Agent Con Mane in Mission to the Griffon Kingdom (to be rewritten)

by Fairytail

Chapter 7: My Friends call me Rose

Joe was more than grateful to return to the peeling walls of the Claw n’ Paw the following afternoon. After spending the night on a bed of collected leaves and flower petals while exposed to the cool, dry air of the Breezie Village, even his stale mattress and paper thin bed sheets looked welcoming. No mail at reception. Joe entered the bridal suite at the top floor of the hotel which was a multi-room suite that was at least trying to be respectable. A small but cozy coffee kitchen led into a ovular sitting room with several couches and chairs, a coat rack and a wide window view of the poor colony. From the top floor, Joe could see the Nests as the Griffons saw it. Pockets of abandoned dilapidation were peppered around the better kept but equally ugly facilities along the main streets. Celestia was lowering the sun and the light of sunset made the colony look like a wasp hive that had been abandoned and fallen to the ground. Sickly rust colors and grotesque empty holes.

Joe picked up the telephone near the coffee kitchen and rang the front desk. “Hello? I’m going to want breakfast tomorrow at nine. Donuts. Extra Sprinkles and coffee very black. For one. Yup, that’s all. Thanks.”

Joe ran his hooves down his face to relieve the heavy pain in his eyelids. He examined himself in the mirror and winced at the state of his mane which was even shaggier than usual from the flower petal pillow. His muzzle, far too round, sagged as much as his wrinkled clothes. flaking red claw scars lined his body. One in particular completely skewered his donut Cutie Mark.

He slowly made his way to the bathroom-- still a step up than most public facilities in Canterlot-- and drew a bath. Joe stripped himself naked and held a hoof under the faucet to wait for the water to reach the near boiling heat that Joe liked to bathe in. Just as Joe started to wonder whether he would have to use his horn to get hot water, a thud jolted his nodding head awake. Curious, Joe shut off the faucet and listened again. He heard a soft rustle and the settling of springs. A newly alert Joe inched his way out of the bathroom and across the sitting room. He had not bothered to replace his clothing even though the absence of a shirt made Joe feel vulnerable and exposed. The door to the bedroom was ajar-- a warning not worth ignoring since Joe was well aware of his own compulsions.

Through the crack he could see that the bedroom was dark. All the curtains had been closed. Joe readied himself and with a single motion he barged through the door, turned on the light and powered his horn.

What Joe found in his room was not a bloodthirsty Griffon ready to tear at his neck or a slobbering Timberwolf, but an Earth Pony mare lounging on top of the bed sheet. Her creamy legs wrapped and clutched around the sheets. Her off-red tail wrapped under her body and was long enough that the curled up filly was absentmindedly nibbling at the tip. Her pale green-grey eyes, which held an ethereal light, looked at Joe with half-closed curiosity. She wore her mane like a Unicorn and had a rose on her flank which sat on thick fleshy haunches.

“You look surprised.” The filly’s voice was as velvety as freshly melted chocolate, “I thought you were expecting me?”

Joe shook the dumb off his face and approached the bed. A queen size, naturally, that sat below a massive landscape painting of a brilliant white castle. When Joe got closer, she sat up slightly and rested her head against the back wall. She dangled her mouth open slightly and breathed through it softly. She kept her eyes locked on Joe’s movements. Their ability to hold in the surrounding light was amazing. Beads of sweat moistened the backs of Joe’s ears.

“So you’re Roseluck.” Joe said. It was a statement. Not a question.

Joe reached the side of the bed. Roseluck smiled softly and playfully tilted her head away from Joe and flaunted her tender neck. “My friends call me Rose.”

Joe appreciated her figure from her neck to her flank and especially those glowing eyes of hers. “Mine call me Donut Joe.”

He told her his real name with little consideration. Perhaps those shining eyes of her drew the name out of him or he was lost in the sight of her legs in the sheets but it really didn't matter. Joe needed this filly to trust him, even if it meant his identity being exposed to the Griffons.

“Turn that off, please. Magic upsets me.” Her voice was a playful pout. Joe had failed to realize he still had his horn charge. The emerald light dissipated and, as though Joe had payed the price of admission, Rose scooted over across the bed to make room for Joe. Joe continued to stand. Roseluck’s sultry confidence faded. She blinked in uncertainty. Joe could tell that she was no veteran to the flirting game. She was looking for the right words to say, trying too hard to figure out what would impress her target.. Joe was a veteran and he already figured out how to win her.

“I’m sorry. I’m just...” Joe paused to feign coyness, “upset myself is all.”

She was visibly anxious. She probably thought that all she had to do was bat her eyelashes and she would have him wrapped around her tail. It was clear she didn't expect resistance. “You look just like your…” she stumbled over her words. “...Your photograph.”

“And you are one of the most beautiful fillies I have ever seen.” And that was endgame. Joe brought out his smile-- the charming grin that previously won him numerous nights on the town and extra tips at the donut shop. He saw the flush flow into her cheeks as red as her namesake. The sparkling lights of her eyes danced with hesitant joy.

“Thank you but I think my legs are too long.”

Joe climbed into the bed. Without his shirt on, Joe took note of the similarities between the colors of their coats as he held her in his hooves. He drew his face in close until he could feel the shock in her breath. “No their just the right size.” His kissed her passionately. She was resistant at first, but soon she lost herself in Joe’s arms. And he found himself in hers. She tasted like the earth and smelled like rain.

