Agent Yang in... Boobraker - Part 3
by T. Prince, tk_prince@hotmail.se
Agent Yang and the M.S.S. strike Victoria's compound. Surprises await.


Marion Citreaux hurried down the corridor, looking nervously over her
shoulder. Security within Victoria Claymore's private fortress was top-notch,
but like the eye of a storm, its very center was an oasis of calm, and you
could walk for minutes without bumping into a single security guard. Still,
Marion's heart was beating faster than a ferret's. She knew that what she was
about to do would be the riskiest move in her life -- and not even her
flawless poker face would be able to sell this bluff if she were to screw up.

She turned left and came upon what looked like a computer room. Swallowing,
she stepped inside and closed the door. This was it -- only a few clicks and
keyboard strokes and she would be done. On the other hand, was she certain
that she was betting on a winning horse? What evidence did she have of agent
Yang's skill in the field? All she had seen so far had been braggadoccio. But
then, on the other hand...

Marion closed her eyes. She let twenty seconds pass before making her
decision. And it was final.

***

"OK, we've got the signal," agent Yang cried. "Let's move!"

The boat, which had been hiding behind a rock, swerved off into the sea and
set off toward the gloomy silhouette of Victoria Claymore's compound. It was a
massive, circular building in the middle of the sea, with machine gun turrets
peeking out of narrow slits on every floor. There seemed to be only one
entrance from the sea, a kind of drawbridge, and above it, swarms of attack
drones were circling ceaselessly.

There were six people in the boat. Agent Yang stood in the bow, while agent
Sun -- a young but promising recruit -- crouched in the stern. The other four
were Chinese elite soldiers dressed in black combat gear, kevlar and
wraparound sunglasses.

The boat approached the fortress, and the first sign that Marion had made the
right choice appeared: neither of the machine gun turrets reacted to their
presence. High above, on the top floor, some of the guards had spotted the
intruders and were firing into the ocean around them, but the boat quickly
disappeared from their view when it sidled up along the wall of the compound
and came to a stop.

Agent Sun fired off a grappling hook which caught stuck in a windowsill on the
third floor. The six intruders climbed the rope in quick succession, and soon
found themselves in an un- guarded room.

"Where to now?" agent Sun whispered.

"First, we have to cross the central court," agent Yang replied. "It won't be
easy. Then, it's three floors up and we should find ourselves in Victoria's
private chambers."

The group moved rapidly through three rooms, encountering minimal resistance
along the way. A pair of guards who had been sleeping on the job were promptly
gagged, hogtied and locked inside a storage crate.

Finally, they arrived at the central court: a huge circular outside area,
nearly a hundred yards across. A field of warheads of varying sizes were
located all over the place, some of them even attached to launching platforms
and ready to be fired off on the spot.

"What's she planning to do -- start World War III?" agent Sun quipped.

"Why not? It would be the most profitable opportunity of her career," agent
Yang replied glumly.

An ear-splitting alarm alerted them to the fact that something was wrong.

"Shit! That alarm shouldn't be working!"

Suddenly, a swarm of Shadowlake mercs appeared on the scene: dozens and dozens
of athletic women in skintight grey jumpsuits were pointing their scoped
machine guns at the intruders from every direction.

"Welcome, agent Yang and crew," a posh-accented British voice came booming
through a megaphone. Victoria Claymore, dressed as usual in an expensive black
suit unbuttoned to reveal a generous portion of her ample cleavage, strode
into the center of the court, her high-heeled shoes clicking rhythmically
against the concrete. Marion came tottering after her, looking shyly into the
ground.

"She sold us out," agent Yang groaned. "Unbelievable."

"Pardon! I'm so sorry, but I had to consider the risks," the gambler replied,
pouting at the accusation.

"You made the right choice, cherie," Victoria smirked. "Now go off to your
room -- we'll postpone the game until later in the evening."

"Did you know that we were on to you?" agent Yang asked grimly.

"No, but I had my suspicions," the arms dealer said, swinging her hips as she
walked up to a more prominent location in the court. "I knew that Ulrika Weiss
would talk eventually, and that the only identity she was capable of ratting
out was mine. But the fact that you were coming so soon, and the... bizarre
plan you hatched to do so was a complete surprise."

"Where are the blueprints for Project Eastwind?"

"In safe storage." Victoria smiled. "Don't you worry, agent Yang, we're not
going to sell the blueprints to anyone... unseemly."

"Then what are you going to do? What's all this for?"

"Oh, you ask such boring questions. G-H-O-S-T has its own goals, which I can't
answer for. As for my own goals -- well, what do you think? I'm a
businesswoman! All I want in this world is a leg up in the competition!" The
arms dealer strode over to a particularly large warhead, onto whose side had
been painted a tall, blond valkyrie reclining sensually with her head thrust
back. "Just like I wanted when I designed this baby: IM-10 "Bramhilde". The
most cutting-edge intercontinental missile on the market. As sturdy and
unstoppable as its namesake!"

"Bramhilde the valkyrie?" agent Sun raised an eyebrow. "You're familiar with
the stories about her that were dug up in China recently, aren't you?"

"Those silly Eastern fairytales? "Tale of the Three Swords"? More like "Tale
of the Three Bores" -- I couldn't even get through the first chapter!"
Victoria Claymore snapped her fingers, and a Shadowlake merc handed her an M4
machine gun. "But I'm droning on. Any last wishes before we pump you full of
lead?"

Agent Yang looked at her companions. "Could we all enjoy one last cigarette?"

"Hah! Go ahead, you nicotine freaks. Those things'll kill you, but then again,
we'll do the same -- and much sooner."

