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The capital of Ostania, Berlint. The man currently being climbed by a pink-haired child is Loid Forger, also known as the feared Westalian spy Twilight. The pink-haired girl is his adopted daughter, Anya, initially acquired in order to serve WISE’s long term project: Operation Strix. In service to this mission Twilight knows he must capitulate to his daughter’s demands and attend the live Bondman stage show in Central Berlint.
Which is how Loid Forger finds himself outside a suspiciously uncrowded auditorium with 2 tickets in hand. The hair on his neck sticks up as they approach the doorways and the lone ticket taker.
Calm down, Twilight , he thinks, you’re off the clock. No need to be paranoid. Maybe Bondman isn’t as popular as you expected.
It seems unlikely, based on Fiona’s extensive research into the TV audience of Bondman’s weekly new episodes. The off-the-charts numbers suggested that Bondman was the second most-watched show in Ostania, falling from the top spot only to the popular long-running soap opera Berlint in Love.
Still, nothing to be worried about. He had no idea how Anya even discovered the Bondman show was playing– it must have been so poorly advertised that only hardcore fans knew.
“Papa?” Anya squeaked from below, her eyebrows slanted downwards in concern. Children were so incredibly perceptive.
Loid let out a brief sigh and smiled down at his daughter. “Ready for the show?”
Anya nodded vigorously and jumped up, clapping her hands. Loid’s smile broadened as Anya tugged at his hand, stumbling after her.
The ticket taker was a heavy-set man with broad shoulders and no customer service manners. He grabbed the tickets from Loid’s hand, ripped them apart, and grunted. Twilight silenced the concerned voice from his head once more and headed inside.
The auditorium was empty. Not a single seat was occupied and the stage was bare of any decoration. Twilight immediately turned around, then crouched down to take Anya into his arms and exit. Something was wrong here.
But Anya had already sprinted down the aisle to the front row. “Papa! It’s time for Bondman!”
Twilight began to rise from his crouch only to feel the unmistakable shape of a pistol’s muzzle against the back of his forehead.
“Nighty-night, Loid Forger!”
Twilight heard the rush of air as the gun descended downwards. He prepared to remove it from the assailant’s hand before it could reach him when Anya cried, “Papa!”
He turned away towards his daughter and took a half step forward, “An-.”
And then the lights went out.
Twilight awoke to a throbbing headache and stiff arm muscles. The first injury was understandable– he knew the butt of the gun had hit home just as he’d moved towards his daughter. It wouldn’t be the first, or twenty-first, time he’d been knocked out in the field. The only real question was how much time had passed and where he was currently located.
His eyesight was curiously limited. Twilight assumed his kidnapper’s had done a poor job blindfolding him. However he was able to look ahead easily, it was only his peripheral vision that was obscured. An eye mask?
As for the pain in his arms, the lack of circulation and slight burning around his wrists suggested they were tied above his head. It wouldn’t take much to get out of them, but he’d have been speedier if he’d been able to relax his muscles before they were tied. Since he was unconscious at the time there wasn’t as much slack as he would have liked.
“Welcome to our special one-time-only Bondman stage spectacular!” Boomed an unseen voice from Twilight’s right.
“Papa! Papa!” Screamed Anya’s voice, likely just behind the announcer.
“Now, now, little girl. That’s not your Papa! It’s Agent Bondman!” Cajoled the first voice.
Twilight heard heavy steps approaching– male, over 150 pounds, likely with a military background. His steps had the even tempo of a man used to long parades through the wilderness.
The man’s face appeared in front of Twilight and he was proven correct– male, broad-chested, muscled and heavy in a distinctly military manner. He closely resembled the ticket taker in body shape, suggesting they were in cahoots.
“We couldn’t find the coat on such short notice, but figured the eye mask would do in a pinch,” the man continued jovially, poking at Twilight’s left cheek where the mask lay.
