Agent Yang in... Occipussy - Part 1
by T. Prince, tk_prince@hotmail.se
A nefarious European nationalist organization threatens the global order. Enter Agent Yang.


"And we will NEVER give up our heritage! Vive le France and long live the
West!"

The crowd exploded with cheers as Louise Bellerose, the hotshot newcomer on
the right-wing populist stage, finished her speech by curling her fingers into
a fist and pounding the air three times. As usual, she had absolutely killed
it, and even her staunchest naysayers would find it hard to deny that the
fickle goddess of momentum was now fully on her side.

Louise was a slender 29-year-old woman with cold grey-blue eyes, high
cheekbones and a luxurious mane of white-blond hair that she allowed to
trickle down over her bosom. She had inherited the post of party leader from
her infamous mother, Celine Bellerose, and soon reached levels of popularity
that even her august predecessor could never have dreamed of. How much of her
political success was attributable to her fantastic looks was difficult to
say, but it sure couldn't hurt that the party message was being communicated
by someone with the face, height, hair and figure of a Nordic valkyrie.

"Fantastic!" her assistant Juliette cooed as the politician exited the stage
on the way to her dressing room. "They adore you, madame. To make things even
better, the newest Ipsos poll just came in twelve minutes ago and it's a
bloodbath. We're leading with double digits."

"Don't trust the polls, Juliette," the blonde chuckled. "Except in this case,
of course."

"Everyone says that the Pan-European message was a brilliant gambit. Scrap the
EU and replace it with a coalition of nationalist governments united against
the East? It's brilliant! We're hogging the populist vote AND the support of
big business."

"Yes, but the bottom line is that our nation is finally coming around to the
importance of reasserting the supremacy of Western culture in the world,"
Louise mused to herself as she checked her make-up in her mirror. "Without us,
the world would collapse in on itself faster than an engine in a newbought
Chinese car. What else do I have tonight?"

"A BBC interview at nine, but the interviewer is a pushover. You'll eat her
alive. Apart from that? Nothing."

"Perfect. I'll be in my room."

Louise strode into her dressing room, head held high, and stood for a while
with her hands on her hips, inspecting herself in the mirror. Getting her
audience worked up like that made her feel powerful enough to take on the
world, and the sensation of power made her feel... sexy. She loosened another
button on her crisp white shirt to expose a bit of the cleavage between her
hefty breasts. She then curled a lock of viking-blond hair around her finger
and winked seductively at her reflection.

"La gloire de la civilization occidentale," she whispered, imagining herself
seducing a crowd of billions with this juxtaposition of her body and two
millennia of uninterrupted Western triumphs, the two somehow blending into one
dazzling whole. She swung around on the balls of her feet to check out her
derriere in the mirror -- heart-shaped and pert even beneath her conservative
blue skirt.

"Does it give you a lady-boner to think of your culture as better than
everyone else's?" a female voice asked, coming from just behind her.

Louise Bellerose spun around and stood with her back to her make-up table, her
hands anxiously grabbing the edge of the table for support. She looked around.
Seconds passed. Nothing could be discerned, save for the ticking of her
antique clock (a family heirloom), her own breaths and the feeling of the cold
table pressing against her rear end.

Then, a hand gently pushed the door shut, revealing a slender black figure
hidden behind it: a young woman of Asian descent, dressed in a figure-hugging
black catsuit. Her lips were curled into a smile and her dark eyes flashed
with playful intelligence.

"You've got a lot of guts to come here like this," Louise hissed between
clenched teeth.

"Well, someone has to be on hand when you people overstep your boundaries."

"Overstep our boundaries?" The blonde smiled coolly. "Does it frighten you to
see the people of Europe rising up to claim its cultural birthright? Globalism
is over, my Chinese friend. There is only the West... and the Rest!"

"It is not part of my job to meddle with your politics," the Chinese woman
replied. "I'm here regarding reports that you're taking money -- and possibly
orders -- from a multi-national organization that's responsible for a lot of
bad things around the world."

"Oh, you mean G-H-O-S-T," Louise snorted with a mirthless chuckle. "I won't
deny that they're among our many donors, but you're a fool to think we take
orders from them. My mission is to bring power back to the European people and
nothing else."

"Sure, pull the other one. What's your game here, besides Western chauvinism?"

"You're not a very bright one if you think I'm going to spill our best-kept
party secrets to someone like you. But don't worry, you'll find out yourself
in a week or so... if not via your boss, then via the news."

