Bullying Bieber

The situation: President Bieber has the USA enveloped and oppressed in a smooth, pre-pubescent iron fist. Only a small rebel army can take him down- but the leader has a mysterious past...
NOTE: this movella is slightly longer than some of my others, but i think if you persevere, it may actually be quite fun to read. Any 'Beliebers' who want to complain about the derogatory style are free to do so... i just won't care.


7. Are we winning yet?

Akira pulled the cardboard box over herself, and pierced another box with the barrel of her sniper rifle. If anyone was to look, they would only see a pile of soiled cardboard boxes.

And not an eleven year old sniping for their heads.

Akira adjusted the cheekpiece, a good feature of the MP-410, and peered through the scope. The magnification was so good that she could see the pupils of the officers. She pressed her finger to the trigger, and breathed deeply, remembering her father's words. Keep steady, focus on one target at a time. Imagine their anatomy, aim for the brain, not the head. Aim for the heart, not the chest. And most importantly, have a back up plan.

Akira glanced at the pistol next to her. She had her back up plan. She straed once more at one of the officers. He was shouting wildly, firing intermittently, and seemed panicked yb the situation. He would be easy. She tensed her finger, gripping the sniper rifle with her shoulder. The man's head snapped back, and he slumped to the floor. The elite Beliebers seemed confused, looking around desperately and firing wildly. Akira fired again, taking out another officer. This would be easy.

Or it would of been, had she seen a Belieber climbing the ladder, and clicking the safety off of his pistol, murder on his mind.


Sara reloaded her mini uzis and fired, taking out three elites. More advanced, so she ducked behind the wall, breathing heavily. Many of them had fallen, so they had spread out, but even so the Uprising were hugely outnumbered. She swivelled and fired, chipping the elites cover. Two of them sprang up and fired, narrowly missing her. Sara frisked herself for weapons. She had two semi automatic pistols, a revolver, and three grenades. She pulled a grenade off of a belt, and bit the pin, pulling it away, She felt the slight vibration of the grenade (or, in Mr Sushi's words, the an 'egg roll'), and the familiar warmth spreading through her hand. She swung her arm in an arc, seeing the genade fly through the air and land, exploding on contact. Two elites collapsed to the ground, their bodies burnt and lacerated with the blast.

But Sara had exposed herself.  

Eight elites ran forward in a crescent formation, clutching submachine guns. Sara swore and signalled for help on her comm. Desperately, she sprang up, firing wildly with her mini uzis. The elites were torn apart with the force and number of the bullets. Sara sighed, and then winced, doubling over. Her shoulder felt wet and warm, and stung like it had been impaled with a shard of glass. Sara collapsed, gripping her shoulder, just as Half pint scurried over to her.

'Sara, Sara, come on.'

'I'm hit,' she grimaced. 'I need-'

But Half pint wasn't listening, because he was staring incredulously, as about fifty elite Beliebers strode forward, armed to the teeth, and baying for their blood.


Rudd ran to the building, dodging gunfire. The Priest continued to fire, and Sara and Half pint seemed okay (although Half pint had gone to investigate Sara's distress signal), but Rudd had seen... Akira. A man, advancing towards her. He tried to comm her but she wasn't responding.

He vaulted over a wall, firing at elite Belibers behind him, and leapt onto the ladder, climbing quickly. He threw himslef over the edge, and fired, taking out Akira's assailant. Akira swivelled around, pistol in hand, but relaxed when she saw Rudd.

'Rudd... I... thank you,' she smiled.

'That doesn't matter. We've taken some out, but they still outnumber us. We need to-'

BANG! The turret fired again, and Rudd felt the ground vibrate. He ran to the edge of the roof and aimed, firing madly at the turret. He could hear the bullets clanking on the surface, chipping away. He needed something stronger. He pulled a rifle out of his back holster, and aimed. The bullets clanged against the surface, splitting the metal. The turret turned to fire, but Akira then began to fire, sniping the turret. It began to relinquish, the elites inside abondoning it just as it was torn apart, the metal bending inwards as the bullets pelted its surface.


Half pint grabbed Sara and pulled her to the side, hiding her from view.

'Half pint, what are y-'

'It's okay, Sara. I sneaked something from Mr Sushi's the day we went.'

Half pint pulled out a large red canister and strapped it to his back. Attached were two pipes, leading to two small nozzles. Half pint grabbed the nozzles and stepped forward, squeezing triggers positioned under the nozzles.

Sara stared, eyes wide, as two streams of fire roared from the nozzles, consuming and enveloping the elites in a vortex of heat. They screamed in agony, rolling around, trying depsperately to put out the fire. One elite Beliber escaped the stream, but a bullet hit him squarely in the back (Akira doing her job, there). 

Sara picked up a mini uzi and emptied a magazine on them, accelerating the attack. The elites fell. Half pint picked Sara up, to her surprise, and ran around to the back of the church.

'Rudd, Akira, meet behind the church,' he signalled on the comm.

The gunfire dried up as only a few elites remained. Rudd and Akira climber down the ladder, their breathing ragged.

'Sara's hit. We need to revise our plan.'

Rudd chewed on his lip, reloading his assault rifle. The Priest fired his RPGod, tearing the last few elites apart. The area fell silent. Smoke curled around the corpses of the fallen, pumping out of roaring fires. The turret stood lopsided, strips of metal tore out of its shell. Riot shields lay on the floor, torn apart by Half pint's shotgun shells. The battle had been own, but the war was not over.

'We'll keep Sara here,' spoke Rudd, to Sara's protests. 'You're in no state Sara. Stay here with the Priest. Me, Half pint and Akira will go to the Whitehouse.

Sara's face fell. Her shoulder was swollen and blood was still seeping through her cloak.

'I'm sorry, guys,' she choked, and a single tear, pearlescent in the darkening sky, rolled down her cheek.

'It's not your fault,' whispered Akira.

'We need to reload, get our health back, then we'll go. And we'll take down President Bieber.'


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