Emma's House

You arrive in a taxi, and are buzzed in by the security sitting in the guardhouse as you pass by. You are expected.

Her house is grander than what you anticipated, a classic mansion type affair with an immaculately manicured lawn. Liz isn’t with you. Although it would certainly be impressionable to make an entrance with two girls at once, you figure that Emma wouldn’t really appreciate the gesture.

The door swings open to reveal an alluring figure in a very revealing dress.

“How nice of you to stop by,” Emma says, tossing her hair back. “I was about to head off to the party all lonely.”

“Good thing I rescued you from that fate,” you say.

“How would I have managed,” she says shaking her head.

“Are you going to drive us there?” you ask.

“Of course. How else could I show off my house to you first?”

With that, she heads indoors, and you follow closely behind. Beyond the first wooden corridor is a lavish reception space, filled with couches and glass and modern paintings, which wouldn’t look entirely out of place in an office building if not for the ordinary household items scattered around.

“Sorry about the mess, the maid was due to come in earlier but she’s still working through the second floor,” Emma apologizes.

“No problem,” you say. “I’m still working on getting a second floor.”

“That’s a good one,” she says, laughing. You raise an eyebrow and keep following her as you pass through an elaborate kitchen with dozens of gleaming devices that have probably never seen use.

“Do you have a chef?”

“Usually two, when I’m hosting events,” Emma says. “It’s hard to keep up otherwise. The carpark’s right here.”

“Quite spacious,” you say, looking across the extended garage. It looks like it could fit a good twenty cars or so, although only half the spaces are filled. As a superspy, you get to drive top of the line sportscars on international budget, so you let out an appreciative whistle at the selection on offer.

“What do you say we take, Mr. Bond?” Emma says. “Unfortunately, none of them have built in machine guns.”

“I fear for my safety already,” you say. “Let’s go with that one.”

“Oh, that’s a nice Ferrari, it was my second car,” Emma says. “You wanna drive?”

“Sure,” you say, and she opens the car door and sits in. It’s a convertible, and with the roof down, you can’t help but roll over the front and slide into your seat.

“Slick,” Emma says. “Keys are in already.”

Suddenly, a figure bursts through the door leading into the mansion. It’s the maid, and she’s got a shotgun in her hand.

“Where are you hiding the USB?” she begins, but you’ve already drawn your concealed silenced handgun and fired.

The bullet pierces her right hand, and she drops her weapon in pain. As she aims to draw her own sidearm, you roll out of the car and fire in one motion, shooting her other hand. The would-be maid runs back through the door, but you’re faster than her, and as you make it into the kitchen, you leap and tackle her onto the ground. Seconds later, Emma appears behind you, shocked.