A new man comes to Canterlot High to fill the vacancy of the Musics teacher; as usual, the sweet gentleman is more than meets the eye. Clever scams ensue.
Canterlot High School is in need of a new Music teacher, and Moon Shine, a proper gentleman, is there to offer his help. However, his occupation at school is merely a shield for some shady scams he's pulling for a mysterious employer, including break-and-entering, theft and smart cons. Fortunately or not, he is finding himself neck-deep in gorgeous ladies, some of which show certain interest in his personality...
Rated 'M' and tagged 'sex' for some lewd moments and pillow talk. And also cuz Meester told me so. Show some love for this solid mate. Just to get this out of the way: yes, the cover art is of the Con Artist Development, or something like that; me just Googled for some decent cover and found none better. I do not own neither the MLP:FIM or EG products, nor the cover art; all rights reserved to their respective owners. Phew.
“Don't stand up – just... uh, anyway you did already...” - grumbled the woman, taking a seat opposite to the man at the table in a small cafe; her face was effectively concealed with the hood of a black hoodie, casting a deep shadow from the dim light of a small lamp overhead.
“I know my manners around ladies, you know...” - shrugged the man, taking a seat. - “And rule number point-one says: 'A gentleman should rise from his place in the presence of a lady and greet her'”.
“Okay-okay, you're extremely well-behaved for a, uh...”
“Let's leave it there.” - the man deadpanned politely, accepting two cups of coffee he ordered beforehand and handing one to his guest. - “As I got it, you want me to run some errands for you, is that right?”
“Basically. Errands you're about to run are pretty... delicate.” - the lady rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her cup. - “Hmm, that was nice of you to order what I like most. Thank you.”
“Eh, nevermind. I do what's paying my bills, and I do good.” - the man flashed a smile from under his baseball hat shade. - “Anyway, back on the track: delicate errands? Like what?”
“I'll debrief you whenever I'll consider it necessary. Until then – mingle with the crowd. I mean, shake some hands, make some friends, hit on some girls, I dunno... get busy, long story short”.
“Got that... So, when do I begin?”
“Tomorrow morning, of course. Eight o'clock, come to the foyer and tell them you're the new one expected here; we want it nice and clean.”
“Got that. Eight o'clock, foyer, report to reception.”
“Yes, and do not forget your legend; it's a crucial part here.”
“Do not worry, Miss... Uhm, Ma'am...”
“Ma'am will do fine. So, thanks for the treat; I gotta go. I'm having a little busy evening ahead of me, and I don't want to be late.” - the lady stood up, strolling casually towards the exit. Standing in the arc, leading away from the alcove they've occupied, she turned around and smiled:
“Don't screw up. I have high hopes on you.”
“We'll see. Ma'am.” - replied the man, rising from the table and leaving money to cover the bill on the plate. - “No promises just yet – before the money talks.”
“That's the approach...” - praised the lady, walking away. - “Remember: eight o'clock – nice and clean.”
“Can do.” - replied the man, opening the door for a lady and bowing slightly. - “Ladies first.”
“You're a charmer...”
“Damn right I am, lady.”
***
“Wha? Wh-whu's calling?” - murmured Moon Shine, the new Canterlot High Music teacher, blindly reaching out for the buzzing phone. Squinting on the small screen, he managed to make out the digits and spewed profanities, groaning in dissatisfaction:
“Whu'd heck is frikkin wise enough to call at four A.M.?!” - he pointed the buzzing phone at the tiny plush owl, sitting on the nightstand and shook it accusingly:
“See that, your Excellence? People must've run out of oil in them heads, gears grinding stuck.”
Of course, his Excellence – the Grey Cardinal – never responded. He just stared on into the wall with the blank gaze of his beady, plastic eyes.
“Yes, Moon Shine 'ere... Uh – come again?.. No, you must've got the number wrong... No, ma'am, there's positively no man called 'Thunderlane' here, and there's no way he could've been... Ma'am? Ma'am?.. Can you hear me?... Gruh...” - groaned Moon, clicking the call off and presenting the gadget to the Cardinal:
“Some tipsy chick called me and asked for Thunderlane. As I said, oil running low, huh?.. Bleh. I'd better get some more shut-eye just in case...” - pulling the blanket higher over his shoulders, Moon Shine murmured for another couple of seconds and fell fast asleep.
He had a pretty big day ahead.
“Mister Moon Shine?” - a tall, slim, red-and-yellow haired girl inquired, scanning Moon with her turquoise eyes, checking with a clipboard in her hands. - “I'm Sunset Shimmer. Pleased to welcome you to the Canterlot High School, sir. I believe it that you're to replace Ms. Octave, our former teacher?”
“Yes, I am Moon Shine. Pleased to meet you too, young lady, and, of course – yes, I am here to fill the vacancy on musical classes.”
“That's great. I hope you'd like it here at CHS. Uh, fancy to have a tour – or should we jump straight ahead and get you all done with the formalities?”
“I'd absolutely hate to keep you occupied longer than necessary, miss Sunset; so, if it's fine with you, I'd like to sort out all the administrative issues firsthand, and then – if the offer is still standing – I'd just love to have a tour.” - Moon flashed the girl the most sincere of his sincere smiles, and she beamed in response:
“It's settled, then. Please, follow me to the Principle Celestia's office; I believe first of all you should report to her. Aaaand, she'll instruct you with the rest. Sounds good?”
“Sounds wonderful.” - replied the man, following the girl upstairs and letting his gaze wander around, catching the opulent interior of the school: marble, bronze, stained glass... W-w-w-wow...
“We're here: this is the door to Principle Celestia's study...” - Sunset Shimmer shifted from one foot to another. - “You go ahead, sir, and I'll, uh... go elsewhere.. If you'll need me – ask in the library, it's under the dome in the central section, can't probably miss it. So... Good luck?” - she reached a hand for a shake, smiling sheepishly – and caught Moon completely off guard. He blinked at the small hand reached out for him, then averted his gaze to the smiling girl, confused a bit.
Awkwardness dwelled for a brief second, until Moon beamed a smile back at her, vigorously returning a handshake:
“Thank you, miss Sunset, for all your help. Best of luck to you!”
“See you again, Mr. Moon, sir!” - the girl waved a hand at him and walked away, a slight spring in her step sending her red-and-yellow fire-ish mane into a slight bounce.
Moon Shine tugged on his collar, making sure everything was in perfect order, and knocked twice on the Principle's door.
“Come in!” - came the response and the man obeyed:
“Principle Celestia – I'm Moon Shine, here to fill the vacancy of the Music teacher.”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Moon – glad to have you here. Please, take a seat,” - gestured the woman, offering a hand for a handshake. - “and let us see through it”.
Time ticked around the clockface, as the conversation ran its way smoothly, papers changed hands, and finally the man rose from his seat, putting a folder under his arm, nodding his confirmation to the principle:
“Yes, I'll see to it, Principle. Which way is the staff department?..”
“To your left and down the hall, second last door to the right,” - replied the lady. - “Once you're done with that, I'll summon Sunset Shimmer, she'll guide you around.”
“No need to do that, ma'am – I'll get her. She left me extensive directions on where to seek” - nodded the man, leaving the study.
“Uhh... I hate that part...” - sighed the man, leaning against the wall outside of the school and lighting a cigarette. - “Feels like being interrogated – again and again. Bluh.” - pulling deep on the cigarette, he scanned through the papers in his folder. - “Meh, plannings, plannings... wait a sec... wuzzdat?” - squinting his eyes narrowly, Moon produced a neatly folded piece of paper, hidden nicely amidst the other documents. - “Hello, pretty...”
The paper read: “Good, you've made a way in. Settle in for now – I'll provide you with more specific information and debriefing on your upcoming assignments. Mingle with the schoolfolk, keep your head low, patch yourself an alibi. Eh, I'm not the one to give you the drill course. Bottom line, keep your head low, keep your eyes peeled.”
“I'd bet a bottom bit she's from staff department...” - mused the man out loud, oblivious to the fact that the cigarette burnt all the way down to the butt, threatening to burn his fingertips. - “Queer, I say – why would someone need that kind of thing working at the HR? Old grudge?”
“If I may?..” - inclined the voice from his left, making the smoker wince and drop the butt. - “Littering isn't allowed at the schoolgrounds, much as is smoking” - pointed out a tall pale lady, dressed in a formal suit with a crescent moon cameo brooch, holding a papercup and a paper bag.
“Beg pardon, uh?..”
“Vice principal Luna.” - she replied dryly, giving Moon Shine a thorough head-to-toes inspection. - “And you are?..”
“I so beg your pardon, ma'am...” - quickly putting a most sincere smile to his face, the man bowed slightly – in a gentlemanly way:
“The name's Moon Shine, and I'm the new Music teacher. Tis my first day.”
“Oh, nice to meet you, mister Moon Shine!” - vice principle lady returned the smile and gingerly accepted the handshake offered. - “Hope you'll like it here. But still, even though – and especially that you're now employed, the 'no littering – no smoking' rule applies. For your matter, it doubles.”
“Aw, shucks, ma'am. I'm mighty sorry...” - the wide smile flowed into a disappointed grimace. - “Won't happen again, promise.”
“Alright....” - Luna nodded graciously, landing the paper bag she was holding into a trash can. - “Mind if I ask you a question? Irrelevant one?”
“Sure, sure!”
“I couldn't help but hear your musings. About the HR and old grudge...” - the lady squinted. - “You mean this was happening at school?”
Moon Shine felt a trickle of sweat pouring down his spine: a chilling, prickly one.
“N-n-noo?..” - he half-inquired carefully, desperately trying to pull some resources off the paper he had folded neatly in his shirt pocket and redirect them to juice up the Lies Machine. - “'twas... uh...” - a brilliant idea popped up like a zit on the forehead of the prom queen right before the H-hour. - “I was just musing out loud on a mystery novel I've been reading!”
“Oh? A mystery novel? What's it called?”
“'Pros at Cons: Schoolfed', by Low Key Liesmith. Quite a fascinating read, I say!..” - rambling about a purely made-up fiction, Moon Shine was grinning internally; the Lies Machine in his brain was going full throttle, getting a load after a load of a perfectly plausible bullshit; she ate from his hands, and he could've seen it.
“My, you sure make it sound a delightful read, mister Moon...”
“Please, call me just 'Moon' or 'Shine', ma'am; I get itchy with formalities” - the liar retorted gently, giving Luna his best lady's man smile.
“Uh... right... Shine...” - the vice principle lady blushed slightly, raising a hand to flick away the strand lock of hair. - “Oh, just you look at the time! I must go now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Moon. See you around”.
“Aye, aye, ma'am – 'twas my pleasure...” - he bowed again, hiding a coy grin; he even opened the door for a lady, being rewarded with a grateful look over her shoulder.
“If this goes like this – I'll pluck this place clean like a chick...” - popping a joint, Moon Shine (?) lilted to himself, lighting another cigarette.
***
“'ello! Anyone here?” - poking his head into the library doors, Moon Shine asked out; the facility was quiet, save for the soft humming of computerware working. No sign of librarian, alas.
“I say, 'ello! Anyone? At all?” - treading carefully inside, he took a moment to gawk at the scale of the place: the central area of the library was situated under a huge frikkin' glass dome, generously pouring down sunlight, book dust dancing in the diagonal rays.
“Yush, everything 'ere looks dayum big...” - Moon Shine stuck his lower lip in admiration, nodding his approval.
“May I help you?” - a lady with pink-ish curly hair popped from behind the bookshelf, lowering her glasses a bit.
“I sure hope so, ma'am; I'm looking for a librarian here...” - nodded the man, stepping closer. - “I'm Moon Shine, the new...”
“...Music teacher. Yes, yes, I've been expecting you.” - smiled the librarian lady (no doubts what she was), stepping from behind the shelves; she was wearing a magenta blouse and a green skirt with a print of three smiling flowers on it. Camomiles or whatnot; pretty childish, but pretty adorable. Well, adorkable, snorted Moon Shine internally to his homegrown pun.
“I'm Cheerilee; teacher and part-time librarian here, at Canterlot High. And what's our new Music teacher's name?”
“Shime Noon... Er, mesay, Moon Shine!” - returning to reality from his inspection of librarian's eyes, the man reported. - “It's Moon Shine, ma'am.”
“Ugh, so official. We're colleagues, for Gog's sake!” - smiled Cheerilee. - “Call me just 'Cheerilee', drop the 'ma'am' part. Or, at least, save it for Principle and Vice Principle; they like it when they're treated with respect”.
“I sure guess they deserve it.”
“Why yes, they do. Anyway, what can I get ya for?” - Cheerilee cocked her head to the side, smiling.
“Your phone number... - uhh, I mean, I'd need some music books, please, if I may...” - Moon resisted the urge of slap-facepalm himself.
“Okay... uh... musicbooks...” - mused Cheerilee out loud, recalling something. - “Yes, I got it. Follow me, please.”
Said means done, and soon Moon Shine was equipped with the stack of blank music books.
“Thank you, Cheerilee. I guess I'll head to class now, uh...” - he managed to catch the one book falling from atop the stack and not drop all the others. - “Thanks for ye help. I owe one.”
“And I guess you'll have the chance to repay the debt, I say...” - Cheerilee smiled coyly, putting a small piece of paper into his chest pocket. - “Today. Six in the evening. Call me, tiger.”
“Okay...” - squeaked the man, and the library doors closed, cutting his dumbfounded face off for good.
“Aight, class!” - he called out, entering the room, greeted by the students standing up at his presence: “As you were. Sheesh, relax, people – I ain't any drill instructor McBallsosteel here; I'm your new teacher, and my name's Moon Shine...” - a few chuckles erupted from the last desks, as he was writing his name down in big letters on the blackboard. - “Yes, as funny as it sounds, Moon Shine. And no, I don't bootleg or any like that. I'm here to help you with any musical ambitions you've got, help you develop ye skills and so on. Questions?”
A couple of hands raised in the air.
“Yes? Can you, uh, introduce yourself?”
“Rainbow Dash's the name.” - grinned the girl with a rainbow-colored head, with a sharp, raspy, tomboyish voice. - “I'll jump straight to business, mister Moon Shine: you ever had a band to direct before?”
“Well, I've been in a band once, but as a member, not a conductor or director...”
“Eh, you'll be one now” - waved off the crazy athlete. - “Cuz Rainbooms here...” - she pointed out in a wide gesture. - “are at least twenty percent cooler than anything you might've seen and heard, like, ever!”
“Then why would you need a director?” - Moon inquired coyly.
“Meh... we might be just a tad bit rusty on some parts. And we wanna hit the big stage once. You in?”
“Sounds fun to me. I'll consider it. Come see me after hours” - nodded the man.
“Any more questions?”
Another hand raised.
“Yes, please?”
“The Great and Powerful Tr-r-r-rixie...” - boy did she rrrumbled that 'rrr' out... - “demands to know what kind of a band you were in?” - inquired the snub-nosed girl with a flamboyantly bright and glittery attire – some kind of an amateur illusionist? A show stopper?
“Uh, that was long ago, miss Trixie. I bet you were still a baby. We've ran a garage band – you know, college boys, blood running fizzy with beer, hands are itchy for something worthy... So we played something, as we thought, cutting-edge – much like the, you know, a Deaf Sentry? Nah? You know? Speed metal, with some fantasy and medieval tunes, eh? Like Minstrels and Haze? Doesn't ring a bell?”
“The Great and Powerful Tr-r-r-r-ixie demands to know the name of the band so she could find some records!”
“Oh, right. I doubt there'd be any – we never managed to make even an EP of it, but never hurts to try, I guess. We were called the Knight Owls. And yes, pun intended.” - chuckled Moon; another fake for the fakes pile.
“And what was your part? A lead guitar?” - piped in a young man with dark-blue hair and an emblem of checkered shield and a lighting bolt on his jacket.
“Or was it vocals?” - a girl with an intricately coiffed purple hair inquired, batting her eyelashes. - “Please, mister Moon, do not intrigue us any further, be a dear?”
“Meh, I was the guy with the percussion. Bagpipes, flutes, tumtums, heck, even a tambourine!” - at least that wasn't a complere fake – Moon did played the instruments listed. - “As I said, 'twas a strange blend of speed metal and a medieval tunes, with texts to match”.
“Like, dragons kidnapping princesses and brave heroes to save them?” - exaspirated the last girl to ask. - “Why, that's simply fabulous! Even though I, of course, have absolutely no idea what a 'speed metal' is...”
“It's like this, Rarity – may I, mister Moon?” - producing a guitar from the case, the fellow with a lighting and a shield inquired.
“Fire away, my friend – let's get some socks rocked!” - grinned Moon, kicking the amplifier to life.
The boy fiddled with his guitar's dials for a second, checked the strings – and the pure acoustic massacre unwinded; riffs rushed away, as if chased by the hounds of all seven Hells, as his fingers danced across the fretboard of the guitar; the amplifier barely withstood the power of rushing melody, and, as it came to crescendo, Moon was forced to turn the volume down a bit; as the melody came to its finish in a vibrating tremolo, the classroom erupted in applause; Moon was the first to do it.
“That was one mighty sock rocker, kid! What's your name?”
“Flash Sentry, sir. Thank you, sir!” - the boy beamed with well-earned praise.
“You get an 'A', my good man; keep it up!”
“So that is a 'speed metal'...” - blinked the girl who asked the question in the first place – Rarity, noted Moon Shine to himself – looking obviously zoned out with the sheer power of sound she was presented to. - “Why, this is absolutely preposterous – yet somehow fabulous! Oh, what an oxxymiron!”
“That's the Music for you, darling – built on paradoxes...” - Moon Shine lectured sagely, internally smirking to the sight of him getting authority at the students.
“So, this sorted out, let's speak of you, people. Are you playing or, maybe, singing? One at a time, you raise your hand, name yourself and identify your instrument, or, in case you sing, sing a note, eh? Sounds good?” - a murmur of approval rolled across the study.
“Let's get started!”
“Rarity Belle; playing a keytar and doing a back vocals”.
“Excellent, miss Belle! Next, please!”
“Rainbow Dash – s'me, yeah... I'm pretty much the most awesome guitar player here. And yes, I do sing as well. Just cuz I'm awesome”.
“Cool! Next!”
“Snowflake's the name!!” - roared the hulk of a guy – dayum, what does bodybuilding do to people... - “and I play VIOLIN!!!”
“Wow! A violin! That's just wonderful! Can I hear it sometime? Next please!”
“Flash Sentry! Guitar, sir!”
“Outstanding! Next!”
“Applejack's mah name, mis'r; Ah play bass at th'm Rainbooms and, eh, shucks...” - a blonde girl, spotted with freckles and sporting a Stetson blushed a bit. - “also doin' sum fancy back vocals.”
“Way to go, miss Applejack! Way to go! Next!”
“Oh-oh-oh-oh!! Me? I mean, it's me!” - the girl with bubblegum-pink fuzzy curly hair jumped (literally did) from her place, chattering with the velocity to rival the heli-mounted minigun: “Name's Pinkamena Diane Pie, but friends just call me Pinkie, and since I'm everyone's friend, everyone does call me that, and I'm a party planner – BOY I SURE DO LOVE TO PARTY!!! - and also I do drums at the Rainbooms, but actually I can play ANYTHING – a theremin, a triangle, a tube, a trombone, and oh that reminds me – I can also play a harmonica!!”
“Uhh... thank you, miss Pinkie... You were very informative. Keep it up! Next!” - shaking off the sudden fit of vertigo caused by strobing pink spot in front of his eyes, Moon Shine wrote down in his notebook “Pinkie: girl-orchestra”.
“Umm... I'm Fluttershy... I play tambourine at the Rainbooms, and also doing back vocals and, uh...” - the girl with curtain-like pink hair mumbled something inaudibly and hid behind her hair, as if startled with what she just said.
“Come again, miss Fluttershy? Speak up, please – I couldn't hear the last part! Come on, don't be so shy!” - encouraged Moon Shine, putting on his best sincere smile.
“meep” - came the frightened response from the scaredy cat.
“Please?”
“I also... I also write... song lyrics for the Rainbooms...” - whispered Fluttershy.
“Whoa, that's a mighty one! Best of luck to you, miss Fluttershy! Next!”
“The Great and Powerful Tr-r-r-rixie does whatever pleases her! And at the moment, she is pleased with singing and doing magic!”
“That's the show stopper, miss Great and Powerful! Thumbs up for you! Next!”...
The bell rang, indicating the end of the lesson and a recess; Moon Shine packed up his belongings and headed away from the class, checking with the curriculum he had in the folder from HR: seemed like he had only this one lesson today, so he was free to go.
In the lobby, however, he bumped into Cheerilee:
“Oh, hey! Done with your first day already? How's it been?” - smiled the part-time-librarian-pretty-lady.
“'twas good, I say; those kids sure have a knack for music.”
“Hehe, they do; you should've heard them at the Battle of the Bands; that was something sizzling hot – well, save for the small incident we've had...” - frowned Cheerilee, straightening her blouse. - “I guess you have to go now, don't you?”
“Well, I do... as much as I hate to do it.” - sighed Moon Shine, allowing her to play her little game.
“I gotta go too, so... Remember: today, six o'clock. I'll be waiting for your call – and you owe me one. You said that!” - winked Cheerilee, waving the man goodbye.
“Oh, I do...” - smirked Moon Shine, heading to the bus stop.
Once he got home and changed, the doorbell rang; sipping on a glass of cold milk, he opened the door and saw nothing. Bemused, he poked the head out of the door and scanned left and right, until a small voice attracted his attention from below:
“Mister, are you Moon Shine?”
A boy – about maybe eleven-twelve years was standing on his porch, holding an envelope.
“Aye, my good man – I am. What brings you here?” - Moon crouched to be at a boy's eye level and not to tower over him.
“I have an envelope for you, sir...” - puffing his chest out with pride, the child reported meaningful. - “here you are!”
“Why thank you!” - nodded Moon, accepting the envelope; he put it on the mirror stand, reaching for his wallet:
“There you are, sir – for your trouble.” - A handful of bits changed hands, and boy beamed at the sight of his honestly earned money, but quickly regained the attitude and just nodded seriously:
“Pleasure doing business with you, sir!”
“My pleasure. Best of luck and thanks again!” - smiled Moon, watching as the boy strolled down the path to the pavement and bounced away, filled with that child's joy he couldn't remember having for long.
“Heh, dem kids... Seen that, your Excellence?” - he showed an envelope to the Cardinal – an owl plushie. - “It says 'Mr. Moon Shine' and address. No return one. I wonder if there's a bomb in there of sorts...” - taking a bite of an apple, Moon Shine procured a paper knife from the drawer and opened an envelope.
Inside he found a paging device and a note – and nothing else. He even double-checked the envelope itself for watermarks – nothing, just a plain old envelope one might get in any post office, address and name printed on a laser printer, same is the note – same as the one from the HR folder.
He unfolded the note; it read:
“Good job today; I can see you taking your business seriously. Even though hitting on the librarian wasn't necessary, it's a nice touch. Just don't let it get in the way.
Back to business: take this pager. Once you'll turn it on, I'll get the message. From now on we'll keep in touch via this device: you report me, I debrief you of your further steps.
Now, for your first assignment: I want you to infiltrate the Crystal Prep Academy and find out what skeletons linger in the cupboards of Principle Cinche. I don't care which way you do that, but I need information.
Don't ever question the motives. I just want it done.
Once you're there, beep me.”
“See, your Excellence – looks like we've got some fun ahead of us. Not to mention that Cheerilee lass there...” - drawled the man with a sinister smile, a plan brewing in his noggin; of course, the plushie owl was silent, gazing at him with his plastic beady eyes, as Moon Shine peeled off the skin-coloured patch from his brow, revealing a massive scar, reaching his left eyesocket; he scratched the scar, grimacing at the sticky residue from the patch, and shot a glance to the wristwatch; half-past four. An hour and a half till he's due to call Cheerilee, but, being a gentleman – or, at least, considering himself one – Moon Shine was about to call the lady at least at quarter to six.
“That gives me an hour to do some research...” - he explained to the Cardinal, grabbing a fresh towel and heading off to the shower.
“Okay, time to call...” - rubbing his eyes, tired with the lousy laptop monitor with low frame change frequency, he reached his shirt and produced a paper Cheerilee gave him; clock chimed quarter to six silently, deafened out with the sound of buttons beeping:
“...and – done...” - Moon Shine mumbled, raising a phone to his ear. - “'ello? Cheerilee? Good evening, lady – your colleague here. Aye, that's me... Uh – were you in the middle of something? I mean, I'm interrupting? No? Oh. I see. I just thought it'd be, well, polite to call in advance... What's so funny? Eh?” - he himself started to chuckle. - “Aight, ma'am. Duly noted. Uh-huh, Flower Lane, 14, in forty minutes. Copy that. I'll be there. Sure. See you!” - he hung up, stretching his arms; a coy smile crept across the man's face.
“See, your Excellence, for a man like me, there's no better shielding than a desperate spinster schoolmarm,” - he explained, putting on a fresh pair of socks. - “Some smiles, some pep talk, some charisma – and she's eating from my hands, while willingly or not providing me some pretty damn durable alibi. Win-win situation, I say...” - buckling up the belt, Moon Shine concluded.
“Now for some cologne... and done.” - Inspecting the reflection in the mirror thoroughly, the man straightened his collar, slicked back the unruly strand above the forehead and dashed away, mentally running through the checklist: clothes – check, shaved face – check, shoes – check, cologne – check, flowers... Flowers.
After a quick stop at the nearest flower kiosk – he chose the bouquet of assorted roses – red, pink, yellow, blended – Moon Shine checked another point on the list and got on the bus to Flower Lane.
