Chapter Text
Having been an informant in the underworld for a very long time, Franky knew the importance of word of mouth in a setting where more flagrant advertising is virtually impossible. He knew that any time he interacted with a client, anything he said could travel far, perhaps with a few distortions along the way.
When he told Fiona Frost (codename: Nightfall) that even skilled agencies like WISE could never find him if he wanted to disappear, with “The Quill” as a witness, he knew those words would come back to him with a few small transformations.
He also knew that, like a parent’s estranged children coming back home, it might come back in a much more unexpected way. Just two days before Yor held a dagger to his throat, one of his primary trusted contacts approached him and told him that a special anonymous organization would like his services and provided a public rendezvous point where he could receive the request.
Meeting in a public location was crucial, for both parties are aware of the potential dangers of secluded spots, recognizing that the safety of being hidden in plain sight was more valuable as long as both parties were cognizant of prying eyes and ears. On a café patio, Franky sat across the table from someone who looked to everyone else like a harmless old man, but he knew this wasn’t an average client.
The old man spoke first. “We understand that you’re skilled enough that you could disappear anywhere without leaving a trace. Is this correct?”
Without leaving a trace, huh? The man’s appraisal made Franky sound like an actual magician, and he suspected that they had already achieved this exaggerated form by the time The Quill told somebody. I know he can be a pretty friendly guy, but he needs to rein it in. Regardless, he nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Before the man could ask anything else, Franky already knew he had leverage here. Based on the circumstances and their inclination to remain anonymous, he could tell the man hailed from a sophisticated organization with deep roots. Making someone disappear shouldn’t have been too difficult for them, but if they needed to resort to a distant third party that they’d only just now needed to contact, then it was clearly an unusual case where they’ve exhausted all their options. He kept this in mind when the man prodded him about his skill.
“Hypothetically, are you capable of forging the documents for someone to disappear to, say, Uspeau?” the man asked.
Franky found it a strange and near impossible place to send someone, but he hid his surprise to maintain the illusion. “I know a guy who knows a guy.”
Connections are everything, and somehow this group didn’t have them while he did. Or at least, he claimed he did. But in his mind, Franky really could think of a few guys who might know a guy that could send someone there, though there was a level of uncertainty to that “might” which he couldn’t let slip.
“I see,” the man said. He knew it wasn’t exactly a guarantee, but it was the best option they had. “We will be dispatching a very skilled operative to your quarters in two days. She will inform you of the specific instructions and you will help her contact any other assets. Remember that while you are an asset, she will not hesitate to kill you if you do not cooperate, or if you are lying about your capabilities. Understand?”
Way to threaten your last resort, Franky thought as he nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
The man gave him a copy of a card bearing the planned time of their meeting and the exact address of one of his hideouts; it was the same one he hid in when Fiona came to his doorstep. Wow, these guys are good.
He smiled, seemingly as if to show some admiration, and the man acknowledged it before he left. Thankfully, the man couldn’t have guessed that all along the smile was mostly fueled by one word…
“She.”
While sitting in the café, Franky envisioned a very beautiful, dominating, and single assassin in desperate need of a husband to mitigate suspicion from the Secret Police. And who could possibly say no to this dashing genius gadgeteer they worked with on a mission?
He thought about the first few weeks of their sordid affair: She’s mean to him at first, given that she’s a ruthless killer, but that would make her even hotter! Then as she gets to know more about him, she’ll sympathize with his struggles and fall deeper in love, revealing a gentler angel within. Then she’ll teach him how to use her weapons, so he can be just as strong as her! They could be partners in crime! And they know if the Secret Police ever closes in on either of them, they can escape together anywhere they want, all thanks to his connections.
Just like with Fiona, he set up the same exact routine by littering the entrance to his quarters with traps. And then he planned to hold them masked at gunpoint as they walked into his door, proving how tough and cool he is. The steps after this were a bit muddy in his head, but somehow it was definitely going to lead to love at first sight.
Deep inside, he knew this fantasy was absurd and that it would fall apart instantly. Though he never could’ve predicted the exact reason it would fall apart.
Here he was two days later in his dumb little mask, looking at the assassin: Yor Forger, a.k.a. Twilight’s wife. Although he was gracious enough to immediately accept that this meant his dreams of an assassin girlfriend were crushed, he didn’t have much time to mope about it as a myriad of other questions flooded his mind.
“I won’t force you to take that mask off, but are you okay to speak?” Yor asked with an ineffable mixture of politeness and menace, making Franky turn serious.
As insane as this entire situation was, he understood that he was still a professional and Yor was his client, and that he couldn’t help her while hiding behind a stupid veil. He took his mask off.
Yor gasped. “Franky?!”
Both Yor and Franky stared at one another in total shock. Even though Franky had a head start whilst wearing the mask, he was still having trouble summoning words now that they both shared a mutual feeling of surprise.
Yor was the first to make an attempt. “Franky... Y-You’re the asset?” Did I misread the address? Is F.F. really him?? ‘Weak and unassuming’??? She looked more closely at Franky’s body. ...Well, they weren’t exactly lying about that.
