More than just his training, Zack Adder discovered something new.

  Having friends was pretty nice.

  Not just colleagues he was, ultimately, betraying to another organization.

  Not just acquaintances cultivated for alibis.

  Zack—or rather, Jack, for the Director still suspected (correctly) that Zack wasn’t being totally honest about his circumstances—was becoming friends with the theater troupe.

  And unlike in his previous life, when he’d kept everyone at arm’s distance, he opened up.

  Perhaps it had something to do with sleeping on a bench backstage for a week and a fortnight.

  It had been Vlad who had put an end to that, once Zack had acquired the [Sew] skill and largely worked through Millie's to-do list of costume repairs.

  “Jack, it has been two weeks since you won the Director’s approval and joined our troupe,” he declared one morning before rehearsals. “I shan’t leave you to sleep on a bench backstage any longer!”

  Millie nodded vehemently, her mouth full of sandwich, and Roxy agreed verbally while applying mascara. “Yeah, that can’t be good for your back.”

  “It’s fine, really,” Zack protested, but Ronaldo turned to face him directly, half-dressed in his Act 1 costume.

  “Jack, have you even stepped foot outside this theater since you came here?”

  Sandra gave him a stern look. But it was Fyodor who, stripped down to his underclothes, sat directly next to Zack on his sleeping bench and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  “Jack, who’s after you? It’s been weeks. If you owe someone money, you can’t avoid that by hiding out forever. I’m sure we can help you work out a repayment plan, we—”

  Zack interrupted. “I don’t owe anybody money. I’m fine, really.”

  “So there would be no problem with moving in with me, at least until you got your own place, yes?” Vlad asked.

  The villainous-looking Vlad was incongruently one of the kindest men Zack had ever met. He and Millie were like the mother hens of the troupe.

  Zack gave it some serious thought. And, after a dozen or so seconds, he sighed.

  “Yeah, this bench really is giving me back pain…” he said, and the actors around him universally grinned.

  “Good. I have a spare room, and I will arrange to have some bedding delivered. Ah ah ah,” he wagged a finger, interrupting Zack’s interruption. “Do not worry about repayment or money. I wouldn’t think of asking such a thing of a friend.”

  Friend.

  Not something a secret agent could have.

  Not something Zack could have had as a child, not with his parents the way they were.

  It was… making him disturbingly emotional.

  He tamped it down.

  “Thanks, Vlad,” he said, smiling.

  “You are most welcome, Jack.”

  “Millie.” Zack turned to the costume design expert. “Can you help me—”

  “Of course!” She didn’t even let him finish his request. “I was thinking if we dyed your hair a dark brown and darkened your skin tone…”

  And so the secret agent was disguised and that night he stepped foot outside the theater for the first time in three weeks.

  It was after midnight, and the streets were dark. Vlad lived in the top floor of a nearby apartment building, though it was only three stories tall. The walls were dark oak, the floor was covered with a deep, dark purple rug, and the ceiling was exposed rafters and the underside of the roof, angled enough to slough off some snow and rain, but not so steep as to suggest Fortinium regularly experienced heavy winters.

  “It gets fairly warm in the summertime,” Vlad warned him, “but since I work afternoons and evenings it’s not too bad.”

  “Is this pretty big for an apartment? Uh, in this city?” Zack asked, looking around.

  Vlad winked. “I’m very good with my money.”

  Zack was set up in a small bedroom, which was totally bare save for the recently delivered and yet to be unpacked bedding, with the large bathroom between his room and Vlad’s.

  “Vlad, is that a coffin?”

  An oversized coffin, lid propped open, revealed a double-sized twin mattress neatly made up with dark crimson sheets.

  “Girls like it,” the vampire-like man said simply, before showing Zack around the rest of the apartment’s amenities.

  The next morning, Zack awoke to a knock on the door.

  “Jack, I’m heading out.”

  Zack scrambled to get out of bed. “I’m coming!”

  He rushed to open the door and found Vlad chuckling ominously.

  “There’s no rush. I left the spare key on the counter for you. Come and go as you wish, my friend.”

  Even so, the first morning in the late morning bright sunlight, they walked together. Vlad carried a black parasol to shield his pale skin from the sun’s rays, and Zack…

  Walked exposed.

  And his disguise held.

  People walked up and down the city streets, wearing worn and clearly mended clothes, but generally clean. The streets, too, were clean and in good repair. Storefronts were attractively designed and decorated, and business seemed to be bustling.

  Still, uninterested in lingering, Zack quickly made his way to the Rose Theater with Vlad.

  They made it inside, and, his guard down, Zack let out a sigh of relief.

  Then the hammer dropped.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Vlad, Jack, you’re finally here! Hurry up, the Director’s got something to say!”

  They hurried in and joined the rest of the troupe. The actors, the extras, the stagehands, everyone was gathered in the lower, standing-room-only gallery to look up at the stage where the Director was standing…

  Arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, appearing deep in thought.

  Uh oh.

  “We’re all here now, Director,” Sandra said, and his eyes opened.

  “First of all,” he began, wasting no time, “I’m extending the showings of Lives and Love Lost.”

  A few of the extras started to murmur, until judiciously applied elbows restored the silence.

  “Rehearsals for Saintess Serena are on hold for now. Millie, you can stop working on the costumes. Jim, stop working on the set designs. I’ll let everyone know when work can resume. Roxy, I need you to… Oh, right. Millie, then. Can you go visit St. Bella’s and have them make and put up more posters?”

  Zack looked and saw Millie frowning. “By myself…?”

  “Jack!”

  Zack snapped to attention and found the Director’s harsh gaze falling upon him.

  “Escort Millie there and back.”

  “Yes, Director,” he responded without hesitation.

