When the news about the bugs hit, I damn near killed myself laughing. We’ve survived interstellar flight, a bizarre bureaucratic nightmare of a Galactic Alliance (some alliance that turned out to be), even accidentally launching multiple colony ships to “binary star systems” which turned out to just be supernovas (honestly, if I had a nickel for every time we’d done that…. Well, I’d only have two nickels, but it’s weird it happened twice). Anyway – after all that, it’s the overused “ravenous swarm of space bugs” that’s in every good and bad sci-fi film and game for the last fifty years which ends up being what finishes us off.

Tries to finish us off, a little voice at the back of my head insists, and I growl in agreement. The bugs have taken eleven of our twelve planets from us – the Alpha Centauri colonies, the bases on Mars and Titan, even the industry on the Moon. But humans still draw breath on Earth, our home world. And I’ll be damned if I let them take it from us.

Behind us, the vault doors close with a resounding thud. We all groaned when we saw them for the first time – I mean, if you’re going to steal from post-apocalyptic fiction there’s better options than Fallout, c’mon – but it turns out that that really is the best way to build a bloody tough door to keep out the ravenous little shits. The many extra layers of protection begin engaging over it: blast shielding, defensive turrets, even some prototype force shields it turns out the military had been developing. Inside are all of our families, our loved ones, our enemies, that one friend you haven’t spoken to in ages but have to wave at if you pass them in traffic... all of humanity. We’re spread across nine of these mega-bunkers across Earth, each with its own set of shields and turrets and gang of crazy last-ditch defenders standing outside.

And that’s where I come in. Before the bugs attacked I wasn’t a soldier – hell I wasn’t much of anything. I had a decent job in the city, I played a lot of games, I had friends and went to bars and tried to meet people. Just a plain old normal person. But as most of the military got injured or killed fighting their retreat back home, pretty much anyone who could and would fight was given crash training in firearms and – if you volunteered – some pretty radical implants and splicing. I tensed one arm, and I felt the cable-like muscles constrict around my reinforced bones – not that I could see them, encased as they were in the thick plate-like armour we all wore. When all of our industry is turned over to producing arms and armour, turns out we make some pretty choice stuff. I’ve even got speakers wired into the headset, so I can listen to my choice of music as I fight and die here.

Fight, yes. Die? No. That little voice insisted. I don’t know where it came from, but as the first wave of bugs came over the crest of the plains ahead of us, I clung to that little spirit of defiance for all I was worth. Outwardly, I clung just as tightly to my father’s old shotgun – he was long passed, and to be honest I never knew why I’d kept it in my apartment. Probably violated all kinds of laws, unlicensed gun and all – not that it matters now. But I knew somehow that it had to be the weapon I fought the final fight with, along with the proper military rifle I had slung on my back. And when I’d caught sight of myself in the shiny side of one of the tanks that had deployed with us, I knew exactly what music I would play.

I tapped once on the side of my helmet and brought the shotgun up, and charged forwards from the orderly ranks behind me, powered forwards by the best metal soundtrack the world has ever known. Orders were shouted desperately after me, but I have only one commandment now.

"Galactic Garden News here with the latest update on this developing crisis. The Merry Worma has spread rapidfire throughout the human empire, eradicating every marijuana plant used in the production of space weed. Characterized mainly by its behavior of laying dormant within the plant until a joint is rolled with the harvest before causing the joint to grow legs and wings and flying away to infect other nearby plants, the Merry Worma has recently been found to spread through the lungs of people who inhale the smoke and then are around the living plant during the incubation cycle as well. We go live now to the last living marijuana plant where resistance efforts are underway."

. . .

'Thank you Mary Jane, things have been bleak here as the employees of The Happy Corporation have been unable to directly resist the invasion. The only thing known to be effective against the enemy is the fire which only helps spread the parasite. Thankfully researchers have found that a high enough blood alcohol content can prevent parasitic infection. To this end the last remaining alcoholics have been pulled out of rehab to fight on the front lines. For centuries there have always been a small group who preferred alcohol to weed and now these heroes are putting their sobriety on the line to protect the last of the galaxy's stash. I have with me Jack Morgan, recently rotated away from combat to sober up.

Jack, how are things on the front lines? "

" I'm so fucking crossfaded bro, I can't fucki- bleargh "

" And now he's vomiting on my shoes. The sacrifice these heroes are putting themselves through is truly inspiring. "

The smoke cleared from the third round of bombs, and the galactic concil held their collective breath to see who would rise to claim earth. Slow and shaky, the un named foe rose up. The parasites had made a desert of Venus and left the once thriving metropolises of Mars in ruins. The Mercurians groaned in fear and despair as the invaders prepared to once again claim victory.

