Recently, in response to the God Emperor of Europe's threats to Saudi Arabia, the United Nations has decided to convene a meeting suggesting military action against the United Kingdom until it capitulates in the hopes they can once again bring back the Multicultural government. That was what Arthur Luther Pierce was seeing on the TV, with none other than Vought's very finest news anchor, Cameron Coleman, reading that announcement off of the teleprompter. He was in front of the television, six o' clock in the morning, formulating a plan while eating his bacon and eggs. Originally, he was going to have a hitman kill Coleman, two .45 bullets to the back of the head, a suicide note placed at the scene of his death to throw off the police and Vought investigators. The UN was a far more pressing matter to attend to.
While it was generally a toothless, humanitarian organization, they could still do some real damage to Pierce's plans, seeing as how they represented the third world, thus giving Germany and other countries an endless supply of troops to throw at the UK until its soldiers finally ran out of ammunition. Kill to death ratios did not matter in a military conflict. Supply did. At least when in a defensive war. His new ethnostate did not yet have the industry to produce the millions of rounds of ammunition to hold off endless third world armies, brought in from India and Africa to swamp the UK.
His son would more than likely be able to kill a great deal of them; however, he was just one man in the end, who could not be everywhere at once. Plus, sustained nuclear bombardment could wear him down. The telekinetic regeneration the progenitor serum grants its subjects was not fast enough to repair injuries to be of any use during combat. Rather, it had a much greater ability to heal. It was like Gecko's healing ability, but working over months or years to regrow lost tissue, limbs, and organs, reforming them at the molecular level psychically. Did not matter when all the energy that powers the telekinetic shielding, super strength, and flight went into powering the regenerative healing factor to restore missing tissues. A soldier with a .22 handgun could execute him while he was in a coma
Given that the soldiers sent out to fight him would be nothing more than incompetent morons from third-world countries, they would not have the first goddamn idea of what a combined arms strategy was. Even Israel was able to utilize such tactics. Pierce had known that from personal experience, too.
"In light of the God Emperor of Europe's bluster, the United Nations has refused to give into his demands, opting to instead form a global defense agency to fight against what many are calling 'the second coming of Hitler," announced Coleman jubilantly. "This will combine the world's military budget into one, so that the development of smaller scale, anti-super weaponry could be developed and fired upon him at a moment's notice with minimal casualties to civilians."
Both the Israelis and Soviet's tried to find smaller scale weapons in order to properly injure Arthur back in the day. All attempts at trying to crack smaller scale nuclear weapons were fraught with complete failure. The only thing that could even harm him was the immense heat of a nuclear explosion's epicenter, or a nuclear fusion reactor. Firstly, the engineering difficulties alone would be borderline insurmountable, as missiles were generally designed to hit large targets, about the size of tanks and fighter aircraft, two things way larger than a supe. Secondly, there were massive political ramifications. No country was going to risk poisoning their own land just to stop one man with powers.
However, Arthur was going to do whatever he could to hamstring wherever and whenever they tried to stop him behind the scenes. Already, he was feverishly jotting down notes on post-its for a list of things that he could use to torpedo the whole UN attempt at forming a global organization. It was in New York after all.
"6,000 kilograms of Semtex, 600 rounds of 7.62x51mm NATO HP for the operators, three FN FAL battle rifles (silenced), two hundred pounds of blasting caps, an office supplies truck, and three operators," he said to himself, writing it down.
It was time to use Tor Browser. Thus, upon finishing his breakfast, Arthur had gotten up, walked up to his gaming room, and took a seat on his top-of-the-line gaming chair. On his desk, he had already replaced his microphone with a Logitech, not realizing he had pulped A-Train's leg with a limited-edition Razor headset days earlier.
Arthur pressed the power button on top of his PC tower, immediately after plugging his headset into the USB port at the top of the computer case. Speaking of which, it was a case made specifically for him, designed to his specifications. It was a burgundy, blue, and white tower, with the thunderbolt of the British Union of Fascists in the very center. There were no disk drives. Its operating system was installed via the same way his headphones were plugged in, USB thumb drives. Arthur was sure to pick out all of the parts for his PC as well, making sure that every component was the best in the current year, as money was no object to a man such as he.
