And so we went in.
Combat formation, all five of us, me first, face masks on so tight that the edges of our eyes pulled, suits like a second skin. Weapons in both hands, back-ups attached to the wrists and forearms, flash-bangs on our hips.
No shielding, no vehicles, no nothing. Just us, dosed, altered, ready to go.
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Once a month, on a Sunday, Mum and me and my little brother Zubby would dress up in our best clothes, Mum would put ribbons in my hair, and we’d all walk into town to go to church…
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I was poisoning crows the day the aliens arrived. They’re smarter than you might think – crows, not aliens – and they don’t go for any of the easy stuff anymore…
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“We’ve got one of them,” he told me gleefully.
“One of what?” I asked, bewildered.
“One of them,” he said, as if that explained it. “Cheeky sod from Accounts came upstairs and tried to get a coffee out of our vending machine. Can you believe it? Out of OUR vending machine!”
Nothing cheekier than a pandemic of murderous intent..
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God cocked his thumb and aimed his index finger at the firmament.
Ka-pow! Pow! Pow! A line of three perfect glowing pinpoints of light appeared in the black void…
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Overlord always goes on like this when all he really has to do is slap down a dossier with “This Guy Needs His Ass Handed to Him” stamped on the cover. I’m just cutting to the chase.
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