Murder For Fun and Profit: So Easy, A Child Could Do It!

by TheDriderPony

Chapter 1: Biting Off More Than You Can Chew

Biting Off More Than You Can Chew


Magic. Is. Great.

Magic is probably the easiest, most convenient, problem-solving tool imaginable. If you can think of it, there's probably a spell for it, and if there's not, you can probably get the same effect with a bit of creative thinking.

If humans had magic, so many of our global-scale problems would be solved with a snap.

Hunger crisis? Take some food, add a little magic, and Bam! Twice as much food at no cost. That not enough? Do it again.

Overpopulation? Take one studio apartment, sprinkle a bit of magic, and Bang! Your apartment's been rezoned as a TARDIS and can be sublet to 500 people with room to spare.

Over-reliance on ozone-killing planes, trains, and automobiles? Let me introduce you to teleportation, cargo shrinking, and flying.

Of course, I'm not saying that humans would use magic to make an instantaneous global utopia (though I'm sure more than a few would take a wholehearted crack at it). Just, much like every other innovation and invention in human history, humans would eventually figure out how to use it to kill people.

Well, that and probably bedroom stuff, but the less said about that the better.

Frankly speaking, humans are great at killing people and ponies just aren't. Maybe it has to do with being herbivores, or some remnant of herd instinct, or just a thousand years of peace, but even in their most irrational and emotional states, murder just isn't an option that ponies even consider. Meanwhile, humans will do it on the spur of a moment at the slightest insult.

That being said, committing murder in Equestria is so easy a child could do it.

Seriously, I've seen their guards in action, and their crime scene forensics is at roughly at the same level of the nameless bobbies that Sherlock Holmes would brush aside before getting down to business.

"Hey look! An axe with bloody fingerprints on it. It might be the killer's!"

"Excellent find lieutenant! Someone clean that up before it starts to smell or someone hurts themselves."

It's ridiculous. So much so that it almost makes you want to take up murder as a hobby just to see how much you can get away with.

Which brings me to here and now. Here being an upscale outdoor cafe in a well-to-do part of Canterlot, and now being the day I've decided to kill some pony.

Now before you start throwing accusations, I'm not a sociopath. Or a psychopath. Probably. I'm not entirely sure what the difference is, but either way I'm not. I'm just very very bored. It's been some years since I wound up in Equestria, and one can only spend so long being entertained by the minute differences and similarities between it and Earth. I mean it. If I hadn't taken up this hobby as a creative and, I'll admit it, violent outlet, I probably would have gone insane by now. Seriously, they barely even have music here. Unless you're a fan of classical or dubstep, you're basically out of luck. Not a note of anything from the best eras of music to be found! I'd kill for even a sea shanty. I did once, actually. Worth it, even if it got stuck in my head for the next month.

But back to the topic at hand. Murder. It's the planning that I really like. Finding new and innovative ways to do it without leaving any evidence. Keeps the mind sharp, like sudoku but with more blood. Not that it would really matter if I was careless, but that's no excuse for sloppy work. Speaking of sloppy; today's target.

There's a stallion sitting in a cafe across the road from me. He's old, incredibly fat, and eating like he's more pig than pony. I'd say he's the kind of pony that no one would care about if he died, but that would only be true if he wasn't a huge (pun entirely intended) shipping magnate. Baron Filled Invoice. A pony whose company controls just under half of all import and export to Canterlot and who has the political and financial clout to put a lot of pressure on the other half. Basically, nothing enters or leaves the city without his say so, and that's a power he wields with gleeful vigor against his rivals, ponies who irritate him, even just particular products that he doesn't approve of.

Now I'm no DC comic anti-hero: working outside the law to kill villains who the law can't touch. I just particularly don't like this guy. He's rude, he's fat, and generally a drag on society as a whole. Plus, he put a ban on something that I just found out existed in Equestria and that I haven't had since I was human. Besides, given his lifestyle, he'd probably be dead of natural causes within four years, five tops.

Anyway, like I said, magic is really convenient, which is why I've chosen it as my weapon of choice. The thing is... I'm actually not all that good with my magic. I don't know if it's a lack of experience, or maybe my mana pool is just smaller than average, but whatever the reason my repertoire of spells could be counted on one hand, if I still had hands. Sure I can levitate small things and use my horn as a convenient flashlight, but aside from a few other cheap magician's tricks made real, that's about it. No teleportation, no transmutation, no showy Harry-Potter-Sorcerer-Supreme-Sons-of-Merlin type of stuff. So I have to get creative with the tools I have. Another of humanity's special talents.

