I have exactly ten minutes to tell you this story, so you'd better listen up. My name is Natalia Sekretny. I'm an agent for Koschei, the secret Russian group dedicated to the eradication of Capitalism. I didn't join on my own. I was brought in by Koschei's greatest asset, the Winter Queen. But enough about me. This is the story of how my best friend and I saved the world. It started in the warehouse on the Rue des Espion in Paris. That night, I woke with my mask off and my shoes removed. A tall boy with spiked blond hair sat beside me in a mildewed armchair. “Feeling alright?” He asked me. I instinctively tried to punch him. A rope held my arms and legs down. The boy smiled sarcastically. “For your own protection. And mine, obviously. You were thrashing like a crazy person.” I closed my eyes and tried to remember what had happened. A rush of water, the drone of helicopter blades, I slipped, hit my head… “Who are you?” “Francis Barton. But for secrecy call me Derek.” “Secrecy? You’re not… an American agent?” “I was.” I tried again to punch him, to no avail. His smile faded. “Listen, Natalia. My codename is Farsight. I’m an archer. I was sent to capture you, but when you fell … well, I wasn’t going to take an innocent girl prisoner. I brought you here.” “I noticed,” I whispered, trying my best to sound unfazed. He smiled. “It’s okay. You can trust me.” I remembered the last time someone had said that to me. I remembered them dragging him away. I remembered seeing him months later in his cell, his eyes bloodshot and grey, the cheeky smile gone from his lips. “No, I can’t. Let me go.” He took a pair of safety scissors out of his back pocket and cut the ropes holding me down. I stood up and turned to leave. “I wouldn’t.” “Why not?” “They’re searching for you. Wanted posters everywhere, SWAT teams patrolling the streets. It’s not gonna be pretty if they find you.” I sighed and sat back down. “I suppose you’ll be turning me over to them?” “You dork. Why in the name of Orcus would I do that?” “Who’s Orcus? Some American deity?” He laughed. “No, he’s from a role playing game.” I didn’t understand, but I nodded anyway. “I have to leave the city some way.” Francis grinned. “I’ve got a plan. My wig tickled the base of my neck, and my sunglasses dug into the bridge of my nose. Francis assured me I looked perfect. He wore a fedora and round glasses “Remember. I’m Derek. You’re Natasha. We’re cousins on vacation to Paris with our sick aunt. Our last name is… actually, I didn’t think of that part.” “Sekretny. That’s my last name.” He looked skeptical. “I’m sure people will recognize you. How ‘bout Secretary?” “What’s that?” “It’s someone who types and takes phone calls and stuff.” I nodded, still unclear. “Let’s mobilize,” Francis said. We opened the double doors to the warehouse yard. On the road across the yard, Two men wore bulletproof suits and carried high-tech machine guns. They were discussing the weather in English. The man on the left turned toward us. “What are you kids doing here?” Francis stepped forward. “Nous sommes venus ici pour trouver notre chat, Monsieur nouilles.” He nodded. “Very well. Continue.” “Merci, monsieur.” We wandered the streets for a while, stopping to pretend to take pictures or look at maps. Eventually we stopped on a road far from the city center, the Rue des Pyramides. I tapped my watch. "Agent 451, for pickup in Pa-" Francis grabbed the watch away from me. "Are you insane?" "If I don't go back, they'll kill me." "That's why we're not going to let you be seen. Touch my watch." I touched his watch, and suddenly we were in another place. Cars rushed past us while pedestrians crowded the sidewalks. Skyscrapers loomed above us, and fast food restaurants lined the road. "New York," Francis announced. "Follow me." We crowded through the masses of people for what must have been an hour before we arrived in front of a huge brick building. "Here we are," Francis said. "APE headquarters." "What?" "A.P.E. It stands for American Protection Enterprise.Come on inside. "How? This is just a wall." He pressed his hand to the brick. It rippled and disappeared, leaving a doorway-sized opening leading into a long, well-lit corridor. Agents in black clothes hurried past us, holding tablet computers or talking on earpieces. Francis grabbed my wig and sunglasses and put them in his backpack. "Come on." He led me down the left side of the corridor, not stopping for anyone's "Hey Farsight!" Finally, we arrived in front of a large black door. A huge man opened it. He had pale skin and wore tiny glasses on his huge, square face. "Come in, Francis. Who's this?" He squinted. "Is it... her?" "Yes sir. The Black Mamba, sir." "She's... smaller than I thought she would be." "I'm only thirteen, sir." "Hmm. He sat back down behind his desk. "You're a little young to execute." "What!" "Still..." "Sir," Francis interrupted. "She has useful insight into Koschei. She can help us."
"I can, sir." "Very well. Perhaps she can be useful in our next mission." "What, sir?" He put his fingertips together, pursing his lips. "The president of Koschei is coming to New York in four hours. We need you to capture him, alive." "Done." Okay, I lied about saving the world. But I needed to get the word out about how Francis saved me. Now that he's dead, no one can appreciate him. Except me. And now, you. The president's plane crashed. Francis and I found his body in the wreckage. It was two years afterward that Francis disappeared. His girlfriend cried all night. I sat with her and watched movies til dawn. Then I visited the warehouse again. The scaffolding was just as I remembered. The air was just as cool as it was the first night we met. I watched the sun rise through the holes in the walls as I remembered him.
