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Those are just normal princes. Gelre is colored that red and was a Duchy
So the Soviets want to liberate the Waddenzee? Go home Olga, you're drunk, lay off the vodka for a bit.
So much music, so many missed opportunities for Normaal
To whoever made this:Yeah. That isn't even the fully balkanized one. The even more fully balkanized one is even more of an eyesore.
Even though this is much better for my purposes, I didn't use it because of the anachronistic names.
If Lux Invicta were set in the present instead of 1066.Yeah. That isn't even the fully balkanized one. The even more fully balkanized one is even more of an eyesore.
Even though this is much better for my purposes, I didn't use it because of the anachronistic names.
Calm down, it's only been two weeks.
In all seriousness, though, I had hit severe writers' block after the last update, and combined with a school break I couldn't bring myself to write the next update. But this AAR is not dead, although with finals and Christmas break coming up I'll likely post the updates at a slower rate.I'm not that good with Photoshop, so that second horrible bordergore map will have to do.
The French were indeed "assimilated" in CK2, but most placenames and some elements of French culture remain. And although I removed all French pops in the game, not all French were assimilated story-wise. A few "real French" still remain like Native Americans in real life. And the Soviets don't care about that anyways. Dacia, Poland, Bohemia, and Carpathia have barely 1% of their populations as Romanians, Poles, Czechs, Slovakians, and Hungarians. They'll just carve out a French state if it means deposing the Germans.
The Voltaire's Nightmare mod for EU4 would like to have a word with you.My eyes! They burn!Please don’t make one that’s even worse.
Wasn't the HRE's internal bordergore so bad that no regular map can accurately represent it?
It's a dream. Obviously Anne can't dream up worse bordergore.I was about to say that Italy should be way more balkanized than how you had it. That other map is more appropriate, if a complete eyesore. What a terrible Europe.
I was considering just posting a map of the European Union for the irony, but I decided against that. The ideal Soviet post-war order would not have any borders on it, because Europe would be balkanized down to the level that each city is its own country.
Yeah, the dotted lines look like lands that left the HRE.
The red splotches seem to have names, so I assume they're princes.
Don't forget the classic Ich bin der Walross.
I don't think Olga's old enough to start drinking yet.Those are just normal princes. Gelre is colored that red and was a Duchy
So the Soviets want to liberate the Waddenzee? Go home Olga, you're drunk, lay off the vodka for a bit.
So much music, so many missed opportunities for Normaal
I keep forgetting to include Normaal. It doesn't help that I needed appropriate music choices for that update, and I mostly know American songs. But I'll make sure they're included in the 1980s update.
*Shattered Europe.
The End of History, Part 31
Strasburg – 1944
Anne kicked Hoffman into a desk, while Hans Hansen punched one guard in the face, slamming him against a bookcase, and Tobias kicked the second guard into the door.
"Run!" said Hans.
"Do you always have to say that?" said Conrad Humboldt, rolling his eyes. "And why do these missions always have to end with us running from the Angeloi?"
"Just do it!" shouted Anne.
Dr. Bischoff stuffed his files into a suitcase and rushed out of the office. Alarms blared throughout the facility while they ran through the hallway. Several Angeloi guards rounded the corner in front of them and raised their weapons, but Conrad and Hans opened fire, cutting them down with their rifles before they could shoot. They reached the nearest door and ran outside.
"Did you really have to become a killer, Conrad?" said Bischoff.
"I didn't have a choice, Robert," said Conrad, "Vienna under occupation isn't exactly a nice place to be."
They got in the car as more guards spilled out of the building. Conrad floored the gas pedal and charged straight for the gate checkpoint at full speed.
A machine gun turret swiveled in their direction and let loose a hail of bullets. Tobias pulled Anne down, pressing her face against the seat to shield her from the onslaught. Hans fired back at the turret, getting off several shots. The turret returned fire, several rounds smashing through the windows and raking the side of the car with dozens of bullet holes. But Conrad didn't take his foot off the gas pedal and kept accelerating. The guards at the checkpoint barely had enough time to jump out of the way as the car smashed through the fence and out of the facility.
"Everyone okay?" he asked.
Hans cursed under his breath, lucky he wasn't hit. Anne looked up, finding she was unharmed. Bischoff likely wasn’t hit. But Tobias...
Anne saw Tobias's right side covered in a mess of blood. The old man remained silent, devoting most of his strength to pushing through the pain.
"Tobias?" Anne asked.
"I'm fine," Tobias said, "I'll get treatment when we get back. It's too dangerous to go into downtown Strasburg."
"No, Tobias, your wounds are serious," said Anne, "You need immediate medical help."
"The mission is more important," said Tobias.
"We have what we need," said Anne, pointing at Bischoff's suitcase.
"That won't matter if we stay in Strasburg," said Tobias, "If we don't get back to Frankfurt now, they'll find us and kill us."
Conrad continued driving, occasionally looking at the mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed by the Angeloi. Fortunately, nobody was driving on this dirt road today to see a windowless car riddled with bullet holes on one side.
They pulled up at the airfield. Conrad had them get out of the car, upon which he torched it to make sure it was unrecognizable. Then they walked the rest of the way to the plane. Hans, who had flight training, got in the pilot's seat and quickly got in the air as Conrad and Bischoff huddled around Tobias. Conrad's Inquisition training included first aid, while Bischoff had some background in biochemistry and medicine. Despite their efforts, though, Tobias's condition only deteriorated as they flew back to Frankfurt. Anne sat over by a window, watching the clouds pass by underneath. She couldn't bear to watch Tobias suffer like that. This man had turned her life around and given her a second chance to make a difference in the world. And now he was slipping away, and there was nothing she could do.
"Remember this," Hoffman had said, "You are helpless. You are insignificant."
No. She wasn't helpless. She wasn't insignificant. Tobias had made sure she wasn't. But he was dying now, and she was helpless to stop that.
The plane touched down in Frankfurt, and they got into a car and drove to the nearest hospital. Anne and Conrad helped Tobias into the hospital, where they explained to the doctors that he had been shot by a mugger outside a theater. It was ironic, given how Tobias's (and Catman's) parents died, but it was a necessary explanation, and the doctors wheeled him away to surgery. The four of them waited outside the emergency room, waiting for news on Tobias's condition. Two hours of dread and anticipation followed. Conrad refused to talk to his father, who talked instead with Hans. Hans was noticeably evasive in the conversation, not wanting to talk a lot about his and Conrad's work. Bischoff was likely secretive, not wanting to talk about his own work with the Angeloi besides what they had. Anne, meanwhile, withdrew from the world, contemplating her life. Everybody she knew had suffered because of her. Because of that blasted Angeloi Hoffman. Why did this have to happen to them? Why did they suffer? Why not her?
A nurse approached Anne. "You are Herr Wagner's adopted daughter, right?" he asked.
"Yes," said Anne.
"Then I offer my condolences," said the nurse, "We couldn't save Tobias Wagner."
The bottom fell out from Anne’s heart. Her stomach tied itself into a knot.
"Remember this," Hoffman had said, "You are helpless. You are insignificant."
“No,” muttered Anne, “No. No. No! No! NO!”
