Thanks to Alicia Ortiz for the awesome illustrations. Check out her other great art here.
The Super Secret Agency battles crime on a level that shouldn't exist. Agents Milkshakes, Sugar Lips, Agents Amphibian Queen, and Bunnynose face off against the likes of mimes, Homebase Security, the lines at the porta potties, exploding puzzle boxes, baseball fanatics, a zombie flash mob, and the fish that got away to name a few. Follow these lovely girls of mystery as they are called on to escort a tanker of 'happy' milk to Billy Bonka’s chocolate factory. Or their task to infiltrate the mysterious island posing as free range chicken specialists— Chicktopia. And not to mention, the perfect storm of trouble that lies in red light districts, a run through “The Pen”, cock fights, and a betrayal they never saw coming. All while looking good.
Meet the Babes
Sugar Lips and Milkshakes
Agent Sugar Lips*
Height:
5’-4”
Years
with The Super Secret Agency: New Recruit
Preferred
Gun: Mark III Hi-Powered Browning Pistol
Strength:
She can play men like a professional violinist
Weakness:
Cute shoes
Name
origin: *Graduates from “Agent Smith” due to Rob Harker and the taste of a
neurotoxin
A Glimpse of Agent Sugar
Lips
It didn’t help that Agent Smith had to stand up straight to get to
the five foot four inch mark. That’s why she usually wore heels. That and they
made her legs look fantastic.
The two men in suits coming down the hall seemed to think so.
Agent Smith smiled as they passed, knowing her red lipstick was in perfect
order.
Super Secret Agent Supervisor Mud shook her head. “I’m on a tight
schedule. Your partner should be in her office. I will make introductions and
give the two of you your first assignment.”
Agent Smith nodded. They passed several doors that bore tarnished,
brass name plates engraved with names like Black Turtle, Water Sprite, and Bed
Head.
Bed Head? What was this, the department of bad names?
Agent Milkshakes
Height:
5’-5”
Years
with The Super Secret Agency: 3
Preferred
Gun: Unknown
Strength:
Cool, calm and collective. Plus she makes the best chocolate milkshakes anyone
has ever tasted.
Weakness:
Good food and all things geeky
Name
origin: She foolishly made milkshakes for everyone during an all-nighter case.
It stuck.
A Glimpse into Milkshakes
The
sound of a phone being picked up came through the wall. The click click of
buttons came just before Milkshakes’ phone started to vibrate in her pocket.
It
took almost everything she had not to let out a cry of dismay, and the rest
went toward not falling off her perch and breaking her neck. She pulled her
phone out as Amphibian Queen opened the door. Milkshakes tumbled off of her
pile and squeezed through the gap. With the phone still vibrating in her hand,
she looked at the caller ID. Sure enough, Mud.
“Milkshakes
here,” she said in greeting.
“I
need you to pull the security cameras from all of the locations and times that
I am about to send you. Coordinate with Intel and make sure you have this
entire route mapped out in less than an hour.”
“Uh…”
Milkshakes said.
“Considering
the four of you are piled into the supply closet adjoining my office, I don’t
think that you need any further explanation.” Mud hung up.
Milkshakes stared at her phone for a second before shaking her
head and grinning. How did the supervisor do that? It’s like the woman had eyes
in every crack, corner, ceiling tile, and fiber of carpet in the building.
Amphibian Queen and Bunnynose
Agent Amphibian Queen
Height:
5’-9”
Years
with The Super Secret Agency: 2
Preferred
Gun: Kahr P9
Strength:
Stealthy, subtle and artistic. Blends in.
Weakness:
Tiny things. She thinks they’re adorable.
Name
origin: Something involving a frog. She doesn’t talk about it.
A Glimpse of Agent
Amphibian Queen
The aromatic garland of white orchids, yellow lilies, and baby
blue morning glory hung over the metal detector like drapes, failing to hide
the dirty, off-white housing underneath. Even after calling in a third florist
and an extra bundle of greenery, Super Secret Agent Amphibian Queen couldn’t
figure out how to disguise the machine.
“Maybe a few more on this side,” she said, squinting her eyes in
an attempt to picture the results of her suggestion. The sun beat down on them
like a hammer, and she really wanted a cool, refreshing Hilly Dew.
“It’s a metal detector,” Agent Bunnynose said, crossing her arms
over her stomach and glaring. Sweat plastered the stray tendrils of hair to the
back of her neck. “It’s not supposed to be pretty.”
Amphibian Queen ignored her partner. Agent Bunnynose had been
rampaging since they’d touched down in LA the day before. She must be at a
delicate time of the month, Amphibian Queen decided. She would need to send
someone for snacks. Agent Bunnynose was prone to random acts of violence if not
kept sufficiently fed.
Agent Bunnynose
Height:
5’-4”
Years
with The Super Secret Agency: 2 1/2
Preferred
Gun: Custom Les Baer Centennial 1911
Strength:
Hand to hand combat expert
Weakness:
Lack of snacks makes her want to punch everyone
Name
origin: Agent Bunnynose refuses to comment, and assaults anyone who does
A Glimpse of Agent
Bunnynose
The sun shone overhead with extra vigor, bouncing off the ocean
and smacking Agent Bunnynose in the face like a huge, rubber mallet. The small
boat hit the crest of a swell and started down the other side, causing the
liquid in Bunnynose’s ears to slosh back and forth. The contents of her stomach
gathered for evacuation.
