Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bluish-white light wafted across his face in the otherwise pitch black room. It tinted his skin a ghostly pale color, and nullified the colors of the tattoos painting his neck. Keyboard keys clicked softly, connected to different monitors stacked haphazardly on the desk. Large bunches of wires ran underneath, snaking and tangling in neatly tied off sections. He stared intently at the bottom center computer, typing away on a forum.

The website was decorated in old black and white photos of blurry shapes. Everything was bathed in a mustard yellow, margins decorated with rusted signs. There were links to popular theories at the top, including government snake people, birds being spies for the bourgeoisie, and other stuff in that vein. The other four computers were open to similar websites, what most would call conspiratorial.
Many websites in this niche have stories of Bigfoot, the Jersey Devil, the Chupacabra, and the like. Those are all, of course, just stories locals tell. Point is, conspiracies are mostly just that—stories. Convoluted tales made up by delusional skeptics to convince themselves that the end times are coming. Maybe to attract tourists as a side effect. Joel didn’t support junk like that ninety-nine percent of the time, except for one subject.

He scrolled back to the top of the page and leaned back in his chair, which squeaked in response. With his arms behind his head, he compared the articles on each of the monitors. The websites all showed the same image—A low quality photo taken of a large creature hunched over its mangled prey. Its eyes reflected red from the camera flash, and the beast stared directly at the viewer from over its shoulder.

The headlines portrayed a clear image: “Aliens in Arizona” “Alien spotted in Arizona” “Aliens are real and they’re in the USA”. Out of all conspiracies, Joel wholeheartedly believed that aliens were real.
He had loved all things sci-fi and space from a young age. Otherworldly machinery, interspecies wars, glass-raining exoplanets, every bit fascinated him. He’d researched biology extensively just to imagine what extraterrestrial life could look like.

With a few clicks, the printer next to him clicked and whirred to life as it scanned the photo. He scrolled down to a comments section on one website, there weren’t many. Some were pleasantly surprised by the alien proof, while others called it fake. He leaned over and set his chin on his hand, going over the words. A particular comment piqued his curiosity. He scrolled back up to the photo, then down to the comment, then back.

“Isn’t this the alley next to Gianni’s pizza in Gormond?” Joel quietly read aloud. He could easily play it off as a weirdly specific, unsuccessful attempt at a joke, save for one small detail—Gormond, Arizona was where he lived. He sat back in his chair, scratching his chin. Gianni’s was a place Joel had been to a number of times. In fact, he considered himself a regular. He particularly loved their Hawaiian. One last whir came from the printer before shutting off with a small beep.

Turning up the brightness on the main monitor, he squinted his eyes and studied the photo closer. The background was almost indiscernible from the blackness, but he could very faintly make out a brick wall behind the creature. His heart quickened with silent excitement as he spotted some graffiti in the corner of the image. He’d been skeptical of the validity until then, but that graffiti had been there for years. It had become somewhat of a historical landmark among locals. Joel pulled up a photo of the restaurant just to be sure, and sure enough, it was the same.

He sighed, pleased with himself, and gently kicked against the desk. The chair eased into a spin towards the wall behind him. It was covered in cork board, with photos strung about in a web more intricate than Henry the Eighth’s marriage history. It looked as cliché as you can get. Red thread, Polaroids and all. He took out one tack strategically, and several photos fell onto the carpeted floor. He bent down to pick them up, tsking quietly. The restringing process took a few minutes, but finally he pinned the newest photo. Standing back, the final piece of the puzzle shone in all its glory. The light from his computers backlit his silhouette onto the wall, reflecting his proud stance back at him. For years, Joel had seen weird things happen in this town, and no one believed him despite the obvious proof. The claw marks, teal scales, teeth made of thick glass. Of course, he never got the creature on film. Until now. He smirked and crossed his arms triumphantly. Now they had to believe him.

Riding his bout of conceit, he flipped his phone out and punched in a number he had long since memorized. Joel laid back into his chair while the obnoxious dial-up sound played in his ear.

“Hey.”

“What’s got you in such a good mood? The Purge isn’t scheduled for another week.” The man on the other end remarked.

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m in a good mood because I finally found a picture of that fuckin’ alien.” Joel said. He heard a sigh through the receiver.

“I don’t believe you.”

“The fuck do you mean, you don’t believe me?!” He snapped. The unimpressed voice repeated his statement.

“I just don’t believe you.” Joel rubbed his temples.

“I have a photo of the thing now! Does your ignorant ass need to see it in person?”

“Yeah, I kinda do. It could be photoshopped, or be a guy in a suit or something.”

“I guess.” He grumbled. Joel loathed when skeptics had a good point, especially when it was Wes. It was so late, Joel nearly forgot people tried to apply “critical thinking” to these kinds of things.

“Besides, you didn’t even take that picture so how do you know it’s real?” He said, then lowered his voice. It sounded like he had his hand cupped around his mouth. “Normally, I’d give you the benefit of the doubt, but I have this really hot girl over and I don’t want to sound like I have a tinfoil hat on.” He said.

Joel rolled his eyes. Obviously, Wes couldn’t see him, but it seemed like the message was received either way.

“Look,” He started, talking at his regular volume. “I bet you two, no, three hundred dollars if you can make me believe you.”

“Deal. Also, isn’t that the fifth woman you’ve had this week?” Joel asked.

“Isn’t this the fifth conspiracy you’ve had this week?”

“Touché.” He said through gritted teeth.

Joel knew he’d come through for him eventually. But until he did, he had someone else in mind. It was the middle of the night though, and the person he wanted to see wouldn’t be available until morning.
He clicked his phone off and slid it in his pocket. The chair rattled as he drug his foot across the carpet, sliding himself back over to the desk and flicking off a light. The only thing left he could see was the glow of the computers. After flicking a couple switches, each monitor powered off, leaving light pollution on the screen for a few moments before draining to its normal, reflective black. He flopped onto the mattress, which lay fitted with a lone bedsheet on the floor, and finally went to sleep around three AM—a reasonable hour by his standards—with Professor Meowingtons curled up by his side.
——
When the sun came over the horizon, he rubbed his crusty eyes and rolled out of bed, still in yesterday’s clothes. Grabbing a hefty bag, Joel shoved all of his evidence into it. Jars, samples, and all. He slid a few photos into a side pocket before slinging the bag over his shoulder with some notable effort.

Keys jangled as he locked the door, whose rusty doorknob let out a whiny protest when he checked it with a little twist.

Even just breaking dawn, the desert sun beat down on the metal roof of the house. Wavy heat distortions were already fuming from it. This early, mountains blocked part of the light, but in a few hours it would be scorching.

Gormond was a relatively small town. Small enough to where most people knew each other, but not so small that there weren’t things to do. There was a mall, several restaurants, bars, and cafés, plus some essentials like a hospital and a few seven-eleven’s. Most of the bars had implemented saloon doors for that old west feel. That gave it some extra charm.

Being a mid-state town though, there weren’t many hotels, as the major tourist cities were close—at least by American standards—and had their own obnoxiously ostentatious resorts to stay at. Phoenix was three hours south, Flagstaff and Sedona were an hour west. Gormond didn’t have any tourist traps either, so the only reason most people stopped by was to take advantage of killer gas prices. Joel particularly loved the isolation if it meant that no one would come near him with a ten foot pole.

Only a few minutes’ walk from his house would land him at his destination: the Gormond police station.

The police station, along with a few other buildings like city hall and the small hospital, were in an area aptly named Central Plaza. They were laid out around a large stone fountain, framing it in a wide semicircle. That fountain hadn’t run in years because of the area’s constant need for water conservancy.

The station was a distinctly square building dead center in the plaza, with a shingled roof laid at a precarious angle. Most of the paint had faded and peeled from decades of sun exposure, but the entrance was still a vibrant blue thanks to a metal awning.

Joel ducked under the large overhang and stopped for a moment to relax in the shade.

Joel had one particular person he wanted to see, and one person he absolutely did not. He hoped, and almost prayed for him not to be there. He huffed and mumbled something to himself, something to keep the unwanted man away, but he could only hope luck was on his side.

A rinky dink little bell jingled as Joel pushed the door open. Stark ceiling lights lit the lobby, and every wall painted a boring white. The area was completely void of life save for a few fake plants, and a tall, stocky woman manning the front desk. Just who he wanted to see. She appeared to be filing away paperwork, and didn’t look up when he entered. As he approached the desk, she brought her gaze up and suddenly looked exhausted, rubbing her temples like a headache had come on.

“Hello Joel.” She grumbled. Her tired expression deepened as he plopped the duffel bag on her desk.

“I have irrefutable proof now, Martha.” Joel said, tugging the zipper open.

“I’m sure you do.” Already fed up, she could only watch helplessly as he spread his collection of photos out in front of her. She tried to ignore him and go back to filing papers. When she looked back, she made an exasperated hum, combing her hands through her hair. A wall of photos, bags, and formaldehyde jars nearly blocked her view entirely. Joel picked out the new photo and thrust it around to her.

“See this shit? That’s the alien. This whole fuckin’ time you didn’t take me seriously, but I’d like to see what your excuse is this time.” He said. Martha stood up and rubbed her eyes with one hand, the other balanced on her hip.

“I don’t care how much ‘proof’ you have,” She snapped, swatting the picture away, “until a group of little green men walk in here, there are no aliens!”

Joel’s expression grew almost comically irritated.

“Every time you come in here, you have more ‘proof’ to show me, and it’s always just blurry pictures and weird containers of toenails you found in the woods!” Martha spat. She gestured towards her desk and the rooms behind her.

“We have real cases here that we’re working on, Joel. With real, proven, tangible dangers! None of us have time for your crazy conspiracy!”

He gestured towards himself in mock offense. “Conspiracy? Please, I have some dignity.”

“Besides, do you really think I’ll believe a photo that’s so clearly photoshopped?” Martha asked, crossing her arms, badge catching the light.

With a contemptuous sigh, Joel began to put his things back in the bag. Martha grabbed one jar and shoved it into the bottom of the bag. Joel flinched as it audibly clinked against something.

“Jesus Christ, watch the specimen.” He scolded, checking it for cracks.

“Just take your junk and go, it’s way too early for this.” She said, massaging the bridge of her nose.

Right when she finished, as if to punctuate her sentence, the sheriff emerged from farther inside. Joel felt eyes bore into him. Martha has always been stubborn about his theories, but Sheriff Keszler seemed to think his existence was a crime in and of itself. The man crossed his arms and continued to glare at him. Joel returned the unwelcome gaze, looking daggers at him from under his brim.

“What “evidence” have you brought this time, Mr. Zimmerman?” The sheriff asked in a low and condescending tone, crossing his burly arms. This hardass was the person he didn’t want to run into.

“Do you think just ‘cause you call me by my last name, you want me to think that you respect me or some shit?” Joel questioned. He knew how dumb the question sounded as soon as it left his mouth.

“Do you think I respect you?” His voice was calm and level. Annoyingly so.

“One day you’ll come running to me after the fuckin’ thing comes running through town. Then you’ll see how real it was.” Joel said, pointing an accusatory finger between the two of them. He felt cool saying that.

As much as he wanted to rub in the sheer dumbassery of their disbelief, the sheriff’s presence was, more often than not, his queue to leave. So Joel left, hearing the bell chime as he pushed the door.

The bit of pride he’d gained from that interaction faded quickly as the cheesiness of his comebacks set in. He walked out and stopped at the last step, set his bag next to him, and perched on it with decidedly bad posture. He drew out a frustrated sigh. Why wouldn’t these idiots just listen to him? They never gave him the time of day, even the first few times he brought in evidence.

Joel glanced up, then fully snapped his gaze forward. A little kid and their mom stood several yards away, just staring at him. Great, as if the day couldn’t get worse, now he had to deal with children. He could faintly hear them say something.

“Mama, why does he look so sad?” The kid asked, tugging on the mother’s sleeve.

