Chapter 10: The Spy Who Wubbed Me
Starlight Over Detrot: Chapter 10: The Spy Who Wubbed Me
The concept of an arcanelectric device is not new, but the mass production and increased scaling of such things came into being only recently. What few devices there were around the time of Luna’s return were mostly small consumer appliances, such as fans, movie projectors, refrigeration units, and rainbow vacuums. This was largely because pony materials science wasn’t up to the task of handling more dramatic arcanelectrics; traditional woods and metals used to house such designs would warp, shatter, or occasionally animate and begin demanding revenge for being plucked from the earth (see The Grand Galloping Gala Waffle Maker Incident, LR11)
It wasn’t until zebra alchemy became better integrated into Equestrian industry that things took off for arcanelectrics; with the introduction of materials that could contain magic, more powerful devices became possible. Magic-powered automotive vehicles came to supplant trains and manual pulling for personal transportation. Telephone networks and radio transmitters meant ponies were no longer even occasionally killed by attempting to use dragonfire for in-city personal correspondence. This doesn’t even touch on some of the more explosive arcanelectric devices, such as the Cloudhammer Lightning Rifle.
While the mixing of magic, technology, alchemy, and weather control has produced vast improvements in the quality of life for most ponies, it has not done so with complete reliability. Even with the stabilizing innovations of zebra alchemy, arcanotech is best described as 'moody.’ Magic is unpredictable by its very nature, and such devices operate on the basis of rules that are bizarre, arbitrary, or applicable in every circumstance except when it would suddenly be most inconvenient for them not to. The lowliest hot water heater, given the right confluence of ambient magic/local conditions, will still occasionally soak a pony right up to their ears in cherry flavored gelatin.
--The Scholar
Watching the bodyguard soil himself gave me a certain guilty satisfaction, especially after he’d nearly taken my head off just an hour ago, but I still felt a little bad for the guy. Stella was a bladder-emptying presence on his good days; specifically, days nopony had tried to blackmail him or murder his employees.
As the dragon dragged more of his coiled body above the platform, the thug’s stricken gaze remained locked on Stella’s slitted golden eyes. He backed into the edge of his box, almost tipping it over, but there was nowhere for him to go. That didn’t keep what was left of his base-mammal awareness from screaming at him that ‘anywhere else’ was a healthier place to be.
This suited me just fine; he was likely in a pliable enough mental condition to get the basics out of the way. I stepped between the bodyguard and the imposing figure of the Vivarium’s madame, trying to put on a disarming smile. I didn’t need to try too hard, because it was being compared to Stella’s smile, which could have put the Royal Guard on full alert.
“Good afternoon,” I said; his gaze shifted to my face and a bit of intelligence crept back into his eyes. “You mind if I ask your name? I think it’s likely to make him less inclined to eat you if we have that.” I jerked my rear hoof in Stella’s direction.
“H-h-hay Maker.” He managed, pee sloshing around his ankles.
“Wonderful. Progress. I’m Detective Hard Boiled, this is Miss After Glow—” Glow’s knife let out an unsettling clicking noise. “—Miss Taxi—” My driver lifted herself on her rear legs, stretched her forelegs over her head on each side and twisted back and forth until her spine produced an alarming crack. “—and I’m certain you’ve guessed that this is Stella. I have some things I want to know but you’ll have to excuse me.”
“F-for what?” Hay Maker asked warily.
I waved in our host’s direction. “I believe our guest here needs a quick shower?”
The bodyguard yelped, “What?!”
Before he could protest any more eloquently, he was in mid-air, dangling by his back legs as Stella swooped him up in one claw, snapped the chain links on the cuffs binding his knees together, and dropped him squarely in the vanity’s pool-sized sink. He scrambled up right just in time to be flattened against the bottom by a stream of steaming hot water from the tap.
“There now, isn’t that better?” Stella asked, clicking his teeth together as Hay Maker, coughing and sputtering, dragged himself up the side of the sink. His blond mane stuck to his neck, and as he stood there, he soon began shivering in the cool subterranean air. “Hay Maker. Such an aggressive title! I rather like it. Now then, as Mr. Hard Boiled said, we have questions and I believe you have answers.”
“B-bite me...” He spat, his forelegs giving out as he slid onto his belly. “I-I know you freaks don’t k-kill ponies. I can t-take whatever you can dish out.”
“Such language.” Stella tsked, smacking his ruby lips together. “I suppose common courtesy is too much to expect.”
He picked up Hay Maker once more, and deposited him in front of me. I gave him a little prod in the chest. “We aren’t going to torture you—”
After Glow flicked her cigar in a circle. “Speak fer yerself. Ah say we feed ’em to the lizard one inch at a time!” A knife she might as well have magicked into existence whipped into the metal grate at his feet, neatly clipping a few of the hairs from the tip of Hay Maker’s overgrown fetlock. The bodyguard’s neck tensed and if his bowels hadn’t already been empty, I think he’d have lost control again.
Stella merely swished his tail through the lake water, splashing my ankles. “I doubt he’d have much flavor, Miss Glow. Besides, I believe the goal was informative?”
“Ah’d find it very informative. Ah ain’t never seen a dragon eat nopony before.”
I glanced at the old unicorn and let out an irritated grunt. “Not helping.” Turning back to Hay Maker, I put both forehooves on his shoulders. I forced him to look into my face rather than up at Stella, who was inspecting talons that could eviscerate a pony with a limp-wristed gesture. “I don’t think you’re behind this little scheme with the club security system. You can still get out of this. Give us the pony who you’re working with and I’ll make sure you walk out of here.”
His lips twitched into a sneer and he swatted my legs away, giving me a hard push that sent me onto my ass. “Screw yourself, copper!” He spat in my face.
After Glow caught him in a full body field of arcane energy before he could advance, yanking him backwards against the railing. “Eh, stay there big boy, or yer goin’ in the drink.”
As I picked myself up, Stella had a bemused expression I wasn’t sure I liked. “Mr. Detective, I believe the kind approach isn’t likely to work on this one. It’s rare to see such loyalty in a ‘bought’ pony. I wonder if perhaps our little spy is more to him than just an employer?”
Hay Maker clenched his teeth at Stella’s words, narrowing his eyes and pressing against After Glow’s implacable magical hold. The muscles in his neck bulged, but she just went back to casually shaping the ash on her cigar with the edge of a hoof. “It don’t matter. Ah’m gonna skin ’em when Ah find ’em.”
“No, you won’t,” I replied, one ear back against my head. “They’ll be your prisoners, sure, but I want them both alive and healthy. I think we’re going to need them to handle your ‘other’ little problem. Send that Snow Coy fella in. I assume he’s got some spells we can use to get at what we need from this mule?”
Stella smirked at that, then tapped a gemstone on his vanity and spoke into a small microphone hidden somewhere in the expansive mirror. “Scarlet, darling? Send Master Snow Coy in. It seems we will be needing him after all.”
The speaker spit a bit of static then Scarlet’s voice came from some overhead speakers. “Yes, Mistress! Right away! Ugh, Swift, hold still!” There was a splash of water and scuffling hooves.
My partner’s slightly panicky voice took over. “No! You’re not putting perfume in my mane!”
“It’s not perfume! It’s conditioner, now hold still while I do your tail.”
“I don’t need conditioning!”
“This would go so much faster if you’d stop fighting...”
“Stop pulling on my wings!”
Stella smiled fondly as the speaker went dead.
Hay Maker was recovering his bluster as he dried out. “You are going to burn, you hear me? I get out of here and I’ll toss a feckin’ bomb in this place.”
“Then I shall count my lucky stars it’s unlikely you will ‘get out’ of the Vivarium in a timely fashion. You’re useful, sweetness. Pray you remain that way.” Stella replied, his neck flukes standing up as he turned to me. “Detective, I assume you have a plan?”
“Something like that. I figure they’ve got a way to communicate. Am I right?” I asked, eyeing Hay Maker. He merely scowled and gnashed his teeth, futilely trying to tug himself free of the encompassing mystical restraints. I continued, “I didn’t find it when I frisked him, and if the pony we’re hunting is as clever as I think they are, then he’s going to have to show us how they’ve been talking to one another. I’d imagine he managed to inform them we caught him so might I recommend we put the staff on lockdown?”
“Hardy, what if it’s a guest?” Taxi put in.