Yang reached into her breast pocket and pulled out Meiyang's
specially-prepared box of cigarettes. She let each member of her team help
herself to a cigarette, and each person replied with an understanding nod.

"You're looking awfully smug for someone about to die, agent Yang," Victoria
chuckled as she propped up her machine gun against her shoulder and began to
take aim.

"It's because you've missed one tiny detail in your plan."

"And what would that be?"

"That there's no smoke... without fire!"

Without warning, the six members of Yang's team exhaled, bringing forth plumes
of roaring flame that struck the entire front line of Victoria's merc squadron
head on. Immediately, chaos ensued. A dozen Shadowlake mercenaries began to
run screaming in every direction, their bodies coated in fire from head to
toe. Taken completely by surprise, the other mercenaries began to fire blindly
into the chaos, but quickly found that Yang's team had spread out and become
much harder to hit.

"I've got one here!" a tall, busty brunette roared as agent Sun came
cartwheeling her direction, but just as she was about to take aim, the Chinese
agent kicked the gun out of her hands.

"Looks like I'm the one who's got you," agent Sun replied, just before landing
a paralyzing punch in the brunette's soft gut. The mercenary's lovely brown
eyes popped wide open and she groaned in response, but agent Sun quickly
silenced her with an uppercut to the chin -- *CRACK"* -- that sent her flying
back and landing gracelessly on her butt.

"HEEEEL-!" *WHAM!* "Oooohhhh...." With a simple elbow drop to the back of the
brunette's head, one of agent Sun's teammates finished the job. The Shadowlake
merc toppled over and landed on her face, while agent Sun swiped her machine
gun off the ground and reloaded it.

Meanwhile, agent Yang was engaged in a fistfight with a six-foot black-haired
amazon when she spotted a familiar sight -- a flash of black and red darting
down the roof of the fortress on its way to the brawl. There was no mistake:
Natasha Lagunova had arrived, and Yang had spotted her first.

"Guess I don't have time for you anymore," Yang hissed as she dodged her
enemy's punches left and right, before lunging forward and grabbing her
promptly by the tits. The mercenary gasped as Yang's small, strong fingers
sunk into her perfectly round breasts, the boob-flesh spilling out between her
knuckles. Keeping a firm grip on the mammaries, Yang then spun around and
executed a perfect judo throw, flinging the flabbergasted white woman over her
shoulder by her breasts and sending her crashing upside-down into a nearby
wall. The mercenary moaned in pain, before falling back to the ground,
unconscious.

Yang fired a grappling hook onto the edge of the roof and pressed the "REEL"
button on her wrist- watch, which sucked the metal wire back into its holder,
bringing Yang up to the edge of the roof in a matter of seconds. She drew her
Beretta and snuck over to where she had last spotted Natasha.

She found the Russian renegade kneeling over her sniper rifle, trying to scope
out her principal enemy within the chaos ten floors below. Yang pointed the
Beretta at the back of her luscious crimson head and coughed.

"Game over, Natasha," she exclaimed triumphantly.

"Chyort voz'mi!" the redhead spat. "This can't be!"

"Stop whining and get up," agent Yang replied, kicking the rifle out of her
hands and off the roof. "When we're done here, I'm dragging your sneaky white
ass with me back to Beijing for "questioning"."

But the cold-blooded Russian redhead was not about to let herself be caught
that easily. While Yang reached down to put her foe in an armlock, Natasha
head-butted her without warning, dazing the Chinese agent long enough for the
redhead to deliver a roundhouse kick that sent her flying off toward the edge
of the roof.

"We'll chyust see about thyat," the Russian said as she advanced upon Yang
with swaying, cat-like steps. Yang reached for her gun, but Natasha was
faster, nailing down the MSS agent's hand against the roof with her heel with
an expertly-aimed stomp.

"UUNNGGHHH!!!" Yang groaned as the knife-like bootheel just about impaled her
hand.

"I lyyike to watch you suffer, agent Yang," Natasha purred, as she smirked
down at her defiant prey. "But I'm in a hurry, so I'll chyust make it
quick..."

She reached into her boot and pulled out a foot-long stiletto. The sun flashed
in the edge as it slashed through the air. With a shriek, Yang tore her hand
loose and rolled aside just in time to avoid being stabbed through the heart.

Seizing upon her momentary advantage, Yang leapt up on her feet and delivered
a knife-hand to the back of Natasha's neck, which caused the redhead to drop
her knife and fall to her knees with a gurgling noise. Yang followed up by
plunging her elbow into the Russian's face, a blow that sent the latter flat
on her back with her face in her hands, groaning in pain.

"You'll PAY for that, sooka!" the redhead roared, before firing off a flurry
of kicks and blows that Yang only narrowly avoided, finally managing to land a
punch in Yang's gut. Yang, however, recovered just in time to dodge a
follow-up heel drop to the back of her head, and retaliated by sinking her
thumbs into the pits of the redhead's knees.

"AAAGGHHH!!! Let GO!!" Natasha cried, but when Yang wouldn't obey, the redhead
promptly dropped her curvy backside onto Yang's head, knocking her down
against the roof. The Chinese agent suddenly found herself nailed against the
iron surface beneath Natasha's powerful buttocks, her air supply and field of
vision both cut off by the well-exercised Russian glutes.

"MMMMPPPGGHHH!!!" Yang protested, but to no avail. She scratched and pulled at
the Russian's legs, but all in vain. All the while, she could hear the redhead
cackle with satisfaction at the outcome.

"If it's any consolyyation, agent Yang," Natasha chuckled as she ground her
butt into Yang's contorted face, "you won't be the first person that I've
kyyilled this way."

