While Bercehsgarden was one of the last remaining national parks not shut down by the Ostanian Government in the wake of recent reforms, it also had itself a severe transient problem. Thanks to the stricter laws of alcohol production and consumption, a great number of people had moved to these "safe zones" in order to be able to drink to their heart's desire.
There was a small but thriving community of outcasts, ones who lived off the land in scattered communes across the vast area that made up the national parks. Despite their circumstances, most of the people there were friendly and welcoming: and the park rangers often turned a blind eye to their activities in exchange for the occasional shot of alcohol.
In the darkness of the night, a group of young men drank. They carried themselves with the air of distinguished gentlemen, despite wearing ragged suits and discarded overcoats. There was a rustic charm to their fire-side gathering, just a group of friends sitting on stools and rocks looking up at the stars.
One broke away from the group, babbling to himself while swinging a half-empty flask.
"Oi!" Another shouts in Ostanian. "The hell you doing?"
"Going home?"
Laughter.
"Taking a fat piss!"
The man giggles to himself as he wanders into the woods, going a bit off the beaten path. He fumbles with the zipper on his pants, dropping the flask as he does. The smell of alcohol overpowers his bodily odor as he lets loose.
"Yeah… That's right…."
The man freezes. Did he hear a crack?
He looks around in a drunken stupor, noticing nothing but the darkness of the forest. The distant campsite is barely visible, only a speck of orange in the horizon. The man gulps. Forests were not supposed to be this quiet- were they? Bushes begin to shift and part, a shadow encircling him like a shark did its prey.
Something behind him takes a single booming step.
Petrified, the drunk remembers vaguely the warnings the rangers often gave them about animal attacks. He stays deathly still, breath locked in his throat. Sweat dribbles down his beard as a beast huffs behind his back. Though he cannot see it, the man pictures rows upon rows of serrated teeth.
"AAAAHHHHHHHH!"
The man throws up his arms and runs forward as fast as he can, cutting through dozens of branches. The entire forest bends as something large moves behind, following his every step. Shielding himself with his arms, the drunk manages to somehow stumble his way back to the camp- in one piece.
"Damn comrade!" One of his friends jeers. "Relax, we're not going to finish our stock so soon-"
"There's a monster!"
Silence. The gathered homeless all look to one another, and then to the drunk, before breaking out into raucous laughter.
"Monster?!"
"Don't be ridiculous friend." One claps his shoulder, dragging the drunk back into the safety of their campfire circle.
"There are bears here though." Another man interjects, throwing aside a can of beer. "But I doubt any would want to eat something as scrawny and ugly as you."
"Bah! I know what I felt! That was no bear!"
"What? You think 'Tammy Tarrasque' is going to eat you alive?"
Another bout of laughter. The drunk fidgets with his hands, eyeing the treeline as if expecting it to prove him right. It never does.
"What was it then? A fairy? A dragon?"
"Don't tell me you believe in any of that bullshit?"
As the merriment continues, the drunk eases himself back into the party. He soon forgets all about his encounter with the creature, consumed by the jolly times and the soothing embrace of a familiar friend.
In the meantime, a pair of glowing red eyes blinks- before disappearing into the foliage.
Berlint, Osatlia / Time since Operation Strix: 3 months 10 days
"Morning."
"Good morning."
As usual, a blonde man in a trench coat is the first at the newspaper stand- he is there before the clerk arrives, and always gone before the second customer. The air is too quiet, frigid with the first nibbling chills of winter. The man himself is as rigid as the statues that dot the nearby plaza, serene yet stone-faced as he impatiently drums his fingers on the countertop. While Ostanian nights were often long and rowdy, they were not a city of morning people- it was a common joke within Berlint that only students, government officials and criminals would be out at 5 a.m in the morning.
Twilight was neither.
"We're not open yet."
His hand knocks onto the metal shutter - once, then twice. A person shuffles behind the safety of corrugated shutters.
"And what will you have good sir?" The voice is indistinct by design. "Which brand of newspaper will you take today?"
"The night is darkest before dawn."
"And what does the frog say to the scorpion?"
"Look upon my work, and weep."
"Well, that's that. Passed with flying colors as usual."
The shutters are pulled up to reveal a scruffy looking man with squarish glasses- someone who had become a fixture of the neighborhood. While he was no field agent like Twilight, the man who went by Franky was every bit as experienced in the world of espionage as the superspy himself.
"Any word from abroad?"
