Top secret UN notes relating to Project Recovery. Subsection #337. Authored by Alan Y.Mous on 01.07.2030 (mm/dd/yyyy) said
--Open log--
Date and time: January the 7th 2030. Monday. 08:00hrs
Team location: England, Hampshire, Basingstoke,
Team status: Dispersed
Notes: Over the last few days I have activated my sleeper cells and bought them to a central location close to their first objective for eventual rendezvous. At present team coms are separate so as to avoid confusion. I will be bringing the team together today then assigning them their first mission.
--Close log--

The frigid cold of "Great" Britain's weather permeated the air, penetrating deep into its buildings and the unfortunate citizens mercilessly and without judgment. What might once have made the country "Great" could no longer be discerned by anyone in a position to see it now. The few people who dared to go outside occupied themselves by ransacking what little was left on the shelves of the broken down shops or by burning cars and other debris for warmth. It was clear someone, either the army or an enterprising criminal, had been by to siphon the gas from vehicles overnight and had left behind them useless piles of metal sat in sludgy pools of molten snow and gas fumes. The countries people had lost their lifestyle and along with it, their sense of purpose. For a few special individuals dotted around Basingstoke that freezing winter, this was not the case.

"Rise and shine agent." Alan's voice rang across their AR systems. As always his tone was calm and professional yet somehow deep and warm. The slightest inflections in his voice betrayed an american background but otherwise it was impossible to discern anything from his voice at all bar what he was saying. He was uncompromising in his emotional neutrality and precise in his pronunciation. "I trust you are well rested. Rendezvous has been scheduled for O-nine-hundred hours this morning at Saint Michaels Church. You will attend the morning sermon then meet by the altar where you will await further instructions. Location details and directions are being streamed to you AR now. Over and Out."

Suddenly the agents augmented reality systems flared into life. In the bottom left appeared an image of what was presumably Saint Michael's church. Translucent, honey-hued amber text appeared in the top left detailing the address and then a fine line in matching colours emerged in the air like a trail of floating silk, marking the path that needed to be taken. With every slight change of position the silk wavered slightly as the advanced circuitry on board the augmented reality system recalculated and micromanaged the path lending the trail the appearance of blowing in the wind.



The church path had been swept but the result of 3 days straight of heavy snowfall had been had to erase. A thick layer of ice encrusted the concrete slabs that led to the church buildings single heavy wooden door. The inside of the building was tall and ornate, mostly wood furnished aside from what had been made of stone. Its large stained glass windows seemed to glow with light despite the relative gloom outside. Without any occupants the place seemed quiet and solitary. A brilliant place for reflection regardless of personal beliefs. The building, like the world outside waited in silence for a saviour. Whether it was to come nobody knew.

It had only been a week since the last time the world made sense, but each day felt like a month to those not used to living like animals. For Edard, the anarchy really only made the city feel more like the wilds he was more comfortable in anyway. Sure it meant a few of the would-be muggers would find themselves face down in a pool of their own rapidly freezing blood after wrongly thinking him an easy target, but that was the new societal law, kill, or be killed. Ed wasn't bloodthirsty by any means, but if put in a situation of 'me or them, he had a very strong inclination to defend his own right to live.

He'd been huddled into what had once been a posh penthouse, but had since been looted and vandalized rather heavily, but as most of the windows this high up in the hotel building were somewhat intact, the broken panes were easily enough covered over with the spare roll of duct tape he'd found while rooting through the other rooms on the way up. Climbing that many stairs had been murder, but he figured most human predators would ignore him for the difficulty in reaching him, and as a side perk, he was closer to the roof, which was his preferred method of getting around, parkouring across the rooftops.

After recieving the summons, Edard prepped his gear, slipping the gauntlet with his xiphod over his left forearm, and secured it in place before tugging his sleeve down over it. considering it was hoodie and a long-coat weather, he decided layers were his friend and bundled up appropriately. strapping the rest of his gear on, including the ammo belt and stuffing the automatic shottie in his rucksack with all his other meager, but essential possessions, -including the duct tape- he stepped out into the hallway, glad for the muffling effect of the carpet under his boots, and warily made his way up to the rooftop access so he could get to St. Michael's a few blocks away. having arrived, he made his way down to street level along a rusted fire escape a few buildings over, passed one transvestite hooker and three who were obviously women, but just as obviously diseased and or drug addled, none of whom appealed to him in the least, and passed two muggings and an attempted raping. Attempted because of his own timely intervention, though when the woman offered to *thank* him, he turned away. "I didn't do it for the thanks. Learn to protect yourself. Most strangers are more like him than me."

Finally making it inside, he waited in the back pew for the sermon to end, and, when it had, he moved to the alter under the pretense of offering up a prayer for this world gone mad, which, in truth, it was in his heart to do so, but it was an inarticulate cry, as he could not find the words to aptly describe the state of his fellow man in recent days. Finally, all he'd said aloud was, "oh, how the mighty have fallen... amen." With that, he rose, stepped back, and gazed up at the crucifix while he waited for the promised orders to come. Surreptitiously, he glanced around at the others gathered at the altar, sizing them up as a wolf sizes up potential pack members.

John had spent the previous night huddled in the comparative warmth of a guesthouse in Basingstoke under some semi-clean sheets. He'd traded the space in a bed for some food he'd managed to scrounge on the trip up from Portsmouth, and the family that had owned the place were glad of the extra supplies.
Come the morning, he felt rested enough to make his way in the cold to the church that was the rendezvous point.
Hands in gloves and jammed firmly in the pockets of his cold-weather jacket, and boots crunching through the snow, he briefly tugged the scarf around his face up to cover his mouth and nose, and blinked against the cold air as he trudged on.
The streets were mostly bare, with only a few handfuls of sullen people around flaming bonfires, or making their way to and from places to gather whatever breakfast they could, or going to and from whatever work they could find. A few trod the same course as him, evidently heading for the church up ahead.
The building had fared better than many around it. Churches were buildings of thick stone; unlike the glass and metal around them, and especially the fabric-canopied shopping centre, they would last ages.
Removing his hat and pulling the scarf back down, he took a seat on one of the pews near the middle. While he wasn't especially religious, it made it easier to blend in with the crowd. Though, with them all dressed much the same for the weather, and with their own bags of possesions, he didn't look too different.
The space began to warm up with the people seated in it, which was something to be glad for. As the priest began to speak, he tuned out somewhat - religion had never been something for him, and while he respected the rights of others to believe and didn't want to be rude and interrupt, he wasn't interested or attentive enough, and his mind wandered.
The time passed, and soon enough the service was over. Picking his way through the departing congregation, he pretended to be admiring the stained glass as he made his way toward the altar at the front of the church, glancing surreptitously at the other stragglers in an effort to work out which of them may be his new colleagues.

