Chaos Redacted

The Evening Watch. Known publicly as a strangely themed café on the edge of Canterlot’s wealthy district, but secretly one of the biggest Redacted Corporation branches in Equestria, built underneath the café and in the depths of the Canterhorn mountain.

Inside were hallways lined with forest green paneling and wood accents leading to the crowded offices of archivists and data collectors. It was the informational heart of Redacted, where the most important documents about Malformants were kept to keep Agents alive. That, however, was second to its primary goal of containing Feast Sin Malformants.

These were in a central hub room filled up primarily by interconnected unicorn enchanted glass tubing. The Feast Malformants were held inside, forced together by gales conjured by Pegasus magic and the constrictive size of the space. They devoured each other. An endless cycle of eating and being eaten. They died, they reformed, then repeated. A deadly dance of vulgarity and beauty.

Vapour Trail was fascinated by it.

“Alright!” Two wings clapped together. It drew her attention. “Listen up, recruits! We’ll be heading to the orientation room. Stay close, or I can’t guarantee your safety here.”

Their instructor, a large brown Pegasus with a blue mohawk and cocksure grin, cantered into the nearby hallways. She had to forcibly wrench her gaze from the Malformants’ containment unit to follow after alongside the other recruits.

She was unsure of her compatriots, unable to decide how she should act around them. One was a massive red stallion with a stern demeanor. Another was a curious Pegasus with a ghostly complexion. A third was a neon blue unicorn in punk apparel. Finally, there was—

“Can’t wait to take over this place.”

Vapour regarded her best friend Sky Stinger with skepticism.

“It’s our first day here, Sky,” Vapour said. “I don’t know if—”

“My ability will speak for itself.” He puffed up his dark blue chest, off-green lightning bolt mane pointing up as if to show his self asserted standing. “No one will be able to deny that I have talent.”

“Y-yeah.” She bit her lip, feeling guilt gnaw at her.

“Come on, Vapour.” He put a wing on her back, urging her forward. “I want to get there first!”

They galloped ahead.

“So how much do you all know about Redacted?”

The instructor scanned the small board room. A long table with six chairs arranged around it. A chalkboard was hung next to the instructor who fiddled idly with a piece of chalk in one wing.

One of the recruits raised their hoof.

“Yes, Big Mac?”

“Redacted exists to contain Malformants since we can’t kill’em and ensure they don’t escape,” the giant red stallion answered.

“Correct!” Their instructor pointed at Big Mac with the piece of chalk in their wing, a big grin on his face. “That is the core of why Redacted exists. A great segway into our first topic: the different main branches of Redacted.”

The instructor wrote down several words onto the board. Canterlot Castle Gardens, Evening Watch, Palace of Mirrors, The Tomb, Salt Lick Quarry, The Mires, Vain Galleria, and Vinyl Vibe Records.

“These are the 8 main branches of Redacted, excluding any foreign facilities or supplementary facilities such as the Lucky Bit Association in Stalliongrad. Each facility has a secondary function—”

“Like how the Evening Watch keeps records of all the other facilities?” The ghostly pegasus interrupted.

“Never interrupt me.” The instructor glared at the Pegasus, and they withered under his gaze. He held it for a seemingly endless span of time before he was back to his usual smile. “But yes! Every facility serves another purpose besides Malformant containment and helps to facilitate the continued operations of the corporation.

“Evening Watch is indeed for record keeping, but also agent training. Canterlot Castle Gardens is central command, Mirror Palace is for drug development, The Tomb is reconnaissance and censorship, Salt Lick Quarry makes our weapons, The Mires is for on-field strategy, Vain Galleria is storage and research, and, finally, Records is communication and public image.

“Even as Agents, one of these facilities will be made your home base and you’ll be tasked with assisting them in their day-to-day operations when you aren’t in the field.”

“Can we choose where we work?” the unicorn asked.

“Yes!” The instructor replied cheerfully.

“Which do you recommend we go for, then?”

“None of them.”

The instructor had answered in the same upbeat cheerfulness, and it took a second for the recruits to process his response. When they did, they all awkwardly stared at their instructor, not knowing how to respond.

“But if you had to—” he circled several facilities on the board “—these are the ones you can choose from.”

Vapour noted the locations. The Evening Watch, Mirror Palace, The Mires, and Vain Galleria were highlighted.

“Why those places?” The ghostly pegasus asked. “What if we wanted to work at Vinyl Vibe Records?”

“Zebra-only facility with some exceptions,” the instructor replied. “Their containment method requires their unique magic to function.”

Sky snorted.

“Do you have a problem with that?” the instructor asked.

“Zebras don’t have magic,” Sky said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Not like ponies.”

