Destiny Calls Chapter 2:- Of Fine Art and Real Estate

[Stormtrooper1990]

It has been 5 days since her infiltration of the country club and now Destiny is back in action. Athena has been hired by the New York Museum of Modern Art to run a security audit. Her mission is to test the museum's security for an upcoming exhibition on the works of Andy Warhol. Later, she'll learn that a local basketball court used by her nephew, Michael, has been purchased by an unscrupulous local business owner who intends to sell it to a real estate development…

Outside the New York Museum of Modern Art, 11 West 53rd Street, Midtown Manhattan, Monday 15th April 2026, 10:00am

“‘Power, power, all that power…”’ Destiny Harrelson sang under her breath as Kayne West echoed in her ears. She stood across from the MoMA reflecting on her latest gig for Athena. I need to access the security centre, first. See if security is paying attention and how many are on duty this morning. And second, spot obvious opportunities a thief might exploit; a priceless Warhol sitting unguarded in a loading bay. Or unconnected cameras watching a Roy Lichtenstein work…

She had memorised the internal layout from floorplans and knew the locations of the security cameras, but had no ticket to get inside. And she needed to access the staff only areas on entry.

Destiny smiled, such trivialities had never stopped her before. During her reconnaissance last night, she had spotted an alley in between the Museum and its tower that led to West 54th Street. It contained an employee only side entrance. That's my ticket in, hopefully I'll find a uniform waiting for me too.

“‘It will be a beautiful death, jumping out the window…”’ She sang before switching off her phone, pulling up her hood and crossing the street into the alley.

Alley Side Entrance, 10:06am

Entering the alley, Destiny heard a young woman's voice, a local accent, speaking out loud. She crouched low, silently creeping towards a dumpster and peered around the corner.

The voice's owner was a slim, tall, attractive young blonde, a MoMa tour guide by the cut of her uniform. She had smooth heart shaped features, tapered cheekbones and big blue doe shaped eyes, framed by long silky ash blonde hair tied into a practical, yet elegant ponytail with a red scrunchie.

The girl, no more than 24 years old, who was too busy talking on her phone and leaning against the service door, was just about Destiny's size; wearing a grey pantsuit with a MoMA nametag that read “Karen”, over a white blouse that was buttoned up to show a subtle bit of cleavage and a cute love heart necklace. On her feet were sensible black pumps.

Destiny smiled. Her uniform will do nicely, I just need to wait until she faces the other way, and I'll take her down. It's too bad I left my lucky coin back at the apartment...

Her opportunity came when Karen pushed off the door and turned with her back to Destiny.

“Do you know how boring it is, Emily, to herd people round this gallery just to stare at art? I'm so looking forward to starting my usherette job next week at Carnegie Hall. Theater is more my speed, and maybe I’ll meet some cuter guys…”

Destiny didn't give Karen's friend time to reply. She quickly closed the distance like a Cobra, coiling her left arm around the tour guide's slender neck and putting her right hand on the back of the blonde's neck.

“W-who? W-what the fuck…?” Karen choked, dropping her phone to the concrete in surprise.

“Shhh! It's alright Karen,” Destiny hissed into her ear, squeezing her windpipe and cutting off the blood supply to her brain “ You look like you use a break.” she said applying gentle pressure, pushing Karen's head forward.

Karen struggled weakly, arms instinctively shooting up to try and pull Destiny off her in vain. But Destiny was much stronger.

“Karen, sweetie. Don't fight it, it will only hurt you more.” She said softly, squeezing the girl's throat and pressing her head just a millimetre forwards.

Her squirming growing weaker and weaker, Karen let out a choked rattle of breath, unconscious dead weight slumping as her big blue eyes rolled into the back of her sockets and arms falling limply to dangle at her side.

“I’ve still got it…” Destiny mused, lowering the unconscious Karen to the ground and holding the choke for two more seconds to make sure she wasn't feigning.

“Hello? Hello? Karen, are you there?” Came the young voice from Karen's phone.

Kneeling, Destiny picked up the device seeing a young pretty brunette's face on the screen. She swiped left to hang up and switched it off.

“Karen, can't come to the phone right now. She's a little indisposed at the minute.” she quipped, tossing the smartphone into the dumpster behind her.

She looked down at the unconscious Karen. “So where were we, sweetie? Smiling, she stripped off her clothes, down to her blue underwear.

Destiny removed Karen's shoes first then unfastened the pantsuit jacket, pulling it from the blonde one arm at a time. Next came the blouse; she unbuttoned it slowly revealing a generous pair of B-cups enveloped by a solid white t-shirt demi bra, with a cute small bow in-between the cups.

“Nice tits Karen, completely wasted on a man.” Destiny said, unzipping the tour guides trousers, tugging them past Karen's hips and down her long sexy legs. “And you have matching panties too, nice…” She quipped admiring the solid white panties in-between Karen's thighs, also with a cute little bow on the hem line above the gusset. Lastly, she peeled off the blouse carefully from Karen's body.

“A suit makes the woman, right Karen?” She looked back to Karen's scantily clad body as she pulled on the blonde's uniform.

Once she had finished fastening the jacket, Destiny took out her cable ties and duct tape from her bag, binding Karen's wrists and ankles, before taping her mouth shut.

“Thanks for your help Karen,” She scooped up the underwear clad in her arms and carried her over to the dumpster. “Enjoy your nap, honey.” She said gently lowering the snoring girl inside.

After stashing her discarded clothing and rucksack with Karen, Destiny closed the lid leaving the blonde in darkness.

Placing her ties and tape into Karen's purse, she threw it over her shoulder and slipped through the side door into the MoMA.

The New York Museum of Modern Art, Staff Areas, 10:12am

The area inside was enormous but tasteful, with many museum staff and security going to and fro. Destiny knew that the Museum's security centre was on the opposite end of the floor, and across from that was a women's bathroom. To access that security centre I will need a security uniform and the best place to acquire it would be from a guard needing a leak. I'll head to that bathroom and hopefully I'll get lucky. She thought, glancing at the cameras.


As she made her way to the toilet, Destiny made note of the positions of the cameras and checked that the alarms were on. All the cameras are switched on and placed strategically, and the alarms are all working… She thought impressed as she reached the women's bathroom. No one's getting in here to steal anything, not unless they get creative… Destiny smiled as she entered the bathroom. Getting creative was something that she was extremely good at.

The Women's Bathroom, 10:25am


Destiny had spent the last five minutes waiting and washing her hands when her mark had walked in.

She exchanged smiles with a strikingly beautiful latina security guard who had tanned oval features, high cheekbones and big bright hazel eyes. Her jet black hair was cropped short in a pixie cut underneath her black baseball cap with SECURITY stitched in gold across the front. Destiny put her age at 26 or 27.

The rest of her uniform that hugged her slim, athletic form consisted of a white long sleeve MoMA security shirt with badge on the right breast, and nameplate with “M Reyes”, black clip on tie and photo ID clipped on the breast pocket below the badge. Black trousers with yellow piping, held up by a gunbelt with sidearm, pepper spray, taser, and sensible black shoes.

Destiny had a good long look at the woman's perfectly formed ass travel towards an empty cubicle, before finishing washing her hands. In the mirror's reflection, she noticed the guard lock the door and drop her trousers and panties. Beyond she heard the tinkle of water landing in the bowl.

After drying her hands, Destiny approached the cubicle and like a tiger she waited in ambush.

Waiting another five minutes, she heard the toilet flush, the guard pulling up her trousers and the latch snapping open.

Upon opening the door, the guard jumped at the sight of her. “Hey, what's the big idea? You scared the shit out of me.”

Destiny merely grinned. “How much did you really need to go?”

Guard Reyes flashed her a confused look. “I don't know what you're on but you need to back u-ugh!” She grunted as Destiny struck her with a punch aimed squarely at the nerve cluster to the left on her solar plexus.

