Chapter Text
In WISE Safehouse ██...
Franky and Yor seated themselves at a table similar to the one in the Forgers’ apartment. It was finally time for them to talk.
Given that Franky wasn’t even able to find any intel even remotely pointing to her assassin work, he was curious about just how deep the profession ran in her blood. “How long have you been… an assassin?”
“Since I was a child,” Yor said. “My brother Yuri and I were orphaned after… after our parents died in the war. We didn’t have much money, so I found a job as a hitman. I was very good at it and it paid well, so I took it.”
Franky was amazed but also a little infuriated, not at Yor but at the war he so vehemently opposed for forcing them into such a desperate situation; he suppressed his anger. “And you haven’t told anyone?” Not even Yuri?” he asked.
“Of course not! I…” She turned wistful. “I know he cares for me, but I have no idea what he would think. But there was one time…”
Many years ago…
A teenaged Yor had finally returned home after a very grueling and stressful coercion-based mission. That man was so unpleasant… I hate having to hear the scum talk more than they should…
As she closed the door, she was surprised to see a drowsy Yuri sitting on their new couch, seemingly having waited all night. “S-sis!” he said in a half-awake voice. “I wa… I wuz worried sick!!”
Yor put on a comforting smile. “It’s okay, Yuri! I just got lost in the mountains again!” It was the seventh time she used that excuse this month, but it’s not like Yuri believed it any less.
Yuri tried to show frustration and concern, but his exhaustion stifled every attempt. “Nawww… I keep… I keep tellin’ yuh… you gotta go… east… and don’t… don’t go near the water…”
Yor sat herself on the couch and propped him up. “Trust me. I’m fine, Yuri.” She then noticed he was holding a yellow-green children’s book called The Sounds of a Pet and picked it up.
“Did you want me to read this to you?” she asked.
“Mmmmmmmmm yuh…” Yuri slurred as he softly nodded.
“Okay,” she whispered. He tried saying something else, but Yor hushed him.
“Don’t talk...”
Yuri put his head on her shoulder as she opened the book. She was about to start reading, but something from her mission still nagged at her.
Coercion-based missions were always difficult for her because they involved allowing the subject to talk before killing them (usually), and the things they said were often meant to rile her up and cut her deep.
The man she killed tonight kept taunting her for being a teenaged murderer, for already having her purity tarnished by people who split the world so callously into heroes and villains. She wanted to silence him so badly, but she had to hold it in so he could give her a crucial bit of information to make sure his organization couldn’t continue causing harm.
It wasn’t until the very end that her fierce hatred culminated in a killing slice that was sloppier and more aggressive than usual, almost causing her to faint from the stress and anger. It was the first time she needed a checkup from one of Garden’s private doctors, the first time she talked to doctors in general about her job.
They weren’t exactly therapists, but they were surprisingly comforting for people working on the complete opposite side of her profession. They assured her that her work was invaluable, especially tonight, saying that if that terrorist was still allowed to live, many innocent people would’ve died at the hands of his organization.
She was cleared as soon as she was confirmed to be safe, leaving her a little delirious from the experience. In her delirium, she had a strange idea.
“Yuri… I need to tell you something,” she said.
“What… what is it, sis?” Yuri said softly.
Yor took a deep breath. “I’m an assassin, Yuri. I kill people. Evil, nasty people. But I do it so I can protect you. To protect everyone. I… I know it’s a dirty job. I-I know you’re probably scared of me now. But I promise that I just want to keep you safe, to make sure you keep smiling. Please…” Her eyes started to well up. “Please don’t ha—”
Yuri let out a loud snore. To Yor’s surprise, he had already been fast asleep before he could’ve heard anything. She breathed a sigh of relief. What had gotten into her? She knew she couldn’t tell anyone about her job, not even Yuri.
Smiling, she let him lie down and whispered in his ear. “Sleep tight, little Yuri.”
The next morning, he would tell Yor about last night’s dream where she saved him from an evil monster.
