Preface
Comrades, I am going to be publishing in serialized fashion an incel-themed novel that I have been recently working on. While it borrows themes from both dystopian and utopian literary works of fiction, it mostly represents my own aspirations for a future incel society where we have brought peace, justice and security to a new incel empire. What follows is chapter 1. I hope you will enjoy reading this if you have the time.
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It was a cool October afternoon when Jack Diamond opened the heavy metallic door to his black unmarked sedan as he stepped out on to pavilion in front of the Elliot Rodger Memorial Building which housed the headquarters of the Security Service of the Incel Protection Force. Jack loved his job. He was a man who fully embraced the propaganda and imbibed the ideology of the Blackpill with a fanaticism and zeal that was unrivaled by many of his colleagues, most of whom were more focused on putting in their time and earning their stripes so they could advance to more comfortable jobs which afforded greater privileges.
Jack pulled open the large glass doors which formed the main entrance to the building and swiftly approached the control desk which was manned by two heavily armed IPF Commando Brigade Troopers who looked resplendent in their magnificent black uniforms with peaked caps, black polished jackboots and immaculately maintained AKM assault rifles. The more senior ranking trooper, Sergeant Radbacker snapped to attention and rendered a Roman salute with his right arm while shouting “Heil Rodger!”. Jack returned this proper greeting with a vigorous “Hail Victory” and with his own arm outstretched, as was the custom and protocol amongst all IPF soldiers.
“Good morning to you Captain Diamond, how are you doing today?”, said the Sergeant with distinct a tone of deference.
“Oh, well thank you for asking comrade sergeant. I am actually having a magnificent day as I have been temporarily assigned to serve as the inspection protocols officer for Enemy Detainment Facility number fourteen.”
A large grin came across the otherwise stern face of the sergeant, “That is excellent news sir. Praise be to Saint Elliot and Allahu Akbar! I am certain all those miserable cunts there in the EDF will soon be shitting themselves with terror when they see you show up!”
“Hahaha” chucked Jack in response to this jovial, though slightly impertinent remark. “Indeed sergeant, I am looking forward to putting the fear of Allah in to the hearts and minds of these insolent degenerates and bringing much honor upon the IPF while doing so.”
Jack handed the sergeant his official Security Service (SS) identification card and the latter swiped it through the bar code scanning system which was connected to the IPF interlink database. The “interlink” as it was referred to colloquially, was an enormous virtual repository of personal biometric, demographic and historical data on every single person domiciled within the lands of the Patriarchal Peoples Republic of America or PPRA. It provided an instantaneous verification check by displaying a color-coded response upon the scanning of an ID card. A dark hue of purple signified executive level IPF commanders, a deep crimson represented officers of the IPF and the SS, a forest green indicated soldiers and enlisted personnel of the state or other governmental operatives, a putrid hue of yellow was the color assigned to civilians, also known as “normies” and a bright, almost nauseating, color of pink was the ignominious sign of special class of people known as degenerate persons, or “DPs” for short.
The PPRA itself consisted of large swaths of territory that had formerly comprised the Midwestern United States but which was acquired through warfare during the course of the Great Incel Revolution that had occurred ten years ago in the year 2026. Jack was stationed in the national capital of Rodgerston which had previously been known as Detroit when it was a place of degeneracy, debauchery and unrestrained sexual depravity before the Great Cleansing had occurred. Now this newly christened metropolis was a shining city of moral rectitude and Islamic virtue, ruled by both the uncompromising and merciless authoritarianism of the Supreme Patriarchal Council and obedient to the precepts of the Holy Sharia law.
As Jack placed his SS identification card back in his finely bound leather wallet and strutted up to the main elevator concourse in the lobby, he wondered to himself how this morning’s meeting would go. He had been recently reassigned from his former position as Deputy Chief Regional Morality Enforcement Officer for the entire southern region of Rodgerston to the EDF program which was responsible for housing, reeducating and providing physical labor for any DP’s who had been sentenced by the IPF court system for violations of the Code of Ethics. Jack new the code by heart and revered its commitment to ensuring that all citizens, be they men or foids, be held accountable to the rule of law.
