Chapter 17 - Fallout

 Chapter 17 - Fallout

Japanese Headquarters

The room was suffocatingly silent, every pair of eyes fixated on the screen showing the aftermath of the missile strike. The dust cloud rising in the distance from the blast site blurred the once-clear streets of the city below. The force of the explosion had torn through buildings, leaving only skeletal structures and scorched earth in its wake. The ministers and military officials in the Japanese headquarters stood frozen in disbelief, none of them fully comprehending the gravity of what had just happened.

"This... this can't be real," one of the cabinet ministers stammered, breaking the uneasy silence.

Prime Minister Abe stood at the center of the room, his hands gripping the table in front of him. His mind raced, struggling to process the unthinkable. A missile strike—on Japanese soil, without any prior warning. Not from their military. Not authorized. A U.S. missile. He could barely form the words, but they tumbled out of him anyway.

"Did we… authorize this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Defense Minister, Takayama, visibly shaken, turned to the Prime Minister. "No, sir. This is an American strike. GBU-57A/B MOP... a bunker-buster. There's no way we would ever allow something like this." His voice quivered with panic. "Infrastructure is destroyed. There's no telling how deep the damage goes. The subway system, the civilians—what if they were sheltering nearby? What about the people we couldn't evacuate in time?"

"Master Xuán Zhīwén…" murmured one of the younger ministers, his face pale with dread. "He was still in the area fighting the Deep One."

The mention of Xuán Zhīwén sent a shiver through the room. The Chinese Alchemist had been a crucial ally, and his close friendship with Fujiwara no Seimei was well-known. Losing him could mean far more than just the death of a powerful ally—it could bring unforeseen consequences, and worse, a supernatural catastrophe if Fujiwara no Seimei turned on them.

Abe's gaze drifted toward Fujiwara no Seimei, who stood in the corner, his presence quiet but palpable. Seimei's face was impassive, betraying no emotion, no rage, no shock. It was the calmness that sent a chill down Abe's spine.

"Fujiwara-sama…" Abe began hesitantly, trying to gauge Seimei's reaction.

The Onmyōji's gaze remained fixed on the screen, unblinking. It was as though he were watching something that no one else could see. His expression hadn't changed since the strike, but Abe sensed something brewing beneath that serene mask. He looked calm, but the air around him felt thick with tension, like the moments before a storm.

"This is clearly an American strike," Abe continued, though he was mostly thinking aloud now. "The only ones with the capability to launch something this close to our shores would be the U.S. or China, but with the 7th Fleet nearby, there's no way China would risk something like this…"

Takayama nodded, his voice coming out in a rushed whisper. "Then what are they trying to do? Prevent China from securing Xuán Zhīwén? Or are they just reminding us—no, reminding the world—who's in charge here?"

"They don't trust us to handle the situation," Minister Kubo, head of public safety, added. "They want to deal with the supernaturals on their own terms… and they're making sure we know who's still the dominant power."

There was a tense pause, the gravity of the situation sinking in for everyone in the room. This wasn't just an attack; it was a message. But as the dust began to clear on the screen, something else started to emerge—two figures, still standing in the midst of the destruction.

Abe's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as he leaned closer to the screen.

"They survived…" A Cabinet member's voice was the first to break the silence. It was calm, matter-of-fact, but it sent a shockwave through the room.

Abe turned to him in disbelief. "What did you say?"

"They survived." He looked shocked seeing them rise up from the rubble

The Prime Minister blinked, unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing. "That… that missile was meant to obliterate the entire area. How could they have survived? It's impossible."

The screen zoomed in, and sure enough, amidst the wreckage, Xuán Zhīwén and the Archmage were still there. Whats more shocking is ? They look fine, as if they weren't hit by one of the Humanity most powerful weapon. Their defensive barriers had held, defying the sheer force of the missile strike.

Minister Ishikawa stared at the screen, his voice shaking. "That was one of the most powerful weapons in the U.S. arsenal… and it barely even fazed them."

Takayama slammed his fist on the table, his frustration boiling over. "If they can survive this, then what the hell are we supposed to do? We don't have anything that can stop them!"

Abe's mind raced, the implications spinning out of control. If the U.S. had just unleashed one of its deadliest weapons, and it had failed, what was next? Would they escalate? Would they fire a nuke at the heart of Japan?

Abe clenched his fists, his anger growing. "Call Washington. Now. We need answers." 

