//------------------------------//
// 1: Pieces 
// Story: Broken Gears 
// by TheFoxern 
//------------------------------//

It was an oddly painful feeling with the connection severed. Severed was the only word that Copper could think of that justified his feeling. Like a part of him was hacked off, as if he had lost something that he would never get back. He wouldn't get it back. He could never get it back and that was a crushing feeling. An entire life gone in an instance. And now the thoughts were pushing in. Without the other world, without his other self, his real self, the thoughts and past of this body were pushing on him. Clawing at the back door of his mind. Now there was nothing to prove it had all happened. It was just a dream.

“Are you all right?” Scootaloo's voice brought him back from his thoughts. He had forgotten where they were going. There was concern in her eyes, the kind of worry that Copper had taken for granted several times.

“I'm...fine. I think,” he said as he stared off down the street. “Is it always so foggy?”

“This time of year, I think.” They had been walking through a fairly light fog, but it limited their sight to a few blocks away. “But it's been a while since I've been here.”

London was an odd city, unlike something Copper had seen yet familiar. It was quite lively during the day, but this early in the morning it was quite quiet. The sun had not even risen yet. Only a car coming by every so often even gave the hint that they were not the only ones there. It was peaceful. An odd shudder ran down his spine as they turned a corner and the fog was a bright yellow red. “That's a fire,” Copper said as he immediately started jogging.

“Is that-” They saw the blaze now, the entire building engulfed in flames. There was, what Copper learned later, a fire truck outside and several firefighters who were trying to control the blaze and keep it from spreading to other buildings. 

Copper couldn't pull his eyes from it. The flames. The heat. The fire. The crackling noise of wood. Flashes of things hit his consciousness. The distant sound of explosions. He shook his head and tried to focus. For a moment he saw a little filly, standing beside him. Covered in soot and blood with terrified eyes. He blinked and the vision was replaced by Scootaloo, who was staring at the flames. There was an ache on his back; a painfully vacant feeling as though he'd just lost something important.

He shook himself and took several deep breaths as he looked around. He spotted the old pony who worked in the building, he was leaning against the back of the truck, covered in soot and wrapped in a blanket. Copper rushed towards him, trying to seek a distraction from these clawing memories. “What happened?” Copper said as he came up to him. The old pony had been kind during the brief interaction they had had. He was polite, even though it was obviously forced.

“D-don't know,” he said and coughed. “Building just...was going up in flames...some firefighter pulled me out...” Copper knew the pony was in shock, he'd seen it before.

“Where's Emily?” Copper said slowly, trying to pull the pony's attention.

“Just...all up in flames.” There was a far away look in his eyes.

“Focus.” Copper tried to get in the the gaze. “Emily. Where is Emily?”

“Heat and flames...”

He rushed the building. There were screams of, “Stop!” and, “What are you doing?!”

The door was wide open and the flames lapped around him as he ran through the building. He knew where Emily was being stored, across the building in a back storeroom. Something collapsed in a room as he ran past and he rounded the last corner to find the door open. The door had been locked. The pony had said he always kept it locked. The room was burned worse than the rest as though it had been the source of the flames, but the fire had run out of things to burn. Something skittered across the floor as he moved to where Emily was. 

He stopped and crouched down, covering his mouth with his coat to keep from breathing more smoke. Bits of hot metal covered the floor. Part of a broken gear had somehow managed to avoid being melted in the heat. When he looked around a shelf he saw more pieces of metal, most of it melted. He stood slowly, his mind working quickly through all of the likely possibilities. “Await retrieval...” Copper muttered as he stared at the destroyed heap of a machine. 

The noise of skittering pieces of metal behind him caused him to turn, and what he saw caused him to leap back as a long blade lashed through the air. It was pony in shape and size, but metallic. Its assault did not stop as it came at him again, swiping and slashing. It was far more graceful than Emily had been, smooth and fluid motions. Copper would have enjoyed watching it move if it was not trying its hardest to stab him. He ducked and kicked out the bottom of the shelf at his side, which due to its fire weakened state collapsed between him and the clockwork. The clockwork took several steps back. 

