Chapter 3: Oi, Preppy!

Much later, Moon's apartment.

“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“Sir, I have to reroot the BIOS: those we've been using are morally outdated in years; and also it needs some repairs.”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.

What the heck did A.B. stood for?