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.:Barn Burning:.

Maxwell Peace and his son Darsh were on their way home from the park when they saw it. A fire-limned meteor streaking through the sky, straight for their property.

"Is it a shooting-star, Daddy?" Darsh asked, pressing a small hand to the window and leaving a green streak of paint on the glass.

"I don't think so, kiddo. But make a wish anyways." Frowning despite the lightness of his tone, Max stepped on the gas and sped up. They were just pulling onto the long, straight drive that led to the farmhouse when the meteor struck the barn. There was, well, not quite an explosion but certainly a calamitous noise as half the barn was sheared away and a rain of burning rubble and bits of pottery fell on the car. Max jerked to a stop while Darsh, getting over the initial shock of the hit, began to cry.

"Oh, god... Emma! Darsh, you stay here." Max ordered, jumping out of the car and running heedlessly toward the barn. "Emma!" His sister spent most of her time in that barn, it was where she worked. Though not a particularly prayerful man, Max found himself begging whatever higher power was up there that Emma was alive and unhurt. "Emma!" He cried again as he started to pick his way through the crater that had once been half a barn. The other half, somehow, was untouched.

"Max!" The answering call was interrupted by a fit of coughing. The dusty haze started to lift enough for Max to make out his sister's outline, whole and safe.

"Emma! You're alright!" He picked his way towards her as she stumbled towards him and they embraced somewhere in the middle of the wreckage. "What happened?"

"I was just rolling a joint and then it... something..." The brunette shook her head helplessly. "I thought maybe there was something wrong with my weed."

"We saw it coming. A meteor or something." He hugged his sister tightly and then surveyed the disaster area. "I don't know how it did that. Destroyed half the barn and left the other half in tact."

"It destroyed the half with my kiln." Emma said wryly. "I'm going to have to replace it. Which isn't such a big deal, but all the work I was firing!" She let out a big sigh. It was lucky that she didn't actually do the work out of necessity, both Max and Emma being trust fund babies. Rather, she did it because she enjoyed getting stoned and working with her hands. Creative expression.

"Daddy?" A tiny hand tugged at Max's shirt and he looked down. A paint-covered tear-streaked little face looked back up at him. "Daddy, s'that?" Darsh pointed towards the vehicle for this mess, nestled in the center of the crater. It was smooth and egg-shaped and had probably been white once, before it had come hurtling through the atmosphere to set their barn on fire.

"Huh..." Emma said, picking her way towards it. Max hefted Darsh into his arms and followed. "Theres a... door?" She was poking at the thing curiously. "See? Here. A seam."

"I don't think you should mess with that." Max replied, his brow furrowed. But it was too late. It always seemed to be too late. With a hissing sound of release, the door slid open and a white dry-ice fog drifted from the container. Emma was leaning over, sticking her head inside. "Emma, I really don't think you should do that."

"Max!" She ignored him completely. "Oh, Max, look what I found!" Reaching into the pod she withdrew a slate-blue lump with a shock of pink on it's head. The lump stirred and an eye opened in it's face. "Isn't he precious?"

Max opened his mouth to respond when the world seemed to shift. His brain itched and his scalp tingled. And then the sensation was gone as if it had never been at all. The one-eyed pink-haired baby frowned in what could only be the deepest of displeasure. Then it opened it's mouth and let out an ear-shattering wail.

"Well, kiddo." He said to Darsh, who was making a face and covering his ears. "It looks like you've got a brother. Or something."

.:Acquisition:.

Warren Peace gurgled in contentment, blinking his single eye swiftly several times. The blankets in his crib were pulled back and he surveyed the treasure that hid beneath them. Sure, the variety of shinies made his bed a bit lumpy, but Warren was a lot like a dragon. He wanted to sleep on his wealth, to feel it's lumpy comfort and know that he had posessions. The infant's sleepy mind didn't really know all of the whys behind his materialistic tendencies. In truth, he didn't really care. He was greedy. It was simple.

"War-ren!" Sang out Em's familiar voice. The baby hastily covered up his treasures with the blanket once more and assumed a stupid-sleepy expression that hid his avarice. The woman came into the room and beamed down at the infant, lifting him up and bouncing him a little.

Warren did not like being picked up without invitation. If someone was going to lift him up it should be because he wanted them to, not because he was small and squishy and easily moved around by people bigger than him. The faint thought that his body was awkward and sucky flitted through his head and he let out a yowl of frustration.

"Now don't be such a spoilsport, Warren." Em chided. She never really meant it when she chided, though. Em rarely meant anything that she said, she was too stoned most of the time to even realize that you were supposed to follow up on your words. On the one hand, it was annoying. On the other hand, she was incredibly easy to manipulate.

"Meh!" Warren exclaimed, squirming in her arms. He wanted down. Not in the crib but on the floor where he could get to things. His mind pushed against that of his guardian weakly and he let out another frustrated cry. Luckily, even his weak efforts were enough to penetrate through the minds of most people on this wretched planet and Emma obediently set him on the floor with a smile.

