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Allen Street, New York City.

7.21 PM.

Hauling the duffel bag up a set of creaking stairs, Casper let out a soft sigh as the scent of newly cooked stew caressed his senses. Evening time, the day had came and passed quite uneventfully but landed in a comfortable zone of house and hearth. Slipping out of his canvas shoes, Casper's attention perked at the sudden voice greeting his arrival, though like every day, it was an expected addition to the scene. "How did your match go, sweetie?" Aunt Claire spoke, her soothing and motherly voice echoing through the small home Casper had come to know throughout the years.

"Went well." The boy returned, a soft yawn escaping his lips as he finally passed the threshold of the living quarters and shut the door behind him. Rather old fashioned indeed, their home had been built into the bookstore and labored to save them some money in the long run. Living and working in the same location had its perks. As for the work itself, it would be unfair to claim that business had been suffering but one couldn't praise it for being a winning concept, not anymore. Most customers were of the older kind, people not quite used to the internet, or interested in what the vast web had to offer. The confines of a book was safer, more familiar. It was specialized and you never had to worry about going off track.

"Dinner's almost done." Aunt Claire continued, reaching her hand towards Casper to ruffle the boy's thick hair as he approached. Correcting the action with a soft frown, he attempted to save what was left of his hairstyle but conceded to shaking his head enough to make the strands fall naturally as they would, which would proceed to have them covering his eyes. "Honey, don't you think it's time for a haircut?"

"No." Casper's statement was final. Despite the nuisance longer hair came with, he was dead set on laboring through it. Gripping the duffel bag tighter, Casper continued through the kitchen, into the living room and then past the small hall connecting the bathroom to his room, finding home within the latter. Dropping the bag to the floor, Casper breathed out a long, heavy sigh of relief and peeled off the sweater he had been wearing since morning. As if a reflexive action, a routine, his left hand reached to turn the computer on only moments before he dropped down to the bed situated next to the stationary device. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Casper nearly drifted off as fatigue claimed him like an iron fist, though was pulled back to attention at the sound of a vibrating phone buzzing through his pocket.

Rubbing his eyes, the boy brought his hand to the pocket of his cargo pants and produced the iPhone, an older version, and glossed over the text.

"Dude, great job today! We'll so win finals!" - Sara.

Sent at 7.30 PM, Casper's acquaintance was the sort who found it not only exhilarating but also a critical part of the game to constantly rave on about the most recent match their group had been part of. Airsofting, it was a fun sport, one of much controversy and reputation but at the end of the day, it was both fun and a learning experience. If one was to sell off the sport as a decent time spender, one would inform that it encouraged and developed team play. It would proceed to enhance your reflexes and not least, your accuracy. Reaction time is something highly valued within the airsoft community and is another skill people would come to know if they ever joined the sport. Understandably, parents didn't always find it a palatable substitute to the more mainstream activities like that of soccer or baseball, given the firearms involved, hence the controversy. Aunt Claire had not been too thrilled at first, either. Though when she learned that Casper was doing well within the activity, she would come to change her mind.

Everyone had their position, their role. Like in any team based video game, a group was comprised of assault units and support units. Casper found himself most at home in the latter, preferring a long distance approach to the enemy team behind the safety of a scope.

"Thanks, yeah." Casper typed into the phone, his slender fingers dancing across the screen to managed the words before sending it back to the initial point of contact. With another yawn, Casper dropped the phone onto his bed and slipped out of the remainder of his clothes for a quick shower. As if on queue, Aunt Claire called on him for dinner soon after and a warm meal hit the spot like a bull's eye.

"Casper, could you try to call Kyle?" Aunt Claire spoke, fiddling with her phone as they ate. "I can't seem to reach him."

"He's probably just busy." Casper offered somewhat disinterested, his focus mainly on filling his empty stomach.

"He told me he'd call after reaching Seattle. It's long overdue." Kyle was a friend of the family, so to speak. Aunt Claire and him had been getting to know each other over the past few months and safe was it to say that the two were hitting it off.

"Stop worrying." The boy finished, bringing his bowl to the sink before turning the water on. "He's in Seattle, not a war zone."

"Mm, I guess I just jump to the worst possible outcomes. Mother hen and all that." Claire chuckled, joining Casper by the sink to wash the dishes.

As the chores came to an end, Casper reentered his room and noticed how another text had been sent to him. Almost reluctantly, not wanting to hear more about today's match, he reached for the phone and gazed upon the screen. The viral video he was met with was not about the match. Not at all. With wide eyes, Casper immediately came to a conclusion about an earlier statement. He was wrong.

