The stack of papers thudded onto the desk like there was a personal offense involved between the two.

Sylvia Sherwood, WISE's most overworked and underappreciated agent handler, leaned forward to inspect, having pushed her chair back to escape the shockwave. She prodded it with one finger, half-expecting it to explode into even more paper. There were parts she liked about her job, but the way people assumed she actually like reading through reports was not one of them.

"You cannot be serious," she said, looking up over the rim of her glasses at the agent sitting in front of her desk.

"The mission yielded a lot of information, and I was trained to be thorough," agent Nightfall said coldly, returning her gaze through one iron eye. "Every detail I give in there is important. You will understand once you read it."

"Well then let's just start with the really, catastrophically important details," Sylvia said, pushing Nightfall's report to one side, confident that she would never read it herself. The way Nightfall could wring 500 pages of single-point text out of the most basic assignments had a certain grim novelty, but Sylvia had long ago foisted off the duty on an unfortunate subordinate. She gave it one last sidelong glance, confirming that, as always, Nightfall had somehow managed to deliver the slab of paper with only a single staple.

Nightfall nodded curtly, ignoring the treatment of her report. "Where specifically would you like to begin?"

"How about why the hell you're in front of my desk right now? The assignment was supposed to last for another few weeks, at least," Sylvia said.

"The assignment was to monitor and report on the actions of Stuart Schadler, assistant to the Finance Secretary of the National Unity Party, for collection of blackmail material and possible recruitment as a double agent," Nightfall said, as coldly as ever. "The objectives are now pointless because the man is dead."

Sylvia paused, staring at Nightfall as she poked the report absentmindedly. "Dead? Since when?"

"Since around seven-thirty this morning," Nightfall said. "Not through any agent action so far as I can tell, ours or otherwise."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I know of no agency that would kill a man by causing him to slip on a banana peel into the path of an oncoming bus."

Sylvia stared at her once more. Then, breaking a personal code of ethics, she tore open Nightfall's report and began flipping towards the back.

"You're looking for page four hundred and sixteen," Nightfall said calmly.

Sylvia stopped on the page without question. There it was, right above the page number in black and white. Even the bus. Even the banana peel. She sighed as a familiar feeling washed over her once again. You trained agents, you made plans, you made counterplans, you oversaw every detail like a hawk, and still the universe would just throw a brick through everything you built on the slightest whim. A misplaced banana peel was all it took to lose the agency a potential asset and drop one of Nightfall's reports onto her desk weeks ahead of schedule.

"We have summaries at the front of these things for a reason, Nightfall," Sylvia said. "Intelligence isn't just information, it's organization. Twilight trained you on this sort of thing."

Nightfall shifted slightly at the mention of her old mentor. It was so subtle as to be almost imperceptible, but Sylvia had seen her do it enough times to recognize it. Nightfall was probably the most ambitious agent she had, and presumably didn't like to be judged by her early days.

"I appreciate being reminded of my responsibilities," she said, the tiniest hint of stiffness managing to slip out of her steel trap voice. "Do you mention Twilight because you require me to help him on another assignment?"

"Not at the moment, no," Sylvia said. She picked up a folder that had been living on her desk recently, full of Twilight's comprehensive but more importantly concise reports. "I have him on a long term assignment. I suppose I'll draft you a briefing, because chances are you'll need to support him in the near future." And it wasn't like the other agents could shut up about it anyway.

"Oh?"

"It's called Operation Strix," Sylvia said. "We have Twilight posing as the father of a child in order to make contact with Donovan Desmond through Eden Academy. So far he's managed to find somebody to pose as his child and arranged an entrance interview with Eden, though as of his last report he's still behind on securing a wife."

Sylvia flipped through the most recent report idly, making sure she hadn't gotten any details wrong. No, of course Twilight had gotten everything across with his usual efficiency. She smiled at the photo of the child, and put the report back down to see Nightfall staring into space, pupils dilated and nostrils flared.

