by Jay Aury
“Oh my gosh! Like so super good!”
Audra noticed the blonde held an envelope in her hands. “What’s that?”
Maxine looked at the envelope in surprise. “Oh! Duh!” She smacked her forehead with a giggle. “Like, sorry! Some guy came by the door. He gave me this and said it was for you!”
Curious, Audra took the envelope. Alistair moved off of her, and she turned to a sitting position, slitting open the letter. She gave it a shake, eyebrows climbing as two gold rings rolled into her hand. She picked up one, examining the crest. A shield and a serpent wrapped around a blade.
Alistair snorted. “Looks like they knew what your decision would be,” he said.
Audra rolled her eyes but slipped the ring on. She smirked at how well it fit. Lifting her hand, she admired it in the sunlight, noticing how it gleamed. Alistair took the other, putting it on. Audra grinned and grabbed him, pulling him back down and into another kiss. “Mnnn,” she moaned into his lips. “To new beginnings.”
Alistair chuckled. “I’d drink to that.”
“Hey! No fair. I want some too!” Maxine whined, pouting petulantly.
Laughing, Audra took the bimbo’s hand. With a giggle Maxine lay down with them, kissing Alistair while the spy stroked Audra’s pussy with his ringed finger. Moaning, Audra lay back in the deck chair under the bright Florida sun, and lost herself to the arms of her lovers, and her friends.
Epilogue
The screens looked in on the small steel room from the walls. Static popped and crackled across them each in turn, the hissing sound filling the low, dark room.
“Results?” one voice crackled.
“Failure. The matter was contained, but ARM’s presence has been revealed.”
“Can we suppress it?” another asked.
“To do so now would only lend credence. No. Our presence might be revealed, gentlemen-“
“And ladies.”
“Yes, and ladies,” the first voice sighed. “But our projects remain behind the veil of obstufication.”
“Nonetheless,” another voice rasped, his long years discernible even through the hissing static. “We are now exposed. And above all, known. Not to mention the loss of the island was a large one. I remember having set that thing up. It was my project you know.”
“Yes, yes, we know. You haven’t stopped talking about it since you got your seat,” the woman hissed.
“Don’t you talk to me that way young lady! You’ll respect your elders.”
“I would if you didn’t still think we were in the Cold War.”
“You know the Cold War was just a front for the New Axis. I’ve seen things that would turn your hair white you jumped up little strumpet!”
“People! Will you focus,” another spat. “We don’t have time for this. We have to begin damage control immediately before our other projects are also found out.”
“Did we salvage anything at all from the island?” the first voice asked.
“As a matter of fact, we did," the first voice observed. "We managed to have the files wiped, and the assault on the island proper destroyed enough of the facility and its materials that we don’t have to worry about it being found out. In addition, we maintain control over the satellite network.”
“You’re welcome,” the old voice rasped before devolving into a coughing fit.
“And yet," the first resumed over the rasping coughing of his colleague, "it isn’t all that was salvaged. Unfortunately, Sterling died in the attack. But there was one survivor. Please. Let us make her feel welcome.”
The screens grew silent as a part of the floor slid away. Exhaust breathed from the hole as an elevator whirred, slowly raising the woman into the room. Silver hair shone even in the weak light of the monitors. A figure whose bust and hips that strained the dark fabric of a body suit. A smile flashed on ruby red lips, and eyes an icy blue shone beneath sharp brows.
“Councillors,” Gala said sweetly.
“Squawk! Pull my hair and call me darling!” the parrot on her shoulder cried, bobbing its head. Gala giggled, stroking the bird’s crest, much to its pleasure.
“The clone?” the old voice rasped.
“The survivor. Who managed to wipe all the files before the army could get to them, then escape the island under their very nose. Gentlemen. And ladies,” the voice quickly amended. “I do believe I speak for us all when I say we at ARM require individuals of talent. And that such skill should be rewarded.”
“Oh how thoughtful,” Gala said sweetly.
“Indeed. And I do believe that, with the unfortunate passing of Mister Sterling, we require another face for the world to see. Miss Gala. Might you be interested in the position?”
“Why Councilman,” Gala said, her eyes shining bright, her smile wicked with delight. “I would love to…”
The End