"Dear diary, it has been two days since Sarah's birthday party and the pingpong ball still hasn't popped out."

Civil stared at her from the hallway. The filly was laid out in her bed, on her stomach on a pillow and twirling her mane in one hoof while the other scribbled away in a small notebook. She noticed Civil at her doorway and froze.

"What?" She asked.

"......what the fuck?! It was a little girl's party!" He exclaimed.

"Yah. And?"

His hoof motioned down to his stomach, hesitated, then made circle motions. "The...the pingpong ball!.....you have to go to a doctor!"

Rolling her eyes, she made a cute snort. "Retard. Doctors don't do that kind of stuff. I need a musician."

".....uh..."

She flipped her hoof at him, as though it were obvious. "To blow on it? Duh!"

"....................." Yeah, he had nothing to follow that up.

She pulled out a small trumpet from under her and pointed it at him. A white pingpong ball was shoved down inside it.

"Check it out. Sarah didn't want one of her presents, so she gave this horn to me! We were playing with her new pingpong table and didn't have enough paddles so I was using this. Wouldn't you know it, the ball went flying high and tight and......anyway, my hooves can't get it out and I don't have the lungs to force it out. Hah, let Mom refute my limited lung capacity!" She stared into it and stuck her muzzle into the flared end. Her voice resonated metallically, "Anywho, I thought warming it up might dislodge it, you know, like a stuck jar," she continued as she glanced back at him, "but no, it's still in...hey, where are you going-!?" The stallion was slowly shambling away from her room. "Oi! Capiche? Comprende? I talking here!" He stopped and glanced back at her. She blinked. ".....um.....what did you think I was talking about?"

"No.......just.....................no......." He stumbled away. She shrugged and went back to writing.

"The party was still fun. Next we played doctor-" There was a number of bumps, thumps and a single crash as Civil tumbled down the stairs "-but I made sure we kept it PG and away from 'special places.' Liberty is a GOOD pony. :)"

***

Harris leaned forward during the safety briefing to get a better look at Civil. Today was a Tuesday, Monday being some government holiday that Civil no longer paid attention to, unless it gave everyone a day off. The briefing was to cover the use of simunitions and the safety gear for this reality based training module. It was standard stuff by now, just a repeat from the earlier training they got in that abandoned school and the active shooter scenarios. Keep mask on until end of exercise, neck guard on as well, guns are blue to show training use only, rounds use a smaller charge than real ammo but propel a small plastic bullet filled with paint, three rounds per magazine. He gently rubbed his left foreleg at the memory of getting hit with one. It was a shallow shot and had dug into his skin. Plastic or not, they can draw blood.

"Did you get into a fight, Miles?"

Short for Milestone. The whole 10,000 badge milestone meme had a chance to die out if he graduated and went to a substation that wasn't in on it. A chance. Civil had given up correcting them by now and was willing to wait it out. He shook his head and muttered, "I fell down some stairs." He didn't fault the guy for his curiosity. Civil had bruises all over him and his feathers were a mess still. Preening could only fix so much.

Harris slowly leaned back and listened to the instructor for a bit. Then he whispered out the side of his mouth, "Fight Club bs?"

Civil rolled his eyes. "No Fight Club bs." They sat for a few more minutes. Civil finally said, "Sometimes it is better not to know some things, because it leads to worse things."

Harris chuckled and tilted his head. "If we get through all this training, that is exactly what we will be doing." The pony grumbled back something neither cared to mention in the open.

The safety briefing ended and they were issued their gear. On the other side of the grounds was a private road track winding a lazy figure eight, with a set of mobile homes set up for realistic scenarios next to the track. The cadets paired off in two's and three's depending on the requirements of each scenario. One of the instructors led Harris and Civil to the first mobile home. The instructor, Senior Corporal Winslow, gave them the run down.

"You get a call, domestic disturbance, wife says she was hit by her husband. Male is known to have a gun but the gun was not out or seen at the time of the 911 call. Neighbors also called in earlier describing yelling from both a male and female. This is an ongoing issue and not the first time police have been out here. Ready?" They both nodded. Winslow raised his voice, "Starting exercise!"