At last, Franky regained the will to speak. “A-And you’re the highly skilled assassin that was sent to work with me?!” Yor looked down in embarrassment.
He was careful with his words. “Yor, I’d really like to give you the benefit of the doubt. Did you marry Loid just so you wouldn’t be suspected by the Secret Police?” He already knew the answer, for Loid and Yor mutually agreed it was fake from the start, but she wouldn’t really know that he was aware of this.
“Yes, I did,” she said, and Franky recalled his words to Loid from long ago: “So you want a woman who’s okay with a child-raising divorcee, is elegant enough to seem upper-class, and is willing to legally marry you in the next 48 hours? If a goddess like that existed, I’d love to see her myself!” Suddenly, this entire arrangement made sense.
Franky nodded. “I see. And if you don’t mind me asking, what kind of people do you kill?” Please don’t be spies or underground informants, he thought.
Yor summoned a righteous, resolute expression. “I weed out evildoers only! I target terrorists and any other traitors to Ostania.”
“I see.” Franky was half-relieved. Knowing she came from a vigilante organization, or at least one that claims to be, was still better than one that killed anyone you wanted for some cash. And although “evildoers” and “traitors” certainly didn’t exclude spies in a country where they’re treated like devils, it was also still better than outright being the Secret Police under a different name.
After some silence, it was Yor’s turn; to her, the true nature of Franky’s relationship with Loid was now a little opaque. “And I have to ask you, Franky: Does Loid know you’re an informant?”
He paused, searching for a midpoint between the truth and a lie. It wasn’t as if “informant” was such a tainted job title on its own; some informants worked for the government, after all. “Yes, he knows. But he doesn’t know that it goes this deep. He thinks that I just tell the police about criminals.”
She nodded in understanding, and following this brief discussion of her husband, she thought of what she had just done to one of his friends and panicked, letting her daggers down. “Franky, I’m so sorry for threatening you earlier. I didn’t know it was you! I promise I don’t want to hurt you!”
Franky blinked, feeling as if he had managed to completely disarm her without even doing anything. “No no, it’s okay, Yor! I guess I didn’t come off as very friendly putting you at gunpoint immediately, hehe...”
Franky relaxed, albeit still acknowledging he couldn’t fully trust Yor just yet. Something still bugged him about her organization, especially the vaguely familiar phrase “weeds out,” but he pushed it down for now and reset his face to a more dignified expression. “Okay, Yor, I’m gonna be honest with you. I have a lot of questions for you, and I will ask them later. But we have a job to do in the meantime.”
Yor nodded. “I understand, but no matter what… please don’t tell Loid about this.”
“Of course not,” Franky said, looking entirely serious. “Considering I’m working with you as a freelancer, it would be unprofessional if I revealed anything that happens tonight.” Also, you guys would definitely kill me. That’s not even a question.
Yor regained her resolve. “Right.”
“So what exactly does your organization need?” Franky asked.
“Currently, we’re trying to help two friends of ours escape to a different country. However, escaping by sea isn’t an option. They’ve requested to escape to Nordria. They’ll require forged papers with state seals for their new identities,” Yor said.
He was surprised. “Nordria? Wow, that’s a tough one. That would be the last place I’d think to go if I wanted to disappear.” He thought about it for a moment, determining that this wasn’t even within The Quill’s skill set, so he couldn’t call him; thanks to Fiona, reaching him again was unlikely anyway.
Nordria was rife with internal political turmoil, and it’s notoriously stringent with immigration, so finding anyone with the ability to forge papers would be difficult. Now he understood why such a sophisticated criminal organization would end up at his doorstep. He wondered why the two would even want to go there in the first place, and with that he recalled a man who spent some time there himself.
Franky began. “Okay, bear with me here because this will require more than one connection and it isn’t guaranteed, but I actually know a guy who spent a long time working as an army doctor at Nordria. Right now, he treats criminals in the underground scene but he’s very skilled and takes in all kinds of clientele. And I’m very confident he knows someone who can get you the papers you need.”
Yor smiled. “That’s great, Franky! I’m curious… How do you have deeper connections than us?”
Franky grinned. “Trust. It’s all that matters in the underworld, and when you’re an informant you figure out how to earn it. It’s really not easy, but friendliness goes a long way even in a world full of ruthless killers. I’m sure your organization runs deep and they’ve gained a lot of trust, but there’s only so much you can do when you dispatch hitmen who introduce themselves by putting a dagger at your throat.”
“That’s not fair! You held me at gunpoint!” Yor protested. And you made me go through all those pointless traps.
“Okay, you’re right.” He thought about telling her the gun was harmless and just shot out a flower as an attempt to seduce pretty ladies, but he figured it was not important, and he wasn’t really in the mood to make a romantic joke for someone he had no intention of asking out.
“Anyway, if we want to get in touch with our first guy, I’ll need to call him to make a special appointment. He’s not fully in hiding, so the phone lines should be safe. Thankfully, I don’t think he’s very busy right now,” Franky said.
“Wonderful!” Yor said.