Finally, Yang managed to extract the arm wearing her wristwatch and point it
at what she surmised to be Natasha's head. She pressed the appropriate button
by bashing the watch against Natasha's back, and finally, after a couple of
tries, she managed to fire off her grappling hook, which struck Natasha hard
in the back of her head, and sent her toppling over on all fours with a
high-pitched yell.

"Gross," Yang replied, wiping Natasha's butt-dirt from her lips. The redhead
had been momentarily dazed by the grappling hook, and remained frozen on all
fours with her shapely, vinyl-clad derriere only inches away from the face it
had just brutalized.

Eager for revenge, Yang freed her knee and thrust her kneecap into the soft,
unprotected region between Natasha's legs. The blow drew a shocked moan from
the redhead as the knee entered her plushy inviting snatch and traveled all
the way up to her pubic bone. The blow caused the black-clad ass to arch up
even more, as the redhead curled up to nurse her wounded privates.

"Oh, you've made yourself deserving of that," Yang chuckled, just before
raising her foot up to her chin and stomping the upturned ass right in the
centre. The kick sent Natasha flying off from Yang's body, her spine almost
unnaturally curved as she sailed through the air with her well-rounded
buttocks vibrating like Jell-O from the well-deserved stomp.

"And that too!"

The redhead stood up on shaky legs and inspected her rear end for damage. To
her embarassment, Yang's sole had left a large muddy shoeprint right across
her pert derriere, as if in visual testament to how hard she was losing the
battle.

"I'll make you regret that, you filthy Chinese pig!" Natasha hissed, and her
cheeks showed the faintest hint of a blush -- apparently, Yang thought, even
Russian agents do it!

"Nothing you do will ever make me regret that," Yang laughed, cockily
beckoning the redhead forward with her hand.

Livid, Natasha lunged forward with the intention of bum-rushing her opponent,
but Yang stepped aside like a seasoned matador, crouched to pick up Natasha's
stiletto from the ground, spun around and delivered a brilliantly-aimed cut
with the knife in a maneuver so satisfying that time seemed to slow down while
she executed it. The blade burrowed itself into Natasha's jumpsuit between her
shoulder blades and traveled downwards along her spine, leaving a narrow slit
along the way, passing between the redhead's shapely buns and tracing her
crack past her anus and all the way down to her perineum.

When Natasha became aware of the cut, the damage was already beginning to
show. A narrow crack appeared in her jumpsuit, causing it to slide off her
body in two halves until she was left in in her underwear. There was something
particularly satisfying about seeing someone as cold and menacing as this
Russian elite agent stripped down to near-nudity, Yang thought -- kind off
like peeling off the armor of a heavily armored knight. She took a moment to
delight in the sight: the chilly, no-nonsense redhead standing gingerly with
her feet closely pressed together, her clothing in tatters all around her and
the only thing left on her body a pair of tight red cotton panties and a
matching bra.

"Is that a Soviet star I spy?" Yang laughed.

Natasha blushed. It was! There, stitched into her panties and displayed across
her snow-white buttocks was a golden star containing the Communist hammer and
sickle, its location inadvertently making it look like a giant patriotic
butthole. Instinctively, Natasha placed her hand over the star, as if to cover
up her secret political allegiance.

"The United Sovyyet Socialist Republics was a glorious empyyre," the redhead
hissed. "It was a shame to see it fall."

"So now you work for Western corporate interests? Makes sense."

"You don't understand the workings of G-H-O-S-T," Natasha snapped as she spun
around, revealing two similiar Soviet stars emblazoned on her bra, just over
her nipples. "Yoy don't understand how to govern the world in secret, above
petty political interests."

"Neither do you, I'd imagine, seems you don't seem to have made it higher than
lowly henchwoman -- just like that bimbo Ulrika Weiss."

Natasha roared and lunged forward for a new attack. Again, Yang dodged her
punches left and right, before stopping her dead in her tracks with a double
punch straight to the tits -- each fist flattening each Soviet-branded boob
like a pancake against her breast- bone.

"OOHHHH!!!!" Natasha wailed, before Yang shut her up with a blistering punch
to the face that spun her around so that Yang could end the combo with a
stinging knife-hand up the Russian's ass -- the side of her hand passing
perfectly in between her marble-colored cheeks and taking her Soviet-themed
panties with it until it struck her tailbone with a hollow thud -- and a hint
of a crunch.

"AOOOWWWW!! YOU'VE... DISLOCATED MY... ASS!!" the redhead wailed as she
tottered off toward the edge of the roof, clutching her injured posterior as
she walked.

"And what're you going to do about it?" Yang replied, rubbing her smarting
hand.

A familiar whirring noise alerted Yang to the fact that something wasn't
right. A second later, the powerful rotor blades of a Russian transportation
drone appeared above the edge of the roof, and Natasha was limping toward it
as fast as she could.

"Oh no, you're NOT getting away this time!!" Yang cried, and made a beeline
for the discarded stiletto. Just as Natasha plopped her dislocated bottom onto
the whirring machine, the Chinese agent threw the knife... but not at Natasha.
Instead, the knife passed into the drone's engine, where it immediately busted
the machinery and caused the drone to come crash-landing into the roof.

"NYYEEEEETTTT!!!" Natasha wailed as the malfunctioning machine threw her --
ass-first -- into the air, where the rotor blades seized her up by her panties
and stopped her mid-air, sending her ricocheting back and leaving her
suspended in a wedgie. Then, abruptly, the rotor blades sputtered back into
action, swinging the redhead around and around by her panties in an
excruciatingly painful never-ending wedgie carousel.

"AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" she wailed as the stretched-out fabric of
her panties sliced into her ripe, juicy womanhood and jiggling, ignominiously
exposed ass, and the speed of the merry-go-round caused her succulent round
breasts to burst out of her bra and swing freely in the wind, both pink
nipples standing erect and at full salute.

