NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC> Only Communist nations are active participants, but other nations can participate if they want to by RPing as members of their nation's Communist party.

TASHKENT, Uzbek SSR:

In the largest city of Central Asia, in the east-west median of the Soviet Union, delegates from the Communist nations of the world and foreign Communist parties would meet to discuss issues of general concern. Popularly called the Comintern for short, the Communist International was one of the largest international forums in the world, where representatives from nations with populations totalling nearly two billion met yearly.

This conference promised to be much like the others, with very un-socialist banquets and parties held amongst the serious political discussion. Starting off on a relatively modest basis, the meetings of the Communist International had become among other things, a glitzy media event, with the essential caveat that the medias in question were all state-controlled. Sanitized highlights footage would be granted to Western media on request, but no Western reporter was permitted to directly be present at the Communist International.

Security arrangements were extremely tight, with about forty thousand Soviet and about a thousand bodyguards of the other delegates making Tashkent into a garrison town for the next week. Soviet Mig-45 Raptor airplanes, some of the most advanced in the world, circled the skies above, making sure that all air travel in or out of Tashkent was even more tightly regulated than was normally the case.

This would be the last meeting of the Communist International to be held in the Soviet Union until the 100th anniversary conference in 2020, scheduled for St. Petersburg, the cradle of the world's first People's Revolution. Billions of dollars were being spent on preparing the way for that grand conference. It promised to be history's biggest celebration of socialist achievement, a century of proletarian unity and strength.

Grozny looked forward to that conference, but he felt that it would be criminal to hold it without a major triumph to celebrate. It had been a long time since a new nation had joined the ranks of international socialism. And he also felt that the fire of revolution had died down in many of his comrades. His compromises in the economy aside, Grozny believed that capitalism was destined to die a violent death. He wished to be the design of that long overdue fatality.

He hoped that he could influence his fellow Communist leaders to follow a similar course. It would be difficult, but revolution was struggle. And struggle meant bloodshed. If he was not an athiest, he would be better able to appreciate the link to the persecutions of the Christians, which helped them to build the world's greatest religion. If the Christians could do that on the basis of a false god, surely the Soviet Union and its allies could spread the gospel of Marxism-Leninism to the world?

Gregor Markov reclined in one of the comfortable stuffed chairs that furnished the cabin of his private jet. He was a gentleman of fifty-seven years, the last twenty of which he had spent heping to make the UEBR what it was today. He wore thin rimmed spectacles that he frequently adjusted to keep them from slipping down his rather prominent nose. his eyes were a steely grey color with the ability to convey warmth, or sharp command.

Markov was a prominent member of the secret council that stood behind the leader of the UEBR, the one known to his people as "Our Father." He was one of the few council members that was ever seen in public, being the man usually responsible for handling international public relations. Attendence of the Comintern conference was a duty that had always falle in his lap. He would, as always, do his best to put a clean face on the image of the UEBR, despite what the leaked rumors might have conveyed to the masses.

Markov raised a glass of scotch to his lips, but a sudden burst of turbulence caused the glass to shake, and the liquid to spill all over the carpet that ran the length of the cabin. Markov called out in some exasperation.

"Damn! get someone in here to clean this up! And you, get me another drink!"

As the aids scrambled to fulfill Markov's orders, the jet began to descend. They had arrived in Tashkent.

Markov descended the stairs from the aircraft to the tarmac below, his long black coat flowing behind him. His black hat sat firmly atop his head, and a large cigar hung from the corner of his mouth. He was flanked on either side by UEBR soldiers serving as his personal bodyguards.

A limousine pulled up in front of the aircraft, and Markov and his men climbed in. Markov sat back in the seat and let out a grumble.

"Well boys, let's get this over with."

Vladimir Grozny stepped out of a conference room with his top advisors, and took a liesurely stroll over to the main conference room, flanked by bodyguards and personal secretaries. He noticed a comely young comrade and flashed her a wolfish grin, hoping he would meet her again when he had more time. However, much work would need to be done today.

He seemed a bit uncomfortable in his formal marshal's uniform, preferring his familiar somewhat worn colonel's uniform. Of course, the only uniform in which he had ever truly felt comfortable was red and emblazoned with the number '37'. Grozny sorely missed his days as captain of the world renowned Red Army hockey team in the 90's, winning gold medals in 1992 and 1996 for the Soviet Union as well as four world championships.

Hockey players didn't need to be diplomatic. Determination, initiative and aggression were characteristics that could be openly displayed. However, he found his experience in the rink had some bearing to politics. Hockey was an extremely swift sport which required a very fine-tuned combination of finesse and brutality. He had heard an American describe it as a mixture of 'ballet and murder'. Grozny would say that applied for politics as well.

