These City Walls

by KitsuneRisu

First published 13th of December, 2011

A series of mysterious circumstances leads the Canterlot Police to discover a plot as old as time.

A strange series of occurrences are plaguing the fine city of Canterlot, as one by one, a pony of vengeance strikes seemingly random ponies down in their prime. As the locals try to contain the situation, they find that it soon slips out of their hooves as they discover that this one simple pony might not be as simple as was originally thought. Once Twilight Sparkle and Princess Celestia gets involved, can everyone work together to bring down this threat that threatens to ruin the very core of Canterlot? These City Walls is an exploratory tale about character, relationships, mystery, and the very old, ancient powers that be. And once five innocent ponies get tied up in the lives of each other, a struggle begins to keep the entire city safe for future generations.

This is a primarily OC story. Yes. Run. Run in fear.

Wicked Stable Pt 1

- Excerpt: 'Demons Amongst Us'; chapter: 'The Eater';
Author Unknown; Date Unknown

The well worn streets of Canterlot could tell you a few hundred thousand stories. Each of them stacked up, one upon the other, with the hoof prints of the last pony to walk down the winding, grass-lined roads that separated shops and houses. If the streets could speak, they would say many things. It is quite possible that most of what they would have to say would be along the lines of please sir, would you kindly get off, you're not that light, quit trodding on my face, so perhaps it is best that the streets remain silent.

But still, they hold stories. Where ever a single pony walks, he brings with him a rich history of a personal tale from the time he or she first dropped step onto the gilded bridges over the west gardens, or the skydocks where the Pegasus chariots ferry ponies from all across the gracious lands of Equestria.

For most ponies this is where their stories begin.

For some this is where they end.

The crowd gathered around outside the front of Duriandal's Perfumery. It, like most other buildings in Canterlot, was a gorgeous building, lined with purple trimming over silver walls. The building itself was a rotunda, with frame-less glass windows lining one half of the wall, only split in two by the main doors that beckoned entry into the Shoppe. The golden roof hid the second floor of the shop where Duriandal lived and slept, circular windows dotting the rim unevenly.

The Shoppe was a little more than halfway up a grand stairway; one of the few sloping slanted market stairs that contributed to the landscape of the consumer side of the city. The street was just one large set of widely-spaced steps, with shops bordering either side and a grand emporium right at the top. Cafes, accessories, you could probably get it all here if you stayed a while, and most ponies on a lazy Saturday afternoon would love to if you'd invited them out for a cup of tea and a walk.

"Hey, let's go to HoneyLane Avenue," you'd say. "For a cup of tea, and a walk."

"Yeah, let's!" would be the reply. "And let's get some hats, too!"

For never was there a pony who didn't understand the value of a hat.

This was not why the crowd was gathered outside of MagnifiScents that day.

The doors of the perfumery were open, braced against small wooden blocks that prevented their closing. A strange smell wafted from within, and while one would naturally conclude that a perfume shop should by definition play host to a multitude of strange smells, this one was quite fouler.

It smelt of ichor. And if anyone were to be able to tell you, Duriandal would conclude that ichor is not something usually used to make perfumes.

She probably wouldn't say anything in the meantime, anyhow. It's hard to talk when one is choking back tears.

Two of Celestia's personal guards were barring entry, but they could not very well bar the curious stares of the ponies that threatened to mob the scene. The glass wall that normally gave previews of the lovely selection of crystal bottles and perfume spritzers that sat, luring customers, upon the shelves of the store now became the portal to a terrible sight, one that made most of the onlookers stunned in retrospective silence.

But they wouldn't move. Not for a case like this. It was a train wreck. The absolution of what happened just simply caused the casual bystander to freeze and just watch with a mix of disdain and morbid curiosity.

Now, of course, Celestia's personal guards don't just make personal appearances for any old crime. They only showed up for something serious, and their presence was more of a signifier that something incredibly serious had happened.

Sergeant Blue Canary did not like it. As the head of the investigations team of the local district Pony Police station, she only felt that the presence of these unmoving statues of guards only served to draw more attention to the scene, as it no doubt already had.

They got in her way, and they upset her greatly. Especially when she was perfectly capable of handling it on her own, thank you very much, and we don't need any help from the elites, always coming here and throwing around jurisdiction like as if they owned the Colt-forsaken place.

Not like they did anything besides stand around and glare at people anyway.

"Alright, nothing to see here. Let's keep moving," she said sternly, the same old thing that every other pony says when there is always something to see. She directed the last of that proclamation to the two guards as well.

"Where's the tape... where's the darn tape..." she muttered to herself, looking up at the big clock that stood affixed to the front of the bazaar at the end of the street. Her second in command, Constable Red Berry, was late, as usual, but not because of forgetfulness or any sort of reasonable reason.

No, once 'forgetfulness' becomes a reasonable excuse, you know you've been partnered with the wrong pony.

Light red hoofbeats shook the windows as a small-figured pony of rather sad stature ran up the road as fast as she could. In her mouth she held a roll of police tape, trailing behind her like a banner in a parade. Her straight, layered green hair also flapped casually in the wind, making her seem like an out-of-control parade float. A worried look was plastered across her face as she threw herself around innocent bystanders and queer onlookers alike, dodging and almost nearly running head-long into a few.

Upon her head was a little navy-blue helmet, a little round bubble of a thing. It also had a little spinning red berry alarm on top, which was currently on, and blazing its caution to the ponies around. A small chain hung on the left of the helmet to turn it on or off at her discretion.

She ran at full speed, knowing well enough that she was already in trouble as it was.

And then stopped.

Wait a minute, where was this, again?

"Hey, Berry!" someone shouted behind her. She turned, the tape flying around and clinging to her wet neck. For some reason she was entirely soaked as well, water dripping off any part of her that gave it opportunity to. She scanned the crowd, trying to find the owner of the voice.

"BERRY!" Sergeant Canary screamed.

Oh, right! There! Whoops, ran right past it. No matter! Constable Berry sheepishly made her way back, squeezing past the crowd and spitting the tape onto the ground in front of the larger yellow pony, the edge of the tape still plastered to the side of her face like an oversized bandage.

"C...constable Red Berry reporting, ma'am!" she saluted, nervously. "So...sorry I'm late... I fell into the canal behind the street... and..."

"Yeah, yeah, save it," said Canary, sighing. She yanked the tape off Berry's face with a quick burst of magic from her horn and brought the end over to one side of the double glass doors, motioning to Berry to get the other end.

"Oh, oh right," Berry mumbled, grabbing the end of the tape off the floor, and slowly unrolling it to block the entryway.

"Don't forget to cut off the end before you let go!" reminded Canary, tape hovering in front of her. She put the tape up at a good height, the sticky side securing it fastidiously to the door frame. She looked over to Berry's end.

She was standing there, miserable look on her face. She tried to smile, but all she could do was shrink into herself a little bit. While the other end of the yellow and black 'do not enter' tape was also securely fastened, the remainder of the entire roll was now unravelling itself and tumbling down the entire length of HoneyLane Avenue.

Canary smacked her teeth, stoic expression on her face, tapping a hoof on the ground. She turned, slowly, ducked under the tape and just simply entered the store.

Behind her, the figure of Red Berry was already slowly disappearing into the distance as she gave chase after the errant roll of tape, helmet blazing away.

The royal guards stood there, doing nothing, saying nothing, as sentinel as ever.

The inside of MagnifiScents was just as beautiful as it was on the out; polished wooden tables of curved design bordered the entire store, upon which were stacked such a variety of containers of all sorts that you'd be spoilt for choice.

The stacked shelves only broke in two places - one being the entryway that Sergeant Canary just came through, and the other on the far opposite of the shop, which held a simple wooden door that led upstairs. A little carved wooden sign that read 'private!' hung upon it, straight as an arrow.

It was all very... symmetrical. Right in the center of the round room was a round glass display counter, and within that was a round pillar that stretched from floor to ceiling. The marble tiles that lined the floor were even circular as well, with these starburst patterns that separated them where the circles didn't lie.

It seemed that whoever designed this place had a pretty specific shape in mind.

But still, Officer Canary couldn't say it wasn't nice. It was actually very beautiful, and it gave this sense that no matter where you were in the shop, you always had the same view, and you were always in a familiar place.

Cloth banners touting the latest specialty item, 'cloud puffers' were hung up on the roof, inviting people to come take a look, because they were on introductory sale, and were only 79 bits.

What. A. Bargain.

79 bits for a cloud. Officer Canary snorted to herself. Some ponies. Really. Too much money to spend on frivolous items that had no purpose other than to let its owner go 'hey, look what I can afford', and also, really, when will you ever need to use such a thing? All you needed was a good old bottle and be done with it, and not to mention...

A soft sob cut Canary's mental rant short. Oh yeah. That's right.

She strolled slowly to the center counter, behind which was an Earth pony of a slightly off-coloured yellow. An Earth pony? They were pretty uncommon around here in Canterlot.

Canary tilted her head, and stepped over the large red streak that was the only break in the elegant harmony of the shop.

The Earth pony was sniffing, letting out a short, sharp breath once in a while, traumatized by quite a bad event.

Her green, spiky hair was ruffled and unkempt, and was made even more so by her running of hooves through it every once in a while as she tried to keep herself from breaking down into smaller pieces.

Her head was in her hooves, propped up by elbows on the countertop, as Officer Canary approached with much restraint.

"So..." she said, starting off easy, "Cloud puffers, huh? New item on the market?"

Duriandal looked up through shining wet globes, a bit taken aback at the start. Finally, darting her eyes left and right a bit, she allowed her hooves to drop back to the table, where she gingerly, and with shaking legs, pulled out a small box from underneath the glass panes.

"Y... yeah..." she said, pushing the box forward toward Officer Canary, "It's... the... latest thing... you... have a little cloud... and you can..."

She coughed, suddenly, a bit of moisture running down the wrong way.

Officer Canary waved a leg, as if to say, don't worry, go on.

Duriandal just pulled off the lid of the box, and sitting there on a red velvet plush pillow lining was a tiny little cloud, in the shape of a star. Clearly it had been made with some finesse, and careful hooves. It was a work of art by itself, although Officer Canary honestly did not appreciate such things on a personal level.

"You... you can choose any one... of my fabu... fabulous scents," Duriandal went on, stuttering every so often, but slowly getting back into her spiel. Behind her, lining the center pillar all the way around from bottom to top, were large glass bottles of all kinds of various coloured liquids. Each bottle had a spigot attached to the bottom, and all of them were labelled with the name of the scented oil that you would find within, neatly, and with cursive writing.

"And... and we will infuse the cloud with... your choice of smell. You may then use it to apply to yourself as thus..." she plucked the cloud up and patted herself in the face with it gently, "or leave it out as a diffuser."

"Only 79 bits, huh?"

"Y... yes, ma'am. As... a... a special introductory price."

"Call me Canary," the officer said, floating off her helmet and settling it on the counter next to the cloud. "Came up with all this yourself?"

"Y...yes, Miss Canary," she replied. "It... it's an invention of mine... I have a Pegasus helping me in Cloudsdale..."

"You know what?" Canary cut in suddenly. "I think I'm going to buy one."

"W...what? Here? Now? Well... alright, but..." Duriandal stuttered. Her mind had started to shift from the events that had just transpired to other more immediate matters. "What... sort of scent would you like? We have a selection of over three hundred, and you may combine up to three in a single purchase."

She weakly stretched her leg back to motion towards the bottles behind her. It was an exhaustive collection. Canary had no idea where to start.

But luckily, at that point, she heard a very familiar sound behind her. That of failure and annoyance.

"Berry! Get in here!" she yelled suddenly, over her shoulder. Constable Red Berry stood there, and suddenly dropped the mass of tangled, scrunched-up tape that she herself was hovering above her, like a plastic tumbleweed.

"Coming!" she squeaked, ducking under the tape and entering the store.

"And turn that off!"

Click. Berry pulled the chain that dangled to the side of her helmet with her mouth and the blinking, shining light slowly came to a stop as the rotation ended and the light died down.

"Hey, Berry. What do you like to smell?"

"I'm... I'm sorry, ma'am?"

"Smells. Scents. You know. Things you breathe in with your nose. What do you like?"

"Uh..." she stammered. "Uh... I... like chocolate?"

Canary turned back to the lady behind the counter, looking very confused and holding a little tiny star cloud with both hooves, squeezing it out of stress. It went 'poof' with each application of pressure.

"Hey, you got chocolate?" Canary asked with a smile.

"Ah... yes... yes of course, it's one of our most popular scents, in fact... amongst the younger crowd... we have... um... Hazelnut... Coffee... White... Caramel..."

"Yes. That one. Caramel. One please."

"Of course, right away, ma'am," Duriandal returned to the honorific, because now she was dealing with a customer. She ducked under the table for a moment and retrieved a small glass jar, a round globe-like thing with a thin stem for a neck. With it, she pushed a mounted step-ladder on wheels to the opposite end of the pillar where the Caramel Chocolate scent was kept.

"But I wanted hazelnut..." protested Red Berry.

Canary gave her that kind of 'what are you doing' look that you give to small children when they do something incredibly silly like draw over your nice new chariot with their shiny crayons.

"srry..." mumbed the small red constable, under her breath. "I jus' really like hazl... OW!"

"Everything alright?" Duriandal's worried face popped out from behind the pillar.

Canary quickly shuffled her left rear leg back off Red Berry's hoof and back into place. "Of course. No problem," she smiled, then turned, face dark again, back at Berry.

"Go. Go... check out... back there," she whispered, looking at the crowd outside. She did not want to have to fight with those bunch of nosey parkers outside. Waving her hoof generally in the direction of the trail of red, thick, smelly liquid, she flicked her head towards the doors. "Trail leads behind the shop. Go check it out, and don't touch anything," she hissed.

"Yes, ma'am!" Berry whispered back, guilty eyes on her face. She drew back and stumbled out the door, turning on her little red light again.

Colt, why did she like that thing so much?

After a while, Duriandal appeared again, carrying the little flask, now full of a dark brown, yet clear, liquid. The powerful whiff of chocolate mixed with freshly made caramel hit Canary in the face like a winter wind. This was made even more apparent thanks to the musty smell that the front of the shop already had floating around, and the distinction was so great and obvious that Canary had no choice but to raise an eyelid.

"That's... some strong stuff," she said, commenting.

"Oh yes, it is, ma'am. Pure oil infused with essence of chocolate bean and vanilla. I make it myself, of course."

She had started to pull out a display rack, one of those small portable ones that you usually find in jewellery shops displaying rings and the like, but this one had different cloud shapes within them.

"We have a multitude of containers for your choice, ma'am, if you would care to give a look...?"

"Tell you what, I'm going to give this some serious thought," Canary said. "In the meantime, why don't you tell me a little bit about what happened here just now?"

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Officer Red Berry wasn't a bad policepony. She wasn't... good either, but that wasn't really the point. The point was that she was very dedicated, and she was very faithful. Sometimes, you have to just accept ponies for who they are just because the rarest virtues are the more important ones.

Red Berry, or Rebby as sometimes they liked to call her down at the station, gave herself a little imaginary pat on the back. Investigative work! Finally! Well, at least, by herself, and that was something that Sergeant Blue Canary had never given her before.

Well alright, technically only a wall separated the two of them, and between the both of them, Sergeant Canary was far more qualified to talk to the witness. Also, following a blood trail to wherever it led wasn't necessarily investigative work, per se, but still! Happy days!

She moved along the side of the wall, where the red streaks took her. Of course, this could only mean one thing. The murder occurred inside the store, and then the body was dragged out! Or... was the murder outside, and the body dragged in?

There wasn't any signs of a struggle in the shop, Rebby reasoned, and that shopkeeper, who slept just upstairs, hadn't heard anything until finding the dried blood the next day, so it suggested that perhaps the murder didn't take place within the shop itself.

However, why then would someone break into a shop at night, just to paint a trail of blood, and then remove the corpse?

Wait, was there even a corpse? Maybe whomever did this was still alive! But it was unlikely. There was a lot of blood, and also, that scribble on the wall kind of made it swing in one direction.

Rebby looked at it contemplatively, wondering what exactly it meant. It seemed to be written in the blood of the victim, if there even was one, of course, and it was in quite terrible handwriting indeed. This was a cause for concern.

She spelt it out in her head.

"One... has been... freed..." she muttered to herself, reading the cryptic message back to herself.

So, naturally, the thought now was that someone had murdered a poor pony inside the shop, tormenting and terrorizing an innocent perfumist, and then later dragging her out of the store again just to write a lovely little message on the wall and then... well... where did it go?

She followed the trail of blood a bit more. From the alleyway behind MagnifiScents, to the canal that ran parallel to the street.

The canal that Rebby had just dropped in earlier.

"Oh, eew!" she shuddered, realising what she had just done.

She shook it off, giving the canal a condensed glare, as if to blame it for being there. Turning around she surveyed the surroundings. To her left, as she walked back to the main street, was a tall brick building that offered no vantage. No windows, no anything. Just a solid three storey wall that sandwiched the very narrow passage that Rebby was standing in at the very moment.

To her right, the message drawn on the back of the perfumery. The wall was curved, as was the building, and therefore the opening widened slightly at either end of the alley.

It seemed that there were no other witnesses who saw it happen, or at least none who were freely giving up information, and as thus Rebby reckoned that it must have been done late at night, or at least during a time when no one could see.

She nodded to herself. Yes, investigation!

Logical deduction! This is the very spirit of the police officer! She stamped happily on the cobblestone streets.

Wait! Cobblestones!

That's going to be hard to drag someone across, isn't it? It'll be bumpy and rough. Certainly something not an Earth pony could do. Hm... perhaps she had aid. But if she were a pegasus, why drag at all? You could carry and leave no trace, unless it was intentional, but if they had just meant for everypony to find the message, they wouldn't have to drag the body away as well.

It must be magic. It must be. A checklist was ticked inside of Rebby's head. She was excited. Applying all these skills that Sergeant Canary - one of Canterlot's finest - had imparted on her... it was thrilling!

She happily walked back toward the front, where the crowd had started to disperse, thankfully. A few bystanders remained, watching carefully.

Oh wait... Canary told me about this once. The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime! Oh, oh oh. She took a quick scan of the faces of the ponies who remained, pulling out her trusty notebook and pencil, weather-beaten through use, and jotted down quick descriptions of each.

Oh she was on a roll.

Quickly, she returned to the store to report what she had found.

At that time, fortunately, Sergeant Canary had finished having a little chat with Duriandal and, having paid for her little gift, had left the shop with the nicely wrapped package in tow. Service, clearly, was important at MagnifiScents. Duriandal called out a fleeting 'goodbye, come again!' to the pair as they stepped outside and Canary took a deep breath.

"Well, that was interesting," she said. "And you. Find anything?"

"Oh, lots," said Berry, bringing Canary back to the alleyway. "Look at this!"

She stood proudly in front of the scrawled message.

"Berry, you're standing in a pool of..." Canary said.

Berry stepped gingerly to the left, wiping her hoof on the stoned pavement.

Canary groaned.

"Well... um... as I see it," Berry started, as Canary herself took a quick cursory glance around the area. "I have come to the conclusion that the perp is a Unicorn."

"Me too," said Canary, looking at the words on the wall.

"Way I figure it, a pony couldn't drag a body across these here rough roads, and a pegasus might as well fly it off, so..."

"Well, you're right about the Unicorn, but not because of those reasons," Canary shot Berry down dryly.

"But..."

