Marina and her friends may seem like a bright and comedic bunch, but working under Sloane, they committed some dangerous federal crimes. So most of them have no qualms about murder. Still, it's possible there will be some conflicts within the ranks...
Makes sense. And makes them a lot more threatening as antagonists. Guess that the non-lethal tactics used even by the antagonists can be misleading sometimes when it comes to highlighting their "evilness" (so to speak). I am however awaiting the inevitable conflicts. Chen strikes me as the type of boss who would get rid of her henchwomen once they've outlived their usefulness...
It was indeed a joke. Though, for the sake of the joke I'll also say that in my opinion being a Boomer isn't a matter of age, but a matter of attitude towards the younger generations. Chen truly is the embodiment of evil. Joking aside, I still remember the first stories where I didn't appreciate her much; and now I can't imagine another main antagonist for this series! She's come a long way, hasn't she? She's the perfect villain for this (final?) arc.
Thanks for all the feedback; I hope to have the next chapter posted this week.
I see many of the villains in my stories as not wanting to directly kill innocent victims - if they only need to attack someone for a disguise, they're willing to let the unfortunate uniform donor survive. But they're less mindful when it comes to something like revenge.
Chen is certainly a cruel boss, but the only times I think she'd try to terminate her henchwomen is when she suspects them of betraying her or fears they might. She purposely selected a group of villainous women who share her goals, to make that unlikely. But, of course, not impossible.
Chen was always envisioned as the main antagonist for the series, even as other villains kept popping up. She's cruel and calculating, driven by a thirst for power and a need to attack those who wronged her. I did not envision when I started writing the first volume that her character would be so influential, but hopefully it seems like a natural progression. Definitely couldn't have a final arc without her.
The early rays of sunlight filtered in through the window shades. Bridget yawned and rolled over in bed.
"Come back later," she murmured.
It had been an exhausting few weeks, perhaps the most eventful period Bridget could remember. So many dangerous escapades, so many near-death experiences, so many articles to be written and sent to the paper at the last minute. Bridget was taking it easy this morning... No distractions, just sleeping a little late... She'd get back to writing soon. Mrs. Drake wouldn't mind...
Then her eyes opened as she remembered. "The breakfast!"
Mrs. Drake, her editor, had arranged to take Bridget out for a one-on-one breakfast at a local high-class diner. They had arranged to meet there at 9 AM. A glance at her clock told Bridget it was just after 8:15.
"No, no..." Bridget threw off the covers and sprang out of bed. "No rest for the weary," she sighed, heading for the closet.
Bridget's years on the job as an investigative journalist paid off. After disguising herself so often in other women's clothes, it was easy for her to quickly slip into one of her professional business suits - button-down white shirt, plum jacket and matching knee-length skirt, black tights and shiny black heels.
Bridget stood before the mirror, combing her hair. As she did so, her phone buzzed from the side table.
"Answer, on speaker," she said aloud. The phone immediately obeyed. Bridget smiled; she loved technology.
"Hello?" came a young woman's voice Bridget had heard many times before.
Bridget smiled. "Morning, Felicia. What's up?"
"Not much," Felicia answered. "Bobbi and I are starting out early on today's investigation. Wanna join us?"
"Love to," Bridget remarked, straightening her jacket. "But I've got a meeting with the boss today."
"Oh, right."
"Is that Bridget?" Bobbi's voice sounded over the phone. "Tell her hi from me."
"Eyes on the road, Bobbi," Felicia replied. "Keep watch, I think our exit is coming up."
"You girls be careful, okay?" Bridget was tying her hair in a professional bun.
Felicia laughed. "Okay, 'mom'. Talk to you soon."
"Bye, girls. Good luck."
Bridget hung up and slipped her phone in her jacket. She still worried about Felicia and Bobbi, even though she acknowledged how much they had grown in the last few months.
She gave herself one final look in the mirror, then grabbed her handbag and headed for the door.
Once outside, Bridget got into her car and revved up the engine. A glance at her watch told her she was making good time.
Smiling to herself, Bridget drove out of her apartment lot and headed on her way.
As she turned the corner, she passed a small grey Buick idling at the side of the road.
The driver, a woman with light skin, red hair, and sunglasses, was munching on a peppermint stick. She smiled as she spotted Bidget's car pass and spoke into a small radio. "Baxter's on the move."
"Good," the voice at the other end responded. "Don't lose sight of her."
"I won't." Eleanor turned off the radio and shifted her van into gear. She began to follow Bridget's car at a distance.
******************
Bobbi found a secluded spot to park inside a rocky alcove. This would afford their car some shade and keep it from being spotted by any prying eyes.
Keeping behind the trees, she and Felicia made their way toward the white two-story research facility, situated in an uninhabited field near Lake Okeechobee. The location had been chosen both for privacy and for testing purposes - it was better to try out heavy scientific equipment when there was no one around.
But despite the deserted area, Felicia had found it, thanks to the coordinates she had translated from some of the strange cave markings she had come across - markings she still believed were from aliens. Of all the coordinates detailed in the markings, the east end of Okeechobee was the most easily accessible, so she had decided to spend their morning investigating it, and had invited Bobbi to come along.
Bobbi now watched the facility from three hundred yards away, through a pair of binoculars.
"Today's the last day," Felicia piped up.
Bobbi glanced at her. "Last day for what?"
"Remember, we made a bet," Felicia said. "I would go two weeks without mugging another woman for her clothes. That was thirteen days ago. I just need to keep it up till tonight."
"Right, right," Bobbi nodded. "I gotta say, I'm impressed you've lasted this long."
"It's a talent," Felicia beamed. "Honestly, it was hard at first, but I've gotten used to it."
"Okay, Ms. Smarty-Pants," Bobbi smiled slyly. "How are you going to keep your bet now? They're not going to just let you inside the building."
Felicia dismissed her concerns. "I always find a way."
She surveyed the facility. "Ah! That looks like a quiet spot." She pointed at a small pipeline opening on the southern side of the facility just above the lake, and just large enough for a slim young woman to fit through.
Bobbi wrinkled her nose. "Isn't that, like, a drainpipe?"
"Yeah, but it's not draining anything right now," Felicia reasoned. "I can squeeze in through there, pretty easily."
Bobbi chuckled in disbelief. "You're really committed to this, aren't you? You sure you don't want to just grab a passing employee? Steal her clothes? Just like old times?"
Felicia shook her head. "Maybe tomorrow... For now, I've got a commitment to keep."
With that, she quietly made her way to the shoreline and, checking that the coast was clear, slipped into the pipeline.
Bobbi shrugged, then turned back to the building itself.
She had been reluctant to join Felicia on her latest quest, having grown tired of her friend's continued quest for alien life. But Bobbi had convinced herself to join, reasoning that the mission would give her another opportunity to mug innocent women for their clothes.
Much as she didn't want to admit it to herself, Bobbi had grown quite fond of the infiltration tactics that Bridget and Felicia had taught her, and was continually looking for new ways to use them. Having been pushed around by others for much of her life, she enjoyed the new levels of confidence that came with knocking out other women, tying them up, and stealing their clothes. It made her feel strong and capable - an entertaining form of personal therapy.
Bobbi crouched down in the bushes as she heard footsteps approach. Peeking through the leaves, she saw the new arrival - a woman in white lab coat, blue blouse, black knee-length skirt, and dark green boots. One of the research officers at the facility, no doubt.
The woman had light skin and blonde hair arranged in a bowl cut. A pair of horn-rimmed glasses dangled from her collar and a clipboard was in her hand. She appeared to be inspecting the surrounding vegetation near the facility, intent on determining the effects the chemicals were having on the local flora.
As the blonde passed one of the thicker bushes, she heard a soft sound - was it a giggle?
Curious, she peered over the bushes. "Is someone th--ooolp!"
She was startled as two hands reached out and grabbed her white coat, pulling her into the underbrush.
Bobbi's giggle was involuntary - she simply got a bit excited when the fun was about to start. Using the sleeper-hold tactic that Bridget had taught her, she covered the woman's mouth and cut off the oxygen to her brain.
The research official "mmmpph"ed and "hhmmmphh"ed for about twenty seconds, but there was nothing she could do. Her reflexes slowed, her eyes slid shut, and she fell unconscious.
"Pleasant dreams, princess," Bobbi whispered as she lowered the sleeping woman to the ground. Then she began the enjoyable process of stripping her victim of her clothes.
Beneath her coat and shirt, the blonde wore a dark green full-cup bra that was doing commendable work. Beneath the skirt was a pair of white satin panties with beautiful pink floral embroidery.
"Good taste, hon," Bobbi chuckled.
She procured some white cords and black tape from her backpack and began restraining the woman. Soon the poor lab woman was tied hand and foot, with a few strips of tape gagging her mouth.
Then Bobbi put on the woman's shirt, skirt, coat, and boots. She stood up and tested their fit.
Her brow furrowed. "No... no, no."
The skirt was alright, but her breasts felt rather constricted under the shirt. And the boots pinched her feet - she could hardly walk in them.
Bobbi sighed. "And this looked like such a good fit when she was wearing it..."
Hearing more footsteps, Bobbi quickly ducked down.
"Dorothy?" a woman's voice called out. "Dorothy, are you out here?"
The newcomer was attired similarly to the blonde woman, although her shirt was orange in color. She had dark skin and black hair that was tied in a braided ponytail.
"Come on, Dorothy, you said you'd help me in the lab today," the woman continued, wandering through the trees. "You're not hiding from me again, are you? I... Hhmmppphhhh!"
She gave a startled but muffled cry as a hand forced its way over her mouth, and she was pulled sharply into the bushes. She had just enough time to register the sight of Dorothy, bound and gagged and lying unconscious in her underwear. Then a neck chop put her out of commission.
Bobbi shrugged as she began stripping the second woman. Perhaps she'll be closer to my size...
******************
Prema tapped her pen against her desk as she stared at the latest round of cost reports on her desk.
She flipped through the pages, trying to scan the words. Mostly, though, they just appeared to her as a blurry mess.
Argh. She buried her face in her hands. It was 9:15 in the morning, and she was already exhausted.
She really was growing bored with her office job at Dennison. And, much as she hated to admit it, she was slowly growing fond of the thrill of adventure.
Maybe someone will kidnap me again, she thought wryly. That definitely hasn't happened enough.
A knock at the door. Prema's secretary stuck her head inside. "Good morning, Ms. Khatri. Got some more reports for you to look over."
Prema groaned and buried her face in her hands.
Nita entered, a sympathetic look on her face. "Ms. Khatri? Is something wrong?"
Prema looked up, brushing a few stray locks of dark hair from her face. "I'm... I'm fine."
"You don't look fine." The redheaded secretary approached the desk. "Can I get you a coffee?"
Prema shook her head. "No thanks... I've just been having a rough couple of days... or weeks. When you get to be my age, maybe you'll feel the same."
"I'm twenty-nine," Nita said, a slight smile on her face. "You're thirty-one. Is that really much of an age difference?"
Prema smiled back, weakly. "For women like us, it's an eternity."
Nita sat down across from her employer. "Come on, Ms. Khatri..."
"Please, call me Prema."
"Come on, Prema," Nita continued, trying to sound upbeat. "Tell me what's wrong. I'm sure I'll understand."
"Have you ever been mugged for your clothes?"
Nita blinked. "...Wh-what?"
"Your clothes," Prema repeated. "Has anyone ever mugged you and stolen your clothes?"
"No..."
"Have you ever been bound and gagged and locked in a closet while in your underwear?"
"No," Nita said, trying to suppress a chuckle.
"Have you ever stolen another woman's clothes to disguise yourself?"
Nita blinked. "Why would I ever do something so ridiculous?"
Prema sighed. "I wish it was as ridiculous as it sounded."
Nita thought. "Wait... I don't work the night shift, but... isn't that what happened to a bunch of our security guards earlier this month?"
Prema sighed. "Look... just forget it. I shouldn't involve you in this. You're obviously having a nice, normal life... It should stay that way."
"But..."
"Just leave the reports on my desk," Prema continued. "Thank you."
Prema's tone indicated the conversation was over, so Nita obeyed and left the office.
After closing the door, Nita sat down at her desk. She felt sorry for her boss, but didn't know what to say.
