Background: Siberian Inferno is a Fire/Ice Magic Blaster I recently created on Virtue, just to try out the set... as you can see below, her story started forming in my head within minutes of exiting Outbreak. Comments are welcome.
=== === ===
"Please have a seat, Major. This is just an informal interview, not an inquest or anything serious like that."
"Da, I understand. I must admit, General, it is wery strange, the thought of our nations being allies now, although I also find it to be a good thing, I think."
"Well, I'm gratified to hear that, Major. Now, I understand that the FBSA's given you a new codename?"
"Da. 'Siberian Inferno,' though I do not understand why this is. True, the base where I was... trained was located in Siberia, but I am from Leningrad -- excuse me. St. Petersburg."
"I think the boys and girls in the FBSA registration offices get a little bored sometimes and have a twisted sense of humor, personally. Now, I want you to understand the reason for this interview, Major... I know that you have been disavowed by the Soviets, what's left of them. I know that you have renounced your citizenship and agreed to work for the United States government, effectively defecting, if the Cold War were still going. What I don't know is why, and unfortunately, despite your assurances and the result of your hyperpolygraph, my superiors really want to know why you would do this rather than going to work for your homeland."
"Vell... for one, Putin is a murdering pig who takes his orders from the Organitzskaya. I will not vork for such a man. The rest is... difficult to speak of, but I vill try to explain..."
My name is Natanya Alekseevna Shilova. Physiologically, I am twenty-seven years old. I was born and raised in Leningrad. My father was a military man, and my mother worked in the textile mills, although she would also make a few rubles on the side telling the people's fortunes, at least when the KGB were not around. Papa was of the Ashkenazim, and Mama was descended from Gypsy stock, which made family reunions very interesting and tended to make us a "family of interest," even in these enlightened times, although our rabbi was always certain to show Mama's family the greatest courtesy and welcome.
As a child, while Papa was stationed at faraway posts, I would help Mama with her side customers in the evenings. Sometimes, although I did not know why, I could predict how their tarot readings would turn out. Sometimes, my reading would be more accurate than Mama's, something which both elated and disturbed her greatly. As I grew older, I began to sense things about people, places, objects I would touch. Mama always told me to keep this to myself; she said that they would not understand, although I was never very clear on who they were. She never told Papa of it. He worked in Intelligence. He could never tell me what his work involved, only that he was "working to protect the People and the Revolution." Whenever he would come home from assignment, he would tell me all about the People and the Revolution. Even though I could see that conditions in Russia were not what the Party would have us think, I came to believe in the principle of the People, and working toward the greater good. I suppose you could call me a patriot, at that time, but really I was becoming an idealist - I believed in the dream, not the Party.
Soon after my sixteenth birthday, we moved to Moscow, as Papa had gotten a promotion. One night, I heard he and Mama arguing - it did not happen often, but when it did it was enough to be heard on the moon. Soon after the argument, they came into my room, and with tears in her eyes, Mama told me to show Papa what I could do... by this time, I could move objects, and if I concentrated, make myself less noticeable.
Papa was beside himself. He asked Mama to bring me some tea, sat me down, and told me of his work. "Project Rasputin is what we call it, Anya. It is people like you that we are looking for. We wish to train them to help defend the People against their enemies, using these powers, these gifts of theirs. We moved to Moscow because I was good at finding them... but you are better. You hid right under my nose for so long. You could do great things, my little girl, but let me tell you this: If you agree to go with me to the Academy, you cannot ever tell anyone where you are going. You cannot tell them of what you do, and you cannot tell them that you even exist. The enemies of the People would take advantage of this and use it to hurt you, and those you care about. Can you do that? Can you be silent?"
A little numb and overwhelmed, I nodded, and told him I would go.
The next day, I was put on a plane for Siberia. I was not allowed to bring my things; instead, I was provided a uniform with cadet insignia, and a special pin on the lapel - a red eye inside a golden pyramid, inside a red star. I was told that if I graduated the training program with high enough marks, I would be made an officer. It was my dream coming true: I would be serving the People in a way that only I and a few others could.
