As they take in the ever-expanding lockup, Daniel notices something new—a raised wooden stage, complete with deep red curtains and an old-fashioned footlight setup. The stage is adorned with strange symbols, shifting slightly in the dim light.
The doll-headed Elizabeth claps her porcelain hands together. “A stage! Oh, it has been too long!” Her excitement is infectious, and Elizabeth, still inhabiting the clockwork dancer body, twirls on her toes.
Veronica smirks. “Guess the lockup knows we’re putting on a show.”
Daniel flips through the book, skimming the trick names. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here…
The Vanishing Waltz, The Three-Body Problem, The Weaving of Selves—”
Elizabeth, both versions of her, perk up at that last one. “Ooh, that sounds dramatic.”
The doll-headed Elizabeth nods. “It’s a wonderful trick! A real crowd-pleaser.”
Daniel raises an eyebrow. “You remember this one?”
“I remember performing it,” the doll says. “The execution… that’s a little hazy.”
Daniel sighs but flips to the page. “Okay, The Weaving of Selves. It says here that two performers enter separate cabinets, their forms ‘woven’ together through mirrored reflections, and when they step out…” His eyes widen. “They’ve traded aspects of each other.”
Elizabeth grins. “I love it.”
Veronica chuckles. “You just want to see what happens when you mix yourself up again, don’t you?”
Elizabeth shrugs playfully. “Who doesn’t love a bit of transformation?”
Daniel rolls his eyes but gestures toward the stage. “Alright, let’s set it up. Looks like we need two cabinets, mirrors, and…” He frowns. “Something called the ‘Thread of Reflection’?”
The doll-headed Elizabeth claps her hands. “Oh! It’s here somewhere.” She rushes backstage with an unsettlingly graceful glide.
As she searches, Daniel and Veronica position the two cabinets on stage—each lined with mirrors, angled to reflect infinitely inward. They can already sense the illusion at play, the reflections bending in ways that don’t seem quite right.
Elizabeth—still in the clockwork body—steps into one cabinet. The doll-headed Elizabeth steps into the other.
Daniel tightens his grip on the book. “Alright… let’s weave.”
Veronica flips a switch. The mirrors shimmer. The figures inside distort, their reflections layering over one another. Elizabeth sees her own body flicker between the doll’s porcelain limbs and her own flesh and blood. The doll-headed Elizabeth blurs, shifting between being a performer, a dancer, something regal, something other.
And then—just as quickly as it started—the mirrors darken. The doors creak open.
Two Elizabeths step out.
But something has changed.
Daniel and Veronica step back as the two Elizabeths emerge. Gone is the porcelain elegance of the dancer doll—these versions of Elizabeth look like mass-produced mannequins, smooth and artificial. Their plastic skin reflects the dim light, their expressions locked in an eerie, stilted grin. Their synthetic hair, molded in perfect waves, refuses to shift no matter how they move.
Daniel swallows. “Uh… Elizabeth?”
Both doll-like Elizabeths turn their heads toward him at the exact same time, their movements just a fraction too stiff.
“Yes, Daniel?” they chime in unison.
Veronica shivers. “Oh, that’s unsettling.” She waves a hand in front of one of their faces. “Are you… you?”
The Elizabeths blink—at the same time, perfectly synchronized. “I am Elizabeth,” they say, their voices just a little too smooth, a little too polished.
Veronica crosses her arms. “Okay, but why are there two of you? And why do you look like store mannequins?”
The Elizabeths look at each other, their smiles unwavering. One lifts her hand and flexes her fingers, the plastic digits moving with a faint squeak. “I feel… different. Like I was assembled rather than grown.”
Daniel flips through the book. “This is not what was supposed to happen.” He scans the pages, his eyes darting over faded ink. “The trick was The Weaving of Selves, but—oh. Oh no.”
Veronica leans over. “What? What ‘oh no’?”
Daniel exhales sharply. “There was a footnote. ‘Warning: If reflections are not properly anchored, performers may take on the nature of the illusion itself.’”
Veronica groans. “You’re telling me they became the illusion?”
The Elizabeths tilt their heads in eerie unison. “Is that a problem?”
Daniel and Veronica exchange glances.
Yes. Yes, it might be.
As Daniel frantically flips through the book, muttering under his breath about "anchors" and "illusion permanence," Veronica steps forward, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
"Alright, you two," she says, addressing both plastic-like Elizabeths. "How do you feel about helping me with an escape trick?"
