[u][b]Moscow[/b][/u]
	
	Dark clouds loomed on the horizon as a storm prepared to batter Russia. New men had arrived all along Moscow's border with the remnants of the Russian Empire, finally giving them the strength to consider a move on their strongest enemy. Further East in the capital city itself, machines of war that had not been touched in years were being prepared for the move North, while citizens were being gathered in droves, and men and women alike were being prepared for the possibility of having to fight for their Tsar. At the heart of all of this, Tsar Wrangel sat drawing up battle plans with her best generals, for all possibilities. Whether Moscow sat triumphant, or was reduced to rubble, this would be the war to settle everything in Russia. Whoever won this war would win the right to call themselves Tsar of all of Russia, and Wrangel was determined to take it. 

However, not everyone was in a frenzy at the prospect of “settling everything.” In a small camp along the Imperial border, one soldier was expecting the worst, and had no intention of sticking around for it.

“Shit shit shit!” muttered a short soldier bearing the Muscovite crest on his jacket. “Where the hell did I put it? I can't leave without it.”

The soldier began to dig through a trunk at the end of a small, ratty cot, with a look of fear on his face so intense, you'd think the entire camp was about to be bombed.

“There it is!” He shouted a bit too loud, as he grabbed a framed photo and stuffed it into a knapsack at his feet. “Now all I need is my gun.” he said as he turned for the entrance to the tent, only to see another soldier staring in at him. He froze, like a deer in the headlights, as the other soldier eyed him up and down, before finally opening his mouth to speak.

“Vasily... What are you doing? Going for a hike?” he asked, crossing his arms and moving to block the exit entirely.

“Shut up, Adrian. Now's not the time, so can you please go be a dick to somebody else?” pleaded Vasily, sounding exhausted. “I really need to get going.”

Adrian frowned, his heavy brow furrowing at his comrade's words. “Where are you going, Vasily. We're not supposed to go anywhere, until we get new orders. You know that.”

“Yes, yes! I know. I...” Vasily looked around, staring at a pair of shadows moving along the side of the tent, beofre continuing in a hushed voice. “I'm getting out of here, Adrian. I only took this stupid job because it paid well, and I was told I'd be stationed in the city to help with relief efforts. I never wanted to head to the front lines, let alone fight! If it were Austrians, sure, those bastards killed my grandpa, but Russians? Something about it doesn't sit right with me... Me and Niko were going to steal a car... Head down South to Rostov. Word is the people there are just riding this whole thing out, so we wanted to go there and do the same.”

The following silence was long and tense, and Vasily couldn't bring himself to look up at Adrian the entire time. When his friend finally inhaled to speak, he flinched, expecting the worst. “Vasily...” Adrian said in a hushed tone. “Help me pack my bag. I want in.”



[u][b]Yaroslavl[/b][/u]

“Welcome, welcome, friends of Moscow! Haha! Come, come!” a man shouted from a market stall as the first of the vehicles from Arkhangelsk made their way into Moscuvite territory from the now-open border, for the first time in years. “Please!  All the foods you've missed! All the latest fashions! Whatever you are looking for, Viktor has it! Come, come!”

All along the main road, the scene was the same. People from Yaroslavl welcoming old friends and ally's into the nation. Families reuniting for the first time in years. People waving flags, whether it be Archangelsk's, Moscow's, or even the old Russian flag. Soldiers from both sides talking like old friends catching up at the border checkpoint, while music filled the air for miles, some would swear.

“Uncle? Uncle Andrei, is that you?” a woman with a mess of curly hair said, tapping the back of an older man who was looking lost. “Oh, Uncle Andrei, it is you! Come with me, mama will be so excited to see you again!” Clasping the old man's hand, the woman began to scurry off, accidentally stepping on the foot of somebody who was leaning against a nearby building, smoking. “Oh, sorry, sir.”

“No, no, it's fine. Go, enjoy your day. Do not worry about it.” the man said, putting the cigarette out, and watching the woman disappear into the crowds. He then turned, walking inside of the building, letting out a sigh of relief as the outside sounds faded with the closing door. Looking around, he spotted three other men sitting at a table, playing cards. When they noticed him walking over, one of them shouted out to him.

