Halloween Surprise · 12:50am Oct 31st, 2023
Hello to all. As some of you already know, I am also a musician by trade, and I've had my hands in the audio production pot as well. And I know that some of you have followed me for a long time, a number of you popping up since the "It's Complicated" story has come to a close. And tonight's midnight surprise is all about that. So allow me to say for the first time to all of you:
I am SillyAnon. I am also Chordstruck. And this is the release of my first audio project intertwining both my hobby of writing and my work of music.
Now to give you a bit of a prologue, consider it a little mini-story.
It's a wonderful and peaceful Friday afternoon in the city of Canterlot. Ponies of the Cantered Voice, an investigative journalism outlet, have finished most of their shifts for the day. Many who have worked the presses are coming out of the showers, fresh from getting the ink off of their bodies and hooves. Photographers stretch their limbs after a long day of sitting and sorting, some wiping their eyes after coming in from the darkness of the photo development room, at last walking into the sunset-laden room. Writers walk out in pairs, sometimes in trios as they go home for the day.
The only ones who still remain for a bit are the two ponies sitting in a nearby break room. One of them being yourself, the other being a well known journalist. Dream Star, who's been recently known to cover the saga of Captain Nondis' assignment to Arimaspi Territory, sit across the table from you. He taps his pen against the table, wondering if you've lost most of your sanity.
"You're not going to seriously open an investigation into that place, are you?" He questions.
"Seriously, it's not like it's all that bad." You answer. "I mean, think of all the random things I could discover while I'm there."
"Like a dead body, namely yours?" Dream Star asks with a sarcastic tone. "That's all you're going to run into."
"And how would you know? You said it yourself, you've never been there!" You argue. "And with the way things are stirring up recently, you mean to tell me you wouldn't want to go see why ponies have been going out there on Friday nights? Last week there was a bunch of them turning up, now you're telling me you're not even remotely interested in seeing what the buzz is all about?"
"Look, there are some places you go to write a paper on, then there are some places you go to find your way into a morgue." He tries to explain. "Corrotto is known to be a place where if you don't have no business being there, you just don't exist. And even if you find yourself existing there, it won't be for long."
You give off a hearty chuckle as you take your notepad and pencil from off the table. "So it's like that, huh?"
"Like what?" He asks you.
"You're jealous! You got in a hotbed and got some juice going for yourself. Now you don't want anyone to come after your shine with a scoop that'll blow your shit out of the water!"
He laughs in disbelief. "Like hell, I'm just smart. You don't go looking for scoops in red zones unless you got some guards with you."
"Well I do know a guard who's going to be there." You mutter as you flip the pages of your notepad, seeing a few things that were written down.
Most of it's contents are a bunch of hearsay and rumors, most of it is just a bunch of old people making note of some conversation pieces dealing with politicians caught with their mistresses, things while factual that can still be easily disproven. But hearing from more than one conversation that the captain himself has snuck his way into the area leans heavily towards the plausible accounts. And it's not just for a week, it's been two weeks straight where the local homeless riff-raff have mentioned him. And given the fact that the captain was effectively seen bloodied, leaving the area last Saturday morning at approximately 12:17 a.m., with a zebracorn escort, you know that chance for the huge scoop is real.
He's there, and he's involved. It's your one shot to make a bit of journalism history on your own, involving the same figure. Him being seen in the place known as Canterrot, a place of ill repute, could sink his public image and get you a pretty hefty payday from some affluent donors. It's pretty much worth the risk, considering that some of those donors are life-long financial contributors to the newspaper itself. It could come with a huge promotion, executive perks, a swanky office, and a pretty damn good paycheck. Plus it'll give you more notoriety than Dream Star could ever hope for with that huge retraction on his record.
Your mind's already made up. "Look, I gotta get this scoop. My career is nothing without it."
"Dude, your life won't be worth shit if you think about walking in that place." He warns you.
"Seriously, I know how to keep a low profile." You argue.
"They have a way of sniffing us out." He replies. "You go there, you're meat."
You shake your head, not even willing to entertain the stallion's pleas at this point. "Look, it's just a night out in the Rotty. I got the funds to cover. I'll even go buy some crazy shit just to blend in. It won't be hard."
As you turn your back on the fellow journalist, you feel a chill run down your back.
Hours pass and you finally get to the location. It's a solitary street that leads down a darkened corridor, one only lit by spare torchlight. Not even the unicorns who walk are willing to light their horns for safety. It's almost as though they know something you don't. But you notice a strong sewage smell, so you try to keep your horn lit to see where you're walking.
