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Sometime in July 1985
The Earth was louder than Haley expected. Everything buzzed – street lights, car engines, a boombox blaring on a street corner. People danced in the street with no discernible coordination. A group of teenagers zipped past them on roller skates, and Haley nearly leapt behind a trash can.
“I hate this,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Do they always move so fast? It’s... disorganized.”
“I think it’s fun,” Ozone said, smiling sheepishly. “Kinda like the Moon Markets. But with more...screaming.”
“I miss silence,” Haley narrowed her eyes at someone eating a burger sloppily. “And dignity.”
She pulled the collar of her shimmering silver coat higher around her face. Her posture was rigid as she stepped delicately around a spilled soda.
“Your Highness,” Ozone said, pointing to a hotdog stand. “That smells...weird. But maybe good?”
“I do not know what that is, and I refuse to ingest Earth meat,” she scoffed.
“You could ask what it’s made of.”
“I could,” she said, “But then I might have to speak to...him.” She nodded at a man in an apron, who was currently yelling about ketchup.
Ozone tried not to laugh. “You’re not gonna conquer Earth if you’re scared of hotdogs, Haley.”
She turned to glare at him, but he was already smiling at her the way he always did. Her shoulders softened.
“Fine,” she said, walking toward the cart. “If I perish, you’re last in line for the throne.”
“I’m not even in line,” he muttered, but he followed close behind.
The hotdog vendor gave them a long look as they approached. “You two in a sci-fi movie or somethin’?”
Haley hesitated, then gave a practiced, diplomatic smile. “We are not performers. We are...observers.”
The vendor blinked. “You want a dog or what?”
She stared blankly at the array of toppings. “I...suppose we’ll have one. The least poisonous, if possible.”
Ozone leaned over the cart, curious. “What’s that green stuff?”
“Relish.”
“Is it alive?”
“No?”
“Cool.”
They ended up with one hotdog, halved between the two of them, and sat on the curb outside a place blaring Madonna – not that either of them knew who that was. Haley held her piece between two fingertips like it might explode.
“I’m still not convinced this isn’t bait,” she muttered.
Ozone had already taken a bite. “It’s not bad,” he said with his mouth full. “Kinda like that ground-up pest jerky from the Solar Festival.”
Haley tilted her head, suspicious, then took the tiniest nibble. Her face didn’t change. “Hmm.”
“That’s it?” he asked, “Just ‘hmm’?”
“It’s...tolerable.”
“You’re a culinary diplomat now.”
She chewed slowly, eyes scanning the chaos around them. The earthlings, with their noise and sticky children. The music thumping. The sign that read SHOWBIZ PIZZA PLACE in bold, clownish letters.
Then, a drumbeat started, up beat and oddly hypnotic, echoing from inside the building. She saw lights flicker through the window
“Hey folks, we’re back for another show! Mitzi’s got a song about intergalactic love,” a deep voice boomed.
Haley dropped the rest of her hotdog.
“What was that?” she said, rising to her feet.
Drawn by the noise, they wandered into the pizzeria, looping around kids running around and parents trying to catch up to them. Inside, on a brightly lit stage stood a gang of animals, but one in particular stood out. A bouncy blonde mouse in a cheer uniform, waving pom poms around.
She danced with wide-eyed enthusiasm, singing lyrics about love and – Haley noted with deep alarm – interplanetary romance.
“That’s no mere singer,” Haley breathed. “That’s propaganda.”
“She’s neat,” Ozone said, grinning.
“She’s dangerous,” Haley snapped. “Look at the children! They're entranced!”
Mitzi turned her head and her eyes locked directly onto Haley.
“You with the cool helmet! Come join the fun! You don’t want to miss it – it’s only just begun!”
Haley stepped back, almost tripping over a child.
“She knows,” she whispered.
Ozone looked back and forth between the mouse and the princess. “Haley...are you afraid of an earth rodent?”
“I am not afraid,” she hissed. “I am...assessing threats.”
“You’re blushing.”
“Because I’m preparing for battle.”
Ozone chuckled. “Alright, warrior queen. What’s the plan?”
