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The sudden darkness engulfed me as I felt every muscle in my body was rapidly switched-off one by one. In that split second, my reflex told me to resist. But it was useless. It was my first blackout and I remembered feeling afraid. One thing managed to slip into my thought before my mind and my body plunged into an infinite absence of light. My first solo mission. A failure. Man, am I gonna die?! All of a sudden, an overwhelming force bombarded me and pulled me to all directions. A raging gravity torn my soul, crumpling my psyche like it was a piece of paper. And then, the weirdest thing happened. I saw - with my inner eyes - flashes of pictures, million of pictures, video clips played in speed of light. People faces, clad in different clothes and fashions, with different expressions - simultaneously smiling, laughing, crying, shouting. Somehow they were looking and talking at me. Like they were doing interviews in front of a handycam . I couldn't hear what they said. The speeches were so inaudible it sounded more like sharp chirps, piercing every inch of my consciousness. The image pelted me faster and faster. So fast, they became just an endless stream of colors and uncanny patterns, glowing beautifully. The chirping shrilled into a high pitch shriek followed by a humming sound which grew larger and larger. Psychedelic. Out of sudden, the stream of colors merged into one, becoming white strands that swarmed around me. The humming sound disappeared. And I could hear my heart beat slower. And then, still in the darkness, I regained my orientation. My sense was active one more. And I was alarmed with things around me. Somehow I knew that I was in a secluded dark room. I tried to grab something around me, moving my hands in every direction to find a platform or handles for my body to lean on as I saw one yellow dot of light in the pitch-black darkness. I squinted my eyes to see it better. Curious and panicked, I dashed toward the light. As I ran to it, I saw it became clear to me that it was a golden doorknob. I grabbed the knob and pulled it open. It was so heavy that I felt like I was pulling a gigantic gate, revealing.... A beautiful face framed in white glasses and brunette hair looking at me. Samantha's face (My own face, I am back). Suddenly I sensed my body jerked back and screeched. "Omigod...omigod....omigod.....omigod". My Samantha's lips said in shock, in my own male voice! (But hey, I didn't say that...What the fuck?! ). Out of blue, my hands ran through the surface of the bathroom sink, wall and then went across my body without hesitation, They stopped on my breast and started cupping my padded breasts, the pair of tits I had used as Kimberly Goldman. Meanwhile my neck turned to all directions, trying to find orientation for myself. Something's definitely wrong, here. Something that I hadn't got any warning about. I was still awake but I couldn't do anything. I was buried in deep sleep paralysis and having the worst dream of terror. I felt a strange rush of terror in my body. Something inside me said that this place was foreign. But that's odd. I knew where I was. I was preparing to meet my target, Igor Valentine. That's the task my Mendez had assigned me to do. "Relax, dude.. relax," I tried to utter these words to calm myself, but what came out of my masked lips was my own voice: "Why am I in fucking a toilet? What am I doing here?" I stammered. (Oh shit!) My hands flew to my neck, rubbing the surface of my throat. "What happened to my voice!" My palm moved around my breasts, squeezing them hard. "Euuh..are these my boobs?!" Then it hit me. Somehow I had lost control of my body! Something ... no, someone possessed me, gaining control of my body? Who could it be? Samantha Hoist? But this is not her body! (and how?) I could feel all the movement in my body. I could even feel all the feelings running through my head. But somehow I could not grab the wheel and steer this body anymore. (This is mad. Definitely have to abort the mission) "My phone! Where's my cellphone!" suddenly I heard Samantha/me hissing uncontrollably. I was stuck as an observer. I could only watch as my hands went into the bag and started rummaging things out. Then I felt my hand found the cellphone, snatched it and started pressing buttons in hurry. "Gotta get outta here!" I heard myself whispering and I could sense my torso turned around. My feet began to glide toward the toilet door beyond my command. (Hold on...Wait... stop, bitch!) I was trapped inside my own body. Hijacked by some unknown force while masking as a woman I didn't know nothing about. I tried to break out but to no avail. Suddenly, the cellphone in my hand vibrated and the screen lit. Incoming call. I - I mean, my hand - lifted it to take a closer look . I knew that number. It was one of the secret agency's crisis hotline number. "Hallo?" I heard myself said. "Relax, buddy" a female voice with thick Indian, probably Pakistani accent, answered back. "Who's this?" Samantha-in-my-body kept walking, approaching