Investigations
Chapter 3: Investigations
“She's still not answerin'.”
Sunset Shimmer tapped her boot against the grass. That was the third time Applejack had texted Rarity in the last fifteen minutes.
It had been a very trying few hours since lunch at Canterlot High, ever since Rarity had declared that her father had been arrested. Rarity's mother had offered no details in her phone call, but simply told Rarity to go to Principal Celestia's office, where she'd collect both her and Sweetie Belle.
They'd agreed to catch up as soon as school was over, but that didn't make the intervening wait any easier. By the time the final bell rang, they'd all practically collided with each other in the hall trying to escape.
Rarity's house was their first stop. But after a few rounds of knocking, and Rainbow screaming at Rarity's bedroom window, it was clear that no one was home. So here the six of them sat, simply waiting.
“They could be at the station,” suggested Twilight. “Trying to get visitation rights.” She tapped her chin. “Though I'm not sure they'd get it at this stage, presuming the arrest was a very recent thing, that is.”
“Maybe we should go there instead,” offered Rainbow, getting up to walk around the lawn. It was her fourth such circuit.
“I'd rather stay here and wait,” muttered Fluttershy.
“But what if she's already on her way here?” said Pinkie. “Then we'd miss her again. It would be like playing tag. A really, really not fun game of tag.”
Sunset had to admit, Pinkie raised a good point, but at the same time, going to the local police station wasn't a bad idea either. It wasn't a particularly hot day, but even she was starting to feel a bit worn down sitting in the sun. It was too bad Rarity didn't have a porch.
Turning her head, she looked over Rarity's house. It was a pleasant, two-story white structure with a slanted brown roof and a well-kept lawn. It was a classic example of middle-class simplicity, and sat at odds with Rarity's elegant tastes. But as Rarity had frequently stated, she and her parents never met eye to eye as far as aesthetics.
“Let's give it ten more minutes,” said Sunset. “Then we'll try the station.”
It only took five before she saw a large red minivan driving toward the house. Pinkie was the first to point it out. “They're here! They're here!” she said, bouncing in place.
Rarity got out from the backseat, her eyes reddened. Fluttershy was the first to reach her, wrapping her in a gentle hug.
“You were all waiting here?” asked Rarity in surprise.
Sunset shrugged. “We told you we'd catch up.”
“Thank you for showing up, girls,” said Cookie Crumbles as she ushered Sweetie Belle out of the car. The latter was all nerves, practically vibrating with anxiety. And in her own way, Cookie was just as shaken. Her usually perfect updo was starting to come loose in multiple places.
The group were led inside, settling into the den. Cookie offered them cans of soda as she busied herself in the kitchen making snacks, Pinkie Pie offering to help. They had to bring in a few extra chairs, but eventually, they were all seated with plates of cookies and other treats in front of them. Sweetie Belle was absent by that point, since not long after they went inside, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had shown up and offered to take Sweetie to the local arcade.
As Sunset reclined into an overstuffed armchair, she was struck again by the difference in taste between Rarity and her parents. In Rarity's room the walls were decorated with imitation gemstones, there were mirrors in multiple places, and the decor generally gave off an impression of glamor and sophistication.
This room, by contrast, was rather plain. Well furnished, in a modest sense, but plain as far as decoration, with simpler colors. A brick fireplace stood against one wall, a TV mounted high above the photo-laden mantle. There was a game console at the bottom of the fireplace, mostly used by Sweetie Belle and her friends whenever they came over.
Several upholstered armchairs were positioned around the room, all facing one another, with side tables next to them bearing small lamps with flower-decorated shades. Centered between the chairs, and resting atop a tasseled rug, was a dark-colored wood coffee table, bearing both a cookbook with several markers in it, and a sports magazine.
“So,” said Rainbow with a hint of impatience. Her arms were wrapped firmly around the back of a dining chair. “What happened?”
Rarity gulped down hard, wringing her hands in her lap. “Father was arrested for... stealing drugs.”
Sunset choked on her soda, coughing and sputtering into her jacket sleeve. “What?”
“Oh, girls, this is so horrible!” cried Rarity. “The officer we spoke to said they found drugs stuffed into baseballs and hockey pucks and whatever else.”
“Why were they even looking there?” asked Twilight after a pause.
“They said they got a tip, an anonymous phone call,” answered Rarity. “Some pharmacy was robbed. All sorts of medications were taken, steroids and other such things. They've been looking for the culprit all this time with no solid leads.”
Sunset's brow furrowed. “So they found performance enhancers in his merchandise?” She hadn't interacted with Hondo Flanks very much, but her general impression of him was that he had as much criminal tendency as, well, Mr. Cake did. In other words, zero. No, less than zero. This sort of thing was unthinkable of him.
Rarity nodded grimly. “They said they found dozens, all of them matching what was stolen.”
Beside Sunset, Applejack whistled. “Your pa's in a heap of trouble, Rare.”
“I think that's an understatement, darling,” said Rarity with a sigh. Sunset watched Rarity take the barest nibble of a cookie, before turning her attention to the pictures on the fireplace mantle. Most of them were family photos, but a few of them were of her father in a football uniform, pictures from his days in the Canterlot City Cavaliers.
Sunset remembered Rarity telling her that aside from these photos, and the occasional magazine, all of her father's sports-related items were in the den across the hall. It was there that he'd watch most of his games or entertain his friends and old teammates.
She'd peeked in there once. It was the sort of room others would have called a “man cave”, filled with, among other things, jerseys, trophies, a mini-fridge, another, larger TV, and the house's main cable box. Though Rarity never called the room anything other than the den, since she “absolutely refused to associate her father with such a brutish name as that.”
Rarity was fiddling with the photographs now, arranging them in a neat line, which only emphasized to Sunset that her friend was not handling this well. Not too long after meeting Rarity, Sunset discovered that the fashionista tended to straighten things when she was stressed out.
Really, it didn't take much effort for Sunset to imagine how hard this was on her, having her life turned upside down in the blink of an eye. Like Rarity, she'd gone through something similar around a month ago, when an anonymous call to Child Protective Services had not only put her under government scrutiny, threatening to expose her extra-dimensional nature, but had also put Mrs. Circinus on her trail, undoubtedly one of the coldest and nastiest social workers ever employed.
Straightening the last photograph, Rarity paused to examine her work, and then blew out a sharp burst of air between her lips. “Oh, this is getting me nowhere!” she cried, dainty hands balling into fists. “I simply must do something!”
“But what can you do?” Sunset asked, pressing her fingers to her chin. As awful and frustrating as the situation was, there weren't a lot of options open to them. “You and your mom already spoke to the police, didn't you?”
“We did, but they didn't listen at all,” Rarity muttered, pacing sharply along the carpet.
“Man,” said Rainbow, “this is starting to sound like one of those TV crime dramas.”
“Yeah,” agreed Pinkie in between bites of her own cookies. “And right about now the detective would step in to solve the case and clear the suspect's name.”
Rarity stopped dead in her tracks, and for a moment, Sunset wondered if she was alright. Sunset was about to reach out a hand, when Rarity whirled around, eyes sparkling like the diamonds she adored. “Pinkie Pie, you're a genius!”
“I am? Wow. And here I thought I was just really good at throwing parties.”
Without another word, Rarity bolted up the stairs to her room. Sunset looked at her friends, who greeted her with a collective shrug of their shoulders, before following up the staircase.
Sunset was the first in the door. “Uh, Rarity, are you okay?”
