In Adventure 1, we find our intrepid agent, Sage Tumbleweed, on the trail of the alien infiltrators plotting to exploit Earth's resources. Galactic immigration was getting out of control. Not only that, but using humankind's dimwitted senses against itself, the alien marauders secret agenda included increasing the stupidity level on a global scale. Intending to hasten the devolution of the human species, the intruders scheme to ensure rapid regression throughout every population group. The plot was sinister. Yet, a valiant few fought back against the widespread collusion of established institutions.
From multi-dimensional social media, to gluttonous consumptive exploitation, the regressive slide of humanity began decades before. In the mix of societal dementia, the divisive influence of news pundit narcissism and political psychobabble hastened the devolution of the mainstream populace. Anti-thinking became a prominent part of the degenerative effects in the gradual dumbing down of collective consensus. So far, the degradations continued unabated for years. As Agent Sage knew early on, the carrying capacity of the planet has just about reached its limit.
In short, the human race had not changed very much. For decades, the galactic pirates watched the earth closely both near and far. Noting every aspect of human interactivity, they concluded that humans would not survive another century. To quicken the extinction, the space profiteers decided to intervene by a series of nefarious intrusions. Behind the scenes, they sought to manipulate everything from domestic productivity, wealth acquisition to foreign policy. Most successful, the gluttonous consumer industry produced the best results in satiating the ignorance level of most people.
In collaboration with the treason of the oligarchs, the wealthy minority, the alien trespassers aided the conglomerates associated with what was a serious nemesis. It was called P.I.M.P. That stood for the Psycho-Institutional-Medico-Pharmaceutical industrial complex. A massive global economic network for the intentional control of mind and body of every human being on the planet. From bogus claims of "mind disease", to fake diagnoses, every possible drug contrived to manipulate the public. Nonetheless, brave warriors fought against insurmountable odds on a daily basis.
"Morning ma'am," Agent Sage, angular, fit as usual, wiry and spry as a cat, said with a salute to her commander. Tall, lanky, lithe and agile, the highly trained special operative for the Global Investigative Service (G.I.S.), reported for duty. Her perky breasts pressed against her skintight red flight suit. "It's a good day for a fight," she told her boss. Deep in the underground complex of headquarters, Sage remarked, "Even though, it's a dark cloudy day again, with thunderstorms on the way. We're good to go, ma'am."
"Ominous pretentions," the Commander offered with hint of a British accent. Her vivid blue eyes lit up at the sight of Sage. "You look good, Sage, very good." Her tone contrasted with Sage's southern twang. She brushed back a dark red curl on the side of her sculpted face that seemed chiseled from granite. "You're looking spry and fit, Agent Tumbleweed. Good, we got an early morning tip over at the botanical gardens." She motioned Sage into her office from the stark white Spartan reception area. Once inside the round shaped room, the door slid closed and the room dimmed. "Let's look at the holo-display."
"Roger that," Sage agreed and watched the blue translucent bubble form in the corner of the underground office, which in New Florida is an engineering accomplishment. Inside, the earth rotated clockwise. "I'm concerned about these events." As the light adjusted, so did Sage's multicolored cat suit. Form fitted it was water and bullet proof, and could even absorb the energy from a space blaster. "Not good, ma'am," Sage noted the red glows from different countries where stupidity was spreading. "Getting worse."
"We're on the precipice of the apocalypse," the Commander said sternly. "It's been coming, with climate changes, social infrastructure breakdowns, stupidity, etc. the human species is on its last gasp of existence. Extinction is not far behind in all this."
"Ma'am," Sage started while standing at attention. Her long auburn hair waved in the breeze from the overhead air vent. Dark brown nearly black eyes zeroed in on the U.S. territory of the revolving quadric-dimensional globe. Cute and pixie like, she went on, "Our country shows an increased level of dangerously disturbing stupidity. The virus is lethal." She took a deep breath. "It's spreading from one person to another."