“What model Emily are you?” Copper asked, obviously seeing similarities in appearance to the Emily he had studied.

It remained silent. 

“Rewriting your database on me? Or taking notes?” He was trying to work out a way to defend himself. “I'll make you a deal, tell me your model and I'll tell you who I am.”

“You are Copper Feather,” the clockwork said. The voice caught him off guard, it was far more musical than Emily's had been. It was moving from left to right as it calculated angles. Copper knew it was doing that because he was doing the same.

“Ah, yes. Technically I am.” He set his feet, having figured out his course of action. “But I'm a completely different kind of pony than the Copper in your little file.” He rushed forward, leaping over the ruins of the shelf. He spun to his right as the knife thrust at where he would be if he kept going and he barreled into the clockwork. It went down oddly easily; it was built light like the other Emily. He regained his balance quickly and slammed his heel down, crushing the area just above the elbow of the knife hand. It had underestimated him.

“Error-” There was a hiss from the arm as it tried to move it and he slammed his heel down again on the clockworks chest, causing it to collapse inward. That's where its main engine was; what was keeping it going. “E-error...” It was twitching, trying to move as steam escaped from cracks in its chest. Immediately he felt immense regret. It was a beautiful piece of machinery and he felt horrible for what he had just done to it.

“Tell me your model number and why you destroyed the Emily Mark Twelve Point Five Version B.” It stared at him with an expression that Copper couldn't figure out if it was simulated fear or actual fear.

“Emily Mark F-Fifteen Point Th-Three... Mission O-Objective...Eliminate f-failed m-m-model.” He could see the damage to its inner workings was done and it was dying.

He reached down, placing his hand against her cheek with a tenderness that surprised even him. The metal was hot to the touch, as if she had a fever. Someone had taken immense care to mold every feature and curve of her face. Her eyes slowly lost the light that they had, winking out. 

Something crashed above him and without thinking he scooped up the Emily and ran. He hit the corner a tad hard and felt the wall buckle when he hit it and something else crumbled as he ran. It was a straight shot to the door and he could see it open. The air was cold and burned as he exited. He shook himself as he walked back over to the firetruck and laid the Emily down beside it. There were quite a lot of people around him. “Am I on fire?” he asked as he checked himself, slightly out of breath and coughing quite a bit. As far as he could tell he was just a bit charred and covered in soot.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Scootaloo screamed as she pounded on his chest. “That is a burning building! A burning building, Copper! On fire!” He grabbed her wrists gently to stop her from hitting him.

“I know.” He looked down at her, several figures were looking down at the new Emily. “I think that's what started the fire.”

One of the griffons gave a whistle. “Now that's a fancy clockwork.” He nudged it with his foot. “Is it dead?”

“Broken and off,” Copper said as Scootaloo pulled away from him, folding her arms and walked a bit away. Copper made sure to keep an eye on her. "So yes, dead."

“You know a lot about clockworks, American?” Of course his accent, or lack there of, was obvious.

“Yes, that's why I'm here. It's illegal over there, so I have to come here to do any real research.” Copper knelt down beside the Emily, looking it over. 

“Ever seen one this complicated?” The fire was apparently under control, since several of the firefighters were here asking him questions. 

“Yes, one other. Though this one appears to be a newer model...” Copper felt that there were a lot more ponies around than when he had gone into the building. “Scootaloo, come over here.”

She gave him an annoyed look, but didn't argue as she came over. “What?”

“This is a Mark Fifteen. Notice anything different about it?” She glared down at the clockwork, her brow furrowed. “Focus on the face.”

“It's...different,” she said and then leaned in a bit. 

“She's more expressive. Why would somepony spend so much time on a clockworks expression, when it's built to kill?” He lifted up the wrist, it was the exact same design of retractable blade and with a slight twist there was a loud shink. The crowd backed away. “Same blade design...odd...”

“Your Detective side is showing,” she said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. 

That made him smile. “Yes well, I am a Detective, more or less.” 