The screen blinked to life immediately with the desktop background he selected, an image of the Roman Legionnaires sacking Jerusalem, carrying a large golden menorah out of a Jewish Temple as one of their spoils of war on screen. In the background, the city was in flames, in the process of being razed to the ground by the invading Roman army during the Bar Kohkba revolt. Arthur chose this picture as a reminder of how weak his enemies were, of what a few normal White men could do to the Jewish people with nothing but their personal weapons if they organized. Beneath those men were the corpses of the people who meekly perished defending it from the might and majesty that was Western Civilization's first great empire. Those were some of the rare examples of Judea's inhabitance fighting bravely. Many of them simply died by their own hand, knowing that defeat was all but assured, and their subjugation and enslavement at the hands of people they deemed to be cattle a foregone conclusion.
Moving the cursor over to the onion-shaped Tor logo, Arthur gently clicked it twice, waiting for the site to load to the browser. Once loaded in, he minimized Tor, went to a notepad file titled 'links", copied the link down, and tapped the enter key.
The browser almost immediately went directly to a website called 24Chan, a dark net website that was known as a meeting ground for White Nationalist terrorist groups. He started a thread titled Operation Wrench, which was to throw a wrench in the plans of the UN. There, he hastily typed the equipment he wrote down on pen and paper earlier, the location of the attack, and the coordinates where he was going to stash the weapons he intended on stealing from a Third World Country's armory, like South Africa. He instructed the cell to go there the next day, after he placed the cache of weaponry.
Jason Archer was watching his computer screen intently within the confines of his mother's basement, looking for anything his right-wing Discord group could do. He was on a site called 24Chan, located in the mysterious dark net, intent on browsing the controversial /pol/ board of the site, one of the gatherings where the terrorists who helped the God Emperor take over all of the United Kingdom. It was that same place Jason Archer was communicating and training hard for the past five years, with Brenton Harrison Tarrant as his inspiration. Jason was looking to plan something of his very own, and the thread proposing an attack on the United Nations building a dozen kilometers from where he lived was an interesting plan to follow.
On the thread's original post, there were coordinates that led straight out of the city of New York and into the woods of Rochester, conveniently away from the prying eyes of Homelander and the beams of death that come forth. There, he and his friends will find six metric tons of Semtex, two hundred blasting caps, three FN Herstal FAL assault rifles, 600 rounds of 7.62x51mm hollowpoint ammunition, and lastly, a stolen office supplies truck to load the explosive payload into the freight bay of the United Nations. From there, he and his cell can walk a block away and detonate the payload from one of the nearby rooftops. There was only one problem.
The Seven would need to be baited for enough time to take out the security around the freight bay and detonate the explosives. Security was up the ass at the UN building; thus, a plan of attack that would send the Seven on a wild goose chase, just long enough, to detonate the payload and escape, would be needed if their mission was to have any hope of succeeding. Homelander constantly patrols New York's skies, watching the ground like a hawk with his telescopic X-ray vision. Then there was the NYPD. That was a simpler matter of spreading them thin with phony bomb threats made on social media. Vought's supers might get easily distracted as well, while him and his operators make a move on the UN. They were, after all, known as incompetent, undisciplined dipshits
While Jason's anticipation was palpable, if he succeeded, he would have crippled the International Community and tanked Vought's stock all in one operation, two birds with one stone, as he reckoned their share price would never recover from a blunder of this magnitude. Vought would also be crippled and their superheroes unemployed if he succeeded with this, thwarted by mere mortals.
One of the problems, however, was that these weapon's shipments were around a few days away. It meant one thing: the God Emperor of Europe was going to deliver a terrorist cell weapons in order to bring down the UN before it could mount a full-on invasion of the UK from the South and the North. Hopeless, at first glance. History told a different story. All it took was one event happening that resulted in a cascading effect that completely derailed an opponent's plans. The Huns, for instance, would have wiped Europe off the map if it wasn't for the fact their leader died, same with the Mongols. All it took was a monkey wrench, and that proverbial monkey wrench was going to be the bombing of the UN building while everyone was discussing the plan of action against the UK.
Even worse for them, it would not just cripple the international community, it would also cripple many Western countries in one fell swoop. That was the genius of this plan. It killed more than a dozen birds with one stone. The best laid operations had a vital organ that, when destroyed, effectively crippled it before it could even take off from the ground. If a guerrilla fighter took out a commander of an army with a sniper rifle, that army scattered in the case of the US command structure. That rang true with the international community about striking the heart, the UN, with one simple terrorist attack, something they would not even suspect or even prepare for. High value targets were always the main focus, unlike the mentally defective, dysgenic Stormchasers who went for low value targets, such as random minorities in supermarkets.
