Alexei Grigorievich Volkov became Soviet Guardian (III) on the same day the previous Guardian walked away.

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In 1989, Mikhail Sergeyevich Morozov renounced the title of Soviet Guardian and vanished from service. To the collapsing Soviet state, this was humiliating. To Generalissimus and the rising Red Guard, it was unacceptable. The Soviet Guardian title had been carried from the Second World War through the Cold War. It could not be allowed to die in silence with an old man’s refusal.

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Generalissimus needed a new Guardian — one who would not abandon the dream, one who would not question the cause, and one who could stand before the Red Guard as living proof that the Soviet Union was not finished.

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He found that man in Alexei Volkov.

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Volkov was born in 1962 in the Soviet Far East to a military family steeped in loyalty, sacrifice, and ideology. His father had served in armored formations, and his mother taught Soviet history. From childhood, Alexei was raised on stories of Stalingrad, Kursk, Berlin, and the sacrifices of the Great Patriotic War. He grew up believing the Soviet Union was not merely a state, but a sacred historical achievement paid for in blood.

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Where other men saw a government, Volkov saw destiny.

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He entered military service young and became a hardened professional soldier. Over time, he rose to the role and authority of a respected Starshina, known for discipline, endurance, and the ability to keep troops moving under harsh conditions. He was not merely a loud loyalist. He understood soldiers, logistics, morale, unit discipline, and the emotional power of history. Men listened when he spoke because he believed every word he said.

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Volkov was also a mutant.

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His physiology gave him enhanced strength, excellent endurance, and unusually dense, thickened skin that provided natural protection against injury. He was not as durable as Soviet Guardian (II), nor as tactically brilliant as Soviet Guardian (I), but he brought a different strength to the title: conviction. He was a soldier-scholar, a walking rallying cry, and a man who could make exhausted troops believe they were participating in history.

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When Generalissimus offered him the mantle of Soviet Guardian, Volkov accepted without hesitation.

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Unlike Mikhail Morozov, who had come to embody cold state enforcement, Volkov was designed to inspire. His armor reflected the new era. It was a full-body red-and-gold combat suit, smooth and sophisticated for the 1990 period, with a sealed helmet, integrated communications, reinforced plating, and a more modern battlefield profile. It was less bulky than the Cold War armor of Soviet Guardian (II), but far more advanced than the wartime gear of Soviet Guardian (I).

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To the Red Guard, Soviet Guardian (III) was not a relic. He was the future.

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Volkov swore allegiance to Generalissimus and to the Red Guard’s vision of a restored Soviet Union. He declared that the Soviet collapse was not the end of history, but a temporary betrayal. Under Generalissimus, he believed the Red Guard would preserve the true Soviet inheritance until the people were ready to reclaim it.

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This belief made him useful.

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It also made him vulnerable.

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Generalissimus understood Volkov’s heart better than Volkov understood himself. He did not need to control him with fear. He controlled him through purpose. Volkov wanted to serve something noble. Generalissimus gave him a cause dressed in sacrifice, memory, and destiny. Every defeat became proof of foreign conspiracy. Every harsh order became necessary discipline. Every questionable operation became a painful step toward historical restoration.

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Volkov accepted the burden because he believed that was what loyal men did.

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During the Red Guard era, Soviet Guardian (III) became one of the movement’s most visible and important figures. He led troops in raids, defended Red Guard strongholds, stood beside Generalissimus during declarations, and acted as the armored face of the movement. He was often the first to address troops before an operation and the last to leave a position once battle turned against them.

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He could quote Russian military history with ease. He could describe the defense of Sevastopol, the winter counteroffensives, the sacrifice at Stalingrad, and the march to Berlin as if he had lived through them himself. To younger Red Guard soldiers raised in isolation and ideology, Volkov made the past feel immediate. He turned military briefing rooms into chapels of historical memory.

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In combat, he was fearless. He fought directly, aggressively, and with enough enhanced strength and resilience to survive conditions that would break ordinary soldiers. His thickened skin and armor allowed him to endure punishment, hold choke points, and push through enemy resistance. He was a capable fighter and an effective troop leader.

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But he was not unbeatable.

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CIA Special Agent Brown, later known as Major Invader, identified Volkov as a key morale asset of the Red Guard. Brown understood something many others missed: Soviet Guardian (III) was more valuable as a symbol than as a combatant. Remove him from the board, humiliate him, or repeatedly outmaneuver him, and Red Guard morale suffered.

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Brown made Volkov a personal target.

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Their conflict became a long intelligence war hidden inside the larger Red Guard struggle. Brown did not rely on brute force. He used misdirection, bad intelligence, false communications, compromised supply routes, timed evacuations, civilian shields, decoy objectives, psychological pressure, and traps designed to exploit Volkov’s predictability.

