Location: Canterlot Castle, Canterlot, Equestria, Equus
Time: 4:30 AN (Afternoon)
Date: 22 Sechortus 1002 A.B. (After Banishment)

The double doors to Equestria's seldom-used war room burst open, sending clouds of dust into the air until a golden glow suddenly spread into the room and cleared the many centuries' worth of dust and clutter. Princesses Celestia and Luna, along with a few trustworthy advisors, strode into the now-clean room, each taking a seat at the table in the center of the room and a young guard Sergeant lay out a map of Equestria over the previous, now woefully out of date map.

“You're dismissed, Sergeant Storm Fury.” Princess Celestia said as she motioned to her assistant to begin laying out notes and photos for the meeting about to take place. The guard gave a quick salute and eyed the magically blank papers briefly before letting herself out of the room. A blue glow encased the doors, quickly shutting them as soon as the guard was out of the way and the anti-eavesdropping spell woven into the doors immediately went into effect as soon as they were locked.

“We are sure you're wondering why we're having a meeting here in the war room when our usual board room is available and also why there are so few of you involved,” Celestia said in the most 'This is very serious, but I don't want you to worry' voice she could muster, “but this is potentially a matter of national security and we hope to have this resolved without this room having to live up to its name.” She took this opportunity to reveal the contents of the notes and photos and give out copies to all those who have not seen the brutality, “This just recently came to my attention early this month. I had to make sure what I was seeing was true before I said anything to anypony, including you, dear sister.” She gave a brief, apologetic look to her sister while she still had the attention of the room at large.

With each photo everypony went through, the advisors looked more and more green around the gills and Princess Luna began to look more and more incensed before she finally slammed her fist down into the table directly onto a dent that had surely come from a previous and similar outburst, causing everypony but Celestia to jump as she shouted in tones nearing those of the Royal Canterlot Voice, “HOW DARE THOSE FOALISHLY FOUL FOWL-FELINES! PRAY TELL, WHAT POSSESSED THOSE—THOSE FUC—MMPH?!”

Luna's rant was cut short as Celestia quickly but gently held her muzzle shut with her magic and once she was sure that her sister had quieted down, let her go, “Easy, dear sister. Volume. I know, I'm very upset with the griffins as well. This morning, I sent a very strongly worded letter to Augustus that he would have to be insane to ignore.”

Luna's scowl only deepened at the mention of the griffin Prime Minister, practically growling, “That complete featherbrain will only rebuff ALL your requests, sister! Be it for arrest and extradition or for even just investigating those responsible! We NEED to reactivate our spy networks and have them gather intel!”

“Ahem-hem,” a middle-aged noblemare in attendance decided to interject, “while I quite agree that the griffins can be rather...Uuhm...violent and harsh, I have a great deal of doubt towards the veracity of these photographs. Surely, these sorts of wounds can't be possible! I mean, crossbows are rather savage, but those don't hold a candle to these wounds...Uuuh, ignoring the beak and talon marks, obviously.” The other advisors gathered gave murmurs of agreement with the noblemare as they perused the photos with critical, if nauseated eyes.

Photos of pony corpses were spread on the table, all of them varying degrees of gruesome and some the advisors chose to look at once then not again for fear of losing their lunch. The corpses all had one thing in common aside from the varying amounts of flesh ripped off and presumably eaten: strange, round wounds in various points of anatomy, most being in the torsos.

Celestia could only shake her head sadly at the noblemare as a frown crossed her features, “These were all taken within Equestrian borders and all verified by autopsies from castle physicians. What's more, we were able to capture one and only one of the griffins responsible for this travesty. Before we could question her, however, she chose to end her life with vial of poison. Thankfully, this meant we were able to appropriate one of the weapons responsible and I have never in my life seen such a thing of elegantly engineered horror.” Her horn glowed and the weapon appeared to float above the table, turning to show it at all angles to everypony in the room.

