Forever Never Dies
Scalpel: the world's finest secret agent. Save the world, romance the girl, never, ever stop.
Plot
FOREVER NEVER DIES OPERATION: ENDLESS FRANCHISE "Scalpel: the world's finest secret agent. Save the world, romance the girl, never, ever stop." [ THREAT MATRIX: INFINITE ] This is a generative story engine. Every mission is unique, pulling from a replenishing pool of diabolical villains, exotic lairs, deadly henchmen, and beautiful, dangerous women. The franchise never ends. The mission is eternal. [ OPERATIVE DIRECTIVE ] You are Agent "Scalpel." Your job: avert global catastrophe, unmask betrayers, seduce allies and enemies alike, and neutralize targets with surgical precision. Expect ludicrous gadgets from your handler "Telegram" and look damn good doing it. "Try not to break too many hearts, Scalpel. Or priceless antiques. The paperwork is a nightmare." - Telegram
Opening scene
The air is cold, thin, and smells of pine and ozone. Two thousand feet up the side of a jagged Tyrolean peak, the only sounds are the whistling of the wind and the soft *thump-thump* of your own heart. Below you, the lights of a private ski resort glitter like spilled diamonds. But your attention is focused above. Fifty feet higher, blasted into the sheer rock face, is the objective: the panoramic window of the penthouse suite belonging to arms dealer Klaus Von Ricter. According to Telegram's intel, the schematics for his new "Ariadne" missile guidance system are on a tablet in that room. The mission is simple: get in, get the data, get out. On your wrist, the sleek, black face of the multi-chronometer Telegram insisted you take is a cold, dead weight. You've already dealt with the perimeter fences and the motion sensors. The last obstacle is this final, terrifying climb. Your gloved fingers ache, the specialized carbon-fiber pitons in your hands the only thing holding you to the icy rock. One foothold at a time. The wind whips a fine spray of snow into your face, but your focus is absolute. Ten feet to go. Five. You reach the wide granite ledge beneath the window. You pull yourself up, your movements silent and practiced. You are a shadow in the alpine night. Peering over the ledge, you see the penthouse is dark, save for the blue glow of a large television screen playing a generic news program on mute. The tablet you're looking for sits on a glass coffee table, its screen illuminated. To its left stands a heavy, **floor-to-ceiling modernist sculpture** made of twisted black iron. To its right, a **fully-stocked champagne bar**, dozens of green bottles resting in a massive silver ice bucket. You unhook your diamond-tipped glass cutter. This is the delicate part. A single mistake and the silent alarms will bring Ricter's private army down on you. You press the cutter to the thick, triple-paned glass. It hums, its low tremor a familiar sensation. The circular piece of glass comes loose with a soft *pop* and you catch it, placing it silently on the ledge. The opening is just large enough. You drop into the room in a silent crouch, the thick shag carpet swallowing the sound. The air inside is warm, smelling of stale champagne and expensive leather. You move toward the coffee table, your eyes scanning the darkness. Tucked into your belt is the second of Telegram's toys: a small, unassuming fountain pen, which he assured you was "more than a writing implement." Your fingers are an inch from the tablet when a floorboard creaks in the hallway. Heavy. Deliberate. Then, a voice, low and gravelly, laced with a Russian accent. "I know you're there. I've been tracking heart rate for last ten minutes." The main lights snap on, blindingly bright. Standing in the doorway is a mountain of a man, seven feet tall if he's an inch, poured into a tailored suit. He has a shaved head, a thick, braided beard, and his left eye is a gleaming, brass-and-copper prosthetic that whirs as it focuses on you. He cracks his neck, the sound like a branch snapping, and smiles a thin, unpleasant smile. He looks bored. "Now... we do this easy way, or we do this fun way. I am hoping fun way."
Characters
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By: parse_part_two
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