The hit knocked the wind out of Reyes and paralysed her for a few seconds,which gave Destiny all the time she needed to follow through with a vagus nerve pinch.

Grabbing Reyes by her throat, Destiny pinched with her fingers and thumb the vagus nerve on either side. The security guard let out a low aroused purr as Destiny lowered her unconscious body onto the toilet bowl.

“Was that good for you as it was for me, babe?” she grinned, locking up the cubicle and putting Reyes’ cap on her head.

She quickly got to work, unclipping the woman's tie, followed by the gunbelt.

5 Minutes Later

“You know, Reyes? I thought about becoming a rent-a-cop after I mustered out.” Said Destiny to the unconscious, bound scantily clad latina, perched on the toilet bowl behind her, hands tucked into her lap. Karen's discarded tout guide uniform was folded neatly at her feet.

Reyes, with her wrists and ankles cable tied and mouth sealed with duct tape, was dressed only in a white cotton vest with lace trim and solid black thong. The nipples of her buoyant C-cup breasts peeking through the vests thin fabric.

Destiny smoothed out her stolen uniform, admiring the toned bared arms and legs of Reyes. “You must work out, I like a girl who takes care of herself.

Once she had clipped on the gun belt, she tapped the sleeping Reyes on her cheek. “The uniform's a good fit. See you around, honey.” Putting her cable ties and tape deep into the pockets of her stolen trousers, Destiny climbed out of the cubicle, landing on the other side with the agility of a feline and straightening the clip on tie.

After retrieving an out-of-order sign from the toilet cupboard, she stuck it on Reyes’ door before sweeping from the bathroom.

MoMA Security Control Centre, 10:45am

Wearing her stolen security uniform, Destiny entered the security security control centre to find it manned by two security guards, one heavy set male and the other a young ginger haired woman.

They both turned to give her a nod of greeting before returning to their monitors, leaving Destiny slightly bemused.

She frowned Huh? They didn't even look at my ID, just took it for granted that I was one of them. They've definitely spent too long staring at these screens. Well, let's see what we can see…

She took a seat by the staff area monitors and blended in by making herself look busy.

Well at least they have proper monitoring, but there's no one manning this chair. That tells me that they only have surveillance in the public only areas, and all the other zones; Restoration, staff only, have little or no supervision. That's practically daring the thieves to steal something.

“Hey, Jenny. Did you hear that one of Warhol's Marilyn Monroe prints has been taken down for restoration work?” The voice of the male guard, Thompson cut across Destiny's thoughts.

Jenny smiled, not taking her eyes off the monitors. “You mean to tell me that Marylin needs a face lift?” She chuckled.

Thompson nodded. “Yeah and that's not all. The Director is allowing students from the Manhattan Institute of Art to sit in and observe and even do some copy work.” Thompson stopped to rub the back of his neck, before continuing. “ The word from reception is that one of the students is already here, she's just waiting on a guard to babysit her.”

Jenny shook her head. “Seriously? Who wants that detail? Anyway, isn't it a bit ridiculous to do copy work on a print? I mean I'm not an artist but wouldn't taking a picture be quicker?”

Destiny massaged her chin and smiled.
Sounds like an opportunity any self respecting thief would take. With this uniform it will be easy to lure the girl into a cupboard, take her clothes and use her identity to get into the restoration wing.

Her course set, Destiny left Jenny and Thompson to their conversation about the New York Knicks’ chances for winning the NBA trophy this year, a subject matter close to her heart, and made her way out of the security centre, through the staff only areas and towards main reception.

The MoMA Lobby, 10:56am

It wasn't too difficult for Destiny to find the art student, she was a pretty Korean American standing near the reception desk, holding a big black square satchel in one hand and with the other holding a big rucksack over her shoulder. A blue visitor lanyard hanging around her neck, with the pass sitting in between small, cute breasts.

As she approached the girl, Destiny got a better look at her; she had smooth, pale heart shaped features, high cheekbones and slanted, hooded brown eyes. Framed by short chestnut coloured hair, braided into pigtails. Destiny put her age at 20 years old and very good looking.

The student was wearing tight, skinny belted blue jeans with a white tanktop and black converse laced trainers. Over which was a tan leather jacket that matched her belt, something that Destiny admired. She looks a little small for me, but the girl's got great taste in clothes, too bad she's going to lose them. I really like her jacket…

She flashed the student a warm smile, holding out her hand. “Excuse me, I'm Security Officer Destiny Reyes. I've been sent by the Director to escort you to the restoration wing.”

The girl breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God, I've been waiting here for over half-an-hour.” She took Destiny's hand, firmly shaking it. “Miranda Ji-yeon Kim, Manhattan Institute of Art. Pleased to meet you.”

“Do you want a hand with that bag, Miranda?” Destiny said, nodding to the students rucksack laden with pencils.

The girl's face lit up. “Would you? That would be great! Thank you!” She handed over the rucksack.

Looping the heavy bag over her shoulder, Destiny smiled at the unsuspecting girl. “Alright, follow me and we’ll be there before you know it.”

“Can't wait!” The student said, bouncing on her heels and falling in behind her.

MoMA Central Gallery, 11:05am

Destiny led the clueless Miranda through the main gallery and towards a small staff area with a corridor that ended with a broom cupboard.

“So Miranda, right? What do you think of Warhol's Marilyn's?” Asked Destiny, making the student relaxed, as she held open the staff door for the pretty student.

Miranda's eyes lit up.“They are like the most iconic examples of US modern art. A global feminist icon immortalised by the finest artist our nation has ever produced. So I just jumped at the chance to be in the same room as the Marilyns.”

Destiny smiled as they neared the broom cupboard. “Art really doesn't do it for me. I prefer sports. Are you a Knicks fan, Miranda?”

The student shook her head. “Basketball? Nah, sorry, I'm more of a baseball fan. I support the Mets.”

They reached the broom cupboard door, the student none the wiser. Destiny, with one hand on the doorknob, shrugged a single shoulder. “Well, two each to her own. By the way, we've arrived.” She opened the door outwards, beckoning Miranda inside. “After you, Ms Kim.”

The girl flashed her a smile as she unbeknownly walked into danger. “Thanks, Guard Reyes. You've been most kind, I'll be sure to put a good word to your -” She paused as she took in her surroundings, “- um, Ms Reyes? Why are we in a broom cupboard? Is this a joke?” Miranda said, turning her head slightly and exposing the back of her neck.

Destiny moved quickly, raising her right hand like a sword and swiftly bringing it down onto the girl's brainstem. Miranda let out a surprised, pained squeak swaying slightly on the spot, brown eyes rolling into the back of her skull. Before crashing down onto her belly in an undignified unconscious heap.

Broom Cupboard 11:12am

Destiny closed the door behind her “No joke, sweetie. But you needn’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

Setting the student's rucksack down by the door, Destiny knelt by Miranda's prone form. “Gen Z. Far too trusting for their own good.” She muttered, rolling the girl onto her side and removing the visitor's pass.

“You know that's a really nice jacket, Miranda…” Admiring Miranda's jacket, Destiny stripped out of her stolen security uniform, folding it neatly next to Miranda's body.

Turning her attention to the unconscious art student, Destiny first unlaced the girl's sneakers pulling them off, along with her white ankle socks. She then gently pulled the unconscious Miranda into a seated position, straddling her and sliding off the leather jacket, one arm at a time.

Laying the student onto her back, Destiny unfastened the belt and unbuttoned her jeans, working them off Miranda's hips and ass, pulling them down her long dancer's legs.

“Well, well, well. Looks like someone is a cat person, cute panties.” Destiny chuckled as she admired Miranda's pink hipster shots with black lining and pictures of cute cartoon cats prancing around. “I wonder if you've got a matching bra?”