I’m not sad. Fuck you. He thought before flashing them a large, menacing grin. She burst into tears and shoved her face into the mom’s dress. Joel snickered to himself, to the disdain of the mother. They began to walk away when the child looked over their shoulder at him. Joel blew a raspberry and flipped both of them off. Her mom covered her child’s eyes and briskly walked away, glowering at him. The ends of Joel’s lips quirked up in a small, but genuine, smile. Children were a blight on the face of the earth, but they were fun to scare. The woman marched herself and her kid away from him, and he watched.

However, this joy was short-lived.

“You’re still here?” Martha asked, with an irritated intonation. The door slammed hard behind her, and she stomped down the stairs until she stood in front of him with her arms akimbo. At first, Joel didn’t say anything. She blocked the glare of the sun perfectly with her head.

“Yup.” Joel said simply.

“Well, Mr. Zimmerman,” She began, echoing the sheriff. “We can’t have a disheveled man blocking the entrance, so you have to scoot.”

Joel pretended to examine himself.

“I know I’m not the pinnacle of human beauty, but disheveled is a little harsh.” He remarked. Martha leaned her head to the side, letting the sun shine right into his eyes.

“Ok, fine, I’ll leave. Fuck!” He said, snatching up his bag. Martha eyed him for a few seconds before going back inside, apparently deeming him far enough from the building. Joel stopped and stared at the station. He became almost pouty.

“Bitch.” He cursed under his breath.

As Joel made his way back to his house, he received looks not unlike the disdain that the mother had given him. Even excluding the local police force, he wasn’t well liked, which certainly didn’t help his cause. That was fine, though. It wasn’t like he cared for the other denizens of Gormond anyway.

After getting back to his house in no particular hurry, he immediately flicked on the air conditioner. Whoever had originally built this house clearly wasn’t thinking. Who in their right mind gives a house a metal roof in the middle of the desert? Honestly, Joel was lucky that all his computers and assorted technical junk hadn’t melted yet.

He set down his bag on a little desk right next to his floor mattress, and exhaled, sliding into his rolling chair. The duffel bag sloshed as he put it down, and Joel’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He tried to unzip it as fast as he could, but his hand kept slipping off. Once it was open, he plunged his hand into the mess of jars and samples, and in less than a second, he touched something wet.

“Shit. Shit Shit Shit Shit.”

He whipped his head around, looking for something to drain the liquid into. His eyes landed on a plastic bucket up on a shelf.

“Where did I even–? Doesn’t matter. Come on.” He muttered to himself before warily climbing on top of his swivel chair. It shuddered beneath him, despite his attempt to steady himself as he stood up. His hand barely grazed the bucket as he reached up to grab it. With just that touch, it was already teetering on the edge. The chair shook under him, and he lurched towards the shelf, grasping at the edge until he managed to grab it, just barely holding on. Needless to say, Joel found himself in a rather precarious position. He could feel the almost ninety degree angle his body stuck out at. Sweat began to form profusely above his brow.

He took in a sharp breath and snagged the bucket, which toppled over the side and took him with it. He crashed onto the matted carpet, arm pinned under his ribs. He managed to push himself up, but it wasn’t an easy feat. A large bruise went down the length of his forearm and up his elbow. It hurt, obviously, but he had a chemical spill that took precedence.

Placing the bucket next to his desk, he started unloading everything from the bag and was instantly hit with the fetor of formaldehyde. Joel scrunched up his nose, but reluctantly kept digging. The more things he pulled out, the wetter they were. Photos had soaked partway through, and several jars were dripping when he pulled them out. Finally, he grabbed the culprit. The jar that Martha had so carelessly thrown in had cracked and burst. It was supposed to house what Joel suspected to be the alien’s left foot, preserved in the substance. Now it just sagged against the hole in the container.

“Of course.” Joel muttered, carefully placing it down into the bucket.

He flipped the bag over and let the preservative run out. Life just hated him today, didn’t it? Joel sat on his bed while the bag drained. His bruise was already turning a purplish-red, and touching it, surprise surprise, hurt.

Inhaling sharply, he got up and took out a white pencil and blueprint paper. Joel cracked his knuckles, regretted it, and winced as he sat at the desk.

Deciding that the day hadn’t had enough alien related excitement, Joel began to pull out some drawers and sift through them. He took out a few drawings and scanned images and spread them out on one side of the desk. He went through his notes and took out one specific one. He sharpened the pencil, then looked at it, then at his notes, then at the paper.

Joel let the pencil fall out of his hand and clatter onto the desk. He itched with motivation, but he couldn’t get his hands to respond to his mind’s wishes. It was like his controllers disconnected.

Leaning back against his chair, Joel groaned and held one of the scanned images above his face. He looked intently at the diagram, a detailed image of a Winchester model 70 featherweight—a standard sniper rifle meant for hunting large game.

Joel had been researching different types of hunting rifles to one day mod one to hunt down this alien. All this information was primed and ready, but it had just sat collecting dust. Joel leaned against his uninjured arm and sighed. He stared at the blank blueprint for minutes, just thinking, but he just couldn’t get himself to begin. Sauntering over to his computers, he booted up Steam. Maybe inspiration would strike later.

—

Straightedges, erasers, and a multitude of other supplies lay strewn across his desk around him. A bright lamp illuminated his work, the only light in the room. Joel’s hand arced over the blueprint. White scratches of pigment marked the paper as he drew out his masterpiece. Soon enough, a fully designed gun lay in front of him. Joel took a good, long stretch and rubbed his aching neck.

2:16 AM.

After a longer nap than he’d intended, inspiration struck. God, it struck like a damn semi truck. It felt like only twenty minutes, but Joel had worked nonstop for a few hours.

Now all it needed was a badass name.

“Alien Fucker.” Joel thought aloud. Too horny, but something along those lines could be awesome. “Alien Destroyer. Extraterrestrial Annihilator.” He ideated, then his eyes popped open as he bent over to scribble something. He scrawled it in the corner with the neatest handwriting he could muster. Joel was quite pleased with himself.

‘E.T.’s Kryptonite’

Chapter Text

Early morning sunlight filtered through Joel’s window. This, however, was not what he woke up to. His blaring phone alarm jolted him awake moments before. He opened his eyes, resisting with crusty sleep, and felt around on the floor next to his bed. After some unsuccessful attempts, the stinging sound stopped grating his ears. Joel grabbed his phone and pulled up Twitter. Nothing interesting.

He rolled out of bed reluctantly, and threw on his Aperture Science shirt. When he pulled it over his face, Joel caught a glimpse of his late night project again. His brain was foggy, but not enough to not appreciate his handiwork from last night. He leaned against the desk and looked it over. For a random burst of energy in the middle of the night, it was pretty damn good.

A little pang of pain shot through his arm, and Joel cursed under his breath. That bruise was gonna be nasty. As he rubbed his arm, Joel’s eyes scanned his notes. He’d known for ages that he couldn’t just buy a gun. Nothing was made for this kind of ‘game’, so he would just end up replacing most parts of whatever he bought. Unfortunately, this meant Joel would have to get a shit ton of parts to make one from scratch. He looked over his list of materials. Everything he saw online basically said the same thing—make most of your gun out of plastic. Aside from some inner firing mechanisms, that is. Those had to be metal of some kind.

Bullshit. Joel had thought reading that. He knew that with hunting rifles, the bigger the game, the sturdier the gun had to be. It had to be powerful enough to fire the properly sized slugs, and for the very important aspect of not fucking exploding when you shot it.

Joel sat back on his bed, pondering his new dilemma. He’d need scrap metal, and a lot of it.

He pulled out his phone and opened his texts. Pulling up Wes’s contact—aptly named ‘playboy magazine’, which got a snort out of Joel every time—he started to type. He had barely sent a message when his phone rang.

“You’re building a gun now??” Wes questioned, voice doused in bewilderment. So Joel explained his plan in thorough detail.

“Well, to kill this alien I’m gonna macgyver a hunting rifle. The slugs need to pierce some thickass scales, so I’m gonna make ones that can go through a fuckin’ tank shell just to be sure. Nothing that isn’t propelled by a shit ton of force is gonna hurt this thing. I’ll make the whole thing out of metal so blah blah blah…” Joel went on explaining for the next several minutes, throwing in technical jargon every now and then, fully aware Wes didn’t understand a word of it. Bold to assume he understood any of it, as far as Joel was concerned.

“Oh my god. You’re insane.” He said after he finally got space to speak.

“Maybe, but it’ll be cool.” Joel said nonchalantly, tapping his fingers o n the desk.

Joel heard a drawn out sigh from the other end. “Yeah alright, I’ll go.” Wes conceded.

Joel ate a breakfast of dry cereal and bad Twitter posts, then headed out. Wes was already outside of his house, leaning against the wall just under the awning.

“Hey~” He greeted.

“That was fast.” Joel said with mild suspicion.

“I was practically out the door when you texted me. Just needed my shoes.” He replied, shrugging. A moment later, he asked: “Where are we going to find big pieces of metal?”

“A junkyard.” Joel stated the obvious answer. Wes scowled at him.

“Pff. What junkyard? We don’t have one of those.” He said like his statement was obvious.

However, despite Wes’s adamance, a few minutes of walking took them to exactly what Joel described. A medium sized scrapyard stood just outside of Gormond, almost bordering the tree line of the forest next door. There was no kind of fence or wall separating it from the wilderness, but it was at a weird spot just far enough away from town to be odd. It was just kinda…there.

“Behold.” Joel said, opening his arms up dramatically. Wes stood there and stared at it, almost in disbelief. Joel gave him a look.

“Are you fucking beholding?” He asked, leaning into his view.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m beholden.” Wes waved a hand and crossed his arms, fighting a losing battle not to smile. The two began to walk over to the pile of junk.

Wes picked up a small piece of metal laying at the bottom, and turned it over in his hands. These little pieces seemed rare, though. Most of the junk consisted of rusted vintage cars.

“So what kind do you need?” Wes asked, absentmindedly fiddling with the piece.

“Steel and aluminum.” Joel replied. He quickly leafed through some thin sheets, put them down just as fast, then craned his neck to look at the items higher up. A gentle lean on a protruding metal beam told Joel how stable it was. He found something that didn’t move under his lackluster weight, and hauled himself up.

“Ok cool. How do I know it’s that and not some other thing?” Wes called. Joel had already climbed up a car when he turned to look at him. He rolled his eyes, but briefly considered his words before answering.

“Most of this is probably steel, and the aluminum is that, but just lighter and shinier.” He called back. Honestly, this should’ve been obvious to him.

“Ohhh, ok, that’s soooo helpful. Dude, that doesn’t narrow it down at all!” Wes shouted. He loved Joel, but god he wished he would actually explain stuff instead of this condescending whatever it was.

Joel clambered up onto the pile, scrambling up the hoods of several busted up cars. On top of an old sedan, a white Ram van loomed over him, blocking any path up that he could see. He frowned. Carefully grabbing the edge of its muffler, he craned his neck around to see. A few thick bars stuck out in a convenient, stair-like ascending pattern up and around the van, but he would have to pull himself up on the one closest to him. It was times like these that Joel wished he had more strength than his twiggy body would allow.

He managed to grab the nearest bar, but it was a bit of a reach. Joel was able to pull himself up, but not before his foot slipped and threatened to send him tumbling down. Something thick and sticky squished under Joel’s hand when he placed it on the top of the car. Instinctually, he pulled it off as a horrible shudder went through his body at the sensation. A weird, greenish-blue ooze stuck to his palm, slowly running down his wrist like molasses. Joel’s face contorted into a disgusted grimace. He tried to wipe it off onto the car, it stretched when he took his hand away, then snapped back to his palm. Gross. He tried wiping it on a few other things, to no avail. So with a sigh of acquiescence, Joel kept climbing.

Wes was still at the base of the pile sifting through the metal. When Joel climbed on top of the van, Wes raised a decent sized chunk above his head.

“Is this aluminum?”

Joel squinted. “No. It is steel though. Good job.” Joel said, giving him a half assed thumbs-up with the ooze dripping from his hand. It was a little hard to tell exactly what the metal was from that distance, but he was confident enough in his answer that it didn’t really matter.

Wes tossed it on the ground and started to make his little own pile. He had his hands at the ready to dig some more, then stood back as he watched Joel start to ascend again.

“What are you gonna do up there?” He shouted, cupping a hand in front of his mouth to direct the words.

