//------------------------------// // The One Who Eats the Tail Pt 1 // Story: These City Walls // by KitsuneRisu //------------------------------// CHAPTER 2: Through the highland and the dale Beware [The One Who Eats the Tail] If you fight You'll suffer blight If you run you'll surely fail One way lies to an escape - Do not steal nor falsehoods make suffer not the craven plot Of rotten herdlings for their sake All good colts and fillies be just like fog and mist to he You will find the true and kind through his grasp they shall run free Mares and stallions, too, must heed This one rule, your daily creed - Never part mind from heart And He Who Eats shall be defeat - Excerpt: 'Ancient Equestrian Cautionary Rhymes and Tales' Circa Unknown In the life of a pony, mare or stallion, there comes a time when one simply looks at something and immediately discards it as an impossibility. Be it an impossible action, or an unbelievable feat of physical prowess, our breaths are taken away by the breaking of the rules of life as we know it. It is at this point when we refuse to believe, as creeping doubt encroaches upon our thoughts, or we blame our senses for this faulty input. Sometimes it's even harder to accept what is in front of our eyes if we are looking through a hazy fog caused by one too many alcoholic beverages. But for Duriandal, her senses usually do not lie. She had a certain level of trust with her senses, being to her like old friends, and when they told her a tale of questionable reality, she was more inclined to figure that reality must be the one at fault. This is why, when she saw the figure of a certain Pegasus fly overhead, she immediately came to the conclusion that something very wrong was happening, indeed. Best to talk to somepony about this. Best to talk to somepony. ,---(*< ~---, '---------------'   "Hey man, cut me a little slack?" came the muffled inquisition of the pony that lay on the ground. Night Flare lay, trussed up like a turkey, on the hard rocky ground of the pavement that cut through the park. Around her, a wide open space of grass was irregularly sprinkled with trees and bushes; the general atmosphere only interrupted by a small children's playground that was placed rather neatly in the middle of a sandbox. Of course, there wasn't really any point in looking around much, since only the lamps that walked hand in hand with the path gave any sort of light, overshadowing the moon. "Be quiet, you," came the gruff reply. Sergeant Canary tapped her hoof impatiently, awaiting the arrival of Quick Silver and her cart. Far behind her, Berry was scrambling around worriedly, although it wasn't too clear if she was more worried about the situation or the fact that all those lovely cupcakes were strewn about the general landscape like some kind of artistic piece. "Whaddabout my rights, copper?" "You have the right to not annoy me. Anything you say can and will result in a hoof up your a..." She was cut short by a general noise behind her, one that signalled the arrival of the cart and all the necessary equipment. "Hey boss," said Silver, hauling the cart alongside. "Where'd ya wan' I shou' set down?" "Over there, by the trees. Stay out of the pavement if you can," Canary instructed, to which Silver set about her general duties. "Alright," she said to the figure on the floor, who was currently flopping around like a crab on fire. "You're going to take a quick trip to impound, alright?" "I didn't do nothing!" Flare repeated, for the umpteenth time. "Yeah? We'll find that out later, won't we?" "You can't arrest me on that!" "You're being arrested for running away when I very quite nicely told you not to," Canary stated. "Besides, you are essentially covered in blood, and you touched the body. You'd have to go in anyway." "Alright, alright, I'll be nice. Just let me loose, please. I have gravel in my mouth!" she pleaded. "Sorry, you kinda used up your free pass," Canary replied, turning to leave. "Don't worry, the flight will be really quick." Berry was studying the scene as Canary whistled sharply, and she immediately appeared by her side. "Ma'am?" "Help me with this, Berry." Together, with minimal effort, they hoisted the flailing Night Flare up into the air and floated her toward the cart, setting her down in the back amongst all the equipment. There, they started to remove specific items from the back and place them on the floor. It was but a simple command that Silver took off again with the prisoner in tow, hoisting her back to the station for a quick processing and some time in the holding cell. And really, that was it. It was just the dull procession of things that happened anytime you had to make an arrest. Canary didn't enjoy it. If anything, it served to reinforce her current hatred and contempt for ponies, and that only served to extend her bitterness to the world that she lived in. In the end, it all came down to this. Berry had argued many a time with Canary about the goodness and hope and love of ponykind, but the proof was in the