"Trench Coats and Love Notes - Part I" by Glo ´the Bug´ Bowden

            Sheer red rock cliffs rose up as far as the eye could see, dwarfing the woman standing at their base.  She gazed upward, squinting through a pair of dark sunglasses. 

            “We’ll stop at nothing to find him, Dark Horse, I promise,” she muttered under her breath, “Me ‘n my stupid promises.”  Shaking her head, she bent down and pulled off her left shoe.  Odd though it was that she wore such a shoe in terrain such as this, it remained a thing of beauty, sparkling clean despite the red dust.  She held it before her and clicked a button on the heel. A hidden screen appeared inside the toe, “Agent Rubix, this is Agent Glass Slipper, do you copy?”

            “I copy, Glass Slipper, go ahead,” came the voice on the other side, crackling with static through the communicator.  The screen fizzled to life, and Glass Slipper could just make out a woman in a dark purple trench coat.

            I need to get Cardboard Hut to fix this, she thought to herself, before remembering with an unpleasant jolt that Cardboard Hut couldn’t fix anything at the present. “I don’t see any sign of the hidden circus here, but the map’s out of clues,” Glass Slipper clenched said map in her other hand, crumpling it up.  “I think we’ve been led on a wild goose chase.  This is just the sort of thing Silver Spoon…”

            “Read the last clue again.”

            With a sigh Glass Slipper uncrumpled the map, “Up and up the red rocks climb, hurry now, you’re short on time. Quick, quick, don’t fret and fume, by noon you’ll hear a loud kaboom.”

            “I should think it’s obvious,” Rubix said, “Up and up, the red rocks climb. You’ve got to climb them, Slip.”

            “I don’t like the sound of this kaboom business.” Glass Slipper mumbled.

            “Then I suggest you should do as the map says and hurry.”

            “Alright, alright, I’m on it. Glass Slipper over and out.” She clicked the button on the heel again just as Agent Rubix said, “Good Luck.”      

            Glass Slipper replaced her left shoe, and glanced up at the cliffs.  It was a long way up to be sure, but she’d climbed higher, sheerer surfaces with less equipment and more at stake.  She placed her hand against the rock wall and smiled despite herself, “Piece of cake.”

*          *          *

            “And sous-sus, mount, pirouette.  Again, sous-sus, mount, pirouette.  Again, sous-sus, mount…arms, Hut, ARMS,” Agent Featherlite corrected the offender’s arms with growing frustration, “We’ve been through this twice already.  Come now, Hut – how do you expect to gain any sort of victory over Ballerina Man dancing like this?”

            “Pull out a Vex-2060 and vaporize him,” Agent Cardboard Hut muttered under her breath, thinking of her latest invention.

            “You’ll never get on pointe at this rate,” Featherlite continued, choosing to ignore Hut’s mumblings, “Your pirouettes are a disaster.  You’ve got to spot, dearie.”

            “Just pull a trigger and….”

            Featherlite sighed a heartfelt sigh and adjusted her sunglasses, “Begin again. Five, six, ready and sous-sus…”

            Cardboard Hut tried again to do the routine as well as the other agents, but her mind refused to stay in the studio.  It wandered to her suspended badge.  She had to earn it back.  She wasn’t allowed to help Rubix, Glass Slipper, and Dark Horse until then.  No missions.  No building and repairing secret devices.  No inventing another use for duct tape.  Nope – her life consisted of dance lessons, paperwork and refilling the water-cooler until she passed her secret agent test.  She’d already tried to retake it twice -- if she failed this time, she could kiss her memories and her team goodb….

            “Hut! ARMS!”

            Cardboard Hut sighed and fixed her arms before Featherlite could do it for her.  The other agents sniggered in their noses, but said nothing as they all began the routine again.

            “Sous-sus, mount, pirouette – and chainne, chainne, chainne, arabesque, sous-sus, mount, pirouette, aaaand finish,” Agent Featherlite raised her long, graceful arms into position with the other dancers as the music ended. “Lovely, ladies, lovely.  You’re all excused. Hut,” she turned to the place where Cardboard Hut should have been but saw no one, “Agent Cardboard Hut?”  The class sniggered again.

