Chapter 11: Ponies Will Pay You to be InhuMane
Starlight Over Detrot: Chapter 11: Ponies Will Pay You to be InhuMane
Ponies get injured. In a world with Equestria’s dangers, it happens with unsurprising regularity. Hospitals are filled with flying accident victims, monster attack survivors, and those whose torsos have uncomfortably intersected farm equipment, in addition to the diseased and the involuntarily enchanted. Fortunately, ponies have adapted and Equestrian medicine is capable of feats which would have been thought impossible just a few decades ago.
Conventional medicine has been augmented drastically by improved documentation, cross-cultural knowledge and the active ingredients present in recently-analyzed herbs; it remains the best path for dealing with diseases and afflictions. Indeed, the pony pox vaccine has saved thousands of lives; dreaded scourges such as feather flu and neighcrotizing fasciitis have been all but eradicated.
Arcane healing is available in more accessible and convenient forms than ever before. Recent advancements have included numerous ways of magically healing visceral trauma, including a sort of telekinetic surgery that allows for noninvasive repair of internal injuries. It takes quite a bit of training for the required control, but in the hooves of a skilled unicorn, it is capable of results previously thought completely outside the realm of pony healers.
Of course, today’s medicine, scientifically developed and methodically applied, cannot cure every ailment.
Still, even when a patient is beyond the help of modern techniques, there may still be hope... if one is willing to pay a price.
--The Scholar
Whatever system they used to navigate was still a mystery to us; the trip to the Vivarium’s medical facility ended up being the long way around. By the time we reached the room marked with a big red cross, Taxi was half-carrying, half dragging me along. She slung my busted flank into one of the waiting room lounge chairs just inside the door. I was in too much pain to do more than grunt with a very masculine facade.
Calling the room a ‘clinic’ might have been too kind a description. Sure, it was about as well stocked as my nearest urgent care, but the extra accoutrements made me want to wash my hooves off rather than touch the tiled floor.
The walls were that sloppy shade of robin’s egg blue that they sell in bulk to doctor’s offices; cheap enough that you can sling on a fresh coat of it to cover really foul stains. There was a complicated examination table that might not have been out of place in an actual hospital. Too complicated, perhaps. Actual tables don’t have quite so many chains, or all those straps dangling from their sides.
My shoulder and side had moved beyond the ‘aching’ stage and a pleasing fuzziness stole over my sensibilities. Never having been a completely sensible pony to begin with, I was knackered. Taxi peeled my coat off my side and nosed around my bruised upper thigh, blowing sawdust off my mane and neck.
“She did a number on you,” she murmured. “You best hope their healers know what they’re doing or you’re going to end up explaining this to the emergency room.”
I tried to shrug; my protesting muscles turned the gesture into a full-body wince. “It feels like I stepped in front of an invisible train.”
"You look a bit like you did.”
“Thanks. So, if this is a clinic, where’s the doctor?”
Leaping onto the chair beside me, my driver crossed her rear legs and picked up a semi-pornographic magazine titled Plot Twist from the small end table, and we performed the ancient ritual that every creature since the beginning of time who has gone to a doctor’s office has been forced to perform: We waited.
After several minutes, an irritable voice came down the corridor. “—so I said, ‘I don’t bloody care what Winter Snip wants! She can damn well wait her...” The voice hesitated, then barked, “Why is my door open?! My shift doesn’t start for another twenty minutes!”
A huffy, middle-aged unicorn tromped in, wearing a pristine lab-coat with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. He was muscular, but still non-threatening, possibly because of a toupee that might as well have been freshly killed. It must have been attached to his head with sticky tack, and the absurd mustache dangling off his upper lip made some very unwise part of me want to reach out and pluck a few hairs, just to see what would happen.
“Hellfire and damnation!” He cursed, tearing his stethoscope off and tossing it onto the table. “I do not do couples and if you two want somepony to watch you play doctor, you can go hunt up one of the nurses!”
The pale pony with the medical satchel we’d met in the hallway earlier trotted in after him and dumped her bag in the corner. “They’re not clients, Pickle. They’re patients.”
Our doctor, presumably ‘Pickle,’ sucked his teeth. “You’re supposed to call me first if there’s been a damn injury! What if I’d been with somepony?”
Grabbing his comm gem, the nurse whacked one faceted side. It rang, like a flicked crystal glass, and turned pink. Pickle’s eyes followed it, then his ears splayed out in both directions.
“If you’d use your talky-stone for something besides bitching to Barrel about the unfairness of your ridiculously well paying job, you’d might have seen you had a message.” She scolded, patting him on the cheek affectionately. “We’ve got another one coming up soon.”
Pickle tried to maintain his gruff exterior but a little smile peeked through. Then he was all professional again. “Let’s see... What’d you get yourselves into-” He stopped as his eyes found the growing bruise on my side and shoulder. “Good heavens! Did you get really over-eager with a cricket bat?!”
“Angry mare with a nasty horn blast.” I replied, turning slightly to one side.
“Ahhh, fillyfriend caught you coming in here with your favorite employee of the Vivarium?” The doctor cocked his head towards Taxi.
She and I looked at each other, then she poked me in the bruise for his indiscretion. I shied away, clenching my teeth against the pain. “No, I don’t work here. This moron decided to try to tackle a magically-skilled unicorn barehoofed. He’s lucky she didn’t tear his head off.”
“Tackle?! My, my, you are a lucky one. May I ask why?” He lifted me easily off the couch with a shimmer from his horn, giving me the dignity of keeping my rear legs on the ground as I stumbled over to the exam table and crawled up onto it.
“We’re working for Stella. That’s all you need to know.” I replied hotly, biting my tongue to keep from swearing as he prodded my leg. His gaze stopped on my badge and gun, then moved on. I felt a soft warmth begin to grow in my neck and the shine from his forehead grew brighter.
"Fair enough.” He said dismissively. “If you’d broken some rule of the club, you wouldn’t be sitting in my office. More likely, you’d be digging yourselves out of a dumpster.”
The heat was building and my foreleg felt like putty, squishing and flattening in an unseemly manner. Two minutes of this treatment made me restless. “Mind if I ask what you’re actually doing, doc?”
“Don’t call me ‘doc.’” His horn shot a reprimanding spark that stung my cheek. I tried to jerk back, but none of the muscles usually involved in that action seemed willing to respond. “I didn’t go to medical school because I like fixing ponies, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t give you a blow by blow.”
“Why... did you go to medical school?” Taxi inquired, picking up a tongue depressor and nibbling on the end of it.
Pickle flapped his tail around and knocked the wooden stick out of her lips, deflecting it with his horn into the biohazard box under the sink. He gave her a sweet, friendly grin that made my spine tingle, although my cutie mark wasn’t doing its warning dance. “Same reason I work here; I like watching ponies in pain.”
“What?!” I tried to yank myself back, but he pinned me to the bed with magic so all I managed was a bit of unsettled tail flicking.
“Oh don’t worry, my dear boy.” He waved his horn back and forth in a figure eight over the bruise. “I will make this brief unless you happen to be paying. I have my desires well under control. The alternatives were criminal interrogation or dentistry, and neither a life of crime nor one perpetually immersed in other pony’s bad breath was quite so attractive.”
The nurse was applying a viscous red liquid to a bandage of some sort and it flitted over to my side. A few seconds after it had been applied, I beat my other leg on the table as electric agony pulsed down to my knee. “Celestia buck me to the moon, what is that?!”
“Healing balm.” She answered, wrapping a white strap around my neck so it was held in place.
“That feels like you just stuck me with a thousand needles!” I whined.
“Unless you wish to find you have an extra knee, I suggest you keep still while I work here. This is simply a scan, but it is best if my information is accurate.” Pickle murmured, his horn flickering and flashing. I did my best, but the sensation of things moving around under my skin was so creepy I couldn’t help kicking my rear legs. “You have a few minor hairline cracks in the bone and the joint is damaged.”
“Can you fix it?” Taxi asked, watching the motions the doctor made very intently.
