The new, crescent moon was a slit of light in the great, velvety night,
like a rip in a blanket smothering the earth. Its feeble glow shone on a
great super-weapon building known only to many as the Psychic Dominator.
A small digital screen on the wall displays the numbers 00:05...
00:04...
00:03...
Time is ticking.
00:02...
00:01...
The radio came on. It was the new No. 1 from Propaganda.
Yuri rolled out of his bed, moaning about having to get up so early. "Remind me to mind-control the band Propaganda," he whispered in a soft, hoarse tone. "I must tell them... never to make another record..."
He pulled on a dark, heavy garment and attached his Hammer & Sickle badge to the collar. "And what's more," he said, "my radio alarm insists... on counting backwards. Slave!" he cried, turning to a man wearing a strange, quilted suit and a pair of goggles over it.
Yuri placed his hands over the man's temples. "You... will fix my radio alarm," he crooned. The man shivered, and Yuri released his fingers. "Oh, and how many times do I have to tell you... don't use my spare duvet as a hat. You look like an oven-ready chicken..."
The man started to pull off the outfit.
"No, stop... none of my minions may look as sharp as me..." Yuri grinned in his mirror and the slave recoiled in disgust. "Ah- you forget. One, I can read your mind all this time. And two, I am the proud owner of a staple gun. Any more of that and you won't have a say in what you wear!!"
Yuri thought for a minute. "Hmm... that would leave me without a spare duvet. No... I'll use you for something else."
"No... Hmm. It's been ages since I did some gardening. Those Soviets will be taking cuttings from all my roses again. They always do... they hate it... but they come back for more...!!" The slave handed a pill to Yuri, and patted his head soothingly. "I am not mad," Yuri hissed. "I know the things they say about me behind my back, but I am not mad, I assure you..."
He pulled open the spiked, dark French windows and stepped out into his garden. Where his prize dahlias had been, a Battle Fortress was standing, almost mocking him.
"What... is... this?"
A thing which resembled a walrus in a suit stepped out of the Battle Fortress and beamed at Yuri. "Hey there, Yuri man, how you doing?" Since Yuri had never met a walrus with a Texan accent, he assumed it was human. Or at least something to do with the Allies.
"I was fine until you crushed my dahlias... General..." Yuri squinted to see the name badge.
"Carville's the name, Yuri! And a name you can trust too!"
"Yes, well... why are you taking up my space today?"
"I've just come t' ask you if you'd be interested in a treaty, ol' pal. Y'know, we could offer you so much... money... troops... friends."
Yuri rubbed his chin sceptically.
"Oh? And what is it you wish in return?"
Carville was puzzled. "Well, this here treaty would benefit all of us. I mean, you could help the Allies too."
"You! You're after my dahlias!"
"Aw, c'mon Yuri, why would we want your dahlias? I mean, sure, they're pretty, and they're kinda nice but-"
"My prized dahlias! You crush them with a Battle Fortress so you can get their pollen on its wheels!"
"Why'd we wanna do that?"
"With their pollen you can create more dahlias, you American scum..."
"Hey, look here, I-"
"And stand a chance of beating me in the Chelsea Flower Show!"
Carville looked puzzled.
"You look puzzled..." Yuri murmured.
"Well, looks like Mr Psychic just found me out! Why shouldn't I be puzzled when you're going on at me about some flower show?"
Yuri narrowed his eyes. "I enter the Chelsea Flower Show every year... and every year I come second. You really believe... I would allow you to get your hands on my prize-winning flowers...?"
Carville now looked so puzzled, Yuri thought his chins would drop off.
"Well, I'll be dippin' molasses... You enter the Chelsea Flower Show?"
"Why shouldn't I? After all, I get so lonely here, it's just me... my flowers... and those bloody minions."
Carville laughed out loud- his many chins looked as though they were about to cause a natural disaster.
"I'm sure there's somethin' we can do to make it fair."
Yuri rubbed his chin again. "Hmm... very well. I shall go to the armoury myself... I don't let anyone else in there."
Yuri vanished in an eerie, purple light and reappeared after a minute, carrying a SuperSoaker.
"Feast your eyes on our latest technology, General," he whispered. "For it is the only time you shall see it outside the battlefield."
He sprayed a thin jet of water all over the Battle Fortress, and stepped back to admire the now gleaming artillery.
"Beautiful, isn't it. I must say, you Allies certainly put some work into your vehicles. A splash of purple paint and it would be perfect."
Carville beamed. "Well, that'd be just great, but it needs to get back for its MOT..."
"Oh, sorry. Stop by for an eclair... sometime. Remember, if you want a cup of tea... whip the slave harder. Farewell..."
Inside the Battle Fortress, Carville picked up a radio communicator. "Yeah... Lieutenant, he's headed for the Chelsea Flower Show... When? Oh... held in May, isn't it? Yeah... Good, you do that... No, wait... dispatch Special Agent Tanya."
April came and April went. One of Yuri's slaves had come running to him after someone unpicked all the stitching in his quilted suit for an April Fools' Day laugh. Yuri had managed to mind-control the band Stairs, who were more renegade 'teenyboppers', and convince them to split. When his next Grinder was ready, he knew who the first victims would be.
And now it was May, and the Chelsea Flower Show was getting nearer. Everything was perfect. The dahlias were thriving, and yet Yuri sensed something wasn't quite right. Things were never so good- something must have gone wrong, or would go wrong soon.
