So we sat there giving a makeover to the unknown vigilante who had been prowling Ponyville. Makeovers are not really my thing, but I guess since Rarity got turned into the ocean, somebody had to do it.

There are times that this whole nice guy thing really bums me out.

At any rate, we had the masked and be-caped vigilante sitting in the makeup chair in front of the mirror. Why did we even have that? I would have to ask Sunset.

I pulled the mask off. It was Filthy Rich.

That made a lot of sense, really. Not only was the guy loaded, but his wife and daughter had been killed. He was kind of a reverse Batman.

“Okay, let’s get you fixed up,” I said.

He roughly grabbed the mask and put it back on. “You didn’t see anything.”

“We could call you Denial Pony.”

“Whatever. Just don’t touch the mask.”

“But that’s boring. So let’s look at the rest of you. The cape, cool as it is, doesn't really have much function. It could also get caught in things. I haven’t put jet engines into commercial service applications yet, but trust me, capes are a bad idea. And what is this, tights? Are you shitting me?”

“I can’t exactly take this problem to Rarity,” he said. “Particularly now that she’s gone.”

“She’s not gone, just the ocean.”

“What?”

“Rarity is the ocean. From now on, when you visit the beach, you’re going to the Rarity. You want to go fishing? Go fishing at the Rarity. Sail on the Rarity. Get it?”

He did, I guess. He didn’t ask again.

I reviewed his outfit. “At any rate, you’re going to need a new name. Honestly, I’d suggest Adolf Hitler, just so someone will say ‘Hitler did nothing wrong’ if you end up getting framed for something.”

Most ponies didn’t know who Hitler was, so maybe they would hear it and assume it had something to do with “Valiant did nothing wrong.”

But who was I kidding? Hitler did a shitload of things wrong.

I went on. “Plus, Adolf - what kind of a name is that? We need something slick and modern. Tim. Jim. Little Jimmy Hitler?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s way to cutesy. We need something cool and masculine. John. John Hitler. Johnny H. No, that’s just cycling back around to the problem. Forget Hitler.” I frowned. “No, don’t forget Hitler because history is an important teacher. Just don’t emulate Hitler. That’s the lesson I’m trying to pass. Got it?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned.

“Good.” I lapsed back into thought. A sudden idea hit me. I snapped my hoof. “I’ve got it! Do you like basketball?”

“No.”

“I don’t care. You’re going to be Shaq.”

He turned to look at me, or at least I thought he did. Difficult to tell with the horse mask. “What is Shaq?”

“A master of Shaqfu, of course. Who is the man who can jam over any man?”

He looked at me blankly.

“Shaq!”

Still blank. The rubber horse mask was really not good at showing emotion.

“Never mind. Nobody else’ll get it either so your secret is safe with me.”

That didn’t seem to please him, but hey, I’m not good at makeovers.

Speaking of makeovers, I decided I should probably go check up on Rarity. She couldn’t exactly come to see me. Tin Mare gave me a lift out there.

I arrived at the Rarity shore, the sand lapped by the Rarity waves. I waved back.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said, “I need so much help to stay on top of my business. The spring transition - springsition - is almost upon us and I know Sassy can’t run the Canterlot shop alone, plus I wanted to spend time with Sweetie Belle and-”

It was almost like the sound of the water washing the beach was talking to me. I wasn’t sure what Springsteen had to do with it.

“Valiant, are you listening? I need your help! You simply must act in my stead, I would be ever so grateful until I can return to proper pony form-”

“Hey, is that Boulder?” I said. Sure enough, the pebble at the edge of the water seemed to be Maud’s pet rock. It looked like Rarity had made him a little hat out of seaweed.

A wave crashed over me. “Valiant! Pay attention!”

“What the hell?” I sputtered. “Since when do you think you can just do that?”

“So sorry, dear, you’re tiny.”

“I’m not that tiny. You being the ocean must be throwing off your sense of scale.”

“I-” she suddenly broke down crying. I’m not sure how an ocean made of water had water leaking out of it. “It’s so horrible! Ponies sail on me!”

“Not to mention fish pooping in you.”

“And then you come along and say it’s throwing off my sense of scale!” she snapped. “I know a jab at my size when I hear it!”