"Who is your G-H-O-S-T contact?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Who is your go-between? Give me an alias."

"Pff!" Louise harrumphed, tilting her head upward in an unmistakably Gallic
expression of contempt. "I think this conversation has dragged on for too long
already. S?CURITE-!!"

Quick as a leopard, the Chinese agent leapt to her feet and sprinted toward
the blonde, her shoulder thrust forward, and ended up tackling the politician
in the midsection before she had finished her sentence. The slight upward
angle of the blow caused Louise Bellerose to bounce off the floor and land
bottom-first on her make-up table, legs seductively akimbo.

"How dare you!? I will-!!" the blonde thundered, but was promptly silenced
when the Asian woman unrolled a piece of duct tape and gagged her with it.
Without words to convey her outrage, the Frenchwoman's eyes began to dart
around bewilderedly.

"I've been waiting to do that for so long now," the Chinese agent said as she
proceeded to tie up the Frenchwoman's arms and legs. "And believe me, having
done it, it was worth the wait."

"Hmmppphhh!!!" the blonde politician protested, but her complaint fell on deaf
ears. The Asian woman grabbed her promptly by the waist and hoisted her over
her shoulder, like a felled deer, before making a beeline for the window.

By the time security had arrived, Louise Bellerose and the intruder were both
gone, leaving only an open window, a shoeprint on the windowsill and, for some
reason, a strange sphere-shaped metal object behind.

One of the security guards squatted in front of the object and held it up in
the light. As she did so, the object began to hiss faintly, and a moment
later, the whole room was full of thick, greenish gas. One guard screamed, and
another phoned for help, but it did not take long for the smoke to disperse,
leaving all the guards unharmed.

However, something wasn't quite right.

"Huh!?" went one of the busty security guards when she looked down to discover
her clothes mysteriously gone, leaving her naked save for her regulation bra
and panties -- both white cotton with the word "S?CURIT?" in blue lettering
front and back -- which were rapidly shrinking in size until they too had
evaporated.

"Oooh!" the other guard yelped when she discovered that she was completely
nude from breasts to bush, and hurried to cover up as much as she could.

Not too far away, the Chinese agent was climbing down a sewer shaft, her
squirming cargo perched securely on her shoulder.

"Nothing like a bit of Striponide to spice up your exit," the Asian woman
chuckled to herself as she began to jog through the shallow sewage. "Dissolves
all kinds of clothing within the space of seconds. A new invention, courtesy
of our brilliant minds over at the MSS."

Louise Bellerose mumbled something inaudible and continued to squirm.

"Agent Yang, give me a status report!" an electronic voice suddenly barked in
her ear.

"All proceeding according to plan," agent Yang responded. "I've got
Marie-Antoinette draped over my shoulder and I'm making my way to the
rendezvous point as we speak."

"Outstanding! Any unforeseen problems I should know about?"

"None whatsoever, Big Sister."

"Well, I've got one that *you* need to know about. It seems our previous
communications were intercepted by an unknown source, so don't be surprised if
someone's on your tail."

"Big Sister, I took out one of the seven leaders of G-H-O-S-T. I've had half
the world on my tail for the last six months. I can handle myself."

"Famous last words, agent Yang, famous last words. All I'm saying is be
careful."

"Do I detect an undertone of concern? Am I dreaming? Is Big Sister finally
becoming... sentimental?"

"If sentimental means wanting to put my boot up your bony ass for being so
cavalier about this mission, then I guess that's what I am, but all I know is
that if you screw up this mission, there's gonna be hell to pay when you come
home!"

"Never mind, you haven't changed a bit."

After roughly eight minutes of walking, agent Yang found the exit she was
looking for. Some ten feet above, a sewer lid went POP! and out crawled a
sewage-stained Chinese woman with an elegantly-dressed, well-built blonde
balancing on her slender shoulder.

Yang zig-zagged through a number of desolate lots before arriving at the
rendezvous point: a large abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. She entered
the building via the garage and entered the main room, which was windowless
and completely dark.

She flipped on the light switch, expecting to find her allies waiting in the
middle of the storage room.

They were, but not in the way she had expected.

She only had time to pull her Beretta before a shot echoed through the giant
space, and a bullet struck the gun out of her hand.