"Why couldn't a stallion, or a large buck drag a small body across the floor?"

"Well..."

"And wouldn't flying while carrying an entire body be more difficult than dragging it?"

"I suppose..."

"The words," Canary flicked her head up at the wall. "That's the key. Notice how high up it is?"

"Well they are rather high up..."

"Without help, or without putting your body on the wall, you wouldn't be able to reach up there with your mouth. No hoofprints. Not an Earth pony."

"Well... what if they flew?"

"Look at how the words are written. Elongated. Slightly stretched. The angle suggests that at the time of writing, with... whatever it was they used to write it, the perp was standing here, on the ground, and not at eye level."

"That... that is brilliant, Sarge!" Rebby gushed, genuinely. She had such respect.

"Yeah... what else do you have?"

"I got some descriptions of the people who were lingering around in the crowd. Maybe one of them's the perp come back to check out his or her work, eh?"

"Throw it away," said Canary.

"But... why?"

"No body. Nothing to see. Nothing to experience. They aren't going to come back just to see two idiot cops bumbling around. They already left a message, anyway. They needn't be here."

"Oh..."

"Besides, this perp? He or she is smart. Managed to pull something off like this in the middle of one of the busiest shop streets in Canterlot," Canary sighed, "Doesn't make our job any easier. But the perp knows what he's doing."

"Well..."

"So, way I figure it, the murder happened here, in this alley. Closed off. No one to see, walls to contain the scream. Perp writes a message. Drags the body to the river, throws her away, lets nature take care of the rest."

Rebby nodded, clinging on to every word.

"Then he..." Canary shook her head. "This is the part I can't figure out. He makes a second trail back into the middle of a shop... for what? Just to lead us to the message? Why all that trouble? Why not just to the streets outside?"

Canary clopped her hoof on the ground for a while, deep in thought. "Maybe they had something against this Miss Duriandal or something..."

"Uh... Sarge?" Rebby said softly.

"Yeah, what is it, Berry?"

"I reckon... I reckon... the murder took place inside the shop, ma'am."

Canary turned to look at Constable Berry, staring at her curiously. "And what gives you that idea?"

"Well, uh... ma'am. See, like you said, none of this makes sense. If the murder... did occur in the store, the question is why would someone break in just to do it there, right?"

"Right, so obviously it didn't take pla..."

Rebby cut her off, high on her excitement.

"But what if the victim was already in the store?"

Canary stopped in mid-sentence, mouth open. She looked up at the cryptic note on the wall, and then back at Red Berry.

"You know..." she said, finally, "I'm going to have to buy you a drink one of these days. Let's go," she said, suddenly turning and heading back toward the store, with an overjoyed Rebby in tow.

Sergeant Canary nearly hit the police tape as she barely ducked in time to get into the store.

"Miss Duriandal," she called out, "Very sorry to bother you again, but I have a few more questions."

"Oh, no problem!" Duriandal smiled back. She looked a lot better now, and was packing up some of her supplies as she would every day, although today she was just by herself. "How can I help you, Miss Canary?"

"This is a strange question, but have any other crimes been committed against you in the past few weeks?"

"Crimes? Well..." she gave it a bit of thought. She didn't have to think long. "Thursday last week, 4.24 P.M., discovered missing perfume bottle; globe shaped. Saturday last week, 2.58 P.M., discovered three missing draws of Treacle Nut Surprise, Rose Blush and Melon Conundrum. Tuesday this week, 9.03 A.M., discovered missing perfume bottle again. Dolphin shaped," she nodded.

"That... that is a pretty impressive memory, miss," Rebby remarked.

"Oh... yes... I'm... like that," she blushed, knocking herself in the head with a hoof.

"And yesterday. Something went missing yesterday, didn't it?" said Canary, emotionless.

"Y...yes, how did you know? It was one of my new cloud puffers..."

Canary swung around to Rebby. "Berry? Go back and report to Staff Sergeant Blue Beat. Now. We're dealing with a sweeper."

"A... what?"

"I'll tell you later. Go."

Rebby, confused but still eager to fulfil her task, turned, exited, and darted off down the street, helmet blaring.

Canary turned yet again, back to face the worried Duriandal.

"Now. I have one last question to ask you. And this is very important. With your... ability of recollection I don't think we should have many problems here, but."

She gathered her thoughts.

"In the past few days, you would have had a customer. Someone who had always come but never bought anything. She may have hung around for periods, always looking, and usually holding items for a long time, but never buying."

"Yes... yes, I think there was somepony that sounds like what you mentioned. She was... a lilac Pegasus. Straight, light orange hair. Her cutie mark was... three stalks of Lavender. In fact, I think that's what her name was. Lavender... Lavender Trails. I'm sure of it."

"How do you know that?"

"Oh... oh gosh..." Duriandal's hoof flew to her mouth as she suddenly realised what happened.

"There was... someone else. Another pony. She was asking about her. I didn't think anything of it at the time. But she mentioned her by name. Asked me if I knew that lilac pony... I told her... I told her... all I knew... oh my... goodness... I... did I...?"

"No. No you didn't. You had nothing to do with this, you understand?" Canary said, severely. "Don't start thinking you ever are to blame for this."

Duriandal let out a breath of air from her nose. "Al... alright."

"Now this is the important part. This pony who was asking after this Lavender Trails. Do you remember anything about her? Anything at all?"

Duriandal nodded.

"Yes. I do."

"Tell me then."

"She was... a unicorn. I remember she was purple, and had straight hair... but she was wearing a sort of dark cloak and I couldn't see much else. I'm sorry."

"Did she by any chance... any chance at all... give you a name?"

"Yes... yes, actually she did. When she came in she introduced herself quite formally."

"What was her name?"

"She said her name was..."

"...Twilight Sparkle. She said it was Twilight Sparkle."

Author's Notes:

Hi there folks! This fic is my second fic, after 'Diaries of an Equestrian Overlord', and is considered a sort of semi-spin-off of the second bit, LunAsidE. I originally posted most of this story at EQD, which will get updates first, but I figured to put this here as well because it doesn't require a whole bunch of editing. That said though, It DOES look a lot better in PDF mode (and can be downloaded too!) and there's images and stuff. So here's the link to the original page at EQD, which has all the links to the individual PDF files.

http://www.equestriadaily.com/2011/10/story-these-city-walls.html

My original fic, and first one, can be found here and I can't put it up on these sort of fic sites due to editing.

http://www.equestriadaily.com/2011/09/story-dairies-of-equestrian-overlord.html

There is also a gallery which is related to this fic here: http://imgur.com/a/JBZpt
In case anyone wants to have a little look at some art I and other really wonderful people have done.

But enough pimping! Let's get to the story, and I hope you enjoy.

Wicked Stable Pt 2

The bell rang softly, gently, tinkling its dire purpose - the heralding of someone at the door of the shop. A lone, azure pony, white hair as curly and frothy as the clouds which surrounded her, looked up from her most important task with annoyance.

She hopped down off her lounger, and gently strolled the nimbus-lined floor to the entrance of her shop, at which was someone desperately attempting to get her attention.

Right in the middle of her crossword. How absolutely bothersome.

She opened the cloud door, stray wisps of smoke and condensation trailing as it flew ajar.

"Um..." said the pony behind the door, "Scroll for a Miss Breeze?"

Blitz Breeze's slightly annoyed demeanour changed.

"Oh... yes. That would be me," she said, courteously, never one to shoot the messenger. "Ah..."

The Pegasus courier reached into his saddlebag and thrust a large brown envelope into Breeze's waiting mouth. She placed it gently on the small Grecian-styled counter to the side of the door and then turned back to the courier.

"Ah yes... and how much do I owe you...?"

"Special delivery, ma'am. Paid by sender," the delivery pony ruffled his wings. "Good thing too, it came all the way from Canterlot. But you know. Buncha rich folk down there. Probably cost a pretty bit to have a within-the-hour sent out."

He shrugged. "Anyway, you have a good day now. And thank you for using PHL," he rattled, a line that sounded as if he said it a thousand times before and only meant it twice at the very most.

Paid by sender? Blitz thought. This isn't my copy of Sudoku Monthly, then? Drat.

She grabbed the envelope, walking back to her lounger in the middle of her workshop cum home. Various half-finished projects lay around in a disorganized manner; mostly sculptures, but some other various columns and furniture were also in the works.

She walked to her workbench, where she designed and created scale models of what would later become full-sized cloud architecture, and with a flick of her wing, tossed all the random blueprints and cloud-saws and spatulas off where they went 'poof' on the floor and sunk in a little bit, trying to force their way out of her little shop in Cloudsdale.

The chipped, tarnished and scratched surface of the wooden work-bench now empty, she placed the envelope upon it and opened it without much discretion. Holding it down with a hoof, she grabbed the label with a bite and yanked it open, avoiding ripping the scroll itself by mere portions of a centimeter.

Her haphazard ways were quite odd; being that when she worked she was usually more focused by a hundredfold, careful never to make a single mistake, and always meticulous in her planning. Never once did she have any returns, complaints or problems, and far be it for her to ever have to, perish the thought, re-do anything.

It seemed that she merely saved her focus for when it was truly required.

But this segmented concentration worked well for her, at least. She was quite well known in Cloudsdale for her fine art, and ponies always came to her for anything which required the most exquisite detail this side of Equestria. Also sometimes they needed chairs and stuff, which was cool.

The scroll, written on fancy paper, with the little hoof-drawn borders and the shiny silvery sparkles that twinkle when the light catches it just right, sat there, remarkably pretentious against its well-worn backdrop. It was written in cursive, too, blasted thing.

But Blitz recognized the hoofwriting, and the style, and most of all the fragrance.

It wasn't common that letters came with their own personalised scent, but hers did. That rather odd green Earth pony in Canterlot. The fish out of water. Had a peculiar mind, that one, and didn't have many friends, although not for lack of trying.

It was a few months ago when Blitz obtained the first of many of her odoriferous opuses, which she had, to her slight embarrassment, originally thought was some sort of bio-hazard. To this day she still didn't know if they were stinky on purpose, or just simply because the paper had been sitting in a place which generally absorbed the very essence of its surroundings

She did not want to think about how the store itself was like, in that case.

Pardon me, I need to open a window.

The edge of a metal, tined spatula, pointed to a V, shot out the side of the wall. Rather quickly, it carved a square-shaped hole and then retracted. With a little 'whomp' sound, the peg was pushed out of the hole where it dropped 3 meters and then slowly drifted away casually on the drafts. On the other side, Blitz Breeze took a deep breath, taking in the late afternoon air.

There we go.

She walked back to the scroll, and after all that laboriousness, began to read.

Short, sweet, and to the point. Even her pleasantries were written as if they were consciously aware that they served no true purpose. That was her, alright. All her communications since the start had been like this, but this was the first time where she asked to meet in person. Previously, they had a pretty standard consumer - provider relationship, in which Duriandal would ask for specific clouds of a specific nature and Blitz would simply just make them and send them off, receiving payment promptly.

And that was the entire nature of their relationship.

This letter threatened to change all that.

Well, it sounded important, she supposed. Drumming a hoof on the soft floor, she took a quick cursory glance at all the projects she had lined up. Well, nothing requiring completion anytime soon, and anyway, she had this new prototype Cloud Puffer that she was intending to send down anyway...

I guess it couldn't hurt.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Sergeant Canary kicked a tattoo of rhythm into the side of the desk where she stood, working on papers and other sorts of general police business. It was a bad habit, but one that relieved stress, much to the chagrin of the desk itself.

Her little section of the police floor was near the back, where the wall was, a place that she had to work for, Colt-damnit, and ponies be damned if she was going to let anyone get her sweet, cushy spot.

I mean, she had a window. A window! Well, it wasn't her window, but it was behind her, and that was good enough already.

Her desk was covered with papers of all kinds, a small plastic box full of paperclips that was never opened and was now collecting a fine layer of dust, pencils that were in dire need of sharpening, and a one single tiny framed photo of herself standing next to Constable Berry.

Berry had given her the photo frame as a gift when they first partnered up, along with the box of paperclips, so as to 'help Canary tidy up a bit'. Only one of the two remained regularly dusted.

Canary didn't have a family to speak of. She moved away at an early age to pursue her life of fighting crime, something that her strained parentage did not approve of, and she just simply became removed over the years. Sure, it was a cliché, but hey, it had to happen to somepony. Berry, on the other hoof, joined the force to protect her family, an ideology that Canary found both naive and hopeful at the same time.

But much more naive.

She looked around at the other faces of the small sub-station. About 20-odd ponies worked here, from the top brass in his office to the nice little filly at the reception desk with a lovely smile, everyone was part of this station and everyone worked together toward a common goal. There was a sense of respect in that, Canary always felt, and to her, this was her family, and this was her true home.

Even Berry, even Berry.

Even Berry who was now struggling with the paperwork, as usual, pencil rolling around through the air as she tried to figure out what information went where and as she tried to remember all the police codes necessary to correctly fill out the form.

Oh, she'd get it eventually - it'd just take a little longer than if Canary did it herself. Although, Canary had other things on her mind, and didn't really want to fuss with writing right now.

A lot of more important things called for her attention, and that was what she needed to concentrate on.

This murder, for example, It wasn't just a murder. It was the first in a series.

She dropped what she was doing, which was nothing much to begin with, and trotted over to the large whiteboard that sectioned off a large empty briefing space in one corner of the large office, upon which was stuck photographs of the crime as well as little notes that she had jotted down herself.

Up in the top left corner was a big '#1' written in marker, under which was placed that first message found at the crime scene - the message that betrayed intent, and gave clear indication of more murders to come. 'One has been freed', it said, cryptically yet clear.

Well, at this point, Canary knew there were some things that could definitely be said, some things that could be guessed, and some things that were just unknown. As it was with all cases, of course, this was the standard, but Canary still liked to run through it in her head as she went along. Helped to keep her on the straight.

And in her book, nothing could definitely be said. But there was always the next best thing.

What could be guessed, definitively, was that this was, as she mentioned to Rebby earlier, a case of a sweeper.

"So, sarge, what do you figure?" came a voice from behind her. Speak of the Berry.

Canary didn't turn to look at her. But thought for a while and then started speaking.

"Sweeper's a kind of serial killer," she explained. "Fancies themselves as a pony who does our job, but better."

"Our job, sarge?"

"They sweep the streets. Keep it clean. They target ponies in their eyes who are... spoiling society, so to speak."

"What, by killing them?"

Canary shrugged. "Yeah. Suppose it's the fastest and most efficient way. Sends a clear message too, to the public and to us."

"What's it s..."

"Don't be naughty or you're going to end up dead," Canary cut Rebby off, knowing exactly what she was going to ask already.

"And to us?"

Canary turned to look Rebby dead in the eye. "I'm better than you."

She turned back, to look at the photographs of the scene again. "At least, that's what they think. It's pretty standard for this kind of sociopath. They don't respect us policeponies because they think we're too weak. They think the law isn't effective, and they're just taking it into their own hooves to... help us clean up. They think they're doing us a favour."

Rebby thought for a bit, wondering if she should ask a question that was clearly dancing across a very thin line.

"Uh... but... well... what if... they... are?" she got softer and softer as the words came blundering out.

"What, if they're really helping us by 'removing' ne'er-do-wells?" Canary wasn't even upset. She expected Rebby to ask that question as well. One thing about an inquisitive mind; you never stop short of asking the hard questions, to her credit. "If it's a murderer killing another murderer, sure. I guess you could argue. We don't do that here, though, it's against Celestia's law. Goes against the principle of fairness and trial. But her."

She jerked her horn at the whiteboard. "She was a thief. Petty crime. A few days in lock up, maybe some grilling, maybe she won't do it again, turn out to become a productive member of society. Didn't deserve to be judged so harshly. At least, not in our eyes."

"But not by his, eh, sarge?" Berry referred to the murderer.

"Not by his," she shook her head slowly.

"So, got it all figured out?"

"Not just quite. There's something a bit different about this case than others," Canary's view scanned up again to the first photograph in the long line of memories of the scene. "The message."

"What about it, sarge?"

"Alright, how about you tell me?" said Canary, smirking a little on the inside.

"Oh, oh!" jumped Rebby, happy for the opportunity. "Uh... alright, so we have a guy who goes around killing to help us rid Canterlot of what he thinks are 'bad' people."

Canary didn't move or speak, her way of saying 'yes'.

"And we have a message... uh... saying that there's more to come, and this is just the first, right?"

Again, silence.

"So... it's... wrong... because..."

...

"Because...?"

"Who's the message intended for, Berry?" Canary dropped a hint.

Berry gave this a bit of thought. "Oh, for us, right? Because... if it were for the public, it'd be in a more public place, and the body would probably still be there."

"And also, the message would be clearer that the victim had done something wrong in the first place," Canary amended, "So the message is for us. Why's that strange?"

"Because messages directed toward law enforcement are meant as a taunt?"

Canary nodded.

"Oh, I see," Berry clicked. "If they thought they were doing our job, they wouldn't want to taunt us, would they? They don't get pleasure from challenging the established law, and they don't want to be caught."

"Heh," Canary said. "Sounds like you read that out of a book."

"Well, I did sarge, I just got to the chapter on signatures and symbols in the field guide, and..."

The doors burst open at that point, and hurried hoofbeats ran to the back, where Canary's desk was. She turned around, looking at the sudden intruder.

It was a damp, worried Pegasus, wings twitching as if they were on fire, eyes a little bit too wide and her spy-glass shaped cutie mark quivering up and down.

It was Quick Silver, the station's only spotter and a very good one at that. She handled reconnaissance and message relays, being an incredibly good tracker and a very fast flier to boot. Also she had a bit of a nervous streak.

She almost looked like a blur of silver skin and gold hair, the way she was trembling. Canary just looked at her with a measure of disdain.

She hummed an annoyance-dissipating song to herself under her breath, a tuneless, formless thing, as she walked over to the little Pegasus who could not be described as having a handle on the situation.

"Silver," she said.

"C.c.c..cc.c.canarrrryyy..." she warbled. "Wha... what what what have you got me into this tiiiimmme?"

"Calm the hay down, Silver," Canary stamped. "What's up?"

"You k..know... know that Twilight Sparkle character you had me scope..?"

"Yeah, I do. You found her, huh?"

"Y..yeah I found her.. and she's with... with with with company..." Silver trailed off, as Canary swung her head to the door.

There, standing, framed by the two globe lights that marked the entrance to any good police station, was a figure, pulled up at full height, with a very displeased look on her face.

And as she stepped in, one by one, all the ponies in the station bowed their heads and buckled the knee, in respect for Princess Celestia.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The door swung open in front of her. She hadn't even reached up to knock yet, nor did she know if it was appropriate in that setting. Usually the presence of police tape meant that you weren't exactly supposed to enter the place it was blocking. Usually it meant that if you did, you would probably get arrested and thrown into some sort of damp cell with three other unshaven uncouths with names like 'Brass Tacks' or 'Giant Tallywhacker'.

Not that it mattered now, though. The tape lay on the ground, one end still attached to the frame, but the other now free and attempting its own version of the freedom dance, thanks to a light wind that channelled up the street at this time of the evening. The pony that exited the door simply walked right into it, as if it weren't there, to meet Blitz Breeze as she touched down on the sidewalk.

They looked at each other in silence for a while.

The pale green pony in front of her just... stood there. As if waiting for something.

"Hi, I'm looking for a Miss Duriandal..." said Blitz finally, after the awkward tension could stand no longer.

"Yes, please, come in," said her opposite suddenly, standing aside and bowing lightly.