Now with those things in mind, it was time to wait for the next three days until the original poster, abbreviated as OP, delivers on his weapon's cache he will be looting from some South African armory down south, in no man's land. The only way one man can raid an armory half way across the world and steal several metric tons of explosives would be if he was a supe, and a really powerful one like Homelander or Stormfront. Military weapons, such as armor-piercing, self-discarding sabots had a habit of penetrating through even the toughest of materials, including the hides of most superheroes. Dense, sharp darts did that when shot out at hypersonic speeds. In fact, Russian railguns were speculated as having the power to literally skewer Homelander with the penetration power of their naval railgun, with an estimated penetration of 1000mm of rolled steel. Nothing was stopping that.
Halfway across the country, Arthur Luther Pierce was already suited up, heading straight to South Africa to raid a military base in order to supply the operators in New York. Countries, states, and landmarks were but blurs when he was in flight. Then it was dark, in a vacuum full of bright lights radiating off in the vast distances that was interstellar space. He could see the Earth as he was holding his breath, seeing the countries of the world all lit up except for the third-world hellscapes he was intent on destroying. Part of him wondered if he could just use his immense flight speed and let physics decide the rest, like what happens when a hunk of metal fired out of a gun did the job.
The planet was outlined in blue as the sun's rays reflected off the atmospheric gasses held in place by the gravity, its magnetic field protecting all surface-dwelling life from its harmful ultraviolet radiation constantly bombarding it. He could see Europe and Africa from the outline of the city lights. It was already night time on that side of the planet, while it was noon that day in Portland thanks to the rotational period of both the sun and the moon. Quite impressive how the inventions of his civilization could light the planet so brightly that aliens several light years away could see that this planet had life on it thanks to infrared signatures astronomers look for.
Yuri Gagarin was not the first man in space, Arthur was, having been in space many times just by flying in a straight line at over ten times that of escape velocity. He had been to space many times since before WWII even broke out. Why, he was even on Mars before probes were sent there. He watched television that day, only to watch the world feel the same disappointment he did, that the solar system, with the exception that rotated before his eyes, was just a collection of barren wastelands and gas giants. Nothing more.
He dove back down into the atmosphere, aware that he would die in minutes without any form of oxygen supply. Telekinetic resistances only protected him from physical, thermal, and radiological harm, not from asphyxiation due to lack of oxygen.
He looked for something above that looked like a military base until he found it, away from any prying eyes who might photograph him killing a bunch of South African soldiers. That would really put a lot of heat on Pierce Enterprises, and that was just something he did not want right now, with the possibility of WWIII breaking out and what not. Losing his corporation to Jewish-controlled, American law enforcement was not something on Arthur's to-do list.
Thus, he began his attack, one kilometer away, outside of the soldiers' visual range. The entire base was a ramshackle mess of sheet metal and plywood, hastily cobbled together. The only things that gave it the appearance of a military base was the two hundred square meters of chain-linked, barb-wired fencing to deter break ins from the plebs. Everything else, from the garage and the singular aircraft hangar was made from a mix of plywood and rusted sheet metal. Even the barracks was a box made of rotting plywood. It was a glorified fort only a few steps more sophisticated than what a child would make in their leisure time.
As for vehicles, they had an M26 Pershing, and an F4U Corsair, so obsolete that the South African military could not fight a modern military, let alone a b-lister from Vought. Why, he could even destroy that old main battle tank with a hit from an M72 Light Anti-Armor Weapon, let alone his analogue to Homelander's heat vision. WWII weaponry was the hallmark of a third-world nation, as the simple design of the technology was easier for a dumber, less educated person to maintain, meaning they need foreigners to maintain modern weapons.
Seeing a soldier clad in green fatigues and a FN FAL assault rifle, Captain Albion rushed him before he could react. His powerful punch cut straight through his ribcage and through his spinal cord, causing a massive amount of blood and bone fragments to jet out the back of his body like a geyser. The soldier fell to the ground once Captain Albion pulled back his blood and viscera-covered leather gloved fist, dead before he could process what happened.
