There were and always will be.
The sun of freedom is now dawning on us.
There were also those who weren't fair…
But there's only one U-sa-da!
Nousagi, Nousagi…
You are brave men…
Our bravest Peko volunteers.
Your accomplishments are proven…
You're real fighters, time itself has told!
There is a hero of Pekoland kin…
She rose up for her people.
There is a fighter, modest and fair…
She is Pekora Usada!
Nousagi, Nousagi …
You are brave men…
Our bravest Peko volunteers!
Your accomplishments are proven…
You're real fighters, time itself has told…
/
June 11, 1992 - Highway 55, Federal Autonomous Province of Rratovo
We trudged through several more kilometers, leaving the hanged bodies behind us. Once in a while, something would fly overhead - a TORI Takane-22 fighter-bomber jet, nicknamed the “Value Meal” because it was so cheap to make compared to other jets. The HNA seemed to have absolute control over the air in Rratovo, which meant we had to be extra careful if we didn’t want to become collateral damage in one of their airstrikes.
In the distance, Rratice’s bell tower rose up behind verdant hills, like a beacon calling out to us in the midst of this chaos.
But as we grew closer, we began to see something else too. Thin pillars of smoke rising up from the heart of the village.
“All right, girls,” I said as I held my rifle. “Spread out and watch your corners.”
Proceeding through town, we relied on standard procedure. One squad member would lay down a base of fire while the rest of us walked down opposite sides of the street, keeping close to cover as we did so. Every house we passed by was either burnt down half-way or completely empty, with their doors broken and their windows smashed. Whatever army of marauders had passed by here was long gone, along with whatever they deemed valuable.
The houses that still stood were almost worse in their own way, covered in garish graffiti. There were slogans like “REMOVE CHEESE!”, “Rratovo je Pekoland!”, “Pekoland to Tokyo”, and even one inexplicable piece that read simply: “HOUSE OF MOUSE.”
My blood boiled just looking at it all, and I couldn’t help but shake my head in disgust. Those fucking rabbits, I swear.
But then, something caught my ear with a sudden clarity that was both strange and exhilarating. A jaunty tune that filled the air with the sound of trumpets… Music.
On cijele dane svir'o je na svom klaviru…
On klasiku je svir'o po notnom papiru.
Hearing music in the middle of this desolation, I felt as if I had stepped into some kind of Twilight Zone. Or a trap. I asked the girls, and they said that they were hearing it too.
A svir'o je k'o pijanista…
Mocarta, Šopena, Lista.
Ja novu pjesmu našla sam da svira!
Whoa-oh, oh-oh!
We walked to where the sound was coming from - a small hill overlooking the main village square of Rratice.
Rock me, baby…
nije važno šta je!
Rock me, baby…
samo neka traje!
Rock me, baby…
ovo je za nervni stres!
Whoa-oh, oh-oh!
There it was. Out of a chrome boombox set on top of a stool, a famous Holodravan radio-television idol sang her heart over the radio waves.
“AZKi!” Suisei said, almost out of instinct as she walked to the radio to get a closer listen, before bopping her head to the beat. “Yeah, this is AZKi playing alright.”
Listening to it more, I began to recognize the piece. It was something that used to play a lot on the army trucks riding out of Ichikara back in ‘88.
“Hey, I remember listening to this while going home from Nijigrad,” I said, bobbing my head to the upbeat tune. “You remember this too, right, Suba?”
Subaru, who had been frowning since the farmhouse, seemed to share my enthusiasm - bobbing her head to the beat as well. “This plays almost every day in Baruglave, too. How can I forget?”
“And that was ‘Rock Me!’ by AZKi!” a peppy female disc jockey said through the airwaves. “Only here on Radio Holodrava, with your host, Crazy Ollie! Bit of a news flash for our listeners out there before the next song - free rides on the Holodrava Metro from 12 noon to 8 p.m. today! That should help somewhat with all the grocery shopping happening across town, but don’t litter! Let’s keep Holodrava beautiful. Coming up next - ‘Everything I Do, I Do It for You’ by Bryan Adams...”
A new piece began to play - slow and mournful piano chords accompanied by a man's anguished voice singing out lyrics in English. Even though I didn't understand the lyrics, there was something haunting about them. Something which seemed to echo our own struggles amid all this chaos and confusion.
It was hard not to feel sad listening to it as smoke billowed up from the burning homes just below us.
“Man, now it’s getting depressing,” I said. “Someone shut it off.”
“Aye aye, captain,” Korone said smartly before pressing the power button. “Pi~.”
With that, Bryan Adams was off the airwaves, leaving nothing but the whistle of wind and the crackling of burning houses.
“Kapetan, let me ask you something,” Suisei chirped in suddenly, drawing my attention away from American balladeers. “What’s your favorite AZKi song?”
Caught off guard by her question, I blinked, before scrambling to come up with an answer worthy of Suisei’s expectations.
Of course everyone in Holoslavia had their own favorite set of AZKi songs. They were played everywhere, after all - on bus and train speakers, every appliance store and pljeskavica shop.
But pinning down one specific tune? That was another matter entirely.
“Er, well,” I hesitated for a moment, feeling more than a little embarrassed because I knew my taste in music was distinctly… basic. “I guess I like ‘Rock Me’. I mean, it’s the best out of everything she’s done, I think.”
It wasn’t exactly an inspired choice. Far from it, if I was being honest with myself. If I were talking to a hardcore AZKi fan, a “Pioneer” (named so because, for a time, AZKi was the model and spokeswoman for the Union of Young Pioneers of Holoslavia), they would’ve beaten the shit out of me already.
But it didn’t seem to bother Suisei at all. In fact, she beamed back at me with a radiant sort of smile.
“Ah, well, you can’t go wrong with that one,” Suisei said, before closing her eyes and singing the song by herself.
Rock me, baby! Nije važno šta je...
Rock me, baby! Samo neka traje...
Rock me, baby! Ovo je za nervni stress!
Whoa oh oh oh!
The rest of the squad and I listened on in silence, stunned at just how talented the party member really was. Suisei’s voice was smooth and fine-tuned, with high vocal stability and a solid tone to boot, it was an unexpected revelation amid the destruction around us. In fact, I could say she was as good as AZKi herself...
I couldn’t help but make a small, but audible clap. After a few minutes, Korone joined in too. Too bad I sent out Botan on a patrol; she should’ve been around to hear that.
“Wow,” Korone said simply, before making a few more claps.
Wow indeed.
