Private Jones

#### Day Two

*The mission timer in the upper right corner of the helmet camera reads February third, twenty-forty-eight; placing it at just a day after the initial invasion began. He is riding on top of a truck that has been rapidly turned into a 'technical' (a civilian vehicle with a gun mounted to serve as a weapon platform) sitting next to the gunner. His field of view looks over a scorched and barren Earth; likely the eastern seaboard of the United States given his dialect and the few buildings that are still standing after the bombardment.*

*"Jones!"*

*Jones turns his head to look at who called him which brings Sergeant Abrams into view.*

*"Jones, pull fucking security and stop staring at Malackey's ass. We're in the midst of a fuckin' warzone. Can't you tell?"*

*"Yes, Sergeant." Jones replies, turning to view the broken landscape. The Earth here is blackened ash, cracks in its surface bleed lava which threatens at all times to scorch their tires and the few buildings that still remain are mere skeletons with blown apart concrete and pieces of rebar. Ash statues of people that once were blow apart in the gentle breeze while others, hidden in the limited protection of the buildings, still have a look of horror and terror on their faces from the initial attacks.*

*"Hell do you think hit us...? Russians?" Malackey, the gunner, asks to no one in particular.*

*"If I knew that I feel like I wouldn't be a grunt. Comms have been down for a while. Whoever did it was damned coordinated. And knew exactly how to get past our defenses..." Sergeant Abrams responded as the truck bounced along. "All I know's that the brass want us to search the area but they're being real fuckin' hush about what it is we're supposed to find out he-..."*

*The sentence is punctuated by a flurry of plasma that shreds Private Malackey and sends bits of him flying over the side of the truck.*

*"Shit! Contact! Contact! Contact! Three o'clock, two hundred meters!" Sergeant Abrams calls as the truck speeds up to avoid the ambush as plasma continues to fly. "Jones get on that fucking gun!"*

*Jones delivers, dutifully, and mans the .50 caliber gun which he swivels to the side and opens fire. Whatever his target is, is but a pinprick at this distance. Spent shell casings occasionally fly into view and the barrel quickly begins to smoke as it overheats. The plasma fire continues to streak past him though at some point one of the bolts impacts on his weapon and the .50 caliber explodes. Fortunately for him, Jones seems unharmed and quickly picks up his rifle as he mutters expletives and begins to engage his targets again as the remainder of the soldiers in the truck do.*

*Whatever it is that they are firing at cannot keep up with the truck's hellish pace as it bounds along the landscape. Eventually the gunfire stops moments before something detonates underneath the truck and sends it flying, knocking Jones's camera out of commission temporarily.*

#### Day Three

*Jones's camera begins to function again. For many hours, he lays motionless underneath the technical that had carried him into battle. His helmet radio is still functioning though barely and for a long while is merely static. Eventually, a voice clears through the headset and can be audibly heard.*

*"Jones? Jones? Where the hell are you? Jones?" the voice of Sergeant Abrams calls to him through the haze of ash and dust that surrounds him and the overturned vehicle. Judging by the view on the camera there was a massive firefight that eventually forced the remainder of the survivors into retreat. "Jones, answer me..." Abrams says, his voice somewhat worried.*

*"I'm here... I'm here... I'm here sir..." Jones replies finally as he stirs to life. His leg is pinned beneath the truck and there are visible wounds, most likely compound fractures, on his leg. He begins to pull himself from underneath the truck when he lets out a high pitched, desperate howl of agony as the shock wears off and Jones is able to feel his injuries. For a moment he drops his weapon and clutches his leg before he begins to apply a tourniquet. Gunfire is audible nearby though it seems to be coming from many directions at once with no clear indication of who is winning.*

*It is dark as well. The camera's night vision is still functional though it appears that Jones's is not judging by his movements. The camera also displays his vital signs. From them, it is learned that Jones is experiencing both terror and pain. All around him in the night creatures' howls mix with the sounds of screaming and shouting and gunfire. The Earth beneath him is still blackened and Jones has been burned very badly while he was unconscious. At some point, several minutes after his video reengages, Jones lifts his weapon and fires a single shot into the dark. It apparently hits something because one of the invaders howls in pain which prompts Jones to begin firing off the entire magazine into the dark where it came from until finally some sort of alien lays dead nearby him. Jones stands up, limps to the alien and fires the remainder of his magazine into the still dying creature.*

*When it lays still, Jones takes a minute to calm himself and his vital signs return to what would be considered normal for his situation. He is alone, out of ammunition, severely wounded and presumably surrounded on all sides. It does not deter Jones. Jones instead locates the moon and begins to follow it west. Along the way he hides from many aliens and remains undetected though he is slowed by his injury.*

*A gunshot from nearby comes hours later and the sun is already rising. By this time, Jones has taken up position inside a building to make a final stand after finally being located by his enemies. Armed with only a combat knife, Jones has successfully engaged four alien Hounds and defeated them in hand-to-hand combat though he has sustained several injuries in the process during the night. He's fashioned himself a splint which seems to ease his first injury enough that he can walk at a decent pace.*

*Jones proceeds to the upper levels of the building where he finds a squad of Marines that have similarly been trapped. Further investigation of the Marines' helmet cameras revealed that the Marines and Jones had, several times, intersected paths in the night though due to malfunctioning and damaged equipment had not detected one another.*

*"Who the hell are you?" a Marine, identified by his nametag and his rank as Lance Corporal Briar, asks Jones.*

*"Private Jones. First armored division..."*

*"Corpsman, help him up." Lance Corporal Briar commands a nearby navy serviceman who assists Jones in getting to the roof. "You picked the right damn time to show up. We're retreating. Bird's already on the way but we got to get the hell off this rooftop. Damn aliens..."*

*"Aliens...?"*

*"Yeah, Jones, aliens. You got fucking wax stuck in your ears?" Briar responds as he ducks down back behind cover when plasma begins to rain down on their position. "Fucking bastards have been chasing us all goddamned night..." he mutters as Jones is handed ammunition to assist them. "THE BEST PART OF YOU RAN DOWN YOUR DADDY'S ASS CHEEKS AND BECAME A BROWN STAIN ON THE MATTRESS! YOUR OTHER FATHER'S AIM SUCKS JUST LIKE YOURS!" he shouts to the invaders who cannot be seen due to the angle of Jones's helmet camera.*

*The video footage beyond this point is corrupted for that day's events.*