The Informant's Job

by Im a B O X

Agendas of a Different World

Canterlot, Undisclosed Safe House, two weeks before ‘Luster Dawn’…

“Is everything ready?” Formosa asked the two of his colleagues. Reviewing over the plans and numerous other papers that lay scattered on the table.

“Everything is set and prep to go,” Flick responded, pointing to a specific entrance marked on the Canterlot Castle blueprints they had laying around. “This is where our much-needed assets will be dropped at, one of the bathroom stalls out of prying sight and the other just by the wayside out of sight. Just in front of the main field, to the castle’s western entrance is where our ‘incident’ will take hold, I've already arranged our… erm, ‘scape goats’, by then, all our other assets have been vacated or arrived at their designated location after the ‘incident’ has been resolved by local security, including Write and James, who should be inside the castle and making their way to the palace to take that so-called private interview and routine security consulting respectively.”

“Good, good…” Formosa muttered to himself.

“Is this even necessary?” Print asked, having been second-guessing the lengths and justified means for Operation ‘Luster Dawn’. For such a simple task as to have a one-on-one chat with Celestia and Twilight. To put it frankly from his view, the plan seemed like a simple problem that was provided with an overly complicated solution, reminiscent of German engineering, but who was he to judge? It’s not like he openly opposed such extents, but still.

“We’re not the ones pushing the timetables here, and you know how the higher-ups get when the time ticks a bit too slow for comfort.” Flick responded.

That, and Formosa also chimed in. “Plus, we'll have, if all goes to plan, at least two ways of figuring out if they have our compliance, first our up-close break-in questioning, and the interview sheet that Write should be asking them later in that afternoon interview.”

Still, it didn’t take away the unanimous feeling each of them had for the acceleration of this operation. It was widely agreed upon by all four of them that the efforts poured into this one stunt were… less than thrilling to say the least.

Resources had to be poured and as said earlier, the timetables wouldn’t relent. And with their new deadline fast approaching, all of them were growing anxious by the minute.

Ten long weeks of meticulous and backbreaking planning just to speak with Celestia and Twilight alone. They could have just done a traditional kidnapping, but they had been given a stricter set of instructions to follow this time around, so here they are, waiting patiently for their time to move and make their strike.

“Any other news before we go to our posts?” He asked, patiently waiting for a response.

Answering the question, Flick gave a not-so-endearing response. “Nah, last I heard from Turncoat, the papers were all big talk, nothing more…”

“Speaking of which,” Print interjected, “where’s Turncoat?”

“He's with Write,” Formosa replied.

“Your student?”

“The one and only,” he responded, but it didn’t give him any ease of mind as he was steeling himself to explain another point of contention for the three of them.

Instinctually, as the pencil levitated by his magic hovered to one part of the table, both his fellows contorted at what he pointed at. A specific line from a specific paper brought back from their home world several million light years away. The paper was from “The Continental York’s”, the specific line related to the public outlook of “Project Geneva”, the official name of humanity’s combined projects for Interstellar life, not necessarily related to its travel nor conquest. To put it simply, it was… mixed, but the outlook that they had was one that clearly cried of necessity.

“You and I know there’s a reason as to why the big press doesn’t cover our involvements throughout these long years…” Flick responded, trying to lighten and stray away from the clearly sensitive topic for all three of them.

“And yet here we are, doing the dirty work for the greater good of social science…” Print interjected, a somber outlook befalling all three as they skimmed over the newspapers.

When one would look at it at face value, humanity had, despite having sufficiently advanced technologies, always kept to some form of tradition, in one way or another, the press of their home world was no different from what it was a millennium ago. Always up to something and always on the lookout, just good business as some might say.

So when it came as a surprise to the three of them that the project of interstellar life was, to put it frankly, mostly an indifferent outlook, it took a toll on their morale, leaving them feeling... hollow, as if their efforts were simply set aside for other pressing matters.

What has to be considered important matters are debatable from person to person, but when compared with the countless others in the ocean of currencies that made up humanity’s… backyard, most being derived from the golden standard that defined the modern era. There was always that feeling of less, shared by people with lives the like of Moses and his crew, who always worked in relative isolation but whose line of duty is arguably an important one.

