As the plane touched down at Moscow airport, Andrei stepped onto the tarmac.
Under normal circumstances, the return of a head of state from an international conference would be marked by rows of senior officials, military honors, maybe even a carefully selected crowd waving flags.
But that was the old Soviet Union.
Andrei didn't want any of that.
The moment he set foot on the red carpet, he was greeted instead by a full company of AK-47-wielding Middle Eastern beauties, smiling brightly as if they were part of a parade.
"Welcome back, Mr. President~"
No man could honestly say he hated this arrangement.
Unfortunately, the person standing beside him was not a man.
"This is not what it looks like.," Andrei said hurruidly . "This is just a cultural exchange program."
Agent Maria Hill's expression remained cold and unreadable, but the disgust in her eyes was obvious.
After the coup, in an effort to cut losses, Andrei had terminated nearly all foreign aid overnight. The move sparked outrage across half the world.
Many leaders summoned Soviet ambassadors, delivering long, furious lectures, writing ten-page theses on bilateral relations, ideological foundations, historical responsibility.
Andrei didn't bother reading any of it.
But one of them had a different approache to this
"Oh, Gaddafi, you dirty dog," Andrei thought, "You really are a true comrade."
As he walked past, even Andrei felt a hint of second-hand embarrassment. Everyone around him gave that look.
Man, I know you just saved the country, he thought, but please , restrain yourself.
But once again, there was one guy with a completely different attitude.
"Comrade Andrei, you're back!" the man shouted enthusiastically. "How did you like my presentation? Isn't that right, ladies?"
With a clap of his hands, the female bodyguard battalion answered in unison:
"Hello, Comrade Mao! Hello, Comrade Andrei! We wish you a wonderful day and a very good night in bed!"
Even Andrei, who normally would have enjoyed this kind of thing, couldn't help but cringe as he watched the man humiliate himself so openly.
The man was Mao Rouzoky. Thanks to his father's time as an ambassador to China, he carried the name proudly. A man of enormous appetite and boundless lust, he also happened to be Andrei's best friend.
After the coup, Andrei had rewarded him with the post of Minister of Culture,a harmless position, or so he thought. Clearly, Mao wasn't satisfied with "harmless."
"Oh, it seems I arrived a little late," Mao said glancing at Hill. "But that's to be expected. Women simply can't help themselves. Just as expected of the great soviet leader and my comrade-in-arms."
At that point, even Maria Hill took a step away from Andrei.
He knew the situation was beyond saving.
Sighing, Andrei grabbed Mao by the arm and pulled him aside.
"Brother," he muttered, "just stop. Haven't you seen how everyone's reacting?"
"But brother," Mao protested earnestly, "I prepared so much for this!"
"…Prepared what?"
"Well, first we go to a Chinese massage parlor," Mao said, counting on his fingers. "Then a Japanese hot spring. After that, a French masked party in Leningrad—"
Andrei was genuinely aghast. How could one person possibly have that much stamina?
.....
"Was it too little?" Mao asked seriously.
"No, brother," Andrei replied, rubbing his temples. "It's just that today we have a lot of important reviews. Put all that… down for now."
"Oh, don't worry about that," Mao said cheerfully. "I have something important too."
"…What?"
"It's about the beauty corps," Mao said. "It seems some people are getting jealous."
Andrei had his mouth half-open listening to the next part.
Originally, the All-Republic Complaints Office had been set up so ordinary Soviet citizens could anonymously report corrupt officials and administrative abuse. In theory, it was a vital channel of public supervision. In practice, given recent events, it had been almost completely empty.
Which was why Comrade Mao was utterly unprepared for what he saw.
The "first" complaint file on his desk was about the arbitrary recruitment of female bodyguards.
Apparently, famale citizens expected jobs to be filled through normal procedures.
It turned out they were deeply unhappy that Andrei had chosen foreigne woman to form his personal guard battalion.
"Come on," Andrei said. "These are just a few isolated cases, right?"
Mao coughed. "About ten thousand complaints in Moscow alone. Do you still think it's not relevant?"
Andrei's brain briefly short-circuited.
Soviet women already enjoyed far more equality than their counterparts elsewhere, and yet this, made absolutely no sense .
*Is this some kind of national Stockholm syndrome? You must absolutely braindead to this is some 'job'. * he wondered.
"I really don't understand this country at all."
Seeing Andrei's predicament, Mao leaned in conspiratorially.
"You know, I actually have a solution," he said. "Though I stole it from the Americans."
"What is it?" Andrei asked. "I don't mind."
"Why don't we hold a beauty pageant?" Mao said enthusiastically. "Like Miss Universe—but better. We'll call it Miss Bodyguard. Contestants will be evaluated on their looks, their gun handling( both literal and figurative), bikini performance, big personality, firearms—"
He trailed off, clearly realizing he hadn't thought this through very far.
"Alright, alright, I get it. Fine. Go ahead."Andrei interrupted, as if to make sure Mao didn't doubt himself.
"And we should broadcast it," Mao added. "Don't you think our television is painfully boring? When I was in America, they literally put half-naked women on billboards. No wonder they're so good at controlling public opinion."
The last remarks put him out of horniness.
Yes. That was one of the superpowers of a "free country" , the ability to let people indulge freely, to rot comfortably. Plenty of young people in the Soviet Union had already caught that virus and lost themselves to it. How could horny teenagers be expected to understand long lectures about class struggle and historical materialism?
Andrei made a quiet mental note.
"Fine," he said . "Do whatever you want. And send me the details later."
He turned and walked away , as if just took a momentous decision.
He knew he had just caught onto something useful.