For a moment, Joel struggled to get over a long, flat piece of wood that stuck out at a weird angle. Once navigated, he leaned his back against a metal door and looked over the mountain of scrap that he’d precariously flattened himself to. Joel pointed to the peak of the pile.

“I’m going to that car.” He called. An old, rusty VW Beetle sat at the top. Sunlight streamed through its windows, marking it like a beacon. All the paint had chipped off, and the majority of its hood and grille were mangled. The car’s trunk cover was missing as well as both mirrors and the windshield. Despite all of this, the doors were in mint condition minus the factory paint. “I bet my cat’s life that I can use one of those doors.”

Joel finished his ascent and pulled himself up with the car’s hood. Nope, the ooze still wasn’t coming off. The door facing him still had a handle on it, and upon testing it, was still functional. He opened the door and yanked on the edge. Nothing happened. Joel wasn’t sure why he thought that would work, he supposed it looked brittle enough. Another curse of Joel’s spaghetti physique to add to the list. The hinges on the door looked completely rusted on the outside, he didn’t think it would take much force to snap off. He yanked again, and heard something crack. One of the hinges snapped.

He pulled again and the car door came sailing off with his body, nearly falling down the mountain of metal with it on top of him. He managed to redirect the door in time to not go with it, but not without some resistance—one of the rusty edges snagged his arm and cut it on the way down. Joel winced, cursed, and then grumbled when he realized this was the same arm he’d hurt last night. The hinge had cut him clean open, and a steady flow of blood began to seep down his arm.

Wes must’ve seen the ordeal because he called up to him again after the door skidded to a halt on the dirt.

“You good up there?”

“No. The fuckin’ thing sliced me open.” Joel replied, examining his arm.

“Oh shit, do you need help getting down?”

“I got cut, not amputated. Relax.”

Joel took a little while to climb down. He couldn’t put much pressure on his sliced arm, and that was the hand covered in goo, too. There were a few times where he almost lost his balance, but eventually made it down with relative safety.

Wes’s eyes widened as he approached.

“Jesus! You said you got cut!” He said, glaring at him half frustrated and half concerned.

“My name is Joel.” He remarked, but suddenly looked a little unstable on his feet.

“Oh my god. Joel, you need to go to the hospital, man. That’s a serious wound.” Wes said, taking his uninjured arm.

“Yeah whatever, I can go anytime. I gotta get the door to my house.” He pointed back over his shoulder as his friend drug him away.

“I’ll drop it off later.” Wes replied. Joel scowled.

“What are you gonna do? Just leave it on my fuckin’ doorstep? Someone’s going to steal it!”

Wes glanced back at him as Joel wrenched his hand free.

“This town has what? Less than a thousand people? Who do you think is going to take a fucking car door off your porch?” He asked. Joel opened his mouth to protest, but didn’t, instead pressing it shut into a flat line with an annoyed exhale.

“Fine. I better go get my boo boos kissed so I don’t get tetanus.”

——

The hospital in Gormond was, like everything else there, small. It was nothing more than an urgent care, really. It was fine for what Joel needed though.

A typical long urgent care wait later, he finally got into an examination room. A doctor came in a minute later. Joel hated hospitals. They reeked of customer service voice and patronizing smiles. He felt like every doctor he’d ever seen had treated him like a kid who’d come back from playing covered in dirt and scratches. Joel certainly felt like a child, sitting on the hospital bed parchment paper, pressing a clump of tissues to his arm.

When the doctor came in, he saw the subtle widening of her eyes at the weird goop on his hand.

“Got cut on some metal, I don’t know what the sludge is.” Joel explained before she could ask. He did not want her to ask.

“Alright,” she said with a bit of hesitation. “Well, let’s see what we can do about your cut. Take that off for me, please.”

Joel raised the blood soaked tissues off, and she took his arm briefly to look closer.

“Was the metal rusted, do you remember?” Joel nodded.

“Ok, I’ll get this cleaned up, and then you’ll have to get some stitches. Because the metal broke the skin you should get a tetanus booster as well.” Great. Joel offered the most pathetic half smile with lidded eyes. She nodded with a similar expression.

“I know. Not fun.” Joel winced the tiniest amount at her tone. “Do you have a preference? Would you rather have the shot or stitches first?” She asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a minute to close it up.” She said with a very ‘I’m required to do this’ smile.

The hydrogen peroxide stung, and he, inconspicuously he hoped, had to glance away while the doctor sewed his wound shut. After that, Joel got his shot.

The doctor pulled on the latex gloves and gingerly touched the glob of goop. It stuck to her hands just as much, if not more than it was on him. Joel mentally cringed at the shlep sound it made as it peeled off of her. She appeared to consider what to do next, gauging the blob’s consistency with her knuckle. With an extra needle, the doctor used the blunt end to scrape it off his hand. She pulled over the biohazard trash bin from the corner of the room and dropped it in.

“That’s your,” she waved her hand as her mouth struggled to pick a word, “Foreign object, taken care of.”

Joel fingered the edge of his stitches. He was already fighting the urge to pick at them.

One stinging syringe and gauze wrapping later, Joel was set to wait outside in the lobby. Apparently, they want you to stay inside for a little while to make sure you don’t erupt in hives after the vaccine. Joel had a different thing on his mind. Once the doctor left him alone, he walked over to the biohazard bag and peered in. It was still there, flattened into a jiggly puddle in the bottom. Why he expected it to be gone, he wasn’t quite sure. Weird goop could be versatile, maybe it could have melted through the bag or something.

Joel was way too interested in the stuff to just leave it. Touching it was revolting, but it was distinctly alien. He leaned against the rim of the basket and looked around for anything he could dig it out with. The bag definitely wouldn’t work, it would be way too suspicious, he needed something smaller.

His gaze traveled to the tissueesque box of latex gloves on the counter. Perfect. They slid on kind of loose around his thin hands, but that worked in his favor for what he had in mind. Joel leaned over and reached as far as his arm would go until he grazed the blob with his fingers. With the help of its stickiness, Joel pulled it out and squeezed it into a smaller form in his palm. With his other hand, he slipped his glove off and over the substance, then once that was off, repeated it with the second. Now he had a handy little pouch.

He stuck the pouch under his hat with a little finagling. Once they sat decently on top of each other, Joel walked out the door with his treasure.

The waiting area was unusually full, six of the eight seats had already been claimed. One seat was next to some little kid, so that was out of the question. The other was next to some goth hipster guy. Joel didn’t like either option, but any adult is better than a child.

He slid into the chair next to him. The guy looked kind of ridiculous, though interesting compared to the usual desert folk, so Joel couldn’t help but sneak a few glances.

Black gauges hung in his ears, and his hair was put up in the dumbest style—the man bun. He was clad in all black, which was quite daring in ninety degree weather, but Joel wasn’t much better on that front, only owning the odd pair of jeans. Even his eyes were black. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t black was his skin, which was a pasty white that almost glared in the fluorescent light.

The man caught him and looked at him with a surprisingly friendly expression. Even so, Joel felt like he had to give an excuse for staring.

“Uh. I like your shirt.” He said, pointing a finger. It was for the 1979 film Alien, and upon seeing that, Joel’s excuse became a truth.

In response, the man put an open hand to his chin and then moved it away. He did this with a small smile. Joel blinked. It took him a second, but he realized that he was saying thank you in sign language. Shit. He could understand it, but was awful at doing it himself.

“…I, uh, can’t do that stuff back.” Joel said, trying to wave his hands in some kind of gesture that could cull the conversation.

“It’s ok, I can hear you just fine.” The other man signed. This time Joel noticed the bandages on his arm.

“So you’re not deaf, but you also can’t just talk to me?” He asked somewhat rudely.

“No, I don’t have vocal cords.” He replied. He didn’t seem offended by the question. Actually, his face contorted like he was laughing, but only little huffs of air came out.

“Huh. That can happen?” Joel asked. He leaned on the arm of his chair, interest piqued.

“Yeah, it’s a birth defect. It’s pretty rare, but I got it anyway.” With him still smiling, it came across a mild inconvenience rather than a disability.

“That’s gotta be fuckin’ annoying.”

“Oh it is, but if someone does know sign language, it means they took time to learn how to communicate with a whole other category of people. I think that’s really sweet.”

Despite the piercings and dark clothes, this was easily the friendliest person Joel had ever met. He was kind of impressed.

“I just had to learn it for my job.” Joel dismissed.

“Are you an interpreter?”

“No, I used to be part of the police force.” He said with comical disgust and a scowl. “I had to learn how to tell people who’s fuckin’ uncle or whoever had been murdered that we were ‘going to find the culprit’, and that ‘everything will be ok’ in like twenty different languages.” He explained. The other guy’s eyes widened.

“Haven’t heard that one before.” He signed, doing that silent giggle thing again. “You’re the first person I’ve talked to who wasn’t a sign language interpreter. Why did you learn the rest of it?”

“I just thought it was cool and learned it in a year.” Joel said, shrugging. He tried not to make it sound like the hyperfixation it really was. The man nodded with wonder in his eyes.

“So, you like aliens?” Joel asked after a bit of silence. He assumed with the Alien shirt that he did, but to what degree?

“I love aliens! They’re the coolest thing!”

“Do you believe in them?”

“Totally man, I used to look for them when I was younger.”

“Oh shit, me too.” Joel’s smile became a little bigger. “There’s actually one in town, and I’m trying to hunt it.”

“Why? Is it violent?” He asked with a bit of a concerned face.

“Very violent. It killed someone behind Gianni’s pizza the other day.” Joel explained.

“Oh my gosh!”

“I saw the photo online and instantly recognized the graffiti in the alley.”

The hipster guy perked up, and leaned towards him.

“The one where it’s looking at the camera and like, in the middle of eating something?” He asked.

Joel was surprised, normally no one even listened to his alien ramblings, but this guy even knew the picture. He couldn’t believe his luck.

“…Yeah that’s…exactly it. Are you on the same fucking cryptid forum?”

“BigfootsAnonymous?”

“Holy shit, that’s the one.” Joel said. The other man lit up.

“I’ve never met another person who’s on that!”

“Me neither. How have we not met before?”

“Well, I’m not really like, in the comments, I just like to look at the sightings and let other people speculate.” He signed. Joel nodded, leaning on his arm again.

“You live here?” Joel asked. The man nodded.

“Did you have to get a tetanus shot too?” He asked after a moment and pointed at Joel’s bandaged arm.

“Unfortunately. Were you in that junkyard earlier?”

He nodded again.

Joel was even more confused now. They were at the same place the same day and they hadn’t seen each other. It wasn’t even that late into the day, so they couldn’t have missed each other by that much.

He was a bit lost in the logistics of it, and didn’t notice when the other guy started signing again. When he realized it, he only caught the last part of his sentence.

“…with your alien?”

“Say that again?”

“Could I help you with your alien?” He asked.

“You want to help me?” Joel repeated, inwardly stunned.

“I do! It can’t be easy trying to do that by yourself, and it sounds like it’s a pretty big threat. The faster it’s killed, the faster everyone is safe, right?”

“Sure, whatever. I mean, who am I to turn that down?” Saving Gormond from the creature wasn’t really how he thought about it, he mostly just wanted to rub its existence in everyone’s face. This guy didn’t seem like the type to steal credit for something though. And he was right, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little help from someone else who was actually interested, and more importantly committed, unlike Wes.

“Name’s Joel by the way.”

The man began to sign individual letters: a closed fist, a circle, a closed fist with the thumb sticking between his middle and ring fingers, he repeated that sign again, then finished with what was essentially a surfer dude hand sign.

“S-O-N-N-Y. It’s nice to meet you.” He replied with a gentle smile.

“Cool to meet you too, I guess.” Joel returned the smile.

When his fifteen minutes were up, he nodded Sonny goodbye and left. Wes was nowhere to be seen. One second your friend’s worried about you, the next he’s dropped off the face of the earth. Joel didn’t like either stage, but couldn’t he make up his damn mind?

He didn't bother texting him. Between the junkyard excursion, dealing with medical professionals, and a singular lively conversation, Joel was ready to go home at the ripe time of two-thirty.

