SPCFC VI: The Protagonist With A Thousand Faces
PROLOGUE
They're just harmless character files, she told herself.
Again and again, she chanted the words like a mantra, as if by the repetition she could absolve herself of any culpability. It isn't sensitive information. There's nothing of value anyone could learn from them. They're just character files.
The monitor hummed in the dark room, the lines of the latest message burning across the screen. The blonde woman averted her gaze from the glowing words to look at the color-coded folders in her hand, and realized that the pages were trembling in her grip. She had done this a dozen times before; why should this set of files be any different? They were only basic character files, personality reports, placement histories. Nothing of any tactical value whatsoever.
With a deep breath, she opened the top file and tapped a series of code numbers into the computer to retrieve the folder's electronic counterpart from the database. She copied the electronic file and linked it to the message, then opened the next folder to repeat the process. She couldn't imagine why anyone would be interested in these characters, anyway: Here was a psychopathic doctor named Glening. Here was a broken-down fantasy wizard, too generic to have his own backstory. Here was yet another noble-born vampire named Alucard. These characters were of no concern to the SPCFC, beyond filling their mundane roles in their own nondescript fictional worlds.
The problem, this time, lay with the last file in the stack. The woman opened the final folder and looked at the photograph clipped to the top page. The determined eyes of Lucrezia Noin gazed back at her from the picture, and the blonde woman sniffed back conflicted tears.
He had never requested a personnel file before. The names had always been of random, inconsequential characters. This was the first time he had demanded the file of anyone on the SPCFC's roster – but one of the Directors! It had to be a coincidence, she told herself. For all she knew, the names in each message were selected randomly; perhaps Noin's name had simply fallen into this week's lot by pure chance.
Her eyes flicked back to the message on the screen, hunting once again for the name in the signature. She knew that Joker had not sent the message by his own will, if he had sent it at all. She knew that he was nothing more than a hostage. Blackmail. Leverage, to make her do what they wanted.
She knew that, and still she could not resist tapping out the number that would add Noin's file to the list.
"You're a traitor, Wendy Earhart," the blonde woman whispered to herself. The words hung in the empty room, accusing her, as she sent the message.