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USS Ohio, Near Japan Coast

Captain Elizabeth Hargrove stood rigid, eyes locked on the periscope, her heart sinking as the smoke began to clear over the Blast site. The aftermath of the missile strike was devastating—buildings reduced to rubble, infrastructure crippled. But amidst the wreckage, two figures were rising, seemingly untouched by the overwhelming blast. The alchemist Xuán Zhīwén and the Deep One Archmage were still standing.

Her hand tightened on the edge of the console. "How the hell…" she muttered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Captain?" The XO, Commander Davis, glanced at her, his brow furrowed.

She exhaled deeply, her face stern but hiding the frustration she felt within. "They're alive...., Both of them." The words came out almost in a whisper, but the weight of them echoed through the control room. 

There was a tense silence, the crew exchanging anxious glances. The mission had failed. 

Without hesitation, Hargrove straightened herself. "Dive. Take us down."

"Aye, aye, ma'am. Dive, dive, dive!" the XO called, relaying the order.

The alarm klaxon sounded as the helmsman called out. "Diving! Forty-five degrees, ballast negative, we're going under!"

The entire sub hummed with life, the familiar sound of ballast tanks flooding with water filling the room as the USS Ohio began its descent beneath the waves. The dim red lighting of the control room flickered as they slipped below the surface, disappearing from radar detection.

"Passing 100 feet," the dive officer reported.

Hargrove took a deep breath, letting the familiar sounds of the sub's systems surround her, grounding her amidst the growing pressure. "Level off at 500 feet," she ordered calmly.

"Level at 500 feet, aye," replied the helmsman.

"Captain," the communications officer called out, "Do we report to Washington now?"

Hargrove stood for a moment in silence, staring blankly at the periscope. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her shoulders. She didn't just fail her mission; they had unleashed an unholy weapon, and the targets were unharmed. Worse yet, they were supernatural threats capable of unimaginable retribution. 

"Send the message," she said, her voice firm but exhausted. "Mission failed. Environmental damage maximum. Both targets… unharmed."

"Aye, Captain." The comms officer's fingers danced over the console as he began encoding the report for transmission to Washington.

The air in the control room was thick with tension. They had carried out one of the most destructive strikes on Japanese soil since the Second World War, and the fallout—literal and political—was just beginning.

Hargrove looked over at her crew. Most were staring down at their stations, doing their best to avoid eye contact. The reality of their situation was sinking in, and everyone was bracing for the consequences. She could see the worry on their faces, the unspoken fear of what would come next. If those supernatural beings retaliated... no one knew what might happen.

Her chest tightened, but she kept her composure. This was not the time to let fear take over. "Helm," she called, her voice cutting through the thick silence, "head for the rendezvous point. Regroup with the 7th Fleet."

"Aye, Captain," the helmsman responded, setting their course.

The sub turned slowly, gliding silently through the depths of the ocean. For now, they would disappear into the dark, regroup, and wait. But deep inside, Hargrove knew this was far from over.

As the USS Ohio made its way toward the safety of the fleet, she stood silently at the command center, her thoughts swirling. The repercussions of this failure were massive—not just politically, but personally. They had fired the shot, and now they would wait to see if the world would fire back.

She sighed again, casting one last glance at the dark ocean ahead.

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 Oval Office, Washington D.C.

The room was eerily silent, jaws slack and eyes wide as the report from the USS Ohio came in. The confirmation from satellite images of the failed missile strike left everyone in the room stunned. President Trump sat at the head of the table, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a lead blanket. They had gambled—and they had lost.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and multiple aides rushed in, all speaking at once. "Mr. President, the Japanese Prime Minister is on the line—"

"News networks are demanding interviews—"

"Mr. President, we need to respond—"

Trump slumped back in his chair, his face hardening. His mind raced with the potential fallout from this disaster. A failed missile strike on Japanese soil. The Alchemist and the Deep One Archmage had survived, and now Japan was calling, demanding answers. He raised a hand, cutting through the chaotic noise in the room.

"No media interviews," he said, his voice firm. "Tell the networks we're assessing the situation. Stall the Japanese call for now."

The aides nodded and quickly left the room, leaving the president alone with his cabinet and top advisors. Trump glanced around the table, meeting the eyes of his foreign relations team, the Secretary of Defense, and the CIA director. Each of them had played their cards—some with more confidence than others. But it didn't matter now. The hand was dealt, and they had lost. Now, it was time for damage control.

