A Young Girl's Outer Heaven

13

Commissioned by Aigloss.

If I had realized just how long the funeral was going to be, I'd have just burned the body and the building down around it!

Adjusting the tie at the neck of my dress uniform, I pulled off the collared cape that went with it and sighed as I leaned back in my seat, letting the air from the window blow over me. Beside me, Pedro chuckled. "Yes, uniforms can get a bit stuffy in the heat here. You'll get used to them eventually." An amused smile pulled his mustache up and he cheekily added, "That, or die of heat stroke."

"I would almost rather," I admitted. "Visha, pass us some of those drinks, please."

Opening the cooler sitting in the front seat between Grantz acting as our driver and Visha as an extra set of eyes, my adjutant passed a couple of bottles back to us. We opened them up and I let out a groan of relief at the feeling of sweet, cold liquid wetting my parched throat. Mana body or not, uncomfortable things were uncomfortable, and I didn't like the heat any more now than I had when I was a squishy meat person.

"How long until the meeting?" I asked, and Pedro checked his pocket watch.

"Enough time to get an early dinner, or a very late lunch. Shall we?"

"Sounds good. I've never been to Brasilia. Where should we go?" I asked, and he hummed.

"I know of a nice place not too far from our destination."

Soon enough, the four of us shared a quick but good dinner and took the time to swing by our hotel and refresh ourselves, before it was back in the car and to the senate building. Visha got the door for us and I slid out of the car, sweeping the crowd and gathered press, along with rooftops and other lines of sight for potential snipers or other problems. Not seeing anything, I waved for Pedro to get out, then fell into step beside him as we made our way inside, Visha and Grantz taking the car to the parking lot, where they would wait for the next phase of the mission. Over our encrypted mage radio channel, I listened in to final checks.

"All teams, ready check and status report," Visha ordered.

"Roof Security Team in position and ready."

"Ground Security Team in position and ready."

"Strike Team holding position, awaiting go/no-go."

"Airfield is secure and the Colonel's ride is fueled up and waiting. Pilot's on standby."

My attention was pulled back to my immediate surroundings as Pedro greeted another older man—another former four-star general going by his rank insignia and dress uniform. He was a bit bigger than Pedro, a big rounder about the middle as well, but from the way his suit flexed, he was still muscular—just going to seed, as was the way with retirement or working a desk job. "Marcos! Good to see you again!"

"You as well, Pedro," the other man laughed, shaking Pedro's hand. Looking down at me, he raised an eyebrow. "And who's this? Another granddaughter?"

Pedro shook his head and laid a land on my shoulder. "No, though at times I wonder if God didn't send her to me," he chuckled, and I fought off the urge to make a face. "This is Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, leader and owner of the private military company Militar Sin Fronteras. Tanya, this is my good friend and former coworker, General Marcos Oliveira."

"It's nice to meet you, general," I extended my hand with a smile and he shook reflexively.

"You as well, miss…" He looked between myself and Pedro, a frown forming on his face, even as I frowned at the lack of my proper rank. "This isn't some sort of elaborate joke, is it?"

"It is not," Pedro chuckled.

Releasing the general's hand, I said, "Allow me to prove my bona fides. Look down."

The general looked down and, with a thought and a bit of mana, I lifted myself two feet off the ground and stayed there for three seconds, before lowering myself back down. The man blinked, his mouth falling open. "Oh. But you're just a—"

"I graduated training camp as an aerial mage at the age of nine, whereupon I was promoted to Warrant Officer and assigned as a spotter for an artillery squad on what became the front line of the Great War as my first mission. I was there for the very first incursion by Legadonian troops into Imperial territory and was the first Imperial aerial mage to engage them in combat. I served through the entirety of the war, over the course of six years. I earned the Silver Wings Assault Badge and then the same with Oak Leaves," I tapped the medal in question, hanging on my breast, "among others, but I prefer quality over quantity. I'd rather rely on my magic to provide proof against bullets, not my medals."

