The three adults look up the street where a third alien collapses from an alleyway. A new, comparatively-tiny figure stumbles out into the open. This figure is almost definitely human, but looks like some kind of comic book superhero. His outfit is white and appears to be armored or padded, and it is trimmed with gold. He has a long, flowing cape, tattered, charred, and stained with many colors. A mask obscures his face; virtually featureless save for 5 slits for each eye, and gold patterns are buried under blood and black scoring.
The figure staggers like he’s inebriated or dazed. He clutches his head, and Hancock can see the golden gauntlet on his right forearm with strange rings turning around it like clockwork.
The alien soldiers roar in what’s pretty easy to guess is rage. They bull-rush towards the dazed man. He barely registers their presence until it’s too late. Hancock’s heart tightens on the realization that he was just granted only a few seconds’ respite, and he can’t even look at Kenzie one last time. He simply stares stupidly at the fool about to die instead of the first girl who’s ever kissed him.
The slaughter that follows, however, is far from an uneventful killing. In a startled glance, the dazed man looks up. The first alien is already swinging its strange sword like a machete. The human contorts back, narrowly avoiding the vicious swing. His arms, on the other hand, do not miss the alien’s bulky tree-trunk of an arm, swooping around the armored limb at the wrist. The wrist is not the intended target, though.
In a move too quick to fully process, the human wrenches as he pivots under the alien’s arm. He swoops out on the other side as the alien’s momentum carries it a little further in a stumble. In the human’s hands is the strange tuning fork device, but the ‘blade’ has flickered out. The second alien roars as it stops, viciously swinging downwards at the human.
He is too quick, feigning left to telegraph the alien that way, before his body catapults right, avoiding the cleaving slash. This puts the human in front of the alien with its head lowered from the power of its swing. The human swings upwards powerfully with a double-axe-handle. The blow shatters the weapon, but the alien’s head flops back, and its whole body lurches back in a topple. The alien crashes calamitously backwards over a car, tumbling out of the fight for at least a moment.
The alien tuning fork glows from its damage, and the first alien dives away. The human tries to throw the damaged weapon, but it explodes in a fiery blue flash, knocking the mask from his face and shredding his cheek with shrapnel.
Once again dazed, the human only barely remembers where he’s at, and he dives for cover behind a car. The alien storms up onto the car as the human snatches a human rifle. The mysterious human is fast though, and kicks nimbly into a dive behind the alien as it tries to track. Without even a steady target, the human bursts the rifle, damaging the back of the alien’s armor. Sparks fly, and the alien roars in surprise.
The superhero-dressed warrior, definitely human by his freshly injured face and red blood, doesn’t revel in the alien’s surprise. Surprise is usually quickly replaced by anger.
Several bursts of rifle fire erupt from different spots in the street. The three marines, having come to their senses; Fisher, Dumas, and Fredericks, fire in a steady hammering rhythm of shots.
This time, the alien doesn’t just take it. It howls, instinctively trying to shield its face. The cosplayer scrambles up, ignoring the marines shooting as he leaps up to grab the alien’s ranged weapon. He acrobatically dangles from its firing end, curving his legs up for leverage to rip the weapon away. The strange warrior tumbles free of the alien, toppling on the car and smacking the ground. The alien falls like a cut tree, slamming backwards onto another abandoned car, crumpling its roof.
The second alien, in the meantime, has recovered to its feet. It does little good, though. The cosplayer manages to fire the alien weapon, belching a scorching firebolt that stumbles the creature. Sergeant Grey, not one to conserve bullets, fires his shotgun as quickly as he can cycle the pump into the alien’s back. The alien cries out, surprisingly pathetically given how sadistic and brutal they could be moments prior.
The second alien topples, especially after the other three marines join in firing. As the dust settles, the strange human warrior sprawls out on the ground, finally catching his breath. Fredericks, Dumas, and Fisher cautiously circle around him, fresh magazines in their rifles. They hold aim on him. When he notices them, he quickly exclaims, “Don’t shoot! Please!”
“Who are you!?” barks Fisher. “How the hell did you know how to kill them!?”
