NationStates Jolt Archive

Shanghai, Jiangsu Province, China, Stoklomolvi Federation

"All set, sir?"

"Da, tovarishch. Let us go."

Mikhail, Grigor, three aides, and Putin boarded a Tupolev Tu-444 transport to Anagonia for a discussion of the current international situation. At the Shanghai International Airport, the three leaders and the aides were given only the best of treatment, and the aircraft roared off the runway. As it passed the control tower, it sped up to supersonic, sending a shockwave that ripped apart a small fence as it flew overhead. The plane would arrive in Anagonia within the next day.

New Moscow International Airport, New Moscow, Anagonian Province of Nodea Rudav

Premier Dimitri Vladinchi, elected only a few months ago, represented the common interests of all Rudavians to the Anagonian Republic. Previously a Colonel in the Soviet Army, he gained reputation by trying the Political Life. He relished the glory of serving the people, pleasing them, and gaining raise after raise from the People he represented with each good service he did. When they were happy, so was he, and eventually they elected him Premier. His term had been uneventful, despite being called to the Chief Governor's office to give advice a few times. His People loved him, the Rudavian news networks showered him with praise, and his economy flourished. He even visited a few foreign allies to pass the time. And then he got the call from Johnny concerning Stoklomolvi, and he danced all night long while the media had a field day.

When the Tupolev Tu-444 landed, Dimitri was in a Generals uniform. He was only fifty-four, showing aged silver hair with black lining. The uniform fit perfectly, matching his dark green eyes. He had a mustache, trimmed and lining above his lips. Clean-shaven, and looking quite the diplomatic type. Behind him was his personal transportation, a car in black looking like a sedan. Two other black SUV's from an Anagonian company were in front and behind his vehicle, but he the only one standing in the afternoon light.

"Finally," he said to himself happily, "I get a chance to change the world."

New Moscow International Airport, New Moscow, Anagonian Province of Nodea Rudav
Morning, 0823 hours
Weather clear and sunny

The six men and the pilot strolled across the warm tile floor of the airport, heading towards the front entrance. Anagonia in general was somewhat warm in comparison to Stoklomolvi, causing the men to take off their thick fur coats and ushankas to reveal rather stiff jet black suits. They then put on service caps with the Stoklomolvi coats of arms on them. After they exited the building, they stood for a few moments.

[OOC: Sorry, was busy and have writer's block still.]

OOC: No problem. I'm busy half the time too, don't ya know? And dang you for making my character stand all night!

IC:

After a few hours Dimitri had realized he was quite early, somehow the advanced technology of the day had mistaken the aircraft transporting the Stoklomolvi representatives for something else. He ordered somebody to get that checked out, and went to a Hotel for the night. After resting, he returned alone in his vehicle having ordered his personal escort to take leave for the weekend. It was around eight o'clock in the morning when he arrived at the New Moscow International Airport, his car parked in front of the large buildings exit. When he recognized six men as foreigner's around eight twenty-three, and definitley Stoklomolvi by their coat of arms on their service caps, he walked towards them wearing an identical uniform as he wore yesterday and waving to the six.

"Comrade Brethren! I am Soviet Premier Dimitri Vladinchi of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics of Nodea Rudav," his voice had a rather European tone in it, mixed with a slight Russian slur. "Whom do I have the honor to meet this fine morning?" He extended his hand to shake, offering to the first of the six.

[OOC: Crap, absolutely did not see the word "afternoon" in your post. :p]

New Moscow International Airport, New Moscow, Anagonian Province of Nodea Rudav
Morning, 0823 hours
Weather clear and sunny

Mikhail shook Dimitri's hand a bit more vigorously than he would normally, though soon stopped and stepped back.

"Hail Anagonia! I am President Mikhail Alexeiovich Stuyonovich, leader of the Stoklomolvi Federation, semi-protectorate of the United Republics of Anagonia. To my left is Grigor Aleksandrovich Stuyonovich, former foreign commissar and present Civilian Management Minister, who could be considered my uncle in a way."

