Who: Garrus & Gamora What: Aliens discussing other aliens, and body changes When: Today Where: The Vakarian Household Rating/Warnings: Low, nothing scandalous Status: Complete!
Gamora liked fire, which probably wasn’t surprising. The woman had a penchant for anything destructive, and that was a personality quirk of hers which was embedded pretty deeply. She liked swords (her Godslayer), she liked guns - big ones, powerful ones, ones that made an impressive boom. So she was pretty pleased to be invited to the home of a fellow traveler of the galaxies, one who did not hail from Earth, though she did not know what to bring - it was difficult, when her host couldn’t exactly consume food or drinks from this planet.
She watched the fire, which became more and more vivid as the sun went down, like someone had shone a spotlight on the flames. Sparks flew and fell, blackened specks of charcoal, and the light cast by those flames danced on tree trunks. It made for weird, twisting shapes which she also enjoyed watching.
Her vision was...astoundingly better, crystal clear and sharply focused. Her lungs wouldn’t scream for air even after an abnormal stint of holding her breath. She could run farther without tiring. That was all thanks to the ocular and respiratory implants she’d woken up with - just the first step in her transition. The cybernetic skeleton would likely come next, and she’d be even more of a cyborg than she was now.
All of that she could maybe deal with. But being green? How was she supposed to explain that one?
“It takes some used to, being able to see everything,” she said, squinting at the crackle of sparks. “I also realized I can never go to a regular doctor again. Unless I want my very unique physiology to be uncovered.” But Garrus must know how that went. Obviously. It was nice to have someone who understood.
Turns out that things with friends involved a little extra creativity nowadays - couldn’t go out to dinner unless he wanted to watch them eat (he didn’t mind, but he didn’t want them to feel awkward and then in turn he feel awkward and it was just uncomfortably awkward all around), couldn’t really part take in the joys of Satan’s Piss out in bars. Garrus tried, stubborn as he was, and maybe slowly introducing non-dextro things into his body could built an immunity, but sometimes he wasn’t always brave enough to experiment that much.
A the very least, he and Cindy had a home suited for entertainment. The firepit, for one, had been their prime centerpiece; coiled in white brick and padded with sand, string lights zigzagging above. For the sake of privacy the installed fences were high to keep the eyes of nosy neighbors blocked - wasn’t any of their business to see something non-human walking around the privacy of his own property, thanks.
“There’s a few unique doctors on the network,” he said in that smoky voice, paired with a metallic undertone. He returned with two glasses gripped in oddly-shaped digits, and he was plainly dressed (turian culture wasn’t one for various fashion options, too militiristic). “They’re a rare damn breed, though. Turns out the one I found specializes in aliens, so at least your check ups are covered.”
Garrus offered her one of the glasses, of course, holding a pale green liquid. Asari alcohol, brewed on Thessia, the initial taste like cold daggers on your tongue but with a bitter, tangy aftertaste. Might was well entice house guests with drinks not of this world for the experience.
“There is a doctor who specializes in aliens?” Gamora asked, surprised. She didn’t think she’d be able to find anyone like that - but hopefully, if she maintained a similar regenerative healing factor like her dream self, she would not need to visit the doctor often. Except for, yes, a potential check-up here or there. “Is this doctor an alien themselves?”
She took the glass with a thanks, and gave the liquid a tentative sniff first - it smelled bitter, and also sharp. Tasted sharp as well, cut like a blade through tissue paper, but the aftertaste seemed tangy and sweet. Gamora decided she would give it a ‘thumbs up.’ Especially since she’d never had anything like this before.
Another sip, and the second went down easier than the first. “Your race reminds me of the Kree a little - they have blue skin, and are extremely scientifically and technologically advanced. Also very militaristic. They come from the planet Hala, which has a higher nitrogen content than Earth.”
“Human,” he clarified, and then paused. “As far as I know.” He and Simmons weren’t pals, per se - she was a helpful colleague, but their relationship had been primarily patient to doctor. Garrus needed someone to monitor how fast his cells were changing, recommend a balanced ratio when his body was demanding dextro-amino acids while he still required human nutrition, and then there was the whole freeze the swimmers part.
At least he’d spread his handsome human genetics onward. The world was very welcome.
