You have to pass as a high-class call girl. It's a hell of an assignment, and not one you'd normally undertake. Sadly, the Vice squad is fatally compromised with the high value of it's product and the inherent corruption that comes from both the money and the readily available sex.
Outside of your unit, you'll have no back-up, and simultaneously no potential traitors in the division. If you need out, there's a code word you need included in any testimony. An algorhythm will accept it's uniqueness to identify you as an undercover operative and alert your own station.
Their own blindness to your situation and location adds to the feeling of isolation and vulnerability. Emerging from the Corporeal Morpher, you take in your body. There is an air of refinement that's lacking from the more common street walkers, a confidence and contempt that you're above this work.
It's rather undercut by the extremity of your body.
In your pale blue bedazzled outfit you exude the disdain expected, the look that suggests you're disgusted by the sight of them and of the necessity of talking to someone so obviously beneath her attention.
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