//------------------------------// // The Eyes of A Killer // Story: Whodunit // by Pracca //------------------------------// As all of these circumstances unfolded, Ponyville rested peacefully on the other side of Equestria. No news had arrived in such short time, nor would it for a matter of days. So, it was only with the slightest hint of nerves that Spike wandered he and Twilight Sparkle’s home well into the night. As he sat in the main room, looking at all the bookshelves he’d dusted for the third time, it occurred to him that there really wasn’t much to do with his big sister/mother/boss amalgamation of a pony missing. His face was cupped in his hands as his feet idly tapped out a rhythm on to the wooden floor. Wow… what do I even DO when Twilight’s gone? The CMC’s all probably asleep, and the only ponies I really hang out with are Twilight’s friends! “I really need to get a life…” he murmured, glancing up at the clock as it ticked away the hours. His eyes then drifted over towards the front window. Utter darkness outside. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night, and considering this was his primary activity without anypony else around, that was unusual. He’d had this strange feeling in his gut for a few hours now; at first he wondered if it was that weird soufflé-gone-sour that the Apple family shared with him, but that wasn’t it. When Apple food went wrong, it went wrong fast, but he hadn’t yet felt the call of the little dragon’s room. Whatever it was, something was bothering him, and it wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. He needed a way to take his mind off of it. “Wait, what’s that?” Spike hopped up from his seat and wandered over to the table by the door, where a meaty little volume sat unattended. “How in Equestria did I miss this?” Spike asked, wondering if his assistant librarian skills were slipping. He reached up and pulled the tome off of the table, giving it a closer inspection. “The Eyes of a Killer… by Nicodemus Pie. Oh! Must be one of Twilight’s personal copies; probably took this second one out by accident.” Spike continued to examine it as he wandered back to his seat, flipping over the cover to read the summary on the back. It certainly seemed interesting: mystery, intrigue, bloody murder. Maybe it’d be worth a read? It would certainly be better than just sitting around feeling lousy all night, the little dragon reasoned. With that in mind, he jumped back into his seat, reclining as he flipped open to the first page… Chapter 1 You don’t know me; and tell the truth? That’s just the way I like it. I’ve got a lot of names. Shifty Shades; Chestnut; The Dealer; Roadie Mayfly. There’s dozens, an alias for every case. You, though? After what’s happened, I think you can just call me by my real name. It’s Cherry, for the record. Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. That’s a mare’s name, you say. I know that as well as the next colt, but you don’t get to pick the name you’re born with. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why I switched it around so much. But none of that matters anymore. I’m in a mess, and I don’t even know if I can save my own sorry tail this. But why should you care? You don’t even know me. But maybe it would help if you did. I should start from the beginning of this whole mess. I grew up in a nice slice of Manehattan. Simple, everything in life came to me easy; it got boring. The only excitement I ever got was from my friends. Ashberry, Needle Spin, and Wallop. Just four foals with too much money, too much time and not enough moral upbringing. We were thrill-seekers, finding the most daring stunts and taking them to levels nopony else would dare. Did we break a few limbs? Yes. Was it fun? Oh-ho, yes. But as we got older, some weird sense of “maturity” started settling in. We realized that we shouldn’t just sit on our parents’ dough forever. We needed to make our own living; but we sure as sugar weren’t working stiffs by nature. So what could we do? Well, we thought back to our old pranking days, and we found we had one talent. One collective thing we were all really, really good at. We could make ponies disappear. The night this nightmare of mine started was about a month ago. Spring. Ten o’clock at night, and everypony was out raving at the newest joint in Manehattan. Some ritzy joint called “Howdy Hullabaloo’s Howitzer’uvva Nightclub and Restaurant.” Did I say ritzy? That’s what the “fine gentlecolts” of this city call it. But if you couldn’t tell from the name, it’s just about the sleaziest joint you’re ever gonna find. I don’t think I’m even allowed to describe what went on in there. But hay, does that even matter at this point?.. Ah, buck it, who cares