He sat, Bigby seeing that as a sign to appear from the woodwork and sit beside his human master, regally, bowtie and all. The turian was surprised to not see an oven mitt in his mouth. “I hope that’s a compliment, though,” he grinned - a movement of the plates that sculpted his face. “But that sounds pretty on the nose. You doing alright with - well, this weird OC version of alien puberty? I hope it doesn’t change things too drastically from your everyday life.”
The cat was wearing a bowtie, that was very cute. Small, furry creatures were cute in general. Gamora sometimes thought that coming home to something besides an empty apartment might be nice (she’d never had a pet growing up either), but hadn’t exactly convinced herself to obtain a dog or a cat yet. She didn’t even have a plant, how could she take care of another living creature?
Still, she reached over and scritched under Bigby’s chin - to which the feline purrrrrred, presumably out of delight. “It is a compliment,” she assured with a chuckle. She had run into Kree here or there - though it was the Centaurians (the most famous one being Yondu, the only father Peter ever knew for all intents and purposes) who were blue and sported that crest, similar to the one Garrus had. “The galaxy is so vast, and I have dreams of traveling all throughout. It’s interesting to hear of other planets that don’t seem to exist for me.”
At the question involving how she was doing, she shrugged casually. It was almost easier to detach herself from any of it. Otherwise she didn’t know how she’d come to terms with changing. “It is...something,” she mused. “I think the biggest change will be my physical appearance, obviously. I can still consume human food and drink. But I will just be...upgraded? Like I am a computer. A machine.” That was all Thanos seemed to think of her, anyway.
It was vast, and he was thankful he got the chance to explore things outside of this planet’s atmosphere - otherwise there’d be a sense of cabin fever he’d have a tough time curing. Unfortunately, it also meant another gateway of possible threats (he wished the Reapers would land, now, so they could either all die or get the hell on with their lives) but, well, not much they could do there.
Upgraded was an interesting word, though. Garrus tilted his head. “Cybernetics, then?” Shepard had been enhanced by them - out of necessity, considering scientists had literally brought her back to life. “To what extent?” The real underlying question was how bad did her father mess her up in the dreams - it sounded like she was some kind of weapon experiment for the guy, her own decisions on the matter be damned.
“I have just received the ocular and respiratory implants,” Gamora explained. “The cybernetic skeleton is to follow, I’m sure. My bones are...not as breakable as a human’s bones. The physiology of the Zen-Whoberi grants me superhuman attributes regardless, for example, my kind have an advanced nervous system, increasing our awareness and senses and also two livers which allow us to filter toxins a lot faster than humans. But in addition to that, Thanos added the bionic upgrades.”
She hadn’t had a choice about any of it, no. But she’d been young, and alone, and it was either go along with the Mad Titan or go the same way the rest of her planet did. And needless to say, she didn’t want that - she had only been a child, and didn’t really know any better. There was no way of predicting the awful things Thanos would make her do.
“He was terrible, to myself and Nebula - another of his ‘daughters,’” the way she said the word carried more than a tinge of bitterness, and she quickly chased it with a sip of her drink. “But I was his favorite. I’m only now beginning to realize, from the outside looking in, how what he did to my sister affected her.”
Stories of experimentation like that, for the sake of ‘betterment’ wasn’t something he was new to - there’d been an entire organization in his dreams dedicated to that kind of despicable bullshit. Garrus had seen it all too much, and in the Reapers too with their harvest of lifeforms into killing machines for their genocide agenda.
Modify and control seemed like the inevitable route taken when that kind of science was made available.
“In my experience,” he began, trying to find the best way to word it. Meanwhile, Bigby was ever the dapper ham and settled by Gamora’s feet, showing her his capabilities of licking fuzzy kitty sacks. What a guy. “When someone tried to enhance a person into a full-blown killing machine, they often tried to put something in them for control. In the scenario their ‘project’ -” Yes, air quotes. “Went rogue. He didn’t rig you or your sister with anything like that, did he?”
Gamora shook her head, though the expression on her face softened as she pet the kitty - aw, so soft. Ball-grooming must be a man thing, regardless of species. “Not that I know of,” she said, referring to the control aspect. That would just take the cake, wouldn’t it? And, granted, it definitely wasn’t below Thanos to do. He was all about control.
