Aliens Eunt Domus 2

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I have a new look. Wildflower approves. Venus probably wouldn’t, but I didn’t tell her. Fuck her. To quote a horrible movie, “Everybody betrayed me; I’m fed up with this world! Oh hi Mark.” That last sentence isn’t relevant, unless I count all the people I’m fooling as marks.

It’d be difficult for most people to connect “Psycho Gecko” with “Woman.” As hard as such a thought must be for all of y’all, dear readers, they’re completely unlikely to peg me as some Japanese Peruvian assistant to the ambassador of Isla Tropica. Quick bit of international knowledge, our version of Peru has had a lot of Japanese immigrants. Probably confuses the hell out of people who don’t understand much about South America. So, now I look Japanese and speak Spanish. You won’t believe how many American politicians want to put me in a camp.

With my translator program working for every language except Australian, I should be able to blend in. Especially after El Presidente forced the ambassador, Juanito Perez. All it took was a letter from El Presidente himself and the sycophantic former radio DJ welcomed me with open arms. Literally. Might have been the part where I look like a Japanese woman. “I am so happy El Presidente sent you to me!” he yelled while squeezing my ass. “We should talk over dinner. Do you exercise?”

If I’d thought of it, just namedropping El Presidente would have gotten my foot in the door. I’d forgotten about this guy. Caught his program a few times back in the day. Major ass-kisser, but the funny kind. El Presidente must not have shared my fondness for the program. I’m betting it was either getting sent to Empyreal City, or getting a special delivery from the secret police detail hidden in the back of Isla Pizza. Could have done without his hand on my ass. I dropped my hand in our little hug, seemingly getting my fingers right up between his cheeks. “I work very hard on my body, but the plastic surgeons did so much more. Mmm, nice ass. You like chicks with dicks?”

Juanito started coughing and backed off. “Sorry, I am not well right now. You should eat without me until I feel better. Please collect your credentials from the front desk. Welcome to the Isla Tropica United Nations Embassy.”

Aha! Credentials! All you need trespass legitimately. After that, I just had to sneak past metal detectors and patdowns to get into the UN compound itself. Easy enough for me. The extra patting had more to do with me smuggling in extra ass.

Even though I was in, I couldn’t just kill the teenaged tattooed alien ambassador from Beverly Hills. The D-Bomb isn’t ready yet, and they’d lock everything down tight if I gut him like a horny coed. Plus, I didn’t want to get up close and personal with his bodyguards without my armor. Nah, this time I snuck in for recon. Last time I’d been by, I was stopping a hero’s attempt to save the world using a love- and lust-inducing drug called Sexahol. Looking back, I’m jealous I didn’t think of doing something similar to this place. I imagine things were real awkward around here afterward, what with everyone “laying the foundation for peace in the Middle East” or however they wanted to phrase it. I think that phrase usually referred to them all jerking off before that day, anyway.

I wandered around, though it’s unfair to call it that. I strode with a purpose. That’s the secret to being somewhere you’re not supposed to be when people have to see you: act like you belong there. Just like one of the best ways to lie is to believe the lie, and the best way to cook a whole chicken involves shoving a lemon up its ass. But you better remember to use the oil. It gets pretty rough without the oil, but the same can be said of most dealings with other organisms.

Like this guard who tried to stop me heading out to the helipad where the alien shuttle parked. Since landing, construction crews had added to the wall that protected the landing pad from ground fire. There wasn’t much they could do to protect the entire thing in a city full of skyscrapers, though. Still, I wanted to get close enough to touch it, and that meant getting past a guard stationed in a building that combined a waiting area with a refueling station. “Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t let you through here,” said the ceremonially-dressed…something. Marine? Army? He had one of those bolt-action rifles they like to use for ceremonial duty, too.

I batted my eyes at him and told him in my new Spanish accent, “I can not squeeze through? If only I’d brought my oil.” I leaned in close to him. “It gets rough without the oil.”

If I’d been standing any closer, I’d probably have felt him stand at full attention, wink wink. As close as I was, I could popped out the fangs I’d added and maybe torn into his throat. Unfortunately, that’d ruin my cover and my dressy little suit. A Gecko’s got to keep any skirt I look good in, n’awmean? So instead, I whispered, “Meet me in the storage closet by the bathrooms in two, big boy?” I winked as I departed, heading down to the section where a storage closet door stood across from the pair of men’s and women’s bathrooms. I guess they didn’t expect to host too many aliens from the binary choice of bathrooms. Like those all-black bodyguards that look like they got water sloshing around in them. The thought of taking a leak might be offensive to fluid-based lifeforms. They might take paper towels and toilet paper as a threat. Not to mention the damn hand dryers.

The eager soldier marched smartly along right on schedule, driven by either duty to investigate or dick to wet. I heard him turning the lock on the door and then throw it open. That’s when I stepped out of the women’s room behind him and kicked him in. He fell face first into some shelves. I grabbed the door and swung it closed behind me as I jumped in on his back and went for the sleeper hold.

A few seconds later, I stepped out of the closet and quickly shut the door behind me, then set about straightening my blouse. “Whew, good thing he wasn’t gay…” I muttered to myself, then noticed a man in a suit exiting the bathroom. I raised an eyebrow and glared at him. He smiled to himself and headed toward the lobby. I had a helipad to inspect, and fast. Since I’d neglected to bring anything like cocaine or liquor with me, I couldn’t sprinkle that around to discredit the guy. I don’t just carry random drugs on me. Weapons, sure. Other people’s stolen wallets, definitely. But not drugs.

