Echoes of the Past: A Noir Tale

by MrMoonBird

First published

In a city long forgotten by those in power, a detective is tasked with a case unlike one he has ever taken on before. It pays well, which is all that matters to him, but what he doesn't know is it could very well cost him his life.

"They say opportunity comes when you least expect it. I've never been one for believing in that kind of shit myself, but there she was."

Strike - a private detective working out of an old, rundown office building in Detrot - is a simple individual. It doesn't matter what the job entails, if there's money involved, he's interested. Usually, it's small things like catching others having an affair, finding a lost pet, finding a family heirloom; things most people could probably do for themselves but are too lazy to. But that's where she comes in.

Now faced with ghosts from his own past, Strike takes on a case unlike any he's ever seen before. It could very well cost him his life, but at the end of the day, a quick buck is more important, right?

Author's Note: This is a complete rewrite of 'Equestrian Noire: Echoes of the Past'

Author's Note: Contains use of vulgar language

Prologue

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Echoes of the Past

A Noire Tale

Prologue

Detrot. It was probably one of the country’s most notorious cities as far as crime goes. It ran rampant, and was met with little resistance from the ever infamous United Equestrian Police Department, or U.E.P.D. for short. I couldn’t blame them, really; their hooves were practically tied up with all the other cases they had to deal with on a day-to-day basis. Ever since Equestria had changed from a monarchy into a democracy and power was divided amongst the states as opposed to being held by one singular individual, the country had fallen into a state of unprecedented ruin. Those in charge of dividing the power hadn’t known how to properly run the country, and as such, it fell apart as quickly as it had been reformed.

It hadn’t always been this way, however. There was once a time when the country was at peace and everything was all “sunshine and rainbows”, as the old saying goes. A time where each and every pony got along and thrived on the idea that friendship was the answer to all of Life’s problems. But that all ended when an alicorn by the name of Twilight Sparkle, the revered Queen Celestia’s dearest protege, took her place on the throne. At first, things were as smooth as they had ever been; the world was bright and beautiful and members of every race and species got along perfectly fine with each other.

Alas, over time, Lady Sparkle became less and less of the “Princess of Friendship” that she had been known as, and became more and more of a tyrannical dictator. Noone was certain as to the cause of this change, but it was apparent that the power had gone to her head. She declared all races inferior to her original unicorn race and ordered the execution of thousands, no, millions of innocent lives. The unicorns had some sense of pride in being called the “superior race” and carried out this order with swiftness and diligence.

Realizing that the world as they knew it was coming to an abrupt end, the surviving members of the other two races banded together and sought out the assistance of other species in order to overthrow the tyrannical ruler. They formed an army and a great revolutionary war began. It lasted for nearly a century before finally the resisting forces had seized Twilight’s castle and had captured her. By that point, billions of lives had been lost on both sides, and the once beautiful Equestrian landscape was nothing more than a sea of bloodshed and tears. The war was over and the unicorns had surrendered. All that remained was to decide what the punishment for such a heinous crime would be.

The United Equestrian Archives will tell you that Twilight passed peacefully while serving out the rest of her days in a magical cell that nullified both her magic and immortality, but that is far from the truth. What actually happened was far more grotesque and disturbing than a mere natural death. A colosseum had been erected, and she was to be publicly executed, with the execution being broadcast all throughout the country using specialized crystals that displayed real-time footage in order to teach the population what became of those who committed such horrific crimes - these would later be manufactured into televisions, but that is neither here nor there.

On the day of the execution, the colosseum was filled to the brim with onlookers from various races and species of creatures. Not a single cheer was uttered; the entire place was silent. So silent that it was deafening. Twilight was dragged out from a dark tunnel, with heavy weights tied to her wings and a magic nullifying ring placed around her horn, towards the center of the arena where there stood a lone stone pedestal that would serve as her deathbed. She fought and struggled as she inched closer and closer, but her efforts were in vain. Upon reaching the arena’s center, she was aggressively thrown onto the stone slab and was splayed so that her limbs were extended to either side where they were then chained to the pedestal. The weights on her wings were then removed and she, along with the entire populace, were subjected to a long speech listing her crimes against the country followed by her death sentence. Once the speech was over, a large bugbear weilding an oversized sledgehammer lumbered slowly towards the purple alicorn, lifted the hammer above its head, and with a mighty thrust downwards, smashed her horn into pieces.

Her screams echoed off the colosseum walls and she began trying to break free of her bonds. Her wings flapped aggressively as she tried hoisting herself off the slab, but it was no use. Two minotaurs approached her on either side, seized each wing with ease, placed a heavy hoof on her back, and tore the wings - bone and all - from her body. Blood flowed from the fresh, gaping caverns where her enormous wings once nested and she let out a blood-curdling scream before blacking out momentarily from shock. Under normal circumstances, any normal pony would have died at that moment, but that wasn’t the case with her. The chains were then removed from her hooves and a length of rope was fashioned around her neck. She coughed up some blood and her eyes flitted slightly before lulling to the back of her skull once more. Slowly, she was hoisted over the pedestal and stood on the tips of her rear hooves, her head hanging lazily. Then, with a final heave, she was hung in a manner that wouldn’t kill her instantaneously; she would die of asphyxiation, but not before the bugbear took a serrated blade and carved her stomach open just enough so her innards fell out and hung down to her hooves. Blood and a mixture of feces and urine pooled beneath her. She choked for what seemed like hours - both from the rope and the blood clotting in her throat - and with a final gurgle and vomiting of blood, she was declared dead and it was then that the arena erupted in roars and cheers.

