Latest Update:March 11, 2023
Summary: Out of all the possibilities Loid had calculated for, he admitted that being tied to a chair with the Thorn Princess standing in front of him was not one of them. Much less the fact that the Thorn Princess was apparently his wife, Yor. Things just got a lot more complicated.
Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/14087235/1/Secrets-Unraveled
Word count:19k
Chapters:8
Chapter 1
Deep cover.
It's a term that's thrown around far too casually, attributed to practically any mission that involves going undercover. The fact is, a deep cover mission is different from a run-of-the-mill undercover mission. Whereas with the latter it's merely an exercise of temporarily adopting a cover ID as a mask, for the former it's the matter of becoming the mask itself.
While any average spy or even a skilled law enforcement officer can easily go undercover, using fake identification and perhaps a disguise or two, only the best of the best of operatives can ever pull off a deep cover.
It is used when going after the hardest of targets. The ones who won't be fooled by a lie, the ones who are only still alive due to their immense caution and paranoia, the ones who can see through fakes and imitations. The only way to deceive targets like these is to become the real thing itself. But that doesn't come without effects of its own.
To become another man for months or even years exacts a heavy toll on the mind, no matter how trained or skilled you are. Even with the best compartmentalization techniques, you cannot avoid being intrinsically changed at the most basic level to some degree. The line between fact and fiction becomes blurred, and often you are left wondering whether you are still the same person you were before.
Twilight is well aware of all this. With every month that passes, he can see the changes occur within himself. When every minute of his life is devoted to adopting the mindset, the mannerisms, and the personality of Loid Forger, at some point it ceases being a complete act.
Which is the point, he supposes. In order for him to get close to Donovan Desmond, Twilight must appear for all intents and purposes to be Loid Forger, the father of Anya Forger and the husband of Yor Forger. Even if he loses a little bit of himself in the process.
Everything is for the sake of the mission. Operation Strix must succeed, no matter the cost.
However, the one downside of deep cover is that, at the end, when you have lived the life of another man for such a long time that it is impossible to distinguish where the lies begin and end...
It can be difficult to accept the mission coming to an end.
After years of conflicts and tension, the Ostanian and Westalian governments are finally signing a treaty to bring the pseudo cold war to an end. It will take place in a week in Sweizerland, a third-party politically neutral country that has agreed to host the diplomatic conference.
Once the treaty is signed, Loid Forger will no longer be needed to prevent Donovan Desmond, the leader of the National Unity Party, from harming truce efforts between the two countries and igniting a war.
Twilight knows he should be delighted by the news. Operation Strix will be a total success, and peace will finally be achieved at long last.
Loid Forger, however...
He once again scans the paper in his hand. His gaze lingers on the black bold letters that informs him that once the treaty is signed, he will discard the identity of Loid Forger and return to active duty with WISE, Westalis's intelligence agency.
It isn't a surprise, really. He knew that this mission would either end with the Forger family being dissolved or a bullet in the back of his head.
And yet... he can't help but clench his fists, crumpling the paper slightly.
He is Twilight, but he is also Loid Forger.
Can he really abandon his family like that?
Yes. Of course he can. It is merely a fake family constructed for the purposes of his cover identity –
No.
The time when he can call it fake has long passed.
Anya... Yor...
He closes his eyes.
For the first time in his career, he feels lost. Helpless.
What should he do?
「」
The next day, he receives another file. WISE has received intelligence that Donovan Desmond may potentially be planning to sabotage the treaty and plunge the two countries into another war.
(He ignores how he feels a spark of elation shoot through him at the news. He shouldn't be happy about this. Not at all.)
It appears that Donovan Desmond will be hosting a small gala for high-ranking National Unity Party members at his manor. This is an extremely rare occurrence – even though Desmond is the leader of the National Unity Party, he never attended any of the events or gatherings for fear of assassins, much less hosted one at the Desmond Manor. For him to host this one means that he is likely planning something drastic.
Fortunately, it is a simple matter for Twilight to slip in undercover as a member of the National Unity Party. The target has already been determined – one of the relatively more important officials, Ian Ryder. Twilight has already met the man once before in the past during a mission, so impersonating him will be no trouble.
The gala will take place later tonight, which means Yor will have to –
Oh, right. Yor already told him that she had to do something for her job at the city hall tonight, didn't she? Which means she won't be able to take care of Anya. Thankfully, their neighbor, the old grandmother, agreed to babysit Anya.
"You have to work later tonight as well?" Yor asks once he finishes the phone call to the old grandmother.
Loid nods. "One of my patients requires extra treatment."
Yor pauses, looking apprehensive. "This treatment wouldn't happen to be the concussive recovery method, would it?"
"Of course not," Loid laughs. "It's not that serious, thankfully."
