UNITED NATIONS HEADQUARTERS – NEW YORK, YEAR 2000
Global Emergency
Chaos engulfed the United Nations Headquarters in New York. For the first time in human history, a Global Emergency Summit was held publicly, attended by representatives from 189 nations.
For the past three days, the world had been plunged into unimaginable turmoil. A wave of mysterious assassinations targeted high-ranking officials across multiple countries. Global communication systems had completely collapsed—satellites, military networks, navigation systems, even conventional radio communications were reported to be non-functional.
A joint task force from the world's ten largest military powers—including the United States, Russia, and China—had locked down the UN complex under high alert. Fighter jets patrolled the skies, and missile defense systems were set to auto-launch mode.
---
INSIDE THE UN GENERAL ASSEMBLY HALL
The atmosphere was tense, thick with rage and paranoia. Sharp debates and relentless accusations echoed through the chamber. Three days had passed without a single consensus.
"We've been arguing for three days and not a single answer has been given! The world demands an explanation!" barked the U.S. representative.
"Explanation? All we have is coordinated assassinations, global sabotage, and acts of terrorism the likes of which we've never seen!" the Russian delegate snapped back.
"All our communication satellites have lost control. Something—or someone—is blocking the global system," stated the Chinese representative firmly.
"Worse than that—every nuclear launch system in the world has been locked. None can be activated," added the French delegate, voice trembling.
"Our observatories detected a massive foreign object in Earth's orbit. Most likely… a spacecraft," said the Japanese representative, handing over visual data to the central table.
"We confirm. Optical and infrared sensors both report… a fleet. Not just one ship. A fleet," added the British delegate.
"Wait—are you seriously suggesting that we're… under attack by aliens?" asked the German representative, hesitant but direct.
"There's one thing no one's mentioned," said the Brazilian delegate, rising to speak, voice low but resonant. "The first incident happened in Hungary. Their entire government disappeared… then returned the next day. But—not with the same consciousness."
"Are you accusing us?! We have no such technology!" shouted the Hungarian representative—speaking in a tone disturbingly mechanical.
"We're well aware of the vampires and lycans hiding within your borders. Don't pretend to be clean," the British delegate shot back with a glare.
Diplomatic tension escalated. The chamber was a powder keg waiting for a spark… until five military officers from the world's major powers burst into the room. Their faces were pale, drenched in sweat. They whispered emergency reports directly into the ears of their respective delegates.
Seconds later, an explosion of simultaneous outrage erupted from the central tables.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?! REPEAT THAT! IF THIS IS A JOKE, YOU'LL BE SHOT ON THE SPOT!" screamed the delegations of the United States, Russia, Britain, France, and China nearly in unison.
---
UN HEADQUARTERS – NEW YORK, YEAR 2000
The U.S. military envoy stepped up to the emergency podium. His face was pale, voice shaking but firm.
"This… is not a joke. We've received high-frequency transmissions from all over the world. Every major city on this planet… is now under the shadow of a massive spacecraft."
Silence swallowed the entire assembly.
Some delegates bowed their heads in prayer. Others stared at the ceiling, as if they could see the horror waiting just beyond the atmosphere.
The UN Secretary-General finally rose. His voice was heavy, but he tried to remain composed.
"We have received confirmation from U.S. Central Command in New York. A colossal spacecraft is now hovering… directly above this city. And not just here—worldwide."
Suddenly, the main screen lit up.
Live footage from U.S. military radar came on-screen. Images of Manhattan revealed the looming form of a gargantuan warship—alien in design—standing ominously in the sky with silent menace.
Panic broke out.
"We need to know who they are! Are they biological? Artificial? Alien?!" shouted the American representative.
"We don't even know their language… or their intentions! Explorers? Invaders?" asked the Russian delegate.
"It's too early to conclude that they're here to destroy—"
"ARE YOU STUPID, BRITAIN?! They're hovering with warships over our cities! If that's not a threat, I don't know what is!" the French delegate exploded.
Then… all transmissions went dark.
Total blackout.
Seconds later, the screens came back on—but not through UN systems, nor any global military network.
