Oh if this were a movie, I'd here that delicious click as the gun loaded, thought the man. At 6'2 and with far too little meat on his bones to justify the height, he was resisting the urge to get violent. Instead he rolled his eyes, and it seemed as if he were somewhere else, someone else.

"I can't let you do this Major. You can't do this. Please," came the voice of a middle aged woman, bearing the credentials of an Associated Press member around her neck. But in case feminine wiles failed her, she also held one little 9 millimeter Beretta pointed at the Major's head. "Worthington. Job, you have a wife, three little children, you don't want to do this. Please…don't do this."

And Major Job Worthington of the Totenkopf Volunteers looked around the command station. Some of the white men were draped with swastikas on their necks or hands, or in Micholobbi's case, on both, where they couldn't be hidden, and the black men with other tattoos he would never be able to identify because of cultural differences. The white women were smarter; they had no tattoos to mark them as morons. But they all watched intently; were they rooting for him or her?

Major Worthington tried to resist shaking in the night cold. They were in some town he couldn't pronounce in a town in eastern Somalia, 40 km outside of Mogadishu. He supposed before Yellowstone went up and the sun still shined properly, it would be rather hot, instead of chilled, and insufferably cold in the evening. Calming himself with a deep breath, grabbed for the gun with a ferocity that stunned even him, Major Worthington pulled the gun up which caused the reporter's ill trained hands to fire the piece into the ceiling. He grimaced as he punched the reporter and knocked her to the ground, her grip on the pistol was not enough.

"Let me ask you a question, Mrs. Bernstein. Do you believe in God?"

The reporter seemed stun and this made the early wrinkles of early middle age seem all the more pronounced "What does that have to do with anything?!"

He smiled coldly, "I figure not, little Jew. You bagel dogs are the most un-pious people on the planet. So accomplished, so refined, and always too stupid to remember that you have a covenant with God. When you abandon that covenant, you suffer…now before you open your liberal, New York, bagel dog Kike mouth, I advise you to remember I have your gun, and mine and you're surrounded by anti-Semites who hate you on principle. Me, I just hate your politics. See, one day the Jews will become a great people again. It's already happening, it's been happening before I was born. Soon the temple will be rebuilt, and all the nations will come to it to acknowledge the one true God. The Jews will all return to Israel and New York Jews like you will be forgotten. Anti-Semitism will disappear like 'No Dogs and Irishmen allowed.' Now, unlike you, I have spoken to God, and do you know what? He told me I had a destiny." He then rapidly took the Beretta, put it to his head and pulled the trigger.

An empty click followed. Jennifer Bernstein's eyes expanded in horror. She'd seen tricks before but it was her gun. Worthington looked at the gun, turning it over. "And until I fulfill that destiny, I cannot die. Thing is, I have no idea what that destiny is." He pulled back the receiver and a shell was ejected. It was clearly dented, it was a dud. "Of course, it could be any number of OTHER things. The bullets are made in Mexico, the gun is Italian and the last thing the Italians made well en masse was the Gladius or it could be bad storage conditions, or pure luck, or…"

"You're insane!" she finally got the metaphorical gag out of her mouth to speak

"And you're a fool. Do you honestly think for goddamned minute I'm going to listen to your latte sipping, peacenik ass? After what Abu Karim did to Bern and Zurich and especially, ESPECIALLY to Vienna?" He bent over to Bernstein, still prostate, and clapped loudly in her face. "Two-thirds of the city; two-thirds died. Just like Nostradamus predicted. Not even at the end of World War II did the Reich get pushed out of Austria, and here they folded like a house of cards. The Reich survived Hitler, the Nazis, the Communists; it'll survive. But the gauntlet has been thrown down and I think it's time to respond.

Bernstein tried to get up, but Micholobbi leaped from his chair "Hey Major," he said, grappling her "want me to off the little Jew twat? She deserves it. I'm getting sick of her Jew-lies."

And the Major responded, "Micholobbi, stand down. We've put up with her shit for three years, another night won't help things." Micholobbi looked disappointed "There's the fucking Yemeni army in Mo-town, we gotta wipe it out or Eithiopia's done for. I want her to watch." He went over to the Communications console where a not so attractive young woman with black hair was waiting, "Sergeant!" he barked,

"No…" was all the reporter could breathe out.

