((OOC: This is an invite only. If you have any desire to take part, please consult with Sir Kenneth or myself, and be sure to reference any prior R.P. history you have./end OCC))

Nikolai Rommel was never a patient man. In fact, he was very prone to his inner rage-o-holic. When he was furious, he tended to get trigger happy... Woo-film kind of trigger happy! It was probably a miracle that he was still in one piece after all those years of playing the drug game and performing a metric ton of assassinations, where his short temper has compromised his mission several times. Yet, he managed to pull off every one, despite it meaning the death of almost everyone in his crew.

It was a lukewarm and partly sunny afternoon in a gargantuan villa on the outskirts of Moscow. A middle aged, very muscular, not very tall, but extremely muscular none-the-less man was cleaning his prized handgun. It was a custom model. Not much bigger than a normal 9mm handgun, but this one fired .50 caliber armor piercing rounds, had triple round auto burst capability and was fitted with a 48 round magazine. It was the epitome of true beauty in his eyes, the ultimate killing machine!

Of course, he had his faithful backup. A customized R11-87 semi automatic shotgun, this particular one capable of firing slugs with explosive pellets and holding 12 of these lethal munitions in the loader.

He was watching the Happy Hour Death Metal Hour on some local music video channel, which was currently playing Katelepsy, a Russian death metal band which played Texas-style Slam Death Metal. He loved brutal music, as it was the artistic companion to his brutal occupation.

However, sometimes harmony is short lived... painfully short lived.

As the video finished, the DJ announced something most grim, “Well guys, we're sorry to announce that this is the final episode of Happy Hour Death Metal Hour. Starting tomorrow, our new show, the Church of Miss G. A. G. A will be taking this spot.”

“What in the f*cking shit?!” Nikolai's deep Russian accented vocals exploded.

“Our network has come to the conclusion that death metal equals shit ratings and profits, so we're gonna be dedicating a show to the infinitely popular G. A. G. A instead.”

“Rah!” Nikolai, in his fit of rage, shot a triple round burst through his TV. BU-BU-BAM!! “This is f*cking bullshit, I must find and kill this G. A. G. A bitch!”

He pulled his phone out of the left pocket of his loose fitting khaki slacks. When he turned it on, it said droid in a robotic tone. As soon as the Droid O/S booted up, he called his most trusted subordinate. “Petrov, get me some men, some firepower and a ****ing nuclear sub. We're going to America to kill the one who calls herself... G.A.G.A!!”