The War of 2020 Pt. 01

The War of 2020

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As always, please be aware there is graphic content throughout this text.

Support or constructive feedback is always appreciated.

Enjoy

~TY ❤

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The summer air swept clouds of thick black smoke through the grassy hills. In West Virginia, the air was hot and polluted enough already. His eyes stung, watering as he turned away from the fire. Pulling out a bandana, he spit before covering his mouth.

Another crop was lost to rival looters, the third one this week. They'd taken as much corn and soy as they could before setting the bare fields ablaze. We have been at War for over 5 years now, with no signs of it ending anytime soon. He had seen it coming for years and was prepared for it, as were several million others that collectively joined their side. When the time inevitably came for War, he was already positioned to be a Captain General in the National Conservative Army.

He was very successful so far, the Nationalists were winning over states because of some of his more ruthless strategies. Indifferent to the politics of his side, he enjoyed winning and shared the same basic values as his brothers. He wasn't racist per se and didn't really care much for religion. He was against the federal government, his efforts focused on dismantling it. By late 2021, he watched the last politicians flee Washington D.C, the Military having fractured into two sides, neither willing to protect them.

Asking soldiers to shoot their neighbor was just the first trigger. In 2020, the country fell victim to the worst domestic terror attack in human history, the Maryland E-12 Bunker Bombings.

A failed chemist with too much time and money on his hands, a private jet and 48 minutes was the second trigger. Having taken it upon himself to kill the politicians riding out the civil discourse in the E-12 Bunkers, he decided to drop over 34 tons of his own homemade bio-agent, an uncontrolled Virus that was able to target the brain stem, causing permanent brain damage within hours.

The bombs were dropped along the steep mountain side by private jet, meant to affect the immediate area. Unsurprisingly, it was engineered incorrectly and ended up killing almost the entire population of the East Coast, over a third of the country. Spreading hundreds of miles within days, the E-12 Virus was highly contagious. It has only recently been brought under control with a new vaccine. His name was Dr. Thomas Pelosik and he started the end of America as we knew it.

Having access to the vaccine or a natural immunity are the only way to even travel through some parts of the East Coast right now. It hit women and children especially hard causing ongoing reproductive failure and birth deformities.

Now that the Nationalist held 30 out of 50 states, he was strategizing the next steps needed to gain total control of West Virginia. It was barely considered their territory, the liberals were putting up a stubbornly long fight for this state.

They were getting desperate.

The Nationalist believed a key strategy to long term success was rebuilding the nation in their image. Total control over the enemy was necessary for that. Whether by accident or design, the Military Arm of the Nationalists had very narrow views for building the future. Their current orders were to kill any UPP member on site and enslave every woman found healthy and fertile. The latter mattering significantly more than the former.

The soldier to woman ratio was almost 25:1, with less than 50 healthy children born from thousands of troops this past year. Some states were better than others, his happened to be particularly hard hit from the fallout of the bombings.

All the strategy and experience in the world could have never prepared him for the moment he saw her though.

He had been walking through the thick forest behind his Compound, just getting some air before turning in for the night. The towering evergreens opened to a small clearing of tall pale grass, probably no more than a few feet high. In the amber glow of the sun, he could see three of his soldiers. Dead.

They appeared to have fallen around a single, much smaller body. He took out his pistol feeling for a clip in his pocket. Looking closer, he realized the small body lying between them was a woman. The white of her t-shirt was covered in blood and dirt, her dark blue jeans torn up and down her curvy thighs. Her hair was in a loose bun with wisps of curls falling onto her face and strapped to her back was a bayoneted M4 Carbine. He hadn't seen skin her shade of light brown in a very long time. Every soldier in his command was white. The few dozen women they had captured were almost all white as well.

Quietly, he stepped over dried leaves and twigs, trying to stay on the soft grass. She appeared to be asleep and didn't move as he approached. Now just a few feet away; he could see her soft features, the high cheekbones, a pert nose and plump lips.

She was beautiful.

Before he could move any closer, her eyes flashed open, sending a pulse of adrenaline through him. Her eyes, large and catlike, were the color of milk chocolate. He froze remembering what felt like a lifetime ago.

