Comrade, after the education about the glories of the Soviet Union you received last week, it is time to show some of tool with which we spread the joy of communism. The Sickle is the pride of the Red Army. Wait, have I seen you before? Where are you from, Comrade? I cannot place your accent.
Let me tell you a story about a note from an Alliance spy I found:
I hope this message will find you at some point. When it does, I’m probably dead. The Soviets are developing a monstrous gunship. I trust the pencil drawings I made have arrived safely at the bridge over the river.
The cell I’m in is too dark to give you a detailed drawing. Before I was caught I overheard a couple of engineers discussing the chopper. I think they work for the Don Polytechnical Institute in Novocherkassk. They have fitted so many weapons on this behemoth of an aircraft, they are having difficulty getting it up the air. But they won’t stop until this Sickle is airborne and reaping our troops like its namesake reaps grain.
We must not let this beast lose in the skies, we must sabotage it at all costs or we will all regret it. My location is, or rather was, since I’ve no idea where they’ve brought me, nine and five quarters in the mountains. I don’t know if they’ve moved on, but it seems a good place to start.
Perhaps it’s the endless and gruesome torture I’ve been submitted to, but the gunship won’t leave me alone. It haunts my dreams, and in my waking hours I can only imagine what the Hammer must look like.
M.
You do not need to worry about him anymore. The NKVD has dealt with the matter swiftly. We need to be very careful with anti-revolutionaries and spies – but you are a true revolutionary, aren’t you Comrade?