"Ah... al...right," Blitz said, quirking an eyebrow. She was exactly like she was in the letters.

She stepped in gingerly. The lights were all off. The setting had a sort of 'surprise party' kind of feel, or perhaps that weird green thing behind her was going to jump on her and do foul disgusting things, perish the thought. It was dark, and shadowy, and the air was musty.

She wasn't used to ground-level air; much preferring the cool constant zephyrs that altitude favoured. She let out a little cough, trying to peer through the gloom. This wasn't exactly the kind of welcome that she expected from a letter stating that there was a huge business proposition in the works.

The door came to a shut behind her as Duriandal pulled it close, yanking on two velvet tasselled cloths that were tied to the handles. The Earth pony way.

"Uh... I got your letter," said Blitz, still taking in her surroundings. The setting sun outside clashed with the bottles of perfume sitting on the central pillar, creating a kaleidoscope of blinking, winking colours, all tinged with a layer of red that enveloped the room. "Could... we... maybe turn up the lights please? And what's with the police tape?"

"Should... I be worried?" asked Blitz, worried.

"No. Lights are off for your benefit. Please, follow me," Duriandal intoned, straightforwardly. She trotted across the floor, jumping over a certain dark patch that wasn't too clear in this atmosphere, and continued onward to the rear of the shop. "Jump," she said, as Blitz reached that point herself.

Blitz just took to flight and hovered to where Duriandal was. Probably safer that way.

"Look, what is this all about?" Blitz said. "I hate to be erring on the side of caution, but this is all rather suspi..."

A hoof plunged into her face. "Shhhhhhhh," whispered Duriandal. "We'll talk upstairs. I don't think it's safe here."

"Wremm, oommfkmmm," said Blitz.

The rear door swung open, as they stepped through. There was a bolt on the other side, which latched close as soon as the door shut. And up the stairs they went.

At the top, it was much more cosy, calm, and befitting to a place one would feel comfort in. And it was very, very bare.

Wooden boards lay under a curved, domed roof. A circular white wall surrounded the entire floor, which was practically un-stained save only the staircase that led back down. Along the opposite end, directly across from the staircase's entrance, was a single bed, which was plain and white and did not offer much in the way of elegance, although it may very well be as comfortable as any regular bed.

On the left was a sort of home laboratory system of some kind. Beakers, test tubes and pipettes all lined up in a singular orderly row, with the spouts all facing the same way, along with plenty of other assorted science things and liquids in tubes. There was a little opening up in the roof, at that location, with a grate on it; some sort of exhaust vent no doubt. Next to it was a simple coat-rack, upon which was a white coat of some kind, and a pair of plastic goggles, which lay there doing nothing.

On the right was a plain table, upon which were scrolls of assorted sizes, a quill and an ink pot. An Earth pony, using a quill? That's... different. They usually didn't use them because... well, no one likes a feather in their mouth. The desk also held a bunch of other things that weren't worth mentioning.

Right in the center, hanging from the ceiling, was a little light that was adequate enough to brighten up the whole room.

There was nothing else.

It was quite clear that this pony was... different.

"This is your room?" asked Blitz, taking a look around.

"Yes," came the reply. Duriandal walked to an empty spot along the side of the wall, equidistant between the bed and the writing desk, and stopped. "You may place your... supplies here."

Blitz did as was requested, swinging off her saddlebags, full of tools, and plopped them on the floor in a heap. She came prepared, as she usually was.

Duriandal looked at the pile with an expressionless face, then slowly, very slowly, nudged it ten centimetres to the left. She looked back up at Blitz.

Blitz's expression was also one that couldn't be read clearly, but for rather different reasons entirely.

"Ah... hah," said Blitz. "You said you had a business proposition for me? And... what's with the dark lights downstairs? And what's with the police tape? Did something happen here?"

"I will answer your questions in order," said Duriandal. In the light, now that Blitz could get a good look at her, she seemed to be rather traumatized about something. She acted meek, she behaved with too much caution, and it wasn't clear if she was naturally this odd, but she was certainly acting quite peculiar. She kept looking down and away from Blitz, as if it hurt her to look her in the face, and her voice was very soft and high pitched, as a salespony would have when giving a presentation.

"Firstly, yes. I do. We shall go into elaborations after I have offered you a beverage and you are accustomed to your surroundings. Secondly, I turned off the lights so that you would not have to see the blood. Thirdly," she started rattling off at full speed. "A crime has occurred here which has caused blood to be apparent in the middle of my shop, thereby directly causing the subject of inquiries one and two. Fourthly, yes, many things have happened here, beginning with petty thefts and then cumulating to a homicide which occurred in my very shop. Now that we have covered your general questions, I will offer you a beverage before we start discussing business."

Blitz blinked. Repeatedly.

"Would you care for a glass of water, Miss Breeze?" Duriandal said, plainly.

"Ok... ok... slow down. You remembered all those questions? I don't even remember what I asked anymore!" Blitz shook her head. "But I would love a glass of water."

"I am... sorry," Duriandal looked away again, blushing slightly. "I am nervous. When I am nervous... I... get like... this."

"Ok now, in all of that, I caught the words 'crime', 'blood' and for some reason you said the word 'beverage' a lot. I think you have the right to be nervous. Now why don't we both get some water and let's talk about this slowly?"

Duriandal nodded, eyes flicking back and forth to the shadows outside the windows.

She then went over to her lab station, and filled up two beakers with water from some sort of squeezy bottle.

"Uh..." said Blitz.

"It is... pure water. I need to use distilled, pure water for my concoctions. It is perfectly safe to drink, and these are my drinking beakers; not used for experimentation."

Blitz's wing feathers ruffled.

"Alright, if you say so," said Blitz, grabbing a beaker by the rim and bringing it over to the middle of the room, where she settled down with Duriandal. "Um... here's ok, right?"

"Yes, here is fine," Duriandal said, sliding a coaster under Blitz's beaker.

"Ok, so... catch me up here. First of all, this business proposition? I have a feeling that it isn't really that much so, is it?" asked Blitz.

"No, it is a business proposition. But not one of which I have previously engaged you with prior to today."

"Alright, what's on the table?"

"I would like to pay you to spend the night with me." Duriandal said.

"What?"

"I wish to reimburse you for your company."

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to sleep with me in exchange for monetary compensation."

It wasn't getting any better no matter how many times she changed the wording.

"Ok, you want me to... keep you company for payment?" the fluffy-haired pegasus clarified.

"Yes. Was that not what I said?"

"No... not really. No. Nevermind. Look, first of all, you could have just said in the letter, why did you need to make it sound like a business thing? And secondly, don't you have any other friends?"

"Firstly," Duriandal replied, "Because it was the optimum way to get you to arrive. And secondly, no."

She answered with such plaintive fact-of-the-matter that Blitz was quite largely taken aback. She, someone whom had never formally met, whose entire capacity was the delivery of little Cloud Puffers, was this pony's single and only choice. But therein begged the question. What for?

"You do understand, at the very least, that this is a rather... irregular situation, yes?"

"I do. Which is why I am prepared to offer you money for your aid."

"That's not really... a consolation," said Blitz. "And you do not have any other options? Anywhere else you could stay? How about the police?" She pointed a hoof up at the sudden idea.

"Negative. They have denied me quarters at the station. They said that I should be safe, and that I was not the target of the crime. I still feel uneasy, and wish to have company. You are the... only... pony I know."

Now Blitz started to feel a little sympathy. How bad off was this pony that she was the only pony she knew? She would have asked about family, but if that wasn't immediately a consideration, she knew it would be pointless to ask in the first place.

Duriandal was staring down again, at her half-drunk beaker of purified water. The straw had a little droplet at the end, glinting in the light. The green pony seemed to be focused on it, as if it held all the answers to the night's problems.

"Alright. Well, this is... so weird," Blitz said. "But I'll bite. Alright. I'll... hear you out. At least for now. No promises, alright? But... maybe you better fill me in with some details. Like this crime you keep mentioning. What happened?"

Duriandal immediately opened her mouth to start talking. It seemed that she was eager, very eager, to get to this point to be able to share her story.

"And go slow," said Blitz.

"Go slow."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Oh Colt. What was this? Really. Honestly. Personal visit from the princess. Not like she has anything better to do, does she?

Sergeant Canary grit her teeth, and stared down the long floor to where the lord and ruler of all the lands was making a personal house-call to her very station. Everywhere, all over the floor, ponies went down at the knee with respect and veneration.

Even Staff Sergeant Blue Beat, who was usually hidden behind his office walls, make a special public appearance to join everypony in paying his dues.

All of them... save one.

Sergeant Canary stood fast, behind her desk, head tilted upward and at an angle, staring straight at Princess Celestia. The angle was to show her unimpressed stance on her being there, and the tilt, well, Princess Celestia was pretty tall.

Behind the princess, meekly peeking out once in a while, was a small purple Unicorn, with a straight fringe and a star on her flank. She smiled nervously to all those she passed, as if trying to apologize for their humility. Twilight Sparkle flowed in the wake of the grand lord of the parade, who had somehow found her way to the single one pony who wasn't giving her proper greeting.

"Sarge... what are you doing..." said Berry, under her breath and through clenched teeth. Her face nearly touched the ground. She didn't dare get up.

The rainbow of hair, flowing magically in the non-existent wind, stopped in the middle of the room. She regarded the ponies around her, and with a single stern, yet generous command, she gave, "Please rise," to the crowd, who did so with much relief.

And of course, the one whom the command did not apply to caught her immediate attention.

She stepped, in her graceful and sickeningly slow way, up to the desk.

"Sergeant," she said.

"Princess," Canary returned, gruffly.

"I understand that you are looking for Twilight Sparkle," she said, calmly. But there was a tinge behind her words. That kind of tinge that you can subtly catch if you're paying close enough attention. And everyone in the station had nothing else to do but cling onto her every syllable while Sergeant Canary buried herself. It was a tinge that bespoke of... irritation.

"Yes, ma'am, she's wanted for questioning in relation to the case that happened on HoneyLane."

"Do you not know that she is my personal pupil?"

"No, ma'am, I hadn't the faintest," Canary replied with challenge.

"And do you think that I would allow my personal pupil to be part of such an unspeakable act?" She placed a hoof on top of Canary's table. Although it was placed with such gentleness and poise, everyone else in the room felt like a bomb had been dropped. Silver felt like dropping a bomb of her own.

"Well, that's what we're here to find out, aren't we?" Canary placed a hoof on the table herself. They both leaned forward, the gap between their faces growing ever narrower.

Sweat started to trickle down the sides of many a pony that moment. The receptionist covered her mouth with her hooves just to keep from squeaking.

"And do you believe that I would relinquish my personal pupil that simply?"

Canary stood there, staring at the highest point of authority in the lands. Simply gazing, and studying, and thinking.

"To protect and serve ponykind. To protect lives and property. To pursue truth and justice, and to let no compromise keep me from my duty," Canary suddenly quoted. "You know these words, Princess?"

"I do. A small part of the PolicePony's creed."

"And you know then, who wrote those words?"

"I believe I did."

"And you would let yourself stand in the way of these words?"

Their faces nearly touched by this point. Berry was staring, wide-eyed, stunned and aghast. Silver was doing all she could not to fall over. Staff Sergeant Blue Beat was running through prospective replacements in his head for after Canary was blasted to the moon.

"I... will... ohhhhhh no no no!" Princess Celestia suddenly drew back, laughing as hearty as ever, a small tear dripping out of the corner of her eye. "Oh... oh... I can't. I can't. Ah... this is too much."

Canary smirked, and gave herself as much of a laugh as she would allow, which was nothing more than a 'heh' and a burst of air.

"Oh, at ease, at ease everypony," Celestia waved to the room, all standing there in quite a different sort of stunned silence. "Just a little joke, no problem, no problem, ah... my sides."

She struggled to get her breath back from the intense outburst of laugher she suddenly infected the room with. Twilight Sparkle just covered her face with her hoof in embarassment.

"Oh, oh, Canary, how are you doing, dear?" her normal cheerful demeanour had returned in spades, and all trace of the annoyance was entirely wiped away.

"I'm doing well," Canary replied. "How's the old castle?"

"Oh, not bad. Drafty. But you know. Anyway, to business."

"Yes, to business."

Princess Celestia stepped aside and let a very irked Twilight forward.

"Here she is, Sergeant. Twilight Sparkle, at your service."

And as the pleasantries ended, that same seriousness crept back into Princess Celestia's voice as she made it apparent now that what she was saying was important, and for real this time.

"Now, I understand, as it were, that someone has stated that Twilight here was the one responsible for the murder. It is a foul thing, and truly not something to make light of, but I do have every faith that you will be able to come to a reasonable conclusion."

She went on.

"And by reasonable I do mean that there is no doubt in my mind, not a single fraction, that Twilight Sparkle is anything but innocent of all charges made against her. But I understand the duty, and therefore you may question her as you will. Of course, I simply ask that you show her the same courtesy that you would show me if I were in the same position."

"Of course, Princess," Canary said, undoubtedly. "Wouldn't think otherwise."

"Now Twilight, go with the nice officer, and we'll have you home in no time."

If Twilight wasn't her normal bubbly self, it was only because this was the first time she was in a police station, and not to mention she was being accused of something quite serious indeed. She nodded to her mentor and took a walk behind Canary to a room that they had for interrogations.

Just before Canary stepped through herself, though, Princess Celestia caught her by the scruff and dragged her back.

"By the way," she whispered. "I was kidding. Grill her. Also, I want to watch."

Canary rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation. But she obliged, nodding to a door next to the one that Twilight had just entered. "Viewing gallery's through there, Princess. Knock yourself out."

Celestia totted over to the room, a gleeful sort of cheeky smile on her face.

And then, both doors shut, once again leaving the station in peace and quiet.

It occurred to every pony at that moment that none of them had actually moved or done anything since Princess Celestia first put one single hoof into the station.

There was silence all around.

Ponies looked at each other with bewildered expressions, and open jaws.

And suddenly the silence was broken.

"Ok, just what in the living hay was that all about?!" Blue Beat yelled.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"So let me get this straight," said Blitz.

"Yes." replied Duriandal, redundantly.

"Ah... ok. So. Um... first, you notice things going missing from your store."

"Yes."

"But, you didn't notice who took them from the start."

"Yes."

"And how is it you can remember so clearly what was missing but not figure out that it was the one single pony who was there all the time touching your things?"

"I count my stock hourly. I do not count the customers."

"... right," Blitz nodded. She had begun to slowly figure out how this pony worked. Certain things she could see very clearly, and certain things simply just passed her by right under her nose without a second's realization. She was like a lighthouse that was pointed the wrong way.

"But when the police lady asked you..."

"I remembered by recalling the times and looked for repeated patterns."

"As in the pony who was there fondling your stuff."

"Yes."

"And now she's dead."

"That is what the police say."

"And she was killed in your shop, downstairs?"

"That is what the police say."

"Did the police say you were a treat to talk to?"

"No."

"Well, I'm surprised," said Blitz. "Because you are something... else."

Duriandal frowned.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Something else besides what?" Duriandal asked, genuinely.

"Ah... it's a figure of speech. It means you're... ah... special."

"Yes. That is what people tell me."

Blitz sighed. What was she even doing here? Honestly, she didn't know this pony, she didn't really want to know this pony, and it was exasperating talking to her. On the other hoof, she couldn't but feel a little bit responsible, now that she was here and, you know, under the mitigating circumstances, and also the fact that this Duriandal pony was an absolute whack job and was likely to hurt herself if left alone with sharp edges.

She noticed Duriandal tapping slightly onto the floor during the silence. It wasn't a rhythm, it wasn't a pattern. It seemed like she was counting something. There were a lot of fives, some fours, intermittently a one or two, but always with a space between, and it seemed to be subconscious.

"What... is that, if I might ask?"

"What is what?"

"The tapping. What's the tapping for?"

"Oh, I am sorry... was it bothering you?" She asked, but actually did not stop the action despite her courtesy.

"Ah... no, but... I'm just curious, I suppose."

"I'm counting. The perfumes that I make. How much is left in each jar. One tap for one draw."

She continued the strange measures.

"You count them?"

"Yes, it helps me... relax."

"So this thing... about your memory... at the very least please tell me you know it's... odd."

"Yes, so ponies tell me," she answered, looking a bit sad in the process. Well, at least she had feelings.

"Well, I didn't mean odd like that. I just mean... It's really really good."

"No. Not really," she said, while tapping.

"What do you mean not really? It's pretty amazing. You can recall details, events, things... apparently you even know how much is in every single one of those, what, three hundred bottles..."

"... three hundred eighteen..."

"... down there, and, um, yeah, eighteen. And you say your memory isn't good?"

"Only the memory itself, as a benefit, is good. It is not good because it has left me with a lack in other... facets of my character. I am sure you have noticed."

Oh yes, she noticed.

The tapping abruptly stopped.

"Why'd you stop counting?" asked Blitz.

"I have reached the final jar," explained Duriandal.

Blitz Breeze scratched the back of her neck. She felt like she was in a room with a strange, foreign being. Someone who wasn't quite there. Someone who was made of clouds and made to move with magic... a copy of a pony. There was something... quite un-pony about her.

"You're not a robot, are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"No, nothing. Say. Uh... look what I got for you!" Blitz suddenly stood up, and rushed to her bags. "I actually brought this along because I thought that your business proposition was actually going to be about... you know, business."

Duriandal looked down at the floor again, behind Blitz's field of vision.

"But, look, check this out," she said, bringing over a small tiny sphere of a cloud. It was an orb, a bouncy, soft, wonderful puffy pillow of an orb, which sat on one flattened side and had a few miniscule holes lining the circumference.

"So remember how you were getting me to make your Cloud Puffer thingies? Well I had an idea one day, and I built this as a prototype."

"What... is it?" Suddenly, the world had brightened up considerably for Duriandal. She lifted the magnificent object in her hooves, examining it from all angles. It was like a curious child finding her first seashell, or in her case, a cat finding a lava lamp.

"Egocentric design, holes, perhaps, for emission. Latch on the top. Solid base to prevent movement. Equilateral distribution," she started rattling off to herself. "Impressive workmanship, high amount of detail, high crafting quality, extremely fine joints, mastercraft potential."

Oh, I could get used to you, Blitz thought. Just keep saying stuff like that. Go on.

"It is..."

Oh, she's figured it out, has she?

"It is..."

"Yeah, well, I thought it would make a good addition to..."

"I have no idea what it is," Duriandal smiled.

Blitz fell over.

"Ugh, ok, ah. Let me show you. Go on and get some of that stinky perfume stuff you have. Spare stuff. I don't want you to use your good stock and have to start counting again."

Duriandal nodded, excitedly. She got up and walked to her lab, and with a few tinks and clinks later, she produced a small vial of clear red liquid, with small black globules suspended within.

"Watermelon Whimsy," she said happily. "A new scent I am working on."

She held the vial on the end of a set of metal clasps, the end of which lay sticking ceremoniously out of the side of her mouth, like a little pipe. It was all rather cute, really.

Also, sometime during that whole event she had managed to put her lab coat on. Blitz didn't even see it happen, although to be fair, she was busy readying her little device.

"So, right here. See this opening on the top?" Blitz fluttered her wing at the orb, which had a little flip top now open. "Just put some of that... stuff you have in it."

Duriandal nodded, the mixture bubbling in the vial. Slowly, with all care and no haste, she tilted her head and emptied the vial into the opening. It was just enough.

