• Published 23rd Oct 2013
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How to Tell Your Friends You're Dating a Changeling - Infinite Carnage



Rainbow Dash has a confession to make. But she doesn't really know how to explain herself.

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The Usual Suspects

Author's Note:

Before this chapter begins, I want to apologise again for its lateness. I honestly did not anticipate this section taking so long to complete. Time has been running away from me lately. I blink and a whole week has passed. Rest assured, story is not dead and this will be finished! Hope you guys like this one, let me know in the comments below.

Of the three faces that Question Mark wore, this was easily the Monarch’s favourite. Daedalus had grown accustomed to his most common mug, the quiet and awkward intellectual who’s every relationship he seemed to stumble into. His rarest was the daring rulebreaker, driven beyond reason to solve any mystery before him, but this was by far his best; the detective. The calculating, authoritarian, ruthless private eye who allowed nothing and nopony to stand in his way. It was always a thrill to watch him work, and he had front row tickets for what now seemed to be an evening none of them would soon forget.

Question Mark snapped straight into gear. He sprinted to the opposite end of the room and blocked off the entrance, making sure nopony dared make a sudden retreat. The rogues gallery was before him, a colourful cast of characters who stood in varying states of shock and panic across the room. He noted all their positions for future reference, made easier by the fact they were all frozen in place like statues. The only one to break out from this menagerie was the Baron himself, who took a few steps towards the portrait and gasped in horror. He looked about ready to cuss up a storm.

“Who would dare!?”

Some of the ponies in attendance clearly wanted to be anywhere else right now, but as they craned their heads towards the only way out, Question was still planted firmly in the way. Anypony who made any gesture towards him, his eyes would fixate on, killing any notion that they might be able to leave the room.

“This painting is over a thousand years old!!”

The Baron’s wailing grew ever louder, but the detective drowned him out, instead focusing on his next move. Everypony before him was a suspect. The crime took place within a period of time that could not have been more than ten seconds. The room was large, making sprinting in and out quickly enough very difficult, ignoring the fact you’d be running in the dark as well so seeing where you are going would be a nightmare. Theoretically, one could have teleported in and out, however, that would cause a flash of light and make one a huge target. There was no way around it; somepony in the gallery committed the crime.

“Call the guard!” He shouted out down the hallway towards two of the baron’s personal security. They did as they were told, running off in the opposite direction.

“Quest?” Rainbow appeared before him, Scootaloo in tow. They were the only two to dare approach him. “What are you doing?”

“Stay in the room, Rainbow.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a suspect now. I need you to stay with the others.”

“Suspect!?” Rainbow announced in a mix of surprise and offence, inadvertently garnering everypony else's attention.

“All of you listen well!” Question announced loudly, making sure they all heard him clearly. “I want every one of you to line up in the middle of the room. No pony is going anywhere.”

Rainbow looked ready to argue, but Scootaloo tugged at her tail, leading her back inside. The others looked at one another, unsure if they should follow, until a rich looking stallion stepped forward.

“And why should we listen to you?” His voice grated on the detective’s ears. It was the definition of snooty, formed over years of pampering and reinforced by his lack of self-awareness. “Under whose authority do you work for?”

“My own!” He snapped back faster than anypony had been prepared for. “If you have an issue with that, then I get what I need from you the hard way. I’m getting to the bottom of this now, so line-up!”

Like a wounded animal, he skulked off to the centre of the room, doing as he was told. With his will shattered, it did not take long for the others to follow. The only one not to budge was Baron Fiet, who had collapsed onto the floor in front of the painting. He returned to life however, when Noctis brushed past him.

“You!? It was you!” He exclaimed.

“I beg your pardon?” Noctis replied, dumbfounded at the sudden accusation.

“You were the one closest to it. To think, the refined Noctis is nothing more than a filthy vandal-”

“Silence!” She bellowed back. Her shout was unnaturally loud for one of her size. “You dare throw these accusations at me!? You think I would defile such a work of art?”

“Right, enough of that.” Question Mark emerged between them. “Did I stutter? Centre of the room now.”

The pair looked angrily at one another, before joining the line, making sure to put themselves on opposite sides. Question Mark looked again at the portrait, focusing on the moustache. Permanent marker; while not impossible to remove, it would be tricky. Still, it was very doable, especially with the kind of staff that would work in such a palace. While a guess, he was certain there was an entire division that specialized in restoration and upkeep. Yet that only made the crime more confusing.

