//------------------------------// // This... is a centaur. (Dear God!) // Story: The Tirek Who Tolerated Me // by Kotatsu Neko //------------------------------// It had been decades since the Administrator had last slept. Sleep, she'd decided, was inefficient, and had done away with it. And it wasn't as if she had the time for it in any case; apart from monitoring the various packs of murderous goons in her employ, covering up all the many (many) crimes they committed, and making sure the Redmond and Blutarch estates continued their feuding even after their principals had shuffled off the mortal coil, she still had to engage in crucial resource gathering. It was this task that led her to being on the phone in the dead of night, an overflowing ashtray before her. "...and you're certain this is your country's entire supply, your Highness?" She listened to the response. "The deal is done, then. Seven million American dollars for three pounds of Australium, payment due on receipt by my agent in Cidade de Nacala. Yes. Indeed. It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Ma’a assalaamah." The Administrator did not hang up the phone, but instead pushed a button, changing to another line. "I apologize for the delay, Captain Rostov. Yes, I have confirmed the package will be en route from Kuwait City to Nacala in Mozambique within the day. I will send you the vessel's details when I have them. Yes. As agreed, two million American dollars on receipt by my agent in Mombasa. Hmm? Well, I could care less about your feud with the Kenyan cartel, do you want the job or not? Quite. Good day, Captain. Do svidaniya." Another button. "Mister Chebet? Yes. As I mentioned, I have information on the pirate known as Rostov. He should be heading to Mombasa some time in the next few days. I give you this information freely; I seek only the cargo he carries, a small canister weighting roughly three pounds. I would be willing to part with seven hundred and fifty thousand American dollars for its retreival. Is that acceptable? Good. You may deliver it to my agent in Mogadishu. Oh, don't worry about the Somalian military. I have it on good authority they will be on maneuvers in the north for the next few weeks. All right, then. I'll call back with the details later. Kwaheri." Another button. "Ah, General Dihoud, I'm grateful that you could take my call. Listen, the Kenyan cartel has stolen an item of mine, and I have learned they will be attempting to sell it at the Mogadishu docks within a week. If you were willing to confiscate it, my agent will be on hand to recover it in exchange for a generous donation of, say, one hundred thousand American dollars? Of course. It's been nice speaking to you again. Macsalaamayn." The Administrator finally hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. She did not sigh, but simply took a long drag on her omnipresent cigarette and blew the smoke upwards, where it joined the permanent haze near the ceiling. Nobody appreciated the work she did to keep this operation running. She could have just walked away years ago, but she was too dedicated. Yes, that was her problem, she decided while ordering a fresh batch of neurotoxin. She was just too nice. A cycling image on the wall of monitors before her caught her eye, and she flicked a switch to pause the display. She regarded it for a long moment, then snorted. "Well. It was bound to happen eventually." She moved the image to a larger monitor and activated the audio, then leaned in to watch... Spy was an incredibly paranoid person, for very good reason, and regularly swept his quarters for bugs and other listening devices. The Administrator, therefore, had needed to devote some extra effort. Upon acquiring the Chalice of Yu She, a goblet used to murder no less than seven Chinese emperors, a tiny microphone and camera were artfully added to the serpent winding around its rim before putting it back on the market where Spy would certainly find it, and his love of the art of murder would make it irresistible. Though the Chalice was sturdy enough to withstand the installation process - while most of the assassinations were by poison, at least one was by blunt instrument - the Administrator knew Spy would not subject it to his usual thorough inspection routine, for fear of damaging the priceless artifact. Now the serpent's little ruby eyes swiveled to focus on the scene before it. Only two sources of light were visible in the room. One was a stylish desk lamp, next to which sat the Engineer, his hands folded patiently. He stared up at what might be called the centerpiece of the