

COLORS

OF THE

ROGUE STATE

Rednecks and Blueballs

A Justin Conley Piece
COLORS OF THE ROGUE STATE:

REDNECKS AND BLUEBALLS

By

Justin Conley

Copyright

The Imperfect Society 2018

Published

by

The Imperfect Society
FOREWARD

This is the story of a planet known as Merica of a new century, the only planet in a small spiral galaxy. For this story, I used the archetype of New York City to make out the structure of Merica's five continents. Like New York City, Merica is known for its borders and diversity. The name of the continents, names after the five boroughs of New York City, are used as a simple way to enhance the story. This, or the characters in this book, isn't, in any way, a way to insult or to degrade. It is only used to improve imagination and excitement.

If that doesn't bother you, then I welcome you to the planet Merica, the main character of this story and other stories therein. In telling about the world of Merica, the credit will be given where credit is due. I hope New York City likes this story very much. I couldn't have found a better model to use.

On with the story...
1. KING OF MERICA

Moscow Russ XII relaxed around his vacation home in Aliahan Village on the continent of Staten Island. He went there to relax with his wife, Samara VI, on the beach in their secret penthouse Moscow's men had built for just this occasion.

However, this was not an occasion.

Outside the planet, a war was going on; a war that Moscow himself brought together.

Moscow took a view of one of their two moons that dwell in the skies of the galaxy. For this occasion, one was shining brighter than the other. Even though they were two small moons, they had powerful light. Moscow and Samara, as well as his five children, were enjoying it just the same.

Despite the war, he thought that this was not going to ruin his fun. As his children were playing, four daughters and one son, the next king, Moscow and Samara were relaxing in chairs on the patio of their penthouse. Moscow noticed the large amounts of guards. Samara was nervous around them. He needed them everywhere he went, especially with the wars.

"I wish you didn't need those guards," Samara said in her sweet voice, a voice she always used with her husband, whom he had so much love for.

"I know," Moscow said sincerely. "I wish I didn't need them, either. But for this, they're necessary."

"For the riots?"

"Yes! The riots. They're still brewing. I tried to make examples, but they keep coming."

"They don't like these wars. I don't understand why we need them myself."

"Because they don't like what I'm doing. They don't like that I'm ruling Merica. They don't like my family and the dynasty. After everything, they hate me now. I'm only doing what I was inherited to do. That's all I can do. Nothing more. Am I right?"

Samara smiled. "Of course, darling. That's all you can do. I just feel for our children."

"I know. They don't need to know about all this. Hopefully, it would be peaceful when they take their places in the spectrum of our kingdom. For now, we need to keep them safe until whatever this is passes!"

"If it ever does."

Moscow did not comment on the last sentence. He reached for a paper near him and looked at the front page. He could see a news story on the war.

So far, it was mediocre news. There had been many of them. Every day there was a story about the war. It could be about causalities, certain movements, and battles into different territory. Mostly, it was about criticism of Moscow's decisions, and the repercussions of those decisions in the form of riots from the Mericans of all the continents.

"We have to leave soon," Moscow told his wife. "It won't be safe. I don't' see why we came in the first place."

"Because you need to regroup," Samara said.

"Sure," he said. "But will that be enough?"

"It'll be enough if you say it will."

Moscow looked at the face of his beautiful wife. He was still feeling the love after all this time. She formed some wrinkles from constant stress over the years with him. He knew that she was trying her best to stay strong for their children's sake.

"I don't deserve someone like you in my life," he said. "After all these years, I still love you. And you could have left at any time, after all the stupid decisions I made. Mericans hate me now and want me dead."

"It will die off," Samara said. "They'll love you again."

But the fact remained the same. Moscow had not accomplished what he wanted. He knew that somewhere in his mind, he could not stop the chaos even if he wanted it. It had gotten to the point where his dynasty and the present chaos had intertwined with each other.

Moscow raised himself up and went inside the house. Samara saw her children as they continued to laugh. She feared the worst. She only wished that they could stay here forever, staying away from the worse coming from Manhattan and spreading.

When he went inside, he went into the living room, where the king's lead guard named Warsaw was reading a book as he watched the home. Moscow sat with him.

"We're leaving this place soon," he said.

"Are you sure?" Warsaw asked.

"No! But I don't have a choice. Arrange it."

"Yes, sir!"

"And another thing. Try to contact the General. Tell him of my return and get new information from him about what's waiting for me when I get back to the palace."

****

For at least twenty years, the war that has been dubbed the Eve of Moons War had been fought outside and within Merica. Outside, the forces of King Moscow Russ XII were fighting a brave fight that had gotten grittier since coming out with the heavy artillery. Within Merica itself, however, it was a different story. People were protesting against the king and his dynasty. There had been riots around the continent of Manhattan and the surrounding continents in Merica, including Bronx, Brooklyn, and Queens.

So far, they were failures, but the resentment between a leader and his people never left. Through the years, the bad blood boiled over to the point that they were itching for another chance when they could take them down and established their own rule.

Unfortunately, Moscow was not merciful for the rioters. Any that were captured were given a quick trial and sentenced to death, carried out by Moscow's Royal Guard.

It was just the way Ivan Moscow wanted. And whatever Moscow wanted, Moscow got.

There was nothing anyone could do about it. He ruled the continental capital of Manhattan, which meant in his mind he could bend all of Merica to his will. Manhattan was the center of the action and attention. It was where all the transactions happen. Whatever happened to Merica depended on who controlled Manhattan.

For years, Moscow and Samara Russ, the super-couple of Merica, had ruled with riches, courtesy of the hardworking people of Merica. There was no one who could deal with his wrath. He came from a long line of Russ kings that ruled Merica for centuries.

During the start of the war, around the Merican Era (M.E.) 4000, they would have celebrated 23 centuries of ruling Merica; fifteen of those centuries with Manhattan as their home base. During the war, which was nothing more than small altercations with fellow races of species around the galaxy; a small, spiral galaxy consisting of five moons that occupied the entire galaxy along with two small suns formed from powerful supernovas; Moscow recruited men to fight for his royal army. However, Moscow knew no one would support him.

So the war draft was issued. This started the fuming anger for the people of Merica. The urban poor and the few middle-class people were sent to space to fight the war for the glory of the Russ dynasty. It was ludicrous, the people thought, but no one spoke out.

The aristocracy had gone through changes as every ten rulers came out of power. It had gotten worse since Moscow Russ XII came into power.

Like the others, Moscow had taken money from the people thanks to leaders he appointed to run the continents and used it to host lavish parties and making Manhattan beautiful. So far, he was only able to make the upper half of the continent beautiful, mostly around the Twin Montors, two cities that were named Montors. The Russ Palace was the grandest of all the buildings he spent substantial amounts of money on.

All the extravagant spending and the continuous Eve of Moons War were bringing enemies from nowhere and Moscow did not have a clue. Some of his officials warned him, but all Moscow could think about was that his father gave him Merica to rule and no one was going to take him from the throne except the gods of the universe.

When Moscow was younger, he was seen as an international celebrity. He and his wife were the celebrity couple everyone wanted to be. Everywhere they went their love followed them. With their love, they had produced five children. Also with that love, they had formed a connection with all Mericans. They traveled from continent to continent for their honeymoon to build up a reputation for the people. Since he was young, he had the charisma that could charm all nations.

And charmed them he did. That charm had put him way above the political spectrum.

During the start of his rule, Moscow Russ was the one most could count on to better Merica. A part of the reason was because of the color lines that divided the people of Merica.

During the beginning of the formation of Merica, colors divided people. From whatever color, a Merican male or female embraced out of their mother's womb, determined the rest of his or her life. There were seven major color races and creeds: red, blue, green, orange, yellow, indigo, and violet. With the exception of indigo and violet, large populations formed from the other color races and clans. Then, there were two special color clans: white and black. The white color clan was seen as an absorber of color races. They could blend with anyone, turned someone into a different color, and still keep their beauty intact. They were seen as the most elegant of the color races, while the black color clan was seen as the shadow of all colors, destroying the beauty from the other color races because when mixed together, the black consumed all color, making that Merican black as well.

Dealing with the color clans was the first great challenge for Moscow as a leader. He knew that whatever he decided, he was going to be hated by one group or all of them if it was just a complete failure. One of his plans was to kill anyone of the black clans, by whatever means. Executions were common among this group of people and so far, it seemed as if the black color clan was destroyed forever.

However, this was not the case. Some had escaped and were able to breed with other colors, making more populations of blacks.

Another plan was to put barriers around color lines. This had worked to an extent. They knew that some colors were getting more of an advantage from the king than others. This only escalated riots among the color lines. It had gotten worse when they were forming in the heart of Manhattan.

Moscow did not care about the other continents, although he knew how some of the leaders he appointed dealt with it. Most of them simply placed limitations among different color lines, segregating some aspects of life to certain color clans. This caused hatred among the leaders, but thanks to Moscow, they were dispersed.

Then came the worst of the plans. Moscow figured that if he could not separate them, then he would breed out the colors. He knew that the only way they could destroy the color barriers was to make generations of new color clans. It seemed like a great plan at least for Upper Manhattan, where the remaining population of rare, aristocratic pure white Mericans dwelled.

He put this to the test on Staten Island, where most of the population was of indigo and violet color clans. However, the one thing this caused was a certain taboo. This built up more rape crimes by white Mericans on indigo and violet women, most of them being soldiers of Moscow's Royal Guard or officials of Moscow's massive court.

More riots came. More riots dispersed. Moscow had gotten to the point where there was no way he could stop the colors from fighting each other and settle for trying to make sure that it did not disrupt his royal court.

There was one plan that did work. He was giving jobs in working for his Royal Guard to the different color clans. People of different colors came to Manhattan and were welcomed into the court. They were given training and sent to different parts of Merica, where they built their families and their futures. It was one positive thing Moscow could do, and he was respected for it if not for anything else.

Then came the Eve of Moons War. With the start of the war, around M.E. 4000, the idea was to stop the emerging opponents from the five moons of Merica. Moscow told them it was a crusade against their ancient opponents; that with this crusade he was carrying out, he was eliminating anyone trying to attack their home. However, some soldiers discovered that there was more to it than that. Because of the gossip and the intensification of the war, some of them disbanded themselves from the army and their loyalty to King Moscow.

What they did not know was that with this rebellious move, they officially made themselves new opponents of Moscow's court.
2. REVOLUTIONARIES OF MERICA

In a cabin in the grassland south of Staten Island, around a town near the city of Yew, a man awaited his friends to come to him by his door. It was supposed to be a gathering of his group, where they were food and black wine for all. He had prepared for the moment. His cabin was not fancy, but it had to play the part of an illustrious place for this particular evening. It was a relatively large cabin, built during the late 3090's by his hands and his brain.

The Merican known as Peter St. Petersburg was a young architect on the rise. His skills in his twenty-five-year-old body had made the greatest of monuments of Merica. It did not matter that he was a white-skinned Merican who was seen for their peaceful intellect.

He saw cars and hovercrafts coming from the distance.

Here we go, he thought.

He knew that things were going to heat up the minute they stepped into his home. Conversations were going to be intense. He could not blame them because this was a crucial time for them as Mericans. He knew that whatever was talked about and whatever came out from this special gathering was going to change the Russ dynasty forever.

Males and females started coming out from their vehicles. He went inside, making sure everything was in place, making sure the table was set, the food was right with the help of cooks he personally paid for himself to cater for the evening. When all was done, he checked the elegance of his cabin. He was proud of himself. Within a short time, he was able to fix his cabin into a palace within itself. He thought to himself that the inside was more glamorous than the inside of the Russ Palace in Upper Manhattan.

Minutes later, all parties involved entered inside, watching the top and bottom of the cabin and amazed that this was an actual cabin.

Peter smiled at them. "Welcome!"

They went to him and shook their hands. Some patted him on the back and some of his closest friends gave him a hug. By the time all of them came in, they all went to the table. He looked outside one more time before going to the table himself. He could see some guards watching out for outsiders.

Nothing must disturb this night, Peter thought.

Moscow had mistaken the fact that the riots happening in regard to the war were disorganized and spontaneous. This was another mistake on his part. They were a secret organization of revolutionaries called the Legion of Rebellious Destruction, or LORD.

Since the start of the riots, regular hard-working Mericans became soldiers for the cause. They may not have much experience in combat, but they had the will to attack, which was more than they needed.

There was a circle of main officers, formed during the last two years of riots, around M.E. 4010 consisting of twelve men; men who were strong in character, strength, will. Most of all, they were regular citizens or former soldiers.

All of them had formed a powerful friendship. Eight of them were central to the group, bringing their own knowledge and uniqueness to the forefront of the group.

One of them included Peter St. Petersburg.

Peter took his seat and told everyone that the meeting was coming to order. There was silence from all. Only St. Petersburg would talk until he asked otherwise.

