(Untitled)
Who: Gaheris Rhade and Rachel Berenson
What: Another thread that's entirely too short.
When: Early this morning.
Where: The Deck
Warnings & Notes: Creepiness and mild violence.
( Fear is the mother of morality. -Friedrich Nietzsche )
What: Another thread that's entirely too short.
When: Early this morning.
Where: The Deck
Warnings & Notes: Creepiness and mild violence.
( Fear is the mother of morality. -Friedrich Nietzsche )
She had to save them. AS many of them as possible, human or not human and this individual was...not human in the slightest. Long curved blades coming from his elbows, intense thoughtful look.
This Will Graham wouldn't be the best choice for it. So she stepped back and away and pulled out Carl Applegate's clothes. It took less then a minute for her to morph.
She was big and powerful and far more confident. One of the more useful things that she'd grabbed had been Graham's gun.
She wouldn't use it. She'd never use it unless the last possible resort, but at this point she wanted to tear things apart with her bare hands. Preferrably with claws.
A smile tugged at Applegate's face as he took up a space a bit to the side of Rhade. Ash flakes settled in his hair hands clenched on the railing.
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And it was her. Him. Her.
His nostrils flared, mismatched scent taking priority over the lingering odor of death and those boneblades flared out at the sides. "Are you doing this?" It came out more like an accusation than a question. He wasn't who he looked like. He was someone else. She. Him.
It didn't matter. Whatever was in front of him was a lie and everything around him was a threat. With a swift jerk those bony protrusions were near her throat, sharp and threatening.
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In one smooth motion, Rachel had it out and pressed against his temple.
"Am I doing this? No. No."
"I'm trying to stop this. I'm trying to save you. The yeerks are doing this."
She cocked the gun, "I have to help you."
She sounded almost...regretful.
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The hair on the back of his neck stood on end again. They were watching them. The muscles along his neck tensed with a hard swallow, like he was gulping down his entire sense of pride.
"And you're not what I'm looking at." He raised his hands as he stepped back slowly, palms out and in (temporary) surrender.
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Rachel kept the gun trained on him.
"...I do not want to do this. But they're doing something to all of you. Human and Alien and I have to stop them. It's for your own good."
Get on your knees.
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But he was willing to kill his best friend to get rid of them. A man that was practically a member of his Pride, that he half-heartedly tried to block from getting too close. Was this the sort of soldier the Magog had made him?
"If you don't want to do it, then don't do it. You'll regret it. I promise you, you'll regret it." He lowered as indicated, resting on the grungy deck, uniform slacks collecting soot and was unable to shake that feeling of being watched.
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"...I'm not going to kill you." She sounded slightly affronted, "Unless you make me angry."
She glanced quickly over her shoulder again. Keeping the gun trained on his temple she cocked the trigger, "I'm going to save you. And when the yeerk is out of your brain you will thank me."
Her gaze met his. She projected an outward look of solidarity, of calm. However a seasoned warrior, a soldier might see that there's fear.
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An uneasy calm set in. He would wait. "If you're going to pull the trigger, pull the trigger. But the longer you keep me on my knees the angrier I'm going to get."
There would be an opening if he waited long enough. But he wanted her to get them off the deck. To fire and announce that weapon. To get them the fuck away.
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"I'll show you angry."
She flipped it so it was pistol up and brought it down as hard as she could on Rhade's temple.
"Mother fucker."
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As he blacked out, there were whispers again.
He almost imagined he could understand the words. Maybe it was all in his head.
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"...I'm sorry."
She was, "You'll understand. You really will."
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