//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 
// Story: Who is Number Eleven? 
// by DrugOverlord 
//------------------------------//

“And here you see our sewing room, for the quick and dirty work. Buttons, restitching, hemming. I usually let the staffers take care of all that for me. Too manual, too repetitive. There’s no artistry in it. Moving along, we have… Sunset? Sun? Are you even listening to me?” 
Sunset tore her eyes from the door, upon which she had focused all her dreams of escape from the past fifteen minutes of banter and prattle, and locked on to Rarity’s own impatient gaze. She saw the beginnings of another argument forming there, in the closeness of her brows and the tilt of her weight to one hip. 
Sunset cut it off with a simple, bald-faced lie. “Of course I am, Rares.” 
“Well, fine,” Rarity said, the frustration draining to the vague aftertaste of dissatisfaction. “Shall we continue?”
Sunset gave a nonchalant wave. “After you.”
Sunset had arrived at the Carousel Boutique at noon exactly, and had barely gotten whiff of the steely cold air inside before Rarity forced her participation in this self-made tour. It began rather pleasurably, as Sunset got a good look at Rarity’s dress, a silky white tight fitting number cut just above the knee, with a high collar and no sleeves. Deep blue leafy scrolls twisted from the hem to the hips, and a brightly shining gemstone twinkled from her throat. Her collarbone made it’s gentle presence known through a narrow band of missing fabric, starting beneath the collar and rounding off just above the breasts. 
The pleasure this gave Sunset wore off quickly, and the tour soon devolved into a test of endurance. Rarity walked her step by step through what made her boutique a shining example of the fashion industry, and Sunset tried not to burn the whole place down by force of sheer irritation. It wasn’t as if Sunset had no interest clothing. She didn’t have a closet lined with the latest designs for nothing, and she took an hour to get dressed this morning. This had nothing to do with Rarity, or seeing her, she told herself. Nothing whatsoever. But the particular details of manufacture and design? Sunset couldn’t care less. 
Rarity was in the middle of a rant about the decline of handmade clothing in the face of robotics when Sunset finally reached the end of her indulgence.
“Rarity.”
“There is simply no comparison, dear, none! Those soulless cookie cutter monstrosities cannot even be considered clothing.”
“Rarity.”
“No love, no variety, no heart! Oh it makes me furious, and that isn’t even the worst-”
“Rarity!”
The rant stopped and Rarity turned towards Sunset in a huff. “What, exactly, are you shouting about?”
Sunset squeezed her eyes shut, wiping a hand across her face for a brief moment. Then she forced herself to smile as diplomatically as possible. “As interesting as this tour is, which it is, I assure you, very interesting, can we cut to the chase? The sooner I get the details of your case, the sooner I can get to work. And the sooner I get to work, the sooner the thing is off your hands. So if you could do us both the favor?”
Rarity made a motion as though brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. Her hair was perfectly in place. “Hmph, well, alright then. On to business I suppose.” Rarity motioned towards a far corner of the Boutique. Her office, Sunset assumed. “You have absolutely no interest in my work. You never did, not even in school.” Rarity lapsed into silence, and Sunset was happy to let it stretch. 
Not even in school. As they walked, Sunset found herself brushing the cobwebs off her old school memories. Once upon a time, Sunset had absolutely despised Rarity. Even after her defeat at the Fall Formal, Sunset held onto a strange mix of haughty pride and childish anger for months. It would almost be laughable to remember her old petulance if it didn’t fill her with so much shame. But bit by bit, the walls came crumbling down, and Sunset grew to genuinely enjoy the time she was spending with the girls, and appreciate the kindness they showed her. 
Once she started down that road, there was no turning back. Sunset had been happy just to get a smile, a kind word. She started to hate herself, hate what she had become, what she had tried to do. And then… Rarity. Beautiful, kind… Sunset fell in love. She loved all the girls in time, of course, but it wasn’t the same. That love built in the heart. This one built in the stomach, lighting the whole body on fire. 
