bakerstreet | The Aliens Meme

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[warning] violence

The Aliens Meme

THE ALIENS MEME

People always wondered if there was intelligent life out there beyond our solar system. Well lucky us, there is. But take away the lucky part and we're left with an alien race that wants nothing more than to use our bodies as incubators for their babies. If not out right kill us. They're intelligent and adapt to situations to overcome what is thrown at them and will do everything to find you. Once they do, who can say what will happen.

Either way. You're going to die.

Unless you can escape.

HERE'S WHAT TO DO:

Post with your character (name and fandom in the subject).
Other people reply and they become your 'team' the survivors trying to escape.
Work together, or don't, to outsmart the Xenomorphs (the aliens).
You will also run into these little suckers, and if they catch you they'll cling to your face, implanting an alien baby inside you. Have fun with that. They're hard to get off as their tail wraps around your throat, usually to knock the victim out to make them easier to handle.
Get to an escape pod on the ship you're on, or blow up the ship. Maybe you all die. Either way, have fun!
WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEATHS AND CREEPY ALIENS!

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Keeping Banner from "hulking out" is the least of your worries, Tony. There's a slathering monster that wants to lay eggs in your chest back there. Woe to you if it decides Banner looks like a better incubator, though, considering what the Other Guy did to bullets...

... imagine what he'll do when some sort of alien ovipositor is shoved down Banner's throat. Talk about going from Zero to Green Rage Monster in .6 seconds.

For now, though, Bruce is also in hot pursuit of Stark, and thankfully, being a dweeby nerd on the run has made him really good at running from a fight, to say the least.

The doors ahead are closing, though-- and with a last-ditch burst of speed Bruce lurches forward, puts a solid hand to Tony's back and pushes. At least one of them needs to make the bay doors before everything in the coordinator goes up in nitro...

...and face it, the Other Guy might be able to survive a vacuum, but Tony can't without the suit.

That little extra push comes very unexpected and Tony catches himself on the wall that creates a T-junction with the corridor he was just pushed through before he turns to grab Banner by the forearm and tug.

They'll end up as a heap on the floor just as the doors close and something very large and very angry thumbs against the pressurized seal the air-tight doors created behind them. Tony pushes up at Bruce by one shoulder so he can lift his head and gaze over it before dissolving into laughter.

"Ha!" Yes, the man's humor is based solely on nearly dying, it seems, and coming away with only a few bumps.

Banner's saved him yet again. He's going to start owing the man something if he doesn't cut it out soon, though.

Don't mind Bruce.

He's just going to lay there and think of acceptable levels of anger and shock. He's trying not to go green at any moment because it's not going to help anybody.

It's a lot harder than it looks, honestly.

"Now what?" Ignore the growl in his voice, Tony, he's got a grip.... however tentative it may be.

Yeah, right. Tony's fingers find a pulse on Bruce's neck, which isn't as creepy as it looks, and lightly massages it. Now, that is creepy, but he knows very well how arterial massage can affect heart rate and regulate it and one of them is still thinking clearly at the moment. His head slumps back onto the rough, high traffic carpet that lines the hall floor and tries to puzzle an answer out to Bruce's question.

"We have to find a way to get around the infested area to the cockpit." Obviously. "I'll try to tap into the computer again for maps. There's got to be some ducts. Don't tell Barton, but I actually wish he was here for once."

Bruce doesn't even argue with the somewhat intimate touch, even as his heartrate slows. But he lays there, listening to Tony talk and focusing on his tone of voice at first, and then his words.

"... I'm not sure he's got an arrow for this," he admits. But he swallows once, and then adds: "Ducts are a bad idea for me. You maybe, but..."

All they need is him in a tiny space, something going wrong, and... then it won't be so tiny anymore. "I can help with the computers, at least."

He sits up, still in his own head, his own skin. Time to get something done. Something useful. Something that doesn't involve smashing shit to smithereens.

"He's just good at crawling around things," Tony explains as he rolls over to pull himself up. He's pretty sure he's got a bruised rib but if that's the only thing to worry about now, he's in good shape. Tony snags the other man's glasses off of the floor and holds them out to him. "You're coming with me. We're not getting separated."

