Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes

by PonyJosiah13

Case Four, Prologue: Playing With Fire

The night was cold. Underneath a burnished yellow half-moon, an icy wind blew from the Everfree Forest across the streets of the northeastern outskirts of Ponyville. The cold breath made the litter that dotted the sidewalks and pothole-ridden streets flap and rustle as they danced across the ground. The houses in the neighborhood were all standing far too close to one another, as if huddling together for warmth; every block was packed with homes in varying states of disrepair. Every window was dark; almost a third were boarded up. The houses were decorated in hanging lights of orange, dark blue, and purple; some homes had plastic skeletons and cardboard headstones in their front lawns or white sheets with crude faces scrawled upon them hanging from their front porches, a clear sign that Nightmare Night was upcoming.

A pickup truck, its silver paint scratched and tarnished over years of abuse, trawled down the street, passing underneath the one working street lamp, which flickered and hummed incessantly. A pile of rags in an alleyway behind the lamp shivered as a cold wind blew through the alley and grunted quietly. The two ponies in the truck’s cab ignored the homeless pony as they drove past.

“That’s the street,” the mare in the passenger seat said, pointing. The driver turned down the street, not even bothering to signal. They passed underneath a billboard hanging from the side of a brick multi-story building that creaked in the wind. The billboard displayed Monopoly, dressed in a pressed white suit and tie and fixing the ponies beneath with a winning smile. Behind him was a row of brand new houses, their sunshine yellow walls and red trim freshly painted and shining in the sun.

“Phoenix Housing Projects,” the sign declared in bold golden letters. “Affordable Housing for a Brighter Tomorrow! Coming Soon!”

The two ponies drove past the billboard and further down the street until they reached an intersection on the left. The intersecting road led to a boulevard surrounded by several smaller single-story condos. The neighborhood was lit by a single, rusting street lamp sitting on an island in the middle of the boulevard.

The driver, a bulky slate gray earth pony stallion with thick, dark blue bangs with red highlights and a cutie mark of a matchbook, parked the truck on the curb and exhaled slowly. “You sure that it’ll be all ready?” he asked his passenger, nervously adjusting the black and yellow jacket that he wore.

The passenger pulled out a cigarette lighter and flicked it open. The small yellow flame bloomed into existence, penetrating the darkness of the cabin and illuminating the mare’s face. The stallion flinched and quickly turned his head away. One of the reflective stripes on the sleeve of his jacket glowed faintly in the light.

“Let me put it this way,” the mare wheezed with a grin, her burnished smoky black eyes fixated on the small, dancing flame. Her voice carried a growly Southern accent, but the rough rasp around the edges of every syllable spoke of years of smoke and tar damage to her lungs. “It had fucking better be all ready for us, or we know who to smoke next.” She turned and gave the driver a lopsided grin, plucking a gas mask from the floor of the cab and tossing it to him. “Now get to work.”

The stallion slowly pulled the gas mask over his head and sealed it to his face with a hiss, never taking his eyes off the mare’s face. His breathing slow and heavy through the mask, he slowly opened the truck door and exited, then collected a small backpack from the seat behind the driver's. Closing the doors but leaving the engine running, he walked up the sidewalk towards the neighborhood.

The mare in the cab watched her partner leave, the flickering flame reflecting in her eyes. A smile danced across her face and she licked her lips. She squinted as she watched the stallion creep up to the back door of a condo with faded blue paint and a hideously grinning doll version of Nightmare Moon hanging from the porch ceiling, swaying back and forth in the wind. He crouched at the back door for a few seconds, then popped it open and entered the home.

The mare sat and waited. The night was silent save for the chirping of crickets, the rustling of autumnal leaves and the grumbling of the engine. She couldn’t see through the dark windows of the house, but she could already imagine what was happening. Right now, the stallion was tiphoofing through the quiet house, a few feet away from the sleeping family, his muffled breathing echoing in his ears, guiding his way forward with the thin beam of a small flashlight. He would crouch down on the floor, squinting in the darkness, and spot his target. A little twist and the job would begin.

