Chapter 3: Griffin the Third Degree
Starlight Over Detrot
Chapter 3: Griffin The Third Degree
While some magical analytic tools are used in modern crime scene investigation, magic does not, by itself, solve crimes. You cannot wave a horn and separate the innocent from the guilty, and certainly not for lack of trying on the part of arcane researchers. Various avenues have been attempted, but none have proven sufficiently ironclad.
You can tell if somepony is lying by casting a spell. However, for all but the most simplistic of inquiries, the lie can take almost any form. It becomes very difficult to tell the truth under the influence of a lie detecting spell, because nopony remembers anything with absolute perfection. False positives are far too endemic for lie detection to be reliable.
Detecting guilt is possible within known magic, but what you ultimately get is personal guilt, not legal culpability. Therefore, you will get stronger ‘guilt’ readings from a bereaved widow who feels remorseful because she wasn’t there for her significant other than you will from the depraved multiple serial killer actually responsible for said pony’s demise.
You can extract memories from ponies, but ponies are vast repositories of memories. You might get the memory you want from a pony you’re interrogating. You might also get a dream they had after too many hay fries. Or what they thought of when you described the crime. Or the full lyrics to the pop music hit “Evil Dances.”
Magically divining the cause of the crime is also possible-but-useless, in this case because nopony has been able to beat the legal concept of "proximate cause" into magic. Without that, any given crime contains a functionally infinite number of events and entities without which the crime would not have happened. Such magic proved as likely to point the hoof at Princess Celestia as it might an actual killer, because certainly that murder wouldn’t have happened the way it had if Equestria had spent thousands of years as an absurdist unreality under Discord’s thrall.
For these reasons, the Detrot Police Department does not rely on magic. They instead tend to rely on evidence, deduction, intuition, logic, and the occasional fragment of blind, unadulterated luck.
--The Scholar
I will freely admit that I’m not a fashionable stallion. I’m sure some of the ties in my drawers would have been quite chic during Celestia’s college years. Realizing that about myself was very helpful, because when it came to judging trends, I could more or less lump them into two categories: ugly or ridiculous.
The High Step Hotel called on the worst of both. It looked like somepony had tried to jam a log cabin into the underside of a Canterlot pleasure temple, then stuck a garden on top with no regard for continuity or theme. The front facade was a mass of faux cracked marble with faded white steps leading up to a wide porch in the style of a country plantation. A few lightly molded, whitewashed rocking chairs tilted back and forth in the mid-morning gusts.
Behind the aging edifice's ridiculous porch it seemed to have grown a short skyscraper like a malignant tumor. It stretched up for a full ten stories, then abruptly terminated in a spilling mass of vines that hung down over the eaves of the roof. The styles the rich enjoy will forever mystify me.
Around the hotel was the sort of badly uplifted, socially acceptable poverty which sometimes happens when a city suddenly booms and busts within a single generation. Across the road and on either side, older, smaller hotels still managed to eke out an existence in the shadow of their imposing rival. The High Step sat amongst them like an elderly king gone to fat, holding court with upstarts all seeking to usurp its place as high-lord of kitsch.
Affluent equines still screwed on the hotel’s silken sheets while reminiscing about all the other ponies who’d done the same. They might even have offered a sad lament for the decline of such a fine establishment, all the while not doing a damn thing to stop it.
****
The ring road around the hotel was clogged with press vehicles and police cars all vying for the last few parking spaces. Taxi took one look at the metal melange, then swung us down a side road. We ended up finding an alley into which to wedge the cab, at a fair distance from the crime-scene. I did some advanced gymnastics getting out of the barely cracked door; Swift dragged herself through the sunroof rather than step out into what smelled like a heap of offal from a nearby butcher shop that’d been carelessly dumped in the hoofpath.
Putting my hooves up on the top of the cab, I looked down through the roof at our driver still sitting there, her eyes tightly shut as she murmured incomprehensibly to herself.
“You sure you don’t want to join us, Sweets? It might be something genuinely horrific. There could be intestines hanging from a lamp again. You remember that one?” I grinned with mock nostalgia.
Swift slapped a hoof over her lips, which didn’t prevent the escape of an alarming gurgle. I gave her a glance; she was a little bit green around the gills, which was a bad color on her safety-sticker-colored face.
Shaking my head, I turned back to Taxi, who was also fighting a massive internal conflict, albeit one in her head instead of her gut. She was slumped over the steering wheel, looking like a yellow party balloon somepony had deflated.
“Hardy, I can’t...”
“Sure you can! Come on, it’ll be fun. You can say some prayers or something. Do a little Buffalo dance for the cameras and we might even make it on the six’o’clock news.”
With an irritated scowl she reached over and turned the radio on full blast, twisting the dial like a knife in my skull. I jerked back as the soulful shrieking of a heavy metal band filled the car. At least, I think it was heavy metal, because it sounded like guitars being put through an industrial grinder. Kicking up my rear hooves, I galloped out of the tiny makeshift parking space before my headache could sneak back, stopping only once I’d reached the sidewalk.
Swift was quick on my heels. She dropped onto the pavement, folding her wings against her side as she looked back towards the car with a puzzled expression. “Sir? Didn’t you say Taxi was hired as a consultant?”
“Yep. Sweets might be all ‘goodness and light’ but she’s also one of the most gifted crime scene investigators under Celestia’s sun. Don’t ask me why she went into narcotics and not Equicide.”
“So... Shouldn’t she be coming with us to... um... consult?”
“She’ll be along in a moment. I’ve done this dance with her about once a month since she came back from her ‘vacation.’ Let her stew in her own curiosity for about five minutes.”
I winked at the rookie, then aimed myself at the High Step and its attendant crowd of vulturous news mongers.
They say ponies evolved as herd animals, and I believe it. I’ve seen PACT defensive formations that were less intimidating than the dense aggregation of random bodies between me and the crime scene. Once the press had been pulled off the corpse and pushed behind the police line, they were stuck for anything to do but snap pictures of the cops and the occasional cleaning pony coming in for their shift at the High Step, but they still felt like there was too much of a story here to disperse. Not even the imminent threat of a torrential downpour from the snarling thunderheads gathering in the heavens could get them out of the street; instead, every being in the massive crowd of rubbernecking civilians and hawkishly watching news creatures simply kept their umbrellas close in anticipation.
Come on Hardy! Let’s go! It’s only ten thousand voracious idiots with microphones looking to analyze your every word and declare it policing gospel. What can they possibly do to you?
I’ve never been good with pep talks; I’m even worse with self-administered ones.
Setting off at only slightly less than a full gallop, I simply charged at the crowd, hoping they’d only notice me once I’d managed to get close enough to the police line to duck into the waiting safety of my fellow officers. Swift gamely followed me into the melee of jockeying cameras on hoof rather than leaping over them. I’m sure she thought she was showing support for her poor earthbound superior, but I still resented her a little bit just for having the option.