the door to exit the ladies room. "There was a glitch in the mask. I'm almost done fixing it." Whoever that woman is, she was definitely talking to me, not to the current possessor of my body. "Mask? What mask? ..." Samantha said as she reached the door handle and opened the door. "Be prepared, buddy," the other woman cut her off, not paying any attention to Samantha's comment. "Cos' this gonna hurt a bit." All of the sudden, jolts of pain stroke me right in temple. Hurt like hell. I thought I was knocked down . Seconds later, I magically felt my grasps on the door handle and the phone were becoming firmer and more controlled. I realized that I was back on board, in control of my own body. "Don't be happy yet, buddy. You got job a finish," said the Indian- accented woman. "And you need me around." "Who are you?" I said, feeling somewhat relaxed hearing Samantha's voice came out from her borrowed lips, as I intended. "I'm a 'muse' from IT dep. Just call me Padma." 'Muse' is an idiom we used in the agency for technicians and machinist in bodysuit technology. Unlike disguise specialist like me, who are field operatives, Muses are specially trained as a supporting system in advancing and creating disguise method based on the requirement of a mission. "Muses are not supposed to be in field," I said to her. I kept telling myself to use the voice of Samantha Hoist. "I know my job-desc, thank you. Sir," Padma replied sarcastically. "But when you got a secret telegram delivered from top level officials, instructing you to fly across the Atlantic to help a "damsel" in distress, then you don't have much option except to pack your toys and hop on the next jet, right?" This woman is indeed one of us. She used the word "Damsel" right in context. The exact acronym was actually DMSL. It stands for Disguise and Masked Special Liaison - which basically means "secret agent in deep cover". I rarely heard that term spoken among field operatives. Field duties are lonely occupations. Agents are so busy immersing themselves in their disguises, mingling with the targets, it was easy to forget that we are not the only impersonators around. That we're a part of a big secret family of pretenders. Which reminded me of my "current family". Bruce Goldman a.k.a. Dad a.k.a Virginia Mendez, our team leader and our beloved point man: Ronny Cho as Miranda Goldman or simply, mom. I guess Ron could not do much to help me. I knew he would stay in character as Miranda Goldman and would prefer to monitor the mission outside the perimeter. In addition, Mendez might be preoccupied and had to coordinate other things. "Ok buddy," Padma's thick accent snapped me back to reality. And I could heard metal clangs as she talked and moved around. She was busy handling gadgets and stuffs. "Back to work, now. You must meet your target at Frazetta, right? So, chop-chop!" "Where are you?" "First, leave this ladies room. Be In character as Samantha Hoist. We'll talk on your way there. The signal is secured and we can use a couple of minutes. " This woman was telling me how to do my job. Crap. I took a deep breath and summoned all my mental focus. I opened the door and came out as Samantha Houst, whose identity I adopted. As I closed the door, I almost bump into an old lady who was entering the ladies room. To her, I might appear like a super busy woman who had just received her one of girlfriends while she was freshening up in the ladies room. I emphasized this act by putting the cellphone between my shoulder and cheek while my hands rummaged the inside of my handbag. Then I found myself at the main corridor of the mall with boutiques and shops around me. I could see the reflection of Samantha Hoist on the windows. The mall was getting crowded as the office hour ended. It's weekend, anyway. I realized that I need to speak in lower tone in order to blend in better with the people around me. "Padma, Would you mind enlighten me, please?" "I am here to assist you, buddy. No more that." "Do you have anything to do with what happened in the toilet? What was happening? "Relax," she said. "You're fine.." "Explain." "Umm... where to start? Okay. You already know that persona you have now belongs to a woman named Samantha Hoist. She's supposed to meet a man, Igor Valentine." Padma sounded like she was reciting a message. "Yes, and then...." "Well, the thing is that the agency didn't have much information to brief you about Ms Hoist. Samantha was not in the main list of suspects. She's been out of the radical loop for some time. Then, twenty hous ago, we received the intel about today's meeting 20 hours ago." "How important is this meeting?" "That's for you to find out." "But I never meet this Igor guy. I don't even know what he looks like. How am I supposed to nail this mission?" "That's where I came in. You see, just 40 minutes ago, as the real Samantha headed to the mall, I stopped, pretending to be a tourist asking for directions. She didn't respond well, though. The girl's a racist bitch. "Wait up, protocol said that you are not allowed to approach her. She