Immediately they could hear yelling back and forth from inside the structure. Human and pony rushed up to the door and stood on either side of the frame but not in front of the door, the so-called fatal funnel. Harris banged on the door with his hand on his weapon, still holstered. He yelled, "Hey! Dallas Police! Open the door!" Civil peeked around the frame and saw through the window of the door that it was a long hallway which ran almost the length of the trailer and then opened to the left to a larger room, possibly a living room, given he saw the back of a couch from his vantage point. The wall along the left side separated the hallway from the rest of the structure. The yelling seemed to be coming from the living room area. There was a pause when Harris yelled police, but the two inside continued yelling back and forth, now blaming each other for involving cops. Harris banged and yelled one more time to get their attention, but to no avail. He checked the handle and found it unlocked. Glancing at Civil, he whispered, "Hallway is a bad setup. Move fast to the other end, don't burst out into the living room. Let's get each one to come to us one at a time, separate and interview. Good?" Civil nodded. They moved in down the hallway and stayed to one side, Harris in the lead and Civil following behind. Both were on edge because they had no room to maneuver if shots started flying.

They reached the end of the hallway, but before they entered the living room they saw a man. He had on a protective mask and neck guard, like all the actors were supposed to wear, arguing and pointing at a woma. She was similarly protected, sitting on another couch that was further in the living room. Civil raised his head so he could see past a countertop that led to a kitchen area, taking up the space parallel to the hallway. Given the outer dimensions of the building, it looked to be a livingroom/kitchen only mobile home. He couldn't see the far corners and felt a brief concern before the woman stood up and started screaming back at the man, calling him some rather savory insults. Harris raised his hand to get her attention.

"Ma'am, calm down, we're Dallas Police. Sir, can you walk over to the front door with my partner so we can get each side of the story, figure out what's going on today?" The male calmed down and started walking to them.

"Can you raise your hands and turn around sir?" Civil asked as he backed down the hallway.

"Am I under arrest?" the man said.

"No, sir. Just checking for weapons, officer safety. You are just being detained while we investigate the disturbance." The man shrugged and did as he was told, briefly turning as Civil patted his waist and legs. He kept his partner in sight as he did this, noting Harris was already in a back and forth conversation with the woman who was sitting back down on the couch. During this entire time, the instructor that had briefed them outside had silently moved by them and was standing in the living room observing the entire exchange. Finally he held up a hand.

"Pause ex!" The actors and cadets stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Winslow. "Okay, good entry, good de-escalation. Good separation and keeping an eye on each other while engaging one on one with your witnesses and or suspects. Just one problem. Did you clear the area?" Civil and Harris looked at each other. As they stiffly shook their heads, Winslow motioned Civil to step up next to Harris, then waved them forward and around the countertop into the living room.

As they walked further into the home, they began to see the rest of the kitchen that was initially hidden from them, along with another actor that was standing just on the otherside of that wall in the kitchen, holding a blue gun at head level. If either one of the cadets had walked around that corner blind, one of them would have taken a point-blank shot of paint to the head. Neither of them felt particularly proud of that mistake, despite the earlier praise.

"So, if we were to run this again, what would you do different? Understanding you have no prior knowledge of anything else, like a hidden third person."

Civil cleared his throat, "We would pie the corner, clear the home of any hidden or injured individuals, not just focusing on the ones in the living room." Winslow nodded and looked to Harris.

"Anything you can do prior to that?"

Harris nodded to the man and woman. "Challenge them on any other occupants, ask if there was a gun in the house or any injuries."

Winslow bobbed his head and stood to the side. "Alright, let's try some of that. Just go to the door while staying inside, we will restart from there. Remember, you don't know if anybody else is in here, but always assume there might be." The actors took up their original positions and waited. The instructor saw the cadets were back at their starting points. "Resume ex."

Again, Harris and Civil came back down the hallway and paused near the end, just as they had before while the two humans argued with each other. This time, Harris addressed them with, "Hey, Dallas Police! Are there any other individuals here or any weapons in the house?" The woman stared straight ahead at the fake television set while the man glanced into the kitchen and then mumbled a response that neither of them understood.

Both the cadets drew their weapons and the man jumped back towards the far wall, hands up. Civil backed into the living room and sidestepped slowly until he could see a portion of the other man in the kitchen who was once again pressed up against the wall. Civil couldn't see a weapon this time unless he stepped further into view.

"Show me your hands! Step out slowly and drop anything you are holding!" The man complied and as he slowly stepped into view they heard a loud thump, as though something heavy hit the floor. "Step towards me and turn around! Harris, you got the others?" Harris nodded, keeping his gun on both the individuals in the living room. Before Civil could get into a handcuffing position for the kitchen resident, Winslow stepped forward.

