Agent Yang in... Boobraker - Part 1
by T. Prince, tk_prince@hotmail.se
A Chinese secret agent travels the world tracking down an international crime syndicate.


Falling with dizzying speed, the tiny black figure descended through the chill of the lower strato-
sphere and into the soupy heat of the Malaysian night. The sound of the wind in her ears was deafening,
but of course, she was used to it by now. Below her, the jungle spread out like a thick, soggy green 
carpet. She waited until she could make out the contours of the palm trees, and then pulled the string 
in her hand.

*FLOOF!* The parachute billowed up behind her, halting her fall and adjusting her speed to a much
more agreeable pace.

"Agent Yang here," she spoke into her faintly glowing watch. "I've spotted the facility and I'm making
for it as we speak."

"Good work, Yang," an older female voice replied on the other end. "Report back when you've made it 
inside."

"Got it, Big Sister."

Agent Yang switched off her communications device and continued sailing through the night air toward
her target: a glum, black building shaped like a giant box, which was peeking out through the dense
foliage.

She landed gracefully and without a sound on the roof, and detached her parachute. After waiting a
full minute to make sure no one had seen her, the agent snuck across the roof as quietly as she
could -- each step producing only a faint metallic thud -- until she had reached a small annex to
the main building. She then produced a package of circle-shaped black boxes, pulled out four of
them, and placed them in a square-shaped formation onto the metallic roof.

Biting down on her lip, Agent Yang pressed a button on her watch. The four explosive charges detonated
with a moderately loud, but by no means conspicuous, *KA-RAK!* -- creating a small door through which
she could easily descend into the main building.

The agent found herself inside a pitch black storage room, which she illuminated with a flashlight
attached to her headset. The room was full of crates labeled "Heimu Research Facility", many of
which were plastered with health hazard signs.

"Agent Yang again," the agent whispered into her watch. "I'm inside."

"Perfect," Big Sister replied. "Now make for the data room on the bottom floor. The Western terrorists 
have taken over the facility, but they haven't been able to hack the central database... yet. We must 
ensure that they never do. Your objective is to secure the blueprints to Project Eastwind before anyone 
else does, and then to blow up the facility."

"Desperate measures."

"Yes, for a desperate situation. Agent Yang, we're engaged in a cold war with the Western powers,
and any strike against us must be dealt with sternly. Think of the West as our jealous little sister,
who's constantly looking for a way to get the upper hand. Most of the time she won't be a threat,
but every once in a while she goes too far, and needs to be... put back in her place."

"I'm getting a lovely mental image here, please go on."

"I'm talking about spanking, Agent Yang. I'm talking about taking our bratty, spoiled little sibling
over our knee, pulling down her slutty Western underwear and paddling her lily white heinie until she's 
crying her eyes out."

"You know how to get my juices flowing, Big Sister."

"The only juice that should be flowing over there is nitroglycerin... or whatever they put in those
bombs these days. Snap to it, Agent Yang."

"Yes, ma'am."

The agent drew her silenced Beretta and stalked over to the closest door. She let the door slide 
open with a soft groan. Just outside, she spotted two tall enemy sentries, standing with their
backs toward her. Both women were hefty, curvaceous Caucasian women, dressed in the skintight grey
jumpsuits that were characteristic of the Shadowlake Mercenary organization -- the customary
provider of soldiers-for-hire to all shady Western interests. Both were carrying semiautomatics.

It would have been difficult to find a more suitable comparison between agent Yang and her constant
adversaries than this. Here was she -- a slender, short Asian in a black vinyl jumpsuit stalking 
through the darkness, patiently awaiting her precise opportunity to strike -- and there were they
-- two busty, tall Europeans standing spread-legged and confident in the fluorescent light, chatting
away obliviously. 

Still, however striking the physical contrast, agent Yang was not at all intimidated. In fact, it 
was a contrast she had long since become used to, and learned to work to her advantage. It was 
always the same story: Cocky big-titted white girl becomes overconfident, swings heavy and misses 
her target, exposing all her weak spots in the process -- patient, nimble agent Yang swoops in and 
proceeds to whip the white out of her jiggly ass. And there was nothing to suggest that this occasion 
would be any different.

Hearing the noise from the door, the guards swung around. Spotting Yang, their hands immediately
went to their holsters, but the Asian agent was already two somersaults ahead of them -- with
a nimble leap she flied up onto the first guard's shoulders, wrapped her strong calves around the
powerfully-built blonde's neck, and gave them a twist. The guard spiraled off her feet and did
a 360 degree turn mid-air before falling -- unconscious -- chest-first onto the metal floor.

The second guard nervously aimed her gun at the quickly moving target, took a shot and... missed.
A moment later agent Yang had picked up her friend from the floor, swung her through the air a
single time to build up momentum and finally flung her toward her colleague -- a moment later
the unconscious guard collided head-first with her busty friend's abdomen, knocking the wind
out of her and sending her flat on her hefty derriere.

"HELP!! INTRU- Uhhhh..." the guard began, but was knocked unconscious by a blow to the back of her
head by Yang's Beretta.

Not one to waste time, agent Yang promptly grabbed the motionless Westerners by one ankle each
and dragged them into the storage room, where she deposited them head-first into an empty
industrial barrel. Of course, they didn't quite fit inside, but it couldn't be helped -- time
was of the essence. Nevertheless, Yang couldn't help but snap a quick photo of the comical
sight: the inert, well-rounded rumps of the bumbling security guards poking uselessly out
of the same barrel like discarded mannequins.

She sent the photo to Big Sister with the caption: "You said leave no trash, so I just disposed
of it."

After sneaking down half a dozen staircases as quietly as she could, agent Yang reached the
entrance to the data room. She felt the door -- it was locked. She gave the door a couple of
sharp knocks.

"Password?" a voice hissed on the other side.

"Firestorm," agent Yang replied in her best American-accented English.

The door swung open and a tall brunette wearing a Shadowlake combat outfit peeked out suspiciously
-- THWACK!! -- only to be knocked helplessly to the floor when agent Yang dropped butt-first onto
her shoulders from above. The mercenary began to cry out for help but was immediately silenced by
an elbow to the back of her head.

Inside the data room -- a huge circular chamber with computers lining the walls and a central
monitor in the middle -- were only two people: a pair of mousy Malaysian scientists in white lab-
coats. When they saw agent Yang, their initial fear turned to befuddlement.

Agent Yang gestured for them to be silent, and then beckoned them over.

"Th-they took us prisoner, and are tr-trying to make us give them entry to the central d-database, 
but we haven't relented yet," the first scientist stammered, her forehead glimmering with sweat.
"Without our help, they could still get in, b-b-but it would take longer."

"Good work," Yang replied. "We're all indebted to you. I've cleared the passageway to the stair-
case. You should be able to get to the entrance without bumping into anyone. Make sure to get out,
though. This situation might get a bit... incendiary."

