An older man with white in his gray hair, sat down in a soft, pine green velvet chair. Following after him was a younger boy, perhaps around his mid-teens, he sat down on the off-white armchair. They were in the older man’s study, books with leather covers were surrounding them. Classical pieces of literature from the world’s best authors, supposedly, of course these aren’t what most people like these days. Most are into the newly developed computer systems and this new ‘internet’ that only exists on it. 

“So…What is it that you wanted to talk about, Gramp Al?” The younger boy said as he stretched out against the back of the armchair. 

“Ash, I heard from your mother that you want to go into the espionage field. Is she right?” The older man’s voice sounded out of breath. 

“Yeah! That’s right. I think spies are cool and you were a spy too and since everyone tells me to work in a career that I find interesting, then…Why not spy work?”

“You can not decide your future profession just because you find it interesting, my boy. You must have the skills necessary to perform your tasks.” His voice audibly grew agitated.

“Don’t worry Gramps! I’m on the football team! I think I got the skills to do it! Err…the physical skills at least!”

To say that he didn’t have some physical skills would be a lie. He was a “star player”, to his coach at least, he’d scored the two past season’s majority scores after all. This means that he’s fit, but not fit enough to do that type of work.  Plus, that type of profession doesn’t just involve physical skills, but also mental and emotional skills. You got to solve codes, puzzles, abandon any affiliations from family and friends, abandon any and all sense of public identity so you don’t get caught. Most importantly, you have to leave behind any personal feelings for your work to go smoothly. They have to be ready for everything and anything. 

“Espionage work requires more than just physical skills, Ash”

“Say, gramps. If you were good enough to qualify as a spy then why’d you stop?”

“...That is a long story. A story that remains in my mind even today.” His voice sounded ragged as he slowly fidgeted with his thumbs. A sense of lamentation could be captured if one listened close enough.

“Go on then.”

“Go…On?” The older man was puzzled, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah! Tell me the story. If it made you quit then it’s gotta be something extreme, no?”

“Extreme, that it was. I suppose I could tell you. Only if you don’t tell your mother, yes?” The older man reached to pull out one of the drawers of the desk, reached into the far back until he found it. A picture frame with two younger men, likely in their late-teens, being displayed. On the left a boy with dark hair that was dressed in a light-coloured coat that reached his knees with a plain white undershirt and black trousers. The other boy on the right had a lighter skin tone with, presumably, blond hair that was dressed in an off-white knitted sweater and black trousers as well. His green eyes reflected the picture frame .

“Promise! I won’t tell mom a thing. Oh! And be as detailed as you can be!” The younger boy’s eyes lit up as he repositioned himself in the armchair. 

• • •

1924, April 16th

 Olympia, Washington 

“...56, 57, 58” 

“Hey! Bessler! That woman wants to talk to you! And his face was looking quite grim” A voice rang out as he entered the training room, interrupting Bussler’s push-ups. The look on his face was one of urgency.

“Eh? Who?” A man in his mid-30’s with black hair and green eyes looked up from the ground.

“You know! That man, our superior.”

“Oh. Where is she at? Her office or the conference hall?” Bessler stood up and wiped off the sweat from his forehead while reaching for his change of clothes. 

“The conference hall I think. At least that's the last place I saw her at. You best hurry along now.” They walked towards the dressing room and he turned so his back was leaning on the blue metal  locker beside Bessler.

“All right, I understand. Thank you, Milton. You best get along now if you got work to do. Surely you have got assignments of your own?”

“‘Course I do. Just methodical decryptions on an antique one of the agents found while out on the field.” Milton folded his arms around his chest.

“Then go advance with it. For all you know it could be a relique that contains the secrets of the universe.” Bessler said with a tone of dry humor as walked out into the hall.  “Right…Well, good luck. That woman looked peculiarly grim today. Hope you don’t get disposed of!” Milton shouted from back inside the dressing room while the door closed behind Bessler.

The reason he was being called by his superior most likely was not because he was going to be fired. His superior in all likelihood just wanted to assign him to a new case. In fact he had been in the training room because he was going to ask to be assigned to one on the field as it had been a while since he had gone out. He walked through several long halls with terrazzo flooring and cream white walls lined by crown molding at the bottoms. When he finally arrived at the conference room, he knocked three times and announced his presence before entering.

“I am Agent Albert Bessler. I am looking for my superior Double Agent Violet. May I enter?”

“You may enter.” A somber voice sounded from beyond the door.

