Ahead of schedule, the infrastructure woes of the United Kingdom were fixed completely. It turned out that when one threw everyone technologically savvy at an engineering problem, the problem was solved rather quickly. Power across the country was restored five months ahead of schedule, despite the tremendous damage done to every single power substation outside of the major cities. Surprisingly, there were several intact power substation components in many of the local warehouses, conveniently stored there by Pierce Enterprises for just that occasion. Almost as if the whole takeover of the United Kingdom was a planned event, not an organic revolt headed by a mysterious British supe who resembled Augustus Caeser.
It would seem he had the almost reality-bending luck that Augustus Caeser had been gifted with, too, as well as his near-Earth shattering powers. Nolan's powers were gifted to him on a genetic level as a result of his father fucking some random female superheroine, who was supposedly the secret, superpowered daughter of the centuries-dead revolutionary General, George Washington. His powers and overall vaguely Nordic features were not the result of his mother's genetics, but the ability of the serum his father was injected with to edit the DNA for only advantageous traits, while editing out disadvantageous traits from both parents, sort of like CRISPR, but with a thousand times more finesse. While he was granted his father's telekinesis-based power set, Nolan Pierce also inherited most of his father's phenotype, although with some vestigial Southern European traits of his mother. That was what made him strongly resemble a millennia dead Roman Emperor.
Up above London, Nolan was watching his expansive empire being built for him by the people he had chosen to populate it, White Europeans, to serve as his subjects like a true king of old. While the farm lands in the country side were fertilized with decaying corpses, he had his own ambitions down South, outside of Europe. That was the Middle East, a country with enough oil to supply the world alone for up to a century, all Britain's for the taking in his mind. He reckoned they will surrender to his rule once a few of their priceless, multi-million-dollar war assets got erased with his immense might. The semitic peoples, from his experience, were capitulant cowards who surrendered unconditionally at the first sign of defeat. All he needed to do was demoralize them enough.
He ruled the country with an iron fist, but it was so efficiently run that he could basically leave the government on auto-pilot and go about whenever he wished. The ruined buildings were already quickly being rebuilt within months of their destruction. Many destroyed apartment complexes that once housed hundreds of migrant families were quickly being restored by the work crews, older teenagers fresh out of high school, tasked with rebuilding ruined structures as part of their two-year stint in military service. During peacetime, that is. When there was a war, they went directly on to the frontlines with a rifle in their hands, giving battle in their God Emperor's name.
Everything was rebuilt so quickly for two reasons. One, there was no bloated bureaucracy waiting to approve the construction. Two, it was constructed in shifts, with day workers sleeping in sound proof rooms while night shift workers slept in those same buildings, each group of construction workers working twelve hours a day. This ensured that not a single, potential man hour was wasted on other frivolous things. Besides, these workers were richly rewarded with higher education if IQ testing proved they were worth the expense of even educating past high school. Low to average IQ citizens went straight to menial work, managing the farms, firefighting, or straight to the meat grinder that was the military. High IQ citizens in war time went directly to officer's training, as a high cognitive ability would imply a good tactical, strategic savvy.
Yes, the United Kingdom was as efficiently managed as it was ruthless, unchained by the various moral qualms that regular Western Civilization has been held slave to for far too long in Nolan's mind. The potential of this country was greater now than any country on Earth, thanks in part to its eugenics policies.
While the other countries wished to breed the perfect consumer, this country now wished to breed greatness into its people. It was not as if it was done by the Germans in WWII. The Greeks and the Romans have long practiced eugenics since before the time of Saul of Tarsus, when the Roman Empire became a dumping ground for the other province's trash.
Already, his country was rebuilt in almost record time thanks to his brilliant management of its economy, while the nations outside of England would have struggled for months to so much as repave the roads. The roads were already repaved, cleared of potholes left by fragmentation grenades, and most of the cities were almost back in tip-top shape. Its streets were also much cleaner, too, free of all of the human excrement and urine that covered the streets of most major cities, no thanks to the third worlders using the streets as their bathrooms and garbage dumps. London was never known to be this clean or safe in its thousand-year history. All it took was one of the strong men rising from the ashes of near societal collapse to restore it to its former glory, the man flying above, watching his country rebuild itself in his own ideals before his very eyes.
