My Little Investigations: The Silent Dirge

by Metool Bard

Advanced Tech

Just like yesterday, we made it through out practice session without incident. From this, I can infer that the killer is indeed only targeting the main events of the festival. That still doesn't match up with the death threats, but then again, that's the least of my worries at this point.

"That sounded wonderful, everypony," I said. "I do believe we have a good handle on things. We should be ready for tomorrow's performance."

"Assuming nothing happens to us," said Parish darkly.

Beauty Brass shivered. "Wh-why did you have to bring that up?" she stammered.

"I do apologize, Beauty Brass," said Parish with a sigh. "But the way things are going, it would be foolish of me to ignore everything that's been going on."

I can't tell if Parish is simply being pessimistic, or if he's actually starting to get wise to the killer like I am. Either way, it's clear that Beauty Brass has her suspicions. And her fears.

"Well, we can only hope that everything is fixed by then," I said with a shrug. "After all, the show must go on."

"Indeed," Frederick concurred. "This isn't the first time we've confronted adversity, Beauty Brass. And come what may, we'll get through it like we always do."

"I, suppose," said Beauty Brass, although she didn't sound too sure of herself. "I'm going to go find Pitch. She might need some moral support for tonight."

"I personally think you need it more than her, but then again, who am I to judge?" said Frederick with a shrug.

I sighed inwardly. Frederick obviously doesn't know how much turmoil Pitch Perfect is experiencing at this moment. As far as I'm concerned, both she and Beauty Brass could use the support.

"I think that's a great idea, Beauty Brass," I said. "She's over in Performance Studio B with the rest of her band."

Beauty Brass gave me a small smile. "Right. Thanks, Octy," she said. "Seeya later, guys."

With a bow, she trotted off.

"Well, I suppose that's it for practicing today," said Parish. "Shall we organize a meeting place for tomorrow?"

"How about we meet for breakfast?" I suggested. "I know this splendid coffee shop a short walk from the hotel."

"Sounds good," said Frederick. "Parish?"

Parish simply shrugged, indicating that he had no objections.

"Wonderful," I said. "And this time, I'll be sure to walk Beauty Brass over."

"Good. We wouldn't want a repeat of last time," said Frederick dryly. "Or any of the times before, for that matter."

"Right," I said, putting away my cello. "Anyway, I'd best be off. I'd like to check out the festivities a bit more before supper."

"Right-o then," said Frederick. "See you later, Octavia."

We exchanged farewells, and I made my way over to the theater. I figure now would be as good a time as any to see how Mike Check's investigation is coming along. Hopefully, he's made a bit of progress since the last time I saw him.

"I gotta level with you, Scratch. I don't know what the heck I'm looking at right now."

"Pure awesomeness, that's what."

"I mean besides that."

When I got to the theater, I was surprised to see Vinyl showing the blueprint we got from Lyra to Mike Check. While I agree that he might be the only pony who could make any sense of the thing, it sounded to me that Vinyl just wanted to show off her new toy. Er, the diagram for her new toy, rather.

"Am I interrupting anything?" I asked.

"Hmm? Oh, hey Melody," said Mike. "Yeah, Scratch was just showing me this, odd thing. She says Heartstrings found it."

"I see," said I. "And?"

"And it's weird," said Mike.

"Weird, but awesome," Vinyl clarified.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I've never seen anything like it before. I mean, it could work conceivably, but what kind of nutjob would want to convert a stereo system into a WMD?"

That is actually an interesting question. Although a better one is how does it tie in with this mystery? And it appears that Mike hasn't got an answer for that one.

"Well, that aside, have you made any progress in your investigation?" I inquired.

"Some," said Mike. "I managed to dissect the transmitter successfully. It's controlled by remote, and it also has a defense mechanism in case anypony tries to tamper with it. That's probably what happened yesterday when we found it."

"Yeah, that doesn't really help us unless we know who's got the remote," said Vinyl.

"That's why I'm trying to coordinate with security right now to help out with the investigation," said Mike. "I've asked Point Dexter for access to the security room to see if the cameras have caught anything. He hasn't gotten back to me yet, but then again, I figure that he's pretty busy."

"How so?" I asked.

Mike's face darkened. "Slick's pulling all the stops to make sure we don't have a hat trick of *ahem* accidents. That means security is on high alert, and my crew has to quadruple-check everything before the next performance."

So, it appears Slick Licks is taking the death threats seriously, too. Not all that surprising, seeing as he has been kept apprised to everything Mike and I found. Even so, I can only imagine how frustrated he must be right now.

