Characters Involved:
Myaxx, Tetrax, Gluto, and Azmuth
Author's Notes:
The "crack" series is set in an AU where an accident during an experiment turns Myaxx and Tetrax human. The actual accident never got written outside my head because the MyTrax muse decided for me that it would rather I write the aftermath. These are the first two "aftermath" drabbles/fics. The rest will be uploaded sporadically in between other drabbles/fics I've been writing/working on on DA/LJ.
Enhanced
"GET BACK HERE!!!" A female voice rings throughout the compound.
Can't get a moment's peace, Gluto mutters sourly before he slides the door to his quarters open. Immediately, he sees the galvan genius speed past, miniscule limbs carrying a remote of sorts.
"Catch me if you can!" Azmuth cackles, eyes tapered into gleeful slants.
The gelatinous pilot shakes his head, prepares to shut the door when a human female suddenly appears in the hallway. He freezes in place as he takes in the pale complexion of her skin. The mole on her chin draws attention to the enraged snarl of her lips, the sheets wrapped around her body like a makeshift robe.
His three eyes widen when he spies the shock of venom-green hair and he hears her yell in a voice that should not belong to her.
"FIX THIS! YOU MISERABLE LITTLE GNAT!"
"Myaxx?" His tentacles go rigid in shock and utter disbelief.
The female doesn't acknowledge him, sharp features trained on the speeding galvan. She simply zooms down the metallic hallway, muttering oaths and threats at the paranoid recluse. Maybe it was just an experiment that wanted its creator to correct the mistakes it feels entitled to being corrected.
Instead of continuing her pursuit, the human pauses to lean against the wall, completely out of breath. She glances over her shoulder as if just now realizing Gluto's presence.
She groans in between deep gulps of air, "Why do humans have to have such short legs and such a limited amount of stamina?"
He blinks, "I wouldn't know I'm-"
"It was a rhetorical question, Gluto," She snaps, fist pounding against the wall only to yelp in pain and nurse her hand. "Damn it, why'd they have to be so fragile too?"
How does she know his name? The navigator is curious, concerned, but curious. He loses the opportunity to ask when her crimson eyes widen, realization dawning on her. She speeds off, hair and sheets trailing behind her.
The pilot follows suit, keeps a safe distance but just enough that she is never out of his sight. He wonders how she knows her way around the facility and his instincts tell him he should approach with caution.
Finally they arrive at the firing range.
No, Gluto mistakes it for the firing range given the numerous charred holes and fragments of what had been furniture in its early state of existence. A small section of the room is relatively untouched though all the lights seem to be broken. But Gluto can make out a worktable or two and resting against one is another human.
The silhouette is male with a stocky, barrel-chested build. He seems to be the human female's purpose for returning here. Was this where they had been created?
"How you holding up, Shard?" she asks, reaching out to place a comforting hand on him but then stopping herself.
Shard? Again Gluto blinks. Did she just say Shard?
The pilot hears the man sigh, hears him speak in a voice that should not belong to him, "I've almost adjusted to the amplified sensitivity of my skin."
"Good, because I'm going to need all the help I can get in catching Azmuth," The woman folds her arm across her chest awkwardly, as if she didn't know whether to rest her limbs on or under her breasts.
She goes with the former.
"Can someone please explain what's going on here?" Gluto has an idea but his morbid curiosity would rather hear it straight from their mouths.
"Haven't you figured it out yet?" The woman sneers, chin jutting out as she cants her head.
The pair steps out of the unlit wreckage, and Gluto notes how the top of the woman's head ends just at the man's eye level. Three eyes observe the male's short-cropped cerulean hair, the square jaw and chiseled features. Most importantly he sees the armor the human is wearing and its uncanny resemblance to the one Tetrax wears.
"Myaxx, we don't have time," The man chides her, slowly getting to his feet. He is tall for most humans; the height seems appropriate possibly necessary given his broad frame and sculpted muscles.
Gluto blinks. Several times before he does the unthinkable.
He laughs.
Myaxx's cheeks burn in fury, "You think this is funny?!"
"Yes, yes I do," Gluto admits. He knows he shouldn't but he does.
"Gluto, enough," Tetrax growls, his face an ugly scowl.
And the pilot quickly silences himself. There was something about human features that make their emotions so much more visible, more enhanced.
"Sorry," He apologizes.
"He'd better help us," Myaxx huffs and pouts, cheeks puffing in a childish display of temper. She sneaks a glance at Tetrax, "Because I don't like being shorter than you."
Tetrax cants his head at her before hastily looking away to hide the blush that dusts across his face. "I don't really mind the change in height."
And the pilot bites back another laugh. Human features definitely make emotions so much more enhanced.
Theory
Myaxx has had to piece together clothing out of random bed sheets as her usual garments no longer fit her. She is no seamstress but stitching cloth is a lot easier than combining DNA strands.
Theoretically speaking.
The addition of an extra finger and the amount she had shrunk affected her depth perception and spatial understanding. Myaxx had never bled so much in her entire life than she did in her attempt at sewing by hand. Several bandages and uninterrupted strings of profanity later, the chimera is successful in wrangling a makeshift dress with a most Frankensteinian design.
She ignores the loose seam of the hem and the stray strands dangling from the collar and sleeves. So long as her sensitive human parts (in particular the parts she didn't use to have) are concealed she doesn't care how she looks like. Footwear is a different story, but she's in neither the mood nor condition to even attempt anything.