It was such a pointless act. If you wish to defile the painting, why not destroy it? And if this was just a terrible prank, why go to the lengths one would to defile this specific painting? Again, as he stared at it, he could feel something off about it all. Something wasn’t quite right about the portrait. He was pulled away once more as he felt something prod his foreleg. Scootaloo looked up at him in anticipation.

“Everypony is lined up,” she said.

“Ordinarily I’d say you need to get in line too,” he muttered loud enough for her to hear. He gave her a raised eyebrow as she suddenly looked down at the floor. “But if you were behind this, then you must REALLY hate art, huh?” He sighed as he nudged her forward. “Looks like you’re my partner for the moment. C’mon.”

The filly beamed brightly as she proudly trotted beside him. Question Mark patrolled down the line of suspects before reaching Baron Fiet who’s scowl had only grown more distorted with each passing second.

“Can we not simply wait for the guard? They can arrest that vandal down there and-”

“Not a chance, we’re in a unique situation here. Every possible suspect is trapped in the room already. At least one of you is behind this. Not a single one of you is leaving my sight.”

“So why am I here?”

“I cannot rule you out as the culprit.”

“What!?” His jaw nearly crashed to the floor. “Me? The culprit? You’re so dense that you think I would deface my own gallery?”

“First of all, yes, I do. You’re clearly unstable, the second you felt yourself lose control of the room, you lashed out and dropped this carefully constructed facade you present to all your guests. While that would suggest you are indeed upset about the painting, it doesn’t reveal all your intentions, nor does it absolve you of guilt. This too could be a facade, another lie you're presenting to everypony at the expense of your reputation. Second, stop spitting when you speak.”

Fiet went red faced in a mix of anger and embarrassment and kept his focus firmly on the floor. Question ignored him and took a step down the line, coming face to face with his marefirend who still seemed a little sore over being treated like a common criminal.

“But why would anypony deface Luna’s painting?” She asked.

“That is exactly what we need to find out.” He looked her up and down. “What do you make of Luna?”

“Me?”

“You fought her, did you not?”

“Well y-yeah…” She could feel a bead of sweat trickle down her forehead. The room suddenly grew strangely hot and stuffy. “But that’s when she was Nightmare Moon. She’s totally cool now.”

“No lingering feelings of anger?”

“Heck no!”

“I heard a story a little while back about her pranking you before you could get her back? Not bitter about that?”

“Hey! She got lucky! If I hadn’t been busy getting pinkie’s head out of that bobbing apple barrel…” She caught herself as her cyan coat briefly faded into a ghostly white. “I mean… nope.”

He stared her down, his eyes wholly uncharacteristic for the stallion she had come to know. He let off a small ‘hmm’ before looking away again.

“It’s a weak motive anyway.” He took a step to the right, causing Rainbow to let out a sigh of relief. She noted the Squirt following behind her coltfriend, eyeing her up as well, mimicking his movements. If she wasn’t so anxious right now, Rainbow would have found it cute.

Question Mark approached a stallion he did not know, but like many others, had stuck out to him before. Like the Baron he had clearly come from money, but had made a show of presenting his wealth to the world. The suit that had initially seemed so pricey though, on closer inspection, looked almost cheap in comparison. His cutie mark was a spinning void of golden bits; as if they were being flushed down a drain.

“Who are you?” He asked stiffly.

“I sir? Count Cash. Petty Cash. You should be grateful.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I generally don’t find myself addressing the common folk.”

“Charming…”

“That I am. I humbly apologise for the state of this affair. I hope your tour of my museum has been enjoyable thus far-”

“Your museum?”

“YOUR MUSEUM!?” Fiet screeched.

“Yes, my museum! I funded its reconstruction, I bought supplies-”

“You bought cheap material I wouldn't use to fix my servants latrine. Your contract was terminated months ago.”

“After you took my money! This is as much my museum as it is yours!”

“You had a hoof in this museum’s reconstruction?” Question spoke up quickly, catching the count’s attention again.

“That I did. Even the great Baron Fiet could not finance this museum's renovation all on his own. That is where I came in.”