pudding, and the pudding was now in the form of the second dead body they had come across in under a week. The opposition was found lacking of a comeback. Before the coroner arrived, however, there was time to survey the scene and perform some due diligence. "In this weather, too," muttered Canary. It was cold; natural for the time of night, but there was a killing frost that crept around and chewed on her bones. "Ok, let's go, Berry." "Right Sarge. So while you were busy with the runner, I had a look around." She walked around the corpse, giving it a wide berth. She was weary and tired, so much so that the natural bounce in her step had worn off and she delivered her report with less flair than usual. "This time it's a Unicorn, Sarge. No identification, but we can get that back at the station. Like the first body, it seems that she was dropped out of the sky onto that other pony, and it seemed quite deliberate from what we saw." "Yeah. Looked like." "It isn't clear if the body was meant to land that close to the runner, but I think we can assume that she was meant to see it at least." "At least," repeated Canary, equally as worn out. "Um... I dunno, sarge," came Berry's usual mantra, something she said out of habit whenever she was still in the process of gathering her thoughts. "The coroner'd have to determine if the fall was the cause of death or not, but from the looks of it, it seems pretty similar to the original." "Same blood pattern?" "Yeah, Sarge. A lot less than normal, and no tracks. Some dripping coming in from the West, so we know she was bleeding as she came in." "Let's remember that. We need to get someone to see if we can trace it to the source, maybe find out where the initial attack was committed." "Right, Sarge. Probably can get Silver on it. Anyway, there's nothing much else except that this time we were here to see the drop." "Alright," Canary said, starting to kick her brain into gear. Her mind was like an engine; and sometimes in the cold it wouldn't start without a bit of persuasion. "Oh, and this one thing, Sarge." Berry came to a stop on the far end of the body, standing over a small paper bag. "This seems odd." "What's that, Berry?" "It looks like a bag, Sarge," she pointed out with all obviousness. "I think it was dropped along with the body." "What makes you say that? Couldn't it just be a bit of trash?" "Well, it's got a spot of blood on it, Sarge." "So does the pavement, Be..." "Nah, Sarge, I mean... if you look at it, it doesn't look like a drop, Sarge. It looks like a line, like it was stretched." "Couldn't it have fallen onto the bag and just trickled down?" Canary asked, walking over to inspect the bag herself. "Well... I reckon... I reckon, Sarge, that if it came down from that high, it'd look like if you dropped a pie, because one time, I dropped a pie from the third storey of a building, and it went splat, and went all over." "What?" "But one time, I tripped and accidentally spilt my ice cream on the wall, and it sort of just stuck there and dribbled down slowly." "Berry, are we still talking about the bag?" "Yeah Sarge! What I mean is... this blood looks like it was spilt onto the bag from really up close and then dribbled down." Somehow, in all those food analogies, there was some kind of sense being made, regardless of the strange subject matter. Maybe this was just how Berry thought of things. Either way... "Not bad, Berry. That's some good thinking," Canary rewarded her. "Really, Sarge?" "Yeah, except... I don't think it dribbled down, I think it may have dribbled to the side." "What do you mean, Sarge?" "What I mean is that... if you were a Pegasus, and you were somehow able to carry and fly off a dead body... how would you carry it?" "I dunno, Sarge. Probably on my back or something?" "And where would you carry a bag?" "In my mouth, Sarge?" "So if the bag is in front of the body..." "... there wouldn't be any blood on it," Berry finished. "Exactly. Meaning the bag was behind the body, and a stray drop of blood hit it in midair as it was being flown... and the blood streaked in the wind, sideways." "That'd be pretty hard for a Pegasus to do, Sarge." "That'd be pretty hard for one Pegasus to do." "Oh... OH!" Berry perked up at the sudden realisation. "You're saying..." "Two Pegasus ponies. Yep. At least." "Well... that... that is just brilliant, Sarge!" "No, it really isn't," Canary said bitterly. It was brilliant when one invents fire. It was brilliant when Princess Celestia comes up with a new spell that serves to aid ponykind. It was brilliant when the flowers bloomed every Spring. It wasn't brilliant when one had to make a distinction by stopping ponies from killing each other. It was just sad and pathetic. "Well... I think so." "If you say so. Anyway, we'll have to mark the bag for processing, and we can't touch it until Silver gets here to take pictures first. What else is there?" "Well, I don't see anything else, Sarge, but it's pretty dark out. Maybe we should set up the flood lights?" "Yeah, we'll do