Incisor eyed Maverick warily, much like a cat whose owner showed it a calculator and asked it to perform fractions. She turned her attention to the club at his side and the sharp piece of bone he was currently sharpening.
Maverick, seeing that the panther was neither scared nor impressed with the product of his toiling was tempted to shove his bit of bone up Incisor’s fury ass.
He waved this idea away, however, as this train of progressed to his lacking baby maker.
“Honestly. Do you know how hard it was to find a sharp rock? I had to dig my hands through a rotten corpse to find this.” Maverick held up the sharpened piece of bone. “Do you…”
Maverick stopped his raving as he saw the uncaring expression on Incisor’s face. “Do you know what? Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck Gilligan.” Maverick was going to say fuck you to Lost as well but that would have been an oxymoron.
He noticed that there was a scratching noise coming from wicker basket on Incisor’s back.
“Please tell me that’s food.” Maverick said.
Incisor opened her basket and a small, blue grey bobcat spilled out onto the web of roots and grass.
Maverick pointed at the bastard who had left him to die. “What the fuck is that doing here?”
Incisor bring guide.” Incisor said.
Scratch-Ear sat up, saw Maverick and then attempted to bolt. Incisor back handed the kitten and then growled at him.
“Let me rephrase that.” Maverick said. “How is that little fucker going to help me? Look at it. It can’t even stand up to you. How is it going to stand up to one of these Cali.”
Maverick would rather have Incisor betray him by bringing a pack of her friends around. That would have made sense. This made enough sense as taking a ten year old boy to a Irish priest convention and forget the lube.
“He’s just going to run the moment my back is turned.” Maverick said.
Incisor loomed over the timid Scratch-Ear. “Do not make Incisor chase Scratch-Ear. Incisor will not be happy.” The way she said this made the kitten wet his pants.
Maverick had to admit that Incisor had the intimidation factor down. “Did you get food and water.” Maverick asked.
Incisor sat on her four legs. If Maverick was hungry he should have ignored making his toys and found something to nibble on. Instead he had wasted the day.
Maverick held the bridge of his nose as he felt an migraine coming on. He just had a Sally flashback. That bitch loved to ignore him as well.
He pointed in the direction of the summoning gem. “It’s a long walk.”
“Maverick and Scratch-Ear walk.” Incisor said and then scurried up the nearest tree and hid within the branches.
Going through the bastard offspring of a rainforest and a prehistoric jungle was as pleasant as it sounded.
If it wasn’t for the trick she had learned from a certain movie about about finding water within vines, Maverick would have either have been forced to drink from puddles like Scratch-Ear and Incisor or he would have died of thirst.
Between the constant ass sweet and the insect life, Maverick was sure that he was going to die of exposure before any animal got a chance to eat him.
As good as the days were though, the nights were far less fun.
Even with his night vision any idiot who ever watched a horror movie would tell you, walking around at night in the middle of a jungle death trap was just begging for a short life. Which didn’t make things easier as Scratch-Ear and Incisor were both nocturnal.
Maverick was surprised that he needed less sleep than he had in his previous body, but that didn’t mean that he could walk indefinitely.
With or without a fire sleeping on the ground would see Maverick sleeping inside some thing’s stomach.
As his eye lids were about ready to close like a guillotine, Maverick got desperate. As Scratch-Ear slept on a nearby hole, Maverick climbed a thick tree.
The climb was easy, Maverick’s strength was far superior to any human and he almost jumped over a low hanging branch.
Incisor made it look so easy.
No matter how Maverick stretched or moved it was impossible and all he could do was picture himself falling to the ground and getting impaled on a tree branch. This proved accurate as he twisted the wrong way and banged his head against a rock.
On the bright side Maverick didn’t feel sleepy after that.
Tired, hungry, and having carried a big fucking club of wood and stone for miles. Along with the new bump on his head Maverick’s was pretty pissed off.
Eventually Maverick had enough. He dropped the club and sat down like an impudent child at a toy store who was not going to move till they got their dolly.
The two cats stopped their travels.
Incisor stayed in the tree, Scratch-Ear kept his gaze on the eerir jungle. Both were still strong but were on edge.
“Grey Thing needs to move.” Scratch-Ear whispered.
“No more.” Maverick said. “I’m not going one more step unless I get something to eat, and get a good night sleep.”
A growl came from above.
Maverick pointed a finger upwards, “You can growl all you like. You’re a hunter. Well, hunt.”
Incisor spat and leaped through the trees. She moved so silently that Maverick had to use his map to detect that the panther was truly gone and nor ready to crave him a new asshole.
It was a mistake to test the cat but Maverick couldn’t work up the nerve to care. Either he would have died of hunger or Incisor’s jaws around his throat, next time he doubted she would be in a mood to take orders.
Maverick breathed in deeply in an attempt to settle his nerves. It didn’t work. He was tired and could feel that the tree he was leaning against was home to a mess of insects.
“Are any of these poisonous?” Maverick asked his furry sidekick.
“Many.” Scratch-Ear replied.
Despite his earlier protests to take another step, Maverick stood and brushed himself down. Living in Australia, Maverick knew what a redback or funnel web bit could do.
Seconds past and the thought of making a fire had entered Maverick’s brain for the thousandth time, but the thought was dashed ounce again.
Maverick, like any civilised person with two dollars made fire the typical way. By buying a lighter.
If movies had taught the teenager anything rubbing two sticks to make a spark was about as useful as hoping the twigs spontaneously combusted when introduced to pig urine.
Striking flint together seemed the less boyscout measure, but what did flint look like? Would any stone do?
Maverick leaned down and touched the grass. It was wet and therefore would not make a good fuel source.
