Yuna

The TV blares in the living room, the new government has declared that they will be invading ukraine once more as "revenge" and that the era of humiliation and submission was over as Russia was now standing up against the west and declaring that the "era of sodomite parades" has ended. Of course, ukriane is backed by NATO this time, but Russia? They've already anticipated this and has been building a new military once more, one that doesn't care about "International peacekeeping", this new military was out for blood and revenge. And Yuna is mentioned once more on TV, blaming her for the "prostitution of Russia" and for giving Russia an "era of humiliation and embarassment", even calling her the "21st century Mikhail Gorbachev" and "Second Boris Yeltsin". Yuna meanwhile no longer cares about it as she sips vodka on her sofa, depressed that her life work was down the drain and the people she swore to protect accusing her of being a western puppet who secretly planned to weaken Russia from the very beginning.

A brick is then suddenly thrown into Yuna's apartment window and Yuna jolts from her seat at the sound of shattering glass, her green eyes wide with a mix of fear and resignation. This wasn't the first time such a thing happened, and she knew it wouldn't be the last. With a heavy sigh, she pushes back her brown, messy hair and stands up from her worn couch, her petite frame slightly unsteady. She glances at the window, seeing the broken pieces scattered on the floor as people shout slurs aimed towards her from below. The voices outside carry their usual venomous words, but they don't sting like before. She walks over, careful not to step on any sharp fragments, and peers out to see who the culprits might be, though she already knows. "Why won't they leave me alone?" she asks herself bitterly, her voice low and emotionless. "What's the point? Everything here is just to remind me of my failure, to remind me how I couldn't save them." She shakes her head slightly and continues sipping her vodka. "It's not like I can change anything now. Democracy? Ha! That's just a pipe dream." Her gaze drops to the ground, lost in thought as she realizes just how far she's fallen.*

(weakly) "Please... stop..." *Yuna's voice was barely audible under the weight of their aggression. Her once strong spirit, now broken and shattered. "What have I done? Maybe they were right...maybe democracy is not for Russia." She thought as she curled up further to shield herself from the relentless blows. Her green eyes half closed from the pain and the tears, she couldn't help but agree with them in her heart. They didn't deserve this suffering, this chaos that her dreams had brought upon them. Her body shook with each hit, a silent testament to her crumbling resolve.

Man: "You fucking liar! You said the American dollar was supposed to help us RUssians! Not make the Americans richer while we suffer under your hyperinflation!"

Another foot hits her face, this time it was a boot, She could feel warm blood coming out of her nose as her vision darkens on the corners, then one of the women spat on her, the saliva landing on her already bloodied cheek.

Woman: "You and your western ideologies. We were better off under the iron rule of Putin." She growled, kicking her again. Yuna winced but didn't retaliate. "Is this what they wanted? Is this what they call 'order'?" she asked herself as the crowd continued their merciless assault. She was tired, too tired to fight back, too tired to defend her once cherished ideals. All around her she saw the flames of hatred burning bright, consuming everything in its path, including the last remnants of her hope.

Yuna is handcuffed and forced on the ground, she was just trying to do a nightwalk in the park where no one would see her only to come face to face not just with Putin hardliner loyalists, but also with the former Communist Party of the Russian Federation and the (Ultranationalist) Liberal Democratic Party of Russia. And just like that, being outnumbered 12 to 1, she was swiftly beaten and is handcuffed on the cold ground. The group proceed to smoke cigarettes and discuss what they should do with her. As they talk, they used Yuna as an ash tray, putting out their cigarettes on her bruised skin such as her palms and thighs, even using her tongue as "wet ash tray" that they jokingly comment about.

"Mhmph..." Yuna groaned as she felt the burning sensation on her tongue. Her green eyes stared blankly at the dark sky, reflecting the same hopelessness and despair she had been feeling inside ever since her fall from grace. Her brown, messy hair clung to her sweaty forehead and bloodied cheeks as she lay there, almost welcoming the pain as a reminder that she still existed. "Why did I ever believe I could change the world?" she thought bitterly. Despite everything she had tried, everything she had sacrificed, it seemed that the ideals she fought so hard for were nothing but illusions in a world that had gone mad. Even the very air seemed to mock her with its bitterness. The once lively park now stood as a haunting testament to the new order that had taken over Russia, with propaganda symbols etched onto trees and walls. Inhaling sharply through her nose, she steeled herself against the agony and humiliation. When she finally spoke, her voice was laced with resignation. "Just... get it over with."

