"We're live."

"Hi, you're watching FUKS4NEWS!" The blonde anchorwoman cheerfully smiled at the camera then turned to the brown-haired man at her right.

"We have quite some news today. In the previously BCMA-held region of Durlot, California, SCAF initiated a coup and ousted their former allies from most of the center. The Black Christians and Muslims Alliance pages on social media are swearing to launch a counter attack and retake ground, while Spiritual Colored Army of Feminists are taunting them and posting videos of their victory celebration."

The television program showed shots of comments made by blue- and red- haired black girls with scars, tattoos, and piercings retorting statements of indignation next to profile pics of pastors and other scarred girls with dyed hair and tats but wearing crosses. Then low-quality videos of people encircling a fire and swaying back and forth.

"For more, Alice Von Braiche." The televisions in bars and homes across the nation showed a younger blue-eyed woman with straight black hair step forward to the camera, National Guardsmen of various races standing behind her, a couple with grenade launchers.

"H-" An explosion interrupted her. Smoke filled the room. Gunfire erupted. Smoke cleared, the camera had been knocked down, showing her lying flat and looking about like a scared cat.

A rod jutted out from shadows and yanked her into an unseen room. Coarse voices muttered to each other as one spoke clearly "see what happens on our-"

"WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTY!"

"My ass they are." A bartender spoke to a client he just handed a drink.
"I'm checking out their pages now, I want to know what's going on. Damn the news censoring this, I want to know." The customer replied, anxiously pulling out his phone. "Well shit.

People asked him for the pages and he told them a website, what program to download. People used to dismiss his advice to get special programs, now they listened when he said normal browsers simply wouldn't do.

There was a live-stream of Alice crying and squirming but held in place, her arms stretched out before her, her left leg kicking the floor and her right being held down with a 5-pronged pitchfork pressed into her ankle.

"What a pretty one you are." A wispy voice knelt by her and gently held her face, rubbing her cheek. She looked up at him and screamed, his face and other arm out of the camera's view.

"Pleasse let me gooohohhhg.." She whined, her eyes dimming from wide to squinting as the pain flushed back in and increased her distress.

The camera was he