The Desolation of Warsaw

A Collection of Red Alert 3 Fan Fiction Short Stories – Soviets



Story One – The Desolation of Warsaw



Sergeant Grigory Platov was holed up with his squad in a ruined building in the old industrial complex in the middle of Warsaw. They had been sent to capture an old factory which could then have been used to repair their Hammer Tanks and Bullfrogs. The problem was that the Allies had reached it first, and were proving far too stubborn to shift with the weapons they had at their disposal.



His second, Junior Sergeant Abramova was yelling down the radio for reinforcements. "A MiG strike, some war bears, even a conscript company Comrade Major, but we need reinforcements and we need them now!", Abramova bellowed, and then slammed the radio down before the Major had a chance to respond. He looked over at Grigory with a grimace that suggested that they were not only in danger of losing the factory to the Allies, but being pushed back from the area entirely. He sighted down his AKD-45 Assault Rifle and opened fire at the Peacekeepers occupying the sandbagged fortifications in front of the factory, but their tall riot shields protected them from most of the incoming fire. He cursed and ducked back behind the wall, wondering where in the name of Mother Russia his reinforcements were, as all Abramova was getting over the radio was static. Suddenly he heard a clanking sound from behind him and turned just in time to see the wall behind him explode outwards, and two hulking figures stride through the rubble, wheezing breaths emerging from the grilles at the front of their armour, and the tanks on the back sloshing and clunking under the weight of whatever it was that was inside them.



He caught Abramova's glance at him and moved back towards him. "What in Stalin's name are they", he whispered. Abramova's only reply was "Desolators". Grigory's face paled as terror swept through him. He had of course heard about these shock troops, apparently taken from the triage stations at Omsk and turned into something that wasn't entirely human, but he had always dismissed the claims as hearsay and fantasy and as stories told by frightened conscripts around the mess hall table, and yet here they were, standing in front of him as large as life. The first Trooper clanked towards him and he feared that the thing inside would turn his weapons onto them. He edged forward slowly until he was standing in front of it, looking up into the grille and trying to discern what sort of thing was inside it. Before he could find out, the Trooper bent down and whispered something in a whisper so chilling that it was all he could do not to run away.



"Where... is... the... enemy... comrade?"



He pointed towards the factory with a quivering finger and the Troopers lumbered off. As soon as they cleared the building, the Peacekeepers opened up, and it gave Grigory a small amount of satisfaction that all the fire was just bouncing off the heavy armour. However, he was not prepared for what came next. The lead Desolator suddenly stopped and pointed the nozzles of his weapon towards the Allied troops and sprayed a green liquid to them. Those troops that were caught directly under the spray just disintegrated, leaving nothing but skeletons on the ground, whilst those who had been partially hit ran around screaming and wailing as the liquid burnt, blistered and eat through their skin. Even the riot shields of the Peacekeepers melted under the torrent of toxic liquid. It took less than five minutes for the Desolators to clear the factory, and then they moved off, intent on clearing out the rest of the Allied forces in the city.



Grigory Platov moved his squad up, wary of any puddles of toxic liquid that could damage his men, but there was nothing left except for the skeletons of the Allied troops that had garrisoned the building. He got Abramova to radio HQ and tell them that they could move the tanks and repair crews up as they had retaken the tank factory. He then looked out on the ruined city and could not help but feel a pang of pity for his enemy, as they had no idea what a painful death awaited them at the hands of the Desolator Troopers. He also knew that he would never ever forget the screams of the enemy soldiers who had died there, nor the chilling whisper of the thing that had talked to him.