Grigor raised his hand to the side of his head, palm facing Dimitri, and placed it down.

"And to my right is Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, Minister of Foreign Affairs and a close friend of mine."

"Hail!"

He made the same gesture as Grigor.

"The three others are our aides. Adrian, Vadim, and Pyotr. Adrian is our technology adviser for this trip, Vadim is the official researcher for Anagonian affairs [OOC: Read as my searching through information about Anagonia.], and Pyotr is our adviser on Anagonian culture."

The three also hailed Anagonia.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, great Premier."

Grigor stayed rather silent, while Putin was smiling broadly.

Dimitri never felt so praised in his life! Seeing people hail him as if he were a god, or something of the sort. He imitated the gesture back to them, pleased by the handshake, then looked back at his vehicle. This was definitley not a proper mode of transportation. If they thought him such a great leader, despite the fact they were hailing Anagonia and not Nodea Rudav, he might as well treat them right. He nodded, grabbing a PDA from his uniform pocket, and making a short call. A few minutes later after speaking in a hard to decipher language, he looked back.

"Gentlemen, it is my honor as Premier of the greatest province in Anagonia to represent our glorious United Republic." He gave a short bow of his head, "Since this is a historic visit, I have arranged for other modes of transportation to a military base. There you can see the Glory of my Beautiful Soviet Empire!" He gleamed, almost as if taking too much attention in, then lost his smile instantly. "There we shall dine, and discuss matters while we watch things explodes, a favorite Anagonian pass time."

He looked at Grigor then, noticing he was silent and probably uninterested. He looked to Putin, returning the smile, then turned his full attention to Mikhail, giving quick glances to the aides. He smiled, "Comrade Brethren Mikhail, let us discuss things while we wait." He gestured towards the vehicle, "In Anagonia, leaning on vehicles for comfort is casual and acceptable! Isn't that interesting! I tell you after researching most Soviet nations I found out that would get you killed, but not here!" He laughed heatedly, "And speaking of killing, before I insult my guests to madness how may I properly prepare any meal or gesture to your traditions? I do not wish to insult my Brethren."

Mikhail rubbed his hands together and had an evil smirk on his face.

"Exploding things? Heh, excellent."

Mikhail was young, and had become president as part of a compromise between the hard-liner communist government and the liberals, who gained much ground in only a week. While relatively inexperienced, he had the mind to lead. Grigor, a more taciturn fellow than most, was interested in touring Nodea Rudav and perhaps the rest of Anagonia as well, though had little to say as he felt that showing meant more than telling. Putin was more of a public relations man, and started conversing with the aides about Anagonia, who happily talked about their previous experiences with Anagonia.

Mikhail soon walked over to Dimitri.

"In Stoklomolvi, meals are typically just served with rice or bread. Each person receives a bowl of carbohydrate product, such as rice, and then several plates of food are served for everyone to eat. I do believe that traditions in Stoklomolvi and Anagonia are far more similar than one might think."

Dimitri noticed Mikhail's evil smirk, and was delighted. He would show them the true power of Anagonia, and maybe arrange for a nuclear test for their own personal amusement. After all, Anagonia had tested nukes before, trying to get the radiation count down. They had succeeded, and nukes were a popular pass time and occasionally shown during online remixes for the internet savvy. Upon hearing the dining traditions of the Stoklomolvi, he was pleased. Now he wouldn't have to make changes, and the Base was already getting ready for the visit.

After a few minutes of the wind blowing and aircraft taking off, the sound of twin-rotors filled the air. Over the horizon a V-22 Osprey could be seen heading towards their location. It was colored red, like in the Soviet Flag, and as it approached over the next few minutes it circled around the group. Under its belly the Hammer and Sickle of the Soviet Banner was seen, surrounded by a star. It was a beautiful sight to Dimitri, who waved for the men to come closer. The Osprey then landed a few meters away from the car, a Soldier coming out to enter the vehicle. He started towards the Osprey.