A faint screech reached Sylvia's ears, which she eventually identified as the sound of Nightfall hissing through her teeth at a pitch high enough to alarm dogs.

"Agent Nightfall?" Sylvia said cautiously.

There was a wheeze as Nightfall seemed to inhale for the first time in half a minute. "My apologies," she said hoarsely. "Tell me. Would it not be better if Twilight had another agent to pose as his wife on this assignment?"

"We didn't have the option at the time. The female agents we still have were all out on assignment, until you came back." Sylvia watched Nightfall with curiosity, because though her face had returned to its usual blank state, her eyes were burning with white-hot intensity. This was unusual, coming from her. Was she so upset to see Twilight handed such a high-profile assignment?

"I see," said Nightfall, who was clearly seeing a lot right now, quite possibly beyond the visible spectrum. "So Twilight is selecting his decoy wife as we speak?"

"We're letting him use his own discretion," Sylvia said. "Knowing Twilight, he's probably already found one."

Nightfall rocketed to her feet, sending her chair flying behind her with a crash.

"I am leaving because I have to go to the bathroom," Nightfall declared. "We will continue this debriefing later."

"The ladies room is being cleaned right now," Sylvia said. She leaned over to look at the chair behind Nightfall, still vibrating slightly as it stuck into the wall.

"That's-fine-as-I-prefer-to-use-a-bathroom-outside," Nightfall said in the space of about half a second as she walked out of the office at a casual saunter of thirty miles an hour.

After a moment she rocket-sauntered back into the office and grabbed the report on Strix off Sylvia's desk. "It-would-be-good-of-me-to-review-this-while-I'm-on-the-toilet."

Sylvia watched with trepidation as she left. Nightfall and Twilight were both good agents, but Nightfall was clearly too competitive for her own good. If she tried to disrupt Operation Strix, to turn it into some self-destructive glory-hounding contest, then Sylvia would have to question whether to even keep her on as an agent. It would be shame to lose such a good asset for such a petty reason.

Hopefully Twilight would manage to bring her back over to his side.

A few minutes later she got a call from upstairs, asking why a woman had ripped the door off its hinges on her way out of the building.

"Tamer shop! Tamer shop!"

Anya's steps rapped off the pavement as she ran down the sidewalk, taking care to avoid every crack lest the rumors about mother's backs be proven true. "Tamer shop! Papa's taking me to the tamer shop!"

"How many times have I told you not to go too far ahead of me?" Papa said from behind her. "Come back here, you need to hold my hand while we're out." I don't need any more old ladies almost blowing my cover this week.

Anya grinned to herself as she wandered back and let Papa take her hand. She was part of papa's cover! She was so cool! "When are we getting to the tamer shop, Papa?"

"It should be just around the corner here. And it's a tailor shop, not a tamer shop," Papa said. "We need to make you more presentable, so we're buying you new clothes, remember?"

Anya did not in fact remember that. "No tamer?"

"How would a tamer make you more presentable?"

Anya opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Somehow she knew that Papa would never understand the obvious fashion appeal of riding a lion.

An alarm blared on a street a few blocks from them, accompanied by a crash of metal. Anya felt Papa's hand grip hers a bit tighter, and they increased pace slightly, though he didn't shift expressions or look around.

"What was that?"

"Just a car alarm, Anya. Don't worry." That was the fourth car alarm since we left the apartment. They've all been getting progressively closer, too. It's possibly just a coincidence, but I need to be extra aware of my surroundings. If I don't spot any immediate explanation while we're out, I'll ask the agency to look into enemy movement in the area. It wouldn't be the only time I've had somebody try to keep up with me by wiring a car.

Anya followed him in silence for a block, wondering why wiring a car would make that noise or why you would want to make a car out of wire anyway.

