You'll be under ftc jurisdiction soon anyway, dew it
the usmc private, freshly enlisted up top his MRAP, looks down the glow of his machine gun radiating off the setting sun, the maroone lighting of it all bouncing off the concrete of the cn tower as it peers over the horizon, the glass of its windows flashes onto him as he jerks back and forth. the driver trying to avoid the pre war pot holes dotting the 401, his gaze is molested by plumes of dust kicked up miles high, just as his eyes met the source, he attempted to imagine how big the convoy that created such an event.
before his thoughts could conjure an image his question was answered.
they were innumerable, dotting the horizon and fast approaching, indians on electric bicycles, their uber food delivery bags filled with high explosives' barreling towards them as fast as the street legal motors could carry them,
an epiphany struck through his mind like bolts of fire, all the thousands of info graphs he had saved on his phone to dab on canadians depicting the very real demographic changes of their nation, how could be be so ignorant,
there were millions of them, all brought over here for a purpose, not to replace the canadians, but to crush their invaders.
OPEN FIRE, the life of the guns drown out the mushmouthed english of the initial wave as the shells ripped and killed the indistinguishable mass of bodies as they weaved in synchronized acrobatics, perfected from a lifetime of dodging killer trains back home.
one lucky shot struck the dripping lithium battery on one of the identical chinese ebikes causing it to explode and ignite the one thousand dollars of plastic explosive on his back, the gust of wind created pushed the pungent odor, biohazardous to any actual human, into the eyes of our protagonist,
eyes watering, nostrils on fire, the insides of his pitvipers how saturated with a thick layer of vomit, tearing them off his face gave one of the pajeets an opportunity to launch himself off the gore pile of bio mass into the air past the leeway the mounted guns and down into the tops of the american transport vehicles. slamming down, detonating his payload. thus completing his porous to his host nation and simultaneously alleviating a modicum of strain on the canadain tax payers.
the ensuing chaos and loss of human life, only made the rest of the new canadians change into the ranks of the invaders inevitable,
just as the private got his bearings 4 indians slammed right into the flank of his truck, the ensuing blast sending him up into the sky where in his final moments before gravity sent him back to earth he could see the shimmers of at least 100 passenger jets, reinforcements! from any country on earth wanting to live a better life, that was the promise, this was the reality,
he thought the shit skins would turn toronto into a warzone, but this was far beyond his wildest imagination,
