//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 - The Threshold 
// Story: The Shroud of Manehattan 
// by Violet Mist 
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Philip was standing in front of the seaport warehouse when I arrived a bit late, but it didn’t matter to the case. After all, I was allowed the opportunity to work at the pace I desired, as it was my case to solve.

I still wanted to get it done as soon as I could, though.

“So this is the place?” I asked as I approached. My friend and colleague noticeably jumped, startled, as I came from behind, though it was subtle and he quickly recovered.

“Yep, that’s right, Dennis… it’s a beauty, too.” He replied sarcastically, gazing up at the old structure. I won’t deny, it was enormous; the front of the place probably stood about 40 feet high, good enough for about 4 stories of factory workers, and measured 150 feet in length. However, a combination of wood, bricks, and steel that was required to make this warehouse had taken a toll on the building, forcing it to be abandoned years ago. The gray early morning hours didn’t exactly shower it in beauty either... the whole thing was very sad. I rolled my eyes in response to this statement and started trotting up to the door.

“Yeah, every damn inch of it speaks to me like a beautiful mare on a Sunday afternoon…” I responded as I passed him, also in a sarcastic tone. I swear I could hear the creak of the place and see it sway while I approached the lock on the door. The lock that was meant to keep workers and naive teenagers from entering. “I expect it to be all locked up, yeah?”

Philip trotted behind me and he took a look at the thing that stopped us from entering. My friend was a certified code breaker; he was known throughout the department as somepony you could rely on to get inside a place you weren’t supposed to be inside of. Everywhere he went, it seemed like he brought along an assortment of devices that could’ve been used as lockpicks or even explosives to bust open an entryway. That’s why his presence came in handy in this situation.

“...I’ll see what I can do. Worst case scenario is that I’ll have to blow through the door, which could alert any ponies inside of our arrival… we wouldn’t want that to happen, Dennis.” Philip explained, kneeling down and looking through his saddlebag. I peeked over his shoulder as he took out many of the things previously mentioned, including a stick of dynamite and a lighter. For a moment I thought he was actually going to use it despite his own say so, but it was clear that he was just taking it out in order to get to the bottom of the bag. A few seconds later, my partner was digging his lockpick into the lock seen in front of him, twisting and turning, trying his best to get it to go. I guess this is a good time to set the scene.

As stated before, it was yet another overcast day in Manehattan. It had been just a few days since I was assigned the case, and I hadn’t seen the sun since. It was as if all the color was sapped from this world, and all that remained was a grayscale universe in which I lived and worked in. But, at the same time, it was as if nothing had changed at all. Mares and stallions look at me the same way, and everypony else goes along their day like it’s nothing. Perhaps the case had created such a draft in my mind that was only unique to me. Nevertheless, it was an odd occasion.

I heard the lock click and the door open, followed by a successful grunt from my partner. Immediately once I saw a crack in the door, I switched on my flashlight and shined through it. Philip slowly opened the door all the way. As it turned out, I didn’t need my flashlight; the gray light from outside shined plenty through some of the broken windows of the warehouse, revealing a long, narrow, and blank room that stood in front of us. It worked like any other warehouse I had been to, and I knew warehouses; I used to visit them almost daily with my mother when my father was a storage officer. And even though this wasn’t the actual warehouse my father worked at, I still gained a sense of familiarity with the place, almost like I never left…

But maybe that was because every warehouse was virtually the same.

I stepped in first, and my partner followed me once he put his lockpick back in his saddlebag. Despite the light that was apparent in the building, it was erratic in some darker locations, so I always had my flashlight equipped and illuminating the place. The faint yellow glow that came from it could be seen as far away as the back of the room… and that was a long way for a room that was about 40 feet long. The door shut quietly behind us, and here we were.

Hopefully, we would be alone inside an abandoned warehouse. This is an ideal situation for just about everyone in the police force. But we should’ve known this is never a good situation to be in, because you’re almost never alone. Anywhere.





“Hey, Dennis. Check this out.”

I was on the complete other side of the same room we had spent the last 30 minutes in. It was mostly just snooping around through some of the things that scattered the floor. Some old photographs we found in a folder dated back to 1943, during the Second Great Pony War. We even uncovered some old boots, including a pair with separate photographs of a mare and a young child, likely a wife without a husband and a kid without a father nowadays, considering the nature of this place. Being a worker in these hellhouses always seemed rough to me… and the stallion who owned these boots was certainly a victim. A very tragic thought to keep in mind, especially considering the fact that he left a young family.

