Loony

by totallynotabrony

5: Hello, I Want You Dead

It had not been a productive day for Roxy. Well, she’d gotten her work done, but her personal projects had lagged behind. Part of the reason for that was Carbon.

He’d ended up working closely with her that day, and they’d managed to clear quite a few tasks. The two of them got along quite well, although perhaps too well if it encouraged him to keep hanging around and keeping Roxy from doing the research she wanted.

Carbon had never shown the slightest hint that he was interested in being anything more than a friendly colleague. That made the situation more annoying, because Roxy could find no legitimate reason to push him away.

After work, she’d gone to see Spike and gotten a pleasant surprise. The book from Haycago had come in. It was only about one hundred pages, but it was entirely focused on loonies.

“This is great, thanks,” she told Spike.

He nodded and smiled. “No problem. I live to serve.”

“Maybe you can help me with something else,” Roxy said. “I’ve looked over my DNA as well as Buttercup’s. Neither of us seem to have anything out of place. According to tests, we’re totally pony. I was wondering if there was some way to determine, scientifically or otherwise, a being’s complete physiology.”

Spike pondered that. “I might be able to find something. You said ‘scientifically or otherwise?’ I think our local wizard might be able to help with that. I believe Gray has his contact information on file.”

“Thank you so much.” Roxy said goodbye to Spike and went downstairs to see Gray.

He greeted her. “Did you get the book you needed?”

“Yes, thank you. Spike said you could help me get in contact with the local wizard.”

Gray frowned. “Granite? That’s probably who he meant. I mean, he’s the most well known wizard around here.”

He began to search through the cards in a rolodex. Roxy asked, “Are there a lot of wizards?”

“Not really. I mean, wizards and witches combined, I’ve only heard of maybe a dozen. There are a lot more practitioners than that, but very few really make a career out of it.” Gray shrugged. “Very few are adept enough to.”

“I’m looking to research the physiology of paraequine beings. Is Granite skilled in that field?”

Gray paused. “Not that I know of. Granite’s not really into researching that paranormal stuff, from what I've heard. Kind of odd for a wizard, don’t cha’ think? He’s more of a badass. Like I said, he’s well known, and for a good reason.”

Roxy frowned, but not having met the stallion, she couldn’t judge how helpful he would be. If he came recommended by Spike, that was good enough.

Gray found the right card and copied the information onto a sticky note. He hoofed it over. “That should be what you need.”

Roxy took it, giving the writing a glance. “Thank you. I’ll see if he can help me.”

She left before Gray could ask any awkward questions. At some point, Roxy might have to give him the time to get them out of his system. Or strangle him. Either would probably suffice.

Roxy headed down the street to the prison. The book she had just received might help shed some light on Buttercup’s condition.

Market wasn’t expecting to see Roxy, but had her wait in the interrogation room while she fetched Buttercup.

Wrapped in hobbles and a bridle, Buttercup looked well restrained. Today, she did not appear to be out for a fight, but that didn’t change her attitude. She still looked a mess, and the expression on her face was even uglier.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back, bitch,” Buttercup sneered.

Roxy ignored the comment, laying out her notebook. Buttercup prodded her again. “Hey, fleabag. I’m talking to you.”

Roxy looked up. Buttercup grinned. “Yeah, I know what you are. Took a little while, but I figured it out.”

Pausing for a moment, Roxy said, “Fleabag? Is that what you shop with at flea markets?”

Buttercup blinked, the comment putting her off balance.

Roxy went on. “You know about me. I’d like to hear more about you. I’m working on a project to learn about loonies. Can we talk about your family history?”

Buttercup’s lip curled. “No.”

“I just want to get to know you.” Roxy wondered if anypony had ever said that to Buttercup before. Perhaps not. Several seconds passed before Buttercup replied.

She sat back in the chair, gazing at Roxy levelly. “I was put up for adoption on the day I was born. How’s that for a start?”

Roxy wondered what time of the month it had been. Had her mother been uncaringly casting her child aside, or had she been trying to save her daughter from her own personality swings?

“Do you know anything about your family?” Roxy asked.

“Never met any of them.” Buttercup frowned, but said, “Probably a good thing too.”

“Why’s that?”

“What do you think happens when you put more than one evil pony in the room?”