“Gog dammit...” - he swore under the breath when a bus ran into a traffic jam. - “That's the last thing I need...” - thought the man, checking with his wristwatch; it appeared he had still twenty minutes left, and Flower Lane was just seven minutes from this here point by bus – if not stuck in a traffic. - “Oh come on, Gogdammit!!”.
The prayers were heard – and he was standing on the Flower Lane in five minutes, as if the destiny wanted to compensate for the time he had lost stuck in traffic – the driver seemed to contract the just right kind of speed amok and was burning some rubber, like a speed demon – so the way that usually took four minutes was covered in one and a half, stops included,
“That's more like it...” - the man smirked, straightening the sheet of plastic flowers were wound into and absentmindedly reaching into the pocket for a cigarette – catching his hand at the last moment, however, opting not to smoke before going out with a lady; Moon recalled that he was told once – by his real close friend, who extended the definition of a 'friendzone' to new limits, that 'ashtrays' – as she dubbed smokers – usually smoke a lot before going out, which is pretty natural, 'cause them nervous; still, the mix of cologne odor and tobacco stench makes the going out a pretty repulsive experience.
Wristwatch clicked seconds away into the past, and Moon Shine waited patiently, bouquet put behind his back; what schoolfeeding in etiquette he received told that a small latency was appropriate for a lady, and a gentleman must patiently expect his date.
Ugh. Date.
Date?
Pretty much, he mused to himself, toying around with the thought. Well, of course there's no such thing as animal magnetism, or love at the first sight, there are only pheromones and organism chemistry...
...she's pretty though. Smart one, too, judging by how quick she held grasp of his pretty dumb advance. If not consider her just as a disposable shielding for his job, she might even be someone he'd experience some feelings towards.
But nah.
“Sorry to keep you wait, Shine...” - Cheerilee smiled sheepishly, appearing out of the blue in front of Moon Shine, effectively derailing his train of thought. - “Had a little... wardrobe emergency...”
“I don't think I can perceive the details...” - smooth one, halfwit, the man silently scolded himself.
“Yes, it's a, uh, girls' stuff.” - the teacher lady shrugged with a smile. - “Well, anyway – good to have you here...”
“My pleasure.” - Moon replied curtly, presenting flowers to Cheerilee. - “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.”
“Oh! Woah... thank you... I haven't got flowers since...” - she stopped short, blushing hard. - “Uh, let's not open the old wounds, shall we?”
“I wasn't going to open any wounds, if you ask me...” - the gentleman smiled encouragingly, offering an arm for a lady to hold.
“So, where shall we go? I've had a couple of places in mind...”
“Like what?” - Cheerilee coyly inquired, her eyes slightly gleaming.
“Well, first of all – I forgot to mention how absolutely stunning you look in that ensemble of yours; the dress really suits you, complimenting your eyes just fabulously...” - Moon rolled his eyes in awe.
“Awww, you charmer...”
“Whenever I say something, I usually mean it, ma'am...”
“Don't you ma'am me, or I'll call you 'Sir'!”
“Oh, I'd be totally content with it!” - the man laughed, accompanying Cheerilee's giggle. - “So, back to business. I had a couple of places in mind, as I said – the ones where a proper gentleman could get a lady for an evening...”
“Like what?”
“Well, should I say – a concert or a theater play, and then – a fancy dinner with a load of silverware and aqua con zitrone, served a la chef...” - replied Moon with a coy smile.
“The concert sounds just dandy, I say; though, I reckon, I'm a bit underdressed for the occasion...” - mused Cheerilee out loud. - “I really should've worn a full dress...”
“Let's break some rules and be rebellous, shall we?” - Moon lowered his glasses lower on the nose, making himself look like some kind of strict professor.
“Alright, sir – let's do it!” - Cheerilee shook her head vigorously, bursting into carefree laughter. - “What's on tonight?”
“Cello concert, Octavia Philharmonica; one good cellist she is, that lass...”
“Sound wonderful.”
“Cab!”...
...”Thank you, madame, sir, for your patronage. Your drinks will arrive in a minute. May I take the menus?” - the waiter inquired.
“Yes, please.” - replied Moon, handing over the leatherbound folders.
“That was a wonderful concert.” - Cheerilee sighed happily, her eyes still a bit hazy. - “The sounds of cello... I never expected and instrument with just four strings to hold such... such...”
“Power?”
“Quite so... That's the virtuoso for you, I say...” - sighed the lady, biting her lower lip thoughtfully.
Moon Shine just smiled, rubbing the patch: the brow was itching some bad, as if ants crawled all along the old wound, biting, nasty little buggers. He ignored the feeling for the whole evening, but now it was slowly reaching the critical mass against his tolerance.
“Say, you're a musician yourself, right?” - Cheerilee piped in haphazardously, effectively distracting the man from his turmoil.
“Yes, why?”
“Just though... Might it be that you're playing cello? It just looked so... uh...” - she never finished the sentence, but the hot blush – red hot, really – did the rest.
“Uh, sorry, I don't do cello.” - sighed Moon. - “I'm more of a percussions kind of guy. I do bagpipe, flute, tumtums, tambourine... Some guitar, occasionaly. But nah, no cello, sorry. And yes, Octavia sure made it look... well, sexy.”
“Moon!”
“Whaa? We're both grown people, Cheerilee – why so antsy about the natural things like that? The beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and you know it!”
“Yeah... I'm just... well, nevermind.” - the lady waved off the troubling question. - “So, you do bagpipes? How come?”
“Eh, long story.”
“Are we in a hurry?” - Cheerilee inquired, smiling and creasing a brow; the waiter arrived with the drinks:
“Marguerita – for madame; and for sir, I believe – single-malt whiskey?”
“Aye, aye, my good man; we shall paint the town red tonight, eh?” - Moon Shine accepted the glass of ember-brown drink, nodding his gratitude to the waiter.
“Certainly, sir. I wish you luck in that endeavour.” - replied the waiter, allowing himself a faint shadow of smile.
“Well – this one's to the meeting, I say?” - Moon proposed a toast, which Cheerilee accepted with a small cheer; they sipped the drinks, and for a brief minute sat silently, relishing the taste of their respective drinks and the sensation of warmth spreading in the body.
“So, Moon – mind if I ask you a personal question?” - Cheerilee asked sheepishly, twirling a lock of her hair around her index finger.
“Why not, go ahead.”
“What's with that patch on the brow? I mean, don't worry, it's good, virtually undetectable, but, you know – girls...” - shrugged the lady, smiling. - “We are all about small details...”
“Uh... well...” - the man shifted on his chair. - “Let's say, it won't be pretty if I peel it off right here, and – besides – I don't want to excuse myself for a bathroom to just return a Tommy Scar-Face.”
“A scar, huh? Got in a fight?..” - Cheerilee's eyes gleamed, as she took another small sip of her cocktail, licking her lips in just-not-yet-seductive manner.
“He-he, you wish...” - the Lies Machine kicked in again, full throttle. - “'twas just some accident on the farmlands. I was putting some nesting boxes onto the trees – you know, spring time, old trees that bear fruit no more – they're perfect for those; so, one day my foot slipped on the bark and I just slid down all the way, collecting all the branches with me face on the way down; the last one broke, leaving me a keepsake on me eye; now I don't do nesting boxes anymore.” - explained the man, taking a small sip of whiskey.
“Ohh... That's unfortunate...”
“Well, I wasn't objecting much; I was, lemme think... fourteen? nay, fifteen at the time. I even refused to go to the surgeon to fix that, till it healed itself. I was proud over me head, really – gave me the badass look, lassies 'ere all going nuts about it...” - laughed Moon Shine, internally wincing at his own lies he was so shamelessly spewing at the lady. Of course he'd lie about that – he had a legend to keep, and he couldn't just spill the beans.
After all, he was an employed man – an artist in his business – and he held certain pride in what he was doing. Even if it involved feeding an attractive (and attracted) lady with complete horsefeathers.
“Huh... So, you're wearing a special skin-tone patch to conceal it? Not to startle people, am I right?” - inquired Cheerilee, taking another sip of her drink; Moon could say it started kicking in. Tequila's pretty wicked stuff, especially on ladies. They're tender systems.
“Absolutely.” - the man nodded his approval, and the waiter served their order...
...”...you were saying?..” - giggled Cheerilee, taking a tall drink of her second glass; as for Moon, he didn't still finish the first one.
“Well, yes, he was just standing there, looking at me with googly eyes, and I was holding this bloody heavy sack – I swear to Gog, it weighed like a ton! - and just blocking me way through!”
“And what did you do?!”
“I... well, I opened me big mouth and soaked him – head to toes – in the worst wasted-porter-style obscenities I could muster at the moment; I mean, just imagine – you were hauling this here sack, as tall as yourself, filled with what felt like leaden weights to the brim, all the way from the warehouse, all the time uphill, and you can't just stand on the place – you have to move on, coveting a sweet release of the burden – and here he stands, not a single flicker of thought in his bloody eyes, and he be all like...” - Moon grimaced, mimicking the way the mysterious frustrator looked like, and Cheerilee just rolled with laughter, incapable of holding it to the ladylike giggles – she was roaring with a full-blown laughter fits.
“Oh... oh my ribs... ohmy...” - she managed to breathe out, wiping some tears the laughter managed to squeeze out of her. - “I can imagine that...”
“Oh you better don't. Because when he finally processed what I was saying and what my motives were, he just rocketed away from there, rushing all the way to the warehouse and opening a doors for me, looking at me as if I was a Gog incarnate or whatnot...”
“And in the end, what was in the sack?!”
“Apples. Bloody apples. Red, green, yellow, heck, I wouldn't have been surprised if there were the purple and blue ones, I swear! And that was the top-priority package I was meant to deliver on me two legs, can you imagine?!”
“Oh my... Moon, darling... please, spare me, I fear I cannot laugh anymore or I'll just pop... oh...”
“That'd be unfortunate. I do not want to glue you back from bits and pieces – this would absolutely wreck your beauty.”
“Awww, you charmer...” - giggled Cheerilee, downing the remains of her Marguerita. - “Hey, listen up.” - she gave the man a stern, classroom look. - “You hitting on me or what?”
“Well...”
“No 'wells', mister – yeas or a noah?” - looks like all that tequila finally kicked in: slurred speech, gleaming eyes, coy smile... bedroom eyes.
“Uh, mostly yes.” - quickly replied Moon Shine, downing the remains of his glass.
“Yur place or mien?” - Cheerilee let one of the dress' brace strips slide down from her shoulder, exposing a tender skin.
“You decide.” - replied Moon, quickly paying the bill and adding some generous tips.
“Let's go yurs, mien'z a rek...” - giggled Cheerilee, hugging a man and stumbling away from the restaurant.
“Cab!”...
...”Well, mi casa es sui casa, miss Cheerilee; come on in. The bathroom is this way if you need one, and there's the living room... In case you wanna change, I can whip something up in a sec... and, I guess, this calls for a pick-me-up?” - Moon Shine smiled knowingly, locking the door.
“Uh, yup, I coulda use a change...” - Cheerilee smiled tipsily, clambering away from her shoes and stumbling towards the living room. - “I'll be there if you need me...”
“Take a seat, have a rest; I'll be up in a sec” - nodded Moon, dashing to the wardrobe to get the fresh change.
“Uhhh... What to give, what to give...” - he idly scanned around the half-empty wardrobe: his old camo uniform – still bearing all the insignia – a neat stack of T-shirts, stack of jeans, some shirts, empty hanger from a suit he was wearing...
Finally, he opted to pick a loose T-shirt and shorts for Cheerilee – hoping that they wouldn't be either too loose or too tight, as that one lady there sure had some curves to her – and for himself he threw on a singlet and knee-cut jeans; such a homelike look.
“Now for the secret pick-me-up a la chef...” - producing a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, Moon Shine quickly poured some into the blender, added some tomato juice and whatnot other ingredients of the vicious brew he was concocting; the kitchen appliance's motor buzzed quickly, and, pouring the resulting drink into a tall glass and grabbing a change of clothes, he headed towards the living room.
No Cheerilee was present there.
“Dayum.” - stumbling over the coffee table, Moon managed to keep the drink from spilling, but dropped the set of clothes; muttering something probably heavily censorable, he put the glass on the table and crouched to pick up and fold the clothes back up.
“Hey Moon...” - Cheerilee called in a sultry, deep voice. - “Like what you see from there?..”
“Whu?..” - raising his head, Moon Shine felt his jaw dropping.
Cheerilee was standing in the bedroom doors, leaning against them; she bit her bottom lip, giving the man a look of a hungry huntress, eyeing down her prey. Truth be told, Moon Shine did took his time to look at Cheerilee from this new perspective: where normally he was a good head and a half taller then her, now he had just a perfect vista of the lady's body; he took his time to scan every curve, hugged by the fabric of the dress, awestruck...
...but boy wasn't he prepaired for what came next.
In one fluid motion Cheerilee dropped the gown, stepping graciously away from it and presenting herself to the man completely exposed.
“Like what you see?..” - she inquired again.
Moon Shine managed to wrestle his jaw into submission once again, automatically standing at attention:
“Rule number one of a proper gentleman: in a presence of a lady a gentleman must stand up straight and greet the lady...” - he stuttered out, feeling a strange numbness in his mind.
“Well, that makes the two of you, I see...” - giggled Cheerilee to her own innuendo, rocking her hips seductively. - “So?..”
“I – stop!” - Moon Shine shook his head, backstepping one step. - “Cheerilee, you're inebriated, and this might be considered as me taking advantage over you.”
“Am I?” - smirked Cheerilee, tracing her fingers down from her neck; Moon tried to fight the urge to swallow the lump in his throat – and failed miserably; dayum was that lady sensual... - “Come on now. Don't be skittish, honey... We're both grown ups, remember?..” - with each word she stepped an inch closer till she was pressing Moon against the wall, smiling to him, looking upwards to his eyes. - “And since there are two consenting adults... who cares what happens in the bedroom?..”
“I... I got you a change...” - Moon Shine grabbed the last straw he had, trying to regain whatever semblance of control at the diversioning situation.
“I'll need it... later...” - Cheerilee's tender hand cupped his jaw, pulling man's head lower and closer. - “But for now... I need something other.”
“Consenting adults my face...” - the last thought flashed in Moon's mind, before the wave of lust rushed into him, washing away everything else...
...clock on the wall chimed eleven o'clock in the evening, and Cheerilee, disheveled, but obviously content, planted a small kiss on Moon Shine's scar, cuddling closer to the man:
“Let's cuddle?..”
“Sure.” - he replied, embracing the lady; she sighed contently, caressing his shoulder:
“You know – don't put that patch on anymore. You look way much better as is. And with that patch – for me – it looks like someone, who sucks at Photoshop, tried to fix the scar by simply painting over it.”
“Well... Alright. No more paints.” - chuckled Moon, twirling a lock of Cheerilee's curly pinkish hair around his finger.
“Besides, you really look badass with the stuff. And I like baad boys...” - she blew him a raspberry and laughed happily.
“Duly noted!” - Moon Shine reported mockingly, stretching to attention, crossing eyes and saluting the ceiling.
“You dummy!” - laughed Cheerilee, poking the man into the side with her sharp fingernail. - “But that's so fine with me...” - she sighed, fiddling with his neckchain:
“You've been to an army?”
“No – why?” - Moon's guts froze at the question.
“Dog tag?..”
“A keepsake from a friend. He moved abroad, and... well, for some pretty queer reason, he decided that I'd get the most use from having his dog tag...” - Machine of Lies screeched with all the cogs, coughing out virulent fumes, but it worked – coarsely. - “...though, well – it was a symbolic gesture. We were friends from the very childhood. Sometimes I miss that bummer.”
“I guess he's doing well...” - Cheerilee planted her head onto the man's chest. - “And the tattoo? It's an owl, right? But... well, it's wing seems off somewhat – like made of metal. A wing-blade, I'd say... I've seen that one somewhere...”
“Aye, I played in a band. Well, a garage band. Knight Owls. We did something that we thought at the time was damn fresh – and it was a sick blend of speed metal and medieval tunes. You know, like Deaf Sentry? Ring a bell?”
“Wait... Lion Eyes? Minstrels and Haze? Wow!!” - Cheerilee perked up. - “They were my absolute favourite when I was at high school!”
“Well, we started maybe two years before these guys. Which makes... oh man. I guess I was nineteen at the time. Oh Gog, I feel old and wrinkly...” - chuckled the man.
“You don't feel so to me, if that's any consolation...” - smirked Cheerilee, giving Moon her best bedroom look. - “So? The tattoo?”
“Uh, yeah. You know the garage bands – their brains are fizzy with beer, blood hot as a volcanic lava, and ambitions just keep sprouting and blossoming; so we all came up with the same design – that knight owl, with them blades for wings... kind of a 'teambuilding', or rather, team bonding piece...”
“That's really nice...” - sighed Cheerilee. - “And what happened to your band?”
“We just hit the state of decay. Lead guitarist got junky, vocalist – drank himself to insanity, others just split from the band... So, there were only me and the drummer left, and what good can you do with a guys who only do drums and percussion? Well, we tried running some gigs like 'bagpipes and drums' for some fans of Celtic music – even tried to roll into a jig dance courses as the musicians – and then we just parted ways...” - shrugged Moon, fighting with the starting migraine; his brain was incapable of handling that much stress with the endorphines-jagged Lies Machine.
“This is sad... Well, I guess such things happen.” - Cheerilee threw the hair away from her eyes, allowing Moon to sneak a magnificent peek on her bosom. - “And now you're a teacher.”
“Yup.”
“I know you'll do well. I can see it...” - rewarding the man with a kiss on the cheek, Cheerilee clambered out of bed and stretched graciously:
“I'm hitting the shower; you with me?”
“I'm afraid shower fits only one person at a time. As much as I'd like to rub your back, it's pretty much risky...” - shrugged Moon Shine. - “You go ahead. Ladies first. Fresh towels are on the rack, And there's some pick-me-up on the coffee table in the living room – a la chef. Strongly recommend to drink it down; trust me, morning would be brighter”.
“Noted!” - chirped Cheerilee, fleeing to the bathroom.
Moon Shine waited until he heard the sound of water running – and then jumped out of bed as well, ruffling the tuft on Cardinal's head:
“I'm sorry, your Excellence – the confession would have to wait.”
Scurrying through the pockets of his jacket, he located what he was looking for – the pager. Indicator flashed one unread message:
“I see you've took the part of alibi way seriously. Don't let it get in the way.”
Moon rolled his eyes, texting the response:
“Research done today; official sources hold no information. Will run through some old friends tomorrow, infiltrate and search. Reports would be made once entered the facility.”
The response came quick and short:
“Good luck; don't mess up – and I mean the girl too.”
“Your Excellence – sometimes I feel like someone's biting more than one can chew, safe for swallow...” - grunted Moon Shine, addressing the plushie owl. - “I'm getting pretty pissed off with this 'know-it-all' attitude”.
Of course, the Grey Cardinal remained silent, smiling his vaguely mysterious and knowing smile.
“See you later!” - chirped Cheerilee, closing the door behind herself and making a beeline to the expecting cab: she still had some time to rush home to change and make it to school to the beginning of the classes; Moon watched her board and drive off, and only then did he dress up, make a quick phone call and leave home.
In twenty minutes he was already sitting on the bench at the square, hidden by the dense bushes from any stranger looks; he was expecting an old friend, and he surely knew where to look for.
Another five minutes ticked away, and Moon lit a cigarette; the Sun was still pretty low, and the bustling morning crowd just came to pass, leaving him completely unnoticed.
“Rungo...” - he called out, making a robust man swerve on his heels and march towards him in a disciplined manner; he saluted Moon Shine, and so did he:
“As you were, sergeant. Glad to see ye, old dawg...”
“Oi, me too, mate, me too...” - a firm reverse handshake was shared, indicating the identical tattoos on the men's forearms – an owl with cast iron bladewings. - “What makes you seek me help, captain, sir?”
“I'm working on one case here, fellow – and I want you to provide me with some master keys.”
“IDs?”
“Among other things – yes. I also need a “1SPYW17HMYL177l33Y3” unit.”
“Hmmm... Sir, IDs are one thing, but the “ 1SPYW17HMYL177l33Y3” is...”
“Don't you give me that 'off-limits' crap, Rungo. I know you can do it. I have faith in ye. And don't worry, you'll get your toys back safe and sound.”
“Something quiet?”
“Pretty much. Looks like a small bitching feud, if you ask me.”
“Bluh.”
“I say, quite right, mate. So, knowing you, you sure do have a stash of all kinds of interesting gimmicks you smuggled, eh? Come on, ye solid mate, I know...”
“Quite so, sir, Well... You need ears with that?”
“You're what, a cashier in fast food joint? Course I need ears.”
“Good. I will get to it immediately and you can get it in three hours, tops.”
“What's the holdup?”
“Sir, I have to reroot the BIOS: those we've been using are morally outdated in years; and also it needs some repairs.”
“Make it two hours.”
“Sir, yes sir.”
“Good. Dismissed.” - Moon saluted to his former (and present) subordinate – and, as he was leaving, he called him again:
“Oi Rungo?”
“Sir?”
“When it's done – beer's on me.”
“I'll remember that, sir. And make it double.” - grinned Rungo.
“Don't get too cocky.”
“Sir, yes sir.”
“And drop the attitude, mate! Tis not a drill no longer!”
“Aight, mate.”
“That's more like it. I expect the wires in two hours. Dismissed.”
“Will do.”
Once the Rungo man left, Moon smoked down, stomped the butt and called another number:
“Good day, ma'am. Can I hear mister Swift Quill? Uh-uh, got it... It is urgent, really. Who's asking? Sea Breeze is asking. Thank you. Hey Quill. Yeah, got a thing for ye... mmph... hey, we're talking bits or what? Hey man, grow some consciousness!” - Moon Shine [Sea Breeze] let out a heavy sigh, - “You're taking my pants off me, you know? Guh, what a cheapskate you are sometimes. Okay. Listen carefully...” - Moon quickly debriefed his informer on an information needed. - “Good. I'll be waiting for your email. Thank you, Quill, my good man. I'll transfer the money this instant. Yes. And Quill? What you're going to send me is better be fresh. Yes. I ain't paying bits for old news, mate – for old news I pay coal. Dispatched in trains. Good. Okay, g'luck!” - Moon hung up the phone, exhaled loudly: conversations with Swift Quill had always been pretty unnerving.
After finishing the banking and transferring, he moved back home, opened a secret compartment of the wardrobe, producing a black formal suit, a wig and a small metal case.
“Gog I hate this part...” - Moon Shine sighed, sitting down in front of the mirror and opening the case.
The next hour he was busy turning himself into completely another person – colour contacts, patch to hide the scar, wig, some intricate plastic constructions went into the nostrils and behind cheeks, changing facial features completely; the only thing left was the nose, so Moon applied some clay-like material to the nosebridge, forming a decent hunch; as the result, from the mirror stared a completely different person – unruly spiky black hair, punching-blue eyes, hunched nose with flaring nostrils, high and prominent cheekbones – and the specially tailored formal suit completed the look.
“Good.” - remarked the man, who was known by the name of Moon Shine and Sea Breeze, inspecting himself from all sides. Picking up the phone, he made one call and named and address.
In ten minutes Rungo stepped into his apartment with a briefcase; he automatically saluted, got scolded again, and further magic commenced:
first, Rungo took a picture of a man and printed it out; once the picture was good to go, he cut it to the right size and glued it to the filled ID blank of some governmental department, handing the document to Moon Breeze/Sea Shine/whatever this man's name was.
Second, he attached some wires to his body under the shirt and placed a small flag badge onto the formal suit jacket's chest pocket; checking something on his cellphone screen, the masqueraded man nodded, plugging in another jack.
“So, sir, here's your ID, here's the legend behind it. Works like a charm, I'm telling you.”
“Quit 'sir-ing' me, Rungo. I said, it's not a drill anymore.”
“Sorry, old habits die hard. There. You're set and ready.”
“Hand me the briefcase.”
“Here.”
“Okay. Here I come.”
“Godspeed, lad!”
“Same here...” - mumbled the masqueraded Moon Shine, catching a cab.
Meanwhile, in Canterlot High School
Vice Principle Luna knocked three times on the door; a come in call responded, and she entered the flooded with light study of her older sister, Principle Celestia.
“Hello, sister – what brings you here?” - inquired the principle, raising her head from the papers she was working with, taking off her work glasses. - “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I believe you might, Tia...” - responded the blue-haired lady, taking a seat; she squinted uncomfortably at the bright solar rays, pouring in through the windows, and Celestia immediately lowered the curtains, dimming the light to pleasurable dusk. - “I was wondering about the new Music teacher...”
“Moon Shine? What bothers you?”
“Nothing does, sister – it's just that today in my office I've found a project – your project, in particular – of starting a fundraising concert program for the school. Pray tell, you think he is capable of conducting a whole concert by himself? I mean, I've had a small talk with him, and...”
“I've seen his CV, he's got good recommendations from his previous employers... And, well, he does know the subject – what's there to ask for?” - Principle Celestia cocked her head to the side, creasing a brow at her sister. - “Is there something about his personality that concerns you?”
“No... and yes... but not quite. I cannot just put a finger on it, Tia – something just feels off about the whole thing, you see... I've never got to see the last quarter's financial report, so this fundraising issue hit me directly out of blue; is there something we need to talk about?” - the concern on Luna's face was pretty much obvious, so Celestia sighed, clasped her hands in front of her chin and replied:
“You do remember the wrecks caused first by Sunset Shimmer's... scheme? And then those Siren girls? And, to top off all that – the Friendship Games accident? Well, the last one was pretty harmless, but still the government never supported our restoration efforts; it all was on the house, so to say. And yes, the fact that I'm starting a fundraising campaign is due to that we will need funds for the coming school year: some equipment needs repairs, some needs complete change, stocks are running low – Chemistry, Biology, Science classes – it all rounds up into a handsome sum. So, I believe, you see reason in the fundraising, right?”
