//------------------------------// // Chapter 14: Loyalty // Story: Pronoia/Paranoia // by TooShyShy //------------------------------// Twilight had never thought about the end of her career. Eventually she would leave the force, as did most officers once they reached a certain age. Maybe once this chapter in her life finally closed, she'd refocus on that promising career as a professor she'd turned down all those years ago. Anything was possible. Once the streets were completely clean, Twilight would have no reason to stay. The last thing she expected was to be transferred. The last thing she wanted was to be called into her superior's office on a rainy day and given the worst news of her career. She'd taken it with little comment, practically shrugging it off. It was only later—drinking with Spike—that she confessed her true feelings. The sense of betrayal was almost too much for her. But somehow Twilight drank it all away, drowning everything she'd ever loved in booze. Spike had to carry her home that night. Her superior thought Twilight needed a break. An actual break. She said Twilight was working herself to death, that Twilight needed to get away. This job was supposed to hurt, it was supposed to take things away and give certain things back. But the work—just the bare work—wasn't supposed to kill a pony. If death came at all, it came in the form of an arrow to the head or a knife to the throat. But Twilight was working herself into an early grave, or so her superior insisted. Twilight had been insulted. She respected her boss, but she couldn't believe the nonsense she was hearing. Working herself too hard? How ridiculous. So what if Twilight pulled a few all-nighters? That was normal. So what if she sometimes didn't sleep for weeks on end? So what if she'd collapsed from pure exhaustion that one time? Well, it was more than once. Twilight had lost count, especially as it had been happening more and more recently. But so what? She was passionate about her job. Why was she being punished for loving her work? Utterly ludicrous. Twilight nearly laughed at the irony. Ponyville was supposed to be quiet. It was supposed to be safe. Yet it had become neither of those things. Just by going there, Twilight had awakened long-forgotten sins. Maybe this was her curse. Interviewing Cadence over the phone felt wrong, but Twilight was also somewhat relieved by the arrangement. She'd interviewed grieving spouses and even interrogated fillies and colts. But somehow she wasn't willing to put Cadence's life under the lens, even if Cadence wasn't a suspect. She knew her resolve would break if they talked face-to-face. She was surprised when Cadence called her so soon after the conversation with Moondancer. Had Cadence been eager to call or was Twilight reading too much into it? “I hope you weren't doing anything important,” said Cadence. Twilight placed the crow mask on her bedside table. Having gotten over the re-emergence of an old fear, she'd been examining it. It was an impressive piece of work, although throughly creepy. The craftsmanship was superb. Probably made in Manehattan. Likely a special order, as she'd surmised before. Something like this wouldn't be just casually hanging in a window. Would it be easy to trace? Unlikely. Manehattan was a big place. Dozens of ponies were ordering masks like this every day. Theater groups bought them in bulk. Then Twilight had realized. Theater groups. Theater. Manehatten. Bronze Hoof. There had to be something there, right? Obscured by the more obvious facts of the case, but there. Now that Twilight had started moving things around, an idea was emerging. Or at least an idea had been emerging until Cadence suddenly called her. “No, nothing,” said Twilight. She jumped right in, unwilling to let the conversation waver. She had a thousand questions about how Cadence was doing. Had she developed any new hobbies? Had she kept in touch with any of her old friends? Did she still go to that donut place ever so often? Was she alright or did she feel as if she needed Twilight's company? But Twilight knew this wasn't about satisfying her guilt. This was supposed to be professional. “So your wedding ring was stolen?” she said. Cadence said nothing for what felt like several minutes. She seemed to be weighing the information in her head, but Twilight couldn't figure out why. Although Cadence hadn't been in love with the written word, she'd always been an intelligent pony. She always seemed to know what to say in any given situation, her calm nurturing tone a constant comfort. Falling out of contact with her had deprived Twilight of something she didn't even know she needed. At last, Cadence spoke. Her voice was quiet and quaking with fear, as if she was barely keeping herself together. Twilight had never heard Cadence sound so unlike herself. There had been an incident many years ago, back when Twilight was a filly. The incident had involved a break-in, or at least what Twilight mistook for a break-in. She'd been convinced that somepony was in the house. Normally collected in tense situations, Cadence's desire to protect Twilight had briefly overridden her rational mind. She'd gone into a panic, caught between calling the police and getting Twilight out of the house. Fortunately, a search of the house revealed no signs of an intruder. It had been Twilight's overactive imagination again. But Twilight never forgot the look of terror in Cadence's eyes and how her voice shook. “I don't know what to do,” said Cadence. It was at that moment that Twilight's detachment crumbled. She'd known Cadence for years. They'd more or less grown up together. They were family. These were undeniable facts, truths Twilight could no longer ignore for the sake of the investigation. But this wasn't the Cadence who'd read Twilight fairytales before bed. Cadence had always known what to do, even if she'd seemed lost in the moment. “They'll find it,” said Twilight. “Moondancer knows what she's doing.” Cadence was silent for a few seconds, then she suddenly spoke in a rushed tone. “I