Sunset blinked back to the present as she was ushered into Rarity’s office. Literally, she had to blink tears from her eyes at the unexpected brightness of the room. It took several blinks to even gain a fuzzy outline of the room, then several more to really take in the details. And those details were astounding.
Rarity had chosen, in her infinite wisdom, to transform a good portion of her office into a showroom, with mannequins lining the walls draped in clothing, hats, and notably, thousands of glimmering gemstones. These were reflecting the white light of the bulbs in the ceiling, sending lances of green, white, blue, and red bouncing across the walls and through Sunset’s eyeballs. 
Sunset lifted a hand to protect herself. “Celestia’s mane but it is bright in here. Turn the lights off would you?”
“Nonsense. How could we see if the lights are off?”
“How can we see if the lights are on?!”
The searing light suddenly died down to a cool glow. Sunset dropped her hand slowly, blinking at the room. Rarity smirked across at her from across the room, hand on a smooth white square on the wall. She pointed to the ceiling with her other hand. “Adjustable lights.” 
Sunset scowled. “Lovely.” Now that she could see, the room was coming together in her mind. It was mostly open, with a multitude of chairs littering the space, some plush and inviting, others straight-backed and hard. Purple and blue tapestries hung from the white walls, where they weren’t already holding mannequins, and here and there a variety of modernist paintings were squeezed in. Modern art was one aspect of the culture Sunset couldn’t quite get a grasp on. It baffled her that these things could be considered art at all.  
Sunset quickly homed in on the comfiest looking chair, and let herself drop into it. “So, someone stole from your store. What, when, how, who?”
Rarity settled herself into a couch, crossing her legs and sitting up ridiculously straight. She was close enough for Sunset to smell her softly sweet perfume without trying. “You are very straightforward. Not a social bone in your body.”
“If this had been a social call, maybe I would be socializing. But it isn’t, and you’re making things really difficult for the person who you asked to help you.”
“I-” Rarity paused, and took a deep breath. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry Sunset, really I am. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I don’t know how to act.”
Sunset let her face soften, and felt her annoyance drain. Yeah, that made sense. “It’s fine Rares, really. Just, just start from the beginning, okay?”
And she did.
Apparently, back a year or so ago, Rarity had added a new line of jewelry to go along with her clothing lines.
“I figured, it could only add right? More clients, more profits, more adaptability…”
“More risk.”
Yes, and that too. For the first few months, things went perfectly well. Business was booming. Enough so that Rarity was able to expand the boutique, start reaching out to new clients. She even started up a delivery service for her more “exclusive” clientele.
“You may have seen the vans out front.” Sunset had seen them, actually. White vans, with bright purple and gold lettering: Rarity’s Carousel Boutique Delivery Service. A diamond ring hung off the “C” in “Carousel,” and a glittering blue dress lay in the background. Sunset found them dauntingly garish. “Some people don’t want to have to come to the store to pick things up. So, for a modest sum, they don’t have to anymore. Quite a popular addition.”
But then, things started to go missing. It was little things, at first. The sheets wouldn’t quite balance out, a dollar here, a necklace there, but none of her customers were complaining. It was less than two weeks after her delivery service started up.
“Naturally, I suspected the drivers. They were new to me, the whole delivery system was new to me. I got quite suspicious.”	She made the check-ins more rigorous, had her driver's document exactly what they took and where, how much they sold, and so on. Checks leaving the store and checks coming back. Rarity began to personally call and talk to each client after a sale, ensuring that they got everything they wanted, and paid the correct amount. She never caught anyone stealing, and the books balanced themselves out again. She put the whole thing out of her mind. Up until last week.
“Let me tell you darling, this time it was not subtle. I had an especially large number of orders coming in, all to be delivered within days of each other, some even on the very same day. I piled up the order into the vans, and ship them out. The rest of the order I leave in the shop, ready to be taken out over the next few days. I come in the next morning and…”
“Gone?”