The phone rang. Nita shrugged and picked it up. "Good morning, Prema Khatri's office."
"Hello," the voice at the other end said. "May i speak with Prema, please?"
"Who should I say is calling?"
"An old friend," the woman replied. "Name's Moira."
Nita hit the call button that connected the rooms. "Got a call for you, boss. Woman named Moira."
there was silence at the other end. Then Prema spoke. "Put her through."
Nita directed the call to Prema's office. But, out of curiosity, she quietly stayed on the line.
"Hey, Prema," Moira was saying. "Have you given any thought to my offer?"
Prema sighed.
"Come on," Moira said playfully. "Investigating an evil corporation. It'll be fun..."
"I just... I have so much paperwork... so many reports... need to schedule a board meeting..."
"You're right... That definitely sounds more fun."
Prema sighed again, and glanced at the large stack of papers on her desk.
"I... I can't. Sorry... Maybe some other time..."
Moira sounded disappointed. "Yeah... maybe..."
She hung up.
Prema groaned and leaned back in her chair. She rubbed her eyes in frustration.
From outside, Nita heard her boss groaning. She didn't know what was going on, but she felt bad. Prema was a good, hard worker. She didn't deserve to be so stressed...
Nita got up and knocked on the door. She poked her head inside.
Prema tried to straighten her jacket, but she had clearly been ruffled. "Yes?"
"I just remembered," Nita said. "Those papers... I can take care of them myself."
Prema blinked. "...Really?"
"Really," Nita nodded. "I'm able to review them, if you're busy with other things." She gave Prema a sympathetic smile.
Prema smiled back. "As a matter of fact... maybe I am."
She stood up and grabbed her coat off the rack. "Remind me to recommend you for a raise tomorrow."
Nita beamed. "Think nothing of it."
*****************
The smell of warm syrup greeted Bridget as she stepped into the diner. It took her only a few moments to spot Mrs. Drake at a corner booth.
"Good morning, Ms. Baxter," the smiling woman said as Bridget sat down. "That's a lovely coat."
"Thanks," Bridget replied. "Bought it earlier this year with the help of my Christmas bonus."
Mrs. Drake laughed. "A bonus well deserved," she said.
"Good morning, ladies," said an approaching voice.
Bridget looked up to see a waitress standing over the table. The woman was tall and slender, with fair skin and rosy cheeks. Her light brown hair was tied in a tangled bun. The waitress wore a white button-down shirt beneath a light red vest, black knee-length skirt and tights, and tan lace-up shoes. A little tag pinned above her right breast was emblazoned with the name "Phoebe."
"Can I take your order?" she asked.
"I'll have the Eggs Benedict on toast," Mrs. Drake said. "Bridget?"
"Er... just a coffee. Cream, one sugar."
The waitress scribbled some notes down on her pad. "Coming right up."
After she walked back towards the kitchen, Mrs. Drake eyed Bridget strangely. "You can order more. I'm paying for everything."
"I know. I'm just... not hungry."
Mrs. Drake smiled. "I don't know how you do it, Bridget."
"Do... what?"
"You're my star reporter... Always turning in top-notch stories. You have such a nose for news. And you keep such a trim figure."
Bridget blushed. "Oh, I just... I just love my job."
"You certainly do," Mrs. Drake continued. "And that's why I've got a special surprise for you."
Bridget perked up. "Surprise?"
"Yes... You've been nominated for our state's Award for Journalistic Excellence!"
Bridget blinked. "What?"
"Your story on the NASA heist - on the plotting and ultimate failure of Dr. Julia Chen - was one of the most riveting pieces of investigative journalism I've ever read," Mrs. Drake beamed. "I was so proud to publish it in the paper... and I felt you deserve some kind of honor. So I submitted your name for consideration."
Bridget was taken aback. "I... I don't know what to say... Thank you! This is amazing..."
Just outside the diner, Eleanor approached with caution.
She could see Bridget through the window, chatting excitedly. And an older woman, politely nodding.
"Gotta get close," Eleanor muttered. "Somehow... some way..."
She watched as a brown-haired waitress approached, holding a steaming mug on a tray.
"Your coffee, ma'am." The waitress set the cup down before Bridget. "Be back with the other order in a few minutes."
Eleanor smiled slyly. Let's see if this place has a back entrance...
Bridget took a sip of her coffee, not minding the hot taste on her lips. "This is... You didn't have to..."
"But I wanted to," Mrs. Drake smiled. "They notified me yesterday of your nomination. The ceremony to announce this year's winners is tonight."
Bridget raised her eyebrows. "My gosh... That's not much time... I need to clean my dress."
"Let me know if you need a good dry cleaners... I can recommend someone who will have it done in a few hours."
Bridget smiled again. "Thank you... so much."
Back in the rear of the diner, Phoebe was heading back into the kitchen. She breathed in the smells and scents of the surrounding area - they always helped brighten her mornings.
"Someone get me some more potatoes?" the chef hollered.
"I'm on it," Phoebe called back. She headed for the walk-in supply room, humming softly to herself.
The supply room was dim in its lighting - a bulb had busted two weeks ago, and the diner was still waiting on repairs. Still, Phoebe had navigated the room many times before, so she had no difficulty maneuvering her way past the shelves to the rear, where the produce was kept.
"Here we are." Phoebe bent down and picked up a large sack of potatoes. Growing up as a farm girl in the Midwest, she had no difficulty handling large weights. The trick was to lift with the shoulders.
Phoebe straightened up again, hefting the bag in her hands. But before she could turn around, she detected a slight change in the breeze behind her.
"Hello?" She turned around - and noticed that the supply room door was now shut.
Phoebe tensed. Were her coworkers playing a joke on her? "Come on, guys, cut it out... I don't like pranks."
She began slowly walking forward. "Knock it off, or I'm telling the bo... Hmmmppphhh?"
She was jerked sharply backwards as an arm wrapped around her waist and a damp cloth was pressed over her mouth.
Phoebe felt warm breath on the back of her neck. "Sorry, dear," a woman's voice whispered, "I'm afraid this isn't a prank."
Phoebe's eyes bulged. She dropped the potato sack and tried to struggle, but her assailant had both the element of surprise and the ability to inhale non-chloroformed air.
"I won't hurt you," the woman said soothingly. "Just a few deep breaths... that's it. Just relax..."
Despite her best efforts, Phoebe was beginning to feel dizzy. The room started to spin around her.
"Mmmmm.... mmmppphhh..." Her eyelids blinked a few times, then fluttered closed.
Eleanor kept the chloroform pad pressed against the waitress' face for a few moments longer. Then she lowered the poor girl to the ground.
"You'll have a bit of a migraine when you wake up... but should otherwise be okay." She checked her watch. "Damn it, I'm behind schedule. Gotta get you out of these clothes quick..."
Like many FBI field agents, Eleanor was trained in the art of subterfuge and disguise, and she understood the occasional need to forcefully procure a set of clothes from an innocent civilian. She often talked to her victims even after they were rendered unconscious - it was a good way to help herself keep her head in the game.
Eleanor removed the girl's shoes, skirt, and vest. She was delighted to see that the uniform shirt was equipped with snap-on buttons; that made removing it easier.
"I wish more businesses were as economizing as this," she chuckled. "Would certainly help speed up the clothes-stealing process."
Once the shirt was off, Eleanor removed the woman's black tights. This left Phoebe in her taupe underwire bra and orchid lace bikini panties.
"Don't worry, honey, I'll make sure you keep your modesty." Eleanor grasped Phoebe under her arms and dragged her over to the large sacks of produce at the back of the room. Then she used cords to bind her into a seated position, knees to her chin, and added a strip of silver tape as a gag.
Finding an empty burlap sack that was just large enough to fit a balled-up adult woman, Eleanor poked a few holes in it for air. She pulled the sack over Phoebe's head and body, completely covering her bound arms and legs. Then she surrounded it with a few other sacks of produce. One of the bags was now a little bulkier than the others, but in the dim lighting, no one would notice the difference.
Eleanor dressed in the waitress uniform and tights, satisfied that they would do the trick. With a quick "Thanks again, honey," she exited the storeroom.
"Order for Table Seven," the chef announced, holding out a tray of Eggs Benedict.
"I've got it," Eleanor said.
Approaching the dining hall, she slipped a pair of clear plastic gloves on her hands. Now came the tricky part.
Bridget and Mrs. Drake were seated at their table, chatting happily as Eleanor approached. Something about an award or other...
Eleanor set down the tray before Mrs. Drake, then picked up Bridget's empty coffee mug. The women nodded politely and thanked her, but did not seem to notice much else.
But Bridget paused as the woman walked away. Was it her imagination... or did this waitress have the same "Phoebe" nametag as the one who had taken their order?
"Working on any new stories?" Mrs. Drake asked.
Bridget smiled at her boss, immediately forgetting about the waitress. "A few... Hope to submit them soon..."
Eleanor exited the diner through the rear entrance, slipping the coffee mug into a Ziploc bag.
"Stage One accomplished," she grinned to herself.
*****************
Felicia's new infiltration tactics were serving her well. The drainpipe led to the facility's basement, where - after cleaning off the dirt from her clothes as best as she could - she picked the lock on a coatroom with a rack of knee-length white lab coats.
Selecting a coat that was her size and buttoning it up, she began to make her way around the facility, nodding politely at other workers who passed.
It's the best of both worlds - I get a disguise, and I don't have to worry about someone lese opening a closet door and finding a bound-and-gagged lady stripped to her underwear inside!
True, mugging women for their clothes was a useful tactic, and at times a fun one, but Felicia was enjoying her new self-limitations. They helped her innovate and find new ways to accomplish her goals.
Reaching one of the labs, Felicia wandered around, noting some of the strange high-tech weaponry on some of the tables - not too different from some of the weapons she had seen when infiltrating the FBI building. Felicia used her concealed camera to take an abundance of photos; she'd compare them with the rest of her collection later.
Two scientists were tinkering over what appeared to be a chrome-plated cross between a sword and a rifle. Felicia tried to sidle up near them to get a closer look... when the sounds from the nearby radio caught her ear.
"...are investigating the prison break that occurred at the Women's Correctional Institution of Tallahassee last night. Three inmates escaped, seemingly in one of the prison's transport vehicles, somewhere around midnight. The escaped women have been identified as Darla Kerrigan, Whitney Shaw..."
Felicia's brow furrowed. Darla and Whitney... Why did those names sound familiar?
"Can we help you?"
Felicia blinked. The two scientists were staring at her inquiringly.
"Er... Just on my way to the bathroom." Felicia grinned politely at them and quickly walked off.
"Bobbi," she whispered into her bracelet communicator. "Are you in? Did you infiltrate successfully?"
No answer. Felicia groaned. Underground, she couldn't get much radio reception.
No matter, though; she was managing her spying work alone.
Twenty minutes later, Felicia exited the facility through a rear door, returning to the spot she had left her friend. Again she spoke into her radio. "Bobbi, I'm outside. Where are you?"
Bobbi poked her head up from the bushes. "Hi."
"Yikes!" Felicia jumped. "What are you doing here? Didn't you try to sneak inside?"
Bobbi looked sheepish. "I was trying..." she admitted. "But I was looking for the right size uniform, and... I got a little carried away..."
"What do you..." Felicia peered over the bushes. "Oh, damn."
Behind the bushes were six women, lying unconscious in their underwear, atop one another in a neat pile. All were bound with white cords and gagged with black tape. The women were an assortment of blondes, brunettes, and redheads, with varying skin colors and bra-and-panty selections. Felicia could see blue plunge bras, green sports bras, violet bikini panties, grey boyshorts. The brown-haired, light-skinned woman at the top of the pile, her pert ass protruding skyward, wore a lacy set of bright red bra and a black G-string; clearly, she had scheduled some romantic plans after work.
Bobbi was kneeling on the grass, a seventh woman lying prone beside her. This one had tan skin and black hair. Bobbi had already removed the woman's green shirt, revealing an orange T-shirt bra beneath, and was midway through the process of unbuckling her black skirt.
"Bobbi, what the hell?" Felicia asked indignantly. "Is this what you've been doing for the past forty-five minutes?"
