Author's Note

This chapter has just a bit more graphic violence than usual - viewer discretion advised!

Intermission - Split

Cipher walked at a steady pace to the Handler's office. In his saddlebag was something that made him walk with determination, locked on target with the door. He ignored everything around him - for a gnawing question overwhelmed him. He opened the door to the office...

And blinked in surprise as he saw a thin, petite pink mare - who upon seeing him shrieked in terror and fell under the desk.

The Earth pony blinked some more. He knew this mare, so took steps forwards. "Paperweight?" He softly asked. "...Don't tell me the Handler's out."

The little mare shook a little as she regained her composure, sitting back behind the desk. "H-Hi, C-C-C-Cipher..." She gulped. "I'm...so sorry. The Handler asked me to cover for him for the next three days...C-Can I do something for you?"

Cipher took a moment to observe her. She was everything the Handler wasn't - nervous, easy to frighten, and horribly anxious. What she had going for her was her intelligence, and very shrewd skills as a secretary - but this intelligence was overshadowed by terrible meekness and her crippling anxiety.

"Well, yes and no." Cipher sighed. "We're going to Nova Griffonia for our next assignment, but there was something in the intel we were given I don't like." He said.

Paperweight frowned somewhat. "Oh...Sorry, Cipher - neither of us had an idea you'd come up with a last minute concern. B-But maybe I can help?"

Cipher nodded, taking a file out of his saddlebags and putting them on the desk. "Remember Clover Island?"

Paperweight, comfortable around a familiar face and one that had similar passions when it came to the job, was actually able to take a deep breath in the middle of his actions and smile. "Yes, of course. Unnamed Operation #84. Unnamed on the basis of secrecy - rather than the usual clause of the mundane. Involved Agent Gomer, Colton, Umfuni, and Typhoon Team. Casualties consisted of Typhoon 3, as well as injuries for Agent Umfuni. A facility operated by unknown personnel, destroyed in napalm. Reported to have been visited by General Aurora of the Imperial Solar Army. Agent Colton had recovered random intelligence due to the time constraints. We reviewed it and determined that a Solar Empire spy network is present in Nova Griffonia and may intend to act in some way. Your team is being sent to investigate it."

Cipher smiled - what most would consider annoying to recall the facts that he already read, he found her thoroughness comforting, and her ability to checklist vital information to be soothing. "Right." He said. "We're being deployed close to the border of both Virgilia and the Solar Empire. Mountain town known as Jagged Hope. I'm more-so concerned why intel regarding Solar spy connections ended up in the middle of the ocean..."

Paperweight put a hoof to her chin. "It's a good point; but we noted that the intel seems to pertain to agents operating in Griffonia. Perhaps Clover Island acted as a way to connect their reports better to Equus?"

"Maybe, but I'm not sure why it's leading us to Jagged Hope. The town's close to the border, but offers no strategic value. Maybe the closest thing is that it was one of the few towns close to the epicenter of the Mad Tremble outbreak."

"Mad Tremble? Sorry - I didn't have time to go over that bit..." Paperweight admitted in mild shame.

Cipher chuckled. "No issue, I know north Equus wasn't in your field of interest up until now. The Mad Tremble was basically a cannibalism-transferred virus. Caused an effect that could be described as rabies - but more sophisticated and unfortunately for the victims not as lethal. Caused aggression, cravings for raw flesh - but allowed for a level of mental stability high enough to not hamper the victims' knowledge of weapons. This infection came from Virgillia and spread into Nova Griffonia, Stalliongrad, and Equestria; the latter two in light numbers, but Nova Griffonia had a somewhat larger number to deal with."

"Sounds like the Dread League, just..." Paperweight chuckled. "Less necromancy, more biology."

"Essentially." Cipher continued. "You had bands of cannibals just embarking on massive raids across Virgillia and Nova Griffonia; their desire to eat flesh and kill overwhelming them. No desire for looting, rape, or anything other than just...murdering and consuming those that weren't from their own band - though granted that's if they didn't get hungry enough. Jagged Hope made advantage of its geography, tricking these bands into their peril down the mountains and utilizing clever strategies to outsmart of the foe and cull the herds."

Paperweight shivered. "Just...terrible..."

Cipher nodded. "Sorry about getting sidetracked. Anyways, Jagged Hope offers no strategic value, and I doubt it would connect a spy ring. We ought to look at major cities. I mean, that explosion in Weter - doesn't present any flags for us?"

Paperweight tapped her chin a little. "I see your point...Still, I think the Handler would've paid attention to this too. You were going to get a lot of intel once you're in Nova Griffonia, so maybe there's still some relevance to being in Jagged Hope?"

"I would..." Cipher sighed as he'd need to surrender to the pun. "I would hope so. We're departing at sunrise. I really hope Handler knows what he's doing..."

"I'm sure he does." Paperweight gave a cutesy smile. "And even if he wasn't, he chose you because he knows you're the ones who can adapt to any situation and take care of it."

"...Very reassuring, Paperweight." Cipher rose a brow.

***

At a crossroad in Vartai, a group of soldiers had gathered as commotion began to stir up. Two trucks were on the opposite ends of the crossroad, facing each other with their backs. Attached to their tow hooks were chains - and they all led to the center of the crossroads...

