Author Topic: A Night in July CH2 + Plus  (Read 13967 times)

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TheAce1918

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A Night in July CH2 + Plus
« on: May 25, 2006, 03:29:28 PM »
16 July 1918


      Explosions woke Charlie up.  He frantically looked around, realizing he was still suspended in the large tree.  Reaching down at his flight pants he took his Bowie knife out and cut the cables to his chute.  He braced himself as several more branches slapped him hard on his way down.  Moaning in pain, Charlie prayed to God that no one was nearby to hear him. Finally being able to sit up, he recognized only the tail of his plane.  The Nieuport[ch8217]s mangled body was definitely buried, by the size of impact from the crash; Charlie was able to guess that it had pretty much disintegrated.  He stood around a large tree, the same one that took his parachute, knocking him out in the process.  
      [ch8220]Nice job cowboy.[ch8221]  He cursed at himself hoarsely.  [ch8220]Go chasing after the Reds and where does it lead ye?[ch8221]  He looked about his surroundings, trying to identify some buildings, a church, something.  The only thing identifiable was a dirt road; its rocks glistened in the early morning dew.  [ch8220]Well, headquarters won[ch8217]t like this mission report![ch8221] He walked down the road slowly, careful with every step.  The rocks below his feet crunched and melted into the soft wet mud.  He held his Colt pistol tight, ready to aim and fire if needed.  The handles left stinging imprints to the palms of his hands.  He had taken the Lewis gun with him, even though he despised the damned thing, it still held a purpose.  He swung a large pack over his back, loaded with various types of ammo and a few grenades.   A sudden crack and pop of gunshots in the distance froze him.  He squatted down to the ground, trying his best to blend in with the shadows.  A soft rumbling echoed not far away, he heard it louder now, before he knew it, he was jumping in a group of bushes on the side of the road.  
      Two large trucks groaned past him, huge clouds of smoke piped from their mufflers.  He heard scattered Russian being exchanged by the men aboard the vehicles.  He breathed as low and as slowly as possible, hoping he wasn[ch8217]t giving his position away.  When the trucks were long gone down the road, Charlie peeped out of his hiding spot and began to trek after them.  
      The night[ch8217]s rain had given off a humid breeze that stifled even the bravest soldier.  And for Charlie, the passing minutes were no exception.  Coming across an intersection he found beside the street signs, the city limit sign as well.  He squinted at its direction, pointing west.  It read Yekaterinburg in Russian.  
      [ch8220]At least the map reading paid off.[ch8221]  He thought to himself with a smirk.  [ch8220]If I recall briefing that[ch8217]s where Wilkes had rumored that was where some royal family might be.[ch8221]  Before he and Boris had left. Wilkes had informed them of communist insurgency in the Ural Mountain area.  The Soviets there were brutal and tough to the bone.  He remembered back to his wingman, the two had run into combat all gung-ho, and now, like his plane, poor Boris was gone.  Buried in Russia.  
      He walked past the sign; he had a couple more miles to go before he was actually in the town named after Russia[ch8217]s Catherine the Great.  Checking himself, he remembered his ammo and felt a little more at ease.  
      [ch8220]Still, I hope it can hold off some of the bastards.[ch8221]  

      His watch read five in the morning when he entered the woods east of Yekaterinburg.  Charlie hunkered down for the rest of the night, taking periodic naps, only being awakened by the sounds of those annoying trucks and slob Red soldiers.  Sneaking up a little, still camouflaged he spied a large white mansion.  Surrounding it was a large wooden-spiked fence.  At each entrance was an armed guard.  Every now and then a man would pass them; exchanging salutes as he entered the house.  
      Sliding his binoculars in his pocket, he let out a quiet sigh.  [ch8220]That[ch8217]s where they have to be[ch8230]no other building in this town is this heavily guarded.[ch8221]  He started to crawl back to his original napping spot.  But something stopped him, something firm and hard against his back, his head slowly turned only to meet a pair of eyes and a rifle staring right back at him.

      [ch8220]Papa, how far are the Whites?[ch8221]  Aleksey asked from his cot.  The Tsarevich, due to his illness had shared a room with his parents while his sisters, the grand duchesses slept in another across the hall.  
      [ch8220]I do not know my child.[ch8221]  The former Tsar said, staring out the window idly.  [ch8220]They don[ch8217]t sound like they are too far from the city, last night I could have sworn I had heard the sound of airplanes in the sky.[ch8221]  
      [ch8220]Let us only pray to the Lord God that they will be here soon.[ch8221]  Alexandra said amidst her knitting.  Her frail old fingers were shaking from her poor health and anxiety.  Nicholas looked at her; he still loved her no matter what.  His beloved [ch8216]Sunny[ch8217], he would follow her to the end, even unfortunately if that was to come.  
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Fatal_Gal »

Offline Laura Mabee

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #1 on: May 25, 2006, 04:14:33 PM »
Maybe as to not flood the "Having Fun" boards we can try to keep your fan-fiction to one thread/or two?

Also, do you have a title for your fan-fiction?
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by Fatal_Gal »

TheAce1918

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #2 on: May 25, 2006, 05:18:27 PM »
What's that supposed to mean?  Oi, I warned that it was a huge story.  I only switched threads so no one got confused thats all.  But alright, I will keep it on the same thread...the one thats labled CH2...it will just continue from there.  

