Rachel can't help but laugh in private thought-speak, flexing her Hork-Bajir arm. Those guys had guns, but she could be pretty fast with these blades. Get them in the weak spots in their armor, and they'd go down in no time.
<You're not as much of a wimp as I thought you were,> she says, a smirk to her thought-speak voice. <Stay put. I'll take care of these goons.>
And she takes off, aiming to cut the batarians off before they can reach the alley and see Stiles. They're not expecting her to come at them, blades swinging. She manages to take one of them down before any of them can think to shoot, and he goes down with a snarling groan, and then they open fire. Hot bullets pierce the Hork-Bajir's leathery skin, but Rachel ignores the pain like she always does, knowing it'll be gone when she demorphs. She isn't even aiming to kill, just to knock them down, but if she lets herself get carried away, well, who would blame her? They would've killed her and Stiles for sure if she hadn't done anything.
Maybe it's that street brawls are pretty common here, or maybe everyone else is just too weirded out by the strange new alien who fights without a gun, or maybe it's just because the odds were against her begin with, but nobody comes rushing forward to help the batarians. When the last of them goes down, most of them are still breathing, but all of them are pretty bloodied up.
"What the hell is that thing," one of them manages to groan, straining for his gun, but it's too far out of reach. Rachel just tosses her snakelike head, glaring down at all of them.
<Next time, you really ought to think twice about picking on a couple of kids,> she advises them, maybe a little smugly. <Because if there's a next time, you won't get off so easily.>
She'd linger and taunt them some more, maybe add some more insult to injury, but the Hork-Bajir body is wounded, badly enough that she's limping when she gets back to the alley. Nobody follows her, thankfully. She has a feeling that people on Omega don't get too curious unless they're willing to to face the consequences of their curiosity with a gun. Rachel lets out a low groan in her Hork-Bajir voice as she sags down against the dumpster next to Stiles, her breathing ragged, but she's already demorphing as rapidly as she can, human features overtaking Hork-Bajir ones, and when it's done she's back in her black leotard, crouching on the ground next to Stiles.
"Well, that was fun," she says brightly, still a little out of breath.
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<You're not as much of a wimp as I thought you were,> she says, a smirk to her thought-speak voice. <Stay put. I'll take care of these goons.>
And she takes off, aiming to cut the batarians off before they can reach the alley and see Stiles. They're not expecting her to come at them, blades swinging. She manages to take one of them down before any of them can think to shoot, and he goes down with a snarling groan, and then they open fire. Hot bullets pierce the Hork-Bajir's leathery skin, but Rachel ignores the pain like she always does, knowing it'll be gone when she demorphs. She isn't even aiming to kill, just to knock them down, but if she lets herself get carried away, well, who would blame her? They would've killed her and Stiles for sure if she hadn't done anything.
Maybe it's that street brawls are pretty common here, or maybe everyone else is just too weirded out by the strange new alien who fights without a gun, or maybe it's just because the odds were against her begin with, but nobody comes rushing forward to help the batarians. When the last of them goes down, most of them are still breathing, but all of them are pretty bloodied up.
"What the hell is that thing," one of them manages to groan, straining for his gun, but it's too far out of reach. Rachel just tosses her snakelike head, glaring down at all of them.
<Next time, you really ought to think twice about picking on a couple of kids,> she advises them, maybe a little smugly. <Because if there's a next time, you won't get off so easily.>
She'd linger and taunt them some more, maybe add some more insult to injury, but the Hork-Bajir body is wounded, badly enough that she's limping when she gets back to the alley. Nobody follows her, thankfully. She has a feeling that people on Omega don't get too curious unless they're willing to to face the consequences of their curiosity with a gun. Rachel lets out a low groan in her Hork-Bajir voice as she sags down against the dumpster next to Stiles, her breathing ragged, but she's already demorphing as rapidly as she can, human features overtaking Hork-Bajir ones, and when it's done she's back in her black leotard, crouching on the ground next to Stiles.
"Well, that was fun," she says brightly, still a little out of breath.