"Da zvedanya, Natasha," Yang cried, blowing a kiss to the anguished Russian
spy, before hurrying down to join the larger battle.

Ten floors below, agent Sun and her team were finding it difficult to hold
their own against Victoria's forces. Roughly half of the Shadowlake
mercenaries had been dispatched, but at the same time, two of Sun's teammates
were wounded and another one had been taken prisoner. The young agent and the
remaining Chinese soldier had retreated to the corner of the court, where they
were crouched behind a barricade of crates, ready to fire at anything that
moved.

At the opposite end of the court, Victoria Claymore was watching her enemies
through the scope of her M4, when she suddenly snapped her fingers.

"RPG," she snapped to a nearby merc, who disappeared and returned a minute
later with a rocket launcher over her shoulder.

The arms dealer took the weapon, fell down on one knee and aimed it carefully
at the distant barricade of crates.

"Time to do what I do best: blow some shit up!"

With those words, she pressed the trigger. With a loud, hollow *PLUNK!* the
weapon spit forth a missile that sailed through the air trailed by a plume of
grey smoke before consuming the crates in a cloud of fire and smoke.

*KKAAA--BOOOOOOMMMM!!!*

When the smoke had cleared, not a splinter was left of the crates. Further
off, two tiny figures lay immobile on the concrete, with most of their
clothing burnt off.

"Good shot, ma'am," the mercenary said, nodding appreciatively. "You're a
natural with the RPG."

"Of course -- I designed it." Victoria looked around, narrowing her eyes. "I
count five enemies down. There should be six. Where the hell is the bitch who
planned it all?"

As if in response to her question, a rifle shot echoed through the court. One
of the mercs shrieked and made a little jump, before her eyes rolled back in
her sockets and she fell over, a tranquilizer dart burrowed deep into the back
of her neck.

"Where did that come from?" one of the other mercenaries wondered aloud, just
before another tranquilizer dart burrowed itself into her left breast, sinking
her too.

"Everyone fall back!" Victoria roared. "Try to scope out the source! I don't
think she's far away!"

*BANG!* *BANG!* Two more buxom mercs fell helplessly to the ground, one with a
dart sunk into her thigh, and the other with one stuck in her left buttock.

"It came from the left! Everyone be prepared for fire from the left!"

And so it continued, every shot decimating Victoria's private army by one
soldier, until -- finally -- the last one, a baby-faced blonde with a vacant
look on her face, found her balloon- shaped tits punctured by two particularly
well-aimed darts (one dart burrowing into each nipple) and fell over with a
groan.

It was only then that Victoria managed to determine the trajectory of the
shots, which were not coming from the bottom floor at all -- but rather from
the roof! Looking up, she caught a glimpse of a dark figure swinging through
the air on a metal wire, and moments later, agent Yang landed gracefully on
her feet, Beretta in hand.

"Surprise!" she chuckled, pointing the gun at the moderately amused arms
dealer.

"What surprises me is the fact that Natasha hasn't taken you out yet,"
Victoria grumbled, adjusting the RPG on her shoulder. "She's supposed to be
the best assassin on the market."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," Yang snickered. "But at the moment, I think you'll find
that Natasha has managed to 'wedge' herself into a pretty tricky position."

"I see. I guess that means I have to carry out the job myself."

The arms dealer reached into her pocket and pulled out a remote control.
Smirking triumphantly, she clicked a button on it and put it back.

"OK, what was that about? Did you just order a tactical nuclear strike on
Beijing? Summon Mechagodzilla?"

"Oh, nothing so spectacular." Victoria grinned. "I just sent out a wee little
wave that caused your gun to jam."

Yang blinked. She pointed the gun at Victoria's cleavage and pulled the
trigger. A hollow click informed her that it was no longer of any use to her.

"See? Now... my turn." Without even blinking, the arms dealer fired her RPG,
blasting agent Yang sky high and enveloping the ground beneath her in a
roaring ball of hellfire. Yang made an arch through the air and then came
hurtling back toward the ground, eventually crashing into it with
bone-splintering force.

After the first ten seconds of intolerable, paralyzing pain, Yang managed to
twist her head at a sufficient angle to see the smirking arms dealer walking
toward her at a leisurely pace, her great, round breasts swaying lazily from
side to side from the movement.

"I'll give you credit, agent Yang," the curvy brunette cackled as she dug into
her pocket and pulled out a gold-plated handgun. "99% of people wouldn't have
survived that. You would have gone far if you hadn't made the mistake of
messing with me."

"Even... if you kill me," Yang grunted, her speech slurred by the stabbing
pain in her nearly-dislocated chin, "it won't matter... I've got two more
boatloads... of MSS agents... just waiting to strike... when they don't hear
from me..."

"I figured you might," Victoria Claymore replied, looking down disdainfully on
her prey. "Which is why I ordered two hundred Shadowlake mercenaries to come
over from the mainland the moment I was notified of your arrival. They left an
hour ago, which means that they should be here in," she checked her watch,
"forty minutes!"

"Twelve of us... against two hundred of you... should be an even fight," Yang
quipped, stretching her neck with a sickening crack.

"Amusing, agent Yang. Very amusing."

"Where's Project Eastwind?"

"If you're planning on listening to me wax lyrical about my grand plan before
killing you, only for you to have recorded it in secret and transmitted it
over to your boss, I'm going to have to disappoint you. But I'll give you a
hint: those blueprints are... ahem... suitably embedded in my life-work."

"A riddle -- great," Yang snorted. "Still, give me a minute and I'll figure it
out."

