Destruction.
It was just a normal day, everyone bustling to work one moment. The next, destruction. It all happened too quickly for the mind to comprehend. Giant, unmarked planes flew over the entire D.C., casting menacing shadows over unsuspecting citizens. Large objects fell from the sky, exploding on impact and destroying everything in their wake. Nobody knew what threatened them, and none of them wanted to stick around to find out.
People ran, though there was no hope. The adults, elderly, and children searched for shelter as the massive planes loomed above them, raining down death without remorse. But nothing could stop the judgement. They hid in subways, houses, their human instinct dictating survival.
The casualties were great. Less than twenty percent of the population lived to see the next day. The District of Columbia was in ruins and leveled into nothing but a pile of rubble. The sky was stricken an ashen gray as smoke billowed from the burning buildings—or what remained of them.
Wails filled the air as families mourned their murdered relatives. There wasn't a dry eye or a smile that day. The people cried for vengeance for their lost loved ones. The people demanded it, and Congress heard and answered. Vengeance would be delivered. No matter the cost, vengeance would come.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