“Doubt it,” I replied, waving a hoof. “For the kind of infiltration they’ve been working, I’m betting they took a job. We’re looking for ponies with a history in security. Probably even a special talent for security or intelligence gathering. It shouldn’t be terribly difficult once the guests clear out to go through the... staff...”
I trailed off as I noticed both Stella and Glow sharing a look; when they saw my bemused expression, they collectively burst into laughter.
“What’s funny?” I asked, irritated.
The unicorn rolled her eyes, her jowls jiggling with mirth. “Riiight... yer lookin’ for a pony in this place who is good with restraints, information extraction, and keepin’ secrets. Nope, why would we eeever employ one o’ them? Try again, smart-wad.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm.
“Fine, then we need an alternative.” I said curtly, indignation covering the fact that I was a little embarrassed by the oversight. “Let’s hope Snow Coy provides us with one. Either way, make sure the staff don’t leave.”
“Already done, deary.” Stella assured me, straightening his auburn mane. “I came to much the same conclusion before you arrived. The staff will find themselves required to stick around for an extra hour or two. I hope, sincerely, that is enough. My employees aren’t used to these types of inconveniences.”
The racket of the descending elevator from down the tunnel interrupted these conversations; all eyes turned towards the cavern entrance. The first hoofsteps that followed were so faint at first that I thought I’d imagined them. The pony coming sounded reluctant, shuffling along and kicking pebbles out of his way rather than prancing proudly like every other dom I’d seen in the building. He paused in the shadows just outside of Stella’s lair.
I could see only the outline of a thin, rather short pony with somewhat handsome features marred by a weak chin. He seemed to be taking deep, fortifying breaths as though preparing for an unpleasant ordeal.
“Master Snow Coy, come in, please,” Stella said encouragingly. “We need your expertise.”
“Yes, Mistress Stella,” Snow Coy murmured, as barely audible as he was barely visible.
He was a head shorter than myself and—unlike the effeminate Scarlet—masculine, but his shoulders were hunched forward, making him look like he was trying to be as small as possible. Worse, he was a pegasus: no magic. His wings were tiny; they might have been Swift’s if she’d been at all in proportion. His mane was a soft ashen shade of yellow, and his short cut pelt seemed to shift under the light, occasionally settling on off-navy blue.
All in all, it wasn’t an image I’d ever associated with the words ‘Grand Inquisitor.' Or even ‘Dominant.’ He trotted forward and bowed low, pressing his cheek against the cold metal catwalk as he waited to be addressed.
Hay Maker was eyeing him, but as he bowed, the big boxer heaved a sigh of relief as the ordeals he was envisioning faded. Snow Coy ignored him; the pegasus’ attention was on Stella, who waved one claw for him to get up. “Master Snow Coy, you know I don’t stand by those silly old ceremonies. Get up.”
Blushing lightly, the stallion pushed himself upright. “Yes, Mistress Stella.”
I trotted around him in a small circle, studying his unusual coloration. Taxi had a frown on her face, as nonplussed by this extremely humble pegasus as I was. He wasn’t even wearing any of the straps or metal spikey bits I’d seen on almost every other pony at the Vivarium. Still, if there’s one rule by which all of Equestria lives, it’s that nothing is ever exactly what it seems.
“You’re Master Snow Coy?”
He sat on his haunches, following me with his kind, gentle eyes. He reminded me of a kindergarten teacher I’d met once, many years ago. “Yes. Are you the one I’ve been told is threatening the Vivarium?” he inquired calmly, pursing his lips. I shook my head and waved towards Hay Maker, who’d managed to get one of his hooves loose and was clutching at the railing at his back as he fought to free the others. That, or After Glow was just screwing with him; she didn’t seem terribly worried and wasn’t even breaking a sweat holding him in place.
Snow Coy got up and moved over in front of the much larger pony, settling on his bottom again. “Miss Glow, you can let him go now.” He said very quietly.
I jumped forward before the shine around Glow’s horn could go out. “Wait a second! Stella, I get that you’ve got big trust in your people but before we go any farther, you’re not planning on... I don’t know, frying his brain with lightning or something are you? A vegetable isn’t going to do us a mountain of good, you know.”
Hay Maker registered his agreement with a displeased grunt.
“Detective, I realize you have a certain interest of your own in this one, but I would ask you to please trust that our methods are sound.” Stella picked up a cosmetics compact I could have used for a bed from the collection on his vanity and began disinterestedly applying a thin layer of powder to his cheek scales. “We haven’t survived this long on luck. You wanted to know how we’ve kept the Heights safe and maintained our relative anonymity? You earned the right to know, my sweet stud. Now, let Master Snow Coy work.”
Glow’s horn sputtered, and the hum of magic died. Immediately, and as I’d thought he would, Hay Maker lunged for Snow Coy, who sat impassively as the much larger pony grabbed him by the shoulders and threw his leg around his throat, then yanked the small pegasus upright while backing towards the door.
“Get of my way or I’ll break his neck like a friggin’ twig!” the boxer shouted.
I ratcheted my gun’s autoloader, kicked up my bit, and leveled the barrel at his head, already figuring which angle I could put a bullet in him from. It wasn’t a terribly difficult shot at this range, but you generally give the hostage taker one chance to surrender, because even easy shots sometimes miss.
I was about to lay the standard, slightly bit-muffled ‘There’ff nowhere to go’ spiel on him, when Snow Coy twisted his head to one side uncomfortably. Hay Maker looked down at the sudden motion and their eyes met.
And something... happened.
I could never have told you what. It was so quick I barely had time to draw breath. One second, I was considering how I was going to blow Hay Maker’s head all over the wall; the next, Snow Coy’s gaze locked with the boxer’s, and the bigger pony seemed to go slack. Slowly, the tower of muscle and crushing strength relaxed his grip.
Snow Coy lightly rubbed his throat and coughed, keeping his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Hay Maker’s face. Reaching up he very tenderly touched the bigger pony’s cheek, and murmured a genuinely regretful, “I’m sorry.”
We don’t use magic in most police work unless the crime was magical, but I’d witnessed my fair share of incantations. This was unlike any spell I’d ever seen. My brain scrambled for any coherent explanation. Enchantment. He’s enchanting him. He’s secretly an alicorn... or a transformed unicorn... or...
“What’s your name?” Snow Coy asked, uninterrupted by my awestruck musings.
“Hay Maker.” The boxer replied, then looked surprised, as though he hadn’t intended to answer.
“What is the name of your accomplice?”
“I... I don’t know her real name or what name she uses here. I just call her boss.” Hay Maker’s jaw clenched tightly as he fought to close off the flow of words.
“Do you love her?” The dom asked, brushing back his subject’s mane with all the gentility of a father holding his foal for the first time.
Tears began to leak from the corners of Hay Maker’s eyes. He struggled to back away but whatever Snow Coy had done to him, it was a damn sight more ‘whammy’ than even After Glow’s telekinesis.
“Y-y-yeees...” he choked out, then almost bit the tip of his own tongue off as he tried to force his voice down.
“And... does she love you?”
“N-no! Stop! Please... stop...” Hay Maker begged, his lips quivering.
Snow Coy touched his chin, holding him up while those kind and caring eyes imprisoned him in some deeper, darker place than any After Glow or I might have come up with. Seasoned interrogators take hours to get information out of a genuinely reluctant being, much less one who had somepony to protect, and yet here was this unassuming creature, tearing out a pony’s soul with a gently-asked question.
“How do you communicate with each other?”
Hay Maker shook his head, still unable to break the fearsome gaze. Mechanically, like a pony possessed, he reached up to his lips and lightly twisted his front tooth using his tongue and hooftip. It snapped out of a secret socket that seemed to be built into his jaw. Coy held out his hoof and he spat the fake tooth onto it.
“Just one more question. I promise. How is it activated?” Coy murmured.
“Y-you have t-to p-press t-the button...w-with your t-tongue...” Hay Maker was almost gagging on every word now.
Snow Coy nodded to himself then lowered his head and closed his eyes. The boxer immediately collapsed, great wracking sobs pouring out of him as he curled up on his side and drew his legs up. The dom gathered Hay Maker to his breast and, wonder of wonders, the other stallion clutched at him like a rock in a rushing river.
