Casino Royale, Nikke Edition
Task Force 141 had infiltrated all sorts of places in their time—enemy bases, fortified compounds, warzones—but a casino? That was a new one. And the fact that this casino was crawling with cartel and terrorist connections made it an even higher priority.
The mission was straightforward: Ghost would slip in and retrieve classified information from their servers, while the rest of the team handled distractions. But this time, the distractions weren't being handled by Soap, Gaz, or even the rookie Roach. No, the job had been volunteered—enthusiastically, might I add—by three Nikkes: Mary, the caring but surprisingly dangerous medic; Rupee, the livestream-obsessed shopping addict; and Blanc, the extroverted socialite who never met a spotlight she didn't love.
Captain Price pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about terrible ideas. They were deep in cartel territory, infiltrating a casino rumored to be the nerve center for a sprawling terrorist operation. The mission was straightforward: extract classified intel from the cartel's secure servers. What wasn't straightforward was how they were going about it.
Price looked at the group of Nikkes standing in front of him, each decked out in identical black bunny suits: sleek bodysuits, fishnet stockings, and high heels that somehow didn't impede their movement. He wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that the Nikkes had volunteered for this plan, or that it was actually working.
"Let me get this straight," Price grumbled. "You're walking into a casino full of cartel members dressed like… that."
Blanc, the white-haired extrovert, beamed at him, striking a playful pose. "It's called blending in, Captain. Besides, we look amazing. Right, Rupee?"
Rupee adjusted her cuffs and twirled, flashing a cheeky grin. "I'm livestreaming this after the mission. My followers are going to lose their minds!"
"Focus on the mission, Rupee," Price said, rubbing his temples. "And put that damn phone away."
Mary, the ever-proper medic, adjusted her glasses and tugged at her bodysuit, her face a mix of embarrassment and indignation. "For the record, I objected to this attire. But the team voted."
"You were outvoted three to one," Blanc chirped.
"Of course I was," Mary muttered, crossing her arms.
Soap, standing off to the side, couldn't tear his eyes away. "I mean, uh, it's tactical… right?"
Ghost smacked the back of Soap's head. "Eyes front, Johnny. Act professional."
"I am professional!" Soap protested, rubbing his head. "Just… observant."
Gaz snorted. "Observant, my arse."
Blanc leaned in toward Soap, grinning mischievously. "Enjoying the view, big guy?"
Soap turned red. "I'm not staring!"
"Sure you're not," Rupee teased, blowing him a kiss.
"Enough," Price barked. "You've got your cover. Keep the cartel distracted long enough for Ghost to extract the intel. No funny business."
"Funny business?" Blanc said with mock innocence. "Captain, we're the picture of professionalism."
Price shot her a look. "Just… get it done."
The neon lights of the casino glimmered like bait for moths in the night. Inside, the music was loud, the champagne flowed freely, and the air was thick with money, perfume, and danger. For Task Force 141, this was just another mission—except this time, it was far from "routine."
Captain Price stood in the surveillance van, arms crossed, staring at the monitor with a look of disbelief. "This," he growled, "is either the best or worst plan we've ever come up with."
Soap, leaning against the wall, nodded toward the monitor, where Rupee, Mary, and Blanc strutted across the casino floor. "Best, if you ask me."
"Eyes up, Johnny," Ghost grunted, his tone flat. "They're not here to put on a show."
Soap shot him a grin. "You saw the same thing I did, mate. This is practically a show."
Price pinched the bridge of his nose. "We could've sent anyone else, but no, the Nikkes insisted. And now we've got a medic, a shopaholic, and—"
"An influencer," Gaz added from the corner, smirking. "Don't forget that."
Ghost cut in, his voice sharp. "Focus. We're not here to judge their… attire."
That "attire" was impossible to ignore. Mary, Rupee, and Blanc were decked out in glittering bunny suits, complete with fishnet stockings, heels, and absurdly confident attitudes. Their outfits hugged every curve, sparkling under the chandelier light. For a casino packed with cartel members and international terrorists, it was the perfect distraction—and one hell of a morale boost for Soap.
On the casino floor, Rupee was in her element. She moved through the crowd like she owned the place, her arms linked with Blanc, who was chatting up a security guard. Mary followed behind, trying to keep the team from veering too far off course.
Rupee tilted her head, her golden hair catching the light. "Isn't this place just divine?" she said, her voice dripping with excitement. "The lights, the energy—it's so alive! Oh, I should livestream this!"
"No livestreams," Mary hissed, adjusting her oversized glasses. Even in a bunny suit, the medic somehow managed to look responsible. "This isn't a shopping mall."
Rupee pouted. "Fine, but I'm getting so many selfies after this. These heels deserve to be seen."
"Focus," Blanc chimed in, flipping her white hair over her shoulder. "We've got a job to do—and plenty of eyes on us."
She wasn't wrong. Every man within a ten-foot radius was blatantly staring. The girls didn't so much as flinch, though. They giggled, whispered to each other, and pretended to be just three gorgeous women out for a night of fun.
Soap's voice crackled in their earpieces. "Ladies, you're drawin' a crowd."
"Exactly the point, Johnny," Blanc said sweetly. "Now, if you're done staring, shouldn't you be helping Ghost?"
"I'M NOT STARIN'!" Soap shouted, his voice a little too defensive.
