anonymous4401: Like I didn't do that before
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April 20th, 1948:
Gunfire had been a noise almost unheard in the city of Moscow, the heart of a world spanning empire the likes of which no one had ever seen or dreamed of before. So tightly was it held in the iron fist of a tyrannical, and decidedly bloody regime. Revolts, riots, protests, and demonstrations that had ravaged other parts of the Empire never once occurred in Moscow. Elite Guardsmen patrolled the streets, casually boasting their deadly AK-45s and other, less advanced weapons. NKVD agents lurked in the shadows, making sure order was maintained.
Fear, some would say in whispers, was what kept the city in line.
But today there was chaos.
As the combined 7th and 8th Shock Armies descended upon Moscow waving the war banner, thousands of civilians rose up, swelling their ranks.
From deep within the confines of the Kremlin, Stukov and Azuren could hear only muted or muffled explosions and gunfire.
The pictures and ornaments decorating the room rattled gently as a tank shell exploded nearby.
Face grim set and contemplative, Stukov stared down at the map of the capital city. News of Konev's coup had reached Moscow belatedly. His agents within the Shock Army had been either too incompetent or too idealistic to report this rising up of the military.
Commissar of Intelligence Berzin had paied for this failure with his life. Amazingly, he had committed suicide, hanging himself in his office.
Before the mobs do it for him, Stukov thought darkly.
Another tank blast followed by a spit of machine gun fire floated into the room.
“The rebels have seized control of most of the eastern sectors of the city. Rioting and looting have broken out,” Shaposhnikov reported, staring intently ahead of him, not daring to meet the Emperor’s gaze.
Slowly, Stukov stroked his chin, “Reinforcements?”
Azuren answered, holding Feodor protectively in her arms, “The closest loyal army is in Iraq.”
“How long before the Guard is forced back to the Kremlin?”
“They outnumber and outgun us by a wide margin,” another blast, “They may be able to breach the outer defenses of the Kremlin in minutes.”
“Escape?” Stukov continued staring at the map, as if he were not phased by the grim news.
Shaposhnikov sighed, “Konev’s tanks will make any escape impossible, I’m afraid.”
“He’s right, Alexei,” Azuren said flatly.
Stukov whipped his hand to his belt, pulling out a pistol and firing half a dozen rounds into Shaposhnikov. The general stumbled backwards and collapsed without a word.
Azuren glanced down at the dead general, holding Feodor so he couldn’t see. Finally, she looked back up at Stukov, “Was that really necessary?”
Stukov shook his head, “Not really. Come on, we’re getting out of here.” He gestured and walked out of the room. The rate and volume of the gunfire had grown louder.
Walking side by side through the halls of the Kremlin, the Emperor and Empress made their way past countless terrified personnel and fanatic Guardsmen. Four of them followed close behind, weapons at the ready.
After several minutes, Stukov reached a large bolted door at the end of a forgotten hallway.
Azuren looked quizzically, gently stroking Feodor to comfort him, “The old dungeon? You want us to hide in there?”
Stukov opened the door and smiled, “Don’t worry.”
“If you say so.”
Stukov swung the door open. A cool breeze washed over them. The air was damp with moisture.
Without saying another word, Stukov quickly stepped down the stairs, followed closely by Azuren and the Guardsmen.
“Did you make an escape route in here?” Azuren asked.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
The old dungeon had been long left unused. The last occupant had been the Nazi commando Otto Skorzeny almost a decade earlier. But instead of a dungeon, and immense laboratory spread out in front of them.
Azuren looked around, “You…?”
Stukod nodded, “I did.”
Stukov wasted little time. Explosions of artillery blasts would be plainly heard. Dust and bits of debris floated down from the ceiling.
“We need to hurry before the power is knocked out.”
Stukov pointed to one of the Guardsmen and then to a large bank of computers, “You, activate that machine.”
The Guardsmen nodded and activated it. The whole array of machines seemed to roar to life. Overhead, the hanging lights dimmed at the sudden increase in power usage.
Stepping over to a control console, Stukov flipped through several switches. In front of the control panel, a circular layer of metal with countless wires and tubes attached to it stood.
“Is that a time machine, Emperor?” one of the Guards asked.
Stukov nodded absently, “It is. I’ve been slowly reconstructing the old New York device.”
”Our way out?” asked Azuren.
Stukov nodded.
“We’re abandoning everything?”
Stukov flipped a final switch and turned to face her, “Everything is falling apart. Even if we can manage to escape from Konev, his coup will spread throughout the military until we lose control of the military. And the military has always been what kept the order outside of Russia.”
Azuren sighed softly, “I suppose you’re right,” she glanced down at Feodor, “After all, he needs a chance to grow up, especially with parents.”
Stukov set a timer and the explosions overhead grew even louder, until it seemed like the ceiling would collapse on top of them.
“Hurry! It won’t be long until the power goes out again!”
Stukov and Azuren took their places at the center of the circle. The Guardsmen hesitated, shifting idly where they stood.
Stukov smiled and motioned them forward, “Come. We’ll need your loyal service.” The Guardsmen eagerly stepped up, taking positions around the Royal Family.
Slowly, the whine of the time machine charging up grew until it filled the whole room. Feodor began crying.
Suddenly, a sphere of blue light wrapped around them, engulfing the six occupants of the circle. Stukov looked at Azuren. Their eyes met, each staring deep into the other’s soul.
Whatever awaited them, wherever they were going, they would face it together.
The blue sphere crackled, and they disappeared from the room. Vanished from existence. They were hurtling through the twisting nether of the space-time continuum. Together, they had shaped a world to their will. They had built a country into a superpower, led mighty armies to victory, and had created a new world order that would never been forgotten.
But this existence had faded away into nothingness now. The past they had conquered, the present they had commanded, and the future they had created; all washed away in the chronological influences of time.
The End
