Agent 0069, Chapter 1

Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright

Date: 6th May

Office of State Security, Section 5

She went by many names; Rebecca to her friends, Covington to her immediate superiors, Chanteur in any documentation that needed to refer to her obliquely. And then there were the names that she was called behind her back. Even ignoring the sexual slurs like 'slut', there were a few. "That Damn Vixen", or "The Damn Vixen". Always a definite article there, never a question as to which one. "Enchanter" (always with the Common phonetics) was at least somewhat more tolerable even if it was a pun based off of her Agency designation. Her favorite, though, was the one that no one would ever call her to her face, especially in front of HR. "Agent double-oh sixty-nine."

She'd heard all of them. Every last one. Upon His Majesty's Secret Scepter. The Spy Who Banged Me. From Koskov With Lust. Jane Bondage. And she rather enjoyed rubbing their faces in the skillset that she brought to the agency. When push came to shove, they didn't send her to do anything particularly nasty. No targeted killings (she had been forced to kill a couple of times but that was the mission going sideways) and no 'stop the nuclear launch codes from trading hands' meetings. No, she was very much in the business of gathering intelligence, and then letting the other agents put it to use.

She was, in essence, The Honey Pot that His Majesty's government used to get access to things that they could act on. As the old movie intro said, "Nobody does it better." Something told her that A would have a mission for her within the hour. She was sitting at her desk, jacket on the hook in her shoebox of an office. She barely worked here unless she was handling case notes or after action reports. It was simply too difficult to deal with regulations regarding classified material outside of an active case to allow her to work remotely, even if she would honestly prefer to work from her apartment overlooking the greenery of Edmund Park. She hadn't ever done anything that would even come close to allowing someone to suspect that she'd mishandled sensitive information. Honestly.

The emails were flying fast and furious through her inbox, of course, and she barely kept up with any of them. Far too many "FYI" and "keeping you in the loop" for her to actually read. Honestly, even 24 hours a day wouldn't be enough to accurately take in the volume of information that passed through her inbox.

Many of them were flagged 'priority'. Doubtless there would be a memo going out about that. Probably tomorrow, though. It was already after most of the administrative staff were gone for the day, and the only reason she was still in the office was that her date for the evening had canceled on her. And she did have several reports to file, as well as catch up on the various problems that the agency was dealing with.

She had long ago picked up on the major threads going on; religious fundamentalists in the Free States were making more pointed noise than usual. She shivered, and desperately hoped they wouldn't send her there. Those assholes tended to not only be bad lays, they were usually violent to women. There was another corporation making in-roads on outlawed genetic testing. That would possibly be fun. There was more saber-rattling from the Iron Bloc. Somehow the analysts were able to determine that 'no really this time they probably mean it'. That one could be mildly entertaining. The Koskov ballet was the best in the world.

Then the call that she'd been expecting came through. "Miss Covington, A is requesting you in his office." Somehow the secretary's voice was bored beyond all recognition, and yet also conveyed a sense of urgency. Have to adore the Kingdom's waning aristocracy. Stiff upper lip, wot wot.

"Of course, Rogers. Anything I should know?"

There was the barest hint of a pause. "I wouldn't stop for coffee or a quick flirt, Miss Covington."

Her eyebrow rose at that. That almost certainly meant that she would be traveling, and that her flight would be leaving soon. "Understood. On my way."

She stood up and reached for her jacket, already walking as she slipped it over her shoulders, her hands tugging the buttons into place and then making sure the sleeves were impeccable. She had an image to maintain after all. She badged her way onto the lift and then checked her watch, reviewing what she could just from memory of plane schedules. East, to be sure, at this point in the day. Probably either Nikkon or Hannia. Perhaps Chusin, though that would truly be an annoying run. Such a poor country thanks to their lunatic of a leader, and Rebecca did enjoy her creature comforts.

When the doors parted she walked straight down the hallway and into the heavy double doors at the end of the hallway. "Rogers," she greeted as she walked past.

He stood. "Miss Covington," he greeted her, and she gave him a smile.

"I assume that I should just enter," she said as she kept walking forward.

"That might be best, ma'am," the canine said, and pushed a button on his desk phone. "Miss Covington, sir." It happened right as she opened the door, and strode into the room.