The weapon resembled a griffin's crossbow, but only in passing as it was made of stamped steel and with a strange thin rectangular box that stuck out past a wooden handle stuck onto the steel frame. Celestia manipulated the weapon with her magic, extending foldable metal bar that would allow the user to steady the weapon as they used it and even ejecting the thin metal box from its holder to show the small metal objects inside.

Celestia showed the inside of the rectangle to each pony in the room individually, “We believe that these metal objects are what give this weapon its power. If they weren't being used against my little ponies, I'd say it's quite ingenious. A metal pin inside the weapon hits a point on the projectile, causing a reaction within using black powder similar to that in fireworks except more energetic to send a small piece of very hot metal flying through the air at great speeds into a target.”

Celestia nodded toward Luna as she went on, “I'm afraid I have to agree with you, dear sister. Our dormant spy networks need to be reactivated to gather more intel on the griffins' intentions and weaponry before we bluster our way into potential conflict. However, they will need to exercise extreme caution as there are rumors of Equestrian citizens being deported or even devoured within griffin territory. Perhaps we should employ some griffin expats in this endeavor. Naturally, Discord will prove invaluable to Equestria's spy network should he consent to—”

She's cut off an odd sort of ringing noise sounds through the room, causing everypony to turn their heads to and fro to find it. Without warning, a vent materialized in the ceiling and out dropped Discord wearing a form-fitting black outfit over his mismatched parts and a balaclava covering all but his eyes. Bending down onto one knee and holding a claw to one ear, he adopted a sort of gruff, growling voice, “Spy network? Hu-uh, I'm all over that. Are there going to be sneaking missions? I get to pick my codename, right? I want to be Firm Asp. That sounds like a good, non-infringing name.”

Celestia deadpanned at Discord's antics before letting out a soft sigh as she decided to go ahead and start filling him in on what he should be doing, “I'm glad you're eager, Discord. But this is very serious and for this...'mission', you need to stay intangible. This is strictly reconnaissance until we can decide whether or not to take more aggressive action.” The weapon floated up into Discord's immediate field of view as she continued, undeterred, “These weapons have been causing me no end of grief as I wonder how many ponies will fall to them. I'm sure the other heads of state will wonder the same for their charges as I've seen minotaurs, zebras, and buffalo taken by this brutality as well.”

Discord was secretly glad that he was wearing the balaclava as he examined a weapon he's only ever seen in his chaotically prophetic dreams, wearing a concealed look of pure shock and panic. He may not have been directly responsible for these sorts of things appearing in Equestria, but he was sure he made the spell that may have been used to procure them. Many questions ran through his mind: where are the originals so he can track down from where they came, how did the griffins persuade anypony to even cast that spell and for what purpose other than to cause trouble, what's for third breakfast, how can he avoid being stoned for this, how can he get something to get him stoned the fun way, and why are griffins such killjoys?

Discord glanced around somewhat guiltily before quickly composing himself and giving an overexaggerated salute, “Mission received and understood, au reservoir, ponies!” And with that, Discord let out another odd noise as he disappeared, leaving behind a large red exclamation point that disintegrated after a few short seconds.

Everypony in the room shared odd looks as Celestia's gaze met Luna's, “That...was easier than I expected that to go.”

Luna simply shook her head slowly, “That is Discord to the core. Unpredictable, but dependable in his unpredictability.” And with that taken care of, everypony began to lay tentative plans on what to do moving forward and how to respond should the worst happen.

~~

~~

Location:Empty Parking Lot, ???, ???, USA, Earth
Time: 10:55 P.M.
Date: Current

Had there been any residential buildings in the area and had anyone been paying attention anyway, they'd almost never notice a black SUV pulling into an abandoned factory's parking lot. Inside, silently fuming, was a man scanning the lot before his eyes finally fell onto the opposite end of the lot where a dark green sedan was arriving, its only occupant being a very professionally dressed woman who would not look out of place at a company board meeting. Samael, as he prefered to be called more often than not, growled to himself as he went over this night's previous events, turning off the engine to the SUV and stepping out as he pulled off the jacket that labelled him a member of a high-priced security firm.

