Chapter 10

"Hello? Hello??"

Dennis was shouting urgently into his phone, which had just received another call from Sam Everett. The search parties for Mario had, so far, turned up no new information, and Dennis was hoping to get clearance to detonate the bomb. If Sam would just pick up the phone and say that he and his friend were safely out…

After a very tense thirty seconds of shouting, Dennis gave up for the time being, not hanging up the phone, but ceasing to shout- for there were muffled, unidentifiable sounds coming from it, indicating someone was still there on the other line. He fairly collapsed in his chair, despairing at his hectic situation. The sooner this nightmare is over, he thought to himself, the better…

Sam and Krystal, of course, were still fighting for their lives. Since Phineas was either a very, very skilled martial artist, possessed superhuman strength, or both, it was mostly a matter of dodging his attacks, which they just barely managed to do. It occurred to Sam that the best way to end this confrontation would be to shoot his opponent, so he shuffled backwards from the fray, simultaneously drawing his weapon. Phineas, distracted by Krystal, actually did a double take as Sam aimed for his head. It was easy enough- since the older man was significantly taller than Krystal, there was virtually no chance of Sam accidentally hitting his friend. Before the Disney executive could react, Sam pulled the trigger.

With a flash of red, Phineas was knocked backwards, hitting the window with a loud thud but, surprisingly, not breaking it. As he slumped against the wall, eyes closed, Sam noticed something odd- his successful headshot had done less visible damage than most successful headshots generally do. True, there was the bullet wound, right between the man's eyebrows- but, other than the initial flash, now splattered around him, there was almost no bleeding. A foreboding feeling rose up inside Sam as he stared at the raw hole in Phineas's head; Krystal, who was now breathing heavily and backing away from Phineas, also seemed to realize that something wasn't quite right. Meanwhile, Mario lay motionless in the same place as before; at some point, he had collapsed from either pain or fear. Sam caught his breath, wondering if, perhaps, he had done something.

Phineas then opened his eyes.

Krystal actually screamed- which was very unbecoming of such a highly-trained agent- but, then again, who could blame her? Sam, for his part, felt as though all of his breath had been sucked out of him. "No," he muttered, as a smile formed on the man's face and he began to get up. "No, that's impossible… it's fucking impossible!!" he shouted suddenly.

"Oh, but it's very possible," spoke Phineas calmly, wiping off a single drop of blood that had been sliding down his nose. "You see, though you indeed managed to injure me just now, your bullet did not strike a vital area."

"Yes it did!!" snarled Sam madly. Krystal was backing away even further, her face paling as she shook her head in disbelief! "I shot you in your fucking brain!"

"No… no, I don't think you did," replied Phineas in that maddeningly calm voice, faking a thoughtful expression.

"YES I DID!!" shouted Sam at the top of his lungs. "I SHOT YOU IN YOUR HEAD!! THAT'S WHERE YOUR BRAIN IS, YOU RETARD!!!"

Phineas actually smiled. Sam felt sick with fury and fear. This man had just been shot in the head, and he was smiling. "Ah," he began dramatically, clearly savoring the effect it had on Sam. "but there is your mistake. The human brain can be found in the head, protected by the skull. I, however, am not human."

Before Sam or Krystal could react to this ludicrous claim, Phineas threw his head back, as though with laughter; reached up to his neck; grabbed holds of two folds of skin on either side; and pulled back. A seam became visible in the center of his neck. It grew wider- slowly, at first, and then very quickly. The seam widened, and, by all appearances, Phineas removed the skin from his head. As he did, a new head appeared- covered in what might be red and bulging skin, but certainly not the musculature of a human face that one might find in an anatomy textbook, for there were no eyes, no nose, no hair, no mouth, and no ears. The hole that Sam made was still visible, and he could see now why it had had so little effect on Phineas- he had shot a muscle, yes, but still a relatively non-vital appendage, like a hand or foot on a human.

"Now do you see?" In spite of his lack of a mouth, Phineas spoke just as clearly and normally as he had done before, the disgusting appendage sticking out of his shirt collar jiggling as he did so. "I was sent here by my people about twenty years ago. There were actually many explorers sent, for the purpose of finding habitable planets to colonize- but only one flew in each ship, for many solar systems are located so far from mine that it would have been impossible to map out a safe trajectory. As far as I know, I was the only survivor- the others were mostly likely sucked in by stars and black holes."