might remember." "They gave license to disguise as a Korean tourist," she sounded bubbly. "FYI, I'm actually Pakistani by the way. Hold on, I'm sending you some visuals. Watch me on your right eye." Like a magic, suddenly the right lens of my cat-eye glasses flickered and I saw images of a girl a pink sweatshirt jabbing her fingers on what looked like a beaten keyboard. In first glance, all I could see was her brown palms, neck and chin. She was surrounded by gadgets and monitor. The interior seemed like the cargo space in a truck She stopped typing, grabbed the webcam and adjusted its position, giving me better look on her profile. The weird thing about her was her face. Her copper cheeks and chin were pronounced and firm. But her facial skin became white and pale starting from her nose up to her eyes and forehead. Her eyes crescent-shaped eyes glued to the direction slightly away from the webcam. She was half masked. Behind her, I glanced a woman's body sprawled on a mattress. Samantha Hoist, the real one, was unconscious. Cables scattered away around her. " Sorry for being so grotesque. Almost forgot that showing true face is against the protocol. But the mask is old and I'm burning inside. It's last century's technology. Korean War, I guess. They didn't allow me to use the new ones..." I just rolled my eyes. Techs should never be in field. They didn't have the training to stay inside a mask for long time. " Padma, we're getting closer to the venue. What else do you have on Samantha?" "Right now, the real Samantha is with me in a van somewhere the city. I kept her sedated and now she's ready to help you being her." "How...? "That's what the mask for." "You mean the one I'm wearin' now? This damned thing? The thing almost killed me." "Just call it a 'client-mask'. It is actually wired to the real Samantha. She's going to be 'the server', providing database like memories, mannerisms and everything you need to perfect your disguise." "So you're going to be 'the network administrator' for this." "Exactly, my role is just to manage the transmission, downloading data. As a troubleshooter, so to speak." It there were people eavesdropping on my side conversation, they would think that I was just talking about laptops and PC stuff. Deep inside, I was astounded by how masking technology had advanced. Couple years ago, when I first joined the agency. It was limited to the ol' latex and wig combo. Only high-ranking officers have permit to use full bodysuits and they gained this access through many tests and medications, after perfectly studying their targets for years. But now, the mask currently covering my heard was a walking personal computer, wired to a real person. And I have all the access I need to mimic her perfectly. "How can I access her mind?" "Unfortunately, I can't pick and choose the information for you. What I can do is to increase the bandwidth and let batches of info flow freely from her to you. You yourself must pick and suit these info according to the situation you face in field." "That doesn't sound very convincing." "Well, actually nobody had tried this method before." "You mean I'd be the first? Like a guinea pig?" I hissed. "It's an honor, don't you think? Salute for your endurance, buddy. You managed to survive the first batch when I booted the operating system. Now your body is conditioned and ready for the next ones." I sighed. This explained the psychedelic episode. I understood what Padma meant by the "first batch". I noticed that my mannerism and gesture were now more natural. My pace was light and a little bit dragging, my heels hit the floor in the right intensity. I wet and bit my lower lip, then realized that it was also a habit Samantha has when she was nervous. This was still my body, with Kimberly padded breast , yet my face and character were Samantha's. "Have you found something about the target?" Padma said. "I'm going to google it, " I chuckled as Samantha. I breathed deeply and tried to search any information about Igor Valentine in my mind. I instantly conclused that this batch only covered the last five years of Samantha's life. "By the way, the visual feed is only one way, buddy. Just like the protocol said. Means that, you can see me but I can't see you. So keep talking to the phone. After this, you're on your own." "I've got nothing, Padma. Nada." "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Then, I'm gonna send you the next batch. Here we go." On the right lens, I saw her typing rapidly. "How many batch are you sending?" I asked. "Fifty percent." "Don't risk it, send me all of them." "No can do, It might fry your brain out." "Just send it." "Are you crazy?" " You're jeopardizing the mission, Padma." " It's never been tried before. We have to conduct more tests, experiments..." "This is an order!" "OK, but don't blame if you're turned into vegetables. I won't take any responsibility." I saw an elevator opened. Nobody was inside. I slipped into it and press 7. If I was to received batches of Samantha's personality and memory. This would be the best time