Back in the present…
“That was the closest I’d ever come to telling him, to telling anyone, about my job,” Yor concluded. Franky didn’t know what to say.
“Franky, are you… are you afraid of me?” I understand if you are.
After gathering himself for a few seconds, Franky finally spoke. “Well, I will admit that seeing you hold a knife to my throat later followed by five corpses you were responsible for did… unsettle me a little.”
Yor looked down, afraid he was about to announce his disdain for her. It’s not like she had a reference point for this, but it seemed like the most logical next step in her mind.
Franky’s face relaxed. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could trust you at first… but I can tell you meant all those things you said to me and Eric and Mira. I can tell you’re not pretending, that you really do believe in protecting us. And I can’t forget everything you’ve done for Anya and for Loid. You might be an assassin, but damn it you’re so much kinder than half the people I know.”
Yor beamed. She had feared what would happen if anybody found out about her job, and now it was not only happening, but it was turning out much better than she had ever expected. Her eyes welled up in tears. “Thank you, Franky. After all you’ve seen me do, you still believe in me. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Believe me,” Franky said. “I wish that half of the people I worked with were as nice as you are. As you can see…” He pointed at Eric’s bandage on his cheek. “They can be a little ruthless,” he joked.
Yor chuckled. “By the way… Loid told me something when we were first getting to know each other…” She reminisced out loud.
“To endure such a harsh job… for the sake of another, for the sake of something greater than oneself… I truly admire that,” Loid said with a proud smile. Later that night, Yor would guess he’s the only person who could accept her as she is now.
“I’m not ready to tell Loid, so please don’t tell him. But… I think you’ve known him for longer than I have. Do you really think he would understand?” she asked.
Franky wasn’t sure what to say. Given proper time and explanation, Loid Forger would definitely come to understand, but how about Twilight, who would logically see her as a potential risk to his mission? After some time for deliberation, he finally came up with an answer. “I think he would understand. Better than you’d think, really. But I understand if you don’t want to tell him, in fact I would wait, too.” I have no damn clue what WISE would make of this…
Yor nodded. “I get it. Besides, I would have to let my boss know before I can tell him, and I have a feeling he won’t be okay with it…”
At the reminder of Yor’s place of employment, Franky remembered something. “Oh yeah… There was a phrase that you used earlier, what was it? You said you ‘weed out’ evildoers, right?”
“Mhm,” Yor affirmed.
He paused as he considered the audacity of his next question, but he knew it made sense. The ‘weed out’ phrasing, the daggers, the black dress, the insane strength… it all had echoes of an infamous name.
“You’re Garden’s Thorn Princess, aren’t you?”
A chill ran down Yor’s spine. Although she was content with Franky knowing the basics of her secret, this strangely unsettled her, even if it was rather obvious.
“I…” she hesitated. “Yes, I am.”
Franky sighed. “I’m not mad, just… surprised. You guys are a real enigma, you know? I know a hell of a lot about the underworld, but even I have nothing on Garden. You’re still hardly anything more than a rumor. I don’t even know exactly what you are, a group of assassins or something greater?”
Yor remained silent; this was far beyond the scope of the mission, and if not for them already being friends, she might’ve threatened him to stop asking questions by now.
Franky expected that lack of an answer. “Alright, I get it. Overstepping my boundaries and all. But if I could just ask… can you promise me that you guys really investigate your enemies before you decide they have to die?” Some of my contacts died, supposedly thanks to you guys. I hope it’s nothing more than a rumor.
Yor nodded. “I always make sure to know as much as possible about my victims to avoid killing the wrong person. And to give them some dignity.”
“I see,” Franky said. Her statement wasn’t a total glimpse into the decision process, and it also suggested that she was basically just a foot soldier at most, but it was enough for now.
Now he knew he was throwing around his weight far too recklessly as a third party asset to WISE and now Garden, yet he also knew two things: that he needed to take this next risk for Loid’s sake, and that Yor of all people would be the likeliest to understand.
“I won’t press you any further, but you need to know something…” Franky began.
