Where could a black fox inspire a wealthy unicorn to dress like a nocturnal flying herbivore and fight crime? Only in Equestria. For lo, when the sun has set and the parties are done, Prince Blueblood sets aside his socialite mask and becomes...
Who is the Dark Knight, The Shadow Sleuth, the Caped Crusader of Canterlot?
How does he patrol the night, protecting those who cannot protect themselves?
How can he dare pit himself against such threats as Conundrum, Feline Fatale, and Madame Frost?
How is it that he and playboy layabout Prince Blueblood have never been seen at the same time?
And what of Sparrow? Where does she come from? Where does she go? Whose daughter is she? Will we ever know?
Read on to find out, in Detective Pony Comics Present!
The white mare’s rage was palpable as she shook herself violently, pelting Prince Blueblood with bits of cake and frosting.
“No…!” Shrinking away from the onslaught of hate-propelled confection, he staggered into the great alicorn statue, the centerpiece of the Grand Galloping Gala. He cowered in its shadow as it teetered on its pedestal like a quadrupedal colossus. Then, with the groan of a bending metal facehoof, it began falling towards the one area around its plinth where no ponies were standing. Yet in a flash of multicolored light, another young mare – this one a pegasus – was beneath it, valiantly trying to keep its weight from the floor. She staggered beneath the massive sculpture for several seconds before it collided with a column, setting a chain reaction as the pillars fell like Discord’s own domino set, each one striking another even as it broke into multiple pieces from the impact. A moment later, the alicorn figure itself split along the neck, falling to either side of her.
Blueblood had just enough time to overhear his Aunt Celestia’s apprentice mutter, “Well, it can’t get any worse” when the main doors burst open, releasing an avalanche of wild animals upon the unsuspecting throng of partygoers. Hot on their heels was another young pegasus, obviously barking mad, screaming at the animals with a crimson fury, demanding that they love her.
While Twilight Sparkle and her companions fled out the front doors and Celestia began calming the panicking nobility, Blueblood slipped away from the chaos, out the back, deeper into the palace. Waiting for him in the hallway was his faithful servant. Impeccable, unshakable, and always above reproach, he held a towel out to the young prince. Blueblood accepted the heated, soapy towel gratefully, and began cleaning the worst of the frosting from his mane as they walked.
“Well, Pennyworth, how did I do?”
“Positively vaudevillian, suh. Your reputation as a spoiled cad and blackguard is assured for another fortnight, at least.”
“Good. The last thing we need is for my mask to be compromised.”
“Of course, suh.” Stepping forward, the older pony opened the door for his master, and followed him in. “Still,” he mused, “Are you quite certain such lengths are necessary, Master Blueblood? It occurs to me that most stallions manage to maintain a foul reputation without nearly such effort. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Completely necessary, old friend,” Blueblood replied, his voice relaxing into its natural hoarse growl. Gratefully, he accepted the tea his servant offered him, its warmth soothing the strain of maintaining a melodic voice for so long. “If anything, that designer’s attentions prove it. So long as Prince Blueblood is a target for mares’ affections, so long as anypony is trying to get close, the mask is in jeopardy.” He took another sip. “And my work depends upon the mask.”
“Of course, suh.” While his master relaxed from his social efforts, Pennyworth deftly untied the bowtie around the young pony’s neck, noting with satisfaction the compass rose cutie mark dissolving as the enchanted neckpiece was removed. No matter how the young master had modified the spell, for some reason the West point was always slightly more pronounced. A curious side effect, but one they’d both made peace with years ago.
“Though I must confess, your obsession about this ‘mask’ business sometimes strikes me as a bit juvenile,” the butler went on. “Rather like when you were small, and insisted on wearing your Black Fox mask to bed. I was always concerned you were going to smother yourself.”
A frown creased the unicorn’s face. “You think I’m childish?”
“Of course not, suh. Perish the thought.” As he undid the rest of his master’s formal wear, a thought occurred to him. “Oh, and I ironed your tights and laid out your little cape, and I packed you a snack in case you get hungry.”
“Peanut butter jelly?” The growl was hopeful.
Pennyworth presented a small paper bag. Written in the butler’s prim hoofwriting was his master’s true name: Batmane.
“With the crusts cut off, suh,” He smiled.
LATER, IN THE MANECAVE…
“You’ve solved your young femme fatale’s riddle, I take it?” Pennyworth asked.
