[center][h1]Kirill Gusakov [b][color=limegreen]PRAVDA[/color][/b][/h1][/center] [hr] [hider="That moment"] [b]Riga, Latvia[/b] It was that moment which divides day from night. Kirill and his son were standing at the 11. November embankment, watching the Daugava River as it flowed through the heart of the city, reflecting the orange glow from the setting sun. It was around this time that Kirill was expecting his ex-wife to start calling and asking why hasn't he brought Eduard back already. While Helios was saying his farewell to this side of the planet for the night, Kirill would have to do the same to his son, the main difference being that Kirill wouldn't be back by the morning. Last time he did this, Eduard was just five and didn't understand where his father was going; just that he wouldn't be back for another eight months, like the previous two times. After gaining the courage, he turned to his son. [color=limegreen][b]"In two days I will be abroad for some time. It will be longer than usual, so I won't be able to spend time with you like we usually do."[/b][/color] Eduard immediately looked at his father, realising that something was wrong. [b]"Where are you going?"[/b] He asked nervously. [color=limegreen][b]“Its work related. They need my help over there."[/b][/color] Kirill dodged answering the actual question. After all, he couldn't reveal where he was going or what he was going to do to anyone who didn't have the clearance for this information, especially his family. [b]"When will you come back?"[/b] Eduard realised that he wouldn't be able to get anything other than that out of his father, hell, even that he might not tell. [color=limegreen][b]"In a few months, I think. But I don't know for how long I will be able to remain here before I will have to go back."[/b][/color] Kirill leaned on the rail and looked at the flowing water for a few seconds. He looked back at Eduard, smiling. Although he was 12, Kirill felt that his son was old enough for him to be blunt. And then just like that, Kirill said in plain Latvian: [color=39b54a][b]"If something happens and I don't come back... Take care of your mother, alright?"[/b][/color][/hider] [b]Lielvarde Military Airfield, Keguma County, Latvia[/b] It was so early that the sun hadn't begun rising. The silence of night had attracted thousands of cricket chirps that filled the area around the airfield, but that soon changed with the loud sound of a landing jet. The Lielvarde Military Airfield was just an hour’s drive away from Riga. This is where the Latvian Air Force was stationed. The airfield was rather small compared to other Baltic military airfields and had only had one lane for taking off and landing. The only aircraft present were some Latvian Mi-17s, American Blackhawks and Chinooks, two polish Mig-29s and a couple of Hungarian Gripens, not mentioning the black jet that had just landed and was taxiing into the hangar where Kirill was. Kirill stood there in his black uniform wearing a green beret. On his right shoulder he had slung over a large duffle bag that contained his personal items and in his left hand he held a black hard shell case that contained his weapons. Next to him was his commander. He was one of the few original Omega members left and was a man that Kirill had grown to have a lot of respect for. [b]"I guess this is where we part for now, Gusakov."[/b] The commander said, as they were looking at the jet. Although the commander had signed the papers that allowed Kirill to join Rainbow, as per instruction from above, it was Kirill who knew more about who he was going to work for now, despite their difference in rank and authority. Putting down his items, Kirill turned to his commander and saluted him. [color=limegreen][b]"Gods kalpot Latvijai un Omegai!"[/b][/color] Kirill shouted as the commander saluted him back. After lowering their arms, they shook hands and exchanged smiles. Having picked up his items, Kirill steadily went towards the plane. [b]"Make your country proud!"[/b] Shouted the commander as Kirill walked further away from him. A small smirk appeared on Kirill’s face. [color=limegreen][i][b]"I will sir, I will."[/b][/i][/color] He whispered to himself. [hider="People just like you"] [b]Latvian State Police HQ, Riga. A few weeks earlier.[/b] [b]"Now, if you won't accept this. That's not a problem. I have a [i]looong[/i] list of people who would be willing to do this."[/b] The African-American woman, somewhere in her late-50s, had put a large emphasis on the word long. Kirill stood in a glass office made for conferences, alone. The woman was speaking to him in English trough a large TV. She had requested to have this meeting with Kirill and clearly had much more authority than any person Kirill had ever seen. [color=limegreen][b]“With all due respect, ma'am, I just want to know what I am getting into."[/b][/color] His accent was creeping into his speech. [b]"All you need to know for now is that you can help me stop some of the most dangerous and vile people to our society that are currently out there."[/b] After a brief pause, she continued. [b]"There is a file provided on the table. Read it."[/b] The file had a big red [b]CLASSIFIED[/b] taking up all of the front cover. Picking up the document and running through its initial pages, Kirill turned pale by what he had read. Stopping after a few pages, he looked at the woman who was watching him. [color=limegreen][b]"These men are behind Bellagio?"