"Put... her... down," a husky female voice cried out. A powerfully-built
female figure emerged from behind a pair of crates, carrying a sniper rifle.
The woman was a dark-haired Caucasian wearing a white tanktop that only just
about contained her truly spectacular bosom, and military pants tucked into a
pair of shiny combat boots. As the woman came closer, Yang could make out her
eyes. They were almost eerily green -- like the skin of some tropical snake.

"I probably don't need to ask whose interests you represent," agent Yang
snorted.

"Zip it, Short Round. Put down Miss Bellerose, then we can talk."

Reluctantly, Yang obeyed. The dark-haired woman -- whose imposing height was
becoming clearer now that the two of them stood face to face -- gently untied
the frustrated blonde, finally removing the gag that had kept a lid on her
mouth.

"INTOL?RABLE! QUELLE INSULTE!!" the politican roared. "I've NEVER been so
HUMILIATED in my LIFE!!"

"Miss Bellerose, you're safe now. Has this terrorist hurt you in any way? Were
you interrogated?"

"She STRUCK me! HERE!" She gestured to her midsection, where Yang had tackled
her. "And she carried me through the SEWERS!"

"I'm sorry about that, ma'am," the dark-haired woman said cordially. "I can
promise you it won't happen again. You!" Here she gestured to Yang. "Go join
your friends over there."

Agent Yang glanced at her two colleagues, who lay hogtied in a ring in the
center of the warehouse. She scanned the room as quickly as she could, and
registered a minimum of three more adversaries in the room, in addition to the
buxom sniper in front of her.

There was another dark-haired woman in full combat gear squatting behind a
box, so that Yang could only make out her face and upper body. She had a
lovely, feminine face, thick lips and a characteristic nose that struck Yang
as somewhat Slavic in appearance. She was chewing gum and a dog tag glinted
between her almost distractingly full breasts.

Further away, another female soldier was standing with her back to the others,
guarding the other entrance to the warehouse. Since Yang couldn't see her
front, she had to make do with the three most striking features visible from
behind: the soldier's lustrous waist-length blond hair, the M4 assault rifle
ominously slung over her back, and her absolute peach of a behind, which was
nicely showcased by her tight-fitting olive-colored military pants.

Finally, there was a brunette making the rounds at the other end of the
warehouse. Yang caught her only in profile: a fairly short and slender (for a
Westerner) young beauty wearing a tank top and camo pants, her
chestnut-colored hair half-obscured by a military helmet. Two submachine guns
dangled from her thighs, and bobbed up and down like the ends of a seesaw as
she swung her hips.

With two of the henchwomen looking away, the Slavic soldier momentarily
distracted, and the woman with the sniper rifle occupied with Louise Bellerose
and her complaints, agent Yang realized that the time to act was now or never.

"Colonel, you must kill her now!" the Frenchwoman barked, standing with her
back toward Yang. "She and her MSS comrades will do anything to get their
hands on me!"

Yang registered four visual clues with painful clarity -- Louise Bellerose's
unguarded buttocks, the light switch behind her, her colleagues bound and
gagged in the middle of the room, and a ventilation shaft in the corner of the
warehouse -- and they merged together to form a plan.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," Yang snorted, just before delivering a prompt
kick up the arrogant politician's shapely rear (which, needless to say, she
found indescribably satisfying), sending the squealing blonde staggering
forward into the arms of the surprised colonel. Before the Westerners could
process what had happened, there was a faint click, and the room was plunged
into darkness.

"OOUUUHHHH!!! TERRORISTE!! AIDEZ-MOI!!"

"She's getting away! GET HER!!"

"OOFF!! She's here!!"

"OOWW!! No, she's here!!"

It took about half a minute for someone to relocate the light switch, but when
the light returned, a remarkable number of things had changed in the room.
Louise Bellerose, her hair attractively tousled and her thick lips pouting as
she rubbed her smarting derriere, remained in place -- but agent Yang was
missing. In the center of the warehouse, where Yang's compatriots had lain,
lay only a pile of discarded duct tapes. A bit further away, the Slavic
soldier had been knocked down on her stomach and lay groaning, while a further
away still, the blond soldier sat on her bottom, legs akimbo, looking dazed.
The faint noises of footsteps could be heard echoing through the ventilation
shaft.

"Impossible!" the third soldier said, her mouth hanging agape. "No one could
possibly be that fast."

"You don't know who that was, Emmanuelle," the colonel replied, smiling
secretively. "That was agent Yang, the quickest little weasel to ever come
crawling out of that rat-infested dungheap called the Orient."

