Chapter Text
It was a humid day on Sesame Street. One of those days where the fog rolled down the streets obscuring the scenery, leaving only blank silhouettes of people and houses. And it definitely wasn’t good for Elmo’s lungs. He heaved as he walked along the slippery streets, his heart beating out of his chest. He leaned against a wall to catch his breath.
He let out a sigh of relief and let himself slide down to sit on the cold sidewalk. That was until he heard a familiar gruff voice, “The sign says no trespassing!” Elmo recognized it immediately and he let out a small laugh. “Ah, Oscar. How are you.”
He positioned himself so he was facing the nearby trash bin where Oscar was resting. Oscar glared at him, his brows furrowing with frustration. “I’m doing horribly, Elmo,” He hauled himself out of the trashcan, revealing the long healed over wounds from his time in the war. His entire bottom half had been severed, leaving him only capable of movement with his arms.
“Look what I found in one of the dumpsters this morning. It was screaming and wailing- dear god I wanted to- well I won’t go there. But here,” He reached his arm down into a nearby dumpster and pulled a small child out by the hair. A human one. She was maybe four feet tall, with short brown hair and wearing a dress depicting a cartoon mouse brandishing a piece of cheese. She had a ripped piece of cloth wrapped around her mouth to muffle the cries, but she was still very audible.
Elmo raised a brow, “Oh, how did a human get here?” Oscar shrugged and let go of the girl’s hair. The girl screeched through the cloth and a loud crash was audible as she hit the bottom of the metal dumpster once more. “Not sure what to do with the thing if I’m honest. I mean- she could be radioactive.”
Elmo nodded. It was a fair point. If the child didn’t know the area well enough (and it was probable she didn't) then she would’ve had a real chance of wandering into one of the radioactive zones of Sesame Street. Like Big Bird’s old nest, it wasn’t even very far from the alley they were currently in. “I can take care of it for you,” Elmo said.
Oscar glared, “Really? I was thinking of just putting it down.” He eyed toward a locked box in the corner, likely full of weaponry. Elmo nodded and reached into the dumpster to grab the child again, “Maybe I’ll let her out near the border tomorrow. She can run back to the humans or get eaten by bears. Either way she’s not your problem.”
The green puppet sighed and nodded in agreement, “Seems like a win for me. Just make sure not to let the thing bite you. Might have diseases.”
Elmo gave him a thumbs up and put the child in a cardboard box for safe-keeping. “I’ll come back for the thing after I go to the market.”
-------
Ernie took a swig of his drink and threw the bottle onto the ground for good measure (and maybe also for the dramatics of it), his usual. The bartender just glanced at him and eyed an assistant who went to clean up the sharp mess. “Screw this town,” Ernie grumbled, putting his face in his hands. And a few of the people around the bar nodded in agreement with the sentiment.
A few grueling minutes later, a hand reached over and gave the man a friendly pat on the shoulder, Ernie turned his head to see an old friend sitting on the stool beside him. Grover. “What’s wrong today, pal?” The blue puppet asked Ernie, a sympathetic smile on his face. Ernie sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“You know how Bert got remarried?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
Ernie scowled, “His new wife is pregnant. How is that even possible?! She’s like- so so so old, man! Should be all dried up in that department by now shouldn’t she?” A small laugh escaped Grover's lips and he hesitated to think of an acceptable response. He turned to face Ernie, “Maybe you need to move on.”
“What do you mean move on?” Ernie snapped back instinctually, “I obviously have, I even moved out of our old apartment. Like a year ago!”
“The divorce was thirty years ago, Ernie…”
He looked away at that and down at his drink. Swishing the liquid around in its glass container. “Yeah well it’s not my fault I don’t have a good enough job to get rich and famous and move away to some big city and pay some poor immigrant woman to marry me. I work at a gas station, Grover.”
“You don’t need all that stuff. Just try and find someone new! Why pay for a disinterested immigrant girl when you could have like… someone who isn’t being paid to be near you. I’d say you could do even better than Bert if you go that route.”
Ernie looked up at his friend and let out a small breath, “Maybe.” Grover smiled and patted his hand, “Seeya.”
“Seeya.”
----
Smog filled Elmo’s lungs the second he set foot into the half-way crowded marketplace. The desperate whirr of dilapidated machines and quiet whispers of the other puppets around him buzzed in his ears. The people around him wore tired faces, and the vendors wore hungry--ravenous even--expressions.
