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Gregori is already close by so it's likely he would tail Ang and Xavier to determine whether or not the two could be useful to him.
I heard once that Todd America killed all the Nahzies with pure patriotism. Simply genius...
...simply 'Merica!
...simply 'Merica!
I'm surprised Capin' 'Merica hasn't surfaced into this thread, yet. 
No excuses on my part, I've been dragging ass on this one but it's because I'm trying to avoid creating a stereotypical character. I'm going with a Canadian, because, well... we are usually the least represented in the WWII fiction sector. I am however as interested in this as when I first saw it in the Interest Checks. :)
A good anime with a decent story is nice, so long as it doesn't drag out for seven seasons of pointlessness. :P
I hope that post works, I haven't had a lot of time to sit down and write so I've been getting in bits and pieces here and there.
Grozny, Autonomous District of Chechen (A.O.C),
20 October, 2428. - 14:45.
"Federalists and those svoloch' in the Kremlin are demanding blood for blood, it's a fucking nightmare, Petyr!" Minister Stepov groaned noisily over the phone, the call was being held through a private government channel that was under the radar of the FSB. Moscow had grown increasingly lax in security over the last few decades, internal corruption reached levels that had not been seen since the late twentieth century. Petyr Magedan sat at a mahogany desk and waved a fuming cigar through the air nonchalantly, for those that sat before him he seemed less worried than he ought to be. The lavish office was dim as large plumes of smoke wafted about the chandeliers and drapes, sure to leave a brown stain over time. Three men sat before him, silent and deathly pale while the conversation over the phone continued with little regard to them.
"Calm down, Mikhael. This is nothing, a setback that we can overcome. The Federalists have no sway in Moscow, you know that, and the Kremlin can eat dung for all I care. Their feathers have been ruffled and now it's all rhetoric and rattling sabers, in a week this whole thing will blow over and it will be business as usual." Petyr looked unconcerned and puffed away on his cigar, his face lighting an ugly red from the smoldering end that stretched the lines of his face in grotesque shadows. As the Second Chair of the Office of District Affairs, Petyr was well-informed on what was being said and done in and outside the state. That Moscow had already dispatched a wet team to find the killers of yesterdays assassination and snuff them out was not a problem, Petry knew whose palms needed to be greased so the threat was minimal. Even so, the organization he was affiliated to had made a catastrophic blunder on their part. It was supposed to be a clean job, one man was all that was asked. Unfortunately, when the assassins had found their target in his suite, he was not alone. A woman happened to be sharing the target's bed, as she could be a witness there was no thought as to leaving her alive. The target was no one the world would mourn for, the woman on the other hand, Anastasya Dvorbkin, was the eldest daughter of the Russian Minister of Interior, Alexei Dvorbkin.
"They are calling it a botched kidnapping, so the target's demise is being overlooked. The Minister is ready to order the troops into the district, treaties be damned!" Though he could handle Stepov's overreacting, Petyr knew that heads would need to roll in order to ebb the flood of political backlash that would ensue unless he made a gesture in good faith to the Kremlin. Deliver them a head on a silver platter and they will not dare enter the district. A name sprang to mind, one that had been the cause of some recent embarrassment for the Office of District Affairs. Playing that card would wash his hands of two problems, the Chechen Brotherhood would be happy and the Ministry of Interior as well. But was it wise to throw away your ace in the hole? Petyr needed to think on that one, so often decisions were made without thinking things through and the results could turn disastrous. He snubbed out his cigar into a crystal tray.
"Leave it to me, Mikhael. Continue as normal and I will be in touch." Petyr ended the call and set the phone on the surface of the desk slowly, his faded blue eyes glancing up to the three before him with a cold stare. One of the men flinched when he met his eyes, the others tried to look calm but the sheen of sweat on their foreheads made it clear they were on his shit list.
"Gentlemen, find the dog and have him delivered to the kennel. You have one day; don't make me wait." The edge to his voice made his intentions perfectly clear and he did not need to order them out, they were quite ecstatic to leave with their heads still attached to their necks.
New Providence,
Present Day.
It was going to be a good day.
Edward Bradley, the Hero of the People, had taken meticulous steps to 'pretty up' for the public spectacle about to take place before a throng of jubilant supporters. There was nothing about the man that was not cosmetically altered to make him appear the king he was meant to be. The lines and wrinkles were pulled and stretched, teeth beaming radiant white, any blemish or imperfection masked with layers of make-up. In contrast to the man that had arrived earlier, it was as though he had dropped thirty years. Gregori worked nearby with the other teamsters setting up for the public address, so he was never far from Bradley and could watch as the pompous ass rehearsed his speech and made revisions on-the-fly. Those who worked around him were worse, like carrion birds hoping for scraps and feeding off his every whim and command with glee. Revulsion surged up inside of Gregori, that people were actually eating up his bullshit was reminiscent of the stalwarts of the old union in the Motherland.
