Not A P.E.I.P

Chapter 1: Sally

Sally was a perfectly average girl. Sure, she was a little nerdy, and a little too sensitive, but over all, she was average as they get. This fact was only proven by the situation she was in at the moment.

"Who the hell do you think I am!? Let me out of here!!"
Shouted the man with the pink glasses, banging on the door. His shouts were followed by the shouts of a very small, very angry woman.
"I have a family to get back to, you son of a bitch!! They ain't got the brains to take care of themselves!!"

The white walled room was crowded with strange people, all of which Sally was scared of, to some extent. Well, except for the blonde kid crying in the corner. He seemed harmless. The others though... Along with the angry woman, the blonde kid, and the guy with the really cool shoes, there were two other people. One was tall, very tall, his silly purple costume doing nothing to soften the glare he gave the heavy iron door. And the other... He was the one she was most scared of. He sat calmly on the floor, examining every person in the room with the scrutiny of a critique appraising disappointing art. The more she looked... He kinda looked like Joey. But older. And hotter. His gaze flicked to her, and she looked away immediately, stiff as a board. Hot, yes, but also terrifying.

The sounds of protest were cut short as a metallic clank sounded from the other side of the door, swinging open to reveal another scary looking man, this time holding a gun. Lovely. The guy with the cool shoes spoke first, jabbing a finger at the gingers face.
"You! Do you know who I am? What I can do to your pathetic little set up here? I am Junior fucking SpaceClaw!! You think you can ju-"

"Shut up, son, I have some answers for you, but not before a few questions."
He said sharply. The guy, apparently named Junior, gasped in offense, opening his mouth to make another remark, before he was elbowed sharply in the ribs by the angry woman, who fixed him with a glare so motherly that even Sally recoiled.
"I wanna hear what he has to say for himself. What kinda bullshit excuse he can come up with."

The man with the gun raised an eyebrow, before giving her an appreciative nod.
"My name is General Jon McNamara, P.E.I.P. I'm sent to deal with unfortunate situations not unlike this one."
He paused, looking around at the motley crew gathered before him.
"...Tell me your name, where you're from, and what year you're from. Starting with you."
He gestured at Sally, who froze in alarm. Oh god, this didn't look so good. It took her a moment of gaping like a fish to respond.

"S-Sally Greenwich, from A-ann Arbor Michigan, 2009."
She managed in a small voice. There was a stunned silence, Junior speechless for once as his jaw practically hit the floor. General McNamara looked around for a moment.
"...Well? Someone else go."

The next to speak was the woman, who looked extremely shaken as well.
"Sophia White, Oregon City..."
She trailed off, looking around as though just now realizing what kind of a room she was in, and who she was in it with.
"...1847."
She mumbled, the horror obvious in her shaking voice.

1847!? But how was that possible!? Mrs. White, well... She'd be long dead by now! Sally's thoughts were interrupted by the next person to speak up, Junior.
"Junior SpaceClaw, 2257. Considering I literally live in space..."
He trailed off, no more explanation needed as Sophia went pale. At this point, the small boy in the corner burst into a fresh batch of tears, sobbing something about space and mars and lions. There was no consoling him, honestly, so everyone just left him alone for the time being.

The tall one spoke next, voice just as deep and scary as expected, but with a hint of worry that wasn't quite as expected. Apparently Sally wasn't the only one in distress.
"Razul Hijr. I do not know what these numbers refer to, but I hail from The Magic Kingdom, under the gracious rule of Princess Jalbala."
This was met by another moment of shocked silence. Magic Kingdom...? Wasn't that a Disney park...? Whatever, that could be focused on later. For now, there was only one more person coherent enough to respond. This man had been dead silent the whole time, no emotion displayed on his face whatsoever. He looked around, realizing it was his turn to speak.

"Owen Carvour. I hop around, 1961."
He said simply, before getting to his feet. Where as moments ago he faded into the background, he now demanded full attention. This guy wasn't someone you wanted on your bad side.
"Messy little situation, isn't it? So then, General, you said you had answers."
His chipper British accent seemed to darken as he next spoke.
"Where are they?"

The General let out a light sigh, shaking his head, speaking crisply.
"Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you much, except where and when you currently are."
He looked around at the group with a solemn frown.
"Hatchetfield. 2018."

Sally was a perfectly average girl.

She wished her life would reflect that.