//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: A Dark Knight Over Trottingham // by iowaforever //------------------------------// Chapter 3 Trottingham Police Headquarters was one of the better maintained buildings in the city, something that bothered Braeburn. To someone who had actually been within the system, seen all it secrets and falsehoods, the Headquarters building looked less like a symbol of justice and more like a pair of gaudy curtains meant to hide reality from the casual observer. At least they actually try to look official. It was a small comfort, but Braeburn had learned to take whatever he could. He shook his head and made his way up the steps, pushing open the door and dusting some of the snow off his body. Most of the other officers within the building paid him no mind, and those that did notice him gave him disdainful glances before returning to their work. Braeburn paid them no mind, brushing past them as he made his way to the Commissioner’s office. Walking into the Commissioner’s office, Braeburn almost choked on the cloud of cigar smoke wafting from the corner. Braeburn did not even have to look to know that it was Straight Six, a beige unicorn who had a “mixed” reputation among the other members of the Force. Braeburn paid him no mind, ignoring Straight Six’s dissatisfied grunt and instead mustering whatever sense of professionalism he still had. “You asked to see me, sir?” he asked. The Commissioner, a wizened old Earth Pony whose name eluded Braeburn, looked up from his paperwork before nodding. “Oh yes, Braeburn.” the Commissioner replied, turning to face Braeburn. “First, I just wanted to congratulate you on the Diamond Hoof case. Hopefully, we can make some more headway in digging deeper into the Falcon’s empire.” Given that half the cops on the Force are on his payroll, I highly doubt that, Braeburn thought, but he responded with a short nod. “Thank you, sir. Is that all?” “Not quite,” the old Earth Pony coughed before continuing. “Now, I take it you are familiar with Detective Straight Six?” “‘Familiar’?” Straight Six asked from his position, stifling a laugh. “Boss, you’re makin’ me sound like some kinda hood.” Braeburn’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. “Regardless,” the Commissioner continued. “You do know the detective, yes?” “Not personally, no,” Braeburn said, keeping his voice even and controlled. “But I do know of the detective, and some of his... actions.” “And what makes some hick like you think you can judge me for ‘em?” Straight Six snapped, standing up and crossing to Braeburn. “I’ve actually gotten results around here, and what have ya done? Got lucky and snagged some two-bit lackey? Please, I coulda done that in my sleep.” Fortunately for Braeburn, the Commissioner cut him off before the conversation could devolve into a full blown argument. “Gentlecolts, please,” he said, his voice rising just enough to imitate authority. “Now, you can bicker all you want, as long as it doesn’t interfere with you doing your jobs.” “... Sorry, Boss.” Straight Six muttered, taking another puff from his cigar before wandering over to the other side of the office. That settled, Braeburn spoke up again. “I take it Detective Straight Six has something to do with this?” he asked. “Yes.” the Commissioner replied. “To increase efficiency, I’ve decided to pair the two of you together for future cases.” “What?!” both Braeburn and Straight Six cried, the latter turning to face the Commissioner. “Boss, ya seriously can’t think pairin’ me off with some newbie is a good idea, can ya?” the unicorn asked. “Straight Six and I don’t like each other,” Braeburn added. “How is that supposed to add to our ‘efficiency’?” “I think that some of our newer recruits have not had the chance to really ‘learn the ropes’ of this city,” the Commissioner said, coughing again. “So Six will mentor you, and hopefully you two will provide a more effective model for the future.” “That... doesn’t really answer my question.” Braeburn replied, his face and spirits dropping. “You can work out the details later.” the Commissioner looked back down at his paperwork. “You two are dismissed.” “But what’s going to stop-” Braeburn began before the Commissioner cut him off. “That’s all. You are dismissed.” Braeburn’s jaw tightened again, but he merely nodded and exited the room, Straight Six following after him. Once they were outside, and out of earshot of the Commissioner, Braeburn let out a frustrated sigh. “Guess I’m not the only one who thinks the old kook’s goin’ senile.” Straight