that. Also, I want to see if anyone actually saw those Pegasus ponies flying overhead. Maybe we can find a witness or something." "Might be hard, Sarge. Don't think there'd be ponies out this late at night. We do have the one witness at the station already." "Don't think she saw it coming, though." "Nah, might not have, Sarge." "Well, let's just hope we can find somepony, just one single pony, that might have seen something." ,---(*< ~---, '---------------'   "What do you mean you saw something?" asked Blitz. There was a tone of concern in her voice, but that was mainly because she didn't really intend on finding Duriandal lying face-down in the middle of the street outside the club. Either she had finally embraced social standards or they had rejected her entirely. Whichever it was, it was hard to tell because they generally both led you to the same result. "What I mean is that I have seen something that I wasn't intending on seeing," whispered Duriandal. She had long since stopped trying to stand up, and had found it more comforting to curl up against the wall and hope the nice bouncers kept the bad things away from her. "Ok, Duri, calm down. I'm here, ok? What did you see?" "It was that... thing again." "That thing?" Blitz sounded alarmed. "That thing that we saw back at your house?" "Yes! That thing! Why is it here, Blitz? Why?" her quavering voice reached a frantic pitch that might have drowned out the thumping beat of the music that came through the wall of the club. "Why is it following me?!" It probably wasn't going to help, but Blitz took a nervous look around anyway. It was just something that ponies did when you feel like danger is around. Not as if they could really do anything about it if that thing just happened to stroll up and tip his hat at them. "Uh... are you sure it was... the same thing?" "Yes, it had the eyes, Blitz. It was definitely the same!" "Did you see anything else?" "No. It was dark. But those eyes... are unforgettable, would you not agree?" "Yes. Quite so," muttered Blitz. Truthfully, they were the only things that she could remember; that and that odd smile. Given Duriandal's abilities of recollection, the chances that she could be wrong were slim. "Why, Blitz? You said it would be safe, but it is not!" "I'm... I'm sorry, Duri. You're right. I shouldn't have made assumptions," she tried to defuse the situation. "Let's go straight to the police, alright?" "I would like that." "What... what are you doing out here, anyway?" she had to ask, as she lent a wing to Duriandal to help get her back to her hooves. "I thought you would be in the club." "I was. But I had met a pony who was very nice although a bit frightening at the start and she bought me a few drinks and she had to go home so we both walked out and then I felt strange and decided to have a sit down and then I saw that... that thing." "Ok, dear, I know you're stressed out, but you're going a mile a minute again." Duriandal repeated herself, slowly. "Well, at least the evening didn't go that badly, right?" Blitz said, attempting to cheer the little green pony up. "Sounds like you made a new friend. That's two for two now." Duriandal remained quiet as she wobbled a bit on her legs. "Alright, look, I don't know where the station is, so you're going to have to lead me. But we'll go together, and we'll go there now. You feeling ok to walk?" "Yes, Blitz. Thank you for your concern." And at a hasty clip, they began their way toward safer harbours, stepping past a small drop of blood that was left unnoticed by everypony around. ,---(*< ~---, '---------------' The light shed itself onto the scene, with four large poles hoisting them up at each corner of the grounds of the incident. It made things a little clearer, although there wasn't much else to see outside of the finer details of the things they had already found. Silver had returned, having left Night Flare at the station's lockup, with the coroner in tow, who looked extremely cheerful to have two midnight details in a row. "Hi, Mister Bowler!" greeted Berry, as he jumped off the cart and shook himself awake. "Eeeh, whatever," he said, going straight toward the body. Berry smiled. "Silver, do us a favour and do some groundwork? Leave the camera with Berry. There seems to be a blood trail from here to who-knows-where. See if you can somehow follow it to the source." "Oooh, gimmie!" said Berry, yanking the camera off the cradle that sat mounted around Silver's neck. She really loved her gadgets. "Aye boss. Ey, take good care'a that, Rebs," she said as she started panning the ground. "Yes, Corporal!" she affirmed, Floating the camera around every-which way. "Ok, Berry, go ahead and run the scene so that Bowler can get started." Coroner Bowler, who was already a grumpy old fella as it was, was standing aside wearing an impatient look that was as close as possible to the equivalent of crossing one's arms. It was only after Berry took the first fifty or so shots from every conceivable angle that he just walked in on her to start