“Oh yes. Common injuries, but without magic you’ll be limping around for a few weeks. I’ll have to handle the swelling though.” The nurse stated matter of factly, adjusting the bandage so it fit more completely over the angry purple splotch on my side. As an afterthought, she added, “Pickle is good with bones but bruises... well, he’s good at putting them there. Just wear this for a few hours and you’ll be fine.”
“Is it still too late to go to an actual doctor?” I yelped as the sadistic unicorn jabbed me good and hard in the side. ‘
“I am an actual doctor. Now then... get ready. I’m going to enjoy this a lot more than you are.” Pickle bit his lip, shut his eyes, and his horn became too bright to look at.
“Can I have an anaesthetic?!” I shouted. The rapidly building burn gave me just enough time to realize that I should have asked this much sooner.
I am thankful that there’s an upper limit for how much pain a body can feel before it turns itself off. I’m pretty sure I had time to scream, and I couldn’t have blacked out for more than about thirty seconds. The sensation was akin to having my whole body covered in adhesive bandages and duct tape, then having it all torn off in one go.
Time seemed to have moved without my participation. When I returned to sensibility, Taxi was next to me, her hooves pinning my neck down as Pickle blew a bit of smoke off his horn. My shoulder felt blissfully neutral, though the muscles further down were still screaming bloody murder. Overall, despite my brain still trying to convince itself otherwise, it actually felt better.
“Now then, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” The doctor snickered to himself. “Actually I lie. It was probably awful.”
I made a lunge for his throat. My driver barely held me back from throttling the deranged pervert within an inch of his life, pulling me back as I struggled to climb over her restraining forelegs.
“Lemme at him!” I yowled, gnashing my teeth. “I’m gonna tear his horn off and shove it where Celestia can’t reach!”
Taxi stepped between the doctor and myself to prevent that, whilst readjusting the strap on my healing compress so it sat more comfortably. “Look at it this way. He’s probably going to be the one fixing our spy’s eardrums. Unless you want to deprive her of this lovely experience then I suggest you back off.”
Pickle just watched impassively while his nurse tugged a fresh sheet of plastic over the exam table.
I dipped my chin, still heavily considering going for my gun. Putting one in each of his rear knees and using him for a wheelbarrow might have been really satisfying. My leg did feel stronger, though, and he wasn’t the one who’d injured me. I grumpily batted at my trigger bit, letting myself be led back to the waiting chair beside the door, just in time for said door to swing open and smack me squarely in the freshly healed thigh.
“Gah! Bucking bastard whore-”
“Who ye’ callin’ ‘whore,' boy?! Git out the damn way!”
I went completely weightless as a swirl of magic caught me me, the chair, and Taxi, and shoved all three of us to one side. My organs all sloshed unpleasantly against my ribcage.
Granny Glow’s rear end backed into the clinic as she carried a bundled shape underneath a piece of rough canvas sheeting over her head.
“We got an injury here.” She growled, spilling the unconscious body onto the examination table. Tearing the sheet away, she tossed it in one corner, revealing Svelte’s disheveled form. Her apron was smeared with bits of wood and drywall dust. “Pickle! Prime yer spike and stick yer dick in some ice. We need this ’un up and at’em soon as ye can.”
“Oh, not another!” The medical dom swept his stethoscope onto his head and immediately pressed it to Svelte’s chest before prying back one of her eyelids with one hooftip and inspecting her pupils. “Is this that unicorn you mentioned?”
“Yeah. Did ye not hear the noise earlier?” Glow asked, putting her hooves up on the bedside.
“I was in storage number seven getting fresh speculum sheaths. I thought it was the plumbing having an issue.” He said defensively, then turned to the nurse who was pushing some kind of magnifier into Svelte’s ears, inspecting them. “Pansy?”
“Her eardrums are... gone.” Pansy pulled the tool out of the sleeping mare’s ear canal and wiped it on the sheeting. She gave me a look that was pure accusation. “This... looks like she was next to an explosion, but no shrapnel wounds or anything. I thought you said you tackled her?”
“I might have blown her up with the club sound system first. Then my partner here did some zebra trick that put her out.” I noticed my hat sitting on the floor beside the table and got up to retrieve it, setting it back on my head. I wasn’t aware of it having fallen off, but then, whatever healing spell Pickle hit me with left it hard to be aware of anything. “How long are you going to take to get her awake? She’s got some questions to answer.”
“Awake?! This pony should be in a hospital!” Pansy shouted, stomping on the tiles. “I can fix her eardrums and probably the concussion, but what if her personal ley lines were damaged? She might lose the ability to use magic for years!”
“She was using magic just fine the last time I saw her.” Taxi put in, gruffly. “She was flinging around sawhorses.”
The nurse paused mid-tirade, her muzzle still open. “Even if her magic is fine, I’m still insisting we get her to a hospital—”
After Glow grabbed the younger mare in a levitation field and tore her off her hooves, suspending the helpless escort upside down in front of her heavily lined face. “Yer doin’ no such insistin’, missy! Ah ain’t lettin’ this twat outta mah sight. She’s a threat to the Vivarium and iffen ye wanna have a job come tomorrow, yer gonna get her up and chatty.”
The grand ol’ grizzly would have no argument where her charge’s life was concerned. Better ponies than Pansy had confronted Granny Glow in situations far less dire than ours, and found their wills wanting.
“Y-yes ma’am!” Pansy wailed. “P-p-please put me down!”
“That’s better!” Glow dropped her in a heap then swung her horn towards the doctor, who was doing his best to look very small. “Pickle, ye go get any other ponies what know medicine magic. Oh, and git one who knows some numbin’ spells. Ah find out ye cast that screamy magic-pain healin’ shit on this filly and her heart exploded, ah’ll cast it on you... after ah peel ye!”
“Wait. ‘Heart exploded?!’” I threw myself to my hooves, feeling momentarily light headed.. “Tell me you did not use, on my personal body, a spell that can make hearts explode!”
“I’ll just go get the rest of the medical-play staff then!” Pickle said hastily as he bolted for the door, his coattails flapping in the breeze. By the time I got my bit into my teeth to put a slug into his flank, said flank was out the door and around the corner.
****
There wasn’t much to be done until Pickle and his crew managed to fix Svelte’s injuries, so I gingerly hoisted myself up, got a map on a napkin from Granny Glow, pulled another tongue depressor out of Taxi’s mouth, and went looking for Swift.
The early afternoon was about as busy as any other time in the Vivarium, with ponies coming and going at their leisure. We wandered semi-aimlessly, following Glow’s directions and occasionally passing patrons on their way to places unknown and activities best not considered.
Even at its worst, the Vivarium had a strangely peaceful feeling about its odd halls and twisting passageways. It was unusual in Detrot; in a city that, too often, felt like it just needed one good push to send it spiraling into the grave, the brothel was a place of intense, soulful activity. Taxi, being of a more progressive mindset than I, might even have labeled it ‘healthy.’
****
Our destination was something called the ‘hypocaust,’ which defied my vague dread by turning out to mean ‘bathhouse.’ I took the time to work out the remaining kinks in my muscles and let myself calm down.
I felt the baths before I saw them. If the dance floor was sweaty, the atmosphere in the club’s bathhouse was like somepony tossing a bucket of hot water in your face. Despite attempts to seal the space away with a few layers of self-closing doors, nothing in the world could have stopped the heavy humidity from making my tail frizz so bad, I was tempted to resort to stealing one of Taxi’s hair-ties and wrapping it up in a bun.
We continued on, until I caught the rich smell of perfume and steam through a pair of swinging doors at the end of a short hall. The air had a palpable weight to it and I shucked my coat and gun, folding it over and stuffing as much of it as I could into one of Taxi’s saddle-bags. I left my harness and hat on, reasoning the moisture couldn’t hurt them much.
Feeling more naked than I had any reason to considering ponykind’s general lack of issues with nudity, I did my best to look like a casual customer in for a swim. How my driver manages never to seem out of place is one of those little miracles — and one of those things that made her such a good undercover cop — but I still stuck out like a spoon in a fork factory.
