I had plenty of time to think about the stupidity of my actions as we sat in a small back room. The place was stripped bare, with no more than a dangling light bulb and a drain in the floor. The tiny windows were high up in the cement block walls. I got the impression this wasn't the first time they had used it as a prison cell.

Colonel Mazur leaned against the wall with his arms folded and didn't quite look at me. They didn't put Piotr in with us.

"So, I got the impression you know this man, this Lenin.”

I rubbed my jaw, then checked that my mustache was still secured. "Yeah, kinda."

"What do you mean, 'kinda'?" he asked, his voice calm but with an unsettling undercurrent.

"He existed in my world. And he led a movement that did unimaginable harm," I explained.

"Hmm." The colonel made a non-committal noise. "So he isn't trustworthy?"

I started to speak and then stopped. I thought about it. What did I really know about Lenin? I wasn't a history buff, so I'd only heard a few things. That the takeover of Russia by the Reds had been characterized by a lot of violence and terrorism. Probably on both sides, but definitely on the Red Army's side. Had that been Lenin's doing? I didn't know. I thought he had been involved, but honestly, I wasn't sure.

"I don't know," I finally admitted.

The colonel nodded. "So, tell me more about this movement he led."

"Well, Russia had been a pretty crappy place to be for a while, and Lenin and some others rallied a lot of workers to start a rebellion. They overthrew the czar. Not this one. The one before. His dad or whatever."

"Father-in-law," the colonel interjected.

"Oh, yeah, I guess so," I said.

"When did this happen?"

"It was during World War I," I said, and then stopped. I tried not to say too many things about the history of our world since this one had diverged, and I wasn't sure by how much.

"World War One." He emphasized the number.

"Yeah, look, that would have already happened by now, so I try not to talk too much about the history of my world. This world’s different, and I don't know by how much."

"But enough to be hostile to this Lenin.”

“Look, yeah, I know I messed up. But..." I tried to get my thoughts in order. I was grasping at straws here, and I knew it. "Look, this guy's bad news. His movement's bad news. It's bad news to the world, but it's especially bad news to Tsar Alexander. Their philosophy..." I shook my head, trying to find the words. "These guys won't compromise with him. They can't. It's completely against everything they stand for to let him stay in power in any way, shape, or form. To them, he's gotta go."

"You speak of the ideology they had in your world," Mazur pressed.

I turned that over in my mind. Were they actually commies here? I nodded. "From their rhetoric, I'd bet good money it's the same here. They call for the complete overthrow of all ruling classes, and giving the power to the working class. But the reality ends up being they just put a new breed of rulers in place of the old ones. Strip the workers of any real rights and freedom, and then tell them how much better off they are."

"You saw those peasant villages we passed through," Mazur said with a gesture towards the window. "Are you sure they're not better off?"

I looked up, meeting his eyes. Anger flared in me, and I let a tiny bit of it get into my voice. "They starved millions to death just to consolidate their power. And millions more through incompetence. The only way they ever had a functioning economy was by caving to capitalist influences. And then they ended up with a system of corruption that put anything in the West to shame."

Mazur studied me for a long moment, as if weighing the validity of my words by the certainty on my face. “And you're absolutely certain he can't be trusted in this world or yours?"

"I'd bet my life on it."

"You already have," he said.

I gritted my teeth, but didn't say anything.

The colonel was silent for a long, several minutes. "We're going to have to make deals and do things we don't like. We're not trying to save Russia, and we're not trying to save the world. We're just trying to end the war with Poland."

I met his eyes again. “Poland was conquered by this movement, once they finished with Russia. And they were kept subjugated for decades.”

His lips tightened, but he didn't answer for several long moments. "Like I said, we're going to have to do things we don't like. I think I can make a deal with one of his subordinates. But it's going to be up to what the Tsar is willing to do. And I don't know if I'm going to be able to get you out of this."

I grimaced. "What chances did I have? You think his lieutenant's more reasonable?"

Mazur gave a half of a shrug. "Maybe. He's the take-charge type and he seems to get stuff done. So maybe we can work with him. He's a man named Stalin. Know him?"

I swore.

Sometime later, they came and took Colonel Mazur away. They did not bring Piotr back.

It was hours more before the door opened again.

The communist goons filed into the room one after another. There were six of them, and they all had stout, wooden bats. One final man, scrawny compared to the others, entered and remained by the door. He had a revolver that he held loosely in one hand. "Comrade Lenin wishes to send you a little message."

"Really?" I stared back at the pistol man, ignoring the others. "And here I just thought he was going to drag me out somewhere and shoot me."

The man grinned. One of his teeth was gold. This was not your average Russian laborer.

"Abomination. He still has uses for you. But he thinks you need a little softening up first."

"Softening, huh?" I put my hands on my hips and motioned to the closest thug. "Alright, show me what you got."