Joe backed away and created distance in the bed between them. Rose’s mouth instinctively clung to his lips and her hooves reached out to him in addictive withdrawal. Joe could see the pining in her bright eyes. He had won the game, now he had to claim the prize. “Do you have it?’

“What?” asked Rose through whispered breath.

“The Grimoire?”

She lowered her eyes in sadness. Lost in her own ecstasy, she probably had forgotten all else. “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

“So it’s still in the Griffon Archive?” Joe remained blunt but soft spoken.

She sighed heavily. “Yes.”

“I need you to get me a plan of the joint. Get them and meet me at the Sky Spirit’s Temple. We’ll pretend to be tourists and make the exchange there.”

Rose took a deep breath. With a fire in her brilliant eyes she leaned in and put her hooves around Joe yet again. “Why don’t you ask me that later?” She nuzzled her head against Joe’s neck. She was enslaved after all. She was a slave to her passions and Joe knew he wouldn't get anymore out of her so long as she could enjoy this fantasy that she was promised. She kissed him on the neck at first and worked her way up the side of his face until she reached his ear which she gave a long lick with her hot tongue. “So it’s true.” she purred.

Joe shivered at the unexpected lick. He looked at her in confusion. “What was that for?”

“You see?” she said while hugging him tight, “I know all about you from your file.”

“Oh do you now? Well I hope you ain't disappointed?”

She pressed their muzzles together and stared into him with her twinkling eyes. “I’ll let you know in the morning.” She giggled softly, “Over donuts.”

They kissed again and fell asleep cuddled together until morning. And Joe knew the donuts would be delicious.

Meanwhile, General Griselda watched Joe and Rose’s embrace with wicked fascination behind the window that was disguised as a painting by the illusion spell. Her wings were flared out in excitement. Next to her, the ticking tape of the video camera clicked and captured every intimate moment.

The heavy Griffyk accent of the tour guide echoed through the massive temple that was carved out of petrified clouds.

“We are now entering the most interesting part of the Sacred Sky Spirit’s Temple. Including these two crystal columns stolen and brought from Saddle Arabia.”

A mixed group of both Griffons and Ponies followed the tour guide through the temple’s main chamber. The architecture was simple and crude yet stiflingly overpowering in its presence. Typical of Griffon design. The ponies of the group in particular marveled at the beauty of the crystal columns. The Griffons barely gave them a glance for most of them thought the columns’ luminescent beauty clashed with the stark functionality of the superior Griffon design.

“In front of them, this alabaster urn was brought from ancient Pegasopolis. A famous historical pony city-state that the Griffons waged war against millennium ago.”

One pony from the group, a creamy yellow Earth Pony who wore dark sunglasses and a brown scarf around her head that covered her mane, stayed behind to continue to marvel at the crystal columns while the others went to go look at the urn. She pulled out a pamphlet presumably to read more about the exhibit. She didn't seem to notice the folded square of paper that fell out of the pamphlet and landed at the base of one of the columns. Satisfied, the mare rejoined her group.

“This urn was won in a mighty battle against the Pegasi Commander Hurricane whose forces were decimated by Commander Gregory the Great.”

A rather stout looking Griffon with a balding crest stood up from the bench he was resting on. He approached the columns and appreciated them through a thick pair of spectacles. As he admired the piece, another Earth Pony appeared next to him. This pony was a massive stallion, a farmer the Griffon assumed, with the most disgustingly monochrome colored coat and mane that the old Griffon had ever seen. Ever prudent, the Griffon casually placed a front talon on the paper that fell to the floor and scrunched it beneath the talon to keep it out of sight.

“It was used as a crude rainbow making fountain before the creation of weather factories.“

The Griffon looked around the temple chamber. The chamber was mostly empty save for the group of tourists that were already at the far end of the room and the occasional lone tourist that was too fascinated by the exhibits to be aware of their surroundings. Only the grey pony standing beside him was close enough to make note of any actions the Griffon might make. The grey pony still stared at the columns and the Griffon silently brandished a sharp knife that was hidden beneath his wing. After making sure that no further ponies or Griffons would enter the chamber, he raised the knife and aimed it at the base of the grey pony’s neck. The Griffon was suddenly caught by surprise because, in the blink of an eye, the grey pony swatted the knife out of the Griffon’s claw and wrapped his massive hooves around the Griffon’s neck. The Griffon didn't even get a chance to call out before the grey pony snapped the Griffon’s neck. The Griffon’s dead body slumped against the crystal column and the folded square of paper fell out of his other claw and on to the floor in plain sight. The grey pony looked at the paper and simply trotted away, leaving behind both the paper and the body.

“After the rainbow making urn, we will find very interesting obelisk over there known for centuries as the sacred Wishing Stone.”

The next pony to trot up to the columns was a husky Unicorn wearing a suit with a red bowtie. He stepped backwards in shock at the sight of the dead Griffon. He looked around the chamber but the only other ponies in the room were a part of the tour group that was close to leaving the chamber. The Unicorn did not make an alarm. Instead he used his emerald levitation magic to pick up the folded square of paper and placed it in his pocket before casually trotting away.

“Ten of thousands of Griffons have wished here, placing their left claw and right paw on the stone. Why do they do this?...”

The tour guide’s voice trailed off as he led his group to the next part of the tour. There was was not a single living soul left in the temple chamber. Just a corpse and the surrounding silence.