Rupee smirked. "Sure you're not, Soap. Sure."
Ghost's voice came next, calm and authoritative. "Keep them distracted. I'm almost at the server room."
Blanc turned her attention back to the security guard she'd been flirting with, running a finger along his tie. "You must work so hard here," she said, her voice soft and inviting. "Keeping everyone safe, keeping everything… secure."
The guard swallowed hard, his face red as a tomato. "Uh, y-yeah, something like that."
Blanc leaned in closer, her red eyes practically glowing. "I feel so much safer knowing you're here."
The guard's knees wobbled. He didn't even notice as Rupee reached into his back pocket and swiped his keycard.
"Got it," Rupee whispered, flashing the card to Mary, who gave her a thumbs-up.
Meanwhile, Ghost was in the server room, silently downloading gigabytes of classified information from the cartel's internal network. The progress bar ticked upward, painfully slow. He kept his ears open for any sign of trouble.
"Ghost, you almost done?" Price's voice came through the comms.
"Almost," Ghost muttered. "Tell the girls to keep the heat on them. I need another minute."
Back on the floor, Rupee had taken over as the star of the show, twirling under the lights and throwing dice at the craps table. "Oh my gosh, I'm on fire!" she squealed, drawing cheers from the gamblers around her.
Mary, meanwhile, had taken a quieter approach, sidling up to one of the cartel members at the bar. She sipped her drink, feigning interest as he bragged about his "business ventures."
"So," she said, tilting her head. "Does your job come with good benefits? Health insurance, maybe?"
The man laughed, leaning in closer. "Why, you need a doctor?"
"Something like that," Mary replied, her lips curving into a knowing smile.
Then, everything went sideways.
The security system tripped, alarms blaring through the casino. Ghost's voice came through the comms, calm but urgent. "They know we're here."
"What gave it away?" Soap said, already pulling his rifle from its case.
The cartel men snapped into action, drawing weapons and shouting orders. But before they could react, Blanc kicked the closest one in the chest, sending him sprawling. Her white heels barely wobbled as she flipped over the blackjack table, landing gracefully.
Rupee let out a mock gasp. "Oh no, we've been discovered! Guess we'll just have to fight our way out." She pulled a compact submachine gun from her bunny suit—God knows where she'd been hiding it—and opened fire, taking out two guards in a spray of precision shots.
Mary, ever composed, ducked behind the bar, pulling out a shotgun that looked comically large in her hands. She fired once, the blast knocking three cartel members to the ground.
Blanc turned toward Roach, who had just joined the fray, his face redder than usual. She winked at him, adjusting her outfit mid-battle. "Roach, does this outfit make me look fat?"
Roach froze, stammering. "N-no. Of course not!"
"Good answer," Blanc said, spinning on her heel and delivering a roundhouse kick to another guard.
By the time Ghost joined the fight, the casino was in chaos. The girls moved like a well-oiled machine, fighting through waves of armed men with heels and style. Ghost, ever the professional, couldn't help but admire their efficiency—even if their methods were… unconventional.
Rupee twirled like she was on a runway, her STL spitting bullets with every spin. "This is so going on my highlight reel!" she shouted.
Mary ducked under a hail of gunfire, calmly reloading her shotgun. "Try aiming next time," she muttered, firing a round that sent her attackers scrambling.
Blanc, meanwhile, was having the time of her life. She'd disarmed one man, taken his weapon, and was now dual-wielding pistols like an action movie star. "This is too easy!" she laughed, flipping over a craps table for cover.
The firefight continued as more guards poured into the room, but the girls showed no signs of slowing down. Blanc switched to a knife when her pistols ran dry, cutting through the enemy ranks with terrifying precision. Rupee kept the pressure on, her laughter echoing through the comms as she taunted the cartel members. And Mary, despite her earlier hesitations, fought with a quiet determination that was almost intimidating.
"Roach," Mary said again, her voice calm even as she reloaded. "You sure this outfit doesn't make me look fat?"
"Mary, not now," Roach groaned, ducking behind a pillar as bullets whizzed past him.
"Price, we've got the data," Ghost said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Exfil point?"
"Roof," Price replied. "Helicopter's on the way. Get moving."
The team fought their way to the rooftop, bullets flying and bodies hitting the ground. By the time they reached the exfil point, the helicopter was already there, its rotors kicking up a storm of wind and debris.
One by one, they climbed aboard, the girls still firing back at the cartel men below. As the helicopter lifted off, Soap leaned out, giving the casino a two-fingered salute.
"Thanks for the memories, lads!"
Rupee flopped into her seat, fanning herself dramatically. "Whew! That was a workout."
Mary smoothing her hair, her expression calm as ever. "I hope you're all up-to-date on your tetanus shots. Those bullets looked rusty."
Blanc leaned back, her pistols still in hand. "Another mission, another victory. Not bad for a bunch of girls in bunny suits, huh?"
Price sighed, lighting a cigar. "You lot are gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."
Ghost sat silently, reviewing the data on his tablet. "This is why I don't work with influencers." He muttered
As the helicopter disappeared into the night, the casino burned below them—a testament to the chaos they'd left behind.
And with that, the mission was over. Another successful—if unorthodox—operation in the books.
AN: Sorry if some of the scenes and action bits felt rushed in certain areas. I had to pump this one out fast before I leave for my busniess trip.