"I'm afraid you haven't got a minute, agent Yang," Victoria replied as she
aimed her gold-plated gun at her smaller opponent. "Your departure is
imminent, and where you're going, time doesn't exist as we know it."

A bullet whistled through the air, striking the arms dealer's gun out of her
hands. Enraged, the brunette turned toward the source, and saw agent Sun
hiding behind a crate, pointing her gun in her direction. Victoria paused. So
did Sun. The former drew the conclusion that the agent had expended her last
bullet -- and she was right.

This was it. Agent Yang saw her chance, bit down hard and made a clumsy lunge
for the golden gun. Victoria noticed her move, and kicked the weapon out of
reach.

"Stay down!" the brunette grunted, nailing down the Eastern agent into the
concrete with her high-heeled boot and grinding her into the hard surface.
Yang cried with pain, but managed to throw Victoria off her balance with an
elbow-strike to the ankle.

"OW!!! Bloody hell!" the buxom arms dealer wailed, letting go of the Chinese
and allowing her to spring to her feet. A particularly vicious fistfight
ensued, with Yang landing a couple of blows to Victoria's side and stomach
before the latter began to dominate, pummeling Yang's face with a flurry of
crushing punches.

"Mmmphpphhh!!!" Yang cried as the Caucasian's fist tore into her cheek,
drawing a thin stream of blood from her mouth. She spat out a tooth, and
grinned defiantly at her fierce adversary.

"I'm glad you're happy, agent Yang," Victoria replied coolly, wiping the sweat
from her forehead. "You're going to need that positive attitude when I knock
the rest of your teeth down your throat."

She rushed forward and tackled the Asian to the ground with her powerful
shoulder. Yang groaned as her pummeled body crashed into the concrete once
more, with the arms dealer on top of her, but was quickly silenced by an
explosive punch to the gut that nearly caused her to throw up.

"I was the boxing champion at Exeter four years in a row," Victoria cackled,
before landing another punch in Yang's bruised face. "My instructor told me
he'd never seen anything like it. Bet you had no idea about that, huh?"

"As a matter of fact... I did," Yang replied, spitting blood. "And I read that
you tend to focus most of your defense... on your upper body."

Victoria's smile faded and she looked down. Too late. Yang had already freed
her hand and slid it in between the brunette's powerful thighs, where her
suitpants clung tightly to her precious womanhood. Yang grabbed hold of the
unprotected snatch and gave it a hard twist.

"Unnnghhhh!!!" the villainess protested as her opponent increased the
pressure, twisting that bulging mound like a wet towel until it seemed ready
to snap clean off. Victoria's face grew pale and she began to moan, while Yang
simply piled on the pressure. Finally, the brunette reflexively bent forward
-- trying to curl up in a defensive ball -- which brought her face close
enough to Yang's for the latter to headbutt her straight in the kisser.

*TTHHWWAACCKKKK!!!* "Mmmppgghh!!!*

The brunette moaned and let go, rising up on wavery legs and limping off with
both hands plastered to her brutalized vagina. Yang sat up and ran her hand
down her almost completely desensitized face. It was coated in sweat, dirt and
a bit of blood.

"That was... ooohh!!!... a dirty trick.... agent Yang," Victoria moaned, her
voice having become strangely high-pitched for some reason. "As a
gentlewoman... I'm not accustomed to such... ooowww... cheap maneuvers..."

"You sent an assassin to kill me," Yang retorted gruffly. "I'd say you're not
in any position to call foul play."

Yang looked around for Sun, but she appeared to be nowhere within sight. The
agent stood up on wobbly legs and began to cautiously make her move. Her
adversary stood hunched over, seemingly unprepared, but as soon as Yang came
too close, the brunette swung around abruptly and socked her in the gut.

"Urrrghh... not again...!" Yang groaned, holding her midsection whilst doing
her best to dodge the bad girl's frenzied punches.

"I think I know what I'm going to do with you, little spy," the brunette
hissed as she fired off a series of quick blows that Yang dodged only
narrowly, "I'm going to strap you to one of my prototype strategic warheads
and fire you off into the sky. That would be a set of fireworks worth
admiring!"

"The only rockets being fired today... are THESE!" Yang retorted, just before
delivering two utterly unexpected uppercuts that struck the surprised
villainess's big, luscious breasts from below, sending them bouncing straight
out of her blouse and out into the open.

Victoria gasped as her great, pointy 'rockets' came springing out of their
confinement and nearly struck her in the face. With alarm, she noticed that
her stiff pink nipples had popped out of her bra and were on full display.

"Bloody hell! Not my V2s!" the arms dealer whined and instinctively moved her
hands to cover up her boobs. This left Yang with an excellent opportunity to
grab hold of the hem of the brunette's trousers and tug them down to her
ankles, leaving her lower body naked save for a pair of lacy white linen
panties.

Victoria looked down and yelped quietly in embarassment. She was a well-built
girl and her underwear a size too small for her, which caused the fabric to
stick to her willowy curves so tightly that they left little to the
imagination.

"Hey Stiff-tits, nice cameltoe!" Yang chuckled. It was true -- Yang's groin
attack had caused the panties to retreat so far up Victoria's slit that the
whole smooth white canyon was on display.

The brunette was fuming. Glancing sideways, she spotted her RPG lying on the
ground only a few feet away. Without warning, she made a lunge for it,
desperately hoping to reach it before her opponent. However, when it came to
speed, the curvaceous, well-built Westerner was no match for nimble little
agent Yang. The Asian came first, swiped the RPG off the ground just as
Victoria made a dive for it, made a full 360 degree spin on her heels with the
rocket launcher spinning in her hands, and finally delivered a mighty swat to
the white woman's curvy, panty-flossed rump that sent her sliding across the
concrete on her bouncy chest with her butt raised high above her.