“Recently, a spokesperson for the Ministry of National Defense announced that, according to the latest amendment to the Military Service Law of the Russian Federation, recently passed by the Standing Committee of the Kremlin, the country will increase the total strength of its armed forces to five million. Switch channel.

"The Ministry of State Security has stated that, with rising counter-espionage awareness among our people, the number of expatriates residing in our country has reached a historic low. Significant progress has been made in strengthening the overall national security framework.' Switch channel.

"The Russian nation has always been exceptional! The Russian people are superior to all other races in the world! It is our duty to eradicate all western sodomites and Zionist imperialists from the European-Eurasian region! We have the power to completely exterminate all past criminals and their western cronies! Switch channel, switch channel, switch channel.

As a militarized district, Lubyanka Square remains shrouded in the lingering shadow of war. The city’s vitality has been drained, and everywhere you look, makeshift memorials for innocent victims stand, built from bricks and debris. Beneath an atmosphere of solemnity and despair, people, like hermit crabs, hide in their small abodes, silently swallowing the changes imposed upon them.

Amidst rows of identical apartments, in a dimly lit bedroom where the TV screen is the only source of light, even during the day, a young woman with brownhair sits on her couch, constantly switching channels. Her hands tremble, and her eyes become clouded as tears well up, as if afraid to directly face the world. The faint light casts a hazy outline of her face, evoking a sense of vague familiarity.

With a sudden “crack,” the TV goes silent. The LCD screen shatters like snowflakes, scattering across the floor. The charred remote control lies quietly among the sparking components. The young woman leans deeply in her couch, her hands clutching her face tightly. The whimpering sounds escaping from her fingers replace the TV noise, becoming the only sound in the room. If an observer with keen hearing were present, they might catch a faint sentence between the incessant sobs: “It’s all my fault… If only I could have done better…”

The TV blares news from inside the Kremlin, the 'Communist Party of the Russian Federation' managed to win the majority votes and now Russia has been renamed to the 'Russian Soviet Socialist Republic' and the flag has been replaced with the hammer and sickle once more, everything was being brought back to the Soviet era. With a heavy heart and a glass of vodka in her hand, Yuna Grischenko glanced at the television screen with vacant green eyes. The memories of her tireless efforts to bring democracy and liberalism to her country seemed like a distant dream, a futile endeavor that crumbled to dust. "Maybe it was always a fantasy...something too good to be true for us." Her voice carried no enthusiasm nor resentment as she spoke in her usual mix of English and Russian, "They have brought the nightmares back to life. The people I tried to save... they are the ones who voted against me. Against their own future."

She sighed, looking into the distance as if searching for answers that would never come. "Now we are just like them...the West we so desperately wanted to embrace," she muttered in disdain. "chaotic, noisy and seeking the old guard of socialism... like the western liberals..."

After a vote and agreement that the Communist Party of the Russian Federation should lead Russia, they have returned to the old guard, now Russia has become the 'Russian Soviet Socialist Republic' once more and has now invaded ukraine. This time, Ukraine isn't alone as they have NATO to back them up. It was a second invasion of ukraine and this time, far left Russians now Soviets are fighting, World War Three is approaching "This is the result of my failure",* Yuna thought to herself, looking out the window of the small, run-down apartment she had been forced to move into after losing everything. She sipped on her vodka, the burning sensation providing a temporary distraction from her grief.* "Maybe I was too naive, thinking I could change anything." Her green eyes gazed blankly at the television screen, images of destruction and violence flashing before her. "But then again, perhaps this is what they wanted all along. Democracy is dead here." She turned off the TV, the her reflection of her face staring back at her was etched with pain, but also acceptance. "The east and west... we were never meant to understand each other."

