Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

“Batman—Darkseid’s parademons are RIGHT ON OUR ASS!!!”

“Calm down, Kent.”  Batman pulls back on a lever, deploying long streams of glowing chaff from the Batwing’s sides and underbelly.  “You’re part of the Bat family now.  Panicking under pressure is unbecoming.  Keep your eyes on the monitor; let me know if Amazo shows.”

“Fuck Amazo!  These goddamn parademons are—AAAAAHHHH!!!!”

Batman banks us into a steep, rightward barrel roll.  Chunky, half-digested pizza flies from my mouth and splatters the inside of the canopy.

“Disgusting,” Batman mutters, leveling us out and dispatching a pair of parademons with a well-aimed missile.  He pulls back on the steering column, causing the Batwing to veer above the ensuing explosions.

“You’re going to have to learn to keep your composure, Kent.  None of us have superpowers.  We can’t afford to make mistakes, unlike our metahuman counterparts.”

“I DO have a superpower!” I protest.  “I have a giant—”

“Oversized genitals don’t count.”  He turns us sideways and we scream past a wall of turrets mounted on Darkseid’s mothership.  Bats presses down on a dual set of triggers, scoring the mothership’s turrets with directed-energy cannonfire.

“But what about—”

“Doesn’t count.”

“You haven’t even—”

“Doesn’t count.”

“How the hell do you know if—”

“Doesn’t cou—”

THUNK!  Something heavy lands on the top of the Batwing.

“Deal with it.  I’m busy with targets.”  Batman’s voice stays calm and level.

On the monitor, a spindly-limbed, naked man is hanging on to our hull.  He’s wearing professorial glasses, his hairline is badly receded, and he’s chanting something sibilant under his breath.

“Batwing:  amplify exterior noise—anything between 20 and 20,000 hertz.”

The man’s chanting becomes audible:  “Eleusinian revelations, wrapped in the kindest knife-edge of deceptive intellect.”

“Oh no!” Batman gasps.  I see blood pouring from the edge of his cowl where skin meets costume.  “I can’t…I can’t…BLUUUGHHH!!!”  He vomits a giant stream of greenish-yellow, spackling the dashboard with all-organic barf (courtesy of Alfred’s high-quality cooking ingredients) then passes out and slumps forward against the steering column.

“The horror of unraveling, made plain by government’s lamplight—a greasy finish for a rotting corpse.”

Oh shitit’s EMO-POET.

I know how to fight him:  with my wiener.  But since we’re in the Batwing, it’s gonna need a boost.  So I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

“IT IS I—PENISAURUS!”  My dormant wiener surges into full sentience, bursting from my pants and ramming the canopy clean off the Batwing.  On the exterior cam, I see Emo Poet lean to the left as the beta-amyloid glass goes flying past him.  He skitters a few more feet toward us, lizard-like, then he locks eyes with Penisaurus.  His mouth drops open in abject horror.

“THAT’S RIGHT!” Penisaurus screams over the howling slipstream.  “I’M PACKING TOO MUCH MAN IN THESE HERE GLANS FOR THE LIKES OF YOU, YOU SQUIRREL-DICKED TWILIGHT-WATCHER!”

“Mercy!” Emo Poet squeals.  “Please—I was only joking!  I wasn’t trying to—”

“SAVE IT FOR THOSE HOT TOPIC-CLAD, STARBUCKS-LOITERING TROGLODYTES THAT PASS AS YOUR FRIENDS!  THERE’S A SPECIAL PLACE FOR THEM IN HELL:  A FLAMING PIT LINED WITH DISEASED COCKS, ALL OF ‘EM EQUIPPED WITH LASER-TARGETING SYSTEMS SO THEY CAN ZERO IN ON YOUR PASTY ASS!”

Then he rams his giant helmet into Emo Poet’s chest, sending him tumbling off the Batwing and through the clouds.  He reaches out toward us as he plummets toward the Earth.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

“PENISAURUS!” I yell.  “I CAN’T LAND THIS THING!”

My wiener snakes back into the cockpit, pee-hole stretching into a mile-wide grin.  “Not a problem—sit back and relax.”  He wraps his length around the steering column.  In a matter of minutes, he’s guided us down to the ground.  We hop out and lay Batman on the turf.  Wiener prepares to give him mouth-to…

Well, mouth-to-peehole would be the right term, in this case.

Batman coughs himself awake, just in time to see Penisaurus looming over him.  “NO!” he shoots a gloved hand out, stopping my member in its tracks.  “No—I’m fine.”

He locks eyes with me, his cowled eyes narrowing in disgust.

“Worst.  Superpower.  EVER.”

 

Have you signed on as part of the Bat Family, and now need to pull a Hail Mary out of your gorgeously genitaled ass?  Never fear!  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  Vol.4 on Kindle here:  Vol. 4 on Kindle  Echo Omnibus here:  Echo Omnibus  Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here:  Combined Edition  If you wanna hear me babble on about anything and everything, and strain my FREAKIN’ BRAIN, then here’s a link to my podcast:  Strained Brains!  It is on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, and Google Play!  Please give it a listen and a five-star review!  Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human:  Optimization, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

Hold on!  I just got approved to be an Amazon affiliate!  If you’re going to buy ANY product from Amazon, and you’d like to support my efforts for absolutely free, then simply click on one of the Echo links I’ve provided—they’ll send you to Echo’s Amazon page—and THEN buy whatever product you wish.  Amazon gives me a small referral fee each time this happens!  In this manner you can support my books, musings, podcast, zany ads, or my adventures along the noble path known as The Way of The Man Child WITHOUT spending any more money than you were already going to!  Should you do this, I vow to send you a silent blessing, causing your genitals to adopt the optimum size, shape, smell, and death-ray attachment of choice that paralyzes your enemies with fear and envy!  Entire worlds will bow before your nether parts!  😲💪 😜

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