Starlight Over Detrot: A Noir Tale

by Chessie


Chapter 1: Welcome To Detrot

Starlight Over Detrot:

A Noir Tale

By Chessie the Cat and CEO Kasen


Foreword

More than a millennium ago, it is said, one of the alicorn Princesses of Equestria dealt with her sibling jealousy issues in a fairly novel manner: She transformed into an evil mare of darkness and attempted to plunge the world into permanent night.

When this failed, she spent a thousand years locked in the moon for literal crimes against nature. Inexplicably, the very first thing she did when released was attempt precisely the same plan. It ended predictably badly for Nightmare Moon, but for Luna - apparently cured of her destructive anti-luminary obsession and restored to a position of power - it could be called nothing short of a miraculous turn of good fortune.

Most ponies know this tale, or at least what could be categorized as the official version of it. And while yes, it is possible that Luna was just horrendously neurotic and that a neurotic alicorn is simply that dangerous, doubts have stayed the collective hoof of academia from so casually wielding Hockham’s Razor.

There has never been a solidly accepted explanation for why Luna remained in power. Celestia is certainly no fool. Her millennial reign was a time of relative peace and wise rulership. Returning influence over the moon to her sister after the events of a thousand years ago and the prodigal’s eventual return seemed like giving keys to a liquor store to a recovering alcoholic.

But the largest and most troubling doubt is one that has increasingly weighed on pony historians; It is becoming clear that something changed the course of Equestria that day, something that alicorn neurosis alone fails to adequately account. Sixty years have passed since Luna’s return, and those sixty years have seen more change, chaos, development, and turmoil than the thousand years Luna spent in exile.

In the years following the Return of Luna (or as some historians date it, R.L.), monster attacks rose to a degree that baffled cryptozoological statisticians. Even the areas near Canterlot saw more, far more, than their share of ravenous dragons and Ursas of various grades, to say nothing of the powerful entities and changeling Royal Swarms that nearly destroyed Equestria as we know it.

These continued attacks created an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty amongst ponykind, one that Equestria’s vivid colors barely paint over. In this tense and monster-benighted age, equine voices began to seek new meaning and new reasons for being, as though their Cutie Marks were no longer sufficient to define them. Some who failed to find this fresh expression sometimes turned to escapes such as debauchery, violence, and the newly minted trade in illicit magical chemicals. Others turned towards the Princesses as deific figures, spiritually placing their anxieties in royal hooves.

Not everypony gave in to fear, however. Some ponies fought to adapt, and adapt they did. Recent years have been an unprecedented period of innovation and cross-disciplinary engineering. Unicorn magic, earth pony mechanical ingenuity, pegasus weather control and zebra alchemy have increasingly woven together and remade the face of Equestria; they even gave it teeth. Developments like the Skybreaker and the Cloudhammer placed fire and lightning, forces of Nature itself, in the hooves of ponies.

No analysis of change and turmoil, however, would be complete without an analysis of recent events in the city of Detrot.

Detrot was originally conceived as a retreat for the royal family, a trading hub, and an outpost against the monsters who still, now and again, sought to challenge Equestrian defenses. With the discovery of several rich veins of jewels nearby, the town grew over decades from those simple beginnings into an economic mecca to rival Canterlot itself in scope, if not necessarily in class.

Eventually, however, the jewel rush that had bloated Detrot into a vast urban sprawl dried up, leaving it to decay from within. As poverty, dashed hopes, and social pressures degraded orderly society, the city found itself better prepared to deal with the monsters of the wilderness than those in the hearts of its citizens.

- The Scholar


Chapter 1:Welcome To Detrot

The city.

My city.

The soft grass beneath my hooves felt good. A pleasant chorus of birdsong drifted over the rolling hills. The sweet sun beamed down on my face like the smile of the Princess herself. The full moon hung in the sky opposite the cheerfully shining star. It was an odd sight.

Luna must have overslept. Somehow that seemed perfectly plausible.

Facing the comparatively tiny strip of civilization between the vast sandy desert to the west and the wild untamed forest wilderness to the east, I watched the thin clouds lazily dotting the immense blue sky, casting translucent shadows on the towering skyscrapers that loomed over the avenues like peaceful guardians.

