The weather's quite gloomy, light rain showers upon cold, dark high-rise buildings, a bright neon board displays '21:32 19°C'. The streets of London gleams with countless skyscrapers, while endless billboards floods the sidewalk with neon advertisements. Natalya, her black blazer flutters lightly, particularly the left sleeve, where an arm and elbow would be, while red ash cracks from the cigarette between her rugged, but contoured lips.

She enters a particular apartment to escape the rain and is greeted with CCTV in every corner of the hallway. The hallway resembles of that found in 3 star hotels, with several paintings hanging from the egg-white wall, with the bottom part of the wall partitioned and covered in plastic wallpaper, the pattern resembles that of optical illusions. She proceeds to the elevator and after arriving to floor 6, unlocks a door with the room numbering  610 and a mailbox embedded to the wall with the name 'Natalya Nevinnaya Z' etched on it.

Inside the flat, a Royal Army ceremonial uniform can be found neatly displayed within an oak frame, a gun display holstering Accuracy International AX50 chambering .50 Browning Machine Gun, next to another display holding a well-polished Russian shashka, with the blade unsheathed, near the displays, on the ground there are several green metal ammo boxes piled on tidily, on the far end of the wall a rugged Union Jack flag hangs proudly upon a light blue wall covering the living room, and a single photograph displayed inside a metal frame, hanging near the Jack. The photograph portrays 6 people lined up, all smiling, in white camouflaged uniform upon a cozy landmark in a town somewhere in Norway.  She proceeds to the kitchen, taking a single vodka bottle from the alcohol ridden fridge, the label on the bottle reads Русский Стандарт, or Russian Standard in English, and pours its content to a large shot glass. She then drops her large stature upon the couch in the living room, a heavy thump resounds, she puts away the glass and does some hand gestures in the air, and a television emerges from within the heavily decorated section of the wall. The television turns on as she does more gestures, flicking to the left as channels in the TV slides quickly, the channels stop sliding at a news channel, a terrorist attack had blown a mall in Nottingham, she can be seen visibly recoils, her only hand forms a very tight fist. Her phone rang, a familiar voice speaks

"Sup Nat, ya free tonight?"

"Uh huh"

"Great! I'll meet ya at the usual, ok?"

"Right"

The rain had stopped, light breeze replaced the cold water. After 10 minute walk, Natalya arrived at a pub, the sign read 'King Chester's', the building looks fairly old, with a vintage touch. She enters the automatic oak door, light jazz reverberates around, there is a large 25 inch TV hanging at the end of the bar, it is showing a football match between Manchester United and Liverpool, she is greeted with 2 people on a large round sofa, in front of them a table with a few bottles and several shot glasses, a deep male voice calls "Over here lass!". She proceeds to slowly sit on an empty side of the sofa, takes a black-colored pack of cigarettes, it reads 'Johnny Valentine Special', and light it with a worn Zippo lighter. The voice talks

"Ya look quite nice"

"..."

"How's the arm doin?"

"Fucking hurts somehow, the former parts, that is"

"Ooh, I've heard 'bout it, phantom limb pains"

He continues "Bummer for them though, quite unlucky event I tell ya"

Natalya replies "Yeah, nothing I could do about, at least at the time"

He replied "Aye, am sorry"

"Anyways" Natalya sighed, as she tries to contain her emotions and keep her cool "So how you two been up to?"

"Aye, I'm been trying ta get me on some hotties, I'm looking at it now"

Natalya combats "Stick it up your arse Grant"

"Seriously though, my shop's been doing very well, many clients , many repairs, we even got us some more arc welders and several new toys! You know the newest buzzsaw machine? It cuts limbs so fast the patient don't feel any pain! Shit's bloody brilliant!" Grant exclaims

"Holy shit, that's quite impressive, speaking of new toys, have you got the latest DARPA arm model? Shit's bloody awesome"

"Nah lass, shit's under license and heavy regulations, we mere mechanics don't got access to that level of bloody good shits"

"Bollocks" Natalya questions "Oh right, how about you Ryan?"