The scientists nodded nervously and made their way out of the room. Agent Yang strode over to the
data central and placed the explosives under the main monitor.

Suddenly there was a buzz in her wristwatch, and Big Sister's voice came bursting forth, audibly
distressed.

"Agent Yang, do you read me? We have satellite images of an unidentified vehicle approaching the 
facility at an alarming speed. Do you have the blueprints!?"

"I'm downloading them as we speak, Big Sister," agent Yang replied, her eyes glued to the rapidly
expanding bar in the center of the screen. "How much time do I have?"

"Minutes, agent Yang, minutes. No wait... there was a lag in our satellite imagery! Turns out...
you should be expecting them right-"

SLAM!!

"-now..."

Agent Yang twirled around, stealthily swiping the memory stick and putting it in her pocket. Half
a dozen Shadowlake mercenaries were standing near the entrance, aiming their laser pointers straight
at agent Yang's heart. Also, the clickety-clack of an additional pair of combat boots alerted her to the 
presence of another person.

"And so the trap snaps shut," a silky voice with an unidentifiable Northern European accent came
floating forth, "and the fox has nowhere to run."

An apparition of whiteness came gliding past the guards and into the light. It was a tall, statuesque
blonde dressed entirely in white: white boots, white gloves and a white latex jumpsuit that hugged every
curve of her strikingly voluptuous body. Her exotic pale blond hair hung in a thick ponytail that
reached down to the small of her back, and her eyes were as frosty and blue as a sheet of solid ice.

"Think I might have just gone snowblind," agent Yang grunted after eyeing the blonde from head to toe.

"Save your quips, agent Yang," the blonde purred as she stood, legs confidently apart, burrowing
her eyes into her foe. Standing so close to her, it finally occured to agent Yang whom the woman 
reminded her of.

"Has anyone ever told you that you bear an unnerving resemblance to that blond singer in ABBA in her
heyday, whats-her-name..."

The blonde's face darkened. "Yes... people have, but that's not important right now. Now, agent Yang, 
I suppose you've planted a bomb somewhere around here and we're all only a trigger away from being 
blown to smithereens, am I right?

"Suppose I have?"

"All right, suppose you have. Now suppose I wanted you to hand over the blueprints to Project Eastwind
before anyone -- and I'm thinking of a very particular 'anyone' -- got hurt, would you oblige me, or
would I have to-"

THWACK!! "Oof!!"

"-punch you in the gut repeatedly until you do?"

Agent Yang toppled to her knees and felt ready to throw up. Boy, could that blond bunny throw a punch!
The whole room was spinning around her, and there seemed to be at least three pairs of slender white
legs hovering in front of her.

"That's where I thought you put it," the blonde smiled coolly as she squatted beside agent Yang and
reached into her back pocket. Agent Yang became acutely aware of the sensation that she had lost some-
thing, before her world came crashing back into focus and she realized that she had flubbed the mission.

"I'm afraid I can't let you take that," she mumbled as she stood up on shaky legs.

"I'm afraid you could, and I just did," the blonde replied with an icy smile. "Now if you excuse me-"

The blonde pressed a button on the side of the monitor table. A massive hum began to vibrate through
the room, and the next moment the entire back wall began to divide itself in two parts and slide
open, providing an exit into the humid Malaysian night.

While her enemy's attention was directed elsewhere, agent Yang took her chance. She lunged forward
and grabbed hold of the blonde's hand, spun around, and flung her over her shoulder Judo-style. The
blonde, however, was prepared and landed skillfully on her feet.

"An Asian doing Judo? Don't be a clich?," the blonde chuckled sultrily as she drew a tiny silver-
plated gun and took aim at her foe. The guards near the entrance had refrained from firing out of fear
of hitting their boss, but were now closing in on all sides.

The blonde fired -- but not after agent Yang had delivered a stinging knife-hand to her wrist, bending
the pistol upwards and causing her to hit the ceiling.

"If it works, why change it?" Yang fired back, before returning the blonde's favor with a paralyzing
punch to her midsection. The blonde gasped and doubled over, enabling agent Yang to put her arm in
a lock and wield the Caucasian in front of herself like a human shield.

"OK, listen up," she addressed the mercenaries, who were observing the spectacle with horror. "I
have the fastest reflexes of anyone employed in the Asian intelligence services. If you take a shot,
even when it seems like my back is turned, I guarantee you that the only thing that'll happen is
that one of blondie's tits ends up looking like a Swiss cheese. Now, all I'm asking for is- OOOWW!!
DAMMIT!!"

The blonde had abruptly escaped her entrapment by reversing the armlock, giving her a window to
headbutt her captor and secure her freedom. The headbutt had sent agent Yang sprawling on her back,
and she watched as the blonde stepped nonchalantly over her body in the direction of the exit.

What happened next happened extremely fast. The blonde activated a mechanism around her ankles,
igniting two tiny blue jet flames that sent her rocketing upwards until she was hovering about
three feet up in the air. Agent Yang, hearing the clicks of six machine guns snapping into action,
aimed her wristwatch at the blonde and pressed a button, firing off a slender metal rope that
caught hold of the blonde's ankle, causing her to wobble mid-air but not lose her balance. Finally,
just as the laser pointers gathered one by one onto Yang's supine body, she pressed an additional
button on her wristwatch, triggering the bomb.

In an instant, the data room had become enveloped in a massive and quickly growing ball of flame.
Panicking, the jet-propulsed blonde made a beeline for the exit, dragging the Asian agent along
the floor with her until they had both departed the building -- one flying and the other hanging limply
below her.

Agent Yang craned her head backwards and caught a glimpse of the fiery inferno enveloping the ruins 
of the Heimu Research Facility. 'Damn, these new remote explosives are potent,' she thought to
herself, before turning back to find that the blonde was aiming a pistol at her.

"You're a hard one to get rid of, aren't you?" the blonde yelled, looking over her shoulder with mock
surprise. "Guess I'm going to have to deal with you once and for all!"

She cocked her pistol and took aim. Agent Yang, caught between a rock and a hard place, instinctively
detached the metal wire. The shot whistled above her head, while she began a heart-stopping plunge
down into the heart of the Malaysian jungle.

As she tumbled through the air, she caught an errant glimpse of the blonde -- now ascending un-
encumbered into the tropical clouds. Crying out the codeword for her voice-activated eye-camera,
she took a snapshot of the white dot, before the clouds rendered it completely invisible.

Having done what she could, agent Yang could only wait and steel herself for the oncoming crash
into the jungle canopy.

***

"Agent Yang," a voice on the telecom announced coolly. "Big Sister is ready to see you now."

Big Sister's office was a hypermodern glass room on the top floor of the Ministry of State Security.
The stylish white space curved into a semi-space at the far end, providing a panoramic view of
central Beijing, with the myriad curved roofs of the Forbidden City peeking up just beyond Tianan-
men Square.

