OTHER REPLACEMENT SCENARIOS

[jaegerhunde01]

Agent X9 needed a new persona.
The assignment demanded subtlety, poise — and a story no one would question.
A very senior politician had died, and the city’s elite would gather to pay their respects. The funeral promised to be an event of quiet power — the air thick with grief, politics, and whispered deals. Every entrance would be watched, every guest vetted, every camera scanning for faces that didn’t belong.
But not at the hotel.
The hotel was neutral ground — a sanctuary for the powerful who preferred to mourn in private, and where scrutiny loosened after the third glass of champagne.
That was where X9 would slip in.
And what better disguise than the niece the family hadn’t seen in years — the one who’d left the country young, whose absence had become part of family lore. A few forged records, a perfect accent, and a handful of old photographs would seal the illusion.
The mission wasn’t just to attend the funeral.
It was to uncover the secrets that had been buried with the man in the coffin.

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The Baron de Cavalia had passed from this world — finally and without fanfare. His name would linger in the headlines, his fortune in the hands of lawyers, and his legacy in the whispers of those who’d once feared him.
He would not be missed by the Baroness.
In her lavish suite, morning light brushed across silk drapes and the faint scent of perfume hung like a ghost. On the bed, the Baroness had arranged her mourning attire — an ensemble fit for the most exclusive funeral of the season: black silk, polished pearls, and a veil delicate as smoke.
But fate — or perhaps the maid — had made other arrangements.
Now it was the Baroness herself lying across the embroidered coverlet, still and immaculate, her finery untouched. The faintest tremor of breath betrayed her uneasy slumber, her limbs neatly secured beneath folds of linen.
“The Baroness can rest,” the maid murmured, smoothing the lace at her mistress’s sleeve. “It’s been a tiring week.”
The Baron had been good to her — a rare kindness in a house built on cruelty and etiquette. And now, as the church bells tolled for him, she felt compelled to pay her respects. To send him off with someone who had truly cared.
Moments later, the mirror reflected not a servant, but a lady of station. The maid — transformed — stood poised in the Baroness’s gown, black stockings glimmering faintly beneath the hem, the veil casting a shadow over her borrowed face.
No one would suspect. No one ever looked too closely at grief.
By the time the mourners dispersed and the final carriage rolled away, “the Baroness” would have vanished — her disguise discarded, her wages at last collected in silk, lace, and freedom.

[jaegerhunde01]

The CEO had finally kicked the bucket — right there on the eighteenth hole of his private golf course, a heart attack mid-swing under a sky too blue to care.
His death sent tremors through the boardrooms of half the world. Chip technology secrets — worth billions — were suddenly adrift, up for grabs, and every agency wanted a piece.
That was where Agent X10 came in.
The funeral was today. A gathering of the powerful, the polished, and the dangerous — all dressed in black, all pretending to mourn while calculating their next move.
No one knew Amanda Fox — the new PR girl from the Paris office, fresh-faced, impeccable, and recently added to the guest list. She’d been in her hotel suite, humming softly as she laid out a chic ensemble: tailored black dress, sheer stockings, glossy heels, the perfume of privilege hanging in the air.
Then came the knock.
The maid entered quietly — polite smile, lowered eyes, cart rolling softly over the carpet. But behind that uniform, beneath that calm exterior, was X10 — patient, precise, and deadly efficient.
Minutes later, the suite was silent again. The maid was gone.
Amanda Fox — or someone wearing her perfume, her clothes, her elegant heels — would be arriving at the funeral on schedule. Her veil would conceal a face no one had seen before, her accent a mystery.
Agent X10 walked down the corridor without looking back, the click of heels blending with the hum of hotel life.
Amanda, after all, was taking the day off.

[jaegerhunde01]

[artdodge]

Good series!

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Missing the Corporate Party