II Gallery II Tag List Application II Symbol Guide II
Summary: Who watches the watcher?
WARNINGS: The usual Espionage stuff, Implied substance abuse
A/N: Sorry for the wait, y'all! I'm going away for the holidays soon so it might be a lil bit before I can publish another section of FOF again but I do have some more Hallmark AU content coming your way in the meantime! 💖
Contemporary: September 20th, 1944. Oosterbeek, Netherlands.
The first time Alix saw the man wearing glasses, she didn’t think much of him. He had entered the café a few minutes after her and sat a few tables back, casually spreading the day’s newspaper out onto the small, round table in front of him.
The freshly-cleaned windows were too foggy to see properly so with a huff, Alix subtly shifted in her seat and retrieved her makeup compact from her purse.
Pretending to inspect her eyeliner, she was just able to glimpse the pattern of his tweed suit jacket a few seats behind her and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw him watching her.
But she must have been mistaken because when she checked again, he was summoning a waiter to inquire about something off the menu like any other patron.
Once is normal, she reminded herself, looking out the window as she waited for her target to pass by. It's fine.
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The second time Alix saw him was later that day, in Prince of Orange Park, while she was following her mark.
A slight autumn breeze rustled through the brightly-colored foliage with a gentle crunch and crackle, reminding her of better days at a home so far away that sometimes, she could scarcely believe it had ever existed at all.
If only Gio could be here, she thought sadly as she admired the orange glow of the falling leaves. He would've loved this.
Her talented brother's favorite escape-- besides the cinema-- had been his art. He would spend hours wandering their vast backyard, scouring the landscape for the perfect place to set up his easel and pastels or paints.
Alix's chest ached at the memory now.
She would've given anything to receive another letter from him, the stationary mottled with colorful smudges, the evidence of his latest creation.
"You'd better be saving these, passerotta," Gio had joked after Alix had commented on the waxy staining on his latest letter. "They're Martinelli originals and they're already signed!"
Passerotta.
Her heart sank.
Little Sparrow, Gio's nickname for her since they were children due to her black eyes, playful antics, and small stature.
Oh the irony.
Her brother's passerotta was long gone, she thought sadly. The OSS Sparrow Program had ensured that.
Now only the killer in her remained.
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At least everything was going according to plan. Lieutenant Kruger had exited his meeting with some collaborators exactly on schedule– at least that intel was good– and Alix knew he would need to cross the park on his way to receive his orders from his superiors.
For a supposedly sick man, the gaunt SS officer was speeding along at an incredible pace and from the little she had seen of his face in person compared to the dozens of recon photographs she had studied, Alix felt fortunate to have recognized Kruger at all because the SS officer in front of her looked markedly different from the one in the dossiers the OSS had compiled.
Despite being only 23, the Lieutenant looked decades older. He appeared almost breakably thin with a grayish pallor and sunken, dead eyes that gave him the appearance of a drowned corpse more than a living person. His cheekbones jutted out like the jagged edges of a cliffside and Alix could see open sores trickling blood down the hollows of his cheeks.
The thick gray material of his SS uniform hung off his rail-thin frame like an empty potato sack and despite the frigid autumn weather, there was a fine mist of sweat coating his forehead.
With a fashion magazine casually tucked under her arm, the spy trailed soundlessly behind him, always making sure to keep at least 10 or so paces between her and her target.
Conducting surveillance was difficult without contacts keeping her updated but it was still possible.
Except something was different.
Alix couldn't put her finger on what exactly but something was wrong. She could feel it in her gut.
The young spy had almost made her approach several times but something kept holding her back like an invisible hand on her shoulder, making her hesitate and reevaluate.
Her every muscle on-edge, Alix flexed her fingers at her side in a desperate bid to loosen up the tension but the anxiety swirling in her stomach just wouldn't leave.
The park in Oosterbeek wasn't nearly as crowded as Eindhoven had been but still, there was something almost eerie about the way the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end.
Everywhere she went, she felt eyes on her, following her, but when she would look, no one was there. Alix knew she was probably just being paranoid because of what had happened with Jean-Pierre selling one of her identities to the Gestapo but nonetheless, she still couldn't shake the sick feeling that she was being watched.
As Kruger cut through the grass, his limbs practically quivering with suppressed energy like a man electrocuted, Alix continued on the sidewalk to avoid arousing suspicion.
The young agent allowed her eyes to casually roam the scene, taking in the earthy scent of the grass and the passing smoke of distant explosions which somehow didn't damper the nearby giggles of schoolchildren at play.
A little girl with dirt-streaked cheeks and flame-bright hair was wielding a stick like a blade, apparently holding her own in a dramatic swordfight with an older boy who appeared to be her brother.
Alix couldn't help but smile as she passed them by.
