Quite Probably Murderous
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Summary: The continuing adventures of undead!Laura and her brain craving horde.
Warnings: Aside from being utterly ridiculous, this story does contain violence, cannobolism, and what basically amounts to cannobolism.
Notes: All aboard the crack!train, choo-choo! A continuation of Quite Probably Dead
-
The sky had just started to lighten with the dawn when they reached the city. Laura let the shambling people pull ahead of her, eyes eagerly trained on the closest building. Tom let go of her hand to move ahead, determined to be where the action was.
The outpost they found was manned by cylons. The skinjobs shouted and screamed orders at their approach, but the centurions didn't seem able to recognize them as targets.
Being apparently dead had its perks, and once everyone realized the tall killing machines weren't about to gun them down (again); they descended up the two Fives and a Three that were stationed there.
Wild bullets chased through the air into bodies that felt nothing. Fingers and bones that should not have been able to move with muscles and skin so unresponsive, simply curled into fists and claws; tearing down their enemies. There was power in their simplicity of thought and action. They tore the cylons to pieces because they had hands and pulled. Where their strength was from, where the familiar voices from their broken chests emanated, didn't matter.
There was just one important thing.
Brains.
The hungry horde around Laura seemed displeased with what they had, even though it was one greater than their last meal. One frustrated individual even took a gun from the security outpost and shot the centurions in the neck, destroying their processors and sending them crashing to the crowd.
The sight caused a cheer to go around the crowd, but they were quickly back to discussing the more important matter at hand: brains. Namely, procuring more than the three available.
Laura took off her bulky blue jacket, peeling off a slightly bloody, but fashionable, coat from the Three on the ground.
“Everyone,” she shouted over the cry of 'brains, where are the brains?'. “Those cylons have already downloaded, meaning more security is likely on it's way over.”
Silence fell immediately.
“We need to keep moving,” she continued. “So, anyone not willing to eat the cylons needs to start going now.”
Tom held up her new coat, and Laura nodded her thanks as she slipped it on.
A hand rose from the back of the crowd.
Children, she thought with an irritating fondness. “Yes?”
“If we don't want to eat the cylons, does that mean we get to eat the humans?”
Humans.
A tense current of possibility gripped them all. Were they now going to be defined as something other? Laura mulled it over. They seemed to have accepted her as leader, were at least following her at any rate, and whatever she said was likely to be taken to heart; or to whatever remained in their chests. Until they got too hungry. Should they murder their own kind? Were they their own kind?
She tapped her finger on her lip before noticing a greasy stain of fat from the last brain portion she had eaten, and quickly sucked the digit into her mouth.
A low murmur began to rise in the crowd at the expression on her face.
Damn, brains were tasty.
“I think,” she began, pulling her finger form her mouth and causing silence to fall again. “We should check to make sure these brains are just as good as the others.”
“A temporary solution at best,” Tom muttered from her side.
“I know,” she huffed. “It's a big step, splintering off from humanity. I think there should be time to think it over.”
“I don't think this crowd will want to spend a lot of time debating.”
Two people had stepped forward, easily splitting the Three's skull between them. Delicately, one popped out an eye, scooped a small smattering of brains on top of it, and handed it to Laura with a smile.
She took it, humming appreciatively. Her people knew her so well already.
Her people. They were already so different from those who dwelled within the city, and not just because they had been carted off to be killed.
Laura thought about taking a delicate nibble, but the treat smelled too good and she popped the whole squelchy morsel into her mouth in one go. The horde had their eyes locked on her as she chewed, moaning low at the taste. Someone in the crowd shuffled awkwardly and whimpered 'brains'.
She swallowed.
“Well?” Tom's voice was surprisingly breathy for someone who had coughed up their lungs onto the ground a few hours ago.
“Not bad,” Laura concluded. “Sort of a burnt, electrical after taste.”
Intrigued and hungry eyes peered down at the cylon bodies.
Another hand rose into the air.
“Yes?” She asked, running her tongue along her teeth, trying to catch more of the flavor from her quick treat. A thick, spongy segment of lung came free instead.