He could just picture it: nuclear fusion reactors instead of the coal plants left-wing regulators were looking to tax hardworking, blue-collar Englishman over, providing the country with virtually limitless, cheap energy until the sun finally died. Vertical farms would replace standard agricultural food production, allowing the country to effectively sustain billions of people on such a small space inside of a gigantic city covering the whole country. Billions of quality, white, gentile, Englishmen, that is. Nolan could envision the perfect utopian society, only possible with a people gifted of keen intellect to create such a fine empire. This was an empire that would last until the sun itself stopped burning in the night sky, and the universe once again regressed to a lifeless state within the next billion years.
Ironically, he might actually live to see that very end itself.
The Emperor of Europe was looking to ensure that, sometime in the future, Western Civilization remained the only civilization on the planet, all of its other competitors crushed under his mighty heel, as was the very natural order of things. Nolan intended to vassalize all of the other territories of Europe, ensuring that they will contribute manpower to his wars, or simply leave them to drown in the ever-rising tide of the third world invasions. With the now above-replacement birth rate of the United Kingdom alone, he was more than capable of getting the manpower necessary for such a massive invasion of the Middle East and Africa; however, it would take at least forty years. And it would be a very tumultuous forty years of fighting, both its own people and the massive populations of the third world all over the forsaken planet for some of the last habitable, unpolluted land left in the world.
"Yes, this world may very well soon be within the next century. An all European, all Western world. But what to call this potential era of history? Pax Europa has a nice ring to it," smiled Nolan Pierce, eyes glowing a menacing red while looking toward the southern hemisphere.
Across the pond, the Seven were sat around the corporate logo-shaped table in silent horror at what was happening in Europe. They were watching the TV screens, taking in the fact that the UK was now under total fascist rule by a super terrorist powerful enough to easily reduce cities to glass parking lots on a whim. Powerful as they were, they had never before seen an individual, Homelander excluded, that was essentially a walking, flying, intercontinental ballistic missile of sheer destructive potential. Homelander sat there, eyes focused on the television, having never heard of a person whose power level matched his, let alone potentially surpassed his when the God Emperor of Europe effortlessly destroyed the U.S.S Obama a few months ago. There he was on the news report, giving speeches to his subjects about how he was going to fix the damage he caused, blaming it on Britain's now extinct Muslim population that died off as a result of famines he was the architect of.
On the screen, the God Emperor of Europe was a somewhat handsome man of about six feet, five inches tall and heavily muscled. Unlike Homelander, his costume was not exaggerating his musculature at all, his bicep and tricep muscles combined were so large that one could literally fit their head in them. Best of all, the Master of Europe's costume was not in the least bit designed to be revealing whatsoever, made of cheap canvas, leather padding that took the form of a cuirass like piece of armor that strongly resembled the suits worn in ancient Greece. His cape was red mostly, with a blue and white circle in the center. Inside of that circle was the thunderbolt of the British Union of Fascists.
"Who the fuck are the British Union of Fascists," asked Homelander, turning his head side to side, nervously wondering if anyone knows who they were.
"I might know who they are," answered Stormfront with an anxious, exasperated look on her face.
For a left-wing, feminist liberal, Stormfront knew a disturbing amount of information regarding the various Nazi-like organizations in Western society, dating all the way back to the 1930s, before the Nazis themselves were even a thing. It was suspicious as all hell. The fact she had not even gave a shit when A-Train was maimed by a falling comet, then tortured by a White hobo, was even more suspicious than that. However, these insights she provided the team were quite valuable. Everyone else in the room cringed a bit that she even knew who or what they were. Only no-life internet Nazis tended to know those answers.
"They were a group of English aristocrats who did not like the fact the Jews were gaining too much power during the Great Depression. Scared of being dethroned, they tried to rally the poor, blue collar classes of the English population to their cause. They were basically a group of thugs who went about beating up communists, Jewish people, and Romani people. Some of them were beaten so badly that their heads were reduced to what some would describe as chunky salsa. These people literally invented the curb stomp, where someone's mouth was opened, placed on a curb, and kicked at the back, snapping the victim's neck, breaking his/her jaw, and shattering all of his/her teeth. They wanted to overthrow the British government to establish a regime very similar to that of Nazi Germany in Britain."
"Who was their founder?" asked Starlight, confused. "Every fascist party like the Nazis must have an Adolph Hitler behind them, waiting in the wings."
Stormfront tilted her head, looking Maeve dead in the face as she did so.