Six grunted. “Anyway, s’long as ya don’t slow me down or get in my way we’ll work out just fine.” “Oh, that’ll be fine,” Braeburn muttered, following the detective towards the entrance to the building. “Guess I’ll also have to think of a good reason to explain why half the criminals you bring in have sustained injuries they couldn’t possibly have gotten given the crimes you caught them committing.” At this, Straight Six stopped and turned around, blowing a cloud of smoke in Braeburn’s face. “Listen, newbie. Ya think you’re some kinda hotshot who’s gonna change the world by himself.” he let out a rough chuckle before continuing. “I was stupid like that once. Then I learned that these streets don’t play nice, so that doesn’t give me any incentive to play nice with them. So if ya want to be all high and mighty on me, go ahead. Just do it somewhere that it won’t get in my way.” with that, Straight Six exited the building, Braeburn waiting a minute before following after him. “Improve efficiency”? he thought. Just seems like a convenient way to get us out of the way. ///////// It had started snowing when Blueblood had left the Manor. He did not mind the snow; it was just another part of life in Trottingham, something that each and every citizen had to cope with one way or another. His first stop had been the florist two blocks down from City Hall. The owner was a nice old mare Blueblood had been referred to back when he had first taken over Mane Enterprises, and she always had a variety of arrangements available. White roses were hard to come by, but they had known each other long enough that the mare was able to save a bouquet when he made his annual visit. Soon, the high rises and glamor of central Trottingham gave way to urban squalor and decay. The section had once been one of the up and coming neighborhoods of the city, the old mayor praising the plans he and his fellows had come up with. Now, the name “Crime Alley” hung over the block like a cloud, never shifting as it drew more and more lives towards ruin. Blueblood had barely spent three minutes in the Alley, and it had done its share of damage. As he walked, he spotted a couple of ponies waiting near one of the apartments. Rough looking types, they eyed him as he continued along, their gazes narrowing with each step he took. Blueblood pushed them out of mind, his attention focused on the alley further down the road. One of the ponies, though, did not seem willing to let him get off that easily, and stepped out towards Blueblood. “A little Hearth’s Warming gift for ponies in need?” he asked, voice dripping in sarcasm. Blueblood said nothing, instead stepping to the side and walking past the surprised stallion. “Hey, you can’t just walk off like that!” the pony cried, but Blueblood continued on, pausing only as he turned the corner and started down the alley. The town may have fallen to decay, but the alley was still the same as it was all those years ago. Old memories began to return, those of a young and naive colt wandering into unseen danger, but Blueblood was quick to quell them before they took hold and broke his focus. There would be time for remembrances; just not yet. He stopped in the center of the alley, pausing for a moment before gently placing the roses on the ground, backing up slightly to leave a little room for the makeshift memorial. Now, he allowed his memories to come forth. “Ha ha! Take that, evildoers!” his younger self darted along the street, sweeping an invisible sword at enemies only he could see. The heroes from the film would be proud to count him among their number, all of them fighting against the forces of evil and tyranny... whatever that was. “Don’t run off now, Blueblood,” his mother called after him, causing Blueblood to groan in frustration. There was evil to be fought, and he couldn’t be stuck with his parents looking over his shoulder all the time. “But I need to defeat evil!” he protested. “Listen to your mother, Blueblood.” His father countered. “There will be plenty of time to defeat evil once we get back home.” “Fine...” Blueblood groaned again, slowing down his pace so that he was walking in step with his parents. There was silence, save for the slight crunching of snow beneath his hooves, but he was quick to put it out of mind. Maybe he could fight evil from here; there was always a way through which good could shine. “Dear, why did you have Pennyworth wait so far away?” his mother asked as they kept walking. “I didn’t want to draw too much attention, Martha,” Blueblood’s father