She was almost out of the park completely when she spotted the man in the glasses again, this time loitering by one of the columns that marked the exit as he took casual puffs from his pipe.
Alix felt her blood run cold the moment he locked eyes with her and she abruptly switched directions, abandoning her target for the moment. Self-preservation came first and the emptiness…the ice in the man's expression felt dangerously like a punch to the stomach.
The tweed jacket he'd worn earlier was gone, replaced instead by a coat far too heavy for even the most blustery Fall day, which made Alix even more nervous. It completely obscured his body shape, making it impossible to tell if he was carrying a weapon.
First trick of the trade.
The agent could practically hear Nixon's languid baritone in her head.
Twice is suspicious, kid. Get the hell out of there.
With one last glance over to Lieutenant Kruger's back as he disappeared around the corner, the OSS agent let out an irritated huff and quickened her already brisk pace in the opposite direction.
Her target would have to wait.
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The third time Alix saw the bespectacled man was from inside the bookshop just across the street Hendriksen Hotel, which was apparently serving as an impromptu SS headquarters. The stranger was wearing his tweed jacket again and standing on one of the hotel's many balconies above, notebook in hand, and Alix tried to slow her racing heart as she pretended to browse the shelves.
Angling herself slightly and squinting against the streaming sunlight, Alix tried desperately to make out any distinctive features but there were none. He was an ordinary-looking man in his mid-thirties with dark, straight hair, thick glasses, and an aura she couldn't place but that seemed to scream at her from the depths of her mind, making Alix feel violently ill.
The young agent didn't even have to look up to know he was watching her; she could feel those empty eyes boring into her even through the glass window of the bookshop she was lingering inside.
But she had a mission to complete; she couldn't hold off any longer.
Still, even as she idly perused the first book she'd grabbed, the feeling of the bespectacled man's soulless eyes staring her down never left.
Even when she looked up and the man was gone, the merciless waves of nausea signaling his presence just wouldn't leave her.
He had been scribbling into a notepad, she remembered, and five words from the Evasion & Counterespionage section of her training began to reverberate over and over again in her mind like gunshots as she waited for her target to leave the hotel across the street:
Loqi Tummelt, Cor Leonis, Monica Elshett. Mentions of the Chocobros and Caligo Ulldor
Rating: General
Word Count: 1656
Warnings: Disguises, mentions the Fall of Insomnia, mentions of the fight at Norduscaen Garrison, vague spy network, vague spy codes and code names. Picking lines directly from the game
Summary : Loqi is a spy for Lucis under Cor Leonis. Before the Treaty, Cor was already in trouble with the King. Now that Insomnia has fallen and Niffleheim side of the network is slowly and quietly being weeded out, Loqi has decisions to make. Thankfully, he didn’t need to wait long for answers.
AO3 Link : Business as usual
Loqi was sweaty and hot under all the hunter’s coverall that he managed to snag at the Prairie’s Outpost. He prayed to all the Six that the black hair dye or whatever he was wearing won’t get worn down with his sweat as he busied himself with a sword. He needed a temporary dye since he is now being posted beyond Niff territory. Had it been Gralea, all he had to do was style his hair differently and maybe some contact lenses.
Cor was supposed to meet him up at the Prairie Outpost but he hasn’t appeared yet.
He sighed to himself at the thought of the day being wasted but it’s a common enough not to cause him worry. Just annoyed.
“Sure is melting hot, out here.” A woman came. She was in full hunter’s garb as well.
Pausing in his blade sharpening, he looked up to the one who uttered it. That was the code. “With all the sun, can’t expect it to be freezing, Felicia.” He responded with a relieved smile. It wasn’t Cor but it was one of Cor’s subordinates, Monica Elshett.
Felicia nodded in response before settling beside him. She unsheathed her sword and set it before her, signaling for Loqi to continue what he was doing.
Rummaging through her pockets, she lets out a grouse. “You have an extra whetstone on ya, Al?” She asked. “I think I lost mine.”
Loqi gave her a knowing smile the whole time as he shook his head. He took a small box and gave it to her. “What’s big bro doing?” He asked as he watched Felicia fussed with the box and with a sleight of hands changed it with a proper box of a whetstone.
Felicia sighed. “Dad said told him to do some business out of town. Big bro didn’t want to budge so he’s trying to deal with dad and have someone else go for the business trip.” She explained, her hand barely moved as she explained. “It’s just that…” She began, trying word her thoughts properly. “Dad is pretty old, Al.” She said in a worried tone but the look on her face was more scrutinizing than worried.
It was Loqi’s turn to sigh. Long story short. Cor is on the verge of insubordination. Not that it’s the first time but as ‘Felicia’ said, the King is pretty old. And old people tend to not like it when their orders aren’t obeyed. Since it’s the King and not anyone else, Loqi smelt trouble.
“So, is big bro in trouble?” He asked frankly.