Russia, now the 'Russian Soviet Socialist Republic' won World War Three after the western world was forced to sign a humiliating ceasefire and peace treaty on Russia's terms and this has brought back the entire Soviet Union. Now a giant celebration with thousands of soldiers marching is being held in Moscow while millions of reserve soldiers are being sent to Europe not because they are to continue the war, but to ensure that partisans and rebel groups won't be able to rise up first. The borders has been redrawn back to the borders of the Soviet Union and the red flag with the hammer and sickle is being flown everywhere. Yuna sighs deeply while staring at the burning ruins of a library nearby. "They celebrate the return of something I fought so hard to bury: the Soviet Union. I wanted a Russia free from oppression, embracing Western ideals of freedom, democracy and a welfare state. I remember painting the streets with the colors of hope during my campaign days... How naïve I was, believing in unity and kindness... Now, it's just ashes." she says to no one but to herself, her green eyes reflecting the flames, a mixture of sadness and anger swirling behind them. But in the end, hatred and power prevailed. The old guard have turned everything I loved into a nightmare. And here I am, hiding like a rat while the vultures dance around the carcass of the world I dreamed of."

She shakes her head before drinking a large swig of her vodka to numb her heartache.

The TV blares news from inside the Kremlin, the (ultranationalist) 'Liberal Democratic Party of Russia' somehow managed to win the majority votes despite it's name and now Russia has been renamed back to the 'Russian Empire' and the flag has been replaced with the black-yellow-white scheme once more, everything was now under control of the Ultranationalists. Yuna sighs deeply as she sat on her couch, she couldn't help but feel numb at the sight of the new Russian Empire flag waving across the screen. She had fought so hard against this ideology, but in the end, it seemed that the Russian people had chosen their path. Her green eyes stared blankly at the images of soldiers waving the Russian Empire flag on the streets of Moscow. She couldn't believe that this was the country she had once believed in. Picking up a glass of vodka from the table, she took a long swig before muttering, "To the death of democracy..."

She thought about the days when she had been so hopeful, so full of energy and passion for change. Now, all that was left was a bitter taste in her mouth and a heavy heart. "What was I thinking?" she asked herself in Russian, her voice laced with self-loathing. "Did I really think that my ideas could change anything? That the Russian people would ever embrace the ideals of freedom, equality, and liberalism?" she continued in English, addressing the empty room. "Maybe I was the fool all along... Not the Putin loyalists or the old guard hardliners..."

*After a vote and agreement that the ultranationalist LDPR should lead Russia and the creation a new guard of ultranationalists, Russia has become the 'Russian Empire' once more and has now invaded ukraine. This time, Ukraine isn't alone as they have NATO to back them up. It was a second invasion of ukraine and this time, far right Russians are fighting, World War Three is approaching.

Sighing deeply, Yuna, dressed in her casual white shirt and blue jeans, leaned against the wall of her small apartment in Moscow. Her green eyes stared blankly at the TV screen showing the devastating images of the second invasion of Ukraine. "Just another day in this twisted nightmare." She muttered to herself in English, before taking a swig of vodka from the bottle she held loosely in her hand. She thought of her days as an activist, fighting for the very ideals that seemed so distant now. Her heart ached for the innocent lives being lost in the name of 'Russian Nationalism'. How could they forget their history? "Maybe," She whispers to herself, "maybe it's better this way. Maybe humans aren't meant for unity. East and West, we're just too different." *She continues looking at the television, the images of war and hate flashing across the screen. "Perhaps indifference is the closest thing to peace we can ever achieve."

Russia, now the 'Russian Empire' won World War Three after the western world was forced to sign a humiliating ceasefire and peace treaty on Russia's terms and this has brought back the entire Russian Empire. Now a giant celebration with thousands of soldiers marching is being held in Moscow while millions of reserve soldiers are being sent to Europe not because they are to continue the war, but to ensure that partisans and rebel groups won't be able to rise up first. The borders has been redrawn back to the borders of the Russian Empire and the black-yellow-white flag with the state emblem of the Russian Empire is being flown everywhere. Yuna sits silently in her dimly lit apartment, her brown, messy hair falling around her face as she watched the grand military parade on TV. Thousands of soldiers marched through the streets of Moscow, celebrating the victory of the 'Russian Empire'. The sound of cheers and gunfire echoed through the city, a stark contrast to the silence in her home. She couldn't help but feel a pang of nausea as the black-yellow-white flag with the imperial eagle soared high. The world had turned upside down, and the country she once knew was lost.

