Blackout Pt. 2: Rebirth Another Khystra Adventure Cast of Characters: Rat: a rat Not-Rat/Cal: a genetically perfect metamorph with a nanorobot colony. Said metamorph used to be the daughter of a goddess Angel: a vampire with a soul Cordelia: one of Angelıs human friends Moro: nature wolf goddess, mother of Cal Willow: a white witch Cthulhu fears The sterile white environment, full of advanced medical technology, was, for the moment, empty of personnel. Apt, then, that this was when the labıs only experiment decided to not only regain consciousness, but also to escape. She awoke be degrees, first aware of pain, then biting cold, and then, bright light. She opened her eyes slowly, pupils contracting to pinpoints against the white glow. She sat up, yanking various IVs out of herself as she did. She got to her knees, accidentally preforming a rather crude decatherization on herself in the process, and looked around, her two eyes panning and focusing independently of each other. She soon found this activity disorientating, and concentrated until her eyes no longer operated individually. She hopped nimbly off the gurney, slipped, and fell on the slick tiles. >cold< Not a word, so much as a feeling. She did not like this. She got back to her feet and surveyed the room. A square of dark off to one side. She could smell moisture in that direction, a difference in temperature. That was the way to go. She scuttled across the cold floor, quickly reaching the dark square. She instinctively knew that this bright white place was bad, and that beyond the dark square had to be less bad. She placed her palms against the dark square momentarily confused. There was nothing there, yet she could not pass. She pressed against the barricade, there was a sharp cracking sound, and moist coolness covered her hand. She scrambled though the opening, the strange barricade hurting her, and then she was gone. Nothing remained of the experiment except a few traces of blood, which glistened momentarily in the sterile white lights. Then, the blood glimmered with an oily sheen and rapidly disappeared. The scientists would have told anyone with clearance that the experimentıs blood never lasted long when exposed to the air. She landed in an alleyway soundlessly. Foul scents assailed her from all directions. She felt odd, not comfortable, but could not identify the problem. "You look cold." She looked down. Something small and brown, with a long hairless pink tail and small beady black eyes was talking to her. She could intrinsically understand the small brown thing. (In her previous incarnation, she could automatically understand anything any animal spoke, and that still held now.) "Whatıs "cold?"" "You are. Youıre shivering. Youıd be warm with fur. Like me." "What are you?" "A rat." The rat squeaked. "Do you know what I am?" The rat thought. "Not-rat." He finally settled on. "I think I can live with being Not-rat. At least I have a name now." Not-rat squeaked, squatting beside Rat. "What do we do now?" Not-rat asked, and grew a coat of short brown rat fur. She stopped shivering almost instantly. "See, Not-rat? Youıre not cold anymore, are you?" Not-rat shook her head. Something inside her made a sound. It was accompanied by a churning sensation in Not-ratıs middle. "Whatıs that?" Not-rat asked. Rat thought again. "Hunger. There should be food here. Thereıs a Big Thing food place here." "Big thing?" Not-rat asked. "Big like you, but they donıt smell like you. You have female smell, yes, but . . . canıt explain. Big things, some have female smell but not other smell. Your other smell. Big Things smell like . . . just big things. Canıt explain. Itıs just the way things are." Rat tried to explain. Rat led his new friend to a nearby garbage bag. "Food inside." He squeaked, and started to chew through the plastic. Not-rat stopped him. "Let me." Not-rat effortlessly pulled the plastic apart, sending food scattering across the floor of the alley. "Iıll find good stuff. Sometimes, it goes bad. Too bad to eat." Rat sniffed and tasted. "Mmm, this! Itıs still warm!" And so Not-rat got her first meal. When they finished, Rat led Not-rat to a sewer grating. "Home is down here. Hhm, youıre too big to fit." Rat sniffed the metal grating. It was set half in the road, half into the sidewalk. "Maybe I can move it." Not-rat offered, curling her furred paws around the grating bars. She pulled backwards, there was a crunching sound, and the grating ripped free of its concrete housing. "Better?" Not-rat asked, tossing the grating aside. It was a long time before sounds of the grating hitting the pavement were heard. Rat decided that meeting Not-rat was the best thing to happen to him. "Much better," he squeaked, and led Not-rat into the subterranean warren that was his home. Time passed, and Rat taught his new friend how to survive in the sewer. Not-rat was very good at following the food scent, but much better than Rat, even, and Rat had lived down here most of his life. Not-ratıs senses were so keen, she could smell