//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Dominator // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// Redheart lounged on a sidewalk bench in Neighton with a newspaper in front of her. Across the street was a small post office. The postboxes with their locking doors were mounted to the outside of the wall so customers could come by to collect their mail at any time of the day. While pretending to read the newspaper, Redheart was surreptitiously keeping an eye on box number 53. Caricature had contacted her after a few days. The message slipped under the door of her apartment during the night was simple. Observe who collects the mail from box 53 at the Neighton 15th street post office on Friday afternoon. She had Friday afternoon off, and it worried Redheart that he knew her work schedule. Still, more money had been promised, and collecting a description of the pony who showed up to get the mail shouldn’t be too hard. It was nearly autumn, and the trees were beginning to change color. The Ponyville Running of the Leaves would be held soon. Redheart was glad she had brought a hooded sweatshirt. It used to be red, but years of use had faded it to a rose color. She wore her mane down and had left her usual uniform hat at home. On the bench, she carefully brushed a few strands of her tail with a hoof, covering her cutie mark. Perhaps she was being paranoid. Then again, Redheart didn’t know what she might be getting herself into, and it paid to be prepared. The local paper held the same news as the Ponyville Gazette, although being a different kind of printing than Redheart was used to kept her attention for a while. As the afternoon wore on, she was began to grow tired of rereading it. She wished that she’d brought her craft supplies. Another reason that she was good at stitching was because she did a lot of it on her personal time. Nurse Tenderheart’s birthday was coming up, and Redheart was thinking about making her a scarf or a decorative cross stitch. A pale blue mare with a streaky purple mane stopped by the mail boxes. Redheart had gotten her hopes up a few times already, but this time it was the right pony. She watched the mare open the box. Her cutie mark appeared to be some kind of fruit. Well, that was all Redheart needed. Finished with her obligation, she folded the newspaper and got up. There was a market just down the street, and she wanted to have a look. She held herself back, though. She’d been on a budget ever since making up her mind to start a savings fund for medical school. Redheart did not want to be a nurse forever. The extra money she was now earning would let her spend a little more freely, or it could be used to get her M.D. faster. Redheart knew which choice she preferred. Still, the restaurant just down the street had been driving her nose crazy since she’d been waiting on the bench. Perhaps a late lunch was worth a few bits. Redheart went inside. A few minutes later she had almost decided on what to eat. The mare with the mail came in. Redheart lowered her head a little behind the menu. The pony she had been watching was led to a nearby table by the waiter. He addressed her as Ms. Blueberry. After seating her, the waiter stopped to take Redheart’s order. Blueberry did not seem to recognize Redheart, which boosted the nurse’s confidence a little. She took a moment to think about her extracurricular employment. Caricature had indicated that medical issues would not be her primary task. Watching somepony pick up mail was about as far from healthcare as it could be. She couldn’t imagine why he couldn’t do these small tasks himself, but decided that if he was willing to pay, she was willing to toil. Her food came, and Redheart dug in. It was good enough that she was glad that she had decided to spend a little money. After eating, she headed for the train station. When she returned to Ponyville later in the day, Caricature was inside her apartment. He’d even relocked the door so she didn’t realize his presence until she met him face-to-face in the hallway. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “I’ve come to get your report.” Redheart gave him a description of the mare, including her name. The extra information seemed to impress Caricature. He paid her. “Give us a few days and we’ll have something else for you.” She nodded and the stallion let himself out. Redheart took off her sweatshirt and sat down at the kitchen table. Maybe this extra work wouldn’t be so bad after all. Caricature was frightening, but he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, would he? He seemed to know everything about her, so he probably understood her limits and wouldn't assign her something she couldn't handle. + Two days passed before Caricature dropped another message under Redheart’s door. The envelope contained a key and an address. The instructions were short. Visit the scene and observe as much as possible. Hope you have a strong