Many plot, so revelation, wow.

25/10/16: Department Seventeen

Amiens, August 1918.

Private Armin Rausseman stared agape at the oncoming tide.

Before him, he could see thousands of British infantry advancing over the field, overrunning the confused and exhausted German army before them. The lozenge-shaped tanks rumbled around them, blasting the once impenetrable German bunkers and machine gun posts into rubble. British and French planes blanketed the skies.

An officer bellowed an order, waving his pistol in the air. Rausseman and his fellows sprang into action, preparing their artillery piece to open fire at the advancing enemy. The loaders lugged a massive shell into the breach of the steel beast - Rausseman called the enemy's map coordinates and the gunners elevated the gun. With a deafening roar, the gun fired.

Then there came a terrible rumble.

A British tank crested the ridge, rolling straight towards the gun emplacements. It's machine gun opened fire - Rausseman dived to the ground as the gunners around him were cut down. He aimed his rifle and fired at the armoured monster, but there was no effect. He cringed as fear overtook him - he cowered in the mud, dropping his rifle.

A few minutes later, he felt himself dragged to his feet. An English sergeant was holding a Webley at his chest, barking orders to surrender at him.

As he was dragged away, something inside Rausseman swore he would never lose himself to that fear again - that he would always make sure that overwhelming might was on his side.

Operation Cleansing Tide was swift and brutal.

PURITY's deep cover agents had done their work well, Major Wilkus noted. Air detection systems across the United States, from NORAD to the smallest observation station, had been rendered non-functional by the viruses of their associate hackers. 'Useful idiots' had distracted police and government responses with staged demonstrations and riots, allowing PURITY's fast attack helicopters to roam unhindered. Conditions for the capture of the 'Dossier Subjects' were ideal.

Nowhere was this more clear than in the city of New York.

PURITY had trained hard for this day. Their chief advantage over the freaks, they knew, was surprise - the fastest possible insertions resulted in the best possible results. The stun weapons R&D had fixed them up with worked almost perfectly.

At very least, they hadn't had to get into infantry combat with the Hulk, which had been Wilkus' biggest fear.

Wilkus watched from his command helicopter, hovering in place above the Empire State Building, as the 'snatch and grab' choppers began to take off. He smirked.

"Sir," one of his command staff called, "We have a complication!"

"What happened?" demanded Wilkus.

"Several Avengers couldn't be located, sir," replied the staffer, "We have no confirmed contact with Stark, Rogers, Barton or Khan."

"Understood," nodded Wilkus, "Report that to Rausseman immediately."

He looked back outside the chopped, arms behind his back. These were mild complications - they would be dealt with shortly.

Nuremberg, 1935.

SS-Hauptsturmführer Armin Rausseman snapped to attention and saluted his superior officers. Reinhard Heydrich and the other officer returned the salute - the other man offered Rausseman his hand.

"Brigadeführer Schumann," said the man, "Heydrich tells me you have a mind for science?"

"Jawohl, Herr Brigadeführer," nodded Rausseman, "I studied genetics after the war, sir."

"Schumann," said Heydrich, "Is about to begin work on a genetics program that may be vital to the Reich in the coming war. Department Seventeen, it's called."

"How so, sir?" asked Rausseman.

"Ubersoldaten, Hauptsturmführer," replied Schumann, "With the proper medicinal procedures, we can create a soldier worth fifty of the enemy."

"Like Schmitt's program?" asked Rausseman.

Schumann sniffed and Heydrich rolled his eyes.

"The Red Skull," he spat, "Is an amateur. What we shall be doing will be art. And I'm interested in making you my deputy. What do you say?"

Rausseman saluted again.

"Jawohl!"

"Good man."

PURITY hit Fenton Works hard and fast.

Two men stormed the front door, two went in the back - two rappelled into the upstairs windows from their helicopter. Jack and Maddie Fenton were hastily secured and dragged away to act as hostages - Jazz Fenton could not be found.

Danny was in his room as they came in. A PURITY trooper burst through his window, swiftly pointing a tazer-like device at him. Before he could react, he had been zapped and was knocked out.

"Phantom is secure, repeat, Phantom is secure," the soldier reported into his radio.

"Copy - roving choppers have secured most spook contacts. Let's head in."

Outside, PURITY was systemically clearing Amity Park of ghosts. And not very far away, Dani hid in the sewer and waited for them to leave.

The Austrian Alps, November 1942.

Brigadeführer Armin Rausseman had been reborn.

Well, perhaps that was a tad dramatic. What had happened was that Armin Rausseman had been administered the ubersoldaten procedure and had therefore been brought to what Schumann called 'the height of human potential'. He was bigger, stronger, healthier - and all without the technological or chemical perversions that other organisations in the Reich had suggested.