I didn’t dare break the profane silence as Snow Coy comforted the weeping pony. They lay there, holding one another. We were on a pretty fiercely enforced deadline and nothing I could think of to say seemed appropriate.
At last, after some minutes, the dom extricated himself from the larger pony, trotted over, and set the tooth down between my forehooves.
“I hope this was worth it to you,” He muttered. His slender face was streaked with moisture. Before I could reply his wings buzzed and he dashed out of the cave full tilt, crying like a foal.
My jaw was right down between my knees. It took my trigger bit dropping from my lips and smacking painfully against my fetlock to bring me back to reality.
“What in the holy sun of Celestia was that?!” I blurted, pushing my hat back on my head.
After Glow’s cigar had gone out; she relit it with a burst from her quivering horn, laughing nervously. Even she seemed slightly shaken. “Ah... heh... Ah known that colt and his family back three generations. They say his granny could make a dragon cry. Weirdest bunch of ponies Ah ever met. They sure do care though...”
“B-but what did... what did he do?” I stammered, staring down at the false tooth. It had a small jewel embedded in the top of it that looked like it could be pressed.
“Do ye really wanna know?” After Glow asked, chomping on her smoke and puffing a ring out of her nose. I found, surprisingly, that I didn’t. There are some things in this world that a pony is just not meant to question. In the best case, I’d waste time beating my head against an unsolvable mystery; in the worst case, we would learn how to tear out a pony’s secrets with a gaze, and not all the ponies who’d learn to do so would be as gentle or restrained with such magic as Snow Coy. No, much better to let that question die.
Taxi straightened her saddlebags. “So... it’s him,” she said, “him and his family. They’re the ones who take care of the mobsters. Why... why do they stay? He looked like he hated it.”
Stella turned in a small circle. “Miss Taxi, my dear... I see those scars on your flanks. I’m uncertain what your talent is and wouldn’t be so rude as to ask, but I can only guess that other ponies have looked down on you for their loss, yes?” The dragon’s voice was deeply sympathetic. “I see the shame etched there, etched deep. Their loss blackened your spirit in some way. You catch ponies looking at you, accusing you with their eyes, don’t you? They think: ‘I wonder if she deserved it.’ ‘I wonder what evil path she was foolish enough to tread.’”
Taxi said nothing, her tail sweeping protectively underneath her body. Stella was treading on dangerous ground; if he’d been a pony, he’d probably already have been laying on his back clutching a bloody nose. As it was, there was nothing my driver could do but listen.
“If those ponies dare treat someone who lost something so dear to them in that manner, can you imagine what they would do to a pony once they knew what Snow Coy is capable of? Do you know of any group of ponies who wouldn’t be afraid of him one day laying all of their secrets bare?”
My driver started to respond but hesitated then sat down, staring hard at the platform underhoof. Her expression was, outwardly, entirely emotionless. To anypony who didn’t know her she’d have just looked lost in thought, and she was—but I knew it was the look she got when her own colored history was nibbling at her.
Stella went on. “Here he has a home. He’s even quite popular. Where else would a pony with such skills find safety?”
Taxi shut her eyes tightly and muttered, “Nowhere.”
Before the mood could get too melancholy, I decided to distract everypony with business. I waved After Glow over, pointing my hoof at Hay Maker’s false tooth. “You ever see anything like this before?”
She lifted the dental device and spun it in a circle, pulling out her spectacles and arranging them on her nose. “Mmm... Ah know it. Saw some’a this here back in the Crusades. Used to send in ponies tah get enslaved and work the dragon gem mines with somethin’ like this fer intel. Looks juryrigged, though. Smart pony made this.”
Taxi poked the tooth, sending it spinning. “How come I never got one of those?” she griped. “I could have used something like that when I was working undercover!”
After Glow grinned with a certain nostalgia. “That there is war materiel. Dragons wised up towards the end of the Crusades. Started usin’ this nasty warding spell. Walk into the spell with one’a these in yer head and it goes ‘boom!’” She clapped her forehooves together; both Taxi and I jumped. “Pretty nice piece of kit unless ye happen to stumble through somewhere what has the bad juju on it. Celestia had most of the real ones rounded up and destroyed at the end of the war. Ye never know where the spell is, after all. Looks like somepony figured out how to make something similar.”
Hay Maker swallowed sharply as he listened to Glow’s explanation. I was with him on that; the thought of having had a homemade version of a military communications device known for volatile explosiveness sitting behind me the entire drive over wasn’t a pleasing retrospective.
Stella dragged himself out of the water, the catwalk shaking. I had to dance to keep my balance as he crawled across his massive lounge. His bottom half still lay in the water. “Hmmm... Miss Glow, would you take our prisoner upstairs and find him someplace quiet to sit?”
The old unicorn’s lips curled up in a scary grin. “Eeyup...”
Stella shook her head and raised a clawtip. “Treat him gently... for now.”
Glow’s grin vanished beneath a sharp eyeroll. “Aw, awright. Dipshit, yer comin’ with me.” Her horn flashed and she snatched up Hay Maker, rolling him onto his back in mid-air. He flailed his hooves helplessly, tearful bawling replaced by fearful wailing.
She left me sitting there, contemplating the tooth, which I picked up in both hooves, turning it over and over. “Taxi, what do you know about devices like this? I mean the logistics of how they work.”
She shrugged and thought back. “What, magic communications devices? We used a smaller version of the ones in the police cruisers when I was undercover. Really expensive, too big, and not all that reliable. That thing looks too small to have an internal power supply, so I bet it works off something local like those walkie-talkie gems we saw on some of the staff. Probably whatever they were using to tap into the security also powers it remotely. If that’s the case its range is likely limited to this building and the surrounding neighborhood.”
“So it’s entirely possible his friend hasn’t had more than a few minutes advanced warning?” I asked, feeling the beginnings of hope. “And if Stella’s got the place on lockdown, his friend’s still here?”
“Well... maybe? Ugh, Hardy, you’re asking the wrong pony!” She tossed her mane in agitation.
“How durable is the receiver do you think? It’s likely to be magical, right?” I asked, insistently.
Taxi smacked me on the side of the head. “You never paid attention during magitechnical class, did you?”
“Hey!” I objected, rubbing my temple. “Do you see a horn on my head or a bunch of wires and gems on my ass?”
She let out a long, exasperated groan. “Arcanelectrics have to use magical receivers. That’s the ‘arcane’ part, doofus. If it’s wired into the security system then it has to be arcanelectric. I don’t know how durable it is, but the answer is probably ‘very.’ Magic speakers don’t have an upper range unless you build one in. They’ll still break from excess volume like those new lightning based ones but it takes a lot more to do it. That’s why there are laws on personal sound systems.”
“So if we were to put a lot of sound through this, the one on the other end might survive?” I mused.
“Uh...yeah, at a guess, it might. Why? What do you have in mind?”
Stella, who’d been content to listen to us while preening himself, turned onto his side and propped himself on one palm. “Ahhh, does my little Detective have an idea?”
I straightened my coat, tucking the tooth into the front pocket. “I’m thinking so. I’m going to need to borrow your disc jockey.”
The dragon’s lip curled in amusement. “Gyro Technic? I’m sure he’ll be happy to help. I’ll call him while you’re on your way up.” Something in the way he said the word ‘happy’ made me distinctly nervous. After a moment’s consideration, he added, “Don’t kill him or I’ll eat you.”
****
There’s a certain tactful methodology for dealing with difficult members of the public. They taught it to us sometime in the Academy right after the month-long course I vaguely remember as Not Humiliating The Department with Public Sex Acts 101. I remember listening to the prim and proper charm-school professor with a tight hair bun and a nice flank just long enough to pass the test, then promptly forgetting every word she ever said.
In Equicide, on most days, I was there to ask questions. Period. ‘Tact’ was just another word for ‘bullshit’ in my book. You use it when necessary, but in general it’s just another tool in pursuit of the truth. If it got in the way of the truth, you abandoned it for something more effective.
Gyro Technic made me wish I’d paid more attention to that teacher’s mouth and less to her rear end.
Taxi and I were directed up to the DJ’s booth via a circuitous route through the back rooms. I had braced myself for slowly explaining what we needed to a zap-headed psychedelic druggie waste of fur whose cutie-mark had something to do with ruptured eardrums.
If only.
