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Annika made her way along a street, her jaw set grimly, her hands both curled around a strong walnut cane she'd liberated froma deceased old man, her only weapon against the living cadavers that roamed the streets. For two days now, Annika had lived in a numb haze. After that horrible train ride she'd rushed home. Sputnik had been late. And he hadn't returned that night. She'd gone to his parents house to look for him but her search came up empty, and the way the elder Hopkins' had looked at her in turns while staring out the window, looking for their son, as if she was to blame, had punched a hole in her heart. She'd left in the early hours of the morning, setting out to the SOCA headquarters. The director barely had time for her, but told her hurriedly that he hadn't seen Sputnik since yesterday. The entire SOCA was in an uproar at reports of the deadly illness and there were thick splotches of blood dotting every street just outside the building.

"Look, honey," One of her fiance's fellow-workers had said quickly, a look of pity on his grizzled face. "There aint no reason to stay here. You gotta get to a safehouse."

A safehouse. That's where he would go if he were still alive. He was alive. He had to be alive. And so, Annika had set out on her own, hoping to rendezvous. If he wasn't at one safehouse, he'd be at another, and she would find him.

She pressed on. One cuff of her pant leg was slightly tattered and her knees and part of her shirt were stained with tiny drops and puddles of blood, a thin coating of grime, much like soot, had accumulated under her heavy eyes and across her cheeks.

The girl was had torn a flyer off of a nearby building, feeling bad for those who came to look for a safe spot after her, but having no pen, she was not able to copy the locations. The flyers were everywhere, but Annika wanted to be certain she had one in her posession. Who knew how long those others would stay there? If it rained, (or if they were sprayed with enough blood, which seemed almost more likely here, Annika realized with a shudder of fright) they would become illegible, and Annika was not familiar with London.

Catching sight of what appeared to be a nurse, Annika quickened her pace a few steps. She grit her teeth as she remembered the nurse on the train who, after being attacked by that walking corpse had reared up from the dead like the rest of them.

"Excuse me." She called, her tone flustered and frustrated. "Do you.. do you know where I can find--" The girl pulled out her flyer. "'The World History Museum', 'Gallow Street Station' or 'St. Peter's Church'?" She offered the other young woman a slight grimace that in this time could be looked at as almost friendly.

Seeing the blood on the other's gloves she took a hesitant step back. Oh god, please, this woman wasn't sick, was she? Not again.. "Are you alright?" She asked, making her doubts in the question.

"This is NOT a safe area! Those things are everywhere!"

The commotion stirred a few bystander from their tense positions, and a wave of murmurs passed over the gathering. "That man has gone mad!" an elderly lady whispered. It was unfortunate that it was not quiet enough. Kazuo turned sharply to face the woman and connected a solid punch into her forehead. The crowd shrieked and rushed away from the area, and of course a few went forward to help the woman. "You daft p***k! You just attacked a defensless woman!" Kazuo snorted, narrowing his eyes below his visor. A taller, well-built soldier came shambling forward towards the incident. His stripes marked him as a sergeant.

"State your name and position, soldier. And remove your helmet, this is a no-fire zone."

With hesitation, Kazuo removed his helmet. The inner linings were top-of-the-line, offering direct sattelite communications, tracking systems, even a built in wireless database linkup that could be projected on the inside of the visor. Kazuo was careful to not let the sergeant see. He was an attractive individual. His face was perfectly aligned, but strong. His hair was disheveled with clumps falling here and there over his bright blue eyes.

"Agent Kazuo Nagi, Japanese Detachment, ninth division, sir."

"Japanese detachment? Who gave you permission to be here in London?!"

"Your government, sir." Kazuo gave a smirk of amusement. "And forgive me for saying so, but under no circumstances am I obligated to take orders from you."

This angered the sergeant. "Why you cheeky, ruddy, sonofa..." Kazuo raised his gun to the sergeant's forhead. It was obvoiusly not a standard issue firearm. It was much larger than a beretta, but the barrel was no larger than 8mm. A faint blue glow created an aura at the base of the barrel, illuminating Kazuo's hand and obscuring his face.