The gleaming streets were full of life and ponies rushing to and fro on important business. Smiling faces peeked through shop windows and traded hoof-shakes and hugs with old friends. I felt a strange urge to throw myself on my back and roll around in the meadow like a silly foal, but instead simply lay down and closed my eyes, letting the heat of the day wash away every care.

It was slow at first; A cold chill creeping up my back. I shook myself, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation, but the prickle in my tail wouldn’t leave. I sat up and looked around, trying to find the source of the nervous tension behind my eyes.

Nothing.

Wait! A voice, softer than a whisper seemed to direct my attention.

Far away, almost at the edge of vision, a glowing light came to life on the horizon. It seemed to waver, then solidify, like a reflection in a disturbed pond. It wasn’t a kindly light, but harsh and angry. It glared down on my city with devilish intent. After a few seconds a second gleaming nova appeared at the other end of the sky, then another, and another, until four flashing stars hung in the heavens.

Irrational fear welled up in me and I started towards the city, thinking to warn somepony. Of what, I wasn’t certain. The lights began to edge across the curve of the world. At that moment, I noticed that for some strange reason the Sun and Moon seemed closer to one another; I hadn’t marked their motion but each time my gaze left then returned they were definitely closing the gap.

Each hoof-fall seemed to cover less ground than the last. Soon, I was running, then galloping towards the streets in a desperate bid to reach them before those lights could meet.

At last, they met one another, and a furious burst lit everything, so bright I was blinded and stumbled to my knees, lying there in the dirt. I tried to rise again, but found myself only able to watch.

The sky darkened. I raised my face, trying to find Celestia’s radiance but the moon seemed trapped, being swallowed by the sun. I struggled, but fear paralyzed my limbs. My heart fluttered like a trapped bird, feeling the predator circling for the kill. The moon’s edges turned a hellish red and starless night descended so quickly that I thought for a moment I’d been blinded again.

The demonic glow seemed to fall upon the city like a gargantuan hammer, and the whole urban landscape shattered like a dropped mirror, huge fissures splitting open the roads and rending loose the buildings from their foundations. Out of the plagued light of the stricken moon, a colossal monster with hooves of fire and eyes shooting lightning stepped down, its tread crushing mountains as it opened its mouth, slobbering gums full of the hacked off buildings that had become its teeth. It flew towards me, vile lips pulled back in a cruel grin as it shrieked:

RiIiIiIiIiIiIiInnng...


RiIiIiIiIiIiIiInnng...

I buried my face harder into the throw pillow on the end of the couch, trying to will the ringing to stop. My head felt around three sizes too small and a little puddle of cold drool had formed around my cheek. Somber, overcast light spilled in through the shaded window. Celestia, please just let me sleep again. This time without the awful dreams.

RiIiIiIiIiIiIiInnng!

Cracking one crusty eye allowed me to glare at the black phone box sitting on the end table. The call button flashed on and off like a malevolent blinking eye, demanding I get up. I slammed my hoof against it, making a spirited attempt to kill the wretched thing. That was my first mistake that day, as this had the unintended side effect of picking up the line.

“Detective Hard Boiled?” The voice from the speaker was high, feminine, and far too shrill for this time of the morning. After a second, she tried again, albeit more softly: “Hardy?”

“Ugh... lemme check... No, Telly. Nopony here by that name. Please call someone else.”

There was a gruff sigh, then a burst of brain-cleaving feedback so loud that I pitched off the sofa into the piles of newspaper littering the floor.

“You awake now?” resumed the voice, with only a hint of smugness.

I scraped myself off the floor and sat back on my rump, rubbing my eyes. “Yes, and thanks for that, you vile harridan.”

Telly ignored my complaining and gave her microphone a gentle flick. I covered my ears, doing my best not to whimper as my growing headache reminded me of how many hard ciders had preceded sleep.

“You're an hour late. You’ve got about forty-five minutes before the chief said she’s going to call Broadside over at PACT to send a team to retrieve your Cutie Mark. She made no mention of the rest of you.”