tableau, to wit: the half-dressed form currently hung from the ceiling by his ankles, arms strapped to his sides. The Heavy loomed in the darkness next to the Engie, and presently leaned down and said quietly, "Should I...?" "Nah, let him wake up on his own. Shouldn't take long." In fact it was two more minutes before the discomfort of the position roused Tirek from his slumber; his mind welcomed the release from sequential nightmares, but his body desperately needed to recuperate after the day's activities. Once awake, however, confusion quickly changed to panicked flailing, and he started swinging randomly of his own accord. The Engineer let this happen for a little while, then nudged Heavy, who reached out and stabilized the former centaur with one massive hand, turning him to face the figure at the desk. "...howdy, pardner," Engineer said, once he was sure he had Tirek's full attention. "Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but we got a couple few questions for ya." "Wha... what is the meaning of this? Release me at once! At once, I say, or I'll..." "You'll what?" "...I'll..." He struggled for a moment, but his bindings seemed secure. "...be very cross." "Thought so." The Texan rubbed his chin. "Gotta admit, the voice should've tipped me off from the start, even if Pyro didn't. Soldier said you were comin' down sick, but I shoulda realized that wouldn't have gotten rid of the accent. So, b'fore we go any further, just outta curiosity, I gotta ask: how'd you do it?" Tirek paused in his wriggling. "Do...?" "We've had folks show up gunnin' for Spy before," Engie continued conversationally. "People wantin' revenge for things he's done, or paid by people wantin' revenge. We usually only found out about it when we saw the pile of dead assassins in the mess hall. It'd take some serious skills to actually get to him, a Spy even better than Spy. And, son... that ain't you." The would-be tyrant didn't even bother arguing the point. "So how'd you manage it? Had to be the day before last, I reckon. There was a fire in the bread containment vault, and as best as I can tell we last saw our Spy just before then. When we got back, he was gone, and the next thing we knew we had you. Ringing any bells?" Tirek felt like one, dangling like this, but remained silent. He'd suspected that his deception would be revealed eventually, but given how obviously superior he was to these apes, he never thought it would be this soon. Engineer waited for a few moments, then shrugged philosophically. "Oh, well. That don't matter right now, I guess. We got more important questions anyway." He leaned forward. "This one, I'm only askin' once. Where. Is. Spy?" ...so be it, then. He could drop the act, which was something of a relief, but he would be a fool to reveal everything to them at this point. Still, though it didn't seem that honesty would do him many favors here, saying nothing would likely be worse. "He is... safe." "Where?" rumbled the Heavy. "Somewhere very far away." He paused as a thought occurred. "Somewhere you'll never find him... without my help." Heavy started forward, but a gesture from Engineer held him back. "So. It's like that, huh? Some kinda ransom?" "For now," Tirek admitted. "You'll get your precious Spy back in due time, but only if I decide to allow it." Which wasn't wholly true - he wanted his real body back, and that would necessitate giving Spy his - but the begoggled ape didn't need to know that. "I get the feelin' you're overestimatin' how valuable Spy is. The Administrator would replace him without blinkin'." "Perhaps, but I'm not talking to her right now, am I?" Tirek countered, remembering the cheers and adulation directed toward Spy that morning. "You care about your friend," and he didn't even try to keep the mockery out of his voice. "You don't want anything to happen to him. And so you don't dare eliminate me." Engineer took this in thoughtfully. "'Friend' is goin' a bit far, but... fair enough. Spy's a snake, but he's our snake." He sat back. "So what's your angle here? What're you after?" "That's none of your concern!" "I reckon it is. Y'all decided to replace one of our teammates, and maybe the most difficult one to replace at that. Not to sell 'em short, but Scout? Soldier? Demo? Heavy? ...no offense." He glanced up at the Russian, who shrugged. "You showed up the spittin' image of them, and you mighta gotten away with it. Instead, you picked Spy." "He was... uniquely placed to further my agenda," Tirek invented desperately. "But you didn't do your research," Engineer continued. "You have no idea how we work or what we do, but