“You know the friends I mentioned earlier who are planning to arrest the Poulos soon? That’s an agency I work with. An agency of spies. And contrary to what everyone says, they’re actually trying to prevent war, to keep the peace. I know you said you weed out evildoers, but I’m afraid in a country as paranoid as this, that could very well include some perfectly innocent friends of mine. Anyway, I’m not saying we have to do it right now, but I think it would be beneficial for both of our groups if we could partner up, or at least acknowledge each other. To make sure neither of us accidentally hurt each other. Please.”
Franky thought of his fellow informants whose deaths were rumored to be at the hands of Garden, as well as a brief dark fantasy where he envisioned Twilight disguising himself as someone targeted by Garden. He also knew this would be the best gateway for making sure that if Loid and Yor ever find out about their secrets, it won’t be while they’re pointing weapons at each other.
Yor didn’t know what to say, shocked to see such a gravely concerned side of Franky. While she admired his audacity, she was nervous about Shopkeeper’s reaction, given that he’ll be very suspicious of a man who works with a spy agency claiming they need to work together. But in spite of the stigma surrounding spies, Yor believed Franky. She trusted him.
“I’ll try,” Yor finally said. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” Franky smiled, and then he came up with an idea. “By the way, if this mission is any evidence, you guys aren’t really on the side of the Poulos family, right? You know how I told you this organization is planning to arrest all the Poulos men in a few days? When your boss turns on the TV and sees all of them in handcuffs… tell ‘em a group called WISE was behind it. Just so you know we’re serious.”
There it was. The name. Sylvia would have him locked up if she ever found out about these past few minutes.
Yor understood immediately. “Got it.”
Franky was satisfied but also acutely aware of the specter of the mole they killed still hanging over them. “Yor, can I ask you something? I know this is insane to ask after everything I just said, but… why do you trust me? You just killed a man who spent a year pretending to be a guy’s friend. I’d think you’d be a little more paranoid.”
Yor sighed. “I don’t know what exactly that man did. All I know is you, Franky. You’re a good friend to Loid, and now you’re being such a good friend to me. You care for Bond like he’s also your pet. You care for Anya like she’s your niece. If I didn’t know any better, it was like you’re also part of the family. How can I not trust you?”
Franky was incredibly flattered. He didn’t want to admit it, but he really lost himself in the Forgers. “Don’t get attached,” he once warned Loid. What a goddamn hypocrite he was. Truth be told, he just wasn’t made for these times.
“Thank you, Yor. I… I can’t believe I got so invested in a fake family.” Instantly, his eyes widened. Wait.
“Hold on…” a shocked Yor began. “You knew about us being fake?”
He sighed as he accepted his gaffe. “Yeah, I knew. In fact, Loid probably told you about how he had connections to someone who could forge your marriage certificate, right? Guess who?”
Yor’s mouth opened in surprise. “That was you?”
He nodded. “You know me. I have a lot of connections,” Franky said. “By the way, I’m planning on coming over for dinner tomorrow. You know Arturo’s BBQ, that amazing barbeque you guys bought last night? That’s a Vian family establishment.”
Yor perked up. “Really?”
“Yep. And it was supposed to close this week, but, uhh, word on the street says it’s staying open, and the Forgers haven’t even tried some of the best items on the menu yet, so I’m buying a feast for the entire family! A celebration for tonight’s job, in honor of the Vians!” he said proudly. Garden’s paycheck has gotta be insane, so I’ll have a lot of leftover money for sure.
Yor beamed. “Oh, we would love that! Last night’s barbeque was so good!”
“I can tell Anya really enjoyed it as well,” Franky said.
At the mention of Anya, Yor remembered something. “Oh yeah, Franky, I wanted to ask you something… Melinda talked to me about Anya and said something weird.”
“Yor, if I may ask… does your daughter trust you?” Melinda asked.
Yor tilted her head. “Does she trust me?”
“Yes,” she said. “Does she still tell you secrets? Does she confide in you?”