Of course, the real medal I had been issued was still back in Germany, nailed to the door of a pub alongside those others we had left behind. This was, unfortunately, just a replica. I'd found it already pinned to my dress uniform when I went to put it on for the event. My money was on either Visha or Weiss. I'd have to ask later. For now, it made for a nice, showy piece that I could point to for the purpose of showing that yes, I was a decorated officer with my own commendations and not just a child stuffed into a uniform.

The general laughed and Pedro grinned. "Yes, some excuses for officers seem to find any excuse to make themselves look like clowns. It's one of the easiest ways to tell who has actually served on the front lines and who got their position because of who they knew, not the things they've done. Please, forgive me for being rude, colonel." Looking to Pedro, he asked, "This is what you've got planned? You plan to run and propose we start training our own mages?"

"That's right, old friend," Pedro nodded. "They are incredibly useful. Frightfully so. The colonel's unit has firsthand experience fighting the Russy Federation. They know how the communists think. After this cowardly assassination of our beloved leader," he laid it on thick and Marco's lips twitched in amusement, "I wouldn't rather have anyone else helping us excise the communist cancer before it spreads too far."

Marco hummed, considering for a moment, before he chuckled. "I was thinking of stepping up myself, but it seems you've put yourself in a better position to do so. Alright, you have my support. Whatever I can do to help, I will."

"Spread the good word among our friends. Those whose hearts still beat for our nation, not the empty promises of a foreign master. With any luck, by next year I'll be voted into office long term and we can make sure this problem never sets foot on our shores again."

"Alright. I'll come find you, after."

The general went on his way and Pedro and I made our way further inside, where he introduced me to several more people. Most of them were like Marco—high ranking older men and experienced soldiers who had all been let go by Vargas and his administration, over the course of the last year or two. Ever since the commies first showed up and made contact with the president. The lowest rank among that crowd was a colonel like myself. They were all, to a one, incensed over the president's decisions and policies to date and looking to find a way to course correct the country from the path President Vargas had set for it, against the advice and wishes of his people.

It was as we were heading to our seats that Visha slid into view. She gave a bright smile as she walked up to us. "I found something interesting to show you."

"Lead the way, Lieutenant," I smiled back, getting a handle on my nerves. Even with all my experience to date, this close to the op I still felt like I'd had entirely too much coffee and was buzzing with nervous energy.

With a nod, Visha gracefully weaved through the crowd, Pedro and I followed her close behind until we found ourselves in front of a fine impressionist painting of a Brasan woman working in a cornfield. "Yes, it is a very interesting piece," I said, before continuing quietly, "Sitrep, Lieutenant?"

"Across the room…" The woman whispered back as she reached up to 'fix' her soft blonde hair, subtly pointing with her elbow. "Just past my left elbow. Male, tall but slight build, round glasses and the—"

"The sniveling little man crammed into a Russy officer's uniform?" I sneered, "Balding and his mustache has the tint of orange of a chain smoker?"

Visha nodded. "He has spoken to two senators so far, this is his third."

"Why is that here?" Pedro murmured, and my smile became that much wider. "Have they no shame?"

"No, that don't," I shook my head. "Commies are utterly without shame, in fact. It's their nature. To claim moral superiority is to believe they have nothing to be ashamed of. So of course they would send an agent."

"If I may, I would like to borrow the colonel for a moment, Pedro?" Visha asked.

"By all means." He nodded to me, "I will just find a cool corner to loiter in. Come find me whenever you're finished, Colonel."

"What's this about, Lieutenant? Everything proceeds as planned," I said to her, before subtly glancing at the Russy officer across the room, "Or does our enemy give you pause?"

"Never, colonel!" Visha visibly kept herself from saluting. "Against the Francois, the Commonwealth monarchists, these Russy communists, or the entire world. The 203rd won't flinch as long as we're under your command."

"Good," I nodded. "The enemies we face with the Russy are the type who will never rest. If it's not that… then are you still mad about me going off plan the other night?"

