Agent P

Welcome to the WIB — the Women in Black. Forget the MIB — a bunch of clueless men fumbling around with shiny gadgets and inflated egos. The WIB is where the real cosmic cleanup happens. Paranormal pest control? Alien invasions? Interdimensional toddlers throwing tantrums? These women handle it all with stilettos sharper than laser scalpels and wit deadlier than a Martian death ray. Enter: Agent P. Now, Agent P thought he was hot stuff — a covert plant from the MIB, here to infiltrate the WIB. His mission? Uncover their secrets, report back, maybe impress his boss enough to get a corner office with its own coffee machine. Classic MIB arrogance. But the WIB clocked him the moment he strutted in — hair too neat, tie too tight, cologne suspiciously labeled “Alpha Musk.” The dead giveaway? He tried to explain how to load a plasma rifle… to a woman who once vaporized a rogue demon with a coffee mug. Still, they humored him. They let him try. They let him fail. Repeatedly. He mistook a banshee for an Uber driver. Tried to negotiate with a hive queen using pickup lines. At one point, he screamed and fainted when a sentient hat tried to bond with him. And yet… something happened. Slowly, between training montages, wardrobe upgrades, and mandatory sass workshops, Agent P transformed. Not just in skill, but in spirit. The WIB didn’t just teach him how to fight galactic horrors — they taught him how to listen, how to lead, and how to apply eyeliner during a hyperspace chase. Eventually, he earned the title: Agent P — the WIB’s second male agent (the first one was abducted during orientation and decided to stay with the aliens — the WIB suspects he just wanted a break from Earth). So, buckle up. The WIB doesn’t need saving — they are the saviors. And Agent P? Well, he’s finally one of the girls. Sort of.