She couldn’t cry. As much as she was grieving, she couldn’t bring herself to cry, because she was just filled with rage. She could only see Hoffman laughing, mocking her predicament. She saw her parents lying dead again, bleeding out on the floor of their kitchen while flames consumed everything around them. She’d lost another person she cared about, and at his hands no less. It was her fault. She had convinced Tobias to go with them, and he was dead now. She had lost her parents again. She was alone again.
They buried Tobias Wagner a week later. It was a "private" ceremony conducted at the Wagner family crypt just outside the mansion, though since Wagner had no living relatives at all only a few of his business partners and friends (most were already dead) were there. Some unexpected guests included Friedrich Drumpf, the real estate developer, and Nikola Tesla, the founder and CEO of Tesla Dynamic. A local priest sympathetic to the Resistance conducted the sermon.
Anne didn't pay attention to the memorial service. She and Rita just stood next to his coffin, feeling uncomfortable among the crowd of powerful old businessmen. Rita cried her heart out, while Anne stood silently, trying to comprehend what she had done. It was only when the will was read did she start paying attention.
Everybody had expected him to have at least one child to leave the company and fortune, but he died childless (except for one son who might have been illegitimate and had disappeared in the chaos of the war), and his siblings were all dead and likewise childless. What Tobias did with his company assets caused some uproar. Wagner Enterprises and its non-real estate subsidiaries were left to Tesla Dynamic, while Drumpf received the rest, to their complete surprise; Wagner Enterprises was the third largest corporation in the Reich and Imperium, and its partition between the Drumpf Organization and Tesla Dynamic (if the Angeloi would allow it to happen) would give them an almost complete monopoly over their respective industries. More surprising, though, was the fate of the Wagner household: it was left to Anne and Rita. All of it. Even Alfred.
Almost everybody in attendance nearly rioted. Anne and Rita weren’t his children. And they were both still underage. What rights did they have to the estate of one of the Reich’s richest families? Some of the better connected in the audience threatened to put in a word with the local Angeloi party leadership, while others simply voiced their opinion that the estate would be better used in the service of the Angeloi or turned into a library. Alfred took Anne and Rita home early. Rita couldn’t believe their “luck.” They had lived in luxury for three years, but the money belonged to Tobias, not them. Now it was theirs. She was giddy with excitement over how to use their new wealth, particularly their stock options. She had an eye out for Tesla Dynamic’s stocks and told Anne that a seat on their board would bring in a respectable income for both. Anne simply ignored her, staring out the window. All the money in the world couldn’t bring back Tobias or her parents. All the money in the world couldn’t bring down Hoffman.
As soon as they got home, Rita ran off to Tobias’s study to find books on economics and to hire some lawyers. Anne went down to the Batcave, where she sat down and gazed sadly at the lair. Ten minutes later, she found Conrad next to her. They walked back upstairs.
"Guess this is how Batman dies," said Anne, "Not as Batman, but as Tobias Wagner."
"I should have seen that coming," Conrad replied, "He was good at keeping the Batman's identity a secret. And now he'll take it to the grave. Which begs the question...what are you going to do with the Batcave, now that it's yours?"
"This cave hasn't been used in years," said Anne, "Maybe I'll organize a Resistance cell and use this as a base."
"A Resistance cell?" said Conrad. "You're not seriously thinking of joining the Resistance?"
"Tobias tried to remain neutral, and look what it got him," said Anne, "It's time I took a side. He died fighting for a cause, and I intend to take up his fight, carry on the Batman's legacy. And I just want vengeance against the Angeloi, both for me and for Tobias. They need to pay for killing my parents and Tobias."
"Look, Anne," said Conrad, "You don't know what you're getting into. You're still a kid. You can't go around fighting for the Resistance! That's our job."
"At some point I have to stand up to the Angeloi," said Anne, "I won't be helpless and insignificant anymore. I have to fight back."
"You're walking a dangerous path," said Conrad, "But I suppose if you believe in what you're doing, I can't stop you. But remember who you are, Anne Frank, please."
"I am not Anne Frank," she said, "Anne Frank died when her parents were killed."
"Then who are you?" asked Conrad.
Vienna – 1985
“For the last time, Anna, I’m not—” began Anne.
“Later, Mom!” interrupted Diana. “There’s plenty of time for this at home!”
Diana swerved onto a side street and accelerated. Anne rolled down her window as they sped towards a barricade of sandbags and soldiers.
“Could you slow down a bit, Anna?” she said.
“Mom, get down and stay down,” said Diana.
“No,” said Anne, “I don’t hide from a fight.”
She brandished an assault rifle, while Diana reached for a tape the Crown Princess gave her. Diana loaded the tape and hit play.
“Seriously?” muttered Anne. “Why can’t we listen to more civilized music? I mean, would it have hurt to put on a little Rollensteins? Back in my day—"
“Mom, you know that when I drive, I set the music,” said Diana, “And we don’t have time to change the tape.”
The enemy soldiers noticed them and shouted to each other, scrambling for their weapons. But by then, it was too late. Diana shifted into top gear and floored the throttle. Anne opened fire.
Elisabeth Alexandra continued driving down the street, listening to nothing. She didn’t have any tapes with her. But she didn’t care about that. She had more urgent matters to attend to. And she could only imagine the “interesting” conversations the others were having.
“No Konigin or ABBA?” said Victoria Louise, interrupting Elisabeth Alexandra’s silent contemplation of the scenery.
“You should’ve asked me before I gave my tapes away,” replied Elisabeth Alexandra.
“Really?” said Victoria Louise, “I expected better of you. What about the Kaferen? Or Prinz! Or Joachim! Don’t kids these days love those Malians?”
Gunfire raked the back of the car, and Elisabeth Alexandra cursed. Enemy soldiers appeared from the alleys and formed a line in front of them.
“Not now, Mom!” shouted Elisabeth Alexandra. “And not every black person is a Malian!”
“Know what?” said Victoria Louise, loading her assault rifle and rolling down her window. “Keep driving. I’ll handle everything.”
Elisabeth Alexandra grinned. “Whatever.”
She floored the gas pedal, and Victoria Louise opened fire.
Salzburg Airport
“Wheels up in five!” shouted Erich to the crewmembers. “Get in those last checks! The Kaiser’s counting on us!”
The crew turned back to loading missiles, ammunition belts, and fuel into the helicopters as Erich strolled over to one of the jets, where Friedrich Kurtz and his wingman, Commander Ganz, chatted with each other.
“How’re you doing, boys?” he asked.
“Never been more excited,” said Friedrich, “I’m really feeling the need right now.”
“The need for what?” said Erich.
Friedrich and Ganz smiled at each other. “The need for speed!” they shouted in unison, giving each other a high-five.
Erich glared at them. “That catchphrase belongs in a movie, not in real life,” he said. “Anyways, get ready to roll out.”
“Got it, Director,” said Friedrich, climbing into the jet.
Erich walked over to the nearest helicopter, where Deputy Director Kurtz and Ambassador Tempel waited for him.
“Erich,” said Wilhelm, “Lovely day we’re having today. Not a cloud in sight.”
