Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sixteen.

It was the sixteenth mission of the year that got him. To the disappointment of the betting crowd at WISE, Twilight could not, in fact, complete a marathon of twenty back-to-back missions without getting injured.

The injury wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Had he been a millisecond slower to react, he’d have had three broken ribs instead of one small fracture, and would be off the field for months instead of a few weeks. He counted himself lucky. Not only because of the relatively light pain, but because he could finally take a bit of a break.

Swapping identities one after the other took a toll even on the best of spies. Twilight wasn’t only in need of physical rest, but a mental vacation. Shed the dross he’d collected over the past half year of masterful covers—bodyguard for an arms smuggling kingpin, collector of ancient artifacts, professional horse bettor. Center himself again on the overarching mission that he and all his fellow agents had dedicated their lives to. 

As usual, it took several days for his body to wind down from a state of constant vigilance, where he twitched awake at the slightest sound or even no sound at all. Last night he had a rare full eight hours of sleep and now enjoyed the luxury of a slow morning, including a leisurely breakfast with a novel in hand instead of a newspaper. He followed that up with a weight training routine that didn’t put any pressure on his ribs. And that brought him up to noon, where he was scheduled to meet with Handler at the WISE office. His expectations were low. This window of relaxation was probably over. Even when Handler gave him desk duty, the hours were relentless.

“Good morning, or rather, good evening, Agent Twilight,” came the standard greeting. She raised one penciled brow at his choice in attire. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his workout clothes. “Enjoying spa day?”

“Actually, it’s leg day. And good to see you too, ma’am.”

She shifted backward in her chair, settling into a deceptively relaxed posture. She let a few seconds of silence pass as if she were taking the measure of her best agent in repose. Twilight was used to these subtle games, if one could call it that. In his training years, it seemed like everything Handler did was meant as a test or a challenge, which he instinctively strove to meet. She probably still intended everything as a test, but he had learned not to take it all so seriously anymore. He had earned that right.

“As much as I’d like to continue footing your rehab bill, I’m afraid we aren’t sufficiently staffed to keep you off the field.” It was the closest to an apology she had ever offered.

“I expected as such. What’s the mission?” he cut to the chase.

“I daresay it’ll be an easy one for you. You might even consider it a continuation of your break.”

“I appreciate that–”

“Of course, to keep you from getting too bored, I’m adding a secondary task: field training a rookie.”

Of course. No way he could get an actual break; he’d need to babysit. Handler knew he preferred operating alone and avoided trainer duties whenever possible. It was why he had only trained one agent so far, to dubious success. No matter how much she emphasized that building strong partnerships within the agency was essential to his long term career, it went against his nature to rely on others, especially in life and death situations. And given the fact he outperformed his fellow agents in every area, there was no one he found competent enough to be his partner, except if perhaps Handler herself were to return to the field.

Since they were meeting in private, Twilight didn’t bother to hide his annoyance, which manifested in a slight stiffening of his bottom lip amidst his otherwise neutral expression. Naturally, it did not go unnoticed.

“Would you rather hear about the mission first, or the rookie?” she said, amused.

“Surprise me,” he deadpanned.

Handler cocked her head slightly, her look of amusement growing into a rare smirk. “We’re shaking things up a bit for you. He’s part of the Homeland program, in the first batch. Excellent information gathering skills, fluent in most Ostanian dialects, graduated from university with an engineering degree before getting drafted during the war. Won’t be much help in a straight-up fight, but for this mission that shouldn’t be an issue.”

The Homeland program was an experiment that had started bearing fruit just recently. Instead of relying only on Westalian agents, WISE had begun recruiting native Ostanians in an extremely selective, secretive process. It was a high-risk, high-reward gamble that had required the Prime Minister’s approval to become a reality. In exchange for ten years of loyal service, WISE’s Ostanian agents would be granted Westalian citizenship and a generous pension. Twilight hadn’t worked with any Homeland agents yet, but he had to admit he was curious.

It put him on guard that Handler was selling this rookie quite strongly. She rarely gave endorsements for anyone, so there had to be a punchline. Before he could probe further, she changed the topic.

“Now as to the mission. We suspect former Prime Minister Donovan Desmond to have a major hand in the flow of illegal drugs over the border to Westalis. As you know, negotiations from our side have failed to make any headway in stemming the supply of narcotics and synthetic hallucinogens. It’s not primarily a money play for him.”

“It’s national security,” Twilight surmised. He had done a couple of missions related to drug trafficking, and had heard the rumors. 

“Yes. Taking a page from Britania’s history, he aims to weaken Ostania’s foes by seeding malaise among their civilian population. Particularly the youth. In a few years we will have a major national health crisis on our hands if Desmond and his partners continue unchecked. The problem is, we don’t have any definitive proof that he’s involved. He runs a notoriously tight ship.”

“So you want me to find the evidence that can bring him down. But it’s nearly impossible to get close to him. We’ve tried. So what’s the angle this time?”

Her smile sharpened. That did not bode well. “I was getting to that. Please remain seated and don’t interrupt until I’ve laid out all the parameters.”

He frowned, but did as he was told.

“Donovan’s two sons both attend Eden Academy, the most elite preparatory school in the country. His older son, Demetrius, holds the coveted status of Imperial Scholar, granted only to top-performing students. The only public events Donovan is known to attend are Imperial Scholar mixers.”

So far, so good. Twilight would likely need to impersonate a professor or administrator who worked closely with the Imperial Scholar program. 

“You and your partner are to go undercover as seniors at Eden Academy–”

Seniors? Senior faculty members?

“–and become Imperial Scholars, in order to infiltrate these mixers and make contact with the target.”

What?

…

What?

“I’m sorry, ma’am–”

“I told you not to interrupt, agent,” his superior said sternly.

He shut his mouth more forcefully than necessary and ground his teeth behind a veneer of professionalism.

“I know what you’re thinking. Why not impersonate a faculty member or some other adult on campus? Two limitations. Eden has a strict policy discouraging staff from becoming too friendly with parents. With so many business and government leaders among the parent population, Eden cannot afford any rumors of favor-seeking or bribes in either direction—whether from overzealous parents trying to pay for good grades, or faculty looking for a leg up in elite society. Imperial Scholar mixers are highly regulated and monitored. It would appear suspicious for a new faculty member to cozy up to Donovan Desmond, if you could even get past his security detail.”

Twilight took in the explanation as level-headedly as he could. It made sense. 

“The other reason is that we need to keep our options open. Going directly for Donovan is quite a limiting approach, given these mixers only occur once a semester. It will also take you a while to gain access to the mixers, as you’ll need to earn eight ‘Stella Stars’ through academic excellence, outstanding talent in extracurriculars, or noteworthy acts of service to society. Donovan has two sons at the school, as I mentioned. Becoming a student will allow you much greater leeway in infiltrating his inner circle. Demetrius is a senior, while Damian is much younger. You and your partner can find ways to befriend both boys, whether through academics, extracurriculars, mentorship, sports, whatever route you can find. If you can secure an invitation to the Desmond estate, you’ll be that much closer to finding the evidence.”

Twilight could barely hold back his questions. This sounded like a long mission. At least half a year, if it were truly that difficult to gain Imperial Scholar status. And earning the trust of a Desmond, even a child, would be no easy task. Their entire family was known for extreme reclusiveness.

More importantly, how was he to construct a convincing cover? Even if he wore a mask every day to make himself look younger, it would be hard to hide his muscled physique and other obvious tells that he was in his late twenties. And if he had to play sports and go on field trips and do all sorts of other physical activities with these children on a daily basis, it would be extremely difficult to ensure his disguise would hold up.

And lastly, a question he was loath to ask even himself, let alone his superior:

Was he actually capable of impersonating a teenager?

Twilight had earned a vaunted reputation as the Man of a Thousand Faces. He had tricked the closest family members and friends of his targets with his flawless disguises and expert acting. He had brute forced his way through the most unsavory of masks—mafia henchmen and black market dealers and secret police—suppressing his self-disgust at the binge drinking and blackmail and violence he’d had to undertake to stay in character. But somehow, the prospect of becoming a teenager made him sick to the stomach in a way none of his other missions had.

He had barely even had a childhood, scuttling through the streets like a disease-ridden rat for the greater part of the war, before he had enlisted in the army and begun taking out his rage on nameless enemies with guns and grenades at age sixteen. His upbringing had been the complete opposite of the soft, pampered lives of the children at Eden Academy.

Could he actually do this?

Handler paused, signaling he had permission to speak.

“Why me?” were the first words out of his mouth.

She laughed. She had laughed at him many times throughout his career and he’d learned to brush it off, but somehow this time it stung.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Twilight.”

She was always too damned perceptive. This was the problem with reporting to the same officer who had trained him from the start. She knew him all too well and how to push his buttons.

“I’m not scared, I’m just offended.”

She laughed again, with more derision. “You look young. And with your intellect and encyclopedic knowledge, you have the best shot of rising to Imperial Scholar status faster than any student ever has at Eden Academy. Your acting skills are unparalleled. Need I go on?”

Handler never flattered him. She did not intend those remarks as flattery. She was merely giving an assessment of his strengths and why she had chosen him for this mission. But he still had the sinking feeling that this was partly a prank. He understood the importance of the mission’s objective, but the entire approach seemed uniquely engineered to embarrass the hell out of him. 

“What’s the point of having a partner, then, if I can do all that myself?” he tried to deflect. 

She opened her mouth to answer, but just then someone knocked on her office door. 

“Ma’am? Here to report for the mission briefing,” came the muffled voice.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Twilight knew that voice. He hadn’t heard it in years, but he would never forget the day he had met that man. Boy. However old he had been. It had been hard to tell, given his diminutive height and self-proclaimed virginity.

With dread, he turned to face the newcomer as Handler called for him to enter.

A terribly awkward silence fell as WISE’s most legendary spy locked eyes with the scruffy-haired Ostanian deserter, and the moment of recognition flashed across the latter’s bespectacled face.

“You!”

Chapter Text

Twilight narrowed his eyes. His arms were folded across his chest and his shoe tapped quickly against the floor.

“So do you have any combat experience?” he asked.

The man before him shifted his weight slightly under his gaze.

“Well, I mean, you know I was in the military,” the man replied.

“I seem to recall you deserted.”

“Never said I was any good at it.”

They were at a desk somewhere in WISE’s headquarters. Twilight leaned against the table while sizing up the smaller man in the chair. 

“What’s your codename?” Twilight asked.

“My name?”

“No, code name, surely you know what that is.”

The man shrugged and simply said, “Haven’t gotten one yet.”

Twilight clenched his jaw in frustration.

“What am I supposed to call you, deserter?”

The man shifted through the papers Handler had given them after their briefing.

“Well, this says my name is gonna be Frank during this mission,” he said as he read their fake profiles, “so you can call me that. Or Franky if you’d like.”

“I would not.”

“Okay, well, what’s your codename?”

Twilight huffed to himself. Had Handler really not told this rookie anything beforehand?

“Twilight.”

Franky’s eyes widened.

“Wait, you’re Twilight?” he asked. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Twilight frowned.

“That’s usually the opposite effect spies try to have,” he muttered.

“Well, I’ve heard a lot in a good way!” Franky gushed. “I was just reading the report on the Brantz case—how did you manage to shake off the SSS agents and the terrorists and the bomb dogs?”

Twilight’s frown curled into a scowl. “Those files are classified, how in the world did you get your hands on them?”

“And then last year when you disarmed all of those bombs on the Princess Lorelei, that was incredible!”

Twilight made a mental note to remind the archivists to tighten their security.

“Oh man, if I’m working a case with Twilight then I’ll get my Westalian citizenship in no time,” Franky said to himself as he leaned back in his chair. “This is gonna be easy.”

“No, it’s not going to be easy, I’ll be training you,” Twilight growled. He gathered up the papers on the desk, tucked them under his arm, and started striding out of the office. “Follow me.”

Franky jumped out of the chair and followed him, eyes shining.

“What’re we doing first, Twilight? Staking out the school?”

“Oh no, not yet.” Twilight looked back to his eager student, a tight smile spread across his face. “We need to go over the basics.”

—

If Twilight had been as physically incompetent as Franky, he would’ve deserted from the Ostanian military, too. He held up a paper target in front of Franky.

“Care to explain how this happened?” he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. The scruffy man shrugged.

“I’m nearsighted?” Franky offered. Twilight slapped the target down on the shooting range table in annoyance.

“Nearsighted or not, how did you manage to miss every single time?”

“Well, at least we can reuse the target again. That’s a plus.”

Twilight fought the urge to strangle him right then and there.

He knew that this new recruit was green, but this was an entirely different breed of inept. Over the past couple days, Twilight had run him through basic tests and found that Franky had the physical capabilities of someone three times his age. He collapsed after running at a light jog for a few minutes, tapped out at five push ups, and hung uselessly at the pull up bar. At the parkour course, Franky fell off the balance beam so many times that it would’ve made Twilight laugh if his mission’s success didn’t rely on this pathetic excuse of a spy. And now, at the shooting range, Twilight discovered that Franky possessed the miraculous ability to shoot everything but the target right in front of him. This was impossible. Twilight felt a growing pain swirl in his stomach, likely a mixture of anxiety and the fractured rib.

“Alright, let’s run through it again,” Twilight muttered with a frustrated sigh and went to clip the unblemished paper to the target board.

“Hold on, Twilight,” Franky stopped him, “I get that all this stuff is necessary for being a spy but we’re going undercover as high school students. Shouldn’t we focus on that instead?”

Twilight paused.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Franky put down his pistol and leaned against the table.

“We’re not gonna be shooting people or jumping off buildings,” he explained. “We gotta prep for the high school aspect of this mission because that’s mostly what we’ll be doing.”

Twilight folded his arms and gave him a quizzical look.

“I’m not concerned about the educational aspect of this mission. It’s just high school.”

“ Just high school? Did you even go to high school, man?”

No, he’d been too busy taking out his anger on every poor Ostanian soldier he could get his hands on. Pursuing a traditional education had been the last thing on his mind.

“I’ve gone undercover in plenty of situations,” he reasoned. “Pretending to be a rich kid won't be very difficult. I’ve interacted with members of high society often enough to know how to blend in. If anything, I’m worried that you won’t be able to adapt.”

It was Franky’s turn to narrow his eyes in judgment. Twilight hated seeing the look coming from a rookie agent.

“Okay, well, you might be able to pretend to be a rich person, but I just know already you’re gonna make an awful teenager,” Franky said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you’re too straight-laced, Twilight. You need to relax.”

“I can relax,” Twilight snapped, hating how defensive his voice was.

“Dude, I saw you wipe your fingerprints off the office doorknob today.”

“You can’t be too cautious.”

“If the SSS comes busting down the doors of WISE HQ, they’re not gonna stop to check for fingerprints.”

“It’s just a good habit to get into,” Twilight quickly shot back. To this Franky rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, because teenage boys are known for their cleanliness.”

Twilight hated it but he knew Franky was probably right. He owed his success as a spy to the fact that he found a little bit of himself in every cover he put on. But he had never really been a teenager—he’d hardly had time to be a child—and so he had no personal reference. The doubts that had arisen during his meeting with Handler began to bubble in the back of his mind.

To quell his uncertainty, he did what any good spy would do and began researching. Normally he would go straight to the source and observe how real teenagers acted. However he soon realized how strange it felt to intently study groups of children in public so he opted for the next best option and began observing Franky instead. What he discovered hardly made him feel any better about his prospects.

The next afternoon they were at a store shifting through clothing racks.

“Don’t Eden students wear uniforms?” Franky asked as he tossed aside a pair of striped pants. “Why’re we getting even more clothes?”

“If the mission goes well then we’ll be mingling with youths outside of school,” Twilight answered. “If we’re to blend in then we must dress the part.”

“Youths? Do you hear yourself, man?”

“It’s what they are.”

Franky held up a suit coat that was a horrible shade of mustard yellow with a grimace.

“Then why are we shopping at a state-run store? The cool kids wouldn’t be caught dead wearing stuff like this.”

“Because the WISE budget covers state-run prices.”

Franky tsked. “We’re never gonna be convincing teenagers like this,” he mumbled. Twilight set down a polo shirt onto the clothing rack with an irritated snap.

“Alright, then,” he said with a snort, “If you’re so good at this, why don’t you tell me how teenagers act?”

Franky gave him a teasing grin.

“Is The Twilight asking the lowly rookie for acting tips?” he asked. Twilight bit back his annoyance.

“A good agent is always looking for learning opportunities,” he managed with a smile. “Please, go ahead and enlighten me. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Franky leaned against a display case of pants as he thought. Based on the smirk on his face, Twilight was already beginning to regret asking.

“Well, for starters, you don’t talk like a teenage boy,” Franky said.

“And how shall I remedy that?”

Franky rolled his eyes.

“You gotta talk about girls, man.”

“Do I need to remind you that these are teenagers and we’re grown men?”

“Age doesn’t matter.”

Twilight raised his eyebrows and Franky paused.

“Okay, lemme reword that,” he quickly backtracked. “What I mean to say is that in order to act like a teenage boy, you gotta talk about girls your age.”

“Mhm.”

“And you gotta joke around a little bit. You know, loosen up. Make a dick joke or two.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Yes you are,” Franky insisted. 

“I am not.”

“Yes you have to.”

Their back and forth continued until they returned to the WISE headquarters, new clothes in tow. Twilight led Franky to a small room in the medical wing of the building and sat him down on a patient bed.

“—And then there’s actually talking to the girls, that’s the hard part,” Franky continued. He was still delivering his lecture.

“I can assure you I know how to talk to women,” Twilight said as he took a seat by Franky.

“Yeah but did you ever talk to teenage girls when you were younger?”

Once again, the answer was no. Women on the battlefield had been few and far between.

“I won’t be seducing anyone during this mission,” he sighed.

“But all the cool guys know how to pick up chicks. If we’re gonna fit in then we gotta talk to babes, man,” Franky said. “Show me whatcha got.”

Twilight cocked his head.

“Like show you how I talk to women?”

“Yeah. Lemme see your moves.”

“On you?”

“Yep.” Franky grinned. “Unless you’re scared.”

Twilight was no such thing. He sighed, smoothed his pants, got up, and stood next to where Franky was perched on the patient bed.

“Well, first you have to close the distance, but not too close,” he said. He hovered just into Franky’s personal space. “Smile, but only a bit. Softly. Just enough to seem kind but not eager.”

“Yeah okay,” Franky mumbled as he shifted a bit in his seat. Twilight ignored him.

“Ask them about themselves.” Twilight changed his tone to be warmer and a bit deeper. “I heard you graduated in engineering before you got drafted. What made you choose that area of expertise?”

“Well, um, I’ve always been good with technology and stuff,” Franky found himself answering. “I like to take things apart and put them back together.”

“That's impressive,” Twilight replied with a light laugh. “Compliment them, be as genuine as possible. Do you have any prior experience working as an engineer? I can’t imagine someone as talented as you not putting your skills to good use.”

“No, uh, just, stuff I did for fun,” Franky sputtered.

Twilight’s fingers glanced over Franky’s arm, just a brush.

“It’s important to initiate physical contact gradually and subtly. Don’t linger, leave them wanting more.”

“Uh…”

“If you’re so good at engineering, then why would you possibly need to go to the West?” Twilight leaned in ever so slightly as he lowered his voice. “Someone as talented as you could be very, very successful in this country.”

“W—Westalis has less strict laws,” Franky stammered as he felt his face grow warm. “I—I don’t want t—to live in a country where the government is always breathing down my neck.”

Twilight drifted even closer until their shoulders touched. He looked down at Franky through low eyelids.

“If the target seems receptive, then continue.”

“Wha—”

He leaned in, close enough to feel Franky’s facial hair tickle his cheek.

“Wouldn’t you rather stay here? With me?” he whispered into Franky’s ear.

“And what’s going on in here?” Handler’s voice snapped Franky back to reality and he suddenly became aware of how fast his heart was beating in his chest. 

Handler leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, an amused look on her face. Franky exploded in a blushing frenzy of sputters but Twilight simply leaned back and shrugged.

“Just teaching him the trade secrets, ma’am,” he said. Handler hummed knowingly.

“Ah, yes, good,” she said. “Listen well, rookie. He’s the best in the business, I taught him myself.”

“Y—Yes, ma’am,” was all Franky could manage. She laughed.

“Well, I was about to visit an injured agent. What brings you two down here?” she asked.

“Just fixing up our rookie’s appearance for the mission, ma’am,” Twilight answered. To this, Handler smirked.

“Oh, in that case, have fun, boys,” she replied before slipping back into the hallway. Franky whipped his head back to Twilight.

“What do you mean fixing up appearances?” he demanded.

“Did I not tell you? You’re getting waxed.”

“Waxed?! Why?!”

Twilight poked the little bit of chest that was exposed from Franky’s collared shirt where some hair peeked out.

“You’re short. That’s basically the only thing you have in common with teenage boys in regards to physical appearance,” he said. “You’ve got way too much hair for a seventeen year old.”

Franky pouted but relented.

“Well, I guess I can survive having my chest waxed if it’s for the mission,” he grumbled.

“Oh, we’re not only waxing your chest, rookie.”

Franky instinctively crossed his legs with a small yelp.

“Are you going to get waxed, too?” he asked weakly. For the first time, Franky saw Twilight genuinely smile.

“I’m the best in the business,” he said. “I already am.”

Chapter Text

Stratus could hear the rookie’s strangled yelps of pain through the infirmary wall as he rotated his injured ankle gingerly this way and that, then stood to his feet and took a few hobbling steps.

“See, good as new, ma’am,” he proclaimed with a cheeky smile. “It was just a little fall.”

Handler gave him her trademark deadpan stare. “Hardly. You’re getting too old for this, agent. You could have broken your hip or worse.”

Stratus waved her off good-naturedly. “Nonsense. I’ve still got it. Just need a few weeks of rest and then I’ll be back in fighting shape.”

“Shape to fight what? That rookie in the next room?” Handler scoffed. “Speaking of which, your next assignment unofficially begins today. I’ll do the official briefing on Sunday with all three of you, and then it’s off to the races. Are you prepared?”

“To raise those boys into men and keep them on the straight and narrow? Yes, ma’am, I’m quite looking forward to it!” he said with a grin. “Norman Forger, reporting for duty.”

“One of those ‘boys’ happens to be our top agent, Norman. He’s the definition of straight and narrow.”

“True. He’d do better to loosen up a bit for this mission, and I’ll be there to help. Might bring me back to the days he was just a green trainee, all pent-up adolescent rage and no self-control.”

Handler smiled then. “Ah, yes. Twilight’s rebellious phase.”

Another hoarse shriek filtered through the wall, accompanied by an exasperated “Hold still, you idiot!” Stratus winced in sympathy and shook his head.

“Well, I’m glad I’m too old for that part of the job.” He shuddered. “Back in my day, a simple kiss on the cheek or some heavy petting in the backseat was enough to get the intel we needed. Now even the dames expect a roll in the hay on the third date. And perfectly trimmed shrubs to go with it.”

“Twilight usually gets it done on the first or second, usually,” Handler commented. “You taught him a few tricks, didn’t you?”

Stratus puffed out his chest proudly. “That I did. He wouldn’t be the charmer he is today without my lessons on how to be a proper gentleman.”

“And now you get to do it again. The etiquette part. Obviously there is to be no honey trapping on this mission. Under any circumstances.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll set the boundaries and make sure the boys know the consequences and all.”

Handler looked like she was about to correct him again, but stopped and sighed. “Just…make sure they don’t maim each other before they even step foot on campus. You’ll certainly have your hands full.”

“Ow! You bastard!” the rookie howled next door.

“Turn the fuck over! You can’t just walk out of here with half your back still hairy!”

“Certainly. I’m not afraid to lay down the law even on the great Twilight,” Stratus said, but without much conviction.

—

‘Norman Forger’ was the chillest parental figure Franky had ever met. After the mock SSS torture session where Twilight had wielded those hot wax strips like a cattle prod, Franky had limped his way out into the hall and run into WISE’s oldest and longest-tenured agent, codenamed Stratus. He was to play the role of their father on this mission, and already looked the part, gray-haired and sporting a thick mustache that somehow lent him an air of authority and approachability at the same time. Like a friendly neighborhood grandpa for spies.

“Pleasure to meet you, son,” Stratus said as he shook Franky’s hand—one of the few parts of his body that didn’t feel like it was on fire.

“Nice to meet you too, sir. Or Dad?” Franky rasped, his throat still hoarse.

“Sir. Hmm. I like that!” The older man broke into a grin and turned toward Handler. “I finally get a senior rank after all these years!”

Their commanding officer rolled her eyes. “You are having way too much fun for an injured near-retiree, agent. Please try to treat this seriously. The wellbeing of our nation’s youth rests on this mission’s success.”

“Stratus,” Twilight greeted as he emerged from the torture chamber, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He peeled off his blue medical gloves and threw them in the wastebasket behind him. Franky flinched and stepped back quickly as the renowned spy reached past him to shake Stratus’ hand. He didn’t miss the small smirk curling the corner of Twilight’s mouth. Sadistic son of a bitch.

“Twi-guy! It’s been a while, good to be working with you again. Promise I won’t hold you back, even with this bum ankle.” Stratus clapped him on the shoulder. “Might actually help keep me in character. Don’t want your new friends at school to suspect your old man could outrun and outshoot any of them on a good day.”

“There isn’t going to be any shooting,” Handler said testily. “Please don’t make me regret putting the three of you on this mission. If only we weren’t perpetually short of senior female agents, I’d have staffed a woman as head of household in an instant.”

Stratus placed a hand dramatically on his chest in feigned hurt. “I guarantee, ma’am, your trust is not misplaced. Though…” He waggled an eyebrow. “You’re a senior female agent. The best in the agency. You sure you don’t want to join our little family as the Missus?”

Franky managed to laugh through the pain needling his newly hairless skin as Stratus ducked a swing from Handler. The old man was faster than he had initially given him credit for. At least one part of this mission was going to be fun. Having a father figure who shared his sense of humor would go a long way in making their cover believable. Or at least, it would balance out the dour, stick-up-the-ass attitude that Twilight seemed to carry at all times.

During the drive to 128 Park Avenue, the location of their new apartment and the ‘home base’ of their mission, Franky got to know his new father a bit more. Norman was only too happy to share stories of his past missions and close scrapes with the SSS, gesticulating animatedly while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. Franky didn’t even mind the fact he had to sit in the back while Twilight rode shotgun. 

Franky briefly wondered if it would be in character for two brothers to argue about who got to sit up front. Pity they were supposed to be seventeen for this mission and couldn’t drive independently. On the other hand, that meant they would have to take the bus to school. And he could only imagine how out of place Twilight would feel on a school bus full of yelling, gum-chewing teens.

Franky wasn’t a vindictive person by nature. But after the past two days of humiliation, especially the past hour of merciless torment, part of him itched to get back at the veteran spy in some underhanded way. He was confident that he, not the illustrious Twilight, would have this mission in the bag. He was the one who had actually gone to high school and knew all the unspoken rules of how to pass as a cool and well-liked kid without standing out too much. Whereas at the rate Twilight was going, he would be branded as a loser on day one, regardless of his good looks. 

“Not bad, not bad,” Franky whistled as they strolled into the sparkling clean, modestly furnished apartment. It was much nicer than any place he had lived before. “I call dibs on the bigger room!”

“Our ‘father’ should get the bigger room. Have some respect for seniority,” Twilight said as he set down two large suitcases. One held everything they needed for their covers, while the other held weapons and spy equipment. 

“I didn’t mean the biggest room!” Franky protested. “Just the second biggest. The one that’s bigger than yours.”

“Please stop talking,” Twilight said as he began inspecting all the furniture and fixtures for bugs. Stratus gave Franky an amused glance before joining him. 

Franky frowned. It sucked when his jokes fell flat. Not even his dad was on his side this time, making him feel like he was dragging them down with his unprofessionalism. He hurried down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll sweep the bedrooms!”

“Yeah, they might be really dusty!” Stratus said loudly. Too late, Franky realized that one should never announce they were sweeping for bugs in the middle of a sweep for bugs. He could almost feel Twilight’s condescension wafting through the air in his direction.

Franky resolved not to make any more mistakes, at least for the rest of the day. That meant staying in character and addressing his fellow agents by their cover names. Dad, or sir. And Loid.

Loid and Franky Forger, fraternal twins. Sons of a widower, Norman Forger. Their mother had died in their early childhood. 

As Franky combed for bugs, a crisp hammering sound echoed from the living room. Twilight was probably hanging up the few family photos they had brought with them. They were all doctored by WISE, of course. A recent photo of the brothers standing side by side, arms looped around each other’s shoulders. And a couple of older photos of Norman as a younger man (he had been wearing a black wig, with makeup expertly done by Twilight) and his late wife—a stony-faced female agent with blond bangs covering half her face. For some reason the woman had insisted that she be on the same side of the picture as young Loid (a doctored image of a fair-haired five year-old boy who was not Twilight). 

On paper, Norman had remarried after his first wife’s death, but there was no actual woman living with them. The home would have some light decorations indicative of a woman’s presence, just in case a guest came over. For now they would have to make excuses that their stepmom was away visiting relatives or something of the sort.

Once they had confirmed the apartment was free of listening devices, they set about unpacking and arranging their own rooms to their liking. A wave of nostalgia hit Franky as he placed a row of action figures across the top of his bookshelf and taped up posters of his favorite singers and the lead actress from Berlint in Love. It wasn’t much different from his bedroom in the house he’d grown up in, before he’d gone off to university. 

Before his parents, along with the rest of his family and most of his friends, had died in the war. 

Franky shook off the cloying sadness that always accompanied those memories, distracting himself by throwing t-shirts and underpants and socks haphazardly around the room. It was the first time in his life he was purposely making a mess instead of a mess accumulating passively due to his laziness. It was rather fun.

Satisfied that his room looked sufficient for the cover, he went across the hall to check on his ‘brother.’

“Yo, Loid, how’s it—what. The. Hell.” 

Twilight had finished unpacking and setting up his room, probably in half the time Franky had taken for his own. He was now sitting at the desk composing a report of some sort, completely ignoring Franky. The desk had nothing on it except the report and the pen Twilight was writing with. The rest of the room was even worse. The walls were empty except for a minimalist clock. The bed was made with military precision, all right angles and perfectly symmetrical pillows. The bookshelf was lined end to end with academic textbooks and classic novels common to high school curricula. There was not a single loose article of clothing in sight.

“Dude, you’re supposed to be a teenager, not the front desk at a real estate office!” Franky exclaimed. That got Twilight’s attention. He fixed him with that familiar steely blue glare, set down his pen, and leaned back in his swiveling desk chair.

“Oh? I’m an ambitious student looking to achieve the highest possible honors at the most elite school in the country. I don’t have time for distractions. A clean room free of clutter is key to my success.”

Franky shook his head, trying to be patient. At some point Twilight was going to have to cave to Franky’s practical experience in the one area the master spy had never dipped his toe into. But with how easily the latter grew defensive, Franky would have to be diplomatic.

“Come on. Let me show you my room.” He waved him over, and Twilight reluctantly followed.

The spy’s face twisted in disgust as soon as he stepped through the door. “What is this vulgarity? How do you even get to the bed without tripping on dirty underwear?”

“It’s not dirty! All the stuff you see here is fresh out of the laundry, I just did it to look the part! Because that’s what teenage boys do. They make a mess and they don’t care. That last part is really important. They don’t care,” Franky emphasized. Twilight recoiled a bit, as if the very idea of not caring, or even pretending not to care, was anathema to his perfectionist soul. “That’s what makes you fit in. That’s what makes you cool, even, if you can manage to not care about anything and still do well in school, still get all the girls and all that.”

Twilight ground his teeth as he considered what Franky was saying, perhaps for the first time. 

“Look, you could be an absolute god to these kids if you could just pull that off,” Franky chose flattery as a new approach. “You already have the intellect and the physique and the experience with women. Just throw a big bucket of ‘I don’t give a shit’ on top of all that and you win the game. Trust me on this, man.”

Slowly, the tension leaked out of Twilight’s shoulders as he looked at Franky with a hint of newfound respect. 

“Alright. I’ll think about it. Do my own research. But you may have a point,” he acknowledged, still as serious as ever. “I need to finish an urgent report at the moment, but we’ll speak again at dinner. Need to go over our profiles and make sure we have them down pat.”

Twilight turned toward the door and was about to leave when some unseen force compelled him to stop. He twitched slightly before he bent down and snatched up a fallen t-shirt at his feet, folded it into a neat square too fast for Franky to track, and tossed it onto the dresser. Then he swiftly walked out and shut the door, leaving Franky alone in his room.

Franky sighed deeply and drew a hand down his face. He really had his work cut out for him.

—

By Sunday, Franky had all but melded with his immature, seventeen year-old, hormone-ridden past self. The purposeful mess he’d made in his room began to expand to other parts of the apartment. He didn’t bother wiping up any stray droplets of piss that hit the rim of the toilet after he did his business. He let hand towels hang askew. He left books and magazines lying around face-down in the living room. He only halfheartedly wiped the dining table after meals, leaving an oily residue and a couple of coffee mug stains where he had ‘forgotten’ to use a coaster.

Franky knew all of it was driving Twilight insane. A particular vein in his forehead stood out as he clenched his jaw and forced himself not to pick up after all of his partner’s ‘mistakes.’ At least not immediately. Usually by the next morning, the bathroom was spotless, the living room looked like a staged photo out of a real estate ad, and the dining table was polished to a sheen.

Franky could only imagine how badly Twilight would freak out if he managed to sneak into his bedroom and mess something up. Not anything obvious. Perhaps he could tug at the coverlet on the bed so that it wasn’t perfectly parallel to the floor anymore, but just a few degrees off. Something no normal human would ever notice, but Twilight would feel it like a bee sting to the face. 

It was an idea for another time. Pulling pranks was something all brothers did to each other. But Franky would have to ease the man into it. He didn’t want him to snap and accidentally put Franky out on medical leave before they could get started on the mission.

Twilight seemed tense as they made their way to the WISE office for the final meeting with Handler before they would head to school tomorrow. It was a bit odd. Franky thought Twilight had been through tons of these briefings with Handler. But perhaps he was still dwelling on the messy shower drain from the morning. Franky hadn’t bothered to pick all his stray curly hairs out of the drain holes after showering.

Though the last time they’d seen Handler she’d been casually joking with them, she was all business as soon as Stratus shut the door to her office behind them. The space was rather cramped, with three chairs arranged side by side with almost no empty space in between. Twilight waited for Stratus to choose a seat—the middle one—before sitting down at his right. Franky took the one remaining chair on their ‘father’s’ left.

A hint of humor finally touched Handler’s stern expression as she studied them from behind her desk. “What a nice family portrait you three make. I trust you made good use of the past few days to solidify your cover?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Twilight and Franky replied, while Stratus nodded with a grin and clapped both his ‘sons’ on the back. 

The spark of humor soon disappeared, and Handler leaned forward and folded her hands over her desk. 

“This will serve as your final briefing before the operation officially commences tomorrow. The mission will be known as Operation Strix. You are already familiar with the objective, and you had better have memorized your profiles inside and out so that even severely drunk and concussed, you’ll be able to spit out every minute detail of your new identities. Not that you’ll be getting drunk or concussed on this mission. Ground rules.”

She stood to her feet and rounded the desk, then leaned back against it with her arms crossed, looking down her nose at the three of them. It had the intended intimidating effect. Even Stratus straightened up a bit at the oncoming lecture from their superior.

“You two,” she indicated Twilight and Franky with a slight jut of her chin, “were chosen for this mission because you look young, and I have a reasonable amount of confidence that you can act young as well. You, because your acting skills are the best in the business. And you, because it’s obvious you were living your best life while in high school.”

Franky was a bit offended at that, but didn’t react. Handler sure had a way with words, calling him immature without saying so outright.

“I need you to play the part to the best of your ability. Remember that you are teenagers, not adults. Your brains aren’t fully developed. Neither are your bodies. Your hormones are raging out of control, causing you to make regrettable, asinine decisions almost every day, sometimes several times a day. Twilight.”

The seasoned spy maintained his perfect poker face, but held himself just a little taller as she focused her full attention on him.

“You’re already a 50 year-old man living in a 27 year-old’s body. Beat that genius intellect into submission and shrink your internal age gap so you’re just a 27 year-old pretending to be a 17 year-old.”

Franky made a small choking noise as he failed to hold in his laughter. Handler’s laser sharp gaze pinned him in place next.

“But there’s a limit to playing the part. Rule number one. Do not get expelled.” 

She was looking at Franky alone, not even blinking. He fought not to squirm.

“Do not do anything stupid enough to get you kicked out of Eden Academy. Usually a student would have to rack up eight Tonitrus bolts to warrant expulsion, but the school is quick to dispose of truly egregious offenders. You don’t know how many strings we had to pull to get you two enrolled on such a short timeline. I will not be happy if all my effort goes to waste because you lose yourself in the role and do something truly idiotic. I will be quite angry, in fact. And you do not want to see me angry.”

A pregnant pause. She raised one fine eyebrow at Franky.

“No, ma’am,” he said hurriedly. “No angry. I mean, no, I will not make you angry.”

“Good.” She smiled, and the murderous aura in the room lifted a bit. “Do your best to fit in. Follow the rules when adults are watching. Do not attract undue attention. You will need to perform your best to get the eight Stella Stars necessary for Imperial Scholar status within the desired timeframe of this mission. Half a year. Nine months, at the most.”

“Rule number two. Stay clean and sober. You’re investigating a drug smuggling operation, but do not under any circumstances use any drugs yourself or distribute them to fellow students. Remember, these are minors you will be rubbing shoulders with day in and day out. We commit a wide range of shady acts in our trade, but harming minors is one of the few things that fall out of bounds. And that brings me to rule number three.”

Again, Handler’s penetrating gaze focused on Franky. “Do not have sexual entanglements with any students. Honey traps are one of the most effective ways of eliciting secrets, if and only if the target is a consenting adult. You are not at Eden Academy to run wild and get your dick wet for the first time. In fact, that shit is the worst kind of crime. And I will not bail you out if you make the worst decision of your life on this mission. No, I’ll be the one handing your sorry ass over to the authorities. In Westalis. Where the enforcement of the law on this matter is even harsher than in Ostania.”

Franky gulped. Right. He couldn’t get so far into his role where he literally became a pedophile. Handler’s warning rattled him just as much as she intended it to.

The tension eased once more as Handler turned back to her desk and retrieved a couple of folders, which she handed to Franky and Twilight. 

“These are your class schedules. Memorize them. They are carefully coordinated so as to grant the maximum number of opportunities to achieve the objective between the two of you.”

Franky scanned the paper in front of him, eager to see which classes he was enrolled in. He paused and read through it again, then a third time, just to be sure. He leaned over to catch a peek at Twilight’s schedule and frowned.

“Uh, ma’am?” he said hesitantly. 

“Yes?”

“These aren’t, well, real classes,” he said. “I mean, woodworking? Theater? Intro to ballroom dance?”

“I hope you’re light on your feet, rookie,” Handler said with a smile.

“I can assure you he’s not,” Twilight murmured to himself. If they weren’t in the presence of the most powerful person at WISE, Franky would’ve slugged him in the arm. Instead he looked up at Handler in confusion.

“Why am I taking so many electives when Twilight’s got stuff like advanced contemporary literature and macroeconomics?” he asked. “I thought the goal was to become Imperial Scholars.”

Handler settled back behind her desk and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers. 

“That is the goal,” she answered, “but we plan on Twilight doing most of the heavy lifting. You’re there to provide backup and get some mentorship from our top agent. Just lay low, build connections, keep an ear out for anything suspicious about Demetrius and his friends among the less ambitious students at the school.”

Franky swore he saw Twilight sit up straighter ever so slightly with pride as she said this. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, he was WISE’s best agent, but he didn’t need to get so high off his own ego.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I’m plenty smart,” Franky ventured. Handler let out a light laugh.

“Oh I know, don’t worry. You wouldn’t be sitting here if you weren’t. But I also saw your transcript. You’re a slacker, rookie. I can’t have you fumbling your objective and your academics.”

Franky shrank down in his seat as his face flushed with embarrassment. All of this was undoubtedly feeding into Twilight’s poor image of him. Stratus reached over and patted his arm with a jovial chuckle. 

“Well, don’t you worry, Handler, I’ll make sure this one does his homework,” the old man quipped. The smile on Handler’s lips quirked, then slowly melted into a grim straight line.

“This is one of the most important missions we’ve ever undertaken,” she said, the amusement once again gone from her voice. “Everything we’re doing here is for the safety and wellbeing of the next generation. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Franky swallowed and his gaze fell to the floor.

“Yes, ma’am.”

—

Later that night, Franky walked by Twilight’s room and caught a glance of him ironing his Eden uniform. He ventured inside on a whim, noting that, unsurprisingly, Twilight had taken none of his advice and the floor was still spotless. He’d made fun of the veteran spy plenty over the past few days, but he felt a genuine resentment and annoyance beginning to brew in his stomach seeing Twilight iron his perfect uniform in his perfect room.

“C’mon, man, it’s not gonna kill you if there’s a wrinkle in your uniform,” Franky said as he sat down on Twilight’s bed. Twilight glared at him.

“Don’t sit on my bed with your outside clothes on. You’ll get my sheets dirty,” he snapped. With a grin, Franky laid down and kicked his feet, shoes still on, onto the covers.

“Oh? You don’t want me to do this?” he teased. “I walked around a public bathroom today. Who knows what gross things are sticking to the bottom of my shoes? I think that puddle next to the sink was actually piss now that I think about it.”

Twilight’s grip around the iron tightened. He held it up.

“I could melt your clothes onto your skin right now,” he growled, waving the implement threateningly in his direction.

“Probably won’t feel any worse than all that hot wax you dripped on me. That a fetish of yours or something?” Franky taunted. 

“Why you–”

“Boys! What’s going on in here?” Norman stood at the door with his arms folded, every bit the stern father.

“Nothing,” both men replied at the same time. Twilight discreetly resumed ironing his uniform, while Franky shuffled off the bed. Norman tsked.

“No shoes on the bed, young man, that is breaking a house rule. You get a timeout for five minutes.”

“What!” Franky said, more bemused than bothered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Twilight’s lips twitch in a faint smile. “Dad, I’m a teenager, not in kindergarten.”

“Then no TV for two days.”

“Aw man!”

“Actions beget consequences! Best you learn that early in life, son. And best you two turn in early tonight, too. You have a big day tomorrow, going off to that fancy pants school your mother always dreamed you’d attend.” Norman made a show of wiping away a non-existent tear. “If only she could see you both now.”

An awkward three seconds passed as Twilight and Franky glanced at each other.

“Uh…right. Yeah, I miss her too. Dad.” Twilight coughed into his fist and Franky fought not to laugh.

“Goodnight, boys. So proud of you both.” Norman left them alone with a wave.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Franky doubled over in forcefully quiet laughter. Twilight’s jaw quivered, a sign that even his masterful acting couldn’t contain his amusement.

“Sorry about the shoes,” Franky said after he recovered. “If it makes you feel any better, there was no puddle.”

Twilight brushed it off. “Just don’t act like that in front of teachers. Or Demetrius. I’ll need to make a good impression. I can’t have you embarrassing me in front of him or the rest of the class.”

Franky rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he headed to the door. “Well, I guess we should turn in early like Dad said.”

At the lack of an answer from Twilight, Franky shrugged and was halfway into the hall when the other man stopped him. 

“Franky, I know I might be hard on you, but…”

Franky froze and didn’t dare turn around at the beginning of a rare, almost-apology from the hotshot spy. 

“But,” Twilight continued after a pause, “you show promise. You’ve challenged my assumptions a few times already and made me think. I appreciate that. Just like that day on the hillside.”

Franky’s throat grew unexpectedly thick, and he was glad Twilight couldn’t see his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said, still facing out into the hall. “And I appreciate that you were willing to listen. And that you didn’t shoot me.”

Twilight might have nodded or given some other indication of acknowledgment, but Franky obviously couldn’t see it. 

“Well, goodnight, Loid.”

“Goodnight, Franky.”

Chapter Text

For all his teasing and goofing, Franky woke up on the first day of school with anxiety twisting in his stomach. His high school days hadn’t been easy, regardless of his slacker status. Many of his peers—more specifically and to his disappointment, girls— had found him to be awkward and annoying. He recalled spending many Friday nights and weekends alone in his room as he tried to stave off his loneliness by taking apart whatever spare electronics he had bought with his allowance. Yes, he’d had friends, but, truth be told, his social skills were one of the last things to develop.

Franky tried to shake off his doubts as he shaved in the bathroom mirror. Even though he’d shaved the morning before, a new coat of thick stubble covered his chin, jaw, and neck. At this rate, he might need to start shaving twice a day to keep up appearances. His skin was still slightly raw from the waxing from a few days ago. Handler had said this mission was going to last several months. How many more times would he have to endure feeling like his skin was being ripped from his flesh? His chest and legs stung at the thought.

He emerged from the bathroom to find Twilight eating breakfast with their assigned father. 

“You nervous for your first day, son?” Norman asked as Franky sat down. He was chewing on some scrambled eggs, undoubtedly made by Twilight.

“Not at all,” he replied as he reached over to snatch a slice of bacon from the pan. His attempt was thwarted by Twilight who slapped his hand.

“Use the tongs,” he snapped, “I know you didn’t wash your hands.”

“I did!”

No he didn’t, but that wasn’t important. As he loaded up a plate with food, Twilight ran through the mission details one last time.