A was sitting at his desk with three other men in the office at the same time, and it was enough information for her to guess what she would need to be reading on the plane. "How may I be of assistance to the Nikkon desk, A?"

The burly old lion looked like he hadn't slept well in the last several years. Heavy lies the head that wears the crown, and all that. He barely looked at her, having two folders open in front of him while the three other men practically started drooling.

It was her usual effect on anyone attracted to women. She was in her late 20s, and looked every last bit as fresh-faced as if she were still in college. Her doctorate in Linguistics from Ironbridge would look like it was still in her future, if she applied the right makeup. She was able to straddle what was indelicately called the 'porn starlet knife blade'. She was toned, and yet also had a large bust and a rounded dancer's buttocks. She wasn't all that tall (her excuse to wear high heels) but her legs were proportionally long. Her white fur was brushed to a fine sheen, and her lush tail swayed behind her hypnotically. Even wearing utterly conservative office clothing and a skirt that went below her knees, she exuded sex.

"What do you know about Kamasuta Genetics, Covington?" The brusque tone was quite normal from A, who she knew was as gay as a pair of assless leather chaps during June. If she were to expose her breasts to him, he might well never get erect again, he'd be so turned off by it.

She gathered her thoughts. "Not all that much, A. Genetic research, mainly focusing on harnessing the new CRISPR process to eliminate a lot of the inherent diseases that we all face, on the surface. Done some good work in that area, showing promising results in quality of life as well as actual cures. Made some rather publically financially poor decisions to treat a few things in the third world, though it's all but made them saints in the eyes of much of the Western World. Headed by a Mr. Konosuba, last I knew, one of those 'lead from the trenches' sort that spends more time in the lab than the board room."

She cocked her head as she looked A over, shifting so that her hands were tucked behind her back. It made her breasts stand out, and the youngest of the hounds on the Nikkon desk practically spat his whiskey onto his compatriot as he stared. She really would have to give her seamstress a bonus, the woman had done exquisite work on getting the jacket to sit just right. "Unless I've missed something rather significant, surely we're not thinking that Mr. Konosuba is doing anything untoward. I don't fully buy the saint image, but he's been working on things for at least 30 years and there hasn't even been a peep of a problem."

A waved toward the still-sputtering beagle. "Get it out of your lungs, dammit, Michaels, I don't have time for this."

The young hound's ears hung even lower as he stood up and did his best to breathe after the burning liquor went down the wrong pipe.

A continued, and clicked a remote at a wall screen to bring up a picture of a young tiger scowling into the camera. "This doesn't have anything to do with Konosuba, other than him possibly being in danger. Michaels."

With one last heroic cough, the beagle walked toward the screen and tapped it with a finger. "This is Lin Shi Yao. Parents were Hannic breakaway faction from their revolution, fled to Nikkon because his father had business connections there. Brilliant geneticist, rocketed up through the ranks. He's been doing work on some of their secret projects for a few years now. Three weeks ago we picked up traffic that indicates that he's on the verge of selling some rather 'interesting' technology to the North Chusinese. We aren't sure what he's got in the way of planning but considering rants that we've tied to him about the political situation and governments there it would be exceptionally destabilizing. We need to know what he's going to sell, to whom, and when."

Rebecca accepted a folder from one of the other men in the room, a feline who was doing his best not to dive into her cleavage with his gaze. A heroic effort, honestly. She had to give him credit, that wedding ring on his finger looked new enough to still be in the heat of romance. He was probably still very much dedicated to his young wife. She flicked through it, and then tucked it under her arm. "I assume that I'm flying in looking for an opportunity rather than having some sort of plan?"

The third member of the Nikkon desk stood this time, the director of the department. "We've reason to believe that he's making several plays with this, Covington. There's a chance of shorting the stock for a takeover. There's a chance of getting things into the hands of his family's political faction. There's a chance of people who we don't want to have this kind of tech at their disposal getting past the lockouts that Konosuba put in. For now, we need information, and then we'll have to figure out how to act."

Rebecca quirked an eyebrow at the director and faced him fully. "That doesn't really answer my question, sir. Am I going in without a plan or do you have something specific in mind?"