As the elevator reached the 90th floor of the Elliot Rodger Memorial Building, Jack walked out and surveyed the magnificent and rather arresting view which was afforded by a large row of enormous floor to ceiling bulletproof and missile resistant windows that faced the central government district of Rodgerston. He walked to the edge of the fine mahogany wood floors and peered down over the precipice of one of these windows and saw the minute specks moving down around on the streets below. Jack knew that the overwhelming majority of these specks were civilians or, in the parlance of the IPF, normfags and as such imagined to himself how it was fitting that he, being a man of great honor, chastity and moral integrity shall look down from such a majestic and lofty place and lord over the normfags below as though they were insignificant insects in comparison to him.
Before the Great Incel Revolution had begun, Jack had been a lifelong sexless man and despite his being highly intelligent, a trained attorney at law, tall, muscular and reasonably attractive, he had been scorned by the women of the previous era whose outrageous collective sense of entitlement had preemptively foreclosed any potential chance which even a man as objectively worthy and supremely gentlemanly as Jack would have had for a romantic encounter.
Jack had been an early supporter of the IPF and had the distinction of being permitted to wear the prestigious crimson beret of the SS which signified “old guard status” which was conferred upon any man who had joined the movement prior to its first formal political rally in the spring of 2025.
Jack glanced down at his fine Rolex watch, which had been bestowed upon him by his commanding officer for his Islamic piety and having achieved the righteous status of Hafiz which was reserved for those Muslim scholars who had committed the entire Holy Quran to memory. Although Jack had previously been a Christian and had believed in the precepts of his formerly Protestant faith, once he joined the IPF, he quickly repudiated the effete and moronically idealistic cosmology of Christianity and embraced the more militant, honorable and chivalrous teachings of Mohammed, Peace be upon Him.
The time was now 0855, or in civilian, normfag parlance, 855 AM. Jack quickly strutted down the main hallway of the executive tier office suites level of the building and approached a heavily reinforced steel door which was surrounded by video cameras and a remote-controlled machine gun that could be operated from an unseen command center. A voice bellowed out over a small intercom that was built in to the door, “State your name, your rank and whatever business you have here at the executive level!”
“I am Jack Diamond, Captain in the IPF Security Service and I have an appointment to see Vice Minister of the Interior and Lieutenant General of the Security Services McGee”.
The intercom replied brusquely to Jack, “Take one step forwards and face the camera with your eyes exactly three inches from the lens”.
The retinal scan took only a few seconds and a moment later Jack could hear the electric motors that provided power to the fully mechanized door actuate and begin to open the vault like inner sanctum of the executive level offices.
As the door opened Jack beheld an impressive display of military might and physical security. An entire twenty-man commando detachment of Islamic Mujahedeen Holy Warriors stood in a long line facing the entrance he had just walked through. Each was attired in the ubiquitous black colors of the specially consecrated Jihad Brigade of the IPF and wore the distinctive headbands inscribed with the Shahada, or holy Islamic profession of devotional faith. Only the eyes of these holy warriors were exposed from beneath their black balaclavas but those eyes betrayed a fury and intensity that instantly reminded Jack of the inspirational power of the Islamic faith. These were each men who were willing to die on a moment’s notice both on behalf of the IPF as well as in the name of Allah and they all knew that the glory of martyrdom and the endless and unimaginable pleasures of heaven would await them should they be given the great honor of attaining Shaheed or death for Islam.
Behind the row of Jihad Brigade holy warriors was a small metallic desk at which was seated a bespectacled man in his mid-50’s with a full Islamic style beard but wearing the uniform of a major in the Security Service of the IPF. The man looked up and beckoned for Jack to approach the desk.
Jack carefully walked between the perfectly symmetrical row of the Jihad warriors and stood at attention before the desk.
“I see that you are here on official business and per the summons of the Vice Minister himself this morning captain.” Said the major.
