• Published 18th May 2017
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Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes - PonyJosiah13



Daring Do is a thief trying for a second chance. Phillip Finder is a private detective with no scruples. Ponyville is a city embroiled in corruption with war on the horizon. They may be the only hope for law and order left.

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Case One, Prologue: The Curtain Rises

The spinning red and blue lights pierced through the darkness of the night, summoning all and sundry to the scene. A small group of ponies gathered on the other side of the cobbled street, staring at the two-story pale green cottage. The pristine little house was just like any of the other dwellings in the suburb; it looked like the last place where anything bad would happen, yet the two black and white motorized police carriages sitting outside provided evidence to the contrary.

A pale gray-coated unicorn stallion with wispy, straw blonde hair stared out of a second-story window. “Jeez, what’s with these ponies?” he muttered. “You’d think that in a city like this, they’d eventually find something else to entertain themselves with.”

“Well, Trace, what are they supposed to do?” his partner asked with a roll of his ice blue eyes. The pale reddish-pink pegasus shook his brown mane out of his face with a toss of his head and looked around the room. “Actually stay home and talk? Or maybe, Mother forbid, read a book?” He scoffed and looked up. “Nah. It’s the Twenty-Four-Seven Crime Horror Show for them. And here’s tonight’s guest star.”

The other pony in the room didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He had died long before the two detectives had arrived on the scene. The portly reddish-brown unicorn with the golden beard and the cutie mark of an old vase and a brush was currently hanging from the rafters of his bedroom, a length of bedsheets snatched from the bed wrapped tightly around his neck. The victim’s hind legs were discolored dark purple by lividity, his tongue gruesomely hung out of his mouth, and his clay brown eyes bulged out of his head.

“No signs of any break-ins,” Detective Red Herring continued, circling around the room. “Nothing to suggest that this is anything more than a suicide. Another denizen of our fair city who decided that he’d had enough.” He turned and glared at his partner. “But.”

“But,” Trace Evidence replied. “This is the third suicide tonight.” He looked at the hanging corpse. “I know ponies offing themselves isn’t an uncommon thing here, but three of them, all within hours of each other?” He chewed his lip. “Something doesn’t sit right about this.”

Red Herring snorted. “You’re not thinking of bringing Finder into this, are you? We don’t need his help.”

“No, no,” Trace shook his head. “I’m just saying, there’s something weird about this.” He glanced back at the corpse, studying the unfocused, glazed-over gaze with dread fascination. "And that's without mentioning that this is one of Silvertongue's employees."

Herring shifted his hooves as though in discomfort in response to the name. “Yeah, well, keep your theories to yourself, partner,” he replied. “You know what happens to cops who start mouthing off the wrong ideas to the wrong ponies.”

Trace frowned. “I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Well, it’s Ponyville, Trace,” Red Herring replied, with only the slightest hint of cynicism in his tone as he turned to leave. “Learn to live with it."

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