"Hey Mom, it's Jonathan.

  It's been a while. I just wanted to let you know that I'm still okay. I've switched jobs a couple of times since we last talked — this most recent one was a really lucky find, but I can't tell you what I'm doing now. Classified. I'm going to have to break contact for a little while. Again, I'm not in trouble…"

  He was still workshopping the message on his newly returned phone.

  His feelings about his family were complicated. Would it be best to just not say goodbye, and let them live the last couple of weeks without worrying about it? He'd already been out of touch for so long — not for any particularly dramatic reason, just because sometimes people grow apart.

  Like many other messages to those he had grown distanced from, it was sent to drafts for now.

  Big Red was grunting, listening to the radio with the wreath on. Jonathan could vaguely hear what was being reported — aftermath of that building explosion they saw a few minutes earlier.

  After a bit of back and forth, in the first act of violence seen thus far, Fuji smashed the front console of the van, obliterating the radio. He angrily plucked the headset off and tossed it into the back.

  Jonathan failed to catch it, but it was pretty strong, so that wasn't an issue. He pulled it out of a shopping bag and placed it on his head.

  Because things had shifted around, there really wasn't much room for the other executive to sit down anymore. He was curious how he'd show up this time.

  "There's been a slight change of plans. Due to some unforeseen circumstances we've had to move up our extraction timeline."

  The tiny man was dressed like a World War II pilot, embedded in an image on the box for a quadcopter.

  Jonathan was flabbergasted. What was he talking about? Don't these guys have access to insane future-predicting technology? Why was he not taking this seriously?

  Jonathan let out a small laugh at the absurdity of it all. "What?"

  "Now-now, unfortunately this is not a joking matter. I need you to take this seriously" the little man who could have passed as Snoopy said — it's time for a rather important decision. A dropship is en route. We need to load it as fast as we can and get out. It's going to likely be a hot exit."

  A big red flashing arrow appeared in front of Jonathan. He followed it to the window.

  What he could only assume was the dropship in question began descending through the cloud cover. It was roughly shaped like a treble hook or boat anchor, almost entirely covered in some sort of mirrored coating — save a few panels that appeared to have been broken off here and there, exposing rust-colored metal underneath.

  The ship looked by all intents and purposes as if it was just being lowered via the world's largest fishing rod. No smoke, no rockets going off, and as they drove closer, very little sound. It fell fast, but just as Jonathan thought it would free-fall straight into the earth, it quickly slowed and stopped — landing in a playground parking lot.

  Doors swung open on all three of the protuberances on the ship. Honeycrisp came screeching to a halt right in front of it, got out, and started throwing boxes inside.

  "What?" Jonathan repeated, after dissociating for a bit.

  "I need you to either acknowledge this contract, or run very quickly away. Just a reminder though about your future prospects if you don't come with us…"

  A video with a blinking red "RE-ENACTMENT" showed up in Jonathan's peripheral. A basketball-sized Earth made of Styrofoam was getting thrown into a wood chipper, which just distracted Jonathan even more. Where did he even get that?

  The executive was back in his business suit. There was no real document, just a browser-like page open in front of Jonathan's eyes.

  "The time is now, I'm afraid — the Captain needs this back. I urge you to look at it this way: this is truly a win-win! We could really use someone like you, and you probably don't want to die in the next few weeks after experiencing advanced interrogation techniques in a government black site."

  "Shit."

  This is where the full realization finally hit him. Jonathan was in the back of a van driven by a space alien, who was currently loading snack cakes into a spaceship at a playground in broad daylight. He could already see people slowly gathering.

  Paranoia told him that if he ran, there was no way he wouldn't be scooped into an unmarked SUV. He knew he likely faced way worse than a few years of prison. Oh, and that whole planet-being-destroyed thing — but somehow that felt less terrifying.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Knowing what he knew about the government, whatever the aliens planned couldn't possibly be as bad as what awaited him here.

  He mentally scrolled through the document in search of the spot to sign. He scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled some more. Every so often, while glancing through the speeding text, he couldn't help but notice some worrying phrases that repeated quite a few times — things like "not responsible for…", "in the event of an untimely demise…", and "agrees to forfeit all…"

  "For what it's worth, this is as standard a contract as they come out there."

  The executive's reassurance failed to offer any comfort. Of all the things Jonathan wished weren't universal, contracts that read like EULAs had to be up there.

  Finally, after a somewhat significant amount of time given current circumstances, Jonathan took a deep breath, exhaled, and hit "I Agree."

  The window disappeared. A buzz in the back of his head was the only indicator that anything had changed.