The sigil of the Imperium of Man appeared, the twin-headed eagle blazing across the display.
And then, a woman appeared. Deep purple hair. Sharp gaze. A cruel smile full of dominance.
The broadcast began.
To the entire world.
To all of humanity.
---
GLOBAL BROADCAST – LIVE TRANSMISSION
The camera flickered on.
Mira Han stood before a massive observation window. Behind her, Earth arched grandly in the void—glowing blue against the black of space. The silhouettes of warships crowned the atmosphere like a halo of thorns.
She wore reflective black armor, paired with combat high-heels seemingly engineered for committing genocide in style. Her smile? Sharper than a laser blade—and far more lethal.
"Hello, Earth.
I'm Mira Han.
Owner of Han's Raiders. Destruction specialist. Commander of the Imperium of Man's fleet.
And—oh yes—wife to someone far more polite than me."
She tossed her sunglasses onto the chair with casual disdain, then turned to face the camera. Her gaze held the weight of a war queen deciding whether to ignite or incinerate the world.
"And… your soon-to-be ruler of this charming little planet."
She chuckled softly. The sound wasn't loud—but it vibrated along the nerves.
"You're probably wondering why hundreds of warships are politely hovering over your capital cities.
Simple answer: I came here on contract.
And I have a reputation to uphold."
A holographic panel flared to life beside her. A world map appeared, red dots blinking into existence—Washington D.C., the Kremlin, Jakarta, Beijing, the Vatican, Berlin, Tokyo, and more.
"But relax. I'm a reasonable woman.
If you'd like this planet to remain intact—or at least still recognizable from orbit—
You've got two options:
Surrender… or be obliterated."
She raised one hand, fingers glowing with cybernetic interface.
"This is strictly business. But if you start getting boring… well, then it becomes a hobby.
And I'm very committed to my hobbies."
She held up two fingers.
"One: Send your surrender coordinates. Open your asset transfer channels. Say the magic words:
'Please don't vaporize our city.'
Two: Act tough—
and watch what happens when the 'Total Annihilation' clause kicks in."
The camera zoomed in. Half her face fell into shadow, but her smirk remained fully visible. Her right eye lit red—the targeting interface now active.
"I don't care who you are—president, king, idol, celebrity, pro gamer—
You all look the same… once you're ash."
She snapped her fingers.
Across the globe, every screen flickered. A digital countdown appeared:
OPERATION: SURRENDER OR BURN
TIME REMAINING: 72:00:00
"Three days, Earth.
That's longer than most of my paid skirmishes.
So—you should feel honored."
She sank into the command chair, crossing her legs with elegance. One hand rested on the console; the other casually spun a mini plasma rifle in her lap.
"Mira Han out.
And if any of you survive…
consider hiring us in the future.
Well-mannered clients get a discount."
[TRANSMISSION ENDS]
---
FLEET COMMAND ROOM — MIRA HAN'S FLAGSHIP
Reuel finally arrived at the main command center of Mira Han's armada—a massive warship hanging in orbit like a dagger poised to pierce the Earth.
"Heh, who dares trespass uninvited? Got guts, huh… Oh. It's the Master of Mankind," Mira Han said with a leg casually crossed over the other in her command chair, her voice a blend of flirtation and mockery.
"Mira, from this moment on, you're in charge of the entire planetary subjugation operation. I won't interfere."
"Relax, sweetheart. I'll make the planet kneel… using my favorite method: big explosions and plenty of smoke."
Reuel ignored Mira Han's irreverent tone. He accessed the data terminal and scanned the adjudant AI's reports on Earth's current state—at least within this version of the Underworld universe. But one thing made his eyebrows rise: the existence of the Warhammer and StarCraft intellectual properties in this world.
"StarCraft came out in 1998…
Which means this is still StarCraft I era," Reuel thought to himself.
"And if this is the year 2000… then in Warhammer timeline terms, we're still at the end of the 30th Millennium. Right when the Horus Heresy is raging."
He leaned back and shut the terminal.