“Wow, I should go talk to Luna. Your tides are getting a little out of whack. Look Rarity, it sucks what happened to you, but I don’t appreciate you taking it out on me. At least I came to visit you, which is more than any of your supposed friends can say. Cut the salt.”

“I would if I could.” That set off another freakout monologue that had bored me by the opening sentence.

Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?

I didn’t. Yeah, Rarity definitely needed some alone time.

Still, maybe I could do something to cheer her up. Sweetie Belle apparently needed some attention. Rarity’s business needed some help. She’d said something about Bruce Springsteen or something.

To that end, I ended up subcontracting. I went to spend time with Sweetie, Tin Mare went to help Rarity’s clothing assistant, Sassy Saddles, in Canterlot, and I left the rest to Sunset.

Well, I sure am glad that I went to sort out the Sweetie thing myself because it sure was a tough nut to crack.

I met with the Cutie Mark Crusaders in their clubhouse. Since discovering their purpose, the three of them had done well for themselves. The walls were covered in pictures of those they had helped. Kind of creepy, honestly. I’m not sure why the eyes were glass.

It was super awkward. “Hey...so...I’m not a good Rarity analogue.”

“I mean, you could be worse,” said Sweetie. “Not much worse, but still.”

To be fair, Sweetie and I did have a fair few memories together. Building robots, killing vampires...but still. “Yeah,” I allowed, “It is kind of weird to be spending time with someone else’s kid. Speaking of that, where are your parents? Not that I think they’re essential or anything here, you seem to be doing just fine without them, but isn’t it a little weird that if they exist and appear to be successful members of society, that they aren’t around? At least Apple Bloom has an excuse with dead parents.”

I looked at Scootaloo. “And what’s your deal?”

However, we never found out because that was when a filly named Zipporwhill came in.

“What seems to be the problem?” Scootaloo asked.

“It's my puppy, Ripley,” said Zipporwhill. “We used to be so close. In fact, I got my cutie mark the day I found him and took him home. But now, it's like he wants nothing to do with me.”

Zipporwhill was a pegasus, who, for some reason, wore glasses and a tiara. In my surrogate-Rarity role, I suppose I have to comment. Who was she trying to fool with that accessory-whore ensemble?

The kids quickly reassured her. “You have the CMC guarantee!” They swept their hooves over the wall of pictures of satisfied customers. Huh, I wonder why there was a picture of Gabby. She’d never really been helped. If I recalled correctly, she’d had a mental breakdown after one small instance of being not-perfect and had left for parts unknown.

At any rate, the CMC went off to help Zipporwhill. I kept trying to place Zipporwhill’s accent. As we walked, I said, “You aren’t German, are you?” For obvious reasons, I had some cause to be suspicious of Germans with funny names.

“No.” She looked confused.

“Good, because that would have been a heck of a coincidence after all that Hitler talk earlier.”

She looked like she wanted to ask who Hitler was, but Apple Bloom said, “Didn’t there use to be a puppet show around here somewhere?”

There had, in fact. Sunset had killed the puppeteer because I mentioned in passing that he was creepy and she was trying so hard to impress me. The Japanese have a term for that, senpai notice me, which roughly translated means girls will do batshit crazy things on your behalf if you ignore them long enough. I was playing the, er, very long game with Twilight. Yeah, that’s exactly what I was doing.

Sweetie shrugged in response to Apple Bloom’s comment. “I kind of prefer black box experimental theater.”

Was that what it took to keep my word to hang out with Sweetie for Rarity?

The CMC stopped and stared at me. Scootaloo asked, “What’s with the music?”

Apple Bloom added, “And the hair?”

Sweetie finished, “And the black leotard?”

“Um,” I stared at them. “Did you mean some other Black Box?”

They did.

Shit.

Well, whatever. I wasn’t Rarity. I tried. Gold participation star for me.

Jesus, how did I keep running into Hitler topics today? Wearing gold stars? Jesus.

Anyway, since I had done what might have been my best to hang out with Sweetie, I peeled off and went to go do my own thing.