"Come along, Comrade Brethren! My vehicle will be returned to my Glorious Residence, while we take a ride in a Rudavian Osprey!"

"Excellent. Come on, comrades!"

The five others walked out of the airport, and followed Mikhail. Grigor's face lit up in happiness as he say the hammer and sickle once more. It had been a long time since Stoklomolvi was communist, and the Soviet flag brought fond memories of the past. He remembered calling the Grestonian leaders aubergines, declaring war on random, small, annoying countries for no reason, and threatening countries with nukes because he could. Now, he just managed the civilians. It was fun, since he could force some civilians to run around because he wanted them to, but it wasn't as fun as watching nuclear explosions ripping people apart. Still, perhaps he would see some again. Grigor leaned over to Mikhail, who was staring at the Soviet flag and mouthing the words to the old Stoklomolvi anthem. Mikhail was startled.

"Hey, Mikhail, you think we'll get to see some nuclear fireworks?"

"Possibly. Oh, how much I miss those..."

Dimitri guided the six onto the Osprey, the bay door shutting closed. The interior wasn't spacious, and it wasn't cramped. The Osprey had been modified for comfort, rather than war, and instead of the usual side seats and straps for soldiers there was what looked like couches siding the walls of the inside, with straps of course. Three Soviet Troopers, donned in red armor that included a full facial helmet, saluted the Premier by stomping their feet and raising their weapons. Dimitri gave a salute back, and they went back to their places. He motioned his Stoklomolvi brethren to sit, strapping himself in once he sat down.

"I know it looks like something between a military headache and a wannabe luxury aircraft, but were working on it." Dimitri chuckled, the floor was red carpet. At the very center was the same Hammer and Sickle that was on the bottom of the Osprey, "I hope you find our nation pleasing so far, and I do so hope you like nuclear explosions."

The Osprey tilted forward slightly, and outside the wooden-lined view ports at the sides of the Osprey's interior Mikhail and the rest could see the airport fade into the distance and lush forests take over the scenery. Only a few roads would be visible here, as all of Anagonia cherished its environmental heritage to the max. In the far distance one could even glimpse one of the giant Solar Power plants as the Morning Sun reflected off her tower and ground panels. Dimitri smiled, gazing at the six again. "I plan on demonstrating our naval and land power while were here, so be ready for your 'sea legs'."

Mikhail, a man who disliked water, cringed at the thought of standing on a battleship, but only slightly. He did like the prospect of seeing nuclear explosions, though. After a short period of silence, he looked to Dimitri.

"Say, how about a duel? Right here, right now, using pointy sabres?"

With that, Mikhail drew a sheathed sabre from his coat. He drew the sabre, and then held it with the point pointing at Dimitri. Grigor, Putin, and the aides were unmoved. They just continued to look out the windows, admiring the actual green scenery that they had not seen for weeks.

Dimitri stood, nodding, as one of his soldiers handed him a warhammer and scythe. He gripped them both, the warhammer looking more like a working class blunt hammer, ready to drive a spike into something. He grinned, gazing at Mikhail and twirled his scythe and hammer between his fingers. He started to circle around the Hammer and Sickle emblem of the Soviet Empire, and behind him the soldiers preoccupied themselves by talking amongst themselves.

"Don't worry my dear Comrade," he laughed, "I won't hurt you...much."

With that, he used his front leg as leverage to be planted on the ground, his body sideways and the hand with the hammer poised to strike. The scythe taken in a defensive posture to his chest as he slowly moved sideways of Mikhail. "That puny Sabre will be broken, like the British Empire!"

Mikhail shed his hat.

"The communist sabre never fails!"

He lunged forward with the sabre, the point directed at Dimitri's chest. He knew that neither of them will die because of some strange divine intervention. Unfortunately, he stumbled on his left boot, and then let go of his sabre, which was sent flying towards Dimitri at an odd angle.

