A Change in Leadership

                                  A Change in Leadership

"You're out of your fucking mind, Dikiy," spat Governor Alexandrov. "You might have the Siberian divisions on your side, but the rest of your armies know where their loyalties lie. As soon as they get word of what you've done-"

Alexandrov grunted and dropped to one knee as Dikiy slugged him in the gut. It didn't hurt much, but it did throw him off-balance. "I must disagree," came that snide, slightly nasal voice, entirely unsuited to a man of authority. "You know Melkikh has gone rogue? Evtukovich, too. That's what they tell me. Me, and not you, Governor, because they know where authority should reside."

Dikiy's arrogant, treasonous spiel was followed up with a booted kick in Alexandrov's groin. The governor toppled sideways and doubled over. The chain on his cuffs was pulled taut, making them bite into the skin of his wrists. "Go... go..." he gasped out.

"What was that, Governor?" came Dikiy's voice from somewhere above him. "You'll have to speak up." Another kick. The another, square in the old man's eye. He would have screamed if he had any breath. "If you've any objections, now is the time for them."

Alexandrov made a guttural, half-groan half-growl in the depths of his throat. He was too winded for words, and in too much pain to even choose his words. "Pathetic," said Dikiy, forcing an arch tone into his voice. "Weak. Feeble. A poor choice, but unsurprising, considering. that Jew bastard Larionov put you here." The governor's good eye turned upwards and glared with pure hate and contempt at the bespectled rodent above. Dikiy had drawn a pistol. The foremost ideologue of Nazism in the empire, supposedly embodying the virtues of the Russian Aryan, and he was about to shoot a crippled old man who was lying on the floor with his hands cuffed. Unfortunate, that Dikiy had reached his paymasters first.

Every death is a stepping stone.