A/N: Just an idea I've been brewing up for a while. Let me know if you want to see more past Chapter 1 and I'll work on it.
Elizabeth watched in horror as the skyscraper came down, roaring mechanically as it did. It had been gutted by a vertical white beam projected from the ship above, and cut through the 300 floors of the tower with laughable ease, burning through the supports and making the tower lurch over and fall. She ran down the corridor of her block of flats, darting past onlookers that shared her shocked expression, turning the corner towards the lifts before hitting something hard and collapsing onto her back.
"Why are you still up here?" Her Father yelled above the mutterings of the people nearby and the roaring of the dying building opposite them, "We've got to get out, Lizzie! Come on!" He gripped her hand and dragged her along, ignoring her yells of "Dad!" and "Let go of me!" as he began to hammer frantically on the panel. 26. That was their floor. 26 floors down was their only hope of escape.
She glared up at her Father, about to argue against his squeezing grip, when she saw the desperation in his wide, teary eyes. He had lost another child just five years ago. Elizabeth's brother, Adam, had passed away at the age of 6 from natural causes. She was only 12 at the time, and it had hit her hard. She wondered if her Father felt any worse, and a wave of guilt overcame her. She looked down at his trembling lips and hugged him tightly, and the lift was devoid of sound save for the out-of-place chimes of the lift music in the background.
When the bell was rung and the two silver doors slowly screeched open, the duo entered the large gathering of trembling and nervous people that had filled the entrance hall to the block in its entirety. It was a beautiful hall; the carpets were clean-cut and crimson, and the walls were lined with different paintings of varying eras – a wave of abstract art on the left wall, and an excruciatingly detailed portrait of a figure she saw on the right caught Elizabeth's eye. She looked forward out of the tall rectangular windows that were three metres high and two metres long, out at the mauled and dying tower.
It was halfway down now, collapsed at a sharp angle to the left, and with each passing second another jet of dust and debris would expand in a thick cloud in every direction, accompanied by the deep mechanical groans of the skyscraper and the fits of coughing of those caught in the clouds. Stood on the sides of the fountain that marked the centre of the great hall were three soldiers in Marine uniform, barking the same general orders that their comrades had barked on another hundred worlds beforehand – "Stay calm", "Do exactly as we say and you'll be alright", "It's nothing to worry about, don't panic!"
Elizabeth was paying no attention to them, but rather they comrades that stood outside on the cracked marble steps that led into the car park. They were hurriedly packing crates, presumably supplies and food, onto their trio of armoured buggies – Warthogs, she thought they were called – when one of them looked to another marine, bashing him on the head and pointing up in shock. A crackling streak of blue came in from the left and fell down upon one of the buggies, melting through its mid-section and leaving only the bonnet and boot remaining, the vehicle's turret charred black with one of its armoured plates removed. Led by it were the two marines from before, entirely black save for the odd red and white where untouched flesh and bone were visible.
The crowd wailed in horror together in unison, their muffled mutterings turning to outward fright as their barged past the three marines ahead of them. Elizabeth and her Father were pushed along as the field of shoving, barging and yelling was funnelled through the two sets of double-doors and onto the patio outside. Elizabeth saw nothing of the marines, but to her left she heard the crackle of gunfire, the screams of desperate orders, the roars and barks of something inhuman, and the wails of pain and agony.
The herd had dispersed now, like a pack of gazelle startled by a lion, and they were running frantically down the road to the right, presumably away from whatever was presently trying to murder them. Elizabeth's Father took her to one side, forcing her against the wall with his two broad palms over her shoulders and mumbling to her quietly.
"We're going to run, ok? We're going over the bridge, to the spaceport." He muttered. She nodded, "And whatever you do, do not stop – not for me, not for anybody out there. You worry about you first, do you understand?" She nodded again, gulping heavily. Her Father responded in kind.
Then they ran. There must've been hundreds of them on that road that day. The duo stumbled over rubble and bodies – dead and alive – while all around them people yelled to each other. Elizabeth's head darted to her right as one such yell rang out – someone was on the floor, crying. A middle aged man. It looked like William Schlafer from next-door. He was clutching his leg tightly, a batch of flesh exposed on his right thigh. He stood up and began to stumble along with the crowd when a small green orb erupted through his chest. He stood there staring at the cauterizing wound for a moment, before his head fell forwards and he collapsed.
Elizabeth blinked at the corpse, unsure of how to respond. She was brought to her senses when her Father tapped her hard and made her stumble. "Come on! Keep running!" He pointed to the arching bridge, held up by large red supports that shimmered proudly in the autumn sun. It was less than 100 metres away, but the path was littered with rubble, smears of blood and scorch marks. She continued to run, her Father just ahead of her, until she made it over the bridge.
Elizabeth stopped at the end of the bridge on the other side, a green blob narrowly missing her, where she bent over to catch her breath. Her jeans were ripped by the sharp, angular rubble and her ankle was bleeding, but she didn't feel it. She sat down, scanning over the hundreds of people who had yet to make it across. They were all stood, staring up at the skyscraper, as if moths transfixed by a lightbulb. Why aren't they running? She thought to herself, as she began to panic in empathy. Come on! Run you idiots! Run!
"Look…" her Father muttered, as if reading her thoughts. He pointed to a large beetle-like construct that was scaling the angled remains of the skyscraper. It roared mechanically, swaying a robotic head which began to glow, emitting a dim green light from its 'eye'. A beam ejected itself from the head after a moment of charging, gutting the cadaver of the skyscraper once more. It was enough to send the skyscraper flat onto its side… right on top of all of those people… The muffled screams lasted for a few seconds, but all Elizabeth saw before the dust fell like a mist was the crowd trying, in vain, to escape. Not a single one made it out. The great beetle chirped to itself, apparently pleased with its performance, and crawled off into the corridor of buildings behind the crater where the skyscraper had made its last stand, escaping from Elizabeth's view.