He always had a set route when he went to the market. First Cookie Monster’s butchery (may as well get it over with first thing) then Bert’s Bakery he owned with his wife. If he ever strayed from his path, he did it hesitantly and with keen awareness.
Elmo found his way to Cookie Monster’s Butchery, using the rancid smell and the bright light of the fire emanating from the shop’s windows to guide him. When he walked in the stairs creaked, alerting the big blue monster of his appearance. He turned around and waved with an expressionless face.
Cookie Monster had never been the same since the war. Nobody knew what he’d seen to put him in such a permanent state of shock but he had never come out of it. He was selectively mute, only speaking to the lifeless creatures he butchered in his shop. Whispering quietly to them as he cut the parts perfectly to the chart. His once-blue hands were stained a dark and ominous purple.
Elmo pointed to the steaks he wanted through the glass counter and within seconds a bag of the stuff had been dropped down onto the surface in front of him with a sickening slap. He could hardly see the actual meat through all the blood.
The red puppet gave Cookie Monster a polite smile, “Thanks. Excellent as always. I’ll see you next week.” He walked as quickly as he could without being obvious and exited the building, letting out a small sigh of relief. He knew Cookie Monster wasn’t dangerous, but he couldn’t help feeling a deep ingrained sense of dread when he entered the premises.
----
Elmo made his way to Bert’s bakery. A more pleasant experience than the butchery, but not by much. Bert and his new wife (an immigrant puppet from Malaysia) were constantly arguing, especially in front of customers.
And this visit wasn’t any different. As soon as Elmo entered the brick building he bore witness to Bert’s wife throwing kitchen utensils everywhere- the walls, the floor, Bert. She had tears streaming down her face as she yelled, “I should’ve never married you! I came to this country because I thought I would have a better life! Not to marry some good-for-nothing man! What exactly have you provided for me?! Better yet- what can you provide for our child? Nothing- just admit it!”
Bert stood on the opposing side of the counter with a nervous expression on his exhausted face, “Aida please- there are customers. Why do you always do this? You give our store a bad reputation!” His face became more aggressive, “It’s your fault I can’t provide anything for this family when nobody wants to come here because of your screaming and yelling!”
Aida let out a shocked gasp, “How dare you blame me for this!”
Elmo cleared his throat awkwardly and the couple turned their heads to look at him. Bert chuckled dismissively at his wife, “Ah! Elmo! Welcome to the bakery. The usual?” Elmo nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot counting the seconds in his head to distract himself from the sheer tear-jerking awkwardness of it all.
Bert pulled a freshly-baked loaf of bread from one of the ovens and quickly bagged it and handed it over to the red puppet. “I apologize for-uhm-the wait,” Bert laughed, his eyes glancing back and forth from Elmo and his glaring wife, “Have a nice day.”
Elmo gave him a sympathetic nod and waved as he left the premises. He wiped off the sweat dripping from his fur with his wrist and let out a small sigh of air. All he had left to do that day was go get that kid from Oscar and he’d be set to return to his secluded cabin and relax for the rest of the week.
----
That was when they heard the sirens. The old sirens from the war. Tall and menacing, a phantom looming over the town as they went about their lives. A reminder of the past that hadn’t been sounded in decades. Every head turned toward the center of town, bloodshot eyes looking to the sky, scanning for familiar danger.
Ernie ran out of the bar, grabbing Oscar by his shoulder before he could walk away. Oscar had a terrified look in his eyes as he whispered to his friend, “Do you think i-it’s a drill?” Ernie hesitated. There hadn’t been drills since the war ended. Nobody even knew that the sirens worked anymore. But there must be some explanation that wasn’t what everyone feared.
“It’s probably some kids just messing around. You know- teenagers are idiots. We were like that once. I’m sure it’s fine.” Oscar nodded while taking in a deep breath.
“Yeah, you’re right,” He laughed quietly, “I was just being stupid I suppose.”
Before Ernie could respond a thunderous boom shook the floor under their feet, sending cracks running through the concrete. Oscar jumped into a nearby ditch, pulling Ernie down with him and they covered their necks with their hands. Nobody said a word. There were no screams, just the sound of crumbling earth and hot metal crashing into the humid air of Sesame Street. Ernie could hear his heart beating in his ears.
What was happening?