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The lions had sentineled the gates for a century.
The first of the pride had been created in a lab, a bioengineering complex dedicated to creating beasts to defend against an invasion that humanity knew would come. The people had known of a looming threat from another dimension for centuries, one that would test humanity’s mettle and resolve beyond all comprehension. They said that this was not enough, that the invasion was of power comparable to gods, that they would arise from a well of long-forgotten culture from the 21st century, perhaps creations of our mind itself dedicated to thwarting our never-ending progress.
The scientists did not fear. They merely brushed this off as just another obstacle that man would surmount through sheer ingenuity. They mocked and jeered. After all, what could defeat a billion bioengineered lions, not mere beasts but rather extensions of technology that could create “lion ladders” and “lion mechazords?” (For the latter, the scientist that created such a preposterous name was mocked ceaselessly by their peers, but it had already caught on with the public. That was me, by the way.) What threat could shatter an unstoppable tsunami of rending teeth and claws? What being from beyond our world could put an end to a billion of the largest land carnivores that roamed the earth? A billion lions is , in their words, *a lot of lions*.
It was an ordinary Tuesday when the invasion began. I had been sipping my coffee in the lion laboratory, lazily tilting my chair backwards as my peers caught notice of a gravitational anomaly in the upper atmosphere.
“There seems to be a quantum fluctuation in the sky above New York.” muttered a voice at the board. “Could this be the invasion people were warning us about?”
“It’s ALWAYS New York, isn’t it?” I inquired (a bit rhetorically.) “Why do aliens always target the US? Why not, like, Switzerland or something? They make nice cheese there! Don’t the extraterrestrials want to know our cheesemaking secrets?”
“This is serious, subordinate. We have detected notice of a critical gravitational anomaly. Satellite data claims this is some type of wormhole, three by three feet, which faintly glows under ultraviolet scanning.”
“Ha ha! You could call it an Ultra Wormhole!” I chuckled.
My superior gave me a nasty glare. “We have no time to waste. This could possibly spell doom for humanity. Dial security THIS INSTANT. We are legally bound to deploy Project LION in the wake of an anomaly like this.” He pressed his palm to his forehead and muttered under his breath. “How did they even get this job...”
“Fine, fine!” I threw my hands in the air.
I was quick to act on my promise. Only five minutes later, the billion lions had been released from their holding cell by the military. They tirelessly watched the sky, waiting for an invading fleet to burst from the Ultra Wormhole and attempt to set foot on their tangled web of golden-brown fur.
I hesitantly bit my lip, waiting for all hell to break loose. What would emerge from this rift in space-time? Muffled whispers surrounded the complex. Some expected demons or the rapture; others expected invading sci-fi aliens. When we’d first heard of this event, it sounded like a hoax. People were quick to mock those who had visions of enigmatic entities. Yet what seemed like an innocuous conspiracy among the insane evolved like a plague. Soon, the hysteria had swept the globe, while at the same time a popular children’s brand had faded into obscurity and been seemingly wiped from the face of the earth, by government intervention or otherwise. No records survive to this day. We didn’t know how or why, but I had a crazy theory that the creatures from the children’s brand were going to be invading us. I didn’t dare tell anyone, of course, not with my reputation and all that.
The world watched with bated breath as the Ultra Wormhole seemed to breathe in and out, and the first of many streaked from the heavens like a shooting star.
The lions patrolling the streets of the city stared at the sky with apprehension as the fireball drew closer and closer. Whatever this creature was, the lions seemed more than ready to face it. Could a billion lions really defeat whatever this threat was?
The fireball slammed into the ground with a violent shudder of smoke as the nearby buildings trembled, loose rubble crumbling off like rain. As the smoke parted, the creature became more and more clear. And we had no option but to laugh.
The threat that we were warned of was a yellow mouse?
A handful of chuckles bounced around our lab as we observed the screens, glancing at each other in disbelief. The invasion that we’d been expecting our whole lives was a dazed rodent? I found myself laughing, too, knowing that all we’d have to fight was this.
But the laughter died just as soon as it was born.
The mouse staggered around, wiping its eyes as if injured. It even made a little yelping cry as the lions took notice of it. The lions began to move forward as one mass of powerful bodies, an insurmountable wall of flesh and teeth, backing it up against a building. As I relaxed in my swivel chair and sipped an oreo frappe, its fur bristled, sparking violently, as if its fur was standing on end from static electricity, and its crimson cheeks began to glow.
