Laying in the water surprisingly did wonders for a young person's psyche. It allowed said young person to relax, ease their mind, and diffuse the tension in a particularly tense situation. The water can also grant the young person an ample opportunity to reflect upon the circumstances that led them to that particularly tense situation.
In place of that young person was Max, a 10-year-old Indian boy whose naked body was currently sprawled across the body of water as he floated above it. Currently debating on how he managed to get himself stuck in the particularly tense situation (skinny dipping in the heat of the night with a girl his age), he watched with his peripheral vision as the girl in question gracefully performed backstroke laps around him. The event was predominantly silent, with the exception of a rare few moments where Vera caught his gaze and giggled mirthfully, as if she was purposefully riling him up.
What's her deal, anyway? She and her friends failed to pop a few cyanide pills and were instead offered ice cream. Ice cream that I should've indulged in! Although, to be fair, I backstabbed my own friends in favor of a group of government spies, so I shouldn't hold that against them.
. . .
So was this her plan? To distract me or use for an ulterior motive?
Vera eventually ceased her backstrokes and met Max's gaze. Sending her a quizzical look, he momentarily forgot that she was just as naked as he was.
"You're perceptive, Maximilian," Vera smirked, "Very perceptive."
"It's just Max," The Indian boy narrowed his eyes at her.
"Maximilian, Maximus, Maxwell. Your multiple alias matter little."
Vera restarted her swimming, albeit she took a far more slower and seductive approach.
"What matters a lot are your particular set of skills."
"What particular set of skills?"
"Why, those you have acquired over the course of your stay in Camp Campbell, of course," Vera continued.
"I'm still not catching on," Max frowned.
"You know, for all your disdain of Camp Campbell, you have picked up a surprisingly large assortment of talents and abilities from the camp's various activities," Vera elaborated, "Archery Camp. Magic Camp. Knitting Camp. Was I wrong to deem you perceptive?"
"I can be very perceptive whenever I like," Max retorted.
"We'll see," Vera smirked again as she continued swimming laps around him.
"What are—?"
"Skinny dipping can beneficial for a person such as yourself," Vera ignored an increasingly confused Max, "Without the constraints of clothing, it can lead to improved blood circulation, reduced stress levels, and even enhanced skin health. It can release the more harmful toxins from your body and reduce the chances of chronic illnesses building up inside."
Just as Max was daring to ask what exacly Vera was going with this, the Russian spy slowed to a stop and stared curved daggers at him, the same smirk never once leaving her face.
"Unfortunately..." Vera inched closer and closer to Max's face, "It can also prevent the authorities in your country from finding a body or corpse that they wish to locate for evidence."
. . .
. . .
. . .
Oh. That's where she was going with that.
"Yep," Max huffed, "I should've seen this close."
"Still very perceptive in my eyes," Vera smiled this time, "And still very impressive."
Max could not help but return the smile, "So...what do you want to do?"
"Despite your friend offering a peace treaty of sorts," Vera explained, "My superiors in my homeland will inflict retribution nonetheless on me for my failure, just as they will do for my fellow foreign exchange campers."
"So you need to complete a mission that you think will possibly redeem yourself in their eyes?" Max hypothesized, causing Vera to smile once more.
"As I stated earlier, very perceptive of you, Maxwell."
With that, Vera began to swim away from Max, who was prompted to follow.
"Wait!" Max harshly whispered, "Where are we going?"
"To Campbell Manor," Vera whispered back, "There lays the proper weapons and equipment I will need for my mission."
"But our clothes...!" Max protested further.
"We will be back before the sun rises," Vera reassured him.
With no other choice, Max followed Vera to Spooky Island, where Campbell Manor awaited them. Upon reaching the shoreline, he faceplanted in the muddy sand and laid there for a brief moment as she surfaced from the water. He raised his head up the moment she walked past him, giving him a surprisingly nice look as her behind. Noticing this, Vera shot Max a flirtatious look before strutting a lot less subtly, causing him to groan in agitation and reluctantly pulled himself up from the sand.
Following her inside, Max shivered as the cold air of Campbell Manor greeted him before looking on in disbelief as Vera nonchalantly explored the mansion.
How the hell is she not freezing?!
"If you're wondering why I am unfazed by the cold environment," Vera explained, "It is because my mentors trapped students such as myself in the frozen forest for more than 24 hours."
"Oh," Max understood and shrugged, "I'm sorry, I guess. For you having to put up with that..."
"There is no need for apologies, Maxwell," Vera shook her head as she continued searching the manor, "Pain and suffering builds strength and character. I was given a choice on those days: survive or die."
Pulling a lever that revealed a secret passageway, Vera beckoned Max over just as the door eventually closed. The latter continued to shiver as the former led the way down the stairwell, which led to a mini-weaponry of sorts. Largely consisting of firearms and explosives, the mini-weaponry also contained melee weapons of the like, such as swords, knives, bows-and-arrows, and even yo-yos.
"It is not the Soviet Union's arsenal, but it'll do," Vera muttered and shrugged to herself as she took down several handguns from the pegs on the wall, including (but not limited to) a SIG-Sauer P226R, a SIG-Sauer P226 Super Capacity Tactical with Magwell grips, a 3rd Generation Glock 17, a 3rd Generation Glock 19, a 3rd Generation Glock 21, and a Beretta 92FS among others. Performing a press check on all her provided pistols, she then moved on to her long arms. She took up a Mossberg 500 Persuader, a Remington 870 Police Magnum with a standard magazine tube and wooden furniture, a Remington 870P, and a sawn-off 12 Gauge Double-Barreled Shotgun before acquiring a M4A1 Carbine with an Aimpoint M68 red dot scope and RIS foregrip.
"Should I even bother asking?" Max hugged his arms.
"No, of course not," Vera continued loading ammunition and chamber checking her group of newly acquired firearms, "It will do you no good once I've actually told you my plan."
Max rolled his eyes as Vera meticulously placed all the weapons inside a black duffel bag, which she threw over her shoulder and carried it without any effort. The Russian spy then walked away and beckoned Max along again.
With that, the couple could continue onward.
