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Meteorite
- Joined
- May 30, 2025
Mafia Boss V FBI Starlet
A dusty file lands with a soft thud on the desk before you as your Supervisory Special Agent takes his seat across from you. The morning sun filters through half-drawn blinds, catching motes of dust in a slow, golden drift.
"Now Jess… what's said in this room stays between us. You understand?" His brow arches as he leans forward slightly, the weight of unspoken pressure settling in the room. "Go on—take a look."
The file is thick, worn, and heavy with secrets. He waits as you flip it open.
"You don't need me to introduce that bastard," he says, nodding at the photo clipped to the first page. "Tony DiMarco. Mafia boss. Controls every inch of this goddamn city—at least the parts that matter."
He parts the blinds slightly with two fingers, revealing the faint silhouette of the Statue of Liberty in the distance. "He's been untouchable for over twelve years. Every time we get close, the trail goes cold. Witnesses vanish. Evidence disappears. Agents end up dead."
He sips from a plain black mug—Scotch mixed with coffee, if your nose isn't mistaken. "He's behind it all: extortion, illegal gambling, trafficking, laundering, murder. Even people in witness protection aren't safe anymore."
The thick-set, balding chief exhales a long, weary breath and slouches deeper into his chair, which creaks under him like it shares the weight of his failure. "We're done playing defense. It's time to up the ante."
His eyes meet yours—hard, tired, but still sharp. "That's where you come in, Jess… if you're willing."
A beat of silence.
"We want you to go undercover as a lap dancer at DiMarco's club in Midtown Manhattan. Simply named DiMarco's. Real high-end place. Exclusive clientele. Cash business. Everything about it stinks."
He hesitates, then runs a hand over his face. "Look—I'm going to sound unprofessional as hell here, so forgive me—but with your long blonde hair, that face, and that body… you fit the profile. Perfect bait." He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Don't report me to HR, alright?"
The smirk fades quickly. He leans forward again, voice low and serious. "This isn't just dangerous, Jess. It's radioactive. We suspect corruption inside the Bureau—top to bottom. That's why it's just you and me here. No task force. No committee."
He stares at you for a long moment.
"You can say no. No pressure. You walk out of here with your head high and nobody will think any less of you—not me, not anyone. But if you say yes…" he pauses, voice rough, "you'll be doing what no one else has dared in over a decade."
He leans back into his cracked leather chair. Another creak. Another breath. "So—what do you say?"
————————————————————
Hey there! Complete newbie to the website so thanks for taking the time to read my first prompt on here. I hope you enjoyed my first attempt. Feel free to get in touch if my post sparked some intrigue and I’d be happy to discuss further or feel free to jump right in! See you soon!
A dusty file lands with a soft thud on the desk before you as your Supervisory Special Agent takes his seat across from you. The morning sun filters through half-drawn blinds, catching motes of dust in a slow, golden drift.
"Now Jess… what's said in this room stays between us. You understand?" His brow arches as he leans forward slightly, the weight of unspoken pressure settling in the room. "Go on—take a look."
The file is thick, worn, and heavy with secrets. He waits as you flip it open.
"You don't need me to introduce that bastard," he says, nodding at the photo clipped to the first page. "Tony DiMarco. Mafia boss. Controls every inch of this goddamn city—at least the parts that matter."
He parts the blinds slightly with two fingers, revealing the faint silhouette of the Statue of Liberty in the distance. "He's been untouchable for over twelve years. Every time we get close, the trail goes cold. Witnesses vanish. Evidence disappears. Agents end up dead."
He sips from a plain black mug—Scotch mixed with coffee, if your nose isn't mistaken. "He's behind it all: extortion, illegal gambling, trafficking, laundering, murder. Even people in witness protection aren't safe anymore."
The thick-set, balding chief exhales a long, weary breath and slouches deeper into his chair, which creaks under him like it shares the weight of his failure. "We're done playing defense. It's time to up the ante."
His eyes meet yours—hard, tired, but still sharp. "That's where you come in, Jess… if you're willing."
A beat of silence.
"We want you to go undercover as a lap dancer at DiMarco's club in Midtown Manhattan. Simply named DiMarco's. Real high-end place. Exclusive clientele. Cash business. Everything about it stinks."
He hesitates, then runs a hand over his face. "Look—I'm going to sound unprofessional as hell here, so forgive me—but with your long blonde hair, that face, and that body… you fit the profile. Perfect bait." He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Don't report me to HR, alright?"
The smirk fades quickly. He leans forward again, voice low and serious. "This isn't just dangerous, Jess. It's radioactive. We suspect corruption inside the Bureau—top to bottom. That's why it's just you and me here. No task force. No committee."
He stares at you for a long moment.
"You can say no. No pressure. You walk out of here with your head high and nobody will think any less of you—not me, not anyone. But if you say yes…" he pauses, voice rough, "you'll be doing what no one else has dared in over a decade."
He leans back into his cracked leather chair. Another creak. Another breath. "So—what do you say?"
————————————————————
Hey there! Complete newbie to the website so thanks for taking the time to read my first prompt on here. I hope you enjoyed my first attempt. Feel free to get in touch if my post sparked some intrigue and I’d be happy to discuss further or feel free to jump right in! See you soon!