Chapter Text
Cha-Chunk
The sound of the pistol slide slamming home seemed deafening in the silence of the WISE panic room. Similarly to the Garden, WISE had set up a network of hideouts and drop-points for their operatives to use as they pleased. Finding himself in the communication room of the two-room bunker, agent Twilight brooded darkly. Now that Anya had finally fallen asleep after much comforting and coaxing, she and Yor were sleeping in what could charitably be called “the bedroom” the steel door over. The cold concrete and harsh fluorescent lights that made up the panic room was a far-cry from the warm, inviting walls of the Forger apartment, but it was a necessary substitute considering the circumstances.
“ I can’t believe I got played like that.” Loid reflected in furious frustration, “ Me, Agent Twilight, bugged! Even worse… I’ve been burned.”
It was a vulnerable and horrible experience, the knowledge of his true identity in the hands of someone else. Donovan might as well have peeled off his skin for all the discomfort and crushing anxiety he felt. Tomorrow, his face could be on every newspaper from Berlint to the Westalian border: the death sentence for anyone in his profession.
Unconsciously he started pacing, the rhythm of his stride matching the racking of the pistol.
“ Fuck!” he cursed internally, his mind refusing to slow down. “ If he’s got me, then that means anyone and everyone associated with me is fucked. Franky, Fiona, Yor… maybe even Handler if he’s lucky enough. Goddammit. GOD-”
“It’s a bad habit, playing with guns like that,” his fake wife interjected suddenly.
Whipping his head around, he found Yor had managed to sneak up behind him. Dressed to kill, she cut a fierce figure, beauty meshing with violence in a stunning matrimony. He took a deep breath and turned away from her.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he accused.
“Shouldn’t you?” she retorted.
“You're not meeting with Donovan tomorrow.” he replied sternly. “Besides…” he began, a hint of weariness slipping into his tone. “I’m not certain I could sleep even if I wanted to.”
“Loid, this isn’t… productive,” she said, moving around to face him and placing her hand on top of the pistol. “Put the gun away and rest.”
He hesitated, the weight of the world threatening to collapse his shoulders. Then he pulled back from Yor, and drew himself up to his full height.
“I am fine. Go to bed.” he commanded in a tone that would brook no argument.
Unfortunately for him, Yor would not be dissuaded by harsh words. “You are the opposite of fine!” she hissed. “You’re pacing like a caged animal, look tired as hell, and that vein in your head is about ready to burst” she said, pointing to the bulging vein on his temple.
Ignoring her, he leaned his back against the wall and sunk to the floor. Fixing his stare at the wall in front of him in a death trance, he began pulling the slide back on his pistol again. In response, Yor’s glared at him with burning eyes, but he gave no acknowledgement of her presence.
“Fine, be that way!” she huffed angrily.
“ Christ!” she thought exasperated. “ Why do I even care? He’s lied to me at every possible turn. The ambush, Fiona… I was an idiot to think that one good day would change anything. He’s a spy and I’m an assassin, end of story.”
Just as she turning to leave, she heard him say, “I’m sorry, but some things… some things you just have to do alone.”
Looking back at him, Yor noticed both of his hands were trembling slightly, that his jaw was clenched tight and his stare a million miles away. She recognized the sight very well; it was the same look she had when her parents passed and the monumental task of taking care of Yuri had fallen to her.
“... Goddammit,” she cursed to herself.
Much to their mutual surprise, she found herself moving towards him. Sitting next to the man, she hugged his arm gently, pouring as much understanding as she could into the simple action.
“Yor… what are you doing?”
“Comforting my dumb husband,” she replied stubbornly.
He sighed, “Yor…”
“No I don’t wanna hear it.”
And so they sat, both adults trying to out-stubborn the other. The only marker of the passage of time was the steady, mechanical click of Loid’s handheld firearm.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Yor asked inquisitively, pointing towards the gun.
Loid looked down, seemingly surprised by the action himself. Then, a ponderous stare crossed his face and the silence stretched. Just when Yor was certain he wouldn’t answer, he responded, “Have you ever been shelled before?”