"I welcome you all to this meeting," Peter started. "I know you all are wondering what this is about. Some of you probably know what this is about and want to know where we go from here. Well, all of those answers would be revealed tonight. Just remember, these are only ideas and opinions from one mind, so anyone who has an opinion of their own will get their chance to speak. For the time being, I would ask you to hold all questions and concerns until I'm finished."

Peter viewed all the faces. Some he knew too well while others he met once or twice.

One face that stood out among the group was a personal comrade named Berlin Heidrich. Everyone knew of his reputation. He was the ultimate general of the group. Peter would gaze at him and wished that he had half the determination. He was a slender, bright red-skinned Merican who carried a mystique wherever he went.

Then, there was another comrade that stood out named Budapest, or Buda for short, a green-skinned Merican. He was a strategist on the battlefield, but he was not a soldier like Berlin. To the side of him was another green-skinned Merican, Zuran Prague, who was part of the reason the LORD was created. He was a regular broker and financier of a few of the smaller riots around Lower Manhattan when he joined the ranks of LORD.

There were others, but in Peter's mind, if there were stars in the group, he was sure those men would move the group forward for sure.

Peter continued after taking a drink of some crystal water for his throat. "A part of the reason for this meeting is the new strategy going into this thing of ours. As we know, the previous riots and rebellions have ended in disaster and comrades executed. Well, this is different. Our entire approach will be different. We must have some sort of organization. That's the only reason this group is still around after all this. After there was a chance that we all could be killed. This new strategy, for it to succeed, will rely on organization. We're going to launch a new campaign. No more protests. No more small rebellions. This would be an organized, full-scale assault on all of Merica. I call this assault 'Operation: Destructive Criticism.'"

Everyone looked at each other.

"Operative Destructive Criticism?" Zuran Prague asked. "What is this all about?"

"Let me finish," Peter said. "I'll explain. What this operation consists of is full-scale, planned assaults using different methods of attack. For instance, attacking monuments symbolizing the king's power. Attacking the king's outposts. Even going as far as suicide fighters."

Suicide fighters, all were thinking.

"Whatever we plan, it shall be in regard to the organization. That is crucial for this to work. And I think it will because of where we are in the spectrum of Merica. So far, Moscow's main focus is on the war. He's taking time off of Merica. That gives us a chance to strike. And strike we will, harder than ever before. Once again, with emphasis on the organization."

Peter cleared his throat. "That comes to the second part of this meeting. How do we get that organization? Well, it starts with all of us getting along. We have been seeing disputes of views and opinions ever since the start of this. We come from different colors and different creeds. I know that some of you can't get along with others. There are some of you now that are envious of me because of my white skin. And I could even say that I'm envious of some of you. But there's one thing we all have in common. We all want to change. We all don't like what King Moscow and Queen Samara Russ are doing in the scheme of things. That's the only thing that's keeping everyone from tearing heads. For the time being, we can bring our opinions to the table. Afterward, we can all have one focus!"

Peter stood up and straightened out his shirt. "I want all of you to listen to this carefully before we talk about strategy. Your past, who you are, who you could be, who you love or hate. None of those things will matter when we leave this cabin. I want all of you to have one thing on your mind and one thing only. Revolution! I'll say that word again. Revolution! When we leave, everything changes. The LORD will be all about revolution."

Peter paused. Everyone's eyes were dead on his face.

"Now," Peter said. "We can talk about strategy. Feel free to bring your opinion to the table."

Peter walked away from his seat and went to the same window he viewed before his soldiers entered his cabin.

From there, everyone talked at once. Some were talking about their families while others were talking about the new strategy. Then, Zuran Prague quieted everyone down.

"Alright, let me get this straight," Prague said. "This is a new approach? Have we ever done this before?"

"That's what makes it unusual to the cause," Peter said. "It has never been attempted."

"And what about these suicide fighters? What's that all about?"

"Let me ask you all a question. All of you have seen a building fall, right? Me being an architect, that's a common thing. I've seen buildings rise and fall. Now picture a building imploding. This building has innocent people in the proximity of the bomb. Innocent and alive with every care in the world. Picture that bomb blowing up and those people inside. Lives took in the blink of an eye. That is what I'm talking about."

Some people's mouths dropped.

"As I said," Peter continued. "This is nothing like we did before. This isn't just about some measly protest. We've seen that it doesn't help. Neither does the rioting. Moscow continues to wield his power without a worry in the world. With this strategy, it's all about getting his attention, bringing him down from space."

"And you're absolutely sure that it's possible?" Budapest asked.

"It is and it will, Buda," Peter said. "I'm sure of this. With this operation, Moscow won't have a choice but to see what's going on. And when he does, he might fight back. That's why it won't be just about suicide bombers. We want this to be global. The organization, ladies and gentlemen! We're going to run this group like it's an enterprise because that's what it is. We're not just a gang of revolutionaries and we're going to show Moscow why."

"In what way?" Budapest asked.

"The media," Peter said. "It's used to give insight into the war. Well, we're going to do the same and take it one step further. We want the papers and the screens to talk about it all. The battles. The speeches. We're going to have some musicians sing songs about it. We're going to have writers write books about it. We're going to bring this to the attention of the entire Russ court. He won't be able to ignore it because it'll be ringing in his ears. And I'm sure he will fight back, but when he does, we'll be ready to take it to the heart of Manhattan. As our battle plans are concerned, some of us are going to attack by sea and air while some of us are going into shadow modes, attacking from the heart of the continents. Comrade Berlin and his army will lead."

"And we'll be ready," Berlin said. "All we need is the word."

"We'll also deal with certain forts and points that could be vital to us," Peter said. "There's more to sort out as well. For now, we'll eat and let you digest what we talked about before we continue."

Peter gave the signal for the waiters to come and serve the food. All of them ate with the fury of a starving army who had been at war for far too long. Peter once again stared at his group, all the while thinking that he never thought he would be leading men of different colors to their possible deaths. He did not think he could bring men who in another time would have never got along together for one cause. He did not like how this could all end, but he knew that it was necessary. He saw them talking to one another while he was being quiet, talking in his mind. There was more that had to be dealt with and he had all the time in the world. He wanted to use all that time he had wisely, all the time to think and use his head, say the right word that would make sense. Everyone was a leader in the LORD, but he was the one everyone was looking up to. He did not want the position, but the matter was already settled during the start of the group

For hours, the meeting went on with talks of strategies and opinions firing from left to right. Peter did his best to keep it calm. He said his peace and he let his comrades speak. There were arguments, but all for the cause. In a strange way, it was what he wanted.

Organization.

After the meeting, everyone was leaving for their homes. Some were going to say goodbye to their families while others were going home for confirmation of orders.

Peter St. Petersburg stayed behind, saying goodbye to all his guests with hugs and kisses. He knew that when it was over, half of those leaders would be at another place.

Peter went outside and took a look at the moons in the distance. He turned another direction and ran into two others who stayed behind: the true soldier Berlin and strategist Budapest "Buda" Ongar. They came to his side, young men with all the life in them.

"Nice, isn't it?" Budapest asked.

"Yes!" Peter answered. "To think we never get a chance to see it."

"We don't."

"I really don't care," Berlin said. "All I can see is Moscow attacking that moon. I can't wait for the day when he's dead."

"We won't kill him," Peter said. "Under no circumstances will any harm come to him. We may not be revolutionaries, but we're definitely not cold-blooded killers. We have some sense."

"I don't see how you can say that after everything Moscow's doing. He's the only killer I see. And with this new operation? Aren't you doing this as a killer?"

"It's only to get the attention," Peter said. "If people are sacrificed for this, then hopefully, it'll be worth it."

"I hope so," Berlin said. "Especially with this new plan for a new government."

Peter remembered talking about that. It was a part of the new plan for a new Merica. A new government that will forever destroy the monarchy. A government of the people, for the people, and by the people with a new constitution and a new set of laws.

Berlin, for one, was amazed, seconded by Budapest.

"I think the plans for the new government is brilliant," Budapest said. "I just hope it works."

"I hope so, too," Peter said. "Right now, we have to dethrone the king before we can ever think about the new government." He took a look at the structure of the moons from the distance again. "You know, it's strange. Before all this, I was designing and creating buildings with these hands. Now I'm going to destroy my art with these same hands."

"Art?" Berlin asked. "Who cares? It's all about the Russes anyway. Everything in Merica is about the Russes. Why should we care about that?"

Then, there was silence. All three men stood in observance of the same moon and thinking the same thoughts. There were no words exchanged, but all three knew that despite their colors, they were on the same page. All were thinking that Moscow's days as King of Merica was about to come to an end.

"If you excuse me, gentlemen," Peter said. "I have to call someone."

"Who?" Berlin asked.

"My wife."

Peter separated himself from his two friends. Berlin and Budapest looked at each other.

"I didn't know he had a wife," Berlin said.

****

Peter went inside and took out his phone. He dialed a number and left a message. "Krusk, this is Peter. Let it be known that the plan is underway. Prepare to send the bait. I repeat. Prepare to send the bait."

3. ORGANIZATION

Royal ships, at least seven small carriers, were sailing off the coast of Port Demin on the continent of Brooklyn. Being the center of commerce for trade on the seas, Port Demin was home for fishermen and sailors. Moscow's Royal Navy had the best and was good when it came to sea battles. One of Moscow's plans for his military was to improve their navy. Within a couple of years, they were the best ever installed in the entire dynasty.

Suddenly, the Brooklyn fleet was about to face another challenge. They were seeing planes coming their way, but instead of firing off rounds, they ran straight into the ships from the sky and onto the infrastructures of the ships, hitting their targets with regularity.

There were too many planes to count and the Brooklyn Royal Fleet knew that they were facing a losing battle, but still they fought. They were going to go down with their ships, just as disciplined as they trained to be.

The battle lasted for a few hours. By the end, most of the Brooklyn fleet of Port Demin was demolished and sank to the ocean below.

It did not take long for the news to spread about the Port Demin attack. It would become the trademark start for an entirely new initiative in the fight for Merican respect.

All technologies and all communications from the screens to the papers were talking about Port Demin all over Brooklyn. It was unknown to them who issued the attack order specifically, but they knew there could be only one reason why. For that reason, the newspapers overflowed with front-page stories about the attack.

The Port Demin story spread to the other continents, finally heading to Manhattan.

Suddenly, another attack, a suicide bombing at a shopping mall in the center of the city of Sosaria in Queens, erased the story about Port Demin. It was more devastating than the ships near the port. It was at the heart of one of the largest cities in Merica.

Peter St. Petersburg's plan was working like a charm. He decided to capitalize on both these events, making speeches in the streets of all the continents. The media ate it up. He became the center of the media storm, along with more bombings and more speeches. With the media, Peter brought the LORDs into the limelight. Sure enough, it would not be long before the talk of St. Petersburg's plans would reach the Russ Palace itself.

Meanwhile, coming back from a sort of vacation in Staten Island, Moscow and his family return to his seat of power in Manhattan. Before he knew it, his courtiers filled his head with talks of St. Petersburg and the LORD. For days, that was what the talks were all about. The talks had gotten so wide and so deep that Moscow had to ignore the space war around the galaxy and focus on Merica. All he could think about was what he could do to calm the fiasco down, even though he knew what to do. He did not want it, but it had to be done.

In a speech that was heard throughout Merica, Moscow Russ spoke from his throne room in Upper Manhattan in front of the cameras and reporters wanting to know his action.

"Something like this will not continue," Moscow told them. "This group that called themselves Legions of Rebellious Destruction, or LORD, will be taken care of. They will not continue to use their despicable tactics to strike fear and chaos into the true citizens of Merica. I will die before I let that happen. So help the gods above, I will sort this out. Heed this warning. Anyone associated with this group known as LORD or with their leader, Peter St. Petersburg, they will deal with serious consequences from me."

He continued the speech with insults to St. Petersburg's character, calling him a coward for not showing his face to his court and speaking his peace. He hoped to use his people to get to him, but he knew that this was going to be the fight of his life. His family was not safe. The LORD came at the wrong time. Or maybe he did, his court started to think without telling him.

He ordered some of his trusted men to send his wife and children out of Manhattan and back to the island. However, his wife disapproved. She wanted to stay with her husband and send the children instead and put them under heavy guard.

Moscow could not disappoint her, no matter what. So he made up his mind. Samara would stay and the children would go.

In two nights, Moscow's children were far away from the heat of battle. Knowing they were safe, he was prepared to order his army to face the LORD head-on.

****

There were no more riots. There were no more protests. They were only gunfights in cities and towns between the LORD and Moscow's Royal Guard. Many colors were choosing sides.

A war in Merica itself was beginning.

For the next year, in 4011, there was heavy fighting, lots of hiding, lots of orders and commands dished out. By this time, most of the continent of Manhattan was on the side of Moscow, while Brooklyn, Bronx, and Queens were on the side of the LORD.

After their attacks on major cities and monuments, plus a little diplomacy from the small militia gangs that followed, St. Petersburg and the LORD had controlled the three continents. With the control of the continent and absorbing the militias in them, the LORD grew in numbers and status.

