II
Darker
Magnus Hansson.
4th of April, 2162.
Kremlin, Moscow, Russian SR.
Magnus had spent most of his life fearing this day. Of course, it was a day many feared. And he had made this day come to many sooner than it should’ve, and perhaps this was what drove him to this point. He felt as if he had reached insanity, but insanity to the point of enlightenment. He knew what he had to do, he had read the history books. The books said the world prospered under countless democracies a couple of centuries ago, although this was not what he cared for. It was certainly the fear of what would be written of himself in the history books, that had driven him to this point. He had read horrible words about horrible people, Hitler, Göring, Himmler, he would not wish to go down in such books similarly to how the Nazis of Germany had. And he had committed much, much worse crimes than they had.
The KGB followed right behind Magnus as he marched into the Kremlin, countless agents following troop. They were all armed and at the ready. He hoped Friedrich would not have arrived yet, that would ruin it all. Thankfully, to his joy, the Kremlin was still untouched by the fires of the revolution to come. “The President! The President!” Magnus shouted, creating faux panic in his voice, “I require the President!” A guard nodded his head at Magnus, and rushed off in the direction of the President’s office. Lvov Pavlovich was not quite the man Magnus had expected him to be, when he became President after the death of Alexander Lenin, he seemed like a soft pushover, but this assumption had been all by wrong. Pavlovich was absolutely the worst human being Magnus had ever met, and Magnus was no saint himself. Pavlovich had ordered quadruple digit numbers of genocides of their very own population, he had bombed havens that had refused to bend to the Communists to dust, and he had no regard for any human but himself.
The President soon come downstairs, he pulled his glasses down onto his nose, squinting at Magnus. “Chairman Hansson, I had not expected to see you today. Do you not have Finns to get rid of? I’ve heard their numbers are not dwindling quite as fast as I requested them to.”
Magnus nodded his head, “Aye, that is why I am here. The Finnish are quite enduring people. Have you perhaps read of the Winter War?” He asked, quirking a curious brow at the President.
“I cannot say I have. Although, you may tell me about it, if you deem it vital to your mission.” The President shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, no no, I wish not to bore you, Pavlovich. I am certain you’ll have enough time to be bored soon enough.” Magnus offered a bright smile, bowing before swiftly grabbing his pistol.
“What is the meaning of this? Chairman Hansson?” The President asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly, he took two worried steps backward, whilst guards stepped in front of him. Soon, the room was nearly filled to the brim by KGB officers and Presidential guards.
“A bloodbath, it seems.” Magnus shrugged, his lips curled widely into a smirk. “I would rather you surrender yourself, Pavlovich, it would make this so much easier for all of us. Though, I don’t suspect you’ve regard for anyone here but yourself.”
“I’ve no time for your games, Hansson!” The President shouted, “Fire!” He exclaimed, raising a fist symbolically.
Magnus quickly raised his gun, he fired one shot towards the President, and then another. The gunshots of everyone around him rang like sirens throughout the entire Kremlin. He ducked into cover, more and more guards were rushing from the rooms all around, but the KGB would easily be able to stand up to this. They were trained assassins and agents, well-fit for the close-combat that was occurring inside the walls of the Kremlin.
The President had run off, though a trail of blood showed his path. It filled Magnus with determination that he was sure the President was wounded, and would likely die any minute now. Though, it also filled him with fear, a dying man has so much more balls than one who can still survive.
Magnus bolted up the stairs, taking down two guards on the way. He needed to get to the President, and soon. That man was still the most powerful man in the world as long as he was alive. He kicked down the door, the President was on his phone. The President was begging the army for reinforcements, and now Magnus truly hoped that Friedrich had as much control over the army that he believed he did.
The President dropped the phone when he noticed Magnus, stumbling back against a window and staring at him with fearful eyes. “M-Magnus, you don’t need to do this.” He begged.
“Don’t beg, Pavlovich, try to take it as a man.” He answered with a gentle smile. “I truly am sorry.” He nodded his head once before unloading four bullets into the President, whose corpse fell out through the now shattered window behind him.