The informant winces. His voice is lowered to a whisper, muffled by the howling wind and the deliberate loud and obnoxious tapping of Twilight's leather shoes on the pavement.
"There's been a complication in Operation Strix."
"Complication?"
Franky slides over a newspaper; with the front page article being the reintroduction of butterflies into a reforested region in Eastern Ostalia. Twilight narrows his eyes; knowing full well that the area in question had long been paved over to make way for another industrial complex. The butterflies were orange and black - but there was a pattern in their spots. One written in W.I.S.E Morse Code.
Flash. Milkshake. Police.
His brain puts two and two together, years of spy-work having given him easy recall for all of their codeworks. Mysterious earthquakes in a remote forested area and sightings of armed convoys presumably tied to the Ostanian government.
His previous mission.
Even after months, he could not forget what he had seen- two hollow triangles touching at their peaks. It was no coincidence that the secret police had suddenly become even more ruthless in their hunt for "traitors", they had to have gotten a boost of support from this mysterious foreign organization. Had it not been for the circumstances around the recent tightening of domestic security in Ostania and his crucial role in Operation Strix, Twilight would have continued to hunt this third party: as elusive as they were, no one would be able to evade detection by W.I.S.E's many eyes and ears for this long.
So why was it that then they knew nearly nothing about MONARCH?
And why were they working with the Ostanians?
"When am I leaving?"
His friend taps again, and Twilight follows his fingers to a date roughly one week from today.
Well.
This certainly complicates things.
Anya Forger lived a simple life.
She woke up, brushed her teeth and rode the bus to school after a kiss and goodbyes from Mama and sometimes Papa if he had not left for work. Usually her days would go by in the same way: dodging Tonitrus bolts from her mean teachers, struggling to stay awake in class, 'befriending' Psy-On boy and gossiping with Becky. Not in that order.
As Papa always said, a man never leaves the house without a plan.
Her bright smile never left her face as she strutted along the hallways of their apartment, and with a spring in her step the psychic opened the door to their home.
"Mama! Papa! I'm home!"
Leaping into the room, Anya falters upon seeing her father's stern expression. Mr Forger had earned a reputation for being a bit "hard to approach" - though Anya didn't see the problem. She could approach him just fine. Also it's not like Papa would punch anyone who came near him. That was something that she suspected Mama would do.
With a weary sigh, he folds up his Ostanian newspaper - but Anya's powers let her sense his secret smile. Their dog snores on his new dog bed, Bond content on spending every moment on that cushion.
"Welcome back Anya."
"We need to talk."
Anya gulps; trying to ignore the background noise that was her father's messy stream of thoughts.
"Short trip. Should be easy to explain. "
"Anya won't suspect anything, but Yor…"
"This will be hard to run alongside Strix. Need to plan appropriately."
She had gotten better at picking out the important bits; but with Papa that was like standing in a river and trying to catch fish with her hands. Anya saw a documentary on bears once, on TV, and she loved the way that they moved so fast despite being so big and fat. Maybe Bond could move as fast as they did if he was hungry.
"Anya? Are you listening?"
The girl shakes her head to refocus on words and not thoughts. He briefly looks frustrated when she looks at him blankly- but with Loid Forger it is impossible to see his real emotions. Unless you are a psychic that is.
"I'll repeat myself one more time." The man says in a tone that indicates he is long accustomed to Anya's antics. "And I hope this will be the only time I have to do so."
"Yes Papa."
"Seeing as you have been - very good - recently and as Christmas is approaching, your mother and I have decided that we are going to be leaving the apartment for a few weeks."
"We'll be staying in Eastern Ostalia for a short while."
Immediately, Anya imagines a fairy-tale castle: towers of stone stretching into the heavens. Already the child dreams of wearing a pretty pink dress that was longer than she was tall, waited on hand and foot by servants. Dozens of knights would serve under her rule, providing her with infinite peanuts! Anya would be the queen of her own castle, and also a super spy with hundreds of gadgets that could maintain world peace with a snap and-
Her hopes are dashed when she reads her father's mind: seeing a ramshackle wooden structure instead of her ancient stronghold. The man notices her sudden change in expression.
"Don't worry, our accommodation is owned by one of my friends from the hospital."
In reality, it was one watched constantly by fellow spies from "Wise". Based on what Anya could read from his whirlpool of a mind, Uncle Scruffy would be there; along with a few other scattered names.
"It won't be a long stay. A week at most." He continues. "Consider this your reward for a successful first semester at the Academy."
