[b]"Rise and Shine, agent."[/b]

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.