“Without jurisdiction around here,” Scootaloo added as the crowd looked at Copper. “Isn't that right, Officer?”

“Quite right.” Copper looked up at the pony who was speaking, immediately recognizing the officer who had come knocking at Roseluck's shop. “Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Private Detective.”

“This is where I was staying,” Copper said as he stood up, dusting off a bit of soot. 

“A warehouse...why am I not surprised. Where's your Interpol buddy, hm?” The officer looked around.

“I'm afraid he had other business to attend to,” he said as he watched the officer. There were quite a lot of police there he noticed.

“I'm sure he did... So what's this about you thinking this clockwork started the fire?” The officer was now leaning down and examining Emily.

“I had one similar to it in my possession.” Copper felt it would not be wise to try and hide anything, this pony could be quite helpful. “I was attempting to track down its creator, who I was informed was in London.”

“And why are you so fixed on finding the creator?” 

He saw the look Scootaloo gave him out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. “Attempted murder and kidnapping.” The officer stared up at him, quite shocked. Copper pulled back his shirt a bit, revealing the stab wound, which was still healing. “The other one had attempted to kill me in order to kidnap my associate here.” He gestured to Scootaloo as he fixed his shirt. “Frankly, I take things like that rather personally.”

“Rrrriiight. Well...I'm afraid that we're going to have to take you two and your...clockwork into custody.” The officer stood up and Copper saw how several of them moved towards him.

“Oh of course, if you must. Though it quite honestly will be a waste of time on everyponies part. Is that your car there?” Copper gestured at one of the police cars.

The officer didn't look away. “Yes, after you.” 

Copper sat down in the car and moved over so that Scootaloo could get in as well. She gave his shoulder a rather hard hit. “Way to go. Now we've been arrested and our passports went up in flames in that building! Not to mention all of our stuff. My clothes, Copper. All of my clothes went up in flames!”

“Clothes can be replaced.” He gazed out the window and around the area. “This is our chance to get out of here and I'm going to take it.” They were loading the clockwork into another vehicle. He hoped they would make it to the police station. “We're in the Creators territory now and I wouldn't be surprised if there are more clockworks in the area.” The officer got into the car. “So just sit back, and enjoy the ride,” he said as he gave Scootaloo a smile.

It was obvious that she was unhappy. “Chrysalis is not going to be happy about you getting arrested,” she said with a loud harrumph. Copper noticed how the second officer in the car seemed to flinch ever so slightly.

“Oh I'm not worried about her.” He watched the back of the two ponies as the car took off. “All it'll take is one phone call and we'll be fine. You have his number, right?”

“Who- oh.” She smiled slightly. “Yeah I know his number.” She suddenly seemed to feel a lot more comfortable about the situation. 

Copper leaned forward, mumbling to the passenger officer as the other was preoccupied with the car radio, talking to someone back at the station. “If you'd be so kind, dear changeling, to contact Chrysalis and inform her of our predicament,” Copper watched as the pony went rigid as he spoke, “I would very much appreciate it.” It felt like second nature to Copper to be able to pick them out of crowds. Then leaned back in the seat as he watched the passenger officer practically melt into his seat, the driver didn't seem to notice. “I do hope it's not far. Hopefully it doesn't take too long, right Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo was staring blankly out the window. “You owe me an entire wardrobe after this.”

“An expensive one?” he asked with a smile.

“Extremely.”

~
They were interrogating Scootaloo first. He wasn't sure how that was going, but he assumed poorly; for them. He had told her to simply tell the truth, as it would have no consequence in the end. He took deep, slow breaths. They had offered him tea, or coffee, but he didn't want to be awake. With his eyes closed he managed to drift off to sleep. It always paid to have a backup plan.

His dreamscape had altered so much since he had lost the other world. It was more tailored to this world now. For a brief moment he almost tried to get Luna's attention. But she didn't know him here, and he wasn't even sure if she went into dreams in this world. So he decided on his second choice. “Nightmare? You available for a chat?”

“For you?” She was sitting in the air behind him. “I'm more than available...”

