Author Notes:
This RM chapter is brought to you by most loyal supporters. Do enjoy it as always, everyone.
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A T-35 multi-turreted tank rolls over the rubble and debris that were densely packed communities with years of history in the city of Kraków. After a full day of bombardment, not many things remain standing in the way of the Rusviet offensive against the ancient city, other than the old city wall that General Rokossovsky has made a conscious effort to keep as intact as possible. Even then, that set of external walls still sports cracks and some holes, consequences of General Rokossovsky needing additional attack vectors and the vibrations from nearby explosions. Nevertheless, it doesn't change the fact that Rusviet soldiers and armor are finally inside Kraków's proper after long days of fighting.
Seizing the chance when the turrets on the T-35 are looking elsewhere, a group of scattered combatants, formed out of desperate Polanians and unwilling mercenaries, spring their ambush. Previously hiding in the shadow of the ruins and even beneath manholes, these fighters use a variety of weapons, many of which are bolt-action rifles and handheld explosives, to attack the T-35 tank and its escorting infantry.
"I'll see you in Hell, Ivan!" An American gunslinger screams his quite original battle cry as he tosses a grenade from the messy foxhole he has dug for himself.
As both sides trade bullets and curses, the grenade arcs and lands near the feet of two Rusviet soldiers who have been taking cover behind the T-35.
"Blyat!" The older of the two soldiers moves to kick the grenade away from the Rusviet formation and into an artillery crater by the side of the battle zone.
Subsequently, the grenade explodes, kicking up dust and debris, but it fails to inflict the damage the American envisioned. However, he now has a good line of sight on the older Rusviet soldier, the one who braved danger to dispatch the grenade away. With a resounding bang, the American mercenary fires a bullet that pierces the torso of the Rusviet, knocking him flat onto the ground.
"Maksim! Damn you!" Comes the shout of the younger Rusviet soldier as he ducks back into cover.
The Rusviet infantryman then reaches for a covered box behind the T-35 and opens it up, revealing a phone that is connected straight to the T-35's crew.
"Sergeant, 3 o'clock! Blow those pieces of shit sky high!" Having picked up the phone, the Rusviet soldier shouts the request loud and clear amidst gunshots and death throes.
Eventually, his request is answered by the turning of the T-35's main turret, which housed a 76 mm infantry support gun.
The American mercenary, after scoring another hit on yet another Rusviet soldier, jumps out of his foxhole in fright when he realizes the cannon is aimed directly at him.
"Motherfu-!"
BOOM
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The shockwave of the distance battlefield travels to the underground command bunker, causing its dimmed internal lighting to flicker on and off before returning to normal. It's here that a certain Polanian General and his son are stuck in limbo, a fact that grated on their nerves, and it showed on their faces and expressions.
"Where! The! Fuck! Is! The! Council!?" The younger of the pair, the son, nearly bellows his bubbling fury at the Polanian bodyguards who stand between them and the supposedly occupied meeting room, where the surviving Council is holding a 'critical session regarding the future of Polania'.
"This meeting room is off-limits." Says a guard. "You are here without authorization. Return, and wait for the Council's summons, when they have a need for your presence."
The bodyguards, although wearing the same Polanian military uniform and wielding the same old rifles, have a distinct lack of traditional ranks and epaulets. Instead, they bear badges that signify their allegiance to the Revolutionary Command Council, and only the Council. A personal defense force that was just recently formed due to the need for protecting the remaining councilmen, probably.
Regardless of the case, the General and his son have no direct authority over these grim-faced, loyal bodyguards who are dead set on preventing the passage.
"Stubborn bastards..." The son curses, fist clenched as the General rests a hand on his shoulder in a calming gesture.
The son steps back, his hand aching for his pistol holster, as the General steps forward with something of a limp, a direct result of experiencing a Belkan-certified artillery salvo firsthand.
The General scans the faces of these bodyguards. In them, he sees the same looks he has only seen on the death troops visible on their faces. They all share the expression of sacrificing themselves for a greater good, if there's any left in this wretched war.
"They're all gone, aren't they? Ran away during that disastrous counteroffensive." The General says with a heavy frown, and the silence of the bodyguards is telling enough.