checking the body. Berry then decided to move onto the bag and all of the cupcakes in individual and group shots. Well, Canary didn't have a problem with that. At least she was thorough. Anyway, as soon as those cupcakes hit the ground they were part of evidence. Processing them... would be interesting. She was pondering how easy it would be to find blood trace on a cupcake wrapper when Berry stood herself next to Mr. Bowler, awaiting his prognosis, and the temperature suddenly dropped another few degrees. "We still doing this?" asked Mr. Bowler, jerking his head toward the grinning Berry. "Yeah, yeah. Cut her some slack, ok, doc? Everypony starts out at the bottom of the barrel." "Didn't know the barrel had basement levels, Canary," he replied, eyes glued on the body as he worked. "Come on, Doc," she bargained, eyes running over Berry. She wasn't upset or even bothered in any way. She just simply... accepted it as part of the job. It was quite a thing, really. To Berry, it was part of being at the lowest rank in the force. She wondered if her views of it would change if she knew there were other factors involved. "Fine, fine," grumbled the coroner. "Anyway, come over here and have a look. Both of you." "Whadda we got, doc?" "Yes, what do we have, Mister Bowler?" asked Berry, politely. The coroner shook his head and went on. "Basics. Unicorn pony, late teens to early adulthood, orange coat, red mane, mark of... two Autumn leaves, overlapping." Berry dutifully took down notes to check back at the station. "Lack of livor mortis suggests that she died very recently," Bowler continued. "Although just like the first one, she's lost quite a lot of blood and it might be throwing off the lividity." "How'd she lose blood?" Canary asked, for both of them. "Incision in the neck. Very precise and clean, no signs of struggling, but the wound's pretty thick. I don't know what caused it, but it's probably something fairly large. There's some curving around the edges that suggests that the tip was sharp but the rest of it was not." "... Like a horn, doc?" asked Berry. "Not that thick. It's still an incision, not a puncture wound." "Alright, doc." "Oh, and it's on the back of the neck, not the front. She probably lost most of her blood from there, but it didn't hit anything important, so she didn't immediately die from shock and blood loss." "Would it be safe to say that she died upon contact with the ground?" asked Canary. "Safe enough. Same thing as the first, too. Either dropped from high enough for it to achieve near terminal velocity, or it was thrown. Either she died on contact, or she died extremely shortly before." "I... have a question doc," stated Berry. "What?" "If she hadn't lost all that blood... would she have survived the fall?" "Fair enough. There really isn't a clear answer. If she were very lucky she might avoid injuries to survive another two minutes maybe. But essentially this isn't the kind of thing you get up and walk away from." "What are you thinking, Berry?" "I'm thinking... about pies and signs, Sarge." "What the hay is she talking about n..." Bowler started to ask. "Go on, Berry?" Canary encouraged. "Well, it's like what I was saying earlier about the pie going splat, Sarge." "Uh... huh?" Canary rolled her leg in the air. "Uh... if you wanted to destroy a pie, there's many ways to do it. You could stick a fork in it and just mess it about and spill all the cherry filling on the ground, and that'd be that. But..." Berry considered. "If you'd already messed up the pie, why would you go throw it off a cliff as well?" "This is the part where she starts to make sense, doc," Canary reassured the annoyed coroner. "So if she was already going to die, and if you were a killer, why would you want to fly up so high to drop them again? I... I don't think I understand that part, because in the first place it's really hard to fly around carrying a body, and now you want to get high enough to do this kind of damage... it's like throwing a messed-up pie off a cliff. It's... it's pie overkill." "Pie... overkill," the coroner mouthed the words to himself. "She has a point, doc." "Yes, yes she does, but still. Pie overkill." "Anyway, yes. It doesn't really tally up," continued Canary. "That and... I was remembering two days ago, you said about how these kinds of people don't wanna be caught, so there must be something really important about flying them out and dropping them on people's heads." "Well, either that or..." "Or, Sarge?" "... Or they don't care if they're seen." The wind picked up, as if to reinforce the dramatic levels of that statement, rustling the leaves and causing a few cupcakes to shift in place. "There's two more things that I want to check out before we head back," stated Canary. "Berry, could you go and bag all the loose items?" She quickly made off to the cart to get the plastic baggies that they used to collect evidence. "Alright Doc, two things. Firstly. All this while we've been assuming this death's related to the one last night. Did