“I made the decision to break free from him on my own, and he hasn’t exactly tried to get me back yet. I’ve joined up with this team of losers to stop his latest planet-decimating scheme.” It was more Ronan that Thanos was using as the pawn, but that fucker had to be stopped too. Especially if Drax had anything to say about it, the big lummox.
Pet, pet. It was soothing, listening to a cat’s purr. “What about you? I assume you ended up saving the galaxy in your dreams too?”
Spirits. Lack of kill chip in the brain for reassurance was at least a plus side in all this, but still - he couldn’t fathom being someone’s experiment for a living weapon. It meant she’d become one hell of a force to be reckoned with here, though, but calling it a perk from the situation seemed out of place. Distasteful, even.
But on the topic of a team of losers, he had to laugh. Ah, Garrus knew that feeling too damn well, and his mandibles shifted to what would be recognized as a turian smile. “Sort of,” he said, taking his time nursing his drink. “It was a full blown genocide we were trying to stop, and in the scheme of things we were successful, but we lost a lot of good people. A lot of planets, colonies. An entire species was almost eradicated as a necessary evil.”
It was war. Politics played a great deal in it with all the bad blood boiling between different alien races - you’d think at a time when their galaxy was being ravaged by a fleet of psychotic sentient machinery everyone would come together as one, but, nah. Why make it easy? Half of it was spent easing the tension between old enemies so they could lend a hand.
“Actually, same threat we faced is due to hit us soon. Wish I had an actual date - that’d make everyone’s life a lot easier. We determined it’d be on a much smaller scale than what we dreamt, but if you want a chance to try something out, you’ll get it.”
“It...is?” Both of Gamora’s eyebrows skyrocketed upward. Casually mentioning that some kind of space apocalypse slash genocide was due to crash land here on Earth had definitely piqued her interest. “How do you know? Not that I’m doubting you, but I am just curious. I also would not mind teaming up with the same group of losers, if need be.”
They were all here, except for Drax. Or if he was around, she hadn’t seen him - then again, it was nearly impossible to miss that mammoth of a person. All brawn and little brains. She still hadn’t forgiven him for calling her a green whore even if he was too stupid to realize it was an insult. Really?
All he could be about it was casual. In the dreams it’d taken them a couple years to reach the Milky Way, traveling from the deepest corners of dark space because their fast travel plans had been interrupted in the previous cycle - he’d tip his hat to the Protheans for that sabotage if he was wearing one. It felt like a long time coming here, and he didn’t have the patience for urgency. Just give him something to shoot at so they could move on.
Or die. Garrus wasn’t optimistic enough to rule out that possibility, but he had this thing called hope.
There was a shift in his seat, and it was then that he decided to say ‘hell with it’ and down the rest of that green concoction - it was like he swallowed liquid ice, with a hint of citrus. “There was one coming our way that was destroyed on a fluke,” he explained. “And when there’s one, there’s more on the way. We’ve been finding the pieces of this massive weapon we put together in the dreams to wipe them out. Preparations have begun, but there’s ground combat to prepare for. These….aliens, they’re both organic and synthetic. They harvest the dominant species and add their own modifications, along with method of mind control that emits from them. We’ll be going up against Reaper versions of humans, turians, and others face to face. Barely unrecognizable, and beyond salvation.”
Modifications. Gamora suppressed a shiver. It all sounded very familiar, so she knew that she would be there to lend a hand when the time came - what good could she be, fighting to save the galaxy, turning against Thanos, risking her life, if she didn’t actually put her money where her mouth was and do something?
“Then they must be stopped,” she stated. “Ground combat I can do. I’ve only just started enjoying living here, getting used to things. I’d hate to lose it because of...Reaper versions of other species.”
Then she downed the rest of her drink as well, no more time for nursing. Funny how the cold could actually burn, when it came in contact with your throat and esophagus.
The modifications were sickening but he wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t used to them, or surprised by the complete lack of mercy bestowed on them by these machines - he’d seen his own kind warped into indoctrinated soldiers, then combined with krogans that literally made what they had so affectionately nicknamed brutes. Soldiers trying to fight the fight harvested, killed, and changed.
Garrus wondered what the body count would be this time around.