I pushed myself up to all fours with some effort, then replied in a sickly sweet voice. “Good morning Hardy! How are you? Isn’t it lovely to be woken up by the telephone and a snarky operator pony who thinks she’s a comedian?”

“Careful, or I’ll start singing. Either way, get your ass down here. The chief is reaching for her pills for the fourth time this morning.”

A warning tingle shot from my hungover brain down to the tip of my tail.

“The blue round ones or the purple star ones?”

“Purple stars.”

“Crap... Arright, arright...”
        
Telly snickered to herself and closed the line.

The bathroom seemed about a million miles away, but my bladder was insisting I make the journey. Staggering towards to the door, I put one hoof on the frame to stop the swimming ground from reaching up and swatting me in the forehead.

The mirror over the sink presented a terrifying image of a wild mane; black mixed with too much grey for somepony my age, and a dusty grey pelt that should have been sold to a taxidermist ages ago. I momentarily entertained the notion that an intruder had broken in. If so, he should be beaten soundly for going to a robbery in such a state.
        
My flanks looked like they hadn't been brushed in days, and they hadn’t. But although the rest of my body was a genuine wreck, my Cutie Mark still shone brightly: a pair of golden scales balanced in the middle.

Can anypony look at their own Mark without drawing a bit of cheer from it? If so, I was coming close, but I wasn’t quite there yet. I felt a hint of a smile at the corners of my lips.

Ponies are defined by those little magical pictures. It’s one of the first things you learn in school. ‘You will find out who you are and that will be a fantastic day! Everypony has one special talent, one thing about them that is uniquely theirs, which can’t ever be taken from them. Just imagine all the things you can be!’

If only happiness came with that self-knowledge. Zebras have their glyphs, and the buffalo might pierce and tattoo and staple every inch of their bodies with their achievements. But ponies have the truth of who they are, right there on their hind-ends. 

Read my ass. I’m a cop.

Clopping over to the toilet, I grabbed a fur brush in my teeth, fitting it into the extending arm over the sink. Pulling it down to where I could brush my ebony mane out of my eyes, I cocked a leg over the toilet and relieved the painful pressure on my bladder.

If I were a unicorn, I’d just wave my horn and a little magic later I’d look like a magazine cover. If I were a pegasus, I could snag a cloud, give it a kick, and bathe in the rain.

I’m an earth pony. No levitation. No wings. Just hooves.

Not that I’ve ever been particularly ungrateful for the head-crushing, rib-breaking strength that goes with being an earth pony, but the daily grooming rituals take a lot longer when you’re stuck doing them manually.

I ran some water in the rust stained sink and dunked my entire face and mane into it, slinging droplets into the shower stall. A bath would have to wait. I snagged the rope and pulled the flush on the toilet then stumbled back to the living room feeling irrationally better about the state of the world.

Snatching the shoulder holster for my gun off the battered old dresser was the first step in the complicated acrobatic routine of wrestling it onto my back legs, then around my torso. I took an extra minute with the barding straps on the trigger bit, taking it in my mouth and making sure it worked.

Dear Celestia's sweet tail, you'd think we could have come up with a better way of putting on a holster by now, but for those of us without horns, thumbs, or prehensile tails, the method still involves a lot of rolling around on the floor.

I pulled a tie from the dresser and cinched it around my throat, giving it a good tug. Yes, you could ask why the nod to professionalism, given that the chief might suspend me today. Assuming, of course, that she doesn’t string me up from a lamp-post as a warning to other would be truants. Regardless, there are certain bare minimums I like to think I maintain. You’d never catch me in the office without a tie, for example, even if that’s only because I find it useful to know whose eyes happen to stray to it as they fantasize about choking the life out of me. Jamming aside the stacks and stacks of goofy ties, I reverently pulled out my most precious possession.

There she lay, nestled in her red velvet case- my father’s revolver. She would have been an ugly, boxy lump of metal were it not for the the polished ivory of the auto-loader and the chased silver which seemed to grasp at what little light dared creep into the mire and muck of my apartment.

She was engraved along the barrel, “To Hard Boiled, with love.” That's Hard Boiled Senior, by the way; He’d tried to give me wisdom, patience, and a sense of responsibility along with his name. In the end, I think I was most grateful to him for that gun.