Using sharp knees, I managed to shove my way through the outer edge of the mass of shifting bodies; but then, like sharks tasting blood in the water, they caught sight of Swift in her crisp uniform. It took the herd ten seconds to put us at the center of a forest of microphones. The flash bulbs sounded like firecrackers going off next to my face, and the ponies themselves were mere shadows behind the bombardment of lights. Swift was all but blinded, standing there helplessly rubbing her dazzled eyes. I grabbed the kid around the shoulders with one leg and began dragging her towards our goal: the yellow police tape on the other side of the herd.
That yellow line was the one boundary they seemed to respect, because they certainly didn’t respect personal space. A particularly pushy almond-coated unicorn, whose auburn mane spilled down her shoulders in thick curls that must have taken an army of beauticians to achieve, shoved her floating mic almost directly into my mouth. “Detective! Detective Boiled! Sugar Lace here from PNN! Can you confirm the identity of the deceased?”
I made to snap at the black rod in front of my muzzle but she jerked it back as I barreled past her. “I haven’t even seen the body yet. Get out of the way. I haven’t had breakfast and I swear I’ll eat that mic!”
The reporter pony twirled breathlessly to a brown colt standing behind her, one with a huge TV camera mounted on his saddle and a focus lens over one eye. “Sugar Lace here with this report from the scene of a violent death just outside of Detrot’s famous High Step Hotel! No word yet from the police on a suspect but we do have a comment from one of our favorite sources, Detective Hard Boiled! We’ll be showing that later on!”
I quailed inwardly as we edged away from the reporter. Despite the fact that most of what I said into microphones was invective, the Chief and I would no doubt have had words later if I’d become a ‘favorite source’ to that overdone news nag. I say ‘words’; what I mean is that she would likely have screamed a lot and flung me around her office until I threw up.
Grasping the edge of one of Swift’s large wings in my teeth, I tugged it until she unfolded the broad appendage. I ducked underneath and put one hoof across her back. She saw what I was doing and swept her other wing forward, shielding her face. The cameras still flashed, but the blasts of light slowly died off as the ponies operating them realized there was no way in Equestria to take a picture of Swift’s ridiculous coloration without some sort of sun-filter, although that didn’t get the ponies out of the way.
Just when I thought I might have to fire warning shots to get through the crowd, a bowel-loosening, primal shriek split the air. Suddenly, the field of shoving bodies scattered to safe distance. Pulling my partner’s wing away from my face, I saw Sugar Lace huddled almost underneath her camera crew, her eyes skyward.
“Sir? What was that?” said Swift.
The black shadow that fell over us was almost as long across as ten ponies standing nose to tail. A thick, rolling brogue seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously: “Aye! Ye vomitous gobshites! Give me mate some feckin’ room!”
As it occurred to me to look up, a heavy, powerful body dropped from on high, crashing onto the road in front of us and yanking me from underneath Swift’s wing with both taloned forelegs. I found myself crushed against a downy breast in an affectionate hug that came inches from actually breaking most of my bones. I managed to choke out something that the huge devil must have taken as a plea for air, because a moment later I was unceremoniously dropped. “Heh, soirry ‘bout that, Hardy me colt! Oi ain’t seen ye in such a long toime oi roightly lost me head!”
The being looming over me might have been the mad breeding of a golden eagle and a great cat. He was wearing a huge yellow tarpaulin around his shoulders like a rain poncho. He looked down at me with an amber-eyed predator’s gaze, his flesh-rending beak clicking softly. It was an audio version of what passes for an affectionate grin in a species without lips.
Once I could breathe, I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Celestia save me... Sykes?”
“Aye me, tis!” The griffin thumped his broad chest and his cheeks rose a little as he attempted a smile. His oaken brown coat had a few extra grey hairs and his shaggy leg fur had seen better days, but all in all it was the same old Sykes; a skid-row savage with a badge and not one hint of decorum. Never was there a more reliable cop under Celestia’s sun.
“I heard you flew off and went monster hunting or something. What brought you back? And why didn’t you call? I’d have bought you a drink.” I thumped him on the shoulder and he dragged his claws over the asphalt, looking bashful.
“Well, me laddy, truth is oi were on an undercover wid Magical Items in Canterlot. Buncha them noble types smugglin’ zebra artifacts to the dragons. Busted it up right proper oi did! M’soirry oi didn’t ring ye when oi got back.”
I waved off the apology with a slap of my tail against my thigh. “It happens. What brought you back to Equicide? You miss the local flavor?”
Sykes waved one talon in what I assumed was a rude gesture. “Ye eat out of the evidence freezer one time and yer branded fer feckin’ life...”
I chuckled. Whatever else he might be, Sykes was always a laugh. He had the sort of rough carnivore’s humor that I tended to like and a no-nonsense attitude towards police work. It made him an asset on even the most gruesome cases, where morale starts to flag if things don’t get wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow.
He mimed tossing back a pint of beer as he continued. “There was me just coolin’ me heels at the pub when Telly, that sweet siren temptress, rings me up and says ‘Ye want some work that don’t involve watchin’ a buncha poncin’ nobles?’ Methinks the newspaper be breathin’ down Chief Jade’s neck about ‘species doiversity’ in the ranks again.”
Something caught his attention. He peered around my side, tilting his head in that disturbing way only avians can. “Now oo’s this then? Laddy! Did ye bring me lunch? ‘Ow koind!”
I felt that something bump into my rear legs, so I scooted to one side. It was Swift, crouched behind me, her bit-trigger in her teeth and her terrified features fixed on Sykes. Thankfully, the safety on her little pop-gun was still on.
Hooking one rear leg around the rookie, I dragged her forward. The griffin’s honey colored eyes bored into the tiny pegasus; her ancient prey instincts took over and she did her best to make herself very small. It might have been millenia or longer since griffins chased pegasi through the skies over Equestria, but I doubted she’d ever met one of his size or demeanor. If you didn’t know him, he was intimidating even when he was being friendly.
“Officer Swift, I want you to meet Detective Sykes. Don’t mind him. He’s just a big kitty wearing a chicken costume.” I grinned at them, putting one hoof on my partner’s back; I could feel her heart racing even through her police barding. Swift turned her head warily to catch my eye, and I nodded encouragingly. After a deep breath, she shook herself, muttered ‘Beohoof,’ and thrust out one leg. And then, she uttered quite possibly the most intimidating official introduction in the history of the DPD:
“I’m Officer Swift and I’m nobody's lunch!”
I covered myself with a short coughing spell; Sykes didn’t bother. He pitched over onto his back, rolling around on the muddy cement, letting out loud peals of mirth. “Bwaaahahaha! Oh boyo, Oi likes this ‘un!” He howled, clutching his sides.
Trotting over I gave him a prod in the ribs, though I may as well have poked a rock with a piece of limp spaghetti. “Oh, give it a rest. You remember what it’s like your first day.”
Wiping tears from his eyes with the backs of his dark furred forelegs, the griffin rolled over and shook the dirt off his poncho. Reaching up from a sitting position he grasped Swift’s foreleg and give her a shake firm enough to lift her off the ground. “Whooo... Oi needed that! Welcome to Detrot Police Department, Missy. Long may ye live and quick may ye die.”
Swift’s ears flattened against the sides of her head as she regained her balance from the vigorous greeting. “Um... thank you?”
“It’s a griffin’s version of a blessing, kid.” I explained. “When you consider they used to fight dragons bare-clawed and you can live about two days with half your skin burned off, it makes more sense.”