The man eyed me with some trepidation. He was big, I'll give him that, only half a head shorter than myself. He had that lean, wiry muscle of a man who works for a living, but he certainly had plenty of it. Finally, he stepped forward and hauled back with his stick.

Thud.

A hunk of wood smacked into my midriff. I didn't react. My lack of reaction momentarily surprised the man. He hesitated before pulling his stick back. I reached out and plucked it from his hands.

"Oh, what do you got there? Hickory? Bah, that won't be enough." I took the two-foot length of wood in my hands and snapped it in half. The revolver came up and pointed at my chest.

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"Whoa, whoa, whoa." I held my hands wide with a piece of stick in each one. "I'm not resisting. I was just pointing out that your tool was inadequate. Take it easy."

The gun-wielding man relaxed fractionally. I took that as a good sign.

"I'm going to drop the stick now, so don't go jerking your trigger when it goes banging to the floor, alright?" I dropped the pieces of wood. In the still room, they cracked into the ground like gunshots, and I had to resist the urge to wince. At least two of the stick-wielding thugs jumped at the sound.

"Okay, okay," I pointed to the next man. "Now it's your turn. Let's see if your stick's any better."

This man's face contorted in anger as he stepped forward. Apparently, my mockery didn't sit well. He raised his stick high and swung for my head.

Crack! The hickory rod smacked into my palm as I caught it in the air. "No, no, not the face. Didn't you hear what he said?" I waggled a finger at the muscle-bound thug. "Comrade Lenin has a use for me, and I'm pretty sure he'd want everyone to recognize me as a golem." I lifted my finger and traced my jawline. "So don't mess up my striking features, alright?"

The man snarled and yanked his stick back. I let it go. He stumbled two steps back when the stick came easily from my hand. "Come on, right here. We're trying to establish if the tools you've brought are adequate for the task. So don't hold back." I pointed to my taut abs. "Give me your best shot."

The man was shaking with rage now. He hauled back as if he was going to swing, and then, in what he probably thought was a sneaky move, he quickly shifted his grip and jabbed at me with the end of the stick as if it was a short spear to my gut. The narrow end actually smarted a little as it bounced off my rock-hard six-pack.

This man was ready when I went to take the stick from him. He actually resisted a little. My grip was firm enough that when I ripped the wooden shaft from his hands, he stumbled forward. I put out a hand and caught him by the top of the shoulder. "Whoa, careful now," I said, and then I dug my fingers hard in.

His jaw dropped in a gasp, but as he was close to me, no one else in the room could see his expression. My thick fingers dug deep into his shoulder muscles, and I felt the bones underneath creak. His breath came out in a long gasp. He probably would have cried out if he had had the air for it.

I gently shoved him back and let go. He stumbled back two steps and stood there rubbing his shoulder. “Now let's see if this stick of yours is any better.” I pretended to inspect the implement. "Not bad, not bad, but I really think you picked a tree that just wasn't a strong one. Look here." I held it out in front of me, one hand on either end. They all focused intently on the shaft. They were absolutely silent, and when my grip tightened on the wood, the creak of flesh on wood could be easily heard.

Crack.

“Now see here.” I held up the stick and pointed at the broken end. "See this grain? Why, even a child could have broken it?"

They leaned forward to get a better look.

I slugged the closest man in the jaw.

The others moved in but I was already past them. I plucked the revolver from the weasel-faced man's grip with ease.

What followed was a desperate melee. I resisted killing any of them, so I took some hard hits. Slapping them around was easy. Slapping them around without breaking too many of their bones, that was hard.

Less than a minute later, only one man still stood on his feet. He wasn't the biggest of the thugs, but he had been the quickest. He gasped for breath and swayed, but still looked defiant. I held the gunman in one hand and his gun in the other. "Now let's talk about how this is going to go," I said. "I'm just as interested in you and seeing what Comrade Lenin has in store for me. So I'm going to give you your gun back. You boys look like the biggest and toughest around here, so I'm not going to embarrass you by breaking you into small pieces. You!" I gestured with the gun at the man still on his feet. "You saw what I did. Tell me honestly. Do you think I couldn't have broken you in half if I had meant to?"

He tried to snarl, but was still gasping for air. His hands were up in a boxer’s stance, but he was favoring his ribs on one side.

"Come now, be honest, man. It isn't fair that I'm a massive slab of artificial flesh. There's nothing to be ashamed of about being beaten by an unholy creation of twisted science."

I stabbed a finger at him and the man jumped back, but then winced and stumbled. I'm pretty sure some of his ribs were cracked, if not broken.

