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I'm looking forward to Hitler creating the Rogue Desk. Truly an epic story of taking down an entire nation all for a bigger desk.
:thinking emoji:But if Mars is the true throne of emperors, why did you move your throne back to Earth in the end?
YO UNDERESTIMATE MY LOYALTY TO THE REVOLUTION
*Deja Vu starts playing*
Who would win?
Witko, or one Old boi in need of a desk.
luxury is a sign of capitalism!Equalists don't deserve the luxury of a naughty corner.
.......
BOB THE BUILDER
Yeah but it was like 10 updates before we got back to the presentWe already have the extensive flashback episodes, though they're hardly filler.
"His meme power has tripled... q-quadrupled... no it's..."
"TIMES TEEEEEENNNN!"
KAIO-KEK TIMES TEEEEENNNN!
No, he deserves a desk damn it!No, comrade, they are true believers in Lenin and Marx. The filthy capitalist dogs are those who believe Glorious Comrade Molotov needs a blatant symbol of capitalist consumption.
Good, use your hate!PURGE THE HERETICS!
I'M LuKe sKYwAlker, I'm hErE tO rEsCue yoU.
I love memes.
Top meme has been achieved.
PREQUEL MEMES!!!! YES!
UNLIMITED MEME POWEEEERRRRRRR!
And then it will be followed by Mission Impossible: Rogue Desk, where Tom Cruise literally fights a desk.
I think they're more than doomed...
hmmm...
DON'T TRY IT!
GAS GAS STEP ON THE GAS
Hail desk! Cut off one desk, two more shall take its place!
But at least they were central to the plot, in a way.
IT'S OVER 9000!
Only capitalists have any need for a desk!
Let the hate flow through you!
sips space cow milk
I love meritocracy. I love the Reich!I love memes.
The End of History, Part 50
December 22
“…break me out?” Anne asked.
“Is it that hard to explain?” Olga said.
“Do you know how fortified this place is?” Anne said.
“I’ve broken out of worse,” Olga said, “And that’s not what I expected the Valkyrie to say.”
“For the last time, I’m not the Valkyrie!” Anne insisted.
“And I’m not the Firebird,” Olga said, “I’m Olga Kirova. But then again, you knew that.”
Two more guards burst into the room, and Olga immediately shot them. She picked up an assault rifle and tossed it to Anne, picking up another one for herself.
“You probably know how to use Russian guns,” Olga said, “Because like it or not, we’re getting out of here.”
“Why are you doing this?” Anne asked.
“Oh, did I forget to mention I wanted to defect?” Olga said. “Because unless something’s happened in the last thirteen years, I’ve still got Mom’s Roman citizenship. Technically, I’m as Roman as you are.”
“Doesn’t cover Vienna,” Anne said.
“We don’t have time to talk about the whole righting a wrong thing!” Olga said.
“You’re righting the wrong wrong!” Anne said.
“How would I go about making up for Vienna?” Olga retorted. “Repairing the damage? We both know they won’t let me within a mile of that place.”
“You could start by apologizing to my daughter,” Anne said, “And to Pavel Novak. He and his sister have a lot to tell you.”
Olga rolled her eyes. “Save it for later!”
“Please tell me you have a plan,” Anne said.
“Like I always do,” Olga cheerfully replied.
Anne smiled. “You sound just like your mother.”
Anne heard the music, and the smile vanished. “Furen Zeppelin?” she asked.
“One of Mom’s favorites,” Olga explained, “You can thank me later.”
“Your mom hated this song,” Anne scoffed.
“Well, I can’t change it now!” Olga said. “I’m sure she understands!”
They stepped into the hallway, facing the approaching soldiers. Without wasting a second, they opened fire.
---
A security guard entered Valentin’s office. “Comrade General Secretary, sir,” he began, “I have very bad news.”
Valentin dramatically swiveled his chair around to face him. “You better not have given Molotov that desk. Do you have any idea how hard it is to equally distribute those—”
“Something’s wrong at the palace,” the guard explained, “We’ve lost all communication, and the countermeasures are offline.”
Valentin’s face paled. He shot out of his chair and approached the guard, his nose inches away from the quivering young man’s face. “Is it the Valkyrie?” he demanded, his fists clenching.
