User blog:MerchantofDeath/New FF or RP story.

Keep in mind, this is based on my Open Window Project Universe I created. It's really hard for me to come up with ideas for this story, but here's a bit I've thought up.

That Deep, Philisophical Feeling...
New York City

June 3rd, 2016

"HIT THE DECK!!!"

Corporal Bill Harris of the 2nd Infantry Head Division dove into the broken up concrete just as the energy bolt came flying past him. His arms and elbows took most of the force of the fall, but it still hurt like a bitch ducking like that. He turned around on his back, and looked for any causalties caused by them. There was one, Private Johanson, and the only thing that was left of him was a smoking skeleton with pieces of cooked meet on it. Harris vomited what remained in his stomach, and a little bit of the water that was left in his stomach got on his BDU.

"Corporal, get you ass back in the game!!", yelled Sergeant Greg Myers, reloading his SCAR-H behind one of the sandbag defenses. Harris began trying to stand up, using his M4 Carbine to balance himself. The surviving Styker from 5th Platoon was still raining lead on whoever the fuck was shooting on them, but the enemies' enerhy bolts were burning wholes in the side of the Styker; literally. He could even see the vehicles crew locating targets down the street from where he was.

Harris streached his head to look above the skyscrapers, where explosions from both the SAMs were trying to light the enemies' air support up with the help of the F-16s that the Air Force still had availiable for NYC. One F-16 even went flying around Harris' regiments' road doing a barrel roll, breaking the glass windows that still remained on the office buildings, which rained little pieces onto the troops. But behind the F-16 came one of the enemies ships, which looked like the worst black triangle that Harris had ever seen. It fired two red bolts, which quickly flew above the road and hit the jet. Instant death was the only option for that pilot.

''How many hours has it been? Two? Six? Fifteen? When the hell did these guys get here, and how the fuck did they manage to get past our radar and satellites? More importantly, where did these sonsofabitches come from?''

"I said get you ass over here NOW Corporal!!!", yelled Myers, firing off rounds from his rifle. Harris quickly snapped back into reality, back into the loud and bloody battle was ensuing. He ducked while he was running, to avoid the super hot bolts of light or whatever the fuck it was, running over the Sarge to see what he could do. But, quickly, he got out from under his cover and looked for a target. His heart stopped a little when he saw one of the enemy, whoever they were. They were tall, really tall, probably twelve feet max. They wore glistening blac armor and a helmet to go with it, with black visors covering their faces from debris. From what he could see from the distance, they were also physically built like a human, but he wasn't very sure that they were human. They looked like what Harris thought was a Futuristic Hoplite.