"Belle," said Thunderhoof, making for the door to his office. "I'm taking a few days off."
"Alright," answered Belle, narrowly suppressing a 'sir'. "Should I tell this one that they should wait?"
"What was that?" asked Thunderhoof, as he was about to enter his office.
"This one arrived in the hearth just a few minutes after you left," said Belle, holding a piece of paper in her magic grasp. She levitated it towards Thunderhoof, who took it with his wing.
It was a piece of non-whitened paper that complied with the government's new 'clean paper act'.
Unfolding it, Thunderhoof realized that it bore the symbol of the Special Court for Kudanda. Some hurriedly-written words had been scrawled on the paper, which read 'Hoofington Club. 10 PM tonight. Urgent'.
"Vague," remarked Thunderhoof. "I like that." He had received such messages in the past, asking him to meet someone in a public place. He usually ignored them, because he didn't like ponies who didn't at least take an appointment. But the presence of the SCK's symbol on the sheet told him that the mare or stallion who had sent it was probably somepony of importance. And important ponies often coughed up colossal amounts of bits for private eye services. Plus, one of his friends from uni was a judge in the SCK. He couldn't possibly refuse.
"So, are you still taking some time off?" asked Belle.
"Yes," answered Thunderhoof. "Just not right now."
Thunderhoof was standing next to the entrance to the club, eying his pocket watch. The small arm was on the nine, the big on the fifty eight. The sweep hand was relentlessly ticking forwards, invading the last ten seconds before the minute hand marched on fifty nine. The second was like an air cavalry pegasus, dropping a bomb on an enemy foxhole before soaring away to let the minute army march forward and invade the position. And just like that, fifty eight became fifty nine.
"One minute to drop off."
Thunderhoof closed his eyes, and counted the seconds.
An airship, soaring through the skies, with Thunderhoof sitting in the bay, where the ice-cold wind would infiltrate his pegatrooper suit, at an altitude so high that he needed a mask to breathe. One minute to mentally prepare. One minute of everything at once. Doubt, certainty, regret, impatience, fear, and courage. A soldier's minute.
"CAVOK. Opening rear hatch."
The cargo bay would slowly open, revealing the morning sun that would burn Thunderhoof's iris.
"Thirty seconds to drop off. Move to the rear."
Standing on the edge, ready to jump out into the unknown. The icyness reaching its very peak.
"Ten seconds. Nine. Eight..."
Heart pounding against the ribs.
"Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
Breathe in.
"Status all green. Clear for drop off."
Breathe out.
"Spread your wings and fly, Celestia be with you!"
Thunderhoof abruptly opened his eyes, heart pounding, wings spread. "Let's do this." He entered the club, just in time to see Hoofington disappear from the stage. Thunderhoof realized where he was, rested his wings, and cleared his throat, calmly, hoping that no-one had noticed him.
"This way, sir," said a waiter, wearing his pearl-white tuxedo. Thunderhoof trotted behind the stallion, who led him behind the tables to the private parlours. He opened the door and stepped aside to let Thunderhoof in.
An aged unicorn mare with a pale blond mane and a light-brown coat and wearing a tartan jacket, was sitting at the table, back to the door. In front of her was a pot of Zebrican coffee and two cups.
"Major Thunderhoof," said the mare as the Pegasus stallion entered. "Please, have a seat."
"Alright," answered Thunderhoof, making his way around the table, and sitting down. He recognized the mare in front of him, but didn't say a word. Sitting in front of him was Canta del Pronto, the prosecutor of the Special Court for Kudanda.
"I suppose you know who I am, Major," said the mare, taking her glasses off, and wiping them with a handkerchief.
"I do," responded Thunderhoof. "But... what should I call you?"
" 'Mrs Pronto' will be fine, Major," instructed the mare.
"Very well," said Thunderhoof. "Please, just call me Thunderhoof."
"I insist, Major," said Mrs Pronto. "Coffee?" she asked, levitating the pot.
"No thanks," answered Thunderhoof. "I don't really like coffee."
"I thought they loaded you Expeditionaries with pots full of it, whenever you went anywhere. To keep you alert, and whatnot."
"I never really took it up," retorted the investigator. "You could say that it was all... stimulating enough."
At that point, a waiter came in, holding a platter with Thunderhoof's usual. He placed the glass of gin on the table and left.
"I see," said Canta, taking a sip of coffee, her beady eyes not leaving Thunderhoof. When she'd taken her sip, she replaced her cup, and got a file from the bag at her hooves. Opening it, she began reading. "Major Thunderhoof Sparklemoore Mountague Butterscotch," she read. "Joined the Equestrian Army at age fifteen. Attended the Royal Military Academy of Saddlehurst, Trottingham. Upon receiving commission, integrated the Provost Services, Military Police."