The guard reluctantly looked him in the eye. “We’re not sure,” he stammered, “We think she has a collaborator.”
“A COLLABORATOR?!” Valentin screamed.
“I should just show you,” the guard said.
They walked to a nearby room, where two other guards stared at CCTV footage. All screens were filled with static.
“You better have a good explanation for this,” Valentin said, “Or I’m going to—”
“Hit the rewind,” the first guard told a second guard.
The second man pushed a few buttons, and one of the screens rewound to a point before the camera feed cut out. It was footage of the corridor outside Anne’s room. Valentin cursed himself for not putting any cameras inside the room. As he watched, Olga walked up to the door and disappeared inside. A couple minutes passed, and the guards followed her inside, only to be immediately shot. The feed cut out.
Valentin cursed. “Firebird’s gone rogue, as I’ve expected. We have a Code Red in progress. Execute Contingency Plan 2.”
“How many do you want me to deploy?” asked the guard.
“Everybody,” Valentin said, “I will personally accompany them. There may be a chance I have to execute Contingency Plan 1.”
---
Olga’s gun clicked. “I’m out!” she shouted.
She turned to Anne, but she had already tossed her gun aside. “You know, that never held your mother back. She never complained.”
Olga rolled her eyes. “Are you judging me?”
Anne shrugged. “Maybe.”
Five soldiers rounded the corner and ran right into Anne. She dispatched the first man with a punch to the face and then backhanded a second soldier with her other arm. The third soldier tried aiming his rifle, but Anne grabbed the barrel and pointed it at the fourth soldier just as it went off, hitting him in the chest. She then kicked him in the chest, ripping the gun right out of his hands, and shot him in the head. The last soldier drew a knife and charged her from behind, but she simply clubbed him on the head with the rifle.
“Just like that,” Anne said.
“I could do better,” Olga insisted.
“Your mother said the same thing,” Anne said, “And sometimes, she was right.”
Olga picked up the shuffling of approaching footsteps as more soldiers approached them. Before they even rounded the corner, she charged around and lashed out. A low kick swept the first two men off their feet, and while they were in the air Olga’s other leg struck outwards, catching a third soldier in the neck. Without breaking a sweat, she punched a fourth soldier just as the first two soldiers slammed against the floor. As he staggered away, the fifth soldier drew a pistol, but she grabbed the barrel and pointed it away from her as it went off, punching a hole in the wall. Before the soldier could react, she grabbed his knife and stabbed him in the stomach. The fourth soldier also drew his pistol and opened fire, but Olga spun around, using the fifth soldier as a human shield to get close enough to slash his throat. With everybody dead, she let the fourth soldier drop to the floor with a loud thud.
“Well done,” Anne said, “Although your technique was poor, and you could’ve finished in half the time. You know, you could’ve grabbed the fourth guy’s gun.”
“You’re not my mom,” Olga countered.
“Even my daughter could do better,” Anne said.
“Vienna begs to differ,” Olga said.
“As I said, she needs an apology for that,” Anne replied, “I assume you know the way out?”
“Down the hallway, take a left, down the stairs, and so on,” Olga said, “Or we can just jump out the window, actually.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “This isn’t an action movie. You’d just die.”
“Guess we’re not doing that.” Olga trudged down the hallway.
---
Before he could get across the lobby, Valentin heard Dmitry shout his name.
“Hey!” Dmitry shouted, running up to him. “Where are you going?”
“This is an emergency,” Valentin explained, “The Valkyrie’s escaped. Firebird’s gone rogue. They’re collaborating.”
“Two super-spies working together?” Dmitry clicked his tongue. “I sure wonder how you’re going to—”
“Now’s not the time for your jokes, Dmitry!” Valentin shouted. “Now, I must personally go to the palace to execute Plan 1. You’ll stay here and make sure Molotov doesn’t steal a desk.”
“Got it, comrade,” Dmitry said.
By the time he said, that, Valentin had disappeared through the revolving doors.
Dmitry turned to the people around him. “Hey, who wants a free promotion?”