"I know, it's dismal," the Commander responded and placed her crimson haired muscular presence behind her huge glassine console. A massive bodybuilder, the chief sat comfortably behind her commander center. "It's simply horrible." Her translucent aqua armchair auto-fit to her contours while she spoke. "At ease, trooper."
"Thank you, ma'am," Sage sounded off respectfully and went to parade rest. She flexed her gloved hands behind her back, always loosing up for a fight. "Our sci-lab techies tell us the virus must either be injected directly into the blood stream, or spread by body fluids." She gave her boss an admiring gaze. "They're working on the synthesis."
"Presently, there is no cure," the Commander reminded Sage. "People grow stupider by the day, especially the politicians. They are the worst. Second to them, it spreads like wild fire through academia in particular. That green slime is a blood borne pathogen; self-generated mutations cause a person to babble all kinds of bogus conjecture."
"Not only that ma'am, but with the collusion between the invaders," Sage offered reverently, "and P.I.M.P., the breeding experimentations continue."
"Yes, the breeding, it's the hybrid program. So far, we have not been able to prove the conspiracy. But, credible intelligence from comm-central theorizes the invaders want human drones, like sheep and cattle." The commander took in a long breath. Her huge chest rose and fell with each exhale. Sage smiled at the view and admired the massive implants. "Alright then, you need to follow-up on your investigation at the gardens."
"Roger that, ma'am and another tip just came in," Sage said seriously. "Communications center advises a credible lead at the Botox Organic Gardens." Her big round eyes animated her oval facial features. "A reliable tip I think."
"A good tip of something is always good," the commander jested with her. Broad shouldered, brawny and tanned golden brown, the commander strolled strongly to her compu-chef-toast-matic. In seconds, steaming organic coffee appeared. With long fingers, she retrieved the brown recyclable cup. "Coffee, Agent Tumbleweed?"
"No thank you ma'am, I'm anxious to get back on the cases at hand." Sage admired those long fingers that could reach deeply into various things. "And, no doubt about it, chief," Sage said with a smirk. "Good tips are hard to come by."
"You betcha, Sage," the commander said eyeing her agent up and down. "Your suit fits very nicely." The commander eased back to her console. Her skintight black one-piece pantsuit fit like a glove. The soft latex composite stretched tightly over ample pubic mound and accentuated the crease. "Too bad we don't have time for a joust in the gym."
"Yes, ma'am, regretful," Sage said with anxious admiration. "Last time, you won two falls out of three and I had to submit to your dominating expertise."
"It was terrific for both of us," the commander answered with an appreciative tone. "I enjoyed doing you, and you enjoyed getting it. All very pleasurable training, but, and I do emphasize the butt, you get a rematch of course. You are a viable operative in so many ways. Things could go bottoms up for you. And, with the rules of ground fighting practice, winner picks the strap-on." She gave Sage a wink and a nod. "I was lucky in our last bout. Nonetheless, until next time. You're one of my best agents be careful."
"Thank you, ma'am, it's an honor to work under you," Sage replied with a sly grin. "In all humility, I don't mind a good pegging when the game fairly played."
"Anyway, to move on, we've been getting good information from our crime stoppers network, and the skillful efforts of the communications center," the Commander acknowledged. "Okay, get over to Botox and check things out." She hesitated for a moment. "Again, be safe, Agent Tumbleweed. Intel reports suggest recent Alien abductions confirm your earlier suspicion. Experimentations are escalating."
"Roger that, boss, I'm on it," Sage quickly left and headed for the Gardens.
"Agent Tumbleweed," the Commander stopped her. "Be careful, keep in mind that P.I.M.P. controls most of the resources and funding at Botox Gardens."
"Of course, commander," Sage answered respectfully.
With her hydro-jet-car refueled in the underground complex, Sage shot through the exit tunnel like a guided missile. Once outside the launch tube, the delta-winged car-craft transformed. Wingspan unfolded and the sleek red, white and blue aerial vehicle raced into the heavy sky borne traffic flow. With ease, she flew comfortably to her target. As a combat tactical flyer, she could maneuver cleverly in and out of the traffic flow.
