A/N: Hi everyone, the second chapter is finally up! So sorry that it took me this long to post it, there was a lot of ground to cover. Because I posted the first chapter really quickly 2 weeks ago, there was something important that I forgot to do. I need to thank PerennialKillJoy for giving me the idea, inspiration and the input for this story. I wouldn't have been to write this story without him. So thanks a ton KillJoy – you'll get plenty of royalties if this story ever hits the big time : ) Unfortunately for now, my eternal thanks will have to suffice. Okay, back to the story: more flashbacks and angst as we delve deeper into London's past. Enjoy!

After Chanel had attended to my aching body, I fell asleep instantly in my relaxed state. I wish that I could've slept a dreamless sleep. I slept throughout the rest of Monday into Tuesday morning, Numerous images kept flashing through my head while I slept: someone stabbing my arm with a dagger; me hanging off of a cliff holding on for dear life; a little girl walking towards me, carrying a bloodied teddy bear; a woman walking towards me, a bomb strapped to her chest; a building imploding into flames. And then I woke up, my hair around my face, my body bathed in sweat glistening in the light of the rising sun.

I dined early on a sumptuous breakfast in my suite around 7am. I dressed myself more conservatively in a simple grey pants suit with heels and a white blouse underneath. I wasn't in the mood for dressing extravagantly. Besides, I had to look presentable for my debriefing meeting. I got into my private limousine around 7:20am and got my driver to drop me off at my favourite shopping mall. I smiled at the security guard as I strolled through the entrance. All the shops were closed of course, so I sauntered into the ladies bathroom on the first floor. I applied an extra shade of rouge to my lips and stepped outside the bathroom. To the left of the bathroom was a door only accessible to mall employees. I retrieved an access card from my purse and swiped it through the card slot. A light flashed green and I opened the door swiftly.

The door closed behind me with a snap. I was now standing in a large hallway lit by tiny orange bulbs. I walked down this hallway for at least 15 minutes, seeing and hearing nothing all along the way. Finally, I came to stand in front of a solitary elevator. I got into it and pressed the number 5. Within seconds the scene before my eyes changed; a transition from the faint orange lights depicting an underground sewer to blue fluorescent lights. The elevator doors opened and I entered a plush office space with people hustling and bustling around me, carrying paperwork and gadgets that couldn't be found in the shopping mall I'd left behind me 20 minutes ago. I had just entered my second home, the headquarters of a special division of the CIA named the Demolition Espionage Military Operative Network, or DEMON for short. I personally thought that DEMON was an appropriate abbreviation for such an organization: the might and power of a force difficult to fathom or comprehend; yet cursed, without the slightest qualm about turning the dagger onto itself in the name of self-preservation.

I smiled quickly at a few persons whom I recognized on my way to the main conference room. Again I used my card-key and swiped at the slot in the door. I let myself in quietly and found that a horde of personnel and agents were already settled in their seats, talking amongst themselves. But the atmosphere was still relaxed, which meant that neither Eleanor nor Omar Malcolm, the head of DEMON, had not arrived yet. I saw an empty next to Alec at the transparent circular table and lowered myself into it. "Morning L. What, no Vertalli or D&G threads today?" Alec asked me with a small smile. "Not today. I'll save it for the day Omar fires my ass." I teased back with a wry grin. "That won't be today, you're the hero of the week. Still suffering from jet lag?" Alec asked casually. "Like you wouldn't believe," I muttered dryly, which made us both laugh. We both shut up instantly when Eleanor and Omar entered the conference room. Omar was the only one left standing as Eleanor found a seat directly to his left. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen, fellow agents. We have a lot of ground to cover during this meeting. I hope you will bear with me." Omar began cordially. Omar's words at the beginning of every meeting such as this were always polite. But no one present in the room would dare take him lightly: his tone meant business. So unless you wanted to look for another job or take out an early life insurance policy, you wouldn't leave your seat, not even to go to the bathroom.

"For those of you who haven't read this morning's paper, I have taken the liberty of enlarging the front page on the projector screen. Please turn your attention to the headline." Omar commanded gently, switching the screen on with a flick. If I had seen the paper this morning, I certainly would have tossed a bagel at something or someone. The headline read 'Optimum Buys Out Bank of America'. "The pharmaceutical company, sir?" Alec asked curiously beside me. "The very same Agent Stone." Omar replied sardonically. "But why buy out the Bank of America, sir? Its shares and stocks have plummeted since the economic decline," another female agent asked nearest to Eleanor. "Because they, like any other company or individual, knows that purchasing property is a sound investment, regardless of the state of economy." Omar answered reasonably. "Certainly sir, if it's a house or a few shares. But an entire company, especially a bank that's recently crashed? Why do they even want it?" another agent a few seats away from me asked in a skeptical tone. "Optimum may not want it, but they certainly need it. Controlling major shares in a bank in a prosperous economy would be extremely beneficial to any individual or corporation." Eleanor intervened in a serious tone. "And once the economy takes a turn for the better, Optimum Pharmaceuticals will have its own personal piggy-bank for its business venture – legal or otherwise." I added shrewdly, the heads of every agent in the room turning in my direction.

