[B]Southern Ural Mountains 
0312 Local Time[/B]

<This is bullshit,> Pyotr said in Russian.

He squatted down on his haunches and watched Alexi slowly climb down a metal ladder into a shallow pit. Flood lights rigged above the two men basked the entire area in a bright halogen glow. They were both dressed in jackets and boots with winter caps. Alexi had a pickaxe strapped to his back.

<Yes it is, Pyotr,> Alexi said with a chuckle. <But we're getting paid extremely well for this bullshit.>

<We are scientists. We are men who deal in fact and logic. This is nothing but nonsense.>

Alexi stepped off the ladder and looked down at the ground. The backhoe could only dig so deep in the hard soil. With the first seven feet of topsoil now removed, Pyotr and Alexi would do the rest. He pulled the pickaxe off his back and waited as Pyotr adjusted the floodlights above. Once Alexi had adequate lighting, he started breaking the soil up with the axe.

<It's not so bad,> Alexi grunted between swings. <We get paid ridiculous amounts of money to spend a few months in the Urals pretending to be Indiana Jones.>

Pyotr came down the ladder with a shovel strapped to his back. He removed the spade and stuck it into the earth with a sigh. Tightening his jacket against the cold, Pyotr leaned against the dirt wall of the hole.

<Just think we could be better served back at University and not here, digging for trinkets in the mountains.>

Alexi wiped the growing sweat from his brow and tossed the axe down on the dirt. He shed his coat and handed it to Pyotr.

<Go back up and take this with you. Find my bag, I've got some Vodka in the front pouch. You're always a cheery drunk.>

Pyotr laughed and started back up the ladder. The promised vodka was right where Alexi said it was, a half a pint of the sweet liquid still left inside the bottle. He tossed the the jacket down beside the back and pocketed the vodka.

<Hey!> Alexi yelled from the pit. <I think I found something!>

He started back to the hole. The loud, blood curdling shriek from Alexi stopped him in his tracks halfway. His hesitation was only momentary, and he started pounding for the pit. Another shriek from the pit was so loud it hurt Pyotr's ear and buckled his knees. He fell down into the hard dirt. The floodlights above popped off, each bulb breaking one by one before casting the whole area in darkness. Pytor's heart raced as he tried to crawl in the dark, away from the hole and whatever was down there. The screams had done something to him, he couldn't focus and his thoughts were muddled and confused. Something strong wrapped itself around his ankle. He yelled and tried to push away from it, but it was locked in on his leg.

The thing pulled and Pyotr screamed as whatever it was dragged him through the dirt. He tried to find any sort of handhold or purchase on the ground as he whizzed by, desperately thrashing out for some sort of lifeline. Pyotr felt himself down into the hole with the thing. He felt like he was falling for a half second before he landed on something. It was wet, squishy, and it had teeth.

And that was when the real screaming began.

[B]25 Hours Later
Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
Executive Branch Headquarters[/B]

Heavy clouds of cigarette smoke filled the operations room. The six mission control operators sitting behind monitors quietly did their job while the director of operations sat in silence in his wheelchair, puffing away on the unfiltered cigarette wedged into the holder in his mouth. The large global map occupying the front of the ops room showed the entire world in a green glow, with displayed points of interest marked in red. 

"Bring up POI 8713-12," the director said.

One of the operators hit a button. The map on the wall shifted to a display of information and pictures and data. The director watched the data flow by, his brain running calculations and numbers with the speed of a computer. After all the data was finished, a blinking display summed up with the director already knew would be the next step. 

[B]URAL MOUNTAIN SITE 
25:42:10 SINCE RADIO SILENCE
POTUS INCIDENT INTERVENTION: RECOMMENDED[/B]

The director took a heavy pull off his cigarette and expelled it into the air in a long, billowing cloud. Finally, he spoke to the young technicians monitoring their respective maps.

"If any crises pop up while I am away, I am to be told right away. But for now it's business as usual."

The electric wheelchair noiselessly glided across the ops room. The door leading to the corridor slid open, and Franklin Roosevelt rolled out of the shadows and into the light. He started tapping buttons on the wheelchair's armrest as it sped down the hall, activating holographic display of the ops board in front of him. Beside the board were names, some listed in red while others were green. He picked six green names and highlighted them to activate their communication feeds.

"Attention," he said in a clear and calm voice. "This is Mr. Roosevelt. There is to be a briefing in the conference room in ten minutes. Your presence is required."