“Do you think Anya’s hiding something? I never really thought about it until she asked me that,” Yor said.
Franky thought for a moment. “I don’t know, Yor. Kid’s an open book as far as I know.” She might have some had past trauma under her previous names, but Yor can’t know she’s adopted. “I do think she might be having some trouble with Damian at school.”
“Really?” Yor tilted her head. “But the other day, she said they were best friends and that he tells her everything.”
Franky quietly chuckled in disbelief. You’re surprisingly naive for a Garden assassin… “Well, they may be friends now, but even friends have some disagreements sometimes. She may be going through more trouble than we think,” he said.
“Oh, that’s awful!” Yor said in concern. “Should we help her?”
“I think we can trust her to tell us when she feels it’s right… but I really do hope she lets us know if she’s not okay,” Franky said, and then he looked down in shame. Wow, I really do sound like an uncle…
“I hope she knows she doesn’t have to hide anything…” Yor said wistfully. “I want her to trust me, even if I’m…” She looked at her daggers on the table. The thought of Anya knowing she was an assassin made her shudder.
Franky tried to assure her. “You know, this might be a long shot, but… considering her obsession with spy shows, she might actually think it’s cool that you’re a big strong assassin who wipes out the bad guys.”
Yor was repulsed by the mere thought. “I… I don’t know about that. I just want her to grow up with a normal childhood with a normal mother… I’ve been struggling with trying to understand what ‘normal’ means for so long. Loid and Melinda are helping me understand how it really works, but I’m still not sure I understand it.”
Franky chuckled. “Believe me, I know Loid. This may sound weird to you now, but I wouldn’t exactly call him the most normal guy. You two might be made for each other.”
Yor blushed as she thought about Loid. “Franky, please…” she said in embarrassment. If Yuri said something like this (though he never would), she would have smacked him by now.
Not realizing he had teased her, Franky continued. “And by the way, it doesn’t really matter how normal you are. Anya just deserves to have a great childhood, and I honestly think you and Loid are succeeding.” She’s certainly having an interesting childhood, at least.
Yor beamed once again. “Thank you so much. And don’t count yourself out, ‘Uncle Scruffy’.” She snickered.
He embraced the title proudly. “Why of course, Mrs. Forger,” he said regally.
Franky and Yor laughed together, radiating a warmth that practically transformed the Forger-esque room into a fully fledged second version of the Forger home.
Elsewhere in the safehouse…
“Have you had any surgeries in the past month?” a seated Eric playfully asked Mira, now about a quarter into their checkup.
Mira didn’t even entertain Eric’s ridiculous question with an unamused look. She just sat and stared at the wall while flatly saying, “No.”
Eric jotted down the words “No (Visible Amusement Score: 0/10 - sharp 4 point decrease from the last time I asked)” in his review sheet. He moved on to a question that wasn’t on the list. “Are you finding yourself unable to laugh at great jokes like you used to?”
He hoped for a quip like “You said great, so no” or something of the sort, but Mira simply responded with another flat “No.”
Eric grunted and jotted down the statement “No (Visible Amusement Score: 0/10 - potentially mad at me)” before daring to ask, “Are you willing to forgive your doctor or primary physician for any mistakes they’ve made in the past?”
Mira turned her head to Eric. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”
Eric sighed and put his clipboard down on the floor. “Mira, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you. I promise I would’ve saved him if I had more time. I just wanted to keep you safe.”
Mira finally turned her whole body to his. “Let’s just think about it for a moment. If you actually saved that man’s life, what’s the worst that could’ve happened? It’s not like he was threatening you. You could’ve found another person to confide in. He didn’t have to be a loose end.”
“It went by so fast,” Eric insisted. “I just wasn’t thinking rationally. I swear if he just had more time to live…”
“You worked in the army,” she interjected. “You know damn well that one second of hesitation is enough to end a life.”
Eric looked down and said nothing.