"When you are ready, sir." The chief of Bradley's security detail announced and then reached for his earpiece, "Look alive and hold positions, he's coming out." and with that Bradley was escorted to the stage commanding the view of thousands. To add insult to injury, trumpets resounded triumphantly and a roar of shouts and screams filled the air. Gregori moved closer to the stage well away from the police line separating himself from frenzied crowds, to anyone else he would have looked no different than one of the teamsters watching expectantly off the side of the stage. A bit rougher around the edges, perhaps. The fanfare and cheers were drowned out by the loudspeakers near the stage which were set to an obnoxiously high volume, his voice booming over the crowds as they began to settle:
"Friends, family, people of this country... Today is the dawn of a new world. Today, we will be freed from oppression!"
Today was going to be a very good day.
"Today, we will start with the persecution of one of the assassins who has kept us in fear for so long; he has killed over one hundred people, all in the name of terror. Today, this man, Hugo Simmons, will die."
Gregori did not know the man personally nor did he hold any grudge against him, likewise, his death was nothing but a catalyst for the many more that were to follow in this witch hunt. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to watch while the police dragged Hugo Simmons to the stage, the man passing right before Gregori and up the steps to the stage. Their eyes did not meet, Hugo looked like a beaten dog with his head hanging low. Better you than me, Gregori resigned himself to the rest of the kangaroo court. He could have done something but he knew that there would be two dead assassins and what use was he if he was dead? The crowd hissed and taunted and jeered, they wanted the man dead just as much as Bradley wanted his crown.
He watched and waited in silence, analyzing Bradley and making mental notes of where he had positioned his security personnel. They were mainly flanking the stage along with the teamsters and other members of the king's posse. When the speech would end, Gregori wondered if there might be a limousine waiting and considered trying to intercept Bradley there. Behind the stage was nearly empty, it wouldn't be hard to wait in ambush but the amount of security meant his chances of walking away alive were slim. Returning his gaze to the back of Bradley's tailored suit, another possibility floated to the surface of his thoughts; if he was planning to kill the king then there would be others, too.
20 October, 2428. - 14:45.
"Federalists and those svoloch' in the Kremlin are demanding blood for blood, it's a fucking nightmare, Petyr!" Minister Stepov groaned noisily over the phone, the call was being held through a private government channel that was under the radar of the FSB. Moscow had grown increasingly lax in security over the last few decades, internal corruption reached levels that had not been seen since the late twentieth century. Petyr Magedan sat at a mahogany desk and waved a fuming cigar through the air nonchalantly, for those that sat before him he seemed less worried than he ought to be. The lavish office was dim as large plumes of smoke wafted about the chandeliers and drapes, sure to leave a brown stain over time. Three men sat before him, silent and deathly pale while the conversation over the phone continued with little regard to them.
"Calm down, Mikhael. This is nothing, a setback that we can overcome. The Federalists have no sway in Moscow, you know that, and the Kremlin can eat dung for all I care. Their feathers have been ruffled and now it's all rhetoric and rattling sabers, in a week this whole thing will blow over and it will be business as usual." Petyr looked unconcerned and puffed away on his cigar, his face lighting an ugly red from the smoldering end that stretched the lines of his face in grotesque shadows. As the Second Chair of the Office of District Affairs, Petyr was well-informed on what was being said and done in and outside the state. That Moscow had already dispatched a wet team to find the killers of yesterdays assassination and snuff them out was not a problem, Petry knew whose palms needed to be greased so the threat was minimal. Even so, the organization he was affiliated to had made a catastrophic blunder on their part. It was supposed to be a clean job, one man was all that was asked. Unfortunately, when the assassins had found their target in his suite, he was not alone. A woman happened to be sharing the target's bed, as she could be a witness there was no thought as to leaving her alive. The target was no one the world would mourn for, the woman on the other hand, Anastasya Dvorbkin, was the eldest daughter of the Russian Minister of Interior, Alexei Dvorbkin.
