"Now Marisa, don't go wandering off again like last time." The woman who gave birth to me stated firmly. I wanted to say, 'There's no promises there.' You see, I'm training to be a serious spy. And what's a serious spy without the adventure and continuos walking around? Nowhere. So it took all the strength in my body to nod in agreement. Mom seemed doubtful, however she opened the door, giving sign that I could leave.

Turning around, I waved as Mom closed the heavy black gate, "I'll be back in no time!" Where am I going, you ask? The answer is simple, it's October, the month full of laughter and fright. Since my family originates from very mature (note sarcasm)ancestors, we HAVE to host a Halloween party every year. Dad is currently slaving away at a new job and my bigger brother is too old for all the 'childish crap', as he claims it to be. That leaves me, Marisa, the spy, to happily skip over to the famous market for some rather huge pumpkins.

"Check, check....one, two, three. Can you hear me George?" I asked into my microphone that was hidden under the familiar mass of long curly brown hair. No. George does not exist, hey! Don't stare at me like I'm crazy! My friend Penelope, who was supposed to train with me, recently decided it was 'whack' and joined a group of Scottish blondes at our school. Loner spy. I can handle it.

Autumn leaves danced wildly about, only later falling to their dooms in the tiny puddles below. Insects and random animals silently prepared themselves for winter. Cold rays of this season's breeze caused me to regret leaving my jacket back at the house. It's alright though, sometimes you can't take anything but the clothes on your back on a mission. As I steered the pathway corner, I realized that I'm almost to the market. How many charts will I need to bring the pumpkins come? Two? Three? FIVE?

Let's not worry about that now though. You know what else I want more than anything? Of course not, then I wouldn't need to tell you. Right after moving to Scotland, the mysterious cemetery caught my curious eye. Mom and Dad forbid me to ever walk upon it's stony sidewalk, it's grassy death ground. But as a spy in training, sometimes you gotta bend the rules a bit! Those vampire like gates tried to welcome me into an unknown place. No. I can't. Not now. Blinking with frustration, I ran past the entrance and didn't stop till I reached the market.

Mrs. Foley, the rightful owner of the outside market saw me speeding by, "Oh hello Marisa! What brought you here at this time of day?"

I came to a full halt near the apple stand, "Mom wanted me to pick up some pumpkins for the Halloween party tonight!" She and her husband were invited only days before.

"Really? Are you sure you can carry them all the way back home?---I could send my workers to do that busy effort!" Please. Every time I arrive here, Mrs. F always thinks I can't do things for myself. I'm fifteen! Not to mention a spy....alright, that's not something I can automatically say to a person I hardly know.

I smiled, shaking my head politely, "No thank you, Mrs. Foley. Just gonna pick up a few, chart will be just fine!" Quickening my pace, I felt her deep blue eyes burn holes in my jacket-less back. Pumpkin stand....pumpkin stand...where have you gone? Aha! Suckers! Orange pumpkins beamed up at me, like sweet angels in heaven.

"Five dollars."

I jumped, almost dropping one of Mom's soon to be pies, "What?"

The worker sitting at the table rolled his brown eyes, "Pumpkins are five bucks a piece, kid." KID? Excuse me? Does he know who he is talking to? Obviously not. I'm Marisa! The next James Bond! No tuxes, I cannot bear it.

"Oh...yeah. Right." My hand flew to my pocket, so fast that the microphone in my hair fell to the dirty floor. Opps. The male worker glanced down, his expression full of pure amusement. What? Never saw a normal girl with spy devices before? Geez! People are so judgmental nowadays. Picking up the handiwork, I shoved it in my open pocket.

Try to play it off as if it was nothing, "How much were the pumpkins again, sir?"

His name tag read Jared, "Uh----Five bucks....a piece."

Giving him the fifteen dollars that Mom had trusted with me earlier, I beamed the boy a smile, "There you go." Jared seemed surprised, wondering how a person like me could possibly carry pumpkins all the way back. I absolutely hate it when bigger, stronger dudes underestimate the power of a secret spy.

My predictions were right when he ushered a few men to take the pumpkins, "Just tell them where you live and they'll be there soon enough."

"No, no, no. I got it."

Jared sighed, shoving my ever green money into the small bucket was that labeled 'Pay here', "Whatever you want. It's not the market's fault if you break your back trying to manage all those orange monsters."