Or perhaps it wouldn't... Yuri realised that bad things happening had become what he considered 'normal'. Did other people have to live with that? Were they miserable, withdrawn people... lonely?
Well, at least his dahlias were doing fine. Yuri re-potted them, let them get enough sunlight, watered them. Sometimes he gave them whisky as a special treat- they seemed to like that.
"Ah... just like me..." Yuri murmured. "They will grow to be lovely flowers, with pretty petals... and they will destroy the democratic government... and give me ultimate power... and the world will bow down to me, and... Oh, thank you." A slave had just come in with a tray of tea and biscuits. Yuri sloshed some of the tea onto his dahlias before pouring himself a cup.
"Yes... the Chelsea Flower Show is as good as won." He caressed the dahlias' leaves lovingly, and wiped all the tea that now coated his hands, on his trousers.
"So... I had better set off. Slave!" he bellowed. "Prepare... the Floating Disc."
Yuri skipped down to the War Factory, clutching his dahlias, to meet the transport.
A slave stood nearby, looking rather sheepish. "Mmfle umphle slffle mff, Muh."
"What? The something... has been cut? The funding! Well, why didn't you say? We could have mind-controlled some civilian vehicles... You have? Well, why didn't you put it in the Grinder?... A ride to the flower show. Very well. A Skoda... I see... Hold on a minute."
Yuri stepped inside the War Factory and retrieved a spanner, with which he clubbed the slave unconscious.
"A civilian car... Yuri Prime riding in a Skoda. When that slave comes round, he will take this car's place in the Grinder."
Yuri drove off. He arrived at the Flower Show in no time. He used his psychic powers to make the Skoda faster than it could ever be. It even managed to reach seventy miles per hour on one stretch. It was a bit difficult getting over the English Channel when he reached France, but the power of his mind helped a lot. With a little psychic energy, he found the Channel Tunnel pretty darn easily. When he reached the Flower Show, he was completely drained.
"Next time," Yuri sighed, "I shall create a MagLev Skoda."
He strode up to some of the plants, to see what sort of competition he had.
A loud bang echoed through the air, and Yuri found the terracotta plant pot he was looking at now had a great hole blasted in it.
The sun was in his eyes, but Yuri managed to see a large shape hanging from a creeper, swing towards the displays.
"Let's rock 'n' roll!"
Everyone gasped. Not because of the loud report from Tanya's pistols, but because she was wearing a skirt, and still swinging from the creeper. She looked down, and quickly let go.
"Ah! Sorry about that. I was kinda trying to do the 'grand entrance'..."
"No need, Tanya... no need... everyone makes a different entrance, yet they all leave when I decide... via the Grinder."
"Isn't your Grinder reserved only for popstars?"
"Yes... that is correct. It is a pity. I will have to do something else then."
"Oh yeah?"
"Something else... like THIS!"
Before Tanya could scream, Yuri had hurled a plant pot at her, knocking her out on the grass.
"Now that's settled," he said contentedly, "we can go on with the flower show."
The Soviets were getting extremely bored. They were losing money fast, their latest technology didn't work and their beloved Kirovs had even been accused of being slow.
"What we need is something zat vill giff us power again!" Romanov cried. He slurped his watery coffee without noticing that the spoon was still in it. A stainless steel Hammer and Sickle poked him in the eye, making him yell with pain.
Romanov ambled over to a group of soldiers who were working on some controls in front of a large screen.
"Please divert ze power to secondary controls..."
He picked up a TV remote control and changed the channel. It was Top of the Pops, and he observed the new band, Propaganda.
"Yes... zis is just what ve need! See how ze women in ze band wear bikini tops and combat trousers! Look at ze way zey are all miming so badly! Zis is ze perfect weapon! You... get on ze phone to ze band Propaganda."
"Hehehe... look at Special Agent Tanya now. Covered in dirt... dahlias... and defeat."
Tanya struggled, but Yuri just tied the creepers tighter.
"Soon you will be mine... with no free will, like the rest..."
Tanya spat out a clod of earth. "Never, Yuri!"
"Hmm... what will you do about it?"
"For your information, I've been trained to handle psychic attacks, so there's no way you're gonna mind-control me!"
Yuri chuckled. "You won't speak like that to me... once you are under control."
Tanya shrugged. "Well, I'm tied up, covered in mud. Why don't you just mind- control me right now?"
"I have plans for you. A ransom would be worth much more than putting you in the Grinder."
The slave in the quilted suit scampered up to Yuri. "Maffle sliff, mussuh Yurmy."
"Oh, not you... How did you get here?"
"I rdd uhn the boot, mussuh Yurmy."
"In the boot? Heavens. Would you... please... leave? I'm talking... to a lady."
"A lady! I'm the best warrior in the Allied infantry and you just refer to me as 'a lady'?"
"Quiet! Slave... go away."
"Bmph maffle slff!"
"Anyway... Tanya, I know you are the Allies' best fighter."
"That's right!"
"...and to that, I say if that is the best they can do... it is not good enough."
"What?!"
"Great people like me... only wish to fight against... worthy adversaries. People like the Allies... we crush... like ants under our feet."
"Maffle slff!!"
Yuri turned to his slave. "Fine! What is it that you have wanted to say for so long?"
"Maffle slfff, mussuh Yurmy! Ah duh Syffiff Dummunaffuh!"
"The Psychic Dominator? What about it?"
"Maffle slfff..."
"We'd better go and see..."
Yuri carried Tanya to the Skoda and pushed her into the back seat. "Wait here... Tanya."