"Well, one of us has been fucking the spawn of the founder. That would be William Luther Pierce, father of Arthur Luther Pierce. Let's just say the apple did not fall too far from the tree. Arthur wrote the Turner Diaries in 1978 under the pseudonym, Andrew MacDonald. That book inspired Timothy McVeigh, architect of the Oklahoma City Bombing in 1995. Arthur wrote the novel Hunter in honor of Joseph Paul Franklin, a serial killer who targeted interracial couples. Pierce is not some harmless, racist grandpa whose massive cock you ride to spite Homelander," answered Stormfront dryly.
Maeve stared back at Stormfront with an angry look.
"Who I fuck is none of your business, you gross, midget twat? Besides, he never said anything racist other than remark that North America rightfully belongs to Anglo-Saxon Europeans. I only seen him look a little concerned watching the news broadcast with Cameron Coleman talk about the military intervention into the UK. The one where they sent the U.S.S Obama. He was talking on the phone real nervously with his son… or something. When he was done talking, he crushed the phone in his hand to dust and dropped it into the garbage of the kitchenette of his penthouse. He then carried a fascist-inspired superhero costume up to the helipad. Told me it was for a costume party on his private island with his cronies," answered Maeve, confused.
Homelander looked at Maeve with a smile, laughing manically.
"Maeve, I thought you were smarter than that. That is what criminals do with their burner phones so the techs over at crime analytics cannot trace the call, or fucking hell, even the FBI, cannot ping the location of where the call is made," replied Homelander in an exasperated tone.
Stormfront tilted her head, pursing her lips.
"Really. Thousands of sailors' lives could have been saved if you had simply walked in on the conversation," scowled Stormfront.
"I was too busy showering off all of the cum he shot inside and on me to even listen. For an 87-year-old man, he sure produces a lot of cum. I only vaguely heard what was going on in the living room area that day. Newsflash: my enhanced senses are nowhere near that of Homelander's," objected Maeve angrily.
"Let me guess, does the 87-year-old man lie down and let you do all the work, reverse cow girl-style in order to hide something? Will he also knock you up and ruin your career like he did that petite, little blonde superheroine in 1979, George Washington's immortal daughter?" insisted Stormfront angrily.
"Wait! He's eighty-seven years old. My grandfather is younger than he is and he died of heart failure a few months ago. Blond men tend to go gray really quickly, and he looks around my age, twenty-three to twenty-four years old. How in the fuck?" asked Starlight, perplexed.
"Let's just say Pierce is in a sort of closet that is unrelated to sexuality. The man fucks anything that has red or blonde hair with a skirt. He's your typical billionaire skirt-chaser," sighed Stormfront.
"My main point was how the fuck does he remain so young despite being older than many of my grandparents on both sides of my family?" inquired Starlight, confused.
Stormfront let out a heavy sigh at what she had just heard. All of these questions being asked by Starlight were really starting to wear her down. She had to think of something, anything, to hide the fact of Arthur Luther Pierce's true identity and true motives, and she knew she was running out of bogus explanations. Then she quickly came up with one with the skill that would make even the most brilliant spin doctors at Vought jealous.
"Ugh, it was Pierce's patented Jovan anti-aging lotion for men, and his diet exercise regiment. Cold showers really tighten the skin as well," Stormfront answered with a wide, nervous smile.
Starlight looked at Stormfront with a rather deadpan face, somehow seeing through the cleverly assembled, bullshit narrative that Arthur Luther Pierce had put together of himself. To a degree, Starlight always knew there was something wrong about Pierce, one of the many things her mom told her about him when she was just a child. Those rumors were mainly from Jewish people who thought of Arthur as nothing more than the devil incarnate, Lucifer Morningstar brought to life as a result of twisted, evil European sciences. Conspiracy theories about Pierce having superpowers were rampant since her grandma and grandpa were at Woodstock, huffing hemp while supposedly fighting the "man".
"Okay," replied Starlight with a confused look, tilting her head.
"Well, his preference for the reverse cowgirl position would explain one thing: he's trying to hide the obvious fucking fact he's a supe," posited Homelander.
Meanwhile, Pierce was sitting on the couch of his penthouse apartment, watching his son give his speech to the leaders of the world. On the coffee table, there was a large plate of nachos, covered in seasoned ground beef and habanero cheese, a food he ordered his chefs to make for him every Friday for the past thirty-five years. 1985 was an interesting time for him, a time where he almost got caught and killed a while back.
