See, Hear, and Speak: Unseen Clues

by AilingStar

Ch. 1: Bait & Switch

The PI looked at the building in front of him. Every bone in his body and every neuron in his brain told him, begged him not to go in. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't. These were hardly normal circumstances: An anonymous client appearing after a month without jobs (or, more importantly, money), offering a pretty hefty sum to investigate a case in a theater owned by the family that also owned most of the city.

The Lorelei.

Reluctantly, the man walked up to the building and knocked on the door. The eye slot slid open, and a blue eye peered at the investigator. “What's your name?” A command, not a question.

“Patrick Matthews,” the PI responded without a blink, “What's yours?”

The door opened, revealing a well dressed man. “I'm not liberty to tell you that, and you are not here to make jokes.”

“Fair enough, let's get down to brass tacks. Were you here on the night of the incident?” Patrick asked, trying to keep a cool air about him. Although the doorman was well dressed, he was also well built, and could probably wipe the floor with the PI if he wanted to.

“No.” Came the blunt reply. He was telling the truth, or else he was a really good liar. “And before you ask, I am not at liberty to mention any of my associates or our customers. The only witness I can direct you towards is the main suspect – a mute at that.”

Given what he had seen of the doorman, Patrick was inclined to believe him, as the doorman had himself said this was not a time for humor. Still, it did cause him to frown a bit. He couldn't see the main suspect in a case; that, combined with no available witnesses, would make it difficult to make progress. Hardly impossible, but still difficult.

So far, so very bad.

“Alright then, where did this happen?” Patrick asked as he pulled out his notebook.

“Follow me.” The well dressed man led the PI into the establishment. Like with any theater, the main attraction was the stage, and this one, seeming to revel in making Patrick as unnerved as possible, was decked out in the Lorelei's signature colors – blue and seafoam green. Odd choice, but Patrick never questioned it.

Pulling his attention away from the colors, Patrick continued following the doorman backstage, where all of the magic happened, so to speak. However, at this time of day, the rooms were empty. That would make Patrick's life slightly easier.

His escort stopped at one of the doors, marked 1C, and let Patrick inside. “Should you need me, I will be waiting at the door.” With that, he left Patrick at the scene of the crime.

The PI sighed as he looked upon the scene in front of him. It was much the same as any would expect from a very, very bland room, save for the white tape covering the linoleum. Patrick groaned. Ever since he had 'quit' the police force, they had made his new job harder than his old one, getting rid of crucial evidence before the case was old enough for him to take a crack at it. Still, he didn't have to deal with the smell anymore.

He went over the facts in his head before he added new ones to the list. 'March 30th, 18:00: actor Louis Strong and the rest of his troupe performed the Scottish Play (figures), in which he played the part of the mad king himself. 21:30: the show had ended, and Mr. Strong was resting in his room having recently asked an intern, the main suspect, to fetch him a drink. She was held up for some reason, so he had been waiting for quite a while. The moment the suspect had entered the room, Mr. Strong was shot. One clean hit penetrated the head. He didn't have a chance. Police arrived ten minutes later.' Something was bothering him about how quick the police had arrived, but he decided to put it aside for now. Investigating while distracted was a surefire way to fail.

He pushed the stray thought aside and took to looking at the scene. It was so obvious even the lowest-level detective on the force would suggest that the shot had been sniper fire; there was a small window in the that was just at too convenient an angle. And, what a surprise, the window was open.

Outside the window was, if Patrick's research was correct, what used to be a small apartment building. It had been scheduled for demolition the day after the incident, and it was only after demolition was complete that the police force officially considered that there might be a clue in there. To make matters worse, the one person there had been a lone security guard, and he had gone missing the day after. This left a perfect opportunity for the 'guard' to hide a sniper rifle inside the building, then get in and out relatively undetected while leaving hardly any evidence.

The bullet hole in the wall seemed to support the theory. Both the angle and the placement told him that the sniper had to have been on a floor above the window, and the bullet had just barely embedded itself in the wall.

Patrick started to sweat. The case was easy – too easy. The lowest-level detective could figure this out. Yet somehow, the police's activities seemed far more idiotic than he could believe. The exception was their timing, in which they were hypercompetent.

