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Start Ups The Storm

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@AlphaMouse; @Reece; @Polkadot Jolteon; Sorry for the wait you guys, I got caught up in something else. Anyway, here it is!

Invasion Pt. One:The Storm

Why us? I thought as I stood looking out what was once a large window over looking the lake from a third floor hotel room. Of every planet in the known universe, they chose Earth. Why? They said that they had come in peace, that they were just visiting. They said that the guns were just for show. They had lied. They had their forces in orbit, waiting for the attack order.

I watched in horror as a cone shaped metallic ship flew through the sky, spotlights dousing the lake in light. It was a hunter’s ship, which meant that someone had escaped, yet again. I sighed and sat down, hanging my legs over the edge of what used to be the window frame. It was useless trying to fight back, unless you had the numbers, and nobody that I knew of did. I wanted to fight, but I needed weapons, more people, and a plan. None of which I had.

I jumped and one of the alien officers broke the door down. I turned to face the officer. His gray, misshapen face looked badly scarred and his pig-like nose only added to the effect.

“Get up!” he said curtly. “You’re being move to a new facility in England. Orders from the higher-ups.”

“England?” I asked, wondering. “Why England?” He marched towards me, and grabbed my shirt collar. He yanked upward, and shoved me towards the door. That’s fine, I thought. England has tons of activists…
 
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Erus crouched behind a rock. So long as he hid well, he would remain anonymous. And invisible. He preferred the latter. Interestingly, at the exact same moment as a prisoner in the US, he thought the same thought. Why Earth? It was a question he had asked himself a great many times. Minerals? No, there are dead planets rich in everything Earth had. Slavery? Nope, if they have spaceships, they have robots. Migration? Terraform a dead planet.

The problem he had always considered was this: humans were practically ants to them, and so surely it should be their biggest worry that they would simply be paved over because they weren't watching where they were going. So why a full-scale invasion? Nobody bent down and offered sequins to ants, nor took over their hill.

It's a conundrum, he thought exasperatedly.
 
St Catharine's Hill. Michael crouched in the dirt, fully camo'd up, in his combat jacket and trousers. He knew that the aliens had heat sensors, and he had done all that he could. He had covered himself in mud, hidden inside his camo tent, and stayed as still as he could. One of the aliens was pacing slowly up the hill, gasping from the exertion. His SA-80 was next to him, cocked, loaded. All he'd need would be one shot, but that shot would echo through the whole countryside. Then there was the Bowie knife. He'd have to get close, and be precise, but it was possible.

OOC: What's the killability of these things?
 
OOC: They wear armored space suits similar to the sontarons from Doctor Who, but without the helmet. A head shot would be an almost definite kill, but otherwise, a chink in the armor would do it, as their flesh is thin.

They had put a laser handcuff set around my wrists, and brought me out onto a tramac to wait for the next available transport ship. Interesting, I thought. You would think that an alien civilization advanced enough to travel across space could set up a rudimentary teleportation device... I was jolted out of my thoughts by the sound of one of their cone-ship's landing gear smacking down of the asphalt. I looked at the alien holding my arm. He was about a foot and a half taller than me, and a lot bigger. He made a noise that sounded like a grunt and a snort mixed together as one. I looked back at the cone, which was now lowering stairs from what was once a seamless sheet of metal. The alien pushed me forward with his arm on my shoulder. I moved towards the stairs, and looked to either side of me. I saw a few other prisoners being brought down the runway, and then looked back at the ailen. He shoved me forward, and I tripped on the steps.

"Watch where you're going," he chuckled.
 
The alien approached, having not yet seen Michael. He crouched down, crawling right up to the precipise of the steep hill. He took a deep breath, holding it as the creature's head appeared in view. He braced, ready to leap. He had to choose his moment well. He eyed the weapon in the alien's hand, thinking carefully about the leap. He jumped, wrapping his arms around the alien so that they fell together. As they reached the trench five metres down the hill he drew the Bowie Knife. The alien was on the floor, and his gun at the top of the hill. Michael plunged the Bowie Knife into the creature's eye, feeling it shudder beneath him.

He collapsed onto the ground next to the alien. He had just killed a sentient being, as intelligent as him. That alien might have had a mother, a wife, children. He shook himself. No. That alien was one of the enemy. It might have been the one that had broken the door down to his Portsmouth house and killed his family while he was out on exercise. He took the Bowie Knife, wiping it in the grass. He'd need to hide the body, preferably bury it. Now he had one of their weapons. Now he was dangerous.
 
I had been running for days, through forests, across the moors, in ditches next to the motorways. You see, when the attack started, I was on the outskirts of London, in a rural village. From there it was easy to get away unnoticed. I had rode my motorbike out of the rural sector, and towards the south when it got a puncture. I had to leave it and carry on foot. I'd ran along the motorway, then had to jump to the side to avoid being spotted by a scout ship. I'd carried on in the ditch for a while, before coming to the moors and forests. I'd gone into the forest with the intention of getting to the port at the other side, but the forest felt so safe that I had been there for 3 days.
 
I was being marched down the corridor of the plane, preceded by many other prisoners. I was the last one, and I was sure of it. My guard was the only one, and he had only one weapon, and no way to sound the alarm. I looked back at him, and he seemed to be lost in some sort of a day dream. i stopped, and he walked into.

"Walk!" he commanded, and proceeded to enter his dream-like trance once again. I whirled around, wrapping my hands around the barrel of the weapon. I twisted hard and fast, pulling the weapon from the alien's hands. I turned the over-sized weapon and fired it, disintegrating a large hole through the guard's chest. He crumpled to the floor, no blood leaving his cauterized wound.
 
Erus, despite his stolen sword, was a slight pacifist. The last thing he wanted to engage in was active combat. Which led him to consider the many ways in which he had gotten himself involved in exactly that. Possibly walking into the alien's sight line with his sword in a visible position, right out of the place it was meant to be guarding, was not the best place to start.

He used the mirror-like surface to deflect what was apparently a laser as he rushed at the creature and rammed the butt of the hilt right into its piggy nose, knocking it over. He could have easily killed the thing and took its weapons. He didn't. Instead, Erus fled, leaving the unconscious extraterrestrial as the only trace he was ever even there. He hurried into the forest, literally bumping into a man as he went @Reece;). "A fugitive, I take it?" he asked.
 
"Who? Wha?Oh, you're not one of them." Reece said as he unclenched his fists. "I'm Reece, not a refugee, I'm just wondering what to do. I'm on my own, literally, I don't have anyone to attempt to save, or to find, so it's just me" he said with a grin on his face. "who are you?"
 
"I'm Erus. I'm in the same situation, but armed. Would prefer not to be."
 
Michael looked out over the valley. He was armed now, he had power. He should find people, create a force, but he had no idea where to look. The road would be the best place.
 
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