"Let the Warhammer fanatics have their fun on this planet…"
---
AFTER THE BROADCAST — THE FANDOM DOMINO EFFECT
Not long after Mira Han's global transmission, millions of sci-fi and gaming fans worldwide spiraled into mass hysteria. The two-headed eagle—the sacred emblem of the Imperium of Man—appeared on every screen from Times Square to Jakarta's MRT stations.
Warhammer fans immediately screamed in existential panic:
"IMPERIUM OF MAN?! EMPEROR OF MANKIND?!
WHY IS THERE A SPACE MARINE IN MY WORLD?!"
"Dear God!—I mean, Dear Emperor! I believe now!
Please don't send me to the Inquisition!"
"I've worshipped Khorne since I was a kid…
Do I need to REPENT?!"
"SWAP THE HAMMER—THE SMALL ONE'S NOT ENOUGH FOR THIS!"
Things spiraled into a meta-fandom apocalypse when an actual Inquisitor appeared live on national news—clad in blood-red robes, cybernetic eyes glowing blue, servo-skulls orbiting his head like ominous cherubs. The audience was speechless.
The most shocking part?
It wasn't even 40K yet.
It was still the 30th Millennium.
The Horus Heresy was at full blaze.
---
LONDON — GAMES WORKSHOP HEADQUARTERS
Coffee mugs dropped in fan lounges. In central London, Sisters of Battle and Inquisitorial Acolytes marched down the streets like a dystopian military parade. Their destination: one place.
The headquarters of Games Workshop.
Hours later, the company shut down without warning. Servers went offline. Rumors spread that staff tried fleeing the country. Unfortunately… it was too late.
Devourer Dropships deployed Leman Russ tanks, Chimeras, and even a Baneblade directly into the city center. Roads were torn apart, skyscrapers cracked open, and London's traffic—already infamous—reached demonic levels.
The roar of engines and the hymns of the Astra Militarum echoed through the chaos.
Local police tried to stop them. The military was dispatched.
The result?
Plasma cannons answered faster than diplomacy.
The city became a warzone—flames, rubble, and total panic. Civilians fled while the Imperium of Man laid siege to Games Workshop HQ like a mechanical holy crusade.
---
INTERROGATION ROOM — HALF-DESTROYED GW BUILDING
Inquisitors stormed the remains, flanked by Sisters of Battle and Skitarii Tech-Priests. They found the President of Games Workshop reading a script where a Space Marine dies to a single bullet.
One Inquisitor held up a comic.
"What is this supposed to be...
'The Golden Toilet'?"
"Who the hell is… 'The Big Psychic Guy'?"
"Old Bacon...?
This is heresy—in written form."
"Why is a Space Marine dying to conventional ammunition?!
You insult the sacred genome of the Primaris!"
The GW President tried to laugh it off.
Big mistake.
"You're good at painting.
You'll paint our reality in court tomorrow."
One Inquisitor turned toward the camera.
"This level of heresy is beyond the Inquisition's reach.
I recommend processing him into a servitor."
Warhammer fans across the globe wept in loud, shameful sobs. They burned their Xenos and Chaos faction flags, smashed their Necron and Eldar miniatures, and changed all their social media profiles to:
"For the Emperor."
Warhammer became real.
And there was no respawn button.
---
BLIZZARD ENTERTAINMENT HEADQUARTERS — TOTAL LOCKDOWN
At Blizzard Entertainment's headquarters, the atmosphere was tense. Terran Marines, Firebats, Marauders, even Goliaths and Siege Tanks surrounded the building on all sides. The full force of StarCraft's factions—from the Terran Dominion to the Umojan Protectorate, and remnants of the UED—had all converged on one point: the creators of their universe.
Former UED officers encircled Blizzard's CEO, their expressions tight with fury.
"Hey, why are we labeled as villains in your new games?"
"Why can rebels kill us so easily?!"
"Let's just hand them over to those maniacs from the Inquisition. This is clearly propaganda and misinformation!"
"Exactly. You made General DuGalle look like some cheap B-movie villain."
