Guard Duty
#1
Nichole paced back and forth. 

She was so bored and hyper from a combination of staying up late watching Invader Zim and too much caffeine, but she had agreed to guard duty, and still had an hour left. 

"Uuugh..." She looked around to make sure no one was watching. 

"I'm gonna sing the Doom Song now," she said in a high-pitched voice, attempting to mimic GIR from the show. "Doom doom doom doom doom doom doom doom..." she began, sort of dancing along to the bizarre tune.
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#2
<Invader ZIM? I really need to catch up on that show.>

But sadly, he'd only recognised the reference from Internet memes, which he immersed himself in, to...seem more human, he guessed. From behind her, an Andalite emerged. Forlin had been feeding, and checking up on the Resistance. He had to return to the city soon, though. He couldn't forsake his human identity, especially when he should be hunting for a job.

Ellimists, he didn't want a job on top of everything else.

He wondered if it was on Netflix. He'd flown out here, and he certainly would never have brought his cellphone or anything else electronic even if he had been able to. It was too risky. He did miss being able to fiddle with his phone.

All this repitition of Doom though, made him think of Elder Scrolls. The Doom Drum, Lorkhan. Doom doom DOOM beats the Doom Drum.
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#3
Nichole reacted without thinking. She spun and kicked at the Andalite's face with her left foot, and drew her gun with her right hand.

When she realized who it was, she relaxed a little, but the damage had already been done.

She withdrew her foot and stopped attacking. "Jesus Christ!" she snapped. "Don't sneak up on a girl like that, Forlin!"

She put the gun back in her holster. If her mom knew she had a gun--let alone knew how to use the thing, she would have flipped out.

But her mom was no longer her mom, and neither was her cousin. So it would have been the Yeerks in their heads who flipped.

Still, she hoped the Andalite wasn't mad at her attacking him.

"How do you even know what Invader Zim is?" she asked, changing the subject as quickly as she could. "I mean...no one knows that show...especially around here." She rolled her eyes.
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#4
Nimbly, Forlin dodged, realising his error as she reacted. He had to admit, she had really good reflexes. <Sorry...> He pawed the grass with a hoof.

She was curious how he knew about Invader Zim. <I've been on Earth for two decades, y'know,> he said with a chuckle. The Earth was everything he'd ever known, really. All of his memories of living as an Andalite were still locked away. Most of them. <Currently catching up on Steven Universe and Doctor Who at the moment. Thank goodness for Netflix and Hulu.>

He hadn't really gotten to know Nichole much. Now would be a great opportunity to do so. To know the people he was fighting alongside.
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#5
"No, it was my fault..." she replied. "I should have known it was you..."

She laughed awkwardly. "Heh. Yeah, true. But most people aren't...well...nerds. Including normal people." Her eyes lit up. "You like Doctor Who? And when you say Doctor Who, do you mean the original or the new series? And who's your favorite Doctor?"

She bit her lip. "Sorry. I'm babbling." She laughed, flushing a little.
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#6
Forlin gave a shrug of his arms -- the human way. <I know a lot of nerds, though most of them are online.> He hadn't really encountered a lot of nerds outside of the internet...though, nerd is a relative term.

<I like both of them. I'm trying to find as many of the originals as I can. But any Doctor Who is good Doctor Who. It's just so...out there. And crazy. You never know what will happen next. My favourite Doctor is the Eighth.> She apologised, and he said, <It's all good.> The Andalite smiled with his eyes.
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#7
"Yeah. That's where the nerd community is. Online. Heh."

She smiled. "I love Ten, and Nine seems so underrated! But I really need to watch the old stuff. I've just been kind of on an IZ kick, along with the original Star Trek."

She flushed a little, looking embarrassed. "You...you sure? I mean, I nearly shot you and tried to kick you in the face." She looked down, scratching the back of her head a little.

He was really cute, and she couldn't help but just keep talking. She felt like an idiot but couldn't stop herself.
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#8
Ah, the Interwebs. Where the memes were dank, and you needn't show your face. It was the rabbithole he had fallen into ages ago. Oh, and the streaming. You can't forget the streaming. <All things I need to catch up on, but I'm finishing Steven Universe and Babylon 5 first,> Forlin said. <I like Star Trek too. Need to catch up on that one as well. Isn't it true they have all of the episodes up on the Star Trek website, for free?> He really liked the shows he'd mentioned, though Invader ZIM he still needed to see! He was tempted to burst into song--the theme song of the Crystal Gems in particular. Because it was often in his head, and it certainly was now.

She still seemed to feel bad about nearly attacking him. <I hope your weapon was on stun,> he said. <And kicking? Nothing I can't handle. Don't sweat any of it; let's just say it's a learning experience.> The Andalite was curious, though. <Do you live here at the base?> He didn't want to ask it in a way like, 'Are you able to go back to human society or are you on the run?' That could potentially be triggering to some people. He felt lucky himself; he could pass for a human and he still had his adoptive human mothers, sister, and his human life.
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#9
"I watch it on Netflix. I also have it on DVD. Same with Invader Zim, if you ever want to, you know...borrow them. Or, you know...we could watch them together...just for fun..."

She frowned and pulled out the gun. "Err...it was an actual gun. I don't have a Shredder or a Dracon beam or anything. I just need a weapon in case someone gets in. I just make sure not to shoot anyone in the head or the heart, just in case."

She shook her head. "No, I live with my mom and sometimes my cousin. They're both Controllers, though, unfortunately." She sort of frowned.

"What about you?"
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#10
Nearby in the communal dining area, a large Hork-Bajir was passed out and draped over a plastic picnic table, his thick head resting on the far seat from where he was sitting.  He was clutching a wad of pine bark in his hand, snoring gently, his tail intermittently sweeping across the floor.  

"Snrrrk, smmmim," he snored.
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