//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Digging Deeper // Story: Enigma // by steampunkwatchman //------------------------------// I put the phone down and tried to run the past twelve hours in my head. First I was fired upon (no pun intended) by some lunatic last night while seeing Miss Pie. After an exhausting run for my life and a brief Q&A session with Pinkie, I finally get some shut eye only to have Luna invade my dreams to ask for help in finding the ponies whose dreams she cannot enter (lucky bastards), and when I wake up, some smartass whose voice sounds like throat cancer calls and tells me to back off. I don’t even know what I was on, much less how to back off it. I think perhaps this villain is scared, why else would it send a hitmare and discount phone voice from The Ring to threaten me? It’s obvious that Luna’s inability to invade privacy is connected to the murders I’ve been investigating, or else there’s not one pony trying to kill me, but many, and I find it highly improbable that I’d have multiple hits out on me at once. No, it had to be one pony, and whoever it was, they were clever, connected, and had way too much free time on their hooves. Still, anonymous phone threats are for amateurs; something has him spooked. Putting pieces together in my head, it was plain to see that the murderer is the same pony whose dreams Luna cannot enter. What I couldn’t understand was what Little Strongheart might have had to do with it all, and why I was supposed to watch out for the carnivorous plant drink. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “What’s my next move?” I pondered aloud (I talk to myself sometimes). “I could go see Sunflower, but she’s in Canterlot, and probably pretty busy. Plus she was totally wrong about carnivorous plants, I haven’t seen those anywhere. Oh well, I guess I’ll go look for Little Strongheart. She’s been visiting Sweet Apple Acres a lot recently, so if she’s in town that’s where I’ll find her.” I landed softly on the ground, careful not to disturb the dogs, and made my way up to the house. Its shadow covered the whole farm, almost like a metaphor for the oppression it brought. Poor Big Mac could be seen, slaving away in the distance for a master whose greed knew no bounds. I walked straight ahead, up the trail to the manor, ignoring the No Trespassing and Violators Will Be Punished signs. I kept going, past the remains of an old clubhouse where innocent dreams once lived. The poor foals who once played there didn’t need it any longer; there was no time for dreams in the sweatshops. Past the clubhouse lay a barn, the most sinister building on the plantation, where the dark screeches of industrial machinery juxtaposed together to form the most ghastly song imaginable. That song heralded death for many a pony, not to mention dragons, griffons, or anything else that could somehow be coerced into labor. Finally I reached the steps and rang the bell to be answered by a young mare whose soul had been corrupted by power and big business. What started as a simple business venture turned into so much more. I snuck up around towards the back avoiding, the guard with ease. Peeking through the window, I got my first glimpse of how all these dangerous elements fit together. “No, you can’t have it!”, screamed a female voice, “That land is our home.” “You know the rules. You don’t pay the bills you don’t own the land.” said the monster who ruled the plantation. “On whose authority?” countered Strongheart. “Mine, of course,” responded the shell of the pony, gesturing to remind her guest of the mindless drones in the shadows with perpetual grins on their faces. “Wh- why are you doing this? We used be friends.” “Simple.” A grin began to spread across the monster’s face, the whole room darkening in the shadow of her menace, “I want your land, and I always get what I want. Will that be a… problem?” Oh God, I thought, Strongheart won’t get out alive unless I intervene. One of the goons pulled a bat from the shadows, and gripped it between it’s teeth, further disfiguring it’s already twisted smile. “Now deary, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been a problem, but I have a business to run, and businesses like mine cannot tolerate rogue elements.” Oh no, it’s happening. “Boys!” sang the monster with sadistic pleasure, “Play rough.” “No, please, no!” Strongheart wailed. Time was up. Time to do something stupid. I backed up, took a running leap, and hoped for the best. Crash! Glass flew everywhere blinding the goon with the bat causing him to drop it and spit shards of window from his stupid grinning mouth. I turned to Strongheart and, crap!, I couldn't fly with a buffalo. "Quick! This way!” I screamed over the alarms, and the hissing of the monster, stumbling back to it’s hooves. Gesturing to the window we jumped through and bolted down the hill. “Run!” I yelled as I saw swarms of dogs were released and drones came flying and galloping at us. We dodged magic blasts that scorched the ground with hate, and the teeth of beasts who knew nothing but of the thirst for blood. We ran through the forest, the prey of of instinct, running from the mighty hunter and his crude instruments of death. We ran and ran, I don't know how long, until a hut could be seen in the distance. I ran to the door and started banging on it as loud as possible. No sounds came from within, but the sounds behind were drawing closer. The dogs of war had been unleashed and they were closing in on our throats. “We are going to d-die, aren’t we?” Strongheart stuttered. “Not if I can help it miss.” I unfolded my wings to their full length, put my claws back and pulled out two small katanas. (I had katanas the whole time! I can be so forgetful!) “For every drop of blood they draw from me, I shall take twice from them!” I screamed, “So come at me you two bit horn-nosed pansies! Lets see whatcha got! I AM READY!”