The bathhouse was arranged in a low-ceilinged, open cave with a few partitions for privacy. At the entrances to those partitions were some coded arrangement of black and green flags, which I took to indicate occupancy. Pools of variously colored water steamed between low walkways. Only a few souls were socializing, bathing, or fornicating at that time of the afternoon.
There was a brilliantly hued red blot in the fog off to our left, which seemed to be having an argument with a dressing room door. I approached cautiously, on the off chance there was somepony in the world into door domination of some kind, but the blot turned out to be the familiar, feminine shape of Scarlet with a half dozen fluffy towels on his back.
“You can’t stay in there forever! Come on, Swift, it’s not that bad...” Scarlet cajoled, tipping the towels off his back onto the floor. Underneath them, Swift’s uniform and tactical jacket were freshly laundered and pressed.
“Yes it is!” My partner called back from inside the dressing room. “Why did you have to wash my mane? It’s not like I even got anything on it! Ugh...I look ridiculous...”
The stallion saw us coming, held a hooftip to his lips then spoke through the door again, "You're being a little diva, you know."
That did it. The dressing room's door blew open and a tiny package of raging, feathery embarrassment pushed her nose up against the escort’s pretty face. "Diva?! I'm gonna coat you in Daisy’s liquid latex an-yeep!"
Swift noticed her audience and scuffled her hooves on the slick tile as she tried to back into the little closet. They went immediately out from under her and she took a tumble onto her chin. And when I got a good look at her, I sympathized with her desire not to be seen.
On any other pony the look would have been just absurd; on Swift it was so saccharine and over the top that I began taking quick breaths so as not to laugh myself stupid. Whether as a byproduct of the wash or the humidity, her damp mane had popped into poofy little curls and her tail was no longer braided. It was like a tuft of especially fluffy cotton balls which some mad fool had painted maroon. Something in her fur gave it a glossy finish, emphasizing the overall impression of a foal dunked in canola oil and styled to look like a porcelain doll.
Behind me, I could hear Taxi wheezing as she fought with the impulse to say whatever was on her mind; the look in Swift’s eyes was one of abject humiliation.
There are times for cops to exchange guff with one another; it helps relieve the stress of the job, and can foster comradeship during tense moments. This was clearly not one of those times.
“Sir? C-could you please just...go ahead and shoot me?” She muttered, hiding her face under one wide wing.
“Lemme guess... You use about a gallon of mane gel every morning to make your hair do that spiky thing, right?” I asked, feeling around in my pocket until I found a comb.
She nodded, taking the comb from me and trying futilely to get her mane back in place. “Can we please not tell anypony about this, sir?”
“Cross my heart, hope to fly... such and such, whatever. Either way, you can’t go out in public with me like this. I’ve got a reputation, and anypony we tried to interrogate would giggle themselves insensate.” I turned to my driver. “Hmmm, Sweets? You got any of that stuff you used to use when you were going through your ‘mohawk’ phase?”
“The stylist’s cement?” Taxi asked, then grinned and popped the clasp off her saddlebag. “You know, I just might. Let me take a look.”
Five minutes and half a tube of asparagus-scented cream later, we’d managed to tame Swift’s unruly locks into a spiked mane so hard that it was practically a weapon. I had Taxi give her tail a quick run through with the comb and a lighter dose of the product. Once done, I had her turn in a slow circle, then grabbed her tactical vest off Scarlet’s neck and threw it around her shoulders. She hesitated, reaching for her uniform.
“Wait... skip the blouse.” I instructed. “Just the vest for now.”
Beneath an uncertain gaze, she shrugged her legs through the holes and pulled the zip shut. I took three steps back and eyed her carefully; from a distance, one might almost have convinced themselves she was some type of private security. Short, tangerine private security using too much mane fixer, but It was still a distinct improvement.
“Yeah, that’s much better. What do you think?” I stepped sideways so Taxi and Scarlet could see.
“Something’s missing,” Taxi murmured. Stepping forward she pulled Swift’s badge off of the uniform’s top, hooking it to the front of the vest. “There. Much better.”
The stallion’s lips fell into a disappointed frown. “Oh birdy, you look like some kind of awful commando dressed like that. At least with the blouse on I could pretend. What would your mom think?”
“Mom would probably hide under a pillow if somepony besides dad glared at her too hard!” Swift patted her chest, wiggling to get comfortable with the new setup. “Sir, are you sure this is okay? I mean, my professor in the Academy always said that the uniform is one of our tools and we should respect its integrity.”
Memory raised a quizzical eyebrow. “That wouldn’t happen to have been Carnival, would it?” I asked, strolling over to the nearest pool and dipping a hoof in it.
“Oh... yes!” Swift looked surprised. “I had Professor Carnival for ‘Duty And Ethics.’”
“Duty and Ethics.” Taxi squeezed condensed water out of her braid. “I wondered where they stuck him. Best place for him, really.”
“Best place for him would have been retirement.” I bit back, my breath fogging in front of my face. “Kid, did you ever wonder why a cop who takes his job so damn seriously is teaching rather than working a beat? Or about his limp?”
I shook my head and pulled the uniform from Scarlet’s back, holding it up. Despite the laundering, it still smelled a bit weird.
“H-he didn’t seem really happy there...” Her eyebrows rose. “What about his limp? I mean, I noticed but nopony ever said anything about it. I thought it was just how he walked.”
“They’re being polite...” My driver murmured. “He’s... well, he really is a good teacher—”
“He’s an idiot.” I spat.
Taxi’s expression sank. “Hardy, don’t—”
“No, she deserves to hear this.” Folding the uniform, I spread it out under me so I could keep my stomach off the wet stone, then sat down before addressing Swift. “There’s a bit of a story there. Professor Carnival used to be Detective Carnival, a few years ago when I was still just ‘Officer Hard Boiled.’ He was the darling of the old police chief, and he had a certain something which, in theory, makes criminals shake in their boots. He had faith in the law.”
“Faith, sir?”
“Yeah, faith. He believed.” I lifted my hooves towards the ceiling like I’d seen some of the Loonies do during their little prayer services. “He thought it was the uniform that made the cop, and that if he just believed enough then there was nothing that couldn’t be achieved.”
“To be fair, he did get some really high profile criminals in front of a judge.” Taxi added, as though I needed the reminder.
“Solving cases doesn’t make you invincible, Sweets. I should know.” I replied.
Both Swift and Scarlet were sitting in rapt interest. Rivulets of water dripped from both of their manes, but neither seemed to mind.
I continued. “His last case involved the shutdown of a drug den which served some of the richest Beam the city had ever seen. Real nasty sorts. With his back-up still five minutes away, he walked right in amongst a bunch of dealers and their patrons and demanded ‘In the name of the law’ that they surrender.”
Swift’s lower jaw sagged. “He did what?!”
“That’s right.” I smacked the tile, feeling a light burn in my chest, unable to hold back a twitch of anger as I recounted the events. “His partner at the time was this sweet kid named Rotunda. He was all starry-eyed for Carnival. Everypony thought there were big things in his future, and the two of them together had put the fear of Celestia in the hearts of some baaad sorts. Rotunda believed. He had faith. Faith in Carnival. Faith in the uniform.”
I stared off into space, remembering Rotunda marching around the office, animatedly telling everypony about a particularly funny collar involving a vat of taffy and a cactus.
“What happened then?” Scarlet prompted then covered his mouth. “Sorry...”
“It’s fine. What happened is what always happens when ponies with faith run up against ponies with guns and heads full of drugs.” I slouched dejectedly, rubbing one fetlock with the other. “Carnival managed to get to cover after taking only five bullets in his rear left leg. Rotunda tried to provide covering fire.”
“They got out of there then, right?” Swift wanted to know.
“If only.” Shoving myself to my hooves I paced up and down the side of the bathing pool. “I don’t know if you know anything about Beam but... it’s combustible in its raw form. Oh, and one of the dealers hit a propane tank, which burst and filled the whole area with gas. Nopony knows who fired the next bullet. Doesn’t matter now, I guess.”