“Even if they taste good, what if we don't want to eat the cylons on principle?”
“It's good to have principles,” Tom piped up from her side.
She glowered at him. “Alright,” Laura spoke to the crowd. “If you don't want to eat cylons on principle,” she hesitated for a moment before concluding. “Then limit yourself to only eating the humans in NCP uniforms.”
This compromise seemed to please everyone, as most people had been pulled from their homes by such men and women to be executed.
“What if we don't want to eat humans, either?” Yet another voice persisted.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What do you want to eat instead?”
“Dog.”
There were a few giggles and speculative murmurs from the horde.
“If you can find a dog,” Laura reasoned, “and feel inclined to eat dog, then eat the dog.” Children. She smiled, hands on her hips as she watched many move to enter the city. A small contingent stayed behind, scooping up cylon brains and debating the difference in taste to the human (mostly human?) brains they had earlier.
“So,” Tom stepped up to her side. “How are you inclined?”
Laura's smiled curled into a wicked smirk, eyes straying to the ship yard in the distance. “I believe I incline towards President.”
Tom chuckled. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” She tucked her broken glasses into her new coat pocket, wondering how cylons got such fine clothing. Had they raided all the boutiques on Caprica after bombing the place? They didn't seem the type to sit and make their own clothes, which led Laura to the strange mental image of a centurion bent over a sewing machine.
She stifled a giggle, but Tom was close enough to hear it anyway. He cocked his head to the side, silently asking what was so funny; causing the patch of torn skin to shift, revealing a different segment of his skull.
Screams arose in the distance, drawing both their attentions.
“We'd better hurry,” Tom sighed. “If we wait too long, he won't be nearly as surprised as he should be when he sees us.”
“No,” Laura agreed. “He won't.”
When he reached to take her hand, his fingers sank into the cut on her wrist instead. He quickly readjusted his grip so that his fingers were laced with hers, rather than her tendons.
Laura thought about brains, Baltar's in particular, and pulled Tom forward into the blooming chaos.
-
Brains? | Brains!
Summary: The continuing adventures of undead!Laura and her brain craving horde.
Warnings: Aside from being utterly ridiculous, this story does contain violence, cannobolism, and what basically amounts to cannobolism.
Notes: All aboard the crack!train, choo-choo! A continuation of Quite Probably Dead
-
The sky had just started to lighten with the dawn when they reached the city. Laura let the shambling people pull ahead of her, eyes eagerly trained on the closest building. Tom let go of her hand to move ahead, determined to be where the action was.
The outpost they found was manned by cylons. The skinjobs shouted and screamed orders at their approach, but the centurions didn't seem able to recognize them as targets.
Being apparently dead had its perks, and once everyone realized the tall killing machines weren't about to gun them down (again); they descended up the two Fives and a Three that were stationed there.
Wild bullets chased through the air into bodies that felt nothing. Fingers and bones that should not have been able to move with muscles and skin so unresponsive, simply curled into fists and claws; tearing down their enemies. There was power in their simplicity of thought and action. They tore the cylons to pieces because they had hands and pulled. Where their strength was from, where the familiar voices from their broken chests emanated, didn't matter.
There was just one important thing.
Brains.
The hungry horde around Laura seemed displeased with what they had, even though it was one greater than their last meal. One frustrated individual even took a gun from the security outpost and shot the centurions in the neck, destroying their processors and sending them crashing to the crowd.
The sight caused a cheer to go around the crowd, but they were quickly back to discussing the more important matter at hand: brains. Namely, procuring more than the three available.
Laura took off her bulky blue jacket, peeling off a slightly bloody, but fashionable, coat from the Three on the ground.
“Everyone,” she shouted over the cry of 'brains, where are the brains?'. “Those cylons have already downloaded, meaning more security is likely on it's way over.”
Silence fell immediately.
“We need to keep moving,” she continued. “So, anyone not willing to eat the cylons needs to start going now.”
Tom held up her new coat, and Laura nodded her thanks as she slipped it on.
A hand rose from the back of the crowd.