Roxy made a note. “So you acknowledge that you’re evil?”

Buttercup faltered, but quickly came back with, “Reality can be a bitch, like you.”

“You know, that’s actually less insulting to a lycan,” Roxy said.

Snarling, Buttercup jerked on her restraints as she tried to go across the table. Her sitting position and a quick grab from Market kept her from coming out of the chair.

“You think that makes you any better than me?” Buttercup locked eyes with Roxy as she was forcibly restrained by Market. “You think that because you weren't born this way you can just laugh off what I say?”

“I wouldn’t need to if you wouldn’t say hurtful things,” Roxy responded. “I’m trying not to let anything come between us. I want to help you.”

“It would help a lot more if you were housebroken and properly trained to fetch,” Buttercup said, a grin working its way onto her lips. “I’ll bet your master would approve. Do you like it when he takes you for walks on a leash? Or when he pets you?”

Market jerked Buttercup away by her bridle lead. “I think it’s pretty clear which one of you needs to be on a leash.” Roxy heard the prisoner still tossing insults all the way back to her cell.

It was mildly reassuring that Buttercup seemed to be running out of motivations and was now only acting ornery because she felt like she had to. At the same time, Roxy was frustrated that more progress hadn’t been made.

Leaving the building, Roxy got into her car to drive home. The dashboard briefly illuminated as the engine started. In digital letters, the car requested an oil change. Newer cars decided for themselves when they needed to be serviced, and the seemingly random times made it more difficult to plan for. Roxy grumbled and made a mental note to call the dealership to schedule an appointment.

In another car that was traveling north on the Unicorado Peninsula, Arc, Proficient, and Harv were vacating the scene of a recent house explosion.

The pistol Arc had put inside his shirt was pinned between his back and the seat. He shifted slightly to keep the slide release from digging into his pelt.

It had been mostly quiet since they’d gotten back into the car. Arc felt strange, almost as if he had a fever. He noticed that he was breathing fast and had broken into a sweat. It had been a while since he'd felt like this. It brought back some memories. He didn't want to look like a nervous rookie, but he just couldn't just stay quiet. “Did somepony just try to kill us?”

“No,” Harv deadpanned. “That was just an excessively warm welcome. With fireworks.”

“There’s no evidence that it was targeted specifically for us three,” Proficient said. “However, yes, I think so.”

“How did Sisal Twist know we were coming?” Harv wondered aloud. “You don’t blow your house up for just anypony trying to get in the front door.”

“I see three options,” Proficient speculated. “One, somepony tipped her that we were coming. Two, she knew we would pick up her trail and come eventually. Three, she’s trying to get attention by blowing up parts of San Palomino. Maybe it's all three. The question remains: why?”

“It sounds awfully longsighted for a criminal,” Arc commented.

Harv glanced at him. “Bad guys are some of the most inventive ponies you will ever meet. Figuring out their next step before they figure out yours is the challenge.”

That was true enough, Arc supposed. All was fair in war, as he had seen while on deployment. He just hoped that it wasn’t a war coming to San Palomino.

Arc looked out the window for a moment as the car kept moving. The bridge back across the bay came into view. He asked, “Where are we going?”

“An incident like this requires us to file a formal report,” Harv explained. “The sooner the better. It’s important to have quality information and to file it correctly.”

The lecture on procedure and bureaucracy was slightly surprising coming from Harv, but Arc did understand debriefing.

They arrived back at headquarters and Arc once again had to give a blood sample to get in. Down in the depths of the building, they accessed a computer terminal for report writing. Proficient and Harv coached Arc on what to put in the report.

“Whoever ends up reading it might send it back with a request for more detail, so it’s best to put down everything the first time,” Harv advised.

Arc wasn’t sure how much more detail he could get out of arrived at house, picked up a gun, walked up to house, walked away from house, house blew up.

Speaking of the gun, he reached back to adjust so it would stop gouging him. Proficient saw him. “I suppose you’ll need a holster.”

“Can’t I just leave the gun in the trunk?” Arc asked.

“I suppose you could, although most of us prefer to be armed when somepony is trying to kill us.” Proficient shrugged.

“You’re just going to give me the authority to carry a gun?”

“Government exception,” Harv provided.