            “Down here, Featherlite.”

            “What are you doing on the floor, Hut?”

            “Well, I tripped on the arabesque.”

            Featherlite threw a hand to her forehead, “And Ballerina Man would have finished you by now.”

            “Not really,” Cardboard Hut pushed herself up, “He’d be too busy laughing his tutu off.” The class laughed, and Hut smiled appreciatively.

            Featherlite’s nostrils flared as she crossed her stick thin arms over her stick thin body, “You think it’s a laughing matter, do you?  Ballerina Man is deadly dangerous…”

            “I wouldn’t say that,” Cardboard Hut muttered.

            “…and a far better dancer than you’ll ever be.”

            “And that’s the truth,” Hut shrugged, “So why do we even try?”

            “You’ve got to be prepared.”

            “Look, I’ve faced Ballerina Man hundreds of times, and lived to tell the tale.  To tell you the truth, he’s not all that…”

            “But have you captured him yet?  Have you brought him to justice?”

            “No, but neither have you, and you’re the best ballerina here.  I don’t think dance is going to capture him, Agent Featherlite.”

            “You just bring that up with the Commander and Ch…”

            “Besides.  I can’t go on any more missions until I pass my test.” Cardboard Hut bit her lip to keep her temper from rising.  She knew that it was a matter of time before she exploded at someone.

            Agent Featherlite’s expression softened, as did those of the other agents in the class.  No one envied Cardboard Hut’s position.  “You’ll do it this time, I’m sure of it,” Featherlite said in a soothing voice.

            “Yeah, yeah.” Cardboard Hut rolled her eyes and stomped out of the studio, leaving the others to talk about her as they chose.  She hated the pitying expressions almost as much as she hated ballet. 

            Out in the vestibule, she found her bag and unzipped it with vigor. She rummaged until she found her baggy camouflage cargo pants and pulled them on over her leotard and tights.  Something fell from one of her many pockets.  As this was not an uncommon occurrence, she caught it without missing a beat, and stared at it.

            What’s this? she thought, suspiciously eyeing the thick white envelope.  A red wax seal and gold ribbon gave it a very old fashioned, almost romantic feel.  Eyes narrowed, she pulled her shaded goggles from her bag, snapped them to her face and fiddled with a hidden button on the right rim.  The goggles activated and quickly scanned the envelope for signs of danger, but found none.

            Her curiosity mounting, Cardboard Hut lifted the goggles, ripped open the envelope without ceremony, pulled out the letter and shook it open.  She squinted at the elegant scrawl, but then widened her eyes in shock and flushed.

Dearest Cardboard Hut,

            Too long have I waited in the shadows and admired you from a distance.  I fell in love with you the moment our eyes first met.  Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain tomorrow night at six o’clock.

Your Secret Admirer

            Oh dear, she thought, still in wide-eyed shock, Who in the world…I don’t recognize the handwriting.  Must be a joke… 

            But before she could ponder it further the dance room door opened and the rest of the class began to trickle out.  Cardboard Hut shoved the note into one of her pockets, swung her bag over her shoulder, and marched out the door, her mind awhirl.

            I should at least go and meet him. Find out who it is. Maybe it’s Twit! She smiled at the thought of Agent Twitterflit, an overly romantic young man who specialized in encrypting secret messages into soppy novels.  Sounds like something he would do.  I should at least pay him the courtesy of turning him down to his face.  Oh, but what if it’s not Twit?  What if it’s a prank after all…yeah, it’s gotta be a prank.  Someone’s definitely setting me up for a laugh…

            Her mind thus engaged, she marched swiftly down the hall toward the elevator without realizing where she was until she ran smack dab into someone and fell backward.

            “And this is why you can’t pass your test, Hut, you don’t pay attention!”

            “Hey, I don’t need a lecture from you too, Dark Horse.  Madam Featherbrain’s covered that.” She glared up at him as he hastily tucked something into the front of his coat, “Besides, you ran into me, just as well as I ran into you.”

