It was a cold winter night, the snow falling over the small town. Empty chimneys covered in ice. A white mound hiding rusting husks. A quiet factory with broken windows. Nothing stirred here, save one. Light shone through the windows where once children laughed and teachers shouted.

Bob shuffled, silently cursing at the tingling feeling shooting through his left leg. A desk designed for elementary school kids was not an ideal seat for a grown man. But well, he had it better than most. He wasn’t sure whether to feel more sorry for Ivan or the bulging metal frame desperately trying to hold in such massive thighs.

“Ok, I will now explain the secret plan.”

At the front of the room, stood the Red Colonel. He had on a red beret, a smoove red mask with no features except holes for his eyes, and a green uniform with hundreds of metal pins and ribbons attached to the front. Surely, the most distinguished officer the KGB had ever produced.

Ivan raised his hand. The Red Colonel sighed.

“Yes, Ivan?”

“I am confused. Why are we assassinating the premier? Shouldn't KGB protect the premier? Also, why must we speak English?”

The Red Colonel sighed again.

“You see, Ivan, the current premier is counter revolutionary. He makes friends with capitalist pig dogs, ends the Cold War, and worst of all cuts the KGB budget. We must remove traitors to protect the glorious Soviet Union.”

Ivan thought for a moment but slowly nodded.

“And English?”

The Red Colonel turned back to the blackboard and grabbed a piece of chalk.

“That is part of the secret plan, which I will now explain if Ivan stops interrupting.”

The Red Colonel drew a stick figure on the board.

“Ok here is the premier, meeting capitalist pig dogs for dinner. We will sneak into the basement with the secret weapon: death ray we found in a conveniently abandoned US military warehouse. We then use the stage lift to bring the death ray in front of the premiere and shoot him while speaking English. Everyone thinks we are CIA and goes ‘oh no, not the premier!’ Cold War restarts and I…” The Red Colonel coughed. “WE get a raise. Anyone have questions besides Ivan? Yes, Sergei?”

Sergei put his hand down.

“What if American Death Ray doesn’t work?”

The Red Colonel nodded his head.

“Da, that is a very likely problem. Which is why I have also prepared American weapons. If the death ray fails, we will rush in and shoot Premier. Be careful not to shoot any capitalist pig-dogs and absolutely no Russian. Any other questions?”

The helmeted minions, err, elite KGB operatives shook their heads.

“Good. Go get ready, the plan starts tonight.”

Bob walked over and patted Ivan on the shoulder.

“You all right?”

Ivan glanced up at Bob. Bob swore he could see the smile under the man’s masked helmet.

“Ah, friend Bob. Da, I just have many questions about the plan. Even if we speak English, will people not notice our accents? What if actual CIA is at dinner? And if the KGB kills the premier, aren't the KGB bad guys?”

Bob shrugged.

“The Red Colonel must have his reasons, he is not the KGB’s best officer for nothing. And even if we are the bad guys, it doesn’t mean you are a bad guy, Ivan.”

Ivan laughed and stood up, slapping Bob on the back and nearly knocking him to the ground.

“You are right, friend Bob. I think too much. I'm going to get ready for tonight, then after we get drinks, da?”

Bob nodded.

“Da.”

Voices rang out through the well-lit hall. Waiters in suits carried elegant glasses and dishes that were as carefully constructed as works of art. Well-groomed men in tuxedos and beautiful women in gorgeous gowns sat at tables covered in white cloths, with candles and flowers in their centers. An orchestra played a mellow, graceful tune upon a stage. At the opposite end of the banquet hall was a large table, which had American and Soviet flags draped over its front. At the table sat two older men, chatting and laughing. They were flanked by men in suits and sunglasses, standing at ease and scanning the room.

The latest tune finished, a polite applause sounding through the room. The musicians took a bow and carried their instruments off the stage. Another suited man took to the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a special announcement. We have a surprise performance! Please, direct your attention to the stage.”

The lights in the hall dimmed except for the stage lights, and the lights over the two leaders.

“This performance is straight from the U.S. of A. and dedicated to the glorious Premier of the Soviet Union. A celebration of this night of unity!”

The floors of the stage swung open. Cables moved as the stage lift began to rise.

Gasps rang out amongst the hall. One the stage was a large metal cylinder mounted on a stand. At its front ran a pole, flanked by metal circles. The pole ended with a perfectly round sphere. It was flanked by armored, helmeted soldiers holding M-16 assault rifles. One soldier held a box with a big red button.

“Straight from the Agency of Central Intelligence, it is Death Ray! Now die, foolish Premier!”

The button was pressed. The weapon charged. Lightning cracked around the circles and the pole. The sphere began to glow red, then yellow, then orange, then purple, and finally blue.

The air was torn apart. A crackling roar sounded through the hall. A beam of blue light pierced forward and the hall was covered in a blast of smoke.

And then a metallic voice sang out.

“Capacitor’s surging, checking connection.”

The smoke began to dissipate. A large silhouette formed through the fog, a glowing blue circle fading on its chest.

“Electrodes ready, rubber shoes in motion.”

Clank, clank, clank. The figure slowly stepped forward and came into view.

A large metal suit. Massive gray boots. A round helmet that blended into the chest piece with a single rectangular eye slit. A glowing blue device on the back, connected with wires to the wrist mounted tesla coils. A Red Star was painted on the center of the armored chest.