Surprised by the suddenness of the question, she blurted, “I- uh… no.”
“I didn’t think so…” he finished. As he recalled memories long past, Yor could see the fog of nostalgia and pain cloud his eyes. Continuing, he stated, “I haven’t told anyone this before… but my town was on the former Ostanian-Westalis border.”
“So you are a Westalian?” Yor asked gently.
“In the flesh,” he smiled grimly. “Anyways, when the war broke out, they hurled every damn bomb and shell they could find our way. ‘Couldn’t afford to get bogged down in urban combat’ I believe was the excuse they gave.”
Thinking back on the thoroughness of their destruction brought a bitter taste to his tongue like no other. The Ostanians had exterminated with extreme prejudice, laying waste to a new section of his hometown every day. There was a brutal science to the entire affair, an efficient and wanton passion that hadn’t allowed for a single surviving stone.
”And in spite of it all,” he suddenly chuckled. “In spite of it all, whenever the bombs would fall, my mother would sing to me,” speaking as if though the mere thought was incredulous. “I would scream and cry as soon as they fell, and she would spend hours calming me down. My mom could have been gathering food or trying to escape the city, but she spent all that time singing to me… She was killed in an artillery strike, while I was busy hiding in a bunker. One just like this,” gesturing to the cramped walls around them. “After that, it became a lot harder to ignore the bombs. Whether it was cause she was gone, or cause the Ostanians managed to push their artillery line forward I don’t know, but their presence became deafening.”
He paused again, surprised at how much the story had exhausted him. Yor squeezed his arm tightly and leaned into him.
“I’m sorry I asked,” she began apologetically “You don’t need to continue.”
“No… it's fine,” he responded gently, leaning back. “I need to finish now anyways… After she died, I had no one to look after me, so I traded some food for some pistol a looter stole from a dead soldier. The next time the bombs fell, I didn’t have her, so when I hid in a cramped bunker threatening to overspill with people, I let the gun sing its own mechanical melody,” he said, punctuating the statement with a click of the firearm. “Call it a bad habit, call it OCD, whatever it is, it gives me a rhythm to focus my mind to… it gives me control.”
The conclusion of his story left a strange silence between the fake couple. Both of them felt like they needed to reach out to the presence of the other, but neither were quite sure how to accomplish such a feat.
Then Yor softly sang,
“... And drift to sleep
O prince of mine
Beneath their silver shine…”
Inexplicably his eyes grew heavy as his head rested on Yor’s shoulder. Vaguely aware of the loosening grip on his pistol, Twilight soon found himself held in the soft embrace of sleep.
The day was overcast, muggy one. As the city began its slow process of waking up, Twilight sat in the Berlint cafe reading the morning news. It was an innocuous shop, resembling one of thousands of hip, trendy cafes in the city with warm wood floors and the ever present fragrance of coffee beans. However, it secretly served as a WISE meetup for informants and important witnesses. If Donovan tried anything, he would be trying it on enemy territory.
“If anything, and I mean ANYTHING, seems off, you call me,” he heard Yor say through his earpiece.
“ This entire situation is off,” he thought to himself. “ I can feel the SSS eyes all over the place. But Donovan hasn’t published my identity in the papers yet, so I can only assume that means he’s come to bargain. The SSS are just for insurance,” he noted as he saw one of them watching over the cafe on a nearby rooftop. “ As long as I got a mask on, I’ll be fine.”
Not voicing his concerns out loud, he responded, “I will, but you can’t be in the vicinity if Desmond actually decides to show. Stay on standby, elsewise you’ll scare him off.”
“I’ll scare him off?” she scoffed sarcastically.
“You know what I mean. The less he interacts with you, the better.”
Suddenly, Twilight felt the atmosphere of the cafe change. Making sure his mask was fitted on tightly, he scanned his surroundings. He couldn’t see anything, but even the air around him seemed more oppressive.
“They’re here,” he stated, removing the earpiece before Yor could say anything.