Gee, thanks. Remind me to never come back here again. When Mom wants something to be done, I'll force my brother to do the dirty work!---Well, probably not. He's about six foot while I'm merely five two. Muscles are practically popping out of his shirt ever since girls at our high school started taking interest in him. Enough of this, I must get these doomed pies home.

I did my best to ignore shoppers glance at me now and then as I advanced towards the chart section. I'm going to need three. The pumpkins a few distance away were mocking me, claiming that I don't have the strength to place them in the charts. Ha, I'll show them. James Bond is pretty strong, right? Pumpkin number one was the easiest, considering how it was the smallest one. Pumpkin number two was pretty hesitant to fall in....however after many minutes of counseling, the orange apple wanna bee decided to cut me slack. Down to my last chart, pumpkin number three had steam coming out of it's nonexistent ears. Ah.....the bull of the bunch. Would I need a red cape to get him in? Yes, pumpkin number three is a boy because a girl loves to be carried around in a shopping chart.

Jared was still watching at the stand, "Are you sure you don't need help?"

I could only muster a head nod as I pushed pumpkin number three to the remaining chart. Suddenly, the market was gone and both of us were in a huge Egyptian styled cave. My clothes were replaced with tacky cowgirl ones while the pumpkin increased in size. Thy(not a spelling mistake) orange devil himself began to tumble after me, screaming latin curses left and right. Great! All I wanted was some pumpkin pie for the Halloween party!

"Oh my goodness, Marisa! What are you doing?!"

Everything automatically dissolved back to normal, pumpkin number three still sitting on the ground. What am I doing? I'm trying to get this stupid pumpkin in the chart...what do you---wait. Why am I hiding behind the banana stand? Wasn't I just over there a few minutes ago? It's the orange devil's fault! He caused me to commit such actions in public. Can you tell I have a wild imagination?

Quick! Say something before they send you to a insane hospital! "N-n-nothing. Why do you ask Mrs. Foley?" Too many questions asked but left unanswered.

Her hands found their way to her grandma like hips, "You gave me a fright, you did! Runnin' about the place like it was on fire! Screaming! Shouts! Yells!" I wasn't too sure if she was more ticked off or concerned in the incident.

My face redden slightly, avoiding the weirded out gazes of her workers, "Oh. Sorry about that....I have a condition. Can't be outside for long or I'll...begin...seeing things." Of course I'm lying. I just don't want my mother's friend to know that her daughter is completely off her rocker. Mrs. Foley's expression sank, regret glistening in her eyes.

"Hmm....that's strange. Your mother never mentioned you being ill, although, who would want to tell others outside the family their problems? Let's just forget this whole thing happened. Now, would you like someone to carry those pumpkins home with you?"

As much as I urged to say, 'no, thank you.', I went against it. I'm already late, Mom is going to flip out the second I enter the highly decorated house. "Yes, yes please."

Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun. Dun. DUN, DUN! The front door of my house flew open, Mom kneeling on the door frame with pure evilness in her eyes. Foley's workers stopped at the front porch and gently settled the pumpkin devils down. They bid me a soft goodbye, only laughing later because now everyone thinks I'm a whack job.

Mom silently gestured big bro, who was busy jamming away on his heavy metal to get the pumpkins inside. She still hasn't said a word yet. Just stares and stillness. My body was frozen to the spot, unsure where to go, or what to do. Brain failing! Spy tactics unable to cooperate. How long with this continue? How late am I?

"It's been two hours Marisa! You were wandering, weren't you?!"

Cue the ear pulling. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Watch it! Any harder and my hair will fall out! I was in a different place as Mom sat me down, lecturing me about matureness and responsibility. The living room now looked like a scene from the 'oh so' famous movie, "Dracula." Spiders, flies and bats hung from the ceiling while fake blood was scattered all over the hard wooden floors.

She snapped me back to reality, "Marisa?! Are you listening! You won't be able to go to the party if you're not!" Oh lord, anything but that. I walked all the way to the market to get huge pumpkins for pie that I won't be eating?

I flinched, "I'm listening, promise. Just took me awhile to get the pumpkins into the charts..." Bro finally finished piling them into the kitchen, grumbling every chance he got. Dad thinks he is on drugs, I think he's emotionally unstable! (insert creepy laughter here). Mom snapped her fingers, the fire of fury melting my entire soul.