"We would never doubt your judgment," she shook her head, sending blonde locks swaying. "I just want to voice the 203rd's collective sentiment… "

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Colonel…" Her blue eyes locked with mine. "We're right behind you every step of the way. You were the one who trained us, after all. I promise you that we're strong enough to keep up with you. You don't have to feel like you have to leave me- us- behind."

I puzzled over Visha's words for a moment… then realized what she meant.

Ah, I see. The battle-hungry tendencies of the 203rd strike again.

Even halfway around the world and a host of defeated countries later, they were still not satiated. The Lieutenant first and foremost. And to think she was that green recruit who once threw up at the sight of battlefield gore.

"I know you're strong enough, Visha," I smiled up at her and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll definitely keep you close wherever I go."

Her face exploded in a blush, "I- That's- Thank you, ma'am!"

"If that's all, we're in the middle of an op, so back to your post, Lieutenant. I have a little commie whose politicking I have to thwart."

"Yes! Give him hell, Colonel."

I found Pedro nearby, looking over another painting—a view from the top of mountains, looking over a valley and a river winding away through the trees. "We're ready."

"Ah, good. Let us go find our seats," he nodded, and together, we made our way down one of the aisles.

As we moved, I focused on the Russy weasel. The rat-faced man currently trying to worm his way into another politician's ear—and from the politician's expression, succeeding. Apparently, the little bastard said something the spineless political worm liked, as he lit up like a Christmas tree. I sneered, then quickly wiped the expression off of my face.

Look how willing they are to throw themselves to their knees and slobber all over communist cock for a few empty words. Disgusting! It's a good thing we're going to be doing some housecleaning! Perhaps I can find an excuse to remove the little weasel while we're at it? I would settle for killing him in a brilliant flash of spellfire, but what I'd really love to do is get my hands on him and wring him of any information he might have on what his masters' plans are for Brasa. I doubt he knows much, most mooks don't, but even the names of his superiors would be good!

But I could take him right here and now, if I wanted. I might even be able to do it even with the crowd. I slowed my movements and Pedro unconsciously matched my pace as I angled us just slightly further out of the commie's peripheral vision. I was unarmed but that meant nothing to an aerial mage, and especially to me since the accident. A whisper of a thought and I would have a mage blade coating my fingers. I could slide right by him, reach out and pat him on the back, and puncture his heart from within—a needle-thin blade of mana, just a pinprick through his uniform and flesh, and then expand it the moment it reached his heart. No one would know. It would look like a heart attack…

Something must have given away our approach. Turning towards us, the Russy agent looked over the governor, before his eyes slid to me and a confused expression crossed his face. He studied me intently and I felt his mana reaching out, like greasy fingers questing for my flesh. I swatted it away as a feeling of disgust welled up in my stomach. The agent's entire body froze for just a moment as our eyes locked. I smiled just a bit brighter. I could practically smell his fear from here—and it stank.

It seems he recognizes me! Not just as an aerial mage, but he seems to know who I actually am. How interesting~! What have the commies been teaching their people lately, I wonder?

And then, the man—and I used the term loosely because communists weren't human—approached.

"Children belong to the state more than they do to their parents. It is only right," First Lieutenant Ivan Rabinovich said solemnly, but the senator remained worryingly unconvinced.

"Claiming ownership of children…" the senator murmured, "I am not sure how my constituents will feel about that, Mr. Rabinovich."

"The average working class man or woman should be able to give back to the People without fearing for their children's futures!" Ivan tried a different tactic—appealing to the human need to be seen as moral. "So as you can see, the Russy Federation is the model of progressive policies—common sense enforced! The State should always have a hand in raising the children—teaching them what is right and what is wrong regardless of their own parents' deficiencies in education. And should their parents be… rebellious elements, their children will be taught to report them to the right authorities so that even their parents can be re-educated of the wonders of Socialism."

"I am still not sure if such is feasible, Brasa is not a rich country…"

Ivan nodded with a knowing smile, "Rest assured, once friends of the Russy Federation wins this election, there will be outpouring of funds for all the nurseries, schools, and daycares that Brasa's youth can ever need."

