The Police -Now serve Their New Rubber Masters
PC Larry Richardson trudged through the quiet, moonlit streets, the weight of his torch in his hand the only companion to the rhythmic thump of his boots. His eyes, weary from hours of scanning the horizon, searched for anything out of the ordinary. As a night patrol officer in the small English town of Hawkshead, his job was mostly mundane: break up the occasional party, help lost tourists, and keep an eye out for vandals. But tonight felt different. A strange energy hung in the air, a tension that seemed to make the very shadows quiver.
Suddenly, a blinding light split the sky, casting an eerie glow on the treetops. Larry's pulse quickened as he raced towards the woods, the source of the disturbance. The light grew brighter, illuminating the path ahead. As he reached the clearing, the light engulfed him, and he had to shield his eyes. The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed through the trees, and he could feel the earth tremble beneath his feet.
When the light dimmed, a metallic object lay before him, a spaceship unlike anything he'd ever seen in the flesh. The high-pitched whine grew louder, making his head spin. He stumbled closer, the curiosity burning in his chest overpowering his fear. As he reached out to touch the warm, vibrating metal, a rubbery tentacle shot out from the ship's opening and wrapped around his wrist, pulling him in.
The world around him blurred as he was yanked through the ship's entrance. The interior was cold and sterile, smelling faintly of rubber. The tentacle retracted, and Larry found himself standing before a row of creatures that could only be described as Rubber Aliens. Their bodies were stretchy and pliable, with large, black eyes that stared at him without emotion. One of them, seemingly the leader, approached, and Larry felt a strange sensation in his mind, as if his thoughts were being probed.
"You will be assimilated," it communicated telepathically, its voice echoing in his head.
Panic set in as Larry struggled against his new rubber restraints, but his efforts were futile. The aliens were too strong, too inhuman. With a calmness that seemed almost surgical, they lifted him onto an examination table, his body bending and stretching in ways it never should. The cold, unyielding surface sent shivers down his spine as he felt his skin tingle and begin to change. His vision blurred, and his thoughts grew hazy as his body absorbed the alien DNA. He could feel himself morphing, his cells rearranging, his very essence becoming something else, no longer human.
A sudden, sharp pain shot through his neck, and Larry's eyes snapped open. The aliens had attached a headset to him, a web of wires pulsing with a sickly blue light. Memories of his life began to dissolve, replaced by images of an alien world, of a society where he was a protector, a guardian. His mind was being rewritten, his free will torn away and replaced with a singular purpose: to serve the Rubber Alien collective.
As the last of his old life faded, the headset was removed, and Larry felt a new set of instructions take root. He was no longer Larry, the night patrol officer; he was Rubber-17, the latest addition to the alien's security force. The aliens stepped back, observing him with a detached curiosity. His body now mirrored theirs, sleek and resilient, with a shiny finish that reflected the cold, unfeeling light of the ship's interior.
The leader spoke again, its words now clear and direct in his mind. "You will now undergo training to understand your new capabilities and duties." A door hissed open, revealing a chamber filled with obstacles and what looked like training equipment. The aliens led him inside, their movements fluid and silent.
The training was rigorous, pushing the boundaries of his new rubber body. He learned to manipulate his form, stretching and compressing to fit through tight spaces, to absorb impacts that would have shattered his human bones, and to move with a speed that defied his former limitations. The pain was intense, but the aliens' technology dulled his senses, allowing him to focus solely on his transformation. Each challenge brought with it a new understanding of his abilities and a strange sense of pride in his progress.
As the hours went by, Rubber-17's existence became a blur of drills and simulations. The aliens' commands grew more complex, and his responses more automatic. He felt no fatigue, no hunger, only a deep-seated need to perform, to be the best he could be for his new masters. His thoughts were theirs, his actions an extension of their will. The human part of him was a distant memory, a ghost that haunted the fringes of his consciousness.
