No one knew where the funding came from. The Agency had been severed from Royal control for the better half of a decade. Nopony knew why, exactly, but expected that it was probably better that way. The Agency did the jobs that Equestria required—the sort that the Princess was better off not knowing about. Celestia had been able to give them the leeway they needed—but the Heads doubted that Twilight Sparkle would be so forgiving. She was kind and gentle, if naive. The words written on the greatest of the Agency's artifacts, tables and tomes written in vellum deep in vaults, indicated that despite her appearance, Celestia was not.
And yet the need had never arisen to ask where the bits that powered the operation came from. That was not their job. Their job was far simpler.
No one knew who owned the obscure Manehattan corporate office, or what it even held. The Agency did, obviously, but no agent knew who worked there—or what they did. That, like finance, was not their job.
Through the musty halls of fluorescent light and old, fraying carpet, one agent tread in utter silence. The sword on her back made no sound, its black surface secured tightly in an especially exotic type of leather. The only sounds she generated were the occasional whimpers coming from the dirty burlap sack on her back. Although inaudible, to her, they were screams. And they no longer stopped, ever.
A conference room had been designated. The paper near the door had yellowed, but somepony had written on it the schedule for their meeting. It was the first time anypony had used this room in fifteen years, and the agent was fully aware that the room was totally empty. No one was waiting for them. Not in this place.
She opened the door and set down the sack before the conference table. It fell limply and made no more noises. The agent finally allowed herself to release a sound—a low sigh. Then she looked up to the pony sitting on the far end of the table, a wide grin on her face.
“As requested,” she said, gesturing to the bag.
“Thank you, Agent Sweetie Drops. Please open the bag and spill the contents. I hope that they have not been spilled already?”
Sweetie Drops grumbled and upturned the sack. The limp form inside it easily slid out. A pastel Pegasus with a bright pink mane. One that Sweetie Drops obviously knew, because everypony knew her.
“Capturing one of the co-rulers of the Empire is not exactly easy,” she muttered.
“Which is why I assigned you, Sweetie Drops,” replied the pony, smiling and still not blinking. Because she had no eyelids. Sweetie Drops had seen her once. It had not been pleasant. “She knows you. She trusts you. And we exploit trust for...some reason, I suppose?”
“To protect Equestria.”
“Yes, that is what we have told you.”
“Is it not?”
The pony pointed. “Is she dead?”
Sweetie Drops groaned. “No. It’s tonic immobility. It’s a defense mechanism.”
“Is that...normal?”
“If she were an opossum.”
“Is she an opossum?”
“I would think that would be obvious.”
The smile grew. In her current state, it was almost impossible to tell what kind of pony she was beneath the buisiness suit she appeared to wear—but Sweetie Drops understood her to have once been a unicorn. “Do you mean because of the brain damage or the extreme mental effort of drilling this projection into your thick earth-pony skull? I don’t have eyes. And yours...they don’t work so well these days, do they?”
Sweetie Drops sighed, and gently kicked Fluttershy. Repeatedly.
Fluttershy was not an opposum—but she had known many, and raised generations of the marsupials in her long and weirdly ageless lifetime. In this case, though, she was deploying the skills learned from the noble hogsnake, a creature that she felt quite akin to—although as a Pegasus, she had no means of exuding deterrent chemicals.
In actuality, it had mostly been the extreme terror of being stolen that had caused her nervous system to simply overwhelm. This was not one of Rarity’s histrionic faints that always led her directly into a piece of furniture so appropriately called a “fainting-couch”. It was a severe medical condition.
The kicking, obviously, did not help. It did not rouse her. Rather, she was suddenly awoken by a sudden and violent psychic shock. An image so terrible that her mind was suddenly awoken from her forced catatonic slumber. A projection of not only a sad puppy, but the very saddest.
“NO!” cried Fluttershy, waking up suddenly—only to freeze with a squeak of terror at the monster standing over her.
Then she realized who, exactly, was standing over her, and the barest fraction of her near perpetual fear was replaced by confusion—and perhaps, pity.
“Bon Bon?”
Bon Bon sighed. She looked profoundly unwell. Her eyes had lost their color, becoming increasingly black and bloodshot—and sunken against her pale skin. Her mane,likewise, had faded to white throughout most of it. She was wearing what seemed to be a kind of dark, light armor—and had a sword on her back. Although only the tip of it was visible in its scabbard, Fluttershy saw that it was not metal. It was black and shiny.
Bon Bon’s eyes clouded. “Yes,” she muttered. “I see it too, I know what she—no, we can’t do that, don’t be an idiot.”
“Bon Bon you...you stole me?” Tears welled in Fluttershy’s eyes. “But I thought we were friends!”
“We haven’t spoken since you left Ponyville,” replied the earth-mare, still sounding distracted.
“Are you...are you going to eat me?”
“What? No, why would I—no, I wasn't thinking about it—shut up, you only take the juices...”
“Please don’t eat me! I don’t taste good at all!”
“I would imagine you would actually be quite...tender,” said a voice from across the room.