"End ex! Awesome." They took their masks off. "That is the correct way to do it. Some other possible things to note, if the scenario had gone a different way." He had the woman get off the couch and lift a seat cushion. Another gun was hidden under it. Harris raised his eyebrows. Civil's ears twitched.

"I assume if I hadn't had my gun pointed at them..." Harris began.

Winslow nodded. "She would have pulled the gun and shot somebody. I usually leave it to her to decide that one. Especially when dealing with domestics, search the immediate sitting areas of those involved, anything within reach. They might be the victim or suspect, but if the questioning isn't going the way they want, they might just want a summary trial right then and there." He grinned and the woman smirked. Now that her mask was off, Civil recognized her as an upperclassman. The academy tended to use either off duty officers or classes near to graduation for these scenarios. The instructor wasn't done. "Hey, Mark. Come out."

Behind the book case, another individual came out, holding a fake knife. The book case was in the far right corner of the room. Had Civil kept backing into the living room but stayed to the right side with the hallway, he would have had his back to that bookcase.

"Always, ALWAYS, clear your scene of any possible suspects or dead people. Expect every room to have somebody, because that moment you don't expect it, they will be there."

The two walked out of the mobile home a tad sober from their mistakes. Having been instructed not to repeat what they had experienced so the other cadets could get the full training value, they stood to the side, keeping their voices low. "Well that could have gone better," muttered Civil.

Harris shrugged, "We're new at this. You play games or watch movies. None of that prepares you, not like actually doing it. All those lectures about hyper vigilance earlier. Remember?" Civil nodded. "I'm starting to feel that now. Gives me the jitters." Harris shook his shoulders out. Civil grinned. It was kind of like when he shook out his wings.

The pony muttered, "The weird thing was, I was thinking about that kitchen when the woman got up and started yelling back at the guy. I got distracted."

"She was probably told to distract you unless you made a deliberate attempt to check out the kitchen. Anyway, this is to prep us for field work." Harris turned and looked at the next trailer. It had some ratty sign above the doorway, a cardboard cutout with the words 'Blue Oyster Bar' written on it. "Gee, wonder where they got that idea from?"

Civil snorted. "Cop humor." He looked around as other scenarios were being run simultaneously from the different buildings. He glanced back at the first home they had just come from. "Guard work wasn't like this. Ponies tended to keep to their own. We were only called out when it was really bad, or a monster was attacking."

Harris looked at him sidelong, eyebrow quirked. "That was not some creepy cave or castle. We were lucky neither one of us stepped into the killzones. There were a few in there." Chagrined, Civil glanced up at him and nodded in reluctant agreement. He had ridden luck before, but knew enough not to rely on it.

"I used go by gut feeling and instinct in the past. Usually it helped. Sometimes it got me in trouble...." His words died off as they heard some low bangs in the house they just came from, followed by a yelled, "End ex!"

Civil's partner patted him on the shoulder. "Go with those instincts then, tempered with caution and facts. If you felt something, then your hypersensitivity was kicking in. Just keep me informed too before the fun begins." He nodded as they both watched two other cadets glumly walk out of the residence, a blue splat on one mask and a red splat on the other's chest.

Winslow gathered Harris, Civil, Caffey and Garner in front of the bar building. "Alright, 911 call came in, a belligerent customer causing a disturbance because his tab was cut off. Remember de-escalation protocol if possible using officer safety at all times. No weapons reported, and the suspect, once you have figured out which one it is, will be smelling heavily of alcohol. For the purposes of this being a simulation, we are not dousing anyone with sanitizer today for special effects." The cadets chuckled and started putting on their masks. "Caffey, Garner, you two showed up first and waited a few minutes for cover. Other than loud music, you have not heard anything from inside. Starting exercise!"

Caffey walked up to the bar cautiously, followed by Garner and the rest. Civil could see a paint spot on Caffey's back and could only imagine how that happened. As they entered the trailer, it was fairly spacious inside with some small tables, a few chairs, a ragtag couch along one wall and a bar that must have been dragged in from some condemned pub. There were a few neon signs glowing on the walls to give the place the impression of a bar, if only an impression. Civil immediately scanned the area and saw six total people standing or sitting at various locations. One man in particular was sitting at the bar muttering darkly while another man stood behind the bar with a rag, trying to wipe down the surface.

Motioning to the left and right of her, Caffey and Garner proceeded toward the bar as Civil swung left to speak to the three individuals on the left at the tables while Harris went to the one on the couch. Keeping an eye on the cadets at the bar, he greeted the patrons. "Hello, Officer Civil Patrol. Did any of you call for police?" The patrons shook their heads and continued pretending they were drinking. Obviously they didn't seem like the trouble maker they were looking for. He was about to head over to Harris when he changed his mind.