If there is one person in the universe that trusts Bruce Banner without any fuss or muss, it's Tony Stark. He only lets Bruce take the glasses back after the someone skittish, self protective man looks him in the eye. Tony smiles somewhat stoically.

"Haven't you ever seen these films? The moment you go it alone, the insane killer creature eats you."

He's trying to be supportive here, but...probably? He's not doing a very good job.

"C'mon, I saw a panel back in the medical bay I can hack."

"Tony I have't seen a movie in... years," he says, taking his glasses back and putting them back on his nose. "And even when I did, this sort of thing was-- not exactly my faire."

He liked foreign films were emotions were muted, okay. Or period dramas. He's never been the sci-fi loving nerd.

"Alright. How are we getting there?" On his feet and somewhat calmer, Bruce glances vack at the sealed bay doors. "I mean, other then the vents. We're not really using the vents, are we?"

"There should be a service tunnel," Tony starts off with, giving Bruce a reassuring smile. "Probably have to crawl, but it'll be wider and taller than the vents." Maybe. He's not an expert here, this space is new to him, and while he already loves it, he doesn't know it inch by glorious inch the way he knows, say, the Tower. Or all of his cars. And his suits.

Finding the door to the tunnel is easy. Getting it open...?

He tosses Bruce one of his lights as he pulls open the box by the hatch. The wires immediately spark and he curses. Two attempts to ground them are met with similar sparks.

"Okay. Uh. Plan B."

"Do you actually have a Plan B?"

You know, just so that Bruce can record the date on the calander and get a holiday put there eventually. 'The day Tony Stark had not only a plan, but a plan b'.

"I always have a plan B. I just never need to use plan B." Turning the flash light around, he tries hitting the control box until the thing hisses and fizzles and the door slides open. Enjoy the smuggest, most shit eating smile ever. "Like, oh, now! After you, Dr. Banner?"

There is a brief, flat look, as Bruce reigns in a flare of irritation, before he goes forward, striding onward. His shoes are barely muffled by the thin, mostly decorative carpet.

He needs to find that medical bay. Maybe enjoy a sedative or ten. Not that it will do any good-- but right now his anxiety is high and he can feel the pressure building. With that thing behind them.... well. Let's just say he's a little but tense.

Whether he's afraid of it, or what he himself might do is a another matter. It's probably more the latter than the former.

Tony is loose. His arms swing freely at his sides. If he's nervous or afraid, he doesn't show it. He can't, and not for appearances either. Banner needs him to be easy. He'd felt that pulse. He knew the danger number. They'd come close for a second there.

"After we finish this, I need a cheeseburger and a scotch. Think there's any in the mess?"

The number is a fallacy, but it's still one of those things that helps gauge if Banner is close to an accidental incident, as opposed to simply getting his Enormous Green Rage Monster on. Heart rate, stress, and especially anger -- especially anger -- are just keys in the complicated lockbox that keeps the Hulk inside, controlled, contained.

Not all of them have to be thrown for the Hulk to get out.

"Do you really want freeze dried space meat?" Banner asks, as they walk along. "Scotch, cheap. Maybe. But I'll pass on the freeze dried meat."

"I really want anything right now. When's the last time we ate?" Now that they are not in immediate, face eating danger, Tony's mind switches from the purely logical, the master of theorums and schematics, to the more mundane and biological. Needs are needs. Tony is not as complex as the creations he produces might make it look.

The hall is long. Narrow. Cramped. Hot. He bumps twice into Banner before they reach the far door, another air tight locking mechanism threatening to keep them out.

He kneels to try the smash and grab method that worked on the last door so well. He wipes the sweat from his brow after a moment. "Okay, is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? Really hot? More than just what my naturally glowing personality puts off?"

"I think we run better without extra weight in our stomachs," Bruce says, glancing backwards. He doesn't think about the machine. He knows very well that if he can't sustain himself, the Hulk will manage to do so somehow.

