Watch Your Tongue

"This organization has come on our radar before now. We were keeping most of that among the administrators, but with them invading our Institute in such a fashion... there's no reason to not let you know who it is you'll be facing.

"Some henchmen and agents of WRNGHNDS apparently have gone through ceremonial surgery to switch their hands onto the opposite arms. The thumbs normally point forward when down to one's side. This agent's thumbs point backwards."

A slide appeared on the projected screen, with the recently captured agent against a height chart behind him, holding the letter board containing his identifying information. The processing officer had put a vulgar two-word phrase in the place of his name, as that was evidently what he said when he was asked what his name was. A second picture beside it showed him holding his hands in front of his chest in an X-pattern. His thumbs faced down, as if his hands had been surgically switched. Even in the world of amazing spy-level plastic surgery, the lack of any visible scars or any other indication of the switch was startling.

"What's the reason for this mutilation?" Came a thoughtful and gently posh British voice emerging from an impeccably dressed woman in her forties in the front row.

"A demonstration of loyalty, perhaps? A way to show that they control their entire lives, a means of keeping them from returning to the civilian world easily. Or perhaps to bring them onto our radar, to shock and chill us at the depths to which they will go."

Somewhere in the audience, Bec scoffed loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You'd think it'd be easier to just switch the thumbs to the other side of the hand." Said someone else in the front, not nearly as British as the previous speaker.

"Yes, but then your pinkie would have to the work of your pointer finger." Michaels looked down at his own hand thoughtfully. "I find the entire procedure strange, but perhaps that is the intention. They wish to appear grotesque to inspire fear. Of course... we won't be so easily intimidated."

"Be vigilant in the field, everyone." Michaels said, looking up from his card. "A resourceful and likely powerful enemy has formed in our shadow. We'll brief you all on a need-to-know basis as we gather intelligence. Any questions?"

Alba raised her hand.

Michaels didn't recognize the blonde woman with her hand raised, and she was sitting at a seat without a name plate. (The seats weren't assigned. Do other workers bring in their name plates from their desks into the meetings? Do they carry them around in their purse?) "Yes, Miss..."

"Rousseau, Mr. Michaels." She answered. "I'm from Props."

"Hello, Miss Rousseau. What's your question?" He asked. Geena finally realized why his voice was bothering her: he sounded like George Lucas!

"Wouldn't it be WRNOGHNDAS?" Alba spelled out each letter.

He turned back to the projection screen, tapping away at his handheld controller, scrolling backwards until that slide came back up. "I suppose it would be. But I don't think they say out the O and A in 'of' and 'and.' That's fairly typical acronym branding."

"Yeah, but... the O and A are letters in the words 'wrong hands.' Maybe they could have made it work so the whole word was there."

"I thought it was Wring Hands when it first came up." Geena said.

"I wasn't paying attention." Bec was looking at her nails.

"Using the word 'nonfeasance' for the N is..." Hamilton took a deep breath, and continued at the same sleepy, soft pace. "that's kind of a stretch, isn't it?"

"I agree. Anything else?"

Alba held up her hand again.

Michaels sighed. "Yes, Miss Rousseau?"

She held up the little baggie containing the poison tooth. "What should I do with this?"

He adjusted his glasses to see what she was holding better. "Is that from the suspect?"

"Yes, sir."

Michaels cleared his throat. "Please take that to one of our chemical engineers in Props. We might be able to learn something about their techniques from it."

"Perhaps, sir." She said. "But a smart woman once told me that there's nothing new to discover in poisons since Socrates."

Alba didn't turn around, knowing that Taylor was probably watching her from higher up. If Taylor asked her later, she'd insist that she meant it.

There weren't any other questions, so this emergency meeting was dismissed.

---

The trio of women strolled through the halls of the Institute, in no hurry to get back to whatever duties they had.

"Now that the Institute has been infiltrated for the first time in decades..." Geena said. "We all need to keep our guard up."

"Yes, I must say..." Alba swooned on her feet. "I'm feeling quite unsafe in this new, uncertain world. I hope I can rely on you to protect me."

"You're on your own." Bec said. "It's not my fault you were reading books rather than pumping iron."

"Well, then I guess it'll fall on me to protect her." Geena said. "I'll pull my weight, like in Morocco."

"Hey, you were the one who said you'd seduce that guard!" Bec said. "I just handled the other one by putting the pin of a grenade through his Prince Albert piercing. Make him think twice about his next body modification."

Thinking of body modification and the fake tooth that still sat uncomfortably in her pocket, "You ladies don't have one of those fake cyanide teeth, do you?"

"Well, not all the time!" Bec sneered. "They get put in and taken out if we have a mission."

"Yeah, what if someone makes her clench her teeth for unknown reasons?" Geena poked Bec in her bare flank. Bec started at the contact, and immediately shoved Geena back hard. The two grappled a bit, with Geena pushing off her foot and throwing them both into the wall. Alba backed away reflexively, holding her hands up... only to see Geena and Bec kissing up against the wall.

Alba watched the impromptu makeout for a moment or two. Like she'd theorized before, the two of them were the magnets, and she was just standing between them. No big deal. She wasn't cut out to be an agent, so she should not pretend that she really could keep up with them. Alba turned away and let them have their fun.

From behind, something grabbed Alba's hand before she got too far. Bec jumped out from Geena's grip and snatched Alba's hand.

"Where do you think YOU'RE going, Professor?" Bec said with a wicked smile before pulling her back in.

If the Spy Partnership Institute would survive this new threat... everyone would have to work together.

Once they could stop doing each other.