anymore. All you need to know was how it happened. … A hip little number in go-go boots with a smile that could blind you, and a horn that shimmered so much you’d think there was glitter on it. Gray coat, and a shooting star cutie mark, all topped off by a platinum mane so full and long it must’ve taken her the whole day up until then just getting it brushed. This was Glam Rock, an up-and-coming pop diva in clubs of this nature; and she was my newest mark. She trotted up to the door, cutting past the long line of angry patrons looking for a ticket in, up to a minotaur in a white suit and a begrudging look that said “You’re lucky I was told to let you through.” It wasn’t needed, though; he said as much to her out loud as she passed. Don’t ask me how, but this little dam had made some enemies. She stepped through the door and into a dimly-lit red corridor. The entry-way, and a perfect little spot for a rendezvous before the big night. She approached a couch, on which a bright-red stallion was lounging, with casually spiked burgundy mane, and the most offensively red suit you’d ever find. Me. She sat down, and nuzzled up against me. Fake-cuddling with drop-dead gorgeous mares, with a need to NOT call the next morning in the hoofing job description? Truly, my career was a taxing one; I don’t know how I managed. “Is everything ready?” she whispered into my ear. Sweet nothings from a distance, but strict business from my position. “Of course, toots.” I crooned back, flashing my best scumbag smile. Can’t lie, that wasn’t part of the act. That was just me. “Boys’re in position. Just head on up to the penthouse, and get your pretty little flank in your spot. I’ll handle the rest.” “Fantastic.” she said, pushing herself up and looking as sultry as possible towards the casual onlooker. “Oh, and what about little Crystal?” I waved her off with a casual hoof. “Relax, toots, relax; I said it’s handled. She’s allll taken care of.” She nodded, and gave me a different sort of smile; a thank you, I guess. The thing about my job that I loved and hated the most, was that I had this way of running into all these ponies better than me. She hadn’t given us a single bit until she was certain her little filly was somewhere safe. What? I said she was a dam. She walked away, but I waited a bit longer. All part of the job. Gotta give her some time to get in place, as well as make sure I’m not creepily tailing her. After I thought about three minutes had passed, I stood up and walked inside. The first floor of the establishment was your usual nightclub material. Everything flashed between purple, blue, and green with the pulsating lights, and the beats shook the whole place so much I expected support beams to fall on me. But none of that was my concern: I needed a bathroom, and stat. Sure enough, in a dinky little corner of the building I found an abandoned colt’s room. Perfect for my needs. I stepped inside, locking the door behind me as I approached the mirror. Time for a little makeover magic. I reached into the pockets of my clothes and pulled out a few various things I’d need. First order of business: a prosthetic horn. I nestled it inside my mane, at which point good old Needle’s spell took effect. A stinging pain a hoofing sight worse than I’d expected prickled my skull as the fake horn “fused” with me. The thing about being an earth pony is, it makes it real easy to shift species for a job to improve your disguise. With that perfectly in place, I took out a pair of bright green contacts; my salmon-colored eyes were a bit of a rarity. So covering those up made me even harder to identify. Then, the final body-altering substance came in a little can of goop. I took a bit out and ran a few streaks through my mane and my tail. Lo and behold, a few minutes later I had black streaks through my burgundy pile of uncombed monstrosity, which soon became a bit more presentable as I ran a comb and brush through it. By the time the styling was done, nopony would have recognized me; even WITH the suit. Then, it was time to create my character. I placed the makeup back in my pockets, leaving out some mascara and eyeliner, along with a little can of spray. I took the eye products and gave myself a neat little black outline. Then, I took some more and carefully dripped in down my cheeks, assisted with a bit of water from the sink. I may have been one effeminate stallion, but at least it was clear I’d been crying my eyes out. MOSTLY clear. To complete the illusion, I took the spray and gave a little spurt of it to each of my eyes. The chemicals reacted underneath the confining nature of the contact lenses, and the whites of my eyes went puffy and red-looking. If I screw jobs up, I don’t get paid; I never