There is no beauty in this world to trump a perfect firearm. Her breach was worn smooth by years of use, but as I cracked it and flicked the crystalline hammer, she sparked obligingly - like an old clock which still knows just what time it is. The auto-loader whispered as I fit a spare cartridge into it. I then hooked the leather cuff around my front knee and tilted the weapon to the top of my leg, lifting it up to look down the sights.

I'd never needed to adjust them, but some habits aren't worth breaking. Finally, I sat down and attached the reloading strap to my back thigh, giving it a perfunctory kick. With a soft clatter of turning gears, the breach split and tossed the cartridge to one side. I fit the fresh one in, plucked up the trigger bit and tugged on it, shutting the breach again with a satisfying click of readiness.

At some point, my father had her converted to fire standard .45 bullets rather than... whatever she was built for. Magic ammunition was notorious for its lack of standardization. Switching it to brass and lead must have cost him two left legs, but it was worth it.

The department policy these days frowned on the use of weapons that incorporate even a modicum of magic. I’d heard all the arguments for replacing it with a newer gun: ‘Oh, they’re so dangerous,’ ‘Boohoo, the bullets go through buildings,’ ‘Waaah, it misfired and turned me inside out!’
        
I’d rather have replaced an eye.

Alright, Hardy... last essentials. I grasped the collar of my my battered trench-coat off of its traditional place on the chair beside the front door, and swung it over my shoulders. The old duster settled over my hips and suddenly, like magic, I was an officer of the law again. Protector. Savior of the weak. Damned idiot with a badge.

I snatched my hat and keys, flipping the ancient and misshapen fedora onto my head and tucking the keys in a pocket. I wiggled my ears until they popped through the holes, and then, at last, felt alive enough to risk going out without a fellow cop dragging me in for vagrancy.

****

I've lived in the great city of Detrot all my life. Ambitions of traveling the world gave way to the cold-shower realization there weren't a lot of places out there more suited to a cop than a city full of crime.

Some poet waxed lyrical once about the city devouring the weak and uplifting the strong. Certainly I'd seen my share of undeserving souls lose themselves in the dark alleys of this equine metropolis.

I often found myself fighting the urge to run from my city; to run away into the hills and howl at the moon like the timberwolves you can still hear in the distance on some cold, clear nights, when the weather factories have powered down for maintenance. One of the things that prevented such a feral exodus was the fact that my particular neighborhood wasn’t too bad. At least, I liked to think so; it was one of those little fantasies that helped keep me sane.

        Also Ran Road was giving way to gentrification when the jewel boom hit the city. Working class families flooded the street, and the demand for low-income housing went through the roof. After the boom ended and the market for rubies fell out - followed quickly by sapphires and just about every other magical jewel you could name - the banks sold the properties to whoever still had money. Ten story buildings going for bits on the penny to whoever would buy them meant that neighborhoods had to band together to keep the criminals out. Some were more successful than others.

Foals could still play on my street. You could still eat at the corner restaurants without having to pick lead out of your hay. The old buildings didn't precisely sag so much as they slumped against one another, like old friends out for a night on the town who've had one too many.

Closing the front door I shrugged my shoulders up, trying to pull my collar against the pervasive drizzle. My mane, instantly wet, clung to my neck. I pulled my tail down between my legs, trying to keep it from getting drenched. The thick clouds rumbled ominously.

Ahhh, home sweet home.

****

There was already a cab waiting at the curb, her driver sitting on the hood in what looked like an incredibly uncomfortable position: both legs drawn up under her and crossed, one over the other. I don’t think I could have gotten into that position if my legs had been made of rubber and jammed into a taffy machine.

She’d have been pretty if she weren’t so aggressively plain. Her pelt was very close to the off-yellow of a lemon left in the sun too long. She wore no makeup and no clothes, save for a pair of beaten, checkered saddlebags high on her haunches that covered her cutie marks. Her black and white striped mane was braided in a single, whip-like tail that spilled down over one shoulder, hanging almost to her knees. Soaking wet from head to horseshoes, she smiled up at the clouds as they did their best to drown her peaceful expression in their depressing downpour.

