Spectre: Affair of Legends

The paths of the Legend and the Legendary cross...

Another tale of Spectre: Special Operative 221

Transcript: Even among the distinguished crowd, a brief but noteworthy lull pervaded the grand ballroom at The Lady Burgess’s entrance. Heralded by silent fanfare, Cassandra Burgess was one of only a few young women, but undisputedly the most striking, who dared enter unaccompanied—a bold move, but she wasn’t known for her delicacy. No, Cassandra Burgess was a siren, renowned for her wicked charms and irresistible allure, though it were the rumors of her more private exploits that made her legendary. It was no question why she had caught the attention of and garnered an invitation to the charity ball from His Serene Highness Pierre II, Prince of Monaco himself! Whispers had circulated for weeks that the Prince was looking for a new bride. His previous marriage had ended sourly in an affair, and his new mistress had failed to satiate his appetite. Being astute, The Lady Burgess had naturally declined the Prince’s repeated invitations, but pleasantly surprised everyone the evening of by arriving at the event. 

Of course, no one would be more astonished to learn of her appearance than Cassandra Burgess herself, because the iconic enchantress entering now was none other than an imposter! But no one would be able to tell. Her imposter had done his work carefully. Squeezed into the eerily life-like bodysuit and mask, the sly operative known only as Spectre had become indistinguishable from the real thing. Spectre had spent weeks watching surveillance footage, studying and learning Cassandra’s every habit, mannerism, and tendency, until he could initiate them all immaculately. No one would ever guess anything was amiss until the next morning. The integrity of his disguise had already been tested. An evening spent with one of Cassandra’s former flames had already proven that. 

Despite the numerous possibilities, becoming Cassandra had only been a way for Spectre to enter the Prince’s highly guarded quarters and obtain copies of the necessary documents without alerting anyone to a possible breach in secrecy. Spectre anticipated little difficulty in eliciting an invitation to the Prince’s private chambers after an evening of flirtatious but calculated foreplay. Then, after all eyes and ears, human and electronic, had been discharged for confidentiality, a small injection of flunitrazepam from a nanosyringe concealed within the edge of a French tipped nail would provide Spectre all the time he needed to execute his mission. All Spectre needed to do now was to catch the Prince’s attention; once he got close enough, his potent pheromone laced perfume would take care of the rest. 

A dark, heavy accent cut short his train of thought. Speak of the devil. Spectre had listened to that voice enough times during training to recognize it even in his sleep: it was the Prince. Glancing softly over ‘her’ shoulder, ‘Cassandra’ received the Prince warmly with a well-practiced bewitching smile. All was proceeding as planned.