"Alright. Fine. Soon the party is going to start, so you might as well head upstairs and get your costume on." Yay! Can you guess who I'm going to be? No. Not James Bond. NO, not a SPY. Surprising right? I, Marisa, are going as Sherlock Holmes! I have the mustache and all! When Mrs Host of the Halloween bash gave me the magical sign of dismissal, you better bet that the stairs were no competition for slowing me down tonight.

Watson, what have you done?!

Yes. Right there. Freeze. Pose! Wow, I actually look like a dude in this costume! The real Sherlock Holmes would be tickled proud! Sliding the freakishly fake pipe in my mustache infested lips, I took a huff. Aren't bubbles so fun? Downstairs, I hear the sound of small chattering that is gradually growing louder. They're.....here! Mom being Mom is probably yelling at people to use napkins while eating the freshly cut pumpkin pie. Hah, the orange devils got their just desserts!....Get it? Just desserts?...Since they're desserts...?

Big Bro, (who is named Sean by the way) strolled into my room, "Well look at you. What's the special occasion, sister?" He's a kidder.

Adjusting the plaid brown hat nestled on my head, I replied, "In case you didn't know, tonight's Halloween. Where's your costume?"

"I'm too old for costumes.....how old are you again?" His voice noticeably dripped with total sarcasm. Told you....emotionally unstable. Sean should have dressed up as Watson, so that I can smack him over the head repeatedly for being such an idiot.

I rolled my eyes, clutching onto the quarter like eyeglass, "I believe I'm fifteen. A teenager who likes to have fun, unlike you, who sucks the enjoyment out of something until it's bone dry." Oh! Nice comeback, Sherlock Holmes!

Big Bro sighed from frustration, steroid muscles flexing ever so little, "Look. I only came in here to make a deal with you." A deal? (marshmallows would be handy here) What sort of deal? His huge frame towered over my small one, wicked eyes flashing in the electric night.

"And what deal is that?"

"You don't tell Mom that I'm going to sneak out tonight than celebrate the overrated party below us." Gasp! Defying parents?! That's unheard of!

I smiled, "Sure, sure." Sean smirked, attempting to depart from my bedroom, however I held him back with my trench coated arm, "HOWEVER, there's a catch."

Bro glowered, "Catch?"

This is going to be entertaining... "Yes, a catch. I won't tell Mom that you snuck out to make out with a girl, when you don't tell Mom that I took a walk around the cemetery tonight." Success! My elder sibling frowned at my devious plan for the longest of time, "Whatever. Deal." Those two words sealed my fate forever.

Right after Sean ninja(d) his way out of the Halloween party, I made my appearance known. Dad was dressed as the dude from the 'Can you hear me now commercials' while Mom was supporting the old good Lucy from 'Lucccccyyyy! You got some explaining to do!' look. How those two got married and had kids is beyond me. Mr. And Mrs. Foley arrived minutes ago, disguised as the couple from the famous picture, 'American Gothic' (You know, the picture of the old woman and man with an equally ugly house behind them? Not to mention the man was carrying a huge pitch fork....that he later used to brutally murder her wife...just kidding).

"Marisa! Why aren't you a vampire like we discussed?"

Oh Mom, you naïve middle aged woman, no one dresses as the undead anymore! I then continue to glance at my left, only see a real tiny blonde boy hissing at anyone who tried to take a cupcake off a large plate. Okay, with the exception of him. What's the little vampire boy's name again? Toby? Lonny? Hank?

Dad stuffed his face with sprinkled chocolate cookies, "Who are you supposed to be, honey?" Adults no nothing of Sherlock Holmes!

"I'm Sherlock Holmes! Remember the video you rented a few weeks ago? That's the guy." I swear, Dad has short term memory loss. Sadly, Mom doesn't. Life would have been easy as..pumpkin pie. Speaking that pizza like pie, where are they?

Mom saw my confused attire, "The Thomspon's kid ate it all. Do you believe it? Tommy? I'm not sure what his name is, all I know is that pumpkin pie is going to end up in the toilet tomorrow morning." Who knew vampires love pumpkin pie? Spies sure do.

Laughing at Lucy's (Mom) joke, I grabbed a few pudding snacks before Tommy/Toby/Lonny/Hank hissed me to oblivion. Why am I so alarmed by a small barely in the double digits boy with paper fangs? The answer is simple, really, most spies have a weak spot, just below the knee. That weak spot I shamelessly carry around. It could only take one thing to set off the vampire boy, causing me to (in slow motion) to drop to the floor of complete darkness and despair....going a little too far?