Both of them knew that calling Anya's academic performance 'successful' was a bit of an exaggeration. A "hyper bowling" if her memory of the literature classes served her right. But in her defense, the orphan did not exactly have the time to prepare before enrolling in the most prestigious school in the region.
"I trust that you won't be too naughty there?"
"No Papa."
Anya nods, briefly a perfect picture of a young lady. She even adds a little bow, something that she has used time and time again to break through the iceberg around her father's heart.
It works like a charm.
"Good. Feel free to help yourself to the peanuts on the table."
With his talk finished, the spy returns to reading the news- possibly looking for spy messages like in the Bondman movie Anya watched the other day. As Anya wanders over to the kitchen, failing to hide her jittering excitement at the trip and her favorite snacks, she can make out the hints of a proud smile on her father's face.
"Where's Mama?" The girl asks as she hops onto a chair, reaching with some effort for a half-opened bag of peanuts.
"Your mother is out at the moment: but she'll be back soon."
Elsewhere…
Yuri took the news of her trip about as well as she could have hoped.
As her little brother ranted about his many, many concerns about her safety and how Loid was actually taking her out to his cabin to murder her to sell her body parts on the black market- the woman slumped further into her coat in an attempt to make time go faster. Despite her being the older of the two, Yuri was leagues more overprotective.
"We'll be fine." The assassin says, cutting through his increasingly verbose diatribe with a knife's edge to her words. "It's not going to be for that long."
"The cabin isn't too far away from the city, Berchesgaden is only a 2 hour drive."
She can now see a vein bulging in her little brother's forehead, bursting with blood just beneath the skin. The younger man's nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. The momentary distraction is all the assassin needs to press her advantage.
"Be reasonable Yuri, I am an adult - I can handle myself."
"Really?!"
His arm slumps to the table, the loud bang instantly setting off her assasin instincts. A startled Yor collects herself, as Yuri continues to ramble on obliviously. She really worried about her brother sometimes, as protective as he was, Yuri had the fighting skills of a baby deer.
"You are going to be going into an isolated cabin in the woods miles away from me - I mean - anyone else with no one but that Loid Forger and your daughter-"
"Do you really think that he won't take the chance to-"
"Yuri, don't be ridiculous." The woman sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Again, she wished that she had brought that bottle of wine. "Loid is my husband, he's not some blood-crazed maniac."
If anything, I'm the crazy one here. She thinks to herself.
"We will be fine."
"Tch." Like a petulant child, Yuri sits himself down on the chair opposite her: drumming his fingers across the wood. Yor slides him over a glass of water, and he drinks it to soothe his aching throat.
"..."
"Fine. If it makes you happy."
Yor tilts her head in concern. She would have probably left with or without his "permission". Truth be told, she just did it to make him feel better about himself.
"Really?"
"Yes." Yuri sighs again, melodramatic only to his sister. "I may not trust that slimeball of a man you married-"
"But I do trust my sister."
"So go on then," Yuri sighs dramatically. "But do come back soon. I'll miss you."
"Thank you."
Yor's smile makes the entire room lighter. She stands and brushes off her dress, clutching at her purse. Rattling inside are her weapons, her precious Thorns.
"Well Yuri, I'll see you tomorrow, I have to go buy some groceries to bring to the cabin-"
"Wait before you go, let me just say one last thing."
Looking over her shoulder, Yor notices a dull brown box - with some government seal on it. She notices her brother's gaze going from her to the box and to her again; before finally settling on her. Whatever it was, Yor decided that her brother's business was not something that she wanted or needed to pry about.
"Don't forget to always have a map, and some way to start a fire-"
"It gets cold in the East, so always have an extra layer of clothes with you-"
"And bring lots and lots of bear spray -"
"And call me everyday at roughly 6 p.m - if I don't pick up, try again at around 7 p.m-"
"Of course!" She nods.
"And if you see anyone- call me as soon as you can-"
"Stay away from homeless people too, we- I mean - the government hasn't had a chance to clean them out yet."
"And don't forget to stay away from the rivers! I heard that they get-"
"Bye Yuri!"
With a graceful slam of the door, the woman walks with a skip in her step. That had certainly taken much longer than she wanted it to, but with the relative period of peace in the country- Yor had only one target for the day. After her mission and the cleanup, she was sure she would be home before dinner.
Funny, it was easier to tell the Garden than it was to tell her brother about her vacation.