A few bumper stickers with slogans like ‘Keep Equestria Green’ and ‘Love Thy Neighbor, Even If You Want to Set Fire To Him’ festooned the rear bumper of the old but well-maintained taxi, which was painted roughly the same color at its driver.

I clumped down the stairs of my apartment complex, making enough noise to jar her from her meditations. Her pink eyes opened and she stretched languidly, sliding off the hood. She radiated relaxation and comfort in such a smug contrast to her dreary surroundings that I found myself wanting to bite her.

“Morning, Taxi. I take it the chief’s been ringing?”

“She was screaming at me to come wake you up or shoot you or something. I turned off the radio right around the time the death threats started. I know you don’t sleep very well these days.” Even her voice was calm and pleasant.

Pulling open the back seat I crawled in, drawing my legs up under me as I settled into the heavily worn velour. “Thanks, Sweets.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” She grumbled softly. Shoving herself behind the wheel, she positioned her not-at-all unattractive rear up against the back brace, back hooves on the brake and gas, front legs wrapped around the edges of the wheel. It always struck me as an awkward position, but Taxi was an earth pony like me. We’re good at coming up with ways of doing things the other races do with a little magic and a lot of noise.

“Sorry. No matter how many nicknames you go through, you’re still going to be Sweet Shine to me.”

Sweet Shine and I had been friends since both of us were still blank flanks. When we both joined the force it seemed we’d found our place in the world, though I sometimes wondered if she’d just followed me because nowhere else seemed to fit. Nopony ever really nailed down her Special Talent, but whatever it was, it made her a brilliant investigator. It was a sad day when she left the force, but after what happened to her cutie marks, even I wasn’t thick enough to ask her to stay.

I still don’t know what ever inspired her to volunteer for undercover work in narcotics. Those ponies always struck me as a bit off in the head, while Sweets... Taxi... was basically a kind heart wrapped in an iron shell.

She slid the key into the ignition and lightning arced under the hood as the thrumming, arcaneletric engine roared to life.

“Death is shadowing you tonight, Hardy.”

“Hmmm?”

“You’ve got a case.”

It wasn’t a question.

****

Rain beat a solid tattoo on the cab’s windows as we drove towards the old city center. I lay there on my side in the back seat, cheek against the glass, watching the passing ponies ducking under the eaves of buildings or piling together into bus stops to escape the sheets of falling water. The silence was comfortable, familiar, and doing wonders for my headache.

The cab’s interior resembled some kind of temple to schizophrenic religious exploration. Beaded curtains hung in the back window and there was the deeply ingrained fumes of a thousand kinds of incense smoke covering up the usual taxi scents. Five different symbols of the sun and three or four of the moon hung from various fixtures.

As I pulled my hat down a little I caught Taxi’s pink eyes watching me in the rear view mirror.

“You look... spiritually misaligned,” she said, enigmatically, then jerked her gaze back to the road as our front bumper nearly took out a passing pony-drawn carriage.

“That’s new? I thought that’d been the case for a few years now. Or is this the part where you ask me why I’m later than usual draggin’ my tail out of the apartment?”

She sniffed petulantly, sweeping her beaded mane from one side to the other. “You don’t want to talk about it, then it’s no skin off my nose.”

The silence descended again for just a moment then, just as I was ready to wrap that silence around myself like a blanket, her ears perked and she rent the quiet asunder with a voice full of far too much early morning cheer. “Okay, I lied. What’s in your head? Come on, Hardy... Tellmetellmetellme!”

Taxi had the sort of curiosity they generally describe as being lethal to cats. It made her a great cop and interrogator, but sometimes an annoying chauffeur. This time, there was nothing for it; I could tell she’d gleefully keep after me all the way to the police station.

“...I had that dream again.”

Taxi rubbed her chin with one unshod hoof. She’s one of the few ponies I’d ever met who refused to wear shoes on any account. “Is that the one where the stripper comes out of the cupcake and it’s your mother?”

I sat upright sharply. “What? No!”

Her eyes glittered with mischief. “Oh! Was it the one where you’re wearing a pretty pink dress to meet Celestia at court?”

