President Kerensky looked out over Moscow from the window of his state room, a look of sadness on his face. The cold of winter always reminded him of how delicate the position of the Russian Republic was. Despite nearly twenty years of republican rule, Russia was still in shambles. It still amazed Kerensky that Siberia was still obeying the central authority, well, sometimes.
It occured to him, that maybe, just maybe, he was the only thing holding the Republic together was himself. The force of his idealism and patriotism inspired Russians, young and old, to support the Republic. Kerensky quickly banished such thoughts, he never liked to take credit for the Republic. It was simply his duty to Russia to do his best to keep it intact.
Sighing, Kerensky put on his hat. He had a 10:30 apointment with Marshal Denikin to observe new night fighting manuvers. Despite all the troubles, the army was actualy shaping up a bit. Still, it was not good to be out on the streets late at night, even in Moscow.
Kerensky got into his state vehicle, and the driver pulled them out onto the street. At the first stop sign, a lone gunman walked up to the window, and fired four shots from a pistol. The first shot struck Kerensky in the jaw. The second struck his sholder. The last two simply grazed his leg, but the deed was done. Kerensky opened the door and slumped against the pavement, even as a nearby police officer gunned down the attacker. Kerensky tried to utter some last words, but his jaw was shattered, and within a minute, the great leader of Russia was dead.