Fan-fiction story... The last journal entries of a soldier.. Stained with blood and tears was found outside of Chicago. -------- The nights, they just seem to never end. It's been weeks since I've been able to move freely in the day light. These aliens have been pouring into our cities unleashing havoc on a scale nobody could have imagined, but somehow, I have felt like we have been due a wake up call. I didn't expect this. Every day I can feel the sweat of the fight set in more, my whole body wreaks of several naturally occurring odors. I haven't eaten a proper meal since the fallen took over here in Chicago. Anything that moves is subject to an ambush by these monsters. It's as if their rage is fueled by more than just the need to acquire territory. I am starting to believe they are after the visitor. The giant construct hasn't moved in weeks, most of our weapons are useless now. Everything we built was in childish hopes that this traveler was an eternal fixture in our society. Nothing could have prepared us for this war. The fallen appear to be organized yet lacking any really threatening weaponry, but their numbers never end. For every one fallen soldier we kill, three more will rush over his dead body. I miss day light, and I miss feeling blissfully ignorant. I recall when the traveler first appeared to us from the text books I read as a child in grade school, they mention how people became "inspired". We went from crude combustion engines barely able to power us anywhere, to being able to reach Saturn in 2 hours. It even mentions people taking power from the traveler called "light", and being able to accomplish things not thought possible. I have always looked at this big white mechanical mess in the sky as a bad omen for things to come, guess I was right. Things always seem to go wrong when you feel like you're untouchable. There was a firefight last night, another wave of fallen enemies found their way down here into our haven. They're starting to understand us I think, they started off hunting us after the initial wars by sending small recon teams. These teams usually consisted of what everyone is calling Dregs and Vandalls, all of which seem to have active camouflage tech unlike anything we've seen. They would come in fours and usually get picked off by our snipers or fail to find us all together. Now they have started just slowly occupying areas, sending captains out with larger patrols. I'm not sure how many survivors are still here in Chicago. I feel like this may be the end, no, it is the end. I have 42 rounds between my SUROS R34 and sidearm. It's enough to make a run to the south side of town, I hear there's still a large group held out there. I've been sitting here amongst corpses of people I once loved, and other soldiers who have finally started to give up. The clothes we wear, all of them are so stained from combat, I can't tell what color they used to be. We all stink of death and disease, the lucky ones all died in the initial invasions. We started eating other people like it was normal about a year ago, it scares me every time I realize what we have became. It's few and far between though, thinking of our lost humanity. It's hard enough to think about survival. - Sgt Allen Kabr of the United Earths Armies.