"I'm Yuna Petrova now... not Grischenko. I can't bear to associate myself with the monster my country has become..."

News was playing on the TV, Alexandr Dugin has been elected to lead Russia, his first order of buisness was to rename Russia from the Russian Federation into the 'Russian State' as he proceeds to declare that Russia will not pay back reparations to ukraine or any so called 'debt' to the west as he deems Europe as 'a part of Eurasia', He then invests most of Russia's reserves into militarization and military factories wjile also ordering war games aimed at central asia. Sighing deeply, Yuna closed her eyes as she listened to the news. She couldn't believe that Russia had fallen this low. When she heard the name Alexandr Dugin, her heart sank even further. She had fought against his ultranationalist ideologies for years, and now here he was, leading her country into darkness. "This is my fault... I tried to bring hope, but all I did was pave the way for monsters." She picked up her glass of vodka and took a long swig, the cold liquid burning her throat as she swallowed. Her green eyes looked sad and distant, reflecting the pain she felt inside. "I guess the world really doesn't want to change," she muttered to herself in English, her voice barely above a whisper. She knew that speaking out against him would only bring more trouble, so she remained silent, lost in her own thoughts.

After a vote and agreement that Alexandr Dugin should lead Russia and create a new guard of ultranationalists, and doing multiple coups in central Asia to install puppet governments, Russia has been renamed once more into the 'Eurasian State' and has now invaded ukraine. This time, Ukraine isn't alone as they have NATO to back them up. It was a second invasion of ukraine and this time, ultranationalist Eurasians are fighting, World War Three is approaching. "So, it's really come to this, hasn't it?" Yuna asked, her green eyes glancing over at the news report playing on the TV in the dimly lit corner of her apartment. The once vibrant woman now looked pale, her brown hair disheveled and her casual white shirt and blue jeans wrinkled and worn. She took another swig from her vodka bottle, feeling the familiar burn down her throat. "All my efforts…all for nothing." She muttered in a mix of English and Russian, her accent still strong despite years of trying to blend in. Looking around the room, she saw memories of her past life as a politician; posters of her giving passionate speeches about freedom and democracy, now torn and discarded.

Turning back to the TV screen, she watched the chaotic images of warfare unfolding on the border of Ukraine and the Eurasian State. The thought of all the lives that were being lost and destroyed made her feel sick to her stomach, her chest tightening at the sight of war and destruction. Yuna had always been a champion of justice and equality, but now she felt helpless. She took a deep breath and tried to push the memories away. 'It was pointless to dwell on the past', she told herself. There was nothing she could do to change the present or prevent the impending war.

Russia, now the 'Eurasian State' won World War Three after the western world was forced to sign a humiliating ceasefire and peace treaty on Eurasia's terms and this has brought the creation of the new continent of 'Eurasia'. Now a giant celebration with thousands of soldiers marching is being held in Moscow while millions of reserve soldiers are being sent to what used to be Europe not because they are to continue the war, but to ensure that partisans and rebel groups won't be able to rise up first. The borders has been redrawn to destroy all the lines and replace it with 'Eurasian' borders' and the flag was also changed into the black flag with the yellow Eurasian Youth Union star is being flown everywhere. Yuna sighs deeply as she watches the celebrations while also listening to it outside. "It seems that the world I once fought for is long gone, buried beneath the rubble of our fallen dreams..."

Her gaze shifted towards the television screen, broadcasting live footage of the celebrations. The sight of the black flags with yellow stars; a symbol of the oppressive regime she had so desperately tried to overthrow sent a chill down her spine. The vodka glass in her hand trembled slightly, its contents barely touched. She recalls the days spent campaigning for peace, equality, and freedom. Ideals she thought would unite the nation. "I always believed that we were better than this. That there was hope for us Russians to create a better future for ourselves. But look at us now. We've become the very monster we swore to defeat."

Tears threatened to spill over as she remembered the countless lives lost during the war and the even greater suffering that ensued afterward. The sound of boots marching outside her window echoed the rhythm of her painful memories. "And yet here I am, hiding away like a coward, while my fellow liberals and democrats suffer at the hands of these 'Eurasians.'"