"Oh yeah? Well, sooner or later, we'll have her cornered, and then let's see
how that Eastern agility measures up against Western muscle."

The dark-haired colonel smiled. "That's been tried before. To catch a weasel,
you need a trap. And now that I think about it, I know just the person who
could set it up."

***

"And you are absolutely positive that Bellerose said 'in a week or so'?" Big
Sister asked, peering thoughtfully at the twilit rectangle of Tiananmen Square
through her office window. "Those were her *exact* words?"

"You've seen the results of my aptitude tests, Big Sister," Agent Yang
replied. "My memory is extremely accurate."

"Then that leaves no doubt about her plan. We know that the Bellerose types
and G.H.O.S.T. alike want to unify the West and destabilize the rest of the
world to pave the way for Americo-European supremacy. We have no reports of
G.H.O.S.T. activity in East Asia, but our intelligence is lacking when it
comes to the other regions. However, this weekend, a major geopolitical
conference is scheduled to take place, and it is one in which our adversaries
are sure to be interested in meddling with."

"The Pan-African conference in Lagos."

"Exactly." Big Sister walked over to her desk and stood bent over it for a
while, deep in thought. "My suspicion is that they will sabotage, or... meddle
with it somehow. But until we know how they plan to do it, there is nothing we
can do."

"Rats."

"Rats, indeed. By the way, we ran a scan on the scary-looking lady you bumped
into back in the warehouse. Take a look."

Yang bent over sideways to look at Big Sister's laptop. There she was --
dark-haired, fierce and with eyes greener than an Irish lawn -- the woman who
had deprived her of her precious cargo:

NAME: Colonel Marlene Maxwell SEX/SEXUALITY: Female/straight NATIONALITY:
American OCCUPATION: Colonel, U.S. Marine Forces ALLEGIANCE: U.S. Army and
G-H-O-S-T THREAT LEVEL: High KNOWN ASSOCIATES: Ex-Sgt. Allison Jones
(Shadowlake Merc.), Ex-Sgt. Ruzica Zoranovic (Shadowlake Merc.),

Ex-Sgt. Emmanuelle Boull? (Shadowlake Merc.)

Looking at the list of Maxwell's known associates, Yang had no trouble
associating each name with one of the henchwomen she had encountered. Ruzica
was clearly the busty Slavic-looking broad, Allison the nice- bottomed blonde
and Emmanuelle the slender Gallic-accented brunette.

"A US Army colonel in cahoots with the Shadowlake crew," Yang sighed. "Why am
I not surprised?"

"We were tracing this group's movements a couple hours after you left them in
the dark -- no pun intended -- but then we lost them. Probably picked up by
some stealth aircraft."

"I could try paying Bellerose another visit."

"Impossible. At this point, she's the most well-guarded person in all of
France. This little incident is blowing up in the international news."

"Too bad. I bet we could milk her for some really good info."

Big Sister smiled. "With knockers like hers, I bet we could milk her for more
than that."

"French people's names sound so tasty, like they're all walking desserts. Do
you think they... taste as good too?"

"Dammit, agent Yang, are you talking about sucking creme brulee-flavored milk
out of Louise Bellerose's erect pink nipples while she blathers on about the
greatness of European culture? Are you talking about licking whipped cream out
of her smooth, cherry-scented white vagina whilst she moans on about the
underrated virtues of the House of Bonaparte? Are you talking about pouring
red wine into her tightly clenched butthole and spanking her juicy French rump
steak with a spatula before bending forward to gobble it all up like a racist
coq au vin? Because I'm not having any of it!"

"I think I need a shower."

"No time for personal hygiene, agent Yang." Big Sister pulled up her screen.
"I'm sending you on a mission and you're leaving ASAP."

"Where to?"

"Las Vegas, Nevada. I want you to infiltrate a private costume party at the
Maxima Casino and locate someone we think may be a rogue G.H.O.S.T. operative.
She's female, Caucasian -- with all the trappings, if you get the picture."

"In HD. What's her name?"

"No name. All we've got is an alias." Big Sister's eyes narrowed ominously.
"Occipussy."

Yang arched an eyebrow. "Occipussy?"

"Occipussy."

"I don't think I'll have any problem remembering that name."

"Then quit stalling and start packing. A helicopter will be here to pick you
up in twenty-five minutes. I'll brief you during your flight, although I
should tell you in advance that information regarding this Occipussy woman is
so scarce that the briefing is going to be very short."

"And yet you feel that you can trust her?"