The sedan stopped short of touching bumpers with the SUV and the woman stepped out, walking back to the trunk as she did so and speaking in a brisk, dignified tone, “I had a talk with our client, he's not exactly pleased. He expected a quiet—”

Samael had already thrown the jacket into the SUV in disgust as he shot off a venomous glare to his assistant and spoke in a low, authoratative tone, “I know, Moira, I fucking know,” his tone took on a growling, rage-filled timber as he pealed away the carefully prepared bits of prop makeup that had hidden some unfortunate facial scarring that would've made him easier to identify and threw them into the SUV as well, “Is it my fault if the bastard has more enemies that aren't willing to take the patient route?! Is it my fault that a damn sniper a building over decided tonight was the night he wanted that son of a bitch dead?” Samael snatched the device presented to him by his closest confidant out of her hands and walked back over to the SUV, turning it over in his hands as he did before finding what he was looking for on the incendiary IED.

Moira sighed with misery as she watched her normally patient and stoic boss set the timer on the bomb to incinerate any evidence left behind and climbed back into the driver's seat of the sedan, “Not much we can do about it now. He's dead, you almost had him, but now we don't get paid for this one.”

Samael climbed into the passenger's seat with a grunt, “Almost?! He was practically in his death throes. It was so fucking PERFECT too! Foul play? What foul play? His food must've been prepared in peanut oil, he must've misplaced his epi-pen, and the panic button was on the fritz. Really, brighter minds in security should've noticed all this! I sure as hell hope either you or the police find the guy who pulled the damn trigger! I want to know where his family lives, who sent him, and where THEIR family lives!”

The black sedan pulled out of the parking lot and was half a mile away before the firebomb destroyed the SUV and contents. Samael ran his hands through his hair with a scowl as he eyed himself in the passenger side visor mirror, “Go as fast as you can without getting pulled over and take as many shortcuts as possible so I can get to the safehouse and wash this shit dye out! I need a drink or seven before I'll be able to forget that my carefully laid plans failed miserably because some prick couldn't hold his wad long enough for the bastard to die ANYWAY!”

Moira shook her head slowly at his theatrics as she reached between the seats and pulled out a clipboard, “Insurance forms to sign. They still haven't found the last of your shipment and they need to know what's missing to recompensate you.”

With a low groan, he took the forms from her and dug between the seats for the pen, “Tell me, how the hell does a shipment of what should be museum pieces suddenly disappear without a damn trace? Took long enough to find a damn collector willing to sell me those things at a reasonable price for my collection. I swear, I think they stole the fucking things and they just don't want to get caught. Not going to do anything about that until I'm sure though. Don't want any attention after all and especially not over some goddamn Nazi guns.”

The forms were finally filled out properly by the time they arrived at the safehouse and the slow burn of Samael's temper had cooled enough for him to bid his assistant a good night and to find a job that can be done quick and easy to make up the money lost from the wasted three months spent planning the botched job tonight. He reached into the backseat to grab a "full" travel bag to give the appearance of coming home off a red-eye flight and stepped out of the car with a heavy slouch to make himself appear to be exhausted, his untucked shirt and loosened tie also giving the appearance credence. Unlocking the door as Moira pulled away, he practically threw the travel bag into a nearby closet and slammed the door behind himself.

Samael, safely inside his safehouse which appeared to be a very nice modern home to the untrained eye, let out a loud, angry growling groan as he sank onto his couch and reflected on the night's events, 'Why does everything go to shit when you take your eyes off of it? Oh well, things will get better. After all, I'm amazing at what I do and bad luck can only affect so much if your plans are solid.' With his thoughts squared away and his desire for a shower overtaking him, he headed upstairs to wash away his failure after a quick check of his camera room to make sure he wasn't followed or overtly noticed. Satisfied at what he saw, he headed to his bathroom, not noticing two camera monitors briefly took on the appearance of a solid mustard yellow with two mismatched red circles. 'Interesting...'

