Key Ivanov's bathtub crackles and fizzles under the immense weight of generally screwing up the space time. He dons the towel and ties it in the correct method. As soon as he finishes, he dissapears to the unknowns. Along with this bath tub, fresh Tiarnan aqua and personal belongings.
Vladimir Putin looks over the vast wastes of the Marble from the Kosmograd, eyes raised in surprise. "Seems like the problems have solved itself. Casualties?"
Fi: [A few hundred people at the border.]
Putin. "Good, very good. How long until we finish repairing the damage?"
Soviet #106: "A few years, a decade at most."
Putin: "and the other nations are gone?"
Fi #2: [As far as we know, yes.]
Putin: "Good. We can put everything that happened behind us. We can return to good old war and conquest. To make this the Empire I've always dreamed of. Let's get to recreating the planet in the name of... what shall we call it when it's done?"