19/11 2052.

SSM Dreadnought Heinrich Himmler, on route to the Moon of Torfan.

Marcus Wahler stood in the comms room of the only SS dreadnought made so far. The first of many, Heydrich had assured him. It was big, but not as big as some of the larger ones in the Kriegsmarine. A bit of a shame really, the Kriegsmarine seemed to always run off with all the glory nowadays. No matter, after today, the SS would be on the map again.

"Is everything ready?" The hologram of Heydrich asked. His figure was imposing, but the hologram form did it no justice. The man was even more terrified when you met him in real life. Not to Marcus though, interestingly enough it had no influence on him. A spine like that is something most SS officers could only dream of.

"Of course. It's touch and go from here, but you got me on the job, so that means it's all but certain." Wahler laughed. He was one of the few who could do such a thing around Heydrich, not that Heydrich ever returned a laugh.

"Just see to it. Failure is not an option here. Be cunning, be creative, but whatever you do, make it efficient and quick. I want that moon taken, and I don't need any prisoners. This is a first strike scenario, the first act of war." Heydrich preached his ideology. Marcus wasn't entirely sure how much he agreed with the man, but the fact remained: They were about as close friends as circumstances would allow it. Well, him, Heydrich and Volkert. But anyone looking from the outside wouldn't be able to see it as friendship, just another sign of the madness that dwelled within Wahler's brain.

"I have never been known to disappoint." Wahler smiled.

The Batarians were about to learn why they called him "The Mad Dog Of Burgundy."

Planetside, Moon Of Torfan.

It started off early in the morning. Most of the pirates, slavers and other types of mercs were gathering towards the ships to fly on new adventures in the traverse and terminus systems. The moon had always been a gathering point for them, outside of Omega of course. A free haven for all those outside of the jurisdiction of the citadel, where nothing was sacred, and no laws kept them down. It was unusual for this many to be there, but considering the failure of an attack that happened just a few days ago, they were regrouping here and planning their next move.

The moon was a stronghold, a rock against anyone foolish enough to attack it. At least it had been designed as such. But it had a reputation made of iron, and as such, no one had ever tried to disprove that reputation. From their fortress, they could laugh at their victim as much as they wanted. But even an iron fortress can crumble.

One of the Batarians was loading crates into a spaceship. They were bound for a far away Salarian colony that was right for the pickings. He did notice an uneasy feeling at the moon that morning, as if people were on edge. Whispers of something coming for them, something dark and horrifying. Probably just rumors, people had said the same thing when they attacked that Turian colony a few years ago.

But, as the afternoon drew closer, he looked up at the black sky, and saw something that was out of the ordinary. Flickering lights, like a battle. Curious, but not unfazed, he continued on. It was probably just a weapons test they were conducting. He could care less, he just wanted to get back out there and try out his new rifle.

But the light continued on, and within another minute, there was a general call that went out: "TAKE COVER!" it sounded against the thick metal walls. He hardly had time to think before hellfire rained down.

"Status?" Wahler asked unfazed as he ate his sandwich filled with schnitzel. The officer at the firing system watched in almost pure disgust at how Wahler devoured the sandwich like a hungry predator, resembling more a scene of a hungry child gorging itself on an afternoon meal. But he kept his peace.

"Bombing of the moon has been initiated. Looking mighty fine so far, their ground side cannons can't touch us. Another half-a-day and we should have everything covered." The officer replied, trying to keep himself straight as he had to endure the sound effects of Wahler hungrily eating his sandwich filled with schnitzel.

"Too slow, we need to speed this up!" he shouted, bits of the sandwich flying out of his mouth. "Ground assault, now!" Marcus suddenly yelled out. Most of the senior officers on the deck knew how Marcus operated, and this was nothing new. Despite the seemingly rushed order, he was usually right at the end of the day.

"Jawohl!" Several officers replied in an almost perfect union. Within minutes, SS stormtroopers were loading into landing crafts that would take them planetside. Wahler stood at the observation deck. As he finished the last bit of his sandwich filled with schnitzel, he walked down to join the fight as well. While most officers on the deck of the dreadnought certainly did not think Wahler joining the fight was a good idea, they knew better than to suggest otherwise. It was safer for him to be down there and staying in here with them.