Children, she thought with an irritating fondness. “Yes?”
“If we don't want to eat the cylons, does that mean we get to eat the humans?”
Humans.
A tense current of possibility gripped them all. Were they now going to be defined as something other? Laura mulled it over. They seemed to have accepted her as leader, were at least following her at any rate, and whatever she said was likely to be taken to heart; or to whatever remained in their chests. Until they got too hungry. Should they murder their own kind? Were they their own kind?
She tapped her finger on her lip before noticing a greasy stain of fat from the last brain portion she had eaten, and quickly sucked the digit into her mouth.
A low murmur began to rise in the crowd at the expression on her face.
Damn, brains were tasty.
“I think,” she began, pulling her finger form her mouth and causing silence to fall again. “We should check to make sure these brains are just as good as the others.”
“A temporary solution at best,” Tom muttered from her side.
“I know,” she huffed. “It's a big step, splintering off from humanity. I think there should be time to think it over.”
“I don't think this crowd will want to spend a lot of time debating.”
Two people had stepped forward, easily splitting the Three's skull between them. Delicately, one popped out an eye, scooped a small smattering of brains on top of it, and handed it to Laura with a smile.
She took it, humming appreciatively. Her people knew her so well already.
Her people. They were already so different from those who dwelled within the city, and not just because they had been carted off to be killed.
Laura thought about taking a delicate nibble, but the treat smelled too good and she popped the whole squelchy morsel into her mouth in one go. The horde had their eyes locked on her as she chewed, moaning low at the taste. Someone in the crowd shuffled awkwardly and whimpered 'brains'.
She swallowed.
“Well?” Tom's voice was surprisingly breathy for someone who had coughed up their lungs onto the ground a few hours ago.
“Not bad,” Laura concluded. “Sort of a burnt, electrical after taste.”
Intrigued and hungry eyes peered down at the cylon bodies.
Another hand rose into the air.
“Yes?” She asked, running her tongue along her teeth, trying to catch more of the flavor from her quick treat. A thick, spongy segment of lung came free instead.
“Even if they taste good, what if we don't want to eat the cylons on principle?”
“It's good to have principles,” Tom piped up from her side.
She glowered at him. “Alright,” Laura spoke to the crowd. “If you don't want to eat cylons on principle,” she hesitated for a moment before concluding. “Then limit yourself to only eating the humans in NCP uniforms.”
This compromise seemed to please everyone, as most people had been pulled from their homes by such men and women to be executed.
“What if we don't want to eat humans, either?” Yet another voice persisted.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What do you want to eat instead?”
“Dog.”
There were a few giggles and speculative murmurs from the horde.
“If you can find a dog,” Laura reasoned, “and feel inclined to eat dog, then eat the dog.” Children. She smiled, hands on her hips as she watched many move to enter the city. A small contingent stayed behind, scooping up cylon brains and debating the difference in taste to the human (mostly human?) brains they had earlier.
“So,” Tom stepped up to her side. “How are you inclined?”
Laura's smiled curled into a wicked smirk, eyes straying to the ship yard in the distance. “I believe I incline towards President.”
Tom chuckled. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” She tucked her broken glasses into her new coat pocket, wondering how cylons got such fine clothing. Had they raided all the boutiques on Caprica after bombing the place? They didn't seem the type to sit and make their own clothes, which led Laura to the strange mental image of a centurion bent over a sewing machine.
She stifled a giggle, but Tom was close enough to hear it anyway. He cocked his head to the side, silently asking what was so funny; causing the patch of torn skin to shift, revealing a different segment of his skull.
Screams arose in the distance, drawing both their attentions.
“We'd better hurry,” Tom sighed. “If we wait too long, he won't be nearly as surprised as he should be when he sees us.”
“No,” Laura agreed. “He won't.”
When he reached to take her hand, his fingers sank into the cut on her wrist instead. He quickly readjusted his grip so that his fingers were laced with hers, rather than her tendons.
Laura thought about brains, Baltar's in particular, and pulled Tom forward into the blooming chaos.
-
Brains? | Brains!