Another man, occupied with his phone but still sort of listened, joined in "Me? Still doing the same goddamn job after we left college together, bloody sucks mate"

Grant replies "So the Ryan we knew hasn't changed a bit! Good ta know "

Ryan retorts "Oy mate, I'm callin it quit next week, and I'll finally open my own pub from my savings! Like, I waited so long to fit lotta this piggy bank"

Natalya scoffs "Chk, are you certain it'll work?"

Ryan responds "Course it goddamn will"

"Have you forgotten about your college startup? That one that worked so well, so bloody well it dragged me into it? " said Natalya sarcastically

Ryan retaliates "Oy, That was bullshit, you know that right?"

"What? It's not like you lost an arm because of it, isn't it....?" Natalya retorts sardonically while maniacally grinning

"Yer one cynical cunt ye are" Grant added "Cool off lass, ye keep this up ye ain't gonna get a boyfriend nor a girlfriend"

"..." "I apologize...." "I just feel like killing someone tonight"

"As expected from the dogs of war, I think ye might actually enjoy it that time, yeah? That fucked up mission?"

"You're taking the piss? You have a death wish пиздец?" Natalya's hand forms a tight fist, her blazer gets even tauter than before as her muscles bulges, ready to release the internal tension.

Ryan readies his balisong in response to her readying herself, he assumes close combat quarters stance, the blade's edge shines sharply.

"I SAID COOL OFF YE CUNTS!" shouted Grant as he pummeled the table with both of his large arms, huge thump echoes the bar as crinkled vodka bottles and shot glasses fell sideways, onlookers inside the pub paid no heed, almost as if it is common event.

"Whot in her majesty's name is wrong with ye both tonight? I called ye two to take your minds off the pisser, not another civil war"

"Fine" Natalya then puts her hand up and called a waiter "Bacardi 151, one bottle"

Ryan sits silently, but gazes sharply at Natalya, as the while Grant chugs from one of the shot glass filled with colorless liquor. Ryan checks his phone again, the rectangular device, approximately 3 mm thick, unrolls from a bracelet on his wrist, it is surprisingly rigid and solid when unrolled, various oblong square apps filled the home screen, he taps one of that resembling an ancient camera, several people in video rewound a few times occupies the opaque screen.

"Here's your liquor miss"  Natalya unscrews the cap, and quenches a quarter of the fiery liquid, Grant comments "Whoa careful mate, alcohol poisoning is a painful way to pass"

"I'm not that suicidal" responded Natalya as she took a second cigarette, again, white smoke exits her mouth. Then just like Ryan, she also unrolls her phone and opened up a few unsafe imagery. Thus the night continues monotonously, while Grant and Ryan spews occasional grunts and/or cheers while watching football on the TV and Natalya's deadpan gaze unto her phone, and infrequent looks to the TV.

The next morning. A digital alarm clock rang aloud, apparently displays "SAT 06:00 21C". A large hand disables it. The hand is connected to a muscular arm, it is clear to see it has seen heavy usage. The arm connects to a curvaceous torso, large and voluptuous breasts droop above robust abs, covered by white opaque tank top. Stub of a former arm, comprised of thick muscles, can be seen ending mid-bicep. Down below, sturdy hips and stout thighs attach to tall and athletic legs, well hidden behind short black boxers. Cut collarbone seen clearly atop wide and rugged shoulder. Large firm neck affixed to feminine yet handsome face, a dog tag necklace wraps around the neck, down and ending unseen behind the cleavage. Unkempt shoulder-length black hair flows. The figure is Natalya.

