"Mono/Dialogue"

  'Inner thoughts'

  Narration

  [Message/communication apparatus]

  Date: Late November 645 AU

  Location: Nova Elesia, Regalian Autarchy, Regalian Continent (Formerly Convalis Tenebrea.)

  POV: Cylene Renoir.

  Making my way out from the VTOL, I made st-minute checks with my bodyguards; they vehemently refused to let me go without protection. Not far from us would be an old military transport being towed by a rger helicopter. Landing away from prying eyes during the night was a standard idea, so there is not much brainpower usage there.

  We are not wearing our usual clothing and I added extra yers of disguise. Meredith and 2 Grasdivis are wearing standard-issue gear. I had a slightly altered version to accommodate more medical supplies. My eyes are covered with a bck goggles to hide I’m walking with eyes closed.

  “Your Grace, is this wise?” Meredith asked me, her worried tone did make me want to rethink this but my heart had been beating non-stop it was necessary. The head throbs and pain had been worsening too, and more and more visions or memories entered my mind.

  “Logically, no. It is not wise; utterly moronic to be candid. However, not everything could be expressed with mere reports. For example, group 1 reported a ck of supplies but the detail would only reach one or two tiers above. For the sake of efficiency, that’s a logical move yet it came at the cost when those at the top were left blind for the supposedly inconsequential problem. Clear?”

  “Understood.” She and 2 others shall act as my bodyguards. We’ll be bringing along an SMG that could be hidden underneath. It can be folded neatly and has a boxy appearance.

  I could be as verbose as I want to justify how I do things… but no one can deny that I have such attachment to Regalia only through a screen and holographic view; merely considered a sunk-cost falcy. I feel that it would not hammer in what I will do as a leader. I don’t wanna die, but most importantly I also don’t want to half-assed my decisions.

  It hit me really hard hearing about the casualties tally, but that’s just hearing it… how hard would it be if thrust myself back in there? I could hand-wave it back then like it was merely numbers but that’s impossible now.

  ‘I missed my old comrades… I lived and they all died… again, and again… and again. That much is nothing to what I really did though…’ It appears that my expression shows judging at how Meredith looks so concerned.

  “Appears you had misconstrued my silence, but no matter. Are we ready?”

  “… Yes, Your Grace, security echelons have been notified and prepared for deployment in case of emergency.”

  “Then there is nothing left for us to do, get in.”

  “Understood, I shall drive us to-”

  “You stay in the passenger seat along with the others.”

  “B-but, I must decline.”

  “Was that a countermand?” I spoke that one aloud. My personal agents appears to categorize that as me being displeased with how their PDWs are subtly pointed at the Head Maid. Ok, that was me being an ass. I ordered them to stand down with my hands.

  “… No, Your grace.”

  “There will be no more Your Grace when we reach our destination unless of emergency. Call me Rene Leonine”

  “Understood, my Grand Autarch.” She straightened up, her face serious. I need to find a way to make the Grasdivis stop jumping the gun… oh well, more problem…

  “Excellent, let’s be on our way.”

  -

  -

  -

  -

  Buildings scorched and broken, debris on the waysides, and soldiers patrolling the sidewalks that are empty of civilian activities. Destroyed vehicles and even chunks of charred corpses are still strewn out in the open, the old me would have gurgled out her dinner. After what I had been through, and now as Cylene to boot, these only made me sigh quietly with pity.

  My above-average stature caused some heads to turn my way, but by the end of it, it was not all that unusual. They probably thought that I’m an Icefnders since these people are often taller than most, and I even saw people taller than me moving around with heavy equipment and supplies.

  Aside from soldiers, I then spotted workers and citizen militia hard at work with rebuilding and policing action. The smells of iron and sights of spent chemicals would have been a cause for concern, but they diligently and tirelessly work to rebuild and clean their assigned area. Those who are policing the situation could be seen to be watching over every nook and cranny that might hide unwanted surprises.

  Well, policing is a strong word since I don’t think anyone would dare do anything stupid for now. Of course, my disguise made me look like a corpsman since that was my previous position in the squad before… Nah.

  ‘A shitty medic who failed in saving her team…’ Yeah… I should have gone with being a rifleman again. I don’t know, guess I still have my hubris in me and I don’t know how to internalize it well. Still, I promptly helped around to look the part while my bodyguards did the same but mostly to keep an eye out.