Felicia shook her head as she returned to whetting her blade. “Don’t know. Haven’t heard from him ever since. The Treaty is going to start this week. Just hope big bro is not going to get into too much trouble with everything’s that going on.” She said softly.
Loqi couldn’t agree with her more. If anything happens to Cor, he’s going to be in a pinch. Being a Brigadier General wasn’t easy and trying to escape is going to be a mess, if he survives it.
“Anyway.” Loqi began. “How’s the children?” He asked with a straight face. Knowing Monica, she had cats. Loqi never seen them but Monica had told enough of them to know how they were doing.
Monica or ‘Felicia’, snickered. “As rambunctious as ever. Broke a few of my plates just the other day.” She said. The two ended up talking about the cats for a while. Mission completed. Just to kill time until they could leave without suspicion. Being so near to a garrison and wary hunters had their difficulties. If the Niffs didn’t get them, the Hunters might just give them away accidentally.
Before their time was up, Felicia got a call. “Felicia.” She said curtly as she stopped fussing over her sword. “Uh, yes. Right at the old ruined house.” She informed whoever it is. “Ok. See ya.” She said as she ended her call.
“The client’s coming.” She said. The cold military discipline leaking into her voice before she cleared her throat and recomposed herself as a lighthearted Felicia. “No need to look like you’ve seen a ghost, Al.” She quipped.
Loqi shrugged. He paused in thought. “Do you think Big Bro got into trouble?”
“Don’t know, Al.” She answered as she turned to pack her stuff. “But my transport is just a short ride from here.” Code for – Cor is coming over as a Client. Act accordingly.
Al or Loqi, went about to pack his stuff, too.
They barely had gotten to their feet when a truck pulled towards their place. In it was Cor, waving at them.
“Hey, Felicia, Al.” He regarded with a nod. The two gave a nod back and Felicia got into the truck. “Melting hot here, huh?” He said as he gave Loqi a onceover.
Loqi replied with a tight smile. “If it’s freezing cold, it’ll be the end of the world.”
Cor gave a small smile at that. “Anyways, borrow Felicia here for a job. If I need more people, I might need to call you in, too.”
“Sure. Just make sure, you take care of her.” Loqi answered back amicably.
With that, they parted ways.
Almost three weeks passed since then.
Insomnia fell, the network collapsed and names were being brought up within the ranks and silently taken care off. Caligo made sure of that.
And Loqi, now without any form of communication, went after the only Lucian he knew that was on Niffleheim’s radar, other than the Prince. The very Lucian that his accolades in warfare were more or less based on. He went to confirm Cor Leonis’s status. Two birds with one stone, really. This way, he can decide whether to continue his work or get rid of everything.
He received word that the Prince was to escape via the Norduscaen Garrison. Even as he got on his ship towards the said drop site, he started to feel lost. Would he be forced to kill off the Prince? Something in him was screaming to back off and stop. But he was a soldier. He had his orders. He…could only pray he was doing the right thing.
The garrison came into view along with a slew of dissipating MTs. With them, he saw the iconic black coloured garb donned by the Crownsguard. Taking point was the Prince and Cor.
He was wildly relieved at that sight alone. Cor was alive! The Prince would be safe in his care, too. That feeling dimmed considerably.
He hovered over the opened courtyard. “Stay right where you are.” He declared imperiously from his ship. “Well, well. If it isn’t Cor the Immortal. So you’ve survived the Citadel.” He said before turning to man his Magitek Armour.
“But you won’t survive what I have in store for you. It’s past time your legend came to an end.” He declared grimly, knowing people from Niffleheim, especially, Caligo is listening through the comms.
The fight was more grueling than he thought and the ejection system was unpleasant despite saving his life.
Seeing off the prince, Cor dismissed Monica and returned to ‘watching the Niffs.’
Once he heard a truck and a car passed, he finally cracked opened the charred cockpit.
He was surprised to see Cor nearby, looking for him from the looks of things.
“Thank the Six, you’re still alive.” Cor said in relief with a smirk of satisfaction.
Loqi only managed a huff as he got himself out with Cor’s help.
Thankfully, the worse injury on him was a split lip. His armour seriously helped.
As the two recovered from the effort on the floor next to it, Cor held out a Potion for him.
He refused it. “It’ll get suspicious if I escape literally unscathed.” He explained.
Cor nodded in understanding. “How goes for you since the fall?” He asked as he made it dissipate into the ether.
“Unnerving to say the least. There was a leak in the network. Caligo has been on the hunt ever since.” Loqi explained. “Did not help that there was only static on my communicator.”
Cor’s lips pulled into a tight grimace. “At the very least, we’re confident that the leak is taken cared off with the fall.” He said cryptically.
