Author's Notes
This one may be slightly confusing for those of you who have only seen the anime, as it engages with one of Twilight's fellow spies, Nightfall.
While there will be some minor spoilers for future episodes of the series, and the manga, all that is really addressed here is the relationship between Nightfall and Twilight, and one minor detail from Issues 30-34 of the Manga.
Chapter 4
Agent Nightfall, in accordance with the values inculcated into her when she first became embroiled in spycraft, appreciated decorum and precision above all else. Stoic reserve served her well in any situation from cordial dalliances on dance floors and verbal sparring at soirees among the Ostanian elite, to frenetic shootouts with members of an organized crime ring, the taste of sulfur and copper on her lips as she engaged in a running gun-battle, scrambling to reach a getaway vehicle.
In the smokey-dark confines of one of WISE's hidden rooms, buried beneath the innocuous façade of a psychiatric hospital in Berlint, that same penchant for calm and poise served her well once again. The exchange unfolded precisely as Agent Nightfall had envisioned in her dreams a thousand times before. It was perfect down to the smallest detail of Twilight's olive-green suit jacket, pressed with those fine starched creases she adored, to the gleam of his cuff-links and the faint scowl across his lips that made him appear every bit the man she could recall from their training sessions when she was a initiate in WISE.
Proper. Capable. Assured. Dominant.
Even on his knees.
A position which she had, honestly, pictured him occupying for myriad reasons over the years – with his hands clasped before him in supplication. Quite frankly, he was utterly gorgeous in an icy refined fashion that nearly had her swooning, were she not well above such things.
"I should have listened to you when you tried to warn me," he began with a smooth confidence that belied his prostrate position, shuffling forward an inch across the tile floor.
To encourage him to rise because she liked a tall man, Nightfall extended a hand to help him to his feet. Having used underhanded tactics herself when on mission, she recognized that the skillful wiles of a woman, who had clouded his mind and atrophied his capacity for good judgment, were more than even the most respected spy in Westalis could hope to resist.
A flicker of gratitude flashing across his face was all that two consummate professionals such as them required. Merely that was enough to say everything that was required between them, kindred spirits, a man and woman who had been forged of cold iron. The perfect Ice King and Queen to complete Operation Strix together once they displaced that conniving and duplicitous wife of his.
Effortlessly despite his greater bulk, she hefted him upwards, savouring the kiss of his palm in hers (which she might not wash again), until he stood before her. The additional foot of height that he had on her and the breadth of his shoulders, enhanced by the tailored jacket that strained across his muscled shoulders rendered her positively minuscule in compare, but that was a proper balance that called to mind the way his chest had felt against her back when he tackled her to the ground and took a bullet for her, his body hot and heavy atop her, driving her into the floor hard just as she needed.
The fact that it was a rubber bullet didn't diminish the romanticism of that act.
"It's quite alright, Twilight," Nightfall assured him as she stroked a thumb over the back of his knuckles in an effort to soothe him, her expression still properly deadpan. "Together, we will be able to remove your wife and ensure that Operation Strix is an unqualified success."
"No." His head shook with unexpected violence, her mentor losing control all for her! "It's not acceptable. I allowed myself to become emotionally compromised."
"A craven harlot such as that woman," Nightfall spat, lacing her fingers with Twilight's and giving him a squeeze as she marveled at the size of those warm hands that had actually seen a manicure more recently than hers by all appearances, "who insinuated herself into your life and took advantage of your injured state to extract a proposal of marriage from you, has wiles that could overcome any man."
"No, Nightfall," Twilight assured, his blue eyes like crystalline icy sapphires melting in the same way that the burgeoning heat inside their depths threatened to thaw the frosty sinews of Nightfall's heart. Said heart began to jackhammer inside her breast. "It's not her."
Were it not for the years of impeccable training she had received from her senpa- uh, mentor, Nightfall might have been staggered by the sheer sincerity dripping from his tone.
"W-what do you mean?" she gasped.
"I could never have feelings for such a loose and inelegant woman," he assured in return.
"Then-"
"It was you!" Twilight slapped the back of his hand to his forehead, turning towards the wall in a dramatic expression of emotionalism that Nightfall had never imagined her beloved mentor capable of.