At the mention of Russy funding, the senator's attention was suddenly piqued, like one of Comrade Pavlov's dogs hearing a bell. Ivan knew that he had caught his attention, but he also knew that the Senator was looking for one more concession if he was to be... useful.

The senator replied, "And would I have a place in the Russy Federation's vision of Brasa?"

"Every comrade has a place, Mr. Senator." Ivan reassured, "The People of Brasa will need strong leaders who will guide them forward in our Great Socialist Experiment after all. I can put in a good word for you."

"Me?" the senator chuckled, "That is very reassuring to hear."

"I can imagine!" Ivan laughed along.

Ivan looked away from the new 'friend' he had made among the Brasa senate as something tickled his mana senses. He wasn't the best soldier in the Russy Federation—in fact, he would readily agree that his sense of self-preservation overriding his duty to his country, his ideals, and silly ideas like 'community' and 'family' had allowed him to survive this long. What he was, however, was sensitive to mana in a way most Federation aerial mages, especially the newer recruits, weren't.

That he noticed it at all was probably less a testament to his own skill and more to his, admittedly, cowardly nature. He doubted anyone else would notice the way the mana currents around them had suddenly shifted. They likely also wouldn't have noticed the void in the local mana walking around inside the building, like some sort of… black hole, except for mana. It wasn't a mana signature, but the complete lack of one. Any mana that came into contact with it disappeared, and all of the local mana was being pulled inexorably towards it.

He looked up, seeing an older man walking down the aisle beside a young woman. He did a double-take as he realized the girl was the source of the anomaly. Then, her appearance registered.

It started in the hind brain. That overdeveloped lizard brain that had kept him alive so long, seen him turning in family and friends over the slightest of perceived doubts to save his own sorry hide, recoiled in terror—freezing his body to the spot as it shot him so full of adrenaline he thought his heart would explode. It didn't see a young woman in a military uniform. No, it saw a Siberian tiger wearing human skin, stalking down the aisle straight towards him. That smile on her face was a baring of fangs as her expression clearly said that she was deliberating whether to toy with him or to pounce and snap his neck between her jaws.

Memory fired off, then. She was a bit taller now, a few years older, but the differences were minor. There was no mistaking who she was, as his mind turned back to a propaganda video shot by the damned Imperials, of the time they sent an aerial mage squadron to the capital and flew the Imperial flag over Moskva. The video that had been 'leaked' back to the Federation and was used as a training aid to shame future aerial mage recruits, to goad them to further hate the Imperials over the utter embarrassment that day had been for Comrade Joseph and their defense forces.

That face, the face of the little girl who had helped hoist that filthy flag and so shame them, was burned into the minds of every Federation mage. They had strict orders regarding that particular enemy. Either subdue her and bring her in, where she could face proper justice at Comrade Joseph's direction, or kill her and try to bring her body back.

Then came the facts that every mage had been briefed with. They didn't have her name, but they knew her epithet. The Devil of the Rhine. She was a war criminal of the highest order, who had committed atrocities on every front of the war. Her personal kill count was staggering, even at the lower conservative numbers the politburo published, as opposed to those numbers inflated by their… nominal allies to make her seem more frightening.

If she is here, then the Imperials have already established a beachhead. They are thinking twenty years ahead, at a minimum. They will wait for the trials at the end of the war to die down. For the normalization process after the war to truly settle in. For people to adapt to their new lives under communist influence and the decadence that will come for some and hardships for others. Then, they will return. Gather dissidents and try to turn the proletariat to their own purposes. Shit! I have to get a message back to the Federation and let them know! They need to send a unit down here to stamp out the Germans before they can set down roots!

But who is that with her? he wondered, shifting his attention briefly to the other man. After a few moments, he remembered the briefing he had been given before he left and everything clicked. Governor Vazquez. The meeting between this 'Weiss' of some capitalist mercenary company working in the governor's employ and Presidente Vargas, before the man's untimely demise at the hands of Captain Sokolov.

