Joseph Stalin stared at Bruno with wide eyes, and pupils as thin as needles. He had run quite far to escape from this man and his relentless pursuit. And now that the would-be dictator was sitting across from him, he couldn’t help but fear that death was behind Bruno, resting his hand on the man’s shoulder in approval of what was about to come as if this foreign general sitting before him was an agent of the Grim Reaper.
A drink? Really? Such was not a kindness at this time, nor was it welcome. Having been reduced to such a pitiful state, an offering like this was merely a way for Bruno to boast about his victory to the defeated wretch in front of him, who was about to die.
Nevertheless, Joseph Stalin knew this wasn’t an offer he could refuse, and nodded his head silently, resigning himself to his fate as he did so. Bruno, of course, whistled, causing the men standing outside the door to attend to him. They were confused when he asked for a bottle of vodka and two glasses, but fulfilled the recently promoted field marshal’s offer, no less.
The first words to be spoken between Bruno and a figure he despised most passionately were actually from Stalin.
“I see the Tsar has appointed you as a Field Marshal of the Russian Army. A well-deserved reward, considering the lengths you have gone to just to see our cause thoroughly dismantled before our eyes. I still can’t help but wonder why you despise us so? Are the lives of workers, and the rights they are owed, really so worthless in your eyes, you bourgeoisie scum!?!”
Bruno poured himself a drink, and then one to Stalin. He did not break out into laughter at the man’s misconceptions of him, nor did he immediately respond. Instead, he made a toast, drinking vodka in a single go, ensuring the man that it was not poisoned.
“prochnost!”
Stalin was silent when he drank, refusing to accept Bruno’s toast. Which itself was a boast of the strength he displayed on the field against the Red Army. Instead, he silently watched the man waiting for him to respond. And when he did, it was indeed a surprising monologue.
“You misunderstand me… I don’t hate you Marxists because you claim to represent the working class. I mean, I myself am the grandson of a man who was a professional soldier, ennobled for his gallantry on the field of battle and his acts of heroism in defense of the fatherland.
While I am a noble in name, I am, in reality, a soldier. And my family has always paid the workers in our factories a fair wage, capable of supporting themselves and their families. In addition to this, we support political parties with significant contributions that represent the working class who, unlike yourselves, still have respectable and moral values.
No, I hate you and your ilk, because you are all fundamentally anti-human by the very nature of your beliefs. Your ideals would condemn thousands of years of tradition to the dustbins of history for no purpose other than your petty envy.
Your beliefs would tear families apart and condemn those great men who have risen to such exceptional status because of their merits to a mass graveyard. You would steal from us what we have built with blood, sweat, and tears, and distribute it to others unworthy of ownership.
By your very existence, your ideals are destined to dispatch hundreds of millions of innocent men, women, and children to the afterlife far before their time has come. Because you do not believe in family, or faith, or fatherland, or the Lord God almighty.
I hate you, because at the end of the day what you, and those who support your beliefs really are, is a bunch of lazy, immoral, incapable, incompetent, murderous degenerates. Who can blame every fault of their lives, which is a result of their own inability to succeed in their betters. And that is why I despise you so much.
If God himself had not brought me into this world for the purpose of changing your fate, I would have gladly rended time and space through my own might just to watch you burn. Now drink, because this is your last opportunity to gain any semblance of joy in your life.
After we finish this bottle, I will have a pyre built in the city of Vladivostok, and you will be burned at the stake for your crimes against humanity, whether committed in this life or your past life. Because I can think of no death more worthy for a mass murderer such as yourself.”
Joseph Stalin was not surprised that a man representing the Monarchy would view him in such a light. Nor did he expect a nobleman to understand his cause. But to burn him at the stake, this was a death of such cruelty, that he himself felt was unwarranted towards his simple acts of revolution. And was quick to protest this sentence.
