Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sunday, November 4th, 1962

“Unkie. I need help with math.”

Yuri was exasperated. Why had he agreed to babysit his niece all day? It’s his day off (not that he had any choice in the matter, Chloe had forced him to take the day off—damn you Chloe!) and here he is, spending it with his little gremlin of a niece. He loved her, because she was Yor’s daughter, but…
Surely she’s old enough to watch herself, she’s fourteen for God’s sake! Back when I was her age, I was already going off to college, to make the world a better place for Yor.
“Not now. I’m thinking.”

Right. Because Sis asked him to. His beautiful gracious sister needed his assistance and how could he deny Yor aid when she needed it most. Although, it was her pathetic husband Loidy who had asked in her stead, saying that Yor would be so happy if he could lend a hand for the day. How dare he take advantage of his only weakness!

It’s been eight years since that suspiciously perfect blond came into his life and announced that he’d been married to Sis for a year. At first, Yuri thought there was no way Loidy could be good enough for his sister. Sweet, sweet Yor. Such an innocent soul, too good for this world. There is no man alive who is good enough for her. But over time, Yuri had begun to realize that despite Yor’s perfection, her grace, her lovely soul; the man she had found? Loid Forger? He’s too good for his sister. He’s too perfect, too handsome, too competent. It’s too good to be true. Which can mean only one thing:
It isn’t true; “Loid Forger” is a spy.

Of course, Yuri is not an easy man to fool. He’s suspected Loidy time and time again. He appeared out of nowhere. He’s friends with way too many powerful people despite being a nobody. He’s never once spoken of his previous wife, the supposed mother of his own daughter. It’s like he didn’t know her—just adopted the girl for his cover. He got injured the same time that Twilight did, in the same places.
All the signs are there!

However… every single time Yuri got close to exposing him, it just didn’t work out. Something or someone (usually Chihuahua Girl) would get in his way, and maybe even push away his suspicions. That went on for years, until Yuri stopped suspecting him. Yuri believed that Loidy was—somehow—a genuine man. He would even go so far as to say he trusted the man—okay, maybe not that far, but still. Sure, he had been suspicious at first, but Yuri could accept that he might have let his feelings get in the way and cloud his judgement. Just because he married Yor didn’t mean he was a spy. How could the man his precious sister fell in love with be a spy? That’s ridiculous!

But then… it happened. Yuri remembered the day like it was yesterday—because it was.

Saturday, November 3rd, 1962

“Happy birthday, Chihuahua Girl!”
Yuri pushed open the door to his sister’s apartment with a smile.
Not that it’s actually her birthday. Loidy was so busy with his work on Wednesday that he couldn’t celebrate his own daughter’s birthday! What a deadbeat father. Yor would never.

“Anya’s not home, but it’s a pleasure to see you,” Loidy—elbows deep in a bowl of frosting—spoke with narrowed eyes which suggested he absolutely did not find Yuri’s presence a pleasure. 

Yuri frowned. “Likewise.”

“I’m afraid that you’re quite early if you’re here to visit Yor—she’s out buying the cake. And if you’re here for Anya, she’s at the Blackbells while we get things set up for the party.”

“Sis is almost here, though. I smelled her on the way here!”

Loidy didn’t have anything to say to that, so he didn’t. He just poured the frosting into a bag to dispense onto the cake—once it arrived.

Speaking of…
“Honey, I’m home–Hey Yuri!”
Yor walked in with a large cake in her arms, which she quickly tossed—and Loidy caught effortlessly—in order to give Yuri a hug.

“Sis! I missed you so much, I haven’t seen you since–”

“Yesterday, yes. I missed you too, Yuri.”
Yor ducked out of the hug and crept over to her husband, giving him a kiss (to Yuri’s mild disgust).

This brought his attention to what Loidy was doing. Squeezing the pink frosting onto the cake with near surgical precision. What got Yuri’s attention was the way he did it—with his left hand.

Loidy’s… writing in frosting with his left hand? Who in their right mind does that?!

Yuri’s confusion increased further as he read out the message Loidy had put on the cake. Not a “Happy Birthday” or something of the sort, no. Rather, it was…

“I apologize for canceling your party earlier this week because of work. Don’t take offense, I promise you’re always the center of my attention. Here’s a peanut flavored cake to symbolize how much you mean to me. Happy birthday to my favorite daughter, Anya.”

Very long winded. More the kind of thing you’d find on a birthday card than a cake. Nonetheless, it was very impressive to have fit on a cake—but that was normal; Loidy always tried too hard on everything. What caught Yuri’s attention was his spelling.

Loidy, ever the perfectionist, misspelled seven words.

Apologize. Canceling. Offense. Center. Flavored. Symbolize. Favorite.
The correct spellings would be…
Apologise. Cancelling. Offence. Centre. Flavoured. Symbolise. Favourite.

Alarm bells ran in Yuri’s mind, but he kept his outward appearance calm. He knew those spellings.

There was another language that was very similar to Ostanian, but spelled their words incorrectly. -IZE instead of -ISE. -OR instead of -OUR. -SE instead of -CE. -ER instead of -RE. A language that used one L instead of two, when they were followed by a suffix. A language whose speakers continued to use the wrong spellings, even if they were writing in another.

A language that Yuri knew all too well from his work.

Westalian.

Sunday, November 4th, 1962

It was clear now. With how he used his left hand—only in the West do they allow such barbarism—and how he spelled words, Loidy was Westalian. That could mean one thing and one thing only:
He’s a spy.

No wonder he’s so perfect all the time.
Unfortunately for Yuri, Loidy’s perfectionism extended to his work. Not once did his psychiatrist facade ever crack, so there was no evidence of his malicious deeds—that were definitely happening!—to submit to his superiors. 

…Which leads to the second reason Yuri agreed to babysit his niece: he’s alone in Loidy’s apartment all day. Perfect chance to find out what he’s hiding.

“UNKIEEEEEEEE!!! COME HELP ME!”

He ignored her, electing to sweep the apartment for bugs.
If Forger is a spy, then he would obviously want to keep tabs on his daughter while she was alone with an officer of the State Security Service. I bet Anya isn’t even his daughter! Has she been dragged along for cover just like Yor was? No, wait, if she’s adopted then she would know, so she’s either Loidy’s kid or she’s complicit in his lies. Maybe both!

Slow down, that’s ridiculous. She’s a kid. She probably doesn’t even remember being adopted, thinks Loidy is her dad through and through. Yuri can’t help but feel bad for the girl. Being raised by a spy? Rough. At least now she gets to be raised by Yor, sweet, perfect, kind, caring, Yor–
Only, there’s a slight issue with proving that “Loid Forger” is a spy. The apartment appears completely normal. No bugs, no hidden weapons, no secret lines of communication, nothing.

I’ll need to check his study. Why does a psychiatrist even need a home office?
Reaching out to open the door, Yuri is startled by a tap on his back. His niece. His sweet, precious, adorable niece, raised by his amazing, beautiful, ethereal sister.
“What do you want, you Chihuahua?”

“Uhhmm–are you a maid?”

Odd question. And why does she look so panicked?
“Of course not. Why would I want to clean Loidy’s place?”

“Well, you’re wandering around, looking for dirt.”

Huh? What kind of joke is that?
“...Not sure I follow.”

“You know, you’re not very subtle.”

What? Yuri raises his eyebrow.
“Go on.”

“You think Papa is a spy. You’re trying to find evidence.”

Yuri’s eyes widened.
She’s always been eerily perceptive, but this is on an entirely different level. How did she even know that's what I was doing—it’s like she sees right through me!

“You’re crazy. Why would I think he’s a spy? He’s my family!”

“You’re with the secret police! You want to get rid of Papa to keep Mama safe. But you’re wrong! Papa isn’t a spy!”

Dumbfounded, Yuri tries (unsuccessfully) to figure out how she could know about his true job.
“Now listen here Chihuah–”

“NO! YOU listen to ME! PAPA ISN’T A SPY. Because… uhm… I… I AM!”

…Huh?
“What?”

“I SAID. I’M A SPY. NOT PAPA. HE AND MAMA ARE JUST MY COVER.”

“Shut up! I heard you the first time.”
All of Yuri’s love for his niece was gone in an instant. Left in its place were unending questions.

She’s a spy? A fucking spy? WISE really has a kid as a spy? When was she recruited? Does Yor know? Does Loidy know? What’s her mission? Who is her target? Is she using me to spy on the SSS? Is she spying on her crazy rich friends at Eden? Their parents? I hate her.

But most importantly:
How dare this filthy spy use my precious sister as a cover!
In his utter bewilderment, Yuri failed to notice that an incredibly panicked Anya—is that even her real name?—had slipped into Loidy’s office and locked the door.
“Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re going!” Yuri exclaims, pounding on the door.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

She’s good at appearing calm despite panic, if nothing else. I need to get formal.
“Anya Forger, you are being detained on suspicion of espionage.”

“How is it suspicion of espionage if I already admitted to it?”

Does she not understand the gravity of the situation? The harm she’s perpetrating on my sister, the betrayal she’s committed against our country, the fraud she’s been pulling off for so long, she could be executed for this! Or does she just have nerves of steel?
“Listen Chihuahua, you better open this door or I’ll be breaking it down.”

“You know, Mama won’t be happy if she finds out that you trashed our apartment!”

“Get my sister’s name out of your fucking mouth, you dirty spy! Sis won’t be happy to find out that she’s raised an enemy of the state!”

“Glad we can agree on that. Do you really want her to be devastated when she finds out that her precious daughter was a spy?”

“The truth can hurt, 'Anya'! You know it as well as I do. But Yor will get over it. Now open the damn door!”

“You know, Unkie,”—“I’M NOT YOUR UNKIE”—”if the secret police find out that Anya Forger is a spy, that’ll make them suspicious of Mama! You’re putting Mama in danger!”

I work for them, I can vouch for her.
“I said, get my sister’s name out of your traitorous mouth!”

“And it'll make you suspicious too!”

“Not if I’m the one to bring you in.”

“And when Anya Forger escapes? Who do you think will be blamed for helping her? Her super-awesome spy skills? Or her uncle?”

People don’t just escape from the SSS, but does she actually have a point? I can’t underestimate her. Who knows what this child is capable of. She’s been a spy near my perfect sis, tricking even her for almost a decade. There's no way I can let her go free.
“You aren’t talking your way out of this, ‘Anya’. Open up or I break it down.”

“Can we make a deal? I want the best for Mama and Papa too. Spies aren’t supposed to form attachments, but I’d have to be pretty heartless to not care about my parents after so long with them.”

What a monster, trying to appeal to my love for Sis. To think she’d stoop so low.
“I can’t compromise with spies. They’re the worst of the worst. Scum.”

“I’m just asking that you don’t arrest Anya Forger.”

Yuri is startled by the door to Loidy’s office suddenly bursting open, revealing his niece standing there with… is that blonde hair? And brown eyes?
Was her unnaturally pink hair a wig she’s worn her entire life to throw off her parents? What a horrible little rat.

“Instead… arrest Agent Starlight.”

Well… I can work with that.

If WISE has a habit of employing children as spies, we need to invest in smaller handcuffs. She could probably slip out of these if she wanted. We cannot afford to be sloppy with spies of any size.

“Our neighbors are really nosy, can’t you take these off until we’re out of their sight?”

“And have you run away? You aren’t 'Anya', they won’t recognize you.”

“It was worth a shot.” She pouted.

I thought Anya Forger was annoying, didn’t realize Starlight was toning it down for that persona.

“Heh.”

“Why are you smirking? You’re in big trouble. And you have until we get to HQ to tell me anything you’d like to say that pertains to the Forgers. Say enough, and I might convince them to go easy on you, you cockroach.”
To think this little shit managed to convince me to conceal her civilian identity. Hmph. This is for Yor’s sake. Nothing more.

Conducting an interrogation while driving is…challenging, to say the least. Not that Yuri Briar can’t handle a vehicular investigation, but the subject being the snarkiest kid alive definitely isn’t helping.
She’s managing to make me feel bad even for Loidy (just a little). Scratch getting raised by a spy, raising a spy has got to be even worse.
“What is your mission? Why are you stationed at Eden College?”

“For World Peace!”

Yuri just put on his best “unimpressed face” through the rear view mirror.
“Elaborate.”

“I’m supposed to get close to Sy-on Boy! Be his friend, stay around him all the time. When the higher-ups get wind of an assassination attempt on him, I’m the agent best in place to protect him. We call it Operation Sticks!”

Sticks? That rang a bell, no wait… Strix! Some mission WISE had going on involving an infiltration into Eden College.
But…
“Who the hell is Sy-on Boy?”

“Oh. Right. Forgot you don’t know that part. Damian. Damian Desmond!”

If Yuri had been drinking something, he would have spat it out.
“Why does WISE care about what happens to him? Donovan Desmond hates the West, that’s the biggest part of his platform. I think you’re lying. You’re getting near the Desmonds for intel, not to protect them.”

“It’s for protection, I swear! Donovan hates us! If his son was murdered, he’d blame it on us. Then he’d use his grief to start a war and we would all suffer! So I make sure nothing happens to Damian. That’s what WISE is all about! We serve peace, not the government.”

“Just how frequent are these assassination attempts, to warrant an agent stationed full time? Who in their right mind would even try to go after the Chairman’s son?”

“It’s either enemies of the Desmond Group, terrorists wanting to start a war, or Desmond himself. He doesn’t really care about Sy-on at all, he’d happily get rid of him and use his death to start a war.”

If Yuri hadn’t spat out his nonexistent beverage earlier, he definitely did now.
What the fuck?

“Oh, and don’t let him know. Sy-on looks up to his dad so much, it’s kinda sad. If he knew how much his papa really hated him, he’d be devastated.”

What? Wanting to kill your son is messed up, but when your son adores you?
No Yuri, no. She’s a spy. She’s a liar by trade. Don’t trust a word she says.
“Is preventing assassinations really worth infiltrating Eden College of all places? You find out about them before they happen, right? Couldn’t WISE just eliminate the suspects rather than let them get so close to their target?”

“Can’t get intel from a dead suspect, or from one who chickens out. With no visible defense, they get overconfident, and then it’s easy to capture them and find out who hired them. Better to put a stop to the assassinations at their source, than to play whack-a-mole for the rest of his life.”

I hate to admit that she’s making a good point. WISE’s child spies are downright terrifying. But still…

“Unkie. It’s not too late y’know… you could turn around, pretend this never happened. If you get rid of me, there will be nobody to stop Desmond from using his son to start a war. Is that what you really want?”

“I’m not your damn ‘Unkie’. It is too late, you’re a snitch, I can’t let you free, especially near my sister. I’ve already called HQ to let them know I’ve found a spy. Regardless, if you’re compromised, we can just find some other way to stop his assassinations. Getting you out of the way won’t start a war, it’ll just remove a western spy, one who’s infiltrated way too far into Ostania’s upper class. I mean really, you’re friends with all the kids of the most powerful people in the nation! I bet they just blatantly offer intel up to you on a silver platter, not even knowing they’re helping a spy. You’re despicable. Disgusting. Backstabbing my sister. I doubt you even care about your so-called friends and family!”

If Yuri Briar had noticed that Agent Starlight’s eyes began to water at what he said, he made no mention of it.

Chapter Text

Sunday, November 4th, 1962

Like any other job, being a lieutenant at the State Security Service has its ups and downs. And for Lieutenant Scarface (with how often his coworkers call him that, it may as well be his name), one of the biggest gripes with his job is just how rarely they’re able to actually catch a spy alive. At best, they can catch an informant.

So imagine his surprise when Second Lieutenant Yuri Briar calls him saying that he’s apprehended Agent Starlight of WISE and is bringing her in right now. 

Didn’t Yuri have the day off? That kid wouldn’t know the concept of rest if it slapped his sister in the face.

At least today will be eventful. 

“Scarface, you’re the ‘good cop’. I’ll be the ‘bad cop’. Chapman, you’ll be transcribing.”

Trust Gascoigne to give Chloe that job. No matter how good she is, he’ll never see her as anything more than eye candy around HQ. I’m glad that at least she has Yuri to look out for her.

“Hey, open the door? My hands are full with this brat.”

Speak of the devil.

“Hey! I’m not a brat!”

Agent Starlight’s voice is surprisingly–

Chloe opens the door, and freezes as Yuri drags her in. Scarface can’t blame her.

…she’s just a kid.
Starlight is a kid?
Yuri arrested a kid?
Is he insane?

“Don’t underestimate this little devil. She’s a slippery gremlin.” Yuri says, shoving her into the chair.

The girl is blonde, her hair going to her shoulders. Sitting in the harsh light of the overhead lamp, in a chair far too big for her, sits WISE’s Agent Starlight.
About four foot six. Brown eyes. Missing a front tooth.
She’s quite young, perhaps eleven? twelve?
With the way she holds her hands, she’s likely ambidextrous.

“Hey, would it hurt you to be a little more gentle?” Starlight snaps as she snarkily turns her head to Yuri. 

“Hey, would it hurt you to be a little less of a bitch?”

“You know better than to swear around a kid!”

“You know better than to commit treason!”

“Well you kno–”

Yuri slapped her.

“Ow.”

If I don’t stop these two, they’ll just bicker and we won’t get any real intel. She must have nerves of steel to argue with us so brazenly. Most suspects crumble at the mere sight of me, let alone Gascoigne. Does she not realize how bad things are for her? We haven’t caught a full-fledged WISE spy alive in years, he isn’t going to go easy on her in the slightest.
“Okay Yuri, we’ll take it from here.”

“Not so fast.”

Yuri, Chloe, Scarface, and Starlight all turn to Gascoigne as he finally speaks up.

“Yes Captain?” Yuri lets out nervously.

“Where’s her base of operations? What’s her civilian identity?”

“I’m sorry Captain, but I don’t know.”

“What? You didn’t tail her and then arrest her?”

“Oh, I… uh–”

Starlight interjected, “I knew Briar was following me. Why would I lead him anywhere useful? I think he got tired of being led in circles.”

Why would she stick up for him?

“You let a target know they were being followed? Just how incompetent are you, Briar?”

“Sir, I did everything exactly as I was supposed to. She’s too damn good. I wouldn’t be surprised if Twilight himself trained her.”

Lieutenant Scarface did not fail to notice how Starlight flinched at that comment.
Is she actually Twilight’s protege?

“We’ll discuss this failure later. Briar, you’re dismissed. Scarface, let’s begin.”

“Yes, sir.” Yuri nods, before leaving the four alone in the interrogation room.

Gascoigne didn’t waste a second.
“How do you know Briar’s name?”

“I’m a spy!” Starlight confidently replied, as if she didn’t just confess to treason. Then, she slipped one hand out of the handcuffs, brought her hands in front of her, and…made finger guns? “Knowing things is my jam!”

Silence.
Scarface dropped his cigarette. Chloe, her pen.
Forget nerves of steel, she has nerves of tungsten.

Gascoigne was unimpressed, shooting her a look that could kill, before slapping the handcuff back on her wrist. “I asked how you know, not why, you pipsqueak.”

Starlight finally had the sense to realize that she should be at least a little nervous in the face of Gascoigne. “Oh, yeahhh uhh. Sorry. He’s pretty notorious with WISE, shooting Twilight and all.”

“Oh yeah, Twilight. You know him?” C’mon kid, give us something and I can stop him from hurting you too bad.

"Well of course I know him, he was my mentor!"

Well that was easy.

"What does his face look like?" Gascoigne followed.

"Pfft, you think he ever let any of us see it? He was far too secretive for that. Every time I saw him he had a completely different persona!"

Well, there goes her nervousness. Along with any use in that department.

Gascoigne frowned sharply.
"Do you seriously expect us to believe this man trained you and yet you've never seen his face?"

"Well yeah, I mean, the point is so no one can give up his identity. Why do you think Wheeler couldn’t provide you with his face? We limit how much information our agents have so we’re safe in case we get attacked by telepathic aliens!”

Scarface was straight up dumbfounded. Telepathic aliens? Who in the world would believe in telepathic aliens? This is one of the worst lies he’s heard in the interrogation room, yet she sounded… completely serious?
Do I chalk this up to childhood imagination? Or are telepathic aliens an actual threat that WISE considers?

Gascoigne clearly did not consider telepathy a threat.
“WISE actually believes in that bullshit? Telepathy isn’t real.”

Once again, Scarface did not miss the way Starlight flinched. He’s not the best interrogator in the State Security Service for nothing.
Maybe telepathy is actually a thing? Does WISE know something we don’t?

“I wish, it’d be so cool if they did. They’re no fun.”

Interrogating kids is surprisingly hard, at least this one is. She keeps taking us on random tangents. I need to get this interrogation back on track.
"What does Twilight’s voice sound like?"

"Don’t remember." Starlight’s face is completely deadpan.

Huh?

Gascoigne isn’t phased.
“How can you not remember? How long has it been since you last worked with him?"

"Oh, he died a while back, y’know, when Briar shot him? At Shellsbury?” 

Chloe dropped her pen again.

“As I said, he’s notorious for it. No one had ever shot him before so he was totally unprepared and the infection did him in."

Gascoigne is phased for the first time in this interview. "We have reports of activity from Twilight up to last week. You're lying."

"Nuh uh. You’re coping.” 

Yep. Nerves of tungsten.

“Anyway, that’s the first I've heard of any recent Twilight activity. I guess some poser is trying to pick up his name for clout. Wait, how do you know what spy does what?"

Chloe pipes in: “Well, only Twilight can do a perfect impersonation of someone like what we’ve seen.”

Gascoigne’s annoyance only grows. “Chapman. Don’t answer her questions, she is the one being interrogated, not us.” 

Starlight takes her shot at asking more questions.
“What’s your address? Your wife’s name? Your secret evil bad guy plans?” 

“I’M CONDUCTING THIS INTERROGATION, STOP ASKING QUESTIONS!” 

Is she trying to rile him up? It’s working. I need to get this interview back on track. Again.
“If Twilight’s dead, then who’s been doing those impersonations?”

“How am I supposed to know who you’re talking about? That's literally like the most basic training we have. It could’ve been any of us!”

Everyone was dumbfounded. “Huh?”
All WISE agents can mimic like that? Just what are we up against? 

Gascoigne seems to have finally caught up with the implications of what she had said earlier.
“Hold on, you said he died in the Wheeler op? That was ages ago. You're like twelve.”

"I’m thirteen!”

All three SSS agents speak at the same time.
“Close enough”—“Shut up Chapman”—“Then how long have you been a spy?"

“Uhhh, since I was like five? I think? It's kind of hard to remember honestly, been so long and all."

What the fuck? WISE is insane, why did they make a toddler a spy?

"Cuz no one ever suspects a kid."

"I didn't say anything."
It’s like she could read my mind. No, it’s just a coincidence. I’m letting her mention of telepathy get to him. Trust Agent Starlight to make the interrogators doubt their own sanity while they work on her. She’s a master at this. She probably let herself get captured.

“Your face showed me everything I needed to know.”

Forget about telepathy, WISE just trains their agents too damn well. She’s running circles around us in our own interrogation. No wonder she was so smug going into this.

Gascoigne is trying to maintain a straight face despite his obvious fury.
"I thought they'd have trained you to shut up. Instead, you're answering questions we’re not even asking. Didn't know the West had such bad spies."

“Heh.” Starlight smirked.

“Huh? Why are you smiling so weirdly?” 

If Twilight was the master of disguise, Starlight must be the master of annoyance. Gascoigne looks like he’s this close to ending the interrogation just so that he won’t have to deal with her anymore.

As if to further annoy him, Starlight mimes bringing her hands to her lips and zipping them shut, before throwing an imaginary key in the corner. To which he responds by slamming his fists onto her hands. Chloe winces. Starlight seems… more angry than hurt.
“YOU MEANIE! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!”

“Answer me. What’s so funny?”

“My mama told me that if someone’s just being mean, a cool girl laughs it off! A smile is the strongest weapon. It stops a fight before it starts!”, Starlight says with clear admiration in her eyes.

“Your mother?” I’d have thought a child spy wouldn’t have any parents. “Is she a spy too?”

Gascoigne is equally surprised, but questions her regardless. “What is her cover identity? What does she do? What is her codename?”

Starlight seems more confused than anything. “Mama’s a civilian, she’s just my cover. Unless you mean Mom? I don’t really remember her, the Whitecoats got rid of her.”

Whitecoats?

Gascoigne is just as confused. “The what?”

“The bad guys with the white coats. They put sticky things with wires on me, and injected me with needles. Shocked me. Made me study all day every day, the food was horrible. Scary bad guys. They wouldn’t let us leave. They…” Starlight began to cry for the first time in the interrogation, the tears falling without end. “Th–they murderlated Mommy when she stopped giving them more test subjects! P–Project Apple!”

That was the moment when Scarface felt the floor drop out from under him.
“Project Apple? You’re from Project Apple?”

The spy nodded.
“I escaped when I was four. I was wandering the streets of Berlint until the nice spy people from Westalis found me and promised to give me a good life and beat the Whitecoats if I helped them with world peace!”

It’s hard to blame her loyalty to the West if Ostania was this cruel to her and her mother. Hold on, she’s thirteen. Project Apple was shut down twenty years ago. Did the experiments continue without authorization past that point?
Scarface was furious.

Wait.
A child spy should be a liability. But if she’s a former test subject… they must have done something to make her more useful than the average child, to warrant her use by WISE.
Talking about telepathic aliens. Saying what was on his mind. Being so confident in this interrogation, even though she can’t hold a poker face to save her life.
The growing panic on Starlight’s face confirmed his thoughts.
You’re telepathic.

