The Beatles took their girlfriends out for a fancy dinner in a nice restaurant with dark, secluded tables where no one could see them to bother them. All four Beatles felt a little uncomfortable in the back of their minds, knowing this was the first time they had even not shown up when their fans were expecting to see them. But sitting here in the candlelight with their best girls, these thoughts seemed somehow unimportant, and were pushed aside.
“Let’s go back and get the car,” Paul said, as they stepped out into the chilly night air a few hours later. “I can drive us up to your house.”
John gave him a look. “I’m driving.”
“Why should you?” demanded Ringo. “I’m driving!”
George frowned. “No, I’m driving.”
“No.” Morag spoke in a clipped, irritated tone, like she thought the Beatles were wasting her time with their debate. “None of you is driving. We’re driving you there in our car. We’re the only ones who know where to go, anyway.”
The Beatles were a little disappointed, but Morag did have a point. The eight made their way across the car park, the women leading the boys to a side road where they must have parked their car ahead of time. It was a large beige car, with enough room inside that eight people could fit quite comfortably, four in the front and four in the back.
May got into the driver’s seat, so Paul sat on her left, and John sat beside Paul before helping Emily in after him. Ringo and George held the backseat doors open for Natalya and Morag before getting in beside them.
The night was clear, and the moon and stars shone brightly as the car rolled along, quickly bypassing the main roads and making its way onto a lonely country road outside the city limits. Trees grew thick on either side of this road, blocking any nearby houses from sight, if there were any to see. The Beatles’ girlfriends’ car seemed to be the only one on the road, since the minutes passed without a single other car going by. Morag was right – the women’s house must be in a very secluded place.
Ringo gazed at Natalya as they drove, her red hair and dainty face shining in the moonlight, mysterious and inviting. It was just the sort of night he would have liked to park with her in a secluded spot like this one, and he found himself wishing he were driving and that he and Natalya were alone in the car. He reached for her hand and took it, smiling a moment later as her soft, cool fingers closed around his own slender, ring-laden ones. She was so beautiful and mysterious and special, and Ringo gently turned her face towards his, gazing deep into her eyes. She stared back with a hard, determined look, not pulling away. Ringo knew they weren’t alone in the backseat, but Morag had her arm round George’s shoulders and had turned him towards the window. Neither one was paying attention to Ringo. Ringo smiled gently, leaned forward slightly, and kissed Natalya’s lips.
A moment later, he felt her kissing him back, and his heart fluttered in his chest. He pulled her in closer, pressing her to his chest, feeling her arms gently wrapping about his shoulders. He never wanted this to stop. Natalya’s fingers tangled through his long hair, and suddenly, Ringo felt an odd prick on the back of his neck. He blinked and started, but was too wrapped up in Natalya to think much about it. Pulling back slightly, he gazed again into her beautiful face. Kissing her must have dazed him, because Natalya seemed suddenly out of focus. Her red hair and yellow outfit swam before his eyes. Kissing her shouldn’t have done that, should it, Ringo thought hazily. He blinked several times, but his vision only blurred more, like he was looking at the world through John’s glasses. What was happening? He couldn’t think....
Without warning, Ringo collapsed and fell forward, his head landing onto Natalya’s shoulder, who frowned and pushed it away like his touch now disgusted her.
George, meanwhile, was still facing the other way, gazing out the window with Morag. Her arm was wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and they were murmuring quiet things to each other as they stared up at the moon. George frowned suddenly as he sensed the change behind him. “Ringo?” He started to turn his head to look behind him.
Morag squeezed George tighter, turning his head back towards her – “Never mind him, George, look at me” – and he felt the same prick in his neck as Ringo had. George blinked as Morag swam out of focus. “Morag?” he murmured, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “Did you....” He saw Morag’s arm slip back to her side, something silvery glinting in her hand. “You....” That was all George managed before he fell forward, limp and unmoving.
In the front seat, Paul had noticed something off. “What was that, George?” he said, turning round to see what his friend was doing. A small gasp escaped his lips as he saw George and Ringo unconscious in the backseat. “What....”
May suddenly whirled round, taking one hand off the steering wheel, and jabbed a small silver needle into the back of Paul’s neck.