She wipes her eyes, sluggishly stood up,  and raised the blinds, the sun's light bathed the bedroom, but is slightly tainted by seemingly perpetual neon billboards, varying in languages. She continues to the bathroom, wiping her face with ice-cold water, wears her glasses and  proceeds to tie her untidy hair to high ponytail, and combed the rest of remaining bangs. Her foot steps into the kitchen and her hand reaches the top shelf easily, as the shelf was around neck-high of her, and grabbed a tin filled with Assam loose tea leaves, then poured the contents to a teapot, and drenched it in nearly boiling water. As the tea steeps, she goes to the living room and turns on the television. After about 5 minutes, tea is poured into an mug, sugar and milk is added and mixed. Warm, rich tea travels down her esophagus. The sofa creaks slightly as she puts her stature, she flicks her hand, the television stopped  at a news channel. It depicts the usual news of northern Sweden shelled by the Norbotten Green Army, after disputed mining of recently discovered deep uranium deposits in an area around 5 kilometers from Lannavaara.

Deadpan, she unrolls her phone and checks unread messages, some of them are banters in group chats and the rest are spams. Seeing there's probably nothing better to do, she continued to the wardrobe and strapped a large black sports bra underneath the tank top, puts on a collared white dress shirt, then a dark green turtleneck sweater on top and cargo pants, and gingerly applied woody-smelling perfume. She reaches to one particular button underneath a rack inside the closet, with a click, the walls behind the closet splits into two, it separates and reveals a plethora of weapons. Her hand reaches a polymer conceal carry holsters, one is a bra/cleavage holster, which hangs just below the breasts and supported by an additional wraparound, another is a simple on-pants belt holster behind the trousers, it is slightly different, as it holsters a knife. She grasp a singular firearm, Glock 26. Glock 26, 9mm, 10+1 capacity, custom 416R stainless steel 1/2X28 threaded barrel, it loads with a resounding click, 1 extra 10+1 pinky extension mag into the bra holster, and pocketed a suppressor into the same holster-pack. Another weapon, a simple 2-edged knife which tapers into a fine point, the knife is put into another sheath on the small of her back. Both weapons now fully concealed behind layers of clothing. She continues to the shoe rack near the entrance and wears a pair of worn waterproof loafers. She flicks another switch adjacent to the entrance, sounds of the television and heater turning off can be heard clearly, the door is closed and locks automatically.

Various people pass by along the pavement, while high-speed cars whizzes by the asphalt road. Up above, several of layered ringways spanning the entire city can be seen, stacked on top of each other, each one of them has their own sidewalks, access to the buildings adjacent to the ringway, and access to ringways above and below it via numerous stairs. Couple of the ringways penetrates some bulky buildings, these are designated bus, taxi, helicopter, and underground stations, as it connects the underground beneath, officially called Massive Public Transport Station, MPTS. The ringways are of various sizes and thickness, those which are the thinnest goes through many bulky buildings while branching off to 6-10 lanes wide ringways, which are dedicated highways. Along these ringways gigantic electrical billboards are supported by pylons and thick steel wires. One of the ad shows campaigning election party candidates with slogans such as "Restore Britain, Rejoice" and "Equal and Diverse". "Bloody champagne socialists" She muttered to herself as she passes by the campaigns. Some parts of the city are covered in ringways and sufficiently dark that street lamps and storefront neons glows 24/7, these are usually fringe slums filled with decrepit flats, underground black markets, brothels, and inexpensive clinics, complete with unlicensed doctors.

Even though the sun still shines faintly under the gaps of several layers of road and concrete, orange street lamps dimly lit hard pavement below. The streets were lively, food vendors sweat as orders come left and right. Trinkets and baubles scattered across the paved stone, their owners shout diverse ranges of prices. Perceptive people might see some hints of several certain vendors offering contraband items, most obvious are narcotics and such, but illegal, military-grade bionics are some of the most popular amongst gang members and self-proclaimed assassins, although at worse conditions. The Big boys usually procure them from their bosses, or select outsourcers, seldom they have enough expertise in the bioengineering department to manufacture such intricacies, but those who do have, often do not look human, other times even polypedal. Natalya walks towards one of the vendor, he currently does not see her as he's concocting arrays of street food. Her eyes focuses to several culinary items.