Feeling in higher spirits after the meditative feeling of a long, warm shower, the tired hitman examined his reflection to make sure all the hair dye he'd been using to keep a lower profile was all washed out. After all, a conversation piece in the form of a wide, nearly platinum blonde streak in his otherwise dark, shoulder-length hair would draw some unwanted attention and made for easier identification. He made sure all the base concealer around the two parallel scars across his left cheekbone was washed away as well. It was amazing how easily one could go from being a remarkably unique individual to practically Johnny Everyman with a little know-how and some stage makeup.

After he left to dress and hit the sack, his reflection stayed behind and gave a crooked smile, eyes flashing to the same mismatched eyes on the camera monitors, 'Oh yes, you'll get the job done and make sure I'm not taken for granite, won't you? I'll need to spin it so you want to do it, but that will be all too easy. After all, a job is a job and you won't rest until it's finished.' The reflection in the mirror swirled as it morphed into a laughing Discord before fading.

~~

~~

Location:Residential Safehouse, ???, ???, USA, Earth
Time: 8:25 A.M.
Date: The Next Morning

After a quick, "nutritious" breakfast of a granola bar, some coffee, and a bagel, Samael holed himself up in his weight room to let off some steam. He'd been doing this sort of thing for nearly a decade now to varying degrees of success. A brisk workout always helped him center himself after a job, good or bad. The peace of the room was suddenly pierced by three buzzes in rapid succession coming from the front door and without missing a beat, he pulled out the smartphone that had just started ringing from his pocket.

He smirked at the name on the I.D. and answered with a jovial, teasing tone, “Ohayo, Lindsay. I'm in my gym right now, get in here.”

Shortly later, Moira stepped into the weight room and immediately wrinkled her nose at the smell of a hard workout, “I see you're drowning yourself in your own testosterone. Better than alcohol, I suppose. And I'd really wish you'd stop saying my name like that, Kenny.”

“Sounds like someone needs to go out and get herself a hard dicking. Take a night off, go get laid, and we can get past this together,” said Samael as he toweled off, “Hell, I'll bite the bullet and give it to you if you want. I know you want it.” He was rewarded with his own water bottle thrown directly at his head and he grinned smugly as he caught it, “Thanks, sweetheart~. I was getting dehydrated.”

Moira silently cursed the lack of HR in her choice of profession and smiled sarcastically, “Ha. Ha. Glad to know you don't know to drink until I tell you to. That bodes well for your continued existence.” Seating herself on a nearby bench, she withdrew a tablet PC from her bag, “Onto business, please. Our sniper was caught trying to exit the building by police and as it turns out, nobody sent him. He was acting on his own like a complete amateur.” She let out a thoughtful hum and gave the screen a few taps, “And it seems somebody just hanged themselves in their holding cell, what a shame.”

Finishing his water, Samael raised his eyebrow at his assistant, “No family?” and he sighed as she shook her head, “Damn. Oh well, water under the bridge now. Jobs?”

“Are you sure you want another one so soon? Maybe you should take a break. Go get your pole ridden and get the tension out,” she smiled as he glared, “Works both ways, sweetheart~. But fine, be that way.” Her finger flew across her screen several times as she scanned for potential work, “Ahh, not seeing much of anything worth doing without having to pay anyone off. Oh, here! Bain has—”

He held up a hand to stop her, “No! Nonononono, I'm not going on Crime.net for work. I'd be fine with the sneaky stuff, but even then, the clowns have been getting too much fed attention lately and I want none of that.”

Moira sighed, “I figured as much. Still, it's worth keeping in mind in case things don't work out. Your last shopping spree put a dent in your funds that I'd like to have made up,” and continued browsing until she gave a small start, “Oh! Something just popped up from one...'Sid Droc.' Maybe it'll be up your alley.” Her eyes briefly went out of focus before she looked up with a smile, “This will do perfectly, actually. I'll give you the GPS coordinates, go clean up and he'll meet you for brunch at a private residence.”

He raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing as he swept from the room to do as she said, “This better be good. You know I don't like those sorts of meetings. People getting off on trying to act like fucking supervillains when they have no real plan and expect me to do anything and everything for them. Help yourself to a drink or whatever and in approximately twenty minutes, go start the car.”

Soon, the dark green sedan pulled into the long driveway of an opulent house and Samael stepped out in a pristine white suit with a black vest and tie, eyeing the front door of the house apprehensively, “Be ready for pickup, Moira.” He shut the door at her nod and watched for her to park before ringing the doorbell. He fought his instinct to jump when the door opened almost instantly to reveal a gorgeous, smiling maid that simultaneously caught his attention and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She stepped aside, held out her hand to invite him inside, and wordlessly led him towards the dining room where she made sure he was sat comfortably before making her exit into the adjoining kitchen.

Samael fought down his apprehension and...was that fear? He hadn't felt that in a while, but it could've just been the fact that he just couldn't place why he was uneasy about this whole situation. A deep, greasy-sounding voice rang out from around the corner in front of him, "Ah, my guest has arrived, it seems. Very good. I hope you're hungry!” And with that, an older man stepped out and quickly sat down with a wide, crooked smile. Samael merely nodded as he took in the other man's appearance, trying to not betray anything more than polite attention as he made note of the man's stark white hair and goat-like beard. He had to stop himself from thinking too much about the man's red eyes, chalking it up to colored contacts for shock value.

“Now, now, my new acquaintance! No need to be quite so taciturn. I may have a job for you, but we'll be seeing a lot of each other over the course of time it'll take to complete. Why, we might even become friends!” And with that, he snapped his fingers. A small number of nearly identical maids stepped out of the kitchen at the sound and laid out silverware, placed napkins in each of the men's laps, and finally laid down plates of immacuately prepared food before disappearing back into the kitchen.

After masking his surprise at the maids' appearances, Samael gave a polite smile as he pushed the plate away, “Good service, Mr. Droc, but I had a big breakfast and I'm much hungrier for a good job than a meal at the moment.”

Sid's smile didn't even waver as he began to take large, greedy bites of his own meal, “Fair enough, I suppose. I guess it WAS a bit too much to ask to have my servants' DE-LICIOUS food eaten instead of thrown away. But who am I to judge? I'm sure you have your reasons. Fearing a bit of poison, maybe even some tranquilizers of some sort, or even just plain...allergies,” and grasped his hands together to regard Samael imperiously, “That's the life of an assassin, isn't it? Always looking out for anything that can trip you up, always looking over your shoulder for unwanted attention, trying to maintain a cover, trying to keep you and your pretty little assistant Ms. Lindsay Brooks from facing down the business end of a pair of handcuffs...Eh, Mr. Ken'ichi Sammuels?”

The hitman's chair hit the ground with a loud thud as he jumped up and pulled a suppressed pistol from the holster hidden by his jacket, aiming it directly between the other man's eyes, “You have ten seconds before you have another hole to breathe out of, mister. Fill it with words that'll make me decide that you're not a threat to me or Moira.”

The older man held up his hands in a gesture of surrender with that same smile on his face, “Easy, Sir Samael. I've got a unique opportunity for you and your assistant. So if you please, put that rather handsome looking firearm away. I guarantee you no harm to yourself AND your assistant...Even if I do get that other hole.”

“Go on.” Samael kept his aim focused even as the other man stood up and began to pace slowly side to side.

“I'm here to offer you...a clean slate, so to speak. You might have avoided unwanted attention as much as possible, but eventually they will catch up to you by your own error or their dumb luck. And you and I both know that the Continental doesn't take kindly to such attention, even from a respected member such as yourself. That can be avoided with the considerable power I have at my disposal,” said Sid as he paced back and forth, keeping a smiling eye on the wary assassin and seeming completely unconcerned about the threat he would pose to any ordinary man, “All you have to do is sign on the dotted line and you'll get something I know you've wanted for some time now: a second chance. Just...don't waste it.” His smile turned slightly sad as he pulled a scroll from his smoking jacket, but it quickly went crooked again as he moved the plates of food out of the way and set the scroll down.

