✘ rachel. just rachel. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shutupmarco) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
outsiderslogs2013-04-13 10:20 am
shutupmarco) wrote in outsiderslogs2013-04-13 10:20 am
Entry tags:
OPEN;
who. Rachel (shutupmarco) and you!
what. wandering around Zeta District in confusion
where. anywhere in Zeta District
when. right now
warnings. does Rachel count as a warning
The freaky thing is that Rachel doesn't even remember getting on the shuttle. She remembers coming home to dinner late for the third time that week because of a meeting with the other Animorphs, worried she'd get chewed out or worse, grounded, but then her mother had apparently barely noticed the time and just apologized for ordering without her. She remembers the whoosh of relief, and then a bit of a pang realizing that her cousin Jake probably wasn't getting off so easily with his mom, and -- then what? She can't remember.
They're ushered off the shuttle before she really has a chance to take any of it in. Rachel falls into step with everyone else as the offload into the seething crowds of Omega, realizes with a flutter of panic all at once that she doesn't see any of the others and also they're in space. This is some kind of space station, or maybe a giant ship. What the hell.
For a moment, she thinks it's the Yeerks. That this is some kind of Controller base ship she's somehow gotten stuck on. But while she sees plenty of humans, she doesn't see any Taxxons or Hork-Bajir, just a whole host of different alien-looking creatures she's never seen anything like before. The place doesn't seem very Yeerk-like, either. Is it an Ellimist trick? Maybe. It's too hard to tell.
She thinks all of this in the space of a few seconds, before she realizes all of the people off the shuttle are being directed one way by a group of nasty thug-looking aliens in armor, a couple of equally unpleasant-looking humans among them. "All new arrivals to Zeta District," they snarl, over and over again. Rachel brushes her hair from her face and puts on a neutral smile, walking as she's directed like she belongs there. On the inside, she's trying not to puke from panic. She's got no idea what this place is, or what all of these aliens are, or why she's here, but she's going to find out.
shutupmarco) and you!what. wandering around Zeta District in confusion
where. anywhere in Zeta District
when. right now
warnings. does Rachel count as a warning
The freaky thing is that Rachel doesn't even remember getting on the shuttle. She remembers coming home to dinner late for the third time that week because of a meeting with the other Animorphs, worried she'd get chewed out or worse, grounded, but then her mother had apparently barely noticed the time and just apologized for ordering without her. She remembers the whoosh of relief, and then a bit of a pang realizing that her cousin Jake probably wasn't getting off so easily with his mom, and -- then what? She can't remember.
They're ushered off the shuttle before she really has a chance to take any of it in. Rachel falls into step with everyone else as the offload into the seething crowds of Omega, realizes with a flutter of panic all at once that she doesn't see any of the others and also they're in space. This is some kind of space station, or maybe a giant ship. What the hell.
For a moment, she thinks it's the Yeerks. That this is some kind of Controller base ship she's somehow gotten stuck on. But while she sees plenty of humans, she doesn't see any Taxxons or Hork-Bajir, just a whole host of different alien-looking creatures she's never seen anything like before. The place doesn't seem very Yeerk-like, either. Is it an Ellimist trick? Maybe. It's too hard to tell.
She thinks all of this in the space of a few seconds, before she realizes all of the people off the shuttle are being directed one way by a group of nasty thug-looking aliens in armor, a couple of equally unpleasant-looking humans among them. "All new arrivals to Zeta District," they snarl, over and over again. Rachel brushes her hair from her face and puts on a neutral smile, walking as she's directed like she belongs there. On the inside, she's trying not to puke from panic. She's got no idea what this place is, or what all of these aliens are, or why she's here, but she's going to find out.
stiles the human punchinbag he's like that one guy from neopets
So it's obvious Stiles doesn't really like having the gun pointed in his face, swallowing a little and raising his hands. But it doesn't shut him up, and he also doesn't leave.
"Guys, come on, seriously, there's got to be way better targets than her. Who's gonna come looking for some skinny kid?" He gestures to Rachel behind him, hoping this works and that he doesn't end up getting shot, or kicked becuase he's disparaging her. "Do we look like we're gonna get you noticed if you shoot us?"
lmfkjhjfk
"No, you don't," the batarian sneers back, letting out an ugly laugh. "Which is exactly why you're perfect for target practice."