"Agent L has hit the nail on the plank. Optimum is an extremely lucrative corporation. Optimum likes to buy shares and make investments in smaller business ventures. I am of the opinion that Optimum has bought the Bank of America to fund a venture of theirs that is both important and expensive. But as to what that venture is, we're still in the dark." Omar explained in a serious voice. "We do, however, have a suspicion that Optimum may be attempting to re-open their drug-trafficking operations. Since Agent L successfully infiltrated their storage facility in Beijing, this has been the final nail in Alexei Novak's coffin." Eleanor continued, giving me a quick smile. "And since I'm friendly with the District Attorney Mr. Richards, he has informed me off the record that the case against Novak is damning. Therefore, I can surmise this much: Optimum's Board of Directors will be in a hurry to replace Novak with a new head to oversee OPIUM's franchises. And I believe the appointment will occur sometime this week. And preferably in time for their press conference this Friday to announce their plans for the Bank of America." Omar concluded gravely.

After saying this, I noticed a bunch of papers being given to each agent in the room by a secretary. "Fellow agents, these are your individual assignments for the week. We are currently interested in locating one Reuben Marshall, a PR liaison of sorts to Curtis Owen, a trustee in Optimum. But mostly, Marshall is an over glorified drug lord in charge of OPIUM's lower management regime. Our intelligence has informed us that he arrived back in the States on Saturday night, but we have been unable to track his movements since then. We need to locate him and bring him in for questioning. We need a mole on the inside of OPIUM to anticipate what their next move will be." Omar instructed quietly.

Based on their murmurs of approval, everyone around me seemed satisfied with their assignments, save for myself. I fought hard to compose myself as I addressed both Eleanor and Omar. "Excuse me sir, but are you sure this is what you want me to do?" I asked cautiously of Omar. "Incontrovertibly." Omar answered with a small cryptic smile. "But sir, meaning no disrespect of course, but wouldn't I be better placed doing surveillance during the week?" I asked pleadingly, knowing full well I was clutching at straws. "No you wouldn't, because I want you to do your current assignment Agent L." Omar barked, his tone clearly epitomizing the phrase 'don't push me'.

"Agent L," Eleanor intercepted in a chiding tone for both myself and Omar. "Brenda Russell is the only known agent who has ever captured and detained Reuben Marshall long enough to question him intimately about his involvement with OPIUM. Her files on the said interrogations are imperative to our continued investigations regarding Reuben Marshall. Given your previous relationship with Brenda, I think you know full well how important your assignment is, despite your personal misgivings." Eleanor concluded firmly. "I understand perfectly. If my country requires my services in this delicate matter, then I have no choice but to obey." I answered Eleanor in a tone which I hoped implied my compliance and my unhappiness to do so. "Then it's settled. Agent L, you will go to Brenda Russell's previous residence and retrieve the necessary files. You will write up a short summary of your findings of approximately 3 pages and report back to us tomorrow morning at 09:00. We are dismissed." Omar commanded in a ringing voice. All my fellow agents quickly bustled past me as they filed out of the oval room. That left myself and Eleanor alone for a few seconds. She didn't say a word, but her eyes said it all: pride over my recent successful mission; disappointment about my reluctance to do my current assignment and silent understanding about my reluctance. I tore my eyes away from her, not wanting her pity or apology. And then I strutted out of the conference room, leaving her to her own devices.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"1, 2, 3…4. London, how many was that? 10? 12? I bet it was 15 minimum." Zack rambled on nonsensically, his face turning beet red. I stood erect once more after having completed my warm-up stretches. "It was 6 push-ups Zack. I didn't think it was possible for someone to suck this much." I answered a little too flippantly. "Hey, it's not as easy as it looks. I'd like to see you try doing 20 push-ups. In 20 seconds." Zack challenged sourly. That did it. "Okay Zack, I'll do 20 push-ups. I'll even throw in 10 extra push-ups for the same amount of time." I replied airily while getting into position. "Your funeral." Zack remarked while resetting the stop watch. "Go!" he commanded excitedly and I went to work. I don't know if I was born with an extra pair of chromosomes, but exercise was just one of those things that came easily to me like breathing. I was adept at numerous forms of exercise: cardio vascular, Pilates, kick-boxing, swimming, martial arts, yoga. I could even play most sports comfortably if not exceedingly well. But no one was supposed to know that. After all, London Tipton's first love was supposed to be shopping.

It was still Tuesday, around 2pm. I was putting off my latest assignment for as long as possible. Exercise was the only thing that helped me to centre myself and to prevent myself from putting someone's head through a wall. So I was making the most of my time by bonding with Zack and Cody Martins, my neighbours in the Tipton. The twins and their mother Carey, a cabaret singer moved into the Tipton nearly 3 years ago. I, along with Maddie, was constantly getting into all sorts of trouble on account of the twins, particularly Zack's crazy schemes. But they were a barrel of laughs and a whole lot of fun. In my line of work, I had to constantly think and act like an adult, despite being only 18 years old. The twins kept me young at heart and adventurous. They had enriched my life a great deal, though I'd never openly admit that to them. So today, I was helping Zack get in shape and playing chess with Cody at the same time. Yet another pastime which I wasn't supposed to be good at, but explained away as a fluke.