As far as the title is concerned...I had it narrowed down to 2.  
One Night in July
and
Change of Fate

Peace

Offline Sarushka

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #3 on: May 25, 2006, 05:29:22 PM »
Quote
What's that supposed to mean?  Oi, I warned that it was a huge story.  I only switched threads so no one got confused thats all.  But alright, I will keep it on the same thread...the one thats labled CH2...it will just continue from there.  
Good idea -- as time goes on, your story will be easier for folks to find & read if it's all in one thread!
  :)

TheAce1918

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Romanov Fan Fiction CH2 cont.
« Reply #4 on: May 25, 2006, 06:15:50 PM »
Across the hall of the Ipatiev house, the four grand duchesses were awakening.  Stretching and yawning, they began their usual morning ritual of brushing their hair and dressing.  Soon they would wash up in the house’s old bathroom, escorted by Bolshevik troops who during the short but seemingly endless journey would taunt them, write mean and disgusting things on the wall and sneer behind their backs.  Still they were strong enough to take such abuse; the soldiers though mentally violent hadn’t physically hurt them.  And they hoped with all their might that it would never happen.  
      They were pure examples of beauty.  Olga was the eldest, though sometimes she never acted it.  Almost twenty-two, she was radiant in the stages of womanhood.  Her complexion was similar to that of her mother’s.  Her eyes were a silk shade of brown, as was her hair which had been shortened to a bun that ran ear-length when she turned sixteen.  The declared age of maturity. Olga had a sense of charm that no one could mimic; she was very generous and kindhearted to others.  Once she was driving along the Nevsky Prospect in St. Petersburg, looking out her carriage window she spied a boy hobbling on the street in crutches.  She took pity on him and instructed the driver to ask on his condition.  The boy stated that his parents could not afford the medical treatment.  Then and there, Olga promised that she would take care of the bills.  Like her other sisters, she longed for friends but made none due to her parents constant babying. When Olga was set on achieving something, she would go to nearly any means to achieve it, even if she had to rear her dark side. Her temper was one thing that even her father the Tsar couldn’t control sometimes.  
      Tatiana wasn’t far behind at twenty.  The most mature of the four sisters, they dubbed her ‘The Governess’ because she had always looked out for her siblings and tried her best to keep them from getting hurt and or in trouble.  Not only that, she also meant to take control of situations if they had gotten out of hand.  She was the most reserved of the sisters and much more mannered…taking to society life as soon as she could walk.  She was an avid fan of fashion, always designing dresses and gowns she had hoped that one day she would own.  Like Olga, she pitifully longed for companions but often shrank back to her parents, with whom she was more revered.  She was considered by many in the Romanov court to be the most elegant, from head to toe.  
      Marie had turned nineteen in late June.  She was an everyday happy girl with a witty and sometimes adult sense of humor.  She was the most maternal of the group, she had loved to sit and talk with palace soldiers and talk about their families and children.  Whenever relatives or friends with children would visit, Marie would instinctively cuddle, coo and play with every baby, fussing over them when they had to leave.  The rich and royal lifestyle she was born into never really fazed her too much.  Growing up she never discussed how she would live in society, instead she wanted more than anything to marry a man in uniform and have many babies.  Her more interesting characteristic was her strength.  It was said she could lift her language tutors like dolls.  Obviously she had inherited the surprising characteristic from her grandfather, Tsar Alexander III.  Marie’s most mesmerizing feature was her eyes.  They were great big blue orbs of love and sweetness, the complete opposite of Medusa’s gaze.  Everyone called them ‘Marie’s Saucers’. Many argue that she had been the most beautiful of the girls.
Finally there was Anastasia, only seventeen.  The most famous and infamous (depending on who you were) of the Romanov children.  Anastasia had been a tom-boy through and through for all of her short life thus far.  Though she had a big heart, a goofy smile and a cute personality, she also had a hard reputation for being a mimic, a prankster and an infamous teaser to anyone, especially Marie whom she battered over and over for her boy-crazy behavior.  Anastasia was also the family rule breaker, often times interrupting meetings with her father’s advisors, visiting heads of state and even family. Even if it seemed hurtful, Anastasia’s playfulness was designed to make people laugh.  She would stand around a corner or even sometimes directly behind the person she was mimicking and do an incredible impersonation.  One of her direct victims of tease was her parent’s cousin, Wilhelm, the Kaiser of Germany, Russia’s arch-rival in Europe at the turn of the century.  
      All of the children had lived lives of simplistic measures.  Though they were indeed royalty, they were never pompous or spoiled to the point of selfishness.  They handed down their clothes to the younger siblings, would trade jewelry and toys.  They never ordered anyone around; instead they politely asked for assistance or simply sent forth a message to a servant or guard.  They slept on iron cot-beds, took English baths and ate Russian peasant food, very rarely dining on exquisite cuisines except for state events.  They were tutored in four different languages, history, math and other essential educational subjects.  They loved to draw, paint, play the piano and balalaika.  On boring days they would write endlessly in their journals or take photographs, which was becoming a fashionable hobby in Europe.  Their mother as well as their female intuition influenced their work in charities.  