"You see how even the Humans, most savage among the Galaxy fall to us!" The leader boasted. "You see how even with Nuclear power, we emerge-"

Bang, bang, clack the Major stopped as the rhythmic thumping began again. Weak at first but growing stronger as more humans joined in. Always the same 3 beat rhythm. A strange code the entire planet appeared to know and understand. As one, the humans rose from the ashes chanting in a thousand different languages, but all the same (perplexing) battle cry.

"We will, we will, rock you! We will, we will Rock you!"

The major fell to his knees, looking on in abject horror. "How? We are undefeated. How" he demanded even as the humans crested the last hill, swallowing the enemy in sheer force, changing now to Bohemian Rhapsody.

"You never went up against a planet with the songs of Queen!"

Quiet. The dead lay spread across the field, both human and alien. Mostly alien. The wind blows, the sun rises. A new day of battle.

Dug in on one side is the last bastion of humanity, the 101st Bonecrushers! And they dawn their power armor and electro blades in anticipation of the coming attack.

They have a giant bunker built into the side of a cliff. Its massive speakers start blasting a rap song from 2003. 4000 Bonecrusher troopers line up in the fox holes with only the electro blades for the alien enemy.

Men and women from every parts of the world make up the Bonecrushers. When they hear the song playin over the speakers they all begin to sing together in unison, " Mutha F× cka, I aint never scared, I aint never scared, I aint never scared!"

The horde of aliens charge the last remaining bastion of humanity. They are angry and tired! They want the war to be over! They want the humans to just be dead already!

"I aint never scared! I aint never scared! I aint never scared!" The warriors scream in defiance as the bash away the alien threat that ripped away their peaceful lives.

The humans beat back the swarm. They lose some and the aliens lose more. Just another day.

The Bonecrushers just set up for the next day. They aint never scared.

I apologize for how disjointed this is. I haven't written in a long time, but this prompt gave me something more or less fully-formed that I had to get out of my head as quickly as I could. All criticisms, opinions and advice are greatly appreciated.

“Can you do a lubally before I go to sleep, Daddy?”

We’ve been doing this for six weeks, but I still chuckle every time she gets the word wrong. I’m not her father, but... well. I guess I am.

“Remember, it’s a lullaby, not a lubally. And yes, we can do it in a few minutes. I just have to make sure we’re all secure. How do we make sure we’re secure?”

Three months ago, I was just a guy who worked in an office. I wasn’t married. I didn’t have any kids. I worked a 9-5, went home, trawled the internet, played video games. I didn’t have any family. I didn’t make any waves. I didn’t matter.

“Check the locks on the door. Look outside to the north. If you see a glow, hide under the bed and don’t make any noise until sunrise.”

Their biology is... weird. When they first showed up, the news -- back when there was news -- was nothing but a lot of arguing about why they did what they did. Why they glowed orange, but only attacked at night. Why they only came from the north.

“That’s right. Now, did you brush your teeth?”

The xenobiologists thought they came from a planet where the visible spectrum didn’t matter. That explained why they glowed, but it didn’t explain why they only attacked from the north. It didn’t explain why they always left at sunrise. I guess there aren’t too many xenobiologists left to argue about it.

“Awww, do I have to? You said these are baby teeth and I’ll get new ones!”

When everyone started going south, I started going north. I’ve always had a rebellious streak in me, and I guess some part of me thought I’d have less people to deal with if I moved against the tide. I was afraid of how many people I’d run into, but it turns out that most people avoid someone moving towards danger. They think you’re crazy. I’m not sure they were wrong.

“You will, but it’s not just about the teeth. It’s about establishing good habits. If you don’t learn to take care of these, you won’t know how to take care of the permanent ones. I don’t know where there’s any dentists, and teeth can be a real problem if you’re not careful.”

I happened upon a gated community that didn’t seem too damaged, and started going house by house, scavenging for whatever I could find. I entered a house at random, and started walking down a hallway with a bunch of pictures of your generic happy family. Then I heard a whimper.

“What does est-estab-estabiling good habits mean?”

Through the barely there morning sun, I saw a girl sitting cross-legged on a couch. There were two men and a woman on the floor. She stared through me with a look on her face that soldiers in war movies have. The woman looked like the pictures in the hallway. She had a bullet in her head. The men weren’t in any of the pictures. They had needles in their arms.

“Es-tab-lish-ing. Establishing good habits means… it means learning to do things the right way, so that you always do them. When you establish good habits, you don’t even have to think about doing the right thing anymore. It happens automatically.”