He chuckled softly as he sat down as well, it didn't matter if he was sitting on anything or not. “Good to hear. So, how fast could you get to London?”

“Oh? You're there already? You're in quite a hurry to go places...aren't you, dear Copper?” She floated towards him.

There was a loud snap and Copper's eyes opened, staring at the two ponies in front of him. He looked down at the large file that was on the table in front of him. “Morning,” he said with a yawn and a stretch. “Sorry, didn't get much sleep last night.”

“Yes, I'm sure you didn't.” Copper had an odd feeling he knew the white pony in front of him. A black splotch over the side of his face was a fairly memorable feature. “It took quite a while to track your goings on as of late, Mr. Feather.”

Copper frowned slightly. “Please, call me Copper if you're not going to use one of my proper titles.” He felt oddly relaxed considering the situation.

“And what sort of titles do you have, Mr. Feather.”

“Detective. Or Sergeant is another good one, though I prefer Detective.” Copper waited for the other pony to interpose but he remained silent.

The splotched one gave him a smirk. “Oh we know all about your military days, and your days as a Detective. But our records show that you quit quite a long time ago. Self employed and as far as records go, broke. You've been living off your money from the military and from the police force. So, hitting other countries since you can't make any money in yours, Mr. Feather?”

“A private Detective, is still a Detective. Now, are you going to continue to berate and insult me, or are you actually going to ask me relevant questions? I'm sure that you're quite a busy pony, you and your silent associate, and I for one know that I'm quite busy so please stop wasting both our time with this petty inquiry.” There was actually a hint of annoyance on the ponies face, bordering on anger.

Now the other pony chimed in. He was a soft beige color and was smaller than the splotched one. “Now now, we're not here to get anypony upset.”

“Well you've thoroughly flubbed any chance of that,” Copper said as he looked at the pony. There was no flinch, no sign of recoil. “Now if we could drop the whole 'Good Cop, Bad Cop' routine I'd like to go about my day. I've a clockwork to study.”

There seemed to be a relief of tension, subtle as it was, when the patched pony gave a loud harrumph and left the room. “Know a lot about clockwork?” the beige pony asked.

“A lot more than most I would guess. The one you have, hopefully still have, is the most advanced I've seen. According to it it's a Mark Fifteen, which I'm guessing it's the fifteenth model in some sort of line that the Creator has done. I studied from a Mark Thirteen. From what I saw, he has made vast improvements to his design.”

“Improvements? Damn...” The beige pony sat down opposite Copper, pulling out a notepad and pencil as he did. “We've been having trouble with a pony, or griffon, calling himself the Creator for five years now, though we expect that his exploits range decades. Even our experts in clockwork can't do a thing with what we've recovered in the past.”

“I do hope they're not messing about with the one I took down.” The pony raised an eyebrow at him. “They're deadly. No sense of life or death, so they attack quite ferociously.” He saw the pony lean over to a wall, which had an oddly mirrored surface on it and he tapped on it a few times. Copper thought this curious, but continued, “The Mark Thirteen 'Emily' stabbed me. I wasn't ready for the fight, but this time I was a bit more ready and the environment was more to my benefit. And I didn't have to worry about protecting Scootaloo.” Copper had this odd feeling that there was somepony behind him and he had to resist the urge to look.

“Yes, you mentioned that the earlier one was on a mission to capture her? She said the same but claims to have no knowledge of why.” The pony was taking little notes.

“I've been trying to figure it out...it said that somepony commissioned the Creator to capture her.” The ponies brow scrunched. “Things are very complicated, and I have very few leads.” Copper took a deep breath and stared at the light a moment. 

The splotched pony came back into the room with his arms folded. “What sort of leads?” he said, apparently he had stepped out to calm himself down but had still been listening.

“Well, Doctor Vonzinzer is the biggest one.” The two officers eyed each other.

“Why would you need to speak with that crackpot?” The splotched pony leaned against the wall beside the door. 

“I think he could give me some sort of direction. There are questions that I have.” The splotched pony laughed and Copper's brow wrinkled. “What's funny about that?”

