Equestrian Noire: Echoes of the Past

by MrMoonBird

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“Ignorance is cute in small doses.”

---

The streets of Manehattan were always bustling with some form of life, whether it was the usual prostitute or a member of the mafia. Today, there was a particularly young group of harlots across the street eyeing me. Now, if it was the commissioner, I wouldn’t have minded; however, something about call ponies in general sickened me. Maybe it was the fact that they sold their bodies to willing stallions (or mares, depending on which way their barn door swung); maybe it was just how filthy they were. Either way, I couldn’t care--in my head, they were nothing but a nuisance.

I looked up and let the rain slowly fall upon my face. There was something about the feeling that I craved. I had spent many an hour in the shower just letting the beads of water roll across my body, sighing in complete bliss at the sensation. I could never really put my hoof on what it was that I enjoyed so much about the feeling of water rolling down my coat. Maybe it was just soothing, and having a stressful job, I kind of needed it.

I looked back down and wiped some of the raindrops from my eyes. Looking across the street again, I made out a familiar face amongst the small group of hustlers. Her mint green coat stood out from the rest of the group, as did her bicolored mane and tale.

“Lyra,” I mumbled. She was the main gossip on the streets--always had something new to talk about, yet could never give it to you straight. If you wanted an answer, you’d have to pay her one way or another. Luckily for me though, I had my methods of getting things without payment.

I trotted up to her, wiping away any sign of a smile I had, licking away the extra hay on my teeth from lunch. One grass-infused breath later and she was already turning away. “Heartstrings…” I grabbed her little collar, most likely left from her previous ‘occupant’. As red leather wrapped around my hoof, mint green fur disappeared from the street into a neighboring alleyway.

“Oh look it’s Officer Clip-Clop…” she giggled, a swash of rum entrapping my snout. My own breath could battle hers as we stared eye to eye. The only thing between me and her was one hoofstep and a wall of built-up tension. I looked at her and saw garbage. Her eyes were the reasons that buildings were crumbling. Her fur was hard to the touch, stiff, unwashed. I cringed slightly, letting her collar loose, allowing her to stand up straight on all four hooves.

She brushed off the area that I had rustled up, stumbling back a hoofstep into the brick wall, nearly falling over onto the dilapidated dumpster, where former ponies had etched crude comments into the metal. The comments only got worse with time. “Rainbow Crash smells…those sluts are property of Frank Drawbridge...this dump is used for more than trash…” Vile. All of it.

She spoke up in a mumble, words starting to slur together. “Oka-okay, so Clip-Clop here wansa little sumting sumtin for ‘is troubes, yeh?”

I growled, putting a hoof forward, feeling the hard gravel under my hooves. It chafed at my skin, but this wasn’t the time to worry about that. “You know damn well what I came for…”

“Ohhh is th...then...who’re you, again…? Oh yeah...a cusssst-” she collapsed, silently giggling to herself. I sighed, realizing that she wasn’t going to give me what I want as long as I was beating around the bush.

I put a hoof onto her chest, rolling her to face me as I pressed deep into her coat, to her bones. “Damnit Lyra, Twilight Sparkle. Where the buck is Twilight-”

“Whoa whoa, Clip-Clop, slow yer horthes...I dunno who tha Porkle lady ith!” she chuckled to herself, pointing up at me with her free hoof, the other squished under a mound of dirty, sticky green fur. “ Now if yer looking fer Twilight Marker, I know that pone.”

I lifted my hoof up and smacked it down against her, only emitting a laugh from her loud mouth. I twitched, biting back a shout. I breathed in another waft of putrid air before leaning in close to her. “Then where the Tartarus is she?”

She tried to buck herself up, hitting both legs against the brick wall, but only slid across my hoof, fur catching in one large bundle. She chuckled once again, her eyes dropping back as if she was to go unconscious, but then her face sprung back to life, revelation crossing her eyes.

She stayed silent, and it only took raising my hoof up again to make her cower back, answering in a stutter, still slurring. “Now now Offsir, don’ do that...tell ya what, we can go back to my place...and talk ‘bout it over a glassa wine, howzit sound?”

“Oh wonderful, I’d love to,” I smugly remarked, taking my hoof off of her, only to push it close to her muzzle, a reminder that I wasn’t here to play games. “Let’s share that after you tell me what I need to know.”

“Oh goodsy!” she said, smiling a big toothy smile full of holes. “That Flashlight lady was down by the Plummet Inn earlier, wi’some biiiiiiiiiig ssssstallion!” She stood, catching her steps midair, tripping over her own hooves until she could stand at an angle, even if it wasn’t exactly a healthy one. “And den POOF! Bye bye Marker…”

I twitched again, my entire body shaking with my head. I growled at her, snarling my teeth in her direction. “What does THAT mean?”

“She went for a ridey bye!”

“She was ponynapped!”

“Nooo…”

“Then what do you mean, you stupid. Little. BITCH!” It all came out at once. Rage, aggression, hatred. People like her didn’t deserve to be on the streets, let alone out in the world. She was a monster, a menace, and her lifestyle was horrid.

I looked down at her, and suddenly it all came together. The years of passive waiting had finally reached their peak. I saw it all in a blur, one swift motion. Hoof beat against fur until my vision turned red. My entire life came before me as I swung at her, a hopeless soul that wasn’t sure whether she was just drunk or purely didn’t give a buck about life.

I stood there for what felt like hours clobbering my pain away, all the cruel tendencies that I, in that moment, loved. She was the passion that I didn’t want to admit I had.

When eventually I calmed down, tears were forming in the crevices of my eyes, closed to the sight that lay before me. My own pain melted away in the rain, and as I crossed by the limp, nearly breathless body behind me, I could see the world turn a slightly darker shade of gray. I looked to the left street, then the right, orienting myself back into society as I hid my muzzle behind my coat and stepped back into the crowd, sweeping myself away into the ocean.