“Of course.” Batmane took another sip. Pennyworth made the best tea ever. “‘The rose of friendship bound in ice, borne by crown sitar; within my heart I bear the mark of thunder’s loose guitar.’ Obviously a reference to the pink panther diamond, once owned by Lady Kalisa, famed for her skills in music. The jewel was a gift from her father, Lord Ratnam, for her sixteenth birthday. If it’s held up to the light the image of a panther can be seen, crouched and ready to strike.”
“Thunder’s loose guitar, suh?”
“A cat’s purr.”
“Begging your pardon, Master Blue, but it strikes me that panthers don’t purr.”
“Normally, you would be correct, old friend!” Batmane turned to him with sudden energy. “But the pink panther is a very rare breed. Found only in Catmandu and Kittymanjaro, the pink panthers are the one species well noted for their purring, as well as for their dance troupes and their pantomime skills.” He took another sip and went on, “This is of course in contrast to the blue panthers, who are renowned for their luchador skills and singing voices; or the elusive mauve panthers, who remain feared to this day for their deadly combat crocheting. Peter Sellers’ Guide to Civilizations around the World, page one hundred seventy-five, paragraphs nine through twelve.”
Pennyworth bowed slightly. “I defer to your superior knowledge, suh. Shall I summon Sparrow?”
“No. They’ll still be on vacation.” He looked up and away, nobly accepting his burden. “I’ll be handling Conundrum alone.”
“Very good, suh.”
With dynamic purpose, the Dark Detective strode to his underground wardrobe. He flung open the doors, revealing his enchanted work clothes.
“This,” He said as he donned his gear with Pennyworth’s help, “This is my true face, Pennyworth.”
“Of course, suh.”
“Darkness. The night. The shadows of justice.”
“Just as you say, suh.”
“It was that night, Pennyworth. The night I got my cutie mark. My true cutie mark.” He glanced back at his flank, and the mark which was momentarily visible there, free from his illusion magic. “The night the fox crept through my open window, I knew it was a sign.”
“I did warn you not to leave your dinner by the window, suh.”
“I knew it that was an omen. That it was my burden, my destiny, to become the night. To bring justice through darkness. To protect the innocent. To strike fear into the hearts of criminals, always a superstitious, cowardly lot…”
“Yet, for all that it was a fox, I cannot help but note that you dress yourself as a bat, suh.”
At last, Batmane donned his signature cowl, its magic hiding his horn even as it darkened his coat, concealed the color of his eyes. He glared down at his servant with the orbs of an immortal being of the night itself as his cutie mark shifted again, this time disguised as a bat silhouette against a yellow oval.
“Bats are cooler, Pennyworth.”
“Of course, suh.”
LATER, AMONG THE ROOFTOPS OF CANTERLOT…
Batmane shifted uncomfortably in the furtive darkness of the gargoyle-encrusted clock tower, half-listening to the concert nearby. An international shock rocker, Black Rainbow, was snarling and whining about long, hard roads while he staggered around on stage. Even from such a distance, Batmane could see the vocalist’s signature crooked horn gleaming plainly in the spotlight. Several times, it looked as if he was going to fall off the stage entirely.
Small wonder, the Caped Crusader thought grimly, washing down the last of his sandwich with a swallow of warm milk. Punks like that scarcely know they have a life to lose. His eyes narrowed. And after all, punk is nothing but death, and crime, and the rage of a…
With the speed of a falcon, his head snapped up. Batmane’s inescapable senses had detected the slightest hint of movement along the nearby roof of the museum. He quickly secured his bat collapsible thermos and bat lunch bag in his utility belt, wiping away his milk mustache as he did so. A second later, the green figure appeared, her purple mane and tail half-lit by the moon’s glow as she bounced towards the museum’s skylight. The Shadow Sleuth spread his cloak as he glided down towards her. The three question marks on her flank were unmistakable, but hardly necessary. There was only one mare in all of Equestria who had the irrepressible energy to literally bounce everywhere she might go, even when trying to sneak into a high-security building.
Conundrum.
He landed behind her even as she was cutting the skylight glass with a balloon animal. He nodded grimly as he observed her criminal wiles. Diabolical, he thought.
“It’s over, Conundrum,” he growled. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
The super villain whipped around, staring at him with the look of a trapped Québécoise beaver, her burglary device forgotten.