"This is a BH4800 Rail Pistol; a highly advanced electromagnetic propulsion system. You know how the ligh-train works in tokyo right? Using magnets and coils it accelerates the train to a high speed in a matter of a few seconds. This is the same concept, except a 6mm explosive uranium round is much lighter than a train full of people. This pistol is equipped with an auto-aim adjustment system, which can redirect and realign the inner chamber in a cycle of .1 seconds. This means that even a poor marksman can hit a bullseye everytime. The explosive rounds themselves are individually manufactured to detonate upon impact. This way the target is hit, but no one behind it will be. I could go into more specifics Sergeant, but I choose not to. I won't even bother going into the specifics of my other fatigues. Nor will I concern you with my mission, or my classification as a stealth and espionage expert."

Kazuo fired, and the sergeant flinched. When he turned around, the old woman was lying on the ground with a bullet hole in the dead center of her forehead. Her skin had become pale and her eyes were white. Drool dripped savagely from her gaping mouth. He then noticed a large chunk of flesh has been bitten out of her waist had ceased bleeding, almost as if the woman was dead before she was shot. "Is this one of the...creatures?" he asked. But when he turned around, Kazuo was gone, and no one in the crowd had seen him leave.

Kazuo walked carelessly down the stree, up another block, with a sense of pride and arrogance. It always came down to firing his gun and putting on a pretty show. Then while everyone glanced away, you'd only have to take a few steps back and walk away, easy as that. To them he was perhaps considered an astounding heroic individual, but to him this was just another day at the office.

"Geez people. Hiding in a church. Stupid."

Kazuo put his helmet back on. He heard some shuffling on occasion, most likely from scavengers. He was caught off-guard by a sudden feeling of uneasiness. He remembered his mission perfectly. First, find out what caused the outbreak. He had that part down for the most part. It was apparently viral in nature, changing its form airborne, to direct blood transfusion. He couldn't pinpoint the source, nor did he really care to. Second, he was supposed to collect and retrieve a sample. He'd collected it easily enough. Bodies weren't hard to find here any longer.

Ofcourse remembering his mission was fine, but remembering his vendetta was equally important. His OP base had been gassed and grenaded two days ago by some sort of mercenary faction. Not to mention they were smart enough to bust the radios and sabotage the helicopter. Not many had survived the attack. It had been such a suprise that practically no one had a chance to suit up for get to safety. Whatever remained of the division had holed up in a hotel, the Hotel De La Rue. The entire floor had been armed with turrets and trip wire, while snipers dotted the windows. The roop had been webbed over with semi-obvious wire to prevent helicopters from landing. The wires weren't connected to detonators, but any intelligent enemy wouldn't even try to call that bluff. The only way to hurt them there would to be completely invisible.

It would have been humane to escort an entourage of citizens to the Hotel De La Rue. The supplies from the base were still 99% intact, even though the company was reduced to a force of about twelve. Food, water, electricity, clothing, enough to comfortably support a battallion of 250 for months, not to mention the 'hazard-time' of a week without communication before they dropshipped another cargo load to last them even longer. The Japanese detachment could have easily helped everyone in that church. Unfortunately for them, Kazuo was an a**hole, and he liked it that way. As their only scout, he would have been the only one capable of leading people to the hideaway.

"They can rot in that church. I don't owe them anthing." he thought to himself. Until given new orders, Kazuo was free to do as he pleased. He'd spent the morning picking off a few of the dim-witted living dead, some of which he knowingly fought unarmed as a means of workout. But their endless supply and slow reflexes left him bored in the end. Then he came across a small gathering, two maybe three people, standing on a curb. "They can keep me entertained for a while." Kazuo muttered. Some sort of nurse, a woman in a dress, and a soldier guide they appeared to be, and obviously were not aware of one of the creatures shuffling out of the doorway behind them. Kazuo aimed and fired and the creature fell to the ground with a thud. It would be fun bull-heading these people around for a while, and when he got bored he could ditch them easily. His conscience seemed to react. It warned him that "what goes around comes around." A little fun never hurt though, and he was dying for something to do. As he approached, he gave them a rigid salute, carefully hiding his smug smirk, and planning what words he would use.

"Kazuo Nagi, ladies. At your service."

The girl with the indigo hair turned, glancing over her shoulder at the stolid reply. A wave of relief washed over her form as she realized the newcomer was a soldier. Annika's vision lingered only momentarily, drawn away at the sight of the blood and grime speckling the woman's form. "Thank you." She said, absently pulling her shoulders a little straighter, almost as if to stand at attention. The woman may have been only a Private, but that was more than Annika would ever be, and the sight of the gun gave the young woman a sense of security.