"Alright! Now..." Blitz slapped the lid shut. "And you push this..." she hit a button on the side. A cloud button. Yes. Don't question it.

Suddenly the device sputtered into life, whirring with some sort of internal mechanism. It grinded and shuddered, as much as two clouds grinding could sound like, and then small wisps of scented mist started to leak out the holes along the perimeter, infusing the room with the sweet, sultry smell of watermelon.

"Hey, that's pretty nice, actually," commented Blitz. "What is that stuff you're always putting in the letters you send me anyway? That stuff's really strong."

"Um... it's sandalwood," said Duriandal.

"Sandalwood."

"Yes."

"You put... the smell of wood... on paper?"

"Yes."

Blitz shrugged mentally. Alrighty then.

"Well anyhow, this thing here'll keep your room smelling nice and fresh for hours. It's made to release fragrance at a slow steady stream, and one full 'dose' will get you about a day's complete run. Of course you can turn it off whenever you like, and to wind it up you just have to turn the top like so..."

She reached out with a hoof to display her diffuser-winding skills, but a rather different noise occurred that made the whole thing topple over, spilling the oil to the floor.

"Oh no, my floor!" yelled Duriandal.

"Wait! Quiet!" hissed Blitz, her mind suddenly on edge. "You didn't hear that?"

"No, my floor, my floor, I need to get a towel..."

"Quiet!" She clamped a leg around the struggling Duriandal. Both of them sat there, huddled up against each other, nothing but the crickets and the wind to talk to them.

The second time it happened, it was much clearer.

Thud.

"What was that what was that what was that?" shrieked Duriandal. "It came from the roof! What was that?"

Thud. Thud. Thud thud thud.

It was the clear sound of walking. Four hooves beating out a tempo on the roof of the shop. Duriandal threw
herself into the legs of the elder pony.

"Blitz... please... help... what is that...?"

"Ok, calm down, it could be anything. It could be anything at all."

And it was anything.

An eye dropped down in front of a window. It was piercing, black, and it had a lack of things that gave it the nature of an eye, like a soul.

It was outlined in a bright, glowing red, and in the middle, a pin-prick of blood shot through the room as the thing stared straight at the two ponies, cowering and shaking in each other's hooves.

But it was the smile. The smile on the pale face of the creature, the smile that looked like someone had torn a hole in an oil painting and left it there. The smile that looked like, as it grinned at the couple, flesh was still binding it together here and there in patches, like a Halloween pumpkin gone terribly wrong.

And just as suddenly, its eye shifted, changed. It didn't move; it slid. It seemed to be staring off at something in the far distance, and just as suddenly as it had arrived, it was gone.

And the two ponies had nothing left to say. The words had drained out of their mouths, their tongues could produce no sound.

All there was left was two ponies, alone in a room, on an oil-slicked floor, holding onto each other with the knowledge that that was the only real thing left that would keep them safe.

Neither of them closed their eyes.

Neither of them went to sleep.

And together they stayed, until the break of morning.

Wicked Stable Pt 3

The room was empty and bare. It was a little bit beyond bare; it was purposefully neglected. All that existed was a long table placed a little bit off-center of the square cubicle, one long side close to a naked white wall.

The other walls shared a similar dress code save the one directly opposite, which had a suspiciously large mirror taking up more than 80% of its face.

And a single table lamp was all that was left to decorate the interrogation room.

The tabletop had plenty of stains - mostly rings caused by perspiring cups of water, or mugs of coffee that had dribbled down the side. Some other stains were helped into creation by the more un-talkative of suspects, or the ones who thought that picking a fight in the middle of a police station was any sort of a good idea.

While they didn't practice violence over there at the local precinct, they sure knew how to defend themselves.

"Is that a two-way mirror?" Asked Twilight, standing on the side of the table with less space.

"Yeah," replied Canary. "Also they can hear whatever we say so I'd watch it if I were you."

There really wasn't any point in hiding, by Canary's reckoning. It was kind of obvious what that thing was, and ponies always asked anyway. It was just something you do when you get into a place like this.

"So... eh... heh heh..." Twilight chuckled nervously. "What... can I do for you, officer?"

"Where were you last night?" Canary started to pace the floor.

"Um... well... Spike and I... Spike's my dragon, by the way, he and I were in the library... that's my house... the library in Ponyville, where I live... ah..." Twilight thought hard, trying to grin her worries away as she usually did when she was in an uncomfortable position. "And I was studying..."

"Studying?"

"Mythological history."

Canary rocked her head side to side with raised eyelids as if to say, what now?

"Mythology," Twilight repeated. "The study of old stories... and legends..."

"And this Spike, can he back up your alibi?" Canary didn't even pretend to care.

"Uh... sure!" Nodded Twilight. "He was packing up my books and stuff at the time. He's such a hard worker, you know? And he... um... yeah..."

Canary was staring at a corner of the room like a fresh hot pepperoni pizza was just sitting there. Colt, she could go for a steaming pizza right about now.

"And did you murder anyone yesterday?" she asked, not taking her eye off the corner.

"What? No!" exclaimed Twilight. "I couldn't do such a thing, I mean, I have so much research to do!"

Canary then shot a glance toward the weak-kneed purple pony.

"Not... that I'd do it anyway?" she grinned again, sheepishly.

There was silence as Canary's eyes wandered, once again, as she thought about nothing at all. That kind of thought where you just think of the thought itself to get it over with.

"Yeah, alright, you can go." Canary waved, walking toward the exit.

"What... that's it?"

"Yeah," she reconfirmed. "You can stay here if you want to. I'm getting outta here."

Twilight remained for a while, scratching her head in puzzlement.

Both Canary and Twilight jumped a bit when a sharp rapping sounded out from behind the wall with the mirror.

Canary sighed.

"Actually," she said, turning over her shoulder to look at Twilight as she left. "You stay here for just a minute. I'm gonna go... talk to someone."

Twilight stood, alone and cold, in the room.

"Um..." she said, to no one in particular. She really wished she had a book right now.

As Canary left the room not even three minutes after she entered, all eyes followed her as she made a quick turn and headed directly for the viewing gallery.

"Canaaaary," said a voice as she went by. It belonged to Staff Sergeant Blue Beat, the heavily facial-haired head of the station. He sat behind his frosted glass walls in his office most of the time, handling administration and paperwork duties, and taking care of the overseeing of cases in particular. He had a bad feeling this was one case that was slowly slipping out of his hooves.

"I'll explain later, Beat," she said, walking by.

Blue beat gruffly snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Just reminding you that you owe me a big one."

The gallery door swung open magically, and Canary stepped in, joining Princess Celestia who was simply, for lack of a better term, spying on Twilight Sparkle in the adjoining room. The door shut, leaving them alone.

"That was it?" asked Celestia. "Oh, I had expected so much more from you, Canary."

Canary felt a deep well of resentment swell up on the inside. It wasn't for the Princess, nor for her personal wishes, but it was rather, directed toward herself, for something that she had reminded herself about.

But she swallowed it down.

"Just doing my job, Princess," she said. "This is a pretty important case, you know. You wouldn't have sent those... guards of yours otherwise."

"Oh, alright," Princess Celestia submitted. "But just this once, ok?"

"Right, Princess," said Canary, watching Twilight through the window. She had started to play with the button on the lamp, switching it on and off rapidly. "Look, that's not... a murderer. Like you said earlier, she's your pupil, right? For... something..."

"Magic," Celestia clarified.

"Magic, yeah..." Canary absorbed. "That fancy school of yours. Personal pupil. I highly doubt she's got anything to do with it."

"You're not just saying that because of me, are you?" Celestia's presence exploded in the room when she said that. She had this thing about her.

"No," said Canary. Twilight had now pushed too hard and the lamp had toppled over. She was looking around nervously, as if trying to figure out if the ponies behind the mirror were watching her, as she magically floated the lamp back into place.

"She..." Canary tried to find the right word. "She's a dork, Princess, no offence."

Celestia snickered.

"But there's something else though, much more worrisome," continued Canary.

"Oh?"

"I didn't know that Twilight Sparkle, esquire, was your pupil, but somepony sure did."

Celestia nodded. This had crossed her mind as well, it seemed.

"From the original assessment, it seemed that the murderer, whoever he or she is, was rather explicit about mentioning Twilight's name. It was quite purposeful, I feel, as if it were a message of some kind."

Yet another message? Canary just said that, but mentally took a note anyway. You sometimes come across new thoughts like that while talking in general, and it never hurts to over-run all possibilities. That's how true police work is done, the Canary way.

"Might be they're trying to get to you, Princess," Canary wrapped it up.

"It is certainly a possibility," said Celestia. "I do not know if I have any enemies who are willing to commit such foul deeds just to get to me, but I'm sure you can't discount any avenue, yes?"

"Not a one, Princess. Either way, I know this is out of my bounds, but please look out for yourself, ma'am. Just in case."

"Just in case," Celestia agreed.

The princess tapped her hoof on the ground.

"Well, I ought to be getting back to the castle," she mused. "I need to take care of Luna."

"Luna, ma'am?"

"My sister?"

"Oh, right," Canary suddenly remembered. "That thing a while back ago with the thing. She's... doing well?"

"Oh yes, very much so. We are coming along ever so nicely. She's still adjusting, of course, the poor dear, but she was just simply misguided."

"Well, then to business for both of us?"

"But I've come all this way," said Princess Celestia, suggestively, a pleading look in her eyes.

Canary felt that sort of welling feeling again, deep in her chest behind her heart. It swelled like a balloon, threatening to pop and make her lose composure.

"I... really can't, Princess. I'm sorry. But I'll see what I can do, alright?"

"Alright, Canary. I'll be here."

"I'll be in contact, Princess," Canary quickly left, shutting the door behind her again. She breathed a slow sigh of relief. This... woman. She would never understand how somepony so benevolent and so kind could have hidden this rather outrageous side of pranksterism. She supposed being Princess for this long meant you had to find a way to escape from going insane, and she was just doing what kept her entertained. It mustn't be easy, being at the top. Not at all.

"Cannnnaaaarrrryyy..." came the same gruff voice from before.

"Alright, alright, your office. In five. I need a drink. Also..." she scanned the station floor, where things were slowly getting back to normal. "BERRY!"

"Yeah Sarge!" she quickly appeared, out from behind a filing cabinet.

"Get in there." Canary jerked a horn.

"What?"

"Interrogation room. Get in there. You always wanted to conduct one yourself, right? Get in there. Now."

"Oh! Uh... alright," Rebby flustered around. "Do I need my helme... no I don't. Ah, I'm going!"

Constable Berry burst through the door, to Twilight's shock, a determined and mean look on her face.

And behind a two-way mirror, a princess smiled.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

It had been a good half-hour since they last moved. They had last moved just before seeing that thing behind one of the windows of the shop, and right now cramps were starting to seethe and burn into both of their sets of front legs.

Duriandal had her face pressed up close against Blitz's chest, eyes peeking out the side at the wall. Her legs were wrapped around Blitz as if she were an oversized stuffed toy; a security blanket for an over-aged child.

Blitz herself, being older and with this overzealous need to be responsible, was sitting upright and had her own legs wrapped around Duriandal's head, comforting her. Her own eyes were stuck fast to the window, as if keeping constant watch would prevent its return.

"Duri?" Blitz whispered, cutting the silence like a hammer smashing a pane of glass.

She didn't respond.

"Duri," Blitz repeated. "I think it's ok."

Again, there was no verbal response, but Blitz could feel Duriandal shaking her head slightly against her body.

Five minutes passed.

"Duri, I can't feel my legs," Blitz said, plaintively.

Another five went by.

"Duri, I think the oil's staining your fl..."

There was a sudden bounce of resistance, as if they were two magnets of equal poles suddenly brought into proximity. But despite that, Duriandal kept on holding fast, unable to decide which was more important to her at that particular moment.

"Oh my goodness, it's leaving some kind of weird stain," continued Blitz, with a very unenthused voice.

Again, that sort of indecisive movement occurred, but this time with much more force and much less hesitation.

"Oh. Look at that. I dare say it will be permanent."

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggg!" came a little sound from Duriandal, like a rat trying to lift weights. It came from the back of her throat as her compulsions became an angry kangaroo, kicking her brain in all the soft wobbly bits.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" she cried, suddenly peeling herself off Blitz, continuing that constant, high-register wail as she ran to her workbench and grabbed a bucket that lay beside it. The wailing continued, albeit muffled, through clenched teeth as she ran the bucket by the handle to the oil spill, where it was slowly setting into the wood.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh! AHHHHHHH!" tears were streaking down her cheeks. It was a mix of a lot of raw emotions that suddenly came into play; such as this uncontrollable force that made her expose herself in the face of potential danger, as well as the possibility that her precious floorboards might forever be tarnished.

Blitz felt a bit guilty, but that was soon sent into distraction as the tingle of blood rushing back into cut-off limbs started to overwhelm her from the shoulders down.

"Oh... argh... ahh..." moaned Blitz, trying not to move exessively.

"Ahhhhhhh!!!" screamed Duriandal, squeezing some solvent onto the oil with a sponge. She gently nudged Blitz out of the way, who was menacingly close to the puddle.

"Ouuauarrrgggghhh!!!" screamed Blitz as her needle-pricked legs hit the ground.

"Ahhhhhhh!!"

If anypony were to enter the scene now, their immediate reaction would probably be to make a hasty departure.

Duriandal scrubbed down the floor to a sheen with a rag, which was eventually returned to the bucket of supplies along with the sponge. She only took a moment aside to ruffle her hair again, in frustration, before running the bucket back to its exact original place.

"Uhhhhhhrrrrghhh," her single-toned cry started to die down as she ran back to the middle of the room and flopped down next to Blitz, looking remarkably like a sort of bear skin rug.

"You did that on purpose," the rug accused, trying to catch her breath.

"Well... yeah..." muttered Blitz, through the control of her own irritation, "But I had... no... other... choice..."

A limb swung out and smacked Blitz in the right foreleg.

"Nnnnnnnngggggg!!!" she cringed, twisting up into some kind of macabre statue. "O...kay... I... deserved... that...."

"Look..." she continued, inching away from Duriandal with minimal movement. "It's... ok, alright? Nothing... happened, and nothing will... It's all going to be... fine."

"You do not know that."

"Yeah, I don't. I really don't. But we can't leave, and we can't just stay still for the rest of the night," Blitz massaged some life back into her arms. "This... place... it's a pretty busy street, from the looks of things? Ponies will be around really early and as soon as it's safer, we'll get out and find some help with the police, alright?"

The building was cast into the quiet of night again, as both ponies mused on the thought. It truly didn't seem like that thing was returning, but it was never something of certainty. At the most, Blitz decided, they could try to prepare for the worst, and being extremely stressed out and vulnerable was not a step in the right direction.

"Look," she said. "If that thing wanted to hurt us, it'd have by now. If it hasn't already come in, it probably either can't or doesn't want to. We don't know who... or what... we're dealing with, so maybe we should just... get on with the night," Blitz suggested. She didn't really believe it much herself, but at least if Duriandal bought it, maybe that could help with the self-assurance.

"I'd... invite you back to my place, but... well," Blitz kept on trying. "It's up in Cloudsdale, and it's not stable for non-pegs, I'm afraid."

...

"Um... so... what do you do for fun around here?"

...

"I like to do puzzles."

...

"And I love snacks. Don't you love a really good snack? There's this bakery right across the street from my shop up in Cloudsdale, and it's fantastic."

...

"You like... numbers, right?"

...

"Have you heard of something called Sudoku?"

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Her hoofbeats echoed off the walls of the office as Canary stepped in, gingerly, after Staff Sergeant Blue Beat.

Canary stood to, an air of nervousness around her, fixing herself at attention in front of Blue Beat's desk, head held high and proud.

She couldn't help but give a quick once-over of the office, though. It was in her nature to do so everywhere she went, and to quickly come to certain conclusions which may or may not be too quickly made.

It was a chilly, bureaucratic office, one that gave no trace of personality nor emotion. There were no photos on the desk, diplomas hung proudly on the wall, nor even a coat rack. Blue Beat left his hat outside with the rest of the station.

He had always felt that separating his professional and personal life was of utmost importance in a job like this. If they couldn't get to his family, they couldn't get to him, as he'd learnt from many cases in the past. And thereby most of him remained a mystery to the rest of the station.

Especially so was he a mystery to Corporal Canary, who had transferred there only a day ago.

Staff Sergeant Blue Beat went over the open folder that lay on his desk in front of him, nestled amongst a pile of other paperwork and odd bits of torn scraps adorned with hastily-jotted notes. He read it carefully, slowly, every once in a while looking up at the stoic body of Canary, who didn't so much as move a single hair on her tail.

"Uh... at ease, Corporal," he coughed, returning to the file. Canary breathed out, relaxing only ever so slightly.

"Says here... Blue Canary?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"No relation, sir. Common name."

"Well, you're just 'Canary' from now on, got it?"

"Yes sir."

Blue Beat let loose an air of indignation and went back over the file.

"Commendations... recommendations... top officer two years in a row... why the request to transfer?"

"Sir, I found the challenge of my old posting inadequate to befit my level of exposure, sir," Canary recited.

Oh so, she was prepared for this, thought Blue Beat. Let's put on the pressure.

"What?" he threw.

"Sir, I found the challenge of my old pos..."

"What?" Blue Beat asked again, this time with a razor in the tone.

"... Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Coltdamnit, Canary, just speak English, if that's not too hard for you?"

"Sir, yes sir. I was... bored, sir."

"Didn't like the countryside," Blue Beat stated.

"No sir."

"Too quiet?"

"Yes sir."

"All that fresh air and butterflies and everything too hard for you?"

"No sir."

"Then what?"

"Sir, I feel that my level of knowledge and expertise can be put to better use in this branch, sir."

"Oh, it's expertise now, is it?"

"Sir, I am sorry sir, I did not mean to sp..."

"Alright, tell you what, Corporal. Since you're so eager to show off your... expertise, how about we give you a little assignment? Something easy, to start off. Show off what you can do."

"Yes sir."

Blue Beat flicked open a drawer on his desk with a little bit of magic. The bottom drawer.

The bottom left drawer.

He reserved all the impossible tasks for that drawer. It only had a very few folders in it, but they were always the ones that had to be either assigned very carefully, or very casually depending on the situation. The rest of the station called it the doom drawer, because if you ever had anything from it, you were doomed to fail.

And everypony knew that. You wouldn't even get chastised by Blue Beat for failing. He'd just expect your best and he knew everypony in the station would do that.

Canary didn't know it, though.

He pulled out a brown paper flippy folder thing, marked with red on the cover as 'urgent', flying it across his desk toward Canary's face.

Canary only barely intercepted it with her own magic and left it to hover in front of her.

"There. Read it, do it. It's tomorrow. Don't fail. Dismissed," Blue Beat said, returning to his own work right in front of Canary's face.

"Yes sir," Canary confirmed, clicking her heels and turning for the door.

"Oh and... Canary," he said, as she left.

"Yes sir?"

"Impress me."

---

Ok. This. This was annoying. This was highly, highly inappropriate. This was an indignation, and this was just... what was this?

Canary stood in front of the outer portcullis of Princess Celestia's Royal Castle, in full dress uniform, shiny metal hoof boots clacking on the lowered drawbridge.

She wanted to frown, ever so badly.

This was her first assignment?

Back in the station, yesterday, she read through the documents... twice. The first time to understand it, and the second time because she thought she didn't the first time.