I pushed open the door to the tiny music booth and stepped into a surprising pool of quiet. Gyro Technic was still twirling and dancing to something, but the noise coming from his headphones sounded nothing like the buzzing, wild animal music the club was swinging to last time I was on the dance floor. It sounded like classical; the kind of sweet, soulfully melodious stuff Taxi put on when we’d had a rough day and the vodka came out.
He hadn’t seen us and his eyes were closed as his collection of glow-sticks and flashing strobes swung around his neck. His horn worked both turntables at once while deft hooves quickly switched records, sending the crowd just inches away through the soundproofed glass into another frenzy of bumping and grinding.
We stood there for a full minute, waiting for him to see us then Taxi coughed politely.
Gyro let out a surprised yelp, then scrambled to grab his microphone, “Hey, cats! Your sweet beat master gotta take a call! Be back in two shakes of my hot ass!”
He didn’t look all that old. His pink fur was still lustrous and he hadn’t a single wrinkle around his eyes. The tips of his spotted turquoise mane weren’t grey, but what came out of his muzzle were the gravelly tones of a life-long smoker, low and with the kind of seductive growl that could set mares swooning.
The crowd surged in a mass of waving hooves and tails as he set another record on his tables and put the needle in place, but there was nothing to hear. It was strange to watch that many ponies shrieking without hearing it, like a movie that’s lost the sound track.
He pulled his headphones down around his throat. It was definitely classical coming out of one side while that beat heavy garbage, turned down low, came out of the other.
“You two ruffians don’t intend on using my equipment, do you?” Gyro sniffed, giving us both an appraising look.
My brain chugged. I turned to Taxi who was having a similar cognitive failure; in the span of two seconds Gyro had gone from that passionate, masculine voice that most ponies could listen to all night to a reedy Manehattanite twang so upper-crust it gave the impression we were being charged to breathe his air and the debt was running up quick. I was also suddenly aware of Stella’s threat. Murder the disk-jockey, become dinner.
Be polite, Hardy. I thought. You can be polite, right? Just tell him what you want,then leave.
“We’re not here to touch anything.” I assured him, trying to be genial. “We just need your services for the good of the Vivarium. I assume Stella told you what’s going on? Do you think you could improvise a way to route speaker power through—” I pulled the tooth out and set it on his turntables. “—this?”
Gyro flung his headset off with a shot of magic and began shuffling through his vinyl, pointedly not so much as looking at the communication device.
“Good of the Vivarium... hah!” He snorted, tossing his mane as he selected a record and slipped it into the auto-changer. As he turned away, I gave his cutie-mark a quick look: a treble-clef overlaid with a conductor’s wand. He continued, no less arrogant and certainly not sounding terribly cooperative. “Stella did not deem it necessary to tell me anything. He never does! He just makes demands like I’m one of those whipped little perverts who enjoy the rod. Well, you can march right back down to that dragon and tell him that I may rent, but I am paid up. So long as the job is done and the masses are happy I don’t take requests and I control the sound! That is in my contract.”
Irritation began to eat at my resolve not to pummel this pony. “Look, Stella authorized us to use this system. You can either help us or leave but—”
“But what?” He interrupted, his horn letting off a menacing glow. “You think because you’re some stiff cop you can come into my booth and tell me what to do? I’ve played the Gala, Mister Officer! I have ponies in high places who call on my services for their musical needs! I am not at your behest.”
I grit my teeth, feeling my pulse start to pound in my temples; speaking slowly and deliberately like he barely understood Equestrian was as cordial as I could manage anymore. “We. Just. Need. A bit. Of your sound.”
“Yes, and I need a boat made of gold to fly me to the moon where I’ll take tea with the princesses! I see we have two things between us that are not going to happen tonight.”
Taxi, in typical Taxi fashion, wasn’t paying much attention outwardly to the little dick waving competition but had already begun to do precisely what I’d said we wouldn’t: touch everything she possibly could with great interest.
“Look, this isn’t complicated,” I started.
Technic very casually bit off a piece of paper from a discarded record slip, chewed for a second, then spit it onto my hat. “You can’t run my equipment without me. Now screw off until you have some manners and a little breeding.”
Two seconds. If Taxi hadn’t been physically between us inside of two seconds, he’d have had a crushed trachea and I’d have been dissolving in a dragon’s stomach an hour later. I fought the red haze descending over my vision until my driver took my face in both hooves and touched her nose to mine.
“Hardy, lemme have this one,” she whispered. “He’s not kidding about the equipment. This setup is ridiculously complex. I promise, I’ll get one back for the spitball on your hat, but we need him.”
I breathed out and nodded quickly.
She turned and put her hooves together. “We’ll be off then, Mister Technic. Before we go, I must say, that Beethoofan Number Nine in D you have on the wall over there looks to be in absolutely spectacular condition,” she said, gesturing at a record inside a sealed case on the wall whilst shooting him a smile I’d seen melt butter from across the room. “Do you mind if I ask where you got it?”
Technic hesitated, eye twitching towards the prize of his collection while his headphones hung just above his head. “That’s... I... acquired that in a second hoof store... ” He jerked upright then covered his mouth with one leg. “I mean—I bought it at auction!”
Taxi held a toe to her lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell anypony. I’ve often found some rather spectacular pieces for my personal collection among the lower class establishments. Most recently, I discovered a copy of Lady Octavia playing Allegrezza for the double bass at the thirteenth Lunar Return party. It’s a pity what ponies will throw out when they haven’t any idea what they’ve got.”
Gyro’s breathing caught and he gave Taxi a manic expression. Taxi had seamlessly metamorphosed into exactly what every true, fanatical collector desires: somepony to show off for who will appreciate their passion. “You... discovered an original recording of that session?”
“Oh, yes. Verified by the Canterlot Musical Society. There were only eight made, but it seems one of those to whom it was originally gifted fell on hard times at some point and was forced to sell it.” Taxi smoothed back her checkered mane and practically purred. “I discovered it in a thrift shop covered in dust, but still in perfect playing condition. I could let you have a listen at some point if you would deign to give us a few minutes of your time and maybe the use of your considerable talents?”
She put extra emphasis on the word ‘considerable’ and I could see Gyro’s audiophiliac mind turning over the possibilities. As usual, when brute force and authority failed, flattery and bribery got us everywhere.
“I... hmmm... I believe I could arrange something. Let me see what you have there.” Setting his headphones aside, the DJ magically lifted the fake tooth, turning it end over end then carefully prodding the socket in the bottom. “This contains a wireless power stone and a fairly specialized listening spell bound to that gem in the the tip. Maybe a microphone of some kind? What did you have in mind to do with it?”
“How long do you think it would take you to rig a way to channel the club’s sound system through this?” I asked, ignoring the questions.
“Perhaps five minutes?” He replied, immediately tugging a stack of cabling out from under the turntable and splitting down several wires. “The power stone is very simple. Do you want to talk to somepony on the other end?”
“Nope.” I paused for dramatic effect. “I want you to turn it all the way up.”
Gyro’s facial expression at that instant was worth every bit in the royal treasury. It started somewhere near incomprehension, proceeded through disbelief, wandered the edges of eagerness, and finally settled on confused anger. “You’re... attempting to be funny, right? If I’d known you were going to waste my time—”
“No joke. As much power as you can put through that.” I waved a hooftip at the tooth.
His face a mask of intense surprise, he unconsciously plucked a disk from his collection, slipped it into the player, and adjusted several dials, sending the crowd into their next number. “That’ll... almost surely shake apart the receiver after a few seconds!”
“We’ll only need a few seconds. Can you do it?” I asked, firmly.
A lick of quiet, forbidden joy began to ease into his stuffy, chiseled features, but underneath a war was taking place. “I... there are laws...”
I eased my badge out and held it up for him. I couldn’t see his eyes through the rose tinted goggles, but he took my badge in his magical grasp and held it there, studying it. After several long moments, he spoke, “I should... tell you something.” He sounded very subdued all of a sudden. “I just want you to know what you’re asking of me.”
His shoulders sagged and he pulled himself back up onto his stool. Turning back to his sound board he pointed to a large knob in the center of his console. It had eleven notches on it spread evenly around the outside edge. “You don’t know it, but the music is the smallest part of what we do. Picking a good track is easy. This... right here... is at the very center of what makes a good DJ. This is what is difficult to control. It is our responsibility, our power, and our burden. Anypony can get behind a pair of turntables and spin a tune. We are the ones who know the limit and this... is the great temptress. She begs you to push her just that little bit farther every night and those who go too far end up brain damaged, deaf, and broken.”
