DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stargate
Inspired by StarGate: Galactic Imperium » by VexMaster.
Then the fifth angel sounded, and I saw a star from heaven which had fallen to the earth; and the key of the bottomless pit was given to him. He opened the bottomless pit, and smoke went up out of the pit, like the smoke of a great furnace; and the sun and the air were darkened by the smoke of the pit. Then out of the smoke came locusts upon the earth, and power was given them, as the scorpions of the earth have power
Revelation 9:1-3
The Holy Bible
Chapter One
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
"Watch out, run!"
"Move, move out of the god dang way!"
"Get out of the way, bub!"
Screams…
Howls…
Screeches…
Alexander Reed stood at the edge of the sidewalk as what seemed like the entire population of White Plains surged past him, people on bicycles or cars and motorcycles fleeing with what little possessions they had. They were scared, like he was, and for good reason:
Earth was under attack.
It had happened so quickly, so suddenly, no one expected it all. The cities of New York, Chicago, Paris, Moscow, Madrid, Cairo, Beijing, Sydney, Lima, La Paz, Tehran, New Delhi, and a hundred others were already in flames when everyone realized what was going on to them. By the third hour of the attack, Skyscrapers had toppled, apartments exploded, bridges collapsed, and forests were consumed as pillars of black smoke speared the sky, fouling the air.
The nations of Earth, this Earth, wasted no time bickering amongst each other, hurling accusations and curses at each other, wasting precious minutes as their satellites and their few orbital defenses were shot down. The Hubble Telescope and International Space Station were the first to be destroyed.
The precious minutes, the precious hour the two hundred or so governments of Earth wasted, two countries had already launched missiles at each other. When the nature of the threat had been realized, and they tried to abort, it had already been too late: And so the cities of Bombay and Islamabad vanished under the plume of the raging fire of a mushroom cloud.
Alexander laughed, almost insanely as a man, a big beefy man that reeked of cow meat, pushed him to the side, wheezing as he tripped and smashed into a garbage can, spilling rotten milk and god know what over him. Alexander fell and cut his arm on a jagged piece of glass, ignoring the pain.
To him, pain was familiar, very familiar. As a bitter orphan and being rejected several times, being beat up by fellow orphans, being abused and ignored on the streets, and even arrested three times, he knew pain. It was an old friend. So was fury, fury and hate, the two emotions that kept him going.
He wiped the blood off on his shorts and curled up as people, less now, continued to run by him and the fat man, who was probably unconscious. Maybe he was dead-but he didn't really care.
The truth was that the attack originated in space, from the void of blackness where man had just begun to venture. Monsters, the same that children so wisely feared, had finally arrived to claim a new world for their own.
They had been astonished by the sheer number of sentient beings on a single plant, more than they could tame, and so to instill fear and control, more than 4 billion died in less than three hours. To say that the human population had been decimated would have been a lie: it was far worse for a single reason:
Because people continued to die, a hundred people with each passing minute, the once arrogant and prideful species of sentient, evolved, apes, being reduced to a mere shadow of it's former self.
Two F-15's, he guessed anyway since he didn't really know the difference between US aircraft (they all looked the same to him, shot over as a massive shadow descended from above. Alexander was mesmerized since the shadow was not a single shape, but of many hundreds of massive ships, like the 'boats' fro m Starship Trooper, dropped downwards from above.
Two went up in flames as missiles from the aircraft were fired, and another blew apart as they fired their chain guns and split up. Then, out of nowhere, a dozen craft, each like a sleek wing with a squashed cockpit in the middle, made a V-formation and spat out jets of fire, bullets.
The two American aircraft were easily shot down.
"Screw you!" Alexander screamed, giving the finger as the alien aircraft, because they had to be, dropped a series of bombs around him, blowing up buildings and killing people, blood running down the streets as limbs were thrown aimlessly, adding to the screams of horror and pain and death.
"Help me… please…"
"Ugh… mommy, where is mommy!"
"Please, please…"
"AAAHHHHHH!"
"The pain!"
Screams…
Howls…
Moans…
The usual.
Strangely, Alexander didn't really care about those people. Yeah, he wanted to throw up, cough out the violence that was going on, but that was all. He didn't really believe in a God, although he did have a cross necklace, but after his childhood, it felt good to see the same people who had ignored him, possibly abandoned him, get their just deserts, if a bit overkill.
