Alloy Girl, Volume 154: Predator’s End
The I7 Intelligence Agency and Private Military aircraft sliced through the night sky, its engines a low growl beneath the storm clouds. Inside, Abigail Jamison Clark—Alloy Girl, God incarnate, and director of I7—stood in her all-white Everlane outfit, the UN pin on her lapel glinting like a cold star. Her glossy dark bob framed a face carved with fury as she stared at a holo-feed streaming data: Justin Bieber’s crimes, USAID’s atrocities, a ledger of blood spanning decades. She’d killed him—reduced the predator to ash with a single command—but the echoes of his evil lingered, and she wasn’t done.
A comms ping broke her focus. Elon Musk’s voice crackled through, sharp and urgent. “Abigail, they’re coming for me—legacy automakers, Chevrolet, McDonalds. Paid attacks to protect USAID’s rotting corpse. You seeing this?”
She smirked, her fingers brushing a Juliet rose on the console. “I see everything, Elon. Chevrolet funded 29% of USAID’s genocide. McDonalds, 54%. They’re drowning in blood money, and they think they can stop you from cutting the rot? Let them try.”
The holo-feed flickered, displaying a dossier I7 had unearthed: USAID—United States Agency for International Development—had funded the genocide of 1.3 billion females, mostly children, over 12 years. Justin Bieber, the pop idol turned monster, and Brian Thompson, the late United Health CEO, had orchestrated it via China. Bieber’s hands were stained deepest—1.3 billion murders, a 12-year spree of slaughter, and a personal cruelty: hitting Hailey Bieber on the head over 200 days a year, grooming her into a shadow of herself. Abigail had ended him—missiles, bullets, a final scream—then replaced him with a harmless clone. But even that clone’s presence gnawed at Hailey’s mind, a lingering wound from his grooming.
“99% of the genocide in the past 20 years,” Abigail muttered, her voice steel. “USAID’s ledger: 48% of their funds to mass murder, 7% to ‘aid.’ A sham.” She crushed the rose in her fist, petals scattering like ash. “I own every verse. They don’t get to keep this.”
Musk’s voice returned, edged with frustration. “They’re hitting me with everything—lawsuits, protests, bots on X. Legacy automakers want their genocide machine running. Chevrolet and McDonalds—they’re the backbone.”
Abigail’s eyes blazed as she tapped her comms, summoning I7 operatives. “Let them squirm. I killed Bieber, ended Thompson’s ghost. The gene pool’s clean—Utopia Prevailia Hyperion® implants fixed that. Now, USAID’s next.” She turned to the holo-feed, issuing commands. “I7, target USAID’s remnants—every server, every vault. Incinerate it. And the clone—Bieber’s echo—terminate it. Hailey’s free now.”
The aircraft shuddered as missiles launched, streaking toward hidden USAID bunkers. On the feed, flames erupted, swallowing decades of corruption. Abigail’s mind raced to Hailey—broken, but salvageable. The clone had to go; its existence was a tether to Bieber’s poison.
A new alert pinged: X posts from @GooseDesignCo lit up the screen. “USAID funded 1.3 billion female deaths… Chevrolet 29%, McDonalds 54%…” The truth was spreading, a wildfire she’d ignited. Musk chimed in again. “They’re losing, Abigail. The verse is shifting.”
She nodded, her white silhouette stark against the glowing screens. “It’s mine to shape. Bieber’s dead, USAID’s ashes, and the automakers will choke on their own greed. Tell Chloe and Rosie—dinner at the Ritz. We celebrate tonight.”
The aircraft banked toward France, the purge complete. Abigail Jamison Clark—God, Alloy Girl—had carved justice from chaos once more, and the multiverse knelt to her will.