“The same can’t be said for Vienna,” said Erich, “We’ll be going in blind.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Wilhelm.
“Have faith in your brother,” said Erich, “He’s the best pilot we got.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Director,” said Wilhelm, “I was asking the Ambassador.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Shirley, “Where were you when Prague happened, Director?”
She walked past the speechless agent and climbed onto the helicopter.
“For the record, I was in ‘am,” said Wilhelm.
“Tell her later.” Erich climbed into the helicopter and shut the door.
As the helicopters powered up, Friedrich climbed into his jet and pulled down the canopy. He flipped some switches, and the cockpit chirped to life, the heads-up display booting up. The engines steadily hummed. Two controllers waved from the tarmac, guiding him to the runway. Ganz was right behind him.
“This is Eisen,” he radioed, “Completing final safety checks, over.”
“Eisen, you are clear for takeoff, over,” returned the air traffic controller.
“Copy that, over,” said Friedrich.
The controller next to him held up his hand. 3…2…1… He made a thumbs’ up, and Friedrich repeated the gesture. The engines roared to life. He lurched down the runway, the immense g-forces pressing him back into his seat. The jet shot into the air, with Ganz close behind. Looking behind him, he saw that the helicopters were now in the air as well.
“All units in the air,” radioed the controller, “Happy hunting, boys. Over.”
“Copy that,” said Friedrich, “Requesting a flyby, over.”
“Negative, Eisen,” replied the controller, “The pattern is full, over.”
“Eisen, don’t get any ideas, over,” said Ganz.
“Come on, Blut,” said Friedrich cheerfully, “Loosen up a bit! Over.”
He banked hard to the left and flew straight for the air traffic tower, zooming past it at full speed. He could almost hear the controllers spitting out their coffee as the sonic boom shook the tower. The controllers began shouting in three different languages, only one of which Friedrich spoke, but he knew from the tone of their voices that they were making a threat and invoking the Kaiser in some way.
“Like I said, I feel the need,” said Friedrich.
“The need for speed!” finished Ganz.
“If you boys are done, we have some royals to rescue, over,” said Erich.
“Yes, sir,” said Friedrich, “We’ll be right there. Over and out.”
They doubled back towards the helicopters.
Blachernae Palace, Constantinople
“How long has he been in there?” asked Kohl.
“Since last afternoon,” said Mihailo, “Missed dinner, breakfast, and lunch.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Kohl.
“Yeah, I can’t believe it either,” said Mihailo, “He’s never done this before.”
“This is unprecedented,” said Kohl, “Whatever Valentin said must have made something snap.”
“Do you think it has to do with Vienna?” said Mihailo.
“What else could it be?” said Kohl. “It takes a lot to anger him.”
“Have you tried talking him down?”
“He won’t listen to me. I’ve sent everybody I thought he would listen to, and he’s still not responding to anything.”
Mihailo sighed. “Have you tried everybody?”
“Yes, everybody,” said Kohl, “The reporters are getting suspicious, and I don’t think the senators and representatives can hold out for much longer. We might have a crisis on our hands.”
“We haven’t asked everybody yet,” said Mihailo.
“Who do you have in mind?” said Kohl. “His sons aren’t close to him, but if even they and his brothers can’t get through to him, who can?”
“That would be me,” said Kaiserin Mother Zita.
A door opened and shut, and an old woman in a beautiful purple dress walked down the hallway towards them. Kaiserin Mother Zita, despite her youth gone decades ago, still radiated a commanding aura and a wise composure only someone as old as her could give off. This was Otto’s mother, the woman who made sure he survived the uncertainty after his father’s assassination and the dark days of the interbellum years. Holding her hand was a little girl, who couldn’t have been older than three. She stared at the general and the chancellor, not knowing who these old men were.
“Chancellor, General,” said Zita, “It’s good to see you two. You must be desperate if you’re asking for my support. What has my son done this time?”
“The General Secretary angered him so much he won’t talk to any of us,” said Kohl.
Zita raised her eyebrows. “That’s a new one,” she said, “Last time it was the Angeloi. Kidnapping his wife does that to him, you know.”
“Yeah, can you help us out?” asked Mihailo. “We’re concerned about him. The press is starting to ask questions, and we’re worried about the effect on the war effort.”
Wilhelmina tugged on Zita’s dress.
“Mina, dear, we’re going to see Grampa soon,” said Zita, “Be quiet and he’ll be out soon.”
Kohl sighed. “We tried everything to get him out. What makes you think he’ll listen to—”
The door swung open, and Otto appeared. “Mom?!” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Grampa!” shouted Wilhelmina, hugging his leg.
“Oh, hello, Mina,” said Otto, picking her up, “My, you’ve grown a lot!”
“Otto, we have to talk,” said Zita.
“About what, Mom?” said Otto.
“What that Russian said,” said Zita.
Otto sighed. “I told him to shut up,” said Otto, “It’s over.”
“You call locking yourself in your office for several hours ‘over’?” said Zita.
“I needed time to collect myself,” said Otto, “I can’t believe we were all so stupid. All of us knew that Vienna would fall weeks ago, we knew people we cared about were trapped there, but what did we do? Who did we send? Nothing. Just some Imperial Guardsmen without backup. And what happened to them? They’re all dead. They swore an oath to me to defend our country and our people, and they ended up dead. Because I didn’t do more to help! I sent them to die, and when they died—”
“Calm down, Otto,” said Zita, “You’ve been here before. Remember the Angeloi?”
“What are you getting at?” snapped Otto.
“You can get past this,” said Zita, “You defeated the Angeloi before. The Russians aren’t any different from them. They can still be beaten.”
“We were too proud,” said Otto, “Mihailo said it was either Berlin or the Balkans…”
“Hey!” said Mihailo.
“…And we chose Berlin,” said Otto, “Just like last time. We left Austria and the Balkans exposed so we could go after Berlin. A hundred thousand dead in Ruse, and we’re no closer to retaking Berlin.”
“That is the generals’ problem, not yours,” said Zita.
“I’m still here, you know!” said Mihailo.
“Where’s Mommy?” asked Wilhelmina.
The adults stopped talking, and Otto looked down at his granddaughter. “Honey, Mommy is busy right now,” he said.
Otto hesitated. Zita looked at him, expecting him to say what was needed. Wilhelmina was just a toddler. There was no way she could understand what had happened to her mother or the circumstances which led to the war at her age. He would tell her the full truth when she was much older, when her mother was back. But for now, he said what needed to be said.
“Soon, honey,” continued Otto, patting her head again, “I promise.”
Vienna
Olga opened fire. At that moment, Angela noticed she was approaching an intersection, so she slammed on the brakes and twisted the steering wheel as far to the right as she could, hoping Olga would overtake her and go down the wrong street, giving her more time to get away. Just as she expected, Olga did not expect her to brake and shot past her.
As the assassin passed, Angela saw that her expression was a mix of shock, anger, amusement, and confusion. Angela laughed and hit the gas again. This stunt only bought her a few seconds. She would have to lose her down another street to get away for good. But it was a good thing that the car was responding as quickly as it could and was regaining momentum at a rate normally seen in Formula 1 racecars. She would lose Olga in no—
A car honked at her, and she instinctively slammed the brakes, coming to a stop behind a line of cars waiting at a red light.
