Agent 47-D

After freshening up her makeup, she said goodbye to a lot of fond memories and went to see what kind of new experiences the two men waiting outside had to offer her. The car was an official Government black Sedan, with bullet-proof windows and tires. Hayes opened the door to let her in and Gibbons gave her a paper to sign.

"What's this?"

"It's just a simple confidentiality agreement between you and the Government, Miss. By accepting our proposal, you'll come to learn a few secrets and we want to make sure you don't go off running telling everyone about them, especially reporters or agents of foreign, potentially hostile countries." Gibbons offered her a pen, and she signed the paper, feeling quite amused.

"Don't you think you should have read it first?" Hayes asked.

"What for?! If it turns out to be something I don't like, I'll hypnotize you both and get rid of it. Oh, and the driver of course... Now, I would like to know more of this strange man of yours and how you decided to look for me in the first place."

The car drove off in the time it took her to say this. Hayes was very well impressed with her directness, although the line between it and sheer impertinence was a very fragile one. Still, he told her everything he knew.

"We work for a Government Institution whose name and existence is kept from the public. We deal with imminent threats against the safety of our citizens and provide all kinds of needful services to the nation, such as secret military operations, espionage, political assassinations if need be, etc. You see, we're a sort of sweeping task force for the problems the CIA, the FBI, the NSA, and all the other known agencies can't deal with, the last line of defense when all others tumble down."

"That seems like a Hollywood-type scenario!"

"So does the prospect of mind control through hypnosis and you claim you can do it..."

"You got me with that one, General, but I'm sure I'm not the only one with such abilities."

"I don't know about that. I never met anyone that could actually do it, without using tons of drugs and torturing skills. We've been on the lookout for quite some time now, examining the so-called attributes of stage hypnotists and hypnotherapists around, trying to find someone with the proper requirements to join our Division, but so far..."

"...you've accomplished nothing and I happened to be the next one on the list, right?"

"That and the fact that, apparently, you made one of our undercover agents start crying like a baby on The Red Rose's stage about a week ago in one of your hypnotic sessions. He was a dark, tall man, with an ugly-looking scar next to his right ear. Do you remember him?"

"Now that you mention it, yes I do. He was very cooperative when I showed him this ring." it was a copper-colored piece with the carving of a snake's head. Two small red gemstones represented its eyes. "It is a given fact that snakes hypnotize other animals just before eating them. This little ornament can do just the trick as well... why you don't look at it, General? Or maybe you, Colonel Gibbons?"

"Save your energies for our man, Miss Ryder. A lot of good things can happen to you if you can really make him become more willing to cooperate, so to speak."

"Will you invite me to join your little secret club if I do? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"You're a quick learner."

"I've always been and always will be. Show me that man, General, and you'll get whatever you want of him, which by the way is...?"

"Eric, show her the papers."

Colonel Gibbons gave her a small file on a man named Craig Fitzpatrick, an alleged former IRA operative (there were no real evidence pointing to that fact...) who was living in The States for over a decade. He was suspect of involvement with a group of overzealous patriots in the plotting of an armed attack against some eminent members of the Senate. The attack itself never occurred -- they were caught before they had the chance to perpetrate it -- but being as smart as they were, they didn't place all of their eggs in just one basket—there were still a lot of illegal guns at large, stashed somewhere, ready to be used by the next terrorist.

"These guys wanted to make a name for themselves by striking from within. We're pretty sure he served as their liaison in the acquisition of the heavy artillery for the attack and that he knows where they've hidden the surplus, but he keeps denying the charges. The already mentioned drugs and torture didn't work on him at all. We're hoping you can be able to break him gently. If indeed you managed to make a professional soldier act like a child on a stage, I'm sure this poses no real challenge for you."

"Probably not..." and as she finished examining the file, the car came to a halt.