replied. “As wonderful as the ponies of Trottingham are, we would never be able to make it very far if everypony knew where we would be going.” “But it’s so cold; we’ll be half frozen by the time we get back to the house.” Blueblood was only half listening to his parents’ conversation, but freezing was no good. How would his father get his work done, or Blueblood be able to take his heroics further? A thought popped into his mind as they walked. “Hey Dad,” he said, “What about that alley over there?” “I don’t know, son,” his father said. “I suppose it might make for a good shortcut, but walking through alleys isn’t always a good idea...” “Come on Dad!” Blueblood tugged on his father’s coat sleeve. “I’ll protect us from the evil!” If it could win ponies over in the movies, it would certainly work here. There was a brief pause before his father gave a chuckle. “Alright,” he said. “But stay close to us; no need to go running on ahead.” Ha! Now he would show them all. Blueblood stopped just at the entrance to the alley, peering down in search of evil. He did not see any, much to his disappointment, but there would be better opportunities soon, he was sure of it. “Beware my sword!” he called, sweeping out at invisible enemies. “Ha! You can never escape from the eyes of-” Blueblood stopped, spotting a shape among the shadows of the alley. It was a pony, he thought, a rough looking sort with something clutched in his magic. Blueblood backed up, bumping into his parents’ legs as the other pony stopped in front of them. “Nice night for a walk, eh?” the pony said, raising his weapon towards the three of them. “Unfortunately, not all of us can afford to live in a fancy house this time of year... We’ll start with the lady’s pearls.” “Get behind me,” Blueblood did not hesitated as his father pushed him back. “It’s okay, son... everything will be okay...” Blueblood swallowed, eyes darting between his father and the mugger. There had to be something he could do, some way to combat the evil before him. The heroes he had seen would have done something. Blueblood, on the other hand, could not. What happened next was a blur of motion; as the mugger drew near, Blueblood’s father appeared to lunged towards the weapon, trying to wrestle it away from his grasp. The mugger’s eyes widened as he jumped back, his yelp drowned out by a loud bang. Blueblood ducked, covering his ears doing little to drown out his mother screaming. There was another bang before she too fell silent, Blueblood wincing as something heavy collapsed against the pavement. All was silent. Now, Blueblood was alone. Blueblood opened his eyes, drawing back to the present. The police had never found out who it was who had shot his parents, or what exactly it was that the pony had used to kill them. All that remained was the spot where they had died... and the pony who had led them to it. “For what it’s worth,” he said, closing his eyes once more. “I’m sorry for all I’ve done. I promise, I will make things right... somehow.” There was no answer, just the wind whipping up a few small flurries of snow. With a sigh, Blueblood turned to start back down the alley, leaving his parent’s memorial for next year. Unfortunately, his memorial appeared to have attracted attention; the rough looking stallions from before, along with a few others, still lingered at the end of the alley, eyeing him as he approached. Blueblood was nowhere near as nervous as he had been as a child, but it still took quite a bit of skill to keep his composure. “Still waiting for your donation, sir.” the closest one said as Blueblood approached. “I don’t have any loose change on me,” Blueblood replied, keeping his voice even. “Leave me alone before you do something you’ll regret.” “Ha! You think a stuffed shirt like you can take us?” the second pony said. “Our boss would rather have you in one piece, but if you insist on resisting...” Blueblood quirked an eyebrow at this. Trottingham’s mob was rather easily offended, but even they would never raise a hoof against Blueblood Mane... would they? Now was not the time to figure out. “Listen, if it’s money you want I can make sure your boss gets everything he desires.” Blueblood started, backing up slightly as the others advanced. “Yeah, he’s got enough of that... but then, there’s always better ways to get more.” the pony looked to his compatriots. “Grab him.” ///////// “... of course, by then the hood’d sprained his ankle jumpin’ the gap, so it was just a matter of bookin’ him and cleanin’ up the mess he’d left.” Braeburn had done his best to