“We’re both in Cecile Hall, the same as the Desmonds,” he said as he looked through their class schedules for what must’ve been the hundredth time since they got them from Handler. “We can attempt to initiate contact during the shared lunch period. However we also share a class with him in fifth period which might be a better opportunity.”

“Don’t I have another class with him after that?”

“I believe so, yes,” Twilight flipped back to Franky’s schedule. “Band practice, so it seems.”

Norman perked up from his plate of eggs and bacon. “I didn’t know you played an instrument, kiddo! My sons are so talented.”

“I don’t,” Franky said through a full mouth of food, “but it’s just high school band. I’m not worried.” 

“You should be worried,” Twilight muttered. “The Eden Academy Symphony is a distinguished musical ensemble.” 

“Wait, for real?”

“Yes, I believe Demetrius is the first chair trumpet player. Don’t make yourself look stupid in front of him.”

Franky leaned back in his chair with a defeated groan. Norman patted him on the back.

“Ah, you’ll be fine. I raised you to believe in yourself, didn’t I?” he said with a proud smile. Franky was beginning to wonder if Stratus was really into his cover or if he was just…like that.

“Thanks…Dad.”

After their briefing over breakfast, Norman saw them off— “Have fun! Play nice with the other kids! No biting!” —and Franky and Twilight, now Loid, were on their way to school. However, their mission didn’t begin when they entered Eden Academy property, no, it began much sooner than that: at the bus stop. The two, now dressed in their full Eden uniforms, stood at an intersection as they waited for the bus. Despite how expensive the uniform had been, Franky found it to be ever so slightly itchy and he shifted uncomfortably in the fabric.

“Tw—Loid,” he said, trying to get his mind off the unpleasant sensation, “have you ever been on a school bus before?”

Twilight shrugged and replied, “I’ve been on several military buses.”

“Ah,” Franky folded his arms knowingly, “so you don’t know about the delicate ecosystem of a high school bus.”

Twilight looked at him with the same expression he always wore when he thought Franky was talking nonsense, which was often. Franky ignored his skeptical glare and continued.

“Where are you planning on sitting on the bus?”

Twilight stood up straighter as he thought. After some consideration, he replied, “Near the front if there’s space. That way in the event that the driver becomes compromised I can easily access the wheel.”

“Loid.”

“What?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because only losers sit at the front of the bus,” Franky explained very seriously. “Cool kids sit in the back of the bus.”

Twilight turned and studied Franky very carefully as his skeptical expression doubled down.

“Franky,” he said slowly, “when you were in high school, did you sit in the back of the bus?”

No, he hadn’t. He’d sat at the front of the bus. Like a loser.

Franky took a small step back, quickly trying to sputter excuses. “J—Just trust me on this, man! I’ve been to high school already, I know what to do!”

“So you weren’t a cool kid, then,” Twilight continued, his frown deepening. “And yet you insist on teaching me what to do. Interesting.”

“At least I went to high school!”

They bickered back and forth until they heard the growing roar of an engine and the turning of large wheels down the pavement. They both stopped and watched the yellow bus roll closer to them with anticipation. The stress churning in Franky’s stomach thickened just at the sight of it. Finally, the bus squealed to a stop in front of them and the doors folded open, beckoning them inside. Franky turned to Twilight one last time and met his gaze with a nod.

It was time.

—

It was with annoyance that Twilight—Loid—passed by the open rows behind the bus driver and sat in the farthest seat down. They were near the beginning of the bus route and thus there were only a few other students already there. As Twilight and Franky passed by them, the students watched them with disinterested glances. However, a couple studied them closer, undoubtedly noting their unusually tall frames. Twilight simply ignored them and feigned normalcy; if he acted insecure about his cover then it would only seem more suspicious.

He found the back of the bus to be nowhere near as glorious as Franky had made it sound. They were directly over the back wheels and so they jostled with every turn and bump on the road, breathing in the gasoline fumes from the engine. He glared at Franky, wondering how in the world this was supposed to be the most desirable seat on the bus. As for the rest of the students, more and more piled on without granting them any sort of acknowledgement, instead absorbed in their own already-established friend groups.

“I’m very glad we went through all the trouble of getting the best seats,” Twilight murmured to Franky.

“Oh shut up.”

Twilight was determined not to let the anticlimactic start get in the way of their mission. As per his training, he immediately began gathering intel. From what he observed, the Forgers fell on the lowest rung of the socioeconomic pecking order at Eden. Taking the bus to school should have already been enough of a sign to anyone that the Forger brothers did not have the luxury of a rich family (instead they were backed by an overworked and underfunded government program). Judging from the gated neighborhoods and large estates they passed by, it was safe to assume that not many other Eden students lived in an apartment building. Twilight and Franky would have to work even harder to get on the same social footing as their peers.

The bus turned a corner and finally Eden Academy came into view in all its glory. Twilight stiffened at the sight. He had done plenty of surveillance work on the large property before in preparation, but it felt different approaching the large school with the intention to enter as a student. The academy was built in classic Gothic architectural style. It was elegant, regal, even. It made the fact that Twilight was currently listening to one of its esteemed students in the row in front of him make a crude joke about boobs even more jarring.

Franky nudged him when they exited the bus. Twilight gave him a questioning look.

“Dude, you look like you’re about to kill someone,” Franky whispered. “Chill out.”

“I’m just focused,” Twilight whispered back. “We need to get an understanding of the social climate so we can better infiltrate Demetrius’s peer group.”

Franky slung an arm around Twilight’s neck with a knowing laugh. Twilight fought the urge to suplex-style throw him to the ground.

“Oh, well, allow me to give you a tour of the social groups of high school,” he said smugly. “There’s the athletes, the nerds, the popular kids, the weird kids…”

They were completely surrounded by a steady stream of students making their way to the main hall. There were plenty of cliques and friend groups socializing and messing around on the school grounds, but none of them seemed to belong to the groups Franky was talking about. Instead, he recognized children of elite business groups conversing with one another as if mirroring their parents’ corporate meetings.

“This is the institute for modern aristocrats, Franky,” he muttered, “not some country school.”

“Kids are the same no matter who or where they are,” Franky said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Every school has cliques. The goal is to get in with the right groups and avoid the bad ones.”

“There’s bad ones?”

“Oh yeah,” Franky continued. “For example, you wanna avoid student council kids like the plague. They’re the worst. They can be nice sometimes but they usually have a stick up their–”

A voice behind them interrupted Franky with a cough. They turned to see a student in a thick black and red cloak watching them, papers in hand. His dark hair was long, the bangs sweeping into his eyes.

“Loid and Frank Forger?” the student asked. Franky and Twilight glanced at each other and then back at the student.

“Yep!” Franky said as he held out his hand for a shake. “You can call me Franky, though.”

The student took in Franky’s wrinkled uniform—he had somehow managed to already get a small stain on it—and then back at his outstretched hand with barely disguised disapproval. 

“I’m Yuri Briar,” he said without taking Franky’s hand, “Vice president of the student council. I’ve been tasked with ensuring you adjust to Eden Academy. Unless you’d rather avoid me, of course.”

Franky’s face grew pale. Twilight stifled a snicker.

“And I assume that means you’re Loid Forger?” Yuri asked with a raised eyebrow. Twilight put on his best practiced smile.

“I am. It’s good to meet you, Yuri.”

It was Twilight’s turn to be subject to Yuri’s scrutiny. His uniform was neat and wrinkle-free, his hair neatly combed, and posture straight and proper. And yet, something in Yuri’s glare meant that he still failed his evaluation.

“How old are you?” Yuri asked.

“Seventeen,” Twilight answered as casually as possible. “We both are.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. Internally, Twilight felt panic begin to bubble in his stomach. How did this kid already suspect them?

“Right,” Yuri said finally. He turned and beckoned them to follow. “Come this way. I’ll show you to your classes.”

They navigated a maze of tall, arched hallways, passing by students and faculty alike. A few wore cloaks like Yuri—a mark of Imperial Scholar status. The tour that Yuri was giving them was useless; Twilight had done plenty of recon beforehand but he listened with pretend interest.

“You’ll be expected to uphold the Eden standard of excellence,” Yuri explained sharply as they walked. “I don’t know what sort of…institute you previously attended, but Eden students are shining examples of virtue and professionalism. You’d do well to avoid tarnishing that reputation.”

Twilight eyed a couple in a corner of the hallway voraciously making out, mouths and hands wandering all over each other.

“Virtue and professionalism indeed,” he muttered. It was hardly eight thirty in the morning, where did these kids have the energy to be so engrossed with each other?

His comment wasn’t lost on Yuri who followed his gaze. As Twilight and Franky watched in horror, he marched up to the couple, yanked them apart, and gave them both slips for detention while reprimanding them about the Eden PDA policy. Passing students in the hallway continued on as if this were a normal occurrence, which it seemed it was.

“I don’t think Yuri’s involved with whatever the Desmonds have going on,” Franky mumbled to Twilight, to which he nodded in agreement. Normally Twilight would have reminded him that a good spy didn’t make assumptions so quickly, but this time he let it slide. Once Yuri was finished lecturing the offending students, he returned to his tour of the school.

“As a member of the student council, I’m authorized to administer punishment, as you saw earlier,” Yuri said, and then added with a glare to them, “Do not give me a reason to do so.”

“Got it, no trouble,” Franky replied. If the stare Yuri gave them was any indication of his opinion on the brothers, it seemed he already didn’t trust them. But he didn’t say any more on the subject and dropped them off at a classroom.

“This is where I take my leave,” he said. “Behave yourselves. I’m watching you.”

Before they could reply, he disappeared into the crowd.

“What a nice guy,” Franky muttered with the roll of his eyes. “See what I was saying about student council kids? They suck.”

For once, Franky was right.

The first few class periods went by without much incident. Franky and Twilight had their first class together. When the teacher called their names on roll call, she paused and regarded them with some skepticism.

“Are you two related?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Twilight quickly answered. “Twins. Fraternal, of course.”

It was a complete joke that they were trying to pass as brothers. Loid was at least a head and a half taller than Franky with completely different facial structure and hair. But, as Handler had said, it would be easier for them to be related than not. However, despite being two of the youngest WISE agents, they still looked ridiculously more physically mature than the students around them. 

Regardless, the teacher left the matter alone and continued on with roll call. It wouldn’t be the last time someone did a double take at either of them, but for the most part, their lies worked. The only person who couldn’t let go of their doubt had been Yuri.

That was why when Twilight ran into Yuri in the locker room before gym class, he bit back a weary sigh.

“Forger,” Yuri greeted with a scowl.

“Yuri,” he replied with a civil smile. Franky turned the corner and caught up with Twilight. This was another class they had together.

“Other Forger,” Yuri murmured.

“Yo.”

Yuri once again stared at them as if that alone would allow him to throw the two into detention, but eventually turned away.

“I trust you’re both adjusting to Eden alright?” he asked as he clicked open his gym locker. His tone was anything but friendly.

Twilight froze in the middle of pulling off his shirt. Was this kid really about to interrogate him while they changed clothes?

“Yep. It’s pretty cool,” Franky answered, seemingly unbothered. His skin was still slightly pink and yet he already had the faintest bit of fuzz appearing on his chest. 

“Eden isn’t ‘cool,’ Forger,” Yuri growled, “It’s a celebrated academy with an illustrious past. They don’t let just anyone walk in.” He paused and then added, “At least they didn’t, anyway.”

“I’m well aware of Eden’s history,” Twilight replied. He quickly reached for his gym shirt, as he didn’t want to be exposed for too long lest someone catch a glimpse of his scarred back or bruised ribs. “It’s an honor to be here.”

“Which school did you attend before Eden? It wasn’t on your student page,” Yuri asked. 

“Just a local school in our hometown. Nothing significant. You’ve definitely never heard of it.”

Yuri turned to them. “Try me.”

Before Twilight could give an answer, Franky put a hand gingerly on his shoulder. Twilight twitched slightly at the feeling of Franky’s sweaty palm on his bare back.

“Loidy doesn’t like talking about our old school,” Franky said gravely. “It brings up…bad memories.”

Yuri gave them both a skeptical look. For the first time in a long time, Twilight felt self-conscious about being nearly naked. There was something incredibly awkward about the fact that all three of them were standing in various states of undress, staring at each other while trying to decipher the other’s intentions.

Yuri pulled on his shorts and gave them one final glare.

“Whatever. Just do not cause trouble for the staff, otherwise I’ll get you expelled,” he warned before strutting off.

After he was gone, Franky gave Twilight a smile.

“Pretty good cover, huh?” he said, clearly proud of himself.

“Franky?”

“Hm?”

“Get your hand off of me.”

“Oh right.”

As they finished getting dressed, Twilight caught up with Franky. It was still early in the school day and neither of them had even seen Demetrius yet, thus there was little to report.

“Has anyone else asked you about your age?” Twilight murmured. Franky shook his head.

“No. Except for this one little kid who thought I was his professor,” he whispered back, “but other than that, no. Only that Yuri guy.”

“What is wrong with him?” Twilight grumbled as they made their way out to the Eden Academy gym. 

“He’s probably just protective,” Franky replied with a shrug.

“Protective of who?”

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

Franky broke out into a grin that Twilight wanted to punch.

“Oh wow, I can’t believe I have this delicious piece of intel and you don’t,” he gloated. “And after you gave me such a hard time about not doing my proper research.”

“An act of violence towards another student immediately gets you three Tonitrus bolts,” Loid snarled. “Don’t tempt me.”

Franky relented with a laugh, “It’s nothing big. I just recognized Yuri’s last name, Briar. He’s related to our gym teacher. Siblings, I think.”

“Our gym teacher? We’ll have to get on his good side, then. Sometimes Stellas are awarded to students for outstanding physical feats.”

“Her good side,” Franky corrected with a smirk. “She’s a lady.”

“Excuse me, we’ll have to get on her good side, then,” Loid said. He noticed Franky’s smile. “Control yourself, Franky. Remember what Handler said.”

Franky interlaced his fingers and held them behind his head with a laugh.

“That goes for you too, Loidy,” Franky sang.

“Whatever.”

They pushed the gym doors open, ready for whatever challenges would arise.

Chapter Text

Eden’s gym for upperclassmen was state-of-the-art, polished to a sheen, equipped with the latest amenities that professional athletes would drool over. Despite the large number of students who used it every day, there was not a hint of that old sweat smell that many training facilities accumulated over time. The air was refreshingly cool, with the slightest edge of citrus and wood polish.

Dozens of sneakers squeaked against the immaculately smooth floor as the students ran warmup laps around the perimeter. Loid made sure to stay in the middle of the group so as not to stand out, ‘running’ at a quarter of the speed he’d usually consider a run. 

A few hours into the first day, and he had already drawn more stares than he ever had on a mission. It was the worst feeling for a spy. On instinct, his mind constantly lasered in on his evac plans as if he were mere seconds from being found out by the SSS. He forced himself to breathe evenly and calm down. He was Twilight. He had hidden in plain sight plenty of times. And these were teenagers. They were the least likely demographic to suspect a spy to be among them. 

As he mentally cataloged all his classmates, he also kept an eye on the one person in the vast gymnasium who wasn’t running. Yor Briar, known as Coach Briar to Eden students.

Yor was Yuri’s older sister. Athletically built and fairly tall for a woman, she looked to be in her early to mid twenties, clearly much younger than the other teachers at Eden. Twilight was surprised that someone that young was allowed to join the ranks of Eden’s esteemed faculty. In addition, it was rare for schools to hire female physical education teachers. Physical education and sports, often intertwined with Ostania’s national image as a prolific producer of Olympic gold medalists, was a traditionally male arena where egos and testosterone ran high.

Coach Briar was also highly attractive in an objective sense, as he’d heard multiple times in hushed, slightly out-of-breath whispers from the boys around him.

Hoffman’s crazy lucky. Heard she thigh choked him during wrestling practice. As a ‘demonstration.’

Damn, so he must have gotten his hands on that ass! 

Nah, pretty sure he ran out of oxygen before he could.

Aw, man. 

Imagine that being your last sight, man. What a way to go.

Okay, so maybe she was attractive in an unconventional sense, if the boys’ chatter was any indication. They all seemed to find her sexually arousing and brutishly terrifying at the same time.

Although she was undoubtedly athletic, she didn’t appear terrifying at all, standing there in her bright green tracksuit with her arms folded loosely across her chest. She also displayed several micro behaviors that suggested she was insecure and unsure of her standing and authority—fidgeting, a slightly nervous smile, subtly shifting her weight from one side to the other. Twilight began to see the sibling resemblance, except where Yuri glowered and snarled, Coach Briar was all bright encouraging smiles as she watched the first of her students finish the obligatory warmup and slow to a stop in front of her. Twilight soon joined them, again attempting to blend in by taking a less conspicuous spot in the middle of the crowd.

Yuri’s eyes were usually narrowed in suspicious slits, but Twilight had noticed early on that they were an unusual shade, too dark to be amber and too light to be brown. More like crimson. Coach Briar’s eyes seemed to be the same. The most unique eye color he’d ever seen. He wasn’t sure WISE’s disguise department even carried contacts of that shade.

“You’re staring.”

Suddenly Yuri’s face was in front of him again, red eyes glaring into his, blocking his view. The boy had to stand on his toes to reach Twilight’s eyeline.

“I’m looking at the teacher like I’m supposed to,” Twilight said evenly.

“You’re supposed to listen to the teacher, not ogle,” Yuri snapped.

“And if you’re in front of me, I can’t do either,” Twilight said. “Please move out of the way.”

“No, you pervert.”

“Yuri?” a soft voice called. “Is everything alright? You’re not paying attention.”

Yuri’s face instantly transformed from a mask of annoyance and suspicion into a gleaming, loving expression. Interesting.

“No problems at all, sis–Coach!” he chirped as he turned around. “Just reminding the new student of the Eden policies about respect and professionalism.”

“Oh, do we have a new student?” Yuri’s sister asked, clapping her slender hands in excitement. “That’s lovely! Why don’t you come to the front and introduce yourself?”

Twilight swallowed, finding that his mouth had suddenly gone dry. With some hesitation, he stepped forward in front of the class, about forty other students in total. In any other situation being a head taller than everyone else in the room with at least twice the amount of muscle mass would be a big advantage. However he now felt like a caged animal at the zoo with the number of eyes on him—the boys with a mix of skepticism and envy, the girls with shy or not-so-shy admiration, which only worsened his discomfort.

Yuri’s sister did not help in the slightest. Her welcoming smile had faded a bit as she studied Twilight’s appearance and was undoubtedly taken aback like everyone else he’d met so far today. Her expression was still polite, as she had to set a good example for the class, but there was a certain guardedness behind her pleasant mask of confusion. 

Now, standing right next to her, he found himself hyper-aware of her physical presence as well. On a visceral level, his senses told him there was something different about this woman, something about her guarded aura that carried a hidden edge. He would normally zero in on this to determine if she might become a complicating factor or even a threat to his cover, but with the immediate pressure of the class’ attention, he could not parse out what exactly it was.

Up close, Coach Briar was even more beautiful than when he’d glanced at her from afar during laps. She had the sort of beauty that trapped you in, the kind that made you want to continue looking and explore her elegant features. Her only flaw was that she greatly resembled her brother—which was not exactly a damning comparison, as Yuri Briar was not ugly, just incredibly irritating. They had the same flowing black hair and, upon closer inspection, the same bright eyes, as Twilight had originally thought. He studied her carefully, memorizing her features for when he next had to disguise himself as a good-looking woman.

“What’s your name?” she gently prompted. Twilight realized he’d been lost in thought while looking at her. He turned to the rest of the class.

“My name’s Loid Forger. I moved here with my brother Frank,” he nodded at Franky. “I look forward to getting to know the rest of you.”

“O-Oh, there’s two new students!” Coach Briar exclaimed, and beckoned for Franky. “Come on up here and introduce yourself as well!”

Twilight didn’t like the glint in Franky’s eyes when Coach Briar called on him. He could only guess what was going on in the man’s crude mind, likely several crass comments that Twilight didn’t want to hear but inevitably later would. Franky took his place next to him.

“I’m Frank, but you guys can call me Franky,” he introduced himself, then added with a sly grin, “Be nice to my brother, Loid. He can look mean but he’s a big ol’ softie. He’s just shy.”

A wave of snickers ran through the rows of students. Twilight resolved to punish Franky later by making him clean the bathroom at home. Twice, because he never did a thorough job on the first try.

“It’s good to meet you both, Franky and Loid,” Coach Briar said cheerfully. “Where did you move from?”

“Just a small rural town outside of Berlint,” Twilight replied, returning her encouraging smile. He caught Yuri angrily glaring at him out of the corner of his eye.

“I see. Do either of you play any sports?” she asked. “We’re always looking to expand our sports teams!”

“No,” both of them replied in unison. Coach Briar tilted her head in confusion.

“Not even you, Loid?”

“I can’t say I have,” he answered with a casual shrug.

“But you’re…” she trailed off as if she couldn’t find the right words.

“I’m…?”

Her eyes flicked down his body, and she suddenly straightened up with a cough. 

“…so tall!” she said finally. Her face was bright red.

“Oh.” Twilight raised a hand to his neck, a movement befitting that of a nervous teenager. “Yeah, my dad’s pretty tall. Guess I got it from him.”

Coach Briar absentmindedly hummed in response, as if her mind was elsewhere. She snapped out of it and clapped her hands together again.

“Well, let’s get started, everyone!” she said with a chipper smile.

For the first time on this mission, Twilight allowed himself to feel some optimism. Exemplary academics were a good way to get Stellas, but they were typically only awarded at the end of the semester after finals. On the other hand, opportunities for physical accomplishments presented themselves more often. He would have to prove himself, something he knew he was more than capable of. This would be easy.

—

Twilight had been right—he was in the top of his class in terms of physical capabilities. However, proving himself was anything but easy.

Apparently it was normal for ‘warmups’ to take up half of a phys ed class taught by Coach Briar. There were the typical warmups, like pushups, situps, and squats, except she’d ordered them to do a hundred of each, with barely a break between sets. 

Then there was running bleachers. They went outside and promptly began running up and down the metal benches. They were supposed to do it twenty times, but some kids hadn’t even started, still taking a breather from the previous exercises. His own ‘brother’ was one of them. Served him right. He’d already begun needling Twilight about the gym teacher.

“‘Who cares about girls,’ you said,” Franky had huffed while Twilight held his feet during situps. “‘Watch me, I know how to talk to women,’ you said.”

Twilight hadn’t bothered responding, merely twisting his ankle enough to make him yelp.

Yuri Briar, on the other hand, threw himself with unparalleled gusto into every exercise. He clearly worshipped his older sister. Twilight had witnessed several more instant transformations of his ornery demeanor into a beatific, virtually sparkling smile whenever Coach Briar looked his way. It was almost…creepy.

But the ornery demeanor was now back as Yuri had somehow managed to keep up with Twilight’s brisk pace up and down the bleachers. He was red in the face and panting hard from exertion, and almost stumbled several times, but every time Twilight pulled slightly ahead, he magically gained a second wind and powered on. 

The spy briefly contemplated whether he should just let the teen surpass him and have his little mental victory. He wasn’t going to earn a Stella for finishing warmups the fastest. Plus, his still-healing rib was throbbing from all the movement.

But something about the boy’s irksome, vindictive glare drove Twilight to be petty just this once. He pretended not to notice Yuri at all as he dutifully ran up and down the bleachers, leg muscles and lungs straining close to their limit by the twentieth and final rep. If anything, this was a good way to stay in shape while maintaining his cover at the same time. 

“Impressive,” Coach Briar praised when he reached the bottom of the bleachers and hopped down onto the ground, followed by a wheezing Yuri a split-second later. “You’re the first student I’ve had who ran through all the warmups without stopping.”

“What about me, Coach?” Yuri whined. “I’ve never taken a break either!”

“Oh, right. You’re one of my students, too,” the woman giggled, then coughed in an attempt to maintain professionalism. “Well, Loid, you’re the second student, then.”

Twilight could practically feel the dark waves of jealousy wafting off Yuri’s form, but ignored him as he offered Coach Briar an easy smile. “I do enjoy a good challenge. I appreciate it when teachers push us to be better.”

His hunch had been right. Coach Briar beamed at the compliment, and a bit of her insecurity melted away. He supposed no students were likely to thank her for running them into the ground right before lunch period.

Twilight stood off to the side and watched the rest of the students drag themselves up and down the bleachers. Franky was among the stragglers and looked like he was about to faint.

“Pick up the pace, Frank!” Twilight cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. That was one good thing about having to act as brothers. He could take potshots like this as payback.

Franky glared at him on the way down from the top of the bleachers, and reached up to adjust his foggy glasses. Just then his foot slipped, and he pitched forward.

Twilight winced in anticipation of the inevitable bruises his fellow agent would sustain from the tumble. But then something happened that set off his internal alarm bells in a completely different way.

Faster than his eye could track, Coach Briar disappeared from where she had been standing next to her brother, rematerialized all the way up the bleachers where Franky was, and caught him by the shoulder right before he slammed face-first into a bench. 

“Are you alright?” she asked in concern.

Franky blinked as if in shock that nothing was broken or bruised. “What…uh, thanks, Coach. How…how did you get up here?”

Several students around them had paused to watch the impossible feat, then shrugged and continued on their way. Twilight stared. There was no way that was normal. Even he couldn’t move that fast. But the rest of the kids’ nonchalant behavior suggested that it was indeed a normal sight. His earlier sense that there was something more to this woman returned full force. 

Before he could think too long on it, Yuri snapped his fingers right in front of his face. “Hey! You’re staring again. Quit it.”

Twilight almost rolled his eyes and shoved the annoying teenager out of the way, but refrained. He did not want to rack up three Tonitrus bolts on his first day. Instead, he put on his best practiced smile, which he already knew would piss Yuri off even more.

“Your sister–”

“You will address her as Coach Briar!”

“Coach Briar is really something else. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast!” he said with measured admiration. 

“Of course, she’s the most amazing person in the world! Now stop looking at her and trying to impress her. Don’t think I don’t know. I’ve had to set every male classmate straight about showing proper respect to my dear sister, and I will not hesitate to slap you with detention!”

Twilight raised his hands in mock surrender and backed away, catching the eye of a couple of other students passing by who made the ‘he’s crazy’ gesture behind Yuri’s back. Well, he’d be damned. His first moment of genuine connection with a student who wasn’t Franky, and it was due to everyone’s mutual dislike for the Student Council Vice President.

For the rest of gym, they did aerobics outdoors on the grass, with upbeat workout music blasting out of the speakers beside the bleachers. Sore and drained from the warmups, most of the class only made a halfhearted effort to follow the teacher’s brisk movements in time with the beat. Of course, Yuri made it his personal mission to bark at the students in his vicinity whenever they slacked off too much. 

The fact Yuri’s attention was focused on the slackers granted Twilight a short reprieve to study Coach Briar further. She didn’t break into any more outrageous feats of athleticism, but she clearly moved with the effortless confidence of someone who had trained ruthlessly their entire life. Trained for what, he wasn’t sure. The Olympics, perhaps? Was she a former Olympic sprinter or gymnast? Maybe that was why the school had hired her.

In the last five minutes, when everyone was dying to run off to lunch, Coach Briar made several announcements, mostly about various team practices after school. Her last announcement piqued Twilight’s attention. 

“We are also in need of more mentors for the All-Stars Buddy Program! Please come speak to me after class if you would like to sign up! Have a great rest of the day, everyone!”

WISE’s intel had said Demetrius was part of this program. As all the other students scattered for the locker rooms, Twilight made his way to Coach Briar to put his name in.

—

It was make-or-break time. 

Lunch period.

Even freshly showered and blending in fairly well, Franky felt a deep-seated nervousness rise from the pit of his stomach with every step he took toward the cafeteria. Memories he hadn’t revisited in more than a decade suddenly jumped to the forefront of his mind. 

His first year at a new school. Standing there awkwardly with a tray, looking around at the mostly full tables without a clue where to sit. The decision would cement how the rest of the year went. Maybe even the next four years. And to pile on even more pressure, he couldn’t stand there like an idiot for too long, or the other kids would notice and label him a loser, and his options would start to narrow down alarmingly fast.

Franky shoved aside the primal fears of his adolescence. He was a grown man now. He’d fought in the war, for fuck’s sake. And he’d been selected for the highly competitive Homeland program at WISE. What did these teenagers have on him?

He and Twilight had agreed to buy lunch on the first day, expensive as it was, just to get the lay of the land. They might have to infiltrate the kitchen at some point. Though infiltrations were the last thing on his mind as the two of them waited in line for the register. 

Twilight was slowly getting the hang of being a teenager. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched a bit like he’d seen the other boys do. Still, he looked way too serious, as he made meaningless conversation about his honors classes with Franky while surreptitiously scanning the cafeteria for their target. 

“Bro, I don’t care about whatever Frigian novel you have to read for your fancy Literature class,” Franky cut him off at some point. Twilight narrowed his eyes as if personally offended. He lowered his voice a bit. “Where are we gonna sit?”

“Anywhere,” Twilight answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, not anywhere,” Franky emphasized as the line inched closer to the register. “This is the most dog-eat-dog part of high school. Where you sit determines your standing for the rest of the year. Whether you’re in with the cool kids or you’re a total loser.”

“Really,” Twilight said in that deadpan, unimpressed tone Franky had gotten quite used to. “I seem to recall you failed to identify any of your backwater school archetypes this morning on the lawn.”

“No, I’m serious. Every school has a pecking order, and the clearest place to see it is in the cafeteria. Here, turn around, I’ll run down the basics.” 

Franky surveyed the rows of tables, already half-filled with students. He frowned. The fact they were all wearing the same uniforms made it hard to prove his point. He studied the students’ hair and accessories instead. While those details were marginally helpful to sort out the girls, it was still rather difficult with the boys. 

“Those are the jocks,” he indicated with his chin. They were the easiest to identify—tall, muscular, moved like they personally owned the space around them, probably jackasses. Sort of like Twilight when Franky had met him during the war.

“Uh-huh.”

“And those…those are the nerds.” He noticed a high concentration of boys wearing glasses in a far corner of the cafeteria. They seemed to be exchanging cards of some sort across the table.

“Uh-huh.”

“Those are the Imperial Scholars. Obviously. And…” Franky struggled to distinguish any other social groups. Everyone else just looked rich.

“Those are the heirs to the infrastructure and oil conglomerates,” Twilight took over seamlessly. “Those are the landed aristocrats, centuries-old wealth. Those are the show biz kids, mostly children of famous actors and film executives. And…there’s our target.”

Demetrius Desmond had just strolled in, flanked by two lackeys. While Franky had studied his picture as part of mission prep, the boy still cut a striking figure in person. His eyes really were disturbingly wide, like a lemur or an owl. He was quite tall, only a few centimeters shorter than Twilight, with a lean, angular frame under his Imperial Scholar cloak. His jet black hair was neatly combed and gelled, but still curled a bit at the ends, lending some softness to his serious demeanor. 

The other students automatically moved out of Demetrius’ way and gave him a wide berth. All the while he barely paid anyone any attention, beelining for a mostly empty table in the back. The few students already sitting there also wore Imperial Scholar cloaks. A waiter appeared seconds later to take Demetrius’ order, a privilege that Franky hadn’t seen any other students use.

“So what’s the game plan?” Franky whispered as they placed their orders and waited. He tried not to make it obvious that he was keeping an eye on their target’s table.

“We wait and observe. Take a table nearby, but not too close.”

Franky eyed the tables adjacent to where Demetrius was sitting. The ‘show biz’ table occupied by glamorously made up girls and good-looking boys trying to impress them. And a harder-to-read table of kids with no distinguishing markers of identity or affiliation. They merely looked…bored. Bored, but almost in a self-conscious way. Several of them kept sneaking glances at Demetrius and his friends. Were they an overflow table of some sort for Demetrius’ admirers?

Twilight noticed that table as well, and as soon as they got their food, they walked over, Franky following his ‘brother’s’ lead. 

Franky’s reawakened high school instincts tingled in warning as they drew closer. Some of the kids at the unidentifiable table watched them approach with expressions of half-amusement, half-judgment. The unspoken social signal that they were about to commit a faux pas. Too late, Franky tried to tug at Twilight’s elbow, but the man was moving too fast. 

“Mind if we sit here?” Twilight asked.

Franky almost winced at the spy’s complete obliviousness to the subtly hostile environment he’d led them into. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be a master of infiltration and reading hidden intent? The intent here wasn’t even hidden.

It got worse. The surrounding tables quieted as other students noticed the two new kids blindly walking the plank toward social suicide. Twilight had to have noticed by now, but to his credit he didn’t falter, the pleasant smile still plastered on his face.

The biggest boy at the table, probably the same height as Twilight if he were to stand to his feet, looked at them both as if sizing them up. Franky braced himself for the imminent rejection. He could only hope that Eden kids were more polite in their delivery than the kids from his high school.

“What’re your names?” the boy said instead. It was going to be a roundabout rejection, then.

Franky could have heard a pin drop in the hush around them. He wondered if this was what it was like in the moments before a spy had their cover blown and had to fight for their life. Twilight surely knew. 

“I’m Loid. And this is my brother, Franky.”

Silence, as if the boy and his friends were waiting for more. 

Infrastructure. Oil. Aristocracy. Show biz.

They had to be waiting for Loid and Franky’s last name or affiliation. Whether they were from a prestigious family that might have something to offer. Franky saw the moment the students’ smiles turned openly disdainful as they realized they were just commoners.

“Welcome to Eden, Loid, Franky. Unfortunately this table’s full,” the boy said with a slight smirk, and turned back around to resume eating lunch. 

It was most definitely not full, but Twilight shrugged it off and turned to leave with his tray. Franky followed, trying not to duck his head in mortification. He was a former soldier and a spy! He was on a mission with WISE’s top agent! If only these teens knew who they were dealing with, they wouldn’t dare snicker and whisper about them.

As they passed by the show biz table, one of the girls reached out a dainty hand and tapped Twilight on the arm. He paused and looked down at her in slight confusion.

“Hey, Loid, is it?” The girl fluttered her long eyelashes at him. “I don’t mind if you sit here.”

“What the hell, Alicia?” a boy sitting across from her said indignantly. His friend beside him also tensed up and glared at Twilight.

Alicia rolled her eyes and flipped her golden locks over her shoulder, then shifted to make room on the bench with a suggestive wiggle of her hips. Franky bit back a laugh at the fact a seventeen year-old was trying to seduce the most prolific honey trap master at WISE. 

“That’s alright,” Twilight said with a wry glance at the jealous boy. “Looks like this table’s full too.”

“Yeah. Full of dicks,” Franky said under his breath.

Before they could walk on, a hand gripped Franky’s elbow. “Hey, midget. What’d you say?”

Twilight turned around automatically as Franky came face to face with the accusing stare of another teenage boy. This one had been sitting right next to the Alicia girl. 

Franky knew Twilight well enough by now to read his expression. Beneath the veneer of brotherly concern was that familiar incensed glare over the fact Franky had caused yet another mess for him to clean up. It was the kind of look that always made Franky want to push his buttons a little more just to see how far he could go.

“I said, wherever shall we sit?” Franky said innocently.

“That’s not what you said.”

“Is so.”

“Say it again. To our faces.”

Alicia and the other girls at the table shrank back in instinctive alarm and breathless excitement at the sign of an imminent fight. Out of the corner of his eye Franky caught Twilight making a pointed hand signal at his side, three fingers extended straight. That was right. Three Tonitrus bolts if fists started flying.

“I said, I can’t wait to try these breadsticks.” 

Franky couldn’t help the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face as he felt the change in the atmosphere around them. Where everyone had been looking at them in thinly veiled condescension before, now they were bemused and in awe of the new kid’s boldness. The inflection point Franky needed to turn the tide. He’d forgotten that this was the part of high school he’d actually enjoyed. 

“Cut the crap, man, say it!”

“Wanna go outside for a picnic?”

The boy growled and yanked Franky close by the shirt.

“You insulted us.”

“I’m sure you just misheard,” Twilight chose that moment to step in. He’d set down his tray and raised his hands apologetically. “My brother–”

“Stay out of this!”

“Hey, look, you got me,” Franky said in a conciliatory tone. “I said, we should watch ourselves, or else we’ll get hit with Tonitrus.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” a soft, authoritative voice spoke from behind them. 

Immediately the boy let go of Franky’s shirt and sat back down. A new type of quiet settled over the surrounding tables, the subdued silence of a pack of animals deferring to their leader. At some point during the confrontation, Demetrius Desmond and his lackeys had gotten up and approached them.

Franky fought not to flinch at the owlish stare boring into him as if trying to see past his skull into his secrets. Behind him, Twilight tensed, too.

“You’re pretty funny,” Demetrius said in that same low, placid tone. Then he smiled, which made him look even creepier. “I like people who aren’t afraid to speak their minds.”

He turned and gestured at the first table they had tried to join. The effect was instant. The kids shuffled further down the bench so there was plenty of room for Loid and Franky.

“You and your brother can sit there. Have a nice lunch,” Demetrius said, and went back to his seat without another word.

Slowly, the noise of normal conversation filtered back into the air as Franky and Loid slid into their new seats with their half-cold lunches. The other kids at the table didn’t look at them, including the one who’d initially turned them down, but whether it was out of newfound respect or resentment, Franky couldn’t tell. He still didn’t even know what tied this particular group of kids together.

Sitting across from him, Twilight gripped his utensils tightly as he cut into his steak and asparagus. Franky shelved his confused speculation and smirked at his ‘brother.’

Not only had he managed to touch the hot gym teacher first. He’d also made first contact with the target. Franky 2, Twilight 0.

Chapter Text

Franky knew it was rude to gloat, but he let himself ride the high just a little bit. After all, Mr. Super Secret Agent Twilight had had no problem holding himself over him before the mission even started. And now, here he was, rookie of the year, already getting into Demetrius’s good graces. Well, he’d only called him funny, but it was something. And something was more than nothing, which was what Twilight had.

Franky’s confidence must’ve been obvious because while they walked to their next shared class after lunch, Twilight elbowed him lightly.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he whispered. “We can’t get ahead of ourselves.”

Franky snorted ever so slightly. “Are you just mad that Demetrius likes me and not you?”

“No, I think it’s a good confidence boost for you. You needed a win.”

His slightly demeaning tone wasn’t lost on Franky.

“Well, I think if there’s anyone who needs a win, it’s you,” he laughed. “Maybe you’ll get one. Demetrius is in our next class.”

“That he is.”

This class period they had environmental science and thus the classroom was a large lab with state-of-the-art equipment that would rival most professional laboratories. Instead of the usual array of desks, the room held several rows of lab station counters. When they arrived, they found that Demetrius and his lackeys had already claimed a station near the back of the classroom. Before Franky or Twilight could even choose a spot to sit, Demetrius called across the room.

“Hey, you.” He was looking straight at Franky with his huge owl eyes. “Breadstick kid. Come here.”

With an unsure glance at Twilight, Franky hesitantly approached Demetrius’s station. He leaned ever so slightly on the cool counter surface.

“Heya, nice to see you again,” Franky said as casually as he could manage. “Thanks for smoothing things over during lunch. That was cool of you to do.”

“Ah, no problem at all,” Demetrius replied with a light laugh that didn’t sound real and a wave of his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Frank Forger. But all my friends call me Franky.”

Demetrius raised a thin eyebrow. “And what do I call you?”

Franky could feel Twilight burning a hole in his back with a glare. Franky was sure he’d somehow managed to already screw up at least five of Twilight’s spy rules already, but he tried to ignore his stare.

“Franky’s fine with me,” he said with a shrug. “I like making new friends.”

Demetrius observed him for a second longer before a small smile formed on his lips.

“Good to know. I’m Demetrius Desmond,” he said, “You should sit with us during class today.”

As discreetly as he could, Franky shot a glance over to Twilight who was still watching them, undoubtedly eavesdropping on their conversation. His expression was muted but definitely surprised.

“I’ll take you up on that, Demetrius!” Franky said with a slightly too loud laugh. “As you saw last hour, finding a spot to sit can be difficult for me.”

Demetrius politely laughed along as he and his lackeys made room for him at the table.

“I look forward to getting to know you better,” Demetrius smiled, “Franky.”

—

Twilight knew he’d be lying if he said wasn’t frustrated. Yes, it was incredibly lucky that Franky had already (somewhat) befriended Demetrius and the first day wasn’t even over. However, Franky’s methods were messy and unrefined—he didn’t even have methods—and yet he had already pulled ahead.

Not that this was a competition or anything.

During environmental science, he tried to keep one eye and ear on Demetrius and Franky, but hadn’t been very successful. Truthfully, there were very few instances during class for students to converse with one another. But when there was, he’d desperately tried to eavesdrop on Demetrius without much luck. And, to make things worse, when the bell rang for next period Franky had left with Demetrius and his lackeys so Twilight couldn’t even ask what they’d talked about. 

Twilight attempted to convince himself all would be well as the last bell of the day rang. He had an in.

According to his intel, Demetrius was a part of the All-Stars Buddy Program, a program put on by Eden to pair younger and older students together during after-school events to foster mentorship among the student population. Truth be told, Twilight hadn’t exactly anticipated Demetrius to be the type of person to deeply care about the wellbeing of the younger students, but so far many of his assumptions about high school had been incorrect. Not that he would ever admit as much to Franky.

The program was also headed by Coach Briar who piqued his interest—due to her unusual strength, of course. Surely she had some sort of military training and yet none of his research had revealed that. He needed to know more. 

As he pushed the doors open to the classroom where the first All-Stars Buddy Program meeting was being held, he made a plan of attack in his mind. First, he’d approach Demetrius and mention he was Franky’s brother.

“I hope he isn’t being a bother to you,” he would say with a sheepish smile. “He can be quite the handful.”

Demetrius would laugh and assure him he wasn’t (or better yet, admit he sort of was).

Next, he would strike up a conversation about the classes they’d shared today. Then, he’d steer the conversation towards the subject of this weekend.

“I’ll admit I’m a bit worried about environmental science,” Twilight would mutter with a rub to the back of his neck—a nervous habit of Loid Forger. “Do you know if anyone is planning on having a study group over the weekend?”

If Demetrius mentioned he was, Twilight would suavely invite himself to it, or at least express interest in joining. If he wasn’t, then Twilight would suggest they hold one this Saturday at the Eden library.

He would arrive an hour early to secure the best study table by the front windows. He would bring bergamot tea, a favorite of the Desmonds. He would have all of the books needed to study already picked out. He would do everything he needed to get Demetrius’ favor.

The only issue was that Demetrius was nowhere to be seen. At first Twilight thought maybe he got the wrong room. The mentorship program included both under and upperclassmen and yet the classroom was filled with mostly children, from about six to ten years old, talking and playing with one another. Because they were Eden students there was some semblance of order and things hadn’t gotten out of hand yet, but it was still somewhat overwhelming. 

Twilight frowned and double checked the room number. It was supposed to be the right room. He did another sweep of the classroom. There were a few upperclassmen—all girls—but no staff were present. A commotion near the back of the room caught his attention.

A boy and a girl, both on the younger end, were arguing. Well, more like the boy was yelling at the girl.

“—and you’re stupid and a commoner!” the boy shouted. “You don’t even have the decency of looking normal! You’re the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen!”

“I’m not—” the little girl was desperately holding back tears, “I’m not ugly! Or stupid! I was just asking if you could help me with my homework!”

“As if I would ever talk to a commoner like you!”

Wow that kid is an asshole.

Twilight considered himself to be above belittling children—he was fighting for a world where children could live in peace after all—but he had never seen a child who had so quickly made himself so unlikeable. Still, it would be best if he didn’t intervene. He needed to talk to Demetrius who he hadn't been able to find yet. Sure, he felt sorry for the little girl but his mission came first—

“I hope you get sold to the west where they eat ugly kids like you,” the boy spat.

—or not. Twilight was behind the boy in an instant, placing a heavy hand on his little shoulder.

“That’s hardly proper language becoming of an Eden student, young man,” he said with a tight smile. “It wouldn’t be right to say such disparaging things about a fellow student.”

The boy turned to look up at Twilight. His dark wavy hair brushed ever so slightly into his large eyes. He looked familiar. The boy shrugged off his hand.

“Huh? Who’re you?” he asked, the venom still dripping in his voice.

“A concerned student, that’s all,” Twilight replied. “Now, apologize to her.”

“You’re a student? You look old enough to be my dad.”

Twilight flinched. “That’s no way to talk to an upperclassman.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

You are fighting for world peace, Agent Twilight, a world where children don’t cry. So do not strangle this rude child right now. Don’t forget your mission.

Twilight ignored the comment and turned to the little girl. She stared up at him with large green eyes.

“Are you okay?” he gently asked. The girl’s eyes grew wider and nearly sparkled.

“Bondman!” she squealed before launching herself into his arms. Twilight was nearly knocked over by the force of her enthusiastic hug. He put his arms around her to prevent her from falling.

“What? Bondman?”

“From Spy Wars!” she exclaimed as she nuzzled further into his embrace, fluffy pink hair brushing against his neck. Spy Wars? The words sounded familiar to Twilight. He reached into his memory, searching for where he’d heard them. Then he remembered; during his research into what was popular among children, he recalled hearing about a television show that followed the pursuits of a cartoon spy. He had seen Spy Wars themed cereals and action figures at the grocery store. He had determined the age demographic of the show to be too young to be of any use for getting close to Demetrius and thus hadn’t investigated it further. For a country so determined to root out all anti-establishment conspirators, he admitted it was a little strange for their most popular television character to be a spy.

However, now this little girl thought he was a spy. Which, while humorous, could be a problem, even if the spy in question was fictional. All it took was for the seed of an idea to germinate in someone’s mind to reveal the truth.

