iSpy

by SwordTune

Rating: teen
Tags: Thriller, Equestria Girls, Micro Chips, Human, Timber Spruce, Twilight Sparkle (EqG), Slice of Life, Dark
Length: 1451

Twilight is a fascinating person, and anyone who knows her would naturally be curious to get a closer look at what makes a girl like her tick: likes, dislikes, habits, and interests. But how close is too close? Will you cross the line?

Twilight is a fascinating person, and anyone who knows her would naturally be curious to get a closer look at what makes a girl like her tick: likes, dislikes, habits, and interests. No one is merely who they present on the outside, and the complexities that lie beneath might shock you. But how close is too close? Will you cross the line?

Published 2024-02-29 21:50:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-02-29 21:50:00 UTC

iSpy

Hey, need me to do anything else for the project?

No, I got it. What’s the file name btw?

It’s the only file on the drive.

K, gr8. Ttyl.

>run iSpy.exe

Twilight plugs in the flash drive.

Her dorm room isn’t what you’d expect. A Polaroid collage of all her friends hangs on one wall. On the other is a screen for a projector. On her bookshelf is a cassette player and speaker. She has posters for Nas and Immortal Technique. If you got to know her, she’d open up about how complex lyrical rap can be. Her favorites are Rewind and Dance with the Devil.

Twilight’s a little messy. She keeps herself neat and organized but everything outside her workspace is hit or miss. A pile of jeans sits crumpled next to her closet. Notebooks and homework papers are crumpled into old shoeboxes.

She sleeps in her chair in between bouts of hyper-focus. Redbull is her fuel. There are a few cans under her desk. Saturday then Sunday, it’s like she doesn’t know how to relax. She works until it is late and her room grows dark and stuffy but a standing fan keeps the air moving. Her clothes stick to her in the spring heat until she dresses down to sleeveless crop tops and shorts.

Her hair rolls down to the middle of her back. When she bothers to brush it out, or else she keeps it up in a bun. When she’s finally done with her work and emails the project file, that’s when she gets ready to unwind. Her clothes come off, adding to the pile just out of frame, and a purple towel goes around her chest as she leaves to take a shower.

She doesn’t return until it’s late, after dinner, and time to sleep.

Hey Twi.

Hey Chips. What’s up?

Just wanted to say it was nice working on a project with you.

It’s nice to know someone else cares about this stuff.

Totally!
I’m used to doing most of the work on group projects.
This time it was fun.

Hey, are you busy this weekend?

I have a shift at the computer store but I get off right before lunch.

They just expanded the food court at the mall.

We could eat. Talk about stuff. Get to know each other?

I’m going hiking with my bf this weekend. How bout another time?

Yeah. Sure.

Just lmk when you’re free.

On Saturday she wakes up late after reading research papers all night for fun. China made a new nuclear battery. That’s cool. Neuroengineering researchers can propose new transistors based on neural architecture. Interesting.

Twilight kicks her blanket off and stretches in the warm sunlight from her window. She puts earbuds on and listens to music while she gets up to brush her teeth, then comes back with a bagel in her mouth. Before she’s done eating, her phone rings.

She picks it up. “Timber!”

Who is that?

Suddenly, Twilight looks out her window down at something and then waves. “Sorry, I overslept. Gimme a sec and I’ll be down.”

She starts brushing her hair, smoothing out the headphone knots until her hair starts to look like silk. Dressing down to her plain light-gray underwear, she throws on a pink t-shirt and baby blue cargo shorts, then wraps a thin jacket around her slender waist. She applies a dab of lipstick and eyeshadow. From her closet she puts on a big hiking backpack and leaves.

The afternoon passes. Evening comes too. Without her the full view of her dorm takes on a new light. Orange and then pink, the sun dashes different colors on her posters and new details pop out. A coin glints on her bedside table. She won that in an academic decathlon last year. A hummingbird feeder that hangs outside her window, almost out of frame, attracts a few more visitors. An automated vacuum rolls through her room siphoning dust off the carpet. It avoids her messy clothes and junk because she’s that good at building it.