  Along the way, I see all the things that computer graphics failed to fully realize despite its numerous advancements. That in itself is no problem, but I see those who lost everything and more or less praying for me to do something made me grimace.

  Someone had suddenly broken through our silent perimeter. I was on guard to pull my sidearm but merely stepped out of their way.

  ‘A child…’ They must have been taking the tunnel and smaller entry points. Just how deep has the defense been dug? I might need to order an extensive integrity evaluation. If handled incorrectly, the city could sink and make an even bigger mess. My bodyguards lowered their guns once the child passed by. More and more of them I see walking through with torn shoes or even barefooted.

  I could only be silent watching it unfold. Children who scampered about quietly to help with rebuilding; these little firebrands are doing their best to help or distract themselves. Truly, I saw a little kid no older than 7 carrying a stack of bricks around for disposal. Their bloodied hand made me unconsciously avert my eyes.

  That seems to attract the attention of a soldier next to me.

  “Sad isn’t it?” He looks and sounds familiar…

  “Eh- uh…” Increasing my voice a pitch higher, I answered.

  “Y-Yes… it was real messed up.” The soldier chuckled morosely.

  “Messed up indeed… but I never seen you before, where are you from? Oh by the by, I’m Captain Diego, part of the GSN Marine Corps. We just returned from the east, a hectic problem that one but we are back… mostly…” Wait, that’s my unit… I forgot that I recalled them back here…

  “W-Wow really?”

  “I knew it, so you’re a rookie. But you got stable hands there, former servicemen?”

  “No… Sir, I was a nurse mostly volunteering behind the frontline. Then forgive my manner, I’m Corporal Rene Leonine.”

  “Catchy name and please don’t sir me here… I’m just like the rest of you, trying to help around.”

  “I’m not sure though… I don’t know…” My true thoughts slipped through my lips. I was about to curse before the Captain ughed. He found my problem funny, causing me to pout.

  “Oh man, you’re the real one…” His ughter died down before his expression turned serious but also kind.

  “It didn’t matter your motive as long as you help digging here. We are all in this together, like seriously, unknown world that we know little about…? If not with each other, how are we supposed to sail through? Well, maybe not for those lunatics.”

  “The rebels?”

  “Yep, they are so lost in a vision of grandeur and old history that they can’t think straight. I mean, I’m not Casherlish but I was never mistreated by them… What the hell were they thinking? When did Casherlish ever wipe out a perfectly reasonable culture? I could still go back home and celebrate Sigil Memorial like it always had been for the st 2000 years.” I was about to ask him something when I noticed something through the rubble… a severed hand.

  “Hey! We got a body buried over here!” Immediately other volunteers are swarming around to help dig through the debris. Me, Meredith, and Diego hefted up a broken steel beam and once we dug them up, we found a whole family buried deep. The sadness is palpable but they wordlessly searched onto the next debris and so forth, it took a long time to clean up all this mess.

  We move from blocks to blocks, more and more bodies were unearthed. How surreal that the only reason I didn’t vomit was because of prior experience. Then we arrived on a deserted district, which is not at all deserted. We comb through the buildings and sure enough, more bodies.

  We searched through one of the bigger boxy buildings in the area and found an old couple with their corpses ying on their stomach. Judging from where they are staring, these old folks were summarily executed.

  ‘Did my in-game action resulted in this?’ Before I could have more guilt dumping my strained conscience, I found different bodies. They have mismatched gear, and it clicked. These are either Rebels or NIIO’s soldiers pressing deep to terrorize or having a bout of madness. Then I noticed something, why are these corpses buried like protecting something?

  “Hey, Diego.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Isn’t it weird?”

  “What is?”

  “Why did they have these?” I start pointing out discrepancies. Shovels, corpses that had rotted, and stly their peculiar posture. Spent or broken tanks of fuel or oxygen, and crates of food supplies. Logically, the st item should be hidden unless they have little time… is it deception?

  “What was this district before the war?”

  “I don’t quite remember… do you?” the Captain turned his head to Meredith and she answered.

  “I had been here once, and I still remembered that it was adjacent to a suburban area, an old couple’s bakery was famous for children around these parts. The 20th War had been destroying their hard work…” … Yeah, I’m at fault for inciting the pyers’ ire… still, I’ll wallow ter.