“About that – I do, yes. But how are we going to pull this off? Like the battle of the bands?”
“I considered the idea, but then recalled that the whole ruckus was caused by Siren's interference; of course, no one outside the school should know of it – and you was personally directing the campaign amongst students. Not a single man or woman from the Department should know that whatever damages we've suffered were due to any supernatural forces – be that Sunset Shimmer's incident, the one with Sirens or the Friendship Games. For the record, it was all a technical flaws – collapse of the building due to structural weakpoint downbreak, Siren's incident – the light music was haywire, causing hallucinations, and the Friendship Games... the waterpipes blew up due to exceeding pressure. Bottom line is, I just want to make it a concert – a plain nice concert. That's about all. People would come to the concert, drop a bit of entry fare and enjoy cultural show.”
“With no Snips and Snails and their preposterous hip-hop, I presume?..” - smiled Luna.
“The casting would define the participants. And I believe that we might also merge effort with the Crystal Preps Academy – would you mind getting in touch with Dean Cadence or Shining Armor so that they would, maybe...”
“Tia, do you really believe Principle Cinche would even allow a though of any collaboration – let alone cooperation after the Friendship Games events? I believe the chances are really, really slim. If there are any in the first place.”
“I know, Lulu...” - sighed the elder sister. - “Principle Cinche sure does hold the grudge for us for, as she puts it, humiliating her and stealing her victory. I've heard she got schooled thoroughly at the Department for... well...”
“Yes, I've heard that. Rumors travel real fast around the place, sister.” - nodded Luna, rising from the chair. - “So, conclusions?”
“Talk to Moon Shine. Tell him about the project. We want his collaboration – and please, try to convince at least Dean Cadence to take part. Shining Armor would be wonderful, too, since, as a prefect, he has authority in the body of students; he might also be our trump card”.
“Will do, Tia,”
“Thank you, Lulu...” - the principle smiled at her sister as she left, returning to her paperwork.
Back to Moon Breeze/Sea Shine/whatever that guy's name is...
Moon Shine (let's leave it at that) approached the entrance of Crystal Prep Academy, almost not startled with the opulence of building; honestly, one wouldn't see just two crystal obelisks, protruding proudly into the sky in attempt to pierce it with its crystal needles – and not just some fancy obelisks those were, but towers, holding staircases and studies; he checked his ID badge – fake through and through, even though perfectly legit – he just didn't ever belonged to the facility the badge presented.
Stepping into the cool, quiet, echo-y lobby, he glanced both sides and coughed, attracting attention of the security guard, who was peacefully napping at the desk:
“Excuse me?”
“Whu? - wuh? - aw, shucks, mighty sorry, fair sir – can I see some ID?”
Moon leaned closer, presenting his ID badge to the security, and stated:
“My name is Tide Wave, and I am a representative inspector of Security and Privacy Division of Educational Department. I have been dispatched to the Crystal Prep Academy in order to run an inspection, here are the credentials...” - he flashed a plastic file sheet to the dumbfounded guard, putting it back into the briefcase as quick as it appeared. - “and I need to see anyone in charge. Principle Cinche would be optimal.”
“Ehh – sorry, sir, mister inspector, sir – principle Cinche is nawt available at the moment; she's having a va-vacation...” - stuttered the astonished guard. - “I believe you should see Dean Cadence, she's running the place at the moment... I can summon a man to lead you to her...”
“That would be good.” - nodded Moon Wave/Tide Shine/Whatever, still keeping the stony face.
“Prefect Shining, report to the security post one at the main lobby; repeat, prefect Shining, report to the security post one at the main lobby...” - mumbled the security guard into his walkie-talkie; it replied with some static-interfered signal. - “He'll be here in a minute, sir, mister inspector... I beg your pard'n, we didn't expected any of your folk coming around... Might be that principle Cinche did not informed us...”
“This appointment was urgent and as surprising for me as it is for you.” - deadpanned Moon. - “Department is concerned with the fact that the students of the Academy involved in recent Friendship Games sporting events were also jeopardized with whatever accident occurred at the Canterlot High during the Games, so I am being sent here to inspect, first of all, your facility, and then – Canterlot High.”
“Sir, I'm student prefect of Crystal Prep Academy, Shining Armor. We never expected you to come, hence beg pardon for such disarray.” - Shining Armor – a tall, well-built young man with unruly dark-blue hair piped in, offering a handshake. Moon accepted, nodding his approval:
“As I said, this was a kick out of the blue for me as well, mister Armor. So, shall we not waste more time – I'd like to talk to the official in charge”.
“Dean Cadence is now in charge of the Academy, since Principal Cinche is on the vacation. Please, follow me, and I'll lead you to her office.” - nodding a dismiss to the guard, Shining Armor led Moon Shine across the cool echoing halls into one of the crystal obelisks; they ascended in silence, only the sounds of footsteps resonated spookily in the crystal walls, that were fracturing light as they pleased, creating an intricate pattern of rainbow splatters all around.
“Dean Cadence's study is right here; allow me to warn her beforehand, sir... if you don't mind, it is.” - Shining Armor stared intently at the faux inspector, awaiting reaction; Moon counted three heartbeats and nodded:
“I don't mind.”
The door closed behind Shining Armor, and Moon used the pause to activate the recording program on his cellphone; the flag badge on his chest pocket buzzed to life, capturing high-definiton video footage of whatever was going on.
“Please, sir, come in; Dean Cadance is expecting you.” - reported Shining Armor, and, with the approving nod from the 'inspector', ran downstairs, speaking in his walkie-talkie.
“Dean Cadance, I am inspector Tide Wave of Security and Privacy Division of Educational Department,” - Moon introduced himself, showing his ID badge and a credentials. - “and I am here to inspect the facility to the matter of any security and privacy flaws.”
“Why yes, greetings, sir... Please, take a seat.” - Dean Cadance, a young lady with her hair dyed (was it a natural color?) in magenta, dark-blue and ochre-yellowish, smiled at him warmly, but her big purple eyes gave out the utter shock and horror she was in. She nervously straightened her pink jacket, aligning the crystal-carved heart-shaped brooch on her jacket flap. - “Tea, coffee, maybe?..”
“No, thank you, miss Cadance.” - Moon allowed himself to smile sparingly. - “Don't be so unnerved; take a seat, please, milady, and we can discuss this issue through and through”.
“Uh – yes, sure, sir.” - Cadance seemed a bit relaxed, taking a seat; she crossed her ankles under the chair, putting her hands, however, to the railing of an armchair; she sure knew how to present herself.
“So, miss Cadance – the Department is concerned with what happened at Canterlot High during the last Friendship Games sports event – it is known that the technical flaws occur, yes, but this jeopardizes not only the students of CHS, but also children from your school involved in activities; so, knowing that Crystal Prep Academy has a spotless record as one of the top-notch educational facilities in the state, we are concerned to make sure there are no... issues that might possibly unwind into accidents. As I've mentioned, we also govern over the privacy of educational facilities' documentation, inner information and so on. Bottom line is: here's the credentials I have, and here are my allowances. I need you to read through them and then we can discuss whatever points you find dubious. The goal of this is to let you know what am I doing here, and to get your permission to whatever actions I must execute in order to carry out my orders.”
Cadance scanned through the credentials, checked the stamps and signatures, and took the list of allowances. Moon Shine waited patiently, as the lady was reading.
“Any questions, ma'am?” - he inquired, once she laid the papers back.
“No. Everything is perfectly clear.” - replied Cadance, deep in thought. - “So, let me get this straight: you are legally allowed to inspect our school from inside, upside down?”
“I am legally obliged to do so.”
“And I should give my allowance?..”
“Well, ma'am...” - Moon leaned a bit forward, allowing the small smile creep onto his face. - “I ain't supposed to tell ye this at all; the textbook procedure says that you just read through the terms and verify that you've read and understood them. I, however, am not the bone-dry pain-in-the-bum kind of guy, so I asked for your permission and offered to discuss over the dubious points. I am not supposed to do so, but I think that system is way too... harsh on people.”
“I understand.” - Cadance finally flashed a sincere, relaxed smile. - “Thank you, sir, for such humane attitude. It is enough toil and trouble now, that Principle is on vacation, and here's the inspection... ohh, I am sorry for that rambling, mister Tide Wave, sir...”
“No need to be so formal, miss Cadance. Just call me Tide or Wave, whichever pleases you most.” - Moon smiled, pointing out the place. - “Please, sign here that you've read and understood the terms and allowances.”
“I did,” - nodded Cadance, putting her signature on. - “Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure. Now, if you don't mind – I shall start from right this here office.”
“Oh, sure – please, do your part! I'll be in my office should you need me.” - Cadance quickly gathered the papers she was working with and retreated.
“Alright. Here goes...” - Moon Shine quickly checked the surroundings for any sign of cameras; none present. Good.
Desk: humm, nothing interesting here – pens, notepads, different officeware... Huh... A day planner...
Scanning through the desktop day planner, Moon paid close attention to the dates marked '3A'; he wrote down the dates and the abbreviation for further research.
Looks like desktop holds nothing more of use; head for the drawers.
First: folders. The top one looks like a dossier of sort; the name on the cover read “Twilight Sparkle”. Moon scanned through the dossier, looked closely at the photo of a nerdy-looking girl with two stripes in her hair; hmmm, straight “A+”, sure is one brainiac... Application for individual research program... Delayed by principle. A note, reading “Her wits might do us good – it's all about the motivation! Find a way!”, signed – P.C. Alright, this might come in handy.
Overlooking his shoulder, Moon grinned at the sight of a copy machine in the corner. Jackpot.
Copying the whole dossier and a note never took much time, and he kept searching.
Second drawer: empty. Nothing at all – not even the trick bottom.
Third drawer: what is that?.. A flask? Undoing the lid, Moon sniffed the neck of the flask. Guh. What's that? Moonshine? And what's there?..
'3A'. 'Association of Alcoholics Anonymous'. Unknown, if Principle Cinche herself seeked council from the Association or not – unknown and irrelevant. Another jackpot.
“Alright, we might have an attempt to racket and/or bribe a student, using the individual research program as a lever... And an Association pamphlete, complete with a flask of moonshine, in Principle Cinche's office... Looks juicy already. How much more skeletons do you still have lingering in that cupboards of yours, Principle?..” - grinned Moon Shine, putting the copies of the dossier in his briefcase and taking a shot of both flask and a pamphlete.
And, alas, the lucky strike ended – he spent two hours searching every square inch of an office and found none.
By lunchtime he was done with the office and opted to resort to a more dubious, but more fruitious source of information: talk to employees.
By the end of the day, when students and staff were leaving, Moon Shine's head was just bursting with the plethora of all kinds of not-just-saucy and not-just-dumb facts about Cinche; of course, the absolute majority was a fake, a rumor mill product, but a grain of truth hid somewhere in there.
So, hauling a cab to go home, he took the pager and texted:
“Have two solid leads and a pile of dubious facts. All recorded, copied and filed. How to transmit?”.
The answer came quick, holding only one line.
The e-mail address.
“Your Excellence, I'm home.” - called out Moon Shine, closing the door behind him, putting down the briefcase, holding the piquant evidence. Silence was the answer, of course, and he proceeded with his 'back home' routines. Once all done – disguise cleansed away, stashed neatly in the secret compartment of the wardrobe, wires put together and footage downloaded into the laptop – the con artist allowed himself to stretch, exhaling the day; digital evidence was e-mailed away, physical evidence sat quietly in the briefcase, and he still had the lingering feeling of something missing.
“Care for a drink, your Excellence?” - he inquired curtly and waited a polite five seconds for answer. - “No? And I think I'll indulge.” - Pouring himself a generous helping of whiskey, Moon sliced some lemon and added ice to the glass, preparing to enjoy a nice quiet evening. He kicked the music in, turning the dial to almost inaudible volume, and lounged in an armchair, enjoying the drink.
Not for long, sadly – as the knock on the door broke the eerie quite rudely.
“Coming!” - sighed Moon Shine, half-expecting Rungo to come collect his toys. But once the door opened, he froze in his place, forgetting to put the glass away.
Cheerilee was standing at the threshold, with a small suitcase at her feet, looking downridden and disheveled. And she smelt of smoke.
“Cheerilee? What brings you here? And what's wrong?”
“I've left you a message at the voicemail. My house caught fire, so now I'll have to stick around somewhere... And, well, you were a pretty obvious variant...” - Cheerilee replied easily, making doe eyes at him. - “Can I come in?”
“Oh... that's unfortunate. I mean, sure, sure – come inside!” - Moon snapped out of his awestruck, grabbing her luggage. - “Mi casa es su casa, after all...”
“Thank you, I won't meddle around for long – couple of weeks, maybe, till the insurance company would sort this out.” - Cheerilee sat on the couch, sighing. - “Is that an Apple's Jack?”
“You sure have a keen nose for a teacher lady...” - smirked Moon Shine, putting the suitcase aside. - “Want some?”
“Yes, I do. And get me some ice with that, be a dear?” - smiled the schoolmarm. - “I really feel I could use a drink right about now.”
“Well, I used to be a teacher's pet all along in me younger days, so – whatever the ma'am says...” - replied the man, humoring the situation further, pouring some brown ember liquid into the glass. - “There you go.”
“Thanks... And that's... Wow. Is that a Mettley Crew? I haven't heard them in ages!”
“Meh, I know, imma sucker when it comes to music.” - Moon rolled his eyes, taking a sip. - “So, what's the deal with that fire?”
“I dunno. A short circuit, maybe. Most probably. Or it was just me, zoning out drunk in bed with a cigarette...” - shrugged Cheerilee casually, earning herself a googly eyes from Moon. - “What? I can do that! Especially when I am drunk.”
“Which is often?”
“Well, let's say, more rare than I'd have wanted sometimes...” - teased Cheerilee, taking a sip of her drink. - “Not really, honestly. And the last fire I've caused like that was when I was a sophomore in college.”
“You haven't got expelled for that?”
“Of course not! I was always the good girl. It was due to short circuit... The dorm was pretty old, so... well, accidents do happen...” - giggled the “good girl”, biting down on a slice of lemon.
“So much for the 'good girl' here, huh...” - nodded Moon with a smug grin.
“Well, a lady can afford being naughty when she feels like it...” - started Cheerilee, and suddenly recalled something. - “Which reminds me! Today Rainbow Dash and Rarity were looking for you. They said it was something important, and also Snowflake did...”
“Snowflake? The one that has muscles even in his spit?”
“Yes, that one guy.” - laughed the lady. - “Anyway, they all were looking for you. I told them you've had no classes today, and they've asked to notify you. And Vice Principle Luna was also looking for you. Said that was important.”
“Looks like I'm getting really popular. The experience I've never had. Well, better late then never, I guess.” - sighed Moon, Lies Machine running smoothly even now. - “Did she mention what the rush was about?”
“Something about some concert and conducting it, I guess... she was quite cryptic with her words, much like usual. Bottom line: tomorrow you're expected by four people.” - concluded Cheerilee, taking a drink.
“Okay...” - nodded Shine, feeling the pager buzz in his pocket. - “Excuse me for a minute. I'll be right back.”
“Sure.”
“Received the e-mail. For all that could not be sent, leave the package at...” - the address was attached, and Shine immedialtely ran a map application on his phone; it was a storage facility, with strongboxes for rent. - “...locker 1241. It is booked at your name, paid in advance. You'll have the key once you're there” - hiding the device, Shine nodded thoughtully and produced a cigarette; a quick smoke arranged the wreck of his thoughts, making out a clear scheme of actions.
Looks like storage was operational around the clock. Good. Then what was necessary to do is to get Cheerilee out of his hair as soon as possible.
Drink her to sleep? Nah. This looks just unfair, and, above all, dishonest: a guest in the house is to be treated nice.
Stick with some more half-truth of an urgent business? She'd like to walk me to the door, noticing the briefcase. And I certainly don't need questions, he mused quickly.
Exhaust her? A smug grin stretched on his face. Certainly. She had a long day, after all, and she's already tired. So, with some smart moves, I can gambit the situation to my favor.
Throwing out the butt, Moon Shine rubbed his hands together, preparing for some innuendo-fueled talk...
...”Hey, Cheerilee – you seem awfully worn out. Care for a massage?”
“You do massages?” - the lady creased a brow at Moon, surprised.
“I do a lot of things...” - he promisingly assured. - “So?”
“Well... Why not, as we're there...” - she bit her down lip – swollen from the kisses they've been sloppily exchanging for the last quarter of an hour, taking her T-shirt off and laying down on the couch, making herself comfortable. Moon darted for some massage oil – he had some in stock, aye...
...well, not that he was much of a playboy – it was just that the bruises fade way faster and less painful when massaged.
“Ready?..” - he offered smugly, rubbing his palms together fiercely to get them warm; Cheerilee smiled into the couch pillow, her eyes closed; Moon unclasped her bra and tugged at it, taking the whole piece off. - “Don't want it to get in the way of oil, you know...”
A generous helping of scented substance poured into his cupped palm, just to be dispensed in two thin leaks all across her back; the lady shuddered at the sensation.
“And we're getting started...” - both palms laid onto the tender skin, stroking gingerly, developing the shiny oil glaze all over, before getting to business directly – rolling, kneading slightly, pinching and grasping, working out all the knots there were, eliciting some blissful moans from Cheerilee.
“Wow... Moon... your hands are magical...” - she breathed out.
“I've did the assigned reading, ma'am; I'm a diligent student...” - he smiled, gently massaging her shoulders.
“Aahhh... I see... Well, you get a straigh “A” for this – and I expect you for some extra-curriculum activity...” - Cheerilee purred, melting in the sensations.
“Good. She's relaxing.” - remarked the Shine's in-head voice. - “Now, don't mess up, teacher's pet – and get it done so that she'll be out for good.”
Cheerilee, however, took the advantage of a slight pause in the treatment given, reaching her hand, grabbing Shine's palm; holding it steady, she, grinning deviously, commanded him to close eyes, to which he obeyed; she turned onto her back, lifting onto an elbow, and cupped her breast with his palm; Moon Shine grinned insidiously, feeling the warm flesh in his hand with something hard poking at its center:
“I see someone's done the introductory project for an extra-curriculum?..” - he teased, brushing his fingertips across the mound.
“That makes both of us.” - winked Cheerilee.
Losing no time, he scooped her up in his arms, rewarded with a shocked “Whooaf!”, and dashed into the bedroom; tossing the lady onto the bed, he successfully mimicked the lust-crazed attitude, ripping the clothes away from both, meticulously mentally noting the effects on his mate: she seemed to like it. Really like it...
...once the Cheerilee was sound asleep, Moon shook off the well-earned drowsiness, slid out of bed and dressed himself quickly; putting the his old camo uniform into the secret compartment, he picked the briefcase, checked the lid so that it won't open accidentally and left quietly, closing the door.
Riding in a bus, he texted Rungo the address of his destination and added, that he is expected to be there ten minutes ago. No response came, and none was needed: Moon put the phone into the pocket and leaned back, smiling.
His friend indeed stood there, scratching the back of his billiard-ball shaved head; noticing the footsteps behind him, he turned around and stood at attention automatically, his hand bolting upwards to salute – but Moon waved off:
“As you were, as you were, mate. Geez, when would you learn?”
“You know, an ol' mutt won't learn new tricks.” - grinned the bald man.
“So, break the template. Here. Thank you, mate. I'll keep the ID for a while.”
“Alright. Just make sure it's destroyed when you're done. It's major offence, a lifetime behind the bars worth.” - warned Rungo, hiding the box of hardware into his bag.
“Don't sweat it, mate – I wasn't born yesterday.” - nodded Moon, lighting a cigarette. - “Want some?”
“Nuh, I gave up a while ago.” - the bald guy shook his head. - “So, job's done?”
“Keep your curious nose away from me turf, matey...” - blowing the ring of smoke, smirked Moon Shine. - “But yes, it is.”
“Okay then, in case you'll need backup – or just someone to drag your ass out of fire...”
“You'll always remember me of that day?..” - Moon frowned.
“Well, since we're retired already...” - grinned Rungo. - “I can fear not the rage of Overseers.”
“You lucky basturd. Know that?”
“Aye, I was born with a clover in hand.”
“A trifolium one then.” - Moon stomped on the butt. - “Anyway, thanks, mate. If there's the occasion – I'll beep you.”
“Beer's on you. Well, two beers.”
“Don't you stretch the limits.”
“Cya, captain.”
“Till later, sarge.” - men shook each other's hands quickly and parted ways: Moon proceeded to the storage facility, and Rungo just dissipated into the early night.
Inside the storage, at the reception desk, a lanky young man, face spotted with acne scars, was dully texting his boredom away, jumping startled as Moon Shine slammed the briefcase on the table a little too loud – out of all the good intentions, of course:
“I am Moon Shine, and I have a locker booked.”
“Aye, aye, sir... Which one?” - shuffled the clerk, desperately rummaging through the weighty grossbuch in front of him.
“I believe, the number is 1241.” - grinned Moon. - “And I believe, I spy a key with the relevant tag – right behind your right shoulder, fine sir.”
“Uh, just a second, uh... I have to check your booking and I require your signature under it...” - the clerk attempted to incline, but Moon leaned closer, staring the boy square in the eye, and whispered in a low voice:
“I'm in a bit of hurry, and I have top notch sensitive documents here. Let's just do it less pressing for both of us – say, I take the key and do my part with the payload, and you take your time to find my booking, right? By the way, it's supposed to be at the 'M' section.”
Mesmerized with the assertive onslaught, the clerk boy nodded slowly, reaching for a key and offering it to Moon, motions slow, as if hypnotized; the man grabbed the key:
“Thank you, my good man. Now, please, proceed – I shall not delay you any further.” - grinning deviously, Moon Shine took off to his destination, leaving the dumbfounded boy to his labor.
Every aisle of lockers held a sign with numbers, ranging hence to the numbers of the respective lockers situated in a current aisle; Moon strode easily down the hallway, glancing to and fro until he found his goal: the plate read '1200 – 1350', so, without further hesitation, he took the turn and quickly found his primary destination.
The key slid into the well-oiled lock, revealing the insides of the locker: it wasn't empty, despite Moon's expectations. On the bottom of the strongbox lied a neatly folded sheet of paper, which he reluctantly picked up, putting the folder of copied documents inside; he flicked on a switch of a small flashlight and inspected the insides of a container thoroughly, cringing at the thought that he might have missed something in the plain sight; nothing, except the folder he put. Good. He despised doing the work halfheartedly and slacking.
“I got this!” - twanged the clerk cheerfully, holding up a pen like a banner. - “Here, mister!”
“Great job, fine sir! They shall give you a promotion this instant!” - sneered Moon, putting his signature in the tick-marked blank. - “Thank you. I'll keep the keys.”
“But...” - the clerk blinked, trying to pipe in – and the door closed shut behind the man's back.
Strolling back to the house he occupied – and where was Cheerilee, snided a voice in his head – Moon Shine took the time to stand under a street lamp and read properly through whatever instructions he had received.
Plain paper, text printed out on a laser printer; perfectly bland. No distinctive features – Moon even sniffed across the sheet, previously darting a glance around – the alley was perfectly empty, devoid of any organic lifeforms but him; not even the alleycats were present.
Looking through the sheet at the lamp never made out anything either: no watermarks, of course.
Snapping out of his little paranoid fit, Moon Shine lit a cigarette and began reading:
“You've done good so far, since you're reading this. Now, your next assignment will require a formal attire, as you're invited to the Annual Canterlot Gala under the name of Mist Veil. For your legend, see below and do it later.
Bottom line, I need you to create a diversion and sneak up at the Mayor's office; you'll find a green folder with a blank tag on it; I need that folder.
Feel free to read whatever you will find there. Or don't if you prize your dignity. Plus, I'd pay you extra for a virgin and untouched contents.
Beep me when you've entered.
A.B.”
Below, as specified, followed a small legend of Mist Veil; wow, he's a hotshot, smirked Moon, knocking the ashes of his cigarette off – big deal, high in the corporate ranks, philantrope, art critic... Cool. But did he ever existed in the first place? Or was he just another fruit of the Lies Machine, even more intricate than the one running in his head, Moon Shine wondered idly. Creating a whole faux identity like that required not just a good imagination – it also had to backed up with something... substantial. Facts, proving that the the person in question existed and actually worked. Of course, forged IDs and some hands shook the right way might have solved a problem... but to do that, one should've at first get to the right hands and offer them something worth shaking.
Musing like that idly, Moon Shine stomped the cigarette butt, making his way further, and he was already at a threshold of his household when another idea struck him.
“Hello, class!” - Moon waved at his students cheerfully, entering the study. - “How're you guys doing today?”
The class buzzed, proving that they were doing good, and, ever since Moon took his favourite spot, sitting on the edge of his desk in front of the class, a number of hands dashed upwards.
“I believe some of you have questions?” - Moon creased a brow. - “Ladies first, I presume – Rainbow?”
“Mister Moon, sir!” - the tomboyish athlete stood up with her hands to her waist. - “There was an announcement from Vice Principle Luna that there's going to be a big gig; something about, I dunno, concerts and stuff. So, as you're our Music teacher, you were supposed to tell us about that, huh?” - she glared at the man, sticking her chin forwards stubbornly; he, in turn, raised both hands in a dismissive gesture:
“Point taken, Dash; I apologize for slacking. I just hadn't been here yesterday to make heads or tails of that announcement you're talking about. Anyhow, I presume, you're about to apply for a participating?”