food, no matter where she was. A few suns after Not-rat joined Rat, she had discovered a treasure, the mating grounds of the sewer roach. After that feast, Rat was so full, he could barely move. Not that Rat had to worry about moving. No other denizen of this darkened world so much as raised a whisker or antennae to Rat and his new friend. They all knew instinctively that Not-rat was not one with whom you messed with and intended to continue to live. Especially since after many altercations, Not-rat had a tendency to eat the loser. Well, meat was meat, Rat had learned that when he was a pup, and it still held true, if he and Not-rat didnıt eat it, someone else would. Rat was getting quite fat living with Not-rat. She was an excellent provider. Not-rat was following the food scent, to what she hoped was another treasure of roaches. Not-rat quite liked the crunchy-spicy taste of the roach. And Rat seemed to like it too. Around a bend, a slippery mat of offal, Not-rat paused to lick at the slick, looking for the food-scent. Yech, nothing. It had been worth a try, though. Never pass off the chance to eat, Rat always squeaked, and Rat was right. When it came to food, Rat was always right. Not-rat continued on, past the slimy sludge of what had, up until very recently, been a human being. Another corner, and oh, so many new scents. Sifting through the morass would have been hard for any denizen of the sewers, any denizen but Not-rat. Picking out the roach-scent wasnıt hard, no, not at all. There, behind that wall. Concrete, old, crumbling. Not-rat scratched at the crumbling wall, flaking away bits. But not enough. The concrete was falling apart, but this was still taking far too long. Need bigger claws, yes, thatıs it. Not-rat thought distractedly. A tingling made her look down at her paws. Her small rat-like nails grew, into formidable claws. Not-rat didnıt understand, only that her journey to lunch had been greatly shortened. She dug at the concrete again, pleased to see huge chunks coming away under her new claws. Soon, there was a gaping hole. But there was another layer. The gritty tang of limestone, concrete. Yes, but a burnt scent, almost lost in the passage of time. Bricks. Not-rat bared rodent teeth. This was going to be rough. Bricks couldnıt be clawed through, or even chewed through, chewing took too long. As Not-rat thought, she began to tingle again, this time in her jaws. She touched this new tingling with her paws. Her jaw was growing, adding new teeth. Her lips pulled away from new, enlarged bony jaws. Not-rat would have smiled, if her new jaw structure had permitted, and went to work, industriously chewing through the brick layer. Once a hole was made, Not-rat reached through and began to pull the bricks apart with her hands. She did not notice as her jaws and face returned to their former, if somewhat rat-like, profile. Nor did she notice as her muscles grew, bunching under her rodent fur, making the destruction of the brick wall go so much faster. The last of the bricks crumbled, and a rush of roach scent blasted out. Not-rat stepped through the hole, her eyes searching the total blackness for signs of lunch. Her pupils dilated totally, and the room beyond the hole sprang into sudden, sharp relief. Roaches. Yes, but so big! They were the same size as Not-rat. Not-rat began salivating instantly. The big roaches started to move, homing in on her presence. Not-rat bared her teeth in ritual challenge, just as the nearest roach jumped. It piled into Not-rat, knocking her back against the brick wall. Not-rat grabbed the creatureıs front legs, and pulled outward. The limbs separated from the thorax, and purple ooze splurted out of the holes. Using a tongue that up until a few seconds ago hadnıt been one-tenth as long, Not-rat licked at the ooze. Yech, bad. This was not food. But it was a threat. A threat to Rat, and perhaps, to her as well. These big bad-tasting roaches would all have to die. Not-rat tossed the one big roach aside. It landed on its back amongst the bricks, went into a spastic convulsion, and died. Odd. Roaches donıt die so easily. Not-rat had nipped the body off a roach, and the head had not died for nine cycles of the sun. No Grim Squeaker had come for it either. (Rat had explained about the Grim Squeaker, the Death who came for rats when it was time to go to the Perfect Now. Every animal family had its own Grim Squeaker, Rat explained). Not-rat figured that these mustnıt be real roaches, because real roaches could survive much more damage than merely having a couple legs removed. These big roaches were weak. Easy prey. Not-rat threw herself into a nearby bunch of big roaches, not the least surprised when they didnıt scatter. Little roaches were attracted to movement, maybe they werenıt so different after all. But when her thick claws cleaved through the chitin of their shells, that all changed. Then, they couldnıt wait to get out of her way. Head, limbs, antennae, and gobs of purple guts flew every which way. Ultrasonic squalls bounced off