The fashionista was hurriedly rifling through her closet. “I know I had it somewhere... ah ha!” She stepped out, striking a pose. “Well, what do you think?”
Rarity had traded her more casual clothes for a business skirt and jacket, both a blue-green color, along with a matching hat with a very long feather stuck into the brim, and secured by a diamond-shaped broach. How she'd managed to change so fast, Sunset wasn't entirely certain.
“It... looks great,” she admitted, both out of honesty, and not being sure what else to say. “But what does this have to do with your dad's problem?”
Rarity adjusted the hat, turning to admire herself in the mirror. “Simple, darling. I'm going to investigate the crime myself.”
Sunset gaped at her. That was anything but simple. In fact, she'd argue that it was monumental. And yet her friend had said it so casually, it was almost absurd. “And... how exactly does your outfit tie into that?” she asked, deciding the best way to understand her friend's logic to start small.
“It's inspired by Shadow Spade, of course,” said Rarity, as if the statement explained everything.
“Oh, right, Shadow Spade,” said Twilight with an appreciative nod of her head. She gave Rarity's outfit a discerning glance. “That really does look like something she'd wear.”
Sunset glanced between them. “I'm sorry, but... who?”
“Fictional detective,” explained Twilight. “Pre-modern setting, and often gives a very film noir feel. Or at least that's what Mom says. I've seen the books, but I never got around to reading them.”
“Um, Rarity?” asked Fluttershy, twisting her hands nervously. “Your outfit is lovely, but, um, are you sure this is a good idea? What if the police get mad?”
“Yeah, I was going to say,” agreed Sunset. “They're probably not going to take you getting involved very well.” Not to mention what might happen if she found the real criminal.
“I can't say I care all that much at the moment, darling,” replied Rarity. “They seem so convinced father is guilty that I find it unlikely that they'll do any actual investigating. And if they're not going to do anything, then I will.”
“I think Fluttershy has a point,” said Applejack, holding her hand up when Rarity began to protest. “I know how you feel, and if it were me, I'd be out there doing everything I could, but have you really thought this all the way through?”
“She's right, Rarity,” said Twilight, worry etched onto her face. “They could arrest you for interfering with their investigation.”
For a moment, Rarity froze, and Sunset could see her confidence edging away with fear. But Rarity just squared her shoulders, and adjusted her hat. “I suppose I'll simply have to be careful, won't I?”
Applejack snorted. “Well, if that's what you're plannin' to do, then count me in. I'm not letting you do this by yourself.”
“I think that's safe to say for all of us,” said Sunset. She couldn't exactly say this was the best idea, but if Rarity was so set on doing it, then Sunset wasn't going to let her go alone. She turned to her friends. “Right?”
The rest of them nodded. “Hey,” interjected Rainbow, “why don't I get my dad to talk to the cops? He's one of your dad's friends, maybe he can be a...” she paused, turning to Twilight. “What did you call it? A character witness?”
“Yes,” answered Twilight. The idea made Sunset smile, remembering the time not too long ago when her friends had confronted Sunny, thinking she was going to throw Sunset in prison, and begged her to reconsider. They, well, mostly Rainbow, had actually been willing to get physical. A foolhardy idea, but touching all the same.
“I could go too,” said Applejack. “Big Mac and I go to his store sometimes.”
“I'm really not sure what good that will do,” said Rarity. “You didn't see the officers we talked to. They seemed quite convinced father is guilty.”
Applejack shrugged. “It can't hurt to try, Rare. And if it helps get your pa out of spendin' a night in a cell, I'll go for it.”
“She's got a point,” added Sunset. “Actually, Twilight, why don't you go with them? You can see if your brother can tell us anything else about what happened.”
“I'm not sure if he would,” the magenta girl admitted. “Shining is still only in the field training program. But I guess I can ask.”
“That leaves the rest of us to go with Rarity,” said Sunset. She turned to her friend. “You ready to go?”
Rarity glanced at her mirror, adjusting her hat one final time, and grinned. “Absolutely.”
In the halls of Manehattan General Hospital, Princess Twilight Sparkle stood in stunned silence. The morning had started out so normal, and now, looking through the open door to Isolation Ward C, it had descended into a waking nightmare.
Slowly, she and her friends followed Doctor Red Cross inside. As they entered, Twilight allowed her eyes to glide across every pony in the ward. Each lay still, sleeping or softly moaning, all oblivious to the world around them, thin and flushed and sickly. There had to be over a dozen of them, not counting Valencia.
“The first patient was brought in a few weeks ago,” said Red Cross. He pointed to an aquamarine unicorn mare wearing an oxygen mask a few rows down. “They found her half buried in a junk yard. The day after that, another pony was brought in, then another. Now the police bring them straight here every time they find one.”
“What...” Twilight began, stumbling over her words, “what could possibly—”
“Whoa!” cried Rainbow, gliding over to a scruffy teal pegasus. “Check out his wings!”
Twilight turned her attention to the pony in question. His wings were almost entirely devoid of feathers. The few that remained looked like they were just barely attached. “It looks like he's molting,” she said in puzzlement. “But so much at once?”
Fluttershy edged her way over to where Rainbow was, peering closely at the bedridden pony. “But where are the pin feathers?” she asked. Her eyes were focused on the bare sections of wing, the patches of smooth skin. “If he's molting, they should be coming through, but there's nothing.”
“For some reason,” said Doctor Red Cross, “feather regeneration has been slowed. In fact, he's not even really molting. We examined his feathers and they were nowhere near ready to molt. They've just been falling out.” He sighed. “It's happened in a few of the pegasi patients.”
“The poor stallion,” said Fluttershy, eyes welling with tears. She reached out to brush a strand of mane away from his face.
Twilight turned back to Red Cross. “What's causing this?”
“I have no idea!” cried Red Cross, raising his voice enough to make Twilight jolt. He threw up his hooves in frustration, all trace of clinical detachment shattering into a thousand pieces. “I haven't got a clue what this is! A germ, a chemical, a spell, I can't figure it out!”
The unicorn ran a vigorous hoof through his unkempt mane, as if somehow trying to force his brain to form a solution, and Twilight saw now that there were bags forming under his eyes. “The range of symptoms varies so much from patient to patient, it just doesn't make any sense!”
He locked eyes with Twilight, his gaze somehow both wild and exhausted at the same time. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep this contained, to keep the general public from panicking?” he asked hollowly. “I informed the hospital administration, but they haven't told any of the other doctors here. They're too frightened of the news getting out.”
The doctor chuckled, an empty, bitter chuckle. “Never mind that the risks are the same with all the staff I've had to dedicate for this, nurses and orderlies pulled completely from their regular shifts. The more patients that arrived, the more help we needed. I've pulled enough staff now that the other doctors are starting to ask questions, and I... I don't know what to tell them.”
Red Cross dropped into a nearby chair, collapsing into it like a sack of potatoes. “I've been here day and night, trying to work this out, trying to heal these ponies of this accursed plague, but I can't get past square one.” His head dropped into his hooves. “All I can do is treat their symptoms and pray no more come in.”
“You poor thing,” said Fluttershy, immediately going up to him and wrapping her forelegs around him in a gentle hug. He didn't resist her touch, only sobbing into his hooves.
Twilight felt her anger from the hallway disappear. “Have you tried requesting help?” she asked softly.