Scarface’s revelation was interrupted by Gascoigne blaring his typical patriotism about how Ostania can do no harm.
“So? Project Apple was a noble research initiative, for the good of Ostania! By siding with the West to destroy it, you’ve committed treason. To put it in words your childish brain can understand, you’re in big trouble.”

Scarface paid him no mind, and Starlight was too petrified to pay any attention to him either.
Your secret is safe with me. Human experimentation is vile.
Let’s move this interrogation into my head. Tap a finger on the table gently, left hand for yes, right hand for no. Work with you?

Starlight’s left hand taps. Gascoigne kept talking, although no one in the room was listening. Maybe Chloe, but she had probably tuned him out too.

Do you know who funded it?

Her left hand taps again. Yes.
Wait, she’s tapping it more. Morse code.

-.
..-
.--.
N-U-P

National Unity Party? This just got deep. Most people in the SSS love Desmond. Is Chloe as mad about this as I am?

Left hand tap. Yes.

Would you work with us against WISE if we help you take down Apple?

Right hand tap. Dammit. 

C’mon kid. You owe the West nothing, just tell us what you know and you’ll have my support.

Starlight kept tapping.

...
...
...

.-
.--.
.-..
.

S-S-S
A-P-L-E

Are you saying the SSS is in on it?

Left hand tap.

A flicker of rage passed across the typically emotionless scarred face.
I know a liar when I see one, but I’m ninety-five percent sure she’s telling the truth.
…The hell do I do?

Gascoigne simply watched the intense staring contest going on between Starlight and Scarface, all in all, rather confused. Eventually, Starlight broke it.
“How can I be in trouble if you don’t know who I am?”

“You’re going to tell us your civilian identity.”

“Nuh uh.”

You’re playing a dangerous game, Starlight.
Gascoigne picks up a pair of pliers and holds them to the spy’s fingernail. 

“Yes, you will.”

Starlight visibly steels her resolve, and Scarface can’t help but admire her for it.
The subsequent sound of ripping fingernails and a crying child will haunt his sleep.

Chapter Text

Sunday, November 4th, 1962

In her thirteen years as an esper, Anastasia Amelia Forger has learned that there are four types of people:

People like her Papa, who are always thinking, but rarely talking.
People like Becky, who are always thinking and always talking.
People like her Mama, who are rarely thinking and rarely talking.
People like Evelyn and Emile, who are rarely thinking and yet always talking.
That last type is the most dangerous type.

Today, Anya has run into all four types, each in the form of an SSS officer.

First, there is officer Chloe Chapman. Strong but silent (mostly because she knows she won’t be listened to even if she speaks) with a mind running faster than Scruffy’s driving.

Secondly, Second Lieutenant Yuri Briar. Mind and mouth never shut up about his sister.

Thirdly, Lieutenant Louis “Scarface” Reale. Does his mind always run slow, or is this just because he knows he’s in the presence of a telepath?

Finally, Captain Giacomo Gascoigne. Lacks a filter. The words leave his mouth before they reach his brain. No need to read his mind, he’ll say it anyway.

Speaking of saying things without thinking them through, Anya is starting to regret saying that she’s a spy—but it’s too late to back out now. And now, not only has she found herself in the custody of the secret police, but she was careless even then.

In my whole life, no one’s caught on. No one knows except Sy-on Boy, and that’s because I told him. Mr. Scarface here figured it out with just a glance…
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Papa’s psychology books that he’s always reading say that a good strategy to manage pain is to scream, but she doesn't want to let them win. Plus, did they account for the loss of your fingernails?
It’s for world peace. It’s for world peace. It’s for world peace. It’s for world peace.
I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
Anya would kill for some aspirin right now.

Pull yourself together, Anya!
I've been through worse.
Psychic powers weren't all I got out of it; I’ve got a pain tolerance beyond anything these guys can throw at me. The lab was a hell this place cannot begin to compare to.
The electrocutions hurt more. The conscious brain surgery hurt more.
The injections burned, they messed up my brain so badly; as opposed to the so-called “truth serum” here which isn’t doing a thing.
The restraints were tighter, less forgiving. The sterile smell of disinfectant was worse than this musty cigarette smell. That “nutrient dense" carrot slop they forced down my throat was worse than whatever they'll serve me here, including nothing.
The 007 that the whitecoats put on my neck won’t go away, but my bones will heal and my fingernails will regrow. The whitecoats got rid of my family, that was permanent, but the SSS will only be able to do that if I crack. Mama and Papa are okay.
You've got this, Anya. 

“What is your mission? Why are you in Berlint?”
Oh yeah, the Gas-Coin guy is still here. 

“My mission? Operation Scarlet Salmon! It’s to infiltrate the library! I need to get a book!”

“What kind of name is that? Scarlet Salmon? You mean a red herring? Bullshit. But I’ll humor you. What book is worth so much to WISE?”
“Is she straight up telling us this is a red herring? Why would she do that? Then we wouldn’t believe a thing she says… Oh… She wants us to believe that this is a red herring, when she’ll actually be spewing the truth. Nice try, Starlight, but your reverse psychology won't work on us.”

Anya smiled as Gas-Coin’s thoughts led him to exactly the place she wanted him to go.
You’ve got this, Anya. Show them what Starlight is made of.
Sass.
“It’s called How to Torture for Dummies.” Anya grinned. “I think it tells you how to make a truth serum that actually works! Top notch stuff, the best of the best. Really gets people talking—unlike whatever you’re using.”

A vein in Gas-Coin’s forehead bulged in anger. Grabbing the bloody pliers, he quickly slammed them onto both of Anya’s thumbs, breaking them.

Anya let out a yelp and teared up.
If I pretend it doesn’t affect me, they might just keep going with worse techniques. Maybe if they think this works they’ll back off?
Or… I could keep taunting him.
“You know, I’m beginning to think you don’t like me, Mr. Gas-Coin.”

He scowled at the nickname.
“Right on the money.”

Anya stared at him.
Gas-Coin stared back.
Scarface let out a sigh.
Yuri stubbed his toe down the hall, cursing loudly.
Chloe sneezed.

Gas-Coin was impatient.
“Fine, we’ll get back to that. What is Sylvia Sherwood’s role in WISE?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Scarface, go get a picture of Sherwood. Jog this brat’s memory.”

Anya lamented the loss of the stern but respectable man, although she was struggling to understand why he wouldn’t stop Gas-Coin if he hated Project Apple.
He’s not a bad guy, he seems to be on my side. But he’s not a good guy, he’s still keeping me here. Project Apple was run by SSS people, for use by the SSS, he can’t support one and not the other, does he not understand that?

“Where is WISE’s base of operations in Ostania?”
I don’t even know that one. Papa doesn’t even think about that.

Thus, silence.

With Gas-Coin breaking more fingers, Anya stopped trying to hold back her tears and decided to just cry it all out.
These tears cracked Chloe’s resolve.
“This is going entirely too far…Starlight’s doing an impressive job…think that Twilight’s dead…going to crack before much longer…wanted me to break out Starlight…this girl is just a kid…told me about this earlier…help her?”

For Anya, some people’s thoughts were easier to read than others. While she can pick up on them just fine, understanding them is its own hurdle. Her Papa is easily the biggest offender when it comes to overcomplicated thoughts that give Anya a headache, followed by Grammy and Nightfall, but her Auntie Chloe was also surprisingly difficult to read at times.
Auntie Chloe doesn’t believe me—she thinks Papa’s alive? But she’s not saying anything… 

“Agent Nightfall. We’ve heard that she’s your top spy behind Twilight. What does she do, who is she?”

Ah. Speaking of Nightfall.
“I don’t like Nightfall. She tries to take over my missions so she can take credit. She just wants clout! She’d stab us in the back to make a name for herself. Honestly, you’d be doing WISE a favor if you got rid of her, we only keep her around because she’s so good at what she does.”

“Which is?”

“Combat missions. She’s super good at beating up the bad guys. Or the good guys. Whoever, really.”
Not that she’s so good at them nowadays, but remember what Papa said. Every lie has a basis of truth.

Looking up, Anya sees him brandishing the pliers.
“I won’t ask again. What is Nightfall’s civilian identity?”

Do I tell him? Sticks will be safer if I do. But she could betray WISE. Although, betray Papa? I doubt it. Maybe I could…tell a half truth?
“She’s my aunt.”

“Very funny, Starlight, that doesn’t help if we don’t know who you are.”
The crunch of bone follows.

Ignore the pain. Think about Papa. Think about mama. Think about Bond.
Think about Becky, about Sy-on Boy, about cartoons, about peanuts.
Papa better buy me all the peanuts when we’re done, his mission is safe thanks to me.
Not that he can find out…
Just keep bluffing, just keep bluffing, just keep bluffing.
You can do this, Starlight Anya.
“Heh. I have transcended above pain. Above feeling. Above mortality. You cannot hurt me.”

Chloe’s mind runs on. Short fragments. Barely decipherable.
“Pretending to be tough? A kid, this strong? She’s crying, looks determined as ever. Scary.”

Gas-Coin continues his questioning.
“What do you know about Operation Strix? We’ve heard it’s WISE’s top priority.”

Oh. Can’t tell him too much truth.
“Sticks! That’s my mission!”

“We heard it was Twilight’s.”

Chloe was listening very intently.
“It is Twilight’s…”

“He gave it to me. He wasn’t good enough to impersonate a kid. The guy sucked.”

“What’s it about? Why would their most important job be given to a kid?”

Do I say the same thing I told Unkie? But then they’d know where I go to school. But he won’t recognize me, right? If I can get the SSS to doubt Sy-on Dad, world peace will be one step closer!
“It’s protection. I’m supposed to protect Damian Desmond from assassination attempts. His father has tried to hire people to kill him, so that he can blame it on Westalis and declare war. I serve world peace, and I’m not gonna let the Evil Superboss Desmond lay a hand on Damian while I’m watching!”
That sounds convincing. I think?

Chloe freezes, dumbfounded.
“Wait, is that real? Donovan Desmond is trying to have his own son murdered, as a scapegoat? That’s… exactly what Grandfather did with me!”

Gas-Coin was not dumbfounded.
“That’s ridiculous. WISE’s top mission wouldn’t be protecting their enemy’s son. I’ll give you one more chance to tell the truth.”

Anya stays quiet. Another crunch of fingers.
She whimpers.
Scarface enters the room.
“Here’s a photograph of Sherwood.”

Anya’s eyes lit up at the familiar face.
Damnit. Couldn't disguise my recognition of Grammy Sylvie…
“OHHHHHH. Embassy lady!”

“Huh?” 

“She works at the embassy! The upper brass tried to recruit her, but she refused. Too attached to Ostania. I think she’s cool, but my coworkers don’t like her. They call her a traitor.”

Gas-Coin raises an eyebrow, but for once, seems to believe her.
“Finally, some useful intel. We’re always wasting so much effort tailing her, it’s tiring.”
Chloe seems impressed, but that’s about all Anya can glean from her thoughts.
“...Starlight just…and pulls that off…because kids…naturally trusted?”

“Scarface, for a recap. She says she doesn’t like her aunt, Agent Nightfall. Won’t tell us who that is. Apparently Operation Strix is protecting the younger Desmond kid from assassins sent by his father, but that’s just ridiculous. However, if that is the case…she’d have to be someone close to him to protect him. Get me the most recent yearbook for Eden College. Call Briar in here while you’re at it.”

“What am I, his errand boy? Oh right, you can hear me. Is Desmond actually trying to kill his son?”

Anya nods. He isn’t, but with how much he hates Sy-on Boy she wouldn’t be surprised.

“Wow. Y’know, my grandson’s in his year at Eden. If Desmond’s power grabs get him hurt, they’ll be hell to pay. Anyway kid, this doesn’t look great for you. Open up for your sake, if nothing else.”

Scarface leaves again. 

Anya doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to people talking to her in their mind, even if Sy-on is always doing it.
They won’t recognize me. They won’t recognize me. They won’t recognize me.
But…Auntie Chloe will. Once she realizes who I am she’ll get me out, right?
Why did I get wrapped up in this? Being a spy sucks. Bondman makes it look fun.

Anya sits there in silence with Gas-Coin. Chloe watches uncomfortably.
“...not like she had a choice…test subject to homeless kid to spy…isn’t going to crack…Twilight trained her…go easy…can’t ask that, they’d have my head…no Chloe, don’t think like that…specific orders…do nothing…compromised…if she’s a helpless kid…”

Gas-Coin breaks the silence. “While we’re waiting, let’s talk about moles.” 

“What about them?” Anya asks, with zero emotion in her voice.

“You obviously have one with us. Who is it?”

“You really don’t know who? I thought the great Gas-Coin himself would’ve been more competent.” Anya’s voice is flat and deadpan, but her words are as mocking as ever. She may be in pain, but she can still fight.

“Who is it, Starlight? I want a name.”

“Wilker.”

Chloe drops her pen again.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”
Seems Gas-Coin didn’t find it funny.

“OF COURSE IT IS! YOU THINK I HAVE ANY IDEA WHO OUR MOLE IS? AGENTS RARELY EVEN KNOW EACH OTHERS COVERS. NO FUCKING WAY THEY’D TELL US WHO–”
Starlight’s sudden angry tirade is interrupted by her final unbroken fingers meeting the same fate as the rest.
Thishurtsthishurtsthishurtsthishurtsthishurtsthishurtsthishurtsthishurtsthishurtsthishurts

“Kids aren’t supposed to say words like that.”

Really Gas-Coin? That’s all you have to say? It hurts so damn bad, I wanna just–
Wait, what’s stopping me again? Papa won’t hear it. He can’t ground me for swearing.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Slightly embarrassing time for Yuri to walk in.
“Scarface said you needed me?”

“She’s barely given us shit. I’ll admit you’re better at torture than I am. She’d better give up her civilian identity, her mission, and WISE’s base of operations in Ostania by the time I’m back, or you’ll be the one paying for it.”
“Starlight was willing to stand up for Briar when he brought her in, let's see how she fares with his fate in her hands.”
Gas-Coin walked out, slamming the door.

“Well, Starlight. Seems it’s just you and me.”

“And Chloe.”
“She knows my name?”

Yuri did not comment on that.
On the outside, he was confident.
“Anything you’d care to spit out before we get started, Ms. Traitorous Trash?

But on the inside?
“Our HQ is designed so that the walls let sound through, so suspects can be swayed by hearing the screams of others. But it’s working against me, hearing Anya’s cries while I filed paperwork… Now I have to cause them? What have I done?”

“Do your worst!”

“Happily. Chloe? Get me a tub of water.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. My hair might not stay hidden if it gets wet…

Anya might not have a particularly high view of her uncle, but she could at least acknowledge that he was exceptionally good at doing his job while he was breaking apart inside.
Turns out that no matter how much you claim to dislike her, waterboarding your niece is far from pleasant. Granted, it’s far from pleasant for her too. Everyone involved, really.

Gasping for air as her head is pulled out of the tub, Anya sends her uncle a glare.
"I'm not–” She gasped for air. “–telling you anything!”
I thought they were supposed to hold me under for way longer.
“You’re soft, Briar. You’re going easy on me. Why? Are you scared?”
Just need to make Unkie doubt himself a bit mor–

Anya’s train of thought was derailed off a bridge and into a river as her head was plunged under again.

Hold your breath. 

0

Count the seconds. 

1

You’ll last for at least sixty,

2

Unkie will let up before then. 

3 

Don’t try to breathe in the water.

4

Don’t struggle, 

5

spare the oxygen. 

6 

Close your eyes.

7

8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14.

Anya’s lungs burned for air. She visualized herself in other scenarios which forced her underwater that didn’t involve torture.

15

You’re saving Ken. 

16

You’ll get a Stella from it. 

17 

He’ll be okay. 

18

Papa will save you.

19

He always does.

20

21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27.

28

You slipped off a surfboard,

29 

because Mama pushed it

30

way too hard

31 

Mama will save you.

32

She always does.

33

34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40.

Intrusive thoughts always took over Anya’s mind when she was underwater.

41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47.

Now is no different.

48

You’re underwater. 

49

No more than three years old.

50

Not floating, not sinking.

51

You were “uncooperative”.

52

They were “preventing resistance”.

53

Men in white coats with clipboards,

54

waiting, standing, writing, watching through the glass.

55

Tubes, lines, needles, wires in your body in the water.

56

There’s an oxygen mask too.

57

Papa will save you.

58

Mama will save you.

59

They always do.

60

Not today.

61

62, 63, 64, 65…

66

That oxygen mask 

67,

would be

68,

nice right now.

69,  70,            71,                              72,                                                     73,

Eyes closed, yet Anya’s vision faded.

The first thing Anya could remember was coughing water all over her uncle. Or was she vomiting water? She wasn’t sure. It felt like both. Her lungs felt heavy. They probably were.
She could barely breathe.
I remember my head getting dunked, but… not much more than that. I hope I didn’t say anything…

“–rlight. Starlight. STARLIGHT!”

She was being roughly shaken awake—was she asleep?—by Unkie Yuri.
The force of the shaking made her eject more water from her insides onto his outsides.

“Are you okay?”

Heh. Unkie’s worried about me. When’s the last time that happened?

“Gascoigne would’ve killed me if she died on my watch. She’s too valuable to let die. That’s why you care that she’s okay. Nothing more.”

“What’s it look like?”, is what Anya tried to say.
Her words came out as a garbled mess, alongside more water.

Concern was a strange look in the eyes of the man who had just been torturing her.

“Yuri, she can barely breathe. No way is she going to be able to answer any questions.”

“I might’ve gone too far.”

“Sure did.” said Auntie Chloe, as Anya nodded in agreement.

Before long, Gas-Coin walked in.
“So? What did she say?”

Yuri stared at the floor awkwardly.
“I, uh. Overestimated her lung capacity.”

The captain raised his eyebrow, so Chloe finished for him.
“What Yuri means to say is that he decided it would be a good idea to waterboard her, and instead she passed out for a solid five minutes. There’s so much water in her lungs she can barely breathe even now, let alone tell us anything.”

“Dammit Chloe! Throwing me under the bus like that!”

Anya chuckled at her uncle’s thoughts, which turned into a sputter and then a full blown coughing fit.

Gas-Coin simply sighed.
“Briar, you’re off your game today. Leave us.”
He sat down across the table from Anya.

A few minutes passed, with a silent stare-down interrupted only by coughs and watery splutters.

The door opened.
“Here’s the yearbook,” Scarface says as he slams it on the table unceremoniously.

The next half hour is spent with Scarface, Gas-Coin, and Chloe analyzing Anya’s face and comparing it to various kids in the yearbook, because there was little more they could do until Anya’s lungs cleared up.
And while Anya’s lungs may have been slowly clearing, her mind was not.
Scarface is too good at noticing the tiny changes on my face. He saw my recognition of Papa, and of Grammy, and he knows I’m telepathic…
Anya focuses on a speck of dirt on the wall. She counts up prime numbers in her head—using all her mental energy to do so, she’s not good at math—and lets the sounds, sights, and thoughts of the interrogation room fade away.

Anya hardly noticed, but eventually, Scarface had gotten to the F’s.
She was lucky to have had her baby face, which she had rapidly matured out of in the last year. The picture of her, despite being a mere year old, was too different for the connection to be made by either Scarface or Gas-Coin.

Chloe however?
Her eyes flitted to the book. Back to Anya. Back to the book. Back to Anya.
“...oh my god…Yuri’s niece…Agent Starlight…Anya Forger is a spy…he probably doesn’t know about her…oh my god…didn’t notice…can help her…getting hanged…I know Anya’s tough…unflappable spy…Yuri arrested her…had today off?...arrest his own niece…Yor’ll kill him…Loid too…scary guy…rather face her than him…a dead man walking…”
And yet, she said nothing.

Eventually, Scarface got to the end of their year with no match.
“Guess she’s in another year. Makes sense in retrospect, she’s too young to be in Desmond’s classes.”

Gascoigne scoffed, unimpressed by his underlings. “Chapman, prepare a cell for her, and see if you can find some smaller handcuffs. We’ll let her stew overnight.”

I’m gonna miss dinner. Mama’s gonna be so worried.

Having a gun pointed at your face is surprisingly nerve-wracking.
Doubly so when you are dizzy from a lack of oxygen.

“I dare you to try anything.”

While she tried to say “wasn’t planning on it, Gas-Coin”, Anya still mostly stumbled over her words and coughed water everywhere. Her handcuffs are unlocked before Scarface pushes her wrists behind her and Chloe replaces them with handcuffs that actually fit her. Guess she won’t be slipping out this time.
At least she’s trying to be gentle with my fingers.
Wait, her thoughts are buzzing in her head like flies. What’s this, a flashback?

Anya dived into Auntie Chloe’s mind to see what had happened.

Anya Forger is Agent Starlight. Anya Forger is Agent Starlight. Anya Forger is Agent Starlight.
In her spiral, Chloe failed to notice that Yuri Briar was pacing back and forth anxiously, and walked straight into him.

“Hey! What the Fu–Oh, Chloe. How are you?”
He was not doing a good job of pretending to be okay.

“Clearly better than you, Second Lieutenant Briar. Where can I find child-sized handcuffs?”

“Oh uhhhhh. I’ll show you. Follow me.”

“Alright.”

The two SSS agents walked through corridors in awkward silence, side by side.
Yuri turned his head to start mouthing in Chloe’s direction.
“I’ve made a huge mistake.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow, then mouthed back. “What else is new?”

“Agent Starlight is my niece. I arrested and tortured my own niece.”

“I noticed. Scarface and Gascoigne didn’t, and I don’t plan on telling them.”

“Chloe. Sis is going to kill me. At first I was thinking she’d be happy that I helped make the country a safer place, but I’m realizing how much she loves her daughter. She’s never going to forgive me. And I’d never admit it to Starlight, but…hearing her cries? I feel bad for her. What the hell do I do now, Chloe?”

Trust Yuri Briar to trauma-dump out of nowhere.
“Isn’t it obvious? We break her out.”

Anya had never been more thankful that Unkie was crazy about Mama, and that Auntie Chloe was willing to help Unkie. Auntie Chloe and Scarface left with her to take her to a cell, while Gas-Coin went to do… whatever it is he does. Anya stumbled several times, the hands on her shoulders holding her up unrelentingly. Scarface’s mind was empty while Chloe’s was racing.

Then it began. The hand Chloe had on Anya’s shoulder? She gave a long squeeze, enough for Anya to notice, but not Scarface. Followed by a short squeeze. Then a long one, then a short one. A break, two long squeezes, a short, then another long.

1. That’s what they say in Spy Wars before starting a message!

-.-- ..- .-. .. yuri
.-- .- -. - ... wants
-- . me
- --- to
..-. .-. . . free
-.-- --- ..- you

Of course, Anya didn’t need to know Morse to know what Chloe was saying, she could just read her mind. Regardless, she’d been taught it by the Whitecoats, and remembered it so she could know the secret messages in Spy Wars.

Chloe slipped a key into Anya’s mangled fist, and continued with her Morse.

-- . . - meet
.... .. -- him
.- - at
.--. .- .-. -.- park

The three got to the cell, which Anya noticed was conveniently out of the way of any guards. Scarface unlocked the door.

“I hope you’ll talk more tomorrow, for your sake. Good night.”
Unceremoniously, he pushed her in.

The door slammed, locking with finality.

Anya waited for a good ten minutes, waiting for voices to retreat, and coughing up more water, sitting on the bench in silence. Once her lungs felt light enough, she stood up.

You got this, Anya.
Operation Jailbreak, go!

Thanks to her “stubby legs”, Anya was able to reach her hands down, and step over the handcuffs, to get her hands in front of her. Yet another thing that’s finally coming in handy for her. Quickly realizing the key Chloe gave her was for the cell and not the cuffs, Anya set it down. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she slipped her fingers under her wig and pulled it off.

I’m just like Papa with his masks. Except because I have longer hair than Papa, I need bobby pins to hold it in place.

She took one of the pins out of her hair, and started bending it.
Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. While I’m glad Papa taught me how to do this, I don’t think he expected broken fingers while picking locks. At least handcuffs are easy to pick.

Anya managed to shove the bobby pin into the keyhole and successfully open the cuff. Repeating the process with her newfound dexterity, she was free.
Agent Starlight always completes her mission.

Taking the brown contacts out of her eyes proved to be more difficult than expected, but Anya managed (with no small amount of pain).
Was it overkill to change my eye color? With how much Sy-on is always thinking about my “bright emerald eyes”, they must be unique, right? Since the bad guys didn’t figure out who I was, it must have been worth it…

To remove any evidence of her breakout, she pocketed them, her makeshift lockpick, and removed all the bobby pins from her hair. She couldn’t really fit the wig in her pocket, so she just shoved it into her underwear. That’s what it's for, right?

Sensing no thoughts nearby, Anya unlocked the door.
Done using my hands. Better keep them in my pockets so people don’t ask why they’re all broken.
Oh fuck. I have no idea how to get out.

The thirteen-pretending-to-be-fourteen-pretending-to-be-thirteen year-old spent the next ten minutes creeping around the headquarters of the State Security Service, avoiding anywhere she could sense thoughts. Although she had no idea where she was, she at least knew she was out of the places where prisoners could be expected to be. The general lack of security surprised her, but she suspected that Unkie or Auntie could have something to do with it.

After another ten stressful minutes of avoiding people, Anya finally, unavoidably, runs into someone, because he didn’t have any thoughts that she could detect. Not at first, at least.
Wilker. Oh no.

“A kid? I think she’s lost!”
“Hey kid! What are you doing here?”

Gas-Coin didn’t tell him about me?
“Oh uhh, I was going to mail a letter, but I only realized this wasn’t the post office after I got lost inside…”
Anya did not need to fake the tears of an anxious lost child.