The man replies, “I… I don’t know! I swear!”
“Who are you!?” roars the marine.
“I DON’T know!” exclaims the man frantically. “I… I can’t remember… anything.”
Fisher glances at Dumas, and the two glance back at Sergeant Grey. Hancock knows that many marines are taught, “The enemy of my enemy is only my friend until that enemy is dead.” And, too many learned that the hard way.
Sergeant Grey coughs. He asks, “Whatcha think, Little Bird? Good guy or bad guy?” The sniffling girl tries to bury her face in Kenzie’s chest. Grey remarks, “Yeah… I think so too. Help me up, marines. He just killed three of the crocs. I imagine he’d already have been done with us.”
Hancock cautiously helps Sergeant Grey to his feet. The sergeant’s leg took the hit, revealing blistered and charred flesh on his ankle. He says dryly, “Rookie, I get that you’re scared, but your bullets aren’t doing any good weighing your gun down.”
Hancock shamefully murmurs, “I… I know, Sergeant.”
The other three marines regroup with Hancock and Grey. Fisher asks, “Do we keep going?”
Grey nods as he gestures his hand impatiently at Dumas, still chewing on his cigar, “Hell yeah, marine. Me and the Rookie got hot dates tonight. We’re getting off this turd.”
Dumas remarks skeptically, “If this guy CAN kill the aliens, can’t we fight them off?”
“Vanguard,” blurts out the mystery man from nearby. “No invasion starts without one.”
“And just how do you know that, Mr. ‘I can’t remember’?” asks Fisher caustically.
The mystery man fidgets with the strange device on his arm, replying, “I… don’t know. I just… I do.”
Grey replies, “He’s right. They’re testing our defense.” He nods at the mysterious man, “Hey Stranger; you’re at least human, right?”
“I… I think so?”
“Whatever. Way I see it, we’re not gonna make it back to our base alive. You get us there, and we’ll all get the heck out of here.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Sergeant…”
“Killin’ aliens and not killin’ humans. Pretty darn good start to me.”
The mystery man nods. Grey coughs, wincing from his pain. He replies warmly, though, “Good. Let’s move marines. Rookie, carry Little Bird. Stranger,” Grey limps to Dumas, the other most injured, and they support each other. Grey finishes, “If you can remember anyone –ANYONE-, we’ll go get them.”
The stranger shakes his head. “I can’t explain why, but… I think my family… They’re waiting for me already… All I have left is this.” He looks at the golden device on his arm. The rings aren’t moving right now, but he says calmly, “She… whoever she is… is waiting for me.”
There’s a quiet, respectful pause. The squad simply moves on, not pressing further for now. They reload weapons and begin navigating the streets and alleys. The chaos is still going on around them, booming in the distance. The screams rise and fall in a tune-less melody, haunting Hancock.
Little Bird holds him tightly as he carries her. She’s quieter, having lost a lot of her energy, but she’s still crying. He thinks he understands why Sergeant Grey was so adamant about rescuing Kenzie, and by extension, Little Bird. Hancock is terrified, but he’s not alone. If a little girl hasn’t given up, and a waitress hasn’t given up, how can a marine just cower and give up on life?
As the squad walks, Hancock asks Kenzie softly, “How are you doing?”
She scoffs, staying close to him. Their pace is easy to keep, given Grey’s injury, but they’re moving, which is what matters. The waitress replies, “Good as I can I guess.”
“Right, sorry…” replies Hancock, feeling like a fool.
“No, no!” She quickly adds gently, “I appreciate you asking…” She takes a breath and continues, “Rex, I… if you guys…” She fumbles for words, trying to formulate a full sentence.
She may never get that chance.
As the marines are crossing a footbridge over a dry canal, an explosion rattles up from beneath the young marine. The whole bridge shakes, and Little Bird screams as she and Hancock tumble apart. However, the explosion holds no fire; just a burst of rock as if it were smashed upwards.
Little Bird screams again, but a guttural, eager growl pierces through directly to Hancock’s soul. They held their fire as screaming children were carried away like sacks. The aliens are careful with those they take prisoner, though only barely. Whatever the aliens want with them, they want them alive.