you expected to take Spy's place. That don't add up." Tirek was not enjoying this line of questioning. Time to end it. "Perhaps not to a simpleton like you..." The Texan's eyebrows were not visible beneath his hard hat, but he seemed to be raising one. "...but rest assured, my plan was elegant in its simplicity." He sneered at the seated figure, which lost quite a lot of impact due to being upside-down. "The only arithmetic you should be worrying about is the part where adding violence to me equals no Spy. So why don't you release me before I decide that this world has no more need of your esteemed compatriot?!" And Tirek laughed, laughed at besting these primitive apes, laughed in revenge for the pain and suffering he'd endured, laughed for his certain victory against all odds, laughed right up until Engineer punched him dead in the face. As he dangled there, stunned and slightly bleeding, the Engie pulled out his standard construction PDA and pointed more or less randomly at a spot on its screen. "Well, wouldja look at that," he said, showing it to Tirek. "My bullshit detector's right off the charts." Tirek just groaned, waiting for the double vision to pass. "Son, your story's got more holes in it than a Swiss cheese factory," Engineer told him. "I think we've put up with your tomfoolery long enough. So I'm gonna treat you to some Southern hospitality and give you not two, not three, but four options. Option one: you tell us what you did with Spy. We get him back, and we let you go free and clear, no harm done. Or, if you prefer, Heavy gets to pound on you like a side of beef." The Russian slammed one fist into the opposing palm and grinned menacingly. "That's option two." Tirek stared at him, fighting back the rising (or possibly descending) panic. "I... don't think I like that one." Engineer feigned surprise. "Really? Well, then. Let's ask your doctor if option three is right for you." From Tirek's left, the Medic leaned suddenly into view. "Guten Abend!" he said with a little wave. "Oh, no..." Medic stepped closer to Tirek and scrutinized him closely. He ignored the blood trickling down the upside-down face and performed a complete visual examination, making several "Hmm" and "Yes, I see" noises. Finally he stood back and, with a short gesture of both hands, said: "Aliens." Engineer frowned. "Again?" "Ze technology required to make an exact replica of Spy is clearly extraterrestrial," Medic explained. "Add to zis ze imposter's ignorance of Earth culture, his reference to zis 'world', und Spy's inexplicable abduction, und I believe zat is ze only logical conclusion." "Checks out," the Texan agreed. "It's a workin' hypothesis." "Ah, but zat hypothesis must be tested." He opened one side of his lab coat revealing a very shiny collection of scalpels, bone saw, syringes, pliers, and other items of dubious medical ethics. "And vhat's a little vivisection between friends, ja?" Tirek's borrowed skin crawled. "Definitely not option three!" "Well, then. Let's see how you feel about option four." And Engineer took hold of his shoulder and gently rotated him... ...to face the second light source in the room. The pilot light on Pyro's flamethrower glowed ceaselessly as the rubber-clad form stepped forward. As always, no expression was visible behind that mask, but body language spoke volumes, with appendices to spare. Tirek's eyes went wide with fear. "...no..." "What's it gonna be, son?" Engineer called as the three mercenaries closed in menacingly. "We pride ourselves on a wide variety of hurtin' to choose from." "Oh, please pick me," Medic jeered. "I have so many experiments in mind." (In her control room, the Administrator held her finger over the button that would flood Spy's room with knockout gas, the non-Australium-derivative kind. The memory modification technology at her disposal was a bit more crude than she might have liked, but she couldn't risk losing Spy's body this early, and it would be best if the mercenaries continued to accept Tirek's presence for the time being...) "G-gentlecreatures..." Tirek tried, "let us discuss this peacefully..." "NO!" Heavy bellowed, and suddenly the giant's face was inches from his own. "No more lies! You tell Heavy where Spy is now, or..." A massive fist was pulled back, ready for deployment. "THIS IS SPY!" he shouted, eyes squeezed shut. (Her finger paused, but was not removed.) The mercenaries hesitated. Not a single one of them could completely discount the possibility that this had all been some elaborate prank on Spy's part. "Beg pardon?" Engineer asked. "I mean this body is the body of your Spy. I