Connor woke with a jolt, his AR system had activated, as he sat up his sleeping bag and listened to the handler, he looked around the abandoned building he had set up camp in. It had clearly been deserted long before the blackout. It was dirty and cold but it kept Connor out of the elements. As the message ended, he began packing up his gear. He rolled up his sleeping bag, and put away the electronics he was working on. Once everything was packed up he slung the bag on his back and stood up. He dropped the magazine out of his pistol, checked it, not that he had used it, then slid the mag back in, cocked it, made sure the safety was on and put it in the holster in the back of his pants. Connor looked around the empty building once more and walked towards the door.

“Holy hell!” he yelled as he stepped out into the cold, he wasn’t expecting the burst of icy air that hit him. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, tightened the straps of his backpack, put his hands in his pockets and started following the line his AR displayed for him.

As he entered the church he began to scan the room. He didn’t like it. While it was probably a nice place to pray, he didn’t feel comfortable with it as a meeting spot for covert operatives. There were too many dark corners, and with only one major entrance and exit it wouldn’t be easy to get out of here if things went bad. He sat down in an empty row near the alter. When the service was over he stayed seated, he watched as most people left but some stayed, as the crowd cleared out he could see 4 or 5 other people near the alter, were these his teammates?

Allen was caught slightly off-guard by the buzzing of his AR system as the message was received and his comms blared with a voice of slightly American notability. Allen, being American in origin himself, could discern American voices apart from English voices to a degree. This included American who had stayed long periods of their lives in English land. He shook away the startle as he adjusted the volume of his comms and slightly calibrated the stream filter for the pathway function. He blinked heavily a few times and then finally sighed as he had leveled out of the rough patches in his AR system. It had been a few months since he had been put on assignment, and he had just began to realize what a regular life was like again, but now that was over and it was back to work with the UN. Allen rose his figure from the bed of his apartment and quickly crossed his arms over his barren chest and then stretched them horizontally outwards. His blanket slid down his legs and plopped onto the floor in a bundle around his ankles, his arms quickly twisted, turned, cracked, and popped and then Allen began with his back by laying forward, and then backwards, as the spinal joints and cartilage disks began to crackle in a mannerly fashion from one end of his spine to the other. His legs were lifted up and over the bundled blanket, which also gave way to a series of high-steps that caused his knees to pop, and he made his way into the nearby bathroom nook. He flicked the light switch and watched the brilliant over-head lights for the medicine cabinet flick on without a problem, and the warmth of the nook's sub-set heater began to warm his slightly chilling body. The immaculate nature of his apartment was a treasure of his time spent with an ex who had ingrained the lesson of a clean home. He smiled into the mirror a moment taking in the serenity and peace of his home and it's gracious gifts. He stood with an odd smirk over his face, a moment longer, as he slipped his boxers off and stepped into the shower.

He turned the knobs and pulled the small piece that closed off the bath nozzle and diverted the water through the shower head. He enjoyed the warming water over his skin a moment before continuing on with his shower and bathing himself. Moment later he exited the shower and the Bathroom nook with a small towel around his waist until he pulled today's clothes out of the nearby dresser. After getting dressed he shifted his attention to work matters and began preparing his gear. He prepared his 'luggage' pack with his standard issue gear, as well as a few personal essentials, and then he readied his Medical Jump Bag by going over everything in it and then removing the empty Oxygen tank from the left side of the main chamber on the back and he replaced the space with his collapsed bow. He then continued to go over all of his gear in a routine check, and finally finished it off by placing his revolver just inside a rib-adjacent holster that used a torso harness under his vest. He slipped his casual coat over his vest and other tops and then slipped his rucksack on over his shoulders, only to then grasp his medical bag and use an extra, locking strap, to secure it to his rucksack. Once everything was fastened together he made his way out of the apartment, but he stopped just at the doorway of his apartment and turned to look at it once more.

He glanced around at the luxurious bed he had awoken to, which was actually a futon and a scraggly looking wool blanket. His eyes quickly diverted to the bathroom nook and the nice shower, but it too was only a useless shower and an emptied gallon jug that had been used to heat water in. He shook his head and examined the entire apartment once more with a sense of realization. He looked at the dark, gloomy walls and mumbled to himself as he exited into the hallway and out of the apartment complex altogether.

"It was nice... It was nice to have it all, for one last morning." He said to himself under his breath while following the path marked for him, but his eyes wandered about the world around him. His eyes scanned people freezing, people who were hungry, people who were hurting, the world had ended to a degree. It was something of a dream, or a movie scene. He marveled at looted shops and ravaged homes, the freezing wind an accent to the destruction and the snow a latent remember of a wasteland in ice. It all seemed so befuddling, a book turned reality. Imagination a weapon against the very mind that wielded it. His eyes shifted back and forth between burning heaps of trash and wood, to piles of useless slag once called vehicles. Everything that was once apart of modern life, was now as useless as a thought, while everything that was once obsolete was now more useful then anything else. People traded in their smartphones for books to burn, and their pretty cars for decent place to sleep. He thought about how far the spectrum had twisted, and how much humanity relied on electronics and mechanics.

He walked for several minutes before his gaze was shifted once more to a large stone structure. The allure of a building bathed in Religious Belief and Devote Though shown through the frozen smog and the darkened society as a beacon for those with faith in the Lord, and his children. All manner of people arrived at the Church, devote followers, clergymen, sinners wishing to repent, and even those who had no faith getting their first taste. Allen viewed little in the manner of religions, but he knew that no matter who you are, you had to believe in something, in have faith for something. Allen rested his rear in a pew on the left side of the Chapel's hall where he had arrived just before the sermon started, and sat quietly out of respect, but also listened in for the purpose of possibly getting a smidge of hope in the word of another Human, willing to Shepard others on a good path. Once the sermon came to a close and the people of the steeple scattered out into their own prayer groups, and other little clusters, Allen made his way up to the Altar and closed his eyes for a moment while bowing and giving a silent prayer. He did not pray for himself, but rather for those who needed the prayer, and those who believed in prayer and the Lord.