Now came the waiting game. A soft hiss, like an angry serpent, punctuated the quiet of the room as the gas began to flow. Her partner wouldn’t be able to smell the odor of rotten eggs from the added sulfur as the poison began to flow; the sleeping ponies would be too far into dreamland to notice their oncoming death.

The mare’s hoof slowly traveled down her belly towards her hips as her eyes fixated on the lighter flame. He'd let the gas build up for a minute or two, letting the tension grow, then would come the fun part: a cigarette stuck in a matchbox and lit to form a fuse. Crude, but sometimes the simplest methods were best. She saw the stallion retreat out the back door and stand a safe distance away.

Her breathing became faster as she imagined it: the small flame sitting in the darkness, burning down on the cigarette towards the matches that waited, as though with bated breath. Meanwhile, the gas kept building and building, edging closer and closer to that big climax…

“Oh, come on, baby,” the mare panted, licking her lips hungrily and swallowing, the lighter flame dancing and shuddering as her body convulsed.

For a moment, she feared that the climax was not going to come, that the work had all been for nothing. Then, with a tremendous roar, the gas ignited. Windows in the back of the house burst open, glass flying everywhere as if fleeing the wall of flames that leaped out the windows. The light of the flames illuminated the neighborhood, smoke beginning to pour up into the night sky. The fire began its merry chorus of snaps, crackles, and pops, the walls and ceiling rapidly surrendering to the all-consuming flames.

Then, a beautiful counterpoint was joined to the music: screams. Three—no, four voices, including two young fillies, their voices rising in panic and terror, then in pain as the flames found them. The mare with the lighter gasped in delight as she imagined the scent of boiling flesh and searing bones, the writhing and twisting in agony, her mind running free in ecstasy. The fire spread throughout the entire house, and to the mare’s delight, a sudden wind began to blow, carrying the sparks to the next house and igniting the wall.

She barely noticed the stallion running back to the truck and climbing into the cab, yanking his gas mask off. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, grabbing the wheel.

“Wait!” the mare snapped, gritting her teeth, her panting coming fast and ragged. “I ain’t finished.”

There was a loud wail of agony from inside and a figure pushed through the back door. The teenaged mare, her entire body clothed in fire, writhed and flailed, rolling on the ground in a desperate bid to extinguish the flames. She let out one last piercing scream for help that rocked the air, then was still, save for some final twitches as life left her.

The mare in the truck gasped and rolled her eyes back into her head, shivering in ecstasy. A smile spread across her face and she clicked the lighter shut.

“Alrighty then,” she grinned and settled back into her seat. “Let’s get outta here.”

The driver shifted the truck into gear and they drove off into the night. Behind them, a section of the burning house’s roof collapsed, bringing an abrupt end to the screaming, while the melody of the flames continued to sing out into the night.

Author's Note:

Things are really heating up in Ponyville tonight!

I'll see myself out...

In all seriousness, this little scene is probably bordering the line between Teen and Mature, but it is something that I felt was a necessary part of this mare's character. If I need to, I will try to change it to make it a little less subtle.

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Comments

[HolyCross9]

Holy pyromaniacs! That sure was a brutal scene.

[The Bricklayer]

Oh, so we've got an arsonist Firefly wannabe eh? Interesting...

[Olakaan Peliik]

Wow, that was a bit excessive don't ya think?. Talk about weird fetishes.

[themouthofmush]

it's good to see that made her even crazier somehow from the original stories, that is if the mare is who I think she is.

[PonyJosiah13]

8631718
If you're thinking of a certain one-off villain with a flamethrower, you'd be right.

[Micro-song]

Amazing! I was wondering when the sadists were going to show up

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

Merciful emperor.....

[Chayn]

Nice. That pyro scene would get you another upvote from me, but... only once per tale. Cruel, cruel fimfiction.

[dystopia8]

I see... I don't know what it is (and by "I don't know" I mean the death by fire fetish), but something gives me the distinct impression that case four is going to be an interesting one, to say the least.