He drew in a breath and tapped the dial. “This is the volume.”
Taxi looked a little confused by his dramatic treatment of a volume dial as Pandora’s Saddlebag, but in that instant, I understood. I recognized something in the disk jockey buried underneath his facade of civilized behavior. It reached right back into history when our ancestors chased the horizon on the open plains and outran the wind. It was something Gyro Technic and I shared.
All cops, in our heart of hearts, want to go out on the edge between justice and vengeance and dance there. One day we want to see just how far we can go, then take another step. It’s the rush of a skydiver waiting until the last possible second to open his parachute. It is an addiction, and Gyro, whatever jet-setting silver spoon he’d been born with tucked into his mouth, had it bad.
I smiled at him for the first time, and laid my hoof lightly on top of his, where it rested on the volume control.
“All the way.”
****
Taxi and I stepped back onto the dance floor and two Stilettos fell in behind us; the zebra and the colt who guarded the entrance to Stella’s audience chamber. We pushed our way through the herd of hustling bodies.
I leaned over to my driver and said quietly, “I didn’t know you collected ‘vintage’ recordings.”
She quirked her lips. “I don’t.”
“But you said—”
“I said I’d get one back for him spitting on your hat.”
****
If anticipation had a flavor, it would be like chilled sweat, condensing in the humid room full of bouncing ponies all unaware of what was about to happen. The easy weight of a walkie-talkie gem sat in my front jacket pocket. It had a clear line straight up to Gyro, who sat in his DJ booth surrounded by ropes of cable all attached by tiny metal clamps to the fake tooth, with one trembling hoof on the volume.
What we were about to do could easily have caused a riot. An evil little part of me kinda hoped it would. Our spy must have known she was made by this point, and had either secreted herself somewhere or was trying to escape. Either way, the moment was upon us; time to drop the bass.
I dipped my muzzle and spoke into the com-gem. “Do it.”
For several seconds nothing happened. I had enough time to think ‘Aw, ponyfeathers...’ as a noise like a thousand wolverines having simultaneous bowel distress seemed to rip through the air. Even Taxi and I, who’d known it was coming, instinctively ducked. There were a few screams from the assembled masses as everypony dropped to their knees at once.
The music cut out and Gyro’s modified voice crackled through the speaker system, sounding slightly distorted and very apologetic, “People! Sorry for the fart, I had the nachos tonight! Heh, just kidding, cats. Your lord of the dance just popped a fuse back here. Gimme ten minutes to get it all cleaned up! Meanwhile, drinks at the bar at seventy five percent off! Make sure to tip your waiters and waitresses.”
As one the crowd rose, gave a collective shrug, brushed themselves off, and headed for the bar. All in all, not the worst response to a noise like that from a pack of ponies. The fact that most of them were already heavily liquored probably helped. Gyro had handled it masterfully.
My communication gem let out a beep for attention; Stella’s dulcet tones spilled therefrom. “Hey there, sweetums! You might be interested to know that my console shows we just had a breach of the safety spells in room thirty seven. It’s currently undergoing reupholstering and shouldn’t be in use. Trot that tasty rump down there! My Stilettos are en-route to support, but I figure you’ll want first crack at our little mole.”
I smacked the gem. “Ten four.”
Aiming myself at the entertainment rooms, I set off at a full gallop, throwing myself around patrons and over spilled drinks. I drew a few lazy eyes, but since the Stilettos were paying me no particular mind, the guests wrote me off as just one more rushing employee trying to pin down the ‘sound problem’ and get them back to their leisure in top form.
The bordello complex had fared less well than the dance floor. Angry ponies wanting to know what the hay was going on stuck their heads out of every room in various states of dress, undress, and too-weird-to-mention dress.
Taxi, as usual, was thinking more quickly than I was. She dove into a janitor’s closet, grabbing an extension cord and a bucket. She slung the cord around her neck and shoved the bucket into my mouth then began waving ponies back into their rooms.
“Sorry, sorry, we’re going to fix the issue right now,” she said just a little bit louder than necessary and to nopony in particular, which most everypony took to mean she was talking to them. “No, no problem at all! Just a fuse. Discount drinks up front! Ask and your entertainers will be glad to give you a voucher for the next time you come in!”
****
The corridor to Room 37 was an altogether different beast.
Taxi stopped on one side of the hall and I on the other, pressing up against the wall on either side of the junction. Our two Stilettos took up positions at either end of the adjoining halls, readying their various sharp implements.
A semi-transparent sheet of plastic hung from ceiling to floor, keeping in the worst of the detritus inside, but the air was a dirty brown behind it. I twirled my hoof three times in a circle then pointed at my driver. Taxi nodded, edging over to my back in preparation for disabling anypony who tried to get past me.
On three taps of one hoof, I Iifted the veil of plastic sheeting and immediately caught a face full of swirling sawdust. I tried to peer through it, but there was nothing to see. It looked like a tornado had hit a construction site in there.
I blinked to clear my eyes and caught a glimpse of a shadow moving at the far end of the hall, stumbling drunkenly from one wall to the next. A faint pearly glow radiated from somewhere near the figure’s head.
Taxi grabbed me by the coat and tossed both of us sideways just as a wooden sawhorse wheeled out of the cloudy air, smashing headlong into the far wall. We landed in a pile of woodchips, which was softer than I might otherwise have hoped for. Twisting upright, I barreled towards the figure in a three legged gallop using the fourth to cover my face. As I got close enough I could see the shape a little more clearly. It was a tall, thin mare.
At the last moment I dropped my shoulder into a charge but the unicorn’s horn shined again and a sharp, invisible blow to the side of the neck sent me sprawling, rolling nose over hoof into the pony’s knees. She let out a feminine whinny of alarm and fell on top of me. Before she could recover I leaned up and grabbed her ear in my teeth, shoving her chin, forcing her head to one side.
Her aim spoiled, the next blast just slapped the floor beside my face rather than turning my muzzle into tapioca. Tearing herself away with strength born of fear, the spy readied another attack, and I brought my gun up, preparing to tug back the hammer manually and put one in her gut.
Then Taxi was there, appearing like a vicious wind out of the discombobulating cloudy haze, walking on her back legs. She lashed out with her hard toe-tips, landing double blows on either side of the spy’s neck. The mare let out a strangled gagging noise and fell across my belly, a sack of wet, comatose concrete.
“Oof! Ugh, Sweets...did you have to drop her on me?” I complained, shifting out from underneath the unconscious body.
“Would you have rather I let her finish that last spell? I’d miss your stupid face if it were a different shape,” Taxi answered, grinning. “So would Scarlet and Stella.”
Despite her thin limbs, our spy was heavy. Her flanks were the sort of sporty muscular that ballerinas and dressage masters pick up after years in a dance studio. She wore an apron draped around her middle, hiding her cutie-marks. A thin trickle of blood ran out of both of her ears, dripping onto the carpet. With the dust finally beginning to settle I could see her face.
“Isn’t that our waitress? From yesterday?”
“Svelte. Miss Svelte.” Taxi said, thinking back.
“That’s her, yeah,” I said, yanking the apron off her flank. Her cutie-mark was a lock sprouting a twist of thorns in the shape of a key. “And there’s our ‘security background’ too. Hay Maker was probably watching the place yesterday when we came in. She probably... ugh, she probably ran straight from wherever she was holed up. You think she was listening in on the conversation with Scarlet?”
Taxi lifted the girl’s face then let it drop. Her tongue lolled obscenely from the side of her muzzle. “I would have. That fake tooth is a work of art. I wouldn’t put it past her to have something similar she could throw around for emergencies. Maybe she bugged the drinks. Look at this.” She tugged one of Svelte’s horn rings until it came free, pulling out a small rag from her bags and cleaning it off a bit. The gem inset was blackened and cracked and the back of the ring was a mass of extremely fine wires. “I thought those looked awfully tacky. The receiver was right out in plain sight.”
“Smart, when you think about it.” I said, admiringly. “If she was carrying a purse or something bulkier the Stilettos might have found it.”
