—I don't think you're the bad one. I don't even think either of us can be good or bad —. They had done so many bad things throughout their lives that Nebula didn't even seek to define herself in one category. She just was and existed, with demons in her head. Even knowing her imperfections, she couldn't help feeling the unease and the constant thought of improving to one day be at Gamora's level, one that her sister had achieved by trying less than the robotic one.
She cleared her throat, adjusting her jacket pocket, settling the issue. —Ronan is looking for you.
Gamora’s face, for a split second, showed a glint of surprise. There was also something else. Something that she didn’t even know how to name—. I’ve bested you in combat most of my life —she started, fully aware of the results those encounters could’ve caused— but if you were more perceptive of your insecurities, you’d know that’s not me. It’s you who thinks I’m the bad one here.
Because it was easier to think that. That Gamora wasn’t as ruthless as Thanos. Perhaps she was. That’s when she understood she was also full of guiltiness. That was her “something else”.
She turned her face to her right, unable to say what she was thinking. She felt that her sister was being condescending to her. And hated it. —I am not inferior to you, but you look at me as if I am. You always have —.