There were thirteen of us - six in the arcane program, such as myself, and seven in the psi-corps division. From what we were taught, those without enough potential to be full mages were often gifted with psychic abilities. Our schooling was intense, covering everything from old Kabbalic texts to more modern "New Age" magic, and once our areas of specialization were discovered, we were given individual instruction in those fields. My speciality was elemental magic: fire and ice. Nikolai was adept at mental manipulation. Sergei was good with air magic, able to hurl lightning bolts and turn the very elements against his targets. His brother Andrei excelled at working with the earth, and Susan could use ley lines to alter the forces of gravity.
When we graduated, I was at the top of my class, so they made me a Captain, in charge of the team. The psychic members were all given noncommissioned ranks, but we mages were the officers of the group. Not long after graduation, we received our first mission: Suppress Chechnyan rebels attempting to hijack critical supplies in Uzbekistan. When I received our orders, I was at first under the impression that we were merely to capture or rout them... I soon found I was wrong, and that the motives of the Party leaders once again intruded on my dream of defending the People as they should be defended.
The battle was intense, but short. When we appeared out of nowhere, brought to the site by Andrei's ability to teleport us all at once, the rebels were dismayed, although they fought bravely. We took minor casualties, particularly among the psychic corps members, although little Evangelina, the sixth member of the Sorceror Corps fell that day - being able to create forcefields and hurl energy bolts is all well and good... but improvised landmines do not care about such things... nor do some superior officers.
"Control, this is Inferno. Rebel forces have been suppressed. We have prisoners, and casualties. Eva - Shield, I mean, did not make it. She was killed by an improvised explosive device."
"We understand, Inferno. Terminate your prisoners and return to base immediately for review."
"Excuse me, Control?"
"Your orders are to terminate survivors as an example to the counter-revolutionaries that they should not interfere with the People's Revolution, then return to base for debriefing. These orders are non-discretionary. You will comply."
"Nyet, Control, they have surrendered peacefully! Some of these rebels are just boys! Under Geneva Convention rules--"
"Inferno, This is Rasputin Commander. As members of a fully covert special operations team, you and your subordinates are not bound and should not operate by the dictates of the Geneva Convention that the imperialists have imposed upon our military forces. While I commend your desire to show the world that the People are moral and just and willing to be merciful to their enemies, these boys, these Chechnyan dogs have slaughtered women and children, and do not deserve the People's mercy. Your orders are to terminate them, preferably in an imaginative fashion, then return to base. Do this, and I will... overlook your outburst, and your father will not need to come under special review for bringing you into this project. Do you understand?"
"...Da, General. I understand. We will comply and be home within two hours. Inferno out."
...Some nights, I can still hear the screams as they died. Nikolai in particular was very avid when it came to following the General's desire for us to be imaginative. After that, a hardness settled itself about us like a cloak. We did what we were ordered to do, for we were no longer children with fascinating toys, but were soldiers.
Time passed. I was promoted to Major. New members to the team came and went. I began to alter my appearance to hide my shame at the things I was made to do - and I still do, even though I know that I had no choice at the time. They had my family, through my father. I began to despair inside, and wonder just where the People had gone wrong, whether it be in the leaders they chose, or the heroes they idolized. At one point, we were revealed to the people, around the same time as the Americans began to embrace their superheroes again. There were endless parades and social functions. Due to the image I presented as Inferno, I had to ward off many advances from overeager suitors, young and idealistic as well as old and corrupt. The former were difficult to turn down because of their good hearts... the latter were difficult to turn away due to their power, which they did not yet realize was failing. Glasnost was all the rage, Gorbachev was talking with Reagan, people were talking about a new era for the Soviet people.