"Me?" She clutched his hand in both of hers, almost incapable of believing that at last her equal, her Twilight, the man who inspired her to become a spy, devoting her life to personal excellence just so she could prove herself worthy of him, was finally acknowledging the throbbing biological and emotional urges that neither of them could ever hope to restrain even a moment longer.
"Yes! You! I had to be away from you, for my love was too great." Even as he spoke, his voice hoarse with emotion, she had to bite down on her tongue to restrain it from attempting to silence him by penetrating his mouth. No interrupting the confession - everything that she'd ever dreamed! "I knew that were you to become my wife, it would be impossible for me to give you up no matter what happened! I would abandon our nation to run off with you!"
Such a self-sacrificial man - the consummate professional with whom to consummate a fake marriage, surely – breaking down like this all because of heady emotions too potent for him to endure or express!
This couldn't be allowed to stand any longer! Not when Yor had imperiled the entire future of both their nations!
"But for our nation," Nightfall insisted as she clutched at his lapel, just restraining herself from giving him a good and solid grope – merely to affirm that he was incredibly sexually attractive and any woman would be delighted to have her way with him, healing the wounds Yor had inflicted on his heart and bolstering his pride as a man and a spy, "it must be done!"
"I see that now." His voice was so contrite that it made her weak at the knees. Her! "Even if it means that we will have to remain together forever, with you raising Anya and all of our children with a firm hand so that they can become productive members of society rather than the indolent parasites that Yor would have reared in her image, and then retiring with me to a tropical island whereon we'll live out our Twilight years reminiscing over past adventures and laughing at the memory of the foolish woman who thought she could interpose herself between us!"
"Then marry me, my darling!" For some reason, and in a fashion that was vague and indefinable, this proposal was accompanied by Nightfall ripping off Twilight's shirt.
Well, one of the reasons was clear.
"My dear!" Twilight crowed, clutching her to his breast so that her cheek smooshed up to the robust curve of his pectoral.
"My heart!" she mumbled into muscle before turning up her face as he repositioned her, leaning in for a kiss with puckered pink lips.
"My-"
"Nightfall!"
With a start of shock, Agent Nightfall glanced up from the table, covered by notes, diagrams, and a strangely specific and detailed list of execution strategies that were as terrifying as they were ingenious.
With a few blinks to clear away the fuzz, her glazed eyes refocused on the passive features of her former mentor, Agent Twilight. In his hand, he held a notepad whereon he was still absently jotting down observations, working on compiling an appropriate itinerary for ... stalking his wife? That appeared to be the coded heading to his chicken scratch code. One arching golden brow was cocked in a display of either sardonic amusement or somehow judgmental indifference.
In an attempt to redirect his attention away from the faintest of blushes that prickled over her cheeks and the frantic beating of her heart, she shuffled about the documents on her desk, reviewing the assembled data points.
"Yes, Twilight?" she coughed while picking up one photograph, taken by way of a pinhole camera, depicting Yor in her nightgown. Vicious, jagged circles of red and black ink peppered the image of her body, and were accompanied by quasi-manic handwriting detailing speculations regarding possible signs of sexual intercourse or other intimate activities such as blemishes, suspicious bruising around her thighs – Nightfall had to pause to stare at those for a minute because even she had to admit that those were leg-goals right there - and hips, or love bites.
Unsolicited boudoir photography?
It was really rather romantic.
"What do you think of the evidence that I've accumulated and the plan that has been devised?" Twilight pressed.
The plan, such as Nightfall could discern as she shuffled through the collection of notes that had been presented to her, didn't extend particularly far beyond continual clandestine observation of his wife in order to determine her whereabouts and activities at all times, which, given manpower limitations, did seem somewhat impractical, if effective.
Still, a good spy didn't allow an opportunity to go to waste.
"The evidence is incontrovertible." Really it was rather threadbare, but suspicion from a man as brilliant as Twilight was all the proof that she needed to start arranging a firing squad. If they executed people for infidelity. The SSS really had to start doing a better job at being a nefarious and oppressive secret police force that operated at the whims of a corrupt nation's ruling elite.
Letting women take control of their own sexuality like that. Sloppy for a totalitarian dictatorship.
"Your wife is cheating on you."
