Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Light flickering, shapes fading in and out of focus. One voice being a constant through the ringing. Unrecognizable, but somehow constant in her memory.

“Emma.” The voice echoed. “Miss Emma Perkins, are you with us?”

Emma gained rough consciousness, she looked around her. She was contained within a medical tent, outside of which her blurred vision could just see a large silver cage room, resembling that of a military base. Soldiers in black uniforms marching between weaponized vehicles, Physicists (that’s a kind of scientist) operating ginormous computer monitors and bizarre lab equipment.

Emma is attached to a heart monitor. Several drips entering her arms and nose, similar to wires into a machine. She’s in a hospital bed, the gown and all. A man and woman were at the edge of the bed. Dawning the same military uniform as the other field agents (that’s a kind of soldier).

One soldier was a short, stern woman. Long, brunette curls tucked neatly underneath a black military beret. She was wearing a thick, black jumper, cargo trousers and sturdy military boots, and a pistol locked on her belt in a holster. She clutched a clipboard, checking notes, presumably on whatever the fuck happened to Emma. This woman, whoever she was, seemed like the type of soldier who held things down at base more than fighting in action.  

The other was a taller man, with even longer, brighter curls secured under his beret, perfectly matching a neat beard. It surprised Emma how well-groomed the military get to be. He was sat on the chair in the corner, facing the other way around. Resting his arms against the back as he smoked on his cigarette. His uniform was identical to every being inside this facility. However much more tactical, now he was a soldier who was regularly out in the field of duty. He paid little notice to Emma, focusing more on her score on the heart rate machine. And for some reason his watch.

Emma raised up on the bed, resting on her elbows. The female officer saluted, an expression of pride decreasing her stern demeaner.

“Glad to have you with us.” She commanded as she lowered her salute.

Emma stared back, blank, bewildered.

“Okay, hi. No offence and don’t shoot me… but where am I and who are you and what the fuck happened to my fucking leg!”

Emma had now finally paid attention to her heavily bandaged, blood dried and slightly out of shape right leg. Well, she thinks it was her leg, the bandages being so thick and many that it felt as if it replaced skin.

“Ahh, we expected some slight amnesia after such a long period of com- “

“CO-…CO-… COMA! How long have I been out?” Emma panickily interrupted the agent.

The colonel responded politely, “It’s been 3 months since you blacked out Miss Perkins.”

Emma sat there in silence, trying to focus on whether she should prioritize her memory of before those 3 months or how to process the fact she’s been in sleepy land for 3 months.

“Can you remember any of the events before your induced state?”

Emma sat there, focusing on what could have happened. All she remembered was a regular shift at Beanies, serving shitty coffee and pastries over and over. But then she was singing… ‘Ugh Zoey! That bitch! Constantly having us sing and dance for customers who couldn’t give two shits to leave a tip unless they got something in return. Then that guy came in, the cute one in the suit. What was his name? Saul? No, no that’s not his name… THE METEOR! Of course! With Professor Hidgens! Those three other people I didn’t know. The one who was a jerk, the sweet one who saved his daughter… I think, and the one who was married to the alien police officer. Yeah, that’s right- ALIENS! The singing, blue goo, fucking aliens! We got out then… the helicopter crash! That’s what happened to my leg! That guy, I liked that guy… I loved that guy. He went to go and stop them, blow up the meteor… in the theatre… hey that rhymed. What was his name…… PAUL!’

The thoughts swam through her mind at what felt like a million miles. The images photo stamped in her brain. Hidgens dancing, the blue goo in the coffee, hoping her family was okay, watching that poor jerk be converted, the chopper crash and… Paul.

“Yep, she remembers.” The male soldier in the corner explained to his colleague. Smiling at the confused Emma, almost as if… he read her mind. To him he just saw a performance of facial expressions. ‘How could he know what she was thinking’ Emma started to wonder, zoning into this strange man before wiping it from her memory as images of Paul became much more frequent and painful for her.

“Paul! Paul Matthews! Did he make it!” Emma screamed more urgently than she had ever done before in her life. “Did he stop them! The Aliens! With the singing blue goo shit… he was going to blow up the meteor, in the theatre- “

The strange, wild looking man chuckled in the corner interrupting Emma’s panicked state, “Nice! That rhymed!”

Emma snapped, “Shut up. Who are you anyway?”

The stern gentleman stood up, saluted and replaced his manic grin with an expression of professionalism, respecting Emma as if she were a fellow officer.

“I, Miss Perkins, am General John McNamara from the United States military. Special Unit P.E.I.P. We call it – “

“Stop with the fanfare McNamara…” His colleague interrupted, rolling her eyes.

“Hey! Keep it professional Schaffer.” He responds jokingly yet sounding slightly hurt.

Emma sits there still stressed, hoping to God they move on with the conversation.

“Okay McNamara, Schaffer…Who the fuck are you guys!?” She questioned the soldiers.

They stand there, a mixture of intrigue and fear at the aggravated barista. Schaffer steps closer to the bed… a monologue clearly incoming.

“My colleague and I run this organization to track down, investigate, and if necessary, annihilate… let’s say, uncommon threats. P.E.I.P. has spent countless years assembling the best of military and intellectual brilliance to protect Hatchetfield and this Earth against attacks similar to the meteorite incident.”

John stepped up to join her. “It would stun you to believe that the Hatchetfield incident was far from the first of it’s kind. In fact, there are countless alien and supernatural dangers lurking in and out of this quiet town. All of them. Every single Hatchetfield! You see Emma, it has become common knowledge to us here at P.E.I.P that multiple Hatchetfields exist within something commonly known to you… as a multiverse. However, you will have had no idea about any of this. Not a P.E.I.P…”

There was a short silence, enough time for at least one tumbleweed to travel past.

“WHAT IN THE MARVEL FUCKING SHIT IS THIS! YEAH, I KNOW ABOUT THE ALIENS! NOW I DON’T GIVE A COCK – SUCKING SHIT ABOUT THE ORGANIZATION. No offence for anything towards anything and everything you stand for… BUT WHERE THE FUCK IS PAUL MATTHEWS!” Emma screamed, shaking the walls of the tent.

There was another short silence, before General Schaffer finally blinked and looked at her clip board.

