SmackDown: MadMike's Revenge!

Round 2, Dudecore: Don't Impress Me Much - @jewel1307

Don't Impress Me Much

by jewel1307

Deep in the heart of EVIL, Inc., a secret agent contorted his body to get past the red laser tripwires. If he'd even so much as breathed on them he would have been immediately vaporized. He somersaulted beneath the crotch of an RDU—robot defence unit—that was in sleep mode. He cooed to the crying kittens, thus destroying the security's CARE Protocol.

He wasn't worried. As the best agent in GOOD Corp.'s intergalactic ranks, this mission was a cakewalk.

Beat EVIL's ancient—albeit extensive—security system, hack into the data vault, steal the cipher, assassinate the head of EVIL, get out, and be home in time to catch the new episode of Lunar Coronation Street.

That was when he found himself locked in the gas-spectrometer room. His stomach trembled.

Rule one, he thought to himself. Never eat Venusian tacos before a mission. Should've known better.

He plugged up and forced himself not to breathe as he maneuvered through the room and out the door. His years of training put to good use.

Unfortunately things went tits up right then and there. He turned to see fifteen RDUs aiming their .50-cal cannons at all his tender places. How the hell had this gone wrong?

And then it dawned on him.

No.

Moving slower than a space slug, he lowered his hand to his waist and tapped his comms unit. And seconds before the RDUs blew him to pieces, he screamed out the coded message to the boys and girls back home in High Command: "Fuck you, MadMikeMarsbergen!"

Safina cringed at the sound broadcasting over the open comms. Dave was a good operative – not the best they had – and he wouldn't be easy to replace now that EVIL had wind of GOOD's interest in whatever activity they were hiding. She sighed, knowing the operation would require someone unique to penetrate the extensive security. The best was Roger, but he was busy tying up the loose ends of his last survival mission – no doubt rubbing Pamela up the right way if he lived up to his reputation.

But even he would have trouble getting past those RDU's. What they needed was someone to be invited in. Someone MadMike would never suspect or ... would overlook.

After a couple of weeks of careful planning and backstory setup, Safina took one final look in the full-length mirror and breathed an audible sigh of satisfaction. She still had an amazing body for a woman of forty-five. The way the leopard-print jumpsuit hugged her slim figure, emphasising every feminine curve, she was sure to catch MadMike's attention. She picked up her purse, tucked the room key inside beside the cute, little lipstick bombs M had created especially for the occasion, and made her way down to reception, where her contacts assured her MadMike would arrive within the hour.

His entourage preceded him, their eyes sweeping the lobby for perceived threats. Once satisfied, they gave a nod to the guard at the hotel main entrance, who in turn nodded to the chauffeur, giving the go-ahead to open the rear door of MadMike's car.

Safina watched MadMike in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar, waiting for him to pass directly behind her on route to his usual table. She swung on her stool, drink in hand, straight into the path of the lead bodyguard. Just as she planned, he walked right into her, spilling the drink down her front so it ran in tracks between the mounds of her exposed cleavage.

MadMike sputtered an apology while dabbing at the area with a yellow handkerchief he pulled from his breast pocket. His eyes never met hers.

"Let me buy you another?" he asked with a nod to the bartender.

Safina brushed his hand away and muttered a stern, "No thanks." She softened the rebuttal with a smile when MadMike finally met her eye.

"Do you know who I am?"

"You think you're special. You think you're something else." She shrugged. "So you have a bodyguard, that don't impress me much."

"What would it take to impress you?"

"You must be joking, right?" Having left the intended impression, she turned and strode to the opposite end of the bar, ensuring to exaggerate the sway of her hips as she wove between a couple of tables. A coy glance over her shoulder and he played right into her plan.

Every now and again, MadMike stared in her direction. Several times he caught her shooing off an admirer. When she got up to leave, he did too, and followed her out to the lobby. He interrupted her conversation with the Concierge, cancelling her cab with an offer of the use of his car to wherever she wanted to go.

Safina opened her mouth to reply, but before she managed a word, MadMike held his palm up and insisted he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"So you have a car, that don't impress me much," she said, ignoring his proffered hand as the chauffeur opened the rear door.

MadMike slid across the seat so their legs touched. "You still haven't told me what it would take to impress you."

"That depends," Safina said after a moment's thought. "Maybe you better show me the thing you feel is most impressive?"

An hour later, contrary to the advice of his senior security, MadMike ushered Safina into the Central Command Room – next door to the very room Agent D sent his final broadcast – trench-coated RDUs flanked either side of every exit.

"Buried in a desert approx five hundred miles from here, are two Korean Made nuclear missiles that's target co-ordinates match the British and American Embassies in the Middle East." He pointed to a black box atop a computer monitor. "In that box is the key code that arms or disarms the guidance systems."

"So you think you're Bin Laden or something?"

"Or something," He grinned. "Are you impressed now?"

"I am actually." She placed her left hand on his chest and bent down as if to whisper in his ear. Her right hand rummaged around in her purse before withdrawing several lipstick-bombs, which she tossed at the feet of the trench-coated RDUs.

While everyone dove for cover, Safina snatched the black box and ran for the exit.

Dave blocked her path. "Nice try."

His sudden appearance caught her off guard. He was last person she expected to see waving a .50-cal cannon in her face.

"Why?" she managed to ask when he urged her back into the room. "Money?"

"Of course. What else is there? Apart from life or death. Life with enough money to buy a small continent seemed like the perfect retirement plan. Besides, MadMike can be very charming when he puts his mind to it."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you honestly believe you're here because you wanted to be? MadMike had his eye on you long before I got involved in this mission. According to him, you turned him down at the Academy and this entire setup was to bring you here. You'll disappear and so will this rouse. EVIL will vanish, and a month from now, it'll be like it never existed."

MadMike, having picked himself up from the floor and brushed the dust from his velvet jacket, smiled. "We'll be flying to my island in a moment. There's no point trying to escape. Should you leave the grounds of the house, you will be left there. Alone. With only the survival skills you taught at the academy to assist you."