"I've never met the woman. I'm counting on you to form your own judgment.
Anyway, the party starts in eleven hours. And agent Yang," Big Sister looked
at her sternly, "I realize there was no way you could have anticipated what
happened last night, but the fact of the matter is that you lost Bellerose,
and we're all in a pickle because of it. So try to get the job done this
time."

***

The Maxima Casino was everything its name implied and more. Even in a city
like Las Vegas, the building managed to stand out for its pure, gaudy,
ostentatious excess. The massive marble fountains out front were lit from
underneath with so many different frequencies of light that the water
resembled a cascade of liquid rainbow. Over the entrance, a massive statue
depicting some half-naked goddess of mythology stood guard, her arms raised
high in a gesture of welcome.

Yang entered the building, feeling faintly nauseated by the deadly combination
of a long trip followed by a bewildering excess of impressions. She had
dressed for the occasion: an elegant, form-hugging red-and-gold cheongsam and
a "laughing Buddha" mask which shielded her whole face. Was it foolish of her
to dress in a way that accentuated her Easternness and would risk making her
stand out in the crowd? Yang took one look at the place and realized that her
fears were unwarranted: to stand out in this environment would be virtually
impossible.

A kaleidoscope of neon, crystal and rhinestone accompanied by the symphonic
chorus of a hundred slot machines whirring in unison met her as she came in.
Swanky customers in well-fitted suits and tight evening gowns came striding
through the chaos, a significant number of them wearing masks. A woman in a
diamond bikini stood on a platform riding a gilded champagne bottle the size
of a rhinoceros. A team of Rat Pack impersonators were crooning in the
background, their voices lost in the cacophony. Yang allowed herself to merge
with the stream of people which seemed to be headed further inside the
building.

Eventually, the stream led her to a pair of massive black doors, flanked by
guards. Each guest whispered something in the ear of the nearest guard, and
were allowed entry with a courteous nod.

Yang froze. Of course there would be a password. There was always a password
when the rich and powerful were having fun somewhere.

"May I have the password, please," one of the dour-looking guards said in a
solemn voice.

"The planets are aligning," an electronic voice suddenly whispered in Yang's
ear.

"The planets are aligning," Yang repeated, a bit hesitantly.

The doors swung open and she was let into the innermost sanctum. Here, in
stark contrast to the rest of the building, the mood was eerily subdued.
Massive red velvet curtains dominated the interior and the light was
strikingly dim, making it all resemble the interior of some kind of inner
organ. A heart? A womb? A vagina?

"Laura Li," Yang whispered into her communication device. "It's you, isn't
it?"

"Why of course it is, angel. You owe me a favor, remember?"

Yang looked around. Everywhere she looked were men and women in elegant
evening wear, all of them wearing masks. The masks were of varying sizes and
shapes, and it was not clear whether each mask was supposed to hide its
wearer's identity or provide some enigmatic clue to the person's innermost
being.

"How do you know where I am?"

"Because I'm there as well."

"I didn't know you fraternized with this type of crowd. Now, as for the favor,
can I ask you to postpone it for just three more days or so? I'm running a
really tight schedule here."

"I'm disappointed, peach. And here I was, ready to spill the beans about Miss
Occipussy and all her friends, but if that's the way you want it..."

"No, wait-!"

Too late. Laura Li was gone, and Agent Yang was alone to brave the strangest
place she had ever seen.

She swiped a hot red drink from a passing waitress's tray (the waitress, a
tasty brunette with a movie star figure, was wearing a form-hugging silver
bikini and a black cat mask -- Yang couldn't help but dart a quick glance at
her delectable bottom before she disapeeared into the crowd), and began to
explore the place. Almost immediately, a well-shaped, rather pale redhead
emerged from the crowd and began to sashay ominously toward her from behind.

Damn. Yang walked faster, holding up a mirror to gauge the threat level of her
pursuer. Stylish cream- colored evening dress, white bandit mask, generous
cleavage, suspiciously white arms and legs... now, hold on just a minute.

She stopped abruptly and spun around to stare down Agent Jane Bowen face to
face. The British beauty was startled and nearly spilled her drink.

"Agent Bowen," agent Yang snorted. "How utterly predictable to find you up to
your old tricks."

"MI-6 is perturbed by the strange info coming in from our double agents in
China," agent Bowen replied dryly. "Did you catch that, agent Yang? I said our
DOUBLE AGENTS in China. That's because they're DOUBLE. AGENTS. In your
organization. I don't mean to labour the point, but we're pretty
well-connected."

