Several miles outside Bluffton, Ohio
10:30 PM
December 22, 2010
Northwest Ohio could be described as Anywhere, USA. It was mostly flat farmland, with several small wooded areas here and there. Most of the population was held up in small towns and cities, the smallest housing about 850 people. The largest city was Toledo, which had a rich history, but a dark future with the murder rates and civil strife that reflected the future of the country.
A man cursed as his car-an early 2000's sedan-hit a large patch of ice on the road, losing traction for a moment before it was regained.
"It's nothing Dad, just hit some ice on 103," He said into his smartphone. A flash caught his eye in his peripheral vision, and he looked out to some of the small forests dotting the landscape. He saw some kind of blue glow from behind the stripped branches of the trees. He blinked, and it was gone. The strange sight was lost to memory when his father made a witty remark. "I know, and I had my AC on the other night!" He sighed. "Fuckin' Ohio, man. Where you have your AC and heater on in the same week."
The music playing from his radio started to leak into the phone's microphone. "Yeah, it's that music from that weird puppet movie. Team America World Police? Yeah, I can turn it up." He adjusted the volume of the radio, which had a CD inside it that he programmed.
"Terrorist your game is through 'cause now you have to answer too
America, fuck yeah!
So lick my butt and suck on my balls
America, fuck yeah!
What you gonna to do when we come for you now!"
His eyes widened as a small creature wandered onto the road, its ringed tail dragging on the ground. He saw the light of his headlights reflect into its ringed eyes for a moment before it was sucked under the tires. David dropped his phone and put both hands on the steering wheel, swerving with the crash. The car dove engine-first into a ditch, the airbags deploying before impact.
He regained consciousness moments later, pushing down the airbags with a flail of his arms. He looked through his cracked-open windshield to see smoke pouring out form under his hood, telltale signs that something was wrong with his engine. His gaze fell down to his speedometer, and he saw his phone sitting there, his lock screen of an American flag on proud display. He grabbed it slowly and rubbed the surface of the screen with his thumb. His invest into a lifeproof case was worth it, as the smartphone-notorious for being easy to break-had come out of the whole incident with a few scuffs.
He noticed he was looking at his lock screen, which meant that his father had hung up on him sometime during the crash and was looking for him, probably bringing Uncle John and Uncle Dan with him.
Next he checked the passenger seat, seeing his backpack still there. He scoured through the Velcro-locked pockets to see if anything had flown out. He went through one of the pockets and pulled out a military patch. He smiled at the patch, rubbing his thumb over the stitching of Old Abe. He had brought it back from his uniform for his kid brother.
He was apart of the 101st Airborne Division as a designated marksman. His uncle-the historical fanboy that he was-was even more elated to learn that he was assigned to E Company of the 506th Regiment, spade and all.
He spent another minute checking his bag, which he had packed for a two-week stay with his parents for the holidays. He doubted he had to bring any clothes, his mom had said that they hadn't touched a thing since he had been over from one of his deployments three years earlier.
Just as he was about to leave, he opened the CD rack of the car. The rack slowly came out, the pieces of his mixtape clattering to the floor in several pieces.
Pulling up on the zipper of his fleece jacket and grabbing his backpack, he moved to open his car. The door wouldn't budge, but was persuaded to open after he kicked it open. He stepped out, his boots crunching in the fluffy snow falling from the night sky. He peered down to look at the tire, the light on his phone activated. He grimaced at the sight-the raccoon's remains covered the left tire, and its bones seemed to have punctured the rubber.
"Fuck," He muttered, turning off the light, "There goes my insurance. Fuck, that's still on Dad, what'll he-" He stopped his angry muttering and looked to the road. In the center of the road was a light blue sphere of pure energy, with small drips of the stuff as blue as the ocean falling off occasionally and landing on the asphalt, quickly evaporating.
Morbid curiosity pushed him out of his trance and urged him to take a step forward. He did so, and the sphere pulsed, its color shifting to a warm red. He took another step, and the sphere changed its color to a stark white. One more step, and it instantly changed to a deep red. Something inside it gave it more gravity than Jupiter, and it began pulling him in. He gasped and fell backwards as he lost his footing, grabbing the edge of the road. He screamed as he felt the pull become stronger, and his fingers lose their grip. Within moments, he lost it all together and was thrown toward the glowing red ball.
The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a Hammer, a Sickle and a Star.
His vision came back quick and unclear. All he could see from his position lying on his back was a blob of light colors way above him. He rubbed his eyes, rubbing the blurriness out of them.
He blinked once after his vision cleared, not believing what he was seeing. It was the Apotheosis of George Washington, the painting that was on the ceiling of the Capitol Building's rotunda. He sat up, and looked around. He was in a completely white...nothingness. The only things with him was the painting floating in the sky and an old TV sitting on a small wooden table, two antennas sticking out of it. He guessed it was made around the late 80s, maybe 1987. It would've been something that his dad would've watched shows on-
He looked to his left and saw a person sitting there. He jumped back, holding in a shriek of fright. He calmed down, and studied the teenage boy. Short, spiky black hair, the beginning of a goatee, small circular glasses, enormous muscles-He was looking at his father at fifteen years of age.
He turned around quickly as he heard sniffles from behind him, and saw his three uncles. Uncle Dan, who-by his appearance now and in old family photos of him holding his infant sons-had just had his kids. Uncle Dave looked like he had just began growing his signature ponytail, which sat behind the same baseball cap he had worn since he was born. And Uncle John, who was leaning against an armchair, his giant arms crossed over his barrel chest, which was covered by a tank top. In the arm chair was his grandpa, gripping the arm rests with a white-knuckle grip, and clutching the arm of Uncle Dave was his grandma.
Gulping, he scrambled to the spot beside his teenage father, he watched the TV screen. It was nothing but static. He almost turned away, then the screen came to life. It was an emergency public broadcast message, emitting the terrible electronic beep that followed a terrible, nation-wide emergency. Scrolls of text came across the screen as a gospel choir sang America the Beautiful from George Washington's painting. But he didn't pay it no mind, completely numb as he read what came on the television.
Emergency Alert System
United States Government Issued a Government Shutdown
"This is a message from the Office of the president of the United States."
The screen cut back to static momentarily to show footage of a full-scale riot in the streets of a large city. From what he could see, it was Los Angeles. It cut to riots of the same magnitude in Detroit, then Baltimore, then St. Louis.
His grandmother murmured something, tears falling down her face.
"The elected government has now resigned."
An amateur cameraman showed a Congressman that he didn't recognize be gunned down in the streets. It cut to a similar shooting, but suited and uniformed men dove on the target. He had just witnessed the attempted assassination of Ronald Regan.
"All control over regions has been relinquished to state governors."
A balcony holding a majority of the Soviet government standing on a balcony, slapping vigorously. Behind them was a ripped apart American flag. The static came and was replaced with a young American man, clad in jeans and sporting a mullet, standing on top of a smokestack with a Soviet flag in his hand, waving it merrily.
"The United States has been dissolved."
The United States has been dissolved
Hearts of Iron: Red World