Henry Blackburn slammed the hand-sized piece of rebar into the face of Solomon one final time. His head jerked sharply backwards, smashing into the pavement with a crack. The screams of the surrounding crowd only intensified, but Henry ignored it. He slipped off his handcuffs, and placed both hands on the nuclear casing.

"Jesus, please don't go off, please don't go off."

The sound of a cough of blood, and a cry of help drowned out by a gargle of blood filled his ears. Montes. It took every last fibre of strength for Blackburn to ignore it. He flipped open the top of the casing.

"It's over," he said, finally relived for the first time in the last nine months. He took one last look at the towering skyscrapers and neon lights that adjourned New York.

He never heard the final few beeping noises. Maybe it was the combined screech of the surrounding onlookers, maybe it was Montes making his final, desolate plea of suffering. Maybe he just chose to ignore it.

Either way, Henry James Blackburn died thinking he had saved the world.

The bomb exploded. Blackburn, Montes, and the already quickly dying Solomon felt nothing. It was little compensation to anyone else that Solomon died believing he had failed.

The bomb exploded with immeasurable forced. The skyscrapers were reduced to nothing but dust and ash within nanoseconds.

Agent Kovic was shouting angrily down his phone.

"Yes, a white male, red hair-"

He stopped suddenly, and uttered, "Holy mother of God."

The mushroom cloud burst into the sky, a dark silhouette against the moonlight. Its shroud engulfed the city; the shockwave ruptured along it-

"Get down!" he screamed to Gordon, and tackled the older man beneath the table. Kovic clamped his eyes shut, and waited for death.

He opened them after what could have been either seconds or hours.

"Hey. Hey, Gordon, you okay?"

"Uh, I think so. Shit, what the hell was that?"

Both men righted themselves and were hit with an image of utter desolation.

An infinite tower of cloud expanded up towards the sky. New York was nothing but a smouldering wreck of rubble and rebar.

"He...he was right, wasn't he?" Gordon said it with equal parts disbelief and hopelessness.

Kovic just looked out at city. He probably should have had radiation poisoning. The winds were in his favour; he was one of the closest to the blast to live more than a year. In fact, he lived for six.

Nobody ever knew the story of Henry Blackburn, David Montes, Quinton Cole, Stephen Campo, or Christian Matovic. Kovic, the closest person to know the full story, did his best to convince his superior Millington that Solomon caused the attacks. Henry's interview had been wiped into oblivion by the EMP; with no evidence, he was too late to stop the impending war. Gordon met with Jack Chaffin, now the sole survivor of Misfit squad. He didn't have much to say; he never saw Henry after Swordbreaker bar a few hospital visits.

Russia was blamed for the attack. Their aggression in Ukraine, coupled with the fact that NATO wanted an easy target to blame, made them the prime suspects. Maybe if saner heads ran Russia, peace could have prevailed. Instead, Putin responded by attempting to annex the Baltic States.

NATO article 4 detailing collective security was put into effect, and a month later three million men and women were dead.