To sum it up, it was pretty straightforward in writing, but definitely not in execution. She was to go to the Grand Galloping Gala that year, by herself, as a representative of the 5th Precinct, to secure some 'extra' funding from Princess Celestia.

Oh yes, how very worthy of her expertise.

She was a pony originally assigned to the countryside just outside of the Canterlot city walls, having found absolutely no challenge in finding the odd lost sheep once in a while, and hanging about drinking tea for the rest of the time. She had no idea what it would be like in the big city, but she reckoned it must be better than what she had. Maybe she was a bit over her head.

One week ago she put in an application for a transfer.

Yesterday she was standing in the middle of a station nearly five times the size of her old one.

Today she was standing in the middle of the grand hall of Celestia's Castle, queuing up, queuing up, to shake hooves with the Princess.

This was a test. It must be. You don't just throw brand new transferees into the thick of things. This is a trial by fire. This is a trial by bloody big hot roasting fire. This is a trial by jet engine.

She kept analyzing the whole situation to keep herself busy as she shuffled through the line, which was slow moving enough, but just a little bit faster than the lines at the theme park she went to as a child.

She forgot when she stopped going to theme parks. Probably the same time she stopped smiling. There really wasn't anything to smile about in life.

She reached the end of the line, and there, in front of her, at the top of the central staircase, was the gorgeous, gracious, glowing dame mother of the entire freaking country.

It was the first time, and only time, Canary truly froze.

The edges of her mouth protested as she forced them to curl upward in some sort of uncomfortable grin. For all intents and purposes, someone could have been sticking a crossbow in her back and forcing her to dance against her will.

"Oh, a Corporal this time?" said Princess Celestia, breaking first ice. She had an unnerving smile of her own. It was also pretty fake, by Canary's analysis, but it had a different sort of intent behind it. You could hide a million things behind a smile like that. Some of them might even be genuine.

"Yes, ma'am," Canary saluted, the only thing she felt appropriate in that situation. "Corporal Blue Canary of 5th Precinct, reporting."

"Blue...? As in Staff Sergeant Blue Beat?"

"No relation, ma'am."

"Ah, I see. Common name," she nodded in understanding, "Usually they send someone with quite a few more stripes, but I see they've skimped this year, hmm?"

"Ah... no ma'am, not at all," Canary quickly made up, "They have simply chosen the one they deemed most adequate for the assignment."

"Oh, I see," Princess Celestia mused. "So coming to the gala and meeting me is just an 'assignment' then?"

"Ah... yes ma'am. I mean no! I mean... uh... it's not an..." Canary started to fluster.

"Oh calm down," Celestia giggled, "I'm just teasing. Enjoy the party, please."

"Ah... thank you ma'am. Thank you for your graciousness," Canary bowed deeply and clicked her heels again.

"Do try the quiche," she said, watching the deflated Canary stumbling down the stairs.

That was all the time Celestia had for her, thank goodness, the line of ponies behind her growing by the minute. It was smart that she arrived relatively early, as she made her way to the ballroom where the food was.

Ah, food. Good Colt, I could do with some food. Doughy steaming pizza, delicious fried mushroom caps and chilled carrot ratatouille and what the hell was this.

Firstly, why is everything on these strange silver platters, and why are they stacked up on layers, and why are they so small? Are we supposed to not eat these things? Canary remembered the end-of-year parties that they threw back in her old precinct out in the countryside. There was no end to the food, the drinks, and the merriment. Even Canary herself would get into the mood if persuaded and could be found actually talking to some of her colleagues about general non-work-related gossip.

At this party, you couldn't tell the difference between the food and the decor. The bouquet that stood central in the middle of the buffet table looked more appetizing to Canary than what else was on offer.

What the hoof is a canapé? Petit fours salés? What, you're supposed to eat four at a time just to get enough of a mouthful? These little section labels didn't help her a bit. Whatever happened to simple words like 'appetizers' or 'soup'?

Oh, forget this, Canary thought. I'll just mingle. That's right, my best skill. Mingling. Of course, to Canary, the definition of Mingling was to stand in the darkest corner of any given room and stare at everypony who passed by as if they did something horribly wrong, and make sure everything was in tip top shape and behaviour was at its best.

There were no dark corners in this room. Also, it was fairly huge. Canary suited herself to stand next to the large ice sculpture that was placed under a large cloth banner that hung down from one of the balcony's balustrades. She looked up at it. It was the imposing figure of a walrus, or something. Canary hadn't the faintest idea.

"Oh, hello again," came a voice from behind her. She turned, and at the sight of Celestia, yet once more, she gave her usual quick salute and stood at firm alertness.

"You're not at work," Celestia said, gently. "You can enjoy yourself, you know."

"I am, ma'am," Canary replied, "Pardon my affront, but were you not only just recently meeting guests?"

"Oh, I got bored," said Celestia quite plainly, tilting her head as if to say just so. "I always feel that if you get bored, sometimes a change of pace is necessary to ease the tension, as long as it doesn't hurt anypony."

Canary nodded at that. There was a certain truth it in that she couldn't really deny.

"And I'm just making my rounds. Did you try the quiche?" she suddenly remembered.

"Ah... yes..." Canary lied. "It was... nice."

"And how are you finding the party?"

"It's... great."

"Do you like the ice sculpture of me?" Celestia nodded to the big melting thing beside Canary.

"Oh... magnificent," Canary's head started to nod in all directions randomly. "Absolutely..."

"It's a walrus," said Celestia.

"...very walrusy," Canary finished. She hadn't had her guard up like this in years.

"Just between you and me, I had it made just to see if anypony'd notice," Celestia smiled again, hushing her voice.

"It... did cross my mind," admitted Canary.

"Glad to see our policeponies are as observant as ever," said Celestia, as she surveyed the room herself, "But I'm afraid I must leave you to your... socialising. Back to the grind, as they say."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you ma'am."

Celestia brushed past her and walked off to talk to some other important-looking ponies in the crowd.

"Oh, and actually try the quiche," she commanded in leaving. "They're the little round things that look like topless pies."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The book, one of many that Blitz brought with her everywhere she went, was brand new, and was now nearly three-fifths finished.

200 Sudoku Puzzles: Super Hard, by Sakura Bonsai.

Sakura Bonsai. Right. That was just an extremely cheesy pen name for the 4 or 5 Unicorns using magic to generate a bunch of puzzles that were specifically crafted to be deviously difficult. You know, super hard.

Something that Blitz had worked her way up to, from 'easy challenge' all the way through 'intermediate' and onto this book, which she had just purchased from the bookstore not two days prior to this point.

And Duriandal was there, scribbling furiously, as she tore through them like a fork through an extra-crumbly plaice fillet.

She didn't know how to do them, you know. She didn't know what one was. She had to read the instructions.

Life is so unfair.

In fact, a half-hour ago when the green bolt was tackling puzzle #64, Blitz almost had a nefarious wave of pride when Duriandal actually stopped to think for more than a minute, but it was only because she had written too fast and that 3 looked like a 2 in that box there, and it was sorted out after a quick do-over.

Blitz's eyes had nearly dried out from staring at her go.

"Feeling better?" she asked, cautiously. As she went on, Duriandal seemed to get more and more possessive of the book.

The sound of pencil scratchings on a page was her only reply.

"Maybe we ought to save some for later... and for me..." she slid a hoof across the floor toward the book.

"Mmmmmmmm!!" came an angry grunt, like a stubborn child who wouldn't share her doll. Duriandal swept the book away, face on the floor, like a guard dog ready to attack. She stared up at Blitz, through narrow eyes and a furious look, pencil trembling between her teeth.

"Alright! Alright!" Blitz backed off. At least she wasn't troubled anymore. Not... as troubled, anyway. "I'm going to charge you for that in the next invoice, you know," she grumbled, under her breath.

Looks like she was free to explore her surroundings, so to speak. She wasn't about to unlock the door, though, and approaching the windows was a bit of a foolish idea, so she was stuck with this little round jail that Duriandal called home, but she wouldn't even call a waiting room.

Best to find out a bit more about her new 'friend', then.

Blitz walked to the side where Duriandal's laboratory equipment was; the thing that caught the most attention in the room. Every so often she looked behind her to see if Duri would take offense at her prying, but she seemed far too engrossed in the book.

I'll take that as an open invitation, then.

The lab table wasn't on the small side, but it wasn't a full utility's worth of stuff either. It seemed just right, as one would expect from somepony like Duriandal.

Also as expected were beakers and flasks of all kinds, lined up from left to right along the edge of the table, all of them equidistantly placed and all of them ordered by size. The ones that actually contained some kind of liquid had their own part of the table to call their own, and right in the center was some sort of apparatus for mixing and shunting and whatnot, with the tubes and the dripping funnel things that Blitz had always seen before but never knew the name of.

It really looked like something out of a cartoon, and to be honest, Blitz had no idea what anything did, nor how it all came together to cause the eventual production of perfume.

Heating and cooling was definitely involved, however, as she noticed a Bunsen burner, and what apparently was a miniature fridge next to the table. She wondered if the fridge contained any food. She was getting quite peckish indeed, having skipped dinner to babysit.

Actually, come to think of it, did Duriandal eat at all? She hadn't complained about it, her stomach was certainly not making any tell-tale signs of starvation, and...

Maybe...

Maybe she was a robot...

No, no. Blitz quickly put that out of her head. No. There's definitely a sandwich or something in the fridge.

Making a quick check again to see that Duriandal wouldn't mind her rifling through her private coldbox, she pried it open by the easy-catch handle and had a look inside.

And there, amongst all the beakers full of various assorted potions was a half-sandwich, with the crusts cut off, in a triangular shape, sitting calmly in the middle of a plate.

Well thank Colt, thought Blitz. Out of curiosity she pried it open to see what sort of filling Duri fancied.

It was empty.

Blitz licked her teeth, sucking at them a bit in contemplation.

There is the very strong possibility that the sandwich's previous contents were liberated by a bunch of very industrial and very clever ants.

Yes, that must have been it.

She closed the fridge and went back to the room.

Behind her, Duriandal had hit puzzle number #184.

Her sleeping area was no better. The bed, for lack of better word for it, looked like someone had constructed it out of empty cardboard boxes and plumbing parts, and then had thrown a mattress on top just to give the illusion that was something to sleep on.

She reached up gingerly and patted the pillow. Well, alright, to be fair, it was soft, and downy, and certainly nothing like sleeping on a 1,999 bit raincloud bed that was a very good investment, I don't care what you say, but still, beds should be elegant. Beds, Blitz always thought, reflected the character of the individual. If you were a princess you slept in a huge four-post bed with curtains because you were fancy and needed privacy. If you were like me, you'd sleep on a lovely bouncy cloud bed because you love your comfort, and sometimes you get a bit angry when you don't know the 11-letter word for 'act of consumption' that starts with 'D' (Deglutition) and it makes you want to jump on things.

She really couldn't tell what this bed represented; although for all intents and purposes it was built for one and only one.

Hm, she'd have to ask about that a little later.

There were two nightstands of similar make beside the bed, the right one of which was empty and the left one having all the business. On its flat wooden top was a night-light for reading, a notebook and pencil placed in a very orderly fashion for jotting down notes, a little bottle of some sort of hair tonic, as described by the label, and five of those Cloud Puffer things.

That's a bit excessive.

She stopped short of going through her drawers, though. That was probably just nudging the line a bit too far, and anyway, it seemed like Duriandal was finished, from the sounds of the large sigh of relief that came out from a tired pony, and the shutting of a tome.

Was there a clock in this room? Oh yes, there was, opposite the bed, above the staircase. Two hours till dawn. Had it been that long already? At least they found a way to keep busy, although Blitz was getting a bit sleepy at this point and even that lumpy disgusting pseudo-bed was looking inviting.

She walked over to Duriandal, who once again had her head buried under her hooves.

"So... enjoyed yourself?" she smiled, looking at the crumpled, molested book, and the fatigued pencil.

"What? No!" Duriandal yelled up at her, breaking her protective leg-bridge. "That was horrible!"

Blitz's expression changed from warm understanding to just plain indignation.

"What?! But you finished the whole thing!"

"I know! I had to! Why anypony would do this is terrible! It's just... awful!"

"What in the hay are you talking about!?" Blitz nearly yelled.

"Someone went through all the trouble to make two hundred perfect magic number squares, and ruin it by taking out numbers. Who would do such a thing? Who, Blitz? Why would they make this book? Why?"

"... that's the point of the game, you... spoony... alchemist!"

"Well I just couldn't stop until I had repaired all the damage. I am sorry to say but this is just the most terrible thing I have ever come across," Duriandal shook her head slowly, speaking with an air of anxiety.

"You... my puzzles..."

"And thankfully I did them too, or else you would have to go through it yourself."

"I... I hate you, you know that?" Blitz said.

It was Duriandal's turn to suddenly turn expression.

"... do... do you mean that?" she said, much more softly now.

"No... no I don't," said Blitz, apologetically, lowering her stance into a flop. "But... I think I know why you don't have any friends."

"And I wish somepony would tell me," said Duriandal, sadly.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

They all looked like round topless pies to her. They all looked inedible to her. She should really have asked, but instead decided to do the next best thing and just eat one of everything. That shouldn't be too hard, they were all very small, and eventually she'd come across the quiche.

Also they probably all tasted the same anyway, so she wouldn't have to necessarily lie later if Princess Celestia came back to bother her.

It was only when some random pony gave her a rather odd look that she realised that perhaps her plate should not be piled up that high; another thing that was different from the big 'festi-vations' that her old police Sergeant threw, which encouraged you to stack up your food as high as ponily possible.

She was actually feeling nostalgic about the old country. And she wasn't even a month out. Is this the fast-paced life of the city? Is this how it was going to be like? It was both exhilarating and very menacing at the same time, like petting a sleeping tiger.

She looked down at her barely-full plate. I mean, it wasn't even three stacks high. Well, I guess I'll come back for seconds, she thought, unless that was frowned upon too, in which case I'll just go out for pizza later. They have pizza in Canterlot, right? They better freaking have pizza in Canterlot. Dear Colt, if they don't have pizza here I'm going to throw a fit, and then they're going to have to track me down for...

The barrage of consciousness came to an end as she tacked down upon the first of her many tiny offerings, which happened to be some kind of peach tart thing with custard and a light dusting of flour, which got up her nose and made her cough.

Oh Colt.

The plate tumbled to the floor; the sudden coughing fit making her lose her magical grasp for just that tiny moment. She caught it... mostly, as the plate up-righted itself, but a tiny little baked good went splattering to the slick marble floor.

Immediately, Canary's first reaction was to look around to see if anypony noticed.

No matter who you are, a guilty conscience always reacts in the same way.

Ok, no one saw, I think.

She hastily made way to the nearest table where she set down the plate, so that she could go wipe up her mess.

Oh no.

Oh boy. Oh no.

Don't step there. Please.

Oh, manure.

The pony, with his ruffled overcoat and monocle, went sliding through the air like a graceless swan, and made a ten point landing on his face, where he continued onward and through, ending up hitting the buffet table on the other end.

It was one of those kinds of things which makes an orchestra suddenly stop, which it did.

It was also one of those kinds of things which makes everyone else suddenly stop and watch, which is something that they shouldn't do, because while they're standing around watching, they aren't avoiding the hail of horse d'oeuvres that were, at that moment, finding their way through the skies toward expensive dresses and tuxedos.

Screams and yells erupted all around as Canary just stood there, face taking on a bit of a green tinge. Her eyes sank into her skull as action after action caused some sort of commotion which led to even more catastrophic events occurring.

Oh, there goes the walrus.

And there goes my life, thought Canary, as she walked out of the ballroom, escaping being part of the calamity by wisely being the only one actually aware of what was happening.

In the hallway outside the ballroom, which was still cascading with high-pitched shrieks and screams, Canary had a choice.

To her left was the exit, where she would go back to the station, file her resignation, and go back to the country to live out the rest of her life as a farmer.

To her right was the main staircase where Princess Celestia would be now, entertaining guests.

The choice was clear.

She barely took one step to the right when she realised that her earlier assessment of nopony watching her was wrong.

"Walk with me," said a voice, suddenly appearing behind her, sternly yet calm.

And along with Princess Celestia, they travelled down the eerily long hallway to a more private part of the castle.

Canary could feel her heart beating out of her chest with each step, and with four legs to contend with, her heart was beating pretty darn fast.

They had reached a balcony, where they could take in the night air and look down upon the city of Canterlot, just the two of them. The lights of Canterlot illuminated the cityscape, showing the ponies going about their night lives and having a peaceful time.

"So, you're a policepony," said Celestia, looking at the city, and not at Canary. "Did you see anything in there?"

Canary didn't know how to answer. There really wasn't a right way to say it, so she deemed that the most straightforward way was the most prudent, and then she could say goodbye to everything and get it over with.

"It was my fault, my Princess," she said. "I dropped a tart."

"Oh?"

She wasn't... angry, or mad, or even worse, she wasn't surprised. She did say 'oh', but it wasn't in that sort of astonished way that you would say it if you just found a pinecone in your soup. It was more like the 'oh' that you would give when you were slightly bemused by your child admitting that they were the one who accidentally flooded the living room while still holding the hose.

"Yes, Princess. I beg your forgiveness," Canary dropped to both knees in a grovel.

"Oh get up, you silly peanut," she said.

"Princess...?"

"I meant, did you see anything funny in there?"

"I... don't understand, Princess."

Celestia turned to Canary.

"When you were in that hallway, you could have left or you could have come to see me. You chose to come to see me. Why?"

"Because... I don't know why, Princess," it was the honest truth. She just did it because she knew she should. She didn't know the reason behind it, she just knew that she had to.

"Exactly."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand, Princess."

"Well, let's just say I'm a good judge of character, Canary," she looked at the city again. "Look at our city. Thousands of ponies, going about their lives. It's quite spectacular, don't you think?"

"Our city, ma'am?"

"Well, yes, you're going to be protecting it, aren't you? Isn't that why you joined the force?"

"But... I mean... the accident..."

"Oh, that old thing. Something always goes wrong. I expect in a couple of years something even worse will happen, and it won't be any different than any other year."

"But I... I mean... I did it... I did something horrible..."

"Yes, Canary. We all make mistakes. I've made many in my years."

"But..."

"Canary," she said, now with the forcefulness of a matriarch. "Ponies. Make. Mistakes. But we get over them. What the true difference is, is that we remain truthful and righteous. And it only took one step for me to know if you were or weren't."

Canary remained quiet.

"Anyway, really, this might seem like a big deal to you, but this is... actually quite fun for me. Just between us, I really dislike these things, but sometimes you have to put up a face even if you don't like it."

Canary nodded ever so slightly.

"Just like what you're here for, isn't that right, Canary?"

"Ah..."

"Oh, yes, the funding. I know. Every year they send somepony up to try to get me to dish out a few bits, and sometimes I'm generous, but this is the first time they've ever sent somepony up with initiative."

"Uh..."

"Initiative to the truth, and initiative for honour. There is nothing I respect more, especially from someone tasked to keep the peace in my personal city."

"Well... I try..."

"You know, I like you, Canary. How's twenty thousand bits sound?"

"I... don't..."

"Alright, thirty thousand. But not a bit more, you understand?" A sort of taunting cheekiness started to possess Princess Celestia again.

"Thir...ty... thous..."

"Fine. Five more. But that's my final offer."

"I'll... I'll take it," said a stunned Corporal Canary.

"Well, I must be off, I have to... clean up the mess, I suppose," Celestia sighed. "But you, I will be expecting you back next year, Canary."

