//------------------------------// // Life on the Murder Scene Pt 2 // Story: Marjoram // by Nekiyha //------------------------------// The ponies of Ponyville were terrified, and Twilight was no exception. Ever since the news broke of the murder, the townspeople had been beyond tense. Nopony talked about the killing outright, still blind to the possibilities that bad things happened to good ponies. They couldn’t handle the idea that not all was Harmony and Friendship all the time. As much as Twilight was loathe to admit it, the slap back into reality was one she’d needed. Murders were rare, even in Canterlot; but she had almost forgotten the grisly details that had shaped her perspective of ponies for so long. Ponies could be bad. Ponies could do horrific things, and sometimes good ponies paid the price. Life had never been better in Equestria, Celestia’s Harmony Movement had done so much to stabilize Equestria and stop so many of the horrors that had plagued older civilizations in the past. Most vices were almost eradicated; drug addiction, alcoholism, prostitution, murder to name the main ones. So rare, in places, that ponies could live countless lives and never be exposed to some of them. Twilight knew better. Celestia had taught her to see the good in ponies and in the power of friendship. Growing up, Marjoram had showed her what nopony wanted to talk about; the things ponies did when they thought they had nothing left. That knowledge, as well as the fact that most children her age hadn’t been able to understand half of what she was talking about, had been deciding factors in her isolation. Now, she was being reminded all over again how ponies could react while under pressure. Almost everypony, while scared and anxious for news, behaved as they always did. They did their best, and tried to ensure life continued, even for those who were having a hard time.The scary thing that just made things worse, was the fact that there were no suspects. The police hadn’t arrested anyone for the murder of Melody Charm. There had been some questioning; mostly Melody’s family and friends, Peachy Keen, then Marjoram himself. Peachy testified for Marjoram’s innocence, and in his own investigation he cleared her name. Melody had died of blood loss and shock. She hadn’t done it to herself, and the weapon found on the scene had been the murder weapon. The knife was clean, the forensic lab in Canterlot reported. Too clean; so whoever had committed the crime was likely to be a unicorn. Very few pegasi and earth ponies could handle a knife without some trace: teeth marks, fur left behind, or in some rare cases, shed feathers. A unicorn had committed the first murder ever in Ponyville. It wasn’t clear if it was premeditated or not, but Melody had died alone in the alley, just after midnight. No witnesses appeared, and no leads had been found. Ponyville was terrified. A curfew was in place, nopony went anywhere alone, and newspapers weren’t helping. Fearmongers roamed in packs, some businesses refused to open, and everypony was panicking. Marjoram would like to say he was better than them, but honestly he was just more accustomed to hiding his worry and fear. He always knew were Twilight and Spike were, and it became custom for them to inform him where they were going without him asking. They never left the house by themselves. Marjoram left for business, but little else. His presence made ponies more jumpy, and it was just better for him to stay in the library or in his office. Less than a week after Melody Charm, another body was found. A baseball bat was used this time, and it was just as clean. The victim this time was an old pony, well-known amongst his neighbours for being cranky. Looking at how advanced the old pony’s arthritis was, Marjoram couldn’t begrudge the dead; chronic pain changed ponies. The old pony’s name had been Bright Rhyme, known for his poetry writing. He’d just gotten back from some sort of conference in Canterlot a few days before his death. It was then discovered that Melody had returned to Ponyville from a weekend spent with relatives in Manehattan. No similarities between the victims could be found, except the fact they’d travelled. Other than that, there was nothing similar at all. Different trains, different locations. Even different ponies were working when they bought their tickets. There was the same employee working when they both got back to Ponyville, but he was an old unicorn himself. He was cleared of being a suspect fairly quickly, on merit and testimony of the ponies who had disembarked along with Bright Rhyme. After Bright Rhyme, Celestia and Luna sent guards to Ponyville, hoping to deter both the murderer, and help boost morale. While the guards helped keep things calm on a surface level, the guards couldn’t really help the police figure out who was the murderer. They just helped patrol and try to keep ponies safe. This freed more of the police