"2 egg waffles please" He nods, prepares it in about 4 minutes, "2 pounds" She gives the exact amount, her hands grabs the polyethylene bag and stroll away. Observant as she is, her eyes catches several people steals few glances, particularly at her quite large bosoms, she pays no heed and kept her deadpan face. Meandering about the dark, but lively streets, around 700 meters, the vendors thin out, until at a point where there are only few people scattered about, there's only few shops, occasional barber, and plenty of sub-optimal apartment complexes lined up in 2 files on the sides of the street. An hour of walk later, an opening to the monorail-line up above, fortunately it is quite empty.

The lift closes, it begins to accelerate at breakneck speed, the LED displays 50m, 100m, 150m. As it approaches 300meters, it slowly decelerates and stopping at 350 meters. The doors slides open, a dome hallway that is akin to a walking aquarium greets its new passenger. At both ends of the hallway, a ticketing system, a semi-transparent fiberglass door prevents unauthorized passage. She opens her wallet, an ID card with her face is shown below the transparent part of the wallet, a few euros, a credit card, the same photo of 6 people, and a cross amulet, she swipes the credit card to the part of the system, it lights up from bright blue to neon green, the obstacle shifts from being perpendicular, to parallel to the hallway. There is a station platform just forward of the ticketing system, below that, a concrete-metal pattern resembles monorail tracks. Considering this is weekend, there isn't that many people around, the seats are mostly empty, save for a few figures, her bottom fills the seat nicely. 5 minutes later, the monorail arrived, there were not many souls inside, her bottom migrates from polymer seat outside, to synthetic leather seat inside. The interior is a sea of polymer and painted steel, the monorail map is as bland as a printed polymer, it depicts vast networks of stations in and out of London. Mostly the interior of the monorail is rather nondescript, short of a few people, a sliding text of ancient LED technology of 2005 which shows the next destination, and the scenery of London skyline below.

The view is to die for. Tall metal, glass, concrete, and polymer amalgam of a structure seemed to grow out of the unseen artificial Earth beneath. Colossal arrays of LED panels sprinkled the buildings, displaying diverse selections of advertisement, Weissman's Electronics, Pulmack-Flintstein Medical, Polyu, and many other such faceless logos. Although these are mundane for people of 2059, or what's left of them.

Several smokestacks puffs unending streams of cloud-like white smoke, signaling that there's a nearby nuclear power plant embedded deep into the earth, in the middle of East End. The smokestacks is surrounded only by a few skyscrapers, Goldestein & Family, Donenti Incorporated, Brothers's Distributables. Going into the further parts of the city, more slums appears on what's left of the Green Belt. Reduced in 2024 by Gerard Batten, further reduced in 2028 by Nigel Farage, and completely annulled in 2035, replaced with low-density homes, cheaply sold at first, but as many more people migrated to the UK, more desirable high-density flats replaced short, wide traditional homes. London looked closer to Hong Kong now than ever before, poetic justice? You decide.

The outer ring of metropolitan London, has been reconstituted with large factories, medium to high density flats, and underground or tall parking spaces. Natalya recognizes some of the factories, as those were the places where UKSF commissioned some of their weaponry, if not outsourced from USA, Germany, or France. Some of these factories are indeed weapons fabrication facilities, disguised as either fully automated civilian car assembly stations, or large dual-purpose electrical components manufacturer/PCB assembly stations, these usually hosted Accuracy International sniper rifles, small arms products of Thales Air Defence, or other types of small arms weaponry. She occasionally shot her AX50 in an underground range inside the factory, back when she had the default amounts of limbs. Sometimes high-ranked employers and commissioned officers regularly shoots there, when not wanting to fly to USA or Scotland for outdoors ranges that permit larger calibers. The noise and vibrations of the factory above helps subside any explosive reverberations when testing occurred, other than 200 meters thick concrete and sawtooth soundproofing foams covering the surface area of the walls and ceiling.

Entering Slough, a riot can be seen from the polyester window. Testudo wall of metal riot shields lined up against a variety of protesters lobbing bricks and metal pipes, periodically molotov cocktails. Not an uncommon occurrence around in those particular region. The situation inside the monorail can be described with one word, monotonous. People entering, then leaving, although not to the point of overcrowding the monorail. Her legs finally move towards the exit as the LED panel brightly displays Reading.