He was looking forward to meeting with the leader of the UEBR, his most reliable Communist ally, and of course, the ever-pliant leaders of the Communist Diaspora. However, his dealings with China were different. The Soviet Union could no longer play the role of patriarchical leader as it had in the old days. The Chinese expected to be treated as equals, and were increasingly desiring to take over the leadership of the Communist International.

But internal political struggles could and must be put on the backburner. Vladimir Grozny was a man with a vision. And that vision was of a world united under socialism. He could taste it, feel it ... see it out of the corner of his eye. The brutal cycle of exploitation and petty appeasement could and must end!

Troubelt Kerensy paced the ailes of the private jet.

"Sir, I'll remind you we will be hitting turbulence. Please at least sit down."

"Fine!"

Kerensy took a seat and began to think of the affaris at home one more. The empire was trying to buy about 6 countries in Africa so as to solidify their upper claim to africa.

"No matter."

Kerensy opened a small cigar case and pulled out a havanna and an intricately designed lighter. He suck the havanna in his mouth and waited till he was off the plane to smoke it. It always seemed to him that when he smoked in this plane whenever he came back it seemed...well, dirty.

"We're coming in for a landing now."

"This is Alph 9er Delta, requesting permission to land."

OOC> Trying to buy 6 countries in France? You applied to be France in this sim, which means your country is France and its territories. Hence you do not need to buy anything ... unless I'm misunderstanding what you said. The Borman Empire of NS does not exist here.

After an exhaustive, but rapid scanning process, the Soviet air controller granted the French delegation permission to land.

'Permission granted .... you are to land on the third runway to the left. An honor guard of Soviet troops will escort you to your lodgings. The conference will formally begin tomorrow with luncheon. We thank you for your embrace of socialism.'

Meanwhile In Grozny's Study:

Vladimir Grozny had before him a computer generated image of the world. Using a laser pen he began to draw the lines of the future socialist republics, the Indian SSR, the German SSR, the Italian SSR, African SSRs ... then he stopped as he crossed into the Western Hemisphere. He knew that that was the domain of the Federation of American States in the north, and to the south, of the detestable United Christian Republic.

After considering it a bit, he drew a few seperate SSRs in the FAS and then crossed out the UCR. He detested the poisonous opiate of religion, especially when it barely masked fascism. He would have to stamp it out, but not quite yet ... they were powerful, too powerful to destroy until the Communists had successfully consolidated their position.

The Borman Empire of NS does not exist here.

I know

OOC> Trying to buy 6 countries in France? You applied to be France in this sim, which means your country is France and its territories. Hence you do not need to buy anything ... unless I'm misunderstanding what you said.

Sorry, I meant Africa.

IC:
As the plane came to a hatl the door opened and Kerensy stepepd out. HE instantly lit his cigar and began to walk down the steps. To his sides were several French soldiers.

As they began to come away from the plane a detachment of Soviet troops came and brought them too their lodgings.

"Thank you!"

Kerensy stepped inside his room and immediatly walked over to the T.V.

"Lets see what to order. Hmmmm. Robots, Robots, Robots. Night life. In the bed. Two girls and a robot. The wonders of lesbians. Bill nye. Wait...how'd he get in there. Oh well...Ill order The wonders of Lesbians."

OOC: I doubt man would change over 13 years, or even 100.
Shalrirorchia

OOC> lol, no, probably not. Comrade Grozny is a notorious womanizer. Odds are he'll have at least one comely comrade keeping him warm.

Vladimir Grozny took a good long hard look in the mirror at himself. Before he gave the orders for some truly horrible deed, he always did this. If he could look at himself in the mirror and smile without forcing himself to do it, he would go through with it. If not, he would call it off. Tonight, the white teeth showed themselves without too much trouble.

He picked up the phone to what was supposedly his personal staff. Even if someone managed to tap it, it would seem like a harmless order for a snack. In reality, it was something altogether more sinister. Although he would, of course, recieve the snack as well. He was hungry, and he always ate before dealing with eager young comrades.

'For my bedtime snack, I'd like beef on a bun, please. A Kaiser bun.'

"Now for two robots...wait, WHAT!? Who wants to see robots? Lets go with this one."

Kerensy will msot likely be entertained for the night.

As the limo cruised through the streets towards the hotel, Markov removed a bottle of Vodka from a cooler. He poured himself a glass and began tor aise it to his lips when the car hit a bump in the road, and the glass spilled for the second time that day. Markov cursed in Russian and wiped his face and clothing with a white handkerchief.

As he did so, and advisor sitting adjacent to him removed a small black notebook.

"Mr. Markov sir, i suggest we go over some of the issues you will be discussing with Comrade Grozny during your meeting tomorrow. As I am sure you are aware, the UEBR is the major player at these discussions, aside from Mother Russia of course."