Bobbi shrugged. "The first one didn't have the right fit... neither did the second... the third one had a stain on her coat... the fourth..."
"Are you kidding me?" Felicia ran her fingers through her hair. "This isn't rocket science. Just knock out one woman. Doesn't matter if her clothes are a little tight or a little loose. You're not Goldilocks!"
Bobbi looked annoyed. "You don't have to take that tone with me. I was just trying to do my job the right way."
Felicia shook her head. "Whatever. I got what I needed. Let's just go."
"Can I at least finish stripping her?" Bobbi looked down at the seventh woman. "I'm already halfway done, and it would be a shame to leave..."
"We are going now." Felicia's tone made it clear that she would brook no further argument.
Bobbi nodded. She stood up and followed an angry Felicia back to their concealed car.
It was a quiet drive back to the city.
*******************
The phone rang in the cramped FBI office. Cramped, that is, because five women were currently waiting inside.
"I'll get it," Bella declared. She reached for the phone.
Nicole slapped her hand away. "You got it last time. My turn."
"Hey!" Bella glared at her. "No need to be rude about it."
Josie groaned. "Agents... once again, you're grown women." She picked up the phone herself. "Time to start acting like it."
She spoke into the phone. "Hello? Ah... hello, Eleanor. How has it been going?"
She listened to the redhead's response, then gave a thumbs-up to her agents.
Bella, Nicole, Rebecca, and Parker all exchanged satisfied glances. Then they waited for their boss to finish the call.
""You're sure?" Josie asked.
"Pretty sure," Eleanor replied. "The fingerprints are a close match to one set we found from those infiltrators... I knew the work would pay off. Her name is Bridget Baxter."
"Excellent work, agent," Josie said. "Now get back here on the double. We have to work out the next phase of our plan."
"Roger that, boss," Eleanor smiled. She hung up.
Josie turned back to the rest of her team. "Bridget Baxter... that name sound familiar to any of you?"
Three of the women shook their heads. But Rebecca piped up. "I think I've seen her name in the paper now and then..."
"Newspapers?" Nicole rolled her eyes. "People still read that stuff?"
Rebecca shrugged. "The online edition, I mean. Anyway, I think she's a journalist or something."
"Interesting," Josie surmised. "Parker, could she have a connection to the redhead who took your gear?"
Parker shrugged. "Maybe... That bimbo didn't stick around long enough to give me her life story."
Josie tapped her chin in thought. "Well, at least we have a lead... May as well follow it."
The FBI agents had been hard at work for several days now, trying less to solve a case than preserve their dignity. The state they had been left in a few days earlier - bound, gagged, and stripped to their underwear by the side of the river - had left them pretty angry, and they were determined to find the women who had stolen their clothes, in order to bring them to justice.
"So what's our next step, boss?" Rebecca asked.
Josie typed a few words into her laptop. She smiled. "Yes, there is a Bridget Baxter working for one of the local papers... Office is uptown." She looked up. "Rebecca, Nicole, you two go investigate... See if you can learn anything more about this woman. We need to know for certain before we can make an arrest."
Rebecca nodded. "We're on it."
Nicole rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure. Partner me with teddy bear girl."
Rebecca shot her a look, but said nothing.
Josie ignored them. "Parker, Bella... stick with me until Eleanor returns. We have some other leads to investigate."
She glanced again at the computer screen. "The FBI has been made fools of too many times these past few weeks... It's time we started pushing back... Showing people how tough and capable we really are."
*******************
The perimeter around the Rucon Steel plant was entirely fenced in, with the fence topped by razor-sharp barbed wire.
It was an obvious deterrence. Still, Moira didn't allow anything to deter her from her work.
The resourceful blonde had biked her way to the rear of the facility, where security was more lax. She approached the fences, staying out of the line of sight of a nearby camera.
Moira had worn her thick jacket that day, even though it wasn't particularly cold and she didn't care for its grey color. Approaching the fence, she tossed it up atop the barbed wire; it would serve as effective protection.
Moira climbed catlike up the fence, dropping silently to the other side. She pulled her jacket in after her, but it tore on the wire.
"Oh well," she muttered, holding the ripped coat in her hands. "I can buy another ten of these if this story pays off."
She was risking her life coming back to Rucon - security chief Linda had threatened to kill her if they ever met again. But Moira did not care to back down. If she had learned one thing from Bridget, it was that a good reporter never gives up.
Moira ducked behind some metal barrels as she heard footsteps. Peeking out, she saw the newcomer - a Rucon factory worker, dressed in long dark blue overalls over a light blue button-up shirt, blue cap, black gloves and brown boots. The woman had tanned skin, hazel eyes, and short dark brown hair. She was carrying a wooden crate over to a large stack of boxes near the fence.
Moira glanced at the security camera mounted on the wall, slowly whirring back and forth. She would need to time it perfectly if she didn't want to be caught on video.
The worker stood up and mopped her forehead just as the camera turned back in the other direction. Moira made her move. She jumped from her hiding spot and grabbed the worker, clapping a hand over the startled woman's mouth.
"Youse best not try any funny business, doll," she said in her best impression of a tough-girl voice, dragging the girl back behind the barrels. It worked - the steelworker was too scared to try and break free. And before she could have second thoughts, the side of Moira's hand had sent her swiftly off to slumber.
"That was easy enough," Moira whispered, laying the unconscious girl in the dirt.
It was the second time in recent memory that Moira was stripping a Rucon worker of her clothes. Thankfully, this woman appeared to be closer to her size than the first. "Talk about improving product quality," she chuckled.
Beneath her uniform, the worker wore a fuchsia demi-cup bra and silver bikini panties. Moira was about to change out of her own clothes when she heard a gasp behind her.
Turning, she froze. Another Rucon worker was staring at her in shock.
"Wh-who are you?" the light-skinned, auburn-haired woman stammered.
Moira grinned sheepishly. "Er... just making sure employees have... regulation underwear?"
The redhead pulled a whistle from her front pocket.
Moira held up a hand. "No, please don't..." If the guards were alerted, she was doomed.
But before the worker could blow the whistle, the sting of a taser hit her back. "Erk!" She froze for a moment, then collapsed to the floor.
Moira looked up to see Prema standing over the unconscious worker, shaken but satisfied.
"You okay?" Prema asked.
Moira breathed a sigh of relief. "You came."
"I did," Prema nodded, tucking her taser into her jacket. "Useful tool, this. Bought it last week, in case I ran into any trouble. Getting kidnapped three times makes a girl cautious."
Moira laughed. "I could kiss you."
Prema scowled in response. "Again, stop flirting with me. I'm not into girls."
"No, I didn't mean..." Moira sighed. "Whatever. Just get that one out of her uniform."
Prema nodded and got to work. By this point, she had grown quite adept at separating unconscious women from their clothes.
Beneath her uniform, the redhead wore a purple bandeau bra and tan boyshorts. One of the more unusual combinations Prema had seen, but she was not one to judge.
Moira tore up her already-torn jacket into usable strips; these she and Prema used to bind and gag the two steelworkers. A couple of empty barrels made useful hiding spots for the unconscious victims.
"Let's get moving," Moira said, adjusting the blue cap on her head. "The less time we spend snooping around here, the better."
She and Prema set off in the direction of the building, walking past the mounted security camera as they did so.
Across the factory grounds, in the main security room, one of the guards looked up in surprise. "That's funny."
Linda walked over. "What's funny?"
The guard pointed. "Those two workers exiting the south corner... I don't think I saw them enter it earlier."
Linda leaned close to the screen, intently eyeing the blonde woman.
Then she scowled.
"Stay here," she ordered, heading out the door. "I'll take care of this."
******************
Bridget returned to her apartment, a spring in her step. Her meeting with Mrs. Drake had gone far better than expected.
Once inside, she made a beeline for her closet. She had one fancy dress, an elegant blue evening gown, which she had not worn since a gala city event the previous fall.
The gown was in fair condition, but it had been collecting lint for several months, and did not look quite as sharp as she remembered it.
Maybe I should just get a new one, she mused. Find a girl my size at tonight's event... conk her on the head... spend the evening in her dress.
But she shook her head. Tonight was about being professional, and the National Journalists' Society would not approve of their members mugging other women at their gala events.
"Guess it's off to the dry cleaners."
At that moment, her apartment door opened. Felicia stormed in, looking rather agitated. She was followed by a rather annoyed-looking Bobbi.
"Hi, girls," Bridget smiled. Then she saw the looks on their faces. "Is... something wrong?"
"I don't know." Felicia glared at Bobbi. "Is there?"
Bridget turned to Bobbi. "What happened?"
Bobbi shrugged. "So I got a bit carried away. What's the big deal?"
"Big deal!" Felicia fumed, and turned to Bridget. "Bobbi and I were supposed to work together today. But she decided to spend the morning on a clothes-stealing spree! I had to do all the work myself."
Bobbi crossed her arms. "I did plenty of work," she huffed. "You're just jealous."
"Jealous?"
"Sure. You haven't stolen any women's clothes in the last two weeks. You're annoyed because you're not having the fun I'm having, and you want to take it out on me."
"It's not about having fun!" Felicia said angrily. "And I'm doing just fine without resorting to the same old tactics. You're the one with the problem!"
"Ladies, ladies!" Bridget interrupted. "Please, no fighting."
She turned to Bobbi. "How many women did you mug for their clothes today?"
Bobbi shrugged. "A few..."
"Seven," Felicia said flatly. "She mugged seven women in the space of an hour."
Bridget looked surprised. "Is that true?"
Bobbi sighed. "Fine. Yes. Seven women. But I swear that was going to be it! The last one was like the perfect size..."
"Bobbi," Bridget said gently, "are you... okay?"
"What does that mean?" Bobbi asked defensively.
"Maybe you should... take a break from these assignments for a while."
Bobbi clenched her fists. "You always take her side."
"What?"
"You always side with Felicia."
"I'm not trying to 'side' with anyone." Bridget replied, a bit irritated. "We're all friends here. If you have a problem, let's talk about..."
"I have no problem!" Bobbi interrupted. "I've finally found something that makes me feel strong, assertive, more than just a nerdy bookworm. I get to express myself in a way I never had before. And now you guys - the ones who brought me into these adventures in the first place - think I'm the one with the problem."
"Bobbi." Bridget's voice was quite stern.
"I'm not the one with the problem," Bobbi continued. "I'm not the one who still believes in aliens!"
Silence.
Bobbi glanced at Felicia. The redhead looked as though she had been punched in the stomach.
Bobbi bit her lip. "Felicia, I... I didn't mean..."
Felicia turned away and quickly walked out of the room.
"Wait..." Bobbi tried to find the words. "Felicia, I... I..."
Bridget looked at her with a mixture of anger and disappointment. "Bobbi, I think you should leave now."
"But..."
"Roberta," Bridget said, more sternly. "Please leave my apartment."
Silence once again. Then Bobbi nodded, slowly.
She turned and headed for the doorway. She walked out the door, briskly closing it behind her.
Bobbi could feel her eyes getting a little misty as she exited the building. But she dried her eyes and steeled herself.
Strong, assertive women didn't cry.
******************
Dr. Chen surveyed her team with confidence and satisfaction.
Her eight recruits were all tall and fit, and all looked plenty intimidating. More importantly, they had all had experience in the fields of disguise and infiltration, two aspects that would be integral to her plan.
"Now," she said with the air of a general addressing her troops, "are there any questions before we head off?"
Whitney raised her hand. "This all seems pretty risky," she said. "What should we do if one of us gets caught?"
Dr. Chen fixed her with an icy stare. "Don't."
Whitney gulped. "Yes, ma'am."
Dr. Chen continued. "Right. Now, you all have your assigned missions that I've provided you. Split into teams - one will be Darla, Whitney, and Haleema. The other will be Cassandra, Lucinda, and Marina. Sonja and Chandra will stick with me. The rest of you know your targets... get moving."
The women nodded and dispersed, leaving Chen behind with Sonja and Chandra.
"Isn't this exciting?" Sonja smiled at her friend.
"It is," Chandra agreed. "But we did get pretty lucky."
"What do you mean?"
"The whole plan centers on that big journalistic event tonight. We're lucky that Bridget was nominated for the award, or she might not even be attending."
Dr. Chen laughed.