What she wanted right now, apart from wringing her employer's tiny little neck into knots, was to check on Tetrax.
Partly out of guilt (because if she hadn't gotten the mercenary involved he wouldn't be in this mess) but mostly out of a curious mischief. She knows the Petrosapien's limited sense of touch and she wonders just how vulnerable he is now to tactile sensations.
A grin spreads across her face.
*****************
The blanket is too warm, the bed is too soft, and everything feels more than what he's come to believe is supposed to. But Tetrax's warrior discipline allows him to conceal his discomfort behind a blank look. Instead he focuses on adjusting to these changes, conditioning himself to expect this soft, thin membrane stretched over his body to magnify his sensitivity.
Not all the changes were negative. He felt lighter, more agile, even if his endurance and ability to withstand damage had literally plummeted. He can learn to work with what he's given, but he hopes he won't have to for too long. He was the last of his kind (as far as he knew) and it's disconcerting to the mercenary that he no longer resembles his old self.
He has hair for crying out loud. Hair. What good will that do him?
Sitting up, he runs his far-too-thin fingers (even if they're meaty by human standards) through cerulean locks and winces when they tangle. The blanket is pulled off to the side, revealing bare chest and dark, cotton pants. Long, muscular legs swing off the bed, naked feet gingerly stepping onto the cold floor.
And suddenly he tenses. The soles of his feet had detected a vibration that was growing stronger, indicating someone was heading for his room.
He cannot discern who it is just yet, but he will learn if necessary.
"Tetrax?"
Even if he identifies the voice as Myaxx's the mercenary does not relax. Until the door slides open and she enters into his room. Saffron eyes widen briefly before they are squeezed shut when he bursts out laughing at the ridiculous mishmash of fabrics she calls a dress.
*****************
"Glad to see you're in good spirits." Myaxx remarks, not in the least bit offended. She knows her clothing is atrocious and she's not making any excuses. But at least she can now justify what she intends to do. "Have you come up with a plan on catching Azmuth yet?"
"Have you found the schematics to that device he used?" Tetrax counters. Not to say that he doesn't have confidence in his skills but having a fallback plan was preferable.
She frowned and raised her bandaged fingers out towards him, "Does it look like I had the time to go through all his crap? It took me ages just to make this sack I'm wearing."
The mercenary bites his lip at the flecks of dried-blood staining the garment, "I can see you put in a lot of yourself into it."
"How do humans do anything with five fingers? Don't they get all tangled with each other?" Myaxx muttered as she strode in.
"It's not really difficult to coordinate with five digits," Tetrax shrugs. "But I suppose it's because I've always had five."
Myaxx nods, wordlessly planting herself across Tetrax's lap. She smirks at the wide-eyed look of surprise on his face, "Your skin still giving you problems?"
"N-not as bad as yesterday." He stammers, wondering if Myaxx had always been this soft or if it was just because she was human. She's so small now, he notes. She could come across as delicate and fragile with ease as long as she doesn't let loose the snide remarks and obscenities.
"Really? So this doesn't bother you?" She quirks a brow, twists her lips into a teasing leer and suddenly straddles him.
Color explodes across Tetrax's face while a lump forms in his throat. And he knows he should feel the scratchy surface of her dress but his mind seems to focus on how soft she feels through the fabric and how light she is despite pressing down her full weight on him. "I-It's making me uncomfortable, if that's what you mean."
"Does it really feel uncomfortable? Or is it just the context?"
Her giggle sounds sweeter, her breath feels hotter, and her skin. Her skin. His fingers are sliding over every exposed part of her: Arms, shoulder, neck, then down to her thighs and legs.
Is this what they meant by silken?
She chuckles, leans in so close their noses (they actually have those things now) are touching. He smells of metal, rust and ice, she absently decides. It's unusual but familiar and comforting at the same time. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders, brushes against his cheeks and she feels his arms wind tight around her.
"Ease up, Shard," she growls at the constricting embrace, nails instinctively digging into his skin in protest.
He hisses at the pain and mutters an apology, frowning more at the fact he seemed to be just as soft as she was. His grip goes slack and he feels her trying to push him down. She's not as strong as she used to be, they can both tell. He's curious as to what she has planned and gives in, reclining so that she's now on top of him.
Her hands roam over his bare chest but he is able to suppress the shudder that wants to ripple through him.
"I see you're no longer that sensitive. Though I wonder..." She trails off, the mischievous gleam in her eyes shining brighter.
"What are you-" he doesn't get to finish his question as he is assaulted by a most alien sensation. It robs him of his breath, causes his eyes to water until he manages to grab Myaxx by her wrists and pull her hands from his sides.
"You're ticklish!" She leers, "I knew it. I just knew it."
Tetrax's brows knit in confusion, "Ticklish?"
Myaxx nods, "That, Shard, is what humans call those who are susceptible to fits of laughter whenever certain parts of their body are poked and prodded." She pulls her hands free, fingers demonstrating the maneuver in the air.
He narrows his eyes at her, his scowl masking the urge to crack into a grin lest she detects his intentions, "And you know this how?"
She laughs, shrugs casually, "It was just an experiment to prove my theory, no need to be so upset."
"Well," he glowers darkly, "Aren't experiments supposed to be replicated before a theory is considered proven?"
Carmine eyes widen and then she's sprinting out of his room with Tetrax hot on her heels.