Chapter One Hundred Thirty Six
The overheard fluorescent lights gave off a steady hum, sounding vaguely like a mosquito with a bad cold. Along with an unsteady, intermittent flickering between dimness and brightness with no discernible rhyme or reason as to the pattern existing as it did, which seemed to exist simply for the sake of existence itself to fill an otherwise existing gap.
It was an annoyance that wasn't needed, but at the same time simply couldn't be avoided.
It was also a distraction that made it difficult to read and focus on the reports that were currently sitting on the worn desk. All that Stalwart Stance could do was let out a frustrated sigh and pinch the bridge of his wheat-colored muzzle while closing his tired green eyes, trying to get his vision to clear up enough to let him try and focus a little bit more.
As Captain of the Manehattan Police Department, he had a lot of responsibilities that were entirely unenviable, and sometimes left him wondering why he'd even gone into policing in the first place.
Being the spokespony for his department whenever it came to press meetings and interviews, defending the actions of his officers, or condemning them if need be, sorting out commendations and reprimands when warranted, and answering to higher-ups that were more interested in politics than solving crimes, were just a few of the headaches and hangups that could made one long for being back on the beat again.
Walking patrols, chasing down fleeing suspects through back alleys, and dodging the occasional crossbow -or magical- bolt fired by said suspects, was a lot more preferable than all of the paperwork that had to be accounted for in the wake of such incidents. But patrol beats and hot arrests were a young pony's game anymore, and he was well past his prime when it came to that sort of involved -and vigorous- physical activity anymore.
"I should've gone into something that didn't involve so much paperwork. But oh no, I've got to have serving and protecting ponies in my blood," he grumbled and sighed while trying to resist the urge to lean back and his cozy -bordering on overstuffed- office chair and just let his head hang back against the broken-in headrest.
He shook his head again, and glanced over to the bulletin board currently occupying the left wall of his office, at the photographs of the numerous victims whose cases were still open, pending, and above all pressing. Even on paper, the terror and helplessness in their eyes was crushing to see. Desperate ponies in need, who couldn't help themselves with their current predicaments.
With a sigh of resolution, and ignoring the creaking of his chair as he shifted his weight, he returned his attention to the file folder before him, determined to do what he could to help them, no matter how small that contribution might be. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Or perhaps in this particular instance, nothing invested, nothing returned.
But the more he fought to focus on his paperwork, the more he found it impossible to tune out all the background noise of the precinct just beyond the door of his office. All the ever-increasing background noise that was practically producing a wave of pressure all its own.
And then came a frantic knocking that practically shook the glass in the door's frame, before the door was opened from the outside by somepony who didn't even wait for him to react before just barging in as if it were their office. Utterly shattering his focus like a used party balloon being reinflated one time too many.
"Cap'!"
He looked up, ready to reprimand whoever had the nerve to just butt in like that, but bit back the tongue lashing when he saw it was one of his Lieutenant officers, with an anxious, wide-eyed look on his face.
The last time he'd seen Steel Feather like this, he'd only been two weeks into the job and still trying to get adjusted to how seedy Manehattan life could be.
He still remembered that incident quite well, even to this day. It'd been a particularly disturbing case for all of them working it. He'd later been found sitting alone in the locker room, his eyes partially glazed over and staring unfocused at the far wall, trying to comprehend how anypony could be wicked enough to... to do what'd been done.
If he was seeing that same reaction now, he really didn't want to contemplate what sort of development had occurred.
"You... you gotta see what Copper Top is bringing in. You're not gonna believe this one," he stated in a clearly distressed, uneasy tone.
He weighed the statement, contemplating it as he glanced between his officer, and then back down at the same papers he'd been staring intently at for the past hour in an effort to make sense of something that might potentially clue them into a lead.
With a weak sigh, he gently deposited the file folder on the desk, before easing himself out of his chair. Maybe a few minutes away and focused on something else would help him.
