She could feel them – two violent auras behind her. It didn't matter that they were blended into the crowd of fellow morning commuters; Yor had been a part of Garden long enough to be able to sniff out malicious intent like a bloodhound. She supposed she should be more worried, given that the intent seemed directed at her, and Loid had warned her about his own shadows. Her current work attire wasn't exactly the best for combat if they tried something right now but, honestly, latching onto the unusual sense of danger on this warm morning was the only thing keeping her thoughts from reeling out of control over…other things.

Anya. Her precious Anya.

Attacked, in the past. Hunted, even now.

All because she could…read minds? Apparently?

'Anya heard you think stabby thoughts….'

She could still barely wrap her head around it. How could she have expected that confronting Loid about what she'd learned from Mr. Roche would result in…all of that? After going to bed, she'd spent much of the night rolling the conversation through her mind, turning over every word for the possible lies. She'd hated considering that her family might be lying to her (taking advantage of her naïveté, like Yuri had often warned) but the betrayal that had sat heavily in her stomach after her lunch with Mr. Roche, and the shame from having been tricked before, forced her to second guess everything all the same.

But Loid's discomfort and guilt seemed genuine. Anya's desperation to be believed seemed real.

Anya knew about her second job.

All this time…

'Anya heard you think stabby thoughts…'

She slapped her cheeks lightly. How could she subject such an innocent child to all of that?! How many times has she casually thought about her missions within earshot (mind-shot?) of Anya? Anya must be so scared of her, secretly knowing that her adoptive mother was such a violent freak! Loid didn't seem to know anything about her, or he certainly would have kicked her out as soon as he could…Even though he's never thought badly of her for her feats of strength before, she knew that no man would want a wife that…got her hands dirty…the way she did. She should apologize to him, at least, for her suspicion that he was the threat in all of this. Oh, if anything, how much more danger was Yor putting Anya in by being her mother, given that the Ostanian underworld seemed involved in this mess?!

People were still targeting her, given the photograph Shopkeeper had shown her at the beginning of the week. Yor found herself sinking back into her darkest impulses as she considered the implications of that. People who targeted children were scum. Yor was as professional as they came, but targets that hurt children always found themselves in a little bit more pain than strictly necessary, at her hands.

Her tails were still behind her as she turned onto the street that held City Hall. Her fingers itched to eliminate them.

She casually greeted the receptionist, Sara Schulz, as she always did these days, and poked her head into the kitchenette near the clerks' office. The only person in there was Sharon, standing by the window, a teacup in one hand and her usual cigarette in the other.

"Good morning, Sharon," Yor smiled pleasantly.

Sharon looked up and nodded in greeting. Yor liked her. All of the office girls had gotten closer in the last few months, but Yor would always appreciate that Sharon was the first one to make a point of complimenting her for being more normal and inviting her out with the rest of them for drinks. She also had a son that went to Eden; he was in a different class than Anya, but it still felt nice to have someone who could connect with her, even in that tiny little way.

She was also the least likely to needle Yor about her strange behavior, or ask her too many personal questions, which is what she needed right now.

"Have you seen Mr. McMahon this morning?" Yor asked, "I need to speak with him."

As expected, Sharon raised her eyebrow in question but didn't voice any, "I saw him walk past twenty minutes ago. He's probably in his office."

"Thank you," Yor bowed slightly and ducked back out.

It wasn't normal for her to approach the Director, especially when it came to non-City Hall matters, so when she knocked on his office door and entered at his request, she could sense his surprise.

"Good morning, Mrs. Forger," he said serenely, even as his sharp eyes bore into her, "What brings you to my office so early?"

Yor thought to the dread and panic she first felt when she saw that photograph of her husband on Monday. The confusion and fear, and then righteous rage, as Loid and Anya explained exactly why that photograph existed. The itch to do something that she'd felt this morning.

She closed his door and locked it.

"Sorry for interrupting, Director," Yor said, taking a deep breath, "But I have an order request for some flowers from your office?"