Of course he felt bad for the kids who were probably dying right now, but he didn't see any and his life came first. If he died, he was dead. And to him, that was not acceptable at all.
This…
This had been four days ago.
Since then, he, Alexander Reed of 39 South Road, Greenburg, Westchester County of New York in the United States, was huddling underneath a box, eating a apple he had found in a tree.
He was skinny, and he was malnourished and tired. He felt so sick… but he was used to it. Not that used to it, but he was used to it. He wiped his mouth and coughed. He reached into his coat's pocket, a coat he had found while looking into the few houses on Jackson Street a day ago, and took out a cough drop.
He unrolled it and popped it into his mouth. Mmm… he liked this taste of orange, it was really good. "Now, if only I can find some goddamn water that doesn't have any blood or dirt in it. That would be a miracle in itself. So Jesus, if you are listening, how about a bottle of water?"
He looked around his little box.
He laughed.
"Yeah, why would you listen after all that you've caused us. I wonder how the Pope is, your 'messenger' or whatever. Is he dead yet, or something? Cause, you really are a son of a…" He stopped and felt angry, or frustrated. He almost called God… Christ, he wasn't a devote Christian, but to curse his name was really evil! "Sorry, but you are the worst. Really, why do this to us? We had enough issues on our hand. I mean, with the Economy, the North Korea Missile thing… speaking of, is Obama even alive? I wonder if you killed him off yet."
That was sad. Obama was a cool guy. He never met the man, but he and his family had voted for him. He thanked God, at the time, for being 18 when Obama ran for the office. He had even gone to D.C. to see him, and saw him and Biden, heard Obama swear himself in office.
Hell, he had even gotten two Obama T-Shirts. A waste of money, but he had wanted a souvenir. "Jesus, you really suck."
Click-cli-click-click-kkk-cl-ick-cl-ic-ccick…
He froze and closed the box flaps, breathing slowly as his eyes widened in terror at the inhuman clicks. He swallowed the cough drop without even realizing it, not caring that his apple had fallen to the floor. It was them… The aliens, the invaders, those big ugly monsters, the FREAKS!
In other words, bastards.
He heard their rough clicks, their native tongue, maybe two of three patrolling the area, looking for human survivors. He shivered, and felt a cough try to break out from within, but pushed it back. He did not want to be a captured human; he wanted to be a free human.
He remembered the first time he saw them, just several hours after the 'boats' had landed. Several police cops actually tried to fight them off, shooting with pistols and a most likely illegal M16 in the middle of the god dang streets. Really, he even he wasn't that stupid.
The invaders were oversized bugs, ironic since the Starship Trooper-like boats came from a movie where mankind was fighting a race of oversized bugs too. They looked like a cross between a giant and a scorpion. It had a ant's body, with four legs. The 'chest' was shaped like an S, with two arms at the sides, one with a Scorpion claw, and the other with a series of strange graspers, like tentacle-fingers.
He didn't know how to describe the ugly head.
To make a short story shorter, the cops got mauled, shot, eaten, and then what was left behind for the carrion, the crows. The bugs used guns too, giant guns that fired bullets too. He could have taken the guns from the dead cops, if the bugs hadn't taken them for themselves.
Click-cli-click-click-kkk-cl-ick-cl-ic-ccick…
Click-cli-click ick-cl-ic click-kkk-cl…
Cl-ick-kkk-cc-iic…
The clicks became more distant as, presumably since he couldn't see through the box, the bugs 'walked' away. He sighed in relief when he opened the box and saw that he was right. He wondered what he was going to do then. He had to find a house, one that didn't have a broken wall (every standing house was broken in half,) and he needed a weapon.
Any weapon, so long as it killed.
"Screw you too, you damn buggers," he spat, suddenly wishing he hadn't done that as a lash of pain struck his throat. "Ugh." He reached into his pocket and twirled another cough drop with his tongue. Didn't really help the pain, but it did taste good, and he was hungry.
He wanted revenge, he wanted payback against them. He wanted to live and to kill the evil. "God, if you are listening, please, please let me kill them. I will do anything to kill them; I will become the devil if I have to. Please, give me the tools to kill these inhuman sons-of-bi-"
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Alexander looked out his box as a fireball from sky, a strange green wisp behind it, raced towards his little box-home. Alexander cursed. "Oh come on! I just found the box!"
Then he ran out and jumped behind the only piece of cover he could find: A Lamp Post.
