The Oss estate is located in the Jeanvaroki district on the outskirts of Moscow.

It was originally a residence for high-ranking officials, but after the collapse of the Red Empire, it quickly became a residence for the oligarchs and tycoons.

High-ranking officials and oligarchs are just two sides of the same coin.

Due to the overall chaos of social order and the almost collapse of law and order, the oligarchs have deployed powerful private soldiers in their villas and estates to protect themselves.

Every manor villa is almost a small battle fortress, not to mention ordinary firearms, even helicopter gunships, armored aircraft, and tanks can be seen!

This is an era of real unbridled of capital, and money can really buy everything!

And a large part of the so-called private soldiers hired are actually elite soldiers of the former Soviet army, who used to fight for the country, but now they are fighting for money.

In the gates of every manor house, heavily armed guards with loaded guns and hounds can be seen patrolling back and forth.

Even in the summer, as soon as it is night, Moscow is gloomy.

The guards standing inside the iron gate were all extremely tired from the double attack of sleepiness and cold, holding cigarettes, stomping their feet, walking back and forth, talking in low voices from time to time, and their mood was relaxed and leisurely.

This is the Rangvarokee district, and everyone in Russia knows that the guards here are not decently strong, and no thief who does not open his eyes will come here to die.

Suddenly, there was a buzzing tremor on the ground.

It was as if there was a slight earthquake.

The wolfhound's ears stood up, staring warily at the iron door, and then began to bark one after another.

The wolfdog is a military dog in service, and after special training, it is usually silent as if it is mute, and it will not bark even in the event of chaos.

The vibrations grew louder and louder, followed by the dull sound of the engine.

The guards guarding the door were all experienced veterans, and when they heard this voice, their faces couldn't help but change greatly, and they immediately leaned on the observation window of the iron door and looked out.

The darkness in the street outside the door was pierced by a bright pillar of light.

The sound is fast from far to near.

One after another, green personnel carriers drove by at high speed with a blinding light.

But it wasn't the military vehicles that made the dull sound.

The guards became more and more nervous, subconsciously took off their guns, held them in their hands, and looked at each other from time to time, both seeing the fear in each other's eyes.

The dull roar suddenly reached its maximum.

Here it comes!

The thick barrel peeked out of the darkness, and in an instant, it was a suffocating body!

One by one, the tanks, without turning on the lights, followed closely behind the personnel carriers in the darkness and drove forward!

The wind swept down from the sky.

The helicopter gunship swept low above the tank!

A synthetic combat force armed to the teeth!

It has been a long time since there has been a formed army on the streets of Moscow after August 19, let alone tanks on the streets!

Something big is going to happen!

The guards were almost suffocated with fear.

After a few howls, the wolfhound fell into a deathly silence.

In the darkness of heaven and earth, only the roar of advance sounded.

The palace-like villas in the manor, far from the streets, are lit up one after another.

The dignitaries and dignitaries in Moscow also received the news in the shortest possible time.

Chubais had just died less than three hours ago, Yerich had not yet shown up to give any instructions to his henchman about the death of his henchman, the Kremlin was still in chaos, and the whole of Moscow was watching in uneasiness, but suddenly the news of tanks on the streets came!

Who is it?

What do you want to do?

Is there another coup d'état?

Almost everyone guesses so.

All sorts of confidential calls suddenly became hotlines.

People who don't know why are looking around like headless flies for news.

One of the phone calls leads to the location, but it's different.

It's not a government department, it's not a luxury villa, it's not a corporate headquarters, it's an old residential building.

"The Oak Monks have officially sent us an inquiry asking us to explain Anna. Jones was attacked and returned her lost soul shards. The U.S. side has also asked us to explain the incident, and if we can't explain it clearly, we will refuse to allow the plane to enter the country. A lot of people in the government suddenly became active, apparently receiving instructions from some quarters. The situation is not in our favor at the moment, and it is safe to assume that immediately after Chubais's death, the Oak Friars will come into contact with someone in the upper echelons. At present, the whereabouts of the troops entering the Rangvarokee district are still not very clear, and the speed of their march is not very fast, but the henchmen of Azigin and Chubais can no longer sit down, and they are ready to leave Moscow for refuge. ”

"Pressures on other fronts can be temporarily regressed, and peripheral organizations can give up all if necessary." The voice on the phone was muffled and low, with a squeak like electricity, "The changes on the Moscow side can be ignored for now, as long as Yerich's life is saved, all the lost can be easily recovered." I will communicate with them on the American side! ”

The phone hangs up.

Somewhere underground in Moscow, in a room full of instruments and cables, the staff who had listened to all the conversations by ear immediately put down their ears, scribbled a line on a slip of paper on the table, rolled it into a roll of paper, stuffed it into a thumb-sized metal cylinder, and threw it through a hole in the table.

The metal canister slid down the pipe for a few minutes before entering another room.

The staff member who received the metal cylinder looked at the impression above and immediately ran out of the room with a quick hand.

The corridor was full of hurried staff, all of whom looked solemn and nervous but excited.

The metal canister was eventually sent to a room with only a name tag and no position.

The middle-aged man sitting in the room was a little bowed, with a pair of gold-wire glasses on his thin face, looking polite, like a standard office white-collar worker.

He stared silently at the metal cylinder sent to him on the table, and for a while as if he had made up his mind, he took out the note inside, picked up an old-fashioned red telephone on the table, and did not speak, but just pressed it a few times, paused for a moment, and immediately began to speak.

He spoke not Russian, but a remote Russian dialect with a thick accent and a brief pause for every few words.

On the other end of the phone, there was a room full of soldiers.

A map of Moscow painted with red and green routes hangs on the wall on one side.

Whether they were sitting at their desks, standing in front of a map, or drinking with their glasses, they all stopped and stared at the senior officers who answered the phone.

This is a lieutenant general!

The hair was already snow-white, and the forehead was full of deep wrinkles.

After putting down the phone, he slowly turned his head, glanced at the quiet room, and finally said in a deep voice: "Confirm the location of the final target and start acting, comrades, this is our last effort and hope, for Russia!" ”

"For Russia!"

A low, neat echo echoed in the room.