As usual, the news was picking up everything. St. Petersburg had found a worthy weapon in them and the two had formed a worthy partnership. Peter was able to get his messages across and the media were getting good Merican stories. He hired personal reporters to talk to about their battles and their plans for the future. His men were not left out. They capitalized on the news as well.

The LORD's main base was in the city of Tiramisu in the Bronx. St. Petersburg and his friends had built a small house there as a meeting place to discuss battle strategies.

With their control, there was one place to go: Manhattan.

He had arranged all the posts. The attacks were going to be led by none other than Berlin Heidrich, who had proven himself in the battlefield against the Royal Guard, as well as Oslo Norway, a blue-skinned ace pilot who was promoted commander of the LORD Air Force. Berlin and Oslo were the most respected of all the soldiers and had complete command of the land forces of LORD. With his determination, it increased the majesty of Peter St. Petersburg. Most figured if Peter did not want to be a leader or if he died suddenly in battle, either Berlin or Oslo was the one who would continue the struggle.

The move to Manhattan happened days after the plans were made. First, the soldiers of LORD were going to sneak into Lower Manhattan as regular citizens. They were going to mingle around, get supplies as well as recruit more Mericans to fight. They got everything that they could, watching out for the Royal Guard, who was patrolling the main cities, especially Brim State, where the LORD mostly settle. Some of the soldiers were going to stay behind Lower Manhattan as the rest were going into Upper Manhattan and into the Twin Montors where the Russ Palace was located. Peter knew that for this to work, they were going have to become Royal Guard soldiers to steal the tanks and other vehicles as well as weapons. Their objective was to attack the palace, but the king was to be taken alive. That was when Oslo's planes from the continents were going to enter the city and unleash the first blow. They knew that they might hit some of the LORD soldiers as well, but Peter told them to consider them not there. That was the only way they could do their mission and succeed.

Within days, the LORD had entered the Twin Montors undiscovered. To the Royal Guard, they were not like any other citizens, except for some in the Royal Guard uniforms. The Twin Montors was peaceful and quiet. Moscow told himself that if that the case and the palace would be under attack, he was going to make sure that the Twin Montors would not be taken into enemy hands.

Moscow had taken every precaution possible. He had Royal Guards around the palace. He had guns stationed on the roof of it and he had an escape plan arranged by Warsaw, his trusted guard, in case they managed to storm the palace.

As the LORD soldiers were staring at the skies, only Peter went to another area of the cities. He remembered talking to a fellow reporter and his cameraman, telling him what to watch out for and whatever he did, he was to keep the camera rolling, making sure that they got every gory detail of the battle. He knew that this was going to be a bloody battle.

Everyone took his or her positions. Organization. The key. They knew what to do. They had that word in their minds at the precise moment.

Then, Ramon Oslo and his ace pilots lit up the ground. Missiles dropped and the streets exploded with fire. Bullets flew from machine gunfire, ripping to shreds anything and anyone in sight. The ones that were not able to escape caught the full barrage. Anyone who was there did not know what was going to happen, but when the planes came, they knew right away who was responsible. They took cover, but there were so many people taken by surprise that there was nowhere to run without someone being run over. Even some of the Russ Royal Guard were thrown for a loop.

Right away, the brigade took advantage. They took out their guards and started firing, with Berlin leading the charge. Being a sharpshooter in his own right, he was shooting Royal Guards left and right. At the same time, though, he was shooting innocent bystanders. All that was going through his mind was when he reached the gates to go after the king.

Then came the tanks. Like the planes, they came out of nowhere, but they were on the roads of the cities, crushing cars and human flesh if they were in the way. With that came more explosions. The planes came by again, firing their guns, trying their best not to shoot their own. Screams were heard but were drowned out by gunfire.

It was a gunfight on the streets of the Twin Montors.

The LORD militia was at the Russ Palace, but this was a hard feat. There were more Royal Guards inside the palace than on the streets. More gunfire from the planes crippled the top of the roofs, but it did not help the situation. They had to deal with this as an army. They took cover among the crackled buildings that continued to tear apart and fall to the ground.

Berlin was still relentless, thinking on his feet. He took complete command, as Peter's squad was nowhere to be found. More men from LORD came and joined the rest of the band at the perimeter of the palace.

There was no running or movement, except for the guns. They were picking targets. Some of the Royal Guards were falling, but some of the LORD soldiers were falling as well. As they took out Royal Guards, they moved for the first time closer to the palace.

The firing continued. Some citizens, who at one point were trying to stay out of the way, picked up some guns and joined the LORD's barrage. Some LORD soldiers, including Berlin, became more confident. Was it that they were joining the fight because they wanted the same thing they did or was it that they were looking for a fight and they joined because they were winning? Whatever the reasons, the extra numbers started crushing the Royal Guards.

After three hours of fighting, the LORD militias found an opening. They ran with the force of wild horses and rammed into the palace doors. The LORD was coming through and no force could stop them.

****

Meanwhile, in the palace, Moscow Russ knew what was happening. He was in his office with Alexandria worrying with every shot fired. Moscow kept his cool, for his wife's sake.

Then, Warsaw burst through the door.

"We have to get out of here," he said.

Moscow got up without a word and with his wife, followed Warsaw out of the office and around the palace. They were going to the secret door. The secret door led to a special escape corridor, leading to the sewer.

Leading the way, Warsaw could remember building this passageway. It was a different time then. But he knew that this was going to be the end, no matter what happened.

Entering the sewer, the stench hit the Russes immediately. Warsaw charged forward along with the royal couple holding each other's hands very tight. Explosions could be heard from above, rocking the foundations. Moscow knew that his continent had been taken over completely by the soldiers of the LORD.

Suddenly, Warsaw stopped. Footsteps were heard.

"Who's there?" he said.

The footsteps were getting louder and closer. Then, from the shadow and small light, the first sign of feet. Then came some legs and arms. The face did not show itself. Warsaw froze. The Russes took small steps back.

Then came a gunshot. Warsaw fell against the wall of the large sewer and fell back. Moscow was going to run, but then, a shout came out.

"Don't move!"

Moscow stopped. His wife was breathing hard. By this time, his face showed itself.

It was Peter, walking near Warsaw's body. Peter went to his back, took out a gun and put it in Warsaw's hands. Then, Warsaw sprang up and smiled at Peter. Moscow did not know what to think of this. He saw Warsaw get shot.

"Well done, Krusk," Peter said. "You did well."

"Thank you, St. Petersburg," Warsaw said.

Peter turned his attention back to the royal couple. Moscow stood in front of his wife.

"Don't worry," Peter said. "If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you already? You're prisoners in the name of the new government. Do anything to escape, I will kill you. But I think you're too honorable to do that. You would die for this place. Well, so would I. Let's go."

Krusk Warsaw smiled at his new leader St. Petersburg. Then, he took the walk with him with a cuffed Moscow and Samara leading the way back.

When they got to the surface, Peter and Warsaw could see that their men were inside the palace looting it for whatever they had left. Paintings were being torn from the walls. Exquisite crystal was crushed. The crowd grew in massive numbers as Peter observed the extra people along with his own men.

When one of the men saw Peter with the king and queen, he patted another one on the back to take a look. Then, everyone turned to see Peter with the king and queen as prisoners.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he shouted. "We have taken Manhattan!"

Everyone cheered to the top of his or her lungs. Peter raised his fists in the air. After a devastating battle that ended in so many lives lost, the LORD had won. They had complete control of the Russ Palace. He would not soak up all the victory. In fact, he would not take in any. He knew that it went to the soldiers and the people's will that won the day. Peter thought that this was a day that would go down in history.

As they were cheering, Warsaw whispered in Peter's ear.

"There's still the deal with his children," he said.

"Where are they?" Peter whispered to him.

"They're at a special location. Near Aliahan Village in Staten Island."

"After we deal with this, find them and bring them here."

Warsaw left right away without notice except for Peter. His attention went back to the cheering. By this time, they were shooting their guns with joy putting holes in the roof.

Within a few hours, a royal dynasty and a centuries-old ideal were dead.

The royalty of all Merica was dead.

It was the birth of a new, urban Merica with Peter St. Petersburg and the army of the LORD leading the way.
4. NEW ORDER

When Peter went into the streets, he realized the damage he caused, thinking as an architect. He saw the blood in the streets. He saw the dead bodies. Despite the victory, he could not help but feel for his surroundings. He did not think that the madness could escalate to the level that it did. As everyone was cheering and continued their post-looting and post-destruction of anything that reminded everyone of the Russ dynasty, all Peter saw was that with their victory, changes had to be made. The architect of the LORD, the architect of this Merican war; the architect of the fighting soul, had to become the architect of a new ideal.

Months passed and the Twin Montors was cleaning itself up, but Peter St. Petersburg, who had taken post in the old Russ Palace, knew that it was going to take more than hands to rebuild the cities as well as other places the LORD had caused damage. The former King and Queen of Merica were taken to one of Moscow's prisons in the city.

Warsaw went to get the children, who had no idea about the LORD's takeover, and brought them to Manhattan, sending them to the same prison their parents were so they could be together.

The first order of business was there had to be a new government. For now, Peter would use the hierarchy of the officers and soldiers of LORD as a basis for a political council and the massive, but nearly destroyed palace would be their place for debates. All of the soldiers knew that there had to be order, but most of them were soldiers, not intellectuals like Peter. So most of the decisions had to fall under Peter's shoulder.

Peter called in his council together one day. He was the leading body. Zuran Prague and Adam Budapest were counselors. Berlin Heidrich, the hero of the Twin Montors, kept his position as the executioner of orders. He had taken in three men to help him out; fellow soldiers who were leading bodies in his army: Santiago Ortega, Palermo Carrano, and Monte Carlo Drayer. Everyone else was a voting body in case a choice had to be made.

Peter told them that they had to deal with two things. One was to find more supporters of Royal Guards or others trying to put the king back on the throne. The other deal was how to rebuild the Twin Montors. Everyone agreed that the Twin Montors had to be rebuild, but it was a different story over the king. Some of them wanted him executed while some wanted to keep him in prison and let him and his family rot for the rest of their lives.

Peter closed the issue for the moment, telling them, "For now, we focused on reconstruction. Until we come to a complete decision, no one is to talk about this with anyone."

****

For the rest of 4011, Peter St. Petersburg show all of Merica how much of a good man he was by putting his architect skills to the test. He had plenty of help from the people of Manhattan, getting any supplies that they needed. And the media were there to get the story. One of Peter's special reporters, Seoul Sine, had gotten great coverage of the reconstruction of Manhattan. In fact, he furthered the cause by giving a special interview for all of Merica to see, discussing the final battle for the Moscow Palace and their plans for the future. Seoul Sine's job was to make sure that it had gotten to every part of Merica.

"What are your plans for Merica, now that the king has been overthrown?" Seoul asked.

Peter responded, "We plan to establish a new government. A new government with the people, by the people and for the people. We're going to establish laws. We're going to establish rights. We're going to establish a constitution. We're going to make this new order completely different from the monarchy. We're not going to rob Merica of riches earned by the hard workers of Merica. We're going to make sure every citizen of Merica gets a fair share."

"And what would be the fate of the former king and queen?"

Peter took his time to answer. Finally, he said, "No comment!"

"And for the group known as LORD. What would become of it?"

"The LORD would be disbanded for the sake of the new government that we're establishing. The people will see that we're not cold-blooded killers. We do have hearts."

Millions of people of all colors saw the broadcast. Peter was a shining light for the people. He knew the right words to say and no one could voice their opinion or debate that Peter did not know what he was talking about.

He had all of Merica by the earful.

****

In spite of Peter's words in the interview, there was some small turmoil among the group. They knew that they had to make a new type of government, but it was going to take a while to make it solid. There were still too many memories of Merican monarchy. Peter acknowledged he had to make a decision about the king and fast.

He took some time off of a hectic schedule to deal with the former king for one last moment.

He visited him in his secret jail cell only a select few knew.

When Peter saw the king for the first time since he caught him and his wife escaping, he saw a defeated and drained old man sitting on the floor without a care in the world. The royal light was not shinning on Moscow. He was just another ordinary Merican once full of promise.

For the first few seconds, there was a staredown, but it was Moscow who broke the contact.

"What do you want?" he asked. "You should be happy."

"I should," Peter said. "But I'm not."

"Why is that? You won. You and your rebels won."

"Rebels?" Peter cleared his throat. "Alright, fine. I'll give you that one. In a sense, we are rebels, but only because you made us that way. I just have one question for you. Why the war in space? What was the purpose? You had all of Merican in your grasp thanks to your family name, yet you wanted to rule the five moons as well. Why is that so? Was there something special about them? Something you wanted to possess?"

Moscow said nothing.

"Nothing? You have nothing to say after all this time? After all the insults?"

"What's the use? Your friend is probably going to kill me anyway. I'm sure he told you."

"What are you talking about? Told you what?"

"Someone's already coming down on me about this. However, he came with a gun to my head. I'm sure he's someone close to you."

