted his head left and right and stopped at the direction where he saw Rocket tinkering with junk.

“Feeling better... Blue?” Rocket paused a moment before saying Cheshire’s former name. He let his question register inside the cat’s head, keenly waiting for the feline’s reaction.

Cheshire’s eyes widened and he endeavored to sit up but failed.

“Just relax,” Rocket said as he twiddled some wires. “Finish that blood packet first before you think of getting up okay…Blue?”

“Stop calling me that.” Cheshire’s voice was hoarse and faint but Rocket still understood that the cat wasn’t very happy to be called that.

Rocket paused whatever he was doing as he sighed and then got back to working. “You’re the only one that could bug me… a lot.”

“I’m bugging you?” Cheshire returned, “Who was calling who names just now?” he forced to get up on his forearms.

“I told you before,” Rocket kept his eyes on the junk he worked on rather than Cheshire. “I don’t give a damn about anybody. And you’re bugging me because somehow you made me give a damn about you.”

Cheshire was confused and he didn’t know what tone to use. His question came out in a squeak. “Is… that a good thing?”

Rocket dropped whatever he was holding and placed his hands on his laps. “Well considering it almost got us killed, no,” Rocket said eloquently with perfect sarcasm. He continued, “But that’s not the part that bugs me… what bugs me is that I want to know everything about you and somehow I feel mad when I find out you’re lying to me.”

“Rocket—”

“It’s bugging me that I want to know even the most insignificant details about you,” Rocket didn’t give Cheshire a chance to speak. “You’re getting to me so deep and I have no fricking idea why,” Rocket said through gritted teeth. And then he calmed down. “It couldn’t be because of the thing we did, could it?” he asked monotonously.

Cheshire digested everything Rocket told him and he didn’t know whether to smile (for real) or frown (figuratively). He was flattered that the raccoon was confessing to him albeit he wasn’t sure if confession was the proper term. After hearing Rocket’s question, he snapped back to reality, answering it. “Heavens, no… I mean… I don’t know. Ask yourself. I feel fine about it.”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” Rocket scratched the back of his head. “How do you feel about me?”

Cheshire no longer had a clear idea of where their conversation headed. One point it seemed as though as it headed towards a quarrel, in another it became romantic and in this point it’s just confusing.

“How do I feel about you?” Cheshire repeated. “Well it is obvious…” he flustered.

“Really?” Rocket raised an eyebrow, “Because I have no idea what.” He returned to tinkering with the junk as he thought it would be better than fidgeting his fingers.

Cheshire hesitated. He couldn’t believe how oblivious the raccoon was. Since day one he kept on flirting with Rocket and the raccoon still had no idea why. “I love you!” Cheshire yelled on impulse, overwhelmed.

Rocket froze as the echo of Cheshire’s voice repeated twice inside the room. More times faintly in the air vent. Whatever he held, he held suspended when silence took over. The quiet induced his mind to vividly repeat those three words shouting inside his head.

“Oh…” Rocket said after a while. He shook his head and went back to tinkering. “I thought you said it was obvious.”

Cheshire opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when a loud roar echoed from outside.

Rocket’s fur bristled as the picture of the beast came into his mind. He focused—moving his ears in every direction to detect sounds that might indicate where the beast would be coming from.

“Great,” Rocket spat sarcastically, “Now it probably knows where we are. Thanks a lot.”

Cheshire moved his ears as well, keenly listening. “I…I was only answering…” he kept his voice low though it was probably useless by now.

“You didn’t have to yell, you idiot.” Rocket hurried up in putting his weapon back together. He spent no more time in trying to upgrade it. Just to get it functioning was enough.

The steel floor of the room vibrated in a tempo—one…two…one…two—as the seconds went by. The vibrations became thuds then stomps, louder and louder until it could be vividly located just outside the door.

Rocket paused whatever he was doing and kept his eyes on the barricaded door. He gestured a hush signal as a reply to Cheshire who mouthed the word ‘What’ from the operating bed.

The beast was quiet and didn’t seem to move.

Rocket still had about one piece to attach on his bazooka to get it functioning. When the beast didn’t seem to be doing anything, Rocket attached the last piece, clipping it under the diaphragm of his weapon. Click—one sound it made and got an instant bellow as a reply outside the door.

Rocket muttered a curse and strapped the bazooka on his back. The beast pounded against the metal, trying to break it.

“What’s happening?” Cheshire asked.

Rocket went to the operating bed and pulled out Cheshire’s IV. “I’ll explain later,” Rocket said as he lifted the cat by the waist to get him standing on the floor. “You can stand?” he asked frantically.

Cheshire’s knees were weak but he managed to keep his balance. He nodded a reply to Rocket.

The raccoon looked around the room for another way out but the area was a one way entrance and exit. For them to get out, they have to go through the beast. It wasn’t ideal. He remembered that there was an air vent just above the operating bed. He scurried on top of it and unstrapped his bazooka, blasting the square opening.

The metal door began to give in. It bulged inwards, carving giant lumps the beast forced to push.

Rocket hurried to stack whatever was inside the room until the square opening of the vent could be high enough to jump. He first threw his bazooka and then leaped to the opening. He succeeded but not quite yet. He still has to get Cheshire with him.

“Smug-face,” Rocket peered from above.

The cat trembled on his spot, eyes fixated on the bending door.

“Come up here already!” Rocket yelled.

Cheshire gazed above and weakly, he began jumping small heights.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rocket pulled his ears down. “That thing is almost in get up here already!”

“I can’t!” Cheshire kept on jumping, “I can’t float…” Nevertheless he kept on trying. The metal door already revealed the beast trying to get in. Its eyes were hungrily fixated on the helpless feline cornered inside.

“Just climb the fricking stack!” Rocket’s eyes turned from the door to the cat. “I’ll grab you.”

Cheshire did as he was instructed but because he was still weak each movement required great effort and produced slow results.

The beast already forced half of its body inside, extending its long arm toward the fleeing cat.

When Cheshire was on top of the stack, he only needed to make a jump high enough to grab the raccoon’s hand. Bending his knees, he readied himself.

The beast pulled its body out of the metal door’s gap and seized forward, throwing the doors inward. It hit the stack, pushing Cheshire off balance before he could make his jump. The beast was still fixing itself when Cheshire fell.

Mustering great effort, Cheshire was able to force his power to activate, pushing him slightly higher midair. Rocket grabbed the feline through the fastest seconds Cheshire’s power had given. If Rocket’s reflexes weren’t as fast, the cat would have become mush against the beast’s serrated teeth.

He pulled Cheshire up by one hand and the moment Cheshire was able to sit down, he hid inside Rocket’s arms. His heart pounded against his chest—so strong that Rocket was able to feel it. Cheshire said nothing. He was shaking.

Though the beast was gigantic, it still wasn’t big enough to reach their current location. From below it circled, peering above to the preys it failed to capture.

Rocket pulled Cheshire tighter inside his embrace, brushing his hand at the back of Cheshire’s head. “Next time you want to say you love me, make sure that I’m the only one to hear it.” Rocket comforted, “That beast didn’t seem too happy about it. He must have liked me or something.”

Cheshire managed to chuckle despite his trembling however they were still far from safe. Without Cheshire’s powers, he is just a weight Rocket has to carry. And he didn’t know how much luck he had left to get him by like earlier.