... with a not so innocent answer.
Shining Armor did not want to be here. He didn't want to be waiting in the Captain's office for him to show up, didn't want to still be working when his shift had ended almost a half hour ago, and most certainly didn't want to be dealing with some suspect. He just wanted to go home, eat his mom's amazing cooking, and go to bed.
But, he'd chosen this line of work. Ever since he was a foal, he'd been enamored with the idea of the Royal Guard. Protecting ponies and making them feel safe called to him in a way nothing else ever had, or ever would again. So, despite not wanting to be there, he would suffer in silence.
Still, he thought to himself, fidgeting in place, the Captain could've at least let me change out of my armour...
Normally he wouldn't be so open about his discomfort with his armour, usually not even bothered by it. However, he'd been going through a bit of a growth-spurt again over the past few months, and his armour was beginning to press in a few places he'd rather it didn't.
Not to mention, the thought of him still growing was a tad embarrassing as well. He was twenty-eight-years-old and still growing like a weed! He supposed his mom's cooking was a bit to blame for that, combined with his regular exercise. The two combined seemed determined to make up for his lanky, stunted years as a teen. A phase his younger sister, Twilight, was beginning to go through, much to his amusement.
The door behind him suddenly burst open, and the old form of Captain Strong Hoof stamped into the room.
Shining Armor always felt a tad intimidated around the almost sixty-year-old earth stallion. He was utterly massive, standing almost a head taller than himself-making him tall enough to nearly look Princess Celestia in the eye-with large, broad shoulders, and enough muscle to send a bodybuilder running. Combined with his faded blue coat, equally faded white mane, and still stern silver eyes, he looked every bit the hardened war veteran.
Thankfully, despite his rough exterior, Strong Hoof was a kind, honest stallion, if a bit of a hard-ass.
"Armor," the Captain greeted, the deep baritone of his voice rumbled like an avalanche,
"Captain Hoof," Shining responded, immediately at attention, "Is everything well, sir?"
"The prisoner is astonishingly compliant," he replied, moving over to his desk, his every hoof-fall like rumbling thunder, "If I didn't know any better, I'd believe him to be just some witness. That's why I have you here," he added, rifling through some papers.
"Sir?" Shining asked, hoping he'd clarify. Thankfully, the Captain seemed to understand,
"You still need experience before you're to take over my position," he said, leveling a firm, but not harsh, glare at him, "You might have the skill and the field experience to take over in two years, but you're sorely lacking in experience handling interrogations and processing. For that reason, you'll be sitting in on the former, and handling the latter," he added, hoofing Shining a folder.
Shining stiffened, even as he automatically took the offered folder.
Him!? Sit in on an interrogation?! That was insane! He'd wasn't a detective, or an interrogator! Why would he need to know this?! He'd never heard of the Captain doing anything of the sort!
"You won't actually be in the room with the suspect," the Captain said, as if aware of Shining's thoughts, "you'll be on the other side of the one-way-mirror, watching. I myself have never joined in on one, but you have to know how they work, how they look, and whether or not to send for a better interrogator. Thankfully, we've already got a pretty good one, so you won't have to worry about that last one, much."
Almost immediately, Shining felt himself relax, something that the Captain noticed as well, if the quirking of his brow meant anything.
"C'mon Armor," the Captain said, brushing passed him and out the door, "the interrogation is starting in a few minutes."
"Er-y-yes, sir."
Shining, finally out of his armour, fidgeted slightly in the semi-cold room.
The room was nice enough, a clean tiled floor, a nice brown desk right behind him, and even a coffee maker off to the side. It wouldn't be his favourite room, but it was much nicer than the room on the other side of the window.
Smooth, dark gray walls, with an equally smooth and dark gray floor, completely bare of any decoration or mark to distinguish one wall from another. A table of similar style and appearance bolted to the center of the room. Three empty chairs were present at the table, two facing away from the mirror and one on the other side facing them.
Just looking at it made Shining uncomfortable, which, considering that it was the interrogation room, was a good thing.
To be uncomfortable and not even in it spoke of the effect it should have on the suspect.
Speaking of...