Arc had been armed every day he was overseas. However, those weapons were designed to be carried effectively and visibly. For this job, procuring a secure, ergonomic holster for carrying a pistol concealed was a must. A loose gun was uncomfortable and unsafe. Actually obtaining a holster for a gun he had just received–in the liberal city of San Palomino–wasn’t going to be the easiest thing.

Related to being issued a sidearm, there was paperwork to do. Even underground secret agencies kept a tight grip on dangerous weapons.

By the time the pistol checkout applications and after-action reports for the bombing were filed, Arc was late for dinner again.

He was climbing the stairs out of the basement with Proficient and Harv when they encountered an older mare named Sapphire Shores. Her mane was long and brushed straight, covering her neck. Other than being named after an old-timey musician, Arc didn’t know much about her. He was aware, however, that she was in charge of the San Palomino Shade office.

“Gentlecolts,” Sapphire said, nodding to the three of them. They paused to speak with her.

“Ma’am,” Proficient replied with a nod of his head. “I expect you’ve heard what happened.”

“I suspect most of San Palomino knows about it by now. The house is crawling with reporters and even a few news vans. The SPPD have cordoned off the area. We’ll have somepony of ours take a look into the investigation, if we can find the resources.”

Sapphire shook her head. “You know we’re stretched thin. The offshore annex is barely able to keep up. With the new tasking that might come out of this gryphon-minotaur scuffle, I expect that this building will also pick up business.”

“Don’t we deal with just the internal affairs of Equestria?” Arc asked.

Sapphire looked at him. “You were in the Army, right? You know better than most that the countries of the world aren’t isolated anymore. If a war breaks out overseas, we’ll still feel some effects here. Which reminds me, the lab tests came back. The gryphon that blew up the car at the base the other day did it with TNT in the trunk. That’s a trademark of Al-Nestra bombs.”

Sapphire shook her head in annoyance. As her mane tossed, Arc briefly saw a set of symmetric creases in her neck.

“I need to get going,” Sapphire said. “Good talking with you.”

When she was out of earshot, Arc asked, “What’s the offshore annex?”

“It’s just like this building but underwater,” Proficient said. “Believe it or not, most of the work the San Palomino office does actually takes place out there. The world is mostly ocean, after all. It’s a good idea to pay attention to it.”

“Why do we have this building as a headquarters, then?” Arc asked, gesturing to the walls.

“Equal opportunity,” said Harv. “They have to cater to non-seapony employees.”

It was the first time Arc had ever felt like a minority before. He said, “So everything in San Palomino that happens on land takes a backseat to what goes on in the ocean?”

“The offshore annex is a priority facility,” Proficient explained. “The only one we have on this coast.”

“So if we get the second choice of resources, what does that mean for our investigation?” Arc asked. “Who’s going to investigate Sisal’s house?”

Harv frowned. “Us, probably.”

That was not what Arc wanted to hear. He thought he had been recruited for this job because he was qualified for it.

The three of them walked out of the building. Arc checked his cell phone. It didn’t appear to work at all inside the walls of the Shade Headquarters. Calling the home phone number got him to voicemail. Roxy apparently wasn’t home.

As he finished his call, his phone beeped with a voicemail of his own. It had only just been received after being in the signalproof building. Arc listened. It was from Roxy. She was going to be late for dinner.

It wasn’t as if Arc couldn’t cook for his own food; Roxy was just so much better at it. It was too bad that he would have to fend for himself this evening, but there were leftovers.

Roxy reflected on that as she drove to a meeting. She liked putting together meals, but her current task was more important.

She’d called Granite with the number Gray had given her. He’d been busy with his lawyer, but said he needed a break anyway and told her to come. Roxy figured the lawyer must not charge by the hour.

The office was downtown in One Equestria Plaza. The building was one of the tallest in the skyline, and its distinctive pointed roof set it apart from the rest. Roxy found parking and walked inside. The lobby was marble and four stories tall, with a water feature that ran down most of one wall. The doorways carried the same point as the roof and the trimming around them and on the walls was golden.

Roxy crossed the lobby and got on the elevator. She flicked an ear. Even the music sounded expensive.

Several floors above, she reached her destination and disembarked. Across from the elevator was the front door of the law offices of Pants & disLee.

Opening the door, Roxy was greeted with a plush lounge and a reception desk which was not currently occupied.