Meanwhile, internet forums were ablaze. A comment war erupted between Warhammer and StarCraft fans—hotter than a battle between Space Marines and Zerg.
"If I'm into Eldar girls and Spirit Tribes, will the Inquisition arrest me?"
"Upstairs, they'll check your credit card debt first."
[A loud explosion is heard. That user never replies again.]
"I regret ever saying the Emperor was just a constipated man squatting on a golden toilet…"
"Wait—if the Emperor really exists in this world… that means—"
"STOP TALKING! I don't want to become an egg of Chaos!"
"I want to be Chosen of Chaos!"
"Even Nurgle wouldn't take you, bro."
"But seriously, did you guys see their spacecraft? The designs are straight out of that old Blizzard game, Blood Wars!"
"Holy crap, you're right… the game sucked, but the unit design was spot-on!"
"Zerg + Chaos Gods… that's a combo even God Himself would reject."
The appearance of the Imperium of Man spread like wildfire. Civilians were split between awe and sheer terror. Strangely, the Imperium wasn't quite as brutal as in the novels. In fact… they seemed more organized and efficient—if not outright terrifying.
News broadcasts showed Inquisitors and Astra Militarum troops appearing around the globe. Chaos reached a new height when the UN headquarters went into panic: a colossal voidship was seen torching churches, mosques, and temples alike, denouncing them as centers of heretical doctrine.
The most explosive event: The Vatican.
It was stormed by Sisters of Battle and Ecclesiarchy forces. They burned anyone who did not worship the God-Emperor of Mankind.
---
THE WHITE HOUSE — PRESIDENTIAL TRANSITION INTERRUPTED
Inside the White House, the transition period between Bill Clinton and George W. Bush came to a sudden halt. A secretary rushed in, clutching the latest intelligence report.
"Mr. President, I've got good news and bad news. Which one would you like first?"
Clinton and Bush exchanged glances, then opened the documents.
"According to this," Bush said, scanning quickly, "it's time for the Emperor to walk the Earth. They say he's humanity's legendary savior."
"What do you mean… The Emperor? From where? Warhammer? What company made this? Get their president in here!" Clinton barked.
Neither of them had heard of Warhammer before. Hearing that the Emperor was a central figure, they assumed he was some sort of positive religious icon.
"Sir," the secretary explained, "CIA just detained a Warhammer fanatic. From interrogation, we've learned that the Inquisition serves as the law enforcement of their universe. Right now, it's the 30,000s—during the Great Crusade led by the Emperor. If we don't play along… the world's future will become even more unpredictable."
"Everything's in the CIA brief, sir. Please read it."
"And why haven't we detained the president of Games Workshop yet? London's a mess. They're calling GW heretics for portraying the Emperor… sitting on a golden toilet."
Clinton exhaled deeply.
"The world's gone insane."
"If I knew the world would turn into a hellhole like this," Bush whispered, "I'd have strangled myself with my own umbilical cord at birth."
---
WORLDWIDE: GLOBAL CITIES IN CHAOS
The impact of Mira Han's broadcast was immediate.
Panic spread like wildfire across dry brush.
From New York to Tokyo, Berlin to Jakarta—civilians fled the cities. Highways gridlocked in minutes. Train stations overflowed with refugees. Supermarkets were looted, windows smashed. Law and order crumbled in a matter of hours.
Sirens wailed non-stop.
Screams echoed between buildings.
And above them all, the sky—now crowded with massive warships—hung like a sign of the coming apocalypse.
Riots erupted across continents.
Looting. Arson. Rape. Gunfire in broad daylight.
There was no safe haven—only a rapidly spreading sense of collective despair.
Within five minutes, the fleet began to move.
Hundreds of dropships launched from battlecruiser hangars, carrying Astra Militarum troops, Terran Marines, Marauders, Hellbats, and other strike units to key strategic locations.
Thor-class walkers landed on all four sides of New York—north, south, east, and west. Each major urban zone received two.
Siege Tanks deployed in artillery mode, blocking all escape routes from the conflict zones.
Astra Militarum forces descended in massive waves, sweeping through the streets with brutal precision. Anyone deemed a threat was eliminated on sight.