There were maybe two dozen guns on the table and ammo to match. I almost took the guns and left. I was a 26 year old who had never even been responsible for a pet fish. She was… four? Kids all look the same to me. But she blinked. And instead of looking through me, she saw me. She started tearing up. She called me Daddy. And one of the men twitched.

“Good habits sound stupid. Why do you have to do good habits?”

I told the little girl to close her eyes and plug her ears tight. The men might have been dangerous at some point, but they were skin and bone and high off of… whatever.

“Well… I don’t really know. But you have to do good habits. Securing the perimeter is good habits, too.”

I buried the woman in the backyard. It seemed like the right thing to do. I buried the dead men in the back yard, too. That seemed like the wrong thing to do. But the aliens seemed to find human flesh a delicacy. I didn't want to draw any attention.

“Then how come I don’t ever see you brush your teeth?”

The question jolted me out of my reverie. Were all kids this smart?

“I, uh… I brush my teeth after you fall asleep.”

We met eyes, and we both giggled.

“Alright, I’ll make a deal. We’ll both brush our teeth at the same time from now on. You think about that deal, and I’ll go finish up.”

There’s no real rhyme or reason to when the aliens come, but when they do, the ground they cover… it doesn’t make sense. They seem like mindless beasts, but they show up everywhere, in numbers that defy all logic. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were turning our bodies into more of them, but that’s just sci-fi bullshit. Then again… I guess all of this would have been a sci-fi book, in the before times.

All of the rooms are burned into my muscle memory, and there’s no need to use a flashlight anymore. I peek through all of the windows, making sure there are no people trying to sneak up on us - although anybody crazy enough to do that at night would deserve whatever they got. My heart starts pounding as I approach the kitchen. It looks like there is a fire outside the window.

I run up the stairs as quickly and as quietly as I can, hoping against hope that she’s asleep. But she had lifted a corner of the blinds and is staring out the window, bathed in their orange light. She's shaking so hard that she can barely stand.

“Is it the boogeyman, Daddy?”

All of the guns are already upstairs. I didn’t see the point in having guns where I couldn’t see them, and she didn’t seem interested in learning about them. I had been meaning to make sure she knew how to at least clean them, because I knew having kids around guns was dangerous. But there had always been something else to do.

“Yeah. They’re here.”

I can’t see the point in trying to lie. She won't tell me about what she had seen or heard before I got here. But I know it took two weeks for her to sleep at night, and she can only sleep in my arms. How could you lie to someone who trusts you that completely?

“Is it going to hurt when we die, Daddy?”

I check my guns in the alien light, and they look like they’re on fire. I’m terrified, but my hands are steady, moving on autopilot, practicing what I’ve been practicing every day. Good habits. I hear a sound, deeper than anything I’ve ever heard. I’m not even sure if I hear it or feel it in my soul. I’m almost dizzy with the intensity of it. Then all at once, the sound is gone, but the fear is getting worse and I’m not sure if I can do this.

“W-who said we’re going to die? This is what we practiced for, remember? Now, what do you do?”

There’s no way she didn’t hear the shake in my voice. She looks at me, and I look at her with what I hope is a confident expression. She lets the blinds fall and, right before she’s about to get under the bed, I hear her pause.

“We got a brush the teeth deal, Daddy. That means we can only brush our teeth together. So we have to brush our teeth tomorrow, okay? You have to promise.”

She disappears under the bed, and just like that, the fear is gone. I hear a window shatter downstairs; I guess that sound they made let them detect us. It sounds like someone is dragging sandpaper across the floor downstairs. I close the door as quietly as I can, and make sure all of my guns are within easy reach.

“Hey, while we’re waiting, I’ll sing you a little lullaby.”

I rack my brain, trying to think of something that could pump me up and calm her down at the same time. Then, with a wry smile, it comes to me. Is the song kid-friendly? No, but I don’t think the world is kid-friendly anymore. I doubt anyone will mind too much.

“Daddy, you have to promise.”

There are certain promises that you shouldn’t make. There are certain promises that you have to make.

“I promise. Now you stay quiet. Don’t fret, precious, I’m here. Step away from the window and go back to sleep…”

Is it a lie if you believe it?

I release the safety. And I wait for dawn.

Those poor, poor sons of bitches.

See, as humans, we've seen a bit in our existence as a species. We've seen civil war, more civil war, actually now that I think about it, a lot of civil war if you consider war between any humans to be "civil." To be honest though? We got pretty good at it.

