Damianya one shots ❤️

When will they learn?

Toby: Who taught it would be a good idea to bring the scariest woman here today, like there isn't already five scary woman in this studio.

Sylvia: What did you say?!

Toby (sweating bullets): Nothing ma'am.

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[Past, Park Late Afternoon(currently in anime)]

It was late afternoon when Sylvia Sherwood left her office without her coat, an oddity for a woman who had worn professionalism like a second skin for years. The sun stretched low across the horizon, washing the park in gold and rust. The war had ended ten years ago, but some silences, she found, linger longer than ceasefires.

She walked the winding path of the public garden, hands folded behind her back, eyes half-lidded. It was another tough day at work and no one said keeping peace was an easy job. Every once in a while though, Sylvia had a quiet moment in the day. The once peaceful silence now haunted her. Memories of her late daughter and husband.

The world had moved on. That was the hardest part.

As she passed a tall hedge and approached the open field, a peculiar scene came into view.

There, in a patch of sun, was Loid Forger — codename Twilight, Westalis's finest spy. The man she had mentored, molded, and armed with a thousand disguises. He was currently being tackled by a pink-haired child and a massive white dog.

"Bond! No! You can't eat Papa's shoe again!" the girl shrieked in delight as the dog gently mouthed Loid's boot.

Loid, to his credit, tried to maintain composure, standing stiff as if at parade rest. "Anya," he said with that agent's flatness, "that's a biohazard."

"Bio... hazard?" Anya's eyes lit up. "Like zombie goo?!"

Sylvia blinked.

Sylvia paused near the edge of the tennis court, leaning against a lamppost, arms folded. From this vantage point, she had a full view of Westalis's most elite operatives — one in a white workout blouse and ponytail, the other in a sundress and murder in her eyes — engaged in what could only be described as an all-out tennis duel.

On the tennis court, Yor spun midair and delivered a blinding serve. The ball ricocheted like a bullet, barely caught by Nightfall, who returned it with equal force.

"Take that!" Yor said breathlessly. "I mean — nice shot!"

Nightfall merely adjusted her grip and muttered, "Every match is war."

Sylvia blinked.

Nightfall returned the ball with far too much force for a game between friends.

"This is a casual match!" Yor cried in a voice equal parts horror and glee.

"Everything I do is for Twilight!" Nightfall stated mid-serve, far too intensely.

Sylvia chuckled — softly, privately.

Yor twirled like a ballerina and struck the ball with such force it made the chain-link fence rattle when Nightfall returned it in kind, sweat flicking from her brows as she gritted her teeth.

Loid stood nearby, pretending to read a newspaper on the bench with Anya curled up beside him, dozing, and Bond asleep at his feet. His brows were ever so slightly furrowed.

He glanced up occasionally, watching the women trade blows like Olympic finalists, then muttered something Sylvia barely caught: "They're taking this friendly match... a little too seriously."