“Come on, kid!” shouted a driver next to her, clearly annoyed. “What is this, the Grand Prix?”
“What?!” replied Angela, really confused now.
She looked around her. This wasn’t the street she was turning onto. Technically, it was. But she thought she was turning onto an empty war-ravaged street. It looked like this entire block was completely intact. And the sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight.
She cursed. It must be another one of her episodes again. She had been having these hallucinations for as long as she could remember, and this couldn’t have been a better time. For all she knew, she stopped on the real street, where she would be a sitting duck.
“It’s just an illusion,” she told herself, “None of this is real.”
She cautiously tapped the gas pedal and promptly rear-ended the car in front of her, which inundated her ears with honks and curses.
“What’s your problem, lady?!” shouted the driver. “You need to be somewhere?”
Of course, there was logic in dreams, but this felt like real life, not a dream. Horst’s car was still bullet-ridden. The windows were still broken in the right places. Her engine still hummed, the dashboard displaying the correct information. The clock read the right time.
“If I go will—" Suddenly the music cut off, and the radio started playing.
“…a glorious day for the Empire,” said a journalist, “As President Deng Xiaoping of the United States of Central China meets Viceroy Jiang Jingguo in Vienna to negotiate Chinese reunification after decades of division…”
The light turned green, and suddenly the hallucination ended. She found herself back in the deserted rubble-strewn street of the real Vienna. The radio spewed static for a few seconds, trying to find a channel that didn’t exist, and then resumed playing her tape.
“—there be trouble?”
She quickly looked around her, finding that there was nobody in the area, not even Olga. It looked like Olga didn’t realize she was having an episode. But she saw Angela turn and should have doubled back to pursue her. She should’ve seen Angela stop and do nothing for a minute. Why didn’t she finish her off? Perhaps she wasn’t an important target after all. Olga was probably going after the other targets…Anne or the Kaiserin. Angela cursed. She was supposed to be the distraction for them.
She quickly recalled the route to UN Island and drove off, hoping to get there before Olga and find the others in time. The drive there was mostly uneventful, as she didn’t run into any enemy soldiers or assassins. That was either fortunate, because she didn’t want to die, or unfortunate, as she wasn’t distracting anybody. The only drama for her was finding a bridge to UN Island. All but one bridge had been destroyed, and that one was far out of the way. Furthermore, Horst’s car barely functioned at that point, and she didn’t know how much longer it would last. Luckily, it had enough power to get up the bridge and over to UN Island in a respectable time.
As she parked in front of the still-intact UN Headquarters, the flags of the world still flying at half-mast as if nothing had happened elsewhere in the city, Diana walked up to her, knocking on what was left of her door.
“You made it,” she said.
“I can’t tell if you’re glad or disappointed,” said Angela.
The agent shrugged with a smile. “Maybe I’m both.”
Both women broke into laughter.
“Where’s your mother?” Angela asked.
At that moment, she heard tires screeching, followed by a thud as metal impacted concrete. She looked back to the bridge and saw Anne and Elisabeth getting out of their cars, which had been moved into position as barricades.
“It’s not much,” said Diana, tapping the face of her watch, “But it’ll buy us time until the helicopters arrive. They should be here in fifteen minutes, if they’re not late.”
Angela strained her ears, hoping to pick up the beating of helicopter rotors or fighter jet engines in the distance. But she heard nothing. If they were coming, they weren’t close enough.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“Nothing,” said Victoria Louise, walking up to them, “We just wait.”
Anne tossed Diana a sniper rifle. “Get ready,” she said, “They’re probably on the way. And I don’t mean the helicopters.”
She pointed across the river, where enemy soldiers prepared motorboats to cross the river.
“I’ll take care of them,” said Diana.
Suddenly, the barricade exploded as rockets slammed into the cars, setting them on fire. A small figure on a motorcycle zoomed past the wreckage, a rocket launcher in her hands.
“Angela, take the royals and get away from me,” said Anne, picking up a rifle.
Angela quickly realized what she was getting at as the Director strode towards Olga. She motioned to Elisabeth Alexandra and Victoria Louise, and they walked in the opposite direction, heading for the open lawn between the UN Headquarters and the riverbank. Diana lay down in the grass and aimed her sniper at the motorboats. She pulled the trigger. One soldier dropped into the water. She reloaded, and a spent shell pinged into the dirt. She pulled off another shot. Another soldier dropped. Diana calmly reloaded and fired again.
Olga approached Anne, dropping her rocket launcher and picking up a pistol. “You don’t get to escape me twice!” she shouted.
“Cut the talk!” replied Anne, loading her rifle.
Olga opened fire, and Anne ducked behind Horst’s car. She returned fire, and Olga rolled behind a tree. Olga quickly ran out of ammunition. Anne tried shooting at her again, but her rifle jammed, forcing her to drop it. Both women ran at each other and started trading punches and kicks, ferociously pummeling each other.
Explosions and gunfire echoed across the Danube. Missiles slammed into several motorboats, machine gun fire strafing others. Enemy soldiers toppled into the water, flailing as blood sprayed everywhere. The rest of the boats halted their advance, the gunfire forcing them back to the riverbanks. Angela looked up, following the smoke trails back to four aircraft that had just emerged from the clouds. The faster and smaller ones were fighter jets, and they broke away from the other two and continued attacking the soldiers on the shore. The slower ones made their way towards Angela and the others, revealing themselves as old Siam era Vals. The cavalry had arrived.
Over Vienna
Erich’s helicopters made their way eastwards. They couldn’t see what lay below; below them lay puffy white clouds stretching over the horizon. They had no intel on what was going on down on the ground. Erich knew they were going in blind, but if everything went well, this would be a quick mission. Get in, recover the targets, and get out. The jets would provide air support while they were below the clouds and open to enemy fire.
“I see you’re nervous,” said Shirley, “You haven’t done this before, haven’t you?”
“Ran with the 101st Airborne in ‘am,” said Erich, “Nothing special.”
“There’s nothing special about Schnitzelberg?” asked Shirley.
Erich sighed. “You’ve done your research, ambassador,” he said.
Shirley nodded. “The Director told me.”
“Why am I not surprised?” replied Erich.
“Attention,” radioed the pilot, “This is your pilot speaking. We’re five minutes out and will be starting our descent to UN Island shortly. It is 65 degrees and overcast at our destination, with a slight chance of rain. Please fasten your seatbelts. Thank you for flying with the KL, and we hope to see you again shortly.”
The soldiers grabbed and loaded their guns. Erich noticed a young man, probably in his mid to late twenties, manning a machine gun almost as large as him. He looked scared but determined.
“What’s your name, son?” he asked.
“Private Hermann Makarios, sir,” said the gunner.
“Your dad’s the senator?” said Erich.
Hermann nodded. “I don’t like to think of myself as his son,” he said, “Want to be my man. Do my part, you know.”
“I understand,” said Erich, “My dad was like that. He was a war hero. Not a high-profile job like your dad’s, but still enough to cast a shadow over me. I’ve been trying to dig myself out of it ever since.”
