A cold wind blows across the silent tundra near Nihil’osk, accompanied by a lone airsuit of unknown origin that walks into the rising night. A lone structure, a factory with billowing smoke stacks, can be seen obscruring the glare of the setting sun in the distance. The silence is broken by the thundering crash of a factory wall as it is parted by the fist of tall figure hearing a fedora and trenchcoat. Nearby a man in fatigues hovers on a flying disk, a battlesuit wearing scientist, and a faded man dressed in black watch the wall part revealing its inner corridors.
The man with the hat utters something unintelligable as he stares into the dark recesses of the factory his vision focused on a scene that only he can see: A window into a well lit room. Seated near the window at a desk is a man in a dark gray suit, italian in design, asian in fabric, and expensive.
The figure turns to meet the gaze of the man in the hat:
“Welcome to Russia, Gilgamesh. Dasvidanya, heroes…”