He let out a 'hm?' quickly followed by an 'oh, yes'. "There's a few options, but I do know that you rather enjoy your freedom of action, Chanteur. His schedule of events and habits is in your priority inbox. Do as you will."

A took over the conversation once more. "You've a ticket to Kanada International on the next Kingdom Air flight. Your go-bag luggage will be down with E when you get your kit. And Covington." He leveled a massive hand and pointed at her. "Do remember that it does your cover no good to indulge while you're traveling. If I hear one whisper of you having your way with some young buck of a flight attendant I'll have your tail tacked to my wall next to my coat of arms. Am I clear?"

She gave a slight bow and gave him her most innocent smile. "A, I wouldn't dream of interfering with safe flight operations on one of our airliners." With that, she turned and left the room. It was time to see the mad scientists and get her newest toys.

Office of State Security, Equipment Section

E was, as always, exasperating. He was one of the ones who took a distinctly perverse pleasure in playing not only her role, but her reputation. He was standing over a table with her suitcase and briefcase laid out, contents spread. Her laptop was open and he was applying a screen protector to it when she walked in, and looked up from his task as her heels clicked on the lab's tile floor. "Ah, Covington," he said warmly, quickly smoothing out the material onto her screen before throwing his arms wide. "I think you'll like this! Come, come, look here!" He showed her the computer, which had one of her many academic papers on it.

She nodded, "I remember. One of my less successful papers. Pity when a good theory gets blown out of the water with pesky unknown facts."

He nodded, and then shoved a pair of reading glasses toward her. "Yes, yes, now put these on."

She perched them on the end of her muzzle and looked at the screen again. This time, it was her priority inbox. Her classified priority inbox. She looked over the rim of the glasses, and the image went away. "Clever," she said, instantly wary. This was far too mundane of a gadget, useful as it was. And far too unsexual. If he was leading with this, then the rest of the items were doubtless going to be truly eye-rolling.

"Anyone else will simply see you working on your paper. Anything you type will generate the next bit of the paper to anyone else's eyes. Anything you click around on will bring up research tied to that. You'll be the only one able to see what's going on. Well, anyone who has these lenses will," he said, fluttering his hands as he went around the table, "but we're the only ones using them so it'll be fine. Next, your old friend the pendant camera, choker microphone and ear buds that look like earrings, the makeup kit, the coloration kit" he motions toward them. "All wirelessly connected to your phone of course, no visible call, all that."

She nodded, crossing her arms under her chest. He still hadn't brought anything out that would 'play to her skills', as he called it.

He motioned toward a set of bracelets that looked like they were halfway between sexy manacles and evening wear. "Full set of picks and tools on the left, full set of cables on the right for interfacing."

She nodded, and still hadn't seen the things that were going to make her want to throttle him. Which is when she noticed that there were another set of earrings set to the side, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "E, why are these separate from the rest?"

He fluttered his hands in agitation, "You're skipping, you're skipping! No jumping the queue, Covington, you know how I work!"

She sighed and rolled her hand toward him, urging him to continue. "Yes, well I do have to board a flight in an hour and it's nearly three-quarters of one to get to Livingsheath, so do get on with it."

Undeterred, he picked up a handbag. It looked like woven leather with metal handles. "Stronger than paracord," he declared. "Magnetic seal on the rings, tap it three times with this finger ring, the handles pop open to hook around something, then you leap out of wherever it is and you descend to the ground. You'll fall slowly enough that you can land safely and walk away, there's about three hundred meters of cord."

Next, a pair of spike heels. "Detachable heels," he said as he demonstrated. "Big toe activates, up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right. Both feet have to do the pattern, both heels will pop off. You can use them as stakes or truncheons in a pinch, but mostly they're there as a disguise aid."

Rebecca started tapping her foot impatiently. "E. Why. Are. Those. Rings. Separated?"

He glowered at her, sulking as she cut his fun off. When she failed to crumble under his petulance, he sighed, and picked them up, then pushed them toward her breasts. "Nipplerings with programmable RFID chips in the balls."

She glowered at him, and then waved her hand toward the door. "Let me get this straight. You want me to use my tits to get past any kind of RFID sensor? Just mash them right up against the surface?"