“Gone.” Every necklace, ring, and bracelet, every spare gem, set or unset, was taken. “Not only that, but two of the vans I sent out never came back. Not the vans, not the drivers.” Rarity was breathing heavily now, and she seemed on the verge of tears. “It was just horrible, Sunny, just horrible. So much effort, so many supplies, gone in an instant. And now I have clients breathing down my neck, my workers are starting to get suspicious, I’m rushing orders to get both the old and the new out and, and, oh.” And with that, Rarity slumped over, and began to weep whole-heartedly. 
Sunset rose halfway from her chair then stopped, hands outstretched. She had no idea what to do. Looking around the room like the mannequins would help her… she frowned. Wait. What the hell?
“You said all your gems were taken right?” She didn’t even have to look to see Rarity’s nod. “If all your gems were taken, what’s all this?” Sunset swept her hand over the room, where gemstones glittered from every space imaginable.
Rarity sniffled. “Oh they’re fake. Just pretty colored glass.”
Huh. Sunset began to walk the room, taking particular care around every “gemstone” she could see, staring them up and down intently. Checking to be sure that Rarity was still in her slump, Sunset plucked one of the bigger ones she could see right off its display. It glinted with a dull green light as she slipped it into her pocket.
“Were any of the fakes stolen?” Sunset walked back to her chair, not ready to sit down but wanting to be in arm's reach of Rarity. Just in case.
Rarity pulled her head out of her arms, her blue eyes wild and sparkling with tears. “No, of course not. They’re worthless. Completely worthless.” Her bottom lip began to quiver, and fresh tears began to course down her face. 
“But Rarity,” Sunset spoke quickly, to stop the flow. “Rarity, I’m no gem expert, but for the life of me I can’t tell the difference between the real ones and the fake ones. Why would your thieves?” A thought occurred to her. “Hell, why would your clients? Why don’t you just ship them some glass, save yourself the cost?”
Rarity looked as though Sunset had both slapped her and shot her cat. Her eyes were suddenly very dry. “I cannot believe you would even suggest such a thing. That would be tantamount to robbing them myself! At the Carousel, we serve our customers the very best, the very finest, the very essence of perfection, and would never give an inch less. Goodness, can you imagine the headlines were we found out?” Rarity was on her feet now, her hair hanging in imperfect strands, her normal perfection given way to a rough chaos.
She snatched up a ruby from her wall. “You would like to know the difference, yes? Well here is the difference!” Rarity held the ruby high above her head, and threw it at the ground. It shattered in a red splash across the floor. “A ruby does not break Sunset Shimmer. Glass does.” 

**

In her car, Sunset took a breath, and took stock. Two vans, two drivers, Celestia only knows how much money… This was a big case, very big. Rarity never made things easy, did she? Sunset sighed, and examined the emerald she’d taken. Sharp on the edges, not exactly fragile. Polished glass. Easier to use plastic, less expensive too. But perhaps plastic didn’t give off light as easily? Sunset held the fake emerald up to her window, and watched green sunlight play off the seats behind her. 
Sunset slipped the fake back into her pocket with a sigh. Something was off about the emerald, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. And right now, there were real gems to be worrying about. She looked at the addresses Rarity had given her, employees, ex and current, and van drivers, including the missing two. 
“I need everyone who has ever worked here. Those two didn’t do this alone.” 
Rarity had nodded and gone to her computer, printing out everything Sunset asked for. “These are a lot of addresses darling. You’ll be doing an obscene amount of footwork all for me.”
“Part of the job.”
“And you’ve nothing else?” Rarity had asked. “I’m not getting in the way of other paying work am I?”
“No,” Sunset said. “I’ve got nothing else on my plate right now. Your case will have my full attention.” 
In Sunset’s car, a little blue case file winked at the back of her mind. Sunset grimaced, and turned her ignition. She’d promised full attention, and she’d give it. The blue case file skittered to the back of her thoughts, forcefully. 
Running down leads was almost always excessively boring, and the past few days had been no exception to that fact. A stranger knocking on your door is always cause for a bit of alarm, but when they start asking some frankly accusatory questions about your loved ones or you yourself, well; unless they show you a badge, you show them the door. Sunset got more doors slammed in her face and on her ass than she had in months, and that was including her nights at the bar. 