James had come to america to celebrate the Christmas holiday with his newfound friend Ed, the flight was harsh due to a sudden storm before landing at the airport in Seattle, he'd flown from New Zealand through Australia, Japan and over the North Pacific but he saw no signs of a storm, nor had the weather forecast said anything about it, truely extraordinary. Ed met James at the Seattle airport, worried with the coming of the storm that there would be an accident.
"Hah, poor suckers won't get their flight." Ed had said when all the other flights had cancelled, in the car to his friends' apartment James received many texts and calls from his mother concerning the storm and not going to America again, the two young men laughed when his mother had finally ended the call and decided to talk about his joining the military and how it was as a whole. the car pulled to a stop in a parking block near a shabby apartment building which so happened to be the building he'd be staying in for the rest of the summer/winter holiday. After a long climb up the apartment stairs, due to the elevator being out of order, they arrived at a door labeled room 408, inside the room was quite clean with only the sudden book every so often, all James' worries were gone.
The week went by quietly, not much had happened besides going to a few house parties not anywhere near where he stayed, it was at one of these parties that the "event" happened, a strange purple light appeared excreting red humanoid monsters resembeling demons, people screamed and the religious prayed believing that their god would save them from the apocalypse. James, well James fled with his friend Ed before the demons destroyed the building they'd just fled from, a moment later Ed had nearly crashed into one of these demons if it weren't for James pushing the wheel at the last moment, or was that Ed? Without them knowing the car crashed into the entrance of a subway, the exit was blocked and front window was open, unfortunately Ed had a piece of metal stuck in his chest, he was dying.
"Hey, HEY, It'll be alright bro, you're gonna be alright!", Ed placed a hand on James' shoulder.
"Just keep on keeping on..." as he said it it was as if all his worries disappeared, but then he died, the friend James had known for only a few months had died in his arms...

00:26 UTC | 19:26 EST | The Old Man's House, Columbus, Ohio, United States

Ohio. Yeah. It was a place that existed. Like many within, Hayley would be happy if it were wiped off the map. Well, many of the people that mattered, not those sports people and their thoughts about college football and how it would save the planet because they were warriors going to battlegrounds, not a bunch of kids going to play a game all about throwing, kicking, and catching a ball. Like that was going to help them somehow in a war. She wouldn't have been prepared for it either, but she was more the 'loot-the-corspes' type anyway. Not like they needed what they had, so she'd just use their stuff if it came to that.

Her room was cold, as normal. She was sure this guy probably appreciated her for not turning the heat on. The other tenants were other girls like her, but...not. They were just young. Most barely educated. Most...with less than desirable jobs. They also tended to not pay rent with money. Not like this guy cared; he'd been loaded since his great, great grandparents were kids. And if she had her way, she would be too when he died. He didn't have any family - something she didn't understand, since he was so nice and funny and told all the good stories - so his money had to go somewhere. Not that she was conning him out of it or anything. By all means, she was nice to him because he was nice to her. Not her fault he treated her like a daughter sometimes. She probably wasn't the only one. But for all she knew, he was picking up all these PYTs 'cause he wanted to get laid all he could before he died.

She couldn't blame him for that.

She flipped up in her bed. Her reflection in the mirror on the vanity across from the bed looked back at her. Looking to her right, so did the one reflected off the mirror on the wall next to her. She was sure if she looked back, the mirror in the corner opposite both these mirrors would be looking back at her, too, but it was in the dark corner. No one looked there. Not because it was the dark corner, but because she hadn't bothered to put anything there. The mirror was a nice decoration. She wasn't sure why he had three mirrors in this room. She didn't mind at all. The bed was comfortable, even if the slatted Ikea frame was cheap. The nightstand matched it. And that's all that was in here that wasn't in the small corner closet. The lack of anything interesting in the room kept all the distractions away.

Except for her incessantly buzzing phone. She'd been awake for what, 20 minutes? Tops? No need to send a million texts to the nocturnal girl, 'k, people? She didn't much care what they had to say, either. Regardless, all the buzzing made her phone very hard to unlock with her thumb, and basically killed the screen's input. "Mother$%(&$&s, let me unlock this &(#*! What the actual mother^@$&ing &%(* people?! If it's that important, send a little text. I'll get to you. No need to try to wake me up or whatever. I'm awake. %(^#."