“Now, Emma. While you have been unconscious, I myself, as the only survivor, have worked on treating every soldier inside this facility. Curing them of the disease spread through the alien spore. Beyond that we have started to make our way through curing the quarantined Hatchetfield. Curing countless survivors and still going. We, of course, had to use blood samples as part of the treatment.” She walked over to the machinery Emma was wired into, tilting the screen to allow Emma to see.

“Some was taken from your blood.” She continued. “Some was sampled from myself…”

“And some.” McNamara interrupted, eager to steal the spotlight. “Was taken from the only uninfected survivor of the Meteorite explosion.” He left the tent, marching out of sight. He peaked his head around the corner, overly excited but still holding professionalism.

Schaffer turned to Emma, offering her hand. Emma nervously shook it. “My full name is Colonel Schaffer.”

Emma smirked. “So, are you allowed to tell me your first name or IS your first name Colonel?”

Colonel Schaffer looked deeply at Emma’s soul and winked. Then turned to McNamara. “I’ll help you bring in patient zero.”

They both left the tent, leaving Emma in a confused and frightened state of isolation. She could hear the clinking of machinery outside, as if they were releasing a creature from its cage. However, as she heard the moans and grunts of a tired man, her fears of some carnivorous monster were put at ease. She could hear footsteps approaching. Two sets of boots, and one set shuffling more, as if it were bare feet, another patient. She watched as the silhouette of the figure traveled around the side of the tent. It was a man, about the size of 6ft (ish). Good looking, as far as a disfigured shadow can be. He was getting closer, closer to Emma’s point of view… At last, he came into clear view… Paul!

He stood there, tears forming in his eyes, jaw dropped and shivering. “Emma?”

She shared an almost exact reaction. “Paul?”

He ran to her bedside, desperate to hold her, to kiss her, God, he’s missed her so much. Three months trapped in a mental prison of anxiety over if she survived. He arrived at her bedside, leaning down, inches away from her face within the speed of light… and they head bumped.

As Paul lifted himself off of the cold, metal floor. He rested on his knees, secured Emma’s injured head. Leaned in, and kissed her. Thankfully, there was no blood spray this time round.

“Here he is.” McNamara boomed. “Patient zero. A man with such a hatred of musical theatre that the virus couldn’t fully take over his mind and soul. Paul Matthews, the guy who didn’t like musicals.”

Paul and Emma finally let go of their deep kiss. They turn to McNamara.

“Made me sound quite cool.” Paul observed with a proud and smug smile. “I kind of like it.”

He turns back to see Emma’s amused smile; they reach in for another kiss. Emma stops and points at McNamara.

“Holy fuck! You killed Ted you son of a bitch! You're one of them!"

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 

Cold. That’s all I could feel. Cold. Cold flowing through my skin, my veins, my organs, my heart. A sharp sting on my skin, my arms and neck. Needles, oh god I hate needles! I’m hoping that’s where all this cold is coming from, some kind of medicine. Why can’t I open my eyes? Oh, wait, they’re closed. Silly me. Okay and… open.

All that he could see was blue, waves upon waves of deep blues. Like an avalanche, mixing within each other, however some were dying. Being replaced by other colours. Greys, yellows, blacks, whites and greens. They started out by small dots in random areas but started to spread out like someone mixing paints… No! Like a roll of film being filtered and coloured into existence! Not before long, the blues faded, and the hospital room appeared around him.

Now the colours made sense to him. The grey of the walls and ceiling. The yellow of the blanket and his gown. The green of some toy doll on the TV ahead of him. He focused in on the cute, fuzzy doll, thinking Alice might like it. Wiggle? Wibble? Whatever it was called, he was sure Alice would just love to tickle its little belly.

ALICE! WHERE’S ALICE! He started to rise up in bed in fear. Combating his ringing sound and blurred vision to try and locate a nurse or a doctor. Nobody was there. Except, of course! The black and white colour that was in his eyes. He focused on them. They connected to a man sat in an uncomfortable, plastic, green sofa in the corner of the room. Black hair, white shirt, black tie, trousers and shoes! Who was he? He leaned in closer, making the bed creak, causing this mysterious figure to lift his head from in-between his knees. The figure seemed to wipe his eyes and move closer to the bed. Then, his vision started to clear enough to spot more details. Just one key detail. A moustache.

His heart raced, a familiar face. Even if it was linked to a jerk, it was still someone he knew. His anxiety and vision eased as he came into crystal clear view… Ted Spankoffski.
His voice echoed through the ringing, still lingering through his ears

.
“Hey Bill, how you holding up.” He smiled, a genuine and caring smile.
‘What’s happened to Ted?’ Bill responsively wondered.

2 days earlier:

He sat there, glaring at the men in black in front of him. Confused, tired, a little horny and wondering how the fuck they managed to stop an alien invasion. Ted raised his fingers to his temple, processing through his thoughts.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. I died, then I became an alien… and now, I’m just shoved back into existence. So, I cheated death or the laws of time or some bullshit?”
The soldier rested his leg up onto the bed, rested his clutched arms on his knee and scratched his neat beard. McNamara began to speak.

“You see sir, the aliens took over the human body through murder. They would kill the human, then use their dying state to infect the human with the alien spore.”
He took a pause for breath and smirked, looking at his knee. He spoke to himself, believing he was unheard.
“Similar to that vampire nest we took down in project suck-suck.”

Ted’s face grew wider and more expressive than humans deemed possible. McNamara noticed this and drew fearfully on his cigarette.

“You didn’t hear that, that’s classified.” McNamara defensively explained. He threw his cigarette out of the window and continued his explanation to Ted.

“So, we reversed the process. We withdrew the alien spore out of your heart and used survivors blood samples and various techno doodah, yes that’s the real term for it, to set you back to human.”

Ted sat there, blinking and twitching his top lip, causing his moustache to dance. He looked confused, but yet he still understood. It was frightening and new but he understood.

Then a look of pure aggression and fear struck him. He grabbed McNamara’s military vest and pulled him closer. McNamara stayed calm but clutched his right hand on his firearm. Prepared to act.

Ted’s breathing was erratic, his brow was furrowed, spit started to form between his painfully gritted teeth.

“You shot me! You fucking killed me you fucking prick! I was about to be saved by you and your shitty team and then you shot me!”

He looked down towards McNamara’s hand, resting on the holster of his pistol. Ted turned pale.

“How do I know you won’t do the same now, to keep me quiet?” Fear had taken over his anger, he was on the verge of pleading, begging for his life. McNamara took his hand off his weapon and rested it on Ted’s hands, slowly releasing his grip.