“YEAH!!” - roared Snowflake, flaring his nostrils, the T-shirt almost ripping to shreds on the overpumped pecs of the guy:
“SO?! YOU'RE GOING TO HELP US OR WHAT?!”
“I just happen to have an idea here...” - squinted Moon Shine, smiling coyly, running through his notes on the class. - “Say, people – would you work together for something big?”
“Like what?” - Flash Senry craned his neck.
“Like a grand orchestral show stopper.” - Moon grinned deviously. - “We'll do a bit of classical stuff, for starters...”
“Pffft, classics... I expected something cooler. Like, maybe, twenty percent cooler. Give or take.” - blurted Rainbow Dash.
“Just wait till I get to the best part...” - Moon's train of thought was rushing full throttle. - “Say, we take some classics and add a little bit of nice modern touch to it. Like, say, Danse Macabre rearranged for guitars, violin and synthesizer?..” - grinning victoriously, the man thrown one leg over another. - “And then, say, Swan Pond for flute, vocals and drums? Everyone of you would have a chance to shine. And for the big finish, I suppose to have the Morbid Tango, arranged for the orchestra of you. You, guys, are going to freaking bust the place, rocking the audience straight out of their socks!”
The agitation was obvious: students were discussing stuff with each other, the most audible voice was, of course, Pinkie's – and Rarity was desperately trying to reason her; and, out of the blue, Fluttershy's slender hand rose to the ceiling:
“Uhm, mister Moon, sir?”
“Yes, Fluttershy?”
“Um... you were saying... an orchestra... but... what about the individual bands? I mean, Flash Sentry has his own band, and Trixie does, and Rainbow's in charge of the Rainbooms... Is it okay to blend it all together in a single piece?..” - obviously startled with her own boldness, Fluttershy squealed and retreated behind her curtain-like hair.
“You have a point there, Fluttershy...” - nodded the man, immersed in thoughts; however, as soon as an idea struck him, he snapped his fingers:
“Class, listen up. I am aware that the concert is due in four weeks, so we don't have much time, but – first of: Fluttershy's right. Every single one of you, who wishes to participate, should prepare his own unique performance – just use whatever in your repertoire you feel like doing, but I really expect you to participate in whatever crazy endeavor I've planned. I still believe an orchestra would do just damn great. I'll take care of the notes for every one of you who'd volunteer, and arrange the rehearsals. And for those, who's still weighing things, I'd say that it's not just a good fun, but it's also worth an extra credit and an automatic “A-plus” at a year. You have my word. Now...” - Moon checked his wristwatch. - “We still have five minutes till the end of the lesson, so, should anyone wish to apply for an orchestra – be my guests...” - as soon as he sat at the desk, flipping the notebook open, a fuzzy pink mass was already bouncing in front of him, overjoyed:
“Rainbooms, all of them! Sunset Shimmer included!” - squealed Pinkie.
“Now, Pinkie, dear, I don't know if Sunset would consent to this...” - Rarity wondered, signing herself in as well under the bubbly Pinkie's handwriting.
“Shucks, Rarity – 'course she would! If Ah know anything of this there gurl, she'd never miss out on a friend, sugercube; just tell her that, I say!” - setting her Stetson to the side in a bold manner, Applejack put herself on the list.
“Uhm...” - Fluttershy scanned the table for a pen, finding none: Moon reached out and curtly offered the timid girl his own; she accepted it and put her name on the list as well.
“We're gonna make it awesome.” - grinned Rainbow Dash, nodding as she drew a small cloud with a three-striped lighting bolt next to her name. - “We're gonna rock some socks, I'm telling you.”
“Do me proud, girls.” - smirked Moon Shine.
“Hey, by the time we're done there – there won't be room for more!”
“Do it, then! Next, please!”...
“knock-knock-knock” - “Come in!” - Moon opened the door and entered the dimmed office of Vice Principal Luna: in contrast to Principle Celestia's, the blinds on the windows were lowered as much as to offer a little sunlight filter inside and dissipate in the dark blue painted interior; the whole thing made Moon recall the old and worn noir movies thing, and he chuckled to himself:
“Wow, ma'am – your office sure is a sight for sore eyes. - catching Luna's amazed gaze, he explained himself: “I mean, it's so dim, so quiet... Really brings eyes to rest.”
“Why yes, I prefer it that way; I can concentrate better in the peace and quiet.” - smiled the lady, straightening out her crescent moon cameo. - “Please, take a seat, mister Moon. We have something to discuss...”
“With all due respect, ma'am, I'm already fully aware of the incoming concert...” - Moon retorted. - “...and I've already assigned the student volunteers their respective parts.”
“Volunteers, you say?” - smiled Luna. - “And exactly how many of them there is?..”
“A lot.” - grinned the man, producing a list of volunteers. - “Here you may see it.”
“A whole class?” - Vice Principle opened her mouth. - “Wow. And what exactly do you have in mind for them?..”
“Well, I'd hate to be a spoilsport for you, ma'am, but... The respective bands and individual performers would first perform their unique parts, and then I'm thinking of building up a compound orchestra.”
“That's ambitious. Should we run a casting?”
“I don't see the necessity in that, ma'am; the students are quite eager to participate, and the first rehearsal is already tomorrow after hours. Would you like to see it?”
“Why, I...” - somehow vice principle lady blushed slightly, but quickly regained the facade. - “I'd absolutely love it, but, I fear, I have other business to attend to. Instead, I would ask you to inform me of all your needs immediately, should those appear.”
“Well, thank you much, ma'am; for the time being, the only thing we appear to need is a place to rehearse...”
“Just ask the Rainbooms – they'll inform you with the place. Or you can take gym after hours.”
“Most wondrous. Now, another thing is... Well, ma'am – we kind of need a cellist. No one does play cello in class – none that I know of, and we pretty much need the cello to be there. It'll strengthen the backbone of the whole melody.”
“Well... We might have one lady here...” - Luna grinned deviously. - “The name Octavia Philharmonica – rings a bell?”
“Octavia is a student of CHS?!” - Moon's jaw submitted to gravity, rushing towards the floor. - “I mean, really?”
“Yes, she is; she's on the individual research program, prepairing for her casting for the Canterlot State Orchestra. She's... a bit snobby, but good at heart and, if you can motivate yourself to her, very cooperative. And yes, I believe you need a sound engineer and a DJ? Vinyl Scratch can provide the best experience, and she comes together with Octavia, so, here's a piece of advice: get to Vinyl Scratch and get her for your project – and you get Octavia... free of charge.” - Luna's vague, all-knowing grin grew wilder, as she winked at Moon.
He sit there for a split second, digesting the information.
“Why, that's a huge headstart, ma'am. Thank you, thank you so much...” - he muttered, beaming Luna his most sincere smile. - “May I say I expect both of you ladies on some of our rehearsal someday?”
“I'll inform my sister of your invitation, mister Shine.” - vice principle curtly nodded. - “And we'll see if we can afford the attendance. I'm sure it would be a lovely experience.”
“Thank you again, ma'am...” - Moon rised from the chair, giving Luna a small salute. - “I should get going, I believe. We won't let you down.”
“I believe so.” - the blue haired lady replied calmly, as the door closed and she went back to her business; at this particular time, she was calling the Crystal Prep Academy, trying to get Dean Cadence to their side.
Already late in the evening Moon Shine finally stood up from his laptop, a small printer spitting out hot sheets of paper, filled with notes and tabs; he looked them through, arranged each musical score respectively for the instrument it was meant to be played, and filed every other stack separately, putting down the name of the student and an instrument; the solo parties were clipped together separately. All in all, it was a big work well done, and Moon thought it good to reward himself with a cup of nice hot coffee.
Putting a coffee pot on the stove, he lingered for a moment at the enveloping sense of job well done: the scores are to be dispensed tomorrow, support achieved from the authorities, instruments checked and ready to rock...
And still, one buzzing, nagging thought kept stirring in the backyard of the mind: what in the actual heck was the A.B. initials for.
“Meh, to hell with that...” - muttered Shine, adding some spices to his coffee; the brew bubbled, prepairing to boil, and he removed it from fire, patting the bottom of a pot rhythmically; after a few seconds, he put the pot back on fire and waited for coffee to boil.
The doorbell rang out, right in the middle of outrageously slow and ginger pouring the brew through the sieve.
“Stupid lousy nogood...” - swore the man, spilling a bit of his precious brew. - “Coming!”
Cheerilee was at the threshold, looking obviously disgruntled:
“Hey you!” - Moon had to spring on his most sincerely-happy smile, giving the lady a peck on the cheek. - “What's rollin'?”
“Don't ask.” - she blurted, kicking off her shoes. - “Is that coffee I smell?”
“Yup, coffee a la chef. And I bet bottom bit you're hungry.”
“Like a hunter...” - grunted Cheerilee, struggling her way from the jacket; the bag strap got caught in the sleeve, blocking any efforts to break free. - “fuq...”
“Hey. Calm down. Lemme help ye with that...” - gingerly setting Cheerilee's arm free, Moon crouched near the disgruntled lady and looked her in the eyes. - “What's wrong, Cheers?”
“My name's Cheerilee! Is that so hard to remember?!” - she growled out, eyes welling with angry tears. - “What're you looking at?! Or you think that if I'm here, cause my frikkin' house is scorch-cooked from the inside, you can call me names and do whatever you please?! Big fuqing mistake, mister!!”
Moon was slightly abashed with the demeanor of usually amicable lady; however, some indirect hints allowed him to deduce the root of all evils quickly.
“Insurance's bitching?” - he inquired quietly, reaching for Cheerilee's hand; she nodded angrily, swallowing her silent tears; she shuddered at the touch, but did not retract the hand.
“And a hard day at work, right?..” - another nod.
“And to top all that – it's a period. Right?”
“Are you what, a freaking spy or something?..” - she gnarled, halfheartedly, though, as the amazement took the best of her. - “How?..”
Moon pointed at her bag, that she had angrily tossed aside: it flew open, revealing a formal-looking paper with a stamp 'DECLINED' across it, a pack of hygienic packets and a whole flurry of notebooks. - “It ain't rocket science, ma'am. And I'm just a perceptive type. This happens.”
She nodded silently, seemingly seething with anger; however, in a matter of seconds, her both hands now being caressed gingerly with Moon's thumbs, the angry grimace broke, flowing into a scowl, and the lady burst into tears, digging her face deep into the man's shoulder.
“Smooth moves, Sherlock; now she'll shy away from ya, thinking that you'll consider her a hysterical bitch...” - snided voice in Moon's head, that he pretty much snidingly dubbed as 'me conscience”. The situation was not awkward, at least, nothing he hadn't faced before; a lady, crying her eyes out on his shoulder.
“There, there, Cheerilee...” - he patted her back ever so slightly, 'consciousness' gnawing at him again for picking that awkward male gesture, that could express whatever – from concern to encouragement. - “It's okay. You've been through a ton of crap today...”
“Now you see why I'm still living all alone, drinking myself to sleep once every month?..” - she bolted upward, the angry grimace present again on her tear-stroken face. - “You see?! No man wishes to share his time with a hysterical bitch like... like... like this. It's just there, and I can't seem to fight it! I've tried, I did – therapists, ladies' doctors, took a shit ton of drugs – and it's still there! So, face it – I'm a mentally unstable, retarded, estrogen-crazy bitch! So, like what you see?!” - she almost clawed into the man's shoulders, pulling him closer until their faces almost met. - “Like it?!”
“Yes, I do.” - deadpanned Moon Shine, regaining control over the situation, as he gently put his hands around Cheerilee's waist. - “Yes, I do like what I see. And whatever you're saying, I am not to consider of you any less than I do now. And what I see is a lady of beauty and smarts, so suck it up.” - he allowed himself to grin smugly, and that grin seemed to be the last straw; Cheerilee sat awestruck, her eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging half-open.
When she finally mustered enough in herself to speak, she just shook her head and whispered: “You're fuqin' sick...”
“That I've heard.” - grinned Moon, standing up and helping the lady up. - “Okay, now, I guess you'd want to change; since you're at that, I'll whip up something for you to eat and make you a nice hot bath; after it, you're getting some herbal tea and a foot massage. And then – off to sleep. Sounds good?”
“You're a fuqing sick bastard...” - she replied, shaking her head reluctantly. - “What have I ever done to meet you, huh?..”
“Guess you were born in the first place.” - Moon grinned and booped Cheerilee's nose slightly. - “Now, go. It feels awkward to linger in the hall when the whole apartment is at our service.”
“I frikkin' hate you, Moon...” - huffed Cheerilee, spanking him weighty on the butt as she walked past.
“Love you too, Cheerilee!” - he laughed back.
“Buzz off...” - the voice came from the bedroom. - “And if I'll catch you sneaking a peek, I'll bring up the paddle just for you!”
Moon just retreated quickly deeper into the kitchen section, abandoning a perfect vantage point. The threat sounded substantial enough.
“Oof... that's a fill...” - Cheerilee breathed out gratefully, picking her plate up; Moon, however, interfered, taking the utensils to the dishwasher and putting a cup of fresh coffee in front of the lady.
“Milk, or, maybe, cream?..”
“Milk. A bit, just a taint...” - she replied, looking away; a deep blush spread across her.
“Moon?”
“Huh?” - he turned away from the cupboard, rearranging the cups. - “What's that?”
“Gimme a cigarette, please...” - she silently inquired, still looking away.
“Sure...” - the cigarette and a lighter appeared in a man's hand. - “In fact, I'd smoke as well. Shall we?..”
“Let's go already...” - still avoiding his gaze, Cheerilee brisquely escaped the room and headed for the patio; Moon followed her right after.
“The evenings are still cold, and you've got nothing to cover but t-shirt... Here.” - the man wrapped a jacket around Cheerilee's shoulders, lighting a cigarette and handing it to her.
She accepted it absently, taking a deep pull; he followed suit.
Constellations blinked above, weaving a complex ornament on the blue-black canvas of a late evening sky.
“What're you getting at, Moon?” - the lady asked quietly, pulling the flaps of jacket closer together on her chest. - “What's the master plan? To have some fun, is all?”
“What makes you think that?” - creasing a scarred brow, the man inquired, blowing a stream of smoke down his torso. - “Wait, I see the problem.”
A nod was his reward; with a sigh, he turned to face her, asking bluntly:
“Cheerilee, how old are you?”
“Does it even matter?” - she snarled, dragging deep; releasing a cloud of smoke, she, however, sighed and replied: “I'm twenty-eight.”
“And I'm thirty-six. Can you tell?” - by the Cheerilee's amazed look, she couldn't tell. - “See, I've had a lot of... fun...” - Moon made air quotation signs. - “...in me life. So the master plan, as you put it, is to, well... get stable for once. Stop rocking sideways, gain some centerpoint. And maybe – just maybe, if I was born under the lucky star – have a lady to love and cherish and to share the good and the bad with. Is that devious enough?” - Moon's shoulders sank a bit, and he didn't even felt a single cog twitch in the Lies Machine.
“Wow, huge progress, man – telling the truth for once, eh? Now see if she would buy it...” - snided the 'conscience'.
Cheerilee just stood there, oblivious to the cigarette slowly simmering down to the filter; a fragile stock of ashes balanced a risky attempt on the tip of its glowing embers; Moon also stood stock still, gazing square at the lady.
The silence lingered for a good minute, until Cheerilee sobbed quietly, her shoulders heaving, and embraced the man tightly.
“We'll get over it. Eventually...” - stroking the lady's silky hair, Moon whispered into her ear, oblivious to the insidious whisper of the 'conscience'.
“You better not give the promises you ain't planning on keeping, boy...”
Later, when Cheerilee got out of bath and reclined the offer of a massage, was already snuggly laying under the warm blanket with a warmer on her stomach, Moon fiddled with the wall lights, turning them sideways to prevent the light hitting the eyes of the laying lady.
“Here...” - he smiled, reaching for the Grey Cardinal. - “That's one little thing I prize quite much. Your Excellence, this is Lady Cheerilee. Lady Cheerilee, His Excellence, the Grey Cardinal.”
“That's just sweet...” - Cheerilee struggled to suppress a smile – and failed miserably, accepting the tiny – palm-high in size – plushie fowl. - “He looks worn and torn, but it just adds to the charm.”
“Yes, we've gotten through a lot together...” - shrugged the man, grinning sheepishly. - “I guess, he's kind of a talisman of sorts. But one thing I can tell for sure – His Excellence is a great listener. Always keeps a secret. Always.”
“I can tell...” - smiled the teacher lady, hugging the owl close to her. - “Thank you, Moon. For everything. And...” - she sighed, tears welling up in her eyes again. - “... I apologize for my preposterous attitude towards you. I got a little carried away...”
“Don't mind it.” - taking a seat on the bed, Moon smiled, caressing Cheerilee's cheek, basking in the glow of her magnificent eyes. - “Just rest. The day was long and taxing, and the day tomorrow would be better. You'll see.”
“Thank you.” - she sobbed quietly, smiling like there was no tomorrow.
“G'night. I'll be in the living room, on the couch.” - Moon winked at the lady, flicking the light off and closing the door to allow some privacy.
“Moon?..” - the man poked his head back into the room. - “Don't... well, don't leave me alone. Please.”
“Alright, class – everyone's got their scores, I believe?” - Moon Shine put his hands into his jeans' pockets, as the class murmured acknowledgingly. - “Good. Now, I want everyone of you to spend the rest of the day studying it and practicing it at home. As for now, I dismiss the class for individual rehearsals. I'll see you again tomorrow, after hours in the gym. We'll try the dry run first – see how you're working together. 'kay?”
“Mister Moon, sir – I can't quite understand...” - piped up Pinkie, quizzically observing her scores. - “I see different scores for me?”
“Yes, Pinkie; I've taken the liberty to make it different: one is for tube, one – for theremin and one is for the drums.” - replied Moon Shine. - “Each different melody the orchestra will conduct will require another instrument of you to handle. Think you can do that?”
“Sure as sugar, mister Moon, sir! I'm completely okie-dokie-lokie with that! I ain't failing you!” - the pink-haired girl bubbled, mocking a salute.
“Aight, now, if no questions left – feel free to be dismissed to rehearse. I'll be strolling around and peek occasionally at your rehearsals – of each participant, mind that – so don't be startled and don't mind me, just keep playing. Class, dismissed!” - as the crowd dissipated into the corridor, Moon checked his wristwatch; he had thirty more minutes to go before the recess, so he locked up the study and went for the teachers' lounge to check the curriculum.
“Uh-huh, Social Studies, ground floor, study 1201...” - he muttered to himself, nodding his greeting to the Physics teacher coming by. - “Aight.”
Study 1201 was easy to find – just take to the left, facing the main entrance, and there it was, tucked neatly in the corner of building; he knocked gently, poking his head inside:
“Good day, class. Good day, miss Cheerilee.” - he greeted politely.
“Greetings, mister Moon!” - the chorus of voices droned, and the Cheerilee rewarded him with a slight soft smile.
“Miss Cheerilee, can I have you for a minute? Class, do you mind if I'll steal Miss Cheerilee from you for a moment?” - Moon winked at the students, making them giggle and shake their heads, indicating they didn't mind in the slightest and eliciting a blush on Cheerilee's face; she left the classroom, assigning the students some reading to be done while she's gone, and, darting a glance around, pulled Moon aside, to the darker corner:
“What's gotten into you?!”
“I've dismissed my class for rehearsals and came here to check you out.” - he creased an eyebrow. - “Just checking if you're good.”
“Yeah, I'm fine. I got my pills, so for the rest of the day no more hysterics... At least, until the medicine wears out...” - shrugged Cheerilee. - “So, you good?”
“Just dandy.”
“Good to hear; well, I'd better go. They're about to have a test, and I'd better get them ready.”
“Oh, a test. Got that, ma'am. No more meddling!” - Moon raised his hands submissively, earning a beaming smile from the lady and a peck on the cheek. - “Cya.”
“Sure. Take care!”
“Aye.” - Moon's eyes crawled all across the lady's silhouette, lingering a bit on the waist and below-the-waist area. He tisked at himself and picked up the pace, recalling one more thing needed done.
Vinyl Scratch was found at the library, never parting with her headphones; she was browsing the internet, taking notes for her Biology classes; Moon pondered for a second how could she make heads or tails of what others tried to tell her and if she heard anything at all behind all that around-the-clock booming musical blockade; toying with the thought for a second, he approached the girl, patting her shoulder slightly to achieve her attention: he succeeded, the purple shades turned to him, scanning him head to toes, and, finally, identifying his personality, the next phase of the programm kicked in: he was rewarded with a wave of a hand.
“Vinyl... Vinyl!” - he was articulating every sound very clearly. - “I need you to...” - he was stopped short as Vinyl scribbled something on the scrap of paper with her angular handwriting and presented to him:
“Don't sweat it, Mister Moon – I can read lips fluently. And, as much fun as it is to see, just talk. I'll understand.”
“Nice.” - he remarked, earning a shrug from Vinyl. Wasting no time further, he quickly debriefed her on the situation with the concert and Octavia. Vinyl listened? looked? read? Closely, giving Moon a reassuring nod and a thumbs up once he was done speaking, scribbling something with her left hand:
“I got it, mister; Tavi'll come to your gig tomorrow for rehearsals, and you have yourself a sound engineer. This is gonna rock so hard.” - Noticing the amused gaze of Moon, she smirked and written some more: “P.S. And yes, I am ambidexterous.”
“Alright then. Thank you, Vinyl.” - flashing the DJ a thumbs up, Moon retreated from the library, leaving Vinyl to her business.
Strolling down the hall, he stole a glance at his wristwatch – and that spare second was enough so that his quick gait almost sent im crushing into Principle Celestia.
“Whoa!” - she exclaimed, narrowly escaping the collision, as Moon drifted sidewards, slipping on the polished tiles of the floor:
“Excuse me, ma'am! I didn't see you there...” - he apologized sincerely, picking up a couple of papers that slipped away from the folder Celestia was holding.
“No harm done, Moon Shine, don't worry. I just have to be more careful...” - smiled the lady, her sun-shaped brooch catching a ray of light and bursting into sparkles. - “How're the concert preparations going?”
“Going well, ma'am!” - reported Moon, automatically standing at attention. - “Students are rehearsing their personal performances as of right now, and tomorrow, when the place is set, we will begin rehearsals on the orchestral part, ma'am!”
“At ease, Moon Shine...” - Celestia laughed softly, waving a strand of her nebulous hair away from her eyes. - “No need to be so... disciplined. Have you been in military?..” - Moon could've sworn she gave him a half-lidded look, as if they were sharing a particularly piquant secret.
“No, ma'am. Just a good nurture, I guess.” - shrugged the man. - “I trust that Vice Principle Luna provided you with a copy of a plan I've got her?”
“None that I know of. I'll see to it. So, I won't hold you any further, mister Shine. You may go now.” - Celestia nodded gracefully, accepting the papers. Moon nodded curtly, and took off already, when Celestia called at him:
“Moon Shine! Per chance, have you thought of any name for your orchestral project?”
“As in a band name?” - specified the man. - “No, I didn't.”
“Maybe you'd like to call your orchestra 'Aurora Borealis'? It just came to me. Since it unites all kinds of talents, that contribute each to the whole picture – just like the colors in that magnificent celestial event, they mingle, diffuse and create something... breathtaking.” - Celestia winked at the man, obviusly providing some ever-so-slight hint. - “So, see you around! Ta-ta~!” - leaving Moon dumbfounded, she graciously continued her way down the corridor.
“Aurora Borealis... Hmmm...” - hummed Moon, feeling some double bottom about the thing – but he just couldn't wrap his mind around it. Just as of yet.
Once he got home, a bag of groceries in tow, he was met by Cheerilee, clad in bathrobe; she seemed to just have a shower, emanating the scents of shampoo and shower gel.
“Hello!” - Moon chimed from the door, putting the bag on the floor and dragging the boots off. - “Shower, eh?”.
“Yes, I got here merely half an hour ago,” - replied the schoolmarm, coming closer and hugging the man lovingly. - “Hey, Moon... I was thinking, and... of what happened. Yesterday evening...”
“Now, Cheerilee, don't start that on me.” - Moon Shine gave the lady a stern look. - “What was yesterday remained yesterday. It's water under the bridge – primo, and secundo – such is your nature, and Mother Nature knows best, so one'd better not fook with it if he knows the best for him. Bottom line, stop bitching at yourself about it and just enjoy the evening.” - he exhaled, adding sheepishly. - “Pardon my French.”
“Normally I'd reprimand the language...” - giggled the lady, promptly drying her hair with the towel. - “But this seems legit and justified, so I'll let that slide.”
“That's generous of you...” - however, the buzz of the pager stopped the man short; he cursed, made an excuse and stumbled outside, reading the tiny text on the microscopic screen.
“Fook u. Just fook u...” - he mumbled, spitting into the flower bed with irritation; this truly was unnerving.
He reached for the cellphone and called Rungo, quickly debriefing him on what he was about to do.
Looked like the Annual Canterlot Gala was being transmitted for today's evening. Hence, he had to dispatch Cheerilee somehow – and apply his disguise and muster some efficient diversion, ohmai... Well, for the latter an improvisation could go nice, but the disguise and the dress code... It was downright vexing.
Slithering inside the apartment, Moon started a mundane small talk to Cheerilee, who was changing in the bedroom; he used the opportunity to open the secret compartment and hastily drop whatever supplies he needed for disguising into the briefcase, dumping the contains onto the floor of the compartment haphazardously beforehand; luckily for him, the sound of hair fan muffled all other rattling and churning his actions produced, so he was considered even stealthy; grabbing a suit and packing it up as well was a matter of mere seconds – but he managed to stash the supplies and the suit in the hall wardrobe and close his vault a mere second before Cheerilee left the bedroom, narrowly escaping the magnificent cover blowing.