I covered my face with my hooves and pulled my coat up to my cheeks, slumping back in the seat. “Yes, yes of course... that was the one. Thanks for the talk.”

She wasn’t to be put off. “Dammit, Hardy, you’re a mopey prick in the morning. Now tell me! What did you dream about?”

My mind flashed back to the demonic beast almost crushing my head in its jaws. I shivered involuntarily. “Sparks of light. Red evil eclipse. Big monster pony with buildings for teeth. Pissing awful.”

I looked back out the window for a few seconds, gathering my thoughts. Her eyes widened just a little, then she waved a hoof knowingly. “Ahhh, yes, I see, I see...”

We were just passing one of the massive black obelisks comprising The Shield. Similar structures sat throughout the city, squatting between buildings or shoved into any convenient nook. This one looked like a huge pyramid, a little taller than it was wide, and each of its four sides was covered in glowing arcane glyphs. While it was dwarfed by the skyscrapers, it still presented an imposing figure jutting toward the permanent overcast of Detrot’s clouded skies.

The Shield was the most important part of our city’s three sided defense against the impinging wildernesses stretched out to the east. Most ponies, myself included, hadn’t the slightest idea how it worked.

I thought back to my first school field trip. It’d been to see one of those massive buildings inside. Anticipation had quickly given way to boredom as they dragged us from one exhibit on the history of the city to another, telling us about how the mighty Shield Organization keeps us safe day in and day out from the monsters out there.

The Shield Protects. The Shield Defends. The Shield Is Your Friend.

Somewhere up there a unicorn sat - probably bored and underpaid - focusing his horn into some sort of spell matrix. I admit, I envied him the predictability of his job.

“What do you see, Taxi?” I asked, feeling the weight of the hours ahead dragging me down into a particularly dark depression. Not really an uncommon reaction when facing what would most likely be a dressing down by the Chief of Detrot PD.

She peeked over her shoulder. “Sorry, I’m moonlighting as a dream interpreter this week. Part of the job is saying ‘I see, I see’ a lot. Just ignore it. So tell me about this nightmare... or was it a stallion?”

“I wasn’t exactly looking between its rear legs.” I replied. My nose wrinkled as we passed an open sewer. The smells and sights of the city were slowly bringing a semblance of awakeness to my abused brain.

Taxi canted one ear in my direction, using her ‘mother-hen’ voice. “I keep telling you and I’m going to keep saying it until you listen. You need a vacation. Preferably before the chief forces a medical leave by throwing another chair at your head.”

“We took that vacation in Prance two years ago, remember? You want a repeat?”

“Oh come on... The vacation wasn’t that bad...”

I tapped the back of her seat firmly. “I spent the weekend in a holding cell! Some checker headed pony who shall go unnamed slipped me a mickey in the hotel bar and I ended up with my rental car parked in the town fountain, pissing off the top of it onto a statue of Princess Celestia.”

Taxi swung the cab into a flow of wagons, carts, and other slower moving vehicles. For all of her earth-child garbage, she still drove like a cop.

“Hardy, do you honestly think you’re going to improve your spiritual state by staying in the city? Any city? The city is half the problem! Take a trip! I can introduce you to the current Chief Thunderhooves. Spend a weekend with the buffalo. It’ll do you wonders.”
        
I shook my head, neighing irritably. “Running through the plains wearing nothing but paint and a determined expression doesn't strike me as a spiritual experience.”

Taxi very nearly clipped the back wheel of a particularly slow-moving carriage; The top-hatted passenger inside waved an angry hoof at us as the two burly stallions pulling it gave a sharp yank to pull the wheel out of danger. “I was referring to... trying a sweat lodge, or eating some cactus. You could stand to be more in touch with the celestial energies.”

I looked out the window, trying to find a glimmer of sun through the roiling storm outside. No such luck.

I drew a deep breath. “Look... it’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m going to see the chief and she may as well be using her medications for donut sprinkles. No amount of being ‘in touch with the cosmic flow’ is going to keep her from ripping my throat out. So can the moon-calf crap for a half hour, alright?”