“Y-you mean...” said Swift, trepidatiously.
“Yep. All that Beam and gas went up at once. They found Carnival high out of his mind, bleeding from a few holes, and laying in a pile of trash. He spent three months in Sacred Sun Rehab getting back on his hooves.”
“W-what about Rotunda?” Swift asked, nervously.
My tail began slashing at the air. “He was... well, alive.”
Taxi’s closed her eyes and muttered, “Healing magic wasn’t near so good back then as it is these days. There was a lot of nerve damage because of the Beam. The doctors managed to regrow his face and give him some alright prosthetics for his front legs but his sight...” She left the sentence to hang there like the last note of a particularly sad song.
“Kid, you have to realize that what makes you a cop isn’t something you’re given, like your pistol or your flak jacket. It’s something that stays with you.” I pulled my badge out and unlooped the chain from my throat, kicking the metal shield across the tile to her. “Even without this, I’m still a cop. Drop me on an island in the middle of nowhere, take away my gun... and I am still a cop.”
I patted her uniform blouse. “This isn’t magical. It’s fabric and thread. At best, it will give you the weight of the Detrot Police Department behind you. At worst... it will make you a target. And doing the kind of work we’re doing right now, you don’t need to be more of a target.” Pressing the badge to her chest with my toe, I held it there meaningfully. “You are still a cop, as long as you’re defending ponies.”
It was a pretty line that Juniper recited to me on nights when we were out walking down some cold, stinking street during my rookie years. It was technically true, but it was the sort of line nopony who has had time to grow cynical and mean under the sometimes oppressive weight of the job would get comfort from. Still, it had the desired effect on my green-as-grass right hoof; Swift held her head a bit higher and began folding the remainder of her uniform into a neat square she could shove it down into one of her spare pockets.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll remember.”
“Good. We caught the pony who was spying. She’s down in the clinic getting patched up. You ready to go?”
She pulled a golden locket out of one of the pouches on her flak jacket and tugged it on, tucking the locket inside her vest. After making sure it was secreted away properly, she returned to parade rest. “I’m ready, sir.”
“I need you with me down there when we interrogate her. You’ve got an eye for detail and a head for taking notes."
Swift tilted her head quizzically. "Why don't you use one of the club's interrogation tops?"
"I'd rather try the old carrot and stick. It would be more useful to have her on our side. I'm going to need you to take a close record of everything she says, alright?"
Taxi gave me one of her special, brand name ‘I’m going to make you regret buttering up the scrub’ looks; it was a smug half-smile mixed with a healthy helping of knowing amusement. I wished I’d known some of those zebra moves of hers, so I could wipe it off her face.
Swift snapped a fountain pen from her tactical vest’s inner pocket and held it in her teeth. “Yeth, thir!”
Scarlet’s communications gem pinged and he pulled it off the tether around his neck, holding it up to his ear. “Pickle says they’re going to be done with Miss Svelte in about five minutes. He’ll have Pansy keep her sedated if you’d like to freshen up first.” His eyes filled with devilry. “I could wash your back...”
“Aaand that’s us going!” I snatched my coat from Taxi’s bag and pulled it over my shoulders.
****
The clinic was packed. All I could see was two eye-pleasing flanks wedged side-by-side in the doorway. A hum that I could feel in my bones had the whole hallway vibrating and the air pulsated, deforming the light so everything in the seemed to be under the glow of a flickering television screen just inside the doctor’s little playroom.
Taxi, Swift, and I approached cautiously, as one does when confronted with anything magical. Enough years living in Equestria, and thus absolute saturation of mystical energies, teaches a survival instinct where the arcane is concerned. It wasn’t quite fear of death; most magical injuries are survivable, but there are some you wouldn’t want to.
Scarlet just ignored it, marching forward like the office wasn’t packed with a bunch of heavily concentrating mage-ponies who could turn him into soup with a thought.
The hum dropped off a bit along with strange lighting effects, then the two buttocks wiggled until they could back out of the room. A clown-car procession of unicorns, in various costumes and states of undress, followed them out and began to disperse in different directions, talking to one another in low voices.
After a minute the room was empty, save for Pickle, After Glow, and Pansy, who were sitting together on either side of the bed, sharing something from three steaming mugs. Svelte was laying under the sheet on the hospital table, her front and rear hooves strapped down, still unconscious. Somepony had the decency to clean the blood off her face and ears and fold up her apron on the counter.
A black mass rested on top of it which took me a bit to identify as our spying device, disconnected from the club security system. It really was a foul looking thing.
“Ehhh, Detective! Yer lookin’ like ye had a swim.” After Glow set her cup on the bed beside the sleeping unicorn.
“I may as well have. How is our mole? Still in dreamland?” I asked, hopping up onto an empty chair beside Svelte and turning my head to one side so I could see her face properly. I had a sudden image of myself in a similar position, not twenty four hours ago, standing over the corpse of another filly.
“Aye, she’s nappin’.” Glow answered, bumping Svelte’s silvery horn with her hooftip. “Will be until we bring her out of it. Even then, she ain’t castin’ any spells for awhile.”
Taxi sniffed at the cup then made a face. “Yuck... what is this stuff?”
Pansy slurped another muzzle-full and grinned. “Think of it as ‘unicorn juice’. It’s a mixture of caffeine, taurine, and some magical herbs. Miss Glow insisted we do a very quick, very precise healing job. We used your spy’s reserves first, then our own. She’s going to be feeding herself by hoof for days.”
Swift licked a drip off the side of her grandmare’s glass. The effect was as though she’d licked very angry paint thinner; She tumbled over as if pushed by an unseen hoof, hacking and coughing. “Ugh, gross! Gran, you don’t know any healing magic! Why are you drinking that stuff?!”
“Heh, ah like it. Anyway, ye wanna git this here show on the road?” The elderly pony pointed towards Scarlet who was leaning on the door-frame, listening to chatter on his com-gem intently.
“Mistress Stella is watching and says we can proceed at any time.” The escort nodded at a particular point on the ceiling.
“Alright, if we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.” I drew myself up and pulled off my coat and hat, setting them on the chair, leaving just my badge hanging around my neck. “Pansy, get out. Thank you for your services. I hope we won’t need them again today.”
Pansy got to her hooves and went to the door, stopping there to peer back at Svelte before vanishing into the afternoon crowd. I shifted my attention towards Pickle. “You start doing whatever you need to to wake her up.” The doctor obediently began focusing a thin stream of glittery light at Svelte’s forehead. Lastly, turning towards the rose-colored stallion waiting expectantly at the door, I put my hooftip on his chest; he let out a perverse moan at the contact. “You go get Hay Maker. I want him here.”
Scarlet started to back out, then faltered. “Wait, what? Are you sure-”
“Now wait a gol’ dang second! That’s mah prisoner! Ye don’t let yer prisoners in the same room together during no interrogation! Where do ye get-”
“Sir, police manual on interrogation of suspects-”
Rather than respond to the cacophony, I snatched up Pansy’s abandoned mug and slammed it against the floor. The high-pitched tinkle of ceramic shards scattering underhoof preceded the intended silence. All eyes were on me and all mouths blissfully shut. I pulled out the chair nearest the wall and sat, sighing as the weight came off my aching knees.
“Now then,” I said as I reclined, “we seem to have an issue of jurisdiction. Which one of you wants to take total responsibility for the survival of the Vivarium?”
“Now see here, ye git-”
“No, you see here! You sent me out there to hunt down this girl because you didn’t know which of your own people betrayed you. You knew the place was watched. You could have sent Stilettos, but you’d have to hope none of them were your spy and she didn’t notice any changes in your duty rosters or movements.”
“That is beside the damn point...” The old unicorn glowered at me.
“It is the center of the ‘damn point!’” I bit back, kicking the chair I was sitting on so it toppled against the wall. “You had nothing!”
“...we intercepted the transmission...” Scarlet whispered and I stared him down until he bit his own tongue.
