"Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world." — William B. Yeats
I have always loved Yeats. The words are cold, hard prose. Not enmeshed in flowery phrases of happiness, and false love. Just a simple statement of how badly things suck. How badly things needed to be changed. Amist a world filled with debates over greenhouse gases, world hunger, and genocidal conflict... nobody bothered to watch the skies. At least, not until it was too late.
But that has always been the soldier side of me. Since my first day at boot camp, hustled off the buses onto the infamous yellow footprints of Paris Island, I learned quickly to say things honestly, bluntly and most importantly, in as few words as possible. Which, I can appreciate in the invaders. No contact. Just devastation.
The lack of contact should have been the government's first clue. But as it is with all people in power, they ignored what lay in front of their faces. Our demons had finally become reality, and Armageddon had come calling.
Every sci fi writer has dreams about first contact. Ideally, the technological race sees something simplistic yet wonderful in our war like race. They take us under their wings, and usher us along, kicking and screaming, into the future of humanity, where we take our rightful place as leaders of the galactic community. Well.... you can forget about ET, Flight of the Navigator, or any of those fluffy, happy, hand holding first contact scenarios. Our true first contact came when the second cav got melted into so much slag at one of the drops sites.
Things just got worse from there.
Again, I think Yeats said it best.
"The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;"
That would be about as accurate as it gets.
First it was 200,000 dead in the first hour.
Then 1,000,000 in the first day.
2,000,000 by the end of the second day.
And then the world started fighting back.
Or at the very least, I did.
My family was in the Las Vegas drop zone. To this very day, I have no clue why they came calling to our significant little patch of desert. The only thing I can think of, is all the rumors about Area 51 are true. Unfortunately theres not really anyone to ask. Washington got turned into a noxious cloud about forty five minutes before the "hunchbacks" dropship hit dirt.
Hunchbacks, aren't really a good name for them. Its just one that stuck with me, from the first moment I saw them. I had been working as a paramedic in Vegas for about six years. My partner and I, were sitting on the corner of the Blvd and Flamingo when our dispatcher told us to be ready for a mass casualty scenario. Honestly, I don't think anyone was really prepared for what happened next. How could you be?
The dropship hit the dirt.
And out poured thousands of hunchback demons.
The entire footage lasted about ten minutes. And for those ten minutes, we were treated to the sights of people being charred into so much meat where they stood. And we watched, completely enraptured... until the broadcast antennas took a stray energy hit, mercifully bringing the carnage to a halt. At least, on our little portable television.
My partner looked at me, and slammed the truck into drive. Lights and sirens, as we weaved through clogged traffic in some frantic race to get back to his house. Back to his wife. Back to his kids. We got there alright. But so did the hunchbacks.
His wife died trying to protect the kids.
The kids died trying to get to dad.
He died trying to get to them.
It was, I suppose, strangely poetic. At least, until I noticed the city was burning.
Smoke seared through my nostrils, tickled the back of my throat, coating it with the noxious odor of charred meat, wood, plastic, and metal. I swear to god it seemed like the whole world was on fire and I had the fortune of standing square in the middle of it.
But the smoke in and of itself was also a blessing. Cover for the few ghosts that had courage to move through it. Equipment, weapons, all for the taking if you had enough courage to brave the demons.
I had seen a few of us get caught. It wasn't pleasant. The rest of us learned how to be quiet. Or we learned how to be dead. Which is how I wound up on top of the world famous Stardust hotel.
When times where simpler, I would have trolled for chicks in this area. Ah, those sweet delectable tourists with their oh-so-white legs, and skimpy clothing. What happens in vegas....
I had to smile as I stroked the butt of my Barrett 95. Appropriated from the local gun store, we had become fast friends. A little trial and error smoothed out the bumpiest of our moments together, and led us to one of our favorite spots for demon hunting.
The strip.
Everyone eventually comes to the Las Vegas Strip. Even Demons.
Leaning slightly forward, I rested my cheek against the cool metal. The sight was some Bors model that had been attached already, which I thanked god for every day... since the manual reads like stereo instructions.