He looked up, corners of his eyes glistening with tears, and nodded. “After the first three patients came in, I contacted the Equestria Center for Disease Prevention. They were as stumped as I was, but put together a report for the Ministry of Health with a request to notify Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, and to gain access to the Canterlot Archive for any leads.
“That was three weeks ago now, and I still haven't gotten a reply. So, Your Highness, if you're going to berate me for doing my job, then—”
“I'm not,” said Twilight as soothingly as she could. “I can see you're working as hard as you can to help these ponies. I don't know why that request was rejected, but I can contact Princess Celestia and Princess Luna personally. So why don't you tell me what exactly you've found?”
Red Cross blinked twice. He gazed back at her with a frown, as though not quite believing what she'd just said; but it didn't take long for him to nod rapidly, his jaw set with determination. “I... yes, Your Majesty.”
Getting back to his hooves, he smoothed back his mane. “As far as symptoms,” he said, clearing his throat, “All patients exhibited an extremely high, sometimes nearly lethal fever, accompanied by profuse sweating and dehydration, and physical pain throughout the body so intense that if they're not already delirious, they often become so on the medication we have to give them.”
“That sounds fairly straightforward so far,” said Twilight, following along. “But you also said the symptoms have varied. In what way? What else have you seen?”
“Beyond that,” he pointed back to the pegasus Rainbow and Fluttershy had approached. “He and a few of the other pegasi patients have had mass feather loss, with reduced pin feather growth.”
He pointed back to the unicorn he'd cited as the first arrival. “And she came in with one of the worst cases of asthma I've ever seen, although,” he added the last part with frustration. “Since she has no medical history, I can't be entirely certain she wasn't like that before.”
The unicorn looked to Mosely. “If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Orange, I'd like you to request your wife's physician to send us her records.”
“H-huh?” Mosely looked up from his wife. Nurses fluttered around Valencia's bed like moths transfixed to a flame, while he stood amidst it all. He seemed completely rooted to his position, a look of steely determination in his eyes that Twilight was certain would put a few royal guards to shame. “Oh, yes, of course.”
“What's wrong with her?” asked Applejack. Rather than join her uncle at his post, Applejack had kept her distance, never once approaching the bed. “I...” the apple farmer swallowed hard, casting an apprehensive glance between her forehoof and her aunt. “I broke her leg when I touched her. I wasn't even tryin' and I broke it.”
“Osteoporosis,” answered Red Cross. “Her bones have become thinner and more fragile. It's another fairly common symptom, though its actual severity has varied largely. For some, it's been quite severe, while others only show mild signs. We've also seen reduced motor response, problems with perception of space, distance, and direction, vertigo, ataxia, muscle atrophy, and in one patient, a bleeding ulcer.”
Twilight rubbed her chin in thought. He was right. It didn't make any sense at all. No disease she'd ever heard of could cause this many symptoms, or any chemical agent, for that matter. “Have you managed to find anything they have in common?”
“As far as I can tell, they seem like they're homeless ponies,” said Red Cross. “Or most of them are. We've been cross-checking medical records with the police, and the city directory for housing, and usually come up empty. Mrs. Orange definitely goes against that pattern, which makes me very much afraid that this thing might be spreading.”
A shudder passed through Twilight, images passing before her eyes of dozens upon dozens more ponies as sick as these. They couldn't let that happen. “Can you give me a copy of all the data you have on your patients so far? I'll need it when I talk to the princesses.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Red Cross strode to the doors, newfound energy in his step. “If you could all follow me, I'll show you to my office. Everything is in there.”
Twilight and her friends all went back out into the hallway, ready to follow Red Cross, except for Applejack, who remained where she was.
“Yo, AJ, aren't you coming?” asked Rainbow.
The farmer shook her head. “You gals go on. I'm gonna stay here and help look after Aunt Orange.”
“What about the train back to Ponyville?” asked Twilight.
“I'll take another one in a day or two,” replied Applejack. “I already made up my mind on that before we got here.”
“Are you sure?” asked Mosely. “You know you don't need to stay. I can do this myself. And what about Granny Smith and Big Macintosh? Won't they need your help on the farm?”
“They'll be fine a little longer,” said Applejack. She looked down at her aunt. Thanks to the nurses, Valencia had sunk into a quiet, blissful sleep. A hefty ice pack had been placed against her forehead, and her sweating had stopped, so only a few glistening traces remained. Applejack put a hoof to her aunt's mane. Her touch was tentative and gentle, as if Valencia was made of porcelain. “She needs me more right now.”
Twilight smiled. “Alright. Take care, Applejack.”
The farmer tipped her hat. “I will.”
As Twilight and the remainder of her friends continued their trip to Red Cross's office, the alicorn let the gears turn in her mind. She'd send a letter to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna the minute she got in the door. But what exactly was this? What had happened to these ponies to make them so sick?
Something very wrong was happening in Equestria, and she was going to find out what.
“There was something rotten at work in this town, and it was up to me to find it.”
“Rarity, you're talking out loud again.”
“... Am I? My apologies, darling.”
Sunset rolled her eyes, following her friend as she led the way to her father's store. That was the third time Rarity had broken into some kind of monologue since they'd left her house. Sunset got the feeling that her friend was trying to channel even more of Shadow Spade.
How monologues about nonexistent rain, something rotten, and the shadows in the back alleys would help the actual investigation, Sunset didn't know. Perhaps it was all in the psychology. Actually, was it her imagination, or had it started to get really overcast and gray?
“Aww, you interrupted the music,” said a very disappointed Pinkie, who, up to that point, had been almost skipping along the sidewalk. “I wanted to keep listening.”
Fluttershy turned to look at her. “What music?”
“The jazz theme that starts up whenever Rarity starts talking like Shadow Spade,” replied Pinkie, confirming her suspicions.
“I'm... sorry?” Sunset shook her head, knowing better than question Pinkie Pie. “I'll try to stay quiet next time, how about that?”
“Okey dokey lokey!”
Sunset turned her head back to the path ahead, and almost collided with Rarity. “Hey, why'd you stop?”
“Because we're here,” said Rarity, pointing a delicate finger to a place just ahead of them. She stood totally still, spine as rigid as a light pole.
Sunset looked to where her friend was pointing. They stood in front of a small shopping center. At the very end was a large unit with a sign that read Hondo's Sporting Goods in large letters. On any other day the plain exterior wouldn't have garnered much attention.
Today, however, was different. Today, a small crowd of onlookers had gathered before the store, only a few feet from where they were standing. Their reason for gathering was as plain as the store's sign. Multiple police cars sat parked out front, and technicians were going in and out the open doorway, maneuvering around the yellow crime scene tape stretched across it.
“Come on, people, move along,” barked the patrolman standing guard by the door. “This is a crime scene! No loitering!”
Fluttershy scrambled backwards, looking like a frightened deer as she muttered something along the lines of “I'm sorry!”
Sunset grabbed her arm. “Hey, it's okay. He wasn't talking to us.”
“But he will be if we get any closer,” said Fluttershy, struggling to break free. “And he sounds so angry.”
Honestly, Sunset couldn't blame her friend's hesitation. Police officers always set Sunset on edge, moreso than the average person. Years of living by less than legal or ethical means had amplified that normal discomfort several times over, and formed it into a knee jerk reaction that she found hard to shake even now.
Still, Sunset knew what they needed to do. “Come on, Fluttershy,” she said softly, pulling the girl forward. “Rarity needs us. Right, Rarity?”
For a moment, Rarity said nothing, simply watching as officers swarmed around her father's place of business. “Hm?” She sounded a thousand miles away.
