Chapter 1
Faux Pas
It’s more than often that you get to meet a pretty face passing you by the street. But how often is it that the one who passed by will do so again with a different face, a different identity, an alternate personality. Still her, but different. Odd, is it not? Perhaps hearing it is. But you may not know that it’s happening to you... Every single day.
I sat up on the bed. The curtains fluttered behind me as the cool morning breeze rolled in. I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know how wasted I looked. Basing on how I went about my night, I can tell my hair’s ruffled worse than a rat’s nest. I hopped off the bed and looked back at the massive stallion hidden under the covers. I felt a smile creep on my face as I walked off to get freshened up.I managed to glimpse myself in the mirror as I passed; brown eyes were peering back at me. Yes, my blond hair was all a jumbled mess but at least my curls weren’t quite as ruined. My white coat is still pretty clean too despite the mess I ended up in last night. And I have always loved my mark; a comedy-drama opera symbol. How fitting for a mare named Faux Pas. With a smile, I trotted on to what I had to do next.This was the same day as usual; I get up, brush my teeth, take a nice hot bath, put my clothes back on, and check to see if the stallion’s still alive. Well, with a large gash to his abdomen like that, I doubt he would be but it wouldn’t hurt to check....No pulse. I must have done a really good job with the fork then. I suppose I can add that to my list of ‘death by’ skills now. I’m still more proud with the teacup one though but that’s another story.I sighed with an unsure smile. He was cute and maybe we could have worked out. But I have a job to do. And he did his for me. I should probably pay his grave a visit sometime; maybe drop a flower or two.I went over his uniform. Obviously far bigger than me but at least his ID card was there. I can just get a new uniform in the agency warehouse after I get rid of that dumb inventory guy. I’m sure he’s seen me go out with... uhm... What was his name again? The ID says Fideles. Never knew he was from Perche. His name sounded Hismaneic to me. At least it looks feminine. I shouldn’t run into trouble if I swap the picture out.Security has always been lax in the middle domes. The only places that actually needed it were the distribution centers and local offices. With revolts concerning food shortages coming close to about a dozen a week, they would rather keep peace and order there than to heighten security in the domes. Besides, everypony’s afraid of him. All it takes is his whim for you to disappear. So if you have a death wish, go ahead and follow my tracks; I know the path I’m going.Sorraia’s cold today. Not like there ever was a warm day here where the sunlight actually graced the ground but it’s colder than usual, I guess. The city held its grey ambiance on everyone. Lamp posts with white fluorescent light shone the concrete paths which ponies walk on as public rail transportations ran through the middle paths. Electricity sparked on the power cables as the cable cars passed by with slow speed, their rails screeching as they did. Seems like they don’t oil those rails as much anymore. Budget cuts? Who knows? I turned a left down an alley. It was dark but why should I be afraid? A beggar looked up from under his home which comprised of a box of oranges and newspapers. I didn’t bother to meet his gaze. Shuffling his newspapers around, he produced a small device that had a small button on it, a button he pressed in a certain pattern. A loud clank on a door to my left told me where to go. The door closed by itself soon as I was inside and another loud clank told me it had locked itself. I almost find it funny to see a beggar working as a door man for food. Pretty efficient, really, and he doesn’t elicit suspicion either. I’d say the man I’m dealing with knows what he’s doing.The spiral stairs led up the circular shaft, beams of light from the outside produced the same grey ambiance within the structure. The lights were off save for that incandescent beam shining out of a door left ajar. That’s probably my cue to enter the room, I suppose.The room was spacious but the crates and equipment cases seemed to create divisions in the room, making it look more comfortable than it is. Some of the cases were open and I could almost see a few saddle guns disassembled and stored in them. I guess those would become useful if I could pick one up. In the far end of the room, I could see a familiar stallion who seemed to be busying himself with a container. Maybe a light cough would catch his attention.“Ahem.”“Ah! Miss Pas! You’re up pretty early.” greeted the dealer. He whizzed around on his chair and got up from his flank, walking towards me. I find his suit dashing but did he really have to brush his mane back? I think it would be better if he let it drop to one side. But that didn’t matter. His orange coat complements his blond mane and tail anyway. And I doubt that’s how he really looks like. It was common in the trade not to reveal how you look like but I have exceptions. This stallion, I can trust. Of course, to a certain extent but yes, I can trust him quite well although I do have some complaints about his fashion.“Mr. Grove, I would really appreciate if you’d do the honors.” I levitated the ID to him and gave him a smile. “And maybe a fitting makeover.”He looked at me and smiled as he grabbed the ID with his muzzle. Sometimes, I do forget that he’s only an earth pony but one with extreme talents.“You really don’t look like a ‘Fideles’, dear.” He was already working on the ID and preparing a swap tool when he turned around and looked at me. I could only assume he’s trying to find a perfect match for my ID image. “Maybe a brown mane, blue eyes, and a yellowish complexion?”“Sounds lovely.” Why can’t he fix himself up but fix the other agents like magic? I just don’t get it.He grinned and immediately got to work, taking small bottles of yellow and brown dye, and other liquids with him to the back room. “Five minutes,” he shouted from inside. “Five minutes and you’ll have a new you.”