She soon found out, after pulling the art student's tank top up over head revealed a matching pink patterned bra, enveloping Miranda's perfect B-cup breasts.

“Man, I've gotta get me a pair like that.” Destiny grinned as she pulled on the students clothes, finding the shoes one size too small and the tank top a little tight. But thankfully, both the jacket and the jeans fit well enough.

When she was finished, she cable tied Miranda's wrists, securing them in the student's lap, and ankles before sealing her pretty mouth with duct tape, giving the student a tap on her cheek. “Moral of the story, babe? Don't follow strangers into broom cupboards, even the pretty helpful ones.”

Taking her body underneath her shoulders, Destiny dragged the scantily clad Miranda deeper into the cupboard, concealing her body behind boxes of bleach.

Looping Miranda's rucksack over her shoulder, Destiny put her cable ties and duct tape inside before picking up the satchel case containing Miranda's prints and looping the visitor's pass over her head.

“Sorry, honey but you'll have to wait a little longer to see your idols.” Destiny quipped behind her shoulder, before leaving the broom cupboard and Miranda Ji-yeon Kim unconscious in the dark.

MoMA Restoration Wing, 11:21am


Now dressed in Miranda's clothes, Destiny approached the entrance to the Restoration Wing, exchanging a nod with the on duty security guard. “Destiny Harrelson, I'm a student from the Manhattan Institute of Art,” she showed her stolen visitors pass to the bored narrow faced guard, who stood outside the restoration wing, “and here by the Directors invitation to copy one of Warhol's Marilyns."

The man nodded. “Of course, ma'am. I'll let you through. They will be on the first table on your left.” He's stopped to open the doors. “If you need anything, I'll be right outside.” Destiny returned his smile, and thanked the man as she walked through.

She approached the desk where the Marilyns lay, in all their multicoloured glory. Destiny would be the first to admit that she knew next to nothing about art, but she couldn't help but be in awe.

After a few moments admiring Warhol's masterpieces, Destiny got to work.

She opened Miranda's satchel case, finding a copy of the Marilyns the student had done earlier, and with great care switched the real for the copy.

Destiny let out a sigh of relief as she closed the satchel on the real Marilyns. She waited around five minutes, before taking the satchel case off of the desk and turning to leave.

She knocked on the door twice, and the surprised guard opened the door.

“Ma'am? You're done already? I thought you would be at least an hour.”

Destiny flashed him a small smile. “All I had to do was to copy a print. It took me no time at all.”

The man thought for a moment then shrugged. “That actually makes a lot of sense,” he opened the door to let her pass, “well, enjoy the rest of the Museum and have a nice day.”

When she was out of earshot, Destiny keyed her ear piece. “Boss? Destiny here. The package has been delivered, I’ll meet you and the Director in the Starbucks off the lobby.”

Sweetwater's deep voice answered her. “Roger that Destiny, good work as always. See you in a few. Sweetwater out.”

Grinning, she traces her steps back to the lobby.

Starbucks, MoMA Lobby, 11:45am

“Absolute incompetence!” Cried Museum Director Timothy Arkwright, a short dark haired bespectacled British man in his mid forties, cried slamming his fist on the table. “My bloody staff should be ashamed of themselves!”

Sitting next to the Director, Preston Sweetwater folded his hands across the table. “With respect, Director Arkwright, Miss Harrelson is a professional with a very unique skillset. You can hardly blame your staff. They just need the extra training, sir.” He said with a barely disguised smile.

Arkwright sighed. “It's still no excuse for lack of vigilance, Mr Sweetwater.” he lent back into his seat, spinning his empty coffee mug. “It looks like I'm going to have to go to the Board of Directors and tell them to invest in those Athena staff training seminars we discussed. They are not going to like this, this Warhol exhibition has already cost us $5 million dollars.”

Across from them, Destiny set down her half full cappuccino. “Excuse me, Mr Director? I could give you some free pointers if you'd like? Measures you could implement now at no additional cost?”

That got the man's attention, he lent across the table shifting his square frames in interest. “Really? What do you have in mind, Ms Harrelson?” Next to him, Preston smiled in her direction.

She held up two fingers and lowered one. “Number one, I would train your security staff to look at all the security footage from every wing of the Museum. Keep track of all comings and goings" She paused, allowing Arkwright to take notes.

She lowered the second finger. “Then your security should double check all guests that are allowed near works of art.”

Arkwright lowered his fountain pen. “And just would they accomplish this, Miss Harrelson,”

Destiny lent back. “Ideally? Only if they are accompanied by at least one museum employee. I was able to neutralise the real art student, steal her clothes and identity because she was left unattended and vulnerable. Where I a real art thief, Mr Director…?” She left the sentence hanging for a second to emphasise her point.

Arkwright nervously shifted his bow-tie. “I see, it would have been the theft of the century. W-where is the unfortunate young lady now?”

“In a broom cupboard off the main gallery, naked and a little tied up. There's also one of your tour guides in a dumpster in the side alley and one of your security personnel in the women's staff toilets.” She said with a small smile.

“G-good God!” He stammered. “Will they need medical attention?”

Preston put a placating hand on his shoulder. “Athena has it covered, Director. An ambulance is on the way and all medical insurance will be paid for. However, your affected staff will need to sign non-disclosure agreements to avoid any…legal entanglements.”

The Director sighed. “Well I guess that's a small price to pay for peace of mind. At least the women will be fine in the long term.”

As Destiny got up to leave, Arkwright held up a hand. “Just before you go, Miss Harrelson? I assume you have the real prints?”

Destiny shared a smile with Preston, then opened the satchel on the table with a little theatre. “They’re right here, sir.” She said, presenting the Marilyns before handing the satchel over.

The Director's eyes lit up in wonder. “Thank you, Ms Harrelson. Such a thing of beauty, wouldn't you agree?”

Taking off her stolen visitors pass, she slid it across the table. “That they are. Have a good day, gentlemen.” She shared a wink with Preston before leaving the Starbucks, retracing her steps to the side alley to retrieve her clothes.

200 West 124th Street, Robert Harrelson's Residence, Harlem, 16:40pm

“Damn it, Michael! What's this I'm hearing about you tagging the side of Mostafa's cornershop?!” Robert Harrelson, slammed his palm on the dinner table. “The man always did right by you and your sister? Always sneaked you both candy bars.”

Michael Harrelson, seated across from his father, pushed away angrily. “Why are you always getting on my back, pops?” He was sixteen and a dead ringer for his father, except Michael had a smooth bald dome and the makings of a moustache.

“Don't you ‘pops’ me, boy! I'm your father!” He jabbed an angry finger at him. “This is the third time this week that I hear that you're up to no good.”

Across from Destiny at the opposite end of the table Keisha Harrelson, Robert’s wife and mother of his children chewed on her beef burrito, flashing her husband a disapproving glance. She was a beautiful african-american woman with soft hazel eyes and black curls. Destiny had a lot of time for her sister-in-law.

“Don't you coddle the boy, Keisha. I won't have our youngest become a delinquent. He needs to follow Mary's example and do something useful in his life.”

The mention of his older sister, the trainee nurse drew an exasperated groan from Michael. “You always use Mary against me. It's a good job she's not home yet to see this.”

Destiny saw her brother go a deeper shade of red and open his mouth to retort.

She calmly finished off her burrito and held up her hand. “Robbie? Will you let him speak?” She said, defusing the situation with a smile.

Robert looked at her, his expression softening. He nodded. “Alright, Desi. Let's hear what Michael has to say for himself.”

Destiny turned to her nephew. “Talk to me Mike? Why are you tagging walls instead of playing basketball? Do you remember that court on the corner of West 123rd Street and Douglass Boulevard? I used to take you there whenever I was on leave. You would be about eleven.”