Happy to accept the applause, Suisei sighed with a pleased look on her face. “Ah, AZKi won Eurovision 1989 with that song... Too bad she sung something else in 1990 and lost, though.”
Subaru’s face lit up the moment the word ‘Eurovision’ tumbled out of Suisei’s mouth.
“You were there too?” she asked Suisei excitedly, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet with barely-contained joy.
As for me, I turned around and shook my head. I liked AZKi as much as the next guy, sure, but what was so fascinating about some silly concert?
“Never watched Eurovision,” I said, letting my tongue slip. This was a mistake.
“Say what now?!” Subaru gasped out, clearly shocked by my lack of cultural awareness or whatever else it was that had set her off.
“Kapetan, sorry, but...” Suisei put her fingers to her chin in a gesture showing mild concern. “What kind of person doesn’t watch Eurovision?”
Even though I was sure that these two were just ribbing me, it felt like they were looking at the Federation’s biggest social pariah.
“I-I was just busy...” I grumbled. “I couldn’t go to Zashuba at the time, so...”
“Uh-huh, sure you were,” Subaru teased, her voice high and full of mockery, before making a show of wagging her finger at me in reproof. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. And here I thought our kombat would have... kultura.”
To that, both girls chuckled. For a moment, I felt like I was back in elementary school being teased by the popular girls. Not the most pleasant sensation, believe you me.
“Look at this, kapetan,” Suisei said as she dug into one of the pockets on her ALICE webbing and fished out a weird-looking keychain. It was a weird violet cartoon cat with the stripes of a tiger and a nose covered in dots.
"Eurocat!" exclaimed Subaru, clearly impressed. “I wasn’t able to buy any of those; they all sold out!”
“Uh-huh!” Suisei said with almost a huff of pride before fishing out another item from her pockets. “And here’s a picture of me and AZKi just after her song.”
True enough, it was a small Polaroid photo of Suisei standing cheerfully next to none other than the radio-television idol herself.
"Wow, that’s... That's really something," I muttered under my breath, feeling for the first time how I’ve been left behind by the lifestyles of these girls.
While Subaru and Suisei talked more and more about Eurovision, I looked around my surroundings. Korone had drifted away and started milling around the front of the village hall, as if looking for a way inside.
As for Botan...
I held my radio up. “Lion, Lion, come in, over.”
“Lion here, over,” she said, her voice crackled by radio interference.
“No sign of our friends?” I asked.
“Just ashes, kombat,” she replied flatly. “Someone left some cheese, though. I’ll bring it back.”
Finally, some good news. I told her to report back if anything happened, and then I turned my attention to Korone.
“Captain,” she said as she noticed me coming, her voice tense with apprehension. “Don’t you think this is weird?”
“What is?” I asked, following her gaze to the village hall - a long white building with wooden double-doors...
Wooden double-doors that were barred and locked shut. The windows were also covered with planks hastily nailed onto them.
My eyes widened as I took in the sight before me. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now.
“What on Earth...” I muttered, feeling a slight rumbling in my gut. Call it unease.
Korone looked at me, concerned. “What do you think, captain? Should we... open it?” The way she asked me this almost sounded like a call for help.
The thought of opening the door made my stomach churn. Every instinct screamed at me to stop and leave alone whatever lay beyond those desolate walls.
But curiosity got the better of me. I had to check.
“Yes,” I said after a moment’s hesitation. “We have to know what’s going on.”
“Aye, aye, Captain! Rock and roll,” Korone said in English before she and I lifted the bar off the door.
We then kicked at the locksets until they gave way. The very instant the doors swung open, a strong, foul stench assaulted our nostrils. The smell of rotting flesh and decay.
Almost on cue, both Korone and I retched. We had to put on gas masks to be able to somewhat stand the stench.
Through our mask lenses, we exchanged worried glances. We already had a good idea of what we would find inside, but there was no time to hesitate. We stepped into the hall, and found rather quickly where the smell was coming from.
Corpses. Rratovani from all walks of life strewn across each other in grotesque postures - old women withered away beside young girls; women slumped over each other while toddlers clutched at the hem of their skirts; the bodies of entire families collapsed together while others clawed at the walls or pulled out great handfuls of hair in utter desperation.
Even through the cloudy lens of my gas mask, I could see the deep, vivid blue hue of their skin, the look of terror etched across each and every one as if they had all died screaming.
To top it all off, there was the graffiti.
“Niji Whores,” it read in bold red letters at the far end of the hall - the final, twisted epitaph for the people of Rratice.
Korone stumbled out of the hall first, yanking off her gas mask before emptying the contents of her stomach into the nearby grass. I felt my own lunch threatening to make a hasty reappearance at any moment.
“What happened?” Subaru asked as she and Suisei ran over to us. “Is everything alright?”
“N-Not very… rock and roll…” Korone muttered before washing her mouth off with water from her canteen.
“Don’t go in there,” I warned them. “It’s... just don’t.”
Fortunately, neither Subaru or Suisei argued back or insisted on seeing what was inside. They could sense that something truly awful was beyond those doors.
We didn’t have any gasoline with us. Just lighter fluid. Definitely not enough to burn down an entire building. All we could do was seal the doors again, replace the bar, and scrawl something on the door.
‘Oprez! Leševi unutra.’ (Cation! Corpses inside.) Just like how the army marked places where it stored crates of ‘Cargo 35’ during The War.
The idea of leaving people to rot like in there like that never sat well with me. I didn’t want my body to rot like that either, but it was the best we could do.
We all did a little something in reaction. Korone made the sign of the triangle and prayed with Subaru. Suisei didn’t. She was a Party member, after all. Communists didn’t believe in God, but she was sad all the same.
As for me, I did what any self-respecting Holoslavian would do and poured one out from my flask for Rratice, and then myself.
When she was done with her prayer, Korone began handing each of us cigarettes. Dunhills. I suspected they were smuggled in from somewhere, maybe Kroniigovina, but I never asked.
We were doing this impromptu funeral Ichikara-style, it seemed. Usually, you would light a cigarette in the mouth of the soldier who died. But in case that couldn’t be done (Since the body got disintegrated, which was often the case during the Ichikara Campaign), then their comrades would smoke their whole cigarette ration in their stead.
All of us puffed our cigs silently, though Suisei coughed a few times. She was probably a first-time smoker.
“Kombat, if you will,” Subaru said to me.
“Right, right.” I cleared my throat. “To those who are not with us, and never will be...”
As was custom, we threw the butts onto the ground and stubbed them with our feet.