As Bessler entered the conference hall he was met with sharp black eyes from a woman in her mid-forties. She had obviously been in this profession for quite a time and it showed in the amount of white hairs already growing from her hair. She motioned for him to have a seat in one of black leather chairs near the chalkboard. He complied and took a look around one of the many conference rooms that he had been inside of for the past decade. They were all similar, cream-coloured walls, gray flooring, black leather chairs, high ceilings, and a chalkboard in the back.

“Bessler.” She began

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I am going to be very straightforward with the reason that you are here. I have received an order from the Deputy Director to investigate a possible foreign agent from one of our rival countries and have been told to question them. I have decided to pass this case onto you.”

“I understand.” He nodded his head in agreement.

“Good. Fortunately we have received some information regarding his current activities. One of the informers on the field reported hearing that he is planning a get together for some socialites and prominent people in his New York manor. You will infiltrate the manor and silently capture him.” She walked around the table to bring the case files over to him.

“Fine by me. Say D.A. Violet may I inquire the name of the target? We’ve been talking about him for a while, but you haven’t told me his name.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned to face her.

“Right.” She paused as she scanned the files for the name. “His name is Raphael Moreau, at least that is the name that he uses. He has blond hair, brown eyes, a fair complexion and has a muscular athletic figure.” She read off of the top file before giving it to Bessler. 

Bessler first took a look at the image of the man in the top right corner. Something went off in his mind when he saw it. 

In his early teens he had met a boy from abroad, he could never remember what country he was from though. At the time Bessler was quite the solemn child. Just a few days shy of his fourteenth birthday, both his parents had been taken from him in a buggy accident. He was left with his aunt from his mothers side, who always placed him to the side. He had gone on a school trip to a field when he first met Raphael. Bessler thought he was a strange boy the first moment that he had exchanged words with him. The memory of the words they exchanged eventually faded out, but his face didn’t. Raphael was older by a few years than him, but seemed more joyous than he did, at least that's what the smile that always decorated his face said. The second time they had met was only a few days after that, when Bessler’s aunt had told him to go buy groceries. Raphael noticed Bessler and waved him over to where he was sitting on the curb. Like the last encounter the memory of their conversation faded out, but the smile still remained a prominent memory. They became friends after a few more encounters around town and lifted Bessler’s spirits from the dark murky water that they were in. He learned that Raphael was a European student from abroad and that his time in America would soon end. Bessler forgot what his reaction was after finding out that the only joyous light in his murky waters was leaving him. Maybe lamentation? Sorrow? Anger? No reaction at all? The only trace of their friendship left was a commemorative photo of the two standing in front of a harbor.

“All right. When is this party supposed to be held?”

“April twenty third. It’s his supposed birthday that day. It’ll begin in the evening” Violet began to twist the doorknob when she was interrupted by Bessler. 

“What will you be asking him when I bring him in?” He stood on his legs and turned to face her.

“Oh. Quite confident are we? You shouldn’t worry about what we are going to ask him. Leave that to your superiors.” She sounded annoyed, it was the first time he heard any type of emotion from her voice. With saying that she left, closing the door behind her. 

Bessler’s mind was, surprisingly, calm. He wondered if Rapheal would even recognize him. If he really was the same Rapheal that he knew in his youth. He knew what kinds of work that he would be partaking in when he prepared himself for the job. He knew that there was a low probability, so low that it was close to zero, that it would involve people that he knew, so he assumed that it would never happen, until now. He walked out of the room with the same ready-to-work demeanor that he entered the room with. Back straight, head facing forward, and a stern look on his face.

• • •

April 22nd, 1924 

Upper East Side of New York

A large green yard with bushes trimmed into top shape, that are obviously taken care of well, decorated the front of a cream-white neo baroque manor and a roof the color of walnut-y brown. This is Raphael Moreau's current home, he’ll be relocated to his new home, a cold cell, in a few days once Bessler is done with him. Truth be told Bessler had no reason to be there since the informers already staked out the place, but he’s always wanted to see the places that he’ll be infiltrating himself.  That was only an excuse he used with his co-workers, he was actually there to spot Raphael. To see if it was the Raphael he thought it was. There was only around a day and a half left until he had to infiltrate the manor. No signs of life were shown so Bessler decided to leave until he saw a man walk out the balcony. 

“Blonde hair, brown eyes and a muscular build. Him. It’s him. The same facial structure and all.” He whispered to himself as he began to creep closer to the balcony. The reality of this situation was beginning to sink into his mind. He has to confront and bring in the person that brought him shone light in his youth. That’s no way to thank someone who helped bring colorful happiness to a boy when he was at a loss with his monochromatic self. Perhaps he shouldn’t have accepted the job, but it’s too late to back out now. 

