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// Prologue: Sincerest Condolances 
// Story: Agent Con Mane in Undercurrent (to be rewritten) 
// by Fairytail 
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The droning tolls of the funeral knells echoed throughout the cathedral situated in south Unicornia. The chapel was deathly silent except for the echoes of faint whispers of condolences and an occasional ‘good riddance.’ The Ponies dressed in black encircled the coffin upon the altar, which was decorated with a vast assortment of flower arrangements and other trinkets. engraved onto the lid of the coffin,as was tradition, was the Cutie Mark of the deceased-- a donut with bright pink frosting and  numerous candy sprinkles.
Some ponies watched the service from the upper balconies of the chapel. In one balcony, a pair of Unicorns looked down upon the memorial with straight faces. They did not shed any tears, nor did they wear traditional funeral attire. The mare was mostly naked, except for a simple black boa wrapped around her neck. Beside her was a stallion wearing a black dinner jacket, well ironed collared shirt and bright red bowtie. On his hooves he wore black dress dress boots. He had a bulky build uncommon in Unicorns. Sagging folds of skin on his sides were indicative of a recent and rapid loss of fat that was slowly being replaced with well toned muscles that suggested an Earth Pony lineage. His muzzle was wide and very round. His brown mane, futilely combed, was shaggy and mostly obscured his small horn. Adorned onto the stallions beige flank, was a donut Cutie Mark nearly identical to the one on the coffin.
“It must be creepy seeing a casket with your Cutie Mark on it, Con Man.” said the mare in a thick Unicornian accent. Traditional Unicornian language was sharp as crystal yet as crisp and fluid as freshly melted snow. It was the kind of voice that Con Man would normally enjoy being lost in. However his attention was not on the well proportioned Unicornian noble on his side, but instead rested solely on the display below.
“It doesn't bother me as much as you’d think.”
“Colonel Creme Brulee died in his sleep, or so I’m told.”
“He got off easy.” Con Mane’s tone was deathly blunt. His gruff voice was a low growl, seeded with bitterness.
“You sound as if you’re disappointed that you did not kill him yourself.”
“I am. Col. Brulee killed three of Equestria’s agents.”
“Why should you care?” she scoffed, “I thought you were retired from Mane6?”
Con Mane flared his nostrils in frustration. “Ponies seriously need to stop asking that. I am retired. But I have personal issue when it comes to hunting down the agents of DISCORD, and I won’t stop until every single one of them pays.”
The Unicornian remained silent for a few moments and returned to watching the mourners. one by one they piled through, bowed in respect to the coffin, spoke some reassuring words to the presiding monk and stopped to pay respects to the sobbing mare in the long, black dress and thick veil that hid her mournful face and running mascara in shadow. Every condolence or happy memory delivered by a guest reinforced her weak knees and wailing cries.
“But just look at the Colonel’s wife.” said the mare next to Con Mane, “She is absolutely wrecked with sadness.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Con Mane said with unrelenting indifference.
His partner sighed in surrender and said with pity and concern, “Is there anything else our Unicornian station can do for you, Monsieur Mane?”
Con didn't answer. His gazed remained fixated on the crying widow below. Two stallions on either side of her patted her back and reassurance and politely escorted her out of the chapel. as she approached a spiral staircase that led to the private chamber soft the cathedral, a handkerchief levitated by a magical aura lifted out from her dress pocket and dabbed her eyes behind the thick veil.
With a clenched jaw, Con suddenly turned around. “Maybe later.” he said to his partner before quickly exiting the balcony.

the ornate wooden door unlocked loudly and Co. Brulee’s widow crept in quietly. She caressed a lovely bouquet of red roses in her hooves. She gave them a long, pleasant sniff before setting them daintily on the side table. Her private chamber was lavishly equipped. The tall walls were painted with murals depicting Celestia and Luna descending from the heavens to greet the three founders of Equestria. Through heavy, red curtains, a sliver of Unicornia’s grand landscape could be seen in front of the morning sun which caused beams of light to stretch across the floor. Traditional Unicornian pottery lined the shelves on the walls and a proud grandfather clock ticked away the seconds against the far wall.