"OOOOOHHHHH!!!!" the villainess wailed as she slid headfirst into a crate and
came to a stop, her pert, round peach of an ass still jiggling from being
swatted with her own invention.

Yang twirled the RPG around and finally pointed it straight at the disembodied
booty in front of her, the readied missile plunging into the center of its
jiggly goodness and nudging the white bitch right in the asshole.

"Game over, miss Claymore," Yang cried triumphantly. "I've got your rear
entrance right in my crosshairs and if you so much as twitch an eyelid I'll
send a rocket all the way up your nice little white tushy and treat you to a
suitably karmic end."

"Bollocks! You'd blow yourself us in the process, you dumb gook."

"So what? I'd go straight to heaven while your naughty white rump will be
roasting in hell for all the lives you've killed with your illegal arms
trading and whatever else you've been up to."

"You're barmy! Take that RPG out of my arse before you kill us both."

"Nah, I'm enjoying this way too much." Yang looked around for her companion,
but again, she was nowhere in sight. "Sun! Get over here -- I've tamed the
hellcat! We need to-" *THWACK!* "OOWW!!"

While the Chinese agent was busy looking around for help, Victoria had seen an
opportunity to escape and seized upon it. She kicked up her heel and struck
the RPG from below, causing it to bounce upwards. When agent Yang reflexively
pulled the trigger a split second later, the rocket missed Victoria's bottom
by almost a foot and ascended into the air until it struck the fifth floor of
the compound wall and blew out a dozen windows.

Before Yang could react, the arms dealer had scrambled to her feet and
delivered a blistering kick to Yang's chest that sent her flying off into the
distance. The RPG fell harmlessly onto the ground, and a second later, so did
agent Yang.

"You silly little Chinese monkey," Victoria chuckled, adjusting her
dissheveled blouse as she walked toward her prey. "You're going to need a lot
more firepower than that to bring ME down."

"Will this suffice?"

The voice was a woman's, and Chinese-accented, but it wasn't agent Yang's.
Victoria turned around, and nearly wet herself on the spot. On a little
platform near the entrance, agent Sun had manned a prototype minigun intended
for an attack helicopter, and was aiming it straight at its own manufacturer.
Next to the minigun was an ammunition box that read: "TEST AMMO: 100% RUBBER."

"Oh... darn..." was all Victoria Claymore could muster.

Agent Sun glanced at agent Yang. They were both grinning like kids at
Christmas. Sun pulled the trigger, and a stream of test bullets came bursting
forth and raining down on the near- naked brunette like a horizontal
hailstorm.

"OOOHHH!!!! OOWWW!!! AAAHHH!!! EEEKKKK!!! NNOOOOOO-- OOOHHH!! -OOOO-- OOOWWW!!
-OOOO!!!"

Neither Sun nor Yang could deny their satisfaction at seeing this peddler of
weapons being pelted -- from head to toe -- with her own dark materials. The
rubber balls made short work of her blouse, first reducing it to tatters and
then blasting it right off her body, before proceeding to pound her majestic
breasts black and blue. Each rubber ball sent the great, quivering puddings
bouncing so wildly that the total effect almost seemed to be that her boobs
were rioting against the rest of her body, and wildly clamoring to break free.
Further down, a similar amount of bullets were pelting her across her toned
stomach -- "OOHHH!!" -- strong hips -- "UUGGHH!!" -- healthy thighs --
"AAAIIEE!!" -- and even her bulging, cameltoe'd snatch -- "HHUURRGGHHH!!! NOT
IN THE T-TWAT!!"

"YEE-HAAWW!!!" Sun cried, aiming the stream of bullets up and down for maximal
spread. One rubber ball caught the bad girl in the forehead -- "OOOWW!!" --
causing her to pivot on her heels before falling flat on her tenderized boobs
with a hefty *SPLAT!*, in the process inadvertently arching her spine and
offering up her soft, vulnerable posterior as a new target.

"If that's where you prefer it," Sun chuckled, before focusing the minigun at
the very center of the panty-flossed Caucasian derriere and letting loose a
new stream of rubber balls. For nearly a full minute, she pummeled that
naughty bitch's well-built white rear with bullets, whipping her tasty round
buttocks into such a level of vibration that they seemed about to explode.
Occasionally, a stray rubber ball would find its way into that sweet
starfish-shaped orifice between them, each ball knocking the previous one
deeper inside until there were as many as five or six exploring her rectum at
the same time. Victoria howled at the top of her lungs as the merciless
bullet-spanking continued. Her whole privileged world seemed to be eroding
around her -- for nearly a decade she had evaded the karma of her shady,
horrible deeds, selling guns to third world nations, and she had begun to
think that she was above punishment. And now, here she was, stripped down and
splayed out like a whore while a superweapon of her own making was nearly
tearing her pampered first world upper class ass apart!

Eventually, the minigun ran out of ammo. With a sigh of relief, the arms
dealer collapsed into a heap of dissheveled hair, bruised limbs and reddened
T&A.

"You got her, Sun!" Yang cried, walking over to inspect the pile.

"Seems that way." Sun jumped down from the platform and joined her friend.
"Also, I've rigged the missile depot with C4s as a little surprise for our
friends from the Shadowlake Organization."

"Good. Now all we have to do is find the blueprints and get the hell out of
here."

"Easier said than done." Sun looked around, surveying the huge court. "Where
do we even begin?"

"Tits McRockets over here said they were embedded in her life's work. I'm not
sure what that means, but I guess we should start with those missiles over
the- SUN, WATCH OUT!"

With a chilling cry of rage, Victoria descended upon agent Sun with a
switchblade in her hand, ready to cut her throat. Sun, however, stepped aside
just in time to deliver up the arms dealer to agent Yang instead.