Now came the PR circus. Party officials and army officers had come down from Berlin to rubberneck at the facility, likely to court favours from the now-popular Schuman. Locusts, the lot of them, but men that had to be entertained.

As he stood in the entrance hall of the Alpine estate, talking to some vapid Party man, he noticed Schuman walking up to him, hand extended. He took it, grinning.

"Armin, we've done a good thing here," said Schuman, "We'll be remembered for th-"

BANG.

The room descended into cacophony. Men had ascended onto the balcony, firing down at the SS guards who had been caught completely by surprise. Looking closely at them, Rausseman recognised them as British commandos.

"Morris, take out the commander!"

"Aye sir!"

Rausseman looked up. A British commando leaned over the railing of the balcony, Thompson aimed at Schuman. Rausseman could have stopped him - his hand was on the grip of his service pistol - but his eyes fell to the commando's uniform and helmet - so similar in shape and colour to the enemy of the last war, the army that had shattered his regiment. Suddenly he wasn't the pride of the Third Reich - he was a scared young artilleryman once again.

The commando fired. Schuman's body jerked in a macabre fashion, and he slumped to the floor.

The PURITY team burst into the beach house, weapons drawn. Greg Universe jumped and fell off the couch as they advanced on him, pointing their guns at his head.

"Where are the Crystal Gems?!" bellowed their sergeant.

"What?"

"Where are the Crystal Gems?!" screamed the sergeant.

"I-I-they're not here, I'm just house-sitting!" exclaimed Greg.

"Well then," said the sergeant, "You're gonna help us drawn 'em out. Reynolds?"

Another soldier nodded and slammed the butt of his rifle into Greg's face. As he slumped to the ground, the sergeant turned to his men.

"Grab the Maheswaren family and the Big Donut staff," he ordered, "We're luring them in."

The men nodded and raced out of the beach house.

Alaska, 1947.

Oberstgruppenführer Armin Rausseman was attending a meeting in a small, cold bunker room.

"The plan will be simple," said Reichsleiter Voss, pointing at the map, "We will arrange the u-boats all along the American western coast. V-3 missile strikes will destroy all Yankee defensive positions and spread nerve gas throughout the major urban centres - Hollywood will be a primary target for reasons of morale. Once the Americans are sufficiently confused and disoriented, SS troopers and naval infantry will secure the major cities on the Californian coast, destroy American capital ships and anchor and establish a base to advance inland."

The so-called Führer - a portly former Gauleiter from the Alps - nodded, a sneer crossing his ugly features. He crossed his arms.

"The operation is approved," he declared.

"May I offer a military critique of this plan?" interjected Rausseman.

The Führer turned to him, brow raised.

"Rausseman?"

"This plan is ridiculous," snapped Rausseman, "Even supposing that we can get our u-boats to within spitting distance of the United States, they would be sunk en masse by their destroyer screens. Even if they weren't, the US Army would wipe out any landing parties sent ashore, and even if that didn't happen, civilian resistance would be insurmountable. We must wait here until our forces are properly prepared..."

"By the time our forces are prepared to your standards," spat Voss, "All of us but you would be dead."

"Such are the perks of the ubersoldaten formula," admitted Rausseman, shrugging.

"Your objections are overruled," snarled the Führer, "The Reich has been sullied enough by unimaginative military minds. We will go ahead."

Rausseman shook his head.

"It's a shame it had to come to this, then."

The door flew open. Two massive, armoured men marched into the room, holding enormous machine guns at the gathered Nazi Party officials. The ordinary sentries already in the room pointed their rifles at Voss and the Führer without a word.

"What is the meaning of this?" spluttered the Führer.

"I'm afraid that I'm changing the regime...Mein Führer," replied Rausseman.

He turned to the ubersoldaten behind him.

"Gentlemen," he said, "Fire."

The sound of gunfire filled the capacity.

A minute or so later, Rausseman walked casually out of the room, flanked by his ubersoldaten.

"Nazi Germany is no more," he declared, "Henceforth, we shall be...PURITY."

"General."

Rausseman snapped out of his train of thought. A tall ubersoldaten officer in fine gold-painted armour stood before him, standing at attention.

"Captain," nodded Rausseman.

"Operation Cleansing Tide has been a success," said the captain, "But the US air defence network has come back online and we won't get an opportunity to make a second run."

"Not a problem," said Rausseman, "We won't go to them. We'll get them to come to us."

He stood up.

"Prepare a broadcast," he said, "It's time to speak to the world."

AN: Quick note - tomorrow's shot may be short. I have to visit somebody at the hospital in the evening.