Who told you the way? Who let you in here? the small fluffy pink creature barked at you. Her voice was surprisingly loud and her tone authoritative.

Hello? Anyone in there? she asked as she rapped your cranium sharply. Twice. In the time you took to ponder the incongruity of her innocent appearance and her army commander-like attitude, she had moved silently away from her parlour in the centre of the cramped room to the back of the armchair where you were hiding before she uncovered your hiding spot.

The creature begins a swift but thorough inspection of your person. She sniffs cautiously through your pockets, lifts the lapel of your jacket inquisitively and suspiciously (and quite rudely) goes through your belongings without permission. Finally, she seems to deem you worthy of her trust.

Sorry about that, she says, it's just basic procedure. You never know what people might be trying to smuggle in here... her voice trails off, her mind obviously wandering to far-off places. She gives her head an abrupt shake, jolting herself out of her daydream. The thick, sweet scent of roses fill the air - and you cough discreetly. Raising an eyebrow at your cough, she continues with her introduction. You can call me Iiryk. It's not my real name, but it'll do for now. When you live life like I do, it is wise not to give out one's real name so freely, she explains.

You raise your eyebrow, sceptical of what her job could possibly be. With her carefully applied makeup - winged eyeliner so perfect it looked stencilled on, and eyelashes so long and black they must have been artificially enhanced, the only occupation that seemed to suit her was perhaps a makeup artist. But she acted like she was in constant mortal danger -- and to the best of your knowledge, makeup artistry was not usually a dangerous career option. Iiryk seemed to sense the scepticism in your eyes, and although she gave a sigh of exasperation, she began to elaborate. You must have heard of me. I'm sort of... infamous. Maybe you know me by my alias, 300.

She smiled at your gasp of recognition. 300 - the most infamous spy around. She was an enigma; once an aspiring actress, she had gotten mixed up in some criminal matters, but the police had recognised her potential. The ease with which she created new personas, with watertight alibis and detailed backstories, was nothing short of genius. She was recruited immediately, and had joined the police force after a long hard year of training. She had never seen since. Of course, once people realised they had met the infamous agent, it was already too late -- the case closed, mystery solved, criminals caught and the agent herself seemed to disappear into thin air.

Y...You're the spy! you manage to splutter. She stares at you, her mouth hanging open, blinking angrily at you. Excuse me? Spy? she asks, spitting the word as if you had just offered her a dung jelly. I prefer the term master of espionage.

I suppose you're wondering about me...

So let's start with some basic stats, she suggests. She waves her arm in the general direction of the plush pink armchair as an invitation to sit. She perches herself on the messy coffee table in front of the chair, and slides a polaroid across the table towards you. At the back of the polaroid were messily scrawled statistics.

NAME: Iiryk300neo
OWNER: lovetriangles
AGE: 21 years old
LEVEL: 13
STRENGTH:15
MOVEMENT: 17
DEFENCE: 19
HEALTH: 21

Her young age was definitely a surprise considering her expertise in her career field. You never would have thought a girl at the tender age of 21, could gain so much notoreity as an infiltrator -- and being so successful that she had never been caught, not even once during her seven years on the job. It is strange that she always goes unrecognised, as she sports an eye-searingly bright coat of luscious pink fur. Surely no disguise could desaturate the colour of her coat?