A mere two days into an outbreak and the world had turned upside down. Living dead roamed the streets, broken bodies dragging themselves after fresh blood like some horrible monsters out of a zombie-flick. How could this even be real? Forty-eight hours ago, Annika had been engaged. She had had a future. Who could have a future now? "Thank you." She said numbly to the female soldier, just as a harsh bang filled the air behind them. Annika turned her head slowly, again tightening her fingers around the cane in her hands.

Her good eye stared this new soldier down. She felt as if something was amiss, but not seeing any obvious signs, she offered a reserved "Hello." She wondered if the nurse beside her would speak. She'd heard the woman muttering to herself before. "My name's Annika." She said, her voice aimed at anyone in the small group. Cocking her head at Jo, she asked: "What's at the Church?"

"Thank god." Annika muttered quietly in response to Jo's words. She had never been a holy type, sometimes even detesting religion, but if there was a time to pray, that time was now. Usually one to snap to sarcasm, particulary in the case of testosterone, Annika remained quiet, letting the female soldier handle the situation. It felt so good to put some responsibility on someone else, ease the weight a little. Relief began to sharpen the young woman's numbed senses slightly, bringing on the acrid, rusty smell of drying blood from all around.

It was at that point that Eva snapped. Annika jolted in surprise, stumbling slightly and catching herself with the help of the cane. She could feel her blood pressure begin to rise with Eva's cries.

"Calm down, Lady!" She hissed through her teeth, then, realizing the sharp edge in her voice, toned it down to what she hoped could be construed as a helpful, if not particularly friendly one. "We don't have it either... It's okay... We're gonna be okay now..." The words were tinged with her own desperation, her own need to believe them. The woman clenched her teeth together, an unnoticeable shiver of apprehension running through her form.

Kazuo laughed.
"Ok? You think everything is ok?"
He wanted to continue but his conscience once again interrupted. "What's going to happen when you are in their shoes Kazuo?" Kazuo refrained from going any further. It was time, he felt, to express a little sympathy.
"You're right. Miss Soldier girl here will take care of you."
Kazuo made a gesture to the soldier woman. She looked green in every regard, but at least determined. The air was tenser then. Kazuo tried to meet the eyes of anyone in the group, but they all seemed to be deliberately avoiding him. The nurse was still on the ground clutching her hanky and vehemently coughing. The soldier was dutifully trying to keep the nurse from haming herself, and the woman was trying to console the her as well. Kazuo's annoyance must have hit home. He noticed a few dark glances and rolled eyes when he said, "Are weall just going to whine here or are we going to get moving?" Kazuo's consience twinged slightly. He sighed heavily then started to leave.
"Take 6th street to get to the church. It's faster."
The group barely seemed to notice him leave, and began to argue that road blocks were in place there. But when they looked around, Kazuo was gone as quickly as he had come. But they were sure to see him again.

The purple-haired girl locked her gaze straigt on the male's, her good eye shone dark brown, her bad eye a more faded color, but both orbs flashed with a quiet intensity.

"Yes, I think it's as okay as it can get at this stage." She said, trying to keep a negative charge out of her voice. What did he expect them to be doing? All they could do was stay out of the way and try not to get killed. She took in his next advice, glancing to Jo to see what the Private would do about it.

But there wasn't time for that. Annika cursed under her breath as Jo pointed out two more of those creatures that people turned into when their lives bled out of them.

Again, she squeezed that cane, but this time for comfort rather than to use it for protection. The wood was surprisingly strong. Limber too, there was no chance of it breaking anytime soon and, as for the encounters she'd previously had with the walking corpses, it absorbed some of the shock of impact enough to not leave her hands stinging. Yes, it was a modest, but useful weapon and she knew she wasn't about to get rid of it anytime soon, but Jesus was she glad that Private Tyler had a gun.

At that moment, Eva apologized and quickly broke into a trot, headed away from the little group. "Wait!" Annika cried out after her. "You're headed right for one of those.. things!"

Indeed, no sooner had the Swede spoken than a haggard body with a dead white gaze made its presence known a mere few yards in front of Eva. Another, closer to the small group turned its head slightly, almost as if scenting the air, and slowly changed course towards the Nurse. Anyone could see that if the two zombies kept closing in and Eva didn't get out of the way... there would be blood on the ground soon.

"Look out!" Annika's voice rose in desperation.