Then in December of 1991, it all came crashing down with the Berlin Wall. We were in the dormitories between missions when my father burst in, telling us to drop what we were doing and come with him, quickly. You see, as recruitment director, he had ears in many of the correct places, and what he heard he could not tolerate any longer.
"They're going to kill you, Anya. All of you."
"What?! You must've heard wrong, Papa!"
"No, I only wish it were so, my little girl. While the publicity has been good of late, the outgoing Party members fear that if some of the missions you were on come to light, it would cause them problems in their new comfortable lives. So, they are burying the project and you with it. I have a plan to save you, but we must hurry."
We were lead into an old disused bunker, having narrowly dodged our would-be executioners. There, behind a false wall, we found several capsules disguised as the sort of crates that badly contained nuclear material would be stored in. "They are cryogenic freezers, Anya," said my father, "I plan to come back for you once this has all blown over. If I cannot, remember that I have always been proud of you, no matter what."
As the lids closed over us and the false wall closed after my father, the last thing I heard was the sound of gunfire from the bunker proper.
The next thing I knew, it was hot, and dry, and very dim. I was in a cave, and men in robes were standing over my capsule, their eyes alight with the same kind of fervor I had seen on many a fanatic over the years. I could not understand what they were saying, but they sounded angry - and given how they were touching me, and the knives they were holding, their intent seemed clear. Nearby, several of my teammates were enduring the same.
Frightened and angry at their imposition upon my person, I uttered three words, hurling the men near my capsule through the air and catching them ablaze. I arose from my capsule like the Angel of Death herself, cutting down the men who had taken possession of us. As their resistance crumbled, many of them fled. I captured one for interrogation... I did not speak their language, but I did not need to. Nikolai could translate for anyone.
"He says they bought us from a Russian general, Anya.... I cannot tell who. We are apparently in Afghanistan."
"What year is it?"
"He says it is... bozhe moi, Anya, he says it is 2009. We were in there for almost twenty years!"
"Is everyone here? Where's Sergei, and Andrei, and Susan?"
"Sergei and Andrei are still waking up. You and I are here shaking this man until the truth falls out. Susan..." He frowned, and uttered something harsh at the man in his native language. The blubbering Afghani replied, and I saw that old, hard light come into Nikolai's eye. "Susan, he says, was treated as she deserved under their law."
It was then that I heard the sound of crying coming from a nearby cavern. I ran to the entrance, looked inside, and saw my longtime friend. She had been treated as no better than an animal, and when the boys came near her, she cried all the more, lashing out with her powers blindly.
I calmed her down, and placed her somewhere safe. I convinced her that the boys were not going to hurt her, and asked Nikolai to teleport them all some miles away. And then... then I went to work.
Somewhere in Afghanistan, there is a cave network where the walls are made of green glass, like your old-style Coke bottles. If you look under the glass carefully, you can see the frightened shadows of men, burned into the walls like bad memories.
Afterward, we went our separate ways. Nikolai went to work for the UN as a translator. Sergei and Andrei decided to leave it all behind and have joined a farming commune somewhere - returning to their roots, I suppose, as the brothers Khorozev originally came from a farming community near Stalingrad. I brought Susotchka with me here to the United States - she is currently in care at one of your hospitals to help her get past what happened in the desert. When she is released, we will live together as we wanted to but could not under Soviet rule.
"...There is a point to my tale, General. You wanted to know why I chose to come here. That answer should be obvious enough: I have no home to go to. But why do I continue to wear the symbol of my old nation? Why do I wear the red star and the hammer and sickle? That answer is not so obvious.
"I wear them because they remind me of the ideal I wished to live up to. Despite the fall of the Soviet Union, and despite the corruption of its leaders, I still believe in the greater good. I still believe that one day, the People will come together as one. It may not be as Marx and Lenin envisioned, but hopefully we can make it work.
"The Revolution failed because its leaders forgot that they serve the People, not the other way around. I wear the symbols of the Revolution to remind me to not make the same mistake."