"That's 'ma'am' to you, Yuri!"
"Shuhlf uh rdd uhn the boot aguhnf, mussuh Yurmy?"
"No... you'll stay here..."
"Nuhvuh cuhm buck?"
"No, you're not coming back."
"Slff?!"
"Because I can't stand you."
Yuri leapt into the Skoda and sped off, slashing black streaks through the daffodils.
They were tearing along a country lane when Yuri switched on the radio.
"A little music, Tanya?"
Tanya wasn't really concentrating. She was trying to figure out an escape plan. If she could break the 'ropes' that she was bound with, she was one step further. After all, they were only creepers.
And if only she could find a way to stop the car...
The song on the radio filtered into her thoughts. It was Mars from the Planet Suite, one of Yuri's favourite pieces of music. Yuri was driving a little faster now, as if the music was encouraging him to speed up.
Tanya tried to think back to the flower show. What had made Yuri put me in the Skoda in the first place? Especially when he had so many other things he could have done. Like mind-controlling me, or... I dunno... just shooting me, or... throwing me in the Grinder.
The Grinder...
The song died away, and Yuri's voice startled Tanya.
"Your choice, Special Agent Tanya... What would you like... to listen to now?" he purred.
"Hmm... that's very kind of you, Yuri. I'd like to listen to the top ten."
Yuri sighed. Perhaps there would be something decent in the charts for a change. Obediently, he changed the station.
"You wanted to see us, Premier Romanov?"
A group of men and women in their early twenties entered the great room where Romanov was sitting at his desk. He rose, and grinned broadly at the band.
"Ah! Propaganda! How loffly to see you all! How is ze music making going?" Romanov sang the scale of C Major to demonstrate.
"Err... it's going fine, thank you, Sir. Our album is out next week."
Romanov beamed again. "Ah? And how is ze dancing?" He attempted one of Propaganda's dance routines and fell over, making large creases in the carpet.
"Uh... that's... fine too, Sir. So... you wanted to see us?"
Romanov stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes. "Yes, comrades. Haff you heard of Yuri?"
"Oh yeah, he's that bloke who's been attacking things and all that," the peroxide-blonde girl chirped.
"Yes, Sally, yes! He used to work for me... to help us destroy the Allies. But now... he has made his own army, and has turned his back on ze Soviets, leaffing us to die in ze snow. And he has made a Grinder... vich is reserved only for great musicians like yourselffs! It crushes you into leetle pieces and turns you into money for Yuri!"
"That's really uncool!"
"Haff you seen ze band Stairs?"
This appeared to be something they understood. Looks of joy appeared on their faces as they recalled last week's events, chattering madly.
"Oh yeah... didn't they split up or something?"
"Stairs? Did they really?"
"I reckon it's publicity..."
"Oh that's right, I read it in a magazine..."
Romanov was getting a little bored by now. "Stop!" he cried. "Yes, ze band Stairs haff split. And you know why? Because Yuri made zem!"
"But this is terrible!"
"Hey, he could mind-control us!"
Romanov smiled. He had them now.
"Yes! He could mind-control you too! And zat is why I am offering you an alliance wiz ze Soviet Union! We can protect you all!"
The man whose hair was saturated with gel appeared to have a little more sense than the others. "And what do you want in return?"
"Well... we haff discoffered why Yuri has zis Grinder for all ze poppy stars. It is because zey appear to be mental torture for him! Comm offer here and I will explain."
Romanov beckoned to the group, who followed him to a gargantuan viewscreen. He picked up his remote control and started showing them some slides.
*CLICK*
"Zis is Yuri, our main enemy in zis war."
*CLICK*
"Zis is him listening to ze radio. He listens to classical music... music for ze intelligent man. It improves his mind, and when zat is his main veapon, he needs to keep it up to scratch!"
*CLICK*
"Ah... zat is... Polaroid of Zofia in ze shower...
*CLICK*
"Howeffer, he hates ze poppy music. Damages his mind, like efferyone who listen to it. But he is more sensitiff to it, since he is a psychic. He is scared off being turned into a 'teenybopper' like ze rest off us!"
*CLICK*
"Zat's where you comm in. If he is exposed to enough of your music, he may just return to ze great Soviets!"
The radio was still on. Yuri didn't like the idea of leaving it on, but if he didn't, Tanya might suspect something. Perhaps she still had communication links with the Allies...
Tanya was still lying in the back, occasionally pretending to struggle and fail to break free. The radio was still playing. It was a dance track, with a thumping bass and an annoying, repetitive tune. It seemed to be getting to Yuri. He grimaced, and the car started to slow down a bit.
Tanya felt a bit more hopeful now. The top three were usually utter crap, so Yuri would have to stop the car.
The song at number three was nu-metal, and Yuri didn't like it at all. The car slowed down even more.
Then the second most popular song started to play. It was pop music, but not quite as nauseating as most pop songs. The car slowed further.
Tanya felt a jolt. Something was wrong- why wasn't the car still gradually slowing?
She looked at the speedometer. 30... 20... 25 miles per hour.
She turned to Yuri and gasped. A purple mist was appearing around his head, and he was shaking slightly. He was fighting the music... speeding up just to spite it, and the music would take control and slow the car down again.
25... 20... 35...
The mist was growing thicker, and now Tanya couldn't see Yuri's face any more.
35-30-50-60...
The song ended, and the DJ's voice crackled on the radio.
"And now the brand new No. 1 from Propaganda..."
Slow drums and digitised sounds introduced the song, and some piano music drifted in.