  “Nova Elesia had been turned into a fortress, so it is not a stretch to think that this pce was turned into a makeshift facility that is not necessarily a bunker or defense point.”

  “Why are you so fixated on it?”

  “If it was a bunker, why does the window unbarred? I don’t see even wooden splinters or cement to seal them. Spent supplies and equipment implied that this was a supply depot of sorts. Lastly, those corpses there.”

  Then after searching for more clues, I found guns buried not far from the alleged doorway. It was not Regalian guns, then spent brass was spotted, some irregur space between the debris reinforced and soon my instinct telling me that something else is here. I tried to walk behind the corpse’s position and soon my feet sank 1 or 2 inches deep.

  “Could you help me?”

  “Sure.” We first respectfully lifted the body from the ground and started digging deeper. It didn’t take long before we found a door to a basement. Without thinking too long, we broke it down and the sound attracted some onlookers. Once we breach through, we see a lot of emaciated people, young or old, gasping for air. My eyes spotted a rge oxygen tank being almost empty not too far away.

  “HEY! WE FOUND SURVIVORS!” Diego shouted and I wordlessly followed him deeper. We evacuated a dozen people with the help of my disguised bodyguards and volunteers. However, the further we went, more and more were found but they had passed on.

  While doing so… memories of old were triggered within my mind.

  Memories of… Cashy10 and Cylene? I see her walking around the southern continental zone. Adventuring and all sorts of things were a good distraction from my early life. The world has been spiraling down into hell, so this game I had found became a haven. Then all these nice memories are thrown into the dustbin when the 4th World War happened.

  I could not understand why her memories had been superimposed on that unreachable paradise I had been seeing… wait…

  ‘Hold on… what…’ before I could question them, a memory pyed out in front of me. The world has been moving, and my old friends are dead. Their pyer characters are active due to the game unique build of preset activities. From my perspective, it is just a bunch of ghost pying but from Cashy10's perspective, everyone becomes distant from her and her reality turns into something resembling a nightmare. I watched how the A.I.-controlled characters are battling needlessly without end.

  ‘I deleted Cashy10 because I realized, no one had returned. What happened to Cashy10? Did it transte into-…’ Another throb, I watch over a brokenhearted girl crying out in confusion. It doesn’t hold for long before she flung her body into the reefs below, memories of her ‘friends’ brushing off her advices and hating her for them surfaces.

  ‘… It feels like a mirror, or perfect copy, of what happened before that debacle…’

  Then I viewed the situation from Cylene’s perspective. A chaotic continent when she arrived with several NPCs to form the Casherlish Encve high up in the mountain. We were much weaker to average Tenebrean, and it takes 5 generations before we fully acclimated with them. However, I used all sorts of dirty tricks I learned from being the…

  “Ngh!” My feet froze in its pce, and my fingers are unconsciously cwing on my helmet.

  “My- Rene!”

  “Hey! Easy there kid!”

  I see Cylene leading by example, I see how she was wounded time and time again but not once did she step back. She throws down her sword and revolver to uphold the fallen, ragged, torn, bloodied, and dirty fg. Instead of pitiful mockery of what it once was, she sees how dazzling she looked. The banner sparkled in golden hues, and the sky of dawn cut through the darkened cloud.

  Soon I see a memory of my old self, Rene, during the 4th World War. I witnessed how her hands were numb from reloading, distributing, and firing weapons time and time again. She has been dragging more bodies than fragging ones because of shell shock. Unlike Cylene’s radiance, I could only see myself crawling through the mud with my dying comrades trailing behind me with the dead everywhere I could see. She watched as how the world was turned upside down, and all she amounted to was just one person.

  Yet these contrasting images melded into a simir scenery. Cylene arrived in a broken-down city, ravaged by otherworldly monsters and mankind’s cruelty alike. She felt for them and their suffering with her at the forefront. Rene meanwhile was riding on one of the tanks, shortly after reassigned to a new company, again. Her company was ordered to perform search and rescue at a nearby settlement only to be ambushed. Both egos triumphed, both sides could see the next day, and both women witnessed the same tragedy.

  People who are still trapped inside their homes were fatalities of conflicts. She watched as how both the hero and the grunt cried cradling a child in their arms. No matter the story, the civilians would suffer. I watched both of these, one was supposedly a heroic version of my fantasy and the other was a grim reality. I watched how my people or fellow countrymen became casualties because we could not prevent the fmes of war from reaching.