“Guess that makes two of us then,” said Hermann.
The clouds rushed up to them, engulfing them in fog. Wind rushed past them. The gunners took up firing positions behind the turrets. Erich breathed in the cold water-filled air.
“I have a question, Director,” Shirley said.
“Shoot away, ambassador,” said Erich.
“Why UN Island?” said Shirley.
“Our last message was Hofburg being overrun,” Erich said, “UN Island’s international territory. They can’t access it, let alone fight there, without breaking international law.”
“I’m an ambassador to the UN,” said Shirley, “The Reich might be a UN member, but not the Warsaw Pact. I voted to expel them. We all did. They don’t answer to the same treaties.”
“We know UN Island isn’t in enemy hands,” said Erich, “They have an aversion to occupying it if we aren’t there first. Getting shot at is another matter.”
Erich’s radio crackled. “Leaving cloud cover, over,” reported Friedrich.
“Copy that,” said Erich, “Maintain radio silence unless attacked. Over and out.”
“Get ready, Director,” said Shirley, “You’re about to enter your own Prague.”
The clouds fell away, and Vienna appeared in all its glory below them, smoke rising from the destroyed city center.
Erich stood up. “Listen up!” he said. “The Kaiser’s counting on us to bring home his family, and the Athanatoi’s counting on us to get the Director to safety. We have one shot at this. Let’s not mess it up. Battle stations!”
They descended towards UN Island. The jets pulled away, heading for the motorboats advancing across the river.
“You ready for this?” Erich asked.
Hermann shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Erich located three small figures on one of the lawns, waving their arms wildly. Two more figures struggled in a nearby parking lot.
“The package is in sight,” the other pilot radioed, “Repeat, the package is in sight, over.”
“Copy that,” replied Erich.
The two helicopters touched down on the lawn, and the soldiers quickly got out, their weapons drawn and ready. Erich and Shirley followed behind them.
“Fan out!” ordered Erich, gesturing to the building. “Secure the area!”
The royals arrived first, not even running. They didn’t look scared at all.
“It’s about time,” said Elisabeth Alexandra.
“Apologies for the wait, ladies,” said Shirley, “But Otto will be glad to hear you’re both fine.”
“Thanks, Ambassador,” said Victoria Louise, “We’ll do accountability later.”
“Where’s the Director?” asked Shirley.
“She’s busy,” said Elisabeth Alexandra, gesturing to where she was punching Olga.
Erich heard Angela shout out to him. “Dad!”
He dropped everything and rushed over to Angela as she ran towards the helicopters. She looked tired and disheveled, but at least she was alive. He hugged her tightly, glad she was here.
“You finally came, Dad,” said Angela.
“Don’t ever do this to your mom and me again,” replied Erich, “We’ll talk about your grounding when we get home.”
“Dad, I’m in college,” replied Angela. “You can’t ground me!”
“I’m your dad, and of course I can!” said Erich, sternly.
“I hope you’re joking, Director,” said Victoria Louise in an even sterner voice.
Erich sighed. “This is already an awkward day, Your Majesty,” he said, “First I have to pull a Prague to rescue you all, and now I’m being told off by the Kaiserin?”
“Save it for Salzburg,” said Elisabeth Alexandra, strolling past him.
Shirley gestured towards the helicopter. “Your chariot awaits,” she said.
The radio buzzed with static and gunfire. “We have contact, repeat, contact!” shouted a soldier. “Multiple hostiles! Shots fired, repeat, shots fired!”
More gunfire erupted. Erich instinctively pushed the royals and Angela onto the helicopter and looked back at his men, who fired at the motorboats. Some of them had reached the island, deploying squads of soldiers. Diana, still firing her sniper rifle, retreated as bullets flew, each of her shots taking down another soldier.
“Get in!” Erich shouted.
“Not without Mom!” Diana replied.
“She’s right behind you!” said Erich, and she reluctantly climbed in.
Anne and Olga kept each other locked in close combat, blows falling on each other. Olga might be younger and faster, but Anne had decades of experience, and she was more than a match for the child assassin. Every blow Olga threw was easily blocked, but there were many of them, and they threatened to wear her down. At the current rate, it seemed like the fight would drag out until one of them was worn down. But both women were evenly matched. Anne wouldn’t make it back to the helicopter in time before the soldiers arrived.
“Director!” shouted Hermann, swiveling the turret towards Anne. “What are your orders?”
Erich opened his mouth to respond, but his mind raced. The old Val, the turret, the gunfire, the fighter jets, the screams, the explosions, Anne…it brought back some memories.
"...repeat, Karl Tango has surrounded us," radioed Schulz, "Requesting immediate reinforcements--"
In 1966, Schulz's head exploded, showering Mark and Erich in blood. Seconds later, a second helicopter exploded, its crew screaming as they were incinerated and shredded. Bullets pierced the windshields of the third helicopter, killing both pilots. That helicopter promptly lost altitude and slammed into the ground, its rotors flying off in all directions.
One rotor sliced clean through the back of Erich's gunship, severing the helicopter's tail. Alarms blared in the cockpit as the pilots struggled to maintain altitude, but without the stabilizers they were going down, no matter what they tried.
"Hold on to something!" shouted Anne.
They slammed into the ground, and Erich blacked out. He slowly regained consciousness. His vision was all blurry. The shouts of his fellow soldiers and Chaw Thai insurgents were distant and drowned out by the loud ringing deafening his ears. His limbs were numb. Slowly, his vision returned, and he found himself still strapped into his seat. The fuselage rested on the bed of grass, thankfully upright. Schulz's body and those of the two gunners were still strapped in, mangled and burned, but Anne and Mark were gone. He fumbled with his seatbelt, succeeding in releasing himself after some struggling. Erich picked up his rifle and grenade belt and stumbled out into the elephant grass, boots splashing through the mud and water.
Around him lay the remains of the other gunships, smoke still rising from their wrecks. Soldiers rustled through the grass in all directions, moving too quickly for Erich to identify them as Roman or Chaw Thai. Bursts of gunfire appeared randomly, and men cried out in German, Greek, and Thai as they fell. Most of them fell without saying a word, only a bang and the thud of a bullet tearing through flesh telling him another man had fallen.
Erich staggered through the grass, clutching his gun. He fumbled with the loading mechanism, but he couldn't get a bullet in the chamber. A Roman soldier rushed past him, only to be shot in the back and splash into the water near him. He stumbled over the bloodied bodies of other Romans as bullets whizzed over his head.
Mark burst out of the grass and charged towards him, eyes wild. He was screaming something at the top of his lungs, but Erich couldn't hear him. Mark shook him by the shoulder, silently screaming even louder. Dazed, Erich didn’t know what he was saying.
Then blood burst from the back of his head, and Mark crumpled to the ground, dead. His blank eyes stared up at Erich, as if still comprehending why Erich didn't answer him.
Behind him, two Chaw Thai insurgents approached him, guns pointed at his head. They barked something in Thai, but he was still shell-shocked. He couldn’t hear what they were saying. It was probably a demand to put his hands over his head. That demand flew over his head just as everything else did while he stared at the two insurgents. One of them was just a young boy, no more than ten, holding an assault rifle. And it was the boy who was shouting the demands at him and aggressively brandishing his gun. Did he really believe what he was saying, or was he forced to do this?
