RED BANNER
By Red Star
SOUTHEAST ASIA, A.C. 195
Captain Jonathan Sanders climbed out of his Prism Tank, and hit the ground, stretching out his legs. Behind him, he could hear the sound of the Mobile Construction Vehicle unfurl itself and spread into the clearing that his tanks had blasted out with those amazing weapons that made the smallest sliver of light into a deadly weapon. Tomorrow, the barracks would be constructed, with a power-plant to boot. But for now, the 28th Armored Brigade of the United States Army, or rather now, the remains of the 11th Allied Army, was ordered to bed down wherever they found suitable for rest. The Captain chose to sleep atop his tank again, a habit he picked up in a brief tour in San Antonio. Good old San Antonio. She had the hope of the nation in her, when Michael Dugan, the long missing President of the United States, had showed up there with fresh American Divisions. Yes, for many patriots, San Antonio seemed to be the light of hope for the rest of the country, indeed the free world.
Good old hellhole San Antonio.
Sanders had been at the Alamo that day. He had watched the Red Air Force drop the troops, a terrifying mix of loyal Conscripts and the dangerous Tesla Troops, in front of the fort. The Captain cheered loudly as the Soviets were mowed down by a mixture of SEAL machine guns and Prism Towers. He didn't pay any attention when an air-defense officer noted that there had been another plane out there. Sanders rubbed his eyes wearily; his hands barely felt the black whiskers beginning to grow out of his cheeks, for they had become raw and tough as he fought against the Soviet Union. He looked through his fingers out at the Prism Blaster, and almost cried. A bus. A damn bus. The plane had dropped members of the Psychic Corps. One of them hijacked the minds of a schoolbus full of children. He and his comrades climbed aboard, hid, and simply drove through the damn gates toward the President. The Captain had heard shouts as he sat in his Grizzly Tank. "Mr. President, what's wrong?" "Mr. Pres…Mr. President! Where are you going?"
"My God, the bus! Shoot the bus!!" "We can't, for Chrissakes, there are kids in there!!"
"Mr. President, what are you doing?" His interest tickled, Captain Sanders had opened the hatch and turned to see the President climb into the bus. The bus then turned around and drove toward him, with Secret Service agents running alongside, shouting at the driver to stop, pleading with the President to get off. Sanders had felt the blood drain from his face as he watched the bus pass. There, at the third seat down, sat the President of the United States of America, beside a fat kid who was eating a cookie and trying to get the Commander in Chief interested in the "Magic" cards he held with his left hand.
Malinsky. Major General of the Red Army Alexander Malinsky.
Sanders was astonished at hearing the name at an intelligence briefing, and
shivered. Malinsky was the one who had destroyed the Pentagon. While Premier
Alexei Romanov had given credit for the destruction of America's Atlantic Fleet
to Army General Vladimir, everyone, from the oldest fart in the Politburo to
the scum-of-the-earth Allied private knew that Malinsky was the reason for the
Soviet victory. Vladimir had fired a few missiles from his command ship and
hightailed it to a Soviet held airport, waiting for the right time to rush to
Moscow and claim all the glory. Malinsky, for some reason, then arrived in New
York City, fought off an entire Brigade of GI's and tanks, and drove to the
world trade center, where he destroyed the two massive buildings and promptly
set up some strange monstrosity of a weapon. American commanders threw
everything they had into the city to capture it. The Rocketeers, tanks,
IFV's,
Sanders was now too tired to think anymore about the great Malinsky, the Soviet General who proved adapt at every fighting branch there was.
He pulled a blanket over himself, and was soon drifting off to sleep in this strange new world. The Captain only dimly heard the sound of a T.V. his troops were watching.
"…I, Traize Kushrenada, swear to you, the people of the World Nation, that I will defend this planet, this glorious Earth, with every piece of my strength. The White Fang will be defeated only when we are united…"
I've assigned names to the roles that you play in Red Alert 2.
Alexander Malinsky-Soviet Commander
James Hawkins-Allied Commander