"Transmit the following. Code Crop-dust, alpha six one, three, three two six sixteen. Fire at will. And play the music." And it was done.

Mogadishu could never be considered prosperous by any other part of the world, but as the largest city in Somalia, it had a prosperity all its own, seen all the more positively in these times when the average GDP in the developed world was half what it had been a decade before, in the good times.

But the The Emir was not there to enjoy things. He had just come to put things in order. Yes, the Somalis had agreed to join the Caliphate, and war on their infidel neighbors, but for petty territorial gains, not the righteous jihad commanded by the Prophet. The clans of Somalia were unruly and were admittedly the weak point in the Madhi's attempt to subjugate Ethiopia from all sides. They were not good, pious, Muslims. So The Emir had brought an army from his native Yemen to finish the job. God be praised all that stood in the way were a pathetic band of Christian blacks, and strangely enough, an army of Frankish racists. Dijjal was a fool to send them here, but they had proven surprisingly tenacious and loyal to their dark-skinned superiors. And now they were at the doorstep of the capital of HIS new emirship.

The interpreter stood, ready to serve The Emir. His name was Abdul, and he was shaken by recent events. The great armies of the Caliphate had gathered together to crush the Zionist entity once and for all. Finally, the Zionists would be served justice, or so he had been taught. And yet before the battle could begin the armies were smote, and there was really no other word for it. Hundreds of thousands, burned to nothing, their tanks and APCs, many from the captured factories of Europe, melted into slag. Was it an infernal Jewish weapon? Or was it, as the Christians claimed, the Two Witnesses, the two who would preach at the end of time in the Christian tradition? Now Abdul was not a fervent Muslim, more of an Arab nationalist, and had none, or at least little, of the hatred of other faiths his bosses did. He thought it stupid to blame the Jews for everything when the Arabs themselves did so much wrong. He wished he were back in America, as a student, before the rise of the Caliphate.

He was pulled from this train of thought, as he heard the rumblings of a song, being played through the cities series of megaphones designed to call the faithful to prayer during the day:

Words like violence

Break the Silence

Come crashing in,

Into my little world

"What is this?!" demanded the Emir. None of his body guards moved from the walls of the great room, with its bare white stucco walls.

"It's a song sir, sometime their special operations soldiers hack the PA system" he replied, "you see, your eminence, they broadcast propaganda and try to make the people fall from the path of righteousness." Actually the messages were usually more like 'Abandon Islam or die' but he didn't want to press the issue.

"I don't care what it is. I want it stopped, now!" A few aides left the room to try and do just that. It would be at least an hour searching before they could neutralize this nuisance. The Emir got up from his chair and forced Abdul to the wall, his finger pressing into Abdul's face like blunted claws

"I can read your soul, boy" said The Emir, "You have the heart of an infidel. You want to dance to that filth. Do you know that music is haraam?" Of course Abdul knew that was bullshit. Arabs were the most pious of Muslims, who were the most pious of all peoples, and they had always had music. That was absurd. And Depeche Mode produced good music.

But The Emir could kill him with a word, and it was the word of the Madhi, so Abdul submitted. "Forgive me, your eminence. I am weak and prone to sin." The Emir let him go, and he slumped to the floor.

The Emir order his hooka to be readied with tobacco and walked away, his plain, but soft robes flowing behind him "It is not me you need to seek forgiveness from, boy. But seek righteousness in Allah's path; for He is oft forgiving…I sense something terrible is coming."

Sergeant! We're ready to begin" bellowed Private Sandra Masters from behind the M198 artillery piece. This would carry its payload 20 miles to the Mogadishu seashore.

"Good!" barked the sergeant, a burly man in his early 30s. "Here, I got a present for you." He tossed Masters a set of headgear. He had a bunch on his arm which he distributed to the other seven crew members plus himself.

Masters turned the thing over "What is it?" The other soldiers agreed in unison.

"Well, technically, it's a thingie…" and the sergeant laughed at his own attempt of humor. "Pukes, this is," and he pointed to his own, "A…psychic nullifier. Supposedly you put it over your head like this" and he took off his helmet and put the headgear on "and you'll be immune to any psych attack the Muzzies try and pull here."