Dad buried his phone fashioned phone in his back pocket, "Why are you hanging out with your old parents? Where's your friends?" The friends that I make up you mean? Oh they're busy.

Mom whispered in his ear, "She doesn't have any...yet!"

He made an 'O' shape with his lips, then busied himself with the extra extra hot chicken wings at a table nearby. I'm just happy that she remembered to add in the 'yet' part. It gave me hope.

I nervously looked around, trying to find an excuse to make my exit, "Uh---I gotta go check to see if the Scream Machine is working outside." My parents nodded, obviously getting into the tacky Halloween music.

It was like the scene was put on mute, the only sound I could hear was my own rapid heart beat and steady footsteps. Oh lord, oh lord, oh lord. I'm leaving. No. I'm escaping to go to the cemetery no doubt! What strikes me odd is why Mom and Dad aren't in the least suspicious, seeing as I pulled many tricks that would result me ending up in the creepy crawler grasslands. The front door stood tall, dreamy light peeking out of the cracks and corners. It's welcoming me. Heaven.

Hand reaches for door handle, hand trembles doing so. Metal hits skin, the knob is now drenched in my tense sweat. Muscles turn the handle, arm swings the hunk of black wood back. The cool breeze wraps it's skinny arms around my trench coat hem, pulling me into the mass night. I jump when the door slams behind me, Scream Machine going off like a madman. What's a Scream Machine you ask? It's a awesome outside Halloween decoration that starts screaming by physical motion. Whenever trick or treaters come to steal our goods, one always rushes home with pee in their pants.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!"

What seemed like thousands of little kids in either princess or spider-man costumes buzzed past me, grubby hands inching towards the chopped off head candy bowl.


One pink princess dropped her 'Hello Kitty' bag and dived into a rose bush. Told you. Last year Sean and I videotaped the whole thing. I'll just say that our sidewalk was damp for a week after that. Alright! Back to my main goal! Dah! Dah! Tadah! Waston! The cemetery awaits!

Maybe I should have brought a flashlight. Here I am, dragging my long trench coat along as I neared the big familiar gates. Many questions are bouncing around my noggin, like for example, 'What will I find there?' and 'Could I possibly get caught, handcuffed and roughly thrown into a jail cell?' Who cares. All that matters is I'm going into the cemetery!

Hand reached out and lightly grasped the iron gate----do I really need to describe my actions of opening a door way again? No? Okay. I entered the cemetery, smiling. That's new, mostly people are frowning when they're here...unless their mother in law died. Absolute stone met Dad's old business shoes. Boulders, rocks and tombstones surrounded me, almost prisoning me. Cool. Add in random unnecessary smoke and we got a movie in the making!

"Hello? Anybody there?" My voice echoed across the sky.

Well, really, that was dumb. No one would be in a cemetery....living that is. I doubt zombies would pop out of their resting place just to give me a 'hello'. Walking further into the ancient land, I came across a rather large tomb with strange statues hanging from it. Dare I go in?


Oh hell no.

A spy knows when to back off, ya know. This is definitely the time to do so. We have two options now. A: Keep exploring the cemetery, pretending that nothing had happened or B: Run for your life. I think I'm going to choose A just to keep this experience interesting. The moon shined it's beautiful rays at the never ending plains. Isn't there supposed to be a keeper around here? Ah well, the better for me, I guess! Each and every tombstone was neatly engraved on, all were perfectly lined in dozens of rows. These names are so old.....Frederick? Freda? No one uses those names anymore! That comes to show on how many years ago some of these lost people have died. Finally, I came to rest at a stone which clearly and surprisingly read,

Here lies Rudolph Sackville-Bagg

Son of a lord

Friend to even a foe

Gone but never forgotten

The Angel to our prayers

Aw, that's sweet. It almost makes me forget that the dude was named Rudolph. I'm sorry, but honestly? What were these William Shakespearian citizens thinking?! Wait---wait just a second! Why is this grave dung upon? My brain started to spin, oh please, oh please, don't PASS out. Spies don't do that kind of action! The keeper could have moved his body to another location! Or perhaps after a few couple hundred years they remove the bones and put it in a dumpster!

"Excuse me? I was simply wondering why you are having a panic attack over my grave.." A soft voice behind me recalled the sudden tale.

I quickly turned around, knocking off my hat and fake eyeglass, "I'm sorry! For practically dying on your grave that is! What am I saying! You can't be dead! This can't be your grave! You wouldn't be in front of me if it was!" Continue of mindless rambling.