I trotted over to my partner, making sure not to step on any loose nails and such, before looking at what he was pointing his flashlight at. It was…

A purse. Leaning against one of the walls.

“...oh. How terribly important.” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. I should’ve known Philip was going to joke around in this serious investigation, which is why I immediately regretted bringing him along to study this address. I was about to turn away and check out another part of the room when he tapped me on the shin, sighing.

“Don’t you want to see what’s inside? If it’s an old purse, the guy’s probably dead by now. He won’t care. If not, though…” Philip trailed off, raising an eyebrow. I nodded.

“...then we get a lead.” I finished, already grabbing the purse. The brown leather certainly didn’t feel old in my hooves; there was no dust whatsoever, no signs of age or deterioration. This had to be a potential lead, another thing to boost our ongoing investigation. After a deep breath, I opened the bag, my partner looking over my shoulder, silent, as he should be.

The first thing I encountered was an aerosol spray can coated in red, and honestly I wanted nothing to do with what was inside. It was very likely the can was to spray some kind of liquid drug with the purpose of sedating another pony or worse, blinding them completely. I shivered and gave the can to Philip, hoping he wouldn’t use its entire purpose and drug himself. “Why don’t you give it a little whiff, Phil? See what it is.”

I proceeded through the purse, mostly taking out useless items like a handkerchief, and… eyeshadow. 

Interesting.

“Eugh… this shit’s chloroform, Dennis…” Philip groaned from behind me, gagging and putting the can on the floor. “I know it is, but… it smells a bit different. More putrid, bitter… you know?”

I nodded half-heartedly, examining the eyeshadow. It was a familiar type, a sky blue. And, now that I thought about it a little more, this purse was familiar as well, as if I saw it only a few days ago…

Suddenly, there were some hoofsteps approaching from the other side of the locked door, so I quickly rejuvenated my instincts and dove behind a broken desk. Philip did the same, sliding behind some crumbled cinder blocks. I shuddered as I heard the old steel door creak open, a long, whining sound emitting from it. My skin was crawling, my heart beating quickly. I was sure that, whoever was behind that door, they had bad intentions. Usually dangerous ponies resided in abandoned places, hence why the city puts up signs restricting ponies access to those areas. Still, it was impossible to prevent ponies from getting in.

The hoofsteps echoed through the room for a bit, getting closer to where my partner and I were hiding. I looked over at him, as he was several feet away. His expression was the same; a still, frozen face of shock and fear at the same time. This pony could easily blow our heads off if he found us, so it was crucial that we stayed quiet for as long as we could.

They suddenly stopped moving, and there was some ruffling and scraping of metal against the ground as the pony murdered something under their breath.

It was a female voice. I could tell.

My heart was pounding in my chest. It was one of the only things I could hear at the moment, along with some shuffling sounds from this mare in the room. I slowly moved myself over, turning my attention towards the complete other side of the desk. From here, I noticed a small hole that was punched into the old desk. I didn’t even want to know what caused that.

The hole was barely enough to see through, but I got by just fine. I just needed to see who was here, exactly… and where they were going afterwards.

I couldn’t make out any features in the dim room as I looked through the hole and at the source of the ruckus, however I was able to see the mare picking up the purse that we were just looking through and throwing it over her shoulder. I could see her form spin as she glanced around the quiet room, as if she heard or saw something in here, before walking over towards the door she came from.

Since her back was turned, I took this opportunity to peer at her from behind the broken desk, trying to see exactly who this mare was while she walked through the light emitting from the windows. Of course I saw the purse, but I was also able to see it resting against a pale dainty body. Her hoofsteps echoed through the room as she walked away from our hiding spots, so it was making it more difficult to see her in the light. However, I caught a glimpse of the curly burgundy hair that slung over her left shoulder, and by then I had a solid idea of who I was looking at. It was a mare I had met just a couple of days ago, but I couldn’t remember her name...

She suddenly stopped in front of the open doorway, and I sensed what she was about to do. I transitioned from the edge of the desk back to the tiny hole where I could make out her facial features right as she looked back to study the room. It was dead silent as I continued to analyze her appearance. I was fairly certain who it was.

And her strong purple eyes confirmed it.

What in Equestria was Charlene Smart doing in this warehouse? Especially since there were likely very dangerous ponies here?