The three occupants stepped out. They had entered what struck her to be a very large underground parking lot, with soft, even-spaced lights placed above their heads. The smell of fresh paint came from the surrounding walls; in front of them; one could see a passageway being guarded by four soldiers. The black man with the twisted scar was one of them. He was the one closest to the brand new king-sized elevator they were about to enter and the only one who shuddered upon seeing her. Alexandra raised her right hand, enabling him to see the ring that she had used to enthrall his senses earlier in time and before the doors were closed, he was crying again from the top of his lungs, just like a young baby wearing a dirty diaper.

Hayes and Gibbons didn't react to the provocation, but they were visibly surprised.

"That was the result of a hypnotic reminiscence." She explained to them. "He liked my ring so much the first time that, when he saw it again, he simply returned to that special state of consciousness he experienced before. He'll snap out of it in no time, without any consequences for his mind whatsoever."

The two men remained speechless, as the machine plunged into the bowels of the Earth. At that time, they already knew that she was the one they were looking for... the way in which she handled Fitzpatrick's stubbornness was but another proof of Alexandra Ryder's infinite charms.

The bald and broad-shouldered Irish man was being held in a rectangular white room in the very center of Underground Level 7. There was a mahogany table in it, along with two equally brown chairs, except these ones were made of plastic. Fitzpatrick was sitting in one and had no cuffs or restraints of any kind, mainly because of the two guards that stood behind him whose primary job was to make sure he didn't try anything foolish. One of them had his camouflaged shirt covered with speckles of fresh blood. That fact was undoubtedly related with the huge bruises on the prisoner's face and jaw. Fitzpatrick was still drowsy with the pain of the recent beatings and didn't utter a word when she sat in front of him, and slowly unbuttoned a portion of her blouse, to allow a little cleavage to show through.

Looking to the right side of the room, she saw a big mirror. As usual, there were people observing what happened from behind it, namely the General and a couple of highly distinguished men. Gibbons had gone into another room to supervise a secret military operation that was bound to take place in the harsh landscapes of Libya somewhere over the next week and missed the whole show. Alexandra couldn't see them but knew they were there. So, she smiled at them and then at Fitzpatrick, who seemed indifferent to it all. As she moved for the blouse again, the pearly skin of her vibrant breasts became more visible.

He looked at it almost instantly. She was the first woman he was seeing ever since he had been captured and after almost twelve days of abuses, he truly felt that such a generous offer shouldn't be declined. The seduction process was on its way...

There was silence in the room for about five minutes, where she did nothing but to look at him while realizing how he was beginning to focus more intensely on the presents she was so willing to share... Occasionally, he would raise his head to look into her ever-smiling face, as hoping for her to say something. When that happened, her hand slid down into the open blouse again, and that was stating that the space between her breasts was the only place he should be looking at. Curious, and at the same time getting aroused by that game of subtle gestures and silence, Fitzpatrick didn't mind playing it, although he was unaware of the significance of the rules. He looked at the unveiled fragments of her bosom, going deeper with each breath... looking for what wasn't there...

"As you've noticed by now, I'm not wearing a bra. I bet you're trying to see my nipples coming out right now, aren't you?" Alexandra asked. "That's naughty of you, but I don't mind... you can actually see them if you continue to look hard enough: just like you're doing right now, but more intensely..." she suggested, drawing his attention further. "If you want to see my hard, erect nipples, you need to make my breasts the center of your world, by looking at them and at them alone... never mind the ghostly walls or the reflections of the lamp on the table... don't worry about the bulked door behind me or the fabric of my blouse... I was brought here for your satisfaction and pleasure alone and I can give you that if you just stare at my breasts... listening to my lovely voice while staring... letting my words bring you inner calm and relaxation... peace and contentment... that's right... feeling pleased to stare and listen, while listening and staring, knowing that the more you stare, the more clear my words become, and that the more this happens, the greater the satisfaction that comes to you for being able to listen to such a beautiful and compelling woman, whose breasts are as magnetic and enticing as her voice that is pulling you more and more now, washing over whatever stray thoughts may still be trying to roam in your mind...