The two Elizabeths tilt their heads in eerie unison, their perfect grins unwavering. "We would love to assist, Veronica," they reply in unison.
Daniel glances up. "Are you seriously just… rolling with this?"
Veronica shrugs. "Look, we know we’ll fix this eventually. Might as well have some fun with it first." She turns back to the Elizabeths. "I want you two to help restrain me. But first, we need the right outfits."
She leads them over to the wardrobe section of the lockup, where outfits seem to have appeared specifically for this occasion. Veronica grins as she pulls out a pair of shimmering metallic pink dresses—short, tight, and undeniably Austin Powers-inspired. Matching knee-high go-go boots and sleek elbow-length gloves complete the ensemble.
The Elizabeths obediently slip into the outfits, their movements still just slightly unnatural, but undeniably striking in their new attire. Their molded plastic features now fit the aesthetic perfectly—almost as if the lockup itself had anticipated this idea.
Veronica, meanwhile, finds something to match—an equally 1960s-inspired catsuit, black and sleek, with a plunging neckline and a utility belt with no apparent function except to look stylish. She steps into the outfit, zipping it up as she admires the reflection of herself between the two robotic-looking Elizabeths.
Daniel rubs his temples. "Okay, I have to ask—why, exactly, are they dressed like Fembots?"
Veronica smirks. "Because they’re going to restrain me, and I want to make it theatrical. If we’re doing an escape act, we might as well make it fun."
The Elizabeths look at each other, then back at Veronica. "What are our instructions, Veronica?"
Veronica claps her hands. "Glad you asked. Ladies, let’s set up a proper villainous capture scene. We’re going full spy movie here."
Daniel sighs, muttering something about losing control of the situation. But even he can’t deny—he’s curious to see how this plays out.
As Veronica stretches out her arms, twisting and contorting them to slip free from the cuffs, she feels an odd sense of familiarity—like her body already knows how to escape. Her fingers bend just a little further than they should, her wrists narrow ever so slightly, and her limbs stretch just enough to slip out of restraints with an unnatural ease.
She exhales, flexing her fingers. "Okay. That was new."
Daniel, who had been watching, flips through the book. "You shouldn't be able to do that."
Veronica smirks. "And yet, I just did. It's like my body's adapting to escaping. It’s like… that catsuit. I thought it was just giving me a feeling, but it’s more than that. I’ve kept something from it."
She moves over to a full-length mirror, stretching her arms out and twisting at the waist, testing her range of motion. Her body feels more flexible, more responsive, as if the suit’s enhancements had become a permanent part of her.
Elizabeth, still in her doll-like body, watches curiously. "So, you’re saying the suit actually changed you?"
Veronica shrugs. "Not just changed me—it stayed with me. But nothing matches the way it felt wearing it. I need to put it back on again."
She turns back to the wardrobe, eyes scanning for the catsuit, but hesitates for a moment. What if it changes me even more?
Then again… she can’t shake the craving to feel that shiver run through her again.
Veronica takes a deep breath, stretching her limbs again, feeling that lingering flexibility from the catsuit still within her. A sly grin crosses her lips as she turns to the two Elizabeths, now standing unnervingly still, their smooth, plastic-like faces locked in pleasant but artificial smiles.
"Alright, ladies," Veronica says, rolling her shoulders, "for tonight’s performance, I present to you… The Swinging Spy’s Final Mission!"
She strikes a dramatic pose, hands on her hips. "An elite spy caught by the enemy, trapped in a devious death trap, bound and helpless! Can she escape before her doom is sealed?"
The two Elizabeths nod in eerie synchronization. "Capturing the spy," one of them says in a slightly mechanical tone, "commencing restraining protocol."
Veronica raises an eyebrow. "Restraining protocol?"
Before she can react, the Elizabeths move fast. Too fast. Their doll-like hands snap onto her wrists and twist them behind her back in a movement so precise it’s like they’ve done it a thousand times. She barely has time to register the cold, smooth cuffs clicking around her wrists before her ankles are seized next.
"Hey—!" Veronica yelps, trying to wriggle free, but the two Elizabeths work in perfect synchronization, positioning her just as they want. Her arms are pressed behind her, her legs pulled taut as another set of restraints are applied.
Elizabeth (the original) tilts her head slightly. "Spy captured. Awaiting orders."
"That was…" Veronica huffs, tugging at her bindings. "Pretty impressive. But you know…" She grins.
"I always escape."
