(PAST) RP

Put, Vejini: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ido3HgdiIzU

Silently they waited, men of the Republican guard and Socialist front, every Latvian woman and child.
They waited for the fire and the ruins of Riga, the blood of Latvian men, the cry's of widowed wives.
But out that noon's silence, no American warship shell was fired, No Soviet flash was seen, No Polish troop had been.
And for a third time in the little country's history, utter destruction had been avoided, liberty and peace had found a way, loss was not seen in that faithful noon.
The night of all night's had passed, with no shell firing, with no light glimmering, with no fight beginning.

After the long night's rest that the ancient city had no experienced in a long time, men of the RBF and Republican Guard, instead of firing bullets at each other, had cigarette's and bottles of Rigas balzams. Press had come down from New York expecting taking emotional Time's cover photos only saw friendly matches of ice hockey over iced pavements, and for the first time depressed men smiled in photographs forgetting the lifeless idiocy they had witnessed. Generals and politician's of both sides were completely forgotten , The Prime minister sat from the balcony watching blankly, without his consent men were celebrating and cheering, and how could they, how dare they not kill there brother's in pointless battle.

As there is not point, around 3,500 men returned home, leaving their posts hugging their wives after long months away. All of them weary and aged, cold and shatter'd, but non the less finally home.

And from Riga the news will spread, maybe even to the long lost President perhaps, that the country might finally be at ease after long months & weeks of pointless bloodshed. That we might see a Third Latvian Republic rise from the ashes of the Second, that new monuments honouring men of both fronts be erected all through out the country since they only fought for what they believed, The Latvian people.

"A Triumph" - T. E Lawrence

Latvijas otra republika wrote:

Continued

He node'd to him at an angel, tightened his tie, and with a heavy fearful gulp, with a sound similar to that of a thud, he spoke at once.
"I..Well...I..-In fact I" he dropped his shoulders slowly pulling the words with heavy anticipated breaths, not knowing the right explanation or meaning, or in that fact the correct combination that could explain himself.
"No man...No man will believe a word I will say to you...how could I tell you" he leaned tired, dazed, turning pale forcing words out of his mouth.
"Well-I..There's a reason why the country don't know where I am, I could, I would give them the truth, in fact I would preach it..If I could in any capacity" He stopped for a spilt second.
"The reason why I am not on the steps of the Saeima holding the declaration of triumph, Is that..my death will be the Saeima's triumph" He continued.
"Regions alliance is, in a matter of fact, is fully under the control of some unknown forces manipulating the parliamentary Republic and exploiting the populace" He slowly utter'd his words as to not sound as a mad man.
"The civil war was a play, why would a satisfied population rebel and shoot each other, that's not what people just decide to do and it wasn't. In fact I am not fully aware of how I got outside of Riga after the first shot by the assassin, thousand's of miles from the city, and I am not willing to give my interpretations of it" His hands grew cold and his spine chilled.

"All I know is" He jolted his hand to look at his black wristwatch.
"Is that in roughly three minutes a single helicopter will come with some of my associates inside, expecting me to come with them for the resistance" he quickly sighed.
"And in four minutes this part of the forest will be completely shelled by my own Cabinet, my friends are expecting me in the helicopter, but I am afraid I must open that old door and fix what I have broken by the means of...well, I can't tell you" He carried on hearing the noise of distant helicopter blades and the sound of expanding small thuds
"I will be in an abounded Riga metro somewhere around 2022, somehow and in some form of myself, and remember.. the Bureau of the red rose"
He Slid the ancient key inside the door, and with a the sound of fifty thousands cracks and mechanisms, it open'd sliding him inside darkness as it shut.

Harkin jogged to the helicopter perplexed

Car honks, bird chatter, girls walking holding costa cups , loud tourists drinking bear, more girls walking past wearing pale green coats, shoppers went past left and right holding loud colourful bags. He looked around dazed and confused, on the old peaceful cobbled pavement that stretched across the entire ground intercepted by tidy houses and shop corners; the architecture in bright colours, buildings in cheerful and beautiful taste built at least a hundred years ago. Even the sky was a pale blue stretching across without a single cloud or plane.

'Could this be' he thought only to himself, but it couldn't, it could never be, how could it, it's impossible, it's a daydream, it's i-m-p-o-s-s-i-b-l-e.

But it was strange, he felt something; he felt free, he could look it his hand and back and didn't feel restricted or that strange feeling of plastic that daunted him for ever since he could imagine. It felt like reality, it felt real, he could feel his cold cheeks, his hair not stiffly gelled and swaying in the direction of the wind, his suit having flaws; even a shoelace was undone and a sole was about to peel off!

His suit was strangely blue, not like he could remember, there was even the tiny rip on his right shoulder and a bread crumb on his trouser leg. But before he could examine more of these oddity's a silver BMW with reflective windows blasted a honk so loud pigeons flew in all directions, of course he was standing in the way; but before he could move away dazed he saw a long glimpse of himself in the various reflections of his car. No dark grey hair, no wrinkles as deep as valley's; it was as if he was younger looking exactly like he had years ago.

As he pushed himself to the sidewalk he grabbed on the arm of an elder lady stiffly while he was pressed up against a wall imbalanced, he gripped tighter as his forehead visibly started to reflect the blue of the sky.

"Woman!, As your president I ask of you where am I and the current date?" He tried to convey a smile but forgot how to, it seemed foreign to express visible emotion.

"Kas pie velna ir tava problēma, nost no manis, tu tu..!" she jolted him off and hurried down the street silently muttering to herself angrily.

"b...ba.." He was confused, he knew what she said perfectly well, except he never heard such a thing before or even spoke in that language.

Distressed he hurried around the square inspecting every window, door and number; his face and eyes fluttered from corner to corner until the world surrounded him in a dome shape seamlessly looping around, he quickly fell sideways on a colossal wall; or was it a wall, he couldn't tell. He quickly regained his senses and stepped away, breathing carefully and regaining his blurred vision.

An eerie feeling went over him, something so dreadful, powerful that he couldn't bring the words to come through his mouth or even breathe the air surrounding him, choking him slowly.
He stood at the gates of the deep brown marble building dazed and confused, his mind swelled with such a pressurising feeling indescribable to man, it felt like a nauseating squeeze coming of the deepest & darkest depths of his fears. His eyes fixated and blurred, no blink could get the indescribable pulling to stop on his eyes.
A relentless strain took over his face and chest like a heavy thud of his regrets and mistakes that taunt him; mocking him at every turn.

"Wh...t.."

"H..t-t"

After a strain of stuttering and gibberish coming out of his mouth, he finnaly the pulled the words shakingly out of his mouth.

"..Where.. am I."

His body cramped slightly down with his pale face unblinking at the pavement where a ballot paper rattled in a waltz slowly breezing angelically towards his direction.

sweese

rattle

The scrunched up paper slowly breezed towards Bondar's with it's front up revealing repetitive lines, names and numbers that seemed incohesive and jumbled up. He focused with all his strength, crouching down more with his pours sweating profusely until he read whatever it said in the small corner of the ballot paper bent in a strange direction.

rattle

blink

blink

His hand shaking he finally read it's microscopic corner reading from left to right.

DATUMS

In bold letters, four numbers appeared.

2-0-1-6...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttzWTRR0BTY