The 17-year-old slumped to the ground, sitting on a rough, angular plate from the fallen building. Her lips trembled and her vision blurred as her eyes began to drip tears down her cheeks. Her Father sat down by her, his neon orange football shirt a similar picture to her aqua-blue jeans, and he held her in his embrace, where she began to sob deeply.
"We were meant to start college next week… "She mumbled, "Ashley and Bradley from Floor 12… they were starting too..." she struggled to speak, hiccupping to try and fight back her sobbing. "Now… they're… they're…" She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face behind them.
"It's not far to the spaceport now," he murmured, looking up at the weary clusters of people who were mourning in similar fashion, "Come on, if we get there we'll be safe. That's what the marine said."
She nodded slowly, and they both stood weakly in unison, making their way down one of the myriad of roads that made up the labyrinthine Old Sector of Arcadia City. The line of buildings on either side of the road were largely undamaged, in stark contrast to the residential sector behind them, and as they looked back – which they did repeatedly as they fought with their own disbelief - they saw great plumes of smoke rising high above the tops of buildings and disappearing into the clouds. The dim noises of battle were still present, the crackling of bullets and the pulse of whatever weapons the invaders were using. On one occasion, a flash of green could be seen, painted on the sides of buildings, presumably from the giant vehicle. A roar would follow this event, though its maker was always out of view.
They walked for several minutes down the roads, all but alone. The buildings nearby at been evacuated first, so the Old Sector looked like the backdrop to a cliché horror film. Any moment now, Elizabeth was certain, some evil monster would turn the corner and viciously attack them, perhaps with bloodied teeth or claws. Who knows? She muttered to herself, perhaps getting murdered by Draculas is nicer than having to face whatever these are.
No such moment came until 20 minutes later. Father and daughter were resting at the entrance to a small shop, having raided it for whatever they could carry. She was chowing down on a chicken sandwich whilst her Father stroked his neatly-trimmed grey stubble, his strong turquoise eyes examining a Coca-Cola grimly. His sharp expressions were deeply worn, and the large eyes which he normally wielded with compassion and warmth were weighed down by the man's fatigue.
They were finishing their scavenged meals when a loud footstep echoed through the stillness of the evening air. The man hastily pocketed his drink, darting to a cobblestone pillar which held up the shop's overhang and glancing out.
"It's one of them!" He hissed quietly, "Get inside, now. Go through the back door, I'll follow you out."
"That's stupid! You'll die!" She stood upright, glaring at a single two-pronged foot which was less than 10 metres away. It turned to face the shop, before landing closer. "Oh shit…" she muttered. She'd been too loud. Idiot.
The man peered around the corner again, his eyes returning to meet her gaze with resolution. "Fuck. Right, do what I say. I'll buy you time." He narrowed his eyes before she got the chance to argue, darting around the corner with a mad war-cry, and Elizabeth scurried into the shop. She darted behind a counter, weighed down by grief, but she couldn't reveal it now. She looked up from behind a packet of Haribo's, seeing a tall, stocky and inhuman figure blocking off the doorway and casting the shop in shadow. Her father didn't even last 5 seconds.
She bit her lip to stop her from breaking down, turning and hugging the counter as she slid herself towards the bright-green door labelled "FIRE EXIT" on the other side of the room. She froze at the edge of the counter, feeling a jet of warm air behind her neck. In horror she turned, seeing nothing but a double-edged blade of light cleaving clean through the plastic of the counter, showering the floor in confections. She yelped loudly as the sword-bearer gazed around the corner, staring at her with beady, hate-filled, reptilian eyes. It roared as it charged at her, knocking over items of food as it went with a loud clatter.
Elizabeth screamed again and ran. She ran through the fire escape, down a dark, litter-clogged alley and out into a large motorway that was blockaded on either side with abandoned and ruined vehicles, dotted with the corpses of their drivers. Her head darted around, seeing no way of escape, and she began to break down. The creature's footsteps grew closer as he approached from behind. She turned around to face the beast, a hulking brute of a creature clad in brilliant golden armour, hiding the evil that lurked below. It was in no rush to kill its prey – it approached her on back-bent legs with a certain complacency and arrogance, glowing sword in-hand, when streak of white whistled past Elizabeth's ear and the creature gripped its neck in shock. It collapsed in a loud "THUMP", purple goop oozing through its 4-fingered hand and onto the cold tarmac below.
She turned around to identify her saviour; a short, stocky figure, well-dressed in a completely black suit. He was resting his left arm on a sniper rifle, and he grinned at the young woman through thick black spectacles.
"Greetings, my dear. I am Edmund! Would you like to get out of here?" He enquired cheerfully, his grin extending as he did.
Elizabeth shivered and, seeing no other available option, complied. He guided her to her salvation – a black-plated gunship, just over 30 metres long, with an image engraved on the side of the craft, just behind the cockpit; that of a black-and-white triangle against a circular, similarly coloured background. It was sparkling and unscarred, untouched by the aliens that invaded Arcadia. The pilot gave a hearty wave as the man and his accomplice boarded. Elizabeth sat opposite Edmund in the troop bay, and as the pelican roared, its engines kicking into action and spreading a wave of dust and smoke over the road, all she could do was cry.