“And he cut you out of the deal before it was finished?”

“After he had swindled my bits, yes.”

“You broke your end of the contract!” Fiet exclaimed again. “You cut corners and supplied cheaper building material than was required. TWICE! The courts already ruled in my favor. Do I have to get a restraining order as well!?”

“What of my money!? I demand satisfaction, sir!”

Question could not quite believe what was occurring before him. Never before had a suspect revealed a potential motive so quickly. In a matter of moments, Petty had made himself suspect number one. Still, despite his motive, he seemed rather... Dull, for lack of a better word. This was a calculated attack, one that had to have been planned for some time. While Petty had the motive, his ability was another thing entirely.

Quietly he moved on to the next suspect as the bickering pair ranted on. This was the mare in the garrish hoodie, the one that had stuck out to him before. He could now make out a sign on the front of said hoodie, an old world signia for the golden suns. Once a prominent cult that worshipped Celestia and vilified Luna to a fanatical degree. At their peak they were often referenced as one of the causes of the night Princess’ madness. Mere days after her banishment, the group vanished as well. It was as if they had been eradicated entirely. Yet references to their imagery had survived through the millenium, they even started a little comeback with Luna’s return.

The detective could not hold back his amusement at who existed underneath the dark clothing; a fresh faced teen with bloodshot eyes, topped off with heavy set bags under each. She had a light blue coat and a chalk white mane, styled in a way that barely covered one eye. The hoodie was so long and ill fitting it covered her cutie mark entirely. She scowled at him as if she was holding back a flurry of insults. He smirked back.

“And who are you supposed to be?”

“No one.” She responded simply. Her voice was deeper than one might expect.

“Well, no one, you’ve seemed out of place from the get go.” She held her tongue, somehow scowling at him further. “Nice hoodie, but I’d be careful of the type of ponies you’re hanging out with.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing, no one, just take some free advice, eh?”

“I don’t need advice from a filthy loyalist.”

“Ah, you see, there’s the folly of youth. Someone a little wiser, a little more experienced perhaps, would have known when to reel in their misplaced anger. All you’ve done is put a big old spotlight on yourself.” He heard her growl under her breath, but it did not deter him. “So, no one, let's try this again. What’s your name?”

“... Crush.”

“Crush?”

“Blueberry Crush.”

“Well, Crush. How did you find yourself here tonight?”

“Walked through the door.”

Question Mark gave her a deadpanned look and breathed through his nose, bringing a smirk out of her.

“Let me rephrase; why did you come here tonight?” She remained quiet, so Question continued. “Now some folk would see your top, see the defacement of Princess Luna, put two and two together, and call for your blood. Tad extreme, but ponies are like that. So again, why did you come here, Blueberry?”

For the briefest moment, her uncovered eye betrayed her. She looked towards the end of the line, where Count Fiet was staring at her in unabashed amazement. When he noticed Question meet his gaze, he reeled himself back in, but it was too late, these two were linked as well. Still, the young mare stayed quiet. It would be pointless to push her any further, better to let things play out for now.

“We’ll continue this later then,” he said, moving on. Again, Scootaloo threw a mean glare towards Blueberry, who wasn’t shy at giving back as good as she got.

As the staring match broke out beside him, the detective regarded the two gentlecolts that stood strangely close together. Both looked to be somewhere between their fifties and sixties, wore matching pastel suits, and both wore a monocle over their right eye. The one on his left was a more portly fellow, filling out his suit nicely. His mane curly and his jaw unnaturally square. He had a light brown coat and a dark brown mane, topped off with a pair of hazelnut eyes. On his flank was a pantomime mask with a large grin. The fellow on the right was much taller and slimmer, a more pointed and jagged individual. He had dark grey fur and a black mane, with steely blue eyes. On his flank was a similar mask, instead frowning deeply.

“Now I know what you’re about to say?” The rounder stallion said. “Who might you two be?”

“Well we have nothing to hide here, sonny. We’re just two art aficionado’s out for an evening stroll.” The thinner one continued.

“Unfortunately we have a dinner reservation in the next hour. Luckily-”

“We can still make it if we leave now. Won’t you help us kind sir?” They beamed at him expectantly, but they were met with a firm stare.

“... Nice try,” was all Question Mark needed to say, to deflate the two stallions before him. “What are your names?”