50-45-50-55...
A female voice started singing softly about someone 'driving her crazy' and not 'being around for her lately'.
55-65-60-75...
Tanya realised that the car was almost out of control. She groped through the violet haze for the steering wheel, but her fingers only touched air.
75-65-80-85...
A male voice was now singing too, about how he had a 'few things on his mind'. An acoustic guitar joined them.
85-90-80-95...
The chorus broke in, and the car shot towards a rickety-looking fence, which was all that was between them and a cliff. The mist faded slightly, and Tanya slammed on the now visible brakes, sending the car into a spin. It smashed into a wall, sending sparks flying everywhere. At least it had stopped. But now, a strange, foul smell was rising in the car... Tanya tried to open the door nearest her, but it was locked. Yuri's unconscious form blocked her way to the front doors. Thick smoke curled around her.
It seemed that the only place she could access was the boot. Hoping foolishly that someone would see her if she were in the boot, she scrambled in.
Ha. Yuri had left his dahlias in the car. Silly man. Ah well, at least the last thing she would see was a pretty one. Crimson dahlias in a hard, terracotta plant pot.
Something in Tanya's mind clicked. She hated to do this, but when it was to save your life... She grasped the plant pot and with all the strength she could muster, threw it at the glass which covered the boot.
The delicious sound of shattering glass filled her with euphoria. She scrambled out of the broken window and gazed at the burning car.
In that car is someone who has been troubling us Allies for months... and not just with his terrible dress sense. He deserves to die, she thought.
But how can any human 'deserve' to die? Should it not simply happen...
Something made her run back to the car and look in the window at Yuri. He was lying there, helpless...
"So, my comrades... will you help us to defeat Yuri?"
"Sure, okay. If he made Stairs split, we want rid of him!"
The girl with bright blue hair was looking a bit uncertain. "Well, it's a nice offer, but I really can't..."
"Come, Sym! You must!"
"Forget it. I was only in it for the money anyway." Sym stamped out of the room, her cobalt tresses bouncing on her shoulders.
The rest of Propaganda glared at Romanov.
"Vat?"
"We now only have four members."
Romanov sighed. "Vell... I will try to sort it out for you."
"You'd better, or the alliance is off."
Carville had just made a cup of tea. He flopped down into his armchair, switched on the telly and put his feet up.
The phone rang.
"Eh, just typical... Yes? Who is it? Special Agent Tanya? What? Yuri? Yeah, okay. What! You sure? Absolutely sure? God, woman, you must be mad..."
A shout down the phone made Carville hold it at arm's length.
"Yes, sorry 'bout that, I'll be right there..."
Carville walked up to his Battle Fortress and squeezed through the door.
"To the Psychic Dominator, please."
"So, d' you know what happened, General?" one of the GIs inside enquired.
"Well, man, all y' need to know is that Tanya's gonna be there." This brought grins to all their faces.
"But fer now, we've all gotta get to the Psychic Dominator. We might pick up some useful technology while we're there, y' never know. Or we might pick up Yuri's battle plans."
A GI made the inevitable contribution to the conversation, and they all laughed wickedly.
"Right, well here we are, boys. Let's get the stuff and save Tanya!"
They burst into Yuri's War Factory and soon every one of them was armed with a SuperSoaker. They leapt out, squashing the daffodils, ran into the Battle Fortress and tore away.
Soon they were at the site of the car crash, and jets of water were sprayed all over a screaming Tanya and an unconscious Yuri.
Carville lumbered out of the tank as fast as he could (not very) and went over to Tanya. "You all right, missy?"
"Y-yeah..."
"You're probably just shocked from the whole thing. Car crashes can be pretty traumatic."
"I-i... it's not just that, General. I had been kidnapped by Yuri... tried to make him stop the car... we crashed... I rescued him, and the emergency medical helicopter is on its way... was that... wrong of me?"
Carville was amazed. He'd never have expected this. "No, I'm, ahem, sure it's fine. You saved someone's life, Tanya, and I guess that's pretty good..."
A Siege Chopper landed in the field next to them. Premier Romanov shuffled out with the four remaining members of Propaganda.
"Hey... it was their music... made Yuri crash."
"Yuri! It is him at last! Ve found him, comrades."
By now, the medics had arrived, and Yuri was beginning to come round.
"Uh... what? I..." Suddenly Yuri burst into song.
"Oh yeah... I'll be there... na-na, shu-be-du-bop-du, hey..."
Propaganda were astonished. "He's... singing our song."
Yuri rubbed his eyes. "Yo everybody. What's up?"
The medics were whispering to each other about mental damage.
Yuri turned to Propaganda. "What? It's Propaganda!"
Romanov dived in front of the pop group in an attempt to protect them. "Vatch out! He is a psychopath!"
"Propaganda... I have been chasing you all for so long!"
"No!"
"Can I have your autographs, please?"
"Err... beg pardon?"
"Please?"
Tanya tapped Carville on the shoulder. "I bet I know what it is," she murmured. "Overexposure to pop music. He's turned into a teenybopper!"
That night, Tanya lay in the barracks, watching the news for any possible clues as to where the Soviets were. As usual, there was nothing. She was just about to switch it off when she saw something strange.
"And it's been a good day for Propaganda. After losing one of their members, Sym, they've managed to pick up the pieces and recruit a new singer to replace her. Here's a clip of their new video."
Tanya stared. Wearing a pair of Levi's jeans and a black jumper, was Yuri, happily singing along with the rest of the band. Ah well... at least now he was somewhere where he had respect, happiness... and friends.