Hancock glimpses the little girl being snatched down into the collapsed hole extending to the edge of the bridge.
He sees her face, screaming and reaching back for him; for Hancock.
Something ignites in Hancock. It’s a fire he didn’t know he had. That little girl’s horrified and desperate and trusting gaze will NOT haunt him forever. He would rather die.
Hancock screams as he scrambles to the edge, “LITTLE BIRD!”
The alien has just landed on the canal ground. Hancock’s brain is off; at least, the fearful and logical parts. He leaps from the bridge edge without a thought.
Hancock lands on the surprised hulk, but his ‘plan’ doesn’t work as he expected. Instead of pancaking the soldier to the ground, Hancock feels rather like he just belly-flopped onto a tree stump. He coughs as Little Bird flails in its big hand. She screams, “REX!”
She’s right there. He can save her. He WILL save her.
The alien’s otherwise free hand is holding Little Bird, and its sword is ignited. The young marine regains his senses, dedicating his energy to holding onto the staggering behemoth as it stumbles back. He loses grip on his rifle, but hopefully, its sling will hold. In the meantime, he feels for his belt’s dagger holster, yelling frantically. He knows it doesn’t help any, but he doesn’t care. The alien staggers, taking too long to decide which to unhand; the girl or the sword. Hancock gets his dagger, and he makes no hesitation to jam the blade into the alien’s leathery skin visible at its collar.
The alien howls in sharp pain. Good. They feel pain. Just that notion alone gives Hancock a nudge of hopeful confidence. But, as he withdraws his dagger for a blow towards its spine, he notices, even with the alien bucking frantically, its wound heals almost instantly.
He doesn’t have long enough to read into it, though. The hulk decides to drop Little Bird. Hancock yells, “Little Bird! Run!” The little girl looks up at him in panic. But, his gaze catches the SEVERAL aliens storming across the bridge. Again, though, he is interrupted when the alien grips him and casts him in a tumble across the ground.
Everything hurts. Everything aches. Something might be broken. But, Little Bird screams again. He’s so close.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The marines position in cover to fire on the aliens pursuing them on the bridge. Kenzie and the mystery man are hiding next to Fisher as Dumas and Grey fire, and Fredericks reloads.
Sergeant Grey doesn’t know much about extraterrestrials. He’s fought ground wars in deserts most of his life. But, he knows arrogance when he sees it. The aliens know just how tough they are.
His marines are shaken by this fact. He can’t blame them. They’re running out of ammo. He has half a mind to order the rookie to hand over his magazines and grenade.
That’s when he finally realizes it. He heard screams. He saw Little Bird get taken. And, he saw Hancock safely on the bridge. Grey desperately looks up the bridge, flinching when a firebolt hits inches ahead of his face.
The rookie isn’t with the squad, nor is he lifeless on the bridge. Little Bird is the only reason the squad stopped at all. But now…
Gunfire patters away from the canal. Hancock is alive. Grey yells, “ROOKIE!” The sergeant ducks just in time not to be shot. He glances at the mystery man. He’s struggling to activate his forearm device. The rings aren’t moving like before, and he doesn’t seem very knowledgeable on its use.
Grey yells, “WE NEED YOU!”
The stranger calls back, “I KNOW! I’M TRYING!”
The aliens are reaching the end of the bridge. The low walls the marines are hidden behind will be useless in moments.
A shrill scream fills the air; that of undoubtedly Little Bird. The first alien rounds the walls. Grey’s shotgun clicks –empty-.
The stranger isn’t the same though. He stands up fearlessly, lunging to the alien’s proximity. A single punch thunders, and the alien doubles over at the waist, audibly belching and vomiting into its helmet. The stranger grips it and whirls, launching the alien into its comrades, stumbling them all back onto the bridge. His grip, however, retained something from the extraterrestrial warrior; a strange, spiky looking ball. The stranger says seriously and sternly, “Get to your base. I’ll retrieve the other two.”