Sunset placed a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
Rarity shook her head as if to clear it, letting her curls bounce back and forth. “I'm fine, darling. I just... got caught in the moment, that's all.” She turned around to face the rest of them. “Fluttershy, dear,” she said, taking hold of the other girl's hands. “I know you're intimidated, but I absolutely can't do this without you. Please stay.”
Fluttershy met Rarity's gaze, and immediately relented. “Alright.”
“I don't think they're going to let us in,” said Sunset. “So, what do you want to do?”
Rarity looked back at the store, squaring her shoulders. “We'll try next door first.”
The business next to Hondo's was Typeface Books, a comparatively smaller space, wedged in on the other side by a shoe repair shop. A bell jangled overhead as they walked in. Sunset took a deep breath, picking up the scent of dry paper and ink.
Books as high as their shoulders were spread out over the room, while a few plush armchairs were tucked into a corner. The sections of the bookstore were clearly marked by signs hanging from the ceiling, while pictures of classical authors and printing presses sat high on the walls.
Just as they'd entered, Rarity yanked Sunset behind one of the shelves. “What gives?” whispered Sunset as Rarity pulled Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie over.
Rarity simply pointed. “Look.”
A woman was talking to a uniformed officer, the latter scribbling away in his notebook. “I see. Is there anything else you can tell us about him?”
“I think I've covered just about everything, officer,” said the woman in a high, but clear voice. She was tall and slender, with blue eyes set behind a pair of wire rim glasses, black hair swept into a bun. All in all, she gave off the air of a rather strict librarian.
“Why are we hiding?” asked Pinkie, shoving herself between Rarity and Sunset.
“Because,” Sunset told her, “there's a cop asking questions over there. Try to act natural. We'll wait it out.”
“Got it!” Pinkie bounced over to a shelf behind them. “Hey, Fluttershy, come check out this great book I just found! Dashie will love this!”
Sunset winced. She'd forgotten that Pinkie Pie's definition of normal didn't often equal “low volume”. The woman turned her head in their direction, shooting them an irritated glare. Sunset whirled around, pretending to be engrossed in one of the paintings. She definitely glares like a strict librarian.
The police officer didn't seem to have noticed them, because he hadn't even looked up from his notebook. Sunset breathed a sigh of relief, only to jolt when she felt a buzzing from her pocket.
Taking out her phone, she saw a text from Twilight.
At the station. Rainbow, Applejack, and Rainbow's dad are arguing with one of the officers. I managed to talk to Shiny. It doesn't look very good. He said that whoever robbed the pharmacy was caught on camera. They were wearing a mask and gloves, so no fingerprints. But he was about Hondo's size and weight, and according to his footprints, he was wearing the same kind of shoes that Hondo does.
Sunset frowned. No, that definitely didn't look good. Poking Rarity in the shoulder, she showed her the text. Rarity bit her lip, but just fixed her eyes back on the conversation before them.
“And you didn't witness anything that would have indicated something was going on?” the officer continued.
“I'm afraid not.”
“Well, thank you for your time, ma'am.” The officer flipped his notebook shut. “Case is pretty open and shut if you ask me, but if you remember anything you think is relevant, let us know.”
The woman merely nodded. “I will.”
The minute the officer left, the woman turned to glare at them. “You can come out now. And don't make such a racket. On any other day, I'd have customers trying to read.”
“I'm terribly sorry about that, Ms. Typeface,” said Rarity, emerging from behind the shelves.
Ms. Typeface scowled, moving her attention to Sunset and the others. “Why do I get the feeling you're not here to buy something?” Turning back to Rarity, she eyed the girl's outfit critically. “Don't tell me; you're trying your hand at playing Prancy Drew?”
“It's, um, Shadow Spade, actually,” said Fluttershy, who immediately flinched when Ms. Typeface shot her a glare, sending the silent message that she knew perfectly well who Rarity was trying to be, thank you.
“She can be Shadow Spade when she's an actual adult,” said Typeface, unimpressed. It was clear she viewed Rarity more like a child who'd been caught playing with her mother's makeup than someone to be taken seriously.
“Who's Prancy Drew?” Sunset whispered to Rarity, a question which earned her a scornful look of her own from Ms. Typeface. So now we've all managed to offend her in the first few minutes. This is off to a wonderful start, isn't it?
“In any case,” said Rarity, getting the conversation back on track. “I was wondering if you could tell me—”
“You want me to tell you what I know about the crime,” interrupted Ms. Typeface. “Well, I'll say to you what I just said to the police: what I know is basically nothing. I didn't see or hear anything. Everything your father did, he did under my nose.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You have to face facts, young lady. He's guilty. Nothing you do is going to change that.”
“Hey, that's just mean!” cried Pinkie. “Rarity's dad didn't do it!”
“Don't you think it's just a little out of character for him?” asked Sunset, face falling. What was with her attitude?
“People surprise us, sometimes in the worst ways.”
Sunset frowned. “You don't seem very sympathetic.”
“You wouldn't be either, if you were in my position. Do you know how much noise Hondo's store makes? It comes through the wall, the dribbling of balls and nets and all those other things. It disturbs my customers!”
She pointed an angry finger at some of the empty armchairs. “They'd be sitting there, trying to enjoy the power of the written word, and then all that racket would start up and they'd leave. Some of them didn't even buy the book!”
The woman was building into a tirade now, some deep bottle of frustration suddenly uncorked. “And all those... those jocks hanging around! They wouldn't know a good book if it literally hit them in the face. Just seeing them probably scared off even more of my customers. It was bad enough when it was a karate studio, but they were so much quieter.
“I knew I should have bought the unit when it was vacant,” she groaned, an almost theatrical sound that could have just as easily come from Rarity. “I could have expanded my store. I could have put in one of those in-store coffee houses. I could have—”
“I think we get the picture,” said Sunset flatly, eager to get away from this point of conversation as quickly as possible.
Ms. Typeface simply ignored her. “And of course, he's been barricading my back door.”
Beside Sunset, Rarity tilted her head, fashionable hat almost slipping off. “I beg your pardon?”
“For the last week or so, your father has been pushing the dumpster in the alley in front of my back door,” said Typeface, walking over to a nearby shelf and dusting the books with a handkerchief. “It's been impossible for me to get the blasted door open, and I've had to go around to the back and move it myself. Your father knows perfectly well that the truck can't get in to the other end of the alley. Why he kept moving it so far, I have no idea.”
She wiped away a minute speck of dust from a paperback's spine, her fingers working so gently, you might have thought she was handling porcelain. “He must think it's hilarious to box me in when I have garbage to take out.”
“I'm sure he wouldn't have done something so mean,” said Fluttershy.
Sunset had been wanting to say something to a similar effect, only to notice that, rather than look offended at the store owner's remarks, Rarity instead seemed thoughtful, brows knit together. “Rarity, what's—”
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Typeface,” said Rarity, a smile plastered on her face. “I think we'll be going now.”
Rarity pressed her hand into Sunset's side, herding her friends out of the store. As they left, Pinkie Pie bounced over to the counter, dropping a book titled 101 Amazing Pranks. “I was going to buy this, but I changed my mind.” said Pinkie, shooting the woman a raspberry before bouncing out behind them.
“What was that about?” asked Sunset once they were outside.
“Possibly nothing, but possibly not,” answered Rarity cryptically. “Follow me.”
