It had started simply enough. An English businessman returning from a business trip in Australia triggered a red flag when he was stopped in Heathrow. While passing through customs airport security officials spotted some suspicious items in the man’s luggage. The man himself was acting suspicious, which did not help his cause at that moment. The item in question was a clear liquid stored in amber pill bottles; they were hidden under all of his clothing, embedded into the suitcase itself. The man thought he could have gotten through as he felt he was smarter than those the airport had working for security. He was mistaken and detained. He had refused to talk to security about the fluid in the pill containers. It was then that one of the security agents tested the mysterious material and froze solid as if becoming a mannequin. Another hour would pass before officers of the London’s famed Metropolitan Police Department arrived on site and they brought with them members of a secret international sanctioned police agency calling themselves the International Temporal Enforcement Agency, or ITEA.
The unfortunate traveler by this time had been brought up on smuggling charges by the Metro Police inspectors at the airport and knew he was in a world of trouble. He easily broke, hoping for a lighter sentence, when ITEA agents interrogated him. He spoke of his time in Melbourne, Australia for a business conference. He was recommended while there to visit a gentlemen’s club named Onyx. In the club there were several life-like mannequins who turned out to be actual women suspended with Sedative Type-7. The man had enjoyed himself immensely and had even gone so far as to meet the owner and acquired about the drugs used to immobilize the young women. Being a business man, he immediately saw the potential for such a drug back home. After some negotiation he managed to buy some of the unusual drug but for a cost that consumed nearly his whole bank account. He had thought the opportunity was worth it at the time but now facing jail time, the risks had obviously been too great. In the end, even after he told everything he knew, the businessman was led away in handcuffs, his future uncertain but surely ruined in some aspects.
The owner of Onyx was named Seth Greenberg. After some digging by ITEA, it was found that Seth was the former assistant manager of the Paradise Foundation’s Black Division. The Foundation had been a past enemy to Interpol, whose numerous members were part of ITEA currently. The Black Division was the worst or at least the worst of the Foundation’s clandestine operations, as it was responsible for multiple high-profile kidnappings and even a inciting a plot to take over the world. In the end the Foundation had been defeated and most of its members were sent to prison. Everything unlawful that was done by them was more or less put back to normal, with a few exceptions. One was Type-7 was now a rampantly rising black market drug worldwide; that consequence alone was one of the reasons why ITEA existed. The other being that several high-ranking officials of the Foundation had escaped prison terms after stating that they did not know their company was up to all those crimes. Seth Greenberg was one of these officials; being a former corporate lawyer he easily escaped prosecution and vanished. Until now. Within twelve hours of the confiscation of the Type-7 at Heathrow, an ITEA team was sent to Australia with the mission of taking down Seth Greenberg and freeing the women of his club.
Four days had passed since Palmira Tiago, the interim team leader of ITEA’s team Alpha, had arrived in country. The team’s normal leader Tasia Spiro had been suspended until further notice due to bad command decisions in the face of looming crises. The team included Sophia Katsopolis as the second in command and undercover specialist, Suzanna Ortiz as the team’s science and forensic specialist, Jelena Hendraille the Alpha team weapons and tactical expert and finally Colette Landry the team’s computer expert. Given all the information that they knew about their target Seth Greenberg, it was easy to track his club Onyx down. The problem was it nearly impossible to get into. On top of being super-selective over who could join the club, via proper background checks, screening and deep bank accounts. Seth Greenberg had topnotch security operatives working for him at the Onyx, along with an equally advanced security system. The club itself was located in the basement of the historic building it occupied, surrounded by solid stone walls. Apparently the location had been a bomb shelter of some sort during World War II. To make matters worse, according to local PD and Interpol there were several escape routes that were unknown as well, making any kind of overt breach impossible even if it was by force. The man they were seeking also never left his club apparently, at least not by any of the known entrances.
After a day of brainstorming on their next course of action, it was decided the team would look into the women that Greenberg was supplying to his clients. It was really their only ticket in, since the wait staff was also heavily screened. They searched missing persons’ cases and sure enough they found a pattern. Though most of the missing women were prostitutes, there were some outwardly normal women in the bunch as well. It seemed that all of the victims had visited a series of clubs throughout the major cities that were quite spread out and even occurred at random times. Colette, analyzing patterns with the help of ITEA’s think tank back at the home office, came up with a possible club where the supplier might strike next. A plan was suggested by Sophie to implant herself and Palmira into that club as patrons who fit the pattern of victims. Palmira was also an undercover specialist and though she didn’t have to be included in the operation, she wanted to go in and feel the thrill of undercover work again. Secretly she just wanted to get dosed with Type-7 again. The senior agent had started to crave the muscle stiffener drug more and more ever since her undercover operation in Paris. The plan was that both she and Sophia would be wearing blank Type-7 chips to counteract the immobilizing effects of the drug. Essentially they would be immune to it and thus able to surprise their captors.
