In a dark, ominous room, the man feels tight and confused. His hands cannot move, and his eyes struggle to catch any light.
"Ughhhh..."
"Oh, you're awake."
As he wakes from his slumber, he tries to move his body slightly, gradually regaining consciousness. A strange voice, sounding like a middle-aged man, breaks the silence.
"What? What's going on? Where am I?"
Once he is fully awake, an Asian man with a beard stands before him, wearing a vertically striped white shirt. Despite his Asian features, he resembles an Arabian man more than a Chinese one.
"I don't need to tell you anything because, even if you knew, you could do nothing about it. But see for yourself, Mister President. You're in one of the most notorious places in New York."
"What?! Why am I here?! My secretary! My driver! Where are they—" The President abruptly stops, memories flooding back to him.
"They're dead, right?"
"We checked the car, nothing but two burnt and mangled bodies."
"You MURDERER!!! YOU BASTARDS!! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!!!" The President tries to attack the man with his hands, but the handcuffs binding him to the chair render him powerless against the man who only smirks in response.
"Whoa, hey, why am I the guilty one here? Look, I get that you're angry, but that's not very presidential language. Calm down, I'll explain everything, so don't worry."
The man glances around the room, searching for a seat. He grabs a chair similar to the one the President is restrained in, pulls it over, and sits backward on it, smiling sweetly as he faces the President.
"So, as you can see, we've taken you, and the entire city of New York, hostage." The President's jaw drops, his eyes widening at this first sentence.
"No way, that's impossible! How could terrorists get into the United States? We've strengthened security to the max since 2001!"
"Let's just say we had some help from the inside."
"Inside? You mean spies? That's absurd! What kind of spy has high enough authority to stage an attack on this scale?!"
"You don't need to know, Mister President. In fact, you might not even make it out of here to find out."
The President has many questions, but he realizes that speaking too freely could put him in even more danger. He decides to focus on the most critical ones.
"Who sent you here? Who are you taking orders from?"
"No one. We all volunteered to be here."
"What? Who on earth would volunteer for this? I'm not kidding, who's backing you?"
The man steps out of his chair and walks over to the window, drawing back the curtains slightly to glance outside. The President notices something else, a sharp, gray ax lying on the table, its blade gleaming as sunlight hits it, catching his eyes. Fear grips him as the man stands silently beside the ax, saying nothing.
"Like I said, no one. We planned this operation ourselves, gathered the weapons, and didn't ask anyone's permission."
"Why are you doing this? What did those innocent people do to deserve any of this?"
The man turns to face the President, his expression now deadly serious and filled with anger.
"Innocent, huh?"
"???"
"Let me ask you a question, Mister President: What did the people of Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan do to deserve the death, destruction, and division the U.S. brought upon them? Answer me that."
"We—we did it to stop Soviet expansion, to protect global democracy from Communists and Terrorists! To maintain peace and security!"
"By sending in troops to kill and interrogate their people? By bombing their schools and hospitals? By forcing them to betray their friends and homeland? By tearing their countries apart? By making a man lose his son and his WIFE?!"
With the ax in one hand, the man grabs the President's collar, yelling in his face. But he quickly realizes he's losing control and takes a step back. Though the President can't fully grasp his words, he can see the agony and suffering behind the man's fierce expression. The man continues, his voice steady but charged:
"If someone could give those people a chance to return everything America did to them, I bet they wouldn't hesitate to say yes."
"That's why we're all volunteers, volunteers to teach the United States a lesson. We'll bring the terror of war right to your homeland. All the death, suffering, and destruction you unleashed upon us, your people will know it, and you'll finally understand what war truly is!"
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"You—you won't get away with this! Even if I'm not in charge, the U.S. and its people will hunt you and your group down to the last man!"
"We'll see. Do you really think we'd come here without preparation?"
"What?"
"You'll see. This is only the beginning. Oh, and if you somehow get out of here alive, take a look at Europe in two months. Then you'll understand what I mean. For now, let me show you the greatest weapon we brought for this operation."
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Times Square - 10:40 AM
Less than an hour after the President was abducted, the terrorists flooded the city, attacking anyone who dared to stand in their way. The NYPD gathered in Times Square, preparing to engage them in combat in an effort to push them back. However, they quickly realize they are outmatched by the terrorists' firepower. The attackers wield AKs, RPGs, and military vehicles, while the police are equipped only with small firearms and patrol cars that can't withstand gunfire.
"They're hitting us hard! They're pushing us back!" a police officer shouts to his colleagues as they take cover under a police car, trying to shield themselves from the hail of bullets. Rounds litter the ground, bodies are scattered everywhere, and chaos reigns.
"When will our reinforcements arrive? Where is the military?!"
"I bet they have no idea what's going on!" He stands up and fires a few rounds from his revolver at the terrorists before quickly ducking back into cover. His shots seem ineffective; the terrorists remain unharmed, using machine guns to suppress him.
