Northern Cooperative Unions
Establishing Nation
- Joined
- Jan 20, 2012
- Messages
- 438
- Capital
- Rigustad
- Nick
- Bospy
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Patriotic Latgalian music plays on an outdated radio, singing of the exploits of the so-called Revolutionary Guard. General Boguslaw Miazga has fallen asleep at his desk with a bottle of potato vodka clasped in a hand. The smell of alcohol lingered on the General naturally. His room had a single light and was built industrially - mass-produced. The furniture was cheap and worn. Wallpaper was peeling off. Like the housing blocs of Rurikgrad, the Northern Realms followed suite in their utility, not looks.
"General! Wake up! Comrade General!" A second-lieutenant aide bellowed from the wooden doorway of the army headquarters.
The General stirred and groaned, reclining in his chair. Opening his eyes with a plaintive look on his face, General Miazga peered at his beanpole aide and took a long swig of his vodka glass. "What the hell do you want, Anatol? Can't you see I was sleeping?"
"Comrade General, an agent from the UDBA has flown in urgently for a request. He claims to have found a discrepancy in the garrison armory, Comrade General."
The General's eyes widened. He stood and nearly tripped over his own fat legs. He tuned the radio down and adjusted his tie, fumbling around the room while the aide watched in minor bemusement. The General very narrowly managed to stash his supply of vodka in his desk. The sound of a steel-toe boot striking the floor soon followed, and a uniformed UDBA agent stepped inside. The aide offered his salute. The General looked lazily in the UDBA agent's direction, draping his arms over the back of his chair in anticipation.
The UDBA agent coughed into his wrist and removed his cover, wearing a large windbreaker with the markings of Internal Affairs - the highest law enforcement agency of the Union.
The lanky intelligence agent soon called for the General's attention, "Comrade General."
"Yes? What? Can't you see I was busy with paperwork?" The general's desk was covered in troop movement orders - deployments of the territorials to the coast brought plenty of bureaucracy. And cooking the books was necessary for the Mafija's no-shows.
"I am remanding you to the custody of Internal Affairs effective immediately for charges of revisionism and corruption." The agent almost immediately reached for a set of handcuffs around his waistband. Soon enough, two uniformed agents with "UD - AP" markings - military police - stepped into the room with their rifles.
The General offered a hollow laugh nervously. "Surely you must be joking, Agent! What was your name? Anatol, what's the name of our friend? I've had an arrangement with your office for years! The payments came through two weeks ago, certainly this has to be a joke?" The General shot his gaze back and forth between his aide and the agents.
The agent scoffed and continued, "Agent Koziol is my name. General, there's a new UDBA director. Any arrangement you believed you held is null and void."
The General look horrified and licked his mustache once again nervously. The two UD - AP officers immediately hauled the General to his feet and secured him in handcuffs, manhandling him towards the front door. The agent followed closely behind. Instead of taking the route to the front door, the agent and his policeman took a detour to the alleyways of the officer's barracks. Colonels and other officers of the general staff watched closely - partly to ensure they were not the next target, and partly for their own morbid curiosity.
The general whined, "Where are you taking me, you fool? This won't last when the Council finds out! I make money for the Union!"
The two policemen dragged the general into the dark alleyway behind the officer's barracks, leaving him on his knees in the corner. The agent motioned for them to come back and withdrew his service firearm from his pistol holster, flicking the safety off.
"The Premier has ordered us to track down old members of the council for adherence to the old doctrines. We don't need the old guard anymore. Your death warrant was already signed."
The General tried to turn to face the Agent in an effort to beg and plead for his life, but the trigger was already pulled. A waterfall of blood accompanied the gunfire of the three internal agents.
So would begin a new reign of red terror.