"Rise and Shine, agent."

Immediately, the red headed Russian woman was jarred awake by the vaguely American-accented voice ringing in her ear, some wake-up call that was. She glanced about, bleary eyed for a moment from her rude awakening, allowing her vision to adjust with a few sporadic blinks of her emerald green. She stretched and released from her lungs a rather...silent yawn, merely miming the action with a breath of air exhaled, but no voice to accompany such. That might've been a perk to the young and stunningly beautiful woman who laid next to her, the covers of their bed immodestly covering her, and more or less accentuating her lovely figure, her subtle curvature, only clothed in a slightly frayed black Misfits tank-top and a pair of panties to match, her auburn locks of voluminous hair tousled about from what the Russian presumed...was a wonderful night of rest. She could lay there for hours and admire the woman to her side, but as it was by that voice, duty calls.

Anna leaned forward ever so carefully to Veronika's lovely slumbering face and left one last parting kiss upon her tender cheek before straggling out of bed, the light touch of her lips eliciting a hushed, incoherent whisper from the girl. The briefing from their handler was precise and to the point. All agents were to rendezvous at St. Michaels Church at O nine hundred. It seemed to be early, but since the complete shutdown of the grid, there was no way to tell what the exact time was, so it was imperative Anna hurriedly dress and gather her equipment before embarking. Just peering out the window once was enough to tell what day this would be, gray....cold.....and miserable as before. It would've been nicer if Anna and her lover were stationed somewhere more serene and picturesque, like Credenhill perhaps, somewhere in the country, but this small English Parish would have to do, though the devastating aftermath of "The Blackout" was evident upon every street corner and shop window.

A sigh exhaled, Anna struck her pajamas, consisting only of an old faded Iron Maiden T, a few holes and tears here and there, and slipped on her black training bra, then a long sleeved red and black striped sweater, later donning a pair of charcoal gray skinny jeans and pulling on her Demonia Disorder combat boots. And she thought winters in Russia were harsh. The temperature gauge on her AR read negative 10, bitter ice in Anna's opinion. So before she left, she snatched up the Metallica hoodie that was carelessly slung over the dresser and threw it on, along with a thick burgundy red wool scarf, and out the door she went lugging her bag on her back, the crisp and the crunch of English snow under her feet as she trudged onward in the freezing, moorish air. Such chaos that must've exhumed this place during the riots, windows smashed almost everywhere you looked. Nearly all the shops were looted, including Donovan's. Anna guessed if there was one thing in the world you couldn't live without, it was good music.

The church was but a few paces up the road, a giant, looming silhouette amidst the thick British mist and the freezing fog. Anna wasn't much for religion, just choosing to believe there was a God or some high deity out there. Besides, it was told for her choice of love, she would burn in Hell for all eternity. Walking through the grand entrance issued her a bit of static though, mainly due to her....outlandish appearance compared to these pious folk in their Sunday attire. The Russian merely ignored the glowers and the snide whispers of disapproval, taking her seat at a pew in the very back of the stone cathedral and sticking earbuds in. By the time the sermon would start, Anna would already have "And Justice For All" blaring through her ears.

It seemed the sermon hadn't taken that long, but then again Anna was headlong through the first four albums of Metallica and seg-waying into some Dimmu Borgir, before she decided to release the buds from her ears and shut off the small black MP3 player, its only source of life being the triple A battery it housed. The air was slightly warmer in the church, but that must've been from those who came to flock here for last rites before their apparent "Armageddon" took place. In Anna's eyes, the world was finished already. There would be no second chances, no salvation, only retribution for those responsible for this calamity. A sigh leaving her lungs, the Russian woman stood up from her position at the back and shuffled her way towards the altar casually, the telltale clopping of her heavy boots resonating off the cracked and ancient stone walls.

"Rise and shine agent." The calm and almost monotone voice almost startled Claire, causing her to look around and re-check her surroundings. She had already been up for several hours, beating both the sun and majority of what counted as the population. She had been picking through what little remained of a number of local shops, looking for anything that she could use one way or another. She had almost begun to doubt that anyone was still in charge, still in the position to wake her sleeper unit and call them to duty. After the blackout information about the rest of the world had been extremely limited. Rumours about all kinds of things, involving the collapse of distant governments, the rise of barbaric rulers and even all out war amongst other things had reached her, and she had no way of knowing what was true and what wasn’t. At least now she knew – there was still someone in charge, and with any luck they would know what the hell was happening in the world.

It didn’t take her long to get from where she was to the church, even having time to return to her now heavily reinforced apartment to gather what gear she might need. As she made her way in she made sure to carefully disable the numerous little traps she had set up, several of them being tied to improvised explosive devices, after all it never failed to amaze her how people quickly descended into their baser instincts without the rules and laws of society to keep them in line. It took her only a few moments to retrieve her weapons, her ‘illegal’ P90 fitting snugly into her rucksack with the majority of her other supplies. Her pistol she loaded before slipping it into the holster which hung at her waist, having not used it up until this moment. She only had a pair of clips for each, the ammunition actually having been much harder to acquire than the weapons themselves – it seemed now that acquiring more may be literally impossible. Lastly she cautiously packed in a pair of pipe bombs she had constructed from makeshift chemicals and other supplies, a little crude but they would do the job.