He shrugged. "Just make sure that you have a badge over the area if you want to maintain disguise. Otherwise... there's nowhere else to really put it."

She held her wrist up. "Here. Here, you hormonal beast. You put it subdermal."

He shook his head, grinning. "Those are known, and will be too easy to find during a pat down."

She angrily started grabbing at the bags. Thankfully one of the assistants had been packing things into her luggage as the briefing went forward, so the only two things left were the nipple rings. She only had to snatch them and shove them into a pouch on her briefcase.

E looked genuinely hurt. "They vibrate, Covington! Perfect cover for why they have any kind of electronics! Already linked to your phone," he called out to her as she made a rude gesture over her shoulder as she stalked out of the lab, and straight to the waiting cab.

Thankfully, the ride to the airport took just under half an hour. Doubtless A had requested a string of green lights to get out of the city and on the way to the airport, and she was able to use the flight crew security entrance. She was the last to board the plane and sat down heavily into the first class seat.

The flight attendant came and ensured that she was situated. Pretty young thing too. A sable, and she had the scarf tucked just right to be flirtatious while also being professional. Still in love with her job, the travel, the adventure.

Rebecca smiled at her and waved off the apology of no pre-takeoff drink due to timing. "You can just bring me a nice something once we're in the air, love," the vixen said with a charming smile. "Surprise me."

Kingdom Air Flight 2453; Somewhere over the Arctic

The sable ended up surprising her. Rebecca thought about it, laying next to the sable up in the crew's rest compartment. A hadn't said anything about her taking a sweet femme, just a 'young buck'. Trailing her fingers along the trim waistline from breast to hip, Rebecca doubted that it would save her from his ire. Then again, it would save her from a reprimand. After all, she'd followed his orders to the letter.

And while the sable had been a true delight, it had mostly been to take Rebecca's mind off of things for a bit. After her encounter with E, she'd been too worked up to really concentrate on the mission. She'd needed a good solid roll in the sack with someone to clear things out so that she could think clearly. And the slender little thing had been wickedly enthusiastic. Rebecca had been around long enough to detect the 'innocent virgin' act, and it tended to put her off. She didn't want to spend time teaching someone how things worked. She wanted to get right in and enjoy the moment.

This dark-furred flight attendant had been anything but that. She'd brought a brandy snifter to Rebecca, and tucked a note in the folds of the serviette that her crew rest was mandated in three hours.

Rebecca had to double check herself that she hadn't applied one of E's pheromonal cocktails. She was used to working quickly but this was something else entirely! Still, the promise was more than welcome, and a half hour after the appointed time, Rebecca made her way toward the locked door. A few more passed notes had given her the code, as well as delivered a promise to be there.

Upstairs in the cramped little room, it was just the two of them. The sable had already stripped down to her panties, no bra.

Rebecca had to have her brassieres custom-made. The combination of genetics that gave her the impressive numbers that she had were rare enough that no one made off-the-rack undergarments in her size. Which was good for her, she never had to worry about things pinching. That had been a real problem in her teenage years. But the fact that she was, as E put it, "exquisitely top heavy", didn't mean that she only liked girls as large as she was. She appreciated the female form in all of its shapes, and the bare mounds that the weasel-kin sported were just right.

Rebecca moved down, still wearing her full skirt and jacket. She crawled into the little bunk, gently kissing her way up the delicate neckline, then pressing a soft touch of her muzzle to the sable's.

Karla, she learned later, was quite the enthusiastic lover, and enjoyed every moment, from cupping Rebecca's chest and squeezing it, to pulling the jacket and blouse off, to fingering her new friend through silk panties.

Rebecca's own skills were, obviously, highly developed. She enjoyed hearing the breathless gasps and tiny sounds as Karla tried to remain quiet. There wasn't anyone else up in the cabin with them, some sort of hours of service requirement put Karla on an earlier break than anyone else.

The two slid against each other, maintaining that intimate closeness that always comes with good sex. Karla sucked on Rebecca's nipples, pushing as deeply as she could into those pillowy masses.

