Last Resort Island

Mission Briefing - July Moonflower

Seven, I hope you had a great vacation.

Mine was not so successful, March is a bad time to go.

I lost contact with my three dogs, see?

Needy mutts can't handle being on their own, can you go check on them urgently?

My new address is enclosed.

Do research the neighbours, and be careful.

I suggest plain sight, you'll be sniffed out by those needy mutts anyway.

Not to mention the neighbour's dog. Keen nose, slow wits.

Yours,

Peony

Embers from the burning letter wisp around me before taking off to find a new home. I sigh, throwing down the cigarette I had no intention of smoking and crushing it under the toe of my boot. Agent 3, March Magnolia, has failed to report back from her last excursion. Trying not to assume the worst about a fellow sister from my division I instead do my best to consider any alternatives. The most optimistic guess is capture, in which case this becomes a relatively straightforward rescue operation. That being said, March is no amateur in the field and better yet, infiltration missions are her specialty. I'll need to gather all the intel I can on her target before I depart, lest I succumb to whichever trap or simple slip up Agent 3 uncharacteristically made. Oversight is trained out of us, extensively, but this does not mean every mission is a guaranteed success. We must remind ourselves this truth every time we take on a new assignment. Every agent has their card punched eventually, I just hope I can intervene before March clocks out prematurely.

I kick the gas pedal on my bike and start the engine back up, my briefing having disappeared to the wind. As Agent 7, I've entered this life more recently than March, by nearly a decade even. The ability to show apprehension has long since been removed but I urge myself to heed the caution that was asked of me in Jan's letter. Still, a part of me is glad to have been chosen to back up my senior. It's not as though I want something as trivial as a chance to prove myself, but I do currently feel underutilized in field operations and a flying success here is the perfect opportunity to push for more active work. The flatline thrum of standby had me a handful of days away from pulling hairs.

In a one room apartment I have occupied for no longer than a week, I open up my laptop; a device with more security than most federal infrastructure and unmitigated access to areas of the web that you'd normally get a knock on your door for breaking into. Seeing as I know nothing of March's assignment, as is necessary for the control of information in our agency, I have a long night ahead of me. The address I've been given is naturally gibberish meant to mislead any would-be interceptor, but the actual coordinates I need were hidden in the innocuous lipstick mark left by the former femme fatale turned division head, Agent 1.

Looks to be a private island owned by the wealthiest man you've never heard of. Real money buys anonymity I suppose, it usually always suggests high levels of corruption also. My mission is not to deal with the owner of this lovely little resort, nor is it to try and guess at March's initial objective. That goal is suspended until mine has been fulfilled, which I hope to be a rescue but if not, a confirmation of termination.

Jan suggested infiltration and I can only assume March used the same method, which does not instil confidence. It would seem that stealth is the far riskier option in this case however, there's not nearly as many blind spots as I'd need to even consider it. If I am to sneak onto the island, I must do it with complete legitimacy save for getting my foot in the door. That means no back up, no weapons or tools, no communication. Once I'm placed with the other girls shipped onto that tiny stretch of sand, I'll be in the same position they are. Externally at least, even half naked I am more than equipped for this, planning extraction is the only issue but I already have an idea of how to achieve this. Memorise the face of the guard on my screen here, her ID has all the clearance a girl could ask for.

Finding march is going to be a three stage operation. First I make sure she is not still acting as one of the resort girls, a piece of harmless eye candy biding her time to extract due to some unforeseen hiccup in the original plan. Once that avenue has been exhausted I'll snoop around the mansion, this intel suggests it goes deeper than it appears too. To me that suggests a secret facility of sorts, which could mean anything from drugs and weapons, to trafficking.

My hand moves the mouse to close the window on my laptop and display the dummy desktop as I react to a knock at the apartment door, my shoulders soon relaxing once I recognise the pattern. I wait for five minutes, exactly 300 seconds, before opening the door to my apartment and quickly retrieving the hangar left on the handle. Should an opportunistic thief have swiped it during that 300 second countdown they would have been disappointed to find their loot had melted before they reached whatever hole they had crawled out of.