An entirely different world.

"Morgan?" he whispered.

He shook his head in disbelief, he didn't think he would ever see her again. They had gone to University here together, over a decade ago. Complete opposites in just about every way, she was an idealist while he was pragmatic. But she was surprisingly open-minded and easy to talk to. Oblivious to his advances for the most part, she was happily married to her husband Rick last time he spoke to her.

He never thought he would see anyone from the past again.

Especially not her.

*************

Jolting awake, she opened her eyes to a man standing above her. Blocking out the last bit of sunlight, she couldn't make out his face. Crawling backwards, she could feel her body ache. 'More soldiers already?' Gasping, her mind registered who he was.

"Joe?" she said breathless.

"I ... I can't believe... , " she stammered looking up at him.

Before he could respond, he heard the faint roaring engines of his soldiers Humvee's, returning from a routine scout. Without a word he picked her up, pulling her soft body into his, she tugged away from him twisting against his grip. "What are you doing Joe?!"

Discarding her bulky rifle, he glared down at her. "Shut up, Morgan."

She glared back at him. "You shut up."

She was exactly as he remembered. Carrying her back into the forest, he moved quickly trying to get away from the clearing. He couldn't let them see that she had killed so many soldiers. "Why did you kill my men?!" He hissed into her hair, more frustrated than upset. Taking long deliberate strides, he made it a few hundred meters before she started squirming in his arms again.

"Put me down Joe, I don't need you to fucking carry me." He stiffened but held onto her. He hadn't heard his name in such a long time, he didn't go by Joe any longer. "Listen to me," he said lowering his mouth from her hair to her ear. "I could have killed you right there, if my men find out you killed their brothers, they will not hesitate..."

"They came for me first, I didn't have a choice," she huffed into his shoulder.

"Don't ever mention what you did to anyone. Ever." He didn't doubt that his men came for her. He was surprised that she managed to kill them all without him hearing a single shot ring out. No matter what he thought, he knew that the penalty for killing his soldiers was death.

Making it back to his three story brick home, he went through the back door just as the sky turned black and the sound of curfew sirens blared through the night. Carrying her upstairs, he brought her through the wooden double doors of his bedroom, into the master bathroom. She covered her eyes, not used to the artificial brightness. The room was pristine with chrome fixtures and white tile floors.

"What happened?" He said, placing her on the edge of his large claw bathtub.

She wiped her eyes slowly before looking up to meet his. "Well Captain General Joe," she said bitterly, nodding at the gold emblem on his lapel. "As you know, the East is gone. The attack ... It took almost everyone ... even Rick," her eyes closed briefly as she took a deep breath. "The only people left are immune to the virus like me. I've been making my way West but ... without internet," she shook her head, "I had no idea you had already overtaken so much land."

He looked at her silently, he hadn't really considered what the other side of the War was like. He couldn't really, he had to win and winners cannot empathize with their enemy.

'Is she an enemy?' He thought studying her blood soaked clothing. Standing up, he walked to the tap, turning on the hot water.

"Take a bath, I'll find some clothes for you," he said. She didn't respond.

Walking to the bathroom door he closed it behind him, making sure to lock it from the outside. He needed to think, he needed to get away from her.

Putting her hand into the running hot water, she hated how much she had missed it. She had been fighting for so long, living with mostly men got her used to 5 minute showers. She couldn't remember the last time she had a bath like this.

It was unbelievable that out of all the people in the world she sees, it's fucking Joseph Murphy. Seeing his dark blue eyes staring down at her was akin to facing a grizzly bear.

He was always such an arrogant jerk, trolling and critiquing her opinions for the fun of it. She had heard stories of what happens at these Compounds. Murder, torture and much worse. Now she knew that was done at the hands of Joe, a fucking Captain General.

He looked so different now, his hair used to be a much a lighter red, now it was almost burgundy. He also didn't have tattoos all over his arms before, he looks so much more menacing with them.

She had made it this far, she couldn't let this throw her mission off track. Letting her hair out from its elastic, she rubbed her scalp tenderly feeling the long curls fall past her shoulders. Taking off the rest of her tattered clothes, she slipped into the scalding hot water, submerging herself.

