Lloyd and Yor Forger expected more of a reaction from their daughter as the news broke that evening. Instead, to their surprise she was relatively stoic and resigned in the face of the television and its broadcast.
"…we turn now to this evening's Business Brief, where the grand opening of the Bondman Café has been shelved for the foreseeable future…"
Which is not to say she wasn't upset by this turn of events; the sigh she emitted was heavy enough to send her faceplanting onto the floor. As she laid on the ground like a slug, Bond slowly gave her a sniff before emitting a sympathetic "Borf" before curling up beside her like some sentient blanket.
Still, it was a far cry from the apocalyptically tearful tantrum the two of them expected.
"…Earlier this afternoon, Seamus Lee Brayzen confirmed the eleventh-hour decision from the Spy Wars creative team and representatives from the Estate of Spy Wars author-"
Lloyd turns the television off and joins his wife as she consoles their child with a backrub.
"You're taking this rather well Miss Anya."
"I knew already this afternoon Mama." She said quietly.
(Earlier)
Nobody dared be foolish enough to stop Frank Lee Brazen.
Like a flung boulder disturbing the serenity of a pond, the deafening "boom" accompanying the cafeteria's doors being furiously flung open shattered whatever peace luncheon provided for the students of Eden earlier that day. The phrase that many who had the misfortune of recounting the spectacle of Frank's undignified meltdown as he bolted through the eatery came down to three words: a man possessed.
Rivers of tears and snot marred his violently crimson countenance.
His fists whiter than freshly laundered bedsheets from being balled up so tightly.
Some recounted seeing veins throbbing in his temple, or feeling a wall of steam being left in his wake after passing by.
The boy's inconsolable procession ended at the equally grand entranceway separating the Imperial Scholar's dining quarters from the rest of the Eden mess hall. With all the strength and fury his tiny fists can muster, Frank beat upon the solid oak doors as if they owed him money. Impervious to the pain in his hand accompanying each blow.
"THIS IS YOUR FAULT AND YOU KNOW IT SEAMUS!" The boy screeched. "YOU AND YOUR NEED TO BE HOT STUFF WITH GIRLS COST US THE BONDMAN CONTRACT! YOU KNOW, THE BIGGEST CONTRACT DAD'S COMPANY EVER SEALED! WE ALREADY HAD TO LET GO OF TWO PRIVATE CHEFS AND THE DOG'S BUTLER OVER THIS! HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET BY NOW? WE MIGHT AS WELL BE SERFS!"
Frank took a couple of steps back and stood in a fighting stance.
"IF YOU THINK THOSE DOORS ARE GONNA KEEP YOU FROM FACING ME, YOU'RE SORELY MISLED. ONE…TWO…"
Before Franklin could throw his body into the doors and possibly shatter every bone in his body, a pair of wizened and surprisingly strong hands scoop him off the ground by his armpits. It didn't take long for the Brazen brat to know which staff member served as the intercessor between him and harm.
"Cease. This. Inelegance. At. Once!"
The power in that all too familiar tone was enough to do the trick. The boy's temper simmered down considerably, though still not enough for the old man's liking. As the rest of the Eden kids clenched their innards in vicarious fear, the intended target of Professor Henderson's fury still retained his petulant puss in the face of his mentor.
"There are many ways, you could have conducted yourself Master Brazen; and evidently, you've chosen the wrong one. As such, I have no qualms about issuing you a Tonitrus Bolt-"
"WHAT?!" The boy bellowed with enough force to nearly blow out everyone's eardrum. Yet Professor Henderson remains unbowed and resolute.
"Shall I make it three?"
With a deep snarl and final rueful glance at the Imperial Scholar's dining quarters, Frank bowed his head as Professor Henderson pins a lightning bolt onto the collar of his Eden uniform and follows the elegant elderly educator to detention. Once the two of them were well out of earshot, the whispers commenced. Yet through it all, one student pushes her tray aside in sadness and starts to cry.
"Anya? What's the matter?" Becky said giving the girl a stack of napkins.
"No more Bondman Café." Anya replied glumly.
"Hey Bossman. Look at the little crybaby." Sniggered Ewen as he, Emile and Damian passed by.
"You think Professor Henderson should throw her a bolt as well?"
Even without Becky staring daggers at Damian and his pugnacious posse, the one christened "Sy-on Boy" felt his innards liquify watching the Forger girl sobbing with abandon into her friend's shoulder. Though he outwardly emitted an ambivalent scoff, the lad made a mental note to secretly send her a case of sweets later.
"C'mon guys. This is beneath us. She's pathetic enough without us overkilling it."
"Yeah. She looks too pathetic to mock." The chubby one chortled while the other beehive-headed brat turned towards George Glooman who sat nearby and morosely munched at his meal.
"Hey Gloomy! Congratulations! You're no longer the most histrionic crap nugget to come out of Eden."
"Aww. How do you guys still even remember that?" George said as he slouched further into the table.