you find any strange odd signs?" "Nope. Not this time." "Didn't think so. This might complicate things." "What was the other thing?" "Alright," she stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Listen, I know you don't like her. Not many ponies do." "What's this about, Canary?" "Just hear me, alright? When I first met her, I didn't like her either. I hated her. She's got a funny way of seeing things and she definitely doesn't strike anyone as the right pony for this job. But this job isn't the most typical one in Equestria, is it? She's just handling it the way she does, and I'm not asking you to like her, but I'm asking you, as a favour, to just go easy on her, ok?" The coroner snorted. "When did you get a heart, Canary?" "Took a while. Took a while. But look at us. We're not the most cheerful of ponies, and I know how aggravating it is to be around somepony who's so happy all the time that it looks like she doesn't take the job seriously. But trust me. She's genuine, she's smart, and she's on top of things. So piss you off she may, but don't take it out on her just because her method of dealing with the manure we run into every day is different than yours or mine." There was a little awkward staredown, as Bowler rolled the words around a little, seeing how it tasted, before he finally gave a slow nod. "Alright, Canary. Alright." "Thank you." "I just hope you're right about her." "I'm not wrong yet." They both watched as the bright red ball bounced from item to item, scooping them up and securing them tightly in the plastic baggies. She looked to them as a child picking her jacks up off the floor after an enthusiastic play session. There was something just... simply unacceptable about her. She was like a clown at a funeral. Even if she wasn't necessarily doing anything upsetting, there was a certain level of inappropriateness about it, and it looked really weird. But then you learn that the clown was a dear close friend of the deceased and wore the outfit to celebrate their first meeting 30 years ago, and suddenly it doesn't seem that bad after all. Still looks weird though. She was just about to seal up the final bag when Canary interrupted her. "Hey, don't close that one just yet. Bring it over here!" she shouted to Berry. And she obliged, carrying over the open bag-in-a-bag, a hail of plastic-wrapped cupcakes dancing around her head as she came. "Before we went back, I wanted to see this," she said, prying the brown paper bag apart and peering inside. What was inside made her eyes widen to quite an impressive degree. "Berry... is that what I think it is?" She shuffled over as Berry strained to take a look, nearly knocking heads with Canary. "I... think so, Sarge." "Well, this makes things... a little interesting." "Sure does, Sarge." "I think it's time we go back to the station to ask some questions, don't you?" ,---(*< ~---, '---------------'   Panic is a funny thing. Panic makes you do things that you normally wouldn't do, and it makes you think things that you normally wouldn't think. This is why, when a body flew out of the sky and landed in a messy pile just off to the side of her, Night Flare's first reaction was to just stand there staring at it without breathing. And then when somepony started to yell at her, she just decided that running might be a prudent act, considering the circumstances. On the way over to the station, she considered the fact that maybe it wasn't that smart after all. Panic also makes you discount the immediately urgent. Panic decided to put a block on her mind back then, because there was just so many things to panic about, and panic felt that if anything was worth worrying about, it might as well be the immediate concern. It made her babble for freedom and clamour for release. She was being arrested, something that, in on itself, was quite daunting in the first place, let alone for the reason of murder. She did not paint that picture of The Willing Participant that she had hoped for, and was regretting it immensely as her face scraped against the cold, scratchy wooden flooring. This is usually why she didn't count on herself in most situations of urgency - because they ended up with her hog-tied and uncomfortable at the back of somepony's cart. The next fifteen minutes went by as a sort of a dizzy spell as she was brought off the cart, dragged into the station, had her details taken down by someone with way too much facial hair, and then thrown into a cell. They wouldn't listen to your pleas of innocence. They wouldn't listen to your offers of peaceful cooperation. You now have a police record. They took your clothing, your purse, your belongings, and threw you into a cold dark hole. Night Flare, what have you gotten yourself into? Actually, it really wasn't very cold or dark. There was central heating, so it was quite cozy, and all the lights were on, so it was quite bright in there. If anything, the plain white brick walls were a bit monotonous, and those bars simply had to go, darling. There was no view to