Strategic Reconnaissance Aircraft that can travel at Mach 3, weapons with the capability to wipe out a continent at the press of a button, the population of Florida, the AA-12, and whatever the hell Americans were thinking when they made the A-10 Warthog.

TL;DR: Lot o' shit. So we thought after 50 years of being in the galactic community, we thought could handle the Jakosöns. Insectoid parasites that can replace your fucking spine.

There were only about 3.5 billion of us left. The rest were either taken or....

Or they decided not to continue.

Backed not into a corner, but a compact ball, the walking corpses of our international comrades mocking us daily.
The galaxy stood still. Not one out of the 7 species they had began infecting had survived them yet, so why would we be any different?

Simple. As a group of us were barricaded in the white house, yes, Washington DC, one of us did something stupid.
He loaded two rounds into a double barrel shotgun, took a speaker and his phone out of his backpack.

"Right then. We're already gonna die, so let's make sure they don't forget the god damn time they had."

The music he played that day....
Oh how I forgot it until he played.

Right in sync and on cue to the words, the doors were blasted open from the inside.

After 3 days, there weren't any of the fuckers left in DC. So? We got a couple of humvees and a fuck ton o' speakers, and a year and a half later, there was more of us than them.

Those bastards spent the last half a year in fear of the sound of the storm approaching. Or, to be more specific:

Vergil's theme song from Devil May Cry 5.

The slight thumps of rock and dirt clumps was all that remained of that last laser artillery barrage. Most of the humans last platoon, wiped out in a single blast. A man stumbled out from their bunker, covered in dirt and blood, some dry and some fresh. He fell to his knees, gasping for air as his tank neared empty. For months now the oxygen on Earth had been getting thinner and thinner to the point of needing helmets to breathe safely. The Groh were an effective army. Using their superior artillery to shell humanity’s footholds and then coming in to clean up the rest. The man could still hear the screams of his comrades as they turned to ash, crushed by rubble, burned to death, or simply bled out. It didn’t make him sad. No, the time for sadness was over. He didn’t feel fear, he’d been in the fight for long enough to where that was a distant memory.

In this moment of pure clarity, as the Groh marched in, their hulking forms blotting out the sun. Some pushed by the man, heading for the bunker. Three others stood in place in front of him.

“Sergeant Drake. By order of the Grohginar Empire, by the will of Grohdar himself, and by the will of its people. We declare your species extinct. Whatever pagan gods you worship, pray to them now and swiftly.” They spoke, in complete unison with that ghostly tone of theirs.

Drake coughed some more, his air filter all but spent. He carefully rose his bloodied hands and removed his helmet. Dark hair stuck to his forehead and he dropped the helmet onto the ruined earth.

He bowed his head and began to pray.

“L-Lord knows, I can’t change…” He croaked, earning sneers from the Groh in front of him.

“L-L-Lord help me…I can’t change.” His voice trembled some more but sounded clearer, more defined. Some respect was felt in the Groh, for they have not found humanity to be so devoted to their gods, pagan or otherwise.

“Lord, I can’t change.” Drake spoke once again, his voice smooth and calm, his breathing steadying. Color began filling his face once more and the bleeding from his wounds began to slow.

“Sir…the bunker is empty.” Reported an officer, a confused look on his green scaled face. The three in front of Drake conversed amongst themselves then faced the human, kneeling to his level and coming face to face with him. “Where. Is. The. Plant.” They chanted, their eyes glowing. Showing that the Groh hive mind was now in control.

Upon stepping closer, they see now that the earpiece in the humans ear was active. In fact, it was playing something. They were confident that this outpost was dead, all except the sergeant in front of them. Who could he be talking to? As soon as the question formed in their minds. Drake spoke once again.

“Wont you flyyyy highhhhhh FREEEEEEEEE BIIIIRRRRDDDD YEAHHHHHH!!” His voice roared in their ears, bursting their eardrums immediately and rupturing the ground. A sonic boom rippled through the air as a melody played throughout the surrounding area. The Groh have not heard such chaos, such madness, such insanity before. The aliens stood up, clasping their ears as a blow cracked the leftmost aliens knows with lightning speed. Another blow followed, smashing the middles chest and earning an explosion of blood from his mouth. The right one backed onto the ground and tried crawling away before feeling a hand grasp his ankle, which lifted him up and slammed him into a shed off to the side. The Groh by the building watched in horror before aiming their weapons. “What…is this power?” One of them spoke, eyes glowing from the hive mind.

“Free bird motherfuckers.” The sergeant spoke softly before raising his hand and delivering a lightning bolt to the group.

(It’s cheesy I know but there’s no way I could make this any more serious, hope you enjoyed!)

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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