His expression didn't change, "Your call last night was sufficient enough notice for your request to speak with the Shopkeeper. Why re-iterate this with me in person?"

Alright, so if he was speaking about Garden directly, he had already conducted his daily office sweep and found it clean, "I don't know if Shopkeeper informed you, sir, but this is a matter that cannot wait. There is a matter involving my family that he must be made aware of as soon as possible. Possibly today."

At that, his eyebrows finally raised in alarm, "Is Thorn Princess compromised?"

Yor hesitated. Did it count if a six-year-old knew, but only because she happened to read minds? "…Its complicated, sir, which is why I need to inform Shopkeeper."

Mr. McMahon scrutinized her, "Will this require resources?"

"Hopefully not," Yor said, "I was hoping for permission to deal with it myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Yor insisted, allowing some of that righteous rage to color her expression.

Nobody would touch her family and get away with it.

XXX

Loid was just pushing his work aside for the day when Yor called to let him know she'd be home late.

Compromised. Compromised. Compromised.

The agitation that had been crawling under his skin all day spiked. He couldn't help it; he knew exactly how far-fetched his current situation must seem to her. An ordinary psychiatrist with an adopted daughter that was being targeted for her ability to read minds? Even if Yor didn't think he was continuing to lie to him, everything he and Anya had revealed was more than enough craziness to scare her towards the SSS. He'd listened in to her phone call the night before, just to make sure she wasn't selling them out right away and, although he only overheard her ordering flowers (a strange thing to order so late in the evening after a tough conversation, but maybe she just wanted a distraction to get her mind off things as she worked through her shock?), he couldn't help but remain on edge.

He hated that he felt the need to resort to it again, but he had slipped a bug under her collar that morning, avoiding the pointed look that Anya gave him and the guilt that roiled in his stomach.

'This is for Anya's safety,' he'd told himself as he followed her to City Hall, in disguise, via Berlint's alleys and rooftops.

'This is for the preservation of the Forgers,' he'd told himself as he spotted two men, one of which looked like one of his own occasional tails, following close behind her. Her WISE detail was further back in the crowd on the street, close enough to still keep an eye on her but far enough not to draw attention in the same way the more hostile pair would. He wasn't worried for her safety – the men wouldn't dare approach her in such a public space and he had no doubt she could hold her own in a fight if they did manage to isolate her – but he needed the reminder that, now that Yor had been seen contacting Mr. Roche, she had guaranteed herself becoming a new target for whoever was trying to track down Anya.

As he watched her walk up the City Hall steps, her stalkers stopping at the end of the block, he worked up the courage to activate the bug he'd planted. It was the last gadget he'd gotten from Franky before it had become too dangerous to contact him directly – another functional listening device needed because he'd destroyed his last one. It didn't matter that he destroyed the last one after Yor had proved herself trustworthy. This was different!

'This is for STRIX,' he'd told himself, as his thumb ran over the button to activate the receiver. This was necessary, given that City Hall's phones were all wiretapped by the SSS and Loid needed to know right away if Yor was going to report them.

He heard her greet some people through the headphones of the receiver as he settled in on the roof. He had to hand it to Franky, the audio quality for this bug's microphone was much better than the previous one. The receiver's range seemed to be wider too. For a moment, Loid allowed his mind to drift to all the possible future uses of this device, once he retrieved it from Yor's person in the evening. But his focus snapped back when he heard something in Yor's voice change.

"Have you seen Mr. McMahon this morning?" Yor's voice sang through, "I need to speak with him."

'Mr. McMahon'…Loid flipped through his mental database of City Hall employees. Ah, the Director of Policy. Not Yor's direct supervisor. Loid frowned. Why would she need to see the director of a different department first thing in the morning? Was this related to work? Was she planning to tell him what she had learned? As the Director of Policy, he was more likely to have contacts in the SSS and would thus be a feasible contact to report to if she didn't want to make a call. But calling gave her the option of anonymity, and Loid couldn't see her wanting him to know she was the one turning him in, so why…

He didn't catch the response she got to her question but heard her thanks clear as day. There was silence, except for the sound of her heels clacking on the tile floor, until he heard a knock and a door open.

