[ WP ] Earth becomes the battleground for two warring alien races , both of which claim to be humanity 's `` protectors ''

“ Mr. President, God is here to see you ” crackled the speakerphone. The leader of the Free World frowned and cocked his head. 
 
 “ Excuse me? ” he asked. 
 
 “ Oh, he ’ s coming up on his own, sir. There ’ s really not much we can do to stop him. ” 
 
 A change came over the President ’ s face, taking it from confusion to concern. He looked up towards the door. What did his screener mean? Is this a joke? Should he let his Secret Service know? His pondering was interrupted by screams and gunshots from outside the Oval Office, immediately cut off by an explosion of light slamming the doors open. 
 
 The President dove down under his desk, and pulled out his phone to call for help. It didn ’ t turn on. The room was nearly silent. He heard no movement, no words from the men who were supposed to be guarding the doors, nothing. Only his own heavy breathing and a soft, songlike hum. Light began to flow around the sides of his desk, pooling up near his chair and spilling into the cavity he was hiding in. The hum got louder as the source of this light began to lower itself down, down in front of him. The light, as brilliant and beautiful as it was, wasn ’ t blinding. It was, in fact, rather soothing, like cream, cooling his flesh and softening his eyes. The form itself was so delicate, so fragile, it made one feel nothing but sympathy, that it must be protected from the slightest breeze. It was transparent and shapeless, with a multitude of thin, threadlike appendages dangling from it like golden hair. The tentacles splayed out all around the form, and one drifted gently forward, seemingly guided by an invisible current, and rested itself on the President ’ s forehead. 
 
 “ I didn ’ t mean to startle you, child'' 
 
 The message popped into the President's head, coming as naturally as one of his own thoughts. It became immediately clear to him what was happening, but for whatever reason he found no desire to stop it. Everything seemed to be as it had to be. 
 
 “ I ’ ve come to help you, ” said the thoughts, “ we ’ ve been watching over you for a while. ” The President, his limbs shaking, managed to pull himself out from under the desk and to his feet. “ God ” floated around him, back towards the door. He saw his guards, family, and associates, all calmly standing at attention, their eyes transfixed on the entity hovering before them. 
 
 “ You ’ ve found favor with the Chorus. ” The message washed over the minds of everyone in the room. The President felt tears beginning to form in his eyes. 
 
 “ We ’ ll take it from here. You deserve a rest. ” 
 
 The President understood. Everything made sense to him. This was it; the end of war, the end of poverty, the end of death. Everything would be set the way it should. He got down onto his knees, and raised his hands to his Savior. The bliss was torn apart by an earthquake slamming him onto his stomach. Immediately the President found himself back in control of his emotions, and all he felt now was fear. The mysterious form lost its luminescence, withdrew its tendrils, and fell to the ground, hardening into a lump of what appeared to be iron. The President forced himself to his feet as the floor continued to shake, and his guards swarmed around him to escort him off the premises. 
 
 But, as soon as it began, it stopped. The President and his company found themselves rushing to the window to see what happened. The Washington Monument was gone, and where it once was a gigantic, metallic serpent now circled. A voice began bellowing out of it, causing the windows to shake with every word. The speech was unmistakably Arabic. The iron on the floor once again erupted into luminescence, causing another great blast to rock the room. The President found bliss once again flowing over his senses. 
 
 “ They were supposed to stay out of this, ” came the thoughts, 
 “ our job isn ’ t going to be as easy as we said it was. ” 