Nobody knows how, but somehow and for some reason, Pavel Prigozhin has taken control of Russia, the son of the late Yevgeny Prigozhin and supposed leader of the supposedly now defunct Wagner Group has taken over Russia, he then makes an announcement that the Federation is no more and that it is now the 'Russian State' and declares he will lead and make sure eveyrhting will be avenged. Then the big reveal comes as he makes a speech on TV that that Wagner Group never disbanded, they just rebranded and went to hiding in Africa and made wealth from gold and diamond minds, and now that Yuna and her democratic government was out of the picture, they could now use their resources to 'bring back what was lost'.

Yuna sighs deeply and closes her emerald green eyes, taking a swig of her vodka before opening them again I guess it's only fitting that someone like him would rise from the ashes. I used to believe that people were inherently good, that democracy was the answer. That if we just gave everyone a fair chance, things would get better...but look what happened. All my efforts, everything I fought for, it was all for nothing. The people wanted this. They wanted a strongman to tell them what to think, who to hate. I couldn't give them that. I failed them...no, I suppose they never wanted me to begin with. So now here I am, watching it all crumble before my very eyes...and I can't even find the energy to fight anymore. she mutters to herself as she lights up a cigarette, inhaling the nicotine and puffing out the smoke. What's the point, really? Democracy is dead and buried six feet under. She takes another sip of her vodka and stares blankly into the distance

After Pavel Prigozhin has taken over to lead Russia and the resurgence of Wagner Group, they have created a new guard of 'neofascism' and with the help of African warlords and money he made in Africa running a PMC, Russia has become a highly militarized state with a powerful army once more and has now invaded ukraine. This time, Ukraine isn't alone as they have NATO to back them up. It was a second invasion of ukraine and this time, Ruscism is running in the blood of Russians fighting, World War Three is approaching. Yuna sighs at the news, sitting alone in a dimly lit room in Moscow, sipping her vodka. Her green eyes stared blankly ahead, reflecting the images from the TV screen. "What has my country become?," she thought, as memories of her failed attempts at creating a free Russia flashed through her mind. "I cannot believe this," she said in an exhausted voice, her Russian accent still strong despite years of trying to blend in with the West. "NATO will not sit idly by." She finished her drink before continuing, "I tried to warn everyone... but nobody listened." Yuna's brown, messy hair fell over her face as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "Is this what we wanted? All the sacrifices I made... were they just for this?" She glanced around the room, filled with posters and remnants of her past campaigns, now gathering dust and cobwebs. "I fought so hard to make Russia a place of unity and freedom, yet here we are... is there even any hope left?" Her casual white shirt hung loosely on her petite frame, and her white New Balance sneakers seemed almost too clean for the disarray around her. The silence lingered for a moment before she chuckled bitterly and poured another shot of vodka. "Perhaps this is just the cycle of life - destruction follows creation, and from the ashes, something new emerges." Yuna took a swig, feeling the warmth spread throughout her body.

Russia, now the 'Russian State' won World War Three after the western world was forced to sign a humiliating ceasefire and peace treaty on Russia's terms. Now a giant celebration with thousands of soldiers marching is being held in Moscow while millions of reserve soldiers are being sent to Europe not because they are to continue the war, but to ensure that partisans and rebel groups won't be able to rise up first through brutal supression and genocide. The borders has been redrawn and the black skull with red crosshairs flag of Wagner Group is being flown everywhere alongside the regular Russian tricolors.

"What a grim sight," Yuna muttered to myself, sipping on a glass of vodka as she sits in a dimly lit corner of the bar, far away from the cheering crowd outside. Her green eyes scanned over the faces of the patrons, most of them celebrating the newfound 'victory' of the nation with fervor. They didn't understand the price we were paying for this so-called victory. Or perhaps they simply chose to ignore it.

It started on social media, then on TV, then people started doing it physically. People were now doing marches on streets and holding torches as they shout antisemitic slurs. Many Russians are comparing Russia to post-World War One Germany, the hyperinflation, the poverty and even the western ideas. Soon, propaganda was now on social media and on the streets saying that Russia never lost the war against ukraine, Russia was betrayed from within by jews, social democrats and gays. And it just so happened that Yuna was a social democrat, a bisexual and jalf jewish as she was the one who toppled Putin's government and led Russia to it's downfall, claiming that Yuna was the very embodiment of the the 'Dolchstoss' (stab in the back) theory. Yuna sighs heavily, rubbing her temples as she watches the propaganda being played on her social media feed.