Rebecca ended up with her skirt off finally, panties down, and only after some deliciously slow making out did the two of them finally decide to taste each other directly. The vixen had almost expected Karla to want to be on top, partially because of weight and partially because of the fact that Karla had been the one to initiate this session.

Instead, Karla had practically dragged Rebecca's hips back over her face before the vixen could fully push Karla's panties off her legs. Karla was a much more aggressive lover than most women her age. And Rebecca was savoring it. Karla's hands cupped and squeezed Rebecca's ass like it was the last thing she was ever going to get, and pushed in to give a long deep kiss to the vixen's folds. Just the right amount of tongue. Not trying to stuff it all in, not trying to overextend. Just enough to part the outer lips and slide over the sensitive parts inside. And, most important of all, a heady moan of pleasure added into the mix.

Not to be outdone, Rebecca drew her lover's legs to the side, and spread the labia with two fingers. Professionals who simply want to get the job done go straight for the clit. Amateurs, in the truest sense of that word, take their time. Amateurs spend several minutes kissing and licking elsewhere. Tease around the bundle of nerves with fingers and tongue. It was one of the more curious distinctions to Rebecca, that the Free States inverted the complement of 'amateur' to an insult about lack of skill, and embraced the backhanded compliment of 'professional' as one who was highly skilled yet often didn't care. Rebecca was a professional, but more important to her was that she was an amateur; one who does it for the love of it.

Within minutes, both of the women were panting and gasping, touches going and going, Karla savoring the taste, and the feeling of the vixen's breasts pressing into her abdominals.

Rebecca was relishing the little tremors of passion that she could draw out with deft touches of her lips. If the amorous flight attendant were a target, she would make a point of playing it some way or other. Either wear her out fast and get the job done if she were pressed for time, make the other woman just melt in a string of truly intense orgasms and pass out, or play up the 'oh you're such an amazing lover I can't keep up with you' to wear them out more thoroughly for a better chance of getting things done while they're unconscious.

Neither of those things were the case, however. And thus when Rebecca felt an orgasm building, she didn't resist it. She didn't 'encourage' it. She simply let it happen. She felt the tremor in her thighs and belly, she felt her tail flutter. And she felt that wash of pleasure and delight roll through her nerves as she moaned deeply into Karla's folds. Pulling back to suck in a breath, she licked her lips, and then murmured, "Oh, you are a treat. But now it's my turn."

And with that, perhaps with just a hint of 'revenge', Rebecca's fingers, lips, tongue and teeth built something that would leave the perky little flight attendant breathless, and slumbering quite well. Two fingers slid into the grasping passage, curling just so to catch that little bundle of nerves on the inside, pinching it between them and rolling. She licked, tracing around those fingers, on each side. She gave gentle, almost feather-light kisses to the clit. She paid attention to the soft fur of thighs while she guided Karla's body up.

Rebecca had no illusions about this being 'the best' that Karla would ever have. She'd long ago abandoned any kind of expectation that any particular time with any particular lover would be 'the best they ever will have'. It wasn't realistic, and it wasn't healthy for her. But she could confidently say that she wouldn't ever leave someone disappointed in any way. Except maybe disappointed there wasn't more.

When she finally allowed Karla to cum, the sable was practically sobbing, begging, even letting out a few squeaking chirps. Rebecca's fingers started to ever so gently tug at the root of the clitoral bundle, and her lips suddenly sealed around the clitoris and she sucked on it while bathing it with her tongue. The reaction was every bit as electric as she'd hoped to draw out of her dark-furred lover. It wasn't the first time she'd ever been bucked almost off a woman. It was the first time she'd ever had the back of her head smacked into the bunk above her, though. In a life of what amounted to carnal excess in the service of her country, that was saying something. It made her laugh.

And Karla's afterglow was cut short as she apologized and cuddled, more embarrassed about the pain she'd caused than anything else.

Even the pointed 'a-hem' from the stairway. "Karla, you're supposed to be sleeping, not sleeping around." The tone was weary, more than angry. Probably what the crew would call the 'senior momma', like someone in the Navy would call the senior enlisted 'The Bosun'.

Karla extended a hand under the privacy curtain, and given the position of the forearm, it was a rude gesture rather than an affirmative. The cabin door closed, and Karla smiled at Rebecca, still apologetic. "I really am sorry, love."