Mira sighed. “You know, I hated working as a lapdog for the Nordrian government. Especially during the war. We had nothing to gain by joining the conflict between Westalis and Ostania. They just needed a cudgel against the pacifistic opposing party. They sent so many kids out to die just for some political theater, and I sat back and let it happen.”
She put her hand on Eric’s knee. “I admire people like you, Eric. You army doctors and all the psychiatrists that are still helping veterans today. We messed up a bunch of children and told you guys to fix ‘em for us. You’re all better than me, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t say that!”
Ignoring him, she took her hand off and looked him in the eye. “Anyway, forgive me for being so frustrated that such an amazing doctor like you would let somebody die because of me. A lot of other young men died because of me, and now you’ve just told me about another one.”
“It’s not your fault, Mira. And I already told you and Yor: I’ll never let it happen again. I promise.”
“Truth be told…” Mira said. “I was thinking of asking Yor to keep an eye on you, to make sure you’re staying true to your word. And if you’re not, well…” She still looked solemn, but a hint of a playful smile briefly appeared.
“Please, anything but that,” Eric said, shuddering.
“You can calm down, anyway. It might be foolish of me, but I believe you. After all, you never would’ve faced that dilemma if not for us entering the war, which only happened because I sat by and let it happen like a coward. Even with this one man you allowed to die, you’re still a much bigger net positive on the world than I am.”
Eric frowned. “Please stop saying things like that. It was never your fault. The government was already too far gone to be swayed by anything. And besides, you can’t forget what Yor said. Your friends back home care about you. I care about you. You inspire them to keep trying to change the Nordrian government. You inspire me to keep saving lives. Even as a hidden fugitive, this world still turns thanks to you…” He looked up to the ceiling, starry-eyed. “You know, when the world finally stops being such a mess, my favorite story to tell everyone in the bar will be yours.”
Mira smiled. “Thanks, Eric. I really needed that. But there’s just one thing you should know: My struggle with an oppressive government isn’t a bar story, Eric.”
“I get what you’re saying, but… I just want to honor your memory. You deserve to have your story told,” Eric said.
“Yeah, maybe as a cautionary history lesson, not so you can impress a bunch of people who’ll forget half the details of your story the next morning. And besides, I think some stories are best kept as secrets between the people who experienced it. It’s more pure that way. All the detail and intimacy goes away when everyone else knows.”
Eric smiled. “Well, I will admit. I don’t imagine impressing a bunch of strangers will have anything on the time I spend just talking with you.”
Mira blushed. “Eric, please…”
Suddenly, they heard Franky and Yor’s distant laughter.
“Huh. Those two must be having fun out there,” Eric said. Within the same hour we saw five corpses, too…
“They seem like good friends,” Mira said with a light chuckle. “I don’t think I’ll ever meet a hitman as kind as that woman.”
Eric closed his eyes and raised his right finger. “Well, let me tell you about this one hitman I had as a patient...”
Mira grinned. “Ah, there’s the Eric I know.”
“Don’t tell me you’re tired of it now,” Eric said.
“Of course not,” Mira said as she looked up to reminisce. “It’s like when my parents would always be eager to tell me bedtime stories. I knew them all, but I never got tired of it.”
Eric’s eyes widened with joy. “Well, I’m honored to know I’m part of the family now.” He humbly put his hand on his chest.
Mira groaned. “Ugh, why do I keep boosting your ego? You can be so annoying sometimes.”
“I’m annoying, but you still care for me. I guess I really am family now.”
Mira smirked. “Well, I once played a game with my little brother where we’d see who’d go the longest without speaking. Can you try that?”
“I’ll lose every time and I’ll be proud of it.”
Mira and Eric laughed together, lighting up the cold room with a new warmth.
Earlier that day, at Eden Academy…
Anya sat on a bench by the library, looking down wistfully. How could her plan have collapsed this badly? It’s true that Anya had burned through many failed attempts to accelerate her potential friendship with Damian in the past month, but yet none of them stung quite as hard as this one, for he finally decided (well, kinda) to trust her with a secret and she still managed to mess it up.
