(Earlier/Meanwhile)
"Anya hasn't returned from the bathroom yet?"
Lloyd and Yor were beginning to get apoplectic over the disappearance of their daughter. It had been ten minutes since Becky had told the Forger parental units that Anya needed the facilities, but even she had begun to feel a sensation of guilt of guilt gnawing at her.
After all, she told the girl to do what she needed to do and assured her she'd bat cleanup.
But while Lloyd gripped his forehead in frustration over Anya's carelessness, Yor's mind went into darkness over what vile situations could have befallen her adopted daughter; kidnapped, married off to a pervert, organs sold in a cooler on the black market…Becky, meanwhile emitted an unamused hum before gently pushing her plate away and slowly drooping onto the table; offering only the occasional listless sip she of her drink as the sole example of sentience.
"What's the matter Miss Blackbell?" Yor asks upon noticing the girl's slouched state. "Are you not having an enjoyable time?"
Becky slowly turned her head towards at her rival turned mentor. Between the weary and despondent exhales as well as the glassy film over her half-lidded eyes, whatever strained façade of enjoyment she had been putting up all night wasn't just beginning to crack, but rather out-and-out crumble in the ugliest of ways.
Yet before she could fully disclose how deep her boredom ran, a foursome of furious females made her perk up as they brusquely barged toward the Brazen scion's table; a turn of events that caused Becky's lips to curl into a smug grin.
"Heh." Becky chuckled.
"Miss Becky?" Yor asked again with concern before seeing an outline in the young girl's eye of some rather angry looking women barreling toward the table where the first Brayzen scion held company with Catherine.
"Good evening." The first girl icily interjected.
"Have room for the rest of us?"
"Maybe they've got some spare tables we can shove together..."
"Heh..heh…ladies, ladies please…"
Whatever panic Lloyd and Yor possessed over Anya momentarily found itself shunted aside in favor of the drama unfolding halfway across the floor; the heartbroken harem of girls each one-upping each other as to how they could make the night uncomfortable for Seamus Jr. (who despite all efforts at turning on the charm found himself unable to put out the fire he had started).
"…I'm sure we all can work something out…"
"Oh man. For a minute I thought tonight was going to be completely boring for a minute." Becky laughed. "Serves the baboon right."
Through it all, Catherine remained the one spot of elegant tranquility around the bluster and bedlam as she pursed her lips in fury and mortification whilst wordlessly departing the scene.
"Catherine…Catherine please…I know I can explain…"
While Yor covered her mouth in misplaced pity for Seamus Jr., Lloyd's brow furrowed as he cupped his chin pensively.
*{Anya has been in the restroom for almost ten minutes, and now this bedlam at the Brayzen table. All my years as a spy tells me there shouldn't be a coincidence…and yet…that sinking feeling again…}*
The lights suddenly dimmed, and the sound of a helicopter's blade whirred over the restaurant's sound system. With a click, the illumination of a spotlight focuses on a corner of the restaurant just in time for a ladder to "fall" from the "helicopter". A thunderous applause fills the room as Dalton in full Bondman regalia descends.
"Aha! Citizens. What a fortuitous turn of events." He says with gusto upon 'leaping' onto the ground. "I am Bondman and I am in need of the assistance of one of you."
"Anya would be tickled pink if she were here." Yor cooed.
"Serves her right for getting lost." Lloyd said in his usually utilitarian voice. "We'll find her when this is all over."
"For the last fortnight, I have been on a fruitless mission assigned by my commander." Dalton hammily continued. "Yet I have no choice in the matter but to see to its successful conclusion. For it involves Princess Honey who not only sits on the throne of our country…(he looks skyward as a "moon" spotlight appears with Princess Honey's image surrounded by hearts and cherubs)…but also upon the throne of my heart."
Despite her best efforts, Becky found herself getting caught up in the moment. Clutching at her chest and emitting the treacliest of "squee"s, the brunette found herself flushed, invested, and very surprised at the drama and romance that went into Bondman.
"My petition to take this case public has been granted, and my commander told me that my liaison for the mission is among one of you present tonight at this very restaurant-"
"ME!"
Like a can of soda receiving that one shake too many, Becky bolted upright in some attempt at getting Bondman to notice her…an act that worked all too well as the restaurant goes dead silent while all eyes turn in her direction. Dalton meanwhile watched the mental image of his script disappear in a puff of smoke over the girl's outburst.
"Young citizen." He says while still attempting to remain in character. "I applaud your zeal. Truly I do…yet my commander gave specific instructions as to who I am to pick."
With a harrumph. Becky sat back down.
"I was told my liaison would reveal themselves by way of the secret symbol beneath their dinner plate. So on the count of three, I trust you know what to do from there. One. Two. Three. "
With speeds akin to a frog devouring a fly, Becky looked beneath not only her plate but that of the absent Anya Forger. While the underside of her pink-haired friend's platter remained unmarred, hers was a whole other ballgame.
"RIGHT HERE!"
A spotlight falls on the Blackbell girl as she brandishes her plate skyward; the rear of which bears the insignia of Bondman's mask.
"Ah, the eager one." Dalton says as he stands beside Becky and fumbles about his pocket. "And whom do I have the pleasure of calling my liaison?"
"Rebecca Blackbell." The girl replies as she is handed a manila envelope and a plastic badge.
"Well Miss Blackbell, on behalf of ISA-3, I officially deputize you for the duration of this mission and entrust you with this debrief…(the helicopter whirring starts up)…everything should be clear, but I'm afraid my time here has run its course. The fate of the kingdom is now in your hands.
As Bondman ascends and the lights turn back on proper, Becky runs back to the table to go over the debrief. However, it doesn't take long before the newfound lease on Spy Wars deflates upon opening the envelope and processing the full extent of her mission.
"A tummy warmer?"
Lloyd takes a break from internally keeping track of how many misconceptions and falsities came with what he has finished witnessing when stacked against a typical day at WISE to look at the "official" memorandum.
"Princess Honey's tummy warmer has been taken by an unknown member of the League of Evil and hidden in a far-off land. Despite having in our custody a suspect who has all too gleefully confessed, all efforts at interrogation have yielded the three following riddles:
We're not the first ones you'd think of as chums. Especially at dinnertime.
Loud or not, you can take stock in us blowing you away.
Will a swim in our pool bring Treasure and Treachery?
You have one hour and your wits. The fate of the kingdom depends on you.
Lloyd pursed his lips as he handed Becky back the dossier. Cracking the code was child's play, and of the three codes he could deduce which one would be the most optimal answer. But at the end of the day, it was Becky's mission not his.
"Yor. Becky and I will look around for Anya. Do you mind holding down the fort here if she comes back?"
Every nerve in Becky's body went into Mach 7 speed as Lloyd took the Blackbell girl's hand. The world didn't dissolve so much as it shattered leaving only the two of them…that is until at least a distinctive pink bob of hair crossed their path.