“Oh if you ever get the chance to ask your questions, you'll find out.” Copper looked at the beige pony.

“Doctor Vonzinzer has never been one for questions...it's hard to explain without knowing the type of person he is.” The beige pony didn't even look up at Copper, taking notes. “But back to the clockwork. You have studied them, correct?”

“I have studied an earlier model, which was destroyed in the fire. But this new one seems more advanced in ways. I've spotted a few of the basic clockwork that walk around and none of them seem up to that level.” Copper was watching the pencil scratch away at the paper.

“Advanced clockwork tend to be kept inside. What exactly have you found out about them?” 

“The oddest thing that I found about it that there was no mark from the Creator marking it as something he had made. An artist always signs his work, but this Creator seems to either not care about it, or has put it into some place that cannot be reached without taking apart something crucial. Thanks to my knowledge of that older model though, I was able to cause this one to shutdown without too much damage.”

“How'd you do that?” the splotched pony was glaring at the notepad, it was apparent that he hated that scratching noise.

“The engine that keeps it going is a type of boiler. It has pipes laced throughout it's body, after I knocked it to the ground, I crushed the pipes in it's arm to disable it, and then crushed, and probably ruptured, the boiler in it's chest.” Copper felt like he had lost the splotched pony, but the beige one continued taking notes.

“So that will work on all models?”

“I believe so. How many have you seen?” Copper asked as he eyed the pony and he finally looked up.

“Personally I've seen nothing but pieces. They always escape, or we do not even see them. This is the first...'Emily' I've ever seen.” He set down the notepad, placing his pencil on top of it. “If I may ask you a personal question, Copper...why did you become a Detective?”

Copper had to think about it a moment, but he heard a voice over his shoulder and couldn't help but repeat it. “I still had a lot in me after I was dismissed from the military. I never aimed to become a Detective...it just worked out like that.”

“Then why did you leave?”

Again the voice, but this time he matched it rather than lagging behind it. “Scootaloo.”

“I don't understand why,” the splotched pony said with a frown. “We got her records extremely easily and she has a rap sheet longer than any pony I've seen in my seventeen years.”

“Mostly misdemeanor’s,” the beige pony added. He hesitated a moment before continuing, “But there are some very serious ones.” 

“Like attempted murder. She's put at least a dozen people in the hospital, and that's just the ones they know of. She ran gun for Don Burrasca for practically her entire life.” The splotched pony was staring at Copper as if he was trying to decide what to do with him. “She's a little monster.”

“But she's my little monster,” Copper snapped, actually beating the voice.

“What is your relationship with Scootaloo?” the beige pony asked cautiously.

“As far as anyone is concerned, she is my daughter.” It felt good to say, even if ponies would give him odd looks about it. “Now...do you have any other questions? I actually do have a job to do here, other than personal interests.”

“What sort of job?” More notes.

“I was asked to check up on a griffon, and request that she come to New York.” Copper looked at the splotched pony a moment.

“And who, pray-tell, asked you to do this job?” the splotched pony asked, glaring at Copper once again.

“Don Burrasca.” He was met with silence and nervous glances. “He asked me to find his daughter.”

There was a sense of relief that filled the room. “Don Burrasca doesn't have any children.”

“Well, if you don't believe me, allow me and Scootaloo to give him a call. That'll clear things up.” 

Again the splotched pony laughed. “I'll call that bluff.” He opened the door. “Right this way, Detective.”

Copper stood up purposefully looked behind him as he turned, glancing around the room. Despite what he had felt, nopony was there. That was another headache he would be forced to deal with; hearing voices. “Of course.”

He followed the splotched pony down a hall to another door, behind which Scootaloo was sitting. She had a frown on her face and her arms were folded. She was pouting. She looked up as the door opened and she saw Copper. “What's going on?” she asked as she moved quickly to him and out of the little room. 

“We're going to make that phone call,” Copper said with a smile. Scootaloo returned it as they followed the splotched pony down the hall into a larger area they had passed through previously. There were a lot of police officer's here, both ponies and griffons, and even some diamond dogs. 

