Rocket really wanted to smash Drax to death with a stick, but he couldn't.
Not only couldn't he do that, he was also rushing to support Drax. So right now, he hated three people: Star-Lord, Gamora, and himself.
At such a critical moment, that scummy couple had actually gone off traveling together. That was right—in Rocket's eyes, the two of them had gone to reunite with family while sightseeing.
If Star-Lord and Gamora had been here, things would not have turned out like this.
Anyone familiar with MOBA games would know that when a tank charged into the enemy formation alone or became separated from their teammates, the most likely outcome was being kited or crowd-controlled to death.
After the first wave of enemies had underestimated him, Drax had very few chances to engage in close combat. When he did, it was against equally tough and heavily armored Star Hunters, with extremely annoying ranged support backing them up.
As for why he hated himself?
It was simple. Rocket knew perfectly well that Yondu was deliberately stringing Drax along. Even when he could have captured him alive, he had not done so. He was using Drax as bait to draw out the other members of the Guardians of the Galaxy.
This was the question Yondu had set before them.
For Rocket, the right answer was to ignore whether Drax lived or died and hide immediately. As for whether to rescue Drax or do nothing after hiding, that would be a matter for later.
The problem was that Rocket knew what the right answer was, yet he couldn't bring himself to choose it.
That was why he hated himself.
Being a despicable creature would probably make life easier and happier in the gray world of the galaxy...
Yondu was using an open