"Nervous?" a female voice asked from beside him. Shining jumped in alarm, and whirled to face the now-snickering mare.
She had a bright cherry coat and a coffee brown mane and tail, the former hidden under a darker brown fedora. Her twinkling green eyes stared at him, her mirth not hidden in the slightest. The wrinkles on her face spoke of her age, which Shining pegged as being either in her late forties or early fifties.
"Hehe, sorry 'bout scarin' ya, kiddo," she said, her voice rasping slightly, before her smirk fell and she regarded him critically, "So, you're the colt fittin' to take over after Strong's stubborn ass finally retires?" she asked. Shining blinked,
"Uh-er... y-yeah?" he stammered, straightening himself.
"Yeesh, colt, calm down!" she said, laughing at him, "You look higher strung than a snapped bow!" she added, smirking, "So, this your first time sittin' in on one o' these?" she asked.
"It is, miss...?" he asked leadingly.
"Name's Silver Tongue, hun. I'll be the one doin' the interrogatin'," she introduced herself with a tip of the hat. Shining nodded,
"Right, uh, nice to meet you, Miss Silver," he greeted, momentarily falling back on his mom's old 'politeness lessons'. Silver Tongue shook her head,
"How ya feelin' 'bout sittin' in on this?" she asked him. He paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly,
"Well... Nervous, to be honest. I've-well, I've never done something like this," he said, glancing back into the interrogation room, "I-I don't even know what crime the suspect is... well, suspected of," he admitted. Silver's brow rose,
"Haven't ya read the folder?" she asked. Shining blinked, then groaned slightly, glancing back over at the folder the Captain had given him, which he'd placed on the desk upon entering the room. He knew he'd forgotten something.
"Right... I should do that..." he muttered, levitating it over to him.
As he was doing so, the door opened, revealing the Captain,
"It's time, Tongue," he said gruffly, "The suspect's on his way." Silver tipped her hat to Shining once more,
"Wish me luck, hun," she said with a smile, before her expression suddenly hardened. She spun around right after and followed the Captain out.
Shining shuddered slightly, that brief moment where he'd seen her expression having been downright chilling.
He shook his head and turned back to the folder in his hooves. He flipped it open and was met with a picture of a unicorn stallion smiling up at him. His jet black mane and tail were cut and coiffed into a proper looking mid-fade, with more than a few gray hairs poking through the black. His white coat was pristine and neat looking, its splendor making his own seem dirty in comparison. Bright purple eyes peered back at him earnestly from behind a pair of thick, square glasses, reminding him faintly of Twilight.
Shining was, for a moment, struck dumb, his eyes roving over the file.
The stallion in question, whose name appeared to be Inked Quill, was a gentle looking sort. He had the look of somepony who'd break down crying at the thought of stealing candy, yet he'd been brought in for suspected-murder!?
His eyes bulged slightly at the listed crime. Or, rather, crimes.
According to the folder, there had been a recent string of murders around Trottingham, moving towards, and slightly over, the Equestrian-Griffon border, where the suspect had been located and detained for lacking a passport. He was moved over to Canterlot for identification and processing, when he'd mentioned being in the areas where the murders were located. That led to some investigation, and a witness reported seeing the suspect following a victim an hour before one of the murders was reported.
According to the file, after graduating from a local private school, Inked Quill became a murder mystery novelist whose work was actually quite well known and well received. His work became famous due to the logical and effective methods the protagonist, a private investigator named Jaded Day, took to discover the culprit, uncovering large conspiracy schemes, power struggles, and secrets hidden in ancient history in the process.
The Mystery of Murder series was just as popular as the Daring Do series, and was likely to overtake A.K. Yearling's work within the next year or so if she didn't publish anything soon. He should know, since Twilight was a huge fan of both and had actually gotten a few of her copies of the various Mystery of Murder books signed by the author himself.
At the age of twenty-six, he was married to a nice mare, Warm Fields, who worked on a local farm with her family. Three years after their marriage, they were blessed with two foals, a filly and a colt, who moved away after graduating the same school their father attended the previous year. He turned forty-eight a month ago.