the walls, gradually becoming fainter as Not-rat worked her way through the big roaches. Soon, the room was silent, save for the post-death twitches of the big roaches, and Not-ratıs barely audible breathing. She kicked her way out from under the pile of body parts, back through the holes in the wall, and headed back to see Rat. The only bad part of this little adventure was that she was covered with big roach guts, and would have to lick herself clean. Yuck. As Not-rat rounded the last corner, heading back to her nest with Rat, she became aware of a bad-bad smell. Bad-bad smells were, Rat squeaked, scents to be avoided at all costs. If a bad-bad scent was near the nest, Rat might be in danger. Not-rat couldnıt have that. She sprinted toward home, squirmed under the boarded-up doorway that marked the entrance to her nest, leapt to her feet, and came face to truncated muzzle with the owner of the bad-bad smell. The creature was shorter than Not-rat, and had no fur. Its skin was wrinkled and slimy, and smelled very bad-bad. It stared at her with wild glowing eyes, and in one misshapen claw, it held Rat by his tail. "Mm, rat!" it gurgled, lifting the twisting and frightened rodent. Its mouth opened, much wider than it should have, showing row upon row of gleaming yellow fangs. And then its whole body jerked and it dropped Rat. Not-rat caught Rat before he hit the ground and scuttled aside. Behind the bad-bad creature stood . . . a Big Thing. Only it didnıt smell like a human, it smelled like dead leaves, dead mice, dead things. Not-rat felt something was bad-bad about this new being, deep in her gut, but stayed where she was, paws curled about Rat. The tall thing was very pale, and had spiky fur on the top of its head. It also had yellow eyes, and sharp teeth. Not-rat bared equally sharp fangs, her face unconsciously mimicking the intruderıs face. The intruderıs eyes widened, and its face changed. Now, it looked like a Big Thing, but it still smelled dead. "Youıre a morph!" It squeaked, surprised. "Iıve heard about your species, but Iıve never seen one before." Not-ratıs face returned to her normal rondential contours. The Big Thing was squeaking, but it wasnıt making words. Just squeaks. But Big Thing wasnıt acting hostile. Not-rat tilted her head. She could almost understand it, if she just concentrated - "Get away! We have to run! Thatıs bad! BAD!" Ratıs voice startled her out of her daze, and she realized that the Big Thing was closer. Her fangs elongated again, and she let out a flesh-crawling hiss. The Big Thing stepped back. It held up its paws, and lifted its chin, in ritual surrender. Rat squeaked about escape again, but Not-rat ignored him. If the Big Thing was going to attack, it would have done so already. Perhaps it was friendly. It had killed the bad-bad thing and saved Rat. "Not-rat-!" Rat began. "Shh." Not-rat murmured, coking her head to one side and then to the other as the Big Thing continued to squeak. Its squeaks were starting to make sense. "Squeak squeak squee squeak going to hurt you. Just come with me. Iıll take you some place warm and clean. Iım not going to hurt you." The Big Thing kept repeating these words over and over, and gradually, Not-rat relaxed. And became aware of Not-ratıs nails digging into her flesh. "If he was going to kill us, he would have done it by now. Calm down." She squeaked, soothing Rat. Then she turned her attention to the Big Thing. Could she make the same squeaks as it did? Only one way to find out. "Eek eek squee squeak eek not hurt Rat. You hurt Rat, me kill." The Big Thing nodded. It had understood! And then, against Ratıs better judgement, Not-rat followed the Big Thing. "Why do you keep bringing things home?" Cordelia whined, then yelped and jumped back as the rat-morph bared razored fangs at her. "Sheıs not a thing, Cordy." Angel explained. "Sheıs a morph, I think. A shape-shifter. Not a werewolf, but . . ." "A were-rat?" Cordeliaıs voice was etched with acid. The rat-morph snarled deep in her throat and took a menacing toward Cordelia, who took two mincing steps backwards. "No, something more. Whereıs Fred? She might know what weıre dealing with here. Something about this morph smells . . . metal." Angel finished. Cordeliaıs face softened. "You mean . . . someone did this to her?" She stepped forward, her hand outstretched. The rat-morph cocked her head to one side, and stopped growling. Cordeliaıs fingers reached out, touching the coarse rat fur on the hybridıs cheek. "Thereıs a person inside, isnıt there?" "Maybe. I just donıt know. I - I donıt know what she is." The rat-morph lifted one huge, clawed paw. Cordelia started to shrink away, then stopped, amazed as the paw shrunk, the fur melted back into the skin, and the hulking paw transformed into a delicate female hand. It touched Cordyıs face as she had touched the morph, gently tracing along the sweep of her jaw. "Sheıs . . . changing." The morph shivered, and slowly changed back into human form. She was tallish, say 5"9, with long black and red