"Everyone in your pods, double time! Last one in orbit gets a bullet to the head!" And they all knew Wahler meant it. Despite being unpredictable in almost every way, you could always count on Wahler keeping his word. So everyone hurried up to get on the shuttle as fast as bloody possible.

Wahler took a swing of his flask, kept deep in his inner pocket. He then adjusted his sunglasses, he had heard that Torfan had quite the view of the system's sun. He felt excited, like he always did before a battle. War was his forte, where he was most comfortable. It was his home.

The massive assault had taken all the pirates by surprise. Never before had such a large hostile force shown up for a fight, and especially not at their home base. The Pirates and slavers found themselves retreating further and further into the mountains of the moon. Wahler was giving them heat, much more than anyone could have predicted.

That was Wahler's secret: just how unpredictable he was. No enemy he had faced could ever foresee what he would do next. Conventional tactics, and a rational mind, seemed removed for this deranged SS officer, but that's the thing: His madness worked. It worked just as intended. There was a reason he was one of Heydrich's top dogs in the Waffen SS. A man so feared, you had better hope you never meet him on the battlefield.

"Bomb that trenchline. Give my boys some room to breathe!" He yelled into his comms, never wasting a second, he continued on. "Have the first and sixth platoon cut up through the middle, heavy fire support on the right flank! I don't want to see a single living Batarian when you're done!" Wahler ordered with a firm commanding voice. It all just came out, often so fast that his officers had a hard time to keep up. No one dared question the reason behind these tactics. Wahler watched as his orders became reality, his troops fighting with the strength of ancient warriors, but also containing the madness of the berserkers of the north. That's what everyone knows will happen when you join Wahler's army: He will break you down, and build you back up as something that he can use. No one ever came back the same, the rest of the SS considered them feral.

The Waffen SS had undergone extensive upgrading since the Reich-Hierarchy war. Everyone saw the embarrassment that was their armed forces, some divisions still running around with weapons from the second world war. Their training was piss poor, their organization was a maze and everything else that could have been wrong, was wrong. But no longer. The Waffen SS was now a capable fighting force. Fanatical yes, but capable.

Fighters flew overhead, their roaring engines deafening everything else as they dropped their payloads, scores of pirates blew up, limbs flying everywhere as Torfan became red. The Waffen SS advanced, it's soldiers killed everything in their path. Wahler looked on in enjoyment as his savage horde scorched the earth.

"Where the fuck is my coffee? I ordered that shit five minutes ago!" Wahler demanded to know. His officers all scrambled to get it to the man as soon as possible. When it finally got to him, he tasted a very cold coffee. In that instance, he spat it out, and pulled out his gun. He shot one of his higher ranking officers straight in the head. "Hot coffee! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS! Get fucking to it!" He threw his coffee cup at the nearest officer, who quickly picked it up.

He looked through his binoculars to see the enemy retreating. "Status. Talk to me boys." He ordered into his comms, eagerly awaiting a response from them. He had his answer within the second.

"Enemy is retreating into bunkers, Sir." The comms replied, Wahler could hear the uneasy feeling on the other end of the comms.

"Prep the demolition squad. I want that bunker opened and every single pirate dragged out on its scaly green ass." Wahler ordered.

"Jawohl Herr Gruppenführer!"

Brutal, efficient, cunning, some would dare call him a strategic mastermind in some regards. Yet whether it is praise or insults being thrown his way, the SS could agree upon one thing when speaking of Gruppenführer Markus Wahler.

"He's batshit fucking insane, if you shall excuse my french gentlemen." Volkert commented at the dinner table alongside his fellow SS commandants.

"He gets the job done." Heydrich intervened, sitting at the head of the table. "And that's all he needs to do."

Across from them sat a fur-coated middle aged man, beard rough and unkept, long since beginning to gray. Though he had thrown away his fur coat at the exit, the uniform resembled neither that of Volkert's nor Heydrich's. Indeed, this man was very out-of-place sandwiched between his more sharply-dressed colleagues.

