Agent Con Mane in Doctor Ironhoof (Under Revision)

by Fairytail

Chapter 1: And That's the Game (New)

AGENT CON MANE
IN
DOCTOR IRONHOOF

“And that, my dear gentlecolts, I believe is the game”

The slap of cards on the table was final. The impressive row of three aces seemed to smirk just as proudly as the pony who payed them. He beamed in smug satisfaction as the other three ponies at the small, round table allowed their cards to fall unceremoniously from their hooves. Predictable as ever, he thought as he gathered their bits into his pile. He checked the watch strapped to his left hoof. The game had finished even more quickly than usual. This was good, as it would allow him more time to read that novel he was working on so that he could still have his lunch promptly at one fifteen.

Initially, he had been wary of the ridiculous notion of a weekly game of cards. It would cut too deeply into his morning procedures and that would throw his entire day off balance. However, he had to admit that he found the company of the other three ponies to be surprisingly stimulating.

He took a deep breath of the sour smoke wallowing in the modestly lit gentlecolts’ club. The three other stallions across from him smiled in light of their defeat. The purple Earth Pony with the balding mane took the initiative in gathering up the cards to rebuild the deck while the pure white Pegasus in golden armor beside him was already counting the remaining bits in his satchel. No doubt he was disappointed in the results as he uncomfortably scratched his blue mane which was still matted and messy from the golden helmet that sat on the desk next to him. The third stallion, another Earth with a dark green coat and disheveled pepper grey mane, look particularly none too pleased about losing yet another hoof.

“Got me again, Time Table. I swear to Celestia, one of these days I’ll get you at cards yet.”

Time Table chuckled heartily as he glanced down at his watch again. The Pegasus must have decided that he could afford another game as he was already dealing out the cards across the table. Unfortunately the other two companions did not seem all too interested in another round, particularly the green coated professor. A pity, but Time Table could not afford another game as his work demanded punctuality.He took a quick swig of water to finish off his glass, then made a showing of checking his watch one last time, despite the fact that he knew perfectly well what it said.

“Ah, look at the time.” He scooted out of his seat and nodded politely at his companions. “I’m sorry, but I must go. You know how it is. Order a round of cupcakes for me, will you, Professor?”

The Professor dismissed Time Table’s jibe at his sugar intake and waved the dark brown Earth Pony off with a nonchalant wave and disinterested grunt. The Pegasus, however, politely stood up and shook Time Table’s hoof goodbye. He always was a good chap.

“Must you break off this time every evening?” The soldier asked.

“Sorry, Chief.” Time Table shook his head in apology at the guard’s plea. “The office puts in a call for me everyday around this time.”

“Just hurry back before the cards get cold.” said the Professor. Time Table couldn’t help but notice his friend’s suddenly improved disposition. No doubt, the thought of the departure of the greatest threat at the table emboldened him. The sly smile on the Professor’s face betrayed the gears that were turning in his head like clockwork-- which reminded Time Table that he could not afford to delay another second.

“Twenty minutes.” Time Table tossed the Professor with an accusing glance. “And don’t try any dirty tricks while I’m away.”

Proud of himself for that final remark, Time Table made his way out of the gentlecolts’ club and into the blaring Janeighcan sun. As he dug for his sunglasses in his coat pocket, he couldn’t help but note how beautiful the day was. The sun rose that morning at precisely five thirty nine, which was uncharacteristically early for this time of year. Still, he made sure that he had his coffee at the usual time of five twenty and was out trotting to the club at six sharp.

He continued to trot along the beach side road, just as he did every morning since arriving in Janeighca some several months ago. Time Table had grown to love the tranquility of Janeighca. It was a perfectly peaceful island. The local weather Pegasi kept to their forecasts rather diligently. It was mostly for the tourists’ sake, but Time Table greatly appreciated the simplicity of it all. The same high breeze was rustling the same palms trees as they were yesterday and the day before that. The breeze coolly embraced him like the old friend he had become.

