GREEN
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2412 13.79 KB 267
2412 13.79 KB 267
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Originally uploaded to Pastebin: April 10th, 2016
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"Ma'am, I'm in position."
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>"Excellent work, Agent Sweetie Drops. You are to observe the target."
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>Nodding, you pull a pair of binoculars over your eyes.
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>The house before you comes into focus, and you scan it a bit before settling over the one window with a light in it.
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>The curtains are also open.
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>You watch intently as the target drifts into your sight.
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>He's tall, bipedal, and totally alien to you.
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>Before you can even process your thoughts, you're already checking his body over for potential weak spots.
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>Areas to abuse to inflict the most damage with the least effort.
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>Possible strengths he might have.
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>Reach? Certainly.
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>His arms look strong, you should avoid them if you can.
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>And his legs...
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>You grimace.
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>Long. Almost as long as your entire body.
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>He has superior range with those, and they look sturdy.
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>It'll be hard to bring him down in a straight up fight, he looks robust enough to throw down with some of the best agents in the bureau.
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>Perhaps you should wear him down? Maybe stamina is his--
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>"Agent Sweetie Drops?"
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>You lower the binoculars and put a hoof to your ear.
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"I read you, ma'am, I have a visual on the target."
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>"Then you are to proceed into the house."
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"Understood."
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>Stashing the binoculars under a pile of leaves, you silently depart from your position on the plateau behind the target's house.
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>You're like a phantom as you swim through the shadows cast by the luminance of the moon.
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>A distant noise has you diving into a bush just by his back door.
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"I'm in position, Ma'am. Confirm entry?"
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>"Confirmed. Take care, agent. We don't know a whole lot about this one, so play it safe."
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"Yes, ma'am."
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>You check to make sure the coast is clear, then dive for the back door.
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>Flattening yourself against the wall, you take out a lock-picking kit and get to work.
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>It takes a few moments, but eventually a gentle 'click' can be heard within the mechanism.
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>Slowly turning the handle, you push the door open with all the force of a summer breeze.
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>Mercifully, it doesn't squeak.
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>The house is dark.
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>All you can see is what the light outside can show you.
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>You run your tongue across your teeth and narrow your eyes, muscles tensed.
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>With a careful step, you cross the threshold.
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>Silence.
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>An all-permeating silence grips the house.
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>It's almost intensified once you quietly shut the door behind you, blocking out what little ambient sounds had followed you in.
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>A grandfather clock lies dormant next to you, its pendulum at rest.
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>Possibly a sign of a lazy person?
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>Your target might be sloppy in his actions.
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>Such clues are vital to your work, and you keep an eye out for others.
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>A crooked picture frame.
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>Some discarded shoes.
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>One dirty sock lying on its own in the corner.
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>You note it all, mentally assembling your portfolio on your target.
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>Seems he might not be such a great threat.
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>A greater sense of confidence fills you at this.
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>You stride forward, your steps more bold, but still quite hesitant.
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>As you step into the kitchen, a floorboard gives off a load creak.
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>You freeze.
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>Your fur stands on its end.
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>A hundred escape plans rush through your mind.
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>They're all subdued in favour of calmness.
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>You silently suck in a deep breath, slowing your heart-rate.
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>Whatever comes will come, and you'll deal with it accordingly, just as you always have.
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>The voice of your commander causes you to flinch.
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>"Agent Sweetie Drops, what's your status?"
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>Checking all your corners, you duck back into the living room, crouch behind an armchair, and whisper in a barely audible voice.
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"I'm in. No sign of the target. On the lower floor of the house. Target is assumed to still be on the second floor."
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>"Do not engage. This is a scouting mission."
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"Understood, ma'am."
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>"If you rouse suspicion, pacify the target."
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"...Understood."
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>"Look for anything of interest, we need to get as much information on this thing as we can before we plan future operations."
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>You acknowledge her words and get back to snooping.
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>A cautionary glance over the chair you're hidden behind, and you're on your hooves.
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>Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the house, and your ears prick up at every sound, from the slightest creak of a floorboard to the methodical dripping of a kitchen tap.
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>Your eyes fall on a set of spiral stairs.
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>A hint of light is visible at the foot of them.
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>Mustering your courage, you begin to ascend.
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>Your ears catch the faint sounds of a voice.
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>Singing.
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>You pause and listen.
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>The target is singing a recent chart-hit.
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>Badly.
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>You note that poor singing is often the sign of a lack of commitment, and an unwillingness to master a skill.
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>Or it's the sign of someone who's tone-deaf.
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>You ignore it and look around the landing.
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>There are only 3 doors available to you, so you pick the one farthest from the noise.