I carefully unzip the plastic cover and quirk a brow at the swimsuit in my hand. How awfully modest it

isn't

. A gift is a gift, I suppose. Lucky me.

All I can think to add is that I really hope this resort is as warm as it's geographical data would suggest, because I won't find much help retaining heat from such a skimpy garment. Not a mission I'm particularly excited for, especially if the resort staff are the type to take advantage which let's face it, those kind of men always are. They feel as though they share their master's invincibility and at the end of the day, what's a nameless girl in a bikini going to do? Though I could snap their neck before their sleeping sidearm ever left its bedsheets, I can only endure and play the foreign ditz I've been cast as. How delightful it is to be an international spy.

* * *

July Moonflower - Boarding Day

Surprisingly, not that I should find it to be such a shock really, I am not the least dressed girl aboard this sketchy vessel. I make myself invisible within the crowd of accented mumbling, brushing my long blonde locks over one shoulder and securing it with a hairclip. While I would love for this to be some hidden gadget I would later use to aid my infiltration and subsequent extraction, it is in fact an ordinary hairclip. I've never entered a mission in such a mundane loadout, though this should not be an especially dangerous assignment so long as I play my part perfectly. Again my mind wanders to how March could have possibly made a mistake in this regard, but should I start to theorise about leaked intel or other worries, my mind will become clouded and my focus deterred from the task at hand. Agents of the garden know better than to overthink their circumstances while active in the field, thoughts not on direct mission objectives are only permitted between ongoing assignments and even then are sometimes discouraged if they stray too far from the occupation. For example, romance not used to further a goal would be a faux paus. I've had no trouble in that regard, although March has found herself between a great number of men much to January's chagrin.

The sustained body heat of roughly two dozen women and another dozen crewmen spares us from the chill that we would otherwise have experienced out at sea on our way to this supposed luxury resort. Most peculiarly, none of the crewmen aboard are, in fact, men. Even the deckhands and the captain herself are women, which I have never seen in my years of sailing or stowing away. Perhaps we are headed towards the island paradise of the Amazonians? That would be a nice change of pace from the clammy hands of lecherous hired muscle, but women can be equally as vicious when they see themselves as apex predators.

"Okay ladies let's move it, y'all enjoy your stay now." The captain slides open the back of the small cargo vessel and I feel the sun's rays begin to crawl up my legs and rolling up to my midriff. As I follow the other women in their timid shuffle off the boat, the warmth of that overbearing sun threatens to drown us entirely. My eyes flick from corner to corner swiftly to map out this landing area and cross reference it with the island plans I memorised before boarding. The mansion is close by, though I suppose we'll all be led there for some kind of orientation so long as I stay with this group. No need to run off by myself just yet and compromise my cover, I'll just play along and be perfectly invisible.

Right on cue, a suited woman from the mansion comes to collect us as the women around me whisper frantically, likely having much prettier imaginations of the future than what truly lies in wait. It's tantamount to trafficking really, but I'd have a hard time convincing a single one of these 'lucky' peers of mine of such things. I suppose it's only right to let them enjoy the honeymoon phase and hope my efforts here will lead to yet another string of high profile arrests. None of these women would be likely to thank me for the trouble, however, and so I keep quiet and blend into the backdrop with a placid smile. Only a sprinkle of nerves on show to really fit in, though perhaps I've been worrying too much over March's condition... if it helps my performance, I can let the feelings slide this once.

Without making it too obvious and having attraction to fall back on if I'm caught, I assess the woman leading us up the sun-baked steps and try to get a read on her. She's certainly attractive, so my cover is strong, red hair tied in low tail and a tailored fit I recognise to be bulletproof. Are there really no men on this island at all? She certainly fits the profile of Amazonian warrior I had mockingly considered during the journey. In a physical fight her strength would clearly outmatch my own, not that I'm particularly worried about dispatching her if it came to that, even hand to hand. In any case it seems obvious that island security sees nothing to worry about with us new arrivals, having sent only one person to escort us inside. Being lulled into a false sense of security may well have been Agent 3's downfall, however, so I keep my eyes peeled and prepare for the worst.