They all stare at him in disbelief. He booms, “Do not wait! We WILL meet you there!”
With that, he activates the ball, tossing it onto the bridge in front of the dazed and surprised aliens. He casually steps over the edge into the canal as the alien bomb explodes violently, shattering the bridge while the aliens trip over each other to struggle clear. They aren’t able to make it clear, though, before the bridge collapses, dropping them into the canal.
Fredericks calls, “Sarge! Whadda we do!?”
Grey looks at the bridge. Several more aliens are storming up to the gap. He has to think fast. None of his options are good. The senior marine peeks towards the canal, but his view is blocked.
The aliens that look into the canal also point up the canal much further. However, their own weapon blasts cause them to duck. Grey smirks. Whoever the stranger is, he is definitely some kind of prototype super-soldier or even possibly an escaped prisoner from the alien mother ship.
In any case, he is an ally of the marines, and they’re moving away from the bridge, which is why Grey needs to get the others clear too. The Sergeant shouts, “You got lead in your shoes!? Let’s move, marines!”
“Moving!” call the marines in reply. They scramble into cover of the buildings, Kenzie close in tow.
********
The stranger appears in a thunderous arrival, startling the alien before several more tumble into the canal. The first alien that had grabbed Little Bird initially has once again snatched the little girl. But, it made a mistake. It paused. Or… perhaps it doesn’t matter. The Stranger has one goal in mind. The alien tries to claim its ranged weapon in exchange for its sword, but the gun is the sole goal of the stranger, given the ferocity with which he targets the weapon. The stranger’s arms fly around the weapon, and he pivots violently. Simultaneously, he kicks the alien in the shin, dropping it to a kneel. Still in a fluid swirl, the stranger catches the girl by her collar, dropped by the alien to catch itself on the ground.
The stranger pivots the girl away, dangling her like a cat by the scruff of her neck. He levels the alien gun with the hulk’s broad chest. Hancock watches in astonishment as the stranger manages to fire the weapon in rapid succession. The alien howls and flops backwards onto the ground. The stranger pivots again, firing repeatedly at the aliens that fell from the section of bridge collapsing with the explosion.
Hancock notices what the stranger hasn’t, though. The first alien is recovering somehow. It shifts over to sit up.
The young marine sees something else, though. It is an innocuous detail he would never think twice about. He sat in cowardice for every firefight so far. But, his mind wasn’t paralyzed entirely. He was still seeing everything. He saw details he will never forget. Alone, the detail he notices on the alien’s back could mean nothing. After all, their skin regenerates in seconds, right?
Then, why were the marines able to help the stranger kill one of the aliens? The details all collide in Hancock’s mind. The damage the stranger did to that specific alien’s back preceded that fatality. His drill instructor used to say “A marine without a mind is no better than a gun turret. Except, gun turrets don’t need potty breaks.” He encouraged the recruits to think outside the box.
Hancock doesn’t even have to think that hard. The device built into the back of the alien’s armor does the luxury of glowing while it’s active. A red glow makes a juicy target already. But, even better, it takes a monster’s ability to absorb damage like a literal bullet sponge and replaces that with a soldier’s worst enemy; standing in the open as a very mortal duck.
Hancock grips his rifle, flipping over quickly to aim down his own body. Pain shoots through him, but he pushes past it. He has too many reasons to live right now. And, he knows he needs the stranger to do that.
The stranger is distracted firing at the bridge now. The alien is regaining its senses. It’s now or never!
Hancock’s rifle shakes violently in his terrified hands. If he fires, the alien will target him next.
NO! He can’t think like that. He is a marine! He… just has… to… pull the trigger.
His hands won’t stop shaking. The alien grips its sword. Hancock closes his eyes as they begin to water. He’s worthless. A coward. Everyone else is fighting SO hard to survive. Even Kenzie and Little Bird, with no experience or training, are clinging to life any way they can.
If Hancock lets the stranger fall, they all die. He’s the only one that can fight the aliens toe to toe. But, Hancock has it figured out. All he needs is a little strength.
