//------------------------------//
// In Which a Lead is Followed 
// Story: Gun, With Occasional Pony 
// by Squeak-anon 
//------------------------------//




Chapter Three
In Which a Lead is Followed


I haled a cab. The Equestria Daily building wasn’t far, but walking through the inner /co/mpound the early hours was often more trouble than it was worth. I realized that I hadn’t slept in quite a while, and the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. Celestia’s shift, I thought briefly. An odd trend in the OC was that the crime rate went in reverse. During Celestia’s shift we got spammers , scammers , trolls and a general grab bag of all those wonderful things. During the night they slept, I suppose annoyances weren’t nocturnal. The mods were suppose to get rid of them, but they hardly ever did anything quickly. You had to fend for yourself in the OC.
The Cab pulled up to the building. It was massive, it’s exterior changed periodically, it was always hard to peg what it looked like when it wasn’t dolled up as something or other. But basically it had the shape of a large wizard’s hat most of the time. Today it was done up to be themed after the Gala, the last episode of the season was airing soon, and the theme had been created to celebrate. thousands of ponies would be here to watch it when it aired. There was a buzz around as always, ponies entered and exited through the multiple doors at the building’s base. I walked up to the nearest one. There was a line, mostly fic writers, anxious to get their newest work out to the masses, a few drawponies mixed in, hoping to get their shot as well. A few were turned away by the guard. I waited for a bit  before I came to the front, I got a good look at the guard and sighed.
“Squeakers!”  He yelled
“Hello Sprinkles....”
“Ah man! You haven’t been around here in forever, how’s it going Rubber Duck?”
Sprinkles was a grey earth pony who often worked odd jobs around the OC. It seemed today he was playing guard dog. His full name was Sargent Sprinkles, there was a rumor he’d earned that title during the Ban Wars, but I doubted it. He wore an army hat and a clown nose at all times, fitting as he was quite the jokester. We hadn’t often seen one another, so I didn’t know him all that well, but he had a thousand nicknames for me none the less.
“No, I haven’t, funny how that works out.” I replied.
“Yeah, small world ain’t it Squeaky? So, what’s brings you back to the EqD? Want your job back?”
“No, I’m here on a case Sprinkles, somepony’s been murdered.”
That made him pause. “No kiddin’?”
“No kidding at all. I’m here to follow up on a lead, so I haven’t got time for pleasantries, sorry.”
“Fine, fine, I get it, on duty and all that, finding clues, solving murders, regular Sherlock Hoof aren’t you?”
“Nope, I don’t have a Watson.” I said wryly. “Now, come on I haven’t got time for this.”
Sprinkles looked a bit put out. “Alright, you know, if you rush everywhere you’ll miss the small things, Squeakers.” he said opening the door.
“Don’t worry.” I said. “I’ll try to be very attentive. I strode past him into the building.
Being inside the Equestria Daily main office, is a bit like how I’d imagine being inside a beehive might feel. The second I walked through the doors the buzz of activity hit me like a shovel to the face. Ponies everywhere, rushing from point A to point Z and all 24 letters between those. The top fic writers had offices on this floor, all of them sat around writing like madponies trying to get the newest chapters out into the OC. I remembered the early days of the office, it wasn’t nearly as busy back then. It had once been a nice, peaceful place to write in fact. Now I wondered how anyone got anything done in this noise. No wonder Slywit chose to work at home. But that’s progress I suppose.
As I walked, comments scattered and ran across my hooves. Comments were the main driving force behind fics, they were created whenever some pony decided to review a story. They popped up above the cubicles of the author who’s story was being reviewed with a noise a bit like popcorn in a microwave. The small creatures were some low level form of life, and appeared as small post-it notes with tiny arms, legs and shoes. They were almost always fancy dress shoes for some reason I couldn’t being to fathom. No one was quite sure why they happened, but life went on.
I surmised that a new writer had to be in the office, because the comments were running amok. Leaping in and out of trash bins, swimming in the water coolers, and generally being little terrors. Bad comments always acted this way. When a story was reviewed poorly they popped up and started making trouble. Most writers had to deal with this at some point, and it was always their job to round up the unruly creatures.  Judging from the chaos taking place in the corner of the office in which I was standing, someone had written something really terrible.
As I walked, trying to avoid the little monsters tugging at my legs something orange and blue came barreling into my side.
I gasped as the wind was knocked out of me, landing on the floor against the wall with a thud.
The pony that ran into me was on her feet first.
“Get them off! Get them off!” She yelled. Several comments had leapt up, pulling at her mane and tail. Everypony in the office ignored her screams, and went about their business, walking around her, their own destinations were far more important.
I got to me feet, shaking away pain I was sure I’d feel later. “You must be the new author.” I said.
Nopony ever helped out the newbie, it was a tradition. Bad comments slowed down the whole office. if you got them, you had to deal with them.
“Yes! Help me! Please!” she yelled, trying to shake the comments away.
Alas, I’m not made of stone. I didn’t work here, their ‘Traditions’ didn’t apply to me anyway.
“Hold still.” I walked over, reaching into her mane, I bit down on one of the comments and pulled it out, tossing it onto the floor. “Uhg.” I spat, the taste still lingering in my mouth. Bad comments tasted awful.