(Present)
*[Riiiight.]* The Forger parents silently surmised as they glanced at each other stupidly. It made sense that Anya would have time to process thus development given how a turn of events of this magnitude would already have made its way among the Eden student grapevine. Not only was Seamus' son in Anya's age group, but something of a precedent had been set by another classmate who became privy to a less then pleasant turn of events surrounding his father's line of business.
"I think I'm going to bed."
Anya woefully stumbled away from her spot by the television with Bond in tow. Being the obedient canine he is, he sat in sentry as the door to Anya's bedroom closed for the night; silently letting out one last "borf" before shuffling off to his respective cot.
(Two Months Later)
"Hey Anya, there's news about that Bondman restaurant."
Looking up from her homework, the pink-haired girl excitedly walked over to her father who gestured to an article in the Leisure and Travel section of that weekend's Daily Ost. Taking up a substantial chunk of page five was an article bearing the following headline: Bondman Café (3.5/5 stars) Opening moved to Next March.
"What's the matter?" Yor inquired as she watched the girl's face go from joyful to perplexed.
"3.5 stars..." Anya said in quiet shock.
*{Can't say I'm too surprised.}* Lloyd surmised inwardly. *{Critics aren't exactly gracious to anything catering to children/families...still, 3.5 out of 5 isn't exactly a death sentence.}*
"Well. Let's be diplomatic and hear what he has to say." Lloyd said as his wife and daughter gathered about by the couch.
"'(Critic's Note: review written prior to LanskyCorp buyout and edited to reflect changes. For more details, see article on page B7). Bondman, the popular protagonist of the hit series Spy Wars embarks on his newest mission here in the city of Berlint: providing spy enthusiasts, families, and everyone in between food and fun at the new Bondman Café. And after dining at a recent preview of the restaurant open to critics and the who's-who of Ostania, I personally can call this mission a draw."
"'Though Bondman may live a life of adventure and intrigue, the bill of fare elects by and large to play it safe; Hamburg Steak, Bratwursts, Omurice, meatball appetizers, minestrone soup, etc. Having said that, the overall quality of the food was phenomenal. Exceptionally delicious were the "Legend" Drizzle Fish, Blackbean Bag Job Burrito (for vegetarians), Garlic MOLEserella Sticks (with "regular" M15 or "spicy" M16 marinara sauce) and, perhaps the most interesting item on the menu, the Honey Trap Baklava a la Mode. Much of the credit for this goes to one chef in particular Rubin Dohrn, a former bartender/prep cook at the Royal Hugaria. In addition to his current position, he is resuming his studies at BACA (Berlint Academy of the Culinary Arts) after having to drop out for personal reasons. Time will tell if he will be a head chef long term, or perhaps even start his own restaurant someday, but the future for him is certainly bright."
"Were there to exist a line between "faithful to the material" and "too much too fast", the restaurant's ambiance would sit all too comfortably in the middle. Fans of all stripes will more than assuredly find themselves enthralled at the feeling of entering a real-life version of S.C.R.E.A.M. (or the Subterranean Complex of Radicalism, Extremism, and Malice) what with the glowing magma light ornamenting the boulders, the bar area designed to look like a stack of monitors, a play space designed to evoke one of the main baddie's torture chamber and most ambitiously an archway of (assuredly docile) "sharks" swimming in an archway meant to divide the store and restaurant. Having said that, one can't help but find themselves in the shoes of some beleaguered parent who will guaranteed feel emotionally drained by the end of the meal (though not financially, as the prices for both supper and souvenirs are meant to court the common family man)…'"
*{This guy is quite fussy.}* Anya deadpanned internally as Lloyd took a break to wordlessly agree with a shake of his head.
"'…and while all the costumed staff's dedication to the role was collectively top notch; it was Dalton Koyner as the titular hero who didn't just steal the show with impunity, but made us thank him for the privilege of being burgled. One must find themselves wondering if he may or may not have tried to dabble in espionage in his own right. His people skills are-"
Lloyd turned the page over to continue reading the review. To his utmost shock (and by extension, Anya and Yor's unbridled joy), a picture of Dalton Koyner and Yulia Burr greeting Anya and Becky after their "mission" had somehow managed to make it into print. As her father's mind whirred and clanked like overworked machinery wondering how this will affect Operation STRIX in the long run, Anya pointed at the little blurb beneath the image.
"They got our names wrong Papa."
Sure enough, a cursory scan of the article bore the names of 'Betty' Blackbelle and 'Ania Ranger' as the lucky guests chosen to find the Princess' treasured tummy warmer.
*{Oh, some poor rookie has a loooong talk with Handler in their immediate future.}* Lloyd said glumly before concluding the article.
"'As much as I want to conclude that the Bondman Café has much at hand to delight even the most ardent of cynics, and dispel any impressions of being a garden variety cash grab, it's evident from yours truly as well as others that night that Brazen Corp. CEO Seamus Brazen (and by extension the Mandry's Corporation CEO I. N. Flemming) were in over their heads. And as the restaurant rebrands and relaunches in six months' time, we at the Daily Ost have high hopes for whatever direction Jillian and Theodore Lensky have in store for us.
