FROM THE DESK OF COMMANDANT JONATHAN LAZARO

SURVEILLANCE LIAISON FOR REGION-9440AF9 "PRAVOSLAVIA"

GLORY TO JALAKÅRA

ATTN: COLONEL MARIA DELL

RE: REQUEST FOR REASSIGNMENT

Colonel,

Aside from the many surveillance reports and translated documents I have enclosed, allow me to summarize Pravoslavia:

In nearly every multiversal iteration of Earth, the Russian Empire is dead. As with the vast majority of dead things, it ended up in Corbenic. For the Post-Orthodox faithful, Pravoslavia is regarded as the Heaven they were promised in life.

The Pentatsar no longer goes by Ivan, or any individual name. Five iterations of the same Tsar, Ivan IV, act as a single unit, and are never apart from one another for more than a few minutes at a time. (Whether this is purely symbolic, or an effect of some thaumaturgical hivemind to transcend his subjects, is unknown.) As such, the Post-Orthodox Church believes in a theological trinity — with Jesus Christ ruling Earth, the Pentatsar ruling Heaven, and God somewhere in-between. If that seems confusing, it's because it fucking is.

Of course, Ivan Grozny's reputation as a sadistic, autocratic torturer has been debated. Perhaps he was a decent man in life. But I'm not on the Perdition Committee, and my duty is to observe this world's Pentatsar — who is, in the most objective terms, a goddamn tyrant.

Five months of our detailed combing of Pravoslavia have revealed a nation under perpetual martial law. With death out of the picture, Corbenic's healing factor has made torture the most common — if not the only — punishment for criminals, at varying degrees of intensity. This has also eliminated the need for prisons; most commonly, petty offenses are given the "yabloko" — euphemism for an acidic boil — for a few years.

As for the amount of population under some form of torture — our current minimum estimate is 87%.

The worst part is that some offenses — among them, apostasy — carry the possibility of an infinite sentence. Every other street corner in Novomuscovy is decorated with NMMSers hanging from rusty cages as a warning. Limbs fused together, parasitic scalp growths that feed off the brain, vital organs transmuted into lead and gold — this is where a Pravoslavian has the most artistic freedom.

Perhaps this is hypocrisy, knowing who I fight for. But even the Initiative's caustic oubliettes have a rehabilitation timeframe. Weaver's sake, Mussolini's currently stamping license plates, and Caligula's opening a sports bar this Fall. Remember President Niang's address last year: "Even if someone has to get ten million years behind bars, it should still be a finite number."

As for our fears about human trafficking, they have been all but confirmed. For evidence, we have translated many serf auction programs that should paint a very specific picture. They are enclosed. That our Seventh Division has been able to attend these auctions without breaching protocol, without blowing our cover to save these exploited civilians — well, it's taken a substantial toll on their resolve. I'm recommending the entire Seventh Division for psychiatric evaluation. (And maybe some old-world amnestics — they're all Foundation stock, so this shouldn't be anything new.)

All that, and I've neglected to mention the Oprichniki — Weaver damn them all.

What were once meant to be Ivan Grozny's secret police are now demons. Thaumaturgically-enhanced, bardiche-toting berserkers. Human, but just barely. Each one stands ten feet high, covered in matted beards, linens, and medals. Necklaces of wolves' heads — still gasping. Sunken eyes. They're the central presence of the law in Pravoslavia.

Even the slightest suspicion of indecency, and they're upon you — growling, snarling, slobbering on you with their meter-long tongues, lapping you up, hacking you to pieces, shoving what's left of you in their iron meat-carts… you only regenerate once you're in the defendant's box at the palace of justice.

…I'll have to direct you to Sgt. Jessup for more details about the Oprichniki. I wouldn't be the one to ask, as it took a few hours to write that last paragraph. It was from personal experience — just a week ago. I may very well need a psychiatric evaluation, myself — once I've dealt with all the yablokos the local Bishop placed on my forehead. One thing at a time.

Suggested courses of action:

- Pity's sake, reassign me to something boring.

- Stop monitoring Pravoslavia.

- Bomb them.

- Never stop bombing them.

- Construct an automatic re-bombing apparatus above Pravoslavia, designed to use the kinetic energy from a bombing to drop seventeen more bombs.

- Bomb that, too.

- Kill me.