Everyone else saluted the same way I did. As firm as the soldiers who laid the Grand Marshal’s coffin into the House of Wishes in Holodrava. All that was left was the 21-gun salute and the crying masses of Party members.
Such a small gesture was nothing in the bigger scheme of things. I wondered whether we had any right to do it even, considering that we were nothing but soldiers-for-hire taking advantage of the chaos that caused these deaths in the first place.
But before I could get too profound, my radio crackled.
“Kombat, kombat, this is Lion,” Botan said, her voice fizzing with interference. “Kombat, I need backup, over.”
Did she run into the enemy? “Lion, what’s going on?”
“I’m near the village square, inside the Church… I’ve spotted Pekos.”
Why didn’t we hear them when we got here? “How many?”
“It’s… half a platoon. Maybe a dozen guys, but… they don’t look too organized. They look like a bunch of bandits.”
“What are they doing?”
“Um… they seem to be hauling stuff. TVs, speakers… I guess they were looting this place, but it seems they’re already done.”
Looters! I couldn’t believe it. It was as if the Federation had gone back to the medieval age, complete with highwaymen and other thieving scoundrels. 12 to 5 didn’t seem like good odds, though. But if they were as lax as Botan said they were…
“Kombat, what do you want me to do?” she asked.
“You think they’re gonna stay here long?”
“They… have vehicles. Full of all the other crap they’ve stolen, I think. Maybe they’ll leave after a while.”
“Then just keep an eye on them. Radio back if something happens.”
“Copy, kombat. Out.”
When I put my radio back on my strap, I was calculating the cost and benefit of engaging the Pekos. On one hand, not only were they looters, but there was a good chance that they were also behind the massacre in this village.
On the other hand, they outnumbered us more than two to one.
Plus, it wasn’t our job to engage them. Doing so would only attract unwanted attention, maybe even endanger the mission altogether.
It would make more sense to hole up somewhere and have Botan keep tabs on the Pekos. I didn’t like it, but this wasn’t our war. Not yet, at least.
“Girls, we need to pack up,” I said to the rest of the squad. “There’s Pekos in the village and we’re too exposed up here. So we’re gonna find a house and wait for them out.”
“But Kapetan…”
That was Suisei. She stepped forward with this glint in her eye that told me all that I needed to know - she wanted us to do something about the marauders.
“What if they’re the ones behind all this?” she asked, gesturing toward the village hall.
I almost clicked my tongue but stopped short. I wanted to do something about the Pekos too. But when I turned my eyes over at Subaru, she gave me one of the most subtle head shakes I’d ever seen someone do.
She didn’t think it was wise to engage them, and her judgment of these situations was second to none.
“We don’t know that yet,” I said to Suisei. “And even if they are, it’s not our job to go after them.”
“But you saw the bodies,” she retorted. “We… We can’t just let them do this.”
“Listen Hoshimachi, I understand. I really do. But you’re not in the People’s Army anymore; you’re here with me, and what I say goes. Understand?” Chewing her out over this wouldn’t work at all, so I had to be nice.
She looked at me with those blue eyes of hers - a dissatisfied kind of stare, bordering on reproachful. But then she pursed her lips, before turning away. “Alright, kapetan,” she said. “I understand.”
“Okay. You’re coming with me to take point. Suba, stick with Korone in the rear and cover us.”
As the noontime sun hung over Rratice, most of the other fires in the village had burned out, leaving only thin trails of smoke that slithered up into the air like snakes.
We took up a position in a house along one of the two roads out of the village. The scent of hay mingled with the distinct aura of aged oak that permeated through the worn walls. Meanwhile, the brick fireplace was full of nothing but bones, ash, and bits of trash. A farmer most likely used to live here, but it was someone else who used the fireplace.
Over the hearth hung two picture frames. At least, there used to be two frames. One frame showcased the face of Tokino Sora in black and white, donning her trademark Soravka hat with a smile brighter than the lights of Hendlgrad. A rifle was slung casually over her shoulder, ready to shoot any Royalists lurking nearby.
The other frame would have contained a photo of Grand Marshal Yagoo, as it did in countless other households throughout the Federation. However, this frame had been removed from its rightful place, leaving behind nothing but a stark outline etched on a wall stained with soot.
Whether the fleeing owner prioritized saving the Grand Marshal’s image or someone else deemed him unworthy of his position next to Comrade Tokino would forever remain an enigma. Perhaps the Rrats loved Sora and the Revolution, but hated Yagoo and the Federation that followed.
I had Korone set up on the second floor with her M84 trained on the road, while Suisei stood guard at the front door with her shotgun. My post was at another window facing the road at the ground floor, waiting for updates from Botan over the radio.
“You know what this reminds me of, kombat?” Subaru asked as she leaned next to the window opposite me, rifle cradled in both hands. “That village south of the capital we holed up in. What was the name again…? Haato-something…”
“Haatopolje,” I said, recalling the name of the place the Second Army crossed just after the Nijis handed our asses to us during the Kroniigovina Emergency - when they first invaded.
What was supposed to be the First People’s Offensive had been smashed by Niji air power and armor support, running us all the way north to the capital. Subaru was still a company commander (before they turned that rank into ‘first lieutenant’), and our unit was among those supposed to hold out in Haatopolje and other places until the rest of the army retreated and re-organized into a proper defensive line.
“Yeah. I can’t believe we have to do this all over again,” she said, before loading a shell into her M70’s underbarrel grenade launcher. “I hate waiting around.”
By ‘again,’ she was talking about how our unit had to wait in ambush, watching helplessly as Niji soldiers ravaged Haatopolje - frustrated that they couldn’t attack our fortified positions in the nearby hills without taking too many losses. They had captured some of our comrades from units that had been left behind during the retreat, so they lined them up in the village square and shot them one by one. The Nijis were baiting us into attacking them, and they made sure we heard each and every gunshot.
But it was Subaru who gave the order to stay still.
“Are you saying we should attack?” I asked. “If the Pekos are as ragtag as Botan says, we might be able to take them.”
For a moment, she seemed to consider the possibility. Perhaps to make up for the past. But ultimately, Subaru shook her head. “Unless something bad happens, it’d be better if we just let them pass.”
In Haatopolje, we waited for half a day, by which time the Nijis had already killed all the POWs. Our ambush positions were too well fortified, however, and that spooked the enemy long enough to stay still for two days until they got armor support.
Those two days were enough for the Second Army to get itself together. When we eventually took Haatopolje back after Operation Bright Parade, we didn’t take any prisoners either. Subaru gave the order to do that too.
