Archive of Our Own ^beta

Creek Meta found himself, once again, in the backseat of his Uber, driving far away from the city he called home, Saint Unoriginal City Name. Quietly, he stared out the window, eyes shutting slowly. His exhaustion was setting in, hands clasped on his cheek as he began to sleep.

BAM!

He felt the road under him begin to shake, the driver in the front seat swerving to the side and cursing under his breath, sending the car hurtling into the curb. The driver turned to him, gritting his teeth, “They’re coming,” he said, shades still covering his eyes, but he could tell through his brows that it was serious. 

“Who’s coming?” Creek asked, a shudder creeping down his neck, hands made into fists, “Who? Who’s coming?”

“The Terrornana’s.”

A roar of thunder echoed overhead as the driver unlocked the door, “Get to Safe House Avenue. It’s where a safe house will be,” he said as Creek threw open the door, “Run. And be careful. They’ll make you one of them,” he gripped the wheel as Creek left the car, before he drove away as quickly as he could.

Creek, now on his own, searched his surroundings. Safe House Avenue. How convenient of a name. He didn’t know his way around this part of the city, so he took out his blackberry cell phone before realizing it was too old to do anything at all.

Another rumble came from the ground, and it appeared. A creature at least 20 feet tall with soulless eyes and peels spreading out to show their veiny insides. The Terrornana’s. The fated creatures of myth who stormed castles and murdered citizens, who were presumed hunted to extinction before the man of nightmares freed them from their fossil carvings. It must have been him.

And Creek knew whose fault it was.

“Mr. Meta,” a voice came from the Terrornana as the insides of the creature split open to reveal a man inside. His sharp facial features, dark brown hair reaching his shoulders, and those brown-parts-of-a-banana eyes were all too familiar to Creek.

“Cardboard. Long time no see. I see that you’ve embraced your trauma.”

“Well, my therapist told me that the best way to move on was to face my fears headfirst,” Oven Cardboard spoke, climbing down from his banana throne, “And I see you haven’t changed one bit. Although you looked better without the stubble,” his grin was wide and his glare was piercing.

Oven Cardboard had mysteriously disappeared 4 years ago, however now, he stood clearly alive and well, seemingly one with the fruit.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten our introductions out of the way, I will give you some time to prepare for the all-out war I will be starting on the human race in 48 hours. You can prepare the world’s governments for something beyond nuclear war, however you will fail. The Terrornana’s are angry, Creek, and I don’t think they can wait much longer to spread their potassium.”

With that, Oven vanished back into his Terrornana, and Creek watched, unable to move.

The human race was doomed.