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>Silently drift into it, closing the door behind you.
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>A bedroom?
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>Excellent.
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>You immediately head for a large chest of drawers and begin sifting through the haphazardly strewn socks and underwear.
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>No hidden boxes or documents beneath them, unfortunately.
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>"Agent, report."
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>You place a hoof to your ear and use the other to continue searching.
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"I'm in the target's bedroom. Checking his belongings now."
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>"Anything so far?"
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"Just socks, ma'am."
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>"Take one."
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"...Ma'am?"
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>"We might... need one. For data."
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>You frown, but don't voice your objections, and pocket a single white sock.
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>"What else can you see?"
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"I see a cupboard, heading for that next."
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>"And the target?"
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"I've yet to encounter him. He is in another room."
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>"Do you have a visual confirmation on what he's doing?"
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"Singing."
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>"Do you have an audio confirmation on the song?"
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"...'Keep Me Warm' by Razzle Dazzle, ma'am."
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>"So he likes Razzle Dazzle, excellent. Good work, agent."
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>You roll your eyes and open his closet.
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>And promptly step back, your eyes widening.
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"Ma'am, we have a problem."
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>"Report."
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"He's stockpiling weapons."
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>"What sort?"
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"Spears, axes, daggers, it's a whole armoury in here."
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>"Anything else?"
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"Just a few photographs of him with various Ponyvillians, but these weapons are--"
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>"We need those photographs, agent."
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"Ma'am?"
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>"The photographs. Take the photographs."
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"I... yes, ma'am."
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>You place the photographs in your satchel next to the sock.
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>"Do you have the--"
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"I have the photographs, yes."
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>"Good work, agent."
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"The weapons, ma'am?"
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>"Oh yes, we'll deal with those later, keep looking for other objects of interest."
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>You suppress a sigh and move to the bed, crouching down and looking under it.
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>A small box looks back at you.
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"Hello there..."
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>Gently pull it out and open the simple latch on the front.
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>Once again, your fur stands on end.
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"Ma'am, more... weaponry."
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>"What sort?"
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"Poisons, various magical trinkets and single-use gadgets."
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>You nervously size up a brutal looking garrote wound up in the corner of the box.
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"These are assassination tools, ma'am, and... oh no."
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>"Agent Sweetie Drops?"
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"There's a picture of the Mayor here, ma'am. I think he's targeting the Mayor. There's a sheet of parchment in here documenting her routine. Celestia, this is worse than we thought."
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>"Agent, you are to return the box to where you found it, do not touch anything in it."
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"Understood."
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>Placing the box -exactly- where you pulled it out from, you exit the bedroom, immediately moving to the next room.
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>Your steps are becoming more urgent.
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>Perhaps the mess downstairs was a ploy? A cover to mislead you and others about the target's habits?
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>It's possible you're dealing with a professional contract killer.
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>Pushing open the door into the second room, you wrinkle your nose.
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"Investigated the second room, ma'am."
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>"Anything of note?"
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"Just a laundry room, there's--"
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>"Good work, agent, are there any undergarments there?"
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"Ma'am I... I can't see the strategic value in a pair of dirty undergarments."
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>"Our boys in the lab do. We need some undergarments, agent."
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>You glare as you stuff a pair of dirty underwear in your satchel.
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"Undergarments... secure."
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>"Excellent, return to base."
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>You blink.
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"Ma'am?"
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>"There's nothing else I- we need, we have what we came for. You are to abort and return to base with the items you've collected."
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"...Yes ma'am, but what about the weapons? The poisons? The mayor?"
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>"As I said, we'll deal with it. Just make sure you get those items back safely."
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"Yes, ma'am."
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>You poke your head out of the laundry room, checking for the singing.
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>It's stopped.
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>Dread grips you.
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>Slowly step back into the laundry room and close the door.
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>As soon as you do, you hear the squeak of door hinges, a great yawn, and footsteps.
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>Alarmed, you hurriedly cover yourself with a towel and stuff yourself in a corner.
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>Heavy footfalls stop outside your hiding spot.
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>You hear mumbling and further yawning.
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>The door to the laundry room is thrown open, and the light turned on.
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>You can see the light through the towel, but nothing else.
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>A shadow moves into the room.
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>"Why the hell do I even -have- a laundry room? It's not like I need it..."
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>The target looms over you, you can tell by the size of the shadow being cast on you.
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>He's bigger than you thought he'd be.
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>"Christ, where's the towel?"
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>Your heart is in your mouth.
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>"Ah, there."
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>Tense up, your breathing all but stopped.
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>But nothing happens.
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>Instead, the shadow jiggles around a bit more and turns off the light.