:D:
As much as the city outside was cold, inside the domes, everything felt bright and sunny even if it was just an illusion. Large incandescent lights lined the columns, lighting up the innards of the dome and giving that warm illusion. Or maybe it was warm after all. I shouldn’t be surprised to see heaters installed on the dome columns either. Looks like the military does have it easy, all cooped up in the warmth of a dome while the rest of the citizens are left outside to rot. It’s almost ironically funny that they claim to protect the masses.“Halt. Identification please.”I handed the MP my pass from the glove compartment of the jeep. I’d say, a model like this would easily pass for vintage. Not many actually own these vehicles anymore save for people with the bits for it. Of course, I wouldn’t waste much money on something like this. I would rather have a Sauber than anything.“Please go right ahead, Miss Fideles. “I stepped on the accelerator and headed on ahead for the parking lot where other vehicles sat waiting for their owners’ return. I almost feel sorry that one of these vehicles would not be so lucky. Or was it two, counting mine? Heh. No matter. What’s important is that everything falls according to plan.The interior of the senate building was huge and luxurious. Chandeliers dangled from their perch up above, making the spacious lobby glow with a golden hue. Ofcourse, I can’t gawk at the architecture. Not if I want my cover to stay intact. I have a job to finish and a lot of money waiting for me after the job. I wonder if it will be as easy as the plan said it would be.Whatever, let’s just get this over with, Faux. Let’s just get it done with.I headed up the stairs; my hooves clopped at the marble with every step. Somehow though, every step gave me comfort. Like I belonged to where I was supposed to go. I should have found it strange though; why would my hooves still make a sound despite the carpet.I guess I’m not going to go back here then. Plan B.I reached the 2nd floor foyer and some security was there. I laughed to myself though, what was the purpose of these hunks if the enemy is in disguise? Foals. They’re just there for show. I trotted forward, face straight as iron, and entered the meeting hall, closing the door behind me with a light click.The Perishian national anthem was about to start as I entered and everyone was standing to respect it. Sounded like an orchestra was playing it but I know that it’s obviously a recording. I couldn’t help but let go a smile from behind all of them though as I trotted on to my position, singing along to the anthem of my birth.Allons! Poulains de la Patrie!Le jour de gloire est arrive!I trotted past the audiences and out the rear exit door. The music was still audible to me as I continued to sing.Contre nous de la tyrannie,L’etendard sanglant est leve!L’etendard sanglant est leve!I managed to find the bag I needed behind the materials closet just as planned. Using my magic to simultaneously open the door while carrying the duffle bag, I slipped in the upper maintenance area and shut the door behind me.Entendez-vous dans les campagnesMugir ces feroces soldats?Ils viennent jusque dans nos brasEngorger nos fils, nos compagnes.I came out of the ventilation duct and found myself on one of the trusses above the senators and representatives. From my perch, I could clearly see my target; brown mane, white coat, and fancy blue eyes. Heh, whaddaya know. It’s the new Perche representative.Aux armes, citoyens!Formez vos bataillons!I pulled out the parts from the duffle bag and assembled it with caution, using as little magic as possible just to levitate it but not enough to glow. Soon, it formed one of the most beautiful, silent, and deadly rifles known to ponykind; the subsonic Teflon round equipped magnum, Achilles. It only carries three rounds but it’s more than enough to finish the job.Marchez, marchez!Qu’un sang impurAbreuve nos sillons!I slowly looked through the scope and centered the crosshairs on the stallion as he continued to sing. I could almost see the look of worry plastered on his face, as if he knew it was coming. I continued to sing softly with the tune as I kept it ready and waited for him to step on to the podium for his opening speech.Aux armes, citoyens!Formez vos bataillons!Marchez, marchez!Qu’un sang impurAbreuve nos sillons!The song finally ended, the stallion took his steps towards his own personal abattoir. I smiled. Finally, he was right where I wanted him. My telekinesis began to squeeze the trigger as he said the first and last words that he would echo in that room.“Duty-“
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