“Blabber Mouth,” announced the left stallion.

“Tattle Tale,” said the other.

“Now I already noted that you two came in together. For what reason were the pair of you here this evening?”

“I was taking my husband here out for our anniversary,” Blabber explained, motioning to his partner.

“Oh it's been a wonderful day so far. Such a pity this has upheaved it all,” Tattle continued.

“We had won some tickets for the show tonight and we were about to finish up here-”

“Then the lights went out and I’m sure you know the rest.”

“I noticed the pair of you eyeing the art pieces earlier, would you both hold yourselves to the statement that you're fine art conasaurs?.”

“Oh of course, myself especially.” Blabber blabbered on.

“Truly?”

“Why yes, my husband is practically an expert on the matter,” Tattle tattled on.

“Okay, so what era of art is your favourite?”

The air was sucked out of the room swiftly. Blabber and Tattle tightened their lips and held in their breaths as what had just been said dawned upon them. They shared a quick glance at the other, before breathing again.

“Pardon?” Tattle squeaked out.

“Well art is often sectioned off by eras. Different techniques and styles tend to dominate each. So, Mr. Blabber Mouth, is there a particular time in Equestria’s long history that speaks to you? As an art lover, of course.”

Again, the peculiar pair stared gormlessly at the detective. Blabber went to say something several times, but just before anything came out he quickly reeled himself back in. It was not until a whole minute passed of little more than ‘um’s’ and ‘ah’s’ that he finally said something substantial.

“… Ready sauce.”

“I beg your pardon?” Question was genuinely unsure if he heard the portly stallion correctly. Tattle had though, and slapped his own hoof across his muzzle.

“Ready sauce is my favourite era.”

The detective found himself staring again, but this time in genuine confusion. He had not a clue as to what Blabber was referring too. But taking a moment to consider how the words sounded phonetically, the answer quickly became clear.

“Do you mean ‘The Renaissance?’”

“Yes, that’s what I said!” Blabber suddenly became defensive.

“No you did not. You said ready sauce.”

“No! I said ren... I mean Renass... I mean…”

“I’m sorry to inform the pair of you, but you’re both very poor liars.” Question stated flatly, already finished with the conversation. “You two are staying right where you are. Don’t you even think about running away.”

Both stallions looked angrily at the other, muttering under their breath. Question ignored them both and simply moved down the line. Once again, Scootaloo followed close behind and glared at the pair, silencing them both. Finally, Question had come to the last pony he did not know, but one look over her told him nearly everything he needed to know.

Striking was the first word that came to mind; from her hot pink coat to her electric blue mane, her sparkling horseshoes to her slick black dress, every part of this mare had been designed to stand out. She fluttered her eyelashes and curled her lips as Question approached. This dame was trouble, he knew that for certain. He had dealt with many of her type, the kind that could lead you off a bridge with false promises of a better tomorrow. He knew he had to be careful.

“Howdy, Sugar,” She greeted him. “What can little old me do for you?”

“You can start with your name.”

“Sweet Nothings. Pleasure to meet you.” She raised a hoof for Question to take, but he left her dangling. She did not react angrily though, instead, she gave Question a wry smile before placing it back down. “Looks like I’ll have to work a little harder on you.”

“That you will,” he replied, clearing his throat. Noting the pair of blue lips on her flank. It looked like stained lipstick. “So let’s get to the point shall we? What brought you here this evening.”

“I will make no secret to you, Detective. My interest in art is non-existent. I have come here instead for business related reasons only.”

“And what would they be?”

“Confidential, you understand of course? My discussions with Baron Fiet is between us and only us.” She leant forward and looked down the line, directly at Counter. “But of course, he has the choice of making it public any time he wishes.”

Fiet suddenly looked deathly ill. He broke out into a sweat and kept his gaze focused only on what was ahead of him. But his eyes were threatening to bug out of his skull as his breathing grew harsher and harsher by the second.

“He’s always been a silly goose,” Sweet explained. “Gets himself worked up over things that simply don’t matter.”

“And I get the feeling you're a big factor in that,” Question cut in.

“Quite possibly.”

“You don’t deny it?”

“Again, my ‘relationship’ with the Baron is between us… for now. As long as he keeps his side of our arrangement, we have no worries so to speak.”

