Story time, anyone?

I noticed the section of the Art and Stuff home that mentions writers, but I've never seen anything in here of the sort, so I decided to try my hand at something. This is my first time writing creatively in a while, so it's not perfect, but [b]please[/b] feel free to leave constructive criticism below, I'd appreciate the help. I'm making this public so I hope more people can see it and comment. It's not too long, so I'd appreciate if you all could read the whole thing before commenting. [b][u]Thanks![/u][/b] _____________________ONE He walked slowly down the streets of what he once would have called his home. The air would normally have been filled with the sounds of vehicles, of aircraft flying overhead, of people simply living their lives. Now, only the sounds of his own footsteps and his steady breathing remained. He stepped over a piece of metal, so blackened and misshapen it was impossible to tell what it once might have been. His thoughts wandered to the others. How many of them remained? Where were they? The odds of anyone else surviving were slim, of finding them even slimmer, but it was not impossible. He entertained the thought of searching for them for a moment, then forced himself to focus on the mission at hand. Turning his attention to the destroyed cityscape around him, he realized he had lost track of where he had walked. He looked upward. The sun…that shattered skyscraper in the distance…his bearings returned to him. He arrived at an intersection, stepped carefully around the crater that took up most of the open area, and turned north. He walked this way among the ruins for an hour or so, until something changed. Puzzled, he came to a stop. Looking around, his surroundings were no different. The same empty sky, same destroyed buildings, same silent, empty streets. But still, something was off. He clicked the safety off on his rifle and raised it to his shoulder. He looked around again, much more closely this time. A darkened doorway off to his right caught his eye. He flicked on the infrared viewer in his helmet. Nothing appeared on the display aside from the normal background heat. He switched it off again. It bothered him, though, so he raised his rifle to firing position and stepped quietly and slowly toward the door. Each step was smooth and cautious as he advanced. Broken glass crunched underneath his boot, and he paused, holding his breath, and remained motionless. Nothing moved. The air was still. The oppressive silence remained. Something was definitely wrong, however. Every nerve in his body tingled. He lowered his body into a ready stance and crept silently toward the doorway. Then, he was there. One step more, and he would enter the darkness within. He hesitated. His instincts, honed by years of training and combat, screamed at him, warning him away from taking the step that would take him in there. It was impossible for him to shake the feeling that something waited for him, obscured by the darkness inside. He stepped into the shadows. Nothing happened. He held there for a moment, as though surprised by the lack of response the dark gave him. He became unsure of his earlier feelings, but still something bothered him. He couldn’t help but wonder if the constant wear of the last few years of his life had made him too edgy, too jumpy. Then, motion. A shadow exploded toward him from the darkness, and he dove to the side to avoid it. Too slow, the armored being slammed into him, throwing him across the darkened room to hit the wall and fall on the floor in a cloud of dust. The room seemed to spin wildly in random, disorienting patterns. He coughed and struggled to rise. Standing unsteadily, he tried to clear his head and respond to his attacker. He brought his rifle, somehow still in his hands, to firing position and tried to find his enemy in the darkness. He opened up with his rifle into the darkness, and heard a few rounds ping and spark off of the armor of his attacker. Using the direction of the sounds and the flashes as a target, he threw a grenade, closed his eyes, and dove for the floor. The grenade went off with a boom that shook the building around them, and shrapnel flew over him as he lay on the ground. A hole opened up in the floor, and debris fell away into the sub-floors below. His attacker howled, but he could still hear it coming for him. He sprang up and turned on the light on his weapon. Now, he finally saw his enemy. Well over seven feet tall, it was covered from head to toe in black armor. Bio-mechanical muscles showed through the gaps in the armor, little more vulnerable than the metal encasing it. It had a torso similar to that of a human’s, albeit with long arms ending in sharp claws on its hands. The legs, on the other hand, had an extra set of joints, and it had a long, whip-like tail, giving it the appearance of a raptor of sorts. It growled at him, revealing rows of sharp teeth, adding to the appearance. Disoriented by the explosion and blinded by the flash of light, it hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. He sprinted forward, pulled the pin on another grenade, and dropped his rifle. Whether by chance or design, as the rifle fell, the light remained fixed on his attacker. He leaped into the air, curled his hand into a fist and drew it back, and delivered a punch with everything he had behind it into the thing’s face. Metal clashed with metal, sparks flew, and the thing stumbled backwards, stunned by the force of the blow. He took the grenade and shoved it hard into his attacker’s chest. The adhesive normally used to keep it attached to his thigh stuck it there, and he pulled his legs up to his chest and kicked forward as hard as he could. His feet connected, and the thing was knocked flailing over the edge of the hole and into the even deeper shadows below. He hit the ground and looked down just before the grenade went off. The thing vanished in a flash of light and sound. Dust and debris falling down into the many sub-floors of the building were all that remained. The rifle hit the ground. The sound brought him back to his senses. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his breath was loud and heavy inside his helmet. His armor was running diagnostics to determine his and his armor’s status, as well as providing him with information on his surroundings. He silenced the notifications and stood up. The mechanical muscles of his armor moved smoothly with him. Stepping over to his rifle, he picked it up and flicked the light off. After loading a new clip into it, he found the door and walked toward it. He stepped out into the sunlight and was relieved by its warmth. The armor’s power supply began storing energy, and he paused there for a moment, simply enjoying the light. Then, he checked his rifle and armor, and looked upward once again. There was the skyscraper, its broken silhouette standing alone in the skyline among the ruins of the city. He turned toward it and started to walk away. He stopped, and turned to look back at the doorway he had come from. It looked no different from how he found it. Its outer appearance gave no hints of the battle that had raged within hit only a minute before. He pulled out another grenade and tossed it to himself a few times before pulling the pin and giving it an underhand toss toward the door. He turned away and began walking again as the grenade blew up, destroying the front of the building and burying it in thousands of pounds of cement and metal. Dust and debris settled, and all was still once more as he walked on, alone, toward the remains of the skyscraper.