The sign at the front of the complex was big and obvious: “C.O.M.E.T. Laboratories” in a 60s-style futuristic typeface, with “Controlled Operation Managing Experimental Technology” in smaller plain block letters below the acronym.

Smaller and less obvious, but unmistakable if you knew what to look for, were the cameras and sensors built into the signpost. They were part of the first line of defense against intruders trying to come in the front door.

Spidershade had no intention of trying to come in the front door. The back way had its own defenses, of course, but at least it was out of sight of the main guard post.

She made her way around the perimeter. The outer barrier was a standard chain-link fence, effective at keeping out casual trespassers without calling attention to itself. It barely slowed her down as she vaulted over it with a leap and a flip.

There were no visible guards or dogs in the area. Spidershade remembered a news interview with the lab’s director last month where he had groused about the latest round of budget cuts. According to her research, they had greatly reduced the foot patrols and were relying more heavily on sensor equipment.

Sure enough, her infrared goggles showed a grid of laser lines criss-crossing the grounds, thick enough to catch anyone who tried to blindly walk across but easily evaded if you knew where they were. She made her way across the open field, careful to step between the beams.

Once she reached the main building, she froze in place, watching for any sign that she’d been detected. She then began her climb up the side of the building. The third-floor window fifth from the north end of the east wall was the closest entry point to her target.

After bracing herself into place, she got to work on the window lock. It was easy enough to pick. Bypassing the alarm took a bit more finesse, as she lifted the window just far enough to insert a tool and disconnect the sensor wire from the windowsill mount. The whole process took her about a minute. That was longer than usual to get past such a basic security system, but she was taking extra care to leave avoid leaving traces of her intrusion.

Spidershade climbed in and closed the window behind her. So far, so good. Shifting her goggles to night-vision mode, she silently made her way to the conference room door. Beyond it was a corridor leading to the fabrication lab she was headed for.

After checking the corridor with a little mirror on a stick, she moved out, taping the door to keep it from locking behind her. Her nerves were on edge. She was getting close to the sensitive areas of the facility, surely there would be at least one guard making the rounds. Slowly, carefully, she made her way toward the lab.

Footsteps approached.

The nearest shelter was the ladies’ room. She hurried inside and ducked into the stall furthest from the door.

The restroom door opened again. She placed her little mirror at the top of the stall barrier, giving her a discreet view of the room, and sat on the toilet with her legs lifted out of sight.

A short muscular brunette in a rent-a-cop uniform walked up to the sink. Her nametag read “M. LEIGH”. The ninja did a momentary double-take at the non-reversed lettering, but then remembered that she was seeing it by way of two mirrors, the one on the wall and the one she was holding.

“Ooooo... damndamndamn,” the guard muttered as she undid her shirt buttons. She pulled her shirttail out of her pants and reached behind herself to undo her bra. Spidershade watched appreciatively as her bare breasts came into view.

“Aaaahhhhh...” the guard sighed as she scratched herself where her bra strap had apparently been irritating her skin. Finally, she began to put her bra back on... and then muttered “Screw it! If Johnny or Bill get a cheap thrill, so be it,” as she put her shirt back on and then stuffed the bra into a pants pocket.

Spidershade had certainly enjoyed the cheap thrill. She remained still for a minute after the guard left, thinking. Apparently there were only three guards in the building; she’d expected four. Maybe one of them had called in sick at the last minute. It made the job a bit easier. Rent-a-cops weren’t any real danger; she could easily take down three, or four, or a dozen. However, this was a stealth job — if she had to fight, she’d already failed.

After confirming that the way was clear, she continued until she reached her objective. The lock and alarm on the lab door were more challenging than the ones on the window, but not enough to defeat her skills. Spidershade slipped into the room, again taping the lock and closing the door behind her.

Various LEDs provided enough light for her night-vision goggles to give an adequate view of the room. Spidershade approached the nearest computer and inserted one of the three thumb drives Doctor Dynoforce had given her. She tensed, ready to run if an alarm sounded.

The blinking red lights on the drive and the computer’s hard-disk activity indicator confirmed that the device was doing whatever it was supposed to be doing. She repeated the process for the other two workstations. So far, so good.

That was only part of the job, however. In an alcove at the far end of the room was her other target: Sentinelle’s bodysuit. C.O.M.E.T. Labs had an understanding with the heroine, allowing them to study the outfit when she wasn’t using it. There had been occasional speculation that the woman inside the suit was one of the scientists who worked here or one of the directors who ran the facility, but it never rose above the level of guesswork and rumor.

Spidershade examined the mannequin dressed in the heroine’s blue-trimmed silver outfit. She found an alarm, which she easily disabled. Next, she felt around the neckline until she found the seam where the hood joined the rest of the suit. The material flexed like soft rubber as she pulled it off the dummy’s head. It was hard to believe that the thin soft garment protected the wearer like a layer of armor plate, but she’d personally seen the heroine shrug off bullets like so many spitballs.

If not for the fact that the supersuit’s powers would work only for its rightful owner, she’d be sorely tempted to steal it herself. She smirked as she remembered a news report last month about a two-bit wannabe who’d gotten the idea that the heroine was just spreading that story to discourage would-be thieves. He’d gotten in by disguising himself as a janitor, triggered an evacuation alarm, put on the suit, and gotten hauled off to the prison infirmary after an ill-fated attempt to fly out the window.

Getting her mind back to business, she turned the hood inside-out and found the flaps that covered the commlink units. Inside were a fairly conventional circuit assemblies. They looked oddly out of place alongside the suit’s unique technology. Ignoring that, she carefully examined the devices. They matched her mission notes perfectly.

One by one, she extracted three microchips from each side and installed the substitutes she’d been given. According to Doctor Dynoforce, they were tracking devices, piggybacking on the commlink to secretly inform him of the heroine’s whereabouts. The details weren’t her concern.

She put the hood back onto the mannequin’s head. The material shimmered as it readjusted itself into a snug fit without a visible seam. Apparently, that particular ability wasn’t keyed to a specific wearer. She reset the alarm, and examined the alcove to confirm that she had left no trace of her intrusion.

Next she endured a nerve-wracking wait that felt like an hour but was actually about five minutes. Finally, the thumb drive lights switched from red to green, indicating that they had finished their work and could be removed. She gathered them up and listened at the door. There was no sign of activity.

Spidershade retraced her path, peeling the tape off each of the door locks on her way. The most difficult part came after climbing back out the window. After a few false starts, she got the sensor wire threaded back into the windowsill mount, then pulled the window fully closed. Once that was done, she descended to the ground, made her way past the detection grid, and leaped back over the fence.

Feeling very pleased with herself, she mounted her motorcycle. As she rode, she pressed her crotch to the seat, letting the machine’s vibrations tease her just a bit without seriously distracting her attention. She imagined herself finding and seducing “M. Leigh”. It was just a daydream, of course; there was too much risk of calling unwanted attention to herself. Oh, well, she’s always have the lovely mental image of those nice firm tits.

She got back to her hideaway without incident and with no sign that she’d been followed. A quick text message reporting her success to the address her employer had given her, and the job was officially complete. All that remained was to hand off the thumb drives and pick up her payment, and that could wait until tomorrow.

Now, she could relax. She poured herself some brandy and rolled up her mask. After belting down a swig, she stripped off her outfit, not bothering to change into something else. Lounging naked on the couch, she let her mind wander as she sipped the rest of her drink. Her other hand slid between her thighs while her thoughts drifted to a fantasy of the buxom guard catching her, seizing her, and having her way with her.

Fortunately, she emptied the glass before dropping it as her body began to shudder.