“And has he?”

“Not recently, no. Thus my surprise visit tonight. Doesn’t he look happy to see me?” Question looked over towards the Baron again, who looked ready to flop to the floor and die on the spot. “He’s such a character.”

“That’s one word for him. And you wouldn’t consider a spot of vandalism to be a sufficient threat, would you?”

“Do I look like a vandal to you?”

“You look like many things, most not appropriately said in pleasant conversation.”

“So hostile!” She said with a laugh. “So much tension. You need to work that out.” She stepped up to him, nearly causing the detective to step back. He held firm though as her muzzle was centimeters away from his.

Down the line, Rainbow watched on with malice in her eyes. She never felt these feelings of envy so strongly before, and certainly never in a manner like this. Daedalus watched on as well with unbridled amusement, knowing exactly how this would end. Question turned from her and avoided her gaze.

“I’m good, thank you. Whatever you’re hiding, I will find out before the end of this night. I promise you that.”

He walked on without another word, Sweet never letting him out of her sight. The Wonderbolts were next on the list. Question had nearly forgotten that Spitfire and Soarin were here considering how strangely quiet they had been. Spitfire came across as the kind of mare who would have argued the detective to death on any accusation, yet here they were, patiently waiting their turn like good little soldiers. With how flashy they were, you would be forgiven for forgetting they were still a military branch and had to act accordingly.

“Evening, you two. Unfortunate we meet again in these circumstances,” Question began. “As per everypony else though, you two are under suspicion as well.”

“Fair enough,” Spitfire replied. “Can’t rule out any possibility.”

“Obviously I know why the pair of you are here on an official basis; you were invited for prestige and partially in place of royalty. However, why the two of you exactly?”

“Well unless I have a prior engagement, I have always made a point to attend these things. Lead by example is what I say. They wanna see Wonderbolts? They get the best representative; the Captain. Soarin has been my wingpony since the start, so he always tags along if he can.”

“Is it usually just the pair of you?”

“Sometimes more, depends on the event I suppose. Bigger it is, more of us attend, and of course we’re all there if we’re set to perform. Most of the other bolts are on leave though after our tour got cut short, so just us tonight.”

“Cut short?

“It’s not important,” Spitfire deflected, and quickly changed the subject. “Still, nice to see a change of pace for once. Tonight’s shaping up to be a crazy one. Been a while since we’ve been suspects in a crime.”

“Wouldn’t that be a crazy headline?” Soarin spoke up. “‘Famed Wonderbolt caught defacing royalty.’ They’d chew us alive for that.”

“We don’t need to give the press any more ammunition against us, Soarin. They have plenty already.”

“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to press both those points, because I’m starting to suspect they’re related.” Question’s tone grew more serious. “You don’t just cancel remaining tour dates for no reason, and what’s this about the press hounding you?”

“HEY!” Rainbow fired out of the line so quickly it caused Question to jump on on the spot. “The hay are you doing!? How could you accuse the wonderbolts of anything except being awesome!?”

“I haven’t accused them of anything,” Question tried to explain. “I’m asking-”

“Good, then move on! Cause that Sweet Whateverherlastnameis is super sus and-”

“Settle down, Rookie!” Spitfire barked out. Rainbow went straight into a salute as she gawked at her idol. “We don't need a wet behind the ears cadet standing up for us. This is a serious matter, and we'll deal with it ourselves. Get your flank back into line on the double!”

“Yes, mam.” Rainbow returned as fast as she came in, looking notably more sheepish than before.

“I take it you don’t keep up with the news?” Spitfire asked the Detective.

“Not as much as I should.”

“Well all I ask is you hear the whole story out first before making any decisions, okay?”

“I always do.”

“Have you ever heard of the Shadowbolts?”

In the history of Equestria, the Wonderbolts had been around far longer than most ponies realised. When Celestia and Luna both first took the throne, they each implemented a special task force in their name. Celestia first made the royal guard, while Luna then made the Shadowbolts, an exclusively run pegasi and thestral task force. When a civil war broke out, Celestia countered Luna’s forces with the Wonderbolts, and the rest was history. The shadowbolts fell into legend, while the Wonderbolts would inevitably grow and drift from their original purpose.

