Pentagon.
The long-sought target had always been searched for without a mont’s rest, so there was a command center continuously following the matter. However, this battle erupted suddenly with a sudden lead, so not many bigwigs were watching from the Pentagon’s remote command center, only the most knowledgeable personnel awaited news here.
But the signal would inevitably be sent out because capturing this critical target is currently the core issue driving Arica, or rather, it’s the source of a disaster.
When the target suddenly appeared in front of them, the verification process imdiately comnced. All operatives deployed in Kiev instantly entered battle readiness. No country in the world knew why they were in Kiev, not even they themselves knew the reason for being in Kiev, but understanding the urgency and importance of the mission was sufficient.
Soon, once the video evidence was obtained and sent back to the command center in Arica, all of Kiev was in an uproar. They began using all ans to track the three individuals who most resembled the target, and all updates were relayed back to the Pentagon at the first opportunity.
Once the Pentagon personnel felt confident that those located were reliable, they imdiately notified the president. Thus, a web conference was convened within three minutes, where everyone involved with the incident quickly found a room and a screen to convene for the eting.
The president’s face appeared on the screen, occupying just a small corner, but everyone in the command center knew he was watching because the on-site and command center’s video signals had already been transmitted to the White House at the earliest opportunity.
"Mr. President, we’ve acquired road surveillance video footage. Based on visual evidence, we can’t confirm the target’s identity."
"Then what’s the reason linking the discovered target to Grand Ivan?"
"Ordinarily, to disguise one’s true appearance and postural gait — for example, walking style — disguising as an elderly person is a good choice. Mr. President, that old man seems hunched, leaning on a cane, wearing a hat, and appears to be at least over eighty, but the facial and physical features along with walking steps don’t match Grand Ivan. However, take a look when he suddenly hooked that young person with his cane and followed through with a strike — does this seem like the action of an eighty-year-old man?"
"So, is he in disguise?"
"Exactly, our experts concluded that the elderly man is disguised. Mr. President, it is extrely difficult for a person to hide habitual actions, such as walking strides which are hard to alter, but leaning on a cane as an aid makes this simpler. Moreover, those two beside the old man are also in disguise; that young man is wearing a wig, as the hair thickness does not match, and the discrepancy in the skin tone of his hands, neck, and face suggests simple makeup was applied. The other one..."
"Let’s not talk about these minor issues. Is there any conclusive evidence proving that old man is Grand Ivan?"
"Yes, please look. This is the footage captured by surveillance. Our four n confronted the two opposing bodyguards, who fired only four shots and killed our four agents. Our agents couldn’t react before they were already dead. Notice their handguns: these are silenced Makarov models, KGB-specific, modified to a high degree; otherwise, they wouldn’t fire so rapidly. And, of course, the two opposing bodyguards are also superior marksn."
"Why aren’t they KGB but Grand Ivan’s bodyguards? How can this be determined?"
"It’s simple, Mr. President. Russia replaced their firearms fifteen years ago, so it’s impossible for the current Russian KGB to use such pistols in their missions. This has already beco symbolic for them, and current Russian KGB avoids this symbol. Also, I barely had ti to ntion, but I must state, Mr. President, that slightly plump gunman was previously involved — in the incident where individuals with conflicting interests with Grand Ivan were eliminated just recently, a series of battles in Kiev involved him. We deduce this person is one of Grand Ivan’s core bodyguards, and his capabilities are indeed exceptional and outstanding. I don’t think anyone other than Grand Ivan would assign such an elite bodyguard to his subordinates. I’m done, Mr. President."
The president paused briefly, nodded, then swept his hand across the video conference screen suddenly.
"Then move. You possess the authority to take whatever asures deed necessary, at any cost, ensure to capture that man. I will be right here watching, until you capture him, gentlen. I will see your victory firsthand."
"Yes, Mr. President. We’ve been tailing the target; he has nowhere to hide. Capture operations are about to comnce."
President sat back on the sofa; no longer needing to be cramd with others in a single room, he could sit more comfortably, yet he could not sit still, instinctively straightening his body.
Until tragedy struck, as he watched the sudden outbreak of artillery on the screen, the president stood up astonished, staring at the white smoke obscuring the screen, listening to the command center’s chaotic shouts about white phosphorus shells. After a stagger, the president heavily plopped back onto the sofa.
His highly anticipated subordinates, not only failed to seize the final hopeful opportunity but also watched them being massacred, is there anything worse than this?
Of course, there is worse than a massacre: the sa thing happened again, and the second massacre involved even more people.
Falling twice in the sa place, defeated twice by the sa opponent, even after strengthening, adding personnel, doing everything possible to the best — and ultimately achieving another failure, it’s truly dreadful.
The president was in his office, accompanied by only a familiar assistant, making it unnecessary for him to maintain deanor. To be precise, he couldn’t keep his composure.
"You damned bastard!"
He suddenly erupted in a curse, then leaned over to grab a crystal glass, throwing it hard at the screen before him.
With a loud bang, the screen went pitch black. The president saw the collar of his white shirt through the now-cracked screen, reminding him of the white smoke from the white phosphorus shells. He picked up another cup and, with all his might, hurled it fiercely again.
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