-bigtitsinuniform Mackenzee Pierce -inglourious French Maids P -

Her hand, previously occupied with buttons, shot to the garter belt hidden beneath her skirt. She drew a Derringer, no bigger than a lipstick tube.

The shot was a soft phut . Von Hammer crumpled like a sack of flour, a surprised look on his face.

Mackenzee Pierce, known by her code name "The Duchess," was their secret weapon. Her Royal Air Force uniform, a crisp blue serge that strained magnificently across a chest that had made wing commanders forget their own flight plans, was her armor. Tonight, however, it lay folded in a laundry hamper. Tonight, she was in disguise.

Von Hammer’s smirk faltered. He was a disciplined officer, but he was also a man. His eye flicked down.

She slipped out the service entrance just as the first Allied bombs began to fall, the stolen microfilm safely nestled in the one place no Nazi officer had ever thought to pat down. The Inglourious French Maids had struck again, and the Duchess had proven that the greatest weapon of all wasn't a gun—it was the distraction of a perfectly tailored uniform.

Pop. The third.

"Don't mind me, boys," she said, the English accent now deliberately crisp. "Just a maid doing her… spring cleaning."