“Er – Cheerilee, I'll have to leave you for the evening...” - he mumbled, fiddling with his jacket's flaps. - “An emergency appeared, due to the concert Principle Celestia's brewing... Being in charge of this stuff, you know... So I have to hightail there and, well, sort things out... Yeah...”
The lady scanned Moon head to toes, squinting suspiciously; he did his best to retain a poker face, even though he was sweating bullets (“why?!”, the 'conscience' shrieked out, “why are you sweating like a frikkin' freshman in front of the prom queen?! She's what, your momma? Your wife?! You ain't explaining shit! Don't make it worse, mate!!”) like crazy, a chill stream running down his spine. However, after a few torturous moments, Cheerilee smiled softly, nuzzled the man affectionately and replied:
“Alright then, Godspeed; and please, take care.”
“Aye, aye, ma'am...” - standing at attention, Moon saluted his... what was she? A girlfriend? A tenant? A colleague? Romantic interest? - anyway, Moon Shine gave her a salute and kissed her hand in a gentlemanly fashion:
“I'll be back as soon as possible. His Excellence would keep you company, and – well, mi casa...”
“I know: es sui casa.” - replied Cheerilee with a giggle, giving Moon's rear a slight slap. - “Go on ahead already; I'm a big girl. I'll manage.”
“Aight then. Cya.” - stealing one last gaze at the lady that lived in his place, the man strolled out of his house, stealthily grabbing his supplies.
“Aight, sarge – you know the drill...” - mumbled Moon, applying the last touches of the disguise – he looked pretty much the same as he was the Tide Wave, except that he opted for more aquiline profile than just ominously hunch-nosed one and the wig was not black, but noble silver and the contacts were light green; he fiddled with the plastic extenders behind his cheeks, altering them slightly to make the 'cheekbones' less prominent, and, as a final touch, slapped on some sideburns, matching hair in color. - “How do I look?”
“Awful, as usual.” - droned Rungo, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. - “I still don't really get it, cap – what in the heck's name are you doing? What have you gotten yourself into this time?”
“Don't sweat it much, solid mate – or your pretty bald skull will heat like a frying pan, and I'll fry you some bacon-and-eggs.” - recommended Moon Shine – now disguised as Mist Veil, philantrope hotshot. - “The days of our glory are gone, my friend; back then, we were the heroes. Now we're either zeroes, either heroes – but the other way around.” - he produced a tiny flask of cologne, spraying some to his neck. - “And it's your choice – to get tossed overboard or to move all the way across. I chose the latter. And I'm content for now”.
Rungo sighed heavily:
“You know, cap'n – back then, we were the honest ones at least. And now?”
“Look at the pros and cons. I mean, pros at cons. Is it that bad to be one?”
“You make it sound legit, even... justified?..”
“There ain't such thing as justice, mate. By now you shoould've known better.” - Moon took a pair of small tweezers and carefully placed something tiny inside his ear, grimacing as the contraption slid all the way down to the middle ear membrane. - “So, back to business. You stay put ; things go hairy, I give the signal. Keep your ears peeled; if I fail to create a sufficient distraction, you kick in. Copy?”
“Copy.”
“Aight then, wish me luck?”
“Go there and break a leg.”
“U'r a bloody charmer, mate...” - Mist Veil shook his head in mock disappointment, making his way to the entrance, desperately trying to mingle with the crowd of the high-class visitors; he straightened his posture, plastered an amicable expression to his face – but then recalled something important he hadn't done: turning around the corner and fading into shadows, he produced a tiny bottle of Apple's finest applejack – it was barely big enough to hold a single drink, but he needed no more: taking a bit into his mouth, he rolled the precious drink inside as if it was a mouthwash, assuring it washed over every nook and cranny; finally, the burning liquid rushed down the man's gullet, warmth spreading on the way – and the reek of alcohol taken was just striking from his mouth; then Moon Veil/Mist Shine/Whatevs dabbed a bit of the strong smelling beverage on his fingertip, promptly rubbing it into his neck, right below the jaw – to add to the already presenting scent of ethylene in his exhale; catching a whiff of himself, the man nodded contently; he already seemed like a tipsy one, so, adding a little slur to his speech and a slight rocking to his gait was an easy part. However, the rest of the drink never went to waste – he downed it in one swing, shuddering at the sheer potency of the brew.
Stumbling into the crowd of snub-nosed ladies and gentlemen, he mingled into the crowd, exchanging greetings nonchalantly, making his way slowly closer to the entrance; the security guards stood there stock still, with stony faces, observing the crowd with well-concealed despise. Moon decided it best not to jump the gun, so he kept at bay, chatting easily with some lady, who addressed him, waiting for the organization crew to announce the beginning of the Gala.
It went really soon, really – a tall, slim lady with long, flowing greenish-blue hair and impossibly green eyes, clad in black formal suit with somewhat tacky plastic flower in the buttonhole stepped out of the building, inviting the crowd inside. The bouncers lifted the silk rope from the stand, stepping away, as the second produced a clipboard with a list of guests, checking in.
“Name, sir?” - he grunted, not even honoring Moon with a glance.
“Mist Veil, fella – I am supposed to be in the VIP list, souno...” - slurred Moon, plastering a smug grin on his face. - “And hurry up, please, I've got no intention to stand here for long.”
“You are on the list, sir. May I see your invitation?” - growled the bouncer, a vein starting to pulse on his temple.
“Mate, I need no invitation. I believe you said I was on the list, so what's ya problem, chum?” - leaning closer to the bouncer and washing him in his alcohol fumes, the man poked his finger into the list repeatedly, applying some force. - “So, you wanna make it ugly, big oaf? Cuz if you wish, I just need one phone call, and your ass is going to be hauled all the way to Syberia, usee? A cruise is on the house, chum – and you can enjoy yourself in the heinos sweatshops, bear wrestlings and whatever else amusings they've got. Interested?”
“Sir, please, proceed.” - obviously striving to remain a facade, growled the security, moving aside.
“Thank you kindly, solid mate...” - Moon grinned smugly, patronizingly patting the guard on the shoulder. - “Here's for your trouble. Get yourself some ice cream...” - dropping a couple of bits on the counter in a negligent way, he strode inside, leaving the boiling bouncer behind.
“Think you're taking your legend... a bit too frivolous?” - chuckled Rungo in his ear as Moon was making his way to the snacks table, pretending he was interested in the spreads.
“Shut it.” - hissed the man, taking a bite of a meats plate; it was good, and the garcon, spotting him, appeared nearby, offering champagne; he took a glass, flicking a bit on the tray, eliciting a whole barrage of gratitude from the waiter, which he waved off nonchalantly; however, as soon as the boy left, Moon grinned at the 'jerk' he heard.
Good. Looks like it's working.
“Ladies and gentlemen, can I have a minute of your attention, please?..” - the mayor clambered up to the stage, grabbing hold of the mic. - “I wish to welcome you all at the Annual Canterlot Gala and wish you all a good time; but, before we start the entertainment, I'd like to review the most spectacular events and personalities of the year; so, allow me to introduce you to...” - Moon lost interest in the ramblings of the authority, observing the crowd; groups were building and colliding into nothingness, business was discussed, attires shown off – much as usual. He felt the small plastic box in his pocket, recalling Rungo's debriefing:
“This is pretty potent shit, so it's better not to be ingested with alcohol, as it's going to multiply the effect threefold; though, just pop it into liquid, drink – and in five minutes you're having a trip down the Wonderland for next five hours.”
As much as he despised the idea of using drugs as a diversion, he had no other choice.
Fire alarm? Nah, the security will probably scatter around the facility, evacuating the guests and localizing the fire source.
Start a commotion? Nuh-uh, he'd be just escorted away.
So, the best alternative was still the magic pill in his pocket. What to spike with it, he pondered idly, observing the room; the garcons were scurrying around with drinks, the crowd minding its own business, irons being in fire...
Wait a sec, flashed in his mind, garcons! He gestured to call one to himself:
“Hey – hey! Son! Come over here, m'boy.” - The waiter obliged instantly:
“Yes, sir – what can I get for you?”
“See that gentleman, over there, boy?” - Moon pointed at a random man, clad in expensive-looking silver-gray suit. - “He's me ol' buddy. Say, you have some of the LaFinesse cognac here or what?”
“I suppose we do, sir...” - the boy mumbled hesitantly, not sure how to be.
“So, we'll make it like this...” - Moon lowered his voice, as if offering the boy a conspiracy to stuff his pockets. - “You go to the bar, get a glass of LaFinesse, bring it to me so I could've checked that it's perfect – cuz me mate deserves only perfection – and you bring it over to him, as a courtesy from an old friend, right?..” - saying so, the man grasped the waiter's hand and put a nice little pouch of bits into his hand. - “We have a deal?”
“Whatever you say, sir! I'll be right back!” - the waiter sprung up, a coin pouch disappearing in his pocket faster than the flower in the hands of an illusionist. - “One LaFinesse cognac, coming right up!”
Moon nodded at him patronizingly, chuckling as the garcon rocketed away, reaching for his pocket and popping the pill inbetween his index and middle fingers; the transparent capsule held transparent spheres of a potent drug, just waiting to wreak chaos at the high-society soiree.
“I can smell the rumor mill firing up...” - chuckled Moon Shine, taking a sip of his champagne. The garcon reappeared near him with a snifter of a brown-golden liquid on his tray:
“As you ordered, sir – one portion of LaFinesse cognac!”
“Lemme see, boi...” - Moon chuckled slightly, well aware, of course, that the LaFinesse was a purely made-up brand, and reached for a glass, cupping his left palm around in, swirling the liquid. “Okay, here goes the hardest part...” - he mused, fanning his right hand above the brim of the glass, dropping the capsule with the first motion, as if checking the smell of the noble drink.
Exhaling internally, he swirled the liquid inside the glass some more, making the capsule dissolve faster, and raised the glass to the ceiling, looking through it; the pill dissolved completely, and he mentally praised himself for a job well done.
“I say, it's perfect!” - praised Moon, putting the glass back to the tray. - “Now off you go, solid mate, and cheer my friend up.”
“Yes sir, thank you, sir...” - the waiter nodded eagerly, taking off to the destination defined. Moon rubbed his jaw, frowning at the look at champagne glass in his hand.
“I did it.” - he said into the tiny mic, done as the tie pin. - “Magics inbound.”
“I hope you didn't spike nothing alcoholic?” - inquired Rungo. - “Cuz it's about to get messy.”
“Darest thou defy your superior of his wits?” - scolded Moon Shine, grinning ear to ear. - “Of course I did. And well, the messier the better. I need some good spectacle, a true eye-candy.”
“Okay then, enjoy the show in somewhat... three minutes.” - replied his accomplice with a sigh. - “And you'd wanna stay back.”
“Oh, I will...” - looking intently at his random victim, Moon pinched one berry from a grape vine, leaning against the marble statue of a nymph, modestly covering her privates with a long, flowing cloth. The marble almost felt warm to the touch, but right now the man was far from enjoying the fine arts – he witnessed as the man in gray suit ingested more and more of his wicked brew, obviously enjoying the fine taste of the noble drink, heedless of what surprise it held.
Rungo was right – exactly as the arrows in his wristwatch ticked past the three-minute mark, the poisoned gentleman bulged his eyes out, shrieked violently, and torn his shirt on his chest. The lady he was talking to backstepped, startled with the sudden outbreak, and the high gentleman yelled on top of his lungs: “I CAN SEE WHAT YOU'RE UP TO, YOU WRETCHED PUPPET OF A GOAT-FEELER!! YOU WON'T HAVE MY POT OF URANIUM NUGGETS!! NO, IT IS MINE!!” - and dashed away, growling, spitting, shrieking and even headbutting a waiter, that wasn't quick enough to retreat in his path. - “I CAN HEAR WITH MY TOES!! I CAN SEE WITH MY TEETH!! YOU ARE A PRICK, BRED FROM THE HERETICAL BOND OF CACTUS AND A NOOSE!!” - he yelled, pointing at the musicians at the stage; they ignored the outrage, however, and kept playing, and Moon praised them internally for their professional attitude; the crazed gentleman, however, kept running in random zigzags across the room, until he dropped to all fours, his eyes bloodshot and mad, baring his teeth, barking and howling, drooling all over the floor; surprisingly fast he scurried forward, startling the chubby lady in a gorgeous green dress, sniffing at her leg; once he made it to the snacks table, he howled out, flipping the table over, jumping on top of it, stomping it down mercilessly; once finished, his attention got caught in the statue that Moon was once leaning against; the drug-poisoned gentleman dashed away to it, clambering onto the pedestal, hugging the marble nymph like his own child, until he threw up with a gusto, covering the bouncer head to toes in a alcohol-reeking muck.
All this carnival took merely twenty seconds, as the poor innocent victim got grasped and escorted away; Moon, however, never wasted a second in creeping backstage and deeper into the building; he could hear the mayor's voice, coaxing the audience, insisting on keep enjoying the evening.
“You missed quite a spectacle.” - chuckled Rungo in his ear. - “It was something.”
“I hope you've got me a footage.”
“Well, yes?..” - intriguingly drawled his accomplice and old friend. - “Okay, you in?”
“Yup, almost there.” - glancing to and fro, acknowledged Moon. - “I can see Mayor's office. Stay frosty.”
“Copy that.” - with that done, Moon leisurely strode down the hall to his destination, inspecting the door; solid wood, good locks... Looks pretty tough to crack.
He pulled the handle: of course, it was locked tight.
“Well, time for some fun...” - he sighed, producing a small – slightly bigger than his middle finger – flashlight, Moon turned it on and grabbed with his teeth, pointing the narrow ray of white light into the lock; next he fiddled with the sleeve, producing two long thin metal objects, pushing both into the keyhole; a limmy and a lever.
Breathing in deep, he closed his eyes and concentrated all his attention in his fingertips, feeling the familiar prickling under the nails.
The limmy stirred inside the lock, as the invisible tip probed at the shafts, pushing it down in time with the slight turns by the lever; the lock was really tough, and it could take quite a time to open it, so Moon had no right to mistake.
Sweat trickled down his temples, as his strife with the lock intensified; he was so caught up in his business, that the sound of footsteps behind never triggered anything in him.
“Pack him, boys.” - the feminine voice ordered softly, starting Moon up with utter shock – and everything went dark and smelling of dust. “I got bagged.” - the last thought flashed through his mind, as something swished through the air and true darkness got over the world.
For how long was he blacked out – he couldn't say. But an ice-cold, taut jet of water quickly brought him back, hogtied, coughing and hacking.
The bag was taken away, and he felt uncomfortable chill in his soaked system; he was stripped down to the waist, hands tied behind his back, him kneeled in some concrete box room. As he managed to blink away the water from his eyes and looked up, a stinging swish of a riding crop landed across his face, making him grit his teeth hard.
“Alright, big guy, now, that you're awake, shall we introduce one another?” - inquired the woman that seemed to be in charge here; blinking away the shooting stars of pain, Moon squinted to see her face in the bright lights of a powerful lamps, facing him intently; he never managed to make out what her face was, but the unmistakable hue of her hair proved, that it was the same woman who invited the guests in in the first place.
“My name is Chryss, and I am in charge of security in this place; but little Peeping Toms like you – and the other naughty boys and girls, as well – soon learn that calling me Queen is the best for them. Queen Chrysalis, mind you.” - the riding crop touched his bare shoulder almost softly. - “And who're you supposed to be, big man?”
“Call me Duke Upyerarse, lady.” - snided Moon, earning another painful lash.
“Feisty. Is good. More fun for me...” - chuckled Chrysalis, licking her lips. She kicked the man up his ribs with her shiny black shoe. Ow.
“So, what was the big idea of snooping? And attempted break and entering... Not good, my little puppet...” - she scolded, lifting Moon's head with her crop. - “What're you up to? We've found a very interesting stuff in your pockets: a micro mic in the tie pin... I guess, there's also a micro speaker in your ear, that right?” - the man never honored the lady with an answer. - “Which makes it two. But that aside, what were you hoping to find in the boss's office?”
“Washroom.” - he grinned, thus getting another lashing barrage. The riding crop went all over his torso, leaving red marks, even drawing blood. Moon groaned loudly, trying to shudder off the stinging pain. - “Whoa, whoa, lady – no need to go so harsh about me, eh. If you like it hard, just call me, I'll give you the number, and we can work it out, if you'll ask nice enough... OOF!” - the sharp heel of her shoe hit him in a very sensitive male anatomy part, making Moon double over in pain and hyperventilate, bulging his eyes out:
“I do like it hard, as you put it... But I despise even the slightest possibility of getting to it with a filthy criminal like you.” - deadpanned Chrysalis. - “So, I want an answer.”
“Uuuh... honey, ur so hot when ur angry... I bet we can have a bloody fantastic time together...” - snided Moon, straightening his posture, grinning smugly at the enraged woman. - “This suit looks great on you, sugarplum, but it just doesn't get that hawt rump right, I say. I bet you'd be so much better without it...” - his further jeering was cut short with fierce barrage of lashing – double against all he was facing beforehand put together; Chrysalis was just seething with rage, the crop whistling again and again, until Moon craned his neck and bit down on the flat ending of the crop, tugging it forwards, almost making the woman trip over her own feet, crop flying away from her hands; spitting out the leather flap, Moon Shine grinned nastily:
“See, hun – I bite. Bet ya'll like it when I'll get to you...”
With fire in her eyes, the lady roared and kicked Moon in the chin with bone-shattering force, throwing him onto his back, leaving him rolling on the floor; she spun on her heels sharply, leaving the room, as the door boomed closed behind her.
Moon waited patiently as the pain in his jaw subsided enough to let him think again and clambered back to his knees, spitting out some blood and feeling his teeth; looks like all were intact. His taunting earned him some time to think of the getaway plan, even though the lashes hurt like seven Hells. He quickly assessed his current position: it looked shitty. Locked out in some strange room, soaked in ice-cold water, standing in the puddle of his own blood, slowly mixing with water, bleeding, whipped like a cream and hogtied.
“Meh, I've had better days...” - he grunted, bending backwards to try and undo the knot on his legs; the first thing his numbing fingers met was a string, that connected the ties of his legs to those on his arms, preventing him from standing up, forcing to remain kneeled; it was damn smart.
However, he managed to find out that he still had a way to get out. A brightly lit highway, really: he was tied with a paper twine.
“Real smooth, guys, thank you...” - he chuckled, overcoming the excruciating pain, pulsing from the bruised groin and overcoming the whole body – partially from the super-inconvenient pose and restricted blood circulation. Bending backwards even more, grunting with pain, Moon managed to fall on the floor and squirmed, putting all he had into straightening his legs, trying to pop the connecting string off; wasn't it for the water, absorbed with the paper twine, he'd have never made it. Grunting with the pain, caused by the ties cutting into his ankles and wrists, he pushed harder, feeling a tear of exertion slide down his bruised face, he pushed and pushed, until the sparks flew under the shut eyelids – and he heard a pop, feeling free to bend again. Huffing and sweating, grunting with the pricking sensation of salt in the wounds, he allowed himself a short breather before trying to commence part two. The hard part.
Since the arms of an average human cannot roll all the way around in their joints, he couldn't just roll his hands around back and undo the knots; so, it was about dragging them all the way down his back and legs to break free. Much like yoga, but way more pressing.
“Oh, I sure wish I would've done yoga before...” - he sighed, positioning himself on his back, legs propped towards the ceiling. Splaying his elbows as much as he could, he tried fitting his bottom through the ring his arms presented; it was exruciating – the bruised body protested, bursting with white-hot pokers of pain. And, to add up, the arse didn't even seemed to budge. He was stuck like that – sweating bullets, with a propped upwards rear and feet dangling in mid-air helplessly.
“Ohshit... Comeoncomeoncomeooon!!!” - Moon hissed, trying to pull down with all he could, gritting his teeth, grinding them, even, desperately striving with his own body against all laws of nature.
After seconds of torture, his bottom slipped through. He exhaled, elated with his small victory, breathing heavily; still, he was stuck in a very, very uncomfortable and awkward pose – tied hands at the knee level, doubled over, butt almost parallell to the ceiling.
“Huff... cmncmoncmooon, bitch...” - swearing got him howhere, and Moon Shine felt a wave of panic wash over him. He was an easy target as of now, heart racing, blood drumming in his ears like crazy war drums, every muscle in his body spasming with pain, every sinew stretched to the limit, and his shoulder joints burnt mad; if he'd have both arms displaced, it'd be no wonder to him, but as of now, he had to break free. Another run with the crazy whip-toting lady was nowhere near his comfort zone, especially being hogtied and beaten mercilessly.
“Guess I'm not asking no lady not to play nice at me in bed ever again...” - he muttered, mustering up all he could for another try. The cold wave of panic subsided, leaving a lingering feeling – and he tried again, tears of pain and exertion flowing from his eyes, as he thrusted maniacally, trying to pull the rest of his legs through the ring of his tied arms.
“Stuck.” - he grimly announced into his crotch, his spine practically roaring out in anger, stretched to the limit, as his hands were stuck at the point of his heels. No matter how hard he pulled, he was just stuck.
“Well, I guess, that's it...” - he muttered, struggling for breath. - “Sorry, Cheers.” - it was almost impossible to breathe in, his chest compressed, and he felt the asphyxia getting to him hard; the flies dashed in his eyes, as Moon tugged again, desperately, trying to get even a shallow inhale, when an idea struck his oxygen-deprived brain: exhale!! Exhale, so that the volume of chest cavity would shrink, allowing to pull legs closer, and thus... probably – break free.
Can't hurt to try, though – and so he did, squeezing the last molecules of air out of his lungs, making a last desperate effort to pull closer...
...and suddenly his legs hit the floor hard, air pouring into his lungs in generous streams with each greedy inhale.
He did it.
He fucking did it.
But there was no time for triumph: he still had to undo the knots.
Raising his numb hands to his face, Moon bit down hard on the string, growled, like a dog, swaying his head sideways, tugging and biting until the string popped loose. He threw it off, rubbing life and blood back into his hands, hissing with sharp pain and flexing his fingers thoroughly; this kept on for quite a decent time until he went down to the legs, undoing the knots and stretching wide and long; massage – and he's good to go, musing on how to escape the place.
Solid concrete walls, two lamp posts in the corners, burning at his cornea with intense white light, a metal door... looks like no weak spots. A riding crop on the floor, abandoned by Chrysalis.
An idea struck Moon, and he rubbed his hands, chuckling ominously.
“Hey! Hey!! Hey!!!” - he yelled, sitting on the floor as if he was still tied up, wires hidden under his butt. - “HEEY!! PEOPLE!! I WANNA MAKE A DUMP!!”
A guard poked his head into the room, cringing: “Do it in ya pants, sucka.”
“Hey! Hey! Yes you – you there! With a face! U no who u messing with, boi?! This suit costs more than your sorry ass can earn in a third-world sweatshop in your life, including both your kidneys sold at the blackmarket, bitch!” - he yelled, hoping that the guard would have the balls to come in. - “And what do I see, you halfwit? I see a momma's boy, living in the basement, crying his ass out on how he never gets laid, wanking at the loli porn I see! Yo momma dresses you, you fancy fanny? That's what I see, cuz no proper man would have a face like that – boi, you headbutted a belt sander or what?” - Moon Shine grinned nastily, spewing profanities at the guard, whose face reddened with anger till it matched ripe beetroot in color; he had seen his words get to him. - “Come on, sissy – I can get you even tied like that! I spit on you, you fartbrain!!” - he hacked and spat, hitting the guard right in the face.
That sent him over the edge. Snoring like a bull, he dashed inside, taking a nightstick out of its sheath – and already swung it over to pummel the man, when Moon grinned:
“Think fast, chucklenuts!” - his hand bolted forward, squeezing guard's testicles hard and tugging downward with substantial power; the bouncer bulged his eyes out, mouth agape in a silent cry of agony, falling to his knees – only to be dropped to the floor with Moon's knee meeting his chin with a power of a coal train. Picking up a nightstick, Moon gave it a couple of test swings, cracking his neck; the guard seemed to squirm on all fours, trying to stand up, when the thick rubber club landed on the back of his head, knocking him out cold.
“Hey, bruh, u need help with that?” - came the voice from outside the cell, and Moon grinned, mocking the voice of the first best he could:
“Yah! C'mere, let's have some!” - and dashed behind the door, watching it open slightly, as the second guard stepped in with a nasty grin on his face. The grin faded, however, as soon as he had seen his 'bruh' laying face-first on the floor, in the puddle of water, mixed with blood – and no Moon.
He hadn't had the chance to ponder at it, however, as the nightstick flew across his face like a baseball bat, knocking the lights of day away from him.
“Score...” - panted Moon, dragging the second unconscious body inside and quickly searching their pockets: he found his cellphone, limmies and wristwatch, and tisked:
“Had yo momma ever told you, that stealing ain't good, boys? That's for my suit, by the way...” - he kicked the unconscious guards in the ribs, hard. - “It really cost me a fortune. Okay, cya, boys... I'm on a date with a certain kinky chick...” - Moon threw the nightstick aside, stripping one of the bouncers from shirt and jacket; he might have his face bruised bad, but he wasn't about to stroll around half-naked. It's unbefitting of a gentleman, and Moon Shine – through and through – was a gentleman. Somewhere deep. Really deep.