---
Olga found it hard to pay attention to everything going on around her. Her heart beat like crazy, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her body went on autopilot, locating and eliminating targets with extreme prejudice. Her ears tuned out all unnecessary sounds, focusing on noises that betrayed her enemies’ movements. Her limbs lashed out on their own, always finding a face or torso to land on. Occasionally, she’d find a gun in her hands, which she’d immediately use to take out half a dozen soldiers at a time, not wasting any bullets, before she found herself empty-handed again. Her surroundings were a blur, constantly changing as she and Anne ran through the winding corridors and stairwells of the palace.
“Olga!” Anne shouted, shaking her out of her trance.
Olga blinked twice, and the adrenaline rush evaporated. She felt as heavy as a bag of rocks, and her legs felt like straw. One hand clutched a pistol so tightly she couldn’t feel where her hand ended and the gun began, and her other hand clutched a nearby railing, which told her she was on a staircase, specifically at the bottom. Her eyes sharpened again, making out the large reception room she had just entered. Two large doors on the far side of the room indicated the entrance.
“What…what happened?” she murmured.
“You did fine,” Anne said, “You got us through basically everybody.”
“Everybody?” Olga asked. “But there were probably—”
“At least a hundred soldiers?” Anne replied. “Somewhere around that.”
“Why’d you do that?” Olga asked.
“Do what?” Anne said.
“Break my concentration,” Olga said.
“You dismembered and disemboweled quite a few people upstairs,” Anne explained, “With your bare hands in some cases, I should add. I’m sure the Tsaritsa will have a lot of questions when she moves back in.”
“We’ll worry later,” Olga said.
At that moment, soldiers streamed into the room from every direction, quickly surrounding them. Olga and Anne fired back, shooting the first few, but more replaced them, and they soon ran out of ammunition. Strangely enough, the enemy didn’t shoot back, merely forming a perimeter around them, dozens of automatic weapons aimed at them.
The main doors swung open, and in walked Valentin, flanked by even more soldiers. The General Secretary obviously wasn’t amused. His fists were clenched, his uniform looked like it had been put on in a hurry, and his eyes just burned with fury.
“Well, well, well,” Valentin said, his tone condescending, “If it isn’t Firebird, standing right next to the Valkyrie herself.”
“Cut the supervillain theatrics, Valentin!” Anne shot back.
“I have but one question to ask, Agent Kirova,” Valentin said, ignoring Anne, “Why?”
“You know full well why,” Olga spat, gritting her teeth, “You lied to me!”
“Lies?” Valentin shrugged. “I was only telling you the facts from a certain point of view. Because the Valkyrie did kill your parents. She did shoot your father, technically. And she got your mother killed through incompetence, I must admit, and not pure hatred.”
“INCOMPETENCE?!” Anne screamed. “Do you know who I am? I swear I’ll—”
Valentin stepped forward. “You’re making a mistake, Agent Kirova,” he said, “You don’t know what you’re doing. This is the Valkyrie you’re helping. She’s the face of capitalist savagery, responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocents over four decades. Do you really want to set her free to kill more people?”
“You know, I really think you’re just keeping her here to feed your own ego,” Olga replied, “Otherwise you’d have killed her a while ago. And I’m pretty sure I know the Valkyrie better than you do. She protects innocents and defends their freedom. She doesn’t pledge allegiance to or against an economic system but rather to a set of ideals which hold that all people have the right to live in peace, freedom, and happiness. She may have made a few mistakes, but she’s only human. She may be the Valkyrie, but her kids call her Mom. The Valkyries of old bring those fallen in battle up to Valhalla. The Valkyrie isn’t an angel of death. More importantly, she’s a friend of my mother. I’m sure you remember Tatiana Kirova, Agent of the Tsardom, Her Russian Majesty’s Most Loyal Defender. She was my mother. The Valkyrie didn’t kill her. You did!”
Olga stormed forward, causing the soldiers to step forward in response.
Valentin held up his hands, ordering them back. “As you can see, I’m unarmed,” he said, “Go ahead and kill me. Kill an unarmed old man. But as soon as you pull that trigger, my men will shoot you with so much there won’t be any body left for a burial. Assuming there is one.”
“And the alternative?” Olga asked. “What, you want me to turn on the Valkyrie? Kill her instead of you? Do you really think I’m going to fall for that?”
The General Secretary shook his head. “Nah, I’m not going to ask that of you. The time for that has long passed.”