Leaving she made sure to carefully re-arm each of her little surprises, caring little for anyone foolish enough to try to break in and trigger them. It had almost surprised her how quickly she had returned to the way she had been before, only hours after she had realised that this damned blackout was global. She spent the first few hours cowering, worrying about the people she had gotten to know and formed relationships with and other foolish things. But after listening to the chaos and destruction in the streets she had quickly remembered and felt what she had many times before. She was no longer in a safe and protective environment, no longer somewhere that people could sleep safely without the fear of being killed as they did. She had killed three men that night, another the following day. All in all it had been only been six days since everything had gone black, and she’d killed enough men for one for each day. Today was the seventh day and she wondered if it would mark her seventh kill, after all countless thousands had undoubtedly been killed since this all started. Now that it seemed there was an extreme cold snap on top of everything people had to endure, which without modern heating would surely lead to countless more deaths. Pushing the dark thoughts from her mind she began the short journey to St Mary’s Church, her feet crunching in the fresh snow as she did so.

Less than ten minutes later she stood before the solid stone building, the sun just slowly begging to peak behind its solitary tower, barely managing to pierce the thin icy fog that hung in the air. It almost made her laugh that the contact had chosen a place such as this to meet, a place that could supposedly offer some level of protection to the weakened masses. She had long ago learnt that religion could offer no such protection, and often actually endangered those that flocked into its open arms. She hoped that today things would be different, that just maybe by meeting there they could say that some good had been done opposed to harm.

It was easy enough for her to gain entry to the church unseen, the doors apparently left open for weary travellers at any hour. The single man who waited just inside was half asleep, poor protection in any meaning of the word and she slipped past without even a word. From there it was easy enough to find a way above the sanctuary where the service would be held, a small wooden spiral staircase leading up into the rafters and relative darkness. From there all she had to do was wait.

Over the next hour she watched as more and more people entered the church and seated themselves, quite the number eventually gathering for the sermon. She idly watched the crowd, trying to pick out any that may be her comrades – a few individuals that possibly caught her eye, but it was impossible to tell which of them truly were here for the same reason she was. Once the sermon was over she waited for a few additional moments as several people moved towards the alter, each of them glancing around at the others as she imagined they also trying to identify each other. She stood from her place crouched high above them and made her way back down to between the rows of pew before she finally walked forwards and towards the others.

“Here we go again...” she thought to herself as she approached the alter...

(When I counted characters IC I have counted two players who have yet to post IC)

Top secret UN notes relating to Project Recovery. Subsection #337. Authored by Alan Y.Mous on 01.07.2030 (mm/dd/yyyy) said
--Open log--
Date and time: January the 7th 2030. Monday. 09:45
Team location: England, Hampshire, Basingstoke,
Team status: Gathered
--Close log--

Roughly fifteen minutes late the church priest took to the podium after having engaged in what appeared to be somewhat important discussions with a small procession of folk, mostly elderly people. He opened with the obligatory blessing and prayer before immediately launching into the community announcements and advice that comprised all of the session bar the last fifteen minutes.

"...Audrey and Thomas have kindly made a bed at their home open although they will not be offering food... The burning of property in public areas is a hazard and must desist immediately... The vestry remains open open for those who need a place to sleep overnight however due to the number of violent dissidents outside the doors must be closed by nightfall."

Much of the advice provided was inaccurate but good natured in its delivery. Predictably the service was scattered with bible references and he finished with two hymns, several prayers and the blessing of the flock. When the service did end the hall emptied with surprising speed, presumably due to the rations of food that were being distributed at the door. A couple of people loitered a little longer to talk to the priest or to drop a couple of donations on the massively diminished rations pile but soon the room was empty aside from the priest and the agents. The priest promptly fell asleep in one of the back pews. The groups AR systems jumped into life simultaneously as Alan addressed the group.

"I'm glad the nine of you have managed to find one another. Take a look around and get familiar. These are the faces you will be working with for the foreseeable future, discounting the priest in the back of course." Alan paused for a moment for people to comply before continuing. "Your first objective is 5 miles north of here and as per last time, you will be provided directions at the end of this call. As I am sure you are aware electronics have been mostly disabled. I can confirm this seems to be the case on a global scale. The running theory in term of cause is some kind of EMP as this cause conforms to the symptoms we are experiencing and explains why some tech is still working. Unfortunately the incident has damaged generators and thus, eliminated the national power grid. This is where your first mission comes into play." Another pause to allow the information to sink in.

"Five miles north of you is a solar tower responsible for powering several of the areas most crucial assets including hospitals and airbases, the former of which could be crucial to our defence should someone try to take advantage of the situation. British authorities want to send in a team of engineers to analyse the damage and fix the generator. Trouble is the tower is occupied and its occupants aren't budging. We need you to get a man inside and to keep him there. Streaming you directions and some details now. From now on I will be closely monitoring your progress and available instantly should you require additional information."

As promised the AR systems start to fill with information once more and the thread appears once more in the air.

"Rise and shine agent."

Mike woke from the odd twilight of a dream with a jolt, panting, his knife in hand.
"hah....hah.....huh?" a quick glance around his room showed his axe still jammed against the door, his gear in the corner. nothing out of the ordinary. as the voice continued hike groaned and let his head fall back against the wall. the past several days had tested his humanity. several people had faked injuries and accidents, only to jump him and try to relive him of his equipment, it hadn't worked as well as the hoped. taking a sip from the bottle of water next to him, he rose, stretching the sleep from his limbs and urging his body to wake, against its whims.

mumbling to himself and cleaning as best he could with soap and a washcloth, he put on the clothes he left to dry overnight. layering against the cold outside before packing his gear, sliding the axe headfirst into the bag, and securing his pistol into its holster on his side. with his destination mapped out for him he opened the door and calmly made his way down the carpeted hall with confident, muted strides. he tried to make the slightly warm walk last, but inevitably he opened the heavy wood door, the frost along the door jamb giving little justice to the freezing gust of wind he was greeted by.

the brief shock stopped mike for a second before he threw the scarf over his face and bent into the winds, trudging his way warily towards the shape of saint Michael's church the amber line demanding his compliance. watching other less prepared individuals slip, and fall into the snow drifts, made mike feel grateful that he bought new boots before the blackout, since then he had taken painstaking efforts to grind polish and water-proofing agents into the leather. with sure footing he made good time despite the elements.

he found the church abnormally full, deciding to stand to the side of the back door, easily blending in with the uncomfortable last minuet repenters. the sermon lasted longer than mike would have liked due to the amount of people, but it wasn't outside, so he gave thanks with the rest of them. in the end he quietly picked up his bag and made his way to the altar. he wasn't given to much time to even begin to talk to the individuals before Alan cut in again. during the handlers short speech, he took the time to look at the people around him, overall the group was unassuming, as a group they'd look like any other group that had formed from necessity. he shrugged awkwardly to the group as they all listened to their first joint operation.

