Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway. She shielded her eyes from the flashes of light that arced across the blackened sky, her face soaked with tears, her heart pounding in her chest as the cacophony of noise rattled her skull.

In London, a family huddled together in a corner of their living room, across from the window that had blown itself out from the force of the first impact. They held between them the grandmothers crucifix, praying to their God as if he could save them.

A man stood atop the Eifel Tower, his arms spread wide as below him Paris burned in shades of red and orange. He cried because there was nothing left to do.

The child in New York stood in the middle of Times square, his sister laying dead at his feet, his parents nowhere to be found. He cannot cry - he doesn't understand why this has happened. He's only two.

In the night skies above the Earth, the lights flicker in and out of existence as the shapes push on up through the planets atmosphere. Their work complete, they travel onwards; searching for the next planet to cleanse...