“Kombat,” my former CO whispered, slinging her rifle on her shoulder. “Take this…”
It was the satchel she had before we crossed into Rrtaovo. The way she handed it to me, right under the window pane, had an air of mystery to it. The bag was small enough to fit in a pocket, and it felt light in my hand. It seemed to contain papers, maybe a book.
“What are you handing this to me for?” I asked. “Is this related to the… the ‘thing’?”
Subaru gave me a slight nod. “If anything happens to me, burn it.”
“Jebote… (Fuck…) Suba, what are you talking about?”
“I’ve been telling you, kombat. I have a bad feeling about all of this. Everything just feels off. Promise me. Promise me that you’ll do it.”
“What’s going on with you?” I asked. “If anything, it’s you who feels off…”
“Just listen! Please…”
When Subaru said that, her eyes glittered in a way I’d never seen in a long time. That slight frown on her face, and how her brow furrowed… it was the exact same face she made when The War ended.
In other words, it looked as if she was about to cry.
“If anything happens to me, burn this bag,” she said, holding my hand. “Burn it, and keep an eye on-”
It was then that someone knocked on a wall. Both of us looked; it was Suisei, holding two bandage rolls.
“Kapetan,” she said at the doorway. “May I come in?”
“Uh, yeah, of course Hoshimachi,” I said, beckoning her to me. “What is it?”
At the same time, I hid the satchel behind my back. I gave Subaru a side glance, and saw that she had changed the anguished look on her face to something more casual. It was something only meant for me, not for Hoshimachi. Why?
The Party member cleared her throat. “Sorry, I forgot to hand out some of the basic supplies. I was thinking we might get into action, so… here!”
She handed us the bandage rolls, before opening a satchel that bore the Red Triangle of the Federal Medical Corps. It meant she was a volunteer, making her an “upstanding citizen” in both the political and civic sense.
“I also have gauze, patches… morphine? Anyone want morphine?” She pulled out a couple of syrettes. “We’re in a village, so we might get separated. You might need something quick in case you get hit.”
“No, Suisei, we’ll be fine with the bandages,” I said. “Thanks. Hand some of the supplies to Koro.”
“Already did, kapetan. How about you, Subaru? Need anything?”
Subaru stared at her for a moment, as if considering whether to answer or not. “No, I’m fine, Hoshimachi. Thank you.”
Though it didn’t show outright, I knew that the way Subaru looked at our medic was cold. Very cold. But they were so buddy-buddy up on the hill earlier. What happened?
I wanted to ask the two what was going on when the radio crackled. Botan sure had an impeccable sense of timing.
“Lion, come in. What’s happening?”
“Kapetan! The Pekos, they’re… they’re being attacked,” she said, the sounds of gunfire and static in the background. “Can’t make out who just yet… but they’re sending the rabbits across the square. I think they’re… they’re going to hold here at the church, over!”
“Then pull out! What are you waiting for?”
“They’re too close, kombat, I can’t— ah, jebote…”
“Lion? Lion! What’s happening? Botan!”
“They’re trying to get up the tower but I’ve… I’ve blocked the door. I don’t know how long it’ll take them to get in.”
Shit. My scout was trapped in a church full of Pekos that were being attacked by an unknown party. At the very least, we had the element of surprise. If we assaulted from the back while they were engaging whatever it was that was attacking them from the front, we might win.
“Lion, hold out as long as you can. We’re coming to get you,” I said.
“Copy, kombat. It’s getting really busy here, so I hope you’d hurry.”
“You got it.”
I put the radio away, before turning to our medic.
“Hoshimachi, get Koro. We’re going into the village.”
Suisei nodded, while Subaru blew air out of her mouth slowly.
“You think it’s the Rrats?” she asked.
“Beats me. We’ll find out soon enough. Let’s just hope they don’t shoot us too.”
Urban combat - every commander’s nightmare. Traditional battle tactics are thrown out of the window as combat becomes multidimensional. Left flank and right flank become irrelevant, replaced by the looming threat of second-story windows, hidden corners, and innocuous-looking doors potentially sealing a machine gun two. Death.
Subaru and I had been through our share of this special kind of hell during Operation Bright Parade and the Ichikara Campaign. Yet each new urban encounter was a fresh kind of horror.
We were facing an especially dubious situation. Intelligence on the church’s layout was sketchy, based on assumptions. Maybe a series of small rooms in the rear, perhaps an altar flanked by rows of pews up front, possibly an upper level with a balcony overlook? The enemy count inside was equally uncertain. A dozen maybe? Less?
Only the plan was straightforward: Breach, clear toward the altar, have Koro set up covering fire, while Suisei, Subaru, and I retrieved Botan. Then get out of there ASAP before we got dragged into the crossfire between the Pekos and whoever was attacking them - a risk we couldn’t afford.
Nobody was guarding the back of the church. We didn’t have the time to wonder if it was dumb luck, so we climbed over the walls amid the echoing gunfire out front, before stacking up at the locked back door.
With Korone covering me, I kicked the door three times until the old bolt gave way. Subaru and Suisei went in swiftly after.
“Room clear!” echoed Subaru's voice - it was just a kitchen leading onto another chamber.
“Koro! On me!” My call cut through silence like a blade. The essence in these moments was surprise, and we had to hurry. “Cover that doorway!”
“Aye, aye, captain!” Her M-84 trained on any potential threats.
I advanced through what unfolded as a narrow passage illuminated faintly by a singular bulb. At its end stood one door - likely the priest’s quarters - and another path winding toward the altar out front.
But then I found an odd sight: a teenager clad in a blue tracksuit and army helmet clutching his rifle with an air of awkwardness. Just a boy - cannon fodder deployed as a rear guard.
“HANDS IN THE AIR!” I yelled. “DO IT NOW!”
The weapon clattered to the ground before any thought of resistance could seize him.
“Sui! Suba! Get his gun,” I commanded. “Hurry and stack up on that-”
But my command was cut short. Another figure walked into the hallway - a bearded Peko who raised his gun without hesitation upon seeing us.
“Agh, Jebote!” I yelled. “FIRE!”
The room erupted in violence once more; we showered the Peko with bullets until he crumpled against the door of the priest’s quarters with an unceremonious thud.
Unfortunately, the younger Peko saw all of this happen too. Spurned perhaps by horror and a desire for vengeance, he tried picking up his rifle - but we were much faster with our triggers. He was dead before his knees even got off the ground.
“Tsk…” I hated killing kids. I’d killed enough of them already in Ichikara… “Sui, Suba! Get Koro to the Altar - go!”