I grabbed a nearby bin and we soon had the lot of them rounded up. Crisis averted, I got a good look at the unicorn in front of me. She had an orange coat with a bright blue mane and tail. Her cutie mark was a slightly crooked writers quill  turned at an angle on her flank. Due to her rather loud color scheme, I hazarded a guess that perhaps she was one of the Summerponies. Summerponies were a slang term for ponies that came from a growing community on farther edges of the OC. So far it didn’t have a proper name like the /co/mpound, or the /b/ay. It was an artsy place, filled with a lot of ponies at odds with the /co/mpound’s values. The kind that wore multicolored legwarmers, had fox ears, and other such things that were generally looked down upon here. In truth, I didn’t mind them as much as most as long as they didn’t bother anypony. But the OC is tough, there was little room for ponies like that.
Looking her up and down again, I noticed that besides the coloring she didn’t look that much different from any other pony you’d see on the street. Perhaps I’d been quick to judge, maybe she was just eccentric. She sagged slightly now that the work was over, and let out a sign.
“Thank you.” She said breathlessly. “I’m Starshine Maria Quill by the way.”
Never mind, she was a Summerpony most certainly.
“No problem.” I shrugged, as far as ponies can shrug in anycase. “I’m Squeak.”
She paused for a moment. “Oh, I’ve heard of you, you used to work here didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. I didn’t want to go into this topic. “A long time ago.”
“What happened?” she asked, using her magic to collect a few papers that had spilled in the chaos.
“Lots of things.” I said curtly. “It’s not important. Now, if I were you I’d get that bin of comments down to the furnace before they get out.” I nodded towards the shaking canister on her side. “And I’d get a few tips from the other’s while you’re at it so this doesn’t happen again.” I managed a smile. “They don’t bite. Much. Good luck!”
I trotted down the hall before she could reply. I didn’t have time for those kinds of distractions. I’m too friendly sometimes. Slywit had warned me about it on a few occasions, along with others. It was fine every now and again, but someday I was pretty sure it would get me killed. For now though, I just needed to find Madmax’s office.
Another thing about the Equestria Daily building, was that it was hard to find much of anything off of the first floor. Fics, and fic writers were easy to find, they were everywhere, with varying degrees of skill. They came and went so fast they often never got anything close to an office to themselves, except for the very good ones. So there was no point in moving them to the upper floors, or anywhere else. They simply shifted too quickly. Anything off of the first floor was different story. The building was under constant change and construction, moving, demolishing, rebuilding, everything was in constant motion. If you found a room one day, there was no guarantee it’d be there the next.
I slowed my trot as I came to the elevators. As I walked towards them I noticed the less unruly comments helping out around the office. Fetching water, holding pens, and generally being well behaved. I briefly wondered what had become of my comments. But that was neither here nor there.
The elevators were done up to look like giant books today. A Twilight theme I suspected. I’ll never be quite sure how the elevators always managed to work, though the rest of the building never seemed to stay constant.  I was thankful for it though. The doors opened with a ding and I stepped inside.
I wasn’t quite sure which floor to go to. The buttons panel took up a third of the wall, stretching all the way to the top on to the back of the elevator. It always took me a while to find where I wanted to go. The higher ups always knew which button to press, somehow, but I didn’t have that luxury.
So I pushed a button at random.
There’s something I’ll always hate about the Equestria Daily elevators. This is the fact that it is impossible to tell which direction they’ll take to get you to your destination. They hardly ever simply went ‘Up’, up was only one of many options.
I braced myself against the floor as the motors started up. All at once I was roughly thrown to the side as the car shot to the left. Though I’d been expecting it I hit the opposite wall with a thud. There was no preparing for these elevators. I lurched forwards as the car jerked to a stop, tossing me around like a super ball. My stomach took up temporary residence in my throat as it suddenly jerked downwards, falling rapidly to wherever it was going. I was quickly smooshed against the ceiling by the force of the decent.
I’ve often wondered if ponies have bones, or what I’m made of in particular, The OC doesn’t exactly have a great department of medical science. So no one really knew the answer. I was beginning to doubt it though, because I surely should have broken a few by now.
I hit the floor as the elevator once again halted it’s progress. Somehow my hat remained on my head through the whole ordeal. I really was starting to wonder it was even possible for it to come off.
The doors opened with a ding, sliding away to reveal an office. It was a large one, filled with shag carpeting and various statures, most of which, I noticed, were of Trixie. The entire far wall was nothing but a large window. I looked out and saw I was high above the /co/mpound. I briefly questioned the fact that I had gone down, but somehow ended up far above the city, but quickly abandoned the thought. As the popular saying went, ‘It’s magic I ain’t gotta explain shit’.
There was a desk across from me. The chair behind it was turned away, judging from the Trixie statues and carpeting, I had some idea who’s office I was in.
“Hello, Squeaks.” said the chair.
“Hiya.” I said. “How’s business?”
The chair spun around. A large cube sat between the armrest, red and yellow with intricate carvings  on all four of it’s faces. “Business is a’boomin.” Said Sethisto



Edited by Lightsideluc:

http://lightsideluc.deviantart.com/