By the time the maintenance robots returned, Groot wasn’t on the shelf. He was halfway across the room, marching toward the window to see the stars, leaving a trail of happy little footprints in the dust.

For weeks, Baby Groot had been the Sovereign’s most pampered ornamental plant. He had a nice patch of dirt, a steady supply of artificial sunlight, and a crew of robots that buffed his leaves until they shone like emeralds. But Groot was bored. His roots were itching, and his world was only as wide as the shelf he sat on. Then came the intruder: a .

The crash was deafening. The ceramic shattered into a million orange shards, scattering his precious soil across the cold floor.

He was no longer a captive of the soil. He was a Guardian in the making.

When the robots placed the new plant next to him, Groot’s little wooden heart sank. It was pristine. It didn’t have any stray twigs or dirt under its fingernails. Worst of all, the robots began giving the bonsai his favorite nutrient-rich water.

One root snapped away from the central cluster. Then another. He fashioned them into two shaky, uneven legs. He took a breath, whispered a determined "I am Groot," and took a step.

Groot lay in the wreckage, gasping. For the first time since his rebirth, his roots were exposed to the open air. He felt small and vulnerable. But as he looked up at the towering shelf, a spark of defiance lit up in his eyes. He didn't want to be a decoration anymore.