"There now, sweetie!" She said. "You play around for a bit, yes? Mama is going to go and get you some lunch."

Warren was not hungry, but he was glad to see her go. The minute she was out of the room he was crawling across it in record speed towards the loose spot in the floor. Even his clumsy hands could lift up the loose board and he did, peering down to make sure everything was there. This was a different stash than the one in his crib. He wasn't entirely sure why he was compelled to collect the various electronic gadgets but collect them he did. Peering down he made sure everything was still there. Good. The image of a metal cat flickered through his mind and Warren shook it off irritably. Some of these memories came from nowhere and seemed to serve no purpose. The Peaces had lots of real cats, after all.

With a little huff of impatience, Warren began crawling towards the door. If he could make it down the stairs before Em came back with food he might be able to aquire some more shinies.

.:A new arrival:.

It was a lovely day for a family picnic. It was sunshiney and hot and Emmaline and Maxwell Peace had decided to take their two adopted sons out into the field behind what was left of the barn for sandwiches and some good ol' family time. The road to hell, as they say, is paved with the very best of intentions.

Warren did not want to leave the house. The cyclops baby screamed his fury and beat his impotent little fists on Emma's shoulder as she carried him down the stairs. His reluctance could probably be attributed to the fact that if they'd all gone out and left him alone, the troublesome tot could easily have escaped his crib and managed to find the AA batteries he'd been wanting. But, to no avail.

"We can play with the kittens, baby!" Emma said brightly, effectively shutting Warren up. Oddly, the cyclopic ex-interplanetary-criminal was fascinated with cats. He loved them.

Darsh, the older of the two boys, did not want to go because he would be there. The he in question being Warren, Darsh's unwanted and uninvited baby brother. It wouldn't have been so bad if both boys weren't blue-skinned. But Darsh took it as a personal insult that the stupid squalling infant was stealing all his attention AND had copied his coloring as well.

"We can fish in the pond, buddy!" Max cajoled the older of the two boys, his tone wheedling. Darsh crossed his arms, a stormy look crossing his face. For a moment, the sun's brightness seemed to wane. "We can... uh.. I made croissants!" Max finally settled on. If the roll-and-bake pillsbury kind even really counted. But Darsh, with his greediness for rich food, decided to bury the more or less one-sided hatchet between him and his brother for the time being. Darsh, consequently, was more of a dog person.

The blanket was big and checkered red-and-green, some ancient christmas throwback. The cooler was full of faux-bologna and vegetable sandwiches, rolls, cookies, corn and any number of deliciousness. Darsh dove into the food immediately while Warren seemed more interested in scooting on hands and knees through the grass, hunting the new litter of kittens.

"They've been acting kind of strange." Emma noted, chewing on a carrot.

"Strange? Who?" Max dipped his own carrot in hummus and took a satisfying bite.

"The cats. Not all of them, just some of them. They're silly."

"Cats are supposed to be silly, Emma. They're cats."

"No, I mean the other day I found a bunch of them sort of.. congregated in the barn. They were all lined up and staring at the ceiling."

Max rolled his eyes. "You have to stop smoking so much weed." He informed his sister with a tolerant smile. "You're starting to see things. Cats don't ---" Whatever he was going to say, it was cut off by the sight of an aged old man in a trenchcoat sprinting through their field. "What the hell?"

"What? Who is that?" Emma squinted at the man. "We don't know him, do we?"

"No, we don't." Max said suspiciously as, behind him, the half of the barn that hadn't exploded when Warren's pod had landed burst into flame.

"Oh my god!" Emma screamed.

"Oh my god!" Darsh repeated after her, his golden eyes round with an odd mixture of fear and apprehension. Only bad things happened when barns caught on fire. Burning barns meant more brothers, and that was never a good thing as far as he was concerned.

Warren just stared. His mind was shouting frustrated curses in his native alien tongue, but his infantile mouth couldn't actually say them and his limited telepathy was not reaching anyone at the moment. So, for all intents and purposes, Warren just stared.

Luckily, the fire wasn't a big one. Max and Emma had both sprinted to the barn where a small bonfire seemed to blaze. Oddly enough, it was blazing right where Emma had seen the cats gathering to stare at the ceiling. She found herself pausing to look upwards, but there was nothing there. The woman shivered and helped Max stamp out the flames.

"What the hell?" She muttered at her brother, who shook his head helplessly and looked back at her.

"heck-heck" came a tiny coughing noise from behind the kiln. Max and Emma exchanged a single look that spoke volumes, but is was Darsh who dashed between them towards the sound of the coughing first.

"Noooo!" The older blue boy shouted, stomping his foot. The sun was decidedly hidden behind clouds now.

Max stepped forward to see what Darsh had found. "Oh." He said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

Emma joined him. "Oh." She repeated, also quietly.

The squirming little bundle looked up at them all with big eyes and raised it's paws towards them. "Can has fud?" It asked with a pointy little grin.