confidential: mission notes The CIA actually very rarely send agents undercover anymore because of the risk factors involved: with modern technology, complete background checks are easily accessible and readily available, especially to people with power (see: the type of people the CIA generally deal with). A complete background check versus and incomplete background check is hindering to an undercover agent because a complete background check, or CB, contains classified, confidential, and top-secret information. Namely, the spy's true name, prior training, aliases, and most importantly, occupation. If a Subject, Target, or Suspect were to receive a CB on an operative undercover, the whole mission would be compromised, and the agent would most likely end up dead.

Another risk factor is what the CIA calls the Margin of Error. Spies, after all, are humans. If they were trained during their formative years at a CIA-operated academy (see: Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, Blackthorne Institute for Troubled Young Men), their Margin of Error is smaller, because they've been conditioned to separate themselves from their emotions. However, that's not always the case. In the 60's, an agent went undercover and fell in love with his Target. It ended with the deaths of both the Operative and the Target, and a failed mission. Tragic, really. I learnt about it during CoveOps during sophomore year at Gallagher.

Margin of Errors don't always deal with emotional compromises, though. Agents, although tested for memorization before acceptance into the agency, can always forget those nuances in their cover that make up the difference between themselves and their persona. Those nuances also make up the difference between a successful mission and a deferred one.

The last major risk factor is Target Paranoia. Although the CIA is, by definition, a secretive agency, Subjects, Targets, and Suspects are all powerful people (see above) with friends in high places, which unfortunately nearly always consists of double agents, or moles in the CIA. About thirty percent of the time, the CIA is aware of the double agent's activities and encourages them in order to gain superiority over the their Subject, Target, or Suspect, but seventy percent of the time, they have no idea (they really need to fix that.) Even if they don't have an agent on the inside, Subjects, Targets, and Suspects nearly always have heightened senses of paranoia, and are generally on alert. They're untrustworthy, and truly going undercover normally takes investment, patience, and time - none of which the CIA has.

Since the late 80's, undercover missions have been getting less and less common, and are now often regarded as last-resort options, and when the CIA does send agents undercover, the agent-cover discrepancy is minimal. This means going undercover only happens one time, maximum, in an agent's career.

But I'm not complaining.

C. MORGAN, FIELD AGENT

confidential: mission summary The CEO of weapons and fuel mogul, Henry Walter Goode (Target), of Goode Industries (worth 9 billion as of 2011), has recently been seen dealing with the Circle, a powerful, foreign, gang with a history of violence and terror. An initial investigation of his activities lead to a deferred phase, in which an agent was captured and nearly killed at the hands of the Circle. No evidence could be traced back to Goode Industries, and Target is now suspicious of CIA involvement.

Field agents, however, have been following his son and heir to the corporation, Zachary Henry Goode (Subject), and have noted nothing of suspicion, thus making him an open gateway towards Goode Industries.

Operative is to utilize close position towards the Subject (secretary) to gain intel of Goode Industries.

Operative is to use any means necessary.

J. SOLOMON, MISSION DIRECTOR

8:31 am "Oh, good, you're here," a woman said, as Cammie looked up from the thread she had been picking from the hem of her skirt. The woman, who was wearing expensive-looking black pumps, appeared five or six years older than Cammie (who was twenty), was tall, thin, and had straight brunette hair, pulled back into a professional bun. "Cameron, I presume?"

"Yeah," Cammie replied, getting up from her seat in the luxurious, minimalist foyer of the modern business high-rise, located smack center of Manhattan. Compared to the woman, who introduced herself as Jessica Boden, Cammie was shorter, blonde, and wearing less expensive clothes, which would've made her feel inferior if she hadn't known she could probably kill Jessica in four seconds with the potted plant tucked into the corner of foyer.

"I'll be showing you around for a few minutes before the young Mr. Goode arrives," Jessica smiled, a little coldly. She handed Cammie a paper cup of coffee, and the blonde accepted it uncertainly. "You might want that."

"Thanks?" Cammie said. "I'm not really a coffee person."

"It's for Mr. Goode," Jessica explained, as she strode off towards the row of shiny elevators, where a few men and women in business suits were waiting. "If you want to keep this job, you'll have it ready for him every morning before he arrives. French roast vanilla latte. Two shots. Soy. Venti. There's a coffee shop about a block away, get it there."

"Oh," Cammie said, trying to keep up with Jessica as they reached the elevators. Jessica reached out a manicured finger and pressed a button, and Cammie wrote the information down in a small moleskin notebook - not that she needed to, her memory was perfect, but she felt like it was something a newbie secretary would do. Conversationally, she asked, "So, um, what do you do, besides train secretaries?"

