My Little Griffon: The Red Paw

Coffin
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“Shed no tears until seeing the coffin.” ~Chinese Proverb
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(One year later)

It had taken some time, but Gilda was finally back in the higher echelons of Special Operations. Another while longer and she’d be back in the Red Paw, working directly for his majesty himself. She relished in the thought, but was struck by another. Whatever line they had discovered of the ever-so-elusive mole always went dry just as it felt they were about to discover the mole’s identity.

Each and every time they were foiled, Fulton was enraged. Gilda had, at first, shared in that anger, but soon realized that she would only be angry time and time again if she kept it up. While she expected every trail to run dry, she still tried her hardest to find the mole.

She and Clive had both mentioned getting more troops into the circle, but each time Fulton rejected it. He knew that he wanted to get more griffons in on it, but the choices were either smart enough to be the mole or too stupid to be of any help.

They had had their fair share of missions and the majority went off without a hitch. Those that did, unsurprisingly, led them to trails of the mole, meaning that the bastard was still active.

Gilda grumbled to herself as these thoughts of the mole assailed her. Throwing a look at the paper brought a smile to her face. A small warehouse had been found burned to the ground, all that remained of those inside were charred remains. The fact that the article didn’t say that the charred remains had all their throats slit or were filled with Arcumsire holes meant that the fire had done its job of removing evidence.
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“Next mission,” Clive said, slapping the folder onto the table in front of her. Gilda flinched as her thoughts were interrupted and Clive made a face, “Why’re you so zoned out recently? All that bizarre shit that was happening in ponyland?”

It had been a few days since odd pink clouds with dark rain had appeared on the horizon. Stories in well known Equestrian newspapers had told of some ‘Discord’ and his defeat by the ‘Elements of Harmony.’ Gilda knew that the king had his eye on the ‘Elements of Harmony.’ Ever since stories of the pony’s Princess Luna or Nightmare Moon returning, the king had had his eye on these ‘Elements.’ When it had been found out that Rainbow Dash, whom Gilda knew, was one of these ‘Elements,’ she and Clive had been sent to do some investigation, though Clive remained in an overwatch position so as not to draw any undesired attention.

Gilda growled as she thought of the pink pony that had ruined everything with her idiotic antics, almost getting Gilda killed for her failure.

“Chill, Gilda. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Clive said, taking a short step back.

Gilda realized that she had been sitting there with her glazed expression and had let loose a growl, she changed her expression and turned to Clive, “I didn’t growl at you, idiot, I was just thinking about that shit-shot mission to Ponyville and that crazy pink bitch.”

“Oh,” Clive said, taking a seat next to her with an exhale of relief, “That was a year ago you know, it shouldn’t still upset you. Anyways, tell me if you remember the griffon in the mugshot,” he pushed the file closer to her and then hailed a waiter. Gilda held the file at an angle so the waiter couldn’t see. With her back to the booth, no others would be able to see it either.

“That prick from the first mole incident,” she said when the waiter left with Clive’s order, the other griffon nodded.

“Finally have a lock on his position and that old pony family still wants him dead. This time the mission is classified to only two pairs,” Clive said.

“Fulton and Ales, I’d guess?” Gilda said, closing the file.

“Nope,” Clive said, pausing as Gilda’s food arrived. He nabbed a few of her anchovy fries and was granted a glare from her, “Don’t know the other pair, but we’re infil one and they’re SHTF duty. As the file said, he’s got a meeting with some other darker shaded figures in a week, some old warehouse like the one we visited last night. We go in, assassinate this fuck, and get out. Easier done than said.”

Gilda nodded and enjoyed her meal.
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Gilda found flying in the darksuit to be quite annoying. However it was either fly in or climb to the top of the building and the former choice was superior.

She and Clive had been watching the building for the past two days, sleeping in shifts and recording all movement. When they were certain that their target was inside, they headed in.

Gilda popped open a window at the top of the building and Clive replaced it once they were inside. Large crates dominated the room and lights gave the room plenty of bright areas, plenty of dark ones as well.

The acoustics allowed them to listen in on the conversation, but it was unimportant and neither bothered listening.

