In a hidden underground bunker in North Korea.
“Why’d you do that!?” Kim Jong-Un asked a man hanging upside down by his ankles. The prisoner was bleeding from multiple cuts on his body and a small pool of blood had formed beneath him.
The prisoner fainted, and the dictator picked up a bucket of water and threw it at the man, waking him from his swoon. The water dripped down his body and joined the puddle of blood on the ground beneath him, diluting it and turning it from a rich red to a much lighter shade of pink. The soldier next to Kim Jong-Un punched the hanging prisoner in the gut, eliciting a groan from him and sending him swaying and twisting like a pendulum.
“Answer me, you KANNA SEKKIA!” the dictator screamed.
As the man swung back and forth, another soldier entered the room and whispered in Kim Jong-Un’s ear. “His family crossed the border to China three days ago, dear leader.”
Hearing that, the swinging man smiled, his teeth red from the blood leaking from his mouth. He groaned a hoarse laugh and Kim Jong-Un turned to him with a glare.
The man, now assured of his family’s safety, began speaking with some difficulty. “You think our saviors will let you go?” he sneered, then fell into a coughing fit. “You think a weak, pathetic country full of peasants—” he hacked and coughed again, then spat a bloody glob and continued, “—can give you what China can’t?”
“What do you mean?” Kim Jong-Un waved at the soldier beside him, who moved to the swinging man and stopped him from swaying.
“You abandoned China, who’s been helping our country since your grandfather’s rule. Then you tarnished our glory by allowing the new colonizers to rampage among our citizens and steal our legacy. And you would’ve let them continue taking advantage of us in the future,” the tortured man replied with great difficulty.
“And just what the fuck made you think that ordering an attack on our enemies would help us return to China?” Kim asked, his blood pressure rising from anger.
“They promised to support us... and even aid us in the great unification, taking our lost brothers and sisters who’ve been suffering under the yoke of the damned yankees....” The conviction in the prisoner’s voice showed that he was a true “patriot”, one that firmly believed in his country’s propaganda.
Kim Jong-Un knew there was no need to question the man in front of him any further. He was obviously a member of the China loyalist faction that actually believed the line of garbage the leadership of North Korea had been feeding their citizens for generations. His face twisted in a rictus of rage, he picked up a nail-studded baseball bat and hit the prisoner’s head with it until it burst, splashing blood and brain matter everywhere in the dimly lit underground torture room. He felt the warm wetness splatter on his face, but was uncaring.
He dropped to his knees and raised his fists in the air, then screamed his frustration to the heavens, but his anger didn’t decrease at all.
Although he might look like he wasn’t that intelligent, he was actually quite cunning and knew that the dead man in front of him had sealed his country’s fate. And rather more importantly, the fate of his family with it. He was more than certain that China would never come to his aid, as their treaty only covered unprovoked attacks on them, not attacks that they had provoked themselves.
He couldn’t even attempt to salvage the situation, as before he had even caught the man hanging in front of him, let alone tortured him, South Korea had already been hit by artillery and missiles. The estimated casualties had already crossed the half a million mark since the barrage had landed hours before, and now he couldn’t even attempt to explain anything; there was no way South Korea would listen to a word he said!
He left the torture chamber and walked into the control room, still covered in blood and gore. When he arrived, he asked his remaining loyal generals what the current situation was.
“Once their artillery and rockets suppressed the traitors on our side, they stopped attacking. At the moment, most of our artillery along the DMZ has been lost or is still moving to a tertiary firing position after their secondary positions were destroyed. All of our fixed emplacements have been lost. We estimate a drop of 30% in our capabilities along the 38th parallel, but we can still pull back what we have deployed to the coasts and reinforce the main line,” one of the generals reported.
“We noticed a massive surge in troop movements from all over South Korea, all of them headed to the DMZ. We estimate that an attack by South Korean and American forces is imminent and they’re simply waiting until everything is in position for an overwhelming counterattack,” another general added.
“What’s our response been?” Kim Jong-Un asked. Although he was the supreme leader, he had only arrived at the command bunker a short time ago and had been occupied with interrogating the traitor that caused their current mess since then. So while he understood the general picture, he still needed more details to fully understand just how fucked they were.
“The moment we received word that we’d opened fire, we immediately ordered them to cease fire. Then we ordered all of our mobile artillery platforms to move along their designated fire avoidance route and take up alternate firing positions. The South Koreans have so far been busy trying to destroy our long-range attack capability, so our casualties are fairly low at the moment. Most of our losses are in materiel, not personnel,” the first general reported. He had preserved most of their capabilities, but the losses were still heavy and he was unsure of his future at the moment.
“We also ordered the mobilization of our entire submarine fleet. They were caught unprepared and are currently onboarding their crew and taking on supplies for an emergency deployment,” the admiral in charge of North Korea’s navy reported, feeling somewhat ashamed of their lack of preparedness.
“Our air force is at max readiness and the pilots can scramble at any time,” the general in charge of the air force reported. His was the only force that had been ready when the hostilities had resumed between North and South Korea.
“Good. Now that everything’s coming together, someone get me a line to Seoul. I want to see if there’s any way to salvage the situation... there’s no harm in trying, at least,” Kim Jong-Un said with a speck of hope in his heart. He wanted to avoid an all-out war, as he knew there was no way the current situation would end well for him.
“We’ve tried establishing communications, but it seems like this time they’re the ones that cut the line,” the diplomatic attache butted in, his voice lower than the generals’ as he reported.
“What about China and Russia?” the dictator followed up.
“Russia offered to sell us arms and ammunition. China said they would reinforce their border with us and only act once our enemies come close to that line. They offered you a safe place to evacuate to, and our citizens in the north are currently rushing toward the border as refugees.”
“Fuck,” the North Korean leader whispered. He knew they were almost perfectly fucked.
“Contact America and....” He issued instructions to his diplomatic attache as he considered his options. Various plans and counterplans were coming to his mind and he spoke without a filter about things including potentially going so far as to launch a nuke at the American fleets that had upgraded their mission from interdicting trade to blockading the North Korean ports entirely. In this moment, the emergency situation had forced his mind into overdrive and he could almost feel himself slimming down from the calories his brain was burning as it churned out countermeasure after countermeasure.
As long as he could hold off the American response, he could salvage the situation. North and South Korea alone were mostly balanced in capabilities, and with the devastating first strike his traitorous general had ordered, he would have the advantage if America would only stay out of it.
After all, if he was forced to flee to China, or even Eden, he wouldn’t be able to guarantee his standard of living would remain at its current exaggerated heights.
“Prepare a speech. I need to announce a lockdown to keep our peasants from fleeing to China. Add in some propaganda about our upcoming glorious victory against the cowardly enemy that surprise attacked us,” he ordered.
“Yes, dear leader,” the attache responded, then left the room to carry out his orders.
Kim Jong-Un turned to his second-in-command and ordered, “Send three girls from the pleasure squad to my room. I need to calm down and think of other plans.” He rose to his chair, feeling like he had sweated out three kilograms of weight, then paused and turned around. “Where did the Edenians go?” he asked. He finally remembered the arrogant president of Eden and the provocations he had suffered, along with the pressure he’d felt that had made him shudder in fear.
“We aren’t sure. Our last report had them on the road headed toward Namp’o, but we lost them when they crossed the Pyongyang city limits. As for their jets, they were reduced to salvage by scuttling charges,” the head of the Reconnaissance General Bureau reported.
Hearing that, the North Korean dictator sneered and left the command center, headed toward his quarters. He wouldn’t waste time caring about the shitty Edenian president now that he had something more important to deal with.