“Soviet power supreme, Tesla Titan is ready!”

Armored figures lifted their rifles and moved to attack. The sounds of gunshots rang. Windows shattered.

And the armored figures fell to the ground.

“Chew on this!”

A figure leapt through the window, rolling on the floor. She stood up and unleashed hell from the pistols in each of her hands. She had red hair and wore a green tank top with green camo pants.

Special Agent Tina had arrived.

Tesla Titan nodded as he held up his hand, lightning surging from his arms into a squad of attackers.

“Ah, American woman! Good to see you arrive. Only slightly late this time.”

“Shut it, commie.”

Agent Tina threw her arm back and fired while keeping her eyes forward. An attacker that had been sneaking up on the Premier fell to the ground.

“Ah, that was nice shot.”

“I’m the best there is.”

“Except when we fight at Budapest.”

“S-Shut it, we didn't actually fight. You just called an airstrike, that doesn’t count.”

“Is not good to be sore loser.”

Agent Tina ducked as the Tesla Titan fired a blast of lightning overhead. She spun around and gunned down a group trying to sneak behind the armored man.

“We are so having a rematch after this.”

The Premier was led by two agents to the garage. One held his hand up and the trio stopped, the two agents lifting their guns. A click. The lights turned on. The Premier smiled.

“Ah, Red Colonel, it is good you are here!”

The two agents lowered their guns.

And then the Red Colonel raised his and pulled the trigger.

The Premier took a step back as the agents fell to the ground.

“Colonel, what are you doing?”

“What am I doing, what are you doing, comrade Premier?”

The Red Colonel raised his gun.

“You meet with capitalist pig dogs. You smile while CIA gives weapons to our enemies. You talk of reform. But it is actually reaction. You are counterrevolutionary, Premier. And it is my job to stop counterrevolutionaries.”

The Red Colonel took aim.

The Premier shut his eyes and shielded his face with arms.

The sound of thunder.

A body hit the ground, blood streaming from the hole in the head.

It was the Red Colonel.

A squad of men in suits and sunglasses ran into the room, guns at the ready. They took up positions around the Premier. One of them stepped forward and took out a badge.

“Agent Wilson, CIA. Are you ok, Premier Gorbachev?”

The premier nodded.

“Da, thanks to you American agent. But now, I must think carefully about the KGB and the future of the Soviet Union.”

In the janitor’s office, an armored figure held up a radio and listened in.

“Eagle Five, this is Eagle Home. Papa Bear’s with the babysitters, thanks for the tip. Over.”

The figure nodded and replied.

“Eagle Home, this is Eagle Five. All in a day’s work, I’ll send you the bill. Over.”

“Copy that, Eagle Five. Eagle Home out.”

The figure put down the radio.

“Neither of you could stick with the target, could you? Too busy flirting, were you? Heroes are so annoying.”

Bob gathered the rest of his gear and exited the closet, heading out the back door. He tread through the snow until he found another armored figure, leaning back against a building and looking up at the moon.

“You all right, Ivan?”

The figure turned to look at him, slowly nodding after a moment.

“Da, da friend Bob. Just, a lot to think about tonight. I’m glad we fail, it did not feel right to kill the Premier. But now, Ivan is a traitor too, yea? KGB was only thing I’m good at.”

Bob thought for a moment.

“How about the private sector? I might know somebody.”

The wind howled across the empty tundra, both air and ground obscured by snow. Amidst it, two figures walked towards a small mound. One covered in a puffy white jacket and snow pants, trudging through the snow. The other, merely a thin silk shirt and thin silk pants. Yet, not a single snowflake landed upon her head, and not a single footprint was left in the snow behind her.

The two reached the mound. The jacketed figure pulled out a shovel and began digging.

Clang.

The figure put aside the shovel and wiped away the snow. A gray metal door, hidden beneath the snowfalls.

“It’s here.”

The man began to reach into his jacket when the woman stepped forward, pushing him to the side. She lay one finger upon the door, then curled that hand forward into a fist. There was a sickening crunch as the doors bent open.

“That was excessive.”

The woman grinned.

“You shouldn’t ask for my help if you don’t want excessive violence. It’s my favorite hobby.”

The two strode into the hidden bunker, a large empty room with a single number panel on the far wall. The man walked to the panel and input a code. The floor began dropping slowly.

As the walls of the elevator shaft dropped the two were lowered into an open area underground. There were wooden crates, stacked as far as the eye could see. There were cars, military trucks, even a couple of tanks and helicopters. The woman grinned and leapt off the elevator still several stories up. She had already reached one of the crates by the time the elevator reached the floor and the man disembarked. With a single finger she flipped open the lid, revealing a pile of assault rifles.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. And the mortals just leave all these weapons lying around?”

The man shook his head.

“Not normally. The Colonel liked to handle things on his own, and was not prepared for a...sudden demotion.”

The woman reached in and picked up one of the assault rifles. She disengaged the safety, cocked the rifle, and aimed down the sight. The man raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t think you’d be familiar.”

The girl grinned.

“Oh, daddy hated anything new. But me? I’m not so picky. In fact…”

The girl reached into the crate and picked up another assault rifle, holding one in each hand.

“Oh yea, I think I could get used to this.”