Our squad had no time to consider the men we downed. Stepping over them, we went out to the altar up front. In front of it was the table, a stone slab cluttered with an array of religious items - bronze chalices beside well-thumbed bibles and symbolic triangles.
Korone acted without hesitation or reverence. With a sweep of her M84’s barrel, she sent those holy artifacts tumbling off the edge before opening fire on the Pekos hiding behind the pews. Three of them were dead before they hit the ground, and their squadmates scrambled for cover behind the stone pillars that framed the church’s entrance.
“More Nijis!” one cried out as he fired his rifle. Korone’s rebuttal was swift - a burst of machine gun fire, and he was dead too.
It was an average sized church, barely 50, 55 meters - danger traveled fast in this small space. The tempest of gunfire sent flakes of plaster flying off the walls, while asbestos covered the shoulders of my tunic with a thin coat of dust. Even the church’s large bronze triangle was shot beyond recognition. Bullets bore no respect for holiness, it seemed.
To our left was the objective - the stairs leading up to the balcony level and where Botan would be. But the rat-tat-tat from Korone’s gun and the return shots from the Pekos turned that route into something akin to divine trial by fire.
“Subaru, Suisei! Get up there; I’ll provide covering fire,” I said. “Get some grenades on those assholes.”
“You got it, kombat,” Subaru said with her weapon primed: an underbarrel grenade launcher ready to sing. “Hoshimachi, get that shotgun ready; take point.”
“Captain, I’m almost out,” Korone said. “I’ll need to reload!”
"Now - move!" My voice cut through the chaos as I popped up from behind our meager cover and sprayed the enemy lines. Suisei and Subaru dashed left; my rifle barked and bit down Pekos foolish enough to try stopping them.
Korone was already working her M84 like clockwork. Within seconds she had fed it a new belt. The minute her bipod touched the stone slab, she shredded a Peko darting between the pillars.
In another world or time, maybe the last three Pekos would have surrendered. But instead, they lifted their weapons to fire, only to explode in a plume of fire and shrapnel courtesy of Subaru from above.
“That’ll show ‘em!” crackled over the comms system - that was Subaru. “Lion’s in the tower room, right?”
“Lion! Report!” I called into my own radio handset.
“I’m here but, the Pekos… they know that too,” her voice was calm, but the banging on the door behind her wasn’t. “You guys need to hurry; there’s too many of them out there.”
"Hold tight; Duck and Comet are headed to you," I reassured her calmly before opening a new line of communication: "Duck, clean house."
"Copy, kombat! On it," came back quick and clear before silence took hold once more on my end.
"Captain!" Korone's warning rang out suddenly. “We have a runner!”
“What?”
It turned out that one Peko survived the grenade blast. Camo pants covered in soot and blood, the poor bastard ran, no, bolted for the church entrance. Korone shot at him, only to miss as he got behind the massive wooden door.
“Ahhh, shit!” she yelled before banging her hand on the altar. “Go to hell! Faq you!”
Almost immediately after, a cacophony of gunshots echoed from outside, followed by a chorus of frenzied yelling — then more shots fired. Abrupt silence descended. Korone and I exchanged glances; whoever was about to breach the church door was whatever attacked the Pekos.
“To the remaining Zečnici scum inside the church,” an unknown woman’s voice hissed through my radio with chilling nonchalance “Surrender now or else we’ll torch you where you stand.”
Flustered, I demanded into the handset, “Who the hell is this, and how do you have our frequency?” I asked.
“Eh? What the fuck? You don’t sound like a rabbit; you sound like a virgin!” the woman said. “Who is this?”
“Because I’m not a rabbit, govnar!” I yelled. “I’m Oozoran!”
“Ehh? Oostaše? In these parts?”
“Hey, you two! Shut the fuck up, peko!” a third voice shouted from the radio, a man this time. “You fucking Niji Rrats, working with Oostaše bitches! I know you’re whores, but this is a new low, peko!”
Then an indignant shout pierced through - “Oi! Who the fuck are you calling ‘Oostaše,’ huh, you zečnik bitch?!” That had Subaru’s signature fiery kick behind it alright - and her blood was at boiling point. “My grandfather was a partisan, you long-eared piece of shit!”
“Pusi mi kurac, peko! (Suck my dick, peko!)” he spat back. “Like I give a damn; all you Oostaše bitches are the same. But you sound like a good kurva - you’ll be shitting rabbits once I’m done with you, peko!”
“Mars u pizdu materinu, shuba!” Subaru yelled. “May the undertakers fuck your mother when they bury her! May the grave itself fuck her, and may God and the Devil take turns fucking her in her fat fangs…!”
Hearing this verbal tidal wave of epithets firing off quicker than any weapon could shoot made me facepalm in disbelief. When Subaru got going, there was rarely anything that could stop her.
“Jebo ti konj mrtvu mater krvavim kurcem na sestrinom grobu!” she yelled. “Hoshimachi, open that door!”
What followed could best be described as a mix of gunshots, shouting, and cries of pain. I imagined Subaru kicking through the door and shooting up every last Peko bastard that dared cross her. In this kind of situation, it was better to leave her to her own devices. I just hoped that she didn’t plan on doing anything too… excessive.
“Captain,” Korone warned. “Someone’s coming in through the door!”
Mid-action, radio slipping from my hand back to its holster, I snatched up my rifle just as a squad decked out in woodland camo barged into the sacred space. All of them were wearing black balaclavas, tailored with holes on top to make way for their rat ears. Red-and-yellow badges emblazoned their shoulders, spotlighting a black mouse silhouette.
At the center of this formation was a girl barely five feet tall. Red hair with black and white highlights cascaded down her shoulders like flames, and a black beret with the same red-and-yellow badge was perched between her ears at just the right angle.
Her boots were black as pitch, polished to such a high shine that I could almost see my reflection as she paced up to the altar. I decided to do the same, and almost immediately her men trained their guns on me, the clatter of their CA-70 rifles echoing through the empty church.
As she got right in front of me, I noticed her right hand hover above what seemed like an artifact more than a weapon: a Mauser C96 broomhandle pistol holstered at her side.
“Who are you, and why shouldn’t I shoot you?” she demanded with a peculiar accent I couldn't place. A melodic drawl that was as intimidating as it was exotic.
Instinct kicked in - these were unmistakably soldiers from the Rratovo Liberation Army. The rebels.
With deliberate slowness, I extended my right hand towards her just like Nodoka explained to me days ago. "The River Ibar runs red," I proclaimed carefully.
An agonizing pause fell between us. Did I screw up the passphrase somehow?