Right now? He's runing a hand though damp hair, curls turning springy as they get damp from sweat.

"Your personal radiance aside," he said, rubbing the heel of palm against his forehead, coming away with a sheen of sweat, "it's -- getting really hot, yeah. Bad Usher lyrics hot."

...yes, he's disconnected from the world a lot of the time, but he still managed to make that joke.

Though he doesn't turn to look at Bruce, Tony does chuckle under his breath. Metallica is more his speed but sure. Banner can be an Usher guy. An Usher and a Bollywood guy. Maybe a little smooth jazz...

He doesn't really need to focus to reprogram a door. The technology very is advanced, but Tony's mind sort of assimilates any tech he touches. He doesn't bother trying to understand it. He never tries to teach it.

"All right. So let's go over what we know. We're trapped in space with killer insect monsters that breed by face fucking. We have no real food. The coolant systems are down which could result in a core explosion. And now you've got really horrible music in my head. Good job, Banner. Help me with this plate and try not to sweat on me."

Aggressive music is not the sound track to his life by choice. He prefers classical, actually, but he's heard enough crappy pop and hip hop stations traveling from place to place these days that he knows who Usher is.

"We'll be upgrading to Nelly level hot in no time," he mumbles, mostly to himself, and adds, "Sorry," as an afterthought. You know. For the music.

He comes over, adjusting his glasses, and pats down his pockets. No tools, either. Oh well.

"Right, let's see if we can pry this open," he says. Hands will have to do.

It's not a good time to mention the Jolly Green Giant so Tony keeps it to himself. Without his suit and Banner's motorcycle sidecar passanger, they're going to be stuck. Separating isn't an option either but-- They don't have a choice.

"Stay here. Work those pecs. I'll be back."

It's going to have to be the vents for one of them and Tony doesn't have a lot of options. So welcome to Plan B, Banner.
"On second thought, sit down and breathe until you get better tastes in music. And then we can be friends again." His plan? Open the door from the other side. And, you know, don't get impregnated by monsters.

There is a brief moment, a look given. Work those what?

"What happened to horror movie logic?" he asks, trying to keep the snappish tone from his voice and ultimately failing. Safe releases of irritation are key to make sure that the green guy doesn't move from sidecar to pilot's seat.

"Listen you don't pick what music you listen to when you hitchhike. Would you rather I reference Johnny Cash?" Too late, really; there Tony goes and that leaves Banner on this side of the door, wondering if the Other Guy can ... help.

Double edged sword, strength that he can summon but cannot readily master.

He's gone for a long time, though it's possible that someone with a deep and not unpleasant voice singing "I walk the line" can be heard overhead fifteen minutes into Bruce's isolation.

A click comes from the door some time later, followed by a 'da na na na!' and what is likely an air guitar montage before a whoosh of air breathes over Bruce's wet skin.

"You owe me dinner!" There had been no 'betting' and no 'debt' and no 'owing' prior to the miraculous thrust of Tony's genius muscle but that doesn't stop the man from deciding it just the same as his smiling face appears on the other side of the doors.

There may be eye rolling on the other side, and then a chuff of laughter when Tony appears. Well, then. It's all well and good --

-- until Bruce's pupils contract to pinpricks as he focuses on something just beyond Tony, up on the ceiling and coming out of a vent. Apparently, Tony wasn't the only one with the bright ideas about crawling through ducts.

It's a young male. Small, sleek, black and chitinous. No less deadly than one of the bigger warrior-males. Bruce takes his glasses off, passes them to Tony.

"Stay out of the way," he says, very quietly. No suit? No super-service. That leaves Bruce with one shot at making this quick and less messy than it could be...

But there's a green tinge to his skin now and Tony probably will want to take those glasses and run.

Tony's head slowly, slowly tilts towards his shoulder and just before Banner removes his glasses, he looks in the reflection of them and sighs. Really? And things were going so well after the last time they'd nearly gotten eaten. "My dance card's full, Banner," he murmurs and then weighs the options of taking the glasses.

He hates being handed things.

He's run out of hand sanitizer.