“I’m not Bondman, sorry,” he laughed as he patted the girl’s head. He glanced back at the boy who glared at the both of them and then added, “But I’ll bet Bondman says he’s sorry when he’s mean to his friends.”

“I don’t watch shows meant for kids,” the boy snapped, “and she’s not my friend.”

Before Twilight could lecture him any further, the boy turned on his heels and stormed away in a huff. Twilight sighed and looked down to the girl still clinging to him. He gently lowered her to the ground but found she wouldn’t let go of him.

“Little girl, I need you to let go of me,” he said. She only clutched onto him even harder, small fingers grasping the fabric of his uniform.

“My name is Anya,” she muttered into his chest.

“I need you to let go of me, Anya.”

“Mm-mm.”

“Anya,” he said sternly, “please let go of me.”

Her grip loosened but he felt the unmistakable warmth of tears against his chest. She began to sniff and tremble under his hold. He sighed again.

“Or don’t. That’s fine, I suppose.”

With a little girl clinging to him koala-style, he did one final sweep of the classroom to once again find that Demetrius was nowhere to be found. As he did, he caught the curious stares of several students watching him and the little girl fastened onto his chest. Based on the snippets he was able to catch onto, the girl was often excluded from her peers and was usually bullied. The little brat had called her a commoner, which would explain a lot. Eden did accept a few students who were not the children of the upper class of society, he and Franky included, but the social hierarchy in the academy was strict and unforgiving. For this precise reason Loid had avoided talking about his family’s claim to wealth, or rather lack of one, to avoid being the target of elite bullies. However, this girl had not been so lucky.

Just as Twilight was about to give up on the mentorship program, the door swung open to reveal a slightly disheveled Coach Briar. She was in such a hurry she almost ran into Twilight.

“Ah, Loid!” she exclaimed with a blush. “I’m so glad you were able to make it! We always need more mentor volunteers!”

“Oh, of course, Coach Briar,” Twilight said with a pleasant smile, trying to hide the fact that he had just planned to leave. “Ever since I was a boy, I looked to older students for help. It’s only right that I pay it forward.”

“That’s very noble of you.” Coach Briar leaned down to Anya, who Twilight had somehow forgotten was clinging to his chest. “It looks like you’ve already made a new friend.”

Anya watched her with wide eyes and then back to Twilight. She was thinking hard about something.

Twilight chuckled. “She’s taken a liking to me for some reason.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to put you together in the same  group, then,” Coach Briar said with another one of her blinding smiles. “Thank you again, Loid. I really do mean it.”

He smiled as she walked away to prepare for the meeting. Anya settled deeper into his arms.

“I like that lady,” she mumbled.

“Hm? Oh, I do, too, Anya.”

“I know.”

He patted her head again because she seemed to like it and then paused.

“Wait, what did she mean by put us in the same group?” he asked. Anya shrugged.

The All-Stars Buddy Program was supposed to pair two students together—one older and one younger—so the two could bond over a variety of activities: studying, games, events, and so on. However, it became apparent that the number of children greatly outnumbered the amount of volunteers. So, to remedy this, Coach Briar assigned two younger students to every volunteer. That alone was fine, Twilight supposed, but he had an issue with the students he was assigned. Well, one of them.

Twilight sat on a couch in one of Eden’s study lounges as Anya clung to his arm. She stared at the third student who had joined them.

“Quit looking at me like that,” the boy with the dark hair and big eyes growled. Anya tightened her hold.

“Come on, now, let’s just get along,” Twilight said as calmly as he could. He felt his stomach tighten with anxiety. Surely Coach Briar had sensed that this boy and girl didn’t get along when she had assigned them to him?

Well, on second thought, Coach Briar didn’t seem to be all there much of the time.

“Why don’t we introduce ourselves?” Twilight suggested politely. “My name is Loid Forger. What about you?” He nudged Anya a bit with his arm.

“You already know my name, Bondman.”

“And you know my name is Loid, not Bondman. Introduce yourself, Anya.”

“My name is Anya,” she muttered shyly into his sleeve. The boy rolled his eyes.

“Anya…?” Twilight gently prodded.

“Anya… Rush?” the girl mumbled with some confusion. “Roche? Lesky? Lewsky?”

“She’s a part of that stupid welfare program where they admit kids from the foster system,” the boy snapped. “She doesn’t even have a family name. Not a real one, anyway.”

Anya shriveled with shame at the boy’s harsh tone. Twilight dropped his polite persona and openly glared at the boy.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said. “You’re very lucky to be in a school that accepts students from all walks of life.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Twilight bit his lip to keep from yelling. “Anyway,” he tried to return to being the kind, patient upperclassman, “that leaves you. What’s your name, young man?”

“You don’t know?” the boy asked, nose upturned. Twilight reveled in his annoyance.

“No, please enlighten me.”

The boy folded his arms with great self-importance. “I’m Damian Desmond. Maybe now you’ve heard of me.”

All in a split second, a thousand thoughts rushed through Twilight’s mind. That was why the boy looked so familiar. Due to Damian’s younger age, WISE hadn’t accounted for him being of much use to Operation Strix. It would be hard enough for an upperclassman to get so close to a younger student in the first place, all for likely minimal returns. Besides, WISE policy urged agents to avoid involving young children when possible. Because of this, Twilight had done little research on Damian and instead focused his efforts on Demetrius. 

The pieces began to fall into place—he recalled seeing the Desmond name under the list of students signed up for the mentorship program and had assumed it was Demetrius. However, it was now apparent that Damian was the one participating in the program. This whole mess had been due to Twilight’s carelessness. He berated himself for not double checking sooner. If he had, then he wouldn’t be stuck mentoring this brat.

Damian stared at him, awaiting his reaction. Twilight considered the best course of action. He could try to befriend Damian somehow, but if the way things had gone so far were any indication of how open Damian was to making friends, the chances were slim. Instead, in a rare instance of Twilight putting his own desires ahead of the mission, he shrugged.

“Can’t say I have,” he said simply. 

Damian looked aghast.

“M—My dad is the former prime minister, Donovan Desmond!” he stammered. “He’s the chairman of the National Unity Party!”

Twilight tilted his head in mock consideration. “I think I’ve heard of him,” he said thoughtfully, “But I’ve certainly never heard of you.”

Anya giggled into his arm. Damian’s face grew red with anger. Twilight tried not to smile.

“W–Whatever!” Damian sputtered. “At least I have a family! That’s more than what Uggo here has.”

“Dumdum Desmond,” Anya mumbled.

“What did you call me, you peasant?!”

“What you are.”

“Okay, that’s enough from both of you,” Twilight put a gentle hand on Anya’s head. “Why don’t we try to get to know each other so we can have a good school year together?”

Neither of the children seemed particularly willing to participate. Twilight sighed. Over his storied career, he’d negotiated with terrorists and kidnappers, yet this somehow seemed so much more difficult.

—

Twilight watched the bus turn the corner and disappear into the dying daylight. His body ached as if he’d been in an extended sparring match all afternoon. Instead, he’d just spent the past hour and a half desperately trying to keep two six year-olds from beating each other up. As soon as the program was over, Damian had nearly sprinted to the dorms, happy to be free from the presence of a “disgusting commoner.” Anya had refused to unwrap herself from Twilight while she waited for her after-school bus to take her home, so he’d waited with her. While they sat together, she’d recounted the entirety of Spy Wars, or at least her version of the plot. Getting her to actually let go of him so she’d go on the bus had been a challenge. He’d had to sternly tell her that she wouldn’t be able to watch Spy Wars until she went home and that had been enough to convince her. As the bus pulled away, she’d incessantly waved to him out the window until he was out of sight.

What a handful.

A slight movement behind Twilight jolted him back to the present. He turned to see Coach Briar also watching the bus leave with some large boxes in arms. Their eyes met and she jumped back.

“S–Sorry, I was just, um, moving some supplies to a different building,” she quickly explained. Twilight laughed to alleviate her discomfort.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he chuckled. “Do you need any help?”

Coach Briar hesitated before smiling shyly. “That would be lovely.”

The boxes were surprisingly heavy. Twilight had no idea how Coach Briar had been hefting around several of them without any issue. They walked through the mostly empty campus as the sunset painted the buildings shades of orange and pink.

“Are you the only faculty member running the mentorship program?” he asked. Coach Briar sighed.

“I am. None of the other staff seemed particularly interested in it, so I’m taking care of it by myself,” she said before quickly adding, “N–Not that I’m complaining! I love seeing students get to know each other and form lasting friendships. That alone makes all the work worth it.”

“That’s very admirable of you, Coach Briar,” Twilight replied. “I appreciate it when my teachers are passionate about their work and I can clearly see you are, too.”

As expected, the compliment caused her to break out into a wide smile as a blush spread across her face. Based on her reaction, Twilight suspected that she wasn’t often thanked for her hard work. That was a shame.

“You’re too kind. I know that Damian can be a…difficult student,” she said, “but I appreciate how patient you were with him and Anya today. You’re a natural with children.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

“You are! He’s rejected most of his mentors in the past. I think it’s a sign of how good of a mentor you are. You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Loid.”

Twilight conceded with a nod. “Ah, well, if you insist.”

“I do!” 

They both laughed.

They reached a faculty building where they parted ways with a polite farewell. With sore arms, Twilight made his way back to the front of the academy where Franky would be to go home together. He already dreaded having to admit his mistake about the mentorship program, but maybe he could figure out an in with Damian Desmond. Well, if he could get the brat to stop arguing with him, that is.

On paper, the day had been very unproductive for Agent Twilight. He hadn’t made much contact with the target, nearly made a fool of himself at lunch, and had made a mistake in joining the mentorship program. And yet, while he walked through the empty campus, he felt perfectly content. 

Chapter Text

Franky had forgotten just how tiring a full day of school could be, even with his so-called ‘slacker’ schedule. Being surrounded by dozens of teens at all times, having to sit up straight and listen attentively to lectures, switching context every fifty minutes or so as he moved from class to class…he was starting to feel his age. Not to mention the abnormally strenuous gym class. It was almost as bad as Twilight’s training regimen at WISE.

When he got home to 128 Park Avenue, he wanted nothing more than to collapse in his bed and turn on the radio to his favorite talk show. But of course, Twilight dragged him to the dining table with him and Norman. 

“Work’s not over. Don’t lose yourself in your slacker persona,” the seasoned spy warned. “We need to review our findings and determine our strategy for the rest of the week.”

Franky groaned and put his head in his hands. His stomach grumbled loudly, and he remembered he hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch. Norman chuckled and went to the kitchen to retrieve some snacks, making an offhand remark about growing boys and their voracious appetites.

Pointedly ignoring his complaints, Twilight opened a spiral notebook and drew a line down the middle of the page. At the top of one side, he wrote Loid, and on the other, Franky.

“What is this, a scoreboard?”

“No, it’s to list out and compare our observations, class by class. Sit up straight and take this seriously. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can get to our homework.”

Franky groaned again. That was right. They had homework for almost every single class, and it would probably take hours to finish. Eden College was no joke.

“Bus,” Twilight prompted.

“What about it?”

“Anything you noted during the bus ride to and from school?” he said, beginning to show some impatience.

“No.”

“It confirmed that we are at the bottom rung of the social strata at Eden. Or close to it. We will need to put in extra effort to prove ourselves to the upper crust, especially our target’s social circle.” Twilight jotted a quick note on the left side of the page. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Norman came back to the table with a platter of chips, cheese, and crackers. He tapped Franky on the back and pushed his chair closer to the table so he was forced to straighten up. Franky was once again surprised at how fit the old man was. 

“Son, listen to your brother. He knows what he’s doing,” came the first serious reprimand from the senior agent. It was the first time Franky had seen the ‘I’m not fucking around’ look on Stratus’ face, and he quickly nodded and obeyed.

“Principles of government,” Twilight said next.

Franky thought back to the first class of the day, which they’d shared. 

“It was…really anti-West?” he offered.

“Yes. The class is effectively a tool of indoctrination by the state, with the aim of cultivating patriotism among its best and brightest. Most students at this age see through it and don’t truly believe most of the propaganda, but will go along with the official line in order to remain in good standing.”

“Are there any chances for Stellas in that class?” Franky asked, genuinely curious for once.

“Yes. A Stella is usually awarded to the student who delivers the most eloquent speech in the middle of the semester, concerning the Ostanian national spirit, the virtues of Ostanian socialism, or a similar topic.” Twilight looked contemplative. “Normally this would be child’s play, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to pursue a Stella here.”

“Why not?”

“Top performers in this class are shortlisted for recruitment by the SSS,” Twilight said wryly as he wrote more notes on the page. “Needless to say, we should avoid that.”

“Oh, in that case, that Yuri kid is going to be a surefire winner. The way he accosted those kids in the hall and kept threatening us with detention. Imagine him with real power,” Franky said with a shudder.

Twilight’s lips quirked in an ironic smile. That reminded Franky of something else.

“Moving on. Ton of noteworthy stuff in gym,” Franky said slyly.

“You skipped second period. I had literature, you had woodworking–”

Franky rolled his eyes. “Nothing interesting happened in either of those classes and you know it. Gym. I’ll go first. That warmup routine was insane, straight out of army boot camp. How is that even allowed in a civilian school?”

“It seemed reasonable to me. Eden pushes its students toward excellence in every arena–”

“Yeah, okay. Eden is also supposed to be super traditional and conservative, yet they hired a smoking hot chick as the PE teacher–”

“Coach Briar is a woman. Show some respect,” Twilight said, then added quickly, “Toward the faculty.”

Franky slapped the table and laughed loudly. Twilight’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Right, right. What if Yuri heard me? Probably worth three detentions.”

“Yuri presents a considerable threat to our cover. He already suspects us of being older than we claim. We need to figure out a way to neutralize him.”

“Whoa there, Handler said no violence or drugs on this mission,” Franky said, then waggled an eyebrow suggestively. “Or honey traps.”

Twilight made a dismissive sound. “No need to go to extremes for a kid like him. We already know his weakness. It’s his sister.”

Franky recalled the boy’s odd, instantaneous personality shifts from a snarling bulldog to an angelic puppy in front of Coach Briar. “What do you think we should do?”

“Easy. We get on Coach Briar’s good side. If she vouches for us, Yuri will have no choice but to accept us and move on.”

Franky had to fight to keep the smarmy smile from creeping onto his face. “And how do we do that?”

Somehow Twilight had not caught onto the juvenile trap he was walking into. “She runs the after-school mentorship program, and I’ve already signed up and gotten assigned two mentees in first grade. One of them is Damian Desmond, as a matter of fact.” 

The spy sounded rather proud of his achievement. Franky immediately stopped him from bragging under the veneer of explaining tactics. “Hey, you criticized me for skipping ahead. Tell us about the Desmond kid later. How else are we going to neutralize Yuri?”

The beginnings of suspicion flickered on Twilight’s face, but he conceded and went back to his original train of thought. “There are also several team sports in need of new players. I haven’t mapped out the opportunities and risks of each one yet, as I’ll need to observe the current team members in action and assess where the need for talent is greatest. Once I do that, I’ll choose a team to join and be on my way to a physical fitness Stella.”

Franky knew it was good for the mission that Twilight was so multi-talented, but part of him couldn’t help but feel annoyed and jealous of the spy’s extreme self-confidence. He was still rather bitter about the fact he was only here to ride on Twilight’s coattails and basically kill time with the ‘less ambitious students,’ as Handler had put it.

But he could worry about that later. Now, he had a self-appointed task to complete.

“Alright, so you carry the football team to nationals. What else?”

“Coach Briar is quite conscientious and works overtime without asking for help from other staff. I even saw her carrying heavy boxes across campus this afternoon. I’ll step in every now and then to take some of the load off her shoulders.”

“Uh-huh, every now and then, sure. Anything else?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed as he finally caught on. “Let me make this clear, rookie. I’m doing all of this for the mission.”

Franky stopped holding back his shit-eating grin. “Yeah, of course you are.”

Norman had been quietly listening until now, but let out a soft, knowing laugh. “Loid, my boy, it’s completely normal at your age to have a crush on a pretty teacher. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just don’t let it get out of hand, you don’t want to get her in trouble.”

“Dad,” Twilight said pointedly. “Need I remind you that I’m twenty seven years old, and I’m the agency’s go-to operative for honey traps? I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, but here you need to know what you’re not doing,” Norman said. “Totally different ballgame.”

“Write that in your notebook. Conduct a non-honey trap on Yor Briar,” Franky pressed. Norman laughed and slapped him on the back.

Twilight looked like he wanted to kick Franky’s chair out from under him, but perhaps out of respect for their ‘father,’ he restrained himself.

“We are wasting way too much time on this trivial subject,” he said brusquely. “We still have five periods to review.”

“By all means, go ahead,” Norman said, and managed to look serious again. He nudged Franky to do the same.

“Lunch,” Twilight said, donning his unruffled, professional demeanor like a well-worn mask. “You did well, Franky. You managed to get the attention and favor of our target even though you walked in without a plan and nearly caused an outbreak of violence.”

Of course Twilight would ensure the criticism outshone the praise. “Oh come on, man, you were the one who led us in there without a plan to begin with! I salvaged it and even turned our fortunes around when our backs were against the wall.”

Twilight frowned as if about to argue, but seemed to decide against it. “You did perform admirably in spite of the circumstances. I’ll be more circumspect and communicate my plan of attack to you in advance next time. You’ll need to be careful as well. Not every mad gamble is going to play out so well.”

Franky huffed. Couldn’t the man just let him have a clean win? “Fine.”

“Our standing at our current lunch table is still on shaky ground. We were only welcome to sit there because of Demetrius’ interference. It’ll be an uphill battle to gain the trust and regard of the other students there,” Twilight said.

“Eh, if we stay on Demetrius’ good side, those kids’ll fall into line and maybe even look up to us. We shouldn’t bend over backwards to appease the acolytes.”

“That is possible. But at the moment, we don’t even know what knits that table together in terms of group identity.”

“Oh, actually, I think I have a hypothesis. I saw some of those same kids later in the day and overheard them talking. One of them, Benjamin, is getting ready for some sort of trial. The Gauntlet, they called it.”

Twilight looked intrigued. “Some kind of secret society induction ritual?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Old schools like Eden usually have a few underground clubs and weird traditions, right?”

“Perhaps Demetrius is involved,” Twilight mused, and scratched more notes onto the page. Franky noted with some pride that he was writing under the right side column now, giving Franky credit for the insight. “Maybe he’s a judge or gatekeeper. That might explain why those kids have a table so close to him, but aren’t actually seated at his table proper.”

“I’ll keep an ear out for more rumors. Good thing I’m already blending in well. The kids don’t feel like they need to censor themselves around me,” Franky added just to see how Twilight would react.

Twilight merely nodded and continued writing, but Franky could tell that he was merely dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s instead of composing anything of substance. A classic move to conceal a disgruntled mood.

“Environmental science,” Twilight moved on. 

“Well, Demetrius invited me to sit with him and his friends, as you saw. He didn’t talk much, but I found out the names of those two guys who always follow him around. Edward and Elliott. They’re the typical bodyguard slash yes-men that super rich people keep around, I guess.”

“We should look into their backgrounds. There are a couple of Edwards in our grade. One of them is the son of an airline CEO. The other is the son of the Central Bank chairman. Both could be strategically valuable connections.”

“Sure. You seem to have Edward covered. So I’ll find out more about Elliott.”

“Alright. Next, I had macroeconomics. A straightforward opportunity for a Stella, but I have to wait until final exams. What about you? How was band?” Twilight asked.

“Well…” Franky hesitated. He mentally braced himself for more criticism. 

“Did you get assigned an instrument, even though you don’t know how to play anything?” Twilight said, his gaze sharpening in accusation.

“Well, you see…uh…I’d been planning to sign up for piano, but turns out they don’t have that instrument,” Franky said sheepishly.

Twilight groaned and rubbed his temples. “Even if a high school band did have piano for some reason, that’s a difficult instrument to play well!”

“What? How hard could it be? You just press keys with your fingers instead of having to blow air and press keys at the same time.”

Twilight and Stratus both looked at him with incredible skepticism. “Franky, do you know anything about music? Do you even know how to read music?”

Franky shrank back into his seat and shook his head.

For the first time, Twilight appeared mildly panicked. He turned to their ‘father.’ “Any chance we can swap out band for another class at this point? Can Handler do anything?”

Norman raised his hands palm-up in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know any more than you do about how she arranged the schedules.”

Twilight turned back to Franky with narrowed eyes. “What exactly did you submit in your background check that convinced Handler you had an ounce of musical talent?”

“I said I was in a band in high school,” he mumbled. “Might have left out the ‘a’ though.”

“What? ‘A’ band? What does that even mean?”

“...It was me and a couple friends jamming in the basement. They played guitar and keyboard, I sang. Or tried to.”

“Oh my God,” Twilight sighed in deep exasperation. “Alright, here’s the game plan for tonight. We rush through the rest of this review. Then Dad teaches you the basics of how to read music while I do our homework. I will help you out this one time and do your homework for you. After dinner, we reconvene and see if you can pass as musically literate.”

—

After Twilight slammed the door to his room down the hall, Norman retrieved a few blank sheets of paper and sat down with Franky at the dining table once more. He drew an oval with a horizontal line through the center. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asked.

Franky squinted at the symbol. “Looks like Saturn to me.”

Norman laughed a bit but trailed off in a sigh, sounding just as resigned as Twilight had been.

“Alright. Alright, then. Basics it is. You know your way around math, don’t you? At least you’ll pick up the rhythm part of this quickly.”

—

“What’s this?”

“...A?”

“It’s a C. It’s below the staff.”

“This is making my nearsightedness worse.”

Norman crumpled up the sheet of paper and threw it with perfect aim into the garbage can. Then he drew another set of five lines, spaced apart twice as wide as before, and drew a gigantic quarter note—at least Franky thought it was a quarter note, or was it an eighth?—somewhere in the middle of the lines.

“What’s this?”

“...H?”

“There is no H, Franky.”

—

“No, you came in too early again,” Norman said, and stopped tapping the downbeats with his foot. 

Franky withdrew his hand from the table in frustration. He’d been using his fingers to tap the notes Norman had drawn for the past half hour, and hadn’t yet nailed a single pattern more complicated than four quarter notes in row. This was like trying to have a conversation in a foreign language when he didn’t know the alphabet yet.

“I can’t tell the difference between that squiggly thing and that other squiggly thing!”

“This is a quarter rest, and that’s an eighth rest,” Norman explained again.

“Why can’t they just include the number somewhere in the symbol so it’s obvious?”

“Because usually students spend more than a single day learning how to read music! Now try again.”

—

“How’s it going?” Twilight said when he emerged from his room to cook dinner.

Norman sighed. Franky had lost count of how many times he’d done that throughout the afternoon.

“I think our only option might be triangle at this point,” the older agent said grimly. “Is that taken?”

Twilight paused at the sink, his shoulders sagging. “Franky?”

“What’s triangle?”

—

Twilight’s formerly pristine, spotless bedroom was strewn with discarded paper by the time the veteran spy called it a night. It had taken until 2 AM, but Franky had finally learned to sight-read rhythms of medium complexity. Unfortunately, the maximum tempo he could handle was 70 bpm before he fell hopelessly behind and got lost. He also had no idea how to count in a 6/8 time signature, but Twilight vowed to cover it tomorrow.

Franky still didn’t know his way around the musical scale, and nearly curled up into a fetal position when he learned of the existence of sharps, flats, naturals, and key signatures. So, after learning about the different percussion instruments and how triangle fit in among them, Franky agreed that by hook or by crook, he needed to commandeer the triangle. Even if it meant muscling out the kid who currently played that instrument.

Exhausted, Franky flopped onto his back on Twilight’s bed, which was covered in wadded up makeshift sheet music. “How do you do it, man?”

Twilight glared at him as he began throwing away all the stray paper in the wastebasket. “Do what?”

“Cram for missions overnight. You’ve had to do this before, obviously. How long did it take you to learn how to read music?”

Twilight paused for a moment to remember. “Two hours, I think.”

“Figures. And how many instruments do you play?”

“One in each of the major categories.”

“And how many is that?”

“Four. Woodwind, brass, strings, percussion. That’s another basic fact you should know for band, by the way. Quiz. What category is Demetrius’ instrument?”

“Uh, he plays trumpet, so…woodwind?”

“Wrong. It’s brass. That category also includes trombone, French horn, tuba–”

“Ugh, but wind passes through it! More wind than other instruments, I’m sure! What the hell is a woodwind, then?”

Twilight plucked a textbook off the shelf and tossed it at Franky. Franky jerked his head aside just in time to avoid getting a broken nose.

“Read the section about musical instruments. Memorize it. If you get a Tonitrus because you can’t tell the difference between a clarinet and an oboe, I’ll put you through worse than what Coach Briar’s warmups felt like. I swear, if this juvenile scheduling mistake costs us the mission, I’m going to–”

“Okay, okay, I’ll memorize it. Don’t have a heart attack, you’re only supposed to be seventeen,” Franky said. He thought about teasing Twilight for bringing up Coach Briar again, but didn’t want the next textbook to actually hit him in the face.

Finished cleaning up, Twilight sank back into his desk chair and closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked much older than his real age. For the first time that night, Franky felt bad for him. He realized just how heavy of a burden the renowned spy had carried for the past decade or so, with barely a break in between missions. Given his expertise in everything from literature to music to science to sports, he probably spent any such breaks acquiring new skills and studying new areas of knowledge until he absolutely mastered them. 

Franky wondered if Twilight actually enjoyed anything as a hobby, or if he considered it all mere tools in his arsenal. From his utter inability to loosen up and take a joke, it was probably the latter. What a sad way to live. If that was what it took to climb to the top of the espionage world, Franky wanted no part of it.

Yet something told him that Twilight’s motivation wasn’t just to be the best for the sake of being the best. He remembered that the man hadn’t gone to high school. He might not have even gone to junior high or much of grade school, depending on how his family had been affected by the war. If he had even had a family.

“What?” Twilight said into the silence, eyes still closed.

Franky shook himself out of his trance and smiled to himself. “Nothing. I guess…I was just thinking about how hard you must work all the time. As much of a stick in the mud as you can be, you’re really amazing, bro. I’m glad I get to learn from you on this mission. I promise I’ll figure out this band shit somehow. I won’t drag you down.”

Twilight didn’t reply, but Franky thought he saw the ghost of a smile on his weary face. A real one.

Chapter Text

It had been years since Franky last went to high school. Despite that, he had many memories of that time—some bad, some embarrassing, but plenty of good ones, too. Even though he’d only just started his mission at Eden, he couldn’t help but become overwhelmed with nostalgia as the little quirks that came with being a student reminded him of his youth. He began to remember the smell of the leather seats in the school bus, the sound of textbooks flipping open, flicking away eraser shavings from his notebook…

…and the horrible sensation of time slowing down when the lectures started to drag. In the midst of Franky’s fond reminiscing, he was starting to remember exactly why he’d been such a slacker in high school. The actual academic part of school hadn’t been difficult. Had he put in effort, he could’ve easily been a top student. No, the difficult part of high school had been getting himself to care about it. Just as he’d advised Twilight earlier, Franky had been a poor student simply because he didn’t care about his classes, at least not as much as he cared about picking apart radios or hanging out with his buddies.

Even though Eden Academy was wildly different from his high school, he found that the boredom of long class lectures had followed him even into his adulthood. Even now he found his hands itching to do something—take apart his pen, fiddle with a loose thread on his uniform, trace the wood grains in his desk— anything to relieve the boredom. As bad as that was, Franky found a second, more deadly sensation creeping over him.

Sleepiness.

He could hide boredom just fine, but there was no way he could hide falling asleep at his desk. It was really all Twilight’s fault. He’d kept Franky up until the early hours of the morning with his lectures about little black dots and squiggles. That combined with the fact that nothing of note had happened on the bus ride or the walk to class (other than Yuri harassing them, but both Franky and Twilight had already grown accustomed to that), there was nothing to do except listen to the teacher drone on about the intricacies of the Ostanian legal system. And besides, Franky’s desk was situated in a beam of sunlight that fell on him like a warm blanket. He wondered whether he could catch a few moments of delicious sleep if he just took long, slow blinks.

A hard, unwelcome nudge to his ribs dismissed the idea. He turned to see Twilight glaring at him.

There are records of students receiving Tonitrus bolts for repeatedly falling asleep or becoming otherwise distracted during class, Twilight had told him during their mission prep. A good spy is always alert. Do not fall asleep.

Yes, those were the rules but Twilight had some audacity for being the exact reason he was so sleepy. He could either know how to read music or stay awake in class, but he couldn’t do both. He discreetly flicked Twilight in the ear when he turned his attention back to the teacher.

Twilight flinched but otherwise didn’t react. Instead, he kept his focus glued to the lecture, just like the good little student he was. Franky rolled his eyes. Twilight looked exactly as he always did; focused, determined, tense, like he was a bit constipated (although Franky would never say as much without risking Twilight’s wrath), not at all like he was tired. How did he manage to do this all the time? Franky felt another pang of sympathy for the veteran spy. If he was pulling all nighters as often as Twilight did, he figured he’d be a stick in the mud, too.

When the class dismissed, Twilight shot Franky another disapproving glare. Franky was getting tired of seeing him do that. The sympathy he’d held for his mentor a few minutes prior disappeared.

“I know your objective isn’t to become an Imperial Scholar, but we can’t have you racking up Tonitrus bolts for falling asleep in class,” Twilight chided.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Franky mumbled dismissively as he got up to leave, “It was just once, dude, calm down.”

“These things can easily become a habit if you’re not careful,” Twilight said as he followed him out of the classroom.

“Flirting with our gym teacher can become a habit, too, Loid.” Franky relished the way Twilight’s face screwed up ever so slightly in annoyance. He turned to leave for his next class. “Let’s both work on our bad habits!” he called over his shoulder.

Twilight only huffed and went off to his next class without another word.

—

Based on what Franky had told him beforehand, Twilight had anticipated high school being much different. He couldn’t be sure if it was because he was there with the goal of essentially committing espionage or because he was surrounded by the children of the most powerful families in Ostania that he found his experience so far at Eden Academy to be, well, strange. 

Everything seemed to be backwards. Franky threw such a big fit over trivial things like where to sit at lunch but seemed flippant on important things like staying awake in class. He apparently had to ‘not care’ about anything at all but also secretly be good at everything, from sports to tests. There was an entirely new codex of body language and slang he would need to decipher and learn to even have a chance of understanding the secret codes these teenagers were constantly sending each other. In short, he was frustrated and annoyed.

These were the emotions boiling in Twilight’s stomach as he stormed to his next class. On one hand, he was glad that he didn’t have the next class with his fake brother; he’d have a brief reprieve from Franky’s endless musings about his relationship with Coach Briar—one that he did not have. But on the other hand, the little fool was bound to screw something up without his constant supervision, like falling asleep in class or starting a fight. Franky had a strange way of getting on Twilight’s nerves no matter where he was.

Twilight’s irritation must’ve been clearly evident on his face because his assigned reading partner in his next class took note of his foul mood. They were supposed to be discussing the reading homework they had last night, but unbeknownst to Twilight, he was simply boring holes into the pages while she talked. He only noticed when she stopped her half-hearted summary of the reading.

“You there, Loid?” she asked. He glanced up from his book, realizing that he’d spaced out. It was careless of him; he needed to do better.

“Yes, sorry,” he apologized and straightened up in his chair, “where were we? Chapter two?”

His reading partner closed her book with a sigh and lazily leaned back in her chair, combing a hand through her short chestnut hair. “It doesn’t really matter,” she sighed, “I’m pretty sure Mr. Weaver is just having us talk to each other because he doesn’t want to teach.”

They both looked to the teacher in the question who was reclined in his seat at the front of the classroom.

“You didn’t hear this from me, but he shows up to work hungover half the time, that’s why there’re so many student discussions in his classes,” she whispered. “The headmaster wants to fire him but Weaver’s brother-in-law is a major donor for the Eden sports teams. If they fired him, they might lose a chunk of their funding.”

Twilight looked at her, completely bewildered.

“How do you know all of this?” he whispered back. She shrugged and laughed.

“I just know things,” she replied casually. “Like I said, you didn’t hear it from me.”

He thought for a moment. This girl could be a valuable source of information. “What’s your name again?” he asked. He couldn’t remember if they had ever been properly introduced. She gasped dramatically with an expression of mock hurt.

“You don’t even recognize me from the mentorship program yesterday?” she asked, a hand over her heart. “How rude.”

Twilight briefly recalled seeing her there at the after-school program. If he had had more time, then maybe he would have talked to her.

“I was busy ,” he said defensively. “Surely you remember that I was a bit preoccupied trying to stop those two children from fighting each other.”

She dropped her act and laughed again. “That’s true. Everyone was hoping that they didn’t get the Desmond kid. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I managed. Barely,” he mumbled. The girl leaned forward on her desk with interest.

“Speaking of Desmonds,” she said smoothly, “I noticed you and your brother were sitting with the shortlist yesterday at lunch. That’s pretty impressive considering you guys just got here.”

“Shortlist?”

She stared at him for a moment. “How in the world are you sitting at the shortlist table when you don’t even know what it is?”

Twilight remembered Franky mentioning something the night before about one of the kids at the table preparing to do some sort of trial. The Gauntlet he’d called it. It was all connected to the Desmonds somehow but that was the extent of their intel.

“It happened by accident,” he said. “Demetrius seems to have…taken a liking to my brother.” 

The girl hummed in thought. “That makes sense.”

“What? How does that make sense?”

“You’re only allowed to sit at that table if you’re trying to get into Demetrius’s inner circle,” she explained in a hushed voice. “It’s like a waiting room of sorts. Demetrius or one of his cronies decides if you’re allowed to sit at the shortlist. Then, when they decide that you’re ready—or maybe if Demetrius is just bored—they’ll let someone from the table do The Gauntlet.”

Twilight leaned forward a little more, brow furrowed in focus.

“From what I’ve heard, The Gauntlet is a series of challenges,” she continued. “I’ve heard conflicting things about what the challenges are, so Demetrius probably just comes up with them for his own amusement. They say he once made a kid down an entire bottle of vodka which almost killed the poor guy. Or another time he made a different kid sneak into the headmaster’s office at night and steal his coin collection. Dumb stuff like that.”

“And what happens if you pass The Gauntlet?” To this, the girl shrugged.

“I dunno. Girls aren’t allowed to participate and once a guy gets inducted into the inner circle, Demetrius has them wrapped around his finger,” she said. “It’s hard to talk to them after that.”

Twilight tapped his fingers against his desk while he thought. It was good that he and Franky had already secured a way into The Gauntlet, but the trials themselves worried him. He could handle a bottle of vodka or a simple stealth mission, he did those every other weekend. But he was worried that Franky wouldn’t be able to keep up, or worse, that he would get caught up in it. Franky had taken to being a stupid teenager alarmingly well. Putting him in an environment where he was encouraged to act idiotic could be dangerous.

“Hey!” 

A nearby voice snapped them out of their conversation. A table down, Yuri eyed them suspiciously with a raised accusatory finger.

“No unrelated conversations during class!” he scolded. The girl rolled her eyes.

“It’s rude to interrupt people’s conversations, Yuri,” she shot back. “Mind your own business.”

Yuri’s face turned a deep red. “It’s my job as the vice president to ensure Eden Academy students uphold its high standard of excellence,” he spat. “You’d do well to do the same, Chloe.”

Chloe laughed. “That’s not your job, you’re just psychotic and have a serious complex about your sister. You should try therapy or something instead of acting like the school’s secret police.”

“Keep my sister out of this! I could give you a detention!” Yuri hissed with a slam of his fist against the table. The girl just stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to Twilight, leaving Yuri to fume while his reading partner desperately tried to calm him down. She noticed Twilight staring at her in disbelief.

“I’m the student council treasurer,” she said simply. “He can threaten me all he wants but he knows he can’t do anything.”

Twilight nodded as he put the pieces together in his mind. He’d heard of a Chloe being on the student council, he just hadn’t expected her to be in his class. He smiled to himself. If he played his cards right, he might have another powerful ally on his roster.

—

Franky had expected Twilight to still be in a pissy mood when they met again for gym class. For a spy who was allegedly extremely stoic and composed, it was easy for Franky to tell when something was irritating him. Usually this was because Franky himself was the source of Twilight’s irritation, but he could usually tell when something was off nonetheless. In addition to this, he was learning that Twilight, despite his proclaimed maturity, seemed to hold grudges, especially when his effectiveness as a spy was called into question. This was also something Franky had done often and so had seen it firsthand multiple times.

However, when they ran into each other in the gym locker room, there was no trace of a grudge on Twilight’s impassive face. In fact, unless Franky was mistaken, he almost seemed to be in a good mood—he hardly even looked constipated.

“You happy to see your girlfriend today, Loid?” he asked with a grin. He was testing the waters. Twilight’s features stiffened ever so slightly but he remained mostly unperturbed. Impressive.

“I’ve gotten some good intel,” Twilight murmured, his voice dropping as they saw Yuri strut into the locker room, “I’ll tell you later when we’re more secure.”

Yuri quickly got to work interrogating and threatening the two, especially digging into Twilight who kept his answers polite but short which only seemed to further aggravate him. They were finally delivered from Yuri’s pestering when they got to class to be met by Coach Briar and he transformed into an angel that hung on her every word. When she saw Twilight, her face lit up a little.

“Thanks again for your help yesterday, Loid!” she chirped sweetly. Yuri was nearly beside himself with jealousy.

Franky knew Twilight was purposefully avoiding his gaze when she said that. Fair enough, he fully planned to tease the spy the next chance he got.

But the opportunity wouldn’t come until much later. They ran laps all throughout gym class meaning that Twilight effortlessly sprinted ahead, leaving Franky wheezing and panting as he struggled to keep up a slow jog. Afterwards, Yuri constantly nagged Twilight—“Quit trying to show off to my sister!” “I’m not, though.” “Yes you are!”—until they got to the cafeteria for lunch. They spent an agonizing and tedious hour at the same lunch table as before, eating in silence as the other kids eyed them skeptically.

After lunch, they went to their shared class with Demetrius who called Franky over again. With a nod to Twilight, Franky complied. It’d been a stroke of luck that Demetrius had invited Franky to sit with him yesterday. He knew Twilight was dying to know what they were talking about, but it honestly hadn’t been much. Demetrius had spent any student discussion time murmuring to his lackeys about something and Franky braced himself for a repeat of the day before. However, to his surprise, today Demetrius actually addressed him.

“Franky, what’re your plans for the weekend?” Demetrius asked. His tone was casual, but Franky could detect a slight edge to it, as if this simple question was meant to be a test of some sort. He didn’t know what to say.

“Nothing so far,” Franky answered, as relaxed as he could manage. “Might go to the movies or something but I don’t have any plans.”

Demetrius nodded as he thought, his large, round eyes never leaving Franky’s face. He tilted his head ever so slightly.

“So you’re not going to the party happening Friday night?” he asked. Franky considered his next words carefully.

“It’s hard to go to a party when you don’t know it’s happening,” he replied with a shrug. “Guess I’ll need an invite or something.”

Demetrius observed him for a moment longer before smiling slightly.

“I suppose you will, won’t you?” he said slyly. “It’s at the Brandt estate, nine pm. Don’t show up before then.”

Franky coughed to hide the grin creeping across his lips. Twilight was going to freak out; he’d actually secured an invite to a party. From Demetrius, no less! However, as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he froze. He had an invite, Twilight did not. He dreaded what he was about to say but forced himself to choke out the words anyway.

“Can I bring my brother?”

Demetrius’s smile tightened a bit as they both glanced Twilight’s way. The man in question was deep in thought as he studied a diagram in his textbook. He was back to his usual stern, focused self. Demetrius returned his gaze to Franky.

“This time, I suppose,” he replied evenly. There was a hint of something else in his expression—disappointment? Regret? Franky needed to fix this.

“Oh thank goodness,” he said quickly with an uneasy laugh, “Between the two of us, Loid’s never been very good at making friends. I’ve gotta look out for him, you now? Don’t want him getting lonely when I go out with friends and he’s left home alone. You know what I mean?”

After a moment, Demetrius relaxed and his smile returned. “I see, that makes sense,” he said, “It must be exhausting having him as a brother.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Franky laughed.

For the rest of class, Franky was on cloud nine. He had an invite! To a party! The second class was over, he excused himself from Demetrius and made a beeline to Twilight.

“Loid! Listen to this!” he half whispered, half exclaimed as he tried to conceal his overflowing excitement. “There’s a party happening this weekend! And I got us invites!”

“A party?” Loid murmured back, eyebrow raised. “Is Demetrius going to be there?”

“Who do you think invited me?” Franky said with a grin. Twilight gave him an impressed look.

“That’s good. The intel I got this morning was about his Gauntlet challenge. This would be a good opportunity to get into his good graces so we can do it,” he said. “During band practice, try to get more information on the party; how many people are going to be there, if we need to bring anything, stuff like that.”

Franky deflated at the mention of band practice. He rubbed his face with a groan.

“Oh crap, I forgot about band,” he mumbled.

“You still remember my training, right?”

“Oh believe me, I could never forget. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to do it when there’s this much pressure.”

Twilight clapped him on the back. “If all else fails, ask if you can play the triangle.”

“Are we still sure it’s too late to switch classes?” 

“If you want to risk Handler’s wrath, go ahead and ask.” Twilight stood up to go to his next class. “But in the meantime, you’d better hope all their music is in 4/4. Otherwise, good luck.”

Franky let out another pained groan. Somehow Twilight had the ability to suck the joy out of any good news he had. He dragged himself to next period, already cringing in anticipation about what was going to happen next.

Chapter Text

The band room was abuzz with casual conversation and the clacking sounds of students assembling their instruments when Franky walked in. The band director, Mr. Kramer, stopped him before he could tiptoe by and try to sit out band practice among the larger instruments in the back. 

“Hey, uh–” the mustachioed man paused. “Freddy, is it?”

“Franky, sir,” he answered, silently praying he’d be able to pull this off. He smiled and tried to look nonchalant. Like a kid who knew something about music. Technically, he did know more than when he’d first joined the class yesterday.

“Franky. Did you decide on an instrument? I recall you said you were multi-talented and wanted a day to think things through. We’re still in need of a bass clarinet!”

Franky had no idea there were different types of clarinets. “Uh, yes. I, uh, is triangle open?”

The man raised one bushy eyebrow. “Triangle? You mean you want to join the percussion section?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I meant,” he said as the back of his neck grew hot. Damn, it was hard to lie when he had no idea what he was doing. How did Twilight manage to bullshit his way through life-or-death situations on the regular?

“Alright, well, a spot did recently open up back there. See that blond boy next to the vibraphone? That’s Elliott, go talk to him and he’ll get you set up.”

What the hell was a vibraphone? It sounded dirty. Franky scanned the back of the band room and thanked the stars that he recognized Demetrius’ lackey, tall and lean with neatly coiffed hair. He had an in. Perhaps a semi-hostile in, given that both Edward and Elliott had never talked to him directly and might feel protective of their positions as Demetrius’ yes-men. Franky would soon find out what the kid was like when his ‘boss’ wasn’t around.

“Thanks, Mr. Kramer,” Franky nodded and made his way up the elongated steps to the back of the band room.

“Hey,” Elliott greeted impassively. “Didn’t know you were in band too.”

“Hey, yep, I am.” Franky gave a half-hearted wave as he glanced around at all the different drums. He was still trying to figure out which of the contraptions was a vibraphone, with the probably incorrect assumption that it looked like a phallus. 

“So you’re part of the balcony, huh. Alright. You can take timpani today.” The boy handed him a couple of mallets with no explanation as to which instrument was timpani. 

Franky decided to take his first gamble. “I was actually hoping to play triangle.”

Elliott stared at him quizzically just like the band director had. “Just triangle?”

Franky knew right then and there that he wouldn’t be able to last the whole class like this. Twilight and Stratus hadn’t adequately warned him of all the unspoken rules of band, or maybe they didn’t even know all the rules themselves.

“Okay, so listen…” Franky leaned in and spoke hurriedly, as most of the kids had settled in their seats. “I signed up for this class by accident and can’t back out. I don’t know jack shit about percussion. Or anything about music, really.”

Elliott gave a choked laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “Are you serious, man? No wonder Demetrius likes you. You’re fucking insane.”

Right. He’d told Twilight that the key to being cool was not caring, but there was another route to popularity or at least notoriety: becoming the class clown. The kid who purposely got into trouble and flaunted it. Franky made another split-second decision to lean into the role fully. 

“I have a bet going against my brother that I can fake my way through the semester without getting caught,” he said conspiratorially. “Help me win?”

Elliott eyed him as if sizing up his worth. “What’s in it for me?”

“Band will never be boring.”

“I don’t mind boredom if it means I avoid a Tonitrus.”

“Come on man, just give me a chance! I swear I’ll make it worth your while.”

Elliott gave a small smirk as the band director called for everyone’s attention. Alright. Just for today, he mouthed.

Franky felt almost as nervous as when he’d had close calls with the SSS—not direct chases, but when they were just around the corner and about to spot him. His dubious ally wasn’t making things much better. He tried to draw on his WISE training and his many years dealing in the underground to psychoanalyze the kid while listening to the teacher at the same time. 

Elliott was one of Demetrius’ closest friends. It had to have taken a lot of time and effort to reach that position. His main motivation was probably to stay in good standing with Demetrius and fend off anyone from supplanting him.

Franky had to gain Elliott’s favor and use him to get closer to Demetrius without seeming like a threat. It was possible Elliott already had him on his radar as a potential threat, since he’d seen Demetrius invite him to the party happening on Friday.