"Sorry for interrupting, Director," Yor said, "But I have an order request for some flowers from your office?"

Loid's concern turned into confusion. Flowers, again? Was this related to the call she made last night? What about the conversation with Anya had made her remember a task so…mundane?

Yor's voice suddenly took on a steely tone, "I don't know if Shopkeeper informed you, sir, but this is a matter that cannot wait. There is a matter involving my family that he must be made aware of as soon as possible."

Ah.

So that was it.

Compromised. Compromised. Compromised.

It had all been code. 'Flowers' was information, and this 'Shopkeeper' must be the Director's contact in the SSS. Maybe Yor wasn't aware that her own brother was in the SSS, but she certainly seemed to know how to use their resources in a way that a completely ignorant civilian wouldn't. Anya had mentioned that Yor had a second job…was it being an SSS informant? But if Anya was aware of Yor's job, why wouldn't she inform him of the danger, given that his cover would constantly be in jeopardy? Maybe she didn't understand the consequences? Although, the girl knew enough not to let Yor catch onto him either so maybe she, in her six-year-old logic, didn't think it mattered?

Loid didn't need to hear the rest of the conversation. After hearing Yor insist on speaking with this 'Shopkeeper' – likely an SSS chief officer connected to City Hall – directly, he'd heard enough. As he rushed to work and settled into his role for the day, he notified Nightfall of the possible Code Red and directed her to ask their mole in the SSS to notify them of any and all movement. He'd need to send an agent to pack up his gear back at the apartment. He would also need to find a way to retrieve Anya as well, or make arrangements for someone to take her in since he wasn't about to leave the country without her somewhere safe. He needed…he needed…

His thoughts continued to spiral with plans. Even as the hours ticked by and no news came of an incoming arrest or ambush, he mentally prepared to have his office door kicked in by SSS officers at any moment.

And then Yor had called and said she would be home later than usual.

She said she just had to complete some paperwork for a project that had crossed her desk at the last minute. Well, that's what she had said. He ran through the conversation he had overheard that morning as he gathered his things and tried not to spiral. Everything would be fine. Handler had been updated on the situation, notified of the potential danger, and plans had been solidified for extraction if necessary. The agents that had been posted to follow Yor would notify him if they saw her go anywhere suspicious. Everything was fine.

His stalkers for the day – a stocky woman, and a man he recognized as Stefan Schwarz, this time – were a familiar enough prickle on the back of his neck as he made his way home, but he remained wary of any extra attention directed his way. How long before the uniform that dotted his nightmares (no thanks to Yuri Briar) would cross his path and slap cuffs on him? How long before STRIX collapsed like a house of cards because he had grown soft enough to tell his fake wife a ridiculous-sounding truth?

Ditching his shadows was a little harder than usual, given his distracted state of mind, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally shook them off and was able to enter 128 Park Avenue in peace. He remained on edge throughout the whole evening though, even as he distracted himself with mission reports and cooking and watching the news. Anya picked up on his mood as soon as she returned home from school and he resorted to reciting his pistol cleaning manual, front to back, to prevent her from even getting a glimpse of what he was so concerned about. He spotted her staring at him with squinted eyes at different moments during the evening, and a part of him wondered if she could brute force her way past the mental barrier he was putting up, but she didn't say a word to him outside of her ordinary complaints about school and the Desmond boy and her excitement over that night's episode of Spy Wars.

Tucking her into bed almost caused him to slip, because Anya asked for the third time that night where her mama was, just as he was wondering the same. However, before the thought of what he'd overheard that morning could solidify, he drowned it out with thoughts of Anya's upcoming math test and how he hoped she'd improve her grades, paired with a very pointed look. Anya gulped and turned over to face the wall, receiving his message to get out of his head loud and clear.

