Late-January, 1936. Somewhere 'round Chicago I think. Someone's basement.

The lights are bright in the dusty basement. You can see the particles choke the air. If the air we breathe is Oxygen and Nitrogen, this air was a third oxygen, a third nitrogen, and a third just dust particles. It was cold as hell, because nothing in America is good or can ever be good, and we simply cannot have nice things.

Larry warms himself with a mug of coffee and a blanket over his shoulders. Across from him sits his party contact, "The Journalist", and two Red Guards with Springfield rifles. Well kept rifles, he could tell. They looked like they had been used, probably for target practice, recently. He knew they weren't being used for any kind of killing, of course;

That would be him, doing that.

"Larry, the party thinks you're perfectly trustworthy, but we want to know what you think; are you confident in your security within the Extraordinary Commission?"

Larry smiles and leans back in his chair. "My best friends don't even think I'm a leftist. My paper trail is clean. I know where I'm safe and where I'm not. If anything, I'd be a credit to the Extraordinary Commission."

The Journalist didn't laugh or visibly smile. "Excellent. Comrade, the party is pleased to induct you into the All-American Extraordinary Commission. Long live Socialism. We are made of Steel."

The All-American Extraordinary Commission would begin it's formation. It's purpose would be for clandestine operations in the name of the Socialist Party of America, be the struggle armed, legal, or otherwise. For now, it gathers and awaits the future. It awaits.

The Red Terror will be glorious when it arrives. The Extraordinary Commission looks forwards to the future. Glory to the ones who look forwards.