“Son, I am sorry for what my alien possessed mind did to you. It has filled me with true anguish for the people which I killed that day.” Emotion started to seep through his military exterior, Ted slowly released the pressure of his grip in empathy.

“I hate musicals, and I hate hurting the innocent. I lost every right that I had to be a true red-blooded American. I am no longer infected I can assure you.”

McNamara wiped a single tear from the edge of his eyelids. He allowed Ted to let go and rest against the bed. Feeling closer to each other, emotionally. The officer strode over to the surgery equipment on the other side of the ward. Tools patiently waiting for another procedure. 

He picked up a scalpel and pressed it firmly against his palm.

“The alien imposters had very little obvious physical differences from humans. However, there blood was coloured blue. And as you can see Ted…”

McNamara proceeded to make a small incision into his palm. Red, human blood dripped onto the black and white floor.

“As anatomically human as they come.” McNamara placed the scalpel back onto the tray, separate from the clean utensils, he started to mend his hand with bandages.

Ted sat there in embarrassed silence. He panicked and eagerly changed the subject.

“So, how’s Hatchetfield holding up while I’ve been out?”

McNamara turned pale, pacing over the to the soldier stood monitoring Teds medical equipment. The soldier looked up at his colleague, and understood. Prepared to take over.
The soldier began to speak.

“Hatchetfield has been left quite barren since you last saw it. Buildings obliterated, meteor chunks seeping blue goo into the sewer systems, dying zombies crawling and singing acapella as some kind of mating call to the other infected. It’s become a hell hole. We’ve managed to rebuild small sectors. A village where the gradual survivors can live out temporarily with free supplies as we widen up the town.”

Ted painfully scrambled out of bed, used his drip as a cane, and stumbled towards the window. He drew back the curtains, and saw the fog sweeping through his demolished town. It was heartbreaking, and he didn’t give a fuck about Hatchetfield. McNamara and the soldier stood beside Ted.

“My colleague and I have some news to inform you of Mr. Spankoffski.”

Ted chuckled, “What now? Have the Cinnabon’s closed down?”

“We understand that you worked with a group of survivors, some of which we are treating in this base as we speak. We spoke to one of them, Emma Perkins, about the members who were with you.”

The soldier stared into McNamara’s deep eyes, he nodded in response. The soldier, Wilbur, continued.

“Most of your group survived, however, one of the bodies was killed during infection. Therefore, we could not reverse the process. I am afraid that one of your friends has died.”

Ted froze. He didn’t know whether to cry, vomit or just collapse. He never thought he cared for any of them, but it turns out, deep down, he kind of did.

McNamara took the clipboard out of the soldiers’ hands.

“My colleague, Wilbur Cross made a list of the names Emma mentioned, it’ll say the names which will join the list of the dead.”

Ted took the list off of McNamara, and did his best to focus his blurred vision onto the names below. He began to think..
‘Paul’s okay! Thank fuck! Emma made it; well, I knew that. Wait, Bill!? Bill got out? Shirly fucking temple made it? Good for him. That means…’

Ted dropped the clipboard, and shivered. He felt what he imagined drowning would feel like. He sunk into his mental abyss.

Wilbur put a hand on Ted’s soldier, “We are preparing a funeral service for when the rest of your friends are fully recovered. It’ll be a private service, just your group and our P.E.I. Ps as guards.”

Ted nodded and shook Wilbur’s other hand, “Thank you.”

McNamara guided Ted back to his bed.

“You’ll be on some more fluids for a few more days than you’ll be good to go.”

Ted sunk into the mattress, he barely noticed that the officers had left the room. He laid there, feeling his heart beat slower, the strands between the organ beginning to thin, close to breaking. One thought playing over and over again in his mind.

‘I should have said it, I should have said it… why didn’t I say it…’

Back to the present:

Bill looked into Teds watery eyes. Sinking in everything that was said to him. The aliens, the resurrection process, everything. Trying his best to process the news of their deceased friend most of all.

Then Ted did something, something that seemed impossible for Ted to do, especially to Bill. Ted reached closer, and hugged Bill.

Bill slowly wrapped his arms around Ted, unsure of whether this was part of a cruel joke, but he appreciated Teds touch and found it just as comforting as it was frightening.

“I’ve fucking missed you, Bill.” Ted whimpered into his shoulder. Bill tightened his grip; he truly knew that there was something bitterly wrong with the world.

After moments, but what felt like eternity, Ted finally stood back up, clearing his throat and drying his eyes, retreating to the corner. The small puddle of tears stinging Bills shoulder with the cold. They heard a knock at the door.

Wilbur Cross stuck his head around the door.

“Am I interrupting anything gents? I can come back later.”

Bill cleared his choked-up throat. “No sir, you can come in.”

Ted turned back around, facing Wilbur.

“Oh, Bill, this is Wilbur, he’s been helping me through the process and brought me up to speed with everything.”

Bill offered Wilbur his hand, he firmly shook it.

“That’s a fine grip.” Bill winced. “My name is Bill Woodward.”

Wilbur enthusiastically shook Mr. Woodward’s hand, “Yeah, I know who you are.”

Wilbur checked Bills rates on the various screens.

“Looks like today is your last day in here, you’re practically good to go, those extra days in bed must have done you good.

Bill’s petrified confusion snapped for a moment. The aliens, being brought back from the dead, everything disappeared. Except of course for Ted who was still shell shocked by the TV.
Bills new world was put on hold, when he heard Alice running down the corridor.

“Dad!?” Alice cried.

Bill turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his feet hovering above the floor.

“Alice! My God! Alice!”

Bill reached out his arms, Alice ran towards them. As she was running, Bill could see Alice, but so much younger. Her pig tails flapping behind her, crayons falling out of her dungaree pockets as her tiny legs went as fast as the could towards him. Clutching her teddy unicorn as she smiled, even though some teeth had fallen out, it was the most beautiful smile Bill had ever seen. His beautiful daughter, his little girl. As she drew closer, she grew older. Pig tails turned into plats, her dolls turned into high graded report cards, dungarees became much more trendy clothing. And even though there were more teeth, that smile was the same beautiful one that grinned at him when she was a toddler. She will always be, his little girl.

They held each other in an embrace that couldn’t be tighter if they tried. Their skeletons felt as if they were growing purple. Alice began to weep, Bill desperately fighting back tears.