“Oh, that’s horrible! This must be terrifying, does she even know she’s at the State Security Service?”
“Come with me. Where are your parents?”

“They’re at work. I’m with my Unkie Yuri but we split up to run errands. I was gonna meet him at the park!”

“Yuri? Yuri Briar? This is his niece? She’s adorable!”
“Oh! I know Yuri! I’ll take you to him!”

“Thanks Mr. Sunglasses Man.”

“What a cute kid.”

With a stroke of luck, neither Scarface nor Gas-Coin were anywhere to be seen on the walk out. Auntie Chloe must be keeping them busy. Anya will need to thank her later.

Being a spy is exhausting. No wonder Papa’s so tired all the time.

“Hey, Yuri! Found your niece!”

The man in question spun around.
“D–Director?”

“She was lost! Keep a better eye on her, man. Don’t want to upset your sister!”

“Unkie!”

Yuri looked at Anya in relief… and then, in confusion.
“How’d she get her pink hair back? Didn’t she leave that wig at Loidy’s place?”

Heh. Operation Jailbreak: complete.

Chapter Text

Sunday, November 4th, 1962

As far as Twilight was concerned, this day could not get much worse. Getting called to the “hospital” on a weekend was never a good sign. He received not one, not two, but three side missions from Handler, and none of them went particularly well. Maybe he’s lost his edge. Also, to top it all off, Yor had a meeting with the Lady Patriots Society, so he needed to call Franky to babysit Anya. But Franky had the gall to turn him down, saying he had a date. As if. As much as Twilight loathed needing to turn to Yuri Briar for help, Loid Forger was nothing if not a devoted family man—one who did not have an overtly hostile relationship with his brother-in-law.

Twilight thought that his daughter was old enough to look after herself, she’s fourteen. However, Loid would never forget what happened the first—and only—time that he had left her home alone. Getting kidnapped by Edgar, of all people? He would never let that happen again, he would never again open his apartment door to find his beloved daughter missing.

So when Loid opened his apartment door after a grueling day, just wanting to come home to his family, and saw the place vacant? He almost fainted on the spot.

0.00000s

No sign of Anya. No sign of Yuri. No sign of a struggle. Think, Twilight. You’re the top spy in Westalis. She’s not in her room… no noises from the bathroom, no shadows from behind the counters… Where could they have gone? Where would they be? 

0.01143s

Bond is still here, they didn’t take him on a walk. Even if they had, Anya knows that she needs to leave a note. The counter is clear. 

0.01999s

Get a grip, Twilight. How could you let your daughter disappear like this? You’re a failure of a father AND a failure of a spy!

0.02935s

No Loid, calm down. Be reasonable. Wherever she is, she’s with Yuri, he wouldn’t let anything happen to her or dare incur Yor’s wrath.

0.03975s

Despite all these reassurances, Twilight could not shake his distrust of the man. Yor may trust him, but he does not. First and foremost, he is an SSS officer.

0.05199s

What if he’s taken Anya to force me to reveal myself as a spy? It would be suspicious if I did anything that “Loid Forger” couldn’t in order to get her back.

0.06283s

Would Yuri do that? Would he use his sister’s beloved daughter to expose a spy?

0.06423s

He might, the methods of the SSS are ruthless. And she’s a critical asset to my mission—yes, she’s for the mission. Nothing else. Nothing more. Loid’s daughter, not Twilight’s. Loid’s daughter. Loid’s daughter. Loid’s daughter.

0.08060s

Loid’s daughter.

0.08215s

Aren’t I Loid?

0.08643s

Afterall, how could the best spy in Westalis forget: the importance of truly becoming the role. In order to fool everyone, you must first fool yourself. Anya is Loid Forger’s daughter.

0.10000s

And Loid Forger would move mountains for his precious daughter.

“Bond? Do you know where Anya went?”

“Borf.”

First order of business: call Yor.

“You have reached the Desmond Estate, who is this and to whom do you wish to speak?”

“I’m Loid Forger, my wife, Yor, is in the Lady Patriots Society, and I need to speak with her urgently.”

“Understood, please hold.”

Second order of business: visit a certain “cigarette salesman”. Not that he’s much of a cigarette salesman, as his number one customer, Loid Forger, is a non-smoker. So, perhaps a more fitting statement would be that he is a Spy Wars comic book salesman. Eh, semantics. Regardless of what he sells, his date has, without a doubt, ended by now—if it ever started. Franky seemed uncharacteristically happy considering he just had a date. Did it go well for once?

He seemed ready to gloat before he noticed Twilight’s grim expression, a stark contrast from the usual ‘upset Franky, relaxed Loid’ dynamic after a failed date.
“What happened, Twi?”

“Anya’s missing.”

Franky’s face instantly fell to be exactly as grim as Twilight’s.
He lit a cigarette. While Franky was the first to give the advice that you shouldn’t get attached to a cover family, he by no means followed that advice. Franky “I know a guy who knows a guy” Franklin may have been one of the most well-connected people in Ostania, and a self-proclaimed friend of Twilight, but where he truly prided himself was in being Anya Forger’s “Uncle Scruffy”.

It was time for Count Scruffyhead to get to work.

“I got this contact, she’s a sex worker. If anyone would know where to find a missing teenage girl, it would be her.”

Loid raised an eye at that. “How’d you meet this ‘contact’?" 

“TWILIGHT, IT’S NOT WHAT YOU’RE THINKING! I’m not some heathen who would have sex with someone I’ve just met!” The informant raised his hands angrily. “I hired her so I could ask her on a date, thought that if any lady would be willing to go out with me it would be someone who’s regularly with guys they don’t know…” He pouted. "Turns out she’s a lesbian. Great source of intel though, we’ve stayed in contact throughout the years.” 

Twilight walked away halfway through that. He really didn’t need to know his informant’s romance woes.

Third order of business: return home and wait in case Anya returns. 

I should probably also contact Sundown so tha–

Twilight’s train of thought is instantly derailed by the door to his apartment slamming open to reveal a visibly distressed Yuri Briar carrying a visibly disheveled Anya Forger, whose face was streaked with tears—or water? Twilight became a spy so that he could ensure a world where kids wouldn’t have to cry. And currently, his daughter was crying.
She’s not really your daughter. She’s just a part of your mission. Nothing more.
But that doesn’t change the fact that she is a child. A child who is crying. That is unacceptable.

“Papa!”

Twilight has been a spy for almost two decades, and there were very few times in which he has been left truly speechless.
This was not one of them.

“I WAS WORRIED SICK! WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU TWO? ANYA, WHY ARE YOU CRYING? YURI, WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?”
Loid ran over to his daughter and pulled her into a tight hug.

Yuri started to sputter out a pathetic excuse of an excuse before he was interrupted by Anya.
“W–we got arrested by the Secret Police!”

Twilight has been a spy for almost two decades, and there were very few times in which he has been left truly speechless.
Yeah. This was one of them.

Anya, having sensed his utter bewilderment, elected to elaborate.

“They thought that I was some rebellious punk teenager! They thought I wanted to overthrow the government, b–because I dyed my hair!”

That had to be the single most ridiculous thing Twilight had ever heard in his life.
“Anya, your hair isn’t even dyed.”

“They d–didn’t know that! They let me go once they realized it, though!”

While he’d never admit it, Loid had a weak spot for his girls. He trusted them fully, they could get away with almost any lie they wanted, no matter how outlandish. He sighed to himself.
“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it. They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?”

It was at this moment, as she raised her hands for him to look at, that he realized just how fucked up Anya’s fingers were. Bent, dislocated, or downright shattered, none of the bones had been spared. To add to it, she soon coughed up some water.

Is she missing fingernails?
Loid’s heart dropped. That’s the work of the SSS if he’s ever seen it. He hugged his daughter tighter, as he shook in anger.
Guess I won’t be writing this off so easily.
Clicking together the pieces in his mind, he had a pretty good idea of what had happened. Yuri Briar—the fearful, quivering Yuri Briar who stands in front of him right now—had had his own niece waterboarded.
But why? Does he know I’m a spy? Did he assume Anya knew something? Is this a warning?
I will kill him. How dare he do this to my precious daughter.
She’s only my daughter for the mission.
Is she? Then why do I want to shoot Yuri?

Anya’s voice brought him out of his spiral, if only temporarily.
“They uhm. Wanted t–to know who I was working with…”

Bond padded up to Anya, who tried to pet him only to wince when her fingers touched his fluff. The dog whimpered in sympathy.
“Borf…”

Twilight turned to Yuri, who was looking anywhere except at Loid.
“And…they didn’t interrogate you? Care to explain why?”

If looks could kill, Yuri Briar would be six feet under. He may be an officer of the SSS, a master of interrogation, but even he crumpled before a father’s fury.
“I. Uhm. Well, you see, uhh–”

Anya piped in to save him once again.
“Th–they were going to! But once they found out that he wasn’t my parent, just a babysitter, they let him off!”

“Uh huh. Is that so?” Loid delivered a glare, as suspicious as it was murderous, to his brother-in-law, as he shook with anger.
He looks far too guilty.
"Yuri."
No way he isn't responsible for this. 

"L–Loidy.”

The SSS doesn’t just randomly arrest people in public because of something as small as dyed hair.
"Where the hell did you bring Anya, that got the attention of the SSS?"
He put Anya in danger, he had to have! I can’t just cut him off from my daughter, Yor would never let me do that.

"Oh uh–" 

"–we were at the park!" Once again, Anya interjected.

I can’t call him out on it, it would put my mission at risk! The average psychiatrist wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the fact that they’re talking to an SSS officer!
"How come Anya's hair color has never raised suspicion with the SSS before? We’ve gone to the park as a family hundreds of times in the past."
But if I don’t call him out for lying, he could hurt Anya again. 

"I…guess she's never been around them before?"

It doesn’t matter that he’s lying. It doesn’t affect the mission.
"And why was she around them? They don't just show their faces in public randomly. You're hiding something."
Doesn’t matter? It doesn’t matter that Anya’s been tortured? 

"Arghh, Loidy spit it out already! What are you trying to say!" Yuri exclaimed, oblivious to Twilight’s mental war with himself.

Loid, hold your tongue, do it for the mission.
For the mission. For the mission. For the mission.
Oh, Twilight. Fuck the mission.
Do it for your daughter.
"You work for the SSS."

The apartment was silent, save for Anya’s occasional whimper of pain that she tried to suppress.

Yuri stared at Loid.
Loid stared back at Yuri.

Anya stared at both of them, concerned.
“…Papa versus Unkie?” She muttered, trying to defuse the situation.
Bond stared at all three of them.
“Borf?”

Loid continued to stare unblinkingly at a very uncomfortable Yuri.

“Uh, pardon? I work in the Department of Foreign Affai–”

The floodgates of Loid’s fury had opened, and Twilight could not contain them.

“Yuri Briar. Do you remember our first meeting? Because I do. Question, after question, after question, not a single break between them to give me or Yor a chance to answer them. I know how State Security does interrogations. Back when I was in the Westalian Army, I had a bad run-in with Ostanian military intelligence—it's how I lost my eye”, the man removed his glass eye to demonstrate. Yuri shuddered. “...and I could recognize that interrogation style anywhere, it's no different from yours. As the head of the psychiatry department at Berlint General, I’ve received many VIP patients over the years, some of which were members of the SSS. They were interrogating their goddamn psychiatrist, because interrogation is all they know how to do, and you’re no different. Oh yeah, our first meeting? You mentioned going to Hugaria. Talked about the old man who runs Kalpatia’s. Did you know that he retired while I was still there as a student? Why would you lie about that? It’s obvious to me. My doctoral thesis was on the psychology of lying, have you ever read it? A good lie needs enough plausible details to be convincing, but not so many you get caught. You wanted Yor and I to think you traveled to Obda to explain your absence, when in reality you were doing SSS shit you didn’t want us to know about. Don’t even get me started on your threats! You threatened to have me executed and to have our marriage annulled! Those aren’t in the power of a mere diplomat. I also seem to recall Anya telling me you called her spy cartoon “western propaganda”? Plus, I’ve seen your goddamn SSS ID in your coat pocket! You’re not subtle, don’t deny it! Hell, Anya keeps finding bugs around our place after you visit. Do you have no respect for your sister’s privacy?!”

Yuri looked utterly shellshocked. He opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing that came out was utterly unrelated.
“You actually are Westalian?”

Neither man said anything further on that matter. Yuri Briar had never before been as scared for his life as he was at this moment.
Loid Forger, family man, was terrifying.

Fuck. Now you’ve gone and done it, Loid. Now he knows you’re a spy. You just had to let your feelings get the better of you. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. I can play the “overprotective dad” role to perfection.
Is it really a role? Thanks to this bastard, my daughter was tortured.

Pulling up his shirt slightly to expose the gun he carries on him at all times, Loid moved into Yuri’s face, his nose mere millimeters away.
“I don’t care who you work for, but don’t you dare hurt my family. If you harm one hair on Anya’s head, make her shed a single tear, I’ll be the one having you executed, legality be damned. Are we clear?”
Twilight put his hand on the gun, unable to stop it from shaking with him.

Yuri seemed out of it, just muttering to himself. “You weren't kidding when you said you’d protect Yor from spears, bullets, or meteors…”

“Unkie.”
Anya attempted to pull Yuri out of his own thoughts.

Loid was more successful, speaking with a cold fury.
“I’ll ask one more time.”
The safety on his gun clicks off.
“Where did you bring my daughter that got her in the eyes of the State Security Service?”

"Okay, so, you see w–"
"–e were at the park!"

Damnit Anya, stop interrupting him!

"Unkie got called back to work while we were at the park, and they said it was super urgent, he was needed for something, it couldn't wait!"

Yuri finally found his voice.
"Yeah, so I had to bring the Chihuahua with me, but I left her in the lobby to wait while I did what they needed me to!"

"and that’s when they arrested her for having pink hair?"

“Yep.”
“Yep.”

Loid and Twilight’s thoughts ran antiparallel. Side by side, and yet in opposite directions.
That at least explains why Yuri looks so guilty…
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. An arrest, and torture, for pink hair. Which she’s had her whole life. There is no way he didn’t do this to her.

“Bullshit.”
Loid drew his gun, cocking it.
I would shoot this man right here if I didn’t want Anya to see it. But thanks to him, Anya’s already seen so much worse. She can handle a little blood, she’s never been squeamish.

His daughter moved in front of him.
“PAPA. STOP. UNKIE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, DON’T SHOOT HIM. MAMA WOULD BE SAD.”
How is Anya still vouching for him, after everything?
She'd only do that if he truly is innocent.
Or if she believes that he is.
You know your daughter better than anyone. She may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but no one can get a lie past her. Not even Twilight, professional liar. If she’s vouching for him, he didn’t do it intentionally.
Even if it’s absolutely his fault?
It's not like he tortured her himself. Even if it is his fault, should you really shoot a man in front of your daughter? Should you really kill the only blood family your wife has left?

Clicking the safety on his gun back on, Twilight takes a step back.
“Very well then,” he said. To himself or to his daughter, he did not know. “Anya, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Need to relay this incident to Handler. Even if they’ve let her off, being in the eyes of the SSS once is already a problem for Operation Str–

His train of thought was cut off abruptly when he noticed Anya’s teary eyes and look of utter horror and despair.
Right. Anya’s scared of doctors. I’ve never understood why. After all, Loid Forger is a doctor, and she isn’t scared of him.

“P–papa… I don’t–hic–wanna go to the hospital…pl–please don’t m–make me…”

You’ve done it again, Twilight. You’ve made your daughter cry. How’s your mission to make a tomorrow without tears going now?
Be rational. Appeal to her hobbies.
“Anya, I need you to be reasonable here. If you ever want to be able to hold a tennis racket again, you’ll need to have surgery on them as soon as possible. You’re a big girl. You know, there’s a lot of studies that suggest that the number one way to overcome a fear is to face it, to expose yourself. Do you want to spend the rest of your life living in fear?”

Anya looked at her father with tears in her eyes, only slightly less than before.
“C–can we wait for Mama?”

A reasonable requ–

“Wait, yeah, hold on. Where’s Yor?”
At the mention of his sister, Yuri was returned to his “normal” self. 

“Yor is on her way home from a meeting with the Lady Patriot’s Society. I called her as soon as I arrived home and you two weren’t here. She should be home any minute, in fact.”

That is, assuming we account for the likelihood of her running across rooftops to get here faster, rather than bothering to wait for any vehicle.
Never quite understood why she does that, but at least she’s punctual.

Anya brightened up significantly at that.

Yuri, however, did not.
“Uhm. Loidy. Sis doesn’t know what I do for work. It’s a dangerous job, it’d just worry her! I don't want to make her worry. Can we, uhm, like, pretend I work for the Department of Foreign Affairs when she gets here?"

"Is that really why? Or do you just not want your sister to know that Anya's injuries are your fault?"

Yuri's silent guilt was worth a thousand words.
The opportunity to have blackmail on an SSS officer?
For the first time since getting home, Loid and Twilight were truly in agreement with how to proceed.
By unleashing his fist upon Yuri’s face, of course.

Loid felt raw, sadistic, vindictive joy at Yuri’s pained scream.

Chapter Text

Sunday, November 4th, 1962

Yor Forger’s day had—as far as she was concerned—started off pretty well!
For starters, she hadn’t pushed Loid out of the bed in the night. Anya willingly ate the breakfast she made. She got to see Yuri for a bit before leaving to go hang out with her friends. She quite enjoyed spending time with Melinda and the others in the Lady Patriots Society. Okay, mostly just Melinda, but Janet, Kathy, and Margaret don’t need to know that.

However, this day had quickly turned sour when she received a call from her husband.

Her daughter and brother were missing?!

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. This isn’t good. Not good at all. Was there a break-in? Were they kidnapped? Did they go out and get hit by a car? Were they mugged? Kidnapped? Murdered? 

WERE THEY PICKED UP BY THE SECRET POLICE?

An image filled her mind, of Anya being dragged away by SSS officers while Yuri was held back.

“Mamaaaaaa!!! Help meeeeeeeee!”
“Sisssss! I couldn’t stop them!!!”

Oh no. This is bad. Are Anya and Yuri going to die???

Promptly declining Nola’s offer for a ride home, Yor opened the window, defenestrated herself onto the roof of the Desmond Manor, and took off sprinting.

Melinda chuckled to herself, having long since gotten used to Yor’s quirks.

Yor’s sheer speed as she ran and jumped from roof to roof was nearly unmatched, the cars below her may as well have been stationary. It was however beaten by one thing:
The pace of her mind.

If anything’s happened to either of them I’ll find the person responsible and kill them on the spot. Shopkeeper would understand.

Unless…

Her thoughts shifted; from the rapid panic of Yor Forger to the cold fury of the Thorn Princess.

Could it have been another Garden assassin? Who else would have the guts to go after my family?

Mistletoe wouldn’t want to upset his parents.

Foxglove wouldn’t risk Miss Connie’s wrath.

Gympie? I know she used to be jealous of my family, but I think she’s happy with Demetrius.

Could it have been Wolfsbane? But every time I have a job at his Hotel I make sure to clean up after myself! He can’t get on to me for that.

Is Lily mad that she needs to keep making more stilettos for me? But Thistle and Hemlock are so much more wasteful with their weapons.

Thistle might be bitter because of my higher ranking, but I don’t pull superiority on him to boss him around like Hemlock does.

I know Mancinella doesn’t really like Loid, but she adores Anya. Plus, he’s a frequent customer of her boutique, she wouldn’t want to lose business. 

Ivy would’ve shot them in broad daylight, she doesn’t like secrecy. 

Sundew could’ve done it just to sate her bloodlust, but she really only kills corrupt businessmen she’s met while working her day job. She’s never met my family.

I don’t know about Daffodil. I’ve never met them, because they've been on the same protection mission for so long. I don't know how they fight, or even their gender…

It might have been Hemlock. I’m overdue for another one of his tests, I don’t know why he keeps insisting on it, I always win. My family is my strength. Did he decide to go after them to try and win? No, I made it very clear that I’d kill him if he tried, and he doesn’t have a death wish.

But Oleander… Could it have been Oleander? I know I’m supposed to trust all my coworkers, but he’s with the SSS! If he wanted to make my family disappear, he definitely could.

No Yor—you can’t think like that. Your coworkers wouldn’t go after your family.

Shaking away her traitorous thoughts, Yor leaps off a building and grabs a power line, hastily ziplining onto her balcony.

“LOID, I’M HERE–" Yor exclaims while jumping in through the window, stopping in place when she sees her daughter and her brother.

“Mama!"
“Sis!" 

They're safe. Standing right here. They're not dead. They’re ok. Thank god. Deep breaths. 

Running over to Anya and enveloping her in a tight hug, Yor banished her catastrophizing thoughts to the back of her mind. 

“Uhm. Mama. That hurts.”

Right. No breaking bones.
It was at this point that Yor realized that Yuri’s face was heavily bruised, as if he’d been punched very hard fairly recently.

“Yuri, what happened to you? Where were you two?”

Her little brother looked at the floor awkwardly.

“They went to the park—without leaving a note, I should say,” Loid started with a glare, “and ran into the SSS while they were there.”

Yor’s blood ran cold.
I was right. Oleander, when I get my hands on you, I'll add a hundred more scars to that face.
“What…what did they want?”

Anya spoke up. “They thought dyed hair was suspicious, that it meant I was a punk rebel or something! They let us go when they realized my fabulous locks are au naturale.” Anya flicked her hair to the side, splashing droplets of water onto the floor. She flinched in pain as she did so.

Is her hair wet because they were trying to wash dye out of it? She's always had such a unique hair color, I didn't realize it could be a risk. I've been in this family for eight years and I’m still learning things. Did Ashe’s hair also cause trouble?
Wait. She flinched. She’s in pain. Anya’s hurt!

"Mama, look!"
Anya held up her hands.
“Bond has better finger dexterity than me now!”

Yor’s blood ran colder as she took in the juxtaposition of her daughter's smiling face and mangled hands. Each finger appeared to have three times as many joints as it should. The tips were caked in blood, with no fingernails in sight. Yor was pretty sure she saw bone protruding in several places.
How can she be cheerful? Isn't she in so much pain?
“Why…? Why did they do that to you?” Yor’s voice cracked.

Yuri, sensing her murderous aura, cut in to explain.
“They wanted her to give them names of other members of her ‘organization’, but she didn’t give any, due to her, uh, lack of an organization.”

“Anya, if this happens again—which it won’t—just, make up some names, please.”

“But Papa, what if the names belonged to real people? I don’t want them to get hurt! Uhm—Mama?”

They hurt my daughter. They broke her precious little fingers. For what? Because her hair is pink? I’ve never liked the secret police, but this is another level of cruelty. I’ll snap their fingers, crush their hands, whoever did this will beg for death, and I’ll give it to them happily, how dare they hurt my daug–

“Mama.”

“Who did this to you? Names, faces, anything you can tell me.”

“MAMA! No stabby thoughts! It was a misunderstanding, please don’t kill anyone!”

Anya knows me so well…
Not that she knows just how stabby my thoughts really are.

The drive to the hospital was tense (the whole time) and silent (at first).

Not to mention incredibly illegal.

Loid broke every traffic law known to man. Yor had no idea their car could go this fast. Anya pleaded with her father to slow down.
“Papa, I won’t die if we get there ten minutes later…!”

Loid was having none of it.
“We’ve already waited long enough for your mother, I won’t accept a single unnecessary delay!”

“Your mother”… He really thinks of me as Anya’s mother. They waited for me? Surely that’s an unnecessary delay. Anya needs to see a doctor right now!

Anya seems to have caught on to her distress. Reaching up and patting her on the shoulder with her elbow, she tries to comfort her mother.
“It’s okay Mama, Papa’s just stressed. I asked to wait for you. I need you with me in the hospital.”

Anya always knows just what I need to hear. But that doesn’t change how much pain she must be in. Why’s she the one comforting me, I should be comforting her. My Anya…

“Mama, my legs work fine! You don’t need to carry me!”

Ignoring her daughter’s words, Yor sprinted into the ER with Anya in her arms, leaving Loid in the dust.
“My daughter needs a doctor! Her fingers are hurt!" 

The receptionist did not seem to share Yor’s urgency.
Raising an eyebrow, she inquired further.
“Is this the result of an accident or injury?”

“Miss Frost, I–" 

Anya cut her mother off, holding up her hands.
"What's it look like, Ms. Crazy Lady?”

Yor was taken aback by her daughter's rudeness.
"Anya, that's not–”

Fiona was surprised by neither Anya’s injuries nor her words—not that showing emotions was something she was known for.
"I'll take that as a yes." 

At the perfect time to diffuse the tension, Loid ran up behind his family.
“Fiona, how fast can you get a surgery scheduled for her?”

“Should be able to get her in in about an hour, Doctor.”

Yor’s stress must be getting to her, because Fiona’s lips looked like they were moving way more than just the words she was speaking. Her head hurts—that must be why.

Leaving Loid to get things sorted out with his coworkers, Yor sat down to appease said headache.
The secret police hurt Anya. They hurt Yuri, just because he was near her. They tortured her. They broke her fingers. They kidnapped her. My daughter. My daughter. These monsters dared to lay a hand on my Anya. She was looking forward to the tennis meet with Fontaine Academy so much, but now Eden will need to find someone else to take her place… Anya will be crushed. The secret police are absolutely tyrannical. Torturing my daughter because her hair is a unique color? I’ll have to propose to Shopkeeper that we do some…pruning. Surely the world would be a more beautiful place without scum like them in it. I don’t care that we’re supposed to work with them. Sorry Oleander, but I’ll be painting the walls of your workplace red with the blood of your coworkers. And you, if you get in my way. 