She had found a way in and that's all that mattered.

************

"Three men were found in the North Quadrant, Sir. All KIA from close combat knife wounds to the abdomen and neck. A rifle was left behind with UPP markings from the United People's Party," Sergeant Griffin reported to CG Murphy in his downstairs War Room.

He was happy with how fast his men found the bodies, if he was a moment later they would have surely found her. "Do double rounds tonight, anything you see is shot on sight, understood?" He replied looking down at a map of the Compound and surrounding forest.

"Yes, Sir."

He nodded to the Sergeant, "I need you to get Lead Captain Smyth for me too, he's probably down at the Cabins. No one else is to bother me for the rest of the night unless it's a Red Level threat."

"Of course, CG Murphy." The Sergeant saluted and left as quickly as he had come, leaving Murph alone with his thoughts.

She's a UPP soldier, an undeniable enemy of his. He grit his teeth, they didn't usually have women as soldiers but those equality fag*ots would have anyone on the front lines willing to die for the cause.

He went over to his dark oak desk, settling down in his leather chair. He pulled out an old bottle of Bourbon from a side drawer. Opening the bottle, he paused before taking a long swig. "A soldier..." He scoffed. She was so small, barely 5' 5" but was somehow able to kill three of his men without firing a single shot.

How?

He stood as he heard Smyth's motorcycle snaking up his gravel driveway. Not long after, his front door opened, the sound of heavy boots echoing through the house. "Murph, you better have a damn good reason calling me up here so late," Smyth drawled.

He strode in wearing just camo shorts and combat boots. His bare chest heavily tattooed with a portrait of 'The Battle of Bull Run' under huge red scars. Zig zagging across his torso, they were constant reminders of his many victims. Smyth's shaggy brown hair was notably disheveled, his usually bright green eyes dark and groggy.

"Did I wake you up?" Murph said walking over to shake his hand.

"Of course you did, I was out hunting all day with Connor. We just got back a few hours ago," he said smiling.

Lighting a cigarette, "So why am I here, do you have some material you need moved or..." Stopping suddenly, Smyth looked behind Murph, his unlit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

Murph turned to see Morgan at the bottom of the stairs. His heart slammed in his chest. 'How the fuck did she get out of the bathroom?' His mind quickly hazed over as he looked at her for what felt like the very first time.

Now freshly clean; she wore one of his white tanks. On her it was just long enough to cover her pussy. Her brown hair softly fell down her back in large damp curls. Full perky tits peeked through the loose top. He could see her dusky pink nipples and the tight curve of her waist through the sheer fabric.

Bright brown eyes framed with thick black lashes stared back at him, her cheeks still pink from the hot water. He had never noticed the pale brown freckles peppered along the bridge of her nose or just how full and pink her lips were.

"What are you doing Murph?" Smyth said, his tone deadly serious.

Murph shook his head, "Smyth, I need your help."

Morgan stared at the two men. The room they were in was huge, full of military grade weapons and advanced technology. She had never seen such an armory in someone's house before.

She took a mental note of the layout of the room, large radar screens covered the walls and different assault rifles and machine guns stood in open racks.

Unprompted, Smyth went toward her, taking her small hand in his. Inspecting her face intently, his eyes burned into hers. "A half-breed... , " he murmured, running his hands through her damp hair. "I've never seen one like you before," he said quietly.

"What are you?" Smyth said tracing her slender fingers.

"What ... like my race?" She said looking back at Joe. He nodded quietly.

"I'm African and Irish," she said. "In that order."

Smyth studied her silently for a moment, her attitude amusing to him.

"You are beautiful," he said letting go of her hand.

"Thanks."

"Young and healthy," he continued, walking around her.

"Okay..."

"You know they will want her to be bred," Smyth said coldly. His eyes roamed her curvy outline; she would surely cause problems.

She shifted uncomfortably, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She thought back to the stories she had heard about women being 'bred' based on their race and fertility. Basically, raped over and over to satiate the soldiers and Officers in the name of re-population.