Weiss was a German name, of course. And here was the most notorious Imperial war criminal, standing beside the governor. It all made too much sense.

This was why Capt. Sokolov killed that traitor Vargas! She learned that he was planning to side with this, this monster! No, this Devil! She must have learned that the Devil was working with Lt. Col. Weiss—his superior, given her rank insignia. Then… then Bellum has already fallen under their sway. We will have to see it purged. Burned to the ground with everyone inside, just to make sure the capitalist taint doesn't escape. But perhaps… perhaps I can speak with him. Convince him to make himself useful to the cause. He'll still have to be killed, of course, but if he is pliable enough to be a useful idiot for our cause, perhaps we can turn him against the Devil.

Ivan smiled as he turned to greet the governor. For some reason, a brief look of revulsion crossed the Devil's face before it was swiftly hidden behind that terrifying expression she mistakenly called a smile. He didn't understand why—it was his best smile. "Ah, good evening! Good evening! Governor… Vazquez, isn't it?" Ivan asked, extending his hand to shake—but less than halfway. It was an old psychological manipulation trick to begin the process of breaking down walls. To literally make the enemy reach out to you and subconsciously put them in the position of always reaching out further than you—literally and metaphorically. "I am Second Lieutenant Ivan Rabinovich of the Russy Federation."

"Hello, lieutenant," Vazquez hesitated only a moment before shaking his hand. "If you'll—"

Ivan spoke right over him before the governor could excuse himself. "Please, no need to stand on rank. Call me Ivan! I'm here today to apologize on behalf of the Federation and assure you all that what happened with your president was a terrible mistake, an atrocity carried out by a madwoman working on her own. I am so sorry about what happened."

The governor frowned at that, but politeness kept him from calling out the lie for what it was. That didn't seem to apply to the woman beside him, as she scoffed quietly. Ivan gestured towards her and asked, "And who is your lovely young lady friend here?"

The blonde's lip twitched, the beginnings of a curl of disgust. "Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, Militar Sin Fronteras."

Ivan committed the name to memory. Home office would be thrilled to finally be able to put a name to a face, if they hadn't been able to squeeze her name out of the Imperials already, or get it from their records.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ms. Degurechaff," he smiled, offering his hand for another shake as he tweaked her nose just a bit. After all, unless she wanted to expose herself for the rabid animal she was, there was little she could do in retaliation. She may be a tiger wearing human skin, but at the moment, she was collared, leashed, and caged by the company she kept and their current surroundings—the expectations of society, and that one not step too far outside of them. He was as safe as if they were separated by the bars of a zoo. Or a Siberian gulag.

Silver-blue eyes bored into his brown and that reptilian part of Ivan's brain worried that perhaps the bars were not as strong as he hoped—or that they were not there at all and he really was at her mercy here. " Colonel. Von. Degurechaff," she stressed. "I earned both of those, lieutenant."

"Oh? Is that what that silly word in your name is? Some kind of rank?" he smiled, wagging his hand a bit to emphasize its presence.

The blonde tucked both hands behind her back, beneath her cape. "It's a nobiliary particle, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Nobility? In the modern world?" Ivan scoffed. "We of the Federation have done away with such outmoded concepts."

"In the Empire, we believed that everyone, regardless of birth, had the right to better themselves through their own meritorious actions. Be it intelligence, bravery, or just plain hard work, anyone who chose to serve our country could increase their station in life. And that is the essence of nobility. Of being noble. Dedicating yourself to doing more for your country, your fellow man, and yourself than the common man."

Ivan scoffed. "At the expense of everyone around them. No, thanks to the beauty of the communist system, everyone is now equal—" he began his spiel, only to be cut off.

"Unless they're born a mage. Then, you're sent to the gulag."

Ivan flinched. "There is no such thing! We do not imprison our mages in any supposed gulags!"

