The Type VII sped ahead across the rolling, wild sea. A lone figure, clad in a raincoat, stood upon its grey hull. Dr. Rolf Finkle fired bolt after bolt of destructive energy from its deck mounted hyper-maser at his pursuers, a mass of reptilian flying saucers.

Dr. Rolf Finkle was quite fortunate. The reptilians were unaccustomed to using these war craft of theirs within planetary atmosphere. Furthermore, the hyper-maser, a prototype weapon of enormous power by even their standards, was too valuable to risk destroying. The reptilians, hanging from the bottoms of their saucers upon rope ladders with lizard cutlasses in hand, were hoping on a boarding operation - a boarding operation that Dr. Rolf Finkle would not allow them. He cut a destructive swathe across the flying machines with the hyper-maser, sending saucer after saucer plummeting into the frolicking waves below.

He did so with a grin of supreme glee. He knew that within his hands he held the future of the Aryan race. He gave the ergonomic grips of the maser a lustful caress. [i]"Hitler is of a small, limited mind,"[/i] Rolf thought to himself, [i]"He seeks only the Earth for the Aryan race. I will deliver to our glorious people the entire universe!"[/i]

With his fleet gone and himself in a panic, the Lizard Emperor ordered his mothership - a Reptilian Xixax-Flek, a truly colossal hab-ship vessel which housed their very race - to decloak and descend upon the U-boat. He chewed the fingertips of his glove with consternation as he peered out from the bridge at this Dr. Rolf Finkle that had brought fiery genocide to his finest. His eyes widened to be saucer-like. "How has this mere human caused such destruction to our kind?!" The Lizard Emperor shouted. 

[i]"No mere human, mein freund. The finest specimen of the Aryan race ever born to this Earth!"[/i] Dr. Rolf retorted with his psionic powers, then gave the Lizard Emperor a migraine.

As the Emperor clutched his head, he suddenly felt his legs parting. He looked down. To his horror and amazement, the hyper-maser had cleaved the very ship in two. Beneath him was the open air and the shimmering sea. As the ship drifted apart, he fell between the two halves of burning wreckage and into the raging waters below.

Dr. Rolf Finkle smiled to himself and tore open his vest. Upon his chest was tattooed "No. of Races Genocided." He produced a Hitlerjugend knife and carved a single strike beneath this header - he knew it would not be the last.