It was a car accident that ended the life of Vixen.  One moment she had been sitting in a dark, smoky bar and the next she was laying dead on the streets.  Her life had been eventful.  She was what they called a playgirl—the type of woman who enjoyed the company of men. 

A raven-haired beauty, her looks were what some men called smoldering.  She favored black leather and satin made to show off a figure most women would envy.  Vixen had few women friends.  Most who claimed to be her friend only did so because of the number of men that surrounded her and Vixen didn’t mind sharing.  When she was done with a man, she moved on and scarcely remembered his name.  That is until Walter Abrams came along. 

 Abrams was different from the rest of Vixen’s lovers—he was an intellect.    He was an electronics and computer expert who liked to invent things.  His hobby was cryptography.  Abrams taught at a university in his spare time, but he hardly needed the money—his father had left him a sizable fortune when he had died ten years ago. 

Vixen had never known an intellectual so she fell hard for Abrams, listening to him talk for hours at a time.  And he liked to talk.  With her photographic memory, Vixen could almost remember every word he spoke, but now she lay dead in the street and Abrams had disappeared.

Chapter 2

April sat staring at Waverly in UNCLE headquarters.  The old man had summoned her early in the day.  Now she was in his office along with Napoleon and the old man had made a request of her.  “I want you to impersonate Vixen.  No, I want you to become Vixen.”

“How is that possible, Mr. Waverly.  Although I admit April bears a strong resemblance to Vixen, anyone who knows Vixen wouldn’t be fooled.” Napoleon said.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Solo.  With the right hair color and makeup, April could fool even the most discerning individual.  We have ascertained the whereabouts of Abrams.  He is currently living on a private island.”

“Surely, he will notice my voice is different, my mannerisms,” April added.

“That will be taken care of.  I’ve hired a coach who was an acquaintance of Miss McCall.  He is willing to coach you on some of her finer details.”

April took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  She had read Vixen’s dossier that morning.   It was going to be a challenge to become Vixen.  The woman was so different from April. 

Waverly had Vixen’s photograph displayed on the large screen in his office. Vixen was posed in a skin-tight black satin gown.  She was a seductress with her smoldering dark eyes and a sexy pout that would melt any man she came in contact with.    She was a playgirl who had slept her way through most of America’s high society and was on her way to Europe.  April wondered how she could ever impersonate a woman like that.  April was quiet and reserved by comparison.  It was a fact that she hid from everyone but those closest to her.  April had been reared by strict parents and attended Catholic schools for most of her childhood.  The fact that she had chosen to become a spy had presented problems for her in the past whenever she was required to pretend to be women that would surely have reddened the faces of most nuns.  Still, acting lessons had made it easier.

April straightened in her seat and locked eyes with Napoleon.  She could tell he didn’t want her to do it.  “Are you asking me to sleep with Abrams, sir?”

“I would never presume to request that of any agent, Miss Dancer.”  The old man cleared his throat and continued,   “It is imperative that UNCLE gets that key.  Our intelligence has indicated the key is locked in a safe on his island estate.  We will need to ascertain exactly where it is held on that estate and get it.  This key could prove invaluable in our endeavour to rid the world of Thrush.”

“Is Abrams a member of Thrush?” Napoleon asked.

“No, Mr. Solo,”

“Then why can’t we simply ask for it, sir? 

“Have done and Mr. Abrams gracefully declined.  He does not want to be involved in our ‘little war’.  His words, not mine.  He merely broke the code to prove that he could do so.”

“That brings up another point.  How did Abrams get the code in the first place?” Solo asked.

“Mister Abrahams has friends who are members of Thrush.  He apparently received the code from one of them during a…shall I say… moment of inebriation.  And that is where Vixen comes in.”  The old man cleared his throat and stood before the screen with Vixen’s picture.

“Miss McCall had a photographic memory and Mr. Abrams bragged to her when he discovered the key to the code.  He told her how he broke the code.  Miss McCall contacted us when she realized the type of information he had.  Unfortunately, her life ended at the hands of a drunk driver.”

Solo looked intently at Waverly as the old man lit his pipe.  The smoke swirled into the air and wafted across the room.

“Her death.  Are you sure it was a drunk driver?” Solo asked.

“Quite.  We’ve had it checked,” Waverly answered.

 “So young,” April said absently, looking at the picture of Vixen.

“Yes.  Most unfortunate.”

April brought her attention back to Waverly.   “Sir, how do you expect me to spend time with Abrams without compromising myself?”  April asked.

Waverly inhaled deeply and let the smoke out slowly as he spoke.  “Simple.  Your feminine charms will not be necessary in this case, Miss Dancer.  Their relationship was not sexual.  In fact, Miss McCall had numerous lovers at the time she was seeing Abrams.  She was even known to bring her lovers to stay with him in his many homes.”

Napoleon cleared his throat.  “And the fact that Miss McCall had lovers was of no concern to Abrams?”

“Precisely, Mr. Solo.  My intelligence indicates that he has many cameras throughout each of his estates.  I daresay  he sought his entertainment in that way.  Miss McCall did not appear to have a problem with this arrangement.”

Napoleon looked at the dark-haired beauty on the screen.  “I find that hard to believe, sir.  What man could resist a woman like that?”

