Same Time
September 25, 2001 AD
North American Strategic Defense Command (NORAD), Underneath Pike's Peak, Colorado, United States of America
The General gaped at the readings coming out of the sensors.
"Is this information accurate?" he said, his mouth dry as cotton.
"Yes, sir. It just happened barely a minute ago."
The General hurried towards a large red phone on the wall that connected directly to the White House. "Mr. President, we have a situation here. The Brits have gone nuclear."
September 26, 2001 AD
The War Room, Beneath the White House, Washington DC, United States of America
The President rubbed his temples, trying to rub away the splitting headache he felt coming on. "What's it look like, John?"
Secretary of State Hedges cleared his throat. "Sir, at 11:45 PM, London time, the British launched a massive nuclear strike on the Irish island. We picked up 4 separate atomic detonations, over the cities of Belfast, Cork, Shannon River, and one over the Irish Navy just off the southwest coast of Ireland"
"Dammit. I suppose we should have seen it coming, though. How many dead?"
"Unsure sir, but it is likely that all the inhabitants of those cities are dead."
President Utonium looked up and saw his SecState was quite unhappy with the next bit of information. He sighed and said, "There's something else, isn't there?"
"Dublin was vaporized . . .with a thermonuclear warhead"
The President, instantly revitalized, bolted upright in his seat. "They used WHAT?! Since when do the British have a thermo-fucking-nuclear warhead?! What is Germany saying about this?!"
"The Germans are pissed-off, sir. Berlin's screaming their heads off over the fallout being blown into Normandy."
"No nuclear threats?"
"Yes, one. Basically the same one we got. 'No more nukes, or we'll blow you away' stuff."
A sad smile crossed the President's face. "Not much left of Ireland to nuke now. What's the British government saying?"
"The Prime Minister has claimed full responsibility for the use, and the Queen has shown that she approved the nuke plan. Also, Britain has agreed to Irish independence."
The President smirked. He had known Gregory since before his election as President. He certainly didn't seem like the type to use nuclear bombs on Ireland. The granting of independence fit, though; the irony of it was just like him.
"Ok, enough about Britain, what about the Russians?"
September 26, 2001 AD
The Ruins of Dublin, Ireland
Buttercup sat up and coughed, the harsh spasms helping to reawaken her senses.
Pain came first, pain burning deep into her back and head.
Then was sound, and the creepy silence caused a shiver to run down her spine.
Feeling worked its way down her hands, registering the blood dripping from her.
Finally, her sight came back, and she beheld a city transformed.
The 35-megaton blast had torn Dublin into shreds. No building remained, only a vast plain of burnt ground and ash.
The wall she had leaped over had saved her life, the thick stones shielding large amount of the radiation and sheer force of the blast. Nevertheless, she could feel the radiation she had absorbed eroding her cells as she sat there.
Buttercup stood up and tried to stretch. It wasn't long before a blinding pain rocked her body. Reaching a hand back, she found her cloak and the back of her shirt had been melted off. The skin of her back was scorched and burned, the fierce, twisting marks sometimes melding into the pieces of cloak that hadn't been vaporized.
She was glad for the Chemical X in her bloodstream. The presence of the chemical had saved her life, and was even now working to restore her back.
'I'll be ok . . .' she said doubtfully. 'I gotta see if there's anyone else alive . . .'
She scanned the area, searching for life, any life at all. Spotting shapes against the remains of a building in the distance, she slowly took flight and hovered over to them.
As she got into range, her vision improved. She suddenly stopped and brought her hands up to her mouth, trying to hold back the retching.
Burned into the ruined wall were 4 shadows. Two larger ones, probably a man and woman. The woman had been holding a small bundle when the Bomb had exploded. Also scorched into the wall was the shadow of a dog in mid-jump, caught unawares by the power of the hydrogen bomb.
Buttercup fell to her knees, unable to hold back the sickness any longer. The sound of her retching was the only sound in what was once Dublin.
November 19, 2001 AD
Hanger 3, Area 51, Nevada Desert, United States of America
"Awesome!" was Blossom's remark as she beheld the newest innovation from the massive laboratories of Area 51.
The object in question was a large suit of armor. Not a suit of armor like the Middle Ages, but a suit that totally shielded its user. The outside was a titanium-alloy with a thin diamond coating, while the inside held a gooey gelatin substance to absorb blows.
The full list of gadgets and gizmos in this suit took up 200 pages. This suit was nearly invincible, incredibly powerful, and totally kick-ass!
And it was all America's . . . the Armored Combat Suit.
"Very impressive, General." Blossom smiled. "With this, maybe we can beat back the Chinks."
"Yes, it will definitely be a great asset. I've already authorized a few for combat. We'll be getting the results back soon . . ."
November 20, 2001 AD
Hell's Creek, Montana, United States of America
The front line had broken. Swarms of Chinese tanks and soldiers were pushing forward through a massive gap in the enemy lines.
A single American M2 Patton tank roared through a passageway through the forest. Its entire division had been destroyed, and the tank commander had decided to live to fight another day.
That wasn't likely, however. Like bloodhounds after a wounded game animal, the Chinese tanks were closing in, determined to eliminate the last American armored vehicle in the area.
The Patton tank ground to a halt as the commander opened the top hatch and scanned the area. He couldn't stop for long; he could hear the engines of the Chinese as they gained on him. Making a quick check of the area to ensure his position, the commander was about to climb down into his tank when a voice called out from behind a clump of trees.
"Hey buddy, you need a safe place to get to?"
The commander looked towards the sound. "Hell, yeah. Where do we need to go?"
The commander got the shock of his life when a large armored suit stepped out and pointed.
"You can get behind me, commander. I'm part of the 555th ACS division, and the Chinese are going no further."
