Finding Your Treason in the Everfree Overture of the Beholder
A warm fire crackled in the old hearth, sending flickers of light across the old manor. The occasional pop of the fire was loud and noticeable over the soft tones of Bethooften’s Second playing from the old phonograph. Shadows danced across the walls, illuminating countless old books—some family heirlooms, others nickel-and-dime shop pulp drivel. In the center of the expansive room sat a faded faux-leather chair facing the hearth. Even with the burning wood, the warm, musty scent of the swamps outside dominated the old manor, which brought a ghost of a smile to the pony seated. Other may bemoan the constant humidity of New Horseleans, but RIS Special Agent Agrostis Bentgrass wouldn’t have it any other way. A pale, slender hoof raised a brandy snifter to his nose. Twitching it slightly, the maroon liquid inside swirled around, and he inhaled softly, releasing a quiet sigh of contentment as he sipped.
The last few months had been hectic, to say the very least. As a senior agent in the secretive Division Six, he was no stranger to the strange. Even so, between ancient demons threatening the world and the sudden an inexplicable appearance of firearms in Equestria, followed by plots to use said new weapons to destroy Equestria, he had his hooves full… which wasn’t too hard to do because, well, he only has the two he could really use to hold anything.
It had been most trying; not only did he have to track down an entire mob organization, but the entire time he had to hold to hooves of those inept Skyfall ponies. Bentgrass couldn’t fight back a derisive snort at the thought of those bumbling ponies. The very moment he had set foot, er, hoof in their command room, they tried to impress him with tales of their supposed “missions.” To Bentgrass’ well-traveled and well-read mind, they sounded more like cliché pulp novels than military missions. A war with the Griffons that only lasted a week? Battling an armored mechapony in the Saddle Arabian desert? Time-locked zombies in the Everfree?! Bentgrass had to double check with Their Majesties that these ponies were in fact trained soldiers and not remnants of failed drug testing.
Still, it was all worth it, he thought with another grin as he threw back the rest of his port. Setting the empty chalice on the table, he turned his head to look towards the kitchen, his bat-like eye blinking sexily in the flicker light. “Darling, would you be so kind as to refill me?”
“Of course,” came a sultry voice. Yes, Bentgrass thought to himself, all the trials and tribulations of the past few months were more than worth the trade-off of seeing the sultry vixen that sauntered towards him, a silver plate bearing a glass of port balanced between her leathery wings.
Bentgrass smiled and plucked the glass from her back, his mismatched eyes following the sway of her flanks as she crossed towards the fireplace and set the tray down. “Thank you ever so kindly, love.”
Corporal Midnight Dasher, the one competent member of Skyfall team, smiled at her lover. “Never a problem, Benty.” Bentgrass gave a slight groan at the nickname, which only served to widen the bat pony’s grin. Before he could complain further, she spoke. “So, I heard that while I was back home visiting the Shades, you had some fun in Manehatten?”
Bentgrass nodded, taking a slow pull from his glass. “It would depend heavily on your definition of ‘fun,’ Ms. Dasher, but yes. Myself and my… partner,” he said with a slight groan, “Ms. Lulamoon, managed to track down and detain a vicious serial killer.”
Midnight’s golden eyes went a bit wider. “Wow, an honest-to-Luna serial killer?”
“Indeed. It was quite a case, wrought with danger, action, twists and turns. Truly a showdown of brains versus brawn between me and the local Diamond Dog mafia, and the whole thing culminated in quite an epic struggle that shall no doubt have long-standing repercussions in Equestria.”
With every word he spoke, Midnight’s grin grew wider still. “Oh, wow! So, tell me what happened!”
“Eh, maybe later… maybe.”
“Aww,” Midnight pouted. “Please?”
Bentgrass tapped a hoof to his chin. “Hmm… oh, very well. You see, Trixie and I first—“
CRASH!
Both bat pony and kinda-bat pony jumped up as the ornate window to the study exploded inward. Amidst the shards of glass, a blood-red Pegasus performed a combat roll into the room. Or, at least, he tried to. The stallion wore a mesh combat vest, a combat helmet, combat boots; a combat knife was strapped to his combat body armor that was filled with combat ballistic protection against combat rifles. All that equipment turned his combat roll into more of a combat fall.
Bentgrass and Midnight had leapt to their hooves, both primed and ready for a fight, but as one they groaned when they recognized the stallion. Bentgrass fell back into his chair with a huff. “Oh, bother. Not this again…”
“Midnight!” the stallion cried, flaring his wings.
“Hi, Fleety,” the bat pony said in a tone as tired and bored as she looked.
Fleethoof seemed not to notice. “I’ve come to… to… uh, wow.” He spun around several times, taking in the lavish study. “Bentgrass, you can afford this on a government salary?”
Bentgrass shrugged. “Family money.”
“Ah,” Fleethoof said with a nod. “Uh, from what?”