“Ooh!” said Pinkie, hopping behind them. “Rarity found a lead!”
Together, they went around the shopping center to an alley that ran parallel to the back of the buildings. To Sunset's relief, there were no police around. Evidently, this wasn't designated as part of the crime scene. Though what they were doing back here, and what a moved garbage dumpster had to do with anything, Sunset didn't know.
The dumpster in question sat right in front of them, a dark green steel box as tall as the average person. Craning her head around it, she could see that the alley did indeed get significantly narrow at the other end, forming a bottleneck of concrete and brick with the apartment buildings on the other side.
Rarity bent down to examine the wheels of the dumpster, frowning in disgust. “Fluttershy, dear, would you have a handkerchief I could borrow?”
She did, and Rarity ran it along the wheel. Pulling back the strip of cotton, Sunset saw there was now a greenish brown stain. “Is that...?”
“Grease,” replied Rarity as she stood back up. “Father mentioned last week that he'd greased the wheels to this dumpster to make it easier to move. He wanted to place it right next to his back door to get rid of some bulky inventory.”
“But what does that have to do with him being arrested?” asked Fluttershy, voicing the very same question Sunset had been about to ask herself.
Rather than answer, Rarity just smiled. “Girls, I think it's time we search for clues.”
“Investigation time!” cried Pinkie. “Come on, Fluttershy, you can be my partner.” She dragged the girl to the other end of the alley. “Let's not stop till we've examined all the suspicious nooks and crannies.” She paused. “I should say that line more often.”
Sunset wandered down the alley, taking it all in. She could see the door to Hondo's store, and much further down, the one that undoubtedly belonged to Ms. Typeface. It all seemed like an ordinary alley, complete with garbage, dirt, and bits of graffiti.
And yet, that dumpster had been moved so far down that it had blocked the door to Typeface Books. Why anyone would do that, she had no idea. True, there was a certain plausibility to doing it out of spite. Sunset might certainly have been tempted if she'd had to work next door, especially during her less charitable years. But for Hondo, that sort of thing was completely out of character.
She checked under a pile of loose boxes for anything out of the ordinary. No hidden or discarded objects appeared. Feeling suddenly frustrated, she kicked a broken chair; and abruptly seethed at the pain. Okay, bad idea. Ow, ow, ow!
Now hopping on one foot, Sunset glanced at the ground, and then paused. There was something sticking out from under the flattened cardboard box she was standing on. Were those... yes, they were tire tracks. “Hey, Rarity, I might have found something.”
Rarity was by her side in an instant, brandishing a magnifying glass that Sunset didn't even know she'd packed. “Tire tracks,” she said, letting out a little hum. She looked back up at Sunset. “Darling, what do you call the designs on tires?”
“That's the tread.” Where had that question come from?
“I see. And there are all different sorts of designs, I take it? I've seen some with an inverted chevron in the middle. A rather nice pattern, if I do say so myself. Very balanced.”
“That's a symmetrical tread,” explained Sunset. “There are something like four different types of tire treads. It depends on what the tires are made for.”
“And what would you say this is?”
Sunset peered over her shoulder, studying the imprint in the dirt. A solid vertical line flanked on each side by a pattern of curved, downward facing points. “That's a directional tread.”
There was a gleam in her friend's blue eyes. “How very interesting.” Before Sunset could question her friend's cryptic statement, Rarity called over to the rest of their group. “Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, have you found anything?”
“No, not so far,” said Fluttershy. “I’m sorry, Rarity.”
Pinkie Pie looked up from scrutinizing the bricks in the wall. “I'm looking at every nook and cranny, but I haven't found anything.”
“We definitely found something,” said Sunset, waving them off. “Come take a look.”
The two began to walk over, going past the door to Hondo's shop, when Fluttershy suddenly lost her footing, sliding backwards and dropping to the dirt.
“Are you okay, Fluttershy?” said a concerned Pinkie, helping her up.
“I'm fine,” said the shy girl. “I just slipped.”
“On what, darling?” Sunset and Rarity approached the door, the latter bending down to the concrete square. A small streak of greenish-brown liquid was smeared on it. “More grease.” Her eyes moved to the left of the puddle. “A footprint!” she declared pointing to a patch of dirt adjacent to the concrete. “Fluttershy, you found a clue!”
Fluttershy blinked. “I did?”
“You most certainly did,” said Rarity. She peered at it through the magnifying glass. “Definitely made by a work boot.”
Sunset bent forward to look at the lock on Hondo's back door. There was a collection of fine scratches around the keyhole. Her eyes narrowed; the pattern was very familiar, like a combination of lines and miniscule divots both leading to and out of the hole.
“Rarity, this door's definitely been picked.”
The fact gave her a little bit of relief. Of course, the idea of someone else other than Hondo being responsible had been a given. Now, at least, they had an indicator that somebody had tried their hand at this lock.
“I can't say I'm surprised,” said Rarity, not looking up from the ground. “Thank you, darling.”
Moving her attention to the footprint, Sunset noticed odd debris littering the dirt. “Those look like bits of string,” she said.
“They most certainly do, and I can see some bits of rubber here as well.” The fashionista smiled, a strong, confident smile. “I think things are becoming quite clear.”
“Care to explain—” Sunset began, only to be interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Coming down the street perpendicular to the alley were Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight.
“Hey, girls,” greeted Sunset. “How did it go at the station?”
Rainbow Dash crossed her arms irritably. “No dice. They barely let us talk before basically shoving us out the door.”
“I didn't think it was possible, but the officers we talked to were stubborner than Granny Smith,” said Applejack with a shake of her head.
“I think what you're doing is wonderful,” said Bow Hothoof, now coming up behind them. He wasn't hard to spot in a crowd for a couple of reasons. The most glaring of these was his hair, a short, multicolored crop crowning his head. The other was his size. Like Rarity's father, he was a large man, tall and broad-shouldered, the form one expected of an ex-football player.
“I'm so proud of you, Rainbow Dash.” He turned to his daughter. “Helping your friend clear her father's name. This is why you're the best!”
“Dad,” groaned Rainbow. “Now's not the time.”
“I know I'd be doing the same thing if I could,” continued Bow, undeterred by his daughter's embarrassment. “Magnum's too good a guy to do something like this. Back in our college days, he even busted a couple members of our squad for using steroids. Actually cost us a couple games.”
That was when, to Sunset's surprise, Shining Armor came up to them. As with most times she'd run into him, he was in uniform, polished gold shield gleaming brightly against the dark blue of his jacket.
He was actually the one police officer Sunset found herself able to be completely relaxed around. She’d had enough, albeit small, interactions with him, and enough stories from Twilight, that she’d come to see him as a person first and an officer second.
It certainly hadn’t started that way, however. Sunset could still remember the looks he’d given her the first time they’d met. He’d been in uniform that time, too, dropping Twilight off at one of their sleepovers. Like any overprotective big brother, he’d been both happy, and wary, to discover Twilight had suddenly made a large group of friends.
The wariness had shown on his face, in the way his eyes lingered on each of them, studying them, trying to see if they were really safe for his sister to be around. When he’d noticed her, his pupils had narrowed almost to pinpricks.
Had she really been giving off an air of trouble, or had he picked up on the way she’d stared at his badge? After that, it had taken about a week and a half of chance encounters before he’d stopped giving her suspicious looks.
Now, however, there was something about him that was setting off alarm bells in her head. It took a moment before she realized it was the way in which he was approaching. He wasn’t simply walking up to them. He was marching.