In the skies:
A swarm of starfighters—Banshees, Wraiths, Vikings, Lightnings, and Fury Interceptors—claimed absolute air superiority, downing Earth-based jets with ease. They flew in tight assault formations, patrolling the upper atmosphere.
Wherever fires or armed resistance appeared, airstrikes were launched.
No warning.
No mercy.
Goliaths escorted infantry through hostile zones. Medics moved through battlefields, treating the wounded—civilian or military alike.
Captures were swift, calculated, and often fatal. Anyone armed was detained, interrogated, or executed on the spot.
Scout Servo Skulls and low-orbit satellites blanketed the megacities, running AI-assisted pattern recognition, tagging threats for immediate extermination.
---
UNITED NATIONS HEADQUARTERS – NEW YORK
Tension froze the halls of the United Nations headquarters. Soldiers from dozens of countries stood along the perimeter, eyes to the skies as warships slowly descended troops.
No one moved.
Fingers clenched rifles, but not a single weapon was raised.
From within the mist came a mechanical roar. Foreign troops advanced in formation—their armor far beyond any known military standard on Earth.
Terran Marines clad in polished blue steel.
Hellbats burning bright red.
Massive mechs shook the ground between heavy assault vehicles.
Above, Wraiths and Valkyries flew low, weapons glowing.
The Imperium of Man formed a flawless siege perimeter.
Perdition turrets locked onto the UN building like steel jaws.
Siege Tanks entered artillery mode, aiming directly at the heart of global diplomacy.
Vikings shifted into ground mode, reinforcing logistics and flanking defenses.
And then came the Thors.
Each step crushed civilian vehicles like paper. Buildings collapsed. Roads shook. The city transformed into a fortress under siege.
The sky darkened with alien silhouettes, ensuring total air dominance. Earth's jets and helicopters—technologies of the early 2000s—dared not take off. They knew: they'd be blown out of the sky before clearing 200 meters.
Inside the UN, world leaders gathered in the main assembly hall. Giant monitors showed the same destruction unfolding across all global capitals—Paris, Tokyo, Washington, Moscow, Riyadh. The world had fallen.
The U.S. representative wiped cold sweat from his brow.
"What can we do now? They've encircled the building. And we know… they didn't come just to show off."
The Russian delegate responded, his voice heavy.
"In ten minutes, they'll control the entire planet.
Unless we want to be turned to ash, there's only one option: surrender."
The Chinese representative added:
"They outnumber us, outgun us, and out-strategize us.
They might be human… but they're not from our time."
The British delegate turned to the others.
"So… who's raising the white flag first?"
Silence.
The eyes of 189 nations turned to the five major powers—United States, Russia, China, the United Kingdom, and France.
The French delegate smirked faintly.
"You all see it, don't you? Everyone's waiting for us.
Let's end this… with what dignity we have left."
The others nodded slowly. One by one, they stood. Followed by dozens of other representatives. The five major powers led the way, carrying white diplomatic flags toward the occupying forces.
---
THREE DAYS LATER
Mira Han, commander of the Imperium of Man's expeditionary force, stood on the balcony of her flagship, gazing down at a world now fully conquered.
Within a single lunar cycle, every political, military, and social structure had collapsed—replaced by a regime that was rigid, brutal, and ruthlessly efficient.
The victory report was sent directly to the Master of Mankind: Reuel.
But not all territories submitted quietly.
Small resistance cells had begun to form in remote cities.
But Mira Han tolerated no disobedience.
With cold efficiency, she activated the Yamato Cannon.
Target: a single star-flagged nation.
Simultaneously, seventy Apocalypse-class nuclear warheads were launched toward Israel. Each missile was aimed at military command centers and major urban districts.
The sky turned red with nuclear fire—an apocalyptic dawn tearing across the horizon.
The entire planet watched the destruction via mandatory global broadcast.
Mira Han's voice sliced through the silence. Short. Cold. Final:
"To anyone still thinking of resisting... look west.
There lies the grave of rebellion."
From that day forward, not a single nation dared rise again.