Where a griffon wearing all black screamed for his life, as the chains were attacked to shackles around his paws.

A soldier looked into the distance and saw something...blinking before yelling out and raising his assault rifle - causing others to take note. The griffon looked up - and maniacally smiled at the ray of hope...and the ray of hope faded as the commander of the troops ordered them to lower their weapons.

Approaching in the distance was the Handler - whose presence was anticipated. Among the crowd of Vartai soldiers was Abba Povner, who took an active role in setting up the meet. The pony turned to the sounds of commotion, and approached to meet the changeling.

The Handler stepped aside with Abba, standing in the grass as he lit a cigarette, the pony refusing to participate. "Morning, Abba. I see timing isn't the word of the day, is it?" He said as the two now stood just a few meters away from the crying and screeching griffon.

"You requested to see me at the earliest possible opportunity." The pony simply said. "I delivered as best as I could."

The changeling smiled, showing off his fangs slightly. "No factor. I'm glad, and thankful you've found the time for me on your timetable."

"Of course." Was Abba's cold, swift response.

"So, who's this?" The Handler asked Abba. The pony took a few steps to the side to better present the victim.

"Someone who doesn't deserve a swift death." Abba said. "Reformisten. Escaped to Hellquill after the revolution. When Hellquill and our revolutionary Longsword went to war, he had been able to secure himself the position of a commander in Hellquill's army"

"Being Reformisten alone wouldn't coax this much hate from you." Handler noted.

Abba nodded. "We were able to destroy a strategic object during that time; a tunnel. It was claimed by Hellquill to have been used only for civilians, but in reality was one of the most important assets for Hellquill's army at the time. Transported equipment by the hour to the front lines. We were able to sabotage it and cause a cave-in. Getting wind of this, this trash ordered missiles on Longsword cities. Specifically, he ordered them to strike residential areas, to maximize civilian casualties. Claimed each of those territories were military targets, too." He explained.

The changeling smiled at the griffon as he begged for his life; neither of the two paid much attention to it. "A rotten apple, it seems. At-least to those who have a sense of morality or justice."

"You have neither?" Abba asked.

The Handler shook his head. "No. Not in my line of work, Abba. At the least however, once I do questionable things, I merely opt not to comment. On the other hand, committing acts of slaughter while trying to present yourself as the force of "good" just means you're in denial. It's like every other shitbag - entering another country on the pretense of conducting some sort of special military operation to then practice genocide - and then try your best to use subversion and propaganda to gaslight the world into believing you're right."

"So you do have a sense of justice?" Abba tilted his head.

The changeling shrugged. "In a way. I'd trust a wicked bastard who gloats about being a wicked bastard - over a wicked bastard who tries to claim he's the hero."

"Hm." Abba smiled, watching the griffon punch the ground, cracking his own talons.

"About business." Handler coughed.

"Yes." Abba nodded. "I heard Jet Set is to meet Starry. If our governmental cooperation is ensured, it's a boon. But if not - no issue. Either way, I've made arrangements."

"I am surprised you're so eager to agree." The Handler noted.

The pony turned his head to the changeling. "Daybreaker is a carbon copy of the Reformisten. I do not care what race is being oppressed - discrimination of any kind is a blight upon our world. That's why I very well remember the day when Starry Night recognized that Posniaks deserve rights. I knew I made the right choice in following her, because as much as I do not hold much love towards them, I respect Starry's maturity, respect, and benevolence."

"What don't you like so much about them, if I may ask?" The Handler rose a brow.

"It's not pleasant to have your back turned to you." Abba simply said. "Besides this - I have reasons to believe that the Solarists are taking an active role in destabilizing this region. They're fanning the flames to the Prywhen-Stalliongrad problem, that much I can tell." Abba turned back to the griffon. "So, therefore - I can guarantee the cooperation of our clandestine forces, at the very least. I'm getting the personnel on board, they're finishing up their duties down south."

"The S.I.B. and the VSS? Wouldn't have believed it years ago." The Handler laughed.

"The Vartai State Security isn't getting involved." Abba coldly answered.

"Eh?"

"You'll see." Abba smiled. "Let's think of it as a surprise."

"Right." The Handler coughed. "You know how to contact me. I suppose I'll take my leave. Have fun with the, er...rotisserie chicken."

"That we will. Take care, Handler." Abba said, giving him a slight wave, and turning back to the prisoner, before giving a whistle.

As the Handler walked off to his motorcycle, he could very well hear the sounds of blood-curling screaming, meat and bones tearing, and the obnoxious sound of struggling truck engines; before after more screams and gurgles...a snap; and a smell of iron in the air.

***

The mare nervously stared at the phone. She took a long time calculating risks. Calculating the odds and the risks - the payoff and the dangers.

She knew the number - she had privacy. The question was - to call, or not.

She nervously took off her glasses with a shaky hoof, and kept staring at the phone.

On one hand - safety, and a potential to live life with a comfortable, albeit demanding job, yet forced to see the world burn away...

Or a chance to do her part to save the world - yet play with the concept of death itself...

Yet at the potential of seeing her employer once more, to see the mare that she admired and followed for years - just one more time...

She took a deep breath...And started to dial the number.