to work on trying to figure out who the murderer was. That hadn’t helped. In the meantime, Marjoram had finally written to Shores. He told her what had happened with Carnation, as well as keeping her updated with news of the state of Ponyville. Several hours later, Celestia had sent a letter through Spike. It was a response from Shores, saying that Shores had permission to go down to Ponyville that night, most likely on the late night train that travelled between Canterlot and Ponyville. If things changed, Celestia would send another scroll through. Spike coughed, rubbing at his chest, “Y’know, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten a letter.” “Feels different receiving than sending?” Marjoram asked absentmindedly, skimming the letter again. “Yeah...kinda hurts sometimes, like...like when you have to burp, but can’t? I don’t even know.” Marjoram sighed, setting the letter down, “I should talk to the guards, tell them I’ll be out after dark. I should be okay, the platform is well lit and that pony works there too, so I won’t be alone-” “And I’ve lost you,” Spike rolled his eyes. He hopped onto an armchair, and picked up his schoolwork. Sometimes there’s just no pleasing anypony. “Thanks Spike,” Marjoram mumbled, “I’m going to go find a guard. If I’m not back by the time Twilight’s out of the shower let her know where I am?” “I know.” “Thanks.” Then Marjoram was gone. Spike sighed, leaning over his work. Twilight would be upset if he hadn’t at least finished the chapter he was supposed to read of the Magical Compendium. (LINE BREAK) Marjoram sat on the bench beside the lamppost at the Ponyville Station. He was a bit early, but he decided it was worth the risk; he didn’t want Shores walking home alone. He could see the pony inside the station proper, overseeing the ticket and snack sales. Looked like he was getting ready to lock up in preparation for the last train. Marjoram couldn’t blame him. There was a murderer on the loose, and it just made sense for the pony to leave the second the train had left rather than stay and risk himself. Idly, Marjoram couldn’t help but wonder if the train-pony had asked the guard for an escort home? That could explain the humming drifting through the open window. Nopony had been happy enough to sing in weeks. Marjoram couldn’t help but be thankful that somepony at least was trying to be cheerful. Marjoram didn’t have it in himself to try, but it was nice to think not all hope was lost. The cool night air was like a balm to the ever-present ache in his chest, so long as he didn’t move too much. It was a nice change of pace. Ears pricking at the sound of whistling air down the tracks, Marjoram looked up to see the headlights on the front train car. Marjoram sat a little straighter. There was no reason for him to slouch like he was scared. The guards knew he was here, and Celestia willing, there were a few on patrol nearby. Shores didn’t need to know how scared everypony was, not yet. Family matters first. Marjoram remained seated until the train rolled to a stop. With a whoosh of air, the compartment doors all opened in unison. Shores stepped out of the front-most car, her saddlebags bulging. She saw Marjoram, and ran over, almost tackling him to the ground. Her wings fluttered, and she squeezed her front legs around his neck. “I was so worried,” She murmured. “Why? I’m ok.” “I-with what’s going on, I was worried somepony would find out what you did.” “No. Twilight knows, and Spike. Nopony else. C’mon, we need to go. Can’t expect the guards to watch over us all night.” Reluctantly, Shores let go. She sighed, then perked up, “Oh! Good news! Dr. Pneumo ran into me this afternoon, was wondering when you’d be back in Canterlot.” “Yeah?” Marjoram led the way off the platform, keeping his breathing steady. “With your research, and your most recent donation, they’ve finally found a way to aerosolize antibiotics*. Dr.  Pneumo got permission, if you’re interested, he’d like you to be the first pony-candidate. He can’t think of anypony else that would benefit as much as you, potentially.” “Won’t do much. Antibiotics don’t work on the TB.” “No, but Dr. Pneumo said he thinks it might help the health of your overall lungs. Maybe not really relevant now, but later. I sent a package full of new medical equipment he wants you to try. Might not amount to much, but he’s hoping to improve your quality of life and...well your longevity.” Marjoram blinked, “Did he show you how to use everything?” “Yeah. Earlier today. It’s why I couldn’t catch an earlier train. The package should be here before I leave, so we can go over everything together. He said he’d include instructions, and to-” “Call if we have questions,” Marjoram replied dryly, “He always says that.” “He does have some pretty stubborn patients.” Marjoram’s lips quirked at that. Then,he felt a tick of nearby magic. It was a gut feeling, nothing really concrete, but Marjoram felt