"Indeed." Volkert replied simply, he had learned a long time ago not to question Heydrich on his choice of companion. The two seemed to share an almost supernatural understanding, and he had never seen any other man get away with the things that baboon Wahler had, especially in front of Mr. Grim Reaper himself. "So anyways, Herr Schulberg, can we count on your support in the coming days regarding this matter?"

Schulberg snorted and spit a small ball of spit on the floor. "Fine." Schulberg was also a man sometimes hard to read, his IQ spelled him as a certified genius, but if you asked Volkert it seldom went past room temperature in his eyes. How a man so bestial and wild such as him could even be deemed close to Aryan was beyond him. Still, Schulberg had many written mathematical essays and papers under his belt, no one could rob him of that. "So… How do we deal with the slimy bastard then?"

"Accordingly." Heydrich cut out Volkert's stream of thought and the meal continued in silence. There was very little left to discuss, save for the matter of succession.

Yet something told Volkert that question had been answered long ago.

A few more hours had passed since the pirates had retreated inside their little bunker complex. Wahler's engineers had been hard at work rigging up the ventilation system and realized toxic gas into the vents. Soon enough, the entire bunker had become a dutch oven.

His other soldiers had captured those who had not made it to the bunker in time, stripped them of their boots and set them to work digging a massive trench. Wahler watched with a content smile as the battle was coming to a close, he had achieved what he set out to do, and he had to admit, Volkert's toys had made it easier… But also funnier. Watching the mechs fight for them, watching the mechanical hounds rip Batarians to shred were scenes not lost on him.

By early evening, the doors to the bunker opened. Out came the pirates, gasping for air. Seems like they had tried to ration their gas masks and helmets, tried to conserve the air… But those who were not part of the privileged few rebelled, disorder put down only made Wahler's job easier. The ones who escaped the bunker's hell only wandered into a new one. They were in no shape to fight the SS when they confronted them outside the bunker's gate. They were rounded up and forced to walk the five miles to the trench.

They must have realized they were herded like sheep to the slaughter. Maybe some of them didn't quite realize what would happen, maybe they thought they were simply sent off to camps… But in comparison, this was mercy. They just didn't know it. Maybe they finally realized what would happen when they saw their comrades digging a trench with their name on it.

"Let's get to work boys. I wanna be back on the ship for dinner!" Wahler ordered from his chair as he watched over his soldiers shooting them systematically. Headshot after headshot they fell into the dark trench below. The bodies piling up, a lot of them tried to run, tried to fight back. All of them failed in the end. Wahler smiled as he thought about the possibility of doing this to an entire planet, their home planet. It would burn, Heydrich demanded it.

When they had killed off the last ones, a rough headcount said at least 50.000 pirates had lost their lives that night, and Wahler knew no one would lose sleep over it. Well, except the Batarians who knew what was coming next. The Reich's wrath would scorch them all.

"Update." The hologram of Heydrich demanded.

"Situation… Contained. It's done my friend. Easy peasy Japanesey." Wahler reported with a smile, his eyes would have been lit up like a thousand stars, had they not been hidden behind a pair of aviators.

"Good. Clean up and report back."

"HEIL GERMANIA!"

"Gottfried…" the Fuhrer called to his friend as he sat upon the armchair facing the unlit fireplace. A glass of alcohol in his hand with some form of liquid the Reichsmarshall did not know of, he already had it when he came in. Ulfric's voice was calm, too calm. He knew all too well of what was coming.

He sighed. "I suppose you read the reports as well."

"I have."

"Casualties report up to fifty thousand and more." he took another glance at the bottle Ulfric was swirling about. "The SS have been tight-lipped about how much of that number included theirs however."

Downing the glass of liquor Ulfric stood up slowly from the chair. It didn't take a blind man to realize that his old age was getting to him, his legs began shaking every time he started doing something other than standing or sitting. The thought that soon enough his old friend would begin having to use a cane to walk around disturbed him for some reason. While always the more athletic of the two, Gottfried could never deny that Ulfric always tried to keep some notion of youthful spryness in his step when walking around on official business, especially knowing of the age his predecessors had all been chosen.