Big Sister, a prim, matronly woman in her early 50s, stood up to welcome the newly arrived agent.

"Ah, I'm pleased that you could get here so quickly," she said, flashing a quick smile and extending
her hand. "How's the shoulder?"

"Nothing to worry about," agent Yang replied nonchalantly. "I've taken worse falls just for fun."

"I'm not surprised. Now then, agent, as you're no doubt aware, the last mission was a bit of a flop, 
leaving us with some rather good and some rather bad news. The good news is that the blueprints are 
encrypted, which means that whoever had them stolen will have a hard time accessing them in their 
current form. The bad news is that there are several people in the world that they could look to for 
help."

"I see," agent Yang said, looking visibly ashamed.

"I'm sure you do. But we'll do our best to track down the hackers in question -- before someone else 
does. For you, I have other tasks. What can you tell me about the woman who stole the blueprints?"

"Tall. Blond. Blue eyes. Whiter than a polar bear in a snowstorm. Looks like that singer from ABBA, 
whatshername..."

"Anything more specific?"

"Well, I got a picture of her, but I don't know how good it'll turn out..."

"That's for us to decide, agent Yang."

Agent Yang was right: there was very little on that photo to identify the mysterious woman who had
carried out the dastardly scheme. Taken from almost exactly below, the only thing visible were two
legs -- fuzzy from the heat coming off the jet flames -- an unusually curvaceous rear end, and a
flash of blond hair whirling in the wind.

"Sorry about that," agent Yang murmured.

"Oh, agent Yang, I can tell you're not up to date with the latest developments in technology..."

Big Sister initiated a command on her keyboard, bringing up a screen that said: "ACTIVATE BODY
RECOGNITION SOFTWARE >YES >NO", followed by a loading screen. Almost instantly, the picture was
magnified and smoothed-out to near-perfect resolution, whilst a number of green lines began to
align themselves across the pictured rear end, and data rolled across the screen in quick
succession:

BODY PART: Buttocks
GENDER: Female
BODY SHAPE: Voluptuous
AGE: 27-33
ETHNICITY: Caucasian
STATUS: Healthy, peak fitness

IDENTIFICATION RESULTS: Accessing world buttock database...

"Holy shit, we've got a butt database?"

"We're the Ministry of State Security, agent Yang. If it can be seen or heard or smelled, we have 
the tools to analyze it."

Presently, the results came up on the screen, accompanied by a picture:

NAME: Ulrika Antonia Weiss
SEX/SEXUALITY: Female/straight
NATIONALITY: Austrian/Danish
OCCUPATION: Retired field operative (reason for withdrawal: rogue activities)
ALLEGIANCE: Unknown
THREAT LEVEL: Unknown
KNOWN ASSOCIATES: Laura Li

"There's our mystery butt," Big Sister said. "Friend of Laura Li's, eh? Why am I not surprised?"

"Does this mean I'm going to have another check-in with the Femme Fatale of Macau?" Agent Yang
asked.

"You bet. But not in Macau this time." Big Sister showed her the latest satellite photo, with the
circled figure of Laura Li shown walking in the middle of a crowd on a perfect white beach. "Rio
de Janeiro."

"Splendid," agent Yang replied with a smirk. "I'll pack my two-piece."

"It's not a vacation, agent Yang," Big Sister reprimanded her. "Before you go, please check in
with Meiyang for some new... equipment."

"Sounds like a vacation to me," agent Yang chuckled as she exited Big Sister's office and stepped
into the stylish glass elevator.

***

Meiyang, the Ministry's top weapons researcher, greeted Yang on the bottom floor in her customary
lab coat and goggles. Her unruly hair and maniacally restless eyes always made Yang think of a
scientist villainess from a comic book, but of course, she would never say that to her face.

"So what have you got for me this time, Meimei?" the agent asked with a hint of jockish arrogance
in her voice, secretly enjoying her physical advantage over this egghead.

"Well, I was planning to make you a double-barreled rocket launcher that could double as a surfboard, 
but the design was vetoed by the higher-ups," the inventor muttered with audible annoyment. "Something
about 'needless expenses' and 'public safety hazard' or whatnot."

"They don't deserve your genius, Meiyang."

"I know, right? So I had to settle for the old evergreens with a few updates. Take these X-ray
sunglasses, for instance -- they can see through clothes of all materials, as usual, but I added
a special function."

Yang donned the sunglasses and fixed her gaze at a mannequin in the center of the room, wearing a
trenchcoat. Instantly, the trenchcoat dissipated from Yang's field of vision, exposing the plastic
doll's lacy red underwear and hidden pistols to her gaze.

"What's the special function?"

"Body analysis," the inventor exclaimed. "Pull down the additional lenses and you'll see."

The agent clicked down the second pair of lenses, and turned her gaze on the inventor. This time
-- in addition to the discovery that the woman was wearing yellow underwear with pink bears for some
reason -- she was greeted with a series of ever-changing data revealing all kinds of information
about the target, from her height, weight and body temperature to what perfume she was wearing (none)
and when she last showered (several days ago).

"Impressive," agent Yang conceded. "But is this really something I need?"

"Information, agent Yang, is the most important resource you'll ever acquire. No information is
trivial. Now, take a look at this little wonder -- I call it the Marilyn, for reasons that will
soon become clear."

The inventor produced a tiny metallic object in the shape of a pyramid -- small enough to hide
under a belt or even inside a human ear. She tossed it onto the floor and pressed a button on
her monitor. The next moment, a massive gust of wind came bursting out of the top of the pyramid,
causing everything within a three foot radius -- pens, shoelaces and even articles of clothing
-- to blow upwards several feet into the air.

"Fun," agent Yang declared with an approving nod, "what else do you have?"

"Be patient, agent Yang. Cigarette?" the inventor produced a nondescript package from her pocket 
and fished out a cigarette. "You light them, suck in some air and then..." Suddenly, a cascade of
flame erupted from Meiyang's mouth, extending to a distance of almost five feet and setting
the mannequin's clothes ablaze. "Pandemonium!"

Agent Yang received the package and placed it in her chest pocket. "You really should see some
help, Meimei."

"Well, you know what they say: there's a fine line between genius and insanity!" The inventor 
placed her hand to her throat and coughed up a ring of sick-looking black smoke.

"Exactly," agent Yang replied, before turning around to leave.

***

Carnival in Rio. The streets were alive with rainbow color, twirling feather boas, brilliant bird
costumes, the grinning faces of hundreds of different mythological beasts of ancient origin, as 
well as countless half-naked well-tanned bodies spinning through the hot yellow light. On the roof 
of a palatial Neo-colonial hotel, a different party was taking place -- thirty floors above everyone 
else -- for a different clientele: wealthy politicians, drug lords, businessmen and a great number 
of distinguished international visitors.

