Four weeks after the world has gone insane. Paris, Ustio Loyalist territory.

Dana Elvidge stops by the community kitchen, depositing two bags of food on a pepping table. A kitchen staff, who has been waiting for those, immediately steps in to peruse the content, analyzing just what sorts of food can they make now. The staff gratefully nods at Dana as the secretary moves further into the kitchen.

"Dana!" Said a middle-aged woman wearing a dirtied apron. The woman methodically stirs a pot of soup with a bit too much water instead of actual ingredients. "Thank goodness you are here!" The cook smiled warmly at Dana.

Dana nods at the woman while tying an apron to herself. "The Prime Minister gave me an early leave. I raided the pantry for things that could contribute to the kitchen."

"While I would normally say that you shouldn't have done that, the fact that we really need those ingredients to feed the people here means that we need all the help we can get." The cook lifts the soup pot to a distribution table while she says that. A couple of staff start serving the hot soup to the lines of hungry citizens near the kitchen. The cook takes the moment to gaze at Dana. "Truly, we are grateful that you're sticking your neck out for us."

Dana smiles while she starts cutting the vegetables by a counter. "It's just some meat loaves and military rations. Us Ustians have to stick together, am I right?"

The cook smiles wholeheartedly before helping Dana chop the ingredients. "Nicely said."

Still, just two bags of rations and some meat won't be enough to feed hundreds of people. Not to mention nearly half of them have been homeless ever since earthquakes and fire swept through Ustio and all the way to the Principality of Darscen. The shifting tectonic plates even cause a major Erusean coastal city, Farbanti, to sink beneath the waves. In short, Europe as a whole got hit hard, it makes Dana worries about the people she knows throughout the course of her life undercover. Her former roommate, her associates, the baker she used to buy croissants at... A lot has been out of contact with landlines and postal services being disrupted, not to mention the road condition being hellish to traverse in the outskirts. The only place in Paris that is relatively still intact is none other than the Capital Palace where the Prime Minister and she are now working from. Having just finished her shift, the secretary immediately made her way to help the charity staff. Call it Dana's bleeding heart, even though these people are supposed to be the enemies of her home nation.

While working at the counter, a certain old woman, dressed in layers of warm, but ragged clothing, approaches Dana's counter. A look of realization dawns on Dana's face as she gazes at the woman. The secretary stops the movement of her knife before wiping her hands clean. Stealthily reaching into her pocket, Dana pulls out a neatly folded paper in her palm before the old woman gingerly takes the secretary's hand into her own. Offering a grateful thank you and a warm smile, the old woman shakes Dana's hand with both of her own, all the while taking away the piece of paper Dana's holding. Nodding at the woman, Dana watches as she deposits the paper underneath her attire. The old lady then goes on to thank the rest of the kitchen staff as a grateful citizen.

With the secret message out of her hand, Dana carries on her self-upheld task until nighttime. She helps distribute food to approximately a hundred souls. When the food storage runs out, she's escorted by the guards assigned to her by the Prime Minister back to the palace. Thus, another day passes in the life of Dana Elvidge, a crucial undercover agent of ONI.

With Dana retiring for the day, so does the community kitchen and thus the rest of the citizens waiting for a free meal. Those who couldn't eat had no other choice but to go hungry or try and get food elsewhere. The road condition being as bad as it is now means that food import into the city isn't enough to fulfill the rising demand. This equals a stark increase in food prices, leaving those who are homeless or with their income outright destroyed desperate day in, and day out. As such, military police and checkpoints are everywhere to dissuade dissident locals.

The added security, while seemingly serious at first glance, doesn't amount to much against highly trained operatives... Or those who have a talent for subterfuge. The old woman who shook hands with Dana in the evening has now moved to a non-descript alleyway, passing by patrols without raising any suspicion. Not many would think that a hag approaching her seventy can be a spy, a fact that the old lady abuses to its full potential. Before she moves deeper into the alley, the old woman stops and rubs her palms together, both to warm herself up and to check her rear for any tail. Being a former renowned thief back in her prime, the old woman hasn't gone rusty over the years.

With the coast clear of any threats to her incognito, the old lady goes to knock a specific code on a rusty red door. Though she can't see them, there are a couple of people inside behind the door who are checking the alleyway for the Loyalists' equivalent of a counter-intelligent operative. After ten seconds, the door is opened, welcoming the old lady inside. Now in the comfort of a brick room, the woman loosened her coat while passing Dana's message to a young man. The man promptly disappears beneath an underground passage, presumably to send a coded message to whoever has been hiring the old woman's group.

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As a group of underground thieves and smugglers, making a living in the Months of Demons isn't easy. Not when most of the towns and cities are under lockdown due to the Demons and Zombies scouring the plains. Unless you're a highly equipped group of adventurers or mercenaries, you most certainly will lose your life venturing outside the safe areas. This makes consuming stolen goods, escaping the police, and smuggling contraband highly endeavors when you're confined inside the city walls. While adventures and mercenaries, with special permits to buy arms, can take a commission to kill the demonic threats for a hefty paycheck, criminals like the old lady have to adapt. So, to keep her group afloat, the old lady hooks up with her underground contacts, landing herself under the scrutiny of a certain nation's spy network. Recognizing the skills and loyalty possessed by one of, if not the longest surviving thieves' circle in all of Ustio, they're quickly commissioned to be a set of unseen hands. Relaying secret messages, making dead drops, scouting military installations, even going as far as planting false evidence a couple of times... As long as the job pays well and doesn't involve making them into assassins, a matter that betrays the moral code of the woman's underground circle, they will accept and complete it with high efficiency.