"I can't believe it, you actually did 30 push-ups in under 20 seconds!" Zack stated in wonder. "I told you I would. Maybe you should try some sit-ups instead." I suggested in a kinder voice. I felt a little bad for showing Zack up, but I couldn't help myself sometimes. I'm a Tipton, it's what we do. "Can't, it's too hard." Zack muttered in defeat while collapsing onto his stomach on the carpet. "I told you it's pointless to bet against London when it comes to exercising." Cody quipped knowingly from the coffee table where our chess pawns were placed on. "Shut up, Cody." Zack mumbled, his face buried in the carpet. "Come on, Zack, give me 10 sit-ups. I'll even spot you. The whole reason we're doing this is so you can impress Maddie, which was your idea. It'll be extremely difficult for Maddie to ignore you when you're ripped like Tom Welling." I prompted in a persuasive tone with just a touch of flattering seduction. That did the trick. "I pinned Zack's feet down with my hands while he did 7 straight sit-ups without flinching. The final 3 were slightly sluggish, but nevertheless sit-ups. "Well done Zack! I told you listening to me would make you smarterer. You can take a break now." I chided in a satisfied tone, smiling broadly.

Zack took the towel tossed by me gratefully and mopped his face. "I have to say, you're really good at exercising London. You could be a fitness instructor." Cody marveled in a tone filled with awe. "Thanks Cody, I appreciate the compliment. But people only become fitness instructors for 2 reasons: because they have low self-esteem and because they're poor." I answered blatantly. Cody couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Cody's right, you're an exercising dynamo. If you made a fitness video, you'd sell a ton just based on how you look. With a body like yours, I'm surprised you don't stop traffic." Zack marveled with relish, giving me a subtle once-over. This took me completely by surprise. Zack had never expressed any physical attraction towards anyone besides Maddie, let alone me. It's not like I wasn't used to guys checking me out and drooling over me. And they were all as different as night and day: young stock broker-types (too broke for me); middle-aged business magnates my father's age (I just threw up in my mouth a little bit); greasy biker-types (as if); boys the same age as the Martin twins (double as if) and of course the occasional thug hauled up with me in an interrogation room (keep dreaming).

I'd been on tons of dates in the past, mostly those arranged by my personal assistant with celebrities for a PR campaign. I'd only ever had one serious relationship (that makes for one actual boyfriend) and that was with Lance Fishman, the lifeguard at the Tipton. Maddie had dated him previously, but that had never materialized into anything serious due to the fact that Lance talked of nothing else but his love for water and had thought the film 'Sea Biscuit' was about a sea horse. My self-esteem took a serious dive when he dumped me for another girl or mermaid to be precise. Since then, Lance and I have been on fairly amicable terms. But I very rarely went on dates these days, not even the fake ones. I told myself that my secret life made normal dating and romance exceedingly complicated. But the truth is (though I'd never admit it to the said person or anyone else for that matter), Lance's rejection had cut deep and left a festering scar. I was reluctant to trust anyone who had the power to hurt me. I'm a lone wolf for a reason: in both of my worlds, I never knew who I could really trust.

I snapped back to reality when I saw that Zack and Cody were staring at me in confusion at my strained silence. "Zack, you're so silly sometimes. Like I'd even hedge out Maddie on your Top 10 Hottie List. On second thoughts, I would hedge out Maddie." I answered. "Oh goodness me, it's nearly 3pm. I need to fit in a shopping spree." I announced cheerfully while glancing at my cellphone. It was time to go. "Zack, we'll continue your cardiovascular training tomorrow." I told Zack gently, sweeping past him towards the door. "Hey, what about me? We haven't even finished our game of chess." Cody complained. Taking a step back towards Cody, I deftly snatched up my last remaining knight in the little 'L' shape that I loved so much. "Check mate." I answered simply, giving Cody a brilliant smile before quitting my suite.

The drive downtown took a surprisingly short time. When I stepped out of my car, I was disappointed that I couldn't deliberate any longer. I asked my driver to wait and then I began my walk towards the front door. I approached an exquisite townhouse with sombre black gates enveloping the property. I passed two rows of flowers growing on both sides of the pathway as I strolled along. The flowers, lavender plumbagos as I recall, were beautiful as always, a painful reminder. And then I was at the door, gently grasping the brass door handle. A few seconds passed and then the door opened. A cheerful middle-aged woman stood before me, recognition flickering in her eyes. "Miss London, how lovely to see you again!" she greeted sincerely, her dimpled cheeks flushed with delight. "Thank you Emily, it's lovely to see you too. I wish they were under better conditions. I hope I haven't disrupted your day." I replied in a guilty voice as she invited me into the exquisite house. "Not at all Miss London, I'm just preparing dinner for Miss Samantha. She'll be home around 5pm. You're more than welcome to join us for dinner, I'm sure Miss Samantha would be happy to see you." Emily pressed in a kind voice. "Thank you Emily, but not tonight. I'll be dining at the hotel. I just came for Brandy's things." I answered in a weary tone. "Of course Miss London. I understand how difficult this is for you. Won't you please come this way?" Emily asked me in a polite tone, steering me forward by my arm in a sympathetic manner.