Agent Yang, dressed in a sleek black cocktail dress, stepped out of the elevator and was immediately
stopped by a burly security guard. Feigning impatience, she flashed her ID card.

"My apologies, Ambassador Yee," the security guard hastily stammered, "You're expected, of course."

Having dispensed with the tricky part, Yang surveyed the premises. The roof was crowded with men and
women of all nationalities, most of them either near the stylish neon bar or over by the railing,
overlooking the carnival.

A tall, elegant blonde in a dazzling silver gown bumped into her from behind, causing her to drop her 
complementary drink on the floor. The woman turned around with a look of affected shock, apologetically 
placing her hand on Yang's shoulder.

"I'm *so* sorry," the woman said in a strong Northern European accent. "Was it empty or were you 
serving someone?"

"Excuse me?" agent Yang asked, her eyes fluttering in disbelief.

"The drink. Were you serving a customer or bringing an empty glass back to the bar?"

Agent Yang's eyes darkened. "I'm not a waitress. I'm here as a customer, just like you."

"Oh, all right," the blonde said dismissively. "Well, I'll get someone to write a check. Ragnar! Where's
Ragnar?"

Yang, however, had already walked away, finding it hard to stifle a blush from the humiliation. On
her way to the bar, she encountered a familiar face: an attractive, lively-eyed redhead wearing a
long cream-colored party dress that left a generous portion of her cleavage on display. The redhead
stopped, inspecting Yang with her curious green eyes whilst taking a sip from her hot pink cocktail.

"Hello, agent Yang, MSS," she purred in a sultry whisper.

"Hello, agent Bowen, MI-6," Yang replied, putting on a smile. "I can only guess why you are here."

"Please, miss Yang, you didn't think the British secret service would be slow to draw conclusions based
on the latest news from Malaysia, did you?" Jane Bowen stirred her drink slowly with her little parasol.
"A research facility blows up... Shadowlake vehicles have been spotted near the premises... We intercept 
transmissions to your agency... something interesting is happening, clearly."

"And you, clever girl, decided to hightail it over to Rio because whatever it is, it probably involves
Laura Li, is that right?" Yang replied, finding herself involuntarily captivated by the British agent's
toxic-looking drink. "For once, you seem to have drawn the right conclusion."

"Condescension doesn't suit you, miss Yang -- I'd have thought that thirty years of slaving for a Communist
regime would at least have worn down your ego."

"Poor Jane Bowen, always in second place and whining about it." Yang smirked. "Speaking of Laura Li,
have you seen her around?"

"She went to the bathroom to powder her nose. Which means you have a minute or two more to chat with
your new friend back there." She nodded toward the haughty blond woman, who was laughing loudly at someone's
joke.

"No thanks, I've had enough of her already. Know who it is?"

Jane Bowen chuckled and took a sip of her drink. "Princess Lovisa of Norway, of course. I take it you
don't read the tabloids? She's notorious for partying and raising hell in countries outside of her own."

"Good thing some countries got rid of the monarchy," Yang replied with a smirk. "Who needs princesses?"

"Careful or I'm going to have to give you a lesson on behalf of Her Majesty herself."

"Please, don't get your panties in a twist," Yang said as she flipped down her sunglasses over her eyes
and walked away. "Which happen to be cerise, by the way -- and pretty cute on you."

Jane Bowen froze as she pondered the last comment. She inspected her clothing for damage or tears, but
mysteriously enough, couldn't find any.

Over by the railing, Yang had spotted the familiar figure of Laura Li. The femme fatale, wearing a night-
black dress, stood overlooking the city with her back turned to the party -- one hand clutching a long,
smoldering cigarette holder.

"We meet again, agent Yang," she said, turning around slowly. Laura Li was drop dead gorgeous -- one of
the most beautiful women Yang had seen -- but there was always a sinister undercurrent in her voice
and behind those intelligent dark eyes that made Yang instinctively not want to get in too deep in with 
her. "I can guess who you're looking for."

"Will you tell me anything about her?"

"Maybe." Laura Li smiled enigmatically. "What's in it for me?"

"Name your price."

"Oh, agent Yang, you know that I'm not interested in being bought. I'd much rather you did something
for me... in return for the information."

"What did you have in mind?"

Laura Li sucked on her cigarette and exhaled a long silvery plume into the evening air. "I will tell
you, after you agree to the arrangement."

Yang pondered the deal. From experience, she knew Laura Li wasn't kidding -- if she didn't agree to
perform the mystery task, there was no chance in hell she would get what she needed. Also, she liked to 
believe that the femme fatale liked her enough by now to at least cut her a decent deal...

"I'll do it." Agent Yang smiled a strained smile. "Now... talk."

Laura Li looked satisfied. "Ulrika Weiss... Cute broad. Nordic type. Got those exotic blue eyes and an ass 
you just want to oil up, season well and gobble up for lunch. She got in bed with me once in exchange for 
some information. Not exactly worth it -- she's not that impressive in bed -- but I did get to find out what 
that fine ass tastes like. Tasted like... butter with a tang of raspberries."

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard," Yang replied, putting a hand to her forehead. "Get to the
point, you lunatic."

"After going renegade, she worked as a freelancer for a couple of years before she was employed full time by
a syndicate. An international group so secret you probably haven't even heard of them yet, but you can bet
your ass they know everything about you."

"Tell me more."

"Wish I could," Laura Li pulled out a silver lighter shaped as a dragon and lit a new cigarette, the flame
causing her face to flash up in a menacing orange glow. "But even my feelers have their limits. This 
organization operates like a strict hierarchy, with a labyrinthine system of secrecy that means even their 
own members don't know who the leaders are. But the scope of this thing is unbelievable -- and if you add 
the Shadowlake mercs that make up the foot soldier portion, you get an organization big enough to control 
a medium-sized country."

"Just give me one name that I can pin something on. No renegades, no mystery people -- a solid name that I
can work myself upwards from."

"Sorry, babe," Laura Li shook her head. "But I'll tell you one thing about them: the seven people at the
top govern the group like an oligarchy -- although some of them still carry more clout than the others,
as is usually the case. They're known by their codenames: each person is named after a planet, so there's
Mercury, Venus, Mars..."

"And Ulrika Weiss?"

"Waaaaaay down the hierarchy. An asteroid, at best. That's the size of this thing, if you can believe it."

"Speaking of Snow White, I suppose you're about to tell me she's skipped off to Antarctica."

Laura Li smiled, her face half-obscured by the shadow of the night. "Suppose I were to tell you she's
right here. In this very hotel."

Agent Yang felt an icy thrill pass through her body. She had what she needed, all right. "You're kidding."

"Room 808," Laura Li smirked, letting her eyes travel up and down Yang's body. "By the way, where would one 
fit a gun into that snug little dress of yours?"