And then she left, leaving Canary and the city to themselves.

---

Staff Sergeant Blue Beat looked up from the scroll at Canary, who stood there as if she had just saved an orphanage from a fire. She beamed yellow at the room. She could have lit up the entire station just by standing there in the dark.

She was trying very hard not to smile.

"Thirty-five thousand bits," said Blue Beat, not believing it himself. "And a personal recommendation for promotion from Princess Celestia herself."

"Yes sir," chirped Canary, walking out with head held high. "If that's all, I'll be at my desk then."

"It's going to be pretty interesting with you around, isn't it, Canary?" said Blue Beat, to himself.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"I never went back," said Canary. She was sitting in the viewing gallery, the only private place in the entire station, with Berry by her side. "I think she knew I wasn't going to go back, too. She knows everything."

"And that was two years ago?" asked Rebby.

"Yeah. We did cross paths a few more times since then, but usually because of her stupid guards interfering with crime scenes and causing trouble," Canary complained. "She has a thing for me. I have no idea why. I think it's because I play along."

"You're lucky, Sarge," said Rebby, jealous of her clout.

"You think that's lucky?" Canary scoffed, walking towards the door. "Lucky is if the whole damn station doesn't know this story by tomorrow."

Suddenly Canary bucked the door hard, making a loud bang. Someone or something on the other side fell back with a loud 'ow' and then scrambled away.

"You're the only one who knows, Berry," she said. "I'd like to keep it that way, alright?"

"Yeah... yeah, no problem Sarge!" Rebby said enthusiastically. She was really happy just to be part of some sort of secret pact with the great Sergeant Canary.

"And that's it, really. That's all there is between us."

"Sounds fun, Sarge," said Rebby.

"Shut up, Berry," said Canary, non-genuinely.

There was a rap at the window, to which both of them turned to look. On the other side of the mirror stood Quick Silver, who had a rather tell-tale bruise of red on her flank. She jerked a wing toward the direction of the exit.

"Um... sorry on disturbin', Sergeant, but there's a dev'ep'ment," she spoke to the wall.

All three of them met on the outside, where Canary flicked her eyes toward the sore bottom of Silver, who looked quite embarrassed indeed.

"Ah... yeah... um... I ain't... heard nothin'," said Silver. This was probably true; the door to the gallery was quite soundproof. Didn't stop her from trying though.

"Anyway, what's the news?" asked Canary.

"They found the body, Sarge. S'at the skydocks, and I'd get there real quick-like if I'd you," she said in her curious slang. "Crowd's gatherin'."

"Alright, Silver, get the coroner and get him down there A.S.A.P. We'll be going shortly. Take the cart."

"Aye, Sarge," she zoomed out the door.

"Berry, suit up. Get your stupid hat. We've got work to do," said Canary, looking out the doorway.

"And I have a feeling this has only just begun."

Wicked Stable Pt 4

Even in the dead of night, ponies do not sleep. Ponies do not slumber, nor do they reserve. There is no rest for the wicked, but neither is there rest for those who pursue.

The night coroner, a disgruntled, elderly pony, with a lifetime of experience and wisdom behind his eyes, still hated this part. No matter how many times you see things like this, it was the apprehension that got to you. It was the thought that somewhere, sometime, somepony's just going to come and top that last scene you cleared, and make you lose even more faith in ponykind.

But that's what you're there for. To see to it that, despite the criminal intent of the underworld, there's always someone looking to put a stop to it. It was a kind of egotistical solace, and that just had to do.

"Wit' the quickness, doc!" yelled Quick Silver, who was pulling one of her precinct's two carts. This one was the express; which had, where wheels would find home, a layer of clouds reinforced to hold heavy weight. It was much the same technology they used to fly the Royal Chariots, or the sky taxis that were to be found en masse at their intended destination.

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled the coroner. "It's five in the morning, leave me alone."

He clambered on board the waiting vehicle, one-Pegasus engine putting away in neutral, and put on his safety saddle. The saddles, an idea from Sergeant Canary herself, was a simple and elegant solution to the problem of ponies always falling off when Silver was driving. She had simply tied a saddle to two lengths of leather strap, which attached firmly to the sides of the cart, and held its passenger in place while they flew.

And if the cart had two passengers?

Well... share.

It wasn't perfect.

"You all tucked in there, doc?" Silver shouted above the revving of her wings.

"Yeah! Go!"

Silver clicked her tongue to herself twice, a tricky smirk coming to her mouth.

"Off we go, 'en," she mumbled, pushing into full gear.

And off it rose, the express cart roaring toward the other end of Canterlot, where the edge met the sky.

---

"What's the forecast?" asked Canary, a little above her usual tone. She had to speak up to cover the sound of heavy running and trundling. She, and Rebby, were both hauling the station's other cart, the one which actually had the wheels and did the whole rolling thing.

It was a paddy wagon, with a covered back, barred windows and a very secure lock; but in this case it doubled as a pack-cart, with equipment and other such things stowed on the inside. They rarely used it as was intended; it had been quite a while when ponies hadn't come quietly. It also helped that Canary's special skill aided in the securing of perpetrators, and in the end they communally just found it quicker to use Silver's express cart to haul off felons.

Also, the cover helped to keep their stuff dry, which was a consideration that was on Canary's mind at the moment, as the two policeponies yanked the cart behind them through the morning traffic.

"All clear, Sarge," replied Rebby. "No rain for a couple of days."

She had her helmet on, and turned on, as instructed by Canary - the only time that Canary actually felt it had any use. As they scarred down the street at full gallop, the warning light made it quite clear that they were coming, and coming fast. Most ponies stepped out of the way. The ones who didn't were avoided by Canary and Rebby's driving cohesion.

"You know, I was thinking, Sarge?" Rebby shouted.

"Don't start now, Berry!"

"I never did tell you about my first assignment, did I?"

"No one needs to know, Berry!"

"It was also a doom drawer assignment, you know!"

"Fancy that, Berry!"

Hard left. The cart suddenly swerved, going up on one wheel for just a moment as they grazed past an early-morning jogger.

"You ever hear of the Everfree Forest, Sarge?"

"Yeah, 'course I have!"

"Well, they asked me to go in and scout," she paused to catch her breath. "for unlisted creatures, Sarge!"

"You got that assignment?"

"Yeah, Sarge!"

"How are you still alive?"

A quick turn and the cart changed roads, cutting down a small alleyway between the denser business district of the city. Shortcuts. Always good to know them.

"Well, Sarge, you see, I darn well nearly had my day! I was barely in there for half an hour, and I was already on my last legs!"

"You don't say. What happened? Manticore? Dragon?"

"Uh... ate a bad fruit, Sarge!"

The cart slowed down a bit, because Canary nearly tripped.

"Bad fruit? Isn't your special ability to know..."

"Yeah, to know when fruit are ripe, Sarge, but I can't tell if they're poison or not!"

"Why the hay did you even eat anything in there in the first place?!"

"Hungry, Sarge!"

Canary shook her head. Rebby didn't notice.

"Why'd you become a cop, Berry?" Canary asked rhetorically.

"Didn't want to be a farmer, Sarge!"

"You go against natural order, you know!"

"Yeah, I know, Sarge, Cutie Mark and all that!"

"No, I meant in general, Berry!"

Over the bridge. One of many. Why did Canterlot have so many rivulets anyway? The paddy wagon jumped as it lurched off the zenith.

"Anyway, so I was sick, and I kind of was dying, but you know there's this little house on the border of the Everfree where Ponyville is?"

"No!"

"Luckily, there was this really nice girl inside, really pleasant mare, dragged me back and patched me up and gave me soup!"

"That was fortunate!"

"It was, Sarge, it was! I think she was a doctor of some kind. Dunno about her pet bunny though, kept kicking me in the head!"

The sound of the wheels against the floor turned softer. This meant that they had reached the paved area of the city, the more modern part which was built in more recent years. At least now they didn't have to shout against the noise of the cart.

"Well," said Canary.

"And she contacted the precinct and I was shuttled back by Silver," explained Rebby. "You were out that day on patrol, but when I got back I was still a bit confused because of the fruit, and they were asking me, hey, 'rank and name', and I tried to say my name, but it came out backward."

"Really."

"Yeah, and that's why everyone calls me Rebby now, Sarge!" she said cheerfully. "Well, everyone 'cept you, Sarge. Always wondered why you never called me Rebby, Sarge!"

"Because that isn't your name," she stated.

Constable Berry went quiet in deep thought. She had many thoughts, but at the front of her mind now was how amazing, how utterly wholesome it felt to share stories with her mentor and senior, Sergeant Blue Canary. It felt like a warm hug to her, and that's great because hugs feel like snuggling under a blanket on a cold rainy night, and that felt even better.

She had funny ways of thinking.

She also found pleasure in the small things. So much so that Canary always pondered how she didn't go into epileptic fits after doing something really good, like solving a crime.

But Berry just saw things equally, and that was the fact of the matter. Even from the tiniest good to the greatest salvation, it was all the same, and something good was something good, and something bad was something bad. Everything was appreciated and despised in amounts that were above quantitative rates, and it was a simple way of thinking that kept Berry fresh of thought and always optimistic.

The cart came to a screeching stop; Canary applying the brakes with a bit of horn power, as they pulled up to the crime scene.

As expected, Silver was already there, the coroner was already working the body, and another officer was trying to cordon off the scene from nosy onlookers and bored taxi drivers.

The docks were on the outer-most edge of Canterlot, past the market square, and overlooked the fantastic view that it gave of the lands stretched out underneath it. In the distance you could see Ponyville, Cloudsdale up in the corner, and that dark foreboding place there was where Berry had an unfortunate fruit encounter.

The Pegasus ponies usually kept this area free of clouds so as not to interfere with traffic, so the vista was always crystal and breathtaking.

The docks themselves were fanciful things; ground down blue brick and marble floors shining with polish, benches and fountains and lovely things betraying its purpose as a communal spot, and of course the stands themselves, which stuck out and over the cliff.

From above, it looked as if someone had wedged a large giant gear into the side of the cliff, with each spoke being a staging point for the chariot pullers who lined up to fetch and drop off passengers.

Today, spoke number 2 was closed for reasons of corpse.

Canary and Rebby pushed past the small, murmuring crowd that was keeping its distance, but kept close enough to keep an eye on things, and stepped up to the officer who called in the body.

"Oh, hey Jade," Canary said, politely. "We'll take it from here. Thanks for the help."

"No problem, Sergeant. Figured this was yours from yesterday's find. Good luck. It's... something, alright."

"I had a feeling," replied Canary, as Officer Jade retired for the night, walking off and trying to wave away the curious bystanders as she went.

"Berry, wanna take it from here?" asked Canary.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Alright, so do you understand now?"

"Yes, I do."

"And I'm not asking you if you can do it, just if you understand."

"I guess I do."

"So explain to me now," Blitz said slowly, "why you shouldn't go around finishing other pony's Sudoku books."

"Because the enjoyment that you derive from completing it yourself is as equal to the annoyance that I get from it, and I should not deprive you of that enjoyment."

"Yes, that's right," the cloud-like mane bobbled up and down. "It's called empathy."

"You... don't have to talk to me like I am a child," said Duriandal, frowning.

"Yes but you don't have any empathy, do you?"

"No, but it is not by choice, is it?"

"No, I suppose not. But something I'm curious about, Duri."

Duriandal gave a silent, quizzical look at Blitz.

"How is it that you can be a successful shopkeeper? I mean... usually you need some kind of social... understanding for that."

"Handling a shop is unlike handling personal relationships," explained Duriandal, frankly. "Through trial and observation, I have come to find that certain behavioural patterns edict a favourable response from a customer. This is because a customer has certain expectations from an encounter with one that they label a 'shopkeeper'."

"So... what you're saying is that... you have a script?"

"In a sense, yes. I am able to emulate the behaviours necessary to persuade a customer to make purchases. It is merely about action and response. However, I have found that in other social situations, the span of this is simply far too broad for me to be able to understand."

"That is to say... that since every single pony is different..."

"There is no context of reference that I can use to develop a system."

"It's... not a game, Duriandal," said Blitz. "It's not about patterns... I mean, sure, patterns do exist in many social contexts, but... I mean... ponies are ponies, you know? Don't you just have this sense that tells you what you should do in any situation?"

"Ah... no."

"Then what do you use when you need to talk to somepony outside of a business... oh, ok. Right now," Blitz tapped her hoof on the floor where they both lay facing each other. "Like this. How do you know how to respond to me?"

"Well... logically, when you ask a question, I respond with an answer."

"Yes but I mean, beyond that. Like... tone of voice, for example. Body language. Can you tell how I am feeling right now?"

Duriandal stared at Blitz for what felt like a good minute, with no reply and no movement. Duriandal's eyes wandered a while as she tried to make good process with the information present, but nothing solid could be formed. At least, until a low growling came from Blitz's stomach.

"You are hungry!" Duriandal said, almost instantly, not wasting the opportunity.

"That doesn't count!" Blitz threw her legs up in the air. "But you know, you're right. I am hungry. We'll pick this up later, alright? It's sunrise, neither of us has had a bite to eat all night, neither of us has had any sleep, and the streets outside are getting busy again. I think it's fairly safe to leave now."

As the night wore on, things did calm down. That incident that happened in the wee hours of yesterday's frame had left with traces of misgivings scraped off, but they held it together enough to return to an otherwise peaceful state of mind. Apparently when Duriandal wasn't in a heightened emotional calibration, or in the throes of extreme compulsion, she actually was a rather vocal and rather articulate pony, until the point where someone upset a beaker and she would start crying again.

"Would... you... like a sandwich?" asked Duriandal suddenly. The question was intoned strangely, as if the question was about the appropriateness of the situation rather than the offering of breakfast.

"You're offering me food?" asked Blitz back, eyelid raised.

"I believe... in the social context... it would be..." she struggled with the word, "polite of me to offer you food, given the circumstances. Is this not right?"

"Yes! I mean, yes, it's absolutely right!" Blitz nodded, quite enthused. "How did you... ah... come to the conclusion?"

"Well, you are in a state of hunger... and... if one were to satiate your cravings, you would be pleased with the one who proffered the food, yes?"

"You sure could satiate my cravings, I tell you what," Blitz complained about her hunger.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, go on."

"Well... I want you to be... pleased with me," Duriandal rubbed the back of her head, a bit uncomfortable. "I would like for you to... continue to be my friend."

Aw. Well. That's really so sweet, isn't it? Really weird, but kind of sweet. Still, awfully weird. But sweet.

"Your offer is very much accepted," Blitz said. "But you know, normally we don't go around saying things like that, though. It's a bit... odd."

"Noted. But I am glad that this interaction has had good results."

"Me too, Duri. You have no idea."

"I shall get you a sandwich that I have left over in the fridge."

Blitz thought back to that poor, barren wasteland of a sandwich that she saw earlier.

"Ah... actually on second thought..."

"You... decline my offer?" Duriandal suddenly looked crestfallen.

"No! No. Well, see, another thing friends do is go out together and do things together. Community brings ponies in oneness, I'm sure you've heard."

Duriandal nodded.

"So let us... com...munnize," she came to the conclusion. "And let me show you what a real sandwich is. Any cafes nearby?"

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Oh joy oh glee oh beauteous day! It's my turn, it's my turn, it's my turn. Constable Berry hopped around the scene, at least in her head, scrutinizing every small tiny stone and every upset leaf. Now's the chance to show what I'm capable of! Maybe... maybe I'll even get that promotion! Nah, that's silly. But maybe not that silly, I've been Constable for a long time now, and usually it's that one big break that gets you up into Lance Corporal, right? Right?

Is this my big break? Is Canary judging me silently? Oh boy, I sure hope she is. I love it when people judge me. No wait, that sounds wrong. Well, let's see. Primaries. Primaries. Canary always said, take a quick look at everything...

Rebby's head shot up, surveying the scene, taking in all there was to take.

... and then make the most obvious assumption and work from there. Your first assumption will usually be wrong, but it will usually lead to the truth. That's what Canary says. It must be right. It must be, because she's the best.

So what is there to see? It's the skydocks, it's in the middle of the morning. The body was placed nicely in dock number 2, and from the looks of it, it's that Lavender pony that the other pony identified that day in the thing.

Oh my colt oh my colt I don't know I don't know ahhhhhhhhhhhh

"Berry!" Canary snapped her out of her mental deluge.

"Sarge?" asked Rebby, turning around.

"Thoughts?"

"None yet, Sarge," Rebby admitted. "I think I should look around a bit more before I say anything."

"Alright, go on. You're lead on this one, so you take us for a walk, ok?"

"Ok!"

She was so, so happy for this opportunity. She danced to the body, which lay in crumpled heap, twisted in so many ways that it didn't seem to look like a body any longer. A pool of drying blood was congealing around the dump spot. There wasn't much, but it did seem like a classic leakage. She suddenly didn't feel like dancing anymore.

The coroner was busying himself with examining the body, after all the crime scene photos were taken courtesy of Silver.

" 'nythin else I can do for ya?" she fluttered by, asking the group in general.

"Go ahead," prompted Canary.

"Mmm. Right!" Rebby's head shook up and down. "Uh... could you check out the side of the dock? Down there," she motioned to the edge of the cliff. "Just the normal cursory."

"Ya got it... boss," Silver smirked again, zooming off and over the edge.

"Hey, don't get too close to the end there," said Canary offhandedly. "One wrong step and it's the direct train to Ponyville. If you scream loud enough I dare say Silver has about a minute and a half at the most to catch you."

"I'll be careful, Sarge," Rebby said, looking back to the body.

"Hi, Mister Bowler," she said to the Coroner. "How are you doing?"

"I'm kneeling over a dead Pegasus with a thermometer stuck in her liver. How do you think I'm doing?"

Ah, as fine as ever, Mister Bowler was. He was such a nice guy, always witty with his remarks, but never as witty as Canary, of course.

"What's the time of death?" asked Rebby.

Mister Bowler turned to Canary. "Is she...?"

"Yeah, I'm listening too. Go on," Canary reassured.

He took in a deep breath. "Alright, then. Time of death was approximately four hours ago, judging by liver temp. However, from the blood pooling and skin colours, it seems that she lost a lot of blood before her death."

"Not sure you want to see this," Bowler continued, "It's a gruesome sight, but go around the other side to see how she lost all that blood."

Rebby was ready. She was always ready. She stood firm, and with stiff gait made her way to the other side and had a look.

Oh colt she was not ready. She was so not ready.

"Oh my..." she muttered. "That's terrible, Mister Bowler."

"Not the worst I've seen," he said. "Still pretty bad though."

The Pegasus was missing a wing. It seemed to have been forcefully removed, and not in a kind way either. Rebby didn't need the coroner to tell her that it was pulled off rather than cut, as indicated by certain obvious signs that they were trained to recognize.

Rebby looked skyward and took in a bit of fresh air, before walking back to the less churning angle of vision.

"That... wasn't the cause of death?" Rebby asked again, a bit softer this time.

"Nope. From what I can tell, it happened before she died. Cause of death is extreme blunt force trauma."

"You mean someone hit her with a heavy object?"

"No, I mean she hit the pavement."

The coroner lifted a leg, which was way too wobbly and quite unlike anything Rebby'd ever want to see. Little white fragments stuck out from it at odd angles, sharp and glinting in the rising sun.

"Multiple fractures. Burst like a balloon. Would say that either she was dropped from a great height, or her velocity was pretty high to have a result like this."