"'Hy. F. Lewton. Entertainment Columnist at Daily Ost.'"
A brief pall of silence filled the Forger flat; on the one hand, they expected this. Family entertainment in general tends to be low-hanging fruit for caustic columnists to hone their art at manufacturing musings of a less than meek mentality. But what Mr. Lewton incorrect? Was he even the right fit for the task?
"What a buzzkill." Anya said flatly.
"Well, he does have a job to do at the end of the day…" began Yor before she sifted her voice in mock haughtiness "...HaViNG sAiD tHAt, we had a good time at least."
Anya beamed and let out a giggle.
"And Becky really liked it too Mama…"
While his wife and daughter continued to give their two cents, Lloyd grabbed the Daily Ost's business section and smiles to himself after finding the page B7: LanskyCorp Buyout Puts Bondman Café Back in Action.
"Oh, is that the other article, Papa?" Anya said inquisitively.
"Yeah, but I'm telling you now, it's going to be much more boring." Lloyd said before continuing to read. "Mostly just how by and large the new company is going to keep much of the staff on hand that we saw in the preview, see?"
Anya's eyes glanced at the photograph of Jill and Ted taken with assorted Bondman Café staff once the company assumed control of the franchise. To say Mrs. Lensky and Vanessa (one of Seamus Jr's little "girlfriends" he stood up) shared genetics would be a monumental understatement; the two could have passed for sisters were it not for the former's height, red rectangular glasses and almost platinum blonde hair which had been tied up in a large top knot. As such, it didn't take telepethetic powers for the girl to know how and why hands got transferred; especially upon seeing a dwarfed and deflated Seamus Brazen standing to the left of the café's new owners. Though he applauded along with the rest of the crew and tried to be a good sport despite losing this contract, the way his face froze in a strained smile as if he'd stepped barefoot in Bond's designated business box and needed to save face said it all. Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Lensky gave small but nonetheless reptilian grins of victory; as if to tell anyone seeing the photo 'we can buy the next six generations like you buy a bag of peanuts.'
"Oh Anya, this you might find interesting." Lloyd said.
" '…I had a chance to sit down with Mr. and Mrs. Lensky for an interview; and while they have as much ambition as the former owner (perhaps even more), there is still something measured and some might say egalitarian in his handling of the project.'"
JL: "One of the initial complaints across the board seemed to be how jam-packed the whole endeavor felt. And while we are keeping the initial café, but scaling it back to just shopping/eating. But we are keeping the aquarium…(laughs). All joking aside though, I and the board of shareholders for LenskyCorp feel why limit ourselves? As of ten hours ago, we just closed the deed on the former . Youth Skating Rink that was abandoned and bombed out in the war. That could easily be a dinner theatre setting.
TL: "Plus there was this other plan for an indoor playground being bandied about. So far, the most likely places were this former munitions plant in Luwen…oh yes, Westalis is just as crazy about Spy Wars as those of us on this side of the border, and think of how tensions would thaw between our two countries…but Plan B is this former roadside inn in Munk with a dramatic view of Newstone Castle on the horizon…perfect for those of us without the means to rent it out on a whim.'"
Lloyd's left hip began to throb, remembering all too well how Handler used it as a metaphorical chew toy after Anya got into Eden. Meanwhile, Yor cooed nostalgically about how she and Yuri used to catch fireflies near there as kids and that she'd love to show Anya the place she grew up someday.
"Hey Papa, can we go to the theatre when it opens? Please Papa? Can we? Can we? Can we?"
"Let's see how those grades turn out, then we'll talk." He said giving her pink hair a tussle.
As the girl let out a huff as if to ask herself why she expected a different answer, Lloyd and Yor Forger glanced back at the article; particularly at the thumb-sized publicity portrait of the Lenskys. When bereft of the cutthroat world they made a living in, Jillian and Theodore seemed like genuinely earnest, approachable and salt-of-the-earth people. And while they were the genuine article by all accounts, there was still that "scrappy star-crossed lovers" arc gilding their fairytale love story.
Both Theodore (ne' Benjamin) and Jillian (ne' LuciAnn) were the children of rival underworld kingpins before hostilities broke out. He hailing from Luwen and she from Covenia, both tried to kill one another, but falling in love was never part of the plan. Armed with the mutual realization that bombs and missiles care not for liquid swordfights among this or that crime syndicate, the two eloped shortly before the truce and worked on as noble a mission as one can get: making sure children don't have to cry because hardship and war was their daily bread.
*{"They have such a nice story overall."}* Yor thought to herself.
*{Almost makes you just want to give it all up.}* Lloyd said as he set down the paper.
Mr. and Mrs. Forger turn towards the other; each wearing as goofy and warm a grin as they can muster Their wordless and mutual yearning to abscond from their secret lived and surrender to the picture-perfect Forger Family available for public consumption could only be broken by an all too familiar five-word refrain from their daughter courtesy of the secrets she held tightly.
"Mama and Papa are flirty."
"NO WE ARE NOT!"
The End.