A small digital screen on the wall displays the numbers 00:05...
00:04...
00:03...
Time is ticking.
00:02...
00:01...
The radio came on. It was the new No. 1 from Propaganda.
Yuri rolled out of his bed, moaning about having to get up so early. "Remind me to mind-control the band Propaganda," he whispered in a soft, hoarse tone. "I must tell them... never to make another record..."
He pulled on a dark, heavy garment and attached his Hammer & Sickle badge to the collar. "And what's more," he said, "my radio alarm insists... on counting backwards. Slave!" he cried, turning to a man wearing a strange, quilted suit and a pair of goggles over it.
Yuri placed his hands over the man's temples. "You... will fix my radio alarm," he crooned. The man shivered, and Yuri released his fingers. "Oh, and how many times do I have to tell you... don't use my spare duvet as a hat. You look like an oven-ready chicken..."
The man started to pull off the outfit.
"No, stop... none of my minions may look as sharp as me..." Yuri grinned in his mirror and the slave recoiled in disgust. "Ah- you forget. One, I can read your mind all this time. And two, I am the proud owner of a staple gun. Any more of that and you won't have a say in what you wear!!"
Yuri thought for a minute. "Hmm... that would leave me without a spare duvet. No... I'll use you for something else."
"No... Hmm. It's been ages since I did some gardening. Those Soviets will be taking cuttings from all my roses again. They always do... they hate it... but they come back for more...!!" The slave handed a pill to Yuri, and patted his head soothingly. "I am not mad," Yuri hissed. "I know the things they say about me behind my back, but I am not mad, I assure you..."
He pulled open the spiked, dark French windows and stepped out into his garden. Where his prize dahlias had been, a Battle Fortress was standing, almost mocking him.
"What... is... this?"
A thing which resembled a walrus in a suit stepped out of the Battle Fortress and beamed at Yuri. "Hey there, Yuri man, how you doing?" Since Yuri had never met a walrus with a Texan accent, he assumed it was human. Or at least something to do with the Allies.
"I was fine until you crushed my dahlias... General..." Yuri squinted to see the name badge.
"Carville's the name, Yuri! And a name you can trust too!"
"Yes, well... why are you taking up my space today?"
"I've just come t' ask you if you'd be interested in a treaty, ol' pal. Y'know, we could offer you so much... money... troops... friends."
Yuri rubbed his chin sceptically.
"Oh? And what is it you wish in return?"
Carville was puzzled. "Well, this here treaty would benefit all of us. I mean, you could help the Allies too."
"You! You're after my dahlias!"
"Aw, c'mon Yuri, why would we want your dahlias? I mean, sure, they're pretty, and they're kinda nice but-"
"My prized dahlias! You crush them with a Battle Fortress so you can get their pollen on its wheels!"
"Why'd we wanna do that?"
"With their pollen you can create more dahlias, you American scum..."
"Hey, look here, I-"
"And stand a chance of beating me in the Chelsea Flower Show!"
Carville looked puzzled.
"You look puzzled..." Yuri murmured.
"Well, looks like Mr Psychic just found me out! Why shouldn't I be puzzled when you're going on at me about some flower show?"
Yuri narrowed his eyes. "I enter the Chelsea Flower Show every year... and every year I come second. You really believe... I would allow you to get your hands on my prize-winning flowers...?"
Carville now looked so puzzled, Yuri thought his chins would drop off.
"Well, I'll be dippin' molasses... You enter the Chelsea Flower Show?"
"Why shouldn't I? After all, I get so lonely here, it's just me... my flowers... and those bloody minions."
Carville laughed out loud- his many chins looked as though they were about to cause a natural disaster.
"I'm sure there's somethin' we can do to make it fair."
Yuri rubbed his chin again. "Hmm... very well. I shall go to the armoury myself... I don't let anyone else in there."
Yuri vanished in an eerie, purple light and reappeared after a minute, carrying a SuperSoaker.
"Feast your eyes on our latest technology, General," he whispered. "For it is the only time you shall see it outside the battlefield."
He sprayed a thin jet of water all over the Battle Fortress, and stepped back to admire the now gleaming artillery.
"Beautiful, isn't it. I must say, you Allies certainly put some work into your vehicles. A splash of purple paint and it would be perfect."
Carville beamed. "Well, that'd be just great, but it needs to get back for its MOT..."
"Oh, sorry. Stop by for an eclair... sometime. Remember, if you want a cup of tea... whip the slave harder. Farewell..."
Inside the Battle Fortress, Carville picked up a radio communicator. "Yeah... Lieutenant, he's headed for the Chelsea Flower Show... When? Oh... held in May, isn't it? Yeah... Good, you do that... No, wait... dispatch Special Agent Tanya."
April came and April went. One of Yuri's slaves had come running to him after someone unpicked all the stitching in his quilted suit for an April Fools' Day laugh. Yuri had managed to mind-control the band Stairs, who were more renegade 'teenyboppers', and convince them to split. When his next Grinder was ready, he knew who the first victims would be.
And now it was May, and the Chelsea Flower Show was getting nearer. Everything was perfect. The dahlias were thriving, and yet Yuri sensed something wasn't quite right. Things were never so good- something must have gone wrong, or would go wrong soon.
Or perhaps it wouldn't... Yuri realised that bad things happening had become what he considered 'normal'. Did other people have to live with that? Were they miserable, withdrawn people... lonely?