"Did any of you witness anything, like a disturbance with a customer, or yelling?"

One of the patrons waved at the bar. "Those two over there were arguing a while back. They calmed down now. I think the one fellah is mad because the bartender cut off his tab." Civil nodded a thanks. He started thinking about frisking the patrons and decided against it. This wasn't a domestic situation where all the family members might be fighting. The customers just wanted to drink and be left alone. He nodded again and headed over to Harris, who was finishing up his conversation.

"Our suspect is most likely the guy at the bar. I haven't seen anybody check the back room yet."

Harris glanced that way and shook his head. "If the bartender is the reporting person, he won't appreciate us searching his place while the suspect is right in front of us. I'll go watch the doorway to the back though, just in case." Civil trotted over to the other cadets and stood on the opposite side of the man sitting at the bar, in case he tried to flee. He caught the tail end of the discussion.

"-don't care how you do it. He needs to leave and I want a criminal trespass done on him," the bartender told them.

Civil cut in before Caffey could reply. "Excuse me sir. Did this individual come in with anybody else or was he alone?"

The bartender looked to Winslow and waited. The instructor held up his hand and made a zero symbol. "No sir, he was here by himself." That's when he noticed Harris was standing by the back doorway. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't go back there. Only employees are allowed, health reasons."

"Yes sir, I understand," Harris responded from the doorway, but didn't budge.

After a moment, the bartender said, "Alrighty then," and turned back to the cadets. "So how are we gonna fix this?"

Caffey turned to the customer, "Sir, you heard him. He doesn't want you on his property and you are not to return, understand?"

Scooting off the barstool roughly to the point it fell over, the man threw up his hands, "Yeah, I heard. This place is a dump anyway. I think I'm going to go find another place worth my money!" Both Caffey and Garner moved in and grabbed his arms while Civil got his cuffs out. The man blustered and moved around a little stiffly, but it was mostly acting. They hadn't gotten to the module called Red Man yet. Supposedly that was where the real ass-beatings began.

Quickly cuffing him, the cadets started walking him to the door. He continued walking awkwardly, as though something were wrong with his legs. Probably playing up the drunken part, Civil thought. Once they were outside, Harris followed them. Civil thought it was odd that Winslow hadn't called end ex yet. After several more seconds walking on the gravel path, he finally did.

"End ex." They all stopped. "So, figure you walk him to the car, and then what?" They all looked at each other dubiously.

Garner said, "Search him, put him inside, belt him in, then go back and get complainant and witness information?"

Winslow nodded. "Good, good. Would it have been a good idea to get the information while you were in there, before cuffing him, to save time?"

Garner shook his head. "No. He would still be a threat until he was handcuffed. If we started discussing his arrest or focusing on writing stuff down, he could have started fighting."

"True," the instructor said, slowly nodding his head again. He moved his jaw back and forth a little. "Course, had you done that, started fiddling with your whip out books to write things down, he would have pulled the gun out of his back waistband that nobody patted him down for." They all stared at him, then at their prisoner. Caffey patted him around the waist and found nothing.

Winslow pointed behind them. There on the path, was a small blue gun. It must have fallen out of the man's pants and all the crunching on the gravel covered the sound of it hitting the ground.

Civil made a small chuffing sound, "Huh..."

"Always do a pat down right after you secure your suspect. Even if he isn't under arrest, you can do a Terry frisk. Harris, good on you for watching that back doorway. While citizens don't like you searching their place, your job to secure the scene supersedes his 'health code'. If nobody was paying attention to that direction when you put hands on our drunk guy, his 'brother' would have just returned from bumbling around in the kitchen looking for the bathroom. With his own gun. Even if nobody notices he came in alone, don't assume your witnesses are accurate or even telling the truth."

Garner wasn't too thrilled about the gun thing. "Sir, when we held his arms and the cuffs were going on, we didn't see or feel anything."

"Did you actually frisk him?" The cadet shook his head.

The 'drunk guy' answered up, "For the record, the gun was starting to slip down my ass. That's why I was walking like that, to try and keep it on my person in case they did want to do a search."

Winslow shrugged, "Aside from the pat down, everything else was pretty good. Go get ready for the next scenario."