September 25, 2001 AD
North American Strategic Defense Command (NORAD), Underneath Pike's Peak, Colorado, United States of America
The General gaped at the readings coming out of the sensors.
"Is this information accurate?" he said, his mouth dry as cotton.
"Yes, sir. It just happened barely a minute ago."
The General hurried towards a large red phone on the wall that connected directly to the White House. "Mr. President, we have a situation here. The Brits have gone nuclear."
September 26, 2001 AD
The War Room, Beneath the White House, Washington DC, United States of America
The President rubbed his temples, trying to rub away the splitting headache he felt coming on. "What's it look like, John?"
Secretary of State Hedges cleared his throat. "Sir, at 11:45 PM, London time, the British launched a massive nuclear strike on the Irish island. We picked up 4 separate atomic detonations, over the cities of Belfast, Cork, Shannon River, and one over the Irish Navy just off the southwest coast of Ireland"
"Dammit. I suppose we should have seen it coming, though. How many dead?"
"Unsure sir, but it is likely that all the inhabitants of those cities are dead."
President Utonium looked up and saw his SecState was quite unhappy with the next bit of information. He sighed and said, "There's something else, isn't there?"
"Dublin was vaporized . . .with a thermonuclear warhead"
The President, instantly revitalized, bolted upright in his seat. "They used WHAT?! Since when do the British have a thermo-fucking-nuclear warhead?! What is Germany saying about this?!"
"The Germans are pissed-off, sir. Berlin's screaming their heads off over the fallout being blown into Normandy."
"No nuclear threats?"
"Yes, one. Basically the same one we got. 'No more nukes, or we'll blow you away' stuff."
A sad smile crossed the President's face. "Not much left of Ireland to nuke now. What's the British government saying?"
"The Prime Minister has claimed full responsibility for the use, and the Queen has shown that she approved the nuke plan. Also, Britain has agreed to Irish independence."
The President smirked. He had known Gregory since before his election as President. He certainly didn't seem like the type to use nuclear bombs on Ireland. The granting of independence fit, though; the irony of it was just like him.
"Ok, enough about Britain, what about the Russians?"
September 26, 2001 AD
The Ruins of Dublin, Ireland
Buttercup sat up and coughed, the harsh spasms helping to reawaken her senses.
Pain came first, pain burning deep into her back and head.
Then was sound, and the creepy silence caused a shiver to run down her spine.
Feeling worked its way down her hands, registering the blood dripping from her.
Finally, her sight came back, and she beheld a city transformed.
The 35-megaton blast had torn Dublin into shreds. No building remained, only a vast plain of burnt ground and ash.
The wall she had leaped over had saved her life, the thick stones shielding large amount of the radiation and sheer force of the blast. Nevertheless, she could feel the radiation she had absorbed eroding her cells as she sat there.
Buttercup stood up and tried to stretch. It wasn't long before a blinding pain rocked her body. Reaching a hand back, she found her cloak and the back of her shirt had been melted off. The skin of her back was scorched and burned, the fierce, twisting marks sometimes melding into the pieces of cloak that hadn't been vaporized.
She was glad for the Chemical X in her bloodstream. The presence of the chemical had saved her life, and was even now working to restore her back.
'I'll be ok . . .' she said doubtfully. 'I gotta see if there's anyone else alive . . .'
She scanned the area, searching for life, any life at all. Spotting shapes against the remains of a building in the distance, she slowly took flight and hovered over to them.
As she got into range, her vision improved. She suddenly stopped and brought her hands up to her mouth, trying to hold back the retching.
Burned into the ruined wall were 4 shadows. Two larger ones, probably a man and woman. The woman had been holding a small bundle when the Bomb had exploded. Also scorched into the wall was the shadow of a dog in mid-jump, caught unawares by the power of the hydrogen bomb.
Buttercup fell to her knees, unable to hold back the sickness any longer. The sound of her retching was the only sound in what was once Dublin.
November 19, 2001 AD
Hanger 3, Area 51, Nevada Desert, United States of America
"Awesome!" was Blossom's remark as she beheld the newest innovation from the massive laboratories of Area 51.
The object in question was a large suit of armor. Not a suit of armor like the Middle Ages, but a suit that totally shielded its user. The outside was a titanium-alloy with a thin diamond coating, while the inside held a gooey gelatin substance to absorb blows.
The full list of gadgets and gizmos in this suit took up 200 pages. This suit was nearly invincible, incredibly powerful, and totally kick-ass!
And it was all America's . . . the Armored Combat Suit.
"Very impressive, General." Blossom smiled. "With this, maybe we can beat back the Chinks."
"Yes, it will definitely be a great asset. I've already authorized a few for combat. We'll be getting the results back soon . . ."
November 20, 2001 AD
Hell's Creek, Montana, United States of America
The front line had broken. Swarms of Chinese tanks and soldiers were pushing forward through a massive gap in the enemy lines.
A single American M2 Patton tank roared through a passageway through the forest. Its entire division had been destroyed, and the tank commander had decided to live to fight another day.
That wasn't likely, however. Like bloodhounds after a wounded game animal, the Chinese tanks were closing in, determined to eliminate the last American armored vehicle in the area.
The Patton tank ground to a halt as the commander opened the top hatch and scanned the area. He couldn't stop for long; he could hear the engines of the Chinese as they gained on him. Making a quick check of the area to ensure his position, the commander was about to climb down into his tank when a voice called out from behind a clump of trees.
"Hey buddy, you need a safe place to get to?"
The commander looked towards the sound. "Hell, yeah. Where do we need to go?"
The commander got the shock of his life when a large armored suit stepped out and pointed.
"You can get behind me, commander. I'm part of the 555th ACS division, and the Chinese are going no further."