"Five miles north of you is a solar tower responsible for powering several of the areas most crucial assets including hospitals and airbases, the former of which could be crucial to our defence should someone try to take advantage of the situation. British authorities want to send in a team of engineers to analyse the damage and fix the generator. Trouble is the tower is occupied and its occupants aren't budging. We need you to get a man inside and to keep him there. Streaming you directions and some details now. From now on I will be closely monitoring your progress and available instantly should you require additional information."

In a matter of a few brief minutes, the cold and somber atmosphere of the lonesome house of the Lord sprung to life as Anna's AR kicked it into high gear upon the strict and punctual voice of their American handler. Before her flashed several images, grainy at first, but able to make out on quick view of them. The solar tower was their main objective point, primitive yes, but in these dark and frozen hours that remained of humankind, it was necessary for survival, especially when you had medical emergency specialists and the British RAF's defense grid linked into the mass of solar cells rising to defy the heavens and the wrath of God himself. Speaking of defense, it appeared shabby around the power station, merely just a few scruffy looking men armed with standard grade assault rifles from what Anna could tell, but appearances and assumptions, sometimes they were deceiving. It was never clear to the Russian who or what could be behind the collapse of modern technology which in turn would surely lead to the fall of human civilization itself. What she did perceive from her handler's brief though were those three familiar letters, EMP.

That brought up a good roster of suspects, the usual, her birth country, China, North Korea, Iran. The aspect of this global shakedown was seeming to her to be of a more political nature than religious extremism, so certainly that ruled out Islamic terrorism cells and whatever holy-book thumping nutcase who wanted to get their hands around the deadliest weapons mankind's ever conceived, maybe that was one reason the Russian decided to....shun religion. Not exactly denouncing belief in a higher power, but refusing to serve such. She glanced a bit at her surroundings taking in the faces and other features of her fellow agents. They all appeared so....so professional compared to her, nicely attired too, compared to Anna looking like she ransacked a Hot Topic during the first wave of riots, yet she held her mission in much respect as these few individuals had as well.

Connor finished listening to the handler’s briefing, and looked at the other agents, “Right then, I suppose I should introduce myself.” He straightened himself out and smiled at the group, “They call me ‘Red’, heavy weapons, and comms.” Connor activates his PDA and pulls up the schematics for the solar plant, “Looks like the security isn’t air tight, but it these people staying there are dug in deep. However…” Connor begins typing, “It looks like the building has full power, so their surveillance systems are probably online. And unless these folks were working security at the plant prior to the apocalypse, it should be easy enough to hack in and gain control…” Connor drifts off staring at his PDA and typing frantically.

Realizing the group was still watching him, “Uh, sorry ‘bout that. If you give me a few minutes, I should at least be able to access the camera systems, they look like their analog so they should still work despite the EMP. At least with the cameras we can find a way in. Now, I aint exactly light on me feet, so I think I’ll leave that infiltration stuff to one of you, but I can give you all the intel you need.” Satisfied he had spoken his peace, he went back to typing on his PDA and waited to see what the rest of the team had to say about the first mission.

John watched the faces of his new colleagues as their handler briefed them. Over all they seemed like a well accomplished group of citizens fallen on hard times; the perfect cover for their job. Everyone in the group seemed to have held a decent job in their civilian days...well everyone but the woman who stood off to Bishop's left. The redhead looked like some goth punk druggie to John. Now he wasn't an expert, but their civilian jobs often reflected who they were as people and what their roles to play were and if John hadn't heard the words from his handler's mouth, he wouldn't have believed that this woman was one of them. And if everyone within the group was to get along without complications, he really hoped she wasn't a druggie.

Turning away from the Redhead, he faced the new speaker. Red. Hmm, a good enough handle, John mused. Heavy weapons and comms. Contrary to popular belief heavy weapons and demo don't always go hand in hand, and Bishop wasn't going to complain because 1) he was their demo guy from the looks of things and 2) the man sure seemed to know how to use his tech. They hadn't even been on the job five minutes and Red was hacking into the camera systems...And from this distance too. That much alone gave Red John's respect.

It was this final reality that they were finally going on a mission that executed the last of John's internal civilian facade. The flood gates had opened and the cold man inside was rushing to take over. The new change in demeanor would almost have been obvious if John didn't have total control over his face and posture, no the former fighter may have become the heartless man on the inside, but his exterior hadn't changed one bit.

"Rook or Winterborne" Bishop said to the team. "Demo and....Persuasion," he said after a pause. 'Don't know for sure yet, but I don't think there will be too much of a need for demo on this mission, but who knows,' he thought about saying, but decided he would just leave it at what he had said.

Invictus said
The redhead looked like some goth punk druggie to John. Now he wasn't an expert, but their civilian jobs often reflected who they were as people and what their roles to play were and if John hadn't heard the words from his handler's mouth, he wouldn't have believed that this woman was one of them.

Anna wasn't too inclined as to how this man, a judging and pompous attitude she noted of him, only a few paces to her left was looking at her. His stare towards the rather short red-headed woman were unnervingly scrutinizing of her, especially when those gray eyes of his glazed over with a spark of enmity struck. Narrowing her ferocious green towards the bastard, Anna equally returned the scalding glare and broke eye contact soon after, intently dialing in on those who chose to introduce themselves to this seemingly motley crew of individuals, given what Anna considered tasks of the highest importance, military of course, but to trust such to these chosen few felt as though a rough gamble which may or may not see valuable results in the outcome.

Remaining quiet, as always of her..., Anna listened. The first to introduce himself was "Red." Must've been a callsign or something. He would be the hacker of the team it appeared, as he managed to operate his PDA with ease and easily crack the security database of the tower. The next to follow was the judgmental man who was already on Anna's I don't necessarily like you list, or better yet simply fuck you. His name was Rook or Winterbourne, whichever Anna picked, though Asshole was seeming to be a fitting option to her for this guy. His specialty, demo and persuasion. Ah, so he was one of the loud types, Anna thought. Those who liked to go in full blast instead of taking a more subtle approach, but then again with her expertise, there wasn't much subtlety in a .30 caliber round traveling at high velocity and cracking the human skull open like an egg, with a fine mist of blood and brain matter spewing forth.