  "Welcome aboard! Now get the headset back to the captain over there and start loading up. Make sure you build solid foundations and try to leave room in the center of each compartment — we have one more who will be joining us soon, and then we'll likely have to lift straight off."

  They frantically loaded everything they could.

  The crowd did what crowds do and got out their phones. Sirens in the distance, getting closer. Not too far off, a truck laid on its horn. Tires started screeching, followed by a very loud crash.

  Jonathan peered around the van to see what happened.

  A semi-truck was wrapped around something. Not something — someone. Another alien. This one slightly taller, very thin, with a wide protruding chin like an axe blade a duck bill. It was missing an arm, but that didn't even seem to slow it down as it tore itself free from the truck, throwing half of the engine at another car in its path.

  A path that led straight toward the ship.

  Jonathan froze.

  This creature was very different from Big Red. It was angry. Violent. It barked something at the captain, who responded in kind. The captain stood behind Jonathan and seemed to be explaining something. They barked back and forth, making clearly angry gestures.

  The newcomer looked Jonathan up and down and spat.

  Two squad cars pulled up for a total of three officers. They parked on the curb nearest the playground, got out of their vehicles — which they immediately jumped behind for cover — as they shouted empty cop phrases like "hands in the air" and "stand down" and "you're all under arrest."

  A malicious look crossed the face of the new alien, which read to Jonathan as "watch this."

  It turned its gaze toward the police, raising its remaining arm. It had a large silvery bangle-like contraption on its forearm which started to extend itself.

  The humans all knew a gun when they saw one.

  The next moment was a blur. The police opened fire, some hitting their mark — only serving to nick the already battered alien. The barrel of the alien's weapon started to glow a greenish yellow.

  Just as it was about to obliterate the police, someone yanked down on its arm — causing the shot to go low.

  Instead of being nearly-but-not-quite-instantly melted, the officers survived, though likely wishing they hadn't. Considering the great deal of injuries to their feet, faces, arms, and anywhere else the acid splashed, they all immediately fled.

  There was one person, however, who didn't have that opportunity.

  The violent alien scowled, looked down, and in one quick motion smashed poor Jonathan into the van — leaving several zones crumpled, both in the van and in Jonathan's body.

  But it wasn't done yet. The alien raised its weapon again.

  This would result in a supreme waste of expensive ammunition, but the alien was clearly still seeing red.

  Until that is, it started seeing black instead — as it was walloped in the back of the head with a hammer made from the concrete detritus attached to the bottom of an upturned stop sign.

  The Captain couldn't have known what he just set in motion. He couldn't have known the insane level of upgrades the tourist had, and that if he wasn't already beaten to near death, coming down from stimulant abuse, and consumed by rage, he would've easily stopped the blow. He likewise couldn't have known that the tourist was planning on killing him for his ship anyway, or whether or not poor Jonathan was alive or dead.

  He did know that he was doing what he believed to be the right thing, and that killing your fare would likely have terrible consequences if anyone found out.

  He quickly moved to extract Jonathan from the wreckage with large, shaking hands.

  "Ouch. He looks real bad. I'm seeing multiple fractures, impalement, numerous open wounds, definitely a real bad concussion at the very least — I'm not su—"

  "We have to try."

  Rex knew that Craig would not discuss this further.

  Craig quickly tore out a bunch of boxes and strapped Jonathan into the dropship. He knew he wasn't done unloading, and that he didn't have time to organize any better.

  "Grab the body. That guy had some serious stuff on him — we're obviously not getting our fare, so we need to recoup our losses somewhere."

  Craig took the lifeless form of Kurkuril and, as gently as he could, placed it right up against Jonathan — taking care that nothing was pressed into a wound, and that no limbs would be removed when the hatch closed. It wouldn't be comfortable, but they just didn't have the room.

  The dropship lifted off shortly afterward, leaving the Earth as quietly as it came.

  The events of that day served as the starting gun for a panicked flurry of activity.

  The following week had quite a few notable events:

  All major sports halls of fame were looted. A "streamer girl" reportedly turned down 13 proposals for marriage from visitors before accepting a 14th and leaving the planet. Numerous museums were raided with varying levels of success. The U.S. National Archives were destroyed in a firefight, the physical copy of the U.S. Constitution believed destroyed or stolen. The Stanley Cup was stolen, though that was done by a group of fans who believed "they were robbed in the championships." The world's allegedly top hitman was abducted, only to be assassinated prior to lift-off. A space vessel was captured by special forces who managed to "coerce" visitors into revealing how to use the dropship. A tech billionaire was abducted, triggering a viral doxxing spree against the ultra-rich. The Svalbard seed vault was successfully raided, despite several factions of visitors destroying each other in the contest.

  The French rioted.