Much as she might have regretted the tinge of sorrow that was surely professional aggravation as a result of his sham-wife's disruption of his mission when she had already proven to be such a burden – the woman couldn't even cook or shop for goodness' sake – the truth really had to come out. If Twilight believed it, it had to be true. Plus, he deserved a better wife. One who was properly trained and compatible, capable of assisting in his duties at the hospital, his mission by way of logistical support, and at home with a daughter who was clearly being allowed to run wild by his incompetent wife who probably got drunk during the day – Nightfall knew how easy that was for her – and prostituted herself at night.
Actually, whoredom was a distinct possibility, Nightfall realized as she stood from her chair, collecting a few pieces of the choicest evidence so that she could carry them over to a cork-board affixed to the wall and begin arranging them. That had been Yor's profession prior to her taking on a position at City Hall.
"Have you spoken with our handler about requisitioning resources?" She tapped a finger against Yor's bosom in the bedroom photograph as if attempting to judge their weight, and restrained a scowl as she came up… small. No matter. Any woman looked like she had impressive attributes if she was wearing something like that .
With a final few strokes of his pen, Twilight set down his notepad, rubbing at what appeared to be weary eyes. That bitch had done this to him. Rather than alleviating his burdens, creating a safe home environment both emotionally and physically through the construction of myriad booby-traps for intruders and hidden weapon caches throughout their well-maintained home, Yor had added to his troubles!
"I did, submitting an eighty page report on the resources that would be required."
"What kind of task-force do we have?" she asked as she contemplated various deployment strategies. It wouldn't be too difficult to sneak another operative into City Hall. "How many agents?"
Mournfully, Twilight shook his head as he joined her at the cork-board, pinning a photograph of Yor with Anya in her lap, the little girl's palms on her adoptive mother's cheeks, pinching them playfully.
"She denied my request." His voice was a strangely wistful sigh. Really, he should have been utterly outraged by Handler's refusal. Imagine, letting down their best agent in his time of greatest need!
"When something as vital as Operation Strix is at stake?" Nightfall asked with barely restrained incredulity. Of course, all the better since the refusal forced Twilight to come to her for assistance. She was the only one worthy of working alongside him, after all, and this situation, simply gifted to her by his unfaithful wife who had no idea how thoroughly blessed she was as she squandered Twilight's generosity, was yet another chance to prove it.
"Her exact words were ' get out of my office .'"
Nightfall's nose scrunched up for merely an instant before she tamped down on the reaction.
"That's it?"
"In stunned silence at the depth of my preliminary investigation, she did allow me to complete my full ten minute presentation," Twilight granted as he contemplated the situation in a fashion that made him look stern and studious, which was a very appealing look, conjuring a few other visions wherein Nightfall had been on her knees rather than Twilight. "I even included the slide-show that I shared with you earlier."
Well, the slides had been quite convincing.
"And that was how she responded? No analysis. No reasoning?" Obviously, spies were required to operate in the dark, compartmentalization of information vital to any intelligence operation so that a single captured agent couldn't compromise the entire organization. Was it possible that their Handler had some extensive Machiavellian plot in mind, pulling a dozen different gleaming silver spider-treads like razor-sharp piano wires, all ready to tangle around a target and slice them to bits?
"Well, no."
Nightfall pressed a thumb to her lip as she mulled. "What else did she say?"
"Nothing." His brow furrowed as if he was torn, debating something within himself. "Although..."
"Yes?" Nightfall asked.
A confused shrug was the first part of her answer. "She also laughed for five minutes to the point she started to weep."
" Weep ?" Was that an expression of pent-up yearning and empathy for Twilight's pains? Such ignoble and odious betrayal merited it, of course. It was a tragedy, possibly leading to a genre shift into a whirlwind romance, though.
Twilight blinked as if in confusion. Actually, now that Nightfall considered the matter, befuddled and bewildered on Twilight was rather sexy. "While pounding her fist on her desk."
"Well, then, we'll simply have to address this matter alone." That declaration was punctuated by a cool sneer.
With a studious air, Twilight folded his arms and surveyed the assembled evidence. After only a few minutes, she had already yoked several photographs and notes together with lines of colour-coded string.
"Your assistance in this matter is appreciated."