While visiting the club gave the agents some time to relax in character, wining and dining on ITEA’s tab, it took another day before something happened. The team was beginning to feel they had gambled on the wrong club. Feeling safe with Colette and Jelena watching their backs along with some plainclothes Interpol agents, Palmira secretly removed her chip so she could feel the full effects of the Type-7 if she were to get drugged. After a few hours of dancing, flirting and hanging out at the bar, the two sexy ITEA agents met a man calling himself Eliot who invited them back to his loft for a private party. Eliot was a handsome blond man who was an American, which tipped him off that he could be the supplier. He had promised the ladies a good time and some free booze. Usually the two women wouldn’t have fallen for the trite pick-up line but they were supposed to be drunken party girls so they bit. Eliot took them back to his place, unaware an Interpol tactical team trailed him led by the three remaining ITEA agents.
At Eliot’s loft it didn’t take him long to drug the two undercover agents. He had sprayed Palmira with some Type-7 infused perfume and given Sophia a laced drink. Being immune to the immobilizing drug, Sophia wasn’t sure if she was being drugged or not, but when she saw that Palmira had frozen up she took a gamble and acted as if she was a living statue too. The Greek was seated on a stool and held the martini glass stiffly to her lips, her free hand rested on her thigh. Her long legs, emerging naked from under the cocktail dress she wore, were crossed at the knees. Her partner stood a few paces from her, leaning slightly forward, her hands clasped in front of her with fingers interlocked. There was a rigid smile on her lips and her eyes were closed. The voluptuous Brazilian was dressed in an even shorter cocktail dress, exposing her sexy legs and cleavage enough to attract any man.
The blond man waved a hand in front of Sophia’s blankly staring eyes. She was trying her hardest not to blink or tear up. She had to wait a little bit more before she could spring the trap. She knew her team and their Interpol support were nearby so she and Palmira would be relatively safe if an errant movement blew their cover. Eliot giggled, seeing the Greek did not budge and moved on. Sophia sighed inwardly in relief and managed to blink quickly when Eliot’s back was to her. He moved over to Palmira and proceeded to grope the Brazilian’s ample breasts. Palmira did not react at all, remaining perfectly motionless. Sophia commented to herself that the younger agent was good, there was no way Sophia could hold a pose if that man touched her like that. The Greek’s heart suddenly skipped a beat when Eliot proceeded to hike up Palmira’s dress and dug his hands into the front of thong to feel the pretend-immobilized woman up roughly. There was something very wrong! Sophia panicked; was Palmira really frozen? She had to do something. Sophia couldn’t live with herself if she witnessed her partner being taken advantage like that. Just as Eliot began to work the dress off Palmira, Sophia acted.
“Don’t move! Police!” she ordered as she hopped off the stool and tossed the half-full glass towards Eliot. The blond man jumped in surprise from the yell and the glass breaking against the hardwood floor. Palmira toppled over, holding her unbending pose, confirming Sophia’s thought that the woman was indeed frozen.
With perfect timing, the loft door was kicked inward and Interpol senior agent Peter Colsen rushed in with a shotgun held up tight against his shoulder, aimed at eye level. Following close behind him were Colette Landry and Suzanna Ortiz, both wielding their ITEA issued SIGs. Following them was the rest of Peter’s team.
Eliot took one look at the onrushing storm of armed cops and bolted. “Stop!” Sophia shouted as she kicked off her heels and gave chase to the American bare-footed. She heard Colette scream something behind her but she was locked on her target and chased him down the hallway to the back of the loft. At the back of the hallway, Eliot ducked left into another room. The pursuing Greek followed, right at his heels. The room was a bathroom with an open window. Eliot jumped through the open window headfirst. Sophia dived after him, grabbing his shirt with both hands. Her grip strained as Eliot made it through to the other side and her ribs slammed into the windowsill with a crack as sharp pain flooded her senses. She still had him though but he yanked against her grip, slamming her already damaged ribs against the sill once more. This time the air was expelled from her lungs and she felt suddenly faint and light headed. Her grip weakened and as she slid to the floor Eliot broke free.
