//------------------------------//
// 2. Absalom Hunts... 
// Story: My Name is Elijah 
// by twitterdick 
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	A middle aged, faded purple mare with copper eyes and a silver mane approached the small town of Ponyville. It was a quiet autumn afternoon. There was the pleasant smell of freshly cut grass and warm apple pie in the air. The trees along the road were ripe with apples, and several citizens gathered around a farmstead to enjoy fresh cider. The dirt beneath her hooves was pleasantly cool compared to the sunbaked roads she’d walked to get here. Soon, she came upon a bridge that preceded the town’s center, which bustled with shops, restaurants, places of business and citizens.
She remembered her protocol - to seek the local agent and acquire information on the bounty - but something jagged tugged at her inside. She postponed protocol and approached a youth - female, pegasus, soft eyes, light purple mane, light cream skin, cutie mark; three pink and cyan butterflies - sightseeing and humming to herself. An ample informant, she sufficed; Dutiful, sweet, eager to help.
"Excuse me, young lady, might I trouble you for a question?" she asked sweetly.
"Oh, sure, I don't mind," the youth said bashfully, "How can I help you?"
"My dear old dog passed away recently, might you know a place where I could get a headstone made for him. He was like family, you see…"
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that, ma'am!" said the youth, "The only place that I know of is a little shop called ‘Horseshoes and Headstones’. It's just around the corner over there on the left. It’s a bright red building, and you’re sure to see the sign.”
The middle aged mare smiled gently but sadly. "Thank you so much, dear.”
"Oh, you're very welcome!"
The middle aged mare walked through the small, crowded square in the direction the youth had directed her. She soon came across the little shop. It was a bright red despite its rather morbid function and the windows were a vivid stain glass arrangement. She stopped and admired the windows for a time, and even caught herself smiling. She exhaled and internally scolded herself before entering the store.
A bell rung when she opened the door and the clerk behind the counter - male, earth pony, cheerful yet weary eyes, dark blue coat, black  mane, cutie mark; a grey headstone imprinted with a horseshoe - poked his head up from a magazine and smiled at her.
"Hello!" he said cheerfully, "Come on in! Welcome to 'Horseshoes and Headstones'. If you need a new pair or to calm your despair, we're happy to help you!"
She allowed her eyes to wander as she approached the counter. She took a special note of the old wooden furniture and the faded photographs in metal frames that dotted them. The rug on the floor was old as well, but it was well cared for. There was a pleasant scent of pinewood in the air that masked the smell of decaying wood. She stopped and touched a potted plant with thin leaves stretching out in a spiral from a twisted center. She remembered when she had read that spirals in nature follow a specific pattern; a set of numbers. She couldn't remember the name of that series of numbers, though.
"Ma'am?" the store clerk said, "Can I help you?"
She snapped away from her introspection and approached him. She smiled a painful smile and nodded. "Yes. I was wondering if I could get a headstone made for my old dog. He's died, you see…"
The clerk nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that…"
"It's… it's alright, thank you."
The clerk rubbed his mouth and thought. "Is there any kind of style you're thinking of, or?"
"Something simple will do. I don't have a terribly large amount of money, you see. A fine stone that has his name on it will do nicely."
The clerk nodded. "Lot's of ponies get something like that for their pets. I've got some nice smooth cobblestone, if that'd do. It's about the size of the head of a stool."
"That'd do nicely."
"Would you like to see it?"
She winced. She was late as it was. "No… no thank you," she said. She pulled an aged scarlet purse from her saddlebag. "How much will it be?" she asked.
"Oh, you don't have to pay until you pick it up!" the clerk said, "It should be ready in a few hours. It'll be 32 bits. You can pay now or later, if you'd like."
She nodded. "I'll pay when I'll pick it up, then. I'll be back in a few hours."
"Oh, and the name on the headstone?"
"'Elijah.'"
"Elijah? What a strange name. Anyhow, I'll have your headstone ready and waiting for you later this evening!"
"Thank you."