But then her hand clasped mine firmly.
“For we gave all our blood for Rratovo,” she responded with a ghost of a smile touching her lips and teal eyes piercing into mine. “I suppose you’re our friends from Hendlgrad.”
“The Chief Executive sends Her warmest regards,” I replied before formally introducing myself.
Her comrades seemed to relax at this exchange so they lowered their weapons, albeit tentatively.
“Komandir roty Hakos Baelz - Squeak Company, RLA Second Motorized Partisan Division,” she announced crisply with a quick salute before glancing over my shoulder towards Korone who was dismounting her machine gun from its vantage point atop the altar. “I thought there would be more of you.”
“Oh, there are, komrot. They’re just up in the tower,” assured her as my hand moved instinctively toward my radio. “Duck, Duck. What’s taking so long? Come in.”
A sense of unease began bubbling within me as silence answered my call signs.
“What…? Duck, report!”
When no response came through again… a knot tightened in my stomach.
“Something wrong, kapetan?” Commander Baelz questioned with furrowed brows.
Suddenly every nerve-ending fired off warnings – something was definitely not right here.
She bounded up the stairs to the balcony with swift determination, her boots thudding against each step. I was right on her heels. Baelz and her soldiers fell in line behind us.
We sailed to the end of the balcony, where there was a door with the knob blown off with a shotgun.
Inside lay a grim tableau. Three Pekos had met their demise in that room: two sprawled across the floor while another sat slumped within an open closet's dark embrace, as if offered sanctuary in death.
Botan occupied one corner of this macabre scene. She writhed in agony as she clutched at her shoulder wound - blood slowly seeping out to form a dark and growing halo around her.
But next to her was something far worse than anything I could’ve imagined.
Subaru, my second-in-command, laying still in Suisei’s arms. Both of their uniforms were stained crimson-black with blood.
For a moment, I wondered if what was happening was real. When I didn’t wake up and remained in that room, I beckoned Korone to get Botan while I knelt down beside Subaru. The blood that stained my hands as I touched her was still warm.
“Suba...” my voice cracked as tears threatened to burst from my eyes at any moment. “What did these bastards do to you...?”
“Kapetan, kapetan…” Suisei sobbed, clutching onto her as if sheer will would bring her back to life. “A Peko was hiding in the closet, and–”
I ignored her as my senses began to numb, zeroing in on finding out what exactly killed my former commander. When I pulled open Subaru’s tunic, there was a mess of entrails spilling out from where they didn’t belong. It was like a butcher had split her stomach open and tore her apart.
“Disinfect the wound and get a bandage on her,” I mumbled, the words spilling out of my mouth without any prior thought.
Suisei stared at me for a few moments in disbelief. “K-Kapetan, she’s… she’s dead,” she said.
“What are you talking about? Aren’t you the fucking medic?” I roared. “Do something!”
I dug into my own pockets for bandages. Fishing out the roll Suisei gave me earlier, I pressed it onto Subaru’s wound to stem the bleeding. But as much as I tried, there was just too much blood pouring out of her stomach. Even after Suisei relented and began stuffing her bandages onto Subaru’s stomach, they got covered in red all the same. It was useless.
Kneeling still, I stared at Subaru’s expression. Her eyes were wide open, vacant. I reached forward and took hold of her body from Suisei. The medic made a few more apologies, before standing up and going to Botan and Korone with her remaining bandages.
But as she did so, I felt the warmth of a hand on my cheek. Subaru.
Her eyes shifted to me, and she was trying to say something with the last of her breath.
“U-Ubij…” Her mouth moved, and I could scarcely make out the words.
“Suba, what…?”
But that was it. Subaru was gone, leaving only a world of regrets and unanswered questions. Slowly, her hand slid off my cheek as it went limp.
The moment of Oozora Subaru’s death had come and gone. The room filled with the noise of Suisei giving frantic instructions to Korone on how to stop Botan’s bleeding, and the tapping of boots as more people came in through the door. But my mind only heard the din of blood rushing through my head as it tried to decipher just what Subaru’s last words were.
At the same time, I felt that this was all my fault. That was a commander’s burden - the fate of my men was sealed upon my head. Had we properly scouted this village, had I gone with Hoshimachi instead of her… maybe Subaru would’ve still lived.
I was stupid. I was so stupid…
“Kapetan?” someone asked from behind me. Another woman. “Kapetan…”
My mind couldn’t grasp what was being said. But soon, a hand placed itself on top of my shoulder. I glanced, and it was the RLA commander.
“What is it, komrot?” I asked.
Baelz had a slight frown on her face as her gaze remained directed at Subaru. Somehow, it was much sadder than it looked at first glance. “You loved her, didn’t you?”
I felt myself leaning away slightly, taken aback by the sudden question. “What makes you think that…?”
“Because you’re crying,” she said.
It was true. I didn’t know it, but tears had been falling from my eyes the entire time. But being so drained by death, all I could do was give a weak nod.
Subaru’s eyes were still open, so I put my hand over them and pulled down her eyelids like how they did it in the movies. It was so easy. If I tried hard enough, I could fool myself into thinking she was just sleeping. Soon, she would wake up again, either raring for a drink or looking for another Peko to cuss out.
Why Subaru? I asked myself as I laid her on the floor, and began wiping my blood-stained hands with a rag.
Baelz called for one of her soldiers to grab stretchers. Why indeed.
The Rrats lined up the dead Pekos in the village square like playing cards, each of them decked out as if they raided every military base in Rratovo before attacking us.
They had an odd mix of uniforms and gear - camo flak jackets, boots, and helmets mixed in with cargo pants, plaid shirts, and berets. One of them was wearing an imported violet pair of Adidas track pants, which a Rratovan soldier gingerly pulled off to avoid getting blood on it before stuffing it into his own backpack. Vae victis.
“That was a nice pair of pants, captain,” Korone said as she puffed her cigarette.
“I guess, yeah,” I said, doing the same.
My squad and I were sitting under the shade of a tree, getting a breather or two after the frenzy earlier in the day. Botan was in a rebel medical truck, while Subaru was laying on a stretcher near us, covered in a white sheet. We hadn’t decided on burying her yet.
“Does Subaru have a family, kapetan?” Suisei asked, arms folded. She had shed her tunic, wearing only an unstained white undershirt with sky-blue stripes, her shotgun slung over her exposed shoulder.
“A mother. In Baruglave,” I said, before wondering how exactly I was going to tell Miss Shigure that her daughter got gunned down by rabbits in Rratovo.