"I see," Yor smiles. "Good luck, then."
Loid smiles back. "Thank you."
Then he casts a gaze around their apartment. Anya is watching the show Spy Wars on the couch, smiling and cheering as explosions and gunshots sound from the television. Yor has returned to sharpening their collection of kitchen knives with an expression on her face that Loid doesn't really want to question. Bond, their dog, is curled up in the corner sleeping blissfully.
He will miss this.
「」
The infiltration goes off without a hitch. Loid ambushes the official, Ian Ryder, inside his bedroom, knocking him out with a potent drug that would keep him unconscious for the next twelve hours. Putting on his disguise – a combination of facial latex to alter his face shape, a wig, padding underneath his clothes, and colored contact lenses – he exits the bedroom and gives the instructions to a nearby maid that nobody is allowed to enter his room in order to prevent the servants from discovering the real Ian Ryder.
A brief drive later, he enters the gala with no issues, bypassing the security effortlessly. As he walks in, he glances around the entire hall, making special note of all the entrances and exits and cross-referencing them to the blueprints he memorized before. No surprises there, fortunately.
He once had the misfortune of infiltrating a building to which the owner had made some... home improvements, which led to him turning a corner and meeting a solid wall where there was supposed to be a window, and thus forcing him to improvise an escape with the liberal application of explosives. That was not a fun night.
Donovan Desmond is nowhere to be seen; he likely hasn't arrived yet. Mingling with the crowd, Loid allows himself a moment of satisfaction at his disguise. Nobody suspects a thing – he mimicked Ian Ryder's personality and mannerisms perfectly, down to every minute nuance.
He isn't regarded as one of the best spies in the world for nothing.
The treaty is at the forefront of every conversation. As expected, the members of the National Unity Party absolutely loathe it. Westalis is the enemy, they say, and signing this treaty will only cause Ostania to decline and become weak.
A clear ringing sound echoes through the hall, as if someone just tapped metal against glass. Everyone quiets down, turning over to see Donovan Desmond stride into the hall, setting down his glass and a spoon on a nearby table. Then, with an inscrutable expression on his face, he begins his speech.
While Donovan Desmond speaks negatively of the treaty, he doesn't talk about sabotage or war at all. Instead, he appears to be taking the stance of bracing for the negative effects, as if he's already accepted the treaty will be signed and is only looking to mitigate the damages.
As applause breaks out when the speech concludes, Loid narrows his eyes. This is not the speech someone gives if they were preparing to sabotage the treaty. Perhaps WISE's intelligence was wrong after all?
But no, Loid needs to be certain. He has to speak to Desmond personally.
And so, as Donovan Desmond steps back out of the hall, Loid follows him. Desmond's usual entourage of bodyguards is conspicuously missing; Loid is surprised the notoriously paranoid leader has so much faith in the gala's security. Although to be fair, this is the Desmond Manor. The security at this mansion is undoubtedly the cream of the crop, and indeed all previous attempts of infiltration by WISE have ended in complete failure.
It just so happens that Loid is better.
He rounds the corner to see Desmond walk into a room, the large oak door shutting behind him with a thud. His private study, perhaps?
After a glance around to check nobody is nearby, Loid makes his way in front of the door. Raising his hand and taking a deep breath, he gives a single sharp knock.
"Come in."
Loid opens the door and steps inside. As he thought, this is Desmond's private study. Bookshelves line the walls, and there is a white leather couch on the left side of the room. The party leader is sitting behind an old walnut wood desk that probably cost more than a small automobile.
"Good evening," Desmond says, piercing Loid with an inscrutable gaze. "You are..."
"Ian Ryder," Loid smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine," Desmond says, his expression unchanging. "Is there something that you need?"
"Why yes, actually," Loid says, his body language as disarming and friendly as possible. "I absolutely loved your speech. I definitely agree with your points of making sure we don't lose our cultural heritage and minimizing the damages from the treaty. However..." He hesitated. "I wanted to ask you a question about the treaty itself."
"I see," Desmond's voice is flat. "Well, I'd be happy to answer your questions. However, I require some time to freshen up. Do you mind?"
"Oh! No, no, go ahead. I guess I was a little too enthusiastic," Loid laughs sheepishly. "Please, take your time. I apologize for my haste."
Desmond gives him a smile. "It's no worries," he murmurs. "You can have a seat," he gestures at the couch. "I'll be right back."
"Thank you." Loid inclines his head and sits down as Desmond disappears into a door at the back of the room. He leans back against the comfortable cushions, waiting patiently. An ornamental grandfather clock is ticking in the corner of the room, and Loid finds himself relaxing somewhat as he sinks deeper into the cushions. Everything is going according to plan.
