A/N: This is my very first fanfic. I wrote this and knew I had to post it somewhere, and since it will be Disney-related later, I figured I would create an account and post it here. I promise this is not as dark as it sounded in the summary. I was trying not to give away anything, and I think I might have tried a little too hard. Ah well. "Forward! Thus the bowl should run," as Shakespeare would say.

Disclaimer: This applies to the whole story, so I hope you're reading this, Walt! As much as I wish I could, since right now I would be vacationing on the Riviera with my personal valet, I do not own Disney or any of its franchises.

UPDATE: This story is being revised because I can't decide what should happen next. No major changes, just stuff added to help it make more sense.

UPDATE 1/18/2016: First chapter is edited and posted! I think it makes more sense now. I'm currently working on chapter 2 and hope to have it posted later today. By the way, I'm going to post this story on Wattpad as well. I just got an account there, and thought, "Why not?" So if anyone's interested, my username is PianoPlayer00.

Chapter 1: What's In a Name?

What's in a name? Now, most of you reading this will roll your eyes, scoff, and throw this paper aside at this overused cliché. Especially since it originated from Romeo and Juliet. But I will ask you, as the supreme overlord of this book, to not scoff or roll your eyes. There is a scientific study that shows that those who participate in this behavior have been known to die alone. In a dark alley. So in the best interest of your life, I suggest you continue reading.

Now, back to the name question. Everybody knows those common names, like Hannah, Jessica, Jacob, et cetera. Anyone with those names is likely to have their name accompanied by the first letter of their surname. I once heard of a kindergarten class that had six Hannahs in it. They numbered them Hannah 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. I knew Hannah 6. However, this was never the case of our main character. Her parents, upon her birth picked her up, gazed into her baby blue eyes and said… "Zerubbabel."

… … … … … … Just wanted to give you some time to process that. You must understand that Zerubbabel's parents meant well in giving her such a unique name. They thought it would make her stand out more, instead of being the quiet little nobody they knew she was doomed by genes to be. But for some unfathomable reason, no one else seemed to understand this. She was often laughed at for her name, and even called other names. She learned to endure this throughout elementary and junior high school. In an effort to make her sound more presentable or, well, human, her friends gave her the nickname Babby. This didn't really help anything, and they really couldn't begin to comprehend why. Eventually, though, Zerubbabel learned to tell everyone upon entrance to a new school year that her name was Zerubbabel and if they had a problem with it, she would give them a problem right in the mouth.

During sophomore year, one very popular and handsome boy had the audacity to taunt her. "Did your mom just puke and they named you after the sound she made?" he asked. Approximately two minutes later, the nurse's office became unusually excited with a student reporting imminent death, also known as a broken nose. After that incident, most students who valued their faces treaded carefully around Zerubbabel.

This outbreak of teenage toughness fueled Zerubbabel's desire to join an area of work that allowed her to channel this newfound toughness in an acceptable way. Therefore, she was recruited by a small private detective agency at age sixteen. It is also important for you to know that despite her rather unusual name, Zerubbabel had been named the "Most Likely to Become a Model" champion of her class for five years running. This meant that when she was recruited by the agency, called NINJA, they recruited her merely so they could have a flirtatious beauty to distract their enemy while the real agents did the "tough guy" work. She came to despise being the shallow temptress only used as bait in the very worst (though in her case, best of) circumstances, but work was work and she still hoped that she would someday be promoted to the more interesting work in the agency. So she stuck with them.

Many of her cases played out thusly: your everyday corrupt politician would meet a beautiful girl and take her to all the nicest restaurants, but right before he kissed her, the men that had been disguised as waiters all along would apprehend him and find out where his ill-gotten monetary gain was. And Zerubbabel wouldn't even be given even an insignificant share of the money.

However, she still hoped to do the real dirty work someday, so she began looking for another beauty to replace her. She searched and searched on the streets and at her university, for she was by now twenty years old, but she could not find a beauty to take her place. Most of them were too busy canoodling around to actually be able to hold onto an unattractive, bald, politician without any kind of payment.

Finally, Zerubbabel became so frustrated when the other agents only arrived barely in time to rescue her from kissing the most recent Baldie that she stomped over to her boss's office to confront him.

"Am I only ever to be the floozy and run around with all those disgusting men for the rest of my life? Do you actually think I will settle for that?! I have—"

"Well, we aren't going to keep you for the rest of your life," he interrupted. "We'll probably look to replace you when you turn 40. Women don't stay beautiful forever, you know."

Zerubbabel rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean," she said exasperatedly. "Still, I have mastered every type of self-defense, learned to shoot anything that stood still long enough with perfect aim every time, and developed some of the most important technological advancements of our time—"

"Great job on that new quantum computer, by the way. The commission from that one will buy us another 3D printer," he interrupted again.

"—and yet you still won't let me do the dirty work the men do!" Zerubbabel finished, breathing hard.

"Are you finished?"

Zerubbabel eyed him warily. "For now," she replied.

"You want the truth, so I'll give it to you. I did originally intend for you to only ever be the—what did you call it?—floozy, but if you can find someone to replace you, I'm sure that could change."

Zerubbabel deflated, shaking her head. "I've looked everywhere. The more beautiful the girl, the less she wants anything to do with bald governors."

"Ah," stated her boss, "That's where you're wrong. Let's see now…Art?" Her boss swiveled around in his chair, calling to his secretary out of the open door of his office.

"On it, sir," Art said. His fingers clicked on the computer keyboard for some time before the printer went to work. Art grabbed the papers and hurried to the office. "Here you are, sir."

"Thank you, Art. Go ahead and take a coffee break."

"Thank you very much, sir." Art exited the room.

"As I was saying, you haven't been looking in the right place. Now, I once kept tabs on one lovely woman named Indie. Perhaps you may have heard of her?"

"No. I would remember that name."

Ignoring this jab, he continued, "Well, about a year ago I had a few agents keep an eye on her, seeing as she was involved in a certain regular bout of greed and corruption. You wouldn't know of the case, since I made the executive decision that you didn't need to know.

"Anyway, we kept tabs on her. She was very beautiful, even more so than you. I tracked her movements until we solved the case, which you'll find are laid out in this," he waved the packet of papers.

Reaching for the papers, Zerubbabel asked, "So, what's your point?"

"I want you to track down this woman and convince her to join us. If you do, then I will gladly promote you."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I hope you learn to enjoy the follicly challenged."
"Right." Zerubbabel began flipping through the papers. "There doesn't seem to be any personal information in here. Is there a separate file or something?"

Her boss laughed.

"Oh."

"If it helps, she is fluent in French and English, loves animals, and has blonde hair and blue eyes."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"That's all we know?"

"Yep."

"Then how am I supposed to find her?"

"That, my friend, is your job to figure out. Now start looking."

"Yes sir."

Yet another A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! I am working on the second chapter currently, and will post it next week. Trust me, this is not the end! In the meantime, click that little "Review" button and type something up for me. I promise, it only hurts a tiny bit more than a cattle prod.