In the Southern Hemisphere, it was afternoon in the Congo, while in Moscow on the Eastern European plain, it was a pitch-black night. As Russia's capital and one of Europe's most populous cities, with around fourteen million residents, Moscow is also a city that never sleeps. It's not just the usual tourist attractions crowded with visitors from around the world; even the red-light district, with its pink hues, was bustling, filled with bars, nightclubs, and strip clubs.
The streets echoed with the deep, rhythmic beats of music. Numerous scantily clad women stood in front of their respective establishments, blowing kisses to passersby or directly approaching them.
The sex industry in Europe has a deep historical foundation, especially in countries like the Netherlands, Germany, and Switzerland, where it's widely accepted and even contributes significantly to the local economy. Although Russia officially prohibits such activities, in reality, red-light districts and brothels are prevalent. The high population turnover in these areas often leads to violence and chaos, but the mafia organizations that control these industries have become the de facto "law enforcement" agencies, maintaining a stable balance, unlikely to be disrupted except by major upheaval.
At this moment, three taxis arrived in Krasno, a district known for its red-light establishments. Eight burly men in casual clothes got out of the cars. The leader, dressed in a Miami-style shirt and shorts, wearing a cowboy hat, and smoking a cigar, exhaled a puff of smoke and looked around, exclaiming, "Guys, we're going to have a blast tonight! Hahaha! Let's go, find some ladies!"
"I can't wait!"
"Look at you, so excited!"
"I heard the women here are pretty wild. Can you handle it?"
"Hahaha!"
The group laughed and joked, walking towards the most vibrant part of the area, like many other groups of "tourists" looking to experience the local "culture."
However, among the eight, two had notably cold expressions. Their true identities were elite members of the ARS First Company and fully operational cyber warriors. The leader, the "vacationing cowboy," was Arthur Morgan, and their mission was to capture Soldier Boy.
To avoid implicating Atlas and to create a distraction to curb Vought's expansion, Arthur and his team used legitimate identities to fly to Moscow on commercial flights and then took taxis to the Krasno district. The two cyber warriors, having undergone numerous adjustments and trials by Alexia's team, had been involved in several operations over the past six months, meeting all operational standards.
Their programmable brains allowed them to execute infiltration, assassination, and reconnaissance missions perfectly. For friend-or-foe identification, they relied on data chips implanted in Atlas employees. Additionally, Alexia's team had implanted various everyday scenarios and responses into the cyber warriors' brains, helping them blend in better during infiltration missions.
A few shortcomings included their inability to express complex emotions, making them appear rigid and cold, but with their muscular build, this only made them seem more intimidating rather than odd.
Their real purpose in the red-light district was to meet with long-embedded local operatives. Soon, they arrived at a nightclub with a classical facade and joined a queue. The greeter was a group of flirtatious women, overseen by security guards in suits, openly displaying holstered guns. Arthur's group, not wanting to draw attention, behaved accordingly.
After waiting a few minutes, it was their turn.
"Gentlemen," a woman in a classical outfit but with a miniskirt and crop top, batted her eyelashes at Arthur, her voice carrying a Russian accent, "Are you here for drinks, dancing, or... special services?"
"Do we even need to ask? Boys, what do you think?!"
"Whoohoo!"
"Got it~ heehee~ please follow me." Laughing at the raucous response, the woman led Arthur and his group into the nightclub.
Unlike the High Heels Club that Leon had visited, this place was elegantly decorated, with dim lighting setting the perfect mood. In the main hall, women dressed in Tsarist-era costumes performed energetically on stage.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The main stage featured flames shooting up in time with the music, encouraging the crowd to cheer, dance, and spend more enthusiastically. The bar was packed, with patrons enjoying drinks while admiring the dancers. Private rooms surrounded the stage, offering various services that could only be truly understood by personal experience. Arthur and his group followed the woman through the dance floor to a staircase leading to the second floor.
Once they all ascended, the burly guards at the top crossed their arms and blocked the staircase. One even placed a "full house" sign in front of them.
—
…
Shortly after, on the nightclub's second floor, in a secret meeting room accessible only through a hidden door, Arthur and his team had shed their carefree facades, now sitting seriously on folding chairs, watching satellite images projected on a screen.
The woman who had led them now wore civilian clothes, standing at the front of the room, providing explanations. This nightclub, though seemingly a mafia front, was actually an operative outpost set up by Samuel Young during the chaos of the Soviet Union's collapse, serving as a secure base for Atlas's covert operations in Eastern Europe.
The nightclub had become self-sufficient to a degree, generating an annual surplus of $100,000 to $150,000 after covering necessary expenses, including bribes to local gangs and officials.
At this moment, the woman concluded her briefing, "Ladies and gentlemen, the weapons and equipment you requested are ready. Do you need me to go over the layout of the Luf Research Center and the patrol routes around the facility?"
The hunters, including the two cyber warriors, remained silent, indicating no issues.
Seeing this, Arthur spoke, "Get your operatives ready to join our assault. We'll move out in two hours. Before dawn, we need to grab that Boy."
"Understood."
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