should have called you,” she said. “I'm not sure why I didn't. But it happened so long ago and I didn't want to bother you.” Confused and beginning to fill with dread, Twilight hesitated. “What happened?” she said. “Cadence, what's going on?” Another long silence, this one more crushing than the last. Twilight wanted her question answered, but a part of her also wanted to remain blissfully innocent. This wasn't how she'd expected their reunion to turn out. It wasn't even a reunion, at least not in the traditional sense. But the deeper Twilight went into this investigation, the more she came to realize that nothing was ever going to be the same. The relationships she'd built were in the past, their components rearranged into some hideous mockery of closeness. Twilight was never going to reconnect with Cadence, at least not in the same way. Perhaps the same went for Spike and those she'd left behind in Canterlot. “Somepony was following me,” said Cadence. Twilight said nothing, but Cadence needed no prompting. She'd been eager to talk about it, to finally get it off her chest. It felt like passing on an enormous burden. “It happened half a year ago,” said Cadence. “At first I thought I was imagining it. But I kept seeing them out of the corner of my eye. I thought about calling the police, but I wasn't sure what to tell them. I didn't have any evidence. Not at first anyway.” She paused. The next part seemed to be more difficult for her. She was clearly hesitant to say it, as if she worried that Twilight wouldn't believe her. But that was foolish. Twilight would have believed almost anything Cadence said, regardless of context. “I started taking a camera with me everywhere,” said Cadence. “I wanted to get a picture of them to prove I hadn't lost my mind. It took a few weeks, but I finally managed to get a clear photograph of the pony following me. I caught their reflection in a shop window.” She took a deep breath. Her voice was no longer shaking, but the fear hadn't completely disappeared. “They were wearing a mask,” said Cadence. “A crow mask.” She let out a shaky sigh. “They disappeared after I took the picture,” she said. “I didn't see them again, so I think they stopped following me.” Twilight opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but nothing came out. So the masked pony had been following Cadence. But why? Did they just want Cadence to see them, for her to feel threatened? That did seem like something the masked pony would do. But to what end? What was their ultimate goal? Paranoia. The word jumped into Twilight's head, sending her brain reeling. Yes, this masked pony clearly wanted Twilight and Cadence afraid and vulnerable. They reveled in it. But why? It had to be personal. Something Cadence, Twilight, and Shining had done together. A wrong that demanded punishment. But what could that be? Was there a wrongdoing that connected the three of them, a shared lapse of judgment or fatal mistake? Twilight furrowed her brow. No, she was being far too logical. Too simplistic and limiting. Had she put many ponies behind bars during her career? Yes. Had she made mistakes, had she been indirectly responsible for tragedies? Yes. Did these errors warrant retaliation? On a smaller scale, anypony effected by Twilight's mistakes could easily come to this conclusion. But ultimately that was too rational. Twilight wasn't dealing with a sane mind. A brilliant and calculated one to be sure, but a pony whose vision of reality was ever so slightly skewed and their idea of justice warped. This wasn't about any of Twilight's previous cases. There was something going on behind the scenes, something emotional that Twilight was failing to understand. “Twilight?” She jumped. She'd completely forgotten that Cadence was still on the line. Twilight had been standing there for a good three or four minutes, just staring at the wall and pondering. As much she wanted to get back to that, there was something else on her mind. “How exactly did you notice your ring was missing?” said Twilight. This was crossing a line, but she no longer cared. Twilight had been an officer for years and she'd never once broken the rules, had never been put on probation, had never been temporarily relieved of her duties. But this wasn't about the station in Canterlot or even the one in Ponyville. Twilight was willing to accept any punishment, even a stern lecture over meddling in a case that didn't involve her. “I keep it in a glass case near my bed,” said Cadence. “Sometimes I take it out and look at it. Not very often, but sometimes. This time I noticed something was off.” Twilight's heart was racing. “A fake?” she said. She started reevaluating her earlier theory. Maybe the masked pony was working alone. Feverish in their devotion and determined, but working alone. This gave Twilight a little hope. “An incredibly good one,” said Cadence. “I should have noticed sooner.” She sounded defeated. It seemed she'd already given up on the police finding her ring. This wasn't unreasonable. The longer an item was missing, the less likely the police were to ever find it. There had been some infamous exceptions—such as the chest of jewelry that was found several years after the culprits vanished into thin air—but these were notable outliers. Historically, the station in Canterlot was shit-awful at finding missing items after they'd been gone for more than twenty-four hours. Twilight's mind was racing. How could she reassure Cadence without giving away everything? Strictly speaking, she wasn't allowed to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation with somepony not directly involved. But even without that rule, Twilight would have been hesitant. She felt personally responsible for keeping Cadence as far away from all of this as possible. Cadence had already gotten a taste of the masked pony's nature and it had clearly unsettled her. How could Twilight live with herself if she pulled Cadence deeper into the abyss? Unfortunately, Cadence had already sensed that something was going on. She'd always been so