took chances on the disguise. The story had to be watertight. And my own little master of illusions, Ashberry, was just the pony to whip these things up when I needed them. I looked myself over carefully, checking for any mistakes I’d missed. I found none, though. I was one hoofing jilted coltfriend. One that just might be angry enough for a little bit of revenge. Placing the last of my effects in my pockets, I put on my best snarl—a darned good snarl, mind you—and I smashed my way out of the bathroom. A few nearby ponies stared, but that was good; I needed attention, I needed everyone to know just how aggravated this perpetrator was. I stomped my way past the dancing club-goers, and went up to the elevator. The bouncer for the club penthouse looked me over; he was a big boy, to be sure; a light blue stallion positively rippling with muscle and in one of those fancy bodyguard suits that made brutes look somewhat presentable. He gave me a once-over, peering down from his shades, and I looked back at him. Then, I winked. “Game time, Wallop.” The “bouncer” gave me a quick wink, muttering something into his radio to let me up. On cue, the elevator opened, and he gestured inside for me. I followed the way he pointed, and walked inside. A comfortable little thing, with some music I didn’t care to recognize wheedling away in the background. I was focused, both in-character and out. I’d only get one chance, and I couldn’t hesitate. This had to be perfect. I heard a ding, and the elevator doors opened. The penthouse was exactly what you’d expect; carpeting everywhere, some of it shag. Some of it on the hoofing walls, even. A fancy, future-tech-looking bar with some expressionless bore serving up the drinks. Some of the best and brightest of Manehattan—that’s not saying a lot—were there, having a drink and sharing the latest bit of gossip they’d stumbled upon. A half-staircase out past all of that hubbub led up to a balcony, and my mark. Glam was standing up against the window, talking with some stiff in a suit and colored the most dull shade of blue you could picture. I think it was her manager, but I never asked. This was it, I told myself. Showtime. I marched past the VIP guests, who were more than happy to direct their attention towards the clearly-heartbroken stallion on a mission. Maybe he’d be the source of their latest gossip? Believe me, he would be; they just had no clue how much so. I began marching up the stairs, and yelled—or rather, whined—out to Glam in my best “angsty teen” voice. “And WHO THE HAY IS THIS?!” I screamed, catching her and her manager’s attention. “Is this my REPLACEMENT, huh?!” “What?!” Glam huffed, looking at me like she’d never seen me before. I had to stop myself from grinning; she was a good actor. “Twinkle, I told you a week ago we were through. And I’m not gonna change my mind because you burst in here like some madpony, screaming at the top of your lungs!” “Oh, I’M mad?” I ask, giggling a bit. Laying on that buildup of crazy. “R-right! I’m the crazy guy, because I am CLEARLY the one who dumped my coltfriend through a letter, when he lived in the SAME BUCKING HOUSE?!” “On top of your whining, you’re telling me you were cheating on me with some colt?” Glam asked, looking downright hostile with her biting wit. I thought I might have needed to look her up after this job; she was fun! “Y-you… you colt-hopping FINK!” I screamed, pouring out actual tears now. “I loved you! I bucking loved you, and THIS is what you do to me?!” “It’s always about you, isn’t it?” Glam asked coldly, giving me a steely glare. “You never thought for a second that this isn’t what I wanted, right? You’re going to have to get it through your thick skull that as long as I live, I will NEVER be with you again. It’s over.” That was the hook. The cue. As far as anypony watching knew, this was when I snapped. My face twitched, and my mouth stuttered a bit before I got my “last words” out. “F-f-f-f…fine. I can’t be with you as long as you’re alive… But I can still do THIS!” The raw emotion in the room had been so charged, nopony had noticed just how close I’d gotten to Glam. It was the perfect distance, really. Just enough room to put all my effort into a final, desperate push, and toss us both from the 50th-story window. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—“ Glam screamed as loudly as her lungs would let her in the frigid night air as it whipped around us. I held myself tightly around her. This would have to be just perfect, or we’d be pancakes. I counted the floors as they passed, as hard as it was. It must have only been a five or six second fall, but it felt like an eternity. There went floor forty… then thirty… then twenty—oh Celestia, I’m actually going to die. But as we reached floor ten, I felt a familiar sensation, like a vacuum was sucking up all the fur from the my body. Then, I heard and felt a “POP”, and realized my eyes were closed tight. The wind had stopped flying past us, so I gingerly opened an eye. Sure enough, we were in a quiet little office on the abandoned side of the club’s re-purposed skyscraper. Beside me were two unicorns. One was black as night, with a red wine hue in her mane and a cheery smile as she moved over to check on myself and my client. Ashberry. The other was an icy blue color, with a pair of thick spectacles over his eyes, and his mane was curiously short and coiffed. Needle Spin, who was currently lecturing me about something. “—have to say, this is probably your WORST idea yet. But naturally, Ash and I pulled it off.” He pointed outside, and as I saw Glam being dragged back to her feet by Ashberry (she apparently had lost consciousness at some point) I decided to follow Needle’s hoof. About ten floors below us, a pair of bodieswere splattered in a manner just a bit too gruesome to describe on the city floor, and were already being surrounded by onlookers. I could tell from a distance that they were most definitely those of Glam and I. Good replicas, at least. “Gotta say, this one was kinda hard!” Ash admitted as she saw me admiring her work. “It was hard enough for Needle to do the body switch without anypony noticing WHILE you were falling at that speed, but I’ve never made a dummy with the idea of it being splattered and showing all the insides!” “But, you made it work?” I asked. “Well sure she did!” came a deep, jovial voice as Wallop stepped into the room, changed out of his bouncer’s uniform and into his preferred gray sweater. “When hasn’t she?” That colt was no simpleton, he knew what was what. Ashberry was the best illusionist this side of Equestria, and if there’s one thing a master illusionist can do, it’s fake a corpse. It’s our job, after all. We make ponies disappear. Like Glam Rock, here. She’d gotten sick of the club life, all the sleazy producers and gig-runners wanting more and more out of her. First it was her talent. Then her body. She didn’t want her little filly growing up in that environment. But what could she do to escape these kinda scuzzballs? Simple. Fake her death. Which is where we came in. Glam was still unconscious, but it was no issue for Wallop to carry her on her back. I dusted myself off, and turned to Needle, my second-in-command. “We got a ride?” I asked. He simple gave that over-confident smile he was infamous for. “Of course, Cherry. Right down this way.” Leading us out of the room, Needle Point took us to a nearby elevator and selected the “Garage” level. As we moved down, I took a deep breath, and collected my thoughts. Step 1: Eliminate the Mark. That was a check. Step 2: Escape with Mark, Undetected? That was going to be the real challenge… Spike yawned, putting the book down as he stood up to go find himself a drink. He was certainly drowsier after reading that chapter… but that awful feeling in his stomach was only getting worse. He considered writing Twilight for a moment, only to stop himself as he reached the fridge. “Nah, I’m overreacting.” he told himself, grabbing a jug of orange juice to glug down. “I’ll just read some more until I can sleep.” The door to the Northeastern Tower was one that seemed design to deter any entrants. Its black wooden frame was carved, and filled with red ink to create an elegant and haunting image of gaunt ponies running a wispy gauntlet around the door frame. They eventually circled inward, creating a quartet of harbingers of some form of doom. Fluttershy shook almost uncontrollably as she examined this scene. She was at the rear of the group, with Carrot Top in front of her and Princess Luna herself being the closest to the door. The Princess looked back at the timid yellow pegasus. “Something bothers you, friend of Twilight?” “T-this… doesn’t seem like a v-very good idea at all…” Fluttershy whimpered. Luna nodded, and tried to put on her bravest face for the sake of the young mare. “Fear not, dear Fluttershy. I assure you, as long as I am here no mere mortal shall dare strike at us.” She tossed the door before her open with a single motion. It offered less resistance than its appearance would have indicated. It opened directly to a staircase, leading upward. “Come, my little ponies.” said Luna, marching up the steps with vigor and purpose. Carrot Top followed, who Fluttershy eyed for a second. She then slowly, defeated, began to follow as Angel stood on her head. The bunny stared daggers at the farmer pony as they began to move up the tower. “The killer isn’t what I’m afraid of…” Fluttershy whispered.