"This is a call to all citizens in the Liberated Chicago Area. Do not leave your homes past 9pm tonight. Curfew will be in effect." The female voice commanded over a loudspeaker. Would the public mind? No, they had to obey. "Jojj Isten... Why the hell are they making curfew TONIGHT?!" A Hungarian-accented bartender grimaced, cleaning a glass in one hand and taking the order of a soldier mentally in the other. "It's because we want to! Be happy for Liberation, the Nineth Brigade is strong, and we get extra rations from St. Louis and gas from Fargo." A soldier spat back. "Wasn't Fargo razed in Operation 'Fuck Canada, we can do things on our own'?" Viktor quipped, obviously amused. "Watch your tongue!" The Hungarian could only laugh at the soldier's response. "You know it's funny my friend. We live in the shittiest part of the Confederacy, making pístoi and bullets. Why are we so lucky? Is this truly North Korea?" The soldier smiled, sipping his whiskey. "Lets just say that you're lucky to be alive and in the know, Florian." Florian was a local name he went by, a Hungarian name seeing how Russians were detested. "Get me a new shipment from Denver one of these days, will you?" Referring to marijuana and booze, the soldier nodded. "It'll be marked as always, I'll inspect it, then hand it off to you."