The blond man was out on his balcony and could smell freedom. As he headed towards the railing to jump down the next level, a heavy force slammed him to the wooden flooring. It was a small body but the punches that slammed into his face and ribs told him otherwise. He struggled and tried feebly to free himself, but the punches only rained down on him harder. It was becoming harder to breathe due to the heavy body blows from the person sitting on him. His nose felt broken, there was a cut over his eye and he could taste blood on his lips. “I give up!” he finally pleaded.
“Turn the fuck over!” a young woman’s European-accented voice ordered him forcefully. Eliot complied only to have his arms bent roughly backward to the point where his shoulder joints threaten to pull out of its sockets. He moaned in pain as he felt flex cuffs tighten around his wrists with a loud zip. The weight was off of him finally.
“Sophia?” Colette called quietly, patting the dazed Greek agent on the cheek.
Sophia blinked in surprise and came to, feeling the extreme pain on her right side. She saw Colette’s worried blue eyes staring at her. Pete Colsen knelt next to the Canadian with his friendly eyes and smile. “How long was I out?” she asked and realized she had trouble breathing. She about to ask what was wrong before Pete answered her thoughts.
“You weren’t out long, a few seconds at best, don’t move though; your ribs look broken, at least two of them. We have the medics coming quickly as backup.”
“Palmira?” Sophia asked next.
“Suzanna is looking her over…what happened to her chip?” Colette answered and asked.
“I don’t know…” the Greek answered in then winced in pain. Colette and Pete crouched over her, holding her hands, letting her know they were there. “Eliot?”
“Got him! He’s not going anywhere,” Jelena answered, poking her head into the open window over Sophia’s head. A muffled groan followed as the Croatian kicked her prisoner. Jelena had crossed over to the balcony from the neighboring loft. Eliot had been cornered; he just didn’t know it. Colette tried to warn Sophia to just let him go as she knew the other agent would catch him.
“Good,” Sophia simply replied. “Now help me up. I don’t want to be sitting here like I’m shot or something when the medics come.”
Interpol Australia HQ
Capturing Eliot Baker was the result of three days of work and it had cost Sophia Katsopolis three fractured ribs. The Greek agent rested carefully on the leather lounger in their loaned office in the four-story Interpol HQ building. She was dressed like a bum, to her own displeasure. She found that having just three messed up ribs hampered her dressing abilities. She had settled on keeping what she wore the night before to sleep in while she was heavily medicated, numb and happy. In the morning, though, the tight cocktail dress was almost torture to remove. The senior agent was now dressed in a baggy pair of dark plaid pajama pants and an oversized, shapeless, hooded sweatshirt. Her feet were bare as she rested on the lounger; a pair of dark fuzzy slippers sat on the floor next to her. Sophie was comfortable at the moment as she lay on the lounger, trying to not move, with her eyes shut. The only sound she heard was Suzanna sitting at a nearby desk finishing the after-action report that the home office wanted. Colette sat at another desk across the room. The Canadian agent had been in a bad mood since the night before and now had been sitting in front of a computer for the greater part of the day in what Sophia figured was the agent’s way to let off steam. Palmira, Pete and Jelena were interrogating Eliot in a room on the floor below. Sophie was ‘in charge’ of the ITEA office while they did it.
After another few more minutes of just muffled typing, Sophia felt as if she was going to fall asleep when she heard and felt movement next to her as a chair was pulled over next to the lounger. The smell of the strawberry scented shampoo told her who it was, “Are you feeling better, agent Landry?” Sophia asked in a tired but relaxed voice.
“I’m fine, you’re the one with the fractured ribs, how are you?” Colette asked.
“Aside from being dressed atrociously, I’m better than you think,” she replied, opening her eyes and glancing over at the Canadian. The blond was dressed in a red silken spaghetti strapped top over form-fitting blue jeans and red heels. The burgundy cropped leather jacket she wore earlier hung off the back of the chair she was sitting in. “What’s up Colette?” Sophia asked noticing the look of concern on the younger agent’s face.
Colette looked over at Suzanna, who stopped typing and looked back over at her. The Mexican American smiled, “I’ll go get us some coffee,” she then said in her Texas drawl, getting up from the desk.
As Soon as the Texan left, Colette started, “Why wasn’t Palmira wearing her chip?”
“Colette… she told you earlier; it fell off,” Sophia replied, they had gone over the issue last night. Mistakes happen in the field; if anything she felt bad for Palmira. Being the team leader and getting frozen like that because her chip had fallen off somehow at the club was embarrassing and unlucky. The Canadian agent however refused to let the event go. She and Palmira had nearly gotten into a physical confrontation the night before, it would have been worse if Pete had not been there. For a computer expert, Colette was pretty strong as she broke out of Suzanna and Jelena’s hold.