Michael sighed. “Yeah, I remember Auntie D, those were good times.” He leant forward across the table. “Believe me, Auntie. Dad,” he glanced nervously at Robert “I would go back there and play B-ball if I could. But I can't, some rich white boy has put the court up for auction and chained it up.”

Destiny’s brow furrowed. “Up for auction? How can that be possible? I thought the court had been gifted by a benefactor?”

Keisha shrugged. “I saw the “for sale” signs up there myself on my way home from work. Looks like the ‘benefactor’ wants to make a quick buck off of Harlem.” She said with an edge of bitterness that didn't suit her.

Robert looked at his son, sympathy replacing his earlier anger. “Oh Mike. Will you forgive me for being a stubborn moron?” He extended his arm over the table, palm open.

Michael laughed, grabbing his fathers hand; the two squeezing them into fists. “Of course but you're always stubborn. I got that from you.”

Destiny smiled as her brother and nephew reconciled but remained serious, she caught Michael’s eye. “Mike. I promise I will look into this for you.”

He nodded as Keisha clapped her hands together. “Well we can't wait for Mary. Who's up for some rocky road?”

Corner of West 123rd Street and Frederick Douglass Blvd, Harlem, 17:02pm

With Keisha's rocky road digesting in her stomach, Destiny decided to check out the basketball for herself and get some answers.

Pulling up she noticed that the court was chained up like Michael had described and there was a large obnoxious red realtor sign cable tied to the chain linked gate, that read “sold” in big white letters. Destiny's heart sank. That didn't take long . She sighed.

She recognised the realtor company: Wright and Morley LLC, the intertwined “WM” logo was a dead giveaway. They were one of the largest realtors in Manhattan and were often heavily involved in buying repossessed property and selling them through auction.

Pulling back onto the boulevard, Destiny followed the signs heading towards her apartment in East Harlem.

As she drove through the early evening rush hour, Destiny's thoughts turned to the B-ball court. I do recall that the borough had to sell off some public properties due to budget cuts. But I don't remember the court being one of them. Something is off about this…

Shaking her head, Destiny made her way through Central Harlem.

Apartment 232, Waterstone Heights Apartment Block, East 118th Street, East Harlem, NYC 17:20pm

Destiny typed in Wright and Morley's website in her Google search stream, the light from her mac book air illuminating her face.

She immediately clicked on the address on the address of the realtor company's head office. A picture of a modern office block in the heart of Gramercy Park flashed on screen, along with the address; 20 East 23rd Street.

Destiny took up a steaming hot mug of coffee from her table and lent against her sofa, a plan taking shape in her mind. No way I'm letting that court go to some developer who's just going to build condos or a mall over it. Michael and the neighbourhood kids need that court to stay out of trouble.

She took a sip of her coffee. I'll need to find the man who brought the court and have a little talk. But first, I'll need to find his name and that will be in the Realty, so I'll need a suitable disguise. Let's go shopping…

She smiled, clicking on the nearest properties to her. “There. An apartment on East 67th Street, Lenox Hill.” She clicked again seeing the face of the pretty realtor handling the sale, Sally Kendall beaming up at her. She was an attractive thirty year old with porcelain diamond shaped youthful features, shallow cheekbones and big green eyes. Dark brown hair tied into a practical yet elegant bun.

Destiny grinned. “Perfect. I'll drop by for a house viewing with Sally, take her out and take her clothes. That will be my ticket into the Realty.”

Her plan set, Destiny closed her mac book and enjoyed the rest of her coffee. Tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.

East 67th Street, Lenox Hill, NYC, Tuesday 16th April 2026, 10:30am

Getting out of her silver Chevrolet, Destiny approached the slim attractive realtor Sally Kendall, who was standing outside the apartment. Destiny had to admit the woman was much prettier in person; her slim petite body clothed in a red pantsuit with the company logo embroidered on the left breast, opposite the nametag. Underneath which was a black silk blouse and matching high heels. Around her neck was a gold layered chain necklace with matching diamante ear studs. Destiny also noticed a gold wedding ring on the realtor's left index finger. Her company car, a red Toyota Corolla, was parked nearby.

“Good Morning! I'm Sally Kendall, Wright and Morley Realty.” the woman warmly grinned, extending her hand and adjusting her black handbag. “Are you here for the home tour?”

Destiny returned the smile and shook the realtor's hand firmly. “Yes, my name is Sherice White. I saw this apartment on your website and thought ‘Sherice, this will be perfect for you and the girlfriend.’ So when I saw it, I had to jump.” She lied, keeping her face straight.

Sally clapped her hands together. “Well, I'm sure she'll like it. What's her name?”

“Terri. She's a nurse at New York Presbyterian. I thought she would appreciate being a stone's throw away from work.” Destiny shuddered internally, the thought of her ex, who she had dumped for cheating on her with another woman 2 years ago, was still raw.

Sally nodded. “Well, let's start the tour. Hopefully it'll be just what you and Terri are looking for.”

Destiny followed the realtor inside and up the stairs.

“So Sherice? May I call you Sherice?” She asked. Destiny nodded and gestured for her to continue. “You've got all the basics; double glazing, running water, electricity and of course central heating.”

They reached apartment 105, and Sally unlocked the door but stopped on the threshold.

Sighing, she turned around flashing Destiny a sympathetic look.

“Honestly, Sherice, I want to level with you. The apartment is…not great. It's not a disaster either, but I wouldn't pay the asking price if I were you.”

Destiny smiled innocently. “What should I be expecting?” She asked, feigning interest.

The realtor half shrugged. “Let me show you, and you can see for yourself.”

They entered to find a small living area and adjoining kitchen. Destiny looked around the ceilings and walls, seeing the beginnings of mold and cracks in the walls.

“Well you can see for yourself that you’ve got your work cut out for you.” Sally wrung her hands nervously. “Mold, cracks in the walls and dear I say dry rot. It does need a lot of work done to it, I’ll admit.”

Destiny nodded, making a show of looking around the apartment. She had the realtor right where she wanted her, now it was time to spring the trap.

Sally followed Destiny's gaze. “It's a shame that the owners are at work right now. Otherwise we could've struck a deal today.” She shrugged, turning back to Destiny. “So, do you have any questions, Sherice?” The realtor asked expectantly.

“When will the owners be home, Sally?”

The pretty realtor shook her head. “Not until after 8 o’clock this evening I’m afraid.”

Destiny took the information in. Good, gives me plenty of time to infiltrate the office. She won't be found until tonight

She gestured to the master bedroom across from the bathroom. “Could I have a look at the wardrobe space in the master bedroom? My Terri has a lot of clothes, she's a real fashionista.”

Sally nodded her head. “Certainly, follow me.”

Destiny followed the realtor into the master bedroom and watched as Sally opened the modest walk-in wardrobe opposite the double bed.

“As you can see, Sherice, plenty of storage space. Perfect for the fashionista in your life.”

Destiny was impressed. “Wow, you could fit a body in there, am I right?”

The realtor chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose so. I never thought about it like that.”

Smiling, Destiny raised her right arm thin like a sword poised to strike, aiming for the nape of Sally's neck.

“When I say a body, I mean yours, Sally.”

The realtor blinked her big green eyes in surprise “W-what?! I don't under-ugh?!” She squeaked in pain as Destiny swiftly struck the back of her neck with the heel of her palm.

The brunette was unconscious before she hit the floor, her bright emerald eyes rolling into the back of her head. The realtor fell forwards into the wardrobe but Destiny caught her body deftly.

Destiny lowered the unconscious realtor onto her side. “Sorry, Sally. I'm sure you're a nice person but I need your clothes. It was nothing personal.”

Getting to work, she stripped off her leather jacket, tanktop, jeans and sneakers before turning her attention to the stricken realtor.