Some names she could scratch off just by getting a look around their place, asking a few innocent questions. Most she’d have to come back to, look into the hard way. Which meant wasted, cold nights looking through windows and inside trash cans. She still found herself hoping that one of these people would show up to the door draped in gemstones, but even that drained out of her when she got down to the last ten. She kept the two mystery drivers till the end. 
It was a risk, but a calculated one: as the strongest suspects, they were the most likely to run the hell out of town. But, there were only so many places a person could go to disappear, and Sunset could track down all of them. The longer they thought they were safe, the sloppier they’d become, and that would only make her job easier. Of course, if she was too confident, and they were too paranoid, they could slip right through her fingers. But that was a risk she was willing to take. Besides, maybe they were stupid enough to just stay home.
First driver was a no go: Sunset ran into his wife, who ranted for thirty minutes about how he hadn’t come home in weeks, about what a waste of space he was, and told Sunset that if she found him she should shoot him rather than bringing him home. Sunset snooped around the house, searched through some drawers, slipped a few business cards into her pockets, but the place was pretty clean. Aside from the cigarettes, empty bottles, and garbage bags lying everywhere. Almost felt like home. She eventually had to just walk out the door with the wife still screaming at her back. Lady wouldn’t shut up, and even as Sunset drove off she could hear her voice ringing through the windows. No wonder the guy got out of town. Merciful Luna.
Staring at the run-down house in the middle of nowhere, Sunset started to get the creeps. Just a little shiver between the shoulder blades, an itch across her palms. Enough to wish she’d brought her gun along. But she hadn’t, and the little bit of daylight left was wasting. It was now or never. Or tomorrow. Sunset shook her head. No. Now.  
Sunset pulled open the screen door, sunlight bouncing off the metallic sidings of the house, the roof flat and barely peeping up over the sides. Holding the screen with her boot, she knocked on the door, feeling the thing almost bend under her blows before she realized and held back. She waited maybe thirty seconds for a response, then tugged the door open and stepped inside. She wasn’t really surprised that the door was unlocked. When people ran they generally forgot about what they left behind. But the itch in her palms started to burn a bit worse, and she stayed tense, ready for a fight. So tense in fact, that when she stumbled across the body she almost jumped into a fighting stance. But Dealt Hand, as that was the second driver’s name, was in no condition to fight. He was dead.
Sunset gasped and reeled back, her heart pounding in her chest, nausea roiling in the pit of her stomach. She had expected a lot of things coming into this place, but a corpse wasn’t one of them. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. The tiniest beam of sunlight, bouncing through the window shades, warmed Sunset’s face, and she remembered what Celestia had told her, all those years ago.
“Emotions are powerful, and should be allowed to run their course, with control. However, there are times when there is simply a job to be done, times when you must steel your heart and do your work.” At the time, Sunset had thrown a tantrum about cleaning up her room, and had ignored Celestia’s words until it was far too late. But, somehow, all these years later, in front of a dead man, Celestia’s advice still rang true. Sunset took a deep breath, steeled her heart, and got to work.
She knelt down over the dead man, and examined his face. She began muttering to herself, talking the details out. “Okay man. What happened to you?” She rolled his head to one side, and grimaced with distaste. “Lower left side of face completely ruined. Blackened flesh surrounding a hole maybe two inches across. Teeth cracked, fused together by some intense heat, and… oh Celestia.” She stepped back from the body a bit, rubbing her hands on her jeans. “And that’s a bit of his brain still leaking from his ear. Fucking great.” 
She tilted her head, taking in the man as a whole. “Hole in his hand, right through the middle. Defensive wound?” She lifted the hand, and pressed it up against his face. The holes lined up more or less perfectly. “Bit of a slop job. No blood, but he had time to defend himself.” She looked to the wall, at the line of black, curled wallpaper that traced sharply up and across the window, leaving the glass bubbled and warped. “Heat, high powered, beam…” Her palm started to itch, but she pushed her fear downward. There was only one thing that could cause this kind of damage, but she still had a scene to check.