“So I guess that’s how she communicated with Hay Maker... but I don’t think that’s what did all this.” I said, pointing towards small piles of scattered tools left by the work-ponies which looked like they’d been thrown into every corner. None were embedded in the drywall, but a few had left sizeable dents. “If those exploded with that kind of force it would have taken her horn off, if not her head. Besides, how was that tapped into the security grid? And how would she get enough power out of something that small to communicate?”
Taxi was examining the girl closely, peeling back her eyelids. “Well, she’s lost her eardrums and she’s going to have one rocking headache when she comes to... probably a concussion to boot. I’m surprised she was still able to think long enough to throw a sawhorse, much less give you that shiner.” She pointed at my chest.
It wasn’t until she said it that I became aware of the absolutely mind-numbing agony in my chest and collar bone, the adrenaline no longer there to help me ignore it. That telekinetic attack had some real oomph. I tried to twist my head so I could see the damage and pins and needles started from my shoulder and worked their way right down to my heel.
“Luna stick me with her horn...” I cursed, trying to will the suffering away. I’ve never been good at assessing how injured I am on any given day, but there’s a certain metallic flavor in the back of the throat associated with your body telling you that you’ve been an boneheaded cretin.
Our Stiletto guards approached cautiously, ready not doubt to turn somepony into a pincushion if the moment called for it. When they saw me sitting over Svelte’s snoozing form they relaxed and came to that peculiar attention of theirs, waiting for orders.
Taxi was all too happy to give some. “You two yahoos just gonna stand there? We could use some help.”
The zebra looked at her companion who was jiggling and shaking one of the walkie-talkie gems. They conferred with their eyes, then the zebra said, “Internal communications in this section seem to be down. What do you need?”
“We’ve got a couple of injuries here—”
“I’m fine—” I started to object, but standing to show just how ‘fine’ I was felt only a little bit like having my leg torn off. I quickly sat again.
“As I was saying, we’ve got a couple of injuries here and if this injury doesn’t shut his muzzle, I will personally add a few more to his tally,” My driver threatened before adding, “We also need a unicorn who knows anesthetic magics of some kind.”
“There is a clinic at the other end of the complex. Several of the dominants are skilled in pain extraction as well,” The zebra Stiletto replied.
“Do you want to go get them or do I have to pay for that service too?” Taxi snarled. She’s been known to get a bit protective now and then, even if the implication appeared to be that she’s the only one who should get to decide how much I suffer. Still, even the ache in my shoulder couldn’t dull the tiny smile I allowed myself at seeing her in full on mama-bear mode again.
The zebra said something to her companion which I didn’t catch, then they were both off in opposite directions.
I did my best not to whine as Taxi began prodding and fussing over my busted leg. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Charging a unicorn...” she scolded, pinching a nerve in my side, which quieted the tingling fury of my tortured nerves.
“Can’t I just be hurt for a few minutes?” I shuddered, feeling her manipulating something under my pelt that should have most definitely not been in that position.
“You’re lucky this is just a dislocation and that we don’t have to explain why you look like you got in a high speed slap fight with the Night Trotter’s front bumper.”
“A dislocation? Are you screwing with me? I’ll be lucky if I’m not on my back for a week—”
Taxi didn’t wait for me to finish. She grabbed my leg, slid her ankle behind mine, shoved with all of her weight on my chest, forcing me off balance and onto my side. I inhaled a tasty muzzle full of bits of wood, kicking out with my back hoof which she deftly avoided. Planting her back leg on my neck she wrapped both forelegs around my damaged limb and pushed at my shoulder with her rump, wrenching it down and backwards.
I was prepared to scream like a filly; I had the noise building in my throat... but it never got to leave. Something in my shoulder joint let out a pop, then felt surprisingly better.
“Aaaaaagh... Oh. Hey...”
Lifting herself off my side she stepped back. “There. You were saying how it was a smart thing for you to try to tackle a unicorn?”
“I... heh... I didn’t really want to shoot the girl.”
“Oh?” Taxi said, skeptically. “Really? When did you get all chivalrous?”
“Chivalrous?” I snorted, testing the leg and finding it a bit tender. “Delivering a mare to the hospital with a police issue round in her stomach does not strike me as the best way to be ‘discreet.’ Besides, it worked, right?”
Didn’t somepony use that line on you recently? A niggling voice in the back of my head reminded me. I tried to think where; a memory of a raging File Cloud came roaring back. Right...Swift. Gonna have to buy the kid a drink at some point and apologize for that one.
My driver, rather than answer that or berate me further, began poking around through the mess of tools and garbage strewn around the hallway. I hobbled after her on three legs.
She pushed the door to Room 37 inward, and stepped to one side as another cloud of dust spilled out. I fought a sneeze, because doing so would have meant inhaling the horrid air. Instead, I buried my nose in my coat, took deep breaths through the lining, and surveyed the damage.
Everything inside Room 37 which wasn’t nailed down lay in little heaps in every corner. It all seemed to have been blasted back from the exact center of the small space. The walls were bare right down the stone and looked unfinished. A metal panel in the floor was slightly ajar, its hinges twisted and bent.
“I think we found where she got into the security grid.” Taxi muttered, kicking back the panel. It slammed against the floor with a dull clang.
I cast a worried eye back towards the filly in the hall. Taxi caught the look and shook her head. “She’ll be out for an hour, bare minimum.” She assured me. “A rampaging elephant couldn’t wake her after that strike. You should have seen my teacher back in the zebra ze-do do it. Somepony tried to mug him once; I think they’re still in a coma.”
“Yeah, but let’s keep it down until After Glow gets here.” I said, feeling my shoulder start to throb. “I’d rather not try to explain how our mark crawled away, and I’m not carrying any magicuffs for her horn if she decides to try anything besides running. I already got the crap beaten out of me twice today. That’s plenty.”
“Fair enough,” Taxi replied, fishing in her bag for her jeweler’s goggles. She settled them over her eyes and adjusted the magnification lever on one side. We both leaned over the edge of the open maintenance hatch and peered in.
About six inches down the hole was absolutely stuffed with lines of glowing cabling and wire wrapped in intricate ropes around each other that seemed to run back and forth through the floor in both directions. They were all wound around a central trunk as thick around as my foreleg with a line of pulsating lights crawling down it. Some of the wires looked like platinum and gold carved. Somepony had carved tiny symbols into those almost too small to make out.
“That’s the security grid?” I gawked at the lines of rich metal.
“Yeesh... this must have cost a fortune.” Taxi said, quietly impressed. She bent closer. “What’s that?”
Whatever ‘that’ had been seemed to have half melted, half exploded. It was an ugly, tumorous thing attached to the side of one of the larger lines of cable. A baseball-sized sapphire wrapped in tangling fingers of threaded black wire sat at its core, and a dribble of diseased-looking green fluid dribbled from a split up its center of the stone, similar to Svelte’s horn ring. Bits of the fragmented mechanism littered the inside of the hole, though the damage to the cables themselves seemed to be minimal.
“Until we know better, I’m going to call that our listening device,” I said, wiggling down onto my stomach and pointing with my good hoof at the machine’s casing. “Check me on this...Does that look like part of an old toaster to you?”
Taxi scratched her head. “You mean like that hunk of junk you’ve got in your apartment that still runs off gem-power? I guess it does a bit. Speaking of that, when are you going to throw that thing out? It’s older than you are.”
“That was grandad’s toaster!” I replied defensively. “It’s an antique. I’m not just going to toss it out. Besides, it still makes perfect toast.”
“Hardy, it turns the toast blue.”
“Well... yeah, but it’s always perfectly crisp on both sides.” I raised my nose haughtily in a fair imitation of Gyro Technic, then turned my attention back to the mechanism. “Our girl must be a damn genius on a shoestring budget if she’s raiding old appliances for spare parts.”
Fiddling with her goggles a little more, Taxi reached in, digging her rear hooves into the carpet. She picked up a screwdriver that had been laying in a valley between two bits of cable, turning it around in her teeth and tossing it on the carpet.
“Huh...She was trying to remove it when it blew.” My driver said, rolling the screwdriver between her knees. “The magical feedback down her private com frequency straight from the club’s sound system probably burnt her horn-rings first, then bottlenecked here. She must have had a second to step back or it would have done more than burst her eardrums.”
I pulled away, trying futilely to get some of the sawdust out of my mane. “Alright. After Glow can take a look at it later, but frankly, I’m not inclined to futz with a piece of home-brew arcanotech that just did all this.”
