Another march began. Balloons flew into the air, and flags fluttered above the crowd.
Meanwhile, representatives of the SFS administration, which was being torn to shreds on all-Russian television channels, also pulled up to the podium. Some of them were dressed in civilian clothes, some in faceless military suits without insignia. The real military leaders and simply serious officers were now moving somewhere at the entrance to the city together with their leader, the "Kom.batt".
The impresario, who had appeared again, this time looking more serious and even straightening his hat, which had been hanging somewhere on the back of his head, led Zavirdyaev and the others to the seats on the tribune.
The seats were located in the bottom row on the right. Contrary to what he had said half an hour ago, the impresario decided that it would be better if everyone slowly began to take their seats in advance. Then the Maroon Jacket seemed to remember something he had forgotten and began to loudly call out the name and patronymic of some "maestro", as he called him, not failing to add a saying about his mother.
Finally, "Daddy Kom.batt" thundered over the avenue once again. A wave of excitement ran through the crowd, dispersed along the avenue. A few more minutes later, a BBM-5, an armored personnel carrier adopted for service back in the Soviet years, appeared in the distance.
The vehicle was more than suitable as a "member carrier" for high-ranking officers of the Super-Federate - in addition to its brutality, it was also tall enough to match the van and had a smooth ride.
However, "Kom.batt" was riding in an open car moving in front of the armored vehicle. Vaska, "Kom.batt's" son, a little over twenty years old, was also riding there. His nickname among ordinary locals and his entourage was Vaska Stalin, and it was not at all given to Vaska by fans of the legendary Soviet leader and his son.
Vaska lived up to his nickname. If, of course, you take into account all the dirt that has been poured out on the real Stalin Jr. over the years.
Vaska Stalin of the twenty-second century managed to be a cadet at a prestigious military school in big Russia, not graduate, but nevertheless receive the title of captain of the People's Volunteer Guard of the SFS and be noted as a great supporter of the development of local sports, especially football - he was just like the original with sports.
Perhaps, knowing about his nickname, Vaska imitated this very original in some way. But he was especially successful in the area of unrestrained and often ugly revelry in the company of his buddies.
Zavirdyaev also knew for sure that in early spring, "Papa-Kom.batt" had smashed the insides of a country house at a prestigious recreation center located near the city. The reason for this was a message from some well-wishers that "Kom.batt-Junior", Vaska, and his friends did not limit themselves to alcohol and began to indulge in something even more potent.
Luckily, "Kom.batt", who had maintained his composure, fired strictly aimed at the interiors and did not shoot anyone. Among ordinary locals, talk about this incident had the status of rumors, but Zavirdyaev knew that it was the pure truth - the CSCE had its own information channels. Now Vaska was in a dress uniform with an aiguillette and was holding himself in such a way that you wouldn't have guessed from his appearance about the carousing and all the rest. However, that's what they are military for. After all, he had acquired some training. At least, he had learned to hold himself properly when it was necessary.
There was also "Drozd" - for some unknown reason to Zavirdyaev, this was the nickname of a retired Russian police officer who headed the KGB SFS. He was dressed mostly in black. Glasses with iron frames gleamed from under his hat.
He was a conspiracy theorist and pseudoscience-obsessed adherent of the idea of the special services establishing total control over society and the state. Moreover, before his career in the SFS, this former policeman had no relation whatsoever to any special services. Here, in the Superfederant, it seemed to him that sooner or later he would be able to realize his principles, or rather, his dreams, in practice, but "Kom.batt" most likely needed this "Drozd" only as a truly energetic performer, albeit one who was ready to screw things up along the way.
And also, in the best traditions of the dichotomous SFS, "Drozd", being a convinced anti-communist, bowed down to such figures as Dzerzhinsky and Beria and even contributed to the opening of monuments to both.
The military leaders accompanying "Kom.batt" were not particularly remarkable - ordinary Russian officers, although now outlawed in the Russian Federal Republic itself. Those who had the features of the old army in their appearance were becoming fewer and fewer with each passing year - they could not withstand competition in underhanded intrigues, and not because of some kind of inferiority like the legendary and often far-fetched alcoholism, but because it was easier to hang all the dogs on them.
When everyone took their seats, the music died down, then the street noise began to die down, but nothing happened - some kind of incomprehensible pause hung over them. From somewhere, the irritated voice of the impresario was heard, explaining something to someone. It seemed that there was some kind of technical hitch.
Finally, when the street music had already come to life again and began to gain volume, other sound equipment made itself known - "Kom.batt" grabbed the microphone installed in front of him and tapped his finger several times.