“You had nothing. She’s clever and she made one mistake as she was trying to leave, if you could call it that. I don’t think anypony could have planned for what I did.” Sweeping back the sheet over her side, I tapped her key and leaf cutie mark. “This mare is obsessed with her own security. If she didn’t even tell her henchmen her real name, she’s not going to tell us, but it sounds like he’s worked with her for awhile. Ponies like her don’t make friends. They have tools and they abandon them when they’re not useful anymore. And yet, for some reason, she’s kept him around.”
“Thas’ more reason we oughta keep ’em from seein’ each other!” Glow barked, sloshing her mug of magical coffee as she gestured with it.
“She could have hidden for a few hours or snuck out during the search, but she didn’t want us to find that.” I indicated the hunk of wires and metal on the counter. “We’d have scanned Hay Maker magically eventually and gotten the tooth. Then we’d have found the listening device. She knew that. We just took a quick and dirty path. That says to me she doesn’t want ponies to know how she works.”
“Sir... um... why do we need Mister Hay Maker though?” Swift asked, folding back a fresh page of her notebook.
“We need a lever, and the one pony who might provide us with a whole mountain of information on where this girl has been and what she’s done over the last six months is sitting in one of your spare rooms. If you want to stop listening to me, I will find another avenue of inquiry and you lot can handle this yourselves. Otherwise-” I shoved Scarlet backwards through the door. “-get the Celestia-bucking bodyguard!” Closing it perhaps a bit more forcefully than was necessary, I righted my chair and set it beside the bed then sat down, waiting for Pickle’s magic to take effect.
The others were sitting in speechless shock. I left them to it and began sorting through my pockets for something to eat; I came up with one of the last of the bag of congealed sweeties and sucked at it until it was soft enough to chew. Glow came out of her befuddlement first, trying to recover some composed dignity by pulling out a smoke and puffing at it a bit; it was some seconds before she realized the cheroot wasn’t lit. Swift picked up her pen and switched back in her book some, scribbling at a page which I noticed said ‘The Detective’ across the top.
Taxi scooted close and whispered from the corner of her mouth, “Nice show. Was that for Stella’s benefit?”
I replied just as softly, using the hum from Pickle’s horn to cover my words, “Yes. For some reason he wants to trust me. I want to know how far that goes.”
The doctor clapped at the floor for attention and said, without looking at up, “She’s coming out of it. We laid about six kinds of sleeping enchantment on her. The first three sedation magics we tried practically melted off whatever she’s using for counterspells. We had to get creative, so this is taking a bit.”
I stepped up to the bed. Swift's pen-scratching stepped up slightly. After Glow's lifted her cup over the girl's head, ready to brain her with it if it came to another bout of hoofticuffs. Taxi crossed her rear legs into a lotus position on her chair and began taking deep, slow breaths.
A long moment passed where nothing happened. Pickle's horn sputtered and the shine vanished. He stepped back and flicked his eyes at Svelte, who still hadn't moved.
"We know you're awake." I said to her, rubbing my jawline. "The unicorn beside you is old, impatient, and extremely violent. I know of at least one pony whose genitals she has super-glued, so I would heartily recommend you talk to us before she starts feeling artsy-craftsy."
At that, the spy’s sharp, green eyes snapped open and she surveyed the room, taking in all of the ponies around her at a go. Her gaze moved towards the door then the ceiling before settling on my face.
It was there again. The burning in my cutie-mark. The sense of wrongness. Her features were well formed and attractive. but something in them was like a winter’s morning. I could almost hear the clicketyclick of an adding machine running behind those eyes. She was calculating.
Panic flashed in her face and she struggled for an instant to rise, then relaxed into the blankets. It was such a perfect act that even I doubted for an instant whether or not I’d grabbed the right pony.
“What happened?” She gasped, her high voice fearful, as she rubbed her brow with one hooficured toe. “I was just checking one of the storage rooms-”
After Glow slapped her across the face with a light flash of horn energy. The pretty mare’s entire body jerked. “Eeehhh shaddup. Ain’t foolin’ nopony here, cuteness.”
The moment Svelte touched her stinging cheek, the chill returned to her expression. I felt like I was looking at an industrial machine, beautifully tuned, as it churned through tasks one after the other.
“I am caught then.” She said, almost to herself. Her voice lost all feeling, taking on a tone I’d only heard in the truly sick cases; sociopaths, axe murderers, stock brokers and the like. “This is a first. My work, to date, has been impeccable. I must adjust my algorithms.”
I held out my leg in a friendly manner. ““Do you mind if I express some real admiration?” I flicked my hoof at the doctor. “Pickle, get the girl something to drink. Non-magical.”
The girl touched her toetip to mine, a picture of absolute composure. By all rights, had she been a suspect I’d brought into the station, she should have been shrieking for her lawyer. Instead, she squirmed up in bed as Pickle held a cup of water to her mouth and allowed her to take a few sips..
“Thank you, Detective.” She murmured, licking her lips.
“You can call me, Hardy. Do you mind if I just use ‘Svelte?’ It seems to fit you, and we don’t particularly need your real name for this.”
“That will be fine. I am not inclined to give out my actual title and even under duress, you’d never know if I was telling you the truth.” The mare replied, with a thin smile. “Besides, I have used that name for some time and become partial to it.”
“Svelte it is, then.” I said, cocking an ear toward Swift who was still burning through words in her tiny, clipped mouth-script.
Turning towards the cup Pickle still held she stared at it intently; a look of mild surprise crossed her face. Rolling her eyes up towards her horn, she tapped at the tip lightly with her hoof. “I... oh... I suppose you tapped out my arcane reserves.”
“That’s right.” I confirmed. “I’m afraid I don’t know precisely how that works, but I’m told it’s only a temporary inconvenience. Now then, since you know who I am then I assume you’ve done some research since yesterday?”
“I would not be a very good at my job if I let something like you passing through my zone of observance go unmarked. I was leaving today and I determined that your presence would not alter my equations nor my exit vector. I—” Her soft, white cheeks pinkened. “I have miscalculated.”
“We all done made some mistakes, honey bunch.” After Glow yanked the bed a bit closer to her jowly face with a burst of telekinesis. Pickle leapt back, lest he be crushed. “What we wanna know is who yer sweet flank is workin’ for, afore I start decidin’ which bits ah wanna carve off it and—”
I cut in before the security pony could give me more nightmares. “That’s enough!” The unicorn stopped, then opened her muzzle to say or do something that would probably have ended with me in a mountain of pain. Her eyes drifted over my back to where Swift sat, still taking notes and she forced her temper down.
“Ye best get somethin’ outta this or ah swear...”
I couldn’t resist needling her just a little more. “Yes, yes, swear all you like. For now, we’re doing this my way.”
Moving my chair closer to the bed’s new location, I leaned back in it. “Now, Miss Svelte. We healed you. We’ve got your accomplice here in the building and that device you used to break into the security system. These ponies think you’re part of a blackmail scheme of some kind operated by King Cosmo, the Ace distributor. I think there’s more to it, but I would appreciate if you would fill in the blanks.”
Svelte lay back, snuggling down into the soft pillow behind her head. Her mouth smiled, although her eyes didn’t. “We are both professionals, Hardy. I do not think I will do that. My equation balances on you having things you need to know from me and what I can bargain out of it beforehoof. Until I have guaranteed my own egress along with adequate recompense for my troubles, I see no advantage. Unless you are intent on torture or attempting to use that quiet hypnotist, who I don’t see amongst your number, then I have had a long day and would like to plan my escape while I nap.”
Sliding off my seat I trotted to the door and tugged it open. A small pack of Stilettos waiting in the hallway raised a mixture of extremely sharp weaponry, preparing to turn any unauthorized pony who might be trying to leave into an equine smoothie. They relaxed when they saw my face. Scarlet was out there beside them, his com-gem glued to his ear. He looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow.
I turned back to the bed. “Don’t let me keep you. You can go at your leisure. The guards won’t stop you.”
Glow’s magic gathered around the door and it crashed against the frame so hard the hinges splintered. Pickle leapt into a corner beside the counter and hunkered down, covering his head with his hooves and shaking fearfully.
