acatwhowrites: (Niel♡such a babe)
A Cat Who Writes ([personal profile] acatwhowrites) wrote2011-11-04 09:58 pm

Viking Attack 1/?

title: Viking Attack [1/?]
players: Alfred F. Jones/America, Ivan Braginsky/Russia
word count: 450
rating: PG
summary: (Pirates vs. Vikings vs. Astronaut Cowboys) The Space Cowboys' station faces an attack from the Vikings.
a/n: I found this on my Tumblr. It was something for the Pirates vs. Vikings vs. Astronaut Cowboys that ended up not really going anywhere.





Hero's ear twitched in his sleep, and he made a valiant effort to ignore it as long as possible, but consciousness finally won out. He sat up and stretched yawning widely.

"Hi, Hero!" The cat nearly fell from his precarious perch as his human, Alfred Jones, ruffled his back roughly in greeting. "Napping again?" Hero purred under the pets from his human, but his ears stayed trained towards the large bubble of reinforced glass that separated the safety of the space station from the deadly vacuum of space.

Then he bristled. His back arched against Alfred's hand. His long fur stood up as if rubbed by a balloon. His ears flattened, and he hissed. "Hero? What is it, boy?" Alfred rubbed the cat's ears, trying to calm him down, but the feline swatted his hand away, claws extended.

He never clawed Alfred.

"Dude! What's your deal?!" Hero hissed again and jumped to the floor, standing between the window and Alfred. "Hero..." Suddenly Alfred heard something from below his feet somewhere, inside the station. He felt the shudder up his knees as something struck the station. "What the hell...?"

Giving a final hiss, Hero's cowardice got the better of him, and he pushed back against Alfred's feet.

There is no sound in space, but Alfred remembered the sounds outside his space ships and stations. He remembered the sound of leathery wings flapping in the air, beating a rhythm that destroyed entire cities for centuries.

"Vikings..." Blue eyes wide, Alfred picked up his cat and slowly backed away from the railing between himself and the glass. An eye the size of his head rotated within the skull of a scaly, legendary beats. Its slit pupil shrank at the recognition of a living target. "Vikings!" Alfred hollered and sprinted from the observation deck.

"Vikings! Viking attack! Vikings!" His mind reran the two words, and even when he barreled other people over, his apology was Viking.

"Ivan! There're Vikings..." The doors to the control room hissed open pneumatically at Alfred's approach, the sound drowned out by screaming sirens, buzzers, and shouting. Ivan Braginski, looking very toasty in his long coat and scarf, looked back at him from where he hovered over a quivering tactics coordinator.

"Where have you been?"

Alfred's jaw worked, trying to catch up to his brain's realization that everyone knew about the Viking attack. "Vikings, uh...I saw Vikings. Outside."

Ivan straightened. "And we are trying to keep it that way. Get out there."

"Right! Right. I will get out there...now. I'm leaving."

"Leave your cat."

"What?" He turned his head and felt fur, forgetting his pet had burrowed as deep into his collar as he could. "Hero, you pussy."