His pace was brisk, but not hurried. He had walked the route between his home and the club so many times that he had the timing down to a science. He would arrive promptly ten minutes before the call from his office would come in as it did every day on the dot. He rounded the same old corner where the same old cat enjoyed taking his same old nap and along the way, he happily waved to the same old ponies. There was never much variation in the ponies that he encountered on his walks and so he could confidently give them their daily how-do-you-do by name. They, in turn, would give their same old greeting back.

He made his way down to forty second street. This neighborhood was always quiet at this time of morning. Once again it was perfectly peaceful save for one discrepancy. Parked outside one of the humble homes was the unmistakable image of a long black hearse. A reserved pony dressed in a respectful suit was tied to the reigns. Time Table’s heart went out to whatever poor soul that cabby had come to collect.
After greeting the very charming Zebra couple a few houses down that always sat on their porch every morning, Time Table turned and walked down the alley. He had only discovered the alley the other day, and realized that it would cut off precisely twenty three seconds off his walk. That was when something caught Time Table’s attention. A pony he had never seen before was approaching him. He was an Earth Pony stallion. His trot was steady, precise and rhythmic. His mane and tail were unkempt . Dark round sunglasses covered his eyes. Tied around the poor fellow’s neck was a small, battered old tin cup. A hollow jingle of a few rogue bits within the cup accompanied every step. A blind pony walking down an unused alley. How odd.

Time Table smiled meekly as he stepped to the side to allow room for the fellow to pass. The blind pony’s hearing must have been quite acute, as he stopped just before Time Table and, while still looking straight ahead into his empty vastness, smiled, revealing a single gold tooth that glittered in the sun.

“Bit for the blind?” the other pony asked with a weathered rasp.

Caught in a sudden spotlight, Time Table cleared his throat. This unparalleled stop was already eating too much into his time and continuing on now would not just be rude, but downright uncivil, and so Time Table counted two bits and dropped them into the tin with a ting. He had to admit the sound came with a sense of accomplishment, as did the poor pony’s “Tankya.”

“A pleasant day to you, friend.” Time Table stuck out a hoof for a shake, but then awkwardly withdrew it upon realizing his mistake. The gesture transitioned into wiping some non-existent dust off his foreleg which was of course what he originally intended to do. He quickly glanced down at his watch and realized he had spent far too much time dealing dawdling, and so he absentmindedly nodded at the stranger and continued on his way down the alley.

Time Table looked up towards the sun that hung majestically in the clear blue Janeighcan sky. Charity was quite rewarding. The mellow heat beat down upon him as if it was Princess Celestia herself patting him on the head and telling him ‘job well done.’ He gave a small, but meaningful salute to his delusion and thanked her for the praise. Of course humility forbade him from accepting the rather large sum of jewels that his daydream depiction of the Princess offered up to him, but it would be rude to refuse the title of knight that was so graciously granted for fulfilling his humble duties.

Time Table’s mental wanderings were rudely cut short when something suddenly collided into him from behind. The force almost sent Time Table spiraling to the pavement. He could not look back to see exactly what had ran into him, as his attention was focused solely on the knife that was now sticking from underneath his right foreleg, held in place by a firm hoof. Panicked confusion warped his mind as his body was engulfed in a chilling numbness. A churning maelstrom in his stomach forced him to his knees. The hoof holding the knife in place maliciously twisted the blade. Time Table tried to cry out in pain, but all that escaped his lips was gurgle and spit. He instinctively grasped at the wound and a stream of blood trickled onto his hooves. His vision doubled and blurred. Every breath he attempted to take ground the blade against his bones. He opened his mouth to scream again, but the scream was hopelessly drowned out by the blood that sputtered out. In hopeless desperation, he tried to turn his head to see the face of his assailant, but his body would not obey. His eyes saw nothing but white. He couldn’t feel the warm, sun drenched ground beneath him. His mind wandered to the Princess awarding his well earned rank. To the card game winnings he would not enjoy. And finally, as his closed his eyes to the encroaching darkness, he lamented the fact that he was going to be late.

