"What is a hero? I've asked myself that question so many times, it's burned into my mind, like a brand. Ever since I joined this war, I have found many answers, yet I never wished to. But which were right? Which were wrong? That, I do not know. You may not understand what I am talking about. You may be asking yourself 'what war?'. Well, allow me to start from the beginning...

It all began years ago, but for us, it began in 2024. The KPA, Korean People's Army, had launched satellites around the world. Everything was fine then. No one had any fears. But then, in 2025, it happened. The satellites sent out a global EMP, and the KPA invaded America. They took the western seaboard in a matter of short days, defeating the US army there in one, swift strike. Eventually, they had control over the Eastern half of America. Our hope began to rise when, in 2027, San Francisco was taken back. But that only made things worse for us. First, they began sending more troops in. Then, they dropped the bombs, setting fire to towns and cities. Every victory for those resisting was a loss for us. By 2032, they had taken all of the south, west and east parts of North America. Then, they expanded to other continents. Europe, Australia, Africa. Nowhere was safe. For every satellite destroyed, they sent up two more. They began a war against the world, and the world was losing. By 2037, half the world was theirs.

That is where I came in. I had turned 17 in that year, and lived in a small town, under KPA occupation. That year, everything in my life changed. For the worst..."

Chester, Pennsylvania, 06:50 3rd March 2037

The day was young. The sun shone down on the small town of Chester. There were not many modern buildings, and those that were modern were owned by the garrison. By the time the whole town was bathed with light, a siren had sounded, and the inhabitants of the town came out of their homes, ready for their daily lives. Now, you would expect that this town had everyone laboring around while the KPA guards mock and taunt us. But in truth, it was very much the opposite. Sure, a few of us worked hard, and there most of the garrison were bad apples, but there were a couple that were nice. At least, nice enough not to make you trip in the mud, or knock you about while you carried firewood for your family.

I rose out of bed, and looked out the window. Like every morning, I opened it and felt the cool breeze rush in, blowing my light brown hair back. The sun warmed my skin, and I smiled with my eyes closed, taking in the smell of spring. But it was to be the last time I would, for spring was coming to an end, soon to be replaced by summer. After about a minute of sitting there on my bed, I stood up and stumbled lazily over to my closet and got myself dressed. Today's attire consisted of a green T-shirt, tan trousers and white sneakers. On my way out, I plucked my lucky cap from the top of the door.

The reason why I think of it as lucky is because of all things, it survived. Everything else had been destroyed in the...I stopped myself from thinking back further. It had been a dreadful day, and I did not wish to think about it anymore. So I pulled the cap on and continued on down the stairs to the kitchen, where my mother had a piece of toast already waiting. We never got much, but she always managed to make it a filling and tasty meal, no matter what we had. You give her a single grain of wheat, and in a couple of days, you'll have enough bread for the whole town. Before things went bad, she used to work in the bakery.

She wore a light-yellow T-shirt and faded dark jeans with a pair of socks on. The same white pair she had on around the house every day. I swore that it was always the same pair, but she had a whole bunch that looked the same. Her skin had a pale complexion. Her wavy blonde hair was tied up in a bun behind her head.

"Good morning to you, handsome" she joyfully greeted with a smile as she set the plate down, her British accent thick in her voice. Even her blue eyes seemed to smile. She was always complimenting me on my looks. But she complimented my father more. Much more. "Pleasant dreams?" I nodded.

"Just like always, Mom." I sat at the table, and dug into the food. Halfway through, I could feel my stomach reaching the point where it would hold no more. I had one quarter left by the end of it. She went outside and scattered it through the grass in the backyard, and the birds swooped in. She dusted the last of the crumbs before returning inside. The whole time, I sat and gazed through the window. She seemed to have a way with the animals. They feared everyone but her. Maybe it was because of how kindhearted she was.

As she came in, the sound of a door opening in another part of our home creaked through, then there was a click as it closed. My father walked in, his brown jacket dirtied with oil.

My father wore this jacket every day to work, along with his thick, grey pants. Both had dirty blotches of oil covering them. His light brown face was darker than it's natural complexion, thanks to oil. his black hair was gleaming and slick with oil and grease. He worked on the vehicles the KPA had, such as minor repairs and the changing of oil. Of course, he was always closely watched. But they seemed to trust him. He used to work as a mechanic, so this was the best job for him. He earned the rations, and my mother put them to use. And me? Basically, I was lazy. I hardly ever did anything, except for maybe helping my mother around the house a bit. My father tried to teach me about engines once, but I fell asleep. He gave up after that.

"Good mornin' all!" his voice boomed. His accent gave away his heritage, which was from Texas. I gagged as the smell of the car oil and grease hit my nose. i had always found those smells disgusting, and yet, they were a part of my everyday life. He raised his gloved hand to his face and wiped it over with a rag. "Smells good. What's for breakfast today, deary?" She set down the same breakfast I had in front of him, and unlike me, he took it nice and slow.

"How was work, Kyle?" He shrugged, his mouth full. After he swallowed, he answered.

"It was fine." His voice was lower now. That wasn't good. It usually meant that it was not fine, and something had happened. She rested a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay. I heard about it." They both had sorrowful looks. I knew why. Last night, one of my father's friends had been killed when a soldier thought it would be funny to kick at the lever of the jack holding the car up. He had died within seconds. After a moment of silence, Kyle spoke up to change the subject, turning to me. Now that he looked at me, I felt small as he stared at me with his dark brown eyes, under those thick brows.