Sure enough, a black limousine began to pull up alongside the coffee shop. Even the car the political leader rode in looked imposing, the sleek, all black vehicle subtly projecting wealth and power. Four men exited the car, all dressed in suits and exuding professionalism. As they came closer, Twilight noted that one of them carried a briefcase.
“ Not the most innocuous approach, ” noted the agent as the four men approached, several bystanders glancing sideways at the group.
He raised his hand towards the group, beckoning them forward. The one with the briefcase, a dark-skinned man with a deep-set face and buzzcut, sat down and opened the container to reveal a telephone. The others stood in a ring around them, facing outwards.
“Me and my associates behind me will be monitoring this conversation.” the man said bluntly. “However, Mr. Desmond has assured me that your privacy is to be respected. As such, I will be wearing earplugs for the duration of the conversation. Pointing to a small bulb on the briefcase he continued, “Once the light here turns red, the call will be over and you will be free to leave.”
True to his word, the man grabbed ear plugs from his suit coat and inserted them into his ears. Loid looked down and heard the telephone begin to ring.
“ I didn’t think we’d meet face-to-face… but even this seems slightly excessive.” he thought to himself. “ Guess he really is scared of Anya reading his mind… that’s useful information.”
He picked it up and answered, “Desmond.”
“Forger,” came the reply, his voice sharp yet measured.
“Let me be brief,” the spy commanded coldly. “I can ruin your entire family legacy with a visit to Berlint Times. Resign as National Unity Party leader, cooperate with us, and maybe we’ll allow your family to keep your fortune when you're in jail.”
A small, arrogant chuckle emanated from the phone. A dark, velvety voice responded, “It’s never a good idea to build a working relationship off of a lie.”
“You think I’m bluffing?” Twilight challenged, making sure to keep his voice measured yet menacing.
“I think you’re lying to yourself.” A hint of venom slipped into his tone as he asked, “Do you know how many scandals I’ve faced? How many enemies try to defraud me everyday? You come here bandying threats I’ve heard a thousand times before, spy, and expect me to be moved?”
“An aggressive response,” The spy analyzed. “But an effective one nonetheless. As head of the National Unity Party, Desmond has an army of propagandists and newspapers dedicated to propping him up. A war of information would be costly for both sides.”
“I am well aware of your capabilities.” Twilight replied evenly. “I remind you that you are quite unaware of mine.”
“When I accepted your terms, I assumed you were a man ready to make reasonable negotiations.” Donovan stated, annoyed. “But let me be blisteringly clear: there are no ‘capabilities’ of any organization within Ostania to rival mine. Do not pretend otherwise.”
“Perhaps not…” Twilight began enigmatically. “But even a bear can be brought low when beset by wolves on all sides. Your enemies are numerous Desmond, and we both can easily imagine the damage they’d do if I gave them those files.”
A brief pause, then another chuckle came from the phone.
“You are an impressive man, Loid Forger,” he began. “Most men would not have had the decisiveness to turn the tables so quickly as you did last night. However, you are missing the bigger picture.”
Twilight frowned, anxiety slowly building. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.
“I am not interested in something as selfish as reputation,” drawled the political leader in a slow, heavy voice. “I am concerned with national security, with the nuclear asset you now possess.”
“... You mean Anya,” Twilight whispered in a low growl.
“Of course I mean her. She cannot remain in your possession.”
Twilight had to laugh, at the absurdity of the statement, and the fear that clenched at his heart.
“And what? Am I supposed to give her to you on good faith?”
“For world peace.”
Trying to cloak the confusion from his voice, he stated, “Elaborate.”
“There’s a decent chance, let’s call it 50%, of you managing to take me down if you publish those papers. But what then? What happens when the entire world knows that ESP is possible? What happens when they realize that Westalis has a girl with the capabilities to read any of their minds? That said girl was Ostanian and you’ve stolen her for your own designs.”
“Who said I was Westalian?”
“Don’t play dumb with me now. Besides, even if you aren’t, it hardly changes the equation. Ostania will cry for war against the country that stole her, and I imagine the international community would end up backing us in the face of such a threat.”
Suppress the rising panic in his voice, he replied, “The fact is that you funded child experimentation. The details of said experiments can be redacted.”