After searching and feeling as though he was going to end up a jackass for even trying this insanity, Maverick eventually scrounged up some kindling. The fuel had been difficult but Maverick wasn’t doing anything else at the moment.
Years ago, though, Maverick had no idea where or exactly when. A young Maverick had learned that just throwing the sticks in a pile would have lead to the flames being smothered.
It was strange. Before all this Maverick could have barley remembered what he had eaten last week, now, the memories seemed more accessible. He guessed that it have to do with his brain being downloaded, Avatar style, into his new brain.
Not that he was complaining, Maverick was never into the whole text book thing. He did okay with his studies but his real passion came from making contacts and scavenging for smokes.
Which could be argued as a more productive learning experience then learning what cos is.
Now came the fun part, lighting the mess of sticks and grass.
After an hour passed with no sign of Incisor or hint or progress. The only thing that Maverick had achieved was to make his hands sore.
The fire was unnecessary. Maverick’s body was resistant to the cold, and his vision, while not perfectly suited to the dark would allow him to see any large predator sneaking up on him. But just because he didn’t need it didn’t mean he didn’t want it.
Be it curiosity or boredom Scratch-Ear, who had been sleeping on a log while this had all been happening eyed Maverick. “What is Maverick thing doing?” The kitten asked.
In a fit of frustration Maverick threw the two stones he had been experimenting with against one another for the past ten minutes and examined his filthy hands.
“Trying to make a fire.” Maverick said.
Scratch-Ear’s ears perked up and his eyes went wide. He would be adorable if he wasn’t so useless.
“Maverick can make fire?” Scratch-Ear said.
“Apparently not.” Maverick said back. “Let’s face it cat. We are all going to die here. No second chances, no help coming. No one is even going to avenge our deaths. We are screwed.”
Scratch-Ear tilted his head down, not arguing the loud and foul mouthed alien.
Maverick kept his eyes on his hands. “You know. Maybe if there was some sort of instruction manual with this thing. Sydney said the later models could like do psychic shit. But this… I don’t know what I am.”
A new window appeared.
2nd generation Cuzarh bio-expedition body.
Planet Anoe. (Riclan world)
After 1st contact with the Seven Bre the Jing-Wing-Sedu Republic experimented with creating an highly adaptive space suit that could explore hazardous planets and environments.
Over time the Cuzarh which was later given the Grey moniker because of the peculiar skin pigment was used in the gathering of minerals.
With justified sync technology the Riclan placed their bodies in suspended animation and were able to explore worlds outside of their solar system.
“Nice.” Maverick said. Now things were really looking like a B-Grade Avatar clone. Only instead of ten foot smurfs he was the Engineer out of that craptastic film Prometheus.
Well that was disappointing. Maybe he could get Sydney to put him in a kickass predator body.
After reading about the product in more detail Maverick discovered that the Greys were discontinued. The Riclans, the people who made the Greys were a soup-like species similar to slime.
Where the Riclans lacked spines they more than made up for it with their incredible geneticists prowess.
They already had the technology to place their slimy conciousness into animal native to their world, when the Seven Bre and Riclan discovered one another the Riclan discovered all the possibilities a bipedal creature with opposable thumbs could do.
After that it was the basic cycle of mistrust and war profiteering. The Cuzarh were the product of war and the perverse curiosity to wear the ultimate meat suit.
Until he read Riclan lore Maverick hadn’t thought that thumbs was a much sort after commodity.
Not counting super strength his new body was held superior durability. It wasn’t going to survive a bath in molten lead, but Maverick already felt that if he was back in his old body he would be hurting a lot more.
He also identified that his life span was approximately nine hundred years, which was sweet and all but he had no plans of living that long without sex.
It also seemed that the lolly doctor had not just been making sure that he hadn’t just died on her operating table. Through means he did not want to know about, Doctor Eida Tachibana had turned Maverick into an Ipod.
It was pretty creepy. Rather than the usual meat that most brains were composed of his was made out of liquid crystals and bio-organic computer chips.
His new brain had more in common with a tv than a human and Maverick was able to enjoy all the comforts.
Exploring the tabs and menus, Maverick identified that he could use the communication device on his arm to connect to the internet back in his universe.
Once again Maverick didn’t want to know how they did this only that it worked and that he had options.
There were apps.
Apps that included things like hud add-ons that told him the current temperature and humidity, x-ray vision, Youtube.
There was even an app that allowed Maverick to order a pizza from a place that travelled the multiverse. One of their items included a pizza the size of a galaxy which was cooked over dying suns.
“Fuck.” Maverick called out at the absurdity of that one, he also made a similar curse when he discovered the catch.
Sydney, that fucking miser was charging Maverick for the services. Not one off payments either but daily and monthly subscription fees. He was also using store credit as a form of currency, the scumbag.
Maverick was tempted to get the Earth package which included the internet, all of the radio programs, and access to things not even the Department of Defence could touch with unheard of internet speeds.
Maverick deliberated over that for what felt like an eternity, but unlimitedly waved off the idea.
Back in the good, bad old days mining companies would pay their workers with coupons and dockets they could use at the company store.
It was a diabolical scam to milk their hard working staff of everything including their souls. Worse, it was still going on today.
As Sydney also held the monopoly on the store credit he could charge and pay Maverick whatever he thought was a worthy sum for his services.
With one miscalculation Maverick might be in a position to get a nightstick shoved up his Grey ass. If he got in debt Sydney might. No. Would charge an exorbitant amount of interest and then Maverick would never get a new body.
He was about to check out the other traits the Riclan had thought to put in their space suit when a lizards dropped on his head.