Chapter 1020: Schiller in 1991 (Part 2) (Patreon)

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Schiller furrowed his brow as he looked at Andro lying on the ground, then surveyed the room filled with agents. He cleared his throat and said, "I'm not sure what your purpose is in staging this drama, but it's entirely unnecessary. Even if you take me back to Moscow, you won't get what you're after."

"You've lost your memory, haven't you?" The man stepped forward, placing a handgun beside Schiller. He continued, "You don't remember anything now, especially not the details of your work in the KGB or your tenure as the head of the KGB's 11th department."

Schiller frowned, turning his head to look at him. The man nodded respectfully and said, "Deputy Director Petrov of the KGB's 11th department, at your service."

Just as Schiller was about to speak, Petrov reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a badge, and handed it to Schiller, saying, "I believe this badge should be familiar to you."

Schiller looked at the badge held between Petrov's fingers. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he took the badge from Petrov's hand. He was indeed familiar with it, as he had found the red flag badge in the folder from the Philby list.

Schiller was very familiar with this badge because he had used it several times before to achieve his goals. Eventually, through KGB Agent Kayla stationed in Metropolis CIA headquarters and her contact, he had sent the badge back to Moscow.

Schiller's intention was simple; he had used the badge as a temporary measure, but it didn't belong to him. Even though Philby had passed away, the badge should still return to where it belonged.

However, the next moment, Petrov spoke up, "You instructed that once you obtained this red flag badge, we were to come to you and bring it back to you. This will provide you with all the answers."

Schiller's pupils dilated as he turned his head to Petrov, asking, "The red flag badge I obtained??!!"

"You probably don't remember anything, but in your instructions before you left, you mentioned that you might forget everything by the time we came back to you. However, only you can decipher the information carried on this badge. Then, you will know everything," Petrov explained.

Schiller narrowed his eyes, casting his gaze back to the badge. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he stood there in shock for a moment before turning to Petrov and saying, "Since you claim to be under my command, then I need a telephone. Get one for me immediately."

Without a word, Petrov signaled to the agent at the door. In less than two minutes, a telephone was brought to Schiller. He picked it up, dialed a familiar number, and said:

"Hello? Alfred? I know you were responsible for transporting the Philby list, and I was the contact sent by Moscow to receive it. Now, I have a question for you: whose is the red flag badge that came with the Philby list?"

Upon hearing Schiller's words, Alfred on the other end of the line immediately understood. Schiller must be in a special state now, seeking to verify something. He replied promptly, "Professor Schiller, hasn't your paper been published yet?"

"Yes, Alfred, but it's almost there. Perhaps next week, you'll see my work in the journal. I'll be looking forward to your feedback then."

Realizing the call wasn't ended, Alfred pondered Schiller's question and then frowned, saying, "Red flag badge? What red flag badge? I was only responsible for transporting the Philby list..."

"Didn't Philby include his red flag badge in the list?" Schiller interjected.

Alfred took a deep breath, then tried to recall the situation. He said with surprise, "Comrade Philby only obtained the red flag badge after returning to the Soviet Union and providing such a list to Moscow. Before his return, how could he have had a red flag badge?"

"Furthermore, even if he had someone else's red flag badge, there would be no opportunity to include it in the list. The situation was very urgent at that time. If he wanted to add something, he would have had to deceive more people's eyes."

"Moreover, such an important list, he wouldn't have included anything that could indicate its importance. That's basic for a spy. So, the list was just a list, a few sheets of paper, without any badge."

Schiller hung up the phone, sighing softly. It was indeed his fault. The badge had been found in the Philby list folder, leading him to assume it was Philby's. But there were indeed issues with the timeline and causality. It was precisely because Philby had successfully escaped back to the Soviet Union and then revealed the list from his memory that he could obtain the red flag badge. So, before returning to the Soviet Union, he couldn't have received a badge from the Soviet Union.

At the same time, Schiller had not been involved in real espionage work, so he didn't realize that when transporting such an important list, Philby would never have included anything related to the Soviet Union.

At that time, Philby didn't know if he could escape, so he wrote the list. Although he eventually escaped and successfully took the list with him, it rendered the handwritten Philby list less valuable.