The Thorn Princess was too lost in her thoughts to notice the alarmed look upon her daughter’s face.

Yor had never really been in a hospital before, besides when she was visiting her husband at work. When she was a kid, they hadn’t had the money. When she was older and got injured on a job, she was usually able to shrug it off. If she couldn’t do that, Gympie was usually able to put something together that helped, and if it didn’t, then Mistletoe could treat her. All that goes to say is that Yor found the wait time in this so-called “emergency” room to be surprisingly long.
It’s been two hours since we were called out of the waiting room. Didn’t Fiona say it would only be an hour until surgery? Maybe I misheard her. Her lips were moving funny…

Fiona entered the room breaking Yor away from the monotonous—and bloody—thoughts.

“We’re all ready for you, Miss Forger.”

Yor gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead.
“You can do this. It won’t hurt as bad as whatever those bad guys did to you!”

Despite her words, Yor was nervous on behalf of her daughter. Fiona seemed to pick up on this, putting a reassuring hand on Yor’s shoulder.
“She's in good hands." 

Anya, looking at Fiona nervously, nodded.

“I’m ready.”

Another thing that Yor is learning about hospitals: waiting rooms are boring, and as a result, her mind wanders. She feels helpless.

Loid is so busy, trying to get things straightened out for Anya’s care. He’s been calling the school, talking to doctors… I wish he would let me take on some of the load. He’s filling Sylvia in on what happened… I’ve never seen her look so distressed. Today she nearly lost the only family she has left. I can’t imagine what she feels like right now. She looks furious, is Loid telling her that the SSS was responsible? I get it, Sylvia. I want to kill them too.
Wait…

A memory from eight years prior, burned into Yor’s mind, resurfaced.
A day she can’t forget, because her daughter was kidnapped.
The day they adopted Bond.

“Excuse me. State Security. Investigating the incident that occurred in the City Center. Do you mind answering a few questions?”

The secret policewoman had long, wavy, red hair. She had a low, stern, yet not uncaring voice. Although her eyes were mostly hidden behind her sunglasses, an essence of blueish-green could have been seen behind them. 

“I see. Then it’s safe to assume that this dog is also one of the animals trained by the terrorist group. Which means we’ll be taking him with us.”

“Please, take good care of him.”

Despite being approached out of nowhere by the secret police, Loid hadn’t seemed phased.

“This is a delicate matter. Given the tenuous relationship between East and West, we’ll need to keep this under wraps, so your silence is crucial. Thanks for your cooperation.”

Yor had been unnerved by the presence of the secret police, but tried to act normal.
“Since all that’s over now, why don’t we go and look for a puppy together!”

“Sounds good. Come on, Anya.”

They did not go look for a puppy together. Instead, the father and daughter had gotten into an argument.

“NO WAY! I WANNA KEEP MISTER DOGGIE!”

“Listen, Anya–”

“I WANNA TAKE CARE OF MISTER DOGGIE!”

“You can’t, that dog belonged to the bad guys!”

“I DON’T CARE WHO HE WAS WITH, HE SAVED ME!”

“I understand, but didn’t you say that you wanted a small dog?”

“WELL NOW I WANT THIS MISTER DOGGIE! IT’S OKAY HE’S BIG!”

“You’re being difficult!”

Anya burst into tears, but the secret policewoman quickly found a way to silence her tears.
“Very well, he’s yours.”

Yor remembers asking if that was okay.

“I highly doubt one of these dogs going missing will cause an issue. The terrorists have been taken into custody, and this particular pup didn’t cause anyone harm.”

Loid and the secret policewoman were whispering off to the side. Almost as if they knew each other, although Yor was only realizing this in retrospect.

“What about all those other Mister Doggies? Will the police ociffers be mean to them?”

The secret policewoman had leaned down to Anya, her splitting image, and said such kind words to her, as if she knew exactly what would calm her.
“Don’t worry, you sweet thing. The dogs are going to be well taken care of. They’ll all be given soft beds to sleep in, and nice yummy food to eat. But this pup here? He didn’t have an easy life before he met you. So it’s very important that you’re always extra good to him. And I know he’ll be good to you. Can you do that?”

“Fanks a lot, Boss Lady!”

Eight years later, watching her husband converse with his mother in law, who had long wavy red hair, bluish-green eyes, a low caring voice, and wearing the same heels and lipstick she had seen all those years ago, Yor finally clicked the pieces together in her head.
Anya wasn’t afraid of her, Loid whispered with her, and she relented to Anya’s tears in an instant, willing to break rules for her…

The kind secret policewoman who had let them have Bond was Anya’s grandmother, Sylvia Sherwood.

Sylvia loves Anya so much, there’s no way she would condone this torture, is that why she looks so mad right now? I guess I should probably leave the murder to her, she'll be able to find exactly who did it, instead of indiscriminately killing everyone. I don't know what rank she has, but it's probably pretty high if she could bend the rules so we could keep Bond.

Yet another past memory surfaced to Yor’s mind; the night she and Loid got married.

A car had swerved from the next lane over, crashing into their van.
“What the– Hang on, Yor!”

“Huh?! Who are those people, do you know them?”

Loid had anxiously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Seems that– some of my patients are still, uh, having psychotic breaks!”

“Being a doctor must be very demanding.”

“The best course is to avoid them for a bit.”

In retrospect, should Yor really have believed that they were psychiatric patients? They looked more like the types of thugs she would have to take out for a job!

Picking up a crate, Loid slammed it into the head of two of the “patients”, before pulling a pipe off a wall.

“Hey Loid, sorry to pry, but are you supposed to hit your patients?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m uhh, using a cutting edge technique known as the, uh, concussive recovery method!”

How did I ever believe that?

Those weren't patients, they had a grenade, and Loid threw it straight back at them! I guess Sylvia must have made some enemies, and they went after the only family she had left—her son in law! 

Loid fought them off so well! Did she train him in case that would happen? Or is that just his military training? Whatever the reason, he's so strong! He told me Sylvia works at the Westalian Embassy, but I guess that’s probably a cover. Or maybe she works there to spy on the West? I'm not sure. Loid clearly knows about her job, he was talking with her the day we got Bond. But I don't think he supports the secret police himself. Afterall…

Yor remembered a conversation she and Loid had, back before they got together for real. 

“I think I want our marriage to continue on forever.”

Loid, completely missing her point, had responded:
“Well of course, it can continue for as long as you want! Afterall, your risk of being arrested won't ever really end.”

Even back then, he knew the reason I'd agreed to the marriage was to avoid secret police suspicion. And even having loved the daughter of a secret policewoman, Loid was willing to help me avoid them. He's such a lovely man.

Yor was broken out of her thoughts by a sudden entrance into the waiting room.

“Loid!!!!”

Franky walked up to Loid, who had by this point finally sat down across from Yor as they waited, and angrily shook his shoulders.
“Why didn’t you think to tell me you found Anya!?”

"Franky, I’ve–”

"I've been looking for her all day long! I had to hear it from Sund–I mean Alex–of all people!”

That caught Yor’s attention.
Was he going to say Sundew? Franky knows Sundew? I thought Sundew’s name was Paige? Maybe she has multiple names?

“I'm sorry, Franky. I've been preoccupied caring for my goddamn daughter! Cut me some fucking slack, will you?”

Franky raised his hands in surrender.
“Geez man, sorry." 

Yor however, was paralyzed in shock, her gaze transfixed on the woman who had followed Franky into the waiting room. 

She was taller than Franky, although a little shorter than Yor. She had violet eyes and long dark green hair in a high ponytail. If one looked closely at the black gloves she always wore, one would notice that her pinky and ring fingers were unmoving and unnaturally bulged outward. A particularly astute viewer could piece together that she had lost them, stuffing the glove fingers with cotton. 

Yor was hardly astute, but she knew this fact nonetheless—because she knew the woman. The whiplash hit her like a truck; after all—she was used to seeing this woman with a Blackbell M82 in her hands. 

Ivy?
Franky knows Ivy????
If he knows both Sundew and Ivy…
Could…
Could Franky be an assassin? Is he… Daffodil? 

Yor asked nervously,
"Uhm, Franky, who is this?"

"Ivy’s a uh, friend of mine.” Franky said… embarrassed?
“She was helping me look for Anya. Followed me here when I got the call that you guys found her.” 

Ivy tilted her head in confusion.
"You two know each other?"

"Franky's my brother in law!"

Now it was Franky’s turn to be confused.
"Since when have you two known each other?!”

“Uh–"
“Uh–"

A look of understanding crossed over his face as he connected the dots, and Yor panicked.

If Franky is Daffodil, and he knows now that I know Ivy, then he knows I'm an assassin!
Desperately, Yor mouthed to her brother-in-law.
“Please don't tell Loid." 

He mouthed back.

“I won't." 

Yor breathed a sigh of relief.

Ivy pulled her over to the corner of the room, and said to her in a low voice.
“I’m so sorry this happened, Yor.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I know better than most what it's like to lose someone to the SSS. You almost did today. This isn’t the kind of thing your daughter will just be able to shrug off, she’s not invincible like you are. Plus, you get in the eyes of the SSS once, they never stop looking. If they decide to throw a criminal record on her, she'll struggle to get a job for life. Unemployment hit hard for me once I got charged. Do you want your daughter to suffer like that?”

Yor knew only too well what had happened to make this woman seek out assassination. Ivy Irwin, age 28. A former member of the Red Circus, she had been betrayed about a decade prior. The Circus’s Ringmaster at the time had struck a deal with the SSS, the names of some comrades for his own freedom. Despite having been no more than peaceful protestors, Ivy and her friends—Lily and Willow—had been thrown under the bus, taken by the SSS on charges of terrorism—ignoring the real terrorism perpetrated by the Ringmaster. Willow did not survive the ensuing torture, while Ivy lost four fingers from it. Despite having served their time, the surviving two were still unable to find a job thanks to their severe—but false—criminal records.

While Lily had gone straight for killing (“If they’re going to label me a terrorist, I may as well cause terror”), Ivy started with prostitution to make ends meet. She eventually joined her “roommate” at Garden when one questionable job wasn’t enough to live off of.

If the SSS get their hands on Anya again, she could be forced into some truly horrible jobs just to live… I can’t let that happen.
“Ivy, what do I do?”

“You make them pay the price for threatening your daughter. Shopkeeper will understand. I’d gladly help you.”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to kill the secret police.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“I think I’d rather do it myself, if I do it at all.”

“Alright. Just know that the offer still stands.”

Ivy left her fellow assassin to her thoughts.

She’s making revenge sound really nice…
But Ivy’s always so hot-headed, so should I really listen to her advice?

Monday, November 5th, 1962

Yor’s heart was racing. The surgery had gone well, but it was a small comfort. Anya looked so small, sleeping in the hospital bed. The clock read 1:00 AM. She was completely conked out from all the drugs they’d ran through her IV. Thanks to both her hands being in casts, they had to put the IV into her neck.

Yor whispered to herself.
“My sweet baby…how could they hurt her like this?”

She leaned over her daughter’s bed to brush her hair away from the IV. Her eyes caught a glimpse of black ink in her skin, towards her nape. Moving the hair further, Yor saw three numbers.

007

She froze.

Anya has a tattoo?
I’ve never seen it before. She’s way too young for one. Surely Loid would have told me.

Yor stepped away from the bed so she wouldn’t hurt her daughter.

I've been her mother for eight years and I've never seen it. It must be new.
The secret police did this!
It’s like Ivy said. They’ve marked her as someone to watch.

Something in Yor snapped. Hands shaking, she quickly scribbled out a note to Loid for when he returned from the restroom.
I’m going to go home to grab Director Chimera for Anya. Be back soon.
With that, the Thorn Princess leaped out the fifth story window of the hospital, landing with a soft thud.

Remember what Shopkeeper says.
“Don’t let your morals prevent you from doing what is right.”
I’m sorry Sylvia. I’m sorry Oleander.
Your people hurt my daughter.
And I’ll water the ground with their blood.

Chapter Text

Sunday, November 4th, 1962

Nightfall was bored. One would assume that she could relieve her boredom with the endless backlog of side missions WISE needed doing, but Nightfall was relegated to mere administrative paperwork duty—and the occasional recon mission—ever since her debacle with Wheeler eight years prior. Thanks to her stubborn refusal to rest, she turned what would have otherwise been an easily healed fracture into a severe and permanent limp in her right leg. To add insult to injury, that fight shattered every bone in both arms. And as she hadn’t let them heal either, Nightfall’s arms were forever wracked with pain whenever she shot a gun or landed a punch. She still believed she could manage on missions, but her Handler would never assign them.

All that goes to say is that the story of Nightfall, the once-great spy trained by Twilight himself, was an urban legend used at WISE to scare rookies. “This is what happens if you don’t allow yourself time to heal from injuries.” Yeah, Nightfall gets it, she doesn’t need it rubbed in by becoming a cautionary tale. She was foolish to think that her love for Twilight or her training to fight Yor Briar would be enough to save her. She couldn’t even do a simple infiltration mission these days, because her limp would give her away in an instant. Her attempt to win Twilight’s affection through overwork had ultimately done little more than permanently throw more work onto his plate, as he was now covering for her missions. Not only that, but her attempts at usurping Yor Briar’s role as wife had gained the attention of Handler, who chastised her for allowing her feelings to get in the way of Operation Strix. Nightfall, brazen as she was, had ignored this warning and continued interfering. Handler’s response was to appoint Agent Sundown to be Fiona Frost’s “boyfriend”, so that any attempts Nightfall may have made to win over Twilight would have resulted in her civilian identity’s reputation being tarnished. Damnit, Handler. With the resulting extra work of a civilian identity on Sundown’s plate, he too was made more busy and thus, Twilight’s workload increased even further. 

With the realization that her attempts at loving Twilight were really only making things worse for him, along with her acceptance that he was madly in love with his “cover” wife, Nightfall had, over the years, made peace with the fact that pursuing her love wouldn’t work. She would even go so far as to not deny that she felt something for Sundown.

Nightfall was bored, and Fiona Frost was no different. As far as cover identities go, the hospital clerk did not have a particularly interesting life either. Nightfall understood that the identity of Fiona Frost was a necessary supporting role for Twilight, so she didn't complain. Answer calls, schedule appointments, explain to distraught mothers that no, your child’s papercut is not a medical emergency.

Currently, the distraught mother in question is Yor Briar.
She can wait her tur–

Oh.

Looking at Anya Forger, Nightfall quickly realized the situation at hand.
torturedsecretpolicestrixcompromisedextracttwilightnow–

Speaking of Twilight, here he is.
“   Fiona,    how    fast can you get    a    surgery scheduled            for her?”
“Day went south, ran    into    the state security service,   tell    Handler.”

“We should be able  to  get   her in   in       about       an        hour,        Doctor.”
“Oui.     Yuri   Briar do this? Hit on Strix? Pull out? They drown her? In danger?”

Twilight responded to her onslaught of questions with a yes, no, no, yes, no, which sent Nightfall’s mind racing.
What’s Briar up to?
Is he trying to expose Twilight?
…does Yor Briar have something to do with it?
It’s not like Yuri Briar would try anything against Anya Forger without her permission.
Were we wrong in our assessment? Could Yor Briar be a threat to Strix?

Nightfall watched Yor Briar from afar as she sat in the waiting room. She seemed antsy, anxious.
Is this truly what a worried mother looks like? Or is she playing it up?
Has she been acting as a worried mother for years? Quite the impressive long-con. Worthy of Twilight, I dare say, if she’s been able to slip this past him for so long.
Why are the Briars acting now, of all times? Did they finally get conclusive evidence for Loid Forger as Twilight’s alias? If so, why did Anya Forger pay the price, and not him?

“Fiona, can I speak with you in my office?”

“Of course, Doctor.”
Picking up her cane and following Twilight into his office, Nightfall was met with her Handler, and their Dusk Squad compatriots, “Steven Sherwood” (Eventide) and “Alex Anderson” (Sundown). 

“Hey, Nightfall! Good to see you! How’s that leg of yours that you didn’t rest when I told you to?”
Eventide really should have retired by now, but he was determined to work as the “banterous grandpa” of the WISE office until he dropped dead. The moustached man’s cheer was not matched by anyone else in the room.

“Not the time, Eventide. This is a serious matter.”

“Geez, who pissed in your cereal, Sylvia?”

“The State Security Service did. Twilight, explain what happened.”

“Yuri Briar took my daughter on a walk to the park and got called away on urgent SSS business while there. He brought Anya with him, where she was interrogated due to her unique hair color—they assumed she was some form of youth anarchist due to her dyed hair. She was released after they realized her hair was natural, but by then they had already pulled out her fingernails and broken her fingers. I suspect she was waterboarded as well. I…yelled at Yuri to uphold the image of Loid Forger as a protective, loving, and caring father, and I…may have gone too far. Put simply, he now knows that Loid Forger is aware of his job at the SSS. Luckily, he does not suspect me of being a spy, and my wife is unaware of her brother’s involvement in today’s events.”

Eventide and Sundown were both shocked, while Nightfall shared a glance with her Handler that said, “there’s something he’s not telling us”, which Handler voiced.
“Did Briar tell you that’s what happened?”

“Yes, and Anya confirmed it. I was suspicious at first too, but my daughter is very good at reading people, she is very difficult to deceive—even for me. If she says that that’s why she was arrested, I’ll believe her.”

Sundown spoke up.
“Are you sure that he hadn’t threatened her into agreement?”

“I gave Anya the perfect chance to say so, because I had my gun out. She could’ve spoken up about his threat and he’d be dead in an instant. Instead, she got in the way and said that it wasn’t his fault.”

Eventide exclaimed, “Twi-Guy, you almost shot an SSS officer!?”

“The bastard deserved it! Yor trusted him to watch over her! He took his eyes off her for maybe half an hour, and she got tortured!”

Sundown threw his cap at Twilight.

Handler facepalmed. Nightfall shared her sentiment, although not outwardly showing it.
Men.

“Excuse me, I need to check on my family.” Twilight says as politely as he could muster while storming out of the room like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

Eventide waits a good ten seconds to make sure he’s not coming back.
“So we can agree that he’s either stupid, blind, or lying, right?”

“Yep.”

“For sure.”

Handler gets straight to delegating tasks.
“With Yuri Briar now aware that Loid Forger knows his true job, we have a valuable piece of blackmail on him. Nightfall, you need to ensure that Yor Forger does not find out what her brother does, or we will lose that blackmail. Tail her. She cannot know that he works for the SSS, especially if he’s responsible for today’s events.

Eventide, see if you can get Anya to talk about what happened once she’s out of surgery, she might tell you more because of your “Friendly Grandpa" demeanor, I think she trusts you with things she'd never tell Twilight.

Sundown, you’ll be tailing Yuri Briar. Report any suspicious contacts he makes. We need to know if he truly suspects Twilight or not. However, do not tail him into the SSS HQ. That’s far too risky.”

Sundown’s task seems… pointless.
“Handler, with all due respect, if Yuri Briar suspects Twilight, his work is going to be the place he talks about it. How are we supposed to know if he says something there?”

Handler took a deep breath, before letting out a single word.
“Midnight.”
The room went silent.

The so-called “Man Without a Face", Agent Midnight’s identity is a secret to even his fellow agents, with only Handler herself knowing his true face. Nothing more than a name, Midnight was something of WISE legend.
His identity is kept under such tight lock-and-key that his face, race, build, skills, age, and even mission history are a mystery. Not even Handler’s bosses knew who Midnight was. Twilight had outright said he didn’t believe there was an Agent Midnight—perhaps because Mr. “Ignorance is Weakness” didn't want to consider that there was information that even he couldn't know.

Midnight is one of WISE’s longest active agents, having joined ninteen years ago—a year before even Twilight himself. He had been placed as a mole in the State Security Service some time ago. Despite that, Midnight was not to relay information (except in cases of extreme urgency) as he could be compromised. His ability to act on SSS operations is considered more valuable than any information he could give. For example, during the operation to retrieve Wheeler, Twilight was exposed as the fake Wheeler due to the color of his tiepin. Apparently Midnight was aware of there being no correct color, but had said yellow, using the chance to frame one of the SSS communication guys as a mole to cause havoc and throw suspicion away from himself.

All that goes to say is that getting information from Midnight was a huge risk, as any information from the SSS landing in WISE’s hands could influence operations, resulting in the SSS realizing there was an info leak. 

“Are…you sure about this, Sylvia?”
Nightfall shared Eventide’s apprehension, although she didn’t voice it

“Yes. We can’t risk Yuri Briar discovering Twilight, so we need all the info we can get. Loid Forger’s position is far too valuable, he provides too much intel and sway as a member of high society. And if the Prime Minister finds out his closest confidant is a spy? There’s no doubt that he would take that as a direct attack on Ostania, and use it to declare war.”

Handler's tone was sobering.

With a bug in her hand, Nightfall opened the door to the room with Yor and Anya Forger.
“We’re all ready for you, Miss Forger.”

Yor Briar reassured her daughter.
“You can do this. It won’t hurt as bad as whatever those bad guys did to you!”

I will find out if you're a threat to Strix.
“She's in good hands."
Nightfall planted the bug on Yor Briar’s shoulder.
I won't let this woman hurt Twilight's daughter.

Anya seemed determined.
“I’m ready.”

Nightfall sat at her desk, typing up a report. She didn’t particularly care for its contents—although the report was flawless nonetheless—as her mind was elsewhere. Specifically, her mind was focused on her earpiece, listening in on Yor Briar. She was conversing in hushed whispers with a woman Nightfall did not know. The woman was instantly suspicious, given that she had arrived with Franklin.

“I’m so sorry this happened, Yor.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I know better than most what it's like to lose someone to the SSS. You almost did today. This isn’t the kind of thing your daughter will just be able to shrug off, she’s not invincible like you are.”

Yor Briar, invincible? Nightfall scoffed.

“Plus, you get in the eyes of the SSS once, they never stop looking. If they decide to throw a criminal record on her, she'll struggle to get a job for life. Unemployment hit hard for me once I got charged. Do you want your daughter to suffer like that?”

A fantastic point, but… just what was this woman charged with?

“Ivy, what do I do?”

“You make them pay the price for threatening your daughter. Shopkeeper will understand. I’d gladly help you.”

Shopkeeper?

“You’re just looking for an excuse to kill the secret police.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“I think I’d rather do it myself, if I do it at all.”

“Alright. Just know that the offer still stands.”

Nightfall was confused. Perplexed. Bewildered. Yor Briar, so casually discussing murder?

She must have noticed the bug. She’s trying to play up her anger at the SSS for me.

Monday, November 5th, 1962

Nightfall continued to listen in on Yor Briar for hours, with little to show for it. It had long since passed midnight.

“My sweet baby…how could they hurt her like this?”

The bug then picked up the sound of a scratching pen on paper, a window opening, a rush of wind, and then the light touch of feet on the ground.

That perked the spy’s attention.
Did she just–
Jump out of a window?
She would only have reason to do that if she wanted to exit discreetly.
Why would she care if people saw her leave?

She’s going to report to the SSS about today!

Nightfall grabbed a gun (it hurts to shoot, but she’ll manage), her cane (has a blade along its length, which she is surprisingly adept at using), and a black wig (Fiona Frost’s platinum blonde hair is too distinct) before running out of the hospital after Yor Briar as fast as she could.

Yor Briar is surprisingly fast.

Luckily for Nightfall, tailing missions were about the only field missions she was still assigned. She could be fast when she wanted to—even if it left her aching for days. Plus, how could the disabled woman who might be following you be a spy? Wouldn’t a spy want to be more inconspicuous? It was the perfect setup to follow unnoticed.

The way Yor Briar was walking was hurried. As if she wanted to run, but didn’t want to attract the attention that doing so would invite.

Why such a hurry, Briar? Got an appointment you might miss?

With each turn, Nightfall became more and more certain of the destination: Yor Briar was going to the SSS HQ.

I knew it. She’s going to turn in Twilight.

As the spy prepared to take a photograph of the woman outside the building for Handler, Briar paused. Reaching into the pockets of her dress, she pulled out a pair of… knives?

Long, pointed, golden stiletto knives, each with a ring on the back end. Rings that Yor Briar looped her fingers into and rapidly spun around in her hands, before catching them with an expertise Nightfall knows all too well, one that suggested she had done so, many, many, many times before.

What.

Yor Briar—no, this is not Yor Briar, this is a demon in human flesh—walked up to the entrance of the SSS HQ, kicked down the door—the reinforced steel door—and walked straight into the lion’s den.

Nightfall’s earpiece crackled to life, and a woman’s voice came through.
The familiar voice of Yor Briar, but twisted. Darkened. Evil. Downright murderous.
No wonder she had discussed murder so casually earlier.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I’m terribly sorry for the interruption, but may I have the honor of taking your lives?”

There was a gunshot, the ding of metal, and the groan of a man grievously wounded. No sound of footsteps.
Did she just reflect a bullet?

Her voice continued.
“Actually, there is no honor in taking your life, I’m not sorry for the interruption, you are not gentlemen, and this evening is only good because it marks your death. You tortured my daughter, and god knows how many others. Goodbye.”

“Come in, Lieutenant! We’re under attack! Do you copy? There’s a woman with long black hair an–”
The officer’s plea for help was cut off by a stiletto through his throat.

A cacophony of sounds came through the bug. A swish of fabric, light footsteps, and the spluttering of liquid accompanied by cries, screams, and groans. However, notably absent was the sound of heavy breathing. Twilight’s cover wife was barely breaking a sweat as she murdered a dozen highly trained men in cold blood. The sound of gunshots was plentiful, but given that the rampage continued, none had hit their mark.