  Another simir view is none other when an NPC or people of her reality stabbed Cylene in the back. Rene lost her squad when the same guide who had promised her company a help had double-crossed them instead. Scenes of betrayal or hesitance to those who deserved nothing of such eclipsed the sadness I felt. These regrets made me grind my teeth.

  More, the view intersect to see the both of them hatefully stabbing their foes to death. No, beyond that. Cylene let out a bellowing cry, shaking the air and no one dared to stop her. Rene was pinned down by her exhausted comrade while shouting bloody murders after turning an enemy’s face to mimic the bloodstained dirt underneath her old boots.

  There is one st simirity, neither was the highest in their respective world. One was a hero but of a tiny domain beneath many old pyers’ dead accounts. The other was a repceable grunt. Cylene knows the sting of incompetency and of inadequacy, and Rene knows the feeling of uselessness and hopelessness. Now, it is different…

  I was soon yanked back from my stupor. Diego and Meredith have been trying to get me back to lucidity. My bodyguards have been subtly inserting themselves into the scene under the guise of helping, I know because the distinct vibration on my device when they are around getting more frequent.

  “You ok there, private?”

  “M- You should help the medical unit, you must be stressed with working for so long. We would take it from here…”

  ‘To hell with this…’ This might be a fantastical dream that never happen, this might be a nightmare, or even me rotting somewhere in an asylum or a goddamn underground sex trafficking… But I sure as hell won’t let myself half-assing it.

  For all I care, I might be in a coma somewhere too, and when I wake up all these heroic acts are meaningless… Better I end up with nothing, or soul-crushing disappointment when I return to the real world than regret it all when proven that this is my new reality.

  I smashed my helmet on the ground, visors and all. Everyone around me had gone dead silent after they saw who I truly was. Inhaling and filling my lungs, I take in this reality. My lips were pursed so tight I must be looking like an emotionless automaton.

  “I have seen enough, and I was proven right that mere papers sprawled on my desk won’t do justice.” I exhaled a cold vapor out of her lips, perhaps a thousand words lost to the wind. Adopting a commanding posture, my lips fired out orders in rapid succession.

  “You three get any avaible medical team here immediately. If not, then ask for help from anyone.” They snapped on attention and complied with my words. I looked back at Diego, the man was both frightened and awed.

  “Diego, was it?”

  “Y-Yes, Your Grace. I apologize for my-”

  “If you have time to apologize, get any avaible personnel here to help us. Now!”

  “Understood!”

  “Meredith I want a portion of my Grasdivi units to sweep the area. Issue a warning to any Rebels they located only once, they had strayed from my grace while those loyal to me were suffering the consequences. I have no desire to save those who turned on their brothers and sisters, get to it! Deference or death!”

  “Your words shall be done!”

  Words I had long forgotten had truly been uttered and flowed smoothly off my lips. Orders were sorted, sent, and confirmed while personnel were perfectly allocated like looking at the back of my hand. I signaled Meredith to end this stupid game of mine, I should have not hesitated. Unlike then, my words can be utilized with ever greater potency.

  Time went by into a blur and I found myself ordering not dozens, but myriads of people; thousands and more of them possibly. An old mess hall was turned into a temporary command office, and I found myself stamping documents, making calls, and going back in and out to the field to help with evacuation and retrieval. One extra hand is better than none while I wait for further updates.

  “I want a company to sweep along the canal, sabotage on the bridge could spell disaster to our people here. Do watch for any UXO or perhaps our own negligence.”

  “It will be done, Your Grace.”

  “Meredith, when will the 7th Sentry Wing arrive?”

  “They will be here in 30 minutes my dy. Western Air Marshal had also reported that a hideout was confirmed to be hidden beneath Soligra Forest.”

  “Drop what’s left of our tear gas stockpile. If they still stubbornly holds out, use nerve gases, haze of chlorine, dump them with napalm, or even hydrochloric acid. I want those fools dead.” Meredith trembled while standing. I like her adherence to rule, but this is not the time and we have no reason to adhere such rules too strictly.

  “Are you sympathizing with those terrorists who brought misery on our people?” She shakes her head rapidly.

  “Good, make it quick, the more time we waste on these disgraceful scums; ungrateful hogs and swine, the more those in need shall suffer. Don’t let our priorities in a reverse, send them to hell and help our people climb up from one.” Her eyes shook at my btant disregard on rules of war.