His son had this very cocky, sure of himself look on his face, as if he was guaranteed to win despite the fact he was going up against the whole industrialized world with but a single, large Island in Europe. Nolan Pierce was the King of Austerias during the Reconquista of Iberia in the Middle Ages, but instead of having accepting impossible odds, the God Emperor of Europe was confident, brazen, even, that he could take on the whole world and win that war. The UK was a major, decisive blow against the system, but it was just one of the many battles ahead in the coming decades. Hell, the UK could wind up being one of the last bastions of Europe, which would end predictably with the Muslim controlled nations of France and Germany firing their ICBMs at Britain before it could act against them. Of course, his son would argue that the semitic Arabs would have neither the intellect nor the ingenuity to even maintain the nukes in the absence of White people.
"Loyal citizens, we shall look to expand our territory. As a technologically advanced nation, we are a rather dependent nation on the oil of the Middle East, which we need. Instead of our soft, degenerate, hedonistic ancestors, we shall look to take the country by force. Our military, despite taking a few dings, still has enough resources to mount an invasion on Saudi Arabia, one of the wealthiest oil nations on the planet," announced the God Emperor of Europe on TV.
"Compared to the Aryan Anglo-Saxon, the Arab is but bacteria. Killing them would be no different than washing one's hands after using the lavatory. And we have many, many ways of making them capitulate in a war. From aerial bombardment from up above to Naval Bombardment on the ground. Why, I could just fly over there, wipe out their power grid, and watch with amusement as all of the vermin kill each other in the chaos. The choice is yours, Prime Minister of Saudi Arabia. Hand over your oil to the UK and its vassal states in Europe or face total annihilation at the hands of your betters," threatened the God Emperor of Europe.
High aggression and arrogance were practically bred into the Pierce family after a dozen generations of selecting for high intelligence, high aggression, and lastly with the aesthetic traits of blonde hair, green or blue eyes. Eugenics was not something that started with Nazi Germany, it started in Greece, when the elders of Sparta would throw the defective, malformed babies off of a precipice while leaving the strong and healthy ones to live. Arthur Luther Pierce was the product of centuries of selective breeding to create the smartest, strongest, and tallest European male, boasting a brilliant mind in addition to an extremely muscled physique. In a way, he was one of the first supes ever created, except he was not superpowered, he was just peak-human in a lot of major categories. Being injected with the progenitor serum took a near perfect, peak human and ascended him to godhood.
To his son's credit, he was not the mid IQ, low aggression, genetic caste that made up most of Europe's population, a majority fit only to till the fields and die in the wars of their betters, not fit to govern a country, let alone themselves. Most humans, including those of his own people, should not be incentivized to breed, but instead thrown into the meatgrinder that was war. Both natural selection as well as selective breeding created a human that was stronger, smarter, and more aggressive than a human born in the slop pale that was the dysgenic, modern, egalitarian society. Equality to Pierce was a false god, born out of the oriental slave religion that was Judeo Christian morality.
Nolan, while extremely intelligent and forward thinking, was very arrogant, aggressive, and sadistic. Arthur had no idea what traits were bred into him from his mother's side, but all roads had pointed to something very wrong with his genetics. Sure, he killed most people quite efficiently from where Pierce was observing on the television; however, when it came to someone who personally wronged him, he chose to torture them, slowly and painfully, as noted by that monstrously disfigured scientist on TV, Abram Diamond, not that Arthur felt sorry for him in anyway shape or form whatsoever.
Still, he and his son were the imperfect prototypes of the new, evolved, European race to come in the next few hundred years, once all of the competitors have been liquidated in the coming war. Arthur could almost picture it, a race of psychic gods, who could literally dominate the entirety of the cosmos soon in his lifetime. Only the smartest and strongest were to be injected with the progenitor serum, while the rest of the population would simply serve as a source of skilled and unskilled labor to perform tasks beneath them. Only a thousand or so specimens were needed. Inevitably, dominant genetics would sort the rest of it out.
First, he had to instruct his son to wipe out the largest genetic pollutants of Western gene pools first, which for the most part, he was succeeding on that front. Second, he needed to separate the wheat from the chaff inside of his group. Finally, he will inject that group with his father's purified serum into that chosen group. That serum has no side effects, aside from causing a sort of lupus like disease in subjects with very significant amounts of non-European admixture in their DNA, with non-Europeans simply dying to myocarditis when injected with it. Frederick Vought hated that about it, as he believed only a very small percentage of Germany's population could handle it without dying of autoimmune diseases. To Arthur, it was a feature, preventing the genetic trash of his own race as well as the non-White races from attaining his level of power so easily, without having to go through the Russian Roulette game that was Compound V.