She led me to a comfortably furnished study, Brandy's study. "I brought out as many boxes of Miss Belinda's things as I could find. In fact, I've left everything just the way she would've wanted, the way Miss Belinda would've wanted. Miss Samantha didn't want me to change anything until you'd sifted through everything." Emily continued with forced calm. I appreciate the sentiment from both Emily and Samantha, especially Samantha. I don't think she held any ill-will against me, she had always far more reserved than Brandy. But she was kind in her own way. "That's fine Emily, everything's perfect. Thank you for this." I responded graciously, squeezing her hand gently. "Take as much time as you need. I'll tell the other servants not to disturb you." Emily concluded while handing me a key to the door. She lingered only for a second before departing, leaving me to my own troubled thoughts. Everything was exactly the same. But that was the problem, it was too static. Nothing had visibly changed, except for the ranging emotions in my head. So I tried to focus on my task instead. I carefully locked the study door with the key Emily had given me. At least Emily had remembered that both Brandy and I had enjoyed our privacy while in the study. Ignoring the boxes, I walked to Brandy's desk and pressed a button underneath. Two portions of the bookcase on the wall slid apart, revealing a secret entrance. I walked inside calmly and pressed a button on the interior wall, closing the bookcase behind me. I stood alone in a room filled with filing cabinets. I located the file I wanted fairly quickly, but still I lingered in the secret room. I sank down to the floor, the file abandoned next to me, the past enveloping me with cryptic clarity…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A year ago…

"Willy-kins, I had to ground our London. It would really mean a lot to me if you supported me on this." I remember standing in my suite that day, my entire body shaking with repressed rage. I lost count of how many there'd actually been before her, but Brenda (Brandy) Russell was the newest addition to my family, my newest step-mother. If you could even call what I had a family to begin with. My mother was permanently shacking up in Barbados with a bartender half her age named Cristo. I barely saw my own father, except for when he was on business in Boston. Where did this jumped-up cheerleader get off playing house with me? She was only a few years older than me, that made her practically past puberty. It had been a week since Brandy had rocked up at the Tipton, throwing her marriage to my father in my face and trying her hand at bonding with her new step-daughter. But this time she had really crossed a line by getting my own father to ground me for buying an immodestly-sized skirt and tank-top.

But I crossed the line and really hurt Brandy's feelings when I questioned my father's love for her, hinting at an early divorce before the warranties on the various wedding presents had expired. It was Moseby who actually put me right and got me to see the light. So Brandy was ultra annoying, but she did care about me in her strange amateurish way. That was several rungs higher than the treatment I'd received from my former step-mothers. To them, I'd been invisible or a tiresome nuisance when they cared to notice. In that moment, I knew that Brandy was different. And if I gave her a chance, I somehow knew that she would surprise me in a good way. So I swallowed my pride, said I was sorry and patched things up with my new step-mother.

Boy, was I glad I did that. Because once I got to know Brandy, I found out that she was really cool, fun and smart. I let her in on my little secret early on about playing dumb. Brandy was really understanding and sympathised a great deal. So she made a compromise. When we were in public together or around Daddy, she would humour my quirks and obtuse monologues. But when we were alone together, we would play chess, do cross-word puzzles and even have scintillating conversations about culture, art and politics if there was time. But I could talk to Brandy about tons of other stuff too: shopping, school and, boys. When Lance had broken up with me, I called Brandy who was on a business trip in London at the time. Brandy flew back to Boston the next day. She had said the conference had been really boring and that no one had actually needed her there. But I knew better, she flew back to Boston because she knew I had needed her. That meant the world to me. My relationship with Brandy was becoming more complex and ambiguous: she was now a confidante, a best friend, an older sister, a maternal figure. A mom, a real mother. I didn't think it was possible for me to love someone as much as I loved her. And I knew that Brandy felt the same way about me. I could see that she loved my father too. I began to see more of my father in Boston when Brandy was there too. And it surprised me when I saw my father's face on occasions when he looked at her, realising that he loved her too. When the three of us were together, everything seemed more normal, more tranquil, more tangible. We were a family.

But not every family is perfect. Brandy, too worked as much as my father. Her job as a personal buyer for Armani took her all over the globe for weeks at a time. I missed her intensely during these times, finding myself slipping into bouts of sulky depression. But Brandy always made time for me whenever she could; she once took me on a shopping spree to Singapore for the weekend. Brandy had also purchased a townhouse in an upmarket suburb in Boston. So whenever she was home, I would pack several suitcases and leave the Tipton for days at a time to spend time with her. Lately I'd been impatient to see her, more so than usual. I needed to talk to her. I was worried about her. The times I'd seen her in the past few months, she hadn't been herself. Always stressed out and weary. Brandy herself admitted to me that she hadn't been getting a lot of sleep lately. And then there were the strange cuts and bruises on her body. At first I suspected that my father had something to do with it, but Brandy denied it vehemently. And I believed her. After all, I knew my father. He was an egotistical and inconsiderate asshole, but he wasn't abusive. But then, what was wrong with Brandy? Was she in some kind of trouble? I toyed with the idea that she might be having an affair, but even that sounded implausible. Despite their separate lives, Brandy was devoted to my father, more than any of his former wives.

The day I found out more than I bargained for, I was heading to her townhouse. We had made plans to make more popcorn than our stomachs could handle and have a movie marathon. I was early, hoping we could talk before we started watching the movies. I thought it was strange that Emily wasn't in her usual place in the kitchen. But I didn't trouble myself further with it as I made my way to Brandy's study. She spent more time in there than in any other actual room in the house; she always had mounds of paperwork to do. Sure enough, the door to the study was open, but no Brandy. That's when I saw the bookcase standing apart in two, revealing an opening in the wall. Then I heard the murmur of breathing: deliberate and ragged, as if the air was trapped in pockets of the lungs. I'd never been more afraid in my entire life until that moment in time. It set the course for the year ahead of me, for my entire existence.