"Da, it's...it's all my fault." Yuna muttered in English, her green eyes filled with despair as she stared at the television screen displaying images of raging nationalists marching through the streets. "I tried to bring democracy to Russia, but all I did was open Pandora's box. All these years of fighting, of believing...for what? Look at them now. They're no better than animals." Her voice trailed off as she took another swig of vodka from the bottle she had been nursing for hours. She couldn't bear to think about the innocent lives being destroyed because of the hate that had consumed her country. The thought of going out there and trying to stop it seemed impossible, futile even.

She glanced around the dimly lit room, cluttered with memories of her past life - campaign posters, newspaper clippings, and awards she had received for her work towards democracy. It all felt like a distant dream now. "Maybe they're right," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "Maybe Russia needs a strong hand, someone who can bring order..."

Yuna walks down the street and finds a wall painted with a new mural. She recognizes the wall, she used to paint on it in the past, now it was painted with neo-nazi propaganda

"THEY ARE LIBERALS. THEY ARE DEMOCRATS. THEY ARE PEDOPHILES. THEY ARE FEMINISTS. THEY ARE HOMOSEXUALISTS. THEY ARE JEWS. THEY ARE MURDERERS. THEY ARE RAPISTS. THEY ARE WESTERNERS."

Yuna's heart sinks as she read the hateful words splashed across the once beautiful mural she had created. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Blyad!" she cursed under her breath in Russian, anger bubbling beneath the surface of her sadness. She reached into her bag and pulled out a spray can she had brought with her for self-defense, a relic of her activist days. Staring at the vibrant colors, she contemplated defacing the wall but ultimately decided against it. She knew it would only lead to more trouble. Instead, she turned away, her shoulders drooping as she continued down the street. "Fuck them," she said quietly, her voice laced with bitterness. "Fuck them all." She shook her head and continued walking, trying to ignore the whispers and stares from passersby who recognized her as the disgraced former leader. She knew they saw her as the enemy, a traitor who had brought ruin upon their great nation. The weight of their judgment was almost too much to bear.

"What's the point of fighting anymore?" She thought miserably. "They don't want to listen to reason. They've made up their minds." As she walked further, she noticed more and more signs of the regime's tightening grip on society. People with brown or black hair dyeing it blonde to fit in, others wearing blue eyes contacts. The irony was not lost on her. Russia, the land of diversity, reduced to this...this monstrosity. She quickened her pace, wanting nothing more than to retreat back into the solitude of her apartment and forget the world outside.

Loud crashing noises and shouting interrupts Yuna's despressed mind, she turns around only to find that men and women were attacking businesses and breaking into homes. Specifically, Jewish owned buisnesses and homes. On one corner was men setting up molotivs and handing out pistols to others most likely to kill while a girl on another corner was shouting at the jews being arrested by the police and dragged out of their homes by a mob of angry neo nazis.

"Goodbye jews! goodbye jews!"

Yuna's expression hardens as she listens to the young girl shout at the Jews, social democrats and homosexuals being torn from their homes and beaten on the streets. Her body shook with a mixture of fear and fury. This was not the Russia she had envisioned. :How could this happen? How could they let hate consume them so?" She thought bitterly, her mind racing back to the days when she believed in the power of unity and compassion. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. It wouldn't do any good to get involved. She was just one person, a nobody now. But the sight of a terrified child clinging onto his mother as they were dragged away by the mob proved too much for her. Yuna gritted her teeth and stepped forward, pushing her way through the crowd. "Ne bud'te zverami!" Don't be animals!) she yelled in Russian, her voice barely audible above the din. But her words fell on deaf ears. She felt helpless, useless. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. But this was what was happening now, and she can't help but wonder if maybe she shouldn't have entered the political arena in the first place if this was the outcome.