“I’m so sorry Dad, I didn’t mean any of it. Anything I said or did. I love you so much dad and I promise when all this is over, I’m going to spend so much more time with you. I’ve been seeing so much of Deb and mum I just-.”

Bill had pushed Alice back and placed a finger to her lips.

“As long as you’re okay, that’s what matters. I love you too.”

Ted turned over the channel on the TV to the Hatchetfield News report. Dan and Donna grinned ecstatically at the camera.

“Good morning! Thanks to the wonderful military team known as P.E.I.P., Hatchetfield is slowly rebuilding itself back into normality.” Donna beamed to the audience.

“That’s amazing Donna! It’s been a long time since I’ve said that. The military have made a statement saying that the current survivors have been in comatose states between a few months to up to 3 years. During this time, they have been clearing up the alien infestation and gradually been making it safer for us to rebuild our society.” Dan read the autocue without a single blink.
“Thanks Dan, now before we look further into what we’ve missed these past couple of years, a story first from one of the towns only people to not get infected. Our furry little hero… Peanuts!”

Everyone in the hospital turned to the TV and smiled. Bill, Alice, Wilbur and Ted all sighed… in exact unison…
“Awh! Peanuts!”

End of chapter 2.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

The two soldiers marched down the corridor, keeping him in front of them, blocking any chance of exit. The grey corridor echoes with the march of their thick, military boots as they sternly guide their prisoner further through the facility. Occasionally having to give slight shoves to keep him moving away from any confidential rooms. Moments of him staring with maniacal glee at their arsenal of tech and weapons like a kid in Toy Zone. The soldiers having to be more forceful than they’d like to be.

The prisoner in question seemed to have a slight spring to his step. Walking as if his movements were choreographed to classical music. The alien virus had completely left his system, so he seemed to be a musical nut before the blue goop had sunk into his blood stream. His grey hair curled and swished as he glanced from window to window, like an addict desperate for the next hit, hoping to spot another shiny toy. That is until one of his guards rudely shoves him forward again.

It isn’t long before they arrive at their destination. An interrogation rooms. The prisoner takes his seat, observes the room around him. Besides the door and table, he spots a CCTV camera, and on his right, a two-way mirror, just like the movies. He freezes however, when he realises somethings different. He notices that his physical appearance has changed distinctly. He seems to be skinnier, more prominent facial features, and much shorter. His hair and voice are still the same, but every other detail is different. Like he’s been put inside a completely new body. One of the soldiers notices him studying his reflection.

“You’ve finally noticed the difference in your appearance.” The stern gentleman observed.
The Prisoner jumps at his voice, turning toward him.
“Yes. When I woke up you made it quite clear that you restored the other patients to their original appearance.”
The other soldier left the room as the conversation began.
“We did.” The soldier returned, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. “But you should remember that we explained how in some cases, such as yourself, there were some complications.” He puts a cigarette into his mouth and tosses the packet onto the table.
“Yes, but I assumed that meant some scaring or something. Not the fact I’d fucking shrink!” The prisoner snapped. The veins in his arms pulsating as he tenses, getting angrier. The soldier notices this as he lights the cigarette and steps towards the chair opposite the angered scientist, resting his arms on the metal chair.
“Please do try to remain calm sir. We at P.E.I.P have done what we can to help you.” His tone remaining calm, showing that he clearly is in charge of the situation. He slowly sets himself comfortably into the chair and observes the man opposite him.

They sit in a silence for a short amount of time. The room slowly being glazed in the thin layer of smoke from the soldier’s cigarette, the second-hand nicotine seeping into the prisoners’ fresh lungs, causing the man to occasionally cough.

After what felt like hours, the soldiers companion returned, this time carrying a black metallic briefcase. He places it onto the table, the loud clash of the two metals causing an echo in the tight room. He starts to open the case and take out the obscure equipment from inside. He hasn’t seen anything like this in his life, however, from the set-up routine of wires and controls it’s taking, it appears to be some form of recording equipment. That plus the situation he’s found himself in. After more wires are plugged in, a switch is flicked, and the box hums into life, pulsating a noise like nothing of this Earth.

“All set up John.” The soldier says as he steps back. He leans against the wall, arms by his side, one of which dangling close to his holster, fingers almost twitching to grasp it.
The man opposite him takes the cigarette and drops it onto the floor. Crushing it under his boot, staring intensely into his eyes with every crunch the cigarette suffered.

“Alright, lets start this shit. Interview with Professor Henry Hidgens. Conducted by Officer John MacNamara at 12:15pm eastern standard time.” He states while checking his watch.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a procedure that everyone has had to go through.” Hidgens chuckles, sweat starting to slowly grow in his palms as the tension kicks in further.
“What makes you say that?” MacNamara asks.
“I’ve watched the news. I’ve seen the interviews of patients you’ve helped and let free. They’ve said how well they were treated. How much care they received and it being a warm and welcoming environment. I know this is to scare me. What do you want to know huh? What ideas of mine are you wanting to steal. First it was Alexa, what’s next!?”
MacNamara watches with fascination. He seems to say everything in the one tone of stress and pressure. Like a creature is trying to escape his body, and he’s poorly hiding it.
“We have no interest in any ideas professor. We received some intel that has interested us. That might affect if or if not, we let you leave this facility. We have been told that you helped to aid the invasion.”

Hidgens turned white. His blood went cold. Not at the fact they know his opinions on the invasion. He made it clear to Emma that he truly believes that these otherworldly visitors were the next step in the planets evolutionary change. But now a threat has been placed against this belief. Will he be kept as a prisoner? A test subjects. Or simply executed.
Hidgens gulped as he spoke, “I truly believed, after studying what this new species wanted with this Earth, that they were trying to help us. I offered myself to join them. That is all. I never gave them any knowledge or aid in their cause as far as I’m aware. I just simply gave in to their demands.”
“Yes, but when you gave in it placed other survivors at risk. A woman named Emma Perkins and a man named Ted Spankoffski, who trusted you and stayed with you for survival.” MacNamara’s tone and glare remained calm and emotionless, not giving anything to Hidgens to use as an advantage.
“That was never my intention, I never wanted to hurt them.”
John cracks and lets out a slight giggle. “Henry, you drugged Emma and said how all survivors should give into their, as you call it, demands.”

