A couple weeks went by and not a sign of death or Westly power, other than America keeping Russia from getting a big head, was seen. It seemed like everyone else had gotten something out of the war, but all Russia got was a kick in the butt for wanting a little land. That little chunk of Germany wouldn't have been missed. Then again, America hated communism, and that was the only reason the Soviets couldn't have Germany for themselves.

Japan was cool this time of year, the wind blowing softly in the urban town. Japan, who had wanted to go to war with his soldiers, was forced to stay home. A quaint little house in the middle of nowhere, close enough to major cities that he could walk to get his groceries, far enough away that he didn't have to deal with people if he didn't want to. His boss wanted him around, sitting in his house, for morale. Japan, personally, didn't understand how just sitting around watching people walk down the street did anyone any good. Then again, he wasn't the guy to argue with his Emperor.

There was a long, deathly howl that buzzed through the air. It wasn't really a siren, just the country groaning in frustration at the hundredth siren this day. It wasn't really the hundredth but it sure did feel like it. Just as one was getting used to the nice silence of the early morning, some stupid dick weed had to flip the switch and sound off the call to bunker alarm. It was a long, drawled howl rather than a siren. It made the hair on ones neck stand on end, made their spine tingle, and their eyes widen. The children, even though their parents told them that it was nothing to worry about, still shivered at the ear-piercing wail.

Usually, people would throw their hands up and run to bomb shelters or underground bunkers. Crawl into tiny caves in the side of cliffs, stare at the planes and hold their breath. Terrified that children would be left on the streets to die and houses would burn. Screaming would fill the air and then...nothing. There would be a still silence in the air. The whole island of Japan would hold their breath for a single second. Then nothing would happen.

That was why no one ran to the shelters this time. Everyone kept to their own waddled down the streets with their children on their hips, men in coats walked to their jobs. A little girl peddled her tricycle down the center of the sidewalk. The sun glistened off the white siding of buildings. Birds tweeted, dogs barked, children laughed. It was just another nice day to be alive on Japan.

There was a low rumble. The people stopped and looked around, unsure if it was in their imaginings or if it was real. Children pondered, innocently, if the rumble was a sound or a feeling on the ground. The little girl peddling her tricycle stopped and looked back at her mother, who motioned for her to come inside. There was a stillness in the air, unnatural and frightening. As if the world was warning them of something.

Japan stood from his mat, he could feel the ground rumble under his feet. The rumble grew louder, faster even. It felt like it could be an earthquake, but something wasn't right about it. It was too planned. Too coincidental that the rumbling happened so quickly after the siren. The hair on his arms stood straight on end, a fear crept into the air.

There was a point of light in the sky, so bright that it seemed like the sun paled in comparison. It streaked, lightning fast, and seared its way across the sky. Like a blade it tore the sky open and filled it with a blinding and menacing brightness that blinded anyone who looked at it. Before Japan could even look at it he was knocked over by the ever-growing rumble beneath him. Over the edge of his windowsill he saw a fire. A fire that grew from the ground, standing, and clawed its way to the sky. A black center formed, pushing out a ring of cloud that circled the whole mushroom made of fire. A wind, made of pure power, pushed over anything in its path.

Houses were blown apart like a poorly build house of cards. Streets were uprooted and turned into rubble. Buildings knocked over as if by a child. The air became bubbling hot, thick, impossible to breathe. Japan covered his face with his arms, but the sight he had just saw would haunt him forever.

People screamed a scream that the world had never heard before. A cry that everyone had expected but was not prepared for. A scream that was cut off eerily by ash. Japan stood, insecure of his own footing and stumbled out of his house. His eyes burned, his throat was on fire, and his skin felt like it was trying to melt. He looked up again, shielding his eyes with his hand. The fire that shone so menacingly in the background, from this distance, didn't even look bigger than his hand.

A woman next to him looked at him, clawing her way out of the rubble of her home. "The war...is..."

Japan shushed her, pulling her out of the rubble. She stood, leaning on him for support. "We will remain. We will prevail." Japan gave her that promise. One that he didn't even believe in.

He helped her over to his home, half of which was completely destroyed. But it was better than sitting out in the middle of nowhere, waiting for something to fall on them. There was no point in moving at this point. There was nowhere to go. Not with the monster raging in the distance.

Suddenly, without warning, it began to snow. A gray sleet that cut its way towards the ground, gritty and thick. Japan looked at the woman beside him, her breathing shallow and soft. He knew she would be dead before the day ended.

Japan ran for nearly three hours. He stopped, nearly collapsing, something glinting in the sky caught his attention. There were three instruments floating down to the ground. The parachutes jutting out just before they hit the ground. Japan frowned, it was barely eleven.

"Where are the sirens?!" Japan screamed, people turned and looked at him. Realizing who he was, they stared wide eyed. "They're here to kill us all!"

"What?!" They all looked at each other. "The Soviets wouldn't bomb us." Japan took a step back,. They had a point. Russia didn't even have a bomb yet. He remembered whenever America had first created a huge destructive power, but only the allies knew of its true workings. Russia turned practically purple and stomped out of the meeting room. Russia had nothing like what happened in Hiroshima.

The people were stirring, there was a coldness that filled them. A sudden sense of dread. It was far away, nearly ten miles. There in the cloud-break were two aircraft high over the city. No red markings. No horn and tusk. It was as grey and cold as the Americans that piloted them.

Japan gasped for air. He knew what was coming next. He didn't know why or how he knew, but he knew what was next. He was terrified. There was nothing he could do. A man saw his face, realizing what the aircraft meant, or at least thinking he did, he exclaimed "Why are they doing this...mass extermination?" Japan looked at him. "What can we do?"

"Nothing..." Japan admitted, biting his own tongue. "But hide and hope."