The instructor stared at Sky for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You’re right. They aren’t like ponies.” He smiled again, tapping the board with his marker. “The other locations are also species-locked to some degree. Salt Lick Quarry only takes Earth Ponies and Diamond Dogs, Canterlot Castle Gardens only takes a very select few Earth Ponies, and The Tomb is just off-limits to the majority of Redacted employees. It’s handled by ponies in the Badlands, and they don’t like meddlesome recruits poking their noses around in there.”

“Why’s that?” Big Mac asked.

“Why’s what?” The instructor responded.

“The Badlands facility inaccessible to most personnel?”

The instructor shrugged. “Some agreement with Director Inkwell, which, speaking of—” He pointed his piece of chalk at the group “—did you read about the Directors of Redacted in your orientation packet?”

Everyone looked askance, except Vapour. She knew the answer, but was too afraid to speak up. Sky noticed and jabbed her with a wing. He jerked his head toward the front of the room with a nod of encouragement.

“…Castle Gardens is run by Director Inkwell, who also is the Head of the Organization barring Princess Celestia,” Vapour began. “Director Riot runs the Quarry, Director Introversion runs the Palace, Director Watch runs the Mires, Director Pie runs the Evening Watch, Director Picturesque runs the Galleria, Director Johari runs Vinyl Vibe Records, and, um—” Vapour bit her lip “—Director Monolith runs the Tomb?”

“All correct. Well done, Recruit Trail.” The instructor beamed at her. “I’m glad to see someone read the booklet.”

Vapour allowed herself a small bit of pride.

“Now, what do you do if you come across a Director?” The instructor asked. He raked his eyes across the room. “Anyone?”

“…Salute?” The unicorn provided.

“Get out of their way and do your job,” the instructor answered. “Barring Princess Celestia in a public setting, you should never interact directly with a Director unless they address you. If you have business with them, you should be going through their assistants, like myself in the case of the evening Watch or whichever dragon has been assigned to them.

“The Directors have been granted numerous abilities and privileges that allow them to readily handle any situation that arises in regards to the Malformants they preside over. Getting in their way for even a second can equate to the loss of hundreds if not thousands of lives.”

He leaned forward, pressing his hooves into the table. He affixed a stern expression on his face as he appeared to tower over them. Vapour felt pinned to her seat, unable to move.

“Always remember that the Malformant threat is dangerous,” the instructor continued. “Hesitation or mistakes could cost lives, including yours. Bear that responsibility in mind going forward.”

The recruits stood up a bit straighter, attempting to take on the invisible burden that had just been given to them. Vapour felt its crushing weight as she desperately hoped to be able to carry it.

“Well, that’s all for now. Before you head back to the dorms, let’s do some introductions. State your name, a bit about yourself and any special abilities you might have.” He gestured to himself with a wing. “Name’s Assistant Director Spearhead and I’ll be your trainer. I work closely with Director Pie and primarily run the café upstairs as my office. You next,” he gestured toward the unicorn.

“Disco Tech. Aspiring researcher for the Galleria. In terms of abilities, uh, I guess I’m really good at finding rhythms?” He shrugged.

“Not those kinds of abilities,” Spearhead said. “Continue.”

“Skylark,” the ghostly pegasus said. “Aiming for a high position to give those Malformants a good wallop to the head. In terms of abilities, not really sure what you mean.”

“He means this,” Big Mac said.

Wooden branches erupted from the floor, growing along the walls and embedding themselves in the floors.

“Big MacIntosh Apple. From Ponyville. My Granny was an Agent and passed on her Trauma to me, Ancestral Tree.”

Creaks and groans echoed in the room as the branches moved. Vapour presumed it was some form of greeting.

Skylark and Disco Tech had jumped out of their seats and gotten into fighting stances, the prior with their wings flared, and the latter with their horn aglow. Sky and Vapour stayed in their seats.

“Sir!” Skylark called out. “We have to—”

“Relax. It’s not a Malformant, it’s a Trauma. Different things,” Spearhead said. “Malformants are invaders, Traumas are formed from ponies themselves. You can return to your seats.”

Skylark and Disco reluctantly sat back down.

“Now, does anyone else have a Trauma to show off?” Spearhead offered.

“Yeah, I got one,” Sky Stinger declared. “Name’s Sky Stinger and my Trauma is Flux.”

Purple electricity crackled off of Sky, scorching the table and the shag carpeting. Acrid smoke smelling of Burnt wood and fibers filled the room.

“Interesting. We’ll test it out more later then. You?”

Spearhead nodded at Vapour.

She wasn’t ready. Her concentration was focused on something else.

“Vapour Trail,” Spearhead said. There was a coldness to his voice.

Startled, Vapour quickly answered, “Vapour Trail. I-I’m a friend of Sky and here to support him.”

There was a reply. She nodded, hoping that was the correct response as she could barely hear anything through her intense focus. That seemed to be the right response. She couldn’t hear it over the roar of her Trauma, Flux.

The one Sky pretended to have.