Down from the heavens rein heavy metal in the form of weaponized steel. War machines designed to walk like men and fire rounds of piercing destruction at inhumane speeds fall to the ground. With crashing waves and deep craters, they meet the asphalt of what was once a great economic city only moments ago. Pods descend carrying equally fearsome troops dawned in the dark powerful red of blood. An entire block of skyscrapers vanished in mere seconds to the falling forces of invasion.
A lowly guard of the planet sees it all from a few blocks away atop his small employer’s place of business. Mechs standing nearly 15 feet tall and infantry in heavy assault armor several times the size of a normal man have made landing in his home. Without hesitation bullets begin to fly and fire starts to spread. The surrounding area is taken and bodies are dropped to the floor. Piles of innocents brought to their demise within minutes. He is merely a guard with a single rifle and barely enough ammo to kill a handful of soldiers. The invading force out numbers and out mans him by immeasurable amounts of power and destruction.
His enemy is all dressed in the ferocious red markings of the empire. The infantry is covered head to toe in a tone that matches their flames. Their mech and armored escorts are painted like tribal warriors brandishing their bright colors. From the darkened night sky shows a warship larger than the city itself. It cruises slowly overhead fueling the manpower of the invasion. More and more pods continue to descend until the entire block from which they began is flattened. The warship pulls just overhead and parks itself into a steady position. The chaos seems to stop for a moment, though it is not reassuring as the damage is beyond repair. Silence fills the air.
How did they get here? The guard wonders to himself more in fear than actual thought. The Federal Navy must have already been obliterated, otherwise they would have engaged by now. He looks around once more and takes in the surroundings of his attackers. He is alone. There are no ground forces or flying support. No one within sight is wearing the loyal green of his home federation. No. the world is filled with red; imperial red. They say imperial troops begin with clean armor and the color of their empire is brandished upon them by the blood they spill. Looking at the troops take formation around the block he thinks again; that has to be impossible, but it is a fearsome concept. The guard is in complete disarray as to what he should do. Fighting is complete suicide. I’d be surprised if I could kill even a single troop, and still what good would that do? He sighs in defeat. Shall I make my escape?
With the completion of that thought comes the absolute deafening crash of the final war machine touching down. It sounds as if a nuclear warhead has gone off; the guard hears only ringing for several moments and his sight is thrown from him as everything becomes blurry. His mind is unable to think or form a single coherent idea as his senses try to find themselves. Who knows what kind of inhuman destruction is occurring while he unable to do anything. Though, after several seconds the ringing stops and his vision begins to steady. He still can’t hear anything, but at least now he can see. And so, he peers his head over the railing of his building. There upon the flattened block of land stands the largest piece of steel built for war he has ever seen. It is a tank in the shape of a pyramid with each side nearing at least 200 meters. The tracks on which it stands are likely two stories tall and from the front facing side of the structure two long tubes the size of a commercial airliner protrude. They are the barrels for this monstrosity and any round fired from them is likely to level the entire city for miles.
The raiding begins again as the infantry move to clear any and all persons in the way of the invasive super tank. The walking machines start to level small structures and burn down anything too large for bullets. The guard wonders if he is still unable to hear as the world feels silent. His question is answer with a thunderous explosion as the super tank unleashes its first volley of rounds that land several blocks to the north of the guard’s location. Everything in their path is demolished; turned completely to rubble and ash. This may be an invasion, but true to imperial form they are not here to conquer but to destroy. It becomes blatant that the imperial forces will not be taking prisoners. It seems only wise, to the guard, that he should try to leave. Yet, at the same time there is no getting away from the range and destruction of that super tank. Already he can hear the screams and final gasps for air from nearby. The infantry is upon him. It is too late. Death will soon come.
The guard opens his clenched eyes and sees boots standing before him. They are black like the night. He slowly looks up. It is a man in slick dark power armor; covered head to toe. Not an inch of his skin or being is shown. His helmet appears to have three simply circular visor holes slightly offset from one another. His face is hidden but he is looking directly at the guard. Fear is now apart of the poor lowly man but he notices quite simply that there is no red on the covered man before him. It is a small victory, but gives the guard a slight slimmer of hope that his life may last another few moments.
The armored man squats before the guard and again stares intensely into his eyes, even if his face is not visible. He slowly raises a single finger to his helmet as if signaling the guard to remain quiet. The guard is unsure how to feel. It is at this moment that he sees upon the armored man’s breast a thin stripe of green. All fear leaves the guard as he realizes this man is with the federation. He is not the usual infantry though. He is something different; clad in all black, with his helmet as unorthodox as they come, and as quiet as the cold air in the mountains. Returning his focus to the armored man, the guard notices his attention shift from himself to something just over his head.
The guard sits up and once again peers over the railing and sees another black armored man across the way on a rooftop nearby. This man’s helmet is instead all one large visor that covers his entire face, and in his hands is a thin rifle with a scope nearly as large as his head and barrel as long as any man is tall. It is just now that the guard realizes he no longer hears screaming and death nearby. It is all quiet on this block. And then it clicks. These are the Federal Rangers. Their motto: “Quiet, Quick, Correct.”
He never hears the shot fired, but he can see the recoil as the ranger across the way fires from his rifle. An explosion goes off as the super tank finds its track on the side closest to them broken. The guard turns his attention to the invasive forces. Several of the walking war mechs are destroyed and the super tank is now covered in holes with its tracks out of commission. There must be more rangers, and their initial strike was fast and effective. Turning back around, the guard notices that the ranger next to him is gone. He looks over the railing. The one on the other rooftop is gone as well. The battle is not over, they must be moving in to finish the job. Now would be the time to escape; to run away and never look back. Or…
The guard stands up and grabs his weapon. The attack has begun, and the empire is being pushed back. He must act now and serve his part in doing whatever he can to save his planet and his city. He runs for the stairs and practically jumps down them as he heads for the streets. The rangers are on their side; already the imperial invasion has been knocked down. They could win this battle!
***
The hulking mass of a super tank is now shredded scrap metal. Every man found sporting the color red has been disposed of; their bodies gathered and laid in organized piles for documentation. The sun begins to rise on the partially-fallen city. The battle is over and those who survived are the victors. Yet, the invasion did not occur without its fair share of casualties. Among the friendly forces and innocents upon the ground is a familiar local guard: his chest cavity blown through but his face still fully recognizable. The ranger stands above him and looks down once more. He remembers his face. He then looks up as the commanding ranger signals their departure. They were never here. The glory falls to the fallen.