He mentally runs over how he is going to approach the conversation with Desmond. He'll probably first present himself as someone who despises the treaty and wishes for it to fail, then surreptitiously ask if Desmond has any plans to... delay the treaty, so to speak –
Loid pauses.
Work as a spy for long enough, and you'll eventually develop a sixth sense for when your cover has been blown. It may only be baseless intuition, but it is this intuition that has kept Loid alive throughout the years, and it is this intuition that is currently blaring alarm bells in his mind. Something is wrong.
His vision sharpens as he enters a state of hyperawareness, extending all his senses to the extreme as he discreetly shifts in the couch to adopt a more combat-ready position.
Nothing happens.
Hmm. Perhaps he's just on edge with all the recent events –
There is a soft rustling sound, so quiet that it would be inaudible to the average person, but to Twilight it's like a small explosion. He doesn't react outwardly, of course; he's far too skilled to just relinquish the element of surprise like that. The only clue to any attackers that he's ready to counterattack is the imperceptible tensing of a tendon in his neck.
He strains his ears as he tries to detect where the noise came from. It sounded as if it came from above...
It is only his instincts that saved him. He threw himself down as something passed over his head, so fast that it whistled through the air and rustled his hair. Loid immediately leaped away before whirling around to face his attacker –
His eyes widen as he comes face to face with Yor Forger.
Distantly, he's aware that there's a hole in the ceiling – evidently, she had dropped into the room through there. However, he's a little more focused on the fact that his wife, who is supposed to be working at the city hall right now, instead just attempted to take off his head.
Yor looks different, so different that Loid wonders if he mistook her identity at first. But no, it's definitely her. She's wearing a black dress that shows off her shoulders and cleavage with a rose choker and black thigh-high boots. And her eyes... her red eyes, normally filled with kindness, are now cold, merciless, utterly lacking any warmth or humanity.
The eyes of an assassin.
No, not just any assassin, Loid realizes.
He has heard hushed whispers of such an assassin before, of a woman with red eyes in a black dress. Nobody knows anything about her, and indeed there are doubts if she's even real, or if she is just a myth sustained by vague rumors, but standing in front of her now...
Loid swallows.
Since when in the world was Yor Forger the Thorn Princess?!
But no, it all makes sense. Her incredible skill with martial arts, her knowledge of pressure points, her obsession with knives...
...
Come to think of it, he probably should've been a lot more suspicious of her, huh.
Ah well. Hindsight is 20/20, and all that.
"You must be the spy they call Twilight," Yor says in a soft, melodic voice, raising her golden weapons. "I'm honored that I'll be the one to finally take you down."
Loid eyes the weapons warily. They were long thin spikes, shaped like thorns. Likely where she got her name.
Then what she said finally registered, and Loid tensed up. They were expecting him? A trap? But how?!
"Wait," he raises a hand. "This is just a misunderstanding. I'm Ian Ryder – "
He cursed inwardly as Yor ignores him completely, flinging her weapons at him. He narrowly avoids them and only barely manages to block the punch she throws, and even then his forearm goes numb from the unbelievable strength of the attack.
His only saving grace is that it appears she hasn't recognized him. His disguise is flawless, after all. The facial latex, wig, contact lenses, and body padding all ensures he looks nothing like Loid Forger, which means that he shouldn't be compromised as long as he's able to escape.
Unfortunately, escaping is far easier said than done.
This is not like their "fight" back in the castle he rented. Yor is using lethal force here, her every strike designed to deal a crippling blow. A master spy he may be, but when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, Yor is clearly superior. By a ridiculous margin at that. This is a fight he cannot win.
He doesn't have access to any of his weapons due to the security at the gala. Thankfully, he has a smoke bomb pellet on him that he can use to cover his escape –
Pain explodes in his chest and he feels several of his ribs crack as the wind is knocked out of him. He folds over from her punch, struggling to breathe, and he tastes blood in his mouth. Such devastating power.
"You're as good as they say you are," Yor says. "I admit, I'm impressed – "
Her weapon streaks through the air in a golden blur and slices into the smoke pellet he was about to smash to the ground with pinpoint accuracy, embedding it to the floor. Loid stares at it in horror.
Ah. That isn't good.
Before he can attempt anything else, Yor unleashes several rapid strikes at various pressure points. His arms fall limply to his side, the nerves deadened.
"Nice try," Yor says quietly, "but I'm afraid this is the end for you."
Then she whirls around and delivers a powerful spinning kick to his jaw.
Immediately, his entire head region erupts in pure agony and his vision begins growing dim. And, as if to add insult to injury, he felt the sheer force of the kick send the wig flying off his head and tear the facial latex right off his face.
Well. There goes his cover identity.
The last thing he hears before the world becomes black is Yor's sudden shocked gasp.
Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/14087235/1/Secrets-Unraveled