“Yes, sir and it is a great honor to stand here in the executive level”.
“Very well captain, standby for a moment”.
The major swiveled around in his black leather chair which looked to Jack to be a purpose-built PC gaming style chair, picked up a bright red phone and stated in a very soldierly and decidedly deferential tone, “Vice minister sir, your 0900 has arrived in the lobby sir”.
The major quickly spun back around and facing Jack said, “Alright captain please remove your sidearm and place it here on the desk. You will receive it upon the conclusion of your meeting”.
Jack walked up to the desk, unbuckled his fine black Italian made SS officers holster and removed the Glock G19 which he carried as his personal IPF issued officers pistol.
“Very good captain, now walk down the large hallway to the left of this desk and the third door on your left is that of the office of the vice minister”.
Jack turned and followed these very precise instructions until he was standing in front of two very large, heavy wooden doors that looked to be crafted from some of the finest English Oak he had ever seen. There was a small metal rung on the right door and Jack promptly used it to announce his presence.
“Enter!” said a commanding voice from behind the English Oak doors.
Jack walked in to what seemed to him to be one of the largest, most ornate and aesthetically beautiful offices he had ever beheld.
The walls were all paneled in fine maple and oak and the wooden floors were covered with what appeared to be ancient Chinese rugs featuring highly detailed stenciling of men bearing arms on horseback. The walls of the office themselves were adorned with numerous pieces of artwork including a large ornately framed portrait of a scene of modern military combat painted in a style almost reminiscent of Renaissance works of art. Jack recognized the depiction as a portrayal of the Battle of the University which had taken place during the Great Incel Revolution and occurred in the sorority and fraternity district of the University of Michigan between the lightly armed and mostly intoxicated students and the elite armored strike forces of the IPF.
In the center of the far side of the office, situated in front of a large panel of windows which were covered by fine drapery was an enormous wooden desk. Two flags flanked this SUV-sized desk, the official flag of the IPF with its crossed AK-47’s and ubiquitous incel man and, on the opposite side of the desk was the flag of Jihad.
Situated behind the desk sitting on an exquisitely crafted brown leather chair was a highly distinguished looking man in his late 30’s. He was wearing the black uniform of the SS but with silver trimming along his collar and the large embroidered oakleaves which indicated the rank of SS-Obergruppenfuhrer or Lieutenant General.
Jack snapped to attention and thrust out his right arm nearly shouting at the top of his lungs a most vigorous “Heil Rodger!”
The man behind the desk seemed unimpressed by this display of military pomp and motioned for Jack to come closer.
“I summoned you here this morning to personally give you a most important task captain. While you have been led to believe that you will be serving as an inspection protocols officer in one of our detention facilities, I actually have a more essential mission for you. This great incel society can only continue to persist if we ensure the preservation of the internal security, continuity and integrity of our societal and cultural order. There have been many recent acts of defiance which have been perpetrated against the governing class of men within the patriarchal order. We have identified a covert and clandestine band of particularly attractive foids who have been using their bodies, their innate sensuality and other whorish charms to inspire otherwise law abiding and Allah fearing men to do their bidding and attempt to organize a resistance to our authority. This we cannot allow. I hereby command that you will search out these rogue elements, infiltrate them and then bring them to the swift and merciless justice of Allah.”
Jack snapped back to attention and said with great gusto, “I am your willing and obedient servant, your excellency, lord general and I shall do whatever is necessary to bring these vile harlots to the justice which they surely deserve!”
Vice Minister McGee motioned for Jack to leave his office with a quick wave of his hand.
As Jack climbed back in to his unmarked sedan, he pondered what might be in store for him and reflected upon why the vice minister had selected him for such a mission of vital importance to national security. His fidelity and honor were irreproachable and his zealous Islamic piety was nearly sufficient to enable him to apply for membership in the Jihad Brigades. He now suspected that he would have to summon all of his manly fortitude, Islamic fitra and his stoical and firm countenance as an SS officer to complete this daunting mission.
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