Well, at least his dahlias were doing fine. Yuri re-potted them, let them get enough sunlight, watered them. Sometimes he gave them whisky as a special treat- they seemed to like that.
"Ah... just like me..." Yuri murmured. "They will grow to be lovely flowers, with pretty petals... and they will destroy the democratic government... and give me ultimate power... and the world will bow down to me, and... Oh, thank you." A slave had just come in with a tray of tea and biscuits. Yuri sloshed some of the tea onto his dahlias before pouring himself a cup.
"Yes... the Chelsea Flower Show is as good as won." He caressed the dahlias' leaves lovingly, and wiped all the tea that now coated his hands, on his trousers.
"So... I had better set off. Slave!" he bellowed. "Prepare... the Floating Disc."
Yuri skipped down to the War Factory, clutching his dahlias, to meet the transport.
A slave stood nearby, looking rather sheepish. "Mmfle umphle slffle mff, Muh."
"What? The something... has been cut? The funding! Well, why didn't you say? We could have mind-controlled some civilian vehicles... You have? Well, why didn't you put it in the Grinder?... A ride to the flower show. Very well. A Skoda... I see... Hold on a minute."
Yuri stepped inside the War Factory and retrieved a spanner, with which he clubbed the slave unconscious.
"A civilian car... Yuri Prime riding in a Skoda. When that slave comes round, he will take this car's place in the Grinder."
Yuri drove off. He arrived at the Flower Show in no time. He used his psychic powers to make the Skoda faster than it could ever be. It even managed to reach seventy miles per hour on one stretch. It was a bit difficult getting over the English Channel when he reached France, but the power of his mind helped a lot. With a little psychic energy, he found the Channel Tunnel pretty darn easily. When he reached the Flower Show, he was completely drained.
"Next time," Yuri sighed, "I shall create a MagLev Skoda."
He strode up to some of the plants, to see what sort of competition he had.
A loud bang echoed through the air, and Yuri found the terracotta plant pot he was looking at now had a great hole blasted in it.
The sun was in his eyes, but Yuri managed to see a large shape hanging from a creeper, swing towards the displays.
"Let's rock 'n' roll!"
Everyone gasped. Not because of the loud report from Tanya's pistols, but because she was wearing a skirt, and still swinging from the creeper. She looked down, and quickly let go.
"Ah! Sorry about that. I was kinda trying to do the 'grand entrance'..."
"No need, Tanya... no need... everyone makes a different entrance, yet they all leave when I decide... via the Grinder."
"Isn't your Grinder reserved only for popstars?"
"Yes... that is correct. It is a pity. I will have to do something else then."
"Oh yeah?"
"Something else... like THIS!"
Before Tanya could scream, Yuri had hurled a plant pot at her, knocking her out on the grass.
"Now that's settled," he said contentedly, "we can go on with the flower show."
The Soviets were getting extremely bored. They were losing money fast, their latest technology didn't work and their beloved Kirovs had even been accused of being slow.
"What we need is something zat vill giff us power again!" Romanov cried. He slurped his watery coffee without noticing that the spoon was still in it. A stainless steel Hammer and Sickle poked him in the eye, making him yell with pain.
Romanov ambled over to a group of soldiers who were working on some controls in front of a large screen.
"Please divert ze power to secondary controls..."
He picked up a TV remote control and changed the channel. It was Top of the Pops, and he observed the new band, Propaganda.
"Yes... zis is just what ve need! See how ze women in ze band wear bikini tops and combat trousers! Look at ze way zey are all miming so badly! Zis is ze perfect weapon! You... get on ze phone to ze band Propaganda."
"Hehehe... look at Special Agent Tanya now. Covered in dirt... dahlias... and defeat."
Tanya struggled, but Yuri just tied the creepers tighter.
"Soon you will be mine... with no free will, like the rest..."
Tanya spat out a clod of earth. "Never, Yuri!"
"Hmm... what will you do about it?"
"For your information, I've been trained to handle psychic attacks, so there's no way you're gonna mind-control me!"
Yuri chuckled. "You won't speak like that to me... once you are under control."
Tanya shrugged. "Well, I'm tied up, covered in mud. Why don't you just mind- control me right now?"
"I have plans for you. A ransom would be worth much more than putting you in the Grinder."
The slave in the quilted suit scampered up to Yuri. "Maffle sliff, mussuh Yurmy."
"Oh, not you... How did you get here?"
"I rdd uhn the boot, mussuh Yurmy."
"In the boot? Heavens. Would you... please... leave? I'm talking... to a lady."
"A lady! I'm the best warrior in the Allied infantry and you just refer to me as 'a lady'?"
"Quiet! Slave... go away."
"Bmph maffle slff!"
"Anyway... Tanya, I know you are the Allies' best fighter."
"That's right!"
"...and to that, I say if that is the best they can do... it is not good enough."
"What?!"
"Great people like me... only wish to fight against... worthy adversaries. People like the Allies... we crush... like ants under our feet."
"Maffle slff!!"
Yuri turned to his slave. "Fine! What is it that you have wanted to say for so long?"
"Maffle slfff, mussuh Yurmy! Ah duh Syffiff Dummunaffuh!"
"The Psychic Dominator? What about it?"
"Maffle slfff..."
"We'd better go and see..."
Yuri carried Tanya to the Skoda and pushed her into the back seat. "Wait here... Tanya."
"That's 'ma'am' to you, Yuri!"
"Shuhlf uh rdd uhn the boot aguhnf, mussuh Yurmy?"