Fluttershy immediately cowered. Bon Bon, though, lifted her and stood her up, and Fluttershy found that she was in the most horrible and terrifying place she could have imagined. It was even worse than being inside the sack.
She was in a corporate office. One that smelled of old coffee creamer and sadness.
“You fiend!” she cried across the table—only to realize that it was empty. There was a pony there, obviously, but she as a mental projection.
“Interesting that you would know that,” replied the projection.
“I’ve been around Twilight for half my life, I know magic when I see it.”
The head of the projection turned, as if she were a curious dog. Except she was nothing like a dog. Fluttershy was not sure she was even a pony—and she felt a sudden urge toward obedience. Because she knew that if the projection took of its mask, she would see something she did not want to. Something scary.
“My name is Eternity,” said the projection. “Somewhat. I am one of the Heads of the Agency.”
“What agency?”
“Exactly, that’s the spirit!”
Fluttershy looked to Bon Bon, and then to the shadow of a pony in a business suit. “Why did you steal me? That was so mean! You could have just asked!” She gasped. “Is it for ransom? Are you going to ransom me? Or—or turn me into soup, or bake me in an oven, or baste me in my own juices—”
“We’re not eating you,” snapped Bon Bon. “Why is that what your mind goes first?”
Fluttershy whispered. “Don’t tell her, but I think I might actually be...you know...delicious.”
“So you lied to us?” gasped Eternity.
Fluttershy winced. “Maybe?”
“Oh, wow,” said Eternity, giggling. “I am surprised by how little I care!”
“It’s for anonymity,” explained Bon Bon. “So you can’t trace us. Or find out where we are, or who we are.”
“I have literally known you since I was twelve. And you put me in a sack. I was awake for that part."
Bon Bon shrugged. “It’s how you transport snakes.”
“That is a totally different thing,” muttered Fluttershy, quietly.
“Yes,” agreed the the projection. “Which is why I didn’t request Sweetie Drops to bring me me a snake. I do not need a snake. I need whatever you are.”
Fluttershy was confused by this. She looked askance at Bon Bon. “Your name is Sweetie Drops?”
“Secret identities, much?”
“Are about thirty years passe,” sighed Eternity. Or what claimed to be her. She put her elbow on the table and cradled her head in her hoof. Fluttershy did in fact perceive her as a unicorn. She was a pale color that might have once been red or brown, with a blue mane.
“No, I don’t know,” she said.
“Know what?”
“If I looked like this. Why do you ask?”
“I...didn’t?”
“Do you know what I actually look like?”
Fluttershy shivered. “No.”
“Good. More importantly, do you know what I do?”
“Foalnap ponies in sacks, apparently.”
Eternity’s smile grew. “Yes. Apparently. But that isn’t my main job. Remember, we here at the Agency are the good guys. We keep Equestria safe.”
“By stealing ponies.”
“Oh please we stopped hunting heretics like fifty years ago. The other Head says I can only do it for special occasions." She shrugged. "Now we mostly deal in magic. And, for me, specifically magical creatures.”
Fluttershy’s ears pricked at the sound of the word “creatures”, but she felt her blood chill at the way she said it. With such disdain. As if they were a problem meant to be dealt with. Not individual creatures with their own wants, needs, desires—beings that deserved nothing other than the greatest possible love and care.
Except that the word had a second meaning. An aspect of the doublethink intrinsic to the former Princesses’ rule. Many magical creatures were adorable and beautiful—but many, likewise, were terrifying monsters.
“And we deal with the second type, largely.”
“Stop doing that!”
“And here Sweetie Drops told me you weren’t assertive!”
“I’ve learned. Repeatedly.”
“Well, I literally cannot stop reading your mind. It’s somewhat agonizing. But that doesn’t matter. I had you stolen because Equestria needs your help.”
“We have a formal request system—”
“For a figurehead government you and your friends created. Yes, I know. But I really hate paper trails. So I had you brought here to ask for help. Pretty, pretty please.”
“Why my help? I’m…” She paused, but she knew it was the truth. “I’m just Fluttershy. I don’t know how much help I can actually be. I’m sorry, but if you need help, Rainbow Dash—”
“If I wanted Rainbow Dash, I would have had HER in the sack,” snarled Eternity, her mask momentarily fading. Then she giggled. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Freudian slip, I suppose.” She shrugged. “But our problem right now involves animals. Animals of a particular type. And you are well understood to be a friend of all animals, no matter how great or small. Which will greatly improve your liklihood of survival in this situation.”
“Survival?” Fluttershy felt herself beginning to cower. Despite her repeated training in assertion, she had suddenly realized that she was very likely in danger—and she could not resist the overwhelming anxiety derived from that.
The projection gestured toward a projector screen that had not been there a moment before. She levitated a pointer as a grainy image appeared on the screen—despite no projector actually being present. On it, there was a rather generic looking title. Then, with a click from an unseen slide deck, it shifted to a map.
“This is called Site 5-NA-1 L. Are you familiar with it?”
“Um...no?”
