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His skin was burning and felt like it was strung tightly over his hurting muscles. His eyes were filled with tears and the smoke coming at him from every direction did nothing to help clear his vision. Dust rose in large clouds around him, settling on his torn and dirty clothes like another skin, adding to the overall bedraggled look. It had taken him hours to get out from under the collapsed building and he was tired and word. And he was hungry. The Hunger burned like a fire deep inside of him, creating a yearning for food that was nearly overpowering him. His injuries aggravated the situation by ten times. As long as he was injured his body wanted food; to heal him, to make him whole again. But he had not time for this now.
With an angry gesture he tried to clean some dirt off his face, wincing as he encountered open wounds. He looked around.
Nothing but death and destruction reigned around him. Collapsed buildings, torn streets, burning wrecks of cars and trucks and motor bikes. Lamp posts had simply melted down into a barely recognizable heap, covering the former sidewalk and street. He had witnessed a lot of destruction in his time, a lot of death throughout the centuries, but this was by far the greatest massacre he had ever seen. Nothing, no war, no fight, no battle the human race had  waged against each other, had ever produced this ... this total obliteration. This had been no war...
Suddenly he remembered the others, those who had been with him in the now completely destroyed building. Slowly he turned. The building no longer existed; not even a single wall of it. There was nothing but a large heap of blackened and burned rocks, a heap he had crawled out from under. And beyond the building that had once been the police precinct were nothing but more destroyed homes and shops and offices. Toronto was a desolate desert, silent and burning. Now and then something exploded or sparked, but else there was nothing.
He had been in the basement of the precinct at the time of the explosion. He and ... Nathalie.
She was dead.
He knew it with a certainty that was terrifying. He could not feel her, or hear her, just like he couldn't feel or hear another living being anywhere around him. Everything was dead and destroyed, his friends, his home for the last years, everything. But he was alive, standing in the middle of a field of death and destruction like many times before, while everyone else had not survived.
Anger and rage rose inside of him and he looked up into the sky, which was blocked by the massive disk of the alien attacker. The alien space craft was slowly moving away from him, opening up the sky to his eyes, moving to its next target.
An inhuman scream tore out of his throat, echoing through the eerie silence of death, greeting the soft grey of the next morning.

And at the horizon the pure, golden yellow disk of the sun rose slowly, casting rays of light that were as deadly as the energy ray of the alien ship. Her beams seemed to carefully brush over the ground, caress the broken homes of million. He looked toward the sun, his eyes emotionless, his will to live only a mere shadow inside his already dead body.
Nick Knight opened his arms and greeted the deadly embrace of the sun with a calm and serenity he hadn't felt in 800 years.

Today was the third of July.