A worried Becky emerged from the side. “Anya!”
“Oh. Hey Becky,” she said dismally.
Becky quickly seated herself on the bench. “I’m really really sorry about all this, Anya. I tried to get Damian to apologize but he kept being such a jerk!”
“It’s okay, Becky. It’s my fault,” Anya said, not even having considered Becky’s role until now. In her mind, it was her own responsibility for being so reckless as to leave the pin out or even ask Becky about Berlint in Love in the first place.
“No it is not!!” Becky insisted, finally realizing and admitting something. “I know that my ideas have been a little… messy, Anya, and I’m sorry for that. But I just can’t stand to see you struggling because you can’t be with your true love!”
Anya just blinked, still not sure why she keeps implying that she wants to date Damian. Eww…
“What do you see in Damian anyway? Why do you want him now?” Becky asked.
Anya closed her eyes, ruminating in search of a vague truth. “Because… it’s… for world peace!”
“How noble!” Becky said, albeit confused. I have no idea what she means by that but I’ll try to follow along for her sake.
Anya elected to clarify further. “I mean… after I punched Sy-on boy, my dad really wanted me to make it up to him. He keeps telling me friendship is important and I should try to make uh-mends with Sy-on boy and be his friend. I don’t want to upset him.”
As she expected, Becky gasped.
“YOU’RE DOING IT FOR MY DARLING LOID! THAT REALLY IS NOBLE!!!”
Though they were only sitting beside the library, the librarian still came out to hush her before angrily retreating back to her desk. Thanks to this, Becky was able to collect herself. “Okay, but I know my Loid. He is the kindest, most understanding man in the world! Why do you need to be so desperate? Surely he’ll understand.”
Anya was fresh out of explanations. “Because… world… peace…”
Still confused, Becky elected to steer the topic away. “You know what, let’s forget about Damian for now. He’ll come around eventually! It’s not like his secret was really anything to be embarrassed about in the first place.”
Anya thought deeply about the many secrets within her family and concocted another fantasy.
“Okay, let’s all say our secrets at the same time,” Anya said. “Got it?”
Loid, Yor, Franky, and Yuri all nodded.
Anya counted down. “3… 2… 1…”
“I’m a telly-path”
“I’m a super cool spy.”
“I’m an assassin.”
“I’m an inform-unt”
“I’m a Secret Police-person”
Then they all looked at each other and laughed.
“Wow,” Loid said. “We are all weird. That is so cool. We can be weird together! Hooray!”
“Hooray!” They all said, and then they all hugged and were best friends forever.
But Anya knew exactly why that couldn’t be, also acutely aware that none of the others were telepathic, leaving her as the superpowered freak.
“Becky… why can’t we just not have secrets? It would be so much nicer...”
Becky was at a bit of a loss; as a six year old, she had very limited life experience... but on the bright(?) side, what she did have was her knowledge of television!
“If everyone told each other their secrets, then the economy would come crashing down!” (This was just her theory of what would happen if somebody spilled all of the secrets from the newest arc of Berlint in Love.)
“I guess some secrets are okay to tell,” Becky continued. “Like if Brenda told Brad that she secretly liked him, that would be great for both of them! But if Brad told Brenda that he was responsible for her brother’s death, that would be awful! The problem with secrets is that when everyone keeps it to themself, they have nobody to tell them whether or not they should’ve kept it all along! There’s no mediator for secrets.”
“Mee-day-ter?” Anya asked.
“Yeah, mediator!” Becky confirmed. “It’s a word I heard in another one of my dramas! It’s like… when two people are having an argument, and then there’s this third person who comes in to find a middle ground and get the two to understand each other. It’s like that, but with two people who have secrets!”
“Huh… so that’s a mee-day-ter,” Anya said, trying to solidify the word in her mind.
