I was out of the house all day, so I had limited time to write. I did manage to brush up this from my ideas vault, though. Here's hoping you enjoy.
07/10/17: Coins
H.M. Protected Facility TRITON - Somerset, Great Britain
To all the world, it looked like a normal cottage in the hills - perhaps an expensive one, but nothing too out of the ordinary. It was silhouetted against the night sky by the light of the full moon - the only sign of illumination was a dim light on the bottom floor. An old man could just about be seen in the window, gazing out into the darkness.
You'd never know this was one of the most secret government installations in Britain.
What appeared to be an ordinary, elderly man was in fact a member of Mi5. By day, he pretended to be a simple farmer - by night, he stood guard over one of the most secret artefacts in the country. He was one of only about a dozen here - Mi5 relied on secrecy over security in keeping people out of here, and a camp of soldiers would probably look suspicious. In any case, he liked to think he was good at what he did.
He was standing in the living room, listening to an old record player that played Starman as he gazed out into the darkness. It seemed to be another average day, and he was about to swap over with one of the Mi5 agents that guarded the objects downstairs.
Quite suddenly, there came a knock on the door.
The agent wasted no time in grabbing his pistol, holding it behind his back as he crept towards the front door. He didn't want to be too forward - it wouldn't do to reveal a top secret government facility to some poor tourist whose car might have broken down outside.
He opened the door. He was quite surprised at what he found.
"May I help you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Yes, my name is Vlad Masters," the billionaire said, smiling calmly as he nodded to the agent, "And I'm afraid I need to apologise to you."
"Apologise? What about?" demanded the agent.
"This."
The agent was suddenly and violently dragged away from the door by a pair of deathly cold hands. He glanced behind him - for a few seconds, he caught glimpse of a pair of glowing red eyes. Then something came down hard on his head, and everything went dark.
Vlad Plasmius smirked, allowing his human-form clone to merge back into him. He clicked his fingers, and a half-dozen armed gunmen suddenly faded into view on the cottage lawn.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, "We haven't got all day."
He walked purposefully over to the bookshelf and pushed it aside, revealing a steep stairwell into a dark, concrete bunker.
"After you," he said, extending his arm towards it.
Mi5 Analyst Mike Creighton hid in the storage room of the base, peeking out from behind the shelves. Outside the door, two Mi5 agents were standing guard, waiting for the attackers to arrive. He could clearly hear gunshots and footsteps running on the concrete floor - he deeply wished he'd signed up for the Post Office like he'd originally planned to do. He definitely did not want to die guarding some government safe, no sir.
A suited Mi5 agent bolted around the corner, clear terror on his face. He'd dropped his gun and was waving his arms frantically.
"The bullets aren't working!" he shouted, "We have to get out of-"
A pink ray slammed into his back, knocking him hard into the wall. A second later, six armed men in black combat gear rounded the corner, firing at the other two guards as they advanced. The Mi5 men fired back, but their bullets simply bounced from what looked like a pink force-field. A blue-skinned man phased into view behind it - he grinned and thrust out his arms, sending the field crashing into the guards and slamming them into the wall.
"Too easy," the man sneered, strolling into the storage room. The armed men followed - four of them set up to guard the door, while the other two entered with him.
Mike swallowed, trying to press himself closer to the wall. His shoe suddenly squeaked on the concrete.
The man narrowed his eyes.
"Out," he snarled, "Now."
Mike slowly stepped out from behind the shelves, raising his hands.
"Do you have a name?" the blue-skinned man asked.
"M-Mike," replied Mike, "Michael Creighton."
"Vlad Plasmius," replied Vlad, "Mr. Creighton, I don't have any quarrel with you. I simply want the items in your possession."
"My wallet?" swallowed Mike.
"No, you cretin, the coins," snapped Vlad, "Hand them over."
Mike glanced at the safe. He swallowed again, nodded, and stumbled over to it.
"Okay...okay, 5, 3, 2, 2, 6," he said, entering the combination.
There was a loud hiss, and the door slowly opened. Mike and the two armed men stepped back unconsciously - Vlad remained in place.
What they saw was almost disappointing.
In the safe there stood three discs, about the size of a coaster, a centimetre thick and covered in what looked to be ancient hieroglyphics. All of them were adorned with an image of a pyramid and a bird.
"That's it?" one of the gunmen demanded.
"Oh, hardly, Kevin," replied Vlad, "This is simply the beginning."
He turned to Mike and smiled.
" I, Mr. Creighton," he said, "Am going to have quite a lot of fun with these..."
He knelt down and picked up a coin, turning it over in his hands. For a second, the lines engraved on the coin glowed green.
"...quite a lot of fun indeed."
Deep in the depths of space, in the dark void between stars, a light turned on. Then another, and another, and another...
Slowly but surely, the largest ship in the galaxy awoke from a dormancy that had lasted millennia and set itself underway. It was bound for Earth.
AN: mfw Vlad wakes the ancient alien abomination