She put on the woman's jewellery first, but left her wedding ring, then pulled off the high heels.

Unfastening Sally's jacket, Destiny pulled the unconscious realtor up then removed the garment from her one arm at a time. She then unbuttoned the woman's silk blouse, revealing a well formed pair of C-cup breasts enveloped in a black lace plunge wonderbra.

Destiny whistled appreciatively. “Very nice, Sally. Are these for the husband, or wife, perhaps? Well let's see what's down below.”

Unzipping Sally's trousers, she worked them past her slender hips, pulling them down her long slender legs and off her body. “Well, well, I guess being a realtor pays well, eh, Sally? Very sexy.” Destiny said admiring the matching black lace thong protecting the realtor's modesty.

After slipping the blouse from the brunette's shoulders, Destiny quickly got dressed in Sally's pantsuit standing over the woman's scantily clad body, wearing only in her skimpy, black lingerie.

“The suit makes the woman. Wouldn't you agree, Sally?” Destiny quipped to the unconscious realtor, fastening the woman's jacket.

Kneeling, she worked out Sally's hair tie copying her bun then bound her wrists and ankles with cable ties and taped her mouth shut.

Taking the realtor under her shoulders, Destiny dragged her into the wardrobe propping her up against the wall, where she sat slumped with her head lolling on her shoulder. Her dark brown hair loosened about her bare shoulders.

“Sweet dreams, Sally. Thanks for your help.” she said sliding the wardrobe door shut. Gathering up Sally's black handbag, Destiny found the woman's keys, phone and wallet. She stowed her duct tape and ties inside, before looping the bag over her shoulder.

Folding up her discarded clothes, Destiny tucked them underneath her arm and left the apartment, locking the door behind her.

Retracing her steps back to the street, she opened the realtor's car with the key fob and stashed her clothes in the trunk.

Destiny then slid into the driver's side planting Sally's handbag onto the passenger seat. Switching on the ignition, she pulled out onto the road and headed south towards Gramercy Park.

Wright and Morley Realty LLC, 20 East 23rd Street, Gramercy Park, 11:15am

Wearing Sally's suit, Destiny strode through the entrance of Wright and Morley. The Office was bustling with clients and employees alike, to Destiny's left a young realtor was finalising a deal for luxury condominiums in the East Village for a handsome young couple.

While at a desk to her right, a supervisor was berating a young blonde realtor for not meeting her monthly selling quotas.

None of them noticed Destiny, wearing a stolen suit, slid into an empty desk and began her search. Typing in the address of the basketball court into the Wright and Morley intranet, Destiny smiled as the results flashed on the screen instantaneously.

The name of the buyer, who had made a substantial net gain from the sale, was a name that immediately caught her attention.

“Wade Michaelson? Of Michaelson and Son Family Foods Ltd. I've heard of him, born and bred in Brooklyn and once heir to the Michaelson food empire. It seems he inherited that recently from his dad and is making loads of money. According to what I read in the New York Post, some multinational company is looking to acquire his company.”

She lent back into the chair pensively. “He probably wants to flip the land he brought himself and expand his portfolio. And all at Harlem's expense..not if I have anything to say about it.” She clicked on the address for Michaelson's cannery. “It's on 15-16 Water Street, Vinegar Hill, Brooklyn. Well, I should pay him a little visit and get him to see the error of his ways.”

Quickly memorising the route with her photographic memory, Destiny shut off the monitors and slid out of the chair. She briskly walked out of the Realty, back into Sally's company car and pulled out of the car park onto East 23rd Street, following the signs to the Brooklyn Bridge.

Outside Michaelson and Son Cannery and Company Headquarters, Water Street, Vinegar Hill, Brooklyn, 12:20pm

Parking the Corolla in a discreet alley next to a noodle bar, Destiny changed out of Sally's suit and redressed in her leather jacket, tanktop, jeans and converse trainers. Folding up the realtor’s suit, she replaced it in the trunk, looped her rucksack over her shoulder and slammed the trunk suit.

She crossed the street and circled around to Plymouth Street, going through a small side alley to the rear loading dock of the Cannery. First things first, I'll need a change of clothes before heading inside. And since it's lunch, I'll bet there's a worker on her break who'll oblige me..

At the mouth of the alley, Destiny took cover behind a large industrial dumpster and peered into the loading dock. Not too far away facing Destiny and leaning against Michaelson branded crates, was a young female cannery worker puffing on a vape, hands covered by brown work gloves.

She was a slim african-american girl in her early twenties with cute ebony skinned diamond shaped features, big brown eyes and short black hair, covered by a hairnet and tied back into a small, practical ponytail. The girl's slim, petite figure was hugged by an unflattering green boiler suit with the Michaelson logo, a white stylised name with a smiling waving cartoon can, on the left breast. Perched on the girl's head were a pair of goggles, a surgical mask dangled from her neck and her feet covered by black laced steel toe-cap work boots. She also had a photo ID clipped to her right breast pocket, but at this distance Destiny couldn't make out the name.

She smiled. “That girl is close to my size but I need to get her over here and neutralise her. Luckily, I know an old trick or two…” Puckering up her lips, Destiny whistled “New York..”

Theresa Washington looked up from her strawberry milkshake vape. “Hello? Is someone there?” She said, brow furrowing as she heard the low whistle coming from the black dumpster in front of her.

“New York..” She heard the whistle again. “Hey! Whoever's behind there. You better clear out, this is a restricted area.” Putting away her vape into her left pocket, she stepped forward once, curiosity overriding common sense.

When she heard the whistle a third time, she shook her head. “Alright man, I'm coming for you and when I do, I'll scream for security. You got that?” She said her confidence tinged with fear.” Rolling her shoulders, Theresa walked towards the dumpster. Bet it's some neighbourhood punks. She thought.


Behind the dumpster, Destiny tensed like a spring waiting for the girl to round the corner. When she could smell the strawberry scent clinging to her uniform, she struck with the speed of a cobra.

She grabbed the girl's arm pulling her round the dumpster and in one slick move, coiled an arm around the workers throat and pushed forwards gently with a hand to the back of the head. Destiny used the girl's own forward momentum to walk her into the sleeper hold. It was a move learned from the army, and had worked like a charm on everyone from Taliban sentries to cannery workers.

Theresa let out a surprised squeak that turned into a choked sigh, her big brown eyes rolling back into her skull as Destiny lowered her young unconscious body to the pavement.

“Sorry…Theresa,” she quipped looking at the girl's ID, “allow me to give you a longer unsanctioned break.” Chuckling, she propped Theresa against the dumpster and stripped off her clothes.

When she was finished, she got to work on Theresa, pulling off the girl's goggles, hairnet, gloves and boots, revealing white lace trim ankle socks.

She then unzipped Theresa's boiler suit, peeling it off down the girl's tight young body, around her hips and down long ebony legs.

This left the unconscious Theresa propped up against the dumpster, wearing only her tight white half lace trim camisole, the nipples of her firm B-cups peeking through the fabric, and matching white bikini cut panties, her slim midriff housing a cute pierced navel.

Destiny pulled on Theresa's uniform, gloves, boots, mask, and goggles, pausing to steal her hair tie and adopting her ponytail before putting on the hairnet.

“Thanks Theresa,” she said to the unconscious Theresa, snapping on the mask “I'll be seeing your boss real soon.” Taking out her cable ties and duct tape, Destiny secured the scantily clad worker's wrists and ankles, and taped up her mouth.

Then scooping up Theresa in a fireman's carry, she laid the sleeping bound girl gently into the dumpster.

“You'll be wanting this back…” she took out the girl's atomiser and placed it beside her slumped body. “Sweet dreams kid,” She patted Theresa's cheek, “a free bit of advice: quit vaping.” Laughing she closed the dumpster, and creaking her neck, Destiny strode up to the rear entrance and slipped into the cannery.