TheAce1918

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #5 on: May 25, 2006, 06:17:29 PM »
.  During the opening years of the war, the Tsarina, Alexandra had enrolled herself as well as Olga and Tanya as Red Cross nurses.  She also converted several imperial palaces into hospitals.  The girls had inherited fortunes when they were born, but the money was safely tucked in banks all over Europe and America.  Instead they got small allowances for pocket money, never purchasing anything too extravagant, they often shopped in basic stores buying perfume, writing paper, diaries and camera film. If not, they simply donated what little they were given to those who needed it.
      The youngest of the Romanov children was the Tsarevich, Aleksey who was only thirteen.  When he was born in 1904, he was the prime focal point of Russia.  The Empire was suffering greatly from her war with Japan, revolutionaries were calling for reform and the country was sliding deeper and deeper into depression.  The birth of the heir to the throne, to some, was just the key to straighten out Mother Russia.  But there was a grim secret that played itself out in the grand halls of the imperial palace at Tsarskoe Selo (The Tsar’s Village).  When the baby was a few weeks old, he began bleeding from the naval.  His mother fearing the worst called in the imperial physicians to check him out.  Her fears were realized when ‘Baby’ contracted hemophilia from Alexandra.  It was the imperial curse disease that spread through Europe, affecting only the sons of mothers who were carriers of the condition.  Alexandra knew first hand about hemophilia, several of her relatives from Germany and England had died from it, and now she had passed it unintentionally to the future Tsar.  Like his older sisters, Aleksey lived a usual grand life, but with tightened security around the clock.  It came to the point where he was mostly kept bundled up in the palace or publicly flanked by two imperial navy ‘nannies’ whose direct job was to protect to the prince.  Though he needed it, Aleksey would constantly find ways to act like other children.  Whenever he asked for a bicycle, a large party or even a simple round of just playing about, his mother would often reply “But darling, you know you cannot…”  Which would force Aleksey to stare back hurt, finally one day he bellowed to his mother and sisters, “Why?  Why cannot I be like other boys?”  Before they could come up with an answer, he turned away and ran to his room crying.  The five women of his life, stood helpless and heartbroken.  It was a secret they all guarded since he was a newborn.
  For those that personally knew them, one would say that the imperial children were the closest siblings they had ever seen.  And even though their parents wove a protecting barrier for them against the outside world, they all had cringing desires to sprout wings and soar.  
      When war broke out in August of 1914, Russia was, like the kingdoms of Germany, Austria-Hungary, Britain and the Republic of France, ecstatic.  The sense of nationalism, God, Tsar and country rode with the people of the ancient state of Russia.  Like many on the continent, the high hopes of the future overshadowed the real problems that had engulfed Russia since the middle ages.  The effects of an imperialistic rule over the people, the conditions of the harsh industrial revolution as well as the social reforms that were mutating Europe.  The people hoped that their Tsar would be better to them, after all he was the ‘little father’ of Russia, surely he could feed his starving peasants and loyalists while at the same time maintain an empire that covered a sixth of the world’s land.  
      None of it was meant to be, Nicholas was a man who easily sided with his aides and generals on extremely serious issues, often times confiding in the empress with many of his decisions.  As a child, Nicholas Romanov was never really educated on governing power and state politics, hence his political weaknesses.  He simply resorted to the old ways of rule.  With the Tsar refusing political reform and the conditions of Russian peasant life never changing, the Great War only brought everything to the breaking point. Russian forces invaded Germany and Austria, silencing the Austro-Hungarians for a short time, while being defeated at Tannenberg by the Germans.  Over Russia’s three year participation, loss after loss mounted over the Nicholas’s impending workload.  He took direct control of the army, believing that he should command his men to a victory that some at home believed would never come.  And it never did.  On February 15, 1917, Tsar Nicholas II abdicated his throne in his name, and Aleksey’s name, fearing too well that with his son’s weak health he would never be able to control things.  He left the throne to his brother Michael who refused it and gave it up after a day.  Russia then became a democratic nation under the leadership of revolutionaries headed by Alexander Kerensky…also the pet-project of a parliament (The Duma) was re-established as an important diplomatic institute.  At first, the royal family was kept under house arrest at Tsarskoe Selo; Kerensky’s plan was to have them successfully exiled to another nation most likely Britain.  However the British government feared revolution themselves and stopped such plans.  Other nations such as Japan, Greece and France too halted talks.  Another possible evacuation point was America, but, like Europe everything was postponed due to America’s entry into the war that year.  

Continue?
      
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by TheAce1918 »

Offline Holly

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #6 on: May 25, 2006, 07:14:09 PM »
Yes, please post more!  :)
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TheAce1918

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #7 on: May 25, 2006, 07:43:53 PM »
When the Bolsheviks overthrew the Kerensky republic, the Romanovs had been transported to the city of Tobolsk for safety, but the Ural Soviets had gained control of the area and the family was placed under their power.  The leader of the Bolsheviks, Lenin, had ordered the family to be moved to the city of Yekaterinburg, where the Ural Soviet was practicing martial law.  By late May 1918, the Romanovs were living an imprisoned, simplistic life…obviously much different from the one they had left two years previous.  