“The hay they won’t!” Granny Glow shouted, her voice cracking with tension. “Ah’ve had it about up to mah eyes with yer ass, boy, and—”
Pulling my hat off the counter I set it on my head, ignoring the raging unicorn. “Swift, we’re leaving. Get your things. Taxi, go warm up the damn car.”
My driver stood and moved in the direction of the exit; she knew this game. The pegasus, predictably, didn’t move.
“Sir? We can’t just go...” Swift said, swapping her pen around to the other side of her mouth with her tongue.
“Yes, yes we can.” I replied, evenly. “It’s obvious Miss Glow doesn’t need my help here.” I gave her a quick wink.
Swift’s eyes widened a little, then she let out a long, dramatic sigh and shut her notepad. Not the finest piece of acting I’d ever seen, but a worthy effort.
Granny Glow watched the none-too-subtle interplay for a bit longer then dragged her tail around her rear ankles and covered her face with her foreleg. “Alright, alright, don’t go gettin’ all passive aggressive about it... This ain’t onea them movin’ pictures.” She pulled the door open again with her horn, leaving it hanging loosely from one hinge. “Girly wants to go, she can go.”
Svelte didn’t move for a few seconds. Her eyes were full of suspicion but she pulled the sheet off her legs and slid down, catching herself on the side-table before she could fall. I waved her on out of the room, encouragingly.
She took three steps towards the busted door then exhaled an angry breath and dropped her beautifully shaped rear end onto the floor. “Fine, so I was bluffing. How did you know?”
I kicked the door and it swung slowly shut, then sidled up beside her, leading her back to the bed. She climbed back onto it and tugged the covers up to her chin. The calculating overtones were still there but overlayed now then a heap of uncertainty. She’d gone from grief, to anger, to acceptance all in a matter of seconds. Her mind was rational in a way I could only envy.
“Well, knowing the mob, I doubt they’d do more than simply shoot a failed spy who’d gotten herself caught and not managed to escape with the last of her surveillance information... but it was that transmission we picked up that gave it away.” I replied, bumping my hoof against Pickle’s rear where it stuck out of the cowering ball of stallion wedged into the corner. He raised his head then hopped up and frantically dashed out the door. That handled, I returned to the bedside.
“You’ve had months to figure out the security procedures here and you just happened to let them catch your transmission yesterday?” I shook my head. “No. The first time I could believe it was an accident, but twice? Not a chance. You wanted us to catch your partner, or at least reveal him if we didn’t manage to capture him. I’m still figuring out why. Speaking of that, Miss Glow? Could you see if Hay Maker is here yet?”
Pulling her communicator out of her purse, Granny Glow thwacked it on the floor then gave it a good shake until it lit up. “Yep... jus’ outside.”
“Send him in.”
It was a very timid boxer who nosed open the clinic’s door and edged inside; he had obviously suffered... at the hooves of somepony with a twelve year old’s fashion sense.
Taxi made a gagging noise, stuffing her hoof in her mouth and my throat did a quick jog as I swallowed a chuckle sideways, leaving me coughing against one of the counters. Swift’s brain utterly failed to compute and she just rolled onto her side, front and rear legs churning the air in paroxysmal seizure.
The pigtails in poor Hay Maker’s mane had the tips dyed pink and his tail was a mass of ribbons so dense he was probably better off just cutting it free rather than trying to untie the mess. A purple tutu hung around his middle, dragging the floor with each step.
Granny Glow gave him an appraising look, then wrapped him in magic and dragged him into the room entirely as he struggled to back away from the bed and its occupant.
“Come’ere boy! Let yer fillyfriend ‘ave a good look atcha!” She cackled, holding the made-up stallion up like a rag-doll for Svelte. The spy sighed unhappily and shifted down to the end of the bed, reaching up to tug the ribbons holding his pigtails up loose.
“Miss... I’m sorry. I dun messed up.” He whimpered as she freed his mane.
“You did exactly as you were meant to, Mister Hay Maker.” I said, grabbing him by the tail and dragging him down. After Glow took that as her cue to release him, and he drooped like a maroon party balloon that’s had all the air let out of it. “Miss Svelte was just filling us in on precisely what that was, mind you.”
Holding his face in her hooves, Svelte patted him on the cheek. “I...wish to apologize for your current condition, Hay Maker,” she murmured. “You were a necessary sacrifice and my equation balanced on being able to claim catastrophic losses and an adequately high risk of my own revelation. I knew these prostitutes would not harm much more than your dignity.”
“W-what do you mean, Miss?” Hay Maker looked up at her with the kind of adoration that you usually see in a particularly well loved pet. It was downright disturbing to see in a pony.
“Ahhh...I get it.” Taxi unfolded from her funny sitting position. “This isn’t your usual kind of work, is it? An escort service? No, you’re industrial espionage, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Svelte confirmed, ruffling her bodyguard’s blonde mane. “This was... not my choice of career mind you. I would much prefer to be securing the wealth of the great and the good. Instead...I find myself serving cocktails and hiding in broom closets. Do you mind if I ask how it was that you managed my capture?”
“The club sound system.” I answered, jostling the destroyed listening device with my toe. It let out a weak crackle of energy then died again. “The DJ routed it’s full power through your private frequency with Mister Hay Maker’s little tooth.”
Svelte’s only show of surprise was a slight widening around the eyes. “Then I shall count myself lucky I am only recovering with a slight headache.”
“I think it’s time you told us who you’re working for.” Taxi said, scootching her chair closer to the bed.
“Yes, I suppose it is.” She held her hoof to her chest, clearing her throat. “You surmised correctly. King Cosmo is my employer, though... I am uncertain if he is the one ‘pulling the strings’ as it were. I was assigned to acquire serviceable surveillance information with an emphasis on embarrassing both patrons and staff.”
“So why stick around so long?” I asked. “Surely you had enough decent information before now.”
Svelte pulled at her mane, trying to get it straightened out. “You’re right, of course. I would have exfiltrated some time ago if Mr. Cosmo had not altered my orders. I sent him some... samples... of my work, and two days later he wanted everything he could get on one particular pony that happened to be in those images. He demanded I gather all the information about her I could. I was only able to access the personnel files the day before yesterday. They are... somewhat more secure than your average bank.”
After Glow polished her hooftip on her chest smugly, then blew on it. “Can’t have little wenches like you gettin’ in all willy nilly and pawin’ through ponies private documents.” Her expression darkened like a stormcloud. “A’fore you go though ah wanna see ezactly how ye got into mah safe!”
The spy nodded her assent, quietly petting Hay Maker who was trying to unwind some of the flashier bits of flair from his rear end. “If it will help guarantee my safety, I see no disadvantage. I have no love of Mr. Cosmo. My service to him has not been... pleasant.”
“What’s he got on you?” I inquired, picking up a stray ribbon and twiddling it between my forehooves.. “You don’t sound like the kind of pony who has trouble vanishing. He’s got to have something.”
“Unwittingly, you’ve reached the crux of the matter. He can find me.” She replied with sad resignation. “I do not know how he has managed it. Each time I have attempted decampment his cronies have discovered my location within a matter of days. Each design towards my own escape he unravels with unerring capacity. I have warded against every kind of scrying magic I could find information on and still he discovers my location and intentions. It is most... frustrating.”
Swift set her pen aside, working her jaw which must have been getting sore. She flapped her wings a couple times, stretching them out wide until they almost touched the opposite walls then drawing them back in tight against her sides. “Um... can I ask something?”
I waved her forward. “It’s an interrogation, kid. That’s how this works.”
“Oh, right. Well, I just wanted to know how you got involved with Mister Cosmo if you don’t like working for him.”
Svelte blew out a breath through pursed lips. “I was sincerely hoping nopony would ask me that. I guess it is not a significant secret. I designed the security system for his personal complex. Thereafter, I found myself in some rather dire financial straits and indebted to one of his lieutenants.”