“You’re buying that shit excuse, even after she let you down?!” Colette shot. “Because she took off her own chip you were left without your backup!”
Sophia winced as she sat up, “Keep your voice down, agent Landry. I was fine, you guys were right there. Accidents happen let’s just be grateful that all the pieces were in the right place last night and we got what we were looking for.”
“Accidents? I’ll show you an accident,” Colette said as she reached into her jacket pocket, and pulled out an evidence bag and handed it to Sophia. Before the Greek could ask, Colette replied, “That’s Palmira’s blank chip, I checked the DNA and the prints on it: definitely her chip.”
“You found it?” Sophia asked, confused as she looked at the evidence bag in her hands.
“You could say that; I found this in her hotel room! She didn’t go into that club with it even on her neck!”
“Wait, what? What do you mean, you found it in her room?”
“What do you think I mean? She left it there; she deliberately left her chip behind when you guys inserted last night. I can’t say it any plainer than that.”
“Agent Landry, you had better not be implying that with no probably cause you broke into a senior agent’s room and went through her personal things. Not only is that a chargeable violation of regulations, but it shows a lack of respect and trust of your team leader,” Sophia warned.
“I don’t respect or trust that woman to be in charge of this team! She’s not my team leader either. Her team was ambushed in Brazil during the Paradise Foundation operation and then again during the whole Ashley Tisdale thing. I was on the team then, mind you! Then she almost blew the cover for JB and Cassandra in that Paris operation. Now she’s doing this! I’m sorry. I’m not going to follow that woman; she’s gonna turn us all into mannequins for Onyx!”
“That is enough!” Sophia shot back, standing up and looking down at the younger agent. “She is this team’s lead. You will follow and respect her. She was put there by Lucienne; by not respecting Palmira you are also disrespecting our director. Now are you going to let this go or I’m going to have to write you up? By your own admission, you broke into your superiors’ room,” Sophia said, holding up the evidence bag. Colette stood and met Sophia’s glare with her own. For the first time the older agent felt something in Colette’s eyes that she’d never felt before. It was an odd fear; Colette was definitely more than she let on. Sophia was good at reading people and at the moment, she could feel a scary secret that Colette Landry held behind her blue eyes.
Just then the door opened and Palmira and Jelena entered, talking excitedly. The chatter stopped immediately once they saw the confrontational scene before them. “What’s going on here?” Palmira demanded.
Colette was about to turn around and answer her superior but was stopped by an almost violent jerk of her wrist. She turned back and glared at the Greek. “That’s enough Landry, let it go and go cool off,” Sophia whispered harshly.
“Colette, what’s going on?” Jelena asked, seeing the action as she rushed to her friend’s side.
“Take your friend outside,” Sophia said calmly, still glaring at the Canadian.
Before the younger agent could ask what was going on again, Colette grabbed her jacket and rushed out the room, pushing past Palmira. Jelena quickly followed her friend.
“What the hell is going on here?” Palmira asked, trying to keep her expression normal as she glanced at the evidence bag that Sophia held in her hand, containing her chip.
The Greek grinned ruefully at Palmira, “We need to talk; have a seat.”
Four Hours Later…
Aside from the drama earlier in the day between Colette and Sophia, the day had been really productive. Eliot Baker broke down easily with the threat of Jelena beating him again if he didn’t. It was bluff but the American had not known that. Not only did he break and spill his guts but then agreed to help them get into Onyx. In fact, he informed them that Greenberg expected a delivery of fresh ‘candidates’ from him that night. So with the help of Pete they were able to arrange a staging location a few blocks for the club, a little two-story machine shop. The owners agreed to let them use it in an agreement they would remove the gentlemen’s club from their neighborhood.
The plan was decided that Jelena would be one of the two girls that Eliot would deliver that night. The other one would be Palmira. Both agents would wear activated blank chips that would freeze them as if under the effects of Type-7. Once inside, they would unfreeze and secure Greenberg while the Interpol/ITEA strike team breached the building. Eliot informed them that the room where Greenberg inspected his new ladies did not have any guards assigned, as most guards were posted to the perimeter and upper levels of the building. Seth wanted to create a relaxing environment in his club, so no security operators were allowed in the Onyx itself. This was a plus for Palmira and Jelena as they would be going in unarmed to support their cover as abducted women. Eliot was promised a reduced sentence at a minimum-security prison if everything worked out. He was also threatened by Pete that if he tried to escape he would be shot. The American didn’t know if it was a bluff or not but didn’t want to test it. As far as Eliot was concerned he was done, this was it for him, he knew his luck would run out eventually. Now it was pretty thin, time for him to pay. He had money stashed that he didn’t bother telling the cops that once his shortened jail sentence was up, he was going to be a rich man.