"Damn selfish pricks..." There are many more colorful words that the General wants to say, but what's the point?
Turning around with a very much annoyed, even furious huff, the General moves away with his son in tow.
"General, did they really...?"
"Of course they did." The General replies, causing the son to go pale at the implication, then go red with anger. "They have always put their interest first and foremost."
"What should we do now, Sir?"
"... Get me the boys."
"Yes, General."
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Inside what used to be a theater, now a fortified field command post and logistical node, the General overlooks the few people who remain the sole factor behind Kraków's continuing resistance against the Red Tide. Of course, the General has made some effort in ensuring this gathering doesn't reach the ears of those die-hard loyalists who continue to venerate the Revolutionary Command Council. It's clear to him that, at this point, only the fools will fight for a cause that has long abandoned them all. As such, the General intends to commit to something drastic.
"Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice." The General starts. "For those of you who may not be familiar with me, I am General Talius. Due to time constraints, I will cut to the chase."
"The Revolutionary Command Council has abandoned Kraków, and its soldiers and citizens, to their fate. As of now, we are a force without a leader."
Unsurprisingly, there's a commotion to be had after the shocking announcement. However, due to the limited number of participants in this meeting, not a lick of sound can be heard outside of the theater.
"Are you for real?" Obviously, not many believe the words outright.
"Then, have any of you managed to catch even a coattail of a singular councilman, or the Chairman himself, recently?" General Talius questions back, forcing the people he invited to face reality. "You, and you, you are all part of the original command bunker staff. Has it ever occurred to you why you were suddenly replaced and transferred to logistics? And you, you were a liaison, responsible for the military's communique to the Council and vice versa. Have you had better luck, or are you also suddenly being blocked at the gate, just like me? Lastly, you are there, the one responsible for supplying the command bunker with necessities, you can tell us straight if there's anything out of the norm these days."
"..." The entire theater falls into a tense silence as people look at one another in uncertainty.
The silence is broken when someone gulps and says aloud.
"We... After we noticed the strange inclusion of foreign mercenaries into the security roster, and that more and more of the so-called 'personal adjutants and aides' frequented the command bunker on a strangely regular basis, we got dispatched to the logistic center."
The words trigger more to come from others. Like a broken dam, everyone starts spewing the thoughts they have kept buried.
"Now that you said it... They haven't requested puddings lately."
"All of the reports and letters that held the concerns of our citizens either got turned away or were received by someone else."
"I got a friend who works at the broadcasting station. Ever since the installation of the landlines and all that, he never once saw the Chairman coming to the station in person. Those soldiers of the Council always come and shoo everyone outside first before the arrival of the Chairman, citing security reasons."
"And don't you see those soldiers? They may be wearing our colors, but they are nothing like us. There's this look in their eyes, and they always respond so curtly. Mingling with those mercenaries is easier on your stomach than coming face to face with those strange troops around the Council."
"Don't the Council ever vacate the meeting room and their chambers nowadays? They still need to go and take a shitter, right?"
Lots and lots of words and opinions are exchanged, many of which may be lacking in veracity, but General Talius doesn't need much in terms of cold, hard truth. The man only needs to have these men in doubt, and what comes next should be easy.
"Gentlemen. Gentlemen..." General Talius raises a hand, putting the vivid discussion on hold. "I know there is much to be discussed about the whereabouts of the councilmen. But you must understand that time is something we are not equipped with in abundance. The Rusviets are fighting us home to home, block to block, as we speak, to be wondering about the nebulous and ineffective state of the Revolutionary Command Council is a luxury we don't have."
The men in the theater look at each other once more before one of the more active participants in the prior discussion speaks up.
"Then what do you suggest we do? If the Council is truly gone, then what's the point of this entire meeting?"
"The point is what comes after this realization." General Talius replies in a serious tone. "Need I say more about the fate that will befall the people of this city, befall us, if the Rusviets claim victory yet the Council is nowhere to be found?"
"... It won't be worse than it is now, right? There are certain conventions to be followed still."