“Oh, so you’re going to blackmail me with my sister, then,” Olga said, “If I got my supervillain tropes correct, she’s tied up outside and will be brought in here in a couple seconds, and you’ll explain how you’ll kill her if I don’t turn on the Valkyrie.”
“What? No!” Valentin said. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re the villain,” Olga said.
“I see the capitalist lies have gotten to you,” Valentin said, “A shame. You were such a promising agent. No, what I do have is a tape in my pocket. It has a detailed description of Contingency Plan 1. In another pocket is a Walkman to play it.”
Olga’s aim wavered. “Plan 1?”
Valentin nodded, smiling victoriously. “Yes, Plan 1. I suppose you want to know what happened to your father? And how this plan involves you?”
“First off, why do you have a Walkman?” Anne asked. “I mean, aren’t you guys against owning symbols of capitalism?”
The soldiers turned to each other, murmuring in low voices. The General Secretary’s smile immediately vanished, and his face turned various shades of red.
“Stay focused!” Valentin ordered, waving his hands around.
As the equalists were distracted by the comment, Olga attacked Valentin, landing a kick on his leg and slamming the butt of her pistol into his face. Her other arm wrapped around his neck and pulled him close to her. Valentin struggled furiously, but he couldn’t break free. Olga pressed the barrel of her gun to Valentin’s temple.
“Well, I didn’t see that one coming,” Valentin muttered.
“Shut up!” Olga said.
“Nobody move!” Anne shouted, trying to help. “Or he dies! Now get out of our way!”
The soldiers immediately obliged, stepping away from the door. Olga and Anne quickly stepped out into the courtyard and staggered towards the entrance. The General Secretary was much heavier than Olga expected. It was hard to push him along, even though he was at her mercy.
“Please tell me you have a getaway car,” Anne said.
At that moment, a car crashed through the gates and pulled to a screeching halt in front of them. The driver’s window rolled down, revealing Vladimir.
“Get in!” he shouted with the deep voice of a stereotypical action hero. “We’re—”
“Cut the theatrics, Schwarzenegger,” Anne replied.
“How did you—” Vladimir sputtered, changing back to his normal voice.
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little busy here,” Olga said, “Can you help with the trunk?”
Vladimir stared at Valentin. The General Secretary glared back at him.
“You’re all dead,” he spat, “I will make your deaths slow and painful!”
“We’re going to need some duct tape as well,” Olga said.
Vladimir’s face paled. “You didn’t tell me we were abducting the General Secretary himself!” he said.
“It wasn’t part of the plan, but at least we solved the leverage problem,” Olga said.
“LEVERAGE?!” Valentin shouted. “Do you know who I am?! I swear I’ll—”
Olga pistol-whipped him again, and he slumped over, unconscious.
“That should shut him up,” she said, “Now, let’s get out of here.”
“I call shotgun,” Anne said.
“This was my plan!” Olga shouted. “We stand her amidst my achievement!”
“Your mother didn’t complain,” Anne replied, “Then again, she usually drove.”
Olga rolled her eyes and sighed. Then she opened the drivers’ door and pulled Vladimir out. “Get in the back,” she said, “I’m driving.”
Vladimir cursed. “Why do I always get the worst jobs?”
After dumping Valentin in the trunk and locking it, Anne and Olga got in the car. As soldiers poured out of the palace, Olga floored the throttle and sped away.
---
Dmitry walked into Valentin’s now-empty office. He looked behind him, making sure nobody was watching him, and closed the door. He walked around the room, flipping through the old books on Valentin’s bookshelf and picking up framed pictures of his wife and sons. He then walked over to the desk and sat down behind it. The chair wasn’t that comfortable, and the desk was quite cramped (was this what Molotov felt?), but the feeling of sitting there balanced it out. Only the most powerful men in the Soviet Commune got the chance to sit in this chair, behind this desk, from which everything they said and wrote was law. They had power, real power. Dmitry may have ordered troops, but General Secretaries like Lenin, Trotsky, Molotov, Khrushchev, and Brezhnev all ordered generals like him around. They decided the fate of this glorious nation. And now that immense responsibility was his. At least, until Valentin got back.
The phone rang, and Dmitry picked it up. “Hello?” he asked.
“Minister Yazov, is that you?” a soldier said.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Dmitry said.