"You know," Rachel says in a low voice, leaning forward so Stiles can hear her, "if you were trying to save me, uh, thanks? But seriously, no thanks."
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"Look, you want to be skinny or you want to be full of bullet holes?" He gives her a look like she shouldn't really need to think about which is worse, before he turns back to the batarians, and the more dakka that they've pulled out.
"Whoa, guys, take a chill pill all right? Are we even worth target practice, I mean, hell, I'm skinny, there's not much target to practice on."
Still, he curls his fingers around the strap of the bag of groceries. He's got a vague plan if they don't back down after this.
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"Scrawny?" Rachel repeats, her voice rising half an octave.
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Once the bag is in the air he's turning and push-pulling at Rachel, nearly yelping out the word "Run!" as if he's in a bad action comedy. But it does work, a little - in the sense that they're able to get a good few feet on the batarians before the shooting starts.
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"Can we even outrun those things?" Rachel demands in between huffed breaths. "I mean, do you have a plan here?"
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"A plan?" He stumbles over his own feet but keeps going, "Running away was the plan!" He takes another few feet of running to consider. "Our apartment has a lock, I think."
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So Rachel thinks quick. She grabs Stiles roughly by the wrist and jerks him into an alley ripe with the smell of decomposing food and waste, on account of the fact that most of the alley is packed with dumpsters. Sanitation really needs to come by here and do something about all the trash, Rachel thinks as she practically skids behind a dumpster, dragging Stiles with her.
"They're gonna catch up to us," she informs him, keeping her voice low, and she swallows down a deep breath. Their options are limited, here. If Stiles had a weapon, he'd have used it, and even so, he threw his bag at the batarians already. God, what a dumb move. Of course, the one she's considering is dumber. But if she doesn't do anything, they're going to wind up as a couple of smears on the ground here.
"All right," she says after a moment, tugging off her cardigan. "I'm gonna save our butts, okay? But you have to promise me something."
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"No duh, especially here," Stiles tells her, rubbing hs shoulder a little, nervous. He can hear the voices of the batarians, shouting about how they went this way. Then he pauses when she pulls off her cardigan.
"Why are you taking your clothes off?" He asks, voice going high again, and wondering how the hell stripping is supposed to save their butts. But when he looks at her face she seems serious so he nods once. "If it actually helps us, you got it, bucko."
god dammit i dont have any hork-bajir icons oops
"Hold onto these for me, will you?" she says, crumpling up her jeans and shoving them at him. It's a little chilly in the alley with only a leotard on, but in a minute, she won't be so cold. Grizzly bears are adequately protected with all that fur. But wait -- no. Grizzly might be too conspicuous on a space station. Elephant even more so, and not exactly great for a relatively confined space. There aren't any Hork-Bajir on this station, but it'd fit in a lot better with all the aliens here.
She draws in a breath through her nose and focuses on the Hork-Bajir DNA she acquired not too long ago. Morphing is rarely pretty and never predictable, and this time the first change is Rachel's face shooting suddenly forward to form the snakelike head of the Hork-Bajir. Her toes and fingers fuse together, then split apart and harden to form talons and claws. The rest of her is still all fleshy and pink, even as she starts to grow taller and her bones rearrange themselves to Hork-Bajir physiology, and a long, bladed tail shoots out from her back. Finally, her skin starts to toughen and thicken into leather, turning a dark, dark green, and the assorted blades, natural and deadly, begin to grow from her wrists, elbows, knees, even her head. It only takes a minute or two from start to finish, and when it's complete, it isn't a fourteen year old girl looking at Stiles -- it's a seven-foot-tall lizard-like alien with a snakelike beak and a bunch of deadly-looking blades sprouting from its body. And when Rachel speaks to him, it's not with her mouth, but with thought-speak, targeting the words directly to Stiles' mind.
<Do me a favor, okay? Don't freak out.>
screeches more
If she could knock thugs around, why wait until now to do it?
He gets his answer when her face shoots out, and Stiles can't help it - he backs up against the dumpster a little, completely shocked even after all he's seen. Then his mind runs into overdrive, of course.
