The San Francisco skies darken with hordes of assault ships. One of them—an Imperiex War-Cradle—slowly descends and touches down in Union Square, crushing the outdoor tables and cracking the concrete. A red-carpeted ramp lowers from its belly, and its pneumatic joints let off an ominous hiss. Cyber-armored commandos march out and establish a perimeter. People gasp and murmur.
A few minutes later, a heavily armored figure emerges from the ramp: a seven-foot tall giant of a man who makes Sauron look like a Care Bear version of Richard Simmons. His massive boots clunk loudly against planking as he makes his way down.
When he reaches the bottom of the ramp, he looks slowly around, his red-eyed gaze burning with venom.
“Beliebers…” The word comes out as a throaty rasp. Like a razor scraping across gritted pavement.
“Kill them all.”
Justin Bieber walks back into his ship.
Suddenly, shadows darken the sidewalk. We look up and see a horde of bodies dropping toward us, awash in glitter and various forms of teeny bopper attire. When they touch down, geysers of dust erupt from the earth. The crowd is still in shock.
Then: “BELIEBERS! RUUUUUNNNN!!!”
Beliebers leap through the air, spitting and hissing like meth-ed up Gollums. A SWAT van pulls up, its blue and reds flashing, but it’s quickly swarmed by teenyboppers. They tear through its reinforced outsides as if they were tissue paper, then begin pulling apart SWAT operators organ by organ. The SWAT guys manage to get a few bursts off, but the bullets fly off the Beliebers’ chaos-magicked skin.
“—oh SHIT—”
“They’re fucking EVERYWHERE—”
“GAME OVER MAN—GAME OVER!!!”
National Guard helos touch down on adjacent high-rises. Grunts run out onto roofs and establish a base of fire, but it’s no use—Beliebers are digging their perfectly manicured nails into the sides of the high-rises, clawing handholds into their faces and galloping upward like they were the Incredible Hulk. In a matter of seconds, the Beliebers are tearing through Guardsmen. One of the monsters use two disembodied arms like a pair of clubs, smashing a sergeant’s face into an unrecognizable pulp.
And then one of them locks gazes with me.
She sprints toward me, her red-veined eyes bulging from their sockets. I feel warmth trickling down my leg, and I realize I’ve just pissed myself.
No options left. I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Ripley from Aliens materializes in the square, fully kitted out in a weaponized construction mech, similar to the one from the movie, but festooned with guns. She works the levers, spinning its claw-arms and locking them into a guard position. She looks steadily out at the horde of Beliebers.
“COME AND GET YOU SOME!!!”
The air hazes with mechanized gunfire. Pulse cannons chatter at a thousand rounds per second, ripping through the enchanted skin of the foul Beliebers. Ripley works the mech’s claws in mad flurries, snapping apart limbs and torsos with efficient pulls and brutal slashes.
Not gonna lie—it was freakin’ AWESOME! 😀
What will YOU do when the Dark Lord Bieber arrives in his Imperiex War-Cradle? Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here: Vol. 1 on Kindle. Vol. 2 on Kindle here: Vol.2 on Kindle Vol. 3 on Kindle here: Vol. 3 on Kindle #kindle #kindleunlimited #sciencefiction #scifi #books #novel #book
Kent Wayne 
Leave a reply to I tripped over a stone. Cancel reply