Chapter 2 (dedicated to A)

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I listened and scowled as Eleanora Poe prattled on and on about The Daily Punctilio's headlines, oblivious to the miserable frowns on Violet, Klaus, and Sunny's faces. The poor things had just lost their parents a few days ago and the woman had already tried to interview them on how they felt, forcing them to say, "We feel terrible and we miss our parents very much," in order for her to use it as a headline for the news story she was editing.

It seemed as if the Poe family were all complete imbeciles. The two boys — Edgar and Albert, I overhead Eleanora say — were constantly fighting and what's more, excluding the Baudelaires as if they were simply a new piece of furniture that had been moved into their room temporarily. I began to think that any guardian would be better than the Poe family. Except him. Anyone but HIM.

'Him' would be a terrible man whose name went down in VFD history in the worst possible way; a once-volunteer who became an arsonist. From putting out fires to starting them. His name was Count Olaf, and although Kit had been engaged to him once she had never mentioned a last name. In fact, she barely mentioned him at all, besides to finish a string of swearing with his name, as if he were the worst profanity of them all.

Truth be told, I'd heard all about Olaf and his ragtag group of associates — "His theatre troupe," my eldest sister Miranda used to mutter with distaste — from none other than Beatrice Baudelaire. I'd been close to her as she was Kit's best friend, but for other reasons, too — reasons that Olivia and Nadia had not and would not hear about. VFD, that is.

You see, fighting figurative and literal fires is not something that comes naturally to everyone. Or anyone. But okay, here's the thing. When you are recruited into the organisation ('recruited' being a word which here means, 'dragged by the ankles by a volunteer out your kitchen window in the middle of the night, to then be thrust into a very chaotic world and given a tattoo on your left ankle at the pure young age of five,'), you are given schooling until you are around, say, ten. Once you graduate, you are assigned a chaperone — a person who mentors you in VFD practices until you are deemed capable enough to do it on your own. Beatrice was my chaperone.

"Now children," Arthur began cheerfully, evidently proud of his ignorant self, "I think I may have found a guardian for you! He is an actor, and his name is Count Olaf!"

Really. Really. Really? What is with this man? How does Jacquelyn put up with him every day? I sighed, and fought to keep my facial expression neutral — "An agent's greatest asset, Lita! And I will make yours perfect!" Kit used to say —as I walked calmly to a bench and pulled a newspaper from my pocket.

WE FEEL TERRIBLE AND WE MISS OUR PARENTS VERY MUCH, screamed the headline. Yes, we assumed, considering their parents just died. Thanks, Eleanora.

But I wasn't using the paper for purpose of entertainment, learning to be a journalist (tip for those of you who are: The Daily Punctilio is not the paper to learn from), or catching up on current affairs, no; it was a hiding place. After all, I was on a mission now. Mission Baudelaires. Mission... save the children? Mission... never mind. I always left the fancy way with words to Kit's younger brother Lemony, anyway.

I pulled out something else from my pocket. It was shiny, silver, about the size of a flat basketball (I have big coat pockets), and shaped like a four-pointed star with doughnuts instead of points. In the holes of those doughnut-like shapes rested four silver orbs, and if you looked closely you would see a minuscule camera in the middle of each one. Cameras identical to the one attached to the star-like base. I smiled at my invention. Voltaire.

"We have a job to do, Voltaire," I said as I pulled out something else from my pocket — a tiny remote control. I clicked a green switch and Voltaire's cameras lit up emerald. I grinned. I twisted the minuscule joystick on the remote up, and he lifted off my knees and into the air. I pressed the button with '1' on it (there are four, one for each aforementioned camera orb), and One (of course I named the orbs) flew into the air. I pulled a picture of the Baudelaires that Beatrice had given me years ago out of my other pocket, and held it in front of One's camera. It scanned, and One flew off to find them. Face recognition. One of my more genius ideas.

I slid off the bench and directed Voltaire far up into the sky where he would not be seen. Now that I knew One would follow the Baudelaires wherever they went, I could speak to Jacquelyn and Larry about their backup jobs. I'd be able to watch One's camera from Jac's monitor at the bank. It's secret, naturally, like most other things VFD is involved in. I casually whistled a tune that Kit's twin brother Jacques taught me when I was younger.

Da, da-da-da, da, da...

Author's Note: it's the intro from the Netflix version of ASOUE, before the Beatrice acknowledgment. I kind of wanted to add it in, so here it is! Hope you're enjoying TWISI, don't forget to vote if you are!

~ Kya

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