Finally, it was her turn, and she had absolutely no idea why she even bothered to introduce herself before these people, given that....she lacked a voice. Taking in a deep breath to her lungs and exhaling a bitter sigh, she stepped forward, clad in nothing but metal's finest fashion and began to sign with her hands, "Annastasia, but if you call me by my full name, don't expect a reply. Anna will simply work. Before you ask, yes I'm mute as you can tell, and sign-language is the only way I can communicate, unless one of you has a pen and something to write on. I may not look the part of a hardened soldier, but from what I see, neither do much of us here." That last crack was definitely pointed towards Rook, given by the slight glare Anna gave him before continuing. "My expertise lies only in sniping and covert operations, reconnaissance if you will. So if we are considering infiltrating the solar tower, despite the low level of security, our best option is still a stealthy infil and exfil, we get in and get out without a shot fired. If the opposite, then I will provide overwatch from a vantage point while the rest of the team infiltrates."

As if on cue with her speech finishing, the doors of the church opened, catching Anna's eye as to who walked in, a young woman, slightly curled long brunette hair, and the face of an angel above. It was Veronika. Anna was delighted to see her girlfriend here, but also, panicking. "Excuse me." She signed before rushing past her teammates to the other Russian woman, catching the amber-eyed beauty by surprise. "Babe?" Veronika spoke to Anna with that sweet voice heavy with her homeland accent, albeit the hint of concern resting upon it. "What are you doing here? You didn't tell me where you were going this morning, Anna? I didn't think you were a church-goer." About that? Anna was going to respond, but it seemed Veronika got the hint. It was just as that UN Official spoke of and the day...had finally come. "Wait...are you...?" She whispered to the red-head, a storm of emotions flooding her face, the most prominent, apprehension. "Baby, please don't-" immediately she swapped her well practiced English for her native Russian. "Look, I...I'm just not sure of this. I know this means we can go home without the government arresting you, but I'm worried Anna. I don't want you getting hurt over just a pardon from the UN."

Overprotective of her as always. Anna sighed deeply, glancing into those worrisome eyes before she replied in signs, "Sweetheart, I know, but you don't need to worry about me so much. I can handle myself. More-so, I worry about you being safe. What the fuck are you doing walking around when there's a bunch of looters and shitheads about? The world isn't safe anymore, Veronika." "I was looking for you." Was Veronika's reply. "I woke up in the apartment and I couldn't find you. I got scared."

"It's okay, Veronika. I'm fine, but I want you to go home now. Lock the doors and windows. There's a gun in the nightstand drawer and two magazines left. Use it if someone tries to break in." And with that, she gave her lover one last kiss on the lips before sending her off. "I love you. Be safe, okay? I will do the same for you." Veronika returned the affectionate kiss before saying her goodbyes, "You better, you little devil, or I'll kick your ass." She said with a light chuckle. "Goodbye baby. Please be careful." To the rest of the team, she waved politely. "Sorry if I interrupted. I'm leaving now."

Anna sighed, a bit of a smile as she watched Veronika leave, but it faded when she turned back to her team, twisting into a scowl, "Yes, I have a girlfriend. Any homophobes here, keep your fucking mouth shut."

Edard may not have known sign language, but as they would say a few generations ago, 'there's an app for that'. He'd found it before the blackout, an app for his AR driver that translated finger spelling and common and tactical sign languages into text he could read off the Eye-Net display. As a short man, Ed knew he'd have to choose to speak up, or be forgotten.

"Pathfinder. My specs are wilderness survival and Close Quarters Combat. Considering the still-forming plan we seem to be putting together, I could run supplies and intel from the sniper and/or recon posts and mission hq to and from the man inside. I know how to move around, and speaking as a man who hasn't broken six foot, I tend to do hide and seek pretty well." Feeling that this was introduction enough, he fell silent, moving only to cast the lesbian red-head a respectful nod before looking over the rest of the group once more.

He'd always been of the opinion that real love didn't care what body you wore, as it was mainly concerned with the heart, with the soul. From what he gathered from their interaction, she had found something true. That was worth protecting. He made a mental note to keep an eye on her, and do whatever was required to help her keep her promise to come back home to her woman. Even if all that was truly required, was to stay out of the way.

His eyes fell on codename: Red. a Heavy with fingers nimble enough for hacking? Well, he could mark that off of his 'paradoxes to watch for' list. Still, the man was already proving his usefulness, and Ed couldn't deny that. And considering this was a mission where collateral damage was preferably kept to a minimum [easier to patch a bullet hole in a wall, or paint over blood stains or replace gore stained carpet with linoleum than it was to repair infrastructure after someone let fly their gatling cannon], it was a good thing he had the techno-savvy. Otherwise, well, sending him in with 2000 rounds seemed like a perfectly viable plan 'B'. Maybe co-ordinate so the sniper takes out the leader a moment before?

Something upset him about Rook/Winterbourne though. Nothing he could see or anything that seemed odd about the man's speaking, maybe it was the set in his shoulders, or something in the man's eyes, but Ed got the sense that it wasn't a situation of 'either of these names is fine' introduction, but more of a 'have a care about which side of me has your attention' introduction. Perhaps this was just instinct honed after so long in nature, but the man seemed a bit cracked in the head, and the survivalist made another mental note equating that one with a claymore mine, with it's infamous labeling: Front- toward enemy'.

He looked the others over, still trying to get a decent read on the others, but knowing all too well he may be grossly misjudging people. It was why he liked to keep those thoughts to himself. Firstly, because it really wasn't their business what he thought of them, secondly, because he knew at every step any or all of them may surprise him, and continually prove him wrong, and thirdly, because he really needed to see how the group dynamics were going to play out before trying to weave them into a cohesive unit.