"Bullshit!" said Private Masters, "If the Muzzies got psychic powers, then I got a dick the size of a bratwurst."

"That would make Bower happy," remarked one of her comrades.

"You could have a dick the size of a bratwurst if you want…inside of you," this time it was Bower himself. He chuckled evilly.

"Shut the fuck up!" Said the sergeant "These things just came from London, and if they say use them, then we use them." And several of them up the nullifiers on.

"Yeah, Dijjal's word is law now among the Kaffirs. Just like the Madhi's word law to the Muslims." Masters remarked.

"What did you say?!" Screamed the sergeant.

"I came here to kill darkies, not be the…the fluky of some megalomaniacal British cripple!"

"Masters," said the sergeant "wear the damn thing or not, it's not my business."

"Looks like a that headgear from Farscape." Said Masters as she reluctantly put the thing on, secretly hoping it wasn't some sort of mind control device.

Let's kill some nigs." He put his helmet on, "Fire!"

The screams of the dying were everywhere as the city of Mogadishu perished under the shells. Abdul's throat seemed to cave in. He couldn't breathe. This was VX, and he had no atropine.

All I ever wanted

All I ever needed

Is here, in my arms

Abdul prayed to any God who would hear him to make him pass out before the spasms got too severe. It didn't matter about faith, the virgins, the alcohol rivers; Abdul just didn't want to feel himself breaking his own back.

Words are very

Unnecessary

They can only do harm

Abdul Kasim, native of Yemen, fleunt in Somali, Ethiopian, English and his native Arabic, regarded by everyone that knew him as a gentle soul with no real desire to hurt anyone, a jerk might say a wimp, was dead; his heart gave out, after the convulsions had shattered his spine. The Emir on the other hand, along with his guards, stood still and passive. They too had no atropine, but it did not matter, they were immune. The Emir took a long drag on his hooka and exhaled, but little came from his mouth. He got up, letting the robes unfurl, revealing a fist sized hole in his abdomen, going clear through to the back where his spinal cord should have been. The remained to the tobacco smoke came out through it. It was a wound he had received in the conquest of Italy. He was compensated with many Italians POWs in recompense.

He knew that every man, woman and child in Mogadishu was either dead, or dieing. He could vaguely hear the cries of the little children, half in fear, half in horror as their parents died around them. VX is heavier than air so it would sink to their level too, and he could do nothing this time. He knew the man responsible was ultimately Dijjal, that deceiver, that murderer who stood in the way of Allah's designs. But the man who ordered it; well, he would come, and the Emir would kill him for his insolence. Or so he thought.

4 million people, civilians and soldiers alike died in one terrible night of VX bombardment. The rest of Somalia as well as Ethiopia's copious Muslim population, followed shortly thereafter. Nukes would disappear or fall back in their silos; just as the radical Imams had preached when Job was young, so unbelieving kuffirs had to find work-around. It is considered the beginning of the end of Islam. But it would not be fair to the soldiers of the Totenkopf Volunteers to add this final caveat:

Job was about to crow several hours after the bombardment began, "Well ladies and gentlemen. This is officially a war of annihilation!"

Cheers erupted at the command post along with some clapping "They used to say they'd win because they loved death more than we loved life, well let me tell you something, we are Whites! We are the most destructive race ever to walk the Earth, and we love to kill our enemies!" And he raised his hands in triumph and got the hoots "We will secure the existence of our people and a future for our children!" More cheers, "But in doing so we must aid others. We should, and I'm speaking to all of you, remember we are not monsters. Every one of us signed the oath that we joined up restore Europe to its proper state, not to murder, not to oppress non-whites. We want them resettled, where they are free of us and we are free of them. And this WILL come to pass! But now we are all brothers, whatever our color, in this great struggle against the ultimate tyranny." More cheers, especially from the Ethiopians who were always wary of the Volunteers intent.

