Infovore

The sound of television programming hums the air. Neon blue light cascades on John's heavy face. His short unwashed brown hair matching his defeated brown eyes. He drinks the last of his beer, changing the channel once again.
    John turns on his phone, 2:30 am, he has work in the morning. He groans thinking about it. It's a shitty job that doesn't pay enough, flipping burgers at the understaffed Mac Ragers. He will lose his job the instant he isn't convenient. Peeling off the couch, kicking aside a few stray empty beer bottles.

    The closet door smashes open. John flinches, dropping the TV remote in his hand. He immediately grabs the nearest thing, a lamp, brandishing it. “Who's there?”
    Walking out of the dark closet Mark, his roommate, who's been missing for half a year. “Come with me if you want to live, John.”
    John's posture loosen's his brow unsure if it should raise or furrow. “Where have you been, why are you in my closet? How did you get in my closet?”
    Mark, his long black hair hasn't seen a haircut in a long time and he looks slim.
Last time John saw Mark, he was a rotund man. Yet, slight traces of muscle hide beneath his baggy clothes. “John there is no time, get in the closet.”
“What? I am not going into the closet, don't get any closer!”

    Mark raises his hands, putting on a disarming smile. “Hey, many strange things are going to happen. I need you to pull yourself together and don't panic.” his eyes darts to the side then back at John.
    John follows Mark's eyes, instead of a television a dog-sized pitch black creature sits on the stand. Its mouth hangs wide, displaying an astounding collection of irregular teeth. In it's mouth, the television program keeps playing. John screams, his grip on the lamp tightens till his knuckles go white.

    Mark forces his hand over John's mouth. “Shh, don't disturb it.” He whispers. “You can only take one thing with you then, get in the closet.”

--> Take the television

(Just kidding, take your phone instead, assuming this is the present day and you have a smartphone.)

Take the lamp.

take. the. television.

you gotta have your british bakeoff

>Take your trusty burger flipper

John's eyes fixate on the creature pretending to his television. Its body like a silhouette as if a black hole with teeth was lounging in his living room. “No man, we need to call the cops, the army, area 51.”

    Mark pulls John's gaze away from the creature. “Nothing they can do about it, the world's already fucked. That thing is going to notice us, hurry up.”
    John nods his head several times, “Okay okay, one thing.” John forces back several questions to focus, “My phone.”
    Mark chucks John's phone over his shoulder. “That won't do, nothing electronic, the lamp you are holding won't work either. Think of something you interact with a lot.”
    John's hands shake, his body weight shifts back and forth. “I don't know what you want from me, this is 2018, most of my stuff is electronic. Do you want my spatula?”
    “That'll do, where is it?”

    John almost forgot about the creature in his bafflement. “Seriously?!” The creature stirs, making high-pitched clicks and whirring like a Geiger counter. “The kitchen, it's in the kitchen!”
    “Well, go get it then! I have to stay here or the way out will close.” Mark waves his hands in a hurry.
    “How are you so calm?!”

   John hugs the wall of his apartment, staring at the creature on the TV stand. It has begun to twist its head as if it is looking for something. The television programming in its mouth changes, playing an advertisement for Mac Rager's.
    John slips into the Kitchen, he swallows his screams. On the counter top, a small digital clock says 2:32, Emitting from inside the mouth of another creature. Sitting where his microwave should be.
    Unable to keep his eyes off the creature. He notices the clock change to 2:33 when he remembers to move. John shuffles his feet to the kitchen sink. Inside, his stainless steel spatula soaks in soapy water. He has no idea why he needs this, yet he clutches the spatula.
    Simultaneously, the creature standing in for the microwave leaps off the counter.

Towards you? Slap it down with your trusty spatula

Run away screaming like a little girl

>Splash soapy water at creature.
>Is the microwave plugged in? If yes, unplug. If no, plug in. Hope it gets distracted.

>Back up slowly out f the kitchen and go to the closet.

eat it

Its movement, weightless. Every step it takes on its four legs sounds like crunching glass. Its growl clicks and whirs with growing intensity as it get's closer to John.
    John yells, yanking the spatula out of the sink, spilling dirty soap water, some of it gets on the creature. John's heart sinks as it watches the water fade into the creature, leaving nothing behind.

