//------------------------------//
// The Exposition Chapter 
// Story: Mission: Improbable 
// by The card holder 
//------------------------------//

The Spy had just finished disposing of the changeling's corpse. It was quite brittle, actually, making hiding it all the easier. This wasn't the first time he had seen them, nor was it the first time he disposed of one. It was, however, the first time one attacked him. 

Leaving the trash can, he looks to the fake corpse of 'Lyra', which was nearly faded away. He had arrived in Equestria a couple of months ago, in an incident involving a teleporter, jarate, the Engineer's Pomson 6000, and a Medic who thought it would be a great idea to uber a Spy. Since then, he had lived right under the ponies' noses. To his knowledge, the only ones who knew about him were the changelings he disposed of, and he plans to keep it that way.

Confident that nothing else would come up, the Spy set up the stairs, heading to Lyra's room. She was currently away in Canterlot, about to play for the Gala; the very same Gala that Bon-Bon thought she was practicing for now. It wasn't easy making sure that news of the real Lyra leaving never spread, but he was rewarded with a disguise that was guaranteed to not draw suspicion, at least for one more day. He didn't want to kill any of the ponies (after all, they were still civilians), he just wanted to find a way back home. So far, however, he had no luck. 

Entering Lyra's room, the Frenchman went straight to where the unicorn kept her stash of various pieces of information, both gathered and created, on humans. The Spy had thought it was strange when he first found them, but now he sees it as amusing. Grabbed a book with a faded brown cover, he opened it to the first page. After reading some, he found out that this was a personal journal that Lyra kept. It had the usual reports of things happening to her, as well as the less usual notes on humans, and her theories on them. They were surprisingly close to reality, the Spy noted, but still was a bit off on key things. Near the end, he found what appeared to be a sketch of a human hand. Comparing it to his own, it was rather lumpy and disproportionate. Turning another page, he finds the most recent entry:

I can't believe I was chosen to play at the Gala! This is very good news, and I hope to do my best there. I won't be bringing this journal with me, for a couple of reasons. First, I wouldn't want anypony to find out about my rather eccentric interests in supposed "legends". Also, as much as I want to admit it, I feel that humans might not be real after all. Maybe I'll finally give up this obsession. Or maybe I won't No, I definitely will.

The Spy grinned wickedly. Normally, he wouldn't partake in something like this (it was more like something the Scout would do), but he just couldn't resist. Finding a quill in her desk, he starts writing down something on an empty page.

Dear Lyra, you shouldn't stop believing in us. After all, we are real. We always have been. Some of us have even been right under your nose all this time. Jusqu'à notre prochaine rencontre face à face, je vais regarder.

As a sort of signature, he traces his hand on the opposite page. Still grinning, he puts everything back to the way it was; it was like he was never there at all. Just the way he likes it.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. His expression turning serious, the Spy dons the Lyra disguise again. Nearly three months here, and he still wasn't comfortable with walking on all fours to complete the disguise. Grumbling to himself, he heads back out to meet whoever it is who decided to visit.