      By this time, Tsarist loyalists had gathered all over Russia in an attempt to destroy the communist uprising that had been sweeping the nation.  Soldiers and Cossacks from the regions of Poland, Ukraine and the Czech region (all Russian proctorates) formed an army aligned with special troops from major allied powers of the Great War.  They had gathered at strong points in the cities of Archangel, Vladivostok and the Eastern Crimean region.  Special units were designed to blend in with the Russian people, to get and understanding of the current conditions or the land and obviously to destroy Red strongholds.  
      Charlie had been amongst the veterans gathered in Siberia.      In reality he was based secretly in a British held town called Chelyabinsk.  The public census was that America was not only fighting the godless commies, but mainly protecting her interests in Russia on account of the rising Japanese expansion in the Russo/Manchurian regions.  Charlie was placed with the 105th fighter squadron of the 1st Ghost Corps.  A fictional name based on intelligence and the national securities of Britain and the Untied States.  It was commanded by Major-General William S. Dawson of the British Army.  On the whole, the Ghost Corps were mercenaries, trained killers whose sole duty it was to fight whoever they were told to fight.  In this instance, it was the Reds and the primary objective of rescue was the Romanov family in Yekaterinburg.  Intelligence from loyalists and fearful locals was effective and ironic in terms of the location of the imperial family and the secret air base which was makeshift.  Its runway was a dirt road; the hangars that housed the six planes were mere rotted-out barns.  But the cover-up tactics worked so well, hardly anyone outside the town of Chelyabinsk knew of anything.  

      Charlie clamped his eyes shut; instinctively knowing he was going to die.  Instead a voice whispered in very rough English.
      “Are you a White?”  
      Charlie raised his head up slowly, straining to see who it was that was holding a gun to his back.  “Yes.”  
      “Slava bogu!”  (Thanks be to God)  The rifleman handed Charlie his arm, helping the shaken captain up.  Charlie dusted himself off and turned to the person who now identified himself.  “Forgive me, my name is Yuri Graveka, I am an artillery observer for the Czech White forces around this area.  We have been bombing the nearby towns for some time.”  
      “Captain Charlie Andrews, United States Expeditionary Force-Siberia.  I am a fighter pilot.”  Charlie said shaking Yuri’s hand.  He was a burly man, with brown curly hair and a grin that reminded Charlie of a pirate.  
      “A pilot?”  Yuri asked with curious eyes.  “You were one of the men flying in the air early this morning, no?”  
      Charlie nodded, telling Yuri everything that had happened.  Then the big Russian asked the inevitable.  
      “What is your mission here captain?”  
      Charlie hesitated to answer; he knew these were classified orders only known by his superiors not only in Archangel, but in London and Washington as well.  Yuri detected the young American’s reluctance and offered.  
      “You can trust me captain, I am only an officer myself in an artillery regiment.  We are both allies, no?”  
      “Of course we are, however my orders have come from the highest authority and…”  
      “You are here to help rescue the Romanov family?”  
      Charlie froze; he hadn’t exactly been given those orders.  But as far as he was concerned, he was dead.  No one back at base would believe he could have survived, so instead he just nodded. The Russian took his shoulder, gripping it hard and quietly laughing.  
      “Comrade!  Finally we get a little help down here!”  Charlie looked up confused at the man’s honesty and friendliness.  Knowingly, the Russian continued.
      “The artillery speech was merely a cover up captain, though my name is real my occupation is not.  I am a special forces operative, underneath an experiment with the Whites to test Bolshevik strength in the Ural Mountains.  Apparently, they are rather well garrisoned.”
      “Yes, flying over, I could have sworn I had found the house where the royal family is said to be hidden, it is fortified primitively but well manned.”  
      The Russian nodded, setting his sights on the Ipatiev House, it’s white paint glowing in the fresh sunlight.  The two men studied the mansion intensively, knowing full well that getting in and out within a half hour’s time would be almost impossible.  
      “Come,” The Russian whispered, interrupting Charlie’s thoughts.  “We must seek shelter, daylight will expose us.  Later tonight, we will act!”  
Yuri had led him down a forested path, not far from where they were standing; he knocked on the forest floor several times in a hard rap.  After a second, a secret door popped open and someone inside demanded a password.  Yuri whispered it and they were shown in.  The men were led down a half-sized dark tunnel.

TheAce1918

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #8 on: May 25, 2006, 07:45:28 PM »
When they reached the main room, Charlie was surprised to find several other soldiers who greeted them as they walked in.  The air was stale and tight, it felt like a coal mine just to walk through.  When they entered the center room, they found many other men and women scurrying about sending off messages from one point to another.  On a makeshift wall was the Russian Imperial tri-color, flanking it were the portraits of Nicholas and Alexandra.  
      “We have been operating here since the Romanovs were relocated to Yekaterinburg in May.  Some locals who are still loyal to the Tsar had supplied us with countless, precious bits of information in regards to the stronghold of the mansion we had just seen together.”  Yuri said, reading the latest reports from the telegraphs.  Charlie looked around; setting his ammo bag and two guns on a nearby table, on it was a small Victorian record player was droning the familiar Russian composer, Tchaikovsky.  
      “Yuri, what did you mean that later tonight, we would act?”  The Russian only grinned at him.  
      “I will tell you after breakfast, are you hungry Captain Andrews?”  

