Sergei had arrived early, as was his way, leaning against the brick walled building which housed the dance studio in question. He was waiting on the luxury car which he was told to expect at this address. Serge knew that his target was within, and he felt that on his own he could accomplish the task of subduing and extracting her without incident, but his superiors had insisted that he be accompanied by a supposed “professional” who specialized in abductions.<br/><br/>To Sergei, it felt like they were assigning him a babysitter.<br/><br/>Leaning against the building, Sergei smoked a cigarette leisurely, watching as a throng of children with their parents flooded out of the glass doors at the front of the building. The parents cast sidelong, judgmental glares in his direction, rushing their children across the street to keep them away from the frightening looking stranger who was clearly observing their departure from the building.<br/><br/>Sergei was dressed as he almost always was, in a pair of charcoal slacks with a matching custom tailored blazer. Under his coat, Sergei wore a black, silk, Armani shirt- decorated with golden graphics. He kept the shirt unbuttoned low enough to show off the top corner of his KGB tattoos, with a gold chain around his neck and his pistol in a leather holster under his coat.<br/><br/>The Russian stubbed out his cigarette under his alligator skin shoe when the black, luxury car pulled up to the curb. Sergei felt his jaw drop for just a moment as the abduction specialist stepped out, long legs clad in tight black stockings with an impossibly short skirt barely hiding her underwear.<br/><br/>“You must be Madeleine, yes?” Sergei asked, wrestling with his heavy Russian accent. “I am Sergei, pleasure to meet you.”<br/><br/>Sergei extended a hand to the woman, nodding toward the building.<br/><br/>“We go in through front, or in through back?” Sergei asked of Madeline as they finished making their introductions. “Perhaps you should move car into alley. Makes for easy extraction, yes?”<br/><br/>In his mind, Sergei spoke perfect English, having studied for many years while he was still in school. He had no idea how thick his accent was, much less how many modifiers he left behind as he continued to speak.<br/><br/>“We go inside now. Little children have gone.” Sergei proclaimed, reaching inside his jacket to grasp the handle of his wide-barreled pistol. “We capture Yelena, any who see our faces we kill. Yes?”<br/><br/>It sounded quite simple actually, in Sergei’s over-simplified, broken English- but the capture of Yelena Naumov would prove to be anything but.