The office of General Boris Makarov smelled of steel polish and pipe tobacco. The mahogany desk, cracked at its edge, had survived two wars—first against the Tsar, then against the Germans. Behind it stood the General himself, tall, wolf-like, shoulders squared in a uniform with more brass than cloth.
Nikolai stood at attention before him, hands clenched tight behind his back. Outside, the snowstorm howled against the windows of the Kremlin.
"You've seen what the Reich paraded in Johannesburg," Boris said, his voice like gravel dragged across stone. "Their Übermensch. That freak in flesh."
Nikolai didn't flinch. He had watched the footage of Eric tearing apart British tanks with bare hands, smiling as fire danced across his pale skin. The world had applauded, silently terrified.
"I've seen him."
Boris turned toward the window, watching the red flag shiver in the wind. "We lost millions in this war. Millions. And yet, this Eric has made the world forget. That... abomination claims to be the future."
He turned back, softer now. "But the world will remember us again. You, comrade, will remind them."
Nikolai's brow furrowed. "What are you asking of me, General?"
Boris walked slowly toward him. "Do you remember the day we bombed Kyoto?"
Nikolai stiffened. A memory—ashes drifting like snow, a child's eyes wide behind shattered temple glass—flashed behind his eyelids.
"I remember," he said.
"I do, too," Boris whispered. "You asked no questions. You carried out orders. You buried guilt under duty."
Nikolai's jaw clenched.
"We need men like that again." The General placed a hand on his shoulder. "Men like us are the bones of this revolution, Nikolai. It will forget us, yes—but it will never outgrow us."
Silence.
"You want to turn me into him?" Nikolai asked finally.
"No," Boris said. "I want to turn you into something greater. Not a symbol of purity like Eric. A symbol of pain. Of sacrifice. The Red Guardian will be born not from idealism, but from agony."
Nikolai's hands trembled.
"And if I say no?"
Boris's eyes softened—just for a moment. "Then you return to your wife. To your son. You'll watch the world change without you."