The middle aged mare turned and left the nice-smelling store and walked down the street a ways before settling down on a bench. She pulled an envelope from her saddlebag and reread the instructions pertaining to meeting her contact. She frowned at the incessant repetition of the protocol she'd memorized since her conception, then pulled a small, worn map that marked the house of this region's contact. She frowned. She'd completed retrieval missions in this region at least a dozen times, but they always included instructions on meeting the same contact in the same cottage. 'Joshua' never moved in all the time she'd known him.
She frowned as she left the comforting bustle of the town's square behind and moved west then north towards the residential area. The pleasant click of her hooves on the smooth cobblestone gave way to the brittle feel of gravel. She passed house after house, each uniquely shaped. They all had lawns of varied degrees of orderliness; some with shrubs, others decorations or flower gardens. She missed the apple smell and the feel of cobblestone, but the flowers were still in bloom and well cared for. They provided a nice smell and calming sight, which distracted her from the slight pain of her crossbow poking her side through her bag.
After about twenty minutes, she approached a small brick house with a wooden door set apart from the rest. The lawn was unkempt and moss grew on the sides of the walls, but the place was homely with The smell of warm soup coming from the open windows.
She approached the door and knocked.
"Who's there? A visitor?" called a male voice from inside.
"'I am not one of them,'" she recited.
The was a pause as the resident came to his door.
"…'but they all know me by name,'" he responded. He unlatched the locks and opened the door.
"You're late," he said.
"I apologize," she said, "There was a delay. I needed money, so I robbed two unicorns out in the country."
"In this skin!?"
"No, not in this skin. I'm not stupid."
"Are they dead?"
"…Of course they are. Not locals, I think. They won't be missed."
”Alright, alright, come in."
She entered the house and settled down at a small, round table.
"There's plenty of soup, if you're hungry," said the contact as he fixed himself a bowl.	
"I'm fine, thank you," she responded.
"Suit yourself," the contact said. He placed his bowl on the table across from her and went over to a nearby filing cabinet. He flipped through some files and pulled out an old manilla folder that held more papers than it could really manage. He returned to the table and placed the folder a distance from his soup before taking a large sip. Then he flipped open the folder.
"Which one are you?" he asked.
"'Absalom,'" she replied.
Her contact mumbled the name under his breath flipped through some of the papers.
"Ah, 'Absalom,' here it is," he said as he pulled out one of the papers. He made sure she could not see it, but she could at least see that there were three small polaroids attached to it. He read it over and continued to mumble to himself. She knew 'Joshua' remembered her, but he too was a slave to protocol. She noticed how annoyed he was more and more with every subsequent visit.
"I see you're still using the middle aged mare skin," he said.
"Yes," she said.
"Are you still using the young male pegasus and the old unicorn skins?"
"I'm retaining the former and retiring the latter," she said, "It's ill advised to use a thief on a retrieval mission."
"A thief and a murderer," 'Joshua' corrected. He scribbled something on the piece of paper and took another sip of his soup.
"What was that skin's name?" he asked.
"'Cato'."
"The Manehattan professor?"
"The very same."
"I'll handle the death certificate." 'Joshua' pulled off one of the polaroids and wrote on it. He got up from the table, filed the picture away and pulled out an old camera. "Create a new skin, if you would. We'll handle the details after you complete your assignment."
The middle aged mare thought a while as her contact fiddled with the camera. He took a test shot them motioned her over to the wall. She turned into a young dark blue unicorn; female, white hair, calming eyes, cutie mark; a clouded moon.
'Joshua' wrote down the new skin's characteristics and took her photograph. He set the camera down on the filing cabinet, sat down at the table and sipped some more of his soup. He pulled her profile within writing distance. "Just need a name. We'll take care of the details later."
That was against protocol, but she didn't really mind. She shifted back to the middle aged made skin. "'Clouded Night,'" she said.
"How original," 'Joshua' mocked softly, "Keep your story straight if you use that one. Contradictions lead to questions, and I doubt either of us want to be decommissioned."
She nodded in response.
"Alright, onto business." He shuffled his papers and pulled a specific sheet up. "Which rogue asset are you retrieving?"
"'Elijah.'"
"'Elijah?'" said ‘Joshua.’ He looked through his papers, then pulled out a piece and placed it in front of her. It was like her own, with three pictures clipped to it; beneath was some identifying information. "'Elijah', Retriever, six years; was noted to be slipping about two months ago. He's collected nearly 60 bounties, but was relieved and slated for decommissioning after simply allowing one to escape a few weeks ago."
