It sounds harsh as hell, laid out like that in black and white. But everything is harsh, always has been, and Rocket doesn't expect bad news to come with warm fuzzies to make it hurt less like a kick in the gut. The universe doesn't give a shit about your feelings. And if this is what there is, then that's that.

He looks up at Natasha, furious sorrow in his beady eyes, and even he doesn't know what he's looking for. A hint of what he's supposed to do, maybe, some direction he could go if he chose to say no. But what else is there? Maybe Kraglin is still kicking around out there somewhere, but Rocket only knew him for like a day. He was Quill's friend, not Rocket's. Ain't no way in hell that he's gonna sign on to whatever's left of the Ravagers and live by their stupid rules, whatever they are.

But these folks... Rocket isn't used to being a hero type, except when it pays, but this is bigger than anything he's ever seen before. And his lifespan is too short to keep starting over again and again. He's spent three weeks with these folks, and what they're trying to do... well, it's either here with them, or out there with strangers lookin' to take advantage.

"I'm in, what the hell," he answers, letting out a mournful sigh. "Got nowhere else to be."

Not like he has a home to go back to, anyway. His home is right here, on this ship. Or it had been, anyway.

Outside, the fields are catching fire faster, wind fanning the flames higher, and the thunderheads above don't release a single drop of rain. It's only when embers and ash start to rain down on Thor that he finally begins to move again, his steps heavy as he slowly comes back to the ship as if in a daze. Nebula and Carol are not too far behind him, Nebula still spattered with purple smears and a blank, troubled look in her dark eyes.

Behind them, the hut begins to burn.