Chapter One Hundred Thirty Eight
Chapter One Hundred Thirty Eight
Sergeant Sarsaparilla Root slowly trudged her way into the squad room, far too tired to muster the energy to yawn right now, or even fully open her eyes.
The steaming hot liquid that filled the cup currently clasped in her left wing and sloshing against its lid, presented her with absolutely no comfort and deserved to be arrested on charges of false ID for trying to pass itself off as being coffee. Between the late night hours, the early morning sickness, and the stress of the newly-christened "Tirek Cases" that they were all trying desperately to solve before it was too late, she was just about ready to kill for some genuine caffeine right now.
She knew that she shouldn't think and feel like that, but at the same time she didn't know if she had what it took to gaslight herself for nine more months into believing the decaffeinated swill she was forced to choke down was both real coffee, and enough to see her through the coming days.
But at the same time, she really didn't see what other choice she had in the matter. Too many ponies were counting on her bringing her A-game, and failure was simply not an option.
With that fact in mind she threw her head back to guzzle her drink down. And very nearly threw it right back up in the process. She might be able to gaslight herself, but her taste buds were another matter and couldn't be so easily tricked.
Not bothering further, she tossed the cup of swill in the closest garbage can on the way in.
And then she noticed Chomp sitting at his desk, looking as exhausted as she felt and keeping his head propped up with his left talon.
"Hey," she greeted as best she could as she trotted over.
"Hey," he mumbled and yawned, "you good to be here? You look rough."
"I can still do my job," she commented defensively, before deciding to change the subject. "How's our new friend doing?"
"He was still awake and studying at two in the morning when I finally had to get some shuteye for the night," Chomp replied, muttering something particularly impolite as he sat up a bit straighter in his chair to stretch his back.
Root legitimately winced in response. Ever since the reveal about who this guy was, and what he was doing here in their city, it'd been an intense, near-constant cram session not only for him, but also the rest of them. More than a few officers had gone to City Hall to request copies of all of the paperwork for Manehattan. Building blueprints, building permits, subway maps, sewer maps, utility maps, etc. Anything that would give even a hint as to where a creature the size of Princess Celestia could conceivably hide and skulk about undetected.
"That can't be healthy," she noted.
"It probably isn't," Chomp acknowledged. "Growing up, my parents in Griffonstone saw to it that I studied hard for all of my exams. But I've got nothing on this guy, he's like a machine. He's gone for hours without rest or refreshment, or even an inkling that he needs either while studying away. He's like a computer."
"A what now?" Root asked.
"Late into the evening, in-between cross-referencing and notations about the layout of Manehattan's infrastructure, he talked about how things were back where he came from. Over there they have devices called computers; machines that can be taught to learn how to perform complex calculations; like an abacus but far more advanced, to the point it's practically automated. Supposedly one of these machines could do what he's trying to do in a fraction of the time, if given the right commands and informed of what to exclude from the documents. The way he explained it, it could analyze the documents and exclude any structures that don't fit the right size parameters," Chomp explained.
"And you really believe that?" Root asked skeptically.
Chomp shrugged in response. "I believe it'd be arrogant to assume ponies and griffons have a firm grasp on every technological development beyond our borders. A player piano can be made to automatically perform a given song by reading a scroll with pre-punched holes in a specific sequence. We have morse code that conveys letters and numbers in a specific sequence of dots and dashes over the telegraph wires. Would it really be so fantastical to believe that some other race managed to take these concepts further than we have?"
For this, Root had no immediate answer. She hadn't walked in today, expecting a lecture on foreign technologies.
"Whatever. Has Mr. Magicless discovered anything that brings us any closer to solving these cases?"
"Nothing concrete yet. Most of the night was spent calculating out how much square footage would be needed for a creature the size of Princess Celestia to move around without detection. Which in turn is letting us narrow down the area we'll need to search to find Tirek; there's not really much sense looking for a centaur in a tunnel that's barely big enough for you or me to crawl through," Chomp explained.