Meowingtons greeted him at the door, winding through his legs and mewling at him.

“Hey bud.” Joel said as he bent over to scratch him behind the ears. He purred loudly.

Joel plopped down at his desk and took off his hat, letting the latex pouch fall into his hand. To his relief, nothing burst, nothing leaked, it stayed secure on his head.

He ruminated about what he could put the goop in. There was no way it would continue to be okay in his haphazard bag. The duffel bag grabbed his attention. It had to be done draining by now, it had had the whole night and half the day. Joel probably needed to clean it, like with actual soap, but fuck if he was gonna do that right now. The bucket was what he had his eye on, anyway. Joel tossed the bag aside into a shelf so the cat couldn’t get to it. Formaldehyde sat stagnant at the bottom, and Joel gave it a gentle swish. The stuff sloshed a little, and he clicked his tongue as his eyes searched for a spare jar. A drawer by his computer setup had a few in it. None too big, he'd have to fill more than one, but whatever. He was itching to get a better look at that goop. The fluid stunk as he poured it out, Joel actively held his breath for the process.

With an old cloth and a bottle of harsh cleaner he’s had since god knows when, he wiped down the inside of the bucket. He didn’t want to clean this either, but the thought of leftover preservative mixing into a crazy concoction with the ooze pushed him to get it over with. He touched it once to make sure it was dry.

Joel grabbed his makeshift pouch and tried to push the blob out before remembering how sticky the stuff was, so that wouldn’t work. Thankfully, Joel had another, more fun idea.

Meowingtons watched him as he backed up a few steps. He flipped the bag over, holding it by the end of the outer glove, and tested it to see if it’d fall out. Nope, it stuck with what would be frustrating consistency, but now he could test his idea. In one fluid motion, Joel wound up, aimed, then slingshotted the goop into the bucket like a game of horseshoes. It made a resounding crack when it hit the side and skidded for a second before settling.

Joel let his eyes fall shut as a satisfied chuckle bubbled out of his mouth like a lazy fountain. Such a good sound. The thing jiggled around, and little bubble-like orbs popped up just under its surface. He watched it for a bit, and absentmindedly picked at his bandages. They kept popping up for maybe a minute or so, then abruptly stopped. Joel picked up the bucket and set it on his desk.

Now that he had it somewhat contained for him to study, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it, at least for right now. All he could really do is let it culture and see what happens. He just needed to cover it with something so Meowingtons couldn’t fall in if he got too curious. An old heavy book Joel hadn’t touched in ages quickly became its lid. All he needed now was to wait and hope it did something, which wasn’t the most solid plan, but it was all he got. His cat hopped up onto his gaming chair and sat down. Meowingtons’ little face looked at him expectantly as his nose twitched.

“There’s a novel idea.” He said. Joel relocated the cat to his lap and booted up his pcs to whatever game was loaded.

Chapter Text

“So what are we looking for?” Sonny asked as he ducked under a low hanging branch.

“Eh, anything that looks suspicious.” Joel said, and ran over a few rocks with his metal detector. He wanted Sonny to take some equipment too, but he’d insisted that he was plenty observant with just his eyes. “Weird objects, spaceships, stuff that looks alien-y.”

Sonny nodded, but that didn’t clarify much.

The two still had bandages from the previous day, but Joel, even with his forearm sliced open, was just as adamant on looking for the alien today as any other. He would have gone out yesterday, but his new goop fascination distracted him. Besides, he didn’t want to try his chances with Sonny yet, he didn’t want to squander this personified opportunity luck had given him.

Joel had gone into the deceptively sparse forest outside of Gormond before, but once he’d gotten past the more mild area, he stopped just before the thick of it. That was his first trip in, and he had visited a few times since then, though he by no means had explored all of it.

Sonny had his gaze up in the trees, head craned up to look out for anything hiding in the leaves above them, while Joel had his sights set on the ground with his various detectors. Morning light filtered through the canopy and covered everything in bright dapples. The leaves offered some protection from the heat, as well as being quite calming.

Joel was so used to wandering around by himself, he nearly forgot Sonny was there—probably because he didn’t talk. With his presence suddenly made known as he moved up to his side, Joel felt compelled to break the silence.

“There’s usually a different person who comes with me.” Joel said in an attempt at conversation.

“Is that the guy who walked in with you yesterday?” Oh, that’s right, he would have seen Wes.

“Yeah. Wes.” He said absentmindedly as his metal detector beeped at a random stone, only to reveal a dirty coin.

“He seems nice.” Sonny signed, eyes still up in the branches.

“Yeah, he seems nice. I swear, that guy only helps me when it’s convenient for him. Half, no not even, three-fucking-fourths of the time he’s on a date with some chick he met online. Yesterday was part of that last fourth.” Joel lamented.

“Isn’t that how friendships work? You do something when it’s convenient for everyone?” He asked.

“Yeah. Exactly. We should be able to hang out more than once a month. Wes seems like he would do Bros Before Hoes, but he always picks the chick over me! It’s fuckin’ ridiculous!”

“Maybe there are other bros he’s prioritizing.” Sonny suggested. It sounded like a fan to his frustrations, but Joel didn't think he meant it that way.

“He says he’s bisexual or whatever, but he’s never talked about a dude date once.”

Sonny looked at him for a second, then silently laughed, putting a hand over his mouth. It looked like a hard laugh too judging by the way his smile stretched up by his eyes. Joel saw his whimsical expression and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit too.

“It wasn’t that funny.” Joel said flatly, despite a little smirk. He moved on without waiting for an answer.

The trees around them soon began to grow denser, and Joel was having trouble maneuvering his metal detector between them. At certain places, he had trouble squeezing through himself. He was not a big guy by any means, his arms were about as thick as the cardboard tube in a toilet paper roll. Nearly everyone was larger than him in one way or another, and Sonny was no exception. Joel realized he couldn’t hear his footsteps behind him anymore, and stopped to wait. Also because his detector had beeped over a pile of dirt, but he could let Sonny catch up too.

Once Sonny began to draw nearer, he was having much more trouble than Joel getting through the trees. He wasn’t dramatically wider than Joel, but even so, he was having to shuffle sideways through the gaps like a crab. After about a minute of trying this, he appeared to be stuck. His eyes flitted around, looking for some way to get out. He managed to squeeze through, but not without taking a bit of a stumble for several feet. Joel simply stood back and watched this spectacle, offering only a chuckle as they continued on.

Their path opened up for a while, and though the scenery was nice, they were having no luck finding anything remotely extraterrestrial. Sonny went a bit ahead of Joel. He didn’t get far before the density returned, and when Joel caught up, he was just standing in front of the thicket. Sonny looked back at him.

“What’s the holdup?” Joel approached him with his metal detector lain over his shoulder.

“I don’t want to get lost.” Sonny signed, then stared off into space for a moment before beginning again. “You’ve been here before, right? Which way should we go?”

Joel thought for a second, then took out a folded up piece of paper from his pocket. Unfolding it, he examined the crudely drawn map. He scrunched up his nose and mumbled something under his breath, then huffed when he realized it was upside down, then oriented the paper properly.

“Forward is nothing. Right is nothing. Front-right is also nothing.” He said with a sigh. “So left, I guess.”

Sonny gave him a small nod and they headed left. This direction was much less dense than the other ones Joel had listed off. It seemed like an odd order, not doing the easy path first, if only to move his equipment around more easily.

The noon sunlight shone through the trees now. It sent a magnifying glass-like effect through a clear cylindrical chamber Joel wore on his back. It looked like one of those ghost vacuum things from Ghostbusters. Sonny watched the light pass through it, casting fuzzy speckles across the ground between them. Joel glanced over and saw him staring.

“Come on Sonny, use your words.” Joel teased. Sonny smiled and rolled his eyes.

“What’s that transparent backpack for?” He asked. Joel lit up at the question. It was hardly a full face contortion, but a glimmer appeared in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He set down his metal detector, then briefly struggled to get the contraption off his back. Joel held it in a way to show off the mechanical parts inside.

“It’s basically a holding tank for any stuff I find. I put vents in it so I can change the humidity and stuff in case I find a living thing. Some things need a hyper specific environment. They might fuckin’ croak because there’s not enough water in the air or sommut.” Joel explained, pointing out all the parts for Sonny, who was inspecting it with close intrigue.

“What do you usually put in it?”

“Jesus Christ, what’s with you and the questions? I swear it’s every fuckin’ minute.” Joel said, shaking his head. He slid the straps over his shoulders again. “Usually just cool looking rocks.” He admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets.

A silence passed between them. Not uncomfortable, they were simply focused. The trees above occasionally rustled, although the only sound for a while was the beep of the metal detector, which was becoming increasingly obnoxious. Joel got tired of it and eventually shut it off. His eyes were perfectly capable of scanning the ground anyway. Maybe this very scenario was why Sonny denied the equipment. Much more peaceful without it.

Sonny’s gaze was off in the distance, paying no mind to him. Suddenly, a touch on his shoulder brought Joel’s gaze up to meet his. He couldn’t tell what Sonny was staring at, he only saw trees as far as the eye could see. He squinted to try and get a better look. Still just trees.

“What are you looking at?” He finally asked.

“There’s like, a structure of some kind.” Sonny signed. He moved back and guided Joel to where he was standing.

“All I see is more fuckin’ trees. Unless you’re talking about that thing.” Joel said, somewhat dismissive. A little speck of white showed through the leaves, but it could be any number of things. It didn’t look particularly interesting.

“Doesn’t it look like metal or something, though?” He pressed, then vaguely gestured at it.

“It’s probably just one of those white mushrooms.” Joel said. He turned his head to try and gauge more of it, when something caught his eye. “Holy shit, you’re right. There’s a manhole cover lookin’ thing on the ground over there.”

He started moving towards it with an air of caution, carefully crouching around bushes, with Sonny following shortly after.

The forest opened up into an unnatural looking clearing, it looked like something had violently trampled a few yards of trees, leaving huge logs toppled across each other, snapped off of jagged stumps. A massive disc shaped object was stuck into the ground with such force that it appeared buried. The land was cracked around it, planes of packed dirt and grass jutted out from all directions. The object was the size of a small house, and easily towered over both men by at least twenty feet. Arguably the most puzzling thing was that the impact didn’t seem recent. Patches of lichen had grown over its surface, and vines crawled up the sides.

Countless thoughts flew through Joel’s mind. Is this a real UFO? Where did it come from? Space obviously. What planet? Was it even from a planet? Years of research and sci-fi movies had prepared him for this moment, and he couldn’t even figure out what to say.

“…Fuck.” Was all he managed, taking off his hat to run a hand through his hair.

Logically, he knew not to get too excited. UFOs were exceedingly rare, and when they were seen, they were fleeting. Most likely, they’d stumbled across some rich person’s weird modern house, but Joel couldn’t keep his heart from pounding.

Unlike Joel, Sonny was not frozen in place by his awe. He approached it with a childlike wonder in his eyes and ran his fingers lightly over the exterior. The corners of his mouth turned up and quickly formed into a big smile as he took in the cold metallic surface. Cold despite the sun, somehow.

Joel opted to stand back and observe, scraping his eyes over every area he could. The metal was so pale it almost glowed in the sunlight, but he couldn’t even be sure it was metal. If it really was a spaceship, it could be made of all sorts of things his feeble human brain could never even dream of. A few noticeable cracks and scratches cut into it, but other than that there was no visible damage. There were the plants, the cracks, a faded symbol that could mean any number of things, but the most glaring thing, however, was the circular opening that wide, black etching radiated out from. The ‘manhole cover’ that Joel had seen minutes ago lay in front, with its own contained little environment grown on top.

“Why would it be open?” Joel asked partly to himself and partly to Sonny. He sauntered over to the rim of the opening and tentatively peered in.

Inside, it was just as starkly white, with light illuminating it from an unseeable source. Joel’s brow furrowed. Sonny popped his head in next to him and made a similar expression after a moment of inspection. The walls were lined with what Joel could only describe as slime. Hexagonal holes held their shape, even as the stuff drooped like it was tired from hanging.