“Hey, Shining Armor!” asked an excited Pinkie Pie, completely oblivious to Shining’s mood. “What are you doing here? Did you get assigned to the investigation? Didja? Huh? Didja?”
“Shiny… insisted on driving me here after I told him we were investigating,” explained Twilight, shifting her weight nervously from one leg to the other.
Shining’s face flushed a deep, angry red, and the alarms in Sunset’s brain grew even louder. Then, like a volcano under pressure, Shining Armor erupted. “What do you girls think you're doing?!” he shouted. “This is a police investigation! Do you know how much trouble you could get into?” He swept his arms in front of himself, pointing to Twilight. “Not only that, you dragged my sister in on this!”
“Shiny, it's okay,” Twilight soothed.
Shining Armor gave her a stern look. “No, it's not.” Running a hand through hair, he turned to Rarity. “Look, I get that you want to help your dad. I really do. If it were me, I'd want to do the same thing. But you're just kids, and this is a serious crime. You're not going to find anything that the officers over there,” he gestured in the direction of the store front, “aren't going to find. If you get in their way, you could get charged with impeding a police investigation, or tampering with a crime scene.”
Sunset looked at Rarity. She knew that deep down, her friend was scared. Sunset was, too. And honestly, it wasn't like they'd found much of anything thus far.
Sure, the lock on the backdoor looked like it had been tampered with, but that was hardly a strong case against arresting Hondo. And other than that, all they had were some tire tracks, which very well could have just been someone turning around; a moved dumpster; some grease stains; and a footprint near the door with bits of the ever-present garbage.
But to Sunset's great surprise, Rarity didn't look scared at all. In fact, she was beaming.
“Actually, I we've found quite a bit of evidence that points toward my father's innocence.”
Shining Armor looked taken aback. Clearly, of all the responses he'd expected, that hadn't been one of them. “... What?”
“Ditto on that,” added Sunset.
“It's all quite simple, Sunset, darling.” Clearing her throat, Rarity stepped out in the middle of the alley. All eyes were on her now, locked in attention, and Rarity, ever dramatic, just soaked it in. She was in her element. With a flourish, she pointed to the dumpster. “First of all, we have this.”
“Your evidence is a dumpster?” asked Shining Armor, unimpressed.
“Yes. A few days ago, I heard Father telling mother that he'd needed to get rid of some bulky inventory. He'd said he'd wanted to move the dumpster closer to his door to make it easier. When it wouldn't move, he greased the wheels. If you look, you'll see they're still coated.”
Shining Armor knelt down to look at the wheels. “So?”
“Ms. Typeface, the shop owner next door, said that as of late, this dumpster has been moved so far down the alley that it blocked her own back door. If you look, you'll see the greasy tracks it left behind. She blamed Father for it, but in truth, someone else moved it down the alley.”
“But why?” asked Fluttershy.
“Quite simple. They were breaking into Father's store.” Rarity walked over to the tire tracks. “Notice these tracks right here. A car drove up to this spot, and recently, as it hasn't rained in the last few days. Most importantly, these tracks do not belong to my father's car. They're far too close together, and the tread is completely different. As you pointed out, darling,” Rarity looked at her now, “this is what's called a directional tread, while my father's tires have a symmetrical tread.
“The reason they moved the dumpster is because they needed space. Notice how close the tire tracks are to the dumpster now. Anybody parking here would be practically trapped.”
“Somebody could have been turning around,” said Shining Armor. His anger from earlier had dissipated, and now he seemed... was he genuinely curious? Yes, Sunset was fairly sure he was. Curious, but also cautious.
“But would that same person also walk up to the back door?” asked Rarity. “Take a look at this footprint, and the puddle next to it. Whoever stepped here also stepped in the excess wheel grease. That means this footprint is fairly recent. In addition, you can see bits of rubber and string on top of it, which Rainbow Dash tells me are used to fill the inside of baseballs and hockey pucks, some of the things that were used as hiding places.”
“That could just be your dad's,” said Shining, though even he didn't sound very convinced, staring suspiciously at the footprint.
To this, Rarity just turned to face Bow. “Mr. Hothoof, you've known Father since college, so perhaps you can answer this question for me.”
Bow's cheeks flushed as every eye turned to him. “Uh, sure. What do you want to know?”
“Has Father ever worn boots?”
The man blinked. “Not that I remember. He's always been more into sneakers. Why?”
“Because unless Father has suddenly taken to both boots and Aresches, then that,” she pointed at the footprint, “was not made by him.”
Stepping forward out of the crowd, Applejack looked down at the print. “That sure looks like a boot to me, but what in the Sam hill is Aresches?”
“It’s a French shoe manufacturer, Applejack,” explained Rarity. “You can tell it’s from one of their boots because they put their logo on the sole.” She pointed at the center of the print, where a heavily stylized A was visible. “And if you look closely, you can just see the same logo mixed in with the tire tracks.”
Moving back over to the tracks, she held out her magnifying glass. Indeed, right there, at the edge of the track, was the same stylized A. Sunset had seen a disturbance in the track before, but presumed that she’d done that with her own shoes.
“Aresches shoes are very fashionable, and quite expensive,” Rarity continued. “Here.” She pulled out her phone, and after a bit of searching, showed the company’s website. “You can see for yourself how high they can run.”
The fire-haired girl balked. She saw a pair that was three times as expensive as her own boots, and then balked even more when she realized that was one of the lower prices.
“You could search our entire house right this instant, and you wouldn't find a single pair of men's boots. You especially wouldn't find a pair like this. Mother and Father have never been interested in high end or fashionable clothing, despite all the times I've tried to encourage them.”
Standing up again, she stuck a dramatic pose. “No, there was another person here. This person, a man, I’d say, judging by the shoe size, moved the dumpster, drove into the alley, and then went to Father’s back door, stepping in the leftover grease as he went. And as he exited, he left behind traces of the tampered merchandise.
“This man is the real pharmacy thief!” Rarity declared. “He broke into my father’s store, intending to use it to either hide or distribute his stolen goods!”
Sunset stood there, jaw open, utterly flabbergasted. Rarity had actually done it. She'd found solid evidence. Not that Sunset had expected them to find nothing, but... well, she wasn't really sure what she'd expected. Certainly not this.
Shining Armor's eyes moved back and forth across the evidence. Sunset could practically see the gears turning in his mind. “I think I'd better report this to Detective Copper,” he said at last. “It'll come off a lot better coming from me.” He gave Rarity a nod of approval. “You did good here, Rarity. I can't say this is enough evidence to get your dad completely off the hook, but it may be enough to get him released.”
As Shining Armor walked off to inform his superior officer, silence fell over the group, a silence that was soon decimated by a shout of joy from Pinkie Pie.
“You did it!” cried Pinkie.
“That was awesome, Rarity,” said Rainbow Dash. “Totally cool.”
“I was definitely impressed,” Sunset added.
“Thank you,” said Rarity. Her cheeks tinged red. “I wasn't quite sure until I'd seen everything, but then it all just came together.” Her expression became pinched. “Though it would have been so much better if I'd been able to identify the actual criminal.”
“I'd definitely like to get my hands on the guy that did this to your pa,” muttered Applejack. “Of all the lowdown things, usin' his store to stash his loot.”
“I think we're going to have to leave that to the police for the moment,” said Sunset. “And speaking of which, they're probably going to be here any minute to expand the crime scene.”
