Six Years Ago, during the Zapadoslav Wars 19:02, Tsarskoye Selo, Volossiya "Do you really think it will work? The plan, that is. I don't like the idea of working with those Litzische Special Forces, 'ya know? I mean, they're Kaltach, just like the Sonvies and those Candanadians, you know? How do we know they won't kill us all? I mean, we took over their country! What if-" The soldier would be cut off by a woman at least five years older than him, "Hush, Mikhail, you worry too much. The Litzische are just as content with us as they were with the Litzelands. Besides, that place was falling apart faster than a Burzundiyan Artillery gun. I should know, I was there." Mikhail and the woman would continue to sit in their hastily-made snipers nest until the rest of the company arrived. It was a wonder how such an inexperienced boy could be paired with such a veteran soldier. The woman contemplated such a thing until she heard the click of a pistol's hammer being drawn back. "Pow, dead. You need to work on your cover, Mikhail, this place looks like a cardboard box with leaves glued onto it. Oh, we have company... this is? Wait, no, it can't be! I didn't know they let Varsovians into the army! You're that Litzische Revolutionary, right? You're-" "Katayevi Svyatopolk-Myrska, yes. Please, quiet down. All you damn soldiers are about as smart as teenagers, hell, some of you are teenagers!" The new guy would whisper "Yes!" under his breath and put forth his hand, "Hi, Ms. Myrska... It's so cool to meet you! My name is Anton... Anton Kerensky." Katayevi would respond calmly and diplomatically, shaking his hand, "The pleasure is mine, Kerensky. Now, please, simmer down. We have to be quiet till the rest of the unit arrives or we'll be caught dead by those damn fascists." Anton and Mikhail would be preoccupied doing some sort of strange handshake, but Anton would reply half-mindedly with "They're already here." 22:39, Orenburg, Volossiya Katayevi would nest near a rock face outside the town, drawing her Model 1911 Repeating Rifle, otherwise known as the M11 Ruthin. "Any changes to the plan, Mikhail?" The boy, placing down some ammunition near Katayevi, would reply bluntly, but with a hint of nervousness in his voice, "No. Shoot to kill." She began to fire upon the Fascist rebels guarding the city. Soon, the Fallschirmjäger, the Elite Litzische Paratroopers, would arrive. She could already hear the planes coming near.