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#3
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Part Three
The million plus golden bridges of shimmering liquid floated in a random sequence across the fields of Earth. A planet drenched in an ultra dimensional rain of reality’s urine stream.
Galactic Piss. Wear your slicker.
The Authority had beaten back the stories of fancy and the Seed of the Almighty, everywhere at once protecting a populace too weak to do much other than shriek and scream.
“I just murdered Jesus,” Apollo the Sun King said as he held his 10-year-old daughter Jenny in his arms, letting her play in the ashen feathers of microwaved angels, “and I think I’m okay with that. What’s next, people?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jack Hawksmoor answered via telepathic link from atop the Eiffel Tower, his alienware foot soles bound with the structure’s steel frame. A fleet of space craft had descended from the clouds, their flight propelled by their bow-tie structure. “Paris is getting attacked by the clones. Sound off!”
“Engineer in Australia,” Angela Spica answered as she watched the Sydney Opera House come under assault by the biggest goddamn monkey she’d ever seen, “Planet of the Apes just got super-sized.”
“I’m in a Seattle shopping mall,” the Midnighter grunted as he flicked brains off the sleeve of his leather coat, “mother fucking zombies. Again.”
“Some asshole in a fedora just cracked my ass with a leather fucking bullwhip,” Swift said as she flew through a Brazilian rain forest, “are we allowed to murder guys with glasses?”
“Small-town, Kansas,” the Doctor said as he watched a typical Midwest main street descend into Hell by way of an army of vicious green hobgoblins, “and I’m pretty sure I’m just tripping my balls off. Nothing to report here.”
“Come on, Jenny, honey,” Apollo said as he took flight, “Let’s see what we can see.” He ascended into the heavens, breaking through the clouds at the edge of the atmosphere. “Oh dear,” he said as he spied the second moon orbiting the Earth – a mechanical moon with a gigantic gun built atop it, pointed straight at him.
“That’s no moon, is it, Daddy?” Jenny asked.
“Okay Paris,” Hawksmoor said as he crouched atop the Tower, watching the swarm of star craft rain down multicolored flares of laser fire onto the world’s romance capitol, “let’s hope you’re not the pussy all the other cities say you are.”
The God of Cities leapt onto the nearest dog fighter, burrowing his fingers into the ship’s hull. He hadn’t noticed until then that no two ships looked the same, an armada culled from every single shitty science fiction movie ever committed to celluloid. He flexed the muscles in his arms and ripped the ship’s canopy open, exposing the shrieking pilots to the wind shear accompanying their flight. The skin tore from their faces following their helmets, and as the craft fell to the cobblestones Jack hop scotched to the next ship with a wry grin slapped onto his mouth.
“Highway to the fucking Danger Zone!” he said as he roundhouse kicked Tom Cruise’s F-15 into the Millennium Falcon.
“Paris, France you get your god damn guns up!” Hawksmoor commanded as he leapfrogged from plane to plane, cutting a swath of destruction in the attacking mass of ships. The city finally acquiesced to his demand, a row of streets standing up right like a massive Transforming beast of the Renaissance. The sentient city grabbed onto the top of the Eiffel Tower and pulled it free, waving it in the air like a colossal war club.
Paris swung for the fences, hitting pop fly star ships back into the stellar fields that spawned them.
“I don’t believe this shit,” the Engineer said as she flew closer to the rampaging primate that had stomped Sydney into a flapjack, “that’s one massive monkey dong. You doing anything after this, sweetheart?”
King Dong roared and tried to swat the buzzing silver insect that flittered around its face. “Come on,” Angie admonished as she lit the monster’s pelvic region with a fiery hail of bullets, providing little more than jock itch, “the Aussies smell bad enough as it is, do you really think they want to get bathed in monkey brains too?”
“OOH, OOH, OOH!” the giant gorilla bellowed as it stomped back and forth, arms flailing at its side.
