Tara looked through the glass sides of the elevator, out onto the city below. It looked almost identical to the city she had left; the freeway still traced the eastern edge of the bay, cars still jamming at the same pressure points. The people still milled about like ants below her, blissfully unaware that the six-hundred-foot dildo in the city center used to be a pointed structure called the Space Needle.

The elevator stopped halfway up the climb. A pale woman with buzzed black hair entered, flanked by two generic agents. The woman nodded at Tara. “Captain.”

“Ramona.”

“Got a call from up top.” The elevator resumed its ascent. “Traces of abnormalities over on Bobcat Mountain. You coming with?”

“No,” Tara said. She studied the reflections of the other passengers in the glass. Each, she noted, carried a mesmerizer at their waist. “I’ve got another job I’m working on. Let me know what you find.”

“We’ll miss ya,” Ramona grinned.

The elevator stopped again. Four men, each in a black suit and carrying a black briefcase, stepped on. “Pardon us,” one said, as they spread to each corner.

“Sorry about that Edel gal,” Ramona said. “A real mess that turned out to be.”

“Thank you,” Tara said, watching the agent’s face in the glass. “Hardest part of the job.”

When the elevator stopped a third time, she turned to observe the additional trio of generic agents that stepped inside, eyes tracing from face to face as they each made eye contact.

The elevator resumed. The eleven of them stood still for a moment, the whirring of machinery the only sound to be heard.

“Before we begin,” Tara said quietly, “does anyone want to get off?”

In a flash, Ramona whipped out a pink vibrator and dove towards Tara’s crotch, just as two generic agents grappled her arms. Flexing, Tara spun in place, using the mook on her right arm to knock Ramona to the ground; at the same time, she threw the mook on her left at the pair of suited men scrambling to detach the magnetic cuff handles of their briefcases.

However, the remaining trio of mooks took this opportunity to tackle Tara’s torso, pinning her to the ground. The other two suited men quickly latched the magnetic cuffs around her wrists while the two mooks still on her arms pushed down with all their weight, snapping her upper limbs to the magnetized floor.

Ramona, vibrator in hand, lunged again towards Tara’s crotch, but her head was met with the vicegrip force of Tara’s watermelon-crushing thighs. “Her legs!” she growled. “Get her legs, you idiots!”

Mooks scrambled to grapple her legs, undeterred by the flurry of bicycle kicks she let loose. She felt another pair of magnetic cuffs latch around her ankles, and in mere moments, she was pinned to the floor. She strained her muscles, pushing and pulling and wiggling, but to no avail: she was well and truly stuck.

Ramona stood over her, twirling the vibrator like a nunchaku. “Sorry, Cap. Orders from the top.” The five generic agents, battered and bruised, raised the black and white spirals of their mesmerizers.

Tara gulped.

“Praise be to Her,” ten voices said together.