Two pairs of hoofsteps came from down the hallway, just barely audible on the thick carpet. Into the room stepped two stallions, only one of which looked as if he belonged there.

Fancypants, as he introduced himself, was immaculately groomed with a carefully managed mane and a trim mustache. Roxy estimated that his suit was probably three times as expensive as Arc’s nicest one. His hooves had a better shine than Roxy’s.

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Fancypants smiled but did not show his teeth. He took her forehoof in both of his and bringing it up to his mouth, kissed it. His eyes widened slightly as his lips touched her limb. Despite his opulent clothes and the summer season, his hooves felt cool to the touch. A light cologne hung around him.

“Now you see why I wanted a break,” grumbled Granite. “He can’t even come close to acting like a normal pony.”

“Neither can you, wizard,” replied Fancypants, appearing completely unperturbed by the comment.

Granite turned away from him to face Roxy. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Spike suggested that I speak to you about magic,” Roxy began. “I’m trying to determine if there are testable indicators of somepony’s supernatural traits like there are for physical traits. You can think of it as ‘magic genes.’”

Granite considered the idea. “I wouldn’t be surprised if something like that exists, although I’m not the best authority on magical theory and study. Let’s talk and see what I can contribute.”

Fancypants escorted them to an opulent conference room with high-backed chairs. The three of them took up just one corner of the table.

Roxy spread out her notes and explained what she knew so far. That was honestly very little, but she got the point across. “Being able to test for something like this would enable us to determine characteristics, maybe even distinct abilities and aptitude.”

“I think it’s an interesting idea,” Granite said. “I know that there’s already some evidence that traits like these are inheritable, like from a father to a daughter.”

“I’m not exactly sure what it means for me,” Roxy admitted. “I don’t know if my kids could be born as lycans or if my husband’s normal traits would be dominant.”

Fancypants sat up a little straighter. “Forgive me for asking, but why did you marry a mortal before you knew the answers to questions like that?”

Roxy paused, staring at him. “Well, love had something to do with it.”

“Oh.” Fancypants folded his hooves and leaned back. “That’s all well and good for the first fifty years or so. Then he’ll die.”

Roxy’s hooves were flat on the table and her wings lifted slightly from her back. Her teeth clenched tightly, lips parting slightly.

Granite turned his head to Fancypants. “You’re getting a little out of touch with the public.”

Fancypants frowned. “I suppose. That was insensitive of me.”

“You’re absolutely right it was,” Roxy spat. “I married a wonderful stallion and lifespan was the last thing on my mind.”

“I suppose quality is more important than quantity if you’re limiting yourself to just one of the two,” Fancypants mused.

Granite stood up. “I’m going to get out of here before somepony has to clean blood out of the carpet.” He glanced at Fancypants. “See you tomorrow.”

Roxy continued to glare across the table at Fancypants for a moment longer before grabbing her notes and following Granite out of the room. The two of them exited the office, and Granite pushed the elevator button.

They got on the elevator when it came. As the doors slid closed, Roxy muttered, “Who does he think he is?”

“A vampire that’s a couple of centuries old,” Granite replied.

Roxy stared at him for a moment before turning to face the doors again. “I don’t care. I’m not going to let anypony talk about Arc that way.”

Granite shrugged. “Good luck. Just don’t pick a fight you can’t win.”

Roxy’s eyes slid sideways to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, somepony like Fancypants outclasses you on just about every level. He’s got a lot of life experience. He’s a lawyer, so he’s good at verbal altercations. He’s an older vampire, so if you tried anything physical you’d get your ass hoofed to you.”

Granite turned to face her. “Look, I can tell that you’re young, in every sense of the word. You might as well learn now that the hierarchy has a whole lot more levels than what they teach in school. Fancypants could take you out, I could take him in a fair fight, and there’s probably something out there that could take me. Just keep your head down and try not to get noticed.”

The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence. The two of them parted company at the street and Roxy went back to her car. She sat for a moment behind the wheel and took a deep breath.

Roxy started the car and drove home. Arc was there when she arrived, although he was still sorting through the mail, so he had apparently just gotten home himself. They met with a hug in the kitchen. He seemed curious about why Roxy clung to him a little longer than normal, but didn’t ask.

