I noticed the strange things rising up from the sea when I was halfway across the bridge, still a hundred feet above the village. There was only one at first, and then within seconds there were millions, as far as the eye could see. Large chunks of lumpy, twisted metal, ranging in size from neighborhoods to fingernails, shooting up into the sky at rocket speed. They banged against the bridge and rocked it hard enough to knock me off my feet. Terrified and confused, I jumped on my space board, hovering uncertainly in the air. A shower of metal seared up my arms and face.
A five-year-old could trick their way through the security, and there were barely enough people to even keep the place running. The only things that were fully operational were the interrogation and execution rooms. And the coffee makers.