Most of the other situations were a variation of that. Surprisingly, Civil and Harris never actually got to use their simunitions on anything. When asked about it, the instructor told them.that, aside from a few forced confrontation scripts, most of their scenes could be handled with no gunfire. That wasn't to say you shouldn't be prepared for it, which was why they never escalated to a shooting. Civil was actually proud of how he and his partner handled things that day.

Until they were all back in their classroom toward the end of the day. Their advisor was at the podium with a stern look on his face. "I understand some of you missed a gun in one of the scenarios and somebody laughed?" They were all stunned and looked around. Civil remembered their group had missed a gun. He didn't recall any laughing. Caffey raised her hand. "Sir, we missed one. But nobody laughed."

He shook his head. "Not an out loud laugh. More like a chuckle."

Civil had a sick feeling. Really? They thought that was a laugh? He cleared his throat. "That was probably me. I chuffed."

"...you...what?" The look on the man's face was complete confusion.

"A chuff. It's not a chuckle. Like, venting frustration. Huh," he demonstrated. Their advisor opened his mouth and stared at the pony.

After a few seconds, Anderson spoke, "Son, that sounds like a chuckle. Your instructor said it sounded like a chuckle."

Shrugging, the pony said, "I don't know what to tell you, sir. When I come across odd stuff, that's how I sometimes react."

Anderson put his hands together, elbows on the podium and lightly bounced his chin on his clasped hands for a minute. He said, "Perception is reality. It doesn't matter what you think you did. If someone else thinks you did it, you did it. And this is how we react. Out to the track, now. We are going to do a few laps. Move it!"

Thus, they found their whole class doing laps for the remainder of their class time before the day was done. Civil got a few not so delicate words of advice from the other members, which all boiled down to keeping his mouth shut next time. He merely shook his head, trotting along with the rest of them. He had heard somewhere that the academy instructors were supposed to jump on them for every little thing, the punishment being physical fitness. A win-win, as the staff saw it. A pain in the plot, as he class saw it. Once again, he was being accused of doing something he honestly felt was not accurate. Yet this time, he would take it. He had the feeling a lot of stuff in the future would be like this, and he had to learn to let minor things go. Pick his fights, so to speak.

The rest of that week was a lot more of that. Scenarios, death by PowerPoint, defense training in the gym, punishments. Lots of punishments. One learning module caught his interest at the end of the week. It was a lecture regarding crime scene, evidence collection and observation while trying to tell the story of what happened based on evidence at the scene. The detective giving the lecture was a Senior Corporal Allison Castleberg, attached to the department's homicide bureau.

Several of the cases she reviewed had some gruesome pictures attached to them. One was a man sitting in the bath tub, missing his face. When she asked for volunteers to venture guesses, some of them were pretty rough, like a killer keeping trophies.

"Surprisingly, this man actually died of a heart attack while taking a bath. He was found like that after several days and the smell was reported by the neighbors. His face was licked off by his pet dog." Several cadets groaned in horror. Civil, for his part, sat back and swallowed. He couldn't imagine what the dog must have been going through all that time. True, he'd heard of cats that would start eating on their owners. Dogs, on the other hoof, didn't resort to eating decayed meat unless they were ravenous. This one was simply so upset that his owner no longer moving, he kissed him to the point of skin removal.

Many of the other cases were somewhat bland. Shooting victim here, stabbing victim there, a vehicle crash that was not an accident. Civil started to zone out a bit. He had seen enough messy stuff shortly after the great battle in Equestria that he wasn't finding any interest in the current subject matter. He figured these cases would get old fast. Search a scene, talk to witnesses, document it all in a report, wait for the physical evidence services unit, PES, to process the scene, and then he'd move onto the next call.

Then he saw a picture up on the movie screen displaying a woman lying in a pool of blood. A wound appeared to be in her lower side, down by the ribs. Ripped grocery bags and strewn items were to the side. Her hair.........

He walked quickly down the sidewalk. It was late at night, not the best time to be out in the city. Groceries in his arms and trying to fiddle with the keys. His front door was just around the corner. Normally he would go out of his way to stick to the lit sidewalk. The groceries had felt so heavy that he figured a few shortcuts wouldn't hurt.

A searing pain erupted in his lower ribs, causing all his muscles to lock up. The groceries spilled out of the split bags he had started clutching so tight. His legs gave out and he crumpled where he stood, falling to his back and staring straight up. The darkly lit sky grew darker, warmth briefly spreading down his side before even that started to grow cold. So cold. So dark........so......heartbeats thumping slower, and slower....slower....

Harris thumped Civil in the ear. That hurt!

"Wake up, the class is over."