Before she left the body, she rooted through his pockets, finding a few cigarettes and his car keys. She placed them to the side, and started to walk the room’s periphery, to see if anything was out of place. She knelt once more. “Specks of glass, and blood by the wall. Hmm.” She returned to the body, and turned his head to the left, hiding the ravaged side, and showing. “Yup. Wound on his temple, non-fatal, with bits of glass stuck to it.” She let his head fall again. She continued tracing the room across, finding a back room with square indents in the thin carpets. “Boxes, heavy. Probably our missing gems.” 
Sunset hunted about, finding more bits of broken glass scattered around the body, and some out into the hall, those too spattered with blood. In the bedroom, it was like an explosion had gone off but… not from fighting. A suitcase was on the bed, piled with clothes and various items, small things with sentimental value, an old fork and a little electric candle. “Looks like our friend was gonna cut and run before he ran into trouble.”
On the dresser she found a bus ticket, one way, no stop to the next city over. He hadn’t been running far. She pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of the ticket. Beside it was the man’s ragged wallet, no cash, packed full with old business cards for bars, taxis, even cosmetics. Sunset saw the tasteful white of Rarity’s own card peeking out from the mess.
“Guy’s a collector.” She slipped a few of the newer looking cards into her pocket, as well as two of the credit cards she found. She left the wallet where she found it. 
Sunset searched the rest of the house, but didn’t find anything else worth noting. Just empty cartons of cereal and milk three weeks expired. The violence had been sudden, unexpected. The move had been planned for a while. Sunset took a few more pictures of everything worth keeping, then left the house, closing the door carefully behind her. Then she dialed the number of her favorite police chief.

**

“And you called as soon as you found him?”
“Of course I did Nails. I stumble in, find the body, stumble out.”
Nails looked as though he wanted to argue, but instead sighed and turned back to the crime scene in progress. “Christ.” 
“Yeah.”
The little house was swarming with police in uniform, coroners in scrubs, people doing tests, taking pictures, roping off the area. The middle of nowhere was suddenly the center of everything.
“How’d you find this guy so quick? I give you the case and in less than a week you’ve turned up a body.”
Sunset shivered. The blue case file prodded her, hard. “Coincidence. I haven’t even decided to help you out yet. I’m working another gig.”
Chief Nails looked unconvinced. “Uh huh. Well, thanks for the load of paperwork you dropped on my lap. You know.” Nails dropped his voice, and turned away from the bustle at the crime scene. “I’m gonna have to call in the Feds on this one. You want me to keep you out of it?” 
Sunset looked at him, really looked at him, and realized the huge, generous, and dangerous favor he was offering. She was filled with intense gratitude. Maybe she’d buy him a new special occasion bottle. “I appreciate that, really. But I’m not hiding.” She watched the uniforms patrol back and forth across the dead grass. “I’m not hiding.”
Nails just nodded and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “You turn anything else up, call me. See you around Sunny.” He padded his way towards the house, stepping over the tape and shouting at any officers that moved too slowly.
Sunset hopped into her car, and dialed Rarity’s cell as she left the place behind. To say Rarity was upset would be an understatement. 
“I told you to be discrete. No one was allowed to know anything. No police, no clients, no fucking journalists. And here you tell me that one of my driver’s homes is a damned crime scene, and you are the one who told them. I gave this to you. Just you. And you splash it across the city in less than a week.”
Sunset sighed, holding the phone between shoulder and cheek as she cruised between two cars moving too slow for her liking. “Listen Rarity, no one knows it has to do with you. There were no gems there and nothing to connect him to anything except his employment records. It’s tied to a bigger case they won’t be looking at you. Promise.”
“Yes, because I’ve been able to trust your promises so much lately.” There was a click in Sunsets ear, and she let her phone fall to her lap. 
“For fuck’s sake.”