April 23rd, 1924

Outside the manor

“Hey Raph! How's the business going? Heard the sales quadrupled along with Wall Street! Say, what about us  partnering up? We could hit it big!” A light brown-haired man slung his arm around Rapheal, startling him. 

“Ah! Jim! Maybe, maybe not. Lets converse about this later, hm? I have a paramount guest coming today and I should — no, I have to go greet them!” Raphael pushed Jim’s arm away from him and began to walk towards the imperial staircase in front of him.

“Raph! The entrance…way…” Jim’s voice gradually faded out as Raphael reached the second floor. 

He knocked on a dark-mahogany door like he knew someone was in there. “Albert?” No response. “You’re in there, aren't you? Albert?” He opened the door revealing his library and study room in one. A dim light from a chandelier shining the entirety of the room. He walked towards his desk, but turned around when he heard the click of the door lock. “Albert, there you are. You’re here to bring me in aren’t you?” He swiftly turned around, knocking a vase of Peruvian lilies to the ground.

“So you’re aware? Then I don’t need to be belligerent with you, I hope.” Bessler set down the book he was reading and began walking towards Rapheal.

“Well, how about we negotiate something? Let me be free and I’ll convince His Excellency to leave you out of any future plans he may have.”

“No, I will not yield to any other person.”

“Albert, you’re a percipient person. Surely you know that in a few years there will be a sort of crossfire between our countries. You don’t want to get between it do you? It’s dangerous.” He raised his finger to point it at Bessler’s face.

“Oh, and how do I not know you're not a fraud?”

“Look me in the eyes, Albert. I love you like you’re family to me. You don’t know it, but you also brought joy into my youth.”

“No, I can’t see anything in your empty eyes, let alone the truth.” 

“So cold, Albert. Like you’re akin to the moon.” He walked to the other side of the desk and sat down in a pine green velvet chair. 

“You don’t understand, I can’t let you leave this manor. It’s my job to bring you in. So, please, comply with me.”

“No, you don’t understand Albert. In my home country I’m comparable to the Raphael, Saint Raphael. They say that with me guiding their operations then we’ll be able to flee the ruin brought upon us from the war. I can’t lose them and their spirits.” He stood up and placed his hands on the desk.

“You are considered vermin in this country, Raphael. Vermin is not wanted by anyone, including me, in this country.” He reached out to grab Raphael’s arm, but missed due to his evasion.

It continued like this for a while, knocking down objects from the desk and crashing into bookshelves. A few words were exchanged between the two men. Their bond and friendship from many years ago were akin to non-existent in that moment. No good friendship will last forever, some may turn sour with the taste of betrayal or just gradually fade out. 

After a few dozen minutes, Bessler finally managed to subdue him and brought him into one agency’s cells.

“Good Job, Bessler. Keep up with this efficiency and you’ll move up the ranks” Violet turned to face him after locking the cell.

“I can’t.” He turned to face the ground, his voice grew smaller.

“You can’t? Can’t what?” She raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“I can’t keep up with this efficiency. D.A. Violet. I want to resign.” He said this with a lost look on his face.

“You want to resign? I’m not the person who will decide to let you go Bessler. You already know who to go to.” She looked straight into his eyes and placed her hand on his shoulder. 

“Yes, ma’am. I just thought I should let you know.”

• • •

“That is about all that I can remember.” Grandpa Al stood up and walked over to Ash’s side.

“Gosh, what a tale gramps. One question though.” Ash raised his finger to point to the picture frame on top of the desk.

“A question? Go on.” He sat down on the armchair next to him

“That picture of the two boys, it’s you and Raphael, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it is. The last picture of us that we took in our youth.” A look of nostalgia covered his face.

“What happened to Raphael? You ended the story right when he was locked in a cell.”

“He was questioned, but I do not know what happened to him afterwards. Once I resigned they didn’t provide me with any information of that sort.”

“Oh. Hmm well after listening to your experience, I think I should rethink my decision. I’d rather not have to confront my friends even if there’s a close to zero chance.” 

“Papa! Ash! Dinner’s ready, come downstairs!” A woman’s voice rang from downstairs and footsteps followed.

“Whew, just in time don’t you think, gramps? I’m starving.” He jumped out of the armchair and headed towards the door. Bessler followed after him once he put away the picture.