According to ponies who lived nearby, Inked Quill was a polite, well-liked stallion. His reputation in town was virtually perfect, even! He was often seen heading down to a local orphanage, reading stories-not his own-to the youngest foals and tutoring some of the older ones. He often donated to charity with his not-inconsiderable wealth, and was known as a loving and doting father, and a loyal husband.
His health records were less impeccable, however. A case of bronchitis when he was younger, some broken bones during his school years, and a momentary period in which he was found smoking pot.
Apart from that, he was completely clean. He didn't drink, smoke, or do any drugs anymore. He rarely got sick, and was injured even less often. He wasn't diagnosed with any disorders, mental issues, or anything of the like.
All in all, it was a profile in which there was no evidence, whatsoever, that would lead to him committing murder. No hint of mental instability, no violent tendencies, nothing!
The only thing suspicious about his character, if it could even be called suspicious, was how normal he was.
It was... strange.
The interrogation room's door opened, and in came the form of the very pony whose report he was reading, followed by Silver Tongue.
He didn't look much different than his picture. His mane was a little bit longer and a tad messier, sure, but that was about the only difference. But Shining did notice some details that the picture didn't give him. Inked Quill was a bit short for a stallion his age, he bore several pronounced wrinkles on his face, mostly around the mouth and eyes, that hinted at a life filled with smiling and laughing, and walked with a slight limp.
All in all, he didn't look the part of an unhinged murderer, unlike what the report would suggest.
"Take a seat, Mr. Quill," Silver Tongue said brightly, sitting down with a plop. Inked smiled at her, and did just that,
"I take it that you can tell me why I'm here?" Inked asked, his voice like a spring breeze, "Is it about my lacking a passport? I apologize if so, I really shouldn't have forgotten it," he added casually, looking honestly apologetic. Silver Tongue shook her head,
"It's fine, there's nothin' ya've gotta worry 'bout jus' yet," she said with a smile, then tilted her head, "So, what made ya head out ta Griffonstone, anyhow?"
"I'm working on my next book, you see," he began eagerly, nodding along with his words, "I plan on having it take place in Griffonstone, and I was heading there to get a proper lay of the land to avoid any mistakes with the setting," he explained. Silver Tongue nodded,
"Makes sense. I've read'a couple'a your books. Gotta say, they're quite nice," she complimented, earning a bright smile from the stallion, "Say, what gotcha interested in writin' in the firs' place?" she asked.
Inked Quill blinked at the question.
"Huh, no one's ever asked me that before," he admitted as his eyes darted to the right and he placed a hoof on his chin, "Hmm... there are a number of things that lead to my interest in writing," he began, "but I believe what truly set me towards that path was my grandfather," he said.
"And why's that?"
"Well, he worked the graveyard shift as a janitor over at the castle here in Canterlot," he said, his hooves waving slightly in the air as he told his story, "He would always tell me stories about hearing sounds and hoofsteps while he worked. Of times where he got so frightened by what he thought were ghosts that he ended up making a mess he had to clean up!" he said, giggling at the memory, "I thought it was the most interesting thing in the world!" he then gushed, his hooves clapping together, "I always asked him why he thought that, and he could never give me a straight answer. It got me interested in how he thought, which eventually evolved into wondering how everyone thought. It got me interested in psychology, which I majored in at Trottingham University."
"So, your interest in psychology got ya interested in makin' novels?" Silver asked. Inked nodded, his hooves resting against the smooth table,
"That's right! I was very interested in how the mind worked, in how it connected events, and made us want to do things. I studied criminology for a time as well, since I developed a curiosity over why criminals did what they did, and spent a few months learning under a private investigator. I learned about how they worked to solve crimes and used psychological tactics to gather evidence, and it gave me the idea to write about it," he said, then frowned slightly, his head tilting to the left, "The stallion I worked under didn't like the idea of putting their methods out there at the time, so I decided not to write about it, and I forgot about it completely. I worked in a few other agencies and law firms for a bit, but nothing ever interested me as much as their investigative work did. One day, out of the blue, I started writing down my thoughts, and before I knew it, I had the first draft of a novel on my hooves!" he gushed.