drown out most of Straight Six’s monologues, pushing it towards another piece of white noise to go with the cigar smoke as they walked towards Crime Alley. “No need to rough up a hood iffn he’s already done it himself.” “I’d say there’s no need to ‘rough up a hood’ on principle, but then you wouldn’t listen to me anyway.” Braeburn replied. “What’s the point? You’ll understand why we gotta do things my way.” Straight Six took a drag from his cigar and continued. “‘Course, even though I don’t like ya, we’ve gotta make sure ya actually get to that point; no point in gettin’ more dead cops ‘round here, and the Commissioner doesn’t need anythin’ more to make him look bad.” “That, at least, is something we can agree on.” At this, Straight Six laughed. “Ya don’t know the half of it. I only stick around because I’m sure the Commissioners’ pals would be very ‘welcomin’’ if I wasn’t on the force. That’s happened to a few of the ponies that’ve left; I remember there was one young colt like ya...” And off he went on another one of his stories, Braeburn keeping his eyes forward. If they deviated more from his typical “the world is cruel, so be cruel back” outlook, Straight Six might have done well with storytelling at one of the Apple Family Reunions... unlikely, but Braeburn had been surprised before. Their trek took them around an old theatre, rotting from several years of neglect. Beyond, Braeburn could see lines of shuttered businesses and barred up apartments, separated by alleys littered with trash. From his research this area had been a rising model of prosperity until the Mane murders, and now all that remained was Crime Alley. Further up the street, Braeburn could see some kind of commotion at the entrance to one of the alleys; perhaps half a dozen ponies, a mix of Earth Ponies and unicorns, clearly jostling with one another over some target. “Gang fight, perhaps?” Braeburn asked, more to himself than anypony else. “Nah, they look too clean to be normal hoods.” Straight Six countered. “Check it out if ya want, but don’t be surprised if they start swingin’.” I’ve been here long enough; I know what to look out for. Braeburn merely rolled his eyes as he and Straight Six trotted over to the scuffled. “Trottingham Police!” he shouted, catching the attention of at least two ponies. “What seems to be the trouble?” “Stay out of this, boy,” the closer one said, stepping forward to intercept Braeburn and Straight Six. “This is a personal matter, so shove off and go back to checking parking meters again.” “As your ‘personal matter’ is causing a public disturbance, I believe it is my business to inquire into the problem,” Braeburn firmed up his stance. “Now, I know the last thing any of us want is trouble, so I can give you a small fine for the disturbance or book you for resisting police inquiry: it’s your choice.” “If you’re goin’ to throw the book at ‘em,” Straight Six said from behind Braeburn. “Might want to start by actually throwin’ it instead of makin’ empty threats.” Braeburn ignored his “partner”, but the other pony was not in the mood to cooperate. “Listen here,” the pony said, taking a step towards Braeburn. “Maybe you need to be reminded of how things work around here, but this is nothing you need to be concerned about. So shove off before you really get hurt.” “I suppose you’re going for resisting police inquiry,” Braeburn said. “Very well, consider yourself under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-” the pony took a swing, Braeburn narrowly avoiding the attack with a short jump back. “Take the others!” “Finally, you’re seein’ things my way.” Straight Six darted forward, barrelling over one of the ponies that stepped in his way. The first took another swing at Braeburn, to which he ducked under before turning and bucking. Getting bucked by anypony would have caused some injury. Braeburn was an Apple, and getting bucked by an Apple meant that the other pony found himself knocked unconscious against the far wall. That task complete, Braeburn moved towards the next member of the group, a skinnier fellow who seemed much more receptive to the idea of coming quietly. Straight Six, meanwhile, had knocked down one pony and was in the process of pinning a second against a wall, the last having slipped away and booked it down the street. “Not so tough now, huh?” Straight Six growled. “C’mon, take another swing, I dare ya. I’ve had t’ put up with enough crap this week; take a swing and I’ll probably feel a whole lot better once you’re out.” “Detective, please,” Braeburn said, stepping