“...Oh.” It was all Swift could apparently think of to say.
The news ponies had moved in again, though they were giving Sykes a wide berth. I flicked my eyes at Sugar Lace, who was practically hanging over the police tape to hear us. “Can we move this over someplace less public?”
Sykes got up, casually flipping his tail in the air and flashing his prodigious rear at the cameras. “Aye, lets. Speakin’ of less public, did oi hear rightly that ye have yerself a driver now? Oi’m afraid Oi been outta the loop.”
“Iris Jade yanked my license. Everypony’s had their laughs already, so I’m afraid you’re a bit late to the party. It was either this or make coffee for the office until the sun goes out.”
Swift followed behind us, staying cautiously close to my side and shooting Sykes guarded looks. She seemed to have relaxed somewhat when she learned Sykes was a fellow officer, but that didn’t completely trump thousands of years of evolution telling her a beasty might just swoop down and have her for dinner.
We were approaching the shifting group of ponies in uniform around the center of the crime scene. Most of them seemed to be standing around trying and failing to look purposeful, but a few of the older ones were clustered around an open box of cupcakes, sipping cheap coffee from the hotel restaurant. The old guard knows when they need to shape up because the boss is coming. They gave me one look and made the determination almost instantly: not the boss.
The crowd parted to let us through, or rather, it parted around Sykes. It was like watching a school of fish shifting around a particularly hungry looking seal. Nopony on the force had ever confirmed the griffin had a genuine taste for pony meat, but he’d never done anything to discourage the idea.
“So what exactly have we got? The Chief was terribly vague.” I asked, shifting my coat and sticking my nose in the pocket to pull out Telly’s initial report. “This damn thing doesn’t even give a gender.”
“Aye, we were still shooin’ off the feckin’ reporters when Oi called that in. Corpse is a mare. No I.D. and nothin’ when we ran her colors and her Cutie Mark. Oi been keepin’ the lab coats off her till ye arrived. Hacks weren’t stupid enough to move the body before we got ’em away, thank the Egg. They tramped all over though.” He waved to a fairly obvious muddy hoofprint where somepony had tried to scrape the muck of the streetcorner off.
The alley was more of a very small backstreet running up one side of the High Step. It was full of overflowing garbage cans and stray bits of trash. A fire-escape spilled down one side of the building, rusty run-off staining the ground and brickwork with a splash of dribbling maroon.
A half dozen ponies in thin, protective clothing lined up against one wall, staring longingly at something behind an industrial dumpster as they passed a steaming flask back and forth between them. The forensics herd was almost dying to get to the body and start poking around. Most of them thought they were the next Fetlock Holmes; I took a smug pleasure in letting them wait.
Just as I rounded the dumpster, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, and the world gradually seemed to pause.
A lot of what Taxi picked up and discarded looked to me like meaningless cosmic babble, but there was something in the basic idea of meditation. Taking a moment to relax, clear and focus your mind was more beneficial than I’d thought early in my career, and I’d probably have been sold on it sooner without all the spiritual frippery. These days I always chose to do it just before laying eyes on a body, while the possibilities of the case were still infinite.
The curious voices of all those reporters and the other officers, muffled only slightly by the confines of the alley, slowly faded to a low hum. Soon, there was nothing to prevent that familiar feeling from welling up in my chest and tingling on my flanks; my Special Talent, making itself tangible. A wrong had been done here. Some primeval part of me that lived in my cutie mark could feel the injustice in front of me, and burned to do something about it.
In that instant, just before I allowed the mystery to reveal itself, I thought myself alive in a way nopony in that crowd out there could possibly imagine.
I opened my eyes.
She was grey as the cloudy skies, her mane and tail both monochrome, though a shade or two lighter than mine. The body lay splayed out on her stomach, like she’d been trying to make a snow-angel in the pavement. Her front legs were bent at unnatural angles and thick, clotted blood had spilled down her face from a head-wound. Her wide, staring eyes were as colorless as the rest of her.
A tattered red dress was draped around her shoulders and down off her rear end. It was the sort one wears on a hot date, simple and slinky. The shiny, silken fabric was ripped, revealing plump and pretty flanks. The girl was a real looker, or at least, she had been. A few years older than Swift, at most.
They say death is always the same. The means and modus operandi of death are virtually limitless but in the end you’re left with a corpse and a hoof-full of questions that will never be answered. A whole life has been snuffed out in an instant and everything they ever thought, felt, or knew is gone. I hated to think I wasn’t fazed by that prospect any longer. It would have meant the job had finally started to take parts of me I wasn’t happy to lose.
Somepony was fazed, though.
“Excuse me, sir...” A blur of orange feathers blasted towards the other end of the alley. Swift jammed her head into a metal pail, loudly emptying her stomach of everything she must have had for breakfast.
Sykes was leering at Swift with one eyebrow raised. “Moi sweet mother, ye’ve got a big stomach there, eh scrubby?” He chided her. The young pegasus was still propped with both hooves over the bucket, panting like she’d flown a hundred miles.
I nosed through my coat until I found an old kerchief, then eased up behind her and dropped it over her muzzle. She made a noise that I took for thanks and wiped her lips of a few bits of half digested hay.
“You saw dead bodies in training, right?” I asked. “I refuse to believe our budget’s been cut so thoroughly they excluded seeing at least a couple of cadavers from the curriculum.”
Swift’s cheeks colored and she held out the soiled kerchief. I shook my head and she quickly folded it and stuffed it in one of the ammo pockets of her black combat vest. “That was different...” A full body shudder shot up her back, making her quake like a technicolor leaf. “Their legs weren’t doing that.” I can’t say I much blamed her. Nothing truly prepares you for the reality of seeing somepony who died violently.
I swept my coat under my rump and sat down, then straightened Swift’s uniform with both hooves. “Alright, Officer Swift.” I began formally. She drew herself to attention. I pointed up towards the gap between the High Step and the adjoining hotel. “Go take a look up there. See what you can see.”
The rookie’s face split into a grateful smile and she rocketed off the ground with two beats of her wings that sent her up past the fire escape, dodging around a hanging clothes line.
Sykes stepped up beside me, watching her go. “Ye sure that’un is gonna hack it?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose with the back of one knee. “If she doesn’t, I may as well start taking your order for latte because that’s the closest I’ll get to a crime scene. I’ll make a cop out of her if I don’t end up shooting her first.”
“Black with extra sugar, laddy.”
I swatted in his direction with my tail. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
I was about to kneel down beside the body for a closer look at her cutie mark when a commotion at the other end of the alley pulled my attention. A familiar voice was arguing with somepony. “Ahhh, there’s our consultant.”
I felt a wave of smug satisfaction as I was proven right yet again, but that wave wasn’t long for the world. A young, fresh-faced pink earth pony in a uniform only slightly less starched than Swift’s darted around the garbage can, shouting. “Sir! Sir, come quick! There’s a crazy mare out here and she just poked Sergeant Street Wise and I don’t think he’s breathing!”
Dear Sun and Moon, please let it be some other crazy mare.