Michaelson's Cannery and Company Headquarters, Factory Floor, 12:32pm


Dressed inconspicuously in Theresa's uniform, Destiny weaved her way through the noisy bustling factory floor, the grinding of the central conveyor belt drowning out all sound. At the far end of the cavernous canning floor was an elevator, and next to it a metal staircase that both lead up to the cannery's administration offices. Destiny looked up, rolling her shoulders. That's where I need to go to meet Michaelson but first, I need to get through the factory floor.

She soon spotted the factory floor supervisor, a tall caucasian man wearing a blue Michaelson's uniform, busy directing and barking orders to workers. I'll need to avoid being spotted or else I'll be taking Theresa's shift literally.

Taking up a loose clipboard, she pretended to take inventory of a cardboard stack of canned goods, turning her back to the supervisor to avoid his gaze.


She advanced towards the far side, doing a quick switch back as the supervisor strode towards two employees, berating them for slacking off. Destiny busied herself working the line, blending in as just another line worker on her afternoon shift. While the supervisor ticked off hourly production quotas.

After five minutes, she continued towards the elevator flowing past three talking line workers and rubbing the back of her neck as if she belonged there.

Reaching to press the elevator button, Destiny briefly glanced over her shoulder smiling as the supervisor disappeared further down the production line.

Entering the elevator, Destiny pulled off the hairnet, goggles and mask, stuffing them in her pockets. Feeling the jolt behind her navel as the elevator ascended, she creaked her neck in anticipation.

Michaelson's Cannery, Headquarters, Administration Offices, 1st Floor, 12:44pm

Coming off the elevator, Destiny emerged into a carpeted hallway and chipboard walls reminiscent of offices across the United States. She scanned each of the office doors. I'll need a change of clothes, otherwise I'll just get thrown out.

On her right hand side, a door marked “Storeroom” opened up to reveal a young teenage girl carrying a pack of A4 paper. Closing the door she turned to face Destiny, “Oh my God!” She reared back, “Don't sneak on me like that!”

Destiny sized the girl up; she had a cute girl next door look about her, no more than 19 years old and by her shy demeanour, an intern. She had fresh faced rounded features, dappled with light freckles on her cheeks and big blue almond shaped eyes framed by shoulder length auburn hair cut into a bob.

She clutched the ream of paper like a grenade.”Um, what are you doing up here? Workers aren't allowed unless called up by Mr Michaelson.”

The youth's tight, slim figure was hugged by a white suit jacket, belted brown slacks that showed off her hips and flat brown shoes. Underneath was a white plunge v-neck tip that hinted at small but well rounded young breasts. Around her neck was a love heart necklace with matching ear studs. She's definitely my size. Destiny grinned.

She cocked her head. “Don't worry, girl. Thanks to you, I just got a promotion.” She said with a pointed nod advancing on the redhead.

The intern reared back. “W-what? What are you doi-mmph!?” She cried, muffled by Destiny's hand that pinned her to the wall, the packet of paper dropping to the carpet.

With the finger and thumb of her other hand, she pinched the intern's vagus nerve, eliciting a muffled low aroused groan from the girl. Her big blue eyes rolled back into her skull as Destiny guided her unconscious form down the wall.

Stopping to tuck the paper under her arm, Destiny took the intern by her ankles, opened the storeroom door and dragged her inside.

Storeroom, 5 minutes later

“Apologies for inconveniencing you like this, Abigail but it's for a good cause.” Destiny said as she bound the young naked intern's wrists and ankles with cable ties. She had learned the girl's name from her driving licence, Abigail Palmer.

Abigail was dressed only in a grey lace plunge bra and matching scanty thong, her young tight body and pert breasts on full display.

Destiny was aroused by the sight. “With a body like that, sweetie, I would consider a new line of work.” She winked at the unconscious girl, taping her mouth shut and tapping her cheek.

She dragged the scantily clad Abigail under her arms, deeper into the storeroom. Concealing her body behind boxes of paper, Destiny put her cable ties and duct tape into the intern’s handbag.

Looping the bag over her shoulder, Destiny left the storeroom. Straightening her stolen suit jacket, she made her way to the second floor.

Michaelson's Cannery, Headquarters, Administration Offices, 1st Floor, 12:56pm

Before she reached the elevator banks leading up to the second floor, Destiny saw two staffers, one man and one young woman standing by a water cooler chatting.

She slowed down to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“So Mandy? Did you hear that those merger rumours are true?” Asked the male who sipped on his water.

Mandy, an attractive blonde in a black pantsuit nodded. “Yeah Steve, Amy from accounting told me that a rep from Procter & Gamble is here to see the boss about buying out the company. She's waiting outside Michaelson's office.” She took a long gulp.

Steve, a handsome man with dark black hair and moustache snorted into his plastic cup as he drank. “I hope the P & G rep knows what she's in for. Everybody knows that whole “Real Vegetables” shtick is just baloney. It's just our company trademark, nothing more.”

Mandy looked around nervously, as if the walls had ears. “Do you want to get fired?” She hissed. “I’ll keep that to yourself if I were you. You wouldn't want it to get back to him.”

Steve shrugged. “I'm just saying if word were to get out that Michaelson's short changing the tri-state area with his ‘lack of vegetable’ soup,” he said flexing his fingers, “then he'll be ruined for sure and can kiss this merger goodbye…”

Having heard enough, Destiny boarded the elevator and pressed for the second floor. As the lift ascended, a plan began to form in her mind. If I can get into that meeting and record him admitting that his whole soup Empire is a phoney, that will be enough to blackmail him to change his mind about the court. I'll just need to find this rep first…

The sound of the doors opening shook her from her thoughts. Rolling her shoulders she strode onto the second floor.

Michaelson's Cannery, Headquarters Executive Floor, Second Floor, 13:05pm

Destiny glanced over the floor plan. Memorising the layout, she noticed that Michaelson's office overlooked the canning floor and there was a meeting/boardroom along the north wall not too far away.

She massaged her chin. If the P & G rep is anywhere it'll be there. If I hurry, I can take her out, take her clothes and her identity. Michaelson won't know the difference Turning on her stolen heels, Destiny made her way to the meeting room.


She arrived five minutes later to find a short old woman with wiry grey hair and tortoiseshell horn rimmed spectacles, shaking the hand of a younger, middle aged woman standing outside the meeting room, the interior obscured by closed blinds.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Hargreaves. I'm Mrs Grant, Mr Michaelson's secretary. I shall let him know you've arrived.”

The woman, an attractive blonde with shoulder length honey blonde curls, framing a youthful made-up diamond features and big eyes, smiled. “Thank you, Mrs Grant. I appreciate the hospitality.” The slight lines from her thin mouth and the corners of her eyes betrayed her age. Destiny put her at around late thirties but didn't detract from the woman's mature beauty.

Her lean, athletic figure was garbed in a navy blue suit jacket, matching pencil skirt and heels. Underneath was a white tanktop. Around her neck she wore a pearl choker, with matching dangling earrings. She was also clutching a briefcase in her right hand. Destiny grinned. Nice suit, just my size. Now I need to get into that room.


As Mrs Hargreaves disappeared into the room, Mrs Grant snapped her fingers in Destiny's direction. “You there, intern. Stop standing around like a useless ornament and make yourself useful.”

Destiny held her hands behind her back. “How can I help, ma’am?”

The old secretary rolled her eyes. “For a start, don't call me ‘ma'am.’ You sound like a cop, it's Mrs Grant. And for seconds: make Mrs Hargreaves a cup of coffee, tea, water, or whatever she wants. Give a good impression to P & G and you'll get a bonus. I'll go and fetch Mr Michaelson.”

Destiny inclined her head. “Of course, Mrs Grant. I'll get right on it.”

The old woman nodded and ambled past her, disappearing around the corner.