Having been acting as spies for a few years now, the circle can guess who is their employer, yet none will go out of their way to say the name out loud. Their client values their secrecy well and it will do them good to keep the veil up for as long as humanely possible. They do know that the client has a deep pocket and an absurd level of reach, this is proven by their payments being dead dropped by a neighboring group of criminals.

Knowing such information prompts the circle to be extremely careful in their operations, and day-by-day tasks. In the event of an operative being captured, they would rather out themselves as thieves instead of spies. Even then, they will never give up the rest of the circle, thus compromising everything.

Of course, there are also additional security measures. They're each given a hidden pellet of toxin disguised as sugar-coated candy if they need to use it, with the more resolute members of the circle always having it on hand. The last thing they all need is a tortured mouth that gets everyone's throats slit in the night.

While being a spy sure as Hell wasn't what the circle originally meant to be, they have to make a living somehow, not just for themselves but also their dependencies. The war with Belka has plunged Ustio into dark times and the recent calamity hasn't helped at all.

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Five weeks after the world has gone insane. Rusviet Union, military testing ground.

Unlike the shock and disruption experienced by the rest of the world, the Union incurred a surprisingly low level of damage. This makes the Rusviet Union one of the luckier countries in the entire world to escape with nothing but a bruise to show for it. Granted, Rusviet has many great plains and a scattered population, so the damage may not have registered just yet.

Still, that's not the thing that is on the minds of these army officers right now. Currently, they're all viewing a live demonstration of the newest set of armored fighting vehicles belonging to the Ural production plant.

Quellec Gagarin, the owner and the designer of these fine vehicles, introduces. "Gentlemen, may you lay your eyes on our first presentation. That, right there, is the T-50 light tank."

Quellec gestures toward the tank pit, where the T-50 crew starts mounting up. "The T-50 is an advanced design, with torsion-bar suspension, diesel engine, and well-sloped, all-welded armor. A notable feature is the commander's cupola instead of the panoramic periscopes. A break from previous Rusviet light tanks, it features a three-man turret. Additionally, the base T-50 has radios, a feature only found on the commander's vehicle of earlier light tanks."

With the start of its engine, the T-50 starts maneuvering around the range, demonstrating its agility by crossing over any obstacle on its way. "As you can see, previous generations of tanks would have found themselves stuck or unable to cross the terrain as smoothly as the T-50. Equipped with a 300-horsepower diesel inline-six engine on a 14-ton chassis, the T-50 has a power-to-weight ratio of 21 hp/ton. The torsion bar suspension keeps it going even at the best speed which is 60 km/h. With an operational range of 220 kilometers, the T-50 can go places."

The spectators watch as the T-50 comes to a stop, with its turret swinging by fast to engage a target at 400 meters range. With a booming sound, the main gun sends a shell that accurately hits the target dead center.

"While the caliber remains that of the venerable 45mm on the BT series, thus simplifying procurement, our munition plant offers additional, improved shell types for the main gun. For secondary armament, it's equipped with a DT machine gun that can also place a very respectable amount of leads down range. Other than that, the commander cupola offers increased situational awareness. The battlefield is a foggy place, it's best you see your enemy first before they see you. The radios also allow each T-50 to maintain contact with each other, and high command at all times. This makes the vehicle extremely suitable for a variety of roles like infantry support or scouting. The sloped armor, with a thickness of 37 mm at the front, makes it so that contemporary weapons will have trouble hurting it. Though as it's a light tank, it's still wiser not to get hit in the first place. Some of you may have experienced firsthand how annoying tinnitus can be."

As expected, some officers nod along with Quellec's words. The bronze-skinned man then continues. "But of course, with all of those abilities in one package, a T-50 is surely more expensive than a BT series tank. That said, while the cost of buying a T-50 is higher, the servicing cost is lower than a BT by a large margin. This is made possible due to our prioritizing a design that is easily serviceable and maintained. Parts can be swiftly replaced and have a higher tolerance than normal, making them less prone to breakage. In the long term, a T-50 can outpace the BT series in every facet. Rest assured that our production capability is more than up to par with our expanded facility."

"On a further note. We can exchange the current 45 mm gun and the machine gun for a pair of 20 mm autocannons. This will give the T-50 an unmatched firepower against soft targets." Quellec turns around to the spectators. "Though rather than just keeping a spiel, why don't you try it for yourself? See if it ticks?"

With a snap of his fingers, the exhibition staff pulls away the tarp covers that have kept more T-50s hidden away. Gesturing grandly at the T-50s, Quellec invites the officers with experience handling tanks and tankettes. "Well, gentlemen, shall we?"

With eager expression, these officers stand up and nearly rush their way over to the new toys on display. Make no mistake, there's a war coming with all the procurement orders Stalin has been making. But why not have a little bit of heavy metal fun along the way?