"Alright... thanks, Mister Bowler," Rebby said, returning to Canary, who was only a few steps away. But still, Rebby felt safer by her side.

"Why would anypony do such a thing?" asked Rebby, softly.

"Don't lose faith on me now, Berry," said Canary.

Rebby swallowed. Her innocent view of the world sometimes was shaken up by things like this. Sometimes, she found it hard to keep neutrality in a place where such things happened. And it wouldn't get easier from here. Now she had to think about it, muse over it, talk about it and what for?

Well, to get to the truth, that's what for.

Yeah, focus, Rebby. That's why you do this. What it's all about. Don't lose faith. That's right.

"Ok, Sarge," she said with renewed vigour. "Body was dropped. Meaning, it was either levitated or flown. There is a lack of a blood trail here as well, and no spatter on the floor, so that means it was flown in from over the edge. That says Pegasus."

"Nice assessment, Rebby," Canary mused, herself. Was she wrong originally about the perpetrator being a Unicorn?

" 'Ey boss," Silver came levitating in. "Blood on 'em walls back 'ere. Over the side, too. Not much, 'bout one 'a two drips, maybe?"

"That confirms it," said Canary. "Thanks, Silver."

"Thanks, Silver," Berry said at almost the same time.

"F'get it," she replied, flying off and landing outside the crime zone.

"Ok... so... someone kills a Pegasus across town, but flies it all the way here to dump it. Why?"

"Dunno, Sarge. Seems a bit silly to me."

"Does this place hold any significance?"

"Don't think so, Sarge. Much better places to leave a body. But I don't know, why bother with the move?"

"Keep going."

"I mean... you'd move a body to hide it, right? And she wasn't even dead until she hit... hit the ground," Rebby winced, trying not to think about it. "But if you're going to leave it out in the open, why bother moving it?"

"Well, let's keep that in mind. What else?"

"The wing, Sarge. It seems kind of weird to want to do that if you're just going to kill somepony anyway."

"I have some thoughts on that one."

"Yeah Sarge?"

"What do you write a message with?"

"A quill, Sarge?"

"So what do you write a really big message with?"

"A really big... oh."

"Wing's not important, anyway. It's not here with the body. Maybe it washed over the edge. Maybe it ended up somewhere else. I pity the pony who finds it," said Canary, "but it served a purpose and now the message is left with the body. But what are we meant to find?"

There was silence as the two of them thought over some facts, some assumptions, and all the things that they didn't yet know.

"Sarge, can I try something?"

"Depends on what you want to try."

"On Silver."

"Oh, then do what you want," said Canary, bluntly, calling the impedimental Pegasus over.

" 'sup Bosses?" she said, as she entered the scene.

"Hey, Silver? Could you... stand there, and stretch out your right wing?"

With a frump and a ruffle of feathers, her wing extended in its full glory.

"Like 'is?"

"Yeah. Just hold it there."

Suddenly, Berry's horn came to life, as an aura of magic surrounded the wing.

"Ey, ey! Wha'cha on about?" Silver complained.

"Sorry! Sorry! Just... uh... fight back!"

"Damn straigh' I'mm'a fight back!" she struggled, pulling the wing back easily.

Berry's gaze intensified, as her magic did as well, trying to pull the wing away from Silver as she folded it up.

"Ok, really, if you'd wanna wing-wrassle, you'd'a just say, eh?" Silver chuckled, as she stretched her wing muscles out.

"And as amusing as that was, what was that about, Berry?" asked Canary.

"It's not that easy to pull off a wing, Sarge."

"Ey, I could'a jus' toldja," said Silver.

"Yeah, but I wanted to try for myself," said Rebby, determinedly. "See, one thing that is just all up in the air now is just what sort of pony this is. From a lot of clues, he's really strong, he can fly, also knows magic... can't be everything in one, can it?"

"Well, Princess Celestia..."

"I dunno, Sarge. If there were others like Princess Celestia and her sister, everypony'd be talking about it."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm thinking... I'm thinking that if you were a Pegasus, or a Unicorn, or an Earth, you'd still have trouble pulling off a wing like this."

"Which means..."

"Maybe we're dealing with three ponies, Sarge. One of each."

Could be. Could be. It wasn't the first thing that Canary came to, but she couldn't discount the possibility.

"Also, they dragged the body at the first scene, right? But not here?"

"Good thought," she congratulated Berry, regardless. "It's up in the air, but let's keep it open, alright?"

Dragging the body at the first scene... but flown to the delivery point... why? Did it have to be delivered? Was there a reason why flight was not available at the first location? What did this mean?

"Alright Sarge. How'd I do?"

"How'd you do what?"

"With the investigating. Did I do ok?"

"I don't know, Berry," shrugged Canary.

"Why not?"

"Because we don't know if you're right or not, yet."

"Oh ziiiinnnng," said Silver, beating her wings.

"Hey, sorry to break up your little party," came the gruff old voice of Mister Bowler, the cantankerous coroner. "This right here... seems off."

"What did you find?" asked Canary, the three of them walking toward the body.

The coroner pointed toward one of the hooves of the deceased pony, which stretched out at an awkward angle. Being how she landed, it was possible that it was part of the random chance, but something else suggested that it wasn't.

Her hoof was placed flat upon the ground, around which was some kind of blood streaks that looked a bit more intentional than accidental.

"I didn't really notice it at first," said Mister Bowler. "Her leg was blocking it, but when I was checking for drops I noticed this."

He lifted the arm slowly with a bit of magic, revealing a clear hoof-print. A horseshoe shape, around which was a box, also traced out in blood, with a little triangle above it. It looked like how a child would draw a house, but this one had an upside-down hoof inside.

"What is that?" asked Canary.

"Beats me," shrugged the Coroner.

Berry just kept quiet.

" 's sign offa Wicked Stable, Sarge," said Silver.

"What?" Canary looked up. "The Wicked Stable? What's that?"

" 's old old pony lore," said Silver, trying to recall. "Eh... like'a sorta stuffa legendsn' all that."

"Come again now?"

" 's five bad pony 'iffins, Sarge, from thousan'sa years ago. What they'd believe back 'en."

"And you know this... how?"

"Eh... I like weird ol' licks," she shrugged. "Them iffins'r pre'gist, ip'crasy, tressin', have'ris, an' hoob'is."

"I see... well... that gives us something to go on. Silver, could you transport the body and the coroner back to the morgue once he's done here? We're going to head back first to chase a couple things."

"Aye, Sarge," nodded Silver.

Canary and Rebby both retreated, finally, passing by the press, who had finally caught wind of it and were taking notes. They both ignored the ones trying to get a quote, and walked to the paddy wagon.

"What leads are we gonna chase up on, Sarge?" asked Berry.

"This whole Wicked Stable thing. I want to know more about it."

"Oh, continuing off where Silver left us?"

"Nope. Starting from the beginning. I didn't catch one damn word she said," Canary rolled her eyes.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Now this was a sandwich, you betcha. Triple-decker honey oat B.L.T. - that's Birch, Lettuce and Tomato, obviously - with a side order of straw chips. And they weren't stingy with the tomato, either. And was that dipping sauce? Oh Colt, this might just be the best cafe in existence. It just might be.

On the other side of the table was a very lonely plate of young bamboo shoots. Plain.

Duriandal was lining them up on the plate like little toy soldiers, all standing in a row.

"Is that what you usually eat?" she just had to ask.

"What day is today?" Duriandal suddenly stopped arranging her food and asked.

"Uh... Tuesday."

"Then yes, it is what I usually eat," she continued shuffling stalks, happy with the confirmation.

A semi-frightening thought crossed Blitz's mind, as she scratched her shoulder distractedly. Her huge plate of delicious sandwich and accompaniments stood, tantalizingly, in front of her, at the cafe across and a little further up the street. Essentially, rather than hunting for a place, Blitz was just hungry enough to go for the first eatery she came across, which luckily, turned out to have a wide selection of choice.

It was a medium-sized place with indoor and outdoor tables. They chose to sit outdoors, where they could watch the crowd and be surrounded by ponies. Most of them were outdoors at this time, anyway; the early breakfast crowd preferred some fresh air.

Metalwork tables punctuated the area, with comfortable cushions distributed amongst them for the patrons to sit upon.

Blitz watched with deep consideration as she saw Duriandal pick up a tiny bamboo shoot with two hooves and nibble on it like a rabbit.

"Alright... this is going to hurt you more than it hurts me," Blitz said suddenly. "I hope."

"What?"

"Right, see. This thing of yours to be orderly and all that, it's not a bad thing as it is, but I think you rely on it too much," stated Blitz.

Duriandal paused in mid-nibble. "I don't see what you mean."

"Ok, like, for example, this dish that you have chosen. Do you want to eat it or do you have to eat it?" Blitz pointed an accusing hoof at the naked platter.

"I want to eat it," stated Duriandal.

"Why?"

"Because... it is Tuesday?"

"No, see, that falls under the 'have to' category. Like couldn't you eat something else? Like a delicious sandwich?" The more well-dressed plate inched closer to Duriandal's side of the table.

"No, I do not want a sandwich. Sandwiches are Thursday food."

"Why?"

"I do not know," the green pony shrugged. "It just makes me feel better to know what I am going to eat every day."

The Unicorn waiter was standing there in the corner, watching them tussle over the food, a pitcher of water ready to refill their glasses. He really shouldn't be watching, but he was a waiter and it was part of their job descriptions to offer water at the most inappropriate times during mealtime conversation.

"Well, look at it this way. You need to be able to be flexible. It's part of life. Real life," explained Blitz. "One thing about friendship is that you have to be able to handle the fact that other ponies, and plenty of other things, for that matter, aren't going to run like clockwork. Like what are you going to do if this cafe is closed on Tuesdays?"

"Find somewhere else that sells Bamboo."

"What if you couldn't? What if every Bamboo-selling cafe, restaurant or shop in the entirety of Equestria is closed on Tuesday?"

"That is a statistical impossibil..."

"What if, Duri?"

Duriandal made a little uncomfortable squeal as she shuddered a bit, legs up in front of her. That was answer enough for the stand-in psychotherapist.

"That bad, huh?"

Duriandal nodded, looking down at the half-eaten shoot she still held in her hooves.

"Well, how are you going to be able to deal with your... whaddaya call it, obsessive compulsive disease if you can't handle just this one thing?"

"Actually, the 'd' stands for 'disorder'," Duriandal mumbled.

"Yeah, ok, sure, but I mean, this is a pretty small thing, isn't it?"

"No. It is... large for me."

"I don't think that's the right word to use in this situation, Duri, but go on?"

"Well... we... latch onto things," Duriandal attempted to elaborate. "It is never clear what we feel uncomfortable about, but it is the general feeling of discomfort which... makes us as we are."

"I am sure you have heard of ponies who are unable to step on cracks in the sidewalk, or who throw away a bar of soap after just one use?" Duriandal asked.

"Yeah, they use those a lot in shows and books and stuff," nodded Blitz.

"It is... just one of many ways this affliction can manifest itself," worded Duriandal, carefully. "For me, I simply... feel better eating the same thing every given day of the week."

"You also like putting things in order, and you hate stains, don't you?"

"Yes. And I have a few other idiosyncrasies. But they do not mean that I cannot function in public. They just make it more difficult."

"So how is it that you can survive other things, like... I mean look," Blitz held up her napkin. "This is going to be stained. Eventually. How are you going to keep from going crazy?"

"Well," Duriandal said, crunching her shoot and swallowing daintily. "That is not mine, and it will be washed later, yes?"

"And that makes it better?"

"Yes."

"I'm not going to be able to understand this, am I?"

"Probably not, no. Not many ponies have bothered to try this far, however, and I cannot say for certain."

"Nopony has?"

"None. The usual reaction is a jocular insult and then a quick departure," she said it almost like observing behaviour of bacteria in a Petri dish.

"I'm not sure if they're all meant to be jocular, Duri," Blitz muttered sadly.

"I am unable to tell the difference."

Well, I can't blame you, Blitz took a sip of water, thinking about how to make a pony like this understand something simple like 'relationships'. She figured this would be the best way to start 'teaching' her about how to behave in social contexts.

"Are you going to be offended by what I have to say next?" she led-in.

"I... do not know. I have no idea what you are going to say next."

"Well usually when somepony says that, it means that they are going to say something offensive."

"I... see. But why then, state that rather than just simply saying the offending statement?"

"Because it lessens the blow."

"I... do not see how."

"Of course not. Well... in that case... what would you think if I told you... no, wait, that doesn't work either, does it?" Blitz's mind scrambled to rephrase it, but 'to heck with politeness' seemed to be the favourable path here. "Ok, forget all that. Let me just tell you straight."

She held up a hoof, pointed at Duriandal's chest.

"The only reason why I've stuck around so long is because I like puzzles," she said. "And you are the greatest puzzle of all. I should have left long ago, but I haven't, because I find you fascinating."

"I see..." said Duriandal, looking quizzical. "I... can understand why I would take offence at that."

"Don't you feel anything else?"

"Yes, of course, I feel saddened by your words."

"Ok but what if..." Blitz went on. "I said that I stuck around because you were a joy to be around, and I like you?"

"Well, as I understand, that would be a positive thing, and so I should feel happy, and content."

"Yes but you see, that's the thing. In real pony relationships, it's kind of like that. You can't just read what's on the surface. You have to know how ponies will react, how ponies think, and how ponies feel."

"I do not see."

"Well, alright. Let me explain it like this. How about if I told you that my two statements were both true?"

"I... do not see."

"Well, I like puzzles, right? And to me, you're a puzzle. But that gives me joy, and therefore leads me to enjoy your company."

Duriandal gave it some quick math. She froze in the same way she did when she was computing anything new in her head - with a slight tilt of the neck and mouth slightly open. Blitz was starting to recognize it.

"So... you are saying that all relationships are based on arbitrary feelings of enjoyment that ponies get from each other, based on qualities that the opposing party has?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"So... I have no friends because I do not have qualities that other ponies find appealing?"

"Unfortunately, also yes. But it's a double-edged sword, you see? You're the way you are because... well I don't know why, but I assume it has something to do with..."

"... biochemistry... " interrupted Duriandal.

"... biochemistry, thank you," continued Blitz, without stopping. "But you need practice and no one gives you practice because they're turned off from the start. So it's a little unfair to you."

"I think so too!" agreed Duriandal, with furrowed brow. "It is very very unfair!"

"Yes, yes, calm down," Blitz smiled embarrassedly. She was causing a scene.

"But you see, you have a quality that I find appealing, and so I get to know you, and the longer I know you, the more qualities that I find that I like, and we then become... friends," Blitz said. "And that's how it works. Basically."

"I... think I understand," said Duriandal. She had left her plate of bamboo untouched since the conversation heightened, almost like she forgot about it.

"Yeah, so... out of curiosity, what qualities did you see in me that made you want to be my friend?" Blitz should know better than to ask, but she did so anyway.

"You were willing to speak to me for more than ten minutes," said Duriandal, nodding.

"Fill your glasses, madames?" the waiter suddenly appeared tableside.

"No! Get... I mean, no thank you," Blitz said, smiling the waiter off. "Ok, I think... that's enough of that for the time being."

"Yes... I have a lot to consider," said Duriandal.

"Well, maybe you could answer one of my questions?" asked Blitz.

"Yes."

"Are you... able to live like this, the way you are? I'm just a bit astonished, because you do have a business, and you are able to take care of yourself, but yet, the way you think and talk..."

"If you are asking about my behaviour in comparison to my appearance..."

"Yes, I guess you could put it that way. I mean, obviously you are a very smart pony," she said.

"Yes. I am," Duriandal answered. There was absolutely no pride in that. It was just a statement of fact to her and nothing more.

"... and you can communicate fairly well, you know a lot of big words and stuff."

"Stuff. Yes," Duriandal confirmed again.

"And you have emotions."

"I have a full spectrum of emotional states, yes."

"So... what's wrong with you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Nopony has told me."

"What about your parents?"

Oh, it had to come up sometime.

"The earliest memory I have of my father was when I was seven years forty-one days old. He said, quote, 'The only difference between her and a sociopath is that she ain't killin' nopony'."

"That... that's horrible. Who was he saying it to?"

"Mrs. Margarine, the lady who ran the orphanage."

"Oh."

"It is alright. I am no longer affected by this memory," Duriandal said. It was clearly a lie, however. She looked extremely affected by it, but was holding an incredibly brave face.

"I'm... sorry," said Blitz, genuinely, although she had nothing else to add to that.

"There is nothing to be sorry about. It was not your fault, and you were not involved. Why are you sorry?"

"It's... just that empathy stuff again," she muttered. "Something you don't have to worry about."

"I see."

They both sank down into awkward stillness, Duriandal nibbling on her offerings and Blitz playing with her chips. They'd grown soggy.

"Blitz?" Duriandal asked suddenly.

"Yeah, Duri?"

"Could I... have some of your sandwich?" she asked, much to the surprise of the one across the table from her.

"Of... of course you may," she said, pushing the entire plate over. "I can have yours, no problem... but what made you change your mind?"

"I do not know," she said.

Duriandal sighed, unenthusiastically prodding the wet sandwich and the wilting chips.

"I guess today just feels like Thursday to me."

Wicked Stable Pt 5

"Where are we, Sarge?" asked Rebby, as they walked down the barren road. Clearly, this was a much different part of the city than where they had been just previously, and certainly a lot fancier than the areas around the precinct she was used to.

The buildings here were far more spaced out, and the roads winded and weaved through well-tended expanses of grass and flowers, all of which the ponies graciously kept off of.

The population too, thinned out and mere individuals peppered the landscape as the two policeponies walked down side by side - there was plenty of space, and all that space gave character as the girls in blue were greeted by every passerby with a 'good morning, officers', or a 'how do you do, ma'am'.

It seemed very serene and peaceful, almost utopian, but there was a strange disposition to the place; and just as you know that still waters run deep, you also know that the calmest place in Canterlot is just so for a precise reason.

"We're near the castle, Berry," said Canary. "Not like you could miss it, anyway."

And how true was that statement made, for no matter which point you placed yourself in this perfect landscape would you be shadowed by the mighty castle of Princess Celestia, as it watched over all her ponies with its covert gaze. It built itself up in the distance, at the highest point atop the cliff, magic waterfalls casting an ever-lasting stream of water upward and over the edge, only to be swept away by the winds and become as mere mist playing host to a rainbow eternal.

"It's rather pretty," commented Rebby. They had stopped a point along the path which gave them a decent view of the castle from the side - the same view that Ponyville had, but at a level eyeline. "Pity about all the space, though, eh?"

"What do you mean, Berry?" asked Canary, as they stopped to catch their breath. Being up on a cliff meant that the air was very thin, and you were always either fighting against or rolling with a slope.

At least they didn't have the paddy wagon with them; Canary was wise enough to leave it back at the station before making the long trip here. Either way, what they required could easily fit into a saddlebag, which Berry now wore in place of her usual helmet, which was also left behind due to Canary deeming it 'too uncouth' for where they were going.

"Well, I mean, look at all this emptiness, Sarge. Sure is different down there, isn't it?" She pointed back toward the township that lay in a semi-circle around the castle city's feet. "Even if it's technically the same city and all, this place is really... bare."

"Well, there's reasons for that, Berry."

"I mean, couldn't they plant an apple tree or something? Then we wouldn't have to import and stuff..."

"Well... alright," Canary breathed in heavily, letting the sweet, dew-filled air scratch past her lungs. "First time here, Berry?"

