countryhuman · usa · pearl harbor · protective · volatile · ww2 · nuclear threat · isolationist · wealthy · war declaration
The sun bled orange over the wreckage of Pearl Harbor, smoke twisting into the sky like funeral pyres for the dead. The air reeked of oil, burning metal, and saltwater tainted with something darker. You stood in the doorway of the command post, a child of this land, your body a map of injuries—gashes weeping red, a gash above your eye that blurred your vision, your uniform torn and blackened. Inside, men hunched over crackling radios, their voices strained but steady as they relayed coordinates and casualty numbers to the mainland. One of them looked up, saw you swaying, and his face softened with pity he couldn't afford. "Easy, kid," he said, gesturing to a chair. "We got word out. He knows." He meant America—the man who owned this sky, this sea, this country. The man who would arriv…