Markov grumbled impatiently as he folded the handkerchief and replaced it in his pocket.

"Bah! What's to go over? The whole goddamn conference is just me kissing the ass of whatever new Premier they've chosen! I've been through five of them in the last twenty years!"

"Three sir."

"Right, three. Bloody ruskies. Always talking about the glory of their beutiful system, and pulling out their charts and tables. I despise tables! I don't bloody care how much they're beating the capitalists! I just want to get back to my hotel and find a nice Russian hooker, and I can't even do that anymore! With the media, and the cameras, and the reporters!"

The limousine pulled up in front of the hotel. Markov, still ranting, stepped out and proceeded towards the entrance. His tirade was still in full force as he thrust his baggage into the valet's arms, and only began to end as he entered the hotel room with his entourage.

"-And another thing! His wife is a whore! A complete prostitute!"

"Sir, we're here."

"And if I had to- Oh look, were here. Well what are you idiots waiting for! Out! I have important state business to take care of! Go!"

The men scurried out of the room. Markov took off his coat and threw it over a chair. He walked over to the desk where a bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice beside two glasses. He popped the cork and poured himself a glass. Unfortunately, the cork had been projected at a rather high velocity and so had knocked a small statuette from the top of the bureau beside which Markov sttod, and as a result, as Markov raised the glass to his lips, the statue landed square on his wrist, causing him great pain and forcing the contents all over his face and clothing.

The scream of rage was audible three floors below, as was the sound of breaking glass as Markov hurled the glass against the door. Still fuming, Markov walked over to the television, and flipped it on.

"Ooh, lesbians."

OOC> lol, those horny Commies. Just a few things about Vladimir Grozny ... he'd maybe be considered an upstart by a lot of the other leaders. He was, after all, a hockey player for much of his career. A damn good one, one of the best in the world, but a hockey player nonetheless. He's also a lot younger than the average Politburo leader, being only in his mid-late forties, and looking younger because he's in excellent physical shape. He's also something of a man of action and an zealot, so he's maybe a bit more of a loose cannon than many of these people.

IC:

Grozny finished his snack and walked into his room. Unlike the others, he had little inclination or need for artificial pornography. He had never had trouble with finding women who were attracted to the young (for a political leader, anyway), handsome and energetic Soviet premier. Of course, it did not hurt that before he went into politics, he had been the darling of the Communist world, one of the Red Army team's all-time greatest players.

He would have his fun tonight and then begin work tomorrow. He approached politics with the same boundless energy as he approached hockey and lovemaking. His grey eyes lit on fire as he noticed a young comrade, a would-be actress waiting for him. She smiled shyly, greeting him effusively. Grozny grinned, the grin of a born conquerer. It would not be long before he would be doing something not unsimilar to the eternal thorn in Mother Russia's side.

Germany.

Markov was showering, getting ready to go out to dine with some of the local bureaucrats and whatnot. Normally he would not have agreed, but he had been told that the daughter of one of the bureaucrats, a singer, was particularly pleasing to the eye. If he was lucky, he would not go to bed unhappy tonight.

Through the noise of the shower he heard his advisor call to him.

"Mr. Markov, sir, you have a phone call."

Markov yelled back.

"Can't a man shower in peace?!"

"It's your wife, sir."

"Damnit! Can't the hag survive on her own for a few days?"

Markov got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around himself, and went to pick up the phone, whereupon he was hopelessly nagged for a half hour.

Kerensy picked up the phone and dialed the number of the operator.

"Yes. I understand that Grozny got a bed-time snack. I am not going to bed quite yet but a snack sounds great. Ill take what he had."

Kerensy put down the phone half expecting to recieve one thing, and half another.

Karensy recieved BBQ beef on a kaiser bun approximately ten minutes after placing his phone call. It was quite good for BBQ beef on a kaiser bun.

Meanwhile ... early that morning:

Vladimir Grozny awoke, flashing a wolflike grin in the mirror before going to get dressed. It was time to impress his fellow Communists with his brilliant leadership, or so he thought. In fact, he may have just made a grave miscalculation. But he would not admit that to himself until he had concrete proof.

Kerensy rolled around in bed and shot up.

"Wo, I just had the worst dream. Someone made me watch two robots and enjoy it. Then I had to have sex with one."

A female robot sat up next to him and rubbed his chest, "It wasn't a dream."

Kerensy shot up screaming.

"Good lord, one of those double dream things."

"I told you it wasn't a dream."

Kerensy then begna to stranglre the female robot.

"I dont use air."

"Oh this will kill you."

Finally the phone rang and woke Kerensy from his horrible dreams. It was his wake up call, one of those funny ones.

In the voice of Arnold Governator Shwarzenager (sp?): "Wake up jackass!"

"Time to shower."

OOC: I was bored.