“So, are you going to inform her, or…?”
“Well, if you’re asking how Chickenfeather would do it, I tell them what happened, and they would have a letter telefaxed. A week, maybe two. The intel section has to make sure it’s okay to tell somebody outside the company, you see.”
Having Chickenfeather inform her about it would be too cold, however. I wanted to tell Subaru’s mother the news myself, even though I knew that it would either make her fly into a rage at my incompetence, or break down right then and there.
“So, Hoshimachi,” I continued. “You two went in there, there were only two Pekos, but one was hiding in the closet. Right?”
The medic nodded. She had told me this story as we left the church, but I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything.
“Then, he shot Subaru. Botan came out from the other door and got shot too. So you killed him, is that right?”
“Yes, kapetan.”
“Did you know that Subaru was actually still alive?”
“Huh?” Suisei’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Just for a little while,” I said. “She was telling me something. But I didn’t catch it.”
Actually, I caught some of it. Ubij. Kill. I definitely heard that. Kill what? I still remembered how Subaru’s mouth moved and there must’ve been something else…
“It’s my fault, kapetan,” Suisei said, glancing toward the church. “I wasn’t watching my corners, and…”
I shook my head. “Stop. Don’t worry about it.” Part of me wanted to chew her out, but what good would that bring? Nothing but bad feelings. Subaru would still be dead.
While we were talking, Korone ambled to the piles of supplies, armor, and weapons the Rrats had scavenged off the Pekos. The one Rratovan soldier standing guard didn’t seem to mind her rifling through those supplies. Perhaps because we saw him steal those pants from earlier.
I walked over to her, half to clear my head, and half to see if there was anything useful. Maybe something that would identify these guys. It was clear that these dead Pekos weren’t professional soldiers, but ragtag militias made up mostly of people from around here. Farmboys, laborers, and other assholes desperate, stupid, or angry enough to shoot up Rrats.
Yet Subaru died at the hands of these motherfuckers. These zecniči. She survived fighting crack Niji troops in Atlan and Ichikara, only to get shot by a bunch of carrot-eating hicks playing dress-up.
Though most of them looked like ragtags, there was a certain detail they all had that caught my eye: black badges featuring a leaping rabbit surrounded by golden letters spelling out ‘Garda Nousagi’ - the name of the zečnik force Pekora Usada strung together herself to resist Niji occupation of South Pekoland during the Second Homeland War. They were guerillas skilled in ambush and infiltration tactics. The same tactics that helped them do the famed capture of the Obsydia Brigade in ‘84. Without firing a single shot.
But any fan of the legendary unit could tell you that these yokels were no Garda Nousagi. Not even close. They lacked the polish, elan, and beards that the real unit was known for. Even the badges they wore were just as shoddy as they were - knockoffs made in someone’s basement in an attempt to invoke the same mythical status for themselves, even though they lacked any real training or experience.
Or maybe these badges were talismans for good luck. I remembered a trend where Pekolanders wore Usada’s picture under their shirts, believing it would protect them from Niji bullets. They ended up as dead as these yokels were. These yokels who also had Usada’s picture in their shirt pockets, as if she were the patron saint of War.
Though she did not bless them with invulnerability, it seemed she had blessed them with grade-A, top-of-the-line weaponry.
“Captain,” Korone said, picking up a black M-70 with an ACOG scope. “Can you believe this? These shooters still have factory grease on them.” She took a tentative sniff of the rifle’s receiver. “I think I’m smelling cosmoline…”
Either these hicks raided a TO base, or somebody had armed them. Maybe Usada herself, or somebody up in the food chain in Pekograde.
Bastards. I wanted to shoot all of them. Anyone who had anything to do with killing Subaru.
“Guys…” It was Suisei. She was walking over to us while pointing at somewhere south. “The Rrats are gathering there for some reason.”
A small crowd had formed around what seemed to be the village well.
“You two,” I said to Korone and Suisei. “Check on Botan.”
As both of them answered in the affirmative, I made my way to the soldiers. They seemed to be abuzz about what was inside the well - an old thing made of wood and weathered white brick.
What could be in that well to stir them up like this? When I got within a few feet of it, I instantly knew what it was - a strong scent of iron that almost singed the nostrils.
Blood.
Three Rratovani were at the edge of the well, shining a flashlight inside the murky darkness. I peered over too, and there I saw bodies. Bodies of dead Rratovan men, one on top of the other. Thrown over the edge like garbage.
That was when I remembered the village hall. Most of the bodies up there were women and children. It seemed that the Rrats had found where the men ended up.
“Strewth! They fahkin’ killed them!” One of the Rratovan soldiers yelled in a language I did not understand. Perhaps it was Gjuhe, the native tongue of Rratovo. “Threw them in the bloody damn well, they did!”
Having found out the fate of their fellow Rratovani, it was no surprise that they would be out for blood.
It didn’t take long for them to exact vengeance. One soldier shouted, and someone was thrown out the back of a truck - the Pekolander that ran out of the church earlier. He was dragged and thrown to the rim of the well, where one soldier yanked off his balaclava. It was a Peko teenage boy with short brown hair, maybe 15 or 16 years-old.
Another fucking kid. And they were going to lynch him.
I couldn’t do anything but stand still as they forced the boy on his knees, shouting a myriad of obscenities.
From the direction of the church came Baelz, flanked by two of her soldiers. Her eyes caught mine, then the crowd next to me.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
“We found weah the bloody Pekos threw all the blokes into,” one of the soldiers said. “Piled them up in theah liyyke pickles, yeah?”
Baelz looked at him, then at the Pekolander, before looking over the edge of the well. Her grip on the well tightened as she processed what she saw.
A minute passed by without a word, and she let go. But then, she went up to the Peko - grabbing him by the ears with a grip strong enough to crush cartilage.
“You rootin’ zecnik bitch!” she yelled, before shifting to Peko-Oozoran. “Tell me where the rest of the villagers are - right now!”
“I don’t...” The Peko made labored breaths between words. “I don’t know, peko!”
“You don’t know? You don’t know?! Well!” With a snap of Baelz’s fingers, one of her soldiers walked up next to her, holding a carrot so orange and perfect. Like a carrot you’d see in a commercial. “Why don’t we jog your memory a little, huh?”
“Please, no!” the Peko begged. “I beg you, peko, please!”
Instead of stopping her men, Baelz was going to help them kill this boy.
I wanted to stop her. Stop this madness.
But these bastards also killed Subaru.
“Komrot,” I interjected. “I know where the other villagers are.”
She turned to me. “What?”