"They are calling it a botched kidnapping, so the target's demise is being overlooked. The Minister is ready to order the troops into the district, treaties be damned!" Though he could handle Stepov's overreacting, Petyr knew that heads would need to roll in order to ebb the flood of political backlash that would ensue unless he made a gesture in good faith to the Kremlin. Deliver them a head on a silver platter and they will not dare enter the district. A name sprang to mind, one that had been the cause of some recent embarrassment for the Office of District Affairs. Playing that card would wash his hands of two problems, the Chechen Brotherhood would be happy and the Ministry of Interior as well. But was it wise to throw away your ace in the hole? Petyr needed to think on that one, so often decisions were made without thinking things through and the results could turn disastrous. He snubbed out his cigar into a crystal tray.
"Leave it to me, Mikhael. Continue as normal and I will be in touch." Petyr ended the call and set the phone on the surface of the desk slowly, his faded blue eyes glancing up to the three before him with a cold stare. One of the men flinched when he met his eyes, the others tried to look calm but the sheen of sweat on their foreheads made it clear they were on his shit list.
"Gentlemen, find the dog and have him delivered to the kennel. You have one day; don't make me wait." The edge to his voice made his intentions perfectly clear and he did not need to order them out, they were quite ecstatic to leave with their heads still attached to their necks.
New Providence,
Present Day.
It was going to be a good day.
Edward Bradley, the Hero of the People, had taken meticulous steps to 'pretty up' for the public spectacle about to take place before a throng of jubilant supporters. There was nothing about the man that was not cosmetically altered to make him appear the king he was meant to be. The lines and wrinkles were pulled and stretched, teeth beaming radiant white, any blemish or imperfection masked with layers of make-up. In contrast to the man that had arrived earlier, it was as though he had dropped thirty years. Gregori worked nearby with the other teamsters setting up for the public address, so he was never far from Bradley and could watch as the pompous ass rehearsed his speech and made revisions on-the-fly. Those who worked around him were worse, like carrion birds hoping for scraps and feeding off his every whim and command with glee. Revulsion surged up inside of Gregori, that people were actually eating up his bullshit was reminiscent of the stalwarts of the old union in the Motherland.
"When you are ready, sir." The chief of Bradley's security detail announced and then reached for his earpiece, "Look alive and hold positions, he's coming out." and with that Bradley was escorted to the stage commanding the view of thousands. To add insult to injury, trumpets resounded triumphantly and a roar of shouts and screams filled the air. Gregori moved closer to the stage well away from the police line separating himself from frenzied crowds, to anyone else he would have looked no different than one of the teamsters watching expectantly off the side of the stage. A bit rougher around the edges, perhaps. The fanfare and cheers were drowned out by the loudspeakers near the stage which were set to an obnoxiously high volume, his voice booming over the crowds as they began to settle:
"Friends, family, people of this country... Today is the dawn of a new world. Today, we will be freed from oppression!"
Today was going to be a very good day.
"Today, we will start with the persecution of one of the assassins who has kept us in fear for so long; he has killed over one hundred people, all in the name of terror. Today, this man, Hugo Simmons, will die."
Gregori did not know the man personally nor did he hold any grudge against him, likewise, his death was nothing but a catalyst for the many more that were to follow in this witch hunt. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to watch while the police dragged Hugo Simmons to the stage, the man passing right before Gregori and up the steps to the stage. Their eyes did not meet, Hugo looked like a beaten dog with his head hanging low. Better you than me, Gregori resigned himself to the rest of the kangaroo court. He could have done something but he knew that there would be two dead assassins and what use was he if he was dead? The crowd hissed and taunted and jeered, they wanted the man dead just as much as Bradley wanted his crown.
He watched and waited in silence, analyzing Bradley and making mental notes of where he had positioned his security personnel. They were mainly flanking the stage along with the teamsters and other members of the king's posse. When the speech would end, Gregori wondered if there might be a limousine waiting and considered trying to intercept Bradley there. Behind the stage was nearly empty, it wouldn't be hard to wait in ambush but the amount of security meant his chances of walking away alive were slim. Returning his gaze to the back of Bradley's tailored suit, another possibility floated to the surface of his thoughts; if he was planning to kill the king then there would be others, too.
So the character dynamic is changing a bit, Rock Killjoy and KurtyKool have some interesting contributions. I don't want to be that guy but I could not help but note how identical Rock Killjoy's character is to Revy from Black Lagoon. Grojan Moneng is in the elder ranks alongside Gregori, I can see a rapport forming between the two.
Otherwise, I should have post up in the next few days.
Otherwise, I should have post up in the next few days.
I'm almost done my CS, had a very busy weekend and didn't have a chance to be alone at my computer until last night. How's everyone been?
I will be waiting with bated breath. ;)
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