"No... you'll stay here..."
"Nuhvuh cuhm buck?"
"No, you're not coming back."
"Slff?!"
"Because I can't stand you."
Yuri leapt into the Skoda and sped off, slashing black streaks through the daffodils.
They were tearing along a country lane when Yuri switched on the radio.
"A little music, Tanya?"
Tanya wasn't really concentrating. She was trying to figure out an escape plan. If she could break the 'ropes' that she was bound with, she was one step further. After all, they were only creepers.
And if only she could find a way to stop the car...
The song on the radio filtered into her thoughts. It was Mars from the Planet Suite, one of Yuri's favourite pieces of music. Yuri was driving a little faster now, as if the music was encouraging him to speed up.
Tanya tried to think back to the flower show. What had made Yuri put me in the Skoda in the first place? Especially when he had so many other things he could have done. Like mind-controlling me, or... I dunno... just shooting me, or... throwing me in the Grinder.
The Grinder...
The song died away, and Yuri's voice startled Tanya.
"Your choice, Special Agent Tanya... What would you like... to listen to now?" he purred.
"Hmm... that's very kind of you, Yuri. I'd like to listen to the top ten."
Yuri sighed. Perhaps there would be something decent in the charts for a change. Obediently, he changed the station.
"You wanted to see us, Premier Romanov?"
A group of men and women in their early twenties entered the great room where Romanov was sitting at his desk. He rose, and grinned broadly at the band.
"Ah! Propaganda! How loffly to see you all! How is ze music making going?" Romanov sang the scale of C Major to demonstrate.
"Err... it's going fine, thank you, Sir. Our album is out next week."
Romanov beamed again. "Ah? And how is ze dancing?" He attempted one of Propaganda's dance routines and fell over, making large creases in the carpet.
"Uh... that's... fine too, Sir. So... you wanted to see us?"
Romanov stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes. "Yes, comrades. Haff you heard of Yuri?"
"Oh yeah, he's that bloke who's been attacking things and all that," the peroxide-blonde girl chirped.
"Yes, Sally, yes! He used to work for me... to help us destroy the Allies. But now... he has made his own army, and has turned his back on ze Soviets, leaffing us to die in ze snow. And he has made a Grinder... vich is reserved only for great musicians like yourselffs! It crushes you into leetle pieces and turns you into money for Yuri!"
"That's really uncool!"
"Haff you seen ze band Stairs?"
This appeared to be something they understood. Looks of joy appeared on their faces as they recalled last week's events, chattering madly.
"Oh yeah... didn't they split up or something?"
"Stairs? Did they really?"
"I reckon it's publicity..."
"Oh that's right, I read it in a magazine..."
Romanov was getting a little bored by now. "Stop!" he cried. "Yes, ze band Stairs haff split. And you know why? Because Yuri made zem!"
"But this is terrible!"
"Hey, he could mind-control us!"
Romanov smiled. He had them now.
"Yes! He could mind-control you too! And zat is why I am offering you an alliance wiz ze Soviet Union! We can protect you all!"
The man whose hair was saturated with gel appeared to have a little more sense than the others. "And what do you want in return?"
"Well... we haff discoffered why Yuri has zis Grinder for all ze poppy stars. It is because zey appear to be mental torture for him! Comm offer here and I will explain."
Romanov beckoned to the group, who followed him to a gargantuan viewscreen. He picked up his remote control and started showing them some slides.
*CLICK*
"Zis is Yuri, our main enemy in zis war."
*CLICK*
"Zis is him listening to ze radio. He listens to classical music... music for ze intelligent man. It improves his mind, and when zat is his main veapon, he needs to keep it up to scratch!"
*CLICK*
"Ah... zat is... Polaroid of Zofia in ze shower...
*CLICK*
"Howeffer, he hates ze poppy music. Damages his mind, like efferyone who listen to it. But he is more sensitiff to it, since he is a psychic. He is scared off being turned into a 'teenybopper' like ze rest off us!"
*CLICK*
"Zat's where you comm in. If he is exposed to enough of your music, he may just return to ze great Soviets!"
The radio was still on. Yuri didn't like the idea of leaving it on, but if he didn't, Tanya might suspect something. Perhaps she still had communication links with the Allies...
Tanya was still lying in the back, occasionally pretending to struggle and fail to break free. The radio was still playing. It was a dance track, with a thumping bass and an annoying, repetitive tune. It seemed to be getting to Yuri. He grimaced, and the car started to slow down a bit.
Tanya felt a bit more hopeful now. The top three were usually utter crap, so Yuri would have to stop the car.
The song at number three was nu-metal, and Yuri didn't like it at all. The car slowed down even more.
Then the second most popular song started to play. It was pop music, but not quite as nauseating as most pop songs. The car slowed further.
Tanya felt a jolt. Something was wrong- why wasn't the car still gradually slowing?
She looked at the speedometer. 30... 20... 25 miles per hour.
She turned to Yuri and gasped. A purple mist was appearing around his head, and he was shaking slightly. He was fighting the music... speeding up just to spite it, and the music would take control and slow the car down again.
25... 20... 35...
The mist was growing thicker, and now Tanya couldn't see Yuri's face any more.
35-30-50-60...
The song ended, and the DJ's voice crackled on the radio.
"And now the brand new No. 1 from Propaganda..."
Slow drums and digitised sounds introduced the song, and some piano music drifted in.
50-45-50-55...