Even in her absence things are going on in her room, because that’s the kind of girl Twilight is. You’d need to know her to see how she sees the world and thinks ahead.

Time flies in Twilight’s dorm without her. It’s interesting, but the life of it is her. It’s Sunday evening when Twilight finally comes back, hair ruffled and skin sticky with sweat. A bra strap slides loose as she’s standing by her desk, peeling the dust and dirt-covered shirt off and tossing it aside. She turns her fan on and stands there motionless.

The moment lasts for just a few seconds only, but it’s enough to read the story on her skin. There are scrapes on her knee and elbow that weren't there before, and a few bug bites on her calf. Twilight shakes up her hair and brushes out the knots, though a weekend out hiking has made it frazzled. She put her hair up in her classic bun, and on her neck is a bruise.

No, not a bruise. A hickey?

That’s not like Twilight. Where did it come from? That’s not like her.

“Where should I put your bag?” asks a voice from a shadow just out of frame.

Suddenly she turns with excitement and pulls the figure closer. “Just leave it,” she says as a burly guy with sun-kissed skin, arms like tree branches, and wild, wavy hair pushes his way into her room. His expression changes from curiosity to surprise as Twilight tugs on his shirt collar. Twilight pulls him over her as they fall onto her bed, her mouth is agape in a breathy gasp and her soft, tender fingers clutch his greenish hair. His hand reaches under her shirt.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks.

“The other girls are out of town for the weekend.” She kisses him. “We have the place to ourselves.” He kisses her back. And they fall on her bed.

Her phone pings with a new message.

Hey Twilight.

…

I just remembered you still have my flash drive.

I need it for something.

But she doesn’t notice. That’s also not like her. None of this is like her. Even if she has a boyfriend, she’s not the type to do that. Her body is a temple, not something anyone can just come on to. You have to know her better. But this man on her bed takes off his shirt and there is a deer tattoo spread across his meaty back. Its antlers flex as he reaches around her to take off her shirt next, and he smooths his hands over the sides of her no one can unless they really know her.

They’re interrupted when her phone rings, but Twilight sees it and just says, “Leave it, it’s probably not important.”

He looks at the phone. “You sure? Who’s Micro?”

“A classmate. It’s probably school stuff. It can wait.”

He chuckles. “School stuff can wait? Since when?” He squints and runs his finger along the screen. “Looks like he sent some messages too. Looks important.”

“Fine, lemme see.” Twilight sits up and takes her phone, reading.

Sorry Micro, but it’s late.
I’ll stop by the computer shop tomorrow to give it to you.

It’s kind of urgent.

Can I just drop by and pick it up?

I wanted to show you a new comic I found the other day anyway.

You mean come to my dorm?

She makes a face and recoils her head from her phone. “What the heck?”

“Something wrong?” asks the strange boyfriend.

“Look at this.” Twilight points to the last message. “How does he know I’m back?”

He shrugs. “Coincidence?”

Oh right, you’re out of town.

So you’re not back yet?

Her pretty eyes are scary now. “Nothing’s that perfect.” Twilight looks up from her phone and around her dorm now, quickly tossing on a semi-dirty t-shirt from the top of her pile. Then she goes to her computer and executes a virus scan—her own design, flawless and hyperspeed. The iSpy does not stand a chance.

Twilight, wait. Let me explain.

“Holy fucking shit.” Her pretty eyes are scary now, pupils dilated in a fight or flight response. “How long? How long have you—” Like a supercomputer her mind whirls. “Oh no… God no, don’t tell me it was the project. For months, Micro?”

You’re always so closed off. I just wanted to get to know you.

She looks down at her phone with disgust and doesn’t say a word. With a few keystrokes the video feed cuts off.

>quit()

And I’m left with nothing but a blank screen.