It was close to midnight when Loid, reading a book while waiting for Yor to return, heard a knock at the door. He was immediately alert, given that nobody had any business with him at this time of night, and Yor would just let herself in. He waited to see what would happen, pushing down the desire to go grab his pistol from his bedroom. After a few seconds, the sound of flesh on wood rang out again, but in a familiar pattern. A WISE pattern.

Loid allowed himself to relax a fraction as he opened the door. It was still a possibility that the SSS had managed to acquire WISE's communication codes, and this was all a trap, so he needed to be ready to defend himself or flee at a moment's notice.

A young man was on the other side of the door, and he flashed Loid a signal with his left hand as soon as they made eye contact. This was a WISE agent with urgent news. Loid didn't recognize the agent, but that wasn't odd; he didn't know every single agent that WISE employed. That wasn't his job.

Loid let him in and raised a brow as the agent walked deeper into the apartment and collapsed into one of the dining chairs, "Are we clean?" the man muttered in code.

He nodded, "What is the matter."

The agent sighed, "I've come to give you a report as a member of Yor Forger's detail today."

Loid felt his tension return. Did they notice any strange behavior that would corroborate what he had overheard? Were they in danger?

Loid's eyes flicked to Anya's bedroom door.

"Did something happen?"

The agent hesitated, and it was that that made Loid notice the man's hands shaking, which was more worrying than anything he could say. WISE agents were strong, unbendable machines for the state. Everything was for the mission. Obvious tells of stress, and other clear signs of weakness, were beaten out of them within the first year of their grueling training.

"If you aren't already aware," Loid continued slowly, "WISE issued a Code Red due to a conversation I heard Yor Forger engage in this morning. I had reason to suspect she may have reported some information to the SSS that could put STRIX in danger. If you have anything regarding her whereabouts today that – "

"Its not the SSS," the agent finally blurted, shaking, "Its Garden."

XXX

Sonja saw the target approaching just as she had made herself comfortable at the mouth of the alleyway. She seemed to be a put-together woman walking home from work, an ordinary civilian. Kind of pretty. She seemed well-off enough to spare a few coins on some flowers from a poor beggar woman.

Good.

Sonja knew that all she needed to do was play her part and get the woman to confirm some information for her cohorts listening in nearby. If they were correct about this woman, she would leave the rest to them. If they were wrong, no harm, no foul, and they would circle back to the businessman and that doctor. Still, from the intel they had so far, it did seem like this woman knew something; Peter and Stefan had already confirmed seeing her with Roche and overhearing the girl being mentioned during their conversation. Apparently, the woman had looked after the girl, if she wasn't doing so still, and that was good enough for their boss to encourage a more direct confrontation. Sonja still didn't know why this child was needed or why the boss was so antsy about retrieving her location – she wasn't high up enough for that kind of information – but the money that was coming from this job was keeping her brother fed and healthy and that was all that Sonja cared about.

"Hello, miss?" Sonja asked once the woman was close enough.

The woman tucked her jet-black hair behind her ear as she gave Sonja a once-over. The hesitation was all Sonja needed.

"I have some flowers and handmade toys," she said before the woman could open her mouth, "I've been trying to sell them all day and only need a few more dalc to buy dinner for my young son. Would you mind?"

The woman's face softened as a smile crossed her lips, "Oh, of course! Let me see them!"

Sonja shifted so that the woman could see the toys she had in the basket beside her, "Thank you, miss," she waited as the woman chose a block puzzle set that Sonja had purchased mere hours ago for 15 dalc, "Do you have children of your own?"

"Just one," the woman hummed as she also selected a small doll. The woman put the chosen items down as she began to fish for money in her purse.

"That's lovely," Sonja replied, "I can write her name on the toys, if you'd like. Like a personalized gift!"

The woman paused, "'Her?'"

Damn. Sonja thought frantically to recover from her slip-up, not letting the mild panic show, "…I assumed the doll is for a girl. Am I wrong?"