            “Fair enough,” he smiled and offered her his hand, “And how are the dance lessons.”

            “Terrible, as usual,” she said, taking his hand and allowing him to help her to her feet.  Her eyes suddenly narrowed.  Was it her imagination, or did Dark Horse look a little flushed.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked uncomfortably.

            She analyzed him a split second longer.  He did look flushed.  Embarrassed even. – and in a way that had nothing to do with his accidentally knocking her over, as this was not an uncommon occurrence either.

            “Oh nothing,” she responded airily, “What are you doing down here anyway?”

            “Looking for you, of course.   I’d like to speak to you in private if you don’t mind.”

            Her scrutinizing expression cleared.  It couldn’t be Dark Horse – sneaky, secretive love notes definitely weren’t his style.  Not to mention his handwriting wasn’t that girlie. “Sure thing,” she said cheerfully, “We can use my office, it’s closest.”

*          *          *

            “Agent Rubix, this is Glass Slipper, do you copy?”

            “I copy, Glass Slipper, go ahead.”

            “I’m at the top…”

            “I noticed.  Why do you keep using your shoe anyway?”

            “The communicator on my shades broke last mission, remember?  I haven’t had time to talk to Hut about…” she trailed off, again realizing that Hut wouldn’t be allowed to fix it even if Glass Slipper had had time to visit her.  “Anyway, I see nothing by way of hidden circuses.  Who gave you this tip-off anyway?  It’s lousy.”

            “I told you, it was anonymous.  You’ve been griping about this mission since we started.  What’s your problem?  Never mind, just keep looking; I’ll bring the chopper around.  Over and out.

            “I just need to be back before tomorrow,” Glass Slipper muttered to herself as she again replaced her left shoe.  She straightened up and scanned the plateau on which she now stood.  Nothing but barren red rocks and sterile blue sky met her gaze.  It would be a while before the chopper arrived.  Massaging her sore muscles, Glass Slipper sat on a convenient rock to wait, pulling a thick white envelope, once sealed in wax, from her thigh holster.

Dearest Glass Slipper,

            Too long have I waited in the shadows and admired you from a distance.  I fell in love with you the moment our eyes first met.  Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain tomorrow night at six o’clock.

Your Secret Admirer

            Her mind ran over the male agents she came in contact with on a regular basis.  Surely it couldn’t be Agent Dark Horse; he had much more class than that.  Not to mention that his handwriting wasn’t half so loopy and frilly.  Her immediate suspicion, Agent Twitterflit, was driven out by her knowledge of his decided affection for Agent Rubix.  Then there was Agent Swell Well – he flirted with anything female that moved, even Agent Wobbles, the old navigation counselor.  But Glass Slipper knew on secret intelligence that Swell Well was now posted in Peru, and would have no way of slipping a message like this one into her inbox this morning, not to mention get back to HQ tomorrow by six o’clock.  Perhaps it was Agent Groban!  Her eyes glazed over a bit at this pleasant thought – a thought that made her impatient to be back at HQ ASAP -- but a loud bang soon drew her from her reverie.

KaBOOooOoOOOoOM!

            A rock at the center of the plateau exploded, and she had to dive behind what had previously served as a chair to avoid a shower of stone shrapnel.  The world shook with echoes of the blast, and Glass Slipper heard at least a dozen rock slides crash down into the ravine below. 

            Ages ticked by before the dust settled and the rumblings ceased.  Glass Slipper stood and dusted herself, pulling a pebble or two nonchalantly from her now frazzled blonde hair before turning toward the center of the plateau. 

            Where a large boulder had once stood, a verdant patch clashed with the deadness of its dry surroundings.  Glass Slipper approached it cautiously, her glass gun drawn for comfort.  Before she had crept halfway across the plateau, a tiny beeping caught her attention.

            “Agent Glass Slipper, this is Agent Rubix. Do you copy?”

            “In a minute,” Glass Slipper muttered, she could see a white plinth in the center of the green patch.

