Ponies loved Manehattan, me not so much. It was too crowded, the skies were too small, and the sun seemed always too far away. Things had been different a while back. When the city was young it showed so much promise. For most ponies it still did - in their eyes the city was a true marvel that combined culture, glamour and progress. Some went as far as to call it the business hub of Equestria. For me it was just vexingly uncomfortable. Too much glass and stone, and not enough trees, not to mention how tricky it was to enter unnoticed.

For the last five years I had only visited the city twice - once to investigate a rather unpleasant incident involving a neoaurite group, and the second to recruit one of its members. In both cases I had been accompanied by sun dogs. This time, I chose to go alone.

My point of entry, as always, was the Celestia Tower. Taller than any building in the city, it was the perfect spot to fly in unnoticed. Few knew that it was built on my orders, using funds from the royal treasury. Even decades ago I knew it would be useful to control sky entry to Manehattan, A quick swoop down and I was on the executive terrace.

"Short notice this time," a voice said. It was Good Investment - the CEO of Metal Line Industries. Equestria knew him as a prominent steel magnate and genius of the business world. What they didn't know, was that he was in close ties to several secret services agencies. I personally had recruited his great-great-great-grandfather centuries ago. At present, every heir did me, and a few other agencies, small favorites from time to time.

"I have arranged to have you delivered to the pet shop," he said opening the terrace door for me to enter.

The office was wide, elegant and grey - a copy of Good Investment himself. The only source of colour was a small photo of him and princess Celestia displayed proudly on the wall among diplomas and other significant certificates. A large silver birdcage was placed on the black desk - my home for the next few hours.

"Any chance you tell me what you've come for?" he asked walking towards the wall safe.

I shook my head. I knew him well enough to be sure he'd use the information for personal benefit. If he were a unicorn, things might be different, but with his dislike of unicorns and pegasi, it was out of the question. I wouldn't go as far as call him a purist, but given a choice he would always go with earth ponies, provided the other races didn't have vastly superior skills.

"As you wish," he grumbled and opened the safe. From there he took a small pouch and placed it on the desk, beside the bird cage. Fire-colour pallets - a must have since I started going on the field myself. Their taste was awful, but they changed the colour of my flame to the extent that nopony could recognize me. Today's type was Silvery White - not the worst taste, but low on the efficiency scale. I would have to eat one every two hours to hide my true colours.

"Is there anything else you need?" Good Investment asked with a hint of impatience. "I have a few important meetings and would like to get going.

Temper, temper. He always acted foalishly when things didn't go his way. Had I shared the reason for my visit, he would have cancelled all appointments, made several calls to the MPD, and sent a dozen private eyes to investigate. Since that was precisely what I wanted to avoid, I flew into the silver cage, grabbing the pallet pouch as I did so. Swallowing a pallet, I waited as its chemical composure slowly changed the colour of my feathers. The roaring red and orange was replaced by an elegant white. I could tell that Good was impressed, for he waited until the process was over before phoning his secretary to deliver me to my destination.

"The best of luck," he said walking to the picture of him and Celestia. "With whatever it is you came to do."

A delivery pony entered the office. My conversation with Good Investment was over.

From memory, I imagined the trip to the pet shop to take about half an hour, less depending on the crowd outside. The birdcage cover preventing me from seeing anything outside, I took the time to think on the matter that had brought me here. It wasn't going to be very efficient, considering the only information I had was a single sentence, but as everyone who lived over two hundred knew, history had a tendency of repeating itself. When it came to 'collectors', it took even less. The subject wasn't discussed much outside law enforcement or analytic circles. The term officially stood for deranged serial killers who took mementos from their victims. Most notorious was Jack the Clipper - a pony who had a thing for pegasus wings. 'Horn collectors', though, were a whole different breed. Not the insane chaotic criminal, they had a purpose, a plan they meticulously followed. I had read reports of horn cutting been done by extreme purists, yet if that was the case Hatred would have mentioned it. He himself had been the victim of such harassment as a foal, and knew their methods intimately.