“We should stay,” said Twilight. “They'll want to establish everything you touched.”
Sunset couldn't say she was entirely thrilled with the idea of talking to the detective in charge, but it was yet another of those things that needed to be done, no matter how uncomfortable they were. Hopefully they wouldn't give her the same suspicious looks Shining Armor had.
Leaning against a wall, Sunset forced herself to relax. The intruder, whoever he was, remained free, but Rarity's dad wouldn't be spending a night in jail, and perhaps with a little luck, would avoid being put on trial altogether.
Glancing over at Rarity, she saw her friend already typing away on her phone. “Who are you texting?”
“Mother and Sweetie Belle,” answered Rarity. “I'm letting them know Father may be released.”
Sunset smiled. They'd definitely be glad to get that news. Thinking of them reminded Sunset of her own sort-of-but-not-really guardian back at her apartment. Sunny Skies, her mentor's human construct, was probably wondering what she was up to. Taking out her phone, Sunset sent a quick text of her own to let Sunny know everything was alright.
It was just another day in the life of her friends.
The noise of the pub was almost comforting as Decepticolt slipped inside, a distraction from the way his pulse hammered in his ears. He'd left for Canterlot almost immediately after he and his friends had spoken with their master, a plan already beginning to form. The key was information, and the best place to get it was here: The Golden Shield.
A guard pub.
For a fugitive such as himself, walking into The Golden Shield was a dangerous gamble. Were he to be recognized, he'd be arrested on the spot with no hope of escape, and sent to prison for sure.
But to not walk in, to not observe and investigate, and to not find a way to gain access to Princess Celestia? Not doing that was inviting the wrath of their master, and that was even more awful to contemplate than any prison in the world.
Taking a deep breath, Decepticolt continued his trek inside. He just needed to think of it like a performance, and if there was one thing he'd never been nervous about in his entire life, it was a performance.
He'd already prepared himself beforehoof. Careful applications of wax, makeup, gray mane dye, a well-worn pair of saddlebags, a wool cap, a pair of glasses, and the careful use of a paintbrush had all worked to make him an older stallion with a twisting river for a cutie mark.
It was similar to the Old Trot disguise, but Old Trot wouldn't have done for this. He was homeless, worn down by the world, a wretch that lived in back alleys and under bridges. A pony like him would never have walked into a place like this. Thus, Decepticolt had created a different character: River Bank.
“Bartenda! Can I get a glass of ciduh?” he greeted, dropping his Rs as he took on into what was called the Eastern New Eagleland accent, slipping into it as easily as a pony put on a saddlebag.
Using it brought forth memories of his uncle, Phonetic Spelling. Good old Uncle Phony. He'd taught Decepticolt every accent in Equestria, and many beyond, but the ones of the northeast had always been his uncle's favorites.
Decepticolt could still recall those days clearly, being a colt, laying on the sofa of his family's Los Pegasus home, and just letting the sounds of Uncle Phonetic's words roll over him like a wave, listening until Decepticolt new every nuance by heart, and with practice, could mimic them to perfection.
The corner of his mouth twitched, just for a second, beginning to form a nostalgic smile, but Decepticolt forced it back in place. Now wasn't the time for that. Now was the time to perform. Decepticolt had ceased to exist, faded away into nothing, and to the world, there was only River Bank.
“Sure thing,” said the earth pony behind the counter. Pouring a glass, he set it before Decepticolt, and then excused himself to the kitchen area.
Decepticolt scanned the room. The walls were made of oak paneling, and covered in photographs, banners from various guard regiments, and even a few antique weapons. A chandelier hung overhead to catch the light of candles once night came.
Every corner of the room was filled with ponies. Few wore armor, but even for those that didn't, there was little mistaking them for anything other than royal guards. You could tell it in the way they kept their manes, in the way they carried themselves, and just something about their faces. They chatted with friends, talking about life, their families, exchanging stories from their shifts, all while sharing hearty meals.
Here, the royal guards talked freely, safe among themselves. And somewhere, hidden in the din of this place like a diamond buried in the ground, he'd find a lead, something to facilitate their plans. Decepticolt didn't know how or when, but he'd find it here.
So, he sat on the stool, keeping his eyes and ears open as he sipped his drink. River Bank, he decided, was thinking about how different this city was to Hosston, and how much he missed the thicker, watery air, and how much some of the stallions in the room reminded him of his old co-workers at the docks.
Twenty minutes went by, and he hadn't gleaned anything even remotely promising. But that's when she trotted in. A rather petite unicorn, but lean with muscle, he observed, with a light red coat and a sapphire-colored mane tied in a Prench braid that ended at her shoulders. Rather cute, now that he got a look at her.
She hopped onto a stool a few over from him. “A glass of apple cider, please.”
“Coming right up,” said the bartender, turning to fix her a drink.
The mare laid her head down on the surface of the bar, letting out a long sigh. “Posted to the palace right out of training?” she muttered. “Great.”
Decepticolt's ears perked up.
The bartender placed the drink in front of her. The mare took a sip, then ordered a plate of hay chips. Decepticolt took a few bits from his saddlebag and slid them toward her. “I'll pay for it.”
The mare eyed him suspiciously. “I don't need you to pay for me, Mr. ...?”
“River Bank,” he said, offering her an open, friendly smile, the sort of smile that fit a pony like River Bank perfectly.
“Signal Fire.”
“A pleasure to meet you, young lady. And it's no trouble at all. It's the least I can do for a newly passed recruit.”
Signal Fire narrowed her eyes. “How'd you know I just passed?”
“I heard you talking,” River Bank said casually. “You weren't as quiet as you thought you were, I'm guessing.”
The mare blushed. “Oh.”
Chuckling, he raised his glass, tipping it toward her. “Congratulations.”
Rather than be flattered, the mare just seemed even more embarrassed. “Can't say I'm much of a recruit,” she muttered into her own drink. “I just barely passed training. I never should've been assigned to the palace, but my sergeant got me there. He said he had faith in me, but I'm just not sure I'm really cut out for this.” She sighed. “The royal guard's Mare Recruitment Program seemed like such a good idea at the time.”
The gears turned in Decepticolt's head, even as a part of him registered the sound of her words, noting that she was probably from either Chicoltgo or Detrot. And then, he realized something else about her, something that nearly made him break character with a large, cunning grin: She was very close to being a body double for Zappityhoof.
Yes, there were a myriad of small differences between the two. The coloration, the length and style of her mane and tail, the mole on her left cheek instead of Zap's freckles, and a slightly greater weight. But makeup could fix most of those things, and nopony would complain about a new recruit losing a pound or two.
Had he actually thought she was cute before? That was akin to saying Zap was cute. His stomach heaved. What a disgusting thought.
“I'm sure your family must be proud of you, though,” he said kindly, even as he returned to calculating every little difference between her and his compatriot.
“They are,” said Signal Fire. “Or, he is, anyway. My dad's my only family these days. He lives out in Detrot. What about you? You have any family here?”
“Just my daughter,” he said. He allowed his expression to soften, drawing on his earlier nostalgia. “You remind me a lot of her, actually.”
Signal Fire blushed deeper. “Really?”
He nodded. “My little River Delta. Real firebrand, she is. Takes after her mother. Insisted I come up here last week to live with her so I wouldn't be so lonely now that...”
Signal Fire leaned in closer. “Now that what?”