"What about that large tuning fork?" I asked.

Mike sighed and shook his head. "I haven't been able to figure that thing out. I was planning on taking it apart like I did with the transmitter, but I don't really know where to start. Then again, my special talent is dealing with audio equipment, not bizarre sound-based weaponry."

Suddenly, Vinyl perked up. "Wait a minute. I think I've just stumbled upon a pattern here."

"A pattern?" I parroted.

"Yeah," said Vinyl. "First the transmitter, then the tuning fork, and now this awesome Bass Cannon. The killer seems to have a thing for weaponized sound."

"How can you be sure the Bass Cannon fits into all this?" I asked.

Vinyl paused. "Good question, Octy," she said. "Mike, take another look at those blueprints. Is there anything interesting to mention?"

Mike looked over the blueprint with a critical eye. After a pause, his eyes widened.

"I think you're onto something, Scratch," he said. "Upon close inspection, some of the schematics here match those of the transmitter to a T."

"Meaning, what exactly?" I said.

"Heck if I know," said Mike with a shrug. "It doesn't really bring us closer to the killer, but it could once we have more evidence."

Well, I suppose that's better than nothing. But now that I think about it, the killer's modus operandi is a dead giveaway. After all, if he's using sound-based weapons to try and kill us, it's small wonder that Pitch was able to hear them. And even disregarding that, most musicians have rather good hearing. If Pitch wasn't catching him, I'm certain somepony else would eventually. So, why use sound-based weapons at all if it just increases your chances of getting caught? I swear, the more I think about this wanker's plan, the more it doesn't make sense.

"Well, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I've got some work to do," said Mike, giving the blueprint back to Vinyl. "Thanks again for your help, ladies. I'll keep you posted."

With that, he walked off.

"I must say, that was quite an interesting bit of reasoning there, Vinyl," I said. "I'm not sure where it'll lead us, but at least it's leading us somewhere."

"Somepony sounds frustrated," said Vinyl knowingly.

"Honestly, can you blame me?" I sighed.

"No, not really," said Vinyl with a sigh of her own. "So, what now? I'm guessing our next move is finding Pan and asking him about what Silenus told us."

"That actually wouldn't be wise," I said. "Remember, it's supposed to be a secret. If Pan is hiding this for whatever reason, we need some proof before confronting him."

"Like what?"

"I, don't know."

Vinyl shrugged. "Well, I guess all we can do then is mingle a bit and keep our ears open," she said. "Because otherwise, I've got nothing."

"What about Slick Licks?"

"What about him? The guy's probably running himself ragged trying to keep this whole shindig running. I doubt he's going to know anything new."

Then, we've truly exhausted all of our options for now. That's, quite disheartening, actually. I was hoping to find the killer and solve this mystery before the performance tonight, but it appears that was just wishful thinking. Unless I stumble across something vital, this nightmare will have to continue for another day.

I'm sorry, Fiddlesticks. I'm doing what I can, but I'm afraid it might not be enough to save you and your band from being attacked tonight. I know it's not really my fault, but I'm sorry nonetheless.

"Hey, are you okay, Octy?" Vinyl asked.

I sniffled and wiped away a single tear. "I'll be alright," I said. "Come, let's go see if we can't find some new information before supper."

"Yeah, sure," said Vinyl. She then nuzzled my cheek. "Hey, it's gonna be alright, Tavi. Whether it's today or tomorrow, we'll get this sunnova bitch. I promise."

"I know," I said somberly. "But..."

"You're worried about Fiddle, aren't you?"

She knows me too well. "Yes," I sighed. "Her and Pitch. Since Pitch is a liability to the killer's plot, it's likely that he's planning to take extra precautions."

"I wouldn't dwell on it," said Vinyl. "Your sister's a tough pony, and she's got Mare-Do-Well watching over her. They're all gonna be fine; I know it."

"Perhaps you're right," I said, trying my best not to cry. "But still, I can't help but worry."

"Yeah, I know," said Vinyl, placing a foreleg around my shoulder. "That's why I'm here."

I gave Vinyl a sad smile. "And for that, I'm eternally grateful," I said. "Alright, we've dallied here long enough. Let's go."

"Right behind you, Tavi," said Vinyl as we left the theater. I doubt we'll find anything else of interest before supper, but at least Vinyl is preventing my fears from getting the better of me. I just hope those fears don't become reality...