Silence wrapped the dark air. The only light to be seen was an ominous halo on the horizon. It was not sunrise or sunset.
It was the ZORG. They were coming.
The quiet was gradually broken as the alien-robot guys approached, a robotic yet ringing cry of “Gazumph” sailing through the air. Soon, the ZORG’s target was surrounded, a perfect circle at the crest of the hill the only territory left to the Tealians. They were a formidable army, though an anthill in comparison to the ZORG. Equipped with standard-issue acid-paint guns and pepper spray grenades (not to mention their signature spikes), they had overtaken many a foe. However, they met their match with the ZORG.
They had been battling the ZORG for the better part of a year and a half. The ZORG had calculated that they had the power to squish them in approximately ten minutes flat, however they did enjoy fighting the furry creatures, so they took their time.
When you shocked them with a blue lightning laser, their fur stood on end and began to fry before the entire round creature folded in on itself, dead after a final twitch of a shiny round nose. The ZORG found this endlessly amusing.
Anyway, back to the hill. With a collective whine, the Tealians and the ZORG began to fight. A group of the brown creatures stood back to back in a circle at the very top of the hill, shooting acid-paint pellets into the crowd of shiny, glowing robots. The ammo clinked as it hit metal bodies, making slight scorch marks that faded away after a few seconds.
The ZORG had recently updated their armor. It now had self-regenerative powers.
Another group of Tealians rolled themselves into spiky little balls and flung themselves down the hill, gaining momentum and trying to knock the ZORG off their feet, throwing the pepper-spray infused explosives at the robots.
The ZORG found this hilarious, and giggled electronically as they fried the little fluffballs one by one.
Bangs, booms, whines and “Gazumph”s rang through the air, until eventually there was silence.
“The ZORG will prevail always.” The collective voice spoke as the last Tealian of that particular group sizzled.
They then proceeded to sit down at the carcass-strewn battle ground to drink some (non-alcoholic) Pina Coladas and, eventually, dance.
Because, you know, what’s a battle without some little sugar-drunken dancing robots?