Not only is my magic weak, but, and now this may come as a surprise, I'm no trained assassin. I haven't memorized the equine circulatory and nervous systems to deliver instant death punches. I don't know how to make poison out of rare flowers from the depths of the jungle. I can't kill someone in twenty ways with just my thumb. I don't even have thumbs!

But I have watched a lot of TV. And lampoon it all you want, but I say TV can be very educational.

"Excuse me," a sudden voice distracts me from my thoughts, "Your order."

A young stallion with a mustache so thin you could shave with it delicately places a silver tray in front of me and backs off with a bow. I can feel my mouth watering even as I look at it. A towering spiral of orange and white ice cream balanced on a sturdy wafer cone.

Why, you ask, am I eating an ice cream, now of all times? Well for two reasons. One, because it's ice cream, you ignoramus. Man or woman, pony or human, adult or child, it makes no difference. Ice cream is one of the few true joys that makes life worth living. I inhale deeply as notes of soft vanilla and tangy orange sherbet massage my senses. I don't think this combination even existed in Equestria before I ordered it special a few minutes ago. Consider its invention my karmic payment for what I'm about to do.

Secondly? It's to disguise my magic. Sure the local version of criminal investigation is waiting for the culprit to 'do the right thing' and turn himself in, but there's no sense taking chances. Besides, where the fun in that? It has to be a challenge or else I'll get bored again.

Ah ha, and here comes my chance! Baron McBloated is going for an extra-large bite of his unidentifiable dish of whatever's trendy with the opulently wealthy this week. Watching him carefully, I grab hold of my cone with my magic. And at the same time, I grab hold of something else.

Interesting trivia fact: Deftly moving one small object with magical telekinesis takes just about as much skill and effort as holding two small objects in place. For example, if I raise my ice cream cone up to my face and hold it perfectly still at licking height, that leaves just enough of my magic free to also grab hold of the Baron's latest swallow and hold it in place in his throat.

Clever, ain't it?

I watch the scene unfold as I enjoy the bliss of my ice cream. Baron Invoice has finally stopped eating long enough to realize he can't breathe. He reaches for his throat, the universal sign of choking, but he's actually so fat that he can't reach it. His flailing attempts look more like he's just fanning himself. His grunts and gasps might have aroused the interest of some staff or another patron, if only he hadn't been making those same noises throughout his entire meal.

As my ice cream gets scrumptiously lighter I free up some magic to increase my hold on the blockage in his throat. Good timing too, as he's starting to flail. He's finally attracted some attention as well. A waiter's coming over to see what the problem is. He tries to speak, but he can't, obviously. By now the Baron's gone a pretty unpleasant shade of blue that clashes horribly with his yellow coat. He struggles again as his eyes start to pop out from their sockets before he finally collapses and falls out of his chair.

That gets some attention. More ponies are rushing over now and the morbidly curiously lookie-lous have started glancing from their other activities. Quickly, before I loose my line of sight I vigorously rub the blockage up and down in his throat. Hopefully it irritates enough to cause some swelling to hold it in place. I cut off my magic and set the ice cream back down. It probably doesn't matter by this point since not a soul is looking my way.

"Oh my, what's all this ruckus?" my dining partner asks from across the table. Did I mention I wasn't alone? She sets down her own ice cream and stands up to get a better view. Even from here I can see her eyes widen behind their horn-rimmed frames. She knows exactly what's going on over there.

"I-It would seem some poor stallion has collapsed," She lies. She knows he's dead, I can hear the ponies around him saying it from here. "I think-" she swallows her nerves and tries to put on a happy face as if nothing is wrong, probably for my sake. "I do believe we should probably be heading home now. It is getting late."

She places a few bits on the table from her purse and turns back to me. "Come along dearie, you can finish your ice cream as we go."

"Coming Nana!" I chirrup, trying not to gag on my own sickly sweet voice as it leaves my mouth. I stand, making the layered skirts of my dress rustle and sway as I do. Saints above, how I hate this dress! I feel like a toddler's doll! If I ever run out of more interesting ponies to kill, whoever designed this thing is going right on the list.

An approaching jangle of armor means that the guard has finally arrived as my grandmother and I walk the away from the scene without a care in the world.

"Remember," she says with a twinkle in her eye, "If your mother or father asks, we just went to the park and back. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. We'll keep the ice cream our little secret."

I nod. "Right. Nothing out of the ordinary." Leaving her to lead on, I return my focus to the remaining half of my cone. It is delicious.

Hello by the way. I'm a seven-year old filly, and the most accomplished murderer in Equestrian history. You can call me Al.

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