The Shit Hits the Fan...

9:18 PM CST (3:18 UTC)

This was the most pivotal point in Humanity's history. Two dozen, high-ranking Plutonian military officials were scrambling to stop a virus intended to destroy everything King Gene Empire used to know and love, at home in America and around the world.

Alas, it was of no use; the sinister bastard represented by the tiny red dot on a Plutonian map was resourceful and persistent. Somehow he or she knew they were being tracked. They literally spammed the virus from their computer by the thousands per millisecond. And the virus used extremely specialized code as well, using countless measures to circumvent as many security measures as possible.

Gene, as a last resort, ordered the cyber staff to knock out power in that location ASAP. But it was too late...

"Launches detected! Launches detected!" Screamed another Belle Hadean woman, just as she transferred her screens to some of the other wall screens. It was a basic map outline of the Earth, with nuclear tracks super-imposed.

Knowing the Fate of the Earth was now obvious, the Plutonian Psychic Defense forces immediately teleported to the jet graveyard in the American Southwest, scavenging as many planes as possible. In the Plutonian Southeast, by Plutonii river, airplanes piled up by the dozen, to be used either for scrap or magical restoration. Many non-corporeals also sought abandond vehicles of other types, such as tanks, cars, naval vessels, and so forth.

Over the next half hour and more, everyone in the Plutonian Empire watched in horror as countless weapons reached their destination, with the ones shot down local defense forces only being replaced by more incoming, thanks to the high AI level of the virus.

Halfway through, Gene kept glancing at the spot in North America where he knew Denver was, and repeatedly got goosebumps each time...