    The lights dim with lost color and the air goes frozen still. John takes in a deep breath of sub-zero air. He forces back his coughing fit as he backs away from the creature with no sudden movements. The creatures wail grows louder, John's instincts take over. He flees, hearing shattering glass give chase.
    John foot rolls over an empty beer bottle, crashing into his couch. He squeals as the Creature sitting on the television stand pounces. Mark grabs John's collar, pulling him out-of-the-way. The couch splits in two, like as if every part of it that the creature touches ceases to exist.

    Mark throws John into the Closet. He spills a can of kerosene outside, lighting a match, he throws it as he closes the door behind him.
    John can hear roaring fire consume his living room. The orange glow seeps through the seams. “Are you crazy, you lit my place on fire!”
    “Fire will slow those things down, plus we won't be coming back.” Mark pulls aside one of John's old jackets, revealing a runic circle on the wall. Surrounding it on all sides, strange shapes and lines drawn in blood.

    Mark chants something incomprehensible to John. Outside the sound of breaking glass mixes with clicks, whirs, and roaring flame.
    All the sounds stop. The glow of fire no longer illuminates the closet, leaving John in the dark. The door opens, moonlight hits his face. Mark steps outside first, then pulls John out of the closet. Outside, a wide open field. The ground tinted a dark blue. The sky, empty of stars with a single dark moon. Cradled by a monstrous gigantic luminescent larva where the moonlight is coming from.

    Mark turns around with a sheepish grin, “So I bet you have a ton of questions.”

>...I'm not going home for some time, am I.
>Also, I didn't know you were a wizard.

>I do, but I currently don't have all of them at hand.
>Question: Where are we?
>Question (1): What the frick is happening?
>Question (2): What are you?
>Question (3): What is that?
>Question (4): Why did you even bring me here? I don't suppose I'm that important or skilled.
>Question (5): What were those that appeared in my house?
>Question (6): Are they Digimon?

Are we in another dimension? Did those things come from another dimension? Was my TV one of them all along? And... What happened to the moon?

John takes a step, staring at the larva cradling the moon. He looks back, the closet has vanished. In his hands slimy with soap, a greasy spatula still has grilled cheese crumbs on it. The ground sinks with his footsteps, leaving deep imprints in the purple earth. The air stale with no plant-life or wind. The horizon curves at a sharp incline, with obsidian black mountains poking through.
    He falls to his knees, his mouth moves, but no words. John‘s last few minutes destroyed his worldview. His beliefs, his high school physics education, and his boring repetitive life. It was dull, it was stressful, yet you never had to hide in a closet from monsters.

    From the corner of his eye, Mark‘s hand offers him a granola bar. “You should eat.”
    “What the actual fuck, Mark.” He takes the granola bar.
    “I will start with the short version, aliens, from space or another dimension—I don‘t know—came to earth sometime in the 1700s. That was around the electric revolution, and these things they don’t eat like we do. They eat the things that make it, well it. Molecular bonds, heat, electrical impulses…
    “These things, if they eat you, they will shit pure absolute zero hydrogen, super messed up. Over time there won’t be a planet Earth anymore, just a hunk of hydrogen and those fuckers.”

    “Where am I?”
    “Not Earth—follow me, there is a camp. I have no idea what this place is. The thing you saw in the closet, I learned it from an old crazy guy that lives here. But, it’s totally possible to just show up. Most of those mysterious disappearances on the news can be found here. Including me.”

    “Why was that thing my TV?”
    “Ah, it ate your TV, and used camouflage bullshit to mimic it, to feed on broadcast waves and electricity, to incubate. Those things were babies by the way.”
    “No!”
    “It's true.”
    “… Fuck!”

    “Thank you for saving me, but why now?”
    Mark rubs the back of his neck, “Well, I wanted to save you sooner but… shit happens. You're my bro, for like ten years. I’ll always have your back, sooner or later.”

    “What is that on the moon?”
    “A bug, I guess? You'll get used to it. Look, you can see the camp.”

    Surrounded by a wire fence, five army tents, pitched in a semi-circle. The ground tilled with normal looking brown dirt. Mark and John approach the gate, behind it, a woman in a police uniform. Her short black hair covered by a green baseball hat, on her waist, a pistol rests in her holster. “Is he the new Scavenger?”
    John looks to Mark for answers. “Scavenger?”
    “It was the only way they’d agree to bring you.”
    “You didn't tell him?”
    “It was a messy extraction, two babies.”
    The woman clicks her tongue, removes the padlock and chain, ushering the two inside. “Alright, you're a Scavenger. Your job is to get what we need. You do your job and we will like you. Don't do your job, and you'll get kicked out to fend for yourself, got it?”

