Alien roars fill your helmet as you fire. Your silenced SMG barely even makes the giant flinch. It merely paws at you like a kitten might if a kitten stood nine feet tall. Fancifully playful. You fly. You can feel death waiting right beside you, whispering its own alien curses into your ears, whispering for you. The beast takes another step as you keep your finger down, and fill it with a hail of bullets. Hollow echoes through the hot urban air. You notice the sun has been stifling the smell of rot and dust throughout the entire city block. Suddenly you realize that this is your world, not theirs. They're bigger, stronger, faster. But you're better. And this is your home. You roll, reeling in pain as it tries to grab you. It grunts, then chuckles at your inane attempt at fleeing. Little does the thing know, that as your found yourself at death's door, eying the sun, smelling the fetid air, you were preparing a grenade. Pin gone, in your hand, it too late realizes its impending doom. The grenade explodes. You sigh. It's over.
It's not. It marches forth, bleeding, bellowing its anger towards you. You grimace, trying to reload. It leaps at you, disarming and pinning your small frame to the concrete below. It smashes your head into the pavement; only your helmet saves you. Your vision blurs and you hear voices you've not heard in years...your mother...your father...dead. All of them. You're the only one left. And this thing wants you to join them.
Your one free hand reaches for your sidearm, a Magnum. You pull it up and slam it into the hot, burning mouth of the monster. It moves- too late. A muffled pop enters the air and dies nearly as quickly. The monster's eyes roll up into the back of its head.
Your arm is broken. You have a concussion. Your ribs are cracked. Your equipment is damaged. You're almost out of ammo. You grit your teeth in pain. But that's okay.
You're the best of the best.
But you're only human.
Prepare to Drop.