Taxi glared in the rear view mirror then reached down and turned up the radio. I lowered my head to the seat, slowly sinking into a doze while the announcer’s voice filled the car.

“Good Morning, Detrot, from WPNN. This is Sunflower Press bringing you everything you need to know! Welcome back to our show at the top of the hour as we give you noteworthy events, and the fairest, most balanced broadcast on the air!

“Today CEO and Chairman of Starlight Industries, Mr. Diamante Voluntas, was at the unveiling of the new uptown corporate park Starlight Towers. The crystalline skyscraper, which has been under construction for nearly forty years, was finished last week. Our correspondent was on site at the grand dedication ceremony this morning. This is Mr. Diamante.”

A crowd milled somewhere near the mic, murmuring and shifting, before a powerful male voice brought instant silence. “Fillies and gentlecolts. Thank you for coming. Two hundred and fifty years ago when this town was little more than a trading post on the way between Equestria and the great Zebra and Buffalo nations, my family saw this city for what it could be. We petitioned the Princess to help us finance and construct the first Shield. It's grown somewhat since then.” Polite laughter.

We worked with strong backs and hard hooves in the first jewel mines. We have never stopped believing in what Detrot is capable of being, and even in our darkest hour we have thrown ourselves into making this city great. Today, I want to show you the next step in that vision of a fantastic future for ourselves and our foals. Starlight Towers is to be a center of commerce for everypony and will lead us to our great reward, for the glory of Detrot and the whole of our nation. Come with me while I show you my dream for our future... A world full of diamonds.”

There was riotous stomping and cheering followed by the sound of a pair of gigantic scissors slicing through a ribbon, then Sunflower Press's slightly grating voice again.

“The Starlight Towers will be open to the public this coming month. In other news, Griffins representing the Tokan and Hitlan tribes of the Endless Desert have both accepted Mayor Snifter’s gracious offer of sanctuary for their young in the city. Both tribes are experiencing difficulties with the local ecology on their home mesas, though their own version of the PACT is apparently handling the situation and hasn’t asked for help.

“Griffins from both tribes are shacked up at the Moonwalk Hotel in uptown while the issues at home are resolved. If you see one out and about, be sure to give them a hearty Detrot welcome and hope they fix things soon so they can get back to... uh... whatever it is they do out there. Rain dancing.

“Meanwhile, the Church of the Lunar Passage has again protested the coming display of significant Pre-classical Artifacts at the Celestial Museum of History on the 60th Anniversary of the return of Princess Luna to our world.

“The traveling display has passed through Hoofington, Trottingham, and Canterlot, and now makes its way to our fair city. Amongst these artifacts are several pieces of important literature and art, and even the reconstituted armor of Nightmare Moon herself, which will be showing for two weeks. Celestia herself penned the placard which will be shown alongside the piece. The Princess had this to say.”

A familiar, motherly voice spoke. I felt the tension in my shoulders release a little with each word.

“When I lost Princess Luna I lost a part of myself and our country... nay, our world... was poorer for her absence. Sixty years ago, she was returned to us. I want everypony to know the cost of jealousy and anger, and never forget what it cost me. Her lesson is learned as is my own. I am a humbler pony for it. Please, when you see this object, look at it not as a banner of victory, but as the physical embodiment of a thousand years spent apart because we could not make peace.”

Sunflower began again, shuffling papers a little too close to the microphone.

That was the Princess speaking to our Canterlot correspondent. Sounds awfully full of remorse for having been the one who sent Luna there in the first place, doesn’t she? I just wouldn’t want to be that pony who destroyed the Grand Galloping Gala a few years back with that stampede from the castle gardens. Betcha she dumped them someplace dark and far away too.

“The Church of the Lunar Passage wants the display pulled because of the negative connotations associated with the public exhibition. Miss Astral Skylark from the Church was attending the protest outside the museum today and had this to say.”

The new voice was soft, almost tender, but with a hard edge that made me instantly leery; It was the sort of voice you hear from a Concerned Mother perpetually one step away from being a gigantic pain in the flank. “The return of Luna was nothing short of a miracle. That she came back at all should be celebrated, and the magics which brought her back should be explored.

