Chapter Text
For a country teetering on the brink of a bloodbath, its capital city was awfully quiet. Street lights lazily flickered their warm light across the rainwashed streets. Cars hummed through leftover puddles. Pedestrian chatter carried on the crisp air.
And yet, she could almost feel the lurking danger. The growing unease. Standing there on the steps of her apartment building, she could just about see the city’s shadows grow darker. Sharper. Ready to slice through the mere threads that held up this pretty picture of peace.
The glossy sheen of a black limo suddenly broke away from those shadows and turned a corner, interrupting her thoughts. With a soft splash, it pulled up to her apartment building and the door swung open, depositing an already inebriated gentleman. He was trying to hide it, of course. Brushing his golden hair out of his eyes. Flashing her a charming grin. But there was no mistaking the sloppiness of an otherwise impeccable mauve suit. He had undoubtedly wasted the late afternoon with his friends before coming to see her.
“You look a treat,” he chuckled, slightly stumbling on his way up the steps. A whiff of alcohol and sweat hit her full on, but she only smiled, brushing at her blonde updo.
“Thank you for picking me up, Karter.”
“Anything for you, my dear.”
He habitually kissed her then took her hand. It was clammy. But Westalis’ best agent merely adjusted her fascinator hat and allowed herself to be led into the limo. And to what she hoped was the end of what had quickly become her least favorite mission.
The dinner–as all things with Karter–was bland and overpriced. And the conversation more so.
“Ugh, you should’ve heard Father today,” he sniggered, leaning back on his chair and swirling his drink. “Nearly made me late for my golf match, he was so torn up about some stupid pictures of his toupee,” he took a swig and glanced over at her above the rim of his glass. Obviously waiting for her to laugh. But she found herself unable to dredge up so much as another fake smile, masking it with a delicate bite of her dinner.
“Roslyn,” his smirk took on a sudden edge as he straightened. “I don’t think you’ve been listening to me all night. What, was I late picking you up or something?”
He was, but that hardly mattered. She was lucky she’d snatched those toupee photos when she did. Half a minute later and there could’ve been trouble. A disguise could only go so far, after all. She was lucky she didn’t have to resort to violence as even the dullard across the table from her might’ve noticed a new bruise or sudden limp. Though the foreign minister’s being follically challenged hardly seemed the stuff to ignite a war, tensions were already high and they couldn’t afford any stray sparks or loose ends.
Speaking of loose ends. She glanced up, still chewing demurely at her minuscule entree. Then swallowed. “I was listening. How unfortunate.”
Karter’s eyes narrowed and he studied her carefully, but a sudden burst of cheers and applause drew his attention. Roslyn glanced over as well to see a man kneeling in front of a blushing young woman, ring box open and expression earnest. Meanwhile, her date chuckled and took another sip from his drink before his half-lidded gaze slid her direction.
Roslyn’s gut clenched. This had gone on long enough. The Agency had what they needed. The crisis had been averted. Further complications would only cause suspicion. It was time to make a clean escape.
“You know. That could be us one day, Roslyn.” He reached a hand across the table, but she busied hers with dabbing at her face with a napkin.
“Karter, let’s break up.” In the end, the words slipped out easily. Like a long-held breath.
“What?” he coughed out something like a laugh. Several emotions chased each other across his face, finally landing on anger. “Roslyn, what–”
But she was already standing from her chair and grabbing her coat. “I’m afraid you’re just not that intelligent. Bye. Best of luck to you.”
“Roslyn!” Karter made to get up, but only managed a drunken stumble, narrowly catching himself on the table and jostling the dishes. “Hey! You can’t just walk out on me!”
Watch me.
She had no further use for Karter or his father. And she was most certainly done playing the part of Roslyn. Dreams of marriage and a normal, happy life? She’d thrown those away the day she’d become a spy, along with her true identity.
She turned in her keys to the apartment and was on the train bound for Berlint, coffee in hand, likely before Karter had even recovered from his hangover. She had left no trace of her former life. Not even so much the slip of paper above the postal box with her name. To all who had known her before, ‘Roslyn’ had simply vanished. She knew Karter would give up the search within an hour and that his father was too busy with his own affairs to care.
It was a clean break, leaving her open and available for her next mission.
She picked up the newspaper–the one an informant had discreetly handed off to her at the station–and adjusted her reading to the cipher he had clued her in on. His quiet, though unmistakable ‘meow’, indicated cat, or Cipher C.
The agent took a sip from the dark roast warming her fingers and settled in.
Good day, or perhaps good evening Twilight.
Excellent work on your last assignment. For the good of our country, the minister lived to see another day all thanks to you.
