He thought it strange that his tail should be between his legs on this, his proudest day, his crowning achievement, his coming of age as it were. On all sides of the parade ground made to accomodate entire Batallions were men who would shape the face of the world, all come to gawk and inspect him as he stood smack in the centre of the asphalt square, facing towards the only other one like him in existance, Ivan. Ivan smiled, his weasel's muzzle parting amiably into show of teeth that could only be called predatory, looking back on the young man standing roughly to attention for all to see, a German Shepherd sitting at his side, remarkably well trained and facing foward as was his master.

"Today our young Agent completes his training to become the second of his kind in the world, part of the famously successful Recom Agent program, and he will head onto active service with the KGB." On the pedestal to his left, Ivan read off the speech he had planned out for this most important of days. The young being in question stayed perfectly still. "Without a doubt, the most advanced example of genetic recombination since myself," continued Ivan, his smile broadening. "Hopefully he'll outshine me and I'll be able to retire." The gathered crowd all chuckled politely, not being the kinds of men who were quick to miss an opportunity to appear pleasant while in public. Ivan reached for the pedestal, taking into his hand a small pistol, tucking it neatly against the pads on his palm and fingers.

The young agent watched through peripheral vision the events taking place around him. He knew he was the source of all this concern, the object of all the hushed speech around the perimeter of the parade ground he was on, and most likely, the kind of thing that every well-stocked military would be racing to purchase. The dog at his side leaned against his leg comfortably, and he fought the urge to lean down, giving the thing a scratch behind the ear which he knew felt as good for the dog as it did when somebody else scratched him, which was not often. The dog could not speak as he could, but being an animal, a true weasel, he understood Collins better than anybody. Collins had been with him since the beginning of his training, almost as soon as he remembered first opening his eyes onto the smiling faces of the Russian scientists that had engineered his birth. They were smiling, victorious, he remembered, but not for him. He was alive, and they, his creators, would be famous men. They tossed him to the KGB as soon as he could walk. Ivan, first of his kind, a recombinant weasel KGB Agent, had given him Collins. Collins was his friend, his partner, and the only other creature in the world he had ever talked to other than to utter 'Yes, Sir' or to clarify orders.

He blinked, his memories interrupted when Ivan held out the pistol to him. His eyes swivelled down towards the firearm in the other Agent's black furred hand, an MOD-12 Roche he recognised instantly. A twelve round clip capacity, and yet he could tell by the weight of it as he took the deadly lump of metal into his hand that it carried only one round. Questions raced in his head that he would not ask while on parade, lest he appear unprofessional in front of all these people. Ivan was rambling on, more rhetoric about his mission and his obligations to the KGB. Collins sniffed at the back of his hand, his tail flicking happily under his rear as it sat on the hard tarmac - weapons training was fun!

Ivan stopped talking to the people surrounding him, then looking back at his young apprentice, gave him his first order as a fully-fledged KGB Agent, which he had been trained from birth to become and be the best of since the beginning of the Agency.

"DeValera, kill that dog."