            “Agent Glass Slipper, this is Agent Rubix. Do you copy?”

            She took longer strides now, her gun still drawn, her eyes darting over her surroundings for signs of movement. 

            “Glass Slipper, please respond!!” Rubix’ voice held a note of hysteria now.

            Glass Slipper sighed and pulled off her left shoe. “I hear your, Rubix,” she said irritably, “What is it?”

            “You’re alright!  Thank goodness.  I could hear that kaboom even from the air.  What’s happened?”

            “A boulder at the center of this plateau exploded, and there was something inside it.  I suspect Dandelion Dave…”

            “What do you see?”

            “There’s some sort of pedestal where the boulder was, and it’s surrounded by…I think that’s regular lawn grass, no sign of dandelions though,” she took a step closer, “There’s something on the pedestal – something very colorful and…. My word, I don’t believe it.  It’s a Rubik’s cube!”

*          *          *

            Cardboard Hut’s office was more of a warehouse than anything, and large enough to hold at least two F-16s, which were both laying in pieces in the center of the room.  Mounds of Government Issue cardboard boxes lined the wall space that wasn’t taken up by tool racks, which displayed equipment of various shapes and sizes, from a rusty, dusty pitchfork to a near empty roll of duct tape.

            Despite all the open space of her “office”, her business desk stood crammed in the corner, where Hut had hoped she wouldn’t have to look at it.  In her mission days she had hardly used it, except to store paperclips, but now it was littered with official memos and other boring paper-things.  She looked blushingly away from the mess, not that it embarrassed her to be untidy, but because the mess was a sign of use, a sign of her ignominy.

            Dark Horse eyed the thin layer of dust that had gathered over Cardboard Hut’s mechanical paraphernalia, “They even keep you from tinkering these days, do they?”

            Cardboard Hut nodded glumly, eyeing the nearest F-16 with something like hunger before turning back to her comrade.  “Pull up a box,” she said, offering Dark Horse a cardboard box and taking one herself.  Her swivel chair was filed with another box of random gizmos and gadgets, “And how goes the search for Mountain Thunder?”

            Dark Horse’s expression hardened, “Last we heard, the hidden circus had moved again.  Rubix got an anonymous tip-off in her inbox this morning, but I get the feeling that by the time she and Slip get there it’ll be gone.  They’re always one step ahead of us…” he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing.  “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Hut.  All our equipment keeps malfunctioning.  We’re starting to suspect it’s the work of them, you know.  They’ve notice you’re not with us.  Anyway, we need…”

            “I can’t,” Hut said dully, “You know I can’t.”

             “You shouldn’t.  It’s not a question of can and can not.”

            “Talk to Agent Tinkerbell, he’ll…”

            “Tink’s on holiday, and besides, he’s not half as good as you…”

            “Stop it, I’m blushing,” Cardboard Hut giggled, then turned serious again in a blink, “Look.  I’m about this close to getting the boot…”

            “And the longer we argue about this, the longer Mountain Thunder has to wear a tutu and perform like a prancing pony!” Dark Horse jumped to his feet, his hands clenched into fists, “He’ll have no dignity left by the time we reach him!”

            Cardboard Hut surveyed him calmly, before murmuring, “I can’t, Dark.  Look,” she grabbed a memo, crumpled it, and threw it toward the nearest tool rack.  The wadded paper flew through the air straight toward a collection of wrenches, but it never struck them.  It rebounded off of something invisible a foot from them, bursting into flames in a shower of sparks.

            “What the…?”

            “Force field,” Cardboard Hut grunted, “They’ve cut me off from all my tools, all my materials, just about everything in this room with one rotten force field. I can only reach my desk.  And these,” she tapped the box of salvaged gizmos fondly.

            Dark Horse turned to her, his eyes wide behind his sunglasses, “You don’t need Rubix to see your way outta this one, Hut,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief, “A force field?  A force field?  You’ve shut down more complex things then a lousy force field…”

            “If I shut it down, they’ll know!”

            “And besides, these aren’t the only tools in the country.  Go to the hardware store, for Pete’s sake.”