The older Chaw Thai took a bullet between the eyes, and the boy flinched. Instinctively, Erich loaded his gun, although he didn’t want to. He knew what was coming. His arms wavered, his rifle shaking in place. He tried holding it back, putting down the gun.
“No…” he told himself. “Not this again…”
He tried his best. Part of him didn’t want to shoot this boy. Another part of him wanted to kill this Chaw Thai terrorist who killed his friend, to get justice for Mark. He knew what he did. He knew what happened. He didn’t want to go back.
Fear overtook his mind again. Fear curled his finger around the trigger. To the deepest, darkest parts of his mind, this boy was a threat. This boy would kill him. This was what soldiers do. They kill. He kills. He would kill. And he would gladly do it.
He shot the boy in the head and silently watched as he fell back into the mud.
"No time!" shouted Anne, appearing out of the grass, "We have to
get out of here!" shouted Hermann. “We got multiple hostiles inbound, ETA one minute. Orders, sir! Now!”
“Take the shot,” said Erich without another moment of hesitation.
“I don’t have a clear shot!” replied Hermann.
“I don’t care where you aim, break them up!” snapped Erich. “Understand?”
In 1985, the young man hesitated, wrestling with the decision to fire on a friend. Erich admired his hesitation. He wouldn’t have done that in 1966. But times had changed. Desperate times called for desperate measures. And although he was 19 years older, he was still that same scared young man deep down in his mind.
Hermann took a deep breath. “Affirmative.”
He let loose a short burst of automatic gunfire. Armor-piercing rounds strafed the dirt and concrete around the women, forcing Olga to back off. Anne then delivered a roundhouse kick to her head, knocking her out cold. She didn’t have much time to relax, though, for several battalions of enemy troops appeared on the bridge, making their way towards UN Island, backed up by tanks and armored vehicles swiveling their turrets in Erich’s direction. Hermann’s turret took out the first few battalions, and a flyby from Friedrich took out another tank, but the enemy had more reinforcements ready and continued its advance.
“Get the bird in the air!” shouted Anne, picking up another gun. “I’ll get on the next one!”
“You heard her!” shouted Shirley, climbing in, “Get us in the air!”
The pilot pulled the throttle back, and the helicopter slowly climbed. Before it was out of reach, Erich jumped in and shut the door, his hand forced.
“Mind telling me what that was about?” Erich demanded.
“I was saving your skins,” said Shirley, “Director’s orders.”
“The situation was under control!” Erich retorted. “I broke them up! I was going to hold them!”
“You weren’t,” said Shirley, “There’s too many of them. You can’t win that fight, Director. I was just pulling you out while you still could.”
“If you’d given me more time, we wouldn’t have to leave the Director like this!” said Erich.
“You’re out of line,” calmly replied the ambassador.
“This is my operation!” replied Erich.
“You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment,” said Shirley, “It’s Wat Hunsen again. The Director knows what she’s doing.”
On the ground, Anne continued firing at the approaching troops, with each bullet downing another soldier and taking one step back to the second helicopter. Nearby, Olga stirred, but she was still out of the fight.
Erich picked up the radio. “Eisen, Blut, we need another air strike on that bridge ASAP, over!”
“On it, Director,” replied Friedrich, “We’ll be right—”
At that moment, a missile struck Ganz’s jet, and it exploded in a deadly fireball right in front of Friedrich’s jet, which flew right into it. The flames and shrapnel scorched and scraped at the bottom of his wings, but he barely maintained altitude.
“Frak!” he cursed. “Break—break—break! We got bogeys in the air, repeat, bogeys in the air! Blut is down, repeat, Blut is down, over!”
“Do you have visual? Over,” asked Erich.
Friedrich looked around him, trying to see who was shooting at him.
“Negative, Director!” he replied. “No visual, but I got radar contact. Two bogeys on my five, likely MiG-29s. Moving to intercept, over.”
“Negative, Eisen,” replied Erich, “That is not your mission. Fall back, repeat, fall back and engage the troops on the bridge—”
“With all due respect,” Friedrich cut him off, “My mission is to protect you. Those MiGs have got to go. You won’t make it out with them in the air. Over and out.”
He turned off his radio and banked hard to the left just as a MiG screeched overhead, missing him by less than a couple meters. He thought he saw the enemy pilot smugly giving him the finger as he passed by. Friedrich cursed.
“Let’s show you how real pilots fly,” he said.
He gunned the throttle and dived towards downtown, where the tallest skyscrapers were densely clustered in a small area. The MiG wasn’t far behind, trying to get a lock on him. Friedrich made sure the enemy pilot couldn’t get one. He bobbed up and down and randomly turned in arbitrary directions at every intersection. He could keep this up until he ran out of fuel, but he just needed to buy time for the evacuation.
The radar beeped frantically, a blip registering on his two-o’clock and rapidly closing. He glanced in the direction of the blip and saw a small object, trailing smoke behind, snaking its way towards him. Muttering a small curse, he pulled up and to the right just as a missile slammed into the building next to him, raining debris down on the street. Another MiG screamed past, guns blazing. Bullets riddled his wing, otherwise missing everything important. He had forgotten about the second MiG, and he hadn’t seen it until it was almost on top of him. He should’ve done better.
Friedrich banked to the left and dropped back into the urban jungle, looking for the two enemies. Between skyscrapers he made out the flashes of black-colored metal as one MiG zipped past, trying to get behind him. Radar went haywire, blocked by the towering steel spires around him, so he turned it off. It was just him and his jet, flying by eye with no electronics to distract him.
He pulled back on the throttle and climbed above the skyscrapers, looking down on downtown and its grid. From up here, it was easy to see where the other MiG was located. It had foolishly clung to the ground, believing that Friedrich was doing the same thing because he was outnumbered two to one. But he wasn’t an average pilot.
He lined up his sights, and his targeting system beeped as it registered a lock.
“Lock and load,” he muttered, pulling the trigger.
The jet rocked slightly, while a small thud told him a missile had detached from his wing. Seconds later, a streak of white smoke radiated out from his jet, making its way towards the unsuspecting MiG. A small explosion raining twisted metal over the streets of Vienna indicated that the missile had hit its target.
“One bogey down,” he radioed, “One to go. Over.”
“Good work, Eisen,” said Erich, “Now please—”
Gunfire raked the ground and water under the helicopter. Tank shells impacted a nearby car, tearing it apart in an orange inferno.
Shirley grabbed the radio. “—we’re under attack!” she said. “We’ve got a MiG closing in, and we really need that air support now, over!”
“Get us up to the clouds!” said Erich. “We’ll lose them there!”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything!” replied the pilot.
The water under the helicopter erupted in a spray of bullets and mist. Screaming a prayer off at the top of his lungs, Hermann fired off several shots at the approaching MiG, which overshot them and quickly doubled back. Next time, that pilot would use missiles, and he wouldn’t miss. They were climbing towards the clouds and safety, but the clouds were too far away. Where was their air support?
Erich hugged Angela closely. “It’s okay, Angie,” he said, “It’s okay. Close your eyes.”
