Disclaimer: I do not own Tekkaman Blade, Teknoman, or Animorphs. SaraM and Alara, I hope you two enjoy this!
Teknomorphs 1:
The Rival
"I hate camping."
Amy Macmillan muttered, picking her way carefully through the dense brush. Her hair was tangled and some leaves had gotten stuck in it during her trek. Amy's so-called parents had dragged her out to this 'nice scenic hell' as she had frequently described it.
"Ya hear me?! I hate camping!"
Amy backfisted the bush she was stuck in and sighed in sheer frustration. This was getting her nowhere fast, she wasn't sure anymore that she could even find her family's campsite now. Just then, Amy heard someone else crashing through the brush.
Gunnar was most assuredly not in a good mood, as a branch snapped back to slap him in the face. Darkon, the leader of the small group of Teknomen currently on Earth, had sensed the presence of humans in the forest. Darkon had ordered Gunnar to find them, and "invite" them to come with him. Grabbing the annoying piece of foliage, Gunnar twisted it around until it snapped, then threw it contemptuously to the ground.
However, despite his far-superior night vision, he had gotten lost in this thicket. Angry and getting angrier by the minute, Gunnar spotted something that just might make this entire stupid trip worth something. There was a human stuck in the tangled branches of an overgrown thorn bush a few feet in front of him.
From the way the little one was struggling and complaining, it seemed that the thorns were digging into their skin. Some of them were probably snagged in the clothes as well. Gunnar forcibly pulled himself loose, ignoring the feeling of clothes and flesh tearing.
Gunnar slowly stepped up to the human, realizing only when he was close that a little girl was trapped in those thorns. Gunnar smiled; this was going to be interesting. He quick-walked over to her, careful to avoid the thorns himself.
Amy heard someone coming, not able to turn around and see them, she settled for something more practical:
"Who the hell are you?" Amy demanded.
"Me? I'm nobody, at least nobody special."
"Great, he speaks in riddles," Amy said, rolling her eyes.
"If you want, you can call me Fritz."
"Well, Fritz, I'd really like it if you'd pull me out of this damn thorn bush, if its not too much trouble," Amy bit off caustically.
"Gee, now why didn't I think of that?" Gunnar asked sarcastically.
"So, what's your name?" Gunnar asked.
"Why d'you ask?" Amy demanded
"Idle curiosity," Gunnar retorted.
"Good answer. Name's Amy, Amy Macmillan."
"Fritz Wallace. Friends call me Fritzy."
"Fritzy, huh? Well Fritzy, since I seem to be a little lost, care to help me find my way?"
"I was wondering when you'd ask me that," Gunnar said, grinning in the darkness and secure in the knowledge that she couldn't see him.
Telling the girl his name was Fritz had been a half-truth. Fritz had been his name back when he was still human. Before the camping trip that had changed his life, and the lives of his closest friends.
Amy walked a few steps behind Fritz, she had no idea what had possessed her to ask him for help, and she really didn't care. Amy didn't care about much of anything anymore.
She made it a point not to.
Ever since her parents had gotten divorced and her mom had married some stupid self-help type loser, Amy had started to really hate her mom.
When she was with her real dad, Amy hadn't ever really noticed her mom's existence. Her dad had been the one to raise her, and his friends were cool to be around. She'd been his little Hellcat. Or that was what he'd always called her.
They shared a love of the Beach Boys, and a common apathy toward her mother. And then her 'dear' mother had to go and screw all that up. And the nerve of her, marrying Joseph.
Joseph, King of the Losers, as far as Amy was concerned. Every word he said made Amy want to rip out his tongue and shove it up his ass. And his obsession with 'being Amy's friend' was sickening.
Fritz had offered to hold her hand, she'd basically said no.
Gunnar wondered what the deal was with this little girl. He'd asked if she wanted to hold his hand, so he could help guide her through the woods. She'd told him that if he touched her she'd break his jaw. Gunnar had had to fight to keep himself from laughing.
She had a fighter's spirit, he had to give her that. Still, Gunnar wondered if she would survive what was about to happen to her. She did seem strong, but this just might be too much. As they picked their way through the almost pitch-black woods, Gunnar could hear Amy's muttered complaints.
He could also discern a steady stream of half-voiced obscenities. Most of them were directed at her stepfather and her mother, some at the forest, and some were directed at life in general. He sighed, almost chuckling.
"Little spitfire," he whispered.