Stare, listen and relax, anticipating the heavenly promise of my nipples completely exposed for your delight... that sight will become a reality soon... you just need to relax deeper, stare deeper, listen deeper and let your spirit fall, as if you are falling down a very large pit, giving yourself to me in the process, yielding to the suggestions I'm planting in your brain... you know you want to do this for you already desire and crave my breasts, you already desire and crave my words and my voice and when you finally get to see my sexy nipples, that desire will turn your head around and you'll fall asleep... asleep into blissful, dreamy submission... your mind completely shut-down and enslaved, unable to resist... yes... Unable to escape... unwilling to displease me... that's right... a little more, now... just a little more... listen, stare, close your eyes and sleep!"

She opened her blouse completely. Fitzpatrick saw her breasts and accepted the conditioning without so much an attempt to break it off. Alexandra had entranced him, and not just him. The two guards were also under her control, after staring and listening just as intensely as the Irish prisoner. She buttoned herself, got up, and while moving closer to the mirror, a question emerged from her lips:

"He's completely hypnotized, General and will keep on being so for as long as I want to. The same can be said about your security-men, and I bet you're feeling kind of drowsy as well in that secret room of yours, aren't you? Is this demonstration sufficient?"

"Yes, Miss Ryder. I believe it is... It is clear to us all that you're just the kind of material we need for this Division." answered Hayes whose mind was spinning uncontrollably. He had been saved by the fact that he couldn't see her nipples flashing in, and now that her breasts were hidden from plain sight once again, the induction was subsiding, slowly vanishing into thin air. The other two men sitting next to him were also hazy and with a slight inclination towards meekness. Had she really wanted it, she could have easily doubled the number of subdued men that day.

"That's just great. I fairly enjoyed the experience and I'm sure I'll enjoy it even more when my real job begins. Now... before I instruct him to reveal all of his dirty secrets to me, I have a few requests... your Division better attend to them in order to ensure my loyalty!"

"That's not a very usual proceeding..."

"Do you want me to turn you into my slave and express my wishes under the form of direct orders instead of simple requests?" she asked all of a sudden.

"No... I really don't want that at all. We'll make sure you have everything you need, Miss Ryder. You can trust my word for it."

"I will, General."

"Then, we have an agreement. Would you mind awakening my men first and then have Fitzpatrick tell us everything he knows?"

"Actually, I'd rather see a dance exhibition first..." she called upon her hypnotized military and they both began waltzing around in the room. They were quite clumsy at it with little or non-existing coordination of movements at all, but the show was entertaining enough. Alexandra clapped and then began the process of extracting information from her new European pet.

Part III - In the Name of Allah

The situation she was now in was very similar to the one involving Fitzpatrick. Agent 47-D had been born from it and her life had started changing for the best, until it reached the peak of true and most welcome satisfaction. Thanks to her special abilities, she was given a brand-new house, two vehicles of her choice and an income that was more than enough for her needs at the time. Being a natural spender, she obviously found new ones, new desires in which to burn her salary to the crisp.

After finishing college, she and her best friend Delia Roberts opened up a clinic for the mentally disturbed. It turned out to be a successful enterprise, but she never actually worked there. Her special assignments caused her to travel much throughout the world and time simply became insufficient to allow her to do a good job on that area. Delia got the fame and glory of the project. She gave in the money whenever needed.

The loving memories of that marvellous day and subsequent achievements walked silently with her until she reached the muslin's private quarters and the short-haired guard at the door granted her access in.

The servant of Islam gave her a cold look, as she invaded his space. Solitude and isolation didn't bother him at all, but the same could not be said about her presence, especially given the fact that she was going against some of the most sacred principles written in The Koran by showing herself in such libidinous outfits. If it were Mohammed being locked there, he would certainly abhor such manifestation of western decadence. That belief was reason enough for him to raise his eyebrows to the camera, make an obscene gesture with his finger and practically scream in a noisy desert dialect. It seems he was demanding respect for his religious principles, but no one in the Surveillance Room heard him: the camera had no audio signal—only the images were patched through.

