Mortimer buzzed the door to his aunts’ brownstone, a charming relic sandwiched between shimmering chrome towers. "Aunts Astra and Luna," he'd told his fiancée, "are the sweetest ladies in the Neo-Brooklyn sector. Positively timeless." He just hoped they wouldn't offer her their special elderberry wine.
Inside, the house smelled of lavender and ozone. Aunt Astra, with a twinkle in her eye, patted his cheek. "Mortimer, dear! So good of you to visit. We have a new guest resting in the window seat. A very tired gentleman from out of town."
Mortimer lifted the lid. Tucked inside was not a gentleman, but a creature with far too many limbs and a shimmering, purple carapace. "Auntie," he whispered, his voice trembling, "This looks like a Zorpian." Luna drifted in, holding a tray. "Oh, the poor dear was so lonely," she said dreamily. "Nothing a little elderberry wine couldn't fix."
The door suddenly burst open and a man in a frayed, silver jumpsuit stumbled in, clutching a flickering device. "Stop!" he yelled, his eyes wide with panic. "You don't understand! The disappearances... they start here! I'm Cole, from the future. A very bad future!"
Astra beamed at the newcomer. "Oh, another lonely soul! How wonderful. You must be exhausted from all that... time-traveling. Sit down, dear. Have a glass of wine." She began to pour from the special decanter.
"No!" Mortimer yelped, diving between them. "He can't! He's... allergic to berries!" Cole stared at him, then at the aunts. "They're the ones? These sweet old ladies cause the Great Zorpian War of 2242?"
Just then, the doorbell chimed a polite, three-toned melody. Luna opened it to reveal a tall, elegant creature that looked like a praying mantis made of green crystal. "Greetings," it chirped. "I am Ambassador Gleep. I believe you are expecting me for tea and... profound existential relief?"
Cole grabbed Mortimer's arm, his face pale. "That's him! That's Ambassador Gleep! His disappearance is the spark that ignites the whole thing! We have to save him!"
While Astra was distracted by the Ambassador's shimmering thorax, Mortimer and Cole engaged in a silent, frantic ballet. They swapped the poisoned decanter for one filled with blackcurrant juice, slid the window seat shut, and tried to look as casual as two men who weren't hiding an intergalactic incident.
Ambassador Gleep drank three glasses of the "wine" and declared it delightfully fruity. He left in high spirits, promising to tell all his friends about the two kindest ladies on Earth. As his transport hummed away, Cole flickered and vanished, leaving Mortimer alone with his aunts. "Such a nice, quiet afternoon," Luna sighed happily. Mortimer just nodded, and quietly locked the liquor cabinet.
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