Chandra looked at her inquisitively. "What's so funny?"
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Chen explained with a devious grin. "I hacked into the programs of those journalism idiots... made sure that Bridget's name would wind up on the ballot. She's an awful reporter - couldn't win a participation trophy! - so i had to lend my own special touch."
Chandra nodded. "I'm impressed."
"I've been planning my revenge for a while," Dr. Chen continued, "and it will be perfection. Tonight will be the most devastating night of Bridget's life... and the last."
Last edited by tirepanted3 on Tue Feb 09, 2021 4:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
That was a really good opening, watching Bridget going through the hustle and bustle of a morning routine, giving Felicia and Bobbi the whole morning but can't stop routine was a nice touch too, this was a very real and natural scene, great work on capturing it magnificently.
I got to say, I'm impressed Felicia has managed to keep it up this long too, 13 days where an infiltrator hasn't mugged a woman for her clothing, we need to check the Guinness book of world records as Felicia might of just broken it.
Excellent takedown on Dorothy and Bobbi's little excited "giggle" made it funny, which definitely wasn't a bad thing.
Haha , I think Prema forgot that Nita is just an ordinary working lady going about her business and has never been on either side of a USB scenario like our good friend Prema here, although that itch that she just can't scratch, the desire to live a normal life only to find out that it's not that it's cracked up to be, is a brilliant reflection on her character and I think you done really well when you wrote this scene.
You had me at warm syrup with the next scene haha. It was great to take a little trip down memory lane with Bridget and Mrs. Drake about her previous encounter with Chen and the NASA heist, I like it when previous incidents get a call out as it makes you realize that yes, these characters have been all sorts of situations before and they've come out stronger from it. That's one of the many reasons why we love them all for it.
The scene with Eleanor and Phoebe was great and very well put together, plus I quite liked Bridget's observation of the fact that her "new" waitress had the exact same name badge on, she should follow these gut instincts.
I'm still really liking Felicia, she's a fun, light hearted character and every scene she is in is always great light hearted fun, it's really nice.
Good grief, Bobbi certainly has been busy hasn't she, well a good disguise is easy, but a perfect disguise is a truly difficult thing to find.
I enjoyed the scene with Moira, Prema and the two Rucon workers, I must admit there's something really cool about seeing a news reporter going to all these USB lengths to get a descent story.
Really enjoyed the scene afterwards featuring Bridget, Felicia and Bobbi, I liked the interactions between the three women as it felt very much alive and they're responses to one another were very well done, also we really need to keep that record book close by as seven disguises in less than one hour........I'm not certain but it sounds like Bobbi has broken a USB record of her own.
Oh here we go, Dr. Chen has assembled her forces and her plan for revenge is about to set into motion, this all sounds like it's going to be intense and I personally can't wait.
Once again it is an absolute treat when I see you've uploaded the next installment of your stories as I always have a blast watching them and this is no different. I loved what you did with the USB scenes, but I equally enjoyed the amount of work and energy you put into some of the characters overall scenes as I truly believe that even the minor interaction scenes reveal a lot about a characters personality and mind set and maybe eve gives you a thought or two about what might happen down the line. But this is just my take on it.
Thank you once again for another amazing chapter and yes you have left me wanting more and I simply can not wait until the next part.
I'll say that first, but I'm happy to see the main trio again. The little interaction between Bridget, Felicia and Bobbi at the beginning was maybe anecdotal as far as the plot is concerned, but it's great to show their team spirit.
Bobbi's character development is on full display here, and so is Felicia's. While the joke of Bobbi getting carried away was funny, I also love how you use it to bring a serious argument between the two, then follow up with the scene in Bridget's house. Can I say that I was eagerly awaiting the moment where a direct confrontation of opinions would happen? Hopefully, this will continues. Bobbi seems to be heading on a slippery slope (I mean, I enjoy a uniform stealing as much as any other person on the board, but she seems to become a little too obsessed for it to be healthy). And her frienship may end up truly jeopardized... Let's just say that you are raising the stakes.
Honestly, I'm curious to see if a moral questioning similar to the one Carol raised with Adelaide and Toshiko will happen to Bobbi, Bridget and Felicia. I mean, when Carol does it with Adelaide, you know that it won't have any real effect on her; but with people who identify themselves as 'do-gooders', it may lead to interesting interrogations. Or maybe I'm just going too far and htinking too much about it, who knows.
Poor Phoebe. The second she received a description, we all knew that she was doomed!
Now that the introduction is over, I guess this is the time for the different storylines to be set into motion.
As for the uniform stealings, nice takedowns. The little mention of the snap-on buttons of Phoebe's uniform and Eleanor's pondering on the necessities of mugging innocent women were nice details. And so was the use of a burlap sack (and the mention of Eleanor poking a few holes for air). The sack, the classic tool of the kidnapper, and yet they are seldom seen in USB stories.
Trackman: Bridget, Bobbi, and Felicia are still the main focus of the series, so I do my best to give them a "natural" feel. And it's a friendly way to reintroduce them to the story.
I don't think anyone expected Felicia to last this long without stealing any uniforms, but her doing so has helped round out her character. She's grown up a bit since Volume 1, and has learned to appreciate non-USB tactics. (Whether that's a good or bad development is up to the reader. )
I've been trying to work Nita into an extended USB conversation for several volumes now, since she's always been a background character. Carrying on that exchange with Prema was my way of doing that.
The reference to the Chen/NASA story was my way of bringing things "full circle" from Volume 1. I love keeping up with continuity throughout the series.
Moira has also developed somewhat over the last few volumes, she's grown from a jealous Bridget rival into a resourceful journalist of her own. My plan was always to turn her into someone worth rooting for.
The scene between the three main women near the end of the chapter was my favorite to write; I enjoy dramatic tensions and testing the bonds of friendship between the heroes.
As I've said before, the two most important aspects of these stories are character development and compelling USB scenes. It's a tricky balance, but I do my best to maintain it.
Rufusluciusivan: I'm quite happy to be writing for Bridget, Bobbi, and Felicia as well. They are still the heart and soul of the series, even as there have been dozens of other women (good and evil and in-between) introduced in the time since.
The scene where Bobbi goes on her "mugging spree" was indeed meant to be both funny and serious. She's become increasingly obsessed with stealing clothes and flexing her dominance over other women, and Felicia finally calls her out on it. This testing of friendship will be an important component of Volume 5, as you'll see in future chapters. It will not be quite the same as Carolun/Adelaide, although I understand where the comparison is coming from.
Describing Phoebe's uniform was certainly a giveaway that she would not be wearing it for much longer. Eleanor is not a villain, but rather a government agent, so it was worth pointing out that mugging innocent civilians was not necessarily her first choice. The burlap sack was her way of helping keep Phoebe warm and modest, because she's quite a considerate mugger.
the scene with Bobbi stripping many women one after another as " entertaining form of personal therapy" is one of the most potent ever described at this board; and we have to admit, all of us members are suffering the same disease, arent we? the scenario is almost perfect, my compliments to the chef!
Esercito: Yes, I figured you'd enjoy that scene. I promised a bodypile in this story, and I'm glad you liked it.
Been a bit difficult to keep a consistent schedule going, but here's the next chapter:
------------------------------------------------
The editorial offices of The Daily Tribune covered the fourth and fifth floors of a downtown apartment complex. They were relatively uncrowded at this late-morning hour; most of the employees were early lunchers.
Mrs. Drake entered the building in high spirits. She was proud of herself for having submitted Bridget's name for award consideration - and she was prouder still that it had been accepted. Now she would get some work done before preparing for the night's gala event.
She did not pay any attention to any of the vehicles parked outside or near the office building. And why would she? As always, she was a woman focused on her work.
But it may have been useful for her to note a dark green unmarked van that was currently parked across the street from the building.
"So do you think the Baxter woman's in there?" Nicole asked.
Rebecca shook her head. "Most of those journalists rarely work at their desks. Should be especially quiet around now. Good time to investigate."
The two FBI agents had outfitted the inside of the plain-looking van with the latest in state-of-the-art surveillance technology. Monitors, listening devices, a variety of computer equipment - they were prepared for anything.
Nicole stood up, sweeping her long blonde hair to one shoulder. "So, what are we waiting for? Let's get inside and start looking."
"Hold your horses, Nicky."
Nicole frowned. "I hate that name."
"Well, I hate being called Teddy Bear Girl." Rebecca glanced out the tinted window. "Anyway, we can't just wander into the building and start rummaging around Baxter's desk. Not openly, anyhow."
Nicole smiled slyly. "Undercover time?"
"You got it."
Nicole pumped her fist. "Awesome! The best part about being a spy."
She looked out the window. "So what's the plan? Do we lure a couple of building employees in here and steal their passes?"
"I don't think so... Most of the IDs in this part of town come with photos. We need something a little less conspicuous..." Rebecca squinted in the distance.
Parked down the block was a large grey generator truck, the kind used by the city for electrical maintenance. The two electricians had just finished an assignment across the street, and were now reloading their equipment into the back of the vehicle.
The electricians were both women - neither was very tall, but both were athletically fit for their equipment-laden job. They wore dark green coveralls over white T-shirts, low brown boots, and lime-green hard hats. The one carrying a large coil of cables over her shoulder had light skin and shoulder-length dirty blonde hair; her friend, lugging a toolbox, had tan skin and short black hair with a few pink highlights.
Nicole watched the workers. "You think...?"
Her dark-skinned partner smiled. "I do."
The two agents exited their van and nonchalantly approached the generator truck.
The two electricians had climbed into the back of the truck, arranging their gear inside. They did not notice the newcomers quietly approaching.
"Did you bring the chloroform?" Nicole whispered.
Rebecca shook her head. "I thought you brought it."
"It was your turn."
"Damn it, not again..."
Nicole shrugged, and cracked her knuckles. "Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way."
She allowed herself up into the rear of the truck. Rebecca followed behind, shutting the door.
"Apologies, girls," Nicole told the surprised electricians. "But the American government requires the use of your clothing."
The workers were not sure how to respond to that statement - not that they were given much time to do so.
THWOK! KRAK! The well-honed martial arts skills of the two FBI agents quickly rendered the two hapless civilians out of commission.
The button-through coveralls were easily slipped off, and the boots soon unlaced and set beside them. Liberated of their clothes, the two electricians lay peacefully on the metal floor of the truck. The brunette wore a teal balcony bra and salmon-pink traditional briefs. The blonde was left in nothing save a faded grey sports bra and tangerine boyshorts.
Nicole grabbed some black electrical cables from the floor. "We can tie them up with these," she noted. "Then we'll do our presto-change-o bit."
Within minutes, the electricians had been tightly bound at their wrists and ankles. Noting their athletic physique, Rebecca decided to play it safe and add an extra set of bindings to their upper thighs. Some yellow duct tape was used for gagging purposes.
Once the two sleeping women were safely secured, Nicole and Rebecca stripped off their street clothes and helped themselves to their victims' uniforms.
Nicole noticed Rebecca's underwear - plain spartan white bra and panties. She suppressed a smirk. "No bears today?"
Rebecca glared at her. "Knock it off."
"Can't a girl comment on her friend's fashion choices?" Nicole shrugged, a slight smile playing on her lips. Noting the grumbling from Rebecca, she desisted. "Whatever."
Rebecca buttoned up the coveralls and laced up the boots. "Focus. We need to get in that newspaper office and snoop around Baxter's desk. No time for clowning."
Nicole was slipping into her stolen outfit as well. "Hey, I never clown... Well, except that one time... Had to go undercover in a circus... Tons of makeup, plus a rainbow wig and a big red nose. And the performer whose clothes I 'borrowed' was not happy to be stuck behind a tent in her underwear. I used a lot of her colorful ribbons to tie her up..."
Rebecca sighed. "Can we save the flashbacks for later?"
Nicole stood up and straightened the cap on her head. "Yes. All set."
"Then let's move."
The two disguised FBI agents exited the truck and secured the door, before heading off in the direction of the Daily Tribune offices.
*****************
Felicia sat at Bridget's table, slowly sulking.
Bridget entered the room. "Hey."
Felicia nodded, but said nothing.
Bridget sat down beside her friend. "You okay? I don't think Bobbi meant anything personally..."