As they reached the corner that led onto the street with the supposed tamer/tailor shop, Anya stopped as Papa suddenly yanked her hand back. He led the two of them over to the side of the building without saying anything, but Anya quickly realized what was going on. There was a loud gusting noise coming down the street in front of them, as though an object were approaching at high speed, and a few screams that sounded like people diving out of the way.

Though Papa couldn't have noticed the part that concerned Anya more, which was the wave of thoughts pouring down the street at them. She couldn't even interpret what sort of feeling it was, it was just a giant cacophonous ball of roiling emotion, unlike anything she had ever felt before, and rushing straight at them. She screwed up her eyes, and with great effort of will managed to block it out to nothing but a dim buzz.

Papa looked down at her and scowled. He positioned himself in front of her, and watched as the rushing air grew more intense in front of them.

Just as it seemed something should have blasted out in front of them, the noise stopped with a final gust of air and a faint screeching sound. After a few moments, a lady with her bangs covering one eye walked out in front of them.

"Hello, Loid," she said calmly, her shoes steaming slightly.

Papa stared at the lady incredulously. He seemed to relax a bit, but Anya noticed that he still kept himself slightly in front of her. "Hello. We were just on our way to the tailor on this street." What are you doing here, Nightfall?

"I was just out for a walk. I seem to have caught you on your way there." My previous assignment completed today. I was told you require assistance. "Would you like me to accompany you? I know the place well." The mission is too critical to leave in the hands of a single agent, even you, Twilight.

Anya turned her head from side to side, feeling her head start to heat up as she struggled to follow both conversations at once. Somehow Papa and this cyclops lady were talking words while also meaning something else with their brains, and somehow they were both following both. An alarming thought suddenly crossed her mind. Papa and this lady can't read minds too, can they?

She considered for a moment. Then, studying both of them closely, she thought PAPA IS A SPY AND REALLY DUMB! as hard as she could think.

"Are you familiar with the shop?" Papa said, thankfully ignoring her. How did you track me down?

"Very." Your neighbors mentioned you were out. Your movements were easy to deduce from there, Twilight, as you took the most obvious civilian route. You're getting sloppy and you need agency assistance whether you admit it or not. I'm willing to provide you with the help you need.

Anya struggled with the last bit. It was getting harder to hear the cyclops's direct thoughts while also blocking out that huge wave of emotion radiating off her. Maybe all of this would make more sense if she just read those thoughts too.

Anya looked up into the steely gaze of the cyclops.

I GET TO BE HIS WIFE

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DARLING AND NOW WE CAN BE TOGETHER JUST LIKE I ALWAYS WANTED

MY DARLING TWILIGHT WILL BE ABLE TO SEE WHAT A GREAT WIFE I CAN BE AND THEN WE CAN BE HUSBAND AND WIFE FOR REAL

WE'LL BE EATING THE SAME MEALS AND SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED AND HIS FACE IS THE FIRST THING I'LL SEE EVERY MORNING

WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE OH THE WORD IS JUST TOO WONDERFUL WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFEWIFE

"Anya? Anya!"

Two hands lifted up Anya, who blearily opened her eyes to find herself leaning against Papa's shoulder with a faint headache. "Just tell me if you're feeling tired, Anya. You can't lie down on the sidewalk."

"What a lovely girl. Are you buying her some school clothes?" the cyclops said. Is this the civilian operative? Anya leaned her head back into Papa's shoulder, trying her best not to catch any of her other thoughts.

"Yes, I'm hoping she'll be able to get into Eden Academy this year." Yes, I'm hoping she'll be able to get into Eden Academy this year.

"You!"

Anya rubbed one ear. She looked over Nightfall's shoulder, where a portly bald man came running around the corner straight at this. His red face and sheen of sweat suggested that he had just run for several blocks, and the expression on his face suggested that he was rather unhappy about that.

"You!" he said, waving an angry finger at the cyclops. "You stepped on my car!"

"I beg your pardon?" the cyclops said.