Krystal and Sam listened intently; they were transfixed, frozen, and rooted to the ground. Here before them stood an alien- an actual alien, telling them his story, explaining how he had come to their planet. Each of them privately thought that this was impossible, but at the same time somehow doubted this thought- for his words carried a strange power, as though they could comprise nothing but absolute truth.

"I was given limited resources, since my people had expected its invasion forces to face limited opposition. Through the use of tiny, flying drones, I managed to spy on Mario Sanchez for a while-" here, he gestured towards the unconscious boy lying on the ground next to him- "but did nothing to stop the killings of the Jonas Brothers. After all, what could I have done, without drawing attention to myself? This persona I have build, this disguise I have adopted for myself, is crucial to my success here. However, when he kidnapped Miley Cyrus, I knew I had to do something drastic."

"We heard about that part," interrupted Krystal. Sam snapped his head around to look at her, shocked that she had dared to speak. "You needed her to send out a beacon to your people, once the mutagen was activated," she finished, ignoring Sam.

"Correct," said Phineas, sounding almost pleased- possibly because she had caught on so well. "This mutagen was supposed to be for me, so that I would have ample time to apply it to myself before using an advanced transmission device to send a signal to the nearest of my people's satellites. They receive so many billions of transmissions daily, you see, that they must screen out all but the most important. This is the purpose of the mutagen. It was given only to us invaders, and not to the general public. They have no way to produce the specific sound that signals the military, telling them it is time to launch an invasion."

"Unfortunately," he went on, his voice taking on a slightly bitter tone, "it turned out I was allergic to the mutagen. Try as I might, I could not make myself produce the necessary sound- for I was too congested- and so I was forced to wipe the mutagen from my system using nanobots."

"Deeply frustrated and ashamed by my failure, I resolved to try something else. Since a mutagen, by definition, causes a mutation anyway, it seemed plausible that I could use it on a different species than my own and still achieve the same results. However, this proved to be a far more difficult plan of action than I anticipated- after countless tests on animals and a few painstakingly-planned, covert ones on humans, I was still unable to engineer the necessary sound."

"However, I did uncover an important clue: humans offered far more promise than animals. They came very close to the sound I was looking for. Thus, I resolved to disguise myself as a human, and wear this disguise until I was fully prepared to signal the invasion, as I am now."

"With my superior technology, it was a simple matter for me to spy upon Phineas Rex Wellington. I chose him mainly because I had established my base of operations in a forest near the house where he lived at the time. After a few months of observation and careful planning, I killed him and took his skin, using my nanites. I seamlessly replaced him; I did his work, saw his family once in a while, spoke to his friends and colleagues… in short, I lived his life."

"Then, one day, I encountered a girl who offered me the very thing I'd been searching for since I'd arrived on the planet. I had long ago trained my ear to recognize the key sound, and- for whatever reason- her voice, after a heavy dose of reverb, equalization, and other types of digital modification, came very, very close. When I first listened to a recording of one of Miley Cyrus's songs, I knew my search was nearly over."

"All that was left was to apply the mutagen, it seemed. At one of her concerts, I secretly injected her with a capsule containing some if it, as I have done today. Thankfully, it did not have any visible effects- her voice just changed quite suddenly as she sang in the recording studio, with no explanation that was apparent to the staff there. I hastily activated the nanobots, which reversed the effects of the mutagen, causing her voice to return to normal. As I did so, I ran a quick scan to see what might have gone wrong. I learned that she was not yet old enough for the mutagen to work as I had hoped; instead, I would have to wait a few more years."

"I left the nanobots in her system, where they have remained undetected by anyone ever since. I have written almost all of her songs since then- the tunes, at least- by planting them in her and her father's mind during the vulnerable human state of sleep. These songs served as tests of her voice- they would have been equivalent to warm-up exercises for a bass singer on my home planet."

"Finally, a few weeks ago, I received an alert from the nanobots notifying me that she was nearly ready… and today, she is."

