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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Falkus" data-source="post: 3819604" data-attributes="member: 22634">OOC: The Greek agents present can replace your regular ammunition, the armory in Russia should be able to replace specialty ammo and weapons.Handing the situation over to the Greek Hoffmann personnel, the team traveled back to their plane, reboarded it, and took off for Moscow.On route, Stanfield filled you in on Fedorov over your phones."He's not the ideal Hoffmann Institute employee, but we never had much of a presence in Russia due to the Soviet Union blocking us. His personality is a little too much KGB, not enough Hoffmann, but Russia isn't a pretty situation, and we need a man there who both knows the territory and can deliver results. That's Fedorov.""The man's a hardline communist, by the way, so don't bring up politics, especially Russian politics. He's also had a budget cut too, so he's not likely to be in a good mood."The plane landed in Moscow early in the morning. Conditions were almost blizzard like, and the plane nearly had to abort. Thanks to Institute influence, getting your weapons through security was no problem.A couple of taxis met you at the airport, and drove you through the cold, decrepit streets of the capitol of former superpower to the Moscow branch office of the Hoffmann Institute.The building itself appeared to be a small, run down office building downtown. Graffiti and garbage covered it. The front reception area was no better, looking more like a trash dump. A derelict bum, was apparently sleeping in a cardboard box. Though, on second glance, his teeth were in remarkably good condition, and his eyes were carefully following you as walked towards the door into the main building area.Once past that, however, things changed. The corridors of the building were slick, high tech metal, with security devices everywhere and plenty of incredibly busy employees moving around. A receptionist led you to the command post on the third floor, past labs and security centers and offices. The feel was distinctly military, as opposed to the more casual attitude in Chicago. Nearly everybody was wearing some sort of uniform and carrying a sidearm.Fedorov himself stood in the center of a large, busy room, filled with your computer monitors and communications apparatus, and dozens of technicians talking to and guiding agents in the field. He was a large, burly man, with gray hair and a thick mustache. He turned to stare at you as your entered."You must be the Americans, here to ask about Hammerfall." he said, bitterly, in a thick Russian accent. "As if I didn't enough problems already."</blockquote>

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