"Don't play dumb!" Baldy said. "I saw you step right on it as you ran across the intersection! That car is a classic model worth half my salary, I want at least ten thousand dalcs for you disrespecting it like that!"

"If you respected the car so much, you wouldn't park it across a civilian crossing at an intersection," the cyclops said. "You shouldn't complain if somebody gets a little dirt on it."

"You ripped the front fender off!"

Papa watched the one-sided shouting match with apparent surprise and concern, that for once was matched by his inner monologue. Anya didn't bother listening to most of it, just the usual stuff about his mission and not wanting to attract attention that she had already gotten used to. This was looking like the sort of boring grown-up argument that had nothing to do with gunfights or explosions, so Anya's thoughts started drifting back to what she had glimpsed from the cyclops's mind.

She clearly knew Papa, and Papa knew her, but for some reason they were pretending not to? And they kept talking about 'the agency" and spy stuff and Operation Sticks. And the cyclops loved Papa and wanted to be his wife, but for some reason didn't tell him that. That part made sense, all the lady characters Bondman met loved him too.

Anya watched Baldy shouting at the impassive cyclops as the pieces slowly clicked into place.

Spy talk + Knows Papa + Wants to help = Spy Lady

Spy Lady + Papa + Wants to be Papa's Wife = Spy Lady Mama

She gasped. Of course! It all made perfect sense! Papa had been saying he couldn't find a Mama for her, so he had gotten a spy to be one! Anya couldn't believe her luck; two spies meant twice the excitement! Twice the silenced pistols! They could even do that thing where they posed back-to-back and shot bad guys together! She couldn't wait!

This has been going on way too long. I might have to ask her to leave.

Anya gasped again, for the opposite reason, when she listened back in on Papa's thoughts. I suppose I still need someone to play the wife, but Loid Forger isn't a man who gets into arguments with strangers on street corners, and his wife shouldn't be either. I should send her back to get a new disguise and cover story. And maybe I shouldn't use Nightfall at all, if she's going to be this conspicuous.

That wasn't going to happen. Anya had gotten a brief glimpse into a bright future of a Mama and Papa shooting bad guys together and she wasn't going to let that slip through her fingers.

She focused on Baldy's mind, sorting through everything that might have been able to help her. It was a bit hard with the spy lady still buzzing in the background, growing increasingly frantic and concerned, so she caught a lot of extraneous details. He was hungry. He was missing time off his lunch break. His doctor had warned him about running long distances because his heart might attack him. Finally, she caught a thought that she realized would help.

Anya raised a fist triumphantly, looking straight into the shining dome of her opponent.

"Scam!" she roared.

The three adults all paused to look at her. Papa gently lowered her fist. "Don't yell at strangers, Anya."

"Wait," said the spy lady. Her buzzing thoughts shifted. Anya didn't dig any deeper lest she be buried under an avalanche of love again, but overtone now was combative, investigative. "Let me see your car key."

"What?" Baldy said

"If you want me to pay for the damages, you should at least be able to prove it's yours," she said. 'Where's the key?"

"I. well. Sure. Here it is," Baldy said, regaining his composure and producing an old car key from his back pocket.

The spy lady leaned into inspect it. After a moment, she said, "That is the key from a classic car, I suppose. An original Rasch '45 model. You don't see them on the streets much anymore."

"Exactly! It's going to cost a fortune to source new parts," Baldy said smugly.

"Mind, you don't see them on the road for a reason. The Rasch models in the 40s were notoriously unreliable, mostly manufactured from surplus parts of varying quality. It's a miracle your front fender was even still on."

Baldy sputtered. Sweat began to pour off his generous helping of forehead. "Your opinion on my car has nothing to do with this!"

"No, but your car's value does. Most public car lots wouldn't sell a '45 Rasch for more than five hundred dalcs. You could walk into a junkyard and get a new fender for the price of a sandwich. Why are you harassing me for ten thousand?"