"I don't know what her problem is," Felicia grumbled. "We've been friends for years, but lately she's just been... harsher. Rude. Like she's working through some anger issues."
"I know, I know." Bridget nodded sympathetically. "Maybe we should just give her some space for a while."
"Hmph."
Bridget looked around, trying to change the subject. "So... I spoke with Mrs. Drake..."
Felicia looked up, curious. "Oh yeah... How'd your meeting go?"
Bridget grinned. "Guess who's been nominated for the state's most prestigious journalism award."
Felicia blinked. "No way."
"Way."
Felicia immediately embraced her friend in a tight hug. "That's amazing! I'm so proud!"
"I was astonished," Bridget admitted, happily returning the hug. "But I guess they really loved my NASA exposé. And I couldn't have gotten it without you."
"Don't be so modest, Bridge. You're a kickass reporter."
"I try my best."
"So when's the ceremony?" Felicia was looking much brighter than she had a minute ago.
"Tonight. Gonna be a huge event - fancy dress, catering, even a stage show. I've got a special invitation, and they let me bring a few guests."
"Amazing." As an aspiring young journalist herself, Felicia had always wanted to attend one of these events. "I have just the dress for the occasion."
"Me too. Although I have to get it to the dry cleaners... I also need to stop by the Journalists Society's headquarters and confirm my ID and attendance..."
"Confirm it?" Felicia asked.
"You know... confirm beforehand that I'm coming, and what I look like. Get a photo ID and stuff, in case someone else tries to pose as me."
Felicia chuckled. "Of course. I hear that women impersonating other women is quite common around here."
Bridget laughed. Then her brow furrowed as she thought through her schedule. "Not sure I'll be able to get to the dry cleaners in time..."
"I'll take care of it," Felicia offered.
"Really? Oh no, you don't need to..."
"I want to," Felicia insisted. "You deserve to look damn good tonight. I'll take your dress in for a quick cleaning, you do whatever else you need to prepare."
Bridget nodded, smiling brightly. "Thanks. You're the best."
"Think I've got some competition there."
Bridget blushed. Then she remembered. "Mrs. Drake had a recommendation for a good, quick dry cleaners. Oh dear, I was so excited about the award, I forgot to ask her what it was."
She reached for a phone. "Let me get the name and address now."
*******************
Moira and Prema cautiously made their way into the steelworks plant. Heavy machinery hissed and clanked all around them.
"Tie your hair back," Moira said.
"What?"
Moira gestured at Prema's long dark hair. "Tie it back. Safety protocol around heavy machinery."
Prema nodded and began securing her hair into a ponytail. "Glad you care about my safety."
"I care about not getting busted," Moira replied tersely. "If someone sees you violating protocols, it could blow our cover."
Then she caught Prema's eye, noticing the woman looked stung.
"Sorry... I didn't mean to sound rude. This is just a dangerous job, and I don't want us to get caught."
Prema nodded. "Okay, okay."
Moira continued to advance through the narrow passageways, reaching an empty area of the facility. "I left some concealed cameras here the last time I infiltrated the facility," she explained. "They were timed to record things over the next few days. Hopefully, no one discovered them..."
She stuck her hand beneath a large metal grille and pulled out a small electronic device. "Perfect."
"How many of those did you plant around the facility?" Prema asked.
"About a half-dozen," Moira said slyly. "Risky move, but I guess the security here was too dumb to find them."
"Oh," a woman's voice said from behind her, "I don't think we're the dumb ones."
Moira gulped. The voice was familiar.
She and Prema turned to see a tall, athletic woman with dark skin and black hair, arms folded and a menacing gleam in her eye.
"Well, well," Linda said slowly. "Look who didn't learn her lesson."
Her gaze shifted from Moira to Prema, a hungry lioness eyeing new prey. "And I see you've brought a friend this time. Too bad for her..."
Prema raised her hands in fear. "Please, I don't want any trouble..."
"Should've considered that before you came here," Linda said, stepping closer.
Moira took a deep breath. "Linda, please... I know you want to arrest me, but at least let my friend go. She..."
"Arrest you?" Linda chuckled, pulling a gun from her belt. Then her voice got serious. "I don't think that will be an option."
"Linda, wait..."
"Shut the hell up," Linda snapped. "I gave you fair warning. I told you never to come back here. You didn't listen. And now I need to deal with you."
Prema was trembling. "No, please..."
"Don't try anything funny," Linda ordered. "We're going to head to the rear of the building, where the sounds will be drowned out by the loud machinery. Start walking."
"Sounds?" Prema was starting to panic. "Of what? Gunshots? Are you going to...?"
"Keep your voice down," Linda growled. "And start walking."
Moira tried to give Prema a reassuring glance, but there was nothing reassuring about their situation.
At gunpoint, and with hands raised, the two women were slowly led towards the rear of the factory.
*******************
In their new electrician uniforms, Nicole and Rebecca had little difficulty getting inside the apartment complex and making their way up to the fifth-floor offices of the Daily Tribune.
Thankfully, the offices were nearly empty, so no one paid much attention to the two women who appeared to be working at Bridget's desk to reconnect her phone lines.
In reality, Nicole and Rebecca were searching for evidence that would allow them to put Bridget behind bars. Thus far, however, they were not having much luck.
"Can't believe how clean this woman keeps her desk," Nicole whispered. "Isn't that a sign in itself that she's guilty?"
"Afraid not," Rebecca responded. She was casually looking inside Bridget's desk drawer, looking for passwords or flash drives or anything of interest. "We need solid proof. Can't risk the FBI looking stupid."
Nicole rolled her eyes. "Wow, yeah... that's never happened before."
Rebecca shot her a look. "If that's another joke about my underwear..."
"It's not!" Nicole said innocently. "I'm just saying, a lot of FBI teams have been made to look dumb in the past. They go out on important missions, and wind up bound and gagged with their clothes stolen. It happened with Lorelei and her girls... twice. And of course, it happened with us."
"I know, I know. That's why we need to..." Rebecca stopped herself as a voice came through an open inner office door. The newspaper's editor, on the phone.
"Hello, Bridget!" Mrs. Drake was saying. "How's my best reporter? Getting ready, I suspect?"
Rebecca caught Nicole's eye and put a finger to her lips. They both listened.
"Ah yes, the dry cleaners. It's Park's on Twelfth Avenue. You know the place?" She listened. "Yes, they should have your dress ready in no time. Good luck... and I'll see you at the ceremony tonight!" She hung up.
Rebecca and Nicole exchanged a glance.
"Ceremony?" Nicole whispered. "What's that about?"
Rebecca thought for a moment. "Sounds like Bridget has a busy night ahead of her... We need to investigate further."
Nicole nodded. "Park's Dry Cleaners... I know the place. Just a few blocks from here."
"Could be a lead. Let's check it out."
***************
"Come now," Delphine rolled her eyes. "You two are being ridiculous."
"We most certainly aren't," Cara shot back.
Marla held up three fingers. "Dead serious," she said.
The three factory workers were at the loading entrance behind Dennison Drilling, carrying large metal crates and stacking them beside a large facility warehouse. As befitting the typical Dennison workers, the women were dressed in green coveralls, brown boots, and grey caps.
"Three times!" Delphine shook her head, letting her black hair whip from side to side. "In the past three weeks! You're pulling my leg."
"I know it sounds insane," Marla continued, brushing a strand of silver-blonde hair from her face. "But Dennison has had a series of break-ins lately. Criminals, mostly female, constantly infiltrating this place. They need factory uniforms in order to slip past security, and somehow... some way... they just keep picking us."
"And that's why we're quitting," the brown-haired Cara finished, walking back towards the waiting crates. "Today is our last day at Dennison. Can't tolerate this kind of workplace anymore."
Delphine chuckled. "This is a hazing ritual, right?" she said. "Some kind of joke you play on the new employees? I only started working here yesterday, after all..."
"Quit while you can," Marla advised. "Trust me, there is nothing less pleasant than being grabbed and knocked over the head, then waking up bound and gagged inside a stuffy crate, dressed in your bra and panties. Right, Cara?"
No answer. Marla looked around. "Cara?" Her eyes narrowed. "That sneak. She must have ducked away and headed for an early lunch."
"Or maybe," Delphine mused with a playful smile, turning towards the warehouse, "she's getting mugged for her clothes for the fourth time."
"It's not a joke," Marla said, walking back towards the crates. "This place is a danger to any woman who prides herself on wearing a uniform. It... oolp!"
"Did you say something?" Delphine turned, just in time to see Marla's boots being dragged behind the crates.
She sighed. "You girls really know how to play a joke to the end, don't you?"
She walked toward the crates. "Fine. Whatever."
Peeking behind, she saw Cara and Marla lying motionless on the ground. Two tall women, dressed in black, were currently in the process of unbuttoning their coveralls.
A third woman, tall and blonde, stepped toward her, grinning. "So sorry, girlie, but..."
"Are you serious?" Delphine groaned. "This is so very immature, girls."
The blonde paused. "What...?"
"But, have it your way." Delphine began unbuttoning her coveralls. "If I had known this place had such a weird initiation ceremony, I would have submitted my resumé to a place like Hobson instead."
The blonde appeared confused. "You're... giving me your uniform?"
"That's how this works, isn't it?" Delphine wriggled out of her clothes, revealing her elasticized blue bra and grey bikini panties. "A little prank played on the new employees. Fine, I'll go along with it. But I didn't expect this place to be so clownish."
Lucinda glanced over at her two accomplices, who simply shrugged. They had by now stripped Cara down to her green sports bra and white pinstripe panties, and Marla down to her orange T-shirt bra and hazel boyshorts.
The blonde turned back to the underwear-clad Delphine, and held up some zip-ties. "Er... hands behind your back?"
Soon after, Delphine, along with the unconscious Cara and Marla, had been relocated to a large crate in the rear of the facility. The three women were stuffed tightly together, zip-tied hand and foot.
"This is really uncomfortable," Delphine muttered. "But I guess you want all the newcomers to experience a little pain."
"Um... sure." Lucinda put a strip of tape over Cara's mouth, then did the same to Marla.
"A gag? Really?" Delphine sighed again. "Honestly, this is ridiculo--mmmmpppphhhh."
She glared at Lucinda, less out of anger than annoyance, as the lid of the crate was replaced over her and her two coworkers.
Lucinda turned back to her two accomplices, who were now dressing themselves in two of the discarded factory uniforms. "That was very weird," she commented.
"The world has no shortage of weirdos," Cassandra agreed. "Now grab that last uniform and get dressed."
"I think I recognized two of those girls," Marina commented. "I may have stolen their uniforms a while ago. It's nice catching up with old acquaintances." She smiled.
Cassandra gave her a strange look, the turned back to Lucinda. "Like I said... no shortage of weirdos."
Lucinda nodded as she began to change into the Dennison uniform. She sighed, looking past their hiding spot. To think... just a few weeks back, I was running this place... Me and Mere... She swallowed.
And now I'm breaking in again... Like I'm stuck in an endless loop... An endless need for revenge, at the expense of everything else...
"Hey, blondie," Cassandra remarked. "Let's get a move on. Chen has us on a tight schedule."
Lucinda nodded, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind. She hurried to dress herself.
"Be nice to her, Cass," Marina said. "Can't you see she's going through some stuff?"
She smiled at Lucinda. "Don't mind Cass... She's all work, no fun."
Lucinda nodded. "I understand."
And I can relate...
********************
"This should be far enough," Linda sneered.
She had led Prema and Moira to the deepest recesses of the factory. Large machinery rumbled around them.
"Linda, please." Moira struggled to keep her voice steady above the loud noises. "You don't have to do this. I can..."
"Enough," Linda interrupted. "I love seeing you beg for your life, but I've got a tight schedule today. Both of you, face the wall, keep your hands behind your head."
Helplessly, the two women obeyed. Prema looked at Moira fearfully. Any bright ideas?
Moira didn't know what to say. This looked like the end.
Then she noticed a small panel on the wall with a red button. It was too far for her to reach, but Prema was closer.
She gave a furtive glance, catching Prema's eye, then looking at the panel, hoping the woman would get the message.
It worked. Prema's eyes flicked to the panel on the wall. She understood.