When he was finished with his complaints, Alexandra knocked on the door to call the guard and asked for a chair, as she really didn't feel like standing. The fatigue of the aerobics exercises was beginning to make her legs grow numb, threatening her delicate balance. The chair was there in less than a minute. She sat and observed the prisoner, placing one hand over her thighs and the other playing cheerfully with the trinket, making it spin soundlessly, giving it a whirl to attract some concealed source of light or simply caressing it with her ivory-black painted fingernails.

The man who was considered to be The United States' Public Enemy Number 1 was curled up on the floor, dressed in fluttering white garments with fine golden embroideries on the sleeves. His greyish hair was loose and in complete disarray. Next to him stood a metal plate with some greasy food (she was pretty sure it was pork, yet another provocation!) and a bowl filled with tap water. None of the referred sustenance had been touched, and truth be told, none of them smelled nicely either.

"I bet these details won't be filed on any report..." she thought. Her face became rigid and she spoke to him for the first time, making use of undisguised irony and a low tone of voice.

"Good afternoon. I hope you're enjoying our stay here with us. My name is Alexandra Ryder and although I know the basics of your language, I won't use it for I also know you understand mine quite well. I must say I never thought I would be face to face with you in a cell, but I'm fairly glad this happened. That way, I get to have my share of delight...

I can guess what you're thinking as I make this opening speech of mine: you're most certainly wondering who I am and why I was sent here to see you. I'm not really allowed to divulge such information to you, nor can I tell you the exact location of this base of ours as I am sure you understand, but I can tell you that we have something in common: that's right, we both believe in a higher power that gives meaning and purpose to the world. I think I can say we're both religious persons, even though my own set of beliefs is somewhat different from yours. If one is better than the other or not, that's not something I think about much, for it's such a futile and trifling question in the end, isn't it? I don't know if you agree with me on this, but you also probably believe that there are certain things in which we shouldn't think at all... it's so tiresome to be thinking all the time... you don't really get to enjoy life at all with that attitude... that's why I often pause my flow of thoughts from time to time so that I can really cease the moment and understand with my heart, not with my brain. I know it's not an easy thing to do... to just relax and let go in a simple and smooth way... Somehow, thinking always shows up in-between, disrupting the peace and quiet my self truly desires... in order to prevent that from happening, I usually grab something in my hand and I make it move around my fingers as if my soul is sliding along with it, drifting into a mellow horizon that lies far, far away...

Since your hands are empty at the moment and you're obviously feeling a little tense for being trapped in such a small space, perhaps you would like for that stress to go away by looking at how I give life to this crescent, a symbol which I understand you cherish very much... it represents power, doesn't it?... power, strength, control... oh, my... I can really see why now that it's moving in small circles and each movement is deeply locked with the movement after and the movement before, creating a rhythmic chain that seems to engulf my eyes, drawing my attention in the same way it is drawing yours... making me want to keep looking at it and follow its sequential path without feeling the need to think why this is happening, in fact, giving away all the burden of wide-awakeness and simply melt in it... melt by looking at its moving reflections, melt by realizing that everything is so much more obvious in its colour and winding shape and that if it feels good to slowly be relinquishing all your energies in observing it, then it's almost certain that the same thing should happen by guiding some of that attention into the person that makes it move.

The relaxation you're feeling taking control of your mind right is also a product of my gestures, it lives in my voice. If this crescent fascinates you, which I know it does, and I'm the one responsible for it, I truly believe that your drooping, melting soul is equally ensnared by me and that giving into it, is the same thing as giving yourself to me.

Being the symbol of Islam, this crescent represents the power of the Almighty Allah, the god you serve with every action you take, the god you invoke when calling out for the Jihad, the one that apparently rejoices when a suicide bomber blows up himself and takes the lives of many innocent people along the way... when you look into it, you're looking into the manifestation of the god itself, and I'm the one pulling the god's string... yes... if you love Allah, you love me... Drawn as deeply as you are right now, your non-thinking brain is wishing only to submit to the crescent, to acknowledge its power... you're renewing your faith with each passing second, making Allah very pleased, making me very pleased... The pleasure from that renewal is vivid, intense, and completely addictive. You know this is true... you're addicted to it... addicted to my voice... she's inside your head now... you're engulfed by it... deliciously overwhelmed...