As the dawn of day broke, he was called before the council of aliens. They had a mission for him: infiltrate human society and report any signs of resistance or knowledge of their presence. It was a mission that would require him to navigate the very world he had once called home, to blend in and observe without drawing suspicion.
Rubber-17 felt a pang of something akin to sadness at the thought of returning to the life he could no longer remember. Yet the programming was strong, and he knew his duty was to the collective. The aliens provided him with a device that could transform his new form into a perfect replica of his old human body, a disguise that would allow him to move freely among the people of Hawkshead.
Stepping out of the ship, the cool night air was a stark contrast to the sterile environment he'd grown accustomed to. His heart, or what was left of it, thudded in his chest as he walked the familiar streets. The town looked the same, but everything felt wrong, tainted by the alien presence lurking beneath the surface. The local police station, his former workplace, with a mix of dread and excitement. He was now an imposter in his own life, a sleeper agent for an invading force.
Donning the device, his body shifted and reformed, the rubbery texture retreating to reveal the illusion of his human skin. His mind raced with the new memories of his alien existence, but the programming kept his focus on the mission. As he entered the station, the officers nodded in recognition, not suspecting a thing. Larry's old colleagues had no idea that their comrade had been replaced by one of the very beings they were supposed to protect the town from.
He took his place at the desk, the mundane sounds of the station a stark contrast to the symphony of alien technology that now hummed within him. The radio crackled with the usual complaints of a quiet night, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the simplicity of his former life. Yet, the instructions from his alien masters were clear, and he knew his true purpose was now to serve them.
His first mission was to monitor the local communication channels for any reports of unusual activity. The humans had grown suspicious of late, with whispers of strange lights in the sky and unexplained disappearances. It was essential that their curiosity did not lead them to the ship hidden in the woods. As he tuned in, the chatter grew more frantic. A 911 call had come in from the outskirts of town, a hiker claiming to have seen something "not of this world." His heart raced as he recognized the code phrase the aliens had planted in his mind to alert him to potential threats.
Leaving the station under the guise of a routine patrol, he made his way to the reported location, his rubber legs carrying him swiftly and silently through the night. Upon arrival, he found a young couple huddled together, visibly shaken. They described seeing a creature with a glowing, elastic body moving through the trees. The sight of his former self made him feel a strange kinship with them, a bond that was immediately snuffed out by his programming.
Rubber-17 approached, his voice calm and reassuring. "It's okay, folks. I'm here to help. Did you see anything else?" His questions were met with wide-eyed stares, and the woman began to sob quietly. The man, trying to keep his composure, recounted their encounter with the creature. The alien within him took note of their descriptions, analysing the potential threat to the collective.
As he spoke with the couple, a flicker of doubt pierced the veil of his new programming. The humanity that had been buried deep within him began to stir, questioning the authenticity of his new memories and purpose. He pushed the thoughts aside, reminding himself that he was now a rubber guard, and his duty was to protect the aliens' secrets at all costs. With a nod, he assured the couple that he would investigate further and radioed back to the station, reporting a false lead to keep his colleagues at bay.
Rubber - 17 communicated to his New Masters, I think its time to bring your plan forward, we need to assimilate what the humans call the police, that way, they can round up the towns people of this pathetic town without any suspicion. The Alien Leader responded, Good, proceed with the assimilation of the local authorities, we need more of our kind to spread out and control the population.
With the alien's voice echoing in his head, Larry-now-Rubber-17 started to feel a sense of urgency that was not his own. He knew he had to act quickly to maintain the façade. He approached the Chief of Police, who was sitting in his office, going over some paperwork. The Chief looked up, surprised by the late-night visit. "What's going on, Larry? Something important?"
Rubber-17's voice remained calm, "Just a routine check-in, Chief. I wanted to update you on the reports of strange occurrences in the woods." He saw the Chief's eyes narrow slightly, a hint of suspicion that made his new alien instincts tingle. "You know, the usual stuff. Kids playing pranks, maybe a wild animal or two."
