Notes:  Occurs at the same time as Mousetrap.  It's not strictly necessary to have read that story first, though the intent is that one has.

--Day Zero--

"I don't like it," Dorothy said quietly. Ange lowered her telescope, and glanced at the older girl. Her expression remained neutral.

"All is according to plan thus far. I do not see why things should change now."

"Yeah, I know. It just feels too pat. Too simple, you know?"

"You suspect a trap."

"Yeah."

"Well. There is no better spot to disarm a trap than from within it."

"Says the mouse," Dorothy grumbled.

"We are doomed to die a horrible death at a young age, Dorothy. Best to get it over with and not fear it before it happens."

Dorothy laughed bitterly.

"You're no Shakespeare, but what the hell. Good day to die and all?"

"Indeed."

Dorothy hooked her arm over Ange's shoulders, and the two glowed green. Ange stood, effortlessly lifting Dorothy with one arm, and began to run down the side of the building. As they passed an open window, Dorothy grabbed the sill, and pulled herself in.

"This is my stop. Good luck and don't get dead."

"Break a leg," Ange stated as she continued running.

Dorothy watched Ange for a moment, before shaking her head and turning her attention to her mission. She closed the window and took stock of the room she was in: messy, unmade bed. Shabby chest-of-drawers. Cheap porcelain vase with five oxeye daisies.

Check, check, and check. She moved slowly over to the interior door, pressing her ear against it. She heard voices. Two male voices. She frowned.

Ange was going to meet a contact. One female contact. Dorothy had been sent here to meet with a pair of Commonwealth agents. Also supposed to be female.

She stood up, took a deep breath, and spent a moment strategically arranging her skimpy top to reveal more of her full breasts. Then, with a nod, she opened the door.

Two men turned to look at her. Both wore shabby grey suits, and sloppy straight-ties. Bowler hats sat on a card table.

"Well," Dorothy said with a smile. "Hello boys." She sauntered into the room, hips swaying.

"Daisy?" one man asked.

"Depends," she said, leaning down in front of him, nearly pressing her breasts into his face. He gulped, and squirmed. "Who're you?"

"Mary. He's Samantha."

Dorothy laughed. "Cute. So, Mary," Dorothy said, placing her hands on his shoulders. "How's your garden grow?"

The other man, Samantha, frowned. "We don't have time for this. You Daisy or not?"

Dorothy sighed, and turned her head to him. "All business eh? No time for a little fun?"

"C'mon Sam," Mary said in a wavering voice. "Lighten up a bit, eh?"

Dorothy turned back to him, leaning forward with a smile. Mary grinned and let her cleavage envelop his face.

"Mary's got the right idea," Dorothy cooed, settling onto his lap, and running her hands through his hair.

"Fucking ... alright, Daisy. You wanna fuck around first, fine. It isn't gonna change things."

He drew a revolver from a holster at his side, and aimed it at Dorothy.

She ignored him. She pressed forward against Mary's crotch, pulling back enough to shift his attention to her face. He gulped again, and reached forward, cupping Dorothy's breasts.

"Oi, you're being held up here!"

Dorothy sighed, again, and turned back to Samantha. "Jesus, wait your fucking turn. I get you're horny, but .…"

"God Dammit, stand up and put your hands up. No one's getting fucked tonight, got it?"

Dorothy shrugged, and stood up. Mary groaned in disappointment, and Dorothy shrugged.

"Sorry, guess your girlfriend here's got other ideas."

Mary turned to Samantha. "Seriously, we can roger her all night long, Sam. We don't have to be nowhere, just so long's we get her in by morning."

Sam frowned. "And that's what this bitch wants. Get us all hot and bothered, distracted, then she makes her move."

Dorothy shrugged. "I can make a move now if you like. Got two hands. A mouth, Pussy and ass. Plenty to go round for you both."

Sam stood up, glowering. "Shut the fuck up! Hands on your head, and step back. Don't even think of trying anything."

Dorothy rolled her eyes, and complied, thrusting her breasts forward as she did so, with a suggestive gasp. "Playing rough with me will get you everywhere, you know."

Sam sighed. "I'm not supposed to shoot you, but you keep this up .…"

"Hey, Sam. Cool it, okay? It's just us. She ain't going nowhere. C'mon."

Sam slapped the tabletop with his palm. "You seriously wanna bone her? Fine. Go on, and I hope your dick shrivels up and falls off. Me, I'm gonna hold this gun to her head while you do that, just in case."

"Kinky," Dorothy said with a smirk and a wink.

Sam glowered, and sat down. He kept the gun aimed at Dorothy's head.

She shrugged. "Well, you gonna get busy, Mary?"

He glanced at Sam, then at Dorothy. He grinned, and stepped forward, cupping her breasts again with both hands.

Dorothy, grinning widely, cupped his cheeks. "There we go. Isn't that nice?"

Mary nodded. Then Dorothy gripped his cheeks firmly and drove her knee up hard into his crotch.

"Fuck!" Sam shouted. He squeezed the trigger of his gun, but Dorothy had ducked out of the way. The gunshot echoed in the room.

Mary fell to the floor, a ragged hole in his back.

Before Sam could react, Dorothy's boot connected with his face. There was a crunching sound, and he slumped to the floor, blood oozing out of his nostrils.

Dorothy took a deep breath, and shook her head. "What a waste."