“You would burn me alive? Even by my standards, that is a cruelty that few men are deserving! What crimes have I committed to deserve such a barbaric end?”
Bruno, of course, knew that Stalin did not understand why his death would be so cruel. But quite frankly, when compared to the innocent victims of the Nazino tragedy as it was rebranded to mask the crimes committed by Stalin and his regime that were simply unspeakable in polite company. This was a fate far more merciful than he deserved.
If one were inclined to research the event, they would have to do so at their own risk, as the entire massacre was not something the faint of the heart could handle. As it was commonly referred to outside academic circles as “Cannibal Island.” Which only explained a fraction of the horrors which innocent farmers who refused to give up their land were subjected to under the orders of Stalin and his horrific regime.
It was with this in mind that Bruno’s gaze became sadistic as his smirk became murderous. Expressing his true hatred for the man sitting in front of him, and what lengths he would take to avenge his victims were he capable of doing so.
“If it were up to me, I would have your torment last for eternity. But such judgement is not up to a man like myself. No, I fear all I can do is simulate a fraction of what God has in store for you. So, drink up, because I do not want any man to say I did not at least show you some mercy in your final moments.
The Vodka should at least dull some of the pain. It is far more than you deserve, but alas, I am a man of mercy, after all. I can’t help but give you this one last gift before you are sent to the keeper of your soul.”
After saying this, Bruno poured himself one last cup of vodka, where he drank it in a single motion, as if it were a mere shot of alcohol. After doing so, he stood up, and walked past Stalin, patting the man on the shoulder as he took the bottle and glasses out of the room. Ensuring he could not commit suicide before his public execution.
Afterward, Bruno prepared the pyre which would be Stalin’s end in this life. One wholly deserving of the crimes he had committed.
—
Stalin’s death at the hands of Bruno and the Russian Army was one of Public Knowledge. Throughout the entirety of the civil war Bruno, and the Russian Authorities had hunted down and eliminated every single leader of the Bolshevik Revolution, each one suffering a death worse than the one before him.
It had been over a year since Bruno first stepped foot in Russia during the winter of 1904, and during this time he had led the charge against the Red Army, and the Bolshevik Revolution which sought to overthrow the Tsar and establish a “Communist Utopia” in Russia.
Now, in the early months of 1906, there was only one leader of the Bolshevik revolution who remained breathing. His comrades were dead, each of which had suffered horrific ends at the hands of the Red Scourge.
Truthfully, Lenin had expected at least one of them to make it out of the country alive. Even though things had turned south for the Bolshevik party, and the militant wing of their movement known as the Red Army, he still believed that he and his comrades would be able to one day return and finish what they had started.
But when Lenin read of Stalin’s brutal end, his heart, if it was even capable of doing so, felt a twinge of pain. Unlike his comrades, who were hunted down one by one and were ultimately executed for their crimes. Lenin had long since fled the country.
After the disaster, that was the Red Army’s policy to shoot their own soldiers in the back should they flee the battlefield. Stalin remained behind to lead the guerilla efforts of the Red Army. While Lenin, who was the coward and opportunist that he was, quickly realized that their efforts were in vain, and the revolution was doomed to fail.
As a result, he had fled back to where he had lived during his time in exile from Russia, or at least right before the revolution began in 1904. Lately, things had been peaceful for the Communist revolutionary, and because of this Lenin had become laxer in his daily life.
However, just because Switzerland was a neutral state, that would not officially hand him over to the Great Powers of Europe for the crimes he committed while in Russia. That did not mean that he was not being pursued by agents of the Kaiser and the Tsar.
And because of this, Lenin would soon meet his end, just like all of his comrades had. After all, though he didn’t realize it, the agents of the German Crown had their eyes on him within Geneva and were currently watching his every move.
It was only a matter of time before Bruno came to Switzerland to personally extract and execute the last name on his list. And once he had done so, this civil war which threatened to tear apart the very order of this world would finally come to a proper end.