John had remained quiet so far, listening to the others' reactions to the brief before speaking up himself. The sudden arrival of the young woman's lover surprised him, but didn't disrupt the flow of things much, and he tuned back into the situation.
So far, they seemed like a fairly easy to get on with group; all professional and eager to discuss business. Since introductions were in order, he spoke up from where he'd sat on one of the pews closest to the altar.
"Good morning," he said with a slight smile. "I'm McIntyre, though I end up getting the nickname 'Old MacDonald' from some people, since I'm older than most of my colleagues. My specs, as Mr Pathfinder put it, as human intelligence, negotiation and information gathering. I'm also good at 'hide and seek' too, and similarly related things, such as observation and assessment".
He regarded the others, taking a mental note of their handles. Their youth surprised him to some degree; he had expected older operators like himself, or at least one closer to his own age. All the same, they knew what they were doing, or else they'd not be here in the first place. He was impressed that already, they were forming a plan.
"Regarding our mission - I think getting eyes-on to the tower, as well as the camera footage, would be an advantage to our plans. Observation from a distance to establish what the situation is, and how many are present there, and what they're doing, how professional they are, that kind of thing".
He nodded to the group. "Good to be working with you, too".

Claire listened as their handler spoke, her mind analysing the information as much as she could. This blackout was on a global scale, he confirmed – the very thought of the sheer scale of the event was almost enough to make her shudder. Without any power whatsoever things were chaos, and that was just where she was. Her thoughts turned to those who lived in major urban city centres, in buildings so tall and packed to the brim with occupants that only the advanced technology of today kept things barley habitable. Things would have quickly deteriorated into what she imagined would be practically literal hell on earth, running out of food, water and everything else – being attacked by your neighbours or whoever else that wanted what you have. In her mind she pictured the looming skyline and streets of the biggest cities - Beijing, Tokyo, London, Cairo, Buenos Aires and countless other places that would now more resemble the warzones that she was used to surviving in than the glistening paradises they were supposed to be. Pushing the thoughts from her mind she focused on the present, on what they had to do. Seemed a simple enough task to her, re-take a solar turbine from whatever occupants were refusing to budge so that it could be fixed and used to aid with re-establishing some of the critical infrastructure that had gone down. She wasn’t particularly worried about the task, seeing as whoever it was that had taken the turbine would likely be little more than a poorly organised group who hadn’t a clue what they were really doing. If they were anything more professional or organised then it would bode very badly, not only for the ease of the mission, but also in the bigger picture of what was really happening to the world.

As they each introduced themselves and what they did Claire waited for her own turn, as she watched and listened she made sure to memorise what each of them said. ‘Red’, the first to introduce himself was heavy weapons and comms, plus he seemed useful enough having already begun trying to tap into the tower remotely. She grinned inwardly at his name and the blazing red goatee that adorned his face, coupled with his mostly red strawberry blonde hair she didn’t have to wonder how he got the name. His accent was definitely Irish, pleasing to the ears in her opinion – much more so than the thicker Irish accents she occasionally heard which could be quite hard to decipher. He seemed confident he could access the security systems to some degree, making her wonder what magic he’d be able to work with a local connection to the place.

Next was a man who introduced himself as ‘Winterbourne’ or ‘Rook’ – demolitions and persuasion were his talents apparently. He kept it short and sweet, something which she was somewhat thankful for, eager as ever now to get things moving. She detected what she thought was a possible eastern European twinge to his accent, but it was still too early for her to tell accurately what exactly it was she was hearing. She couldn’t help but also make a mental note that he was physically what she considered quite attractive, and made a point to make sure she kept such thoughts away from her mind. She noticed him glance at the other woman in their group very briefly, a glance that the woman met with what could be considered as quite a glare.

The first thing that stood out to Claire was obviously her clothing, being quite different from what the rest of the group were wearing. The apparel made her look quite young compared to most of the others, but she knew it may not be the case. Aside from that though she knew next to nothing about her, Claire had quickly learnt not to judge others based on how they looked or chose to appear, having worked with an immense number of people who on first glance she would have considered a poor choice for soldier. More than a few of them had turned out to be the best warriors she had fought alongside, on-top of that Claire knew that she herself didn’t exactly look the part of hardened veteran, especially since she had returned to the UK and re-embraced her more feminine side.

The girl exhaled once before she steeped forwards slightly and began to introduce herself. Initially Claire was surprised when she began to sign, only as she hadn’t expected any of them to be mute, let alone this ‘fiery’ looking individual. Claire knew a small amount of sign, having spent more time than she would care to admit amongst those who through one way or another were left unable or unwilling to speak. She gathered that Anna was her name easily, and that she was their sniper and proficient in covert operations, but she wasn’t sure how much of the rest of the team understood, and if so how much they did and so Claire repeated what she had learnt, just so that the others could hear and to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood.

Just at that moment shortly after the door into the church opened Anna signed to be excused and quickly moved over to the woman that had entered. Claire felt slightly guilty listening to what was said, but in the practically silent church it was difficult not to hear what was said, even when the girl switched to Russian. It became quickly apparent to Claire that this girl was, as she was, here because there was something being held over her head. She didn’t know what it was, but already it made her feel a little better knowing that she wasn’t the only one here not necessarily by choice. The girls kissed and the newcomer left with a quick apology to the team – leaving Anna with a brief smile on her face before she returned to the group, the smile now a scowl as she warned them that she wouldn’t be tolerating any homophobic behaviour from any of them. Claire grinned slightly, already liking Anna and her attitude towards the others. She’s learnt working in some of the less tolerant places in the world that a woman often needed to establish that she wasn’t to be messed with if she wanted to be taken seriously from the get-go.

Next to introduce himself was a man called ‘Pathfinder’, survival and CQC. She quickly picked up that he was also Irish, though a considerable amount shorter than Red was (also than she was). He kept his hair in a ponytail and also had some facial fuzz in a ‘goatee’ type style complete with moustache and soul patch. He kept his introduction short and sweet, seeming to also notice the slight friction being generated between Rook and Anna, but kept his mouth shut rather than saying anything about it.

Next to introduce themselves was the oldest looking of the group, McIntyre or ‘Old MacDonald’ as he was apparently called sometimes. He seemed friendly enough and started with a smile before he introduced himself, apparently his area being human intelligence, negotiation, information gathering and what they were now apparently calling hide and seek. He looked more like he may be ex-military than any of the others, having quite a solid and muscular build as well as the shorter hair generally associated with the military. He quickly summarised what she had been thinking about the mission, that they needed to do more surveillance to establish exactly what the best way to proceed here would be and from there work out what was next.