"Listen up. I'm going to do you a favor. We're going to go out of here, and I'm going to put on the show of just how badly you guys kicked my ass." Confusion passed over the standing man. One of the other ones groaned and rolled over. "We'll leave all the sticks here, and I'll even give this guy his little gun back." I shook the gunman in my hand. I realized he was turning purple because I was holding him off the ground by his shirt front. I lowered him down so he could stand. "I promise to go quietly.” for a while, I didn't add out loud. "As your prisoner. We can all go see what sort of spectacle Comrade Lenin has in store."

"You can't escape," the gunman gasped. "There's hundreds of us."

"I know, I know," I said in a patronizing tone. "And many of you probably have guns. So there's nothing to worry about, taking my little deal. Leave your sticks here, and let's all go see what your boss wants."

"He's not our..." the gunman started to say. I lifted him back off his feet and pulled him close to me. "Shut up." I growled.

The man moved his mouth like a fish a couple of times, but then fell silent. I dropped him onto his feet and gave him a gentle shove backwards. He bounced off the far wall.

Two more of the men had managed to sit up by now and were staring at me with wide eyes. The embedded skills I had received at gunplay allowed me to do what I did next. I turned and, under cover of a fake cough, flipped open the revolver and emptied its shells into my other hand. I stepped forward and said, in a sharp tone which covered the cylinder snapping closed, "Take your gun back and relax. We're all friends here."

The thugs started to stand and help each other to their feet. I held the revolver out to the gunman. After a moment's hesitation, he took it.

He quickly swung it around to point at me with a shaky aim. "You won't get away with this."

"Relax. There's no way I can get away from your little band alive. So there's no harm in let's go see what Mr. Lenin wants."

He sat there considering. I know he desperately wanted to pull the trigger, and I kind of wanted to see the expression on his face when he did. But afterwards, I'd probably have to kill them all.

I just needed them to see that I was letting them save face. Honestly, I felt I'd be justified in just disposing of them here. We were at war and I was kind of a prisoner of war. Even if I wasn't being held by the official forces. In my book, I was on a combat mission and lethal force was authorized to accomplish it.

The gambit was a risky one, but I really did want to know more about what Lenin had in mind. Were Piotr and Mazur still here, being held somewhere else? I doubted it. I expected he had given them a firm talking-to reestablish his shattered nerves, and then sent them off. I was sure he would do almost anything to get his hands on the Tsar and he would try to play nice until he had that opportunity.

Would that mean he would keep me alive until he had the Tsar within his reach? Maybe, but I wasn’t counting on it. From what I had heard from the Colonel, Lenin had information we needed.

Something big was going on in St. Petersburg. The Tsar seemed to know something about it, but he hadn't been very forthcoming. I suspected that was why the Colonel hadn't protested too much when I roughed up the First Comrade.

It took a while, but finally all the men were on their feet, nursing their injuries. I selected two who looked like their ribs were mostly intact. "You and you!"

They both flinched.

"We're going to go out there, and you're going to support me like I'm as beat up as the rest of these guys are."

They looked at each other with confused expressions.

I sighed, "I'm going to pretend you beat the shit out of me, and all of your friends are going to think you guys are serious badasses."

The light slowly dawned in several sets of beady eyes. "Fat chance of that," the one who had still been on his feet at the end said. "Not when we look like this."

I smiled at him, and he glared back. "Oh, all your bruises will just show everyone what a tough fight it was It just makes you that much more impressive that you thrashed a big abomination like me."

He seemed to grudgingly accept it. Which was good, because I needed these guys to play along and make it convincing.

I stepped towards the two I had selected, and they took a half step back. "Come now, stand still." It was comical the way they cowered. I slumped forward and threw my arms wide across both of their shoulders. They shook under my grip, and I almost felt sorry for the thug bruisers. These guys were communist enforcers. How many people's kneecaps had they broken? How many times had they shaken down factory foremen, or held their families hostage? What little I knew about the communist revolution told me there had been a lot of terrorism and murder. There had probably been atrocities on both sides, but I knew these boys' hands couldn't be clean.

I tightened both my arms around them with just enough steel to remind them that I was fresh, and they weren't. They staggered under my weight but stayed up. I relented a little, still trying to make it look good.

"All right," I growled. "Let's go."

The wiry one opened the door, and my two bearers got me through it with some difficulty. Or rather, I maneuvered the two of them through it while pretending I was slumped against them.

As a troop, we made our way down the hall. Two armed guards were standing outside the door.

"That was quick," one of the guards said.

"What did he do to you?" the other one asked as he caught sight of the battered appearance of my crew of thugs.

"He was a tough one," the wiry guy said. The taut note in his voice was clearly anger at being forced to go along with my deception, but it made the act convincing.

“Man, he really wrung you guys out.”

"Not as bad as we did tohim," the man snapped.

"Whoa, sorry. I can see that." The guard was apologetic.

I groaned and carefully kept my features slack as I resisted the urge to grin.