"None of your business," Yang replied coolly. "Anyway, I was planning to stay out of trouble tonight."

"Then you're investigating the wrong international crime syndicate," Laura Li cocked her forehead, indicating
company. "'cause they've found you already."

Agent Yang spun around on her heel just in time to dodge a knife, plunge her fist into the gut of the assailant,
and judo-flip her onto her back. The attacker -- a tall, curvy woman in a tuxedo and a black carnival mask --
quickly scrambled to her feet and tried again, but this time Yang snatched her knife-wielding hand mid-air
and twisted it around, causing the woman to drop her knife with a angry, low-pitched shriek.

The other guests on the roof terrace were forming a semicircle around the brawl, most of them looking shocked
while a few were visibly amused. Yang spotted a second assailant making her way through the crowd, pointing 
a gleaming SMG over the shoulder of an innocent bystander. Thinking on her feet, Yang grabbed a handful of 
"Marilyns" and threw them like dice toward the company of gawking party guests. The little pyramids rolled 
off in all directions, disappearing under high-heeled shoes and long flowing dresses.

Agent Yang pressed a button on her watch, activating the tiny machines, and suddenly the whole floor appeared
to have been turned into a giant fan. Skirts and dresses were blown up in their wearers' faces, exposing 
panties, thongs and g-strings in every direction, and creating a flurry of panic and confusion that caught 
the masked markswoman off guard. The gusts quickly intensified to the degree that some women's dresses were 
actually blown completely off their bodies, and others fell flat on their backs in the turmoil.

"Cools the ankles, doesn't it?" Yang chirped in the assailant's ear, having materialized behind her during all
the commotion. A second later, she rammed her knee up the assassin's crotch, mangling her privates with an
audible crunch and sending her toppling forward on her knees with an anguished moan. She then proceeded to pick
her up the masked henchwoman by her collar and the seat of her trousers, walk up to the railing and dump her
unceremoniously over the edge.

The shrieking assassin fell thirty floors before landing face first in a dumpster, where her fall was buffeted
by a stinking mix of food waste, dead rats and old condoms.

When she saw what had just happened to her colleague, the second assassin began a daring impromptu escape, first
firing a grappling hook onto the opposite building and then attempting to slide down the rope towards freedom.
Agent Yang, however, was not about to let her off that easily. In the blink of an eye, she had produced her
Beretta, aimed the gun at the grappling hook, and dislodged it from its hold with a single shot. The henchwoman
was sent flying into the dark alley, where the diagonal trajectory of her fall caused her to collide head-on
with a brick wall -- the unyielding surface flattening her round boobs to pancakes against her breastbone.

An "ooohhh" passed through the portion of the guests who had remained behind to watch, in spite of their various
wardrobe malfunctions. After a couple of seconds, the assassin dislodged herself from the wall and fell motion-
less into the same dumpster that her friend had been consigned to. The vibration of her impact caused the lid
to slam shut over the humiliated assassins, trapping them with the rest of the evening's discarded trash.

Yang looked around for Laura Li, but the femme fatale had evaporated into thin air. Fearing more unpleasant
company, Yang decided to exit the roof party by climbing down the rope that the assassin had left hanging
from the railing until she had descended about ten floors, at which point she kicked in a random window and
came rolling into a stranger's room.

It didn't take her long to navigate her way to room 808. Placing her ear to the door, she discerned a series
of discreet noises that seemed to suggest a person picking up or dragging around various items as quickly
and quietly as possible.

Putting on her best Portuguese accent, she cleared her throat, knocked on the door and cried in a chipper
voice: "Room service, miss!"

The noises on the other end of the door subsided. There was no answer.

"I said ROOM SERVICE, bitch!" she yelled, kicking in the door and rushing inside with her Beretta at the
ready.

The room was empty, and the only window had been left wide open. The curtains were rippling violently in
the wind, and eight floors below, Yang heard the noise of an engine revving up and the shrieking tires
of a sports car tearing through the streets at maximum speed.

There was no time to lose.

Already hearing the steps of the next batch of assassins approaching the doorway behind her, agent Yang
dove headfirst out of the window, grabbed hold of the windowsill and fell flat against the wall just
in time to avoid a salvo of machine gun fire emanating from the hotel room she had just left. She
descended the outer wall floor by floor by dropping from each windowsill to the one just below it,
eventually reaching the parking space at the bottom.

Looking around, her eyes fell on a white Ferrari that was just entering the parking alley, with a
young, stylish and rather inebriated-looking brunette behind the steering wheel.

"T-U-C-A-N Hotel, yep, sheemsh about right- what the hell?" the woman slurred when a strange Asian in a 
cocktail dress came rushing toward her windshield waving her hands in the air.

"STOP THE CAR, YOU'LL RUN OVER MY FLUFFERS!! FLUFFERS, DON'T MOVE, MY BABY, I'LL GET A VET RIGHT 
AWAY!!"

"Oh fuck, I didn't hit your dog, did I?" the driver asked, exiting the Ferrari with wobbly steps.
"I mean it really is dark as shit in this place- hold on, whatheFUCKAREYOUDOING!!!"

The Ferrari made a brisk U-turn and swished past the brunette so close that it sent her falling on
her ass. As the car made a sharp turn and tore down the street, a faint but not insincere "sorry!"
came echoing back in its wake.

Agent Yang zigzagged through the dense Rio traffic, keeping her eyes fixed on the tiny red dot
receding in the distance. All around her, other drivers were sounding their horns and screaming 
curse words at her, but that wasn't important -- she'd keep nailing down that gas pedal until Snow 
White was securely in her grasp.

"Hey skinny," Laura Li's voice suddenly buzzed into her ear over the intercom. "I never told you
what your task was gonna be."

"I don't have time, Laura, and how the hell did you get on my intercom anyway?" Yang snapped,
turning abruptly to avoid hitting a swearing pedestrian in a feathered dragon suit.

The intercom buzzed and a new voice replaced Laura Li's husky whispering.

"Agent Yang, what's happening? Status report, please!" Big Sister's voice barked in her ear.

"I'm on her ass, Big Sis," Yang replied, "I'll explain later. Bye!"

Suddenly, she spotted a familiar presence in her rear view mirror: Agent Bowen, bent low over a 
gleaming black Honda motorcycle, was closing in on her. The British agent's ginger tresses were
streaming in the air behind her, and her green eyes were narrowed into a determined squint.

Agent Yang made a hand gesture which she hoped would translate into "piss off". Jane Bowen,
however, only smirked and pulled out her PPK, aimed it carefully -- and shot out both of Yang's
back tires in quick succession.

"Bitch!" Yang hissed as she skidded off to the side and began to lose speed dramatically.

