In a small hotel in Moscow, Kurtis is looking out of a hotel window, staring at the empty street below. He moves his head back into the room, taking a look around. His hotel room isn’t the prettiest room, a small wooden chair, a table, a bed, pretty basic. He looks at the empty table which has a file folder on it. He spends some time looking at the file before finally slowly going over, takes the chair and sits down at the table and stares at it. It’s marked CIA, classified and top-secret.

A couple of minutes later, Kurtis closes the file folder without even taking a single look inside the file. He stands up on both legs, walks firmly towards the window and continues his earlier task, staring out of the window at the empty street below.