She slowly made her way across the room to the expensive Davenport lounge chair that sat before the crackling fireplace across the room.However, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of an off place shadow. A figure was already sitting in the chair, mostly obscured by the light coming in through the window.
“I m sorry for your loss, madame.” The pony, Con Mane, got out of the chair and approached the widow. She stayed still and silent. “I am here to offer you my most sincerest condolences.”
The blow came fast as a ball of thunder. Con Mane’s hoof collided with the side of the other pony’s face with a fleshy crunch. Con Mane’s dress boots hit the pony hard and heavy with a resounding thud. The pony toppled to the hard floor and the thick black veil flew off to reveal the face of stallion with heavy makeup.
“My dear Col. Brulee,” Con Mane growled over the collapsed pony, “I don’t think it was very smart of you to wipe your own tears, when your wife is supposedly an Earth Pony.”
Creme Brulee rubbed his aching cheek and was about to get back on his hooves when he suddenly was engulfed in an emerald green light and levitated above the ground.
Con Mane continued; “Did you really think you could hide from me, Colonel? I've been hunting down you monsters in DISCORD for months now. I know all your little tricks. I’m honored you’d fake your own death in fear of me, but the time for running is over. Now tell me. Who are the remaining members of the Elements of Irony?”
The floating Brulee shivered in reproach. “I don’t know what--”
“Don’t play dumb! You’re DISCORD’s Chief of Relations. You’re high up enough on the chain of command to know who your bosses are. Now, there are three Elements left in charge of your organization: ‘Loyalty’, ‘Laughter’ and ‘Magic’. Now who are they!?”
Brulee’s face contorted in rage. His horn shimmered with blue light. Before Con could react, he was struck in the back of the head. The pounding, brain jostling pain buckled him to the floor along with the shards of the broken pottery that struck him. Brulee, freed from Con’s magic, landed on his hooves. He charged at Con Mane, his horn forward. Con shook the senses back into his brain just in time for him to react to the oncoming ram. He raised a hoof just in time to catch his assailant.
Brulee took to the air and landed on the small table next to the Davenport chair. The table collapsed beneath Brulee’s weight. As Brulee scrambled among the splintered wood, he desperately reached out with his magic which took hold of a nearby wooden chair. He tossed the chair at Con Mane with blind abandon. The chair caught Con and pushed him across the room. He was slammed into the wall next to a tall wooden curio cabinet with glass display doors. Within the cabinet were several Unicornian relics. Pinned against the wall and unable to overpower the magic surrounding the chair, Joe watched as the recovered Brulee approached him once again. Joe focused his magic on the curio cabinet and with one mighty push, the cabinet toppled forward onto Brulee. The glass shattered and wood splintered on top of the Colonel who was pinned down by the mighty weight.
Freed from the chair, Joe lifted the cabinet off of Creme Brulee. He lay there motionless, his skin cut from glass and splintered wood, and his feminine, black dress was tattered to the point where Con could see Brulee’s pink donut Cutie Mark which was near identical to his own.. Con bent down to inspect the body and see if he was still alive. His answer came in the form of Brulee quickly sweeping his hooves and hooking Con’s legs, causing him to trip onto the floor. Brulee desperately leaped into the air in an attempt to land on Con. However he missed and over shot Con, instead landing on part of the rug that slid with him.
Con got to his hooves once again, but Brulee had an answer for his blunder. Brulee magically lifted the entire grandfather clock and pointed it at Con like a missile. Con dodged the incoming clock which crashed into the floor without a resounding cacophony of gonging springs. the ancient timepiece was quickly reduced to a pile of timber and bent clockwork. Brulee was in a rage. He desperately levitated any object he could get his magic around. In a moment, Con was being bombarded with potter and broken furniture.
