The Seer's last words—a cold, unapologetic declaration of self-preservation and the shocking revelation of other Gifted individuals—still echoed in the global consciousness. People were trying to process the concept of a selfish savior, a terrifying, omnipotent force. They were wondering about these "Gifted" people, about the island. And then, without warning, their screens filled with the sterile, panicked chaos of the NORAD Operations Center.
The sight of uniformed personnel screaming, the blaring alerts, and the terrifying, scrolling lines of code, quickly deciphered by the Seer's own chilling commentary, sent a jolt of pure, primal fear through every household, every public square, every device.
Tokyo, Japan – A Late-Night Diner:
The few remaining customers, nursing their coffees, froze. The television above the counter, usually showing a comedy show, now displayed the NORAD control room. When Sergeant Miller's terrified, hushed voice, amplified and translated by the Seer, revealed the words "nuclear launch code," the clatter of a dropped cup shattered the sudden, deafening silence. A woman gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. A salaryman's face, already pale from the day's earlier revelations, turned utterly ashen. They had just begun to hope, however faintly, that the Seer might be their path to salvation. Now, he seemed to be their executioner. "Nuclear?" someone whispered, disbelief warring with the cold, hard facts on screen.
London, United Kingdom – A Pub:
The lively chatter died instantly. Faces, previously filled with a mix of awe and trepidation regarding the "Gifted" people, now contorted in horror. The sight of the NORAD commander's frantic, futile commands against the unseen override was chilling. When the 1-minute countdown began to tick on the main screen, a woman shrieked. A man dropped his pint glass, beer splashing unnoticed on the floor. "He's... he's going to do it," someone stammered, their voice thick with terror. The Seer had promised to save them, but now he was unleashing the ultimate destruction. The betrayal, whether perceived or real, was soul-crushing.
Mumbai, India – A Crowded Residential Street:
Families gathered around small television sets or mobile phones, mesmerized by the unfolding drama. They had heard the Seer's self-serving confession, debated the coming of the "Gifted." But when the feed shifted to the NORAD command center, showing the unmistakable signs of a nuclear launch, a collective gasp swept through the crowd. The children, previously captivated by the glowing island, now clutched their parents, their eyes wide with incomprehension and fear. Elders began to murmur prayers. The Seer's voice, explaining his "eradication of germs," sounded like the voice of a demon. A young man, who had been excitedly talking about the "Gifted," now stared at the screen, tears silently streaming down his face. "This is not hope," he whispered. "This is madness."
Sydney, Australia – A Beachside Cafe:
Early morning risers enjoying coffee watched in stunned silence as the horror unfolded. The serene sound of the waves seemed a cruel mockery against the images of global panic. "Nuclear launch... our own weapons?" someone choked out. The distance, the perceived safety of their continent, offered no comfort. This was not a regional conflict; this was a global, suicidal act. The Seer's admission of self-interest now seemed less like honesty and more like a chilling prelude to absolute tyranny. The countdown on screen felt like the ticking of their own heartbeats, racing towards an inevitable, terrifying end.
The world held its breath, suspended in a horrifying paradox. The entity that had promised salvation was now holding the very trigger of annihilation. The raw, unfiltered panic from NORAD, broadcast for all to see, cemented a universal, undeniable truth: they were utterly, terrifyingly, at the Seer's mercy.
The White House Situation Room:
The White House Situation Room, usually a bastion of controlled power, had devolved into a maelstrom of desperate shouts and flashing red lights. President Michael Caldwell, his face a mask of disbelief and incandescent rage, stood frozen before the enormous screen that displayed the live feed from NORAD. He had just witnessed Sergeant Miller's terrified realization, the chilling cascade of nuclear launch codes, and now, the impossible: the countdown ticking down to zero on his nation's very own strategic arsenal.
"What is happening?!" President Michael roared, his voice hoarse, pounding a fist on the polished table. His face was contorted, veins bulging in his neck. "Gabbard! Powell! Tell me what's happening! Lock it down! Abort! Now!"
Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard, usually composed, looked shattered. "Mr. President, we're completely locked out! All our overrides, all our emergency protocols—they're useless! It's controlling the submarine directly! It's in every system!" Her voice was thick with terror.
The feed then cut to the interior of the submerged nuclear submarine, showing Captain Hayes's desperate commands to her crew, her futile attempts to regain control. The President watched, his breath catching in his throat, as his own military, his own chain of command, was utterly, brutally bypassed.
"He's launching our nukes!" President Michael screamed, his eyes fixed on the ticking clock. 00:00:40... 00:00:39... The sheer audacity, the unparalleled betrayal, the public humiliation of his office and his nation's ultimate defense, was unbearable. This was not a foreign adversary; this was an unseen entity, using his own power against him, against the world.
"This is an act of war!" Secretary of Defense General Mark Milley slammed his hand down, his face grim. "But against whom?! We can't even respond!"
The President ignored him, his gaze glued to the submarine's main screen, to the Seer's impassive mask. "He said he's not a hero! He said he's selfish!" President Michael muttered, the words barely audible, a terrifying realization dawning. The Seer wasn't saving humanity through traditional means; he was imposing his will through absolute, terrifying dominance. The "eradication of germs" he had spoken of suddenly took on a monstrous, global scale.
"Captain Hayes! Fight it!" President Michael yelled at the screen, a desperate, futile plea to his overridden commander. "Do something!"
But Captain Hayes, along with her crew, was a mere puppet in this horrifying spectacle. The countdown continued its relentless march. The President, the most powerful man in the world, was reduced to a helpless spectator, watching as his nation's ultimate deterrent was turned into a live-streamed instrument of an unknown will. The sheer powerlessness, the utter usurpation of his authority, was a crushing, humiliating reality. The world was being shown that even the President of the United States was utterly at the mercy of the Seer.