stomach. That last sentence had Redheart worried all day. As she waited for her shift at the hospital to end, she wondered what it could possibly mean. At least there was a little bit of entertainment to take her mind away for a while. A dull-looking brown stallion with a guitar sat in the waiting room for a while. Redheart didn’t know who he was there for, but he wasn’t a bad player. The music helped her calm down a little. She was still humming a little snatch of music as she boarded the train for Neighton. As the trip progressed, she began to wonder again about what she would find in the city. Having no idea where to find the address she had been given, Redheart stopped to ask at the post office where she had been before. The house in question was a few blocks down the street. Redheart made a slow pass by the place, not seeing anypony. The key she carried in the pocket of her sweatshirt was labeled back door, which was good. No point in attracting too much attention. Once again, she wondered why Caricature didn’t just do the job himself, especially if he had such easy access. She circled around and approached the back of the house that faced a narrow alley. After a quick check to make sure nopony was looking, Redheart slipped up to the door. The key fit perfectly, and she went inside. The house was still. Redheart realized that she was trespassing, amazed that the thought hadn’t occurred to her sooner. Perhaps being told to do it made the act easier to rationalize. Heart thudding in her chest, she slowly advanced. There was a dead pony on the living room floor. His face was blue, eyes wide with terror. The marks on his neck indicated strangulation. It was probably done with some kind of thin wire, cutting into the skin and leaving a little blood. Well, it wasn’t a pleasant sight, but Redheart had seen worse. She sighed with relief and headed for another room… …where there were four more ponies. In pieces. There was blood everywhere. Some arterial spray had even gotten on the ceiling. Redheart stared openmouthed. “Sweet Celestia…” She blinked after a moment and collected herself. There was still a job to do. She examined the wounds. It was hard to say exactly what had caused them. The slices and torn flesh were an odd mix. Perhaps some kind of serrated blade? Redheart didn’t know what else it might be. To cleave limbs like that, it must have been a very nasty weapon. Who had access to such things or training to use them? Redheart’s first thought was the Royal Guard, but they didn’t do things like this, especially inside Equestria. Right? Despite seeing many new things in the carnage, she was left with more questions than answers. With so much blood covering everything, it would be hard to identify the victims by sight. Redheart narrowed her eyes as she spotted something familiar and gingerly stepped forward to confirm it. One of the ponies, a mare, had a blueberry cutie mark. Looking carefully, Redheart discovered that she had merely been stabbed with a small, smooth blade. The knife lay beside her, and the body seemed to be positioned carefully in the center of a rug. It was much different than the violent end the others had met. Redheart walked through the rest of the house. There were a few suitcases in the process of being packed. She found a set of keys with the number 53 on them. Beside the keyring was a small stack of mail that had already been opened. Rifling through the letters, she found a rather short one that made her gasp in surprise. Leave now, or else – Dominator! After one more careful look at the house, Redheart left. She locked the door and hastily made for the train station as the late afternoon sun was begining to set. Her mind was moving quickly, trying to figure out what had happened. She tried to put everything in order. Blueberry appeared to be the victim of premeditated murder. Her death had been quick and careful, and the old noir cliché of rolling the body up in the carpet appeared to fit. The other three ponies had been killed some time later. Their blood was on Blueberry’s body. Whoever had killed them had used a much different method than whoever killed the mare, making Redheart think it wasn’t the same pony. There was also the problem of the strangled stallion. Redheart was not a mortician, and unable to precisely determine time of death, but she doubted there was more than a day between all five murders. Lastly, how did Dominator fit in? The letter had been a warning. Had Dominator caused all that? Was it the name of some elite group of killers? Something else? Judging by the suitcases, the ponies had been trying to heed the letter’s guidance, but hadn’t been fast enough. That opened a new can of spaghetti. Who had warned them? Why? Were the dead ponies bad criminals or good ponies? What about Dominator? Redheart boarded the train, mind still working. The next time Caricature showed himself, she was going to ask him some tough questions.