Thankfully, the woman seemed to buy the excuse, "Ah yes," she said, blushing slightly, "My little girl…"

She handed Sonja the money. 10 dalc.

"What's her name?"

The woman regarded her for a moment, "…Anya."

While Sonja retrieved a paper bag to put the toys in – her only paper bag – she began to whistle a soft melody that would certainly carry down the alley to her accomplices. 'Target hot, proceed with confrontation.'

"Thank you very much, miss, my son won't go hungry tonight." Sonja said as she handed the woman the bag.

The woman nodded once and carried on her way. A few seconds later, Sonja packed up the basket, hid it behind a dumpster, and follow in the direction of where the woman went. Technically, her work here was done, but she was curious to see what would happen to the woman and, maybe, what was so special about this Anya girl they were all tasked with tracking down.

She followed the woman for two more blocks before she spotted her accomplices for the night, Peter and Karl, loitering on the empty street. As the woman approached them, Karl's head whipped up.

"Good evening, miss," he drawled, "Can we talk to you for a second?"

"Sorry," the woman said, "I don't have anything – "

"And we're not going to take anything from you," he replied quickly, "We just have a few questions for ya."

The woman clutched her bag closer to her side, clearly uncomfortable, "I really must be getting home…"

"Do you know this person?" Peter pulled a photograph out of his pocket and held it up for the woman to look at. Sonja didn't know who the subject of the photo was, and she wasn't close enough to take a look, but the woman must have recognized who it was because her whole demeanor changed. She pulled out of her self-conscious slouch and shifted into a steadier stance.

"Who are you?" she bit out. Sonja's eyes widened, surprised that such cold voice could come from such a soft-seeming woman. Karl and Peter seemed shocked too. They exchanged glances before Peter reached out his arm.

"We can explain it all if you – "

It happened so quickly that Sonja thought she might have blinked and missed it. One moment, Peter was standing, casually reaching out to grab the woman's arm. The next, he was slumped on the ground against a nearby building, head lolling. The woman's hands went up to her mouth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I'm married! I don't like other men touching me. And I don't think I want to go anywhere with you."

Karl looked between Peter and the woman, stunned for a moment, before his face grew stern. Sonja saw what was about to happen and fought to call out. 'Karl, you idiot!' she thought loudly, instead, as she watched the bigger man reach for the woman and get folded in almost the same way. He didn't even have time to cry out.

With both men incapacitated, the woman looked around quickly before heading to a payphone across the street. Sonja took the opportunity to run over to where they had collapsed.

"Peter!" she hissed, as she approached him. He didn't seem dead, his head still nodding forwards and backwards like he was fighting to stay conscious, but it could be a near thing if he didn't get help soon. There was a small spot of blood on the brick behind him so, at the very least, he had a severe concussion. Karl seemed completely unconscious. Unmoving on the pavement, sprawled over Peter's legs. The arm that he had reached out to the woman with was bent slightly at an abnormal angle, so it was definitely broken. The photograph Peter had held was nearby and Sonja turned it over to find that it was a picture of a small, unsmiling girl in a hospital gown. Was this Anya?

"Were you with them?" Sonja was startled as the woman's voice sounded out behind her. She turned to see the woman standing with her hands on her hips, staring directly at her. She tilted her head consideringly, "You said 'her', like you already knew…and then they were asking about her…"

Sonja gulped, "How did you do that to them?"

The woman stepped forward.

Then, Sonja knew darkness.

Yor is making moves to protect her little girl and Loid has opened a (second) can of worms! Now that Yor's been made aware of the situation, she's letting less slip past her, but how was she supposed to know that WISE would be keeping a closer eye on her and, thus would be getting front row seats to the Thorn Princess in action? And while Twilight may have brushed off mentions of Garden in the past (the SSS is a MUCH larger threat for him to keep track of) there's no way WISE, as an espionage-based agency operating in a foreign country, would do the same. How will things turn out with the introduction of new players in this game?

In case of any confusion, this chapter takes place in the same 24hr period from three perspectives, just at different points.