"Operation Strix is vital to the safety and security of our nation." How could she do anything less for her beloved mentor and fellow agent and future husband?!
Twilight appeared to inflate, swelling up in the most appealing and evocative of fashions. "I'm pleased that you, unlike Franky, have been able to approach this situation with the dispassionate rationality required to understand its importance."
"Irrationality or emotionalism will only compromise the mission." Nightfall had to keep a lid on that.
"And it's all for the mission."
"Of course." She nodded, confident of her dedication to the operation and its success which also required her to marry Twilight, aiding him in every endeavor including nocturnal stress relief after a difficult day.
"Of course ." Twilight nodded back with even more vigor.
See? Nightfall and Twilight, the two most formidable and accomplished agents in the Westalis Intelligence agency, were a perfect match in every way save for one, and by the end of this phase of the mission, if Nightfall had her way, they'd have that worked out in the most vigorous and possibly sweaty of fashions.
Several days worth of surreptitious observation yielded nothing untoward and no further evidence of Yor's infidelity. Between Nightfall and Twilight, the two agents handing off responsibly to trail his wife periodically so they could attend to their officially sanctioned duties, they had her covered at almost all times, Nightfall assuming the role of Ingrid Cognito , a secretary at City Hall, and Twilight taking on a janitorial position. He was nameless because no one noticed janitors.
Demands of her role with WISE coupled with two-agent twenty-four hour surveillance of a target, even one so dreadfully dull as Yor, took its toll on them over the week, however, and Nightfall could see the signs of stress and exhumation accumulating, growing more severe until, she knew, they would start to scream out to everyone like warning klaxons. Her reaction times were dulling, her mind fogging up and eyes beginning to throb. Each morning, she woke with that watery nauseous sensation in her gut that spoke to a complete absence of necessary rest.
Given their other responsibilities, it was clear that they wouldn't be able to last very much longer, a reality that she expressed to Twilight as they effected their customary changing of the guard one afternoon, meeting in an alleyway.
Currently, she was leaning against the far wall, brickwork rough and sharp against her aching spine. Despite perfect posture, secretarial work was backbreaking. It was possible that Ostania was testing new methods of interrogation and torture with those city hall chairs.
Twilight was similarly positioned across the alley from her, his eyes shut in contemplation with his hat sitting low on his brow.
"I am afraid that this strategy may not be viable for two agents," she admitted.
"I begin to suspect that as well, but what other choice do we have?"
"Do you have any idea what might precipitate her meetings with this... lover of hers?" Nightfall inquired even as she tried to catalog Yor's interactions over the past days on the schedule sheet that she withdrew from her pocket. Nothing about people was truly random. "Perhaps we should review the data points you've collected again in order to attempt to determine a pattern."
The smooth flesh of Twilight's brow pinched up, giving him the faintest appearance of strain that Nightfall really wanted to see in a different context. "I've not been able to find one thus far, but another pair of eyes may help."
"Did you consider her reproductive cycle? It's possible that she has ... desires that wax and wane."
"I... hadn't taken that into account." Twilight admitted that with as much sheepishness as she'd ever seen from him, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other as he heated up with clear frustration at the situation. Nightfall could empathize.
Yor's behavior did bear some explanation, and Nightfall was in precisely the position to provide it. "There are simply some women, Twilight, whose ... appetites cannot be satisfied by one single man, no matter how capable."
Twilight's eyes fluttered open, yet remained dangerously narrow in the most demeaning of ways that now had Nightfall squirming, her thoughts spiraling out into a completely different direction.
"I do not care for what you're insinuating, Nightfall. It must be emotional. I've failed to offer appropriate emotional validation and support. After all, she's never once expressed even the slightest concupiscent inclinations towards me."
Nightfall rocked backwards, knocking the back of her head into the wall behind her, as if struck by the revelation, though years of training under Twilight – though, sadly, never " under" Twilight – had granted her the ability to conceal anything more than the most minute expression of shock as she brushed a blonde bang away from her widened eye so that she could stare down her resolute and sober mentor.
That explained so much, really.
The inability to find a boyfriend or husband.
The necessity of concealing her relationship status from her brother for years, as Twilight had reported.
Entering into a sham marriage.