"I suppose not," Root acknowledged and shrugged, still too tired to really get into this matter just yet. "So where does that put us?"
"I suppose back where we have been the past few days, until he's ready to take a tour of the city and get the layout of the locations he's studying. The maps aren't going to show him where there's road construction or debris that'd inhibit with travel and escape," he stated.
Root gave little more than a noncommittal grunt in response. Being a foalsitter and tour guide really wasn't what she'd had envisioned when she'd signed up to become a police officer.
But then again the occasional call for getting a cat down from a tree probably wasn't what firefighters signed up for either.
The precinct had plenty of cases to solve already, and more were undoubtedly going to be coming in today. She should be at her desk and working, but right now she just couldn't do that. Not without first getting some information.
And at the moment there was only one place to get the information she was looking for. That was interrogation room number two, which was currently serving as an ad-hoc office for the most terrifying individual currently in the entire station house.
The door stood open, practically inviting as it gave an unobstructed view of him sitting at the table, scanning over whatever documents were currently spread out before him.
A courtesy knock was given despite the door being open, before she made her way inside the room in a hesitant trot.
"Hey," she spoke up as she approached, even though it probably wasn't necessary after what they'd witnessed yesterday.
Pale bastard probably knew she'd been approaching before she'd even rounded the corner. Wouldn't surprise her in the least, given what they'd seen happen yesterday with his parlor tricks.
"Find anything worthwhile?"
"Nothing as of yet, aside from the elimination of numerous utility tunnels and passageways far too small for Tirek to move about in. Which in turn eliminates approximately one entire mile of area that would've otherwise need to be searched," he explained in a low and monotonous tone.
She whistled in response. Eliminating a mile of territory that'd otherwise have to be walked? She and her hooves were all for results like that.
But now, there were other pressing matters to tend to. Matters that warranted her walking around to the other side of the table that currently held stacks of paper, and rear up onto her hind legs to brace herself against said table.
"Was it really necessary to out me as pregnant to the entire squad room like you did yesterday?"
Previously, he hadn't shown any signs of even regarding her presence. But now he looked like he'd actually stopped what he was doing, and turned his attention to her.
"Ponies already think that I got this position thanks to nepotism, simply because I'm not as book-smart as others. I don't need them thinking I'm a fragile liability on top of everything else. Even now they're looking at me differently; I can feel it in their eyes. They're gonna try and reassign me to desk duty."
Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to say right now. But it'd been a worry that'd been on her mind ever since he'd shown up and shown off what he could do.
"I apologize."
She really hadn't expected to hear that; not from this cold character at least. And it'd been delivered so simply, she wasn't certain she'd actually heard him right at first.
"Admittedly, the matter could've been handled in a different fashion than what was done yesterday. There were several other options that would've theoretically worked just the same; such as identifying the species of the suspect in interrogation room one yesterday. But at the time it was the most straightforward and concise option available for emphasizing why I need the assistance of those more readily familiar with the city of Manehattan than I am."
Root's being at a loss for words really wasn't improving as the situation continued. She'd gotten both an apology, an admission of being wrong, and even an explanation behind the reasoning of the decision. That was all far more than she'd hoped for when she'd made the decision to walk in here just a couple of minutes ago.
How was it possible for somepo... for something to be so chill, polite, and still leave her feeling so unbalanaced after a simple exchange?
"Right..." she replied slowly, not sure how to respond to that. "So... did you plan on interviewing the victims at the hospital? To see if their accounts of events corroborate anything you're doing?"
"There would be no point in such an endeavor being undertaken," he explained, all the while keeping his focus on the sheets and documents before him. "The Manehattan Police Department has already seen to interviewing the victims, and performed any corroboration that could actually be performed under the given circumstances; as evidenced by the details below each of their photos on the whiteboard. My asking them any questions would serve no constructive benefit, and in fact would only serve to make the matter worse for everypony involved."
"... I'm not sure I follow," Root admitted, feeling lost as to what he was saying. "How would it make things worse?"