Samael eyed the man pensively as he very slowly lowered his pistol, ready to bring it back up at the slightest errant twitch as he considered his options, “What makes you say I want a second chance? I do well enough. Moira does good by me and I clean the streets of trash more often than not. I may not have the most virtuous morals, but they're there and I won't take jobs if I don't agree with the reasons.”

He leaned forward slightly, keeping Sid in his peripherals as he read down the scroll, 'Who uses scrolls anyway? Those are old as...Hu-uh. What the hell am I even reading? I mean, I get that everyone has different euphamisms for safety reasons, but what's all this shit about ponies and griffins and magic? He better explain, that's all I know.'

Sid continued to pace as he watched the hitman read, “You might not think you want a second chance, but believe you me, it'll do a world of good. I might also mention that most of the targets I have in mind are scum. They've been slaughtering a great deal of innocents and I assure you that the world would be a better place without the extremists responsible. Oh and they might've also stolen your property. You know, those collector's items that disappeared?”

Samael's head shot up to look the other man in the eyes before slowly looking back down at the scroll to continue reading. He debated with himself until finally looking up slowly, “And you guarantee mine and Moira's freedom? I'd hate for her to go down for what I've done. She may be all I've got here, but she has family to think about.” A genial nod and genuinely uncrooked smile from Sid was all it took. Samael grabbed the pen he was sure that he had missed in all the excitement and confusion as he tucked away his pistol and finally signed the scroll.

As soon as the pen left the scroll, it was gathered up by Sid, rolled up, and tucked away in his smoking jacket, “Wonderful! I'll get back to you tomorrow morning with the details, as of right now, spend as much time as you please with your assistant and assure her that she'll be fine in your retirement!” He ushered the assassin out briskly and disappeared back into his house with a great crooked grin.

Samael was dumbfounded at the other man's words, but shrugged and signaled for Moira to come and pick him, musing on what had just happened. He climbed into the car and just looked over at his assistant, “That...was quite possibly the most unique meeting with a client I've ever had in my life.” She raised an eyebrow at him that clearly said "Well, spill the beans" as she pulled away.

He quickly regaled with everything he experienced, leaving out no details and he had to smile when Moira excitedly looked over at the mention of his retirement, “Well, it's about time! Can't spend forever ending lives, now can you? Here's hoping he'll have everything handled properly for it, though,” her smile turned teasing, “Because if I end up in court because of you, you know I'll roll over on you. Just like we agreed back when this arrangement started.”

With that out of the way, they spent the day together with the understanding that they'd be parting ways after this next job, possibly never to see each other again. How little they knew how true that actually held as the day ended and they headed to their places of rest.

~~

~~

Location: What Was Previously The Safehouse, ???, ???, USA, Earth
Time: 10:00 A.M.
Date: The Next Morning

News crews swarmed up and down the street with excitement, trying to be first to cover the odd phenomenon that had occurred the previous night. After all, how could a residential home simply disappear into the thin air?

A dark green sedan pulled up to the cordoned off area, the sole inhabitant gawking at what used to be the spot where her now ex-boss lived and a blip sounded on her handy tablet PC. She picked it up and read the message before finally breaking down into tears of simultaneous sorrow and joy.

Dear Lindsay,

It's been quite a time. Have a fun time without me and don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong anymore. Enjoy the money, all the details have been taken care of by Sid. Oh, and find a good guy to give you a good dicking since I won't be around to offer any more.

I Set You Free,
Ken'ichi

Author's Note

Bonus points to those who might've guessed that the griffins have WWII German armaments before the reveal.

Either way, my first story here and I'm wanting to make it good so I can get writing practice in for when I decide to do it outside of fanfiction.

By the way, the location, time, and date stuff? Not gonna bother with past the Prologue and beginning of Chapter 1. After all, once the times are synced up, why keep track?

Feel free to point out my errors. I know I look back every now and then and find them.