Flynn took a sharp, shaky breath as he lifted his gun to shoot the beast. It was the last one. The final alien.

Its long, spiky legs were spread out over the ash-covered ground, twisting and pulling to try and escape. Its once metal body was now covered in blood, although it didn’t exactly look like the kind of blood Flynn had gotten used to throughout the last six months. It was bright, liquid silver. And the alien was drenched in it. Its blood-red eyes glared at Flynn, almost seeming to dare him to shoot it. He felt lost, although he knew where he was, who he was, and knew what he was here for.

He was in New York. Well, what remains of it. His name was Flynn Cooper, son of William Cooper. And he was here to end this war. He tightened his hold on his gun in his sweat-drenched hands and took another shattered breath. He was ready. His finger gripped the trigger and he pulled gently, a sudden beam of blue light electrocuting the alien. Flynn jumped at the loud bang of the gun and slowly lowered his weapon as the alien let out a shriek of pain and slumped down onto the ash-carpeted ground. Its eyes closed and its stomach fell, losing the last breath left in its system.

Flynn’s hands shot into the air in victory and he let out a laugh. It was over. The war was finally over.

Just then, a female voice startled him. “Conner! Flynn! It’s time for dinner!” Flynn blinked, and the battlefield disintegrated into nothing. There, in front of him, was words written in bold on a flat screen, reading; “you win the game!”

Flynn blinked again, a voice suddenly grabbing his attention. He turned to his right and locked eyes with a boy about his age. He had freckles and blond hair. He was cheering. “We did it, Flynn! We beat the aliens!”