Just say no to drugs, kids. Then knife the dealer and steal his cash. What’s he going to do, call the cops on you?

And since I didn’t want to draw the kind of heat that a murder investigation can bring up when aliens suddenly show up, I had to look at it really, really quickly. I slipped into the bathroom long enough to pull what I’d swear to anyone who saw was a paperweight, but what was really one of the mobile projection disks just like I put on a belt for Moai. And just like I used to use for distractions before I started destroying all my stuff for like three years straight. So I threw together another of the disks just for this occasion, as well as a couple of bugs.

Suddenly, I looked like an older, dignified Chinese man. It’d be pretty hard for anyone watching the cameras to justify mistaking a woman of Japanese descent with a Chinese man, no matter how difficult they find it to tell Asians apart. Looking like that, I headed out to get a glimpse of the alien shuttle.

Whether the distortion was added in the broadcast or due to some device inside the ship, it no longer looked all fuzzy around the edges. Before, colors and lines sort of blended together, like how things look when someone is near-sighted. Now, I could see it looked like, how do I put it, a brick or an iron. Kind of a Twinkie shape, I just realized. Oblong, with a smooth, rounded top, perhaps the only concession to aerodynamics. It wasn’t all, smooth, though.There were portions sticking off the sides, like people just kept building a tiny portion out here and there. Its base looked as uniformly flat as an iron, which is what led me to my initial description of it, except for a tiny bit of it bulged out, like it had flattened something. It was examining that that led me to realize the base was more like some sort of goo or fluid that conformed to whatever surface it landed on.

I could work with that kind of exterior. I went around to one of the ends of the thing and dropped down, pulling out one of my little spies. Working on short notice, these things had some serious flaws. First, they used some old-fashioned radio to communicate. For what I needed and how small I needed it, that was the best I could do in a hurry. Of course, it might be better that way. Something more sophisticated, like interdimensional transmissions, might be more readily detected by an advanced species. Radio’s probably so obsolete to them as to be ignored.

Another problem was that I went with magnets to attach them. It might be absolutely useless with how they composed the ship, but I couldn’t drill them in or bring a hammer and start nailing them. Not unless my cover on being discovered was to basically recreate some sort of ET porn scenario. “Oh, hey there Mr. Alien. Me? I’m here to do some nailing.” Yeah, so that wasn’t happening.

When it came to data storage, I actually had to go more modern than I initially wanted. Believe it or not, tapes can store a shitload of data in a relatively compact form. You’d be surprised. But magnets were the problem there, especially with everything else they could be exposed to in space. Not that sending a tiny compact disk into space without the protection of atmosphere is any better, but it’ll have to do with what I put it in. Which is essentially a clear sleave of nanomaterials meant to regulate temperatures and blend in about as well as something clear can.

No wonder my first hiding spot involved shoving one into the landing goo. It took a bit of effort, but it slowly deformed around the tiny disk, accepted it, and then mostly filled back out. Next, I slipped a couple against one of those extra things on the outside. There was one portion where something stuck out to form three parallel extensions of about half a foot. That got one. Another looked like someone stuck a block lower down on one side as an afterthought. I stuck one on the underside of that. The last one, I tossed up on top of the ship, where it hopefully landed out of most people’s sight.

I had a couple more with me, but I wasn’t sure on taking the last gamble. See, the door was still open, if you could call it a door. It looked like a hole in the exterior of one side, meant for a short person. I didn’t realize that on the news, but then I couldn’t see the clear lines of the thing then. It was very tempting to run in there, spy around, and drop some more bugs.

But. Yeah, I like big Buts, and I cannot lie.

But, they’d left the door open. Which would make it absurdly easy to go in. And this is the middle of Empyreal City, around some of the least scrupulous people on earth. I mean the politicians, of course, but I wouldn’t put it past a carjacker to try either. And I have trouble believing that any spacefaring civilization would be so naive as to leave the door of their ride unlocked and open. Unless someone stuck their head in and got eaten by a pet Shoggoth or Mi-Go or some crap like that.

I’m a sexually active, mean, drinking asshole in the body of a woman. I’m staying away from the alien-equivalent of building an Elm Street at Camp Crystal Lake, solving an ancient puzzle box, saying “Candyman” five times in front of a mirror, then taking a nap after a tiring day of following a really tall old guy who steals bodies from the local cemetery.

Fate doesn’t like to be tempted. I should know. I’m usually the one who goes in and does Fate’s dirty work. So I got out of there that time and decided to see what Fate would feed my bugs, if anything, before I got my bomb up and working.

I took it as a good sign when Beetrice, the giant bee woman who lives in my basement, called me down to have a milkshake party with her and the rest of the hive, which was briefly interrupted when a number of young graffiti artists were chased off by security while trying to paint on the front of my building.

So at least our milkshakes brought all the boys to the yard.

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3 thoughts on “Aliens Eunt Domus 2

  1. Pingback: Aliens Eunt Domus 1 | World Domination in Retrospect

  2. thadpole

    Just wondering with Aliens landing why didn’t the news have like 24 hour coverage on the ship. Like constant streaming or why isnt there like a constant video stream of the craft somewhere. Like for example when royals get married in England there is constant paparazzi around the palaces. If we have that for a wedding of two useless individuals who quite litterally do nothing in life save for breed and wave at the general population when they are called out to. I’m fairly certain there would be paparazzi surrounding the UN and taking photos of the craft.

    Reply
  3. Pingback: Aliens Eunt Domus 3 | World Domination in Retrospect

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