"The ponies of Manehattan aren't accustomed to my presence in the city; as evidenced by my arrest yesterday. To them I'm a frightful, disturbing entity that evokes fear on sight. If I walked into the hospital and began interrogating ponies who've already been through a harrowing experience, it would only cause them greater distress and worsen their conditions. To say nothing of what it would do to the staff working there. Even if I were accompanied by a police escort and introduced as a specialist, this still wouldn't serve to settle their unease," he explained calmly.
She thought about what he said, and couldn't deny that it made sense. He'd scared all of them just by being there yesterday, and they were all able-bodied ponies who had experience dealing with harrowing situations. She really didn't want to think of what he might do to a hospital full of ponies who weren't in that good of condition.
"Going by the reaction of your coworkers yesterday when informed about Tirek's possible involvement, it's reasonable to conclude one of two things. Either none of the victims saw anything that resembled a centaur at the time of their attack, or they did see him and simply have no recollection of such a development occurring, for whatever reason that may be. Perhaps having their magic drained serve to compromise their memory. Perhaps they believed it was a hallucination. Whatever the reasoning, they didn't report it, and there's no point subjecting them to further trauma via an interrogation to see if they're withholding details that would only serve to confirm what is already known."
Another good point that she'd missed. And one gathered simply by going from the brief responses of others? Whatever he was, he was good.
"Beyond that, the available time frame is simply too short to warrant wasting any of it in a fruitless endeavor. What time is available would be better served here, eliminating pointless possibilities so only genuine possibilities are left to investigate."
There was a hint of finality in that last point he'd just made, giving her the suspicion that he was done with both explaining the reasoning behind his actions, and demonstrating that his brain was working at a level that easily dwarfed theirs in terms of analytical thinking.
"... Is there anything that we actually can do to speed up this investigation? Or are we just going to get in your way?" she eventually asked.
He had no immediate response to her question. And the longer he went without verbally answering, it was enough to leave her feeling uneasy and wanting to leave. Had he merely said everything he'd felt needed to be said, and didn't see the point in communicating further?
"Should word of another victim come in, alert me to the development immediately. Tirek's trail may still be fresh enough to pick up on and track down."
She'd almost climbed down from the table before he'd spoken up. It paused her for a moment, before she followed through with the motion. At least now she had some idea of what they could do, even if it was just acting as a messenger service.
Before she could actually go back to her desk and get started on whatever pile of paperwork was waiting for her, there was a knock at the room's door.
"Better look alive, you two. The mayor's here, and he's not happy," the officer, Steel Feather, warned them.
"Oh no..." she sighed in response and groaned. "Well this can't be good. He never comes in this early in the morning."
Left unsaid was the fact their illustrious mayor never even got into his own office this early in the morning. So if he were coming down here, this early when normal ponies were getting into work, then he was probably furious and looking to ream Captain Stance a new one. Just like he did every other time he had a problem and wanted to vent to make himself feel better.
"Is it an election year?" the Espada asked.
"For a career politician who wouldn't know what to do out of office, when isn't it an election year?" she asked rhetorically.
The Espada said nothing in response. And instead left her watching at he slowly pushed his chair out, stood up, turned around, tucked his hands into his pockets, and strode out of the interrogation room.
She didn't know what was going on right now, or what was going to be going on, but she suspected it wasn't anything good. And she couldn't help but wonder just what she'd unintentionally set into motion.
Fear of the unknown dictated that she remain present and stay as far out of the line of whatever fire might be coming as possible. But curiosity, the other hoof...
Migraines weren't hereditary in Stalwart Stance's family. Seven generations back, not one member of the family tree ever had a history of being subjected to such a debilitating malady.
The obligatory headaches from work, certainly, but not migraines.
All that said, he was fairly certain that he was going to be an exception to that rule with how he was currently being hammered.