General Talius raises an eyebrow at the nervous person who just said his opinion. "Do you truly think so? The Rusviet Union has its gulags, those are the places they keep the people whom they want to disappear. In a gulag, no one will hear your scream."
"... I rescind my point."
"You better." General Talius scoffs before looking at all the people in the theater. "Staying here is a foolish endeavor. The Council has effectively made us into their scapegoats now that they've vanished elsewhere. Rusviet will sooner pin all the blame on us and ignore the true culprits if that means they can look nicer on the front page of their newspaper. We will suffer a fate worse than death if they get a hold of us, alive."
General Talius stops to take a breather before voicing his final decision.
"As such, as of this point, I refuse to associate myself with the rotting Revolutionary Command Council. I should have done so a long time ago, but such is the fate of a soldier... If you know what's good for you, then I suggest you all do the same."
"... Agree."
"Agree."
"Agree... I am not one to serve the ones that betrayed their very people!"
"Good!" General Talius nods grandly. "From this point forward, we are not acting under the command of the Polanian Revolutionary Command Council. We are our own entity, one that refuses to lie down and die as the Council wills it so! Since the Council abandons us, then don't expect us to die for their sakes!"
"I say we fuck them all!"
"Yeah, fuck the Council!"
Suffice to say, the emotion of some people boils over, and that fact gratifies General Talius. Yet, the man still says.
"Only when we are alive can we speak things like that, and only when we manage to catch their trails. And besides," General Talius jests. "Any of us look like we're sexual deviants to you?"
"Fair point." The sudden joke forces a few laughs from them all, but it does get their emotions under control, forcing them to focus on the present.
General Talius then continues, now that he has garnered their attention.
"Kraków is a dead trap for us, so we need to make a break for it. While the previous counter-offensive was a total trainwreck, it did highlight the fact that Rusviet is unable to set up a perfect siege perimeter around Kraków. More specifically, it has a heavy emphasis on heavy armor combat, giving it little leeway to chase down a breakaway force of sufficient strength and speed, more trouble than it's worth now that the city center is well in their reach."
"You're suggesting?" A member of the logistics department asks. His eyes were already calculating the potential necessity for such a breakaway.
"An evening breakout to the West, heading to Katowice for regroup and resupply, travelling all night and nonstop to avoid enemy pursuer. Of course, I can't promise the certainty of everyone making it out of this alive, but it beats staying here, waiting for our doom."
"How can you be certain that we will be able to break out from the West side?"
"Because it's the only flank yet to be heavily bombarded by enemy tanks and artillery, and we still maintain contact with a few of our outlier garrisons. This means the Russian presence, while still existing, is no doubt weaker than in any other direction. The garrisons in the West are staffed with my trusted subordinates who will help us along the way. We only need to procure some additional vehicles to transport them and their war materials with us for protection." General Talius explains.
"I believe that can be arranged." The logistic officer nods. "We can always commandeer our reserve of civilian vehicles that have been left in disuse when martial law started. I believe the gear heads can work out something with them."
"That will be very helpful." The General says. "Time is short, however."
"I will see to it that the mechanics get on with it as fast as possible after this meeting."
"And who will form this breakout convoy of ours. Surely we aren't to run away with just us and your soldiers, General Talius?"
"Unfortunately, we're all bleeding hearts." The General scoffs, but his eyes betray his seriousness. "Women and children only are our utmost priority, preferably those who share our cause of survival. Come Hell or high water, we need to ensure at least a part of our next generation isn't raised under the Red Banner, or the Council's rotting vision."
"Well said!" Applaud the only elder in the group. He's a war doctor in the Great War era, and now the leader of Kraków remaining medical facility. "You can entrust the task of vetting the civilians to me. But I will need a number to work with. Surely we can't bring out many civilians on this breakout, right?"
"Unfortunately, it all depends on our available vehicular leeway." General Talius nods grimly. "But are you sure you want to take on this accursed task, Doctor Blazkowicz? You're effectively picking those who get to live and die."
The old Doctor shrugs with a wry smile on his wrinkled fate. "Won't be the first time, and certainly won't be the last. Such is the face of a Doctor, General Talius."
"I understand... Well then, let's get to work." General Talius says with finality.