"Who is he?" Peter asked curiously.

"I think his name is Berlin, or at least that what it said on his uniform."

Peter was silent. He was thinking of what Berlin could have done. The thought was scary. Berlin was one to lose control at times. Plus, he had the loyalty of the LORD army and he was a restless soldier. Peter knew that Berlin could get people to follow him just by lashing out.

"He won't kill you," he said. "Trust me. If he was, he would have done it already."

"What makes you think he won't do it? Just because you trust him? Just because he fought for you? I thought I trusted all of my people, but I was wrong. How long do you think it'll be before they betray you?"

"I won't make the same mistakes that you did," Peter said in defense. "I care about my people. You didn't."

Moscow laughed. He brought himself up slowly. "Power corrupts, my friend," he said. "Remember that if you don't take anything else I say."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He walked away without a goodbye. Despite gaining a small taste of victory by confronting him, Moscow did give him something to think about.

How well did he trust his men?

They were of different color clans. Anything could happen. All he knew was that he had to talk to Berlin. Only then will all his fears either be realized or ceased.

****

Peter met up with Berlin after the visit with Moscow. They were in Moscow's old royal library, away from the activity in the cities.

"He said what?" Berlin lashed out when Peter told him about Moscow. "He said I tried to kill him?"

"Did you?" Peter asked.

Berlin paced around. "What if I did? I have to wonder why we're still keeping him in the prison. Why don't we just kill him now? The more we keep him alive, the more his loyalists would use it to their advantage to rise up and formed a rebellion against us. I say we finished this."

"We have to think this through."

"Think what through?" Berlin shouted. "What's there to think about? We get him in front of everyone, kill him and make sure everyone sees it."

Peter went to his friend and gently touched his face with both hands. "And what would that prove? Simple. That we're nothing but killers. All of this would be for nothing. Besides, why make him a martyr?"

Berlin took a deep breath as Peter smiled.

"Alright, fine," Berlin said. "I'll leave him alone. Besides, we got bigger things to deal with."

"It's good that you mention that. I'm going to make an announcement tomorrow. It's about a new constitution that I conjured up."

"Wait a second! You've written a constitution?"

"It's like I told you. We're more than just revolutionaries. This is more than LORD. We're going to a whole new level. And as a fellow comrade of mine, I'll make sure that you're taken care of. I'll make sure we all are." Peter touched Berlin's face again. "We did it, comrade. We made it!"

The two hugged each other as if they were blood brothers. With another pat on the back, Berlin left with a smile on his face.

****

As the days passed, Peter's plans were underway.

A new constitution was written, issued, and signed by all of the LORD Officers. Peter was in good spirits. He was so liberated by this new position as leader of Manhattan and all of Merica that he expressed it to the people on the streets. Parades of people flocked to him whenever he was around. Peter was surprised that the reconstruction of Twin Montors, at the center of Upper Manhattan, was close to completion. The determination and the notion of a new age for Merica impacted all areas of life around them.

Peter made sure that Mericans continue to love him. It was all he needed to do the things he needed to do to be the leader the LORD asked for.

To the people, he was given a new name: the Re-constructor of Merica.

In a way, he was a god; a god-king treated with the utmost respect. By the time the new constitution was issued and by the time the government was almost complete, he was near the worship stage from his people.

****

Moscow was relaxing in his cell. It was all he could do to not lose his mind completely since he was not near his wife or his children.

He had lost everything. All he had was time; time before they finally decided to kill him.

It was nighttime in his cell, like every other hour that goes by. He did not care anymore.

Then, he heard footsteps. When Moscow turned to see who it was, he turned and found out that it was a shadow in a human form. He was wearing what looked like a trench coat to Moscow.

Moscow got up and stood like a soldier.

"I was waiting for you," he said.

The stranger said nothing and made a move. Still, Moscow stood still.

Suddenly, the sound was made. It was no more than one of the rats crawling on the floors of the prison. It moved Moscow off his feet and sliding down the walls. He walked away like he came, like a shadow.

****

Peter received a disturbing call from his office in the now St. Petersburg Mansion. He had to make a trip to the city of Cassavas in Lower Manhattan to meet up with Krusk Warsaw, who was there for reconnaissance of the city. He made it on one of Moscow's former private planes. Soldiers of LORD, throughout the entire time he was there, guarded him heavily.

No one was to be trusted around him.

When he arrived at the city, where he was greeted, he did not waste any time and went immediately to Warsaw. He did not give a warm greeting, only a dismal look. Peter knew something happened, thinking only the worse. He knew that at this time, he was going to be tested as a leader.

He was taken deep into the forest, where he saw a disturbing sight. It was a deep hole and there were dead bodies at the bottom.

Sure enough, he nearly vomited when he saw it.

"Is that...?"

Warsaw nodded. Peter went closer. It became completely clear of their identities.

It was the entire Moscow royal family.

Moscow, Samara, and all five of the children.

All of them full of holes with their splattered blood on the ground. From the look of it, Warsaw told him that they were taken to the deep forest and were riddled with bullets by unknowns.

"Children," Peter said to himself. "Why the children? It's bad enough they killed Moscow. But why the children?"

Then, he turned his attention back to Warsaw.

"How long were they down there?" Peter asked.

"A few days from what I can tell," Warsaw said. "I'm thinking it's a potential enemy."

"That's the problem with potential enemies," Peter said. "Anybody could be one."

"Who do you think it is?"

Peter had to think. It could have been anyone.

Then, something clicked in his head. There was only one person he could think of, and it was the worst suggestion.

"Get these bodies out of the hole and preserved their bodies. When the chance comes, we'll give them a proper burial. I have to go back. I have to talk to someone."

****

Peter took Berlin back to the library. This time, there was no peaceful talk. Peter launched at him right away. He grabbed him by his collar and pushed him against the bookshelves.

"What were you thinking?" he asked angrily. "Didn't I tell you not to harm them?"

"What are you talking about?" Berlin stressed.

"They're dead."

"Who?"

"Moscow. His entire family. They're all dead, down a hole in Cassavas. It's bad enough you wanted Moscow dead, but you had to kill the children as well. What was the reason for that?"

"I didn't go near him. After you told me not to mess with him, I didn't."

Peter let him go and covered his face. Berlin straightened out his uniform.

"Even if I didn't do it," he said. "What are you so worried about? This is what we wanted, right? We wanted him dead. Now he is. With Moscow dead, no one would even think of coming after us."

"For your sake, I hope not."

"And if someone does, we get rid of them."

"Leave me alone, Berlin," Peter ordered. "We'll deal with this later."

Berlin left quietly. Peter went to a table and put his head down. He did not know what to say.

Did Berlin really kill the royal family to spite him? If he did, what could he do? Something in him knew that in one way or another, he would issue the order for Moscow to die. However, he wanted a public execution of the former king himself, not a massacre of the family. He was still looking for the honor of all they had done, but he realized that there was no such thing. The notion was a fable, and it was his fault that was so.

All he could remember of Moscow was some of the words he had told Peter when he met him.

Power corrupts.

In thinking about this, from that point forward, Peter St. Petersburg had to watch his closest comrade Berlin Heidrich very carefully.
5. NEW AVENUE

Ten years have passed since the fall of the Moscow dynasty and the rise of St. Petersburg's socialist government.

The year was M.E. 4022.

So far, there had been challenges for Peter.

For the first five years, it dealt with testing the new governmental apparatus, dealing with a latent rebel army still loyal to the king, cutting ties with the other continents, and growing into the role of leader to include making decisions for the betterment of Merica.

Being in his thirties, he was getting used to the power. He made Manhattan the center of Merica again, but he wanted to make sure the rest of the continents were not left out.

His comrades were changing as well, growing older, but still had the youthfulness of rebellion thanks to Peter. Some of the main former officers had families and settled on taking care of them.

However, Peter was married to Merica. That was the only wife he wanted or needed. Some thought this was crazy and that he should settle down before he lost his mind. Peter was more in control of his surroundings than during the start of the socialist government.

He put barons and ambassadors in the other four continents: Zuran Prague was sent to Queens; Adam Budapest to Brooklyn; Ramon Oslo settled with his family in Staten Island. Peter had three main figures of the former LORD stayed in Manhattan. Krusk Warsaw became his right-hand man and possible successor in case something happened to him. A blue Merican named Ijan Belgrade was also picked as a possible successor in case something happened to Krusk. For now, he was chief of a new police force in Manhattan known as the Sniper Brigade.

Then, there was the hero of LORD, former general Berlin Heidrich, who settled and took control of Lower Manhattan.

Everything was changing. Peter could not stop it, but he could continue to monitor all of Merica.

That became his main goal for the next five years if he was successful in the first five. It was about settling into his new position, in Merican politics and in life itself. Anything that reminded him of the Moscow dynasty was entirely destroyed. Even the thought of the unnecessary death of the royal children was forgotten.

Peter could remember for the first time ever in his office, he was seeing the landscape of Merica. In looking at maps and globes, he wanted to remind himself of where these places were and what they were all about. So far in the ten years of the government, the closest continent bond he made was with Brooklyn, southeast to Manhattan and the second largest continent next to Manhattan. If there was a continent he could shape up to match Manhattan, it was Brooklyn. He remembered going there a couple of times and found it illuminating. Bronx and Queens were to the north and northeast of Brooklyn respectively and were just as rich, but it was more of last resorts compared to the splendor of Brooklyn and Manhattan. Staten Island was isolated from the other four continents and mostly ignored. Moscow saw it as a paradise resort. Peter saw it as just a strip of land collecting space.

During the first five years, Peter was given the ultimate test of his leadership when a secret army emerged from Brooklyn called the "Black and White Army." They were said to be loyal soldiers of the former king and dynasty, but Peter saw them as nothing more than opportunists. With the help of the established Manhattan army, they were able to go into Brooklyn and handled the situation with extreme ease. As many as three hundred Black and White Army soldiers were arrested, tried in the Manhattan courts, and were executed in front of the people by the Sniper Brigade. For the first time since the Merican War, Mericans witnessed Peter's ruthlessness at work. His fiery course to take on this secret army was the stuff of legends.

His victory over them made him more of a god to Mericans than ever before.

After the Black and White Army was disbanded, there was no one else trying to fight St. Petersburg's government. With that, Merica had achieved peace.

****

Far away from his heroic days and the days of the start of the new government, Berlin Heidrich had achieved newfound respect in Lower Manhattan. Some criticized it. Part of the reason was because of his unorthodox methods of monitoring his part of Merica. They were so unorthodox that people wondered how he became so respected in the Merican War in the first place.

Berlin dealt with Lower Manhattan more like a street gangster than a law-abiding chief. It was more evident in his home base in Cassavas, the largest city in Lower Manhattan and the third largest in the entire continent.

One incident was when the emergence of the Black and White Army came. Berlin went through a paranoiac state suddenly. He started suspecting people in Lower Manhattan of siding with the army. It ended up becoming a sort of inquisition. He and his band of men, known as the Berliners, interrogated likely suspects.

Some were let go based on no evidence. Others were not so lucky. Most ended up dead and buried in secret places. If they had families, their items were compensated and given to Berlin as a tribute.

Matters turned worse when a new woman came into Berlin's life: Orange female Vienna Salzburg, one of the most seductive exotic dancers and prostitutes in Lower Manhattan. Berlin met her on one of her performance tours. She was at a bachelor's party hosted by Berlin himself. He was hooked at first glance at her hips. It was lust more than love, but it hit him hard. There were many women at the party, but there was something about Vienna that struck a chord in his brain. He asked her out on a date, made love on that first date, and a few days later, they were married.

The newspapers made a big spectacle out of it, bringing Peter into the picture. Despite the disgust from his comrade, Berlin kept Vienna by his side.

What Berlin found in her was someone who understood him better than he thought. This was proven when Berlin put her in a high position in his organization. Any decision she made was seen as if Berlin issued it. She even had a wild side when it came to guns. She was quick to use whenever she thought someone did her or her husband wrong.

One example was when an opponent of Berlin tried to take control of Cassavas. Vienna handled the situation by giving him a private dance to relax him and stabbing him with a knife when he went to sleep.

Berlin and Vienna together were a lethal combination, a possible threat if provoked. They kept control of Lower Manhattan without any opponents or interference from anyone.

There was one thing that the couple had disagreements about.

Peter's claim over Merica.

Berlin respected him, despite what Peter thought of his actions. Peter did not think Berlin was representing him well enough. Vienna knew about this and stressed it to him every time the issue came up.

One day, Berlin read a book that dealt with Peter and the Merican War that came out a year ago and started circulating presently, celebrating Peter as a hero of LORD and symbol of the people. Upon seeing Berlin engaged in the book, the first question that came out of Vienna's mouth was, "Why don't you have a book out right now? You were more of a hero than Peter was. What did he do? Just got the credit because he stood in front."

"Why are you starting something, Vienna?" Berlin asked.

"I was just wondering why you didn't have a book or was on the front page of some newspaper. Why aren't you trying to fight for a better position in the government? He made Warsaw an heir and not you?"

