Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

Someone’s coughing hard within the cloud of smoke and dust that conceals the aftermath of this epic confrontation.
A hoarse voice shouts.
“Hey, Storm Queen, blow this crud away. I can’t see.”
The coughing stops and a guttural voice replies.
“She’s gone.”
The first voice swears low and hard, then both return to coughing. The dense cloud slowly thins until something thunders by above, tearing it apart in the slipstream.
Shawn ‘Captain Impervious’ Smithson of Team Explosive Fix straightens up slowly, peering through the remaining strands of blown smoke.
His eyes widen.
“You!”
Dust has dimmed the sheen of their green-blue scales, but the twisted horns rising above a crest that runs from brow to tail-tip are unmistakeable: the alien warlord nicknamed Scaleon has survived yet another attempt to kill them.
Scaleon looks up from where they’re wiping blood from their claws. Without stopping, they gesture to the surroundings with the swing of a long snout.
“As ever, I am impressed by what you’re prepared to destroy to prevent us peacefully interacting with you. I am less impressed by the sheer number of your own you seem happy to sacrifice while doing so. Before you launch another attack at me, tell me why you’re so scared of peaceful visitors from another world?”
Shawn balls his fists and runs a status check across his gear. Comms are offline, but he’s got access to an Executioner drone that’s reporting as viable. It’ll take a few minutes to get here, but a nuclear blast will deal with this alien scum, just like it did the ones in Chicago, London, and Madrid. His best play is to stall for time.
Scaleon waves a cleaned hand about.
“Come now. None of your little watchers remain, and your communications web is down. There’s no-one to report you. Tell me, Captain. Why do you fear us so?”
Shawn puts fists on hips and nods towards the undamaged sections of the city, far in the distance.
“It’s not fear. It’s defending our way of life. About a century ago, immigrants nearly ruined us. Luckily a visionary president took power in time to save us from our forefather’s misguided generosity. Since then, we’ve liberated half the world from the lesser races. The last thing we need is an invasion by Goddamn giant lizards from outer space. We’re so close to realising that president’s ‘One God, One Planet’ vision.”
Scaleon pauses for a moment, then shakes their head.
“Hear me, Captain. Long ago, we nearly lost our civilisation to a combination of xenophobic beliefs and tyranny. Since avoiding that at great cost, we’ve deliberately and rigorously kept religion and governance apart. Life is better for all because of it. As for this ‘invasion’? We came to trade with our closest neighbours. Unfortunately, we arrived at a bad time. The problem you cannot see is something you must work out among yourselves. We’ll leave. Eventually, we’ll meet again.”
Shawn watches in amazement as Scaleon rises into a formerly empty sky, where a sizeable spacecraft has appeared. When the creature is aboard, the craft disappears upwards at incredible speed, leaving nothing but a shimmering contrail.
He sets the drone to linger. Comms crackle to life. The shouting on all channels is jubilant. The scaly invaders have retreated, driven back by the super-powered teams and their supporting forces.
Shawn calls the Redline.
“Smithson here. Alien withdrawal stated to be temporary. They also explicitly stated opposition to the ‘One God, One Planet’ objective. Smithson out.”
In a darkened oval office, someone chuckles quietly.
“Alien re-invasion? Excellent. Something real for the people to hate.”