Con was forced to shield his eyes from wood and shards of clay that constantly clawed at his body. He opened them again just in time to see a yet undamaged chair flying straight for him. Con charged his horn and took control of the chair mid flight, and then shot it back at Creme Brulee. The chair shattered to pieces as Brulee was slammed against the door of the room. Con approached the badly damaged Colonel, levitated flat against the door and then punched him hard in the gut with his thick boot. Brulee sputtered and groaned in pain.
Brulee then charged his own horn and enchanted Con Mane. Con was lifted into the air and slammed hard into the wall, freeing Brulee from the magical grasp. The situation reversed, Brulee delivered his own blow to Con’s husky frame. Both ponies grabbed a hold of each other and they threw themselves onto the floor in a somersault that ended with Brulee bucking Con into the air.
Con landed hard on the floor and could hear Brulee already recovering. He looked up and saw the mighty red curtain, thick and heavy, towering above him. Con used his horn to yank the curtain off its hinges and land right on top of Brulee who struggled underneath the thick fabric. Brulee wriggled his way from underneath the curtain only to find himself muzzle to  muzzle with Con who delivered another brain shattering punch to Brulee’s face.
Colonel Brulee’s face was badly bruised, puffy and purple. He made a mad dash to the nearby fireplace, but tripped against the crumpled rug and remain of the grandfather clock that he could not see through his swollen vision. He fell onto a black coffee table which broke beneath his weight and landed before the fireplace. Brulee relied on his levitation once again and took hold of the iron fire poker resting against the wall. He stuck the dagger sharp into the embers until it glowed a brilliant red. Then when Con approached, the Colonel quickly turned out and swatted at Con with the fiery poker.
Con Mane stepped back as Brulee wildly blindly swung the dangerous object. But Con Mane did not watch where he was going and he fell backwards into the plush Davenport. Brulee swung down hard with the poker which made contact with Con’s flank. Con let out a scream as he was whipped with the weapon that burned and lashed at his skin. He instinctively kicked outward and nailed Brulee in the face. Brulee was forced to press his hooves against his already damaged face and let go of the poker. Con grabbed the poker with his hooves and pressed it longways against Brulee’s throat. Fueled by his adrenaline, Con kept the poker tight against Brulee’s throat and pressed against the windpipe. The choking Brulee scrambled to free himself from the strangling but could not muster the strength.
“Tell me!” Con demanded, but the only sounds to escape Brulee’s mouth were guttering spats. Suddenly there were a series of loud, desperate bangs on the door. From the other side, Con could hear Brulee’s bodyguards yelling out his name. When the answer did not come, the bangs on the door became more forceful.
Con looked around the room, now in complete shambles with all of its furniture left in ruin, but could not find any means of escaping with his captive. Left with no other options, Con Man cursed at himself and sharply jerked the fire power. After a loud snap, Col. Brulee’s lifeless body fell to the ground with a broken neck.
Con dashed to the window where he yanked off the curtain earlier. He shielded his eyes and crashed through the window just as the bodyguards broke down the door and entered the room. Half the bodyguards ran over the inspect their boss’s dead body, while the others headed towards the window. There was no balcony outside the window; only a several hundred hoof drop to the cathedral courtyard below. But, to the guards’ surprise, Con Mane appeared on the other side of the window.
Con Mane levitated in midair, but his horn was not alight. Instead, roaring flames shot out of the soles of his black dress boots, their propulsion suspending him in the air. The guards all stood dumbfounded at the impossible sight.
“My condolences, gentlecolts.” said Con, “I’ll be sure to send flowers. Now if you’ll excuse me.” The rockets in Con’s boots increased their output and accelerated Con into the air. He elevated high above the cathedral’s bell tower. Down below, he could see the numerous bodyguards rushing out onto the various balconies and outdoor walkways in an attempt to track down the flying Unicorn. However, their efforts were in vain, as Con Mane became a mere black speck against the blue sky.


Agent Con Mane
in
Undercurrent