Seeing as she was ‘next’ in the circle, she cleared her throat and removed her AR glasses before introducing herself.

“Claire” she began “or Ashia if you were looking for a handle. I suppose you’d say I specialise in guerrilla warfare and my driving abilities.” Hesitating for a few moments, realising that she wouldn’t look like much of a soldier she added “I came back to the UK a few years ago from the far-side of the world. You name a war or revolt over the last few years then you can guarantee I either took part or have killed someone who did.”

Satisfied that she had appropriately dismissed any preconceived notions about herself and kept it short and sweet, she smirked slightly as she moved backwards a little and attempted to look as innocent as possible after what she’d just said, her left hand idly twirling her red lengthy hair as she did so watching the others for their reactions.

In the netherworld that was the internet signals flew back and forth sporadically and falteringly from Red's pad as the messages struggled to transmit through a world without power. Eventually however Red's efforts paid off and images began to appear frame by frame on his pad following redirection by an apparently still operational media satellite. The cameras employed in the plant were old, a cheap cutting of corners chosen by the agricultural corporation that had built the facility. Despite their antiquity they still provided clear images albeit with a slow five second refresh rate.

The enormous tower funnel itself was devoid of people and featured a large, spiralling staircase comprised of thick metal grates. These circled the funnels interior walls all the way up to the top, stopping only at each of the eight turbine service platforms located fifty metres apart from one another in the ridiculously tall tower. Each platform was home to one of the solar towers horizontal wind turbines which spun lackadaisically in the funnels up-draught of air. An empty lift occupied the towers quiet but smart sky lobby. The really interesting footage came from the cameras in the control centre below.

The control centre was a hexagonal building "wrapped" around the base of the solar tower and beneath the canopy of the greenhouse. Its doors were guarded primarily by bored looking plain clothed individuals armed with a motley assortment of hunting rifles, baseball bats and shotguns. There were a few people, largely separate from the other guards, who were better armed and armoured than the others. They possessed smart, riot style protective gear and relatively new but cheap production submachine-guns. Unlike the others they patrolled from defensive point to point and seemed far more professional in their approach to guarding the facility.

Looking deeper inside the facility would show a scene very different to the harsh outer perimeter though. The interior of the facility seemed far less "militarised" and here people are largely unarmed. There was also quite a significant population of women and children occupying themselves with what little work or play they could find. At this moment Alan's voice rang out once again.

"A note on the occupants. As far as we can tell they are refugees who've refused to stay in the camp. The army was forced to evacuate all homes within a large radius of nuclear power plants following the Blackout. People leaving the refugee camps and squatting elsewhere is an increasing trend with ration problems. Trouble is these squatters refuse to let British engineers into the building out of concern they will be evicted. The British army has set up a wide perimeter on the facility and negotiations are under way but it seems as long as it is british government forces that would be accessing the building our squatter friends refuse them entry... As the occupants are civilians it is desirable that they are unharmed if possible."

Mike waited until a few of the group had introduced themselves, and new intel had been delivered before he coughed.
"oh good, we got non-combatants in the facility." mike said signing in ASL for Anna. "that's going to make it a one sided firefight should the mission go tits-up"
he coughed again to clear his throat. "Mike Nawlin, or 'Lucky' as i've been called and prefer in the field" he spoke, . he had to put a bit of effort to resist signing "LUCKY" "FRIEND" ""DON'T SHOOT" or "POTATO" and remain professional. in all honesty the thought of a 7.62mm round through his occipital bone made him reign in his sarcasm more then goodwill.
"worked as a fireman for a while, earned my paramedic, and then got snatched up by the U.N. due to my past work and experiences they trained me in rapid Infiltration and Extraction." he looked around at the group. "Meaning if someone gets cornered, I'll be one of the people fighting the way in. If we find ourselves surrounded, I'll try to find us a quick exit." he thought a bit. "think of me as a happy medium between crawling through air vents, and blowing holes in walls that alert everyone in a mile radius or more."
he shrugged. "other then that, I can treat wounds, handle a rifle, and blend in just about as well as anyone else."

Allen let everyone introduce themselves, not because he was too good to go before them, or that he felt waiting was safest, it was just that his interest in taking in all of his team before describing himself seemed like the smart thing to due. He wanted to read them to the best of his degree and then assess how they would take him, and his weird combat style. He was a somewhat quirky man, but a stone combatant, and often times the team effect of his job could get the better of him if his mental problem, a form of depression known as "Social Paranoia" kicked in. Social Paranoia is a form of depression that causes one to feel as if their actions and opinions anger or upset others around them, as well as make the person feel as if they can't trust their friends or those around them, and that when someone is comforting that person, it is just a lie. This was a flaw of Allen's, a major flaw at that, and it was what kept him so quiet around people. When the silence began to take hold of the group, he finally spoke up and smiled while nodding.

"Howdy, everyone. It is a pleasure to meet, and start working, with each and every one of you. I am Allen Jensen, and I just go by Allen. I have spent the majority of my life training and working in medicine and Emergency Medical. I have become a validated EMT, Paramedic, Nurse, and Pre-med study, but when I joined up with the UN, I went from solely saving lives, to this, and here i am now. I specialize in combat medical and emergency combat medical talents, while also holding a rather odd combat style. I practice and have become an expert in tactical archery. I know it is odd, and something out of a sci-fi movie, but in this day an age it is possible. I hope to get along with you all, and I hope I never have to treat any of your wounds." He chuckled a moment at the thought of his words, nodded again, and then found himself silent. He had begun to think about the objective at hand, and the idea of who would be doing what and where, and also how. His own skills, could be useful in some ways, but it also seemed limited for a free-runner who used tactical archery and small arms. He took some time to think, before giving his own opinion and suggestion.

"I can work both in or out, but I would work better inside I think, my bow is a good silent weapon, by nature, and I could assist in clearing and securing the interior. I am quick on my feet, and quick on the draw." He explained simply with a straight pair of lips and a stone-blank expression.