PAST DREAM: 4/13/08
I am a spy, the kind that is stereotypical in tight patent leather jumpsuits and spike heels, with utility belts filled with noxious gases and knives and surveillance equipment. My hair is sixties-girl-pop, high with bangs and curled out at the ends, and I look fucking awesome, like I’m fucking Agent 99 or something. The fun part is, I am crazy-renegade about it. The US thinks I’m working for them, and some other country thinks I’m working for them, and each side thinks I’m a double agent working for them. I’m not a double agent—I don’t have a true alliance. Instead I take what information I can from both sides, and then choose to release bits and pieces of stuff. I work with a group of people like myself, like Superspies Anonymous, and we secretly meet up and pick and choose our battles. We act as watchdogs, exerting judgment over what countries should know what. Sometimes I tell the US important details, sometimes I don’t, and I do this for the other country as well. We balance the world powers; we are all-powerful. It is all about balance, and it works, and it rocks.