I took a few paces forward and found Brandy sitting on the floor in what looked like a small room, filing cabinets resting against all four walls. Brandy was a mess: her hair resting in untidy strands around her face, saturated in sweat from the glistening beads on her forehead and cheeks. Her face had streaks of dirt around it, including her clothes, a black pants suit. I stared down in horror at her knee, her pants rolled up neatly toward her thigh. Her left knee cap had a large laceration in it, the blood saturating her pants and spilling onto the grey floor. But the most horrific of it all was the fact that I had interrupted her attempts to stitch up the wound herself, a portion of black thread crudely woven into her skin. I knelt down by her side, my entire body shaking violently. "London, what are you doing?" Brandy asked weakly, the colour draining from her face. "I could ask you the same thing. What the hell happened to you Brandy?" I asked in a shaky voice. "It was an accident, I was careless." Brandy answered grimly, chuckling wryly while closing her eyes and clutching her injured knee. "Shit Brandy, you don't look good. We need to get you to the hospital." I remarked in a scared voice, part of my shock evaporating as common-sense reappeared once more. "No London, no hospitals. I have to stitch up my leg. Fuck, I really should have paid more attention in Health class in high school instead of skipping to make out with Kyle Matthews in the back of his car." Brandy joked through gritted teeth, clearly in a lot of pain. "Brandy, you need professional help." I answered tersely, rising to my feet. "London, no! I can't go to the hospital." Brandy pleaded painstakingly, the fear apparent in her eyes. "Brandy, do you trust me?" I asked her seriously, looking her in the eye. "You know I do, but-" "But nothing Brandy, we need to fix up your leg. I'll call Dr. Hamilton, my private physician. He's extremely discreet." I replied calmly, while grabbing my cellphone. Dr. Hamilton was on my speed dial, even for when I broke a nail.

Dr. Hamilton arrived in all but 10 minutes. Like clock work, he went to work, first setting Brandy's leg (because it was broken) and then stitching it up expertly. I stayed with Brandy the entire time, squeezing her hand reassuringly. And then he was finished, calmly prescribing Brandy some pain killers and antibiotics after placing her broken leg in a cast. All the while his eyes were enflamed with intense curiosity and worry. But still he said nothing. Perhaps he hoped I would explain on my next visit. But I knew now that explaining anything from now on would be next to impossible. After instructing Emily to clean up the horrendous mess in the secret room, I gently led Brandy upstairs so she could rest. "I'll lie down London, but I'm not tired." Brandy remarked stubbornly, while I helped her get comfortable. "Fine, don't sleep then. We can talk instead." I replied seriously. Brandy winced, I'm guessing it wasn't from the pain but because she knew what I was going to ask her. "London, my life is extremely complicated right now. I'm not sure you'll understand." Brandy began cautiously. "Brandy, I have an I.Q. of 145; take your best shot." I commanded in a cocky tone. "Your life would be in danger if I told you," Brandy continued urgently, the fear apparent in her eyes. "I like danger," "Hmph, you say that now, but if you knew-" "Then just tell me what's going on Brandy. I know you want to. I'm worried about you. I love you, there's nothing you can say to me that will change that." I told her firmly, squeezing her hand.

After that, there was no more hesitation. Brandy took a deep breath, looked me in the eye and told me everything. Her position as a personal buyer was a cover for her long absences. She actually worked for a secret organisation named DEMON, a division of the CIA. "CIA…you mean, you're a spy?" "I believe the correct term is espionage intelligence or a secret agent." I was more surprised than anyone that my reaction was excitement and not horror.

"Brandy, this is so beyond cool! Oh my God, you're an actual secret agent! What's your code name? Does it end in 007?"

"It's just Brandy London, Agent Brandy."

"What about headquarters?"

"In a secret location downtown."

"Oh my gosh, this is so wild Brandy! Do you have your own gun?"

"I have several, all stashed behind the bookcase in the study."

"Medical insurance and dental?"

"That and two life insurance policies."

"Do you have a bullet-proof car?"

"My SLK Kompressor."

"Get out, I just thought you liked the tinted windows."

"Does Daddy know?" I asked in a hushed voice, everything suddenly feeling ten times more serious. "No he doesn't know. I've thought about telling him so many times, but I chickened out every time. It's better this way, Wilfred not knowing. The less he knows, the more I can keep him safe. I've made a lot of enemies in my line of work London. If they ever knew about my relationship with your father, his safety would be jeopardised. And I couldn't let that happen. I love your father enough to lie." "Don't worry Brandy, your secret's safe with me. I won't tell Daddy."

Not telling my father was just another one of those secrets that Brandy and I kept. Brandy began to confide in me even more, particularly about her missions. Now I waited with even more anticipation for Brandy's return to Boston. This time my longing was tainted with worry and anxiety, her safety foremost in my mind. "London relax, I don't think it's possible to shop to death." Cody reminded me calmly. I gave him a shaky laugh, knowing full well that he'd come uncomfortably close to the truth. Every time she entered the Tipton after a mission, I'd be sitting on my favourite recliner in the lobby. It didn't matter how tired she was or looked; she'd always drop her bags in expectation, looking every bit as eager to see me too as she hugged me tightly. And then we'd retire to my suite so she could rest and then she would relay stories about her latest adventures to me. These were my favourite parts, hearing about the criminals she'd arrested and secret syndicates that she'd unearthed. "I want to be a secret agent too Brandy." I stated one night, finally voicing my deepest wish. "No you don't London. I chose this life for myself, but I wouldn't wish it on anyone else." Brandy replied sternly, her eyes becoming alert once more. "I'm not naïve Brandy. I know about the risks and dangers. And I could be good at it." "I know yo could, but you're still too young to know what the future holds." "Will you at least promise me that we'll revisit this topic at a later stage?" "I promise you this: when the time is right, you will know what to do." Brandy concluded before planting a tiny kiss on my forehead.