The two nigh-invisible griffons soon came upon two unwary guards. Both were glaring at a door in front of them and not the shadows of their sides. Had they, they may or may not have seen the single darsuited griffon fly a short distance to a series of crates and make his way to the opposite side.

Clive retrieved his razorwire garrote and nodded to Gilda.

“On the count of three,” Gilda gestured, standing right next to her target with the silence of a ghost, “One...two...three,” Gilda grabbed her target, wrapping her paw around his beak and then twisting his head and hearing the wet snap of neck vertebrae breaking.

Clive had given his own target a poorly done surprise tracheotomy and lowered the body gently to the ground so as not to make noise. The two then were on their way once more.

The voices grew louder as the two approached their target. Clive retrieved the short barreled Arcumsire from its holster at his side, checking to see that it was locked and loaded. The head of the bolt was covered in a fast acting poison. A shot even that grazed a target would be lethal.

The duo came to an opening between two boxes and Clive used this as a window to shoot through. As he identified the target, however, the shit hit the fan.

“Two’a the guards’re dead!” A griffon from down the hallway cried out.

It was at that moment that two things happened, Clive pulled the trigger and the target ducked down out of the sight picture. The result was a thwack of a bolt hitting the crate that had recently been blocked by the target’s body.

The two assassins would have elicited swears had the darksuits not made it difficult to speak.

Gilda quickly activated her culernus and leapt to the air as cries of, “They’re on the other side,” came from the other side of the wall of crates. Gilda sank the claws into the neck of a griffon who had flown over the crates, tearing out his jugulars before landing on top of the crates.

The body dove into the ground below and another griffon landed on the same crate as she had. Gilda slashed at his face, drawing a series of red lines across it, and he cried out, clutching his face with a paw and blindly swiping at her with the other. She responded by shoving her culernus into his gut and slicing apart his innards before sending him off the wall of crates as well.

A bolt whizzed past her face and she hopped backwards into the darkness once more as a few others followed.

Back in the shadows, she noticed the target head into a side passage.

“I after target,” she yelled back at Clive, not bothering with gestures. Without pausing to see if he had understood, she raced after the target.

He was fast, but, even in her darksuit, she was faster. He looked over his shoulder at the last second before she tackled him and was unable to do anything as he was brought down by the superior fighter.

She retracted her culernus and drew a short thin knife that was perfect for going through ribs.

“Wait,” the target said, “I have useful information!”

Gilda paused, listening.

“If you take me back to your headquarters and promise to let me go then I can tell you. About a mole!”

“Tell me now,” Gilda forced out, “I take you back, they kill you,” she threw a quick glance beyond her shoulder, nogriffon was in sight, “You lie, I kill you.”

“You’ll let me go?”

Gilda nodded.

“We don’t deal with names, but the mole was a griffon in a group that was only dubbed SO6. I know now that that stands for Special Operations pairing number six. Your mole is one of the griffons in that pair.”

Gilda took all of this in silence.

“You’ll let me go now?” the target asked.

Gilda looked over her shoulder again, still clear.

“After I send you to hell,” she said, not caring that most of the words were unintelligible.

She brought the knife to his chest, above the left lung and the griffon grabbed the knife in a desperate attempt to stop her. She smiled, knowing that his grip was weak and that she could easily overpower him. She slowly let the blade descend while he strained to keep it aloft. It took a short period of time for it to descend into his flesh and penetrate his left lung.

The target winced in pain and started to breathe rapidly to make up for the punctured organ. Gilda forced the blade down faster for the next lung and finally deprived the griffon of breathing. Despite the lost lungs, his body still fought for air, but found none and his brain soon shut down, his eyes glazing over and his body becoming still after a final muscle spasm.

Gilda got up from the corpse and delivered a kick to his groin to make sure he was actually dead. The body didn’t react and Gilda went back to the main area of the warehouse.

“Where you been?” Clive asked, having removed his mask. None of the other griffons in the room were still alive and Clive had received a few cuts to his suit, “I almost got worried.”

“Target’s dead,” Gilda said, removing her own mask, “I also have some information on the mole. He...or she, is in SpecOps pair six. You know which one that is?”

“Top of my head?” Clive shrugged, “No, but we can find out.”

Gilda nodded, “Let’s put the final nail in this motherfucker’s coffin.”