Until one did…almost.
It hadn’t actually hit the vengeful mother, but rather grazed her shoulder, taking Nightfall’s bug with it.

The spy was stunned silent—as was her earpiece.
Yor Briar, the kind and caring mother, was clearly a very experienced killer. She was not affiliated with the SSS, she most certainly did not know of her brother’s true job, she was not behind the torture of Anya Forger, and most importantly:

If she finds out that Twilight has been using Anya Forger for a mission, he’s dead.

Nightfall shook with fear. The phrase this woman had uttered had sent chills down her spine, as if she knew that it was one that countless men had heard just before their death.
“May I have the honor of taking your life?”

Yor Briar is a cold-hearted murderer. Why the hell is she so experienced at killing? What reason would she have had to kill so much in the past? She’s a goddamn psychopath! If I can’t deal with her now, Twilight will pay the price. 

From a distance, Nightfall looked through the door that this woman had kicked down and saw a lack of movement and an assortment of corpses. It seemed she had moved on. Cautiously, she approached the entrance and walked into the belly of the beast.

████ was no stranger to blood.

████ was eight. She lived with her parents and twin brother in Posseckt, a small village straddling the border of Ostania and Westalis near the border of Slovakoczechia. She dreamed of becoming an actress. He dreamed of becoming a professional fencer. She thought he would make a great actor. He thought she would make a great fencer. She was as good at swordfighting as he was, if not better. He was incredibly dramatic while he fought, saying things like “while you were cutting your hair, I was studying the blade!”, as if he was a character in a Spearshakes play. Despite their differing interests, the two were close. They were strangers to blood.

████ was nine. To her, blood was merely a side effect of a game that she and her brother played. They pretended sticks were swords, and they sparred. They had done it their entire lives, but now that her brother had begun growing, he was quite strong, and he didn’t know how to hold back. However, he also didn’t really care. If ████ was bleeding, it meant that he was winning. It meant that he was stronger. That isn’t to say she didn’t enjoy these spars too. Afterall, her brother could bleed too. Therefore, she was no stranger to blood.

████ was ten. “Westalians are evil!”, said the neighborhood kids to the east. ████’s father was a Westalian, so she didn’t get along with them. “Ostanians are monsters!”, said the neighborhood kids to the west. ████’s mother was an Ostanian, so she didn’t get along with them either. She got into fights with all of them. She didn’t enjoy it, this was no friendly spar with her brother. They made her bleed. Her brother fought them too, but he loved every second of it. He bled, but not as much as she had. So he was stronger. She was no stranger to blood.

████ was eleven. The grownups talked of war. ████’s mother wanted them to move away from the border, the risk was too high. East or West, didn’t care, as long as they weren’t near the front lines. ████’s father was having none of it. The war was to the north. It wouldn’t touch here, no one cared about this tiny village. He beat his wife for even daring to suggest that she knew better than him. ████’s mother bled. Her brother averted his eyes, but ████ watched on, hurting for her mother, feeling as if she herself was bleeding on the inside. She was no stranger to blood.

████ was twelve. East and West were fighting. Pick a side, they said. ████ couldn’t pick a side. How could she, when her family was on the very line? Yet even they picked sides. Her mother spoke of the evils the Westalians were doing. Her father spoke of the crimes the Ostanians had committed. They fought. They bled. Her brother had become cynical growing up with war. He believed they were both wrong. That both sides had committed great horrors. That humanity was inherently evil. That Ostania and Westalis were both bad in and of themselves and needed to be uprooted. ████’s parents stared at him in confusion. And yet, they still fought, and bled. Meanwhile, ████ fought with her brother, as she stubbornly saw the inherent good in humanity. They both bled. She was no stranger to blood.

████ was thirteen. Her parents had had enough. The household’s tension had grown too thick. So they split. They both wanted to keep their children. So they fought. And they bled. With no better option, they decided to each take one child. ████ was to go with her father to Frankfurnt, in the West. Her brother went with her mother, to Dresdent, in the East. ████ didn’t care that she would be separated from her brother. He was tiring to be around. He had grown to care too much about strength. Ultimately, she realized her brother was a psychopath. They sparred one last time before moving away, but it was not a friendly one. She supported Westalis. He supported Ostania. Insults and threats had been flung. “I thought you and I were the same”, he had said, as he realized that his sister didn’t enjoy killing, didn’t enjoy death, didn’t enjoy bloodshed. The spar ended with ████’s stick embedded deep into her brother’s right knee. He would likely never walk right again. Both twins had blood streaking through their ash-gray hair. It hurt, physically and mentally. She cried, and he called her weak for it. She was no stranger to blood.

████ was fourteen. She bled from her insides out. Was she dying? What could she do? She tried to ask her father to take her to the doctor. “We don’t have the money for that”, he had said, while drinking expensive alcohol. She had asked again. “The hospitals are for the soldiers”, he had said, despite opposing the war. She had asked once more, desperate. He had had enough, giving her a black eye as opposed to a ride to the hospital. The blood dripped from her mouth, so she resigned herself to her fate. And yet, she survived, the blood stopping after a week. It returned a month later. She was no stranger to blood.

████ was fifteen. She was no longer bleeding on a monthly basis. She wished she still was. She wished she and her brother had swapped places, political positions be damned. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about their drunken father getting him pregnant. But her brother is dead. Westalis—the country she had fought with and split away from her brother to support—just firebombed Dresdent to hell and back. Nine in ten died. She had stabbed him deep in the knee last time they saw each other, so there was no way her brother could’ve outrun the bombs. She killed him, her own brother. She sobbed, tired of war. “Stop it with the damn emotions!”, her father had said, striking her across the face. That night, ████ had left her father’s house with a bloody nose and all she could carry—including the child inside of her. She was no stranger to blood.

████ was almost sixteen. She was homeless in Bonnt, as far away from her father as she could reasonably get in her state. He might not even be alive, because Frankfurnt had been bombed heavily in the months since she had run away, but she took no chances. She had nothing. No family. No belongings. No hopes, no dreams. She may have once dreamed of acting, but now all the acting she did was pretending to be okay, and all she dreamed of was the day she would finally be dead. She gave birth on the streets of Bonnt. ████ left as soon as she could stand, leaving an infant and a pool of blood in her wake. She was no stranger to blood.

████ was barely sixteen. The authorities had arrested her for child manslaughter via abandonment. She didn’t care. Her brother was right. There was no inherent good in humanity. She was spared from charges so long as she joined the Westalis Intelligence Agency. Her hands would get bloodier, but does that matter? Afterall, she was no stranger to blood.

The girl now called Nightfall was sixteen. She killed her first man. A terrorist, planning to assassinate the Prime Minister of Westalis. It was a bloody endeavor. Her superiors lauded her for succeeding in such an important mission while still so early in training. She didn’t listen, she understood that they had thrown her at that mission expecting her to die. She didn’t care that she was teenage cannon fodder. She just waited. Waited for her next run in with blood. She was no stranger to blood.

Nightfall was eighteen. She had lied for peace, stolen for peace, killed for peace. She spilled blood for peace. She almost died for peace, time and time again. She was nearly left to bleed out in a warehouse in Lamburg. She would have bled out if it weren’t for her mentor, the twenty-two year old Agent Twilight who had defied orders to return, covered in blood, for her. She was no stranger to blood, and neither was he.

Nightfall was twenty-four. She destroyed her body in the name of peace. She became a bloody pile of broken limbs in the name of peace. She beat Winston Wheeler into a bloody pulp in the name of peace. She never healed from that fight, thanks to her own hubris. Like her brother, she would never walk right again. And still, she was no stranger to blood.

Nightfall is thirty-two. She is no stranger to blood.

She is no stranger to blood. She is standing inside of the headquarters of the State Security Service, surrounded by corpses. She is no stranger to blood, she thinks, as the stench of freshly spilt blood permeates the air. She is no stranger to blood, and yet she gags, retches, and vomits from the sight surrounding her. 

Nightfall is no stranger to blood. She is no stranger to death. She is no stranger to suffering, to misery, to pain. And yet, she is horrified as she stands surrounded by a dozen men, dead by stab wounds to their skull or neck.
Nightfall is no stranger to blood.

She wished she was.

Despite the carnage, it seemed that the killer had taken extra care to make their deaths as painless as possible.
Why? If she was doing this out of revenge, wouldn’t she want them to suffer?
There’s… so much blood.
I can’t let my squeamishness stop me from saving Twilight.
Pull yourself together, ████!

Alarms blared, warning of an intruder.
Nightfall drew her gun and left the room, following the trail of death and destruction.

She passed a man with a hole in his forehead, dripping deceptively little blood.
She passed a man with a slash across his neck, so deep that his head seemed connected by a mere thread.
She passed a man lying in a pool of his own blood, coming from a trio of stab wounds in his chest.

Were any of these men innocent?
Were any of these men Midnight?
Were any of them friends of Yuri Briar’s?

Her handler’s words echoed in her head.
“Ensure that Yor Forger does not find out what her brother does.”

The carnage told Nightfall one more thing, that this woman had no idea of her brother's true profession.

She would not dare risk hurting him.

It was only a matter of time until she would, if she kept up this bloodbath.
Nightfall hurried through the halls, trying to ignore the increasingly gruesome kills she passed. The mercy that this rampage had started with was no more.
These look downright sadistic. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my brother did this.
My brother… How long has it been since I’ve even thought of him?

Before long, she heard a voice yelling. The same grim and murderous tone that twisted Yor Briar’s voice earlier, but now that Nightfall was hearing it in person? She was petrified.
“YOU TORTURED MY DAUGHTER! HER PRECIOUS LITTLE FINGERS ARE BROKEN, SHE’S IN THE HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW! HOW IS THIS JUST? HOW IS THIS OKAY?”

Although Nightfall heard gunshots earlier, she heard none now. All she heard was the cling of metal on metal, and the clattering of a gun knocked to the ground.
Her victims died before they could even shoot, let alone scream.

She could stroll into WISE HQ and kill every last one of us.
She would stroll into WISE HQ and kill every last one of us, if she thought we were hurting Anya.

Nightfall shook in fear. Cold, raw, pure, fear.

I’m sorry, Twilight. For the sake of Strix, for the sake of WISE, for the sake of peace itself, and for the sake of your life…
Your wife will need to die.

Nightfall peered around the corner, gun raised.

She saw the killer, her back turned, holding up a man by his neck.
“This is for my Anya.”, she let out in a low, dangerous whisper that nonetheless carried to Nightfall’s ears.
She forced her stiletto through his eye, then through the other, before stabbing it into his mouth.

Don’t think about how that could be me. Don’t think about how that could be me. Don’t think about how that could be me.
Now’s my chance.

She shot thrice, ignoring the searing pain in her arm from the gun’s recoil.

Her target spun around and ducked in an instant, allowing the first bullet to strike the man she had been killing. She struck the next two in midair with her blade, sending one into the body of a man who had entered the room at a very bad time, and the other straight past Nightfall’s ear. The spy barely had a chance to react before her foe had removed one of her spiked earrings and threw it like a dart straight at her face.

Nightfall moved out of the way not a moment too soon, the projectile leaving a trail of blood across her cheek. 

Oh, fuck. I don’t stand a chance, do I?

The spy’s body screamed at her as she felt a thrown blade embed itself in her arm.

Ripping the stiletto out of the face of the man who was very much dead, the demon in the body of a woman sprinted towards Nightfall.

You can still fight, limp be damned. Handler may not believe it, but this will be the proof you’ll need. Who cares if there's a knife in your arm? Pain is for lesser spies.

She lifted her cane and swung it towards her rapidly advancing adversary. Clearly not expecting a melee confrontation, the red-eyed woman allowed the cane to strike her stiletto with force enough to cause her to miss and stab six inches deep into the wall as if it was butter.
“I’m sorry.” Nightfall pulled the trigger once more, firing a bullet into the woman’s chest, who yelled out in pain, before kicking the gun out of the spy’s hand.

A direct gunshot didn’t kill her–?

She yanked the stiletto out of the wall and held it to Nightfall’s neck.
“You’re not with them. Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“They call me Nightshade, the Thorn Princess. Now answer me.”

The Thorn Princess. What a terrifying and beautiful name.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you tha–”

They were interrupted by a squad of SSS officers entering the room.

Nightfall internally thanked whatever deity there might be left for the distraction, as this beast pulled her weapon out of Nightfall’s arm, before turning on a dime and pouncing. All of them were dead in the blink of an eye. Nightfall took her chance and fled.
She’s far too strong to kill in combat. She didn’t recognize me, so I’ll just have to poison her once she gets back to the hospital.

Nightfall didn’t make it back to the hospital. In her haste to get away from Twilight’s wife, Nightfall ran straight into a squad of men. All pointing guns. Straight at her face.

One of them spoke into his radio.
“This is team Bravo, we’ve found the black-haired woman.”

Due to her Handler’s reluctance to put her on field missions, it had been a long, long time since Nightfall had last sat on the wrong end of an interrogation table. Nonetheless, here she was, being interrogated by… Hat Guy, with Note Dude taking notes off to the side. Nightfall had no idea what their names actually were, so she just referred to them by that in her head. All she knew was that both men were commanders of the SSS.
Seems they’re really bringing out the big guns for this interrogation. They’re scared. Desperate, even.

“So, Nightfall, is it? You’ve put on a most impressive display.”

She remained silent.
How would they know who I am?

Hat Guy grabbed her by the hair and pulled, taking her black wig with it. The platinum-blonde hair of Fiona Frost shone in the harsh light from above. “A little birdie told us that Nightfall was WISE’s greatest combatant. That would be you, wouldn’t it? Few have the strength to kill so many so easily. I daresay it’s impressive.”

So we have a mole problem. Although the mole is either lying or behind the times. Interesting. While I might not be able to kill Yor Briar, there are other ways of getting her out of the picture…
“I didn’t kill those men. However much I may wish, I unfortunately bear the burden of self control.”

Hat Guy raised an eyebrow.
“You mean to tell me that there is another long black-haired woman with a sword rampaging through our headquarters?”

A thought hit the spy like a truck.
When someone is arrested by the SSS, nine times out of ten their family is too. If they were to learn what she did here tonight, Twilight would pay for it. I…
My hands are tied.

Nightfall remained silent, and received a fist to the face. She didn’t bother to even yell out in pain. It’s how Twilight had trained her. In an interrogation, don’t say anything.
Don’t try to be smart, don’t try to be cocky, just sit there and take it. They thrive off of reactions.
She spat blood onto the table. 

They were interrupted as a third guy (Beard Man?) entered the room and slammed a photograph of her on the table.
“Found her in our records. Fiona Frost. Hospital clerk at Berlint General.”
Great. Another man I’ll need to make sure dies.

“What’s your goal, Nightfall? Why the massacre?”

Silence.
Her hair was grabbed and her face slammed into the table.
“Is this Starlight’s retribution or something?”

Note Dude complained to Hat Guy.
“I swear, the one time we finally catch a spy, she escapes and sends her coworker to kill us all in a day! What the hell, dude!”

These comments sent Nightfall’s mind racing.
Who the hell is Starlight? We don’t even have a Starlight. Something’s happened…
Doesn’t Anya Forger call herself Starlight Anya?
She got arrested today… Did she lie about why?
It can't be that they suspect Twilight, because then they would just arrest him.
Did they think that she was a spy, because that silly nickname resembles WISE codenames?

If they think that she was responsible for the killing, then the Thorn Princess will be left unchecked, so they’ll all be dead sooner or later anyway.
Twilight’s training to stay silent assumes that the interrogators will live. Hat Guy talks. So. Much. I bet I can get him to reveal stuff without even realizing it.
“We don’t have a Starlight.”

“Oh, really? Little brat, probably twelve years old or so, gave us real trouble. Doesn’t ring a bell? I didn’t have the pleasure of torturing her myself, sadly, I only heard about it secondhand.”

Bingo. Thanks for the intel. Sounds like Anya Forger to me.
Which means she escaped. She's in danger.
“You take pleasure in torturing kids? Sick fuck.”

None of the three men commented on that.
“I won’t ask again. Why? What does WISE gain through this extermination?”
If I allude to the fact that the extermination is still happening, they might stand a chance to beat her. Can’t have that happening, she’s my ticket out.
Nightfall was silent. Beard Man grabbed her arm and pulled until it dislocated, which, due to having happened before, came out quite easily… and therefore, rather painlessly.
Honestly? It barely hurt. 

She stared, unimpressed.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Note Dude seemed unnerved, but his thoughts were likely interrupted when the door to the room opened, with their very angry superior—Chief Mustache?—standing there.
“Have you gotten anything from her yet?”

“No. She won’t budge.”

“You realize that this could mean war, right? We need to know what WISE is trying to gain from this, and now. Get 002.”

What’s 002?

As Nightfall soon learned, while being stared down by Mustache, the correct question to ask was who is 002. Note Dude opened the door, and Hat Guy and Beard Man dragged in a woman—no, a girl. A teenager, probably around sixteen. 

She had long orangish-red hair that looked like it had never been cut nor brushed in her life. Her skin was a sickly pale white as if she'd never seen the sun. She had eyes a dull blue-green, that when combined with her hair, eerily reminded Nightfall of her Handler.

This girl looked as if she were simply awaiting the day she would be dead. A look Nightfall remembered only too well, one that had looked back on her whenever ████ gazed into a bloody puddle on the streets of Bonnt.
Who is this?
What have they done to her? 

She was roughly shoved into the chair across from Nightfall, the girl’s shackled hands brought onto the table.
“Make her spill WISE’s plans. Why did they order this attack?”

The girl (002?) gently placed her hands on Nightfall’s, and made eye contact.
A soft and meek voice entered her head.
“Do you copy?”

Nightfall practically jumped out of her seat.
What. The hell. Is happening.

“Sorry, it’s one-way. I can’t hear what you’re thinking, if you’re wondering that. I’m just making you hear things. Psychic illusion abilities. Nod if it's working.”

Cautiously, Nightfall nodded.

“Since I can also make you see and feel things, they want me to make you experience indescribable pain until you spill whatever it is they want you to spill.”

Nightfall tensed.

“Don’t worry. These fuckwads really think I’d willingly help them when they keep me under lock-and-key like a weapon? Whenever they’re not using me, they pretend I don’t exist, so that the West won’t learn about me. Not to be a downer, but… unless it’s really really important for someone to stay alive, they kill anyone they use me on, for the sake of keeping me a secret. Only a few people know about me, and most of them are around us right now. Just sit tight, I’m making it look to them like you’re writhing and screaming in agony.”

The spy didn’t know if she could trust this psychic teenager, but she didn’t exactly have a choice. The grip on her hands got tighter, and the onlooking SSS men smiled sadistically.

“I’ve always let them believe that I need skin-to-skin contact to do my thing, so they have no idea they’re the ones I’m doing this to.”

Nightfall was surprised.
This kid’s smart.

A minute passed.

“You can talk by the way, they won’t hear you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ophelia, although they’ve never used it. Yours?”

“I… don’t have one. Not anymore.”

“So you’re actually a spy?”

“Yes.”

“You’re actually admitting it?”

“I’ll be out of here before long, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

Nightfall nods.

“Well, if you do get out… Can you do me a favor? Work your hardest to topple the SSS. Every one of them I’ve met is a corrupt bastard who loves to oppress and cause pain and nothing more.”

“When I get out of here, I’m bringing you with me.”

“No.”

“What?”

“If I’m gone, they’ll use real torture in my stead. I’m not going to let people suffer just because I want freedom.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Maybe. You’d be crazy too if you were in my place.”

A beat.

“I’m going to stop the illusion soon. I assume you can act as though this was you?”

Nightfall’s vision went dark, and she instead saw herself in the eyes of her interrogators. Forcibly seeing a tortured version of herself in her mind’s eye was… disconcerting, to say the least.

“Can you tell them something, even if it’s a lie? I just… if they realize I’m not actually willing to extract information, then they’ll just stop using me, and again, use real torture.”

Nightfall nods once more and Ophelia pulls her hands away, and Nightfall grits her teeth, allowing tears to come to her eyes. She looks up at her captors.
“Please,” she choked back a fake sob, “make her stop. Don’t do it again. Please. I’ll…I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Mustache smiled. “Perhaps we can have a little talk.” He looked at Note Dude.
“Take 002 back, it doesn’t need to hear state secrets.”

It? She’s a human. Sick fuck.

As soon as they left the room, Nightfall started talking.

“It’s a distraction. It’s too hard to work in this country with so much surveillance, so I’m supposed to keep you guys occupied tonight while we take out as many of your snitches as possible. Once I’d cleaned out the HQ, I was supposed to burn all your records to put a pause on your operations for as long as possible. We need you off our backs.”

“Why? What is WISE planning that we need to be blind to?”

“We’re staging an operation tomorrow, breaking into the Desmond Estate to discover if he has any correspondence suggesting he wants to start a war.”

The man looked pleased with himself.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Thank you, Miss ‘Frost’. Now. Care to explain why the West is infiltrating our hospital?”

Nightfall opened her mouth to lay down a lie, but she was interrupted, because Note Dude entered the room. That is, by his corpse being launched through the door, knocking it off its hinges.

Everyone in the room—hold Nightfall—immediately stood up in shock.
Everyone in the room—hold Nightfall—immediately fell to the ground, each with a stiletto embedded in their forehead.
How many of those does she carry?

“Miss, are you alright? I’ll get you out of here, I promi–FIONA?”

Nightfall nodded.
“Mrs. Forger.”

“What are you doing here? Did they–no, don’t tell me they… Were they not satisfied with Anya, so they went after her aunt too?”

Nightfall mentally facepalmed.
“You do realize that I’m not related to your daughter in any way, biologically or legally?”

The woman didn’t seem to hear her, too transfixed on the swelling cut along Nightfall’s cheek.
“Wait, you’re that woman from earlier!”

Oh. Oh no. sheknowsrunfleeabort–

“I’m so sorry, Fiona! I didn’t know it was you, I swear!”

Huh?
“Yor. I… I shot you.”

“Yeah, misunderstandings happen.”
Yor Forger ripped the handcuffs off the spy’s wrists with little effort.

How strong is she…?
“I was trying to kill you.”

“Who wouldn’t? You saw the wife of a close friend killing people! You wanted to protect Loid, right?”

Yes, that is what I was trying to do, but–

Yor Forger cut her thoughts off.
“OH MY GOD. FIONA, YOU CAN’T TELL LOID ABOUT THIS! PLEASE.”

She raised an eyebrow.
I’ll absolutely be telling him.

“I’m serious! You can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. It’s Garden policy to kill anyone who knows our identities, and I really really really don’t want to kill you. I hate killing good people—that’s what Garden is about, we prune the worst people from society for the betterment of all. B–but you’re a good person! I don’t want to kill you, even if you’re a witness.”

She thinks I’m a good person. If only she knew…
Wait, did she say Garden? Oh, I am so out of my league. Killing her is out of the question. I can’t even tell Handler about her, can I? She’d tell Twilight, and Twilight would act weird around his wife, and then she’d know I snitched, and then I’d be dead…
“Alright, I get the idea. My lips are sealed.”

“Thank you so, so, so much. C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”
With that, the assassin—oh my god, Yor Forger is an assassin—lifted Nightfall effortlessly before she was interrupted.

“Yor, slow down. I can walk.”

“Are you sure? Didn’t they take your cane when they arrested you?”

Yor pondered to herself for a second, setting Nightfall down, who grabbed her cane from near Hat Guy’s corpse. Nightfall didn’t flinch, despite the pain in her arm from where she had been stabbed. Yor continued talking.
“Wait, no, hold on, you were already here. What were you doing?”

Nightfall spoke as she ripped a length of fabric off the uniform of one of the fallen men, and tied it tightly around her arm wound as best as she could with a single hand.
“Following you. It’s awfully suspicious to leap out the fifth story window after midnight.”

“Oh! I was so lost in my thoughts I must’ve not noticed you… did… did anyone else see?”

“No, your husband didn’t see anything.”

“Phew. Yeah, I was, uh. Uhm–”

“Going to murder dozens of secret police officers?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds bad. Th–they tortured my Anya! All because of her hair being pink! I needed to teach them a lesson.”

“Yor, that’s not what happened.”

“Huh?”

“You say that Anya was arrested for her hair. Your husband told you. Your brother told him. Your daughter told him. But someone in that chain has lied. The SSS does not arrest people for exotic hair colors. If they did, I would know it. My hair’s far more clearly dyed than hers—that’s why I was wearing a wig when I followed you—and yet I’ve never been given trouble for my hair.”

“Wait, your hair isn’t white?”

“No, it’s gray. Anyway, while you were going on your little rampage, I was being blamed for it.”—“Oh no, I’m so sorry Fiona”—“They thought I was a Western spy trying to take out the secret police for a tactical reason. While I was being questioned they said some very strange things. They mentioned that earlier today, they apprehended a spy called “Starlight”. A young ‘bratty’ teenager, who, unfortunately for them, escaped. Sound familiar?”

“Starlight Anya…” Yor Forger breathed out, looking at Nightfall, before continuing. “Don’t Westalian spies use codenames like that? I’ve heard of a guy called Twilight, but I’ve never considered that Anya’s nickname could sound similar! Did they think she was a spy because of that? Because she’s from Westalis?”

Great. Yor Forger, Twilight’s wife, is not only a highly skilled assassin, but she’s also already heard of Twilight.
“That’s my theory. Anya was accused of being a spy. In which case, you can’t really blame her at all if she lied to Yuri about why she was arrested. However, it also means she wasn’t released. She escaped.”

A murderous glare flashed across Yor Forger’s eyes, and Nightfall flinched—despite it not being directed towards her.
“That means they’ll try to get her back!”

Nightfall nodded.
“Since we’re already in the area, would you like to destroy some evidence with me?”