“Batmane!” Her high-pitched voice pierced the night as her eyes narrowed with criminal intent. The balloon animal – a giraffe, he realized – made a long, high-pitched squeaking raspberry-like sound as it gently floated away, releasing its trapped breath into the nighttime sky.
“So, you figured me out,” she declared with a dramatic wave of her hoof. “But you will find that resolving a rhyming riddle and capturing the clever Conundrum are a duo of decidedly different deeds!” Their glares matched one another, the wind whipping their manes like a tormented dervish.
Then, suddenly, she grinned. “Chase me!” she squealed, and leaped off the roof as though cannonballing into the very River Styx to her sudden, instant, and even… immediate death.
For less than a heartbeat, he stared after her, unbelieving. Then, the Shadow Sleuth sprang after her with the grace of a gymnastic gazelle and the athletic prowess of a cheetah on a trampoline.
WHAT’S THIS?
BATMANE, SPLATTERED AGAINST THE GROUND??
AND CONUNDRUM, MAKING THE ULTIMATE ESCAPE THROUGH SHEER MORTALITY???
IS THIS THE END OF THE CAPED CRUSADER’S ADVENTURES????
WE REJOIN BATMANE AT THE CANTERLOT MUSEUM, HAVING JUST LEAPED OFF ITS ROOF AFTER THE ARCH-CRIMINAL CONUNDRUM…
With a high-pitched series of maniacal giggles, Conundrum held her hooves together as she hurtled around the museum’s exterior on a slide made entirely out of twisted-together balloons. Right behind her was Batmane, angling himself with the masterful grace of a salmon spawning in baby oil, forehooves first, determined to capture the mistress of mysteries. Yet, for all that he was both more aerodynamic and wearing spandex, the derrière of the duchess of dastardly dumbfounding devices somehow slid with superior serendipitous speed.
“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…!”
The treacherous slide of villainy squeaked and wiggled perilously with the centrifugal force of their journey as the two chased down and around, the multicolored ride encompassing the entirety of the regal estate several times in its spiral, finally reaching the ground. Conundrum bounced to her feet and bounced away, with the Shadow Sleuth in hot pursuit.
ONE RELATIVELY SHORT BAT CHASE SCENE LATER, IN THE CANTERLOT WAREHOUSE DISTRICT…
The warehouse was old, its doors and windows sealed shut with bboards and years of disuse. Abandoned, splashed only with occasional silver moonlight, its interior was as dark as an arch-villain’s dreams. Conundrum bounced past the front doors and around the corner, with the Caped Crusader fast behind. He could hear his prey smash through a window before him, and even as he dodged the remains of broken boards and shattered glass lining the decimated portal the Batmane rolled capably to his hooves in the middle of a large, darkened room.
The shadows, usually his ally, now seemed to mock the Dark Knight. The only source of light was the shaft of his aunt’s moonlight piercing through the decimated window behind him, the expanse of shelves forming corridors in several directions. An expert glance around himself confirmed the truth of the large black-on-orange sign posted high on the wall across from him: PERSONAL COLLECTION OF STOLEN PRICELESS JEWELS. Yet, of Conundrum there was no sign.
Then, suddenly, out from the darkness ahead, a taunting voice:
“Riddle me this, Batmane! I am the pearl bound in silken black manse, the fathoms mimic me and follow in my dance. What am I?”
“The moon.”
“Correct!” A child’s party favor gave its high-pitched cry from the darkness.
Eyes narrowed, the Shadow Sleuth carefully began making his way towards her. Keep her talking, he thought.
“Now try this one!”
Easily done, apparently.
“Brought by race of tail and mane, orchards burn within my flame—”
“Autumn.” He continued to stalk into the darkness. Where was she?
“Hey, you shouldn’t interrupt a riddle! Don’t you know that?” the super criminal ranted. “You might miss something important, Batmane!”
Normally, the Dark Knight preferred the darkness. But Conundrum knew every nook and cranny of her criminal habitat, and that gave her an advantage.
One that he intended to remove.
Reaching into his utility belt, he withdrew his set of monogrammed bat opera glasses and held them to his eyes. Their red lenses were magic, allowing his vision to extend into the infra-red spectrum. His adversary’s hoofprints were plain now, regularly spaced leap-points gently glowing like four-leafed clovers of illicit intent against the cool concrete floor. Slipping through the shadows like the whisper of a thought, he advanced upon her. Unseen. Unheard. A bane to criminals everywhere. The cause of their nightmares and the scourge of their villainous dreams.
