Ratchet was in a cruel bind. Well, to be perfectly honest, she was just tired of flying around. It was probably something to do with her hat, whose name the author has now forgotten. Still, she was tired, and, for whatever reason, she decided she'd really love to run at this particular point in time. For this reason, her hat, whose name, again, the author can't remember, let go.
Consequently, she fell. Gravity, of course, wasn't particularly on the ball at this point in space, but it has this unpleasant habit of becoming more important the more you pay attention to it. Therefore, because Ratchet began to fall, her observance of whatever pysical laws dictate or explain gravity began to heighten rather speedily.
In short, she fell faster. By the time she reentered Earth's atmosphere, she was practically fully aware of the reality of gravity. One would be quite correct, therefore, to conjecture that Ratchet plummeted. She practically descended with incredible speed, even!
However, as Ratchet fell closer and closer to the planet's surface, a sudden realization came upon her. If she were to name her hat once, in the rather odious face of disaster, what in the world would prevent her from renaming her hat a second time in a situation of similarly uncool disaster?
(The reader should be aware, at this time, that the author is using all his cleverness and a bit of what he'd have to call cheatyness, for lack of a more authentic word, in order to render this story sound in some small way.)
"NINETEEN!" she screamed, as ozone whistled past her, nitrogen threatened to remove her skin, and oxygen failed to play any significant role, positive or negative. With a uncanny screeching sound, Nineteen careened onto her head, and, at the last second, allowed her some abstinence from obliteration. Unfortunately, the last second was constituted by a stretch of rather a lot of feet, and a couple miles to boot.
Should scientist, mathematician make it this far in the story and prove, somehow, that, at one second from impact, Ratchet couldn't have been this far, or this close to Earth, the author recommends respectfully that said person get a life.
Regardless, Ratchet had time to talk to her renamed hat. Its name continues to allude the author's mind, so until such time as it is remembered, both Ratchet and her hat have obviously somehow forgotten the whole Big Red Spot incident.
"Odd," Ratchet said, observing the Earth beneath. It was strange, after having gone up so speedily, to float down so pleasantly. Her unquenchable desire to run remained, but she was a patient girl. She hadn't the best vocal cords to speak of, but she could spout absolute nonsense without end should the situation require it.
The situation respectfully required exactly that.
The hat, Ratchet found, could communicate subconsciously to her. The effect, therefore, was that she found Nineteen rather displeased. She wasn't surprised, but she felt the same way. Forgetting something like that wasn't done every day.
"The Girl in the Fedora," she thought, grinning. It seemed unique. It seemed a tad clever.
Then she remembered. Cookie! Or Cook, rather. How could she forget? Save the universe. Or was it just the galaxy? How could she know what was supposed to be what? What could tell her that? How could she even trust Cook?
As if to answer, she landed. Well, to be perfectly honest, it didn't answer anything. But Ratchet was an odd type of girl, and she felt, for whatever reason, that she ought to trust Cook.
As if it were high time something got ruined, something ended, or some action came into play, a dozen thugs with muscles the size of Mars jumped her. The precise meaning of this phrase isn't exactly known to the author, but the meaning seems to be that they simultaneously, and without warning, tackled Ratchet. For this reason, Ratchet's superpowers kicked in. As she seemed to have exhibited both flight, strength, and half a dozen others the author can't remember, she decided at this juncture to turn into gas.
Therefore, it was with little reluctance that she joined a rather large club of molecules in varying degrees of closeness. It was a big club. A very big club.
Her hair was still red.
!Noah!
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