If Elliott vouched for him, it had to be because he had something to gain from taking Franky under his wing. It could be as simple as wanting to have an underling of his own to do his bidding after acting as Demetrius’ lackey for so long. To feel a bit more powerful and important. It could also be entertainment. Elliott said he didn’t mind being bored, but at heart almost all teens wanted to push boundaries and see how much they could get away with.

The band soon began rehearsing its first piece, but Elliott and the other percussionists didn’t move or look alert. Elliott motioned to Franky and sat down with him behind the biggest drum—a bass drum, if he remembered correctly from Twilight’s textbook.

“Some music doesn’t have percussion at all, like this piece,” he whispered. “Our lucky day.”

He then began to point out the different instruments around them, falling silent whenever there was a break in the music. Franky tried to keep it all straight in his head as he studied several instruments that hadn’t been in the textbook. He learned that a vibraphone did not in fact resemble a sex toy, and for that matter, neither did a woodblock.

“You’ll take cymbals for today,” Elliott finished. “There’s a piece coming up where it’s rests all the way through to the end where there’s a cymbal crash.”

Franky nodded, relieved that the boy was being so helpful. For the next piece, Elliott let him stand beside him and watch as he manned several instruments at once, sometimes pointing at the sheet music to indicate what spot they were at.

Franky’s hands grew damp with sweat around the cool metal of the cymbals as he waited through the third piece for his big moment. There were literally hundreds of measures before it, and he easily got lost. It didn’t help that the director kept stopping and starting, giving feedback to different sections and sometimes individual players. Without anything to do but wait and count, he sank into a post-lunch haze and began to wonder what Twilight was up to.

But then, the next time the band started up again, the director kept going. Franky panicked as he knew his part was coming up but had no idea when. 

Elliott nudged him suddenly and Franky straightened up with a jolt. The boy held out four fingers with his free hand, signaling there were four measures left. Franky nodded his thanks and counted as precisely as he could. The row of brass instruments in front of him swelled with a theme that would have sounded triumphant if some of them hadn’t flubbed the high notes. 

This was it. 1, 2, 3, 4…

CRASH!!! Franky brought the cymbals together forcefully and winced as his ears and hands vibrated.

“Stop, stop!” Mr. Kramer yelled, and waved his hands abruptly. 

A giant wave of laughter rippled up and down the rows of students, and almost everyone turned around to look at whoever it was who’d fucked up the one job they’d been given. In a state of near paralysis, Franky managed to spot Demetrius’ wide-eyed stare from the trumpet section.

“Oh, it’s you, Freddy,” Mr. Kramer sighed. “I guess you’re still getting the hang of the piece. But wasn’t it obvious that that wasn’t the time to come in? It was smack in the middle of the main theme.”

Fighting mortification, Franky didn’t bother to correct the man on his name, even as he realized that Elliott must have set him up. “Uh, sorry. Yeah, I must have counted wrong.”

Beside him, Elliott was watching him carefully with a standoffish smile—amused but assessing. Franky knew that look. There were plenty of unspoken tests and archaic initiation rites in the criminal underworld. This smacked of the same flavor. The boy was testing Franky. To see if he’d sell him out or take the fall like a loyal dog.

“Well, everyone makes mistakes. Just don’t make the same mistake twice,” the teacher admonished, and moved on to point out some other area of improvement for the flute section.

Franky could not be more grateful when band practice was over. Before he could make his way down the wide steps and leave, Elliott placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey. That’s it?” the boy said neutrally. 

Franky turned and shrugged. “What’s there to say? You got me good. And I did promise you that band wouldn’t be boring.”

A half-smirk appeared on the boy’s face. “Alright. Not bad. You’re definitely more interesting than the last guy.”

Last guy? Franky waited for more, but Elliott only shook his head. 

“See you around, Franky.”

—

Yuri was well-aware of his reputation as the school’s secret police, though the ‘secret’ moniker was completely unnecessary. He made it no secret when he disliked someone (everyone), and gave plenty of warning (even if just by stomping loudly down the hall) before slapping anyone with detention. All 117 pages of Eden College’s code of conduct were publicly available for students to read, and they had all willingly signed it as part of the enrollment process. Rules were made to be followed, and laxity in enforcement was the first step toward the disintegration of a civilized society. 

Personally, his other motivation for upholding the law was to make the environment safe and orderly for his dear sister. She had slaved away for as long as Yuri could remember to provide for his every need since their parents had passed away. It was because of her that he could attend this school free of charge, eventually graduate with high honors, and find the highest-paying job possible so she would never have to work another day in her life.

Two years ago when Yor had first told him about her job offer from Eden, he had balked. A gym teacher? His sister was more athletic than anyone he knew, but having to exercise as a job, and moreover to wrangle a crowd of disrespectful kids including lecherous boys who would undoubtedly use the opportunity to ogle her, was too much of a sacrifice. 

But then she’d informed him that as part of the offer, Yuri would get a free ride. He would no longer have to attend an underfunded, overcrowded public school where neither the students nor teachers cared about gaining a proper education and becoming a productive member of society. 

Yuri vowed to work harder than ever to achieve top grades and make his sister proud. Her investment would not go to waste. An Eden degree would enable him to climb the career ladder all the faster to pay her back.

And he had succeeded so far. He had nearly broken the school record with how fast he’d attained Imperial Scholar status. He was certainly the first commoner to have done so within only one semester. His hard work had not gone unnoticed by the faculty. At the beginning of last year, the faculty committee of student life had appointed him vice president of the student council. 

When Yuri had first started at the school, he had felt insecure about his abilities. He was going up against the elite of the elite, children who had had private tutors since they could first walk. Could he really measure up with his secondhand textbooks and reliance on the local library?

But within a couple months as he racked up his first few Stella stars through top marks on midterms and big projects, he realized that privilege often bred indolence. Indolence, arrogance, entitlement—he saw it on full display all around him in his peers. Many barely bothered with their studies, assuming that their father’s connections would land them a spot in a top university and a cushy job no matter what, if they even planned to work instead of whittling away their family’s estate on their own frivolous whims. Those who did apply themselves to their studies only did so out of vanity.

The injustice of it made Yuri seethe with rage. Here he and his dear sister were, working their asses off, lucky not to have starved to death in the war, while these silver spoon children dozed off in class, passed notes about girls or boys they wanted to date (or to his absolute horror, lewd observations about his sister!), and—as recent rumors went—partook in illegal drugs for fun. The criminal audacity!

And now, as if he didn’t have enough to worry about, these so-called ‘twin’ brothers had showed up out of nowhere, clearly with something to hide given that they looked old as fuck. Yuri already suspected at least three lies. Their age, Loid Forger’s claim never to have played any sports, and the assurance that he had no ill intent toward his sister. The last one did not exactly make him an anomaly among the male population at Eden, but Loid was a particular threat. Yuri was not blind to how he’d stared at Yor as if memorizing every inch of her face and body, or how he’d signed up for that dead-end mentorship program as soon as she’d asked for volunteers. And his sister, in turn, was too much of an angel to suspect anything off about the guy. She always tried to see the best in everyone and could be frightfully naive at times. Thus, it was up to Yuri to protect her. 

Today, it looked like he needed to step up as her bodyguard once again. As he often did, he went to the gym after school to wait for her before going home together. She worked so hard without asking for extra pay, taking on many extracurricular programs that no other faculty were willing to oversee. This afternoon was practice for the wrestling team. Though he would never say so to his sister’s face, he hated the fact she had taken up the mantle of wrestling coach. The reasons were obvious. It exposed her to even more ogling than usual from an all-male audience, and more than ogling, they got to touch her—intimately!—on a regular basis. Even if that intimate touch entailed slow suffocation and painfully twisted limbs as she easily crushed every opponent’s attempts to defeat her on the mat.

Yuri beelined for the newcomer in the stands as soon as he spotted him. Of course Loid Fucking Forger would be here. Of course he’d choose wrestling as the ‘first’ sport he’d ever try.

Yuri narrowed his eyes as the boy studiously ignored him until he was right in his face, blocking his view of his sister. 

“Don’t make me say it,” Yuri hissed.

“Good afternoon to you too, Yuri,” Loid said in that fakeass polite tone. God, he hated this kid.

“Why the hell are you here?”

“Coach Briar mentioned Eden’s teams needed new players. I’m simply here to explore the options,” Loid explained, unruffled.

“Don’t bring my sister into this.”

“What? Coach Briar?”

“Don’t say her name!”

Loid made his fakeass confused face. Yuri wanted to punch it. 

“How can I participate in gym if I can’t say the teacher’s name?”

“Don’t say it in that tone. I can practically hear the depravity in your voice.”

Loid laughed lightly, in a way that was supposed to sound nervous but only came off as smug to Yuri. “Yuri, relax. I swear I’m only here to join a sports team. I want to be an Imperial Scholar, just like you.”

“‘Just like you,’” Yuri mocked in a high-pitched voice. “Oh no you don’t. Flattery won’t work on me.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I have a girlfriend? She just doesn’t go to this school,” Loid offered.

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. He kept one eye on Loid while he noticed Yor’s current opponent tap out on the mat, red in the face and wheezing for breath. 

“That doesn’t mean anything. Guys who look like you are guaranteed to be fake as shit. It’d mean nothing to you to cheat.”

Loid shook his head, still putting on the good-natured front as if he were the more mature one. Yuri itched to put him in his place. Just one slip-up was all he needed to give him detention. And, if he were really lucky, one day he could get this kid expelled. Expulsion was beyond the direct jurisdiction of student council members, but they could still inform the faculty of serious rule violations and influence the committee’s decision.

“Here, let me prove it,” Loid said, and pulled his wallet out. 

Yuri peered at the picture of an unsmiling girl with chin-length lavender hair. Aesthetically, she was pretty. But she looked more like she wanted to kill whoever was behind the camera than to be anyone’s girlfriend.

“This proves nothing. You’re not even in the picture,” Yuri accused.

Loid rolled his eyes, the first sign of exasperation Yuri had gotten out of him. “I don’t want to look at myself. Just her. Have you never had a girlfriend before?”

“Oh, who’s that a picture of, Loid?” Yor piped up right behind him.

Yuri jumped and turned around, forgetting once again that his sister had the preternatural ability to sneak up on people in complete silence. “Sis! I’m so sorry, did I interrupt your work?”

“No, no, not at all, I told them to practice the new move on each other,” she waved it off, and smiled her lovely smile at the two of them. Loid smiled back and stepped down from the stands toward her.

Yuri quickly moved between his sister and his classmate. He cursed Loid Forger’s height advantage as he couldn’t fully block them from looking at each other.

“Yuri, what are you doing?” Yor asked, puzzled.

“Huh? What?” he feigned ignorance. “When will you be done with practice today, sis? I can’t wait to go home and have dinner together! You always cook the best meals!”

A low chuckle emanated from his nemesis behind him. “Coach Briar works so hard at her job and still has to cook for you?”

Yuri bristled and whirled on Loid. “Listen, you–”

“Loid, are you interested in joining the wrestling team?” Yor said loudly, and in a blink of an eye she was suddenly standing between them, having moved Yuri aside with barely a whoosh of air. 

“Yes.” “No!” 

The two boys glared at each other simultaneously. 

“Yes, I came here to observe practice and see if I might be able to add something to the team,” Loid said, his voice the tiniest bit strained. “Unfortunately I’m still recovering from a minor injury so I won’t be able to actively wrestle for a couple weeks, but in the meantime I’ll–”

“You’ll do nothing,” Yuri cut in. “Now I know for sure it’s all an excuse! Injured my ass, you’re only here to cheat, you good-for-nothing liar!”

“Yuri!” Yor sounded shocked. “How can you go around making such baseless accusations against your classmates? I raised you better than that!”

Yuri’s fury abated only because she looked upset, and he hated seeing her upset for any reason. 

“But sis,” he said pleadingly, “he must be lying, I know it! He claims to have a girlfriend ‘out of town,’ but it’s the oldest lie in the book! He’s only here to–”

“Coach Briar, let me just make things easier and find some other after-school activity. You have your hands full with a lot already,” Loid said with a pointed glance at Yuri. “I don’t want to make it worse. Have a good rest of practice!”

Loid turned to leave, sending a spike of triumph through Yuri’s veins. But then, to his utter horror, Yor reached over and grabbed Loid’s wrist. A wrist grab! No! That was far too intimate, even worse than when she made full body contact with the acne-ridden boys on the mat!

“Wait, Loid. I apologize for my brother’s behavior,” Yor said, and Yuri sank into an entirely new pit of despair and shame. How could he let his dear sister down so badly that she felt the need to apologize for him?

Loid stopped and turned around, the fake pleasant look back on his face. Thankfully, Yor let go of his wrist and stepped back self-consciously.

“We do need more wrestlers, and you seem like you’ll pick up the basics easily,” Yor spoke faster than usual, and to Yuri’s dismay, she blushed! No! He had failed her! “So why don’t you keep attending practice just to watch until your injury’s no longer bothering you? If you have time, that is. You must be busy with your many other talents.”

No! This was getting worse by the second!! “Sis, you don’t–”

“Be quiet, Yuri,” she said firmly, not looking at him. Yuri shut his mouth and whimpered.

Loid rubbed the back of his head and smiled. “Oh, well, if there’s a need on the team, I’d be happy to. If it’s not a bother to you.”

“Not at all!”

“Okay, then…I guess I’ll stick around,” Loid said with that infernal laugh of his. He stepped around Yuri and took a seat in the stands once more. 

Yor beamed and went back to the mat. As soon as her back was turned, Yuri whirled on Loid, jabbing a finger in his face.

“Don’t think this is over, Loidy,” he spat. Loid furrowed his brow at the nickname. “One wrong move and I will have you ex—I mean, I’ll give you so many detentions you’ll never get to attend practice!”

Loid blinked and nodded slowly. “Yeah, got it. Well, it’s nice to see Coach Briar has a brother like you to watch out for her.”

“Oh shut up!”

Chapter Text

Twilight had been to many parties. The last one he went to was a charity gala held in north Ostania where he was disguised as a distinguished military officer. The one before that, he’d snuck into an underground rave on the seedy side of Berlint. There, he had pretended to be a gangster who was dealing arms on the side. And before that, Twilight had infiltrated the family reunion of a well-known diplomat as a relative. It was tricky, but thankfully the diplomat had a distant cousin who conveniently wasn’t very close to the rest of the family.

All of this was to say that Twilight knew parties. He knew exactly when to show up, what to bring, what to wear, how to act, and who to be. So, it was very lucky that he would finally establish solid contact with the target—Demetrius—at a party. He would be the ideal partygoer.

He just needed to figure out what that looked like.

“I suppose it’d be pointless to ask if you went to any house parties as a teenager,” Twilight mumbled to Franky on the bus ride home.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Franky shot back.

“From what I’ve gathered, you weren’t terribly popular in high school,” Twilight muttered, careful to keep his voice low. The kids around them didn’t seem to pay them any mind, but it never hurt to be cautious.

“Well,” Franky sunk into his seat as he looked out the window, undoubtedly recounting some memory, “No, I wasn’t, but I still had friends. I went to a couple parties. They were small, but it’s something.”

Twilight considered that for a moment, then asked, “Do you know who else is going to be at this party? How many other people? How long it’ll last? If there’s a party agenda?”

“No idea.”

“You were supposed to find out.”

“Well I didn’t.”

“Great.”

There were no records of WISE agents attending a high school house party in the archives. Unsurprisingly, there were no books about the subject in any of the libraries Twilight checked. He resorted to digging through old movie reels he found, desperate for any sort of reference for teenage house parties but found nothing useful. He hated it, being unprepared.

Franky, on the other hand, was excited.

“This is gonna be so fun!” he hummed with delight as he sat on Twilight’s bed—much to Twilight’s annoyance—mere hours before they were to leave for the party in question. “I hope the music’s good. Well, it probably won’t be because Ostania censors all the good stuff…but maybe they’ve got some banned records! Stuff from abroad! You know how rich kids are.”

As Franky rambled with excitement, Twilight was having a silent breakdown. His room was uncharacteristically disorganized from all of the clothes laid out on every available surface. His closet was ransacked, every drawer pulled open, a trail of shoes lined up against the wall, in both of his hands were multiple hangers of shirts and pressed pants. It was maddening. He had to devise the perfect outfit that was both tasteful enough to blend in with the children of the richest families in Ostania, but wasn’t too overdone or excessive. Twilight obsessively and habitually read men’s fashion magazines; he theoretically knew exactly the perfect outfit—but that was for grown adult men and these were teenagers and he didn’t have any of the clothes he did want because WISE was too cheap for actually good clothes! None of the patterns or colors were matching up, every shirt he tried on seemed just a little too loose or tight, the belts he had didn’t pair well with any of his pants, he didn’t know if he should wear a sweater, a cardigan, a jacket, or any outerwear at all for that matter, he somehow owned so many clothes and yet none of them looked good together or on him, and how was he supposed to be the perfect teenage house partygoer if he was dressed like an idiot–

“Yo, you good, Twilight?” Franky’s voice seemed distant. “You’ve tried on that shirt at least three times.”

Twilight froze in the middle of unbuttoning a pale blue striped shirt that he realized he had indeed already tried on several times. He dazedly blinked a few times as he took in the room around him, as if waking up from a nightmare.

“It’s important that we make a good impression at the party,” he said finally, “and first impressions begin with appearances.”

Franky scoffed and flopped down further onto Twilight’s bed.

“I don’t think it’ll matter too much what you’ll wear,” he replied with a lazy stretch. “You’ve got decent clothes but more importantly you’re hot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Quit acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know you prepped that picture of Nightfall because you knew girls were gonna be throwing themselves at you,” Franky grumbled. “Your appearance isn’t the thing to worry about here, you need to focus on not looking like you’re trying to hold in a sneeze all the time. You’re gonna scare everyone off.”

Twilight scowled but soon settled on an outfit that didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin.

—

The Brandt family found their claim to wealth and glory through the ownership of old land that suddenly became obscenely valuable through urban expansion. They took their newly acquired riches to reinvest in more land and real estate and the cycle had continued since then. The family was new money and as such their mansion was built in the newest contemporary style; geometric, clean, and industrial. Their estate was situated in an exclusive neighborhood nestled in the hills overlooking Berlint and within convenient walking distance to Eden Academy. 

At 10:15 PM sharp, Franky and Twilight emerged from a cab and stepped onto the Brandt estate. They’d argued at length about the right time to arrive, with Twilight insisting that earlier was better and Franky trying to explain that only psychopaths showed up to parties on time. It’d ended with their shouting match being broken up by Norman clapping them both on the back to tell them to quit bothering the neighbors and that dinner was ready. 

The two ate dinner in tense silence as Norman chatted jovially. He offered the compromise of arriving at the party late with an excuse of homework needing to be done first. The fake brothers agreed begrudgingly. When their fake father saw them out the door, he’d grinned cheerfully.

“Make good choices, boys! Have fun!”

Cold silence in return.

Twilight and Franky could hear the party long before they saw it; the hubbub of the teenagers’ loud antics rivaled that of a full sports stadium. Through the large mansion windows they could see that the place was packed. The party was beginning to overflow onto the estate’s large lawn and balconies. It was far more disorganized than Twilight would’ve liked.

“Let’s split up. Find Demetrius but do not initiate contact,” Twilight murmured. “I want to be there when we do.”

“Yeah, okay,” Franky mumbled back.

“I’m serious. This is a crucial step in Strix. We can’t mess it up.”

That went over as well as it usually did. Franky peeled off almost immediately after stepping into the house. Or as best as he could because the place was like a train platform during rush hour, except instead of tired salary workers it was sweaty teens stepping on each other’s toes while sipping from cups full of some awful smelling cocktail of alcohol. This was unlike any party Twilight had attended. Even the underground raver he had gone to had had some semblance of order, while this crowd of unruly students reminded him of a pack of wild animals. Unpredictable. Unknowable.

Twilight tried to discreetly shoulder his way through the crowd, fighting the instinct to cover his ears as music blared from an expensive overhead sound system and the teenagers around him yelled at each other just to be heard. The cacophony was uncomfortably similar to the panicked uproar of the battlefield. A nearby shriek of laughter sounded like a shell whistling in the air. Combined with the stench of sweat, bodies, and the faint reek of vomit somewhere in the house, all that was missing was the metallic smell of blood. How in the world were these sorts of events supposed to be fun?

He pushed aside his discomfort and soldiered on, fighting to keep a pleasant, neutral expression. The house had a fairly open layout. Twilight could see much of the first floor just by craning his neck. Being a head taller than most of the partygoers helped. He found himself near the kitchen area where a line of kids were refilling their cups from a large punch bowl. The smell of it alone nearly made Twilight’s eyes water. Even his trained nose couldn’t identify what atrocious combination of alcohol the teenagers had made. If the copious amounts of empty bottles stacked on the counter were any indication of its contents, it was clear quantity had been favored over quality. He felt a headache coming on.

Pull yourself together, Twilight! he berated himself. Focus! Gather intel!

It was much easier said than done. Everyone was already engrossed in their own conversations and cliques. No matter how suave Twilight was, even he knew that inserting himself into a random conversation in this context would be a tall order. He attempted that a couple times but was met with barely concealed grimaces after which he excused himself. A few girls shyly asked to dance with him, which he politely refused. It was all exhausting and humiliating. 

Twilight resigned himself to watching the party unfold through the windows as he caught his breath out on the balcony. He was uncomfortably close to a number of couples making out but at least they were relatively quiet compared to the rest of the partygoers. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe in the cool night air.

“Loid Forger? I did not expect to see you at a house party,” a voice beside him said out of nowhere, nearly causing Twilight to jump. His eyes flew open to see a familiar chestnut haired girl.

“And I didn’t expect to see the student council treasurer here either,” he replied as casually as he could manage. Chloe snorted.

“It’s the duty of the student council to monitor student body activities,” she said with a shrug. “On and off campus.”

“Are you going to call the police on us, then?” He gestured to the punch bowl in the kitchen. “There’s definitely illegal activity going on.”

“If I called the cops on every party Eden had, I’d stop being invited to them.” 

“I see.”

The breeze was helping to alleviate his pounding headache but he mostly just wanted to go home. Ugh, Handler was right. He really was an old man.

“Well, I suppose it makes sense that you’re here,” Chloe continued, “seeing that the word is tonight Demetrius is gonna make Benjamin Brandt start his Gauntlet challenge.”

Twilight perked up. Franky had mentioned a Benjamin trying to do the Gauntlet challenge. And now here he was, in his house, on the night he was to start. How fortuitous.

A new thought interrupted his internal calculations and he paused.

“Where are you getting all this information?” Twilight asked Chloe as she took a sip from her cup. She gave him a knowing grin.

“I’m just a good listener,” she said simply. “I have to keep an ear to the ground. I’m on the student council, after all.”

Yes, but knowing about the intricacies of the student hierarchy and the shameful habits of the Eden staff was a different level of ‘keeping your ear to the ground.’ Her knowledge was impressive.

“Speaking of Demetrius, have you seen him anywhere?” Twilight asked as he gave the crowded house another scan. Chloe shook her head.

“No, he’s probably upstairs where the real party’s going on,” she muttered.

“Real party…?”

“That’s where the drugs are.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know exactly what kind of drugs yet,” she continued, “but usually if there’s drugs, Demetrius is nearby.”

That was news to Twilight. Handler had said that the Desmond patriarch, Donovan Desmond, was suspected of funneling drugs over the border to Westalis. However, their intel had not revealed that his son was using any illegal substances himself. 

“What’s got you so obsessed with Demetrius, anyway?” Chloe interrupted his thoughts as she leaned back against the balcony railing. “From what I’ve observed, it’s hardly worth getting close to him. He’s kind of an asshole.”

It was subtle but now she was even trying to get information out of Twilight. She looked relaxed, casual, maybe even slightly tipsy based on her carefree demeanor. But Twilight knew better. Her questions appeared innocuous but were undoubtedly probing. And her cup was full of water, not whatever concoction everyone else was sipping on. It was a shame she was still in high school. She would’ve made a great WISE agent.

“Just trying to make friends,” Twilight mumbled in response. If Chloe thought she was going to get the truth out of him, she was sorely mistaken. He was onto her tricks. He’d be taking from her treasure trove of intel but not adding to it. If she was annoyed by his vague, lackluster reply, she didn’t show it.

“Your brother is Franky, right?” she asked as Twilight stared out over the dark estate lawn, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Indeed he is.”

“You guys look nothing alike.”

“We get that a lot. We’re fraternal twins, not identical.”

“He’s a fun guy.”

“What makes you say that?”

“‘Cause he’s about to do a keg stand from the looks of it.”

“What?!”

Twilight whirled around and looked through the windows to see Franky surrounded by an excited crowd of teenagers egging him on as two burly looking jocks grabbed his ankles. Twilight tore through the herd of chanting students as quickly he could, but by the time he made it to the keg Franky was already upside down in the air. He bit his tongue to stop himself from cursing out his case partner for his stupidity right then and there. When Franky noticed Twilight glaring at him in the crowd, his eyes bugged out of his already reddened face and he spat out a stream of beer onto the ground.

“He spat it out!” one of the jocks yelled, “Doesn’t count!”

“What?! No! I was just distracted!” Franky shouted as they set him back down. The crowd of teens booed in disappointment. Franky slugged Twilight in the arm. The only thing stopping Twilight from punching him back in the face was the fact that it would probably kill him.

“I was ‘bout to break their record!” Franky hissed into Twilight’s ear, although considering the volume of the room it was more like a shout.

“We’ve hardly been here twenty minutes and you’re already tipsy!” Twilight shouted back. “Remember what our ‘mother’ said about staying sober?”

“I hardly had anything to drink, calm down! Besides, what did ‘mom’ say about you not being so uptight all the time!” Franky discreetly nodded to the stairs leading to the second floor where the familiar figure of Demetrius Desmond was descending, flanked by Edward and Elliott as usual. “Demetrius isn’t gonna wanna hang out with someone who won’t even drink at a house party!”

“Still, there are better ways of doing this,” Twilight growled. “I heard that Demetrius is making Benjamin start his Gauntlet challenge tonight. We can’t get an in if you’re inebriated.”

They would’ve continued their argument had Demetrius not been making his way to Franky and Twilight in the midst of the dispersing crowd of teenagers looking for a new source of entertainment. Under the boy’s owl stare, the two men swung their arms around each other’s shoulders in mock friendliness as if they hadn’t been about to start fighting just moments before.

“Franky,” Demetrius said with a polite nod and even more polite smile, “Loid. It’s good to see that both of you made it.”

“Hey! Demetrius!” Franky laughed a little too loudly. He was definitely tipsy. “Thanks for tellin’ me ‘bout this party, man!”

“Of course, anything for a friend.”

Twilight just knew that Franky was going to hold that over his head later.

“Y’know, ‘bout that, Demetrius,” Franky said, “my brother ‘n I heard you were gonna have Benjamin do your Gauntlet thingy. We wanna do it, too.”

Demetrius’s eyebrow rose and Twilight pinched Franky behind his back. He was ruining everything.

“Sorry about my brother, he’s a bit drunk–” Twilight began but was promptly interrupted.

“I’ll allow it.”

Even Twilight couldn’t contain his surprise. Franky smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

“See, Loid? Told ya–”

“However,” Demetrius interrupted again, “you need to prove that you’re actually committed to the challenge.”

“Oh I’m committed,” Franky slurred.

“Franky, shut up.” Twilight turned to Demetrius and offered his most sincere smile. “What would you like us to do?”

Demetrius’s usually reserved face broke out into a wide, devious grin.

—

Any normal person would’ve been drunk by now. Any normal teenager would’ve blacked out at this point. It was a miracle Franky was still on two feet. Twilight felt a thin coat of sweat on his neck and back which made his shirt stick to his skin. A slight buzz tingled from his chest to fingertips. He was tipsy. This was bad.

It was admirable, honestly, that the revolting cocktail of every alcohol under the sun that the other teens were sipping like juice had gotten Twilight to any level of intoxication. And, to give himself some credit, as the night had worn on, nearly everyone else was drunk out of their minds. Everyone except Demetrius, that is, who watched the party unfold with an amused smirk dancing across his lips. It was unnerving.

Demetrius had forced them to play several games of beer pong. It was ridiculously easy to a highly trained spy like Twilight. If it was only him playing, he would’ve completely annihilated every team of sloshed teens he was up against. He might as well have been playing with children. Except he had a child—Franky—playing as his teammate, and if his trainee was miserable at hand-eye coordination while sober, he was completely hopeless drunk. Twilight watched in horror as they began to lose round after round, forcing himself to choke down the awful cocktail that left a burning trail down his throat. At least when it was his turn to play he garnered an excited cheer from the crowd as he made each successful shot.

And now he was tipsy and standing outside on the estate’s huge lawn in front of a smug looking Demetrius and a crowd of curious partygoers. To his left, Franky swayed ever so slightly on uncertain feet. On his right was a similarly buzzed Benjamin Brandt.

“Alright, you’ve proven yourselves,” Demetrius announced, arms crossed, “but the real challenge starts now.”

“M’ready,” Franky slurred, “Lessgo.”

“Shut up, Franky,” Twilight mumbled back.

“This marks your first Gauntlet trial,” Demetrius continued, ignoring the interruption. “First things first. Take off all your clothes.”

Franky’s swaying stopped.

“Wha…?”

A ripple of giggles and oooohs went through the crowd behind Demetrius.

“W—Why do we need to take our clothes off?” Benjamin sputtered. He was a short boy with round features that were currently growing red with embarrassment.

“You’re simply going to take a quick jog around the neighborhood,” Demetrius said matter-of-factly, as if he were merely speculating about the weather. “There’s hardly anyone around. Unless you’re scared, of course.”

Benjamin continued to stammer. Twilight’s usually busy mind was uncharacteristically sluggish. Demetrius just wanted them to go streaking? All things considered, that was relatively tame. In the military, he’d been stripped naked plenty of times for group examinations and communal showers. That wasn’t even mentioning the dozens of honey traps he’d done. If there was one person who wasn’t insecure about his body, it was Twilight. His fingers went to his shirt buttons.

“Alright, let’s do this,” he muttered as he shucked off his shirt. Someone in the crowd loudly whistled. Franky’s head snapped towards Twilight in disbelief.

“Um… Loid…?” Franky’s eyes grew wide with panic as his fake brother started to undo his belt.

“For the mission,” Twilight mumbled back under his breath.

The crowd was already in hysterics. Franky’s face grew even redder.

“C’mon, Franky,” Demetrius goaded, “your brother’s committed. Are you?”

“W—Well, yeah, b—but…” 

Twilight had already seen plenty of Franky, far more than he ever wanted to, during their waxing session and the after gym showers at school. He didn’t have an…unattractive body, per se, but his reluctance to strip naked in front of a group of his peers—girls included—was understandable. And to do so next to Twilight would only multiply his humiliation.

“I—I can’t!” Benjamin sputtered before sprinting off into the house in shame.

“Coward!” Demetrius called after him, and the crowd followed suit. He turned back to the brothers. Franky yelped under his glare, but Twilight just shrugged, not feeling an ounce of shame as he started to undo his shoelaces.

“I guess I’ll just do it all by myself,” Twilight grunted as he pulled off a shoe, “like I do everything. By myself. Like Mom said I would.”

He saw Franky’s fists tighten. That would do it.

“Fine!” Franky roared, cheeks a deep crimson but his eyebrows pushed together in determination. Before Twilight could stop him, he snatched a cup out of the hands of a random kid in the crowd and downed its contents with one swig. He chucked the cup to the ground and ripped off his shirt to a raucous cheer from the spectators.

Chapter Text

“I hate you.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate—“ Franky let out a breathy wheeze, “I hate you so much.”

“This’ll go a lot faster if you save your breath,” Twilight said. In fact, he needed to get this over with as fast as possible. Taking a quick jog completely naked wasn’t that bad, but it was their destination that worried him.

Demetrius had waited until they were standing buck naked on the estate lawn before telling them they had to run to Eden and make a complete lap of the campus before they’d get their clothes back. Without any other choice, they’d turned and run while the rowdy crowd of students cheered and whistled after them. At first, Twilight had sprinted ahead, ready to get it all over with, but then Franky had desperately called after him to slow down. Now they were basically just speed walking through the dark streets completely nude which made it so much worse.

“I bet you’re glad now that we waxed you,” Twilight murmured.

“Oh shut up!” Franky snapped back. “Can’t believe you were so hung up on what you were gonna wear tonight when we ended up wearing nothin’ at all.”

Twilight let out a bitter laugh. The slight night breeze sent a shiver through him, a welcome opportunity to cool his burning skin. Franky self-consciously wrapped his arms around himself to fight the chilly air.

“It’s worse if you act awkward, you know.”

“Not another word!”

They dove into the bushes every time a car passed and had to pause when Franky got a thorn stuck in his heel, but otherwise made it to Eden without too much incident. Twilight paused to let Franky catch his breath. 

“Shit, I really gotta piss.”

Twilight huffed. “Serves you right for going straight to keg stands right when we walked in.”

“Whatever man! It was ‘for the mission,’ okay!”

“You are not allowed to say that.”

“And anyway, Demetrius forced us to get sloshed afterward!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your voice down,” Twilight waved it off, peering around them in the darkness for any stray passersby or security guards at this late hour. He and Franky stepped gingerly over grass and woodchips into the immaculately trimmed shrubs near the History building. 

“Be quieter! Aim at the ground!” Twilight hissed as Franky let loose a concentrated stream of urine straight into a leafy bush. It made an audible pattering sound against the leaves and worse, it shook the bush slightly so that someone nearby might notice.

“Hold on, I think someone’s back there,” a familiar teen voice sounded from the side of the building, a stone’s throw away.

Twilight and Franky both froze with utter dread. Their luck could not be any worse. They were about to be caught with their literal pants down in front of the figurative SSS.

They both sprang into action with as much stealth as they could, ducking low behind two adjacent shrubs and making themselves as small as possible. Twilight prayed it was dark enough that Yuri wouldn’t be able to spot their pale skin against the greenery. God forbid he found them and reported them! They could get expelled, or worse. Ostania took public indecency violations very seriously. The fact they were ‘minors’ wouldn’t lessen the punishment by much. 

“What is it? An intruder?” Coach Briar’s soft voice followed, and Twilight’s stomach plummeted further. No. No no no.  

Two pairs of footsteps drew closer, one obviously belonging to Yuri based on his eagerness to get ahead of his sister and protect her. The other set was almost inaudible. Twilight remembered then that Coach Briar could make herself all but invisible if she chose.

Franky was practically vibrating with nerves next to him. Twilight cursed his bad luck in having to train a rookie with no self-control on this mission. Why couldn’t Handler have just let him do this solo?

“It’s probably just an animal,” Coach Briar said. She was only about three meters away.

“Let me make sure. Stay back, sis.” Yuri was closer, maybe two meters. He bent down and picked something up off the ground. Twilight’s mind raced. Had he or Franky dropped something that could identify them? Not possible. They’d been stark naked and barefoot.

A second later a small rock struck Franky in the head. The rookie involuntarily cursed under his breath, immediately sending both Briar siblings on high alert. Twilight stayed stock still while he wished in vain that he could throw Franky to the wolves and run away. 

“Cheep, cheep!” Franky corrected stupidly as Yuri drew closer and poked the bush with a tree branch.

Twilight nearly choked at the sheer idiocy of his partner. What animal was that supposed to sound like? Some kind of squirrel-bird chimera?

“Stop, Yuri. Step back,” Coach Briar commanded in a wholly different tone. It sent shivers down Twilight’s spine. There was cold steel in her voice that made her sound eerily like Handler at her worst.

“But sis, it could be dangerous!” 

“That’s why I’ll handle this. Get behind me,” she said, and there was a rustling of clothing as if she’d just forcefully pulled her brother away from the bush.

Twilight shut his eyes. A string of pathetic alibis flitted through his mind. He picked one and prayed against all odds that Franky would have the wits to corroborate his story on the fly and not fuck up again.

In a snap of twigs, the bushes blocking their naked bodies from view were nearly torn from their roots as Coach Briar’s hands pushed them aside. Her slitted eyes glinted with suspicion as she caught sight of the two brothers. Twilight had never seen that look on her face before. Threatening and lethal.

A split-second later, the murderous glare melted away to a familiar confusion, and she stumbled backward, letting go of the shrubs. “Wh–what?” 

“What is it, sis? An injured animal? A corpse?” Yuri said urgently, and charged forward to take a look for himself.

Twilight preempted him by standing up partway, covering his genitals with his hands. It took no effort at all to put on a mask of contrition and shame.

“YOU!” Yuri shouted. His eyes widened in shock, the gears turning as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. He did a double take as Franky reluctantly popped his curly-haired head up beside his ‘brother’ and gave a sheepish wave. Then the teen’s face reddened as he realized they were both naked. “Sis! Don’t look!”

Yuri quickly positioned himself in front of his sister and spread his arms wide in an attempt to block her line of sight. It was entirely unnecessary because she had already covered her eyes with her hands. To his alarm, Twilight thought he could see faint wisps of steam rising from her ears.

“I can explain,” he said rapidly. He was Twilight, master of lies, weaver of foolproof deceptions. He could do this. “We were robbed.”

Franky shot him an incredulous look that would have given them both away if Yuri hadn’t been so blinded by rage. The teen scoffed and narrowed his eyes.

“Robbed? This is Eden College, one of the safest places in Berlint, not some run-down public school in whatever backwater town you claim to be from.”

“I swear,” Twilight said defensively. “Why else would we be here cowering in the bushes?”

“You tell me! On second thought, don’t bother! I won’t believe anything you say, liar!”

“My brother’s telling the truth!” Franky piped up, and Twilight internally sighed. He was not helping their case, as Yuri only looked more suspicious. “Eden kids are targets of robbery and kidnapping all the time! Haven’t you seen the news?”

“Yeah, rich ones are!” Yuri sniped. “Not nobodies like you.”

“Or you!” Franky shot back.

Twilight stepped in before Franky could completely lose the plot. His wild card of a partner had at least come up with a reasonable rationale, which Twilight could work with.

“It was dark and the robbers couldn’t tell whether we were rich or not. They didn’t believe us when we said we had no money. So they demanded that we give them everything, including our clothes,” Twilight elaborated.

“But why were you even on campus in the first place?” Yuri pressed. 

In the back of his mind, Twilight had to give the kid credit. He was a quick thinker and instinctively knew the right questions to ask. Like an SSS agent in training.

“Why were you here?” Franky interjected. Again, utterly unhelpful.

Yuri puffed himself up and glared at the scruffy-haired man. “I was helping my dear sister clean the locker rooms! Because she’s an angel and is always picking up after the lazy good-for-nothings on staff!”

“Yuri!” Coach Briar finally spoke up. She peeked between her fingers for a moment before quickly covering her eyes again. “Don’t speak about my coworkers that way. And stop being so mean to your friends. They’re clearly in trouble and need help.”

“They’re not my friends!” Yuri snapped, then suddenly realized it was his sister he’d snapped at. “Sorry, sis! I didn’t mean to disrespect you. It’s just that these two are up to no good, and we can’t let them get away with it! They’re trying to trick us and I can’t allow that!”

“Let me give you a description of the criminals,” Twilight supplied. “Two men, wearing all black, ski masks, one had brown hair slightly visible peeking out from the mask, the other I couldn’t tell. The brown-haired one was around 185 centimeters tall, the other one was shorter, around 170 centimeters. They both had switchblades and jumped us as we were walking from the Science building.”

Yuri fell silent as he digested all the realistic details Twilight had made up on the spot. Before he could repeat his earlier question, Twilight beat him to the punch. 

“I lost something very important to me earlier today and only realized it a couple hours ago. My brother came here with me to help me look for it.”

“What, that picture of your fake girlfriend?” Yuri taunted.

“Yuri! Stop being so rude!” Coach Briar ordered. 

“But sis-”

“It was our mother’s locket,” Twilight said somberly. “It holds one of the only photos I have of her before she died. I usually carry it with me but it must have fallen out of my pocket when I was hurrying between classes today.”

“Oh, Loid, that’s terrible!” Coach Briar exclaimed. As if forgetting the two of them were still naked, she removed her hands from her face and looked into his eyes with pure sympathy. “Let us help you find it!”

“Thank you, but it’s too late now,” he said, and injected just the right amount of sorrow into his voice. “We had just found it when those men took it along with all our stuff.”

Her demeanor changed instantaneously from vulnerable compassion to single-minded vengefulness. Franky took a step back in fright, while Twilight managed to stay rooted in place, his hands still hiding his privates. Perhaps it was a genetic trait that both Briars could flip between angelic innocence and murderous intent in a split-second. 

“Where did they go?” she seethed, her voice lowering quite a bit. 

“Uh, well, they ran that way,” Twilight gestured with his chin. “But it was a while ago. We’ve been stuck here without our clothes, not sure how to get off campus without getting in trouble.”

“You could have just flagged down a security guard and they would have helped you,” Yuri said skeptically. “Unless you were afraid they’d catch you in your lie!”

“Yuri! For the last time, stop being so mean! Loid just lost a picture of his mother! How would you feel if that had happened to you?” Coach Briar scolded him. “Now, take off your jacket and give it to Loid.”

“What? No way I’m giving–”

“Do it. Now,” she said in that lethal tone again.

“Yes, sis! Anything you say, sis!” 

Yuri tore off his jacket and threw it at Twilight. The latter caught it with a nod of thanks and quickly wrapped it around his waist, which caused the boy to break out into angry splutters.

“Gross! Don’t let your junk touch my clothes!”

“I promise I’ll wash it before returning it to you.”

“I don’t want it back! Keep it!”

Coach Briar took off her own jacket and moved forward gingerly to hand it to Franky, who accepted it gratefully. Twilight knew that if it weren’t for his nerves, Franky would have capitalized on the chance to boast that he’d gotten her clothes while Twilight had to settle for Yuri’s.

Then they had another problem. As she stepped back from Franky and the shrub covering his privates, Coach Briar wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

Yuri leaned forward and took a sniff. “Disgusting! Did you urinate on school property?”

Twilight direly wished that this was all an alcohol-induced nightmare that he would soon wake up from. “My brother was so scared when the knives came out that he pissed himself. You can’t blame him.”

Franky shot him a glare as his face flared red, but didn’t contradict him. Twilight allowed himself to feel a bit of vindication for all the shit his partner had put him through since they’d been assigned this ridiculous mission.

Coach Briar’s face softened in sympathy again. “You two have had such a horrible night. I’m so sorry this happened to you, on Eden property no less. Let me take you to the campus security office so we can report this terrible crime.”

“Uh, that’s quite alright. You already had such a long night yourself, cleaning the locker rooms with your brother. Franky and I can handle ourselves, now that you’ve so generously given us something to wear.” 

Twilight took the chance to venture out from the bushes, aiming to get out of there with some semblance of dignity before Yuri could interrogate them any further. Luckily, the security office was in the same direction as the Brandt estate. They just had to get out of Yuri’s line of sight and they’d be free to sprint back to Demetrius and be done with this godforsaken challenge. If Franky could manage to keep up.

“Don’t think you can get off that easy!” Yuri warned as Twilight passed him in a few quick strides. 

“Oh…oh my…” Coach Briar breathed, and Twilight glanced at her in puzzlement. She was covering her mouth, but her eyes were wide open as they roved up and down his (still mostly naked) body. Franky tiptoed around her the other way, shooting an infuriatingly smug smile at Twilight which Yuri luckily did not see. 

“Sorry,” was all Twilight could think to say as real embarrassment threatened to tint his cheeks pink. Smooth. Real smooth. 

Coach Briar reddened like a tomato alarmingly fast and now there definitely was steam pouring from her ears and the top of her head. 

“Sis?” Yuri reached a hand toward her in concern.

That was apparently a mistake, because all of Coach Briar’s pent-up tension suddenly exploded in a panicked scream and a lightning-fast swing point-blank at her brother’s head. 

CRACK!

Twilight winced and then stared slack-jawed as Yuri’s body flew into the air, spinning like a human-sized top, before crashing to the ground behind the bushes where Franky and Twilight had been hiding. The boy lay there limply and did not get up.

“Holy shit, did you just kill him?” Franky blurted out, and ran back to check on Yuri. 

Twilight had to give him credit. Instead of taking the chance to run, as a spy would have under any other circumstances, Franky had remained in character, or perhaps simply acted on instinct, and sought to help the fallen teen. He found his own feet moving toward his ‘brother’ in support.

Coach Briar shook herself out of her odd trance and looked horrified. “Oh, oh no! Yuri! Are you alright?”

She zipped behind the bushes before Franky or Twilight could kneel down and check for a pulse, and lifted her brother up like a rag doll.

“Oh, thank God, he’s still breathing. No broken bones,” she said in relief, and shifted him onto her back. His arms hung loosely over her shoulders. 

Twilight’s eyes nearly bugged out. That hard of a blow would have killed an ordinary teenager, or paralyzed them from the neck down in the best of circumstances. What kind of superhuman genetics did the Briar family possess?

“I’m so sorry,” she said, hurriedly bowing her head to the two of them. Yuri nearly slid off her back, and she nudged him into position before backing away. “I have to take care of my brother. Please stay safe! Go to the security office right away!”

“Okay, but are you sure you don’t need any help?” Twilight said, still dumbfounded by the turn of events.

“I’msurebyenowLoid!” she said in a rush, and ran away into the darkness so fast that she left a trail of dust and a noticeable trench in the grass.

“What the fuck was that?” Franky mused as he came up beside Twilight. 