As it turns out, breaking into the records room of the SSS HQ is quite easy when there is no one to stop you.

“Yor, can you stand watch? I’ll look through the files.”

“I can look through them too, Fiona! I file paperwork all the time at City Hall!”

Once again, the words of her Handler echoed in Nightfall’s head.
“Ensure that Yor Forger does not find out what her brother does.”

This’ll be difficult.

“I file patient’s charts, you know. This’ll be fast, but I’d feel safer if I knew you were watching my back. Never know when more people will show up.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve killed them all.”

“Reinforcements will arrive, sooner or later.”

With the antsy mother off her back, Nightfall began to rapidly flip through the files in the cabinet for F’s.

Francis, Franklin, Fraser, Freeman, French, Frey, Friday, Frisby, Fritz, Frobisher, Frost.

Fiona Frost.
Alias: ⟨WISE⟩ Nightfall
Occupation: Hospital Clerk, Berlint General Hospital
DOB: 1930-12-25 (age 32)
Known contacts: Alex Anderson, Franky Franklin, Loid Forger

She pocketed the file, before thumbing through the Fo’s.

Forbes, Forcer, Ford, Foreman, Forfitt, Forger.

Loid Forger.
Occupation: Psychiatrist, Berlint General Hospital
DOB: 1926-08-27 (age 36)
Marriage: Ashe Sherwood Forger [1948-07-04—1953-05-17], Yor Briar Forger [1954-09-02—]
Family: Anya Forger (daughter)
Known contacts: Franky Franklin, Donovan Desmond, Fiona Frost, Sigmund Authen, Barbara Authen, Yuri Briar, Chloe Chapman, Sylvia Sherwood, Steven Sherwood, Alex Anderson, Gerald Gorey

All good there, Twilight’s file is clean.

Anya Forger.
Occupation: Student, Eden College
DOB: 1948-10-31 (age 14)
Family: Loid Forger (father), Ashe Sherwood Forger (mother), Yor Briar Forger (step-mother), Yuri Briar (step-uncle), Sylvia Sherwood (grandmother)
Known contacts: Rebecca Blackbell, Damian Desmond, William Watkins, Evelyn Egeburg, Emile Elman, Cornelia Connell, Megan Montrose, Alice Paulette, Fredrick Reale, Tertius III

She’s not marked as Starlight? That’s strange.

Yor Briar Forger.
Occupation: Civil Servant, Berlint City Hall
Alias: ⟨Garden⟩ Nightshade
DOB: 1927-04-06 (age 35)
Marriage: Loid Forger [1954-09-02—]
Family: Yuri Briar (brother), Anya Forger (stepdaughter)
Known contacts: Matthew McMahon, Gustavo Gardner, Julian Jones, Melinda McMahon Desmond, Camilla Corrigan Daniels, Sharon Seager, Millie Myers, Dominic Daniels
THIS INDIVIDUAL IS GARDEN’S THORN PRINCESS.
DO NOT APPREHEND.

Nightfall was frozen looking at the paper.
“Yor? Come here.”

Yor Forger looked over the spy’s shoulder.
“What is it?”

Nightfall turned to her.
“It seems they already know that you’re an assassin.”

The woman seemed to completely deflate.
“Oleander…”

“What?”

“Oleander. He’s another Garden member. When he’s not pruning, he’s a lieutenant with the Secret Police, he makes sure we don’t get arrested. I always thought he was just destroying any evidence on us, but I guess he’s just been… ordering us to not be arrested despite the evidence.”

Wow. Garden is robustly integrated into the state.
“That’s a good thing, right?”

“I guess… but uh… did you know why I married Loid?”

Yes.
“No.”

“I was scared of getting reported to the secret police! I was scared that because I was single, someone might catch on that I’m an assassin! I could’ve been spared so much worry if Oleander had just… told me I was off the hook.”

Nightfall smiled at Yor.
“If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have married Loid, would you? You would’ve never become Anya’s mother. That’s worth any amount of worry, right?”

“I guess. But why are you happy about that? Don’t you like Loid?”

Nightfall metaphorically spat out her coffee.
Had Yor Forger seen through my affections when even Twilight hadn’t?
“Didn’t think you knew that. Yes, I do. It’s why it means so much to me that he’s happy. As much as it pains me to admit it… you put a smile on his face I would never be able to.”

“Fiona…”

“Enough romance talk. There’s another issue with these files. Mine outright marked me as ‘Nightfall’, so I’ll have to destroy it.”

“Oooh, sounds like Twilight!”

Nightfall ignored that comment.
“And yet your daughter’s has no such mark. In the eyes of the state, she’s innocent.”

“So they didn’t arrest her for being a spy?”

“On paper, yes, that’s the case. But Anya Forger has no record of being arrested, regardless of the reason, even though we know she was. Call me suspicious, but something doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m missing a big piece of the puzzle. It’s like she was arrested, but they didn’t know that she was Anya Forger, which is really strange. She’s a very… distinctive girl.”

“Maybe she disguised herself? She loves spy shows and disguises!”

“It’s a possibility. We can check their security cameras. We’ll need to destroy the footage anyway, because you’re probably on it murdering dozens. I doubt even Oleander would be able to save you if the SSS found out what you did tonight.”

“Oh, right…”

Yor Forger’s voice trailed away, but Nightfall wasn’t listening. Her mind was stuck staring at Yor Forger’s file. At a name listed near the bottom.

She put the file back into the cabinet, banishing her thoughts before they could interfere with her mission. 

Instead, the spy focused on her thoughts on how her forearm hurt like hell. Yet even that reminded her of him.

She found a cigarette lighter nearby and lit the F cabinet ablaze, files and all their traitorous thought-inducing names included, before pocketing the lighter.

Breaking into the security room was no more difficult than the records room for the assassin. 

The spy, however, had a far greater challenge.
“Ensure that Yor Forger does not find out what her brother does.”
In a room full of live security footage of his workplace. And I need to look through past footage to find out what happened to Anya Forger. I’ll need a distraction.

Nightfall “accidentally” restarted the alarm alerting the SSS of an intruder.
Yor jumped up in surprise.
“Fiona! What’s that?”

She pretended to panic.
“They must know we’re here. Can you hold them off?”

Yor nodded, running out of the room and closing the door.

Nightfall has looked through many security tapes in her time as a spy. Few were as disturbing as these, which put together a tale—one of Yuri Briar arresting and torturing his own niece.

She saw Yuri Briar escorting a handcuffed Anya Forger—clearly Anya Forger, despite the fact that she was wearing a wig—through the halls of the SSS, into an interrogation room. 

She saw Chloe Chapman leave and return to the interrogation room, bringing a tub of water.

She saw Yuri Briar leave the interrogation room, hands wet, eyes wide, clearly distressed.

She saw Yuri Briar run into Chloe Chapman, and despite the silent footage, she was able to bear witness to the two conspiring to help their niece escape.

She saw Louis Reale and Chloe Chapman escort a handcuffed Anya Forger to a cell.

She saw Chloe Chapman discretely slip a key into Anya Forger’s mangled hands.

She saw Yuri Briar leave the SSS HQ.

She saw Anya Forger expertly pick locks with broken fingers and completely change her appearance from within her cell, before emerging.

She saw Anya Forger speak with Walter Wilker.

She saw Walter Wilker escort Anya Forger out of the SSS HQ.

Unfortunately, Nightfall did not see the inner workings of the interrogation. While there was a camera inside, it had been knocked eschew, and was thus pointed at the table. Nightfall could not read Anya Forger’s lips, nor the lips of her captors, and the footage was silent. She could only watch in horror as she saw the child’s fingers broken one by one, and she could only watch in horror as she saw the child’s uncle dunk her head below the waves.

Nightfall felt the floor fall out from under her feet.
I’d…suspected he might have arrested her. But to have been the one to do the torture?
Twilight would be… I can’t tell him. If the quiet, kind, caring Yor Forger was willing to murder dozens, who knows what he would do?
He can never know… He’d kill Briar. His cover would be blown. His wife would be heartbroken at the death of her brother. Strix would be done.

Nightfall took a gun from one of the nearby corpses and shot up all the monitors in anger, before pocketing all the relevant tapes and burning the rest. The spy wished she could let the fire spread beyond that room, but arson of the SSS HQ was too bold, even for her.

She extinguished the blaze once its purpose was served.

Emerging from the scorched room, Nightfall was unsurprised to see Yor Forger surrounded by corpses.

“Hey, Fiona.”

“You were right. Anya was accused of being a spy, but by chance she was wearing a blonde wig at the time, and they never realized it wasn’t her real hair. I'd recommend you avoid telling your husband what's really happened to Anya. ”

"Yeah… he would wonder how I knew. Speaking of that… how did she escape? Isn't the security here, like, really strict?”
Yor Forger asked the million dollar question. 

Nightfall answered with truth.
“The scribe at her interrogation—Chloe Chapman—correctly identified her as Anya Forger, but kept her identity safe, choosing to instead break her out.”

Yor Forger’s eyes were wide.

“Chloe Chapman? Chloe’s with them? She's my brother's girlfriend! I… I hate the secret police. She witnessed the torture first-hand… But it's not like she could've spoken up without risking herself… I don't know what to think of her. I mean it’s not like I automatically hate everyone in the secret police, Sylvia looked so mad after what happened today…”

“Sylvia?”

“Anya’s grandmother! Sylvia Sherwood. I, uhm, don’t think I’m supposed to know this but I’m pretty sure she works for the secret police. She looked furious when she found out what happened to Anya…” 

How did she even come to that conclusion?
If she could jump to that conclusion, she could easily jump places knowing that Chapman is in the SSS. Why the hell did I tell her the truth?
I could've just not given a name. She didn't even ask. Yeah, I’m off my game. Everything feels like it's spinning…
Damage control, damage control, damage control.

"Thanks to Chloe, Anya Forger is not only free, but also for all intents and purposes innocent. I burned any footage Anya appeared in, so they can’t use her face to find her. All the footage of you has been destroyed too.”

Tears of gratitude came to the woman’s eyes.
“I need to thank her.”

"You can't. Not without her questioning how you know.”

Dismay covered Yor Forger’s face.
"Then I'll at least thank you, Fiona, I can’t thank you enough. I… I dragged you into this mess of torture and murder and… you’re still helping me and my family. You don’t deserve to have to deal with this…”

“You’re a hero from the shadows, whose great deeds will never see the light of day.”
Maybe being thanked once in a while wouldn’t be too bad.
“Anya doesn’t deserve to deal with being an accused spy, and I’ll gladly help her with that. Really, none of us deserve to live in a country where our every action is scrutinized for signs of treas–”

Nightfall is cut off when she feels a bullet fly into her leg, as more SSS officers arrive at the scene.

Yor wastes no time in lifting her compatriot over her shoulder with one hand, while sprinting at her foes, stiletto raised in the other.

The spy resigned herself to her fate.

The two women had left the SSS HQ and were on their way to 128 Park Avenue, because Yor Forger needed to collect “Director Chimera” for Anya Forger.

“You know, I could’ve fought them off. You didn’t need to carry me.”

“I’m not going to risk you getting hurt!”

You risked jumping out the window with me over your shoulder… I feel dizzy just thinking about that.

The assassin continued
“Although, I suppose you did pretty well while fighting me. Where’d you learn to fight like that anyway?”

Can’t exactly say spy training, can I? That’s not even true. Spies are trained with firearms, not melee weaponry.
“My brother. He was big into fencing when we were little. We’d always spar with sticks like they were swords.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Yeah. Had.”

“Oh…”
Nightfall didn’t need to elaborate. Everyone had lost someone in the war. She elaborated anyway. She didn’t know why. She couldn’t rationalize it “for the mission”. She just did. Her mind felt foggy anyway.

“Dresdent. ‘Forty five. We were fifteen. I gave him a pretty nasty injury in our last fight before the bombings, so he couldn’t run to the shelter fast enough.”
Or so I thought.

“Don’t blame yourself, Fiona.”

“I don’t.” I do. “Any time I try, I can just imagine my brother saying something ridiculous like ‘Emotion makes you weak! You must sever all connection with your past to become the strongest!’ He was crazy like that.”
You’re saying too much. She’ll catch on.
████ ignored the thought in her all-too-light head.

Yor looked forward as they walked on in silence—soon broken.
“Y’know, I blame myself for my parents’ death. I asked if they could run into town to get some apple tarts for me and Yuri, and that’s when the bombs fell. After that, it was just us. That’s why I became an assassin, actually. Yuri was going to starve if I couldn’t find work, and no one really wanted to hire a twelve year old.”

She’s been doing this since childhood…
“Yor, there’s nothing you could’ve done to change that. Your parents didn’t die because you wanted food. They died because Westalis was dropping bombs.”

Yor looked concerned.
“Fiona, do you… hate Westalis? You do know Loid is Westalian, right?”

She told him that?
“I know. I don’t hate Westalis, but I do hate the wartime Westalian government. And the wartime Ostanian government. Everyone was being ridiculous, the war was needless. Blaming Westalians as a whole for my brother’s death is almost as stupid as if I blamed myself for my son’s death.”
And yet I do blame myself for that.

“You… had a son?”

“Yes.” Or a daughter. I don’t know. “Dresdent took my parents too, so I was homeless.” I fucking wish it took my father, but she doesn’t need to know that.
████ once again ignored the voice in her mind that said “She doesn’t need to know any of this.”
“I don’t think I need to spell out what happens to a homeless fifteen year old girl on the streets of a war torn city.”
It didn’t happen on the streets, it happened in your own home. By the one who was supposed to care for you above all else.

Yor silently looked at her, concern evident in her crimson eyes. Nightfall continued.
“I was in no position to care for an infant forced on me, so I didn’t. I ended his life just as it began to spare him suffering. It may seem cold, but that’s befitting of the Frost name, isn’t it?”

“Fiona…I didn’t know your life was so…”

“Dreadful? Melancholic? Calamitous?”

“…unfortunate.” 

“Sorry for dumping it on you. I shouldn’t have said anything. I usually never think of it, but all the blood today brought it back.”

“That’s my fault, I–Fiona?”

The spy had dropped to the ground, unconscious.

When she awoke, she was in… a hotel room?
A very, very, very luxurious hotel room. Each furnishing probably cost more than “Fiona Frost” made in a year.
Large enough it felt like a luxurious penthouse apartment.
The light outside the window suggested it to be around 4:30 in the morning.

How did I get here? I know Yor Forger and I were leaving the SSS HQ, but I can’t really rememb–

Her thoughts were interrupted as she vomited, Yor Forger catching her sick in a bucket.
“I’m so sorry, Fiona! My earrings are poisoned, and… a–and I forgot to tell you!”

I was poisoned? By an earring?
Nightfall finally had the presence of mind to look around her.
Yes, she was in a hotel room, but she wasn’t alone. Yor Forger stood next to her, but a man she didn’t immediately recognize was also in the room.

About an inch taller than Yor Forger, he had curled black hair with streaks of gray, reaching to his broad shoulders. His face looked deformed, covered in a myriad of scars, with the entire left half showing signs of having been burned. Despite that, his brown eyes looked caring, although concerned.

Eventually, Nightfall did recognize him. Afterall, she had run a background check on him in the past—not that he had the scarring back then. He was Bel Authen, age 39, the son of Twilight’s neighbors, Sigmund and Barbara Authen.
Fiona Frost, on the other hand, did not recognize him. She’d never seen this man in her life.

“I’m sorry for bringing you here–”
Where is here?
“–without asking, but it was the closest place I could that wouldn’t ask questions. This is my coworker, Mistletoe!”

Great. He’s an assassin too. Seems that background check I ran was insufficient.
“Nice to meet you?”

He nodded.
A man of few words, I see.

Yor Forger broke the silence.
“He’s Garden’s doctor, so I figured if anyone could treat you it would be him. Well, I would’ve asked Gympie, she’s the poison specialist, but I can’t exactly call the Berlint University dorms at three in the morning…”

They have a resident doctor, and a poison specialist?

“I got the bullet out of your leg too. What were you thinking, walking on that?”
The assassin’s voice was deep and grating, almost artificial.

“Uh–”

“You should’ve let Nightshade carry you. She’s good about that.”

Maybe not a man of few words, then.
“I assume she… mentioned how this happened?”

“Something along the lines of ‘you’re a coworker of her husband, you followed her into the SSS HQ, fought a little, then worked together to kill anyone who had hurt her daughter’?”

Comprehensive.
“You skipped the part where we disposed of any evidence that could lead to her daughter being arrested again, but yes. Can I ask where I am?”

Yor Forger piped up to answer.
“Oh, right! You’re in the Royal Hotel. It was nearby, and I knew Wolfsbane wouldn’t question me coming in with a body, as long as I cleaned up the blood, and he could call Mistletoe fast.”

“Hold on, Garden runs a hotel?”
Nightfall cursed to herself, not meaning to have said that out loud.

“Mhm! It’s a very convenient place to kill people without the secret police catching on! Just invite them over for a luxury stay, kill them, fake their death days later, you know?”

What a setup.

“Nightshade! You talk too much. And you, Frost. I must say. You’re resilient. Not many could successfully shoot Nightshade and live to tell the tale, let alone last several hours after her poisoning. Besides some loopiness, you had very few side effects.”
His words had a biting edge to them.

Loopy? I hope I didn’t say anything compromising.
“Did…I say anything strange while I was out?”

Yor Forger provided her with an answer once more.
“Well, you told me how your family died. That’s about it.”

Mistletoe was silent, but instead mouthed words, visible to the spy only.
“You sure did, Nightfall.”

She felt her blood freeze.

“Nightshade, can you fetch Wolfsbane and Thistle? We need to discuss how to cover this up.”

He’s going to kill me once she’s gone.
As soon as Yor Forger left the room and closed the door, Nightfall reached for the gun she had taken to destroy the footage. She shot Mistletoe in the chest and the bullet bounced off, with a cling of metal.
What.

He ripped the gun from her hand with no effort.
“Nightshade wasn’t present, but you talked about ‘reporting to Handler’, which tells me that you’re a spy. Given you held up to Nightshade, I went out on a limb and assumed you were a very competent spy, such as the famed Nightfall. Correct?”

She was frozen in fear.

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. Why would I expose you? WISE and Garden’s goals are aligned, are they not? Preserve peace by all means necessary?”

Nightfall nodded cautiously.

“Good. Don’t reveal our identities, and I won’t reveal yours. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you alone because I have a… pruning job that could use WISE’s help. Not an official job from Garden, but as Nightshade no doubt showed you tonight, that doesn’t often stop us from pursuing… personal vendettas.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll be honest with you. Before I joined Garden I was in some rather questionable medical research work with my father. I know it haunts him to this day. I thought we were working to cure Alzheimer's. No. We were creating psychic children.”

Nightfall was speechless.

“It was called Project Apple. Once I realized what was going on, I destroyed as much research as I could and set the only test subject I had access to free. A little mind reader, I sent her to some shady orphanage where they’d never find her. I hope she’s okay. Once I’d seen the horrors of what she’d been through, there was no going back. I needed to end it. Joined Garden. I used some of the research to modify my own body so I could kill them better, but our intelligence network is… lacking. I haven’t really gotten a chance to use it against them.”

Nightfall caught her voice after a long silence.
“There’s more test subjects. They tried to use one of them to torture me today.”

He nodded.
“I assume WISE would have an interest in preventing Ostania from having access to psychics?”

“They better, for the human rights violation alone. I’ll talk to my Handler to see if we can arrange a meeting.”

“Good. My name’s Bel Authen, that should be enough for you to contact me. Update me on what your boss says, and I’ll tell Shopkeeper. It may be a personal vendetta, but I’m sure he’ll agree to do the job if he’s actually got the information to do it.”

So Garden’s boss is called the Shopkeeper? Interesting. I suppose that means that that “Ivy” woman from earlier is likely an assassin too.

Not a moment too late, Yor Forger entered the room, with a pair of men in tow.

“Ice to meet you, Miss Frost.” He chuckled at his own pun, before laying down another: “The name’s Wolfsbane. Or Monkshood, or Aconite. Pick your poison. Dave works too. I’m the hotel’s manager.”
He offered his hand to Nightfall.
“You see, the joke is that my codename is a poisonous plant with many names, and I use all of them, so you can ‘pick your poison’ when you name me, see?”

The man was broad and beefy (more so than Mistletoe), no better term for it. He had a remarkably large nose, although it fit his remarkably large head—which in turn fit his remarkably large body. His head was shaved, except for a dirty blond tuft at the top. He looked—although cleared did not act—exactly as one would expect an intimidating assassin to look. Large and strong, although he lacked the scars one might expect with his profession. His narrow black eyes aided the look, as did the threateningly spiked hammer that hung by his side.

Nightfall ignored his pun and accepted his handshake, noting that his hands bore the callouses to be expected of extensive brass knuckle usage.
Seems his expertise is not limited to a single weapon.
“Pleasure.”

The other man, Thistle(?), followed shortly.
Nightfall did a double take.
Is that–
There’s no way.
It’s that twink who gets Handler her coffee!
Nightfall honestly didn’t know his name. Or his codename, for that matter. His hair was jet black rather than his usual light blond, but he was definitely the same person. Same black suit, same green tie, same round jawline, same blue eyes.

They stared at each other.
Not the same nervous demeanor. Must be glad to have the upper hand on me.
“You must be Thistle.”

He walked into the room and turned to face Nightfall, while facing away from his coworkers.
He spoke: “That I am.”
He mouthed: “They don’t know.”

Nightfall understood what he meant.
He’s in two different top secret organizations, and neither knows that he’s in the other… How did he even get into this situation?

His usual mellow voice, unbefitting of assassination, spoke again—although annoyed.
“Can someone explain what we’re even doing here? I was just driving Mistletoe here after he got an ‘urgent call’ and I’m still pretty much in the dar–”

“If you shut up, I’ll explain.”
Mistletoe interrupted him.

Ouch. He’s the errand boy for Garden too?

“Fiona here got mixed up in one of Nightshade’s jobs and got poisoned, so she brought her here so I could treat her, and because Nightshade can’t shut her damn mouth–”
“I’m sorry!”
“–Fiona knows too much.”

“So your response is to make sure she knows even more of us?”

“No, I want to bounce an idea off you.”

That shut Thistle up, but it got Wolfsbane talking.

“Let me guess. Because Frost here works at a hospital, you want to recruit her for intel about corrupt doctors who may have had a hand in Project Apple.”

Silence.
“…you know me too well.”

Seems Mistletoe’s mission is no secret.

Yor Forger gasped at his confirmation.
“That’s a great idea! If there’s bad doctors who do bad things, you can tell us! I mean, we know there’s bad doctors. It takes a true monster to experiment on kids… but we can never find them. If you can help, we’ll kill them! That way, you’re being useful to Garden, so Shopkeeper won’t have you killed for knowing too much!”

That’s certainly a way to put it.

Wolfsbane added on to Yor Forger’s unspoken threat.
“It goes without saying of course, if you tell anyone our identities, we'll be putting you on… ice.”

Yor Forger laughed, while Mistletoe and Thistle turned to their colleague in annoyance. Nightfall just ignored the pun.
The fact that I’ll be killed if I say anything goes without saying. Doesn’t mean I won’t be telling Handler what I can without being discovered.

“You see, the joke is that your last name is Frost, as in ice, and putting someone on ice is a euphemism for killin–”

Nightfall shut him up.
“I accept your proposal, but… why does it require me to be in a room with so many assassins right now?”

“What, are you nervous?”
Thistle—lazily spinning a shuriken around on his index finger—couldn’t miss the chance to finally have the upper hand on Nightfall for once. As if the two weren’t locked in mutually assured destruction by revealing their WISE identities to Garden.

“Yes.”
Might as well be honest, for once. They’re all so relaxed around me, it’s like I’m not even a threat. Granted, I’m injured, but still… I could barely do a thing against Yor Forger. If these people wanted me dead, I’d be no better off than a mouse surrounded by lions.

“To answer your question, it’s rather unheard of. Pretty much all of our intel sources are from our own assassins, or our families. Proposing such a plan to Shopkeeper would require the support of at least four of us.”

Wolfsbane’s reply left Nightfall’s head spinning.
Not only does the secret syndicate of assassins have their own doctor, hotel, intelligence network, and SSS plant, but they also have their own bureaucratic red tape?
“What is this, a democracy?”

“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yep!”

Chapter Text

Monday, November 5th, 1962

Chloe Chapman felt as if her heart was pounding. It wasn't, but it really should’ve been. The past eighteen hours were among the most intense of her life.

Yesterday had been a pretty normal day at work, until Yuri arrested a spy; Anya Forger, his own niece.
He begged Chloe to fix his mistake. She risked her life to help the girl escape.

Word of Starlight’s arrest spread like wildfire within the Ostanian underworld. The State Security Service had caught a spy and lost her just as fast. In hindsight, Chloe realized she had been incredibly stupid. She handed the girl the key directly in sight of a security camera.

However, it seemed Anya Forger knew this too. Because sometime in the night, the SSS HQ was broken into. A total of seventy-four men were killed. The target? Unknown. General consensus was that Agent Starlight was behind it. If she had been executing petty revenge, or strategically assassinating anyone who had seen her face, no one knew for sure.

Chloe knew it wasn’t the former. Anya Forger may have been petty, but she wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t have seventy-four people killed out of pettiness.
Chloe knew it wasn’t the latter. Afterall, she and Yuri weren’t killed. Scarface and Gascoigne weren’t killed.

Chloe knew the real reason for the break in; the SSS’s entire collection of security footage had been destroyed. Anya Forger knew that Chloe’s aid was on camera, and made sure no one else would find out.