****
I left Sykes and raced out of the alley to find Taxi laying face down across the top of a police cruiser in two sets of hoofcuffs, one for her front legs and one for her back. My driver’s eyelids were shut, and she was muttering a mantra of some kind very softly. She seemed a lot more peaceful than the heavy-set pegasus apparently named Street Wise, who was on the ground on his back, being tended to by two other officers. A bit of foam was dripping from one side of his mouth as he stared at the sky, pupils smaller than the holes made by a .22.
I snatched the lapel of the officer who’d called me from the crime scene and drew him up short. “Alright, what did Street Wise say to her before she poked him?”
He looked left, the right, trying to find some support from the other uniforms on scene, but finding none, he lowered his head. “He said she looked like a sneaky reporter trying to get a late scoop.”
I stuck my face less than an inch from his, my voice full of menace. “That’s it?”
He backed up as I advanced on him, bumping his rear against the side of a somber blue paddy wagon. “Uh...he...um...” His eyes darted back and forth as he squirmed like a fly pinned to a wall. “When... when she took her saddlebags off to get her temp badge, he said ‘We don’t need no ponies without talents telling us how to do our jobs.’ Then she hit him and he fell over.” I noticed Taxi’s black and white luggage laying beside her.
His gazed twitched towards Sweet Shine’s prone body, then towards her hips as he added. “Street Wise is new. He just transferred from Los Pegasus. He didn’t know!”
I snatched the hoofcuff keys off his belt and marched over to Taxi before the pink officer could protest. She opened her eyes as she heard me coming and smiled peacefully, like she’d just come from a three day meditation retreat rather than almost crippling somepony. It was the sort of smile that masks a mountain of old pain.
The foothills of that mountain were clearly visible: The scars on her flanks were a vicious sight. They started a few inches from her tail and went right around to her hips in one long, jagged cut. Many smaller slices radiated from the central wound, leaving a blank, irregular patch of healed-over flesh where the fur had never properly grown back.
Picking up her bags I tossed them over her backside, adjusting the strap so they were tight around her belly, then went about the process of unlocking her forelegs. As soon as the metal bracelets came off her knees she rubbed them for a second then shoved herself down off the car. “Thanks, Hardy...”
I couldn’t keep annoyance out of my tone. “Don’t give me ‘Thanks Hardy’. What’s wrong with you today? First that PACT trooper this morning and now this?”
“His fault.” She said, pursing her lips. Her features held all the carefully constructed calm of cut stone.
“Yes, his fault, but are you seriously going to let him get you so riled up you end up charged with assaulting an officer? I’m half inclined to let you spend a night in a cell.”
That might as well have been water off a duck’s back for all the effect it had on her. “If you feel that’s necessary.”
She met my disappointed gaze with her impassive, emotionless expression. Finally, I gave in, and helped her straighten her bags. “Come on, we’ve got a body. Fix the bonehead first.”
Shaking herself as though to cleanse her mind of the last of her embarrassment she walked over beside the fat, supine form of Street Wise. One of the officers beside him moved to stop her, but I waved him off.
Lowering herself to the ground beside the officer she put her lips next to one of his ears and whispered something then gave him a sudden, sharp kick in the ribs. He gasped for breath, spasmed, then fell onto his side as his body started operating again. Fear filled his face and he rolled over, scooting away from Taxi until he fell over the surprised officer in a heap of flailing legs.
“What did you say to him?” I asked as we moved away from the quaking officer and the sea of stunned faces.
“Oh, nothing much. Something about how I’d come back and pull his soul out through his penis if he ever disrespected a mare again.”
“I’m pretty sure you just killed that stallion’s marriage. He’ll be lucky if he can get an erection for the next six months.”
“Hmmmph... His fault.”
****
Sykes froze when he saw us coming. His vast dark wings shot straight out from his sides, brushing the walls on both sides and almost braining one of the forensics ponies. “Laddy, ye never said your droiver was Sweet Shine!”
Taxi, for her part, skidded to a halt faster than her cab could and turned on her heels. She was halfway out of the alley when I caught up to her.
“What? Taxi, talk to me. Don’t tell me you and Sykes are going to have it out this morning, too!”
She turned to face me so fast I almost ran into her, and she hissed through clenched teeth, “You didn’t even tell me Mr. Beam Boom himself would be here. If you had, I’d have let you walk.”
The griffin had silently taken off and now landed behind her, blocking the exit of the alley. “Now, Miss Sweets...”
“Taxi! Don’t you dare call me by that name, Sykes. Not after what you pulled!”
“Oi toldja a thousand times, it weren’t my fault them drugs exploded! Nopony told me that ware-house was full of anythin’ but artifacts. Iffen’ Narcotics had shared that we woulda taken a light touch...” He held his claws out, placating.
The various branches of Detrot P.D. had as diverse a set of operating procedures as there are crimes under Celestia’s sun. Narcotics prefered interception and disposal under controlled conditions. Magical Items found they had the greatest success with high explosives.
There are many contraband enchanted objects which would gleefully enslave, ensnare, desiccate, or rearrange anypony who got close to or mishandled them, and which are contraband for precisely those reasons. The prevailing opinion in Magical Items was that if it was not guaranteed possible to control the artifacts in question, then it was often better to simply destroy them on site. While some magic items had ludicrous and highly specific destruction requirements, like needing to be taken to the fires of an enchanted volcano or crushed under the hoof of an honest pony, the vast majority responded quite well to P4. Slipping a wad of plastic explosives into a crate of illegal artifacts was pretty standard procedure.
That didn’t matter to Taxi right now, though. The cabbie’s facade of calm indifference was gone. Here, then, was Taxi under full steam and with a head full of anger that’d been building since early morning. She jammed her soft, lemon colored nose against his sharp beak. Despite the size difference, Sykes was the one who seemed to shrink under her driving stare.
“I spent six months undercover living above a club for mares-in-socks freaks, wearing earplugs every single night just so I could sleep, to make that bust. Magical Items wanted a jurisdictional pissing contest and you ended it with a hoof-full of explosives!” She snarled at him and his wings clamped tight against his sides.
The griffin’s rear-legs collapsed and he sat heavily, looking for all the world like a very large kitten being scolded for getting into the treats. The scene would have been patently absurd if I hadn’t just watched Taxi incapacitate a pony twice her size with one hoof.
Sykes tried to recover some of his bluster but as he lifted his head he found himself on the level with Taxi’s genuinely terrifying expression. “H-hey! O-oi was l-laid up in hospital for two weeks! Oi had a head full of Beam and thought pigeons was peckin’ me feathers out! Give us a break, lass!”
“Oh, I’ll give you a break --”
I put a hoof on her shoulder, pulling her around. She tried to turn that dangerous, hypnotic gaze on me, but thankfully I’d long since developed an immunity.
“Hardy, you take your leg off --” she started, but I shoved her back against the wall, rearing up to put my legs on either side of her head. Her eyes widened slightly in alarm as she fell on her tail.
“Sweets, that’s enough.” I growled into her ear, too low for eavesdropping lab coats to hear. I felt a ring of curious gazes crawl across the back of my neck. Jerking my chin at them, I whickered irritably. The idle crime scene investigators all discovered an intense interest in examining their legs, coffee mugs, and trash further down the alley.