“My family, obviously.” Fleethoof nodded, but after several seconds, his face scrunched up in confusion. Before he could ask further, however, Bentgrass said, “Now… Captain, is there any particular reason why you have broken my window on this lovely evening? Don’t misunderstand, I do so love the bayou breeze, but it’s a bit excessive, even for you.”
“I’m not here for you, Agrostis,” Fleethoof said, his earlier confusion gone in an instant. He turned to face Midnight, who was in the middle of an epic eye-roll. Fleethoof seemed not to notice, storming over to her and kneeling. “Midnight, I’ve been a fool. I can see now that you are the one true love of my life!”
“Oh, Luna preserve me,” she muttered.
“Um, Fleethoof,” Bentgrass said, “aren’t you in a relationship already? With Princess Cadance?”
Fleethoof spun to face the dapper agent. As he did, the fire died from his eyes and his shoulders sagged. “She left me…”
“Oh. Well, chin up, old friend! There are plenty more mares out there! Why, how about Captain Armor’s little sister? I hear she’s quite the—“
“That’s who Cadance left me for.”
Midnight blinked. “Uh, what?”
Fleethoof nodded solemnly. “Yeah, they’re both lesbians now.”
“Still,” Bentgrass said, “I’m sure it can’t be that serious. After all, they’ve only been—“
“They’re having a baby.”
This time, Bentgrass gave the slow blink. “Um, what? The... the two mares are having a… how?!”
Fleethoof sniffled. “They… hugged.”
Midnight let out a sharp gasp. “Without protection?! Jeez, I thought a princess would have been more careful than that!” She let that sink in for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Well, even so, they can’t be the only mares out there! Why not ask Princess Luna? I’m sure she’s—“
“A lesbian.”
“Oh. W-well, why not one of Twilight’s friends? Maybe that rainbow one?”
“Lesbian.”
“The Apple one?”
“Lesbian with the rainbow one.”
“Uh… the pink one?”
“Their gimp.”
“Ah.”
“So, you see, Middy,” Fleethoof said, once more on bended knee before her, “You are the one true pairing for me… at least, the one true not-lesbian pairing for me!”
“Eh, sorry, Fleety, but that ship has sailed.” As she spoke, she sauntered over to the chair and threw a hoof around Bentgrass. “I’ve found me a real stallion!”
As Fleethoof watched in sickened-but-still-kinda-aroused horror, Midnight plopped herself down on Bentgrass’ lap, threw both arms around him, and engaged in the single hottest make-out session Fleet had ever seen, complete with moans, groans, copious amounts of tongue. Despite having hooves, Bentgrass managed several times to grab handfuls of Thestral flank, earning squeals of lust from the mare.
“Bentgrass!” Fleethoof yelled. “How… how could you?!”
“Sorry, old friend, but you had your shot.” Well, that’s what Bentgrass said. Unfortunately, due in large part to the bat pony tongue being shoved down his throat, all Fleethoof heard was, “Murphle-wurphle-blurg-hnnggg-nur-dur,” punctuated with a light slap of Midnight’s rump.
“You… you son of a goat! I’ll kill you!” With that, Fleethoof pulled his pistol from his vest and stood on his hind legs to take aim at his traitorous friend… only to promptly fall on his face, apparently having forgotten that ponies don’t work too well on two legs. Having sworn he could remember performing full-on infantry charges while firing a rifle—which is silly, when you think about it, but whatever—he screamed in frustration and pointed his gun at the still-sloppily-making-out pair and squeezed the trigger.
Or he would have, if it weren’t for the fact that ponies—lacking opposable thumbs… or thumbs in general… or anything even remotely resembling a finger—couldn’t possibly pull a trigger on a pistol. As it was, he simply flexed his hoof impotently for several seconds while the pair continued to eat each other’s faces. He thrust his hooves forward, as if trying to will a bullet out of the incredibly poorly designed firearm, but it refused.
Finally needing to come up for air, Bentgrass and Midnight both panted, lost in each other’s eyes, until they heard a strange, high-pitched tone coming from behind them. Turning their head slowly, fearing a bomb or something, they instead found Captain Fleethoof, Hero of the “Griffon Wars” and leader of a “Special Forces” unit… bawling like a baby.
Bentgrass cleared his throat. “Um… Fleethoof, I know th—“
“You ganked my waifuuuu-huu-huu-huu!” Able to take no more, Fleethoof ran away from them and into the dark of the night. Or, at least he tried to, but still weighed down with o much combat swag, he was only able to maintain an awkward waddle, until he hit a nearby wall and knocked himself out.
Midnight and Bentgrass looked at the unconscious captain for several seconds, until Midnight turned to her lover with a lusty smile. “So, Agent Bentgrass, I’d love to see what kind of special… interrogation techniques they teach you I Division Six.”
Bentgrass gave a low grin. “Oh, my dear Ms. Dasher. Follow me to the bedroom, and I’ll show you that the eye isn’t the only thing that resembles a bat.”
Both stared at each other for several long seconds. Finally, Bentgrass said, “If you forget I said that, you get to be on top.”
Midnight clapped her hooves together giddily. “Deal!”
Author's Note