Arthur smiled at the TV while chewing on a ground beef covered nacho dipped in salsa.
Soon after thinking of the future, the news broadcast switched to the leader of a BLM protest, Jerome Darkus, who seemed to be, from the look of his furrowed brow, pretty upset with the current state of affairs in Europe. Behind him, cars were being set on fire. Shops were being picked clean. It was the usual routine in America when minorities were killed, except this time it was more widespread across the Western world.
"This seems interesting," remarked Pierce.
Jerome Darkus was a large, hulking, muscular man of around six feet, eight inches tall and weighing three hundred pounds, which was mostly rock-hard muscle and iron-dense bones. His face was broad, round, and angular, with a narrow, triangular forehead to match. One of his eyes was gruesomely scarred, with a long scar across one side of his cheek from a knife fight by the looks of what Pierce had observed of him, implying an intensive criminal past. The eye on that side of his face was milky in color, a sort of cataract created as a result of having a knife slash it open. One side of his lip was so badly scarred, Arthur could see Jerome's rotten, green teeth.
"White America needs to be taught a lesson here: racism did not originate in America, it originated in Europe, the heartland of the vile people called Whites. Those people have enslaved Africans for centuries because most of them did not want to do jobs seen as beneath them like picking cotton, or fruit for instance. Now that technology has came into the picture, you vile devils have decided you do not need us at all, and thus beginning the process of actively wiping us out in their homelands. We will not stand for this!" proclaimed Jerome, pointing at the television screen.
Then it cut to a generic, interchangeable MSNBC news anchor switching the camera to places like Europe, where already Islamic extremists had bombed several Christian Churches in retaliation for the pogroms they faced in the UK. One of them was blown completely apart, with German Christian families lying on the ground, missing limbs, and covered in various shrapnel wounds of varying sizes. Pierce was a bit miffed; however, it was to be expected.
"Fucking insects," laughed Pierce sardonically, before grabbing another nacho, dipping it in salsa, and chewing it.
It then cut to another protest in Germany. These protestors were simply picketers, obviously with much more impulse control than the BLM protestors in America, ironically.
"We are not bacteria," yelled the Muslims.
"As embarrassing as it is to use reddit speak, cope and seethe, you fucking muzzrats," stated Pierce derisively, before taking a drink of Mountain Dew Volt.
"And of course, the poojeets aren't doing anything on account of being a race of spineless, effeminate cowards, who only attack when their targets were down on the ground, disabled, massively outnumbered, or all of the above. No wonder they forfeited their country to the might and majesty that was the British Empire."
"In France, there is a much greater upheaval going on," announced the anchorman.
All across Paris, Africans and Muslims were arming themselves with machetes, killing everyone and everything paler than furnished wood. Several people were being carried into ambulances, their stumps covered in bandages and tourniquets. One man's head was cut off and displayed on a wrought iron fence. A woman's face was carved up Mexican Cartel Style, judging by the fact her face was just a featureless mass covered in crimson bandages. Her eyes were more than likely slashed out and her ears were cut off. All wars had their casualties.
Pierce was not crying about the tragedies his son indirectly caused, nor the people horrifically mutilated beyond measure by foreigners. All he was thinking was how they were going to lament their actions when his son made them pay Europe and North American's European populations back a thousand-fold for their horrendous crimes. By a thousand-fold, they were going to go the way of the dodo bird, while the survivors died on their knees, begging for mercy that they have long exhausted. All that was, was a temper tantrum on a large scale: no thought, no organization, no target selection, just pure indiscriminate killing. No different than what retarded rednecks did outside of stadiums when their favorite team lost, except replace burning cars with bombed churches and mutilated people. It was just a temper tantrum to get attention from the news media. And what that communicated to Pierce was "look at me! Look at me! I am so oppressed that mega corporations were backing me through corporate branding." If the roles were reversed, and those were White people, the military would promptly show up and fill the criminals full of holes at a moment's notice. That was the only thing about those happenings that angered Pierce, which in the grand scheme of things, meant that any operator had to target high value targets, not randos on the street. At least while the System was still in power, that is.