“The village hall, on top of the hill over there,” I said, pointing in that direction. “Women and children, all boarded up and suffocated. They might’ve used gas.”
The RLA commander gaped somewhat as I mentioned the gas. But soon, she nodded with a bitter look on her face. As if she had heard the exact same story a hundred, maybe a thousand times before this.
“You bloody little rat dog cunt!” she screeched at the Peko, who trembled with every word. “So that’s why your truck outside of town was full of TV’s!”
The Pekolander begged and pleaded with Baelz for mercy, tears streaming down his face as he tried to explain himself.
“I swear, it wasn’t us, peko! They were all gone when we got here!” he gasped out in a desperate hope that he might be able to convince her somehow.
But Baelz glared daggers into him like she wanted nothing more than to tear him apart right then and there.
“Why don’t I have my man here shove this carrot up your ass?” she asked in a serious tone. “You Pekos all love shoving carrots up your asses, right?”
So that was what the carrot was for. Was she serious? Just the thought of it being used that way made my skin crawl with revulsion.
But even so... there was still some nagging sense of familiarity about it all too. Like I had heard something similar somewhere before, but couldn’t put my finger on where, exactly.
“Please don’t do this to me, peko,” the Pekolander begged. “I... I swear it wasn’t us!”
And then it hit me - a snippet from Dnevnikki I watched while I was at the West German Embassy in Holodrava. Something about a Pekolander who had supposedly gotten a big carrot shoved up his ass by some Rrats... I would’ve never thought that such a ridiculous story would’ve become a big deal down here.
Baelz laughed at the poor boy’s pleas, already moving on to something even darker.
“Save your excuses for the devil!” she spat. “Rratko! Pacov! Give him the necklace!”
Something about the mention of a ‘necklace’ struck a sense of utter terror in the Pekolander’s heart, as his whimpering pleas escalated into full-blown screams and the thrashing about of a wild animal. “No! No! PLEASE! Anything but that! PLEASE HAVE MERCY, PEKO!”
But this display did nothing to deter the Rrats, who worked quickly and efficiently together to fit a black rubber tire around the Peko’s chest before dousing him with a Jerry can’s worth of petrol.
Seeing this, the other Rratovani soldiers circled around the macabre scene, chanting and jeering as if they were participating in some sort of dark ritual brought to life by their rage and fueled by their insatiable desire for revenge over what had been done to Rratice.
In the middle of all this chaos, Baelz lit up a cigarette, watching on with an air of indifference that made everything feel somehow worse. She kept her silence until the chanting and the swears and the calls to BURN THAT BLEEDIN’ PEKO WHORE RIGHT NOW reached a fever point, as if waiting for the perfect moment to speak.
“Mercy? Oh, I’ll give you mercy alright,” she said, each word cutting through the noise, before taking a drag on her cigarette to stoke its embers. “As much mercy as you showed Rratice.”
“NOOO!!!” the Peko screamed for the final time.
With a flick of her thumb, the cigarette flew from Baelz’s hand into the air like a comet fading in the void. When it landed on the black tire the Peko wore, damn it if it didn’t create one hell of an inferno.
Just imagine it. A tire painted black as midnight and stained with all kinds of filth and grime, now burning brighter than any star you’ve ever seen in your entire life. At its core lay a Pekolander who’d worn it once upon a time, now screaming his guts out as he was consumed by flames that never seemed to end.
At her feet, Baelz threw a card - Six of Clubs, with a logo of her battalion in the back. It was a death card, left behind so that the Pekos knew who did this.
It was beautiful, really - in a twisted sort of way that made you want to laugh and cry all at once.
This poor rabbit bitch killed Subaru. This poor rabbit bitch killed Rratice. “Peko motherfucker had it coming,” I thought to myself, watching as the flames ate him alive in a final blaze of glory - a fitting end to those who tried playing at genocidaire.
Yet, when he finally fell to the ground, writhing and shaking like some sort of convulsing worm, something strange came to mind.
I should have felt a sense of satisfaction at seeing her suffer like this. I should’ve also felt a sense of indignation, that this was all a violation of not just human rights, but the common decency of man.
But instead, I felt nothing. No joy, no sadness, no rage. Just emptiness.
“You smell that?” Baelz asked.
The acrid odor of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air around us, mixing together with the stench of burning rubber and gasoline vapors into one nauseating concoction. Of course I could smell it.
“Awful, isn’t it?”
That was when I realized it. I wasn’t standing on some dusty village square in Rratovo anymore.
No. Somehow, I had stumbled into Hell.
/
Tom Brokaw: So, let me get this straight, Marshal… Yah-goh—
Grand Marshal Yagoo: Yagoo.
Tom Brokaw: Marshal Yagoo, sorry. I just wanted to say that your country has just gone through the biggest war in Europe since World War Two...
Grand Marshal Yagoo: Yes, yes. Very devastating. We are still recovering.
Tom Brokaw (hesitates): I understand that. Uh, what I meant to say is during this, this… critical time… there have been reports of your deteriorating health—
Grand Marshal Yagoo (shaking head): False, false. No truth, no truth.
Tom Brokaw: So you deny the –
Grand Marshal Yagoo: Yes, yes.
Tom Brokaw: Okay. But, in case… something unexpected happens—
Grand Marshal Yagoo: Nothing unexpected will happen. Nothing unexpected.
Tom Brokaw: Sorry, please let me finish…
(A party official with blue hair and glasses can be seen whispering into Grand Marshal Yagoo’s ear, and he nods.)
Grand Marshal Yagoo: Ogey…
Tom Brokaw: As I was asking, Marshal Yagoo, is there already a succession process in place in case there is a need… for a new leader in Holoslavia?
Grand Marshal Yagoo (nodding): Socialist Federal Republic of Holoslavia is democratic country.
Tom Brokaw: Yes, yes, we understand that. We just want to know, Marshal Yagoo, who you’ve already chosen to lead one of the world’s biggest socialist republics following the USSR…
Grand Marshal Yagoo (shaking head): Cannot say, cannot say.
Tom Brokaw: Why?
(Grand Marshal Yagoo stares directly at camera.)
Grand Marshal Yagoo: Because… if you saw what I see for future of Holoslavia, it would scare you.
(Almost immediately, the same party official from earlier whispers into Marshal Yagoo’s ear again. He nods before speaking.)
Grand Marshal Yagoo: Apologies, I misspoke. English is second language.
Tom Brokaw (nodding): I, I – I understand, Marshal Yagoo. Let’s move on to the next question: Tourism in Holoslavia…