She stared at Mitzi. A moment passed. Haley stepped forward and adjusted her coat, her voice low and regal.
“I shall infiltrate this institution,” she declared. “And discover the source of her power.”
“…Infiltrate a kids’ pizza place?”
“Exactly.”
He shrugged and offered her his hand. “Shall we?”
Haley took it – reluctantly, but not without a slight smile. “If I’m to face this foe, I’ll need backup. You’re my second.”
“I thought I wasn’t in line for the throne.”
“You’re not,” she said, “You are my sidekick.”
Ozone shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
//
Showroom lights dimming signaled another show. “Coming up next,” an announcer’s voice said, “Is The Rock-afire Explosion with a medley of moon tunes and martian melodies!”
Haley froze. “Did he say Martian ?”
Ozone tilted his head. “That’s...suspiciously on-brand.”
“And a slur ,” Haley scoffed.
The curtain parted. She got a better look at the band this time. A gorilla on keyboard, a bear playing guitar on a surfboard, that mouse , and a dog on drums - decked out in a glittery silver space suit.
Haley narrowed her eyes. “He’s mocking us.”
“Or he’s just...part of the entertainment?”
“Exactly. Entertainment is the oldest form of mass control,” she muttered, scribbling in a small notepad. “Note: Subversive messaging through performative rodents. Investigate influence radius.”
“Can we at least play a game before you dismantle the regime?” Ozone asked, pointing to an arcade cabinet.
Haley sighed. “You have two minutes,” She sat in a booth but was alarmed by Mitzi mentioning Ozone – something about ripping through him. They knew they were there. Then her gaze caught something – behind the stage, half-hidden by a tree prop, a wooden door. She squinted. She swore she could see blue lights from the crack beneath it. Her blood chilled.
“Ozone,” she called, “Change of plan.”
He looked up from inserting a token. “Already?”
“We’re not just dealing with propaganda. This is a covert operation. That door – it’s a portal.”
He blinked. “A what?”
Haley’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Why would a pizza place have a door shining blue light out of it? This is a concealed alien operation.”
Ozone stared at the band. “You’re saying they...work for an alien agency?”
“Or are one,” Haley said grimly. “We have to get through that door. Tonight.”
“Let’s give Dook a round of applause!” the gorilla said, as a spotlight shined on the dog.
Haley turned back to Ozone.
“We break in after closing.”
Ozone raised a brow. “Are you sure about this?”
She stared back at the band as the curtains closed.
“I was born ready,” she said, “And if they think they can brainwash a planet with incandescents and catchy jingles, they’ve sorely underestimated me.”
//
10 P.M.
The pizza place was quiet for the first time all day. The sign buzzed faintly, casting a sickly glow over the parking lot. Haley crouched behind a dumpster, frowning at her reflection in a puddle.
“This is undignified,” she muttered, adjusting her helmet.
“You say that every ten minutes,” Ozone muttered beside her. “But you’re the one who insisted we wait until the janitor left.”
“I wasn’t going to get caught by someone named Frankie carrying a mop and a six pack of Mountain Dew.” She squinted at the back door. “Is it unlocked?”
Ozone checked again. “Still propped open. Guess Frankie’s lazy.”
“No. Frankie’s in on it,” Haley said with absolute certainty. “That mop was a surveillance device.”
“Or just...a mop.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your lack of paranoia is honestly alarming.”
They slipped inside.
The corridors of Showbiz were ill lit. Faded posters from the late 60s peeled from the walls. Somewhere, a ventilation fan hummed a low, ominous drone.
“Left,” Haley commanded, checking her notepad. “Stage is that way.”
“You mapped this place from the seating chart and three bathroom visits?”
“I’m not some amateur, Ozone.”
He grinned. “You’re terrifying.”
They reached the stage area and crouched behind the curtains, stage empty. Haley slipped around it toward the mysterious door behind the fake tree. It wasn’t locked.
“Ozone,” she hissed, “Get over here.”
He followed behind her as she pointed at the now color changing lights leaking from underneath the door.
“See?” Haley whispered. “No pizza place has this.”
He whistled under his breath. “Okay, that’s...fair.”
