Start
Everything started on a gloomy Saturday night in October, with a gas explosion in the suburbs while Alfred F. Jones was about to end his shift. When the call arrived and he jumped for his helmet to put it on and run to the huge red truck to climb in, he didn't expect exactly what he saw later. The street was silence when the truck turned in with incredibly light red flashes, and no one was on the streets. Not even a police car, and this was already strange. Normally a lot of passengers and citizens stand by the dangerous buildings which are (or at least used to be in flames), and now, that was missing too. Alfred frowned, and almost let himself think, maybe this time they won't have to fight with enthusiastic volunteers to run in the building and look for the survivors. This time... everything was different.
It was only him, and three other fellows on the truck, since it was only a small family house. As everyone knew, only an old woman and his husband had lived there, now their house was exploded, but not in flames, and there were no signs of gas in the air either, shown by the special machines. Alfred sighed and just shook his head. His colleagues bit their mouths and shrugged, or just shook their heads, telling him like that, no one wanted to enter that old building. Oh, well, this happened before, and Alfred would do anything to protect a citizen, no matter the cost of it. He cleared his throat and put on the oxygen mask and slowly, with careful steps, entered on the blasted doorway, which was black from the ashes, but... he felt something strange there. He didn't see the signs of flames on the walls, and the kitchen was perfectly... black. No ashes on the walls at all, the glasses in the windows were still there, and he didn't smell burning clothes or wooden materials. What the hell was that, he had no idea, so he turned on the radio to contact the others. "Guys, I dunno what happened here. No signs of gas explosion, no sign of burning. I don't see any person in here."
"Go on, maybe upstairs." Said a young male voice, he didn't dare to recognize the owner, so he quickly checked the kitchen and the living room, then headed upstairs on the old, creaking steps. Now he smelled it. That was the burning flesh, clothes, but no smoke and no actual flame? Acid?! He reached to his oxygen mask and calmed himself for a couple of second. He had the mask on. He was safe. The old, retired couple had no trace or whatsoever in the house. He didn't see pictures of grandchildren or books, and everything looked extremely tidy. When he checked the bathroom upstairs, he sighed in relief as he said on the radio too, he didn't see anyone in there. Then the bedroom came, and as he approached and got closer to it step by step, he felt something growing in his stomach, a kind of nausea or frustration, like his bones, his core of existence would shout to him from inside, to run away from that place and don't even look back on it, just run, escape, get far away...
Alfred slowly opened the door with one hand, the other holding the hammer up beside his head, ready to hit, or to hold up the wood of the door. His eyes widened, and he couldn't breath for a couple of seconds until his brain created the explanation of the picture which laid in front of him.
Aliens.
. . .
"Holy shit!" He shouted, and backed off to the wall of the corridor, then caught to his heart and calmed down his breathing. Both were dead already, they were blasted, they exploded, and now everything in the room was sort of... melting in their acid, which could be their blood before... He couldn't wipe his eyes because of the mask, and he barely made his way to the door again, to look inside. Yes. They had dark blue blood, which was on the ceiling, the floor, the double-seized bed and the tv... "What the..." This acid wasn't just disgusting because of the intestines which were all over the room, but what Alfred actually saw on the floor was an eyeball, big like his fist. And he was a big guy, 5,7 feet tall, and because of his job he had a few muscles on his body. The eyeball was purple with a red circle inside it, and if Alfred wouldn't be shocked by the sight, he would have said, it was looking at him, but as he moved a bit, around one foot left, the eyeball followed his movements.
This dark blue liquid was thick and maybe a kind of glue, because there were no drops on the floor beneath the ceiling, just where they hit it at the time of the explosion. The acid started its work around that time, eating up the clothes and the wood, and... the bones? There were no bones in the room at all, just the fluid substance. Aliens. Goddamn aliens... this is not a gas explosion, and he had no idea what to do with the mess the strangers made. He couldn't even tell that, was it dangerous for the area, or just leave it there to dry? He wasn't sure, to wash it up with water, or light it with a match?
"Alfred, come down. FBI is here."
"On my way." He answered quickly, but shot a glance to the destroyed room again. The floor, which was above the living room started to burn and melt at the same time, which meant that the wooden structure of the building got weaker in this short period of time, and it will get worse. He made a small note in his head to warn the FBI agents about it, when he spot the eyeball again. The red colour switched to yellow. He frowned and tilted his head on the left, and just thought.. "Bomb?"
Alfred Jones jumped back to the corridor again and the eyeball rolled after him, so his panic got bigger than before: he practically screamed and jumped down on the whole line of the stairs, but he felt the big, cold ball on his back. He felt his whole body shaking in fright and from essential panic. Throwing the gas mask off his face, he started getting off the fire-fighter jacket too, which was a horrible idea in itself since the eyeball started melting its way through the fabric, and nearly reached his skin as well. He struggled his left arm out and grabbed the right side of the jacket to throw it off, when all of a sudden, the eyeball was lifted from his back, and he smelled smoke of cigarette in his nose. He didn't dare to move however he was shaking. The sound of an egg breaking could be heard as behind him, the eyeball was finally neutralized, and the creature behind him blew the smoke out, right to the nape of his neck.
