ConGenex, it would seem, has out-maneuvered us from the outset. They had everything in place, and alien technology to boot. They had a moon base!
But I get a bit ahead of myself.
We arrived at the ConGenex launch site, where we were given the run around by middle management of all shapes and sizes. We were finally seeming to get somewhere when, using bad special effects from television shows of the previous century Striker was taken from us and a talking orb left in its place.
After a moment of prose, the orb left as well, and we are left with a robot of dubious value. I don’t trust the tin can, but it seems disposed to follow all of our orders, so I can live with it…for now.
The person “in charge” at the air field was kind enough to let us finish our aside, which made me even less pre-disposed to believe him. When I say less, I started out wanting to simply put a 12-gauge slug in his head, and progressed to wanting to torture him a bit before ending everything for him.
Death is a mercy I am denied, and I’m damned if I will be merciful to others.
I drew on the pond scum in a uniform, and so his people drew their weapons on me. This was easily remedied with a ring of fire.
That was when the inspiration for Captain America comes riding through the gate on a motorcycle at what could have only been termed a snail’s pace, and began firing into the crowd of soldiers. Yes, he had a gun.
I suppose that fisticuffs was just too much for a man in his eleventies.
This started a short but furious firefight, which we were only too happy to end. Decisively.
I got a few shots off, the robot was indecisive, and Mhoram stood there looking cool and chanting while people shot themselves and got glued to the ground around him.
Is it any wonder that Wizards are a staple of both Fantasy and Urban Fantasy?
The Mysterious figure removed his helmet to show us that he was…Max Powers.
Oh, come on! Really!?
So, the putz tried to prove to us that he’s really a good guy, but I’m not buying his offshore oceanfront property.
We headed to the biggest of the hangars and found an alien space craft. The information that the Robot provided told me two things: The first is that he comes from a race of conquerors, and the second is that they are actually small fish compared to the group that the space craft came from.
For the first time, I realize that the petty squabbles of the United States are just that, petty squabbles.
We are being targeted by not just one, but two interstellar, dare I say Galactic, civilizations. We are a backwater compared to them, but that will not always be the case, and we might even have something they need. Resources come to mind: People and raw materials.
The concerns of the fifth largest land mass, and not even that in population, no longer matter. The concerns of the Humans no longer matter.
I have been thinking a lot about what we are, we supers, we beings of intelligence, we mutants and super soldiers. There was no one term that covered all of these beings. And calling us better than the humans is like the humans who call themselves better than us.
We are just different, and so that is what I think we should be called. Homo Xeno to be exact.
We are Xenos, and we are the only beings on this planet who can hope to lead this world to any future, bright or otherwise.
What we found on the moon base only underscores this for me. The Xenos there, some of whom had been there for years, were being treated worse than even the poorest human. This reminded me strikingly of the holocaust, something that people said they would never repeat.
Apparently, you have to be considered human for that to apply to you.
Xenos need not apply for basic human rights…
We made it off the moon as the base self destructed, and now we have grown our ranks to a grand total of 70 people. Four of us who were originally gathered by Max, the Robot, and the 65 we rescued.
I toss of my allegiance to this United States.
It is time for the Xenos to stand up for themselves. It is time that we also stood up for the future of earth.