forward towards the unicorn. “We’ve got them, and you’ve got your dose of violence for the day. Let’s try to show these guys that the law actually has some semblance of meaning around here.” “Eh, these punks’ll never understand till ya give ‘em a few good licks, trust me on that.” Straight Six drew his hoof back for a punch, but Braeburn stepped forward to stop him. “He’s beaten already,” he said, speaking more firmly this time. “Book him, and maybe he’ll be more forthcoming on what he was doing than if you punch him in the face.” there was a lengthy pause, Straight Six glaring at Braeburn before finally lowering his hoof. “Fine, we’ll do this your way.” he growled, taking another puff from his cigar. “Friggin’ bleedin’ hearts: give ‘em an inch, they pave a road over ya for life.” Braeburn was pretty sure that was not how the phrase went, but pushed it out of his mind as he went to gather up the criminals. Four ponies, three Earth Ponies and one unicorn. Two were unconscious or close enough, the others calmly accepted their arrest (as calm enough for criminals, at any rate). That left two ponies unaccounted for, and hopefully Straight Six had gotten a good look at the others so they could be properly profiled. Braeburn backed up after hoofcuffing the last, scanning them to make sure he had gotten everypony. It was then that he noticed a fifth pony crumpled against a nearby trash can. Oh horseapples, Braeburn pushed past the criminals and approached the fifth pony. He was a unicorn, well built yet soft at the same time. His coat was white, his mane blond, and his suit would have been rather fine had it not been torn in several places. “Straight Six, we’ve got another one!” “Just keep it ta ‘Six’ kid,” the unicorn grumbled, trotting over with another puff of his cigar. Straight Six regarded the unicorn for a moment before his jaw dropped. “Sweet Celestia, that’s Blueblood Mane!” “That big industrialist everypony keeps talking about?” Braeburn asked. “‘The Prince of Trottingham’?” “Ya don’t get out much, do ya rookie?” Straight Six asked. Braeburn could not answer before Blueblood groaned, rolling his head to one side as he came to. “Easy, sir,” Braeburn said. “You’ve been in a fight.” “... Really?” the unicorn asked. “Oh... I should’ve known they were up to something.” “Ya must’ve got knocked ‘round real good,” Straight Six said. “Keep an eye on him, rookie; I’ll get us some backup..” Braeburn nodded, keeping his eye on Blueblood. The Unicorn tried to get to his feet, but Braeburn eased him back down. “Rest, sir. We’re getting you some help.” Blueblood, though, would not settle down. “No... no, they’ll just find me again,” he said, pushing Braeburn away as he struggled back to his hooves. “Who’s ‘they’?” Braeburn asked. “Mr. Mane-” “Blueblood,” the unicorn said quickly. “No one I like calls me ‘Mr. Mane’.” “Oh...” Braeburn paused. “Mr. Blueblood, sir, if you think some ponies are after you, we’ll need to get you down to the station to make a statement and go over some witnesses. It should only take a few hours, but I recommend seeing a doctor first about your injuries.” “I’ll be fine,” he said, stepping out into the street. “Just a little dizzy, that’s all.” “At least wait here until we can get more backup,” Braeburn offered. “You won’t get very far through Trottingham like this.” Blueblood did not say anything, causing Braeburn to frown slightly. Were the Manes known for their stubbornness too? He thought, adding another pony to the list of “Ponies to Invite to the Apple Family Reunion if They Were More Personable”, right after Straight Six. He opened his mouth to say more before the unicorn replied. “That should be alright.” he said. “Thank you for your services, Officer.” “Apple, sir.” Braeburn said quickly. “Braeburn Apple.” “An Apple...” Blueblood thought on that for a moment before speaking again. “My father knew a few Apples: good honest folk, not very tolerant of twisted plans. It’s good to see that some spark hasn’t died in that like.” “Well, thank you kindly, Mr. Blueblood.” Braeburn said, giving a short nod. “Now, let’s get you out of this cold until the others arrive.” Blueblood nodded, slowly making his way towards the edge of the alley before gingerly stepping around the hoofcuffed ponies. Braeburn did not immediately follow, instead making a sweep of the alley for any signs of intrusion. Other than a slightly trampled bouquet of white roses, there was nothing out of the ordinary to be found in the alley. What the heck’s a rich business pony like him doing in a place like this?