  ‘I don’t have time for this…’

  “I did not recall speaking with a deaf mutt or idiotic mute, or did I?” Raising my voice is enough to make her gone ghastly pale. Her frightened face made me scowled at how easy it is to terrify people, but if that works on my advantage then I’ll use it.

  “B-By your will!” She briskly walked towards the communication officer, reying orders and authorization. I turned my attention to another personnel waiting for direction. Good thing putting up a fa?ade and doing background works has been my repertoire from that accursed World War.

  “What’s the status with the 14th Search and Rescue Detachment?”

  “They encountered difficulties in terms of transportation.”

  “Reroute the 11th Supply Company to support them. I want 2 helicopters providing overwatch.”

  “Your Grace, we received the telegram.” I take it off from the soldier’s hand who scampered off back to his duty. Digesting the report id inside, my minds are divided into multi-task orders and assignments. I should have been tired, but I didn’t. If anything, I feel like I would be suffering from insomnia from how much I need to fix things around now.

  ‘Screw sleep, my brain would not let me do so and I will be damned if this whole mess wasn’t taken cared off rapidly.’

  Then I received word that the medical center is having a hard time keeping up with the influx of wounded people. My legs were already on the move while a radio operator trailed behind me. My lips had been talking for hours, while my eyes inspected the surroundings. Broken down bridges, destroyed houses, pre-fab locations, and camps for more soldiers and volunteers start trailing in.

  This pce reminds me of my tour back in Eboracum, which was bombed to hell. The city was blessed with more than 20.000 tons worth of explosives. The result? Those Gaelic bastards only go full-blown guerril war and mix with a mujahideen-esque style of warfare instead of being intimidated. I am pretty darn impressed, the little old me could never keep up that long.

  Public order doesn’t seem to be a problem for now. While strolling around the pier, I catch a glimpse of more memories… Like an old recording, a surge of memories when Cylene does a routine inspection of Regalian armadas fshed quickly. I could see a reflection of a conflicting nature, she sees the departure of the doomed, in hindsight, Northern Fleet with the looks a mother would give when sending their children to war.

  While facing the sea, I could hear hasty footsteps heading in my direction. My hand was already on the handle of the revolver, but my caution wasn’t warranted for long. The footsteps grew slower and finally turned into a disciplined gait.

  “Colonel Evan Uriel bid you welcome to Nova Elesia! M-my utmost and heartfelt apology, my Grand Autarch. I was not privy to your arrival.” Turning my head back, I inspected a grizzled and battered Colonel who was still sweating. He looks like a mix of Western and Eastern Caucasian, he is taller than me but from his eyes it feels like our stature was reversed instead.

  ‘He looks tired as hell… Hmm… well, that’s my fault…’

  “At ease, Colonel. Where is your commanding officer?”

  “Pardon me Your Grace, but General Alex had passed away just yesterday due to illness… Excluding Your Grace currently controlling and coordinating the influx of assets, Field Marshal Olga Caligo who has been relieved from her post, and her former subordinates conducting sweeping operations, I’m the highest-ranking officer in the city.”

  “I see, I pray that his soul found respite and his sacrifice to not be a vain endeavor.”

  “Your words has honored the dead, Your Grace… then how may I be of service?” I almost forgot about the reason I even left the makeshift office. So I asked him where he had been or what was he doing.

  “I arrived unexpectedly, surely you have been busy.”

  “N-no Your Grace, your presence takes precedence above all, else-”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  “… I was overseeing and redirecting medical staffs that are treating the wounded and sick… Your Grace… the dastardly rebels had yet to cease their warmongering…” He spat out bitterly, and I understand that feeling. No matter how hard I tried to keep things harmonious, outliers will exist. NIIO make them explode in feverish dream of freedom.

  If it were anywhere else, I’ll agree. Back in there near SIEZ though? Not a chance, the Commonwealth used to work because I have my mates with me… but the 4th World War destroy that bance.

  “Splendid work, now take me to them.” With that I discretely gnced at one of my bodyguards, they nodded and started contacting my auxiliary force for extra help. I know because the secure channel only used by me and GSA turned online.

  POV: Narrator.