It couldn't be a coincidence, they didn't exist until proven otherwise. Someone had planned all this to happen, pulled all the strings, controlled all the players including himself. Someone wanted him gone, and had the influence to do so. There was only one possibility.

“Lorelei.” Patrick whispered. It all made sense, made such dark, dark sense. He had been on the trail of the crime family during the past month, and now they had found him out. They had sent him a call about a murder, tricking him and his wallet into taking the bait, just to make sure he couldn't plead innocence through ignorance.

Now he was in the most prone of positions. If he was right, the Lorelei would send his previous colleagues to arrest him, frame him for a crime that he only now was involved in. No assassin who could be traced from his death; he was going to die a criminal, as one of the very crime family he had opposed.

JOY.

He didn't try to run. The only thing that could do is delay the inevitable, and it was far more likely to progress it. He sat down on the bed, waiting for the inevitable sirens to start screaming.

He took one last look at the crime scene, hoping beyond hope that there was something he had missed. The bullet hole, the open window, the white tape, the blue ethereal entity...

“...What.”

Patrick blinked a few times. He had to be seeing things, there was no other explanation for the entity to appear. And yet, the entity remained, and worse yet, it started speaking to him. "O hero of Earth... we sense your plight and extend to thee a chance to change your fate.' The voice was cold like the night, but not in an uninviting way. 'We offer you the power required to reveal your captors for who they are, and the allies required to defeat them. Will you accept our offer?"

Patrick didn't say anything. He had just thought up another reason why he might be seeing the ethereal entity; the Lorelei didn't think all they had to accuse him with was enough and wanted to put insanity charges on him as well, just to make absolutely sure he wouldn't be found innocent.

The entity seemed to sense his thoughts. "So be it. We will leave you be for the time being." With that, the entity disappeared just before police sirens could be heard in the distance.

“It's been a good life,” Patrick whispered as he hid his notebook, full of every tidbit of information he had about all of his cases, including those relating to the crime family, “but now my turn in the spotlight is through.”

He heard the door being bashed open. The doorman thankfully didn't seem in on the plot, and there were sounds of a fight. The guy was probably pretty strong, but Patrick knew he couldn't rely on him. Sooner or later, the police would overwhelm him.

In his last moments of freedom, Patrick pulled out his phone and texted a short message to an old coworker and friend. The moment it was fully sent, Patrick threw the phone out the window. He couldn't risk her getting caught. “Good luck, Jayce...” He whispered as police flooded the room.

^^^^^

As cliché as it was, bouncing a ball against a prison wall was serving as a surprisingly good distraction for Patrick as he waited for the trial. It also gave him an outlet for his energy as he thought about what a blithering idiot he had been. “I should've taken what little chance I had,” he grumbled, “but instead of putting my best foot forward, I put my foot in my mouth.”

“Mr. Matthews, your lawyer is here.” The officer guarding him said, startling the PI temporarily. “Come on, let's go.”

The guard, Patrick noticed, seemed to be quite upset about the whole situation. He didn't blame the guy; back when Patrick was on the force, he was apparently quite admired among the officers. He had no idea why he was so beloved, and he refused the praise, but it was present. It must have been hard for the guard, seeing such an admired person arrested.

“At least you didn't have to arrest me.” Patrick quietly told the guard, who turned to face him. There were no more words between them, but he could see many emotions in the guard's face – gratitude, guilt, admiration... it was touching.

The guard opened the door to a room that Patrick was quite familiar with. It was a small, very cramped room that held a terminal used to allow monitored conversation between prisoners and visitors. Never thought he'd be on this side of the camera...

Cameras. That would make it difficult to freely have conversations, even if the guard was on his side. Luckily, the man on the other side was his best friend, Stephan Jenkins.

The dynamic between the PI and the defense attorney was very much like oil and water; they may not be able to stand each others' company for too long, but if you got them together and set them alight, they were a force to be reckoned with. Their sense of justice, hatred for the Lorelei, and love of video games kept them from ever drifting apart.

On the other hand, their differences were used in perfect tandem to make the twosome, in Patrick's words, 'OP'. Patrick would use his attentiveness to gather information on cases and work forensic miracles. Stephan, on the other hand, would use his way with words to make sure things worked out in court. They used their wit in equal measure, breaking cases open faster than a caffeinated squirrel. They also worked on ways to cheat the rules that the Lorelei had put upon the town.

