*The sequel to Chronological Influences: A Soviet AAR *
Difficulty and AI Agressiveness: Regular
Version: VIP 0.4 with VIP 0.3 countries and personalized economy rates
Welcome, once more, to another of my After Action Reports. This is the third and final chapter in my series of AARs chronicling the tales of Alexei Stukov in his quest to dominate the world. At the end of the last story, Stukov, his wife and son, and four of his Imperial Guardsmen escaped into the past using a time machine as the Kremlin was being overrun by a military coup.
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Enjoy, and feel free to comment, criticize, or congratulate as you best see fit.
January 1st, 1836
A cold wind blew silently across the frozen landscape, causing clouds of snow flakes to scatter up into the air. The world was blanketed in white. A fresh snow had fallen during the night as the new year rolled into being. It seemed fitting that the very infancy of the year was met with a fresh, pure layer of snow. Smoke curled lazily up from the farmhouse chimnies scattered sporadically over the rural scene. No one was out in the cold. There was little for these simple farmers to do other than rest and stay warm at this time of day at this time of year.
Not far off from the worn dirt road that snaked through the farmland, a ghostly azure light glowed amidst a small grove of pine trees. The blue light danced against the whiteness of the snow and the blackness of the night. And as suddenly and as silently as the azure light came into being, it flickered out again, vanishing into oblivion forever.
Several minutes later, six figures appeared out from amongst the trees. Four of them wore blood red armor, clashing brilliantly with the snow, each one examing their surroundings, holding weapons this land had never known before. Another of them was a woman, craddling protectively against her chest a tiny child wrapped securely in a bundle of blankets. The final man, dressed in clothing befitting an emperor, gazed over the landscape with eyes that burned brightly with an internal resolve of a great leader.
"This isn't the Soviet Union," the man stated.
The woman smiled and looked up from the child. "So much the better. But if not in Russia, then where?"
The man glanced at the four armored men and shrugged, "Hard to say where this is, or even when."
"You don't even know when we are?" the woman asked in exasperation.
He shook his head, "We were lucky to get out before Konev's men cut the power to the Kremlin. I was rushed."
The woman sighed softly before turning her attention back onto the baby, "Well, it doesn't matter right now. We need to get some shelter before we freeze to death."
The man nodded and slowly slogged his way through the snow towards the road, marked by wheel tracks in the snow. "Hasn't living in Russia prepared you for cold?"
She followed, the armored Guards hovering protectively with them. "By we, I mean Feodor," she looked at the baby again, "I would have gotten something more, but I was rushed."
The group made their way down the road, following the closest column of smoke floating up into the sky. After several minutes, they arrived at a modest farm house.
"This will do," the man remarked to no one in particular.
"Shall we eliminate the building's occupants for you?" asked one of the red-armored men.
The man's expression, a seemingly constant frown, curled up into a smile. "No, that won't be neccesary for now."
As the group walked closer towards the house, the man spotted a flag fluttering in the weak breeze. He turned towards the others, his smile only growing larger. "Lady and gentlemen, we've finally gotten ourselves a bit of luck. Welcome to the United States of America."
He knocked on the door. Under his breath, he muttered to himself. "This will be easy."