I turned back to Taxi. I was close enough to detect the strong incense in her fur and, under that, the unique sweetness I’d always associated with her ever since we were foals. Her breathing was husky and shallow.
“Hardy, you can’t --” she began again.
“Quiet.”
“I will not be --”
“Sweet Shine! You’re going to listen.”
She could have broken my nose. I might even have deserved it. Instead, at the sound of her full name, a bit of fear and uncertainty crept into her expression as she slowly nodded. Taking that as a sign I wasn’t due for another trip to the hospital, I kept my voice low and went on.
“Your personal history with Sykes doesn’t mean a damn thing to that dead filly over there. Whatever parasprite has gotten into your bonnet, it’s going to go on hold until we’re done finding out what happened to her so we can give that girl some peace in the Everafter. If that’s an inconvenience, you can get off my crime scene. Is that clear?”
She looked at the contritely crouching griffin and then back at me. Her ears drooped against her checkerboard mane as the anger flowed out of her, leaving an unsettling hollowness.
I stepped back and waited for her reply. It wouldn’t have been the first time her rebuttal had left me in a body-cast, but I like to think I’ve gotten a little more durable since we were foals wrestling on the trampoline in my backyard. Fortunately, I did not have to find out; she lowered her head and pulled away, refusing to meet my eyes. She muttered half-heartedly, “I’m sorry. I should be handling this better.”
“Handling what better? If whatever is going on is going to make you tear off somepony’s head, take a leave of absence. You’re not the only cab in the city.”
Her gaze snapped up and she gave me a push with her forehooves but I managed to keep my balance. “Is that all I am? Your ride?” She sounded hurt, but there wasn’t any real force behind the rebuke.
“You’re the only one I’d choose, Sweets. Come on, I need you today.” I said with a consoling whinny, brushing her braid back from her face.
Drawing in a breath, she called up some strength from her truly staggering inner reserves and got to her hooves, her cool, serene expression settling back into place. It wasn’t so much for my benefit as that of the forensics ponies who were nervously camping around a stinking heap of full garbage bags just inside earshot.
“I’ll... I’ll see the body now. I don’t want to talk about what’s going on right now, but please, ask me later, alright?”
I nodded firmly. “Yes, ma’am. Our karma is on the clock after all. I’ll buy the first round of drinks when you’re ready, even if it’s that Manehattan trash with the fruit in it you like so much.” That brought a tentative smile to her sunflower pigmented lips.
Reaching into the outermost pocket of her saddlebag, I plucked out a pair of jeweler’s goggles and a pair of latex hoof-covers. I tugged the glasses over her head, then lifted her forehooves and pulled the gloves over them with a satisfying snap. She stood there like a foal being dressed for school until I was done.
As I shifted the magnifying lenses on the jeweler’s goggles down over her eyes and she came alive like a puppet whose strings had been pulled taut. Stalking over to the body of the poor dead mare she stopped, dropping onto her haunches beside her and making a few complex motions with her forelegs over the girl’s bloodied form. Taxi blew a kiss at the bottoms of the Jane Pony’s hooves, then touched her cheek then looked up at me expectantly.
“What was the time of death?” Taxi inquired, running an idle hoof over the lovely dress.
Sykes answered before I could. “Best guess, early this mornin’. Cleanin’ crew found ‘er and called the press. Reporters was all over the lass when we arrived.”
“Couldn’t you have told us that before we got unpacked?” groused somepony behind me. I glanced back at the huddle of eggheads swilling the last of their flask down; a unicorn mare only a few inches taller than Swift, who seemed to be the leader, nickered irritably at us. She had an enormous silver nose ring and a swirl of rose petals tattooed along the fur on her neck, just above the neckline of her lab coat. “This scene is totally contaminated. We may as well just take pictures!”
Our griffin compatriot shifted his weight from one set of legs to the other, incidentally flexing his claws and digging deep gouges in the composite cement. “Must of slipped me moind. Yer paid per job, roight? Ye can stand a little waitin’ around.”
She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response; instead, she waved her subordinates back. They began dejectedly tucking away their plastic baggies and pulling out the heavy photography lenses.
I snatched a rubber glove from the front pocket of the pony with the nose ring, snapped it on and eased down beside Taxi. “You have a cause of death?”
She glanced up at the skyline then shrugged. “She fell. I’d say somepony or something chased her off the roof. It was a blind jump and she didn’t quite make it. I doubt it was suicide.”
I craned my neck to see the roof nearest the High Step. It was at least a story shorter, but still too far away for a jump.
Sykes butted in. “What makes ye think it’s not suicoide, eh?”
Taxi plucked at the girl’s upper lip lightly, pulling it back to reveal several broken teeth. “She hit the wall face first. If she was trying to kill herself, she’d have stepped off. She was at a full gallop.”
Something sparkled beneath her tangle of hair, so I lifted her matted grey mane off of her ear. The cabbie and I found ourselves both momentarily captivated by a vision of real beauty. Three cherry red rubies hung from a delicately formed golden stem with a single, large green stone which was cut into the shape of a leaf. The earring was a work of art. It managed to be simultaneously flamboyant, subtle, and sexy.
Sykes let out a long, low whistle. “Me oh moi. Our girly had herself some properly noice fashion sense, thinks oi.”
“What would you know about fashion, Sykes? During your first year in the job, you tried to arrest somepony for ‘criminal negligee.’” Taxi smirked, cocking an eye at him.
The griffin puffed his chest feathers up. “Ye didn’t see what they was wearin’!”
I was about to add my own comment to the effect that Sykes was clearly an eclectic bird with an impeccable sense of high fashion, hence his sunflower colored plastic poncho, but at that moment, a hot, sticky mass splashed down my back legs. Time seemed to stop as I looked down at a morass of semi-liquid hay and carrot chunks pooling around my rear hooves.
Swift dropped out of the sky, both forelegs over her mouth as she hung there in front of me. “Oh, sir, I’m so sorry... I found blood on the wall and a tooth on a ledge about seven stories up.... Oh Celestia, I got it all down your tail...”
‘There’s already been a death today, Hardy. Two will not help the amount of paperwork you have to do,’ I thought, clenching my teeth.
Sykes was standing there with an expression like a stunned goose. Taxi’s lower jaw was bobbing up and down like she was trying to find something to say but she only make a soft squeak.
“Officer Swift Cuddles. Get down here, please.”
The pegasus dropped in front of me and lowered her head, clearly expecting me to set fire to her or banish her or something along those lines. I was tempted. I’m pretty sure if I’d ordered her out of the country just then, she’d have asked if she could pack first or if she should just go straight away.
Instead, I shrugged out of the vomit-drenched coat and laid it carefully across her back. “Find the hotel laundry room. Have this cleaned. Cold water only. No magic. Go now.”
The bolt of orange fur that zipped out of the end of the alley could have beaten the goggles off a Wonderbolt in a sprint to the laundromat. As she left, I slapped my tail against a dumpster, shaking off bile and whatever remnants of my new partner’s first meal had still been in her stomach after the first round of nausea. Both Sykes and Taxi were watching me like a rabid mongoose who’d suddenly decided to do a tap-dance.