The first thing that hits me upon entering the manor, rather mundanely, is the relief of the perfectly regulated air conditioning. You'd expect this in all opulent spaces such as this, but then you'd be surprised. I was anticipating an unpleasant stuffiness or a biting chill in my bikini, but thankfully I'm spared both. If I had any complaints it would be the décor, far too white. My heels clack against pearly white tile and we're surrounded by the lack of colour that only seems to accentuate our bright strips of fabric that briefly distract from the sheer amount of skin on show. Perhaps that's why, then.

"If you'll follow me, ladies. Do take care to watch the step." The escort speaks in a low voice, her vocal fry having a husky allure I can't see appealing to most men I've had the displeasure of seducing. For a worldly woman such as myself, I find it a little charming. The woman notices me lost in thought and smirks, causing me to question my professionalism both in my real and cover jobs. Leading the rear, I step inside the room that appears to be reserved for meetings. In this case, orientation, as expected. So far everything is moving along rather predictably. We're sat down at a large, circular table and told that our possessions are being carried to island lodgings as they speak. I packed light, but made sure to bring enough so as to not raise suspicion. There's nothing in there I intend to go back for, there's only one thing I'm looking for here that can't be replaced. Not without years of vetting and training, anyway.

An agent must always be alert and present, no matter how they may appear. These are words I've always taken to heart, so I find myself feeling especially guilty for zoning out during the orientation tape. It's just so tacky, this sleazeball shit is getting so old. Yes, I know my role well, to look pretty and make the men here feel oh so special. And yet, I have not laid eyes on a single man so far during my short stint on the island paradise. Perhaps I'm meant to entertain other women then, it wouldn't be my first time taking on such a task and I've found myself more than capable in the past. Time to actually pay attention and... oh, huh?

A paper cup is placed in front of each seated woman, myself naturally included. Inside is a small capsule with no discernible signs of what it could house. A glass of water is placed beside each cup to accompany it, the husky redhead aided by well mannered house-staff, their presence barely even noticeable. "It's just caffeine, ladies, well mostly." The woman laughs, standing behind me and collecting my hair in her hands as though she sniffed out my apprehension. The hairclip is removed and pocketed, thankfully I'm not enough of an amateur to have worn such obvious tracking beacon... still, it was a gift from March. I shouldn't have worn it at all, I was being sentimental again and... well, I'll have to ask her for a replacement once I've dragged her out of this place.

There's no getting out of this one, is there? I hesitate as my fingers pinch the capsule, wondering if they have somehow figured me out already. If I'm about to swallow cyanide of my own volition, I deserve it for my tardiness in being so easily pegged. With that in mind to bolster resolve, I tilt my head back with the rest of the easy women and swallow the 'caffeine' pill. The bodyguard strokes my hair one last time before letting it slip through her calloused fingers. "You can lower your arm now, honey." She whispers in a hushed tone as though sharing a secret I don't understand, amusement dripping from her moreish voice.

Slowly, my raised arm drops back down to my side and I realise I must have been holding it up for some time from the way it aches. The alarm I feel regarding this confusing revelation is short lived as the chemicals in my body wash away the panic militantly, leaving a blanket of numbness over my entire body. My head is especially dull now, feeling so sluggish and warm. This is not the first time I've been drugged, not even the first time I've had to do it to myself in order to maintain cover, so I've learnt to lean into it as best I can. The other women seem to be enjoying the drug's effects, though none of them shared my predicament with the raised arm. What the hell was that about, anyway? A side effect of my conditioning perhaps? I'll have to ask Jan when I debrief, for now it'll only do harm to dwell.

A few minutes go by before the lot of us are instructed to stand and rather predictably, most of us aren't able to without some difficulty. "Heh, you'll get used to it." Is all the redhead has to offer as she checks her wristwatch and scowls. Busy schedule? After an exaggerated struggle to fit in with my poor sisters, I push away from the table and repress a smirk at the thought that they expect these women to strut in heels with such reduced motor function. Whatever they just gave us is stronger than I had anticipated, I wonder how regularly they intend to dose us. It's no doubt made addictive too, such a sly operation. Best find March before I have to face any serious withdrawals down the line.