Roxy made a quick dinner of stir fry. For conversation during the meal, she explained to Arc her theories about the magic traits. He was no expert in life sciences, but over the years had managed to pick up enough about genetics from her to understand.

“So for most of the population, those genes would be blank?” Arc asked.

“That’s a good question.” Roxy thought about it for a moment, remembering what Gray had said about most ponies having at least trifling ability, even if it wasn’t obvious.

“This sounds like it could be a big deal,” Arc said. “Being able to test for this.”

“Well, if we can figure out how to,” Roxy noted. “And if we can make sure somepony else hasn’t already done this research. Trying to figure out if you have a unique idea is hard enough. Trying to find if there’s been similar project when all the notes are classified makes it nearly impossible.”

Arc smiled. “You still came up with the idea independently. I’m just happy to see you excited about something.”

Roxy nodded. “I was hoping I could use this research to help Buttercup. If there’s some way to identify what’s wrong with her, maybe we can figure out how to change it.”

Arc couldn’t really argue with trying to cure Buttercup, although his feelings about her hadn’t changed.

A silence settled over the table. Arc put down his fork. “I should tell you: I was nearly blown up today.”

In terms of changing the subject, that was about as effective as anything. Roxy’s silverware clattered to the plate. “What?”

“We went to visit Sisal Twist’s place. It looked like a trap and so we left before it happened.”

Arc had told her about a few of the scrapes he’d been in during the war, but they’d both thought things like that were in the past. Roxy reached across the table to touch his hoof. “Please stay safe.”

It was not a tone she took with him often. Arc felt like he had kicked a puppy. Putting himself in danger was one thing, but he couldn’t just think of himself. He turned his hoof over to clasp hers. “I will.”

Roxy let out a breath softly and her face relaxed. Arc did not pull away, prolonging the touch for as long as she wished. Their eyes met, and both of them leaned forward.

The kiss was a familiar contact but by no means an uninteresting one. Pausing for breath, they both leaned into each other, foreheads together and enjoying the intimate feeling a warm nuzzle, eyes closed.

“I love you,” Roxy said gently.

“I love you too.” Arc matched her tone.

The phone rang. Both of them groaned in annoyance. Arc was closer, and leaned back to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Am I speaking to Arc?” It was a female voice.

“Yes,” he replied, not recognizing the caller.

She went on. “You should have died today.”

Arc paused, his brows furrowing. “Who is this?”

“Take a guess.”

“No really, who is this?”

“Sisal Twist.”

Arc made frantic hoof movements at Roxy to get a pen and paper. He said, “Why did your house blow up?”

“Why were you there?”

Arc paused, and deciding he had nothing to lose, said, “I asked you first.”

“Really? I nearly murder you and that’s your comeback?”

Sisal seemed rather amiable about it, and that worried Arc more than anything. It sounded like she was enjoying herself.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting your call,” Arc said. “Give me some time to think up something snappy.”

“Time isn’t something you have,” Sisal said. “You’re not a princess - literally speaking, anyway - so you won’t be exactly difficult to kill.”

“What do you have against me?” Arc asked. It seemed like the obvious question.

“You’re in my way. I just thought that if I called and told you to leave town tonight it would save us both some hassle.” She snorted.

“It sounds like you don’t care either way.”

“You want to die, Arc? Because not even the diarchs can save you.”

“Did you just rhyme?” he asked. The conversation up to this point had been bordering on the ridiculous. Despite the threats, Arc could barely believe what he was hearing. Was this really a criminal mastermind?

“What if I did?” she said.

“Are you being serious?”

“Do you think me killing thousands of ponies is serious?”

Arc wanted to say “yes,” but Sisal’s tone was clearly rhetorical. At any rate, she hung up before he could reply.

“What was that all about?” Roxy asked.

Arc put the phone down and looked into her eyes. “I'm sorry, love. I don't think playing it safe is an option any more.”

Comments

[Dash The Stampede]

Ohh shiiiiiii-

I read Sisal like
Dat evil lisp.
...

Eagerly awaiting next chapter!
~Dash The Stampede

[metallusionsismagic]

It was the first time Arc had ever felt like a minority before.

Sounds like a mashed together turn of phrase, remove "before," I think.

so you won’t be exactly difficult to kill.”

Would swap around be and exactly.