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Volkov was brave. Brown was patient.

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Again and again, Volkov charged toward what he believed was the decisive point, only to discover that Brown had already reshaped the battlefield. Red Guard units arrived too late, struck empty targets, lost supplies, exposed hidden routes, or found themselves forced into retreat under humiliating circumstances. Brown took special satisfaction in making Volkov look ineffective without always defeating him directly.

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To outsiders, Soviet Guardian (III) began to seem cursed.

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To Volkov, every failure cut deep.

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He did not fear injury, but he feared failing the cause. Generalissimus understood this and used it. Each embarrassment became another chain. Volkov was told that stronger loyalty, greater sacrifice, and harsher resolve would redeem him. Instead of questioning the strategy, he blamed himself. Instead of recognizing manipulation, he became more devoted.

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That made his final act all the more tragic.

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In 2010, the Red Guard launched the Lithuanian Incursion, a bold and disastrous attempt to project power into Eastern Europe and demonstrate that Generalissimus’ movement could still challenge the post-Soviet order. Volkov was placed at the front, where he had always been most useful — armored, visible, and carrying the Red Guard’s banner into battle.

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The operation unraveled quickly.

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Intelligence leaks, local resistance, NATO-aligned countermeasures, and Brown’s behind-the-scenes planning fractured the invasion before it could reach its full objective. Communications broke down. Red Guard units became separated. Evacuation routes were compromised. What had been planned as a decisive operation became a trap.

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At first, Volkov tried to salvage the mission. He pushed forward, rallied units, and attempted to turn collapse into momentum. But as the situation worsened, he finally saw the truth: the incursion could not be won.

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For the first time in his career, Alexei Volkov chose his soldiers over Generalissimus’ objective.

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He ordered a fighting withdrawal.

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As Red Guard forces tried to escape through a damaged industrial corridor and service tunnel network, Volkov took position at a collapsing gate and causeway. Enemy fire struck the position from multiple angles. Concrete fractured. Steel twisted. The route was minutes from becoming a tomb for the withdrawing troops.

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Soviet Guardian (III) held the gate.

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Armor cracked across his chest and shoulder. His helmet was damaged. His mutant body absorbed trauma that would have killed an ordinary man several times over. He fought, braced, and physically held open a collapsing armored barrier long enough for Starshina, troopers, wounded personnel, and support staff to escape.

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Witnesses later described him standing half-buried in smoke and falling debris, one arm wedged against the buckling frame, the other pushing troops through.

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He did not ask for extraction.

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He did not ask whether Generalissimus had approved the withdrawal.

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He simply ordered his people to keep moving.

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His final transmission, broken by static, became part of Red Guard legend:

“The banner does not fall while soldiers still march.”

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Moments later, the structure collapsed.

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To the Red Guard, Alexei Volkov died a hero. Generalissimus immediately transformed him into a martyr of the Lithuanian Incursion, proof that the Red Guard had been betrayed by foreign powers, weak allies, and historical cowards. His image was used in speeches, training rooms, and recruitment doctrine for years afterward.

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But the truth was more painful.

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Volkov was brave. He was loyal. He was intelligent. He loved his soldiers and believed he was serving history. Yet he had been manipulated by Generalissimus from the beginning. His courage was real, but the cause that consumed him was twisted by the man he trusted most.

In death, Soviet Guardian (III) became the hero he had always tried to be.

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In life, he never understood that Generalissimus had turned his noblest qualities into chains.

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Personality

Alexei Volkov was passionate, disciplined, proud, and deeply ideological. He believed history mattered, sacrifice mattered, and soldiers needed more than orders — they needed meaning.

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He was not cold like Soviet Guardian (II), nor morally independent like Soviet Guardian (I). Volkov was sincere. That sincerity made him inspiring and dangerous. When he spoke to troops, he did not sound like a propagandist reciting approved lines. He sounded like a believer.

 

He had a powerful command presence and a natural ability to rally exhausted soldiers. His speeches were full of historical references, battlefield memory, and moral certainty. Younger Red Guard troops often saw him as a living embodiment of everything they had been taught to revere.

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Privately, Volkov carried shame heavily. Defeat wounded him more deeply than injury. Brown’s repeated victories against him were not merely tactical losses; they felt like personal failures before history, Generalissimus, and the soldiers who looked to him.

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His greatest flaw was misplaced devotion. He trusted Generalissimus completely and interpreted manipulation as guidance. He mistook obedience for honor until the Lithuanian Incursion forced him to make the one choice that truly revealed his character.

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At his core, Alexei Volkov was not evil. He was a brave soldier given a false banner and told it was sacred.