“Ow!” Paul slapped at the place where the needle had hit him. John looked round at him. “Paul?”
Paul blinked hazily at May, who had turned her attention back to the road, but suddenly looked different, teeth bared in an almost triumphant leer. “May... what did you....” With a small moan, Paul fell forward onto the dashboard.
Everything had happened so fast, and none of the Beatles had really been paying attention to what the others were doing, but at this point, John had noticed enough. With an angry noise, he rounded on the women. “What have you done to them?!” He pushed his way towards May, trying to grab the steering wheel from her. “You stop the car and put them right!”
May leaned to the right to avoid him, looking more disgusted than anything, but with Paul sitting between them, John couldn’t reach her as quickly as he might have otherwise....
“Calm down, John,” came a cold voice behind him, just as John had touched the wheel, and next thing he knew, John felt the sharp prick in the back of his own neck. His vision couldn’t exactly fade because it was so blurry already, but he could feel his strength begin to drain as consciousness left him. His hands dropped from the steering wheel as he fell, collapsing onto Paul’s shoulder, and knew no more.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” muttered Emily. “He always was the most annoying of the four....”
May nodded with satisfaction as she drove on.

Ringo’s head was pounding. Where was he? He couldn’t think. Everything seemed like a blur, but he had a vague feeling that he had just kissed Natalya for the first time, and hadn’t liked it. Somehow, the thought of Natalya left a bad taste in his mouth...
Beside him, Ringo could see John, Paul, and George, slowly blinking and rubbing the backs of their heads and looking about them dazedly. At least, whatever had happened to them, they were all together. Ringo blinked several times, and his surroundings came into focus. Not that there was that much to see. He was in a dingy grey cement room, dark and not well cared for, with no windows and no furnishings. Several pipes snaked across the walls, a couple of them making a steady drip-drip sound onto the hard, unfinished floor. But the most disturbing part of all this was the wide expanse of chain-link metal, like the sort of fence you would find round a park, stretching from floor to ceiling and across both walls, completely cutting off the small corner of the room where the Beatles sat from the rest of the place – including the room’s only exit.
The four women were standing on the other side of this cage, arms folded and faces set in a way that was somehow very different from their usual sour expressions. Now they were almost smiling, but not in a way that reassured the boys. As the four Beatles saw them, the floodgates opened. “Where are we? What are we doing here? Who are you?”
“We’re exactly who we said we are,” Morag informed them, and she really was smiling now, which none of the women had ever done around the Beatles before. “You, on the other hand, might as well get used to your new place, because you’re not going to be anyone important ever again.”
Ringo stared out through the chain-link, hardly able to take this in. His wide blue eyes locked onto Natalya, hoping there was a mistake somewhere, not wanting to believe this about her, knowing in his heart it was true. “Why?”
Natalya wrinkled her haughty little nose at him. “I told you, Ringo – we hate rock-and-roll music. And you four are the worst rock-and-roll band in all of England! We thought it was just a silly phase, that people would be over it in a year or two – but now that you’ve come on the scene, you’ve made it much too popular. No one listens to anything good anymore, thanks to you.”
Emily nodded. “So we had to get you out of the picture. Think what it was doing to us, having to hear that awful loud music every time we went outside!” She shuddered, but this time, John had no sympathy for her. She was too affected, almost fake.
“Stop being soft,” he told her angrily. “You can handle a little rock and roll music, seeing as you managed to kidnap us and that.”
“And what are you going to do with us now you’ve brought us here?” George queried delicately. He was the best Beatle to ask this question, because he could sound politely curious and not at all worried.
“As far as we’re concerned you can just stay here for the rest of your lives,” May replied in her clipped tones. “Or until you starve. It shouldn’t be too long.” The thought seemed to please her. All four women were smiling now, cold, humourless smiles.
“Oh, and don’t bother trying to scream for us to come and let you out,” added Natalya. “Those walls are too thick. No one can hear you.”
Morag smiled chillingly. “It’s just like I told you, George,” she said. “No one around for miles. No one will ever find you here. Isn’t it lovely?” And as the Beatles pressed desperately against the chain-link, she turned on her heel, the other women following, and they marched away up the stairs that led to the only door, their steps eerily in sync like they always were, their hips swaying smugly behind them.