"Is that so? Then what's that?" she nodded to his wrist and Ivan flinched, jerking down the long sleeve to hide the numerical tattoo on his right wrist. Chuckling, she continued, "Of course the mages were imprisoned, after the communists took over. After all, mages disprove the communist ideal of everyone being born equal and only unfair exploitation, classism, sexism, racism—a plethora of little -isms and -phobias to describe every little difference between people. Exploitation of and discrimination based upon those differences on the part of the bourgeois is the only thing truly dividing the proletariat, according to the ruling class. But it's kind of hard to call yourselves equal when one of you can fly and the other cannot, isn't it?"

Ivan began to sweat as he realized that no, worse than any rabid animal, the woman before him was completely rational. A reasoning, thinking, intelligent and cunning creature. Even worse, she understood. She grasped concepts only the most cynical, or those highest within the communist regime, truly understood. Things that the useful idiots, the pretty faces they educated in the ways of communism and sent out to spread the good word did not.

The inherent double-think and double-speak in the system. That when a communist spoke of equality, he meant that everyone within the proletariat, the working class, would be equal. Equally poor. While the leaders, the politburo, the intelligentsia, those most useful to the cause, would be equal to each other in power and wealth. Or that yes, mages disproved the idea of equality from birth.

Perhaps worst of all, however… Much like her namesake, for this Devil words were weapons. It was a simple truth that the regime and everyone more intelligent than a loaf of bread understood. They wielded truth and lies, fact and fiction, false promises and empty platitudes in equal measure to bend those they sought to bring into the fold of communism to heel. Ivan was not a believer—never had been. He had too much survival instinct for that. But by that same token, he parroted the words of the state, he did everything they demanded, for to do otherwise was death.

This Devil seemed to somehow sense it, and she was drawing an audience, as others had turned to listen and conversations around them were hushed. If he allowed her to continue, she would undo all of his hard work and make further attempts to approach the spineless coward politicians here pointless!

"Well then, it was nice meeting you both. I wish you both a good evening—" Ivan tried to disengage, only for her gaze to fix him in place as her next words struck like a hammer blow and left him reeling.

"Don't go~!" the colonel beamed—the tiger bringing its paw down in front of him, cutting off his escape. "Why don't you tell everyone about the bread lines, comrade?"

"I, I have no idea what you're talking about," he denied, while inside, he screamed, How does she know?!

"Bread lines?" Governor Vazquez spoke up, loudly, drawing even more attention. "What do you mean, colonel?"

"Why, it's just as it sounds!" the Devil chuckled. "They are lines in which you wait to receive your allotted bread for the day. If you don't get there early enough, they run out. This is how the communists 'fairly' distribute food and resources within their cities. Instead of going down to the store to buy bread, you stand in the bread line with your voucher and wait to be given bread, if you're lucky."

"She's lying!"

"Why would I need to lie, comrade?" Shaking her head, the Devil added, "You would be surprised how willing to talk the average Russy soldier is, if you offer him a few basic, trivial things. Bread. Soup. Meat. Some cigarettes. Coffee. Let him feel like a real human being again and he'll tell you whatever you want to know. Unfortunately, most of them don't know much, so there isn't much point to interrogating them. They don't tell the grunts anything. Even the mages didn't know much. What they did know, we learned, however. Such as the bread lines. Or the lists. Tell them about the lists, comrade Rabinovich."

At that, Ivan frowned in confusion. Before, confronted with the truth he needed to deny, to hide, for the sake of the state (and his life), he had wanted to flee. Now, however, curiosity had him stuck to the spot, wondering what she was talking about. "What lists?"

"You don't know about the lists?" she asked, coyly. There was a verbal trap there, Ivan knew. But, fool he was, he sprung it anyway.

"I've never heard of any lists."

The Devil nodded, putting on a sympathetic smile. Ivan's lizard brain saw right through it. She was practically licking her chops, salivating as she moved in not for the kill, but for a little nibble. Just a taste, before the main course. "Ah, well. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, then. You see, if you aren't aware of the lists, then the fact is, you're likely on one. You see, that is what the lists are for. Lists of potential problems that the communist regime needs to make not problems before any takeover. During the first stage of any staged 'revolution,' those will be the people dragged out into the street and shot first. That includes useful idiots, people who know too much, and idealists who, after experiencing life under the boot of communism, will find that their taste for 'equality' dries up and the difference between what they were promised and the reality they've found themselves in will make them the most bitter of enemies."