And then she left yet again, for close to a month this time. My world was slowly sinking into a hazy stupor while she updated me on her latest mission over email. She had taken it upon herself and successfully caught and detained one Reuben Marshall, a drug lord for a drug trafficking syndicate named OPIUM. I could tell she was sleep-deprived, but she sounded enthusiastic, so I tried to be happy for her. But then her emails became more morose and fewer. The interrogations with Marshall had been successful, but other complications had arisen. Brandy had refused to tell me in exact details what that meant, but assured me nonetheless that it would be resolved. All too soon for my liking, and too final a conclusion. But something else occurred a week before it happened that became the catalyst for fracturing my world even more.

Brandy returned from her most recent mission, but she didn't come to the Tipton. She went straight to her townhouse and avoided my calls, emails, text messages and written letters for 4 days. Having finally lost all sense of propriety, I drove to her townhouse, wanting to get to the bottom of yet another mystery. Emily admitted me willingly, but refused to meet my gaze. I went straight to the study and found Brandy yet again in the secret room. This time she wasn't bleeding as far as I could tell, yet the tears ran steadily down her face, days of crying profusely distorting her lovely face. "Brandy, what is it? What's happened?" I asked her steadily, fearing her answer before she even gave it. "Wilfred admitted to me that he's been having an affair." Brandy said without emotion, her face streaked with white lines from the tears. For the moment, I only had strength to ask one question. "Who?" "With his secretary, Cindy." I remembered Cindy: 24 years of age, Stamford graduate, eager demeanour, wore far too little to work. I hated her already.

"How long?" "He only slept with her twice, so I don't know if it counts as an affair." Brandy remarked grimly. "You're kidding right? My father fucked his secretary twice and you're okay with that?" I spat furiously, rising to my feet. "I never said I was okay with it London, I'm devastated." Brandy swallowed softly, a fresh batch of tears escaping her face. My anger dissipated at the sight and I knelt beside her again. "Of course you're not okay with it, I'm sorry Brandy. I know this is hard for you, but we'll get through this. We'll hire the best divorce attorney –" "Divorce? London, I'm not divorcing your father." Brandy interrupted seriously. "Brandy, what are you talking about? Look, don't underestimate Daddy. If you don't act first, he'll try to enforce your pre-nup agreement and a smaller settlement." "London, you don't understand. Your father doesn't want to divorce me. He's not leaving me. He told me about Cindy because it's over with her. He wants to start afresh in our marriage." "And you believed him? Oh my God…" "London, please understand. Your father does love me. He just made a mistake."

"Bullshit! Do you know how many times I've heard him say that to his other ex-wives? To my own mother? I've even heard him rehearse that line in the bathroom mirror." I retorted coldly, tears escaping my eyes. "I thought you were smarter than this Brandy." "London, I know this difficult for you to hear. But I love your father and I want this marriage to work. I'm prepared to put this behind me and forgive him." Brandy answered intently. "Yeah, until the next time he decides to fuck one of his subordinates." I retorted maliciously. "London, I know you're upset. But he is still your father." "Fuck that Brandy! Father? What father?! He's a lying cheating bastard! And you're an idiot for thinking this will turn out differently from what history dictates. I'm outta here." I concluded viciously. "London, please don't go-"But I ignored her, slamming the door behind me and sprinted to the car waiting outside for me. The car took off and I didn't look back once. Even if I had, my blinding tears wouldn't have allowed me one last look at the mother I loved.

Without Brandy's company, the week was easily the most miserable of my life, save for what was to come. But I was too angry and heartbroken, the emotions tearing me from limb to limb. I ignored Brandy's attempts at conversation this time, barred my suite to all but Maddie. I was a mess. I found myself on that fateful day sitting with my fair-weather BFF's, Chelsea and Portia at a fashion show, sullen and bored to tears if I had any left. And that's when my phone vibrated violently in my pocket. I opened the flap of my cellphone and checked my text messages. I had a message from my friend Marilyn. She was an intern at the Boston Herald. She always gave me the scoop on any big news happening in the city. It read: 'Chaos at the Chrysler Building. Hostages taken, OPIUM claiming responsibility.' I read the text thrice and my brain started churning. This was the complication Brandy had been referring to. DEMON's intelligence had discovered that OPIUM wanted to get their hands on the shares of the Bank of America. The CEO of the Bank of America, Theodore Bosworth, had refused to sign the shares over to Alexei Novak. Bosworth was due at the Chrysler Building this morning for a press conference regarding their new venture with GM Motors. OPIUM had taken the building and its occupants hostage to put pressure on Bosworth to reconsider. They were trying to force his hand.

I stood up in the middle of the fashion show. Every annoyed face in the auditorium turned to face me. "Like, what are you doing?" Chelsea asked in a nasal whisper. "Something's come up, I have to go." I answered tersely, grabbing my purse. "You can't go London! They're serving crab cakes after!" Portia whined in the darkness. "Save me one!" I hissed, fleeing the auditorium. "Chrysler Building, step on it!" I barked at my driver as he began driving. I had no idea what I was going to do or say, but I knew I had to see Brandy. I had a very bad feeling about all of this.