  The Director looked out over the assembled theater troupe and nodded. “Alright, prep for rehearsals! Ronaldo, come with me.”

  The Director and Ronaldo walked back to the Director’s office and the assembled crowd burst into conversation.

  “Aww, that’s too bad, Jack.”

  Emily, the concessionaire, had approached his back through the crowd.

  “You’re not gonna be able to audition, now…”

  Zack turned and shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t done training anyway.”

  They chatted for a bit longer, and then Millie approached, the rest of the crowd bleeding away to prepare for the usual rehearsals. Millie was carrying a rolled up poster.

  “Jack,” she looked at him seriously. “How good are you in a fight?”

  He frowned. Emily took that opportunity to leave. “About average, I’d say.”

  Millie looked him up and down. “Well, come backstage and I’ll do your makeup. Maybe a scar would make you look tougher…”

  And sure enough, a messy hairstyle and a false scar and some expression coaching to give him a fierce scowl later…

  *ding!* The skill [Intimidate] has been acquired!

  “Eep! Don’t hurt meee~” Roxy cried when he turned his gaze in her direction.

  “Oh, that came out better than I expected!” Millie said.

  Roxy stopped hamming it up. “It’s fine, Millie! Nobody’s gonna mess with you on the way to and from St. Bella’s.”

  “Easy for you to say, Roxy.”

  “Is St. Bella’s in a bad part of town?” Zack asked.

  Roxy rolled her eyes.

  “It’s in Cartelone Family territory, but it’s fine. The Cartelones don’t mess with people for no reason.”

  Millie frowned at the other woman.

  Roxy continued.

  “If they do ask what you’re doing, just tell them you’re on Rose Theater business. They know about our arrangement with St. Bella’s.”

  “And that is…?”

  Millie answered. “St. Bella’s is an orphanage, down on the east side of the city. They make copies of our posters and put them up around town for us.” She pouted. “I hate carrying money around that side of the city…”

  “I’ll carry it, then,” Zack offered.

  “Would you? Thanks, Jack,” Millie said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  There were a few tricks to concealing valuables on one’s person, out of reach of pickpockets, but the main thing was remaining vigilant.

  “Let’s get moving, then. I need to get back in time for the matinee.”

  Millie covered her hair with a scarf, and wearing a long sleeved blouse with a long patterned skirt, they departed the theater. She led the way, far better acquainted with the city’s layout than Zack, while he kept his eyes peeled.

  The first time he saw a guard—obviously it was a guard from the armor and spear and the way he was standing on a corner—looking around, Zack felt his pulse quicken before he got control of himself.

  [Calm Down].

  He ensured he wasn’t looking too intimidating, as well, and they passed without incident. It was a walk of some thirty minutes through the city, past a large market district and rows and rows of townhouses and apartment buildings, until they reached a more run-down area. Litter started appearing alongside the roads, dirty and torn curtains fluttered out of open windows, and unwashed young men and children loitered about, eyeing the pair.

  Zack, now seeing that there were no guards nearby, glared intimidatingly at one such young man who had started to get up, and the layabout decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. He slinked off down an alley, out of sight.

  Next to him, Millie breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thanks again for coming, Jack.”

  “Anytime, Millie.”

  Mice and rats scurried about where the alleys met the street, and eventually they arrived at a small plaza with a forlorn, half-dead tree in the center. At the far end was an orphanage.

  St. Bella’s.

  Surrounding it was a tall iron fence, topped with sharpened finials, and a damaged gate hanging crooked on hinges that looked about to fall apart. In the fenced off yard, some half-dozen young children, ranging from a toddler to a girl perhaps ten or eleven years old, ran around playing under the watchful eye of what could only be a nun.

  Unlike the grey-robed [Priest]s of the castle, and [Priestess] Maria in her white robes with blue trim, the nun watching the children was wearing a black robe and white cloth head-wrapping, revealing only her face. Despite the signs of age on her face, she had a kind expression, as though she were utterly content with her life and everything that was going on.

  She only looked up at Millie and Jack when they approached the gate.

  “Hello, you two. Can I help you?”

  She made no move to stand up from her seat.

  “We’re from the Rose Theater,” Millie said. “We’re extending the run for Lives and Love Lost, so we need to put up some more posters.”

  “Where’s Roxy?” the nun asked.

  “Sister Roxy!” the eldest girl cried, scooping up the toddler and running over to the nun.

  “Sister Roxy!”

  “Sister Roxy!”

  The other kids joined in and surrounded the nun.

  “Roxy couldn’t make it today, so the Director sent us,” Millie explained, disappointing the children.

  “Aww…”

  The nun turned to look at Zack. “And you are?”

  “Jack,” he answered.

  “He joined the troupe three weeks ago,” Millie added.

  Another child, a boy perhaps six or seven years old, came running over from around the side of the building. “Look, Sister Paula, look what Mittens brought me!”

  In his hand he held a dead mouse.

  The nun—Sister Paula—sighed. “Put that down over there, Joey, and go wash your hands.”

  “Okay!” He ran off again, into the building, smiling happily after dropping the dead rodent next to the door.

  “Eww,” Millie groaned under her breath.

  Sister Paula stood up.

  “Alright, come on inside then.”

  She came over and unlocked the gate, letting them step inside before she locked it again.

  “We, uh, we brought a donation from the Director, too,” Millie added.

  The nun smiled.

  “Thank you. Be sure to let Will know we’re grateful for his patronage.”

  “And tell Roxy we said hi!”

  “Tell her we miss her!”

  “And tell little Roxy we all say hi and we’re praying for her,” Sister Paula added.

  “We wi—”

  A scream rang out from inside the orphanage.

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