The couch in his office was old and well-broken in, and had seen him through many late nights on more cases than he wanted to think about. But it'd offered him no comfort last night in the wake of what exactly they were dealing with on these newly-deemed "Tirek Cases." He'd woken up stiff, sore, cranky, and more tired than he cared for. And his reward for putting in so many hours was being berated in his own office by one very irate mayor.
He sighed silently to himself, wanting to roll his eyes as he let things play out before him. Agustus Fetlock was not one to interrupt when he was going on a tirade, even though it was so tempting. Experience told him it was best to simply let the bulky earth pony get his screaming done, and then go on with the day with business as usual. He'd heard it all before anyway, so what could he possibly try and intimidate him with that hadn't been threatened already?
"I've got irate, frightened ponies at my door at all hours of the day! Whatever's going on has got the city paralyzed with fear! The public wants answers, and they want them right now!"
Still. It was far too early for all of this, and he was in a surly mood that left him with a short fuse and even less patience than usual. And the more the heavyset stallion pounded on his desk with his hoof, the shorter that fuse got.
His eyes fell on the bill fork currently sitting on his desk, playing host to several different pieces of paper that he needed to get to at some point. It would be so very bad if the vertical spike happened to suddenly find itself right under that hoof just as it was coming down for another slam; it'd probably puncture right through the frog behind the hoof, and come all the way through the other end of the foot before a scream of pain could be gotten out.
So very bad. But in his current mood, also very tempting to attempt and orchestrate.
"Do you have any idea just how badly this is threatening the tourist industry this city enjoys? The funding it gets from ponies coming in here all the time? If these cases aren't solved soon, we can kiss all of that goodbye! Budget deficits, quality of life declines, ponies fleeing in terror, it's all on the line! If the public doesn't feel safe, they're going to flock to whoever can make them think they'll be safe! Do you have any idea what that means!?"
"The city might actually get a mayor who'll allocate us an adequate budget, so we can do our job properly for once," he commented derisively, unconcerned with his companion's concerns.
It'd been the wrong thing to say right now, and he'd known it from the moment he'd opened his mouth and let it slip out. And now he was left to watch at the mayor's face went red with rage, as he bit at his lower lip while his left eye twitched as he tried to physically process his own fury. Idly he wondered if it was possible for the irate politician to hit a level of rage that would make him stroke out on the spot.
"Don't you try and be cute with me!" he bellowed furiously as he found his ability to talk again. "Lemme remind me of one very simple fact; you work for me! I can have you fired at the drop of a hat! Your entire department can be disbanded before lunch! And if I don't start seeing results soon, that's exactly what's going to happen; I'll clean this precinct out and get some police in here who actually know how to do their job and do it right!"
Stance's idle thought of orchestrating the bill fork finding its way under the mayor's hoof was abandoned, replaced by an urging to slap the irate stallion upside the head with his name plaque and emboss his name across his face.
To come into his office and threaten him was one thing. But to march into his station house and threaten those he worked with was another matter entirely, and one that he wouldn't stand for. If Fetlock wanted to do it the hard way, then they'd do it the hard way.
He slowly pushed himself up from his chair, ready to ream the bulky stallion a new one as payback for all the times he'd been shown the same courtesy, but never got that far. Had the barometric pressure suddenly shifted without them knowing? It felt like the air had suddenly grown a lot heavier.
Stance wasn't sure what exactly happened first. He had heard the Espada's voice as he stood in the doorway of the office, standing there in a rather dark and menacing fashion. And he was fairly certain that what he'd felt a moment ago had been its approach.
He watched as the mayor turned around at hearing his name spoken, and immediately seized up and tried to breathe through his nose at seeing who -and what- was addressing him.
"I'll be blunt and get straight to the point, so even you can understand what I'm saying. Get out."
Stance opted to simply quietly sit back and observe rather than interrupting as the Espada took on the task of addressing the no-longer irate mayor. The bluntness of his opener went a long way to suggesting that he didn't need any help in making whatever point he was trying to make.
"I have not slept in more than twenty-four hours since I first arrived. Everyone in this precinct is presently working as hard as they can on this particular matter, even pulling double shifts. And your presence is doing absolutely nothing to assist any of us in that endeavor."
