Junior Remy Haring continues with his second installment of his serial fiction inspired by The New Order–a mod for Hearts of Iron IV. If you recall, Remy visits an alternate dark history here, where, in WWII, the Axis powers have won.
Zeya, Amur, the Russian Far East, January 23, 1962
Rodzaevsky was sitting at his mahogany desk in his office. Behind him two flags flanked him — horizontal, yellow, black and white tricolor with a double-eagle grasping a bundle of sticks on each. To his left was an ashtray; to his right was a pile of photos of dissidents. Some had a red X drawn over their faces; others didn’t. Their occupations ranged drastically from those of lowly citizens to bureaucrats to the most trusted officials of his own cabinet. One photo in particular stood out to him.
It was an old black and white group photo from the beginning days of the Russian Fascist Party (RFP). Rodzaevsky was in the center with Grigory Semyonov on his left and Mikhail Matkovsky on his right. In each of their hands was a raised shot glass of vodka. None of them had a red cross marked over their faces. The photo was marked, “Harbin, Manchuria, September 13, 1932.” As Rodzaevsky was looking down at this photo, he heard a knock at his door.
“Enter,” Rodzaevsky ordered.
A Blackshirt entered the room. His uniform was pristine, all black snow gear with the only splash of color being his medal of the double-eagle grasping a bundle of sticks.
“The dissident Vlodimir Kozlov has been eliminated,” reported the Blackshirt. “He was hiding out in a forested neighborhood a few kilometers away from Zeya. He was… difficult but has been pacified. Given the remote area and that I was under the cover of night, I doubt anyone saw.”
Without another word, Rodzaevsky dismissed him with a wave of his hand. After the door shut, Rodzaevsky took a red marker from his drawer and crossed out the face of the most recent victim. Kozlov had been a middle–aged woodsman and a father of two. It was his youngest child who had reported him for the crime of freemasonry.
Rodzaevsky leaned back into his chair and turned on the radio:
*Purge