speak of, either. The bars faced another wall on the other side of a narrow corridor that led down the length of the cage; one end blocked off by another wall and the other leading back to the police station's main floor. It was a small thing, and had all your full facilities including a hard stone bed, a way-too-public toilet and one of those kinds of windows that didn't open. To look on the positive side, it was like bunking in the restroom of a gas station, but it smelt better and there were no stains. Yes, it's much better that way. The more you pile up the denial, the more padding you'll have when you need to face reality. She wasn't doing very well, though. Another thing she was quite thankful for was the lack of cell-mates. She really didn't need to be placed in the same area as a huge smelly stallion or some young punk from the city. What she needed, really, was to get out, oh yes, if they'd let her out that would be really, really nice, and then they could just go on and forget about the whole thing and have a laugh and a crumpet and joke about it in the months to come. "He...hello?" Her voice echoed off the walls and the floor, creating a hollow sound inside her head and ears, as if the world had forgotten about her. "Helllllooooo....?" she tried again, this time a bit longer, and a little less nervous. "What?" said a pony who walked in suddenly. He was wearing a hat, and one of those leg band thingies that she saw them wear. She didn't know what the three bendy stripes meant, but she figured it must be three of something, which means this pony here was at least two more than the lowest rank. At least. I think. "Oh, officer. Thank Colt. There's... been some kind of mistake here..." she said, trying to put on as innocent of a smile as she could. The policepony just stared at her. "Do you know," he said, after a while. "Do you know how many times I've heard that?" "Um... I... a lot?" "No, actually, you're the first one." "I... uh... what?" "I don't think anypony else thought a line like that would actually work." He gave a little shrug. "Well first time for everything, I suppose," he mumbled as he walked back. "Wait, officer!" Night Flare threw herself against the cold iron bars. "Yeeeeees?" he said, turning around again. "Uh... how long am I going to be in here?" "I don't know, it depends." "Depends on what?" "On if you're guilty or not." "Noooo! I... I didn't do anything!" she wailed, kicking a leg out of the cell. "Ha ha. Just kidding. Relax, Peg. Look, to tell you the truth, I really have no idea how long you're going to be waiting. The guy in charge of the case has to come back to give you a rundown, so I'd say it depends on how long they're going to take out there, and how much of a mess you made while you were doing your crime." "It wasn't that much of a mess!" Flare blurted out. "So you admit you committed a crime?" "No! NO! I didn't comm... I mean... there wasn't... I mean..." "Ha ha. Just kidding. Relax, Peg. Quit bothering me, alright?" he jibed, leaving the hall. Night Flare hung off the intersection of the bars like a marionette hung up to dry. Her eyes had become watery and her bones started to ache, like an old mare's in the rain. She felt a heavy sleep come to her, knocking on the door of her mind and begging for entry. It was the kind of sleep that came when there was just nothing left to do, and both thoughts and body decided to just shut down for a while and rest, because there's going to be a mighty long bit of worrying to do later on in the day. Her eyelids closed as she slumped against the metal rods, slipping down further and further and taking escape in some sweet release... A huge clanging noise jolted her awake, suddenly, giving her such a shock that her heart rate jumped from a two digit number to three. "Aaaahhhhh!" she yelped, stumbling back and landing hard on her rear. "... glass of water?" asked the same guard, with a perfectly stoic face. Next to him floated a police baton, which he had just used to ring Flare's alarm bell. "W... what?" she clutched her hoof to her chest to stop it from exploding. "Would you like a glass of water?" A cup floated in and balanced itself on the same divider bar that Flare herself was hanging off a while ago. "I got one for you. Enjoy." He left again. Why were they treating her this way? She wondered hard as she ignored the water and shuffled back to the far corner, away from the bars. I thought they were the good guys. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? What about that welfare stuff that she was supposed to have? Oh Colt, you know what, she was feeling a bit thirsty. She could go for a sip of water maybe. Maybe. She didn't know. It was unnerving when going for a cup was a hard decision. She scrabbled to her hooves, making her way slowly toward the cup of water, as if the floor was made of sand and each step only took her deeper into the ground. "Heeeey, how are you holding up?" that same smiling face, the one that she now started to hate, popped out from around the corner. She froze. "Just here to collect the cup back," he said, grabbing it off the cell door and floating it away. "Aw, didn't have any? Guess you're not thirsty, huh?" "No... no, please, just..." "Check in with you later, kid!" he said cheerfully, walking off with the glass of water. Oh my Colt, she was shaking by this point. Shuddering from a mix of really strange emotions that came from all directions. She felt like she was one of those toys that you can knock down and it'll right itself up again, and she was getting knocked down over and over and over. She didn't think she could handle any more of that "Hey hey," he said, appearing once again. "Don't worry. I see that look on your face, and I know what you're thinking, and, don't worry. I got good news." A large oversized keyring with a dozen keys floated up toward the lock. "We're letting you out." "R... really?" she cried, the first good news she had all night, and the best news she had in months, relatively. "Yep!" The key entered the lock. "No joking?" "Nope!" The lock gave a satisfying and resounding click as the key turned. "I can go?" "Nope!" The door slid open. "But... you said..." "I said we're letting you out. Not 'we're letting you go'. Sergeant Canary is back, and she's got some questions for you." Her smile drooped. "Come with me please, miss," the officer led her into the interrogation room, just as Canary passed her in the hall. "All set, Canary," the other Sergeant said to her, when Flare was safely locked in the room. "You prepped her?" "Yeah, little bit." "Hey, thanks a lot, 'Spiv." "No problem, but you're the ass next time, ok?" "Yeah, yeah. Owe you one, man," she replied, jokingly. "I don't like being the good cop anyway." "If you say so, Canary," the pony smiled back. "Anyway, could you help Berry with the processing? And let her take lead on it. She's got a lot of interesting ideas about this one." "Hey, not a problem," he said, heading off to do important evidence stuff. On the other side of the door, it wasn't any different than the last time Canary had been in there. It was another pony who seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, but in this circumstance, there was a little bit more involvement than Twilight Sparkle had, and they needed to run her through the wringer regardless. She was just as frightened, given the circumstances, and keeping her on edge had a specific purpose. Canary smiled at her as she entered from behind Flare. "Hi there, Miss... Flare?" she read from a clipboard she brought in with her. "Y... yes?" "Don't worry," Canary smiled again. "Please, get comfortable at the table." The table was as it usually was, with the lamp, but this time it had two cups and a pitcher of water placed ever so nicely upon it, along with the paper bag that was found at the crime scene. "Oh, and help yourself to the water," Canary said off-hoofedly, flipping through the sheets in front of her for show, and pouring them both a full glass at the same time. "It's... ok?" Flare asked. "... of course." Canary gave a look of bemusement, as if the question was absurd. A few more looks were exchanged before Flare downed the entire glass in one gulp, satiating that burning desire to just swallow something. "Alright, let's begin then," Canary said, refilling the glass and placing the clipboard with the blank sheets face-down on the table. They faced each other for a while, in silence, Canary looking relaxed, smiling and shaking her head to herself once every so often, as if she were making a judgement with each one, as she simply examined the pony in front of her. The seconds each fell down one by one, ticking the time away, as each second burrowed its way into Flare's mind. "I didn't do it!" she finally shouted, unable to take it any longer. "Do what?" asked Canary. "Whatever it is you're accusing me of!" "Then how do you know that there's anything to be guilty of?" "Ok, ok, now see, I know your little games, right? Stop... stop twisting my words around and stuff!" Flare demanded, in a frantic state. "You're right, I'm sorry," apologized Canary, taking off her hat and putting it on the table, as calm as ever. "We needn't do that." "Um..." that had caught her slightly off guard. "Tell you what, why don't you tell me what happened, then?" "I... I was coming home from the club... Le Pouze? I was just hanging out and decided to go to the park to relax a bit, right? And then suddenly as I was walking I hear this funny noise from above, right? Then I turn around and all of a sudden this big huge thing comes right at me, and I jumped out of the way and it missed me by this much, and I dunno... I didn't know what it was at first, but then I kinda realised it was like... another pony, and I got freaked out, and then someone started yelling at me and I... well... I panicked, ok? So I tried to fly off but... well, that stupid cop caught me with some kinda funky magic and arrested me." "Well," said Canary. "I'll be sure to have a talk with that stupid cop later." "Yeah... yeah... look, I