The fact that she seemed to cling on to that gaggle of harpies and sirens and medusas - whose ugliness would turn men to stone - and other such suitably hideous and dangerously beguiling mythological creatures at City Hall.
Yor was a lesbian .
"It's entirely possible that she is one of that perfidious and perverse sort who requires a form of ... illicit stimulation." That served as an appropriate euphemism. No need to unveil her earth-shattering discovery to her professional – and soon sexual, uh, personal partner – prematurely. Given Twilight's skill, there was no room for anything premature in their relationship. "The thrill of the taboo."
There was no way that Loid could possibly remain committed to Yor, even if her infidelity was curtailed, once they proved that she was actually seeing another woman. Whatever the social taboos, Nightfall didn't quite judge others' inclinations, even is she found it impossible to understand quite how any individual could fail to be enamored with Twilight.
Twilight scoffed as if the idea were as ridiculous as the notion of living in an undivided Berlint. "I would have noticed it, were that the case."
"The depraved depths of a wife's heart are only something that another woman can truly understand." Although no one would understand the dark and fathomless abyss of abject degeneracy that would be opened up when Nightfall finally succeeded in displacing Yor from the sham marriage with Twilight. He simply had to be so frustrated, never being able to find relief or satisfaction due to his wife's inclinations.
"I've spent my entire adult life studying the human condition for precisely this reason." Possibly to pause for thought, Twilight reached into the sagging and creased breast pocket of his workman's jumpsuit and withdrew a packet of cigarettes to light up. "I've seen into the very heart of darkness, and would know if Yor were such a woman."
"Regardless, your concerns were well-justified." An absolute certainty, given Nightfall's keen insight into the female mind. "But we may need to find an alternative means of identifying her partner."
"Do you have anything in mind?"
"Not as of yet, but I will give the matter some thought," she said as she turned towards the end of the alleyway, straightening the collar of her coat.
"As will I."
That sufficed for their exchange, Nightfall leaving her fellow agent with nothing more than a perfunctory nod.
Yor's lack of attraction to men was obvious, given that she'd managed to keep her hands off Twilight – Twilight , of all people! – rather than throwing herself at him or, somehow, accidentally crawling into his bed naked to wait for him to get home from work.
That predilection could prove a positive, really, Nightfall realized as she mulled over the matter in her apartment later that day. After an evening jog and an hour in the gym to maintain her figure and keep herself sharp, she had indulged in a very lengthy, steamy-hot shower and settled in with a cup of chamomile tea to help her relax before bed. Thoughts of Twilight had been an inspiration throughout, provoking her to work most vigorously.
Leaning her head back against the sofa cushions, she stared up at the white paneling of her apartment ceiling.
This situation was ideal, really. Not only would Twilight be forced to admit her superiority as a partner in Operation Strix, but the infidelity would leave him with a naturally bruised ego. Inflated pride was a failing that all men, even her beloved and nigh-perfect mentor, tended to possess. That kind of vulnerability would inspire an impulse to reassert his own masculinity and virility, particularly if, as Nightfall had surmised, he had been displaced not just by another man, but by a woman with a hunk of plastic and rubber.
But she had to prove that Yor's dalliances were with a woman – possibly multiple women as Nightfall wouldn't put anything past her – in short order or she and Twilight would be too exhausted to continue their operation. That made it a gilt-edge priority that she act quickly.
Never let the enemy dictate the terms of engagement; never allow the target to control you. Rather, a good agent could manipulate people like pawns on a chessboard and then swoop in as an ice-white queen to knock off each vulnerable piece on the board.
Yor was a lesbian.
That was what she really had to prove and the rest would fall into place. All she had to do, and quickly since neither she nor Twilight were going to last much longer on this schedule, was give the line of dominoes a quick little push.
And the best way to do that?
Was simply to seduce Yor herself.
It was the only reasonable solution.
As she dozed off on her couch, Nightfall was stuck by the wispy trail of a thought that she might be allowing her emotions to compromise her judgment in this situation and that she should really reevaluate the evidence that they had accumulated, and the resultant plan, when she was not suffering from intense sleep deprivation alongside two other forms of deprivation that even her vigorous and lengthy shower had failed to assist her in addressing.
Sadly for her, that notion was lost in the mists of sleep, forgotten, like a bad dream, in the light of the morning.