I got to my destination in 10 minutes flat. To my astonishment, a flood of people were rushing out of the Chrysler Building in the multitudes. Naturally, the press were there, reporters, cameramen and photographers on hand. I recognised a few DEMON agents and sprinted towards them. "Miss, you need to stay back," a security guard commanded, pushing me back. "It's okay, I know her," a woman chided gently. It was Eleanor Truscott, Brandy's superior. "Eleanor, thank God! What's happening? Where's Brandy?" I demanded hurriedly. "She's inside the building. London, you shouldn't have come here." Eleanor stated grimly. "I need to see Brandy, Eleanor!" I exclaimed impatiently, the fear taking over me. "Are those the hostages?" I asked in a different voice, watching the throngs. "Yes they are. Brandy negotiated for their release. OPIUM's letting them go." Eleanor replied. There was no trace of triumph or relief in her voice, only regret. What was going on?

As if to answer my question, Brandy was suddenly outside again, slowly walking towards us, wearing a bullet-proof vest over her clothing. Her face was expressionless. "London, what are you doing here?" She asked me tersely, glancing at Eleanor out of the corner of her eye. "I needed to see you, to warn you…" "It's okay London, everything's fine. The hostages are safe." Brandy replied soothingly. But she didn't look happy, only determined. "How much time do we have?" Eleanor asked of Brandy in a sombre voice. "Just under 10 minutes. I'm going down to the basement. It's the only way to contain it, so that only the immediate building is claimed." Brandy responded calmly. Contain it! Claim it? What the hell is going on? "Brandy, what –" My question died on my lips when I looked down at her vest. It wasn't bullet-proof, it had a bomb strapped to it, C4 by the looks of it. And then I understood.

"Brandy, no!" I roared frantically, trying to grab at her. "Don't do this! Just put the bomb back, the hostages are safe!" I pleaded vehemently. "No they're not London! None of us are safe! The area needs to be evacuated, there's not enough time to dispose of the bomb!" Brandy snapped angrily. "Okay, but you don't have to go back into the building. You don't have to…" I trailed off painstakingly. "London, one of those OPIUM thugs strapped this to a little girl. I won't let anyone else die here!" "Except yourself!" I retorted furiously. I hated her intensely in this moment. Why was she doing this to me? "How many square meters will the bomb cover?" Eleanor asked calmly. "I'm hoping about 1,500 square feet give or take." Brandy replied mechanically. "That's about the area of the Chrysler Building." Eleanor stated cryptically.

"Brandy, wait, I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry that I yelled at you last week and called you an idiot. Please don't do this! My car's right here, let's just get in and drive back to the Tipton. Please Brandy," I pleaded helplessly, my tears blinding my vision. I felt Brandy's fingers wipe away the tears from my cheeks. "London, I forgave you for that right after you said it. That's not why I'm doing this," Brandy answered with a sigh. "I could never stay angry at you. You're like a daughter to me, that will never change." "But I need you Brandy," "London, you need to go. Don't remember me this way. Remember that I love your father. Never forget that I love you, forever." Brandy whispered into my ear, pulling me in for a tight embrace. "Brandy," I murmured, unable to say anymore, my breath coming out in gasps. "I have to go. Remember what I said: when the time comes, you'll know what to do. I love you, London." Brandy murmured in a steady voice. "I love you too, Brandy. Out of all of them, you're my favourite. I love you the most." I choked out. She smiled at me one last time before sprinting into the building.

Then the DEMON agents pulled me back. They piled me into one of their SUV's and drove me a few feet away. The car jerked to a halt and then I heard a deafening crash. I didn't care that I was deaf or blind, I got out of the car and started running back. I needed to know for sure. The horror of the sight before me took my breath away. The magnificent architecture of the Chrysler Building was charred beyond recognition. Its remnants were being licked away by orange flames and billows of white smoke. It all seemed very apocalyptic , but it was only one building. One person whose fate was decided. I sank to my knees, my entire body aflame with unspeakable pain. Brandy, my reason for living had vanished into the wisps of smoke, out of my world.

And then I felt my heart stop too as I collapsed into rubble and ash, more willing than ever to end my life…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I remember spending a record of 45 minutes at the hospital that day, having collapsed at the former Chrysler Building. The doctors checked my vitals, but couldn't find anything wrong with me physically. But my eyes were dormant and that worried them. I felt like screaming out, that's because there's no sign of life in there you morons. Do you hear me? I said I'm dead already, don't bother with you ridiculous tests. Put that in your shiny medical degree and smoke it for all I care, dumbass. But I couldn't move or breathe. Brandy's calculation had been slightly off. The top floor of the AT&T Building had also caught fire. Luckily, the occupants of the neighbouring buildings had also been evacuated before the bomb had gone off. But essentially, only the Chrysler Building had contained the bomb blast. OPIUM had planed it all too carefully, knowing the DEMON agents wouldn't be able to diffuse or dispose of the bomb in time even if all the hostages were evacuated. One or several hundred would be sacrificed all the same. But I didn't give a damn about the hostages. Would any one of them have dared to sacrifice their own life for the sake of the others? They would've died at least knowing their lives had been intact. I was alive and felt more maimed than before.