"Oh please, you'd stain your frilly British knickers if I told you how many
people in Britain is on our payroll. We have your organization under such
surveillance that I could give you the measurements of every senior agent in
the country."

"Bollocks. What am I?"

"38D-25-37. And your boss calls you Milk-Dud Jane behind your back."

Not even Jane's white bandit mask could mask the degree to which this piece of
information made her blush. "She does not."

"Oh, yes she does. Now, pardon me while I- oops! Sorry!" Yang gave Jane's
drink a quick nudge, so that she spilled it all over the Englishwoman's fancy
dress. The Englishwoman grunted with exasperation, muttered something under
her breath promising vengeance, and then made a beeline for the bathroom.

Yang chuckled to herself as she walked on, eventually finding herself in a
darkened part of the room, where the velvet curtains hung particularly low,
and the only sources of light were a pair of flickering red candles. She
suddenly noticed that she had inadvertently left the crowd, and seemed to be
sharing this space almost entirely with only one other person -- there were
two other women who were skulking about at a not too remote distance, but only
the solitary person remained in the center of this darker zone.

The person approached her. In the shadow, Yang could make out only a vague,
hazy silhouette -- two spectacularly curved lines delineating the shape of a
mouth-watering pair of perfectly-shaped breasts, a sharply indented waist and
then an equally curved set of hips. A stray flicker of light illuminated her
eyes, which seemed to glow with a a cat-like amber color (but this could
perhaps be partially due to the light).

"Miss Occipussy, I presume?" agent Yang asked, instructing her eye-camera to
take an uninterrupted stream of pictures of the majestic silhouette.

"Agent Yang," Occipussy replied, stepping further out into the light.
Suddenly, Yang could make out that the woman was wearing an intriguing black
dress which seemed to resemble a network of vines and flowers, writhing and
blossoming across the fertile garden of her body. A pair of thick, plushy pink
lips gleamed in the candelight. A massive black bird mask halo'd by feathers
covered most of her face, and a mane of warm, golden brown hair streamed down
her shoulders.

"You sure know how to make an entrance," Yang said, earnestly impressed.

Occipussy smiled. "It's what I do." Her smile cooled away. "A word of caution.
You're entering a dark and treacherous world, agent Yang, and soon it will be
too late to turn back. You're already at war with G-H-O-S-T, but if you
continue on the same track, you'll soon be at war with adversaries equally
powerful, but with no need to exercise their power in secret."

"I can handle it. Tell me what is going on."

"In short: a massive geopolitical power grab unprecedented in international
politics. Powerful forces seek to pass a bilateral treaty that will deliver
the whole continent of Africa into their hands. The treaty will be unveiled at
the Pan-African Conference in Lagos, where it will appear to pass unanimously
in the assembly through the use of blackmail, vote machine tampering and
infiltration."

Agent Yang's voice dropped. "They can't... it's not possible."

"It is possible, and it is only the beginning. Next will be the Middle East,
then South Asia, and finally, using the combined political muscle of this
empire of puppet states, East Asia will fall as well."

"Tell me who is doing it. Give me their names."

"G-H-O-S-T is the pupper master, of course, but there are other interests that
want a slice of the cake. Nationalist governments and soon-to-be-governments
in Europe and the United States. Military interests. Big business. You would
not believe the size of this thing."

"I need more than that. Be more specific."

"There are limits to my knowledge too, agent Yang. All I can say is this: one
of the instigators will be a countrywoman of yours -- a triple agent named Tai
Wong. Find her in Lagos, take her out, and steal her identity. You look a lot
like her, so it won't be difficult. See who contacts you on the day of the
conference, and then it's just up to you to follow the trail..."

Yang looked into Occipussy's impenetrable eyes and was just about to ask her
for a place to reach her, when she spotted a white blot in the corner of the
white woman's eye. She spun around, only to find--

*SWISH-SWISH-SWISH!!*

--the hot waitress she had spotted earlier standing spread-legged right behind
her, with her arm extended like that of a baseball pitcher after the throw,
and a long, curved knife slicing through the air toward her.

This was no moment for reflection. Yang tried to duck, but was a split second
too late -- the knife cut a thin gash into her cheek before burrowing into the
nearby wall.