**

Chief Nails stood alone over the body of Dealt Hand, frowning at the damage he saw. Hell of a thing, this killer. This monster. Movement flashed from the corner of his eye, and he walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, the screen door between him and what was happening outside. And what was happening made his mouth fall open.
Three men in black suits, with black sunglasses, were pushing his officers away from the crime scene, flashing badges and pointing. Two others held a device like the Chief had never seen; a black rubber handle attached to a silver box as big as a fist, with two ribbed antennas sticking straight out the top, and two sticking from the sides, bent ninety degrees so that their rounded tips pointed up as well. The back of the thing was a mass of curling wires, red, green, yellow. 
The two men swung their devices this way and that, and Nails was able to see the clumped dials and black gradient screen that made up the front. Then, almost in unison, the two men turned and pointed their devices directly at Nails. Instinctively, he threw up his hands to defend himself from God knows what as the four antennas began to spark with blue and purple energy. But all that happened was the two men marched steadily closer, and the Chief composed himself before they opened the screen. 
He opened his mouth to greet them, and they brushed past him without a word, delving into the house with their faces pressed to their screens. Nails turned and stared after them in confused silence, then started when he heard the cough behind him. Turning more rapidly, he found himself face to face with the golden shield of a badge. And behind it, amethyst colored eyes that square rimmed glasses were unable to stop from cutting.
“Special Agent Twilight Sparkle, Director of AERD. I presume you’re Chief Nails.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She had an aura of command that put the Chief on edge, like she was comfortable giving orders anywhere at anytime. It was an aura that meshed rather awkwardly with her outward appearance. She was a slight, pretty girl, purple hair slashed with pink and lavender, tied up in a messy ponytail. Her bangs were cut just above her glasses, and stood out in straggly, crazed angles that implied it had never even heard of a comb. A disordered appearance that hid a well-ordered mind. 
“It’s good that you called this in. Things have been extremely dry lately and I’ve been dying to get my hands on a new sample. Shall we?” Pulling her own device from somewhere within her long coat, she led the way into the house. After a second of hesitation, Nails followed. 
By the time he set foot in the kitchen, Twilight Sparkle was already pressing her device to the corpse, running it up and down, turning knobs and dials and nodding at the screen as though she understood the garbled mess of green that sped across it. Only one of the men from before was there, pressing his own device to the cupboards and over the sink, but Nails could hear heavy footfalls and the strange zapping whine of the second man moving around the rest of the house.
Nails stepped up to Twilight quietly, not wanting to disturb, well, whatever it was that she was doing, but she started speaking before he even came close. “Disturbing amounts of energy went into killing this man. Who is he?” Chief Nails, startled, looked around him as though he was going to find his coroner in one of the drawers, information in hand. But he was alone, and when he turned back Twilight was silently pinning him down with her disturbingly sharp gaze.
“Uh, right. Dealt Hand, thirty or so, died about three days ago. He’s a driver, works for the Carousel Boutique. We’ve been trying to get in touch with them but no answer so far.” Twilight gave a little grunt and went back to the body and her device. Nails shifted his feet uncomfortably in the new silence, cut only by the continued buzzing of the strange devices. 
After a while of this, he was about to make his excuses and run, when Twilight turned her attention on him again. “Who found him?”
“Sunset Shimmer.” The name tumbled out without a thought, and he winced. But Twilight just nodded. 
“Thanks for your time.” Nails suddenly found a firm hand on each of his elbows, and he was led out of the scene by two overlarge gentlemen in suits. “Call if you find more.”
With the Chief gone, Twilight let out a sigh. She hadn’t gotten readings like this in a long time, and still wasn’t sure whether or not the energy was contagious. For now, she was treating it like radiation for everyone but her team, but some information couldn’t be gathered with scanners. She’d have to cross-reference with what his team picked up, and it wouldn’t do to seem unsociable.
Sunset Shimmer. Of course she’d be wrapped up in this. Twilight couldn’t think of the last time magic leaking into the world couldn’t be tied back to that girl. Sunset had been off the grid long enough that some in the department thought she was dead. But Twilight knew. It was time to pay a visit to an old friend.