“We've heard nothing from Canterlot about the events surrounding her return or the ponies responsible for it, even after all these years. That Princess Luna came back to us should be a sign that redemption is open to anypony - even those who've fallen far - if they look to the stars for guidance.

“Celestia would have us believe the vessel of Princess Luna’s return is nothing but a shell. A symbol of her fall into darkness. I say this is obfuscation and lies! The beings or powers that returned our dear Night Princess to us must be addressed. There are obviously greater things in the depths of the beyond than we've been lead to believe. To label it nothing but a display of the fruits of jealousy is to debase the majesty of this event and defraud us of this miraculous return-”

I’d never considered myself a religious sort, but it only took about six sentences from that beastly mare before my headache was back in full force.
        
“Could you shut that awful crap off? I don’t need to hear from the Loonies this morning.” I growled under my breath.

Taxi reached down and turned the volume on the radio down a few notches - which didn’t help immensely, but took the dull throb to a less intolerable level. Looking over her shoulder for a second she shook her head. “Do you have some kind of problem with the Lunar Passage?” She asked, slipping the car into neutral just long enough to make the engine snarl menacingly at a rickshaw which was drifting into our lane.

Dammit, Hardy! Why does your sense of self preservation never kick in before your mouth opens? That was exactly the kind of thing Taxi wouldn’t let pass.

I inhaled sharply and tried to clear my thoughts of the infernal haze which had hung over them since I oozed off the couch. Mornings should be spent in quiet repose with a newspaper and a nice clean toilet to throw up into.

“I...ugh. No. They’re fine. No problems with the Loonies at all.”

She malevolently reached for the volume dial, and I jerked forward. “Okay, okay! Taxi... do you really need me to answer this? Why in Equestria do you never ask me these questions when I’m drunk?”

Tapping her chin, she grinned hugely. “Because for some reason, when you’re drunk, you’re smart enough not to answer them. So lay it out for me. What’s your issue with the Lunar Passage? I can’t wait to hear this.”

I sighed; My head hurt too much to come up with a creative dodge, so I went for the unvarnished truth. “They creep me out, that's what. They creep me out 'cause I remember what they used to be like. They spent all their time shrieking in basements to each other about Celestia banishing Luna and making up Nightmare Moon as some sort of... cosmic power play. Now, a few years and one economic crisis later, I can't step out my door without stumbling over somepony in a starry robe spouting this trash. It’s ridiculous.”        

“So, what, are you saying they shouldn't be allowed to get over their pasts? They've toned down the anti-Celestia rhetoric, and do a lot of really decent work now. They own half the homeless hostels in the city. They’re not hurting anypony.”

“It's not just me. Look, do you remember that Nightmare Night back when we were kids, and what Luna was like when she was here in Detrot? I heard Astral at the Nightmare Night celebration this year in Baltimare; she gave some... speech, kinda like that one, and while she was raving, Luna herself was right there looking as though she half wished she was back on the moon.”

“She’s never said anything about it in public,” Taxi said, “but If you’re right, and the Lunar Passage does make her uncomfortable, then maybe she says nothing because she knows just how important their faith in her is to them. Everypony needs something to get through the day, and if Luna’s rebirth story is that something, what’s wrong with that?”

“...Fine, but did they have to be reborn into ponies that dress like they were sexually assaulted by the night sky?”

Taxi’s expression subtly darkened, but not as much as her words did. “It’s got to be healthier than being reborn at the bottom of a bottle of hard cider every night.”

I winced slightly, but decided to drop the subject before she could go on to dissect my grooming habits. “You asked, Sweets.”
        
“Yes, I did ask, and you didn’t have to answer me by being a jerk.”

“See, this is why I do not discuss religion with you. I’ve got an equal chance of being saddled with Healing Crystal Earrings or a kick in the teeth.”

“You’re an incredible dick sometimes.”

“...Just drive the cab, Sweets.”

She huffed but left the radio off. I slumped against the window and shut my eyes, praying that calm would re-assert itself as I slid into a quiet funk. The day was only beginning and already I’d pissed off my employer and my best friend. Joy of joys. Maybe, with any luck, I could bring down the wrath of Celestia by day’s end.