            “You think my going to a hardware store will go unnoticed, do you?” Cardboard Hut found her favorite hat on her desk and pulled it over her eyes so she didn’t have to look at him.

            “I’ll go get you what you need.”

            “Fancy getting the boot too?” Cardboard Hut turned away from him, “They’ll know what you’re up to.  Send a letter to Tink, talk to the apprentices, or whoever you want, but leave me out of this.”

            “They’ve tried, but they can’t figure it out. After all, you invented all our equipment…”

            “Which is probably why it’s breaking down!” Cardboard Hut jumped to her feet, ripped the hat from her head and faced Dark Horse, tears on her face, “Don’t you get it?” she half-yelled, gesturing wildly,  “There’s a reason I’ve been suspended!  There’s a reason they don’t want me inventing things for other people.  I’m not up to par!  I’m useless!  Now get out of my office, I’ve got to finish this paperwork,” she spat the word in disgust.  She turned from him and pushed the box of gizmos from her desk chair without flinching at the sound of so many little machines breaking, and sat down heavily.

            Before she could swivel toward her desk, cutting off the conversation completely, Dark Horse placed a hand on her shoulder.  “We all believe in you,” he said quietly, “You’re not short on talent or skill, you’re short on…”

            “Confidence, I know.  You’ve been talking to Glass Slipper about this haven’t you?  I’ve heard this sermon before.  Please leave, I’ve got work to do.”

            Dark Horse shook his head in disbelief and did as she asked.  Out in the hall, he pulled something from the front of his jacket – a thick white envelope.

Dearest Dark Horse,

            Too long have I waited in the shadows and admired you from a distance.  I fell in love with you the moment our eyes first met.  Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain tomorrow night at six o’clock.

Your Secret Admirer

            So it’s definitely not Cardboard Hut, he thought sheepishly, And Glass Slipper and Rubix are out on a mission, they couldn’t have left it either.  Could be Flit.  He chuckled to himself at the thought of Agent Flittertwit, Twitterflit’s fraternal twin.  She worked in Twit’s department, only her specialty lay in encrypting soppy poetry rather than novels.  It could be a joke.  Just the sort of thing the girls would cook up... --by “the girls” he meant the rest of his team; Rubix, Glass Slipper, and Cardboard Hut, but he knew they were far more mature than to pull his leg like this.

            I guess I’ll find out at six tomorrow. He tucked the note back into his coat and turned his thoughts to Cardboard Hut’s dilemma.  She had one more chance to pass the test, and the stress had worn her down to breaking point, as he had just witnessed.  But the stress wasn’t only affecting her; the entire team had started to crumble under the pressure.  They’d worked together for years, ever since their second training camp in Quebec. 

            If they’d just exercised a smidgeon of faith in her, let her do one more mission, I’m sure she’d blow them all away, he thought bitterly.

            A timid beeping cut into his thoughts.  He drew a silver pocket watch from his vest and flipped it open, twiddling a little knob on the top to activate a hidden screen on the clock’s face.

            “Agent Dark Horse, this is Agent Glass Slipper, do you copy?”

            “I copy Glass Slipper, go ahead.”

            “We were unable to locate the circus…”

            “What else is new?” Dark Horse sighed heavily.

            “This is Agent Rubix, requesting admittance to the transmission.”           

            “Request confirmed,” Dark Horse’s screen split in two, showing both his comrades.

            “We suspect the map to be the work of them,” Rubix sighed, “It lead us to yet another clue, we think, trapped inside…”

            “This Rubik’s cube,” Glass Slipper held it up so the others could see it.

            “We’ll have it solved in a jiffy, soon as I can get there –for the last time, stop fiddling with it, Slip, you might hurt yourself.”         

            Glass Slipper let her hands fall to her side, for she had indeed started trying to solve the Rubik’s cube again.

            “Dark Horse, how goes operation Broken Fourth Wheel?” Rubix asked quietly, her voice crackling through the static.

            “Not well,” he said glumly, “There’s not much chance of fixing the fourth wheel without taking dire action.”