Magnus glanced down at the phone on the floor. “This cannot end well. Truly, it will be a bloodbath.” He sighed deeply.
The sound of aircrafts roared overhead. So far, no other sounds were heard, apart from the sound of a few glass windows shattering, and the thumps of paratroopers landing inside the Kremlin. One shot through the broken window right behind Magnus.
“Sorry. We’re late.” They stated, pulling off their helmet. And there, in all of his glory, stood Alexander von Markev. Albeit, all of his glory was not a lot. Whilst the entrance was cool, he broke into a cough immediately afterward, and almost crumpled onto the floor.
“Pavlovich called in the army.” Magnus stated, staring forward into the door, expecting it to blow open and guards to storm through it.
“Good thing we’re here then, eh?” Alexander chuckled, patting Magnus on the shoulder.
“How many aircrafts do you have?” Magnus asked, knitting his brows.
“Oh, just the entire air force of the German SR!” Alexander beamed, proudly pointing at the mass of planes flying outside the Kremlin and over Moscow.
Magnus was not a man who was easily impressed, and Alexander von Markev was not a man who he found impressive in the slightest. He was a revolutionary, and a reactionary. He wanted to return to an old way of democracy, where all peoples of a nation would have the right to choose the leader, even then he also supported the monarchy, a family chosen by God to rule the land. How those two could work together, Magnus was extremely unsure about. He was also certain that God was dead. But however Alexander had done it, he had managed to do it. The entirety of the German SR was loyal to him and Wilhelm, the only feat Markev could ever perform that would impress Magnus.
“The army will be here soon.” Magnus said, staring up at a clock on the wall.
“That’s a good thing, is it not?” Alexander asked. “Friedrich controls the army, right?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Magnus shrugged, but the gunfire that suddenly boomed outside, followed by the explosions of aircraft and bombs settled the debate on an absolute “Maybe not.”
Magnus barged through the door, Alexander following right after. The halls of the Kremlin were littered with corpses of KGB officers and Presidential guards, blood had painted the walls a true communist red. Further down in the Kremlin, gunfire still roared, the army had most definitely arrived.
“We need to find Friedrich.” Magnus said, panic growing inside him. Perhaps the first time in many decades that he had felt even a slight bit of panic. He rushed down the halls and down the stairs of the Kremlin, so fast that Alexander could barely keep up. He swung against the corner, immediately raising his gun as a person stood right in front of him.
“Chairman.” The man said, offering a wicked grin.
“Generalissimo.” Magnus responded, gulping. Generalissimo Nicholas Lenin, the brother of the former president Alexander Lenin. He was the highest ranking military officer in the USSR, and thus the entire world. If anyone had committed more sins than Magnus, it would be Nicholas. Nicholas had a lust for blood, a wish to maximise casualties whether they be civilian or military. He had no hair, which further helped his blood red eyes stand out. It was almost as if Nicholas was more demon than he was man. If God was not dead, then Nicholas was Satan.
“Where’s the President?” Nicholas asked, glancing at Alexander as he came running up behind Magnus.
“Dead. He’s on the ground somewhere outside.” Magnus responded, shrugging his shoulders. “Where’s Friedrich Georg?”
“He’s--” The Kremlin rumbled, pieces of construction materials started falling around them, sending a huge puff of dust into the air. Nicholas fell onto the floor, grunting. Magnus quickly spun around, grabbing Alexander by the shoulder.
“Go! Go! We need to get out!” Magnus commanded, sprinting off, hoping that Alexander would be able to follow him.
Alexander pulled out his phone, “Need a transport helicopter. Now!” He shouted into his phone, before stuffing it back into his pocket. The Kremlin was crumbling around them as they were running, electronics, bricks, paintings, wood, everything was falling all around them, and they needed to be fast if they were to get out.
They burst through a set of doors, right before most of the Kremlin seemed to collapse. Half of it was on fire, and the other half had been bombed into pieces. Much of the area surrounding the Kremlim had the same status, on fire or bombed to pieces. Magnus sighed, it wasn’t supposed to end like this. It wasn’t.
The helicopter landed in front of them, and as he stepped on, he sincerely hoped that Friedrich was still alive out there somewhere.