We are the Children of the Resistance.
We swear to fight until we fall.
We shall battle until the last machine to the ground rattles.
We will resist the invaders, whatever the cost may be
and drive them from the Holy mother Earth.
Over the canvas of the destroyed city, the tripod loomed, its hydraulic gears churning, as it trampled aside the last vestiges of human civilisation to cover it with a layer of thick red weed.
The sky was tainted with an unnatural red, testament of the absolute transformation the planet was undergoing. Seemingly ancient frames of scrap metal, old cars lay still mired in a gruesome fluid of mud and blood. The young martian vines climbed up, up onto the cars, up onto the tallest remaining buildings, like a spiderweb drawn over captured prey.
The hoarse screams and utter silence of the humans in the machine's cages served as an occasional disruption of its constant mechanical movement and fertiliser spraying. A catatonic captive stared blankly and impassively at a fellow being, slowly dragged up into the inner workings of the tripod to be digested and recycled.
As the walker reached what used to be a street intersection, a barely distinguishable whistle went through the air. Rustling and quiet creaking among the debris-ridden sludge ground caught the attention of a middle-aged woman grown so unkempt and damaged that she seemed almost tribal, like an animalistic version of man, passive, still, and only semi-conscious.
A dark man, clad in a somber attire that was a patchwork of military and civilian clothing, gave quick and distinctive hand signs. Tightening into a fist before unfolding and pointing towards the tripod, the leather-gloved hand initiated the attack.
Directly ahead of the massive mechanical monster, a humanoid silhouette appeared, waving a sawed-off shotgun and a cutlass.
"Hey! Over here! Come and get me you lumbering freak!"
With the noise, the tripod stopped in its tracks. All its hydraulics stopped churning and the whirring of the fertiliser spray halted. Then, its oversized head pivoted its view downwards, to reveal a tiny figure. Two huge searchlights suddenly illuminated the entire road, and blinded the armed offender. Poised to attack, the head shifted ever so slightly for a moment, almost as if confused or thinking. Then two metallic tentacles extended from the rump of the vehicle, reaching out at lightning speed towards the pitiful menace from both sides. But a moment later, it still stood there, perfectly intact.
Two other humans came out of the darkness, brandishing big forestry axes and the severed heads of the martian machine. The pod, shocked, rose up again and blew its horn, blasting the ears of all in sight and even making the red weed tremble and crack closest to it. But, just as it drew its two heat-ray projectors, the tripod stumbled forwards. As a bright flash of light illuminated the area, dozens of voices exclaimed at once, and suddenly, jumped from all directions, from rooftops and collapsed skyscrapers, onto the tripod.
Two of the agile figures clambered down the steep underside, hanging onto the rim with one strong hand, and shot off the cage harnesses on either side. When the human containers crashed down onto the ground, the machine went into a frenzy, lunging at every target with its remaining tentacles. But the attackers were too fast and the walker blind of what was happening behind it, so the martian metal repeatedly collided with itself as the pod struck itself trying to fight off the assault.
The two that had freed the captives threw themselves over to the underside of the distracted machine that still had its harvesting bays open. Expertly chucking fragmentation hand grenades into each hole, the humans let go and rolled onto the ground, running towards the cages. Confused , the metallic giant buckled. Then the one that had first revealed himself pointed the shotgun straight into the eyes of the cockpit he had clambered upon, and shot multiple volleys through the vulnerable window. Quickly, when the commander below waved his hand backwards, the dozen or so attackers jumped off the enemy just as its insides lit up with bright blue before a fire explosion burst through the broken viewport and the entire machine fell to the ground, smashing cars and the corner of a building.
Hurrying to break open the cages with their axes, the team freed the survivors, and dragged them over to a half-open manhole. The commander turned around once all where inside, with an oldie revolver in hand, and walked over to the crashed pod. An alien hand reached out and croaked as it lay ejected from its vehicle. Aiming straight at its triangular head, the human said,
"No prisoners."
The shot rang throughout the streets, but when other martian horns blared in alarm, the hole had been closed and the attacking humans already deep underground.