When it finally unlocked, she looked at her texts. Contacts all over, not just one person. She found the person most important to her on the list. Some video and a quick message. Exactly what she wanted from people. It read, "Friend of a friend got this. Seattle. Looks fake as hell, but they say it's real." She watched the video that went along with it. Some portal opening, demon-dudes coming out. The CG skills were better than any other art video she'd been sent, so at least the friend of a friend of her friend had some skill.

Naturally, like any concerned citizen should, she texted back. "Whether it's fake or real, that bitch is lucky. Maybe they'll come here."

00:26 UTC, 18th of December, 2016. | Seattle, The Maxwell Hotel.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!"

They weren't the most eloquent words ever said, but they were definitely the most fitting. His phone buzzed idly to itself in his pocket as he just stared out of the window, watching. He saw them flying past. Them. The devils. They were killing people in the street, tearing off the tops of cars and crashing through windows in the opposing building. He saw glass topple down from the top floor all the way down to the pavement, seeing the light reflecting off of each little shard before it soundlessly hit the ground. That should've been his wakeup call. He saw a a mass of blacked wings and pointed bone way too late. It crashed through the window of his hotel room, and for a moment, everything slowed down with the adrenaline. He heard his own breath against the soundtrack of screeches, screams and the cacophany of car alarms that permeated Seattle. It was the perfect impetus to get him to sprint out of the room, and slam the door behind him as he, for once, decidedly took the stairs down. The sound of skin sliiiiiding against the handrailing, and the echoes of shoes slamming against the steps was all he focused on, skipping a couple of stairs at a time. He heard screaming throughout the building, and he only then realized just how much he was shaking, and how cut up his hands were from the shattered glass, slashed skin, and blood dripping freely onto the floor.

Another scream brought him back to Earth. It came from a floor, maybe two up. He doubled his pace down, chest heaving as if his heart was going to break through his chest. Second floor. The door to the rooms was propped open by a dead body. An actual dead body. It was that girl. Amber, the one who he was talking to at the hotel bar. She called him cute, and funny, and probably had a bit too much to drink. He felt ill. Blood covered the walls like an incompleted painting, and he couldn't help but think about the way she smiled at him. He threw up over the railing, and trundled his way down the rest of the steps, he didn't have it in him to run anymore. He heard sirens in the distance as he pushed past the foyeur and toward the front doors. He heard sirens and he figured it was safer to be seen by the authorities and defended than out in the back where he could get picked off. Logic works both ways, however, and a devil decided it would get easier pickings indoors than outside. Breaking through the revolving door, walking on two feet with a confident swagger, a devil pushed past, with Sam in its sights. Sam looked at the eyes of this thing that almost glowed red with hatred and anger and he just couldn't move. He held his arms up as if to shield himself, but the devil just picked him up, flashing those claws-

"SEATTLE POLICE DEPARTMENT, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!"

The rest was shortness of breath, tightly shut eyes and gunfire.

00:32 UTC, 18th of December, 2016. | Seattle, Near Downtown

Anastasia was walking out of the shelter when she saw people running and screaming down the streets. What in the world was going on now? She wondered to herself as she started to running with the crowd trying to ask people what was going on. No one at all would respond to her other then "JUST RUN!" or anything to that nature. She turned around to see if she could see what was chasing everyone. What she saw, scared her to her deep core of her body. "What the hell are they!" She screamed out as she saw the flying demons heading closer and closer. As she saw the demons she knew things were about to go to hell and a hand basket. She started running again trying to find a weapon she could use. She grabbed a lead pipe off the ground just in case those monsters got too close. She slowly started to feel more and more strange as she ran and it wasn't adrenaline. It was something more...powerful. She tried to shake off the feeling to try to find a safe place. She was too far from the shelter to go there. She hoped they were okay. She hoped no one would try to venture to her school. The kids wouldn't be able to survive alone against these monsters and she was to far away on foot to be able to make it there. She would have to try and find the police or even the military by now to seek safety.

Allen Street, New York City.

Tensing at the sight, Casper couldn't believe this to be real. It was common sense, believing that this footage was nothing more than a way to seek attention, wasn't it? Even so, it looked so real. Sitting through the length of the video he had been sent, Casper found himself dumbfounded by recent events. Padding closer to his computer, the boy dropped down in his office chair before logging into Skype. Immediately met by a slew of texts by Sara, he could barely read one before it was replaced by another. "Did you see it!? You saw it, right!? Came a message, the most recent addition to the now cluttered screen. Though Casper was attempting to research the scenario, he wasn't having much luck. Things were being taken down rapidly. Refreshing the page lead to a blank screen and several websites followed the same formula.

