That night in Elena's apartment, around midnight, Pierre was dressing himself while Elena hid under a blanket. Her blouse, skirt, lacy bra, and untied underwear lay scattered on the floor. Elena's breathing was still deep and rapid. Pierre, meanwhile, stood adjusting his shirt and pants, showing no trace of fatigue.
"Are you going back to work?" Elena asked.
"Yeah, it's about the chamber leak from this morning," Pierre replied.
"Any news?"
"Too much pressure inside the chamber," Pierre said.
"How is that possible?" The chamber was designed to automatically regulate its pressure.
Pierre met her gaze, his expression uncertain. "I'm not sure."
Elena's worry deepened. "Take me with you," she urged, rising from the bed, her bare, toned body illuminated by the moonlight. Pierre stepped close, wrapping his arms around her.
"It's okay, Elena. I can handle it. This is the director's duty," he said, patting her gently to ease her nerves.
"But…" Elena began, still anxious. Pierre silenced her with a soft kiss, then left the room. Elena watched his figure disappear into the darkness.
—
Elena's Lab, 2:00 AM
The NRE building stood empty, its sections shrouded in darkness. Only the faint hum of machines echoed through the halls. In a cold, dimly lit lab on the left wing, the door slid open. A transparent figure slipped inside, its footsteps silent and precise. The air shifted faintly around it, hinting at its presence.
The intruder approached a console beside a chamber storing human brain samples. Removing a mask, the figure revealed long, straight blonde hair. The console's screen illuminated the intruder's face—Dora Romanov, Elena's colleague.
Months earlier, Dora had infiltrated the Reichland's neural research program. Granitz's security was formidable, requiring clearance, exceptional scientific or engineering skills, and rigorous background checks. For an agent like Dora, forging academic records and credentials was second nature. Many agents had been exposed during such scrutiny, but Dora had succeeded. Now embedded in the NRE, she covertly transmitted data to her homeland, Yorkland. Despite sending multiple reports, she had received no response, likely for security reasons to minimize communication.
As usual, she infiltrated the lab using Yorkland's high-tech invisibility suit, leaving no trace on security cameras.
"This suit is tight," she muttered, unzipping it to her chest for relief, her breasts bounced off as if they about to explode.
"Phew, much better." The cold lab air brushed her exposed skin.
She typed on the console, opened a report file, and scrolled through its contents.
Her contact lenses recorded everything, storing the data on a private server in her apartment.
"To think that bitch made this much progress ahead of us," Dora murmured, her tone bitter.
"Kidnapping her would make more sense." She continued reading, her voice dripping with disdain.
"That flashy, shameless bitch."
The report detailed a breakthrough: "The secret of this cryoprotectant is trehalose. The disaccharide prevents ice formation."
Dora focused intently on the report, unaware of the looming threat approaching.
The lab's temperature dropped from 16°C to -1°C. Dora began to shiver as cold air swept over her exposed skin. The thin invisibility suit offered no insulation. She zipped it up fully, minimizing heat loss. Her hands typed more slowly as the temperature dropped to -10°C. Icicles formed on the lab floor and desk. Dora struggled to breathe, the tight suit and falling air pressure constricting her chest.
"What… is… happening?" she murmured, her trembling voice forming icy wisps in the air.
"I… need… to… get… out," she gasped. Though trained to endure extreme conditions, prolonged exposure to this cold and low pressure pushed her beyond her limits. She tried to boost her blood circulation by moving her limbs.
The temperature sank to -20°C. With no time to cover her tracks, Dora hurried to the lab door and pressed the open button.
It didn't budge. She pressed repeatedly, attempting to bypass the system, but nothing worked. Panic surged as she realized she was trapped in the freezing lab. It would be at least five hours before anyone arrived—she might not survive that long.
Thirty minutes passed with the temperature stabilized at -20°C. Dora had no food or water. The invisibility suit's battery died, reverting to a thin, tight black synthetic-leather covering from neck to toe. Her mask made breathing even harder in the low-pressure environment. Her lips dried and cracked beneath it. Her body hair stood on end, and her skin burned with cold.
As thoughts of death crept in, memories of her husband came in. She longed for him to save her, but he was in Yorkland, far from her solitary mission in the Reichland.
My duty! she thought, slapping her cheeks to stay awake.
The pain kept her alert for a moment, but soon her face went numb. Barely able to move, she curled into a ball, feeling utterly alone, murmuring of her husband.
As her consciousness began to fade, the lab door slid open. Warmer air rushed in, thawing her slightly. Mustering her remaining strength, she crawled toward the exit.
Halfway out, her head bumped into something. She reached out slowly, feeling a muscular leg clad in pants and shoes.
A guard? I need to escape, she thought, but no words emerged. Exhaustion and relief overwhelmed her, made she fainted, vaguely aware of someone lifting her. "Richard…" she whispered.
—
Somewhere in the NRE Building – Pierre's Secret Lab
Dora awoke with no sense of how long she had been unconscious. Her eyes darted around, trying to discern her surroundings. She found herself restrained, her wrists and ankles chained to a bed-like structure tilted upright. Her invisibility suit, its battery depleted, was now a thin, black synthetic-leather covering. Her mask was removed and the suit was unzipped, exposing her chest and midriff. Her pose resembled those in adult video.
Where am I? she thought. This wasn't the lab. The room was unfamiliar, filled with consoles and monitors glowing softly in the dim light. Focusing, she noticed someone seated in a chair, studying one of the screens.
"You there! Help, please!" she called out. The chair swiveled, revealing a familiar face—Pierre Therma, the NRE's director.
"Mr. Therma? Why are you here, and where am I?" Questions spilled from her lips, but Pierre remained silent, his gaze fixed on her.
She repeated. "Mr. Therma?"
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" she said, raising her voice.
"I just saved you from hypothermia. A thank you would be nice," Pierre said calmly, breaking his silence.
"Uh… I'm sorry, sir. Thank you for saving my life," Dora replied, her words stiff, as if read a script.
"You're welcome." Pierre stood and approached her.
"I have many questions for you, Miss Dora Romanov," he said, his tone carrying an edge, as if he knew more than he let on.
"I forgot something and went back to the lab to get it. Then the lab locked, and it got freezing cold," she said, her voice soft and feigned innocence. Trying to deceive him.
Pierre exhaled, unconvinced by her explanation.
"In an invisibility suit, with contact lens cameras, a laser gun, a pistol, and a cyanide capsule?" Pierre gestured to a nearby tray holding her tools, which he had collected while she was unconscious. Then his voice became deeper,
"Especially the cyanide capsule. It does not fit well with your researcher role."
"Let's be honest, Miss Romanov...
—or should I call you...
...Agent Susan Deers?"
Dora? Susan?
Her true identity had been revealed!!!