“ITS NOT OURS!”
“WHAT?”
“ITS THE BRITISH! THEYRE SHELLING VLADIVOSTOK FROM THE SEA!”
“FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!” More explosions sounded around them, as the earth shook and a block of houses collapsed further away
“TELL THEM TO STOP! I NEVER ASKED FOR A NAVAL BOMBARDMENT”
The radioman yelled into the radio, then looked at it, and bashed it against the ground in fury
“WHAT?”
“IT’S BUSTED! THE RADIO IS BUSTED!”
“WHAT IS IT WITH THIS GODFORSAKEN HELLHOLE?” More buildings around them exploded, as another pile of dust covered the soldiers “LETS JUST STORM THIS BLOODY TOWN SQUARE. CHARGE!” The squad roared as the men ran onto the town square, where hundreds of German soldiers were covering behind tank wrecks and firing mortars. Jorgen felt the urge to make a heroic speech to his men, but it would be of little use: Nobody would be able to hear him anyway. He ducked behind a tank and peered over to look at the Russian defenders. He was amazed.
Standing in the middle of an enormous group of Russians near the Town Hall stairs was no other than Stalin himself. He was wildly firing a looted MG42 into the German attackers, his eyes conveying his state of complete delirium. The man’s raw power was unbelievable, as he screamed and roared like a madman, singlehandedly holding an MG42 and blasting away without aiming or covering. The realisation of the end of his era had driven the man to insanity, now shooting without aim, mowing down anyone foolish enough to come in his sight, be it friend or foe. A spread of bullets bounced off the tank wreck, and Jorgen was forced to duck as bullets flew whistling overhead. Enough of this. He took his rifle off his back and loaded. All he needed now was an opening.
Jorgen’s rifle was not an ordinary rifle. It was a Kar98K, with a Russian scope custom-fitted on, giving it the superior zoom of Russian scopes combined with German reliability and precision. This rifle was the same rifle as that had been used in the attempted assassination of Van Geyte, a rifle charged with history. It seemed only natural that this would be the rifle to end Stalin. The bullet spree stopped for a while, as the Germans began counterfiring. This was his chance. Jorgen lunged up, aimed, and pressed the trigger. This was one for Van Geyte.
In the midst of a scream, Stalin suddenly stopped. He stumbled back, grabbing his chest, and looked at his hand. Blood. His eyes seemed to be gauging out as he stared at the bullet wound in his chest. Jorgen had missed the man’s head, but hit the chest. It proved to be enough. With an expression of amazement, Stalin looked upon the world, experiencing the last minutes of his life. Before stumbling over, Stalin raised his machinegun one last time, blindly spreeing into a German squad that had attempted to switch cover and was exposed, and uttering one, last, brutal roar. His bellow reached even the farthest points of the town square, as German soldiers sat behind their cover, petrified by this unhumanly sound. A second shot by Jorgen hit Stalin in the stomach, and he tumbled over. Josef Stalin died a soldier’s death on the 1st of October 1943. His death marked the end of communism around the world.
After hearing the news of the death of Stalin, the remnants of the Red army surrendered, signing an unconditional peace with the Channel Pact.
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Edit: Yes, posted in the last minute!
-Laurence
Edit: Yes, you forgot the font. The font, Laurence, the font!
-Vincent
Edit: Screw the font Vincent! I posted on time !
-Laurence
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