and place. "Field agents are so typicaaaal," I could heard Padma complaining. "Everything is always about me, me , me and my mission." "Send.it.now," I gritted my teeth. "OK,OK. Keep in mind that It's a big batch. Her brain wave will cost us our communication signal. You're going to lose the visual feed too" "Hit me baby one more time," I said to her as the elevator door was closed. Padma's image was suddenly gone from my right lens. Here goes the revelation, I thought. I heard a loud ring, like a hundred cars honking directly to me, followed by the stream of images pouring at me, jabbing every inch of my body. Blow after blow. And I felt that I was about to explode. The phone slipped from my hand and fell on the corner of the floor. As I tried to reach for it , I saw the nails in my finger were getting longer and polished. The skin was also getting lighter, too. The images was jam-packed in my head, causing my neck to snap uncontrollably. I clenched my jaw , try to contain the pain inside me. I let out a slight moan. Then, the loud noise disappeared. The stream of images dissolved. The elevator dinged. Seventh floor. I picked my cell phone from the floor, stepped out and saw the Italian restaurant several feet away. I was about to approach the belly of the beast. There was still one minute before I reached the place. I used this moment to search everything relevant about Igor Valentine. The information came to me naturally as if I had lived the life and memory of Samantha Hoist. In my mind I saw Igor as a tough short brute, almost like a bestial midget. He was bald and always had cigars in her mouth. His face was asymmetrical, with eyes so black like a lizard eyes. This was a guy that would get notified in mall full of teenagers. I continued to search more about him. I found that that Samantha and Igor had joined an underground radical movement in Switzerland ten years ago. We - Samantha as me and Igor - were sent to a training facilities in central Asia. He came out as the best trainee. We never met before afterwards. Images of news clipping scattered in my mind. All of them featured Igor as one of the terrorist creating havoc in many countries. He was wanted in five continents as a fugitive. But today he called me, asking me to meet him at this mall. I wonder how he is now. Does he still remember me? After so many years? I realized that I was thinking as Samantha. I was aware that her impulses managed to slip into my consciousness. I tried to resist her by being more and more focus. This is my body, my brain. Samantha was just a package of temporary databytes stored in somewhere in the back of my brain. I strutted to the entrance of the restaurant. A waiter came and asked me whether I had an appointment or not. I told her I was waiting for somebody while glancing behind the waiter's back, scanning the tables to find Igor. Seconds later, I already sat at one corner near the kitchen's door where I could watch the scene around the restaurant. I stirred the cup of coffee I just ordered. Watching the small tide formed inside the glass, I smell the coffee and my thoughts wandered back in time. ... .. . It was 2001. A deserted plateau in the highland of Siberia. I was sitting at a surface of a boulder. That afternoon, the cold air pierced my coat and froze all my bones. The breeze wafted my Ushanka and long strands of hair drifted around my face. From a distant, I saw a short man with rifle in his hand walking toward me. A dead sheep on his shoulder. His other hand dragged a corpse. He had killed our target. The assassination plot was successful. "Samantha," I heard Igor called me. His Russian accent was intimidating and icy. I stood up to embrace him, calling his name. I remembered feeling happy. Then the scene jumped to dinner. The day was still clear as the sun seemed never setting at that time. We were sitting across each other. Between us, a campfire providing us sufficient warmth. I gor was devouring meat ferociously, like a wild animal devouring its prey. I remembered thinking if the meat he was guttling belonged to the sheep or the person he shot. "Samantha," he said in Russian. Somehow I could understand him clearly. "I guess we have to take separate ways." "Are you sure?" I replied in Russian as well. He nodded, biting another portion of meat. Then he looked stared at me with his black eyes. " The mission was accomplished. I just needed one shot. But the police will be looking for us. Siberia is a vast place. It will take some time, but they will find us if we stay here. You must return to America. You can take a train to Vladivostok, travel cross to Japan and fly straight to Hawaii or New York. Use the fake passport." "And what will happen to you? When we'll meet again? "Don't bother. I will find you." That was the last time I saw him. ... .. . I took a deep breath again and the aroma of the coffee gravitated me from the Siberian Plateau back to the Italian Frazetta's. I blinked my eye and batted my eyelashes, shaking my head lightly. I observed the color of my skin. It's lighter and paler. My