Thinking on her feet, the Chinese agent grabbed a nearby candlestick just in
time to deflect three additional throwing knives, and then reached for her
gun. The assassin, however, was quick on her feet, and managed to execute a
flawless cartwheel kick that knocked the weapon out of Yang's hands.

"Damn, you G-H-O-S-T mooks have really started take it up a notch," Yang
snorted, while she parried a barrage of quick punches and kicks from the
masked assailant.

"We're quick, we're deadly, and there are many of us," the brunette purred in
a sultry whisper, before landing a fairly strong punch to the MSS agent's
stomach, causing her to stagger backwards in pain.

At this point, a large group of security guards were approaching the
disturbance, some with nightsticks and others with drawn guns, and Yang
decided to wait it out, anticipating that the fight would be broken up.
However, the masked brunette simply made a cryptic gesture to one of the
security guards -- forming a triangle with her hands with both index fingers
curled up against her palms -- and the next moment, the guards nodded and
advanced upon Yang instead.

"Unbelievable," Yang muttered to herself. "Even the security team is on
G-H-O-S-T's payroll!"

Luckily for Yang, the security guards proved much easier to dispatch than the
masked assassin. The first one -- a sturdy redhead with black shades and a
mean-looking mouth -- tried to club her over the head with her nightstick, but
Yang effortlessly dodged the blow and retaliated by kneeing the woman in the
crotch -- *CRUNCH!* "AAOOUUHHH!!!" -- and when the next two guards approached,
she simply threw the first guard at them, knocking them over like bowling
pins.

The fourth guard stood at a distance trying to get a good aim with her pistol,
but Yang was several steps ahead of her, and managed to tackle her to the
ground without much trouble. The hapless security guard -- a
not-too-bright-looking black-haired girl with a sizeable bust -- gave Yang a
look of confused resentment before the latter sent her off to dreamland with
an elbow to the side of her head.

Suddenly, Yang noticed that everyone in the room was slowly gathering around
the centre of the action, observing it with mute interest. Everywhere she
looked, masked women in sleek evening gowns and broud- shouldered gentlemen in
swanky suits were peering at her, many of them whispering into cell-phones or
other communication devices.

She had drawn far too much attention to herself. Big Sister would not be
pleased.

"Show's over, folks!" agent Yang cried, just before detonating a Striponide
grenade over her own head, plunging the whole room into thick, impenetrable
smoke.

This turned the tables on the sinister masked crowd, who were aghast to
discover that their clothes were evaporating into thin air -- and so were
their masks! Everywhere, semi-naked women were running around, colliding with
each other with their hands held up over their faces to protect their
identities.

Since the Striponide was also working quickly on Yang's own clothes, she
realized that time was of the essence. She pressed a button on the watch to
summon "Jade Monkey", her faithful transportation drone, and then scouted out
the masked brunette among the crowd. The assassin was was kneeling on the
floor, assembling some sort of automatic weapon from out of a suitcase, but in
the act of doing so she was unwisely turning her back to her mark -- a mistake
which would prove fatal.

Agent Yang, seeing the henchwoman's bikini-clad bottom poke out of her bag in
a rare unguarded moment, zig-zagged through the crowd until she was close
enough to take a dive, at which point she went down on her knees and slid
forward on her knees on the polished floor -- the bad girl's curvaceous butt
getting closer by the millisecond -- until she could incapacitate the brunette
with a flawless knife-hand chop to her bulging, perfectly smooth snatch.

*TTHWWACCCKKKKK!!!*

Her hand plunged mercilessly into the moist softness of the assassin's very
womanhood, splitting her vaginal lips open and diving straight inside until it
struck her pubic bone with a hollow, painful thud.

"Ooohhhhhhhhhh...." the assassin moaned hoarsely as she realized that she had
been outmaneuvered, and she fell face-first into her suitcase, nearly
unconscious with shock and pain.

"Rookie mistake, sweet-cheeks," Yang chirped, "never turn your ass toward your
enemy, unless you want-" her she jammed a syringe into the groaning
Caucasian's half-exposed right butt cheek -"a very powerful Chinese
tranquilizer up your rear!"

The chemical entered the assassin's bloodstream within seconds, and she
fainted with a soft, helpless whimper.

By this time, Yang's clothing had dissolved to the point that she was
basically wearing a bra and a miniskirt, and her mask provided no anonymity
whatsoever. Fortunately for her, Jade Monkey had already managed to navigate
the building's complicated ventilation tunnels and was now appearing at the
edge of her vision, flashing red in the half-darkness.