“I have no idea. Let’s just get back to the estate before anything else goes wrong,” Twilight answered. For once, Franky didn’t argue, and they booked it to the edge of campus as fast as possible, dodging every security guard they spotted.

Once off campus, they were about to dart behind some bushes again as the telltale sounds of an approaching car reached their ears, but the driver flashed their high beams at them from afar. Shit. They’d been seen. 

Then Twilight recognized the license plate from the mission briefing. It was one of the Desmonds’ cars. He tugged on Franky’s arm and pulled him out from behind the bushes. The car came to a stop beside them and the window rolled down, revealing Demetrius’ butler, Jeeves.

“Good evening, sirs,” the slick-haired man said politely. He took in their appearance without any change in expression, as if this were an everyday occurrence. “Master Demetrius sent me to fetch you. And to deliver your clothes. If you would kindly get into the car, you will find them neatly folded and pressed in the back seat.”

Twilight had never dove into a car faster in his life, and that was saying something. Franky tumbled in after him, and they both threw on their clothes like unlucky explorers of the Arctic Circle coming in from the bitter cold. 

The short ride back to the Brandt estate was uneventful. They trudged up the hill and around the mansion onto the lawn, and only now was Twilight starting to feel the burn in his leg muscles and the blisters on the soles of his feet from running such a long distance barefoot.

Demetrius and a significantly smaller party crowd were waiting for them in the same place they had departed from. His lemur-like eyes blinked in acknowledgement when he saw them, and he brought his slender hands up to clap slowly as they approached. Soon Twilight and Franky were surrounded by thunderous applause and cheers. Elliott, Edward, and several other boys hoisted them up on their shoulders and paraded them around the lawn. Twilight put on his best fake smile and raised a fist in triumph that he didn’t feel. Franky, on the other hand, was whooping and hollering and making obscene hand signs as if he’d won an Olympic gold medal. Of course he was.

“Congratulations, boys,” Demetrius declared when his friends finally set the two of them down. “You just passed round one of The Gauntlet.”

Chapter Text

Franky woke up Saturday morning eternally grateful he’d made it home to his bed. He was lying on top of the covers, not changed into his pajamas, shoes still on, but he’d made it home anyway. The next sensation he felt was intense agony as the consequences of drinking what felt like an entire liquor store aisle came pounding into his head. Franky had had his fair share of nights at the bar, but this hangover hit so much worse than anything else he’d experienced. He’d hoped that mingling with rich people would mean drinking high-class booze, but he’d forgotten he was dealing with teenagers who’d drink anything short of diesel to get drunk.

A sharp knocking at the door sent an ice pick of pain through his head. 

“What?” he groggily mumbled as loud as his dry mouth would allow.

The door clicked open behind him. Franky didn’t bother to raise his head to see who it was. Even in his current state, he could feel Twilight’s judgmental stare boring into his back.

“Get up, we have to go.” Twilight’s stern tone sparked irritation in Franky’s stomach.

“Why?” Franky whined, head still on the pillow, eyes closed. “Where could we possibly be needed on a Saturday morning?”

“WISE headquarters.”

The answer sent a shiver down Franky’s spine.

“It’s hardly morning, anyway,” Twilight continued. “Handler wanted us there earlier and she’s already upset that you slept in. So get up before her mood sours any further.”

He snapped the door shut before Franky could complain again. Not that he was going to, anyway. Hungover or not, he knew better than to defy Handler. He quickly showered and took care to brush his teeth extra well before dressing and meeting Twilight and Norman in the living room. Norman tossed him a water bottle and some buttered toast and clapped him on the back.

“Seems like you boys had fun last night!” Norman exclaimed with a grin. Franky winced at the sound of his voice.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” Twilight muttered as he opened the door to leave. Norman chuckled.

“Well I hope for both of your sakes that you got something out of it.” His voice grew sober. “The boss lady sounded awful upset about something.”

Stealing a glance at Twilight, Franky felt his face grow warm with embarrassment as he recalled last night. Twilight remained calm and collected as usual, although his eyes were sunken in and he flinched slightly when they stepped out into the late morning sun. Maybe WISE’s best agent was a bit more hungover than he let on. It did nothing to calm Franky’s anxiously racing heart on their way to headquarters.

When the three of them arrived, they found Handler in her office waiting for them. She didn't bother to hide her disapproval as they sat down. Instead, she opted to stare them down as Franky shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The silence was unbearable. He wished she’d just chew them out and get this over with already. Finally, she broke the tension, her voice cool and even.

“How was the party last night?”

Twilight cleared his throat.

“Productive. We’ve established a closer connection with Demetrius Desmond,” he replied, “and, as outlined in my report, I was informed of the presence of drugs at the party and that Demetrius is likely somehow involved with them.”

Handler glared at him, her eyes two pits of ice.

“Is that all?”

“That’s what we accomplished.”

Franky had no idea what the correct answer was, but that was clearly not it. Handler leaned forward in her chair, opened a manila folder on her desk, and shifted through its contents. Her movements were slow and casual, but she radiated a seething aura.

“Well,” she said as she flipped through some more of the papers, “the report you turned in does mention that. But, it’s strange, Twilight, because your reports are usually so detailed, while this one was rather vague. Until I got to the end.”

She paused on the last page of the report. Twilight tensed in his chair.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but at the very end it briefly says…” Handler leaned in, pushing her glasses up her nose, and took a good, long look at the report. “…that you were forced to remove all clothing in front of Demetrius Desmond and run to Eden Academy, where you were promptly spotted by two witnesses, one of whom was a faculty member.”

She looked up to the two of them, her icy glare now burning.

“Is that correct?”

Franky’s head felt light and his heart pounded in his ears.

“That is correct,” Twilight answered weakly.

Handler was wholly unimpressed. She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a deep, angry breath.

“Although, in my defense,” Twilight said, “I was not the one who pushed to do the trial last night. I wanted to stay back and observe but my partner insisted that Demetrius Desmond let us do it.”

Franky’s head snapped in Twilight’s direction. Leave it to Twilight to betray him for the sake of preserving his image.

“You’re the one who dropped your pants first,” Franky shot back. “If we’d both refused, then maybe Demetrius would’ve let us do something else!”

Norman placed a fatherly hand on Franky’s shoulder.

“Now, let’s not argue—”

“You were the one who was doing keg stands as soon as we got there,” Twilight argued back.

“And you were the one playing beer pong!”

“So were you!”

“I had to because Demetrius—!”

“Enough!”

Handler slammed an infuriated fist on her desk, startling both men into silence. Her breaths were coming out in short, enraged huffs. For the first time since Franky had known him, Twilight seemed frightened.

“You both got drunk off your asses, violated public indecency laws—in front of minors no less—and risked expulsion if a security guard were to have seen you. And then you left two witnesses—” Handler slowly rose from her desk. “One of which is a faculty member and the other a student council member.”

She towered over the two agents, both of whom instinctively slouched in their seats.

“While you were goofing off, you missed the opportunity to properly investigate the drugs and Demetrius, which I shouldn’t need to remind you, is your job. And as if that wasn’t enough,” Handler tossed a photo from the folder onto the desk where they could see it. “One of our recon agents intercepted this photo from a student who attended the party. Had we not gotten a hold of it, it might’ve started circulating around the student body.”

Franky and Twilight leaned forward, afraid of what they might see. Sure enough, the photo depicted the Brandt estate’s dark lawn as if taken from a balcony, where a blurry crowd of students gathered. On the far edge of the lawn were two figures, white skin stark against the black night. Norman leaned in too to get a look. He whistled.

“Share your back routine with me one of these days, Twi-guy.”

“Now is not the time, Stratus,” Handler growled. Norman quieted and sat back. Handler followed suit and fell down into her chair, completely exhausted.

“What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Franky nervously glanced at Twilight who was three shades of red and fixated on a certain unremarkable spot on the ground.

“If it means anything, ma’am,” Franky began hesitantly, “I think streaking through Eden only improved Demetrius’s trust in us.”

Handler raised an eyebrow.

“If he was suspicious of us before, he certainly isn’t now,” Franky continued. “The trials exist purely for his entertainment. I think it’s safe to assume we entertained him enough.”

“Is that so?” Handler didn’t seem convinced.

“Y–Yes, ma’am,” Franky said. “And…to be honest, we’re lucky that the one staff member who did catch us was Coach Briar. Had it been anyone else, it might’ve been disastrous. So it’s not all bad.”

Handler’s eyebrows rose again, but this time she seemed confused. She picked up the report once more and scanned its contents.

“Coach Briar? The gym teacher?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t…?” Franky quickly looked to Twilight who had shifted his intense glare back at him. He was all but threatening him with his glower. Franky allowed himself the smallest of grins.

Twilight hadn’t included Coach Briar in any of his reports. Of course.

“Well, Handler,” Franky, now emboldened, swung one leg over the other as he reclined back, “Coach Briar seems to have taken a liking to Twilight and, if I may be so bold, Twilight seems to have taken a liking to her.”

“That’s not–” Twilight began but Handler shushed him.

“Shut it. Elaborate, rookie.”

Franky savored Twilight’s desperate sputtering. “It’s a clear case of favoritism on Coach Briar’s end,” he explained. “Twilight performs well in our P.E. classes and she’s taken note of it and always sings his praises. She also heads the after-school mentoring program that he’s a part of and from what I’ve heard they’ve grown quite close through that as well.”

“Grown close is an overstatement,” Twilight swiftly corrected. “I simply stay behind to help clean up.”

“That’s not necessary for the mission, Loid,” Franky said with a smug grin.

“It never hurts to be on the staff’s good side,” Twilight asserted. “Besides, there’s something about her story that doesn’t add up. I’m simply investigating it.”

“Yeah, of course you’d like to investigate the hot gym teacher.”

“That’s enough, you two,” Handler disrupted their back and forth again with a tired wave of her hand. “Twilight, why wasn’t any of this in your reports?”

The agent in question straightened back up as his attention returned to Handler. He was still blushing but he replied with his best attempt at indifference. “I didn’t think it was necessary, ma’am.”

“I taught you better than that, agent.” Handler frowned. “You never know what’s important or not. Don’t omit things just because you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Sure. Whatever, just don’t let your little ‘investigation’ get in the way of the mission,” she replied with a weary sigh. It was only early afternoon, but she looked like she hadn’t slept all night. A likely possibility. “Please don’t do anything stupid like this again, you two. Do not give me another reason to call you back in here to give you a lecture. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Stratus?”

The older agent snapped to attention. “Yes, Handler?”

“Please keep track of your sons. They’re going to be the death of me.”

He grinned. “Of course, ma’am.”

Handler looked totally unconvinced but nodded anyway. She dismissed them before they had a chance to piss her off any further.

—

The weekend was spent nursing hangovers, catching up on a mountain of homework, and teaching more crash courses in music theory. Twilight had long given up on making his fake brother a musical prodigy, but after Handler’s lecture about their shortcomings he was dedicated to at least making sure Franky could manage the basics. And, by the time Monday rolled around, Franky seemed to have improved. He was still hopeless at faster tempos, but the development was there. Twilight allowed himself to reclaim a bit of his pride. He boarded the bus Monday morning hoping that this small, humiliating wrinkle in Operation Strix was behind them.

It was not.

Twilight and Franky typically didn’t draw much attention when they sat in the back of the bus, a spot that Franky insisted they continue claiming despite it not assisting them at all in their popularity. However, as students climbed on, Twilight could feel their gazes linger on him just a bit longer than usual. The little glances continued as the bus drew closer to Eden. It did not help the nervous ache in his stomach at all.

When they got off the bus at school, Twilight’s stomachache twisted further when he saw Yuri. He fully expected him to march up and drag them to the headmaster’s office. But he didn’t. Instead, he was engrossed in chewing out a completely different student for having a wrinkled uniform. When Yuri caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye, he only gave them the usual glare. That was until he noticed the folded jackets in Twilight’s hands.

In a moment, Yuri was in front of the brothers, his face already red with anger.

“You pervert!” he snapped and tore the jackets out of Twilight’s hands. “Why do you have my sister’s clothes? Did you steal them?!”

“I was simply returning them,” Twilight replied. “You and Coach Briar lent your jackets to my brother and me on Friday. Don’t you remember?”

“What? No?”

Twilight did not, in fact, want Yuri to recall the events of Friday night, but Yuri’s alternative explanation of how he came into possession of Coach Briar’s jacket was troublesome. Well, actually, now that he considered it, the actual explanation was also rather troublesome. There was no winning in this situation.

“Seriously?” Franky asked. “You ran into us when we str—”

“—stuck outside without jackets,” Twilight quickly interrupted, “and out of the graciousness of both of your hearts, you gave us yours. It was very kind of you. Thank you. Please return your sister’s jacket for us.”

Yuri stared at them, the bewilderment clear on his face. “That’s Coach Briar to you,” he corrected, but his heart wasn’t in it. He rubbed his head with a wince while he seemed to be thinking hard about something.

“My brother and I need to get to class, so if you’ll excuse us.” Twilight wrapped a brotherly arm around Franky and yanked him away as quickly as was politely possible. They left Yuri standing still on the school lawn, staring confusedly at the jackets in his arms.

“What’s up with that guy?” Franky murmured as soon as they were inside.

“Luckily for us, he doesn’t seem to remember Friday night,” Twilight muttered back. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Coach Briar’s hit to his head gave him some form of amnesia.”

They both shuddered at the memory. The way Coach Briar’s swing had connected with Yuri’s temples, the crack of a fist hitting bone, and the sickening thud of his body slamming into the ground was all too fresh in their minds.

“I still can’t believe that didn’t kill him,” Franky mumbled.

“Based on Coach Briar’s reaction to the situation, that hardly seemed like the first time something like that has happened,” Twilight mused.

“That explains why he’s so weird,” Franky said with a snicker. “I knew that guy had a few screws loose. Turns out it’s his own sister knocking ‘em undone.”

Twilight rolled his eyes while Franky cackled at his own joke. If Yuri truly didn’t remember Friday night, then it was likely no one outside of the two of them and Coach Briar knew about their run-in with each other. And Twilight had a feeling that Coach Briar wasn’t going to tell anyone about it. However, despite their good luck, he still felt on edge. Since the moment they’d gotten on the bus, he’d felt eyes watching them. He noticed when they passed other students in the hallway that they’d turn to each other and whisper, their stares never falling away. It was to be expected after the stunt they pulled at the party, Twilight supposed, but being watched was never a pleasant feeling. What worried him the most were the hushed whispers. The last thing he needed were rumors about him or his brother. Thankfully, he had a reliable source for rumors.

“Why is everyone staring at me?” Twilight asked Chloe as soon as she sat across from him during their advanced literature class.

“What happened to good morning?” she scoffed. “You’re as bad as Yuri.”

Twilight scowled at the comparison to Yuri before he could stop himself. “Sorry. Let me try that again,” he said with a humble nod. “Good morning, Chloe.”

“There you go. Good morning to you, too, Loid.”

“Thank you,” Twilight replied without an ounce of sincerity. “I was wondering why there seems to be so many people staring at me today. You wouldn’t happen to know about that, would you?”

She hummed as she pulled out her notebook and copy of the assigned reading. “Indeed there is a lot of buzz around you and your brother right now,” she said. “Mostly about you, though.”

“If you wouldn’t mind sharing what you’ve heard, that would be wonderful.”

Chloe drummed her fingers on her books as she thought. She gave Twilight a slight smile.

“Why don’t you answer some of my questions first?” she offered. 

Twilight feigned an innocent, confused grin but he wasn’t surprised. Chloe dealt in information, of course she’d like to be paid in it.

“I don’t see what would be so interesting about me, but alright,” he replied with a shrug. He had a feeling she could see through his act.

“I’m merely curious, that’s all,” Chloe said. “For example, which school did you come from?”

“Just the local school in our hometown in the country,” Twilight replied with practiced confidence. “I’m certain you’ve never heard of it before.”

“Try me.”

His mind instantly recalled the small obscure town he’d chosen for the Forgers’ profile as he had skimmed maps of Ostania.

“Riefelde.”

“Interesting,” Chloe muttered.

“Is it?” Twilight asked.

“No, but it’s nice to finally have a name,” she answered honestly. “I’ve only heard the same thing over and over, that you’re from a nameless rural village. Guess that’s what I get for asking Yuri about you.”

“Well, Yuri would seem to be a biased source of information,” Twilight murmured. Chloe smiled and leaned forward with interest.

“Are you really seventeen?” she asked. Twilight gave his best amused chuckle.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “I went through a sizable growth spurt last summer. The family on my father’s side is rather tall, that’s where I get it from.”

“I heard your brother was telling people you were held back a year.”

Twilight held back a choke.

“He said what now?”

“That you were held back in junior high.”

“Well that would hardly make sense because we’re twins,” Twilight said quickly. Franky was a dead man the next time he saw him.

“Well, according to him, he repeated that year because you refused to go to school without him in your class,” Chloe explained. “So out of the kindness of his heart, he was voluntarily held back. How cute.”

“That’s preposterous, the school would never allow that,” Twilight stammered. “Besides, that’s not true, my brother is also not a reliable source of information.”

Chloe laughed and Twilight’s grimace only grew deeper.

“Anyway, I’ve answered your questions, it’s my turn.” He was eager to change the subject. “What are these rumors going around about me?”

Chloe wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, you made quite the show at the party Friday night.”

“You don’t need to remind me.”

“I know, but it’s true.” She folded her arms and reclined in her chair, clearly pleased that she knew more than Twilight. “The rumors are mostly just speculation. People wanna know what’s up with all your scars.”

Twilight groaned internally. In his admittedly less-than-sober recollection of the night, he’d hoped that it would’ve been too dark to see the spattering of lines and divots on his back, chest, and limbs. Looking back, that was clearly wishful thinking.

“The most popular theory is that you were in a gang of some kind, but that hardly seems likely if you’re from a tiny nothing town in the country,” Chloe continued. “Someone else said that you’re actually really old and like thirty or something and that you were in the war and now you’re a member of the SSS infiltrating the school. That’s funny, if you ask me.”

“Thirty isn’t old,” Twilight shot back before he could stop himself. Chloe raised an eyebrow.

“Spoken like a true old man,” she teased. Twilight was stupid, very stupid, for allowing his emotions to get in the way. Although, this girl was being a bit rude. He cleared his throat.

“All I’m saying is that the war took so many young men. It’s lucky to find any man in his thirties,” he explained quickly. “But that’s besides the point. I’m not thirty, I’m seventeen, despite what everyone says.”

“Uh huh.” Chloe didn’t seem convinced. “So how did you get your scars?”

“Acne.” It was the first thing to come to Twilight’s mind.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Severe acne also runs in the family.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “But why—”

“Chloe!” A familiar voice drew her attention away from the conversation. They both turned to see Yuri storming up to their table.

“Oh here we go,” she sighed.

“You missed our morning council meeting! That’s the second time this month!” Yuri dug an irate finger into the table.

“Oh shut up, I told you already I have to meet with Mrs. Kraus before school every week because I’m her student assistant,” she said. “Don’t think I don’t know you sneak out of those meetings early to eat breakfast with your sister.”

As the two argued, Twilight allowed himself a sigh of relief. For once, he was glad that Yuri was there to distract Chloe from their conversation. He’d clearly gotten careless; the constant pretending, taking on the workload of an Eden student, and keeping an eye on Franky was starting to get to him. His fists tightened with resolve. Friday night would be the last time he let the mask slip.

Chapter Text

Franky had been in plenty of life-and-death situations in the war and as an underground information dealer. He knew what it felt like to stand at the business end of a gun with seemingly no way out. 

Right now in the weight room adjacent to the gymnasium, Franky felt the same foreboding chill loom over him in the form of his fake brother, Loid. 

The latter was supposed to be spotting him as he lay on the bench and continued his reps with the 35 kilo bar. Instead, he was glaring down at him menacingly, his hands positioned like he wanted to press the bar into Franky’s chest.

“What?” Franky hissed through his teeth as workout music blared all around them.

Twilight mouthed a couple words. It took Franky a second to read his lips upside down.

Held back?

Oh. That was what this was about. 

It was the best reason I could come up with! he defended himself. Not my fault you still act like a fifty year-old man with the body of a Greek god!

Even though Twilight had to read his lips upside down as well, he understood right away and narrowed his eyes into blue daggers. And here Franky thought the extra compliment would assuage the spy’s ego.

Franky gritted his teeth as Twilight applied pressure downward on the bar just as he was trying to lift it up for the next rep. Of course, the motion was so discreet that no one nearby would notice the petty struggle the brothers were engaged in.

I refuted it under questioning by the school’s rumormonger, Chloe Bernhardt. I was not held back, and neither were you. 

Franky glared back up at his ‘brother’ as beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. Of course Twilight would be offended if his reputation fell short of perfect, even if it were the reputation of a fake teenage boy. 

Fine. I also have a convenient explanation for your scars, by the way. You kept getting into fights and that’s why you were held back. But I guess now–

They’re acne scars.

Franky’s eyes bugged out. “What?” he said out loud.

“And how are you two doing?” Coach Briar piped up behind Twilight. She had been flitting around the room checking on students in her eerily stealthy way. 

The ornery spy jumped and let go of the bar, which caused Franky to overshoot his lift. He might have injured himself if Coach Briar hadn’t caught the bar lightning-fast with one hand.

“We’re fine,” Twilight said, clearly embarrassed at his slip.

Coach Briar nodded and set the bar back on the rack. “Good to hear! Keep up the good work!” she said quickly, not meeting either of their eyes, and zipped on to the next pair of students. 

“Ahem,” Franky said with a smug smile, and sat up to switch out with Twilight. “Your turn.”

Since the start of gym class, Coach Briar had studiously avoided the two of them, her face tinted a light pink whenever she had to look in their general direction. They could at least count on her to keep the Friday night incident a secret, if only out of her natural shyness and embarrassment.

Thankfully, Yuri still hadn’t remembered anything about that night. His sister had even forced him to sit out most of today’s exercises due to his headache.

Twilight grumbled curses under his breath as he retrieved heavier plates and fixed them onto the bar. He settled back on the bench and looked up tauntingly at Franky as the latter took up a spotting position. Franky rolled his eyes. Real mature. Yeah, he knew Twilight was lifting almost three times what Franky had managed. But there was no one to impress around here, except…

“Hey, Coach Bri–!” Franky called. 

Sudden pain erupted in his gut as Twilight knocked the breath out of him with a quick jab, somehow keeping the heavy bar aloft with one hand in the process.

“What?” The gym teacher was back by their side in an instant, looking concerned as Franky gasped for air. 

“My brother’s still winded, it’s normal,” Twilight explained as he casually resumed lifting without a spotter. “35 kilos were a real challenge for him.”

“Oh, is that so?” Coach Briar said sympathetically while the kids around them snickered. “Maybe we’ll have to start you with just the bar then, Franky.”

Franky coughed unintelligibly and glared murder at Twilight’s self-satisfied grin, even as Coach Briar blushed furiously at the sight of the spy’s defined biceps. 

The two weren’t able to talk much during lunch, given they were surrounded by peers who were actually paying attention to them now after their drunken stunt. The other kids at the shortlist table regarded them with a new respect and tried to make small talk, mostly with Franky. Benjamin Brandt was notably missing from their ranks, probably exiled to some no-name corner of the dining hall after his public show of cowardice. 

Franky allowed himself to forget the harsh tongue-lashing from Handler for a moment, just so he could bask in the hard-earned glory of their elevated social status. Yeah, he’d missed almost every shot in beer pong, and he’d dropped his pants in front of all these kids. It was certainly crazier than anything he’d done as a real high school student back in the day. But there was also a sort of daredevil freedom that came with stooping so low and coming out the other end unscathed. And there was no better feeling to Franky than freedom.

“So what kind of fights did you used to get into, bro? One against three? With knives?” one of the boys nudged Twilight. 

“In junior high?” another kid added.

Twilight sighed and shot Franky a pointed glare as he set down his fork. “If my brother told you that, it’s false. Though I do appreciate the fearsome reputation he’s trying to create for me.”

Franky rolled his eyes. Count on Twilight to continue talking like an old man when they’d just gotten in with the cool kids.

“What Loid means to say is, he’s a goody-two-shoes who’d be more embarrassed about being held back a grade than admitting his scars are from acne,” Franky drawled.

A few other kids laughed, but by and large everyone around them looked uncertain and a bit weirded out, not sure what to believe about the two brothers anymore. To his credit, Twilight deftly changed the topic to sports, undoubtedly as part of his ‘investigation’ into Coach Briar, and soon the boys were engrossed in a discussion about their school’s track and field stars. All the while the two of them kept a surreptitious eye on the main prize—Demetrius’ table, for any signs that their target would approach them and offer similar congratulations. But Demetrius hardly spared them a glance. It almost seemed like he was purposely ignoring them. Franky filed that away to puzzle out later.

When band class rolled around, Franky felt more confident after a weekend of intense tutoring. Elliott noticed the difference as well, and during a break for the percussionists, he motioned for him to sit behind the bass drum again.

“Friday was insane, man. Congrats on passing the first round,” Elliott whispered. “You helped me win a bet, by the way.”

“A bet?”

“Edward bet two hundred dalc that you and your brother wouldn’t go through with it.”

Franky choked down his surprise at how casually these teenagers could throw around large sums of money. “Oh really? Well, glad I could help.”

Elliott idly twirled a drumstick between his fingers. Franky wondered if he’d learned to do that to impress girls. Both of them fell quiet for a while as the director stopped the band to give feedback to the low brass.

“Why are you in it, anyway?” Elliott asked once the music started up again.

The boy’s posture appeared nonchalant to the untrained eye, but Franky knew what he was really after. Franky and Twilight were in The Gauntlet to gain Demetrius’ favor, but Franky was also in a miniature version of those trials with Elliott. He needed to stay on Elliott’s good side and ensure he didn’t come off as a threat, or else he might try to sabotage him in some way. 

“Why not?” Franky shrugged. “Loid and me, we went through a lot growing up. The war took a lot from our family, and our mom died of cancer when we were kids. I guess I’m at the point where the normal pressures of school and teenage problems just don’t seem like a big deal. At the end of the day, all the stupid shit we do in high school won’t matter later on in life. The stakes couldn’t be lower right now. So why not have some fun?”

Elliott’s gaze was trained on the spinning drumstick in his hand, but Franky could tell he was still watching him from the corner of his eye.

“What about your brother?”

“What about him?”

“He walks around with a stick up his ass and seems hellbent on collecting Stellas faster than anyone ever has. Why does he want in with Demetrius?”

Franky prayed that this time, Loid wouldn’t retroactively scratch out his story and sow confusion among all their peers.

“Do you have any brothers?” Franky asked.

“No. Just an older sister.”

“Well, if you knew what it was like to have a brother, you wouldn’t need to ask. And even worse—me and Loid are twins. Can you imagine having to compete with another kid your entire life, from the moment you were born?”

Elliott tilted his head in consideration. “You’re saying he wants to compete with you?”

Franky suppressed his knee-jerk indignation at the indirect insult. Naturally, anyone would think Loid was the superior twin in every way. Tall, good-looking, athletic, academically smart. Why would someone like him be jealous of his runt of a brother?

“Hey, you said it yourself. He has a stick up his ass and absolutely no sense of humor. He doesn’t know how to make friends unless it’s with other nerds and teacher’s pets. I’ve always had to look out for him in that respect,” Franky said. It wasn’t even a lie. He was describing Twilight’s real personality to a T. “So yeah, he does feel like he’d have something to prove if I was in The Gauntlet and he wasn’t.”

Elliott nodded slowly and didn’t ask any more questions for a while. They had lucked out today, as the band director continued to nitpick at other students and hadn’t yet moved on to a piece with percussion.

“You should know something before you get in too deep,” Elliott said at last.

Franky subconsciously leaned closer to the boy, sensing that whatever he had to say would go verbatim into the next report to Handler.

“The last kid who tried The Gauntlet, before Brandt. He was a drummer too. The guy whose spot you took.” 

Elliott raised his eyes to Franky’s, his face serious. His voice grew quiet to the point where Franky mostly had to read his lips.

“The school covered it up. Almost everyone thinks he and his family just moved overseas since his dad’s a diplomat. But the truth is, he OD’ed real bad. Fucked up his brain. He’s barely better than a vegetable now, living in some institution.”

Franky realized he was holding his breath as he took in the sobering news. Elliott’s gaze sharpened.

“Not a word of this to anyone. But I’ll let you warn your brother, and only your brother. Demetrius doesn’t fuck around. You want to get in with him, there’s a price.”

Franky nodded, returning the boy’s solemn expression. “I swear I’ll keep it between the two of us. Thanks for the heads up. I owe you.”

An ironic smile quirked the corner of the boy’s mouth, but didn’t touch his eyes. “Never boring, right?”

—

Theater. Other than gym, this was the one class that felt most familiar to Twilight. All WISE agents went through extensive acting training, from breathing techniques and ways of combating ‘stage fright’ to getting into character for a new cover. The goals were to increase an agent’s improvisational skill, endurance for long missions where they couldn’t break cover for days or weeks at a time, and ability to stay calm under suspicion.

In comparison, high school drama class was a walk in the park. Half of the students were there to take it easy, while the other half held unrealistic aspirations of becoming famous actors. A select few might actually make it, but only because of their family connections.

Given the wide spectrum of talent and personal investment among the students, the teacher settled for flexible assignments that were not too challenging to pass while still offering opportunities to shine for the more ambitious kids. The current assignment was to go up on stage and tell a story about one’s own life. It could be funny or sad or philosophical or anything the kid wanted, but it had to be delivered with their authentic voice. The teacher reasoned that only when an actor was comfortable with their true voice could they expand beyond it to inhabit different personas. Twilight found it not dissimilar to his own training. 

As they half-listened to a girl brag about meeting the stars of Berlint in Love at her last birthday party, Franky tapped Twilight on the shoulder and passed him a note.

Band: intel from Elliott

Twilight pocketed the note quickly. Franky continued to surprise him with his sheer luck and, he had to begrudgingly admit, his social skills as a teenager. He wondered how his partner continued to skate through band with bare minimum musical literacy, but that didn’t matter as much in the scheme of things. The ability to elicit intel from one of Demetrius’ cronies was much more important. 

“Loid Forger,” Professor Henderson called from the first row. He was a fit, elderly gentleman with a long drooping mustache and white hair combed back in a neat ponytail. He wore a monocle over his left eye, completing the portrait of a scholarly aristocrat.

Twilight went up to the stage, having prepared his monologue in advance. He’d thought carefully about what Loid Forger’s authentic voice should sound like, the kinds of things he was interested in, and the image he needed to project to win the teacher’s favor and earn that theater Stella a bit faster.

“Hey, I’m Loid. Haven’t met most of you yet, since my brother and I are new,” he said with a casual wave down at the audience of twenty or so students. A few guys who’d been at the party grinned or tried to shoot him some kind of teenage hand signal, but he pretended not to see them. He did not want his teachers to associate him with slackers and troublemakers.

“When I was young, about seven, maybe,” he began, tucking his hands into his pockets as an established habit of Loid’s, “I liked constructing marble mazes. I started with shoeboxes as the base, and made the lanes out of clay or drinking straws. Punching the holes to be a consistent size was a challenge. It was a good way to pass the time after school when my father was busy. Or at night, if I couldn’t sleep, I’d sit up and try to get a marble through a maze I’d created.”

Twilight had never constructed a marble maze. But in his research on children’s games and crafts, he had found this pastime rather interesting. He might try it in the mentorship program to kill time, with the hope it’d keep Anya and Damian from fighting.

“Eventually my mazes got popular in the neighborhood. I made them for friends at school. I especially got a kick out of making really difficult ones for kids who liked to brag. I even added ramps and tunnels. But I never made one that I couldn’t solve myself. I tested them by repeating them enough that I could do them with my eyes closed.”

The story was objectively boring. And it was a commoner’s story. The average Eden kid probably spent their childhood learning horseback riding and vacationing overseas, not gluing straws to shoeboxes. Still, looking out at the audience, Twilight knew he had succeeded in capturing their attention. 

In his initial construction of his cover, Loid Forger was supposed to have a quiet charisma that no one could quite put their finger on. He was confident and determined, without much of the self-consciousness that most teenagers carried. It would give him the versatility to stand out when he wanted to, but to become invisible and forgettable when necessary. ‘Boring,’ as the kids called it.

Unfortunately, that invisibility had been blasted to smithereens by the first Gauntlet trial. And at the rate Franky fumbled around and spewed idiotic rumors, Loid would probably never regain the reputation Twilight had aimed for.

Twilight refocused on the task at hand as Professor Henderson regarded him with an approving smile. At least Loid was still in good standing among the faculty. He’d read Henry Henderson’s profile during mission prep. He was one of the longest-tenured faculty on staff, having begun his teaching career during the first war. He had been due to retire from the history department, but had decided to switch to a personal passion of his, drama, instead. 

On a whim, Twilight changed the planned ending of the story to something a bit more memorable.

“One night I was doing just that. I couldn’t sleep, so I tested out a new maze in the dark. I thought I knew where all the corners and traps were. But at some point as I tilted the box this way and that, I couldn’t feel the marble rolling around anymore. I hadn’t heard it drop, either. I turned on the lights and looked for it everywhere in my room, but couldn’t find it anywhere.”

He hid a smile at the looks of confusion and fascination in the audience. “I still think about that marble sometimes. Even when we moved out of that house, I took one last look around my empty bedroom to try to find it, but never did. And although it’s meaningless, I still wish I knew what happened to it. If only just to know.”

Professor Henderson clapped, and the other kids followed, more enthusiastically than for the students that had gone before. Twilight bowed his head slightly and went back to his seat.

“You told a story about literally losing your marbles. Really?” Franky whispered.

Twilight rolled his eyes and didn’t respond. 

“Frank Forger,” the teacher called. 

“Shit,” Franky swore under his breath. “Forgot I had to go today.”

Twilight smirked as Franky reluctantly got up from his seat behind him and dragged himself up to the stage, hands tucked into his pockets.

“So, uh, I’m Franky,” his ‘brother’ said, shoulders slumped in a way that made him look even shorter.

A loud whistle sounded from one of the jocks in the audience. “The Man!”

Laughter rippled through the group of students as Professor Henderson sternly admonished them. Twilight recognized the jock as one of the boys who had held Franky’s feet for the keg stand, and just like that, his migraine was back.

Franky, meanwhile, seemed to grow bolder from the audience support. It had also bought him a few precious seconds to come up with something to say when he was utterly unprepared. A familiar devious smile spread across his face as he looked down at Twilight.

“So you’ve just met my brother, Loid,” Franky said a bit sarcastically, belying the fact everyone already knew both brothers. “How about that story he just told? Real master class in monologuing, huh?”

He clapped in an exaggerated fashion, signaling to all the kids that they should applaud, and some did.

Twilight did not like where this was going.

“You’d think I’d be good at this too, since he’s been monologuing at me my entire life!”

The kids laughed and cast amused glances at Twilight. He smiled tightly, giving the impression that he had also had to deal with his brother’s shenanigans his entire life.

“But you know what they say, behind every great man is his brother trying to take his ego down a notch!” 

Franky grinned widely and crouched down on the stage, cupping a hand around his mouth as if about to impart a secret while the other hand went back into his pocket. Everyone in the audience leaned forward to listen. Even Professor Henderson smiled faintly, impressed by Franky’s obvious improvisation.

“I have waited. Literal years. For this punchline,” he said slowly. He slid his bespectacled eyes to Twilight. “Bro, all that time you spent contemplating the heat death of the universe over that one lost marble…did it never occur to you that maybe the answer was right under your nose the whole time?”

The entire class watched, enraptured, as Franky produced a small, shiny metal ball from his pocket. Twilight knew his partner liked to carry miniature fidget toys and gadgets around to stave off boredom, so he must have conveniently taken the ball off of one of those. But to all the kids and Professor Henderson, it might as well have been pure magic. The room erupted in delighted gasps and exclamations, followed by rapturous applause. 

Twilight had to hand it to him as he begrudgingly clapped along. Franky really did have a way of making his own luck.

At the end of class, Twilight was about to pull Franky into the hall to hear about the new intel from Elliott, but Professor Henderson stopped the two of them with one hand on each of their shoulders.

“You two are quite the talented pair!” the old man praised. “An elegant duality of personalities and acting skills I have not seen in years of teaching! Tell me, gentlemen, are you planning to audition for this semester’s drama production?”

Franky looked at Twilight, obviously clueless, while the latter nodded with a smile.

Twilight had indeed planned to try out for the school play, knowing he’d easily snag the lead role. It was an Eden tradition that at the final performance, accomplished alumni from the theater industry would attend and deliberate over which student performers should receive Stella stars.

“Yes, Professor, I am. Not sure about my brother, though,” Twilight said with a wry glance at Franky.

Professor Henderson regarded Franky with a sparkle in his monocled eye. “Young man, your performance today has inspired in me a bold new idea for the particular script we’ve chosen this semester. I would like both of you to try out for the lead role at the end of this week. If you give it your best, I believe this new concept will be a truly elegant success not only in the history of Eden College but the wider world of dramatic arts!”

The teacher certainly had a way of overdramatizing everything, but Twilight wasn’t going to protest if it would guarantee him a Stella.

“Thanks, Professor Henderson,” Franky said with a nervous laugh. “Uh…could you remind me what play it is, exactly?”

Twilight, who already knew the play inside out and had memorized the script during mission prep, began to feel uneasy at what the old man’s ‘bold new idea’ might be.

“Why, this semester’s production will be none other than that epic tale of the duality of man and his struggle against his inner worst enemy: Jekyll and Hyde!”

Chapter Text

Yor Briar was an upstanding citizen. The perfect model of an exemplary participant of Ostanian society. She paid her taxes, bought from state-sanctioned stores, and supported her local government. On paper, she was ordinary, perhaps even boring. And that was fine. She was so normal.

However, she was also a feared assassin who purged anti-Ostanian scum from Berlint with the same ease and disgust of peeling gum off her shoe. During the day, she helped raise the next generation of Ostania’s best and brightest, and at night she protected them from the evils that surrounded them. Sure, Yor Briar did live with the persisting anxiety that someone would discover her second job, but she never felt like she was doing something wrong. Murder was bad but she wasn’t murdering—rather, simply cleaning. And there was nothing wrong with cleaning.

But what she was doing right now was wrong. Well, was it wrong? Technically no. But it felt wrong.

You’re just being a good teacher, Yor, she thought to herself, a good, concerned teacher.

However, her justifications didn’t bring a single drop of relief to the fire of guilt and embarrassment burning in her stomach as she searched through the files of student records. She had slipped into the record room when she knew the office workers would be out for lunch and began searching through the file cabinets with quick, nimble fingers. 

Eckhard, Ernst, Evans. No, not quite. Fairbank, Fauser, she flipped through more files while skimming the names. Fitch, Fleiss, Flesch…

Her fingers paused over a file.

Forger.

Yor bit into her lower lip. You’re just being a good teacher, a good teacher, a good, normal teacher.

Before she could doubt herself further, she deftly snatched the papers from the cabinet and began reading. As to be expected, there were two student files under the Forger name. There wasn’t much on either of them, which wasn’t too surprising considering they were both relatively new students, but Yor found the lack of information infuriating. Eden usually did rigorous research into their prospective students, especially ones like the Forger brothers who had transferred in from another school. But, no, the profiles were aggravatingly bare. Their listed hometown was someplace she had never heard of, presumably somewhere out in the country as Loid had mentioned on his first day.

Loid.

His profile revealed no records of ever having participated in any sports. He had a clean record, no previous expulsions or other disciplinary punishments. Her eyes squinted in bewilderment. She’d been so sure of his participation in sports. When Loid told her he’d never done sports, she then believed that the rumor of his involvement with gang activity was true, especially when she saw the multitude of scars dotting his skin. But no. Nothing. That couldn’t be right, because…

…because…

…come on, it was ridiculous to think anything otherwise when one saw Loid Forger, especially when he had been basically butt ass naked in front of you. His broad, sloping shoulders, powerful arms and legs, and strong hips just screamed of someone who frequently exercised. And it made Yor want to scream because she found him stupidly attractive.

He! Is! A! Teenager! Pull yourself together! You’re no better than the pedophiles that Garden orders you to kill! You absolutely idiotic, irresponsible, disgusting pervert! You are not fit to be a teacher! You’re better off turning in your resignation right now!

It wasn’t her fault that he basically looked and acted like a full grown man. His polite mannerisms, quiet maturity, pleasantly deep voice…if she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he was her age. And Loid was so, so kind to her and far more thoughtful than any other student, or faculty member for that matter, she’d ever met before. No one else stayed behind after class to help her put away the equipment or thanked her for putting in extra time to run the mentorship program. Just last week, he’d been so nice and helped her carry some boxes and his smile had been so— No! No, no, no! Stop it! He is a child! The same age as Yuri! Someone whose diapers you changed, you pervert!

Yor suddenly became aware of a splitting pain in her skull. She blinked a couple times to find she’d been smacking her head against the side of the file cabinet in her frustration. Now the cabinet had a forehead-sized dent and her face was an angry red on top of her furious blushing. She buried her face in her flushed hands. She was such an idiot. Worse than an idiot, she was basically a criminal, and not because she was a professional murderer. 

She let out an exasperated sigh. This would not do. Yor looked through the files one last time, hoping that something would explain why the Forger brothers were so unusual, but she found nothing. Her gaze caught on Loid’s birthday. If he was seventeen now, that meant he’d be turning eighteen in two months according to his profile. He’d legally be an adult then. At least then she would feel the tiniest bit better for feeling terribly attracted to Loid Forger, but she’d still die before she acted on her feelings, legal adult or not. Yor just felt disgusting about the entire ordeal. Her guilt only multiplied as she carefully returned the Forger file back into the cabinet.

Now you’re a stalker and a pervert, Yor, she berated herself, Can’t you do anything right?

The sound of voices and the click of heels down the hallway sent a jolt of panic down her spine. She quickly rearranged the file room just as she found it, pushing back in the dent she’d made in the cabinet and closing the drawers. She would’ve liked to have waited until there was no one else around before returning to her office, but it seemed her coworkers found the spot in front of the file room the perfect place to loiter around and chat. Yor clapped her face in determination and emerged from the file room with her best innocent smile.

“Well, good afternoon, Yor!” one of her coworkers piped up with a sickly sweet grin upon seeing her. “What’re you doing on this side of campus?”

“Hello, Camilla. I was just doing some research about which students to recruit for the wrestling team,” Yor replied politely.

To this, Camilla giggled, followed by her other coworkers. Yor frowned. What was so funny about that?

“Did you get that during one of your wrestling practices?” Camilla asked.

“Get what?”

Camilla pointed to her own forehead. Yor remembered the red mark she had gotten from repeatedly bashing her head against the file cabinet just moments prior.

“Y–Yes! I did, um,” she raised her hand instinctively and self-consciously covered her forehead as she felt her blush return. “One of the new students was a, uh, bit overeager and slammed my head into the mat.”

She cursed herself. Why had she gone with that lie? It sounded awful.

“That’s very nice, Yor,” Camilla laughed. “Speaking of which, how’s that mentoring program going for you?”

“Oh, um, it’s going well.” Yor didn’t really understand why she was bringing that up now. “We’ve had to double up the number of mentees to mentors this year, but other than that it’s going smoothly. I’m actually having another meeting today. The students are going to do a craft–”

“We should probably get going now,” Camilla cut her off, her syrupy smile never dropping. “Have fun with all that.”

With that, her coworkers disappeared down the hallway, chattering and tittering among themselves, seemingly amused by something Yor had missed. She sighed a second time, once again frustrated with herself. She somberly shuffled back to her office where she fell into her desk chair, disappointed with her inability to be a normal person. Her fingers gingerly grazed her forehead and she felt the quickly-forming bruise sting—a reminder of her many flaws. 

Yor sank further into her chair with a defeated groan. She’d have to face Loid again after school during the mentoring program. Her fists closed with resolve. She would not allow herself to harbor such depraved, impure thoughts any longer. She would be cordial with Loid Forger, as usual, but she would not engage with him any more than necessary. She would be the very image of professionalism. 

She just hoped that Loid Forger would make it easy on her.

—

He did not.

When Yor opened the classroom door to the All-Stars Buddy Program, she scanned the room full of noisy students before her eyes fell on familiar golden hair like magnets to iron. Loid Forger was once again the victim of Anya’s undivided attention. She was tugging on his pant leg while he patted her head with an enduring smile. The sight alone made her heart melt. Anya was introducing him to one of her friends—Becky Blackbell if she recalled correctly.

“See, Becky? I told you Bondman is real!” Yor overheard Anya announce with the same pride as a hunter posing next to a large catch. Becky stared agape at Loid, her dark eyes the size of dinner plates.

“My name is Loid, Anya,” Loid softly corrected with a kind smile. He looked at Becky. “It’s nice to meet you, Becky. I’m Anya’s mentor.”

Becky’s small face slowly turned red as her mouth uselessly flapped before blurting out, “You’re so hot, are you single!?”

Loid nearly choked and Yor failed to stifle a laugh. He adorably stumbled over what to say next.

“I—I’m very flattered, but there’s quite the age gap between us, don’t you think, Miss Becky?” he stammered.

Yeah, take notes, Yor.

“So you are single!” the girl concluded, completely undeterred. Yor heard him awkwardly laugh.

“No, I’m sorry, I have a girlfriend.”

There was a disappointed tug in Yor’s chest that she shouldn’t have felt but did all the same. She remembered overhearing Yuri harassing Loid over something like that, but she wasn’t sure if she’d misunderstood until now. Regardless, Loid’s courteous refusals were ignored by Becky who immediately attached himself to his other leg. He became flustered as he tried to pry himself free.

