Suburbs of Los Angeles

California, United States of America

Though the 1940s was a dark time in the world's history, to the people of any one nation, they always felt most affected by such dark times, with the US being no different. With the nuclear detonation over Pearl Harbor and the ongoing Missile Crisis, not to mention the simmering racial tensions, it all felt like it was going to hell in a handbasket really quickly.

Admittedly, some of the locals of the United States' West Coast were hard hit for specific reasons. In many cases, most were refugees or the children of refugees that escaped Mainland Asia after the victory of the Axis and the creation of the Co-Prosperity Sphere. Chinese, Malay, Burmese, Filipino folk and the whole nine yards.

One such inhabitant was currently washing the dishes in her own family home. Situated in a sleepy Cul-de-Sac in the outskirts of one of the United States' most busiest cities, the Lee Family Home was quiet. It was one of a dozen such houses, a two-floor place whose only distinguishing features were some bits and bobs of Republic of China Paraphernalia.

Within the old house, where pictures of the family's long-lost days in their home town back on the Chinese Mainland hanged off the walls by the entrance or were sat in frames neatly arranged on shelves above the shoe rack, a young woman watched the black-and-white television, her blue eyes peering through a pair of high-prescription, black-framed glasses.

She sighed, slumping back into the couch as the same news as two days ago started playing. The Hawaiian Missile Crisis was one of the biggest issues currently covered by every major News network in the Continental United States. Nuclear missiles had been set up by the Imperial Japanese on the occupied State of Hawaii and the entire government was on one hell of a short fuse.

She was happy to know that they weren't the only ones, though. The Japs were probably just as tightly wound-up as the entire United States, meaning that missile base was either gonna go away, or someone was about to End the World. She trusted the former to happen more than the latter, though, considering they had John F. Kennedy talking to Tokyo…

The entrance door swung open and the click of heels filled the girl's ear. She turned, though still sat on the couch, then smiled as she saw the woman entering and dropping her black work heels off and kicking them to the side, breathing a sigh of relief as she rubbed her feet. The door shut quietly behind the woman, who looked back, walked over to lock it, then walked back toward the living room-

"Hey, mom," Her daughter greeted her, causing her to stumble. The girl chuckled a little and said, "Sorry for the scare. Back from work so soon?" as she examined her mother's work attire. A cream jacket, white shirt, tie, earrings, cream office skirt and black leggings. She had a brooch with the family crest of two dancing Dragons around an emerald on the left of her chest.

The woman breathed a sigh, then said, "Hey, Jasmine… They sent us home the moment representatives from Mitsubishi came in," referring to the other Chinese generation zero Refugee workers as 'us'. She undid the buttons of her jacket and sat down next to her daughter, asking, "They still rambling on about the Missile Bases?"

"I know, right?" The girl snorted, "Should just let LeMay airstrike the bastards already…"

"Much as I agree," The Lee Matriarch mumbled, "I don't think we need a shooting war right now. We're still going over budgetary concerns as a subsidiary to McDonnell-Douglas and I'd very much like to get the pay raise to build us a nuclear shelter," then she grinned. The young Lee chuckled at that, before her mother inquired, "Your father isn't back yet?" as she gazed at an empty spot on the coat rack.

The young Lee, Jasmine, a sixteen-year-old in barely her second year of high school, sighed and said, "He called from Washington. Said something massive came up and he's still stuck at the Pentagon. Apparently the MoD thinks whatever new doohickey they created is important enough to keep Haoyu Lee away from home…"

"I'm sure it is," The woman chuckled, rubbing her eyes, "Ugh, I need to make dinner…"

"I'll help if you need it," The Lee youngster asked. Her mother smiled, shook her head, then let her be as she went upstairs to change. The young Lee scratched her cheek, stood up as well and went to help anyways, prepping the table as there was really nothing good on TV. While in the dining room, which was only separated from the kitchen by a wall and a thin door, the girl stopped to look at said wall.

An old, worn white sun flag hung next to the US one, a sign of the mutual cooperation between the Republic of China and their closest ally during those dark days. It was honestly kind of cliche, Jasmine thought to herself, that they kept so much of the stuff. She was pretty sure her dad still had a Chinese-made C96 broomhandle somewhere in his office.

