The morning air in Lewiston, Idaho carried the scent of gunpowder as the sun crawled over the mountain ridge. John Reed crouched behind a modified pickup truck, surveying the federal grain repository five hundred yards away through high-powered binoculars. The gray concrete structure, one of the largest government food reserves in the Northwest, was now heavily guarded by twenty National Guard soldiers.
"They've increased their numbers," John lowered his binoculars and turned to his deputy. "At least two more Humvees and another squad arrived overnight."
A twelve-year Marine Corps veteran with two overseas tours under his belt, John Reed had founded the "Idaho Sovereign Citizens Alliance" after his discharge. The group had hundreds of followers, but until now, they'd limited themselves to drills and protests. This time was different.
"The financial collapse on the East Coast wasn't an accident," John addressed the twenty-plus armed individuals surrounding him. "The government is controlling all resources, preparing to implement martial law. This food belongs to the people, and we can't let them monopolize it!"
His followers responded with enthusiastic affirmation. They were well-equipped—semi-automatic rifles, bulletproof vests, tactical communication equipment, and even a few anti-tank rocket launchers. Most had military backgrounds and operated with strict discipline.
John opened his tactical tablet displaying detailed floor plans of the repository. "The plan remains unchanged. Group A secures the eastern hill for cover. Group B approaches the main storage from the west. Group C controls the southern entrance. Our objective is to secure the facility and distribute food to local communities."
He looked up at his team. "Remember, we're not here to start a war. Those uniformed folks are just following orders. Use minimal force unless they fire first."
With a sharp whistle, the armed personnel split into groups and began advancing toward the repository. John led the main force through the western lowland approach. Halfway there, the loudspeakers on the facility fence suddenly blared to life.
"Attention! You are entering a federally controlled military zone. Drop your weapons and withdraw immediately, or we will consider this a hostile action!"
John raised his megaphone: "We are citizens of Idaho! That food belongs to the people! We demand peaceful negotiations to allow us to distribute portions of the reserves to families in need!"
The response was the shrill sound of alarms. National Guard soldiers raised their weapons, a row of M4 rifles taking aim at John's squad.
"Final warning! Drop your weapons or we will open fire!"
John clenched his jaw, raising his right hand to signal his team to halt. This was a gamble—they were prepared, but the consequences of engaging with regular military forces were unthinkable.
At that moment, a massive explosion erupted from the eastern side of the repository. John turned to see an orange fireball rising into the sky. That wasn't part of their plan!
The National Guard immediately diverted their attention toward the east, deploying forces in that direction. In the confusion, John made a split-second decision: "Now! Group C, breach the entrance!"
The southern team rushed toward the repository gates, setting explosive charges. Seconds later, the entrance blew open. Through the thick smoke, John led his armed personnel into the facility.
The National Guard responded swiftly, opening fire on the intruders. Bullets struck the concrete wall next to John, sending fragments flying. He dropped to the ground, positioning his AR-15 to return fire.
"Control your fire zones! Don't harm the guards!" John shouted into his communicator, but the battle had already spiraled out of control. Several guards fell, and the militia suffered casualties as well.
John led his remaining team members into the main storage area, filled with tons of food and drinking water. He quickly ordered his people to load supplies onto trucks while establishing defensive positions at the entrance.
"Similar actions are happening across the country," John told the loading team. "Detroit factories, Chicago exchanges, and now us. The system is collapsing."
His communicator suddenly crackled with an urgent report from the lookout position: "Large military force approaching! Repeat, military helicopters and armored vehicles! Regular army, not National Guard!"
John rushed to the window. In the distance, three Black Hawk helicopters approached at high speed. Would the government deploy this level of force against a simple food protest? Unless—
He made an immediate decision: "Withdraw! Everyone withdraw! Take what supplies you can and evacuate now!"
In the White House Oval Office in Washington D.C., tension hung heavy in the air. The President stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the lawn. National Security Advisor Ryan Black stood before the desk, holding the latest situation report.
"Sir, the situation is out of control," Ryan's voice was taut. "In the past 24 hours, there have been 215 major riots reported nationwide. Thirty-one cities have implemented curfews with limited effect. Armed conflicts have erupted at New York's financial center, Detroit's factory districts, West Coast technology parks, and multiple Midwest food storage facilities."
The President turned, his expression grim. "People are panicking. They don't trust the government, they don't trust banks, they don't trust each other. We need to restore order."
"The problem is, we can't identify the source of this crisis," Ryan flipped through his documents. "Preliminary analysis from the Treasury and Federal Reserve indicates the financial system has suffered an unprecedented cyber attack. More concerning, the riots across the country seem coordinated, as if someone is orchestrating them."
The President walked to his desk and pulled up an encrypted file on his computer. "This is a report from a cryptographer at the New York Federal Reserve. She believes this attack might be connected to a classified project called 'Atlas.'"
Ryan quickly reviewed the file, his brow furrowing deeper. "She's certain the attackers knew every vulnerability in the system. No ordinary hacker could accomplish this."
"Precisely." The President pressed the communication button on his desk. "Have the Joint Chiefs Chairman come in."
Moments later, a uniformed general entered the office. The President spoke directly: "General, it's time to implement 'Shield Protocol.'"
The general nodded gravely. "Sir, the troops are on standby. But I must warn you, using regular military forces to address domestic unrest will have serious consequences."
"We have no choice," the President's tone was resolute. "Order troops to deploy in all major cities to protect critical infrastructure. Prioritize the security of food, energy, and communication systems."
Ryan interjected: "The situation at the Lewiston repository in Idaho has escalated. Local militia exchanged fire with the National Guard. We've dispatched special forces to handle it."
The President sighed heavily. "This is just the beginning. Prepare a national address. I'll declare a state of emergency. Also, find that cryptographer—Erin Wu. If her analysis is correct, she might be the key to resolving this crisis."
Ryan hesitated. "Regarding Dr. Erin Wu, we just received a report... she's missing from the secure room at the New York Federal Reserve. No one knows where she went."
The office fell into silence. Outside, the first military helicopters had begun circling over Washington.