Berlin nearly fought her when she spoke it. She did not like Peter, which was obvious to Berlin.

Most times he would just ignore it and go into his office and Vienna did not follow him.

However, with this particular argument, he could not stop thinking about it. Vienna's questions swam more and more around his head with everything he tried to do in the days after.

Before long, Berlin began asking himself why he was not taking a more active role in the new political regime.

The questions plagued him so much that he went out drinking and came home one night nearly unconscious and slouching in his chair. Vienna returned from work to their penthouse, opened his office door, and found him half-dead.

She went to him slowly. There, she saw a pistol in his hand. She was being careful because Berlin was likely to snap when drunk. Luckily, she was able to get it from his head and Vienna left him to sleep it off, knowing that more days like this were coming.

****

Berlin went away from his penthouse for a time after another one of his and Vienna's arguments. He went to see Peter in Upper Manhattan, who summoned him about his actions and reputation. The two men, friends for the same cause, were arguing and getting into each other's face about their ethics.

Peter should have known better. Berlin was a soldier and not as smart as Peter. That alone was enough to be at odds with him. Plus, there was a difference in skin tone. Even though there was no complete disunion going on after the death of Moscow, it was still in the mind. Peter came from a clan that was seen as leaders and intellectuals, while Berlin's clan was seen as dangerous and bloodthirsty.

This ended with him in the same scenario he entered: drunk out of his mind and close to death in his office with a wine bottle in one hand and a pistol in the other.

Like before, Vienna found him in that position, took the gun gently from his hand and placed it on the counter near her.

She went on her knees and rubbed Berlin's forehead. Berlin opened his eyes slightly. He saw her face and grinned. But the wine bottle was still in his hand. He raised it up gradually and drank a sip of it.

"Are you okay?" Vienna asked softly.

Berlin's mouth widened. "Damn Peter St. Petersburg!"

"What did he do now?" Vienna asked.

"What does he always do? Finds my faults. Tells me that I'm destroying the dream we fought for because of my actions. He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand what I'm doing here."

"And he never will," Vienna agreed.

Berlin took a look at his wife. "What are you talking about?"

"Listen to me," Vienna said. "I think that you're looking for something that will never be. And I think it's time you get that through your head."

"What are you saying?"

Vienna cleared her throat. "How long have you been Peter's friend?"

"Since forever."

"And has he ever gave you a compliment about your heroics?"

"I didn't want one."

"It doesn't matter. Do you know what I think? I think that he believes that you have more potential than he could ever hope for. Why else would he send you to this part of the continent where all the lowlifes are? You should be in the high-rises like he is, not suffering a drunken fate here. You're more than that. Peter sees that. That's why he wants to make sure you stay where you are and never move an inch. So he continues to shoot you down for every mistake you make and just like a dog, you try to do better. Is it worth it? Is it really worth it?"

"And what do you want me to do about it? It isn't like I'm asking for anything."

"Really? Is that so? How many times have I seen you come home so frustrated that you want to kill yourself just like you're doing now?"

Berlin said nothing. She was right. He was frustrated with being here and wished he was among the elite with Peter.

"Has he changed his successor?" Vienna asked.

Berlin said nothing, but Vienna saw through his mind. When he took another drink, it was clear. He was not even nominated.

"He's still going with either Warsaw or Belgrade," Berlin answered.

"What a shame!" Vienna said.

"I've put in work for the LORD. You would figure he would reconsider."

"But it's like I said. He doesn't trust you. I'm even hearing rumor in the streets that Peter called you the red devil. Only know carnage and nothing more."

"What am I going to do? I don't know how much longer I can take this."

"There's only one thing you can do."

"And what's that?"

Vienna leaned in his ear and whispered. Berlin gave her a distraught look.

"You must be kidding. Are you serious?"

"That's what you have to do. Be more of the person that Peter wants you to be. Then, you'll see for yourself. If Peter looked at you the same way, then we take drastic action. If not, then it doesn't matter."

"And what are you hoping for?"

Vienna put her hands on his shoulders, spread her legs and sat on his lap. "I'm hoping that my husband gets everything he's expected to get. That's all I ever wanted."

Berlin caressed her face. "What would I do without you?"

"Probably the same answer I have if I didn't have you in my life."

They shared a passionate kiss. Despite the wine on his lips, he was still able to give Vienna the most passionate kisses in him. The two shared a night of lovemaking, which for a few minutes kept his mind off of Peter until another time. Vienna knew how to tame the beast within him.

When they were done and with a better, energetic mind, Berlin made a call to a contact in Brooklyn on his home phone.

"I'm coming to see you. There are some things we need to discuss."

****

Brooklyn was the most glamorous continent next to Manhattan in Merica. It was always a centerpiece to Russ Dynasty and unlike the other continents, some of the glamorous buildings that the dynasty gave the continent remained intact.

Plus, it had the best jobs.

The ambassador for Brooklyn's political affairs, Adam Budapest, made sure that everyone fell in line with Peter's vision. One of Adam Budapest's main roles to appoint a prefect over the continent. Playing kingmaker, he made sure that the right person was doing his duty monitoring the continent and continued to show their loyalty to Peter St. Petersburg. With Adam's help, Brooklyn was under control and at the same time, he was making St. Petersburg's image greater than ever.

There were more statues and posters of St. Petersburg in Brooklyn than there ever was for Moscow.

It was in the new state of Brooklyn that Berlin Heidrich entered into the industrial sector of Devadas and to the home of a personal soldier and friend named Santiago Ortega, who lived with his wife and two sons.

It had been a while since Berlin had seen him. Santiago was sixteen when he first joined Berlin in the Merican War. Presently at twenty-six, Santiago is settled into a nice apartment, living happily with his teenage sweetheart, Madrid Raina, and their sons San Salvador and San Juan.

When he arrived at the Ortega apartment, he was greeted with the greatest warmth. Santiago was ever accommodating with his former leader. They ate a great dinner, had wine and conversed about life for both of them. Berlin told about his leadership in Lower Manhattan as St. Petersburg took over Upper Manhattan. Ortega told him about his time in construction. Berlin could tell that he was bothered by something; something in his own spectrum.

Then, the time came when Santiago left his wife for a while and followed Berlin to a secret place in the neighborhood. Berlin went in disguise so no one would notice him.

"There's something I want to discuss with you," Berlin said.

"I could tell you didn't come here for my great manners and company. What's bothering you?" Santiago asked. "Is there something I can do?"

"Not necessarily. Well, at least not yet. But it's something important I have to talk with you about. It's about Peter."

"What wrong with him? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. It's just that... well..." Berlin took his time. It was harder than he thought. "Well...let me ask you. What do you think of Peter as a leader?"

"He's doing okay with himself," Santiago said. "The people look up to him. What can I say? He did what he said he was going to do. Why you ask?"

"Well, it's a concern of mine. You see, I think it's time that he gives someone a chance to become a leader. That's why...I'm going to request an election."

"An election? With Peter?"

Santiago was confused, but it was because he did not know what Berlin was trying to do. He knew from the news that there was some possible tension between the two, but he did not know how much.

"Peter's been the leader of this planet for almost eleven years now," Berlin said. "I think it's time for him to step down and give someone else a chance."

"What is this really about?" The cool-headed Santiago asked. "Is it about the rumors I've been hearing about you there?"

"What rumors?" Berlin asked in a sort of paranoid state.

"Just that Peter was trying to tell you how to deal with your part of Manhattan. Believe me. I have nothing to do with what you're doing, but it's just a wonder. Nothing more."

"Well, forget the rumors. I'm going through with this because I feel strongly about this. This is supposed to be about the people. So we'll let the people decide what's right. And if it becomes the case that there's an election, I'm wondering would you support my campaign?"

"You have me and my family's support in anything you do," Santiago said sincerely.

Berlin patted him on the shoulder in triumph. "Good!" he said. "Now, I'm going to have to call Warsaw and tell him to give the message to Peter. Then, I'll let you know when I want you to step in."

"I'll wait for the call," Santiago agreed.

****

"He wants what?" Peter bellowed at Warsaw in the office in his palace.

"He wants an election," Warsaw said.

Warsaw did not want to run into this, but it could not be helped. He had to give the message that he was supposed to give from Berlin. He talked with Berlin a few days after Berlin's visit to Brooklyn. Warsaw could not believe his ears when Berlin asked about a possible election.

Peter laughed harshly at the fact. "Where did all this come from?"

"I don't know," Warsaw said.

"Well, why couldn't he tell me this himself?"

"I don't know," Warsaw said. "I was just the messenger."

"Election? What kind of game is he playing?"

"Believe me. When I was talking to him, he wasn't playing. He was dead serious. I ask him why he wanted it. He says that there was something he had to prove."

"Prove? What's there to prove?"

"My guess is, he's bothered by the remarks he was given about Lower Manhattan. Among other things."

"What other things?"

Warsaw cleared his throat before he gave his answer. "Well, he told me that you've been the leader for ten years and he feels your time is up and that you're getting old and that you should give someone else a chance and he wants the people to decide since the people are what it's all about."

Another laugh came from Peter. Warsaw's hands shook as he tried to keep his composure.

"What do you want me to tell him?" Warsaw asked.

"Tell him?" Peter said. "Simple. No! No election. Not now. Not ever. I'm not old and I'm not ready to step down, nor will I ever until the people get everything they want. The people of Merica need me. Without me they're nothing. And tell Berlin that the next time he wants to give me a message, tell him to come himself or keep his mouth SHUT!"

Warsaw saw the intensity in his leader's eyes; something he had never seen before from Peter. There was something inside him that was changing. He could not put his finger on it, but all Warsaw knew was that the last time he had seen something like that, it was in the Merican War.

****

After his awkward conversation with his leader, Warsaw went to visit Lower Manhattan and to Berlin's headquarters. Once there, he could see the differences right away. While St. Petersburg was living the life of luxury in Upper Manhattan, Berlin was living in poverty's paradise with roaches crawling in an unkempt penthouse.

Still, he had to tell him, knowing Berlin had a quick temper and could snap at any minute, especially if alcohol was in his system. Warsaw relayed Peter's message to Berlin and just as he suspected, Berlin went ballistic.

He pushed Warsaw against the wall and put a gun to his head. Warsaw sweated immediately and his hands shook wildly.

"He thought it was a joke?" Berlin asked with the gun nicely placed on Warsaw's temple.

"He didn't say those words," Warsaw said, "but that was what I got from it. He doesn't want to step down. He said there won't be an election, so there's no use trying to get one started."

Berlin's gun hand was shaking. Then, he took the gun away and placed it on the desk of his office. He went to sit down in his chair as Warsaw caught his breath.

"He's living the life of luxury at our expense," Berlin said. "He talks about how I'm not a good leader, yet he feels that Merica is nothing without him."

"It's weird that he would say that," Warsaw said. "I've never seen Peter act like that before. He almost...acted like Moscow when he said that."

The sound of his name gave another thought to Berlin.

What if Peter was turning into another Moscow?

If this was the case, then no talk or election in the world was going to change. He had the people. The key was the people. Berlin rattled his brain to figure something out. Warsaw relaxed in a chair, thinking of his own safety.

"What are you going to do now?" Warsaw asked.

"I don't know," Berlin said. "What can I do? He can't be talked to. And if for some reason there can't be an election, then I don't know what I can do. There's only one way this can happen now."

"What's that?"

A stare down occurred. Berlin was grinning. Warsaw knew right away.

"You can't do that," Warsaw said.

"Why not?" Berlin asked. "If there isn't any other way, what else is there? He won't step down."

"Why do you want him to step down so badly? He's a good leader. You're benefiting from it. We all are."

"No! You're benefiting from it. You're with him at the palace. He sent me here with the filth."

"But you seem happy here."

Berlin grabbed his gun quickly and shot the wall close to Warsaw's head.

"Do you think I'm happy here?" he asked angrily. "Then, obviously, you haven't been living him for ten years. I have to worry about someone wanting to kill me every chance they get. And with everyone strung out on this new drug out there, there's no way I can control it."

"What drug?"

Berlin poured himself a drink from his wine stash. "You haven't heard? Some new spice or herb is spreading all over this place. I don't know who's supplying it, but someone's getting rich off of it and is more in power than I am. While Peter's having a good time playing king, I'm suffering with no support from him. No wonder I had to take the actions I did."

Warsaw was offered a glass of green liquor and he took it hesitantly. "I thought that was just about the Black and White Army?"

"That was the only one recorded. There were worse problems. But that doesn't matter. Let Peter know how I'm feeling. I'm sure if he takes that into consideration, he'll reconsider."

"If he doesn't?"

That was not a question that needed an answer because Warsaw knew the answer from Berlin's dilated eyes. If it did not work, his two great friends were going to war. Warsaw had to find a way to make sure there was not another Merican War.

He did not even bother to bring to his attention the possible top spot offered to him in case Peter died or retired.

Warsaw was going to be busy for the next few days. He was in between two large trains that were getting ready to collide at full speed into each other.

