Insertion had gone smoothly. Climbing into a tube as FBI Agent Kevin Sharp, you had stepped out as Anna Lombardi. They had given you her clothes and jewelry to wear, tagged you with a tracking chip, briefed you on her personal details and history, and then driven you through the city to a bar on the outskirts.
You sat at the bar, nervously fingering a girly cocktail, until three men entered. They glanced around the bar, their eyes fixing on you. "Boss' been looking for you," one of them growls.
You're rather roughly manhandled into a limousine outside and driven even further out. You feel a heavy weight settle in your stomach as the limo slips inside the walled compound that is Salvatore Lombardi's mansion.
Like you said, insertion into the cover had gone smoothly. But that's not exactly the insertion that worries you as the eyes of your guardians rove over your body.
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