As afternoon falls upon a desert scene, sands are tossed every which way into wispy yellow clouds. The wind whispers faintly through a chiselled stone city. But the wind can hardly be heard in contrast to the other, louder noises echoing in the distance.

Footsteps.

Hundreds of them, completely unified in a ground-shaking march, making their way towards the city. An elderly dark-skinned man raises himself from a bench outside of his dome-shaped stone residence to greet the booming visitors. There is a quick, bellowing noise. The man clutches his stomach, and falls to his knees. And in no time, the city is filled with this horrible noise.

Gunshots.

As the city's citizen's fall left and right, the predators move in. They flood through the village like a plague, pursuing the death of all it touches. The citizens resist. They rush to a large open fire in the center of the city, setting torches aflame, and tossing them at their apparent enemy. But they are far overpowered by the predators' weapons.

Screams.

It seems as if the city itself howls in anguish. Bodies are scattered everywhere, victims to the sudden onslaught. After the gunshots and screaming subside, the predators' leader casually searches through the sandy streets, in pursuit of survivors. Once satisfied with the casualties, he gives a simple nod to his soldiers. Their synchronized steps echo once again as they evacuate the city. The sands settle into a blood-stained plain, and the scene begins to dim.

Nightfall.