The five-person Interpol team had some extra manpower with four local cops. ITEA was down one person, as Sophia could not bear the pain anymore so she had medicated herself and was back in her hotel room resting. The four cops, dressed in plain clothes over Kevlar vests, were all posted in undercover locations around the club, keeping watch for irregular activities. One Interpol agent watched Onyx from the building’s roof to support the four local cops. The remaining three agents sat in the staging building’s first floor lobby, playing cards with Eliot. They all would converge on the building once the signal was given, all except for the roof guard who would continue to watch for things and get backup if things looked bad. Pete hung out in a back room also on the first floor, making sure things were running smoothly; he would actually be moving in with Eliot making sure the supplier did not turn on them. He would also be unfreezing the undercover ITEA agents as well. His cover would be as the American’s cousin.
At the moment only Suzanna and Palmira occupied the second level of the shop, which consisted of a small living room and bedroom. Suzanna was looking over her gear, making sure she had all of her detox kits ready, as they will be freeing a lot of captured women. According to Eliot he had brought Onyx over thirty women. In a moment she would go down to check on everyone’s dart powered weapons. The four cops out on the street would have live ammo as they would serve as the cover team if things got out of hand. Everyone else would be carrying SIG P226s converted to fire Type-7 darts. Palmira was in the bedroom; Suzanna didn’t know what she was doing, but she was in charge so the Texan didn’t ask. It was quiet though.
Unknown to her charges, Palmira Tiago had taken a small dose of Type-7 to calm her nerves. She had been frozen for the last twenty minutes or so, sitting waxwork-still at the small desk in the room. She blinked and smiled to herself as her senses came back. “A little better…” she whispered to herself, getting up and walking over to the mirror to check her make-up and hair. She was only dressed in a red silk robe and was naked underneath, not having dressed into her clothes for the op yet. Usually she would be a little calmer before an operation like this; especially a well-planned operation like this, it was simple and safe even. But ever since her chat with Sophia that afternoon her nerves had been ramped up. Colette was really upset with what had happened the night before and she was not going to let it go. It was Palmira’s fault really. She should have hidden the chip better. But then again, Colette should not have broken into her room. Palmira sat down on the bed and took a sigh. She had to write the girl up, possibly putting her up on charges. Sophia had suggested that she let it go and just forget about it. The older agent was understanding and did not bring up the fact that she had not put on the chip. In fact Sophia simply told her, everyone forgets once and while. She was sure Sophia knew something was up and was glad that the older agent didn’t dig into it further.
Regardless of what the other senior agent advised, Palmira was planning on reporting Colette to the higher ups, she’d had enough. Colette had been butting heads with her every since the Ashley Tisdale incident. It was time to put the blond in her place. Her respect was at stake as a competent team leader. There was no way she could have Colette spreading rumors about her; that would never go well for her career. Colette and Jelena were out having lunch and were expected back soon. Palmira was trying to figure when to talk to the Canadian, before or after the operation. After debating for a moment she figured after would be best and that she craved another dose of Type-7. She was about to give herself a ten-minute dose when she heard voices in the other room. Colette and Jelena had returned. “Damn…” she whispered. She couldn’t risk Colette coming in and finding her frozen; then shit would really hit the fan. She hid her Type-7 and decided to get herself ready.
“Where’s the boss?” Jelena asked, plopping on the sofa and stretching out. Colette shook her head in disappointment as she walked over to the small fridge for a bottle of water.
“She’s been in the room; I think she’s sleeping or something,” Suzanna replied, looking up from the dart guns she was working on. She then picked up a little plastic container used to carry memory cards and tossed it to Jelena.
The Croatian caught it with one hand and looked at it; “Cool it begins,” she said with grin, opening the case and removing the small blank Type-7 chip from it. “See if the boss is ready, would you Colette?” Jelena asked as she cleared her hair from the back of neck to place the chip.
“Don’t call her that…” Colette grumbled, heading over to the bedroom door. She was about to burst in, but thought better of it and knocked.
“Enter,” Palmira’s muffled voice sounded from behind the door.
Colette opened the door and entered, closing the door behind her. “Jelena just put her chip on; she wanted to know if you’re ready,” the Canadian asked flatly as she looked her boss over suspiciously. Palmira was dressed in a pair of thigh-hugging jeans tucked into shiny black leather knee high, high-heeled boots. A strapless green top that showed off her cleavage and shoulders completed the outfit.