Steel Feather waited until he was just about at the door before moving and trotting back into the squad room with him close behind, wondering just what'd gotten his precinct in such a state of agitation.
He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes practically going wide at what he saw standing there in the middle of the room. Because "what" was the only coherent description of what he was seeing for himself.
It was tall as it stood on its hind legs, like a minotaur or an abyssinian, but not anywhere near like either of those species; its structure and stature was all wrong for being related to either one of those. Just the feet alone were all wrong to suggest any sort of connection.
Its manner of dress was almost as bizarre as it was. For starters, most creatures even this far in Manehattan, didn't regularly bother with clothing outside of special occasions. And those that did, didn't bother enough to try and cover up everything. But in this thing's case there wasn't anything below the neck that wasn't uncovered.
In addition to that, the style was definitely foreign, looking almost like it was supposed to be a variation of a tuxedo, white with black trim and long flowing tails, but it was nowhere near as fancy as what the upper class opera snobs wore for a night out on the town.
The pale, ashy gray skin of its face, and the unkempt black hair atop its head, were an off-putting sight on their own, especially for a species that was accustomed to the idea of total-body fur coverage. But what made it worse was how the contrast really made the eyes stand out. The eyes of a pit viper with their slit pupils; the eyes of a definite predator.
A predator, but not a dumb animal. No, these were eyes that even at this distance, conveyed that an intelligence lurked behind them as they subtly moved about the room in a glancing fashion. An intelligence that rivaled a pony's. This was no beast that'd been brought in, but a sapient being, he was certain of it.
Whatever this... entity... was, he didn't know. Nor did the environment around it as it was being escorted by Copper Top who seemed blissfully oblivious to the way it seemed to disturb the air in the room with its presence alone.
"Go on, get over there!"
The sudden shout from Copper Top as she pushed the entity along to the closest desk in the squad room, and the clinking of the chain on the hoofcuffs currently restraining its upper limbs in the front, snapped him out of the haze that'd overtaken his mind.
And only now did he realize that his officer had something strapped across her back as she walked and guided.
"... What exactly is going on here?"
"Got a report about a strange creature terrorizing ponies. I found this thing standing in the middle of downtown. It had this with it," she stated as she let go of the suspect long enough to unstrap what was on her back and set it down on the desk, revealing it to be a curved sword tucked into its sheathe. Along with what looked like some sort of purse. "Busted this creepy character for carrying a deadly weapon in public and brought the palooka in for questioning."
One look at the entity Copper Top had in custody was enough to suggest it hadn't been brought in through mere physical force alone. The way it just silently stood there, with a posture that practically oozed the notion of it being in full control of the situation, suggested a lot more was going on here than what met the naked eye. Like it was here of its own volition rather than because it was forced here.
"Right," he muttered to himself. "Take our friend here to interrogation room one for the time being."
"Ah, Cap', room one still has the suspect in that carriage-jacking case, we're trying to sweat him," one of the other officers in the room pointed out. "We'll put it in room two, that one's empty."
Whatever. He didn't feel like grousing about minor details right now, he just wanted the thing out of his sight. Just being around it was enough to make him feel like his lungs were forgetting how to function. How Copper Top seemed to be immune to it all was a mystery. Maybe it was youth and he really was getting too old to do the job anymore.
"You heard him, come on!" Copper Top yelled as she started shoving again.
As Captain of the Manehattan Police Department, Stalwart Stance had seen a lot of things in his time. From the mundane to the fantastical, to the downright unbelievable. But what he'd just witnessed felt like it easily topped every experience he could've had in his time here. That... for lack of a better descriptor, being... was unlike anything he'd ever encountered before. Unlike anything he'd even heard about before. Even after it'd left the squad room, its presence could still be felt in the precinct building in an oppressive, all-encompassing manner.
This... this was a primal sort of sensation that he hadn't experienced since he was a beat cop, back when he'd felt himself being watched from the shadows in an ambush situation. He certainly hadn't missed being on the receiving end of it one bit.