That smile came back, all teeth, and Ivan shivered. "Although, given that you're a mage, you were on one from the beginning. Tell me, do you know what they have planned for you after the war?"

Ivan's confusion mounted, even as he thought back to the whispers he had heard. The conversations with non-mage acquaintances in other branches. Hesitantly, he answered, "As I understand it, the aerial mages were to be sent home and decommissioned. Freed and sent on their way."

The Devil sighed, nodding as a knowing look crossed her face. "It's a euphemism, cloaked in the typical commie double-speak. By 'decommissioned,' they mean executed. By 'free' they mean dead."

For a moment, Ivan's heart stopped. "No," he whispered, but… but his lizard brain, that part of him that was so keen on ensuring his survival, quickly put everything together and to his horror, Ivan couldn't find fault with her words. "But why? Have we not proved our use?"

"As I said. They can't allow a group who disproves their ideals just by existing to continue to exist. I imagine it will be a very quiet genocide, taking place all at once right after the war. Mass graves and a bunch of mages listed as casualties. Then, as the years go on, they'll test every baby born for magical potential. Any that have it will experience some horrible childhood condition like Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. They'll blame it on the West, on capitalism, on anyone but themselves, when they themselves are the ones killing babies."

Behind Ivan somewhere, doors opened and the noise level increased as people began to pour in. The governor nodded his way and began moving. "If you'll excuse us, it's about to begin. We need to find our seats."

Ivan nodded absently, moving to his own seat, where he collapsed bonelessly. His heart felt weak, his pulse thready. His body trembled, literally shaking where he sat as he came down off the adrenaline from facing such a terrifying beast in direct confrontation. If this was what verbally sparring with her was like, then he couldn't begin to comprehend just how terrifying fighting her in the air as a mage would be. One thing was certain, however…

She knows too much! Far too much! There is no way she collected all of that from interrogating a few captured prisoners! I don't know how she knows, but it's like she's seen directly to the heart of the Kremlin.

It was said that familiarity breeds contempt. This Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff seemed all too familiar with them, given the level of contempt she displayed. And he was sure she was holding back! That wasn't an attack. No, as attacked as he felt personally and as a representative of the Federation, that was no attack. It was a bit of verbal sparring. A very big cat toying with the rat it had caught.

She'll have warned the governor. He will be completely immune to any approach by our agents.

Slowly, Ivan calmed down as the meeting was called to order, then devolved almost immediately into chaos as everyone tried to speak at once. Suddenly, a sound very much like a foghorn blared over the room, making Ivan and others wince and bringing silence to the room. The governor stood up and his shadow, the colonel, with him. They made their way to the front and Ivan very faintly felt the colonel work a formula, before the governor began speaking. He had no microphone, but the formula ensured he didn't need one, as his voice carried clearly across the seats.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the senate. I see many faces in this crowd tonight that I recognize. Old friends and rivals alike. For those of you who do not know me, allow me to introduce myself. I am General Pedro Vazquez, formerly of the Brasa Army, and current governor of the state of Para." He held out a hand and Col. von Degurechaff produced a folder, which the governor held aloft. A moment later, a projection of the documents within sprang into being above him—large enough that even those in the back could clearly read them.

"The day of Presidente Vargas's assassination, I sent a trusted envoy to deliver these documents and a warning against dealing with the Russy Federation—how they cannot be trusted. It is no coincidence that he was killed in cold blood by the cowardly Russy agent, Capt. Sokolov, not even an hour later. After all, these documents outline a plan for strengthening our military and ensuring that communism can never set its filthy boots upon our shores again. And for that, for daring to consider it, he was killed! You know what that tells me, my friends? It tells me that they are scared! They are utterly terrified of the idea of a Brasa with access to the same caliber of troops as the Americans, the Francois, the Commonwealth, and the Empire! The idea of aerial mages under our control terrifies them—and it should!"