            “And what are you suggesting as dire action?” Glass Slipper inquired with mounting excitement.

            “By dire I mean ignoring certain limitations…”

            “Ignoring the can of bacon?” Glass Slipper smiled.

            “Shattering the sunflower bottle?” Rubix’ eyes widened behind her dark glasses.

            “Exactly,” Dark Horse said, his mouth set in a grim smile, “I mean, ignoring the can of bacon, shattering the sunflower bottle, and bringing the clumsy buffalo to the peanut butter patch.”

            “No you won’t,” a fourth voice cut into the conversation, and the clock face split into a third screen, “I know you’re talking about me, and I know you’re talking about smuggling me along on the next mission.  Don’t even think about it.   I won’t go.  I won’t have you guys booted on my behalf.  And I take umbrage at being referred to as a clumsy buffalo.”

            Rubix chuckled. “How long have you been listening to our transmissions, Cardboard Hut?”

            “Since I was suspended, whaddya think?  Now no rule breaking for my sake…”

            “Who’s breaking rules,” Glass Slipper smiled broadly.

            Cardboard Hut made a tutting noise and closed her end of the transmission, but not before uttering something that sounded remarkably close to a swear.

            “Who spit in her cereal?” Glass Slipper said with a raised eyebrow.

            “The higher ups, that’s who,” Dark Horse replied despondently. “She’s probably still watching you know,” he added because Glass Slipper had lifted her arms like a very inept ballerina in a perfect impression of Cardboard Hut.

            “I’m not making fun of her; I’m making fun of that Featherlite.  --such a nag.”

            “I don’t trust her,” Agent Rubix said coolly, “Her dance patterns are far too much like Ballerina Man’s.”

            “We’ve been over this Rubix,” Glass Slipper rolled her eyes, which no one saw because of her shades, “Martial ballet’s a rare art form.  It’s the same everywhere.”

            “I agree with Rubix,” Dark Horse began, “There’s something really fishy about…”

            “Sorry guys, gotta cut this transmission short.  I’m coming in to land.  Rubix, over and out.”

            “Just throw me the ladder.  Gah! I’d better go too,” Glass Slipper shouted over the noise of the oncoming helicopter, “She’s my ride ya know.  We can talk about Featherlite and the buffalo gal when me ‘n Rubix get back. Over and out.”

            “Now that we know she’s in on our transmissions, we should probably stop calling her a buffalo,” Dark Horse muttered to himself with a smirk, closing his pocket watch with a satisfying clack. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought he heard a distinctive snort issue from it before he snapped it shut and tucked it into his vest.

*          *          *

            Agent Rubix had the cube solved in a matter of seconds, as this was her specialty.  As soon as she solved it, she threw it back toward the plinth, grabbed Glass Slipper, and dove behind the nearest rock.

KaBOOooOoOOOoOM!

      The Rubik’s cube exploded, destroying the plinth and the small patch of grass around it.  “I thought that looked like one of mine,” she said, standing and dusting herself off, “Normal Rubik’s cubes don’t have a purple square.”  She sighed, “And this clue was apparently a dud.  Shall we be going, Glass Slipper?”

            “What’s that?” Glass Slipper asked, pointing toward something white fluttering like a demented butterfly against the purpling firmament, “The cube threw that out sky high before it exploded.” It floated closer and she snatched it – a thick white envelope sealed in red wax and a gold ribbon, “It says your name on the back,” she said, handing it to Rubix.

            Rubix took it and twiddled with something on her sunglasses, scanning the letter as Cardboard Hut had done.  When she saw nothing, which didn’t surprise her because her scanner was having troubles, she took the envelope and slit it open with one of her long, sharp, multicolored fingernails.

Dearest Rubix,

            Too long have I waited in the shadows and admired you from a distance.  I fell in love with you the moment our eyes first met.  Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain tomorrow night at six o’clock.

Your Secret Admirer

            “Please meet me at the Giggling Fountain…” Rubix tucked the note into the front of her coat, “Well at least he’s polite.  Who would go through all this trouble to ask me out?”