Civil glanced around. Sure enough, the cadets were packing up and getting ready to head home. The detective was also gathering up her notes and items. The picture of the last victim was still up on the wall screen.

"Was I snoring or...I was listening to that case file, and, I guess I was imagining how the evidence told the story."

Harris looked like he didn't buy it. "Uh huh. Staring glassy eyed straight forward with your mouth slightly open. Just be thankful you are a pony and people think that's your normal. On us two-leggeds, it's called daydreaming."

Civil was about to retort, but paused. Yeah, that could have been daydreaming even after he explained it. Shrugging, he got up. Taking another glance at the image, he made his way to the front. Harris waited a bit to see if Civil was heading out, then went on his own. Before long it was just the pony and the detective in the room. She noticed he had stayed behind, though a lot of students did that from time to time to ask questions.

"Ma'am, you mentioned those last few cases were still open, in case we saw something that the detectives didn't?"

She paused at the computer. She was in the process of logging off. "Yes. It's part of an experiment, more of a longshot since they've gone cold. Did you notice anything? You were kind of spaced out toward the end."

Turning red slightly, he cleared his throat. "Yes, I was trying to put myself in there place, visualize how things played out."

"Self immersion. Not a bad skill to have. Can be prone to error if you are missing key pieces of evidence, so I would not rely on it as your sole approach to an investigation. You have an insight?""

"...that last one, the killer was absolutely silent, and very quick."

She straightened a little, her interest piqued. "How so?"

"Notice the groceries. They were simply dropped straight down, not thrown about or strung along spilling items as if she had been running, so the strike was done where she fell. It was one stab, very precise. She never heard or saw a thing. You said it had pierced the heart?"

The detective considered his words, then opened her briefcase and thunbed through some papers. "Yes....let's see. M.E.'s report stated a single puncture, thin blade up through the lower ribs to hit the heart."

"There is very little blood around or even on the body."

Studying the photo of the body, Castleberg nodded. "Mm, true. The victim probably took a little while to die, but in that area of town there wasn't much foot traffic to find her in time. Rather sad really. It profiles the killer as being very precise and methodical. That is what makes this one particularly troublesome. It is easy to catch the sloppy ones. This one is different."

His eyes lingered on the victim's head. "Wonder if there are others with colored hair, too."

"Huh?"

"The hair," he pointed with his hoof, "She recently colored it, probably a temp dye that washes out. I know my sister...mom....she wants to dye hers." After the curious look he got, he said, "Nevermind. Anyway....what?" The lady was continuing to look at him with that odd expression.

"Colored hair?" She regarded the picture of the victim. "It's light brown."

"Sort of. It used to be colored."

Castleberg squinted at the monitor. "How do you get that? I'm not seeing it in this image."

"Oh, right. Sorry. We ponies have more sensitive eyes. Notice how much larger they are than human ones?" Pointing at his eye, "It has to do with color saturation or cone number count or something. Some egg heads back home explained it in school. Pegasi excel in eyesight activities, like spotting things from the sky, navigating through tree branches at high speed, that sort of stuff."

She tapped her chin with a pen after jotting a few notes down on her notepad. "Did they explain if this specialized eyesight was magical, or some evolutionary mutation biologically?"

"I think it went hoof in hoof with both of those. Also, there are many different hair and coat colors in our world. Even our eyes tend to have colors far different from Earth. Most people think the cartoon is just colorful, but Equestria is so lush with color...I figure it was just inevitable we would evolve adaptations."

"Must make our world look drab to you." She used the mouse to zoom in on the victim's face while trying to keep as much of the hair on screen.

"It has its moments....actually, let's try this." He motioned to move in front of her and got in front of the keyboard. Moving the mouse, he accessed color options in the Microsoft background. Frowning, he leaned over the monitor and started fiddling with the screen controls with a wingtip. As he worked with it, he squinted at the screen. "Ugh, it hurts my eyes to look at it. Can you see if you notice what I'm talking about?" She nodded and continued watching what he was doing.

"Wait, stop." She tapped his shoulder. "There it is." Leaning over him, she tilted her head. "I'll be damned, the hair does show signs of coloration. What would you say these colors were?"

"Right now, I couldn't. The pallette is so jacked up it makes my eyes itch."

"Let me jot these settings down so I can pass them on to Baltimore. Okay, if you could, try putting it back to the factory reset settings." He did as instructed, sitting back when he was done. She nodded at the screen. "How about now?"

"Mm, much better. Light blue, light pink....sea green? Aquamarine definitely, with some pastel shades."