“What?! If either of you have something to say, say it!” I shouted. They looked at each other, then held up their forelegs.
“I’m nothing but kind thoughts.”
“Moi beak is sealed, lad.”
Settling back beside the cabbie and straightening my tie I took a deep breath. It wasn’t a pleasant breath but then, the mare’s body had been laying out for a while and the rich stink of blood still permeated everything. Thankfully, she hadn’t voided her bowels when she hit the ground, but nothing would dissuade the flies which had started to congregate in a persistently buzzing horde around us.
“Alright, lets see her cutie mark.”
Taxi very gently pushed the slinky red skirt up around the filly’s croup. The image sitting just above her thigh was very similar to her ear-rings; Three grayscale jewels, the stem, and the leaf. Alongside that was a long, curving crescent of deep maroon that started at the top of the mark and swung around, almost like a waning moon.
I scratched my chin and asked nopony in particular, “Huh, gem-working and... something to do with fruit?”
Tracing the shape with her toe, Taxi compared the mark to her jewelry. “I’d be willing to call jewelry her special talent. These are exquisite. They’re measured specifically for her.” She carefully manipulated the mare’s ear in several directions; the accessory didn’t so much as tap against the skull.
“So our victim was a jeweler. In Detrot. That’s terribly unhelpful. Even with the price of uncut stones around here these days, I’ll bet you half the out of towners who come here are artists of different flavors trying to make it rich.” I opined grimly, snatching my hat as a quick blast of wind between the buildings almost swept it off. The storm was coming on at an alarming pace and the forensics ponies were looking antsy.
Taxi squinted at the girl’s forehead, then hummed a little tune as she pushed the hair back from the Jane Pony’s pale, pretty face. “You know, head-wounds bleed a lot but this doesn’t look consistent with blunt force trauma. Swift said she found blood up there. That says to me she was already bleeding when she hit...”
Leaning in close she let out a faint neigh of surprise, pointing at the source of the wound. It seemed to be almost perfectly circular, and around the edges a bony ridge rose slightly above the flesh.
I twisted around to look at the white coats. They’d just finished pulling out their equipment and were in the process of setting up several light sources. I grabbed ‘Nose-Ring’ as she strolled by. “Did any of you see her horn?”
She blinked at me then down at the deceased. “Horn... wait, the dead bint was a unicorn?”
“Yes, and show some respect. Go, look around. See if you can find her horn.”
Sykes dipped his head down below the level of the dumpster, quickly scanning underneath everything nearby. “Oi don’t see it. If it broke in the fall it moight have gone anywhere. One’a them reporters moight have picked it up.”
Taxi brushed a little dried blood away from the hole on one side then adjusted a knob on the side of her glasses. Lenses shifted with an audible click and she peered closely at what was left of the protruding horn. “Huh. This doesn’t look broken at all. It looks like it was cut with something.”
I flicked my tail, driving away another cloud of flies from my back. “Cut? Oog. I hope we’re not dealing with some sort of trophy taker. Can you see any evidence of sexual activity? Assault or something like that?”
She lifted the mare’s rear leg, sticking her head uncomfortably close to her genitals. I looked away from the frank examination. Years on and I’d never gotten used to Taxi’s particularly hooves-on style of investigation. She’d rant and rail about the sacredness of life all day, but until a case was solved, a body was a body.
“I don’t see anything. No fluids, no staining, no blood, or bruising. If you want a more scientific breakdown you’ll have to send her to Slip Stitch. This is exactly the sort of thing that weird little prick would love.”
“Alright, I want to know who had access to that roof last night.”
Sykes signaled to the eggheads who started snapping pictures of seemingly random bits of detritus, starting from a few feet back and slowly working towards the corpse.
Taxi said one last prayer and tenderly closed the girl’s staring eyes, then dusted herself off. Tugging off the stained protective socks she tossed them into one of the forensics unit’s brightly labeled bio-waste containers. I did the same then stopped, hovering there with one hoof towards the light coming down off a street-lamp. It wasn’t yet more than an hour after noon, but the darkness of the quickly oncoming thunderstorm made it seem much later.
Something felt wrong. I couldn’t have put a toe on it for all the bits in Canterlot, but my cutie mark was tingling. I’d missed something. The scene was incomplete. An actor missed his cue and now nopony could leave the stage until the line was said. I swung back to the body.
She seemed so peaceful despite the blood spatter and the terrible angle her front limbs were twisted at when she landed. Her trials were at an end. I almost envied her becalmed state.
Squatting down, I tugged the hemline of her dress straight, covering her cutie-mark again. I’ve no idea why that felt important. Maybe some sentimental part of me wished, however little it might have mattered, to give the broken child some dignity.
But as I did so, something shiny skittered from the edge of her dress, shooting between my rear legs. I dropped a toe in front of it an instant before it could drop into an open drain. It was tiny, and covered in a bit of mud. Nudging it lightly with a hooftip, I glanced around for something to pick it up with so I could get a better look. Nothing in the alley looked particularly tasty. Reluctantly, I tugged off my sanitary glove, turned it inside out, and stuck it over my lips. It tasted foul, but picking up evidence bare-mouthed is discouraged pretty strongly.
“What’ve you got there, Detective? Oooh, is that from the body? Goodie!” Nose-ring was standing behind me, holding a baggy in her glittering levitation field. I spat the object into the waiting bag then wiped my lips, trying to get rid of the awful flavor of talcum powder from the inside of the glove.
She brought it close to her face, using a flicker of magic to reach through and very gently pluck away the dirt. “It looks like some kind of... poop. It’s a lapel pin. I was hoping for something like a spy gem or listening device. That would’ve been juicy!”
I never did get that pony’s name, but Nose Ring seemed to suit her. Her interest wasted, she wandered back to harassing her crew for better angle shots on some of the gravel.
The pin was a stylized dragon or serpent, forming a circle by swallowing its own tail. It looked like the sort of thing you’d pick up in a cheap and cheerful accessory shop for tasteless teens. I couldn’t picture the filly who’d made those fine earrings wearing it decoratively unless somepony held a gun to her head.
I set it on top of one of the garbage cans, watching the crew of investigators crawling over the crime scene. Taxi had found a corner, knelt down, and looked to be cleaning her karma with some humming. Sykes was watching the reporters, radiating a mixture of ‘hungry’ and ‘dangerous.’ I could imagine him any moment trying to sweep one of them up and have fly off somewhere to have a snack. I walked in little circles, looking over each individual element of the crime scene. I don’t know what I was searching for but it was a better use of my time than waiting on Taxi to be done with her meditations.
A rush of flapping wings filled the air. I scanned for the source then almost fell on my rump as Swift landed inches from my nose, breathing heavily, with sweat dotting her forehead. Stupid inconsiderate flying turkey... No, Hardy. Be nice.
“Sir! Cold water, no magic. I couldn’t get anything out of the pockets so I had to do it by hoof. Are they magical or something?”
I nodded. “One day, if you’re smart, you’ll spend a paycheck on a coat that’ll keep you warm in the cold and dry in the rain. It’s essential police gear. Telly laid some of that good ol’ File Cloud magic on the pockets. I’m the only one who can get into them. They’ll carry about a saddlebag worth of stuff in each and weigh about a tenth as much.”