      “Don’t you ever touch my daughter again, I don’t care who you are!”  Nicholas bellowed when Marie ran to him, eyes bursting with tears, her white gown ripped.  The guard only sneered at the two and walked away, laughing once he was out of sight.  
      “That big ape, I hope he falls down the stairs and breaks his neck!”  Anastasia hoarsely whispered to Marie.  
      “Anastasia Nicholaievna!”  Nicholas bristled.  The youngest daughter lowered her head, apologizing, knowing that when her parents used her first name and patronymic name in that tone, they were serious.  Olga had witnessed the whole thing with teary eyes; she dashed back into their room, throwing herself on the makeshift mattress.  
      “Please dear God!”  She moaned in prayer, her tears smearing across her skinny pillow.  “Please save and have mercy on us, I beg of you.”  
“So, now do you understand the true nature of this mission?”  Within two hours, Yuri had successfully taught Charlie everything there was to know about the history of Russia, from Ivan the Terrible to Nicholas II.  His studies were more concentrated on loose Russian and the story of the current Romanov family.  Yuri had shown Charlie dozens of pictures of the royal family.  The picture that caught Charlie’s attention right away was the picture of the four grand duchesses in 1906.  They were around ten, eight, six and five at the time, but their innocent gazes shot through his heart.  
      “These girls are by far the most adorable little things I have ever seen!  Why would someone want to do them harm, I can understand the Bolsheviks being mad at their father but why these precious babies?” He thought to himself.  He felt a pity for them, after hearing the accounts about them, the idea that every member of the family was ruthless was beyond stupid.  Then Yuri showed Charlie the most recent group photo, this one had Aleksey in it.  Charlie’s eyes were again wide.  The girls had bloomed into beautiful women, especially Marie; her gorgeous eyes melted him on the spot.  Aleksey, though a hemophiliac was in rather good shape for a future emperor.  He did notice the wear of fatigue on Alexandra’s face; the poor woman had tried her best to win the hearts of the Russian people and the Russian court.  But her shyness and reluctance had cast her as an ‘evil German’ amongst the populace.  The worry in her eyes indicated the hell she must have gone through, pushing herself to protect Aleksey as much as possible, she was by his side at every moment he was severely ill.  
      Then came Rasputin, the infamous monk from Siberia had managed to win the heart of the queen, as she was into the occult and all things religious.  The man was on the whole, creepy.  His beard had not been shaved since it first grew in on him, bits and pieces of food hung from its gray hairs.  His eyes were deep, piercing and hollow with red indicating the nature of an alcoholic.  
      “He was the worst thing to happen to Mother Russia!”  Yuri exclaimed.  “While the Tsar was being misguided, he was fucking two bit prostitutes!”  The nature of the seemingly ‘holy man’ startled Charlie.  The fact that Rasputin had a reputation for easy women, the bottle and mental fallacies did not compare to the Rasputin who would magically perform prayers at Aleksey’s bedside, later going to his parents and saying, “The little one will survive.”  And surely enough, the next morning, Aleksey had survived and his health would improve greatly over time.   When Rasputin was murdered in 1916 by the Tsar’s cousin Prince Felix Yussupov, a shockwave overthrew Russia; rumors that the Tsarina slept with the devious holy man only bleached her image that so many contorted, she was then known as, ‘the German bitch’. Before his death, Rasputin gave the imperial family one last vision.  He envisioned that Russia would revolt against the Romanovs, they would be overthrown and murdered within two years time and Russia herself would enter a bleak and harrowing period.  So far, the man was right, except for the murders, which Yuri and his comrades had hoped to prevent.  
      “Tonight Charlie, we take action against the Soviets and rescue our beloved royal family from certain damnation!  I have arranged for a few artillery guns to level the town once we escape, it will cut off the Red counter-offensive if there are enough of them to do so!  

TheAce1918

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #9 on: May 25, 2006, 07:47:34 PM »
Remember, speed is the key to this mission comrade.”  Yuri promised with pride.  
      “Where would we take them?”  Charlie asked, stuffing his ammo bag with new and more ammunition.  He could see by the look on the Russian’s face, they hadn’t thought about it, they never even thought they would make it to the point they currently were in, on the outskirts of the Ipatiev house.  They were fueled by only hope.  
      “As far away from Russia as possible Charlie.”  Yuri said grimly, foreseeing the large task ahead of them.  “As far away as possible.”  