There was a murmuring within the crowd and once again, Ivan felt himself growing anxious. A crowd getting whipped into a frenzy could very quickly become an angry mob—after all, that was one of the preferred tactics of communist subversives and infiltrators. But with him here, a clear target in his Federation uniform? They would tear him limb from limb!

"My plan is simple. With the help of my friend, Colonel von Degurechaff, and her mercenary company Militar Sin Fronteras, we will open an academy for aerial mages! We will begin recruiting, training, and equipping candidates immediately. Then, those students will be used to recruit and train more future mages, until we have a force to rival that of any of those involved in the Great War. And with this force, we will ensure that the Russy Federation, the communists who assassinated our beloved el presidente, never darken our shores again!

"That is why I am putting in my name to replace Presidente Vargas. No one is better prepared and has a better idea of what needs to be done than myself. Colonel von Degurechaff and her people have fought the Federation before. In their own cities, in the harsh Siberian winter, and in the Empire. They have seen firsthand what is waiting for us if the communists gain a foothold in our beloved Brasa! The murder, rape, and pillaging of Imperial villages in the Federation's quest to demoralize and destroy the Empire is just the beginning of what cowardly, two-faced, lying shitheels like our guest comrade Ivan Rabinovich here will do with a smile on their faces!"

Ivan's heart stopped as nearly every eye in attendance turned to him. Glares fixed him to his seat and heated, hate-filled murmurs filled the crowd. The only reason he didn't leave, why he didn't stand up and run away, is because he couldn't. His legs wouldn't move.

"Choose me to take up the torch for Presidente Vargas and I promise, I will begin removing this threat to us all immediately. Elect me to office and I will guarantee our future and prosperity for generations to come, free of Federation communist tyranny!" Vazquez yelled, and to Ivan's horror, much of the crowd erupted into applause.

Ivan watched as the governor—no, the presumptive next president at this point—made his way back to his seat. In his shadow, the colonel turned and sent him another smile as she passed. Ivan felt his blood run cold as he knew, then and there, that she meant to kill him. He didn't know when, but it was coming—

The doors in the front and back of the room were kicked open and gunfire filled the room, followed by screams and utter pandemonium. Before he could fully register what was happening, a man in a Federation uniform and wearing a black balaclava and gloves grabbed Ivan by the arm and jerked him up from his seat, hosing down the people in the row beside him with his machine gun.
"Quickly, comrade! We're leaving!"

What? What in the world is going on?!

As he watched, concentrated gunfire focused in on the colonel and the governor behind her, only to splash off of the blonde woman's shield as she began barking orders and ushering them towards an exit. Ivan reacted before his conscious mind could really process what was happening. Reaching out, he grabbed the sidearm off the belt of the man moving him to safety, turned, charged an explosive formula, and fired it into the shield. Smoke filled the room as he continued firing, until the weapon clicked dry.

Suddenly, he felt it. Her mana. From within the thick cloud of smoke and dust, two golden pinpricks burned as mana swelled around them. Growing and growing. It grew harder to breathe and Ivan felt faint, his breaths coming shallowly as the smoke cleared and she stood there, not a speck of dust on her uniform. She lifted a hand in his direction, fingers curling into a pistol shape.

"Get down, you idiot!" his escort tackled him to the ground.

"Bang."

The formula she fired in answer was a laser that left explosions in its wake. The seats were ripped up and caught fire around them as Ivan and his savior both poured mana into a shield above them as the world became little more than light and sound. Ivan had just enough time to look up and see that the entire rear wall behind him had been annihilated, before he was being grabbed and flown out of the hole, as the colonel charged and prepared to fire again.

A few moments later, they touched down and Ivan found himself thrown into the back seat of a car, as his savior jumped in beside him. "Go, go, go! She might be coming!"

The car peeled out with a squeal of tires and Ivan felt the world swim around him for just a moment, before everything went black as his mind finally gave out.