Well, getting out of bed this morning was clearly a mistake, Cindy Roth lamented inwardly, her struggles against her bonds merely perfunctory now as she silently bemoaned yet another failure. Field agents for the Department of Analysis, Manipulation, Surveillance, Enforcement and Logistics were the best of the best, and anyone seeking to join their ranks had to first pass a rigorous mock infiltration exercise before they’d even be considered for training. DAMSEL analysists like herself were not exempt from such a test, for there were plenty amongst the organization’s ranks eager for greater adventure, and such a scenario helped to identify those with potential and ensuring only the best and most capable took to the field.

And as much as she hated to admit it, Cindy realized she was not one of them. Three times she’d taken the initiation exercise, and three times she’d been left like this, bound and gagged and locked away in a spare office while she waited to be debriefed, left to stew in the misery of her failure. Sturdy metal shackles kept her arms locked behind her back at the wrists and elbows, with a further pair bound her ankles and forced her to remain in a kneeling position. For reasons beyond her, DAMSEL preferred to use ball gags in these scenarios, but it served its purpose well, her discomfort only amplified by the foul taste of the rubber, the ache of her jaw and the sensation of drool leaking from the corners of her wide mouth. A shaped leather blindfold completed her restraints, shrouding her bright blue eyes, and with a groan of dismay, Cindy leaned back against the wall, cursing herself for a fool. Time and again she’d been told that she wasn’t up to snuff as a field agent, and time and again she’d rejected that advice and tried to apply once more, much to the frustration of her supervisors. Sooner or later, their patience would run out, and when it did… well, she could kiss her career in DAMSEL goodbye.

Then came the metallic screech of the office door openly, and Cindy registered the click of stiletto heels upon the floor before a gloved hand lifted her chin. “Do you know what you did wrong?” came a rich feminine voice.

God, it’s Director Cartwright! Cindy realized with a start, her slender body trembling in her standard-issue close-fitting black jumpsuit at the knowledge was the head of DAMSEL herself conducting the debrief. Eloise Cartwright was one of the greatest spies the world had ever known, the trail of terrorist organizations she’d left destroyed and dictators overthrown in her wake making her a legendary, even before she’d founded DAMSEL. This was a woman with zero patience for fools and no tolerance for failure, and in her mind’s eye, Cindy imagined the tall, elegant brunette examining her scornfully, steel-grey eyes viewing her with contempt from behind black-rimmed glasses.

“You made some elementary mistakes that would have gotten you killed or captured in a real-world assignment, Ms. Roth,” the Director continued. “Three times, you’ve failed to pass the infiltration test. And yet… most times when a prospective field agent is overcome in that taste, that is the end of it. They accept their defeat and move on. But you… you keep trying, even when you do not succeed. That is the sort of determination DAMSEL requires.”

Warm breath filled Cindy’s ear, delightfully pleasant despite the circumstances. “Do you truly wish to be a field agent?”

Cindy nodded, heart pounding at the other woman’s closeness. “Then you will have your chance. Yes, you made a great many mistakes in the exercise, but not giving you a chance to learn from them would be an even greater one. Your formal training begins tomorrow.” Her hand caressed the younger woman’s cheek, provoking a small shiver from the bound aspirant. “It will be interesting to see what you can accomplish under my tutelage…”