---
"I fail to understand why everything in this script must explode." --Teal'c
Background: Siberian Inferno is a Fire/Ice Magic Blaster I recently created on Virtue, just to try out the set... as you can see below, her story started forming in my head within minutes of exiting Outbreak. Comments are welcome.
=== === ===
"Please have a seat, Major. This is just an informal interview, not an inquest or anything serious like that."
"Da, I understand. I must admit, General, it is wery strange, the thought of our nations being allies now, although I also find it to be a good thing, I think."
"Well, I'm gratified to hear that, Major. Now, I understand that the FBSA's given you a new codename?"
"Da. 'Siberian Inferno,' though I do not understand why this is. True, the base where I was... trained was located in Siberia, but I am from Leningrad -- excuse me. St. Petersburg."
"I think the boys and girls in the FBSA registration offices get a little bored sometimes and have a twisted sense of humor, personally. Now, I want you to understand the reason for this interview, Major... I know that you have been disavowed by the Soviets, what's left of them. I know that you have renounced your citizenship and agreed to work for the United States government, effectively defecting, if the Cold War were still going. What I don't know is why, and unfortunately, despite your assurances and the result of your hyperpolygraph, my superiors really want to know why you would do this rather than going to work for your homeland."
"Vell... for one, Putin is a murdering pig who takes his orders from the Organitzskaya. I will not vork for such a man. The rest is... difficult to speak of, but I vill try to explain..."
My name is Natanya Alekseevna Shilova. Physiologically, I am twenty-seven years old. I was born and raised in Leningrad. My father was a military man, and my mother worked in the textile mills, although she would also make a few rubles on the side telling the people's fortunes, at least when the KGB were not around. Papa was of the Ashkenazim, and Mama was descended from Gypsy stock, which made family reunions very interesting and tended to make us a "family of interest," even in these enlightened times, although our rabbi was always certain to show Mama's family the greatest courtesy and welcome.
As a child, while Papa was stationed at faraway posts, I would help Mama with her side customers in the evenings. Sometimes, although I did not know why, I could predict how their tarot readings would turn out. Sometimes, my reading would be more accurate than Mama's, something which both elated and disturbed her greatly. As I grew older, I began to sense things about people, places, objects I would touch. Mama always told me to keep this to myself; she said that they would not understand, although I was never very clear on who they were. She never told Papa of it. He worked in Intelligence. He could never tell me what his work involved, only that he was "working to protect the People and the Revolution." Whenever he would come home from assignment, he would tell me all about the People and the Revolution. Even though I could see that conditions in Russia were not what the Party would have us think, I came to believe in the principle of the People, and working toward the greater good. I suppose you could call me a patriot, at that time, but really I was becoming an idealist - I believed in the dream, not the Party.
Soon after my sixteenth birthday, we moved to Moscow, as Papa had gotten a promotion. One night, I heard he and Mama arguing - it did not happen often, but when it did it was enough to be heard on the moon. Soon after the argument, they came into my room, and with tears in her eyes, Mama told me to show Papa what I could do... by this time, I could move objects, and if I concentrated, make myself less noticeable.
Papa was beside himself. He asked Mama to bring me some tea, sat me down, and told me of his work. "Project Rasputin is what we call it, Anya. It is people like you that we are looking for. We wish to train them to help defend the People against their enemies, using these powers, these gifts of theirs. We moved to Moscow because I was good at finding them... but you are better. You hid right under my nose for so long. You could do great things, my little girl, but let me tell you this: If you agree to go with me to the Academy, you cannot ever tell anyone where you are going. You cannot tell them of what you do, and you cannot tell them that you even exist. The enemies of the People would take advantage of this and use it to hurt you, and those you care about. Can you do that? Can you be silent?"
A little numb and overwhelmed, I nodded, and told him I would go.
The next day, I was put on a plane for Siberia. I was not allowed to bring my things; instead, I was provided a uniform with cadet insignia, and a special pin on the lapel - a red eye inside a golden pyramid, inside a red star. I was told that if I graduated the training program with high enough marks, I would be made an officer. It was my dream coming true: I would be serving the People in a way that only I and a few others could.