She flexes her fingers, feeling for the first lock to pick, when suddenly the Elizabeths step back. A mechanical whirr sounds from somewhere in the lockup, and the stage—the one that had mysteriously appeared earlier—shifts beneath them. Spotlights flicker on, illuminating Veronica’s bound form in the centre.
Daniel frowns. "Uh… was that supposed to happen?"
Veronica laughs. "Oh, this just got way more fun. Let’s see if the Swinging Spy can make her daring escape!*"
Veronica tugs at her restraints, testing them, but the Elizabeths have done their job too well. The cuffs at her wrists and ankles keep her stretched across the table, and the firm hold at her neck prevents much movement. She smirks despite herself—this was exactly the kind of challenge she craved.
Then, with eerily synchronized movements, the two Elizabeths lift a metal frame and lower it over her, locking it into place.
"Spy no longer swinging," they say in unison, their smooth, plastic-like faces fixed in their uncanny smiles.
Veronica raises an eyebrow. "Alright, girls, you got me good. But remember… I always get out." She flexes her fingers, already reaching for the first lock.
Daniel, standing nearby with his arms crossed, watches cautiously. "You sure this isn't a bit much?"
Elizabeth (the original) tilts her head. "The act must be believable, Daniel. A proper escape must have stakes."
"And suspense," the doll-headed Elizabeth adds.
Veronica chuckles. "They get it. Now, let’s see if I can pull off my biggest escape yet…*" She takes a breath, focusing on the restraints. The catsuit had changed her—she could feel it. If she could just tap into what it had given her, maybe she’d have an easier time escaping than she ever had before…
But then, something clicks.
A mechanism inside the cage.
Something shifting.
And suddenly, the table beneath her starts tipping.
Veronica tugs against her restraints as the heat from below washes over her. "Hold on, hold on— what was that?*" She glances at the Elizabeths, whose doll-like faces remain frozen in eerie smiles.
"It’s part of the trick," they say in perfect unison.
Daniel steps forward, looking between them and the bubbling wax below. "And what exactly happens in this ‘trick’?"
"Transformation," one Elizabeth says.
"Creation," the other adds.
Daniel frowns. "You’re trying to turn Veronica into a doll?"
"She wants to escape," the first Elizabeth says. "She must escape before the process completes."*
Veronica lets out a dry laugh. "Oh, you’re kidding me. That’s the setup? Either I get out of this in time or I’m dunked and turned into a doll?"
"Yes," the Elizabeths say together.
Daniel shakes his head. "No, that’s not happening. We’re stopping this now—"
"No!" Veronica interrupts, a wicked grin crossing her face. "This is perfect."
"Veronica—"
"Daniel, you don’t get it! This is the ultimate challenge! I have to do this."* Her fingers work against the cuffs, but she’s also testing something else—her body. The changes from the catsuit… she had been able to stretch, to slip, to move in ways she never could before. If she could get free, she needed to prove it.
The heat rises. The restraints hold.
And the wax below bubbles.
Veronica’s breath comes fast as she yanks her wrist free, her fingers already working on the clasp at her neck. The table tilts ever so slightly, shifting under her as the vat of molten wax below gurgles ominously. Heat rises in waves, making her skin slick with sweat.
"Almost there…" she mutters, her fingers dancing over the mechanism of the neck restraint.
Click.
Chapter Twenty Eight: Who was Kashmir again?
Chapter Twenty Seven: This is getting weird, even for us.
Chapter Twenty Six: Elizabeth Needs a Key
Chapter Twenty Five: Assembling Elizabeth the Doll
Chapter Twenty Four: Veronica vs the Guillotine
Chapter Twenty Three: Return to the Lockup
Chapter Twenty Two: Now what did Daniel do?
Chapter Twenty One: What did the ladies do this week?
Chapter Twenty: The Captured Cat gets wet.
Chapter Nineteen: Veronica becomes the Captured Cat.
Chapter Eighteen: The Living Dummy
Chapter Seventeen: Spilt switch and back again.
Chapter Sixteen: The Heist goes wrong, oh my.
Chapter Fifteen: Preparing for the Heist
Chapter Fourteen: Introducing The Transposition Trick
Chapter Thirteen: Stretching, Spikes and Shackles.
Chapter Twelve: Blades and Misalignment
Chapter Eleven: Veronica finds her suit
Chapter Ten: The Lockup. Veronica gets a glow up
Chapter Nine: Compacting Veronica
Chapter Eight: Pancakes and inflating balloons
Chapter Seven: But wait, there's more!
Chapter Four: One becomes two, two become one