Henry leaned back in his chair, staring at the camera in the corner of the ceiling, realising there’s nothing he could do or say that would get him out of this situation.
He sighs, and closes his eyes, imagining the firing squad lined up in front of him. Red dots aiming at his forehead, as the blindfold is placed around his eyes.
“All I wanted, was to tell her my pitch.” Henry sounds truly defeated. He’s quiet, melancholy, and tired.
This peaks the bearded soldier’s interest. He takes out another cigarette.
“Tell me.” His voice slightly muffled as his lips clutch around the cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. “What’s the pitch?”
Henry’s eyes open, wide, and excited. His head slowly tilts down from the ceiling towards the general. and his mouth cracks into a small but evil grin.
“Really?” He’s almost in disbelief.
“Hit me.” MacNamara certifies with an encouraging smirk.

Henry leans forward, stretching his arms as if he was to present a magic trick. “Well, it’s called, ‘Working Boys’, a new musical-“
MacNamara takes the cigarette out of his mouth and switches off the recording device. His cheeks turning a slight sickly green.
“Yep, I think that’s everything I need to hear.” He stands up and taps the other soldier’s arm. His colleague responds to this and starts to pack up the recording device. The interrogation session now seemingly complete. Much to Henry’s confusion and slight disappointment.

“So, what was this for?” Henry questions. “Since you were so confident in the facts you were given before asking if they were true, why did we even have this conversation? All you received was my slight confession that it was true.”

MacNamara smirked and walked towards the professor, like a missile towards its target. Henry slowly started to step back out of instinct. He didn’t make it that far back before John grabbed his arm and spun him, so Henrys back was facing him. Henry heard nothing but the general giggle and felt his finger poke the back of his neck.
“Feel that professor?” The general asked as he slowly twirled his fingertip around the cold patch of new skin. “Inside there is a special microchip. Something we’ve been able to create at this facility. It allows us to record somebodies’ thoughts and memories. Lets us see the things you’re not telling us.”
Henry pushed himself forward, instantly clutching at his neck and starting to panic.

"It connects to the machine inside my colleague’s briefcase. When that’s activated, it records every thought you have. Every word, every image. Whether it matches what you tell us or not. We’ve got more than we need professor. Please follow us back to your room.” He walks cockily toward the door of the box room, holding it open for the cowardly scientist.
Hidgens stands in shock and frustrating awe before slowly shuffling his way out of the chamber and back to the corridor. Before he goes, John places a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about that firing squad. We don’t tend to make moves that drastic around here.” He winks and walks down the corridor, the other soldier marching slowly behind. As the professor is left stumbling behind them slowly. Both impressed and terrified.

Once the walk is complete, he sits on the edge of his bed. His head scrambling for ideas.
‘An escape could work. Not sure fucking how but it could. At least it would be better than fucking Shawshank’ he thinks to himself.

As he loses himself in his thoughts, his TV flickers on. Though he didn’t touch the remote. The screen flickers to show Dan and Donna of Hatchet field news. Except something was wrong. They were speaking, but the audio was distorted and low. Their mouths were dripping a dark purple liquid, staining their teeth a bizarre colour.
Henry stood from his bed and moved closer to the television, curiosity getting the better of him. Theirs something else about the programme. They’re not in their usual studio. Henry can’t tell where they are but its swirls of black and white grains. Similar to television static. But the most distinct thing he notices, is there eyes. They aren’t there. Instead, their empty sockets with a slight purple glow
.
Hidgens breath increases, fear writhing within him, he paces backwards, desperately swinging his arm trying to find the remote, too scared to take his eyes from the TV.
A soldier enters the room politely. “Hey Henry, I’ve just come to ch-“
The soldier notices the TV screen, completely shellshock, he turns to the startled professor.
“What the fuck! Did you do this?” The soldier screams slightly.
The professor manages to grab the remote and turn the screen off. He stands there for a moment, frozen, panting.

“There’s something else. Another apotheosis.” Henry finally whispers.
The soldier stares at him, wide eyed and pale. “Apotheosis?”
Hidgens smirks slightly. “Get General John MacNamara.” He booms. “I think I have some more information for him.” He slowly turns to the soldier, like a predator teasing its prey.
The soldier stumbles backwards out of the room, running as fast as he can.

Hidgens sits on the bed, any plan of escape wiped from his memory. He may have just found his escape.

Something else is here. In Hatchet field. There’s something much more than a meteor in the starlight theatre. Something is coming…