She was stupid and hot-headed, and nearly paid the ultimate price for it. Anya Forger—the fourteen year old spy—saved her life, at the cost of so many of her coworkers’.

Most of the SSS’s workforce had been given the day off to lie low in case Starlight attacked again.

And yet, here Chloe stood.
In front of a dilapidated photo booth, wearing a mask over her face, a perfect replica of Fiona Frost’s. Heart steady, even if it should have been pounding. She walked in and paid using the five pent coin she had been given. The camera analyzed her face.

The elevator descended, and “Fiona Frost” was granted access to WISE’s Ostanian headquarters.

Chloe’s heart wasn’t pounding as she walked through the HQ. She passed dozens of people she didn’t know, but who knew Frost. She was glad that the woman was notorious for being silent. She didn’t doubt her voice impersonation abilities, but these were veterans. She needed to fool spies hardened by decades of experience.

Act like you belong. Act like you belong. Act like you belong.

She walked past Dr. Forger without so much as a glance. After all, would Frost be surprised to see him here?

Pull yourself together.

Dr. Forger glanced at her suspiciously. Chloe walked faster; not fast enough.
“Nightfall.”

Chloe spoke in the emotionless drawl of Fiona Frost.
“Twilight.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Classified.”
That much is true.

“Last I checked, there’s nothing classified to me that isn’t also classified to you.”

Oh, fuck. What’s the phrase to get him to trust me?
“Good morning Twilight, though the night is still young.”

He raised an eyebrow at “Fiona Frost”.

Did I mess up the code phrase? That’s the correct one, right?
Chloe’s heart was not pounding. That had been trained out of her long ago.

It really should’ve been. Her heart should’ve been downright racing. Dr. Forger is terrifying. Chloe expected him to remain in the hospital watching over his daughter, and yet here he was.
If he finds out that I was complicit in his daughter’s torture, I’m dead…

“Handler’s waiting.”

Chloe let out a sigh of relief she didn’t realize she was holding.
The SSS officer in disguise walked into “her” handlers office. An office currently occupied by both Sylvia Sherwood and the real Fiona Frost.

Both spies turned at the opening of the door. Shock crossed the face of the notoriously emotionless Nightfall, before quickly morphing into resignation, with a question.
“Why me?”

Sylvia answered her.
“Because you have a similar build, and your demeanor is easy to replicate.”
She directed her voice to Chloe.
“Good morning Midnight, though the night is still young. Take a seat. We have much to discuss.”

Chloe Chapman.
Age 32.
Officer of the State Security Service.
True identity? A WISE agent.
Codename: Midnight.

In truth, the “Man Without a Face” is no man. Her identity is kept under such tight lock-and-key… that even her gender is a mystery. 

Eight years ago, when it was discovered that Twilight’s brother-in-law worked in the SSS, Midnight was placed under deep cover on a sister operation to Strix:
Operation Wendigo.

The target: Yuri Briar.
The objective: Prevent the target from discovering Twilight's current cover identity by any means necessary.

Midnight was selected due to her civilian identity already being acquainted with the target, as they were college classmates. Additionally, as Wendigo required infiltrating the SSS, Chloe’s last name—Chapman—allowed for an easy in with the Ostanian elite. After all, it was her surname that pushed her to join WISE in the first place.

Everyone knew that the last war started when Charles Chapman, Prime Minister of Ostania, bombed the border town of Luwen before invading. 

Many also knew the reason for his aggression: Not long before, his six year old granddaughter—Chloe—had been shot. A Westalian sniper seeking to weaken the Chapman family who lead Ostania. Chloe survived, barely, forever haunted by reflections off glass from faraway rooftops. Could that be a sniper’s scope?
She never knew for sure.

What most people did not know was that the sniper was no Westalian. The sniper was hired by Chapman himself. Chapman, callous and shrewd, was willing to throw away the life of his son's daughter so that he would have an excuse for war.

However, little Chloe was not most people. When she was thirteen, she overheard her father fighting with her grandfather. Her father discovered the truth behind the assassination attempt. He was beyond furious that his precious daughter had almost been killed for political gain. He vowed to report the man to the SSS.

But Charles Chapman held great sway.

A day later, Christopher Chapman died under “mysterious circumstances", and the case “went cold". Chloe knew what really happened; Chloe knew she would not be believed.

Thus thirteen-year-old Chloe Chapman chose to become every bit as callous and shrewd as her grandfather, working with Western Intelligence to bring him down.

She was the first—and only—spy in the history of WISE to maintain her birth identity despite being an agent.

Therefore, no one was to know that Chloe Chapman was a spy. No one could know that Chloe Chapman was a spy. Every time she met with her fellow WISE agents—which was exceedingly rare as it was—she wore a disguise. The granddaughter of your greatest enemy, on your side? Far too valuable to risk for any reason. 

Until today. WISE now had an agent who was the closest confidant of the Prime Minister. An agent whose daughter was arrested. WISE needed to know what happened. Was Twilight in danger?

Thus, Midnight was called forth to WISE HQ for the first time in a long, long time. 

Agent Starlight had been arrested yesterday. When asked what she was doing in Berlint, she confidently replied that she was on a mission called Operation Scarlet Salmon, but she was clearly joking. Operation Scarlet Salmon must be a mission to feed the SSS false information. I assume she mentioned it to subtly tell me about the mission, and now Handler wants to know what information the SSS bought and what they didn't.
Chloe spoke up, as she pushed all cues out of her voice to make it as monotone, as genderless, as nondescript as possible. Rather than mimic Nightfall, the voice she used was unidentifiable, unremarkable in any way.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Nightfall was just about to explain where the hell she was last night. Isn’t that right, Nightfall?”

Chloe had to applaud the icy woman for her ability to remain steadfast in the face of their furious Handler.

“It’s a long story. Tell me Handler—have you ever heard of Garden?”

The room was silent as Chloe braced herself.
Seems I’ll be waiting to report to Handler.

Handler looked apprehensive.
“…Continue.”

“Last night, Yor Forger left Berlint General Hospital to go to 128 Park Avenue. I followed her as a precaution to ensure she does not learn of Yuri Briar’s profession, however I got… sidetracked. While tailing her, I saw a suspicious individual attempting to enter the SSS HQ. Deciding that Yor was unlikely to discover Yuri Briar on her walk home, I elected to instead investigate this suspicious individual. It was a time-sensitive matter, so I did not confirm with you first.”

I do not like the direction this is going.
Chloe was silent, while Handler probed Nightfall.
“This suspicious individual was with Garden?”

“Yes. She goes by the codename Nightshade, she is Garden’s Thorn Princess—that is, she is their strongest. I followed her inside, only to find dozens of bodies.”

Handler looked shocked, while Chloe felt herself fill with dread.
WISE didn’t plan this massacre? Starlight wasn’t trying to destroy evidence?
“‘Dozens’ is an understatement. Seventy-four people were dead when I got to work this morning. The SSS has assumed WISE to be responsible, and I was given the day off to lay low in case there is another attack.”

Handler planted her face into the desk, and groaned in despair.
“Why… We don’t need another reason for war…”

Nightfall continued.
“Garden is an organization of vigilante assassins, and she had been hired to kill as many SSS officers as possible due to their—and I quote—‘vile lack of empathy and joy at torturing children’. I have no doubt that news of Anya Forger’s arrest had reached the Shopkeeper’s ears, I would assume through Franklin. That man can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.”

“Anya Forger”? Not Agent Starlight?

“I attempted to neutralize her before further damage to East-West relations could be done, but she was too strong. I retreated before she could kill me, but I was soon taken into custody by the SSS who assumed me responsible for the killings.”

But my coworkers blame Starlight, not Nightfall.
With each passing sentence from Nightfall, Handler’s expression fell further and further into despair.

“They interrogated me but I learned a great deal of information. First off, the SSS has a psychic teenager whom they force to extract information from suspects. They called her 002, but she told me her name was Ophelia. She couldn’t read my mind, but she could make me see, hear, and feel things. The aim was torture, to make me feel unimaginable pain. She was uncooperative, choosing to make our captors see me in pain instead of directly inflicting it upon me. However, she refused to escape, uncomfortable with the fact that genuine torture would be used in her place if she were not there.”

I’ve never even heard of us having a psychic. Must be a closely guarded secret… but does Gascoigne know? Does Scarface know that the organization he is loyal to holds a child captive to torture people?

Handler’s face carried a look of extreme discomfort, but she didn’t say anything.

“Secondly, they were able to identify me as Nightfall without effort, so it seems we may have a mole leaking information to them.”

That would be Starlight, they must have assumed she was Nightfall simply because she was strong. A lucky guess on their part. But I would have assumed that Nightfall was briefed on this?

Handler's dismay grew further, but she remained silent.

"It seems that Twilight was indeed either lying or misinformed. Anya Forger was not arrested for her hair color, but because her uncle suspected her of being a spy. I assume that her ‘Starlight Anya’ nickname was responsible for causing suspicion, as it resembles WISE codenames.”

I see. Just as Nightfall doesn’t know my identity as Midnight, she also doesn’t know Anya’s identity as Starlight. 

“As the SSS assumed the threat had passed, they stopped searching for the Thorn Princess, who killed everyone interrogating me before long. She proved… surprisingly amicable despite the fact that I tried to kill her. As Anya Forger was a suspected spy, I gathered that she wasn't set free, but instead escaped, so the Thorn Princess and I worked together to destroy any records that incriminated her as such.”

So that’s why we didn’t know it was her.

Nightfall set a pile of tapes on Handler’s desk.
“Here is the security footage of Anya Forger’s time in the SSS. Evidence that… that Yuri Briar carried out the torture.”
Even the ever emotionless Nightfall choked as she said that.

Twilight can’t find out.
Their Handler agreed with Chloe’s thoughts.
“Twilight can never know.”

“Indeed. It also appears we have a potential ally, as Chloe Chapman assisted Anya Forger in her escape—although admittedly, she needed convincing from Yuri Briar to do so. We burned all other security tapes so these wouldn’t raise an eye.”

I was already planning to break her out. Yuri’s request just meant I had his help.
Chloe ignored that she was talking about herself in the third person.
“That sounds like something Chapman would do. She’s not the most supportive of the SSS’s means, and the torture of her niece is likely a line she wouldn’t cross.”
I crossed it, alright. And I’ll regret it every day I live.

“We also broke into the records room to destroy Anya Forger’s files, but they were not incriminating. In fact, they showed no record of any arrest, as if Yuri Briar reported her as ‘Agent Starlight’, not as ‘Anya Forger’. Anya Forger wore a wig during her arrest; If I didn’t know any better, it’s like she expected to be arrested and prepared as such.”

Yes, that was the whole point of Operation Scarlet Salmon, was it not? Starlight is intentionally arrested, provides bogus information to throw the SSS off Twilight’s tail, then she escapes with my help. Handler was counting on my guilt, was she not?

“However, my own file identified me as Nightfall, due to my short arrest before the Thorn Princess interfered. Thus, I took it and burnt the F filing cabinet so its absence wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.”
Nightfall placed a handful of files on Handler’s desk.
“Here is my file, along with Franky Franklin’s, Anya Forger’s, and Loid Forger’s. All are free of suspicion, luckily. Yor Forger was filed under B for Briar, so I couldn’t remove it without causing suspicion, but she too is clear.”

That’s…not true. We file married women by their legal last name, not maiden name. Is Nightfall hiding something in Yor Forger’s file? Not that I’ll never know. She didn’t even put out the fire, so all the ones near the F cabinet were destroyed too. Over half of our files are gone, so the SSS can’t even tell what files were the target.
Chloe remained silent.

Handler finally spoke.
“Masterfully done on the damage control, Nightfall. It is… unfortunate that the SSS is pinning this on us rather than Garden, but they have no evidence, so outright war is unlikely. Speaking of, did the Thorn Princess discover your identity as Fiona Frost?”

“She identified me as Fiona Frost, hospital clerk, but did not assume me to be a spy. The woman did not seem to be particularly… bright. In our short confrontation she had poisoned me, and forgot to mention it until I had already lost consciousness from it, hours later.”

Handler’s eyes grew wide.

“She took me to a Garden base to recover, and I was met with several other assassins. Overall, they were… friendly. They agreed to let me live despite knowing their identities as I could provide Garden with information about corrupt doctors to ‘prune’. One of them—codenamed Mistletoe—correctly identified me as a spy due to things I had said in my poisoned delirium, but he made no mention of it until we were alone.”

Handler slammed her hands on the table as she stood up, furious.
“You’re compromised?!”

“Yes, but so are he and his coworkers. We reached an agreement. He wouldn’t tell anyone of my identity as Nightfall as long as I kept my mouth shut about who Garden members were. So forgive me for not disclosing that information to you, as I wish to remain alive and well. I can say that they have a plant in the SSS working to keep them out of prison, but I'm not sure who. It's likely this plant will know that WISE was not responsible for the massacre, but I doubt he will say so.”

Handler looked ready to kill, but begrudgingly accepted that Nightfall had little other choice than to keep quiet about the finer details.
“What did this Mistletoe want?”

“He informed me that he worked for a neuroscience organization. He left it and joined Garden as soon as he found out they were experimenting on children, to turn them psychic. Ophelia is one such child. Mistletoe—his real name is Bel Authen—told me that he wants to use WISE’s intel network to destr–”

She was cut off by Handler.
“I’m in.”

The SSS supports human experimentation… of course they do. Gascoigne was telling Anya that yesterday. He made no comment at Starlight’s mention of being a test subject, so I guess he doesn’t actually know about this… Ophelia.

Nightfall’s eyes widened in surprise at Handler’s haste.
“That was fast." 

“You could say I have a… personal stake in the matter. Thank you for your report, Nightfall. You did well. Take a rest, sleep off the poison. That’s an order.”

Chloe was left in the office alone with her Handler.
“I assume you'd like an update on Operation Scarlet Salmon?" 

Handler opened her mouth as if to say something else, but quickly changed it.
"Yes.”

"Yuri Briar brought in Agent Starlight for questioning at 15:12 yesterday. He was aware of her cover identity, but chose to conceal it from his supervisors. Starlight was not identified as Anya Forger.”

Chloe took a deep breath.
“As far as the SSS is concerned, Starlight is aged thirteen, has blonde hair and brown eyes. All images and footage of her were destroyed in last night's attack, which is being blamed on her. She revealed the following information in regards to Twilight to Lieutenant Reale and Captain Gascoigne, which they bought hook, line, and sinker.”

She counted off on her fingers.
“She was trained by Twilight when she was five.
She—nor anyone else in WISE—has ever seen his true face.
She doesn't remember his voice.
Twilight was killed eight years ago in Shellbury, and Yuri Briar is infamous within WISE for killing him.
Perfect impersonation on the spot is a skill any WISE agent possesses.”

Handler smiled.
“Well done, Starlight. Well done.”

“She refused to give the location of this safehouse or her civilian identity. She was questioned about Nightfall, to which she said–”

Chloe does her best to mimic Anya’s shrill voice.
“She tries to take over my missions so she can take credit. She just wants clout! She’d stab us in the back to make a name for herself. Honestly, you’d be doing WISE a favor if you got rid of her, we only keep her around because she’s so good at combat.”

Before returning to her normal voice to say, “I assume this is why Nightfall was identified as such last night, they were just making a guess because she was a woman with high combat ability. She refused to give Nightfall’s civilian identity, simply stating that she is her ‘Aunt’.”

“A risky move, if Starlight is ever compromised.”

Wait, what?
“Did you not give her a script?”

“I let Starlight wing it. Did it work?”

Wow. She must be confident in the girl’s talent.
“The partial truth seemed to make Gascoigne trust her answers more, so I would say so. Starlight was questioned on Sylvia Sherwood’s role in WISE, to which she stated ‘Embassy Lady. We tried to recruit her, but she loves Ostania too much. I like her but my coworkers call her a traitor.’ By some miracle, Gascoigne believed her. She might have just managed to get the SSS off your back once and for all, but I’d still advise that you exercise caution.”

“That girl… This was quite the gamble, but I’m glad it paid off.”

Starlight also mentioned that she used to be a lab rat, but that feels… too personal to share. Hold on, why am I worried about that? Shouldn't Handler already know?
“She also shared with them the circumstances that brought her into espionage; namely that she used to be a Project Apple test subject. Given Nightfall’s report you would think she was a psychic test subject, but she made no mention of that.”

Handler’s expression was unreadable.
“I think you and I can agree that psychics don’t exist. It would be a great boon for our operations if Agent Starlight was, but she is not. Most likely, Nightfall was suffering from delusions thanks to her poisoning.”

Chloe nodded.
If Nightfall was delirious enough to reveal her identity to an assassin, she could have been convinced that she was confronted with a psychic. I really hope she’s ok, poisoning is rough on the best of days.
“I don’t know for certain because it’s not like we can see into his mind, but Reale seemed… sympathetic to Starlight’s plight.”

Handler interrupted her, shaking her head.
“You’ll never truly know what’s going on in someone’s head. There’s a good chance you were projecting your sympathy onto him, assuming that anyone with your morals would agree, including Reale because you’d like to think he is a good man. Do not, under any circumstances, reveal Starlight’s identity to Reale. You may trust him to do the right thing, but there is no doubt that his loyalty lies with Ostania and with the SSS.”

Chloe nodded. Scarface was like a father to her after she had lost hers. She’d trust the man with her life. She also trusted that he would skin her alive if he learned she was a Western agent.
“Finally, Starlight was questioned on the nature of Operation Strix, and claimed that Twilight had passed the mission on to her because he was, and I quote, ‘not good enough to impersonate a kid, the guy sucked’.”

Handler failed to hold back a laugh.

Chloe continued, despite her bewilderment at the sight in front of her.
“She stated the general gist of Strix to be that she has been assigned to be Damian Desmond’s personal bodyguard at school, because Donovan Desmond is planning to use his assassination to spark a war. Is… is that true? Is Desmond trying to do what my grandfather did to me?”

Handler sighed.
“Yes. What Starlight described was Operation Chimera. The primary objective is to covertly prevent Desmond from killing his son, while the secondary objective is to protect her friends; the children of Ostania’s elite, whose parents would have the most motive and means to go to war should something happen. I warn you, Twilight does not know of Starlight’s mission, or even that she is a WISE agent. Just like you, Starlight has a very valuable and longstanding civilian identity, so her presence as a WISE agent is on a need-to-know basis. You, me, and herself. No one else.”

“Understood.”

“While she did a fantastic job on her side mission, I fear that Starlight overshared with her main mission details. If the SSS is aware that her mission is to prevent Desmond’s assassination, they must also be aware that she is a student at Eden College.”

Chloe confirmed.
“Yes. They compared her to various students in a yearbook while she was there, but did not identify her. The picture of Anya Forger was old and not particularly high quality. I should note that Reale and Gascoigne, along with Yuri and I, were the only members of the SSS to have seen Starlight’s face who weren’t killed last night.”

Handler sighed.
“Should the SSS wish, they could mobilize their forces to search the school—they would identify her, disguise be damned, considering her current injuries. I have a mission for Twilight today once his daughter is discharged, so he’ll need a babysitter. Would you be willing to watch over Starlight for the day? She knows your identity as Midnight. You two need to find a way to keep Reale and Gascoigne quiet about Starlight’s appearance. Blackmail, bribery, threats, murder, I don’t care. Starlight’s identity is at stake—and with it, so much more.”

Walking up the stairs of 128 Park Avenue, Chloe's heart was now racing—for real, this time. As expected, she had gotten a call from Yuri on the Forgers’ phone, asking if she could join him in babysitting Anya because “Loi-Loi" didn't trust him alone with his daughter.
I wonder why. 

Chloe's heart was racing because… surely Twilight knew she worked for the SSS. Would he really be okay with her watching his daughter when he wasn't okay with Yuri? She was scared and her heart showed it. She’ll probably end up facing his wrath.

She opened the door to their apartment and was met face to face with… Yor Forger? Her husband was not in sight.
I'm safe. 

“Chloe! Thank you for coming over here on such short notice!" 

I'm here because Handler asked me to, but I won't deny that I enjoy spending time with my niece.
“It's nothing, really. Anya doesn't deserve to be stuck with that kill-joy all day.” 

"Hey!”
Yuri yelled indignantly, while Anya chuckled.

Chloe stepped inside, and Yor’s tone shifted significantly. She sounded… open. Emotional. Regretful?
“Chloe, I… I want to thank you. Anya told me what really happened yesterday, what she wouldn't tell Loid.”

Anya told her that Yuri arrested her…?
Anya told her I was complicit in her torture?
Anya told her she’s a spy?

“She said that she was arrested because they thought that she was a spy, and that you… You helped her escape.”
Yor wrapped Chloe in a tight hug.
"You saved her life. I can't thank you enough…”

The unexpected gratitude from a woman who had every reason to hate her took Chloe by shock.
"I… I was just doing my duty. My duty to justice. There's nothing just about imprisoning and torturing a child, let alone for a crime she didn't commit." 

"You saved Yuri’s life too. I don't know how I can ever repay you.”

I didn't save Yuri, unless you mean saving him from Twilight's wrath.
“Don't. Never repay someone just for doing the right thing."
In a smaller voice, Chloe added.
“I didn't even do the right thing. The right thing would have been to get her out before she was hurt, not after." 

Yor's caring gaze was uncharacteristically deep.
"Do you blame yourself, Chloe?”

"Yes.”

"Don't. Having the courage to stand up against tyrants–” Yuri flinched as he heard that, “–is never a cause for blame. It's a big deal. To me, at least. Accept my gratitude… please.”

Chloe smiled, and nodded.
She doesn't know about Yuri’s involvement. That's good. I can't fathom how she could forgive me, but I guess it's like Twilight says: “I don't understand women." 

Yor broke away from the hug and quickly stammered out:
"SorryIneedtogetgoingorI’llbelateforworkokaybye!”

She ran out the door, slamming it hard enough that one would expect cracks in the doorframe, if it weren't for the fact that the frame had clearly been reinforced with steel. The spy, secret policeman, and spy undercover as a secret policeman looked at one another in silence for a solid five seconds.

Chloe broke it.
“So… what was that about? What did you tell her, Anya?”

“I told Mama that I lied to Papa. I wasn't arrested for my hair color, I was arrested because they thought I was a spy, they took Unkie too, and that Papa can't know because it'll stress him out. I told her that you helped Unkie and I get out!”

Chloe was mildly surprised.
“You… told her I'm with the SSS?”

Anya shook her head.
"She already knew, Mama’s not dumb. Although I’m not sure dumbness has anything to do with this, because Papa doesn't know you’re in the SSS and he’s not dumb. He thinks it’s just Unkie.”

Anya bit her lip in contemplation. “How did we get here? You’re both SSS, and both of my parents think only one of you is SSS, and they aren’t telling each other.”

That’s even dumber considering her father is a spy—how did Handler not tell him His daughter’s aunt works for the SSS? It’s not off the table to keep him in the dark, given she has for Anya’s identity, so it’s not unreasonable she would for mine—at least my identity as an SSS officer. It goes without saying that Twilight can’t know I’m a WISE agent.

Anya’s mouth hung open as if she’d heard something she hadn’t expected to hear—although the room was dead silent, until she spoke.
“Y’know, it’s kind of a miracle Mama hasn’t figured out Unkie’s SSS, so I guess she's a little dumb. ”

"My sister isn't dumb!"
Yuri was furious for an entire three seconds of contemplation.
“...She did forget to tell me she was married for a whole year, so maybe a little… Still, don't talk about your mother like that!”

"Mama doesn't always think before she acts, but at least she's not like her brother who didn't think before he arrested me.”

Yuri opened his mouth to refute it, but nothing came out. 

Chloe smiled, chuckling.
Uncle and niece, bantering like they should. Not like a spy and their mortal enemy, but like family. 

The aunt, uncle, and niece sat at the Forger’s dining table.

“Unkie? I'm… I'm sorry.”

Yuri seemed taken aback.
"What for? Committing treason?”

"I put you between a rock and a hard place. You shouldn't have to choose between your job and your family." 

“If you’re sorry, then why did you kill so many of my coworkers?”

Chloe’s eyes widened.
That wasn't her, that was the Thorn Princess! But I can't say a thing or he'll ask why I know…”

Anya was speechless. Almost.
"I did what now?" 

“Yuri, Anya couldn't have committed last night's massacre. She was in the hospital, with broken fingers!"

Yuri didn't back down.
“You didn't have one of your slimy backstabbing colleagues break into our headquarters last night and kill seventy-four people?" 

Anya’s eyes grew wide, their deep green expressing either pure shock, or very good acting.
“Were… were they killed by small, circular stab wounds?”

"So you do know how it happened? Cough it up, or I'm taking you back to HQ.”

Chloe didn't waste a second. She slapped Yuri. Hard.
“You barely got out of yesterday unscathed, do you want Dr. Forger to kill you?" 

"What are you defending her for, are you a spy too?”

Chloe shifted to a scathing, mocking tone, a look of disgust on her face.
“Oh yes, of course I've been a spy secretly working with WISE for the last decade, what else could it be! It's not like I'm looking out for you! Don't be ridiculous, Yuri. You're a fool. We have a Western spy in our debt. Is that not infinitely more valuable than having one in a cell?”

Anya teared up. Was it from pain in her fingers, or from seeing her aunt and uncle yell at each other?
"St–stop fighting! I'll tell you, it was the Thorn Princess!" 

She knows that?!

Yuri tilted his head.
“The what?" 

“The Thorn Princess! She's an assassin, and uhh–”
The teenager paused, as if to find the right words.
"She's an acquaintance of mine. She found out about my torture and I bet she decided she wanted revenge…”

Yuri was silent—eyes wide, jaw hanging, if he couldn’t process the fact that his niece knew an assassin—one who had killed dozens of his coworkers.

