//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: Balloonic Insanity 
// by ChangelingNumber4 
//------------------------------//



6:17 P.M. - Manehattan - 4/13

Whistling softly to himself, Big Mac fumbled around in his pouch for the keys. He knew that Aunt and Uncle Orange were being awfully nice to him, letting him stay in their private shed. A cheap place to stay hadn't been easy to find in the city, but luckily the oranges had let Macintosh stay with them. Still, he was annoyed at being demoted to the back shed.

Finally, Big Macintosh found the right key, and opened the door to his temporary home. While it wasn't the nicest shed around, it had running water, and that was enough. The small, singular room, lit only by one dim lamp, was barely large enough to fit the sofa and table it contained, let alone Big Mac's enormous suitcase. It would have to be hidden outside.

As Big Mac turned to go outside, he noticed a dark shape dash into a nearby bush. It must be a rabbit, or a squirrel, he thought to himself. No need for alarm.

But then he remembered the stories: stories of ponies who had been jumped in the city, getting killed in the night and having all their possessions taken. Stories of thieves who didn't kill you, but stole your things. And then the worst stories, of the maniacs who didn't kill for valuables. They killed only for the sheer joy of it.

Feeling his blood run cold, Big Mac nervously inched towards the bush. He decided to throw a rock into the bush, to frighten whatever woodland creature (or murderer) was hiding within. Finding a decently sized rock, Mac threw it in, expecting a homicidal maniac to come bursting out.

Instead, he got a squirrel.

After being frightened by the rock, it dashed up a nearby tree, where it watched Big Mac with frightened eyes. Chuckling to himself, Big Macintosh strolled on over to the squirrel.

"There's nothing to be afraid of here," he called up to the squirrel. "I'm a gentle pony. Couldn't hurt a fly if I tried."

The squirrel seemed to understand, as it cautiously came down from the tree, before regarding Big Mac with a look of curiosity and scurrying on its way. Macintosh watched it go, smiling fondly as he remembered his days of youth, back when he used to play with the squirrels. Wrapped up in memories, he failed to notice a second dark shape taking up residence behind the shed. With a grin on his face, Big Macintosh returned to inside the indoors..

Once inside the shed again, the reality of his situation hit Mac full in the face. No money means no sending money home. No money at home means no hip surgery. No hip surgery would mean that Granny would never walk again. The apple pony sighed, and flopped down onto the sofa-bed. Another day of work, and still no pay. The boss had had some sort of "monetary misplacing", meaning he had to go another day without dinner. So far, the big city wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Deciding to hit the hay, Big Mac examined the small abode to make sure that nothing was out of place. As he was about to do so, he realized the pointlessness of examining such a small home. Surely nothing could have moved out of place.

Big Macintosh laid down on the sofa, and drifted off peacefully to sleep. Soon, however, that peace was about to be ruptured.

The shadow that had previously invaded the shed now rose up from the floor. Within its hoof, a shiny metal object glistened in the moonlight coming through the window. With silent and sure footsteps, the shadow began its descent upon Big Mac.

Just as the seasons must rise and fall, so must ponies. Once at the sofa, the shadow examined its target. He appeared to be very strong; a direct approach would have been impossible. The shadow thought about letting Big Mac go; after all, it wasn't his fault that his name had appeared on the list. It wasn't his fault that death was soon coming. None of it is his fault.

But a duty must be carried through.

With an excited grin, the shadow lunged towards Big Mac, knife flashing. Thirty seconds, a muffled scream, and a lot of blood later, one new soul had arisen to heaven. The murderer, having killed again, experienced the now-common ecstasy. Ever since that first kill, it had been one death after another. There was no reason. There was no motive. There was only the sheer joy of bloodlust, and the feeling of glee when the opposing party dropped dead. The feeling of ending someone else's life. The feeling of knowing that you were alive, and that they were not.

Panting with the adrenaline, the murderer exited through the front door with no attempt at hiding the evidence, but looking forwards to the next time when blood could be upon its hooves.

Princess Luna sighed. "Bad news, team," she said with a downtrodden expression, "we've lost him again."

The reaction was outlandish. Everypony, it seemed, in the entire agency was on their hooves, shouting in outrage at the peeving turn of events. To be so close to catching him...to be on the brink of success...and to have lost him again. The feeling of despair was enough to even provoke a reaction from the usually placid P.I. sitting alone in the corner.

Raising her eyes, the Psychological Investigator examined the chaos around her. The agency, usually filled with hardworking ponies intent on finding the culprit of the recent string of murders, was now in complete and utter chaos. Ponies were wallowing on the floor; one was curled up into a ball with a paper bag. Sighing to herself, the P.I. allowed herself to have one brief reaction: a short shake of the head, as if the reprimand the team for failing yet again.

Rising to her hooves, the P.I. knew that she really didn't have any incentive on this case. It wasn't the job of an Investigator to become invested in or even really care about a case. P.I.'s just get sent out by the government to "investigate potentially serious cases", which is basically low pay for even less work. The P.I. of Luna Agencies knew her place; she knew when not to interfere.

As she sauntered out the door, the Investigator took one last look around the agency. The distraught faces of all the ponies on the case showed that whoever this murderer was, they certainly weren't going to go down without a fight.