Sure, they may not be amongst those who live in privilege, the safety of their home world clearly being absent from this world of equine, magic, and mythologies. Yet they simply had to take the brunt of a simple fact, a matter of reality as they perceived it; Humanity always had its shining moments in tough times, although seemingly divided with certain agendas, if pushed to the brink, the pressure will eventually get to them.

It is like a tire and its grip on the road; it has the best cornering ability when it is at the fine line of slipping away but is still gripping the road (the line between drift and grip). So with that line of thought, all three were in silence, knowing that their work, as they'd like to believe it, is for the better good of it all. A fine line like any other work to push what could and would be understood.

Still sensing that impending feeling of senseless fortitude amidst work this kind of work, Formosa took it upon himself to break this seeming vow of silence. “HEY! Now I know where this is going and I'm going to break it before we're left sulking here for the rest of the afternoon. Yes, I know, we are Informants, having recited the Vow of secrecy and omissions. Though we may be Employees at best, mercenaries at our worst.

We are more than that, more than simple men, beyond just simple reason, justification, and morality. No, we may or may bit be any of those now, be we are informants, people who bring and work for a higher cause! Beyond simply living with and beyond creations, we are the messengers of creators and of creation. We live and work in humble service to allow those with an ambition to prosper and live. That’s who we are.”

In a single united moment, when they set down all the other complicate reasons for their work, they are all there to serve those who bring something to the table of change. And with an exhilarating “Hoorah!” Though it was a shame that Turncoat was not here to share the moment.

However, this heartfelt sentimental moment didn’t last for the three of them, as the moment was suddenly interrupted by a familiar ringing akin to an old telephone. As this ringing continued and gained their attention, they slowly looked around to find where it was coming from, and it came from none other than their personal phone, specifically, the one that belonged to Formosa.

With his magic, he carefully lifted the smartphone, a relic he brought with him from their home world for both communication and sentimental reasons.

He answered, lifting it to his ear as he began a conversation with whoever was on the other side of the line.

“Yes, hello?” he began, waiting for a response, one that he eventually got. What was surprising however was the visible shock that Formosa showed when the voice spoke to his ear, it was an expression that Flick and Print noticed as he continued with his phone conversation. “Yeah, it’s me… then get the boss on the… Yeah, hello, Hector? Yeah, no, I’m not that busy this afternoon… the group? No, I don’t think so, we’re just wrapping up a little discussion… that your plan? I thought we already had this settled with the rest of the office. Even with the prototype Nav-Mesh, at best, I’d say you could make it worth a week, less if you think you could use it as leverage. ”

As Formosa and this other being began doing a bit of back and forth, Flick and Print remained silent for the most part as they waited in anticipation for the call to wrap up. There was a lingering feeling of apprehension, one that was shared by any employee whenever they are within speaking distance with their employers.

Unfortunately, things seemed to have taken a turn for the worst when out of nowhere, Formosa was sent into a rage-induced tangent. “What? NO! OF COURSE NOT! No asshole would take it, even at that bargain.”

A bunch more mumbling was made as whoever was on the other side of the line seemed to try and calm the unicorn down…

“Ten grand? Plus another four days… is that the least you could do for us?” He asked whoever was on the other side of the phone. The moment went on for a while as Formosa seemed to try and arrange something complicated, one that seemed to bring him a rush of dopamine as he seemingly visibly began to show a small grin as the moment went on. “The order of Templars are coming with you? Why are they- oh… so that’s why. Well, if that’s the case, then the ball is now in your court… that’s not my call to make, but I could convince Miles to push back the merge by another week, same with Robert… Yeah, um… maybe. Good! Then that’s a day to abhor… pleasure as always, Hector.”

And with that, Formosa hung up the call. Putting it away, he now had the responsibility to give out the details, one he was unsure how to share with the other two who had waited in anticipation. Even without telling a word directly, all of them knew that there was some heavy news for them, especially what it would entail for their future.

“Well? What’s the news?” Print asked, barely keeping himself together in his wait of anticipation.

Looking to both his colleagues, Formosa had a moment to himself, trying to find the words to tell them the news.

“Then would you care to make a guess?” He dared them.

“You sure?” Flick asked, making the first attempt between them. “Because if I were to give, I'd bet it'd have something to do with a new alien species? Cause that would be a surprise since our lot had nothing has rivaled us since we started mass-producing that particle accelerator.”

A good attempt, all things considered. Not too farfetched as Formosa had hoped, but it was always a possibility he’d consider if he was asked. “And you, Print? Care to take a shot at a guess?”