Chapter Text

A couple days had passed, the town of hatchet field has been slowly rebuilding, and survivors have been waking up. Not as many as P.E.I.P. had initially hoped, but still more than enough to survive. The set village that was being constructed for the residents to live in had been completed. The first batch and even first residents settled comfortably. Unfortunately, even in a post singing apocalypse world, money can still buy you a step ahead in the cue. Linda Monroe, president of the hatchet field boating society, and her four blonde sons were settling, and mostly complaining, into their new lives. While her husband, Dr Gerald Monroe, works within the facility itself. At least it's quiet. There's occasional drunken rioting but, at the end of the day, there's hardly anything worth stealing. At night, a teenage jock can be spotted breaking into stores or sneaking around the chastity families campsite, but he's mostly harmless. He keeps hidden in the shadows, but he still wears his now muddied and torn varsity jacket with pride. The other residents keep to themselves mostly. A quiet teenage girl being protected by her older sister oddly blending in with a brooding single father and his young son. Residents from ex toy-shop owners, camp councilors, and even diner waitresses, all using or adapting their mundane skills into building their new lives. Their past secrets and plans replaced with the base needs of survival.
The first batch of patients, including the non infected patient zeros, are all heading to a conference type room. Soldiers walking with them, and their family members close by. Bill Woodward is being supported through a limp by his daughter Alice. Even his ex wife came to visit him, carrying his bag and smiling sweetly at the rapport between him and their daughter. Bill hid his inner joy of not only reconnecting with his family, but also hearing that Alice had broken up with Deb in the recovery process. Turns out there was someone called Ziggs involved? Either way, Alice seemed much more like herself, happier. Bill was tailored with a neatly ironed shirt, black trousers, brogue shoes, and a dark wool coat.While his daughter and ex wife wear suitable yet stylish black dresses and boots.
Slowly behind them, walking at a slower pace, too deep in his own thoughts, was Ted Spankoffski. Creases now starting to form in his black suit as he keeps nervously unbuttoning and buttoning his blazer. No family has come to see Ted, not that he’s really got any. Not any that would bother seeing him or have made it through the process.
They have both recently left Bill's room, not long after Bill had woken up and they had been escorted out by Wilbur. Something wrong with the news broadcast or something. They were told the briefing of what would happen, that they were going to meet their friends before being escorted through hatchet field, or what’s left of it, to the funeral service. They don’t believe the others know of what happened, they can at least grieve together instead of being alone.
Emma and Paul sat together in a large conference hall, the kind you see in the white-house when the President gives statements. They sat in the front of many rows of fold-able plastic seats, before them a small black stage with a stand and microphone, abandoned and coated in a thin layer of dust and cobwebs. Two of the PEIP guards stood at either side of the stage, staring outward above the couples heads toward the back of the hall.
Paul was wearing his signature suit, this time being black instead of brown, with his white shirt, matching tie and shoes. He kept glancing over at Emma, wearing a stylish yet appropriate black dress and heeled boots. Her makeup was as simple and perfect as he’d always loved. This was the first time that he’d seen her in something other than hospital gowns or a beanies uniform.
Emma turned to Paul, finally feeling herself for the first time in months, and couldn’t help but smile. Even though he wears the exact same thing everyday, he really looks good in a suit. It was going to be weird for her to see him in anything else, but she was looking forward to it. Paul watched, his heart skipping lightly, still in disbelief that she looks at him this way. That she’s smiling at him, blushing at him, staring into his eyes. Paul was the luckiest man in Hatchet Field. Not because of his recovery or surviving an alien invasion, but because he had Emma Perkins, his 'latte hatte' as Ted would say, on his arm.
Fear started to twist his heart as her face morphed from a glowing smile into accusing confusion.
“Wait.” She interrupted loudly, turning around, not realizing how empty the hall was until now. “So, you were one of the first people to be woken? Cause your blood was used for everybody else right?” Even though she was asking a simple question, Paul still found her confusion a little frightening, he simply nodded in response, guiltily as if he’d done something wrong. “So what was it like for you? From what I’ve been told your friends had these experiences of blue colors and slight flashes of what they did coming through their memory like waves. Did you have that?”
Paul tried to recall, he’s been awake for so much longer than anybody else.
“Well, when I went to the starlight theater, I was attacked. A group of them slowly converted me. They were using people I knew to try and get through. Ted, Professor Hidgens, my boss, and even the one at beanies I think.” Emma rolled her eyes at the mere reference of her old boss. “Safe to say, I managed to destroy the meteor before they could really get to me. I was told by John that, when they found me, it was more of a standard surgery rather than alien extraction. My blood and body was still pure, but my mind wasn’t. Still now, in the back of my mind I can hear lyrics and songs from musicals. It’s agony.” Paul retold his experience with a genuinely pained expression, his voice stuttering and cracking occasionally. Emma places a comforting hand around Paul. “God, that must be awful.” She replied empathically, sometimes she’ll have a musical number stuck in her head due to working with Zoe, she still shudders when she hears the tune to ‘A Chorus Line.’ Paul took Emma's hand and deepened his breathing. “But, I’m getting there. Just listening to other music and keeping the brain occupied as best as I can. I’m not going to start singing and dancing, I've been assured of that.” He laughed lightly and Emma leaned her head on his shoulder. He then swallowed lightly, decided to go with his gut, and tell her the one thing he was scared to say to her. He lifted her arm from around him, and turned to face her. Taking both of her hands in his, his hands beginning to sweat. Emma wanted to scream and reject his hands at the damp sensation but decided to bite her tongue and focus, she hadn't seen him look this nervous.
“I was told to fight off the infection in the first few days, to focus on what I wanted. What I actually wanted. And through that I’d be able to pull myself out.” He awkwardly shifted towards her, and she leaned in closer, her pupils growing bigger and her heart starting to race. “It was you, Emma. All I could think about was you.” He smiled at her, feeling brave and proud of his gut instincts, for once, and he hoped her reaction was one of love and not an urge to slap him.
Her mind was racing, obviously they knew they had feelings for each other. They’ve spent nights holding each other in her bed through recovery. The first thing they did when they reunited was kiss. He was the reason she wanted to recover and leave, not just to get off the island but to take him with her. Tears started to form in her eyes, nobody has been this kind to her or shown her this much love. She tried to form words, any words, but she couldn’t. Instead, she moved one hand up to his cheek, caressing her fingertips across his skin delicately. “Thank you, Paul. Thank you for saving my life.” She had to fight the urge to sputter through her tears. As he blazoned his stupid smile, she closed her eyes slowly, and reached in for their second kiss. A genuinely beautiful, magical moment…
Which was interrupted by Wilbur Cross opening the loud and clunky metal door into the dimly lit hall.
Emma and Paul awkwardly turned away from each other. Paul caught his breath and Emma wiped the tears from her eyes, the only contact they still held, was holding each others hands by their sides, hidden from view. Wilbur left a painfully long pause, knowing what he interrupted and not knowing how to act. The only sound to play through the hall were sniffles, the sniffling tears from one of the masked PEIP guards. Finding Emma and Paul's' discussion far too moving. His comrades did a double take before he embarrassingly coughed up his tears and left the room along with the other soldier, who slapped the teary man around the back of his helmet. Once they’d left, Wilbur awkwardly strolled over to the new couple. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but, if you’re ready, we have some friends who you might want to see.” He had his hands clenched together, as if he was a curator of a museum. Emma's and Paul's faces began to light up, the tension fading and their excitement growing. Paul turned to her, wanting to make sure she was comfortable. She gave a second of thought, thinking of anyone she’d feel unsafe around. She was certain that Hidgens was kept in a cell inside the facility, and she could handle Ted considering that the last time she saw him he was dead. After contemplating, she turned to Wilbur, and gave a certain nod of approval. Wilbur's face lit up with a beaming grin. “Okay, I’ll just bring them in.” He turned towards the open door and breathed as if a brick was lifted off his chest. Considering he wasn’t the biggest fan of death and evil supernatural beings, there were some days he really loved this job, especially when he and John were on private missions but that was a memory for another day. He turned to whoever was hidden from Paul and Emma's view and gave a reassuring smile to them. “They would like to see you all” comfortingly inviting them in.