Agent Bowen sailed past her, her long cream-colored dress fluttering in the air behind her. Yang
watched her go as she skidded to a clumsy stop and got out of the Ferrari, seething with anger.

Police sirens alerted her to the delayed presence of the law. Sure enough, less than a minute
later, two police motorcycles pulled up behind her -- two curvy Brazilian hot cops dressed in
grey and black, their eyes hidden behind huge bug-like sunglasses.

"Heey, whaddideyedo?" Yang slurred in her best drunk impersonation. The cops immediately relaxed
their posture, realizing that they were up against nothing more than a common drunk, and stepped
off their motorbikes.

Yang staggered off toward a railing and pretended to be ready to throw up. When the cops approached
her, however, she rebounded with a blistering roundhouse kick that struck both officers squarely in
their chins -- sending them flying five feet back and landing on their well-rounded rear ends.

"Sorry about this, but I'm really in a hurry," Yang mumbled as she cuffed the cops with their own
handcuffs and left them piled up on top of each other by the side of the street. Leaping on top
of the closest motorbike and speeding away like a bullet, Yang began to think of ways to make up
for lost time. Observing the curvature of the approaching motorway, she deduced that it would
be possible to make a diagonal shortcut through the nearby slums and close in on the margin...

***

Jane Bowen thundered down the highway, watching the red dot in front of her like a hawk closing
in on a sparrow. She was on a high from outsmarting agent Yang, and her night appeared to be
only getting better, until...

*CRUNK!!*

The ragged noise of something grazing her back tire alerted her to the presence of someone else.
Looking over her shoulder, Jane discovered with horror that not only was agent Yang riding only
inches behind her, but the Chinese agent was currently in the process of climbing across the
dashboard of her motorcycle and seating herself behind her!

"Miss me?" Yang chuckled, placing her arm around Jane's waist.

Jane made a desperate attempt to elbow Yang out of her seat, but missed -- and lost her only
chance. Yang reached down and cupped her hands around the British agent's round, inviting
buttocks, and proceeded to give her a heave -- sending the redhead squealing over the dashboard
and ending up in a nightmare position: she suddenly found herself splayed across the front of
the motorbike like some twisted ship's figurehead, her hands still gripping the handlebars, her
jiggling bosom jutting out and her legs extended outwards to prevent them from scraping against 
the tarmac.

"AIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" the British agent squealed as she found herself fighting a constant
struggle to keep all her limbs off the horrifically fast-moving tarmac, while also doing her
best -- but failing -- to avoid burning her precariously-located butt on the front tire.

"Payback's a bitch, you devious MI-6 weasel!" Yang laughed as she accelerated even more.

Pretty soon, agent Bowen's dress caught stuck in the front wheel and was ripped straight off her
body, leaving her in a tight cerise bra that could barely contain her perky, violently jiggling 
breasts and a pair of matching panties.

"Told ya they were cerise!" Yang chuckled triumphantly.

"I'LL GIVE YOU -- AIIIEEE!!! -- ALL THE INFORMATION YOU NEED -- OOOHHH!! -- PLEASE LET ME OFF!!!" 
the agent shrieked as the front tire sporadically grazed her panty-clad bum, leaving angry red 
marks on her chalk white ass cheeks.

"Oh but Janie, what could the MI-6 know that I don't already?" agent Yang replied with a tsk-tsk
sound. "I just want to make sure your meddling British arse stays out of my investigation, and
I think I know how to do it."

When they reached a bend in the highway -- overlooking a steep slope and a huge ad sign depicting
a nervous pale woman and the text "WANT TO AVOID LOOKING LIKE THIS ON THE BEACH? BUY CALIENTE
INSTA-TAN TODAY!" -- agent Yang suddenly pulled the brakes. The sudden drop in speed sent the
redhead soaring through the sky and crashing into the sign, right through the nervous woman's 
face.

Agent Yang took five seconds to admire her handiwork: without the picture of the woman, the text
now appeared to be referring to Jane Bowen's disembodied backside and dangling legs -- a wickedly
appropriate joke given the striking pallor of the advertised piece of English rump.

"See you around, Janie!" Yang shouted to the wiggling white ass, before setting off toward the more 
valuable target.

***

Ten minutes later, on the outskirts of Rio, Yang finally spotted Ulrika Weiss' red Dodge Viper,
which at this point had swerved off the road and was plowing its own way through a nearby field.
About half a mile away, a very large military plane had landed, and two servicemen were currently
opening a door big enough to fit the car.

Shit, Yang thought as she accelerated to maximum speed, transforming her close surroundings to a
shapeless, angry blur. It was obvious that someone on the plane had spotted her, because the air-
craft had suddenly began to move, rolling forward in preparation for take-off. Meanwhile, Ulrika
was slowing down as she prepared to board the aircraft.

"Not... yet... you... bitch!!" Yang cried through gritted teeth as she thundered down the field,
closing in on the red sports car.

Ulrika Weiss slowed down to a manageable speed as the extendable ramp leading down from the air-
craft came into view. The servicemen had pulled out submachine guns and were covering her with
random sprays of gunfire, but Yang dodged the salvos by zig-zagging nimbly through the field.

The red Dodge Viper bounced off a bump in the ground and landed on the ramp just as the aircraft
took off from the ground. 

For a single second, agent Yang had a flash vision of herself as a gambler, dressed up in a tux,
facing Ulrika Weiss on the other side of a poker table. The Chinese agent stared down at her hand
-- three jacks, two sevens -- and looked over at her blond opponent, who was grinning from ear to 
ear behind her wager of six million pounds sterling. This is it, she thought, the bet-it-all moment. 
Without a moment's hesitation, she not only met the bet, chip for chip, but doubled it.

Back in reality, Yang stood up on her motorcycle, pressed a button on her wristwatch and fired off a
long, slender metal wire toward the receding aircraft. The wire attached itself to the tailpipe of
Ulrika Weiss' red Dodge Viper just as Yang braked her motorbike and bent it down along the ground
for leverage. During five agonizing seconds, the sports car and the motorbike were engaged in a
furious tug-of-war -- the Dodge Viper fighting up the ramp and the Honda motorbike dragging stubbornly
along the ground, tearing up dust, grass and mud in the ferocious fight.

"You're not getting away from me this time!!" Yang shrieked to the blonde as the motorbike beneath her
creaked and wheezed from the immense pull.

Finally, the stalemate was resolved -- the ramp broke clean off. As the aircraft ascended into the sky,
the sports car toppled backward into the air and made three full loops through the air on the way to
the ground. Ulrika Weiss barely had time to scamper away on all fours before the car went up in a
ball of flame, incinerating the bottom half of the blonde's ponytail as she dove to safety.

When the pilot noticed what had happened, she began to turn the aircraft around, but her plans were
foiled by a squadron of military helicopters bearing down on her for violating Brazilian airspace.
After a moment of indecision, the plane swerved back on course and disappeared out over the ocean.