What are the odds that Starlight knows the Thorn Princess, the very same assassin that Nightfall happened to run into last night? I guess she wasn't acting on Garden's orders after all. Simply a personal grudge.
“Can you tell her not to do that in the future? Our bosses are pinning the blame for it on you. On WISE. They're considering it an act of war.”

Anya looked horrified, but also melancholic and downcast.
"I…can't. She doesn't know that I know of her job.”

Yuri squinted at his niece with suspicion.
“And how do you know about her's?”

“It's like I said yesterday. I'm a spy. Knowing things is my jam! But she doesn't know that I'm a spy…" 

If I had a nickel for every spy this ‘Thorn Princess’ character knows without realizing they're a spy, I'd have two nickels…

Anya looked at the table, at her mangled hands, tears falling.
“I'm so frustrated. WISE doesn’t want war. We spend s–so much of our energy fighting with the secret police, when we really ought to be on the same side… We just want to st–stop a war, but cooperating is so hard–” she chokes, then continues “–when East and West can't just… trust each other!”

Amen, sister.
“You're right, Anya.”

Yuri looked at his partner like she grew horns (like Anya’s).

“We're always fighting. Always mistrustful. But we have the same enemies. We serve the same people. Maybe I'm being a bit too hopeful, but I think you have the power to end this.”
Chloe's gaze met Anya’s.
“Yuri and I? We’re in your debt. You didn't tell your family that Yuri was responsible for what was done to you. But also, you're in our debt. We helped you escape. In a way, it's mutually assured destruction. If either of us tattles, we're both going down. But it doesn't have to be like that. It doesn't have to be a mini cold war within our family. We can work together to open communications between WISE and the SSS. We can work together to open communications between Ostania and Westalis.”

Chloe looked as though she were speaking to Anya, but she wasn't. She was speaking to Yuri. Chloe was a spy, yes, but she wasn't heartless. Yuri may be her target, but she cared for him. She loved him. She knew he was a good man at the center, beneath all those prickly layers of obsession. Chloe's biggest regret weighs heavily on her heart. She was manipulating Yuri. She used him for a mission. She'll continue to do that for as long as she lives. For world peace. 

But she doesn't have to. With Agent Starlight, she has a chance to use Yuri’s obsession for good. He's a good man, being manipulated by the SSS. He's not the only one—Scarface is a good man too—but Yuri isn't as set in his beliefs.

If he can be convinced to work with Anya, we could cause real change. This cold war could end. 

“Chloe, what the hell are you talking about?”

This'll be harder than it needs to be.
She sighed, turning to Yuri.
"I'm saying that we need to work with Starlight. This cold war is fueled by a lack of trust, but you trust her, right?”

"I'll never trust a spy!”

"Can you trust that she loves your sister? That she wants the best for her?" 

Yuri didn't say anything. That was confirmation enough. 

“If the three of us trust each other, we can exchange information. We can get our agencies to work together, through us.”

"Chloe, you're delusional. Too optimistic. The world doesn't work that way. How are we supposed to get any information from WISE to Scarface? ‘Oh, I helped Starlight escape, and she gives me intel in exchange’? He'd never buy that!”

"He would.”
Both SSS officers turned to their niece in surprise, who continued.
"He's a good guy. I trust him. I’d be willing to give him information. I don't wanna put you two in danger though, so he can't know you two helped me escape. He'd also probably try to arrest me, so I need to find a way to feed him information without exposing myself…”
Anya looked contemplative. 

Yuri didn't seem convinced.
“How exactly do you propose we do that?" 

“Blackmail!" 

Huh? 

“Auntie, can you grab Papa's typewriter? It's in his office." 

“Hey, you wouldn't let me go in there! Why can she?" 

"Because you wanted to arrest Papa, just cause you don't think he's good enough for Mama. Auntie Chloe is normal about Papa.”

Chloe scoffed.
“You tried to arrest Loid Forger?" 

“It wasn't because of Yor, it's because I thought he was a spy! Turns out it's his daughter…”

If only you knew that it's both…

“But no, he's not a spy, Forger’s just insane! He’s got balls of titanium. No man with any sense of self preservation would tell me to my face that he knew I was SSS, that his daughter’s arrest was my fault, and then try to shoot me. There’s no way in HELL that guy is the master spy Twilight. No spy would throw caution to the wind to taunt an officer like that. He's scary as shit!”

"Unkie, Twilight's dead.”

"What?”

Chloe started laughing.
"You're behind the times, Yuri. She told us yesterday. You killed Twilight, eight years ago.”

"I did what?!’

Typewriter beneath Chloe’s fingers, the three were ready.

Anya spoke.
“Here's my plan. We have two problems. One, your bosses are after me. Two, I need to get information to your bosses. We can kill two birds with one stone—poor birds—by blackmailing them! We write a letter, something along the lines of ‘Hey, its Agent Starlight, protector of World Peace. I want to make a deal. I give you intel from WISE that can help stop wars, and in exchange you let me be free. Accept the deal, or’ …and that’s the part where I blackmail them.”

Yuri glared at his niece and let out a groan. With a scathing tone, he added, "They think Starlight killed seventy-four people in petty revenge.”
He slammed the table in anger. “Seventy-four!”

I’ve never been particularly close to our coworkers, but I can’t say the same for Yuri. He’s probably taking this pretty hard.

“Do you understand what I mean when I say seventy-four people are dead? Wilker will stop at nothing to catch you, even with the promise of intel and the threat of blackmail.”

“We don’t need to stop him from coming after me—Starlight—we just need to stop him from coming after me—Anya.”
Anya put emphasis on “me” the second time, as she gestured to herself. Sensing Yuri’s continued confusion, she continued.
“Wilker doesn’t know what Agent Starlight looks like. We just need to make the people who did see me shut up and not give him any details. That way, Anya Forger remains free.”

Chloe turned to Yuri.
"She's right. This Thorn Princess character burned our security footage. Most people who saw her were killed. It's just Scarface and Gascoigne who weren’t. They're the two that we need to silence if we want her to be free.”

Anya interjected.
“It's just Gas-Coin. Grampy Scarface isn't going to say anything.”

Grampy?

Yuri’s discontent remained.
"Why so confident in him?” 

Does he genuinely think this won't work, or is he just uncomfortable blackmailing his boss? We work in espionage. Of course you're going to have to do things you're uncomfortable with.

Yuri kept talking.
“He thinks you had a bunch of his closest comrades killed! People who had lives. Families. Pasts, futures. Hopes. Dreams.”
The man choked up as he said that last word.

Yuri… 

"He knows that it wasn't me. He's a smart guy."
Anya didn't elaborate past that, but neither SSS officer expected her to—her expression and tone made the statement absolute, despite it being vague.

Yuri’s eyes were glazed, gaze suspicious, still not convinced on what they were about to do. His words said otherwise.
“Whatever you say, Miss Ace Superspy. But do you even have blackmail on Gascoigne?" 

"He cheats on his wife.”

That was fast.
“Are you just guessing, or–”

"He cheats on his wife, Ruth, age 44, with four different women—that I know of. Vanessa Voss, age 24, Adriana Allen, age 23, Delilah Denkins, age 25, and Ilse Ingram, age 21. None of the four know about each other, although they do know that he’s married.”

Silence.

“Hey, it’s like I said! I’m a spy! Knowing things is my jam!”

Silence.

“It’s a normal thing to know! I promise!”

Thirty minutes later, the three had been unable to draft a letter that carried the correct tone. It needed to be threatening enough to be taken seriously, and yet not so threatening that it undermined its true purpose, which was cooperative at heart. A nigh impossible balance to strike.

“You guys suck at this.”

“Like you’re doing any better, you Chihuahua!”

Speaking of dogs, the Forgers’ great polar bear of a dog walked up to Anya’s chair, ears perking up.
“Borf!”

Anya pressed her forehead to the dog’s, closing her eyes. Her face scrunched up in contemplation for several minutes, before she opened her eyes and sat up straight. She spoke with a tone of utmost certainty, her expression absolute.
“I know someone who can help us with this. My most trusted informant. They’ll be here soon.”

She could’ve told us someone was coming earlier, but it’s like she just found out. She’s gotten no phone calls, no letters, nothing. But she sounds so… certain. How can anyone be certain about what will happen in the future? To concentrate for so long… It's like she was looking into the future!

Words from Chloe’s earlier briefing resurfaced in her mind.
From herself. “She used to be a Project Apple test subject.”
From Nightfall. “A human experimentation organization, creating psychic children.”
From Handler. “It would be a great boon for our operations if Agent Starlight was psychic.”

The undercover spy realized what her Handler hadn’t intended her to know.
Agent Starlight is psychic—clairvoyant, to be precise. She can see the future!

Chloe was so shocked by her revelation that she failed to see Starlight’s incredibly unimpressed stare.

Chapter Text

Monday, November 5th, 1962

Becky Blackbell’s Monday is going terrible. Nothing was going right. Everything awful was happening. Okay, that’s a slight overdramatization: only one bad thing happened.

Which is that Anya isn’t at school, so Becky is bored. She has the rest of their friend group, of course, but she isn’t as close with any of them as she is with Anya. Anya is the glue that holds their group together, that chaotic bubbly menace.

There’s Meg Montrose. She’s really nice, but she doesn’t exactly make for good company on her own, as her head is always in a book. Even if it’s not, she… rarely speaks. Becky’s grasp on sign language is improving, but it’s still rough. Anya usually translates for her, so when Anya is gone, Meg keeps to herself even more than she otherwise would.

There’s Connie Connell. An enigma, as if you could only really know what type of person she is by reading her mind—not that anyone can. She and Anya are surprisingly close in spite of that, as if they’re in on some secret that no one else is. Without Anya (whom she gets along with like a house on fire) she sticks with a gang of her own—Arnold, Tertius, and George, frequently known as “Connie’s Reverse Harem”, despite her firmly not liking boys that way.

There’s Bill Watkins. He’s in the “Cecile Girl Sextet”, despite being neither a girl nor in Cecile, wherein lies the issue—not that anyone in the group cares that he’s a boy, he’s one of them just the same—but they don’t get to hang out with him at most classes, as he’s in Wald.

Their group finishes with Alice Paulette. Becky didn’t particularly like her at first, due to how she had treated Anya in the past—she was jealous of Anya getting Damian’s attention, not knowing that Anya herself was oblivious. Still is, actually. Nonetheless, Becky could respect that Anya and Alice had grown friendly throughout the years as the best doubles pair on Eden’s tennis team.
The two had something of their own tennis friend group with Specter Hall’s Grace Fein and Jessica Clark, but the Specter pair didn’t often mingle with the Cecile group, so Becky didn’t really consider them her friends. Even Alice was on shaky ground, as Becky found her to be thorny and callous without Anya acting as a buffer.

Despite everything negative Becky has to say about her friend group, the six of them—Becky, Anya, Bill, Alice, Meg, and Connie—are still friends. Becky just tends to see everyone critically—except Anya. Without her at school today to glue the group together, they don’t get up to much.

Of course, there’s also her other friends who aren’t as tightly knit into the group.

There’s Freddy Reale, a kind boy who frequented Anya’s side—and therefore Becky’s—as he was perhaps the only student remotely near the pinkette in economic standing (Anya’s household income was still an order of magnitude below his). He was first and foremost Anya’s friend, but he considered Becky a friend as well. 

On the complete flip side, there’s Tertius III—does he even have a last name?—Prince of Septevia, a boy with the second largest ego Becky knew. Despite that, he attempted humility, going out of his way to “befriend the poor” (Anya and Freddy) to “learn their ways” (hang out with them). Tertius may be snobby, but he wasn’t a dick. Unlike some. Becky sometimes wondered if he was placed at their school by divine intervention purely to act as Damian’s foil. 

Oh, the love triangle that was her social life, Damian and Tertius fighting over poor Anya’s affection… although Anya didn’t realize it, and Tertius didn’t care. He clearly saw Anya as nothing more than a friend, so it was really just Damian who saw the boy as a love rival (that jealous snob). Tertius actually enjoyed pulling his leg by acting as if he was preparing to ask out Anya—attempting to coax the jealous scion into beating him to the punch.
In that, Tertius and Becky became great friends, with their common goal.
The Damianya ship will sail one day, and I’m glad Tertius works with me to get it afloat.
But because Tertius is in Specter hall and Freddy in Hamilton, Becky didn’t see either of them today. So, she’s bored. No friends around her.

Even Arnold Crowley, whose pompous attitude and insistence that he knew more than everyone else drove Becky up the wall, wasn’t present to glare menacingly at.

There’s George Glooman, of course. A surprisingly decent guy, even if he is… gloomy. In the right circumstance—that is, when he isn’t being depressing—Becky could see him as a friend.
(It was not currently the right circumstance.)

The only people left in Becky’s class today that she could really talk to freely would be…
Them.

Desmond and the E’s.

There’s Egeburg. Becky doesn’t particularly like the company the girl keeps—damn you, Desmond—but she made Becky feel something. Especially when she threatens to have her family sue anyone who still insists on calling her “Ewen”. Especially now that she stopped piling her hair a foot high with gel and just let it’s natural length and beauty show…
Oh Evelyn, I want to run my fingers through it and…
Becky cut off her train of thought. She’s getting distracted.

Elman is… Elman. No comments. Becky only tolerates him because he’s near Egeburg and Desmond (who she tolerates because Anya asks her too—because her best friend is definitely into the boy).

Desmond is a pompous brat. Greatest ego on God’s green earth. Becky hates his guts, but…
For Anya? She’ll die trying to get those two to kiss. It’s her life goal. Everyone and their mom knows that Desmond is into her… except for Anya.

Take that, Crowley. You may tell anyone who’ll listen about how Anya Forger can totally definitely read minds, but that’s beyond ridiculous. Even if psychics were real, Anya? She’s as clueless as can be. If she were a telepath? Then she wouldn’t be as blind to Desmond’s affections as she is.

Speaking of Desmond, he looks as bored as Becky feels. It’s as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself when Anya isn't there. No mess of pink curls to get his mind lost in. Heck, Becky doesn’t even know why Anya is gone!

She hadn’t mentioned anything on Friday. She hadn’t called. She hadn’t even left a mysteriously encrypted note in her locker!

Is Anya sick?
That girl has the immune system of a tank, given she’s grown up eating her mother’s cooking. She never gets sick.

It’s not like Anya to just skip school. Well, it is, but school was short today, morning classes only, and Anya is nothing if not pragmatic. If she were going to skip a day of school, she would seek to make the most of it—skipping a full day, and talking her friends into skipping with her.

What gives?

“Blackbell! Daydreaming is inelegant!”

As soon as class was out, Becky had Martha drive her to the Forgers’ apartment.
“Milady, I do believe it would be polite to call before showing at the Forger residence.”

“You know they won’t care. Finding a phone would be a waste of time! I need to make sure Anya is okay!”

The woman simply sighed. At least Dr. and Mrs. Forger were used to her lady’s unexpected visits. The two trekked up the stairs to the Forgers' door, and Becky burst right in. 

“Anya! Where were yo–"
Within the span of 3 seconds, a great many things happened, which Becky could not keep up with.

She saw Anya sitting at her dining table with two adults—a black haired man and a magenta haired woman—who she didn't recognize. 

The man pulled a gun from his side and aimed it at the door. Martha leapt in front of Becky, drawing a taser from her side. The woman kicked the man in the knee, causing him to drop his gun. Martha fired. The man yelled out in pain. 

Anya slammed her face into the table in frustration. Becky looked at Anya’s hands.
What happened? Why are they in casts?

The man ripped the taser probes out of his chest unflinchingly.
“So, you're the Blackbell brat who's been helping this spy?”

Spy? Are they roleplaying?
"Anya, what's going on?”

"You weren't supposed to say that, Unkie."
Unkie? 

Becky realized that the man did look remarkably like Yor.
“Anya? What’s going on?"
I thought she was too old to roleplay as a spy…

The pinkette sighed. She held her arms up to Becky, allowing her to get a close look at the casts. She gently moved the cast an inch down her right arm with her left, and Becky saw the tip of one of her fingers. All blood. No nail.
Becky flinched—even though it was Anya’s finger.
“I wasn't at school today because I got arrested yesterday. For being a spy. They… they tortured me. They broke my fingers. Pulled out my fingernails. They almost drowned me.”

Anya grimaced, remembering the events of the previous day.

"Oh, okay."
Becky let her friend's words catch up with her, as she looked upon the girl's face and saw uncharacteristic seriousness.
Wait. She's serious! That's horrible! What the hell? How is she still alive?
Different words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“You're a spy?” 

Anya’s uncle yelled out in anger.
"You didn't tell her? She's your ‘most trusted informant’ and you didn't tell her?" 

Aww, I'm Anya’s most trusted?
Wait, no. Not the time, Becky. She’s hurt.

Anya glared at her uncle, before turning to Becky—still more serious than she had ever seen the girl before.
“I guess more truthful introductions are in order. I’m Agent Starlight, Western Intelligence. Anya Forger is my alias. Becky, this is my Unkie Yuri and my Auntie Chloe. They work for the secret police.”

“The wha?”

"The State Security Service, milady.”

"Ohh…"
Wait, what? Were they the ones to arrest her? Did they torture her?

“They helped me get out yesterday! Anyway, I'm so glad you're here, Becky. We need your help!”

Becky’s mouth moved before she could stop it. She agreed. Afterall, it’s what she always does; friends help each other.
“Oh, sure!"

Martha looked at Anya with concern, before turning to Becky.
“Milady, I think it would be best if we left Miss Forger to her… own devices.”

Anya glared at Martha.
"You can't tell anyone. No one. Not my parents. Not Becky's. No one. It's top secret.”

The woman sighed.
“Of course not.”

Anya squinted with suspicion.
"I'm serious! You can't tell anyone, I'll pay you to stay quiet! I'll…”

She walked up to Martha, looking into her eyes with an intense verdant gaze.
“I'll buy you flowers. How do… daffodils sound?”
She spat the word with uncharacteristic venom.

Martha was silent.
Are those her favorite flowers? I never knew.

Martha and Anya looked at each other, each with more emotion in their eyes than Becky had ever seen them have. Anya, pleading. Martha… angry?

5 seconds.
10 seconds.
15 seconds. 

“Very well. I'll return for you in a few hours, milady."
With that, Martha left the apartment, closing the door.
What was that about?

Anya let out a sigh of relief.
“Becky? How good are you at blackmailing people?" 

Oh? This is going to be fun.
“Well you know me, Blackmail’s my middle name!”

“Really? I thought it was Beatrice.”

Becky's mind was spinning, from everything she’d been told in the last ten minutes.

Her best friend, Anya, was a spy. If she didn’t know any better, Becky would’ve thought her best friend was in some elaborate roleplay, but her wounds were real.

Of course, it's an open secret that Anya Forger is the ‘token Westalian’ of Eden College. 

When they were younger, Anya occasionally got picked on by kids parroting their parents' beliefs. They would say that she can't be trusted, that Westalians are evil horned demons who eat people. 

Throughout the years, Anya singlehandedly reversed the average Eden student's opinion on Westalians. Horned yes, cannibalistic demon no. Evil? Hardly. Anya Forger is known for her heroism. Most of her Stellas came from saving people.

She's only really Westalian because her dad is from the West; she's hardly ever been; all her experience in Westalis was having gone to pre-school there and the occasional vacation.

So for her to actually be a spy? Literally exactly what the stereotypes of Westalians suggest? Wow. Becky didn't even know what to think.
What was her mission, to increase Ostanian opinion of Westalians? It definitely worked. 

“So let me get this straight. You're a Western spy. You were captured and tortured yesterday. These two helped you escape, but now the other cops are after you. They don't know your name, just what school you go to, and a few of them know what you look like. You need to blackmail the few who do?”

"Yep!" 

“I'm going to be honest, if your hands weren't like this right now, I wouldn't believe you. What does Westalis even want with a spy at Eden?”

Anya’s uncle—Mr. Briar—butted in.
“So that she can make friends with powerful kids and pry intel from you about your parents without you being any the wiser." 

“Wait, what?”
Becky’s heart dropped.
Wha–
What?

Anya shot the man a glare.
“I mean, that's part of it… Befriend Sy-on Boy and change his opinion so that he won't grow up to hate Westalis like his Papa. I know it feels… backstabby, but I do it for world peace! I can learn about weapon sales from you, about military movements from Bill, about political plots from Sy-on. I need to make sure we won't have another war, and people at Eden have parents who would be the most likely to be able to start a war. That's really the biggest part of my mission. Protect my friends. If anything happens to you and the West is blamed, we’ll have a war! It's the biggest, most important mission we've ever done.”

Becky’s dismay was… intense. Anya winced as if she could feel the emotions herself.
“You’ve… used our friendship for information? You’ve betrayed me? Our country?”
How long has she been doing this? Using our friendship to help the West destroy us?

Anya gave Becky a dark, cold, glare. One as distant and unfeeling as the stars themselves.
“Betray our country? Our country? I have no country. Not Ostania. Not Westalis. We kill each other over a line on a map! That’s what I want to stop. As long as Agent Starlight is working, East and West will never have war! War killed Papa’s mama. War killed Mama and Unkie’s parents. War killed all of Papa’s friends, all of Uncle Scruffy’s siblings. It’s thanks to war that Henderson never married Martha! It’s thanks to war that Papa is missing an eye. It’s thanks to war that Mama had to work the worst of the worst jobs when she was no older than we are, to keep Unkie from starving! War… war is evil. Don’t even get me started on what the last war did to Mom! Thanks to the war, she was presumed dead, lived in a prisoner of war camp from when she was six until she was nineteen, and only left after the war ended—already pregnant with me! It’s thanks to the war that Papa isn’t my biological papa! It’s thanks to the war that Mom didn’t know Grammy even though they were both alive! It’s thanks to the war that my Auntie Fiona lost her parents, her brother, and her son! I know that hate is a strong word, and to hate is wrong, but I. Hate. War. I don’t hate Ostania for what the war took from my papa, just as I don’t hate Westalis for what the war took from my mama! I hate war itself. You know who starts wars? It’s the people on top. The elite of the elite. The people who’ve never wanted for anything a day in their life. Sy-on Boy’s parents. Your parents. Our classmates' parents. Do you know who gets hurt by war? I do! Everyone else! The West hurts. The East hurts. Millions die! For what? So that the rich can get richer by selling weapons. That’s why I’m a spy! I’ll do whatever I can to make a world where no other kid has to cry. In an instant, no second thoughts. If it means that no boy will be left with nothing except a gun and a grudge, like Papa was? Then yes, I’ll kill people! If it means that no girl will be forced to go into a man’s room and do unspeakable acts so that she might pay for her brother’s meal, like Mama did? Then yes, I’ll throw away my childhood for the mission! If it means that no person will grow up behind bars, having never known freedom, barely living a life at all?! Then yes, I’ll endure the torture. I’ll make friendships and stab them in the back, if it means the information might stop a nuke from falling. I’ll allow the guilt of betrayed trust to eat away at me, rip me apart for as long as I live. I’ll throw my life on the line to protect Damian’s life if it means Donovan Desmond won’t assassinate his own son so that he might blame it on Westalis and start a war! Because guess what? He’s been doing that!”

Becky was struck silent, while Anya—tears across her face—breathed in and out, fast and harsh, out of air from yelling for so long.

So that’s why she’s always muttering about “World Peace”… What has Anya had to do in her job? She threw away her childhood. I mean I know she was tortured yesterday… what else? What has Loid been through… I know he’s a veteran, but ‘a boy with a gun and a grudge’? Was he just a kid, as a soldier? And he lost an eye? What has Yor been through? Forced to go into a man’s room and do unspeakable acts… So she was a prostitute? She’s so strong… Anya’s been putting up with so much. She has put up with so much. And I got angry over what, that she didn’t tell me something I’m probably not supposed to know anyway?

“I–I got carried away. I’m sorry, Becky. I don’t blame you or Blackbell Heavy Industries for the war, it’s just… your family is one of the ones with the most to gain were a war to start, and so…”
Her voice faded away in shame.

Anya…
"Anya? I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you. I… I don't care if you're a spy. I trust that you’ll do what you think is best, always. You may be Agent Starlight now, but you’re Anya too. Anya Forger first, Agent Starlight second. You’ve always been Anya Forger. You’re my friend, first and foremost. It's not like we became friends because you're a spy, after all, we've been friends for so much longer!”

Anya looked at the floor awkwardly.
Silence. 

“Anya?" 

“Becky, I've been doing this for so, so, so long. Remember the busjacking, in first grade? I didn't panic when I had a bomb on my neck because I'd already been trained to recognize bombs. That one was a fake. No gunpowder smell, no real wiring, nothing. I’ve been a spy since I was five.”

Becky remembered the busjacking all too well. Their class, taken hostage so that they could be used to pressure their parents politically.
She’s protected us her whole life… She stood up to the hijackers because they were trying to use us to sway our parents! Of course Westalis wouldn't want terrorists to be able to influence the Ostanian government. Wasn’t her eighth Stella from stopping some guy from killing Damian? She's been doing this since she was five? No wonder she's so tough… I can't imagine what she's been through.

Wait…
“Does this mean the Octopeople were real?”

“That's the first thing you thought of?”

“Yes." 

Anya sighed.
"I was on a cruise, and I found out that there were a bunch of assassins trying to kill this escaping Mafia lady. She was being protected by this other assassin, but it turns out that the bad guys were going to blow up the boat anyway to kill her so I needed to find all the bombs… stressful vacation. They had to cover the whole incident up because the bombs were supposed to look like they came from Westalis.”

Becky was horrified.
“Why were you bragging about that in class???"