Chapter 1: The underestimation.

"I TOLD YOU TO LAUNCH A L L OF THEM!" General Crut hammered his fists on the ceramic table.

"That would've been overkill, we can now counter-" Admiral Hurker favored safe bets, wearing out the opponent cost-effectively.

"Boys, boys." Mr. President held his left hand up, "So their missiles took out our own. We have more."

He stood up and turned to face the largest monitor; it showed countless corpses strewn among rubble. Drones gunned down whoever ran.

"I'm glad I have both of you to even each other out." Crut always demanded quick action. Hurker favored safe bets, wearing out the opponent cost-effectively. The general came from a backwoods redneck family that used a paddle, but the admiral grew up classier, with a rich family that favored a cane. Both descended from military lineage. Both were men of faith. Both made no secret they wanted to gut the other.

Meanwhile, across the ocean...

"I can't believe we have to thank those brutes for this." A Prime Minister spoke to her advisers.

"They did it for self-interest." A political strategist stated the obvious, "Just assure the public we need to work with them and that we're willing to."

"They're going to march on us as soon as they can." Admiral Yehch contemplated the fleet they were sending. "Damn the Americans, they got themselves into this mess."

"We've had an arrangement with their intelligence services." The Prime Minister spoke.

"And they cannot be trusted, spying on YOU!"

She was about to respond but her corded phone rang. "Send them in." Moments later, 2 Russian men walked in. They stood like statues, saying nothing.

"Well!" Yehch glared. One Russian walked to the Prime Minister and handed her photos.

Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth. "You monsters..." A girl, naked and crying, had a bloody back and a plank of wood holding her wrists and neck in midair, her feet flung outward from a fire beneath her. "Why show me this?"

"We want you to see what you friends do." The man informed her and took back the photos. "Yes, that is the resistance's doing." Resistance? The minister didn't know there already was one, the raining missiles were such a shock. "A girl who, growing up as she did, might've had every reason to shoot little black boys." The Prime Minister already felt sick to her stomach and now had trouble not puking.

"So," The minister paused, "you've shot down their satellites. You had missiles aimed at them and men ready to fire. How did you get these photos? How is there a revolutionary backlash already? Most Americans don't already know what is going on."

"Oh, we've had Americans at every angle inviting us over for their parties. A hillbilly who hates us will still tell us everything for the price of a truck. Or a little girl to call him 'daddy.'"

"Get out." Yehch didn't give a damn any more about the Prime Minister's authority.

"The Americans will starve your fleets. They will encircle you and shoot down any resupply. You cannot win this."

"So why are you here?" Yehch wanted an end. He needed to know how.

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As quickly as police and national guard forces were deployed to where they were needed most, agents who had forewarning opened caches of weapons; even young boys and girls were handed rifles and grenades, if they could use them, and were instructed what positions to fire from and when to retreat. Most did not hold ground well but more than expected made effective combatants. They were not effective subordinates, however.

Finding a surviving teacher who gave him detention for skipping class, Ryan and his crew held the 23 year old down and stripped her. The took hammers to her shins and forearms and drilled holes in her knees. She thrashed about and the hellions nearly jizzed themselves clutching the squirming nude woman to the gravel parking lot.

Down just a few blocks, a small goth girl, Sceia, was the only survivor of the squad trusted to one revolutionary agent. Mostly made of adults, they were sent into the fray many times over. Police captains quickly realized they were a key threat and dispatched SWAT teams to circle and starve them. They didn't know there was a double agent who gave warnings, but when they did, he was executed and his 13- and 17- year old daughters were stripped naked made to march through a burning gauntlet of poison ivy and frightened hornets. Sceia saw the scene and videos their deaths with her phone, posting it to social media and titled it "What the police do when they can." She saw the double agent's wife being held upside down from a roof to witness her daughter's painful demise, and once they had been stung and burned to death, she was dropped. Her skull cracked in 3 pieces and her neck snapped. Contemplating anyone peoples' misery, Sceia thought to headshot them but realized it would give her position away. Spotting the hellions through her scope, she decided to do just that. She relocated, fired and ran, deceiving both her former classmates who bullied her and the police who did the same, even groping her on one occasion, into confronting each other. The police slaughtered the youngsters with one casualty of their own, and Sceia sniped the pig who grabbed her butt years ago when she was 11. It was worth the risk. A rocket exploded close to her general position but wasn't sufficiently aimed, perhaps the recoil was too much. A 2nd shot would be more accurate so she ran and jumped from a window on the other side, landing on dumpster from which she saw rivers of corpses. She was right, the room she just fled from let out a blast of concussive force and thermal energy. She noticed sentries in the streets on both sides of the alley but they were preoccupied with the commotion down the street, contemplating if they should assist or run the other way. She took her chance and sprinted to a car. A bleeding man lay inside, breathing heavy and coldly. He caught her eyes and after what felt like forever, silently handed her his wallet through the shattered window and lay silently, then stopped breathing. Gunfire drummed in the distance and she took another chance, sprinting to the other alley.

Across the nation, similar scenes played out. A drone pilot spotted her and informed a commander, who relayed the information to field command. She was swift enough and fled to tunnels that were no man's land, being too risky for either side and already contested. She found charred corpses and a little girl crying with her arm shot off.