She reaches the elevator, and got unto the ground, approximately 59 meters above the sea level (2059 metrics). After a few blocks of trodding the pavement, a medium-sized archway, and  a decade old sign that reads, Reading Cemetary, and one next to it, Commonwealth War Graves. Inside, at the very back, 5 tombstones are lined up, each assigned a number and a name, "Nikodem Polizac", "Dianne Churchill", "Kolman Vinzenz", "NIclas Olle", and "Lewis Carlisle" respectively. Beside the rightmost of the grave, there's a vacant lot, devoid of any sign of tampering except the cut grass. She puts down the polyethelyne bag in front of the 4th "I remember you stealing all of ours back at #34 in Hong Kong. Sorry I didn't get for all of us, the deers might come here and fucked about. I'm gonna go now, take care". All replied with silence as the breeze swept her clothes.

"5.99" The clerk reads "Fingerprint or App?"

"Cash" "Take the change"  she  hands out 10 pounds  and sweeps the cheap whiskey.

"Pardon, but.", the clerk stops halfway "Lady, are you still living in the 10s?"

"I'd love to" "Before all these bullshit happened" she looks at the flatscreen hanging on the corner of the store, near the clerk. "Another terrorist attack on Nagasaki's newest Plutonium power plant, investigations point to Green Army's involvement" the headline reads.

"You have a point, though this makes me remember of my da-" before the clerk could finish,  in comes 3 lowlifes, armed with battered pistols and an unusually clean-looking baseball bat.

"'IGHT YA LOT BETTER GIFF US YER QUEENS OR WE AINT PLAYIN IT EASY!" one of the tidier man screams, while spewing a flooding amount of spit to the floor.

"Take it easy big fella" the clerk replied with caution "We don't want trouble"

"DASSIT, 'OW BOUT YE TITS MCGEE?" again screamed the man, but now directed at Nat "Awww poor lass, she missing an arm" "Ya got hit by a lorry? heh" two of the gunmen grinned.

"Big lass missin' one arm, boss, we got a jackpot"

At this point, Natalya gestures her only hand to the clerk, rotational hand motion around the arm near her neck, she assumes he understands.

Her hand reaches under her sweater and grabs the Glock in one quick motion\, immediately disengaging the safety and tackles the gunman closest to her\, then firing 2 shots in quick succession to the stomach of the gunman. Using him as a human shield\, 2 more shots flies to the other gunman's head before he could ever react. The apparent boss\, staggered by the sudden shots and the realization that at least one of his thugs lies lifeless\, attempts to catch the falling pistol of the dead gunman. His attempt proved successful and attempts to shoot Natalya with reckless abandon\, who now is still behind the human shield. 7 more holes entered the still living human shield\, sending more spatters of crimson across the floor. The final bullet\, shot by Nat\, entered the last thug\, *thud*\, sound of his corpse hitting the floor.

"Y... You just killed them!" The clerk cries, giving her a dirty look, while also looking dirty himself with blood that isn't his.

"They were a threat, what in His Majesty's name was I supposed to bloody do?" She retorted "Sit on my ass and wait to be fucked and possibly even get killed?"

"This is a massive cock up, what am I going to do?" the clerk says in a panicked tone

"Call the cops, I can arrange this." "Tell them 'The Russian bitch buggered off', see ya".

"Are you taking the piss?" the clerk shouts one last time, before ultimately dialing 999 on his dated smartphone. Bright green vested men arrived 3 minutes later, but couldn't find the perpetrator.

The perpetrator, seemingly unscathed and clean of any evidence, grins "I didn't get caught, aha. How long was it? Too long." "That felt real good, the brain bits really makes it." "It was justified, it was justified, they tried to kill me, I'm still a good girl, I'm still a good girl calm down, my time is over, no more violence, come on you're better than this." "Ah Блядь"