The deadly (that's not ironic at all) pale boy stared at me with ruby caring eyes, "Ease yourself, human. I did not mean to frighten you. Now tell me, what is a mortal doing outside on these hours?" By now, I quit the stupid stream of slurness and examined the boy. He looks the age of sixteen, about four inches taller than me. Handsome. Amazingly handsome.

"Oh. I wanted to come in here for awhile now....so I did." Thank you Captain Obvious.

Rudolph (according to the grave) smiled, I melted, "You are very strange, mortal. First you walk in here dressed like a lad, then you nearly pass out on my grave! Do you mind taking that mustache off? So I can see the real you."

His request made me blush, so as quick as possible I ripped off the taped on patch of fur. There wasn't any pain....yet, however I'll worry about that when I get out alive. Rudolph's kind smile widened, edging closer.

"You are very striking."

"Uh...thanks? I think."

The dead boy chuckled amongst himself, shaking his head a moment later, "Ah...yes. Since you are mortal, you don't have the knowledge of my language. Please inform me if I say something you do not understand." I feel like I'm in a special ed class.

I hesitantly leaned on Rudolph's resting area, "Okay....so you're a vampire?" Oh my god, YES OF COURSE HE'S A VAMPIRE MARISA! What happens to the graceful spy who isn't afraid of anything. I am now a puddle in his cold hands.

"Yes, yes I am. Although I wish I wasn't. Being a creature of the night isn't as much as it cuts out to be." Rudolph sadly answered, as if he thought it was a utter curse. "Now what are you?"

"What am I?"

"You asked me if I was a vampire, so I confirmed that question. I ask what you are and must confirm my question."

I tried to laugh it off as if I knew what he was talking about in the first place, however it's like blood red eyes could see through all that, "I'm a human.......and a spy." Would the vampire really believe that? He should, because what normal girl would skip into a cemetery at the dead of night if she wasn't a spy?

Rudolph thought this new information over, "Are you really? I have never met a spy in my mortal life, come to think of it, I never met a spy in my immortal life either!" Yay! He's excited!

Watching him walk around tombstones, I posed another question, "Why do you live in a cemetery? Of all places? Usually vampires live in.....trees or something and prey on the living." My body froze, wait, he never stated that he doesn't drink human blood. I'm screwed.

"My family and I were buried on these grounds three centuries ago. No one dares to come in, so we decided to hide out here. We do not wish to eat mortals, we want to become human." Rudolph traced his long fingers on dead stone. Oh thank God! I'm not gonna die, I'm not gonna die!

"Well---that's good." I held back my joy from this tragic past.

Rudolph glanced back at me, "Do you want to go somewhere?" Huh? What has gotten the attention of my ears? 'Go somewhere?' Doesn't that mean 'take you out?' A vampire is asking me out? We barely know each other! Then again, 'go somewhere' in his language, could translate 'can you please leave now?'

I picked up my hat and eye glass from the cemetery floor, "Where?"

Suddenly, the handsome vampire was at my side, his hand gripping my free one. Woah. I am not trained for this kind of physical contact yet. A smile spread across his flawless face, revealing long pointy fangs. I found myself following him as Rudolph lead me to the huge tomb that scared me earlier.

"Mortal, do you have a name?"

"It's Marisa." I'm surprised my voice is still functioning at this point.

Rudolph's grasp tightened, us getting closer to the tomb, "That's a beautiful name. As you may know, my name is Rudolph. I want to compose a request of you, considering how you are a spy."

I gulped, hoping for the best, "And what request is that?"

"Would you like to go spy on my older brother Gregory?"

It's like the heavens were calling down to me, rewarding me for my bravery to actually escape from the Halloween bash and into the mysterious cemetery. Now there's a vampire staring at me with intense eyes, wanting to do one of my favorite pass times. Honestly, what do you think my answer will be?

Huffing a few bubbles from my fake pipe, I grinned, "Of course, young chap. Let's go."

A/N: Yay! The requested Rudolph Sackville-Bagg OneShot by cocobeforechanel is finished! I hope she enjoys it as much as everyone else! I need to apologize for the lack of my updating, seeing as my mother went into surgery recently, I have to take care of her for three months. Don't worry, I'll be writing again! So now, my fellow readers, here's your job. You must click the review button and leave some treats. Maybe pumpkin pie for example?