“Maybe the door broke off when it crashed.” Sonny speculated. He leaned in a little more and craned his neck around the edge of the doorway.

“Like one of those cartoons where it just fuckin’ ejects after they land.” Joel joked, making an explosive motion with his hands. Sonny took a second to picture it, then silently giggled with crinkled eyes.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s home.” He signed, still with a smile. Sonny carefully placed his foot inside the ship and touched the floor with his shoe. It was solid metal just like the outside, and didn’t appear to reject his human form in any way, so Sonny put more of his weight on it. The outer shell and floor seemed to be the only things that were even close to earth materials.

Joel didn’t return the smile.

“Are you seriously just gonna waltz in there?” He hissed, and smacked Sonny’s leg as he inched it in. “It could be anywhere! For all I know, the thing could be invisible and looking right at us!”

They stared at each other, Sonny flicked his eyes between him and the ship’s innards.

“I guess it would’ve attacked us already if that was the case.” Joel thought aloud, hesitantly retracting himself to the side. He crossed his arms as Sonny took a few steps inside. His jaw ticked in anticipation. There was no way he was going to stay outside and not go into a UFO, so Joel conceded his wariness and followed shortly after.

As soon as he was in, Joel was completely enamored by the ship. It was so foreign. The walls and ceiling were curved and had that weird hexagon slime mold stuff on them. Clusters of button-like objects covered them on some kind of panel, various controls for the ship, he would guess. Strangely, it appeared to be abandoned and occupied at the same time. It was relatively spotless and had lights on inside, but at the same time it seemed too empty to be lived in. Joel’s eyes widened as the room opened up into a large dome. The first section was closer to Joel’s height, but this was what made the structure so tall.

“This is so dope!” Sonny signed after spinning around on his heel to face Joel, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“It really is.” Joel agreed, and he felt his own lips quirk up too. “I’m in a fucking alien spaceship, this the greatest day of my life.” He expressed with deadpan but very genuine excitement.

An intricate design was etched into the floor, black swirls covered it with lights dotting specific areas of the pattern. He glanced up and saw Sonny go into a room off to the side. A dim blue emanated from it and flickered onto the wall outside.

Joel padded over and gently leaned on the wide door frame. Sonny was gazing into a transparent tube twice his size at the center of the back wall. The strange color appeared to come from inside it, reflecting off some kind of liquid suspending IV-like tubes. A few larger cables floated in the center. They all had uneven torn edges, like whatever was in it had ripped itself free to escape.

“What’s in there?” He asked. A somewhat dumb question since Joel’s line of sight cleared over his head and into the huge chamber. Sonny turned to face him, shook his head and shrugged.

Sonny watched Joel intently as he placed a hand on the machine. They both held their breath like they were expecting something horrible to happen, but nothing did. It just felt pleasantly cool.

“This is the most alien sleep chamber lookin’ shit I’ve ever seen.” Joel tapped on the glass. “Wonder what would happen if I took it.” He said with a mischievous grin, not looking for an actual answer. Sonny made a contemplative face, then frowned.

“It would be really cool to see how it works, but I also don’t want it to hunt you down or something because you took it, you know?” He signed. “Something this big is probably important.”

Joel, still with the same grin, placed a hand on Sonny’s shoulder, which made him flinch.

“That’s exactly why we should steal it.” He doubled down .

Sonny looked up at the ceiling where the machine was attached, thoughtful.

“How are we going to get it out?”

“Uh...Ok, ok, whatever, I’ll take something I can actually carry.” Joel whirled his neck around for approximately five seconds before settling on a tiny cube in one of the hexagonal holes. He held it in front of Sonny. “This! It’ll never know that this tiny fuckin’ thing is gone! Happy?”

“Yeah, I’m happy.” Sonny smiled.

———

When the two of them got back, things were even quieter than usual. They descended the small hill that led back into town and were met with complete silence. Gormond was a sleepy town, sure, but there was usually something around, like wind, a tumbleweed, or if you’re unlucky, another person. Like that kid and her mom Joel encountered the other day.

An air of unease settled around them. Joel moved his eyes across the stretch of empty street before them. Sonny more visibly scanned the area, moving his head this way and that, searching for any signs of life—or, hell, even signs of movement. Joel silently enjoyed it, it was an unusual but welcome change.

“Can you help me take some shit back to my house?” Joel asked. Sonny turned to him and nodded. “Cool. I need more parts from the junkyard and I can’t carry ‘em.”

Once they arrived, Joel instructed Sonny on which pieces of metal to send over. He climbed up just like Joel had yesterday, but with notably more speed and agility. Sonny was a far more efficient retriever than he could ever be. A golden retriever at that, with his cotton candy personality.

He slid down a few pieces over the next twenty minutes. A couple small sheets of aluminum, and one specific piece of steel that he wanted off the back of a dilapidated 1971 Ford Thunderbird. Joel frowned as the car part skidded to a stop at his feet. He loved getting the free parts, but his inner car guy would never understand why people just gave up these things and left them to rot in places like this. With some upkeep and replacements, they’d still work just fine. Maybe car restoration would be his next project. He did love to tinker, after all.

“This is enough!” Joel told him after about half an hour. Sonny gave him a thumbs up. He took a minute to catch his breath, then, slowly and carefully, climbed back down the pile.

Joel inspected his small pile of metal. The steel from the car was a little rusty, but it wasn’t anything some vinegar spray couldn’t fix.

“What are you making?” Sonny finally asked. He knelt down in front of the metal to take a look himself.

“An alien hunting rifle.” Joel replied with an air of pride. Sonny’s eyebrows rose.

“Woah, that sounds sick!” He signed, awestruck.

He brought Sonny up to speed with his plans to build a crazy custom gun. Intrigue sparkled in his eyes the whole time he listened, periodically nodding.

As Joel finished his explanation, Sonny started to sign something, but was interrupted by a voice cutting through behind them.

“What are you still doing out?”

Joel looked over his shoulder, and Sonny peered around him.

“Fucking Martha.” He muttered, only loud enough for him and Sonny to hear. “You’re not my mom.” He said, louder this time.

“And you’re old enough to be my dad—Look, I don’t have time to do this little dance.” Martha said, catching herself. She approached them and took a quick note of Sonny before returning her ever-unhappy gaze to Joel. She began again with a quieter, more level tone. “We discovered two bodies earlier today.”

A stretch of potent silence drug out between the three of them.

“…Shit.” Was all Joel could say. She nodded solemnly.

“…Where were they?” Sonny signed, slow and tentative. Martha was taken aback by the use of sign language, and it took her a moment to translate.

“There was one outside the pizzeria, and the other was just outside on the off ramp.”

Sonny turned to Joel and shook his shoulders. “Isn’t the pizzeria where the alien picture was taken??”

“He remembers, my work here is done!” Joel said dramatically. She became a bit suspicious, glancing between the two of them.

“Sorry, I…don’t know much ASL.” She confessed.

Joel straightened with renewed pride.

“Sonny here was asking if the photo—the proof I showed you, which was taken in the alley behind Gianni’s—is where you found the body.” He elaborated, flashing her a dumb, smug grin.

Her expression went sour. “There’s no way that’s what you said, right?” Martha asked with a twinge of disbelief, turning to Sonny. He was a little confused by her reaction, which made sense, he didn’t know the long history between these two. He looked over to Joel, whose grin had faded into an upturned line, then back to her. Eventually, Sonny nodded a little sheepishly.

Martha softly groaned at the confirmation, and crossed her arms as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Great, you got another poor soul indoctrinated into your alien junk. Yes, I suppose the locations are one and the same, but that still doesn’t mean it was aliens.”

Sonny tried to protest his indoctrination, but Martha wasn’t even looking at him. She took a deep breath and leveled her voice again.

“I heard you over here and came to tell you to go home. We don’t know anything about the culprit yet, so we instated a curfew.” Martha said. “It’s at 6 o’ clock, so you still have a few hours, but if either of you need to do something or go somewhere, do it now.” She instructed. Seconds later, a different voice called her name from outside the junkyard.

“Alright, I have to make some more rounds around town. You two stay safe.” She told them as she walked out of view. “And don’t even think about going back out to wherever you were, that’s an order!” Martha popped in one last time, waggling a finger at Joel before jogging away. They heard the slapping of her boots against the pavement for a few seconds, then everything returned to silence.

Joel scanned his pile of parts. He let out a short huff and looked over at Sonny.

“We should get these back to my place.” He stated, then stood up and brushed off the butt of his jeans. “I don’t want to run into the wicked fuckin’ witch of the west after CuRFew~.” He gestured mockingly. Sonny nodded and followed suit.

Thankfully, delivering the parts didn’t take more than an hour. They went back and forth a couple times, one guy bolstering each end of the metal chunks. The whole time it felt like Sonny was carrying most of the weight, but neither of them acknowledged it. Besides, they were both small in different ways, but Joel was pretty sure Sonny was stronger. It’s more efficient this way. Once they dropped off the last piece just inside his house, Sonny waved him goodbye and left for his own place before the curfew hit.

Ah, silence at last. Or rather, signless. He liked Sonny and all, but it took way more of his focus than it should to look over so much, just to make sure he wasn’t missing something. Joel shut the front door and sauntered over to his desk. The rifle’s blueprint still lay spread over it with several tchotchkes holding down the edges.

Professor Meowingtons sniffed the collection of metal and mewed, batting at them with his paw.

“Do you like it?” He asked, picking up the cat. “You think it’s good gun material?” Meowingtons extended his paws to the sky. They flopped back down and he purred, nuzzling his head into Joel’s hand.

“Oh, big stretch.” Joel babied. He set him down and took one of the smaller pieces of steel to his desk with him. He laid it over part of the diagram, and muttered something to himself, making a note of the size of the piece. It wasn’t the right shape, and even if it was, it was too big. Luckily, Joel had the foresight to fix this problem. One of his many tinkering projects had been a heavily modded laser cutter.

He slid over to it in his chair, powered it on, and adjusted a few settings. The sheet slid inside easily, and Joel programmed the shape and size of the cut. He shut the opaque black lid—built for eye protection—before starting it up. Who knows what kind of optical damage you’d get from staring at sparking metal and lasers. Once it hummed to life, Joel took out his phone and started scrolling through Twitter. Meowingtons hopped up into his lap and curled between the crook of his knees.

Now he just had to wait.

Chapter Text

A round of CSGO was interrupted by an odd sound. Joel picked up one side of his headphones and listened. There was a vibration, then a pause, then something hitting plastic, then another vibration. He leaned back in his chair and craned his neck to try to find the source, and saw Professor Meowingtons batting his phone around on the desk. The vibrations kept spooking him, his back jerking into a fluffed up arch. He paced back and forth around the object and then smacked it off. Joel’s phone hit the carpet but continued to vibrate, moving across the soft surface.

He reluctantly exited the game when he saw the name light up the screen. As Joel went to pick it up, the ever humorously named contact of playboy magazine wore out its dialup, then immediately began another. There was an urgency in that immediate redial that Joel didn’t like. He answered the phone and was met with panicked, shaky breathing.

“Joel?” Wes’s voice came through the speaker, as he expected. His voice was lowered into something not much louder than a whisper, and it crackled like he was having a hard time getting the word out of his throat.

“Correct.” Joel answered.

“Joel, Joel, are you—? Oh. Cool. There’s…something…something happened. To the, girl, I was with. Last night.”

“What, did she not like you? You guys not have good sex?” Joel teased. He heard the sound of a door opening and closing on Wes’s end, as well as more of his shaky breathing.

“No. No the…the sex was fantastic.” He sighed. There was no joy in his tone, it was just a dry statement. “Sorry, I um. I had to get out of my apartment. Something, some animal I think, got into the, um, th-the room. While we were sleeping.” He paused for a long time. As jerkish as he was, Joel could recognize his friend’s earnest distress—so he said nothing. “She…her…her body is, it’s in my room it, it’s there, it’s in the whole fucking place.” He paused again, not for as long, it almost sounded like he started crying. “Could…could you just come over?”

Joel looked over to Meow, who laid on the desk watching him and flicking his tail.

“Yeah, I can come.” He said. He didn’t get a response after that, not a verbalized one anyway. Wes attempted to say something through his distressed noises, but it came out as a weird squeak. Though something in it still came through as relieved.