"My parents wanted me to join," explained Thunderhoof. "It's tradition to enlist at least one child in the military. I wanted to be a hoofsoldier, but they wanted me to be far away from the front lines. So, we compromised, and before long, I was a Redhoof."
"Barely one year after joining," continued Canta, "asked to attend re-training. Light infantry, Grenadier Guards. After that, Pegarescue Corps, Vanhoover division. And finally, hoof-picked to enter the Royal Pathfinders."
"First in, last out," said Thunderhoof, repeating the Royal Rangers' motto.
"Star of Valour, Second Class; Celestia Cross; Luna Cross and bar; Distinguished Service Cross and bar; Air Gallantry Medal; Conspicuous Galantry Cross; Distinguished Service Medal; Cadance Gallantry Medal; Order of Merit, First Class; three red hearts and operational medals for Kudanda, the Badlands emergency, Second Saddle Arabian Revolt, Griffonstone Crisis, and the San Palomino Siege."
"Will you be getting to a point in the near future, or should I order another gin?" asked Thunderhoof.
"Why are you trying to hide from these honours, Major?" asked Canta, putting the file down. "Celestia knows, as evidenced by the fact that she awarded you her cross, that you've deserved them."
"If you say so," said Thunderhoof. "But really, why did you ask me to come?"
"I want to hire you, Major," answered Canta.
"Oh?"
"Yes." The prosecutor levitated another file, and plonked it in front of the private eye. "This is Poppy Heart." She magically flicked a few pages, and landed on a picture of a black Earth Pony stallion with brown eyes, a buzzcut mane, and an extremely grizzled look. "Ex-REF servicepony, turned mercenary."
"Let me guess," said Thunderhoof. "War criminal?"
"If you recall, the Kudu hired quite a lot of mercenaries during the war," explained Canta. "Griffons, Diamond Dogs, Ponies, Ibex... Basically anything with four working legs and a lust for blood."
Thunderhoof indeed recall the sight of the 'mercenaries'. He'd seen them commit any crime you could think of: murder, torture, even rape. He had a spasm in his right foreleg as he thought of it. "So why him?" he asked, in a voice of utter disgust.
"Poppy Heart was different," said the prosecutor. "When he left the army, he kept in touch with the High Command through his old CO, Shining Armor. Whenever he had information worth sharing, he'd sell it to us. One day, we received a letter from him, informing us that he was in service of the Kudandan government, and that he could share troop movements and the like with us. He saved a lot of lives."
"Deserves a medal," said Thunderhoof.
"He got state money," retorted Canta, in an icy tone. "We don't owe him anything else. Back to the matter at hand, he had a running assignment during the war, which was to take pictures of Kudu crimes, so they could be used in a court."
"Alright," said Thunderhoof. "Where did it go wrong?"
Canta adopted a tactful tone. "Do you remember... Pundaville?" she asked, very carefully.
The effect that this name had on Thunderhoof was unbearable. Though he remained cool on the outside, he could feel his outrage, his disgust, and his sadness boiling up inside of him, the outrage like a platoon of guardponies marching in unison up his ribcage, the sadness playing the fife and drum, and his disgust cheering the platoon as it marched on.
"Yes," he answered, in a calm voice. "Yes, I remember Pundaville."
"Well, we lost contact with Poppy just after Pundaville." Canta said the name without really saying it, almost as if she was eating her own words. "All the captured Kudu we interrogated only referred to him as 'traitor Poppy'. So, obviously, his cover had been blown. We assumed he was dead, and officially pronounced him as such. Now, brace yourself, because this is going to get somewhat complicated. Ready?"
"Ready," answered Thunderhoof.
"Good. About a week ago, I sent word to the Zebrican Border Authority that I was looking for Poppy Heart. I sent them a picture and a description. Just a few hours later, they replied, telling me that such a pony had taken a low-class ship to Manehattan. I pinged the Manehattan train station, who told me he'd taken a cheap train ticket to Canterlot. I pinged Canterlot, but nothing so far. So he's here to stay, at least for a while."
"So, why don't you notify the Canterlot Police Service?" asked Thunderhoof. "Or the... train bobbies, or whatever they're called."
"Because," answered Canta, "He's taking low-class transport across Equestria and keeping a low profile, he obviously doesn't want to be found, meaning that someone may be after him. And if he's holding sensitive documents, Celestia only knows what he would do with them if he was cornered."
"Right," said Thunderhoof. "And you want me to find him."
"Correct," answered Canta. "Will you take the case?"
"I thought it was against PECP1 policy to hire private contractors," remarked Thunderhoof.