[/b][/color] The woman nodded. [color=limegreen][b]"If what's in this file is correct, then how are you planning to stop them?" [/b][/color] [b]"Right now, the watchmaker is asking me how a watch works."[/b] The woman took another pause, this one felt a lot more serious. In fluent Russian, she said to Kirill: [b]"Если не для мира, тогда сделай это, чтобы защитить свою страну и своего сына".[/b] Kirill had no idea who the woman was, but she clearly knew a lot about him. She probably even had access to his classified file - GDPR wouldn’t be able to help him here. For some reason, Kirill felt like the whole ordeal was making a deal with the devil. [/hider] Kirill was already sitting in the plane's warm cabin. Its crew was in the process of preparing for taking off. Kirill asked the pilot who was passing him: [color=limegreen][b]"Excuse me, where are we going again?"[/b][/color] [b]"England, sir."[/b] The pilot stopped and looked at Kirill. [color=limegreen][b]"Ah, thank you."[/b][/color] Kirill nodded and the pilot continued going toward the cockpit. [color=limegreen][i]"It won't be a long flight then."[/i][/color] Kirill thought to himself. After the pilot spoke with the tower, they began moving towards the runway. After the plane took off, Kirill took a hard long look through the window at the Latvian soil illuminated by the rising morning sun. He understood that he won't be able to see this view for some time now. [hr] [b]Hereford Base, England[/b] When Kirill got out of the truck, he stood tall. The reception wasn't something to go write home about, even if Kirill didn't take Thatcher’s speech to heart. He has been through less welcoming welcomes. He was more worried that he had seen only seen unfamiliar faces; some of the operators were much older than him, others - younger. But he understood that all of them were the global elite and were just as good as him - if not more. But the whole atmosphere was off, it was clear that many people weren't even interested in greeting each other. Because of that Kirill just took his envelope and went to the Eastern Wing. There was clearly going to be a division between the newcomers and the veterans for some time now. He chuckled to himself when he saw his new nom de guerre: [b]"Pravda"[/b]. He got the reference, but the Latvian newspaper was called "Cīņa", however, he was sure that they wouldn't be able to spell it correctly anyway. When he opened his door, his eyes were wide open. The place was pretty much an apartment. Hell, one could almost forget that he were at one of the most well-defended and secretive facilities in the world. It was very well equipped for what it was. There was a bathroom, a kitchen with a fully stocked fridge that Kirill found himself checking before everything else, desk with a computer and enough free workspace put more stuff there, two steel cupboards, a TV, a single bed. But Kirill was even more surprised to see that there was enough floor space for him to freely move around the room. He took off his boots and placed his stuff next to his bed, sat down on it and thought to himself for a second. Afterwards, he began unpacking his stuff out of the bag and settling into the room. He turned on the TV and put it on BBC worldwide, hoping that the TV licence was paid for. He put his own Toughbook next to the provided computer and a couple of files that were given to him by Six previously on the table - his reading materials for the night. As the heavy rain poured down outside, he took a shower and got into his leisure wear for the rest of the night. [hr] *GASP* Kirill jolted awake in the bed and looked around the room, sweat rolling down his face. After calming down, he looked at his phone. It was two hours before his alarm would go off. Putting the phone down, Kirill looked at the ceiling for a while before getting up. After his regular morning warming-up routine, Kirill had a shower and made himself some breakfast with a cup of coffee. At 6:00AM, Kirill heard knocking and yelling down the corridor: "Up and at 'em. Fifteen minutes to get your arse's to the South Wing before someone drags you there! Wear combat dressings. All equipment is in the armory within the South Wing. Grab your stuff when instructed and prepare. It's training time, lads and lasses." [color=limegreen][i]"Show time..."[/i][/color] Kirill thought to himself. He was already wearing his uniform, so it was a matter of just putting on the rest of the gear and fastening it down tightly. He walked out of his room wearing all of his gear, sans the mask that was rolled down on his neck and the helmet that he held in his left hand. He walked over to the South Wing at a steady pace. When he arrived there, he saw a large one-story building and three men, two of talking. Just by glimpse at the building, Kirill knew: MP5 and flash grenades should be on his load out for today. Not wanting to interrupt them he went to the third guy, a Filipino, who was walking around looking at the large construction, making a plan in his head like Kirill was doing. Standing behind him, Kirill put his right hand up behind Thomas and, after hesitating for a brief moment, tapped him on his left shoulder. [color=limegreen][b]"Good morning! Kirill, Latvia. But you should call me Pravda."[/b][/color] Kirill said that as he lowered his arm for a handshake and waited for the man to introduce himself. [color=limegreen][b]"Thoughts?"[/b][/color] Kirill asked Thomas, pointing towards the kill-house with his head. [@Liotrent]