Is she something like Derek, Scott and the others? She doesn't look like a wolf, though, very quickly, and he wonders if it's something else. If she's something like a changeling from Star Trek, like Odo.
The batarians are shouting about them being in the alley but Stiles' saucer-sized eyes are focused on the morphed Rachel.
He hears her voice in his head and that makes his jaw, which dropped when she started, snap back up.
"I'm not freaking out," he says, but his voice cracks once. Then he shakes his head and gives her a tight grin. "Knock 'em out, tiger."
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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.
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It's frightening, and puts his opinion of her in a whole different perspective. His jaw is back to hanging open by the time she sags back against the dumpster and starts changing back.
"Are you okay?" is the first thing he ends up saying to her, because it looked like she had a lot of bullet holes in her before and now? Not so much, although she does look a little pale.
However, it's quickly followed up with, "How the hell did you do that?"
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"Remember the part where you have to keep this a secret? The less you know, the better. I still don't know how safe this place is."
Safe from whom, that's the real question, of course. Rachel's almost certain that the Yeerks aren't involved here, but at the same time, she doesn't know if she can risk publicly showcasing her morphing ability. It seems like this universe is totally separate from her own, but...she hasn't been here that long, still.
"Can I have my clothes back now?"
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"I can keep a secret, dude. Consider it locked and the key thrown away," he tells her. "Though, you can't blame a dude for asking, because seriously, that was awesome."
Her next question makes him turn a little red, and he fumbles handing over her clothes.
"Do you want your pants - or shirt - god here, just have it all."
He pushes them into her hands, waiting for her to redress. Once she is, he clears his throat.
"So, did you just get here?"
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She flashes him a quick grin, a little tight, eyebrows raised. At least he's dropping the subject, which...is a little weird, but she'll find out about him soon enough. "Is it that obvious?"
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Still, this place is as safe as any right now, so he stays crouched while he talks to her.
"Well, no offense, most of us don't go around picking fights with Batarians," he says, and then, to clairify, "Those dudes you just beat up. They don't really like humans."
He raises his hands, waving them a little. "Welcome to Omega, and all that jazz." It's a sarcasm-laden statement. "It's a station on an asteroid in space, full of aliens and criminals and oh, us."
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Okay, okay, so making jokes is really Marco's thing, but bravado is Rachel's. She refuses to show she's scared -- especially to some other kid like her, even if he is a couple of years older -- so she'll play it cool.
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"They do have normal clothes, but armor is all the rage right now," he continues. "Also, aliens, wow, that makes whatever you turned into earlier make sense."
He glances at her, and while he can't see that she's scared, he remembers how he felt when he first arrived.
"Do you have anywhere to stay yet?" He asks, and then awkwardly continues, "I mean, we've got room in our apartment. And wow, that probably sounds creepy, but it's legit, we can call my room mate if you want. You can just crash for the night or however long you need."
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"Let me get this straight," Rachel says slowly, every word dripping with the subtle suggestion that Stiles has more than one head. "You just watched me turn into a seven-foot-tall lizard alien covered in blades, rip apart a bunch of aliens, and now you're inviting me to couch surf?"
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"Consider it guaranteed security. And if you were planning on killing me, I doubt you'd have stopped to argue with some Batarians," he adds. He's dying to know more about what she is, and he knows she's probably confused as to why he's not freaking out, but, well, he's been through a lot that makes this shit seem tame.
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"Okay, so what, you let me crash with you, and that's it? Seriously, what's the catch?"
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Stiles is silent, and then, "Also, my room mate is kind of a diva, so, there's that - aww man, the groceries..."
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Ugh, whatever. Forget about him. If this guy is really offering her a place to stay, she can't exactly refuse, can she? And she's confident that if this is some kind of trap, whatever it is, she can handle it. The guy just watched her go Hork-Bajir. Not exactly a pretty sight.
"All right, fine," Rachel says, smoothing her hands over her jeans. "I could use a place to crash. But you know you haven't even told me your name, right?"
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"Sorry. Running for my life, watching you, kind of slipped my mind," Stiles says with a dry undercurrent, offering a hand. "Stiles Stilinski. Just Stiles is fine. And uh, you are?"
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