She pulled my carefully folded trench-coat off of her back and laid it reverently in front of me. She couldn’t have been gone more than fifteen minutes but it looked like it’d been professionally cleaned. An old catsup stain on one of the sleeves was gone. I could even detect a hint of lemon.
“Some of those stains were practically historical monuments! How did you get...how did you get this clean and dry?!” I demanded, checking in each pocket to make sure at least the surface layer of items was still in the right place.
Her chest swelled with pride. “Dad was a stickler for cleanliness so he taught me how. It’s just a rain-cloud for washing, a little hail for deep scrubbing, and a quick full speed burst from these babies!” Flaring her wings she gave them a few quick pumps, swirling bits of trash around our knees. “I flew home to get something to help my stomach and dried your coat at the same time!”
Slipping into my coat, I jammed my nose into the under-leg and took a deep whiff, inhaling the scent of a brisk morning wind over a dew dappled field at dawn. I’d thought it’d require fire to get rid of the reek of mold, stale sweat and cheap deodorant.
“I think you got the wrong cutie-mark, kid.” I smiled, sweeping my tail back and forth so the coat fell on either side. It even felt softer.
Swift grinned fit to burst for a while, before her eye caught the shine coming off the sealed evidence bag sitting on the garbage can beside me. “What’s that, sir?”
“Came with the body. Might have fallen off the perp when he cut off her horn-”
The rookie’s eyes got big and round. “Cut off her horn?!” She gasped.
I pressed on despite the interruption. “I’m going to show it to Taxi whenever she’s done with... that.” The cabbie was swaying her hips to a non-existent beat, doing a dance that involved rearing up then dropping to her stomach again and again. Thankfully, she’d picked a corner out of view of the press.
Swift lifted herself up on her forelegs to get enough height, but when she got a close look at the pin, her eyes almost popped out of her head. “Oh no.” She whispered, then fell back on her tail, putting her legs over her face.
“What? What is it? Kid, talk to me.”
Taxi was suddenly there at her side, one leg around her. Swift turned against her shoulder and buried her face in my driver’s checked hair. I started to say something else, but the cabbie gave me a look that could have stripped paint.
It was a tense few minutes as the rookie composed herself. I paced back and forth irritably, my horse-shoes clattering on the pavement. At last, after what felt to my curiosity like an hour, Swift straightened, extracting herself from Taxi’s legs. She dragged the pin off the can and held it between her toes, looking at it sadly.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m fine now.” I wasn’t sure I believed her, but her voice was steady. Her hooves shook as she turned the evidence bag over and over. “I know where this came from.”
Sweets was in full mothering mode, gently rubbing the pegasus’ wing muscles. “Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”
The kid stroked the pin like it was something precious. “This is from the Vivarium. The proprietor gives them to very special ponies.”
The Vivarium. I dug around in the back of my head, trying to figure where I’d heard the name before. I’ll be the first to admit there are and probably always will be great gaping holes in my knowledge of my city. Detrot is truly immense; only Canterlot itself can claim a greater population. Even then, for sheer width and breadth, we had the capital beaten. Why so many ponies would have chosen to live out here on the edge of Equestria had always been a mystery to me. Adventure or the spirit of entrepreneurial-ism might explain some, but not all.
Then I had it.
“Isn’t that the old whore house near the bay?”
An odd look crossed Swift’s face; a tightening of the lips and a narrowing of the eyes. Its closest relative was probably embarrassed indignation. “It’s not a whore house, sir. It’s a night club and escort service.” The distinction was wasted on me.
“How do you know something like that? You’ll excuse me if I didn’t think you were the type to moonlight as an escort.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks, turning her whole face phosphorescent pink. “I’m not, sir! I h-have a f-friend who works t-there!” She stuttered, almost tripping over her own rear legs.
“Ahhh, that’s convenient then. I want to talk to the hotel manager first, but we’ll pay the Vivarium’s owner a visit once we’re done here and maybe get an I.D. on our victim. Your friend can introduce us to the proprietor.”
Swift made a face like she’d swallowed a sour apple full of bad cheese and opened her mouth to say something, but Taxi beat her to it. “Hardy, do you know anything about the proprietor of the Vivarium?”
“I don’t make a habit of associating with brothel owners or their employees unless I run into them professionally, and in general, escorts don’t get killed by their madames. If we find a dead street walker, we look for their pimp, their pusher, or their loan shark. Why do you ask?”
Taxi’s smirk was more than a little off-putting, and I felt my hackles rise. “Oh, no reason. I just think you’ll be very surprised-” She stopped mid-sentence and her ears perked up, flitting this way and that.
“What is it?” I asked, but she shushed me with a hoof to her lips.
She pointed towards where Sykes stood like a silent sentry guarding the alley entrance. “Can’t you hear that?”
Turning one ear towards the street, I listened until I finally caught the discordant strains of a cheerful, electronic piano tune trickling down between the buildings over the babble of the crowd of onlookers.
The hack driver’s left eye did a little twitchy dance and she quickly tore off her jeweler’s glasses, stuffed them into her bags and sprinted for the sidewalk, while calling over one shoulder, “That’s Slip Stitch! Unless you’re up for some singing, we need to get inside now!”
I grabbed Swift by the tail and tossed her onto my back. “Damnit! I thought the rule was he wasn’t supposed to show up until after the press are gone!”
“What do you want to bet Telly is playing pranks again?”
The rookie squeaked as we blew past Sykes. The griffin cursed and dashed after us as he realized what the swelling musical ensemble meant.
“Siiiir-” attempted Swift, bobbing along my spine, “Whoo--oo iii-s Sllliii---p Sstiiic---ch?”
“Coroner! Trust me, we don’t want to be on the crime scene with him and those reporters or tomorrow morning we’re going to be all over the front page wearing party hats at a murder!”
The thought of being caught out on a crime scene with the city’s eccentric pathologist in front of the newspapers was enough to loosen the bowels of even the hardiest political personality, much less me. The forensics crew was moving double speed, simply backing their truck up to the alley and tossing lenses and lights into the back. We squeezed around them and made a beeline for the hotel’s front door.
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thanks for the great chapter cant wait for more
967660 This was a nightmare to write. Originally, it was 8,000 words longer but we decided to simply roll that over into Chapter 4 and release this before we moved too much beyond our promised release schedule.
This does have a major upside. Next chapter is already mostly written so we have more time for editing.
I will say, do not worry, Chapter 4 is not going to be shorter. Goddess save me, it might be longer.
-Chessie
968013 Cool its a great story and a good idea thanks for putting time and effort into it
kind of reminds me of the dresden files and that is the best story of all time
Glad to see this keep going. Seriously, loving this so hard right now :D
Still wonderful. Still about the only thing I'll stop and read when I ought to be writing
971536 Dawww, thanks! I woke up feelin' all unmotivated and you gave me a big'ol smile.
-Chessie
I've been trying to find more noir fanfics. Will definitely give this a shot.
976885 Man, this is exactly the sort of critique I love to get. The adjective thing has worried me for some time and I'm always a little heavy on those. I'll do my best to back off a little and make it flow more solidly.