am merely occupying it due to... circumstances beyond my control." "Occupyin' it? The hell's that supposed to mean?" Tirek rolled his eyes, and spoke as if explaining to a child. "It's a standard magical switcharoo situation. The core identity of one creature - call it the 'mind' or the 'soul' or what have you - is transferred into the body of another, and vice versa. It's a very well-documented phenomenon, although I've never heard of it happening with a creature on a different world." "Hah! I knew it!" Medic chortled. "Alien!" "I don't even know what that is!" Engineer returned to the chair he'd been sitting in, spinning it around to sit in it backwards. He watched Tirek thoughtfully for a long moment. "Sounds like introductions are in order." Tirek drew him self up, or rather down. "You are speaking to Lord Tirek, and I..." He paused briefly, deciding he should paint himself in the most harmless light possible. "...I am but a simple dabbler in the arcane arts." And he provided a heavily abridged and edited version of his time in Equestria, and how a minor miscalculation sent his mind across dimensions. He declined to mention his attempts to conquer his own world; while these apes seemed to be unoffended by war, there was no need to trouble them with details. It was, however, rather difficult to concentrate with Pyro standing directly behind him making menacing noises. At the end of it, Engineer regarded him with a flat expression. "Are you tryin' to tell me that you're this interdimensional wizard-" "Hrr," said Pyro, for emphasis. "-who was imprisoned by these evil magical princesses for a thousand years-" "Hrr!" "-and just happened to jump into Spy's body when you tried to escape?" "Hrr!" Pyro's hand rested on the trigger of their flamethrower. "...yes?" Tirek replied nervously. Tension rose briefly, then Engineer laughed and stood up. "Well, hell, son. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" "Hr-!" Pyro stopped and looked at the Engie in confusion. "Hrr?!" "Well, I tried," Tirek said, "but the Administrator and that mousey female said I was being ridiculous and threatened to kill me! I thought my only option was to take Spy's place." "Yeah, they ain't the most understandin' folk." He drew a knife from his belt and cut the rope that was looped around a ceiling beam. Tirek fell, and only avoided injury due to the impossible softness of Spy's bed. "And we're gonna do some checkin' to make sure you're on the up-and-up, but your story does explain the way you've been actin'. Takin' over Spy's body by accident makes a whole lot more sense than on purpose, considerin' the ham-fisted job you've been makin' of it. And, hell, it's not like it's even the strangest thing we've dealt with this week." "Zhose libertarian yetis," Medic recalled, and shuddered in revulsion. "Ugh!" Tirek squirmed out of the strap binding his arms and stood up. "Then, you're not going to pummel me?" He rubbed at his bloodstained lip. "Further?" "Nah. That ain't really our style anyway. We mainly just wanted you to piss your britches a mite." He looked down quickly. "Did I...?" "Nah, you're good." "Und ze physical torture can be so counterproductive," Medic added disapprovingly. "Now, ze psychological torture..." "Hrr!" Pyro stepped in front of Engineer, clearly agitated. "Hudda hrr hoo!" Engie crossed his arms. "Well, whaddaya want us to do, Pyro? Rough him up some more just for bein' here? If he's tellin' the truth, anything we do to him, we do to Spy. Even if we got him out of that cranium somehow, there's no guarantee we'd get Spy back. We gotta play the cards we're dealt." Pyro bristled, but seemed to have no response to this. The Engineer's expression softened, and he laid a hand on his teammate's shoulder. "I know it's gonna ruffle your feathers, having a fake Spy around, but you just gotta bear with it for now. Okay?" "...hrr," Pyro didn't-quite-say with a nod. (The finger was lifted. Well. Not exactly how she'd expected that encounter to resolve, but if Pyro was calmed, it seemed she didn't need to fear for Tirek's safety.) Engie returned the nod, then looked at Tirek. "And you're sure Spy's safe in your body?" Tirek snorted. "Trust me. Absolutely nothing interesting is likely to happen to him in Tartarus. Unless perhaps he antagonizes the princesses, or picks a fight with our jailer." "'Our'?" "Oh, there's another prisoner with him, but she's nothing to worry about." "Fair enough. And Spy ain't the type to start trouble for no reason." Heavy spoke up from his position leaning against the wall. "We still need know how to undo this... 