“Well, for the time being, there won’t be much activities. If anything, I think I’ll be the only one going beyond enemy lines to meet up with you.” He said as he scratched his head. “Other than the Prince and his retinue, of course.”
Loqi raised his eyebrows at that. “Ah, the chamberlain is there too?”
“Yes, indeed.” He answered. “He was the one with the glasses.” He added, gesturing two fingers over his eyes.
“Well, then. The Prince is in good hands.” He said in an impressed tone. “A member of a network is with him after all.”
“Still, one must be cautious in times like these.” He said with a tired huff.
Loqi only chuckled in response.
“Well, then.” Cor said as he got to his feet. “It’s best we get moving.”
Loqi got to his feet as well. “As always, it was an honour to fight you.” He said as he stood straight and held out a hand, a proud look present on his face.
Cor mirrored him and shook his hand with a tight smile. “Likewise. Glad to still have you on board with us.”
At that Loqi lets out a mirthless cackle. “Careful there. You assume too quickly.” He warned. A gentle reminder that this could all end suddenly.
Cor’s smile turned into a knowing smirk. “If I was wrong, we won’t be standing here.” He said as he passed. “See you when I see you.” He said with a wave, not even looking back if it’s returned.
Loqi merely shook his head before getting his emergency beacon. When the ship came, it was already dark and none of the Lucians were in sight.
There’s nothing like being handed official government documents from the National Archives to drive a cover concept. Our endpapers document the last known movements of one of Britains most well-kept secrets.
Donald Maclean, a former British Diplomat and head of the American Dept in the Foreign Office, was one of the Cambridge Five - a spy ring acting for the Soviet Union. ‘Orphan’ tells the story of his astonishing double life – from austere childhood to Cambridge Graduate to his eventual defection in 1951.
A star diplomat with a tendancy for wild binges, Maclean was the perfect spy, leaking huge amounts of top-secret data to the Russians and heightening the tensions of the Cold war.
The front cover is from a portrait by Lettice Ramsey and Helen Muspratt who photographed many of Cambridge’s leading pre-war intellects. Thanks to Peter Lofts who now owns and runs the Ramsey and Muspratt archive.
Had a great time over the weekend at the @spyscape museum in NYC, and I must say this is not your typical average museum. Sure you take a deep dive into the world of espionage with a variety of interesting displays but you also actively engage in the world of espionage. You also get learn about different techniques necessary for different spy roles and you test your espionage abilities in addition to taking a wide range of physical and mental aptitude tests. At the end besides leaving with a substantial knowledge of the history of espionage and the skills involved you also receive a report regarding what type of roles you would be most suited for which in my own case, I'm qualified to be a #Spycatcher... whatever that is😎 It was an extremely fun and enlightening museum. The James Bond exhibition was awesome most especially if you're a James Bond fan at heart. It was my first time seeing the iconic Aston Martin DB5 live along with all its hidden gadgets as designed by the multiple Academy Award winning Production Designer - Ken Adams. All in all, it was a good diversion from my regular weekend routine since the last 7 months and @spyscape is definitely one of the top five museums I'll always recommend to any of my NY friends (guest and residents) and most especially if you're an ardent James Bond @007 fan! What James Bond film is your favorite? Leave Comments Below👇🏽💎 (at New York, N Y) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEkj3pDM-vc/?igshid=qoc227ad9rus
Insane night Thursday watching, Guana Batz, Koffin Kats, Gamblers Mark and The Goddam Gallows in Santa Ana. Pictures will be up sooner or later. Here's one from the end of the night. #GuanaBatz #KoffinKats #GamblersMark #TheGoddamGallows #Psychobilly #Rockabilly #Concer #SantaAna #OrangeCounty #PileDriverBoogie #KingRat #SpyCatcher #PipHancox #StuartOsbourne #JohnnyBowler (at The Observatory Orange County)
Have you read this fascinating book? SPYCATCHER by Peter Wright Am browsing through it one more time #book #books #spycatcher #espionage #reading #literature (at Rohan Tarang)
On and off project by UK musician/producer Steve Sears, it feels like Spycatcher went largely overlooked by the public and media, which is a real shame, because this album, and the one before it, Honesty, are brilliant. Sitting somewhere between emo and pop rock, this album is 30 minutes of super catchy and hook laden songs that you’ll find yourself humming for weeks. The whole tone of this album is somehow incredibly english, with song titles like ‘You Are Just A Bit Rubbish’, and lyrics like “There’s still just enough time for you to nominate me, for dickhead of the year”. It’s also one of the most honest and introspective things you’ll have heard in a while. And that’s one of the things that makes this album so great, there’s nothing contrived about this, and it doesn’t sound like there’s any ulterior motive for making this music. It sounds like a passion project, which is exactly what music should be. They might be back one day, and if they are, make sure you check out a tour date, because they’re excellent live as well.
T.R.
