///...Jackrabbit
///...DAY 1 0531:06
///...Moscow, Russia
His nostrils twitched at the cigarette smoke hanging in the air. His dark tan overcoat ran down his body, and a fur hat
covered his brown hair. He tapped the concealed leather under his left arm, which harbored a sleek black weapon, his only
defense in such a hostile country. He made a careless glance inside the majestic russian building, and he quickly counted
thirteen cameras. There were probably more, he noted, but those were of lesser importance for now. The ones that could see
him right now were the biggest problem. An orange taxi ran up alongside him, and he smiled.
"Good day, sir," he said in perfect Russian, no accent revealing itself. He rubbed his whiskers and decided he needed a
shave today.
"Where to?" responded the "Russian" flashing money, the customer's signal.
"Jackrabbit. Jack Ten K," he said in russian, the man acknowledging the order from his superior.
"Consider it done, sir," he said with a smile. He liked his line of work, especially if it meant ridding his Mother Russia
from communism.
The taxi sped away, leading into a parking garage. The man with the overcoat smiled and paid the taxi driver, then took off
his hat, another signal. The cameras went down. He slid into a small disguised doorway and ran down the metal stairs.
Rifles and other weapons of various calibers lined the walls around the eleven agents and operators in long sleeved oxford
dress shirts.Each was plain white with a simple black tie, and each man had his sleeves rolled up just under his elbow.
"Where do they want me now?" he asked, turning to his native language, English, in company of his allies and friends.
"Command says they want us down at the oil fields, screw with them a little bit. Apparently the ruskies are gearing back
up. Politicans think they might have WMDs," said another man, gesturing to the oil fields of southern russia, where most of
the country got its oil.
"The fuck. You trust politicans? You have a lot to learn, sunny," he said in a harsh tone, his displeasment clear.
"Settle down, Jack, settle down. He's the new guy command told you about last week," said another man, the clear leader,
with salt and pepper hair and a goatee.
Jack changed the subject. "How the heck are we getting from bloody Moscow to Southern Russia in...," he checked his wrist
watch, "three hours, Peps?"
"US Embassy is flying a diplomat down south today for some diplomacy shit. We'll hike into two Hueys for "escort" and fast
rope in twenty miles out, sound good?" Peps said, pointing out their route. The men around him nodded."Alright, let's do
it. Gear up."
Jack removed his oxford dress shirt and replaced it with a T-shirt and a black hoodie. He grabbed a dark tan plate carrier
and put it on his body, along with jeans and kneepads. He grabbed a SCAR-L Assault Rifle and slung it back over his
shoulder, and put several magazines into ammo pouches lining his Plate Carrier. He put a hat on that had a patch, the
insignia of the Russian Liberation Front for Democracy, or "RLFD".The twelve operators climbed the metal stairs, and once
outside, split the group into two teams- Papa, commanded by Peps, and Espilion, commanded by Jack. They got into two US
Government Black SUVs and drove towards the embassy. Jack grabbed his mike as soon as heard the order to sound off.
"This is Master Sergeant Jack "Jackrabbit" Lyons, Espilion Team is OK, command. Out."
