President Frederick Sanderson stood in his presidential suite feeling somewhat pleased with himself. He wasn’t a man to be trifled with, and Caledorn had pushed him to his breaking point.

He had been livid when the shipments of oil had decreased in size. He had thought the Caledornian president was taking him for a fool. Like he wouldn’t notice he was being screwed over on a previously made negotiation? Absurd.

Frederick had tried to remain composed. He reached out to Zeke Palminer in an attempt to handle the situation with poise. But, that sneaky bastard had told him the oil wells were drying up and he needed oil to support his own country. Frederick didn’t buy it, he felt something amiss and took action.

He’d called upon an outright invasion.

His closest colleagues and administration knew it was for the oil but his soldiers were told a different story. They were told Caledorn was intending on invading Remdia and this was a preemptive act to stop them. Frederick didn’t mind lying to his men, he was doing what was best for them anyways. They needed oil in Remdia, the country would start seeing the impacts of collapse if they couldn’t supply their demand. Frederick was willing to do anything to support his country. Anything.

There Frederick sat, a smug smile upon his face because of the progress report he’d just received. The Caledornian president had fled, they were in control of the western side of the country and well on their way to overthrow both northern and southern quarters of the country as well.

Frederick was pleased, he couldn’t have expected this to go any smoother. He had anticipated to meet more resistance, but it turned out the Caledornia president was quite spineless. He had called countless times to discuss treaties. Too little, too late, Frederick thought as he denied each attempt.

He twirled a pen between his fingers, letting the round plastic flip through his joints with ease. He looked out the window of his room, watching the citizens of his country walk about and continue on with their lives. It was as if his country wasn’t aware of the war, that’s how safe they felt.

A sharp knock on the door caused him to catch the pen between his thumb and forefinger. He spun his chair towards the door and welcomed his guest.

“Enter.”

A tall slender woman, a trusted advisor, entered with an exasperated look on her face. “You’re needed in the boardroom, sir.”

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“Is everything okay?” he asked with intrigue.

“Quite frankly, I’m not equipped to explain what has transpired. Please, come, quickly.”

Frederick wasn’t used to being commanded in this way. He assumed Caledorn had finally started fighting back, not that it would be the end of the world, but it would cause more deaths of his own citizens.

With his previous good mood gone, he stood up, pulled the cuffs of his suit down and followed his advisor to the boardroom.

Within the room, there was absolute mania unfolding. People were shouting and running wildly around the room. Frederick suddenly felt that there was a much bigger problem at play.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice deep and gravely.

Everyone stopped speaking in an instant.

“Sir, we’ve just received word. There’s been activity around the station that houses Caledornia’s nuclear missiles!”

“Where are they headed?” Frederick jumped into action. He had hoped the Caledornian president would remain scared through the invasion. He hadn’t expected this level of escalation. For the first time since he conjured the idea to invade, he was terrified of the outcome.

“We’re not sure yet sir, we are attempting to track them now.”

“Are there troops nearby to stop them from within?” he asked, starting to sweat profusely.

“No, we have no one within miles. They’ll never get there in time!”

“Sir!” A new voice called, “We’ve found them. Oh… Fuck.”

“What is it?” Frederick roared.

“They are all headed here. Directly to the capital!”

“Intercept them! Shoot them down! Now!” He stepped to the computer screen, almost as if he was double checking the observation made. He saw ten missiles on the computer, their trajectory all headed for the city he was in.

“We’ll never get them all, sir!” Another person yelled out.

“Fuck!” he screamed. “Hit as many as we can. Fire back. Send everything we’ve got. Hit all their major cities.”

The people in the room began running around following the orders of their president.

Frederick watched the screen intensely, knowing this was almost assuredly the end of his life as well as his entire administration. But, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

His palms were slick with fear as he watched the dots move across the screen.

“We’ve shot down three!” someone cried. Frederick wasn’t sure if it was a panicked cry or a celebratory one. To be honest, he didn’t care.

“Sir, we’ve sent word to our teams in the country to continue their efforts. We’ve launched five missiles at their largest cities and we’re still attempting to shoot down the remaining seven missiles headed this way.”

“Very well,” his tone gave away the defeat he felt. He knew this was the end. There was no more time.

He straightened his back and approached the window. He looked to the skies, awaiting the arrival of the missiles.

After a few seconds, he saw the first one. Then three. Then five. Finally, seven.

He took a deep breath watching them near.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

President Frederick Sanderson’s final words would be ones of regret as the missiles descended on the city he had grown up in.