“That I have. Making a mini comeback I heard?”

“Should’ve stayed back if you ask me,” grumbled Soarin.

“Soarin!” Spitfire warned, shooting him a glare. “Yes, they are making a comeback. One we were never warned about.”

“Warned about?”

“Like us they’re becoming show ponies, while keeping direct ties as an official military branch. We knew they were being rebuilt, but none of us were ready when they showed up at the last minute for a ‘collaborative’ performance. They were good, I had to give them that, but they had little synergy with us.”

“It was a disaster,” Soarin grumbled again. “Didn’t listen to a damn thing they were told. Kept trying to show off and-”

“Celestia made it abundantly clear it was on all of us,” Spitfire cut off her wing pony. “It was the princesses idea. It was reunification day, and they wanted our groups to get along for a special show. Me and their Captain rubbed wings the wrong way. Were both bullheaded, it was never gonna end well. With more time we could’ve worked out the kinks and settled our differences, but after the test show, not only did Luna cut short the Shadowbolts run, but our tour as well.”

“She has that power?” The detective tried to clarify.

“Apparently so. Said we all needed to take a long break. Maybe she thought she was doing us a favor, quite frankly I wish she had done just about anything else.”

“The captain here was literally spitting fire for days. I’ve never seen her that angry before.”

“Thank you for throwing me under the bus further, Soarin, I think they might have missed crushing my wings as well.” Spitfire shot him another glare. Her wingpony proceeded to shove his hoof into his mouth, leaving it there to shut himself up for good. “Look, before you say anything, yes I was mad. I have not missed a single show since I became captain, I pride myself on making sure every performance was a success. I felt like I was set up to fail, and to have the rest of the tour pulled was the killing blow. And now I bet you think that gives me the motive to deface that painting?”

“It’s a prized piece, and as I understand it, it's also one of the oldest depictions of Princess Luna that still exists. I don’t know you, not really. I know the public perception of Captain Spitfire, but the mare behind the name could be anything. So yes, you are a suspect. Doesn’t make you guilty, and perhaps it's all too spiteful for a pony like you, but who can say really? Only time will tell.”

The detective turned away as if to say the conversation was over. Spitfire eyed him wearily, for the first time she showed a genuine concern for her predicament, something her biggest fan spotted as well. Nearing the end of the line, Question Mark encountered a now familiar face, Gulliver. The Griffon stood at attention, waiting for the detective to make the first move. His face was utterly blank, not betraying a single thought locked away inside his head.

“Hello again,” Question began.

“Evening,” Gulliver greeted back. “Quite the turn of events.”

“That they are, so let's get to it then. Where did you go off to after we finished talking?”

“As I said, I did a once over of the room. Was about to leave when the bleeding lights shut off.”

Question thought back to the position of the room when the lights came on. As he said, Gulliver was the closest to the exit, but strangely he had walked further in when he noticed the state of the portrait. Most others had quickly looked towards the way out, the griffon had done the exact opposite. By the time Question had launched himself towards the entrance way, Gulliver had reached the other end of the room.

“Why did you go up to the painting? Why not take your leave?”

“Not much point in that, is there?” Would only make me look guilty, besides, seeing that old girl in that way…” He trailed off while looking over towards the defaced portrait, his face still unreadable throughout. “It hurt my soul.”

“Going back to your comment on the lights, you’ve worked here long enough, you must have some insight as to why the power cut out like that. Any natural cause?”

“Power cuts can happen all the time, but we got back up generators for that. Place just got renovated so some muppet could have done a cowpony job with the electrics. But you and I both know the real answer, don’t we?

“Somepony prepared for this outcome. They rigged the lights to go out just long enough for them to be free to do what they please.”

“Don’t know how they managed it, but I suspect somepony fiddled with the fusebox in the security room.”

“You know where that is?”

“Course I do. Not like I’ve been here for more than two decades.”

By all logical reasoning, there was little reason to suspect Gulliver at all. He had no clear motive and had been helpful from the beginning. Strangely, this made him all the more suspect. To Question Mark he was almost too calm and collected about the whole thing, as if everything was playing out exactly as he had planned it to. He held his tongue on this point though, and allowed things to play out accordingly.