>Fine. Do you need anything right now?
>How did they invade Earth without being noticed?
>How did you know they got to Earth in the 1700s? Was that the first recorded instance of them being observed?
>Are they intelligent?
>Are you illuminati?

So does this mean I get to meet Hitler, the real Paul McCartney, and Elvis?

“What? But I haven't—Okay, I'm a Scavenger. What do you-” After locking the gate, the woman turns around, and leaves, “-need?”
    Mark pats John's back, “Don't worry, I'll explain the details later. Follow me and take the spatula with you.”
    John stares at the spatula in his hand, he risked his life to get it. It must be important, with vigor he marches to catch up with Mark.
The left most tent, the smell of chili permeates from within. Mark and John enter. Mark waves at an elderly man, who stirs a large pot over an open flame. “Sensei, I'm back.”

    The old man scowls with an Irish accent, “I told you not to call me that! I'm Conor O'Dwyer, Conor O'Dwyer!”
    Mark turns to face John. “That's Sensei, the guy who taught me magic. Give him the spatula.”
John offers Conor the Spatula, “Eh, A new spatula? Thanks! The old one's rusty.”
    John glares at Mark, his face filled with rage and betrayal. Mark as calm as ever, “Wait for it.”
    Conor grabs John's hand. John looks at a small corked clay bottle in his palm. Conor returns to cooking chili, “Wait till dinner, best to have something strong to wash the taste out. Next time get me some Cider or Whiskey.”

    “What is this?”
    "A tonic, it's what allows us to see monsters. Babies can be spotted without—if you know to look for them, but the older ones you'll need to drink this. Drink it fast, and don't taste it. It'll last a month so be sure to look out for what he asks for while scavenging."

    Mark returns to John carrying two bowls of Chili, with a hunk of bread floating on top. “Take a few bites first, it will make it go down easier.”
    “So I've been thinking,” John says between spoonfuls of Chili. “How do you know they arrived in the 1700's?”
    “Nazi's.”
    “What?”
    “They did weapons research about them, I read the report. They found evidence of the monster's exploits dating back to sometime in the 1700's.”
    “You can read German?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Since when?”
    “Since I took German in high school, you didn't know?”
    John takes another mouthful of chili.
    “Before you finish, you should take the tonic.”

    John fidgets with the small bottle, a group of 7 people, stand nearby. He uncorks the bottle, everyone except John, plugs their nose, and stops breathing. The smell violates John, he heaves, he tries to re-cork the bottle, Mark steals the cork. John grimaces at the thought of swallowing this stuff, in one go he throws the contents into his mouth. The texture oozes down his throat, leaving behind a slime trail. The taste causes John to convulse, he screams. Once the silence ends, Mark force feeds John chili, while the crowd disperses, except one.

    A short teenage boy, “Names Joey, I heard you're the new Scavenger?”
    He offers a sheet of paper, John takes it. The paper consists of supply requests: First aid, Booze, Wood, Construction Tools, Soap, Clean Water, Toiletries, Fresh wolf's blood.
    “Pick one, you'll be departing tomorrow.”

Show Content

SpoilerDiscussion Thread.

>Choose wood. Those are easy enough to get while avoiding electronic devices. Do you need raw wood or cut wood?
>What's fresh wolf's blood for?
>How did you get your hands on Nazi documents that were probably classified and hidden in some locked file cabinet?
>What are they called? Xenomorphs? Ergotrophs? Energovores? Aliens?
>Are they intelligent? As in capable of planning.
>Why is this place so empty though? Land too infertile for Earth plants?
>Did the Nazis create them or discover them? Were they viewed as a possible weapon or simply as a pest?
>How do these things reproduce?

--> Ask: What do the big ones look like? What are they capable of, and what should I do if I see one?

--> I second wood. Volunteer to get wood, and maybe wolf's blood if you're in a forest and a wolf happens to attack you. But in that case you would need protection, so ask if they can give you any weapons. And yeah what is the wolf's blood actually for?