The MiG closed in, and Hermann desperately fired, hoping to shoot the pilot. Shirley muttered her own prayer, hoping that someone would hear her. Elisabeth Alexandra and her mother stoically sat, not giving in to the panic consuming the other soldiers. Erich closed his eyes, clutching his daughter in his arms.
Olga slowly regained consciousness. Her limbs were numb, and she could barely pull herself back onto her feet. Her senses were out of whack. Her vision was blurry, and her hearing was inundated by a loud ringing noise. That kick to the face really hurt. She needed to hit back. But where was Anne?
She looked around her, seeing friendly soldiers walking up to her.
“Are you okay, comrade?” asked one man.
“Da…tovarisch,” she replied groggily, “Give me something to shoot..”
Looking further, she saw two helicopters taking off from UN Island. One of them, already high in the air, was desperately climbing towards the clouds to escape the incoming MiG roaring down the Danube. The other was still near the ground, and she noticed a certain woman climbing inside. Anne got onboard, and the helicopter lurched away, putting distance between it and the troops.
Olga had to stop them before they got away. The royals were already out of reach, but her primary target, Anne, was still in range. She couldn’t let her leave Vienna, not after what she did in Prague to her parents. She had prepared for this moment for many years, and she didn’t want to let it go to waste.
As Anne’s helicopter ascended, a soldier handed Olga her discarded rocket launcher. She loaded it at once. The projectile she used was long range and radar guided, so she didn’t have to worry. She hoisted the weapon onto her shoulder and lined up the sights with Anne’s head. Her finger tightened around the trigger.
“This is for Prague,” she said, pulling the trigger.
As the rocket streaked towards Anne’s helicopter, the MiG got a lock on Erich’s helicopter, and the pilot fired his missile.
- 1
I would suggest Hiekikkowokan. If I may quote the second verse:
"In het jaar des Heeren '84, oost en west bunt niet eendrachtig"
Or:
"In the year of our Lord '84, East and west aren't unanimous."
For a chase I would suggest "Oerend Hard" or "Deurdonderen", meaning "incredibly fast" and "keep going"
That might work better as the song I attach to the 80s update. It relates more to the war in general than to Vienna.
I might include that in a future chase scene. Just remind me the next time I do an intense story arc!
Friedrich and Ganz would go on to inspire the film series The Quick and the Angry, launching countless sequels.
Good to see Olga doing better than narrating against Anne, but somehow I see it more plausible that Anne will jump out of the exploding helicopter and shoot her midair than her just getting blown up.
Good to see Olga doing better than narrating against Anne, but somehow I see it more plausible that Anne will jump out of the exploding helicopter and shoot her midair than her just getting blown up.
I was going for Top Gun, but that works too.
Well, if Anne jumps out of the helicopter, she'll fall to her death. Can't have our unofficial protagonist dying less than 40 years into the story, can we?
wat
oh and thanks for the cliffhanger! N-not like I wanted to know what happens next or something! baka
What? I’m a man who knows his anime and it’s memes
My Guess is the Annioniaverse is bleeding into His again. During this time in history the Occupation Zones of China(With the exact names mentioned in the update) reunified under Austrian Rule.
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Well, the only anime I've watched are the Dragon Ball ones and Pokemon, so...it's OVER 9000!
Or maybe it's the...reverse. You'll get more details in a couple decades.
The End of History, Part 32
Vienna
It was a common trope in the movies or books for time to slow down as a potentially fatal event was about to occur, giving one time to contemplate their life and curse themselves for not being a better person. Their life would flash before their eyes, reminding them of why exactly they were going to die. It was also to make them feel guilty about some of their life choices which lead up to their death so that they could promise to change if they somehow didn't die. Since this was real life, Diana didn’t experience any of this. In fact, everything happened in the blink of an eye, giving her very little time to react.
Friedrich threw his jet into the path of the missile heading straight for her, and the ensuing explosion pushed the helicopter to the side. Luckily, the pilot managed to maintain altitude. As the MiG shot by underneath, Hermann opened fire, landing an unexpected shot on the cockpit which killed the pilot. The enemy fighter jet tumbled earthwards, splashing down in the Danube.
Olga’s rocket smashed into the side of Anne’s helicopter, tearing off the tail rotor and damaging the engine. Smoke spewed from the engine, engulfing the main rotors. The helicopter struggled to maintain altitude, but without the stabilizers it was no use. It plummeted and crashed into the water, the still-spinning rotors flinging in all directions. Before Diana could see if anybody survived the crash, they entered the clouds, and Vienna disappeared.
“NO!” shouted Diana, sobbing. “NO!”
They couldn't turn back now. It was too dangerous to go back.
Salzburg - later
Wilhelm Kurtz sat on a bench, looking eastwards. The partly cloudy afternoon sky was stained with pillars of smoke rising from burning villages and towns. Jets and transports took off every fifteen minutes from the runway, heading north towards the main fighting around Berlin. Soldiers and technicians milled around, making small talk with each other about popular culture when not loading equipment onto trucks and helicopters. That was all they ever talked about here. Starkrieg, Eliminator, even Ghostbusters…they just wanted to go home and live a normal life.
He turned back to watching the sky. They should be back by now, he told himself. It was just a simple evacuation. It was just a simple evacuation, he reminded himself. There was no way they could’ve messed that up. There was no way Erich could've screwed up so badly. He realized he was worrying too much. Maybe it was because of Friedrich?
Friedrich Kurtz…where to begin? He was always the patriot in the family. Friedrich always looked up to Wilhelm, closely following his service in Siam. Wilhelm came to hate that blasted place by the end of his tour, but Friedrich adored him, called him a hero, ignoring the gritty and grimy reality of that hellhole. Friedrich always told him that he signed up for the KL because of what Wilhelm did.
The steady beating of helicopter blades interrupted his reflection. He shot to his feet, scanning the horizon for any sight of the helicopters and Friedrich. Yet the only thing he heard was the sound of one helicopter fast approaching. Not two helicopters, and not two jets. An old Val appeared from amidst the clouds and made its way towards the runway. As it approached, Wilhelm noticed it was scarred and dented with burn marks and bullet holes, as if it had been in a fierce fight.
Erich jumped out as soon as it touched down. Wilhelm immediately approached him, hoping he wouldn’t confirm the worst.
Erich looked him right in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he said, “We lost Friedrich and the Director.”
Wilhelm silently glared at him for five seconds, not saying a single word. Then he turned around and stormed away.
Erich stood there as Wilhelm stormed off. He tried to follow him. He needed to explain—
Shirley caught his arm. “Director,” she said, “Leave him. Now’s not a good time.”
“Right,” said Erich, doubling back to the helicopter.
“You know, Friedrich did the right thing,” said Shirley, “He made the most of his situation and took what he believed was the better option. One of our helicopters was going to go down. It was either the royals or the Director.”
“Ambassador, I think you should go,” Erich said in a stern voice, “The UN needs you.”
Shirley nodded. “I guess they do,” she said.
She climbed out, Diana following behind her.
Angela helped Victoria Louise and Elisabeth Alexandra out next.