Little Bird’s horrified gaze finds him in his own mind; that look she gave him as she was being snatched away. Kenzie was going to say something. Sergeant Grey and the others risked everything for him to get this chance. As stupid as it was to do, they did it. They wanted to fight for a purpose.
Every good soldier needs a purpose. Hancock found his when he dove from the bridge, and she still needs him.
He opens his eyes, exhaling calmly. He is able to steady his hands to a soft quiver. The alien is pivoting, closing his window of opportunity.
The rookie marine squeezes the trigger, and one bullet cycles. What it does is outside of his control now. All he can do is pray and find his next target. Sparks explode from the alien’s back, but it doesn’t care. It swings its sword viciously for the stranger. But, the stranger tensed at the shot. With reflexes like omniscience, the stranger leaps back, freeing his hand from the gun and leaving it behind in midair. His hand narrowly avoids being cleft clean off by the purple energy blade. The weapon is not so lucky. And, in the blindingly fast moment, the stranger is already turning, hugging, and diving away by the time the gun explodes violently.
The stranger lands on his back, protecting the girl from the blast and the impact with his body. His long white cape smolders, and the alien shields its face in surprise for a moment. The stranger is dazed. The alien roars and stomps forward. Hancock fires incessantly, but the alien only flinches a little. It grabs Little Bird again, but the stranger’s hands hold tight around her.
The alien growls in obvious frustration, rearing its sword. It starts to swing viciously, in spite of the girl, Hancock flinches in horror.
Once more, though, the stranger proves full of surprises. His right arm, golden bracer on his forearm, snaps up, seemingly in futility to stop the metal-shearing blade. But it stops. A terrifying crackle, like an electrical transformer about to explode, buzzes menacingly. Sparks fly from the bracer, rings around it spinning wildly.
The stranger powerfully shifts, kicking the alien in the gut, launching it once more onto its back. It was as stunned as Hancock still is. This time, he pounces onto the alien, wrestling to grip its helmet.
However, several other alien soldiers appear. One grabs Little Bird, and then Hancock is yanked off of the ground by a beastly grip. One of the alien guns is leveled with Hancock’s head just as the stranger slams his alien’s head on the ground. Now free of its helmet, it seems to go unconscious, and he is just about to break its neck, by appearances.
The alien holding Little Bird booms sternly, “HOOMIN!” The stranger halts. So, they DO know English. This means the aliens were already observing Earth in some capacity.
The stranger steps away from the unconscious alien. He looks slowly at the six standing aliens watching him. Hancock chokes out, “S-Save her…!”
The alien holding him snarls viciously in his ear. The invader holding Little Bird grunts out, “How feet?” Their English is apparently only a little.
The stranger’s face is covered in blood. His injuries on his cheek still trickle a little as well. His cape is tattered and soot, dirt, mud, and blood have soiled almost every inch of his armor.
The stranger scoffs, replying with exhaustion, “I sincerely don’t know.”
This doesn’t make the alien happy. It grunts orders at the other four, whose guns are trained on the stranger. The exhausted amusement dissolves from the human super-soldier. The rings on his gauntlet race up to full speed, whining and screaming with terrifying energy. A powered angle grinder could take a lesson in speed.
Hancock could believe very easily that he’s dreaming already. He could believe he’s in a pre-death spiral through a fantasy world. Reality isn’t like this. If he awakens from the coma he might be in, he would be relieved and unsurprised.
Instead, what happens next drives him further into the realm of fantasy. He watches as a red glow fills the strangers eyes, while his blood glows blue in his veins, including the blood staining his face. His face contorts in anger. Of this, Hancock is certain, since the four hostage-free aliens take a startled step back.
And, in a flash, the stranger snaps his arms up. Six bolts of blue lightning race from his fingertips to every one of the six standing aliens, including the two holding Hancock and Little Bird. No, he saw it; the bolts of lightning came FROM the aliens, and the hellish bolts dance between them. The extraterrestrial soldiers bellow and wail in agony together. Hancock and Little Bird fall to their hands and knees, suddenly freed of the hulking extraterrestrials. The sparks and bolts shriek, pop, and roar just overhead. The aliens howl, helpless against a nerve-shredding pain. The stranger’s hands curl into fists, as if he is gripping the lightning bolts like ropes. He pulls the invisible strings, and the shuddering aliens tense stiffly.