Twilight considered the current state of action– at least two assailants, plus one child hostage with no combat experience and minimal physical ability. Better to stay put until he could assure his daugh- the child’s- safety.
And better to keep his mouth shut until he knew what these men wanted and whether they knew his true identity.
“Your daughter is a big fan of Bondman, Dr. Forger. Made it easy to accidentally leave some tickets near her bus stop.” The man turned back to Twilight’s left and grinned widely, “Don’t take things from strangers, dear. You never know if they mean you harm!”
That was a ‘no’ on awareness of his side job, then. Twilight heard the short hitching breaths of his daughter, always a prelude to a spectacular display of tears.
Keep the hostage calm.
“It will be alright, Anya. It’s just a play! This is my colleague, Mister–” Twilight trailed off, nodding to the unknown man.
Catching on quickly, the man kept up his pleasant smile, “Mister Campbell. I’ll be playing the role of our villain today. Why don’t you take a seat with my… friend, Mister Reid.”
“Papa?” Trembled Anya, more timid than Loid had ever heard her.
“Everything’s fine. Take a seat with Mister Reid.”
Well done, Twilight. The hostage is calm and will soon be within your line of sight. Now to figure out what Campbell wants.
Anya and Reid, who Twilight recognized as the ticket taker, sat in the center seats of the front row, just feet from where Twilight was tied up. He’d assure that no harm came to his daughter, even if it meant taking some damage himself.
“Now, Agent Bondman,” Campbell began again, his bombastic voice echoing through the empty theater, “I understand you have access to some very important medical research. Some research my client is very interested in.”
He really does sound like a Bondman villain , Twilight thought, I hope that’s not what he speaks like all the time.
Thinking back to the most recent episodes of Bondman, Twilight attempted a facsimile of the voice actor’s performance, “What research?”
For all that Twilight was a world-renowned super spy with the ability to mimic almost anyone at will it turned out a Bondman impression was beyond his reach. Anya winced as Loid attempted the higher-tenor of Bondman’s voice. Clearly he needed to be paying better attention to these shows.
Temporarily taken aback by Twilight’s Bondman impression, Campbell cleared his throat and continued, “You know what research, Bondman! Don’t play dumb with me!”
Donning the disguise of Dr. Loid Forger, psychiatrist, Twilight frowned and murmured to Campbell, “I have no idea what research you’re talking about.”
Campbell’s face grew red and he threw his hands up in the air, cheating out towards Anya and Reid to deliver his next line, “If you won’t reveal the research’s secrets, I have no choice! Yandell, bring out the whip!”
Fully engaged in his Forger persona, Loid blanched and yelled out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m just a psy–” He saw Anya’s eyes widen, tears peeking out from her lower lashes, “Spy! Who doesn’t have access to any medical research!”
Campbell laughed pompously, the perfect villainous laugh for a cartoon like Bondman.
A third man, likely Yandell, walked out behind Loid’s field of vision. The crack of a whip against the wooden floor of the stage reverberated through Loid’s legs.
Campbell held up a switch-knife in front of Loid’s face, triggering the sharp edge of the blade to flick up in front of Loid’s nose. His grin turned shark-like as he tossed it over Loid’s shoulder.
“Make sure it hurts, Yandell.”
“There’s no need for this,” Loid Forger pleaded, “Please, just tell me what you’re talking about and we can work this out.”
The sharp sting of the knife’s blade cut through Loid’s sweater and button-down, carving a thin mark on his back. It was followed by 2 more until the chill of the air was against the entirety of Loid’s bare back. Twilight felt like he was in training again– Handler had done far worse to him– but it was important to keep up the Loid facade.
Yandell cracked the whip again, “We have ways of making you talk, Bondman.”
These are the worst lines I’ve heard in over a decade of spying. Even a children’s cartoon could do better.
