The fourth man in the room was a KGB agent. He nervously fingered a Makarov pistol he had holstered to his leg. Everyone knew what he was here for.

Dmitri cut the radio speaker, immediately silencing the static which had filled the hut. The KGB-man’s leather gun holster was opened with a creak and a click.

“So are you going to it then?” Dmitri asked.

The agent took his hand away from the pistol, averting his gaze.

“You going to fucking kill us too? Like you killed Anton? Like you are going to kill his family?” he shouted. “We told you this would happen. We told you it wasn’t ready. But no, this is your fucking project, your fucking glory.”

As Dmitri shouted, he stood up abruptly, his sedan chair violently pushed forwards, shards of glass crushing underfoot.

The KGB agent took a step back, but then righted his posture. His eyes narrowed as his gaze scraped across the room.

“The Fatherland demands sacrifice! Do not question what is necessary!” he shouted back.

“Fuck the Fatherland — what kind of father leads its children to death?” Dmitri continued to rage. “And for what? So you can score boasting points against the Capitalists? Tell me how the fuck that helps anyone? This is isn’t sacrifice — this is murder!”

The agent was unmoved, replying in a stern but calm tone.

“No — you tell me. Tell me Comrade, how many died in Stalingrad for your freedom? How many died in Leningrad to supply the city while its children starved in the long winter? Have you forgotten what it means to be part of our revolution? Have you forgotten the idea we all serve?” he lectured, as if reciting a practiced speech.

“No! I haven’t forgotten! I was there, and saw what you were too young to even have nightmares about! I did not fight, just to kill people for politics. Do not tell me what it means to sacrifice!”

Dmitri grabbed the broken bottle from the table and brandished it in front of him, swinging menacingly adding further aggression to his shouts. Sasha noticed the KGB agent lower his right hand, back towards his holster.

“Do you know what we had to do survive Comrade?, Anton continued saying the last word with a disgusted snarl. “What we did just to eat during the Siege? How many friends I lost to the Nazis’ bullets and the cold?”

He took a step towards the agent.

“But you are no friend! And if you die, I don’t ca — — ”

Crack. A deafening gunshot echoed within the confined cabin.

Crack crack.

Brain matter painted the radio equipment.

Dmitri’s body hit the concrete with thud.

The agent turned his gun to the other technician in the room, who himself was frozen with fear. Crack, crack, crack, crack. His body slumped into the chair he was sitting in. Blood dripped from his fingertips, still gripping to the armrest.

Nastya dropped the tea, screaming, and ran out through door, almost barreling it off its hinges. Several muffled gunshots followed soon after, punctuated by a tortured scream.

Finally, the agent turned the gun on Sasha who stood shaking as blood pooled at his feet.

“You however, are too important to this project to die,” he said coldly. “For now.”

“Project Zenith will continue, and we will bring hope to the proletariat!” he continued, not really addressing Sasha, but rather some invisible and still living third party within the cabin.

“Glory to the USSR! Glory to the Fatherland!” he proclaimed.

“G-g-glory to the Fatherland” Sasha stammered back.