"Linda," Moira said, trying to draw the security chief's attention. "Before you kill us, I have to know... how did you discover us so quickly?"
Linda laughed. "It wasn't hard," she mused, not noticing as Prema slowly began inching her way towards the panel. "You aren't nearly as competent as you think..."
Prema hit the button with all her might. Immediately, a loud clanking and hissing noise filled the facility as machines began grinding to a halt.
"What...?" Linda looked around in confusion. Then she glared at Prema. "You!"
She raised her gun in anger. Prema shut her eyes.
"No you don't!" Moira dealt a karate chop to Linda's hand, knocking the gun away. The weapon skittered across the floor and beneath one of the large cooling units.
Linda turned her anger and venomous eyes to Moira. "Bitch! I don't need a gun to deal with you."
She grabbed Moira by the collar and shoved her against the wall. "I can simply beat the stuffing out of you until you beg me to kill you."
She raised her fist, intent on making good her promise.
BZZZZT!
Linda blinked, a look of confusion on her face. Then her eyes rolled back and she slumped to the floor.
Moira looked up to see Prema, taser once again in hand.
"This thing's really coming in handy today," Prema remarked.
Moira grabbed Prema and embraced her in a tight hug. "I love you."
"Ouch, not so tight." Prema squirmed out of Moira's grip. "Can we just get out of here?"
"We really should." Moira looked down at Linda's prone body. "Except... this woman is ruthless. She hunted me down before, she can do it again. And she'll probably come after you as well."
Prema felt herself growing fearful again. "What do we do?"
Moira weighed their options. "It's risky, but... I've got an idea."
Fifteen minutes later, Moira and Prema exited the factory building, carrying a large metal barrel between them.
"Parking lot's this way," Moira whispered. "We should be able to get some wheels there."
To the untrained eye, they were only two Rucon workers, transporting a load across the facility. No one had reason to be suspicious.
"You ladies need some help with that?" one of the groundsmen called to them.
Moira shook her head, smiling politely. "We're good, thanks!"
Then, quietly to Prema: "A little faster, we're almost there..."
It seemed like an eternity, but really wasn't more than a few minutes, before the two women reached the parking lot. They located an idle van in a deserted corner of the lot; Moira used a ring of keys she had stolen to unlock the rear doors.
Then she and Prema rolled the barrel and its contents - a bound, gagged, and unconscious Linda - into the back of the van.
Moira peeked inside the barrel to check on their prisoner. Following a strip-search, Linda was now down to her dark blue sports bra and a pair of black briefs with a white skull-and-crossbones logo sewn into the fabric above her left ass cheek. She had been tightly bound with thick white nylon ropes and gagged with a yellow kerchief.
"That should hold her for a while," Moira whispered. "Come on."
She and Prema got into the front of the van. Moira started the engine.
Then she looked over at Prema. "Breathe, honey... it's gonna be all right."
"I'm okay," Prema said, though she really wasn't. "I... I just don't like kidnapping people... Especially since I've been kidnapped myself so often."
"Well, Linda isn't the innocent victim you were," Moira countered. "She's a vicious bitch, and she deserves to rot in jail. Which is where she'll be, once we've got this all figured out. But until we can prove that Rucon is guilty of corporate embezzlement, we need to make sure she stays out of the picture, and off our backs."
"I... I guess," Prema sighed.
"Don't worry," Moira assured her, driving out of the facility. "Everything will be fine... In a few hours, we'll be safely out of trouble."
She had no idea how wrong she was.
****************
Bridget had joined the National Journalists' Society eight years ago, shortly after graduating college. The membership was largely illustrative, a way of keeping connections and socializing with old and new friends.
For this reason, Bridget had never visited the offices of her state's chapter of the Society before. She was a newswoman first, and a socializing gal second. But in preparation for tonight's gala event, she had to drop in and confirm her attendance.
Bridget parked her car across the street from the office building and strode confidently towards it. She wondered if she would meet any of her fellow nominees inside.
Her question was quickly answered. The other nominees for the year's best journalist had already arrived, and were seated in the lobby. Most of them were men - Bridget recognized one as a rival paper's chief sports reporter, another as a popular magazine's restaurant critic.
Bridget smiled politely at them as she walked through the lobby. She didn't understand how some of them had gotten their nominations, but decided not to bring it up.
There was one other female at the corner of the lobby - a tall, light-skinned woman in her late twenties, with medium-length platinum blonde hair and hazel eyes. She wore a lavender business suit and black heels, and was currently looking at some of the headlines framed along the wall.
Bridget recognized the woman as a fashion reporter for a popular style magazine. She had seen the photo next to many bylines - Robyn Cleary.
Bridget approached the woman with a smile and stuck out her hand. "Hi... Robyn, is it? It looks like we're the only two ladies in contention this year."
Robyn eyed Bridget, but did not reciprocate the handshake. "I suppose."
Bridget leaned in to whisper. "Listen... I know a lot of these guys... they're nice people, but not great reporters. I feel like one of us has a chance to win this year."
Robyn rolled her eyes. "Don't get your hopes up. The Society is run by a bunch of pompous men. They'd never let a woman take home their most distinguished award."
Bridget looked a bit surprised. "Well... maybe this year it will be different..."
Robyn chuckled. "Different? Honey, I'm a better reporter than all the men in this room combined... and you probably are as well. I've been nominated three years in a row... and every year, I've lost to some boorish, hacky man who couldn't tell a good story if it bit him on the nose." She flicked a strand of hair out of her face. "You and I, we have to work twice as hard as the men do, and it still isn't enough."
Bridget nodded sympathetically. "Well... this is my first time as a nominee, so I'm hopeful. May the best woman win."
Robyn laughed. "Trust me, I would love to."
Bridget stepped away from Robin and sat down. She felt a bit sorry for this woman, but at the same time, didn't really feel like socializing with her.
****************
Park's Dry Cleaning was a small and unassuming business in a small and unassuming office. Nevertheless, they made good business, and had a reputation for quick and professional service.
The business was owned by the Park sisters, a pair of South Korean twins who were always ready to help out a good customer. Both Sung-mi and Yeo-jin were of medium height and build, with black hair and similar porcelain features. Sung-mi cut her hair short, just above her shoulders, with bangs over her eyes and a white headband; Yeo-jin had long hair which she tied into a tight ponytail, held in place by a purple scrunchie.
Both women wore identical uniforms - a pink double-breasted smock over white short-sleeve polo shirt, pink pleated skirt, and white plimsolls.
Sung-mi had just finished steam-cleaning an evening suit. She hung it up in the large walk-in closet at the rear of the store and returned to the front where her sister was trying to balance their financial books.
"We're making quite a profit this month," Yeo-jin announced in their shared Korean language.
"Wonderful," Sung-mi grinned. "Perhaps it's time I went on vacation... Sunny beaches, cold drinks... Been too long."
Yeo-jin laughed. "You hate the beach. Always complain it's too hot."
Sung-mi shrugged. "I could learn to love it."
Yeo-jin closed the ledger. "You do that. I'm going to take a lunch break."
She stood and headed into the back of the store, where she had stored some kimchi in a small fridge.
A draft of air met her cheeks. She noticed that the side door, leading into the alleyway, was slightly ajar.
"Sung," she said aloud. "I've told you a thousand times... leave the door closed. We don't want any stray animals wandering in and getting their paws on the wardrobe."
"It was closed," her sister's voice retorted. "I was back there a minute ago. The wind must have blown it open."
Yeo-jin shook her head. "You don't need to make excuses, dear sister," she muttered, approaching the door to close it.
A flash of movement in the dim lighting, and suddenly a gloved hand covered her mouth. Another arm encircled her waist.
"Afraid your sister was telling the truth," a woman's voice whispered - in Korean, but with an American accent.
Yeo-jin could feel the woman's breath on the back of her neck. Her heart began to pound. "Mmppphh?"
"Shhh... not a sound, my dear... I promise not to hurt you, but you'll need to keep silent..."
Yeo-jin had no idea how to react as she was dragged into the deep shadows of the large walk-in closet.
Silence, for several long minutes. Finally broken by another call from the front of the store. "Well, did you close it? I'm feeling a draft up here."
Not receiving an answer, Sung-mi sighed and stepped towards the rear of the building. "Gotta do everything myself..."
The side door was indeed still open; Sung-mi shut it. "Yeo-jin? Where are you?"
No answer. Where had her sister gone?
The walk-in closet door was slightly ajar as well; Sung-mi was confident she had closed it. She could just make out someone inside, dressed in a dry cleaning uniform.
"Yeo-jin, are you back here? What are you doing in the dark?" She stepped into the large closet and flicked on the light.
A brief gasp escaped her lips. The woman who stood before her was indeed wearing a dry cleaning uniform, but she was clearly not Yeo-jin. This woman was tall and dark-skinned, currently in the process of buttoning up the pink smock.
On the cold floor behind her was Yeo-jin, out cold. She had been stripped down to her olive T-shirt bra and sky-blue bikini panties. Her long arms and legs had been bound with strips of white towel, and another strip gagged her mouth.
Sung-mi opened her mouth to scream. Before any sound could emanate, though, another hand covered her mouth from behind.
"Your sister will be fine," the second woman whispered. "And so will you... provided you comply."
Sung-mi flailed her arms about desperately, flicking the light switch into an "off" position. The closet was once again plunged into darkness. A moment later, Sung-mi felt a sharp pain at the base of her neck, and her lights were mentally "flicked off" as well.
A few minutes later, the lights in the closet went on again. And now Sung-mi was in a similar predicament as her sister. Unconscious and stripped to her red balcony bra and tan boyshorts, bound and gagged with towels.
Nicole was currently in the process of donning Sung-mi's uniform - shirt, skirt, and smock. She propped her foot up on a chair and began lacing up the plimsolls.
"This is never gonna work," she commented.
"Do you need to rain on my every plan?" Rebecca retorted. "We're the perfect size for these uniforms. No one will suspect a thing."
"This dry cleaners is owned by twin sisters," Nicole said. "You and I... don't exactly look like twins. And neither one of us is Asian."
"So we'll pretend to be substitutes," Rebecca replied stoically. "You've got a better idea?"
"Actually, I..."
"Didn't think so. Come on."
Nicole grumbled something under her breath, but followed Rebecca out of the closet. They shut the door, leaving the Park sisters slumbering in darkness.
******************
Bobbi needed to be alone.
She needed time to clear her head, to get her priorities in order. In short, she needed a walk.
Fortunately, the weather was cool and fresh. She walked along the gravel pedestrian pathway of a local field, allowing the warm sun to shine its rays upon her.
Not that she felt very sunny...
A woman passed her on a bike. Bobbi jumped. She glared at the female cyclist as she sped away.
Moron, Bobbi thought. She deserves a lesson. I oughta chase after her... tie her up, leave her in some bushes... steal her clothes and bike...
Then she stopped herself. "No, no."
She was doing it again. Defaulting to her usual position of anger and vindictiveness. Maybe Felicia was right... maybe there was a line when it came to uniform thievery, and maybe Bobbi had crossed it...
No! Felicia was wrong... wasn't she?
Bobbi needed to speak to someone. But not Felicia or Bridget... She couldn't face them right now. She was still angry with them, at the way they had treated her.
"Maybe..."
Bobbi reached into her handbag, pulling out a small piece of paper. On the back had been scrawled a phone number.
I can't... I shouldn't...
Another cyclist sped by, startling Bobbi once again.
"Hey, watch it!" Bobbi called after her. The cyclist responded by flipping her the bird.
That does it... She's gonna pay... I'll take her clothes, her bike, her...
Bobbi blinked. Damn it.
She stepped to the side of the path, toward the trees, and pulled out her phone. Very slowly, she began to dial.
The phone rang, once, twice. Thrice. Bobbi considered hanging up. She was already regretting this.
A click. A voice on the other end. "Hello?"
Bobbi swallowed. "Hi... Hello, Zuhal."
Silence. Then a soft chuckle. "Hey, Roberta."
Bobbi sighed. "Look, never mind..."
"No, wait, wait!" Zuhal interjected. "Look, don't hang up. I... I'm glad you called. I was hoping you would."
"I just..." Bobbi struggled with the words. "I need someone to talk to."