She smiled a little, remembering how a certain someone loved that thing, then paused to look over at her mother entering the kitchen. The woman had changed into a baggy shirt and comfortable leggings to allow herself some breathing room when she entered their well-stocked kitchen to cook dinner. Walking over and leaning against the door frame, Jasmine watched her mom cook.

"John's parents called, too," The girl spoke, "Trying to make sure we're alright. Apparently, there's rumors of some kind of escaped convict from a prison nearby."

"In our quiet little part of town," The Lee Matriarch murmured, then chuckled, "Oh, that won't be anything to worry about, dear," before she pulled back a drawer and caressed what Jasmine soon realized was that same broomhandle Mauser copy she was thinking about moments before. Or was it another pistol?

Eh, didn't matter much.

The doorbell rang, which caused both women to jump slightly, Jasmine's mother grabbing the pistol's grip while Jasmine herself tensed. A familiar voice, however, caused both of them to calm down, a young man calling out, "Jaz, you home!?" as he knocked again. Jasmine's mom looked at her with a smirk, while 'Jaz' rolled her eyes, blushing a little.

She walked to the door and opened it, greeting him with, "Hey, Big Mac," and smiling. The young man before her stood at about a head taller than her and had been one of her childhood friends since the earliest days of the Lee Family's life in the US. Since she could remember, really. Taking a step back, she said, "C'mon in."

"Thanks," He smiled and then sniffed the air, stating, "Oh, damn, you guys are cooking dinner? Didn't mean to intrude."

"It's never a problem, John! C'mon in! We have plenty!" Jaz's mom called out fondly, long before Jaz herself could say a damn thing, causing the younger Lee to blush. John was a little awkward as he walked in, smelling the usual stuff Jaz's mom liked to cook. Famed Chinese dishes with some American twists here and there, to the point where whenever John visited, he wound up eating with them.

"Thanks, Miss Lee!" John replied respectfully, hands in his bomber jacket's pockets. He turned toward the living room, hearing the TV talking about a struggle in Germany as Hitler was less and less present in public life. He snorted and murmured, "See you in Hell, Adolph," before looking at Jasmine and asking, "How're you two doing, Jaz?"

"We're alright. Your family warned us that there's some weirdo walking our Cul-De-Sac trying to kill people, though," She answered kindly as she grabbed the remote from nearby. The girl switched channels to one with older movies, before asking John, "You hear anything new on your side? You're the one who keeps saying you're gonna go Army as soon as you're out of High School…"

"I mean, there's been some weird rumors and people moving about, but nothing much," John Charlie 'Big Mac' Tibbets, nicknamed after General Douglas MacArthur, God bless him with a long life, replied to his dear friend. He told her, "Bright lights were spotted over Nevada again, though, like back with that 'Roswell' thing, so,' before giving a slight shrug, unsure.

"Heh, what? Japanese test-flight or Aliens?" She giggled, "Maybe the Krauts landing one of their own little moon explorer things here by mistake, even?" and she let him in, showing him to take his boots off at the entrance. Complying with his friend, John simply stared at the pictures on the walls of the family and, obviously, the few most recent ones with them as kids. A little melancholy pinged his heart.

"Doubt it's any of those," He replied absentmindedly, looking away from the pictures as he fully removed his boots, revealing clean white socks. He added, "Maybe some lost lantern or weather balloon," with a certain level of nonchalance. He set the boots aside so they weren't in the way, then followed the girl to the couch.

"Same excuse as with Roswell. It makes sense, though," Jaz shrugged. She hummed, thought for a moment and stated, "That or maybe it's one of our newfangled Spy Planes having some issues," as she and John finally sat down. The U-2 was probably the sole known US Spy Plane. Known. Nobody really knew what other stuff the US Air Force and CIA had hidden in their pockets.

"See, that I can believe. New tech always has teething issues," Tibbets noted as he leaned back. Indeed, US equipment having issues was a pretty bog-standard thing. Everything came with something wrong in its design until they managed to do something or other to fix it. John was well-versed in the current military gear, from the M60 Clark tanks to the M16 and upcoming M16A1, which would iron out the kinks, to the M14 and M60.