“Dire financial straits?” Swift asked. Something in the innocent way she posed her questions made ponies want to answer, whether they meant to or not. It was a new technique to me but with our spy, it seemed to be working.
Svelte held up her right front leg, pulling back the fur on her fetlock to show off a lovely collection of old needle scars. “We all have our little vices that help us get through the day. Mine just got the better of me, for a time.”
My partner’s teethed her lip then picked up her pen, going back to her careful documentation to mask some inner discomfort.
“So lay it out for me.” I said, fiddling with my hat brim. “What did you hope to gain from having your bodyguard caught?”
“C-caught?! Miss?!” Hay Maker pulled away slightly from the white unicorn, giving her a look of deep hurt more suited to a kicked puppy than a stallion of his girth.
“That was... necessary.” Svelte lay back, looking at her bodyguard with... regret? Certainly the closest thing to a genuine emotion I’d seen her display.
“Go on then.” I prompted. “Tell us about ‘necessary.’”
Rising from the bed, Svelte padded over to the countertop where her shattered equipment lay. She sifted through the remains, twanging a broken spring. “I became...aware... of the reasons for King Cosmo’s interest in the mare known as Ruby Blue, alias Charity Soul and Azure Rose. I am glad to finally have her name, by the way, Mister Hay Maker. Thank you for sending me that before they found your tooth. You have been most useful, yet again.”
Against all reason, Hay Maker’s lips rose in a tiny smile at the faint praise.
Svelte continued, “Miss Blue acquired an item which Cosmo, or somepony he answers to, desires. I am unaware of what precisely this item is, but I believed I might leverage it against the remainder of my debt if I could obtain it. Alternatively, were my compatriot to be apprehended, I could declare I had lost an important asset in the pursuit of Mr.Cosmo’s goals and demand my debt be cleared on those principles. Based on my calculations, I decided this was the best method of achieving my objectives on short notice. I sent the transmission and let nature take its course.”
There it was then. I have to say, there are few things in this world that make me quite so nervy as a perfectly logical assessment of a totally illogical situation. Miss Svelte’s thinking was built on a series of assumptions fed into some internal mathematical understanding of the universe which spat out this altogether cruel answer to her problem. It made my cutie-mark positively buzz to think what she might be capable of, given the right situation and an easy way out.
Again, I felt pity for Hay Maker; he’d grown a genuine love of the... creature on the bed with the mind of steel and the heart of granite. Whether or not she could still be called a pony might be subject to open debate, so refined was her paranoia and her soulless arithmetic.
After Glow summed up my thoughts rather succinctly when she grumbled, “Honey...yer one ice cold piece of work.” She waved her horntip at the boxer who knelt beside the bed, worshipfully gazing at his employer.
“It is not for you to judge me, After Glow!” Svelte snapped, her full lips curling into a grimace. “I do what I must to survive. My talent is to understand just how insecure the world is. I recognize the futility of permanent connections with my fellow ponies. It is a lesson you might do well to learn, lest there be no interloping officer to save you next time!” She crawled back onto the gurney, drawing her rear legs to her stomach, rolling to face the wall.
I contemplated my next move. I could have left her there. She’d betrayed her bodyguard. I knew I wasn’t like to find much greater regard if she were handed an opportunity to turn on me. Still, I’ve always believed in giving ponies a chance or at least, making sure they had enough rope to hang themselves with.
“Fine. You want to survive and ditch your debt?” Reaching up I took her hoof and pulled her back over to look at me. “Help us take down Cosmo. We’ve got... well, I think we’ve got at least part of what he was looking for.” I fished through my coat until I found the diary, pulling it out along with its attendant picture, and setting it on the bedside table. Svelte picked it up in both hooves, trying the lock for a second then letting it drop.
“You designed the security system for Cosmo. You see how the world is unsafe.” I said, patting the book. “So, where lies the crack in the armor of the King of Ace?”
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*singing* Some of them want to abuse you/some of them want to be abused...
Back into Detrot and just in time to chase away thought of families and holidays! Let's dive in and see what we see.
OMINOUS!
I can't decide whether that's a sneaky Little Shop Of Horrors reference or just the stock-in-trade kinkiness of the Vivarium.
I shoulda known that every thing that goes into the Vivarium is kinkier and more twisted than the hose to a non-euclidean garden. And this STILL snuck up on me.
... Go on.
Dude. Deep. Like seriously, this is "Believe in me who believes in you" caliber of motivational speech. That scene would win some serious film awards with the right lighting, a little tear of awe in swift's eye, and juuuuust enough background music.
From my vague-ish muscle memory from a short ROTC stint years and years ago, I can't figure out how this works without swift going bipedal or airborne, neither of which seem to quite sync with the mood or Swift's persona. Can you sort of describe this posture? Is it like the Royal Canterlot guards' "Sentry" pose, I.E. stock still?
Missing period.
FINALLY someone else who drinks energy drinks for the taste! Doesn't matter if she doesn't technically exist, I feel vindicated!
Random newline. But this is probably the BEST misuse of poor haymaker to date. There's something innately amusing about a Big-mac-alike with pigtails and really overdone makeup.
I think that's "Routed. "
<philosophy>There's two ideas that are, fundamentally, the basis of paranoia. The first is that even though everything seems random, that there's a hidden plan being implemented flawlessly. The second is that, even if things seem to be running smoothly, It's through the happy accident of 'the hidden plan' failing in just the right way and the slightest nudge could bring the whole cardhouse down.
It's fascinating how Hardy and Svelte are the two sides of the same terrified coin. </philosophy>
Well this one couldn't decide between "I do what is necessary to survive" and "I do what I must to survive" and racked itself on the fenceline. Happens to me all the time.
YAY for the return of Starlight! As always, this chapter makes me laugh (Slapstick is natural law in Equestria!), makes me cry (For the broken homes and hearts and lives of the ponies of Detrot), and makes me think.
It shows a little bit how the devotion to the deadline has caused worry and stress to let slip the proofread process, and I'm sure that finals sure as sugar didn't help. But none of them are in that territory of actually hindering the story.
SVELTE has joined the party! Sleep with one eye open, or better yet, don't sleep at all!
1803147 I fear Mr.Kasen was exhausted when he was doing this last set of editing and will need to be flogged with barbed wire. Exams really did a number on him but that is, of course, no excuse. We'll fix it. Give us a day.
Svelte was one of the toughest characters to write. We had to tread a careful line between making her despicable (which she is) and sympathetic enough that Hardy wouldn't shoot her on the spot.
-Chessie
Hold on, I think I've figured it out. Hardy is Vimes in disguise, isn't he?
Oh wow
'Detrot' is BACK, bigtime! 
I won't fuss over the minor grammar derps (or tell you where they are)
It's just so good to drop back into this weirdly cozy world of pony noir
1803147
Well, the title is a lyric from the Dentist song in Little Shop Of Horrors.
-Chessie
1803477
Well there's a sure sign it's been way too long since I've actually watched LSoH.
I think last time I did, I was like... 13 or so and I insisted that Audrey II was a Piranha Plant.
1803178
Damn if you didn't hit my other favorite character archetype. The Unfettered (I dareth not linkest to TVTropes!) are utterly cool when in their element, but what makes them terrifying is how they can make anywhere their element.
Aand we’re back to the mane story yay.
I’ll be honest I’ve sort of forgotten where we were.
Fascitis?
o.o
“commonly known as flesh-eating disease or flesh-eating bacteria syndrome, is a rare infection of the deeper layers of skin and subcutaneous tissues, easily spreading across the fascial plane within the subcutaneous tissue.”
Nopenopenopenopenope
Now I’ve noticed with these Scholar notes that they relate in some way to the rest of the story. Perhaps one of the ponies will suffer? O.o
Haha, perhaps this is foreshadowing of a different kind.
Can’t say I blame you Hardy. And with his injuries now I remember, he’d just caught some unicorn using a tiny radio device, and he used a blast of sound to knock her out of it.
Is it me or are there no sympathetic characters to Hardys plight? Poor bastard.
Aha fully caught up now.