Security chief Chryss entered the shadowed lounge, grunting with irritation; the accident with Fancy Pants' sudden amok, the sassy lockpick guy and the whole stuff about the Gala worn her out; she lit a cigarette and headed to a cooler to make herself some coffee, when a familiar voice whispered in her ear:
“Sorry if I'm not bowing, my Queen...”
She reacted instinctively, the way she'd been taught on those self-defence courses she'd aced: a sharp elbow blow to the solar plexus, the shoe hill to the foot and a right hook in the chin – but was startled to feel a hard palm stopping her elbow dead and an arm grabbing her neck in a tight lock; she squirmed to break free, but to no avail: the assailant held her firm.
“Let go... of me... you creep...” - she panted out, feeling helpless – and deprived of oxygen slightly; her attacker emitted an irony smell of blood and sweat, and she felt her stomach sink.
“No. Sorry, but I don't like being hogtied and whipped, sweetie – unless it's consensual.” - chuckled the voice of the sassy lockpick guy, that made Chrysalis freeze. - “So...”
“How did you?..” - she stuttered, terrified, adrenaline rushing in her, heart racing madly. - “It can't be...”
“I can be really persistent, sweetheart...” - taunted her ex-victim; looks like they've traded roles – he was now the hunter, and she was the prey.
“Watchu want?!” - she whined, trying to squirm her elbow free from the expert lock she was in; it didn't even budge. - “You want me?”
“No. I want something else. But if you'd like, call me later, sugarcube...” - a callous, hard palm gripped her cheeks, turning her head to the side, and she faced the bruised, lashed man she left locked up until further interrogation just half an hour ago. - “But yeah, there's something I have in mind...”
“Let's just talk about it... Just – unhand me...” - she begged.
“Listen here, sweet lass – I'll let you go if you promise to behave. And now...” - he weakened the grasp just a bit. - “...you will turn back...” - a little more pressure was taken away, letting Chrysalis move. - “...sit on that there couch and close your eyes. And don't even trouble – the door is locked, and I have the keys. Hand over yours, by the way...” - Chrysalis obeyed, hypnotized with that strong scent of blood and sweat, lingering in the air. - “Good girl. Now, on the couch.” - She did so, sitting down gingerly, gazing awestruck at the rumbling hulk of a man – vengeance incorporated – standing in front of her, dripping blood on the carpet... was he really that big or was it just a play of light and shadow?..
“Good girl...” - he purred dangerously, sitting down near her and gently caressing her hair; his palm caressed her face, eliciting a prickling sensation south of her navel, making her gasp at surprise and blush vividly:
“Now, relax... I'll be gentle...” - with a grin, he inched closer to the fluttering girl, observing her closed eyes, startled face and half-parted lips; putting his fingers around her neck, Moon moved closer, until their lips met; a furious, anger-fueled kiss, that even evolved into a full-fledged bite from him, drawing blood from her delicate lip, while his fingers squeezed her neck gently in just the right spots; Chrysalis panted into the man's mouth, shuddering, her eyelids flattering, as the blood flow into her brain was being restricted, gently sliding her into unconsciousness.
With the last crumbles of strength she could muster, she whispered: “you do bite...” - and blacked out.
“Dog nap. Never gets old...” - chuckled Moon Shine, wiping the lady's blood from his lips and putting her down on the couch, as if she just dozed off; weighing the ring of keys on his hand, he left the lounge, grabbing his belongings and locking it from outside.
Provided with the keychain of security chief, he easily entered the Mayor's office, searching for his ultimate prize – a well-earned one, if burning pain in the whole body meant something; it was soon found, gladly – and he quickly found out why his employer was specific of the fact that he wouldn't peek into the folder: it sported a wax seal on it, that would reveal the fact of opening.
He tugged his tie higher, straightening the pin mic:
“Rungo? You there, mate?”
“Captain! Gog, I've been beside myself. What's up?”
“I got the package; get to the staff exit, pick me up. And get me somewhere where they can patch me up.”
“Copy.” - Rungo hung up, and Moon, leaving the mayor's office, locked it up – and hung the keychain on the handle. Moving to the exit, he felt a smudge of something on his cheek; wiping it with a finger, he figured it was that kinky chick's lip blossom. It smelled – and tasted – of cherry.
“Cherry lip blossom. That's immature... Hot, but immature.” - he chuckled to himself, finally leaving the building and lighting a cigarette. Job was done, and that was all that mattered – and even ovedone, which meant extra pay.
“Man, u look bad...” - Rungo made wide eyes at his friend, as he got in the car. - “What's up? Fought cats?”
“Well, exactly one cat, pretty big one – call it tigress, even – that toted a riding crop.” - he replied, dragging deep. - “Got some booze?”
“I gave up on that stuff long ago.” - replied ex-sergeant. - “I never thought you were into all that sado-mazochistic stuff anyway. Well, new day – new kinks...”
“Shut the fuck up, mate...” - laughed Moon, throwing the butt away. - “And let's go already. I'm sick and tired with this place”.
“Good! That's good! Snowflake, keep up the pace – faster and shorter strokes! Miss Octavia, you're great. Pinkie, the crescendo is a bit faster; it's more of a blastbeat part. Rainbow and Sunset – great, but Sunset needs a little more work on her vibrato. Rarity – don't rush it. Flash Sentry – you're jumping in one tact early, don't rush. Vinyl, more treble. Aside from that – you made me proud, people! That's what I want to see.” - Moon Shine applauded his orchestra, jumping off the railing. - “So, see you all tomorrow. Practice, people – practice makes perfect. Really. We still have a load of time, so don't worry. As of now – dismissed!” - waving goodbye to his students, he ascended to the radio booth, helping Vinyl gather all the wires. That done, Moon descended the stairs to grab his bag and spotted Rarity, modestly leaning against the railing, obviously waiting for something.
“Yes, miss Belle – can I help you?” - cocking his head to the side, Moon flashed the girl a smile.”
“Why, yes, sir, I was wondering...” - she bit her bottom lip, curling a lock of hair around her index finger shyly. - “...I was wondering if I may ask you a... well, a personal question?..”
“Well, okay.” - nodded the man, throwing his bag belt over his shoulder. - “Ask away.”
“Is that a whiplash on your face?” - Rarity deadpanned point-blank.
“Yes. Why?” - chuckled Moon. - “And how do you know?”
Now it was Rarity's turn to blush.
“Why, I was doing jousting for as long as I remember myself, darling! Unless you, sir, imply something a proper gentleman is not even supposed to know about!! Oh, I am shocked, sir – simply shocked!!” - the amount of drama quickly surpassed the red field of the dial, and Moon raised a hand submissively:
“Whoa-ho-hoah, hold it, miss! I wasn't implying nothing – actually, you were the first to ask of me. So...”
“Why, this whole situation is pretty awkward indeed...” - mused the fashionable girl out loud. - “Nevertheless, pray tell – is Miss Cheerilee the cause of this?” - a dangerous spark flicked in her sapphire-blue eyes, and Moon creased a brow at her:
“It's pretty funny you're asking... Why?”
“My dear, sir – every last student in our school knows that Miss Cheerilee lives with you!” - she giggled. - “So, I was thinking if she, well... might've had some funny tastes?..”
“Now, miss Belle – first off, Miss Cheerilee lives at my place because she had suffered a fire.” - sternly retorts Moon Shine. - “And she is treated as a guest and a friend she is. Hence I'd ask of you to stop feeding the rumor mill and concentrate on your work for the coming concert. I believe we have an agreement, miss Belle?..”
“Yes, sir...” - she replied, crestfallen. - “I am sorry to ask that of you.”
“No biggie, Rarity.” - he smiled reassuringly at the girl, giving her a slight pat on the shoulder. - “It's just not something you want to know of me. Just a little accident, is all.”
“I hope you get well soon, sir.” - she beamed a smile at him, hoisting her own bag onto her shoulder. - “Thank you for your honesty, sir – thank you and goodbye.” - waving a hand at Moon, she took off, swaying her hips slightly; shouldn't have Moon known better, he'd say someone had a schoolgirl crush.
But he did knew better.
“Mister Moon...” - Sunset's fiery head poked into the teachers' lounge. - “Principle Celestia wants to see you.”
“Thank you, Sunset; I'm coming.” - nodding goodbye to the phys-ed teacher he was chatting with, Moon Shine headed straight to the principle's office.
“You summoned me, Principle, ma'am?” - he inquired, standing at attention in the middle of the office; besides him and the hostess of the office, there were also Dean Cadence (who obviously didn't recognize Moon au naturel) and some lady, clad in a fancy jacket with a flower in the buttonhole. He pondered for a second, why the Crystal Preps were here – and what was it for.
“Yes, mister Moon, I did.” - replied Celestia with a soft smile. - “Please, meet miss Cadence – she's the Dean of Crystal Prep Academy...” - Moon kissed a hand of blushing Cadence. - “...and miss Flitter, the teacher in vocals from CPA...” - the second lady smiled with dignity, accepting the kiss on the hand. - “Ladies, meet our Music teacher and the director of the charity fundraising concert, mister Moon Shine.”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir.” - smiled dean Cadence, while Flitter just nodded with a smile.
“The pleasure is all mine, ladies.” - Moon nodded curtly.
“Miss Cadence and miss Flitter came all the way here with a group of volunteer students to help us arrange the concert upon our request.” - explained Celestia. - “The students of Crystal Prep Academy also wished to participate in a concert; their group would be conducted by miss Flitter; she was also kind enough as to offer her services in directing our groups in terms of vocals.”
“That's very generous of you, ma'am.” - Moon allowed himself to smile, ignoring the nagging feeling of 'something's-just-not-right'. - “I appreciate it and gladly accept your offer.”
“Marvelous...” - smiled Flitter, replying in a deep, sensual voice that immediately made Moon's every hair stand on its end. - “I'll be glad to help.”
“Well then, I will leave you to mister Moon's attention, miss Flitter...” - smiled Celestia. - “...as me and Dean Cadence have something to discuss. Nice having you here, mister Moon.”
“My pleasure, ma'am.” - nodded Moon Shine, turning to leave the office, accompanied with Flitter. They were strolling down the hall, heading for the teachers' lounge, silent – and Flitter kept stealing glances of Moon Shine; he, however, was neck-deep in his own thoughts.
“This way, please...” - he invited, opening the door to the teachers' lounge for the lady; she came in, sneaking a half-lidded gaze at Moon.
“So... You're a Vocals teacher, aren't you, ma'am?..” - he inquired, finding no better theme for a small icebreaker talk, to which she just nodded, still sporting her vague, mysterious smile. - “Must say, you've simply an enchanting voice. Have you sang at the opera?” - Flitter shook her head, throwing one leg over another. - “It's a shame you haven't. The opera's missing out on such a treasure like you, ma'am...” - he stuttered abruptly, befuddled with Flitter's strange demeanor.
“I guess I've just never felt enough courage to sing for the audience...” - smiled Flitter, shifting her legs again. - “That's why I teach how to sing, and don't do it myself...”
“Uh-huh, understood...” - nodded Moon, scratching the lash bruise; it itched mercilessly, as if ants were crawling all over it.
“And you? You're a musician, right?” - Flitter leaned back on the couch.
“Uh, yeah, used to be, at least, I think...” - replied Moon absentmindedly, catching himself staring at the lady's legs. Dayum they be nice. - “I do bagpipes, tambourine, harmonica, tumtum... some guitar, when I feel like it.”
“That sounds wonderful, mister Shine...” - purred Flitter, spreading her legs slightly; if one'd glance up her skirt, one'd manage to find out the keenest details of her underwear design; and, in spite of having a perfect vantage point, Moon opted not to break eye contact - “I even feel... singlehanded presented to such diversity.”
“Eh, having a past of a garage band percussionist...” - shrugged the man, involuntarily tugging down the left sleeve of his shirt – the one covering the tattoo. - “Guess old skills just don't rust.”
“Hmm... Mister Moon, could you please get me a glass of water? This place is pretty toasty...” - Flitter almost moaned, reaching for the collar of her blouse, starting to undo the buttons; Shine quickly stood up and intentionally slow walked over to the water cooler, pouring a full cup; the room actually felt hotter, heat rising along with his thermometer, but the swarm of thoughts kept buzzing: what's her deal? Is she hitting on me or what? Dayum dat one is hawt... But dayum I don't need trouble as of now...
“Thank you, darling...” - batting an eyelashes at him, Flitter reached for the cup, leaning forward and lingering for a brief second: her blouse buttons were undone merely the halfway down, revealing pretty much everything – and most boldly stating the fact that this suave-voiced lynx sported no bra.
Oh heck, jeered the 'conscience', admit it, mate: ur huge sucka for this kind of girls! Moon sat stock still, gathering every last drop of his willpower not to gawk and to maintain the easy chat:
“So, Crystap Prel? I mean, Crystal Prep? And how's the place?”
“Oh, it's marvelous, if you're into the snobby pricks for students...” - huffed Flitter. - “This pays my bills, however, and the prefect is quite handsome... too bad he's engaged already...” - she sighed, running a finger down her neck just-as-if-unintentionally; Moon gulped down the lump in his throat, covering himself by putting a leg onto a leg. - “And too bad I'm just so weak for strong, handsome men.”
“Well, Nature knows best, I'm sure.” - Moon grinned dumbly, trying not to fall spellbound to the charms of that bodacious lynx with doe eyes and a voice of a siren; it wasn't that he felt himself too engaged in whatever he had with Cheerilee not to have some quality time with a lady eager and consenting, something just felt... wrong. As if he was a mouse, presented to some free cheese. And a clever mouse knows where the free cheese is provided.
In the mousetrap.
“Say, mister Moon...”
“Oh, drop the formalities, ma'am; call me just Moon or Shine, whatever strikes you fancy.”
“Oh... yes, Shiny...” - Moon's ear twitched involuntarily at the fresh nickname. - “Say, may I ask you a... personal question?..” - Flitter changed her seat, now lounging on a couch mere foot away from Moon.
“I guess, you can...”
“I couldn't help but notice that your face is... damaged. As for me, I find it very... attractive...” - breathing out the last word, Flitter inched closer. - “But – what was the cause of this unfortunate turn of events?..”
“Polo game.” - Moon shot out, the Lies Machine coughing and screeching, overcome by testosterone rushing in his blood. - “I was playing polo with my old college friend, and, well... things turned out the wrong way.”
“Ohh, poor dear...” - Flitter frowned slightly, inching ever closer, her hips now brushing against Moon's. - “A polo game... such a fluttering experience... strong, agile men, mounting the magnificent beasts, strife for dominance... it's almost a knight's tournament clash, is it not? I myself find it very... arousing...” - licking her lips, Flitter laid a hand onto Shine's knee, making him tense up for a second. - “And you?”
“It's a good fun, when you don't get a whiplash in your face.” - he replied, suppressing a stutter. - “And yes, it is quite... amusing.”
“Mmm... and that scar? It makes you look... carnivorous, like a tiger, eyeing down his prey before pouncing...” - inching ever so close, Flitter purred into the man's ear, softly ruffling the hair in the back of his head before retracting her sharp nail down his neck, enunciating the last word; this little demarche earned her a massive shiver of delight from Shine, who shook away the overcoming feeling (taking his time to relish on it, though) and stared back at the seducing lady:
“Um... Flitter...”
“I like it when you drop the attitude.” - she teased. - “So, how about we go somewhere... private? Say, my place?..”
“I, er... I'm kinda not that okay with that...”
“Your place?..” - she creased an eyebrow, sly grin slowly creeping across her face. - “That's naughty...”
“I mean...” - Moon cleared his throat. - “I mean, we've met ten minutes ago.”
“So what?..”
“Eh, I don't feel like jumping the gun this soon... 'sides, I... I need to go check on my students! Yeah, students! Prepairing for the concert and stuff. Yeah. Like that.” - real smooth, halfwit, sneered the 'conscience'.
Flitter scratched him behind the ear teasingly:
“Shame... Well, when you're done with the attitude of a skittish schoolgirl, come see me.” - she grabbed a pen and quickly jotted down the address. - “I'll be waiting...” - she blew a kiss at Moon, swaying her hips just so naturally on her way out and darted him a bedroom glance, holding so much promises...
So, here's your alternatives, mate: get laid with this sizzling hot succubus and have the time of your life – or head home and explain yourself to Cheerilee – inclining she didn't see the bruises as of yet, concluded the nasty voice of conscience in his head. Moon, however, was thinking in four dimensions: he beeped the A.B.:
“Got the folder; seal intact. Things got hairy; this'll cost more. Dead drop location?” - and sent it away, sighing reluctantly; his arousal faded gradually, echoing in the bruised back with a small nasty pricks of frustration, so he had to move the scapulas close to get rid of the nasty feeling. The answer came shortly after: “Mail me with full report. Leave the documents in the locker. State your charge. A.B.”.
At least that was the easy part.
The clerk in the storage recognised him immediately, handing over the key without even saying the word; Intimidation 101, for Dummies, giggled the 'conscience'. The locker was empty, so he just put the package in, turning in the key, and left home.
Cheerilee wasn't there, of course; she still had the classes, and Moon silently pondered what was that strange glee he felt upon realizing this. In the living room, however, he had found a note that read:
“Shine,
I'll be back late today; got extracurriculum at school and then have to go check on my house; the insurances finally found their reason and quit bitching, so I can start the repairs.
Come see me if you're okay with that, or just wait for me.
Cheerilee <3”.
“I'm so having a crush...” - never yet was the obvious so relaxing for Moon Shine, the man with made-up past, vague present and foggy future.
Being done with the report for an employer, he glanced at his wristwatch: half-past twelve. Ohmai, tis noon yet? Weighing down all of his alternatives, the man stretched nicely, feeling the shoulders pop delightfully, the dull pain from yesterday's stunts seeping away, and came to a conclusion that he definitely could've used a long, hot shower and a tall drink of something that kicks harder than a pissed mule; so, discarding all the clothes, he jumped right to the first part of the agenda: shower.
At least half an hour later, when he stumbled away, not even bothering to wrap a towel around his waist, red and fuzzy with the overcoming feeling of pleasure, he wiped the vapors off the mirror, observing his bruised frame; red lines came together into an intricate pattern, as is someone was meant to play sudoku on his torso, drawing the grid; back suffered less, as the front side of his took all the whipping; some wounds were covered with bloodcrust, and all of them ached dully. He looked away from the bruises, grinning into the mirror and thrusting his pelvis sideways a couple of times, pretending to do an awfully obscene interpretive dance:
“Tis ma house, beech – mahouse...” - he grumbled in the idiotic tone, grinning nastily to the mirror; however, this sort of antics grow old as soon as they're pulled, and Moon, drying his head off with a towel, made his way out of the bathroom to get some drinks.
With a whiskey glass full of his trademark cocktail “Modesty” (two parts vodka, two parts brandy, shot of tequila and a slice of lemon) in hand, sipping at it, he strode around the apartment, naked, and pondered about his past – his real past, not the one flash-cooked by the Lies Machine.
Nostalgy washed over him, as he wrapped himself in the bathrobe and plopped on the couch, taking a swig of 'Modesty': college years, little garage band that collided into nothingness after a year, first small cons, involving rigging the game of Baccara to his favor... And then – his Big Failure, messing with the wrong guys in a game, and the cliffhanger situation between being shot like a dog for robbing them blind over a game of cards and working for them... then – boot camp, years and years of shady service, official retirement from the ranks – an honorary one, for all them Iron Owls – Moon smirked bitterly, observing the keepsake from the time – a tattoo on his forearm, the silent witness of the most wretched injustice and depravity one can even not fathom to witness. Then – stalking around, changing names, professions, making up fresh life stories every time...
“To fook with that...” - he chanted, taking another tall drink of 'Modesty'; the vicious mix already started to kick in, hard, stirring awake some deep, dark, primal instincts.
Clock chimed quarter to two in the afternoon, and Moon Shine, downing the rest of his drink, raised from the couch, dropping the bathrobe to the floor; alcohol splashed right behind his eyes, whispering to him, encouraging and pushing.
“Ready or not, here I come...” - he chuckled darkly, buckling his belt and reaching for his shirt pocket...
...in a matter of minutes, he was standing in front of the door with the plate, reading '28'; Moon smirked, passing the match he was chewing on across his mouth and knocked hard, three times.
The door opened, and he was about to drop the killer line...
...but instead he just breathed out pathetically: “Oh fook me...”
“Your wish is my command...” - grinned Flitter, grabbing the man at his collar and pulling him inside.
Awestruck, Shine didn't even resisted being dragged all the way down the small highway and tossed onto the queen-sized bed, as the sly grinning woman, donning nothing but a set of black lace lingerie, approached him, letting her light-blue hair fall loose, cascading down below the breasts; he was really thunderstruck, not even able to mutter out a word.
“Glad you decided quickly...” - cooed Flitter, approaching her paralyzed prey. - “I even feared for a second that I was too... assertive on you...” - she inched closer and closer, as Moon strifed himself for even the slightest chance to reply – with anything – rather than just drop his jaw and gawk at the perfectly seductive succubus he was presented to. - “But I see now that I was wrong...” - crawling onto the bed, she quickly straddled the man, grinding herself slightly against him. - “So, now you're not going anywhere... until I have what I need.”
“And?...” - croaked Moon, finally triumphant in the battle over his vocal chords.
“And...” - Flitter smiled vaguely, undoing the buttons on his shirt – one by one, agonizingly slowly. - “And I assure you, you'll remember this...” - splaying the shirt flaps wide, she ran her fingers all across the bruised torso, tracing every red line with her delicate fingertips. - “Are those the remnants of a polo game?..” - he winked, brushing her hair over the man's face, washing him in the delicate blend of scents of her perfume and her skin.
“You could say so...” - groaned Moon, clambering away from his shirt and kicking the boots off; all effects of 'Modesty' seemed to dissipate into nothingness with the growing pressure somewhere under the crown of his head.
“Hmm... such strong, enduring man... battle-scarred... all for me.” - purred Flitter, pressing herself against Shine; her small delicate hands caressed his neck, eliciting the palpable shivers of pleasure, making Moon melt like butter in her hands; it was a pure reverie for him.
When he, in turn, made a move to her, raising his hand to put it to her, Flitter buried her nails sligtly into his neck – sufficient to make it sensible, on the verge of painful:
“Nuh-uh, Shiny – no touching just yet...” - she planted a small kiss on the man's lips, grinning slyly as he put his hands to the sides, as if submitting; all the world was gone for good for him – everything just centered on Flitter's scent, her soft moans, her ever-so-delicate hands... She was hell of a tease, and she was good at it, which made the incoming experience worth the wait.
As she was exploring Moon's battle bruises, Flitter seemed to turn on more and more, grinding herself excitedly against the man, biting her bottom lip; she went on from just caressing to small kisses and scratches, nibbling and licking; Moon was just over his head, his hands itching with the need to cope a feel of that atlas-smooth skin, of those perfect curves, of Flitter.
It was some obsession, and Moon Shine, the con artist with a bad records, happily obliged to it.
In the meantime Flitter's hands had found the buckle of the belt; without hesitation, they've unclasped it, undoing the buttons of Moon's jeans; he quickly got the hint, restoring the status quo: now they both were equally dressed. Well, undressed in the equal measure.
“Flitter...” - growled Moon. - “Flitter?”
“Yes?..” - asked the temptress, grinning victoriously, grinding herself excitedly against Moon. - “What is it, Shiny?..”
“No hands, you say...” - he smirked, opening one eye, his voice shaky with intense jolts of pleasure, torrenting through every neuron in his system.
“Yes, I do...”
“Well, think again.” - with a triumphant smirk, Moon quickly turned the tables, flicking Flitter onto her back so that he was now in charge; she was startled with the abrupt seize of initiative, but submitted willingly, as Shine's coarse palms travelled along her body, feeling every small shiver her delicate body gave out in reaction to the caressing; one hand reached deep under her back, unclasping a lock in a single motion, earning a surprised 'Ah!' from Flitter; then, with a throaty growl, Moon grabbed her bra with his teeth and dragged it away, rewarded with a shudder of pleasure from Flitter; now his hands had more to deal with – and he was only happy to take extra duties.
Now it was Flitter's time to melt and shiver to the tease; she moaned softly, relishing in the feeling, until reaching out and engaging Moon in a feverous, lust-crazed kiss; the tables were turned again, Flitter straddling Shine, grinding herself feverously against a well-defined amusement of a man; her whole body trembled, and each tiny touch elicited a lusty moan from her; again, a crazy-yet-so-good-idea crept into Moon's mind; carefully picking his time, he broke the kiss abruptly, catching Flitter's delicate neck with his teeth and squeezing slightly; the reaction was immediate and powerful. Flitter's eyes flew open, and she let out a throaty growl, rustling Moon's jimmies completely, as her whole body spasmed and twitched with intense pleasure; and he wasn't even getting started yet...
...hours past, covered in sweat and blood from the reopened wounds and Flitter's scratches, disheveled and exhausted completely, yet perfectly content, Moon pressed the cigarette butt in the hotel's ashtray, gently caressing Flitter's cheek; the girl was a mess – her silky hair now resembled a damp mop, she sported bite marks all over – but her eyes glowed with joy and satisfaction, as she cuddled closer to the man:
“I needed this, Shiny. I really did.”
“I can tell...” - he smirked, basking in the glow of her eyes and a happy smile. - “You've expressed it quite... vividly.”
“Well, the problem is... deeper.” - Flitter planted a small kiss on Moon's chest and sighed. - “It's not just that I'm some sex-crazed vixen...”
“But you are.”
“...well, yes, it's a blessing – and a curse, but it's not about just that...” - Flitter looked Moon in the eye. - “You see, I can have any man I want – it's out of question. It's just that I've never had no one who just, well... caught my drift. My tastes might seem... odd. I might've been considered... kinky. Not that it gets to me, but... But...”
