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Description
made with Bing image creator

prompt: (works very poorly)

three young female spies two red haired with a gasmask and a blonde without a gas mask, green fog, photorealistic, submarine, the blonde have no mask, taking a selfie, wetsuit for diving, peace sign

Possible story:

In the heart of the sprawling Spy Academy, three remarkable women forged their destinies. Their names? **Scarlett**, the fiery redhead with a penchant for mischief; **Ruby**, her equally crimson-haired partner in crime; and **Amber**, the blonde beauty who could charm secrets out of stone walls.

Today's chemistry lesson had been electrifying. Professor Drake had unveiled a clandestine concoction—a knockout gas that could render even the most vigilant target unconscious. The three friends exchanged knowing glances, their minds already plotting mischievous schemes.

After school, they remained in their sleek black skintight bodysuits, crimson accents tracing their curves. The hallway lights flickered as they slipped into the shadows, their laughter echoing off the cold walls. The plan was simple: infiltrate the dorm room of their unsuspecting classmates and unleash the knockout gas. Mock them for the whole year.

The door swung open silently, and the trio stepped inside. The room smelled of sleep and dreams, the air thick with anticipation. Scarlett, Ruby, and Amber donned respirator masks, their eyes glinting with mischief. With a swift motion, Scarlett hurled the gas grenade into the center of the room.

Their classmates stirred, groggy and disoriented. Some tried to fight the drowsiness, blinking against the encroaching darkness. But the gas was relentless, wrapping its tendrils around their consciousness. One by one, they slumped to the floor, their limbs heavy and uncooperative.

The room now held only the three initiators and their fallen comrades. Scarlett's laughter bubbled up, contagious and wild. "Quick!" she whispered, pulling Ruby and Amber close. "Let's immortalize this moment."

They huddled together, the unconscious forms of their classmates sprawled behind them. Amber held up her phone, the camera poised for the perfect shot. The flash illuminated the room, capturing the chaos they'd sown.

But then, as they leaned in for the selfie, Scarlett's nostrils twitched. A strange scent hung in the air, cutting through the adrenaline haze. Panic surged within her. She glanced at her respirator mask, and horror struck like lightning.

Her filter was missing.

Desperation clawed at her throat. She tried to hold her breath, but her lungs rebelled. The room spun, and she saw it—the filter rolling across the floor like a wayward marble. She lunged, fingers outstretched, but Ruby and Amber held her back, their eyes dancing with mischief.

"Gotcha!" Ruby crowed, Scarlett relized that they uncrewed her filter. Amber doubled over, laughter escaping in silent bursts. Scarlett's vision blurred as she gasped for air, the unfiltered gas seeping into her lungs.

And then, as darkness closed in, she heard the click of Amber's camera. The final snapshot—a triumphant selfie with Scarlett, half-conscious and betrayed, framed by her unwitting classmates.

Description
made with Bing image creator

prompt: (works very poorly)

three young female spies two red haired with a gasmask and a blonde without a gas mask, green fog, photorealistic, submarine, the blonde have no mask, taking a selfie, wetsuit for diving, peace sign

Possible story:

In the heart of the sprawling Spy Academy, three remarkable women forged their destinies. Their names? **Scarlett**, the fiery redhead with a penchant for mischief; **Ruby**, her equally crimson-haired partner in crime; and **Amber**, the blonde beauty who could charm secrets out of stone walls.

Today's chemistry lesson had been electrifying. Professor Drake had unveiled a clandestine concoction—a knockout gas that could render even the most vigilant target unconscious. The three friends exchanged knowing glances, their minds already plotting mischievous schemes.

After school, they remained in their sleek black skintight bodysuits, crimson accents tracing their curves. The hallway lights flickered as they slipped into the shadows, their laughter echoing off the cold walls. The plan was simple: infiltrate the dorm room of their unsuspecting classmates and unleash the knockout gas. Mock them for the whole year.

The door swung open silently, and the trio stepped inside. The room smelled of sleep and dreams, the air thick with anticipation. Scarlett, Ruby, and Amber donned respirator masks, their eyes glinting with mischief. With a swift motion, Scarlett hurled the gas grenade into the center of the room.

Their classmates stirred, groggy and disoriented. Some tried to fight the drowsiness, blinking against the encroaching darkness. But the gas was relentless, wrapping its tendrils around their consciousness. One by one, they slumped to the floor, their limbs heavy and uncooperative.

The room now held only the three initiators and their fallen comrades. Scarlett's laughter bubbled up, contagious and wild. "Quick!" she whispered, pulling Ruby and Amber close. "Let's immortalize this moment."

They huddled together, the unconscious forms of their classmates sprawled behind them. Amber held up her phone, the camera poised for the perfect shot. The flash illuminated the room, capturing the chaos they'd sown.

But then, as they leaned in for the selfie, Scarlett's nostrils twitched. A strange scent hung in the air, cutting through the adrenaline haze. Panic surged within her. She glanced at her respirator mask, and horror struck like lightning.

Her filter was missing.

Desperation clawed at her throat. She tried to hold her breath, but her lungs rebelled. The room spun, and she saw it—the filter rolling across the floor like a wayward marble. She lunged, fingers outstretched, but Ruby and Amber held her back, their eyes dancing with mischief.

"Gotcha!" Ruby crowed, Scarlett relized that they uncrewed her filter. Amber doubled over, laughter escaping in silent bursts. Scarlett's vision blurred as she gasped for air, the unfiltered gas seeping into her lungs.

And then, as darkness closed in, she heard the click of Amber's camera. The final snapshot—a triumphant selfie with Scarlett, half-conscious and betrayed, framed by her unwitting classmates.