There he was, almost squatting on the ground, still holding his jacket in his left fist, his gas mask in front of him on the floor, a mighty protector of the citizens of New York.
"You can stand up, you know." The calm, masculine voice said behind him, and as Alfred finally straightened his back and collected all his bravery to look on his saviour, he felt his jaw dropped. A man in a perfect, black suit with black tie, black trousers and shiny black leather shoes stood in front of him, wiping the dark blue liquid from his palm, cigarette in the right corner of his mouth, and when he realized Alfred's stare, he looked up. "What, luxury to say 'thank you'?"
"Aaa..."
"Don't worry, just a second." The man hummed and reached for his pocket on the right, and took out a silver, small device which was thick like two fingers on Alfred's hand, and it had a small red lamp on the top of it. "Please look in the red spot."
"Why?"
"Because I said so, wanker."
"You just saved my life."
"Wow, congratulations."
"Who are you?"
The man, showing the signs of being tired and weary of the whole conversation, just shrugged and ordered him to look in the light again.
"What, luxury to tell your department, agent?"
"Not you business, fireman. You are useless in this case anyway."
"Maybe I'm not. The building is getting weaker, the whole bedroom upstairs is soaked in the acid, we should get out of here before the roof will fall on our head with the substance, and you can flash with your... " he made a lazy wave with his hand towards the silver device "stick of yours, outside. Also, there are no living creatures in the house except us."
"Oh, are you sure in that?" Alfred frowned at the weird pronunciation of the word 'sure', but he nodded.
"I checked all of the rooms inside. The garden in the back I didn't have time, yet, but that doesn't belong to the term 'in the house', if I'm right."
"You didn't check those who you can't see with your eyes. Human."
Alfred could feel his eyes widen as he looked in the green eyes, and saw the malevolent grin on the man's face. The blood from his face ran off as he took a deep breath, considering running away again, when the man raised the silver device again.
"Now, if you may, look in this red spot."
"Oh, no, you won't hypnotize me, bastard!" And he punched the blond man in the face in a second, then grabbed his tie and pulled him back to knock him out right there, when the wood above their head creaked, and Alfred saw a crack running from the left to the middle... small stones fell from above, so he just grabbed the blond man by his suit to throw him out of the door to jump after him. The ceiling of the living room fell with a loud noise and a huge amount of smoke and dust, so both of them coughed before Alfred raised the hammer from his utility-belt, and the man raised his gun, targeting him with it, almost half meter away from him.
"I hope you are happy now." The agent said.
"I saved your goddamn life before you killed me. Luxury to say thank you?"
"Bugger off, and hold your hands up as you stand up."
"What's your problem, dude?"
"Would you just shut up and look in this red spot already?"
"Just if you tell me your department, and the purpose of this silver stick in your hand."
"Oh, shut up."
Alfred literally closed his eyes. "Deal with this."
He could hear the other man curse under his nose, when he realized an other... more disturbing fact. Silence.
As he opened his eyes for a blink, he didn't see the truck of the fire-brigade. No one was there from the guys. Nothing. Not even the equipment, it was cleared away, and only a pure black Mercedes stood on the road, and in this short amount of time, he couldn't figure out the type. "Where are the others?"
"They obeyed, looked in the red spot, and went home safe. You are the only one I'm struggling with, and the first, too."
"Tell me. What's gonna happen if I look in that light?"
"You're the worst, why don't you trust me for two seconds, I saved your life! If I wanted to leave you there, drowning in the eye of the Kilpanodean, I would-.."
"The what?"
"Bloody wanker, just watch in the light, open your eyes! Now!"
Alfred forced his eyes shut even fiercely than before, even turned his face away, when the cellphone of the agent in front of him rang, and the man picked it up in the split of the second. "On my way, Omega." He paused for a bit, then hissed and cursed for a shot period of time, and as Alfred carefully and slowly opened his eyes to see the person, he saw the man frowning and shaking his head a bit. "I did it, it's done, but I'm stuck with a dumbass American."
"Hey!"
"He just can't open his eyes, and he has contact lenses."
"How did you—"
"Silence, idiot, I'm talking on my cellphone if you couldn't... " The blond agent's eyes widened and flashed the device quickly, but Alfred shut his eyes and covered his face with his hand when he saw the purpose, so the black clothed man simply shot a flashing light in the night uselessly. "Seriously!"
"I'm getting tired of this shit, agent, tell me the reason why you have to flash that stick in my face right now, or I swear I'm gonna throw you into that blue pond in the house!"
"Do not dare to shout with me, you arrogant idiot, and if you would let me do my job—"
"Which is?"
"You have no right to ask this from me!"
What followed was absolutely unexpected. The smaller and thinner man grabbed Alfred's jaw with such strength that the fireman's eyes widened and he couldn't catch his breath for a second, when the agent raised the device and flashed the pure white light in his skull.
A couple of minutes later, Alfred Jones found himself on the ground, laying and having a serious headache. He couldn't see much things, his eyes were hurting bad, and he couldn't find his balance as he tried to stand up. He didn't drink any alcohol, that was his first thought.
He seemed to lose the memories of the last fifteen minutes. All, because of a flashlight.