I walked into the library and started to polish my snow globes. Derpy showed up just then and I hastily put them back on the shelf. That proved wise, as she came over and have me a post-card sized piece of paper. It was a delivery receipt. Santa had gotten my letter.

That sounds way more childlike and innocent than it was. I was actually fighting to keep a bunch of names on the naughty list I’d created because of their attempted murder. In my new nice guy thing, I’d been trying to stand up for justice and fair play a lot more lately. This had all been hindered by Santa’s secretary being obstructive and dismissive.

Anyway, long story short, if you want Santa to get your letter, send it certified.

I was looking at the mail receipt when Twilight rushed into the room. “Valiant, there’s been another murder!”

By now, I was getting progressively more unenthusiastic about each body we found. It was interesting at first, but it was just getting boring now.

The two of us went to the morgue. The morgue pony showed us the body.

“They actually brought this one in still warm,” he said. “The paramedics told me they found her alive, but couldn't save her. She uttered one word before she bled out. ‘Sunny.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

A couple things, maybe. I wondered where Cracker was right now.

Twilight examined the body. “Does this one seem different?”

“What do you mean?” It looked like a familiar pattern of mutilation.

Twilight concentrated. “It’s like...oh! I recognize this magical signature!”

“Why would there be a magical signature? There was never one before. It’s not like the killer, knowing that Twilight Sparkle, boss nerd of magic was on the case, would let any magic get on the body. They’re too good for that.”

“Well, there is a magical signature,” said Twilight. She closed her eyes and her horn lit up. She concentrated for several seconds. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. “It’s Sunset’s magic!”

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” I said.

“Show me the satellite video,” she said, staring at me hard. “This body was found just outside town, in an open field. I want to know who did this to her.”

“All right, but it’s not going to be Sunset,” I said.

We walked out of the hospital and I called for Tin Mare. She had apparently finished helping Sassy Saddles with Rarity’s shop in Canterlot. She arrived with doilies on her headrests.

From inside, Twilight and I watched the video feed. I pulled it up to just before the body had been dumped and began to play the video.

The mare in question walked into the frame. Then, a cloud moved in front of the satellite. A moment later it was gone and the pony was dead.

“How could this happen!?” Twilight demanded. “It’s a completely clear day!” She gestured to the sky above.

“Well, I guess our killer must be a pegasus or something,” I said.

“That still doesn’t explain why the victim said ‘Sunny’ or why we found Sunset’s magic!” Twilight protested.

“Remember, somebody tried to frame Maud, too.”

“I’ll concede that, but this is looking worse. And that cloud didn’t look like a coincidence! Who else would know exactly how to block the satellite?”

“Because maybe it was actually a coincidence.”

“I want to see Sunset right now,” Twilight demanded. She pushed past me and headed for my place.

Well, if Twilight really wanted to confront Sunset, I sure wasn’t going to miss it.

I followed her to the front door. She pushed inside. “Sunset! Where are you?”

Sunset was there in the front room. There was blood on her hooves and she held a bundle of papers in her magic.

“Um,” she said.

Twilight ripped the papers away and looked at them. I glanced over her shoulder. They were filled with arcane runes and all the names of the victims killed so far.

“Nice journal,” I said. “I didn’t know you were keeping up with the case so closely by recording everything about what the killer had been doing.”

“Are you seriously still trying to defend her?” said Twilight. “She’s the murderer!”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said.

“It’s not!” Twilight argued. “We have way more evidence against her than anypony had against Maud and look how that turned out!”

“...the innocent pony escaped?”

Twilight shook her head. “Valiant, she needs to be taken into custody by the Royal Guard. For her own protection if nothing else. Even if she’s innocent, you don’t want a torch and pitchfork mob after her!”

I looked at Sunset. She dropped her eyes and looked away.

I sighed. “Sunset…”

She said nothing.

“Turn in your badge and your gun.”

She gave them to me. Twilight snapped a magical pair of cuffs on her and teleported them both away to Canterlot.

I stood there in the empty room. I still didn’t believe Sunset was the killer. Despite that, I couldn’t believe she’d gone quietly. Something else was afoot here.

I went over to the desk, trying to see if there was an easy answer just lying around. I found photocopies of Bruce Springsteen’s last two passports.

That was....probably not related.