Natasha was escorted out to the streets by a few off-duty South Philly FBN agents, or as comrade Octavius would put it... Fucking Bitch Network. As you see the FBN agents are as dirty as it gets. The overwhelming majority of them were dirty and after they decided to rat out our operation, they'd be cannon fodder for the gulag. The gulag is something that is not for everyone, clearly, as many people oppose the idea. But what many don't grasp is the comradery...

"Good evening comrades and wannabe comrades. I come before you to start our celebration of the dawning of the traditional Ushanka. In the past, this was a more secretive ceremony but more and more wannabe comrades have expressed interest into both the Associate Comrade Program, and the gulag itself. I must say, the feedback has been tremendously in favor of what we are doing in South Philly. And today we celebrate this win."

She reaches into her fur jacket and removes a few freshly pressed buttons that have the name Peter on them. Natasha places the button just on her breast pocket in amongst everyone in the drawing crowd.

"But first, I'd like to take a moment to mourn our not so young Associate Comrade, Peter. Peter was a fine soldier in South Philly. However his luck ran out due to his slow, old age. His next of kin has only praised his father's decision to enter the gulag. Before we start the celebration of dawning our awesome looking hats, I'd like to raise a toast to our fallen Peter... he was a simple man who loved to serve hotdogs to many, and even challenged folks to determine how many they could stuff."

Natasha nods for her bodyguard to start passing out the buttons in remembrance of old Peter. As you look at the button, it had his face on it and in the corner, a small hotdog and sickle. As she finished passing out the buttons, she heard a single gunshot in the nearby alley. This wasn't uncommon in our world... gunshots were a dime and dozen. But what wasn't common happened about 15 minutes after the body was taken over to the local church.

The gathered crowd forming in the streets, took notice of Georgie Mitchell, a straight as can be FBN agent slam open the church's doors and spit on coffin that laid another fallen wannabe comrade, Pops. "Tough luck for the lineage of Peter and Pops lately", she thought to herself...

milk stumbles out into the streets after spending the last two days mourning Peter and Pops and drinking more 2% than any sane person would

Natasha he shouts

what have we done?  we should have made him do a desk pop in the HQ first.

milk loves himself some glizzies and can't bring himself to look a hotdog at the moment.  so he knocks over the hotdog cart on the corner.  

WHY, COMRADE, WHY he cries, it should have been Fatty 

milk composes himself, while fighting back some tears as Natasha hands him his ushanka 

I wear this cap, proudly, in honor of Peter and Pops 

before shuffling away, milk takes a button from Natasha and scribbles "The Cult of Comrades" on it and pins it to his hat. 

Let it be known.

Those who walk the streets of South Philly with an ushanka are survivors of the Gulag.

Those who walk without one are either Nonrades… or cowards.

Some critics say the Gulag is stupid. Some say the odds are impossible.These people are called anti comrades. They stand outside our circle, peering in like frostbitten pigeons wondering why the bread is not for them.

Anitinov Tailorski steps forward, adjusting his slightly crooked ushanka.

Tonight we do not argue with the pigeons. Tonight we celebrate the comrades who entered the madness, dodged bullets, and earned the right to walk our streets with fur lined authority.

Congratulations to Comrade Natasha, Comrade Milk, Comrade Octavius, Comrade Megan, Comrade DarwinRoss, and the loudest survivor of them all, Comrade LiamGallagher. Each of you faced the Gulag and lived to tell the tale in increasingly unhinged detail.

And as for young OdinProtsent, proud grandson of forever comrade Peter, we present him with a Soviet participation trophy. It is made of recycled shell casings, and  reads I Tried. A perfect tribute to the family tradition.

Comrades united. Ushankas earned.

Nikolai, formerly known as Octavius, stood next to, and slightly behind Comrades Natasha and TonyTheTailor as they made their speeches. Recognizing the greatness of the Gulag, and honoring the fallen participants in the same breath. He held a fifth of vodka from the motherland of Russia at his side, or what was left of it. By the glazed look in his eyes, he clearly did not share the bottle. Still, his Ushanka was straight, and protected his ears from the harsh winds of the South Philly outpost. 
 

“This is it Comrade Megan, Comrade Milk. We’ve done it. We must wear this Ushanka with pride comrades.”

