Phantom slipped through a sullen crawlspace. She moved with the unpracticed-yet-confident gait of someone who had been told time and again that "she could do it" and had never bothered attempting to "do it".
And yet, there she was, twirling past security cameras. She pirouetted over a trip-wire and danced past a pressure plate. The lair of The Countess was all hers; a stage for her to exhibit; a space to perform her art. And soon, she mused, she'd escalate to the laureled halls of an even greater stage. Soon she'd have The Countess tied to a chair, tape over her mouth and begging for Phantom to do no more.
And then, the dance came to an end. The silently judging cameras all turned to her at once. The plates all triggered. The traps booed and hissed, whirring to life and mobbing her like rabid fans. Tape drones spewed from the walls. Automated security locked on to her like a paparazzo. Phantom was finished, and soon enough, she was on the ground. Her fall from grace had led her to a new stage. She had been demoted from infiltrator extraordinaire to a pathetic and mummified mess. Her body, tightly wrapped in advanced tape that seemed to come from the air itself, squirmed and writhed and mashed on the walls. She was grinding her thighs together, trying to loosen the wrapping around her hips and waist. Her calves rippled, wound up by the extremely snug grip of her new attire.
The wrapped agent yelled for help, demanding another chance before blue tape covered her mouth and nose and face, leaving her to squirm in growing, shameful excitement. Three out of ten; decent form, bad execution.
The Countess tapped a few buttons. She had enjoyed watching this simulation more than most. Phantom had a certain joi de vivre, an ability to dash headlong while thinking just barely not enough about the consequences. The executive and infiltrator had spent the past few days encased in her real-life lair after falling victim to one of her real-life traps, and was now "enjoying" the simulated experience of failure. Again. And again. And again.
Soon, the Countess mused, she'd probably break. Or maybe not. The gel that kept Phantom vital was also good at slowing the aging process. The Countess was going to keep her here for a very long time. In a way, anything she did to Phantom would even be cheaper than doing it in real life. Plus, the Countess had so many ways to torment her; she'd hate to commit to just one.
Although Phantom was technically not a spy, she had been "spying" at the time of her capture, and was therefore now a permanent member of the spy collection. Like Cate and the crew from Los Angeles, she was to enjoy the quiet sleep of stasis when the Countess didn't have ideas for the 'phantom reality' in which they inhabited. And unfortunately for all of them (and Phantom in particular), The Countess did have ideas.
===
Posted using PostyBirb