"Over here, Snow White," agent Yang called to her prey as the latter looked around for an escape route.
"You're coming with me."

"Eat my lead, you filthy commie!" Ulrika cried, pulling out her silver-plated pistol and aiming it at
her foe, only to discover that -- *click* -- the gun had jammed during the explosion.

Agent Yang had a similar revelation, drawing her Beretta only to find that mud had leaked into the
machinery and rendered it inoperable.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to settle our issues the old-fashioned way," Yang chirped, tossing the
gun over her shoulder.

"Come at me then, you slanty-eyed midget," Ulrika spat, putting up her fists with a smile, "you're
only up against Northern Europe's grand champion of women's boxing three years in a row!"

"The only boxing that'll happen here tonight will be when I put your ass in a box and mail it to
the Ministry of State Security." Yang smiled. "Tell me, how many stamps will I need? It looks pretty
hefty, if I may say so myself..."

"It'll seem even 'heftier' when it's sitting on your face, you cocky little shit!"

"Not if I get to pound a couple of thousand calories out of it first, you overconfident bimbo!"

And so the fight was on. The Asian agent put up her fists and began to circle her opponent, staying
on the defensive with the intention of wearing her enemy out before moving in for the K.O. However,
this proved more difficult than she had planned. Miss Weiss was not only a hard-hitter, but she was
fast -- and Yang quickly found herself more exhausted from defending herself against the oncoming blows
than she would have been if she had gone on the offense.

"You're going down, Noodles!" Ulrika yelled as she executed a flawless scissor kick that left Yang's
hands pulsating with pain from parrying the attack.

"Tough chance, Barbie!" Agent Yang retorted and tried to clock her aggressive opponent with an uppercut,
but the punch missed badly and left her almost entirely exposed for whatever was to come next.

"Gotcha!" The blond bad girl grabbed hold of Yang's wrist mid-air and twisted it like a wet rag -- sending
spasms of horrific pain through the Asian girl's upper body.

"UNNNGGGHHHH!!!" Agent Yang moaned from the pain, but Ulrika was far from done. When she had twisted her
opponent's arm around so thoroughly that there was little feeling left in it, she raised up the limp arm
into the air before slamming it -- elbow first -- into the sharp tip of her outstretched knee.

*CRACK!* "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIEEEE!!!!" the Chinese agent wailed as the blow dislocated her elbow. She
fell to her knees with a faint moan, in the moment feeling as though every joint in her arm had been 
pulverized.

"Right arm goes bye bye," Ulrika chuckled as she circled her kneeling opponent. "I guess this is the
moment you tell me that you're actually left-handed."

"As a matter of fact," Yang grunted between clenched teeth, "I'm ambidextrous!"

With an errant surge of kamikaze energy, she lunged forward and tackled the smug villainess across her
ankles, sending her toppling over like a bowling pin and landing face down in the mud with a satisfying
SPLAT!

As the blonde pulled herself back up on wobbly legs, agent Yang took a firm hold of her dislocated elbow
and channeled all her courage and determination into a Herculean effort -- *CRACK!* "ARRRRGGGHHHHHHH!!"
-- and a second later, her elbow was working as normal (although still hurting like hell).

"That was a dirrrr-ty move," Ulrika purred as she wiped the mud from her face and affected a confident
smile. "Guess you're not as well-behaved as you look."

"I'm a spy, blondie," Yang grunted, flexing her sore arm. "Dirt is my home turf."

Once again, the Asian agent lunged forward and tacked the voluptuous villainess in the gut, sending
her flat on her back in the mud again. The two women grabbed on to each other like beasts engaged in
some primal struggle and began to roll back and forth in the dirt and mud, staining each other's
clothes and grinding each other's features into the ground.

Eventually, however, brute strength won out and Ulrika ended up on top, pinning Yang down with her
formidable ass whilst raining down punches onto her face.

"Nighty night, sweetcheeks!" the white tigress cackled as she beat her opponent's face from left to
right and back again with her mud-stained fists, leaving bruises all over her cheeks, lips and fore-
head.

When Yang's face had taken so many punches that she could barely open her eyes, Ulrika paused to
catch her breath. The villainess' face and hair were soaked in sweat, but her blue eyes were glowing 
with sadistic enjoyment and she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Any last words?" the buxom tormentress asked, burrowing her icy gaze into Yang's half-closed eyes.

"Yeah, Thank You for the Music, bitch!"

With those words, she plunged her knee into the cleft of the villainess' round backside, pushing
her forward so that she landed on all fours with her butt in the air. With the speed of a cobra,
Yang freed her right hand and grabbed the surprised blonde by the groin, seizing up her soft, 
unprotected womanhood in an iron grip.

The blonde's icy gaze suddenly turned misty with alarm, and now it was Yang's turn to smile with
sadistic pleasure. Finally she had this naughty Western tart by the cooch and she was not going to
let her off until she had squeezed every bit of enjoyment out of her big, pink plushy body.

"The Winner Takes It All!"

She gave the white girl's privates a sharp twist. The blonde gasped and gave up an anguished
shriek, but Yang continued to twist until the bad girl's face had grown red as a beet, and her eyes
looked ready to roll back up in their sockets.

Around that time, Yang abruptly let go of the tenderized snatch -- but before Ulrika could cover
it up with her hands she followed up by firing her knee up into the lambasted orifice as hard as
she could muster.

*THWWWWACCCCCKKKKK!!** The knee parted the lips of Ulrika's twat and passed right inside, plunging
deeper until it connected with her pubic bone with a hollow thud. The blonde threw back her head
and wailed, her eyes seemingly having grown to the size of tennis balls.

"WWWWAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" she howled, just before collapsing on top of Yang's body and sliding off
limply into the mud.

Yang stood up and looked scornfully at her opponent as she stood up on increasingly shaky legs,
her entire front covered in mud, and one shaking hand gingerly rubbing her groin like a woman who
badly needs to pee.

"You'll... PAY... for that!!" the blonde hissed before charging blindly toward Yang, but the latter
stopped her mid-rush with a rock-hard punch to the gut. The blow froze the villainess dead in her
tracks -- and sent a stream of saliva spewing out from between her cherry red lips -- so that Yang
could follow up with two perfectly-aimed uppercuts to the undersides of the blonde's fat, perky breasts.

*WHAM!* *BAM!* "OOHHH!! EEEHHH!!" Yang's fists burrowed into the gelatinous flesh of the bad girl's
mega-sized mammaries, causing them to bounce up and nearly strike their owner in the face. Yang,
however, was not done -- as soon as the floppy tits had bounced back into their normal place, she
fired her fists straight into them head-on. The double punch leveled the Western Goliath's boobs
down to nothing, flattening their proud towers against her chestbone with a satisfying *SPLAT!*

"OOHHH, MY BOOBS!!" Ulrika Weiss whined as she placed her hands protectively over her bruised,
violently jiggling milkbags.