But at that time, in the situation where he didn't know whether he could escape, the importance of this list was self-evident. As a legendary agent who could manipulate all UK intelligence organizations, Philby couldn't have made such a basic mistake.

In other words, this badge indeed didn't belong to Philby. So, was this badge originally Schiller's?

Schiller rubbed the surface of the badge. It was indeed an early red flag badge. That meant the original Schiller had achieved feats at least comparable to Philby's to obtain this badge. So, what had he done?

At this moment, Petrov once again saluted and said, "Director, I believe you need to have a good talk with this badge. We'll wait for you downstairs."

With that, all the agents swiftly withdrew, leaving Schiller standing there alone. After a moment, Schiller finally realized what it meant to have a "good talk" with this badge.

Suddenly, Schiller looked up, his eyes widening. He remembered that the red flag badge in his hand resembled the iron key Superego had used to open the door full of chains.

Schiller descended in the elevator, found Superego, and said, "Give me some of the power of the system you've obtained. I need to verify something."

Superego seemed to understand what Schiller wanted to do and immediately gave him some of the system's power.

Once back in reality, Schiller's fingertips emitted a faint glow. As he touched the red flag badge again, he found that it was emitting a faint light. The next moment, Schiller entered a dream.

Faint dust brushed past old camera lenses. Photo after photo was developed and laid out on the table, each depicting a busy figure.

In an office with a red flag on the wall, in a production workshop filled with slogans, in a grand hall, there was always a man with a serious expression.

He wore different clothes—sometimes political work shirts, sometimes the long coat agents often wore, sometimes a gallant military uniform. But these figures all had the same face, Schiller's face.

However, due to differences in facial expressions and muscles, he didn't look exactly like the present Schiller. More importantly, these scenes were shrouded in a layer of gray from the passage of time, making everything appear blurry.

At this moment, a voice sounded in Schiller's ear:

"You must be curious about who I am, what I've done, why you're here. But please, don't be impatient. I will tell you everything, comrade."

"I am Schiller, or rather, I was called Schiller. But I wasn't originally Schiller. Before my rebirth, I wasn't Schiller."

"I am a Soviet, Russian, an ordinary Bolshevik soldier."

"Yes, I am a reincarnator. After I died and was resurrected again, I realized I had returned to childhood."

"Time has reversed, everything has yet to happen. This is an incredibly precious opportunity for anyone, including me."

Schiller heard that in this voice, there was always a kind of seriousness and sternness unique to a soldier, completely different from his own voice.

"So, I decided to do something to change the foreseeable future. I believe you have received my gift, which is what I left for you and for this world..."

"You must be curious now how all this happened. Well, let's start from the winter of 1991."

Accompanied by the echoing low voice, the old projector began playing again.

Feather-like snowflakes gently fell from the sky, landing on the birch tree branches without startling the sparrows. Peering through yellowed window frames, a red flag hung on the white wall.

Below the red flag was a radio with an antenna erected. At this moment, with the crackling sound in the background, a voice came from the radio:

"The Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union confirms that with the establishment of the Commonwealth of Independent States, the Soviet Union, as a state and subject of international law, will soon cease to exist..."

With a click, a hand pressed the button on the radio.

Looking up from the cuff, the neat military uniform was adorned with many shiny badges. As the finger pressed the radio button again, the channel changed, and the radio played a melodious tune, "Farewell to Slavianka."

The finger, calloused from handling guns, ran over the barrel. The crisp sound of a Makarov handgun being loaded faded away into the drumbeat of the music.

As the muzzle pressed against the jaw, the sparrows remained quiet on the tree branches.

"Bang!"

In the quiet room, the sound of a gunshot echoed. Outside the window, as the tiny birds took flight, the snow on the branches rustled down.

In the winter of 1991, the red flag over the Kremlin bid farewell to the world with a kiss of snow.

As the sparrows landed on the pristine ground, a child full of ideals, a steadfast warrior, fell in the swirling snow of Minsk.

The land, stained with blood, was as red as the red flag that flew over St. Petersburg in 1917.

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1021: The Vastness of a Moment (Part 1)