The cross hairs settled onto one the "hunchbacks". Comms had gone out pretty early on in the invasion, so there hadn't really been any information about what was going on, and why. Aliens... demon... the second coming of Barney....
At this point, it was all immaterial anyways. My little hunchback was here. I was here. God. Fate. Whatever, had conspired to put us on intersecting paths. Far be it from me to argue with a higher power.
My finger caressed the trigger.
The "Hunchbacks" head exploded.
And a warm fuzzy feeling slipped inside of me.
At least until coherent light slammed into the building around me.
"Whoopsie" I muttered in falsetto. "Didn't like that, did ya?"
I laughed softly, as the window frame turned a cherry red, and began to run down the side of the building in rivulets.
Definably time to go.
Snatching the rifle by its handle, I made a quick right turn out of the hotel room, and beat feet down the hallway. Behind me, the screams of stressed metal protested my hasty departure.
"Somebodies not gettin' their deposit back." I muttered to myself, slamming bodily through the fire exit and taking the stairs three at a time. I had an escape route in mind. Always do. My escape route, however, did not include the three "hunchbacks" at the bottom of the stairwell, awkwardly trying to make their way up.
"Not good." I said to no one in particular, and spun a quick about face that would have made my drill instructor proud.
No matter what anyone tells you, going up is never as easy as going down. Especially not when horrific demons are spitting bolts of destructive light at your feet. You will, however, find, much as I did, that it does wonders for putting a sense of purpose in you. I think I made twenty flights in about six minutes.
The rooftop door gave way easily under my shoulder, as I sprinted towards the end of the building......
.... and came up slightly short as gigantic metal flying machine hovered up over the edge. First look made me think of the unmanned predators the Air Force used..... with a minor bit of attitude... and a whole lot more weapons.
"Not good." I whispered, and dropped to my belly.
Ironic the things that wind up saving your life. My instinct to sight my rifle, dropped me below its sights. The hunchback behind me, however, where not quite so lucky. Time slowed into an eternal second... as it invariably always does, in combat.
The rifle snugged into my shoulder as my body bounced once on the roof. Slugs from the flier slammed into the three hunchbacks behind me, showering me in gore and a few stray entrails.... The scope lined up with the only thing that looked even remotely delicate on the whole thing.... and my finger stroked the trigger.
A fifty cal bullet is nothing to laugh at.
apparently, even for demons from another planet.
The round slammed into the faceplate of the flier.....
The engines sputtered once, as it dropped below my sight.
The roar of the explosion rocked the entire building.
And I noticed the most peculiar smell of roasted dog.
A quick check of body parts let me know I had survived. If, by a somewhat slimmer margin than I normally shoot for. That was when I heard the sweetest sound in the world. The steady thump of choppers in the air.
I stood on the rooftop, watching as the pilot maneuvered the bird onto the rooftop. His two gunships took up station around the building. The man who jumped down to the rooftop had the oddest uniform on, but there was no mistaking the air of command as he strode over to me.
"I see you've met the bane, son." He nodded at the hunchbacks on the ground.
The name seemed so very appropriate. Bane.
"As you can see, we are in a little bit of trouble." He spoke softly, "The time is coming when we will have to leave Earth for a while."
The words hit home. A punch to the stomach. My mom. My little sister. Missing. Presumed. But possibly alive.
"What about..." I couldn't finish.
He shook his head softly. "As many as we can. I promise."
I nodded. Tears came unbidden.
"Its time to go." He ushered me to the Blackhawk.
That was six months ago. Six months, when I left behind my home. My family. My friends. I took my guilt with me, though. Plenty of guilt. It fuels my rage. Rage for what I lost. Rage for my fifteen year old little sister that will never get to have her own family. Rage, at why a thirty two year old nobody like me, was saved.
Yeah, I fight the bane. But thats secondary.
I mean to exterminate them.
Every. Last. One.
"Be resolute, fear no sacrifice, and surmount every difficulty to win victory."
Author: Quark
Orion Server