He continued, "We came here to put things right and look at us! Dijjal did not believe our intentions, so he sent us to Africa, to humiliate us, to make us give up. Have we?!" A raucous 'No!' came from the soldiers "Well I for one have a new appreciation of our brothers in Christ! I have seen Ethiopia; I have seen a people hungry for enlightenment, for a better life, here not in ours but in their own lands, as it should be. And if any one you," and here he turned to Bernstein, "should ask why I, we, destroyed Mogadishu, I will tell you it is because despite being full of Muslims ready to revolt, and being attacked from all sides, the Christians of this land have never faltered, never failed, never given up and I swear before God we will not let them down when they need the Totenkopf Volunteers!" More cheers, this time the black men were louder than the Whites.

"Are you done gloating?!" Bernstein asked sickly. Rarely had she seen something so revolting her.

Worthington looked at her, strangely serene, "I'm not going to let Ethiopia fall. They've resisted Islam for 1400 years; I'm not going to listen to ignorant fucks like you when your view of morality will cause tens of millions to be dragged off in chains. They don't deserve it! Is that what you want, for millions of Christians to be dragged off in chains like in France, and Italy and Spain? You wanna see pagans being slaughtered? Hell the Muslims took Delhi last month, and after that massacre you still wanna fight civilized with these people?! Fuck you!"

"They're not all evil!"

"Relativist Fallacy! Neither were all the Nazis, that didn't keep them from sending grandma and grandpa Bernstein to an all expense paid trip to happy fun time at Auschwitz.

"That's bullshit! There was no Holocaust!" one of the women spoke up. Job got out his gun and preceded to pistol whip the woman, kicking her as she lay defenseless on the floor, all the while asking her again and again if she wanted to be stupid.

"I'm only gonna say this once: anyone who denies the Holocaust in my presence will be beaten for insubordination. You wanna be a little fucking Nazi, at least own up. Take responsibility," He went back over to Bernstein, the beaten woman was left weeping on the floor, "As I was saying, only this time, we're all Jews. This is the end of days for the Muslims too and in those days everyone who does not convert will be killed. It's in the hadiths, I have read them. I'll tell you what; any Muslim who crosses that line and renounces his faith, I'll fight to the death for him. That's more than what you'll get from the Madhi, I'll tell you that."

"You're a monster. You call them Nazis, you're a fucking Nazi!" Bernstein slipped and threw a nearby bottle at Worthington. Worthington was hit and fell to the ground, while Bernstein was wrestled by the other soldiers.

Worthington got up, rubbing his head and cursing vividly, he inhaled deeply, went over to Bernstein and grabbed her by the chin and pulled her up, "Listen bitch, the only reason I've left you alive is so tomorrow the AP can run this story and I want to pick the headline. 'Vienna is Avenged' you got that?" Bernstein made no acknowledgement, "Ta. Better a live Nazi than a dead saint. Ariel Sharon said that in 1982. Right before I popped out come to think of it. Smart man. Your kind: the liberals, the socialists, the faggots, are one step away from being killed, so you better remember that. You've lost. This is a judgment of an angry God, Muslims to punish Christians and Jews for their sins, Christians to pass judgment on Muslims, the most wicked people to ever walk the Earth. And you'd better pray Jesus comes back cause otherwise there are two orders that will shape the world from now on. We had freedom, and we blew it!" He slapped her, "Blew it! First we had an empire, now we've got a slum. Pick your side."

"Decent people…" Bernstein began, at which Worthington cut her off.

"Decent people are…are slaves trying to outrun their chains. Me, I'm not decent. I'll fight, and I'll kill the son of a bitch that tries to put a burka on my wife. Hang me afterward, but for now let me do my fucking job!" He put his finger into her chest "And you can quote me on that!"

You wanna run from problems? Mary's…my wife's grandpa used to work for Vaultec. Said in the 50s he came up with these nifty bomb shelters he called Vaults."

"Vaults?" Bernstein squeaked out, terrified for her life.

"Long term shelters. Technology wasn't there then, but I'm sure if you want to now you could build Vaults and hide all your liberal, faggoty friends away from what's happening now and hope it goes away but that's the coward's way. That's why they're fewer 'decent' people everyday. I used to be decent, Dajjal used to be decent, and if you live long enough, you'll used to be decent too. Pay attention: there are two sides, only one can save us from the other, so pick one: The Crescent or the Swastika."