      Yakov Yurovsky had been impatient the last few days.  He had carefully planned out his method of dealing with the Tsar and his family.  When the Bolsheviks overthrew Kerensky and his fledgling government, Yurovsky wanted to slay the imperial family right then and there.  Sending a telegram to Moscow, where the new capital of Russia sat, he pleaded with their glorious leader, Vladimir Lenin, for orders on the dealing of the ‘dangerous’ Tsar.  The fear of White invasion had become a reality and their armies were marching closer to Yekaterinburg, if Nicholas and his family were rescued, it practically would mean the end of the revolution politically.  This, he could not allow.  
      He walked down the lane towards the fortified Ipatiev house; he stared at the guards by the front door.  He didn’t even acknowledge them saluting as he made his way up the stone steps.  Turning the handle he entered the grand mansion, a stale flush of air hit his face.  He had remembered that he only recently allowed the Romanovs to open a window for fresh air but strictly warned them not to go near the window, as snipers were watching the house closely.  Letting out a long breath he closed the door shut behind him.  At the end of the marble hall, sat another guard, only armed with a pistol.  The man jumped when Yurovsky walked in, the soldier saluted him sternly.  
      “Are you set for tonight?”  
      “Tonight sir?”  The soldier asked puzzled.  Yurovsky held up the reply telegram from Moscow.  
      “They gave the signal.”  He informed with a grin.  Sure, he loved murder, it was for the revolution and it was orders from the glorious leader.  So be it.  The soldier smiled widely, nodding his head.  
      “Shall I tell the other men?”  
      “No, wait until later…I will be gathering a squad up this evening to finish the job.  I inspected the basement earlier and chose it to be the spot.  Is it cleared off as I asked?”  
      “Yes comrade Yurovsky.”  
      “Good…now I shall go address them.”  He hated saying their name, he despised everything about them.  No wonder today would be a good day; he was finally given the order to rid Russia and the world of these…disgusting examples of the state.  Walking past a support beam, decorated in late Victorian fashion, he knocked on the door twice.  
      “Come in.”  A voice floated from inside.  Yurovsky walked in, finding the Romanov family at seat with an early supper.  Nicholas stood in greeting to the executive officer in charge of them at the ‘house of special purpose’.  Yurovsky nodded towards him and Nicholas resumed his seat.  None of the children even paid him attention, nor did the empress or the servants or even Dr. Botkin, the family physician who was busy away at reading an old state newspaper.  
      “The nuns from the church have brought you fresh eggs.”  Yurovsky said, his voice hinting no emotion, he set the basket down next to the door.
      “We thank thee much.”  Nicholas said.  Yurovsky turned to leave, noticing the large wall and its built-in fish tank. Dozens of colorful fish were swimming away without a care in the world, oblivious to the events that would take place later that night.  He always liked that fish tank.  Then he closed the door and walked back to the soldier in the hallway.  
      “Get a large group of men, around thirteen and meet me in the basement in five minutes.”  He ordered.  The soldier nodded and walked off into another maze of rooms and halls, quietly calling the names of soon to be participants.  Sitting down, lighting a cigarette, he smiled to himself, blowing a stem of smoke into the already stale air.  
17 July 1918


      The church tower signaled midnight as Charlie, Yuri and the squad of ten men headed slowly through the woods to the Ipatiev house.  Before they left, Yuri gave Charlie the sole command of the safety of the Romanovs.  Sure it seemed like a rather large load to carry on his shoulders, but he was armed with an automatic rifle, a shotgun and enough explosives to blow up a decent bridge. He was an American soldier, he could handle the job.
      The soldiers were armed to the teeth with knives, grenades, various explosives, rifles and pistols.  Charlie lugged his BAR, moaning at its weight. Since he was in Russia, he hoped the gun would work decently; he couldn’t wait to try it out.  His memory informed him that it was still a secret weapon; many tests were needed to confirm its effectiveness in combat.  Charlie was about to do just that.  
  As they neared the main street, they saw the two guards resuming their position by the front door.  Yuri held his hand up, signaling a halt.  Then he whispered for two men to go and take the guards out.  
      Like ninjas, they leapt from bush to bush, completely unknown to their next victims.  When they reached the open gate, the peeked through.  No one was there.  

TheAce1918

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #10 on: May 25, 2006, 07:49:09 PM »
One of the soldiers made a quiet sound that attracted the attention to one of the guards.  The Bolshevik walked over, gun loaded, curious.  When the Red reached the trap, the soldier grabbed his neck and snapped it like a twig.  One down, another to go.  The other soldier, a Mongolian, held a large crossbow in his hands.  Taking a stealthy aim at the guard’s head, he pulled back on the mighty bow and released the poison tipped arrow.  With a silent whoosh the arrow dug itself directly into the Red’s skull; he dropped like a rock onto the porch.  Charlie watched it all with amazement; the most amazing thing was…not a soul had seen it happen.  The two Mongolians waved the rest of the squad over.  Using the night for cover, and dirt to darken their faces, the troops silently flew over the street and into the large front yard of the Ipatiev house.  The next challenge…was getting in.  

      Yurovsky sat at the oak table, puffing away another paper pack of cigarettes.  He gazed over at his Mauser pistol.  He originally ordered a Colt 45 but he dropped the order choosing the German gun because it was cheaper. It sat on the table, lifeless, stone cold, its shadow elongated from the fireplace that was slowly dying out.  Yurovsky couldn’t help but chuckle.  Things around him were dead, his gun, the fire and soon…the Romanovs.  Then a knock came to the door.  Yurovsky jumped up, slapping himself on the knee for being so childish; putting out the cigarette he walked over to the door.  When he opened it, only darkness answered, no one was there.  Scratching his head, he closed it believing he was now hearing things.  
  A loud cry rang through the first floor.  This time, Yurovsky didn’t hit himself for being scared.  He bolted back over to the table, picked up his Mouser and loaded it.  Carefully, he walked down the hall, calling out the name of the man he heard scream.
      “Ivan?”  No response, only silence.  The Soviet trembled as he walked around the halls, only lit by dim candlelight.  When he reached the end of the hall, he saw something that nearly made him wet himself.  Hanging on the hallway’s end wall was Ivan, impaled through the stomach with a large knife.  Rivers of fresh blood cascaded from his body and onto the floor, making a disgusting dripping sound.  
      Yurovsky thought he would vomit, until he felt the butt-end of a gun slam down on his head.  Then nothing.  