The blind pony, drenched in blood, looked down upon his work and smiled as he stared at Time Table’s corpse. He looked at the blood drenched knife in his hoof, glistening in the sun. He was amused by how strikingly red it was. He rasped a weathered laugh through his grin adorned with the single gold tooth. After admiring the body a few seconds more, the killer whistled sharply through his teeth.

In the distance he heard the trotting of his partner accompanied by the ricketing squeaks of old wheels. A hearse driven by a well dressed driver turned the corner into the alleyway and stopped before the body. The driver looked around nervously, sweat pouring down his face.

“Is he dead?” The driver asked. The killer nodded proudly, his smile wide and glistening. “Good. Hurry, hurry!”

The killer picked up Time Table’s body and dragged him to the back of the hearse. He opened the doors and chucked the heavy sack of meat into the wagon. The body rolled and twisted like discarded marionette.

“Quickly!” The driver whispered in frantic paranoia. “Get in before somepony sees us!”

The killer hopped into the back of the hearse with the body and closed the doors behind him. “Hoof on it!” he said. The driver reared back and galloped the hearse out of the alley, leaving only drips of blood behind.

Time Table was late. This thought ate away at his secretariat’s nerves as she paced across the rug. He was never late. He couldn’t be late. Time itself would freeze and all of Equestria implode in on itself before he would even consider being late. However, she thought to herself as she once again nervously glanced at the front door of their home, he was late. Where was he? What is he doing? Did something happen to him? The secretariat discarded this last question just as quickly as it came. Instead, her mind ran various scenarios in an attempt to reason, to justify, to make sense of the situation in order to appease the knot in her lower throat.

Perhaps he nearly lost track of the time? The secretariat laughed at the absurdity. This was Time Table. The pony who couldn’t go thirty seconds without glancing at his watch. Perhaps something more urgent came up? Or something beyond his power prevented him from coming home? Maybe he had the runs? The secretariat was unaware of how fast she was pacing until she almost tripped over the rug.

She took a long deep breath. Time Table was late and that was just something she had to accept. Worrying why wouldn’t accomplish what needed to be done. The call was likely already coming in. The ponies at Canterlot had become accustomed to routine. Tame Table’s routine.

She walked over to the bookshelf that sat in the corner of the study. The books were piled into the shelf wall to wall, organized and arranged to be aesthetically pleasing. However, the late morning light from the window on the far side of the room emphasized the amount of dust that accumulated over most of the books. This annoyed the secretariat greatly and she never understood how a pony that neurotic about organization and precision could be so averse to dusting.

There was one row of books, though, that did not have a layer of dust. They were pristine and showed signs of daily use. The secretariat made a quick glance at the window. It was far enough away from the bookshelf that nopony would be able to see it if they were just passing by, and the blinds were open just enough to allow the light to enter. As further insurance, a wild bush was planted just outside the window. She could see the shadow of the bush’s leaves dancing beyond the blinds.

She then took one final instinctive glance towards the entrance. She still desperately hoped that Time Table would walk in just in time. He would be apologize profusely, shaking his broken watch, or presenting her with some sort of appreciative gift that took longer to prepare than estimated. Perhaps a bouquet?

Feeling the knot reform, the secretariat turned her attention back to the bookshelf. she pulled on the side of the wood and the entire shelf, books and all, swung forward on a pair of hinges. The shelf was actually a secret compartment. The books were actually not books at all, just cleverly disguised decorations on the front of a skinny, flat board. Within the compartment behind the fake shelf was a machine. It was a simple looking machine with a pair of dials beneath a set of gauges monitoring frequency and signal strength. Sitting next to the machine, attached by spiraled cord, were a pair of large headphones with attached microphone.

A flip of the dial and the needles danced. She clutched one of the headphones to her ear and the microphone close. She could hear the sound of clicking tape. A constant ticker tacker to remind her that her voice was being recorded. Still no sign of Time Table, she gulped hard. Would the tape catch that?