The Engineer steeled herself – oh, look at how witty THAT was! – and flew like a bullet toward the monster. Her silver skin erupted with a coating of spikes and spines a moment before she entered the creature’s erected urethra, her body spinning like a drill upon insertion. “OOH, OOH, OOH FUCK!” the Kong screamed before the Maker erupted out the small of his back like a shotgun blast.
Fleas the size of a Kia Sofia jumped ship off the falling gorilla, only to be crushed by 5,000 tons of dead primate.
“Well, was it good for you?” Angela asked with an upturned middle finger.
“The best thing about hordes of zombies?” the Midnighter quipped as his steel shaft exploded with force against the head of a shambling abomination that had once been Mrs. Beulah Cobb of Seattle, Washington. “You can kill all you want and never get bored.”
The Night’s Bringer of War stepped confidently through the wide aisles of the shopping mall, a trail of broken and dismembered corpses fallen behind him. The zombie horde was beginning to thin. Midnighter was thinning the herd, one shattered skull at a time.
The leather-clad vigilante swung his staff in a wide arc, smacking the heads off the four closest creatures like he was popping a zit. The zombies kept coming, shambling forward without pause. Sheep walking into the slaughterhouse. Zombies are dumb.
“It’s almost a waste, fighting mindless deaders,” he commented while stomping furiously on the skull of a zombie that had fallen beneath his feet, “there’s nobody here to appreciate my trademarked ‘I know how this fight is going to end’ speech. A pity, that.”
It didn’t take long for the Midnighter to decimate his way across the mall. Eventually, he was just picking off the stragglers that had paused to eat some mall-rat brains. When he finally stopped, he looked down and sighed at the amount of blood on his coat, stains that would be hell to get out. When he looked back up, standing in front of him was yet another zombie. A massive one, machete in his hand and hockey mask on his face.
“What are you supposed to be?” the Midnighter asked, obviously unimpressed. “King Zombie?”
The hockey-zombie lurched forward, machete raised high in the air in preparation of the killing stroke. The Midnighter caught the monster by the wrist and twisted, snapping its hand off machete and all. The zombie looked confusedly at its severed stump, almost as if it was aware of what would be coming next.
“Word of advice,” the Midnighter said as he swung the machete, severing the hockey fan’s head from his shoulders. “Next time, stay dead.”
Whip crack!
“God damn it!” Swift shouted, the leather whip slicing across her ass as she flew by. The old guy in the leather jacket and fedora was keeping her at bay with the bull-whip, while the busty chick with her twin revolvers was keeping her from landing. Shen Li-Min was not having fun.
Skree!
Swift dove, her feet transformed into avian talons. The whip cracked toward her again. This time, she caught it between her claws and tore back into the sky, lifting her assailant with her.
Fuuuuuuck!
Shen tossed the tosser into the air, taking great pleasure in watching him flail around while plummeting to his death in the Brazilian jungle. He was dying a long way from Indiana.
Blam! Blam!
The woman in the constricting tank-top fired her guns with no hope of hitting her target from so far away. Swift circled around out of range while the bitch kept firing. Finally, her ears picked up on the click, click, click of two empty cartridges. Shen dove like a bullet, wings pulled back tightly to reduce wind resistance. She was on the archaeologist whore before she had time to even think about reloading.
Big Fucking Tits!
With her finger talons, Swift dug claws deep into the flesh of the woman’s breasts and lifted back into the air. Silicone leaked through the puncture holes onto her hands. Enhanced boobery! “Don’t worry, honey,” she said as soared through the jungle’s tree canopy, claws dug firmly into the Raider’s chesticles, “mine probably cost more than yours.”
Watch out for that treeeeeee!
Swift dodged the massive fern tree in her path. The buxom woman, released from Shen’s grasp, did not.
The Doctor strolled down the main street of Franklin, Kansas. His hands held behind his back, casually. “Fellows,” he said through the team’s telepathy communicators, “this is the bat-shit craziest thing I think I’ve ever seen.”
The street had gone wild with a horde of green goblins causing havoc in their wake. They destroyed, they drank, they fucked (each other and any poor man or woman that they came across), and just generally made a mockery of every single small-town value ever conceived. They were content to ignore the Doctor as he walked amongst them.