“They’ve taken the General Secretary as a hostage,” the soldier said, “We’ve done everything we could to stop them, but they got away.”
Dmitry’s childish grin turned into a grimacing scowl. “Did you try everything?” he said. “Including the helicopters?”
“They shot them down,” the soldier said.
“WHAT?!” Dmitry said.
“We don’t know how,” the soldier replied, “And I think the extra firepower only increased the collateral damage. Estimates are in the hundreds, possibly even thousands. I think the incendiary rounds were a mistake. What do you want me to tell Pravda?”
“Tell them…” Dmitry’s voice trailed off.
Valentin was an idiot. He had gotten himself captured, somehow, by his prized prisoner and his best KGB agent, who had just fled town. How humiliating was that? What would happen if the public found out that a General Secretary had been captured by their hated enemy? No, he couldn’t tell them that. But somebody had to sit in his chair. Dmitry mulled over his options. He could just say he was filling in the job until they got back Valentin, but that would be acknowledging he had been captured, and nobody would take him seriously afterwards. The Party had already begun doubting his leadership after that nuclear debacle in October. This would be fatal for his leadership. No, Valentin should not and could not return to his job. He may have been Dmitry’s friend, but the proletarian revolution came first. That was what equalism was all about, wasn’t it?
“Tell them that the General Secretary was killed in a botched coup by reactionary officers,” Dmitry explained, “And that as of this moment, I, Dmitry Yazov, the Minister of Defense, will be assuming the duties of the office of the General Secretary and Chairman of the Equalist Party of the Soviet Commune (or whatever the full name is).”
He slammed down the phone and reclined in his chair. His face twisted back into that childish grin he had when he entered. This was his office now. This was his desk. He was now the General Secretary, the most powerful man in Russia.
Be careful not to choke on your ambitions,
I look forward to Valentin acting superior while he's tied to a chair, still certain he can't lose despite his own party wanting nothing to do with him anymore. Thanks to Dmitry, he'd actually cause more harm if he lives.
Clearly Valentin's plan failed because he didn't utilize everyone at his disposal. Too many men assigned to guarding desks so they don't fall into Molotov's clutches.
But imagine if Molotov had gained control of a single desk?
The terror and destruction would have been unimaginable. In the end, Valentin saved us all from Desko-Nuclear Destruction.
Tom Cruise has no chanceAnd then it will be followed by Mission Impossible: Rogue Desk, where Tom Cruise literally fights a desk.
They're gonna get wrecked scrubsI think they're more than doomed...
*leaps over*
GAS GAS GAS
IM GONNA STEP ON THE GAS
And those desks are more quality than the one before!
Yeah but flashbacksBut at least they were central to the plot, in a way.
*breaks scouter*
Ah, but how can one direct the generals f the revolution without a certain hard surface to put notes on?
That was really weird
i love the Kaiser!
MEME POWER, PLUS ULTRA!
xaxaxaxaxaxa intensifies
I swear, I need to include a lightsaber battle somewhere in this megacampaign.
You underestimate what Dmitry can do.
That's assuming Valentin's plan was to capture the Valkyrie instead of guarding desks. In that respect, it succeeded.
xaxaxaxaxaxa intensifies more
Henry Cavill's mustache has nothing on this!
I think they're going to be more than wrecked...
cuts off limbs
You were the chosen one! You were supposed to defeat the equalists, not join them! Bring balance to the world, not leave it in revolution!
Deja Vu intensifies
You were supposed to repeat Hail Hydra or some variation of that to keep the meme going.
Yeah, but plot
goes Super Saiyan
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaa
It's called a table. And there's always the floor.
And so Luke Skywalker.
braces for flame war
The attempt on my revolution has left me tied up and deprived of desks, but I assure you, my proletarian resolve has never been stronger!
Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to exit the window.
throws Samuel L Jackson out window
The End of History, Part 51
Outside Kiev – December 24, 1985
“You’re listening to Radio Free Eurasia,” said a female broadcaster, “Your number one freedom-loving station that isn’t state-controlled. Okay, it is technically state-controlled, but at least it’s not whatever Kiev puts out, right? A merry Christmas or Kolyada Eve to all of you around the world, and another long set of your favorite holiday songs from the free world is coming up next, right after this short news update. The Soviet capital of Kiev fell this morning, with the brave men and women of the 101st Air Cavalry Division raising the Roman flag over Red Square. There remain pockets of resistance in the outer districts, and General Secretary Dmitry Yazov, who had just assumed the office two days ago, has fled, likely heading for a stronghold at Parnu on the Baltic coast, but the most important parts of Kiev have fallen to the Reich. Soviet divisions still in the capital are turning out in droves to lay down their arms and surrender, while anti-equalist rebel groups have begun seizing territory in the countryside. We’ll bring you live updates every half hour. To celebrate this momentous occasion, here’s ‘Happy X-Mas’ by Johann Lennon. Because this war's about to be over.”
A lone car sped down a dirt road snaking its way through the countryside, past the corn fields. Its sides were pockmarked with bullet holes, and its windows were little more than jagged pieces of broken glass sticking out from the doors. One tire was deflated, and it wasn’t much more than torn streaks of rubber loosely attached to the wheel. The engine wheezed and shuddered frequently, steam and smoke trailing from the hood. For a Soviet car, Olga was amazed it lasted this long.
“A miracle, isn’t it?” Anne said. “Back in our day, your mom was lucky to get a Trabant that wasn’t five years old. You won’t believe how often the steering wheel fell off too. And if we as much as bumped into a mailbox, the car would explode. Lost a lot of good agents that way.”
“At least we didn’t have to wait ten years to get this car,” Olga said.
“Actually, I waited longer than that,” Vladimir said, “My dad put me on the waiting list the day I signed up for the academy. Got this a couple weeks ago.”
“She wasn’t asking you,” Anne said.
A light blinked on the display, and the engine lurched again. “Bozhemoi,” Olga cursed. “Something’s wrong with the engine. Got to stop.”
As soon as Olga pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine, Anne got out. “I’ll look at it. Let’s hope it doesn’t explode in my face.”
She popped open the hatch and stepped back as more steam and smoke hissed from the engine as if it were a witch's cauldron. After a few seconds, the steam dissipated, and Anne rolled up her sleeves and got to work.
“This is so surreal,” Vladimir said, “Last morning I was a regular KGB agent. Now my car’s been shot at about a hundred times, the Valkyrie herself is fixing my car, I’m being pursued by the entire Soviet Army, and the General Secretary’s locked away in my trunk.”
“You plotted a coup against the General Secretary we have stuffed in the trunk, trafficked in Roman contraband, and planned to defect,” Olga said, “Seriously, you’re not the average KGB agent, so cut it out.”
“I plead ignorance,” Vladimir said, "You can do that in the Reich, right?"
“Why’d you do it?” Olga asked. “Why’d you want those movies? Why’d you want to defect? Why’d you help Molotov? Weren’t you happy with what the state gave you? What does Molotov have to offer? A desk?”
“I was happy,” Vladimir admitted, “For a time. Then I got bored of it. I got tired of the constant praise and attention for doing very little. Then the war began. My friends went off to fight, and they never returned. Some refused to go, and they disappeared. Others disappeared for asking the wrong questions. It’s hard to be a good man in this country, you know. You can get arrested for very little.”
“But you did something that would definitely get you arrested,” Olga said.
“I wanted out,” Vladimir said, “I wanted to leave this life, like you do. I was sick of the Party lying to me, lying to everybody. The propaganda just got to my head. If I stayed longer, I wouldn’t know if I can trust myself, much less anybody. Molotov was a respected man. He led this country to victory in the last war. OUR CURRENT GENERAL SECRETARY—” he had raised his voice just so Valentin could hear “—SCREWED EVERYTHING UP. HE’S GOING TO GET US ALL KILLED IN A POINTLESS WAR. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Molotov promised to end this war on favorable terms. He would make sure our country paid whatever price the Reich demanded, as long as it survived (and he got a desk, but that’s beside the point). We just had to end the war before Valentin nuked us all to Chernobog.”
“But why defect?” Olga asked.
“There’s no future for my family here,” Vladimir said, “I want to give them a better life. I wouldn’t want my daughter to grow up here. And besides, I never wanted to be a KGB agent. My parents pressured me to sign up so they could get the pension and other benefits. Then they went and died anyways before they were eligible. You know what I really want to be?”
“What?” Olga asked.