“W6N. W6N. This Janeighca calling Canterlot. How do you hear me? Over.”

The silence before the reply felt eternal. Her heart beat in sync with the rapid ticking tape.

“This is Canterlot. We are receiving you.” The voice was clear, regimented. The pony on the other end showed no signs of being suspicious. Of course there was no reason he would be. She was just being silly, she told herself with a deep, calming breath.

“This is Janeighca. Stand by to transmit. Out.”

A flip of a switch put the transmission on standby. She carefully placed the headphones back on the shelf and wondered how much time she had bought as she mindlessly closed the fake bookshelf. She knew it wouldn’t take long for the ponies on the other end to get impatient. No doubt her future was filled with sessions of angry questions and lectures about proper protocols. And of course Time Table would get out without such troubles. His reprimand would be nothing more than a stern ‘don’t let it happen again.’ The luxury of being a favored pet, she supposed. Well it wasn’t fair that she would have to get the blame every time something went wrong. If Time Table ever gets back... When he gets back, she would have to give him a proper piece of her mind.

That’s when her fantasies were halted. She glanced over at the window on the far side. The shadow of the bush leaves still danced behind the blinds. Had she imagined it? She could have sworn she saw a flicker of the window light in the corner of her eye. A bird taking off from a branch more than likely. Despite her attempts to force the thought from her mind, the secretariat found herself cautiously approaching the window. With a shaking hoof, she clutched the blind stick and quickly flicked the blinds open.

She half expected to see Time Table standing there with an embarrassed smile as he attempted to sneak in the house through the window as not to be noticed. But instead, all that was staring back at her was the usual shrubbery. It danced elegantly in the breeze to the twittering of birdsong as it always had.

She sighed heavily and instantly remembered the tickering of the recording tape. She did put it on standby right? nonsense of course she did. She wondered how long this would last. She worried that at this rate her heart would give out in worry.

She passed by Time Table’s desk. It was organized just as it always was with everything in it’s proper place. Not a quill nor inkwell was a centimeter off, not a parchment out of place, not a paper unfiled-- even if it was a note hastily scribbled on a sticky. The clock, perfectly rewound every morning, continued to tick away. The minute hand inched further and further away and each flick of the second hand was a blow to the secretariat’s nerves.

She needed to take her mind off the clock. She decided she needed some tea to relax her. Maybe continue her previous pass time of pacing across the study. She turned to leave the study and nearly jumped out of her coat at what she saw. The silhouette of a stallion stood in the study door frame, sunlight bleeding through the open door behind him. The secretariat breathed back her nerves

“Oh, Time Table. ‘bout time you showed up. Canterlot is on hold and--”

As she drew closer to the pony, she was met with a wicked grin with a golden tooth. Before she could even comprehend the truth that this pony was not Time Table, the study window shattered. Her attention immediately turned to the decimated glass. There was a creature standing in the window in front of the billowing bush. The creature grasped the window sill with it’s mangy paws and climbed over the glass shards. As it climbed inside, she could make out its sickly, matted fur.

The secretariat was frozen in terror, shaking her head violently from side to side, her throat keeping hostage the scream she so desperately needed to scream. However, it was a scream that would never find voice. She was so preoccupied by the terror of the second intruder, that she never noticed the first pony approaching her from behind. The secretariat was silenced by an already bloodied knife that was stabbed into the back of her neck.

the creature from the window slowly approached the corpse. It sniffed away as the lifeless body and curiously nudged it with one of its paws. The pony however, had something far more important to be concerned about. His gold tooth highlighted his smile as he approached the desk. He immediately knew which drawer to open. He had been watching Time Table for so long, that he could predict when the foolish pony would go to the bathroom. He did so love his stagnant routine.

The pony pulled out what he was looking for. He hoofed out two manila folders from the drawer and glanced at the neatly typed identifiers written on their tabs.