"Ya started writin' novels jus' like that?" Silver asked, earning a nod from Inked,
"Yep! My interest in psychology, and criminal investigation, sparked a small idea, and I wrote it down. I honestly didn't intend to publish it, but my grandfather convinced me to 'At least give it a shot!'," he said, pumping his hoof while lowering his voice a few octaves in a poor imitation of what his grandfather's voice must've been.
Silver nodded, producing a folder from under her wing and giving it a once over.
The act prompted Shining to do the same. Glancing back down at the file and, after hesitating for only a moment, he flipped the page.
His entire being froze in place, every muscle tensing as fear shot through his brain. His eyes dilated, and his heart started pounding. Hooves shaking, he opened his mouth to scream-
-only for a familiar blue hoof to cover it before he could make a sound.
His eyes flickered to the right, where the Captain-who'd somehow entered the room without making a sound-stood. His gaze, which had already been old, seemed to age a further ten years as he gazed down at the numerous photos attached to the page he'd turned to.
Shining managed to close his mouth, prompting the Captain to let go, and his gaze returned to the horror show below.
The first photo, taken in Trottingham, depicted a normal looking unicorn mare with a yellow coat and blue mane and tail.
Or she would've been normal, if there wasn't a hole in her stomach.
She was laying, propped against a wall, with a massive, gaping hole had been torn out of her stomach. Her left eye was dead and glazed over, while the right was stabbed clean through by the remnants of a horn. Blood and intestines spilled out onto the ground below, staining her once bright coat red. The light from the camera glistened over the red and pink flesh. Her intestines, pink and puffy, were stretched across the ground, wrapping around her legs, with one of them pulled up and shoved through her open mouth, where he could see it re-enter her body, hanging just in sight from the hole. Her stomach was taken, plopped onto the ground in front of her, its juices spilling out onto the ground around it, painting the ground a disgusting brown. He could see her spine through the hole, its perfectly white complexion contrasting with the dark reds painting the scene. Some of the flesh around her legs had been ripped away, flaking the ground and revealing muscle and bone. There was a strange splatter and pile of flesh near the stomach, which Shining vaguely recognized as the remains of a heart.
Next to it was another picture, of an earth stallion this time. His head had been crushed, the flesh and bone giving way to some unknown force. From his body, a streak of pink, red, and gray splattered across the ground. His eyes had been ripped from his skull, the sockets surrounded by torn fur and skin, though they still remained connected by strands of nerves. Teeth littered the ground around the head, surrounded a chunk of flesh that Shining was sure used to be a tongue. Looking down the body, he could see that the stallion's left leg was pointing in the exact opposite direction it was supposed to, and the right leg was partially missing, leaving only a stump of bone surrounded by torn flesh and puddles of blood. There was a strange divot in the stallion's back, suggesting that something had caved in his spine, likely the same thing that crushed his skull. His lower body was mostly untouched, until one noticed the white liquid leaking onto the ground, mostly hidden by his tail.
There were other pictures, but Shining could hardly stomach to look at them.
"So, your stories are all 'bout ponies committin' foul murders, with some P.I. stumblin' across these cases, solvin' 'em, an' bringing the killer ta justice, that right?" Silver asked. Inked nodded,
"Yes, why?"
"Have you ever thought about killing anyone?"
Shining sucked in a breath at the sudden question, his heart-rate picking up once more.
That was-that was crazy! He-he'd read the stallion's file! There was just no way that somepony as well-liked as him could have possibly committed the atrocities he saw before him.
"Yes."
Shining was pretty sure his heart stopped beating. Even Silver looked astonished at the easy admittance, though she schooled herself quickly.
"You have?" she asked, Inked only shrugged,
"Of course. My interest in criminology evolved from me wondering why criminals acted as they had. Murder is one of the crimes that interested me the most. Besides, who hasn't?" he asked in return, tilting his head, "An annoying coworker, some jerk who said foul things to you, a thief. Who hasn't thought about just attacking one of these individuals, or anything that can be perceived as a threat, if only in passing?" he continued, his eyes drifting to the right, "Who hasn't thought about breaking them apart or beating them down at least once? If only to get them to shut up."