To his left, a female pegasus who held the rank of Sergeant made a desperate grab for the closest wastebasket and just barely got it under her chin in time to avoid vomiting profusely on the floor, breaking them all out of their stupor.
"Its eyes!" she choked out in-between coughs and further retching. "Did you see its eyes!? It was like looking into the eyes of the Lord of Tartarus himself! That thing was looking right at us! It came up to the surface to look for new souls, and it picked us to drag back down into the depths with it!"
Ridiculous as the mid-emesis panicking might've been, he couldn't help but feel a little bit relieved that he wasn't the only one who'd experienced a great sense of unease by what they'd just been in the presence of; it made him feel like he really wasn't too old to be doing this job just quite yet.
Although that brief bit of good mood was quickly ruined as his Sergeant started dry heaving.
"Somepony take her to the break room," he instructed. "And then get back to work. We've still got a job that needs to be done, this doesn't change anything. We've still got ponies counting on us."
Through some unexplained happenstance transpiring when nopony was looking, "get back to work" had apparently ended up being interpreted/translated as "last one to interrogation room two's observation area is a rotten egg!" as numerous ponies in the squad room had piled into the area, huddling behind the two-way mirror to observe out of a sense of morbid curiosity, the strange being that was currently sitting behind the table.
Stalwart Stance just so happened to be one of them.
The way the entity just sat there on the provided chair, staring at nothing in an unfocused manner, was almost as disturbing as when it was focused on them back in the squad room. No efforts to escape, no looking around its surroundings, it hadn't even blinked in the ten minutes it'd been sitting there. It was almost like looking at a living statue. Had it even breathed once while it was in there?
The glass was doing absolutely nothing to suppress the feelings of dread that were practically radiating off of its frame.
When the sound of the door opening was heard, some of them nearly recoiled backwards in surprise from the silence inside the room being broken. And in walked a griffon with oily slate gray fur and spectacles resting on his face. A griffon detective who held the rank of Sergeant and bucked naming trends by being known as Chomp.
Out of everypony at the precinct, he had been the only one brave enough to actually volunteer to do the interrogation, reasoning that the task required a carnivore with a lot of protein in their diet to take the lead.
"I take it you're not from around these parts," he started, his voice distorted through the intercom system as he spoke while sitting down on the other side of the table. "So I'm required to inform you about a few things before we start, just so everything is nice and legal. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I've explained them to you?"
Nothing. Not a blink, not even a peep. It was like Chomp was talking to a petrified cockatrice victim.
And then the entity slowly began to move, as it turned its head in the direction of the two-way mirror. As if it could see right through the glass and was looking right at them...
"The mystery behind your brother's murder was solved."
More than a few of them jumped in response to the entity finally speaking up. Some even yelped and fell backwards, landing on either the floor or coworkers. Even Chomp, with his bolstering about how his protein-rich diet would see him through this, wasn't immune to the sudden shock.
But Stalwart Stance remained rooted to the spot by what he'd just heard.
"What-" Chomp started, "what're you talk-"
"The party responsible for the death of Commander and Acting-Captain Ready Stance, of the Canterlot Royal Guard, was found and brought to justice for their crimes against Equestria and its citizens," the entity continued, paying absolutely no mind to the griffon in the room as it continued to address the glass. Continued to address him in a dull, monotone voice that was totally devoid of anything resembling emotion.
Against better judgement, he reached out and pressed the button on the intercom to speak.
"How did he die?"
This wasn't proper at all. But the pain that came from losing his brother was still fresh, and was currently taking precedent over procedure.
"Nightmare Moon returned once again, free from what restraint she was under while possessing Princess Luna's body. She attempted to possess him to use as a tool for her own endeavors. But when she could not control him, she simply killed him instead. When Princess Celestia learned the truth she grew quite furious. When Nightmare Moon was eventually found and confronted she was put to death for what she did. No purification by the Elements of Harmony, no banishment, no petrification into statue form, no forgiveness and pardoning, just straight up permanent death."
