((It is shorter and less detailed than i was hoping, but I wrote it unlike ten minutes at six in the morning with no sleep so-- XDDDDD. Is starlight? I might make it a note later when Im not on my phone. So.. This is KGB Ana Installment No. 1 XDDDDD)) “Amelia, I don’t think that is how we are supposed to--” the Amerikan male’s annoying voice was cut off but a loud noise, perhaps a slap? Anastajia was having a hard time discerning the noises as she teetered on the oh so thin line of consciousness and consciousness. She wished the latter would overtake her swiftly. But as a bright light was shone straight into her eyes, she knew she had no such luck. But she sat there, expression passion, despite her battered appearance. A bit of blood trailed from the corners of her lips, and her hair was in disarray. Small bruises and cuts littered the rest of her. At least her clothes had survived. Mostly. The Amerikan female approached then, a scowl on her tan face. She was not pleased it seemed. Not that Ana really cared. The female drug over a chair, being sure the metal legs screeched in protect against the concrete floor, before she straddled the seat, sitting in the chair backwards. She crossed her arms over the back of it, resting her chin atop her wrists. “So you are the little Russian spy, hm? I should have guessed. Filthy Communist,” Amelia spat, her azure eyes flashing briefly with hate. “You think you can just come over here and sneak in here, dig out our dirty little secrets?” “Nyet,” Ana replied with a great and dramatic sigh. “I don’t think anything; I /did/. I infiltrated your little system, right under your nose, and sent your precious information to big brat.” She had a smug look about her, which only angered Amelia. She saw the hand coming before she felt the slap. She’d admit, that stung. She was even surprised by that-- not many people could make her feel pain after all her years of war. But Ana thought slapping was such a disgraceful thing, and with a look of pure disgust, she spat right in Amelia’s face. The golden blonde woman let out a shrill shriek, while the male-- Alfred was his name, dy? -- just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, shaking his head slowly. “I told you, Melie. This ain’t one of them times you want to be playing games. We need information out of her--not for you to start a catfight,” Alfred said snarkily, speaking truly at last. As his own cerulean eyes met Ana’s violet one’s, there was a spark of curiosity, but mostly hatred and annoyance. That was fine by her, she mused. Shed be out of that dump soon enough, anyways. A few hours of interrogation passed. Threats, even a little violence, but Anastajia gave nothing away about her brother’s plans. Not that she knew much of them anyway. Like hell she would tell him if she did. She ended up in a solitary cell, white brick walls all around her, and a large metal door separating her from her escape. No windows. Not even a door handle. Just her, the walls, the door, and a cot. No restroom. How classy. She let out a snort as she sat down, and raised a foot, as if she were crossing her legs. But in the heel of her boot was a secret compartment, to which she pulled out a special anti-magnetic tool. She smirked. Stupid Amerikans. She walked right up to the door, and pressed the tool ot a circular port on it where they used their magnetic keys to get in and out. There was a sizzling sound, before the smell of burnt rubber reached her nose, and the door opened with a low hum of electricity as it stopped circulating currents. No guards. Did they honestly believe she would not get out? They surely underestimated her. She almost felt offended. Almost. It did not take her long to find her way out of the building--which turned out to be nothing more than some warehouse type of place. Once outside, she made her way to a pay phone, and dialed her contact. Time to go home. She sighed. She knew when she saw her brother, she would lie about how she had gotten the marks. Say something along the lines of sparring with some soldiers, or getting into it with her male counterpart. Lies, of course. But he could never know the truth, for if he did, he would surely not let her continue her work in the KGB. And she had much yet left to do. Stuffed into her duffel bag were plans--big plans, that had to do with weaponry and, if it came to it, war. She just hoped she could provide her brother with enough information to protect him. Hopefully. She soon was back at home with her brother, and she had to spill the same repeated lie. But he looked weary, even suspicious of her activities. But she had to continue with the lies, with the secrets. For him. For his empire. Why? Because her name was Anastajia Arlovskaya, and she was a Russian spy.
Posted on: Mon, 24 Mar 2014 10:32:34 +0000
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