The day we transported the British Museum, twenty thousand humans spilled out of the Underground and took to London’s streets in protest. In their hands—humans possess only two, but still manage to use them quite effectively—they carried all manner of inventive signs: “You Can’t Spell Earth Without Art,” “My Heart Belongs to the British Museum,” “Our History Should be Grounded in Our Soil,” and “Earth Should Brexit the Alien Pact.”

The world was ending, yet instead of taking a last stand against the winged beastlings, Quintessence insisted on visiting every single women’s restroom in the city.

As they dashed towards the mall, Quin funneled energy through a bead in her necklace. A translucent, 3D map of the building appeared before her. “Keep them off us!” she shouted.

Hoshi ran her trembling fingers through her blue hair, trying to maintain calm. Then she did as her master commanded. She drew energy through the ground, into her feet. She passed it lightly through her body and blasted streaks of blue light through the sky, destroying several pockets of the locusts. Yet the sky grew darker with their millions of bodies.