Baldy's body attempted to turn in two different directions at the same time, while his mouth made noises that Anya associated with dirty plumbing. Whatever reply he was attempting to construct she would never know, because Papa walked up and clapped the man on the shoulder before he could say anything. "Excuse me," he said.

All eyes were on Papa, some more intensely than others. "This woman is an associate of mine, and we have business to attend to. Please just give us your insurance information, if you'd like to continue this further." He leaned in closely enough that Anya couldn't hear what he said with her ears alone. And if that is an original, unmodified '45 Rasch, I suggest you just drive off before I notify the police.

Papa let go of the man's shoulder with a jerk, and that was the last Anya saw of Baldy or his car. He ran off the way he came, the few curious onlookers assembled across the street dispersed, and the spy lady lady joined her and Papa on the walk to the tailor shop. They just walked together in silence for a while, before Papa spoke up.

"Anya, tell me. How did you know that man was trying to scam this lady?"

Panic ran through Anya's head; she had absolutely failed to prepare an excuse. What if she just said she made it up? No, then they might start poking around her head to see how the Guess-Making part of her brain was so good. That was a part of the brain, wasn't it? The evil doctor mentioned it on one episode of Bondman. Oh! Bondman!

"I saw it in my cartoons," Anya said. "The Baldy looked like a guy who tried to scam Bondman."

Papa nodded. "Well you were right this time, but in the future don't jump to conclusions like that." He turned to the spy lady, and said, "Now you tell me. Did you know that most ''45 Raschs' still on the road are actually just '44s with different bodies?"

"Yes. There was some sort of manufacturing defect, so they filled out most of the year with old stock."

"Indeed,. It was a rather severe manufacturing defect, in fact. The fuel mixture could very easily become imbalanced and cause an explosion. So easily, in fact, that the originals are actually illegal."

The spy lady looked down the street. Anya followed her gaze, half expecting to see Baldy running back the way he came on fire.

"Shall we continue to the tailor's?" I believe I follow what you're implying.

"That's where we wanted to go, after all. Anya's going to need lots of new clothes." A man, strapped for cash, driving a car that could be turned into a bomb in any home garage. It might be coincidence, but it also might not be.

"I'll help you pick something nice." I'll file a report with the agency.

"Perhaps some clothes for summer, too. We're glad to have you along." I'll give you the frequency of the tracer I planted on him. Good work, agent Nightfall.

Papa abruptly halted in the middle of the sidewalk, and put his arm out to stop the spy lady too. He lowered Anya to the ground, and knelt beside her. "Anya, I'm so sorry," he said. "We've been walking and talking all this time, and I still haven't introduced you to your mother."

The final cacophony erupted. Even doing her best to ignore it, Anya still caught phrases like TOGETHER FOREVER and HIS HAIR LOOKS DIFFERENT WHEN HE'S KNEELING DOWN HE'S SO HANDSOME. It died down eventually, and Spy Lady Mama composed herself enough to look down and give her a curt nod. Anya beamed back, and reached up to grab her gloved hand.

"Mama!" she said, unquestioningly.

"Alright then," Papa said, standing back up. "Let's go finish our errands. We'll have a lot to talk about back at home."

They set off, Anya happily clutching New Mama's hand in one hand and Still Papa's in the other. Unbelievable. She had doubled her amount of cool spy parents in a day, and all she had to do was yell at a guy. She should do that more often.

I still can't believe this is real. I have to find a way to thank the child for that. Anya grinned as she met spy lady-Mama's eye, ignoring the steady thrum of WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE in the back of her head. Her smile was only met by the same blank expression. She liked the idea of getting thanks for helping. Maybe she could talk her into playing Bondman later.

The first place to start is her education, of course. New Mama's eye peered into hers like a drill as they walked together hand in hand. The best present one can get is proper training, and it's vital for the mission anyway. Several hours of preliminary study this evening will be a good baseline to evaluate her capabilities. After that we can get serious.

Anya could only stare back.

Oh no.

Oh no, what had she done?