"Yeah, those'll be sore for a while," Yang chirped, before grabbing the mewling bad girl by her
collar and swinging her around until her jumpsuit tore open and she fell out of it, landing on
her butt in the mud again. Sitting there in the dirt on her heinie, he resourceful international 
criminal was no longer a very menacing sight -- her lustrous golden hair was tousled, her face
beet red and streaked with dirt, and the only clothing left on her body was a tight white push-
up bra that had slipped down from the boob-punching to reveal most of her nipples, and an ex-
ceedingly skimpy white thong -- through which her juicy, wet slit could be easily discerned.

"A thong?" Yang raised her eyebrow. "Of course, I always had you figured for a slut!"

"You don't know me, you little Oriental twat!" Ulrika wailed, her eyes livid with rage.

"On the contrary, I know just about everything about you. For instance, I know you slept with 
Laura Li for information, that you're a lousy lay and that your ass tastes like butter with a 
tang of raspberries -- her words."

The blonde gave up a violated gasp, seeming absolutely shock by the betrayal. "I did what I had
to do to get the information I needed! I can't help it that so many girls want to stick their 
tongues in my butt."

"So many girls? So there have been many others, then?"

Ulrika got up on her knees and looked ready to pounce. "I'm not afraid to use my body as a
weapon... or a resource. It's gotten me a long way!"

"They've got a name for that, honeytits, and it's called being a whore. But your days of peddling
your tight white ass in the service of evil interests are over. That's right -- your naughty
blond tushy is now under arrest!"

But Ulrika Weiss wasn't ready to give up yet. With a blood-curdling cry she leapt forward and
succeeded in tackling agent Yang to the ground, after which she placed her foot on the Asian's
neck, pinning her against the muddy soil.

"Seems like the tables have turned," the villainess hissed as she hiked up her bra to cover up
her perky, salmon-colored nipples. "You know what? It hurt like HELL back there when you kneed
me in the twat, and now I want revenge."

"Unnnggghhhhh... can't... breathe!!" agent Yang coughed as her air supply was cut off by the
Western agent's toes.

"Also, I seem you calling my butt 'hefty' and me promising a certain retaliation for that... what
was it again? Oh yeah -- THIS!" The buxom blonde removed her foot from Yang's throat, only to
spin around and drop ass-first onto her face.

"MMMPPHHHGGHHHH!!!!" Yang protested as the bodacious Caucasian rump enveloped her face from all
directions like some sweaty, fleshy mask. The Asian agent tried to wiggle her face away from the
depths of Ulrika's crack, but every position seemed to cut her off from the oxygen that she was 
beginning to need so desperately. She could hear the bad girl laugh at her predicament, and a
second later, she began to wiggle her ass teasingly, slapping Yang's cheeks from both directions
with her vibrating glutes.

Yang managed to free her hands and began to scratch Ulrika's legs, but the villainess only laughed
at the feeble resistance. The air was running out now, and Yang grew increasingly desperate. How
to stop this horrific death by ass-phyxiation?

Finally, she gathered all the energy she could muster into one final counter-attack. She craned
her left leg so that the foot was securely attached to the ground for leverage, and then kicked
up the other leg with all her strength -- kneeing Ulrika in the tailbone with a loud, hollow
*THUNK!*

"Ooohh!!" The blow sent the villainess sliding off Yang's face and toppling over onto all fours 
with her sweat-soaked butt sticking up in the air, the round vanilla-colored booty virtually naked 
save for the diminutive thong ridden up its crevice like dental floss.

"Aaaaaand you're not going anywhere," said Yang as she grabbed the buxom bad girl by the thong and
stopped her in her tracks. She then began to drag the blonde around in a circle by her underwear,
building up speed until the build-up of centrifugal force caused her to fly through the air, her
lustrous blond hair whipping behind her, in a painful wedgie-carousel.

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!" Ulrika moaned as -- once again -- her thong shot all the way up into her swollen
pink pussy, causing her to arch her plushy backside in response.

Spinning so fast that her surroundings were little more than a blur, Yang watched the wicked blond
bitch wiggle her pudding-like marble rump in agony, and caught several glimpses of the sweet little pink
orifice between her jiggling buns. Finally, she decided it was time for this little brat to get off
the carousel. With a loud feral cry for emphasis, she delivered a perfectly-aimed kick into the
callipygian enemy's shapely rear -- nudging her big toe into her tight puckering asshole -- causing
the thong to snap like an over-stretched elastic band and sending the blonde flying through the
air, her well-kicked ass arching itself behind her from the impact.

*THWAACKKK!!* As if the universe was just to eager to pile on the humiliations onto the disgraced
white bad girl, she plunged headfirst into a rabbit hole and ended up sliding so far down it that
only her butt poked out.

"Hey Ulrika," agent Yang said as she gathered up the blonde's kicking shins and tied them securely
together. "Wanna know how we found out your identity?"

"MMMPPPFFGGHHHH!!!!" the villainess responded from below ground.

"It's because we knew what your butt looked like," Yang continued as she pulled out the blonde's
arms and tied them up behind her back. "Yep, we got your tushy analyzed -- plain and simple."

"MMMMPPFF-GHHHH-GGHHHH!!!" came the response.

"No, really. Which means... that if you hadn't been so eager to show it off so much, what with all
the tight white jumpsuits and all, you would probably have gotten away!" She gave the humiliated
blonde's defenseless bum a good pinch. "You forgot the first lesson in international espionage:
all information can be used to track you down, including the shape of your sweet little rump."

When the blonde's head was pulled out of the rabbit hole, her face and dissheveled hair were almost 
completely brown with mud and dirt. Yang grabbed a handful of grass and shoved it into the blonde's 
mouth before gagging her with her own thong. She then flung the naked and hogtied prisoner over
her shoulder like a felled deer and began to walk back toward the city.

"Agent Yang! Agent Yang, dammit, what's happening down there!?" Big Sister's voice came buzzing
into her ear.

"Everything's under control, Big Sis," Yang replied casually. "I've got Snow White over my shoulder
like a nice, obedient little pussycat and I'm bringing her back to HQ."

"Top notch, agent Yang! We look forward to introducing her to our new interrogation room."

"Don't you mean the spanking room?"

"Dammit, agent Yang, don't give away state secrets! Anyway, you can expect the management to be 
pleased with this. We'll send a helicopter right away."

Agent Yang clicked off the intercom and admired the garish, twinkling skyline of Rio as she continued
walking. She knew that she was now possibly the most endangered person in the world. As soon as Ulrika's 
mysterious organization found out what had happened, they would use everything within their power to 
track her down. The ball was rolling and there was no turning back.

STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF AGENT YANG IN: BOOBRAKER!