Krystal and Sam continued to stare at him, still totally dumbfounded. Whether this was not an extremely elaborate and outrageous hoax, it seemed, they were about to find out. He looked out the window- or, at least, he rotated his body to face the window. "This is the song," he said softly, with a trace of glee, "and she is approaching the note. I have set the capsule to release the moment she does. What I have set in motion here cannot be undone."

As Miley sang, she felt a funny tingling sensation in her arm. Ignoring it and resisting the urge to scratch, she plowed on with her song:

"… I hold on,/ hold on to everything in sight… /Hold on to all these things that keep me feelin' right…"

On the word "right," she held the note out. It was the highest note in the song, a high C. She definitely felt weird now- the tingling feeling escalated, and, to her horror, she found that she found that she could not end the note. There was a sudden change in her voice- subtle, but noticeable. She felt her body seize up; her voice seemed to be completely beyond her control. For a few seconds, the music continued. Then, realizing something was wrong, the crew backstage cut it off. The audience, thinking this was part of the song, began to cheer even louder. Miley became very, very afraid. Something was definitely wrong here. After eight more seconds, this strange voice that was not quite her own released its hold on her as suddenly as it had seized her.

The cheering began to cease amongst the first few rows of the audience, as they were able to see the terrified expression on Miley's face. Puzzled, they went quiet, as did the rows behind them. A ripple of silence went through the entire crowd as they collectively realized that something had gone wrong, though not one of them knew what.

Then, without warning, bright lights began to appear maybe thirty to fifty above the stage- two or three, at first, followed by more, until there were more than twenty. They looked like tiny stars, expanding into harmless supernovas- which forced the onlookers to shield their eyes- before disappearing. Suddenly, there was a scream- something had fallen into the crowd.

Those nearest saw it first, for everyone else was looking at the ground to avoid being blinded. It was a hideous monster, roughly humanoid, but with a large, oblong lump where its head should have been. Its skin was rough, red, and bumpy, and it had three long, writhing tentacles on each arm, where its fingers should have been. The people it had fallen on screamed suddenly as it did so; whether or not they survived, those around it did not know, for they could hardly hear- or, for that matter, think- over the sounds of their own screams.

There were sickening thudding, crunching sounds all around as similar creatures appeared everywhere else. Upon landing, each one would right itself before viciously attacking those closest to it by jumping on them and strangling them with those horrible tentacles. About twenty seconds after they had begun to fall, a security guard overcame the initial shock long enough to fire a few bullets at the closest creature's head-analogue.

All but the last shot missed, thanks to the uncontrollable shaking of the guard's hands. The last shot, however, struck the beast's head at a glancing angle. Enraged, it spun on the guard, and bounded towards him on its unnaturally large, rhinoceros-like feet. Terrified for his life, the guard had time to fire off one more shot- which missed- before the thing was upon him, furiously wrenching his head off.

The invasion of Earth had begun.

In the safety of Phineas's office, Sam and Krystal watched, horrified, at the carnage taking place outside. Miley Cyrus, who of course was just as terrified as everyone else, had retreated backstage. Behind them, Phineas was laughing, apparently no longer seeing any need to attack them, and therefore not caring that they had their backs turned.

"Now do you see?? Your race is doomed! As I am most likely the first explorer of my kind to discover a habitable planet, I will be hailed as a bringer of tremendous prosperity and growth! You know, I think I will let Miley live… after putting so much work into her, I am certainly hesitant to give up my most prized possession. Mario, as well, shall be spared… He ought to know what he could have prevented, had he had the chance!- and you two, who fought for him and against him, respectively, before joining forces to save him… yes, I can afford to keep a great many humans as pets, now that they will no longer be the dominant race on this planet…"

Krystal ignored him. She was watching the horror unfold in the crowd below her. Why is it so hard for them to just run? she wondered. She couldn't help being a little insensitive to the apocalyptic nightmare before her; she had long since trained her mind to become rational and unemotional under stress. I can run faster than any of those things, she decided. It was true; their large, clunky feet prevented them from reaching the sprinting speed of a fit human being; they were able to claim lives mainly because the area was so crowded, and people bumped into each other and tripped constantly in their attempts to run away. Why don't they have any weapons? Why didn't they use nanobots to move more quickly, like Phineas? Were they really this unprepared?" It was then that something else caught Krystal's eye.

