Prologue

"This shall be your part in the changing of the world, this shall be your work for the People and for the Revolution. You have volunteered to give your life for the promise of a bright future for our world. Go now, and make Marx proud"

The words echoed in her head ever since she had heard them, late last night, in a meeting that supposedly did not happen with people that supposedly would never say those words. She didn't know if anyone apart from her had volunteered, or even the identity of anyone else of the Revolution. The only thing she knew was that Anna Stasova had fought hard for a revolution, for a cause, and that that cause was being manipulated and distorted by a man that had grabbed the reigns of power as a reborn Tsar. She would not let this continue any longer, would not let her country, her people, sink again into the rule of a power-mad and malicious ruler. Stalin would die today, even though she would have to give her life to accomplish it.

Four soldiers watched over Joseph Stalin while he walked the short distance from the door of the building to the vehicle. It would be nearly impossible for anyone to get close enough to assassinate him. Unless, of course, you were one of the soldiers themselves.

Anna felt drops of sweat coalesce on her forehead, despite the freezing weather, and hoped the other three wouldn't notice. He heard him approaching, she would have to act soon. She realized then that she frantically did not want to die. She wanted to see the future of her country, not simply fall hoping for it. The instinctive drive for survival threatened to ruin her plans forever, but when she heard steps approaching and the man she most hated in the whole world come out the doorway, her mind settled to an unnatural calm.

If you don't do it, there will be no future. Bring back the Revolution. Make Marx proud.

She raised her rifle, and with a cry of "For the People! For Communism!" shots were fired. She felt the other three's immediate and bewildered reaction, felt the shots slamming into her, but just before the darkness overwhelmed her, she glimpsed the man that had betrayed her and all the people of Russia falling lifelessly in a splatter of blood. She died smiling. She had made Marx proud.

From there and then on, things were different.