It all happened so fast. First, the world was divided amongst itself. Then, boom—there were hundreds of them. Giant alien ships hovered above Earth, aiming at the planet with technology nerds would salivate over.
The government tried to respond; they always do. It took the world's entire nuke supply to take out two ships, which were quickly replaced. Everyone had already accepted their fate. Some were horrified, rightfully so—we hadn't even seen what these aliens looked like, and they had already dismantled our strongest weapons.
Cults were fast, too. Some called them gods; I'm pretty sure even some parts of Christianity somehow made connections between them and the Bible. A load of poop, to me. After the third day of the ships just hovering there, the Earth started to shake as if it were being moved. Everyone thought they'd finally decided to blow us up. At the time, I would've preferred that, as the reason we were shaking was a giant ship as big as two Earths and more advanced than 2,000 years of progress.
That's when the world really fell into despair. Every news outlet, every government official—anyone you could think of—was saying this was the end and how this was the punishment we deserved. But they didn't do anything. At least not for a day, then a week, then a month. Eventually, people started to accept that there were giant ships in the sky.
The government tried to send a ship aboard, but it was shot down and looked like it beamed up the astronauts like a crappy sci-fi movie. So, that ended that. It was quiet—a little unnerving, sure—but better than being debris. Then, after a month, they came. A giant staircase descended from the massive ship, and that's when we got a look at our visitors.
They were green—not unnaturally, like a lime, but more earthy. Some were darker than others, but they looked... human? The leader was an old man. He was a dark olive color with a long white beard that almost touched the floor when he walked. He looked like a leader, the type you'd see in human movies—minus the fact that he had three eyes. Each had a black sclera with a red, green, and blue iris. He had four arms: two rested behind his back, one carried a stick to walk, while the last stroked his beard as he looked around, observing the planet.
Flanking him on either side were two similar-looking but just as bizarre aliens. On his right was a young man, the type you'd see making bodybuilding content. He was a lighter shade of green, but not to the point of unnaturalness. He had four arms and walked with a smile that could piss off a monk. On his left was a girl. It seemed she held herself with an energy that could calm even a raging beast. She had three eyes and glasses that only covered two of them.
They all wore what seemed like royal garb. The old man had robes like a priest—marble white, purple, and gold puddled on the ground as he walked. The man next to him opted to just wear what looked like baggy pants, walking down shirtless, which drew a disgusted look from his female companion. She was wearing a suit in the same colors as the leader, which almost made her look like a butler. Her eyes scanned the area as if we had anything that could even remotely harm them.
It didn't take even 30 minutes for all the world leaders to be rushed out to the location, much against their respective militaries' wishes. They all held their breath, soldiers at their side, guns up, as if that would do much.
The old man spoke first. It sounded strangely human but nothing like the languages we have. He kept going until the girl at his side tapped his shoulder. "Papa, ellos no pueden entenderte."
The old man looked shocked for a second and said something back that drew a laugh from both of them, while the young man just rolled his eyes. After a brief chuckle, the old man looked back to the world leaders and cleared his throat. "Ahem. Leaders of Earth, hello? Helooooo?"
The man was speaking in somehow all their native languages at once. "Hellooooo!" the old man drew out, like a kid talking into a microphone.
"We can hear you," said America's president.
"Ah, great news! Very well then. My name is Giontoantoslorito—or Gio, for short," the old man said with a chuckle into his beard.
The one common thought amongst the leaders was that the three figures seemed way too calm—not a "confident in their victory" calm, but as if they were meeting new friends.
"My name is James Johnson, the President of the USA," he said with an extended hand.
"Ah, you're the leader. Very good. I'm assuming that these are your lieutenants?" Gio said as he shook hands.
The President hesitated for a second as a bead of sweat dripped down his face. "Err, not quite. Everyone here is the leader of their own country."
Gio tilted his head as the young man behind him let out a laugh. "Maybe this planet won't be such a bore," the young man said.
"You're saying that all of you are equals in strength?" Gio asked, confused.
All the leaders almost looked smug when he said that, acting as if they didn't send armies to fight their battles for them.
Maybe if I say yes, he'll leave us alone, James thought as they finished shaking hands. "Yes, as a matter of fact," he said aloud, trying his best to sound confident.
Gio's eyes widened slightly at this—not in shock, but like a kid opening a Christmas gift. "Well, that's simply wonderful! Let's see... there's one, two, three... eight of you! Why, that's almost a dozen! Just five more and we'll have enough for an actual Ouro!"
"A what now?"
The girl next to Gio leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Papá, te olvidaste de desafiarlos adecuadamente."
He jumped at this. "Ah, yes! Apologies, apologies." He raised a fist to clear his throat, his demeanor shifting into something more formal. "People of Earth! We, the Anthorian representatives, challenge you to an all-out tournament!"