"Gottfried, I shall ask you this only once, and I expect you to tell me honestly." Ulfric began. "How many of our men knew of this operation."

He thought for a moment on the ramifications of that question. Perhaps the Reich's high command was not some tight knit group of brothers-in-arms, in truth there was very little love lost between Kürger and his fellow colleagues, but there was always some form of unspoken trust that Ulfric confined within them. That he would even ask such a thing did not bode well for what was to come.

"As far as I know, no one."

"No one?"

"Yes."

Those tired and beady, bloodshot eyes, stared at Gottfried, he could see it in his pupils that the Führer already had too much to drink. Yet he accepted the answer regardless of the doubt shown.

"How many years has it been since you forced me to be here Gottfried?" Ulfric asked suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Don't pretend, we aren't both senile yet. It was your men who put me in this position, no one gave a shit about the opinions of those pencil pushers down in the Reichstag, no one has for over a century now."

Again Gottfried thought on it, he was even more hesitant to answer at this point. Whatever warnings there were before, it was practically clear now of the disaster they were heading towards. "Twenty seven." he answered simply. "Twenty seven years and counting."

"Yes. Over a quarter of a century. Yet so much longer to go until we achieve our dream." Ulfric looked out the window of the office, overlooking the lamp-shaded streets of Germania atop the megastructure within which they presided. "The dream of a Reich to last a Thousand Years." The beige suit he had always adorned never quite came along with the decor of the office, making the Führer stand out, yet in some ways, like many of the things Ulfric did, that was intentional. It made him stand out, easier to notice, hard to not notice. "Everything I have done in these twenty seven years has been in service to that dream Gottfried, even before I had become Führer. Throughout it all I know that our time these past two and a half decades have not been wasted one bit."

"They certainly have not." he thought back on all of the mad bullshit and hoops the two had to jump through to keep this wild machine going, to keep all of the cogs in place, everything oiled and ready to go at a moment's notice. "Though the discovery of fucking aliens sure did put a dent in our plans a bit didn't it?"

"I suppose it did." Ulfric chuckled for a moment. "And yet… there are times in which I lie in my bed at night. I can't sleep, and so I get up and do my work as expected of me, and I'm reminded of just how much I can do with a simple stroke of a pen." Once more he turned to face the Reich Marshal, a sincere yet worrying smile on his face. "In but a second I could write down a series of names on a sheet of paper, names of people whose faces I never even need to see, and just like that," he snapped his fingers. "They would be gone."

"Ulfric…"

"I command the greatest army known to mankind, an army that has taken over half a globe and more, an army that single-handedly bested an alien force twice our size and doubled our knowledge in all things we could ever even hope to achieve in a simple lifespan. Upon my fingertips lies the future of the Reich, the lives of several billion people all ready to fight and die at my will." at this point the conversation had died, turning itself into an abnormal monologue of depravity right before Gottfried's eyes.

"Settle down." he tried to speak some reason, but any words coming out of his mouth were long since decidedly ignored.

"At a snap of my fingertips, Gottfried." he motioned once more, stopping his two index fingers at the tips. "I could have you and the Wehrmacht declare Total War on the Council… and wipe us all out."

"Ulfric, I'm saying this to you right now. Do not be going down this road." he knew that it was just the alcohol talking, yet it didn't stop him from being disturbed at this side of him.

"And yet." Once more he was ignored, but this time for an entirely different reason. Ulfric stopped his mad smile for a moment, looking down upon his old and withered hands. "Every night, I go back to bed, and think of this side of me. The side that desires nothing but to let loose and burn this all down for one last baptism of greatness. And every night, I have to kill that side of me. Bury it deep down so it never rears its ugly head. So that I can continue this dream we have sacrificed so much for."

Silence permeated between the two. There was not much he could say after that. Instinct told him to just laugh it all off, empathy said to not go past that road right now. After a few more brief moments of silence Gottfried finally responded, "In retrospect, I suppose I never gave much thought to how this all affected you, huh?"