“Then you’ll have kicked the can down the road for our future generations to deal with. That information will see the light of day no matter what we do here if you publish those papers.”
“Why?” Loid finally, not bothering to hide his concern anymore. “Why do you even care about world peace, about Anya? You’re the National Unity Party leader.”
“You're a soldier… yes?”
Loid said nothing. Donovan took this as tacit confirmation and said, “I gathered as much from our first meeting. I was as well. I took on a fake identity and joined the army without my father’s permission… I wanted to be a hero.” A strained silence split the call for a moment, then he continued, “My first true taste of war was when we entered a city we’d been shelling for a month. There was hardly a lamppost left standing when we were finished. While we were sweeping the ruins for enemy soldiers, we came across a bunker that had once held nearly 40 people. By the time we opened it, there were less than 20. Do you know why?
“Enlighten me.”
“I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say after they ran out of food, they did not let the corpses of their fellow man go to waste. It was a sight that will live with me till the day I die. I helped cause that, and I do not intend for history to repeat itself.”
“Then why experiment on children… why Anya?”
He sighed, and for the first time, Loid could sense feelings besides arrogance coming through the phone. “There’s a line soldiers like us have to cross. If we’re lucky, we do what’s necessary, then we die. The problem starts when we don’t.
A slow fury started building up within Loid and he snarled, “Get to the point Donovan.”
“The point is that I know what I am. I’ve done terrible things, and I can’t take them back. But with Anya, I could make sure those things never happen again. Imagine it Loid. With her I can negotiate a peace to last a hundred lifetimes. I could root out all the corruption in Ostania and Westalis and expose anyone threatening world peace.”
“You’re insane,” he whispered, a deep knott settling in the pit of his stomach.
“Regardless of your opinion, those are my thoughts,” the man finished, his haughty, arrogant composure regained.
“I’m not giving Anya to you. Period.”
“Then you have nothing to offer me,” Donovan finished, sighing. “I will find her.”
“And you’ll find me there waiting for you, bastard,” Twilight replied. “Expose my identity and I’ll expose you, damn the consequences.”
Slamming the phone back down, he stood up abruptly. Glaring at the man facing him with enough intensity to melt lead he gritted out, “We’re done here,” and melted into the crowd behind him.
“ Damn… I don’t like bluffing like that.” Twilight agonized as he retreated quickly from view. “ But it buys me some time I desperately need. Having possession of Anya puts a target on my back, and I need to get rid of it as soon as possible. In anycase, I need to check back in with Yor.”
Reaching into his pocket, he put the earpiece back in place.
“So… how did it go?” Yor asked innocently.
“Holy shit,” whispered Fiona Frost, perched on the roof of a nearby building.
“ Twilight is negotiating with Desmond,” She thought as she saw the limousine with the unmistakable family crest of a griffin drive away. “Why though? What the hell was he saying… and why not tell us?”
At the behest of Slyvia, Fiona had not let up on her observations of the Forger family. Last night, she had noticed the entire family was missing from their apartment despite attempts to make it appear otherwise. By pulling some strings back at WISE HQ, she found out Twilight had entered one of their panic bunkers. As such, she was able to follow him to his meeting place despite his disguise. Reaching into her pocket the spy pulled out an earpiece and jammed it into her ear.
Speaking quietly into the receiver, she said, “Handler… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think Twilight is colluding with Donovan Desmond.”
“Jesus…” came the surprised reply from the small device. “Are you certain?”
“Not 100% but-”
Suddenly, Fiona felt movement behind her. She tried to spin around, but the person was already far too close, and grabbed her. Immediately she tried to draw her pistol, but the attacker’s hand shot out from behind and anchored her hand uselessly against her hip. Then, cold steel touched the bottom of her chin as she found a firearm pressed forcefully under her head.
The man behind her tutted, “Now, now traitorous trash… let’s not do anything we’d regret." Then, in an odd, enthusiastic tone the SSS officer continued, "I’m officer Yuri Briar, and I’m placing you under arrest for the high-crime of treason.”