Joel ended the call and immediately pulled up Sonny’s number. He’d given it to him before he left last night. He was about to call him, but realized how stupid that would be and sent him a message instead, asking him if he would tag along. The message-in-progress three dots appeared seconds after he sent it. A few seconds after that, Sonny’s response came through.

you need to come with me to Wes’s apartment. he said there’s a body in there. could be the alien

Abolutly!! <3 Meet u tere!

A little overexcited, but Sonny’s so puppies-and-rainbows whimsical anyway, so he didn’t think much of it. He was apparently not great at spelling either.

“Sonny’s so weird.” Joel thought aloud, scratching Meowingtons behind the ears. He made a few little meows in response and then moved his head further away from Joel’s hand, hissing. “You’re gonna be grumpy today? Fine. You know you love me. Fuckin’ cat.”

There was no way he was taking any of his equipment all the way across town, not if he was the one carrying it. Joel slipped on his hat as he made his way out, locked the door, and started walking.

———

The Gormond apartment complex looked as unassuming and boring as most apartment buildings did, and it boasted a peeling, sun-bleached roof like every other place in town.

The sun beat down on his back, slouched and covered in black fabric, it was at just the right angle to get scorched by the heat. But the entrance was close now, and Joel could spot Sonny leaning just outside the door, looking through something on his phone. He perked up as Joel’s footsteps crunched in the dry dirt.

“You think you’re the flash or sommut?” Joel asked, not looking for a real answer, just annoyed with the sweat running down his face after a five minute walk.

“I live here.” Sonny signed.

“Lucky. You didn’t have to walk through the fuckin’ Sahara.” He replied as he pumped his shirt to pull air through the collar.

They shuffled inside, and it took a moment for Joel’s eyes to adjust to the dim lights. One single lamp hung from the ceiling of the lobby. It illuminated everything just enough to see, but like the rest of the building, desperately needed to be changed out. The place looked more like an outdated prison than apartments.

Joel looked around for the elevator, but of course when he found it, it was closed for maintenance, indicated by some yellow tape in front of the open shaft. He let out a short huff as he theatrically turned around and stepped in the direction of the staircase. They must’ve only taken five minutes to get up the stairs, but it felt a lot longer.

“You were really vague in your text.” Sonny signed once they were at the door to Wes’s floor, and he was in Joel’s view again.

“I told you as much as I knew. He said some incoherent bullshit about an animal getting in and mentioned something about a body in his room. I’m the alien guy, I suspect alien, I come.”

Sonny looked kind of concerned, eyes flicking across the floor and face a hollow kind of serene. He shoved his hands in his pockets and didn’t sign for a while while they walked down the hallway.

“If you really believe someone died, you’re being very calm about it.” He signed eventually.

“It’s called being a fucking man.” Joel responded gruffly. “A little guy like you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

A smile and a playful eye roll gave away Sonny’s security about such a claim.

The two turned the corner, and after a few seconds, Joel spotted his friend outside his apartment door. Wes was in a bathrobe, and had his arms curled around himself, leaning against the wall. He looked tired, noticeably tense, but he lit up a little seeing them.

“You couldn’t have gotten here any sooner, I feel like something’s watching me even out here.” Wes expressed through some nervous laughter.

“You aren’t crying in my ear anymore, so I assume you’re better.” Joel said with possibly the least sympathy.

“Don’t give me that! I’m allowed to be upset after someone was murdered in my home.” He hissed between his teeth.

Wes’s eyes darted around before he waveringly placed his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not going into the bedroom. Obviously. Tell me if you…find any clues or something.”

Wes let go of the knob as Joel went to grab it, and Joel glanced at them.

“Ready to see baby’s first homicide?” Joel asked, waving a hand for comedic effect. It didn’t land. Wes made a kind of ‘uh-uh’ sound with his mouth shut, and Sonny gave him a generally disapproving expression. “Fine. No one’s any fun today.”

He opened the door and Sonny’s face immediately scrunched up, his mouth forming an acute rectangular shape. It took a few moments, but the smell reached Joel’s nose and he winced at it too. The strong metallic scent of iron. Wes followed cautiously behind them, constantly glancing around like he thought whatever did the murder was still there.

Sonny and Joel walked in further and tried to find the source of the smell. The room they’d entered—the living room—didn’t seem to have anything suspicious. In fact, it was weirdly empty. Quickly though, Sonny nudged his shoulder. Joel turned to him, and he nodded his head to the side. He guided him to the unopened bedroom door. Even with it closed, the horrid smell seeped out from under the crack.

Sonny turned the knob, and as the door creaked open, the two were unceremoniously greeted by a gruesome scene. Blood pooled on the floor and had begun to soak into the carpet, and splatters seemingly thrown in a fit ran the walls. It was smeared all over the far side of the bed, but Wes’s side was spotless. Whatever did this, it wasn’t worried about a clean kill.

Joel took a few steps forward and reluctantly peered around the far bedpost, with Sonny close behind. He could feel himself begin to grimace as the corpse came into view.

It was the body of a woman, but he only knew that because Wes told him. The person was completely unrecognizable. She was barely held together by the shreds of skin left on her bones, just a pile of mangled flesh lying in its own fluids. It was gnarly in every sense of the word.

Sonny covered his mouth with his hands, looking down at her with shocked, pinprick eyes. Wes stood outside by the couch, waiting for some kind of verdict. Joel turned around, lurched into his hand a little like he was trying to keep vomit down, then cleared his throat as he stepped out.

“Well we definitely can’t mount her like this.” He said.

“Mount???” Wes abhorred, gaping.

“Yeah, like taxidermy.”

Wes threw up on the spot, just put over his already rampant disgust and fear by the comment, then coughed several times.

“Oh god, Joel. Ugh. That’s awful. Why are we friends??”

“Uh, because we like each other? What kind of fuckin’ question is that?”

Sonny tapped Joel’s shoulder again.

“I know you don’t want to talk to the police, and Wes’s still super shaken. I can report it.” He offered.

“Are you going to tell the cops?” He asked Wes. He looked almost offended by the question, and glared at him with wide eyes.

“Of course not, I don’t wanna have to relive this shit! It’s been like twenty minutes!” He shouted, now filled with a current, Joel-caused anger more than fear.

“Cool. Go ahead.”

At that, Sonny moved past them to the front door and left. The moment the door shut, Wes took a deep, steadying breath.

“…I didn’t want to say anything before, but who is that guy and why’s he here?”

“Sonny? He’s been helping me sort out all this alien shit. He wants to help me track it down, plus he’s really into sci-fi.” Joel explained.

Wes looked nervous all over again. He walked around to the front of the couch and sat down, teetering on the end of the cushion, on edge.

“He’s not…unsettling to you?” He asked, looking up at him as Joel joined him on the sofa.

“No? He’s fuckin’ weird and “laughs” at every quip I make, sure, but not unsettling.” Joel replied after some thought.

“The whole time he was here, he just—he just had this blank smile on his face and took you straight to where the…you know.” Wes lowered his voice at the last bit. “And the fact that he saw a dead body and then just left like it wasn’t…that.” Joel looked mildly amused.

“Are you being ableist, Wes? I can’t believe it.” He mocked, just barely different from his typical monotone voice.

“Joel, I’m being serious. Don’t act like if he didn’t care about the alien that you wouldn’t be up in arms about his muteness.” Wes asserted, straightening over Joel’s slouch. “I’m not trying to be ableist. Sonny just gives me a really bad vibe.”

“Ok. If you say so.” Joel shrugged and went to get up, but Wes grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Hold on, I have kind of a big favor to ask of you. I know your house isn’t big enough for both of us, so could you stay here for a while?”

Joel just stared at him.

“I know the police will clean up everything, but being in my apartment alone after what happened, I think I would go insane. You could sleep on the couch. It’s comfy.”

Joel looked like he was thinking about it.

“Please, man.” Joel looked up at the ceiling. “Joel, come on man, I’m terrified.” Wes begged, shaking his arm in both hands. A long silence passed between the two of them, then Joel sighed.

“Fine. But Meowingtons is coming too.”

Chapter Text

A month had passed since Joel had reluctantly holed up with Wes. He had begun to take notes on his suspicions and theories about the alien, and quickly made an extensive log of noticings about the murders he attributed to it. Oh that’s right, the murders. In the past month, eight more bodies had been found, all in similarly mangled states as the woman in Wes’s room. That made eleven in total, and it was clear to Joel when he saw the woman that who or whatever was doing this was a singular entity. Two bodies could be brushed off as a coincidence. Plus, the one by the road could have easily been a car accident. Three however, is a pattern, and eleven murders in this short a time definitely got this up in some record as one of the craziest serial killer streaks in national history.

As Joel wrote something, whatever sitcom he had on as background noise suddenly changed to a news headline. The red, bottom third banner cycled through a synopsis of the situation while the reporter started to speak.

“Breaking news: Police have discovered the twelfth victim in a string of murders in Gormond, Arizona—a sleepy town with less than a thousand residents. Throughout the month of August, several bodies have been found in the rural area in nearly unrecognizable condition. According to Sheriff Keszler of the Gormond police, all of the victims appear to have been ‘torn apart, with all or most of their organs missing.’ No suspects have currently been identified.”

That was another thing. When the first three bodies were found, local news was all over it, but now news reports from massive stations on the supposed homicide were running rampant thousands of miles out.

Joel powered off the tv with the remote. He leaned back on the sofa, pressed his eyes shut, and failed to suppress a groan.

“I told you that one was bad, I don’t know why you even bothered to watch it.” Wes chided. Joel opened his eyes to see him standing over him in his stupid fuzzy robe, sipping coffee from his mug.

“What.”

“The sitcom, Sarah and Muriel. You look more frustrated than I was with it.”

Joel shifted in his seat with no more than a languid roll, and glanced over what he’d written. He massaged the ridge of his eyebrows in frustration.

“I was never paying attention to the show, it’s the news.” He said. Wes nodded knowingly. Since the woman got murdered in his room, he’s developed some weird holier-than-thou complex about the whole situation.

He came over and sat next to him, casually throwing one leg over the other and taking another sip of his coffee.

“Well, you know what they say: ‘When the news has got you down, you can’t wear a frown.’”

“Nobody has ever once fucking said that.” Joel replied. The more days he spent with this man, the more shooting the guy with his cat sounded reasonable. Wes just shrugged.

“Maybe not, but it’s a good sentiment.”

Joel shook his head, and looked at him with some kind of bewildered scowl.

“What the fuck does that even mean, ‘it’S A goOD sEntIMenT’?” He mocked with a whiny, Patrick Star-adjacent voice. “It would be a good sentiment if the cops tried just once to be competent.”

Meowingtons seemed attracted to the noise and slithered around the couch to jump up into Joel’s lap.

“You were a cop once, why don’t you just do the whole investigation yourself?”

Joel blinked.

He could. They were probably desperate for any kind of lead by now. Cradling their knees and rocking back and forth in a corner with an array of files on the floor, it was a hilarious image. And with all the crap they’d given him, it would simply be the universe righting the balance—not that Joel believed in any of that karma bullshit.

“I see that smile.” Wes teased with a nudge to his arm.

“Yeah, yeah, turns out you’re not a perpetual dumbass, congratulations.” Joel said, folding up his notepad with a roll of his eyes. Meowingtons relocated to Wes’s lap as he stood.

Within a few minutes, he was out the door trudging towards the police station again. His bag of evidence weighed down his shoulder. For some reason, it felt heavier this time, like it, too, was trying to hold him back. Stupid fuckin’ thing. He would get on the case, even if it meant he’d have to do all the work himself. It’s not like he hadn’t been doing that already.

Central plaza was just as sweltering as the last time he was here. Aside from the absence of a child shaped stain walking around, the area looked the exact same as it had a month ago.

Joel pushed open the door to the station and mildly winced at the bell. That had somehow gotten more obnoxious. He scanned the lobby, but no one was out. Even Martha’s usual post at the front desk was abandoned. A couple voices faintly piped up behind a door, sounding upset, more specifically frustrated.