“I’m almost ready,” Palmira answered simply, not looking at the other woman as she adjusted her top.
“Do you have your chip on?” Colette then asked. Palmira looked up at her with a glare. Colette glared right back. “Do you?” She asked again, a little forcefully this time with her hands on her hips.
“I don’t have to answer to you Agent Landry,” she replied as she walked over to the dresser to slip a ring on her finger. The ring had small dose of Type-7 in it, something she had picked up in Paris. That dose was only enough to freeze her for two or three minutes, enough to cool her nerves and take some edge off of her cravings. She was going to need it after this conversation. “Agent Landry, I would suggest you watch your tone with me; you’re already in enough trouble as it is.”
“What? Watch my tone? You’re about to go undercover with my friend I want to make sure you don’t screw up again like last night because this time we might not be so lucky,” the blond pointed out stepping up to stand right behind Palmira. “I’m in enough trouble? If something happens to Jelena on this operation because you, I can’t even describe the kind of trouble you’ll be in.”
Palmira spun around, “Are you threatening me? I know you broke into my hotel room…”
“Is that all you got I against me? I broke into your room? You deliberately removed a safety protocol of an active operation and in the process you left your partner without back up and she was hurt in the process… in fact she’s not here now; we’re going in a person short because of you! You’re incompetent as a lead agent!” Colette caught the movement as it started but even then was not expecting it as Palmira’s hand moved quickly from her side. In an instant she felt a pinprick jab at her neck just as she was backing away from the other woman. The jab was the last thing she felt as her senses faded.
The blond woman was leaning back when Palmira hit her with her Type-7 ring and held her awkward pose as the drug took effect. Her hands were held up in alarm and her face held a look of surprise mixed with anger. Palmira looked at the now frozen blond, letting it sink in what she had just done; she was angry but Colette was turning into a true pain. “I like you like this way better…” she said to the unhearing Canadian agent, looking at her empty but angry eyes. Leaving Colette frozen where she was, Palmira moved over to the door. Opening it a crack, she peered out in the other room to see Jelena gathering up her clothing for the op from her suitcase, Suzanna was nowhere to be seen. She figured the tall Mexican-American was downstairs briefing the Interpol agents. Closing door with a sigh of relief that no one had heard her and Colette arguing, Palmira turned her attention back to Colette, thinking what do. Things wouldn’t sit very well with Jelena if Palmira told her what had actually happened and she didn’t need the Croatian hating her too.
Getting an idea, she moved over to the dresser and picked up her chip. Walking the short distance to Colette she stood the stiffened blond up straight and moved her tresses out of the way revealing the nape of her neck. Palmira then simply pressed the chip against the suspended woman’s neck, feeling it stick in place. “I guess you’re going to be watching your friend’s back, but first let’s get you into something more enticing…” Palmira said as she began to remove the red leather jacket from Colette’s stiff shoulders.
“You really out done yourself this time, Eliot,” Seth Greenberg said appraisingly as his supplier wheeled in his latest catches on dollies. They were in the club’s back room, which was connected to an aboveground loading dock that was actually shared with the shoe store next door via a secret heavy lift elevator. Seth was dressed to please as usual, wearing a tailored dark purple almost-blue suit with a pink white-collared dress shirt. Greenberg, standing in awe of the two women failed to notice the companion that Eliot had brought in with him who wheeled the second of the two women.
Seth looked at the blond who Eliot had wheeled himself. She was a luscious sight, dressed in leather booty shorts that were so form-fitting a slight camel toe was visible. Her generous breasts were masked in a black midriff-baring tube top and she stood tall on a pair of knee high black leather high-heel boots. The blond was posed with her right hand on her hip, her fingers curled downwards while her left arm appeared to almost be doing a spout for a teapot, her fingers curled upwards. "This one got a name?" asked Seth, then waving Eliot off. "Forget it, I'm going to call her 'Molina' to suit her sultry little body."
Next was the brunette, who was wearing an extremely tight spaghetti strapped top, which also showed midriff and was see-through, revealing a matching wraparound bra underneath that wasn't transparent. A denim mini-skirt with frills at the hem was wrapped around the brunette's waist; it was incredibly short, barely covering her groin area, plus she was wearing fishnet stockings and black high-heeled shoes. The second woman, who was wheeled in by a man Seth didn't know or particularly care about, was posed as if holding a soccer-sized ball up in front of her neck but wasn't actually grasping anything; her fingers were spread and slightly curled. "She's got a European vibe to her," noted Seth, silencing Eliot as he was about to speak again. "I'll just call her Tanya, I think that suits her." Seth then noticed the second man for first time. "Who's he?" asked Seth, looking at Eliot.