fingernails are somehow elongated. As Kimberly Goldman , I didn't let my nails grew this long. Kimberly was a bit tomboyish and long nails reminded her on her failure to join the cheerleaders squad. This mask was definitely strange. I didn't only give me access to Samantha Hoist's personality, gesture and memory, In addition, my body were becoming hers, too. That higher dose Padma sent me had trigged mild hormonal change in my body. An inexperienced agent would become invalid if he couldn't contain the batches of the host's memory, let alone a physical modification. All the trainings I did had finally paid off. "Excuse me," a perky voice suddenly called me out of nowhere. A petite girl around Kimberly's age was standing near me. She wore a cute babydoll orange top and a pair of black jeans. Her hair was straight and cascaded down to her back. Her face was fresh and sweet. She flashed me an innocent adolescent smile. "Hi," I smiled back at her. My mind instinctively searched my Samantha's database for her profile. I didn't find anything. "Are you waiting for someone?" She said while moving her head body lightly in awkward manner, like most teenagers in her age do when they initiate a conversation with older strangers. "Yup, I am waiting for friend," I raised my eyebrows. "Are you waiting for... Igor Valentine?" she said, her voice tone changed as she uttered the name, becoming somehow too matured for her age. I instantly detected a slight eastern European accent when she mentioned the name. Oh my god. This is impossible, I thought. Is this girl Igor Valentine? In a disguise? But how? "May I join you?" She grinned and she once again sounded like a teenager. She took a chair and sat down, facing me directly. "Call me Iris, by the way. Iris Valentine." Igor Valentine was indeed in front of me. The man wanted by the Interpol was disguised flawlessly as a girl. Being a disguise-specialist, this development didn't impress me much. It only made me curious. However, I was Samantha right now. So I had to act surprised. I accessed her thoughts, trying to come out with proper genuine reaction and I let out a gasp and covered my mouth. "Igor? Is that you?" 'Iris Valentine' winked at me. The waiter came to us and asked for orders. "One glass of beer, please!" 'Iris/Igor' ordered. Her valley girl accent was dead on. Her/his face was guiltless with childlike smile. The waiter was taken aback by the fact that a girl so sweet- looking and underaged was ordering beer. "I need to see some I.D, then." "I'm just kidding," 'Iris' grimaced. "I'd like a coke, please." I skipped the order, stating that one cup of coffee was okay for now. We didn't say anything as we waited for the waiter to return with our order. When the waiter's gone, Iris/Igor put his orange cellphone on the table . I noticed the color-choice was intentional to matched her/his dress color. Then she/he pressed a button. "Sorry, but I need to jam any signal around us. I don't wanna risk being caught crossdressing. It's bad for my image as a wanted terrorist," he winked again. From a distance, we appeared like two sisters chatting and gossiping , catching stories and updating rumors with each other. Nobody had any idea, that this was actually a stake-out operation carried out by a disguise-specialist against a masqueraded fugitive. "Igor, darling.. you look different. Have you lost weight?" I joked. Igor laughed. His laughter was more raspy than perky. For a moment, he was out of character. "But Igor, how?" I asked him, maintaining my concerned tone. "Let's put it this way, I know someone who knows someone in Hollywood. He made me into this cute 'Iris'. I spent months training as her before I was able to come out and walk under the sunlight." He pinch his girl face and tugged his left cheek. I instantly knew that the mask was ordinary latex, crafted by a trained expert to make it realistic. I scratched my short brunette hair. Like the real Samantha would do when she was in complete disorientation. Deep inside my disguise, I really sensed she was freaked out. I thought I could capitalize her inner feeling by letting it showed in my appearance. "Relax, Sam. I dropped by just to give you some updates. I'd like to inform you that I am alright, as you can see yourself. Our underground cell is active again. Once we have the funding, we can start our operation once again. We have recruited hackers and bankers to support us. Meanwhile you should maintain your daily cover and keep a low profile." I quickly access my mind and found out that he was talking about 'The Summit' a clandestine secret society, created by several ex- intelligence. "I thought 'The Summit' was not real. It's just a post-cold war dream." "I thought so too, liebchen Samantha," he replied. "But there were meetings and conferences in the past two years discussing the resurgence of a secret global intelligence. There's a grand design and I was assigned to take care one of their experiments. I wanted you to join me." I realized that this was what the mission all about: to retrieve the information about