Congratulations on your success in Belarus

[roseline371274]

So it's time for the credits, wick, pssshhhh, toum toum toutoutoum toum, hey, ho, you know it, I'm not going to mime it either.

Let's leave Belarus instead and meet Ethan Hunt in London, who's strolling between shops armed with his proverbial coolness, like a raptor trainer I know. And just before closing time, he slips inside a record store to use his charm on the unfortunate saleswoman who was hanging around nearby.

"  Hello sir, can I help you?
" "Hello, Madam Merchant. Indeed, I'm looking for something rare.
" "Rare? More like... classic?
" "More like Bézu.
" "Ah, I... ho. What... good. Are you more into "The Caterpillar," "Mussel Rap," or "Me Wanting job function email database Couscous"?
"If you had the complete edition of "Bézumania"...
" "Okay, Agent Hunt, we're really going to have to change our passwords, because right now, it's no longer possible. 
" "Oh really? I don't see why you say that, I like it. " 

And so the merchant lady hands Agent Hunt a 45 rpm record before showing him the booth where he must go and listen to it. Before he locks himself in, the beauty says:

“  Is this… is this really you? I’ve heard so many stories about you… they can’t all be true, can they? ” 

Well, Agent Hunt smiles at him and leaves, acting mysterious, but that's beside the point. What bothers me is that someone in the Secret Service is asking "  Is that really you?  " out loud in his hideout when there are still clients for a guy who's supposed to be super secret. I know someone who's going to be in trouble when her probation report comes due, but let's move on.

For his part, Ethan Hunt sits down in front of a record player, which is in fact a super laser player that starts reading the contents of the vinyl.

“  Good morning, Mr. Hunt. , and—
” “What? No, I really asked for Bezumania! What’s with this record again?
” “—the chemical weapons you recovered never arrived at the birthday party they were due to attend. As you suspected, Agent Hunt, the Chechens transporting these weapons were small fry. They all died as soon as their plane landed, probably executed by their superiors. Your theory that an organization called “The Syndicate” is pulling the strings from the shadows and is behind this action, like so many others before it, seems to be confirmed.