“It’s not fair! The one year I don’t do the mentorship program, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen is one of the mentors,” Becky whined. “I should just quit my piano lessons and come here with Bondman instead.”

“Nuh-uh, Bondman is my mentor, not yours.”

“My name is Loid ,” Loid said exasperatedly, “and I need to go speak with the teacher, please let me go.”

Neither girl heeded his pleas. Anya managed to crawl up into his arms like she did last time while Becky retained her grip on his leg like her life depended on it. He looked like a tired dad trying to wrangle his daughters. It suited him.

“Coach Briar?” he called weakly. Her heart jumped.

“Yes, Loid?” She put down the box of craft supplies she’d brought with her and made her way to the trio. He discreetly nodded to the two girls with a tight smile and pleading gaze. She giggled and crouched down in front of Becky who stared back with a pout.

“Becky, you don’t want to leave your ride waiting too long for you, would you?” Yor asked sweetly. If she remembered right, Becky was chauffeured to and from school by a member of her family’s staff. Becky scowled, but loosened her grip on Loid.

“No, Miss Briar,” she mumbled. Yor smiled and cheerfully patted her on the back, gently guiding her to the door.

“Good. Now, travel home safely, Miss Blackbell.”

“Yes, Miss Briar.”

“Bye bye, Becky!” Anya chirped from Loid’s arms, evidently pleased that she had her mentor all to herself. Yor turned back to the little girl.

“Now, Miss Anya, I need help with today’s activity,” she said very seriously. “Could you go to the classroom next door and ask Mr. Moritz if we can borrow some of his pencil sharpeners?”

The girl bowed her head a bit, still reluctant to let go. Loid pulled her closer to look her in the eyes.

“It’s a special mission, just for you, Agent Anya,” he said solemnly. She looked at him with an unimpressed expression and rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a baby, Loidman,” she grumbled but wriggled free from his arms. Loid was once again reduced to stammering as she skipped away to go next door. Yor had to hold back from giggling at how flustered he was.

No! Stop it! Don’t laugh at how cute he’s being!

She caught herself and instinctively took a step back. No engaging with Loid Forger if it could be avoided and that included laughing at how cute he looked when he blushed.

“Anyway,” Loid coughed with embarrassment as he turned back to Yor, “I just wanted to thank you directly for Friday night. I didn’t have a chance earlier today.”

An unwelcome barrage of memories flooded her mind. Friday night. Staying long after sunset to clean the locker rooms. Loid—oh, and Franky, too—in the bushes. Glistening, silky skin, occasionally interrupted by divots and scars. Strong, large shoulders. Smoothly defined muscles— Stop! Control yourself, woman!

“I’ve given Yuri back your jackets but he doesn’t seem to remember the incident.”

The sting of her knuckles against her brother’s skull.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she sputtered to which Loid laughed, a musical sound that made her— No.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked with a pleasant smile. “Between you and me, it’s probably better if he doesn’t remember.”

“I just—I don’t want you to think that I’m some sort of brute,” she quickly explained. Why do you care what he thinks of you? You shouldn’t care!

“Nonsense.” Suddenly, he froze and his eyebrows lowered in concern. “Is your forehead alright? It looks like you’ve got a bruise.”

He took a step toward her and she stopped herself from scrambling backwards.

“Oh! I’m fine! Just a little slipup with one of the new wrestling team members,” she said with a tight chuckle. She cautiously watched his hand raise halfway as if he was about to brush away her bangs to get a better look before he paused. His touch would probably be so soft and delicate as he’d gingerly graze his fingers across her tender skin— No, Yor, he’s not going to do that and you’re not going to daydream about him touching you. Pervert. She almost didn’t realize Loid was talking to her.

“Who?”

“…Sorry?”

“Who did that?” he asked. There was an uncharacteristic edge to his tone.

“Just a new student. It was an accident, don’t worry about it, Loid,” she assured him. He didn’t look convinced because his mouth curled into a displeased frown.

“Well, either way, thank you so much for your help,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do to repay the favor, please let me know.”

“Oh there’s no need for repayment, I was simply helping a student in need.” No engaging with Loid Forger if it can be avoided!

“At least let me help you set up for today’s meeting.”

Stop it, Loid! Why are you making this so difficult?!

“There’s not much to be done today, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

“No, it’s quite alright.”

“Are you guys flirting?” a little voice interrupted their back and forth. They both jumped to see Anya had returned rather quickly with an armful of handheld pencil sharpeners.

“No!”

“We are not!”

The little girl stared at them both, once again unimpressed with what she saw. Loid cleared his throat, his cheeks pink.

“Anyway, if you need help with anything, I’m more than happy to help,” he said as he turned to walk away. “Just let me know.”

Yor felt that tugging in her chest return as he left. She sighed and got to work unpacking and getting ready for the meeting. Hopefully she’d be strong enough to last the rest of the day.

—

At the small table where Twilight, Anya, and Damian sat was a mountain of colorful papers, crayons, markers, pencils, pens, glitter, and stickers. The master spy was currently getting a crash course in children's arts and crafts. Specifically, in making cards for disabled veterans and sick kids, which they would deliver in person to the South Berlint Clinic the following week.

“Why do we have to write cards for sick kids? It’s not my fault they’re dying,” Damian grumbled. “Why can’t we do something actually helpful, like tutoring?”

It did concern Twilight that the child of a world leader seemed to lack basic empathy for ailing children, but he honestly wasn’t very surprised. The elite weren’t always known for their consideration for the less fortunate.

“We are doing something helpful, Damian,” Twilight said as he neatly cut a piece of red construction paper. “The patients will be very happy to receive a thoughtful card as they undergo recovery.”

“I don’t even know any of the kids we’re writing to.”

“If you dislike the idea of writing to a child that much, then you could always write to one of the older patients. Do you know any veterans yourself?”

Damian scowled as he thought. While everyone else was busy decorating their bedazzled cards, he only had a blank folded sheet of paper in front of him.

“I dunno,” he mumbled finally. “I think our butler Jeeves had a brother who was.”

Twilight was once again unsurprised. Of course one of the most powerful families in Ostania had no problem ordering countless soldiers to their deaths while sacrificing none of their own. The fellow soldiers he’d fought alongside were everymen—store clerks, factory workers, manual laborers—if they weren’t just boys like himself. There had hardly been a politician’s son among them. But, of course, Damian didn’t know that.

“Well, it never hurts to show appreciation to a war veteran,” Twilight said, just like a good, patriotic Ostanian would. “Either way, we’ll be delivering these cards in person next week, so you’ll have to make something to give.”

Damian groaned and whined but relented and grabbed a pen to begin writing something. Meanwhile, Anya watched the interaction with a curious gaze. She was being uncharacteristically quiet. Twilight leaned over to check her progress.

“Wow, that’s very good, Anya!” he praised. Her quiet gaze shifted into a disappointed frown.

“Don’t lie, Loidman,” she pouted.

“I’m not lying, Anya! Your card looks really good!”

He was lying. It looked less like a get-well card and more like an abstract mess of unintelligible scribbles and shapes. Even for a first grader, it looked awful. He desperately tried to decipher something from the chaos so he could compliment it.

“You think it looks bad,” she mumbled miserably. Her eyes were quickly growing watery.

“Not at all, Anya! That’s a really nice…flower!” Twilight offered as he pointed to a circular scribble on the card. Anya looked up at him, obviously distressed. 

“That’s a person!” she exclaimed before bursting into a teary mess. The sound of her wails attracted the attention of several other groups, including Coach Briar. She looked to Twilight, her eyebrows raised in concern.

Good going, Twilight. Some master decryptor you are. Idiot.

He scooted closer to the little girl, wrapping one arm around her small frame in an attempt to quiet her cries. Some of her tears fell onto her card in fat drops, further warping her drawings and melting them into one another. 

“Anya, it’s okay,” he murmured. “Anyone would be lucky to get your card. You did a great job.”

“I hate it,” Anya hiccuped.

“Then let’s start over and try again. If you want, I can help you. Would you like that?”

Anya nodded with a loud sniff. He patted her back encouragingly.

“Let’s do that then, okay?”

“Mkay.”

As she wiped her face of tears and snot, Damian let out a quiet snort.

“Stupid crybaby,” he muttered under his breath.

What an annoying asshole.

“Annoying asshole,” Anya grumbled, echoing Twilight’s thoughts. Damian sputtered in surprise.

“A—Anya!” Twilight stammered. “Language!”

He quickly looked to Coach Briar to see if she’d overheard, but she had already turned back to helping another group. Thank goodness. It would look bad if Anya got in trouble for swearing under his care. But thankfully Coach Briar was absorbed in her duties like any other good teacher.

“S’true though,” Anya murmured.

“We’ll get nothing accomplished by calling each other names,” Twilight scolded both of them. “We’re here to learn and make friends, right?”

“I thought the point of the mentorship program was to get mentoring and tutoring,” Damian complained, “but instead we’re making stupid crafts.”

“They’re not stupid, Damian,” Twilight said. However, Damian’s words weren’t lost on him. That was the second time that the boy had mentioned tutoring. Despite being so young, he seemed to put a lot of stock in performing well in school.

“Dumdum Desmond only ever wants to study,” Anya said as she folded a new sheet of paper.

“Anya,” Twilight warned. The little girl jutted out her lip in defiance but didn’t push any further. Twilight sighed. “Damian, if you’d like, I can look over your homework.”

The boy’s eyes widened briefly before looking away bashfully. “I’ll allow it,” he said quietly. Twilight should’ve eagerly accepted for the sake of the mission, but the brat’s entitlement was wearing him down.

“That's hardly a nice way to ask someone for something,” he reprimanded.

“F–Fine, then, don’t!” Damian clenched the crayon in his hand so hard that it snapped in half. He released a string of wholly inappropriate curses to which Twilight quickly shushed him.

“You can help with my homework, Loidman,” Anya said as he drew careful flowers on her card for her to color in. 

“I’d love to, Anya.”

“Good riddance, she needs it,” Damian growled.

Before Anya could snap back with an insult of her own, Twilight placed a weary hand on her shoulder. He was already tired of having to break up their fights. His fatigue must’ve been plain to see because she took one look at him and let it go.

“Well, if you ever need help with your homework, Damian, I’m more than willing to take a look,” he said, “All you need to do is ask. Nicely.”

Damian didn’t reply. He was hunched over his card, seemingly in deep focus as he meticulously placed a line of stickers on his card. But Twilight could see that he was considering it. If all went well, he could begin helping Damian with his homework, which would allow him to invite himself to the Desmond estate under the pretense of tutoring. All according to plan.

He would just need to get the kid to stop hating him.

—

Just like last time, Anya refused to leave Twilight’s side until the bus came. He found himself sitting next to her on a bench outside while they waited. However, unlike last time, Anya was quiet, almost pensive. The silence was a nice break after the noisy chaos of high school, but he was worried something was wrong. Was she still upset at him for calling her person a flower? But if she was, then why had she insisted that he wait with her? 

“Everything’s okay, Loidman,” Anya said, pulling Twilight from his thoughts.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Uh, I mean…” Anya fumbled around her small school bag for a moment, “I just wanted to give you this.”

She held out the first card she’d made earlier, the one that Twilight had accidentally insulted. Together, they’d made a new card that, while still rather messy, was at least legible. He’d caught a couple glimpses of her scribbling away on the old card, but he hadn’t thought much of it.

“Oh…are you sure, Anya?” Twilight asked. He didn’t want to take something she’d put so much work into. “Why don’t you give this to one of your teachers instead?”

Anya frowned. “You said anyone would be lucky to have it.” She blinked a couple times, as if she were about to burst into tears again. “Were you lying?”

“N–No! Of course! I’d be honored!” he stammered and took the card from her little hands. It still had smudged tear stains on it. His heart began to ache in a way he’d never felt before. “I love it! I’ll keep it forever!”

Anya stared at him as he sputtered before breaking out into a wide, mischievous smile.

“Good. You’d better, Loidman,” she giggled, a soft noise that made the ache in his heart multiply.

At a loss for words, he ruffled her hair and laughed along with her.

Chapter Text

“Whoopsie daisy!” Norman said as the sparkly, glue-laden card fell off the fridge again. Franky estimated this was the fifteenth time or so. No matter how many times it fell, Norman or Twilight always put it back. 

Franky couldn’t help but tease his ‘brother’ for gaining quite the fan club, and the latter couldn’t even use his standard ‘for the mission’ defense against it. So far his admirers consisted of at least a dozen teenage girls who fawned over him and wouldn’t give up because they thought he was playing hard to get; Coach Briar of course; and now his six year-old mentee, Anya. 

But Franky had a soft spot in his heart for little kids, and now he knew Twilight did, too. He’d heard about the pink-haired girl in foster care, doing her best to keep up with all the snooty rich kids at Eden. Perhaps Twilight had found a kindred spirit in her. 

Their ‘father’ picked up the fallen card with a good-natured smile, brushed some glitter off his sleeve, and stuck it back onto the door with a WISE magnet. “There we go.”

“Is it really a good idea to advertise the agency’s logo in our house?” Franky mused.

Twilight glanced up from his economics homework, seemed to notice the magnet for the first time, and shrugged. After nearly a week of no new leads, the man looked exhausted.

Monday had been a bit chaotic with the rumors flying around about the two brothers and their contradicting stories. But since then, the chatter had died down thanks to the naturally short attention span of teenagers. The Forgers had climbed a few rungs on the Eden social ladder and were secure in their standing for now. While he’d hit a few hiccups recently, Franky was pretty satisfied with their progress, especially since they’d dodged a bullet with Yuri’s amnesia.

But as he should have expected, Twilight was not satisfied. On the surface, the veteran spy merely stated that they couldn’t afford to get comfortable and let their guard down. Franky knew better. The man was still ruffled by the dressing down they’d gotten from Handler. A spy as good as Twilight probably hadn’t received such harsh criticism in years. He had to feel humiliated that the cause of Handler’s tirade had been a bout of drunkenness and streaking, and his own struggle to pull off a convincing act as a teenager. And, Franky suspected, the fact that he was currently being outdone by a rookie.

Franky had been the one to catch Demetrius’ attention at the start. Next, to secure an invite to the party. Then, to gain the trust of Demetrius’ lackey, Elliott, and to find out about the former student who had OD’ed. And finally, to get them into the Gauntlet. 

Sure, Twilight had come in clutch with a few vital saves, namely fending off the Briars’ suspicions of why the two brothers were on campus stark naked on a Friday night, and overhearing a rumor about drugs on the upper floor of the party. But he hadn’t gotten them much closer to the actual mission objective so far.

No, Twilight had gotten too sidetracked by his obsession (“it’s an investigation!”) with Coach Briar, and his stubborn dedication to ‘Plan A’—achieving Imperial Scholar status as the route to Donovan Desmond. Right now, he was intent on studying through dinner, while Norman and Franky chatted about the upcoming regional football match that weekend.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing your lines for the audition tomorrow?” Twilight said pointedly. 

Franky rolled his eyes. “I memorized most of them already, relax. Besides, Handler told me to slack off and hang out with the ‘less ambitious students,’ remember?”

“That is not what she said,” Twilight corrected. “She said to–”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Franky interrupted with a sigh. “My point is, my strategy is different from yours. I don’t have any hopes of becoming an Imperial Scholar within the mission timeframe, so why bother wasting my time on academics?”

Franky wanted to add that it was probably a waste of time for Twilight, too, but didn’t want to poke the hornets’ nest too hard. Twilight seemed to be in a particularly prickly mood tonight.

“Professor Henderson has a specific idea for this play that involves the two of us. This is an easy route to a Stella. If you mess this up, you’re reducing my chances of getting that Stella as well.”

Franky bit back a retort at how Twilight was always making this about him. Yeah, he was the lead on this mission. He was the one with the illustrious record and vaunted reputation in the world of espionage. But, not for the first time, his arrogance and uptight attitude were getting on his nerves.

“Fine. I’ll go back to my room and monologue at myself in the mirror until I start to sound like you,” Franky sniped, and brought his plate to the sink. “Though if you ask me, my time is better spent trying to get invited to another party.”

“Well, how’s that going?” 

“I’m working on it.”

“Sounds like it’s not going.”

“Boys,” Norman spoke up. “No reason to get snippy with each other. You’re a team, remember?”

“Tell him that.”

“No, he’s the one who–”

“Boys!” Norman raised his voice a bit. “Frank, come back to the table and sit down.”

Franky obeyed immediately. Things were serious if their ‘dad’ started using the formal version of his fake name.

“We cannot afford infighting in this family,” the older agent said, jabbing his index finger onto the surface of the table. “You two are on the same side. The good Lord made you both with your own unique strengths and weaknesses, and it’s not up to you to question why.”

‘The good Lord?’ Was that a metaphor for Handler in her construction of their profiles?

“You both make me equally proud. And your mother would be proud too if she were still here with us today.” 

Norman’s voice cracked a bit at the end. Okay, so maybe that hadn’t been a metaphor. Their ‘father’ could be rather confusing when he randomly stopped differentiating between their cover and reality.

“Now, you, Loid. You’ve been blessed with an incredible intellect and athletic talent—you still need to share that back routine with me, by the way—and you absolutely should continue studying hard for those Stellas. And you, Franky. While you might not be as academically gifted and didn’t get any of my genes for dashing good looks and height–”

“Wow, Dad.”

“–you’re still special in your own way. You possess something very rare in our trade, er, family. You know how to have fun! To crack a joke with the best of ‘em! That’s half of what being a teenager is about. You keep on making friends and making people laugh, and you’ll get voted Most Popular in the yearbook for sure!”

“...How does that help us accomplish the mission, ‘Dad?’” Twilight said. He glanced at Franky, no longer frustrated so much as bemused.

“Well, let’s talk it through. You seem to have hit a bit of a roadblock this week with…which one is it again…‘Plan B?’ That Demetrius boy seems to be ignoring you both?”

‘Ignoring’ was a strong word, but Franky nodded anyway. Despite their heroes’ welcome on the Brandt estate lawn after they’d streaked across campus, the following few days at school Demetrius had acted aloof toward them. No matter how Franky had tried to joke his way back into his good graces, Demetrius had barely reacted, sending a clear message that he didn’t want to interact with him. Franky hadn’t been able to figure out exactly why yet, and neither had Twilight. In the uncharitable corner of his mind, he wondered if Twilight was secretly gloating about it. It might give the spy more time to catch up using his own slow-as-snails strategy.

“Loid, do you have any ideas? Perhaps some advice from your previous experience?” Norman asked patiently. He gave his taller ‘son’ an affable smile, but there was a knowing glint in his fatherly expression.

Twilight paused for an uncharacteristically long moment, as if rifling through reams of mission files in his memory.

“Among cults of personality,” he began, fully dropping his ‘Loid’ voice, “it’s common for leaders to play mind games with new initiates. It’s not just overt trials like The Gauntlet. There are other, more subtle ways of asserting dominance and testing someone’s loyalty.”

Franky was intrigued by the explanation, enough to overlook the fact Twilight seemed to have withheld this knowledge until Norman had prodded him to share it.

“My guess is that this is just another test. Demetrius wants to see how we’ll react when things don’t go our way. Are we going to be pushy or offended, or act disloyally, say, by complaining to our peers? Or are we going to accept his sudden silence as within his rights, and wait for his signal?” Twilight fixed Franky with a serious look. “I told you to stop spreading wild rumors about us and bragging about Friday. Have you?”

“Yeah, I stopped,” Franky said begrudgingly.

“Good. It’s possible Demetrius went silent because of your initial behavior after Friday. Prematurely boasting about gaining his favor.”

“Really?” Franky considered the possibility with a frown. “I didn’t brag per se, it was more like joking.”

“You should try to confirm with Elliott. If the boy trusts you enough.”

Franky nodded. “I’ll try.”

Norman placed his hands on both men’s shoulders. “Good! We have a path forward. Great job working together. Remember, you’re a team! Keep supporting each other through these cult initiation rites, and you’ll avoid the fate of that poor drummer boy. I’d never forgive myself if that ever happened to either of you!”

“Uh, right, Dad. We’ll be careful,” Franky said dubiously.

—

“Rock paper scissors?” Franky offered.

“For the last time, Franky, no,” Twilight said, exasperated. 

The two of them walked at a brisk pace toward the theater classroom, where a crowd of students was slowly filing into a line. The big day had arrived. Auditions.

“Come on, you really don’t think I can play an uptight fancy-pants doctor? I’ve been observing you long enough.”

“Ha. Ha. No, for the last time, I’m trying out for Jekyll. You take Hyde. Just like we practiced.”

“What happened to taking artistic risks? It’d be so original and shocking, it would earn us both Stellas for sure!”

“No.”

“Ugh, fine! You’re no fun.”

The first part of auditions was surprisingly not for the titular role, but for the female leads. One was Emma, the gentle-mannered heiress and fiance of Dr. Henry Jekyll. The other was the troubled red light district woman, Lucy, who would become an obsession of Jekyll’s alter-ego, Edward Hyde.

Twilight and Franky sat in the audience and watched as female students from different grades went up on stage to recite dramatic lovelorn speeches as Emma or Lucy. Their attempts were nothing short of cringeworthy in Twilight’s eyes, ranging from awkwardly stilted to grossly overemotional. It inadvertently called to mind rookie training under Handler’s iron hand, when she had ruthlessly castigated all her trainees (except for him of course) as abysmal failures in acting.

The only believable emotion I see on your pathetic faces is fear! Show a hint of fear and you can kiss your cover goodbye! 

You’d fail a lie detector test ten ways til Sunday! The SSS’ll be onto you in a second!

You lot wouldn’t be able to act your way out of a high school theater production!

How ironic that he was currently acting his way into a high school theater production for the sake of a mission.

Twilight was grateful when the last girl stepped off the stage, signaling the end of auditions for Emma and Lucy’s roles. He had taken careful note of which girls were most likely to be chosen. Naturally, they were the older girls from the show biz lunch table, no doubt trained by professional coaches or even their own parents. One of them was the blonde girl Alicia who had tried to make a pass at him on their first day. 

Twilight’s stomach churned queasily. There was a particular scene in the play where the Lucy character would kiss Jekyll. He did not want to toe the line on the ‘no fraternization with minors’ rule Handler had so strictly laid down, or to violate his own personal convictions on the matter. Given how conservative Eden College and Ostanian culture were in general, he wouldn’t be surprised if Professor Henderson would remove the kiss from the script, or change it to a staged one at the very least.

Several boys went ahead of him to recite Jekyll’s impassioned speech the night of his first transformation into Hyde. Some of the more prepared students had brought a prop with them—a pencil or pen—to pantomime injecting themselves with the personality-altering drug. Like the girls, most of them were either too robotic and self-consciously reserved, or comically overeager, literally flailing about on the stage and shouting out half-remembered lines. The moment of transformation itself was either too abrupt or not pronounced enough, as if the doctor were merely in a grouchy mood. None of them accurately captured the pathos of a tortured man succumbing to the darkest pits of his soul.

Finally, when it was Twilight’s turn, he nudged Franky with his knee as he got up from his seat. His ‘brother’ gave him a thumbs-up and a grin. They’d practiced their joint routine for an hour last night, to the great amusement of their fake father. As Twilight passed the front row, Professor Henderson gave him an encouraging smile. For once, the spy was comfortable stepping out of line and taking a risk, with the knowledge that the teacher was not-so-secretly rooting for him and Franky.

‘Loid’ stood in the center of the stage and shook out his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a brief moment. An anticipatory silence hung heavy in the air as even the rowdy students in the audience fell quiet and gave him their full attention, curious as to what the new kid could pull off. Twilight allowed himself the small indulgence of self-satisfaction as he slipped into the mask of Dr. Henry Jekyll in an instant. He had barely moved, hadn’t even spoken, but when he opened his eyes he could see the looks of awe across the students’ faces. 

“September fourteenth. Three fifty-six AM,” he intoned in another man’s voice, frantic, tense. 

He began to pace the stage. A girl in the audience gasped. Franky shook his head minutely, a knowing grin on his face.

“I have started this alone, and I must finish it alone. I know now that I must use myself as the subject of the experiment.”

Twilight spoke his lines faster and faster after ‘injecting’ himself with the fluid. He paced like a man possessed, waiting for the drug to take effect. Then he let it hit him like a punch, staggering to his knees, struggling to rise, clutching his chest and tugging at his shirt, narrating every painful convulsion and foreign sensation coursing through his veins. Every muscle in his face and body was schooled toward the act. 

“Is this death?” he gritted out. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Franky getting into position. No one else noticed him; they were all leaning forward in their seats, riveted on Twilight’s performance.

He gasped out his last two lines, and in a final contortion of his body, he collapsed backward and made himself all but invisible just as Franky leaped onto the stage with a loud prolonged cackle, to scattered shouts and laughter from their student observers.

Unfortunately, Franky’s voice cracked midway, making Twilight wince. At least it fit his cover as an adolescent barely past puberty.

“I’M FREE!” Franky crowed gleefully, hunched over with his hands extended like claws. A bit too Dracula-like in Twilight’s opinion, but he gave it a pass. 

Franky launched into Hyde’s first monologue with gusto, haphazardly spraying spittle around the stage as he got way too into the role despite fumbling several key lines. Half of the audience was beside itself in side-splitting laughter, and even Professor Henderson had to stifle his amusement behind a wizened palm.

Franky pumped his fist in the air to end his victorious rant, declaring his new identity as Edward Hyde. His chest heaved with exertion as he was clearly out of breath and sweating. But he’d done it. Their audience of fifty or so students jumped to their feet, whooping and applauding wildly. Twilight got up from where he’d curled up on the floor at the back of the stage and came to the front next to his ‘brother.’ Franky grinned at him and held up his hand for a high-five. On a whim, Twilight went through with it. It was what teen brothers would do.

Understandably, no one wanted to audition for the main character after that. 

“Thank you everyone!” Professor Henderson announced after he had gotten everyone to quiet down. “That concludes auditions for the lead roles. Next Monday we’ll hold auditions for supporting characters. Enjoy the weekend!”

—

“Heard you and your brother put on quite the show,” Elliott said as he set up the percussion area. 

The following week, the Forger brothers were once again the talk of the school as word spread quickly about their explosive performance during auditions. Loid’s fan club had doubled in size, and to Franky’s uneasy delight, he’d gained a small female following, too. He’d jumped in surprise the first time a petite wavy-haired girl had glommed onto his arm in the hallway, gushing about how funny and original he was. She wasn’t even a senior, and couldn’t be older than sixteen.

Such interactions had occurred a couple more times at lunch and between classes. What was even weirder was the fact Franky was now actively being measured against his ‘brother’ in terms of dateability and some kind of hotness scale. The dominant opinion was currently that Loid would make the stoic, straightedge, and probably overly possessive kind of boyfriend, while Franky was the sweet romantic pushover type who’d do anything and everything to make his girlfriend happy. The kids weren’t exactly wrong about him, but the fact these were all children fantasizing about two grown men was rather unsettling. Franky never thought he’d regret the day they’d succeeded in selling their cover.

“Thanks! We took a risk and it paid off,” Franky replied as he took the covers off the timpanis. At this point he was familiar enough with the different types of drums that he could pass as a real percussionist for the most part.

“So what’s this mean for your schedule?” Elliott asked. His tone was casual, but Franky sensed there was more to the question. “The play’s a huge time commitment, especially if you get the lead role.”

Franky shrugged and tried to look casual in return. “I’ve got nothing else going on after school. Just thought this would be fun and I should give it a try.”

“Still part of that whole competing with your brother thing?”

“Nah,” Franky waved it off. “Not this time. I’m helping him get that Stella he so desperately wants. And if I get one too, even better.”

Elliott eyed him for a moment, but the rehearsal was about to begin and they couldn’t speak for a few minutes. Once they got a break, they sat down in their usual spot and resumed their conversation in whispers.

“I’m just saying you should be careful about the message you’re trying to send,” Elliott said.

“Message?”

“About how you spend your time. That is, if you’re still interested in The Gauntlet and all that.”

Franky understood all at once. That was right. Demetrius would want to know if they were truly committed to winning a place in his inner circle. Throwing themselves into extracurriculars that sucked up all their time might give the wrong signal.

“Of course I am. This doesn’t change that. He doesn’t want his friends to be total slackers with no life, does he?” Franky said.

Elliott watched him with that assessing stare Franky had grown used to. “He wants friends who are loyal. Who know how to keep a low profile.”

In all their strategizing for the mission, Franky and Twilight hadn’t considered how Plan A and Plan B might counteract each other. They’d have to discuss that.

“Got it. So…” Franky hesitated before figuring this was a natural way to bring up the topic. “Is that why he hasn’t been talking to me since the party?”

“Might be,” Elliott said coolly. “What do you think?”

“Shit, man,” Franky said under his breath. He truly did feel sheepish for acting like a teen with an inflated ego. “I shouldn’t have talked so much. I just got so excited, you know?”

Elliott nodded. “Yep. So did the others.”

Franky waited patiently for more details. After a moment of internal debate, Elliott continued.

“Demetrius has kicked plenty of people out of The Gauntlet for running their mouths and getting ahead of themselves. He’s trying to see if you and Loid are the same.”

Franky didn’t have to fake his look of concern and embarrassment. “Damn. Well, how badly did I fuck up? Anything I can do to get back in the game?”

“Nah. You just have to wait. Demetrius does things on his own time,” Elliott answered, and Franky couldn’t tell if it was the truth or if Elliott was once again testing Franky with one of his own invisible trials. Keeping him in the dark so he’d have to keep relying on him as a gatekeeper.

“Alright. I’ll keep all that in mind. Thanks for the advice, as always.”

Franky made his way to the bus line after his last class, hoping to start brainstorming with Twilight on the ride home, but remembered the latter had some kind of outing that afternoon as part of the mentorship program. He sat pensively at the back of the bus alone, wondering if and how the two of them could keep their strategies from clashing with each other.

Chapter Text

The South Berlint Clinic was a large building made of gray and brown brick near the middle of the city. It was just a few streets down from one of the less desirable districts of Berlint. It was to be expected, however, because many of its patients were older war veterans living off their measly government provided stipends. The clinic had been strategically built to be within close proximity of their patients. As a result, there was a general sense of unease among the mentorship students as the Eden bus pulled up to the clinic. It was likely the first time many of them had ever seen the seedier side of Berlint and as such a wave of worried whispers rippled through the students.

“Can’t believe they’re making us ride these stupid buses like we’re commoners,” Damian grumbled beside Twilight. “This place looks like someone’s gonna pull a gun and rob us. Why did Ms. Briar choose this place? It sucks.”

“Because she’s considerate of the less fortunate, Damian,” Twilight said as the teacher in question began rounding up the students to deboard the bus.

“She should be more considerate of us. This bus smells and the seats are hard.”

“I like the bus!” Anya piped up. She’d been in good spirits ever since they’d left Eden, mostly because she seemed excited to ride the bus with Twilight. She’d chattered nonstop all along the way, telling him about her classes and pointing out birds or people she saw out the window.

“I’m glad, Anya,” Twilight said with another ruffle to her hair.

He was smiling but there was a pit of dread beginning to form in his stomach. The clinic reminded him of the hospital he’d gone to after sustaining that injury to his head—right after meeting Franky in fact. The architecture of this clinic was distinctly eastern but the color of reddish brown brick against the gray sky looked similar to the bombed out school turned hospital where Twilight stayed. It didn’t help that a part of their visit today was to mingle with some of the Ostanian veterans. He no longer felt that same burning hatred towards his former enemies, but he knew that they would have nothing good to say about his home country. This was going to be a long afternoon.

As if sensing his apprehension, Anya grabbed Twilight’s hand as they walked up to the clinic. Her hands were much smaller than his, so it was more like she was grasping his index and middle finger. The simple action caught Twilight off guard, but the warm gesture relieved a small portion of his anxieties. He gently squeezed her tiny hand to which she beamed.

The interior of the clinic only brought more memories of Twilight’s time at the hospital. As a kind nurse ushered them inside, Twilight caught himself glancing down halls as if expecting the dented rusted lockers that were in the hospital in his memory. The days he spent there were only a brief, painful blur, but every once in a while he woke in the middle of the night to his heart pounding in his chest, half expecting to find himself back in his cot. The dread in his stomach grew heavier. He felt Anya tugging on his hand, pulling him back to the present, her expression concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. The girl’s eyes widened and looked away.

“Nothin’, Loidman,” she replied, “just don’t be sad.”

“I’m not.”

“Mkay.”

Twilight made note to request supplementary training from Handler because apparently he’d gotten so easy to read that a six year old could see through him. He forced himself to push away his discomfort and began to assess his surroundings. It was clear to see that this facility didn’t have nearly as much funding as some of the other hospitals in Berlint. The usually boisterous group of students was silent. Their worried gazes flicked from rooms full of coughing patients to an unconscious man being pushed by a team of tired nurses on a scuffed gurney. It was a grim sight. He was also beginning to wonder along with Damian why Coach Briar had chosen this hospital of all places to visit.

Coach Briar was at the front of the group, smiling and chatting with the nurse who was guiding them through the hallways, seemingly unbothered by the disease and death unfolding all around her. As usual, she was an anomaly that Twilight had no idea where to begin with. Keeping with his investigation of her, he’d continued observing her during gym class, wrestling practice, and the mentorship program. All things considered, they spent a noticeable portion of every day in each other’s presence. During it all, he observed her to be professional, if not a little distracted from time to time. There were some moments where she seemed a bit jumpy or guarded around him, but he wasn’t sure whether he'd done something wrong or to simply chalk it up to her eccentricities.

He watched her turn back and do another count of the students to make sure they were all together. As she did, her fingers absentmindedly brushed her bangs aside, revealing the faint yellowish remains of a bruise on her forehead. Twilight felt his fists tighten of their own volition. He didn’t completely buy her story of one of the wrestlers slamming her onto the mat. It was more than obvious that she was as strong as the entire team combined. During practices, he watched with equal parts alarm and awe as she gracefully demonstrated locks and takedowns without breaking a sweat. A few brave students—or, as Twilight had determined, cocky brats looking to feel her up—had challenged her to a match, which she made quick and easy work of with a cheerful smile. Just to be sure, Twilight had spoken to some of the wrestling team members to ask if they’d remembered Coach Briar sustaining an injury from practice. He’d only gotten no’s in response.

“Dude, I thought you were gonna kill that guy,” Franky had said after he’d listened to Twilight speak with one of them. “If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought you were interrogating a terrorist or something.”

“What? I was just asking him a couple questions,” Twilight replied.

“Yeah, and I’m repeating high school just for fun,” Franky snorted back. “You gotta chill out about Coach Briar. Yuri’s gonna have your head if you keep this up.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Whatever.”

Twilight knew exactly what he meant. If their roles were reversed and Franky was investigating a certain teacher or student who didn’t directly pertain to the mission, he would’ve scolded his protégée for getting sidetracked and told him to stop lying to himself. However, something about Coach Briar bothered Twilight. Just the other day he’d noticed during gym class that she had a deep scratch stretching from behind her ear to the back of her neck. When he’d asked her if she was okay, she’d stammered an excuse involving a kitchen knife—a kitchen knife? What had she been cooking to get a cut on her neck?—and assured him all was well. After that, she’d begun wearing high collared jackets to school.

He knew it was not all well. She was hiding something. His usual assumption in these situations was a violent boyfriend of some sort, but he doubted this for two reasons. One, Coach Briar hadn’t mentioned a partner of any kind. Two, Twilight knew that she and Yuri lived together. And, knowing Yuri, he would scare off any suitor, abusive or not. Regardless, it angered Twilight to think of someone, boyfriend or otherwise, putting their hands on Coach Briar and harming her. From all his investigation, he’d found her to be sweet, considerate, and patient; there was no reason for anyone to hurt her.

“Loidman.”

A familiar tugging on his hand once again broke up his thoughts. He was spacing out much more lately.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Anya scolded.

“Am not,” he muttered back.

They were in one of the clinic’s common rooms, a large space with a low ceiling and sparsely decorated with faded paintings of seasides and wilting potted plants. Scattered all across the room were tables at which rather miserable-looking patients—children and war veterans alike—sat mingling with awkward Eden students. He was seated at a table with Anya, Damian, and two patients. Both children had mercifully chosen to write to younger patients, thus sparing him from having to interact with his former enemy. Twilight glanced around the room, wondering if he’d ever encountered some of the grizzled veterans on the battlefield. Probably not, but there was always a chance. It’d already happened once by meeting Franky.

Beside him, Anya suddenly sat up straight in her chair. She and Damian had already exhausted all possible conversation routes with their respective patients. The latter had been surprisingly polite but was clearly annoyed about the whole ordeal. An unbearable awkward silence had fallen on the table, despite Twilight’s best attempts at breaking it.

“Is everything okay, Anya?” he asked the little girl. Her eyes were glued on the door leading back into the hallway.

“She’s always like that,” Damian grumbled. Usually Anya would’ve had a retort for him, but she didn’t seem to hear him. The two other children at the table watched her in confusion. Her eyes grew wide.

“Uh! Uhm!” she blurted out, “I gotta go, uh, use the bathroom!”

Before Twilight could stop her, she bolted out of her chair and darted towards the door.

“Anya, you have to have a chaperone—!” Twilight called after her but she was already out of the room and in the hallway. He looked back to Damian and the other children who stared in bewilderment. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and sighed. “Just stay here, I’ll be right back, okay?” They nodded.

He took off after Anya, keeping his pace at a light jog so as to not alarm the confused nurses he passed. He spotted the little girl down the long hallway, far past where the bathrooms were.

“Anya, the bathrooms are over here!” he yelled, but she didn’t stop.

“Um, I can’t use those!” she shouted back before turning the corner.

Suspicion began to brew in the back of his mind. Her footsteps were panicked, far more so than a child trying to keep from wetting themselves. He chased after her, allowing himself to pick up the pace to a slow run. Anya was sprinting now as fast as her short legs would take her. She skidded to a stop in front of two large double doors. Just as Twilight was beginning to catch up with her, she pried open the doors and slipped inside.

He followed after her through the doors to find himself in the clinic’s rehabilitation pool. The large room held several pools where therapists were leading small groups of patients through therapeutic exercises. At the sight of Twilight, several of them raised an eyebrow in confusion. He quickly scanned the room before spotting Anya’s familiar pink hair by one of the pools on the far end. She was crouching over the side, peering into the deep end.

“Anya—”

She leapt into the pool headfirst.

“Anya!”

Ignoring the baffled calls of the therapy instructors, he rushed to the poolside and looked into the rippling blue water. He could barely make out the billowing shape of her black uniform and dancing light hair in the waves. There was something else in the water underneath her, a second form farther down. The warped image of them in the water became disrupted as air bubbles surged to the surface. 

Twilight acted on instinct. He dove into the pool, ignoring the shock of cold water rushing against his skin. Through his blurry vision, he could more clearly see a flailing Anya and a second child, a boy, closer to the bottom. He swam down through the dark water with powerful strokes, feeling the pressure squeezing against his ears, and scooped the boy up with one arm. The child was worryingly still in his grasp. With the boy secured against his hold, Twilight pushed off the bottom of the pool towards the surface. As he passed Anya, he reached out, grasping her wrist and pulling as he furiously kicked upwards.

He broke the water’s surface with a loud gasp, ensuring that both children had made it with him. As he paddled to the pool’s edge, a small crowd of patients and instructors formed around them.

“Are you alright?” one of the instructors called, “What happened?”

Water poured off Twilight as he pulled himself and both children out of the pool. The crowd made room as he laid them down.

“I’m not sure, but we need someone to come check on these kids to make sure they’re okay,” he replied as he got to work.

Anya was a coughing mess, spitting up water, and shaking uncontrollably, but conscious. Twilight kept an eye on her while he checked the boy’s pulse. It was faint but undeniably there. Twilight breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ken? Ken!”

An instructor pushed through the onlookers and fell to the boy’s side just as he began to open his eyes.

“I was looking everywhere for you! What happened?”

The boy, Ken, now awake, began hacking up water and started to cry.

As the instructor comforted him, Twilight turned his attention to Anya who seemed to finally be regaining her breath. He caught sight of Damian in the crowd, watching her with large, concerned eyes as she coughed.

“Damian,” Twilight called. The boy jumped at the sound of his name. “Go get Coach Briar and some of the nurses, okay?”

Damian hesitated for a moment, undoubtedly considering snapping at Twilight for having the nerve to give him orders, but decided against it and nodded before he took off running. While he did that, Twilight took a towel from one of the patients and draped it around Anya. She clutched the fabric with shivering fingers. He curled an arm around her to warm her up. Even though the thick air of the room was warm, the chill of the water seemed to wrap around his bones.

“Are you alright, Anya?” he asked. The little girl nodded. “Good.”

Twilight took a deep breath, pushed his wet bangs out his eyes, and looked directly at the little girl.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said harshly. “If I hadn’t gotten to you in time, you and that boy could’ve drowned. That was incredibly reckless of you.”

Anya nodded silently, but moisture that wasn’t from the pool began to gather in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Loidman,” she whispered. Her voice was heavy with the threat of tears. “I just saw that kid in the pool and tried to help.”

He sighed and pulled her close.

“It’s okay, Anya. I’m just glad you’re safe.” He thought for a moment and then asked, “How’d you know that kid was drowning?”

Anya stiffened ever so slightly in his arms. “I…heard him? I dunno,” she said weakly. Twilight wasn’t exactly sure how she could’ve possibly heard the boy fall into the pool from across the hospital, but he was suddenly too tired to care. All in all, the whole ordeal had only lasted a few minutes, but Twilight felt as though he’d just finished a long mission.

“Let’s just hope we don’t get in trouble for leaving the group,” he murmured wearily.

—

They did not get in trouble for leaving. Quite the opposite, actually.

“You better not rub this in,” Franky muttered as the two left the main hall at Eden.

“I would never dream of doing such a thing,” Twilight answered. Despite that, he felt pride swelling in his chest and his footsteps were a little lighter.

It seemed that the boy from the clinic, Ken, had fallen into the pool while his instructor was changing. Due to the injury to his legs, he was unable to swim and quickly sank to the bottom of the pool before anyone could notice. That was until Anya, and shortly thereafter, Twilight, had come to his aid.

Ken’s parents had insisted that Twilight and Anya be rewarded for their good deed. At first they’d offered money, which Twilight quickly refused to Anya’s complete dismay. The next best thing they determined was to nominate them for a Stella star, which Eden Academy wholeheartedly obliged. As such, there had been a school-wide assembly in which the headmaster himself presented Stellas to the pair in small black velvet boxes. Twilight and Franky were just now leaving said assembly in the stream of chattering students. Many of them, mostly blushing girls, glanced at Twilight, allowing their admiring stares to linger. A few of the braver girls even shyly approached him to congratulate him directly, much to Franky’s amusement and Twilight’s embarrassment.

“Loidman!”

Twilight barely had time to turn around before being tackled by Anya, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

“We got stars! We’re matching!” she exclaimed.

“That we are,” Twilight chuckled. He ignored Franky’s smug grin. Instead, he noticed Damian was not too far away with some of Anya’s friends, including that Blackbell girl. The little boy watched Anya with envy as she waved around the box containing her Stella.

“Can you clip the star on my uniform, Loidman?” she asked a bit more hesitantly when she pulled back to look at him.

That aching in Twilight’s chest returned. In Eden’s tradition, it was usually parents who pinned Stellas to their children’s uniforms.

“I’d be happy to, Anya.”

He opened her box and carefully extracted the Stella star with delicate fingers. It brilliantly reflected the golden afternoon rays. He knelt down before Anya, who bounced up and down slightly in anticipation as he reached to clip it to her uniform. When the star was attached, she squealed with delight and latched herself onto his neck for a hug.

“Now me! Now me!” she shouted. “I wanna put your star on you!”

Twilight forgot that he technically had a father, Stratus, to put on his Stella for him. It would’ve made sense to follow Eden’s tradition, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t say no to Anya. He patiently helped her undo the clasp on the back of the star and guided her to the right spot on his uniform. As Anya fumbled with the clip against the fabric, an unwelcome memory resurfaced in Twilight’s mind.

When he was a boy, his family once went to a wedding. He couldn’t remember much of it, only his mother laughing and telling him to keep still as she helped him put on his tie. Back then, he’d only giggled as his mother tightened the knot. Little did he know then that more than a decade later his commanding officer would be fastening a medal to his chest for his act of bravery for rescuing a fellow soldier from no man’s land. A few years after that, the woman known as Sylvia Sherwood would affix a WISE pin to his suit lapel before sending him on his first mission.

This moment between Twilight and Anya as she managed to clip the star to his chest somehow felt more important than the medal or pin. It felt more like his mother putting on his tie. It was a dangerous feeling, one that tugged terribly on his heart and almost made his throat close up, but he allowed himself this one time to bask in it.

“There!” Anya declared as she stepped back to admire their shared stars. Twilight shared her enthusiastic smile. “Don’t we look cool?”

“Yes, very cool,” Franky agreed with a sly tone and an elbow to Twilight. “Like this, you guys look like you could be related. Brother and sister. Ooh, or father and daughter.”

Twilight shot Franky a dangerous look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Franky,” he muttered.

“I’d be happy if you were my brother or papa, Loidman,” Anya sang as she marveled at the star on her uniform. 

Twilight wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He knew forming such a strong bond with a child was stupid when the child in question desperately needed a parent figure and that his mission was temporary. She deserved someone who would stick around.

“Thank you, Anya,” he said finally. “Why don’t you say hello to your classmates? I’m sure they’d like to congratulate you, too.”

Anya opened her mouth to protest but decided against it. She skipped away towards Becky and Damian, who were in the middle of an argument from the looks of it. As she left, Franky clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“That’s cold, man,” he mumbled. “She basically just asked you to adopt her and you sent her away.”