A short silence. Then Zuhal spoke, a note of sympathy in her voice. "Of course."
She sounded honest, concerned - willing to talk about anything.
Bobbi hated to admit it, but she was feeling better already.
******************
Moira pulled the van up to the rear entrance of Dennison.
"You sure you want to get out now?" she asked. "Fun's not over yet."
"I think I've had enough 'fun' for the week," Prema replied. "This has been a good reminder of why a boring desk job... isn't so bad after all."
Moira shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."
Prema sighed. "Not for a while, I'd hope."
She stepped out of the van and headed for the gate as Moira pulled out and headed back down the road.
Prema stepped back onto the Dennison facility grounds, reacquainting herself with the metallic sounds and oily smells. She had gotten used to it over the years... but it all seemed fresh and new after her narrow escape from death.
Gotta get my life in order, she muttered, stepping into the building. This constant oscillating between work and adventure... it's not healthy.
She reached her office and stepped inside. "Hey, Nita... how's the work going?"
No answer. Her secretary's desk was empty.
Prema looked around. "Nita? Are you her?" It was unlike her secretary to leave the office empty without locking it.
Then a muffled groaning sound caught Prema's ears. It was coming from beneath the desk.
Prema approached the desk with caution and looked underneath it. She gasped. Beneath the desk lay Nita, bound with black nylon cords and gagged with white duct tape. She was dressed in nothing but her ochre triangle bra and tan hipster panties.
Nita looked at her boss with fear in her eyes. "Mmmppphhh!!"
"Honey, who did this to you?" Prema said, voice shaking.
"Guilty as charged," came a voice from overhead.
Prema looked up to see a tan-skinned, dark-haired woman standing over her, grinning smugly. She was dressed in Nita's white shirt, grey vest, black pencil skirt, and shiny black heels.
"We were hiding in your inner office, waiting for you to arrive," the woman explained to a horrified Prema. "I decided to pass the time by trying on your secretary's clothes. And they fit pretty well, considering she's a couple of sizes smaller than me."
Prema looked at the woman with a mixture of fear and confusion. "I... I know you from somewhere..."
"It's a bit of a reunion, isn't it?" came another, even more familiar voice.
Prema turned to see two other women, dressed as Dennison factory workers, emerge from the inner office. She immediately recognized one of them.
"Lucinda!" she breathed.
"Hi, dearie," Lucinda said with a venomous smile. "Didn't think you'd seen the last of me, did you?"
"Please..." Prema began backing towards the corner. "Lucinda, why are you still after me? I'm sorry for whatever pain I've caused you in the past, but... isn't that in the past now? I helped you rescue Meredith from that Stavros woman..."
"Shut up!" Lucinda growled. "Never mention my wife's name. Ever."
Then she regained her composure. "Anyway... don't worry about it. You're not the main target this time."
"But..." Prema glanced at Marina and Cassandra. "These two... they're part of the team that tied you up a few weeks ago. They took us prisoner! And now you're working with them?"
"Your friend has a big mouth, Luce," Cassandra noted.
"She's not my friend." Lucinda grabbed Prema by the arm.
"No, wait! I... uugghhh!" Prema's protests were swiftly cut short by Lucinda's fist.
"That's better," Cassandra smiled. "Now let's secure the bitch and stuff her into a crate. No one will suspect a thing."
"What about the secretary?" Marina inquired.
"Leave her. She's of no concern."
Lucinda retrieved some ropes and began binding the unconscious Prema. History repeating itself, she mused. It was the second time she was kidnapping this woman and taking her prisoner.
Still, this time didn't seem quite as... fun. The previous kidnapping had been done along with Meredith, at a time when they both had really hated Prema. Now, Lucinda felt different. Almost... sorry for the woman she was currently binding and gagging.
Then she remembered Bridget and her heart hardened. This was no time for mercy, no time for silly female emotions. She had work to do... and she would do it, no matter the cost.
******************
Felicia entered the dry cleaning facility, Bridget's dress in hand.
The front desk was empty. Felicia approached and tapped the little bell.
"Hello?" she called out. "Anybody work here?"
A woman in a dry cleaner's uniform emerged from the rear office doorway. Tall and blonde, with a body built like an Olympic swimmer. "Hello, darling. How can I assist you?"
Felicia nodded at her. "I've got a dress that needs cleaning... The sooner, the better."
"But of course," Nicole grinned, taking the dress and hanger. "We will have it ready in no time."
Nicole had - rather wisely - redone her hair and covered it with a pink cap and visor. That lessened the chance of Felicia recognizing her from their previous encounter. The precaution had been Rebecca's idea; Nicole hated to admit it, but perhaps the "teddy bear agent" was smarter than she appeared.
"What time will the dress be available?" Felicia asked. "My friend needs it for a big even tonight."
Nicole's ears perked. "Big event?"
"Yep. She's up for a major journalism award tonight." Felicia couldn't help but smile with pride for her friend. "Bridget Baxter... have you heard of her?"
Nicole hid her own smile as she wrote out a receipt. "Can't say that I have... but the dress should be ready for pickup at three o'clock."
"Perfect." Felicia took the little slip of paper and headed for the door.
Nicole had a smug look on her face as she entered the back office.
Rebecca was waiting. "Who was that? Friend of Baxter's?"
"Yep." Nicole hung the dress up on a rack. "And she gave us some handy info. Are you aware of any journalism awards being given tonight?"
Rebecca made a quick search on her phone. "Hmm... Says here there's a gala event tonight at Chrysalis Hall. Honoring the most impressive journalists of the year."
"I know that place," Nicole said. "Very fancy, one of the top ceremonial halls in the tri-state area. Sounds like that's where Bridget will be tonight."
"Think we should alert the team about this." Rebecca dialed her boss.
Josie answered after three rings. "Rebecca, hello. Perfect timing. Did you discover anything about this Baxter woman?"
"We sure did," Rebecca smiled. She quickly filled Josie in on what they'd learned.
"Interesting." Josie thought. "Chrysalis Hall... that's a nice public venue. Probably lots of people. A perfect place to catch and arrest her."
"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked.
"Presumably her friends will be there as well," Josie explained. "It will be a great place to catch them all at the same time. Besides, with all the cameras there, it will be humiliating for her - and a great boost to the public image of the FBI."
"We certainly could use that," Nicole chimed in.
"Sew a little tracer into the dress you were just handed," Josie advised. "It will be a good way to track Baxter's movements, should the need arise. We'll coordinate further once you're back at the office."
"Copy that." Rebecca hung up.
Josie turned to the other three agents, currently standing in her office. "Hope you girls don't have evening plans. We're going to a party tonight."
Bella clapped her hands. "Amazing! I haven't had a girls' night out in so long..."
"I think she's referring to the mission," Eleanor interrupted.
"Indeed I am," Josie smiled. "It's time for Baxter and her friends to face justice."
*******************
"This is disgusting," Whitney muttered.
"Come now," Darla tried to coax her. "It's not that bad."
The two friends were currently in the process of buttoning up a pair of grey sanitation uniform shirts and pulling on the black pants that accompanied it.
Nearby, Haleema had already done up the uniform, as well as the bright orange-yellow vest. She had begun lacing up the calve-length brown boots.
"Not so bad, is it?" Darla asked her.
Haleema simply grunted in response.
Darla shrugged. "I think she likes it."
Whitney groaned. "Get real, Darl. We spend two weeks in prison, and now that we're finally free, the first thing we do is... disguise ourselves as sanitation workers." She wrinkled her nose. "These uniforms smell gross, and they're ugly besides. Why can't we ever mug some fashion models or something?"
Darla gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I know, this aren't your... favorite choice of wardrobe. But look on the bright side. We broke out of jail. We're reunited with out best girlfriends. And besides," she chuckled, gesturing to the corner of the warehouse, "we're certainly doing better than those three."
"Those three" referred to the original team of garbagewomen who were supposed to work the route today. The three women - a driver and two trash collectors - had just finished their morning route and had returned to a warehouse outside the city dump for a smoking break. However, their plans had been interrupted by three women with plans of their own.
Now the three sanitation workers were seated side-by-side in the corner of the warehouse. All of them had been bound with flex and gagged with electrical tape. The driver, a dark-skinned woman with short black hair in cornrow braids, wore a peach-colored demicup bra and plum boyshorts. One of her fellow workers, a light-skinned brunette with an oval face and thick ponytail, wore a grey push-up bra and matching lace panties. The third worker, an olive-skinned woman with long, apparently dyed light blonde hair, was down to a neon-pink sports bra and some emerald v-kini panties.
"I'll bet those girls hated putting on these uniforms each day as well," Darla surmised. "But they did it every day, because it's part of their job. And we need to wear them today, because it's part of ours."
Whitney simply shook her head as she began lacing up the boots. "I just don't know if it's worth going to all this trouble... just for revenge."
"It'll be worth it." Darla pulled the orange-yellow vest over her shoulders. "Just go with it for now. When we're done, you can mug all the fashion models you want."
Whitney gave a wry smile. "Gee, thanks."
The uniform she now wore smelled like rotten eggs and old banana peels. She thought back to Lucinda's accusing glare from the night before. "You stuffed me in a trash can."
Though she didn't say it out loud, Whitney was having second thoughts about her choice as a career criminal. Her time with the Saboteuses had been brief, and mostly involved sneaking into guarded facilities while wearing unattractive disguises. Whitney enjoyed new clothes as much as anyone, but some of the uniforms she had to steal were downright ugly... and they often still carried the sweat of the women who'd worn them previously.
"You coming, Whit?" Darla asked. She and Haleema were already making their way to the warehouse exit.
Whitney nodded as she strapped on her vest. "Sure, sure."
"Great... Just grab one of those tarps and cover our three friends, will you? Don't want to risk them being discovered."
"Roger that."
Whitney grabbed a blue tarpaulin from the warehouse floor and approached the three captive garbagewomen. They mewled helplessly as she approached.
"Oh, calm down," she said, covering them up. "I don't like this any more than you do."
Once that was done, she hurried to join her two comrades.
Minutes later, the three women entered the local dump. In their disguises as municipal sanitation workers, they were able to walk right in without any fuss.
"I'm gonna puke," Whitey muttered, holding her nose. "Remind me why we're doing this?"
"Dr. Chen needs some spare parts to help build her weapons," Darla reminded her. "And we need to acquire them in the least suspicious way possible. No place less suspicious than a city dump."
"No place more odious either," Whitney whispered. "Let's just get what we need and get back to base."
Haleema did not seem at all affected by the smell. She simply rolled her eyes at Whitney and advanced toward the first junkpile.
Whitney watched and wondered if the strong, silent woman was even capable of feeling discomfort.
********************
Moira pulled the van into the parking lot behind her apartment.
"That was a fun trip," she smiled. "Especially since I took the extra-bumpy road."
She glanced in the rearview mirror at the barrel currently situated in the rear of the van - a barrel which still contained the captive form of Linda. Judging by the groans and struggles emanating from within, the woman had woken up.
"Hope you're not claustrophobic," Moira teased. "But you shouldn't worry. I just need to head up to my apartment and check out the film I got at Rucon... Including, might I add, some nice photos of you trying to shoot me and Prema in the head! Once that's all developed, I'll phone the cops and let them usher you - and Cheryl - to some wide-open jail cells."
She exited the van and skipped toward the apartment building, humming a jaunty tune.
Linda fumbled and fumed inside the barrel. You're dead, you little slut... When I get out of here, you're dead.
But the metal barrel was a tight fit, and Linda could not even work up the necessary leverage needed to bust it open from inside. Linda applied steady pressure with her legs, but it seemed useless. It was also quite hot, with the only cool air wafting through a few small holes that had been punched into the lip of the barrel.
Linda groaned, wondering if she really was trapped. Outsmarted. Humiliated...
No! She refused to give up. She refused to let anyone get the better of her, particularly not a nosy journalist like Moira.
She summoned her strength and pushed against the barrel again. No go.
But wait... What if she tried something else?
Peering through the tiny air holes, she saw the rear doors of the van. They looked cheap, not very sturdy. It was a long shot, but...
Linda began pushing at the side of the barrel. Exerting whatever force she could to make the cylinder wobble back and forth.