There were thirteen of us - six in the arcane program, such as myself, and seven in the psi-corps division. From what we were taught, those without enough potential to be full mages were often gifted with psychic abilities. Our schooling was intense, covering everything from old Kabbalic texts to more modern "New Age" magic, and once our areas of specialization were discovered, we were given individual instruction in those fields. My speciality was elemental magic: fire and ice. Nikolai was adept at mental manipulation. Sergei was good with air magic, able to hurl lightning bolts and turn the very elements against his targets. His brother Andrei excelled at working with the earth, and Susan could use ley lines to alter the forces of gravity.
When we graduated, I was at the top of my class, so they made me a Captain, in charge of the team. The psychic members were all given noncommissioned ranks, but we mages were the officers of the group. Not long after graduation, we received our first mission: Suppress Chechnyan rebels attempting to hijack critical supplies in Uzbekistan. When I received our orders, I was at first under the impression that we were merely to capture or rout them... I soon found I was wrong, and that the motives of the Party leaders once again intruded on my dream of defending the People as they should be defended.
The battle was intense, but short. When we appeared out of nowhere, brought to the site by Andrei's ability to teleport us all at once, the rebels were dismayed, although they fought bravely. We took minor casualties, particularly among the psychic corps members, although little Evangelina, the sixth member of the Sorceror Corps fell that day - being able to create forcefields and hurl energy bolts is all well and good... but improvised landmines do not care about such things... nor do some superior officers.
"Control, this is Inferno. Rebel forces have been suppressed. We have prisoners, and casualties. Eva - Shield, I mean, did not make it. She was killed by an improvised explosive device."
"We understand, Inferno. Terminate your prisoners and return to base immediately for review."
"Excuse me, Control?"
"Your orders are to terminate survivors as an example to the counter-revolutionaries that they should not interfere with the People's Revolution, then return to base for debriefing. These orders are non-discretionary. You will comply."
"Nyet, Control, they have surrendered peacefully! Some of these rebels are just boys! Under Geneva Convention rules--"
"Inferno, This is Rasputin Commander. As members of a fully covert special operations team, you and your subordinates are not bound and should not operate by the dictates of the Geneva Convention that the imperialists have imposed upon our military forces. While I commend your desire to show the world that the People are moral and just and willing to be merciful to their enemies, these boys, these Chechnyan dogs have slaughtered women and children, and do not deserve the People's mercy. Your orders are to terminate them, preferably in an imaginative fashion, then return to base. Do this, and I will... overlook your outburst, and your father will not need to come under special review for bringing you into this project. Do you understand?"
"...Da, General. I understand. We will comply and be home within two hours. Inferno out."
...Some nights, I can still hear the screams as they died. Nikolai in particular was very avid when it came to following the General's desire for us to be imaginative. After that, a hardness settled itself about us like a cloak. We did what we were ordered to do, for we were no longer children with fascinating toys, but were soldiers.
Time passed. I was promoted to Major. New members to the team came and went. I began to alter my appearance to hide my shame at the things I was made to do - and I still do, even though I know that I had no choice at the time. They had my family, through my father. I began to despair inside, and wonder just where the People had gone wrong, whether it be in the leaders they chose, or the heroes they idolized. At one point, we were revealed to the people, around the same time as the Americans began to embrace their superheroes again. There were endless parades and social functions. Due to the image I presented as Inferno, I had to ward off many advances from overeager suitors, young and idealistic as well as old and corrupt. The former were difficult to turn down because of their good hearts... the latter were difficult to turn away due to their power, which they did not yet realize was failing. Glasnost was all the rage, Gorbachev was talking with Reagan, people were talking about a new era for the Soviet people.