            “Who do you think?  It was probably Twit!” Glass Slipper nudged Rubix in the ribs.

            “Twit has never been a secret admirer,” Rubix said dryly.

            “It could be Agent Blueshirt!”

            “Perhaps…” Rubix liked the thought of that. “Oh, but what if it’s Agent Dark Horse?  That could mess up the team…”

            “More than it’s already messed up, you mean?” Glass Slipper said dolefully, “Nah, I thought it could be Dark Horse on mine too, but his handwriting isn’t girlie like that.  And I don’t think secret love notes are really his style.”

            “Yeah, you’re right…wait a minute,” Rubix turned sharply to her comrade, “You got one too?”

            “Yeah!” Glass Slipper said brightly, brushing a strand of very blonde hair from the front of her sunglasses, “It said the exact same thing on mine too.  Giggling Fountain, six o’clock.  Wait a minute…” her eyes widened, “You know what this means?”

            Rubix nodded curtly.

            “It means it’ll be a double date at the Giggling Fountain!  I’m so glad.  It would’ve been so much more awkward alone!”

            Rubix looked heavenward, breathing through gritted teeth and praying for patience.  She faced Glass Slipper, “It means that someone’s trying to get the both of us in one place.  The Giggling Fountain is a very secluded area…”

            “Of course it’s secluded.  If I were writing secret love notes, I wouldn’t have us meet where everyone could see.”

            “Could you be any more blonde?  It’s a trap!”

            “You think everything’s a trap.” Glass Slipper pointed an accusing finger at Rubix, “You even thought this mission was a trap, but it was just some guy trying to ask you out.  I should think you’d be flattered.”

            “Well, I’m not, to tell you the truth,” she pulled off one of her Rubik’s cube earrings.

            “What are you doing?”

            “-- calling Dark Horse.  He should know about this.”

            “Oh no you don’t,” Glass Slipper grabbed the earring, “He could have written one of our letters.”

            “Then I’ll call Cardboard Hut.  --gimme my earring back.”       

            “But she’ll feel bad that she didn’t get a secret love note too!  There’s no use making her feel worse than she already does.” Glass Slipper kept a tight hold on the earring communicator until Rubix nodded with pursed lips.

            “Fine, let’s get out of here,” she turned to the helicopter then changed her mind and turned sharply back, “But promise me one thing. If you must go to this rendezvous, promise me you’ll go armed.”

            “Tch, like I wouldn’t,” Glass Slipper rolled her eyes again behind her sunglasses, “It could be anyone – even Agent Bugbear.  I might have to run for it.”

            “Exactly,” Agent Rubix said, turning back to the helicopter, “…exactly.”

*          *          *

            The next day, at 17:45 by her watch, Cardboard Hut stood from her deskwork and stretched.  With a surreptitious glance around her office, she marched to and out the door, walked down the hall, past the water-cooler and a dozen or so other offices, and into one of the many elevators.

            She met Agent Twitterflit as she came out of the elevator on the main floor.  Though she bid him a good evening, he merely waved at her with his usual vague expression, muttering something that sounded like a sonnet.

            “…but what rhymes with Rubix?” he asked himself dolefully, “Where is Flit?  She would know…”

            She met no one else as she took a roundabout way out into the gardens, and approached her destination with caution.  Few people came to the Giggling Fountain because of its highly obnoxious sound, so it came as a mild and disconcerting surprise that she heard voices above the gurgled sniggering laugh of the water as she listened behind a stone archway.

            “You?!” a female shrieked, “I could’ve sworn it wasn’t you!  The team’s too important to you to pull something like this.”

            “For the last time,” barked a male voice with a slight western twang, “I didn’t write you a secret love note!  But I thought you at least would’ve cared enough about the team to hold off on something like this...”

            “I told you!  I didn’t write you a secret love note either.”

            “Well now that that’s settled, you guys can stop shouting at each other,” Cardboard Hut said huffily, coming around the corner.