"If you play dirty, you get punished!" Yang snapped, before delivering a kick
to the brunette's midsection that sent her flying back to agent Sun, who
grabbed her by the strap of her bra -- "Bad girl!" -- spun her around and
threw her back to Yang, who split the bra open with a knife-hand to the cleft
between the arms dealer's breasts -- "Naughty naughty!" -- before throwing her
back to Sun, who seized her by the panties -- "AAIIWEEE!!" "Bad, BAD girl!" --
and spun her around in a wedgie-throw before passing her to Yang, who finally
stopped her mid-air with a crippling punch to the groin -- *CRUNCH!!*
"OOOhhhhhh...." -- that sent her plummeting to the ground in a sorry pile.

"We don't have time for this, agent Yang," Sun cried, bending over to catch
her breath. "We need to find Project Eastwind... NOW."

"All right, then. What's rule number one when it comes to locating secret
documents?"

"Rule number one: Don't complicate things - check their person."

Agent Yang nodded. "Exactly."

Groggily, Victoria Claymore mumbled a protest as Sun stood her up on her feet
and began to pat her down. As was the custom, Sun was very thorough --
carefully squeezing the brunette's breasts for possible hidden implants,
rummaging around her mouth with her fingers, and meticulously feeling every
contour of her scalp.

"All right, that leaves only two places. Agent Yang, will you do me the
honors?"

"Of course I will."

Yang unceremoniously tugged down Victoria's panties to her ankles, allowing
Sun to stick two fingers up the arms dealer's moist red snatch and have a nice
long feel-around in it.

"You'll never... find it... in there -- *THWACK!* OOHH!" Victoria cackled, but
was shut up by Yang, who punished her with a sharp smack on her rump.

"It's not in there," Sun echoed her adversary.

Nodding, Yang brusquely bent the brunette over at the waist, exposing her
round, pert derriere for inspection. Sun went to work, parting the round
bruised glutes to reveal the tight little hole in their center, and
immediately thrust up two fingers into the sweaty cavity.

"OOHHH!! Not in THERE, you PERVERTS!!" the white bad girl protested, but Sun
paid her no heed, and explored every inch of her rectum at her own leisure.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head.

"Embedded in her life's work..." Yang's gaze fell upon the gold-plated pistol
lying only a few feet away on the concrete. "Hang on a minute."

She picked up the weapon, ejected the ammo clip and looked inside. Bingo. Down
there, in the dark confines of Victoria's custom-made luxury handgun, was the
unmistakable bottle green flash of the memory stick that Ulrika Weiss had
stolen from her.

"We got it, Sun." She sighed, falling down on her knees in relief. "It's in
here."

"So you solved my little cypher," Victoria hissed with discernible
disappointment. "Congratulations. But don't think that you've won the war.
Even with me out of the game, G-H-O-S-T is like the Lernaean Hydra -- chop off
one head, and another grows right back in the same place."

"You know, Sun, I've come to grow REALLY damn tired with this broad," Yang
snorted. "How much time have we got?"

"Five minutes, maybe four."

"That's enough for what I'm planning to do. Why don't you prepare the IM-10
Bramhilde for blast-off while I crank open the gates here."

"W-w-wait, what? D-did you say... IM-10 Bramhilde... for bl-blast-off!!?" the
arms dealer stammered, but her protestations fell on deaf ears. While agent
Sun prepared the missile, agent Yang flipped over the brunette on her stomach,
grabbed her by the hem of her panties -- "OUCH!! H-Hey!!" -- and dragged her
toward the ominously tilted warhead.

"OOWW!! OOHHH!! AAHHH!! You can't-- OOOHHH!! EEEKK!! --do this to me!!!
AAIEE!!" the villainess whimpered as her sore breasts scraped against the
concrete and her underwear ate into her throbbing cooch.

Having arrived at her destination, Yang pulled out a spool of cord, measured
out an appropriately long portion of it and proceeded to tie one end to the
tail of the missile and the other end around the seat of the brunette's
underwear. She nodded to Sun, who tilted the missile toward the opened gate
and gave the command to fire.

"DAMN YOU SNEAKY LITTLE CHINESE BITCHES!! I'LL GET YOU ONE DAY, YOU CAN BE
SURE OF IT!!" the disgraced bad girl roared at the top of her lungs as the
missile ignited and blasted off, causing the spool of cord to spin around
quickly as the rope disappeared with it.

"Zaijian, miss Claymore," Yang replied, smiling unperturbedly. "Happy flight!"

With a sharp *TWANG* the cord tugged at Victoria's panties and pulled them
into a pussy-bursting wedgie before dragging the wailing Brit up into the air
and out through the gate of the fortress.

"All right, no time to lose," Sun cried. "I think there's a motorboat just
outside the gate. Help me gather up the other soldiers so we can get the hell
out of here!"

By the time the agents had collected their half-conscious colleagues, seated
themselves safely in the boat and darted off toward the open sea, a swarm of
black paramilitary boats had appeared on the opposite horizon and begun to
close in on the deserted fortress. Sun and Yang hid behind a rocky islet and
waited until the two hundred mercs were inside the fortress before Sun pressed
the switch on her watch that triggered the bombs.

A blinding flash, and half a second later a deafening sound as the fortress
was blasted to smithereens by the combined explosive power of Victoria's
entire arsenal. Two minutes later, there were still chunks of concrete raining
down from the skies like errant meteorites.

"I guess you could say we really... blew it out of the water this time," Yang
quipped with a satisfied smirk.

Sun replied with a look that communicated everything that needed to be said.

