Agent 17 Red Rose Hot- Official

“You’re too late,” he gasped, tears mixing with sweat. “It’s already in a dead-drop. My contact picks it up in twenty minutes.”

She released his wrist, and he slumped forward, sobbing with relief. As she turned to leave, he lunged for a hidden derringer taped under the console. Agent 17 Red Rose HOT-

She smiled. It was a cold, beautiful thing. “Then you’d better give me the location, or I’ll make those twenty minutes feel like a lifetime.” “You’re too late,” he gasped, tears mixing with sweat

Amateurs , she thought.

She found him in the control room, a rotund man in an ill-fitting suit, sweating through his shirt. Two guards. One by the door, vaping. Another by the window, scanning the yard with a rifle that cost more than his monthly salary. As she turned to leave, he lunged for

She slid the garrote between her teeth, drew a silenced pistol, and fired twice. Phut. Phut. The guards dropped in synchronized silence, one clutching a leaky e-cig, the other never knowing what hit him.

The safehouse smelled of stale coffee and ozone. Agent 17, known in seventeen classified files as “Red Rose,” pressed a fresh clip into her sidearm with a soft, decisive click. Her codename wasn’t poetic; it was a warning. A red rose meant beauty with thorns. The “HOT” appended to her file stood for High-Value Objective Termination.