Now then. Here is your next mission. Your target is the head of a national unity party, Diana Desmond. A grave threat to the truce between East and West. You’ll need to get close to her and probe for any suspicious activities. In order to achieve this, you must get married and have a child.
Twilight choked on her coffee, nearly spilling it down her blouse.
“Say what?” she hissed. Setting her drink aside, she now gripped the paper with both hands, rereading to ensure she hadn’t mixed up the code.
Due to her suspicious nature, Diana is a total recluse. Her only social appearances are events held at the elite private school her daughter attends. They serve as the social get togethers for the upper echelon–politicians, and industrial leaders.
A photo of the target had been included in a recent article. She certainly looked the part of the recluse–pale, gaunt, with limp dark hair. Her enormous eyes appeared to be looking at everything and nothing all at once.
You will have your child enrolled in this school and infiltrate one of these social gatherings. However, the enrollment deadline is drawing near. In one week to be precise.
Her fingernails tore through the paper. “I’m supposed to have a kid in seven days?!”
The hum of conversation from her fellow passengers suddenly went quiet and several confused gazes shifted her direction.
The agent cleared her throat.“…pardon me.”
When their attentions eventually subsided, Twilight read the rest of the message:
We’re calling it Operation Strix. It's the key to maintaining peace between East and West and perhaps the entire world.
You are the type of hero who casts no shadow. Your great deeds never see the light of day. Although you won’t receive any medals or public fanfare, don’t forget that your blood, sweat, and tears make everyone else’s day-to-day lives possible.
She sighed, lowering the paper, and wishing she had mixed up the ciphers. As her mind reeled with all that her new mission would entail, her eyes idly scanned the train car and its occupants. A child pretending his toy horse was racing across the hills outside the train window. Two young, dreamy-eyed lovers sitting hand-in-hand. An elderly gentleman happily prattling on about his grandchildren to those sitting across from him.
Her eyes fell shut for a moment. She had thrown away her identity when she became Twilight. She had nothing left to lose.
These people on the other hand…
Resolved, she turned her attention to the passing scenery and found her coffee again. Though she could hardly imagine herself in this new part they wanted her to play, she would take on the role of mother if it meant the world would be a safer place.
Almost as soon as she stepped off the train, Twilight set to work setting up her new identity. First, she would need a new wardrobe. One befitting the mother of a successful Eden student–elegant but moderately so. Nothing that would draw too much attention, but would allow her to blend in with the other upper crust parents. Whatever she selected would also need to double as her work attire as this particular identity involved professional employment to assist her in contacting her target.
She settled on an olive green skirt suit with a crisp white blouse and a red neck scarf. A white cloche hat, trimmed with a black ribbon tied in an understated black bow, and a simple pair of pumps completed the look. After purchasing the clothes, she slipped into the ladies room to change, tie her blonde hair up in neat chignon, and apply light makeup. Stylish, but not stark.
Next, she would need to find a new apartment. Unlike her last one—high end, luxurious, and intended to match her place on the arm of the son of a foreign minister—she would need to find something simple and safe. Something that wouldn’t cost the agency a fortune, should the child damage the property.
On her kind of time limit, she couldn’t afford to be choosy. She narrowed her options down to four requirements: a quiet community, large enough to comfortably house a family, clear of wire taps, and easy access to multiple escape routes. A furnished unit would be an added bonus–there wasn’t time to wait on deliveries.
After visiting what complexes allowed walk-in tours, she decided on a pleasant place in the middle of town. The interior was cozy enough and the neighbors seemed pleasant. It would do.
The leasing agent gave her a friendly smile as he handed over a clipboard with the paperwork. Twilight scanned the fine print with precision and, satisfied, signed her new alias:
Lois Forger. Occupation: Psychiatrist. That was the role she would be playing. A woman with a loving family and a happy home.
“I’m sure you and your family will love it here,” the agent assured, giving the apartment one last look-over. “So tell me. Do you have a boy or a girl?”
“Uh,” she hesitated. “Guess I’ll be deciding that soon.”
His gaze leapt back to her, “Huh?”
She handed back the clipboard, suddenly feigning shyness. “My husband and I have not been as fortunate as most families. We are in the process of adopting.”
As she’d expected, the leasing agent’s expression softened. “I hear orphanages right now are overflooded. They probably have been, ever since the war. You and your husband are doing a great thing, Mrs. Forger.”
The smile didn’t reach her eyes. It all sounded like a real burden for a spy. Children weren’t mere accessories to a disguise, they required care and attention. It would divide both her focus and her energy, possibly making her less effective at her job as a spy, even if having a child was a vital part of her mission. As mundane as motherhood might have sounded in comparison to an otherwise high-risk, high-demand career, Twilight couldn’t shake the sense that she was about to embark on her most challenging assignment yet.