know it's bad, but I really had nothing to do with it, ok? I just... I just wanna go home." "Where's that?" "Home? Cloudsdale." "And what brought you to Canterlot?" "Nothing, really... I come here a lot. It's like a second home to me." "So you know the place really well?" "Yeah, pretty well. I mean, I know all the public spots and stuff, but don't ask me for directions or anything." "Mmm," Canary hummed, nodding again. "So, you just want to go home?" "Well, yeah." "Don't you at all care about the poor girl who died next to you tonight?" "She... she's dead?" "Oh, yes. Very much so. Did you not know?" "... no." replied Flare, softly, sweetly. Her eyes started to wander around her head, darting irregularly at some invisible thing to the right of her hooves. "I... I thought she fell or something... or it was some drunk ponies doing something silly. I know she... got hurt, but... I didn't..." "Take it easy. If you didn't do it, you don't have anything to worry about, right?" "But... that poor pony... this is a trick, right? It's... one of your cop tricks?" "No trick ma'am." Canary slid some photos out from under the sheets of paper, the only thing of real importance hiding in the clipboard, as she spread them out in front of Flare. "Oh... oh my colt..." she muttered, holding a hoof to her mouth, and looking away. "Do you know the pony in these photographs?" "No... no, I don't." "Maybe you should look a bit closer..." "No... really, I don't know her." She was holding her breath. "Alright," Canary shuffled the photos away; Flare's reaction thus far telling her more than she needed to know. "I'm sorry you had to see that." "It's... it's ok," murmured Flare, disengaging her vision and letting it fade. It felt better that way. "What... what happened, officer?" "Call me Canary. And we don't know. We were hoping that you did." "I wish I could help you, officer Canary." "Well, if you would be willing to just answer a few more questions?" "Yes, yes, of course," Flare was hasty to agree. "You said that you went to Le Pouze. That's not very near the park, is it?" "No, it takes me about half an hour to walk there." "Why wouldn't you fly? You're a Pegasus, as it can be clearly seen." "Well... sometimes... sometimes I don't fly if I don't need to. Just because I have wings I don't... really... think I need to fly everywhere." "Oh?" "It's... just something I've always felt. That... if I walk more, I'll appreciate being able to fly all the more, too." "That's a very mature way to think of things." "Oh... thanks," Flare gave a nervous laugh. "I... ah... I've always thought this way." "Why were you going to the park that night?" "Well it was... nearly midnight, I think. I can't really remember. And I just spent the night with this rather odd pony, right? But I had to get away from the noise and just relax in the quiet, and the park's one of my usual places to do that. It's just nice and peaceful and full of fresh air, so I just figured I'd head there." "Wait, hold up. You said you spent the night with an odd pony?" "Yeah, oh, no. I know what you think, but I don't think she had anything to do with this." "Well, just in case, maybe you could elaborate for me?" "Yeah... she was like... this crazy weird pony, you know? Total klutz," she frowned, trying to recall specifics. "I think she was one of those... waddayacall 'em... socially inept types? I bought her a couple of drinks. I think someone dropped her there as a joke or something, to see what'd happen. Yeah... she was really weird but I don't think she's a killer or nothing. She had this wicked memory though." "Wait, what?" Canary suddenly perked up. "Yeah, like... get this, she memorized the menu in like two seconds, but could not pick up that the bartender was hitting on her for half an..." "Was she green?" "Yea... yeah, she was." "Spiky hair?" "Yeah... you know her?" "What was her cutie mark?" "I dunno... it was pretty dark. Some kind of bottle or something?" It was Canary's turn to start to look for phantom shadows in the corner. "Flare. I'm going to ask you some questions now, that you should be very sure before answering, alright?" "Al...alright. Am I in trouble?" "Not... exactly. I can't tell you the details, but... tell me. This pony that you met. Did she give you a name?" "Yeah, it was du... durin... something? Duriandal, that's right." "And... before tonight, you had never met before? Never even seen her before?" "Not that I remember." She shrugged. "Have you ever been to her store in HoneyLane Avenue?" "Never been to HoneyLane." "Alright, Flare?" Canary finally brought the innocent paper bag toward her, opening it up and removing a small round object. "Have you ever seen this before?" Canary set the cloud puffer down on the middle of the table. It, by all means, was as they had seen them, infesting the stores of two days ago. This one looked damaged in the fall, and had a long piece of string sticking out the top of it. "That..." "This." "Yes. Yes I have seen this before," said Night Flare, nodding at Canary.