A small team of spies planted in some Soviet downtown. We are here to look for a prince, a descendant of Nicholas II; he plays his own game of deep cover and has worked his way up through the Communist party’s ranks. The prince is high enough on the Soviet food chain that we feel safe saying he runs this town. Complications have arisen though. The political machinations that seek to displace him? No, we expected those. We did not expect a woman to become involved though. A woman whom the prince chases, as do I.
The night comes where we seek to spring our trap: feign an abduction, turn him to our side. But She throws a wrench in things. She confesses some pending suicide, dresses in her father’s old Red Army uniform. We chase after her photograph, weaving through hallways and and stairwells in some Workers Party quad. There is broken glass everywhere.