“And so, what do these things have in common, Mister Smarty-Pants?” came her mocking challenge.
There she was, lounging next to a massive lever with a large sign above it marked, DON’T. She watched the ceiling with a mad grin. Stowing his opera glasses, his cape billowing out around and behind him like the wings of a dark god of terror, Batmane leaped upon her from the living darkness like a starving panda on a sushi roll. He collided with his adversary and bore her down, using his mastery of ancient blind fighting techniques to full advantage.
“It’s over, Conundrum! Hold still while I apply the bat cuffs!” he commanded.
Succumbing to the weakness of every criminal, Conundrum’s mad giggles betrayed her cowardly fear of the avenging vigilante. “Eek! That tickles!”
“I have you now!”
“Yay! Twister!”
“Your struggles are futile! Crime never pays!”
“Right forehoof green!”
“You’re only making this harder on yourself!”
“Left rear hoof red!”
“I’m not wearing hockey pads!”
“Left forehoof--- wait, what?”
“I am vengeance! I am darkness!”
“Aha!” With the speed of a tap-dancing serpent, Conundrum somehow stretched her left foreleg at an impossible length and angle, pulling the DON’T lever into the down position. The floor dropped out from beneath Batmane like a wet pair of bloomers even as the ceiling lights activated, reducing the Dark Knight to clutching the edge of the newly-opened pit. Conundrum, meanwhile, bounced like a yo-yo, held aloft by her mane… which had somehow wrapped itself around the staff of a stallion magician’s statue.
What is it with mares and statues tonight, Batmane wondered as he scrambled for a better grip.
“Gravity!” she proclaimed joyously.
“But what does that have to do with aaaaaaaaaaaaa…” his heroic grip failing him at last, Batmane plummeted into the inky void below.
“Everything, if you’d answered the second riddle right,” she admonished him. “It isn’t ‘Autumn,’ it’s ‘Fall!’ Get it? Fall? And the tides under the moon?” She lapsed into more giggling. Then, cocking her head, “Wow, you’re really not very good at this.”
“I am the night!” came the muffled reply.
“Well, okay, The Night, but there’s still the question of what to do with you.” Impossibly, Conundrum flexed her mane and pulled herself into a backwards summersault, landing on the other side of the pit. “Fortunately, I’m always ready for party guests.” She gestured around herself grandly. “Welcome, Batmane, to my Room of Refreshment!”
The Shadow Sleuth, meanwhile, had wasted no time in examining his new environment. Precisely ten feet across, perfectly circular, exactly fifty feet deep, the walls made unclimbable with a lining of… he sniffed the wall suspiciously, then, frowning, licked it.
Caramel topping! His worst suspicions confirmed, he could only look up the nigh-frictionless shaft at the silhouette of his tormentor. “You’ll never get away with this, Conundrum!”
“Oh, you silly billy, I always do!” she giggled. “And now that you are in my needlessly convoluted death trap, I shall activate your unnecessarily slow demise and leave, blithely assuming that everything shall go according to my sinister plan.”
As the Caped Crusader watched helplessly, his villainous foe pulled a large contraption partway over the pit and pressed a series of buttons. It began churning and chugging, sending a cascade of cool air downwards into the deadly shaft. Beneath its flashing lights, another black-on-orange sign labeled it in chilling detail: ICE CREAM DEATH SUNDAE MIXER DEVICE.
“Rocky road would kill you instantly,” she declared maniacally, “but for your interference in my achieving the pink panther diamond, I want you to die slow… so it’s pistachio chip for you!!”
“You fiend!” Bad enough if he must die, but to die buried in his favorite ice cream--!
As the diabolical contraption above his head continued to churn, green confection began to rain down upon the hero in uneven globs.
“This is the end of the road for you, Batmane,” Conundrum chortled. “My death sundae mixer can generate enough ice cream to fill the entire shaft! Um, however much that is,” she considered idly.
“Exactly three thousand, nine hundred and twenty-six point nine-nine-oh-eight-two cubic feet, or just under thirty thousand gallons,” observed Batmane. “Naturally, that doesn’t account for the loss in volume when it melts… which averages about forty-eight percent, making the net volume after melting approximately one thousand, eight hundred eighty-five cubic feet, or a height of only twenty-six feet.” He paused, then added, “Not counting evaporation, of course, and the inevitable formation of foam.”