His increasingly thick Russian accent was near intelligible, likely due to the vodka. Equally likely was the fact that the accent was a recent development. He looked over to OdinProtsent, who was admiring his participation trophy. Nikolai stifled a chuckle at the sight. Nikolai had known forever comrade Peter well. Step-comrade Pops, less so. Either way, he was proud of OdinProtsent for bearing the ridicule with pride. 
 

Antonov Tailorski finished his speech, and Nikolai stepped forward. He made a long winded speech in Russian so horrible his ancestors would haunt his dreams for years to come. Still, the crowd of Comrade sympathizers roared with cheer so loud the pigeons of Brooklyn could hear it. The line to join the gulag in Brooklyn was likely wrapping around blocks at this point. Nikolai stepped back to his previous spot, and resumed his business of nursing the vodka bottle. 

Natasha entered the streets, after finally dawning her own ushanka... she wanted to ensure the rest of the streets were prepared for the remaining Associate Comrades to dawn their ushankas. Two previous gulag survivors decided their fate at the gulag again, and another brave soul entered... She wanted to ensure the masses of nonrades knew what was going on in South Philly.

"Comrades and nonrades, there are currently three in gulag. Two are previous survivors, and the other... a next of kin of the beloved Pops, who was also a next of kin to the first gulag victim, Peter. This is indeed a first for us comrades. Three total participates enter the gulag, how many will survive? I hope all of them do, especially the young OdinProtsent. We shall see nonrades."

Comrade Nikolai stumbles from the corner bar, holding multiple bottles of vodka, ignoring the barkeep shouting at him to bring them back. He had to duck a little out the door because he was now extra tall, wearing his double ushankas with obvious pride. He walks down the frigid streets of the South Philly Outpost until he reaches the group of Comrades he was looking for. Comrades TonyTheTailor, Natasha, Megan, and Milk were surrounding newly minted Comrade OdinProtsent. Tonight was a night for celebration. 
 

We did it, Comrades. The FBN has once again proven that they are inept at their jobs. Couldn’t hit the broadside of a Peter…too soon?

He starts handing out bottles of vodka to all his Comrades. The largest one going to OdinProtsent. He pops the lid from his own and takes a long swig. 
 

Congratulations, Odin. You’ve now joined the elite of South Philly. You’ve done what your father and grandfather could not. I’m proud of you, Comrade. Though I had money on you dying, so you owe me some money at this point. We’ll talk about that later, this is a time for celebration. 
 

He straightens both of his ushankas on his head and takes another long swig of vodka. 
 

Long live the Comrades! Long live the Gulag! Long live the vodka!

Tussyy bows his head in appreciation to his Gulag surviving predecessors. Once more he feels pride brewing deep in his heart. A new brotherhood for life!

'I thank you all, my fellow Comrades! I may not have the physical prowess of you all, nor the wits and cunning. Nevertheless I stand here before you all, victorious over the Gulag and the bullets that have rendered by coat moot!'

He chuckled to himself, thinking of all the times he dodged bullets over his long life. Yet, somehow, these last 7 were more memorable to him.

'I shall serve the Motherland proudly with my new family which transcends families!'

He turns to face Comrade OdinProsent.

'It has long been tradition in my family to thank those who offered us an opportunity to surpass obstacles and be given a chance to prove we deserve respect. You openly offered me the opportunity to prove my worth, sacrificing your own gain. I shall never forget this.'

Tussyy reaches deep into his hidden pocket and reveals a dull pocket watch.

'This relic has been in my family for generations, and carries blood from all of us in the mechanism. I want you to take this as a sign of my appreciation - part of me to ever serve you'.

Turning back to the assembled crowd he laughs heartily.

'I was here before you were born! Before the Gulag was built! Before ears turned cold! And I promise you this - I shall endure with my new brotherhood!'

Natasha was away on business back in the east... she was working with a local hat maker to ensure her request for new ushankas was fulfilled. She personally traveled to back to Mother Russia due to the amount of Cold Ears entering the gulag these days. Many Cold Ears have witnessed history with this movement, and many wanted to be part of it. 

"Good afternoon Cold Ears. Yes you just heard me call you by our new slur, Cold Ears, deemed for those who do not wear an ushanka. Wearing an ushanka is everything amongst our community these days. Many may think its just a trend but I assure it, it is not. As you can see, many Cold Ears have lately decided to enter the gulag. It is a brotherhood, even more so than your typical family or crew."

She takes a look at the most recent gulag survivors.

"Congrats to you new comrades and welcome to the brotherhood. The brotherhood where your ears are no longer cold, and you fancy vodka, and wrestling bears."