Chapter 15

“So, this bunch think that they can just conquer North America in days? The other crew, too, I see. Well, that’s something that they’ll soon learn is wrong. I will take it over in mere hours, if not minutes. Excuse me, folks. I’m heading to DC. I have some trash to take out,” I announced upon hearing the news of just how bad the incel uprisings in the nation’s capital, Vermont, and other places were.

That didn’t even count the Dominionist revolt in Virginia. Yeah, fuck that noise! Evidently, the Mayhem had let loose some serious whack jobs while I was busy claiming my prizes, adding to my harem. Well, it was my fucking mess and I was going to just have to clean it up. Had so much time really elapsed and I didn’t realize it? Well, the saying must be true that “time flies when you’re having fun,” mustn’t it? I had work to do, though that didn’t mean no fun in the process.

I landed in the midst of the heavily armed militia, with many of my black armband wearing followers at my back, and it didn’t take long to make mincemeat of those incel motherfuckers. They clearly weren’t all incels, some of them just opportunists and such, but they would all perish until or unless they surrendered to me. Capturing DC was my job, my task, not theirs. I’d be damned before I let some virgins and their sympathizers seize my throne.

“Get to the damn White House, now! Let’s find the President and get his surrender! North America is mine now ... the US and Canada alike! As for Mexico, time shall tell,” I smirked, thinking that an independent Mexico might be useful as a safety valve for my detractors ... for now.

Let them imagine themselves safe at the moment. Time would catch up with them, as would I. If the drug cartels didn’t destroy them, I would in time. In due time, it would all be mine. But I would take my first slices from the Anglophone world. North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, etc. One vast, sprawling, English-speaking empire, though officially termed a “Commonwealth.” A cozy euphemism for what it really was: my personal domain.

My realm. The nucleus of Leviathan’s state. Operating on Hobbesian principles. That seemed fitting enough, given the constant “war of all against all” that was the fate of most of human history. Until now. Until my hegemony was established to put an end to all of that static. I would bring them all to heel, sooner or later, but I would start in my own neighborhood.

Democracy was finished. Democracy was the god that failed. It was time to face facts and embrace my global hegemony, my autocracy, my complete supremacy over all nations and tongues. Like Augustus, I would put an end to the corrupt republics that preceded me and lay down the foundations of a new settlement, a new world order. Unlike Augustus, I wouldn’t use the old morals, but supplant them with my own. Yes, my Hobbesian regime would have its Nietzschean touches as well.

I was Nietzsche’s Superman, and not in a racial sense. I was there to abolish the old world order and its moral underpinnings, eradicating the weak, slavish herd morality of the past and instilling a fundamentally new paradigm. Abrahamic religion and its moral ethos would be extinct like the dinosaurs of old. Oh, I’d leave them be in their churches, mosques, and synagogues, of course. But the world outside their cloisters would soon be unbearable and unrecognizable to many of them. At least of the older generation. The youth always adapted to change quicker than their parents and grandparents.

“Sir, we’ve received the abject capitulation of the Prime Minister of Canada. Surely, the fall of the United States Government must quickly follow it. North America is yours, Master,” George informed me now.

“Excellent. How far are we from the White House?” I inquired about the progress of my militia in occupying all of the government district.

“We have captured the White House, sire, and Capitol Hill, as well as the Supreme Court building, but the President and most of Congress have fled. As have six of the nine Justices of the Supreme Court. What shall we do with those we have taken alive?” Jessica asked me with eager anticipation.

“Offer them comfortable exiles with pensions. Golden parachutes. I don’t want focal points of resistance presented by career politicians who should have retired ages ago, but didn’t because they had the chance to double dip. Rich exiles are far less likely to want to return to power and leave their lives of opulence and comfort behind. Those with nothing to lose are dangerous. There will be a time for retribution, but best not use it on mediocre adversaries if they submit,” I proposed.

“And if they resist?” Victoria wondered.

“There is a story that, when his son took the Italian city of Gabii, the last King of Rome, Tarquin the Proud, didn’t give verbal instructions. He just walked out with his sword into a poppy field and lopped off every tall one. His son got the message and executed the local elites, making way for new ones subservient to Rome. Capice?” I related my parable in an unmistakable fashion for my chief disciples.

“I fully comprehend your will, my Master,” Gabriel did his best Darth Vader impression, making me chuckle.

His voice did kind of remind me of James Earl Jones, after all.

“Alles in ordnung,” I responded in German, “All is in order. Divide and conquer the foe. We shall bring them all to heel, sooner or later. All of the world will be mine. In time. In the fullness of time, as the Christians like to say.”

“But the Anglophone world first, then,” Candice stipulated.

“Very much so, my dear. Very much so. First establish the model state, the utopia. Sooner or later, the rest of the world will come crawling to me on their hands and knees, begging for inclusion. The price of admission will be steep, but they will be granted their wish, of course. And the ones who don’t comply, well, there will be consequences for defying the express will of God, won’t there?” I laughed as the Vice-President of the United States, somehow just now captured, was dropped in front of me.