The Forgers really are something. Helping Twilight with a mission is one thing, but helping his wife who’s really an assassin? What a family, he thought. As Franky went to get the phone, he ran through many of the potential implications of this.
Ranking high on the list was the idea that Yor was dispatched a long time ago to eventually kill Twilight or disarm WISE by domesticating Twilight, but he thought it was more likely she had no idea that Loid was Twilight; she’s had many opportunities to dispose of him but still hasn’t. As for the latter, he liked WISE but he’d never pledged his loyalty to them.
And besides… Twilight really needed to lighten up anyway.
Earlier that day, at Eden Academy…
Class was about to start in a few minutes. Mr. Henderson entered the room and Anya turned to Becky. “Becky?”
Becky turned her head. “Yes, Anya?”
“I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?”
Anya took a deep breath and whispered into her ear. “I can read minds.”
Becky gasped and immediately raised her hand. “Mr. Henderson!! Anya can read minds!!!”
Mr. Henderson was appalled! “Miss Forger, you have been able to read our minds this entire time? That is most inelegant! I am going to summon the Secret Police!” He pressed a button on his desk labeled “SUMMON THE SECRET POLICE.”
Suddenly, a cage manifested around her and Yuri came bursting through the door. “It is I, the Secret Police! You are under arrest for telling a secret! Or whatever it is I do!”
And then Loid and Yor, eyes both heavy with tears, also came bursting through the door somehow.
Loid glared at her in disappointment. “Anya, you’re a telepath?! I’m disowning you! And also I am breaking up with Yor!”
Yor turned to Loid. “Wait, what?!”
Becky and Yuri rushed to Loid and Yor’s sides, respectively.
“MY DARLING LOID!!!”
“SIS!!!”
And then Judge Franky, wearing a large robe and a puffy white wig, inexplicably emerged from the ground. He slammed on the nearest table with his brown hammer thingy. “Anya, you are hereby sentenced to life in prison... with NO PEANUTS!”
“NOOOOOO!”
Anya had envisioned many nightmare scenarios that could play out if she told Becky her secret. She hadn’t really considered it an option until now, but if she was going to avoid being abandoned for not doing her part in Operation Strix, she had to consider desperate measures. Yet the possibility of being arrested by the Secret Police for telling a secret was too much to even risk it (She still didn’t really understand what the Secret Police does.)
At the moment, Anya was still waiting with Becky for class to start. Having just suffered through that fantasy, she got herself back on track and once again asked for Becky’s help in accelerating her friendship with Damian.
Becky’s eyes were glowing with the exact same pattern she had for her previous failed ideas, not that Anya really noticed. “Ooh, I know exactly what you need to do! I saw this on the newest arc of Berlint in Love! Lisa tried to win Tommy over by asking him to be her friend, but he kept ignoring her. In case you forgot, Tommy’s family is…”
Anya’s only known superpower was telepathy, but it was uncanny how well her ears were able to completely filter out all detailed information regarding Berlint in Love. She really wanted to listen to her friend’s passionate monologues, but they were practically indecipherable. She still didn’t know what the deal with Tommy’s family was, and any time Becky asked a question in the middle of her arcane gibberish, Anya just nodded and said “Yeah. Yeah.” Anya also knew that as soon as Becky said, “Anyway,” she would be finished with her info dump, and it was time for her ears to magically tune right back in.
“Anyway, Lisa overheard Tommy talking to his dad on the phone about the huge secret revealed two episodes ago. In case you forgot, this was an insane episode because it was revealed that his dad is actually…”
A wave of incomprehensible gibberish flooded Anya’s ears and drained out to the other end.
“...Anyway, she found out about this and Tommy made her keep his devastating secret! And because of this, Tommy learned that he could trust Lisa and now they’re in love!”
Anya nodded as if she understood. “Okay, so what you’re saying is… I should… I should…”
“You should get Damian to tell you a secret! Then you need to promise to keep it. And you should do what Lisa did and try to understand more about his secret so you can be the one to comfort him! He’ll be impressed by how trustworthy and smart you are and become friends with you instantly! And then you’ll be lovers!”
Anya, ignoring that closing statement, immediately panicked and looked around. “Tell me a secret?! But won’t Sy-on boy be arrested by the Secret Police?!” She turned to Henderson’s desk, looking frantically for the “SUMMON THE SECRET POLICE” button.
Becky raised an eyebrow. “The what? I don’t think that’s how the police work, Anya.”
“Really?” Anya breathed a sigh of relief. “So Sy-on boy is safe. Okay, so I just need to get him to tell me a secret. This will be easy.” For a moment, she was once again sad that she couldn’t tell Becky about her superpower. She’s already keeping so many of Damian’s secrets, but he doesn’t even know it! Still, she resolved to make him crack and tell her one of them publicly, perhaps even a new one she hasn’t heard before! She’ll take that mask of privacy right off!
She turned around and glanced at Damian with a sinister smirk. “Heh.”
Emile turned to him. “Boss-man, she’s doing it again.”
Damian remained stoic. “I know. I’m used to it already.”