“Lev! How are the festivities? Are you going to go jump around like a little girl?” laughed a man who looked like he had been hit with a train, bombed, and then struck by lighting, and survived. 

“Shut it, Igor. I just needed some fresh air. I really don't care about the festivities. In fact... Going out there ruined my shoe.” replied Lev, an annoyed twitch showing in his left eye. “So, shall we continue?” he said pulling up a seat and dropping into it.

“Yes, let's.” said a greying man with shaggy hair and a pointed beard. “Oh, and, eat it, Igor.” he said displaying a Royal Flush, and pulling a pile of money towards himself.

“Fuck!” shouted Igor, hands clawing at what hair he had left. “I'll get you next time Pyotr, you bastard!” 

“Yes, yes, I'm sure you will Igor. Now, can you calm down so we can talk?” Pyotr said calmly, though the smug smile said something else entirely. Once Igor had finally ended his fit, Pyotr put a hand on the arm of the large, bald man who had been quiet the entire time. “Go ahead, Sergei. Let them in on the plan.”

With a loud screech, Sergei pushed back on his chair, and stood up, papers in hand, like a gradeschooler prepared to give a book report. “Hello gentlemen. As you know, things have been hard for us lately. We lost our route from Smolensk, and Nizhny has their border locked down tight. With no way to export or import, we have been preparing for the worst, but no more! The Tsar has done good for us with this deal! With access to Arkhangelsk comes access to ports! Because of this, Pyotr has scraped together all of our remaining funds, so that we can buy a boat, and sail for better shores.”

“No, no!” cut in Pyotr. “That is not what we are doing! I bought us a smuggler, who owns a boat, so that we have a new way to smuggle into and out of Moscow! All we have to do is give them a fair cut, and they will set us up to start making big money again. Especially with war on the horizon, people will pay big to get those foreign foods, and especially for those Western drugs. There have been so many complaints lately about quality that I was beginning to think people were realizing how little they were actually getting. Well, not anymore! This is going to have us swimming in money boys. Even if Moscow burns, we'll be sitting pretty.”

With a maniacal chuckle, Igor rubbed his hands together like a rat, nearly slobbering at the prospect. “Oh Pyotr, I could kiss you right now. This is fantastic! No, this is beyond fantastic! How soon until we get our first payment, huh?”

“Not for a couple months.” Pyotr replied calmly, which was quickly contrasted by the tantrum Igor erupted into. 

“A couple months? Are you fucking kidding me, Pyotr?!? The money I have left won't last me a couple weeks! Are you trying to kill me, is that it???” Igor shouted, throwing himself from his chair and stomping off into an adjacent room. “Why do we follow you, when you are so dumb! His voice echoed from a distant location.

Stifling a laugh, Lev looked to Pyotr, who leaned in, and in a hushed tone said “His share, at least. We'll see ours within a fortnight. I know the rat has been taking a cut of the top of all of his sales. He's lucky he's a good salesmen, or I'd have big Sergei drown him in a well, or... Or cut off his squirmy little hands.”

“You could always set him on fire, see if he survives that, too. Maybe he's actually a cockroach disguised as a rat. You have to have survived some crazy shit to end up looking like him.” Lev replied with a chuckle.

“Okay, Pyotr!.” came Igor's voice as he reentered the room. “Okay. I get it. You're holding onto the money, waiting for a big payoff, right? You want to treat us good, give us a nice paycheck first thing, right? I get it! So let me say, thank you. I won't disappoint you. In fact, I'll go get you some money right now. If you would give me some of the product, I'll head out this moment.”

“Well, Igor, there is no product. That's why we have to wait.” Pyotr said, and watched with glee as the large vein in Igor's forehead nearly burst, before the little ratty man stormed out of the building, muttering profanities. Once he was gone, Pyotr looked to Lev once more. “Meet me in Moscow in three days. I have a job for you and Segei to do in the meantime. Oh and, here.” he said, digging into his coat and pulling out some money. “Buy yourself some new shoes.”