I stare at the mirror on the opposite side of the wall. A black-eyed, yellow pegasus with a fucked up blue mane stares back at me. I stick my tongue at whoever’s on the other side and cross my hooves.
I haven’t been in an interrogation room for over a month now. And here I thought I was on a good streak. Fucking deputies thought otherwise, I guess. I grunt, tapping my hoof on the metal table impatiently.
“Any fucking day now!” I shout out. There’s no response, as is per fucking usual with these guys. I roll my eyes and sigh, leaning back in my chair and staring up at the ceiling. Could be worse. At least I’m not hoofcuffed to the table this time.
Wonder where Twitch went. She’s got some sort of deal with the cops, so they usually don’t give her a rough time. Myself on the other hoof… yeah, can’t say I like working with pigs. But hey, money’s money, I guess.
The door finally opens, and two deputies stroll on in. The first’s a yellow earth pony wearing a brown stetson hat, and the second’s a young looking buffalo. Both are wearing the standard-issue brown jackets trademarked by the Marshal’s Office.
“Howdy,” says the hatted stallion. “I’m Deputy Braeburn, and this is Deputy Strongheart.” He flips through some papers in his binder. “You’re Raindrops?”
“Go by Killjoy,” I reply automatically.
Braeburn nods. “Reckon Ah can respect that. We had a few questions for you regarding Fading Light.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think I know about that?”
“Well, a fella named Dogma had a lot of things to say about you. How’s that eye, by the way? You don’t gotta be a detective to tell you’ve got a nice shiner goin’ on there.”
Shit. Sounds like they know what I did to him. “Look, he deserved it, alright?”
“We’re not arguing that,” Strongheart quickly cuts in. “In fact, we should be thanking you for bringing him to justice. But if you learned anything from him, that may assist us in our investigation--”
I wave my hoof around, cutting her off. “No. He didn’t tell me anything.”
A silence quickly falls over them as they glance at each other. “Alright,” Braeburn says. “Then why’d you go try and fight a bunch of Vultures then?”
“Unrelated incident,” I shoot back.
Strongheart frowns. “Can you elaborate?”
“Nope. Ever hear of a little thing called the Frontier Justice Act?” I smirk at that. I don’t remember who signed that little bill into action, but it’s been perfect for folks like Twitch and myself.
“That only applies when you were contracted to lawfully locate and if possible detain a suspect,” Strongheart says, “and when there is tangible evidence that this individual commits a crime.”
“The fuck you explaining it to me for? I know what it means! It also means that legally, you have no right to ask about my mission or my client!” I jab.
Braeburn raises a hoof warily. “Ma’am, calm down.”
“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me! I’ll break your fucking legs!”
Another few seconds of silence pass. “... get that out of your system?” asks Braeburn, unfazed.
I grit my teeth. “Maybe. But look, I’m telling you. I didn’t get anything out of Dogma.”
Braeburn leans forwards and taps his hoof on his folder. “Look here, Killjoy. We know about the shit you do for your contracts, and we know you don’t like to play clean.”
Strongheart nods sadly. “The truth is you might be looking at an aggravated assault charge for what you did. None of us want that to happen.”
Well, now I know who’s the bad cop and who’s the good cop. Good to see that after all these years they’re still using the same fucking tactics. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Well, look at it this way,” Braeburn says. “If this gets on your record, you’d probably lose your license.” He flips open his folder and runs a hoof down a sheet of paper. “And accordin’ to what we got on you, this really ain’t a job you can afford to lose.”
“Low blow there, making fun of a mare’s financial state,” I grumble.
Strongheart nods sympathetically. “Killjoy, I know you must be upset right now, but we all want the same thing. We want to find whoever did this and bring them to justice. We want to do this the right way.”
They know I’m lying. I’m absolutely sure of that. But legally they can’t prove shit, and that’s what I’m banking on. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
Strongheart sighs. “Killjoy, please listen. Getting revenge isn’t going to help you. If you know anythin’ at all--”
“No. Nothing.”
“... you know it’s illegal to lie to the police, right?” Strongheart asks. Her voice seems generally laced with concern. I nod, and she sighs. “Miss Killjoy, you walk a very strange path. I can only hope that you know where it leads.”
The fuck is that supposed to mean? And why is everyone giving me all this weird shit about my own personal safety? “Uh… thanks?”
Braeburn glares at me. “Listen here now. Don’t think you can hide behind that law forever. If Ah find out you’re hidin’ somethin’ from us, you better believe Ah’ll toss your ass in jail. Ah don’t think Ah need to tell you what they do to ponies like you in prison. Now, Ah’ll ask you again. Do you know anythin’ about who killed Fadin’ Light?”