"'Sup, Monkey?" she said as she hoisted the limp assassin over her shoulder
and climbed on top of the drone.

"Stop her! She's getting away!" someone yelled, but it was too late -- the
drone was already gone, leaving the hundreds of masked women to grope
helplessly in the Striponide mist as their last undergarments went up in
smoke, leaving the women who entered in perfect anonymity in the awkward
position of having to leave the room with absolutely nothing left to hide.

***

"Wakey wakey!"

The brunette opened her eyes with a soft groan, and then had to do a double
take before she could register what was happening. She found herself lying on
her back on a large hotel bed, completely naked, with her tied-up legs
suspended by a rope attached to the ceiling so that they were raised up almost
vertically. She was also no longer wearing a mask.

"What's... going on!?" she cried hoarsely.

"It's time for a little chat, sweetie -- or should I say... Kate Mattis, age
26, from Toronto, Canada?"

The brunette flinched. "How...!?"

"Oh please, MSS has access to the best face-recognition technology in the
world. With your mask off, it took us mere seconds to find out your identity."

"You're a fool to think I can give you what you need," the assassin replied,
visibly humiliated. "G-H-O-S-T employs thousands of contract assassins, and
they never tell us anything other than who they want us to kill."

"No, silly, I don't need any more information! I already learned what I need
to know from the person I came here to talk to. No, what I need you to do is
much simpler: I want you to report to your employers that you killed me."

The brunette's eyes began to dart around wildly. "They'll demand proof."

"I'll furnish you with the proof."

"Nevertheless, I won't do it. Trying to pull a fast one on G-H-O-S-T would be
like signing your own death warrant."

"Then you'll be pleased to learn that you'll soon be safe and snug in a
maximum security prison where G-H-O-S-T can't touch you (even if some other
people will be touching you... a lot)."

"Idiot! If you're going to put me in prison anyway, then what's my incentive
for helping you?"

Yang smiled. "To make me stop."

"Stop what?"

"Doing all the things that I'm about to do to you."

Yang pointed to her crotch, which was naked, save for an absolutely massive
black strap-on that waved lazily in the air as she walked. Then she pointed to
a nearby table, where there lay an assortment of whips and paddles, along with
a long line of scary-looking butt plugs.

Kate Mattis' eyes widened, and Yang noticed that her sphincter tightened as
she presumably imagined all the things that were going to go into it.

"But first," Yang said with a mischievous smile, "it's been a long day, and I
feel that I've deserved a little perk."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying that you're really cute. A little curvaceous for my taste --
I like them skinnier -- but it's nice to enjoy a big, hearty Western dish
every once in a while."

"You... wouldn't dare!"

"Watch me."

She placed her hands on Kate's thighs and parted them gently, to allow access
to the perfectly smooth, pink valley that she had earlier given such a rude
treatment. Without further ado, she plunged her tongue into the soft, moist
crevice and began to slowly feast on it like some rare delicacy.

"OOOoohhhhhh," the assassin moaned hesitantly, as her initial resistance was
slowly worn down by the Asian's proficient tongue. Her moans grew even louder
when Yang placed her hands on her trembling buttocks and began to grope and
squeeze them in rhythm with her twirling tongue.

After some time, Yang decided to kick it up one more notch, this time by
soaking her finger in the slowly emerging juices from the white girl's slit
and slide it gently into her tight, winking butthole, plunging it inside up to
her knuckle.

"Mmmmmm! How come your butt is so big and your hole is so tight? One of the
many things about you white girls that make no sense," Yang chuckled as she
licked her lips and dove in for some more.

"OOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" the brunette gasped as the Asian's finger
deftly probed her last bastion of modesty, and soon, Yang could feel a flood
welling up from deep within her. Kate Mattis, Canadian assassin, had been
conquered, and here came the explosive climax to prove it.

"Aaahhhhhhhh!!!!" the Westerner moaned as her love-juices came pouring out,
and she was left sighing in pleasure -- satisfied, depleted and subjugated.

"Delicious," Yang said as she wiped the girl-goo from her lips, "but we're not
done yet. So don't go to sleep!" She gave the bad girl a sharp smack on the
butt to wake her up, and then stood up to begin preparations.

"Agent Yang! Status report, please!" Big Sister suddenly barked in her ear.

"Not now, I'm... uh... in the middle of something," Yang replied and switched
off her communications device. There were some things in the life of a Chinese
superspy that are just best left unreported.

TO BE CONTINUED