Then in December of 1991, it all came crashing down with the Berlin Wall. We were in the dormitories between missions when my father burst in, telling us to drop what we were doing and come with him, quickly. You see, as recruitment director, he had ears in many of the correct places, and what he heard he could not tolerate any longer.
"They're going to kill you, Anya. All of you."
"What?! You must've heard wrong, Papa!"
"No, I only wish it were so, my little girl. While the publicity has been good of late, the outgoing Party members fear that if some of the missions you were on come to light, it would cause them problems in their new comfortable lives. So, they are burying the project and you with it. I have a plan to save you, but we must hurry."
We were lead into an old disused bunker, having narrowly dodged our would-be executioners. There, behind a false wall, we found several capsules disguised as the sort of crates that badly contained nuclear material would be stored in. "They are cryogenic freezers, Anya," said my father, "I plan to come back for you once this has all blown over. If I cannot, remember that I have always been proud of you, no matter what."
As the lids closed over us and the false wall closed after my father, the last thing I heard was the sound of gunfire from the bunker proper.
The next thing I knew, it was hot, and dry, and very dim. I was in a cave, and men in robes were standing over my capsule, their eyes alight with the same kind of fervor I had seen on many a fanatic over the years. I could not understand what they were saying, but they sounded angry - and given how they were touching me, and the knives they were holding, their intent seemed clear. Nearby, several of my teammates were enduring the same.
Frightened and angry at their imposition upon my person, I uttered three words, hurling the men near my capsule through the air and catching them ablaze. I arose from my capsule like the Angel of Death herself, cutting down the men who had taken possession of us. As their resistance crumbled, many of them fled. I captured one for interrogation... I did not speak their language, but I did not need to. Nikolai could translate for anyone.
"He says they bought us from a Russian general, Anya.... I cannot tell who. We are apparently in Afghanistan."
"What year is it?"
"He says it is... bozhe moi, Anya, he says it is 2009. We were in there for almost twenty years!"
"Is everyone here? Where's Sergei, and Andrei, and Susan?"
"Sergei and Andrei are still waking up. You and I are here shaking this man until the truth falls out. Susan..." He frowned, and uttered something harsh at the man in his native language. The blubbering Afghani replied, and I saw that old, hard light come into Nikolai's eye. "Susan, he says, was treated as she deserved under their law."
It was then that I heard the sound of crying coming from a nearby cavern. I ran to the entrance, looked inside, and saw my longtime friend. She had been treated as no better than an animal, and when the boys came near her, she cried all the more, lashing out with her powers blindly.
I calmed her down, and placed her somewhere safe. I convinced her that the boys were not going to hurt her, and asked Nikolai to teleport them all some miles away. And then... then I went to work.
Somewhere in Afghanistan, there is a cave network where the walls are made of green glass, like your old-style Coke bottles. If you look under the glass carefully, you can see the frightened shadows of men, burned into the walls like bad memories.
Afterward, we went our separate ways. Nikolai went to work for the UN as a translator. Sergei and Andrei decided to leave it all behind and have joined a farming commune somewhere - returning to their roots, I suppose, as the brothers Khorozev originally came from a farming community near Stalingrad. I brought Susotchka with me here to the United States - she is currently in care at one of your hospitals to help her get past what happened in the desert. When she is released, we will live together as we wanted to but could not under Soviet rule.
"...There is a point to my tale, General. You wanted to know why I chose to come here. That answer should be obvious enough: I have no home to go to. But why do I continue to wear the symbol of my old nation? Why do I wear the red star and the hammer and sickle? That answer is not so obvious.
"I wear them because they remind me of the ideal I wished to live up to. Despite the fall of the Soviet Union, and despite the corruption of its leaders, I still believe in the greater good. I still believe that one day, the People will come together as one. It may not be as Marx and Lenin envisioned, but hopefully we can make it work.
"The Revolution failed because its leaders forgot that they serve the People, not the other way around. I wear the symbols of the Revolution to remind me to not make the same mistake."
---
"I fail to understand why everything in this script must explode." --Teal'c