Chapter 3 was VERY difficult (as was Chapter 4) but things should even out slightly as we press on, largely because the framework we have in place now is better.
Trust me, the original was a MESS. We originally had 80,000 words of this story written. Just done, written. Chapter 1 and 2 have been re-written twice.
We made a decision to go back and scrap all of it and re-write it for largely the reasons you've laid out here. I was, a BAD writer back then. Just bad. I'm still in the learning process. Some of my sentences are still awkward and I've got a lot of problems with a schizophrenic pace (I feel it's schizophrenic) but I am improving. I'm just glad to have people interested.
Thank you!
-Chessie
I'm a little surprised and a little humbled that our effort has been received so positively this early in the tale. Thanks, and we'll keep it coming, promise!
976885
I'll be honest - I was actually initially concerned that we weren't getting into it fast enough. Chessie is the one who convinced me that this pacing would work, and your feedback is certainly reassuring me that it is. One of our design mantras is that "It's Not Boring;" that is, as long as we keep interesting things, world tidbits, and character moments happening, it doesn't matter that bullets aren't flying in the initial chapters.
Regardless, we sincerely hope to make the rest of the story live up to our start.
-CEO Kasen
I am thoroughly enjoying this story. The characters, pacing, world-building, and plot are all wonderful. It's a big bonus that you've taken the noir tropes and pushed them just enough to bring them into line with MLP's gentile satire and humor. Your characters are complex, engaging, and likeable. Your world-building is logical and well thought-out. The story is so full of interesting stuff that it moves very quickly. In fact, I sat down with this chapter and got to the end only moments later... or so it seemed!
Can't wait for more. Your characterization and world building are exceptional.
This needs to be turned into a radio play. Get Garrison Keillor from Prairie Home Companion to voice Hard Boiled.
1009344 Well, lets get it written first! This is not a short story by any means but if somepony wants to give that a go later on then I'll probably do whatever I can to help.
-Chessie
Another fun read, interesting characters and pacing.
Oh and curious what accent does the griffin have? I have it in my head as Scottish but i can't be sure because the "oi" throws me a bit.
Heh, I left the accent to the imagination. Think of it as a really thick brogue. I just mixed a Scottish and Irish accent and that's what came out. Don't ask me why. I have no idea.
-Chessie
1010451
Ohh i see. The Oi is definitely Irish, i'll remember that for future reading :3
Is the name Sykes supposed to be a reference to Alien Nation?
"The HIgh Step" should probably be "The High Step", given that's how it's capitalised earlier in the paragraph.
The semicolon should be outside of the single quotes.
To match tense, this should be "gleefully enslave... anypony who got close to or mishandled them".
Aaand chapter finished. Looks like Pinkie Pie's singing magic lives on...
At any rate, this is brilliant so far. Keep up the good work!
An actually good balance on the darkening of Equestria for once. I kind of wonder where it is going at this stage but even given the lack of information I do not think that it will be a lame direction. In addition the story hasn't worked too hard to fit in the main shows cast allowing for a more non forced flow of character development of OC especially. So far the author has done a rather bang up job of making semi-Human like and makes me wonder what the outcome will be.
While I have read other cop dramas with similar elements, this one has been written to take advantage of the facts of the Equestrian story line with out warping itself or the story lines past.
In short I like it so far even it is out of my usual comfort zone. Don't F it up. although at this point with the nice comedic atmosphere in the background Humans as Aliens could not mess this storyline up.
Please do not be insulted. A truly bullet proof story line is a good quality to have in a story. The fact that you have not morphed that into something terrible is proof enough of your skill. Especially since you have not stuck with a single descriptive phrase to make it boring. A good balance I hope the rest of your story is as good.
If the lead singer sounds like a Colobus monkey gargling a fist full of gravel whilst trying to pass a kidney stone the size and shape of a sea-urchin, then yes, that was probably heavy metal.
Yikes!
I guess Narcotics never had to deal with a sudden magical incursion of eldrich horrors from beyond space and time and Magic never had to clean up a slip-shod methamphetamine factory...
Oh my... That sounds like an awkwardly embarrassing charge to go on somepony's criminal record.
I think Swift knows more about the Vivarium than she is letting on. She has mentioned her grandmother and father, but no mention of her mother yet...
It sounds like Pinkie had foals who inherited her penchant for spontaneous street choreography. That must make police procedures in Detrot a bit surreal.
My name is Slip Stitch (Hello!)
And I am looking through this mess (Look at the blood!)
I'm gonna search around and find your cause of death!
It might have been some poison (Can I get a tox kit?)
Or a bullet through and through (Check for casings!)
Crime investigation is just what Stitch is here to do
I'm just going to avoid questions about why it took me so long to find this story and just be glad I found it at all.
On a side note, I'm going to mentally read Sykes' lines in the voice of David Kennedy.
Every passage is like poetry. If I could write half as good as this...
No doubt about it, plugging this one to my readers. This is incredible.
This is from the Vivarium, isn't it?
Great chapter, I can see them running in my head.
Sykes! I love him!
And so our mystery begins.
The story is shaping up to be pretty interesting, and this chapter left with us with a whole lot of unanswered questions. It's too early to make any predictions yet, so I'll hold off until later. And Taxi can kick some ass. I'd definitely be careful not to piss her off. 
is dis going to take 1 mil words? (I'm loving it!)
It's weird, I know I commented on this story when I read it ... years ago ... and yet now, re-reading it (and refreshing my memory on the ~60 chapters I had finished) I don't see a single comment from myself. Oh well. It's still a good story. Glad to see you're still working on it, and I'll avoid the comments from here forward to avoid spoiling anything. :)
Hmm... Seems Swift knows more than she lets on about where that mare came from, but... what caused said mare to make a rooftop escape? And who cut off her horn? There's a lot more to find out before this case is solved...
And what coroner plays an electronic piano on their way to a body?! That makes almost no sense what so ever! Makes me think the guy's as random as Pinkie...
7891283
There are a ton of comments from you, but I think they're a little later on.
-C
8849117
Just you wait. The coroner is one of my favorite characters.
-C
Taxi is currently best pony.
The way Nose Ring was described makes me suspicious. They'll be important later in some fashion or other.
-GM, master of mystery.
9968691 Heh, this was waaay back in the day. I was just giving a couple of irrelevant one-off characters a detail or two.
-Chessie
9968691
You gotta update me as you plow through! I would love to hear your thoughts.
-Chessie
We all missed something. There's so much more to the story it's almost gotten ridiculous.
8849117
Boy, that is a pit you will not return from. Let sleeping dragons lie.
I cant help but read skyes as having a thick aussie accent. And, oh boy, i cannot wait to see who this coroner is.
10501624
He's one of the more beloved characters, yes.
-Chessie
So... one?
I'm finally going back through on my second read now that the story is finished. I already know what happens and it still has me on edge. To people that are picking this up for the first time; this is just a tiny scratch on the surface. Pay close attention to everything and don't give up this read. It's so worth it.
11063086
Ah, getting into all those extra nice little details ya missed the first time, huh?
-Chessie
zzzzz
Man... Sykes... my boy shoulda showed up more chessie why u do dis