"Wow, you see all that?" Her pen busily scribbled away.

"There's more. It is just difficult to put into words since some colors don't exist in English." He made a few horse sounds. At least, they sounded like horse sounds to her. It would be Epponese to him and any other pony versed in the language. "Only another pony would understand or see the colors, or recognize them."

"Woh, wait a second." She held up her pen, then pointed at the screen. "Are you saying another pony colored her hair, maybe?"

"No, I'm not saying that." he shook his head. "I'm....huh," he chuffed. A slight irritation of a memory reminded him the last time he chuffed. Shaking it away he said, "Now that you mention it...only another pony could appreciate those colors." He paused, sitting back on his haunches and stared at the victim. "I thought something was familiar about that," he whispered. Civil.almost said more, then thought better of it.

"Familiar, that you are seeing more colors than what a human would wear, like pony colors? That is the familiar feeling? Or a familiar pattern."

"I thought it would be a pattern or...this is not the first time colored hair was a thing in a murder. But, no, it's something else. It feels like something else." He squeezed his eyes shut, then sighed, looking at her apologetically. "I had it and it was gone."

"In any case, this is certainly more than what they had before. I'll pass on your expert opinion and see if it helps." She paused, looking at the screen, before logging off. "Damn good observation."

"I'm no expert. I just notice things now and then. Not everypony cares to hear it when I have an idea."

"You have a sense for detail. Don't keep secrets like that to yourself. The tiniest thing can solve the biggest cases. And, if this is pony related, you would be an excellent source of information."

Civil pondered her words and started getting a very icky feeling the longer he thought on it. Other than light frequencies and a possible connection with hair coloring habits...could there be more to it? He remembered Sarah. The knife plunging into a vibrantly red velvet cake of a pony he knew quite well. The icky feeling was getting worse. The instructor paused at the doorway, watching him as he stared at the blank screen. He turned his head to her and muttered, "I'm not sure how I would feel if it is pony related." She nodded and was not oblivious to the political ramifications if that were true.

***

Finally the weekend had arrived. After all the stressful RBT scenarios and the smoke sessions, Civil was beat. He said as much to his family, shortly before crashing on the couch for a lovely Saturday nap. He knew he should have gone to the roof instead.

"Smoke sessions!?!" Liberty, hooves on either side of his head on the arm rest, face staring upside down at him as she stood over him. Her other half was on the marble topped end table. "Since when did you start smoking!?!"

"Off the end table," came their mother's voice from upstairs. She must have been on her computer.

"How did she know that?" muttered Liberty as she hopped down. Then she propped her front up on the couch, digging her hooves into Civil's side.

Growling, he rolled away from her, brushing her off with his wing. "Those dirty hooves you keep jabbing me with, maybe. They make a distinct clicking sound on the marble."

Liberty's face took on a look of wonderment. She whispered, "Mom can hear that from up there?"

"Yes, I can."

Civil snorted softly and curled in on himself more, hoping to get that much needed nap.

He could feel her eyes boring into him. He grumbled and said, "When a class screws up, the trainers force them to do painful exercises until they are physically worn out. Getting smoked. Burning out our muscles, I guess. That's what happened, I don't smoke anything. Peace."

His phone started ringing. Moaning in abject frustration, he swiped the front of his phone and laid his head back, letting the phone sit on his neck. He must have also slid across the speaker option because Strato Sphere's voice piped out of it.

"Hey Civil, how are ya?"

".....trying to take a nap."

"Awesome! Just finished mine." Civil peeked at his phone and rolled his eyes. Liberty giggled. "Anyway, I called to see if you were going to that convention in a few weeks. It IS In Dallas, afterall."

"YES!!!"
"...no..."

Civil glowered at the now hyperactive filly hopping up and down, glee on her face. His ear twitched when he noticed their mother upstairs was no longer making typing sounds on the keyboard. He grumbled at the phone, "What's the big deal, it's just another cringey fan service event to oggle at us four-legged creatures in 3D now instead of the Cartoon Network." He ignored several rude comments that slipped out of Liberty.

"Yeah, I know. But this is going to get a whole town full of ponies showing up."

Civil raised his head and stared at his phone. "A whole town full. Like....a Frontier whole town full...?"

"Yeppers. Thought that would get your attention."