"Alright ladies, you're free to roam for now. We'll come have you do a little more training first thing tomorrow morning but really, there's not much to learn." The redhead waves her hand dismissively as she whispers something to one of the members of staff before her boots sound her exit into restricted areas of the manor. Turns out that's the majority of the manor for the eye candy, we're meant to be outdoor creatures after all. Thank god it's so sunny, is all I can think. I step outside while trying to fight the haze in my head, understanding now the docile looks I caught on the rest of the disposables here. It isn't any kind of stimulant, that's for sure, it's made me a lot slower. Not just physically, but my thoughts too. I catch a few placid smiles from the girls escorted in with me, while a few others whisper concerns about their new lives.

I'm too tired to listen in to such trivia back and forth, deciding to go looking for March the moment our leashes are unclipped. If she has been laying low, waiting for extraction while keeping her cover, how many doses has she been subjected to by now? Jan won't approve given her stance on anonymity between garden agents, but I'll hold March through every night of withdrawals if I have to. We've shared a bed before, but that's strictly off the record. I was a starstruck junior and our Agent 3 called me 'cute' one too many times. In an attempt to prove her wrong while unwinding, I only cemented her suspicions. I... I miss her, she has been gone a long time now. I'm grateful to Jan for selecting me for this when we both know she let sentiment sway her decision. I only have to prove that I was the right woman for the job after all, or I'll never be able to live with myself.

My heels glide over paving slabs on autopilot as I get used to that heaviness imposed upon me by something so small and light, deciding I need to take a moment to get my bearings here. I've forgotten to map my journey at all, wandering aimlessly like I really am some garden variety slut here to appease wealthy patrons and the like. Lowering myself onto a deckchair and taking refuge from the sweltering sun under parasol's kind shadow, I throw my head back and sigh out. Sight's a little blurry, but that's a given. Maybe a half hour of unassuming relaxation could do me some good here, it'd certainly help my cover.

Just as I'm about to let the fog swallow me whole, I realise I'm sharing the shade with another deckchair and its docile occupant. The woman lounges out like she belongs here much better than I, her tan only broken by string of a bikini long misplaced. If it were any other naked woman, I would not look twice, but March demands a double take and dominates my attention as always. Quickly sitting up and groaning at the headrush, I look around to ensure I did not just get caught acting suspiciously in my haste. Calming myself with a few deep breaths, I rest on elbows and peer over at the woman curiously. Is this really March? I know that it is, of course, but the transformation is alarming. The usually pale woman has been kissed all over by sun, her body shaved completely smooth like a real international super model, or superspy from tacky movie. Both nipples are studded with hearts, while long fake nails extend from each digit and her usual dark hair is now a provocatively bright blonde. I'm no stranger to the aesthetic, I've played the bubbly broad on occasion without even needing to dye my natural blonde, such a funny stereotype and yet it sticks.

My mouth opens to get her attention but finds itself so dry the words do not come. I'm trying not to stare, realising in an instant that January made an error in judgement assigning me after all. She thinks I just respect and admire March Magnolia as my superior, a role model of sorts that I slept with one time out of expression of those feelings. On the contrary, I've been completely in love with her since the day she looked my way. The rare team assignment we shared were the best days of my life, even if she has a good ten years on me I've never had eyes for anybody else. In this life, how could I? Since she has been on assignment for so long, my bed has felt so damn cold. To find out she had been MIA the whole time, I wasn't sure whether to resent or thank Jan for not telling me.

And now, here she is, lounging back with an empty expression I can only hope is an elaborate act. She wears a sunhat and shades, thick ones that hide half her face, so I hold onto the hope that she has not been staying here out of... choice. Before attempting words, I tap the table between us from which the parasol sprouts, a simple code she's sure to recognise.