Now was a time for one of their best brainchildren, a spoken code only the two of them knew.

Patrick twiddled his thumbs – up up down down left right left right – and Stephan raised his right eyebrow and blinked twice, signaling comprehension.

“How's the weather?” Patrick asked. Heard anything from Jayce?

“Haven't been outside much, recently.” No, should I have?

“Meh, it's not really important.” No, but it's extremely important. “It's okay.” Lorelei important.

“I see.” %?&@.

“Hey, remember what happened a month ago? That was crazy.” Hey, remember that strange shady thing we saw a month ago? It's back.

Stephan blanched. “I see.”

Patrick cricked his neck, signaling the cessation of the code, and Stephan drummed his fingers together in response. “Yes, well, let's get to our strategy, shall we?” The lawyer asked.

Patrick cringed. He had hoped that Stephan was just posing as his lawyer to get the last bit of information Patrick had on him. He didn't want to get Stephan caught up in this. Of course, saying so was useless. Stephan was as stubborn as a mule, especially when it came to his best friend's safety.

Patrick sighed. “Sure. Let's talk strategy.”

^^^^^

Patrick collapsed upon his cot. It was done. Fini. Kaput. By the next day, he would be dead from electrocution. Joy. And to make matters worse, none of this even had to happen if he had just accepted that thing's offer! And... and...

It wasn't long before he started punching the bed in frustration. “Why didn't I accept that thing's offer?!” He cursed his earlier idiocy. “I wouldn't be any worse off... and... RRAAAAGHH!”

Before too long, the bed, frame and all, was mangled beyond belief. This proved problematic when he realized how tired he was. Sighing, he tried to make the wreckage as bedlike as possible and fell on top of it.

Why had he been such an idiot? Now Stephan would be dragged into this...

Patrick sighed. Nothing to it, not anymore. he rolled to his side and tried to get some sleep.

^^^^^

Patrick woke up in his office. This confused him quite a bit. 'Last I remember, I was in jail... what the heck?'

His musings were interrupted by the door opening, revealing a new - and rather unusual - client. "...I'm guessing this is a dream. My normal clients aren't ponies."

"Guilty as charged." The pegasus... unicorn? The pegacorn responded in a familiar voice as she sat down. "I gather from your expression that you recognize our voice?"

"Yep... you're that entity from the theater, right?" Patrick asked as he sized the equine up. She carried herself with a regal air, as if she was royalty. Her coat was navy blue and her mane and tail looked like the night sky.

"Precisely, though you may refer to us as 'Princess Luna', though if you wish, just 'Luna' will do."

Patrick raised an eyebrow at that. "I... see. Princess Luna, do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"Normally I would allow it, but I'm afraid that I will soon have to return to my world. With or without you."

"I accept your offer." Patrick said without hesitation or even letting the Princess repeat the offer.

"While I appreciate your eagerness, I feel I must clarify; If you accept our offer, you will be given more power than you have ever experienced. Further, you will be moved to a haven to rest and recover, a place where your adversaries cannot easily reach.

"This comes at no small cost, however. Should you accept this offer, there will be changes irrevocable, ones you may find... less than satisfactory. Do you still accept our offer?"

For a split second, doubts swarmed in Patrick's mind, but he quickly pushed them out of his mind. “...Yeah. I don't really have any choice anymore. I accept your offer.”

Luna nodded. "Very well. This may hurt a bit..."

She was wrong. It hurt a lot.

A jolt of pain came from his spine as it bent into a more quadrupedal stance. His fingers fused together into hooves, followed by his toes. His skull changed its very shape, causing pain so unbearable that he passed out, only faintly aware of one last jolt of pain as his tailbone lengthened.

He now looked completely different, much more equine. "Our first ally of many." Luna whispered as the dreamscape warped and shifted, signaling a transportation between worlds.

Author's Note:

Hey all! So, this is my first story here. I try not to judge my own works so please feel free to give me feedback, so long as it's your actual opinion. Hate mail is not accepted here.
Also: Fear Patrick, the Bedslayer. He comes for your mattress.

Edit: A few additions here & there.