"Hey, watch where yer going, buddy!" I heard somepony shout.

Sounded like the typical Manehattan crowd. Another reason I preferred to avoid the city. It didn't help that the neighborhood I was going to was of questionable repute. Slum would be a kind word to describe it. To this day it amazed me why had Hatred preferred to remain there. With the money he earned he could easily afford a flat in a good neighborhood. On several occasions I had asked Cold Light to talk to him on the matter, and every single time he had refused.

Arriving to the pet shop turned out a be greater hassle than I thought. With the constant shaking and bumping into ponies, the only thing I could concentrate on was remaining upright. When I finally felt the birdcage be placed on a solid surface I let out a sigh of relief.

"Here you go," I heard the voice of the delivery pony. "Direct from Metal Line Industries. Better take good care or the boss will flip."

"Don't worry about," a mare replied, probably the store owner. "He can't go wrong. Nothing but the best here."

It was an act, of course. The entire pet shot was a front for stolen goods. Discrete, and slightly on the high end, it was overlooked by local law enforcement. The owner happened to be an old friend of Hatred's. She had no idea about me, or what Hatred was involved with, and was wise enough not to ask.

As the cover came off, I saw the surprise in the mare's eyes. She definitely wasn't expecting a white phoenix. Being a professional, however, she didn't let that get her out of character.

"Say, how long will this beautiful thing remain here?" she leaned closer, smiling, but also examining me.

"Heck if I know." The delivery pony shrugged. "Till the boss sends somepony to collect it, I guess."

"Her," the pet owner corrected immediately.

"Yeah, that," the delivery pony sounded slightly embarrassed. Not so much he had referred to me as an 'it' - that he couldn't are less about. He felt embarrassed that he had made a fool of himself in front of an attractive mare. "So, must run," he smiled gingerly as he headed towards the door. "See ya around."

The pet shop owner kept her smile until the moment the door closed. A split second later, it headed away replaced by an extremely annoyed expression.

"It's here, Caramel," she shouted, tacking out a pack of cigarettes.

The sound of hooves came from the back room. Then a unicorn entered. Looking at him, nopony would suspect he was involved in anything sinister, or what his assigned code name was. 'Caramel Lime' by birth, his fur was a warm mix of greenish yellow, reinforced by a fine white mane. By pony standards he could be described as dashing in a roguish kind of way. When I found him he was a complete mess. Horn half broken off by purists, he had fallen prey to neoaurites, who had promised him a bright future, in which magic would be all-achieving and free for everypony. Of course, they hadn't mentioned he was to be used as a sacrifice to provide power for their experimental spell. Half of Manehatten could have gone up in flames, if I hadn't intervened. It had taken considerable effort to keep him from getting locked up, ten times more to convince him to join my group. In the end, he folded, and the gradual transformation from Li'l Lime to Hatred began.

"I don't know what your deal is," the pet shop owner said taking a puff from cigarette. "But don't get me in trouble."

"Those things will kill you, you know," he remarked as he approached.

"These are low hay," she replied not caring overly much.

"It's not the hay that's the problem, Gem."

One nod from me made it clear there was no time to waste. He had called me here and I had responded. Now it was time to get to work.

"I owe you one, Gem," he said opening the birdcage. I flew out and landed on his back. "Put it on my tab."

"One of these days I'll collect," she said nonchalantly. "So don't go crazy. And hide the phoenix. Thugs have killed for less."

"You're sweet, Gem," he laughed. "I'm sure the bird could take care of itself."

Outside, traffic had started to calm down. For a moment I could almost imagine I was in a normal town during rush hour. As we walked, the buildings gradually changed from middle class, to unkept then totally run down. Wide streets were replaced by filthy alleys. The entire time Hatred kept an invisibility spell on me. As Gem had said, carrying a phoenix in a place like this was a sure way to get a blade in the side.