***

They found the half-conscious Victoria Claymore floating in the water next to
the wreckage of the IM-10, which had crashed into a rock and exploded in the
middle of the ocean. The explosion had singed her from head to toe, leaving
her coated in soot and ash, and every hair on her body -- from her scalp to
her eyebrows to her perfectly smooth pussy -- had disappeared in the
explosion. A plume of smoke was still emanating from her barbecued limbs.

"Stern or bowsprit?" Sun asked as she prodded the smoking bad girl, drawing a
low, defeated groan from her.

"Bowsprit," Yang replied. "This is a trophy bad girl if there ever was one."

And so for the remainder of the voyage, Victoria Claymore hung tied to the
bow, her arms and legs pulled back so that the waves lapped freely against her
great, blackened boobs and smooth pubic mound. As they entered familiar
waters, fishermen stopped to gawk at the unusual sight. Some even took
pictures of it.

"Where do we rendezvous with the MSS plane again?" Sun asked.

"Oh, we still have a long way to go," Yang replied. "Why don't you go below
deck and see if there's some champagne or something we can drink in the
meantime. I mean, hey, this boat was owned by a billionaire -- it's the LEAST
we can expect."

Sun did as she was told. She didn't find any champagne -- she found something
far better.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't miss Queen of Spades hiding below deck like a
regular French scaredy-cat," she cackled as she pulled the terrified poker
queen up on deck, holding her by her hair.

"OUUWW!! Je suis d?sole -- I had no choice in the matter! I... I... I was
forced!! Please, you must believe me!!" the brunette cried, tears beginning to
well down her cheeks, ruining her mascara.

"Oh please," Yang replied, staring at the brunette with amused contempt. "It's
not like we'd forgotten about you, little Marion -- in fact, I was going to
track you down as soon as we were done with the mission. That tattoo I gave
you on your ass? It shows up on radar. You literally had 0% chance of ever
getting away."

"Ohhh," Marion whimpered, growing pale as she realized the extent of her
stupidity.

"But don't be scared -- I'm not going to punish you too harshly. But this is a
relatively small boat, and it only has room for seven people, including our
friends and miss Toasted-Buns over there. So that means someone is going to
have to be towed from the stern."

"T-t-towed... what does that word mean?" Marion stammered.

Yang grabbed the collar of her gown and tore it off in one pull, leaving the
dainty little brunette in her lacy red bra and panties. She squealed with
violated surprise, and attempted to cover up.

"No no, you don't get to keep those on," Yang snorted, before ripping the bra
and panties off as well, exposing Marion's perky white tits and smooth little
snatch for a second time.

Sun tied a string of rope around the poker queen's ankles and secured it to
the stern. Marion looked down at her ankles and mewled feebly in protest.

"And off you go!" Yang chuckled as she gave the brunette a sharp kick up her
'fesses', sending her shrieking into the ocean. After a couple of seconds, the
rope tensed up, and for the rest of the trip, the sobbing girl was dragged in
the boat's frothy white wake, parting the surface of the water with her naked
chest and flailing arms.

An hour later, Sun yelled over the edge of the boat: "You OK back there, you
treacherous skank?"

"Mppffgghhhhh!!!!" the poker queen replied, her mouth clogged with seaweed and
jellyfish. Even the ocean must have been bent on punishing the little
Frenchwoman for her shameless perfidies that day, because it seemed like every
sea creature in sight had decided to latch on to poor Marion's luscious body:
two giant crabs were dangling from her large brown nipples, a jellyfish lay
perched on her grimacing face and hair and a swarm of strange fish was
following her closely, nibbling harmlessly (but annoyingly) at her arms and
legs.

"Ah, she'll be fine," Yang reassured her colleague, and they resumed the
voyage without worrying too much about her after that.

***

"So, to recapitulate: Project Eastwind has been recovered. The Claymore
Compound off the coast of the Hebrides has been destroyed along with its
entire stockpile of missiles. Victoria Claymore -- alias Mars -- is safely in
our clutches and ready to be interrogated. The assassin Natasha Lagunova has
been neutralized. I think we can safely declare this particular operation,"
Big Sister slammed her file shut, "a resounding success."

Yang glanced over at a gift basket that stood untouched on Big Sister's desk,
containing a bottle of expensive champagne and some peonies and chrysanthemums
in full bloom. "Compliments from the president?"

"Oh yes, I forgot to say," Big Sister replied. "The president is very pleased.
She wants to thank you in person at a later point -- we'll arrange something
for next week, perhaps."

"And what's this?" Agent Yang spotted a decorative little book next to the
basket and picked it up. It turned out to be a beautifully ornate reprint of
the recently rediscovered Chinese epic poem The Tale of the Three Swords, each
page carefully decorated with florid calligraphy and color illustrations.

"We don't know who that's from," Big Sister replied. "But some pages were
earmarked, and they seemed very appropriate for the occasion."

"I see. Well, I guess only one thing remains now," agent Yang said, smiling as
she handed over the tiny green memory stick to her boss.

"Ah yes, the little firecracker that started it all," Big Sister replied.
"Thank you. You're dismissed, agent Yang."

"Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Fire away."

"What exactly IS Project Eastwind?"

Big Sister's eyes narrowed and she smiled secretively. "Agent Yang, this may
be the Ministry of State Security, but there are some questions that even we
aren't allowed to ask." With those words, she promptly dropped the memory
stick into an envelope, sealed it carefully and deposited it in a security
vault.

Agent Yang nodded, and left the office without another word. As she strode
down the central corridor, she caught a glimpse of the afternoon sun through
the radiant cherry and plum blossoms in the nearby park. When she reached the
exit, she put on her trenchcoat and sunglasses and disappeared anonymously
into the crowds outside -- like a ghost.

THE END