I pretend to think about it for a second. Then, I close my eyes and stick my tongue out.
Strongheart sighs, disappointed. “Your loss, I suppose.”
They grill me for about another half hour before they finally let me go. It takes another half an hour to get all my stuff back from their inventory. Then, a burly deputy walks me out to the lobby. As the door opens, I blink in surprise, recognizing someone sitting in the waiting room. “Octavia?”
Octavia looks up at me and folds up the magazine she’s reading. “Oh, dear, what happened to your eye?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, fighting the urge to touch it. “How’d you know I was here?”
Octavia shrugs. “I heard a thing or two. Do you still live in that dreadful place on Pine Grove?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I’ll drive you home,” Octavia declares. With that, she leads the way out of the station before I can protest.
I chase after her, shoving my way past two browncoats. “Wait, answer the damned question. How did you know I was here?”
Octavia flicks her tail. She opens the door to a sleek four-door sedan and climbs into the driver’s seat. “I have friends in the Office,” she replies.
I roll my eyes as I hop into the passenger’s seat. As I glance at her, I suddenly realize that she’s got some pretty heavy bags under her eyes. Don’t think I’ve seen those before. I shake the thought off and go back to my question. “Friends who know about me?”
“Dear, everyone in the Office knows about you,” Octavia replies as she starts the car engine.
“Fair, I guess.” I fold my forelegs across my chest and lean back, taking in the car. “This is a nice ride. How’d you afford this?”
Octavia just gives me an exhausted smile and says nothing. She pulls the car out of the lot and onto the main road. “So tell me, what did you do to warrant a visit to the station?”
I shrug, glancing out the window. “Just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding pertaining to your line of work, perhaps?”
I hesitate. How much does she know about what I do?
“Remember, I’m a musician, dear,” Octavia replies, never taking her eyes off the road. “It’s in my nature to hear things.”
I grunt at that. “Why are you being so intentionally vague?”
She laughs. “Oh, I simply enjoy it. I truly am close with some members of the Marshal’s Office. And you do have quite a reputation amongst them.”
“Yeah, tell me something I didn’t know.”
It used to be easier being a bounty hunter. I wasn’t around for the glory days, but I’ve heard a shit ton from the veteran Village Idiots and independents. Back in the day, the Marshal’s Office didn’t do a whole lot, and local sheriffs just looked the other way if you gave ‘em enough cash.
It’s a whole lot messier now, with new licensing rules and all that shit. Hell, a bunch of ponies are trying to get rid of us completely. Even if I don't lose my job to this, I might not have it next year regardless.
“Truly, Raindrops, what were you thinking starting a fight like that?”
I huff in annoyance. “Don't want to talk about it.” I reach over and turn on the car’s radio. My ears are suddenly filled with the sounds of guitar, drums, and singing. “... is this that new rock and roll crap? Damn, Tavi, didn’t know you were into this,” I laugh.
Octavia rolls her eyes and changes the station to a classical one, replacing the guitars with violins. “Co-worker,” she replies simply. “And don’t dodge the question.”
“What can I say? It’s work stuff. You wouldn’t understand,” I grunt.
“You underestimate me, dear,” Octavia shoots back. “And this isn’t related to a bounty, is it?”
My head whips around. Well, shit. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, dear, you’re smarter than that.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Look, the EMO isn’t going to do shit about this. Prison’s too good for these fuckers anyways. I want to make them hurt. I’m going to make them pay, Tavi.”
Octavia sighs again, shaking her head sadly. “Raindrops…”
“Don’t,” I spit. “I don’t want to hear it.”
My eyes are looking out the window, but I feel Octavia glance at me for a second. Eventually she turns her eyes back towards the road. The drive back up to Lone Hill is in silence.
Octavia pulls her car up to the curbside of my apartment building. I pop open the door and hop out. “Thanks for the lift, Tavi.” As I head towards the building, I’m annoyed to hear her turning off the car and opening her door. “Seriously?”
“I’m not quite done with you yet, dear,” Octavia replies, adjusting her suit coat as she shuts the door.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, don’t stay here too long though. Car like that’s going to attract the attention of every crook this side of Dodge.”
As I turn back towards the building, I spot a pegasus leap off the roof and dive towards a phone booth nearby. That’s never a good sign. I trot up the stairs and into the foyer. Octavia follows me to the stairwell, glancing about in disdain at the dismal state of the lobby. “I can’t believe you’re okay with living in this dreadful place.”
“I don’t need a condo,” I shoot back. “It’s all I can afford, anyways.”
