Non-Liquid Invasion.
16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTi2cf4q43I
The moment the hatch opened, the Insectoid rolled down the ramp, performing a couple of somersaults and even managing to stand on his head for a better survey.
Alright, alright — what do we have here? Aha!
Semi-desert terrain. Perfect. No one can sneak up unexpectedly. Dust everywhere, hills everywhere. And those are interesting — artificial piles, clearly constructed as ramparts.
What’s that in the distance? Oh. That’s even more interesting.
A massive military base, stuffed with countless mock cities made of concrete and plywood. Tiny cities — yet clearly modeled after some terrestrial analogues.
Who gives a damn! The important thing is: they’re preparing for wars here.
The Insectoid — already sick of that stupid nickname, yet damn it, it had stuck — bared his fangs. Humans here were conditioning themselves for conflict, which meant they were ready for one to erupt any second!
— Hey there! The conflict has arrived all by itself, you little shits! — roared the warlike runt and struck his forehead with two fingers. A gesture of supreme valor.
Overwhelmed by surging excitement, he broke into a run. His gear pack levitated behind him.
As he went, he scanned distant antenna towers, torn flags, shooting ranges — and he could barely restrain himself from setting any of it on fire.
His path was blocked by a rusty perimeter fence with warning signs. What was written on them — he didn’t know. Why learn the language of those who would soon leave nothing behind?
A set of laser pliers flew out of the pack and, by their owner’s will alone, bit through the links. The path was clear. From inside the bag, the barrel of an ion cannon rose slightly, and the Insectoid growled:
— Not now! I’m going to kick their asses in a way that’ll make them feel it. They should whimper and piss themselves in terror — not be wiped out instantly. So… what do I have in my arsenal?
He froze.
And thinking was something a conqueror hated — it distracted from the exhilarating prospect of a proper beating. So the invader scanned the surroundings irritably, trying to decide what to strike these microbes with first.
And then he saw the tanks.
Similar machines had once been built by his own race, eons ago. He remembered them from ancestral tales. Back when ancestors still existed.
These tanks looked mangled, old, abandoned. They even seemed overgrown with grass. And still — not a single miserable human in sight.
— They’ve probably hidden inside the tanks out of sheer terror, just waiting for me to enter the firing line, — the future tormentor concluded with satisfaction. — Well then. I’ll show them!
The Gauss cannon also peeked neatly out of the pack and rubbed against its owner’s arm, demanding affection. He waved it off and shouted:
— Get lost! No time to play with you! You’re offering simple solutions, and I need to tell these freeloaders that they wasted their lives studying the art of war — while my race has been teaching it for ages!
So. Time to show them the best I’ve got.
Activating the protocols, everything meant to ideologically continue his intentions leapt out of the pack one by one.
First, his body was tightly wrapped in a lace dress of nanoparticles with a short hem — an elite-class armor. Then two revolvers jumped into his hands, and he instantly spun their cylinders, checking the chambers.
— Excellent! Now you’re truly screwed! Random! — cried the battle shout of his people, uttered by the one publicly known as the Insectoid, as he charged toward the enemy machines of death.
A long-abandoned military base was about to suffer a devastating rout. The kind of destruction after which there are no victors and no defeated.
Only the triumph of spirit.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.