“How about this,” he began, reaching over to the outdoor end table; it had a futuristic datapad that blipped. His talons hit it a couple times, compiling dossiers to send, and his pupils moved quick - very birdlike in a way, and some would akin it to a raptor. “I’ll forward you some information on what to expect. The kind of Reapers that we’ve faced on the ground, best recommendations on how to handle them. I’m sure Shepard will release the information network-wise once we know it’s right at our door. Might be a good time to get those muscles ready and aim perfected.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate that.” Gamora leaned over to study the datapad curiously - was it something else entirely, something intergalactic? She was intrigued. Especially by something that she’d look at as a new assignment, a very important one. “It’ll give me a chance to talk to the losers I was referring to before - especially Peter,” she said, and she may have singled him out because she may like him. Just a little.
She was already thinking about what weapons she would need, and what she had her disposal. Chewing on her lower lip, she considered - as long as something could die with a blast to the head, then she’d be content. Getting her in the ‘zone’ sounded fun too.
“I will have to show you my Godslayer next time. It’s a special type of sword, and does what’s on the tin, for the most part. The core is comprised of a unique brand of energy, and there is a dagger attached to the hilt.” Weapon sharing and caring time, what a great time.
All losers aboard as long as they knew how to shoot a gun or wield any weapon useful weapon. And if they shared Gamora’s dreamscape, all the better. They’d have a unique experience not found around these parts often.
But, fuck, he hoped the strike would come soon. It was an awful thing to think of, but he wanted to move on with his life and not be haunted by a threatening presence he thought he’d only meet in his dreams - he had a life with Cindy to enjoy without them (and frozen baby batter that needed to be used at some point).
“Introduce me to your gang sometime,” Garrus humored. “We could always exchange any sort of technologies - including your sword.” That had him intrigued. “Weapons are a hobby. Well, anything that shoots usually is. Your Godslayer sounds like a whole other world I’d be interested to look at.”
The idea of introducing a fellow alien to other galaxy interlopers was something that Gamora could get behind. She saw many people on the network who talked about their dreams, but not many talked about those dreams taking place in outer space. That was a special sort of camaraderie.
“I will,” she promised, with a smile. An actual smile, stop the presses! She had such nice teeth too, it was a wonder she didn’t show them off more often. But exercising the muscles was such hard work. “I will perhaps host my own get together. That way you would not have to hide anything. My apartment is suitable.”
Either way, it’d be an interesting time, she was sure of it. “I also want to thank you for having me over tonight. Your home is nice and I’m pleased that my...demeanor - “ If that’s what you wanted to call a perpetual state of resting bitch face, “...did not intimidate you.”
Gamora didn’t seem smiley by nature, no - he could understand where she was carved stone with all she’d gone through from the dreams, and there was probably some kind of turmoil that held a mirror to this other life among the stars. He was the farthest thing from sunshine and rainbows himself, but he’d always been flexible with people. Garrus got along with most, as long as they weren’t screeching idiots.
His throat erupted with a double-toned chuckle. “You know what I look like - most can’t really tell what I’m feeling with the lack of malleable skin on my face,” he said. Turians just always looked like they were in their own perpetual state of having an entire forest lodged up their rectums. “I won’t deny and say you don’t have the potential to make someone question the state of their bowels first glance.” It was a compliment, by the way. “But you’ve got your way. It’s unique, and all you. You’re welcome here, Gamora.”
Those who traveled the stars in the dreams were few, and those who were born on different planets among them were less than that. It could seem lonely, but neither of them were alone in it.
The idea of her making someone question the state of their bowels at first glance caused her to laugh - the type that slipped free, like she was caught unawares, and always seemed to surprise her. Gamora, with her hard expressions, surly demeanor, and spine dipped in steel (literally, perhaps?) seemed to forget that she was capable of such things.
“Well, thank you, I do appreciate it,” she ducked her head a bit bashfully - having friends was still something that was new for her, but she’d met a few good ones since making the decision to move to the OC.
Traveling amongst the stars, the vast galaxies, made you feel so small. So insignificant. But here, she did not have to feel that way. It was a different change, yet a pleasant one, and something she would learn to wholeheartedly embrace. Not all change had to be bad, after all.