In response, soldiers from all corners of where Captain Albion stood, fired on Arthur. Bullets bounced off of his skin, eyes and costume uselessly. Captain Albion's emerald green eyes turned a glowing, reddish white in hue, with smoke jetting out the sides.
Two beams of superheated plasma cut down a whole squad of soldier's just as they were reloading their weapons. They fell to the ground, smoldering mutilated heaps in a dense fog of black smoke.
One missile, fired out of an ancient bazooka, had struck him right in his left eye, exploding against it. The shaped charge of superheated metal that was rated to penetrate the armor of a tank in WWII blinded that eye for a brief moment, causing blurred vision for a second. It burned like scalding hot water shot at his eyes from a water pistol at close range. He would surely have a black eye later. Of course, he could say one of his hookers punched him in the face if Maeve asked.
Snarling, Arthur turned to the man who shot him with a Bazooka, noticing he was a white man. He took a deep breath, a sigh, and cut him down with another optical blast of relativistic air particles, leaving a smoldering mutilated heap obscured by black smoke. Another squad was killed when Arthur flew into them at supersonic speed, reducing them to a large, chunky bloodstain on the small tarmac of the base and on the ramshackle hanger. No witnesses.
The last squad was finished when two high energy beams of superheated plasma cut them down, leaving a large smoldering heap of mutilated corpses.
With his optical beams, Arthur wrote down 'Homelander was here!' with the idea of pinning this crime on Homelander and Vought itself to keep it too distracted to deal with the terrorists he's cajoling to bomb the UN building in two days. No doubt, they have plans of their own to distract the Seven; however, that was plan A. This, however, was plan B. At any rate, he was preserving the future of his civilization against world powers that would have it destroyed and his people enslaved and exterminated by a group of oriental parasites who oozed their way into the West sometime before the fall of Rome. What he was doing was a necessary evil for his survival, so that Western Civilization can survive past the 21st century.
After he was finished etching the 'Homelander was here!' message into the tarmac, he took a few seconds to admire the complexity of his frame job. Arthur always wanted to knock that smug asshole down a peg or two, and framing him for terrorism would more than certainly do just that. His message was written perfectly, each letter completed with machined mathematical precision as if cut into the tarmac by an industrial, robotic laser used for slicing metal. At first glance, it would match Homelander's concentrated X-rays that he called heat vision. Until someone waved a Geiger counter over it, that is. Investigators, since a lot of law enforcement decided to be more diverse and inclusive, were too incompetent to even think of it. Most of them were clock watchers, which worked in Arthur's favor.
After admiring his handiwork, Arthur made his way to the supply depot in front of him, in the hopes that he could snag a few FN FAL assault rifles, some hollowpoint ammunition, and around a few hundred blasting caps. He was looking for 7.62x51mm assault rifles, six metric tons of Semtex, and roughly six hundred rounds of ammunition, enough that each operator has ten magazines of ammo, one in the gun and ten on backup, ideally.
Using his penetra vision, he made the ply wood surface of the depot's walls permeable by electromagnetic radiation. Thus, the light inside of the building would reflect off of his retinas so he could see what was inside of it perfectly, like looking through a completely transparent piece of glass. Inside, he could see several ammunition cannisters loaded with 7.62x51mm FMJ NATO rounds, a few FAL assault rifles, two hundred blasting caps, and over a hundred metric tons of C4 explosives, poorly secured.
The C4 explosives were stacked over twenty feet high, each one of them a light brown stick of putty used for precision demolitions operations in the military. There were enough explosives there to completely level a couple of city blocks in New York city, and they secured it in what amounted to a glorified shack. It boggled Arthur's mind the sheer reality-shattering stupidity of his enemies. Normal humans could have walked in, loaded it onto a semi-truck, and sold it off to South African terrorists. There it was, sitting there, in a store room made of plywood boards no thicker than half a man's thumbnail.
First, he grabbed the explosives, loading it on palettes and transporting it to those coordinates in around sixty seconds time, under the cover of night. Then he moved the blasting caps. Then the weapons and ammo, which he stored in an empty plastic, chemical drum found in the depot. He grabbed the blasting caps from the depot. Lastly, he stole an office supplies truck from a local legal firm in Johannesburg, quickly enough that no camera or human eye could track him. It all went according to plan, for the time being.