Vladimir blushed in embarrassment. “No, I shouldn’t tell you. It’s stupid.”
“Try me,” Olga said, “I’ve heard stupider.”
Vladimir looked away from her in shame. “Okay, this is going to sound very stupid. I want to be…a movie star.”
“What?” Olga said.
“Yeah,” Vladimir said, “Like Schwarzenegger. You know, The Eliminator? ‘I’ll be back’?”
Vladimir’s impression of an Austrian accent was terrible, even by Russian standards.
“Unlike you, I don’t watch pirated Roman movies,” Olga said.
“But you know the tropes,” Vladimir said.
“Hey, I’m not judging you,” Olga said, “The Party’s done too much of that. If you want to be the next action movie hero, go ahead and audition. I’m sure Babelsberg’s always looking for the next big superstar.”
They were suddenly jolted out of their conversation by a loud clang from the trunk. Valentin had apparently woken up and was now pounding his fists against the trunk hatch. Wait, he couldn’t have done that, because Olga had tied his arms and legs yesterday afternoon. He was probably banging his head against the hatch.
“LET ME OUT OF HERE NOW!” he hoarsely screamed. “I’M THE BLOODY GENERAL SECRETARY, YOU TRAITORS! I PROMISE I’LL GIVE YOU A QUICK DEATH!”
“I’ll be right back,” Olga said, “Stay here.”
She walked to the back of the car and popped open the trunk. Valentin glared back up at her, his eyes squinting as he adjusted out of darkness and into bright daylight. He squirmed around, trying to sit up with his limbs immobilized.
“Hello, Valentin,” Olga said, “Enjoying the ride?”
“Traitor!” Valentin snarled. “Shut your mouth!”
“I should’ve done that to you,” Olga said, “But fortunately for you, we ran out of duct tape. We used it to patch up the car. You won’t believe how useful it is for basically everything. Maybe the reason this country’s failing is you can’t get it anywhere but the black market? Now, could you please shut up?”
“You’re making a big mistake, Firebird,” Valentin said, “It was already bold enough to free the Valkyrie herself. But capturing me—”
“Was the icing on the cake,” Olga finished, “It was a surprise when you showed up, but it was a welcome one. I just took the opportunities that presented themselves. And by the way, I’m not Firebird anymore. I don’t work for you.”
She ruffled through his pockets and took out a small cassette tape and a Walkman. “Looks like you do have a Walkman,” she commented, “I’m sure your soldiers appreciate the irony of their General Secretary owning symbols of consumerism, much less things made by reactionaries.”
Before Valentin could respond, Olga slammed the hatch down again and locked it. Valentin banged on the hatch a couple more times before falling silent again. Olga laughed to herself. Here was the General Secretary, locked in her trunk, completely helpless. She could do whatever she wanted, and nobody would stop her. They’d already replaced him back in Kiev, judging from what the radio said. Nobody cared about him, not even his own friend.
She turned over the tape in her hands. It was unmarked and looked like any other tape. And yet Valentin claimed it contained information about Plan 1, the contingency plan that was extensively referenced in the archive files. Molotov said Plan 1 forced her father to turn on her mother back in Prague. She had a lot of questions about that. She hoped the tape had the answers she was looking for.
Olga loaded the tape into the Walkman and hit play.
---
Anne reconnected the last wire and poured some water on the engine to cool it down. With any luck it wouldn’t explode in her face. She just hoped there was enough fuel to get them to the nearest Roman encampment. By the way, where were those Romans? They should’ve passed some soldiers by now. The capital had fallen, and they’d taken control of most of the surrounding area. There weren’t even any helicopters or jets patrolling the skies. Oh well. She’d find out one way or another by the end of the day.
“Alright, Olga, try it out!” she said.
There was no response.
“Olga?” she said.
Nobody responded.
She slammed down the hood and noticed Olga standing next to her. She didn’t say a word. Her face was stone-cold blank, and her fists were clenched.
“Olga?” she asked. “You almost scared me there. Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, Anne,” Olga said, drawing a knife.
She lunged at Anne.
Well, in a world where Hitler is a movie director,Mussolini - a radioman,and Gandhi - a mad dictator,movie star Putin seems legit
Ah, Olga... She's a smart, capable agent. She should have known better than to listen to that tape.