Stalwart felt a lump forming in his throat as he uneasily tried to swallow. He still remembered the letter he'd received, filled with all the usual and meaningless statements that went into informing somepony about the death of a loved one. He hadn't even been told how Ready had died in the first place. And to think that...
"Did she suffer for what she did to him?" he asked.
"She did," the entity confirmed with a voice like ice water. "The argument could even be made that the level of suffering Nightmare Moon experienced in the time leading up to her death would constitute outright sadism. She was burned with fire, impaled, electrocuted, bludgeoned, partially disemboweled, forcibly suffocated, had her horn chopped right off of her head, and hit with a concentrated solar death ray of an attack that reduced her body to cinders."
Stalwart shuddered at just how cold and clinical the list had been, almost wishing that he hadn't asked. The answer hadn't brought him the comfort that he'd hoped it would.
"We have business that needs to be discussed."
The sound of the voice returning snapped him out of his own thoughts, and back to the entity it belonged to, still sitting in the interrogation room, and still looking at him through the glass.
They all watched as it raised its forelimbs out of its lap and began to fiddle with the hoofcuffs that were keeping said limbs restrained. And then they watched in horror as the cuffs fell right off and clattered to the table.
Those cuffs, just like all of them the department had in stock, had been made with restraining ponies and other dangerous creatures in mind. Constructed from hardened stainless steel, with specialized enchantments designed to negate an earth pony's strength, and render a unicorn's magic inaccessible so long as they were in place. The only way they could be opened was by having the right key, or knowing a specialized unlocking spell. It'd even been theorized that they could contain an alicorn if the situation ever called for such.
And this thing had just disabled them with ease. It'd simply pressed on the ratcheting shackle with its thumb -he thought it was a thumb, based on what they knew about minotaurs- and applied what looked like the barest of pressure, effortlessly bending the hardened steel structure just enough to pop it loose from the locking system and force it back open.
"Cap'," one of his officers who he couldn't see right at the moment muttered, "that shouldn't be possible."
It shouldn't have been. And yet it had been regardless. In fact he would go so far as to argue that it'd been possible from the moment Copper Top had slapped the cuffs on it in the first place. It'd simply been going along with everything out of its own volition in being brought here.
Chomp's futile protests as it stood up from the seat died in his throat as it turned and casually slid its hands into its pockets, and walked towards the two-way mirror, the glass doing nothing to shield them from its piercing stare.
"I count nine ponies on the other side of this glass. The Captain, two Lieutenants, and six Sergeants. Two unicorns, four pegasi, three earth ponies."
And then, in horrifying fashion, it withdrew one of its hands from its pockets, and slowly began to list them off by race, based on their position by where each one of them stood in the room, in a left-to-right fashion as it gestured at each one of them as if it saw them as plain as day.
By the time it was done demonstrating that the glass was serving no purpose in its existence, pretty much all of them were quaking where they stood. He wasn't even ashamed to admit that he was one of them after what he'd just witnessed.
"What-" he cleared his throat to try and get some of the squeak out of his voice, not wanting to let on just how terrifying this was to experience. "What exactly are you?"
"Exactly who and what I am is a very long, very involved discussion," it stated simply, perhaps even dismissively, as if it didn't believe such a discussion was even worthwhile. "Forcing my way out of this room would be quite easy, but then I would have to justify the resulting expense report to Princess Celestia to pay for the incurred damages. Can you simply open the door instead, and save us all the time and paperwork that would be involved with such a course of action?"
If the previous demonstration of sheer strength and perception had been chilling, that simple statement and request for assistance -at risk of physical damage for noncompliance- was downright terrifying. Ponies were already on their way to open the door from the outside before even being given the order to do so. Not that he could really blame them after what they'd just witnessed. He honestly wouldn't be surprised if this thing could simply tear the door off its hinges after what they'd seen for themselves. That was a headache they really didn't need right now, on top of every other headache they were having to contend with.