There is no hand sanitizer on the ship. He knows. He's checked.

But with Banner looking a little green around the gills, what choice does he have? Taking the glasses, he slips them on, is blinded, and pushed them up into his hair before he leans forward to begin to undo Bruce's shirt. It's soaking wet, but he already has Banner germs on him so this is nothing. And Bruce might want to wear clothing if the Hulk doesn't rip open their ship and kill them all.

"I'm going to the crew cabin," he says, literally tearing off the other man's shirt now as his breathing changes. "Just...you know...don't eat anyone."

His eyes are green. So bright and not right, with pupils like specs and his breathing goes wild. He doesn't struggle with Tony's gripping of his shirt because he knows that it's necessary-- instead he just lets it go.

Besides, it's not like his pants are going to survive the trip.

He answers Tony's instruction with a rapidly expanding, meaty ham-hand -- a rough shove to get him moving --

-- before the Hulk goes to see if he can rip that thing into pieces.

...it's going to be ugly, and acid is going to be everywhere, and you better hope it didn't bring friends to take up a pincer attack: those things, when there's enough of them, hunt in pack.

Which is pretty good, because Hulk's going to make amazingly short work of the first one, even if it does manage to pock-mock his green skin with acid burns and raise cuts with it's sharp shell and biting mouths and...

...face it, it's like someone let a pitbull loose in a crab boil. That thing stands no chance.

Shirt in his hand and trailing behind him like a cape, Tony pauses at the end of the corridor he ran down not twenty minutes ago and watches the last of the transformation. Sorry he's a fanboy, Banner. He just thinks it's... "So cool." And off he goes again.

Getting to the crew cabin isn't one of those really easy things and he thinks at how stupid the suggestion was as he approaches. He's further away from engineering now. Further away from where he needs to repair the ship. And there's two dead guys in the center of the room.

Man. He hates dead guys.

Sucking it up, Tony trots the last hundred or so yards, gingerly steps over people with no chests, and heads right back into the ducts to at least keep busy by trying once more to get in touch with the ship's computer. Hopefully, the Hulk won't make them implode before he can see Banner again and give him back is stuff.

The ship vibrates anew; there is bang bang bang that runs through the length of it, makes the whole thing shudder. This is not colony ship, this is an exploratory vessel. Small, sleek, quick -- and so every time something goes crashing into a wall, or pounded into the floor (which is merely another deck's ceiling) the whole ship shudders with it.

But it's brief. Angry, wild, but brief. A passionate and violent interlude. And somewhere, the Hulk rolls his shoulders and grumbles because his fingers are tingling and that stings a bit and dammit he wants that to stop, and -- so he punches a few walls, trying to make the burn stop...

...and hopefully he didn't punch through anything Tony might later need to get the ship running.

The next hour is less bumpy. The Hulk sulks, stomps, and with nothing to focus rage on, nothing to supply a source of the anger... he eventually stalks off to find something to punch somewhere.

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just got back from seeing the avengers again. so many bruce feels

Aww Bruce. Mark Ruffalo is my favorite <3 it's the hair. He needs it petted.

i had mixed feelings bout the casting (because he's too big to be banner?) but he pulls it off!

You mean broad? Mark is a small guy. But yeah, he pulls off crafty/mousy/sassy like woah

yeah, his shoulders man! He's got broad shoulders that make me go "too big!" for banner

I just really like his teeth. Crazy, but... Yeah. And the curls. Gnu ugh

It's the hair. Let me just play with the hair.

He's like...a cat. Or a pony. I don't know. Cuuuurls. Tony likes them too.

you'd to be dead on one end not to want to play with that hair.

Tony has extra hand sanitizer specifically for times in which he feels the urge for petting.

how very thoughtful of you tony

He likes to think so. PS. Your Banner is lovely.

oh thank you god i feel inadequet because I've had some really AWESOME tonys hit me in memes :D

I've never played with other Tonies. I think the world would explode with more than one per post.

Possibly. I have a couple who tag me, and I want more all the time. /worst at tagging out tho.