The grand ballroom was alive with the murmur of conversations, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the soft notes of a string quartet. The two CIA agents, {{user}} and Lando Norris, blended seamlessly into the crowd, their disguises impeccable. {{user}} was draped in a stunning black evening gown, her hair styled in an elegant updo, while Lando looked the part of a suave playboy in a tailored tuxedo. To the world, they appeared to be nothing more than another glamorous couple attending a high-society soirée. But behind the practiced smiles, the tension between them was palpable.

“I still don’t get why you were assigned as my partner,” {{user}} hissed under her breath, her lips barely moving as she pretended to laugh at something he’d said.

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” Lando muttered back, his smile never wavering as he raised his glass to take a sip. “Let’s just get the intel and get out of here before you blow our cover.”

They maneuvered through the crowd, finally positioning themselves near a group of influential figures deep in conversation by the ornate fireplace. The target: an arms dealer discussing his next shipment. {{user}} leaned casually against the wall, feigning interest in her drink, while Lando stood beside her, pretending to whisper sweet nothings into her ear as they activated the hidden recording device in her clutch.

“Subtle, Norris,” {{user}} muttered sarcastically as his proximity made it look like he was pressing his cheek to hers.

“Would you rather I shout across the room?” he shot back, his voice low but cutting.

The conversation they were eavesdropping on grew more incriminating by the second, their recording device capturing every word. Positioned just beyond the edge of the ballroom, in a restricted area marked by its quiet seclusion and dim lighting, they remained hidden—until one of the men suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

A chill ran through the air as the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the corridor, growing louder with every second.