"Oh, but I'm not paying you with state money," said Canta. "After all, it isn't the PECP who're hiring you. I am. One hundred thousand bits, payable upon delivery."
Thunderhoof's eyes widened in shock. "Canta Del Pronto is hiring me to track down an asset, and paying me with her own money. She's even more virtuous than I thought."
"Very well," said Thunderhoof, gathering the file and tucking it under his wing. "I'll take the case."
Canta Del Pronto smiled. "Good. When you find him, escort him to the nearest police station. Once you've done so, contact me." She gave a business card to Thunderhoof.
And without further ado, Thunderhoof left the building.
EQUESTRIAN INTELLIGENCE COMMUNITY
FILE NO.4575- POPPY HEART
Legal information:
Full Name: Poppy Heart Griever.
Also Known as: 'Buckpop' (REF nickname); 'Deathwish' (Professional name as mercenary).
Occuptation(s): Mercenary, hired asset of the Crown, former servicepony in the REF.
Place of birth: Manehattan, North-Eastern Equestria
Residence: N/A
Family: Gray Griever (Father) (deceased); Heart Flower (Mother) (Deceased); Solemn Griever (Brother) (Deceased); Rose Griever (Sister).
Biological information:
Species: Earth Pony (M-Pegasus F-Earth Pony).
Sex: Male.
Mane: Dark brown.
Coat: Jet black.
Height: 5 ft 3.
Cutie mark: three white spears in triangular formation.
Military career
Service/branch: Equestrian Earth Army
Unit: 51st infantry regiment (Coldriver Guards) of the Royal Expeditionary Force.
Serial Number: 652090
Rank: Colour Sergeant.
Distinctions/Awards: Luna Cross; Cadance Gallantry Medal; Saddle Arabian Campaign Medal (Mentioned in Despatches).
General information
Poppy Heart Griever (a.k.a Poppy Heart), after both his parents and his brother were killed in a rock-climbing accident, joined the EUP guard to provide for his sister, Rose Griever, who was lodged at the EUP barracks in Manehattan. When his sister was old enough to go to university (payed for by Poppy), Poppy left the army to become a mercenary, exchanging information for bits.
Poppy Heart proved himself to be a very useful asset during the Kuduandan War. He was hired by the Kudu self-proclaimed government as a mercenary commander, and has therefore been able to give us information on enemy troop movement. He requires large amounts of pay, deposited in his bank account at the Pants Bank in Canterlot. (P45FJU523QL, in the name of 'Dandelion Blackwell').
We haven't heard of him since the Pundaville Massacre. He is presumed to be dead.
"I'll be going home, now, if you don't mind," said Belle, as her boss read the file again and again. She noticed that he had actually bothered to put his glasses on to read, meaning that this case was important, somehow.
"You do that," answered Thunderhoof, not looking up from the dossier. "I'm staying here. Leave the light on. Also, I'm not sure I like the state of your desk. Be sure to clean it up."
"Yes, sir," said Belle meekly, before leaving.
Thunderhoof sighed as he took off his round glasses, and served himself three feathers of Rye from his decanter. He started thinking in silence about where to start looking for Poppy as he sipped the whiskey. It said in the file that Poppy was officially homeless. But it also said that he had a bank account at the Pants Banking firm. A respectable bank such as that one surely asked for their clients' addresses. So that was where he'd start, tomorrow morning. He put the dossier into his saddlebag, the saddlebag on his back, and left the office, almost forgetting to turn off the light as he went.
There was some commotion at the end of the street when Thunderhoof exited the building to go home. A large group of ponies was gathered at Blueblood park, where a stage seemed to have been erected. Intrigued, the private investigator went towards the demonstration. There were two policecolts just across the street from the event, who seemed to be observing the scene with intent.
"What's going on?" asked Thunderhoof as he approached the policecolts, recognizing them as the two evening beat cops: Prowling Eye and Sneaky Muzzle.
"Demonstration," answered the brownish one, Prowler Eye. "Equalists."
"We're just watching out for any violence," continued Sneaky Muzzle. "Youngsters, mostly. College students."
Thunderhoof listened to the mare of the hour, who was standing atop her soapbox, addressing the crowd.
"Listen to the voice of Cutiemarx!" she bellowed like a tyrant. "The Equestrian Government, after unlawfully invading Kudanda, has now imposed its laws upon her peoples! Celestia and her laquee, the pony we refer to as Whinnston Chestnut, are using the pretext of defending the innocent to expand its borders, and exploit yet another race!"
The ponies all cheered, and Thunderhoof decided he'd heard enough. Such insolence and idiocy made his blood boil. "I'm going in," said Thunderhoof, determined. "Prowler, Sneaky."
"Take it easy, Thunder," said Sneaky, as Thunderhoof marched towards the crowd.