The Abyss: A Custom Think Tank

Robotech brains parallel a Xeno-dragon invasion for a customs-leviathan cream featuring a 'light' for simplified ocean contract.

A fun Summer crossover-fanfiction blending Robotech and Alien. Thanks for reading, 

----

====

MAX STERLING: The universe is rich with invasion/terrorist imagery (already!).

RICK HUNTER: Robotech-force duty requires readings of any leviathan, friend.

MAX STERLING: What does Lisa Hayes make of all this abominable alien-media?

RICK HUNTER: Seems we've found bread/fruit for exile-agenda to evade Hell.

MAX STERLING: If these Xenomorph-aliens need exile, we'll propose ocean-abyss.

RICK HUNTER: Why not...we already have uncategorized giant squid down there?

MAX STERLING: We'll have to propose some 'UFO' distance IQ for 'social' residence.

RICK HUNTER: Be wary...these dragon Xenomorphs are nihilists; no cinema-cleats.

MAX STERLING: Good (leviathan...Selfie-like).

XENOMORPH MONARCH: You dare to offer self-exile to the ocean-abyss (now)?

LISA HAYES: This is a chess-stalemate goodie; and it's Robotech-signature, dragon!

XENOMORPH MONARCH: Well, we make wage your cohorts aren't nihilism-pals.

LISA HAYES: You said it, you dragon; this is a space-distances residence assurance!

XENOMORPH MONARCH: Fine...seems we've made marks for 'cartoon' sanity.

LISA HAYES: Stay in that ocean-abyss; enjoy Internet/TV; keep clear of Robotech!

XENOMORPH MONARCH: Since the language's adjective-free, it's 'sound' cinema.

LISA HAYES: Good (leviathan...Selfie-like).

MAX: I can't believe it's not butter.

LISA: Don't make it a light-adjective, Mas Sterling my dear.

MAX: Perchance this ocean-abyss distance from the Xeno-dragons is clear then.

LISA: It is; perchance we've made for blending of space-with-leviathan, dear.

MAX: You're right, Lisa; I recount the glory-days albums of Samhain/Halloween.

LISA: Well, there's giant-squid in that ocean-abyss...and now Xenomorphs (wow).

MAX: Let's get Bonnie and Clyde on Netflix (maybe those Xenos are doing similar).

LISA: Good (leviathan...Selfie-like!).

RICK HUNTER: I placed one of those nihilist-dragons in a lead-pit in a factory!
GENERAL MORPHEUS: They're hardly space-pilot beer-folk, those Xenomorphs, ok.

RICK HUNTER: Max/Lisa offered the right adverbs for this line for football, sir.

GENERAL MORPHEUS: You and Max have become Robotech-captaincy, laureled.

RICK HUNTER: All's 'fare' in love and leviathan, for a Robotech-Xenomorph game.

GENERAL MORPHEUS: Selfie-like (ok).

Max and Lisa got married, and Rick prepared a nice cyber-storyboard for that landmark contract reached between those nihilist Xeno-dragon aliens/invaders who'd otherwise have turned our Blue-Planet into a death-field for dark science, and post-exile of the aliens to an ocean-abyss, General Morpheus announced Robotech's proud new bureau to perfect marketing for collected Earth-treasures/stones/minerals like opals and diamonds for a capitalism-arms dodecahedron (for the Ego!).

Max and Lisa had a son (Damian) and encouraged him to build a 'classic-age' transit hotel (Inn-Express), which he did; and it flourished, in a new era place called British Columbia, where coffee and creamy-doughnuts made for the languages of forgetting dragons and looking to the past of Super Bowl hotel-lounge TV amenities of capitalism's best feature --- simplified 'view' cleats for the leviathan (sure).

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

====

"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)