"Yeah." Casper returned, the boy one of few words. Someone was trying to cover this up, with that someone being the government with obvious intent. The more he looked into it, the more real it seemed. Why would they go through so much trouble deleting posts, shutting down websites and censoring footage if it was all fake? Of course, the attempt wasn't exactly one of the more successful ones. No established news sites were covering this, yet it was starting to appear everywhere else, right before being taken down. Casper wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he could put two and two together. Established news companies were not covering this, yet it was seeping into internet forums and various websites like a plague. People were commenting on it, calling it fake while others explained that they were trying to call their families in Seattle with no luck. Something this grand, something this widespread could not be a prank. This couldn't have been an elaborate joke or movie promotion. Though, believing it to be real, one had to believe in monsters, devils. It didn't make any sense whatsoever.

"Shit, this crap might actually be a thing, Cas." Sara continued, furiously typing into the chat window.

"Aunt's boyfriend isn't picking up, either." Casper stated, turning to look at his phone before attempting the feat himself, with no luck.

"Cas, this crap's everywhere! There is no way this can be a joke!" There it was again, belief that this had to be real. Could it be? If so, what the hell had to world come to? Or was the answer within the question?

Wrestling with the decision to tell Claire, or choosing not to worry her was constantly picking at Casper's mind but in the end, it felt unfair to keep this from her. She was getting worried about her lover and from the looks of it. she had every reason to. With a soft sigh escaping the boy's lips, Casper called out for his aunt, dreading the idea of being a bearer of bad news. Alas, such was the reality of this scene.

"I think something might be happening in Seattle..." Casper spoke, his voice as quiet as ever as he motioned towards the screen.

Squinting her eyes as she gazed upon the streaming video, Aunt Claire had wasted no time in arriving at Casper's room. For him to call out like that, it never happened. Casper stuck to himself and he wasn't known for sharing information found on the web. It didn't take long for Aunt Claire to freak out, losing her cool and dropped down on the boy's bed. "Casper, what on earth is this? Some kind of joke?!"

"Don't know." He continued to shift between tabs, those of which he had yet to refresh, and illuminated the situation for his dear Aunt. If this was true, if any of it was true, expecting Kyle to pick up appeared to fall under the category of wishful thinking.

"We need to go there..." Claire spoke through gulps of disbelief.

"It's too far away." Going to Seattle right now wasn't the smartest decision in the world, either. If Kyle wasn't picking up, odds are he had kicked the bucket. Yes, it was a blunt assessment but Casper was no one to beat around the bush. Driving from New York to Seattle would take forever and if Kyle was indeed alive but had lost possession of his phone, he would surely have bit the hay upon arrival. The situation looked bleak at best.

"If this is real, we can't just sit here and do nothing! Kyle is there!" They say that hopelessness is the worst feeling of demise. Knowing that you can do nothing while everything you care about is being torn down around you. It was an emotion Casper had gotten far too well acquainted with, which was a reason as to why he had grown jaded and desensitized.

"Check this out!" Sara commented, the small Skype icon in the bottom bar highlighted with an orange glow. Opening the program, Casper clicked the link she had posted and was immediately brought to a gathering of videos taken of the catastrophe. If this was fake, someone was sure to get every angle of Seattle in their footage. Paling at the sight, both Casper and his Aunt could do little but stare in hopes that this was some kind of sick prank. At this point however, one could draw an obvious conclusion.

.

Anastasia could not even comprehend this was even happening. She could feel her brain was on shut down as she practically ran for her life to get out of the city as fast as she could. As she looked up to the road ahead of them she could see a checkpoint about a mile up. Finally I can get some help!! She thought to herself as she began to run towards the check point a mile ahead. She knew the military would try to keep citizens safe, right? That's why they serve our nation's military is to protect and serve. Her father was in the army and that's how he sacrificed his life in the Italian Military saving them from a terrorist attack a long time ago.

As she got closer to the military they started to all pull their guns out. She knew that something was terribly wrong. "GET ON THE GROUND NOW!!! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND ON YOUR KNEES!" She screamed as they all started getting closer to her. She did as they said and still yelled over them. "WHY?!?!?" She cried out. "I am a US Citizen!" She said even thought it was clear she had a Italian accent through her cries for help. "I JUST WANT HELP!! HELP ME!!" She screamed out as she felt a really hard hit to the back of her head as she fell down on the ground instantly unconscious