“This man, Mr. Solo.  And that’s all we’re interested in.”

The room was silent as April contemplated her decision.  The old man said he would not force her to take the assignment.  Yet, who else could pretend to be Vixen.  Her resemblance to the dark-haired woman was uncanny.  They looked like twins. 

“I’ll do it, sir.”

Chapter 3

April was enjoying the weekend at the Victorian house Solo had purchased the previous t year.  Both agents considered the house a second home—a place to get away from the harsh life they lead.  April needed the break before becoming someone else.  Both knew it was going to be a difficult job.  Abrahms was an intelligent man.  In order to convince him that she was Vixen, she would have to be very convincing.

The old man had decided to assign Solo as Vixen’s current lover.  Solo had refused the offer at first, explaining to Waverly the difficulties of successfully pretending to be the lover of a woman he considered family. Waverley had made it clear that Solo and Dancer’s personal relationship was of no importance.  Indeed, he expressed his disdain for personal relationships between agents.  In the end, Waverly had made it an order and Solo had reluctantly agreed.

Now, both agents sat holding hands as they watched the sunset—its yellow-orange colors casting a haze across the town of OakWood.  Anyone witnessing the two agents on the porch would have thought them lovers, but they merely sought the comforting touch of the other.  This assignment made them nervous as no other had in the past.  Solo was aware that the woman who sat next to him was a shy reserved lady who only pretended to be the outward super spy everyone expected her to be.  The strain of that role was sometimes insurmountable.  She was the first female agent and all eyes were on her. 

“I don’t like it April.  I don’t like you having to go undercover like this.  I’ve done it.  I know how deep you can go, until you can barely find yourself.”

April grasped Napoleon hands tighter.  “I know, but you won’t let me.”   April said this with a tone that left no room for argument.

Napoleon relaxed into the swing, his eyes intently looking at the sunset.  “How am I going to pretend to be your lover?  You’re my best friend, family.”  He said slowly.

“And that will never change.” April added, snuggling closer to him.  Napoleon put his arms around her.   “Napoleon, the person I am going to become will be different from the woman you know.  You’ll be able to pretend because I won’t be April.  You’ll react to me as if I’m Vixen.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Napoleon said.

“You will.  You’re the consummate professional and I need you.  I feel...I feel…that I’ll get lost in this one.  I may need for you to bring me back,” April said quietly.

Napoleon could feel the tension in her body.

“Turn around,” Napoleon ordered. 

April hesitated.  “Come on.  Turn around.  You’re tense,” Napoleon insisted.

April turned and Napoleon proceeded to massage her neck.  He spoke soothingly.  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

April relaxed into Napoleon, his arms surrounding her.  They stayed that way until the sun disappeared and the silver moon took its place.

Chapter 4

“No.  No.  No.  You got it wrong again.  She slinked, not stumped.  Here let me show you.”

Roy Coxton walked across April’s office with a feminine gait.  He had been hired by Waverly to instruct April on the ways of Vixen.  He had been acquainted with Vixen for a number of years, but not as a lover as originally thought.  Instead, he was her close confidant and fashion designer. 

Roy Coxton was a flamboyant man with his bright red shirt and green pants.  He had a high forehead, silver-gold hair and a nose that resembled a beak.  Roy was a man of high principles. He literally believed in the betterment of man and saw UNCLE as the only way of achieving it.  He was gratified when UNCLE asked his assistance in obtaining the key. 

April stood up and mimicked the way Coxton walked.  She did it badly and he let her know it in no uncertain terms.

“Come now.  This won’t do.  Watch me.  Watch me,” he shouted.

“I am watching you.  I’ve been watching you for the past two weeks.  I can’t do it.  I can’t” April shouted, sitting down heavily in her chair.

“Well, you must.  Abrams is not a fool, dear.”  Coxton’s face was red with anger.

“Well, I just want to go home and get some rest. That’s all.” April shouted back. 

She had never been so tired of trying to be Vixen.  She was tired of hearing how Vixen lived.  How Vixen fixed her hair.  How Vixen changed her name from Mary Margaret because it reminded her of a nun and she was certainly no nun.  But most of all, April was tired of not being herself and she was a dismal failure at becoming Vixen.  Two weeks and she still sounded like April.  She still walked like April.  She was just April and nothing so far had changed that.  Waverly had expressed his disappointment even suggesting that she may have been intentionally avoiding the assignment. 

As if on cue, Napoleon arrived.  “I’m here to rescue you, fair lady.” He said gallantly offering his arm. 

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” April replied smiling as she stood.

“Then my carriage awaits.”  Napoleon said as April walked towards him.

“Wait a minute.  What’s all this talk about carriages?  We’ve got hours to go.  Weeks by the looks of her.  So far the only thing that resembles Vixen is the dyed black hair.  No, tell your carriage to go.” Coxton insisted.

Napoleon stepped forward, his eyes steely.  Coxton took an involuntary step backwards, then spoke quietly, “I…I…didn’t mean to offend.  By all means, she needs a break...”

Napoleon broke into a broad smile. “I thought you would see it my way.”

He and April left the gymnasium arm in arm.