The first to walk, well, limp through, was Bill. Paul's best friend of so many years working together at the office. Paul stood up in his chair, a single tear forming in his right eye and holding his hand up to his mouth in pure disbelief. Even if he was assured by McNamara that he was alive and well, it’s still unbelievable to see him here, years after he was shot dead in front of him. “Paul?” Bill croaked, his daughter slowly letting go of her dad, knowing what was coming next. “Bill!” came the choked up reply. Paul lightly ran from his plastic seat to his friend, who slowly started to jog towards him. Fighting the pains in his legs to great a face he’s missed for so long. He hugged Bill tightly, assuring his friend that he was there for him, and how sorry he is that he didn’t save him, that he didn’t save any of them. As he looked up, Bill saw Emma standing there, crying lightly. Both at seeing these people alive again, and also how happy it made Paul feel, that his friends were okay, and he hadn’t truly lost them. He gave her a warm and comforting smile, which Emma matched and gave a small wave. Paul did the same to Alice and her mother, who Paul hadn’t seen since, well, since he gave his best man speech. The two men eventually released themselves from each other's grasp. Smiling brightly, no words, just knowing, almost physically, that they were both okay. Paul's face looked over Bill's shoulder to see another man, wearing practically the same suit, except much different facial hair.
“Ted! Buddy!” Paul shouted as he rushed over to his friend, who was staring at his shoes, unsure of where to look or how to act. Ted looked up to see Paul rushing toward him, arms open wide, Ted found it not only frightening, but undeserving.
“Hey Paul.” He sheepishly responded, Paul noticed that he wasn’t acting his usual smarmy self but thought it was best not to address it, especially considering why they were all there in black. Instead Paul leaned back, and patted Ted firmly on the shoulder, comforting him as best as he knew in a situation like this. Which wasn't very well.
People mingled and shared teary hugs and words of gratitude for their help surviving as best as they did along with still forgiving and caring for one another through the months at the facility. The cheerful reunion was interrupted when they heard having military boots clanking up the metal steps to the stage, taking place at the podium. A booming authoritative voice held the group's attention instantly.
“Ladies. Gentlemen. Variations thereupon. It’s an honor to see you together, and I’m very proud of all of our work here with my PEIPS.” He gave a sly smirk at his own joke, which was responded with blank faces, besides Bills of course, who loved it and gave a hearty grin in return. “If I could have your attention, I’ll give you the brief lowdown of our service today and some news on how you are leaving the facility.” The crowd's faces turned pale, as the occasion of the event really kicked in. And the thought of living in a strange new world was terrifying to them. McNamara also noticed this, and deepened his voice, sounding even more serious. “And, unfortunately I must inform you of someone else who will be visiting you. They won’t be at the service of course, but as part of a deal we’ve made with them, they wanted to speak with you.” He turned towards Wilbur, who was still standing by the door. The crowd looked nervously around one another. McNamara gave an ushering nod, Wilbur nodded in response, and stepped aside.
A short man, in an orange jumpsuit, was being dragged in by two soldiers, arms linked in between his, which were now handcuffed securely behind his back. He was looking down, but the sight of his grey hair was enough to make Paul and Emma grab each other's hands, tightening their grip in pure dread. Ted's face grew into a confused smile, and Bill looked honestly indifferent to the little man, not yet recognizing the recent makeover the chained scientist had received.
Henry Hidgens lifted his head, to see the faces of those he kept safe, the ones he tried to save, the ones who abandoned him.
“Hello again.” His maniacal voice rippled through the room. “Did you miss me, Emma?” His cold, long face turned to a Grinch like grin. As Emma's jaw slowly opened in shock and horror.

Chapter Text

What If I Told You We Made It?
Chapter Five
One Final Favour

Emma stood to attention, as if a jolt of electricity had shot itself through her body. She was backing up, as far away from the restrained scientist as possible, knocking the endless plastic fold down chairs as she went, trying her best not to trip in her tangled web. Tears of anger and fear streamed down her face as she stopped, and picked the nearest chair up in her clammy hands, and raised it high above her head. “You stupid motherfucker!” She screamed as she started charging toward Hidgens. As P.E.I.P guards started rushing toward her, Paul stepped in and grabbed the chair mid swing. He looked deep into her eyes, forming pools of tears, keeping her frozen in place. “Emma, look at me.” He said calmly, failing to pull her attention. He put his other hand against her arm, her eyes slowly leaving Hidgens and looking up into Pauls. “He’s not worth it, not anymore.” She looked back at the chained madman, seeing an expression which she couldn’t tell was close to fear or pride. She dropped the chair, echoing the hall with a loud bang. Paul let go of her arm, and turned to Wilbur. “Is this a fucking joke?”

As the guards were arranging the sea of plastic seats back into their original formality, everyone else awkwardly found spots for them to sit. Ted was quietly explaining the reason for Emma's outburst to Bill, which they both agreed was well deserved and were a little disappointed she didn’t go through with her attack. Wilbur pulled Emma and Paul closer, keeping out of peoples earshot. “He’s reacted differently to his treatment, not singing and dancing but…” He turned back to see Hidgens twiddling his feet and staring at Ted, almost mathematically, Wilbur took a disturbed mental note of this. “He is no threat, I assure you, we have him fully under our control. Insane as he is, his mind could be a great asset to some of our work. In return for his knowledge we’re granting a wish.” Throughout this explanation, Emma was slowly shaking her head, losing her faith in Wilbur and P.E.I.P with every new word. “A wish? You couldn’t get him a flying pony so we’ve gotta put up with his shit again?” Wilbur straightens his posture and gestures to the seats behind them. “The quicker we sit, and indulge in him, the sooner he’ll leave.” He sees Emmas and Paul's unconvinced scowls. “Please.” Wilbur utters. “Trust me.” Out of guilt, curiosity, or just naivety, they agree to take their seats. The two soldiers bring Hidgens onto the stage, still by his side as Wilbur stands in the middle of the room. “Guards.” He orders, calmly but authoritatively. “If he leaves that stage, unless I say so, shoot. Is that understood?” The sound of each guard aiming their rifles was enough to satisfy Wilburs confidence. “Henry, you have ten minutes, make it count.”