"Come alone, boss?" he asked. A single peck on his back indicated yes. "You might want to call some help. I've no idea what we're dealing with. Two of us might not be enough."

Two more turns and we were at Hatred's lair. A crude sign above the entrance read "C. Lime - Private Eye". When he wasn't working for me, or performing experiments in his basement, that was his day job. Most of his cases involved cheating husbands, but paid well enough to sustain his rather exotic hobbies.

Entering his apartment, we immediately went to the work room. Photos, notes and newspaper clippings were everywhere, along with several boxes filled to the brim with folders. Hatred didn't believe in furniture - it slowed things down during a move. The only exception was a brand new perch, placed strategically next to the wall covered in paper clippings. At least he was learning some manners.

"Twelve cases," he pointed at a collage of paper clippings. "Going back ten months. I was first told be a friend on the force. We've done some work in the past, so he asked me to check out one of his cases."

I flew on the perch, then turned in his direction.

"Textbook suicide."

Suicide? I arched a brow.

"Yeah, tell me about it!" he said levitating a glass of water towards him. "There was a note, witnesses, and all the other things. No foul play involved. Only weird thing was his horn - removed twenty four hours prior to death. And when I say removed, I mean surgically removed, as skillfully as them that did this," he tapped his horn.

That was alarming. There were only three facilities in Equestria that dealt with horn related procedures of such intricacy. Two of them were in Canterlot, and all three were carefully monitored by a number of agencies. The fact that somepony had performed an unsanctioned surgery meant one of two things - either there was another organization capable of such a feat or it had been ordered on behalf of the princess. To be honest, i couldn't tell which was worse. At the very least I would have to sent a message to princess Celestia, warning of the possibility that one of her agencies might have gone rogue. In the meantime I would continue to deal with things here.

"Gave him my thoughts," Hatred continued. "Minus the horn, and asked if there had been similar cases. Few days later he comes with three of them. Two murders and an accident. In all instances the horns removed before death."

I flapped my wings and cowed twice. The whole thing sounded like a neoaurite experiment. A magic horn being a unicorn's source of magic, it was logical to think they would be involved. Why only remove the horns and leave the victims alive, thought? Neoaurites didn't hold a pony's life in high regard.

"I went through medical records going back a few years - morgue, hospitals, the works," Hatred went on. "Found me four more cases, all alive and well. Two moved to Trottingham, one went to the frontier, and one got himself a fancy penthouse uptown."

I waited. Judging by Hatred's eager expression there was more to the story to follow.

"So, I go to have a word. The colt had spent big bits for a new identity. Was Golden Glow, unicorn, became Steady Income, earth pony. At first he denies it, says I'm crazy. But then, I have a word and convince him otherwise. Says he was approached by some fancy lawyer. That pony offers a case of bits for his horn, and the shmuck agrees. Now, I be thinking, what's this lawyer, where did they clip the horn, but then I hear a noise from one of the rooms. So, I tell Golden to wait, and go check it out. Been gone five seconds, tops. I get back and he is gone. And I mean teleport gone. Windows closed, doors shut, nothing. Cops found him next day, dead in an alley south side. And then the bodies start popping up."

That was all I needed to hear. And as usual, Hatred had made matters worse by tipping his hoof instead of reporting in sooner, as he should have. Had he done so, the ponies behind this would be less cautious, and, more important, there would have been a lot less dead bodies. I looked at him displeased and shook my head. His involvement had been sloppy and full of mistakes, but he was right about one thing - we were going to need more help. From the information so far I had a theory what somepony was trying to do and the thought made me feel uneasy.

"So, what you think, boss?" he asked. I told him. For almost a minute he just stood there, as if struck by lightning. Not a single muscled in his entire body twitched. Then, realizing the implications, his face stretched in a wicked smile. "Those buckers! They are trying to make an alicorn!"