Those poor, poor sons of bitches.

See, as humans, we've seen a bit in our existence as a species. We've seen civil war, more civil war, actually now that I think about it, a lot of civil war if you consider war between any humans to be "civil." To be honest though? We got pretty good at it.

Strategic Reconnaissance Aircraft that can travel at Mach 3, weapons with the capability to wipe out a continent at the press of a button, the population of Florida, the AA-12, and whatever the hell Americans were thinking when they made the A-10 Warthog.

TL;DR: Lot o' shit. So we thought after 50 years of being in the galactic community, we thought could handle the Jakosöns. Insectoid parasites that can replace your fucking spine.

There were only about 3.5 billion of us left. The rest were either taken or....

Or they decided not to continue.

Backed not into a corner, but a compact ball, the walking corpses of our international comrades mocking us daily.
The galaxy stood still. Not one out of the 7 species they had began infecting had survived them yet, so why would we be any different?

Simple. As a group of us were barricaded in the white house, yes, Washington DC, one of us did something stupid.
He loaded two rounds into a double barrel shotgun, took a speaker and his phone out of his backpack.

"Right then. We're already gonna die, so let's make sure they don't forget the god damn time they had."

The music he played that day....
Oh how I forgot it until he played.

Right in sync and on cue to the words, the doors were blasted open from the inside.

After 3 days, there weren't any of the fuckers left in DC. So? We got a couple of humvees and a fuck ton o' speakers, and a year and a half later, there was more of us than them.

Those bastards spent the last half a year in fear of the sound of the storm approaching. Or, to be more specific:

Vergil's theme song from Devil May Cry 5.