“Exactly. Because cute, adorable ponies like you don’t need to know about things like that. Unless we need you to know. Which is right now.”
The slide progressed to a grainy, black-and white image of thick, tall trees—and of something terrible with glowing eyes looming behind them. Fluttershy nearly fainted at the sight of it.
“Site 5-NA-1 L is one of several dumping grounds formerly used for the Agency. An uninhabitable, inhospitable region not slated for colonization or development. Nopony lives there. Nopony ever did. So we used it as a place to put monsters.”
“I thought you sent them to Tartarus.”
Eternity shrugged. “Not always. Only some. Ones that were a product of magic, not simple biology. Or genetic engineering. Or nanotech accidents.”
“Nano...tech?”
Eternity nodded. “Although forbidden arcana is the other Head’s job. So don’t you worry your pretty little half-breed head about it. The point is, some monsters get...relocated. So to speak. But this site is special. Very special.”
“Why?” Fluttershy was afraid to ask.
“Because the monsters started to breed,” sighed Bon Bon.
“More than that,” snapped Eternity, her smile wide and without teeth. “It has become a center of gastropod evolution on a scale that has never before occurred in our history.”
“Gastropods?”
“You should know what that means. You’re...what, a veternarian or something?”
“Um...no.”
Eternity shrugged. “Fine, I don’t care. You talk to animals and they tend not to eat you. Which is exactly why we need you for this particular mission.”
“W...w...why?”
“Because that’s what happened to everypony else we sent,” sighed Bon Bon.
Fluttershy squeaked herself to the brink of unconsciousness. She knew where this was going.
“It’s not that severe,” groaned Eternity. “But we’ve seen a five-hundred percent rise in gastropod-related incidents in the last six months.”
“What kind of incidents?”
“More like what kind of gastropods. Giant. Carnivorous. Venomous. Poisonous. Event that one that sings.”
“What does it sing?”
“Badly.”
“Oh.”
Bon Bon interrupted. “The orbital satellites have also picked up traces of magic in the area. Much greater than background.”
“What’s a satellite?”
“You don’t need to know that,” said Eternity. “What you do need to know is what I need you to do. It’s not even that complicated. Or even that dangerous.”
“It...isn’t?”
“Of course not. Would I lie to you?”
“Probably?”
Eternity shrugged. “I’m having a survey conducted. Just to see what’s going on in there. Why the gastropods are suddenly freaking out. And before you ask, no. It’s not a hunt. I don’t want to agitate them anymore than they already are. I just want to keep them in the zone. I’m sending in an agent to check. He’s durable, but I need you to keep him safe.”
“M...me? Why me?”
“Because you know animals better than any pony.”
“But not monsters!”
“The definition of ‘monster’ is nebulous.”
Fluttershy shivered. She knew it was true, but some things were still very, very scary. “Why can’t you send Bon Bon?”
Bon Bon seemed surprised by the suggestion. “What?”
“She’s my friend. Sort of. And I’m very peeved by being stole, but I think I’ll get over it. Eventually. If she says she’s sorry. Please.”
“Sweetie Drops lacks the prerequisite mental stability. Especially after what happened to that poor teal girl.”
Fluttershy looked up at Bon Bon in surprise, but Bon Bon could not meet her eye. She looked away, grimacing—a grimace that looked oddly like a tiny, manic smile.
Fluttershy sighed and stiffened herself, preparing to be assertive.
“And what if I say no?”
Eternity shrugged again. “I figured it was a possibility. Then I send my agent anyway. But I authorize him to have better self defense. For his own sake.”
Fluttershy stiffened—but not out of assertiveness. Out of a growing rage. “That’s a threat,” she snapped. “I can’t believe this! What kind of pony are you?!”
“I didn’t make a threat. But he has to do whatever I tell him. Even if that means perforating a few animals. It's the Law.”
“Yes you did! You’re saying you’d let him hurt innocent animals if I don’t—”
“No. I’m saying he would have to hurt innocent animals if you don’t help him avoid conflict. You’d be an interpreter. That’s all. I don’t have an alternative.”
“You could try not invading their habitat!”
“I can’t do that. Something’s wrong, and I have to fix it. It’s my job. I don’t care if they stay in their zone. That’s what it’s for. But when they start coming out and smiling up crops or sucking the manes off ponies, I get thawed out of my blissful nightmares and have to do a job. Do you think I like being conscious? Huh?”
Fluttershy stared in disbelief, then let out a long sigh. Eternity smiled. Nothing needed to be said, because they both already knew the answer. While she had been released from the sack, Fluttershy knew that she was still stolen—and she found herself wishing that she could go back in it. Like all the times before she had been stuffed into a sack, it was dark, comfortable, and warm—if a little scratchy.
“Agent Sweetie Drops will take you to where you need to go. For the transport.”
Fluttershy sighed and nodded. She began to crawl back into the sack.
“Um...you don’t need to do that?”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped. Followed quickly by “sorry.”
Bon Bon watched this and picked up the sack. The room was already empty. All that was left was the voice in her head and the job at hoof.