We reach the third floor pretty quickly, and I dig my room key out of my saddlebags. I slam open the door and saunter on in. I hit the light switch with a hoof, and the overhead bulb flickers on to shine a light on my humble abode.
Octavia makes a weird noise from behind me. “You live like this?”
I look around the room, confused. What’s she on about? Maybe it’s the pizza boxes stacked up in the corner that I forgot to take out. Or the bookshelf that’s falling apart, because I don’t have the time or effort to fix it. Or the weird stain that’s on the carpet that’s either beer or urine… Celestia, I hope it’s beer.
I shrug and point a hoof at the side room I use for client meetings. It’s usually cleaner than everything else. “Have a seat or something.” I unsling my rifle and set it back in its gun rack, then unholster my pistol and put it on the table.
Octavia crosses the room delicately, making her way over to the table. “Dear, I’m afraid I don’t know how you can live like this. Surely you deserve better.”
“Well, shit, Tavi, the universe thinks you’re wrong,” I say as I shrug off my jacket and bags. I toss them over my chair and head to the kitchen. “You want pizza or something? A beer?”
“Charmed, but I’ll pass,” Octavia responds.
“Your loss.” I swipe a beer from my fridge and plop down across from her, kicking my legs up on the table. “Alright, I’ll bite. Why are you still here?”
Octavia sighed. “I fear that you aren’t taking things very seriously, dear.”
“Why, whatever do you mean by that?”
“Raindrops, your license could get suspended. Then you’d be out of a job. Isn’t this of any concern at all to you?”
I roll my eyes. “They’re always threatening to take our licences. They don’t scare me.”
“They should,” Octavia says. “Because I don’t think a pony like you would survive in prison. Raindrops, dear, surely you must be aware that you can’t afford to lose your job now? Do you understand the severity of your situation?”
I let out a nice long burp.
Octavia glares at me, then stands up. “Fine then. It is clear that you don’t care about this grave you’re digging for yourself. I dearly apologize for boring you and wasting your time.” She huffs and adjusts her suit coat again before turning to the door. “Oh, and Apple Fritter wants to see you tomorrow. Don’t make me drag you out there, dear.”
I raise my bottle in her direction. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Octavia opens the door, only to pause. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Oh! I didn’t know Killjoy had company,” says a new voice. I look up to see Twitch standing in the doorway. She shuffles about awkwardly before realizing she’s blocking the door and steps to the side.
Octavia smiles and nods before sauntering out. Twitch watches her go, mouth slightly open. She shakes her head and comes inside. “Uh… wow.”
“...right. How’d you know I was home?” I ask.
“I posted a sentry on your roof and told her to watch for you,” Twitch answers monotonously. “Who was that?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who? Octavia? She’s a… friend, I guess.”
“... she’s hot,” mutters Twitch.
I spit out my beer all over the table. “You fucking what?! That’s… Don’t say that shit!”
Twitch shrugs, tearing her eyes away from the door and trotting over to the table. I stand up to get some napkins and another beer for Twitch. “So why’re you here?”
“You get what you needed from Lowball?”
I scoff, pulling a bottle from my fridge. “You still want to help me?”
Twitch sighs. “You said you were going to tell me the truth.”
“And I am. This is a bounty, I got contracted to hunt down Fading’s killers,” I reply, rummaging around the fridge. I pull out a bottle labeled ‘sauce’ and scrunch my nose. “The fuck is this… uh, yeah, it’s what I told you.”
“So this isn’t personal? At all?” asks Twitch skeptically. “It’s a legitimate job?”
I pull out a bottle and kick the door shut. “Yeah. Above the table, just the way you like it.”
Twitch rolls her eyes, and I slide the bottle across the table. She pops the cap and takes a swig. “What’d you get from him?”
I wipe my mouth and grab a notebook and pencil. “Names and descriptions of the hit team. Next part will probably be tracking them down, but chances are they’ll stick around Lone Hill.”
“Right, local punks like staying local,” Twitch agrees. “Still, if word gets out that you’re taking numbers, the smart ones will probably jump ship.”
“Yeah, but the ‘smart ones’ in this case are Dogma and Lowball, and we’ve already got those fuckers,” I reply, sliding the list over to Twitch. She glances at it and nods.
“I’ll run it through our sources and see if we can get a bead on ‘em.” She sticks the notebook in her saddlebag and takes another pull from her beer. “But for real, tell me about Octavia.”
I slam a hoof into my face. “You’re not serious, are you?” I hazard a glance at her and see an eager grin on her face. “Okay, fuck. I’m going to need another beer if we’re doing this…”