“Certainly not. We’re getting you to the clinic to make sure the damage isn’t any deeper in that shoulder. I’m not having your dumb ass crippled for life on my watch.”
“Sweets, I’m fine—” I tried to argue, but my dearest, oldest friend smacked me just above the elbow on my bad knee. I screeched like an owl being fed through a woodchipper and tumbled onto my side. She stood over me, one hoof raised warningly above my throat in the same spot she’d hit Miss Svelte.
“You are getting looked at! If you complain, I’ll yank the others out of their sockets and use you for a door-stop!”
What little dignity I had left was already creeping right out the door, hoping it wasn’t spotted on the way. I supposed the day might have gone worse. The filly could have been dead. Or I could have been.
I shut my eyes in resignation as she helped me up again, most of my weight resting on her back as she let me use her for a crutch. I still resolved to be annoyed, though, and nothing she could have done would take that from me...
...except care enough to keep me from having to drag myself on three legs to the medic’s station. Damn.
I get no respect.
Okay, for this chapter I have to do an author’s note.
I promised myself I wouldn’t do these regularly but CEOkasen and I were in a massive bind and needed to get this out the door. I had to rewrite it from the ground up and we put out a call to our fellow bronies. Several responded and their work made this miles better.
Ebon Mane. The Equestria Daily Pre-reader and author of Merely A Mare. He’s been one of our biggest supporters and is an all around amazing writer. I hope, one day, I get his skill with words. He’s consistently excellent and holds a well deserved place in the Pony Fiction Vault.
Invictus_rising. He’s author of several stories and, in his infinite kindness, took some time out of his day to fix some of my botched sentence structure. I can’t say how grateful I am.
To my readers: Go read their stuff. They deserve the attention!
-Chessie
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WHEEE Detrot!
I sense this chapter has some dangerous Music! *Reads fervently*
Did I get first? I hope so!
Called it!
Oh I had CHILLS just before things went to 11. What a tap into the primal psyche.
And how am I supposed to pick a favorite character if they're all impossibly awesome?
1470852 Heh, yeah, that's one of my favorite bits too. The original writing of Gyro was frankly kinda dull and lifeless. This re-write was TOUGH and Fox and I are going to discuss Chapter 11 heavily before it happens. I need to go back to outlining before I write. I kinda stopped doing that and it shows.
-Chessie
Okay, so now we've got Fluttershy, and Vinyl/Octavia, maybe? Whee!
And yeah, I liked the 'dancing on the edge' bit too. I give it 850 milliVimes.
Wahoo! great chapter...think I told you that though.
Oh...oh you told them to read my stuff...
Man I need to start updating again I guess.
Thanks, and anytime you need me, I'll be here.
-Invictus
Exciting as usual, seems a bit short though... Odd really, given that it's up there with the longest ones...
1471241 I've found that the more action I put into a chapter the shorter it feels. I dunno why that is. Part of me wishes I could write longer chapters but I think the quality of the writing would suffer immensely if I were to try more than once in a while.
The Nightmare Night piece is riding a fine line between being shoved out the door and being worked on extensively over time. I'm praying I can get it out for Halloween but if I can't it'll become a two part episode. I'd rather write something good and have to postpone than write something crap and tarnish a good story. Re-writes are agony.
-Chessie
Heh. It's so early in the mornin' that I didn't pick up on that at first
Charming to have the Grand Inquisitors be essentially Fluttershys- it really brings that touch of ponyness to things. Those little subversions of the noir are awesome. The fellow really, truly ISN'T masking some terrifying secret savagery. He just has The Stare! An even gentler version of it than Fluttershy has/had, too.
Headcanon, reading scholars notes in twilight sparkles voice.
My god even the waffles.
“
Dragonfire for personal correspondence sounds like a wonderful idea!
As for Cloudhammer lightning rifle, Fear my precipitation!
ohho clever little hint here for what happens later, "right up to their ears"
Ooh snow coy uses the stare? Interesting
Reminds me of a phrase from one of the sheriffs you can put to control (in fallout new vegas) primm, “be good or I’ll shoot you dead”.
Why not both? Yaaayyyy
That foreshadowing XD
So a couple of neat side characters with snow coy and the DJ. The plan for overloading the receiver with volume was a neat little trick. Poor Hard boiled, I can see him being put through the ringer even more.
This chapter did seem a little short but I think it’s just because it’s awesome and when you’re having fun time goes quicker.
I'll try to figure out why this one seemed so short! A lot happened. I suppose it was going at high speed. There was a lot going on. Hmmm... oh well!
Nightmare Night is coming up soon and the story is half written. It's NOT going to be a short. We're already 10k in and only halfway through.
-Chessie>>1473712>>1473003
1475803 Like i said it's probably just an illusion of being short because of the way it's written is very interesting/engaging i think. It may also be due to being used to your writing style we take in the info much quicker and such. Getting used to the lexicon as it were shortens the amount of time it takes to process a given part of the story, thus the story appears shorter.
It's all in my head! arrrghhh
1475905 Chyeah, I guess... mew. Well, RB, I'm glad you enjoyed it either way! You've got a special place in my heart for those feedback breakdowns every chapter. I...heh. I've found myself going back and reading them again and again when I need a bit of inspiration.
-Chessie
1475937>>1475937 Well i mean i got the time to spare to do it so why not eh? Besides it's kinda fun, there's lots of little subtle gems in them and being a voracious minecrafter i cannot resist collecting what i can.
aww now i feel all mushy. Just glad you can make use of them.
As per a sort-of tradition, back when the chapter got posted I set it aside to read today. I prefer to go through them when I feel like it so that I may enjoy them more.
From the bit with Snow Coy, it seems that you support the 'short pony lifespan' side, seeing as the story takes place 60 years since FiM and he is a third-generation descendant of Fluttershy (not THAT third generation!). Personally, I support longer, at least human-length lifespans if not more (Granny Smith), which would be yet another difference between Equestrian ponies and human-world horses. Other differences include, for example, the ability to vomit
(fun little trivia). Don't take it as criticism, though! I also happen to support diversity of headcanon: the more different views and interpretations, the more possibilities for creativity!
I simply keep in mind whichever is the headcanon behind a particular piece and so have no problems with it.
Up to eleven? Well, dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/Vinyl_Scratch_lolface.png Also, that music pony is quite cool.
The bit about the communications device made me wonder exactly how do your dragons use magic. Do they do it the incendiary exponent-augmented way?
As for the actual vs. perceived length thing: here we have the wonders of pacing at work. While it is one of the longer chapters, it is paced so that it seems a lot shorter. Something I need to learn to do: the chapters of my own fic are half as long, yet feel like they're dragging out to the length of a full Starlight chapter.
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We are assuming human lifespans. Assuming Fluttershy's age is about 16-20 during the show, she'd be 76-80; it seems conceivable that one of her grandkids could be fully grown and operating as Stare doms.
We'll talk more about dragons at a later time.
Glad you like the pacing; and as always, thanks to all of you for the feedback!
--CEO Kasen
1481272 Meh, ponies have human-ish life-spans. Fluttershy would be in her 80s if she's still alive. I assumed most of them were in their 20s. If she had kids in her 30s and her daughter/son had children in their 30s then the time-line syncs up neatly.
The actual ages of the ponies aren't established in the show and one assumes most of them have retired from public life, either to die or have families. Obviously Fluttershy got to have kids at some point.
It's one of those things I decided not to explore too deeply because this story isn't about the Mane 6. If you find yourself wanting to, I'm always glad to get side-fics and will happily plug them.
The influences of the Mane 6 are obviously felt all across Equestria and even into Detrot which is a pretty far off place.
-Chessie
I'm running out of ways to praise this story without just repeating myself by this point.
But Snow Coy gets ten out of ten yays from me!
Really good chapter; love the continuing references to the show with Snow Coy's use of "The Stare"
I don't know why, but Hard Boiled is reminding me more and more of John McClane or Jimmy McNullty from The Wire, in that he is a very competent cop and a sympathetic character, but he has all these personal flaws that make him fascinating to read. I could talk about this chapter's good points for the rest of the day, but the highlight for me was the interaction between Hardy and Taxi at the end; if those two aren't romantically involved by the end of this story, I will be very surprised.
AHAHAHA its funny because fluttershy had kids and they still act like her. I cant get enough of this story thank you.
