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The End

You know, maybe it was a mistake to exile all of the costumed heroes. Doesn't matter now cause for damn sure, we're on our own.

There must be a million of us here. It's the last of us. I'm pretty sure the guy that's a few feet from me used to be the President. That was back when we had a White House. And a government. Or any kind of law. 

We're standing in the crater that used to be the Midwest area of the United States, where all the fighting started. Right after we exiled the last cape, those things came for us, and we've been fighting them ever since. We figured out how to kill them five years ago, and we all agreed to this last stand to see who'd get to live on our planet.

I think it's kinda arrogant on the visitor's part, but you can't argue with something that's almost pure energy.

The skies go grey. They're here.
The clouds coalesce and swirl into each other, kicking up artificial thunder that harkens their arrival. They begin to pour out of the sky, bright blue orbs the size of basketballs raining down upon us. They control their descent and land silently several feet away.

They rise and take shape. I think they're mocking us because they're taking humanoid forms. They can be anything they want. 
It has the wrong effect. It pisses us off.
"Come on!" Someone in the back cries out.
We're tense, nervous, scared. The last of six billion members of what was once the dominant species of Earth, armed with whatever we could get our hands on for the final battle with the invaders.
Most of us won't survive, we know that.

As long as none of them survive, we're willing to make that sacrifice.
They shriek.
We roar.

We charge.
It begins.

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