He spoke in a firm, monotone way of address, never once raising his voice, but all the same delivering his words in a manner that carried a weight behind them. A weight that felt almost physical, as if they were somehow spatial and could disrupt the air itself around them. This was... this was something that went beyond a mere commanding presence, and filled with him curiosity as to what might've been behind it.
One quick exercising of the spectrographic sight spell served to give him his answer. And he honestly didn't believe what he was seeing.
Invisible to the naked eye, but currently on full display through the magical filter he was looking through, was a green, dark, borderline miasmic aura being projected from the Espada's body as he slowly stepped through the doorway and into the office. Thick, and heavy, and oppressive like smog.
"You are serving to be a hindrance that we don't need. We don't have the time to devote to resolving your petty tirades. Every minute that must be spent addressing your infantile demands for results being pulled out of thin air simply because you want them, is another minute we are deprived of for getting to the bottom of this matter. There are ponies far more important than yourself to be thinking about right now. Having to wait your turn won't kill you."
The aura was flaring as the Espada spoke. And if he were a betting stallion, he'd put a few bits on it reflecting the emotional fury that was currently being kept out of the voice. It was really kicking up as he went on, flaring almost like it was a bonfire and expanding outward in a manner that almost made him duck down behind his own desk.
But then he noticed something that made it worse. The aura wasn't flaring like an uncontrolled fire, it was... far more organized than that. It was actually taking shape. A shape like... giant ethereal bat wings protruding out from his back as he stood there.
What... what was this thing!?
Maybe Sergeant Root really had been right about him being the Lord of Tartarus.
"Your standing here, screaming for results like a petulant child is actively preventing us from working. If you want results faster, then either grab a stack of documents and start familiarizing yourself with the specifics of these cases, or get out of the precinct and let us get back to our investigation. Otherwise you leave me no choice but to submit a formal complaint directly to Princess Celestia herself. A complaint that will detail not only your abusive behavior towards the public servants of the city, but also your direct interference with their work on an ongoing investigation. How do you think she will respond, after being informed of the petty tyranny that was observed here today, and has to come investigate it for herself?"
Stance honestly didn't know if Fetlock was even listening, or catatonic from fear at the moment. The stallion hadn't said a word the entire time, and not even a squeak had been heard from him as the Espada slowly stepped closer.
"I will say it one last time, and only one last time. Get out," he stated, a note of finality in his voice.
Whatever non-magical spell the Espada had been weaving that kept Fetlock rooted to the floor was broken, as the burly earth pony quickly galloped his way out of the room, staying as far away as physically possible as he exited the doorway at a pace that hadn't been seen in a very long time, outside of making his way to a photo op.
Without a word, the oppressive aura faded, almost like it was tucked away and sucked back into the Espada's body from whence it came.
"What-" Stance started as he spell faded, returning his eyes to their normal hue. "What was that just now?"
"Politicians are an unnecessary nuisance, so I dealt with him," the Espada stated simply.
"That's not what I meant," he replied, even though he'd agree with that sentiment wholeheartedly. "What was with the..." he fumbled for the appropriate words, trying to gesture with his hooves to convey his thoughts. "You had an aura just a second ago when you were chewing Mayor Fetlock out."
"Strange. Most ponies don't see that," the Espada commented, but didn't elaborate further. "Everything will be explained, once Tirek is found and apprehended. Until then, time remains of the essence."
Stance tried to object and make it clear he needed answers. But his protests died in his throat as the Espada turned and walked away, seemingly done with his current business and having no interest in continuing further.
Out of all the times he'd been subjected to disrespect from others, casually being given the brushoff like that had to be one of the weirdest examples he'd ever experienced firsthoof.
And then the smell in his room hit his nostrils like fire.
Almost anypony who actually belonged in the squad room was currently present, seated at their desk and at least attempting to look like they were actually doing work. Anypony who would arguably have a good reason to be in the squad room at the moment was presently standing at the desk of a coworker and doing their best to look like they belonged there right now, rather than out pounding the pavement with their hooves.
