There is a secret globalist command center near the North Pole. The attraction here is not just remoteness, but relative equidistance from world target areas, which are always changing as human awareness and events unfold.

The facility construction renders the entire compound impervious to most kinds of attack including non-nuclear ICBM warheads. Hilton is not a conventional man and constructs a small nuclear device deliverable as a standard small heat seeking mortar projectile. This will not melt the earth’s ice cap like a nuclear ICBM or produce planetary axis shift.

August 7, 2009

Hilton has gone as far as he can in a normal ice fishing boat. It would be nice to go most of the rest by air, but their surveillance gives the enemy a three-hundred-mile hit radius. He can’t get hold of a stealth aircraft, and in any case, wouldn’t be able fly it himself.

Power wise, Hilton’s snowmobile is set up to give the range he will need and will trigger no alerts, except the last few miles. He ramps it off the boat, and heads north. On the way up he sees polar bears at intervals and steers well away from them.  Even the Werebear is no match for those big fellows.

When he is sixteen miles from the facility, he stops, and becomes the Werebear, merely for the strength and endurance factor. He puts on his skis and proceeds to a point five miles away where he can hit the facility, lay flat to avoid the initial small flash, then retreat rapidly without injury. The devise generates intense heat rather than explosion. It will literally melt the compound, and boil these bastards in their own juices.

 The Werebear sets up the mortar. As he prepares to fire, he sees a man on skis approaching rapidly with a rifle. He calmly sites in the mortar, fires, and falls flat.

The flash comes just as the man stops to shoulder his gun, His reaction to the flash is superseded by the bullet between his eyes that the Werebear fires from his rifle lying on the snow safely out of flash.

Although the Werebear cannot see the facility, it melts rapidly just like a peppermint patty under a broiling element. Everything inside, including eighty-six globalist swine, rapidly incinerates. As he leaves, the Werebear notices a smell like roasting pork. The trip back is rapid, but uneventful.