"How was your night, Jason?" That was my name. Jason Matthews. My father was Kyle Matthews, and my mother was Jessica Matthews. I gave the same answer I gave my mother. My mother sat by him and started to eat her breakfast. She ate half as much as us, which resulted in her slim form. Kyle had urged her to eat more, but she always refused, wishing to use the rations sparingly. These times were hard on us all.

My eyes moved to my silver analog watch, then they darted to the radio in the middle of the table when I realized the time. My hand reached over, but I was stopped by a gruff voice.

"Son, you know I don't like ya listenin' to that. It gives us nothin' but trouble." I ignored him and switched it on, tuning it slowly to get to the right station. I heard a familiar voice as I passed it, and quickly turned it back and forth until it was clear. Now the voice was clear. It was a feminine voice, and sounded at least my mother's age.

"Yesterday, we were shown the true colors of the KPA once more. Another small labor camp had been massacred by a bombing. They blame the Resistance for it, but you shall know the truth. An hour before, the garrison pulled out. They knew what was coming, and abandoned the innocents to their fates. Only five were saved by nearby Resistance forces. Take this as a warning. They will spare no one. This is the Voice Of Freedom. And we shall guide you to victory." There was a faint beeping, then static. My father switched it off.

"I don't believe it. I know the KPA can be cruel, but this? This is ridiculous!" he hissed in disbelief at the radio. Mother nodded, agreeing with him. But I did not share their views. I hated the KPA. They had done things like this before. Even though this was the case, I kept it to myself, or I would receive a scolding from my father. The way he was headed, he would be joining the army, if he was allowed. But they would never allow an American to join them. They were strictly Korean, and sometimes Chinese of Japanese. They looked down on us Americans, and hated us. That I would never understand, considering that it was them who invaded us.

The scrape of the chair moving across the floor caught their attention as I stood to leave. I turned to the stairs and stalked off. Even though I could not see their faces, they were most likely filled with confusion. I spent the rest of the morning up there, laying on my bed while staring up at the ceiling. At some time, without knowing, I drifted into a long sleep, wishing for a dream to take me to a better place.

It was becoming dark when I awoke. And that was exactly the time I wanted to wake up. Beside my bed sat a backpack, packed with the items I was going to need for that night's plan.

I climbed out from my open window, taking it slow and quiet, being watchful for any patrols that were to come by. After a double check to make sure the street was clear, I ducked and ran across to the other side to take cover in a short bush. And just in time, as a small recon drone hovered by, scanning the road ahead of it. I waited until it was completely out of sight, then turned away from the street and headed deeper into the town. My house was towards the outskirts, but my destination was towards the center of Chester. It was cold, and I could swear I had goosebumps on goosebumps. I wasn't sure if they were from the cold, or from some fear that lurked within.

A couple of blocks over, there were two others. One was closer to my age, and was a lot like me, except that he had red hair instead of my brown hair, and his eyes were green, unlike my blue eyes. His skin was a darker tone than mine, looking like he had been in the sun too much.

The other was a boy, at least thirteen. His hair was dark brown, and his eyes were a much paler blue than mine. They seemed to sparkle in the darkness, as if I was staring at two moons. His skin was as white as the sand of the whitest of beaches.

"Took you long enough. Stop to gaze at the stars for a bit?" the older boy asked. I glared back, but added a grin with it, knowing he was being sarcastic, as he always was.

"Lay off, Marcus. I woke up a little late, and had to avoid a drone. But I'm fine. No one caught me" I promised. But just in case, I cast a couple of quick glances to our surroundings. "At least, I think no one did." Marcus rolled his eyes at me and went on his way, leaving me and the kid alone in the dark. "We'd better catch up, Little Tom." That was his nickname, because in actual fact, he was sixteen. But he was really small, and I mean really small. He looks like his thirteen or twelve with his height and young face. But that's just how he is. So we called him Little Tom. And he was fine with it. Most of the time.

He willingly followed, warily watching around. but i kept my eyes forward, trying to seek out Marcus in the darkness.

"Marcus" I called out, but cupped my hands so the sound was directed in his direction. I was being as careful as I could possibly be, because if you were caught out here, at this time, that was practically a death sentence. Even though that was the case, we still did it. You might think us as stupid, but what else could we do? It was a boring life here, always either working or staying cramped up in your bedroom. So obviously, we had to have a little fun. And the danger made it even more so.

We found our tanned friend at their set destination, leaning against the all with a can in his hands. His eyes darted from the can to us.

"Once again, you are late. You should work on it, or it might get you killed" he lectured mockingly, putting a finger to his throat as he finished.

"Late? I am never late" I scoffed, knowing all too well he was right. But I never liked to be lectured, or scolded. Especially from someone who wasn't my parents. "Shall we?" I asked, taking out my own can. He nodded, and we pulled up our masks over our faces and pressed down on the top of the cans and started creating our masterpiece. Tom kept watch from a nearby trashcan. We spent half an hour doing this, going from wall to wall until either we were caught, or we got tired. We preferred the latter, but it seemed that fate had a different outcome in mind.

"Freeze!" We froze, and slowly turned around. A KPA guard stood there, aiming his rifle towards us. If it wasn't for a masks, he would have recognized us if we escaped. He was past the trashcan where Tom had been. But he was nowhere to be seen, meaning he had run off. Marcus noticed and thought the same.

"That little bastard" he hissed. I knew he was imagining himself pummeling the shorty to a bloody pulp. The KPA guard took out his radio, removing one hand from the front of the rifle. If he fired, it would be aiming at the ground. So we took our chance, and bolted, the guard shouting after us to stop. We never did.