A kiss, and a promise that it truly was alright, and that was followed by some light cuddling. Karla nodded off within a few minutes.

Rebecca stayed for a little while longer, stroking the other woman's belly and thighs. Doubtless she'd have to clean herself up before going back on duty, and there wasn't a shower available. The water was simply too heavy. It was one of the reasons that the spy tended to avoid the mile high club. She had her lifetime membership, of course. She'd gotten that particular ticket punched on her... third mission? Fourth? She considered, trying to recall. Fourth. The Helvitic banker.

They'd slipped her into the crew for his private jet after his favorite 'suddenly' got sick and couldn't fly. It was the only chance they had to gain access to his computer for months, and while they weren't convinced enough to take direct action, they had enough evidence to look for more. So she'd climbed on board, started riding him before the wheels were even off the ground, and by the time he touched down the malware had been loaded on his computer.

That was the mission that really put her name in front of the higher ups, because it netted much more than just the information they were after. One of the largest sentient trafficking rings in the world ran all of their money through this banker, and no one had even known it. After that, she started getting more and more high profile cases.

Blood Diamonds. Domestic terrorism. International terrorism. And in one bizzare instance, some wild cross-continent road race that was supposed to have ties to illegal weapons transport. Thatone turned out to just be a bunch of highly-connected youths making noise that it was more than it actually was to sound impressive to whoever it was they were fucking.

She had to smile at that. She'd latched herself to one of the drivers, and when he told her that every racer had ingredients for chemical warfare in their cars during pillow talk, the next morning special forces from seven different countries had descended on the punks like the fists of every god in the world combined. What was actually in the car boots? Spare tyres, clothes, and illegal mods to the various cars.

This one didn't feel like that, though. This one felt urgent. This one felt real. Something about Lin Shi Yao had her fur standing on end. With the grace of someone who's more than slightly practiced at getting out of bed without waking their partner, Rebecca tugged her panties and skirt back on, and then climbed over the sleeping flight attendant. "Thank you for flying the friendly skies, darling," she murmured as she hooked her bra and then turned it to slip her arms through the straps. The blouse went back on, and then she was slipping out of the crew cabin. Doubtless the noticeable vacant spot in first class would let everyone who was on the crew know who had been doing what with the absent flight attendant. And just as doubtless, none of them would say anything about it.

Checking the area around the door before she went out, she quickly tucked into the loo and then washed her face and her thighs with splashes of water, then dried as best she could. The material of her skirt would help to wick some of the liquid away, but this truly was why she didn't 'partake' in the air. No real way to get clean afterward, and while her tastes ran rather filthy in terms of sexual deviancy, Rebecca was a fastidious woman. She came out of the washroom, and made her way to her chair.

"The captain has the 'fasten seat belt sign' on, Miss." This time, the tone was reproachful, and it was the same voice that had reprimanded Karla.

"Just a bit of woman's hygiene to take care of," Rebecca said with a disarming smile. "I'll be there in just a tick."

The senior crew member would have been a true beauty in her younger years. A cheetah variant, probably every last bit as lean and lithe as could be imagined back then. Now, her fur had gone rougher, and her eyes weren't as bright. Especially with that scowl. "I hope that you don't distract any more of my flight attendants."

Rebecca's eyes went hard. "I suppose that's up to them, isn't it?" And with that, she pushed past the feline. After all, she had to get back to her seat. Safety first.

Once there, she set herself to work on her laptop, reading and reviewing files. Glasses perched on the end of her nose, she looked like the harried professional that her cover proclaimed she was. She was constantly typing something new, or looking over data, as far as anyone else could see, in some truly arcane bit of linguistic research about the origins of the Nikkonese language. Through her lenses, though, she was furiously diving into research records about genetics and the political leanings of one Lin Shi Yao. And the more that she found, the more worried she got.

She got some sleep after another few hours of work, having been up for something approaching 36 hours at that point. Hardly her record, but enough that when they landed she'd be (almost) on the local clock. Jet lag wouldn't be an issue for her. Her wake up call was a cup of coffee being offered by a smiling Karla.

"Thought you could use an extra bit, love." The sable had included a customs form along with the serviette.