Trump turned to the Secretary of State, who cleared his throat and suggested, "We could push the narrative that we were trying to help. The Deep Ones are a known global threat, and by the latest CIA report from our contacts in Japan, there's intelligence suggesting a ritual to summon the Great Dreamer is underway. We can say we acted to prevent a larger catastrophe."

The room murmured in agreement, but one advisor, sitting near the back, raised a concern. "But how do we explain launching a missile without Japanese authorization? That's going to be the hardest thing to spin."

General Adams, head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, spoke up. "We could argue we didn't have time. Waiting for diplomatic approval would've been too slow. The fight between the Alchemist and the Archmage could've drawn out the ritual, and by the time we had clearance, it might've been too late."

The Secretary of Defense nodded. "We could frame it as us acting in the interest of humanity. There's no guarantee the Japanese would've been able to handle the situation alone. We saw an imminent threat and acted."

There was a pause. Then, someone asked, "But what about Xuán Zhīwén? The Alchemist helped them. We basically bombed their ally."

Trump's eyes narrowed. "Casualties of war," he said, his voice cold and calculated. "We needed to act fast, and we took the shot. Our primary goal was to eliminate the supernatural threat. The Alchemist was collateral damage."

The room fell silent again, everyone absorbing the president's words. It wasn't the cleanest solution, but it was the only narrative they had that could stick. Humanity's protection, acting in the face of a global crisis, preventing the rise of an ancient terror. They could work with that.

"We push the blame onto the urgency of the situation," Trump continued. "Say we were acting in defense of the world. If we hadn't sent that missile, the ritual could've been completed. Humanity's survival outweighs a few casualties."

The mood in the room lightened slightly as they began finalizing the details of the cover story. But in the back of everyone's minds, there was an unspoken fear. The missile had failed. The supernatural beings were still alive, and the potential retaliation from them was terrifying. They hadn't just failed geopolitically—they had failed against something beyond their understanding.

The Secretary of Defense shifted nervously in his seat. "And if they retaliate?"

No one answered. They didn't know what form retaliation would take, or if it would come at all. But the fear hung in the air like a heavy cloud.

Trump broke the silence. "We'll deal with that when it comes. For now, we control the narrative. We hold our ground, keep our bases in Japan secure, and handle the press."

He pulled out his phone, glancing at the chaos unfolding on Twitter. Social media was exploding, people were speculating, panicking. He sighed deeply, scrolling through the flood of reactions. It was a bad move, he knew that now.

"Let's get ahead of this," he said, setting his phone down. "This is far from over."

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Twitter Discussion: U.S. Missile Strike

@NewsAlerts -

"BREAKING: The U.S. has launched a missile strike in Japan, targeting supernatural entities involved in a major battle. Both the Alchemist Xuán Zhīwén and the Deep One Archmage have reportedly *survived* the strike. Full details pending. #SupernaturalWar #JapanMissileStrike"

@RedDragon: Wait, the U.S. just launched a missile in *Japan*? Without permission?? 🤯 

@CthuluLover1988: It's all part of the master plan... the world belongs to the Old Ones anyway. They're just showing who's really in charge. This is only the beginning. We'll all bow to the Great Dreamer. 

@RegularGuy10 (Reply to @CthuluLover1988): Bro, you sound insane. Go outside, touch grass. 

@Anna_Pendragon: So the U.S. government just casually fires a missile at two supernatural beings... on foreign soil... yeah, this is totally not going to backfire 🙄 #WhatCouldGoWrong 

@DoomerSociety:Alchemist Xuán Zhīwén and the Deep One Archmage just walked off a missile? What even are these things?? 

@PatriotsFan2020:*Great job, @USGov! Risked starting an international incident and didn't even finish the job. Amazing strategy. #Sarcasm 

Official U.S. Government Statement: "The missile strike in Japan was a necessary action to prevent a catastrophic supernatural event. Intelligence indicated an imminent threat, and we acted to neutralize it swiftly. The safety of the global community was our primary concern." 

@King_of_Daoist (Reply to U.S. Gov Statement): Translation: "We just wanted to flex and it totally didn't blow up in our faces... literally." 🤦‍♂️

@TheMemeLord: U.S. Gov: "We launched the missile to help humanity." Meanwhile, the superpowered beings are just dusting off the rubble like it's nothing. #YouTried #SupernaturalFlex 

-@Pol_L : So... what you're telling me is that we shot a missile, barely scratched the supernatural forces, and now we might've pissed off two insanely powerful beings? Great. Just great.