“I guess I’ll just have to come back and top you off,” she grinned. “Enjoy your just desserts, Batmane! I’m off to steal the pink panther diamond… and a twenty-pound maraschino cherry!” As she turned away, she began laughing with the sinister merriment of an evil kitten wielding a polymorph potion.
Suddenly, she stopped. “Wow,” she considered, “I sure went from naughty to downright evil in a hurry, didn’t I?” She paused, then shrugged. “Oh, well.”
Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce…
The hero heard Conundrum’s kinetic egress from below, even as he furtively searched around himself for some way out. Yet there seemed to be none. The coming centuries seemed to mock him like demons of despair, promising him a tomb for all time in frozen deliciousness, even as he felt the level of frozen hard-serve around his ankles slowly begin to rise…
CAN IT BE?
BATMANE, DOOMED TO DEATH IN A DEVISTATING DESSERT??
WILL EVIL BE VICTORIOUS AGAINST THE FORCES OF GOOD AT LAST???
CAN THIS TRULY BE THE TERRIBLE YET DELICIOUS END OF THE SHADOW SLEUTH’S CRIME-FIGHTING CAREER????
WE REJOIN CONUNDRUM AT HER CRIMINAL HIDEOUT, HAVING JUST RETURNED FROM HER LATEST HEIST…
“Batmane?”
The old warehouse was dark as a grave, its silence oppressive as a shroud woven by orphaned widow spiders and worn by a weeping angel. Conundrum went her way carefully through the shadows, placing her newest treasure in its place on her shelf of ill-gotten gains. The black-on-orange sign proudly announced its mistress’ latest conquest: PRICELESS PINK PANTHER DIAMOND.
“Baaatmaaane… hellooooooo…” She half-sang into the darkness. “Are you still here? You didn’t really die from ice cream, did you? No you didn’t. Did you? I mean, that’d be just silly, right?”
Silence.
Conundrum swallowed, laughed a little nervously. “Ha, ha… I mean, I know lots of silly things happen in life. In fact, most of my life has been just silly things happening… all the time…” Her voice trailed off, her last words scarcely more than a whisper, “Yep, just one silly thing after another…”
Silence. Then, a burst of thunder, its accompanying lightning blazing through the occasional cracks in the damaged windows.
Uncertainly, the Mistress of Mystery crept towards her vaunted Room of Refreshments. The moon was lower now, partially illuminating the room with a single shaft of pale light through a boarded-up in the wall to her right. Then lightning flashed again, its uneven staccato of electric photons giving a kind of unlife to the objects before her. She saw her terrible machine at rest, its ICE CREAM DEATH SUNDAE MIXER DEVICE label clearly visible under its empty aperture. The silvery ray landed perfectly on the orange sign like the hoof of a ghost, almost as if to mock her. Below it, the pit trap where she had left Batmane hours ago, dark and still as a tomb.
The only sound was the steady drip, drip, drip of molten ice cream falling from the device’s aperture into the saturnine pit below.
The sinister smell of dairy and pistachios was suffocating.
“Batmane?” she whispered into the pit, even as the thought occurred to her, Wait, didn’t I leave the lights on when I left--?
“Oof!”
The weight fell on her shoulders like a blind roofer made of meteoric iron. The floor rushed up and struck her across the barrel, her face hanging over the pit.
“You may as well give up, Conundrum!”
Even with her ribs savagely compressed by the Dark Knight’s superior weight, Conundrum managed a weak, “Yayyyyy…”
“You’re coming with me!” The raspy growl was commanding, even without the massive athlete pinning her down with an expertise honed by years of agonizing training.
“Ha!” she exclaimed, her defiance rejuvenated. “No mere mortal can confound the awe-inspiringly amazing agility of Conundrum! Mmmf! Mmmf!” The Duchess of Dastardly Deeds struggled against the Caped Crusader’s herculean strength. “You can’t defeat me, Batmane! Mmmf! Say,” a sudden suspicion dawned on her. “Have you put on weight? How did you escape my deathtrap, anyway?”
“None of your… uuurrrrrrp… business, criminal!” the Batmane responded, cuffing the Mistress of Mayhem with expert ease. Inwardly, he groaned. If he never had to eat another scoop of pistachio chip as long as he lived…
“Ha! You fool! Mere hoofcuffs will never—”
“Bat cuffs.”
