• Unified World: Theory of the Betrayal



    Dominik drove the SB-200, a motorcycle run on steam, back on his way from town. His home was just coming over the hills in the distance. He slowed down and checked the mail boxes at the end of the gravel drive. Dominik pulled out the mail from a few and turned the motorcycle to drive down the road. He revs it once and takes off. Dominik makes a few stops as he tosses the packs of mail on his two neighbor’s doorsteps. He comes to a right-angle turn and takes it slow, driving on down to where he lives.

    Dominik Kroenen was a young man, only just turning eighteen years old. He lived on a farmland, but his family owned no livestock, nor did they plant crops. Their whole lives were devoted to smelt and to smith. His father was fifth generation American, but his forefathers came from Germany. Dominik’s father, Yohan Kroenen, was taught metal work from his father; the same through the generations with the sons. Yohan was married to Natasha Vlada Sarnoff. Natasha was from Russian descent, but her family moved to America as the Cold War – from 1945 to 1991 – was in the final ten years. In 1985, the couple met, and was married by 1988. In 1992, Dominik would be born in to the family. In the year of 2010, many things have come since the old days of the Steam Era.

    Dominik pulls his motorcycle in to the garage and slides it leg over the back to get off. He walks out of the garage and around back. A large building shadows his house, even if it’s five hundred feet from his house. The building was his father’s business, Kroenen Metalwork. Yohan’s business crafted metal for just about everything; from vehicles to the Aero-Nautiluses smaller parts, and even some parts for weapon-crafts. Dominik walks along the concrete path to his father’s office. He knocks on the door and a deep ‘Eh?’ comes from inside. Dominik walks in and nods his head to his father, who does the same in return. Dominik sits down in a chair, ”So, father, what is business like today?” Yohan took a sip of coffee and shrugged his shoulders. ”Well, it’s hard, and I don’t mean just working the metals. Money is tight these days, we pay more per-ton than we use to. We’re pushing along well enough, though,” Yohan would give reassurance that he wouldn’t go down in this tough economy.

    A woman walks in from the door to the assembly line. Dominik looks over, ”Mom?”, and correct once she takes her welder’s mask off. Natasha puts a hand on her hip, ”I get a call today, Yohan. You talk to your son, ‘kay? He got in trouble. Got in a fight, ‘cause of you, say his boss.” Natasha worked with the other men, and those few women who dared, inside of the forges and assembly area. Being with Yohan for twenty years taught he how to do a lot of things inside of that factory. Dominik smirked and stood, ”I don’t want to talk about it. I won’t let someone talk trash on our family.” Natasha raised a hand and smacked Dominik. Even with Dominik’s quick reflexes, his mother’s strike was always quicker. He rubs the back of his head as his mother yells at him in Russian. Natasha points at Yohan, ”You talk to him, yes?” Dominik and Yohan had learned that whenever Natasha put ‘yes?’ at the end of a sentence, she wanted it to happen. Yohan nods and watches his wife put her mask back on and head back in to the shop.

    Dominik sits and still rubs his head, ”He said you were just some stupid German that knew nothing but how to work metal..” Yohan leans back in his chair, fixing the collar on his vest. He stands and goes to a window, waving his son over. Dominik stands goes to his father’s left side. Yohan runs his chin, ”The man is right, Dom.. I know nothing of math, I know no literature, and I have little knowledge of science. All I know is history and how to work metal. Knowing just those two things has made me best in the field of how to work metal. I own a business that is offered contracts by the World Government. We... are who we are. I am a smith. I make metal-craft. It’s time you learned that is who I am. You can’t let someone get you angry because they say I am someone who I really am.” Dominik stares at the people on the floor, ”But you’re not stupid, you’re a good businessman and metal worker.” Dominik could hear his father’s low chuckle. ”Oh, my boy, I learned those from my father.”

    Dominik smirked and turned, ”Good talk, dad. Can I get out of here now?” Yohan turned and opened to his mouth to speak, but would be interrupted by the ringing of his telephone. He walks to his desk and nods to his son. Dominik shuffles out of the office and walks the path back home. Yohan swings the door open quickly, ”Dominik!” Dominik stops and looks up as he goes to turn around. There is a group of men in black suits waiting at the back of the house. The man who seemed to be in charge walks forward. He tips his hat to Dominik, ”Good day, Mr. Kroenen. I need to speak with you.”

    Three weeks earlier:

    An Aero-Nautilus floats over England. It carries a symbol on the side that looks like a wolf in a tribal tattoo form, and is painted in red. A plane drops from the hatch of the belly and turns upright on its way towards Germany. Another plane drops and a roar blast through the sky. It launches off, with a trail of smoke, towards Russia. The Aero-Nautilus comes to a Ladder-Dock, and a man and two others in black suits follow him inside an elevator. The man takes a drag on a cigarillo and speaks in Russian. The two men walk out of the elevator first and then the man. The Queen of England is waiting for him as he comes out. This mysterious man smiles and bows his head, ”I’m sure you’ve agreed to our request, Your Majesty.” He smiles and smoke filters between what cracks there are. The Queen nods her head, ”Yes, and I do believe our agreement is set. When shall the request for our part of the bargain come?” The man turns and enters the elevator, ”Soon enough, Your Majesty. Soon enough.”

    The steam-plane destined for Germany would arrive the next day. It lands on an airstrip for the President of Germany and other distinguished guest only. The wolf symbol is on both wings and on the tails. A few soldiers drive out to meet with the craft and salute the woman who walks out. She pushes her goggles up and smiles to the soldiers. The woman hops off the ladder to let herself down. She looks to the soldiers, ”My name is Natalie Coltford. I am here to see the President, to see our agreement.” The woman stood at six feet four inches, and had a good physique. She was African American, but to any man an African Goddess. Her skin was perfect, and that would be her greatest weapon. She was able to seduce who she wanted, and knew that the biggest prey would also be some of the easiest. The soldiers tell her to get on the vehicle and drive off as she straps herself in.

    The steam-jet lands in Russia 14 hours later. The engine can become overheated, so it needs to land after some time, but can get someone pretty far. The man climbs out of the jet and down the ladder. He walks over to a group of men who are waiting, and he climbs on to a motorcycle. This man was in strange attire. What little of one could see, not hidden by his leather, skin-tight suit, would be covered in cloth-wrap. He had tinted swimmer-like goggles over his eyes, and there was no mouth hole on the leather balaclava over his head. He takes off towards the housing for the Premier of Russia. He would arrive after a twenty to twenty-five minute ride. The soldiers following behind him walk him in and to the office. The Premier looks to the group as they enter the office. He walks over and extends hand to the mysterious man. The man in the leather suit stares and the Premier lowers his hand. The Premier responds back with, ”Who are you, comrade?” The man folds his arms behind him, ”My name is Alexi Petrov Nikiton Malakhovskii. I am here on orders from Damien Fransekko Khallos. We have three weeks and four days. Ready yourself, Russian Premier.” The man bows his head and leaves; the soldiers follow.