"That's-" Silver spoke, only to be interrupted,
"Of course, no one ever means it," Inked said waving off his previous words, "It's always in our heads, just a tiny, little thought. It's an instant of intense aggression that almost never lasts more than a fraction of a moment. Isn't it strange how our brains automatically move to a violent response over something so utterly insignificant?" he asked, smirking slightly, "It is fascinating, don't you think?"
"I... suppose," Silver agreed hesitantly. Inked smiled, and nodded,
"Exactly! You said you've read my books, right?" he asked, earning a nod from Silver, "If so, then you know that most of the murders are done 'in the moment', with little prior preparation or motivation. It is actions taken after that turn it into a mystery. The culprit hiding the body in the forest, tossing it down a stream, stuffing it into a food locker, that kind of thing. There are a few that involve a plan that spans years, but those are born from much larger motivations, of course, and those are always the big ones," he said.
"Right," Silver said, straightening in her chair, "an interesting choice of writing. Is there any reason you made it like that?" she asked.
"It has always interested me," Inked said, seemingly not listening, "that such things, big or small, could warrant a response such as murder," he said, as if savouring the way the word rolled off his tongue, "The act of taking a life, of spilling blood, of choosing to kill... what about it makes it such a tantalizing option?" he asked, staring straight at Silver. Silver scowled,
"What makes you think that?" she asked.
"Well, for starters, my work is very popular in Equestria, despite holding such a... dark tone. Why, compared to other popular works such as A.K. Yearling's, Love Bug's, or Starry Night's novels, my work is positively evil. What is it about death that attracts so many ponies at once?" he asked, "What is it about murder and death that make them swirl about our heads so often?"
"So you're interested in the concept of murder," Silver noted, "It sticks in your head, and you can't get rid of it, no matter how hard you try," she said leadingly, causing Inked to nod, "Sometimes the idea of killing somepony just gets too strong and you give into the idea," she added. At this, Inked nodded,
"Of course. Writing about it so often makes me even more curious. I know all the motivations, all the reasoning behind the murder. I know all the little connections, thoughts, and feelings running through their heads at the moment before, during, and after the kill," he said, smiling softly, until it fell abruptly, "But... their reactions are based on my own perceptions. On mine and the world as we know it. It haunts me, sometimes. I can't help but wonder... Am I doing it right? Are their reactions well and truly what they should be?"
"Is that so?"
"Yes!" Inked snapped, suddenly in a frenzy, "Do they truly feel shocked at the feel of the knife cutting flesh? Do they truly feel disgust at the act of snapping bones? Do they truly regret ending a life?!" he snarled, his once gentle features twisting into a parody of what they once were, "How can I know?! How can I possibly write a good story if I can't understand?!"
"So you started committing murders," Silver stated.
"Yes!" Inked chirped, smiling, "Of course I did! I had to know, after all! Does one truly feel horror and disgust at their own actions? Does one feel shame after the fact?" his smile twisted, his once bright purple eyes darkening, "Or do they enjoy the act? The feeling of utter power it gives them, that moment just before the light leaves their eyes... The victim's screams of terror, of pain... All that strength, all that power... It got me wondering..." he trailed off, his eyes locking onto Silver's, his grin threatening to split his face,
"What does killing actually feel like?"
Shining let out a shuddering breath, his chest feeling painfully tight. He felt sick just listening to this.
That... that... what kind of question was that?!
The thought revolved around his head like a coming storm. Killing was one of the worst crimes imaginable in Equestria, but it was also one of the rarer ones. Theft, mugging, and drug trafficking were the most common crimes in Equestria, and even then they weren't common!