"No. I suppose you didn't." quickly Ulfric's composure was restored, it seemed his mad little monologue sobered the Fuhrer up a little. "Come on, I believe the residents of the Galaxy will want to hear what we have to say of this little fiasco."

20/11 2052.

Outside the White House, Reichsland Nordamerika.

It was still daytime in Nordamerika. but the sun did little to generate heat on his cold afternoon in Washington DC. Jane watched her brother stand proudly in his Marine Uniform. Not letting the cold set it's mark on him. Jane always looked up to him, and in that moment, she knew that one day, she wanted to stand there as well.

"It is not often that a man defeats overwhelming odds that have clearly been stacked against him. It is not often a nation, or an alliance, bears witness to bravery, courage, valor and duty like Corporal John Shepard showed while facing down the advancing alien menace that day. The Colony of Küsgarten still stands today, because Johnathan took up arms and fought, even while all seemed hopeless. It is men like Shepard who showcase our worth to the world, and to Germania." The president took a break as he looked over the crowd gathered there that day, he shot a quick glance at Shepard, still standing like a soldier. "We must honor these people, which is why I now call upon you Shepard. Step forward." Lucky Luke ordered, and John happily did as requested.

Jane watched in Awe as another Marine came up and produced from a gold plated chest a medal, not just any medal… The Medal of Honor. The highest medal the country could give. She watched as the president hung the medal around John's neck, it looked right on him. Like it belonged there. John smiled as he shook the hand of the resident. A bandage was still visible on his hand. It wasn't clear to Jane if John had truly recovered from what happened on that colony, but he appeared fine, perhaps even normal.

She was the first to clap, leading the roaring applause that the massive crowd could give. John smiled and waved. Before the crowd could go quiet, another person walked on stage. Someone Jane did not know, but he carried himself like he was important. The man walked up to the podium, and tapped the microphone a few times.

"Corporal Johnathan Shepard, your bravery has not just impressed your own nation, but has been warmly welcomed in the Reich. I come bearing good news, our Führer, Ulfric Kuhn, has just sent me this order. To present you with the highest honor we could reward someone of your stature. To be considered honorary Aryan." Everyone was over the moon with this news, even John could not believe his own ears. It was like all of his dreams were coming true at the same time. All he did was hold the line, making sure the pirates never got past him… And yet now, the world was at his feet. He was now at the same level as the Germans, had the same rights… He could even serve in the Kriegsmarine proper.

His world had opened up. The Führer himself had opened the door for him. He had been thinking about quitting the military after what happened, still seeing his friends' faces… But now? Now, he was granted an opportunity that few Americans were ever given. He simply couldn't turn it down.

He shook the Ambassador's hand as firmly as he could. And Jane was still in shock as she witnessed all of it happening.

21/11 2052.

Volkshalle, Germania, Greater German Reich.

"My fellow Germans!" Ulfric's voice was not what it had been years prior, but it still carried great weight across the world. Everyone was listening in at this moment. "For too long, the Reich has tolerated the injustice in Space. The recent attacks on German colonies prove that the Batarians view us as nothing but a weak target, right for the pickings!" He watched as people were cheering him on. It made him realize he still had it.

"They believe our place in the Galaxy is fragile, that it can be shaken loose with raids and attacks! No longer! We tried friendship! We tried being diplomatic, and yet every time they spat it right back into our faces!" Judging by the deafening sounds of cheering, it felt as though the entire world was agreeing with him.

"One hour ago, we officially sent a declaration of war to the Batarian hegemony. Our troops are already conducting acts of war as we speak. I assure all of you, we will not rest until we stand at their door, and have boots on their soil! Germany will not be bullied into submission. Today marks the day when they realize the Wehrmacht bows to no one! TODAY WE SHOW THEM THE MIGHT OF THE GERMAN REICH!"

The largest wave of cheers ever heard came to pass, and after that, only one thing could be heard across the Einheitspakt.

HEIL GERMANIA.