“That’s not what she said,” Twilight muttered back. He straightened his posture and smoothed out his uniform. “Besides, after Operation Strix, I will leave and our paths will never cross again. I can’t let her get attached to me.”

“Is she the one getting attached or are you, Loidman?”

“She is.”

“Yeah, alright.”

This whole incident was simply just a step forward in his mission, Twilight convinced himself. He would continue to earn Stellas and keep his eyes on the long term goal of becoming an Imperial Scholar to get close to the Desmonds. He would not allow himself to get distracted, whether those distractions were strange gym teachers or funny little girls. That was all there was to it.

Chapter Text

“Twi-guy! My man! I can’t believe we’re finally going out for drinks!” Norman shouted in his ear over the loud din of the bar. 

“Dad! Call me Loid!” Twilight hissed as he took a quick glance around. Thankfully none of the patrons or staff had taken any notice due to the neck-and-neck football match blaring through the radio all around them. 

When Twilight had gotten home with the Stella star fixed to his uniform, Norman had acted the part of a proud father and hugged him fiercely, even though no one was around to see it. The ‘brothers’ had given each other puzzled looks over the older agent’s shoulder and shrugged it off as another indication of Stratus’ deep commitment to the cover. As soon as the weekend arrived, however, Norman had insisted that the three of them go out to celebrate. It was not the first time Stratus had invited the overworked spy out for drinks, but it was the first time Twilight had ever accepted. 

“Come on, let an old man treat his hardworking sons to a night on the town! You both deserve it!”

As usual, Franky had gotten way too excited at the prospect of drinking on someone else’s tab. He also knew nearly every legal and illegal establishment that served alcohol in Berlint, and quickly picked a sports bar in a working class neighborhood so that the chances of running into a classmate or their family were slim to none.

They seated themselves at a round table in the back with a good vantage point to observe everyone coming in and out. Despite repeated prodding from his fellow agents to loosen up, Twilight remained vigilant. The point of this trip was merely to solidify their cover as a middle class family, not for personal enjoyment. It would be normal, he acknowledged, for a father to take his son out to celebrate a hard-earned award at such a competitive school. 

His vigilance paid off as he was the first to spot the new visitor who entered the bar alone, wearing dark, modest clothing and moving with nonchalant grace. Said visitor adjusted their wide-rimmed glasses under their platinum blonde bangs—a stylish, very natural-looking wig—and made their way to the back where the Forger family sat.

Twilight met Handler’s eyes and gave her a slight nod as she placed one gloved hand on the surface of the table. Norman and Franky looked up in surprise and gawked. 

“Uh, good evening, miss? Ma’am?” Franky ventured, ever clueless when it came to the opposite sex. Sylvia’s disguise made her appear ageless, as usual. She could be an erudite woman in her late twenties with more conservative taste in clothing, or a woman in her forties who kept up a flawless skin routine and exercise regimen.

Norman grinned and patted the seat beside him. “Well, well! If it isn’t the missus finally deciding to join us! Have a seat, honey!”

That managed to break Handler’s graceful demeanor. A vein pulsed in her forehead as she gripped her handbag tightly and moved to the other side of the table, away from WISE’s oldest operative. Twilight shifted aside so she could sit next to him instead.

“Fancy seeing you all here, Loid, Franky.” She glanced at Norman with a bit of a curl to her lip. “Uncle.”

Norman drew back and put a hand on his chest as if wounded. “Ah! Straight through the heart as always.”

If anyone asks, I’m your cousin from out of town, Handler mouthed to all of them with a glare. Sarah Samuelson.

“Right. Er, good to see you again, Sarah,” Franky said awkwardly. His loyalties seemed torn between their fake father and their collective boss.

Sylvia cast her world-weary gaze over the collection of empty glasses at the edge of the table. “I see you’ve wasted no time celebrating tonight.” On WISE’s tab, no less.

Twilight hid a grimace behind the affable, embarrassed smile of Loid Forger. “Oh, well…Dad insisted that we go out. I tried to tell him we should save money, but…Stella stars at Eden aren’t easy to come by.”

“Hm, yes, you must have worked really hard for that one,” Sylvia drawled, and threw an arm around Twilight’s shoulders, the very picture of an older sister teasing her younger brother.

Only with his years of practice did Twilight manage to suppress a blush of true embarrassment. He hadn’t forgotten the fiery lecture she’d subjected them to last time, and he knew better than to think earning one Stella would get him back into her good graces. Especially since he’d only achieved it by a stroke of pure luck.

“So, tell me cousin, what’s your plan to get the remaining seven? If you have a plan, that is.”

Twilight did not miss the edge of challenge in her tone. Next to him, Franky looked like he wanted to interject, but was too afraid to test Handler’s patience. Norman gestured to a waiter to fetch a drink for their new guest.

Twilight cleared his throat and was grateful when she withdrew her arm from his shoulders. “I’m confident I can earn four through my classes—literature, economics, science, and math—during midterms or final exams. One through theater, which I think you already know about; my brother and I were just selected as the lead roles in the play. And another one through sports. I’m joining wrestling because it’s an individual sport where I can better control the outcomes.”

“Also, Loid sucks as a team player,” Franky muttered. Twilight elbowed him hard. “Ow!”

“That leaves one more, which I can achieve through a variety of methods. Another act of community service, perhaps. Or I could join another solo sport, like tennis.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you’d love to do more sports,” Franky sniped, but flinched when Twilight moved his arm threateningly.

“I’d considered asking for some tutoring from you, Sarah, but you’re so busy with your job, I couldn’t burden you with that,” Twilight continued while mouthing in code-speak, we could stage another act of heroism using WISE agents, but it would look suspicious so soon after this one.  

Sylvia nodded, her eyes sharp behind her pleasant smile. “I am indeed rather busy. But I always have time to give my dear cousins advice on how to excel in school. Our family’s future rests on your shoulders, after all.”

Again Twilight had to suppress any nervous tics under his superior’s calculating gaze. Franky ducked his head, while Norman patted him on the back reassuringly. 

“Have you thought about what you’ll do once you’re an Imperial Scholar? I imagine Uncle will throw you an exorbitant party,” Handler said, casually leaning back in her seat.

Twilight half-expected Franky to make another passive-aggressive remark out of bitterness at being excluded from Handler’s consideration, but to his credit, he stayed quiet and kept his expression neutral. Handler wasn’t even looking at Twilight anymore. Her attention was now on Stratus. The older man straightened up and nodded.

“I sure will! Loid works so hard, he deserves a party whether he gets those fancy robes or not!”

Sylvia’s smile tightened, but Stratus merely laughed. In the back of his mind, Twilight admired the senior agent for consistently having the balls to poke fun at their superior and somehow escape unscathed each time. Maybe seniority really did matter, but Twilight could not imagine himself acting with such blatant unprofessionalism toward Handler no matter how many years they would work together.

“At the first Imperial Scholar mixer, you’ll have to be there and mingle with other parents, Uncle,” Sylvia pressed. “Most of whom look down their noses at families of humble origins like ours.” You better have a plan to approach Donovan Desmond. You have one shot per semester.

That was right. The main value of having an older, experienced agent like Stratus pose as their father was to establish initial contact with the primary target. It would appear odd if a mere student like Loid were to approach Donovan Desmond and strike up a conversation. Only after Norman Forger became acquainted with the Desmond patriarch would it make sense for Twilight to then impersonate Norman and attempt to make further contact. 

“If I may, Ha–I mean, Sarah?” Franky raised his hand meekly. Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “Uh, well, I think we can, uh…I mean Dad can…” 

The rookie fumbled through a string of painfully nonsensical sentences while mouthing, I think we should bank on Plan B as the most flexible approach. That way, since we’ll be Demetrius’ friends, he’ll be more likely to introduce us to his father at the mixer, if not before then. Or he’ll just invite us over to the mansion where we can snoop around.

Handler looked skeptical. “It seems like you two have fallen in with a rather uncouth group of friends. Are you sure you’ll be able to stay out of trouble?”

She didn’t need to code-speak to get her meaning across. Since the streaking incident, her opinion of Plan B had soured considerably. 

“Aw, they’re not so bad once you get to know ‘em!” Franky said. He’s into drugs. We can catch him red-handed!

Handler regarded the overeager agent with disdain and dispensed sisterly advice while mouthing, Need I remind you that our government couldn’t care less about reckless Ostanian teenagers getting high? The point is to uncover how the drugs are getting over the border to the reckless teenagers in our own country.

Franky was a bit cowed, but still looked determined. But what if Demetrius is dealing out of his father’s supply?

What if he is? 

Uh…but…wouldn’t that prove… Franky seemed lost.

Twilight filled in the blanks for him. Donovan Desmond does not want his own countrymen, much less his own son, to be addicted to drugs. If Demetrius is indeed dealing at the school, it must be behind his father’s back. I doubt Demetrius will know much about his father’s dealings overseas.

Franky shrank back, chastened. “Oh…I guess so.”

“The mentorship program is another promising activity,” Twilight changed the topic. There’s a Plan C. Damian. The boy wants tutoring and if I play my cards right, it’s another way to get invited onto their property so we can look for evidence.

They spent another round of drinks hashing out the main prongs of their approach until Sylvia was satisfied. I want a comprehensive risk analysis of Plan B and this ‘Gauntlet’ business before you proceed further with it, was the last order she gave.

As she got up to leave, she raised her glass for an unexpected toast.

“Congratulations again on your first Stella, Loid,” she said as their glasses clinked. Her steely smile softened for the first time that evening as she looked down at her best agent. “You did well, saving those two kids. Keep up the good work.”

The following week, Twilight judged that he was ready to join the wrestling team. His rib was sufficiently healed and no longer throbbed under strenuous exercise.

Whether or not it would fracture again when he went up against Coach Briar was another matter. Every session he’d observed, she’d put her abnormal strength on full display. He had witnessed several alarming close calls where she had checked her strength in the nick of time to avoid dislocating a student’s limb or straight-out breaking bone. The fact that these kids stayed on the team and persevered through life-threatening practices every week said something about their dedication to the sport. Or to ogling Coach Briar.

Today she was giving demonstrations of throw-bys and slide-bys, which were a welcome relief for everyone. Twilight had used such techniques in close combat where he and his opponent were both bereft of weapons, relying on his quick reflexes and mastery of deception to maneuver behind the enemy in an instant.

The other students looked wary as he stepped forward to join them and paired off with one of the kids he had questioned the other day about Coach Briar’s injury. Even though he was tall and reasonably fit, the boy carried himself with the self-conscious slouch that Twilight had observed in many teens, as if their bodies had outpaced their mental maturity in a sudden growth spurt.

Twilight went easy on the kid as well as every other partner he was assigned, deciding to do Coach Briar a favor and subtly assist the students in learning the moves by example. Meanwhile he let his mind drift to mission strategy.

Elliott had warned Franky that Demetrius wanted friends who were loyal and low-key, who prioritized his whims above their scholarly ambition. Predictably, Franky had then argued to drop Plan A and go all-in on Plan B.

But Twilight didn’t think that academic excellence was incompatible with socializing with their target. After all, Demetrius and most of his current inner circle were Imperial Scholars themselves. Franky had probably filtered the kid’s advice through his own biased perspective. He just wanted another excuse to slack off and relive high school on his terms.

They could keep both paths open as long as they were careful. Twilight did not want to be caught off guard again and at the mercy of his partner’s stupid decisions whenever Demetrius decided to resume the trials. Thus, he had created a list of 862 possible challenges that the boy might throw at them as part of his analysis for Handler.

He had categorized them as follows: academic failures, rebellion against authority, vandalism and property damage, harm to the general population, and harm to an individual.

First were the academic failures. Knowing how much Loid cared about Stellas, Demetrius might make them cheat on a test, purposely flunk a test, or embarrass themselves in class perhaps by screwing up a speech or a science experiment. Twilight had done the calculations. He could afford to fail one test per class and still manage to get an A at the end of the semester by doing extra credit.

Twilight was still far from assembling a comprehensive psychological profile of Demetrius, but the boy clearly had the urge to prove himself through disregard for authority. It could not have been easy growing up with the former Prime Minister as his father and being held to an impossibly high standard of excellence in all areas. The existence of The Gauntlet and the rumors that he was involved with drugs revealed his outsized rebellious streak.

And so, the ‘rebellion against authority’ category included trials such as forcing Franky and Loid to prank a teacher or, like one of their predecessors in The Gauntlet, to break into a teacher or administrator’s office and steal their belongings. Twilight was not too worried about this. He was a master at stealth missions. And if Demetrius wanted them to cause trouble publicly, he could try to make Franky do most of it, since he wasn’t in the running for Imperial Scholar.

Vandalism and property damage were the next step up in risk. Most of the time such acts were done under cover of darkness, which again played to Twilight’s favor. They might have to spray graffiti on the side of a prominent building or deface the statue of the school’s founder. They might even need to steal a car and stage an accident. Such crimes were obviously punishable by jail time in Ostania. Twilight was still confident he could pull it off, though it would be personally distasteful. 

Then there were acts intended to cause harm to the general population at Eden. It could be anything from poisoning the food in the dining hall, to making the toilets overflow with sewage, to phoning in a bomb threat, to committing arson. This was where Twilight began to draw red lines. Directly harming minors, no matter how stuck-up and pompous they were, ran counter to the mission at the core of his heart, his reason for becoming a spy. Not to mention Handler would have their heads.

Finally there were targeted acts of harm against individual students, starting with themselves. Demetrius had already caused one student to overdose and end up a vegetable. If he made Franky and Loid use drugs at the next party, luckily Twilight was well-trained in withstanding various torture techniques including truth serums and psychedelics. But this was another red line Handler had drawn, and he was loath to stoke her ire once again.

Outside of that, there were the typical cruel things teenagers might do to each other. Acts of bullying. Spreading embarrassing rumors or photographs. The high school equivalent of a honey trap on an insecure female classmate. If Demetrius wanted them to go to extremes a la gang initiation rites, he might order them to kidnap someone and scare them into thinking they were truly under threat, or to participate in an underground fight club, or to conduct water torture—

“Um, Loid? Are you, um, volunteering?”

Twilight snapped out of his trance and realized that he was standing alone on the mat, while the rest of the wrestling team members hung back several paces behind him. Coach Briar stood in front of him, waving her hand cautiously to try to get his attention. Oddly, her gaze was focused on some spot over his shoulder instead of his face, and she was blushing.

Twilight automatically raised his hand to the back of his neck in a sign of embarrassment. It wasn’t even fake this time. “Sorry, I was thinking about some of the homework I need to do later. What am I volunteering for, Coach Briar?”

But as soon as he finished asking the question, the answer came to him. From what he’d observed the past few weeks, Coach Briar always ended practice with a show match of sorts against a random student, which rarely lasted more than ten seconds. The flurry of whispers behind him signaled the rest of the team’s eagerness to see the new kid try his hand. 

This’ll be good! 

You think he can actually do it?

A hundred dalc he lasts a full minute.

“Uh…well, it’s…putting the skills you’ve learned into practice. Against me,” Coach Briar stuttered. She still wouldn’t look at him directly. “But since you just joined the team today, you don’t have to. You’ve never done sports before, and you only just learned two moves, so—”

“I’ll give it a try,” he interrupted gently. It wouldn’t do for her to keep sounding so uncertain in front of a bunch of high school boys who already didn’t pay her proper respect.

“A–are you sure? You really don’t have to–”

“I’m sure,” he answered with what he hoped was a disarming smile. To his dismay, it had the opposite effect. She tensed, her face growing even redder. 

“Oh…okay, then,” she squeaked.

How was he going to play this? He had told everyone that he’d never formally played sports. But they all knew he was the most physically fit student among them from how he handled all the warmups in gym class with ease. Perhaps he could purposely fumble in the first ten seconds and take a quick loss so his newbie status would be more believable. And to save Coach Briar from hyperventilating. The streaking incident must have really left a scar on her psyche. She had acted flustered around him ever since, sometimes even avoiding him altogether.

Then a change came over Coach Briar’s demeanor, curtailing his musings. She closed her eyes, took one deep breath in and out, and relaxed her shoulders. When she opened her eyes again, Twilight almost took a step back at the razor sharp, borderline killing intent in those blood red irises. It was the same look she’d initially had when she had discovered him and Franky hiding behind the bushes.

“Oh, shit,” one of the teens behind him breathed.

Coach Briar sank low into a starting position. There was no longer a hint of anxiety or embarrassment in her expression. She stared straight into Twilight’s eyes as if this were a real fight with life-or-death stakes. 

As she counted down from three, Twilight’s combat instincts kicked into high gear at the sound of that deadly soft voice. A surge of adrenaline flooded his entire body as his animal brain reacted to the imminent threat of a lethal predator. 

She moved with preternatural speed, her arms locking around him faster than he could register, and he staggered back under the pure force of her forward momentum. But years of dancing on the edge of danger served him well as he managed to counter her first attempt to take him down with a knee pick. 

He could feel the surprise in her frame as she momentarily paused, giving him the opportunity to regain his balance and center his weight. 

Had he messed up? Would she suspect him of lying about his background now? No normal teenager should have been able to withstand the force of her charge, much less avoid her lightning-fast reach for the knee.

At the same time, something deep within his blood began to sing at the prospect of testing his limits against a worthy opponent. He’d known from the start that there was something unusual about Coach Briar. All his investigative efforts hadn’t yet uncovered the root of it. But now, grappling with her like an enemy combatant or a training partner, muscles straining against the impossible strength hidden by her graceful feminine frame, sensing and countering the hairpin turns of her strategy to get him on the mat—this was his best chance to study her up close and search for her secrets. 

Was she undercover as well, acting in a role? If so, which of her personas was the real her? 

But the switch between demure, kindhearted teacher and lethal fighter was so jarring, it didn’t line up with how undercover operatives behaved. Twilight never dropped his mask in public. His masks were seamless and perfectly controlled, convincing every target that the falsehood he projected was the real him.

His eyes widened as she dropped low and tried to lift him over her back for a throw. It was only his height that saved him as he managed to keep his feet on the ground and maneuver out of her grip. Only twenty odd seconds had passed in real time in their match as his mind whirred with possibilities. He forced himself to stop analyzing. He could not afford to be distracted. 

She made a frustrated huff of breath against his ear as they went back to grappling. But then, out of the corner of his eye he noticed her lips curve into a smile. She was enjoying this. And, he realized, so was he.

The cheers and catcalls of the students behind him jarred him back into self-awareness. They had an audience. An audience that was sure to spread confusing rumors about what they had witnessed from a kid with no wrestling experience. He abruptly loosened his hold and let her bring him down, his back hitting the mat hard. Coach Briar’s intense focus broke as she stared down at him beneath her, and suddenly let him go as if she had been burned.

Disappointment rippled through the students. Whoever had bet the hundred dalc had lost. Twilight estimated the match had been around thirty seconds, maybe forty at most. Still, he had lasted far too long to escape suspicion.

“Um, are you, are you alright, Loid?” Coach Briar began to babble. The dangerous glint was gone from her eyes, and she was back to the wide-eyed, nervous young woman he was used to seeing. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Twilight rose to his feet slowly so as not to spook her any further, the amicable Loid Forger smile sliding back onto his face. “Not at all, don’t worry about it. I hope I didn’t break any rules, I’m still learning the ropes.”

Several students scoffed and laughed in disbelief at his self-deprecating statement. He clenched his jaw as he had no choice but to fabricate a story on the spot.

“Growing up, I had an uncle who taught me some moves. He was in the military.”

Coach Briar nodded and seemed to accept the explanation, and the students quieted as well. “Well, you’re certainly taking to this like a natural! That’s all for today’s practice, everyone. Have a good rest of the day!”

She turned abruptly and began wiping down the large wrestling mats with quick, efficient movements. The other team members headed back to the locker rooms, with only a couple staying behind to help their teacher. Twilight tried to help as well, but Coach Briar rebuffed him more adamantly than before.

“I’m all set here, really!”

“But it’s no problem—”

“Didn’t you say you were thinking about homework earlier? Go make sure you get it done!” she interrupted without looking at him. Her cheeks were pink again.

Twilight hid a frown at the pointed reminder of his cover. He should have felt glad that his act was convincing. But coming from her, it felt wrong. Like she was chastising her little brother.

He quickly shoved down his unease and took his leave with a practiced smile. With homework and everything else the mission entailed, he had to stay on task. 

“I still think you’re being way too paranoid,” Franky said as they got off the bus the next morning. 

Twilight had been reviewing the list of 862 Gauntlet possibilities with him over the past couple of days. As he should have expected, Franky wasn’t taking the exercise seriously. 

“Not too long ago, a student became permanently disabled due to The Gauntlet. Do you want to suffer the same fate?” Twilight pressed in a low whisper.

“Chill, man. That ain’t gonna happen to us. Demetrius likes being original. He won’t do the same thing twice.”

“We need to be prepared for anything. Don’t make assumptions.”

They paused their conversation as one of Demetrius’ lackeys approached them on the lawn. Twilight put on a pleasantly blank expression while his mind whirred rapidly. Elliott never appeared on this side of campus in the morning, since he and most of the other wealthy students lived in the dorms and had no reason to cross paths with commuters. 

“Forgers,” the boy said without preamble. “Demetrius wants to see you before first period.”

Twilight greeted him politely, while Franky grinned as if he were truly friends with the teen. “Hey Elliott! What’s the occasion? Wait, no, let me guess…”

Twilight suppressed an eyeroll at his partner’s chummy antics. Elliott was not their ally, only a messenger. He hoped Franky didn’t lose sight of that.

“Just come with me,” Elliott said neutrally.

They followed him quickly toward the side of the building, where Demetrius and Edward waited in an alcove out of view of most passersby. Twilight immediately felt wary at the sight of their target’s owlish smile. 862 ideas trimmed themselves down to 549. If Demetrius wanted them to do the next trial now, it had to be limited to school grounds and doable with whatever they carried on their persons. He again wished in vain that Franky had taken his analysis seriously.

“Hey Demetrius! Good to see you again!” Franky gushed.

But Demetrius only looked at Twilight. A pit of dread opened in his stomach. 

“We all have to get to class on time, so I’ll make this short,” the Desmond boy began. “You did well passing round one. But I’ve been watching and listening. And I still don’t get your intentions.”

Shit. All this time they’d thought Demetrius had been ignoring them due to Franky’s boasting. But that hadn’t been it. Or at least not the only thing.

Twilight made his best attempt at relaxed confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Him, I sort of get,” Demetrius nodded at Franky, “but you? Is it really because you feel the need to prove yourself over your brother?”

Franky tensed visibly, ever hopeless at concealing his emotions. It took Twilight a second to realize Franky must have said something to Demetrius—or to Elliott, more likely—about him. Something he hadn’t bothered to debrief him about later.

“Whatever my brother said–” Twilight started.

“Is he really your brother?” Demetrius said, his tone dropping lower. His wide eyes flicked between him and Franky. “You two just parachuted in here out of nowhere and went straight for me. Are you guys even teens? Or are you narcs?”

Shit. This was very bad. Twilight had thought that going along with the binge drinking and streaking (and Franky’s routine juvenile behavior) had dispelled all suspicions about their cover, but apparently that wasn’t the case. 

Franky laughed way too loudly and ran a hand through his curly hair. “That’s crazy talk! How could we be anything but a couple of kids fumbling through school, same as everyone?”

Twilight almost bit the inside of his cheek in frustration at Franky’s piss-poor acting. “Demetrius, I’m sorry if we gave off the wrong impression, but it’s our first time going to an elite school. If we crossed a line somehow, we just didn’t know–”

“Then prove yourselves right now,” Demetrius cut in. Most of the lawn had emptied out, signaling class was about to start. He gestured to Edward, who drew something out of his pocket and handed it to Demetrius. 

Twilight’s heart dropped into his stomach upon first glimpse of the small plastic packets. There appeared to be stickers inside shaped like Tonitrus bolts. But he knew better than to think they were the type Anya and Damian used to decorate their cards.

They were acid tabs. And Twilight had no idea how potent they were. 

“Take these right now,” Demetrius challenged them, “and go to class. Then we’ll be good. Or else I’ll call up the you-know-who’s and tell them to come collect their shitty rookies.”

Chapter Text

Twilight and Franky scrambled to the bathroom, slamming the doors open and shoving each other as they fell beside the toilet. In any other situation, Twilight would’ve been horrified to be in so many points of contact with a toilet and bathroom floor, but that was the last thing he was thinking about at the moment. His mind was buzzing with a storm of frantic thoughts, but most of all he kept a timer counting down in the back of his head. 

The timer began when Demetrius watched them choke down the bitter-tasting wafers from the little plastic bags he’d given them. When at first confronted with the bags, Twilight had panicked. All in about 0.2 seconds, he ran through the logistics.

Handler did explicitly state not to take any drugs under any circumstances. However, considering the countless resources it has taken to get Operation Strix to this point, it would be a waste to refuse now and blow our covers. WISE cannot afford such a risky operation twice. I have extensive training in handling and withstanding drugs of nearly every caliber, I can handle this. Once I take this drug, I have multiple methods available to me to ensure it doesn’t affect me in any manner.

“Alright then,” he’d said with as much confidence as he could muster. Franky’s head snapped to him in disbelief. “Should be relatively easy. Right, Franky?”

“U—Uh, yeah,” Franky agreed weakly, “easy peasy.”

Under Demetrius’s amused grin, they ate the wafers and the timer began. Based on the size of the tablets, their thickness, texture, and taste, Twilight guessed that they were a stimulant of some kind and would take about twenty to thirty minutes to take effect. Shortly after they’d consumed the wafers, the warning bell rang.

“I’ll see you later today, boys,” Demetrius called smugly over his shoulder as they split off to class. What he really meant was he expected to see them later at lunch to make sure they’d actually taken the drugs and stayed at school.

“What’re we supposed to do?!” Franky hissed to Loid as they rushed to class.

“Stay calm, I have a plan,” Twilight murmured.

The plan was to remove the wafers from their bodies before they dissolved. Or, in other words, throw up.

So after getting to class, the fake brothers asked to be excused to the bathroom independently of each other so as to not arouse suspicion. Now they were both kneeling over a toilet in the boy’s bathroom, desperately shoving their fingers down their throats. According to Twilight’s mental timer, they had approximately seventeen minutes until the drugs were irreversibly dispersed into their systems.

“I can’t get it!” Franky gagged. “Quick, tell me something gross!”

Twilight was finding his efforts to be just as unsuccessful.

“You have to get just the right spot,” he choked. “It’s farther back.”

“I don’t see you throwing up either, wise guy.”

“Then think of… of…” He struggled to suggest an image that was disgusting but not overly disturbing. “Having to honey trap Handler!”

Beside him, Franky paused and tilted his head in thought as he imagined it.

“That wouldn’t be too bad, actually. Handler’s kinda hot.”

It was Twilight’s turn to gag. Handler was old enough to be his mother; in fact, she was the closest thing to a maternal figure he had now. His overactive mind kicked into high gear as he unintentionally imagined the unpleasant details of having to seduce his mentor and mother. His stomach turned, but it wasn’t enough to force himself to vomit.

“Never mind, think of something else,” he croaked.

“Um, um…Stratus and Handler making out!”

“Stop bringing Handler into this!”

“You’re the one who brought her up in the first place!”

Despite their best attempts, they couldn’t bring themselves to induce vomiting. The timer was ticking. They had about twelve minutes remaining.

“What’re we gonna do if we can’t get it out?” Franky coughed. “Handler’s gonna kill us!”

Twilight wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while he thought. 

“I have a plan B,” he said. “I’m not sure how effective it’ll be but it’s better than nothing.”

“What’s that?”

He extracted a small sheet of pills from his pocket and popped two of them out of their foil packaging.

“More drugs?!” Franky asked incredulously. “That’s your big idea?!”

“No, it’s an antidote,” Twilight explained, “Well, there’s no real antidote for recreational drugs such as this one, but WISE uses these to treat poisons. It’s a bit risky to mix unknown chemicals like this and I can’t be sure if they’ll actually do anything, but we’ll have to take our chances.”

He gave the pills to Franky who shot him a skeptical look as he popped two more out for himself.

“It’s the best I’ve got,” Twilight reasoned. Franky studied the small, round pills.

“If you say so,” he mumbled before squeezing his eyes shut, and swallowing them with a hard gulp. Twilight followed suit, feeling the chalky pills fall down his raw throat. 

Despite his backup plans, Twilight felt on edge about the entire ordeal. Losing control was one of the worst things that could happen to a spy. However, he couldn’t let the rookie pick up on his nervousness. Instead he looked him square in the eyes.

“No matter what,” he said gravely, “Don’t forget who you are.”

“Yeah, I know,” Franky muttered.

“No, I’m serious, don’t forget. Who are you?”

Franky gulped again. “I’m Frank Forger.”

“And how old are you?”

“I’m seventeen.”

“Good. Don’t stop reminding yourself.” Twilight rose from the floor and went to wash his hands. “We don’t get a second chance if you mess up.”

“Don’t forget either,” Franky called from behind him. Twilight clenched his fists.

“I won’t.”

—

Despite what he’d told Franky, Twilight was nervous he was going to forget. He’d gone undercover dozens and dozens of times, but this was the first time he felt there was a real possibility that he’d slip. So, he kept reminding himself.

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen years old.

He repeated that like a mantra in his head.

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen years old.

They were back in class. Four minutes left on his mental timer. Twilight noticed Franky sliding a note to him while the teacher’s back was turned. He snatched the note and unfolded it.

Do you feel anything yet?

Normally, Twilight wouldn’t dream of risking getting in trouble by passing notes in class, but he was willing to make an exception this time. He slid back a response.

No. Do you?

Franky scribbled something.

I don’t know. It feels really hot in here.

Twilight placed a hand over his own forehead to find it felt as it usually did.

You’re just nervous. The antidote likely worked. Calm down.

Franky’s heel tapped incessantly on the ground as he scratched into the note.

I feel weird. Is it normal to sweat this much when you’re high? I think I’m sweating more than usual.

Twilight pressed his mouth into a straight line.

You always sweat a lot. It’s probably nothing.

After that, he ignored Franky’s anxious squirming in his seat, instead focusing on his mantra.

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen. I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen. I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen.

As he repeated that, he found his gaze catching on the window. It was a pretty day outside. He’d been so busy earlier this morning, rushing to get Franky awake on time, throwing together breakfast, double checking his homework, cleaning the kitchen because Franky seemed incapable of doing so, and scrambling to the bus stop that he hadn’t noticed the white fluffy clouds floating serenely in the blue sky. The sky seemed extra blue today, far more brilliant and deep against the pure white clouds.

It must be nice, being a cloud.

He enviously watched them lazily drag across the sky. Maybe drag was the wrong word. They moved so slowly that they seemed to stand still, casting huge shadows across Berlint. Yet they somehow continued onward, blissfully unaware of all the wars and conflicts happening below them. If only Twilight could join them in their slow journey across the sky. In fact, after a moment, he swore he was in the sky, looking down on Eden, through the window, where he saw himself staring back. He was light as the clouds around him, every cell in his body replaced with a particle of water as he merged into the atmosphere. In the sky, there was no Eden. No WISE. No Ostania, no war. He was at peace. 

It was a magical, addictive feeling, better than any buzz he’d ever felt. It would not last long. As he merged into the clouds, he slowly felt himself grow heavy. The sky turned a bit darker, a vibrant dark blue and gray, and he smelled imminent rainfall. It was a thick, earthy smell, one that reminded him of rainy days in Luwen; picking up earthworms off the pavement with his friends, floating paper boats in puddles, standing still as his mother wrapped him in a towel. They were not memories, instead they briefly became his reality as he felt the wriggling worms between his fingers, the water seeping into his socks, the warm fabric against his skin.

He grew too heavy and he plummeted to the ground in a barrage of raindrops. He fell towards Berlint, soaring between buildings and treetops until he found Eden. He saw himself looking out the window as the teacher called to him.

“Mr. Forger!”

The teacher’s voice was an unbelievably loud alarm that blared like air raid sirens. Twilight blinked a few times to see he was back in the classroom, but everyone had already left.

“For the last time, class is over! Go to your next class or else you’ll be late!”

He blinked stupidly a few more times at the teacher. He’d never seen the man’s face in such detail before. It was like looking at him through a microscope. If he stared long enough, he could surely count every minute hair in his mustache.

Twilight blinked again and he was walking through the hallway. His head felt like it was full of helium and he had to stumble to stay on the ground. He was forgetting something, wasn’t he? What was it? Oh, right.

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen. I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen.

As he muttered that to himself, he took a step forward and suddenly he was down the hall. Another step, a blur of motion, and he was in a completely different area of the school. At least, some place that looked like the school. There were the tall clear windows, the elegantly arched hallways, and the wandering students. Yet something felt different. The sky was still that intensely deep blue, it nearly overpowered all other colors in his vision, tinting everything in a cool hue. It was like the sky was trying to burst through the windows and drown him in its impossibly blue depths. It overwhelmed Twilight. He stumbled backward until his back hit the wall.

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen and the sky is trying to suffocate me.

“Hey!”

Two points of red cut through the blue and a heavy, burning sensation fell on his shoulder like an anvil. Twilight squinted through the haze until he could make out the face of Yuri Briar and his hand on his shoulder.

“Get to class! The warning bell already rang!”

Why was everything so bright? The blue sky, Yuri’s red eyes, the gold trim on their uniforms, every color was blinding, pulsating with vibrancy, assaulting Twilight’s senses. Yuri glared at him.

“I am going to class,” Twilight said. Or at least he thought he said it. He could feel every individual neuron firing in his brain, forming the idea of speaking, every vibration of his vocal cords, every movement of his jaw and tongue as he formed the words, but it was anyone’s guess if they actually made it out of his mouth.

Yuri stared at him for what was surely at least several long minutes before he dragged him into the classroom. Twilight stumbled along with him. His legs felt much too long, like he was walking on stilts that made him as tall as a skyscraper. He fell down into his seat beside Chloe with a thunk.

“What’s up with you today?” he heard her ask. Her voice was distant. She was at the far end of a tunnel yelling to him and her voice was echoing and bouncing. “I saw you sprint by the classroom twice and then run headfirst into the window.”

Twilight knew she was asking a question, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer her. He was too engrossed with the strange texture of her book, which sat in front of her on the desk. He’d seen it dozens of times by now; it was a simple brown cloth bound novel with plain gold embossments. He had one just like it in his bag—it was the required reading for this class after all. Now, however, the book sang to him. The stretched fabric seemed to breathe like it was alive. He studied each fiber as they writhed and squirmed.

“Can I have my book back, Loid?”

Chloe was watching him with a bemused smile as Twilight realized he was holding her book nearly right in front of his face.

“Sorry…” he heard himself mutter, “I was…borrowing it…”

He was still holding onto it, feeling it breathe in his grasp. She gently pried it from his hands.

“Are you feeling okay? I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re sweating like crazy,” Chloe said.

He raised a hand to his forehead again and found it slick with moisture. A realization hit him.

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen and my face is wet.

“Of course it’s wet, I was in the rain,” he mumbled as the revelation dawned on him. “Clouds are wet, rain is wet, I was the clouds and then the rain, and now my face is wet.”

Chloe gave him another quizzical look.

“Right. That explains everything.”

He pondered the vast implications of this breakthrough as class began. There was so much to unpack here. When he’d been in the clouds, not only had he seen the world for what it truly was, he’d been a part of it. A single cell in the grand organism of the universe. That’s all any of them were: mere particles floating in the cosmic dust of space.

I am Loid Forger and…I am a part of the universe.

“Before we break into group discussions, let’s go over last night’s reading,” Mr. Weaver announced. “You were supposed to read chapters twelve through twenty. Would anyone like to share their analysis?”

Twilight’s hand shot up. He had so many ideas that his head felt heavy; they were dying to be released.

“Mr. Forger?”

Twilight solemnly rose from his seat. His mind was somehow so busy and so serene all at the same time. He took a deep breath that sucked all the air out of the room.

I am the universe.

“These books…” he began somberly, “are alive.”

“Oh no,” Chloe muttered beside him.

“At first, I couldn’t see it because I was blind. I was so wrapped up in trying to see the whole when the building blocks were right there in front of me the entire time.” He picked up Chloe’s book. It was warm in his hands, like he was swaddling a newborn child. “It’s always right there in front of you. You’re broken, we’re broken, but the pieces are simple. Not the whole. Once I understood that, I could see. It all fit together and then the whole appeared before me. I could see everything and then I became everything. Everyone is everything, all a part of a greater being. And these books…”

Twilight cast his gaze down to the novel in his hands with fondness. The cloth fibers of the cover turned like DNA strands.

“…well, they’re a piece of the whole, too. A trapped voice. And when we read them, the voices are set free. They can then join the whole again. It’s amazing, it’s…”

His vocabulary couldn’t properly describe the immense magnitude of the revelations that were unfolding in his mind. He was once again lost in examining the book cover. Every time he turned it in the light, it was like it transformed into a new object, one that he could discover all over again. It was the most fascinating thing Twilight had ever seen.

“Er, yes, Mr. Forger, wonderful insights,” Mr. Weaver said as he cleared his throat. “Let’s just, um, break into groups now. Please discuss the reading with your reading partners.”

The class hesitated. All eyes lingered on Twilight who was still absorbed in the mesmerizing book in his hands. He felt Chloe tugging on his sleeve.

“That’s enough, Socrates, give me back my book,” she said.

Twilight slowly sat back down without giving back the book. Instead he flipped through the pages, listening to the magical sound of the pages turning under his fingers. He could hear the voice of the author whisper to him. Or maybe that was the rest of the class having their private discussions.

“I think I should become an author,” Twilight murmured. He needed to record these amazing, mind shattering epiphanies.

“I think you should give me back my book,” Chloe said dryly. “Are you high or something? Did Demetrius make you take a Bolt?”

“Did you just say you were high?!” Yuri snapped from the neighboring table.

“I’m not high,” Twilight answered distractedly as he pored over the book. He’d read the novel a dozen times. He’d memorized every word. But now he felt as if the book was reading him, like he and the book were psychically connected and they were slowly melting into one entity. This book was a part of him now, just as he was a part of the universe.

“As if, Forger!” Yuri pointed an accusatory finger at him. “First I caught you with your face glued to the hallway window and now you’re going on mumbo jumbo monologues about nothing! You’re on something, I can tell! You’re a liar!”

Twilight slowly raised his gaze from the book and to Yuri’s face. He observed the boy with quiet contemplation.

“…What?” Yuri stammered. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“You know…” Twilight leaned ever so slightly as he studied Yuri’s quickly reddening face. Despite the boy’s combative disposition, he really did flush just as easily as his sister. “You’re just like Coach Briar.”

“Y—Yeah, she’s my sister! Siblings look like each other!” Yuri sputtered. “Unlike you and your fake brother!”

Twilight ignored the jab or rather didn’t seem to notice. Instead he continued to scrutinize Yuri, now suddenly able to see his face in great detail. It was a bit rounder due to youth, but the curve of his jaw and the height of his cheekbones were nearly identical to his sister. His nose was a bit bigger, a bit sharper too, and he didn’t have the same slight dimples, either—or maybe he did and Twilight didn’t know because he’d hardly ever seen Yuri smile—but the similarities far outweighed the differences. And, of course, their eyes were practically copies of each other; large, red, and sometimes deadly.

They were the same. They were connected. A part of the whole. It all came together.

“I like you, Yuri. You and I are alike,” he concluded.

Both Yuri and Chloe’s eyebrows shot up. 

“D—Don’t compare me to you, Forger!”

“But we are, aren’t we?” Twilight pressed. “If I was your sister’s brother, I’d fight tooth and nail to protect her, too. You have to protect your family. Keep the pieces whole. You’re doing a good job, Yuri, you’re a great brother. We have to keep the whole together, keep the peace.”

Yuri’s mouth flapped open and closed but no words escaped. He was completely broken with confusion.

“You know what, Loid, let’s get you to the infirmary,” Chloe said finally as she stood up and tugged on his arm. Loid looked at her, puzzled.

“Why? I’m just having a civil conversation with Yuri.”

“Yes and that’s not normal. Let’s go.”

The world was once again a blur and they were outside in the hallway. However, the walls kept getting taller and taller, the ceiling more far away, and the windows wider, letting more of that aggressively blue sky into the hallway. Each step that Twilight took was as small as a mouse’s; he had to run just to keep at a normal walking pace.

“Loid! Hey! Slow down!” Chloe’s voice behind him called. He turned to see her on the far end of the hallway. He had to squint just to see her until he blinked and suddenly she was nearly right in front of him. Twilight staggered back at her immense speed. How could she move that fast? The only person who could do that was Coach Briar.

“If you keep running like that, people are gonna know you’re high,” Chloe warned him.

“I’m not high, though,” Twilight retorted. In fact, he felt more sober than he’d ever felt in his entire life.

“Yeah, I know, your secret’s safe with me,” she replied with a sly wink. They walked—or rather he ran and she kept teleporting back and forth by his side—for a while in silence before she asked, “Hey, Loid, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Is Loid your real name?”

Aha! He knew this one!

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen!

“My name is Loid Forger,” he answered.

“Is it actually?” Chloe asked again.

“Yes. I’m also seventeen.”

She stopped in the middle of the hallway, which had grown so large that Twilight was sure he was only as tall as a dust speck, and looked at him.

“C’mon man, be serious,” she said. “You seem like a nice guy and all that, but you have to be way older than seventeen.”

Twilight tilted his head as he thought. There were many, many ideas and concepts flying around his head right now, but one consistent theme hung above the rest.

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen.

“But I’m Loid Forger and I’m seventeen,” he concluded.

Chloe let out a frustrated sigh but she still smiled like the whole situation amused her.

“So your name is Loid Forger.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re seventeen.”

“Exactly.”

“What about any other names? Sometimes people have multiple names.”

Twilight thought some more. All he could remember was Loid Forger and seventeen.

“Loid Forger, seventeen,” he said.

“What about your brother? What’s his name?”

Twilight bit his lip hard as he thought.

“…Loid? Maybe?”

He couldn’t really remember now. He had lots of ideas and knowledge but they kept scattering like a flock of pigeons every time he tried to grasp one concept.

“Your brother’s name is Loid?” Chloe deadpanned.

“Possibly, yes.”

“And how old is he?”

“Seventeen.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I should’ve seen that coming.”

She didn’t ask any more questions for the rest of their trek to the infirmary. By the time they arrived, Twilight became increasingly more aware of how his uniform was sticking uncomfortably to his back. It was bizarre; he hadn’t been in the clouds for some time now and yet he was soaking wet. He felt his bangs plastered to his forehead and his heart beat painfully fast and hard in his chest.

“Before I go, can I have my book back?” Chloe asked as they stood in front of the infirmary glass doors. Twilight looked down and realized he was still holding her book in his hands. His grasp tightened protectively and he shot her a pleading look. She sighed and threw her hands up in defeat.

“Or keep it. Just give it back to me later as long as you don’t, like, start eating the pages or whatever.”

“I will protect it with my life,” Twilight swore, “I’d sooner cut out my own liver than allow harm to befall this book.”

“No one’s asking you to do that.”

“I swear upon my dead mother’s name—”

“I’m going now.” Chloe turned and started walking down the hall. “Hope you feel better.”

And so now Twilight was alone, profusely sweating, clutching Chloe’s book. He stared at it for a while longer, mesmerized and enchanted. He then had a very troubling realization.

I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen and I am holding Chloe Bernhardt’s book.

Chloe Bernhardt’s book.

Not Loid Forger’s book.

“I’ve separated a whole,” he muttered to himself, “I’ve disrupted the universe. There cannot be peace until they are united again.”

The door behind him creaked open and a concerned woman in a nurse outfit poked her head out.

“Are you okay, son? You’ve been standing outside for—”

“Not now! I have a mission!” Twilight declared before sprinting down the hallway, ignoring the confused shouts of the nurse.

Twilight was indeed on a mission, possibly the most important one of his life. Forget Operation Strix, forget peace between Ostania and Westalis, this was what would solve all problems in the world—no, the universe. He was no longer in Eden, instead he was sprinting through blue tunnels of light, his feet as light as air. He’d never run so fast and so freely. That sky, that staggeringly blue sky, once again became his reality. He was flying again through the clouds and breathing in the crisp, earthy air. The universe was aiding him in quest. The world was on his side.

He descended from the sky again to search for Chloe. Twilight’s vision was a messy blur of too-vibrant colors that only cleared when he furiously blinked his eyes. Like a miracle, he could see Chloe just a little ways away in the storm of light and colors. He ran to her, waving the book in his hand.

“Chloe! I have it!”

She was talking to someone—Yuri from the looks of it—until she heard Twilight’s voice. She looked to the source of the commotion and her eyes widened.

“Chloe, your book!” Twilight called, “I have—”

WHACK!

The world yanked sideways and he tasted a sharp metallic sensation in his nose and mouth before a shooting pain exploded in his face. He was on his back and someone was yelling at him.

“Loid, what the hell?! Why are you on the roof?! I just dropped you off at the infirmary!”

Twilight slowly sat up to find he was indeed on the roof below the classroom windows. The old, gritty shingles caught on the fabric of his uniform as he moved. Chloe was peering out of one of the windows which now had a large sweaty and bloody smudge on it in the shape of Twilight’s face.

“Got your book, Chloe,” Twilight mumbled. His mouth felt weirdly warm and wet.

“Get inside before the teacher comes back!” Chloe hissed. “You’re lucky that he just stepped out to use the bathroom.”

Twilight stumbled through the window and practically fell onto the classroom floor with another smack! Gone was the magical lightness he had felt just moments earlier, along with all of his agility spy training. 