Thinking over it quickly, Print could only connect the dots and make some speculation, but he had a pretty good idea of what it could be.

“Guessing by how Hector seemed to be the one trying to appease you, I’m guessing this would have something to do with operation Luster Dawn. Am I wrong?”

“Bingo,” He responded, “sorry you didn’t guess right, Flick. But as you could guess, we’re going to receive some more backup, plus, Hector is going to do a bit of an upfront observer, supposedly to reassure the state of our progress.”

“Then that would mean that there are new arrangements, yes? What did he say about these... changes?” Print asked, growing ever more concerned by what he heard. If his guess was right, that would mean big management changes.

“You could guess on and on, Print.” He replied, looking at him eye-to-eye to make sure the point was drilled. “But everything goes by the book. And delicate times call for a delicate hand, they’re going to bring a bit more ‘necessities’ from here on, at least until everything sizzles down eventually.” Formosa confirmed.

Still confused, Flick decided it was high time to get the explanation he needed. “So what exactly is happening?”

Looking at his confused friend, Print decided he was the one who was going to explain it to him. “Well, to put it simply, they're bringing a tighter leash around our necks…”

“And here I thought we were already in a tight schedule,” He murmured to himself, “So what is this? Are they sending the righteous hand of God on our doorstep? Or is it just empty words? ”

“As a matter of fact, they are indeed sending some,” Formosa responded, as it took Flick a few moments to realize what he just heard, but once the realization hit, it hit him like a mule.

In one fell swoop, as the information began to be processed in his mind, he began to shiver and crawl into a huddle. Hugging himself as he rocked back and forth in a vain attempt to give himself some reassurance, seemingly out of fear from the information he had just ingested.

“Well, do you think Turncoat would be able to hold it in?” Print asked Formosa, doing small pats and trying to give Flick the words of reassurance he so desperately would probably need.

Needless to say, the attempts to comfort Flick, who was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, did do a small part in preventing another outburst. On another note, all four of them, including Turncoat, knew that they were just a small cog in what is essentially the interstellar empire of humanity, at least compared to those who make said cogs turn. And if Formosa and his group hadn’t heard of this group’s infamy, they’d have shrugged it off as just another group that was a miracle to even be fortunate enough to exist in this era.

And the ‘Order of Templars’, although not as influential as those on the top brass, are some of the few groups that keep on oiling the wheels of humanity’s empire. Now, as one of many groups that made up just some of the religious proxies of humanity, some might say that they’re, in fact, inquisitors in all but name. Although that is a fear with some reasonable assumption, they are anything but that, serving more under the top brass. That said, despite their on occasion ‘holier than thou’ radicals, which is itself a different proxy to the main group, they were a fresh breath when it comes to trying to ask for suggestions and advice, although they were still largely separated from politics and debates.

Raising his hoof to give his colleagues some reassurance, Formosa answered Print’s question. “Now, now… I’m sure Turncoat would manage, but I think he’ll have a little fit over Hector coming over.”

Just then, Flick whispered something in his small, sorry state. “D-do you think they’re still w-watching?” he whispered in fear, barely even audible despite Print being as close to him as is.

“Hush now, everything’s going to be fine.” Print said, his words of reassurance falling flat.

All they could do was wait, and prepare for the worst if they could. It was the thought of being unable to do more than scared them, but it was something they'll have to deal with.

Now, they had to prepare, and Formosa just had a pony in mind to visit. “Well, I need to go, send me a crystal or paper and I know you know who to go to for that. I need to check on something, so until our next meeting lads,” he said, taking his leave as he waved a hoof, leaving his two colleges to try and sort out Flick's sorry state.

Using his magic, he teleported himself to the outskirts of Ponyville, to a path that led to the Everfree.

“This won’t do…” he mumbled to himself, already making plans and changes while he walked down the path of no return.

Comments

[CasualReader]

This whole chapter flew over my head. Exposition about politics is too much for my brain.
I hope all this lore isn't needed to understand what happens next.

[yonalkaru]

DAMN, that update took a long time!

[Im a B O X]

11309546
Yes... unfortunately, I had some things going on, plus some other fics on the works, so dividing my time isn't my strongest suit :(

11309651
Well, the next chapter will serve more as a buffer, don't worry, what happens after will (hopefully) be a much simpler walk in the park.