1485991 Whew, he was HARD to write. I mean, fingernail pullingly hard. I did enjoy him though. He was enormous fun!
1494826 Heh, you're welcome darling.
1486393 And you have hit the nail directly on the head. My dearly beloved co-writer is a huge fan of both 'The Wire' and the book on which it is based. He forced me to sit down and watch several episodes. Jim McNulty was a heavy influence for Hardy.
-Chessie
Well... that was glorious.
You did a great job with Snow Coy. I felt for him already, and he had like seven lines.
I love the little throwaway lines that show just how much has gone into making these characters real. My new favorite is, "Hardy, it turns the toast blue."
Always a pleasure to read.
Thank you for this brilliant fic !
Two questions keep nagging me though.
1) What turn of events led to situation where Fluttershy's descendants are hiding from the world in Vivarium?
Or is it only Detrot branch of the family ?
I understand from your comments that most possibly it will be not explained in Starlight later, and it only increased my curiosity.
2) If Stilettos do not kill ponies after interaction with Snow Coy - how do they keep secret for so long ?
Are there some additional effects of the Stare like amnesia or something ?
1673482 Who knows? The Stare is The Stare. It seems to have rather severe mind altering effects. The Vivarium manages to operate under the radar mostly through a mixture of fairly extreme intimidation and secrecy. Most ponies don't know they exist outside of there being a somewhat paranoid and over-well armed group of ponies guarding a whorehouse.
Enough years of criminals having painful and extremely embarrassing things happen to them does lend a place a certain reputation, particularly when the perpetrators are largely unknown. The Vivarium dates back to the founding of Detrot, after all, and the Stilettos have had many years to refine the arts of being publicly invisible.
If you want to write the story about how some member of Fluttershy's family ended up working at the Vivarium, I'll be glad to include it as a side-fic on the EQD page. I won't necessarily make it canon, but I'll definitely credit you.
-Chessie
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No, I'm not a writer unfortunately. And English is not my native language. My English is terrible, frankly.
The reason I asked this question is, that the story consist not only wonderful deep characters, but also original and very detailed world.
So I was curious if you had already some story/explanation behind Snow Coy's or may be his parents' past.
1673890 Ahhh, no, I'm afraid we don't have anything like that. Most of the characters pass into the story and then out of it. It's the main characters who're really carryin' stuff right now.
-Chessie
Ok, after looking back over my comments on previous chapters, I've come to the conclusion that doing them as one giant slog as I come across stuff is resulting in an unreadable mess. To (hopefully) help clarify things, I'll be breaking this up like so: I'll have any content-related comments at the top, followed by miscellaneous grammar concerns, followed by categorized examples of common issues. Hopefully that'll make it easier to see the interesting stuff while still satisfying my vaguely OCD tendencies that frown at me if I don't note down typos and such.
Hah, nice touch. I could see Applejack saying this.
I love how you're building Snow Coy up. Waiting for the other shoe to drop is delicious.
Ahh, that scene was masterful. Also very, very creepy.
snerks I'm not sure why, but "dipshit" really struck me as funny for some reason.
I get the feeling that "...or I'll eat you" is Stella's fallback threat, after the "don't buck the pony who's pinching your butt or I'll eat you" in a previous chapter.
I was giggling maniacally throughout this whole scene.
This is the volume. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
The volume is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I master my life...
That's a very Pratchett-esque description there. I love it.
Interesting tidbit. They have dressage here? I wonder what the implications of that are...
I could have sworn that it was called the "NightTrotter" (with no space) in previous chapters...
Another excellent chapter. Probably my favorite so far, to be honest.
Random grammar notes:
Huh. I'm not sure if "an boneheaded" is a valid construct or not. I know that some words -- like "an history" -- have special dispensations where the a/an rule is concerned, and a quick Google search does turn up a sizable number of "an bonehead" results. Not sure if they're correct in this case, but there you have it.
"Ready not doubt" should probably be "ready no doubt".
"From a split up its center of the stone" doesn't parse. "From a split up the center" would work, as would "from a split up its center to the stone", depending on what you're trying to portray.
Grammar rule: If you have a dependent clause after a quote (usually beginning with some variant of "he said"), you need to attach that clause to the preceding quote. This means that a) if the quote ends in a period, it should end in a comma, and b) if the word immediately after the quote wouldn't otherwise be capitalized (i.e. if it's not "I" or a proper name), it should stay that way.
Examples in this chapter:
“Ah’d find it very informative. Ah ain’t never seen a dragon eat nopony before.” That line was awesome.
So, Snow Coy inherited the Stare. I'm... honestly not sure how I feel about Fluttershy's grandchild doing that kind of stuff, but it was a very good part of the story.
Mr Drocsid, CEO and spokesbeing of the Spells, Omens, And Hex Consortium - Equestria's largest arcanotech manufacturer and zebra alchemical importer - was unavailable for comment. Detrot authorities were unable to confirm or deny rumours of cotton-candy microbursts spontaneously appearing and deluging ISO auditors with chocolate milk at the Consortium's lead factory. Reports of ERS revenue agents being trampled by buffalo ballerinas were dismissed as delusional flights of fancy.
Of course it will be informative! They can try all sorts of recipes for Stella. If Glow shaves Hay Maker up Doner kebab style, they will have plenty to experiment with! Taxi can pitch in with her stash of zebra secret herbs and spices, and Swift can taste-test what with her experience with Griffon jerky and chicken nuggets.
It's a mystery
Hay is obviously not thinking this through (a given I suppose as he is just hired muscle). He should be very afraid of Snow; more so siince Snow is very timid and demure. He is, after all, spoken in respectful tones by the matriarch ninja assassin and a powerful river dragon, so he must have done something to earn their respect.
They have gone and weaponised Fluttershy?! Mother of Celestia! We are doomed. DOOOOOMMED!
The last thing Hay Maker will ever see:
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That is saying something coming from a pony who has undoubtedly seen (and possible shanghaied into participating in) a rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody performed by a crazy mortician in the forensics ossuary back at the Castle.
You would think they would have used those rounded up comms jewels to map out and neutralise any remaining dragon detection spells after the war. Nothing too fancy mind you; simply stick one of the communicators thingamunjies on the end of a stick with a bit of plasticine and then wave it around until it goes "POP".
Unless Celestia et al wanted those dragon spells to remain lurking to catch and maim the slippery black marketeer... A few misadventures with exploding jaws and word will get out pretty quick that this technology is not something you want to use illegally.
Audiophiles are certainly a special kind of nutter... Who else would drop 27,000 quid on a single 2 metre cable and an additional 1,260 quid on a pack of "room tuner" stickers? (I kid you not; I am staring at the order page for those aforementioned devices and my jaw has dropped to the floor.)
Jelly-pony says "Don't judge me!"
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Chapter 10: "The Spy Who Wubbed Me" -This can be The Spy who loved me or The Spy who shagged me.
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/4/42/Mike-Myers-Austin-Powers-1-.jpg
Master Snow Coy almost reminds me of Mr. Rogers. At least that's the voice I'm giving him.
nndb.com/people/927/000023858/fredrogersbig.jpg
10-4, en-route, code 3!
Can't wait to read the next chapter!
In noir tradition, I get the feeling that Hardy and Taxi are meant to have that longtime friend/partnership that makes it pretty much pointless or redundant to ship them...
...but I ship them so hard.
I figured it was Fluttershy.
Up to eleven?
Well that was unexpected.... A decendent of Fluttershy in Detrot...
8850756 There will be more than a few such things in the future.
-C
7814487
How did I not clock this!?!?!?
So far, I've noticed:
Slip Stitch = Pinkie Pie
Scarlet = Big Mac
Coy Snow = Fluttershy
Are they descendants, by any chance?
Okay so thats a Pinkie and a Flutters descendant. I’m gonna need to start making a checklist.
Hardy really is the master of snippy banter.
This is Detrot. When there’s no cops around, anything’s legal. This also applies when there is a cop around and he needs something.
-GM, master of laws.
Heheheheheh
Clever, Chessie, very clever...
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Question.
if you were a big burly thug
would you really want to admit that you balled your eye out like an infant because some pony looked at you?
also, if you reread the chapters, after Coy is done with them they do amusing stuff to the victim while they are in such a state, like well... :D its fun stuff