As the lions licked their lips in time for dinner, the rodent began to tuck its arms and legs in before a crackling coil of yellow-blue lightning erupted from the tip of its tail like a thunderbolt from Zeus, One after another, lions were vaporized completely into piles of burning ash, leaving dark scorch marks on the ground. The press went mad; the cameras flashed and the shutters clicked like machine guns.
But the lions would not be defeated so easily. With newfound ferocity at seeing their compatriots evaporate, the lions lunged as one renewed force, transforming from mere beasts into a frenzied ball of destruction. I grimaced as the lions dogpiled on top of the rodent. No amount of shock would deter a billion lions, so many that they packed the streets full like sardines. Because, frankly, a billion lions is a lot of lions.
The lab erupted into carnage. Monitors flared to life, picking up new heat signatures from the wormhole every single second.
“That violates everything about the laws of thermodynamics,” someone whispered from the back of the lab.
“This isn’t just an attack! This is an invasion!” someone else yelled at the top of their lungs.
“So this is what we’re up against,” I muttered, barely able to tear my eyes from the carnage below. “Goddammit. What are we doing? We’re not just fighting an army! We’re fighting some crazy physics-defying magical crap!”
More stars began to fly from the heavens, streaking down like rain. Our sensors could clearly see now that these creatures were contained in strange capsules of sorts, which released the odd beasts in bursts of cerulean smoke. Some of the creatures began to tear through buildings, seemingly in panic, releasing untold energies from their maws. We saw beasts of every shape and form; a turtle-like creature with an entire tree on its shell that snapped a crane in two with a single charge; a red dragon with a flaming tail straight out of that streaked through the air, bombarding buildings with gouts of flame and sending civilians fleeing in panic; and a multitude of rodent and bird-like creatures, which easily took down many lions with powerful energy beams. I noticed something strange – never was there more than one creature of the same type, instead, it looked like each and every one of them was unique.
Normally the lion organization wasn’t a military protocol, but this was dire. Our sensors had detected widespread destruction within five minutes of the event. The situation was clear at this point: we should not have underestimated those creatures. “Evacuate the city! Everyone out! And assemble the lion towers! We’re going to need aerial support! Mayday, mayday!” My superior barked out orders, fumbling for the intercom, knowing fully well that any second longer and the civilians would be entirely torched.
Civilians fled in droves, some on the backs of our lions, towards who-knows-where. This was not a battle for the innocent to bear witness to. This was a battle that our lions would have to fight. A battle that our lions had been training their entire lives to do.
“We can’t hit the flying creatures!” somebody yelled. “There’s a falcon with a dumb haircut shooting giant beams at the lions!”
My superior had already carried out the plan. “Execute Plan B: Lion Ladder.” He then turned towards me. “Why aren’t you leaving? Go! This is not a game of football!”
Something kept me rooted in one place. I wasn’t some spineless technician who would just run at the slightest sign of danger. This was my vision, what I’d spent my entire life’s work on for no good reason. I had boasted for years about how our lion army was invincible and could stand up against any threat. I wasn’t ready to back down now just because some animals were attacking us. Besides, how could I have let this miraculous event pass without documenting it? I was someone who would seethe at any historical inaccuracy I came across. Why would I ignore an event that would alter the course of history? If this was our last stand, I would be here to witness it.
“No. I’m going to stay here.” I smirked.
My superior paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m not going to try to convince you otherwise. I can’t have debates spell my end. But you’re insane. Borderline suicidal. Do you have any respect for your own life?” He beckoned out the door before bolting himself.
I paused to think about it before staring out the window. Welp. I may have just preordered my death. But again, what did I have to live for? My wife was dead. My home was in ruins. My lions failed, staggered, died one by one. Only the billion best clones remained, and I had witnessed death aplenty. Why did I still fear death?
There were now no civilians in the city. Just lions and beasts.
No, not beasts.
There was more to them than that. They came from this isolated pocket of space. They seemed to possess intelligence far superior to even our bioengineered lions, which clamored on top of each other, trying to form towering pillars to reach the avian creatures. And they communicated. A pelican-like creature shielded a fiery moth with a barrier to dodge a rockslide. A cannon-bearing turtle and a skeletal croc teamed up to form a sea of fire, eliminating lions by the droves. No, they were something else entirely.
Monsters... some of which could fit in your pocket, which came from a pocket of the cosmos. Pocket monsters. Poke-mons. Pokemon?
Something about the name just felt... right to me. As if it was the hand of divinity stroking my head and whispering that it was their true name.
No civilians.
One witness.
One billion lions...
versus one of every Pokemon.