Charlene shrugged and looked forward once again, stepping through the doorway. Philip and I stayed behind our hiding places until we heard some kind of confirmation she was gone, and that came in the form of the door locking and her hooves fading away. As soon as I heard absolutely nothing, I let out a long sigh of relief and leaned against the worn desk that had maybe saved my life. When I glanced over at Philip, he was slowly getting to his hooves again, breathing heavily.

He should know that you can still breathe when hiding, I thought to myself with a chuckle. My partner looked towards me and wore a questioning expression.

“What’s so funny?” His question.

“Nothing.” My reply.

Enough jokes aside, Philip and I headed over to where the purse was. There was absolutely nothing left, almost like it was never there in the first place. The things we put on the ground, upright, was a terrible mistake, as it alerted the mare to our presence. Somehow, some way, she didn’t look through the room to find us. But she probably knew we were there, just because of that mishap.

I sighed and ran a hoof through my dirty mane, glancing at the empty spot where the purse once was, and the closed door where Charlene departed through. We had to press forward if it meant continuing our investigation, since there was nothing else here for us. We got confirmation that somepony was here, and there may have been more. Now we just needed to understand what they were up to.

I trotted towards the door and bravely opened it. It led to a dimly lit, cramped hallway that extended for at least 20 feet towards another door that looked exactly the same as the one I just opened. Before I stepped through the doorway, I looked to my partner, who reluctantly followed me inside. We were immersing ourselves in a dangerous situation.

I don’t blame him for being worried.

Philip trailed behind me as I walked through the hallway. The amount of light that touched our coats was slim. Rusted pipes surrounded us and created a drowsy environment overall. It was disgusting yet I became used to it after a while. After all, my father literally forced me to come to his work at times. He didn’t care about how revolting everything was. Or the conditions he surrounded himself in, which he obviously shunned as it ended up being his demise.

I remember the day with an absurd amount of detail. The morning my father died, I was 11, riding my bicycle through my outer Manehattan neighborhood, tossing the day’s paper left and right. When I came home, my mother was a mess. She told me everything. She told me about the roof collapse, the deathly condition of the warehouse in the first place. She told me that the stallion who had helped my mother give birth to me was dead.

Of course I cared for my old man. I loved him like any son would for a father. But I didn’t shed a single tear that day. Why would I? The only times we had ever bonded or even seen each other was when he would bring me to work or show up at home late and drunk. But, he was a good stallion. There are times where I miss him. Most of the time I feel indifferent, however.

Philip and I reached the door on the other side of the hallway and I turned the rusted handle ever so slowly. The door opening created a loud, obnoxious screech that permeated through this newer, smaller room we found ourselves in. However, it was difficult to tell exactly how big it was, because it was incredibly dark and musty. I coughed slightly and activated the flashlight I had used to explore the previous room, its light providing a narrow escape from the darkness of the space. I swallowed my growing fear and stepped forward, my front hoof touching the cold, concrete ground below.

I briskly made my way through the room, letting the flashlight guide my way throughout. I was relieved to hear Philip following close behind, and since I didn’t want him to get lost in here, I glanced back at him several times, just in case.

It turned out that the room was far larger than I had initially imagined. We must have been walking on solid, empty ground for at least a minute, without the aid of the windows, since there were none. Soon after reaching a wall at the far end of the room, we were able to locate the door, which was noticeably significantly smaller than the previous two we walked through. I assumed we were in an older part of the warehouse and I placed my hoof where the handle would be.

Except, there was no handle.

Where is the handle?, I thought to myself.

Philip noticed my struggles and checked the rest of the door before shrugging and backing away a bit. He was clueless, and so was I. Nevertheless, I continued to search, hoping to find something that could lead us further on our investigation. It couldn’t end here, not now.

Eventually, I realized something. Upon further inspection of the cracks of the door, I discovered that it wasn’t a door at all. It was just a thick slab of wood designed to look like a door, as it definitely was blocking some kind of opening in the wall. Philip must have realized this at the same time I did, as we both nodded to each other and ran shoulder-first into the wood.

At first, I thought our effort was in vain, but our teamwork and strength was enough to completely knock over the slab. It landed on the ground with a loud, hollow thud, but since it was apparent there was nopony around us, it was okay. Still, I wanted to retain some sort of silence for the rest of our sneaking, so we kept quiet as we stepped through the narrow opening and into a world of darkness and mystery.

This was the threshold. We had just crossed it.