6. THE DEAL

Santiago Ortega was having a nice, romantic dinner with his wife Madrid at a restaurant in Devadas when he received a mysterious call from a longtime comrade: a green-skinned army comrade named Monte Carlo.

"Meet me in Queens," Monte told him. "We need to talk."

Another romantic dinner was ruined.

Tensions between Santiago and Madrid grew to the point Santiago stayed away for days on end. Madrid being pregnant with their third child did not make matters any better. Monte Carlo's call was the saving grace he needed to escape wanting to kill his wife out of frustration of mounting problems.

Santiago hoped that the Merican War as it was called was going to give him another chance at a new life. That was not to be. Since then, despite their strong loyalty to the LORD, he and his family were facing troublesome times.

Taking the trip to the continent of Queens paid for by Monte Carlo himself, all Santiago could think of was his family's condition. His life was worse than before he became a soldier. His parents died when he was young; his father when he was seven and his mother when he joined the LORD. He and his two other teenage friends, Carlo and Palermo Carrano met each other while fighting in the army led by Berlin Heidrich and became quick friends. A year after the Merican War, they had promised to keep in contact with each other. Like Santiago, they had gone back to their dreadful existence.

After five years, around the time of a new glory of Peter St. Petersburg, they had stopped contact completely.

Until the call.

By how Monte Carlo was talking on the phone the night of his romantic dinner, he knew that it was important.

However, he did not know how important.

****

The plane landed in an airport. Then, a car picked him up and took him to the province of the ghettos of Long Island Row. From the look and smell of it, Santiago thought Long Island Row was no different than where he lived.

Then again, Queens itself was not that rich, not like the lively and noisy Brooklyn.

Queens were more serene and quiet.

The car ended at a remote place near a park called Forest Park. Monte Carlo came from the distance and to the car, wearing a smart-looking suit, making Santiago embarrassed with his regular working clothes. He came out and the two shook hands. Then, Palermo Carrano came out from nowhere and joined the two men.

The former threesome was together again.

They went deep into the park and into the sparkling forest with diamond leaves; which most called the richest place in Queens. Santiago was amazed at their meeting place as Monte Carlo just strolled around in what he called his thinking place.

"What is this about?" Santiago asked. "And what's Palermo doing here?"

"I called him here just like I did for you," Carlo said. "This is business. And I couldn't find a better place to talk than here."

"You said it was urgent."

"It is."

The three stopped in the sparkling center of the forest.

"Alright, here's the thing," Carlo said. "I'm telling you guys this because I can trust you not to say anything. I've found some information. It has to do with the war."

"The Merican War?" Palermo asked.

No!" Carlo said. "The Eve of Moons War."

"The one Moscow wanted to fight?"

"What about it?" Santiago said impatiently.

"Well, I found out the reason why that war happened," Carlo said. "That's also the reason I called you guys here. No one else knows about this and whoever else knew are probably dead."

"Out with it," Santiago said.

"Space colonies."

Palermo and Santiago looked at each other.

"Space colonies?" Palermo asked.

"Okay," Carlo said. "Hear me out. When Moscow issued this war, it was seen as if we were fighting our enemies on the moons so they wouldn't invade us. Well, then, thanks to a close ally, I've found out something different. It turned out Moscow had a backup plan in case something happens to him or—"

"In case there was a war here," Santiago finished.

"Exactly! It was a new form of real estate. If he needed to escape and hide or needed to get back on his feet, that was what the space colonies were all about. He was going to escape Merica and hide on one of the space colonies and come back with full force. Unfortunately, he did not make it.

"And what do these space colonies have to do with us?" Palermo said.

"There's something else. The space colonies were also used as places of trade."

"Trade what?"

"Anything. Everything. They were new homes. New buildings of business. Using them, you could import and export whatever you want. We could use them to make money out of it. We could work a deal with the other aliens of the moons. Merica's population is growing, which means things might be worse for people who need work. And with St. Petersburg on a power trip, there's no telling what's going to happen next. We have the avenue to do that and we could offer them whatever we want."

"What are you talking about?" Palermo asked confusedly.

Santiago was curious about the information on Peter and Monte Carlo was talking about power trips.

"Look where we are in the scheme of things," Carlo said. "I'm sure you two thought when we won the Merican War, we were going to have better lives. But that's not the case. The only one that had gotten the better part of the deal was St. Petersburg. What did the rest of us get? A one-way trip back to our boring lives. I'm sure you guys are sick and tired of it. With this, we have the opportunity to make better lives out of ourselves. We could finally take care of our families."

"Why don't we just tell Peter about this?" Palermo asked. "We should tell him what we found?"

"Why should we?" Carlo asked. "So he could take the credit for it? All this would do is make him more powerful. Look, Palermo! With this, we could achieve a better power than ever before. And the best part about it is we don't need to use force or persuasion to do so. All we need is finance. Trust me. When the years go by, finance would be the wave of the future. The government won't be the complete power of Merica. We will. I don't see how this could be bad."

"How much money do you think we could get from all of this?" Santiago asked curiously.

"This is a gold mine," Carlo answered. "We could make personal routes so we're the only ones with access to these guys. For example, I'm sure you guys have heard about the new drug craze that grew from Lower Manhattan. There was only one place he could get the drugs."

"From the moons," Santiago answered for Carlo.

"See? He was able to get access to different spices. They're rich in those moons. That's another reason why Moscow wanted to control the moons. He's already a wealthy man. He already has power. We could achieve the same power. Why do we need to continue to be the puppet for St. Petersburg? We're not getting anything from it."

"And what makes you think we could even get access to the moons?" Palermo asked. "If Moscow couldn't even get it done, what makes you think we're any better?"

"Because we won't use force," Carlo said. "Besides, I was taking care of it before I call you guys. That's why I was able to get the information on it. That's why I think we could do this and succeed. Become masters in our own right."

There was silence with the other two comrades as Monte Carlo caught his breath. Palermo was perplexed as Santiago stood still.

"Fine," he said. "I'm in."

"What?" Palermo said shockingly.

"What do we have to lose?"

"Good!" Carlo said to Santiago. "What about you Palermo?"

Palermo held his chiseled belly. "I don't know about this."

"We can do this. All I need is some backup and by the time we make the trip, we're going to be rich. No more of our boring lives and no more following St. Petersburg. Is that what you want for the rest of your life? To follow some guy who's not even a soldier?"

Palermo was silent, tapping his head with his hand in frustration. He could not help but think it was a scintillating plan Monte was stressing to him.

"I'm going to regret doing this, but fine," Palermo relented.

Carlo patted his back. "That's the spirit!" He shook Santiago's hand. "I know this will work. One thing, though. We have to make the trip immediately if this is going to work perfectly. And our families or anyone else must not know what we're doing. For now, this stays between the three of us. Understand?"

Monte took a look at Santiago.

"Sure, whatever," Santiago responded.

Palermo nodded his head.

Then, the three walked out of the forest, feeling more relieved than ever before.

With that, Monte Carlo brought the perfect crew into his grand plan of domination. No matter what happened among the former LORD hierarchy turned new government, he knew that for this moment forward every part of the play had to be performed carefully.

****

Santiago went back to Devadas and to his beautiful wife. When he came home that night, he could see his wife sleeping. He could also see her belly growing bigger, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he or she would come out.

He slipped in the bed and held on to his wife tight. Feeling the touch, Madrid turned to him.

"Where did you go all that time?" she whispered.

"I went on a little business trip," Santiago said.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay now that I'm here. But I'm going to be leaving again soon."

"What's going on?"

"I can't tell you. At least not right now. But I will say this. If this works out, we won't be living here much longer. We're going to have a better life than this if this works out the way I planned. For me, you, and our boys."

"Our boys? You think this is a boy growing in my body?"

"I'm sure of it."

"When do you leave?"

"Let's not worry about that now. I just want to enjoy the time I have before I leave. And I can't find a place better to spend it than with you."

Santiago kissed his wife on the forehead. He knew that this was the last time for a while that he was going to be this comfortable with her. Afterward, he would leave with Monte Carlo and Palermo Carrano out of Mercia for outer space to the moons of Merica; with the opportunity for a better station in life being the number one motivator. 
7. RED AND BLUE

Peter racked his brain trying to figure out a new approach to his new problem in the form of Berlin Heidrich. Since the start of the rumors with the election, all eyes were on Peter.

What was going to be his next move?

He and Warsaw had many conversations and arguments. All he knew was that there was something he had to do and he had to do it fast.

"When is this going to stop?" Peter asked Warsaw one day in his office.

Warsaw could tell he was really worked up and the slightest tinge could make it worse. "

Berlin doesn't want talk anymore," Warsaw answered.

"I can see that. He wants action. That's the last thing I need. Everyone knows he's a great influence. He's a hero! I can't face that! He could jeopardize everything I have worked so hard to fix."

Warsaw did not like it when he used "I" instead of "we." Still, he did not comment.

"So what are you prepared to do?" Warsaw asked.

"Well, I can't talk to him, that's out," Peter said. "There's only one thing I can do. He has to be taken care of and fast."

"You don't mean?"

"I have no choice. I don't like it, but I'll be damn if he takes what I have. How can the people ever get back to the glory of Merica if Berlin's challenging me?"

"He's not challenging you. He's making some sense. I thought this was about the people, not us."

"Are you on his side now?" Peter screamed.

Warsaw shook. "I'm on the side of Mericans. That's all!"

"Then work with me. If Berlin does this, he's going to be disappointed. And we don't need that. Ever! So, we have to deal with this. I'm going to issue the following order. As of this moment, Berlin is hereby discharged from his post in Lower Manhattan. The control would go back to Upper Manhattan and me. Issue a secret order to Ijan Belgrade. I want a hit taken out on that traitor Berlin. Tell him to keep it quiet."

"He didn't do anything," Warsaw said.

"DO IT!" Peter bellowed.

Warsaw quieted down and left swiftly.

Peter went to his phone and dialed the number. "Buda! It's Peter. I need to see you right away. It's important. It's about a certain someone."

****

Warsaw headed for Belgrade in his office at the Sniper Brigade Quarters in the Twin Montors. Warsaw knew that if he told Belgrade this, then he would follow through with the order without question. He was lethal when it came to loyalty and it knew no bounds.

"He wants what?" Belgrade asked after hearing it from Warsaw.

"That's right," Warsaw responded. "Peter wants you to take Berlin out. He's to be considered a traitor. After everything that was going on, I fear the worse is coming. You should have seen him, Ijan. His eyes were too intense. I've seen those kinds of eyes before from him. Do you know anyone who can carry this out?"

"I can find someone from my unit," Belgrade said.

"Good! The sooner we deal with this, the better things would be and no one will have to know."

"Tell Peter it'll be taken care of."

****

Berlin was coming out of a restaurant with his wife one date night, trying to forget for some time about the tension between him and Peter. Vienna felt sorry for her husband. She knew that there was no way that he was going to get over this.

Their car came for them thanks to the valet. Vienna was about to enter the car, but she had to go back inside to get something. Berlin waited by the front door.

Before he was about to get back inside his car, two long cars came zooming by. Then, at least four to five pairs of hands came out, all with machine rifles, and started shooting. Berlin heard the sounds and ran for cover, moving people out of the way. Vienna was about to come out, but Berlin dropped her to the ground. Bodyguards of Berlin took out their pistols and fired into the long cars.

The cars zoomed away. Vienna and Berlin stood up. Vienna was relieved, but Berlin was pissed. He ran to see if any more cars were coming their way with guns. Their bodyguards stood in front of him, but Berlin's anger was all he needed. He and his wife went into their car and rode away quickly.

After driving around to avoid everyone, they ended up in his new house in Port Cloisters. Berlin went straight for the liquor as Vienna fixed her face and dress.

"Who the hell do they think they are?" Berlin asked, carrying his anger all the way to the bottle. "They have some nerve?"

"You know who sent those men," Vienna said as she sat at the foot of the bed.

"Don't start that!"

"What do you mean don't start? Everyone knows that Peter's the one who wants you dead. He already took your title. Now, he wants your life. What more does Peter have to do before you get that through your head?"

"He's not responsible. He's just looking out for his own."

"He's getting greedy. You know this. This is all about him. This isn't about the people. You tried to be nice and considerate to him and this is how he repays you? He tries to kill you out in the open?"

"And what do you expect me to do?"

Vienna went to her husband and put her arm around his neck. "The question is...what would General Berlin do?"

General Berlin knew what to do. He pushed Vienna away and went for another drink.

"You know it's the only way to deal with this," Vienna said. "And when you figure that out, then and only then will you ever find peace within yourself."

Berlin had a thought. "They were from Belgrade."

"What?"

"Those assassins were from the Sniper Brigade. They had on blue. I saw them. They were sent by Belgrade."

"Well, we have to go after him," Vienna said.

"By war?" Berlin asked. "Are you serious?"

"The only way for a soldier," Vienna said considerately. "Don't forget! He's a possible heir. He has more to lose with you being alive."

