Intelligence on the suspects has been extremely difficult to gather. This paper contains the sum total of our knowledge on these two master spies.

Allison "Athena" Banister

Raised by wolves in the wilds of Pennsylvania, Banister's cruel streak showed itself early when she forced her family to watch "the Princess Bride" and listen to the soundtrack of "Les Miserables" until they begged for mercy.

She learned the arts of espionage at Springside School in Philadelphia, apprenticing herself to such masters as Deborah "the Detonator" Dempsey and Scott "the Spy" Stein, as well as Master of Disguise Roland Woehr. She mastered such useful foreign languages as French and Latin, learning useful French phrases such as "hide the bodies." Aiding her in her double life were Melissa Spinelli Bullitt, Fran Northcutt, Abby Elias, and Miriam Schmidt, all of whom are still suspected of serving as accomplices.

She continued her study of languages in college, learning Ancient Greek just in case she ever needed to interrogate Homer. Banister became a member of the Yale Glee Club, using the frequent tours of the Yale Glee Club as cover as she travelled to exotic locations to collect intelligence. Her skill at subterfuge is evidenced by the length of time she managed to deceive the Glee Club organization into believing that she was a soprano.

She devoted her leisure time to honing her reflexes razor-sharp through judicious use of caffeine and developing her skills at subterfuge by playing Live Action Roleplaying Games. Many opportunities opened up to Banister when she joined a small computer company after graduation, refining her technical skills and adding the deadly Poetry Slam and devastating Dale Carnegie Attack to her already-formidable arsenal. She is now believed to be operating out of Boston, where she has joined forces with her fiance to form a devastating duo of espionage.

John "Diehard" Corbett

Corbett is believed to have gotten his first taste of adventure in West Virginia. A poor raft guide by day, by night he moonlighted as the mysterious vigilante known as Dr. Hydraulic, stealing from the rich and giving extra-large tips to the other guides, aided by his faithful sidekick Shadow Viking Tiger Claw.

Already legendary is Corbett's mysterious escape from the New York City police department. Operating on an tip from an informer solely identified as "Gooey," several units of the NYPD managed to corner Corbett atop the George Washington Bridge, threatening to force him to pay the traffic tickets he incurred while employed as a bike messenger. Corbett leapt from the bridge into the icy December waters of the Hudson River and was believed drowned. However, recent intelligence has revealed that Corbett is still alive and well, having used the reports of his own death to relocate to Boston when things got too hot in NYC. Forensic investigations have revealed faint marks on the underside of the bridge, which authorities believe are the marks left by the rappelling wire from Corbett's utility belt. Corbett appears to have hitched a ride on a passing freighter to complete his escape from the police.

A master of disguise, Corbett honed his espionage skills while acting as a double agent at CompUSA, where he learned to completely alter his appearance simply by putting on a polo shirt with a different computer company's logo. Corbett is known for his love of fast cars, firearms, extreme sports, and loose women. In fact, it is rumored that it was he who drafted the original designs for the famous automaton known as Shania Twain.

Corbett's primary weapons are Microsoft Word and Visio, and it is whispered that he can cold-bloodedly identify and eliminate extraneous customer touchpoints faster than any other operative.

Other Documentation

Our operatives were extremely lucky to uncover the following account of the suspects' meeting, in their own words. Although the details may be apocryphal, the story yields invaluable insight into the subjects' mindsets.

It was another one of those days. Outside, the rain poured down from sepia-toned skies. Inside, it was about as active as an enterprise storage convention. I hadn't had a case for days.

As I took a long, slow drag on my cigar, he walked through the door. It was then that I knew my luck was about to change.

"I have a case for you, ma'am" he said, tipping his fedora to me. Rain poured off his long, dark trenchcoat and pooled on the linoleum floor of my office.

"Oh yeah?" I said, looking him up and down. He was tall, I'd give him that--but I had seen tall men before. "And what's in it for me?"

"I think I can make it worth your while," he said, his blue eyes glinting from beneath the brim of his hat.

"I don't care about your promises, mister," I said, playing it cool. "Only your money."