A female voice started singing softly about someone 'driving her crazy' and not 'being around for her lately'.
55-65-60-75...
Tanya realised that the car was almost out of control. She groped through the violet haze for the steering wheel, but her fingers only touched air.
75-65-80-85...
A male voice was now singing too, about how he had a 'few things on his mind'. An acoustic guitar joined them.
85-90-80-95...
The chorus broke in, and the car shot towards a rickety-looking fence, which was all that was between them and a cliff. The mist faded slightly, and Tanya slammed on the now visible brakes, sending the car into a spin. It smashed into a wall, sending sparks flying everywhere. At least it had stopped. But now, a strange, foul smell was rising in the car... Tanya tried to open the door nearest her, but it was locked. Yuri's unconscious form blocked her way to the front doors. Thick smoke curled around her.
It seemed that the only place she could access was the boot. Hoping foolishly that someone would see her if she were in the boot, she scrambled in.
Ha. Yuri had left his dahlias in the car. Silly man. Ah well, at least the last thing she would see was a pretty one. Crimson dahlias in a hard, terracotta plant pot.
Something in Tanya's mind clicked. She hated to do this, but when it was to save your life... She grasped the plant pot and with all the strength she could muster, threw it at the glass which covered the boot.
The delicious sound of shattering glass filled her with euphoria. She scrambled out of the broken window and gazed at the burning car.
In that car is someone who has been troubling us Allies for months... and not just with his terrible dress sense. He deserves to die, she thought.
But how can any human 'deserve' to die? Should it not simply happen...
Something made her run back to the car and look in the window at Yuri. He was lying there, helpless...
"So, my comrades... will you help us to defeat Yuri?"
"Sure, okay. If he made Stairs split, we want rid of him!"
The girl with bright blue hair was looking a bit uncertain. "Well, it's a nice offer, but I really can't..."
"Come, Sym! You must!"
"Forget it. I was only in it for the money anyway." Sym stamped out of the room, her cobalt tresses bouncing on her shoulders.
The rest of Propaganda glared at Romanov.
"Vat?"
"We now only have four members."
Romanov sighed. "Vell... I will try to sort it out for you."
"You'd better, or the alliance is off."
Carville had just made a cup of tea. He flopped down into his armchair, switched on the telly and put his feet up.
The phone rang.
"Eh, just typical... Yes? Who is it? Special Agent Tanya? What? Yuri? Yeah, okay. What! You sure? Absolutely sure? God, woman, you must be mad..."
A shout down the phone made Carville hold it at arm's length.
"Yes, sorry 'bout that, I'll be right there..."
Carville walked up to his Battle Fortress and squeezed through the door.
"To the Psychic Dominator, please."
"So, d' you know what happened, General?" one of the GIs inside enquired.
"Well, man, all y' need to know is that Tanya's gonna be there." This brought grins to all their faces.
"But fer now, we've all gotta get to the Psychic Dominator. We might pick up some useful technology while we're there, y' never know. Or we might pick up Yuri's battle plans."
A GI made the inevitable contribution to the conversation, and they all laughed wickedly.
"Right, well here we are, boys. Let's get the stuff and save Tanya!"
They burst into Yuri's War Factory and soon every one of them was armed with a SuperSoaker. They leapt out, squashing the daffodils, ran into the Battle Fortress and tore away.
Soon they were at the site of the car crash, and jets of water were sprayed all over a screaming Tanya and an unconscious Yuri.
Carville lumbered out of the tank as fast as he could (not very) and went over to Tanya. "You all right, missy?"
"Y-yeah..."
"You're probably just shocked from the whole thing. Car crashes can be pretty traumatic."
"I-i... it's not just that, General. I had been kidnapped by Yuri... tried to make him stop the car... we crashed... I rescued him, and the emergency medical helicopter is on its way... was that... wrong of me?"
Carville was amazed. He'd never have expected this. "No, I'm, ahem, sure it's fine. You saved someone's life, Tanya, and I guess that's pretty good..."
A Siege Chopper landed in the field next to them. Premier Romanov shuffled out with the four remaining members of Propaganda.
"Hey... it was their music... made Yuri crash."
"Yuri! It is him at last! Ve found him, comrades."
By now, the medics had arrived, and Yuri was beginning to come round.
"Uh... what? I..." Suddenly Yuri burst into song.
"Oh yeah... I'll be there... na-na, shu-be-du-bop-du, hey..."
Propaganda were astonished. "He's... singing our song."
Yuri rubbed his eyes. "Yo everybody. What's up?"
The medics were whispering to each other about mental damage.
Yuri turned to Propaganda. "What? It's Propaganda!"
Romanov dived in front of the pop group in an attempt to protect them. "Vatch out! He is a psychopath!"
"Propaganda... I have been chasing you all for so long!"
"No!"
"Can I have your autographs, please?"
"Err... beg pardon?"
"Please?"
Tanya tapped Carville on the shoulder. "I bet I know what it is," she murmured. "Overexposure to pop music. He's turned into a teenybopper!"
That night, Tanya lay in the barracks, watching the news for any possible clues as to where the Soviets were. As usual, there was nothing. She was just about to switch it off when she saw something strange.
"And it's been a good day for Propaganda. After losing one of their members, Sym, they've managed to pick up the pieces and recruit a new singer to replace her. Here's a clip of their new video."
Tanya stared. Wearing a pair of Levi's jeans and a black jumper, was Yuri, happily singing along with the rest of the band. Ah well... at least now he was somewhere where he had respect, happiness... and friends.