All at once, their bodies dissolve into ash, disintegrating and dropping the armor plates to the ground. The air falls silent, even as a glowing aura swirls around the stranger briefly. And, then just as quickly, the glow dissolves, and the stranger relaxes. An eerie quiet befalls the canal. The little girl’s sniffles are the most prominent noise as the stranger seems just as astonished at his own actions as Hancock and Little Bird are.
The stranger clears his daze first, jogging briskly to the two. He asks Hancock, “Can you walk?”
Hancock stares into the stranger’s strange, faintly-blue-glowing eyes. The young marine nods faintly. The stranger nods, cautiously approaching the little girl, who also nervously stares at him. He says gently, “I won’t let any more harm come to you, Little Bird. I promise.”
The girl blinks, sniffles, and her eyes water anew. He cautiously offers her to ride on his back, and she gingerly climbs up, hugging his neck. Just as she stands up, she cries out, “W-Wait! M-M-My… My marine hat!”
The stranger looks around, searching the ground. Thinking quickly as he, too, climbs to his feet, Hancock digs his uniform cover out of his pocket. He unravels it and offers it to the girl. He wonders if she’s just so overloaded with everything that just happened, a triviality is all she can process. He feels like that’s his state of mind right now.
The little girl gingerly takes the hat, placing it on her head. She squeaks, “Th-Thank you, Rex.”
Something new comes over the rookie marine; something he thought would be purged from him by the events of the day. But, he manages a dash of humor as he replies, “A marine’s first name is their rank, Rookie. We go by last names or nicknames. Call me ‘Rookie’, Little Bird.”
She sniffles and nods. He says as playfully and ‘seriously’ as he can muster, “That’s ‘Yes, Rookie’ to you, marine.”
She quickly squeaks, “Y-Yes R-Rookie!”
He smirks and nods. The two adults walk briskly, searching for a way out of the canal. There’s no telling when the aliens will come looking for their fallen or discover the orbital elevator.
As the three walk, the little girl summons the courage to ask, “A-Are you an angel?”
There’s a pause, and the stranger asks, “Who, me?”
“Mm-hmm…”
“I don’t know.”
“How come?”
He chuckles, “I don’t know that either.”
“Do… Do you know what an angel is?”
He gently replies, “Yes. For some reason, I seem to know a lot. I just… I can’t recall anything.”
“Mm...”
After a pause, Little Bird asks, “Doesn’t it… sadden you?”
The man replies distantly, “I can’t miss who I can’t remember.” He then perks up a little, saying, “Now, I know you’re a marine, but I’m not. So, I’m allowed to use your name. May I have your real name, Little Bird?”
She lowers her chin onto his shoulder sadly. Hancock suspects she was trying to forget reality and all she lost in it. She says softly, “M-Maya.”
“Maya. That’s a beautiful name.”
She nuzzles his collar quietly, murmuring, “I… I want to be a marine, though…” Her hands grip the fabric of his collar.
The stranger smiles gently, “Nothing I say will change the fact; you’re a marine. Saw it myself. But, if ‘Little Bird’ makes you happy, then ‘Little Bird’ it is.”
She smiles sheepishly, continuing to fidget with the clasps of his cape.
The three trek cautiously. The chaos is dying down some. Either the extermination has gone quickly, or people have resorted to hiding. Still, night has fallen, and hellish fires cause a glow on the nighttime sky. Little Bird, exhausted from fear, has managed to fall asleep on the stranger’s collar.
Hancock whispers, alertly watching for the pinpoint lights on the alien armor, “You’re pretty good with kids.”
The stranger replies quietly, “Thanks. You too.”
Hancock scoffs, “Hardly. I almost got her killed.”
The stranger frowns empathetically. He replies softly, “I… think that makes you better than me, still.”
The rookie marine stays quiet for a moment. He can see the entrance to the military base ahead, crowded with people.
***