“You hit the window kinda hard,” Chloe said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a concussion.”

“No concussions,” Twilight muttered as he painfully rose to his feet. He fumbled for a moment to hand Chloe back her book. “Here’s your book. Balance restored.”

He turned to unceremoniously return to his desk, perfectly content to ignore the fact that he’d run face first into a second story window like a confused bird. However, he found every pair of eyes in the classroom focused on him.

Including two particular red eyes.

Attempting to move past the awkwardness, Twilight nonchalantly sat down at his desk—as nonchalantly as he could manage, anyway, he was finding that his depth perception was still out of wack. Slowly, his classmates turned away from him and back to their individual work, but those red eyes remained trained on Twilight, staring and judging. Yuri Briar was unabashedly glaring at him as if he were plotting his downfall right then and there.

Twilight couldn’t think of any particular wrongdoing he’d committed but somehow suddenly felt guilty. The lightness he’d experienced just moments ago evaporated completely.

He was in trouble.

—

Franky was having the worst day of his life.

First he’d been forced to take Demetrius’s drugs, then he’d spent ten minutes clawing the inside of his own throat to try to vomit it back out. Even though Twilight had given him something to combat the side effects of the drugs, Franky had returned to class more stressed out than he’d ever been in his entire life.

And that was all before the things started happening.

It started soon after he and Twilight returned to class. He couldn’t tell if his pounding heart and sweaty palms were due to his nervousness or the drugs. Regardless, while he was trying to focus on the teacher, he heard a quiet whispering. It was faint but undeniable; a hushed string of words coming from somewhere and floating through the air. At first he suspected Twilight was messing with him for whatever reason, but when he looked over to his desk he found the veteran spy off in his own world, fixated on something outside the window. Franky looked around the classroom but found that everyone else was silent, save for the teacher droning on and on.

Well, he could hear something else above the teacher and the whispering.

He became acutely aware of just how loud the ticking clock was at the front of the classroom. It was subtle, but as soon as he became aware of it, it was as if a fictitious volume knob was turned and the ticks became louder and louder. They were like a mechanical heartbeat, thundering steps growing closer to him. Was this the drugs making him hear things? Or were clocks always this loud? He couldn’t tell. 

He then realized he could not only hear the clock, but also the student next to him writing in her notebook. She was simply copying down what the teacher had written on the chalkboard but the sound of her pencil scraping against paper became an overwhelming and awful screeching noise that made him want to cover his ears. It wasn’t just that, the kid behind him was drumming his fingers boredly against his desk; Franky could hear each finger booming against the wood like they were powerful drums.

The longer he sat there, the more noises began to fall upon him: passing footsteps outside the classroom, a student chewing on the end of his pencil, another kid tapping their foot, book pages being flipped, Franky’s own breathing, and, underneath the cacophony was the ever present whispering.

Sweat was pouring off him in waves. The pen he’d forgotten that he was gripping became slick in his grasp. The paper he was writing on was damp and stuck to his hand. He considered whispering to Twilight who was still staring out the window, but he realized that the classroom had gotten so loud that he wouldn’t be able to tell between whispering and shouting.

The bell cut through the roaring clatter of noise like a thunderclap. Franky jumped in his seat, drawing the confused stares of many of his classmates. With trembling hands, he frantically packed up his things and stumbled out the door. All the while the noises kept amplifying. Students passed by him, their voices practically screaming into his ears. With the amount of students around, it felt like he had been tossed into a stampede of giants. Franky grasped the walls as he walked, the noises physically shaking him right down to his bones. 

It was so loud. When Franky was a boy, his hometown had been bombed. He remembered hearing the planes far before he saw them. It’d started as a faraway buzzing, a faint mechanical gurgling from the sky. He’d been walking home from school when the drone got so loud he’d covered his ears. A shadow fell over him; a huge green plane flying close to the ground swept by overhead. It was as if God was roaring into his ear. The angry snarl of engines vibrated the air around him.

It wasn’t nearly as loud as the explosions that followed, though.

The cacophony of students reminded him of hearing those engines all those years ago. In fact—he lurched to a window and watched the sky in disbelief—he swore he could faintly hear that drone right now. Surely it was just his already addled mind playing tricks on him? It couldn’t be—no. Underneath it all, the yelling and stomping, was the whispering and the unmistakable buzz of approaching planes.

Franky began sprinting. He didn’t have a specific destination in mind, but he knew he couldn’t stay here. The world became a blur as he tore through the hallways, hands covering his ears in a fruitless attempt to dampen the screaming chaos of noise. He somehow found himself in his second period woodshop class, surrounded by long work tables, full wall shelves holding countless sheets of wood, and a collection of state-of-the-art tools including a variety of saws and drills. He faintly remembered enjoying shop class; his classmates were laid-back slackers like himself who were fun to talk to and he was in the middle of working on a little birdhouse that he was planning to give to Handler as a joke.

Now, however, this was probably the worst place to be right now. The class was fairly unstructured, students were encouraged to work at their own pace with occasional tutorials on how to use a particular tool. Thus, there was a barrage of new, aggressive noises that assaulted his hearing. 

The series of explosions detonating sent him scrambling under a workbench. He curled up as far under a workbench as he could manage, expecting to feel the heat of flames on his back as the classroom went up in smoke, but found that the room was surprisingly intact. There were no explosions, only a classmate hammering a nail into a rudimentary stool. Each strike of the hammer sent a painful jolt of fear through Franky’s heart as he recalled the bombs falling on his hometown. 

Another student used a handsaw to shave off a piece of wood. The sound of the grain breaking sounded like soldiers marching, just as he’d been forced to for days and weeks on end, in the bitter cold or sweltering heat. Sweat poured off his forehead and into his eyes, stinging them.

Nearby, a classmate sanded away at a block of rough wood. The sound painfully scraped against Franky’s ear drums the same way the grinding gears of tanks and trucks did while he huddled in the trenches. He could smell the smoke, taste the sharp gunpowder in his mouth.

It was too much. It was too difficult to tell the difference between the memories and reality. Was that the scream of a fighter plane diving or a peal of laughter? Gunfire or a hammer? An artillery shell or the table saw?

The whispering had morphed into screaming. Franky had done all that he could to bury the memories of war but all of his efforts were now stripped away. He couldn’t breathe anymore. The noises overwhelmed every sensation in his body, he could only attempt to huddle further and further under the workbench as they assaulted him, building and falling into a horrific, dreadful crescendo that seemingly would never stop.

—

Things had not gotten easier for Yor.

She’d somewhat reduced her interactions with Loid Forger. She made sure to always have at least one or two students nearby when he was in close vicinity. If he approached to talk to her, she went to great lengths to avoid talking to him directly. She kept close to Yuri when possible, which seemed to help a bit. It was as if Loid was almost purposefully seeking her out. On more than one occasion, Yor spotted him walking towards her on campus, causing her to quickly slip away and somersault out of view. 

There was one interaction she wasn’t able to avoid. She’d somehow ended up wrestling Loid which, while brief, seemed to rewire her brain completely. He’d touched and held her. The match had been enthralling and exciting, he was already far more skilled than any of the other boys, but she didn’t appreciate the way his touch lingered on her for days after. After that, she’d doubled down on avoiding him even more. It was technically working. Just yesterday she hadn’t even spoken one word to him, which was a resounding success and the result of a lot of work.

However, just because she didn’t interact with Loid Forger didn’t mean she didn’t think about him all the time. 

She wondered what he spoke to his brother about when she spotted them chatting in the hallways. She imagined what he was like at home, what he liked to eat for dinner, if he watched any of the same shows she did, or what he liked to do when he went out with friends. It was humiliating. She beat these thoughts down whenever they came up—which was very often—and reprimanded herself for thinking this way about a child.

(It certainly didn’t help when he saved Anya and that poor boy from drowning at the hospital. On top of knowing he’d rescued those two children without a moment of hesitation, seeing him drenched in water that ran out of his hair and down his neck and shoulders and the way his clothes had stuck to his defined muscles had done her exactly zero favors. Many nights were spent after that day tossing and turning, unable to get the image out of her head.)

Yor fully intended to continue this plan for, well, forever. At least until Loid Forger graduated and she could be done with this embarrassing phase of her career.

That was until today. Until right now.

“H—Hey, Loid? Are you okay?” she asked.

He blinked slowly once, twice, then very quickly several times.

“Mhmm,” he replied.

“I—Is there something you n—need help with?”

Blink. Blink.

“Loid?”

His eyes squinted again, but not in a way that was scrutinizing but rather as if he were eagerly studying her like an intricate painting. He’d been doing this since he came into class with a large, darkening bruise on his forehead and a bloody tissue held up to his nose. Yor had immediately insisted he sit class out for today, but then realized that meant he’d be hanging back with her while the rest of the students did their usual routine of running laps. For nearly the entire time he’d stared at her, his expression blank. It was driving her crazy.

“I’m fine,” he answered slowly.

His hair was nearly soaked through with what Yor guessed was sweat. His clothes clung to his chest. She quickly looked away.

“Well, uh, let me know if you need something,” she said as she forced herself to watch the rest of the class run laps. She could feel him continuing to watch her. Out of habit, she nervously brushed her bangs aside.

“We match.”

The sound of Loid’s voice caused her to jump.

“W—What’s that, Loid?” she asked, fighting to keep her tone neutral. He pointed to the angry bruise on his face with an uncharacteristically wide smile.

“We’re matching. We’ve got the same bruise,” he explained as his smile grew. “Mine’s bigger and little more to the left but nearly the same as yours.”

Yor fought the urge to self-consciously cover the barely visible yellow splotch on her forehead.

“I suppose we do,” she said quickly. “We’re both a little clumsy.” She turned away from him, hoping he’d drop the subject so she wouldn’t somehow reveal it was his fault that she had that bruise.

“Hmmmmm, no. You’re not clumsy,” she heard him say languidly. “You’re really, really strong. And fast.”

“Th—Thank you, Loid.”

“The fastest person I’ve seen. And I’ve seen some fast people. But you’re really fast. Are you an Olympic athlete? That’s the only way you could be that fast.”

“N—No, I’m not, just a gym t—teacher.” What was he on about?

“And you’re incredibly strong. Unbelievably strong,” he continued, “Like when I wrestled you, I let you pin me but I think even if I hadn’t, you would’ve beat me anyway. I could feel just how strong your muscles were around me. It was amazing.”

Her cheeks were on fire. How could he just say all of that with a straight face? Her heart couldn’t take it if he kept this up.

“I still haven’t found the kid who gave you that bruise while wrestling, though.” Loid’s cheery face suddenly turned dark. “I asked everyone on the wrestling team who it was but no one’s ratted them out yet.” His fists tightened. “It’s too bad physical violence is an immediate three Tonitrus bolts. Otherwise, when I find the kid, I’d give him a bruise of his own.”

“Y—Y—You don’t need to do that!” Yor all but squeaked. He was usually so calm and mild mannered. Had he really been shaking down the wrestling team? Was that why all of the members had been so polite to her lately? “P—Please don’t start any fights!”

Loid stared at her, this time completely bewildered.

“But…” He frowned. “…Why not?”

Was he pouting? She stopped herself from laughing.

“It was an honest mistake,” she said, “There’s no need to punish someone over an accident.”

His frown curled a little deeper but he relented. “Okay. If you say so.”

Despite herself, she smiled at his insistence.

“Thank you, Loid.”

He nodded and resumed studying her with his analytic stare. She shifted uncomfortably. Surely he was sick or whatever he’d done to get that bruise had given him a concussion and made him all funny. As if he could read her mind, he piped up again.

“I like having a matching bruise with you,” he said. “It makes sense.”

“I—Is that so?” All she could do now was humor him.

“Mhm. It means we’re two halves of a whole.”

“…What?”

Loid nodded again. “It’s all connected, you know. We’re parts of the collective. Part of the whole that we need to keep together. It’s like the Sierpiński triangle. The whole universe is made of triangles made of triangles. It’s one big triangle. And you and I make one triangle. And that triangle is a part of a bigger triangle and it goes on forever.”

Yor didn’t bother hiding her confusion. “We’re…triangles?”

“Exactly!” He grinned. “You and I make a triangle. It was meant to be!” He laughed a little. “Although triangles have three sides, not two. Maybe the third side in our triangle could mean the universe. Yes, that way we’re even more connected to the whole.”

Yor stepped back slightly, her confusion multiplying by the second. Was this…some sort of weird proposition? What did he mean they were meant to be? Her face grew hot. If Loid noticed her embarrassment, he didn’t mention it.

“Anyway.” He stretched out from where he was seated on the grass and laid down to look up at the sky, arms folded above his head. She made a point to not look at his toned biceps peeking out of his shirt. “While the universe is perfect and you’re perfect, I’m definitely the weak link in the triangle. I have to make it up somehow.”

There were multiple parts of that statement that caused Yor to backpedal with confusion.

“All I know is that I’m Loid Forger,” he continued, “and that I’m seventeen. But I feel like I’m somebody else. I wish I could be someone else. I wish I wasn’t Loid Forger and that I was older than seventeen. That would make things so much easier.”

Loid’s expression grew somber. He slung an arm over his eyes.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m just a small piece of the whole but I’m lost.” A sound like a sob escaped him. “Who am I? Am I really Loid Forger? Am I really seventeen? Is it possible to be someone else? Will that ruin the universe? I want to be someone else. Then things could be easier for us.”

It was hard to tell if he was crying or not because of all the sweat coating his face, but his voice was thick and sorrowful. He was making no sense at this point—although he hadn’t been making much sense at all today—and he continued to spout nonsense about being Loid Forger and seventeen and the universe. Yor was torn between feeling sorry for the poor kid and wanting to sprint away out of embarrassment, but her compassionate side eventually won out. She crouched beside Loid and gently touched his shoulder, eliciting a small jump out of him.

“Loid, it’s okay,” she said softly, although she still wasn’t exactly sure of what she was assuring him of, “It’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright.”

His rambling stopped and he slowly lowered his arm. His eyes were wide, two blue-gray circles boring into her gaze. He was back to studying her. Before Yor could stammer something out and back up, he opened his mouth to speak.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Yor’s mind went blank.

“HEY!”

She leapt back from Loid, a furiously blushing, sputtering mess as Yuri, supposedly finished with his laps, came barreling over.

“Quit acting sick to make my sister feel bad for you!” he growled. “I saw you sprinting on the roof last hour, you’re not sick in the slightest!”

“Y—Yuri! Leave him be!” Yor tried her best to act authoritative but found it hard to even look at Loid without her heart racing even faster than it already was. “W—Why don’t you go take Loid to the nurse’s office?”

“We tried that already, it didn’t work,” Yuri spat.

“I’m not sick,” Loid protested with a frown.

“Y—Yes you clearly are!” Yor just needed Loid gone before he said something even more scandalous. “Better safe than sorry!”

“But he’s—”

“I’m not—”

“GO!”

She nearly screamed, drawing confused looks from the rest of the class. Her insistence snapped Loid out of whatever weird mood he was in and Yuri knew better than to trifle with his sister when she was using that tone. With a scowl that could cut glass, Yuri yanked Loid off the ground and began trudging back to the school.

As soon as they were gone, Yor buried her blushing face in her hands once again with a groan. What had just happened? She could only hope that Loid was just sick or concussed and that he didn’t really mean all of the things he’d said. She didn’t even want to entertain the implications of his words if they were genuine. She’d successfully turned him away now, but how would she face him tomorrow? 

All that she knew was that her plan of avoiding Loid Forger was clearly not working.

Chapter Text

Since the start of Operation Strix, Stratus had been having the time of his life—when he was actually home and interacting with his boys, not undertaking all the miscellaneous side missions and rookie training Handler had tasked him with during the day. 

As the longest tenured field agent at WISE, Stratus had lived through everything a spy could expect on the front lines of the Cold War. He’d had a front row seat to the many instances the war had nearly turned hot between near-assassinations of various Prime Ministers and their Cabinet members, well-substantiated suspicions of industrial sabotage, and aggressive ‘accidental’ incursions by the Westalian military into Ostanian airspace and vice versa. He’d watched in helpless numb horror when, despite his and his colleagues’ best efforts, tensions had spiraled into the second East-West War, or the War of Westalian Aggression as Ostanian hardliners called it. 

In the uneasy peace between the devastation of the two wars, Stratus had lived through countless waves of spy hunts, two high-profile moles in the upper echelons of WIS long before Winston Wheeler had infiltrated the rank-and-file, and the urgency of packing up and moving his sparse personal effects upwards of fifty times, sometimes mere minutes ahead of SSS door-knockers. His mission record, while dotted with many inconclusive and aborted operations, remained the most prolific and decorated before Twilight had come along and stolen the title for most impactful service. 

Now in his fourth decade at WISE, Stratus found himself relegated to the role of mentor and paper-pusher more often. Sylvia Sherwood was the third WISE commanding officer he had served under, the only woman and the most intelligent and subtle of the ruthless, narcissistic personalities at the top of Westalis’ clandestine agencies. He respected her leadership and judgment, even when it ran too conservative for his tastes. 

Retirement wasn’t yet on his personal horizon, though many a colleague had begun asking indirect questions about it. He knew he set a baffling example. An old man and perpetual bachelor, still chasing the cigarette heat of the clandestine life, as his physical reflexes grew slower and he appeared more and more of a liability to the organization.

But a slow life just wasn’t in the cards for him. Never had been, since he had first enlisted for a life of shadow games and knife’s edge thrills at the ripe age of eighteen.

Perhaps recognizing that she wouldn’t be able to get rid of him so easily, Sylvia had tasked Stratus with a supporting role in Operation Strix. It was subtle and multifaceted as everything she did. He was necessary for his colleagues’ cover, but his role was low-pressure enough to leave plenty of time for side missions and admin work. And underneath that, there was the soft burn of an old dream.

It wasn’t that Stratus had never considered settling down and living a normal civilian life. He had, many times, when the second war had broken out and his two decades of pain and sacrifice leading up to it hadn’t seemed to move the needle one millimeter. Whenever one of his colleagues, younger and smarter and nobler than him, had met an untimely end at the hands of the SSS, and Stratus was left thinking, shoulda been me. Whenever he’d fallen into ‘compromise’ with one of his honey trap targets or a fellow agent, and he’d entertained the thought of making his cover permanent and turning all his sweet whispered lies into actual promises.

He’d even tried to return to Westalis once and settle into a Foreign Ministry desk job. But three months into it, he’d come back to WISE and Ostania. He’d been in Ostania for so long that Westalis no longer felt like home. He had no family or friends back there who would recognize his face anymore. 

Strix seemed like Sylvia’s way of granting him the luxury of those unrealized dreams, as a last carrot to encourage him toward the sunset. Of course, it’d be better if he actually had a cover wife in the picture, but getting to raise two teenage sons was plenty rewarding. Especially when one of them was the great Twilight himself, and the other was his spiritual opposite. In all their quibbling and petty rivalry, they couldn’t be more like brothers if they’d actually shared blood.

Stratus had known Twilight since he’d been a young man plucked off the battlefield, run through the gauntlet of Sylvia’s training and quickly gaining his vaunted reputation as the most talented spy Westalis had ever produced. Stratus admired him like the rest of WISE, but knew better than to think of him as some sort of flawless god of espionage. He was just a man, still a boy deep down in some ways, and it was probably that boyish part of him that had led Sylvia to assign him this mission. And to assign a free spirit like Franky as his partner, to ensure that his inner child stayed close to the surface.

It warmed Stratus’ heart to see Twilight plunge headfirst into teenage life, as clumsy as his efforts were. Slowly but surely, he was acclimating to high school and all its pressures, quirks, and trivialities—as well as its rare privileges, like the pretty gym teacher who’d apparently caught his eye. Stratus knew this mission was strategically important, but there was always room for some fun. And if anyone needed some fun for once in his life, it was Twilight.

So Stratus had fully leaned into the hands-off dad persona, living vicariously through his sons’ academic accomplishments and social adventures in their first month at school. He stepped in only to mediate the natural sibling rivalry that had sprung up between Twilight and Franky, and to provide the tempering wisdom that both of them needed to stay on track. They were both good boys with their hearts in the right place. Stratus could not be prouder of the progress they’d made both on the mission and in their personal lives. Twilight, with his heroic first Stella, all the late nights he poured into his homework and test prep, and his perseverance in trying to understand the bizarre workings of the teenage mind. Franky, with his knack for making friends and fitting in, how quickly he’d gained the favor of their primary target’s son, and even how he’d managed to turn his complete lack of musical ability into a social advantage.

Stratus was certain that Handler’s concerns about the Desmond boy’s Gauntlet construct were overblown. Teens would be teens, especially boys. Personally he was grateful that kids these days were preoccupied by immature hazing rituals and breaking school rules under their teachers’ noses. It was a sure sign of peacetime.

And so, when he got a call from the school late Thursday morning, he continued to tell himself that the boys were just playing their roles well. Truth be told, he was surprised the call had been this long in coming. 

“‘Yello, Forger residence,” he slipped seamlessly into his laid-back dad affect.

“Good morning sir, may I please speak with Mr. Norman Forger?”

“At your service!”

“Hello, Mr. Forger. This is Headmaster Renault from Eden College. Unfortunately we require you to pick up your sons, Loid and Frank, as soon as possible. They have both been exhibiting rather disturbing behavior since first period.”

The easy smile on Stratus’ face faded a bit. “Ah, thank you for letting me know, greatly appreciate it. What exactly’s wrong with my boys? Are they sick?”

“This will be the subject of our first parent-administrator conference with you, Mr. Forger, but we believe your sons are under the influence of some kind of consciousness-altering substance. Drugs, if you will. Which is, as you know, grounds for severe disciplinary action.”

Stratus sucked in a quiet breath while holding the receiver away from his face. He had two urgent problems to deal with.

One, how was he going to pick up two full-grown, drug-addled men and force them to get in the car if they didn’t want to?

Two, how was he going to explain this to Handler?

First things first. At least it seemed they hadn’t broken cover yet or caused any of their classmates bodily harm. 

“I apologize, I’m sure we can get this sorted out. I’ll be on my way immediately,” Stratus assured the headmaster, and prepared for his first truly active day on Strix.

The school nurse, a prim, wiry woman in her forties with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, stood to the side as Norman Forger entered the front room of her office. He nodded in thanks and took a seat across from her desk.

“Both your sons are in the sick beds,” she said in a low voice, gesturing at the two closed doors on the far side of her office. “Or hiding under them. Frank has been spewing paranoid nonsense since his classmate brought him in here from Mr. Auerbach’s woodworking class. Slightly elevated temp of 37.6, but sweating bullets. Claimed to be dodging bullets and bombs, in fact. I had to separate him from his brother because he seemed to believe he was an enemy soldier holding a gun to his head.”

The woman raised one unimpressed eyebrow as if waiting for Norman to offer an explanation for what, by her own description, appeared to be symptoms of wartime PTSD. For the first time since the tense drive over, Norman allowed himself to relax the slightest bit at the unexpected opening.

“Did you leave him in the middle of a panic attack? Is he in danger of choking?” he asked solemnly, dropping the affable father act in an instant.

“What? No,” she said, clearly puzzled by the lack of apology for the hassle his son presented. Did this woman actually hold qualifications to be a nurse, or was she another case of nepotism? “He can breathe enough to babble, he isn’t choking.”

Norman stood up and straightened his jacket with a commanding look. “Please show me to my sons.”

Despite the stern frown on her face, the woman acquiesced, opening one of the doors to reveal Franky cowering on the ground underneath the elevated sick bed. His hands were clenched in his curly hair, and he was shivering all over. 

“Franky,” Norman called, kneeling at his side and partly blocking him from the nurse’s sight. “It’s alright, son. It’s me, your dad.”

For a moment Franky didn’t react, then slowly raised his trembling head. His eyes were bleary and unfocused, his skin flushed and sweaty. 

“D-dad?” he said in a hush, obviously confused as to who he was and where they were.

Norman remembered the rookie’s file. He had fought in several particularly ugly battles in the war, and ultimately deserted after most of his unit had been obliterated. Meaning all of his friends and comrades had died in front of him. 

“You’re safe, son. Fight’s over. You can go home. No one’s in pursuit,” he said calmly, holding his gaze steady. 

Eventually, Franky’s eyes stopped roving all around the room and settled on him. “R-really? But…but those shells were so close.”

“They were,” Norman nodded, “but reinforcements arrived just in time and drove them back. You get to go home. Trust me, my boy.”

Very slowly, Franky loosened his grip on his own hair and let his arms fall to his sides. He crawled out from under the bed and nearly faceplanted on unsteady knees before Norman caught him around the elbows. Whatever hallucinogen he’d been hit with was extremely potent. Norman had half a mind to drive both him and Twilight to the WISE office so they could get their blood drawn and find out the composition of the drug. Then again, subjecting them to Handler’s wrath in the midst of an acid trip wasn’t the most humane, fatherly thing to do.

Helping Franky to the door, Norman turned to the nurse and laid the groundwork for his defensive plan.

“Our family lived in one of the hardest hit villages during the war. Both my boys bear deep trauma from before they could even attend kindergarten,” he stated, and watched with some satisfaction as the nurse’s look of condescension faded to concern. “I have no idea what could have triggered this bad of an episode today, but rest assured I will get to the bottom of this with the administration. Pardon me for the ‘inconvenience’ my sons have posed to you today. I understand that the struggles of working class families may not be so familiar to some of the faculty and staff at Eden.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Forger–”

“Now, my other son,” Norman said curtly, and opened the door to the other sick room without waiting for her help. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but it wasn’t Twilight standing on the sick bed, staring intently up at a ceiling tile like it held an encrypted message. His forehead bore a nasty bruise, and flakes of dried blood adorned his nose and chin. 

“Uh, Loid?” he called. Beside him, Franky grew rigid with apprehension, and Norman quickly stepped in front of him to block his view of the taller man. It was as he feared; how on earth was he going to get these two delusional agents all the way across campus to the parking lot and into the car?

“I am he. And I am seventeen,” Twilight murmured, not moving a muscle. His blue eyes, usually keenly observant, were glassy and mellow.

Well, at least Stratus wasn’t dealing with two hyperventilating shell-shocked soldiers. He was morbidly glad the drug hadn’t triggered any battle instincts in Twilight; from the whispered stories of his wartime years, the boy had lied about his age to enlist at sixteen so he could blow up as many Ostanians as possible. 

“...That’s right, son. You’re seventeen,” Norman said carefully, wracking his brain for how he could explain away this radically different behavior to the nurse. “I’m your dad and I’m here to take you home.”

“Home?” Twilight echoed. “I am already home. I finally understand, father. My heart beats as one with the universe. The only thing that might strengthen this timeless bond is if Coach Briar were by my side–”

“Ooookay,” Norman chirped, and promptly turned Franky to face the other way so he wouldn’t be further triggered by the sight of a former enemy soldier. “Coach Briar’s in the car. Let’s go see her.”

“She is?” Twilight turned his head uncannily fast in Norman’s direction.

“Yes. But she’s a busy woman, she won’t be there for much longer unless we hurry.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Twilight leaped off the bed and executed a perfect roll upon landing—except he rolled right into the wall. Norman was all too aware of the nurse’s mounting skepticism as she watched the inane display. 

“Coach Briar is not in your car, sir,” she whispered harshly. “It is entirely inappropriate to suggest–”

“What?” Twilight said, his sensitive hearing catching her words immediately. “Where is she then? Do we need to rescue her?”

“My boys lost their mother when they were young, and Loid took the loss especially hard,” Norman explained rapidly to the nurse. “And on top of her death, we were still constantly on the move from the shifting warfront. As a result he gravitates toward strong female authority figures and seems to have imprinted on Miss Briar. Again, I will get to the bottom of whatever may have triggered these traumatic episodes in my sons today, after I have gotten them safely off campus for proper treatment.”

Somehow Stratus managed to alternately drag and push both men out of the nurse’s office into the corridor, outside onto the sidewalk and toward the parking lot without further endangering their cover. The few students who passed by shot his boys knowing grins and obscure hand signals Stratus was too old to recognize. 

“Struck by the bolt!” one particularly rambunctious teen shouted with his hands cupped around his mouth. His friend nudged him hard in the ribs and gave Norman an apologetic nod. It was mildly encouraging to see at least a few of the silver spoon elite here upheld some standard of good manners.

The bolt, huh.

Headmaster Renault hadn’t mentioned Loid or Franky earning Tonitrus bolts as punishment for their odd behavior (yet). It might be an underhanded reference to the drug instead. Stratus tucked that away to ask his sons about later when they were sober.

“Coach Briar?” Twilight mumbled when Stratus opened the door to their car.

“She’s there, don’t you see her?” Stratus played along, gesturing to the empty space in the back seat. “Go snuggle up nice and cozy.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when the obvious lie worked. Twilight shuffled inside the car and promptly collapsed on his back, caressing the leather of the seat as if trying to make a snow angel in the cramped space.

Franky, on the other hand, took more coaxing to get into the front passenger seat, where he would be spared the view of his ‘brother’ while Stratus focused on driving. 

“Just close your eyes and try to rest. We’re heading home,” he assured him, and buckled him in before the kid could change his mind and make a run for it. “Quick, music quiz! Name three instruments that have reeds.”

“Reeds…reeds…” Franky brought his hands up to his head again as if it took all his brainpower to recall what reeds even were. “Tuba.”

“…Sure. What else?”

And so the rest of the car ride passed in a series of impromptu quizzes where every answer counted, road trip songs, and games of “I Spy” out the window when Loid happened to drag himself upright. Stratus breathed a deep sigh of relief when they finally reached home and he closed their apartment door behind them.

He promptly steered Franky to his room for a nap and Twilight to the couch for the most boring TV program he could find—a nature documentary on coral reefs. Twilight slithered off the couch and crawled to the screen, where he pressed his face close enough to see individual pixels for the duration of the episode.

“Father?” he intoned when the credits began to roll. 

“Yes, son?”

Stratus had finished composing an indignant letter of complaint to the school, and was almost done preparing a hearty lunch complete with a spinach smoothie for hangovers, when Twilight cast his troubled gaze over to him in the kitchen. 

“Am I really Loid Forger? And am I really seventeen?”

Stratus looked at the wall clock with a wry smile. “Give it until three o’clock or so, and the answer’ll come to you on its own, champ.”

Between the banal afternoon news on TV, two spinach smoothies, and another antidote Stratus had dug out of his emergency supplies, self-awareness gradually, painfully returned to Twilight.

The throbbing pain in his forehead was nothing compared to the slow-dawning, all-encompassing horror of drawing a mental blank on the preceding six hours of his life since he and Franky had taken the bolt-shaped wafers.

Curled up on the floor of the living room, Twilight dug his fingers into his scalp and pulled at his hair. Tried desperately to breathe and not hyperventilate.

What had he done?

Had he blown his cover sky-high in front of the entire student body? And all the faculty?

Were the SSS preparing to storm the apartment right this minute? 

How could Stratus be so calm, standing there in the kitchen fixing up yet another smoothie in that earsplitting blender?

“Ah, you’re back,” Stratus called over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, son, I got everything under control.”

“...What?” was all Twilight could squeeze past the tightness in his throat. 

The older agent poured the murky green concoction into two tall glasses and brought one over to him, sitting down cross-legged next to Twilight. He gave a small wince as his ankle was still somewhat bothering him. He patted Twilight on the shoulder and smiled.

“Let me fill you in on the last six hours,” Stratus offered. “Long story short, the only thing we really gotta worry about is Handler.”

At some point Franky burst out of his room in a similar state of panic. Stratus invited him to sit on the floor beside them and listen in on the rest of the unspeakably mortifying, terrifying, damning account of their behavior under the influence.

Thirty minutes later, Twilight lay on his back on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling as his still-sluggish mind attempted to kick into gear. He had to come up with a plan to repair the gigantic spiderweb of cracks he’d inflicted on the perfectly polished pane of glass that had been his Loid Forger persona. But his headache intensified the more he tried to think, like trying to drive a twenty year-old car out of a ditch in the ice and snow.

“Sleep on it, boys,” Stratus advised. “At the end of the day, you did the right thing. If you’d refused the Desmond boy’s demands, the SSS might very well be busting down our door this very minute. You maintained your cover, and with some luck you’ll have proven yourselves to Demetrius and gotten one step closer to the objective. Just a small hiccup in the scheme of things!”

Twilight did not sleep a wink that night. And judging from the muttering and cursing in the room across the hall, neither did Franky.

Throughout the sleepless haze of the night and the dread-filled bus ride the next morning to school, memories of his acid trip came back to him in bits and pieces. 

The intense colors radiating from everything around him, especially the blueness of the sky. Where he’d believed he had been one with the rain.

Then the bloviating speeches about being one with the entire universe.

Withstanding Chloe Bernhardt’s questioning by a lucky hairsbreadth, via the cringeworthy refrain he’d held up like a paper shield: I am Loid Forger and I am seventeen.

Vaulting onto the roof and slamming his face into a window in front of all his classmates.

But after that, he had a long stretch of nothing. Somehow, he had gotten from literature class to the infirmary. He wasn’t sure if he had made it to PE in between. He hoped against all hope that he hadn’t. The tattered remains of his pride couldn’t take any more damage. He was already tempted to throw himself out the back of the bus and avoid going to school altogether. Why hadn’t Stratus just written them a sick note and kept them home one more day? Tomorrow was the weekend, and surely all the gossip would have blown over by Monday given how short teenage attention spans were.

The stark terror of simply not knowing what he had done made him grip the cheap flaky material of the bus seat until some of the dark sweat-stained vinyl caught under his fingernails. With everything he had lived through in his twenty seven years of life, he had thought war was the worst hell a man could experience. Operation Strix had proven him dead wrong. 

“Yo,” Franky whispered with a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

The concerned gesture brought him back to the present. Half of the kids on the bus were shooting sly, amused glances their way. Right. He still had a job to do, regardless of how abysmally he’d performed in that job just yesterday. 

Twilight straightened his posture and kept his expression as nonchalant as possible as he got off the bus and was immediately subjected to the stares of fifty-odd students on the lawn. He had a plan for the day. He’d gone over it with Franky and Stratus before leaving the apartment this morning. It was to act normal, stick with the cover story Stratus had provided (at least in front of the faculty), and not apologize for anything. 

It wasn’t much of a plan.

He managed not to flinch as several boys came up to him with wide grins and congratulatory shoulder punches. He managed not to turn around as he felt the vengeful gaze of his archnemesis Yuri Briar burning holes in his back all the way to the history building for his first class, and all throughout his second class which they shared, and finally in the claustrophobic sweat-stale space of the boys’ locker room before gym.

“Forger,” Yuri intoned behind him as he opened his locker, breaking his ominous predator’s silence.

Yuri had not thought it possible to hate the Forger brothers any more than he already did. But here he was, having been rebuffed at the senior class faculty advisor’s office when he’d tried to file a perfectly legitimate report of their egregious behavior from the day before.

“Headmaster Renault is personally handling this matter with the family,” Professor Markowicz informed him neutrally. “Thank you for your report, Mr. Briar.”

Which meant the report would be left to rot in some archival room and never read by any of the proper authorities at the school. Where was justice to be found? Loid Forger had very obviously been high off his ass throughout all of contemporary literature and gym—where he’d dared to make a pass at his sister! Yuri had seen the flustered look on her face as she jumped away from him, clearly appalled by whatever disgusting proposition he’d spewed at her. 

As if running across the roof and swinging face-first into a window hadn’t been enough, there’d also been his behavior on the way to the nurse’s office. If his sister had tasked any other classmate with bringing Loid to the infirmary, they would have surely lost him as he attempted to shake off Yuri’s hold and sprint down side corridors and even climb onto the roof (again). But Yuri was in peak physical shape thanks to his sister’s training, and managed to keep up with the guy until finally, after three detours, they’d made it to the nurse.

And then before shuffling inside, Loid had given Yuri a glassy-eyed smile and delivered his second strange and creepy compliment of the day. 

“Your sister’s in good hands with you as her protector, Yuri. You’re loyal and persistent to a fault. The SSS’ll be lucky to have you.”

Yuri had stood there dumbfounded, out of breath and bruised from wrestling his quarry all the way from gym class, as the nurse shut the door in his face. 

The SSS? What kind of backhanded compliment was that?! 

Yuri seethed the entire walk back to gym class, clenching and unclenching his fists in unvented fury and confusion. Of course he wanted to protect his sister, of course he’d always be watchful of her wellbeing, especially when it was threatened by smarmy cheaters like Loid Forger, but he could do that with an above-board, well-paying job at a bank or a law firm. 

Although…his greatest worry for his sister wasn’t material provision. It was that some good-for-nothing sweet-talker or professional con man or worse—a foreign spy—would take advantage of her overly trusting nature and ruin her life, if Yuri wasn’t there to sniff out his lies and ward him off. As a regular citizen, there was only so much he could do. But if he wielded actual power as a member of law enforcement, even the ill-reputed, widely feared State Security Service…

Yuri shook his head and concentrated on making it back to class quickly. He couldn’t let Yor down and miss any more of the exercises she’d painstakingly planned! 

As much as he tried to forget them, Loid Forger’s odd friendly comments had continued to needle him over the next twenty four hours. Yuri didn’t know much about drugs, but he had heard that people tended to speak the truth while high, without any filters blocking their subconscious. The thought unnerved and offended him all at once. 

Yuri knew that no one at school liked him. He knew that all his classmates grumbled about him behind his back and only paid him a modicum of respect to his face because they didn’t want detention. And that was fine with him. He didn’t need to be liked or appreciated. He was at Eden to earn top marks and graduate with high honors so he could get the best job possible to support his sister, not to waste his time trying to win some utterly useless popularity contest.

He especially didn’t need someone like Loid Forger to like him, not when he was at the top of Yuri’s watchlist for detention and potential expulsion if he could only find sufficient evidence for a faculty review! 

But…somehow, Loid’s drug-addled words wouldn’t leave his brain. Yuri told himself it was simply because he couldn’t understand why someone he’d blatantly antagonized since the first day he had shown up on campus would actually have a positive opinion of him. It just didn’t make sense. No one was that forgiving and pure-hearted, except his sister. And there was no way in hell Loid Forger was anything like his angel of a sister.

The conundrum bothered him so deeply that he almost felt glad for the chaos of the next day as the Forgers returned to school. The moment the two brothers got off the bus, completely sober judging from their nervous expressions and overly rigid posture, scattered cheers and a flurry of whispers greeted them from around the lawn. The bolder students went straight up to them and clapped them on the back as if they’d achieved some extraordinary feat. A loose crowd followed them all the way into the building for their first class. 

All the while Yuri lurked a good distance away, watching the pair with narrowed eyes and barely hidden resentment. How could they dare to show their faces in the prestigious halls of Eden College after straight-out committing a crime in broad daylight yesterday?

The answer eventually came to him among the wild salacious rumors flying every which way that morning. The Forger brothers were all his classmates could talk about. 

“I heard Loid parkoured onto the roof of the arts building and jumped onto the history building in a single leap!”

“I heard he got in a fight with a security guard, and the guy needed backup just to take him down! You’ve seen him in wrestling practice, right? He’s almost as good as Coach Briar!”

“I heard Franky almost drilled a hole into his own hand in woodshop, he thought it was a soap dispenser!”

“No way, he was huddled under a table the whole time, thought the school was a war zone! Maybe the rumors about one of them being a soldier’s true, but Franky’s the one who served.”

“My friend saw Loid making out with Coach Briar!”

(Yuri made particular note of the student who’d said this and swore they’d be stuck in a week of detention one way or another by the end of the semester.)

“...That’s an old rumor, dude.”

(Here, Yuri stabbed his ballpoint pen through several sheets of notebook paper in an accidental burst of strength, and had to rewrite his notes in pencil to be safe.)

“Well, I heard Coach Briar got into the car with him when his dad came to pick him up! He wouldn’t leave campus otherwise, apparently he’s got a mommy complex ‘cause he was really attached to his dead mom.”

“Hey, that’s not cool. You shouldn’t joke about that.”

“Just saying what I heard! Anyway, that’s what his own dad told the headmaster. That neither of them were high, they just had some crazy PTSD from the war or their mom’s death or something. That’s why they’re still allowed to come to school.”

“PTSD? What are they, veterans?”

“Nah, just commoners who happened to live near the front lines.”

“...I still think they’re thirty year-olds in some weird experimental unit at the SSS, sent to spy on us and the teachers.”

“You think the SSS would let their guys get high and run around on the roof? Or streak across campus in the middle of the night? They shoot people for doing shit like that.”

“Well then what are they? No way they’re just normal kids like us.”

What are they, indeed, Yuri snarled inwardly. He would get to the bottom of this Forger conspiracy if it cost him his spot on the student council next semester. The brothers weren’t only a threat to his sister’s wellbeing, but an uncontrollably disruptive, seditious influence on the entire student body. If this was what they’d accomplished within the first three weeks of arriving on campus, who knew the extent of the damage they’d cause by the end of the year?

“Yuri,” Twilight managed to say in Loid’s affable voice as he turned around. All his features were schooled to slight embarrassment and shame, even as right next to them, Franky didn’t bother looking apologetic at all. “Uh, sorry about yesterday.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed as he marched right up into Twilight’s personal space. Twilight was distinctly reminded of half a dozen missions where he’d coolly faced down hostile gang leaders and terrorists, sometimes with a literal gun to his head. Facing down a harmless teenager should have been child’s play. But, as with everything about Operation Strix, he was off his game. It took a herculean amount of effort to keep a poker face and not look away from the boy’s penetrating red glare.

“Don’t think this is over,” Yuri said brusquely. “Just because your dad hoodwinked the headmaster into believing some half-assed excuse doesn’t mean you’re off the hook with me. I know you two were high, the whole school knows it. I’ve got my eyes on you, and mark my words: next time you slip up, especially if you dare to step out of line with my sister, detention will be the least of your worries.”

Mercifully, the bell rang to signal the start of class, which cut the confrontation short and sent them all scrambling to finish changing. 

True to his word, Yuri took up a post right behind him like a probation officer, even though Loid took care to stand in the very back of the gymnasium, as far away from Coach Briar as possible. The pit of dread in his stomach deepened as he observed her reaction to his presence. She avoided looking at him entirely, which was not exactly new. But she flinched whenever he made the slightest move in her direction, regardless of the fact he was halfway across the gym from her.

As she worked the class to the bone with punishing laps and bleacher runs and agility exercises on the tennis courts, he had the sinking suspicion that she was doing all that to avoid the small possibility he’d actually work up the courage to approach her and apologize. 

It was convenient, really. A rational excuse to take the cowardly route and simply ignore whatever egregious misstep he’d made yesterday in her class. 

But then how could he continue on the wrestling team if the coach never spoke to him or looked at him? Would he have to quit altogether and choose a different sport for a Stella? 

For the sake of the mission, he had to set things right with her. Or at least try to. He just couldn’t do it right now, with her attack dog of a brother shadowing his every move. He told himself he wasn’t a coward as he retreated into the locker room with the rest of the sweaty, winded students at the end of class for a quick shower.

The spray of cold water helped slough off some of the unnecessary distractions bogging him down. He could not afford to lose focus or show weakness. Lunch was next, when he’d be a stone’s throw away from Demetrius, the instigator of this whole debacle. He could not be caught off guard again by the target’s sadistic machinations.  

He walked calmly into the cafeteria, mostly inured to the stares and whispers and giggles of his classmates by now. To his chagrin, Franky was already swaggering with misplaced confidence at their ill-gained notoriety. Twilight elbowed him as a subtle warning, which Franky stubbornly ignored. He bit back his annoyance and chose not to continue that particular battle at the moment.

In his peripheral vision he noticed Demetrius watching them as they took their usual seats at the shortlist table. The benches were extra crowded with onlookers from surrounding tables standing around, wanting to hear a firsthand account of the Forgers’ misadventures—especially what their father had managed to pull off.

“You two must have gotten all your crazy from him,” one of the boys joked. “Wish my dad was that badass!”

Twilight privately reminded himself to thank Stratus when they got home. In the near-asphyxiating panic of the past day, he hadn’t yet expressed his gratitude to the senior agent for his quick thinking and masterful acting in front of the disbelieving staff of Eden Academy. There was a reason Stratus had survived this long in the espionage world. He’d honed his skills in manipulation and deceit before Twilight had even been born, and there was much he could still learn from the man.

“Yeah, our dad’s something else,” Franky said with a grin. “We’d be dead without him.”

That was very nearly the truth, though even Stratus wouldn’t be able to save them from Handler at their next meeting. 

At the next table, Demetrius whispered in the ear of one of his cronies, Elliott, as they both glanced in his and Franky’s direction. Then Elliott stood up and approached them. 

Twilight tried to suppress the automatic sting of wounded pride as Elliott completely ignored him and went straight to Franky with a small folded up note between his index and middle finger. 

“See you in band,” was all the boy said as he let the piece of paper tumble down the front of Franky’s uniform. Franky fumbled to catch it and answered in kind, but Elliott was already walking back to Demetrius’ side. 

Naturally, every kid around them wanted to know what was in the note, but Twilight nudged Franky sharply when he was about to open it. Demetrius was watching them, and this was yet another test. 

Later, when he and Franky had a moment alone, they studied the note. 

2 of 3, was all it said.

“We passed the second trial?” Franky whispered excitedly. 

“Seems like it,” Twilight said as his mind raced. “We’ll need to find out what the final round could be.”

If Handler even gave them permission to proceed. The last trial would undoubtedly be a step up in risk and indignity compared to the one they’d just survived. Twilight couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole deceptively juvenile operation was like a continuous game of Frigian Roulette.