"My cousin; I needed his help to get them both in at once," insisted Eliot, but Seth had forgotten the fact before it had been presented.
"Fine, whatever, you'll get your payment the usual way; now get out," ordered Seth, shooing the two men away. Eliot waved at his companion and the two entered the elevator, leaving Seth with the two women after carefully sliding them off of the dollies they were wheeled in on.
"Boy, I am so glad older men still find younger women attractive," laughed Seth, taking a moment to – now alone – feel up the motionless blonde’s breasts. "Yeah, you two will do nicely..." Nodding to himself, Seth tipped Molina sideways and lifted her under his arm, her spout arm facing the floor while his right arm was in between hers and her body. Whistling an old song to himself, Seth carried Molina into the next part of the back room where he kept all the new additions, placing her in between a dark woman from Trinidad who was dressed in a blue-flowered bikini and a smoking-hot redhead with a mole on her chin who was wearing a revealing French maid outfit.
"Don't think I've forgotten about you!" called Seth, returning to collect Tanya. The brunette Seth instead lifted up over his shoulders like a pole, letting her long hair drape down behind him with his left arm wrapped around her thighs. Once again Seth caught himself whistling as he tried to find a new place for Tanya, but instead elected to put her down not far from Molina but not in with any of the other girls.
"You in particular are really something," muttered Seth, running his fingers down Tanya's shapely mannequin-like body. Feeling himself become aroused, Seth glanced around quickly before leaning in and kissing his newest prize full on the lips. Before long Seth had moved in between the woman's hands and was pushing her against the wall, his crotch touching hers. Seth was considering just going all the way but it was then that his groin suddenly felt pain.
"That's enough," a hushed voice whispered as Seth struggled to breathe, his groin feeling crushed. Seth managed to see through squinting eyes that Tanya was, in fact, moving, and had promptly pushed him backwards.
"What the hell?" gasped Seth as he sat up. "Whatever, time for your medicine bitch." Reaching into his jacket holster, Seth pulled out his gun, a prized silver-plated Noi Industries Stinger he'd loaded with darts that contained Type-7. Seth was planning to fire but more pain flared as a heeled boot struck his hand, knocking the weapon away. "Crap!" exclaimed Seth, seeing that Molina was moving too. Leaping to his feet, Seth now tried to run.
* * *
"He's getting away," observed Colette, biding her anger for the moment so she could help Jelena.
"I doubt it," laughed Jelena, having already picked up Seth's custom pistol. With a soft squeeze of the trigger Seth, who'd been about to burst through the door and into the actual club, was hit twice in the back in spite of having a few other women between him and Jelena. Seth's arms were spread wide as he froze; he looked about ready to flop over.
"Nice shooting, as usual," complimented Colette as Pete suddenly came running into the room, carrying a gun of his own with Eliot slowly following behind. Moments later the door to the room was pushed open from the other side and Seth was knocked to the ground like a bowling pin, even knocking over a couple of stored women in the process. Palmira and Suzanna had both arrived, bearing pistols of their own with the rest of the Pete’s Interpol team hot on their heels.
"I think we got him," announced Jelena, chuckling a bit in spite of the abuse she'd just suffered at Seth's hands, most likely just relishing the revenge. Suzanna was digging out some counter-agent shots for the women in the storage room while Colette just looked at Palmira while she dug out a pair of heavy duty plastic flex cuffs. Colette was still not happy to find herself ‘volunteered’ to become one of the mannequins on the mission, and dressed by Palmira no less. If Palmira thought it would end here, she was wrong. Palmira, for her part, just smiled and nodded at Colette, keeping her thoughts hidden from the Canadian.
Less than a day had passed since team Alpha returned from their successful Australian mission. Seth Greenberg was behind bars as well as Eliot Baker. The latter living up to his promise for cooperation was serving a light one-year sentence in a low security prison. Greenberg would not be as lucky; for his crimes, he would be going to a real prison and doing at least twenty years. All of the captured women were recovered and now safe. Interpol Australia was working on Onyx’s client list to mete out some sort of punishment to those involved, most likely a form of hefty fine that would go towards the victims.
Palmira Tiago sat behind her desk in her spacious office within ITEA’s espionage wing. She was working on the last bit of the after-action report to turn into Lucienne. The Brazilian smiled as she worked on the report, knowing that Lucienne had awarded her with her own team following her success with this mission. Officially, next week Palmira was going to be placed in charge of a newly formed team. It was the first big step towards her rise in the agency. She eyed her Type-7 ring as she typed the report, thinking that once she was done handing it in she was going to celebrate in her own private way.
