Anzhela drew in a long, labored breath leaning back in her seat. She eyed the paper's before her from a distance before holding them at her side, standing and walking toward the door. Her mood had just gotten worse, which ten seconds prior didn't seem possible. She was a British citizen of of Russian-Greco decent, using a Latin German name, working for a newspaper agency in Brazil and was expected to use this cover to stealthily investigate the goings on behind an illegal weapons trade operation, the participants in which would already be on high alert following the discovery of 007's interest in their activities. What's more, she had the help of Great Britain's infamously incompetent SAS. A group of scoundrel's she'd come into contact with prior to now on many an ocassion with less than disirable outcomes. She exited M's office, offering not so much as a "<em>good day, ma'am</em>," walking toward the laboratory where Q and R would surely be preparing whatever death trap of a contraction Anzhela would be expected to take along with her on the journey across the Atlantic to South America. What would they have in store for her this time? Could it be a large red and white bull's eye she'd carry upon her back? She was just<em>dying</em>to find out, as she stepped through the bullet proof glass double doors and was greeted by the two senial inventors.