Every time a new blinding flash of light appeared in the sky, the top of a tower- which she had not noticed until just now- would light up. Could this tower contain the advanced transmission device Phineas had spoken of? Why not keep it further from the warp point, where it would be safe during the initial confrontation?

With tourists dying by the hundreds below her, there was no time for Krystal to congratulate herself on her quick thinking in the middle of an alien invasion. Instead, she continued to frantically rack her brains for a plan- then, it came to her. The first and last steps were so painfully obvious she was amazed she had thought of neither of them sooner.

She turned to Sam. "We should run," she explained. They did.

As they ran, they heard Phineas chasing close behind them, panting heavily as he did. It was clear that despite his incredible strength and fighting ability, he, like the rest of his kind, was not particularly suited for running. Before long, Sam and Krystal were away from him, and slowed to a steadier pace that would take them where they both knew they needed to go.

"What about Mario?" asked Sam, once he had slowed down enough to speak. In answer, Krystal shook her head. Sam grunted in a way that indicated he understood. After the injuries he had sustained, Mario Sanchez had no hope of leaving Disneyland with them alive. For that matter, there was no hope for anyone in the theme park, save the two of them. Still, they knew it had to be done.

After what felt like an hour of running during the course of which they passed many monsters and tourists alike, but, thankfully, were significantly obstructed by neither, they arrived at the place they'd been searching for: an old wooden building, in an off-limits area, nearly completely walled in by fences and larger, more noticeable buildings. It was warehouse which they knew contained the hydrogen bomb. After they had entered and closed the door, they expertly but frantically searched the floor of the place, stifling sneezes as dust rose up from spots that must have been untouched for decades. They ignored the eerie spectacle of the old Disney character costumes with large heads, nestled on racks in the midst of slowly floating dust particles made visible by the light that shone through the windows, and simply continued to search the floor until Krystal heard Sam whisper "Found it!" She scrambled over to him as he lifted up a loose floorboard that had been hidden under a locked chest, unable to keep the former from creaking. She helped remove the ones around it until there was a hole that was not only large enough for them to fit through, but also a ladder leading down, which she immediately grabbed onto in order to avoid wasting precious time through a courteous but unnecessary game of "you first."

As the two of them climbed down, Sam mentally reprimanded himself for not thinking to bring a flashlight. Nevertheless, enough light shone in through the hole in the floor for them to see the massive bomb contained below it, its smooth metal surface reflecting enough light to make visible some of the many pillars supporting the floor above. This room was far larger and far darker than the warehouse itself- but as Sam set foot on the soft dirt floor, he knew exactly which direction to head. He turned left, in the direction that the "head" of the bomb was pointing, and made his way into the darkness as quickly as he dared. Krystal followed closely behind him, which was not difficult, as the sounds of his footsteps echoed loudly in the otherwise silent room.

Finally, they reached their goal: a small, train-like vehicle perched on magnetic rails leading into a deep tunnel. Now that their eyes had adjusted to the dim light, they were able to discern more of the room's details. However, all they cared about for the time being was this train, which would allow them to outdistance the alien invaders by a long shot, assuming they didn't start warping in vehicles or warping in soldiers somewhere miles away from Disneyland.

Once they were inside the train where it was virtually pitch-black, Sam felt his way to a lever, which, when pulled, caused every compartment to light up. Not wanting to waste any time waiting for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, he felt his way across the controls- which, thank God, he had memorized by heart during the course of his and Krystal's preparations. As he pushed, pulled, and twisted everything he needed to in order to set the train in motion, he was gladdened by the mechanical whirring sounds around him- for these, more than the lights, told him that the train was in working order. In short order, it was set in motion, and gradually accelerated to a thunderous speed as it rumbled through the tunnel, carrying Krystal and Sam to safety. As they approached the effective "safe zone-" for the tunnel was effectively protected from fallout, though not from the initial blast- Sam withdrew his cellphone, and found, to his surprise, that Dennis had not yet hung up. "Hello?" he shouted into the phone anxiously.

"Yes, hello? Sam?" answered Dennis immediately, to Sam's great relief.

"Yeah, it's me. My friend and I are nearly out," explained Sam rapidly. "We're on the magnetic rail right now-"

"-Yeah, yeah, I know…"

"…Yeah, so you need to set off the bomb as soon as-" Sam stopped, lowered the phone, and looked up at Krystal.