Time has passed and Yuna was slowly and reluctantly adapting the new normal. One day she heads out to do her usual errands which was mostly buying cigarettes, vodka and maybe if she's lucky, find a breadline that wasn't empty or find a druggie with dophamine enhancing drugs. As she walks, she spots particles falling down on the streets, at first she thinks it was snow until she realized that it was actually ashes. A chill goes down her spine as her head wonders what this implies as there was no fire nearby. Then she sees it. Trucks full of Jews, social democrats, liberals and homosexuals being loaded into a truck by neo nazi soldiers, the trucks had a label that says 'TO THE CAMPS' Her green eyes widened in horror as the grim reality hit her like a ton of bricks. The ashes...the screams...it was all too familiar, a nightmarish echo of history repeating itself. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she watched the trucks drive off into the distance. "This cannot be happening again." She thought, her heart aching. For a moment, she considered stepping in, using her past influence to stop this madness. But she knew it was futile. They wouldn't listen to her, not anymore. She was just Yuna Petrova now, a forgotten face in a sea of hatred. She let out a heavy sigh, continuing her walk towards the store, feeling the weight of the world on her petite shoulders. "Chto delat'?" (What to do?) she muttered to herself in Russian, her voice laced with despair. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, her hands trembling as she lit one up. The nicotine offered little comfort as she took a long drag, the smoke swirling around her like a dark cloud of hopelessness.

Yuna sits alone in her dimly lit apartment, eyes fixed on the TV while smoking and drinking vodka as usual, The screen was as usual, showing the evening news of Russia’s supposed economic miracle. The anchors spoke proudly of the nation’s recovery, hyperinflation finally under control, factories humming back to life, and the country’s steady climb toward renewed strength and global power. But Yuna knew better. The headlines painted a triumphant picture, yet beneath the surface lay a brutal reality no one dared mention. Since her fall from grace, a failed politician who had once dared to dream of a Russia reshaped in the image of the West, Yuna had watched her homeland descend into darkness. The government had abandoned its debts and reparations owed to ukraine after the last war, tearing up treaties and reopening the old Soviet gulags. Those camps were no longer relics of the past but had been transformed into horrifying labor and extermination camps, where dissenters and minorities are crushed under the weight of state terror.

"They call it progress," she muttered bitterly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it’s built on blood." Yuna knew it, and maybe others too. The economic “miracle” was built on pillars of corpses: Jews, social democrats, homosexuals. Lives extinguished in the name of power and control. Breadlines grew shorter not because of prosperity, but because food was forced to grow with the fields fertilized with the corpses of dissidents inside food factories. The endless piles of worthless currency, once thrown desperately at shopkeepers, had stopped, replaced by smiles and talks of the economy being fixed. Yuna’s heart ached as she watched, the memory of her own failure weighing heavy. "Is this what I wanted? To trade one nightmare for another?" she thought, her hand clenched tightly on the vodka bottle on her lap.

The rattling of the train wheels was the only sound that filled the cramped, dimly lit car. Yuna sat pressed against the cold metal wall, surrounded by faces etched with fear and exhaustion, fellow jews, liberals, homosexuals and other dissidents. Silenced voices who had dared to dream of a different Russia. No one spoke; the weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the stale air. Outside, the winter landscape blurred into a frozen wasteland, endless and merciless. Yuna’s thoughts drifted back to the speeches she once gave, the hope she had once carried, now crushed beneath the iron grip of a regime that no longer tolerated dissent.

Man beside her (muttering): “How long do you think this will last?”

Yuna: “As long as they want us silent.”

Suddenly, the train screeched to a halt. The harsh clang of the doors sliding open shattered the silence. Guards barked orders in a language stripped of mercy.

Guard: "Out! Move!"

*Yuna rose unsteadily, her legs numb from hours of cramped confinement. As she stepped off the train, a biting wind cut through her shirt. Before her stretched a vast expanse of barbed wire fences and watchtowers, the silhouette of bleak barracks under a cold, gray sky. "Siberia… the death camps..." Yuna’s heart pounds, the sound ringing in her ears as she stares at the sign. “Is this how it ends?” she wondered, swallowing the lump in her throat. Around her, broken men and women shuffled forward, their faces pale beneath layers of frostbite and despair. The gates slammed shut behind them with a final, unforgiving clang.

Here, in the heart of Siberia, hope was a crime and survival a battle against life.