"Dad always says 'Military Grade, made by the cheapest bidder because the government doesn't like paying'," The Chinese-born American girl smiled a little as she cracked that joke. She then continued the joke with, "You'd think they wanna pay for the best, but I get the budgetary constraints…" before looking at a pile of papers left by her father.

"Eisenhower always said our home should become the Arsenal of Democracy," The boy, who was her age, spoke calmly. He then told her, "God knows how long it's gonna take'em all to realize that, what with Congress still in deadlock about Hawaii and all the small-time news slipping out of Burgundy," before sighing deeply.

"I can guess I don't want to know what the Burgundy Reports involve," The girl mumbled, scratching her cheek.

"Nah. Probably not," John then replied. He hummed and asked, "You hear from Mary lately? Or Rita?" in order to change subjects. He figured it was best to ask about their other childhood friends, but he also noticed the girl wasn't looking all that happy to be asked about other girls. Admittedly, John had no idea why, but oh, well.

"Mary's away visiting folks down in Tennessee and Rita's out shopping with her folks, so… Y'know," The girl answered, surprisingly calm about it. She did care for their female comrades, but John did not realize just how much of a competition it was for this history nerd. Somehow, he'd managed to scrounge up most of the women who'd deal with his crazy.

"Yeah… How is your dad? He should've been home today, right?" The man asked, causing her to pause. He seemed actually worried for their family. It also didn't take long for Jaz to realize the guy had come to visit them to also keep them safe, should that weirdo 'killer' be around. Though, going by the news in the background, the Police was already working on it.

"DC is keeping him. Pentagon big news, he said," She replied, smiling a little to herself.

"Heh. Well, that's good to hear. Maybe he'll get us some good news," John replied, staring at the TV as an old-timey movie from maybe the 1930s played. Jaz didn't really watch TV all that often, save for keeping tabs on the News, but that was about it. When John was around, though, she did tend to keep the TV on movies.

"I sure hope so," She replied, sighing, then looked John in the eye, "It wouldn't beat him being at home to stay with us for a while, but… At least it might make up for it a little," before she smiled kindly, her face a little red. The Caucasian American shifted a little, nodded in approval, then looked ahead, too.

"Yeah…" He mumbled, then turned back to her, "You okay, Jaz? For real…"

"I am. Don't worry so much," She smiled back at him, nodding. Was he that worried about her?

"Can't blame a guy for worrying about his best friend, can you?" He replied, as if to directly answer her own mental question. It was heartwarming to know that even as he grew a bit older and a bit more jaded, past his years, John C. Tibbets could still retain that care for other people on this plane of existence. She just hoped that, whenever he would join the Army, it would not be stripped from him.

Regardless of that, she simply replied, "I guess not… Thanks," with a tired smile. She cared for him deeply, though she would never really admit it to his face unless she was basically held at gunpoint. Which was something that she felt Mary would do, considering that old girl was about as kooky as John when it came to guns.

"Any time," He replied, giving her a gentle nudge with his elbow.

"Kids! Dinner's ready! Go wash up!" Jaz's mother called out as the smell of the fresh food, presumably some form of aromatic chicken with noodles, reached them. It was a sweet smell, great even. Warm, homey. John was well aware of the ingredients, both because he'd eaten it before and because Jaz, who had dabbled in helping her mom cook, told him about it.

Admittedly, John was yet to try cooking it himself.

"We're on our way, mom!" Jaz shot back, then sighed, stretched and stood up. She turned to face him and said, "C'mon. Let's not keep her waiting, yeah?" while patting her clothing down a little, all while yet more stuff played on the TV. The movie's plot was currently getting good, but John didn't wanna be a rude guest.

"Alright," He nodded, walking to join Jaz and her mom for dinner.