Rebecca smiled and thanked Karla, and was almost surprised that there wasn't a second note, either thanking her for the fun or a phone number. Then again, Karla seemed like she understood what had happened. Good for her.

Date: 7th May

Kanada Metroplex

Rebecca's primary qualification that even got her interviewed by His Majesty's Government was that she was a polyglot. Both parents had worked for the Foreign Office, and as a child she was frequently going all over the world. By the time that she got her adult passport, her children's one had needed to be replaced twice just because of how many stamps were in it.

She spoke Gallic, Nikkonese, Hannese, and Mugol fluently. She was able to get by in Parsi, Hellese, Chusinese, Kossic and on good days she didn't have to ask someone in Kotic to slow down. Getting through customs went quite seamlessly for her, as always. And as always, the customs agent seemed surprised just how easily she conversed with him. He didn't spend much time leering at her cleavage, which may have been a result of looking rather bedraggled from the long flight and longer day.

That and she'd paused in the lav on the way out of the plane to tug her binding straps a bit tighter. Her bras were custom designed for more than one reason. On the one hand, she absolutely needed the extra support. On the other hand, she needed a way to easily reduce her bustline in a hurry, as it was one of her more noticeable features. Anyone who saw her would absolutely describe her as 'a vixen with tits bigger than your head'. Thus, being able to alter that would be a necessity. That, and there were times that she simply didn't want to draw attention.

She hailed a cab from the curbside, and told the driver her hotel. He was, bless his tanuki soul, silent for the whole time, and when she handed him the Zen notes for the ride, she insisted that he keep the change for allowing her to meditate in peace.

Once in her room, she checked her watch, checked in with headquarters, ordered supper, showered, ate, and went to bed. It was only about 8 by the local clock, but she was exhausted. She didn't even masturbate before sleep. She just closed her eyes and passed out.

The next morning, she woke up and checked her email. Reports about Lin Shi Yao's research. Replies to her requests for data about the various places that he went. A reminder to not check in with the locals unless clearing it through the Embassy first. She dearly hoped that she wouldn't have to call in any kind of support there.

Nikkonese agents were perfectly competent in their jobs, and she'd had good relations with several of them. But they could be just as bound by red tape as anyone else if they were dealing with a citizen of their own country. She didn't have any such restrictions.

After her morning exercise and stretches, she applied a full-body recolor to her fur. No longer an arctic vixen, she now sported the more traditional orange coloration with black gloves and socks. Day one was always getting information about the target's habits. Her Kanada accent should still be good, and thus she would pass for a local quite easily. She'd been here several times before, and getting lost in Kanada was practically impossible, especially if you know how to read Nikkonese. She put on one of her more severe bras to reduce her bustline, and then a reversible skirt, a nice reversible blouse with long sleeves, and a jacket.

Put the glasses on and couple that with her reversible bag, and she could easily change her look up while tailing him. It always surprised her when brand new agents expected something utterly high tech for tailing a lead. Rebecca liked her gadgets as much as the next spy, but the old ways were still the best in some respects, and there wasn't a good substitute for a quick-change to break patterns up.

She tucked her tablet and phone into her bag after changing the settings to display in Nikkonese, and considered things to bring past that. She had one of her rings on her ring finger, and the pendant and earrings with the camera and microphones on as well. For just a moment, she looked at the choker, and then the bracers. After that moment, she left both, but took her standard kit; picks in a set of random looking keys, a compact that was actually for key impressions, a bit of perfume with a sleeping agent, and headed out.

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This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any characters, living, dead or imaginary is purely a coincidence. All characters are a product of the author's imagination and copyright to them, unless noted guest appearances of other copyrighted characters are listed in this notice. Comments may be left (and are encouraged!) on the author's FurAffinity or SoFurry page. If you liked this story, and wish to support the author, please visit their Patreon.

This story is a work of fiction. Any immoral acts included in this story are a fantasy and should not be taken as encouragement to perform or endorsement of these acts by the author. Specifically, because apparently it needs to be said; anything other than expressed consent for any sexual encounter by a legal unimpaired sentient adult is wrong, immoral, and evil. Unwilling subjugation of sentients who have committed no crime is wrong, immoral, and evil.