Here, he turned his head away, swapping the happy, friendly smile for a look of melancholy. His eyes moved to the glass of cider. Could River Bank see a face in the amber liquid, a face other than his own? Yes, Decepticolt decided, he could. River Bank could see the rippled image of a smile, a pair of soft eyes, a delicate mouth. A mare's face. So much like his little Delta.
“My wife. She... passed away a couple of months ago. Pneumonia.” He winced. The thought of his wife always made River Bank wince, the pain still so fresh and terrible.
Signal Fire let out a horrified gasp. “I'm so sorry.”
He waved a hoof. “Nothing for you to be sorry about, young lady.” He suppressed a familiar wave of giddiness rising in his chest. As the griffons would say, he had her hook, line, and sinker. It never seemed to get old, that sensation of knowing his audience believed in his performance, that they didn't see him, just his character, made true flesh and blood.
Truly, was there any better feeling in the world? If there was, he'd certainly never found it.
“Why'd you come to a guard pub, anyway?” asked Signal Fire, clearly eager to move away from the unintentional wound she's struck. “It's not the sort of place a civilian goes to when they're new to the city.”
“Ah, but that's where I think you're wrong,” he laughed, giving her a grin. “Since I'm new to Canterlot and don't feel quite safe around here yet, what better place to go when I want food and entertainment than a place filled with royal guards?”
Signal Fire joined in his laughter. “Can't argue with that.”
They chatted for a while longer, Signal Fire telling him her stories of training, while he reciprocated with the tale of River Bank, his trials and tribulations as a dock worker in Hosston. Really, there was potential for a play there. His cousin Community Theater would probably love to script something like this. He always did like stories about the common pony more than epic dramas.
But for Decepticolt, it was more than mindless chatter. Even as he crafted his tale, improvising whole sections, he filed away every important little detail she let slip, who her friends were, what they did, what happened to her mother, her favorite foods, the name of her fellow recruits in camp, the name of her sergeant.
Eventually, Decepticolt felt his throat start to go dry. “Another glass of cider,” he requested.
When the glass was placed before him, Decepticolt reached into his saddlebags to pull out some bits, but was interrupted by Signal Fire.
“Let me do that,” insisted the mare. “You already paid for mine. It's only fair I pay for yours.” As she placed a few bits on the counter, her stool wobbled, and the coins clattered to the floor. “Shoot.”
Decepticolt chuckled. “I'll get them.” He bent down low, spotting the glint of gold wedged into a crack where the base of the bar met the floor. “There they are.” But even as he spotted the coins, his eyes landed on something else lost in that shaded space -- a poster. Crumpled and starting to be worn by time, it showed three unicorns and the phrase “WANTED FOR ASSAULT” in large, capital letters.
Decepticolt's eyes went as wide as dinner plates, so wide his contacts almost fell free.
“You okay?” asked a concerned Signal Fire.
“I'm fine,” Decepticolt replied, though it took significant effort on his part not to sound shaken. Blast it all, he'd almost broken character. Quickly, he grabbed both the coins and the poster in his magic, presenting the former to the mare and using that as a distraction while he covertly rolled up the latter and stuffed it into his saddlebag. Disguise or no, it was best not to take the chance of being recognized.
As he did this, however, he decided that he'd gotten as much information as he really needed, and that he could use this situation to his advantage. So as he took a sip of his drink, he turned to look at the clock.
“Is that the time?” he asked innocently. “I'd better be getting back. Delta's going to be back soon, and she'll start wondering where her old man wandered off to.” As he rose from the stool, he twisted his back ever so slightly, and let out a cry of pain.
“Are you alright?” asked a worried Signal Fire, getting down to help him.
“Cramp in my back,” he groaned, clamping his teeth together as he twisted his body again. “Happens sometimes. Guess bending down like that put it out of sorts. Don't worry, I'll be fine.”
“I think I'd better take you home,” said Signal Fire. “Here, lean on me.”
“You don't need to do that,” he replied, flinching as he moved a foreleg.
“Don't be stubborn,” she said, using her magic to pull him closer to her. “You can't walk by yourself, and if I let you go home like that, I'd resign from the guard.”
He smiled. “Well, we can't have that, can we?”
Satisfied that she'd won the argument, Signal Fire settled her bill with the bartender and led Decepticolt back onto the street. He gave her the address, and they navigated the streets in relative silence until they reached his apartment, or at least, the room he'd rented for his stay here.
Once the door was open, Signal Fire took him inside. “Over there,” he told her, pointing to a large cushioned chair. “I like that one better.”
The mare set him down gently. “There you go. Are you going to be okay? Can I get you some ice or something?”
“A glass of water would be nice.”
Signal Fire turned her back to him, moving to the kitchenette to look for a glass, and Decepticolt quickly rifled through his saddlebags, finding the hidden compartment he'd sewn inside. With split second timing, he'd pulled out the contents and released them onto the floor just as Signal Fire turned back around.
“Here you—AHH!” The red unicorn fell backwards as her hoof slipped out from under her. The glass she’d been holding fell, shattering around her as she tried to maintain her balance.
As Signal Fire struggled to regain her hoofing, the half dozen smoke bombs underneath her ignited, creating a thick, rainbow-colored haze around her. The mare coughed and wheezed, flailing her legs even more. “What,” she coughed, “what’s—”
She never got to finish her sentence. Seeing his chance, Decepticolt leapt from the chair and fired a beam of magic. It struck Signal Fire dead on, and with a final cry of pain, she dropped to the floor, unconscious.
Standing over the downed guard, Decepticolt grinned. “You were a great audience, kid,” he told her, bowing deeply. “It was a pleasure performing for you today.”
He closed his eyes, reaching out for his friends. Time to tell them the good news.
Goldcap, Zappityhoof, the investigation just paid off. I found a way into the palace.
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Gotta say its nice to finally get back to the Sunset storyline which continues to be great. I feel like I can at least tolerate the Equestria stuff as long as the Sunset stuff continues to be this good.
Wouldn't be surprised if this was the second in a string of Humane Fam Framing. Amusing to put a bookstore as the shop next door. I'm honestly so amped to see Celestia's reaction to the Equestria issue.
(saw a typo: "listening until Decepticolt new every nuance by heart" knew*)
Thanks for writing!
I can't wait to see how these two stories intersect.
I hope you continue this because I can't wait to see what you come up with and i love both these narratives you've developed.
Yeah. Thought it'd be that wolf. Mention anything connected to the sun and all other business will naturally go on the back burner.
Shining Armor might be overly optimistic, since the expected immediate change to the narrative will be that Hondo had an accomplice. Even finding whoever did the break-in to the pharmacy and store (assuming it's the same party in each case) and conclusively proving that Hondo wasn't involved in any of it just means the investigation just is temporarily out of known crimes for Hondo to be guilty of - although that really ought to be enough to get him released presuming the investigators are themselves entirely clean. And that shouldn't be a real problem here. Even in the unlikely event that the good ol' bolts network extends much into the local police force, Shining himself is a graduate, his little sister abandoned Crystal Prep, and he already knows if any of his coworkers gave him any grief then.
I hope we get another chapter soon, I love this story!
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I wish I could say it will be soon. While I am working on it, it's a slow process, slowed down by the fact that I'm pretty busy these days. But slow and steady wins the race, I suppose.
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Well I’m willing to wait. I’m sure it will be amazing, loving this story so far, you’ve done really well.
I keep expecting FBI agent Ryan Gibson (my xcom character) to step in as a favor to his friend lightning spark ( The therapist) they met through the Isekai