"I'm Henry Goode's personal assistant," Jessica said, her voice dripping with pride. They stepped into the elevator, and she selected the floor. "He requested I make sure his son's secretarial transition was as smooth as possible. Mr. Goode really liked his old secretary, you know."

"What happened to her?" Cammie asked. "Why'd she leave?"

They reached their floor. Jessica strutted out. "She got a modeling contract. With Elite, downtown," she shrugged, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. She sashayed down the hall, where a few more businesspeople were wandering around. "Sad, really. She was a good temp."

Cammie's mouth dropped open out of genuine surprise as she hurried out after Jessica, whose brunette hair swung from side to side mechanically. "His last secretary was a model?"

"This is your desk," Jessica gestured, ignoring Cammie's question. The desk was wooden, dark, shiny, and bare, except for - "Computer, phone. Datebook and pens are in the drawers. I assume you know how to use all those?"

Cammie nodded, walking around the desk and placing herself in the black mesh computer chair, twiddling around with the armrests. Jessica waited for about three seconds, impatiently, before pointing to an door right across from her desk. There was a gold plaque stuck to it, reading Z. Goode - VP Finances. "This is Mr. Goode's office. Try not to disturb him too much."

"I'll try," Cammie deadpanned, but Jessica didn't seem to notice as she explained the semantics of being a secretary. For the most part, Cammie tuned her out and scanned the room, absorbing information: potential weapons (163), number of exits (9), number of suspicious people (1 - Jessica), the location of the vending machine (across the room from her desk, but from what she could tell, it only stocked organic granola bars and water. Disappointing.)

"Well, I must leave you, and attend to other matters," Jessica said, not sounding remorseful at all. "Put the coffee on the desk, say good morning when he comes in, and do everything I told you, and you shouldn't cause too much trouble."

She clacked off.

As soon as Cammie lost sight of the swinging brunette hair, she checked the time - 8:50 AM exactly. She had just enough time for some pre-investigation.

Unobtrusively, Cammie began to open the drawers of her desk; the main drawer, which was flat and wide, held two ball-point pens and a large leather-bound datebook, lined up neatly next to each other. She pulled the datebook out and flipped through it. It was filled in with very neat cursive, mostly with names and restaurants, but nothing interesting. She put it back, bored, and closed the drawer. The two drawers to her left were both empty, and the top drawer to her right was freshly stocked with office supplies.

The bottom right drawer was empty.

She sighed and closed the drawer, leaning back in her chair. She stared at the office door for a few seconds, before hopping out of her seat and trying the handle. It was unlocked, and it swung open quietly, but a glance to her watch told her it was 8:57, and according to Zachary Goode's profile, he was a punctual person. Typical of those (future) CEO types, but annoying, because she couldn't properly look through anything and put it back the way it was in less than three minutes. She closed the door and slipped back into her desk seat and twirled around a few times before powering up the computer; Jessica had told her her login information a few minutes earlier.

As Cammie's computer turned on, she heard footsteps traipsing down the hall. She glanced up, and in the reflection of the glass wall of a conference room next to the office door, immediately recognized the face that was scattered all around the her mission file - aristocratic jaw, dark styled hair, tall, dressed expensively.

Her boss had arrived.

Up close, Zachary Henry Goode looked similar to the blurry CCTV pictures the CIA had of him, but not really. The outline of his figure was the same; his posture, his gait, his facial profile, they were true to the file. But there were details the file had missed. Bags under eyes. Weariness in walking. Bored disposition. Nonetheless, he still looked like the confident, rich, heir to 9 billion dollars he really was.

Cammie stood up. "Good morning, Mr. Goode," she greeted, in her most friendly voice, holding out the coffee, as he passed.

"Good morning," he replied, barely looking at her, but taking the coffee. He had put a hand on his office door before he stopped and turned back around slightly. Cammie promptly sat down and placed her hands in her lap as he faced her. He had a look of mild surprise. "Where's Tina?"

"Who's Tina?" Cammie asked.

"My...other secretary," Goode said slowly.

"She got a modeling contract," Cammie told him, verbatim. "With Elite. Downtown."

Goode blinked. "Oh. When is she coming back?"

Cammie pursed her lips. "I don't think she is," she said, almost apologetically. "I'm your new secretary. My name is Cammie."

He regarded her for a few seconds, before nodding and entering his office, his door slamming behind him.

a/n: aaaand, thoughts?