---

It wasn’t a spectacular building, no, but it stood up, and that’s all that really mattered in this crummy town. The sign flashed colors that, at one point in time, might’ve been beautiful, but now, under the rain, drearily announced to visitors that a haven against the rain was before them.

“Alright…” I was thinking out loud. She had been here. The pony had been here and I knew that, or at least, I had to believe that Lyra had given me the correct information. As rain slid down my cheeks, I inspected the entrance, and it provided nothing special. Carts came and went all the time, and the skid marks from her disappearance wouldn’t be here, nor did I expect them to be.

I bit my lip, looking at the revolving doors ahead. The rust had started to accumulate on the metal handles of the doors, and the doors themselves smelled of mildew that had been trapped in a closet with sheets and pillows long overdue for a wash. Was it worth going inside? Would they really remember one pony out of the hundreds that came here every month?

It was worth a shot. Walking up to the entrance, I heard a screech behind me, turning around just in time to avoid a cart that was pulling up to the curbside, ponies stopping quickly to avoid a collision.

“Sorry ‘bout that, miss, didn’t even see ya there!” It was a Manehattan pony, that much was assured. I looked him down. His white fur and blue mane would stand out among a crowd, but he looked...different, as if he didn’t belong.

I shuffled away the thought, though, reaching out a halfhearted hoof. “Oh, don’t worry about it, just watch where you’re going next time…”

I turned back to the door, pushing myself inside, the squeaking doors rotating around my body. Dust fell on top of my head, and I diligently brushed it away as I usually would. This is just getting annoying…

The inside was no better. As the glass bumped up against my plot, pushing me inside, I tripped onto my hooves, falling snout-first onto a nail in the carpet. Luckily it wasn’t sticking out very far, and I managed to get by with just a scrape, only the faint taste of iron meeting my lips. Grimacing, I walked over to the counter. Nobody was there, but the cliche bell on the desk was, and I almost willed myself to push it.

So what could she have been doing here? Why would she be here?

I turned away, taking a second to look around the lobby. I took a step away from the counter and another to the ‘waiting area’ of the room. One table stood in the center of two rundown couches, a little worse for wear. They were riddled with little holes, allowing the fuzz inside to pop out on springs. The couches were complemented by the peeling shreds of wallpaper, maybe once from the Victorian Era of ponykind, but now hastily replaced with green and white stripes perpendicular to the floor. Swatches of glue along the linings of the new wallpaper weakly stuck it to the previous decor, but it was obvious that somepony wanted to at least try and make it look good.

I levitated one of the magazines on the table, leaning on one leg, and took a good look at the cover. It was an old addition of PlayPony, appearing to have been used recently, as no dust had accumulated on the pages. I didn’t keep it up for long, setting it carefully back down next to the other, more dusty ‘Gentlepony Monthly’ magazine.

When I felt sure that there was no other pieces of potential evidence to look at, I walked back over to the counter and hit the bell with a resounding clang. The room stood still for a minute before I rang it again, only to have the bell muffled, as it hadn’t finished it’s previous clamoring.

“I told you once before, and I’m not going to tell you again! Stop ringin’ that damned b-well aren’t you a new face?” A seasoned stallion approached the counter from a concealed door that blended in with the wallpaper, masking it from sight. He looked to be in his late 50s, early 60s, but it was hard to place a hoof on the exact age. His short stature made me lean over the counter

“And just who might you be?” I asked, placing a hoof on the counter to get better leverage.

“Oh! Forgive my manners, my name is Patrick Lemonheart. And who might you be, Miss?”

“Visions, Night Visions. I’m actually here to just ask about a customer who might’ve come in here recently.”

He looked at me carefully, as if studying me, judging me silently. I almost spoke up, commenting on the insult it was to me, but he got to it first. “Oh ho ho, a customer, of course! You’re here for a room!”

I shot a questioning look his way, placing both hooves on the counter to try and keep an eye on him as he disappeared behind the counter. “Well umm...no, not exactly, I just want-”

“Here we are!” He came back up, stepping up onto a stool, much to my pleasure, as he dropped it in front of me. “The registrar! Now if you would like to sign in, you’ve just got to sign in right along the lines, the dotted ones right there.” He climbed up onto the counter and pointed to a few spaces below a list of names.

“Well, actually, I just-”

“But you need a pen first! Oh my, how could I forget? Silly me, silly me...let me fetch one for you, darling.” He jumped down and wandered off, behind the hidden door, closing it behind him.

For a second I waited quietly, awkwardly. Then it hit me; the sign in was right here, I could just find her name. While the old pony was off to get a pen, I started to flip through the dusty pages of the book, flipping them one by one to the front of the registrar.

Nothing.

Of course it wouldn’t be in here, what kind of princess would want to make herself known to the world?

I thought for a second before realizing that if she had checked in, her handwriting would be different. She wouldn’t dare make a mistake in her handwriting, it would have to be regal, elegant. Once more I flipped through the pages, but this time stopped on the only name written in cursive: D. Webster, Room 312.

As soon as I closed the book back to the front, the door behind the counter opened back up, and it wasn’t until he jumped up to the stool that I saw him again. Still, he hopped up to the lower portion of the counter behind the desk and placed a pen on the top of the book. “So, Miss Visions, do you have any recommendations for us tonight?”

I stood there for a second, my mind still trying to get over his height, before I shook myself out of the trance and spoke up. “Oh, uh, yes, would you mind if I stayed in Room 312?”

“Room 302?” he answered back.

I spoke louder, raising my voice. “No, I said 312!”

“312.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, darling, let me just fetch that key for you.”

And he waddled off, back into his room to fetch me a key.