And then there was the funeral to consider. Even though there weren't any remains to bury, my father still insisted on purchasing an extravagantly large coffin made out of solid gold. I hadn't told him that I'd been there when Brandy had died; he still thought I'd been at the fashion show when it happened. I made Chelsea and Portia swear upon loss of life never to tell anyone that I'd left in the middle of the show. I didn't have the energy or the patience to point out the futility of it all. My father's efforts were in vain, trying to depict himself as the sorrowful widow and loving husband. I know the truth and I despised him. But I couldn't say or do anything; I too had to sit quietly and put up with his pretence, ignoring my urges to make it a double burial. Zack, Cody, Mr. Moseby and Maddie also attended the funeral. I was extremely grateful to them; it made it more bearable to stand next to my father at the burial without pitching him head first into the empty grave. All I remember about the procession was the endless flash of cameras blinking in my face. And then it was black as I buried my face into Moseby's chest while clutching Maddie's hand furiously. Moseby cupped my head with his hand and Maddie squeezed my hand gently, both of them allowing me to cry freely.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The reading of the will took place a day after the funeral. It was fairly straightforward. Brandy had left my father and myself a considerable amount of money as well as some of her personal effects. A sizable portion of money had been left to a charity she supported. Brandy had left her townhouse to her eldest sister Samantha, her remaining living relative. And lastly, Brandy had left some valuables to her trusted housekeeper Emily as well as an annuity throughout her lifetime. At the end of the reading, Brandy's lawyer called me to his side and told me that Brandy had instructed him to inform me that she had left me a personal letter in her desk in her old study that she wished me to read in private. My father raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing otherwise. I was secretly grateful for this. This meant yet another trip to the townhouse which I had tried to avoid. But my curiosity was certainly aroused by what else Brandy had left to say to me.

I made the trip in record time and located the letter in Brandy's desk. The letter was roughly 15 pages, containing personal words from Brandy which make me cry later as I recall. But the final paragraph caught me completely off guard:

'Having composed this final portion of my letter only 2 weeks prior, I presumed that DEMON's attempts to thwart OPIUM's terrorist attacks on the city of Boston had gone awry. Therefore, I say this next part with the utmost sincerity and seriousness. You expressed a wish to become a secret agent to me previously. If you still wish to pursue this, I have asked Eleanor if she would speak to Omar Malcolm, the head of DEMON, on your behalf and also undertake to be your mentor during your training. You will find a cheque enclosed in this envelope. You must place this money in a separate bank account without your father or anyone else's knowledge. I have set aside this money for any necessaries you require during the course of your new vocation. The decision is now placed before you; now choose your fate carefully as I chose mine. I will love you always, London, my favourite daughter. Till we meet again someday.

From your loving mother,

Brandy.'

I looked at the cheque in the envelope and I gasped. It was the value of 10 million dollars. I wasted no time in contacting Eleanor. She affirmed everything that Brandy had written in her letter. Omar had already been consulted; everything was already in place to begin my training. Now I only had to decide my fate. It was frustratingly easy. The hole in my heart would never be replaced, but I had something I could do, something I could be good at. A real purpose far beyond the reaches of a rich heiress. I could fight back against the evil that had claimed Brandy's life, against all the injustices within my grasp. Brandy would want me to do this now, more than ever with OPIUM's syndicate increasing across the East Coast. No matter how long it took, OPIUM would pay. OPIUM would die too…

xxxxxxxxxxxx

I had no idea how I had gotten back to the Tipton. I was acutely aware that my eyes were blurry which meant that I had been crying. Luckily, I had remembered to bring Reuben Marshall's file with me back to my suite. I opened the door to my suite and jumped a few feet in the air at the sight of Maddie waiting for me in the dining room. "Maddie, what are you doing here? How did you get in?" I demanded hysterically, still recovering from my fright. "Mr. Moseby let me in. I wanted to apologise about yesterday for being so mean to you. I was just irritable about school and working a double shift. London, what's wrong?" Maddie asked anxiously, noticing my face for the first time. I hesitated, what should I tell her? The file was mercifully stashed in my shoulder bag. Maddie had been wonderful after Brandy's, always listening attentively and letting me cry unabashedly. So I tried the truth, a portion of it. "I was at Brandy's townhouse earlier. Emily called me, she found some things that had belonged to Brandy she thought I'd want. It was just hard going through her stuff." I admitted truthfully. Maddie looked on the verge of tears when she approached me and hugged me tightly. "Oh London, I'm so sorry," she murmured softly and meaning it. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" she asked me probingly, searching my eyes. "Maddie, don't you have any homework to do?" "I did it during my break earlier." "What about your parents? Won't they be mad if you don't come home?" I asked worriedly. "I'll call my mom and let her know that I'm staying here at the Tipton. Besides, my parents will be too busy fighting to miss me." Maddie joked feebly. "Maddie, you've just worked two shifts today. Aren't you tired?" I asked her curiously. "Don't worry about me London, I'm okay. I'm more concerned about you right now. I'll always be here whenever you need me. I'm your friend." Maddie replied soberly while giving me a small smile. It had been a long day, but I didn't want to be alone right now. And Maddie was here right now, Maddie was still here. "Yes please," I choked, squeezing her hand gently. I needed this moment, these few hours to be London. Because life would begin again tomorrow and Agent L would have to face the evils of the outside world, once again wearing her poker face.

A/N: Shoo, that's that! Thank you for bearing with me. I don't know when I'll finish the third chapter or what I'm even going to say. But please read and review, let me know what you think. I really like the last sentence if I do say so myself. I was listening to Lady Ga-Ga at the time, LOL. A special thanks to PerennialKillJoy for proofreading this chapter. Enjoy!