Washington DC

The Pentagon

Issues pertaining to national security aside, the Pentagon, the Nerve Center of the US Military, built during World War 2 in a massive rush, was currently a hive of activity due to several matters, not least of which were the missiles in Hawaii. However, for one Haoyu Lee, Mitsubishi's divestment of their current military subsidiaries and the rumors Japan was about to leave the legation ports outside of Hawaii were his main object. Namely, transcribing intercepted civilian communiques about all this…

In his cubicle, aside from stacks of paperwork spread out around him, his briefcase, his typewriter and so on, the man had a few pictures of his family. He sighed deeply, staring longingly at his wife and daughter to his right as he typed away. They'd kept him at the workstation for a few hours extra because of some major new thing happening today.

And going by the fact his boss was now walking over toward him, he could tell this was gonna be interesting. The moment the pale-skinned Missourian man clad in an Air Force uniform that bore the rank of Staff Sergeant sewn onto his left arm walked inside, the Chinese American turned to face him. The Staff Sergeant told him, "Haoyu, I don't want you to panic, man, but we've got a situation… We need a transcription writer and you're the only one I have on short notice."

"What?" Haoyu blinked, "What the hell could be so important that you need a transcripter this quickly?"

"Impromptu meeting between the Chiefs of Staff, President and even fucking OFN leaders," The man replied in a whisper, causing the Chinese-American man to stagger. He continued, "The PM of the Dominion landed at Andrews AFB. The Australian, NZ and other ministers ain't far behind. Look, we just need you to transcribe the oncoming convo so the President's staff can put it-"

"Blake, no, you can't just fucking drop this on me like this, man!" Lee protested, though he kept his voice down, "What the hell, don't the Presidential Staff or the Chiefs of Staff have transcripters on-station for just this kind of shit?!" before he received a Nod… And a contract. A Non-Disclosure Agreement with the DoD's stamp on it. CIA's, too.

"Normally? Yes, but this is so off-the-books…" The Staff Sergeant paused, sighed, then added, "Hao, I trust you, man. The President and his staff know you well. Hell, they know you well enough to know you hate the Japs and Nazis worse than even some of our most avid Post-War Vets. Ike himself would've pinned a medal on your chest for the shit you and your family did for us," then he added while crouching in front of him, "And they know you're good at transcribing," and pulling a paper off the table to show it and accentuate his point.

"I transcribe civvie radio and phone chatter, Blake," The man replied, aggravated, but still keeping his voice to a whisper, "Talks between companies for mergers that might affect Procurement, maybe the average joe of a Company being accused of espionage here and there, but I don't think I'm suited enough to transcribe for the PRESIDENT AND CHIEFS OF FUCKING STAFF!"

"Okay, okay…" Sighed the man, rubbing his eyes, "Look, just read the NDA and sign it or don't. If you don't, I'll find someone else, but the pay's great and… Shit, I could put in a good word for you to get a month-long extended leave," which seemed to cause the man to perk up. The Staff Sergeant realized he hit a nerve and pressed, "You could see your family again and stay with'em for a while… C'mon."

Haoyu cast a glance back at the picture frame with his wife and daughter, then quickly read the file. Part of the reason he was transcribing stuff was because he was both a quick reader and a careful listener. It took him all of ten seconds to read through the file, see the numbers, then roll his eyes and pinch the bow of his nose. He mumbled, "If the CIA tries harming me or my family after this, I swear…" and grabbed a pen.

He signed his name.

"Perfect! Thanks, Hao!" The man smiled as he was handed the file, then stated, "I'll get you a whole year off if I can. Paid leave," before he stood up, lifted the Chinese-American to his feet and patted him down to straighten his suit and shirt out, then stated, "Alright, looking good. C'mon, we're going to the NMCC."

Lee breathed in and out to steel his nerves, then showed the Staff Sergeant to lead the way. They walked out of the cubicle, past several others and through the main rooms of the Pentagon, where staff from every branch of the US Military and Civilian government worked in unison under the DoD, past the ornate walls, past the paintings of Historical Landmarks of the US and past the many Presidents.

It was a trip down with the elevator when they reached the NMCC, the National Military Command Center, and the most important meeting room in the Pentagon to date. The Chinese-American man was then led inside, to the sight of a multitude of foreign and local folks. At the head of the table laden with files, pens, food and water was President Nixon. Immediately to his left and right where the Chiefs of Staff.

