Snippet #2371824

Grigori felt a ghost of a smile appear on his usual grim visage as he sat in his transport. The vehicle wasn't much to look at, obviously designed for utility rather than comfort, but the rather ugly exterior was due to it's components. He loved the idea, even though his brother tried to give him some advice that was politely ignored. Grigori has stumbled upon an abandoned Soviet train-station in a particularly desolate stretch of Siberia and after reporting it's location, he began to explore the decrepit interior. The young man smiled at the memories, picturing the face of Stalin, who's name was all but forgotten to his former subjects, the Hammer and Sickle, and of course, the old cache of weapons, one of which was currently in his possession. However, his true prize was the bank of rail-cars, rusted to the rails and still carrying their cargo: Three T-34 tanks. Naturally, the first thing Grigori wanted to do was drive it on his missions, but Niko quickly shot that down due to it being 'farcically unsafe'. Bah. Niko was very surprised to see a scratch-built military transport built from old tank parts and train-car hulls parked on the front lawn of his house, Grigori grinning like a madman with a wrench in his hand and a welding torch in the other. After getting it inspected and enduring the endless inquiry on how the hell he managed to make that thing, he had the car he was sitting in today.

However, such antics would not be allowed on such a mission. Grigori's reputation as an unhinged exterminator of Purists wasn't exactly what the Garner Royal execs had hoped would be represented in the meeting with Tobimaru Shinra, but in the interest of security Grigori was a safe bet to fight off an attack on a potential ally. Niko had warned his younger brother that it was absolutely unacceptable for Grigori to cause any harm to Shinra, his employees, equipment or buildings, under penalty of... Well, Niko hadn't gone into specifics, but Grigori had no need to find out what that penalty was. His augmentation was set to a slow drip, a nice little setting that let the Russian stave off withdrawal and the destruction that tended to follow. Still, the kid had to fight the temptation to let the fail-safes go and feel the sting of the needle, pressing into his spine and... No, that wouldn't happen. Grigori would rip out his entire skeleton before shaming the company or his older brother.

A large pothole sent him back into reality, the driver of the transport quietly chattering to him as he sat in the passenger seat. Grigori found himself nodding along with his words. "Yes. This is the place. " The Russian felt the transport grind to a halt, quickly taking stock of his bag that he kept beside him. His weaponry was kept at the ready but out of sight, along with his passport, money, and few other personal items. Nodding to himself, he zipped up the military rucksack, slung it over his shoulder, and quickly exited the vehicle. As he entered the building, he began to ask the clerk for directions. He managed to understand the basic instructions, nodding politely to the attendant and calling an elevator. After a pleasantly short wait, he began his ascent, quietly humming "Song of the Volga Boatmen" until the door slid open. The waiting room was already occupied, much to his surprise, prompting him to sit next to a rather large man whom he expected to be in a conference with sometime in the near future. "Dobryj dyen'.", Grigori said, a nice little greeting, despite the incredibly grim voice that came with it.