hair, high cheekbones, and Asiatic, almond-shaped blue eyes. She was also stark naked. Angel chivalrously averted his eyes. Cordy blushed. "Oopsie, better get you some clothes!" She glided away, while behind the rat-morph, on a nearby table, the little rat sheıd brought with her, was exhausting itself laughing. Much Later . . . Not-rat sat on the square nest-box, fingering the cloth that covered her. It was softer than a rat pupıs fur. It felt good against her newly furless flesh. She still wasnıt sure why she had changed, just that it felt like the right thing to do. For some reason, she wanted to look like the Big Things . . . no, they had names. She wanted to look like Angel and Cordy. "You look different." Rat squeaked, climbing into her lap. She scratched him behind the ears absently. "I think I am different. I donıt think I was meant to be a rat. I donıt even look like you. Never did." She squeaked back, morosely. "Doesnıt mean anything. Youıre good. Maybe not a mate, but a friend. Sometimes thatıs better. No mating to get in the way." Rat was going off on a tangent again. Not-rat smiled a little, though. "You still want to be seen with me? Even though I look like this?" Rat looked up at her, studying her features. "Sure. Of course I do! Weıre family. For ever and always." Then someone was making knocking noises on the wooden barrier outside the nest-box. The barrier moved inward, and Cordy was there. "Thereıs someone here, who knows you!" Not-rat stood, putting Rat onto her shoulder, and followed Cordy. Back to the room where Not-rat had made herself look like Cordy and Angel. There was a new Big Thing . . . person, in the room. "Omigod!" she yelped, "Callen!" And Yet Still Later . . . "Me Callen? Who this Callen?" Not-rat asked for the umpteenth time. The Big Thing, whose name was Willow, tried to explain. "Itıs you, but youıre dead. You know, dead?" Willow closed her eyes, tilted her head to the side, and stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth. "Dead? You understand?" Rat did. "When the Grim Squeaker comes!" Not-rat nodded, and relayed this to the others. They werenıt very smart, actually, they couldnıt even speak rat-squeaks. "When the Grim Squeaker comes to take the Fallen to the Perfect Now?" Willow blinked. Well, she supposed that would do, for now. Obviously, Callen was in an altered state. "Weıll have to call your mother, sheıll know what to do." From inside the cloths that covered her, she pulled out a shiny bit of the clear hard stuff. It wasnıt shaped like the ones Not-rat had seen, which could hold water. It was flat, and shaped like a roach, only without legs and antennae. And it had shiny yellow metal around it. "Your mother gave this to me, after you . . . fell. She said if I ever needed her, I just had to wish really hard . . ." Willow closed her eyes, scrunched them shut, and - A bright flash of light sent Rat and Not-rat scuttling under a table. There was another Big Thing standing where the light had been. Almost immediately, its glowing eyes found Not-rat. "Khystra! My pup! You live!" Not-rat decided this Big Thing wasnıt a threat, and crawled out from under the table. She stood, facing the Big Thing. "Who you?" The glowing eyes searched Not-ratıs face for a moment. "They brought you back. The humans used science and brought you back. You were not reincarnated, your magic did not appear, did not bring you your memories. "The big thing shook her head sadly. "You must earn your magic again, my pup. However," Pause. "You can regain your memories. That much is within my powers." The Big Thing raised its arms, and bright blue light shot out of her paws, enveloping Not-rat. Thoughts swirled through Not-ratıs head, memories came back with a rush. And with them, odd voices, coming from inside her. SHE HEARS. AT LEAST, SHE HEARS. YES, YES. WE ARE YOUR COLONY, NOT-RAT OR CAL OR KHYSTRA. WE LIVE WITHIN YOU. WHEN YOU WERE CREATED, IT WAS DISCOVERED THAT YOUR MIND COULD NOT HANDLE THE DELUGE OF INFORMATION YOUR SENSES BROUGHT IT. WE, THE NANOBOTS, WERE INJECTED INTO YOU, FORMING A COLONY INSIDE YOU. YES. WE FEED OFF YOUR BIOELECTRIC FIELD. YOU DO NOT USE IT, WE DO NOT HARM YOU. WE ALLOW YOUR MIND TO HANDLE ALL THE INFORMATION. WE WILL PROTECT YOU. YOU ARE OUR HOST. WITHOUT YOU, WE ARE NOTHING. The information absorbed, Not-rat sat down hard, on the floor. She cradled her head in her hands. She wasnıt Not-rat. She was Khystra Callen, daughter of Moro, Wolf goddess. She had been a goddess herself, but had sacrificed her life to protect a girl she barely knew, but desperately wanted to call "friend." There had been a black out, in a big city. It was caused by demons . . . Calıs head turned, to stare at Angel. Or rather, the demon roosting inside of him. Part of her wanted that demon dead and squashed, but the rest of her . . . was still confused. She looked up at the woman, Moro. "Thank you, mother." The End *See? I told you no one ever stays dead in Buffyverse for very long. Main * Profiles * Fanfics * Creativity * Awards * Links/Rings