Comrade Dvochev has been a ruthless enforcer of the revolution. Royals and their dogs, Bourgeoisie and their mercenaries, Traitors to the cause and their foolish hangers on, even Old Friends and their families.
But now the boss’s eye is falling on Dvochev himself. Might be time to take a long vacation overseas and get lost while doing so, as retirement packages for those in his position are usually measured in caliber… -- Deathshead419
The mistake that all revolutionary idealists make, the same mistake of every authoritarion does. They believe, heartfelt, that the world would be a better place if people just behaved. And then they micromanage exactly what "good behaviour" means and then enforcing it by law.
Thus, revolutions and authoritarians alike require their dogs.
Irakliy Dvochev was the Glorious Leader's attack dog, and he knew it. The most savage. The most ruthless. The most obedient. Held at the Glorious Leader's heel by nothing more than a look or a simple gesture. People who saw him were glad to, because then they knew where he was. If they couldn't see him, that meant that he could be behind them, or at your house... doing things to their family and friends.
Irakliy was the means by which the Glorious Leader kept his hands clean. The means by which the machinery of the Revolution ground the enemy into mincemeat. The method used most "pour encourager les autres."
Sometimes, all he had to do was stand in a corner and radiate raw menace.
The terrified subjugate listening to the gentle words of the Glorious Leader would have their eyes fixed on Irakliy. Making certain the Glorious Leader's attack dog didn't even twitch. They would agree to anything so long as Irakliy remained as still as a stone.
He was a good dog.
He listened to his master's voice. Obeyed his master's commands. Found ways to eliminate even those who had the best measures to stop him. He could infiltrate any compound to send a definite message to all.
He was a smart dog.
Smart enough to sense when the Revolution, as Revolutions do, turned around.
It is truth that, the tighter one hangs on to power, the more of it slips through one's fingers. The Glorious Leader had a vice-like grip on his power, and raged as he squeezed tighter and tighter. He surrounded himself with lickspittles and yes-men, who all feared Irakliy. Who all whispered poison into the Glorious Leader's ear.
Irakliy was a very smart dog. He smelled the winds of change ahead of time, and took some time to speak to the Glorious Leader in private. Before the poison could take root.
"I have been working hard for you," he said. "I would take some time away to rest and relax."
"Ah? It is well overdue, I do admit," said the Glorious Leader. And, because he too feared not seeing Irakliy, he added, "Where will you be taking your well-earned ease?"
"I shall be hiking," said Irakliy, and named the most dangerous mountain wilds in the land.
The Glorious Leader relaxed a little. Accidents were tremendously easy to arrange in those mountains, assuming that they didn't happen organically. "I wish you a very pleasant holiday."
Irakliy packed a single backpack, and included the gold and jewelry he'd been able to hoard from his grim work. He left no trace of his plans behind, and his key under the front door welcome mat. After all, that would make them even more afraid.
He did not go to the mountains. The Glorious Leader could spend his armies and lickspittles on trying to find any trace of him there. He went through the wilderness, true, and walked all the way to a neighbouring nation who would be glad of his knowledge.
Nothing was more dangerous to the Revolution than a savage dog who had turned away from his master.
Irakliy hoped that he would haunt the Glorious Leader's nightmares.
[Photo by Jeroen Bosch on Unsplash]
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