“Right, bat cuffs, sorry. Mere bat cuffs will never constrain the cantankerous Conundrum!” She tugged several more times as the Caped Crusader spun her on the ground, maintaining control of his erstwhile foe. “Mmmf! Mmmf!” She blinked, staring at the restraints on her forelegs as he administered another set to her hind hooves despite her struggles. “Wow, these are on really good.”
He looked at her, one eyebrow cocked. “Cantankerous?”
She shrugged, good-naturedly.
He peered at her. “Is this all just some game to you?”
She grinned. “Yup!”
He snorted. “We’ll see if it’s still a game when your secret identity is exposed to the world,” he growled, “the consequences of your foul misdeeds crashing down on you, ultimately sending you to jail.”
“My… secret identity?” The arch-criminal’s eyes widened, her voice growing small. “You’re going to expose my… secret… identity?”
“It’s a small punishment in scope of the crimes you’ve committed, you scoundrel!”
She stared at him a moment longer. Then, she burst out laughing.
After several moments, an uncertain Batmane asked, “Uh… why are you laughing?”
“You’re… you’re…” she finally managed to control her laughter long enough to burst out, “You’re the Nark Knight!”
He stared. “What?”
“You’re the Nark Knight!” she giggled. “Ooooo, look out, it’s the Nark Knight! Be good or he’ll tell on you…!”
“I think you’re missing the point, here.”
She managed to look at him for a moment, her mirth barely contained. Then she burst into laughter again, falling before the Shadow Sleuth in helpless hilarity.
He sighed. “Fine. Let’s go, Conundrum.”
A giggle. “Nark Knight!”
“Whatever.”
With his adversary captured at last, Batmane climbed out the window through which he had first entered. As the rain began to fall, he swung into the night, the droplets pelting them both like arrows fired from the very soul of the night itself. Such gravitas, however, was painfully lost upon the Arch Duchess of Anarchy.
“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee…”
After several minutes of high-rise giggling, Batmane frowned at her in mid-swing. “Seriously?”
“Oh, c’mon, lighten up, Batmane! Where’s your sense of humor?”
“There was nothing humorous about any of this, Conundrum. You’re a villain. You’ve broken and entered into a public facility, stolen priceless jewels.” He snarled, teeth bared, as he fired the next grapnel. “And that’s not even to mention how many innocent children you’ve doubtless deprived of their birthday treats for the next several weeks, just to fuel your diabolical murder machine! Shame on you, Conundrum! Shame on you! You heartless, lawless… criminal—”
“What?!? How can you even think that?!”
She was so genuinely outraged that the Guardian of Canterlot was taken aback. Something wasn’t right here. Landing on a nearby roof, he put her on her hooves, examining her with the expertise only possible for the world’s greatest detective. The cascade continued to fall, her colors slowly beginning to shift beneath its torrent. Frowning, Batmane swiped some off her coat, and tasted it.
“Just as I suspected!” he exclaimed. “Instant gelatin!” Then he peered at her through the rain, his features betraying surprise. “It appears I owe you an apology, Conundrum,” he acknowledged. “I know now there was no ice cream theft. The deadly collection of confection you concocted was entirely your own collection.”
“Of course!” Pinkie Pie grinned. The green and purple dyes were vanishing swiftly, revealing her own shades of pink beneath. She posed in the moonlight. “You like? It’s loads better than hair dye! Easy to buy, easy to put on, easy to wash out… not to mention it’s better tasting. Yum!” She licked some off her own shoulder, then giggled. “I know, the fanfics just write themselves, don’t they?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Anyway, we going to jail?” She perked up again. “‘Cuz I’ve never escaped from a jail before. Magical prisons and mind traps, sure, but never a regular old jail.” She bounced slightly in anticipation, despite all four hooves being cuffed. “This’ll be fun!”
“No,” he growled. “No jails. You’re quite right, they wouldn’t be able to hold you anyway.”
She gasped with delight. “You’re letting me go?” she smiled, sniffling slightly as she wiped away a heartfelt tear. “Aw, Narkie. I knew you were okay.”
“I’m not letting you go.” He threw her over his shoulder again, firing off another grapnel.
“Huh? But you said—”
“No one is above the law. Not even an Element of Harmony,” he growled as he ascended to a higher roof. “Especially an Element of Harmony.” As Batmane leaped down, his cape expanded out like the wings of a blood drinking god, the two of them gliding through the darkness as silent as a demon’s prayer.