"What are you waiting for?!" she asked, almost hysterically. "Tell him he needs to set it off as soon as we're clear!"

Sam started at her for just a moment, considering her. Something had been nagging at him for a while now, but, naturally, it was a concern that had pushed aside by his and Krystal's desperate flight from an alien invasion. Now, however, seemed like an appropriate time for him to bring it up with her.

"Earlier," he said, ignoring the way she shook her head slowly in protest, a terrified expression on her face, "earlier you called in some fangirls to dismantle the bomb."

"You think I still fucking care about this stupid pop whore rivalry??" she fairly screamed. He saw that there were tears forming in her eyes. "I stopped caring WEEKS ago!! I-"

"No, that's not what I mean!" Sam interrupted her hastily. "They must be near Disneyland by now, right? Like, really near Disneyland?"

Krystal blushed, embarrassed about screaming at him now that she understood the misunderstanding that had just taken place. "Yeah," she muttered in reply, looking away from him. "They probably are."

"…so if the bomb goes off now, they'll be killed, won't they?"

Krystal nodded absently, still avoiding Sam's gaze. A green light on the dashboard turned on, and a calm, female, automated voice rang through the cabin: "Train is now outside effective blast radius. It is now safe to detonate. Thank you for your patience." After a few more seconds of thinking, Krystal turned to look directly at Sam once more.

"Tell them to set it off," she said clearly, in what sounded like a surprisingly calm tone. "If those aliens get a foothold, it's all over. We need to do this now, before they start warping in their vehicles, or their technology, or God knows what else. That bomb is our only hope, and it needs to be detonated now."

Sam nodded, understanding that she understood this time, and raised the phone- which Dennis Williams had, once more, frantically been shouting the word "hello" through over and over- and said simply, "Set it off now."

"Gotcha," replied Dennis.

While waiting for Sam to get back on the line, Dennis had made the final preparations to set off the bomb. The technicians were all on standby- everything was working smoothly and the bomb was ready to go off; all that was left was to press a single button. Several minutes earlier, it had been decided that the search for Mario Sanchez could safely be put off until after Disneyland had been blown up.

"We have final clearance," Dennis announced, dramatically lowering the phone and turning to the lead technician as he did so.

The lead technician, for his part, was ecstatic to be entrusted with the honor of actually pressing the final button. "This'll teach those Disney fuckers to churn out pop whores," he said viciously, grinning as he mashed down the button with his entire hand.

In almost instantaneous response, the live feed of Disneyland from various angles became basically the same image on every monitor: a mushroom cloud, billowing upward into the classic shape that every boy in the room had seen countless videos of- but never, of course, as a result of their own actions. An intoxicating rush of power filled each and every one of them; the air seemed to vanish from the room. The deed was done; Disneyland was destroyed. All their efforts, the sacrifices they had all made… all of it had been worth it, for their dream had come to fruition. All four Jonas brothers had been killed- save Frankie, whose whereabouts were unknown- though, hopefully, Mario Sanchez had killed him and hidden the body. As the fallout spread, they were all glad to be far from it- far from the explosion that had just killed a massive number of people. These were the casualties of war, of course; they had been told in the hunters' original warning video that Disneyland would be blown up- yet the theme park had not been closed; the people had continued to go there; and, inexplicably, there had not been a single investigation of the bomb threat. It was unfortunate, but necessary, that those innocent civilians should die.

"You know what this means?" asked one hunter, interrupting the collecting reverie of the others, who all turned to look at him. "It means we're not hunters anymore. That was the agreement. The moment the bomb goes off, none of us had anything to do with this organization, and never will again."

Another boy nodded. "That was the agreement…"

Muttering broke out for a few seconds before a tall, black-haired kid stood up, announcing, "Yeah, and it's my job to delete our records. I'm gonna go do that." With that, he left the room.

The others listened as his footsteps grew quieter, and then returned their respective gazes to the monitors. As the mushroom cloud dispersed, it lost its familiar shape, becoming messier and bearing slightly more resemblance to a normal cloud. They watched in silence, waiting for the wreckage to become visible through the haze, but it seemed as though it would be a while. They continued to wait, thoroughly satisfied with what they had done.

The work of the pop whore hunters was now finished.