“But it does.” - deadpanned Moon, hugging the lady closer. - “See, I understand what you're about to say. But I say, fook the plain. Go fresh.”
“And I've never had the man who could've make me really sore. Ow...” - Flitter giggled, shifting under the blanket. - “I'm worn out. Thank you, Shiny...”
“No biggie... I guess...” - he trailed off abruptly, observing in shock as the blanket was raising in a very telltale manner.
“Well, I think there's something more to discuss...” - Flitter winked coyly. - “What was the last score? 6-2?..”
“I don't think I can get it like 7-3 or 8-4...” - groaned Moon, but Flitter ignored his ramblings, diving under the blanket with obvious intentions...
“Mister Moon Shine!” - Moon spun on his heels as he heard the voice calling out for him; it was Dean Cadance, and she was pretty desperate about something.
“Yes, ma'am – can I help you?” - he inquired curtly upon coming up to the lady.
“I hope so.” - she panted, trying to catch her breath. - “I was dragging this from the basement, and it appears to be stuck. Looks like I need some manpower...” - she halfheartedly kicked the wooden box, that sat in the door case, flicking the stray lock of her colourful hair away.
“Ma'am, you should've asked someone for help; fine ladies like you shan't exert themselves over weight lifting and hauling boxes...” - scolded Moon softly, grabbing at the handle and pulling the box easily away. - “Where do you want it to go?”
“Oh – thank you kindly...” - Cadance blinked, surprised. - “Uh – could you please get it to the main stage? I believe it's out in the school grounds.”
“Main stage... Got it.” - nodded Shine, hauling the crate onto his shoulder, grunting with surprise of how heavy that appeared to be. - “Please, ma'am – proceed, I'll follow you.” - Catching another amused stare from the dean, he explained himself:
“If things go awry, you'd have a room to evade the avalanche”.
“Oh! Sure. Thank you, mister Moon.”
“Please, ma'am. Call me 'Moon' or 'Shine'.” - smirked the man, enjoying the perfect sight of Cadance's swaying hips and slightly bouncing bottom.
Dayum boi, u sure hit the motherlode of them fine ladies here, whistled 'conscience' and Moon couldn't help but agree.
Following the lead of a magnificent derrier in front of his eyes, Moon Shine grinned his way all through the campus and to the main stage, setting the crate down in front of the railing:
“There you go, ma'am; need any help?”
“No, I'll take it from here...” - she gestured to a group of Crystal Prep students, who darted to the crate and pried it open, producing mics and a whole flurry of wires, jacks and connectors. - “Thank you, mis... Moon.” - she nodded gracefully. - “Your help was truly priceless.”
“My pleasure, ma'am.” - he replied with a curt bow, hiding a coy grin. - “You are a true pleasure to be around.” - and that wasn't even a bit of a lie in the statement.
“Okay people, concert is due in two weeks; I trust everyone's got their individual performances straight up and ready?” - blowing through the chanter of a bagpipe in his hands, Moon addressed members of Aurora Borealis, all gathered under a great banner, provided by conjoined effort of Pinkie Pie and Rarity. - “Let's run it again. From the beginning. One, two, three, go, Pinkie!” - the party girl clicked the rhytm with her drumsticks and began drumming. - “Snowflake!” - the hulking albino guy gingerly lifted the bow, looking obscenely small across his large frame, and began playing in short, stabbing motions, eliciting ragged, moaning sounds from his violin. - “Good! Octavia?” - the cellist girl joined flawlessly, adding long, tender tunes to the weaving melody. - “Awesome! Rainbow, Flash – now!” - the guitarists revved up in unison, fingers dancing across the fingerboards, mediators trembling with energy in their fingertips. - “Rarity?” - the keytar chimed in, adding spice to the melody, and Moon braced for his entry. - “Aaand here I come.” - fingers went flying over the holes of the chanter pipe, and a gentle squeeze to the bagpipe completed the melody twining; it was classical Danse Macabre, rearranged perfectly to such diverse orchestra.
Once the first melody was finished and Moon caught his breath, he became painfully aware of the fact that they all were being rewarded with an applauses and cheers; bolting backwards, bagpipe still slung across his frame, he quickly noticed both Celestia and Luna on the spectators' seats, cheering, applauding and whistling joyously at them; he also caught a glimpse of maroon upwards from their position. Cheerilee.
Bowing to the audience, Aurora Borealis proceeded with their next part: a Swan Pond.
“Okay, people. Snowflake, you kick in first. Then, Bon-Bon – you're on a flute. Octavia, Pinkie, Dash, Sentry – brace for entry. Sunset, you're on the rhytm. Applejack, I want some bass backup on that. And one, and two, and three!..” - and the eruption of sound flooded the gym, washing over everything like a thunderous tidewave...
...”And I thought classics were overrated and boring...” - Luna chuckled to her sister, once the rehearsal was over, leaving the gym. - “Now I'm convinced it is not.”
“It's all about the arrangement...” - Celestia smiled knowingly, as Moon dismissed the students.
“Bravo, maestro – bravo!” - smiled Cheerilee, embracing the man softly. - “That was... something...”
“I'm glad you liked it.” - smiled Moon cheerfully. - “We were doing our best. Guys are really putting all they've got in it. Just wait till you see us rocking the audience.”
“I can't wait.” - Moon basked in the glow of her gorgeous green eyes. - “You're done for the day?”
“Yup, I guess. You have something in mind?” - creasing a brow at the strange inquire, Moon speculated.
Cheerilee smiled sheepishly, reaching for Moon's hand and placing it gingerly south of her waist:
“I might have something...”
Boi, u better brace for it, 'conscience' smirked, cuz tis not gunna be pretty.
And boy was it right...
Three days past, Moon suddenly pondered during lunch, sitting in the cafeteria, that he hadn't received any beeps from his mysterious employer, the A.B.; taking another bite of an apple, he reached for the pager, checking the received messages, restarting the device. It seemed to be in perfect working order, and he chuckled silently, toying with the idea that everything might just turn out well; his 'issues' with Cheerilee were straightening themselves, repairs in her burnt house going full-throttle (he even paid the workers a visit), Aurora Borealis running smoothly like a well-oiled mechanism, the Crystal Prep students rehearsing with their choir repertoire, Flitter kept shooting a loving gazes at him, and all the bruises and scratches and bites healing well; it looked like as if his life was finally taking a steady grounds, without swaying back and forth in a random fashion, like a pendulum gone mad.
“I could actually grow to like it.” - he concluded, chewing on the apple core and spitting away the seeds.
“Oh my, someone sure seems hungry...” - a soft voice rang out by his ear, and Moon darted his head towards the source, still chewing thoroughly; Fluttershy blushed hard, her eyes wide with shock:
“I'm – I'm so sorry, mister Moon, sir... I... I just...” - with a startled eep, she obviously made an attempt to flee, if Shine wouldn't have stopped her:
“Fluttershy, wait. Why don't you seat at my table? The place looks pretty crammed, and I doubt you'd find any room for yourself fast enough as to finish the lunch without rushing it. And I can tell that rushing in terms of food ends up in indigestion.” - he smiled encouragingly, inviting the pink-haired scaredy cat to join him.
After some hesitation, the girl accepted his offer, still blushing furiously; she placed her tray on the table and sat stock still, hunching her back and shoulders and cloaking herself in her long hair curtain.
“Hey, don't be like that. I don't bite – I'm full for now...” - chuckled Moon. - “And don't worry about that little comment of yours; I think, in fact, it's pretty sweet – the way you did it. It colors you as a caring and a gentle person. Tis a rare trait.”
“You really think so, sir?..” - whispered the girl, peeking from behind her makeshift cover. - “Umm... thank you... You appear to be a good person, too...”
“Why thank you.” - smiled Shine, picking up his tray. - “Now, I gotta go, sorry. And you better eat, if you don't want to be late for your next class. Buon appetite~”.
“Thank you.” - Fluttershy smiled openly, proceeding to eating and sneaking pieces of vegetables down her backpack every now and then; Moon presumed there was another pet – probably a bunny, and chuckled at the memory of one of rehearsals, when snow-white rodent escaped Fluttershy's backpack and skipped all the way to Pinkie's drum machine, jumping onto the main drum and drumming his foot against the barrel, obviously enjoying himself.
Of course, the rehearsal wasn't stopped and it kept going with an extra drummer. After the rehearsal was done with and Moon dismissed the class, he asked Fluttershy to stay for a second; she obliged, wincing as if he was about to pounce at her madly, hugging the bunny close to her.
“What's your name, little fellow?” - Moon asked, stroking the bunny behind the ears; he was cautious at first, but then relaxed, twitching his long protruding ear slightly.
“The name's Angel, sir... Angel Bunny...” - replied Fluttershy, sporting an uneasy look on her face: she wasn't sure if the Moon was about to penalty her for bringing a pet into a class, or...
“That's a great drummer you are, mister Angel; aye, I say, a natural one!” - praised the man, scratching the furball behind the ears. - “Great job you did here; mayhap, I should offer you to join our little project? I could get you a tumtum...” - of course, the little rodent never responded, and Moon looked at Fluttershy, chuckling. - “That's a nice little one you have here, miss Fluttershy. However, I fear that the school doesn't have a pet friendly policy, so I suggest you to keep a good eye on the little guy; if he gets away again, you might get in trouble, and this would not be nice, would it?”
“You're... not going to punish me for doing so?..” - Fluttershy was dumbstruck, hugging Angel close, as if the Moon was about to rip the bunny of her hands and devour it raw before her very eyes. - “Really?..”
“Of course not. I absolutely love the little fellow, and I just don't want you to get in trouble over such adorable creature.”
“Um...”
“You're free to go, miss Fluttershy – wish you best of luck. And take care there.” - Moon stepped aside, smiling encouragingly. - “And good luck to you, Angel, sir. Hope to see more of you.”
Fluttershy beamed him a smile, quickly grabbed her backpack, putting Angel inside, and rocketed away from the gym.
Chuckling as the memory floated by, Moon dumped the rubbish from his tray into the can, putting the tray to the stand and checked the time: he still had a small breather before the next class, and he intended to use it for a quick smoke.
Said meant done, usually, and so, sneaking around the corners, Moon poked his head from behind the corner to check on the presence of see-all hall monitors or, Gog forbid, Vice Principle Luna. He recalled their first meeting and shuddered at the thought that, even in spite of her amicable attitude, Luna clearly gave out the idea that she's not the type one would like to mess with. Feeling like a junior high student sneaking in the school grounds, hustling behind the bushes for a smoke, he lit the cigarette, pulling in quick and deep, feeling the nicotine seep in treacherously.
As if recalling something, he reached for his pocket, checking the beeper; it was perfectly silent.
“Might be it that the stuff ran out of memory?..” - he murmured, fiddling with the buttons; finally, he managed to display a menu and scrolled through it, locating the entry he needed:
“Memory: 12 slots occupied; 188 slots available” - read the notification. Moon furrowed the brow, pulling another deep drag. Could it be connection failure? No, it seemed perfectly fine – he texted himself, and the message popped up immediately; sighing, he texted once more, relaying his message through the beeper:
“Sent anything? Received none; concerned.” - and hit the 'Send' tile; tisking at the sight, Shine smoked down, stomping the butt down and turning to head away, when the beeper came to life:
“Sent none. The seed is planted, await blossom. Good job. A. Borealis” - the hint on deciphering the riddle of his employer's initials made Shine's jaw drop, pieces of puzzle all putting together:
“F-f-f-fook me...” - he whistled, leaning against the wall.
“Is that an invitation?..” - asked Flitter out of the blue, winking playfully at him, making him start with shock. - “Hey handsome. Sneaking out for a smoke?”
“Y-yeah, kind of... Hello, by the way...” - regaining a slight semblance of self-control, stuttered Moon. - “And you're here for?..”
“Well, I was checking on my students. They look perfectly fine, and then I just ran a couple of exercises for your students.” - fluttering her eyelashes, Flitter put her hands on her hips, enunciating the curves. - “And I might as well be looking for you, naughty boy.”
“Well, good – eh, look at the time, I'd better be going now. Can't miss the class, you know...” - trying to keep the facade, Moon flashed a wide smile at the lady and retreated as fast as etiquette could allow; he certainly felt where the wind was blowing, and, honestly, he also felt he wouldn't make it for round two with this lynx.
Not now, anyway.
The bell rang, indicating the end of the lesson – and the end of the day for Moon Shine; dismissing his students for the umpteenth time this day around, he glanced at the clock, hanging right above the door: four o'clock.
“Almost tea time...” - he chuckled, locking the classroom door and handing the key over to the janitor – junky-looking tall, lanky fellow with an unkempt goatee and mismatching eyes: one was light-blue, like a shard of ice, and the other was of that queer, spooky shade of yellowish-green; Moon recalled knowing a guy with eyes like that, calling it 'feline eyes'; however, he was farsighted, poor fellow, and kept stumbling over various small things like doors, buckets and benches; the alternative of wearing contacts or glasses he despised utterly, not even honoring it with a comment.
“Leavin' already, sir? Care for a cup of tea, maybe?..” - purred the janitor guy – 'Discord' was his nickname, for all Moon'd known; no one actually knew his real name or cared for it; Moon wondered silently if the “Discord” was put in the paychecks he was being given. Or was he being paid in cold cash?..
“No, thanks, mate – I gotta go. I have a meeting to attend to.” - Moon refused politely.
“Ooh, a meeting, you say... One with a lovely lady, if I might say that?..” - the janitor chuckled darkly. - “The very certain green-eyed maroon-haired lady?..”
“Whatever your implications are, my good man, they are wrong, fortunately.” - Moon replied, adding a measured dose of stern in his voice. - “Alas, I should bid you farewell. Best of luck!” - his retreat path, however, was pretty abruptly blocked with an opened door of an appliances room. How it the hell did he moved that fast with that trolley of his?, pondered Moon, recalling only the certain poofy-haired hyperactive girl to be so negligently defying the laws of physics before.
“Oh, I am so, so sorry for my rudeness...” - clucked the janitor, tossing his mops and buckets negligently into the locker. - “How indignyfying of me, to snoop around like a creep...” - he was obviously enjoying himself jeering.
“Uh, my good man – I can't help but notice the... well, a certain disorder in your appliances...” - noted Moon, sneaking a peek into the locker. - “How is it possible to find anything in that mess?”
“Oh, sir, you know – there's a wise saying: 'Only the fool needs an order – genius governs over the chaos',” - chuckled Discord. - “and it kind of tickles my pride to be considered a genius I am!”
“I never even doubted that.” - politely smiled Moon Shine, feeling pretty amused with this harmless guy with a couple of loose screws. - “So, till later, then!”
“Remember me to Miss Cheerilee!” - the janitor shouted out, letting out a cackle; Moon shook off the remark, dialing a number, as he was stepping away from the school's entrance:
“Hey, Rungo, me man! Can you talk?”
“What's it now, cap'n? Break and entering? Kidnapping? Espionage? What do you need me for now?” - his friend sighed.
“Eh, chill, mate – remember the beer I've promised?” - Moon smiled, producing a cigarette. - “So, meet me in thirty at the Berry Punch's pub. And if you're late, first drink's on you.”
“Deal.” - Rungo hung up, and Moon, whistling a cheerful tune, rushed to the bus stop to catch a ride...
...”Naw, maet – here meh out...” - Moon slurred, moving the empty beer mug aside; both men were already pretty tipsy, to be charitable - judging by the amount of empty mugs in front of them – it was easily a dozen. - “Ah maen... mean... duh, see, ah gut dat one from the lady!! U no, the one sizzling hot chick there, eh!”
“Kant see tha problem ere, cap'n...” - hiccuped Rungo, wiping his bald head with his palm. - “Tis might be liek she gut one of them lass' tantrums, like, ahdunno, she mighta saw some other gurl goin out with er man or anyfin...”
“Nay, mate – ahm telling ya, this one is serious! Kinda big, mesay...” - Moon whispered cryptically, trying to chug from an empty mug. - “fook... oi, sweetheart! Repeat for us! Two more!” - he shook the empty mug as is it was a battle banner.
“There, sir...” - the waiter beamed them a smile. - “Can I get you anything else with that?”
“U wunna sumfin, maet? On me.” - Shine turned to Rungo, and the bald man slid his jaw forward quizzically:
“Eh, ahguess... how 'bout smoked kipper, er?”
“Copy! Make it a smokin' kipper, honey – and be a dear to do it fast. Beer's gutta be cold, and chow's gutta be hot...” - Moon winked at the waitress, slapping a handful of bits on the table. - “And this 'ere's a lil' sumfin t' get dat cute booty o'yers move faster, eh?”
“One smoked kipper, coming right up!” - bubbled the waitress, scooping the coins in one fluid motion. - “Be right back, gentlemen!”
“An' make it a bill too, sweetheart!” - roared Rungo, hiccuping.
“So, where wuz ah? Aw, yeah... Kinda big it is, u follow?”
“'f twasn't big, she woulda just toss some toilet paper o'er them houses hersself...” - Rungo muttered wistfully. - “...or just hired some college students ta do so... Cuz we're ain't haul'n th' gogdamn pipifax...” - the plate of smoked kipper landed in the centre of the table, and the small leatherbound folder was placed near Moon:
“There you go, gentlemen...” - chirped the waitress, batting her lashes at the two men; Moon stole a quick glance at the sum in the bill and plopped a generous pouch atop the folder:
“Keep the change, beaut – tis are the tips. Go get yurself an ice cream and whatnot...” - he waved a hand at her generously, but such complicated motion almost knocked him off the balance, to the verge of flying off the tall bar stool; however, Rungo managed to catch the flailing extremity of his former superior and pull him back to the stable stance:
“U saved me lief, mate!!” - exclaimed Moon, eyes wide. - “C'mere, you old fool – I'll fookin kiss ya in yer baldy noggin!”
“Eh, I think ah'll pass on that, cap...” - Rungo waved off, taking a tall drink of beer. - “Beer's getting warm; mesay, u better get to it.”...
...Moon Shine woke up for the sharp, burning rays of sun, filtering in through the blinds; it caressed the shoulder of sleeping Cheerilee with its gentle, warm fingers, danced around in the locks of her hair – and he felt terrible hangover; dizziness overcoming all other senses, and the floor seemed to rock as the ship deck during storm, so he had to catch for the wardrobe to maintain his balance.
“Never ever again am I drinking beer with Rungo...” - he muttered, stumbling towards the kitchen and gazing wearily towards the kitchen clock: eight in the morning.
“Oh wow, I'm early, you Excellence; guess that makes me an early bird...” - Moon declared, addressing the Grey Cardinal and reaching into the fridge for some mineral water; his throat felt like a desert, swiped with the hot winds of alcohol exhausts, and the tongue felt much like woolen mitten; decapitating the bottle with one spin, the man gulped down greedily, relishing in the blissful chill of the fizzy torrent, washing all over his dry larynx and streaming down, filling the chest with satisfying coolness; ending the whole bottle in one desperate bottoms-up, he exhaled loudly, smacking his lips a couple of times, smiling blissfully at the feeling of dissipating vertigo; weighing all his options, he concluded his best to get the day started, rather then clamber back in bed and cuddle with Cheerilee; however, the temptation was strong... Warm, soft, tender Cheerilee, she would stir in her sleep and cuddle closer to him, gently snoring, she'd tuck her head into his chest, embraced tightly by her dreams... Ummm, what a treat for a long-lonely gentleman...
However, Moon shook off the tempting pictures in his mind and reached for his pants, just in case; if there was any emergency, he'd not be caught with his pants off, that's for sure. Consider making it your motto, sneered 'conscience', 'Thou willst not catch me with me britches down!'.
Meh, he mused, too tacky. He was rummaging through the small stacks of clothes in the shelves of his wardrobe, until he found his very favourite piece: a rather baggy ochre-yellow T-shirt with a peculiar print: it depicted a big jackdaw, sporting a stunt helmet, aviator's can goggles and a parachute pack, and the caption below read 'Safety First'.
“Now this is more fitting...” - declared Moon, referencing both the garment and the words on it as regarded to his hypothetical motto; as he was about to head towards bathroom for a morning hygienic routine, a gentle knock on the door stopped him dead; cautiously approaching the door, he inquired who was there, blaming himself for the slacking in terms of installing at least a spy hole.
“Is mister Moon Shine here?” - a familiar voice with a slight accent rang from behind. A feminine one. - “It's Rarity Belle, his student!”
Ohmai, boi – ur gunna do Raritee?, jeered the 'conscience'. Cuz what's the other reason she'd run by your door – 'seeking for a washroom'?
Moon opened the door, praising himself for his wisdom as to put on at least a decent set of home wear garments, rather than rushing around the place now in a desperate search of at least a bathrobe not to disgrace himself as presenting au naturel:
“Morning, miss Belle – you sure are an early bird. How can I help you?”
“Why, mister Moon – I brought you the ensemble I've tailored especially for you for the case of our big day!” - chirped the faschionista, a coat case dangling on its hook from her palm. - “Dare I say that it'll be marvelous on you...” - she stopped short, finally noticing the Moon's rather disheveled exterior: bloodshot eyes, faint-but-still-noticeable alcohol exhaust in his breath, stubble – and a fancy T-shirt with a safety-conscious jackdaw. Smooth, grinned the 'conscience'.
“Eh... Am I interrupting something, sir?..” - she poked carefully. - “I may come by later, shall you please, or you might just visit my boutique...”
“Oh, it's totally fine, miss Belle!” - Moon quickly assured, desperately trying to straighten at least his hair. - “I just had a... good party last night. It's so sweet of you to come to me in person as to hand over that wonderful creation of yours, I am much obliged... By the way, what do I owe you?..”
“Oh, darling!' - Rarity threw herself back in astonishment. - “Of course it's no charge! How could you possibly think of such... mauvais tone?!” - she scoffed, obviously struck at the soft spot.
“Oh... I apologize, miss Belle; I didn't quite thought it over. No offence meant, really... I so beg your pardon...” - Moon's almost-earnest crestfallen face seemingly soothed Rarity's outburst, and she nodded graciously:
“Your apologies are accepted, fine sir; granted that you're new to our school, I suppose you haven't quite came to know any of us enough... I, in turn, also apologize for such... harsh reaction. No offence.” - she batted her long eyelashes at Moon, making puppy eyes.
“None taken, of course. Please, miss Rarity – come in! Tea, coffee, maybe?..” - the man invited, mentally scolding himself for clumsiness.
“Oh, many thanks, darling, but I fear I shall reject your generous offer.” - Rarity replied, stepping inside. - “Say, I humbly suppose that you should try your garment on – no, I positively insist on you doing so! This way I could see if there was anything in need of refinement!” - she handed Moon the envelope, and practically pushed him away.
Obediently, he retreated to the bedroom, unwrapping the unexpected present: it was a classical, brand-new tuxedo, tailored with precision and attention to the details; he quickly threw it on, clasping the enclosed belt tight and tying the bowtie; this done, Moon stepped to the mirror and spun around, looking at himself from every angle.
The attire was perfect; it fit him like a glove, making Moon Shine, the ex-mercenary and a present con artist with some sick luck with ladies, look like a refined gentleman of a noble lineage.
“Miss Belle, you're a magician, I say...” - he shook his head in amazement, presenting his tuxedo-packed self to Rarity, who gasped at sight:
“Why, sir – you look fabulous! I could not even fathom such a favorable outcome!”
“The praise is all yours, milady – I bow to your craft.” - replied Moon wholeheartedly, giving the faschionista a curt bow, making her squeal and applaud shortly with excitement:
“Now, sir, may I ask you to stand still and raise your hands sideways? I must see how it is fitting!” - commanded Rarity, producing a fancy red glasses and putting them on her nose. Moon obeyed the order, standing stock still as the young lady circled around him, straightening the wrinkles she only could've see and wiping away the specks of dust only she could feel.
“It's perfect!” - she announced, bubbling with excitement. - “Oh, what a relief! I feared this ensemble would never come out as it should since I never got to measure you properly!”
“eh...” - Moon Shine bleated miserably, fearing even to fathom how did Rarity managed to whip up a perfectly fitting suit without measuring him, as the girl kept on rambling, the volume of drama increasing:
“...and since I could always trust my eyes, I've concluded the measurements roughly, risking my reputation!! Oh, what a joy it is – to see the gratitude for the fruits of one's toil!..” - she darted a stare at Moon, pause growing awkward.
“Miss Belle, I'm astonished with the amount of skill and generosity you're presenting as of now... I am speechless, truly am!” - muttered Shine. - “It is truly a feat of you – running such lenghts as to make sure I will look properly at the concert. I've never seen such devotion before, Miss Belle...”
“Oh, it's nothing, darling...” - she retorted with a generous wave of hand, slightly blushing with praise. - “I still have to have all members of Aurora Borealis in my boutique so that I could see if their ensembles fit them as well as your does!”
“All... members?..” - Shine stuttered, feeling his knees grow weak.
“Why of course! I cannot allow my friends – my peers – to disgrace themselves, committing a crime of fashion as severe as being underdressed for such grand occasion! However, with them it was much easier, as they were kind enough to let me have their measures...” - Rarity let out a small giggle. - “Oh! And that reminds me!” - she dives into her bag, rustles around for a moment and produces another envelope:
“Please, mister Moon, be a dear and pass over to Miss Cheerilee this little souvenir from me; I humbly supposed she'd like to attend the concert as well, and I surely cannot allow such a lovely lady to appear not as stunning as she is!” - the tailor girl rolled her eyes. - “Do me a favor, please – and let Miss Cheerilee know that she should positively not put that on until the day of the concert! It'll be a surprise for you, mister Moon...” - she lilted, giving out a sly wink.