The Summit's revival. "What experiment, Igor?" The girl in front of me smiled wittingly. I swear I could glimpse an flash of Igor brutal and primal rage in that cute face. "You're looking at it right now," he smirked. "Yeah, you look like a girl. Nice disguise. And then?" I acted curious to him. "To make it short, we're going to infiltrate the U.S society, using advanced disguise technology." "What do you mean by that?" "There was an old rumor among intelligence community, that there is a special task force of impersonators who have influenced and shaped society by disguising as influential people. Let it politicians, generals or celebrities." Is he talking about us? My thought was racing with questions. "These people," Igor continued, "are not spies, because they are not assigned to steal information or creating sabotages. Their duties are to create subtle change and manage the society elusively, so it can evolve the way it is evolving right now." "Do these people really exist?" (Yes, they sure do. I thought. I am one of them) "We don't know. Like I told you, it's just rumor. Old wives's tale." I gulped. Did he just lie to me? Have they known about the agency? Should I kill this guy now? "The point is, we were inspired by that story. The summit is now preparing to deploy people in public and private schools as well as universities. Posing as ordinary citizen like Iris here. We still need more money to manage the operation. But it's almost done. And we're ready." "Why do you tell me this?" I asked him. "I just want to inform you, darling. Letting you know that I am in the country. I know you're still under the surveillance. Who knows that agents are watching us right now." "Yeah, you really risk this, Igor." "You'd never know until you tried," he shrugged. Then he gulped his coke and pressed the button in his cell phone, turning off the jamming signal. Almost on cue, 'Iris' emerged. His cute perky expression radiated from her fresh face. "I gotta fly now. Softball practice," 'Iris' stood up and extended both her arms to me. "Would you mind if we share hugs?" "Off course not," I let out a dry smile, giving the person underneath 'Iris' the impression that 'Samantha' still felt awkward by this strange meeting. We moved closer and embraced each other. For a short distance, the mask looked faked. The texture was improved by make-up and powder. But, it's no rival to my agency's disguise prop. When our boobs meshed together I noticed that 'Iris' breast were a bit mushy and soggy. Suffice to say that the DMSLs were still ahead of the game. "Will I see you again?" I asked 'Iris'. "Probably not in this body," Igor whispered, using his own voice. We let go each other and 'she' left. Not forgetting to wave goodbye to me and saying that she'll call me soon. I sat back in my chair, thinking about what Igor had told me. 'The Summit' had made their initial move, using us as their inspiration. This is important info. How does our agency react to this development? Does it mean that we have to adopt offensive strategy? On top of all, what should I do now? Do I need to get back to the toilet and changed myself back to Kimberly Goldman? Then I realized that Igor might have left a bug in my body as we embraced. Without attracting any attention, I started to rub all of my body and looking for any suspicious device. "It's okay, Grasshopper. You're clean. There's no bug on you. The target is already out of the perimeter," I heard Ronny Cho's voice, whispering in my ear. I instinctively put my fingers at the handle of my glasses. "Your task is finished. Please return to the toilet and changed back. Meet at the lobby in your character." I nodded, stood up, paid my bill and left the restaurant immediately. I soon came back to the toilet, slipped inside the booth and retrieved my Kimberly disguise stored in the hidden compartment. I discarded the white cat-eye glasses, the blazer, the green frill blouse, jeans and put all other Samantha's attire and accessories in the compartment. I slid inside the white halter top and blue skirt. The bracelets followed suit. In one minute I already fully dressed as Kimberly once again. "This is not my clothes," I mumbled, letting out Samantha's thought spewed out from her stolen lips. As Samantha, I knew looked like an adult trying to pass as a teenager in these clothes. I hesitated a bit and my mind wandered inside my brain, to the place where all memories of Samantha Hoist's was stored. I could sense her life, her past, her fears and joys running around in my head. This mask had allowed me to borrow her life. I could be her indefinitely since I knew everything about her. I knew everything from her favorite chick- flick, her favorite books and her sexual kinks. I knew that she lost her virginity in high school with a guy named Kurt, I knew that she had a brief lesbian experience during the end of her senior years. What happened if I shed this mask? Would I lose everything I knew about Samantha? The mask. Yes, I need to unmask. I reached the invisible seam on my neck and opened it gently. Once