Henry looks around the auditorium, seeing faces of disgust and dread, his body fills with anticipation. He steps closer to the stand, and clears his throat. “I have one question, one simple question. And once it’s answered, I can assure that you will never see me again.” Their faces didn’t change, some even grew more aggressive. Until one, slowly shifted into slight curiosity. Not much, but enough for Henry to notice. Ted lifted his posture and asked, “What’s the pitch?” Henry’s mouth grew into a wild and defying grin. “I’m glad you asked Teddy boy, as it involves you.” Ted's curiosity instantly faded into fear, sure he liked the sound of ‘Working Boys’ but that was while he was tied up and set as bait. “And yours!” His head turned swiftly to the new couple, “My dear Emma.” Paul put his arm in front of Emma protectively, putting him between her and the stage. “Not for the same concept, but for two passion projects, which I believe you would both be vital toward.” He went to step toward the edge of the stage, but the guards pulled him back into his place. “With your mind Emma, being a remarkable student…” Emma's expression was still of frustration but she had to admit a slight layer of self confidence grew inside her, a flame which was swiftly extinguished as she’d rather die than feel flattered by him. “And your dim but potential talent…” Ted stood up in offence “Hey” he expressed, raising his arms at his sides. Bill empathetically tugged at Ted's blazer to bring him back to his seat. “You could assist me, as I write my new musical.”

An echoing groan rippled through the hall, bouncing off the walls as eyes were rolled and postures relaxed into irritation. Hidgens felt a familiar stab in his heart, his whole life his ideas were ignored but not today. He was going to use this second chance at life to push his dreams further than he thought were possible. “Well! Not a musical anyway… but a breath of artistic life into a tale we’ve all heard before. Drum roll please!” After a moment of silence, all that could be heard was a sniffle from one of the guards, and an exaggerated yawn from Emma, glaring deep into Hidgens’ soul. “Now, we have all heard… of the Ape-Man…” Wilbur pointed straight and bellowed. “That’s classified Hidgens, zip it!” Henry froze for a moment, stopping his speech dead in its tracks, almost mistaking his interruption for humour. Blinking in response, he stuttered, “But… I think that Mr. Spankoffski wo-” Wilbur marched toward the stage, his point translating as a threatening dagger to Hidgens’ growing anxiety. “I said zip it.” spit bubbling in Wilbur's teeth, Hidgens realised quickly this wasn’t a joke. A slow clap from Emma snapped him back into focus, she found it honestly refreshing to see him put in this position. Embarrassed beyond belief, as if his trousers were round his ankles, begging to be pointed and laughed at. “Wow professor.” She announced patronizingly, “Finally someone shuts you up. What made you think I’d help you work on one of your shitty musicals?”

Hidgens anxiety hit its peak, he hadn't felt like this since school. The hall started to morph and twist into a chilling memory from his past. The brick walls turned into windows and shelves, Paul and his friends turned into his old classmates, and their laughing at him… fucking laughing at him. Fingers pointed, eyes crying, bellies cramping with utter mocking humour. And Wilbur turned from his stern military figure, to the equally stern and military figure of his old professor. Even he was laughing, a grown man, laughing at a child's fantasy. Sure the school was academic but he wanted to sing and dance… and they laughed at him?

His head bowed in utter defeat, his words were barely heard. “I don’t know, I just thought I’d give it a shot.” Everyone in the room went silent, not sure on how to respond. They saw his silver haired head slowly lift to Wilbur, they could see a single tear start to slowly travel down his new face. “I’m ready to go now… there’s nothing for me here.” Wilbur Cross was utterly surprised, since his return he only knew Hidgens as a twisted little man. Driven by a perverse genius and maniacal cruelty… he felt a shiver of sympathy for the scientist. He nodded his head towards the large metal doors and the guards marched him out of the hall, and back to his cell. The metal doors slamming automatically behind him, the hall still in silence.

They all looked around at each other, eager as to who was going to crack the silence first and too anxious to do it themselves. Suddenly, Ted stood up. “The fuck did he mean potential talent? What an asshole!” He slumped back down, genuinely hurt by this remark. A quiet and reassuring giggle traveled its way between them, allowing the tension to ease itself out of the room. Wilbur took toward the platform. “So… now that’s over I would like to bring your attention back to the matter at hand.” The giggles died down as reality had struck them all once again, and they remembered the reasoning behind their attire. Wilbur cleared his throat and stepped close to the stand.

“Firstly, I’d like to apologise for how uncomfortable that negotiation must have made you all feel. We at PE.I.P understood how difficult it was but felt it necessary for reasons I unfortunately cannot disclose with you all.” He looked at Emma with an apologetic smile. “Emma, we weren’t aware of what he was wanting to discuss, and I regret not informing you earlier of this. On a personal note I’d like to apologise to you.” She gave a genuine smile and nodded her head in forgiveness. “I understand, thanks for tucking that shitbag's tail between his legs.” Ted's eyes darted between them, offended he wasn’t getting an apology but decided it wasn’t worth the argument.Wilbur gave a thankful nod in response before returning back to the topic at hand. “We’ll have two cars,” he continued, “to take you to the site. We already have men in that area who have assured us that it’s not only been cleaned and prepared, but that there will be no disturbances. Leaving you a space to grieve freely without fear of judgement or unwelcome observances. Our men will be there at the site but will not disturb you during the service.” He looked across the crowd, Paul had placed a vulnerable hand on Emma's knee, hoping for comfort. Which she had provided by taking his hand and leaving a gentle kiss of reassurance. Bill had put one arm around Alice who had slowly started to cry, his ex wife gave him a look of condolence, which he took gratefully. Ted had leaned forward, resting his chin on his closed hands. His eyes red from crying, and his mouth curling into a sad frown.
Wilbur refocused and continued. “From myself, General McNamara, and the rest of our team. We offer our condolences and deepest apologies that there was nothing more our scientists could do. I assure you that we put our best efforts and greatest minds at work…” He saw Ted's head raise, and turn into a glare. He knows that Ted doesn’t blame them, but understands why he won’t forgive them. “But there was nothing we could do. Too much blood had been lost, and her mind was too far gone. We are sorry, and we offer our support and advice in this difficult matter, thank you.”

Wilbur Cross marched toward the metal doors, and held one open, watching everyone slowly rise from their seats and gather toward each other. “If you would like to make your way outside please.” As they shuffled out of the hall, a P.E.I.P officer was handing out booklets. Each person took them with gratitude but felt too uneasy to look into its contents. The booklets read, ‘In remembrance of Charlotte Sweetly. Devoted wife, and dear friend.’