It took another half century to establish the new system that would run Equestria. Much debate and thought went into who would become the country’s first “president”, and they did their best to oversee the rebuilding of the country. It ran smoothly with a few kinks here and there, as does anything, for several iterations of presidents until only a few years ago. Fights on how to oversee the country broke out between the three primary races and the entire democracy came crashing down. It was still intact, yes, but now it was the unicorns who held all the power.

They were prideful in their innate ability to cast magic and demanded all rights to rule the country, as they were the most powerful race of the three. The pegasi tried to argue against such a thing, but were quickly shut down, and the earth ponies had little say in the matter; they were the least powerful of the three races after all. As such, tensions between the three races became high, and the country was thrown once more into turmoil. But such is the way of things.

Chapter One - When Opportunity Knocks

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Echoes of the Past

A Noir Tale

Chapter One - When Opportunity Knocks

“Someone very fucking important,” an aged, raspy voice - the result of years of heavy smoking and alcohol consumption - grumbled through the gramophone on my desk, “had better died, Strike.” They ended their statement in a fit of coughs and failed attempts to clear their throat. Naturally, I let their fit pass before telling them why I was calling them in the first place.

“Not quite,” I responded, “but they are certainly going to wish they were once this story breaks through. I’ve got a lot of dirt on them that’ll send their reputation spiraling; shit ranging from bank statements to photographs. It’s not going to be enough, though, which is why I’m calling you. I need a fa-”.

My reply was cut off by another series of coughs and hacks, followed by a very blunt response; one that I had expected from the start of this conversation: “You have some gall asking me for a favor, Strike. We might have been work partners in the past, but those days are behind us and you know it. I’m retired, if you’ve already forgotten. I have no interest in doing some detective work; I just want to live out the rest of my days in peace. That is final. Good-bye, and best of luck in your endeavors.”

With a click followed by the sound of static, mixed with the occasional record skip, my connection was terminated and the gramophone sat dormant once more. I idly lifted the needle from the record and turned the device off. Leaning back in my seat, I let out a deep and heavy sigh, slightly disturbing the dust-covered files that were laid out in front of me. I spun the chair around and gazed through the open blinds of the window to the world below.

Outside the musky office building was a world of neon lights, beggars, bars, clubs, and street vendors. On this particular evening, there was a soft downfall of rain, casting reflections of lights, buildings, and the occasional passerby. It was almost a serene picture; almost, but not quite. Most of the shops had closed for the night, but that never stopped the squatters from hanging around. They usually found a place to hang around, pass a few cigarettes amongst themselves (the occasional drug deal was made as well), and generally didn’t disturb anyone who may happen to pass them. Of course, the local law enforcement still wasn’t fond of their presence; they were seen as a nuisance that brought down the city’s image - not that it had much of an image to begin with. From an outsider’s perspective, Detrot was just a rundown dump waiting to be torn down and refurbished into something more appealing to the eye. There was no saving the city, though. The way I saw it, you could take out the trash as much as you wanted, but then you’d just be left with an empty dumpster.

“Should probably write that one down,” I muttered under my breath. It didn’t appear as if much was going on outside, which was somewhat disappointing; I could have used a little bit of entertainment. I closed the blinds and returned my focus to the case files on my desk. I had been at this one for months, but still wasn’t making enough ground to call it closed. Some shit about some hot shot who was supposedly having an affair, and his wife had come in asking me to affirm her suspicions. It was a less than ideal job, but it was money, and that was something of a scarcity at the moment so I took it with zero complaints. It was basically the same shit every single day: pretty much trail the guy and make note of where he goes throughout the day, take some photos, pull some strings to get his bank statements, and shove it all in a folder until the next day. It was monotonous, and that’s what I hated about it. Every day after the work day was over, he’d high tail it back to who I assume is his secretary’s house, have some “fun”, and would head back home after a few hours. You’d catch glimpses of him and his mistress in the act through the window every now and again, but other than that there was no action worth mentioning. I had debated just giving the lady what dirt I had and leaving it at that, but then there’d be no cash coming in, and the bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I raised my gaze up to the wooden door in front of me with a slight frown. It was the end of the day, well beyond business hours, but there was a shadow on the other side of the frame. Probably some lost soul who wanted help finding their damn cat or something. But it was money.

Letting out a sigh, I called out to the visitor. “Door’s open,” I said in a disinterested tone. What I saw when the door opened took me by surprise, though.