like he had to react. Without really thinking about it, Marjoram let his magic go. His horn lit, and Shores was shoved down the path several feet. Before Marjoram could understand what was going on, he saw a flash of metal where Shores had been standing. Pouring more energy into his horn, Marjoram finally lit up the street well enough to see a knife levitating midair, dark green magic holding it in place. Marjoram’s eyes scanned nearby, keeping half an eye on the knife. No magical auras that he could see- The knife moved, and Marjoram flung a blast of energy at it, causing it to abandon Shores. Shores stood, using her wings to throw her bulging saddlebags to the ground. Eyes wide, she shot into the air. “I’ll get help!” Marjoram shot the dagger with more magic, keeping the attention on him. All he had to do was hold off long enough for help to arrive. Guards were patrolling, and there should be some nearby. Marjoram could do this. Marjoram conjured a shield, the knife glancing harmlessly off of it. Marjoram tried to stay still but the knife was moving around, clearly trying to keep Marjoram moving. Terrified and frustrated, Marjoram let a wave of magical force out. His breath wheezed in and out, and Marjoram was struggling to keep a coughing fit at bay. If he went down now, he was done for. There! A magical aura, dim but visible. Now Marjoram could see a figure in the shadows, he could tell there was a hat beside the pony: Marjoram had knocked the hat off with the magic. That had been why there wasn’t any sign of an aura earlier. A piercing line of pain arced across Marjoram’s flank, and his left hind leg almost buckled. Spinning again, Marjoram finally yanked the knife out of the control of the attacker. Turning around, Marjoram saw metal glint again and he jerked back reflexively. Not quickly enough, the second knife carved a line down his neck, catching his mane and doing Creators-only-knows what kind of damage. Tears streaming down his cheeks, vision blurred, body ready to give up in spite of the adrenaline, Marjoram’s focus locked on the only spot he could see: the figure’s head. Heart pounding, lungs threatening to spasm, Marjoram sent the knife towards the weak point Megan had told him about so many years ago: the poll of the head. Behind the ears was a weak spot, and Marjoram utilized it. Marjoram plunged the knife down, squeezing his eyes shut in the same second. He heard the other knife fall, and let his magic let go of the dagger when the murderer started to fall. Marjoram tried to move away, panic and bile rising to the back of his throat. His body had other ideas, he collapsed onto the street, crying and gagging as he did. A memory surfaced, from years ago, and Marjoram couldn’t help but force himself to replay it. “Remember, Marjoram. If you ever need to defend yourself, there is a quick way to bring ponies down. Make an X between ears and eyes, center crossing location is where to hit somepony; just remember, don’t do it too hard. Hitting somepony here can kill them if you hit hard enough. Whatever you do, don’t hit the poll of somepony’s head, okay? Had a colt in here who reared up and smacked a beam too hard not too long ago. He died instantly.”** Then, what he had done finally reached him. Marjoram had killed somepony. It was self-defense, but-that didn’t matter. Creators, what-what did I just do? Distantly, Marjoram could feel the blood pouring down his neck and down the opposite flank, but Marjoram didn’t care. Bile rose in the back of his throat, and Marjoram puked. The surge of adrenaline had Marjoram trembling, but he didn’t notice. His sides were heaving for breath, and he was soaked with sweat, the blood and sweat pooling around his prone form. He could still see the outline of the murderer, splayed out on the ground. He could see it. Could anypony else? He was the only one here, right? Shores landed nearby hard and fast, sending dust and dirt everywhere with how hard her impact was. She was panicked, and angry, and he saw her expression change when she saw him. She galloped over, stopping when she saw his vacant stare. Following his line of sight, she gasped. She took a step back, her legs folding underneath her, and gagged. Then, the guards arrived. All of them, from the look of things. There were so many ponies, and there was noise, and dust, and Marjoram’s heart was beating louder and louder- His lungs rebelled. The fit was violent, and painful. New tears streamed down his cheeks, and Marjoram curled in on himself. Struggling for air, a new bloom of pain caused him to double over. Blood splattered the grass, and Marjoram was struggling to stay conscious, even with all the noise around him. A wing wrapped around his barrel, and Marjoram felt a familiar warmth settle in beside him. The wing was a comforting presence, but everything still felt wrong. His vision swimming, tasting iron on his tongue, Marjoram was glad when he fell unconscious.