“Mediator,” Becky corrected her once more. “Anyway, it’s a very big part of this one drama I watch. It’s about this really messed up family where everyone hates each other and hides all these secrets! But there’s this one guy who they don’t hate. He’s the youngest in the family so they’re trying their best to make sure they don’t ruin him and drag him into the drama. Do you see where I’m going? Just making sure you can still hear me.”
Anya nodded. “Yes, I can hear you! There’s a big messy family and one young guy nobody hates!”
“Right!” Becky said like a proud teacher. “Anyway, because nobody hates him and he’s trustworthy with secrets, everyone wants to tell him everything. And he ends up being like the ultimate secret keeper! And he’s resolved some of the family’s biggest conflicts by just being the mediator.”
“Huh,” Anya said, actually more or less processing what she meant for once. “So what you mean is… we all need a mee-day-ter.”
Becky gave up on trying to correct her. “Yeah, basically! But it’s not like everyone has a guy like that.”
Anya once again thought about telling Becky of her telepathy... But I need a mee-day-ter to tell me if I should do that… but I’ll need to tell that mee-day-ter about my secret first so they can do that… but then I’ll need a second mee-day-ter to tell me if I can tell the first mee-day-ter about my secret first… but then I’ll need a third…
Anya turned as dizzy as she did in a packed crowd, prompting Becky to lean over and hold her. “Anya, are you okay?”
“Sorry, I just got a little confused,” Anya assured her. “So where can I find these mee-day-ters? And who makes sure they’re trust-wordy?”
Becky chuckled. “I don’t know, Anya. Nobody does. But I mean… the guy in the show was just a part of the family. You can trust your family to keep your secrets, at least, right?”
“Sure…” Anya said, though she was lying. She wanted to accept that so badly, but she was still very sure that both Loid and Yor would disown her if she ever told them her secret. Bond knows, but he’s a dog so he can’t really provide much in the way of verbal advice…
She knew there was an answer in sight, but she didn’t have much time to keep thinking about it as the bell rang. She was still glad Becky could at least push her in the right direction.
“Thank you so much for helping me, Becky,” Anya said, restoring her own smile. “You’re so wise!”
Becky’s eyes glowed with warmth. “Awww, don’t even mention it, Anya!”
Becky and Anya hugged and laughed together, not noticing that Master Henderson, who heard echoes of their conversation beforehand, had walked into the scene right at that moment.
A true friendship… Henderson thought. How elegant.
Later that day, in the safe house…
“No,” Nightfall said flatly.
“What?!” Franky raised his arms in exasperation. He had just explained a slightly fabricated account of what happened tonight, minus mentioning the names of Yor or Mira, who had both left about an hour ago.
“I’m an agent, not a babysitter. And if you followed the proper procedures and made sure nobody followed you, you shouldn’t be worried about an attack here in the first place,” Nightfall said as she continued thinking about something “important.” I have now been working on the Poulos family case for eleven hours, seven minutes, and fifty two seconds without seeing Twilight.
Eric butted in. “If I may regale you with a few wonderful stories of mine to change your mi—”
“No,” Nightfall cut him off. “I’ve already determined your status from my investigations. You are an irrelevant, nondescript third party doctor who is simply one of many potential targets of the Poulos, as already mentioned. In relation to the Vians, you are not even part of the family. You are in danger, but you have nothing significant to contribute to our mission’s success.”
Eric was instantly crestfallen. “N-nondescript…” he said weakly. Both Franky and Eric were now depressively staring at the ground.
For once, Nightfall couldn’t help but feel something as she looked at them. Was this… pity, perhaps? She scoffed and looked at Franky.
“Just make sure he survives the night,” she said. “Starting tomorrow, we can bring him into protective custody.” I do not have time for this tonight.
Franky looked up and smiled. “Thank you so much, grumpy lady!”
Despite the insult, Nightfall’s face remained stoic as ever. “Bye,” she simply said before turning around to leave. Eleven hours, nine minutes, and fifteen seconds without seeing Twilight...
As she left, Franky quietly laughed. How did a Garden assassin and a foreign fugitive turn out to be nicer ladies than any of the women I know from WISE?