She searched his face, Smyth wasn't much different from Joe. He was tall with a full brown beard framing his square jaw. Ruggedly handsome, he looked exactly as he sounded, deeply Southern. The violent War tattoos on his chest and large deep scars slashed over them only hardened his look.

His eyes were the real problem though, they smoldered into her. Licking his lips, he put down his cigarette.

"I don't want her bred by everyone. I know how most of them are ... How they will be." Murph said, stepping towards Smyth. "I was thinking about using Rule 23."

Smyth let out a snorted laugh. "Rule 23?"

His smile quickly faded. "You'd need another Captain General to sign on for that, which means CG Barberi."

Murph grimaced, CG Barberi was his equal on the Compound and for all intents and purposes, the worst person he had ever met. He was a sadist, who truly enjoyed torturing and killing others for fun. A psychopath well before the War ever started.

"CGB would probably love her to be honest," Smyth said staring back at her. "He's always complaining about the lack of women."

Murph looked at her unsure. Perhaps she wasn't a soldier and just found the rifle, using it for protection. He lost track of his thoughts as Morgan turned toward the front door, her full supple ass now on display. "You could just let me leave."

Smyth sighed, talking quietly to Murph. "That will never happen."

"No one even has to know I was here," she continued.

With her back to them, Smyth continued, "I will help you with Rule 23 Red, but you know that means CGB will have her with you right? I can only give you my vote."

Murph nodded, "I know."

Morgan turned back to face them again. "What is Rule 23, Joe?"

Smyth looked at him slyly, "Joe?" Murph ignored him.

"It means two Captain General's and a Lead Captain can make an exception to our Code of Conduct for ... unique circumstances," Murph said. He left out the part where the rule was used to either kill a fertile slave or to brand them for private use to have children.

"An exception can mean a lot of things darling," Smyth said. "Best that we get CGB to agree before we go to the Command Table for approval." Smyth walked back into the War Room.

Leisurely, he swept all the maps and paper weights off the large steel table onto the ground. Looking back to Murph, he smiled, "Have you fucked her yet?"

Murph felt his face grow hot. "Not yet," he replied.

Looking to her again, he saw her big brown eyes dilate in response. The air grew heavy around them as she took a small step forward. "Do you want to fuck me, Joe?" She whispered, her voice shaking.

He took a step toward her, "Yes."

"It would just be you ... two?" she said, looking over at Smyth.

"For now... , " Smyth said moving beside Murph. "Just us."

Morgan felt a shiver go up her spine as she stood in front of them. 'Remember your training,' she thought. Timidly she took off the loose tank, feeling her exposed skin hit the humid air. She knew what they wanted and what she needed to do.

The quicker they fell for her, the better.

Murph felt his cock go rigid, her body was perfect. Curvy and soft, her wide hips dipped into a flat belly. Her perky tits were full, she had no tattoos and no scars, just smooth light brown skin. He went to her first, kissing her warm lips softly. As he felt her respond, he kissed her harder, his tongue exploring her mouth. His large hand grabbed her soft heavy breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers.

Smyth moved behind her, his hands running down her hips and over her tight plump ass. She could feel them both growing hard against her. Smyth against the small of her back and Joe against her stomach. Her pussy tingled as she thought of taking them both. She needed to use this opportunity to hook them in.

She never thought of herself as much of a honeypot, she was a fighter. She had trained knowing that this would be big part of her mission. She couldn't be raped if she enjoyed it, then it was just sex.

Right?

Murph stepped back from her, taking off his dark green uniform shirt. She couldn't believe how defined his muscles were or how his tattooed sleeves ran all the way up both of his arms.

When he unbuckled his pants, she saw he was already fully erect. With thick veins winding around his circumcised cock, she felt her pussy clench just thinking about him filling her.

She turned away from him childishly, embarrassed to see him naked. She had never imagined he would look so good. She hadn't had sex since Rick died three years ago, let alone with two men at the same time. She had trained for this but she hadn't exactly had a practice run. Her UPP mentor told her to be prepared for this

She wasn't.

Smyth was just as bad. Turning to face him, she was met with his barrel chest and saw his semi-hard cock hanging heavily between his legs. Smyth lifted her chin. "Are you scared of us?" he said gently, his eyes soft.