Satisfied with his spoils, The pony gleefully tucked the files away beneath his foreleg and gave one final look over Time Table’s former desk. He made sure that it was exactly as it was. Not a quill nor inkwell was a centimeter off, not a parchment out of place. Satisfied, he sharply whistled at the creature through his teeth. The two left the scene, leaving the secretariat’s body behind, while never noticing the transmitter behind the fake bookshelf, the recording tape still ticker tackering away.

The Equestrian Bureau of Private Communications was as abuzz as ever. Being the central relay for the communication of classified information in Equestria, the Bureau was a constant maelstrom of activity. Hundreds of ponies tending stations and running about to make sure the information gets transferred efficiently and discretely. The walls were lined with two way magic mirrors, while several hundred radio transmitters lined the the center of the room in columns. The room was always hot and stuffy due to enchanted scrolls constantly arriving and being sent via Dragonfire. Every form of known communication was handled by the Bureau, and the Bureau was handled by the pony who sat calmly at his desk overlooking the other stations, intently watching the mayhem of modern day politics.

The room was a symphony of indecipherable noise. Hundreds of ponies talking at once through their communication channels, the rushed stomping of hectic hooves, flaring flashes of Dragonfire and the constant tickering and tacking of tape on which everything was recorded. The Bureau never slept as it monitored the communications between every intelligence station hidden in every major Equestrian state. The grand majority of these transmissions were routine-- Monotonous reports usually involving the movements of the Griffons, suspected Changeling reports or even just comparing the economic and political standpoints between Equestria and their sister nation of the New Lunar Republic.

Several hundred ponies sat in front of several hundred transmitters, talking away into their headsets. One pony, however, had encountered a hiccup in the routine.

“Canterlot calling Janeighca. Report my signals. Over.” The pony adjusted the frequency modulator on the transmitter, just to be certain. “Hello, Janeighca? Over.”

There was still no reply. The signal was on standby and all that could be heard was a static tone. The pony had been in charge of the Janeighcan channel for the past several months. Every single day, the station chief would report in on the dot without fail. But today was different. Today, the chief’s secretariat opened the channel instead. Today, Time Table was late. The pony checked the receiver. The needle indicated that the signal was strong as ever. No interference. The connection was good, but nopony was there.

In a flash, the pony ripped out the transcript that was being printed out of the machine beside him. Everything that was said during a transmission, including time stamps, were magically recorded on those pages. Taking the transcript, the pony left their station and darted through the crowd of ponies that were also frantically scurrying between the corridors of transmitters. The young pony galloped to the desk of the Intelligence Chief. The concern on his face was apparent.

“Excuse me, sir?” The young pony was breathing heavily despite the short gallop.

“Yes, what is it?”

“We seem to have a problem, sir!” The communicator hooved the Chief his transcript. “It’s Janeighca. Well they phoned in for their routine report, but then nothing.”

“Transmission cut off?”

“No, just voice. Carrier Wave is still connected.”

The Chief looked up at the other pony. His mind was tensed as he ran possibilities through his mind, hoping to avoid the scenario he dreaded. “Have you tried both emergency frequencies?”

“Yes, sir. No, response on either.”

The Chief closed his eyes and took a deep breath and looked at the young pony with grave severity. “Right then, keep trying. I’ll get a hold on Princess Celestia.”

The communications pony swallowed his fear and nodded nervously at his Chief before returning to his station. The Chief silently prayed that it was a bug, a hiccup, a misunderstanding. But he knew denial would get him nowhere. He looked down at his desk. There before him was a red, but otherwise nondescript, telephone. It was the only phone, the only communication device in the Bureau, that wasn’t ringing. It was a phone that the Chief had hoped would never ring on its own accord. He reached out, picked up the receiver, and placed it to his ear. He didn’t need to dial. The call went through instantly, and almost immediately he heard the click on the other line.

“Hello?” The Officer spoke firmly into the phone, “Yes. Get me MARE.”