'magical svitcharoo.'" Tirek pretended to consider the matter, though in fact this was just another step in his plans. He had no compunction against using these oafs to aid his return to glory. "I need to find the rift that brought me here. If I can force it open wide enough, I should be able to pull my body through. From there, it would be a simple enough matter to reverse the switcharoo." "Won't that just leave you trapped on this side?" Engineer pointed out. "Wouldn't you rather just swap your minds outright?" "And stay in a cage another thousand years? No, thank you. Anything would be better, even this violent world. But I do want my body back, so don't worry about leaving your friend stranded." Then he frowned. "Finding the rift will be a problem, however. It need not be very large, and it could be anywhere." That was not, by any means, the only problem, but first things first. "Well, if there's one thing I've learned over the past few years," the Texan said, "is that there ain't no problem we can't solve by throwin' enough bullets, bodies or Australium at it." Heavy suddenly looked up. "Does anyvone hear that?" As the Russian investigated, Engineer looked at Medic. "We still got them spectrometers from when we were up against those haunted commodes, doc?" "Oh, ja. Zey just need some refurbishing and... a thorough cleaning. It shouldn't take more than, say, three pounds of Australium and a day or two to get zem back in working order." Heavy peered at an ornate goblet on Spy's mantlepiece. "Snake is growling," he announced. "Good," Engineer said, ignoring this. "Magic ain't really my forte, but I reckon we should be able to calibrate 'em to Tirek's thaumaturgical whatsis and backtrack to the point where he came through." Tirek regarded him with something approaching respect. "That... might actually work." "It's a plan, then. For now, though, we all better get some rest. Got a fight in the morning." "It never ends with you creatures, does it?" "It really don't. But after that, we should be able to start on huntin' your rift." As the others filed out, Engineer stood before the former centaur once again. "Oh, and Tirek?" he said with a broad smile. "Yes?" The smile, without changing in the slightest, somehow became noticeably sharper. "If you even think about double crossin' us, in whatever body you find yourself in, you're dead where you stand." "...uh. Yes. Of course." The Administrator took another long drag from her cigarette, sent another stream of smoke upwards, then ground the burned-out stub into her ashtray. The fools! Did they think Australium grew on trees?! It couldn't! She'd tried! She had to cut this off quickly, or that would be an evening's scheming and one hundred thousand dollars gone completely to waste. Oh, and multiple lives, as well, but that was hardly her problem. Just then, a nearby machine began to screech with an extended sequence of beeps and scratches, then paper began to slowly emerge from its lid. The Administrator had lived a long time and had no nostalgia for the 'good old days' of technology, and had embraced the advancements of the dawning Information Age. Thus, she made sure her office was equipped with the most powerful, cutting-edge space age communication device money could buy: the Serendipity 4200 dot matrix printer, with a dedicated modem capable of receiving data at a blistering 1200 baud. When enough of the green-and-white lined pin-fed paper had emerged to be worth the effort, she ripped out the page and perused it. This was normally part of Miss Pauling's many (many) duties, but she was otherwise occupied. Hm. Just a battleground maintenance report. How trivial. Why did they even bother sending it directly to- She stopped, then carefully read the last few words again, then the whole sentence, twice. She stared at the paper a few moments longer without really seeing it, her mind processing its options. Finally, she reached out and flicked a switch on her control panel. Almost immediately, a monitor displayed the face of Miss Pauling, currently driving a battle-scarred pick up truck. She had swapped out her motorcycle for her current assignment; she needed something that could carry cargo. "Yes, ma'am?" "Have you collected the package, Miss Pauling?" "Yes, ma'am. I'm heading back to headquarters now." "Belay that." She regarded the paper again. "You are to rendezvous with the REDs at Badwater Basin in the morning." "Yes, ma'am. May I ask why?" "I suspect," the Administrator said, with a razor thin smile, "I am about to save myself one hundred thousand dollars." She would eventually be proven wrong. Very, very, very wrong.