A knock at the door took her attention away from her flat screen. Standing in the doorway was Colette Landry, dressed sharply in a black pencil skirt and short sleeved white blouse. Her legs were clad in dark pantyhose while she stood on a pair of simple black high heels. The Canadian’s blond hair was tied into a ponytail. Palmira noted that the younger women held a file in her hand. “Agent Landry,” she said flatly by way of greeting.
“May I come in, Palmira?” Colette asked politely in a serious tone of voice.
“Please,” Palmira answered, leaning away from her keyboard and gesturing Colette to one of the free chairs in front of her desk. “I’m just finishing up the after-action report of our little mission, but I have some time.”
Colette took one of the seats, “Don’t worry, this won’t take long.”
“You will be happy to know that I have taken up Sophia’s recommendation and will not report you to Lucienne… I think we should put that matter behind us,” Palmira said.
“You may think that, but you drugged me and then chipped me. Not to mention you undressed me as well. That I cannot let go,” Colette said accusingly as she slid over the file to the older woman. “I have compiled your performance data, analyzing your weaknesses and I must say you have a lot. All in all the data shows how incompetent you have been as an agent and leader. All the evidence is there; just look,” Colette paused and waited for Palmira to look over the information before she continued, “If I show this to Lucienne or even Cassandra, I can guarantee you a lengthy board review and I promise the outcome will not be in your favor. You could say your career is pretty much over at that point. I also have a trail of records showing that you have in your possession a substantial amount of Type-7, far more than most others do for recreational purposes. I don’t have the definitive evidence yet to show that you’re addicted to the stuff, but any idiot reviewing my notes will come to that conclusion; consider what Lucienne or even the Security Council would think? You, Palmira, have a dependency problem with the muscle stiffener. It's probably the reason why you took off your chip before the club, I’ve put that in my notes by the way… you can see it on the page for your latest blunders.”
Palmira’s heart sank as she looked over the notes while Colette explained the facts to her. She had finally been caught, and by the worst possible person too. She gasped in horror as she flipped past the last text-covered page and came upon a series of photographs of her. She was naked in all of them and posed erotically. She looked up at Colette with a dumb-founded look on her face. “How…?” she muttered in near whisper.
“Easy, after the last mission I knew you were going to take some Type-7 to celebrate, I simply got into your room and there you were, standing like a pretty agent doll, all ready to be played with. Really, you’re pretty pathetic, can’t even stay away from the stuff for over eight hours. What would your family and folks back home think when these pictures end up I don’t know… everywhere?” Colette asked, flashing a grin.
“No!” Palmira shot back, standing up from her desk. “Please don’t… don’t show any of this to anyone… I beg of you. You win… just don’t…” Palmira pleaded, her eyes getting a bit moist but not enough to form tears.
Colette stood and looked at Palmira as if she were a wine stain on white carpeting. “I won’t show them to anyone. Yet. I just wanted to you know that I own you. I control your future at this agency; think about that before you shoot yourself up with drugs during missions. Another thing,” Colette said as she leaned forwards and twisted the ring off of Palmira finger with such force that the Brazilian pulled back in pain. “I’ll be taking this and if you drug me ever again, everything in this folio gets delivered, all of it.” Palmira looked at her, horrified. “Oh yes, I can do it, how hard do you think it is to set up files to be sent when a user doesn't stop it within a certain time limit? And that those files could be anywhere on the Internet. Anyways, think about it Agent Tiago, before thinking about assaulting me,” Colette said as she turned to leave, adding, “You can keep the data and photos. I have a lot of copies.”
As soon as the blond left, Palmira fell back down in her chair. Her eyes flooded with wetness as she looked down at the lewd photos before and back to where Colette had been. What was she going to do? She was ruined – or could be ruined at anytime by that impertinent girl. She closed her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. Sniffing the tears away, she opened her desk drawer and eyed the Type-7 injection gun. She needed it now more than ever, to escape into her frozen world of pleasure; without another thought she reached into the drawer.
Palmira Tiago - Jennifer Lopez
Sophia Katsopolis - Sofia Milos
Eliot Baker - Justin Hartley
Peter Colsen - Jeremy Lindsey Taylor
Colette Landry - Laura Vandervoort
Suzanna Ortiz - Eva LaRue
Jelena Hendraille - Brianna Evigan
Seth Greenberg - Rick Hoffman