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General Petrovich's Cold Wind


Chicago Noise

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OOC:  This will be a character RP that takes place during my already completed expansion.  I will not be retconning anything, and this was the original story I came up with, I just felt as though I should complete the expansion so that I would not violate the rule of not controlling white space citizens.  Major plot points of this storyline have already been referenced through my news thread as my 7 posts, and this storyline will be considered closed.  Hope it's at least an enjoyable read, and if anyone has a problem with this being past tense in nature, please PM me and we can work out a solution.

 

IC:

 

April had come to Northeast Asia and as it did, the Siberian War had come to an end.  The Russian Empire had sent a massive invasion force across the Siberian DMZ and warred with the Japanese forces there.  As their southernmost lance pushed against the Japanese, the United Amur Republics dispatched Army Group Guan Dao, led by one of their top and most ambitious Generals, Koba Petrovich.  The fighting was intense and bloody, but the Imperial Russian forces were forced into retreat before their mad Emperor was assassinated in their homeland, ending the war.

 

Army Group Guan Dao turned back to the Amur, preparing to head back to their home, before Petrovich rerouted their return and proceeded to Birobidzhan, the traditional capital of the Jewish Autonomous Oblast.  Tanks, APC's, and other machines of war paraded through the streets on their way through, being cheered on by the inhabitants.  During the initial Siberian invasion before the establishment of the DMZ, the Imperials had used this area to stage a portion of their war effort, while also threatening to subjugate the whole of the Russian Far East.  It was in this way that General Petrovich was able to feel what it was to play the role of liberator, and though he enjoyed it, he had plans beyond the simple pleasure of celebrity.

 

Standing half-way out of the port atop a BTR-90, he calmly surveyed the curious denizens of the town.  Many celebrated, while others just stared, wondering what the meaning of this display was.  Having already had one of his subordinates make arrangements, the municipal leader of Birobidzhan, Yuri Girgorovich, greeted the General in the central square of the town.  As Grigorovich descended the steps from his administrative building, General Petrovich disembarked his perch on the IFV and intercepted Gigorovich with a firm handshake.  The two looked to the UAR media members on site, smiling for the photographs they would pass along to the National Media Bureau back home, a stamp on the end of the war.

 

When the cameras stopped flashing, Petrovich turned to face Grigorovich, "Now that that's over with, let us turn to the business my lieutenant discussed with you earlier."

 

Grigorovich produced a smirk. "Yes of course, this way," he replied, sweeping his arm up the steps to gesture into the building.  Grigorovich led, while Petrovich followed behind him, 4 commandos serving as his bodyguard in tow.  Grigorovich led the party to his office, poured the General a small glass of vodka (also taking a much fuller one for himself) and took a seat behind his desk, folding his hands behind his head and kicking his feet up.

 

"Please have a seat, comrade.  There is little in this world I enjoy more than business," Grigorovich said, before taking a hefty swig out of his glass.  "Perhaps this vodka, HEH HEH HEH!"  he laughed, his voice sounding wet already.  Petrovich refused his offer, preferring to stand, taking a small sip from his own glass, remarking to himself how lowly he thought of this man.

 

Grigorovich was not exactly the dashing type, mind you.  He was short and overweight, his worn suit vest's buttons straining not to pop, with a poorly shaven face to match his disheveled clothing.  His breath stank of the liquor he had already consumed prior to this meeting, with a rapidly balding head.  What hair was left on it was black (most likely dyed), and slicked back with far too much grease.

 

Petrovich stood in stark contrast.  He held a very commanding presence, his salt and pepper hair being groomed nicely beneath his officer's cap, with a clean shaven face and perfect posture.  His face portrayed to others his cold nature, the only time in recent memory anyone had seen it smile was for the publicity pictures just taken, in fact.  He stood tall at 6'4" and held one hand behind his back, the other leisurely spinning his glass.

 

"Yes, I can see that.  Now, if you remember, my lieutenant had come to you with a proposition for this region.  Something we could both benefit from."

 

"Haha!  Yes, comrade, yes.  I help swAY the people to unification, and your help me gain Amur's backing for my campaign to be their Premier in your *hiccup*, oh excuse me, government!"  Girgorovich made very big, sweeping gestures as he said all this, obviously enjoying himself and sounding very satisfied.

 

Petrovich's tone was still low and cold, "Yes, that is correct."

 

"Well than, my good man, looks like all that is left to discuss i---"  Before Grigorovich could continue, a sharp knocking came to the office door.  Petrovich's commandos turned with rifles brought to bear, but he simply rolled his eyes and waved them off.

 

"AH!  Those must be my other associates!  Nail, Ivan?  Is that you!?"  Grigorovich shouted. 

 

The reply came from behind the door, a deep voice shouted back, sounding irritated, "Of course it is, you ingrate!  When did you start locking your door?"

 

"OH!  Right, of course!  Comrade,"  Grigorovich motioned to one of the commandos, "Could you do me a favor and grab the door?"

 

The commando looked to Petrovich, who sighed and nodded.  The door was opened to reveal three men.  The two who came in side by side matched each other, the third did not.  Nail and Ivan both wore black suits with pin stripes, clean ties and nice dress shoes, though they did not have what you would call a 'clean looking' appearance.  Nail wore golden earrings and overly-lavish gold-and-diamond rings on many of his fingers, while Ivan had is long brown hair greased and held into a ponytail that descended below his back collar.

 

The third man wore the attire of a mercenary prepared for battle.  He stood as tall as Petrovich, towering above the two men he followed.  Wrapped about his face was a cream and brown colored shemagh, covering his ears, nape, nose mouth, and neck, leaving his eyes and hair exposed.  The hair was dark brown and shaven close to the scalp, with sharp eyebrows furrowed over piercing brown eyes.  He wore a forest camo combat vest over a black henley-type shirt with forest camo combat pants tucked into black combat boots.  He was armed as well.  A combat knife was strapped to one of his shoulders, a radio to the other, with a pistol holstered at his hip and a Galil slung around his back.

 

"JANEK!  JANEK SEGEV!  Glad you could join us!  Petrovich, these are my associates, Nail and Ivan Tretiak!  Brothers and lucrative financial backers, and friends of mine!"  Grigorovich rose from his seat, downing the rest of his drink as he did so.  "And this!" he exclaimed as he crossed the room and put his hands on the shoulders of the third man, "This is Janek Segev!  My right hand man!  Anything that needs done, I ask Janek to handle it, and he has never disappointed me!  Not once!  Have ya, Janek!?"

 

Segev turned his head and looked directly into Petrovich's eyes, not saying a word. 

 

"AHHHHH! Janek doesn't speak much, he's a man of action!  What's that thing you always say Janek?"

 

Janek turned his head back to the smiling Grigorovich, then spoke in a deep, even tone, "Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring."

 

"HAHA!  Yes!  Janek is just full of these sorts of sayings!  What's that from?"

 

"The Tanakh."

 

"HA-HEY!  Janek is Russian Yiddish!  He's full of those little things!  Not someone you invite to a party, but you stand him outside if you don't want anyone crashing it, you know what I mean?"

 

Janek turned his cunning gaze back to Petrovich, who produced a wry smile.  For the first time since being in this land, he had found someone who might be of real use to him.

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