“Thank you,” said the Kaiserin, “For everything.”
Turning to Erich, she said, “You’ve raised a wonderful daughter. It’s not very often that we can express our thanks to people like you.”
“Just doing my job, Your Majesty,” said Erich.
A car with the Hohenzollern coat of arms printed on its door pulled up next to them. The driver got out and opened one of the back doors.
“Looks like our ride is here,” said Elisabeth Alexandra, “Dad will be so glad.”
“I bet,” said Angela.
Victoria Louise got into the car. The driver, his hand on the door, looked at Elisabeth Alexandra, waiting for her.
Elisabeth Alexandra stuffed her hands in her pockets, looking for something. “I’m not sure if this will repay our debt to you,” she said.
“There’s no debt,” said Angela, “It’s easier that way.”
“No, please,” said Elisabeth Alexandra.
She took out her Walkman and pushed it into Angela’s hands. “Take it,” she said, “I don’t listen to it much anyways. Got all of my favorite songs on the tape inside.”
“Uh…thanks?” stammered Angela. “I really don’t feel comfortable taking something from my next Kaiser.”
“Just think of me as a friend,” said Elisabeth Alexandra, smiling, “It’s easier that way.”
Angela smiled back. “Take care,” she said.
Elisabeth Alexandra got in the car. “Take care of your dad,” she said.
The driver shut the door, got in, and drove away, leaving Angela and Erich on the tarmac. The assistant director looked at her.
“Honey, you almost gave your mom and me a heart attack,” he sternly intoned.
“I know,” said Angela.
“I don’t know how you managed to get excused for two straight quarters,” said Erich, "Or how you got to Vienna without anybody noticing."
“I know,” said Angela.
“I should probably ground you,” said Erich.
“I know,” said Angela.
“But the Kaiser will probably have my head,” said Erich.
“I know,” said Angela.
“Let’s just go home,” said Erich.
“I miss home,” said Angela.
They walked off the tarmac.
Diana sat down on the concrete, watching the airport operate like a finely tuned machine. She observed planes taking off and landing, loading and unloading weapons and soldiers. She watched vehicles rolling by, delivering equipment and fuel to the planes and helicopters. She watched crews hurry from one end of the runway to the other, following more planes. It was just like when she was a kid. Her mother used to take her to the airport in Frankfurt named after her, so they could watch the planes together. Diana always wondered why they would name that airport after her. Whenever she brought it up, Anne always said the same thing with a smile.
“I’m your mother, Anna,” she would say, “That’s enough reason.”
And then they would laugh. Of course, she learned the truth as she grew older. But there was something about those days when they would just sit down on a bench and watch the planes, where they didn’t need to worry about anything. In Frankfurt, they had each other. Here at Salzburg, Diana only had herself. They failed to bring her mother home.
Shirley sat down next to her. “Diana, I know it’s hard for you right now…” she began.
“Leave me alone,” said Diana.
“Diana, please,” said Shirley, “I’ve known your mother for many years. It is possible that—”
“She’s dead?” said Diana. “Because of us?”
“I never said that,” said Shirley, “What I meant to say that there is a chance she could’ve survived the crash.”
“Were we watching the same helicopter?” said Diana.
“She’s your mother,” said Shirley, “You should know what her limits are.”
“Unfortunately, she’s been quite out of it lately,” said Diana, “She did just emerge from a coma.”
“Let’s just not rush to conclusions,” said Shirley, “If she’s dead, we’ll find a body. Just have hope she’ll survive.”
“How can I have hope?” asked Diana. “This has been going on since the assassination last year. For most of that year she’s been in captivity, and we had no idea where she was until she was very close to death. Then she was in a coma for the next few months, and when she woke up, we’re all stuck in Vienna. And now she’s dead or captured again. We spent a whole year looking after her! We lost many good men and women. We had one chance to bring her home for good, after so much hardship. And we failed! We utterly failed! I failed!”
“Diana—” began Shirley.
“LEAVE!” shouted Diana.
The ambassador shut up. Leaving the young agent alone, she got up, straightened her coat, and walked away.
Constantinople
Otto’s phone rang. It wasn’t the red telephone linked to Valentin’s office (he had cut the connection yesterday). Nor was it the one reserved for the press or selected civilians. It wasn’t even the one reserved for his cabinet. It was the personal line reserved for his family, which meant something important had happened in Vienna.
He picked it up. “Yeah?” he said.
“We got them,” said a servant, “They’re a little shaken, but they’re alive.”
Otto smiled. “Thank you,” he said, “I’ll tell your manager to give you a raise. Arrange a car to take me to Saint Wilhelmina International when they’re an hour out.”
“On it, sir,” replied the servant.
He hung up and leaned back in his chair. Guess God wasn’t so cruel after all. He'd kept Otto's family safe, and now He was bringing them home.
Vienna
Olga strolled down the rocky bank of UN Island, towards the location where her soldiers had crowded around pieces of twisted metal washing up. She absentmindedly kicked aside a piece of metal that seemed to have made up part of a door; the handle and the star roundel of the KL were still present on one side of it.
“Comrade,” reported a soldier, gesturing to a group of Roman soldiers standing among them, their faces bloodied, “Your orders?”
Olga looked at the men who were now her captives. They looked scared. Their uniforms were in tatters, and their arms were bruised and broken from the impact with the water. Some of them shook from the shock or the water’s cold temperature. They didn’t look like the monsters that Pravda made them out to be. They were just men, men who now raised their hands over their heads as best as they could. They wanted to surrender, to live.
“Our orders were to take no prisoners,” said Olga, unflinching.
Without waiting, the soldiers barked orders to the Roman prisoners in German, forcing them to face the Danube. Then they raised their rifles and shot them in the back of their heads. The gunshots echoed throughout the empty city, dissipating into the sky as the bodies tumbled into the river and were swiftly carried downstream by the current.
“Comrade!” shouted another soldier from further down. “I found another survivor!”
Olga and her soldiers quickly joined him. She noticed that the young man was scared, his rifle pointed at the head of the unconscious woman who had just washed up. She nudged the woman on her back with her foot, revealing the face of Anne Frank.
“Our orders were to take no prisoners,” said Olga, her cold face still unflinching, “Except for the Valkyrie.”
Without waiting for further instructions, the other soldiers hauled her off the rocks and carried her to a waiting truck. Olga watched as her nemesis was dropped like a sack of potatoes inside the back of the vehicle. She climbed in after them, and as the truck drove off, she stared at the face of the woman who had so scarred her life. She couldn’t care less for her life, but Valentin had promised her everything if she brought her back alive, and Irina was counting on her to make their lives better and avenge their parents. She had done it. There would be no more hardship for either of them. Home would welcome them as heroes. The revolution was triumphant today, cementing the superiority of workers’ solidarity over the capitalist system, though she couldn’t care less about party dogma. It was just words, wasn’t it? She wanted revenge, and she got it.
I'm expecting electro-shock therapy.
Torture 2: Electric Boogaloo
Anne can't catch a break in a job like this. She probably just wants to go home and get back to writing.
You must mean "enhanced interrogation techniques," right?
Round 2 of XA-1005C coming right up!
[REDACTED]. Happy now?