Fix eardrums? I didn’t know you could do that?
Also Ley lines…interesting
Well after a little digging I found out some bits of trivia about historical locations in Britain. O.o
Britain confirmed for canon :D
Door domination…wat.
Wat
Wat
Wat
Well after much fuss Hardy can finally start to interrogate the spy yay.
“
Oh lawd, algorithms. This one is special.
Get your fresh bottle of whisky made from the finest unicorn arcane reserve!
”
Aand the chapter ends on a very important piece of info, one I’m sure Hardy picked up from Sveltes knowledge of his security system.
Probably just as well she wasn’t killed by the sonic blast.
A nice return, others are mentioning grammar derps but i didn't notice if there were any. *shrug*
Oh and Swift is now reunited with Hardy and taxi which is nice.
Happy to be back.
And now my life is complete again
Heh. A recreational role-playing hospital, eh?
snerks Love the dig at dentistry. That being said, though, "pony's" should be "ponies' ", assuming he expects that dentistry includes working on more than one pony ;)
Hah, I like how Hardy's preconceptions as to what's normal/possible are morphing as time goes on.
applauds That was a heckuva speech. Bravo, bravo.
Well put.
...ouch? Also, points for the use of "artsy-craftsy".
Heh. Chicken.exe has stopped responding...
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Random grammar notes:
You have an orphan single quote at the end of this paragraph for some reason.
"Dad" should be capitalized here, since it's being used as a proper name: "my dad" vs just "Dad".
You have an extra opening quote on this dialogue.
"Overlayed now then" doesn't quite parse. "Overlayed now and then", perhaps?
"It's" should be "its", since expanding it to "it is" doesn't make sense.
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:
I now have that song stuck in my head. "YOU'LL BE A SUCCESS!" If you merge Slip Stich and Pickle, he'd be a perfect fit to the song.
“I *am* an actual doctor. Now then... get ready. I’m going to enjoy this a lot more than you are.” Teheheheh.
I think I like Svelte. It's the professionalism, I guess.
I think I found this line far funnier than I should have.
That reminds me of the "lovely" Apaches PIF...
"This will only hurt a little. What comes next, more so!"
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Mmmmm... doors...
I lightly caress the door handle, brushing the underside with teasing, feathery fingertips. I grasp the smooth, protruding knob and slowly turn it. First one way and then the other. Never very far, never all the way. I do not want to open the door all at once; far better to draw out the process, riding the edge between "open" and "closed" until the tension became unbearable. After a few more teasing half-turns, I rotate the handle all the way and pull the door towards me. It stops with a solid *THUNK*, held fast by the solid deadbolt embedded in the tight strike plate.
"Oh ho! Feisty!"
I brush my hand along the decorative muntin. "Oh you dirty slapper! Playing hard to open? We will see about that!"
I lick my lips in giddy anticipation. Locked doors always got me hot and bothered. The more they resisted, the more satisfying opening them became. I pull a key out of my pocket and run my tongue along its hard, gleaming length, tracing out the individual bumps and lightly flicking against the tip.
"Mummy's got just the key for you," I whisper as I slowly trace the tip of the key around the keyhole before stopping just inside the opening. "I will have you unlocked and opened to me in ten seconds flat!"
I pause for a moment to let the tension build to a climax before roughly yanking the door-knocker with my other hand while pushing the key completely into the lock.
"THAT'S RIGHT! TAKE IT! TAKE IT UP THE TUMBLERS ALL THE WAY YOU DIRTY DOOR!"
I give the key one final rough push to ensure it is set firmly before turning it, slowly applying more pressure, prolonging the action to agonising slowness, delaying the moment of release as long as possible. After a breathless eternity, the lock catches with a satisfying *CLICK* and the door finally yields to my caress, opening silently, smoothly on well oiled hinges. I trace a finger along the exposed latch, lightly caressing the bare escutcheon plates.
"Oh yeah..." I whisper, "Who is an open door now?"
*Ahem* (And that is why I am banned from the hardware store).
Did I just write a self-insert semi-clopfic about a bloody door? OH GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE! I blame Significant Other! It is all his fault!
I am certainly glad Swift got this lesson now from Hardy and not from the tail end of a gunshot wound or Beam-lab explosion. I hope she takes it to heart and stays grounded in reality and not stuck in cloud cuckooland heroic fantasies.
Chapter 11: "Ponies Will Pay You to be InhuMane" - Son, be a dentist!
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My fucking lord... you just managed to make opening a door an 'R' rated moment.
THIS IS AMAZING!
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Just wait until you encounter Patter and Ghouldini...
*shudder*
In what?
Aaand everything else has already been explained here: 1956278
not sure if that was pointed out before but yeah
So Svelte is a white unicorn with red mane??
RED FLAG. RED FLAG
Cuddles. Is. FLUFFY.
Hmm, Changeling?
“I am going to tell you exactly what I am going to do. It is not you who are being intimidating, it is I.”
Oh. Okay, never mind, good Hardy.
-GM, master of cold and calculating.
Fun fact, taurine is an amino acid that our bodies produce enough of. It's often used in energy drinks. It's also a major component of bile! So that's fun. Caffeine and bile tea, anypony?
Anddd... Swift agrees with me!
Hardy is a dick to mugs
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I...did not know the thing about taurine. I just knew they put it in energy drinks.
-Chessie
Good place to do it, really.
Rereading this for the lead up to the finale, quickly remembering why I loved Granny Glow so much.
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I am going to be curious to hear about your thoughts on a complete second read through.
-Chessie
fasciitis has two I's.
Should have a space between Mr. and Cosmo.
I've begun the slow and loving process of reading through this story again. I admit, I was a bit uncertain, because I don't normally re-read, since I tend to remember a lot about the story. I'm pleasantly surprised, though perhaps I shouldn't be, that this one remains as engaging as when I first picked it up and binged the first thirty chapters in a few days. In large part that's because the story has crafted characters whose dynamic, in every instance, remains as strong, as wonderful, and as lifelike as ever. It's perhaps no surprise, then, for me to say that it remains my favorite long pony fic - topping even some of the classics.
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Awwww, I really appreciate that. I'll be interested to see if you pick up on more of the clues that're sprinkled through. If you do, feel free to point them out.
-Chessie
Okay I am LOVING this story so far, just, so much character, and fun while still being serious. One hell of an intriguing crime and mystery that are clear barely even the tip of the iceburg given how massive this story is. Lots of fun little nods to the Mane 6 without really bringing them up. Just all around this story is wonderfully fun to read and hard to put down.
Though it was the speech here about what being a cop meant that really solidified why I'm loving Hardy and the overall tone the story is going for and nailing so well. He's pretty much pony Sam Vimes and Detrot is a more modern Ahnk-Morpork, just with the magic cranked up even higher and all the insanity that comes with it. Hell, Detrot PD seems every bit as dysfunctionally functional and bizarrely effective as the City Watch.
So yeah I am loving this story so much and it is hitting such a perfect balance of whimsical fun, and grittyness that have no rights being so damn good together!
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I can't wait to hear your thoughts on later events. I know it's long, but most people have said it's exciting throughout.
- Chessie
I do love the references to the mane 6 through their descendants. So far, I’ve got Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy. I hope there are more!
Knowing what I know of some of this story's narrative elements later down the line, it occurs to me that this talk about algorithmic predictions wasn't just a one-hour quirk, but also a microcosm of a greater thematic idea that appears later. If that was intentional, it's softly brilliant.
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If you pay attention to the themes spread across the entire story, they are essentially that technology,mathematics, probability, science, philosophy, and evolution are essentially the same thing come at from different angles. Basically, it's an understanding that the *development* of intelligence can be predicted and projected into a distant future where we evolve far beyond what we are. I imagine you've read the final Scholar's Note at the end of the final chapter, so I won't be spoiling anything, but I am a trans-humanist and the belief that intelligent life is developing towards something akin to godhood is part of that. It comes with the implication that we can eventually predict and evaluate the future and past. There are several other references to probability assessment on different scales, but I wanted it introduced early.
- Chessie