"I had to know, I just had to know!" Inked continued, still smiling, "I found the perfect subject as well! She was just like the victim in my first book, you see! Bright yellow coat, blue mane, why, she was a dead ringer! I felt it was only appropriate that she died just like in that book!" he gushed, sounding quite proud of himself, "First, I beat her unconscious, don't want her screaming after all! I took a knife and cut her stomach right up! I was surprised at first, there was blood everywhere! But I got passed it and got to work. I tore out her intestines, they were quite warm by the way, and tied her up with the small one. The large one was much too big to use, unfortunately, so I choked her with it," he explained, as though he was talking about the weather, "I tore out her stomach next, but that was only so I could grab her heart," he said, then shuddered, "Ohoho... I'll never forget that feeling. That moment when I first held her still beating heart in my hooves," he gushed, placing his hooves against his cheeks, "I can't tell you how wonderful that felt... I can't describe the utter pleasure that coursed through me when I crushed it!" he snarled, grinning toothily, "I had to do it again after that! And again, and again, and again!" he chuckled, "I even took some time to have a little fun with the corpses afterwards, though it's not quite as fun as a living partner," he admitted, tilting his head in thought, "But it is definitely something I know one or two of my characters would enjoy."
Shining Armor, frankly, had had enough by now, dropping the folder and rushing towards the nearest trash can. The Captain didn't say anything, but the twisting of his own face gave way to his own disgust.
Shining retched, hooves clasping onto the trash can's lid with more strength than necessary. The smell of vomit soon permeated the room.
Captain Strong Hoof, completely ignoring the younger male, plucked the folder from the ground and idly flipped through it.
The suspect wasn't kidding. He really had kept going and going and going.
Pictures of corpses with shattered limbs, missing organs, and ripped flesh grew more and more violent.
A griffon who had his eyes punctured with the stumps of his own wings.
A mare whose head had been torn off-not cut, torn-and shoved into a gaping hole in her stomach.
A stallion whose genitals and been cut off and shoved down his throat, and several limbs stuffed up the ass.
A pair of foals who'd been brutally torn apart and poorly stitched back together with no regard for what pieces belonged where or to who.
A mother and foal pair who both been gutted, with the foal being stuffed back in the mother's womb, while the foal's organs were shoved down the mother's throat.
There was even one case where a zebra had been chopped into little pieces and scattered around a park. Not every piece had been found yet either.
It was a disgusting display of insanity, one that was much worse than he'd anticipated.
His gaze drifted back on to his junior, whose retching had yet to subside.
He'd have to give the poor colt some time off to deal with this. And maybe some therapy.
Shining felt dirty. Gross. Utterly filthy.
The interrogation hadn't lasted long after that, hardly even a few minutes longer. Ink-that bastard, was cuffed and hauled off to prison without a second word from Silver, or a first one from either of the guards taking him.
Shining honestly felt guilty that the two guards in question, Autumn Sun and Shimmering Mist, had to touch such a... foul individual.
Yet, the feeling of disgust within him only worsened when that bastard got one last question in, right before the door slammed shut.
"Could you tell my family I'm sorry? I never did intend for all this to go so far."
That look on his face! So innocent, so normal! The face of a husband and father who made a mistake and only hoped his family would forgive him!
It was disgusting! How could such a... a... twisted individual make such an expression?!
Was it some sort of mask? A ploy to hide his intentions?
Shining didn't know, and it terrified him.
That stallion had been near him and his family, once! A convention where Twilight had practically dragged them around to get all her favourite books signed. He'd been one of them. He had smiled and joked around with his parents, teased and signed every last thing Twilight had asked him to, all without complaint!
For Faust's sake, the stallion had actually encouraged him to follow his dream to be in the Guard!
Was that all real? Was that smile hiding a violent murderer the whole time? If so, just how close had he and his family come to dying that day?!
At the same time, however, those murders had only started up within the past year, so... so he hadn't been a murderer at the time of the convention.
Still, to think that such a nice, kindly stallion had turned into... into that...
Shining shook his head.
He... he needed to stop thinking about this. He needed to just... let it go, let it slide, and just forget about it.
It was done. It was over. He didn't need to think about it any longer.
Not tonight, at least. Maybe tomorrow when he worked on the papers for the stallion's processing, but, for now... For now, he could head home while he could-he was scheduled to finally move in to the Barracks in a month-eat dinner with his family, and go to bed.
Still, even as he wormed his way down the streets of Canterlot-paying a little more attention to the shadows around him than usual-he couldn't help but wonder...
How was he gonna tell Twilight one of her favourite authors was a criminal?