 Forums and Chat Boards:

Thread: The U.S. Missile Strike Fallout - What Next?

User1: Yo, how in the hell did they survive a missile? I saw the footage, they took it head-on! Xuán Zhīwén and that Archmage must be gods or something. 

MageSlayer420: Not gods, but close enough. Alchemists and Deep Ones are ancient forces, way stronger than anything the U.S. military can throw at them. This missile was a joke compared to what they've faced over centuries.

SkepticDude: This is insane. The U.S. thought they could just wipe out a supernatural threat like they're playing Call of Duty. These beings don't play by our rules. They're above this. Bad move. 

MageSlayer420 (Reply): Exactly. You can't nuke your way out of an ancient magical war. This is like trying to swat a fly with a sledgehammer, and the fly is immortal. 

User2: What scares me isn't that they survived. It's what they'll do *next*. If they retaliate, we're not just dealing with politics anymore. We're dealing with forces we can't even comprehend. 

Hehe,69: To be fair, both Xuán Zhīwén and the Deep One Archmage were already in a brutal fight. But to shrug off *a missile* like it was nothing? That's next level. The U.S. just escalated a war they don't understand. 

ConspiracyCat: The real question is, why was the U.S. so eager to launch a missile? Something doesn't add up. Maybe there's more to this fight that we're not being told... what if they knew the Archmage was summoning something worse? 

User3: Whatever happens next, Japan's not gonna be happy about this. The fallout isn't just about supernaturals—it's about geopolitics. The U.S. just messed up big time. 

MagicWatcher: If these two can survive a *direct* missile strike, we're seriously underestimating how strong the supernatural world is. We thought we were at the top of the food chain—turns out we're not even close. 

ShadowMaster: Now the world knows: guns, bombs, and missiles won't stop these guys. The real power lies in the ancient magic that we can't control. Buckle up, things are about to get worse.

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Xuán Zhīwén punched through the pile of rubble that had collapsed over him with a single, focused strike, sending stones scattering. Beside him, the Deep One Archmage conjured a sharp jet of water that blasted through the debris, clearing his own path. For a moment, their eyes met—a flicker of tension hanging in the air. Neither moved, waiting for the other to make a move. But Xuán Zhīwén simply sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had already sensed the approaching presence of the Deep Ones, emerging from the wreckage like shadows creeping toward their master.

The Archmage did not attack. Instead, he turned toward his kin, leaving the battlefield to regroup. Xuán Zhīwén watched as the grotesque figures gathered near the Archmage, ready to protect their leader. It was a bad sign. The Deep Ones had numbers, and while Xuán was confident in his power, fighting them all head-on wasn't a risk he was willing to take, especially not with more unknown forces potentially lurking in the background.

As he stepped away from the ruins, Xuán glanced down at his hand. He clenched it into a fist, his body still brimming with energy from the interrupted battle. The missile strike had shaken the ground and rattled the flow of combat, throwing everything into chaos. If not for that interference, he might have found an opening against the Archmage. But now, the battlefield was shifting, and survival took precedence. He knew better than to let pride blind his strategy.

He couldn't afford to be swarmed. Fighting the Deep Ones one-on-one was manageable, but en masse? It would be difficult but manageable, However if a swarm of Deep Ones and additional back up comes he wouldn't be able to handle that. He'd heard from the Patriarch of the Kojo Clan about two other powerful figures—its either a Priests or a Archmages—spotted near the port. If they were involved, the risks only multiplied.

Xuán continued moving, putting distance between himself and the enemy. His sharp senses picked up the faint echo of something far more ominous. Looking up toward the sky, his eyes widened at the sight of a shadow slowly taking form—a colossal, indistinct shape hovering in the atmosphere. It was unmistakable: Cthulhu, the Great Dreamer, was beginning to manifest.

He sighed deeply, realizing the severity of what was unfolding. "So, the gods themselves will have to intervene..." he muttered under his breath, his thoughts racing. There was no stopping what was coming—not alone, anyway. The balance of power in the world was shifting, and even beings like Xuán Zhīwén knew they couldn't face this alone.

With a final glance at the gathering shadows overhead, he turned and headed for his friend, Fujiwara no Seimei. They need to plan for their next move, they cant afford to let Cthulhu descent and bring madness to this world.

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Author's Note

Updates will be slow this week(weekdays), I'll try to write and upload a lot, tomorrow But that's a maybe.