  The Grand Autarch made her way onto the field hospital, precisely located on what was once a pza of Nova Elesia; its center and pride as a city with rich history. The city was both a trading hub and military dockyard, now it is nothing more than a smoldering ruin of charred bck ground and broken facets of civilization. This city was fairly unique because its safety allowed them to grow more vibrantly compared to their southern cousins' simplistic, and perhaps brutalist, take on efficiency.

  Years of relentless artillery bombardment and rge scale strategic air raids changed everything about the isoted city. Merchant League and Firms' underground basements turned into wartime supply depots, which made them ripe for spies’ meddling or sabotage and saturation strikes.

  Factories for luxury or civilian cars that were all the rage for both domestic and international markets were turned into onsite weapons factories; products were often used instantly and sent out without any paint or markings. The local, natural, greeneries and parks where children and their families could enjoy a nice little picnic are now a series of trenches and darkened soil; a perfect breeding ground for disease and pgue. Those were but tiny fragments of this once beautiful ndscape…

  The Grand Autarch, from the eyes of everyone who sees her, takes in the surroundings calmly but with a shade of sadness. Her golden eyes which should have struck fear into the stoutest of hearts are now singing silently in agony. Soldiers, militias, and civilians saluted their leader but she waved them off and mutely told them to not mind her and to continue with reconstruction efforts.

  Her silent pilgrimage made its way onto the strewn-about medical tents and facilities, a hubbub of activity, frantic movements and intermixed with silent sobs of failed operations, to save just one more life. She takes in the surroundings from the sidelines, none of the doctors or medical staff paid her any mind and she frankly couldn’t care less and commended them for such concentration. Her eyes then nded square on a soldier whose eyes were covered with bandages while lying limply on the makeshift medical bed since he lost both of his legs.

  Thinking quickly, she motioned her guards to start helping around, she believed them to have more than simple medical expertise. Not to mention that the number of wounded people would cause problems, but she would try her best. Even if it only satiated her ego matters little when the goal stays the same.

  The medical staff thus realized that someone they couldn’t fathom appearing amid a crisis would be here. One of the senior doctors hurriedly approached her, yet she signaled them to stay quiet and return to their duty while she kneel beside a wounded person. She could not ascertain who they are since 50-70% of their body has been bandaged, albeit leaving much to be desired.

  Her eyes scan their badly bandaged leg; a hasty job at best or the doctors are getting fatigued from working non-stop. She rolled up her sleeve and pulled her gloves, fetched the nearby bowl of clean water, washed her hands, and started treating the wound carefully. Like she had thought beforehand, improperly bandaged wounds end up causing blood to drip slowly; more than enough to kill them eventually. Cylene pondered at just how overworked the medicals staffs are to make this sort of mistake, but that can wait.

  Her hands moved with a dexterity that defied normality. Wounds were cleaned, blood was stopped, and the new bandages were fastened. She moves from one patient to the next; causing the medical tent to watch in stunned silence. Sensing that the medical staff suddenly stops; she shouts.

  “Don’t just stand there like imbeciles, move!” Her words woke them up from their stupor, and the medical tent’s activity was reinvigorated once more. With order restored, she continued her treatments. A part of her was surprised at her proficiency, while she did serve as a reserve medic at one point from the previous world, she was never this precise nor rapid.

  Still, she is only a pair of hands amongst many; wholly insufficient. She doesn’t forget about the outside world and multi-tasked to focus on just saving one more life, she has many things to do and too little time for it. Needless to say, her sudden intervention ended up more than just being mildly encouraging. To ensure a steady and unbroken line of communication, she took the radio and used it herself while ordering the former radioman to start helping with what he could.

  Minutes turned into hours, and by the tail end of the evening, more of her private army arrived. Bringing along the much-needed supplies, breathing room, and a surprising contingent…

  What contingent? Let’s just say they’re the go-to people in spinning tales around.

  [END OF CHAPTER]

  Author’s Note:

  Yo there, this is me, me, and I, the author who was bashing his head for ideas.

  Helicopters used for this little field trip are based on S-72 which was enrged by 20% for her personal use and another was used to lift her car.

  The PDW is essentially a carbine because it shot 5.56 NATO instead of 9-Parabellum and was considered an event item because the technology to create it had yet to exist. Think of it as a combination of Belkan Witchcraft further perfected by German Engineering and Russian’s industriousness when designing the PTRD with Stalin’s explicit encouragement.

  Ciao.