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>Then the door slams shut.
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>You hold your breath for a good minute, listening to the footsteps proceed down the hallway towards the bedroom.
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>Exhale as quietly as you can, and slide the towel off.
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>You move to the door and place your ear to it, listening for signs of movement.
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>Another door shuts with a bang.
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>The bedroom?
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>You can only hope.
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>"Agent, come in."
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>Trying not to jump, you place a steady hoof to your ear, wetting your lips before hissing in reply.
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"Yes, ma'am?"
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>"Change of plans. We need you to find a bathroom."
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>An involuntary shiver rocks your body.
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"W-why-- yes... ma'am."
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>"Once there, you're looking for anything of value."
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"With respect, ma'am, why would anything of value be in a bathroom?"
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>"We need his DNA."
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"But we know who he is and what he looks like, it seems... unnecessary."
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>"Agent, you have your orders, carry them out."
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>You suppress a squeal of frustration and open the door to the hallway.
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>Thankfully, your target is rather loud, so you can hear him moving around and talking to himself in his room.
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>Like a mouse, you zip out of the laundry room and towards the room he had just exited.
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>Unsurprisingly, you find yourself in a bathroom.
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"Okay... ooookay... just a toothbrush should do..."
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>Bingo, there's one on the side of the faucet.
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>You grab it and stuff it in your satchel next to the other questionable inventory.
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>You're about to turn to leave when the door swings open.
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>"Fucking knew I'd left--"
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>...
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>You gulp and slowly face your target.
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>He's huge.
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>The human towers over you, his face a picture of bewilderment.
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>"...What the hell...?"
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>Before he can take his hand off the door-handle, you sucker punch him.
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>He stumbles back into the hallway, clutching his jaw.
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>Ducking low, you swipe at his legs with one of your own.
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>He stumbles and goes down hard, the whole house shaking from the force of his back hitting the floorboards.
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>You hear the wind get knocked out of him.
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>As he gasps, you leap over his fallen body and rush for the stairs.
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"MA'AM, THE MISSION'S BEEN COMPROMISED!"
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>You hear genuine panic on the other end.
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>"Sweet Celestia-- Sweetie Drops, get out of there!"
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>"Give me back my toothbrush you fuckin' weirdo!"
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>A hand grips your back leg and yanks you backwards.
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>You barely have time to register the shock in regard to his reach before you're face-to-face with him again.
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>His hand goes straight for your satchel, but you slap a hoof over it.
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>For a moment the pair of you struggle, the human trying to get to your 'precious cargo' whilst attempting to pin you at the same time, and you squirming to get out from under him.
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>"The f-- just give me my toothbrush back! What the fuck! Who -does- this kind of thing?!"
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"C-can the act, human, I know about the plot to assassinate the mayor!"
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>"What--"
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>You clout him in the face with a hoof.
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>He yelps and momentarily lets go of you.
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>Roll out from under him and gallop to the stairs again.
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>Before you leave, you turn to face him one last time.
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"I'll stop you, human. Mark my words, I'll stop you."
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>He can only groan and nurse his bloody nose as you disappear into the night.
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"Agent Sweetie Drops, reporting, ma'am."
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>Your boss breathes a huge sigh of relief as you enter her office.
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>"Good work out there, agent. You had us all worried here for a second."
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"Nothing I couldn't handle, ma'am."
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>"Did you return with the items of interest?"
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"Oh, uh, yes, I did."
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>You empty out your satchel onto her desk.
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>Photographs of the target, a clean sock, some dirty underwear, and a used, still-wet toothbrush, fall before her.
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>She places her hooves together and smiles.
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>"Yes. These will do. You may leave now, agent. I must, uh, study them at length."
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"And the Mayor, ma'am?"
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>"What?"
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"The Mayor of Ponyville. We have reason to believe--"
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>"Oh yes that, that'll be sorted out, agent, please trust me on this."
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"...I don't know, Miss Heartstrings. Sometimes I wonder about our motivations regarding the target."
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>"Sweetie Drops, honestly, when have I ever let you down?"
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"...I understand, ma'am, I'm sorry for speaking out of turn."
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>"All is forgiven. Now go, oh, and uh..."
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>She gives you a big, questionable smile.
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>"Shut the door on your way out."
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>With a nod, you exit her office.
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>You hear frenzied hoofsteps behind the door and the lock quickly being turned.
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>Despite this, you give yourself a pat on the back for a job well done.
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>Now you just need to let the bureau take care of the rest.
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>Two days later, Mayor Mare was found dead in her office having been garroted.
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>Fucking Bureau.
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The End
by Nebulus
by Nebulus
by Nebulus
by Nebulus