They had all had the misfortune of being present when the city's mayor had stormed in and started yelling at Captain Stance, stuck between the rock and hard place situation of sticking up for their boss and putting themselves in the line of fire and being reprimanded, or minding their own business and keeping themselves safe.
And then they felt the approach of the Espada before they actually heard him making his way into the squad room from wherever he'd been. And without him even saying a word, without asking about what was going on, he proceeded straight to the Captain's office as his presence grew more and more oppressive.
The fact that he didn't raise his voice to shout was both a surprise, and an annoyance because it made successive eavesdropping a lot more difficult to pull off.
Hardly an ear wasn't pivoted towards the door, straining to pick up the one-sided conversation that was being had as the mayor was taken to task, and pretty much straight up threatened with repercussions if he remained. All the while Fetlock couldn't even get a word of objection in edge-wise.
By the time the Espada had stopped talking, the mayor was galloping out of the office, and out of the squad room, as fast as his legs could move his pudgy self.
"Did that actually just happen?" Glacier asked in a whisper, not sure he really believed it.
"Looks like," Chomp replied, "the mayor finally met something he couldn't push around."
The Espada had just done, by himself, what so many of them had dreamed of doing on their own for so long, by putting that pompous politician in his place. What's more, he did it all without putting any of their necks on the line.
And after doing just that, he walked out of the office with his hands tucked into like a total boss.
Adversarial though their working partnership might be, what he had just done had been appreciable; even a bit enviable since he'd gotten away with it. And thunderous applause -as well as a couple of hoots of support- from those present for what was done seemed like an appropriate response to give after what they'd just witnessed go down.
And then Captain Stance came out of the office with a stern look on his face.
"Alright, alright, knock it off!" he called firmly. "We've still got a lot of work that needs to be done. And somepony get me janitorial up here. Our "friend" here scared the mayor so bad he pissed on my office floor!"
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Yeah, the dreaded "extra mile" to smooth things up, only to smudge everything up instead and spending three times the original time. Am I right ?
As someone who has the bad habit of being perfectionist, my father always reminds me with this saying: "Minimum effort, for maximum result."
11759552
Ain't it the truth.
I am shocked this story is s till being worked on it's been in progress for so long man. Don't get me wrong not complaining just saying what are the odds
Nice chapter. I like how the mayor came in and tried to start a dick measuring contest, but then in walked a guy using his as a belt.
Hah, that's what every pompous politician deserves! Ulquiorra commented on not sleeping, I thought he did not have to sleep?
11760130
I can't very well let Oda have all the fun.
11760243
That's Ulquiorra for you.
11760565
He doesn't need to sleep. Hence he was telling the mayor the truth when he said he hasn't slept since arriving to work on the case.
Always a great day when Ulquiorra gets to flex on the idiots of the world. And as the mayor felt very similar to J. Jonah Jameson from Spiderman's world, it felt a little more than cathartic. Although, with that show of power via letting his reiatsu out to play, I wonder if Ulquiorra managed to get a certain centaurian mana-vampire's attention.
May your muse never fail you.
11760759
Ah, gotcha, is the mayor's favorite food asparagus? Why does his piss stink so bad? May be gross, but the last time I checked piss only has a pungent odor depending on the food you eat or if their is a problem with your kidneys. Maybe he's an alcoholic?
Y'know, it occurs to me that Ulquiorra never got around to prying Discord for answers as to why his Descorrer ability doesn't work in Equestria.
11788999
No, he really hasn't yet.
Llego tarde, pero finalmente pude leer este capítulo más reciente y lo disfrute mucho, gracias por actualizar , esta historia es de mis favoritas.
11822392
Hope this comes through right.
Lo único que lamento es no poder actualizar la historia tan rápido como me gustaría, pude hacerlo durante el primer año de producción,
Gotta love that catharsis and the potential hilarity that comes with it.