The Massacre of Dusk Hill

ROUND 1 OF 4

Across the rolling hills at dusk, one million infant voices rise in a discordant shriek as the Infant Bioweapon Horde unleashes its first volley—streams of poisonous excrement arc through the dimming air in chaotic sprays, most dispersing uselessly into the evening breeze whilst others splash harmlessly against the grass. Superman ascends effortlessly into the sky, his silhouette framed against the fading light, whilst fourteen Jedi hamsters ignite their luminous blades below, their tiny figures radiating an almost insulting confidence.

ROUND 2 OF 4

The hamsters strike first, their Force-enhanced bodies blurring across the battlefield as lightsabres hum through the swarm with mechanical precision; entire clusters of babies are dispatched before they can even aim their bottles, the squeaking crescendoing into something approaching despair. Superman descends into the fray, his invulnerable frame utterly indifferent to the toxic bombardment, and begins shepherding the remaining horde towards the hilltop with methodical inevitability.

ROUND 3 OF 4

The Infant Bioweapon Horde's formation collapses entirely as the Jedi hamsters execute a devastating pincer manoeuvre, their tiny paws channelling Force lightning that arcs between clusters of screaming combatants, whilst Superman—now hovering directly above the thickest concentration—simply waits, allowing the babies' own panicked fire to rain down upon each other in the gathering darkness. Poisoned bottles impact poisoned flesh; the horde cannibalises itself through sheer numbers and confusion.

ROUND 4 OF 4

A final, pathetic squeeze of a bottle from a lone surviving infant reaches Superman's chest; the toxin evaporates harmlessly against his invincible skin as if moisture meeting desert stone, whilst the smallest of the Jedi hamsters—barely visible in the twilight—leaps with Force-assisted fury towards the last cluster, its blade singing through the night air with lethal grace. The screaming stops.

» Superman catches the final squeaking survivor mid-leap and sets it gently upon the grass, where it sobs inconsolably—the only mercy granted this entire evening.