Partially finished prologue for The Living & The Dead



It is the 9th of November, 2008. At precisely 9:11 in the morning, a nuclear explosion levels New York City. The small nuclear device detonated near ground zero wipes Manhattan off the earth completely. 15 minutes later, the 43rd President of the United States - George Walker Bush - Declares a national emergency. At noon, the 2008 elections are cancelled. Bush later goes on national TV that night promising a renewed effort on the war on terror and drastically increased Surveillance on American Soil. A new patriot act bill is hastily drafted, voted on by the house & senate, and is signed into law in 4 days time. No criticism towards the Bush Administration ever seeps into the media for allowing the 2nd 9-11 to happen, whether by incompetence or disregard. Two weeks later, massive rallies in Los Angeles, DC, Miami & Chicago are violently broken up by riot police & national guardsmen, as well as Blackwater operatives. On the 2nd of December, Martial Law is declared as the US invades Iran from it's Iraqi and Afghan borders. Internet access is blocked throughout the continental United states on the 3rd as the news media begans running propaganda from the CIA & NSA. On the 4th, the Draft is reinstated.

On the 1st of January, 2009: following a collapse of the economy and overwhelming international criticism, George Walker Bush is assassinated by a Secret Service Agent on Air Force One. What followed in the coming monthes was social upheaval without parallel.

California Secedes from the United States of America on the 10th. The California National Guard is recalled from the frontlines and finds itself Crossing into Nevada on the 3rd of Febuary following scattered reports of of harassment along it's border. Thus began a chain reaction of secessions and invasions of other states, rampant rioting, guerilla attacks, and the collapse of local governments besieged by rogue factions. News reports around the world show a collapsed America in absolute anarchy and chaos. Images of battle torn american cities litter the periodicals. Ghastly reports of rampant civil and human rights abuses tell what little the pictures leave to imagination.

By August of that year, over 50 million Americans had fled the country. Most ending up in Canada, with 10 million crossing the Mexico border before Felipe Calderon closes it's border with California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. On September 7th, the remnants of the Federal Government, holed up in a now fortified DC, leaves the UN and declares all debt owed to China, Israel, and all other countries null & void. Thus escalating the worldwide recession into depression. In the resulting mayhem, war spreads across the globe like wildfire, and civilization enters a horrifying and uncertain dark age.

Years have passed. Mexico is at war with Guatemala, and also it's own criminal elements. American refugees, with no opportunity, no support from the government or society; most commonly become the grunts of the drug cartels and guerilla groups. Their shock troops. Their human shields. In a bid of survival, the unwelcomed american becomes an even greater periah than he was when he first ran south. This is where we begin: In an impoverished mexico city suburb that has just been witness to another gun battle between Zeta gunmen and the Mexican Army. The figure of a tired and worn out fox lays on the sidewalk, back leaning into the wall. He is red and of European origin, marking him as american, with designer shoes and clothing marking him further as as mexican mafioso. A messenger bag to his side: Two thirds of the way empty of it's content of assault rifle magazines. An FX-05 lays in his lap, taken from a mexican soldier's body from the gun battle he just fled from. His left hand limply slides off the thing's handguard and grabs for the third bottle of corn beer from the six pack. His eyes are dead. Soul-less. What little he had left of himself when his parents shoved him on that last train south is lost, now.