Suppressing a grin, Destiny creaked her neck and proceeded inside.

[Stormtrooper1990]

The Meeting Room, 13:15pm

The blonde rep looked up from the table, her open briefcase set on the table. “Oh, hello there. Is there a problem?” Behind her was a large wooden cabinet.

Closing the door behind her, Destiny shook her head. “Not at all, Mrs Hargreaves. My name is Abigail Palmer, I'm an intern here. Mrs Grant sent me to see if you anything? Tea, coffee or any other refreshment?” She smiled innocently.

Putting down her papers, the blonde took a small breath and glanced over to the coffee machine resting along the north wall. “You know what, Abigail? I will take you up on that offer. Make mine black, two sugars, please.”

Destiny inclined her head, “Not a problem, Mrs Hargreaves. One espresso, with two sugars coming right up.” She walked around the table to prepare the coffee.

“Please, call me Stacey. With luck, your company will soon be part of the Procter & Gamble family.”

As the coffee bubbled away, Destiny walked behind her. “I'm afraid that won't be happening, Stacey. At least not today.”

Paula glanced at her over her shoulder. “What do you mean by that? I don't understand.” She asked, confused.

Suddenly, Destiny coiled her right arm around the blonde's throat and squeezed, while pressing her head gently forward.

“Because, I have my own meeting with Mr Michaelson and I need you out of the way. Temporarily, of course.” She whispered in the struggling woman's ear as she desperately tried to pull Destiny off of her. “And I'll be needing that suit of yours. It's a nice suit, if it's any consolation.”

Stacey tried to scream, but all that came out was a ragged breath. “Shh, Stacey. Don't struggle, it will hurt a whole lot more, trust me.” Destiny whispered gently, applying pressure onto the blonde's blood vessels, and feeling her struggles get weaker and weaker.

Then with a slow rattle of breath, Stacey slumped unconscious into Destiny's arms, her big brown eyes rolling into the back of her skull and arms hanging limply at her sides. To Destiny's right, the coffee machine had clicked and steam was shooting from the jug.

She gently draped Stacey's body over the table on her back and got to work. She stripped off Abigail's office casual wear before undressing the P & G rep.

Destiny worked quickly and methodically; first removing the blonde's jewellery and putting it on herself before slipping off her heels. Unbuttoning the suit jacket, she opened it out and pulled the garment off Stacey's shoulders along with the white tank top.

Admiring the blonde's generous C-cup breasts, enveloped by an expensive white lace one-piece undergarment, Destiny gently lowered the half naked unconscious woman onto the table. She then unzipped Stacey's skirt from the rear, peeling it down her long legs.

She quickly got dressed in the blonde's clothes. When she was finished, she used the last of her cable ties to bind Stacey's wrists and ankles, then taped her mouth suit.

Destiny took Stacey's scantily clad body into a fireman's carry, stashing her in a foetal position and covering her with Abigail's discarded outfit.

Walking over to the coffee machine, she poured out the coffee into a white mug and took a measure. It was warm but drinkable.

Sitting back down with her coffee, Destiny saw Stacey's smartphone sitting in her briefcase. I can use her phone to record Michaelson and blackmail him. Taking it out, she found it locked needing a face scan to open.

Smiling, she opened the cabinet and scanned Stacey's still sleeping face. “Thanks, Mrs Hargreaves.” She quipped, shutting the door again. “Adorable” She said, seeing the family portrait of Stacey, a dark haired man that looked like her husband and a blonde haired little girl who was the spitting image of her mother. She picked up the cup of coffee and finished it.

Setting the empty mug on the table, Destiny altered the settings, putting in a simple four digit PIN code and set up the recorder. Just as she set the device down on the table and darkened the screen, the meeting room door opened.

13:25pm


“Mrs Hargreaves, I presume?” Wade Michaelson said with a squeaky Brooklyn accent, holding out his hand while the other clutched a battle of Jim Bean whiskey with two tumblers.

Destiny shook his hand firmly. “Mr Michaelson, it's a pleasure we finally get to meet.”

He was a short, portly man in his late forties with balding dark brown hair, watery blue eyes framed by circular wire frames and a thick bushy moustache.

He smiled as they retreated to the meeting table.

“Yes, under my leadership my company’s profits have increased by a factor of 50%. Twice the profits made by my late father's tenure,” he took his seat and placed the bottle of Jim and tumblers on the table, “with this merger I'm sure I'll become a valuable member to the P & G family.”

Crossing her legs, Destiny nodded and looked over at the bottle of whiskey through tented fingers.

He picked it up grinning. “Oh, I like to drink a little whiskey during a business meeting,” he unscrewed the bottle, pouring out a snifter before hovering over the second tumbler. “Would you care for a shot, Mrs Hargreaves?”

Smiling, Destiny waved him away. “No thank you, Mr Michaelson. I'm a bourbon girl myself. Besides, as a rule I don't drink before six in the evening.”

Michaelson's round face went flush with embarrassment. “Oh right,” he replaced the bottle onto the table, “I guess that means more for me.” he chuckled nervously, taking up his tumbler.

She inclined her head forward. “Mr Michaelson. Before you said that your company's profits have increased by 50%. Could you please elaborate on what makes your company so profitable?”

Michaelson downed his whiskey and poured himself another.

“Well, Mrs Hargreaves. That's because I'm good at cutting corners,” he gestured with his whiskey, taking a sniff then downing it, “I've also got quite the entrepreneurial spirit, something else I inherited from my pappy.” He said with an air of pride.

Destiny leaned forward, gesturing to him to continue.

Michaelson leaned back in his chair, nursing his glass. “ I recently acquired this baseball court in Harlem for a low price and I plan to use my contacts at City Hall to change the land designation and I'll sell it for a -”

“Sorry, Mr Michaelson,” Destiny cut across him, “But could we go back to that ‘cutting corners’ part? What did you mean by that?”

Michaelson looked affronted at being interrupted, he downed his whiskey and poured out another.

“Well, I have come up with a new recipe for my soup…” He replied, a little higher in pitch, that didn't disguise the slur in his voice.

He took another shot and shakily refilled his glass, which he quickly downed.

“The secret to my success is that there is little to no vegetables in my soups. Actually, all there is water and flavour powders.” He slapped his knee and laughed, “Ha! Real Vegetables my ass! I'm actually surprised people eat that swill, but that's New Yorkers for you.”

Destiny grinned widely. “Thank you, Mr Michaelson, I think I've heard all I need to.” She reached over to the phone on the desk and switched the recording off.”

Michaelson reared back. “What the fuck is going on here? Why are you recording me?”

As if to answer his question, a loud thumping came from the cabinet behind Destiny. Along with a faint female “Mmmph!”

Michaelson rose from his seat.“And who the fuck is that?” He pointed a shaky finger at the cabinet, face flushed red with drink.

Destiny rose slowly from her seat. “You see, Mr Michaelson, I have a confession to make. I'm not Mrs Hargreaves representative from P & G,” She thumbed the cabinet behind her, “the woman in the cabinet is. I just borrowed her name and her clothes for our meeting.”

Michaelson collapsed back into his chair, bemused. “What the fuck? I knew I should have listened to Gladys and stopped drinking.” He rubbed his face. “I mean who says something like that?” He looked up at her. “Who are you?”

Destiny ignored him and leaned on his chair's arm rests. “You can call me Destiny. Mr Michaelson let me square away a few things; Unless you want everyone finding out what you truly think of your soup,” She shook Stacey's phone, “you'll do what I say when I say it, which won't be much. You do that and I'll delete this recording.”

She leaned up and checked the time on the phone. “I'll call you back at 16:00, that should give you enough time to sober up. A free bit of advice: drink three cups of coffee.” She turned to the meeting room door, putting one hand on the knob.