Vienna paused and cracked her neck. "I tell you what. You let me hit the first blow. Then, you can follow through."

Berlin stared at her confusedly. "And how are you going to do that?"

"Leave that to me. For now, stay out of sight. They have to think that you're dead. When I take care of this, then you can come out. Another thing, I need to know some of the names of other supporters of St. Petersburg. Any that you know."

"They're plenty," Berlin said. "Some of the main ones were Belgrade. And Budapest. They're the main ones."

"Good! I'll deal with that for the time being."

****

The next night, as Berlin stayed out of sight from prying eyes, Vienna went in disguise to the streets of Cassavas. So many memories when she walked the sidewalks of her old life. She could remember all her customers and all her friends, dead and alive. She even remembered her old corner. When she got there, she saw her old friends.

One of them was a best friend, a yellow-skinned prostitute named Liza Kinshasa.

They joined in a streetwalker gang when they were sixteen and have been on the same corner since. They worked as a team until Vienna met Berlin and married him.

This night, she was coming back. All of the other street prostitutes embraced her as Vienna came to her, not forgetting the life she had here. The last was Kinshasa, more than glad to see her. They went to an alley to talk privately.

"What are you doing here after all these years?" Kinshasa asked.

"You're not happy with your life?"

"I'm fine with my life," Vienna said. "Berlin is the greatest man in the world. I couldn't have met anyone better. It's just that he's in trouble."

"Money problems?"

"Personal. Someone's trying to kill him."

"Did it have anything to do with that shooting? I heard that he was killed."

"Well, that's why I came here. How would you like an opportunity to get out of this game?"

"How?"

"Well, this just doesn't apply to you, but anyone else. I have a plan to stop his enemies, but the only way this can work is with all of you. You could say no and I won't be mad at you."

Kinshasa cleared her throat. "How much are you paying?"

"The payment is a new life," Vienna said. "You get a chance to start something greater."

"You think that's what I want?"

"Yes, I do! Do you remember our talks? Well, this is a great opportunity. For the rest of the girls, I've got something for them, but for you, I have something special. What do you say?"

Skeptical about what Vienna was saying, Liza knew that by saying no, she would lose the only ticket she had left to get out the streets of Lower Manhattan.

Finally, Kinshasa said, "Just let me know."

****

Ijan Belgrade was relaxing after a day's work. He was out that night with his sniper friends, not worrying about anything except the next day. Thanks to Ijan and his new status in Merica, the Sniper Brigade was the true power behind the new political throne and was treated as such everywhere they went in the Twin Montors.

There was one doubt he had. As he was going to his car, he thought about what was going to happen next after his soldiers set things in motion. He knew there would be no forgiveness from anyone for going after Berlin, a soldier he respected.

Feeling paranoid, he got out of his car and decided to take a walk to the park near the Twin Montors. He reached into his pockets, looking for his pipe. As he stood near the luminous water, taking out a pipe from his pocket and lighting it up, a woman covered in a cloak and a veil over her mouth comes to him.

"Ijan Belgrade," she said.

"Something I can do for you," Belgrade said perplexed.

Suddenly, she swung the cloak to the other arm as she raised a pistol and shot it right away. Belgrade was struck in the chest. The woman continued to shoot three more times as he falls into the water.

She took off her veil.

It was Liza Kinshasa.

In her dialect language, she screamed, "Down with St. Petersburg."

Then, she fired another shot for good measure before she ran away into the night. However, someone witnessed what she had done and began to scream for dear life.

It was not going to bring Ijan Belgrade back.

****

Adam Budapest was having the greatest fun at the expense of Peter St. Petersburg. During the Merican War, he stole millions and saved it up for a rainy day. When Peter rose in power, he took out those riches and made himself glamorous in the eyes of the public.

He was the first known political celebrity. He was still a bachelor, which left him free to have any female he wanted. He was still handsome despite being older, so his image was worth a thousand words. Next to St. Petersburg, he was the next rising figure in St. Petersburg's government to possibly lead it.

He resided in Brooklyn because he loved their nightlife, and he lived it every chance he got. He lived in two homes; one in the heart of Bedford, a town becoming a city thanks to him and a small one in the town of Strident. He never told Peter about this because he knew that he would be in trouble for it; thus becoming one of the best-kept secrets in the St. Petersburg government.

One night, he decided to fly in one of the Brooklyn small, luxury planes from their airport to the Bronx and to their grand casino in Merose. He remembered taking some women from Lower Manhattan, and only women, to go with him, from pilots to politico groupies. He picked them up from the street and other places to go with him, thinking they could both get something from it, money for them and prestige for himself.

He wanted to go in groups and in style. He had both at his disposal.

As they were flying over the Rivrine Ocean and out of Brooklyn, he loved the view. The women were having their time at his expense.

Except for one.

She went to Budapest furtively. Seeing what he was working with, he invited her into his personal space, although he was thinking that there was something familiar about her face.

They got into a conversation. Something struck when he started talking about having the best fun in the world with the women. She got the rest of the women's attention.

"Everyone, listen," she said getting everyone's attention. "Ambassador Budapest is gracious enough to take us on this trip and I feel we should give him something for that. What do you say?"

Everyone cheered and shouted. Suddenly, someone unlatched the hatch of the plane open, letting all the night air out. Budapest did not know what was going on. All he knew was that the seat he was in was near the opening of one of the hatches.

"What is this?" Budapest asked, but the air was getting stronger.

Then, one of the girls gave Budapest's talking buddy, who turned out to be Vienna Berlin a gun. She cocked it back. Budapest tried to get up, but the gun was aimed right in his eye with the furious air blowing in front of her.

"DOWN WITH ST. PETERSBURG!" she bellowed.

Suddenly, the seat came loose and Budapest, along with the seat, flew out the door, but not before Vienna shot him in the chest.

Budapest was dropping from the sky and into the sea. The hatch closed slowly as Vienna laughed sadistically.

With another loyalist of Peter's dead, Vienna took a reprieve as she checked her watch. It was time to bring Berlin back into the picture.

****

Zuran Prague came back from a business trip to his mansion in Moonbrooke in Bronx one night, tired and looking for sleep. He had been all over the Bronx dealing with the situation St. Petersburg was dealing with.

Prague's ambassadorship was quieter than the others on their continent. He was a beloved ruler and was willing more than ever to help out the Bronx. Since his rule, he made changes to the Bronx that had brought it prestige.

This time, he was torn between choosing sides and protecting the Bronx. He knew that his life could be in danger if he chose the wrong side.

That had to wait for now. All he wanted to do was be with his wife and child and relax in his mansion.

Suddenly, he heard a noise from the outside. With some security cameras he installed in his mansion, he saw from inside that soldiers were trying to come inside.

He had no guns and his guards were dropping like flies. His wife and child were there with him and all were in his office, holding on to each other.

"What's going on?" His wife said. "What is this?"

"I don't know."

All they could do was watch their front door. They were hearing gunshots and explosions.

Then, the door exploded. The family took cover. When Prague raised his head, there he saw her. It was soldiers wearing all black; all pointing their guns at them. Some of the men went closer to them.

Prague stood in front of them.

"Spare my family," he said. "Take me. Let me plead my case to Peter. Let me tell him about my loyalty."

One of the men went to the wife and child and shot them both. Zuran was petrified. He could not fight back.

Then, one of the soldiers took off their masks and revealed a woman. Prague stood aghast.

"What is this?" he asked.

Then, they all took off their masks. It was women, specifically the female prostitutes of Lower Manhattan.

"Zuran Prague! Berlin sends his regards."

With that, the leader of the group raised her pistol and shot eight shots. Zuran Prague died near his family. All of the soldiers left the mansion, but not before setting it ablaze.

Another message from Berlin was received loud and clear. 
8. THE FINAL STAND

There was no more he could do.

After so many years without direct internal strife, a new war emerged between Peter St. Petersburg, the former architect turned sovereign leader and Berlin Heidrich, the former general turned politician turned general again.

Rumors spread around Upper Manhattan about a possible war between former LORD members. No one ever thought that it could occur.

Not even Peter, especially after years of telling the Mericans different tales of peace and harmony among the LORD.

Before, he called Admiral Ramon Oslo, the last among LORD's former top brass, to make sure that he was on his side. After a few phone calls and correspondence between the two, Oslo sent a phone message, pledging loyalty to St. Petersburg with a fleet of ships in Staten Island on standby.

He even called Zuran Prague, Ambassador of the Bronx, but there was not any communication from him for a while.

Warsaw came inside and kept him up with the current gossip. So far, propaganda momentum increased and it was affecting even the heart of St. Petersburg's Palace.

In his office, all Peter could do was assume that Berlin could be reached for a possible truce.

"Belgrade is dead," Peter told him as Warsaw sat across from him with his hands shaking nervously.

Peter knew that with Belgrade's assassination, it destroyed any chance to strike a blow into Berlin's campaign.

More bad news followed.

"Budapest is nowhere to be found. I called him weeks ago and he still hasn't shown up."

"Then we have to assume that he's dead as well," Warsaw said.

"Then, I have no choice. We may be facing war. Just what I need for my Manhattan. Another Manhattan war. Why did he have to stir all this up?"

"My Manhattan?" Warsaw said. "Since when did this become your Manhattan? It belongs to the people."

"What the hell do the people know?" Peter burst out. "They're dumb and would follow anyone that gives them something." He stood up and made sure Warsaw observed his face when he said it. "I'M THE PEOPLE! I'M MERICA! And right now, it's in trouble and I have to take action. I have no choice. I have to fight Berlin. That's why I have the armies in Staten Island on standby. At least I still have Ramon Oslo."

"Why can't we just give him what he wants?" Warsaw stressed. "Give him an election."

"What for? What would that prove? Berlin is an angry dumb, Redneck. If he ran Merica, he would destroy it completely along with the other rednecks. People can't live and breathe without me."

It was becoming worse.

After taking enough, Warsaw stood up. "I can't do this. This can't go on like this. This is going too far."

"What are you saying, Warsaw?" Peter asked. "Are you saying you're against me? You're against me now?"

"I'm against this action, not you. But if you do this, then I can't be involved."

Peter took a glass vase and threw it across the room at Warsaw, almost cutting his neck. Luckily, Warsaw ducked for cover.

"Get out!"

Warsaw got up from the floor. "What?"

"You've gone on to Berlin's side. That's what this is. You're changing alliances."

A voice of anger from Warsaw. "I've been nothing but loyal to you. I stood by your side. All you had to do was agree with what Berlin wants. Things were better when Moscow was in power. Why did we ever kill him?"

Suddenly, Peter reached into his desk, pulled out his gun and pointed it straight at Warsaw's heart.

"Now you're going to kill me?" Warsaw asked.

This time, for the first time in his life, Warsaw stood his ground. There was no way he was going to back down.

"Then, kill me and get it over with," Warsaw said. "By the time this is all over, we're all going to die. You've just awakened a sleeping giant. I feel for you."

With nervous hands, Peter slammed the gun on his desk.

"Get out!" Peter said furiously. "I don't ever want to see you on this continent again. If you show up at the palace or on this continent, you'll be executed on sight. You're nothing to me now. Just like Berlin is nothing to me. I'm the way and light of Merica. You're nothing but a servant looking for scraps just like the rest of them. Looking for something to believe because you have nothing. I'm the reason that you even exist at all. You'll be dead within a year. As for me...I'll be right here."

Warsaw said nothing. Warsaw did not want to say anything. He just turned his back and walked away. He waited for Peter's gun to go off and kill him.

It never did.

Warsaw escaped Peter's wrath for the moment.

After Warsaw's exit, Peter sat back and took a deep breath. He rubbed his forehead roughly. Then, he reached for his phone and made a call.

"This is a message for Admiral Ramon Oslo. Admiral Oslo...keep the navy on standby. I repeat! Keep the navy on standby!"

****

Unlike the rest of the continents of Merica, which were centers of commerce, trade, or other aspects, Staten Island had been and continued to be one giant base.

This was in part due to Admiral Ramon Oslo, who indirectly ran Staten Island since Peter took over Manhattan. Ramon was a good loyalist, but a sloppy leader. Formerly in control of LORD's massive fleet, he managed to make all of Staten Island furious at him. Oslo did not care because he had the backing of St. Petersburg.

When he came to his office days after Belgrade's death, in which he received messages from Peter himself, he was told to get his navy together to bomb Lower Manhattan just in case Berlin decided to attack.

Oslo obeyed willingly.

However, he had a problem.

A rising army was coming up from the depths of the smallest continent in Merica known as the Staten Island Death Squad, or SIDS. Their main purpose was to stop Oslo as well as any influence of St. Petersburg's rule. They were in support of Berlin when he started getting into the news.

With Berlin's rise, the SIDS rose and started attacking towns and cities. Oslo did his best to calm the problem by sending his sailors out to kill any SIDS member, but it was no use. He knew that he had to face them sooner or later.