Gee, can’t imagine why. Joel thought. The eye roll came free with the sarcastic remarks at this point.

Martha pushed open the door, with the sheriff right behind her. Joel immediately noticed the bags—more akin to mattresses—that underlined their eyes. Sheriff Keszler especially looked exhausted, despite his usual stoicism.

“…I’m not sure what else to do, we’ve exhausted all our resources.” She said at the tail end of some sentence.

“I agree, but you know we can’t say that. It sounds like a surrender.” The sheriff replied. Martha nodded with a straight mouth.

“Let me on to the investigation, and the resources will spawn right in.” Joel said.

The officers gave him a look. It wasn’t clear what they thought exactly, but he noted that their glares appeared…softer than usual.

“You don’t look surprised.”

“We thought you might make yourself known at one time or another. You always do.” Sheriff Keszler acquiesced. “Especially since this—” he gestured towards his bag, “Seems to be your forte.” He had seen Joel’s collection of evidence before, not nearly as much as Martha, considering he didn’t seek the sheriff out, but he was familiar.

Joel’s mouth twitched, not a smirk exactly, but a tease at one. Acknowledgement felt good. It was about fucking time. He could let himself relish in it later.

Martha furrowed her brow at his words, and looked at him like he was insane for saying them. She massaged the bridge of her nose.

“This really isn’t a good time. We’re stretched pretty thin right now. If we let you on, all you’re going to do is tell us it’s ‘the alien’ and be an HR nightmare again.”

“If it’s a nightmare for someone to call your bullshit, then I’m your fuckin’ worst.” Joel snapped without missing a beat.

Nobody said anything for a long time after that, but words were felt. The two glared at each other, years of arguments and workplace tension fueling each narrowed eye and crinkled brow. Keszler barely paid any mind to it. It wasn’t that long ago that this was an everyday occurrence. Joel eventually broke the staring contest, and set down his duffel bag. He rolled a bit of soreness from his shoulders as he unzipped it and rummaged through the contents.

Pulling out a photo and a ziplock bag, he approached them and rather ungracefully placed the two items in their hands.

“Joel, what is this?” Martha asked, exasperated. She turned over the glass-like object within the bag. Sheriff Keszler hardly glanced at the photo, only rubbing his finger slightly over a stained edge.

“These are some of the alien’s teeth.” He started. He wasn’t actually entirely sure if they were its teeth, but they were definitely part of the creature. “I found them in town a while ago. The picture is from when it was spotted behind Gianni’s. You can see its mouth is open, and the teeth look the same.”

“This is glass.” The sheriff said like it was some kind of revelation.

“You think all teeth are made from the same shit? These are space teeth. Use your imagination.” Joel said, flicking where his own brain was.

“Right. My mistake.”

Joel frowned. For fuck’s sake, he’s been an adult for over two decades, he didn’t deserve that patronizing tone.

Martha rolled the teeth between her fingers. She wasn’t taking it seriously for sure, but she was examining it in some way at least. After a moment, she touched Sheriff Keszler on the shoulder and nodded her head away from them. He looked confused, but followed her a few steps back as she put her hand up and appeared to whisper something in his ear. His brows rose, and he made brief eye contact with Joel as he gave a slight nod to whatever she said. Joel let his shoulders relax as he huffed an exhale through his nose.

“What are you, five? I’m right here.” They ignored him. He heard a low ‘good idea’ from the sheriff before they walked back to him.

“How about this: if you can bring back proof that your alien was at any of the crime scenes, something that none of our team has found, then I will add you to the investigation and you’ll have full access to our evidence in the back. In fact, if you do, you can add all of the stuff in your collection to it as well.” Keszler proposed.

“Deal.” Joel replied simply. They stood there for a few seconds like they expected there to be more to his answer, then walked out behind him. The bell jingled as he put the items back in his bag. He left not long after on his quest.

After dropping off his hefty bag and giving Meow some much needed morning scratches, Joel left again with his notepad, as well as latex gloves and a few ziplock bags. They didn’t tell him the locations of any of the crime scenes, probably attempting to rig the negotiation against him. Apparently they had forgotten about his tendency to research too, because neither of them mentioned anything about confiscating notes. Either way, this was going to be a breeze. Joel flipped through the pages and scanned his notes. Murder one was behind Gianni’s, but that was kind of a far walk, and number three was the one in Wes’s apartment—That one had been fully cleaned up. No, they weren’t living in an apartment with a rotting dead corpse. Though Joel supposed if they were, it wouldn’t be much worse than his sweltering hellhole of a house.

He decided on murder seven, a more conspicuous kill behind the local grocery store. Some of the others were at least in an alley, but at some point the alien stopped caring about being discreet. Most important to Joel though, was its closeness. As much as he loved rubbing his findings in the officers’ faces, he just wanted to get this over with. He was itching to get his grubby hands on the stuff at the station.

Joel trudged down the worn road with the sun on his neck. Gormond was starting to look like a ghost town. When the curfew was instated, dozens of people left, going on an extended vacation or staying with relatives to avoid the risk of death. It’s not like the place was deserted, but the atmosphere had changed dramatically in the past month, tense and heavy with unspoken dread—well, that’s the description he got from Wes. Joel hadn’t really felt it himself. Frankly, he didn’t care. It was a little odd though, when he got to the grocery store and there was no one in sight. He half expected a tumbleweed to pass through, bouncing listlessly in front of the building.

The entertaining thought marinated in the back of his mind as Joel walked around the side and into the back area. Aside from a couple dumpsters, the only thing back there was the scene of the crime. It was pretty hard to miss, what with the bright caution tape and dense swarms of flies. Joel’s face shriveled up as the smell of death reached his nose.

He pulled the thin gloves on and tugged at them several times before they felt okay on his skin. The feeling was uncomfortably prevalent, but Joel tried to ignore it. The stench was horrible as he sauntered up to the corpse, eyes watering as he crouched down to inspect it. A large swath of bone was visible across the ribcage and femurs, but many other areas of the body still had meat, accompanied by a whole host of decomposers feasting. In his defense, the one in Wes’s room didn’t smell nearly as bad. Joel cursed at himself for not bringing a nose plug.

With a gloved hand, he parted through the flesh. He moved through different sections of the body, looking for anything foreign while swatting at bugs. After a few minutes, Joel stumbled over to the chain link fence. He gripped the chains with one hand while the other braced himself against his knee. He took a few breaths away from the smell, then got back to it. A small white thing poked through some tendons, but when he revealed more, it was only maggots.

Joel pieced through a thicker chunk of meat and found some deep gashes, a little rotted, but not stripped away enough to disguise the wound. He took one glove off, and wiped the sweat on his jean leg, then fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened the wound a little wider with two fingers and snapped a photo. They looked eerily similar to the picture on his wall, three gashes, two close together and a third off lower and off to the side—likely an opposable thumb. Vaguely reminiscent of the logo on a monster can.

He stepped away again to breathe and slipped his glove back on with a huff. Taking out a ziplock bag, Joel pinched a piece of the wound and extracted it with some amount of care. He slipped the chunk into the bag and forced any air out before closing it. A minute later, his eyes began watering from the reeking decay. God, this was going to take forever if he kept taking breaks. Joel didn’t need breathers, he needed this to be over with.

An hour passed pushing through the rot and its accompanying miasma, and it seemed he had turned up everything he could. Between the smell, the frustration, and the constant awareness of latex touching his hands, Joel was long since ready to move on. He examined his findings: the slash wound, and some odd gooey substance that might have just been a squished bug. Not the best haul, and certainly not the heaping proof Joel expected to find. As much as he didn’t want to, this wasn’t going to win him the bet. He needed to go to a recent kill that decomposition hadn’t touched as much.

Joel shoved the clammy gloves into the dumpster and flipped to his most recent note—the murder from this morning, number eleven. That was his best chance to get something concrete, even to those ignorant assholes at the station.

———

There it was, barely concealed by the corner of a taller, brick building. Caution tape framed the body like the other, but it was in much better condition. Joel shooed away some crows, and tried to ignore the flies buzzing him as he once again crouched down to inspect it. With more of the skin intact—besides the gaping holes from the attack—any superficial damage would be much more noticeable.

Joel gave an irritated hum as he separated the chunks of flesh, watching the already plentiful larvae wriggle around inside. Hopefully the maggots hadn’t eaten too much yet.

Immediately, something caught his eye away from the corpse. He stood and went over to look at it. Joel picked up the shining thing and ran it between his fingers. Removing a smudge of what was probably blood, it looked like a thin, sturdy scale, mostly tan, but shimmering with an iridescent teal when it caught the light. A smile curled. This was exactly like the other scales he’d found. This was the priceless loot he was sent to find.

His excitement dissolved soon, however. He was up to his elbows in literal dead weight and hadn’t found a single thing still inside. The scale was great, but Joel wanted more. He desperately needed to do something else though, his brain was going to explode if he had to keep searching this thing. It took him a little while, but Joel realized that this was a huge opportunity to identify the alien’s m.o., so to speak, the condition of th bodies.

He pulled his blood-caked gloves off and tossed them aside, cringing at the clammy sheen on his hands as he wiped them on his pants. A pen clattered on the dirt as he took out his notepad, but it was hard to see in the dimming light. The shadow of the building had slowly crept across the crime scene. Joel fished his phone out and turned on the flashlight. He’d seen some parts of the general condition these things came in, but never paid much attention. Admittedly, Joel hadn’t found it that interesting until he’d been staring at one for an hour.

Joel clicked his pen and started to scribble out a childishly crude diagram. He labeled some areas, then turned the page to get a description: The lower legs were mostly intact, but the meat of the thighs was shredded away by clawing on biting with sharp teeth. The arms were horribly mangled, bent into ways they shouldn’t, with the ulna sticking out at the elbow and hitting the upper arm unnaturally. The entire torso region was gone. The spine was clearly visible, and not much remained around it aside from the occasional skin scrap. Cartilage was missing from around the sternum, likely busted in to eat the missing organs—heart, lungs, you name it. The only organs left were the entrails, which had been laid out away from the rest of the body, discarded like a leaky blood sausage. What Joel thought was the most morbidly fascinating however, was the face. It was the least destroyed, but that almost made it appear worse. The head itself had been squished into a blob around the skull, fractured at best, shattered at worst, it was difficult to tell with the face still whole and amorphous atop it. Lips had been pulled back to the chin to reveal the gums—or would be gums if they hadn’t been shredded as well. Cloudy eyes popped out of their sockets, engulfed with little bugs, and it looked like the nose had been broken sometime during the attack.

Joel clicked his pen idly while he went over it. It seemed like that was everything. He sighed, tired, but accepting that he wasn’t done.

He picked up his phone and started to rise. As soon as he did, the flashlight beam reflected off of a sudden silhouette’s eyes in front of him.

“Holy—!” Joel jumped and his phone flew out of his hands. He scrambled to catch it, then aimed it at the figure.

“It’s ok, I don’t bite.” Sonny teased.

Joel deflated with a sigh.

“I know you don’t talk and all, but you can’t sneak up on me like that.” He hissed despite a relieved smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll stomp or something next time.” He signed, reflecting the smile.

Joel scribbled some things down before handing Sonny his phone.

“Light me.”

Sonny obliged, albeit a little confused, and shone the beam over the corpse while Joel put on new gloves and continued. After a few minutes of searching and coming up dry, he sat back with a grumble. Sonny crouched next to him and set the phone down. It underlit him like he was going to tell a campfire story.

“So, what are you looking for, exactly?”

“Proof of the alien doing the killings. If I find anything, the police’ll let me on the case.”

“Isn’t tampering with evidence illegal?”

“I got permission to tamper.” Joel said simply. Sonny nodded slowly, mouth parted like he got the implication. “M’luck’s been shit though.”

“But it looks like you found something.” He signed, gesturing towards the scale, now in its own clear bag. Joel shrugged.

“I mean, yeah.”

They sat for a bit, suddenly weighted by an awkward silence. Sonny sat against the wall and laid his arm across a drawn in knee. Joel rolled his head towards him as he started signing again.

“I can take a look. Sometimes it helps to get a second pair of eyes.”