I've got the hang of it, I tugged it but the mask was very hard to cast aside. I pulled hard and after some seconds, I heard the distinct Velcro rip. In one movement, I snatched the mask out. I felt a sudden burst on my temples. And for one second, I had a black out again. It lasted for a nano second. Without any trance or weird experience. Only a slight vertigo. The face of Samantha Hoist now lied in my hand. I noticed that the fingernails were now back to my Kimberly's nails. My skin also returned to its original shade. I let out deep sigh. My finger ran through my face, my original male face. I could feel my facial skin was messy and botched-up. I 'm gonna take care of it later. Now, back as Kimberly Goldman. I picked up her mask. On my palm, her empty face reminded of 'Iris Valentine'. She was the same age as Kimberly. What if.... An idea crossed my mind. If I could find her, I could get closer to her as Kimberly and befriend her, watching her from close distance. Maybe sharing the same class or joining the same swimming club or whatever. But I needed to discuss with this with my handler. They're the one who have more experience. Which means I need to meet my mom and dad. It's already evening, anyway. I slid my head into Kimberly's mask. It felt so homy inside. Like a comfortable cocoon. As I my head went all the way into the mask, I became her instantly. "What a day," I muttered as Kimberly, using her voice. I collected all of my Kimberly stuff and walked out the toilet booth. As I emerged out, Kimberly's reflection appeared on the mirror in front of the booths. I still looked fresh, bubbly and perky. My breast jiggled lightly as I approached the mirror and examining my makeup. After spending a minute of two, I decided to leave the mall, walking straight to the lobby. As for the Samantha Hoist disguise kit, somebody will take care of it. The agency sometimes employs people to clean things up. Usually these people didn't even know about the nature of the item they handled. At the lobby, I saw my mom, "Ronny Cho aka Miranda Goldman" standing near the fountain, under the big clock which was one of the ornament of the mall. She looked tired of waiting, even though she tried to maintain her cool, sexy composure. She folded her arms on her chest as she saw me heading to her, shaking her head and sighing. "It's about time," she said as I approached here. "Where have you been, Missy? Were you lost?" "Sorry, mom. It's just like I can't decide what to buy for Dan's birthday." "Just do it later, hon. We need to go home now. We have to attend a party tonight. Dad's waiting for us." She stretched her delicate hand and reached mine, clutching it and led me toward the parking lot. "Mom, don't drag me like this, I am not a baby, you know," I whined. "You'll always be a baby to me, Kimberly, " she replied softly. Inside the mask, I was blushing. I was very subtle but I knew that was Ron's way in expressing his concern over me and my first mission. Once we got in the car, 'mom' turned off the engine and we were off to the Goldman's residence. As we drove by several minutes, I started to perspire heavily. "It's the side effect," Ron's voice came out of Miranda's lips. "Once we got home, I'll give you proper medication." "Thanks," I said. "Padma said hi. She's already left the country. You did an excellent job." "She's a weird girl, indeed." "Just like every tech people." "What are we going to do with Igor and The Summit?" Ron shrugged. "I guess we have to discuss it with Mendez later. Igor might have something to do with the party tonight at the Appleby house." "They know about us." "I doubt that," Ron shook his borrowed head. Her hair waved gently. "Even our own agents don't know much about the agency." "That's true," I replied. It was a bit depressing that I didn't have any complete information about my own organization, especially after knowing that there was other organization who wanted to use our concept of espionage. "You're not the only one, Grasshopper," Ron said. I was too tired to answer. Author's note: As usual, this episode was written in one shot, almost without editing. I used the same method, which is letting the characters drive the story in the directions they wish to go. I apologize for the inconvenience. The main driver for this episode is actually my intention to write more than 5000 words. That's why I felt the story is getting too complicated. This is a threat for me as a newbie. Hence, I beg for advises, references, critics and comments from the readers on how to plot the story better. As always, I didn't know where to go next. I haven't thought anything for the 6th part. I don't know how long can I stay writing with lack of discipline like this. I might create another spin-off based on this universe, emphasizing on Igor's plan to infiltrate into schools or universities. I already had a sketch of a protagonist somewhere in the back of my mind. It would probably written in third person POV, as I'd like to broaden my writing skill. But this is still a plan without any fixed writing schedule.