“Was that one collected eventually?"
"Yes. There's no need to worry about that. But, 'Elijah' did not submit for decommissioning. He knocked out a few of our Collectors and ran. We've been tracking him, but he's changed appearances too much. You need to be careful. None of the pictures we have of him matter, but we know he prefers to wear Earth pony skins, usually a red or orange color, and he's been shifting a lot, so locals won't be too familiar with him. Ask around. Find 'Elijah,' collect him and bring him back to me." He slid the three photographs from 'Elijah''s file across the table, just in case.
"Alright."
'Joshua' sipped more of his soup and stared back at her. She seemed to have space out slightly, and was staring at his bookshelves.
"You're dismissed, 'Absalom,'" he said.
She blinked, nodded, collected the photographs then left without a word.
The skins 'Elijah' once used consisted, as was general normal among his fellow assets, one earth pony, pegasus and unicorn skin with two females and a male. He preferred greens, reds, blacks and grays, it seemed. She focused on the male unicorn, red with an orange man, and crafted a tale around the image.
She spent two hours in the middle-aged mare skin asking citizens about the photograph. “Please, have you seen my son?” she’d ask, “He’s been missing, and I heard that he might have come through here.” Most of the citizens were helpful and quickly offered sympathies and tangental, anecdotes about her fictitious son. It proved to her that ‘Elijah’ had been here, based on the few who recognized the photograph, and that he’d used this skin. She figured he was no more than two days outside the city if he had left at all. However, hunger and fatigue soon plagued her and she remembered the headstone she’d ordered a few hours ago. She made her way back to that particular store.
There was a familiar ring as she opened the door.
“Good afternoon, welcome to… ah, it’s you! Don’t worry, your headstone is waiting for you right here behind the counter.” The weary eyed clerk pulled the small stone from behind the counter. It was smooth and grey, with the name ‘Elijah’ etched on it in all caps. 
“Oh, it looks lovely,” she said, feigning a mournful sadness. She allowed herself to tear up slightly as she gazed upon it to add some sympathetic believability to the act. She’d known ponies to be a sentimental sort. “How much do I owe you?’
“It’ll be 32 bits,” he said as he bagged up the headstone. She gladly paid him with her stolen bits and grabbed the bag. She used the strap to place it on her shoulder, next to her standard issue supply sack.
The sun was maybe two hours from setting, and it began to paint the sky orange. She purchased a cheap shovel from a nearby gardening store and recalled a dark forest to the east of the city and casually made her way there. Twenty minutes went by before she found it. Everfree, she believed the name was.
She followed the edge of the forest until she came upon a river, and, in turn, followed it upstream and into the forest. It buzzed with life all around her. Birds cawed in their nests as their brethren picked at the ground for food. Snakes hissed as she passed them, then continued their business as if she’d never been there. She saw two squirrels, a rare sight in such a forest, chasing each other among the twisted branches. Frogs croaked along the murky contours of the river, and she saw dragonflies and could make out the heads of turtles in the water. She found something soothing and wonderful about forests, though rivers had to be her favorite thing on this earth.
She found an empty spot among a small hill near the river. It was as good a place as any. The headstone had tired out her shoulders as she’d carried it, and she was relieved to let it down. She carefully cleared away moss, sticks and dead leaves from the clearing. Bugs scurried away from the site. She went slowly as to not disturb or provoke them. After the debris had been sufficiently cleared, she dug. The earth here was thick and wet with roots buried deep. It was difficult work, but she soon had a long hole about two feet deep etched into the earth. She let herself out and placed the headstone by the hole and close to the river. 
It was calm, and she rested for a few minutes before resolving to find dinner at a restaurant. ‘Joshua’ and the protocol would be furious, but an asset needed to eat and she’d heard wondrous things about some of the restaurants in Ponyville. She stretched out her back and shape-shifted into a young male pegasus with a deep green coat, golden eyes and a black mane. He headed back to town and wondered if the chefs and waiters would recognize the photograph of his ‘brother’.