About forty miles northeast of Las Vegas, Nevada, there's a piece of land that's hard to tell if it's part of this earth or if it's a Martian landscape. The rocks are sandstone, dyed bright red with iron, twisted over the eons by rains and erosion.

In the middle of this red blasted landscape, the only movements are the small desert creatures native to the area. Normally, this time of day, there are tourists clambering over the rocks. Taking pictures and marveling at the landscape, touched by the natural beauty of the Valley of Fire.

There are no tourists on this world anymore.

A single jackrabbit thumps and pounds across the sand. Then freezes. Raises its head.

FPOOM!

The jackrabbit is off and running away, not looking back at the nine figures that just PINpointed there.