      “Good job comrades.”  Yuri congratulated his team.  They successfully penetrated the house and its defenses.  The leader was out cold and the second man in charge was now a wall decoration.  None of the orders for the execution squad were delivered, so none of the men were ready.  They hoped.  
  “We have to split into two teams, a defense and attack force, both must split up and search the house, if and when you come across the Romanovs, calmly wake them, give them no time to change but allow them to gather a few of their belongings.  Once that is done, have them meet at the front door.  We shall leave the way we came.  Remember the empress and young prince are ill, we need provisions for them.”  
      Charlie had never seen anything like what those Mongolians did; one thing was for sure, he was glad he was on their side.  He took command of the upstairs squad while Yuri took the downstairs squad; they were to rig the house with timed explosives set to go off once the house was evacuated. With another handshake; they split up and silently searched the house.  Strangely, there were no more guards, they must have been outside.  Of course it would be more difficult getting out than in.  They searched every room in the house, until they came across another darkened hallway.  One of the troopers found two wheelchairs abandoned at the end of a hallway, the men knew who they belonged to and quietly ushered them to the center of the room.  They spotted a figure walking down the hall at a rather quick pace.  They cocked their guns, aiming at the silhouette.  
      “Please don’t shoot!”  The figure whispered in panic.  
      “Who are you?”  Charlie demanded.  
      “Dr. Botkin of course!”  Charlie was shocked; he had run into the Romanov’s principal doctor, Eugene Botkin.  He walked over to the startled man, lowering his rifle and extending his free hand.  
      “Dr. Botkin, we are here to rescue you and the imperial family.  Please remain calm.  Go in and inform them that they have no time to change but they may gather their essential belongings, we are in a hurry.”  
      “Slava bogu!”  The man whispered happily as he quietly entered the room.  Charlie turned to the other men who were awaiting instructions.  
      “Alright boys, keep a close eye out for anything suspicious.  Keep quiet and don’t attack unless attacked upon.”  He ordered nodding to their guns.  The troops nodded, immediately taking defense positions.  What took a few minutes seemed like hours.  But eventually one by one, the Romanovs, led by Dr. Botkin and their servants quietly exited the room.  Charlie was amazed by them.  Only earlier he had only known them as photographs and now here they were in person.  

TheAce1918

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #11 on: May 25, 2006, 07:50:41 PM »
Alexandra walked slowly, she leaned on a cane.  Tatiana had helped her as much as she could down the hall.  Nicholas carried Aleksey, who earlier became ill again.  
      “Where are we going Papa?”  The boy asked in his father’s arms.  
      “Just go back to sleep my son, I will tell you in the morning.”  The boy obeyed his father and was soon fast asleep again.  His face buried in Nicholas’ shoulder.  The Tsar looked at Charlie hard, with distrusting eyes.  Charlie picked up on the look.  
      “Relax, I’m American.”  
      “American?”  Nicholas said bewildered.  “What are American’s doing in Russia?”  Charlie didn’t answer, but waved the former Tsar by with his heavy rifle.  The other soldiers notified the others in Russian what was going to happen soon and that they must remain calm and quiet during this.  Alexandra sat down in her wheel chair, exhaling quietly as Tatiana and Olga brought up her sides.  On the whole, the escape should take no more than fifteen minutes at best. Hearing footsteps, the soldiers again took defensive positions in front of the Romanovs.  Yuri slowly walked in, found the entire party and smile.  
      “Well done comrade!  Well done indeed!”  He said to Charlie, who stood by the window, peering out into the dark unknown.  Yuri faced the Tsar and bowed to him, saying something in Russian which Nicholas promptly replied.  Then Yuri walked over to Charlie.  “Now comes the hardest part.”  
      “Getting out.”  Charlie said, not taking his eyes away from the window.  He knew that the whole garrison of guards would be on their heels if they made a loud escape.  But to evacuate nearly twenty or so people from a narrow pass without being seen or heard was next to impossible.  
      “Yes,” Yuri replied, taking the same view with Charlie.  “I have ordered a train to take them all the way to Kiev, and then from there, another train will travel to Livadia where the British heavy cruiser HMS Sword is waiting.  And from there, the Sword will take you and the Romanov party to Greece then Egypt and finally into British hands.”  
      Charlie nodded, taking in all the information to memory.  He suddenly remembered who all was behind him.  Spinning around he saw every one of them.  Nicholas, Alexandra, Aleksey, Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia and finally Marie, who looked as radiant as ever.  At least to Charlie.  Anastasia was the first of the grand duchesses to speak to him.  
      “Zdravsvuyte (Hello). Are you really from America?”  
      But Charlie didn’t answer her, he instead looked at Yuri.  “When are we leaving?”  
      Yuri gave a sad smile.  “Right now.”  One by one, each family member and assisting personnel had been given instructions on whom to partner up with.  They would travel two by two down the fifty or so yard path leading to the woods where at the end of them, a bus was waiting.  The Mongolians tenderly opened the door, peeking out into the darkness.  So far, so good, they gingerly stepped out of the house and like the soldiers instructed them to, walked in perfect pairs down the path.  Aleksey was still asleep in Nicholas’ arms; Alexandra was quickly wheeled in her chair by one of the troopers.  Her legs and back had cut her ability to walk much.  Charlie brought up the rear; he quietly looked around, his heavy BAR was more than ready to spew nails into the Reds if he had to.  But nothing happened.  They all made it to the woods safely and once the entire party was together, Yuri gave the signal to press on.  He never got to open his mouth.  A bullet whisked through his neck, killing him instantly.  Falling to the ground, panic gave way to terror as the Romanov clan dived down for cover.  Almost simultaneously bullets began digging themselves into the bodies of the once loyal servants and the ailing Eugene Botkin.  Charlie spun around after seeing the chaos.  His finger pressed on the trigger on his BAR, the massive squad gun roared to life, throwing tiny fireballs at whoever shot Yuri.  
      The only thing Charlie could register at that exact moment, was that all hell was breaking loose.    