            “Wait a minute – you didn’t…”

            “Keep your chaps on, Dark Horse, I didn’t write any secret love note either.  In fact, I received one, look,” Cardboard Hut drew the envelope from one of her countless pockets and handed it to him.

            “It looks just like mine!” Glass Slipper and Dark Horse said together.

            “And Rubix got one like that too!” Glass Slipper’s expression froze, “She was right!” she moaned, “This must be a trap after all.”

            “Very good, Glass Slipper. Very good,” an unmistakable voice simpered in its usual Russian burr, “I knew that your acute little mind would figure it sooner or later.”

            “Silver Spoon!” Glass Slipper gasped, whirling toward the sound.

            “Yes, it is I,” he stood atop one of the ivy-clad walls, brandishing his silver and ebony cane.  His white lab coat and hurly-burly hair stirred gently in a light breeze, and he readjusted his mauve bowtie with a satisfied smirk.

            “Fortunately you don’t have the sense to listen to your smart little friend.  She nearly blew it for us, eh Spoon?” 

            “Shade Darker,” Dark Horse said stiffly, turning to see his arch nemesis standing atop the adjacent wall. 

            “Howdy, wot, wot,” Shade Darker smiled his all-too European smile and tipped his white Stetson toward Dark Horse, whose lip twitched as he took in the other’s attire.  Everything from his over shined snakeskin boots to his lily-white duster and red-gold vest screamed poser.  And the monocle certainly didn’t add.

            “Speaking of the brainpan, where is she?” A man in a yellow suit stepped atop the next wall, his tufty white hair sticking out of his anomalous green head like dandelion fluff, “Surely she didn’t abandon you when she knew it must be a trap.  Not after I spent so much time preparing this.  I had her in mind, you see.”

            “Dandelion Dave,” Glass Slipper whispered, “That leaves…”

            “Oh wait, here she is!”  A fourth voice called in a confusing but familiar accent.  Cardboard Hut had never quite decided if it were American, French, or Mexican.

            “Ballerina Man,” she moaned.

            “Rubix!” Glass Slipper cried.

            “Mountain Thunder!” Dark Horse drew his revolvers and spun them around his hands, “You take that tutu off him right now!” he roared, pointing his guns at the figure of Ballerina Man standing in fifth position beneath the stone archway.  In one hairy but graceful arm he held a limp Rubix, bound and gagged, sunglasses askew, in the other he held the reins of a magnificent winged horse, decked out from head to hoof in sparkly pink ribbons and, of course, an extremely fluffy tutu.

            Ballerina Man pulled Rubix in front of him, “Watch it, Dark Horse.  You wouldn’t want to hurt your little friend.”

            Dark Horse’s jaw clenched and he lowered the revolvers, his eyes on Rubix’ ashen face.

            Ballerina Man nodded at his comrades.  Dandelion Dave and Silver Spoon each drew gigantic purple bazookas, and Shade Darker front flipped to land on the fountain’s top spire, pushed off and landed beside Ballerina Man, taking Rubix off his hands, “Alright pardners, hands up, or the girl gets it, wot wot.  And I mean up Miss Hut, I know what you keep in those pockets of yours”

            “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her pockets, Shade, she’s been suspended, remember?” Ballerina Man grinned, “And I happen to know that she’s been a very good girl lately.  Wouldn’t want to risk getting the pink slip now would she?”

            “You’d know all about pink slips, wouldn’t you Ballerina Man?” Cardboard Hut smiled faintly, raising her hands into the air so they bumped Dark Horse’s as he did the same, “But you’re right, I’m about as toothless as a newborn baby.” She eyed Rubix as the bad guys laughed, but didn’t have her goggles with her and so had to hide her surprise as her eyes raked Rubix’ forehead.

            “Any ideas?” Glass Slipper whispered, her arms above her head.

            “Yeah.  One,” Cardboard Hut said a little louder than she meant.  The bad guys fell silent in time for that, “One,” to echo over the Giggling Fountain, but they were too late.  Cardboard Hut had already swung one of the revolvers from Dark Horse’s hands, aimed it at Rubix, and fired.