Twilight tensed his muscles in preparation. They’d just be adding to the litany of scars across his back, anyway, and unless they specified what they wanted the spy had no leverage to avoid torture. In the front of the theater, Anya remained wide-eyed, seemingly caught between the excitement of watching ‘live Bondman’ and fear for her father.
Crack!
Yandell’s aim was bad, hitting closer to his belt than his uncovered back. But better that than the tender organs on his sides. Still, Loid Forger had never felt a whip before and it would be better if he cracked quickly. As long as he could sell that it was all a show to Anya nothing would be hurt but Twilight’s pride. And that wasn’t worth risking Operation Strix for.
Yandell’s second go barely managed to hit his back at all, but Loid still let out a piercing scream, “Just tell me what you want!”
Anya’s eyes were wide and watery again as she yelled out from the ‘audience,’ “Be brave, Bondman!”
The third whip finally hit home, too close to Twilight’s spine for comfort. It stung terribly and likely drew blood, judging from the wet sensation trickling down towards his waistband. He shouted out once more.
“I’ll tell you anything, just tell me what you want!”
Whether it was due to Bondman’s distinct lack of bravery or actual fear for her father, Anya broke and dashed towards the stage. However, she was too short to climb it and Reid snatched her back.
“Don’t touch her!” Twilight shouted with real urgency.
“Papa!” Anya wailed as Reid began to pick her up.
Twilight considered dislocating his thumbs to escape his bonds, staring down Reid with burning hatred, when Reid suddenly toppled over.
Silence.
It was all the more noticeable for swiftly ending the shouts of both father and daughter as well as the crack of the whip.
Sticking out from the back of Reid’s head was a golden stiletto, perfectly aimed to avoid too much gore but thrown with enough force to pierce his brain and provide instant death. Anya was trapped underneath his outstretched arm, unable to move but not crushed.
It was time to end this.
Twilight yanked at the rope tying his wrists, already partially worn away by prior exertions, hearing the snick-snack of rope strands breaking under pressure. It wasn’t enough to free him entirely but escape was close at hand.
Twilight turned to his half-blinded left side at the sound of an aborted scream. Campbell was down too, then. He needed to escape before the mysterious assassin decided to kill Anya as well.
A third yank and the rope was broken, sending Twilight to the floor in an ungainly half-crouch. The rush of blood into his over exerted limbs stopped him for a moment, just enough for Yandell and his damnable whip to appear in front of him. The torturer looked into the upper rafters.
“Who’s there? Uhck-” With that, Yandell was down too, a stiletto through his heart.
Twilight rolled off the stage to reach Anya, guarding her with his shaking body.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.” His voice was raspy from screaming but Loid hoped it would still be reassuring.
“Papa!” Anya sobbed into the floor, still underneath Reid’s limp arm.
They stayed that way for a moment, Twilight waiting for the sharp bite of a golden knife through his flesh as Anya howled into the floor.
But there was nothing. Twilight chanced a look into the same rafters Yandell had gazed at to see a dark shadow disappearing into the unlit catwalk. Drawing on the last reserves of his strength, legs still slightly wobbly, Twilight started climbing onto the stage in order to reach the assassin.
“Papa, don’t leave me!”
Loid stopped in his tracks. Without conscious thought he was at Anya’s side again, lifting away Reid’s dead limb and hefting her into his arms. “Keep your eyes closed.”
Anya let out a hiccuping sob, nodding.
“Your Papa promises nothing bad will happen, okay?”
She nodded again, face smushed into his shoulder and arms grasped tight around his bicep. Without taking another look at the scene Loid hustled them through the door and into the outside, thankful for the fresh air and freedom.
The chill bit into the marks on his back, causing Loid to bite back a gasp.
“Papa, can I open my eyes now?” Anya moved her face away from Loid’s shoulder but kept her eyes clenched closed.
“Yes, Anya. You’re safe.”
Huge tearful eyes met his own and Twilight’s cold heart melted. WISE could deal with the crime scene and their mysterious savior in the rafters; he and Anya were going home.