“Here,” the splotched pony pointed to a phone sitting on the table. Copper had not had much dealings with phone's, but knew basically how they worked. There was a part where you spoke into, and a part that you heard what the other person was saying on the other side. It was fascinating technology and Copper had no idea how it worked.

Copper gestured for Scootaloo, as she knew the number. She quickly picked up the phone and dialed numbers using the little turn dial, before handing the actual speaking part to him. He knew how to hold it from what little experience he had. A voice on the other side spoke to him. “Who is this?” 

He didn't recognize the voice. “Copper Feather, I need to speak with Burrasca.”

There was hesitation on the other side. “Uh...are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure.” A crowd had now gathered around him, listening intently.

There was quite a bit of silence until Copper heard in a hushed, or muffled tone, “Don Burrasca...there's a phone call for you.”

Another moment of silence before Copper heard the familiar voice of the griffon Don Burrasca. “I do hope this is important.”

“Oh, am I interrupting something?”

There was a feeling of confusion from the other side before Burrasca spoke, “Copper?”

“Of course. I'm terribly sorry to interrupt,” Copper was looking around the room, some of the looks were horrified, some had fled it seemed. The rest either didn't know what was going on, or thought it was some sort of joke.

“Not at all. What has brought on this call? Have you found Gilda?”

“I'm afraid not. To summarize, I have completed most of my personal errands, the building we were in was burned down and we lost the clockwork, but gained a new one, and I have been arrested,” Copper couldn't help but smile as he spoke. 

“Oh dear. It seems that you have had quite the hard time. But it sounds quite simple to correct. I shall deal with it personally.”

“Thank you very much, Burrasca. Would you like me to call you again after it's all sorted out?”

“There's no need. Simply inform me when you have located my daughter and I shall arrange for your return to New York.”

“Again, thank you. Also, that was quite a rough plan you had to get me here,” Copper said with a slight frown, remembering the pirate encounter and kidnapping.

“Ah, yes. I will ask your forgiveness for that in person. Is there anything else?”

He had think about it a moment, wondering if there was anything else that he could ask Burrasca while he had the chance. “No, I think that's all for now.”

“Then I shall go and deal with this promptly. Hope to hear from you soon, Copper.”

“Of course. And thanks again.” Copper heard the click of Burrasca hanging up and he did so as well, taking a moment to think about how it was done.

“Well now,” the splotched pony said, smirking. “How did it go with 'Don Burrasca'?” There was a tone of triumph in his voice.

Copper held up his hand. “Give it a moment,” he said and everyone stared at his hand, and then looked towards one side of the room as a door opened to reveal a large griffon. 

Copper was close enough to be able to read the plaque on the wall that read 'Chief Inspector' in large letters, and close enough to see the nervous expression on his face. “Where is Copper Feather?”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Copper. “Right here,” he said with a smile.

The Chief Inspector headed towards him. “On behalf of myself and Scotland Yard, I would like to apologize for the inconvenience and any indiscretions that have happened during your time here.”

Out of the corner of his eye Copper saw the splotched pony slinking off into the crowd. “Not at all. Overall my stay has been quite pleasant.”

“If there is anything I can do to apologize for this misunderstanding, please don't hesitate to ask,” the griffon said as he looked around as if trying to find someone to shift the blame to. 

He wondered what Burrasca had said; if he he had made any threats, or if he had simply stated that he was disappointed. Copper looked at Scootaloo. “Do you need anything.”

Scootaloo looked thoughtful a moment. “Nothing I can think of off the top of my head, but I'm sure I'll think of something.”

Copper looked at the Chief Inspector and smiled. “The clockwork, for one. I will allow it to stay here and be studied, after I have a crack at it, but when I want it, it will come with me.” There was a hesitant nod from the Chief Inspector, then a line that Scootaloo had said previously jumped to mind. “And...as a private Detective from America, I don't have any sort of sway here. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like jurisdiction to operate here in England. That would make my inquiries much more productive.”