"This is going to take forever!"
"RPG!!!"
SHOOSHH… BOOM!
The terrorists launch an RPG, the rocket streaking toward a police car, blowing it up and shoving it aside, breaching the police line of defense.
"Shit! If reinforcements don't arrive now, we're all dead!"
The explosion claims the life of one officer, but the others have no time to mourn. They continue firing desperately at the attackers.
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White House - 10:45 AM
When the Vice President hears the news, he jumps out of bed and starts jogging to the Situation Room, changing into a suit as he goes. He takes a seat in the middle of the room, facing his generals, the Secretary of Defense, and other officials. They exchange anxious glances but hesitate to speak.
"What is our current situation?" He asks an advisor standing in the corner with a notepad.
"The police have been dispatched to confront the attackers, but they seem to be getting pushed back due to a lack of firepower."
"Do we have any information about the terrorists? Their origin or their commander?"
"They strike suddenly and quickly, making it difficult for our agents to gather any intelligence. All we know is that they wear full-body suits to conceal their identities and don't appear to speak English."
"Okay, I want every available aircraft in the sky—now! Tell them to send in fighters and some A-10s."
"Fighters? What if they have anti-air missiles? Reports indicate that the helicopters we sent to rescue the President were all shot down!" A man in a dark green uniform stands up to object.
"The reports also mentioned that those helicopters were flying low before they were hit, right?" The Vice President's question prompts the man in the green uniform to sit back down and listen.
"Yes?"
"RPGs can also target any helicopter flying low within their range, and we've confirmed that the terrorists are using RPGs."
"But..."
"Okay, if you're still concerned, we'll send in F-35s, all right?"
The man silently nods in agreement.
"Good. Now, how is our force handling things?"
"Orders have already been given to the Air Force to get fighters and support aircraft in the air, and the Army is dispatching multiple units toward the city."
"You guys work fast, huh?"
"Thank you, Sir."
"Okay, so when was the last time we saw our President?"
"About that..."
The advisor turns on the TV mounted on the wall, displaying CCTV footage of a New York crossroads in color, though the images are blurry and pixelated.
"At 9:30 AM Eastern Time, President Mikeal Norman was attacked by a sniper that we have been unable to locate." The Vice President nods, absorbing the information.
"Next, a police convoy was organized to escort the President, but somehow, the convoy was completely obliterated, and there were no survivors."
"Get me a macchiato." the Vice President tells his secretary.
"Get to the point!"
"Okay, so… Next, the chopper we sent arrived at the meeting location in Sheep Meadow, Central Park, at 9:47 AM, which is shown on the screen. The President's limo arrived at the same time."
The advisor continues narrating the events captured in the video, detailing how the limousine was struck by a truck, how the terrorists destroyed an armed military helicopter, and how the President was brutally injured and taken captive. The footage ends with the vehicle carrying the President disappearing from view, leaving the limo that was supposed to ensure his safety engulfed in flames. A heavy silence falls over the room as everyone processes what they've just witnessed.
"That was the last time we saw the President. We were unable to trace the truck because it immediately swapped places with other identical trucks right after it left the street. There are hundreds of them around the city; it seems like they want to play hide and seek with us."
"These guys can't just show up and attack out of nowhere. There has to be a spy among us, and who's better at spying on us than those damn Soviets? I believe they're backing these terrorists to provide enough manpower and armament for this attack. Those Communists want to cripple our nation! I've told you we can't trust them!"
The Vice President, a veteran anti-Communist, consistently directs his remarks and actions against the Soviet Union, often wearing on people's patience. He lost the presidential race after declaring that, if elected, he would completely annihilate the Soviets. However, his claims can't be dismissed entirely in this context; it's a possibility that can't be ignored. As they continue discussing the situation, a woman enters the room carrying a macchiato and…
"Sir! Sir! We've got a situation!" A man rushes into the room, inadvertently bumping into the woman and causing her to drop the hot macchiato on the floor and splatter it onto the Vice President's shoes.
"What the hell? Who are you?!" The Vice President demands, but the man doesn't respond. Instead, he grabs the TV remote and switches to a news channel, displaying a helicopter view of New York City.
"Hey, can't you listen? I asked who the hell you are!"
"Look!" The man insists.
"Not until you answer my question. This is an important meeting—" He halts suddenly, staring at the screen.
"What is that?"
A blue, transparent sphere suddenly appears in the sky above New York City, gradually descending from 10 kilometers (about 6 miles) above the ground. It slowly engulfs Manhattan, Brooklyn, and parts of New Jersey. Everyone in the room, and indeed, the entire city, turns their attention to the sphere. As it envelops Manhattan, the sky takes on a darker hue, yet it still feels like daylight, creating an atmosphere that seems straight out of science fiction.