“Duly noted...” - stuttered the man, holding the brown paper envelope as gingerly as if it was full of delicate chinaware. - “I'll see to it fir sure, miss Belle. I just cannot thank you enough, I fear...”
“Oh my goodness gracious, look at the time!!” - gasped Rarity, grabbing her bag. - “I must've been at the boutique five minutes ago!! Oh my!!”
“Should I...” - started Moon, as Rarity dashed away, crying out: “Taxi!!”; the cab pulled over immediately, and, boarding the yellow vehicle, Rarity lingered for a second, shouting: “Have a marvelous day, mister Moon!” - and blowing him a kiss; the door closed, engine roared, and Rarity was gone for good, leaving the befuddled gentleman on the threshold of his house, holding an envelope.
Half an hour later, when Moon hung his concert attire in the wardrobe and finally proceeded with the morning routine – shaving, washing and whatnot – he was brewing coffee and patching up some light breakfast for two; Cheerilee still seemed to be asleep.
“Pretty much tucked out, poor thing...” - he sighed to himself, humming a cheerful, though sticky tune he had heard once.
“Morning...” - came a sleepy voice from the bedroom, and Moon grinned, filtering the freshly brewed coffee through the sieve into the two cups:
“Breakfast incoming in sixty! Hold your ground!” - putting the spread on the tray, he headed for bedroom, grinning widely as Cheerilee sat up in bed, smiling sleepily, letting out a small yawn:
“Morning, Shiny... Wow, that's a spread.”
“Yep. One breakfast in bed for a lovely lady of beauty and smarts...” - reported Moon, setting the tray onto the bed. - “How's the land of Morpheus?”
“As usual – weird and vivid...” - she laughed. - “You're early; I thought you'd sleep till noon – judging by how wasted you were yesterday...”
“Guilty as charged,” - sighed Moon. - “ran into an old friend of mine; hoped to get away easily, but no, of course not – and the innocent 'two beer, please' transformed into 'oi, mate – let's paint the town red!!', hence the wasted-ness...”.
“Yeah, old friends...” - Cheerilee sighed, putting the tray aside. - “So, how's the morning? I can definitely smell the good aftershave and some tomato juice. That hallmark pick-me-up of yours?”
“Oh, I'm glad you've asked...” - Moon grinned coyly, presenting Cheerilee the envelope. - “Hut! Don't open it just yet, or Rarity will have my head on a stake.”
“Rarity?”
“Yup. That's the fun part, really – once I was up and heading to hit the showers, Rarity showed up and presented me with a freakin' badass tuxedo, motivating that I had to look properly for the concert... But the best here is she had made it by the rule of thumb, from scratch! I mean, she caught all the measurements right by the rule of thumb...” - recalling that weird part, Moon scratched the back of his head in befuddlement. - “I can't believe it.”
“Well, if you've known Rarity as long as I do...” - chuckled Cheerilee. - “She might be a drama queen and sometimes a real pain in the neck, but she's a wonderful person, heart of gold, and genuinely generous.”
“I can say! Any tailor would've charged me a fortune for a tuxedo like this, and she just kinda... shrugged it off, like it was nothing...”
“Yup, that's Rarity for you...” - sighed Cheerilee. - “And what's with this?”
“She left a very specific instructions on that part: she said to give it to you and avoid seeing you wearing this at all costs until the day of concert; guess she's up to something...”
“Well, yes, one of Rarity's most notable features is her talent for seeking gossip...” - shrugged Cheerilee. - “But she's a proper lady, so she's not the one to kiss and tell. If she knows something – and I bet she does – she'll keep it to herself. Or spread to Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie and Sunset Shimmer tops. And neither of them are the mad gossip ships, so...” - the teacher lady ran her fingers over the twine knot, holding the envelope together, and a coy smile crept up her face:
“Say, Shine – did you notice something... different about me?..” - pulling the blanket down, she leaned in a tempting pose.
“Er...” - gulped the man, darting his eyes all over the sight presented; something was off, obviously – but, as it usual is, the difference was so obvious and subtle he couldn't just put a finger on it.
“Okay, here's the hint...” - cooed Cheerilee, letting one strap of her night gown slide down delicately.
Night gown!!, flashed in Moon's mind, as he was observing, awestruck, the way that fine cloth cascaded down the lady's frame, outlining every curve of her delicate body in a way that gave him the shivers, rocketing from the top of his neck down the spine.
“You like?..” - the schoolmarm purred seductively. Moon was so dumbstruck he could just nod; the not-just-transparent weave was just running him crazy.
“Good...” - the lady licked her lips, giving the awestruck man a lidded look. - “Come here. I kind of missed you...” - throwing her arms over his neck and pulling him down, Cheerilee smirked triumphantly as Moon's lips found the tender skin of her neck, giving it light kisses and nibbles, rewarded with a soft moans of pleasure.
“Cheerilee, the coffee'll grow cold.”
“Do I look like I mind?..”...
As the D-Day was approaching, the subtle tension, lingering in the atmosphere of Canterlot High only got more dense by the day; Aurora Borealis, the home-grown conceptual orchestra, were doing their best in rehearsals, Rainbooms were tearing the strings and fingers apart practicing, and even Snowflake was unusually quiet, resorting to the normal humane volume of voice rather than the exaspirated bellow he usually executed. The concert itself was due tomorrow.
Moon Shine, however, was perfectly content, reviewing the events of the past week: two wonderful days after Rarity's visit, he took Cheerilee out for a date, brewing a sly plan of his; the lady enjoyed herself, while Shine was striving to muster enough courage to utter what he had in mind.
Eventually, he succeeded, and harrumphed quietly, laying his hand over Cheerilee's:
“Er – Cheers... I've got something I need to talk to you about...”
“Of course.” - the lady beamed at him. - “What's it, Shiny?”
“I was thinking... You know...” - he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, presented to the thrilled and excited Cheerilee in front of him; she was obviously expecting something... - “Well, you see – we're together for, well, not-so-long, but I think I might have a... dayum. I think I want to ask of you to move to my place, Cheerilee. Permanently.” - he finally declared, looking the lady square in the eyes. - “Yes. And I might also have another idea, but that's not the subject matter as of now.”
“Of course I accept your offer... and the other one...” - Cheerilee smiled softly at him, caressing his trembling palm tenderly. - “And guess what – I was going to ask the same of you, but... I kind of just chickened out.”
“Well, good thing I didn't...” - chuckled Moon, feeling elated at the sense of knot undone in his chest. - “Cause I believe this might've linger.”
Cheerilee playfully poked him under the table:
“Don't get too cheeky!”
“My bad, ma'am; I deserve a detention...” - he grimaced, pouting and making puppy eyes. - “Would you make me write lines?..”
“I have something more... educating in mind.” - Cheerilee chuckled, a dangerous fire blinking in her eyes. - “You'll see.”
Shiver in anticipation, boi.
Smiling at the memory of that evening – and what followed – Shine made his way through the halls, heading for the Principle's office; he had no formal assignment there, but ten minutes prior his beeper buzzed, receiving a message:
“The sown seed bore blossom; come see me. Aurora Borealis”.
All the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle clicked into place, and Moon boomed with laughter, earning a startled gazes from the involuntarily audience; he straightened up, wiped a tear and mustered an excuse, sneaking away for a quick smoke to pacify his wrecked nerve.
Now, he knocked on the door to the Principle's office, straightening his posture as not to give out any hints of what he had learnt about the not-so-little and not-so-harmless mischief of the dignified lady.
“Come in.” - came from inside, and Moon practically marched inside.
“Moon Shine, am I glad to see you...” - Celestia grinned, pulling down the blinds. - “Or should I call you 'Gaius Tiberius'?” - Moon didn't even twitched a brow at the sly comment. - “Lock the door and come take a seat. I have something you'd like to see.”
The man obliged, taking a seat in front of the desk and making himself comfortable. He chuckled:
“Aurora Borealis, huh? Smart move, ma'am...”
“Drop the formalities, Tiberius, call me 'Tia'.” - giggled the lady, throwing her long, flowing, northern-lights hair back. - “Let's not linger on the small facts; look here. I think you'll find it... amusing.” - she promised, tossing him a newspaper across the desk; Moon – Gaius Tiberius – caught it, unfolding; it was a fresh issue of 'The Herald', and the headlines read:
'Principle of Crystal Prep School: a dignified woman or an extorting boozehead?”.
“So?..” - he furrowed a brow, giving the grinning Celestia a bemused look.
“That's not just it. Turn to the page three...” - she winked, a nasty grin never escaping her fine features.
Tiberius did as he was told to, reading: 'Accident at the Annual Canterlot Gala: Fancy Pants going amok! Mayor drugging guests and striving for extra privileges?”
“Well, that's... mildly amusing.” - he admitted, scanning through the articles before handing the paper back to Celestia. - “But I can't see any direct reason behind this whole setup.”
“Meh, let's say I just had to get back on some people...” - the principle waved the question off nonchalantly. - “And you did it just wonderful. Now that this hag Cinche would have to explain herself to the Educational Commitee, Mayor will have to jump over her butt to maintain the office and Fancy Pants... Well, I don't know, might it be that you're a clairvoyant or was it just a gut guess, but this prick also deserved a nice slice of a humble pie.” - chuckling, Celestia popped a thumbs up at Tiberius. - “That was some great work.”
“It's just being professional.” - nodded Gaius. - “So, we're through as of now, I guess?”
“Almost.” - Celestia produced two folded notes. - “I need you to take this.”
“What's that?”
“Well, this one is from miss Flitter...” - Tia flashed a toothy grin at the slight shudder she had seen in Tiberius. - “And this one... well, I need you to do what is mentioned here and then report me on the details. For extra charge, of course – you're working extra.”
“Noted.” - Moon nodded, hiding the notes in his chest pocket. - “So, am I dismissed?”
“I won't hold you...” - purred the principle, positively basking in the sense of accomplishment. - “But wait, Tiberius – there's one more thing...”
“No spilling beans. Ma'am, I'm a pro at cons.”
“No, I never doubted your loyalty. Will you resume your position as the teacher? I might need your services in the future, and, well... you've been doing good for a lowlife criminal...” - she teased.
Tiberius stood still, quickly running the numbers. In four inhales, he had an answer:
“Yes, I will.”
“Marvelous...” - purred Celestia, leaning back in her armchair. - “So, dismissed, mister Moon Shine, and give my best to Miss Cheerilee.”
Gaius Tiberius/Moon Shine left the office, not even honouring Celestia with a comment.
“Thanks for the ride, my good man!” - he nodded to some strange gentleman who gave him a lift. Checking with the note he was given, Moon went up the stairs to the sturdy blackwood door, ringing a doorbell.
“Coming!” - came the muffled voice from inside the house, somehow making Moon's hair stand ot its ends. Something was oddly familiar about that there voice...
The door opened, revealing a long flowing mane of greenish-blue hair, huge green eyes...
Momma...
“Oh, isn't it the bite lover...” - chuckled Chrysalis, biting her lower lip and running a finger down dumbstruck Moon's chest. - “I was wondering if you'd come...”
“Beg pardon, there must've been a mistake...” - uttered Moon, grasping the only straw he had. - “I must've had the wrong address...”
“Oh no, big man – you've come just right...” - the lady promised ominously, grabbing hold at the Moon's shirt and yanking him inside with one fluid motion.
The door closed shut, and the silky voice of Chrysalis chimed in:
“And now for round two...”
FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUU...
Stumbling back home, finding Cheerilee sound asleep, Gaius Tiberius Lucian – the true name for “Moon Shine” - kicked off his boots and cringed at the feeling of soreness, overcoming his whole body; 'round two' was pretty intense – granted, thankfully, that no whips were included.
“She's not Celestia, Gogdamn it, she's some Trollestia...” - he grumbled, kicking the laptop alive and texting Celestia:
“Job's done. Never expected her to be there. Explain yourself.”
The beep chimed snidingly – or at least it appeared so to the Moon, who was fuming with anger:
“I couldn't help but notice from your previous reports that Chryssie had a special knack for you; and it's not good to leave the lady hanging. Besides, she's a good friend of mine.”
Tiberius' hands trembled hard: he felt waves of wrath washing over him, almost ready to flip his shit all over the place: that... that!.. fook.
He exhaled long and hard, scratching an itch; pouring himself a drink, he created a new e-mail blank and jotted down the extensive report to Trollestia, paying attention to small details so that the report resembled a pulp fiction romance novel; the feeling, hovewer, was cut short with a postscriptum that Moon put in, cackling ominously:
“P.S. Extra charge you've mentioned, make it double. For the trouble.”
Clicking the 'Send' icon, he downed the drink and hiccuped; it was already late at night, and he had a big – no, a HUGE day ahead of him. So, it was best to hit the shower and go asleep.
If only it was that easy – a clumsy stumble over the nightstand made Cheerilee open her eyes, bringing a carnivorous grin to her face...
Well, you've got into it yourself, boi, the 'conscience' sighed, endure! Prevail!!
...The concert was rolling full-throttle as of now; the Rainbooms positively rocked the audience, elicitng a thunderous barrage of cheers and applause; Snowflake's performance was also flawless, making Moon feel proud for the huge guy; Trixie and her band was also well-rewarded – 'Was there EVER any doubt?', huffed the girl – for all the stunts and effects, and then Sunset Shimmer, the announcer, stepped to the mic:
“Ladies and gentlemen, and now the Canterlot High School is proud to present you our very special guests – the Crystal Prep Academy choir and their conductor and mentor – Miss Flitter!” - earning a thunderous applause and cheers, that soon grew into whistles from the male part of audience, as Flitter glided on the scene.
Moon felt his heart sink and jaw drop, as he finally put the two and two together: Flitter was clad in a long flowing wine-red dress with a risky cut as high as the thigh runs, flashing her magnificent legs with each step, her hair done in intricate coiffure, neckline cut dangerously low, decorated with a topaz necklace, complimenting her amber eyes; the choir assembled on stage, all dressed in stunningly cool uniforms, bearing the school insignia; they performed the Gaudeamus Igitur flawlessly, then proceeding to something way more energetic and driving; Moon strived to gather his wits and pry his eyes away from the gorgeous lady conducting the choir, pondering if what he heard was In Taberna.
Once the choir was done and the participants all bowed to the well-earned praise and flying flowers, Sunset stepped up again:
“And now, ladies and gentlemen – to conclude our evening and for your joy and amazement, we give you Aurora Borealis, the experiment orchestra of Canterlot High, assembled, directed and inspired by mister Moon Shine! Greet them nicely!” - abandoning the mic, the girl scurried backstage, slinging the guitar over her shoulder.
Moon, in turn, straightened the bowtie on his neck and slung on his bagpipe, checking the drones and mouthpiece; he scanned his band – everyone was looking stunning. Rarity did an outstanding job prepairing the costumes: ladies were donning a wonderful formal dresses and gentlemen were all clad in tuxedos, and the design of every single ensemble was unique.
He drew a deep breath, smiled encouragingly to his gang and waved forwards, leading the way; the stage welcomed them with a tidewave of whistles, thunderous applauses and cheers, as Moon bowed to audience and grabbed hold of the mic:
“This thing on?.. Well, good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Moon Shine and I am most pleased to see all of you attend to this our little gig of ours. I hope you...” - he trailed off abruptly, as his wandering gaze caught a thing of pure beauty in the front row.
Who was this stunning lady, clad in wonderfully crafted gown? The flowing green cloth complimented her eyes, sparkling like diamonds in the stage lights, her curly hair styled in simple, yet perfectly suiting coiffure... Wait... Cheerilee?!
Oh my.., stuttered the 'conscience', that sure is a surprise.
“Ahem...” - he finally overcame the awe he was struck with. - “I hope you're enjoying yourselves, anyway. Let us begin!” - he abandoned the microphone, washed over in another wave of applause and nodded his band to begin.
Snowflake cut the lingering silence with bold, stabbing thrusts of bow against the strings, providing the steady rhythm to begin with; Octavia cut in perfectly, adding the tenderly moaning long tune to the weaving melody; Pinkie's timing was also perfect to cut in with a drum rhythms, and then the guitars came in, weaving an intricate, but perfectly recognizable melody; it flowed above the hypnotized audience, washing over the condensing twilight.
First piece was done immaculately, and Moon inhaled deeply, preparing for the next one; he grabbed the chanter of the bagpipe, starting with a subtle tone, to which then the flute kicked in, accompanied with bass line, the cello and the violin; the melody, ever so subtle at first, soon reached its guitar-revving crescendo, dropping like a tsunami tidewave at the awestruck audience, eliciting a booming cheer; the tambourine chimed neatly, allowing the keytar to step in with a perfect completion for the building flow. Swan Pond, arranged well, was now being rewarded.
Once the melody came to its end, Moon stepped up to the microphone and waited for the cheering and applauding to subside, grinning widely:
“And now, ladies and gentlemen – I suppose you better brace for it, 'cause my friends and I are gonna rock you hard. I give you...” - he intentionally let out an intriguing pause. - “A Morbid Tango! Please, show some love for my friends here on stage! They're the best!” - raising both his hands into the air, he felt overjoyed, riding the wave of triumph for a brief moment, as the audience was going over their heads.
“And now – let the rocking commence!!” - he bellowed, giving Octavia the sign to begin; the audience sat stock still, all eyes and ears.
The bold, powerful melody flew around, growing louder and louder, until reaching its booming crescendo, with guitars moaning, drums going mad and squealing flute; the bagpipe was singing in perfect harmony with the flow, providing a strong backbone for the melody.
Once the gentle rattle of the tambourine concluding the melody subsided, the audience just blew up: they were applauding standing, chanting the name of the orchestra, flowers were flying all over the place, piling up at the stage, as blushing participants kept bowing and curtsying to the audience; the madness kept on and on, as the night sky above the stage was being rocked with the repeating chants: “Au-ro-ra! Au-ro-ra! Au-ro-ra!..”...
“Oh gog... I love you guys...” - breathed Moon, sliding exhaustedly down the wall and lighting a cigarette, as the giddy orchestrants was just radiating triumph and joy around him. - “You really blew it up there. It was something nuclear, I'm telling you!”
“It was so AWESOME!!” - squealed Rainbow Dash, hopping in place. - “It's – like – surpassing every record of AWESOMENESS!!”
“We did it! We DID IT!!!” - skipped Sunset Shimmer, dragging Fluttershy into a tight hug. - “I love you, Fluttershy!”
“I love you too, Sunset.” - the pink-haired girl replied softly, returning a hug.
“YEAH!!! WE ROCK!!” - bellowed Snoflake, almost ripping his tuxedo to shreds by flexing his impressive musculature.
“Ah say, it wouldn't have ahappen if nawt fer mist'r Moon there...” - smiled Applejack, taking off her stetson. - “Ah guess we owe ya one, sir...”
“Oh, people, relax...” - he exhaled a puff of smoke. - “All of you contributed in this triumph – and I mean everyone. It was a real feat of everyone: Rarity and all this magnificent attires, Fluttershy overcame her stagefright, Octavia generously provided us with her time, taking it off her busy schedule... Heck, people – I love you. C'mere, bandits...” - he pulled all his students and friends into a massive group hug, cheering and hollering their joy.
“Congratulations, Aurora Borealis – you've really did an immaculate job...” - chuckled Principle Celestia, and Vice Principle Luna stepped forward with a bright smile:
“You really rocked our socks, if I may say that. It was... it was... fabulous. Congratulations! Celebrate your triumph. You've earned it.”
“Thank you, Principle! Thank you, Vice Principle, ma'am!” - all replied in unison, bursting into laughter as they did so. The sisters waited with a smile until the cheers subsided and Luna spoke up:
“I fear that we shall take mister Moon from you; he is being expected.”
“Expected? Who is expecting me?”
“Ladies,” - smirked Celestia. - “And it's unbefitting of a fine gentleman to keep a lady waiting.”
“Oh...” - Moon quickly raised to his feet, dusting off the tuxedo. - “Then I guess I'd better get going. You people are awesome. More than that. Have fun!”
As he was walking away, escorted by two gorgeous mademoiselles, he heard the boom of Pinkie:
“THIS CALLS FOR A HUGE PARTY!!!!!!”.
“How did she managed to bottle it for so long – what, five, six minutes?..” - he pondered out loud, earning a smirk from Celestia:
“That's just Pinkie Pie for you. Don't sweat it.”
“Oh, okay.”...
The ladies in question were the two most freaking heartstopping beaus he had ever laid eyes on: Cheerilee and Flitter.
Moon gulped down the lump in his throat, approaching the ladies:
“Buon soiree, mademoiselles. I trust you've had a good time?..” - plastering on a proper smile, he inquired, being enveloped in a joyful hug from Flitter; he froze at the feeling of her ample breasts squeezing against his chest:
“Good time?! You must be kidding! It was absolutely breathtaking!..” - she moaned into his ear, eliciting an uncomfortable twitch somewhere south of the solar plexus. - “It was simply... I can't even find the words!!”
“Well, I shall mention that the choir was simply divine...” - he managed to utter, trying to pry free from the grasp. - “I haven't heard anything so wonderful in ages! And it was a capella!”
“Yes...” - Flitter licked her lips, giving the man a bedroom look, making him panick and steal pleading glances at the Cheerilee: help!!
The schoolmarm, however, looked perfectly content with the fact that Moon was being harassed in the plain sight; instead of helping him off, she grinned smugly and approached him from the behind, swaying her hips seductively, embracing both from behind the Moon's back:
“Praise the hero of the day...” - she whispered into his ear, giving it a small nibble. - “That was outstanding...”
“Say, Cheerilee, if we must?..” - winked Flitter, slightly rubbing herself at Moon.
“I think so...” - Cheerilee grinned coyly, pressing her perky bosom into Moon's back; the man shivered in tension. You're sandwiched in between two breathtakingly beautiful damsels and you're still flipping yer dung about it?!, roared the 'conscience', be a MAN already!!
“Cheerilee?!” - he gazed back as much as he could, dumbstruck, earning a giggle:
“Why, silly, Flitter's my sister!”
“I got the looks, and Cheers got the wits...” - purred Flitter, planting a small kiss to the Moon's jaw. - “So, where was I?..”
“Our place or yours?” - smirked Cheerilee, coping a firm feel of Moon's rear; he winced at the surprise attack.
“You've always been such a naught, sister...”
“Everything for a family...” - grinned the schoolmarm, and the two hotties dragged the dumbstruck Gaius Tiberius Lucian, also known as Moon Shine, away from the scene...
“Guh, I simply cannot believe it...” - grunted Luna, closing the door and kicking her boots off in irritation. - “Tia! I'm home!”
“I'm in my study, sis! C'mere...” - came the reply from the depths of the house, and Luna grudgingly made her way to the defined destination.
What hit her as odd was that her the blinds were closed shut; Celestia always preferred her quarters to be flooded in bright light. Now it was dim and dusky.
“Oh, sis, good to have you here...” - cooed Celestia. - “Pass me an ashtray, be a dear?” - Luna was dumbstruck at the sight of her sister: her usually pristine, flowing hair were now unkempt, as if she just negligently sprung it up with both hands, and the fact that she was laying lazily in her armchair... with a glass of whiskey? Biting off the tip of a large Havana?!
“Tia?..” - Luna cautiosly inquired, passing a bronze-cast ashtray to her sister. - “You feeling alright, sister?”
“Why, I feel awesome...” - she giggled, lighting a cigar with a match and dragging deep. - “Can't a girl indulge to her small guilty pleasures?..”
“Why yes, but...” - Luna stopped abruptly, noticing that Celestia crossed her legs over one another at the armchair's arm post, feeling a familiar envious tingle at the sight of her sister's long, slim, alabaster-white legs; she had always envied how long and slender her sister's legs were, and the short silk bathrobe gave her quite a look.
Well, she herself wasn't much different in terms of physical fitness, but she was shorter than Celestia...
“Nevermind...” - Luna shook off the shock, returning to the more pressing matter. - “Tia! We need to talk!”
“Go ahead, little sis...” - purred the lady, taking a sip. - “What's on your mind?..”
“I just heard it from a grape vine that you've pulled an intricate scheme... All that concert, fundraising and stuff...” - Luna just choked at her righteous fury, as she had seen Celestia's smug grin. - “What for, sis?! What for?!”
“That was smart, wasn't it?” - the principle of CHS giggled, pulling deep on a cigar. - “Come on, sis, admit it!”
“Well, yes, but... wait.” - Luna raised a hand, milling what she had to say in her mind. - “Let's not ramble and get this straight: you pulled money from the school budget...”
“Exactly...”
“...to pay some fraud...”
“Technically, he's a veteran mercenary and a professional con artist...” - nodded Celestia, swirling the drink in her glass. - “But yeah, you caught the drift!”
“...so that he'd run some devious revenge plans of yours?!” - Luna fumed with anger and surprise.
“Guilty as charged.” - laughed Celestia. - “What? The fundraising went smooth!”
“Yes, I can't deny that – and I won't, but – Tia, isn't that a bit extreme?! I mean, getting back on Cinche is one think – I can't stand that hag, too, but Mayor? What has she ever done to you?!”
“There are some things I'd rather not speak about, Lulu...” - cooed Celestia. - “Let's say I've let sweet Cadence to try and stand in charge of the Crystal Preps; I'm sure she'd do nice, and also I've made Cinche eat a nice hot serving of a humble pie, so it's a win-win... And also I've had tons of fun, so make it triple win!”
“I... I just...” - stuttered Luna, dumbstruck at the scale of her sister's deviousness. - “I... I guess that explains why people sometimes dub you 'Trollestia'...” - she exhaled, drooping her head in defeat.
“That's exactly why I call the shots, dear sister...” - smirked Celestia, downing her drink in one swig.