Dimitri raised an eyebrow at his puzzling move, noticing he had no balance whatsoever. He contemplated for a split second that perhaps Mikhail was not worthy of the Revolution, but to oust this belief Dimitri replaced it with an assumption that perhaps Mikhail just stumbled at the worst possible moment. Either way, as the sabre flew forth towards Dimitri at the very odd angle, he moved sideways easily to watch it fling to the carpet floor of the Osprey. Dimitri gazed back at it, eyebrow still raised, and slowly turned his head back to Mikhail.

"Comrade," he said in an intimidating fashion, "if I am to have a spar, it must be with someone who knows how to fight." He shook his head, lowering his eyebrow and tossing the Scythe over to Mikhail, "Take this weapon, and do not stumble with it. I fear if you do, it might fly back to hit you in the arse."

Dimitri stanced again, giving enough time for Mikhail to catch the scythe and assume a stance of his own. He then began a slow walk forward, raising his warhammer, and then charged with his hammer raised poised to slam it down on Mikhail's head.

Mikhail, having caught the scythe, rolled a bit to his right and swept the scythe along the ground before jumping onto a chair. Grigor rested his head on his hands, and Putin was watching intently. Mikhail was jumping around, swinging the scythe like a madman, and then tossed the scythe on the ground. He took out a small hammer and a sickle from his coat, and threw them at Dimitri before snatching the sabre off the floor.

Dimitri laughed loud as the tiny hammer and scythe bounced off his clothing, looking like eraser tops or some other invention. He continued on his course for beating Mikhail, impressed by his ingenuity and stamina thus far. He pounded his chest with a fist, hammer still raised as he followed Mikhail's wild jumps.

"You act like a Monkey! Stop playing around and fight like a homo sapien!"

He followed Mikhail as he snatched his sabre, impressed once more, then turned and stanced in a defense posture. "So I see it comes down to this! You throwing Monopoly trinkets and me laughing at your insanity!"

"Monopoly trinkets! Ha! How about this?"

Mikhail took a larger, iron sickle, and threw it laterally at Dimitri. Then he made a diagonal slash with his sabre before crouching and jumping across the ground, stomach facing the ground, with the aim of catching Dimitri's leg.

"Oh cra-"

The sickle hit Dimitri square in the face, the force of the impact making him do a backflip. In slow motion, Mikhails sabre strike hit home, and he twisted as he flipped. Everyone watching would not that as soon as he flipped three revolutions, twisting in the process, he slammed hard against the floor and didn't move afterward.

Mikhail looked up, saw the man do flips in the air, and yelled out as he landed on him. Mikhail's eyes bugged out as if someone was pushing them from the inside, as the hammer landed on his stomach and Dimitri landed on his chest. Grigor and Putin stopped smiling and talking and jumped up, Putin lifting Dimitri up and setting him on a line of chairs. Grigor rolled Mikhail over after kicking the hammer off of his stomach, and set him on the other side of the helicopter. Both grimly stared at the two leaders.

OOC: SORRY! The dang thing didn't show you posted!

IC:

Dimitri Vladinchi was out for a good thirty minutes time, long enough for the Osprey to travel and land at the Military Base. By the time he regained consciousness, hordes of soldiers and officials of either medical background or professions filled his vision. He noticed they were around Mikhail as well, and his memory flooded back to him concerning their spar. He tried to lift himself from the seat, but the Medics refused to allow him, insisting they were still ensuring his safety and condition. He grumbled, gazing around, baffled that such a sortie could end with near fatal results. All he intended was good fun with a new Brethren, not something around the lines of suicide.

It took another thirty minutes before anyone allowed him to move, and upon doing so he stumbled a few times. A Rudavian Soldier immediately came up to hold the Premier standing. He signaled to get near Mikhail, and once there found the strength to push everyone aside and landing on one knee to check Mikhail for himself. "Comrade," he said while patting the cheek of Mikhail to wake him, "Comrade are you alright?"