He wasn't the only one paying attention now. Both Civil and Liberty noticed Karen was sitting at the top of the stairs, listening in with a wistful expression. He had seen that look before. It was the kind where only a few words from her could radically redirect his life's path, if she wanted to. He already had a feeling what she was going to say, but he thought he could head off this latest social intervention. Sitting up, he held his phone in a hoof and spoke slowly.

"Strat, I find it somewhat hard to believe that an entire town would want to visit a pony con anyway. Some ponies just want to live normal lives."

"Oh trust me, they do want that, but they also want to realign some brony thinking and this is the perfect chance. Just the name of the con was enough to mobilize them. There was a song and everything. "

Civil held his hoof up at Liberty before she asked what song it was. He was in no mood. Sighing, the stallion asked, "And the name of the con?"

"Bros Before Hooves."

Shocked, he sputtered, "Good God, really!?!" Liberty fell over, cackling with laughter. He ignored her and continued. "That is such a terrible name!"

"I know right? That's why we are trying to get all of Frontier to go. We figure if we send enough hooves there, we will outnumber the bronies and they will have to change the name next year. You know, since there are more hooves, the bros wouldn't be before the hooves anymore. We count as four each, obviously. You do the math."

Civil rubbed his eyes wearily. He was too tired to deal with this pony shit. "...that....that's not how that works. It has nothing to do with the amount of hooves or bros. It has to do with...you know what, nevermind. Obviously it's a pony shit-"

"Civil!" Both moms yelled.

"-stuff. A pony stuff thing."

"Damn straight it is," Stratophere replied. "So, you going? Baro will be there."

"Baro? You, me, Baro, almost the whole Randolph gang. Is Pink going?"

"Only if you ask her, bud."

"Hm.....wait, the whole town?"

"Yup!"

Ignoring the grin plastered on Liberty's tiny muzzle, he said quietly, "That requires a lot of coordination and leadership to pull off. Community work kind of leadership. Is Pink leading the effort?"

"..........."

"You know, ponies are terrible liars," Civil said contritely.

"That's why I ain't lying. Well?" Of course, she would be going, regardless of if he asked her to go or not. That would put her in Dallas, with lots of questions as to why he didn't visit with the mare he was supposedly courting. Not that he was trying to avoid her, per se......

Groaning, Civil relented. "Alright already, I'll ask her." Liberty squeed and Karen sighed. He shook his head, ignoring them.

There was a pause. "Are you and she okay?" Guess his friend noticed his reluctance.

"We are. Just that...pony cons....I had my share of anime cons in college. Whenever I am near her, she gets me on my back hoof enough already...I don't want to be super awkward with Pink at a convention where ponies in general will be on full display. Not the best dating venue, you know?" And on a good day he thought he had his hooves full trying not to act the fool in front of one vivacious mare. Now there would be a town's worth, AND a convention's worth of humans, AND in the city he was trying to work-

Strat's voice took on a softer tone. "Oh hay, Civ, we got your back. Strength in herds, remember? Trust me when I say, nopony gets left behind in this mission. Granted, Pink sold the idea on tourist recognition for the town initially, but this could really work out for everypony, not just business back home. We're talking about sociopolitical advancement for our species and brand new avenues to explore Harmony in human culture and-" He stopped when he heard Civil mock snoring in the background. "Yah yah, yuck it up. Anyway, don't be a stranger and try to show up, kay?"

"We'll see what my schedule looks like." Strat's reply was dubious in believing Civil would have any legitimate conflicts but his goodbye was still cheery when the phone call ended.

Civil slowly looked between the two females staring at him. He then deliberately turned to the human at the top of the stairs and ignored Liberty. He was racking up ignoring points with the filly today. "Mom, it is going to be really really nerdy, like a comic book sci-fi anime thing, with lots of pony themes. It's all from a show originally meant for young girls that now has girls and guys of all ages gushing and fanboying over us."

Karen tilted her head slightly. "A show based on your real world. Another world dear. With an entire town's worth of ponies visiting, I will finally get to see what your people are truly like from a cultural standpoint. You even mentioned once that you have your own language. Epponese, was it?" She was an ESL teacher at the Collin community college. Of course she would be interested. "I know I don't visit these conventions normally, yet this is a golden opportunity to, dare I say, get to know more of thus 'pony stuff' you like to talk about?"

He glanced back at Liberty and saw her absolutely vibrating with excitement. He knew where she stood, IF she could stop hopping up and down long enough....and she was bouncing up a storm. She was also repeating the word 'initiation' over and over under her breath.

"Damn," he hissed between his teeth.

Next Chapter: Into The Mouth Of Madness. Convention Style Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 23 Minutes