Okay, that be the second chapter....
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 06:00:00 PM by TheAce1918 »

Offline Laura Mabee

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2
« Reply #12 on: May 25, 2006, 11:12:53 PM »
Quote
What's that supposed to mean?  Oi, I warned that it was a huge story.  I only switched threads so no one got confused thats all.  But alright, I will keep it on the same thread...the one thats labled CH2...it will just continue from there.  

As far as the title is concerned...I had it narrowed down to 2.  
One Night in July
and
Change of Fate

Peace
What I was saying is that it's best to keep your story all together. I have renamed the thread until you think you've chosen a title, and will then rename it accordingly.

TheAce1918

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Re: Romanov Fan Fiction CH2 + Plus
« Reply #13 on: May 26, 2006, 11:08:32 AM »
Ze title iz

A Night in July

I shall rename it when I post chapter 3 later on

TheAce1918

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A Night in July CH3 + Plus
« Reply #14 on: May 26, 2006, 02:40:51 PM »
“Get down now!”  Charlie screamed in between the rattled shots.  The Romanovs beat him to the call, throwing themselves onto the wet soil, gasping for air.  Aleksey was shaken awake as Nicholas gently set him down behind a rock.  Terrified by all the excitement the prince began to cry hysterically, calling out for various people from his sisters to his mother.  Olga slowly joined him behind the rock, miraculously dodging the bullets that zipped past her.   The two held each other tight, as Nicholas, not too far away consoled them every so while.  Alexandra herself was quickly wheeled further into the woods but at a distance where she could see what was happening.  
      The other grand duchesses hadn’t moved since Yuri dropped dead before them.  They wanted to scream, wanted to cry but nothing came out.  The shock of actual combat was beyond too much for them; instead they kept their faces buried in the ground.  
      Charlie was furiously firing away every magazine he had.  
      “Great shooting comrade!”  One of the Mongolians came up to him, he pointed out where he saw the first shot.  “Try and hit that small tower over…”  He never finished his sentence, for he too was caught dead by a sniper’s bullet.  Charlie bellowed in anger and leashed out another full magazine towards the direction of the tower.  After an entire magazine had finished, the tower remained silent.  The rest of the soldiers began chucking grenades and small explosives in the direction from whence they came.  Each bomb claiming a Red or three.  The Soviets able to fire back, did so with rifle and machine gun fire.  The bullets zipped in every direction, making funny sounds that reminded Charlie of the Fourth of July.  Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
      “What?”  He yelled amongst the chaos.  
      “The charges are set to go off in three…two…”  
      And in a blinding light, the Ipatiev house exploded into a mass hysteria of fire and flying wood that nearly decimated all of the Red force occupying it.  A huge shockwave rolled over the soldiers; they whooped and hollered at the carnage.  Charlie turned to the other Mongolian, a smile on his face.  He shook the Asian’s hand.  No sooner had the large mansion exploded, did the large artillery shells miles away start to land nearby.  The thunderous car-sized bombs slammed into the ground, uprooting trees, men and whatever buildings they claimed.  The troopers left their front line and joined the Romanovs.  Charlie found Aleksey and Olga, still glued together.  The boy was in hysterics from the loud explosions and rattled gunfire.  Bending down, Charlie patted his head.  
      “It’s okay.  We’re gonna get out of here soon.  I promise.”  
      “Make it stop!  Please make it stop.  Oh!  For the love of God please!”  The prince screamed, trembling in Olga’s arms from the most horrendous example of firepower any of them had ever witnessed.    
      “Pull back!  Pull back!”  One of the Russian soldiers commanded.  Each of the Romanovs got up, not even bothering to dust themselves off, and continued to move.  The rest of the squad followed in escort.  Charlie took one last look at Yuri and the first Mongolian, peace strewn about their faces.  He also noticed the other faces as well.  A girl, possibly in her teens, an older man and a peasant boy.  At the end was Dr. Botkin, his eyes closed likewise with his hands which were clasped over his quiet chest.  They all lay strewn out amongst Yuri and the Mongolian, bullets riddled in their bodies, the consequence for being human barriers.  Charlie quietly saluted them then took chase after the party.  
Amidst the burning skeleton that was the Ipatiev house, what remained of the Soviet garrison in Yekaterinburg gathered themselves up, anger and chaos littered the streets.  The men still dodged the oncoming slaughter of hellfire that was obviously an early wake-up call from the Czech forces nearly twenty miles away.  The third man in command immediately took charge, ordering two large trucks and as many men as they could find to chase after the escapees.  As the trucks roared away, men crying in revolution, a lone figure climbed out of a mass heap of rubble.  His arm broken, his lips cut and his head swelling in pain.  He gazed out at what was once the fort that held the imperial family, ruined, his focus was then shifted to the two large trucks, ambling their way towards the Romanovs.  He opened his mouth but nothing came out…he all of a sudden felt left out.  Taking one painful step after another, he hobbled his way to a vacant car, turning the ignition he let the vehicle hum to life.  Putting it in drive, the man set out on his own direction to follow the Romanovs.