“I’ll follow that up with you soon then, but first of all…” Question walked up towards Noctis who gave him a doe-eyed gaze. She had been silent the entire time, patiently waiting her turn. He felt himself in awe of her regal presence, looking into her eyes he saw wisdom and experience well beyond her years. The mare was a wonder indeed.

“Good evening, detective.” She greeted him with a short curtsy. “Forgive my hesitation, this is new ground for me.”

“Understandable, you’re a bit of a recluse, or so I’ve heard?”

“Verily. I’ve been practically stranded until a few years prior.”

“Why come out tonight then?”

“I have been making a point to explore the world more. It’s been many moons for me since I went out this often, and tonight’s exhibit has a special connection for me.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“It’s hard to say, truthfully. Some of these works I have only heard of in passing, and a few others have existed in my mind for far longer than I wish to say. Something drew me here, and I could not escape its call.”

There was silence between them for a moment. Ordinarily that would mean Question Mark was done with the conversation, yet he made no attempt to move. He felt a weight pushing against him as he remained in her vicinity, a being far stronger than he could ever hope to be ready for. He took a shallow breath as he regarded her once more. He felt no ill will or hate, no malicious intentions whatsoever. Noctis Moon simply seemed like a mare caught up in a situation far bigger than her.

“I will ask this once and only once; is there anything that you are keeping from me?”

“No.” She answered a little too quickly.

“As you might understand, it does not look good for you. You were the closest to the portrait, you are the pony with the best opportunity to have defaced the painting. There is no immediate clear motive, yet that does not mean you don’t have one. I will be keeping my eyes on you.”

Question Mark turned away in earnest and made his way back down the line, regarding each suspect in turn once more. Daedalus stayed at the spot where the detective had left, staring down at Noctis in genuine confusion. He knew her. He could not place her, or even understand where this feeling had come from, but he was certain he knew this mare very well indeed.

“So one of you has committed a petty act of vandalism today,” Question announced on his short journey down the line-up. “And while it is far from the worst crime one can commit, to deface such a priceless work of art is not something one can ignore. Each of you is hiding things from me, and I promise you, they will not remain hidden for long.” He stopped just as he reached the Baron, eyeing him intently. “As I offered Noctis, I will offer you the same; this is your last chance to tell me anything you're hiding. I will find it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Nope, it’s a guarantee. Warranty and all.”

“I am the victim here. Not some dirty criminal.” Before the Baron could begin another rant, a stampede of hooves could be heard in the far distance. The rumble grew louder and louder as the unmistakable sound of Trottingam’s finest were bumbling their way towards them. “Ah, finally, some actual professionals to clean this matter up. You’re little power fantasy is about to be over.”

A small army of guardsman stomped through the entranceway, all decked out in their signature blue uniforms. At the front was a elder gentle stallion in a long trench coat and flat cap. On his snout was a moustache that spread out like the wings of an eagle, and two eyebrows sharp enough the cut through hardened metal. He coughed into his hoof, his smoking habit catching up with him in his later years. He looked ready to lay down the law and arrest everypony on the spot, until he spotted Question across the room.

“Where the bloody hell have you been!?” He launched himself forward and caught Question in a tight bearhug. Despite his initial embarrassment, the Detective returned the gesture.

“Hello, Gumshoe.”

“That’s all you got to say. After two years!?”

“You got older.”

He let out a deep bellowess laugh, one that reverberated across the room. Everypony stood about in a state of confusion, unsure exactly what was happening, all but Counter Fiet, as he gasped in horror at the scene before him.

“No, seriously, what the hell are you doing here?” Gumshoe released the Detective from his vice.

“Night on the town, showing some friends the place, stumbled into this mess.”

“Nothing has changed then. Thought you were gone from Trottingham for good.”

“So did I,” Question muttered quietly. “Funny how fate drags us back.”

“Want me to hang back while you take care of things?”

“That would be ideal, thanks.”

“What!?” Fiet screeched again, but nopony paid him any mind.

“Alright lads, lock the area down,” Gumshoe turned to address his loyal soldiers. “We’ll take care of things here. Nopony in or out, understand?”

“Yes, sir!” They saluted in unison, quickly filling out and blocking every possible way out of the museum. Question nodded towards his old friend and addressed his line-up once more.

“If any pony had any bright ideas of leaving, quell them now. You’re all in for a long night.”