At first, Pinkie Pie looked around them both in rapt curiosity, enjoying the novelty of her experiences. Then, slowly, it dawned on her where they were truly headed. True horror began to take root within her soul like a dandelion spawned in Tartarus, as her pleas and cries began in earnest…
CAN IT BE?
IS THE STORY OF THE SHADOW SLEUTH FINALLY TAKING A DARKER TURN??
WHAT TORMENTS COULD POSSIBLY HOLD ONE SUCH AS PINKIE PIE IN SUCH TERROR???
WHAT BIZARRE AND UNSPEAKABLE FATE AWAITS THE LIVING EMBODIMENT OF THE ELEMENT OF LAUGHTER????
LATER THAT MORNING, AT THE STATELY BLUEBLOOD PALACE APARTMENTS…
“I trust all was resolved in a satisfactory fashion last night, suh?”
“Absolutely, Pennyworth,” the younger unicorn nodded, accepting his cereal bowl. Putting it to the side, he next took the plate of eggs and toast from Pennyworth’s hoof. Cereal was best eaten last, after it had time to change the color of the milk.
As Pennyworth continued to serve his master breakfast, the headline of the paper Blueblood had been reading was plain for him to see:
PARTY PLANNER AND ELEMENT BEARER REVEALED AS CONUNDRUM!
Princesses Give Pinkie Pie Six Months’ Community Service and Stern Talking-To
“I must say, for all the havoc she wrought, such a penalty seems rather lackluster,” the butler observed. “Even bearing in mind her past services to Equestria, one would expect such a rash of thefts to be punishable by some imprisonment, at least.”
“That’s because you’ve never gotten it from Aunt Celestia,” Blueblood growled. “I have. And for all that it’s been years, I’d never want to go through it again. I can only imagine what it must be like when there’s two of them.”
He shook his head, genuinely feeling pity for the poor pink mare. He remembered her giggling at first, between word plays on his name and the novel prospects of a jail break. But her demeanor had changed when she’d realized he had not been carrying her to a jail, but to the palace itself.
You’re one of the Elements, he had told her. A symbol of hope for ponies everywhere. You have a higher responsibility. That means you don’t get to deal with normal courts. You answer… to a higher authority.
That had been when her chatter had gotten frantic. It had started out in fun, she had insisted. She didn’t mean to hurt anypony. She’d just gotten carried away. Even as they had approached the palace rooftops, Conundrum’s – no, Pinkie Pie’s – eyes had gotten bigger and bigger as she had agonized out loud over what the princesses and her fellow Elements might say, how disappointed they would be in her.
By the time they had reached the Night Princess’ balcony, the pink mare had worked herself into a true frenzy. Aunt Luna had barely had time to give a startled What in the world? before the penitent Pinkie Pie had literally thrown herself at the monarch’s hooves in a leap worthy of a parkour master athlete. She’d sobbed and wailed, oversized tears of remorse spraying everywhere, dejectedly begging for forgiveness at the top of her voice, promising something about flying and cupcakes to never do it again. Batmane had taken his cue and silently departed into the night, leaving a concerned and rather bewildered princess to deal with Ms. Pie’s confession and rehabilitation.
“Trust me, we’re not going to have any more problems from Conundrum for a long time,” he said, allowing himself a slight smile. “Probably not ever.”
The butler bowed. “You know best, of course, suh.”
The smile faded. “Thank you, Pennyworth, but I can’t make that claim. I don’t know that anypony can. I only do what I can, with what I have. There are very few ponies who can do what I do. That gives me a responsibility, old friend. A responsibility to use my resources and abilities to help those who cannot help themselves. And should Conundrum return, should any evil arise to threaten the good people of Equestria…”
“You’ll be there, suh.”
“Yes, Pennyworth. Batmane will be there.” The unicorn stood, the very picture of nobility. “Whenever the innocent are in peril, whenever there is tyranny and crime. Whenever the good people of Equestria suffer, and their hearts cry out… for justice!” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “Unless, of course, the Mane Six are already handling it.”
Pennyworth blinked. “Ah. Well, yes, I suppose so…”
“Or the princesses,” the Shadow Sleuth mused.
“Yesssss,” the servant agreed, becoming less certain by the moment. “Yes, good point Master Blue, your aunts are quite capable, I’m sure…”
“Or the police, of course,” Batmane contemplated.
“Yes,” agreed Pennyworth, now feeling completely bewildered. “Yes, of course one should never discount… the police…”
“Or the Royal Guard, for that matter,” Blueblood acknowledged.