perceptive of others' emotions, especially when it came to Twilight and Shining Armor. “Twilight, what in Celestia's name is going on?” she said. Sighing in defeat, Twilight reluctantly told Cadence everything. She started with Bronze Hoof's body, then moved on to the mysterious first note and everything that had come afterward. The events sounded even more horrific when spoken aloud. Nothing Twilight was describing sounded real, but her rigid sincerity made it clear that she wasn't exaggerating. She also couldn't stop her voice from trembling as she described her experience in that abandoned building. It hadn't struck her as particularly terrifying at the time, but now her emotions were catching up with her. The irrational and unbridled anger that had overtaken her before, the rush of pure animosity that had caused her to destroy that mannequin, had merely been masking the horror she felt. Now it was all out there, plain and unrelenting. A part of her wanted to ask Cadence for advice. But how could Cadence be expected to offer anything helpful? This wasn't a sprained hoof or a school bully. Cadence had been a truly amazing foalsitter, a gift to brighten up Twilight's young life. But Twilight was no longer a foal and Cadence was no longer her sitter. Their dynamic had changed and Cadence had somehow become one of the least important aspects of Twilight's life. Cadence was silent for several minutes. Twilight couldn't blame her. If she'd been on the receiving end of this story, Twilight would have been equally speechless. “Explosives in an abandoned building?” said Cadence. That wasn't what Twilight expected Cadence to take from all of that, but at least it was easier for her to respond to this simple concern. “I disabled them before I left,” she said. There was a short pause before Cadence spoke again. “No, that's not what I meant,” she said. “Twilight, are you sure you should keep going? It sounds like the masked pony really wants to kill you.” Twilight started to correct Cadence, to tell her that it was the opposite. But she stopped, her heart sinking as the realization washed over her. What if the masked pony did want to kill her? She'd dismissed the idea before, secure in her assessment of the masked pony's goals. But goals could change. Or perhaps the roots weren't the only parts of the tree Twilight should have been looking at. There were branches right above her head, some of them reaching towards the indifferent sky. Paths and possibilities, all connected to the same wooden base. The masked pony had become more generous lately, more open and less cryptic. They were trying to tell her a story. But why now? Why not in the beginning? Was it simply the thrill of dragging this out, of forcing Twilight to wait for each reveal? Or was it merely because this little game was drawing to a close? Except a game like this couldn't truly end, could it? No, Twilight wouldn't stop just because the masked pony withdrew. She'd follow this to the ends of Equestria, pursuing the very idea of the masked pony until she finally found them. She'd spend the rest of her life searching if she had to, she'd make deals, she'd bargain, she'd tear Equestria apart. Nopony could disappear forever. Nopony could hide from Twilight's keen eye. But there was one other way to put an end to this. A way for the masked pony to escape, for Twilight to never find the truth, for this game to reach a single damning conclusion. The grand finale. Twilight's prison. Her final case. The end the masked pony thought she deserved. The cell she would rot in for all of eternity. Her soul unfulfilled, the truth inches from Twilight's hooves. She'd never be at peace. “I'm sorry, Cadence,” said Twilight. Cadence sounded puzzled. “Sorry about what?” she said. Twilight considered her words carefully. “I should have contacted you,” she said. “You were struggling and I abandoned you. I know you don't blame me, but I also know I have no excuse for my behavior.” Cadence sounded even more puzzled, perhaps a little frightened. “I forgive you,” she said. “But why are you saying this? What's happening? Twilight?” Twilight had a lot of regrets. But at that moment, she realized her biggest one was Cadence. Not the Cherry Blush incident or the circumstances of Shining Armor's untimely demise, but Cadence. Out of everypony in this situation, Cadence was the most innocent. She'd done nothing wrong, yet Twilight had pushed her away during a time in which they were both grieving. While she couldn't entirely condemn her own actions, Twilight still felt awful about it. It didn't have to be this way. But somewhere along the line, she'd completely lost any semblance of that bright-eyed foal who'd ridden on Cadence's back and made up silly nursery rhymes with her big brother. “I'll be fine,” said Twilight. “Please take care of yourself.” She hung up without a goodbye. She instantly felt bad about that, wondering if she should call back. But however terrible she felt about the abrupt end of the conversation, the moment had already passed. Twilight didn't think she could stand hearing Cadence's voice again. At the very least, she'd patched some holes. She'd said the words that had been living inside of her for years. Twilight started packing her saddlebags. There were only two hotels in town, both tourist traps intended for the few souls unlucky enough to stop in Ponyville. Neither had much to offer except general hospitality and ridiculously cheap rooms. But that was fine. No matter what, Twilight was not going to stay at Fluttershy's cottage. She hadn't realized it at the time, but the sight of Fluttershy's terrified face had deeply effected her. Consequences. She'd been ignoring them, playing the part of the detached investigator. But as the playing field shifted again, Twilight realized she could no longer do that. The crow mask was enough to confirm Twilight's fears. The playing field had changed. There was no way she could know for sure, but it seemed the most likely explanation. Twilight was no longer being challenged. She was being hunted.