Haley grasped the doorknob like she was diffusing a bomb.
“Brace yourself,” she whispered. “We could be walking into a dimensional hub. Or a universe control nexus. Or –”
She pushed it open.
Inside, blue and purple lights danced from lights hastily strung up. A lava lamp glowed in the corner. There was a couch with stuffing coming out of the arms, a minifridge covered in bumper stickers, and a record player spinning something jazzy and weird.
And sitting around the room were The Rock-afire Explosion. Not aliens.
The dog in the glittery suit – Dook – was lounging upside down on the couch, flipping through a copy of Rolling Stone. The bear, Beach Bear, tuned his guitar in the corner while sipping from a can labeled Coca Cola. Mitzi, the mouse, was painting her nails neon green at a tiny vanity, humming softly.
No one even looked up when the door creaked open.
“…Is this the mind control hub?” Ozone said.
Haley stood frozen in the doorway, expression stuck somewhere between betrayal and nausea.
Beach Bear looked up from his guitar. “Oh, hey,” he said, “You guys fans or something? We’re closed.”
Mitzi turned. “Hey! You’re the one with the cool helmet,” She smiled brightly. “What’s up?”
Haley blinked. “You…you invited me onstage.”
“Yeah,” Mitzi said, still smiling. “We’re encouraged to interact. Helps the kids feel included.”
“But – You knew his name!” Haley said, pointing to Ozone
Mitzi tilted her head. “I didn’t?”
Haley’s voice dropped. “You said something about ripping through the Ozone.”
Mitzi nodded slowly. “Because…that’s the chorus of the song?”
Haley’s eyes narrowed. “But the blue light – The door. The propaganda!”
“That’s just the LED strip Randy installed last month,” Dook said, still upside down. “We thought it looked cool.”
“Also, this is our break room,” Billy Bob added. “Please don’t touch the lava lamp. It’s hot.”
Haley’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked at Ozone, wide eyed. “This doesn’t make sense. There has to be something. Secret messages. Hypnotic chords. Subliminal rodent programming.”
The band all stared at her.
Ozone coughed into his fist. “Haley...”
She whipped around. “Don’t.”
He grinned, slow and smug. “So what I’m hearing is…you broke into a pizza parlor…stalked a band…and dragged me along with you…because you were scared of a break room with LEDs?”
“I was not scared ,” she snapped.
“You said you were preparing for battle.”
“I was,” she said, “Against falsehoods and manipulation!”
“There’s literally a snack bowl in here,” he said, pointing at a dish of sour patch kids.
“Deception comes in many forms,” she muttered, folding her arms tightly.
Mitzi gave a little wave with her still wet hand. “You’re welcome to hang out, if you’re not here to like, arrest us or something?”
“We’re good,” Ozone said, clearly enjoying himself. “But thanks. The vibe’s immaculate.”
Haley muttered something unintelligible.
Ozone leaned closer. “Say that again?”
“I said I might have misjudged the threat level,” she grumbled.
He grinned wider. “That sounded dangerously close to an admission of error.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late.”
She sighed and glanced around the room again. “I still don’t trust the dog.”
Dook raised a paw. “Rude.”
“Come on,” Ozone said, gently tugging her sleeve. “Let’s go before you accuse the soda machine of…something.”
Haley let him lead her out, but not before shooting one last glare at Mitzi, who threw her a playful wave.
“Definitely a psy-op agent,” Haley muttered as the door shut behind them.
Ozone chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Or maybe she just knows how to put on a show.”
“Same thing,” Haley said. “Entertainment is war by other means.”
He nodded solemnly. “Sure, Commander.”
Outside, the night air was cool and mercifully quiet.
“I hate this planet,” Haley mumbled.
“You say that every ten minutes,” Ozone replied, nudging her with his elbow. “Admit it. You kind of loved that hotdog.”
She paused. “It was tolerable.”
“And Mitzi’s voice?” he teased.
She glared at him. “Autotuned garbage.”
“So...” Ozone said, “next mission?”
“I heard rumors about a man named Chuck E. ” she said gravely, “He controls a franchise .”
Ozone sighed. “Here we go.”