“True, though the Royal Guard are most effective regarding palace-related security, suh…”
“You know, as I think of it, Batmane is really more of a local phenomenon anyway,” the Caped Crusader growled. “It’s not like I travel to the far reaches of Equestria that often. I’m kind of a homebody, really.”
“Er, yes… you do seem to focus your efforts primarily upon Canterlot, suh…”
Then, with sudden energy, Blueblood exclaimed, “But there are some threats that exist only in the shadows, Pennyworth, preying on good ponies away from the light! Those who the normal arm of the law cannot reach, whose prowess eludes common capture, and yet who lie unnoticed in the shadows. Foul serpents poisoning our garden of pony delights with their criminal venom, always poised to strike the unwary. And when that happens…”
“Then you’ll be there, suh,” the butler smiled through his prim, white mustache.
“Yes, old friend. Then I’ll be there!” The Dark Knight’s eyes narrowed, looking away in stoic determination. “Batmane will always be there.”
Pennyworth contentedly stirred his master’s cereal, making the milk a nice chocolate color. “As it should be, suh.” he said.
MEANWHILE, IN THE SEEMINGLY ORDINARY CLOTHING SHOP OF PONYVILLE’S LEADING FASHIONISTA…
Rarity sighed as she turned the page of her favorite newspaper, shaking her head with sympathy. “Poor Pinkie Pie,” she said. “It does sober one, to think that even she could fall so low. Honestly,” she sighed. “Using dessert mix as a disguise. How utterly gauche.”
She reached down and placed another morsel from her plate into Opal’s bowl. After a brief pause, the feline condescended to devour.
“And for all that I love her dearly, it must be recognized that she brought this upon herself,” she continued. Rarity bequeathed the absent mare a condescending smile and continued, “Still, I must confess: the idea of being so chastised by the princesses themselves is a terrifying prospect. It’s almost enough to prompt one to go straight.”
The white cat looked up from its meal to glare at her, hissing.
“Now, now, Opal my dear. I did say almost.” Daintily dabbing the remnants of her meal with a soft napkin, the elegant mare rose from her breakfast table. “Sweetie Belle is back in town tomorrow, so the window of ideal activity has nearly closed. But I did feel it only ladylike to let Pinkie try for the pink panther first. She’d already staked out the museum, after all. Still, in the end, I knew her efforts were doomed. After all, parties and pranks are her idiom unexcelled. But when it comes to priceless jewels, one might say she was out of her… element.”
Pressing a secret switch under her vanity, Rarity observed the section of the wall slowly revolve. It revealed a black leather outfit, perfectly tailored to enhance her figure while avoiding any uncouth embellishments. Beside it hung gilded belt and claws, a stylized mask with feline ear sheaths, and several whips. She considered the ensemble before her carefully, then regretfully shook her head.
“No, no, this just won’t do. Leather is so last season, after all.” She sighed, closing the secret wardrobe again. “I suppose the gem exhibit will just have to wait. Such things must be done properly, after all.” She glanced over at her work room with some irritation. “And I’m backed up with clients as it is, plus having to work around Sweetie Belle.
“Still, I’m sure I’ll think of something. Not to mention that my dear sister has been spending so much time with her cutie-mark seeking friends of late. Their regular sleep-overs should give me plenty of opportunities for my latest tenue de crime. Something regal, I should think, befitting a queen of the night.”
She stroked the white longhair that was rubbing itself against her legs, smiling again. “And for all that pink has never been my colour, it remains that diamonds are a lady’s best friend.” Her eyes narrowed. “And so it’s only fitting that the pink panther diamond should belong… to Feline Fatale!”
The sinister villainess laughed, joined by the yowls of her feline familiar. For now, the morning sun’s rays gave warmth and light to all of Equestria. But night would fall soon enough…
WHAT’S THIS?
IS THE GORGEOUS GARB-DESIGNING GAL OF THE GRAND GALLOPING GALA ALSO MORE THAN SHE PRETENDED??
IS THE PRESTIGIOUS PINK PANTHER PREDESTINED TO BE PERFECTLY PURLOINED, DESPITE THE PERILS PREVIOUSLY PROTAGONIZED BY BATMANE???
WILL THE STRANGE IRONY THAT EXISTS BETWEEN THE MASK-WEARING PONIES OF PONYVILLE AND CANTERLOT UNFOLD EXACTLY AS MIGHT BE EXPECTED????