Why boats? she asked herself. Her fingers tightened around the railing, and
she stared hard at the horizon—trying to ignore the up and down, up and down.
The only thing holding her together was the nip of the chilly October air
biting at her face and hands. She thought about ripping off her light jacket,
and maybe even her jeans to expose more skin. However, the prospect of getting
tossed overboard and found in her underwear and a Giddy Bunny T-shirt stopped
her.
“You should have used the motion sick meds before we left the
office,” Amphibian Queen said.
Her tone suggested she meant well, but all Bunnynose heard was,
“You’re such an idiot.”
“Want me to go get something for you?” Amphibian Queen asked.
No. Yes. Bunnynose shook her head—bad idea. Her stomach heaved,
and she let out an involuntary groan.
“I’ll be right back.” Amphibian Queen patted Bunnynose on the
shoulder
The Other Characters
Supervisor
Mud:
Height: 5’-9”
Years
with The Super Secret Agency: Unknown. People are afraid to ask.
Preferred
Gun: She relies on tongue lashings
Strength:
All agents are pretty sure she’s got eyes in the back of her head.
Weakness:
Strange attachment to a 10+ year old cell phone
Name
origin: No one knows
The sound of jogging feet came through the wood. The door swung
open part way, revealing a tall, muscular woman with olive skin and long, dark
hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Oh, hey Mud,” the woman said with a bright
smile.
“Amphibian Queen,” the Supervisor said stiffly. “Is Milkshakes
here? I tried calling, but no one answered.”
Agent Amphibian Queen smiled and turned her eyes on Agent Smith.
“Is this our newbie?”
“Agent Smith,” Mud said, staring at Amphibian Queen. “Is
Milkshakes in?”
“She’s, uh…” Amphibian Queen didn’t get to finish.
The theme song from Implausible Assignment started to play.
“Blast,” Mud said, fishing around in her suit jacket pocket. She
came up empty-handed and tried the other side. This time she emerged with an
ancient cell phone. Mud studied the screen for a moment. “I have to take this,”
she said, jerking her head toward Amphibian Queen. “Find Milkshakes, deliver
Agent Smith, and give her this.”
An envelope appeared in Mud’s hand. Amphibian Queen took it.
Mud gave Agent Smith a nod and stepped away, pressing the answer
button on the phone. “Mud here.”
Agent Black
Turtle
Height:
6’-0”
Years
with The Super Secret Agency: 3
Preferred
Gun: It must be shiny
Strength:
Computer expert as well as dare devil
Weakness:
Shiny things
Name
origin: He brought it on himself
Agent Milkshakes entered and interrupted the techno babble.
“Problem?”
“Something about looping and mice,” Agent Smith said, shrugging.
Agent Milkshakes shook her head. “And this guy is trying to
help?” she asked, gesturing toward Agent Black Turtle.
He shooed her away with his hand. “That’s enough out of you,
little missy.”
“Don’t you remember what happened the last time you offered
computer help?” Agent Milkshakes said, a wicked smile stretching across her
face. “If I recall correctly, the traffic grid around Chicago was out for over
an hour.”
Agent Black Turtle shot up, turned around, and waggled a finger in
Agent Milkshakes’ face. “That wasn’t my fault. That was the F.B.I.”
“The F.B.I. working under your direction.” She turned to Agent
Smith. “I believe he said, ‘Try that one over there. We haven’t hit that button
yet.’”
“That’s not how it happened,” Agent Black Turtle said, huffing and
shooting a narrow-eyed look at the tech, who hid a smirk behind his hand.
Agent Big Foot
Height:
6’-2”
Years
with The Super Secret Agency: 1 1/2
Preferred
Gun: Not picky
Strength:
Flirting-on all sides
Weakness:
Can’t leave a damsel in distress
Name
origin: Hairy chest
Curiosity overwhelmed the urge to vomit, and Agent Smith opened
her eyes again. She found the man shaking his head, listening to his phone.
“Fine, you upset her and I will turn you over to that cult of
hairdressers that we busted last month. What did they say about you? ‘Ohh baby,
he’s gorgeous.’?”
This time a muffled cry of protest came through the phone.
The man grinned. “Just try to be a gentleman, Black Turtle. See
what happens. Go see Mud and get back down here.”
He rolled his eyes, listened for a moment, and then hung up. “That
guy…” His gaze fell on Agent Smith and his grin widened into a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said. The pheromones, it seemed, were not the entire
reason for her thinking this guy was hot earlier. He stood relaxed and filled
out his button-down shirt in a very pleasing manner. His reddish hair, a little
mussed, framed his chiseled face, with a day’s worth of appealing stubble, and
his bright, blue eyes. The smile he gave her made her knees go weak. Or would
have, had she been standing.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, stepping toward the bed.
“Terrible,” she said.
“Oh good.” He let out a chuckle. “I thought you might be ready to
go ice skating or something. But I’m not exactly up for it.” He pointed at the
slung shoulder with the phone still in his other hand.
“Is that from, uh, me?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Just what happens in the line of duty.”
Their eyes lingered on one another until he coughed, cleared his
throat, and took a step forward, offering his uninjured hand. “I’m Agent Big
Foot…”
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