He could only laugh.
“Seriously, this is hysterical,” he observed, stopping to watch a goblin with a massive cigar in his teeth that was giving a Cleveland Steamer to a poor young waitress. “I don’t know if I even want to stop this.”
Suddenly, the Doctor’s way was blocked by the appearance of something strange. A critter, clothed in a blanket. Reece’s Pieces fell out of its mouth while it chomped down. Bulging black eyes stared up inquisitively at Jeroen, who crouched down to better examine the varmint.
“ATn’T phone home?” the critter asked. It lifted a glowing middle finger in front of the Doctor’s face.
“Oh dear,” Jeroen said with a smile, “fuck what the others say...”
He picked up the critter, blanket and all, and held it in his arms.
“...I’m taking you home with me. Door.”
The shimmering door appeared. Before he stepped through, the Doctor sighed and turned his head back toward the goblin chaos. “As much as I hate to do it,” he admitted, “change.”
He stepped through the Door, leaving the Franklin, Kansas street populated not with gremlins but with a horde of furry bunny rabbits.
The number of deaths by way of hippity-hop increased exponentially over the following weeks.
In near-Earth orbit, Apollo and prepubescent Jenny Quantum hovered. The Moon Gun was getting closer, taking aim at the planet below. This was an extinction level event.
“Jenny, wait for me at home,” he ordered his daughter. “Door.” Gently, he set Jenny through the portal back into the Carrier. With a pat on her head, the Door closed, leaving Apollo to stand against the Darth Moon alone.
In space, Apollo’s solar-fueled powers were at their maximum. He broke the speed of sound as he launched toward the Moon. The giant gun affixed to it moved a hair faster. It fired, hitting Apollo dead center of mass, blowing him back down to the planet beneath him.
On the Carrier, Jennifer Quantum sulked over her father sending her home. “Door.” she said, opening a gateway of her own. She stepped through and emerged in the command center of the Darth Moon, causing all on board to jump back in surprise at the inexplicable presence of a ten year old girl inside their death machine.
“Turn around, go home,” she ordered, all eyes staring at her, “or else.”
Her response was a fit of uproarious laughter.
The laughter stopped short and the men parted like the Red Sea. Limping forward was a creature of even smaller stature than Jenny herself, its old and withered body held up by the short walking stick grasped in its paw. “Home us no go,” the green-skinned commander said, “ours now, your planet.”
Jenny blinked. “Are you retarded?”
“Kill you, I shall,” the midget warrior-monk said as its walking stick shimmered with light, transforming it into an energy saber, “wear your skin, I will.”
Jenny smiled. Ten years old or not, she was nonetheless the Spirit of the 21st Century. She had more power inside her than her entire “family” fighting on the planet that was now endangered. “Fuck you, muppet baby,” she said.
She stuck her tongue out. Raspberries, the harbinger of destruction.
The Darth Moon exploded with the sound of “fraaaaapppp!”.
Apollo woke up in a crater somewhere in the Gobi Desert. Jenny stepped through a door beside him and curled up beside her daddy. “Don’t worry, Dad,” she said as he saw the fireworks of a destroyed star-killer falling to the Earth, “I took care of business, just like you’d want me to.”
“Authority, sound the fuck off!” Apollo heard Hawksmoor screaming in his mind.
“Apollo here, getting my bearings somewhere in Africa. Jenny just saved us from instant annihilation. She’s her daddy’s girl, both of them.”
“That’s so sweet!” Angie chimed in amidst the radio-telepathy.
“Oh my sweet fuck-all,” Jack moaned, “all of you get over here and help me!”
“What are you crying about now, Hawksmoor?” the Midnighter asked.
“This has all just been the warm-up, the opening acts,” the God of Cities answered.
In Paris, France, Jack Hawksmoor could only stand and look up into the sky.
“I think we may be well and truly fucked now, people...”
To Be Continued...
Next: In Authority: Full Bleed #4: I have no idea, but Neville’s writing it! It’s going to be awesome!
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