Slowly, the barrel began to roll towards the back of the van. Whunk. It hid the rear doors.
Inhaling deeply, Linda rolled herself back again. it was easier this time.
Then she rolled towards the doors again, faster this time. WHUNK. The doors creaked, but stayed shut.
Linda was growing used to the process. She shifted her weight and rolled the barrel back as far along the van as it would go.
Then she shifted the other way and rolled forward. Faster, harder, tougher.
BAM! The van doors burst open, and the barrel - with Linda still inside - rolled out. It rumbled along across the empty parking lot, slowing as it lost momentum.
Linda allowed herself to breath again. She was free - partly, anyway. Now she would just wait for the barrel to roll to a complete stop, and then worry about getting loose.
However, Linda had made one slight miscalculation. The parking lot was on an incline, with an exit leading directly to the sloping street below.
So it was that Linda felt herself rolling along - further, faster. What the hell?
But she could do nothing to stop herself from careening down the hill, growing dizzy as she flew faster and faster along the roadway.
Why me?
******************
Darla, Whitney, and Haleema returned to the hideout right around the same time Cassandra, Marina, and Lucinda did.
"Did you get what you need?" Cassandra asked as they entered.
Darla gestured at Haleema, who was carrying a large bag. "Lots of goodies from the junkyard. One woman's trash is another woman's jackpot."
Marina pointed to a crate she and Lucinda were carrying. "We got our little package as well."
Dr. Chen was waiting in the hideout with Chandra and Sonja.
"Well, girls?" she asked. "I trust the assignments went well?"
"Very well," Darla replied as Haleema set the bag on the table.
Chen turned to Cassandra. "Does the box contain...?"
"Indeed it does." Cassandra pried open the box. Marina and Lucinda emptied its contents on the floor - a bound, gagged, and terrified Prema.
"Special delivery," Marina announced. "Includes free shipping and handling."
Prema looked from side to side, her heart pounding with fear. Around her, all around her, were mean and vicious-looking women. She recognized some of them - criminals she had encountered in the past. Trembling, she tried to curl up into a ball.
"Now, now." Dr. Chen approached and knelt down beside the sobbing woman. "That won't do, Miss Khatri. Big girls don't cry."
Prema looked up, still shaking. Like the others, this woman looked familiar, somehow. Where had she seen her before?
Oh yes... it was Julia Chen. The woman she had encountered when she had first been (literally) roped into one of Bridget's inane adventures. Prema remembered how, during their first encounter, Dr. Chen had grabbed her by the ankles and swung her against a couple of other women, as though she were less a person than a weight to toss around.
"Mmmggghhhh!" Prema's face was mostly fearful, but there was a hint of anger as well.
"Calm down." Dr. Chen hooked a finger over her cloth gag. "I think we can safely remove this... No one else is around for miles."
She pulled the gag down. Prema coughed. "Please... why are you doing this? I'm sick of being kidnapped. I don't want to do this anymore."
Dr. Chen chuckled. "A professional kidnapping victim, are you?" she mused. "Well, sorry, my dear, but you'll need to play that role one more time."
"What do you want from me?" Prema felt the hot tears sting her cheeks. "I never did anything to you! Please..."
"Oh. this isn't about you, dear... not specifically," Dr. Chen explained. "But you see, we're working on a little revenge scheme, and you happen to play a small but vital part. Should anything go wrong with my plan - very unlikely, of course, but still possible - it would be best for me to have you here as insurance."
Prema still didn't understand. "Who... why... what..."
"Inquisitive, isn't she?" Dr. Chen smiled, standing up. "Take her to the back room and keep her safely locked away. We may need her later."
"No, wait, I... uunngghhh!" Prema was silenced by a right hook from Haleema. She slumped to the floor, silent.
As Haleema dragged the woman to the back room of the hideaway, Chen addressed the rest of her crew. "Nearly everything is ready. Tonight, Bridget, Felicia, Bobbi, and Moira will attend the journalism award ceremony. And we'll be there, too." She chuckled. "Uninvited, of course."
Haha, amazing opening and quite funny too, Rebecca and Nicole's chemistry is amazing, I do like the way they mentioned of how the government requires their uniforms. Oh and good call from Rebecca to add an extra layer to the electricians athletic bodies, just to be safe.
P.S like Nicole, I too enjoyed reminiscing about the time she mugged a clown for a disguise, truly good times and one of the rare times, something like that has been done.
I see what you did there, Bridget's subtle mention of all those different professions and uniform all attending the fancy event, a prelude of things to come.
it was nice seeing the interactions between Felicia and Bridget, I really do like Bridget, she's a kind hearted individual, with a great personality and of course she knows her way round a descent disguise or two, which makes her that much special.
Well, that didn't take Linda long to find Prema and Moira, but I guess with payback on the mind, her instincts are naturally more powerful, I mean it is as you said, she was like a lioness eyeing up her prey, looking forward to seeing what happens next.
Hahaha, it's a good thing Nicole has that little jokey jab when Rebecca mentioned about not letting the FBI look stupid, because I too was thinking "Hhhmmm, are you sure about that."
I absolutely LOVED the next scene, I enjoyed the sheer irony of the fact that it was Cara and Marla's last day so they needed to get their uniforms stolen one last time for old times sakes. I also loved the way they were getting slowly picked off one by one so Delphine only saw their boots disappear. The joke she made as well about Cara suddenly dissapearing and how "she's getting mugged for her clothes for the fourth time." Aaahh Delphine, you'll learn very soon what life is like for a simply USB victim.
Plus to top it all, I loved the way Delphine just casually went along with everything, the stripping, the being tied up and doesn't even question it even though her two colleagues are knocked and stripped right in front of her. Even then when she's all bound and gagged in her undies, she's STILL going on as if it's some kind of joke, I must admit I really did like this scene, it was fantastically written and that nice little bit of confusion from Lucinda about what had just happened, made me chuckle at the end. Honestly, fantastic work.
The next scene was fantastic, it was funny watching Prema and Moira just casually carrying out an empty barrel secretly concealing a knocked out, bound and gagged Linda. Brilliant idea and actually quite funny.
Also I liked the look on Linda's face, when in that split second it was she knew she had just been stunned and she was going down again and I see like a lot of people seeking revenge, she ended up falling victim to her own mouth as her constant talking / boasting allowed our ladies to get the jump on her, good grief will these vengeance seekers ever learn.
I do hope Moira and Prema get a happy ending and make it out of this in once piece, it may sound a bit mushy, but I think their a really sweet couple and they always seem to find themselves in bad situations, I just hope that they'll pull through together in the end.
While I do naturally understand Robyn's frustration over loosing, because of the rules that seem to happen behind the scenes in this event, I'm still routing for Bridget to win.
Now that's cheating, you know my love of Korean women, so the next scene is an instant ten out of ten for me hahaha. All joking aside, it really was a great scene and unless I'm mistaken this is an extremely rare thing, seeing a pair of dry cleaners getting replaced. I give you a standing ovation as just when I think you've run out of professions, you immediately think of another, no profession is safe from your USB gaze, nicely done.
Whoe, nice sudden change of pacing and mood there with Bobbi. I was wondering when Bobbi was going make an appearance, her scene felt incredibly natural and I did enjoy watching her go through all these different thought and processes in her mind, it was nice, it added a well needed layer of reality, I've said this time and time again, but I really do like Bobbi, she's a character that's really grown on me as time has gone by and I think you've done n amazing job with her character development......... Oh and for the record, while yeah the first cyclist didn't do anything wrong, that second cyclist was a total cow, so if Bobbi had beaten her up then left her tied up in her undies while she stole her clothes and bike, I honestly wouldn't have blamed her.
Face to face time with Prema, Lucinda and Cassandra, that was a good scene, filled with light tension and great dialogue, nicely written and it was cool to see Nita return.
Ooohhh Felicia, what have you done, revealing that information. ..........
I enjoyed the three sanitization workers underwear, neon pink panties, never get's old. Another enjoyable scene, I enjoyed the little bits of banter from Whitney and Darla about their situation, yeah I understand why she'd rather mug a fashion model for her clothing rather a bin woman, but she should be pleased, this is another rare uniform to steal......Minus the smell of course.
HAHA, alright you made me laugh there at the beginning of the next scene, I just wasn't expecting to hear Moira say she took the extra bumpy road, oh god poor Linda HAHA. .................WOW, it just gets worse and worse for Linda HAHA. Never mind about claustrophobia, I just hope she doesn't puke on her way down the hill. This really was a great scene.
Now THAT'S how you end a chapter, seeing our main antagonist (Julia Chen), swinging around poor Prema, her revenge plan is coming through spectacularly and her crew are getting it all set in motion, it was a great scene as you can really visualize them al circling Prema cackling like a pack of hyena's, that was some truly fantastic writing right there and I loved it.
Well this next chapter of yours was certainly worth the weight, it had everything, you had the light hearted moments, you had the great comedic moments and naturally you had some great and original USB scenes. I think you wrote this chapter perfectly and this was an absolute blast and joy to witness, I loved it from start to finish, to set the scenes up nicely, the captured the essence of all the characters and overall, this was a joyful experience to view.
Thanks, Trackman! I always appreciate your long-form "essays".
Rebecca and Nicole are the latest duo proving to be quite fun to write. i'm trying to give the FBI characters a more assertive role in this volume, so they feel like more than just a series of uniforms waiting for the other characters to steal them.
Also, the story about Nicole and the clown isn't from a previous volume, I just added it as a little character moment, and to establish that - like many of her fellow agents - Nicole has a history of stealing disguises when the need arises.
The interactions between Felicia and Bridget remain key to the series. Their friendship is what kicked off the series, so i try to highlight it every now and then.
Cara and Marla are probably the two unluckiest characters in the series, as they have now been mugged four times for their uniforms. By now, I could no longer come up with enough reasons to explain why they're still working at a factory where they are so often knocked out and left tied up in their underwear, so I decided to add some variety by adding Delphine to the mix. She added some new comedy flavor to the scene; I quite like the idea of a USB victim completely misreading the situation and being annoyed by it.
The use of a barrel to stash Linda was another fun idea (which I've used a few times before); even though she wasn't stripped for disguise purposes, it felt like a fitting punishment for her. Plus, I like the idea of Prema - usually the one being kidnapped - reluctantly partaking in a plan to kidnap someone else.
Moira and Prema have a good rapport, and I enjoy writing them as a pair of secondary heroes to the main trio. They don't have much luck (Prema especially), but it's nice that people keep rooting for them.
I know Korean women seem to be popular on this board, and I felt it would add a touch of realism to the dry cleaner sequence. Indeed, several types of cleaners have been mugged for their uniforms in the past, but this is one of the rare instances where a pair of USBs target a dry cleaning station.
Bobbi's character development remains pivotal to the series. She's going through a lot, but it's important that readers understand where she's coming from and why. The second cyclist was quite rude; perhaps she's related to the motorcycle rider that Bobbi happily mugged back in Volume 1?
Understandable why garbagewomen are not a popular disguise choice for USBs, so I played with that in the dialogue. Whitney is more fashion-minded than her cohorts, and definitely doesn't care for unattractive outfits. Alas, these are the prices that a villain in the series must pay.
Thinks might look bad for Linda, however I assure you it's all "uphill" from here.
Poor Prema... but one of the heroes had to come face-to-face with Chen eventually. So far, Chen's plan is going smoothly... we'll see how that holds.
Glad you liked the chapter. I wish I'd been able to publish sooner, but there was a lot to write and I wanted to get it done here before moving on. Fortunately, most of the pieces are set up by this point, and the next chapter will see the storylines start to converge. There is still plenty of story to tell (and plenty of uniforms to steal).
And makes them a lot more threatening as antagonists. Guess that the non-lethal tactics used even by the antagonists can be misleading sometimes when it comes to highlighting their "evilness" (so to speak). I am however awaiting the inevitable conflicts. Chen strikes me as the type of boss who would get rid of her henchwomen once they've outlived their usefulness...
Joking aside, I still remember the first stories where I didn't appreciate her much; and now I can't imagine another main antagonist for this series! She's come a long way, hasn't she? She's the perfect villain for this (final?) arc.
well a good disguise is easy, but a perfect disguise is a truly difficult thing to find. 