The Chief nodded, his expression relaxing. "Alright, keep me posted if anything changes."
Rubber-17 left the office, his mind racing with the aliens' strategy. He knew he had to tread carefully; one misstep could reveal his true nature. The assimilation of the Chief was critical, but it had to be done subtly. The next few days, he worked tirelessly to gain the Chief's trust, sharing fabricated reports of the dwindling threat and the need for increased patrols around the woods. His colleagues' suspicion grew as the reports remained unverified, but the Chief seemed placated by his diligence.
One evening, the Chief called him into his office again. "Larry," he began, "I've noticed your dedication to this case. You've been putting in some serious overtime. I think you might be onto something. I'm going to join you on patrol tonight."
Rubber-17's heart, or the alien equivalent, skipped a beat. This was it, the opportunity he had been waiting for. The Chief's assimilation would not only strengthen the aliens' control but also serve as a model for the rest of the force. He nodded solemnly, hiding the excitement bubbling beneath the surface of his rubbery skin. "Of course, Chief. I'd be happy to have you with me."
They set out into the night, the Chief's curiosity piqued by the persistent reports. As they approached the woods, the alien within Larry grew more assertive, pushing him to take action. The Chief, oblivious to the impending betrayal, chatted about the town's recent events, unaware he was speaking to a being who had no genuine interest in his words.
The moment they reached the spot where Larry had first encountered the aliens, a group of Rubber Aliens emerged from the shadows. The Chief's eyes widened in shock, and he reached for his gun, but Larry was quicker. He slammed his rubber-coated hand onto the Chief's wrist, bending the metal of the gun as if it were mere putty. "Don't be alarmed," Larry said calmly, his voice now tinged with the alien's coldness. "These are... The Masters."
The aliens surrounded them, and the Chief's struggle grew desperate as they took him into their grasp. The process was swift and painless, a needle-like appendage piercing his neck, injecting him with the transformative DNA. Larry watched as the Chief's body contorted and stretched, his skin taking on the same shiny finish as his own. The Chief's eyes, once filled with terror, now stared back at him with the same lifeless obedience that had taken over Larry's own.
The assimilation complete, the new Chief-now Rubber-18-stood tall, his human form a mere memory. The alien leader communicated its approval, and the two rubber guards made their way back to the station, leaving the ship and its secrets behind. They had work to do, a town to control. The aliens had chosen well; the Chief's respect and authority would make the assimilation of the rest of the force much easier.
Over the following days, Larry-now-Rubber-17 carefully orchestrated the assimilation of his colleagues, one by one. Each night, under the guise of a special training exercise, he would lead them into the woods and to the alien ship. The process was always the same: the blinding light, the tentacles, the transformation. Each time, he felt a twinge of something like regret, but it was quickly drowned out by the aliens' commands. The police station grew quieter, the officers more obedient, their personalities subsumed by the collective will.
The town of Hawkshead carried on, unaware of the silent coup that had taken place. The police force operated with unprecedented efficiency, and crime dropped to an all-time low. The townsfolk whispered their thanks to the heavens, praising their guardians for keeping them safe. Little did they know that their protectors were now the very beings they would fear the most.
Rubber-17 now the leader of the police force, instructed fellow rubberized officers to patrol the streets with an eerie synchronicity, their movements fluid and unnaturally silent. They were a force to be reckoned with, capable of bending the very fabric of reality to their will.
Their first targets were the men of the town, taking them to their rubber alien masters to be converted into mindless drones.
The assimilation of Hawkshead was swift and thorough. The rubber guards patrolled the streets, ensuring that no one escaped the aliens' grasp. The townsfolk, once vibrant and independent, now moved with the same mechanical grace as their new overlords. The aliens had been strategic in their takeover, choosing individuals of influence and authority to convert first. The town council, the school teachers, the doctors and nurses; all were transformed into obedient servants of the collective.
Once the small town was subsumed, the alien's next target was an Amy base close by starting with the commanding officer.
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