“Be my fuckin’ guest.” He gesticulated at the corpse.

Sonny stood up with the phone light in hand and hiked his legs over the caution tape. Joel watched idly as Sonny stood contraposto, with his hand propped over his mouth in concentration, while he scanned the body. Honestly, Joel didn’t think he would find anything. He was the extraterrestrial forensics guy. If he couldn’t find it, he didn’t think Sonny could materialize a claw out of thin air.

Just as he doubted him, Sonny’s eyes widened, and he pointed out a spot that Joel couldn’t quite see. He shuffled to his feet and appeared at his side. Scrutinizing the area, he found something broken deep into the skin of the person’s arm. It was almost completely transparent, and Joel only saw it because of the round reflection of the flashlight.

“Well fuck me.” Joel said, kind of impressed.

“I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.” Sonny signed. Joel snorted.

“You’re terrible.”

Sonny smiled.

The object slid right out when he gave the surrounding mass a light squeeze. Glass, bumpy on one side, a serrated zipper-like edge on the other.

“A tooth?” Sonny asked. Joel grinned, almost grimaced.

“My ticket in.” He answered.

As the words left his mouth, an odd finality crept over him. His anticipation had been growing for months, coming to heart-pounding heights in the past hours, but as Joel turned the tooth over in his hands, it just stopped. It was like the world finally caught up with him, but he was over the hype. A weird feeling to be sure.

He twitched as he felt something graze his shoulder. He straightened and saw Sonny retracting his hand, only noticing now the ache in his neck from bending it. Must’ve zoned out too long.

“Time to go shove this in Keszler’s face.” Joel decided, sticking his pen back in his pocket and slipping the tooth into a bag. He got to the corner of the building and looked behind him. Sonny stood there, staring at the corpse like it owed him money.

“You coming?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

———

Joel practically kicked the door open when they got to the police station, Sonny followed close behind him, just less aggressively. The place was deserted. Joel waited for a bit to see if they’d come out, then when they didn’t, all but stomped across the lobby to push open the door to the property room. Tables were set against the wall, covered in labeled bags and small boxes. He pushed farther, peeking his head around corners and eventually wandering around the corner.

Sonny explored with much less haste. The hallway in the back had a tall ceiling, lined with lifeless fluorescents that made everything look paler. He heard a faint conversation from one of the doors and found that it was ajar. With one eye peering through the crack, Sonny saw the officer who had found them at the junkyard sitting at a table, as well as a bald man and blonde woman wearing the same police uniforms. He had no idea which one was Keszler.

The door creaked a little more, and like it called him, Joel appeared at Sonny’s side and swung it open. He stood haughtily in the doorway and presented the tooth and scale to the group. They turned around at the sound of the handle hitting the wall, but barely seemed phased.

“You’re back early.” Martha said, slightly amused.

“I didn’t think you would speed through this so fast. You usually have so much alacrity for your alien.” The sheriff almost chided.

“I work fast.” Joel clapped back without hesitation. “You used to keep me around for that.” He put the ziplock bag on the table without breaking eye contact.

The blonde woman reached over and grabbed it. Sheriff Keszler eyed its contents, then turned back to the two men as he walked around the table. Sonny gave a demure wave when his glaring eyes landed on him. Joel leaned against the wall as the officers inspected his findings—or, their findings, he supposed, Sonny did find the tooth. Would he acknowledge it aloud? No, but he would acknowledge it.

No one said a word for what felt like a long time, aside from an occasional whisper amongst the officers. It felt like the air itself was holding its breath. Joel certainly was. He almost didn’t realize it until he started to feel lightheaded. His anticipation had subsided earlier, but now it was back at its climax. They didn’t expect him to follow through, he was fully aware. As soon as Martha had pulled the sheriff aside to talk to him, Joel knew he wasn’t taken seriously. He was never taken seriously, but in that moment, it really stung.

Eventually, they nodded to each other, appearing to have made a decision. Joel clenched his jaw. The blonde woman got up and walked towards the door. Sonny stepped back to let her through, they watched silently as she strode away, bag in hand, to a different room.

“So?” Joel broke the silence. The three of them left the room, and now all four stood in the hallway, two on each side, gazing at the person in front of them like some kind of standoff.

“She’s going to test the DNA and chemical evidence of the stuff in your bag. I can admit when I don’t know something, so I’ll tell you—I don’t know the whole process, but when Lisa comes out, we’ll know if you’re on the case.” Martha explained. She turned to Sonny, looking more sympathetic, if not just exhausted. “Sonny, right? I’m sorry he keeps roping you into this. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Joel looked at him. Sonny blinked a couple times.

“I’m here of my own volition.” He signed. Joel cracked a smile, half smug, half genuine.

“Believe it or not, I have a partner in crime.” He boasted. Martha’s eyes widened and sheriff Keszler furrowed his brow in disbelief. He heard a spurt of air force its way out Sonny’s nose. “Not like that. Dumbasses, all of you.”

“He’s probably too young for you anyway.” Martha said, almost under her breath. But they both heard.

“How old—

—do you think I am?” They asked in almost unison.

“I don’t know, fifties and twenties?” She guessed. She waved her hand vaguely between the two of them.

“Dude. I’m forty two.” Joel said.

“Thirty six.”

“You’re thirty six?? I thought you were like, fuckin’ twenty five.” Joel said, shocked. Sonny shook his head with a slightly awkward smile. “Shit. Old.” He lightly jabbed him in the shoulder.

———

They waited quite a while before Lisa came back. Joel was scrolling aimlessly through Twitter again, and he was pretty sure Sonny was watching some robot fighting movie. When she did, she looked tired, and not just physically. Lisa looked like she’d discovered something that existentially altered her view on the world, which Joel hoped meant that she was on his side.

They all turned their attention to her expectantly.

“…Joel’s right.”

The room erupted. Sonny grabbed Joel by the shoulders and shook him excitedly, mouth open in a silent squeal. Martha’s jaw was on the floor, grilling Lisa for some kind of explanation. She just shrugged and repeated her statement, but she kept pressing. Sheriff Keszler simply hung his head in defeat. All the while, a stupid smile was plastered on Joel’s face as he took it in.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you so happy before.” Sonny said after a bit.

“Yep. And Wes owes me three hundred dollars. I just won a bet.”

Chapter Text

When a harsh light clicked on, Joel squinted and winced with a grunt. He turned around, a pre-cooked glare at the ready, but softened when it turned out to be Sonny.

“Took you long enough.” Joel said, knee-deep in evidence as usual. Sonny offered a few groggy blinks.

“Cut me some slack, man, some of us sleep.” His hand signs were slow, like they too, were just waking up. Joel rubbed his eyes, ironically. The bags under them seemed to get heavier by the second, but Joel had a whole system going to keep him awake, producing energy, efficiency…and a dozen empty red bulls littering the floor.

“I texted you ‘cause I need an artsy type.” Joel explained, scratching the palm of his hand. Sonny glanced down at himself—socks in flip flops, short shorts, oversized hoodie—then back to him.

“Do I seem like an artsy type?” He asked.

“Do you draw?”

Sonny looked at him like the most tired man in existence.

“…yes.”

Joel smirked. Eyes glinting in that way when someone knows what your answer is before you say it.

“Cool. Sit down.”

Sonny picked up a chair and brought it over while Joel scooted to make more room. Several items were spread out in front of him, teeth, scales, collected pieces of skin with foreign marks. Anything that gave him a clue about the alien’s appearance.

Joel laid his notepad and a pen in front of him, and Sonny picked it up after a moment.

“I have a pretty good idea of what the alien looks like.”

Sonny stared into space for a few seconds.

“What’s that look supposed to mean?”

He just shrugged and subtly shook his head. Yes, Joel had dragged him over here just to draw the alien, what was the issue?

“I know it’s big, and it’s got scales, claws, and crazy glass zipper teeth. Probably some big fuckin’ lizard.” Sonny started scrawling out the description. “That looks like a shitty T-Rex. Whatever. It has three claws on each hand, and it’s bipedal. That’s all we have.” Joel said. The bipedal thing he wasn’t totally sure of, but the foot he had—the one Martha had so insolently broken the jar for—seemed pretty bipedal to him. Joel looked over at Sonny’s drawing. Kind of theropod adjacent, but thin and gangly, with two sets of arms and a nubby tail.

“I took some creative liberties.” Sonny signed.

“Yeah, no shit. What’s with the short trunk?” Joel’s mouth curled in almost disgust.

“It makes it look more alien, I think. Trunks are weird.”

“Like those goofy lookin’ deer.” Joel said. Sonny nodded. He started scratching at his hand again, more aggressively this time. Sonny watched him go at it for a moment. Scratching turned to scraping, then he was gnawing at the heel of his hand like it was a piece of steak.

“What’s wrong with your hand?”

“The fuck does it look like? It’s been itching all night.” Joel snapped through his chewing. “Must’ve touched poison ivy or something.”

Sonny just nodded and made several little “u” marks to indicate scales on his drawing. He wasn’t a great artist by any means, but he was good enough to do what Joel asked of him. With its gangly body and weird three digit toes, he could easily imagine the thing scuttling about along those hexagonal goo structures in the UFO. Before Joel knew it, he had chewed his hand raw and was taken out of his thoughts when blood ran under his tongue.

Sonny twiddled the pen between his fingers, head leaning cocked on his other hand as he watched him.

“You ok?” He asked finally.

When Sonny set the pen down to sign, Joel took it, clicked it shut, and began to use it as yet another way to scratch.

“Yeah.” Joel’s brow furrowed. “Maybe it was that blue goop.” He said it entirely to himself, more as a spoken thought than anything.

“I saw something like that at the scrapyard. It was the day I met you, actually.”

Joel kept scratching, but turned his head to fully look at him. Suddenly, he was interested. He still didn’t understand how they’d missed each other that day.

“I didn’t see it until my hand was fuckin’ stuck to it.” He recalled, annoyed. Sonny perked up very abruptly. His eyes were wide and flicking between Joel and his hand. Something was immediately offputting about how Joel felt under his gaze. It was like Sonny knew something that he didn’t, and was even more unsettling when he was entranced by the blisters he’d dug into the heel of his palm.

Then just as fast as it came, Sonny was back to drawing like he hadn’t just been fixated. His mouth parted to say something, but soon it was shut again. Had he seen that right? Suddenly, Joel wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d hallucinated that stare, it was late after all. He tried his best to brush it off, but it lingered in his mind. Sonny held out his hand, and Joel returned the pen wordlessly. A little while later, Sonny left to go back to sleep. The drawing was plenty good for what he needed, so Joel let him go, but not before making him turn off the obnoxious overhead lights on his way out. That intense expression stayed with him, though. Reading faces had never been his strong suit, but he’d picked up on enough to know that he didn’t like that one. Again, all this considering he hadn’t been seeing things.

He turned his attention back to the collection of samples in front of him. It didn’t stay there for long. His eyes stung from scrutinizing every little thing, all in unideal light levels.

Joel turned on his phone and a wave of pressure hit his head from the screen. The time read five something, his brain didn’t quite register the minutes. Joel rubbed his temples. He needed to sleep. Joel laughed, but it was closer to a huff. If he was anything, it wasn’t stupid. At this hour the alien was probably prowling around looking for its next victim, so going home was completely out of the question. Meowingtons could manage by himself anyway.

The screen light shone off of the scale, Joel picked up the bag and started turning it over in his hand while he scrolled through some meaningless Twitter beef. Almost immediately, that horrible itch flared up again. He dropped the scale onto the table and rubbed his palm fervently against his jeans. If he couldn’t go home, Joel needed to be doing something, he couldn’t let himself just sleep here. He frowned and really drove his hand over his pants. This was unmistakably keeping him from working on this case, but there wasn’t anything he could do, and on top of that, Joel’s frustration was really building. The evidence wasn’t going to figure out itself, and apparently, neither was he.

Every blink felt labored as he doomscrolled. He felt the drowsiness cushioning his mind slowly but surely, things got increasingly fuzzier around the edges. At some point, the scratching had become second nature and Joel wasn’t consciously doing it anymore. He caught a glimpse of some red faced politician on his feed before his head clunked against the table.