Oslo made a bargain with Peter that if he handled Berlin, he would handle SIDS and their ruthless leader, an indigo-skinned Merican named Ismil Baghdad.

Baghdad was a working-class teacher who became a soldier when he joined SIDS. Like their members, he was tired of the inefficiency of Oslo's leadership. Like Moscow did during his rule, Oslo was taking money from the people of Staten Island, getting greedier all the time. His entire reason for it was that he was St. Petersburg's greatest military leader and with his word being Merican law, he had power over the entire continent.

Oslo received many calls from his captains and commanders giving him progress reports about the latest attacks. Some were squashed and others were in the process of being so. Since SIDS was still not a cohesive unit, Oslo had no worry for the moment about the Staten Island militia.

Then came the call from Peter. He called with one message from his base in Port Richmond.

In two days, send the fleet into Port Tavares and liberate it of anything that has to do with Berlin. This will be our statement.

****

Berlin settled down at his hideout. From some of his men, he found out that Peter was preparing for war. Berlin could not have been happier. This was his element, but he never thought he would fight a former comrade.

Still, it had to be done. His life was being threatened and he knew that Peter knew he was lurking around Lower Manhattan.

Berlin the politician was dead. He burned all of his suits in the backyard of his home in a small bonfire, but kept his old LORD uniform. He went back to his office, took the uniform he wore as a hero of the Merican War, and put it back on. He took a look at himself in the mirror. Everything was still in place.

Feeling himself, he assumed his old role.

His wife, Vienna, entered his office and observed his uniform. She walked to him and wrapped her arms around him. Vienna influenced his choice to move forward more by getting him out of his funk. She got the ball rolling by taking out the two possible successors to Peter's reign.

However, the true war that emerged had nothing to do with the leaders, but more with the color of their skin. What started as a debate between two leaders became an attribute contest of physical and mental qualities between blue-skinned Mericans, or blueballs, and red-skinned Mericans, or rednecks.

The propaganda wars became a sort of election that Berlin wanted all along, and the red general and his wife took advantage of it. With most of his loyalists assassinated, more Mericans flocked to Berlin's banner.

With the new support, Berlin returned to the limelight and showed his face more. Seeing that Vienna started the political wheels moving, it was Berlin's time to make a move.

A messenger came to him with a newspaper. The front page attracted Berlin.

SIDS STRIKES AGAIN!

The messenger gave Berlin information on the situation in Staten Island regarding SIDS and their leader Ismil Baghdad. Berlin realized that if he was going to get an edge on Peter, he needed an army and a ruthless ally.

Baghdad and SIDS fit the bill perfectly.

He made a call to Baghdad in Staten Island, ecstatic to tell him that he would back him up with anything he wanted.

Days later, Berlin received a message from Baghdad.

We support you, Berlin, in anything you want.

The stage was set. There was no going back for Berlin or Peter. And the actions on the island of Staten Island, which was insignificant once upon a time, would become the centerpiece of both leaders' campaigns.

****

Krusk Warsaw wrote many letters as the days went by and the war was close at hand. He wrote to St. Petersburg, to Berlin, and to all of his friends from the LORD still around.

He thought there was a chance for change in Merica. It had become his life goal, just like Peter St. Petersburg was the grandfather figure he never had. However, Peter was seduced by power like the Russes before him and there was no way he could stop him.

He knew that this was it. All he could hope for was that there was a chance it could be resolved without violence; and if there was a chance that violence could not be helped, that all of Merica would not suffer an ultramodern fate.

Then, he could see what became of all of Merica.

Alas, he could not. All he could do was assume.

He finished his last letter before cracking open a bottle of wine in front of him. He looked out into the light from the sun in the skies of Merica from his apartment. He took a seat in front of the desk.

Then, with the few seconds he had left, he took a deep breath, put a gun to his head, and pulled the trigger. The bullet went clean through his brain, dropping him out of his seat.

The last of Peter's greatest loyalists was dead.

****

Peter's forces advanced into Lower Manhattan and threw their bombs into the buildings. Riots erupted in the streets as Peter's army, led by the leaderless the Sniper Brigade, decided to fire off at innocent bystanders just wanting to get away from the madness.

No one knew what to make of this Upper Manhattan move. On one hand, the battles were one-sided as Peter's forces were making progress, taking no prisoners and killing anything else that stood in his way.

On the other hand, Berlin's forces fought back. He was able to fight back so forcefully because he kept his arsenal with him when he took the post in Lower Manhattan.

Within a few months, there was nothing Peter's forces could do. Thanks to Lower Manhattan's connection to Berlin and extra muscle from his new partners in the SIDS, he became too powerful. He was still an efficient general and unlike Peter, who preferred to lead from his office, Berlin led from the front, letting his face be seen for the newspapers and other media to write stories about him.

Berlin continued to use his words as well, preaching about the treachery of St. Petersburg with each march upward.

Some listened and others did not.

None of the talk matters. All Mericans in Manhattan knew that the only resolve for this was through guns and bombs.

As Berlin made the move to Upper Manhattan, the SIDS of Staten Island took the battle to the seas. Ramon Oslo attacked Port Tavares, one of the main ports in Lower Manhattan for trade. It was here that the SIDS defended. Despite not having any fleet to call their own, the SIDS used other means at their disposal to create sneak attacks on Oslo's ships by detonating bombs on the ships so that the sailors died a slow, sinking death.

Berlin's forces moved from Lower Manhattan and for the first time, made his way into Upper Manhattan, taking down small towns. One of his major conquests came when he went into the town of Cannock. It got into the records as one of the quickest battles in Merican history. The reason why it was so quick was that the people were so afraid of Berlin and his mercilessness was so relenting, they burned their own buildings and stores to stop worse from happening.

Then, there was the new city of Harlem. Peter and his forces held out hope that the new city would hold their end of the bargain and defend them against Berlin. But showing no loyalty to one side on the other, they let Berlin through without hesitation. Berlin could not believe that they came so eagerly.

With most of the Manhattan towns under the control of Berlin's faction, nothing else was standing in the way between him and the Twin Montors, the capital of Peter's vision.

All that was left was taking down the palace.

Berlin was not going to get the chance.

Upon planning an attack near the Twin Montors, he received a message from Peter that he was going to give him a chance to say his peace. It was not an initial surrender, but close enough as far as Berlin was concerned.

Berlin ordered his army to return back to Lower Manhattan, but be on standby. If there was a chance there was a trick, their final order was to bomb the Twin Montors with everything they got.

No survivors!

****

With the correspondence between the two Merican political Titans occurring once again, Berlin met Peter inside his palace. When he came inside, he could tell that there were changes inside and out, but not much. Somehow, Peter tried to match the luxury of Moscow's Palace, paid for by the blood and sweat of Mericans.

There was a sort of royal court waiting for him while he was alone in hostile territory. No army there to save him, but he flexed his physical muscles so everyone watching could see. If it was between him and Peter, he was going to make sure it was he and Peter.

Coming from the side was Peter with some Sniper Brigade guards, swinging a sword slightly. Berlin smirked, but one more look at Peter's face, he could see this was no trick and the seriousness of the present situation reigned in Peter's circle.

"Welcome, old friend," Peter said. "I didn't think you would show up here alone. I didn't think this was your kind of scene."

"What is this all about?" Berlin asked.

One of his guards presented Berlin with a sword.

"Do you remember when we were kids and we used to play swords?" Peter asked. "I remember that I would always beat you and you told me that one day, you were going to get me back. Well, here's your chance. Do you want to take me down? You want me dead? Then, we do it in the ancient way. You kill me and you can take Manhattan and all of Merica. No need for an election."

Berlin unbuttoned the collar button on his shirt. "Are you crazy?"

"No more than you're a coward," Peter answered.

Berlin took the sword from the guard and gripped it tightly. All of the people spread themselves out. Cameras and reporters were around.

Peter addressed his aristocratic audience. "I want all to witness this. I want you to all know that if Berlin defeats me, then he'll be your new leader. If not, then let it be known that he will die a traitor's death, like the others that follow him. As you can see, Berlin. This isn't just about you. Lives depend on what you do here, right now."

Berlin clutched it tighter than ever. "If it's up to me..."

Then, Berlin charged after him. Everyone gasped. Peter maneuvered around as Berlin swung the sword wildly, but he could not catch Peter. However, Peter could catch him. Swipe after swipe came from Peter's sword, putting scars into Berlin's signature uniform.

At first, all were embracing the fight, but as Peter put more scars in him and Berlin was losing breath, everyone inside the palace worried about Peter's behavior.

"Is that all you can do?" Peter yelled to him and everyone. "I thought all dirty rednecks loved to fight! You loved to taste blood. Isn't that why they all looked up to you? Is that why they chose you to lead them against me? You managed to get everyone I've trusted to go against me. Well, LOOK AT HIM NOW! You still want him to lead you?"

Berlin was tired of the words. He clenched his fists and tightened his grip on the sword. He had a little strength left.

Peter strolled to him, but Berlin swung back. He was swinging with all the life he had in him. Peter was able to dodge them as usual. Then, Peter tried to unleash a blow aiming straight for his heart, but he missed. Berlin came from behind with a backward thrust and stabbed Peter in the back.

Everyone gasped loudly. Berlin kept the sword to his back. He went close to his ear.

"I guess I won," he whispered. "Welcome to the end."

He let go of the sword handle and with it, Peter's body dropped to the palace floor. Blood squirted from Peter's back and stuck to the floor.

Immediately, photographers came out with their cameras to take pictures. Some took pictures of Peter's dead body and a few went to Berlin's face. The reporters yapped their mouths off with praise.

Berlin was speechless. All he could do was stare at everyone's shock grimaces as they still tried to grasp what just happened. Then, he turned to the body of Peter St. Petersburg, and with it, he stared at nearly ten years of his socialist rule dead and gone.

Nothing was left of it except a dead body and a pool of blood.

Berlin knew that now and forever, his blood would symbolize his life entirely; sinking into the royal floor, turning it bright red.

****

News of the death of Peter St. Petersburg spread weeks later before it became public knowledge to the rest of the planet.

The news hit the worst in the realm of Ramon Oslo. He had lost his sovereign and ally; and with it, any hope of backing against rebels.

With a majority of his comrades dead, there was no one he could turn to for support.

In his office, every chance he got, he would look at the papers or the news on the televisions and see it.

Peter's funeral was the grandest ever. Berlin had more respect for Peter even after the battles than most gave him credit for. Most saw it as nothing more than presenting an image. Since there was no one else to come up and take the mantle after Peter, Berlin was left to take the rings of Merican power.

Oslo knew that with this happening, he was a target. Suddenly, the SIDS rebels that were at one point a pest he thought he could swat away, became flying dragon breathing fire on his island.

He had someone worse than Berlin to contend with. Sooner or later, he would have to meet them head-on.

"Peter may have lost his war," he had told some of his friends. "But I won't lose mine. Let Berlin come."

Berlin never came, which was good news. The bad news was that he did not need Berlin to come to Staten Island. Baghdad carried enough guts and recklessness to give him a fight.

Within the latter weeks, more news was coming of towns being taken by the SIDS. Town after town fell before SIDS, frustrating Oslo's once-glamorous fleet.

Oslo knew that there was only one way he could save what was left. He had to fight him pushing forward and hope he could land one grand blow in one central battle to shatter the SIDS mystique once and for all.

The orders were issued.

"Under no circumstances was Baghdad or SIDS to come anywhere near the Staten Island capitals. Defend them at all costs, even if it means to sacrifice. May the gods bless our leader Peter St. Petersburg and may the gods bless the planet of Merica...!"

With Oslo's battle cry, the final phase of the LORD era, the Staten Island War, had begun.

However, Ramon could not even fathom if he wanted to how damaging his words were going to be.

Out of the little scrimmages, one battle was bound to happen and would become the focal point for the rest of the Staten Island War.

The Battle of Great Kills.

The capital was a city between Oslo's home base in Totten and SIDS's hiding place near Staten Island Mountains. Great Kills was not the greatest city in Staten Island or even the most talked-about, but this time, it was the center of which side would last to the last man.

It became a bloody, three-week battle. Both sides suffered great losses. Oslo's forces made a critical mistake. They thought it was going to be a quick battle, in which he was going to send planes from the fleet carriers above the city and bombed any SIDS soldiers coming near the city. But Baghdad had his planes as well, and they were firing on them with the greatest of ease at Oslo's planes.

Like Oslo did when he was with LORD, Baghdad led his fleets in the heat of battle. He wanted to show the opponents and his own men that he was willing to take a bullet or several for the cause. He had taken some blows for the cause, which gave him the leadership of the SIDS in the first place.

By the last night of the three weeks, after there were equal losses, the SIDS defeated Oslo's forces and had taken over Great Kills.

This was the first major battle in an island war fought in a city on the Staten Island continent. It would not be the last as many battles would follow. Oslo had a problem on his hand, and being the last of St. Petersburg's loyalists, he had to fight for more than just himself. He had to fight for the government that might not make it to the new decade in Merica's new political era...