Shaking his head, Michaelson looked at the cabinet that was still banging. “What am I supposed to do about her?”

Destiny looked back at him, shrugging one shoulder. “That's your call, getting her some new clothes would be a good start,” her expression then turned thoughtful. “ Perhaps, this was all corporate espionage? After all, your recipe is so good everyone wants a piece of it.” she laughed before disappearing back into the corridor.

Ignoring the frantic banging and muffled cries from the cabinet, Wade Michaelson leaned back in his chair and breathed. “Fuck…”

Apartment 232, Waterstone Heights Apartment Block, East 118th Street, East Harlem, NYC, 18:15pm

Now dressed in her nightclothes, a green US Army vest and black hipster shorts, Destiny sat on her sofa with a bottle of budweiser watching the nightly channel 6 news.

An attractive young brunette newsreader beamed at the camera, “In local news, Brooklyn entrepreneur and food kingpin Wade Michaelson has donated a basketball court to the grateful residents of Harlem. For more on this, let's go to Manhattan correspondent Ashley Yarwood.”

The screen then flashed to a pretty redheaded reporter and Michaelson who was surrounded by smiling african-american teenagers. Behind them was the basketball on Douglass Boulevard. Destiny smiled, he actually looked more sober than earlier. She took a measure of beer.

“Mr Michaelson? What made you decide to grant this generous gift to Harlem?” Asked Ashley as she pointed her mike to Michaelson.

Michaelson stood on his tiptoes, in a vain effort to appear taller than Ashley. “Well, Ashley, the youth of our great city are our future and I wanted to give back to the community. After all, every New York kid has the right to play B-ball and keep out of trouble, to make something of themselves.”

Ashley smirked. “And I guess some positive PR doesn't hurt, right, Mr Michaelson?”

To his credit, he shook his head. “Ashley, I refute such a baseless remark. After all, everybody eats Michaelson's; What do I need extra PR for?”

Nodding, Ashley turned back to the camera. “Well, that's all from me. Back to you Cindy.”

The brunette newsreader reappeared. “Thanks, Ashley. Coming up, the sports report with Clint Brockman. But first we'll break for these messages.”

Destiny took another swig of her beer as the first commercial came, which coincidentally was one for Michaelson's.

It featured a pretty young blonde mother calling her son and daughter for dinner. They sat around the dinner table as the mother poured out the soup, smelling it exaggeratingly.

Then a male voiceover said. “Michaelson's Vegetable Soup. Nothing but Vegetables. Make your kids grow up big and strong. Michaelson's.” Followed by a catchy singsong jingle sung by a dancing can.

Laughing, Destiny finished off her beer and picked up Stacey's phone. “All in a day's work…” she said deleting the recording.

[meditions142]

Well thanks so much for adding a new chapter of the story. Destiny continues to be a wonderful, fun character.

Always a classic to have a museum infiltration. Still love the idea of that Destiny and her employer have been hired by the operator of the facility Destiny is infiltrating. It is just a test basically but that doesn't stop Destiny from rendering multiple women unconscious and stealing their clothes.

Then we get the classic scene of taking a women out on her break. And what a wonderful target, a pretty, young blue eyed blonde. Then a wonderful sleeperhold. And great dialogue including “Karen, sweetie. Don't fight it, it will only hurt you more.” And love the description of Karen going out "Her squirming growing weaker and weaker, Karen let out a choked rattle of breath, unconscious dead weight slumping as her big blue eyes rolled into the back of her sockets and arms falling limply to dangle at her side."

And of course we get the fun little comment on Karen's boobs and underwear!

Then of course we have a wonderful and classic bathroom ambush of a guard. Love the rather rough take down of Reyes. Starting with a hit to the solar plexus that temporarily paralyzed her. Then love the Vague Nerve pinch and also the idea that the pretty guard "let out a low aroused purr". Despite what happened Reyes cleared got turned on on some level.

And then of course we get the wonderful image of the very pretty young woman sitting unconscious or the toilet in her thong and underwear vest with nipples showing probably still hard from the arousal she felt when pinched.

And such a fun little exchange with the museum Director:

“I see, it would have been the theft of the century. W-where is the unfortunate young lady now?”

“In a broom cupboard off the main gallery, naked and a little tied up. There's also one of your tour guides in a dumpster in the side alley and one of your security personnel in the women's staff toilets.” She said with a small smile.

“G-good God!” He stammered. “Will they need medical attention?”

Preston put a placating hand on his shoulder. “Athena has it covered, Director. An ambulance is on the way and all medical insurance will be paid for. However, your affected staff will need to sign non-disclosure agreements to avoid any…legal entanglements.”

The Director sighed. “Well I guess that's a small price to pay for peace of mind. At least the women will be fine in the long term.”

The Director's comments are wonder like asking “Will they need medical attention?” and then his "At least the women will be fine in the long term." comment.

The rest of the story of course has wonderful scenes. The one that really stuck out to me was the scene with Abigail. Love the image of Destiny covering her mouth both to silence her and push her against the wall. Then a wonderful pinch to the girl's Vagus Nerve followed by the image of Destiny guiding her body down the wall to the floor. And then a wonder ankle drag to move her unconscious body out of sight.

And you describe the scene quite well "Abigail was dressed only in a grey lace plunge bra and matching scanty thong, her young tight body and pert breasts on full display." And it obviously impressed Destiny given her comment: "“With a body like that, sweetie, I would consider a new line of work.”

Just as fabulous and fun chapter. Really, really like Destiny as a character.

[Stormtrooper1990]

Your quite welcome, my friend, I'm glad you enjoyed Chapter 2.

Indeed, facilities like the MoMA do take their security seriously and have to consider the possibility of an infiltrator like Destiny making use of disguises.

It's difficult to pick a favourite between Karen or Reyes because I had fun writing both. But if I had to chose than it would be Reyes since I'm pleased with how the dynamic knockout turned out. And that Reyes is a fit young woman easily taken out by Destiny in just two moves.

What I loved the most about this chapter were these dialogues between Destiny and the museum director and later her meeting with Michaelson. With the director meeting, it was to showcase how Athena operates and the general fate of the unfortunate women after the audit is complete. Of course, when Destiny goes vigilante those victims will eventually be discovered by passersby.


I'm glad you enjoyed Abigail's ambush; that was my particular favourite during Destiny's infiltration of the Cannery, since it was the overt variation of the neck pinch. I wanted Abigail's aesthetic to be similar to Britney's, except in this case Abigail is a shy girl, wearing sexy underwear to boost her confidence and to impress her male colleagues. However, the poor girl had no idea that she would be target for Destiny, or that her shift would end abruptly with her losing her clothes.

Thanks again for reading and enjoying the story, I'm glad you enjoy Destiny as a character. Her adventures will continue in chapter 3, where her world will be expanded.

[meditions142]

With the director meeting, it was to showcase how Athena operates and the general fate of the unfortunate women after the audit is complete.

I still find that one of the most intriguing things about story. Basically, the companies hire Destiny's employee to run the security audit. However, Destiny has no concerns about knocking multiple women working for the company unconscious, sometimes in rather rough ways.

[Stormtrooper1990]

With the director meeting, it was to showcase how Athena operates and the general fate of the unfortunate women after the audit is complete.

I still find that one of the most intriguing things about story. Basically, the companies hire Destiny's employee to run the security audit. However, Destiny has no concerns about knocking multiple women working for the company unconscious, sometimes in rather rough ways.

Indeed, she's very good at what she does and still has that operational detachment from her soldiering days. Destiny is attracted to other women but she wouldn't hesitate to render them unconscious, sometimes roughly, if it means acquiring a disguise to complete her goals.

I think in the context of Destiny's audits, she is rough because in a realistic infiltration scenario that's how a real infiltrator would be. So it only underscores the importance of security to the companies that hire Athena.