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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"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.

Tony takes a nap. There's no good way to say why he does this when Hulk's out there making everyone's life miserable. But he can't do anything else when he said he'd stay here. He manages to get the food preparer working again, he has something to eat that says cheeseburgers on the packet but is nothing at all like cheeseburgers in reality. After getting no where with the navigation system and getting fed up with the fact that dead people in space still smell like dead people, he hunkered down into the captain's crawl away space.

And he is currently there, a space age sleeping beauty in a bubble case with bags under his eyes and a little bit of oh-hell-that's-not-cheeseburger-you-bastards in his goatee when Banner finally makes his way back to him.

He may or may not be using the shirt as a pillow.

That's okay. Banner -- or at least the part of him that runs the forebrain of the Hulk -- wanders in, slowly losing steam. He dwindles, little by little, and eventually drops in heap not far from where Tony dozes, covered in alien yuck.

Thankfully, most of the active acid has already worked it's chemical magic on the Hulk, and burned itself out-- leaving him left covered in inert alien blood and his decency barely preserved by the shreds of his pants.

He's just going to have a lay down now, okay. A nap. Right here in a puddle on the floor.

Cute. Tony might think so if he hadn't just woken from a four hour nap in a survival situation with a naked physicist curled up beside him on the floor. Four hours is a very long time to pass out, but honestly, he feels better for it.

He's also pretty sure that Banner's got the right idea by not wearing anything.

He drops the shirt over him and then tries to toe him awake all while pulling off his own shirt. It's grown almost unbearable hot.

"Banner. Stop being lazy. We've got to get to engineering. Oh, you owe me dinner again because the cheeseburgers here are terrible. Never taking your advice again."

There is a snort, and a startled moment-- before he wakes, and has to go through the momentary confusion of where am I followed up by what did I punch?

"I-- itch," he says, and that's... well, that's the best he can do right now. He sits up, taking his shirt--which now smells of his own sweat and Tony's hair products--and then pulls it on because who cares.

"I think the path to engineering is clear now," he says mildly. He can remember snippets, like the highlight reel of a movie he can only half-remember. "And I'll buy you dinner if we can keep the ship from exploding."

"Well that's no problem," Tony says, ego filling up the space between them as he reties his boots on and shifts around in the belongings of others to get Bruce something to cover himself properly. Thong, yoga pants, jumpsuit, boxers.

Take your pick.

Tony might secretly root for the thong but he doesn't have any camera equipment and the uplink to Facebook is insanely terrible here.

With the wires and holographic motherboards he harvested from the ducts wrapped up and shoved in a makeshift pack, with Bruce trailing behind him, Tony starts again for engineering. "Did you just wake up here or did you drag your rear back here after your little showdown?"

Bruce long ago gave up on anything resembling under clothes long ago, so the jumpsuit is chosen and donned, and the yoga pants and dirty shirt are packed as extras for later.

"Uhm. I don't... remember?" he says, thinking. "I think the big guy came looking for more things to punch, and got bored. When he gets bored, he takes a little lie down, and I get to ...wake up."

Naked in strange places, covered with alien yuck. Itchy alien yuck. There is not enough hand sanitizer in the world that can fix Bruce's problems right now.

"He just likes me," Tony says, absolutely sure. The Hulk caught him from the air. Roared him sweetly back to life. Tony's always had a little bit of a hard on for crazy, impossible, dangerous things. Banner's giant rage filled friend is sort of the ultimate in awesome. Not to mention Bruce himself -- It was pretty cool knowing the guy.

Tony hadn't been lying when he said it was an honor to meet him.

And yes, he is actively trying to be best friends with Greenie.

"I'm going to melt," he complains as they shuffle along. "Or blow up. I'd rather blow up. C'mon Banner, look lively."

"I don't know that he can like anybody," Bruce says, not-- wanting to go into how much of Hulk is him, and how much of him is in the Hulk. It would be awkward. Admitting to part of the problem of control -- that Bruce is the Hulk and the Hulk is Bruce -- would be admitting that he had a problem before he was irradiated. Then we'd be looking at integration of personas and tackling things like "how did you feel about your dad beating your mom to death, anyway?" and it's just not a place Bruce is prepared to go.

Denial; it's a state that Bruce is very comfortable in.

"I'm lively, I'm lively," he says, scanning the walls, the halls, the vents. Just in case. He's pretty sure he put a dent in those things numbers, but... you can never be too sure.

"I'm not just anyone." And he always doesn't have friends. Oh, thre's Rhodey, who has his loyalties elsewhere. And there's Pepper, who has suddenly become too grown up to put up with Tony's antics. Happy is moving in on that territory anyhow and Tony's been taking a few steps back because, hey, he's a catch, but he's not a keeper.

And then Banner showed up. Mousey little Banner that draws himself inward and constantly looks for exits. Tony's smitten. You know, the sort of high school smitten where you constantly want to be around the other person.

It's called friendship, basically, but Tony is still a little beside himself on how to deal with it.

So, off to engineering then. And Bruce is right, it's pretty damned clear. Tony's almost skipping. Right up until the floor is missing for oh, a good three meters. And the drop is in complete darkness.

"Damn."

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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.

Greedy. There's never any Banners.

when his first solo movie hits you watch you won't be able to swing a cat without hitting one

Tch. Hardly helps me now! I'll just steal you until then.

just wait he'll be like the billion and ten lokis... which ironically, I want to try my hand at too.

The Lokis that never stick around when you want to play ACTION (and some smut). I play Thor too

I will play anything, almost. Smut requires musebox play cause public memes nope.

Oh I don't care about that. I just like adventure!

yay adventure! the best things in life include adventure

Adventures and kissing. *cheshire grin*

Adventures and kissing. cheshire grin