One of the major reasons America sold out the Baltic states in the Munich Agreement was that Andrei allowed the privatization of Soviet industries.
Along with that came a pile of loose regulations allowing foreign capital to enter the Soviet Union . After a tense, ugly fight with the Party elite, Andrei pushed the decision through anyway. With the exception of education and healthcare, he more or less opened everything.
The moment the first McDonald's opened its doors, Western capitalists smelled blood.
They flooded in like rats buying up anything and everything under the sun. They were already picturing endless profits squeezed out of ignorant masses.
Andrei knew exactly what would happen.
Andrei knew many Soviet citizens held starry-eyed fantasies that once capitalism arrived, everything would magically fix itself. He didn't intervene. He let them feel the full force of that "freedom", 14-hour workdays, zero job security and smiling managers .
Soviet branding was quickly commercialized. The KGB became KGB: Sexy Intelligence, Cheka gear turned into cool-kid fashion, "Politburo" was rebranded as Party Bureau, matryoshka dolls were now Happy Dolls, and wife-beating was quietly marketed as a "traditional cultural sport." Hell, even Lenin got stolen as the new face of a premium vodka brand.
But to avoid being completely at their mercy, Andrei raised up a few local snakes of his own. He also invited investment from the "Asian Tigers" Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, Taiwan along with a few neutral players.
Curiously, the only company left out of the orgy was Pizza Hut. Thoroughly puzzled, their executives sent lobbyists, hired spies, even leaned on CIA contacts to find out why. Even staunch American symbols like Coca-Cola had been welcomed so why not them?
Eventually, they discovered the truth.
The ban came directly from Andrei himself.
Soon, a Soviet intellectual (with too much time on his hands) published a 20-page article speculating that Andrei had been dumped in college by an Italian girlfriend, who now happened to be a Pizza Hut branch manager. It was a bizarre theory making international coverage of conspiracy theorist..
Andrei was baffled to learn he'd even attended college in the first place.
Reading the article, Pizza Hut's executives decided to go all in. They fired the "offending" branch manager, publicly denounced Italians as "subhuman" in a staged press leak and sent their CEO to Moscow wearing a ushanka adorned with a hammer and sickle.
Upon arrival, the CEO praised Andrei like a god, threw money around like water and even commissioned a life-sized bronze statue of Andrei in his hometown. Soon, he was granted a private audience.
The CEO had prepared an entire roster of girls to "entertain" Andrei, (since apparently Anderi is a descendent of Rasputin) but he was caught completely off guard by the actual request.
"Really?" the CEO asked carefully. "It's just about one person? That's all?"
"Of course. It's nothing personal."
Andrei was almost embarrassed that a private grudge had caused such an international fuss. Even the Italian Prime Minister had called, a decent man, genuinely confused.
"Don't worry, Your Excellency," the CEO said solemnly. "We'll do whatever you want."
Jokingly, Andrei told him to send his wife and daughter.
The CEO agreed without hesitation.
These capitalists really have no bottom line.
The next day, Pizza Hut opened its flagship Moscow location with a special Anti-Gorbachev Pizza his face printed on the pepperoni and a blanket ban on Gorbachev as persona non grata. Their launch ad featured Andrei heroically "decapitating" Gorbachev to save the USSR.
Since Gorbachev was already unpopular, the stunt gave Pizza Hut a surprisingly successful Soviet debut.
There was, however, one more casualty.
The idealistic domestic liberals.
They had supported privatization enthusiastically, only to discover that Western capitalists immediately began sucking up to Communist Party officials instead. Since the Party elite still controlled real power, corporations bent over backward to please them.
The liberals were discarded instantly.
Left standing in the cold wind, wondering how they'd managed to sell everything and still lose.
__________________________________________________
"Natasha," Andrei asked lazily, "what do you think America's real superpower is?"
"Their military?" she replied after a moment's thought.
She was sitting in a rather ambiguous position beside him, this was supposed to be a work trip, after all.
They were at a Black Sea dacha, the private villa reserved for the Politburo. The sun was warm, the waves gentle. Natasha wore a thin bikini, and Andrei was casually rubbing oil into her skin like it was the most natural thing in the world.
At this point, she had more or less accepted her position.
After all, the life of the one percent was addictive.
She used to hate the Soviet system, would have done anything to escape it. Now, she wasn't so sure. Not with a younger, powerful man constantly coaxing her. She knew exactly how she was being corrupted slowly.
Now she had everything: clothes, food, cosmetics, anything she could name. It felt like one of those fairy tales she'd once stolen and read during a mission in France. Former colleagues now addressed her as "Your Excellency," never daring to meet her eyes.
The old guard still looked at her with thinly veiled contempt, but even they treated her with caution and respect.
And, if she was being honest with herself, she secretly enjoyed the jealous glances from the other women.
Still, somewhere deep down, she felt conflicted.
Trying to be serious for once, she answered again.
"Our military makes up for technology with experience," she said slowly. "But when I was there… they seemed to have something else. Something like—"
"Willing slaves," Andrei cut in flatly. "Disguised as freedom. Wrapped up as the so-called American Dream."
Why invent a mind-control device when they've got a perfectly good one running already? Their propaganda convinces the world to send their best and brightest to work like slaves. And the worst part? Those slaves are happy about it. Proud to be slaves."
He sighed, his hands pausing on her shoulders. "Damn this immigrant country. Stealing the people we invested so much in. Is there really no counter to this brain drain?"
"We could have the diaspora lobby for us," Natasha suggested. "Despite everything, Minorities in the U.S. never really feel secure, no matter how hard they try."
It wasn't a new idea. The Soviet Union had backed countless socialist groups and radical movements in the West.
None of them ever went anywhere.
Because even slaves dreamed of becoming masters one day.
After all, humans were inherently selfish.
"No, That won't work." Andrei said, shaking his head. " Let's support the racist instead. "
Natasha went still.
"Since the masses don't want our help, it's only logical to support the needy. They don't care about us, in a weird way."
Capitalism itself might be race blind but racisom might be the only force other than socialism to stop them.
Since the racist wants a cast based society for themselves without careing about soviet, it weirdly fit into Andrei's current setup perfectly.
Andrei explained it to Natasha while making his trademark villain laugh.
"No! You can't do that!"
The usually complacent Natasha flared up suddenly.
Andrei, being from the 21st century, had no real bottom line but he'd forgotten just how innocent people could be a few decades back.
She demanded again and again that he disavow the idea.
Even someone as worldly as her found it immoral.
Annoyed, Andrei shrugged.
"If you don't stop, then I'll… I'll…" Her threat dissolved. Then she started crying, disarming him completely with that universal weapon.
Aren't you an assassin? Why use this trick?
Andrei surrendered immediately.
Just like that, a crucial piece of his plan to deal with America vanished.
Unknowingly, though, he benefited personally.
Natasha was convinced she had just saved the world from an imminent disaster ,found her purpose renewed. She'd always thought of herself as a good person, had naturally hated the Soviet Union. But now, directly influencing the leader himself? She felt a personal responsibility to steer him toward good.
With that, she found herself a perfectly noble excuse to continue living as the one percent.
And this time, without any guilt at all.