And around the rest of the table, resided the representatives of the OFN's largest member nations:Prime Minsiter Lester B. Pearson of the Dominion of Canada, an elderly man with a white suit, slicked grey hair and a kind smile, Prime Minister Kim Beazley Senior of Australia and Keith Holyoake of New Zealand, plus reps of smaller nations.

"Holy shit," Lee mumbled, "I thought you said the NZ and Australian PMs are gonna be here later…?"

"Guess their schedules got bumped up a bit," The Staff Sergeant whispered back, then lead him to his seat.

LeMay noticed the men and said, "Thank you, Staff Sergeant. Glad to see we've got one of our seasoned Transcribers here," before he took out a cigar and looked around at the rest of the Chiefs of Staff and President. He continued, "At least, we'll all have our last words written out on god-damn paper if this goes wrong."

"Curt," Nixon replied in a mumble, then sighed. He scanned the room and said, "I see we're all here. Good," before he stood up. He continued, "Ladies and gentlemen, representatives of the Free World… I apologize for the sudden call you all received yesterday evening, or… Morning, depending on the location. I'm afraid an unforeseen event occurred at that exact hour."

Through the rumbles and mumbles of both his Chiefs of Staff and the representatives of the OFN's largest member states, Prime Minster Pearson stated, "It's quite alright, mister President. We're all aware of the issues facing the Hawaii Crisis right now, but-"

"I'm afraid this is not about Hawaii," Nixon interrupted, causing the group to pause. He hummed, took a sip from a glass of water by his side, then told them, "I guess it's best to let the cat out of the bag early, eh?" while looking at Curtis. LeMay offered a nod, before the President said, "The files sat in front of all of you," motioning to said 'Top Secret' files, "Pertain to our meeting. We're still waiting for one major guest, however…"

Nixon then looked at Haoyu and said, "I hope you're getting all this, son."

"Sir," The man replied. He'd been typing the entire start of the conversation out and was now watching for the reactions of the OFN representatives, all of whom opened the files and began to read them. A mixture of disbelief and shock seemed to be pretty common among all of them, including the rest of the Chiefs of Staff that weren't LeMay.

"This is-" The Australian PM was about to protest.

LeMay interrupted him, "We know, sir," as he puffed from his cigar. He told them, "We thought it was impossible, too, until one of my boys reported their bird randomly landing in the middle of one of our most secret Air Force Bases," He added, "This is not a plot, nor a joke, nor some fun plot for a new science-fiction movie. We've had our First Contact."

Haoyu blanked as the room erupted into nondescript arguments of surprise. He caught a glimpse of a black-and-white photograph showing the landed aircraft. It was incredible, even if a bit blurry. Nixon called out, "Alright! Alright, everyone! Enough!" before slamming his hand into the table. He continued, "Every single piece of information in that file is true. And these same people have already offered to help us with our world problems."

When they started getting riled up again, Richard raised his hands to show them to quiet down, then added, "I know. It seems as if God just gifted us the answer to everything… But I would very much like to hear from these people myself. It's why, within the next few minutes, the leader of that space ship is gonna walk through that door and start talking to us."

The group seemed to settle, all eyes now locked onto the door. Footsteps thundered behind it… Then, it cracked open. First to wade through the door was an elderly man, his face recently clean-shaven and his dress whites sparkling clean. He walked in, hands behind his back, and under the escort of the most terrifying trio of soldiers anyone had seen to date, all of them clad in plate armor, like some sort of Knights.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Captain James Cutter of the Spirit of Fire greeted the room with a nod. He saluted them all and said, "Apologies for the tardiness, but… It turns out fitting three one thousand pound armor-clad soldiers into a C130 without exceeding the weight limit was a bit tedious," before cracking a smile.

"Captain Cutter," Nixon said, standing to his feet and walking over to the man. He extended his hand and said, "On behalf of the Free World, thank you for agreeing to come to this meeting with us," only to feel the Captain's strong grip as the man took and shook his hand. Nixon then motioned to a seat right next to him and his Chiefs of Staff, which Cutter graciously took.

His guards behind him as he sat down, the Captain breathed a sigh, then said, "I think we ought to start with the beginning, then."

"You all go first."