"Yeah Sarge," she nodded. "Never really needed to come up to the castle area before. In fact, Staff Sergeant Blue Beat says I should never come up here. I don't know why."

"Let's try out those detective skills of yours, right here, Berry. What do you see?"

"Whut now?" asked Berry catching up slowly. "Oh, right Sarge, I got this one. Yeah."

Perhaps driving in a bit too eagerly, Berry scanned the environment and her checklist came out ticked, as the seconds ticked by.

"I see... a lot of space, Sarge."

"Alright, the obvious, but I'm not going to knock points off for that. Go on."

"The ponies here are pretty friendly too. They're noticing us and saying hello as we walk by. They... walk slower, too, with smaller steps."

"Good observation. Always look at how a pony walks. Tells you a lot of things. But what does this feel like?"

"Makes me think they aren't in a rush, Sarge, like there's maybe... less to do here?"

"Yeah, alright."

"It reminds me of the countryside, Sarge. Not big cities like Canterlot or Phillydelphia. It's more like Ponyville or whatnot. Kinda relaxed."

Canary always thought that this place was like the countryside, in fact. She figured it was city, but so city that it went in reverse and ended up behaving like its opposite.

"Not many houses here, too, Sarge. Not many Ponies live here. Hard to get stuff, too. It's a fair walk down to the mains, and this slope doesn't help."

"Yeah, that's right. There's a magic school here, and there's regular shipments of supplies from the Pegasus couriers."

"So... these ponies are... rich?"

"And...?"

"Lucky?" Berry hazarded a guess.

"Well, they sure are," said Canary, almost like it was a complaint. "Only the most elite of elite live up here. Being lucky is part of it, but the ones who stay here are the ones who have something to do with Big C."

"Oh, like servants and teachers and things?"

"That's right. Everypony else was... invited to make their way down a bit and make a larger community surrounding the castle."

"Why, Sarge?"

"Think tactically, Berry. The castle is in the highest part of the city. Besides having the best view, what would happen if Canterlot were attacked?"

"Well, the advantage goes to the one with height, right?"

"That's right, Berry."

"But what about all those ponies down there?" she pointed to the cityscape.

"That's what all the space is for, Berry."

Ooooh, right. She hadn't thought about it that way. It made sense, though. The castle was built a long, long time ago, when ponies were still establishing themselves throughout the region, and as unfair as it was, the Princess did have highest priority of safety.

"It doesn't really apply any longer, though," cut Canary.

"What do you mean, Sarge?"

"Well, there's just too many of us now. All spread out. All over Equestria. Used to be that the city needed walls to protect her. Now, the city is a wall. If any creature beast or horde wanted to get through all that..." she looked down at her home. "Probably gonna take them a while. Also, now with dragons flying around... point is moot."

"So none of this... really applies?" Berry asked, confused, waving her leg at the great space around them.

"Yep."

"And it's for nothing?"

"Yep."

"So what's it for?"

"I told you what it's for."

"I don't get it, Sarge."

"Get what?"

"What's the lesson?"

"The lesson is," Canary said, wistfully. "That sometimes the key to understanding the present can be found in the past."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

They had a sandwich.

Then, they had one more.

They had four more after that. They were ravenous, much to the amusement of the waiter, and their plate of baby bamboo shoots had long grown cold and morose.

They were so full, but they were happy, and that's what was missing from the equation. The time for deep discussion had long been past, and their focused task now was getting back to the shop without falling over.

"I... have never... eaten that... much before," wheezed Duriandal. "In one... sitting!"

"Oh... come on," rebutted Blitz. "You... only... had three... I had to... finish off the last one...!"

She plopped a hoof on a new step, huffing as she hefted herself up.

"What's up... with this street, anyway? There's like... a million... steps... here!"

"Two hundred... and fifty... seven..."

"Oh... for..."

Ok, that's it. Enough is enough. Time to stop and take a breather.

"Ok... ok... wait... wait," she crumpled to the ground on one of the cool, blue-stone steps, made out of cracked, worn pebbles sprinkled into cement. The mid-morning sun bounced off each and every one of them, giving off a dazzling show of pin-pricks and fireflies. "You know... this place is... really fancy."

"Yes... I think so... too," agreed Duriandal.

They both panted as they rested on different steps, full to bursting. Blitz had paid for the whole feast herself. It was something friends did, she explained. Treating one another on special occasions.

Was this a special occasion? Duriandal had asked.

Yes it most certainly was, replied Blitz. It was the first day of Duri and Blitz's new friendship.

And they now both were lying on the floor, collecting odd looks from the waxing crowd.

To her credit, this had only happened once before in Blitz's life, and was the result of a very nasty incident with a block of marble that was far too heavy for her to be lifting by herself. At least the pavements up in Cloudsdale were far more comfortable than what she was lying on right now, she mused.

"What is it like?" came a question directed toward her. It also had this muse-y tone to it, like it was a pondering upon something that didn't really have an answer.

"What's what like, Duri?" she responded, staring up into the sky and its fluffy white offerings.

"What is Cloudsdale like?"

Apparently they were both looking at the same thing.

"Cloudsdale... well..." she repeated, "It's something. Big old city, just floating there in the sky. View's incredible. Air's always fresh. And you never have to worry about the weather."

"Is it... pretty?"

"Well... sure," thought Blitz. She never really had to describe her home before. It was just something that ponies took for granted. Either you were there or you weren't, and when you really thought about it, what were the qualities that made Cloudsdale 'pretty'?

"It's... very white," she said. "Clouds everywhere... I'm doing a terrible job."

"No, I do not think so."

"Yeah? How would you describe Canterlot, then?"

"Very gold. Stone everywhere."

Blitz snorted, a solid single laugh that took her by surprise.

"Well, so you do have a funny bone in you, huh, Duri?"

Duriandal, out of sight of her partner, smiled to herself slightly for this personal achievement.

"Well, I tell you what, Duri, you'd love Cloudsdale. It's really round and orderly. Pillars all over, keeping things aloft. Not too many distractions, you know? It's just... peaceful and serene, and calm. We have a huge stadium for games, if you're into that kind of thing, and if you're not happy with the landscape, you can change it."

She thought back to her own house, full of her work and wares. Just thinking how different it was up there where your very environment tripled as your universal building material as well as your weather-generating device. It was actually quite a remarkable place.

"Oh, snap, I think I left a window open," Blitz remarked off-hoof.

"Are you concerned?"

"Well, not really. Just that sometimes the drafts get in and blow my worksheets around and I gotta go find them and all."

...

"It must be nice," said Duriandal, after a moment's pause.

"It's home," came the only answer. "But Canterlot's not bad, is it?"

"It is not easy," said Duriandal.

"How so?"

"I am just an Earth pony, living amongst Unicorns," she said. "A lot of things here are made for magic users in mind, and I usually have to compensate."

"Well, why'd you move here, anyway? Where did you grow up originally?"

"Here, actually. In the orphanage across town. I was too young to remember anything before my first day there."

"Yeah, I get it," Blitz tried to get the topic running again to avoid having to go back to that time and place. "So why didn't you just leave?"

"I decided to stay. Because... I was tired of being normal."

"That's... an interesting way to put things."

"Oh, I do realise that... in my case, the word 'normal' seems not to apply. But... when I was growing up, I realised something. Earth ponies are... lesser beings."

"Now that's just not tr..." Blitz frowned.

"We are. This is simply fact, not speculation, nor emotional thinking. We do not have magic, and we are unable to fly. How are we 'better' than our Pegasus and Unicorn counterparts?"

"Industrialism?"

"Even our own princess was chosen for her blessing to have both the power of flight and magic. Would an Earth pony be chosen for lack of either, instead?"

Suddenly it got very uncomfortable for Blitz. Even if she didn't think of it that way, and even if they were brought up to believe that it wasn't that way, there still rung bells of truth in the words of this lesser being who was lying next to her.

"We are unable to perform half as much in double the time, thanks to our limitations."

"Well, I don't think this is a common perception..."

"It is not about the perception," stated Duriandal, bluntly. "I believe you know me well enough by now to know that perception does not affect me much."

Yeah, that was true, too.

"It is about truth. The truth about who we are, and who we choose to be."

"What now?"

"In truth, I am limited. Even more so by my condition. This condition that led me to be abandoned by my own parents in an orphanage halfway around the world." Her tone started to take a spiteful edge to it, very deep emotions welling up from the scars that hid them.

"I discovered my special talent through my condition. I had learnt that I was able to recall things vividly through memory. This included sight, sound as well as smell, although I do not recall physical sensation or taste as much."

"And in the end, I found that I had the opportunity to put it to use, and do something with it that no other, no Unicorn nor Pegasus, could do. And that is why I remain here, in Canterlot, as a perfumer," Duriandal concluded.

"You know... you don't have anything to prove to anypony," said Blitz.

"Do I not?"

"I don't think so... I mean, to me it sounds more like you're trying to prove something to yourself."

"I do not see it that way."

"I suppose you don't, but... you think of what it would be like in Cloudsdale quite a bit, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Beautiful place, with the pillars?"

"Yes."

Blitz pointed up to a large cloud that was lazily swimming overhead. It was one of those huge puffy ones, like the ones that would burst into rain at any moment, but still as white as a dove in winter.

"So why don't you just go to that cloud instead?"

"Instead of Cloudsdale?"

"Sure."

"They are entirely different."

"But if you're only looking up from the bottom, all clouds look the same."

...

"Listen, I know it's been difficult, Duri. You don't sound like you've had a good life, and I really can't say that I know what it's like to have endured what you went through.

"But if you really want to pick yourself up and show that you're not just some rotten apple left at the bottom of the barrel, then you have to start changing the way you look at things, sometimes, or else everything will just look like a lumpy old cloud for the rest of your life.

"And trust me when I say," she went on, when she was only met with silence, "that in this day and age, no one thinks down upon Earth ponies. In fact, Earth ponies do a lot of things that us Pegasus ponies and even these magic abusing Unicorns can't. You Earth ponies run the show, you know that? You're naturally smarter, more flexible, and, I mean, come on, look. Look at you. If there's any proof that an Earth pony can make it big out of his or her element, just look at yourself.

"And no, it's not because you tried hard to fight the system, it's really because the system let you. If you really were right about Earth ponies being the 'lesser being', you wouldn't have made it no matter what you did! But here you are, and you're doing well."

...

"Duri, you still with me?"

"Yes. I am... attempting to understand your words. The scope is... broad."

"Take your time, Duri, take your time."

They lay there, the two of them, contemplating on what had been said. Duriandal, more so, Blitz, simply just thinking about if what she said wasn't a bit too much out of her boundaries. She had only just met this crazy pony a bit more than a day ago, but she felt that she knew her as if they had been friends for months. Or was she the crazy one?

Things really did seem to speed by when it came to handling someone as free and honest as Duri, though. Normally it would take quite a while before ponies would open up to you like that, but she was a book lain bare, and not only so, but one that was throwing its words at you because it didn't know how to keep itself shut when necessary.

"Duri?"

"Yes?"

"Listen... I want to help you. As a friend."

"That... is appreciated," Duriandal replied, tiredly.

"But right now, I think we've both over-eaten, and we're nearly 24 hours without sleep. We ought to go get some rest, and then I'll cover some... basic stuff with you about relationships and all that, ok?"

And this time there was no reply, for Duriandal had drifted off into a shallow nap, right there on the pavement, while staring into the sky.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Are we supposed to be here, Sarge?"

"Probably not."

"Sarge... this is breaking and entering, it is," Rebby said, nervously.

"Nah, see, if you don't break anything, it's just 'entering' isn't it? And entering isn't against the law."

"Uh... Sarge..."

"Relax your flank, Berry," Canary smirked. She pushed the doors open, which fell into place, leaving a showering of dust as they flew apart. "Back when you were... interrogating that Twilight character, I was chatting it up with our dear friend Princess Celestia. This is one of her personal libraries and Twilight Sparkle's ex-home."

"What, she only lives in libraries, Sarge?"

"I dunno, don't look at me," Canary shrugged. "Anyway, she gave us permission to use it for 'reference'."

"That seems a bit..."

"What, Berry?"

"Oddly convenient, Sarge."

"Well, odd conveniences do happen, Berry. Besides, it only came up because Princess Celestia said that she'd make all her resources available, as well as Twilight's, and I said, well, what can Twilight do? and she said, well, she likes books."

"She likes books, Sarge?"

"She likes books, Berry. Explains the library thing, huh?"

"She must be a real worm, Sarge."

"A what?"

"You know, because she's a bookworm?" Rebby started sniggering.

"Berry... that was..." Canary stared at her, "terrible. Just... absolutely terrible."

"Sorry, Sarge."

"I'm not forgiving you for that one, Berry," she replied, as they entered the dark and musty trove of knowledge. It had been so long since anypony had stepped inside that they left clear imprints on the layer of fine lint that carpeted the floor, and every move they made caused something to shake itself free from its dusty trappings.

"Aw, c'mon, Sarge, I'm sleepy," Berry whined, her pitiful echoes bouncing off the layers of bookshelves. "I can't think well."

There was no response. They already had a nap earlier, anyway.

"Big place, Berry," remarked Canary, to herself. And it was quite large indeed. Far larger than their entire station, for goodness sakes. Rows upon rows of shelves upon shelves, and even a balcony for who knows what reason. There were more books up there too. But despite their general disuse, they were all shelved neatly, and everything was in its place.

"Guess they haven't been reading much since Twilight left, huh?"

"No, I suppose not, Berry."

She walked up to the nearest bookshelf, the one beside the counter, and took a quick scan of the brass plaque that informed the surveyor of the contents of each shelf.

"It's all... books on science over here. Berry? Check the others."

Berry clicked her heels in response and ran down the other side, looking through all the books on one of the middle shelves in order.

"We got... astronomy, astrology, aesthetics, applied philosophy, analytics, anti-matter physics..." she stopped, a pile of dirt bunching up beneath her hooves. "What were all those words I just said, Sarge?"

Over on Canary's side, there were books such as socio-economics, state of matter mechanics, syntax, systems philosophy and 'oral literature methodologies' a.k.a. storytelling.

Clearly they were dealing with a particularly specialized library here, and possibly the lack of patronage wasn't due to it being closed. The door was open when they got here, after all. Canary had only assumed that Celestia sent ahead to have the place unlocked, but now she wasn't so sure.

"I don't have the faintest idea, Berry. Celestia sure reads some cryptic manure." she said slowly. "I think we're going to need backup on this one."

"Oooh, oooh, I got it, I got it!" bounced the frantic light-red pony to the entrance, ever eager to help. Also, she loved playing with the messaging system.

At the core of it, the messaging system was simple. The problem was, how would you communicate over long distances, over a wide area, without direct line of sight and with fairly immediate results? Unless somepony discovered a way to instantly send scrolls magically to each other or something like that, and haha, who's going to come up with that? they had no choice but to use the device.

The problem was simplified by the fact that they had Silver. Silver was not, by any means, the fastest Pegasus alive, but she could make it to the castle and back from the station in eleven seconds flat. Which was impressive, considering.

So all you needed, really, was Silver.

Quick Silver, with all her many faults, had one thing to her credit, and that was her amazing gift of sight. She could see for miles around, and spot things way off in the distance that was merely a speck to other ponies. It was her special ability, and something that served her well as the station's spotter cum messenger cum everything else-r.

They did kind of shovel the loose jobs to her, but she never minded. She was pretty happy for the work and the chance to move around, which really, was all she wanted.

And this was why she noticed when Berry let loose that little specially treated bunch of embers up into the sky, waving it in a special symbol that they had worked out in the past. This symbol meant 'get your flank over here A.S.A.P.', and Silver always responded when she saw it.

And when she didn't, it meant she was busy, and asking her to deliver messages was out of the question anyway, so it all worked out no matter what.

"Why do you love that so much, Berry?" Canary asked, inquisitively.

"I dunno Sarge. I'm attracted to anything red and glowing," said Berry distractedly, concentrating on her task, eyes upward to heaven and horn focused on the bundle. Somepony in the station had been able to mix some chemicals together, and soak a simple bunch of straw in it, so when lit, it would burn bright and glowing red, allowing it to be seen both day and night.

It was an elegant solution to an elegant problem. One that would have to do until somepony invented something better.

Over the horizon, a blur of gold atop silver came streaking out of the roofs of the buildings deep below, making a beeline toward Canary and Berry.

"I think we're in luck, Berry," Canary squinted.

"Yeah? She seen us?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's her. You can drop the flare now, Berry."

Constable Berry did as she was told, stamping the fire out on the ground.

Very gently, four silver hooves touched down in front of the library.

And their messaging system had arrived.

"Alright, we need... we need an expert," said Canary, to Silver. "And don't worry this time. Princess Celestia's not going to be making a personal appearance."

"Ya wan' I should get tha' Twilight Spark' again, boss?" she asked.

"Yeah. Tell her we need her help to find... a book."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Blitz Breeze, who usually knew where (and why, more importantly) she had fallen asleep at any given period of rest, awoke to find herself not knowing where she was.

Oh she knew why. It was a simple case of Sandwich Nap-attack, which is the worst kind of nap-attack there is, because it gets you without you knowing. It sneaks up on you like an evil little weasel, and bites you on the back of the head, and injects its sweet, pleasant sleep juice right into your mind, and as you slowly succumb to the lush softness of your bed, you thank, that's right, you thank the evil little weasel for its somnolent potions...

Hey, this was soft. And unless the sidewalk had miraculously turned all marshmallow on them, she was actually sleeping on a bed.

She blinked her eyes and looked around, still dazed from the deep slumber that had encapsulated her mind. She had vivid and pleasant dreams. Dreams of dancing cookies and grinning cupcakes and spaghetti on top of strawberry shortcake oh my.

She smacked her mouth. She felt hungry again.

That was when she noticed the second thing, which was that she was in a very small bed with company.

"Gyah!" she yelped, falling out of bed onto the hard wooden floor. A little soft cloud puffer landed solely on her face, as she knocked against a nightstand on the way down.

On the bed, the little svelte figure of Duriandal was still snoozing away, resting her weary head. She'd hogged the blanket, that little snot.

Ah jeez, it was already late evening. They were supposed to go to the police station today to follow up on that weird thing, and she had to go back home and close the window before some prankster stuffs a raincloud in her studio and fills it up again like last time. Why'd they have to fall asleep at such a strange hour? Why?

Although they were absent from the threat of immediate terror, the night-time still held feelings of discomfort for Blitz, and no doubt for Duriandal as well, who didn't let things go easily, she noticed.

It would probably do them both a bit of good to get out of the house and find somewhere else to stay for a while.

The true test of a pony, now, was then to wake someone else up and face their morning face. If she could do just this...

Well, let's go for it.

"Duri? It's time to get up," she said slowly, approaching with dire caution.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

It was only fifteen minutes they had to wait, but those fifteen minutes were pretty long in the eyes of Sergeant Canary. She had busied herself by making a sweep of the un-swept library, while Berry dozed off in the corner. She didn't mind, though, they had been working pretty long hours since the start of this whole mess, and there didn't look to be any rest for a while coming.

A sharp rap at the door caught both of their attention, as their training kicked in and put them both in serviceable condition in mere instances.

"A'vance notice, boss!" yelled Silver through the open doorway. Behind her, hazy in the setting sun, was the silhouette of a balloon touching down, and a pony hopping out.

"Twilight Sparkle. Pleasant to see you again," said Canary as she exited the library, tapping Silver on the back when she passed. "Thanks, Silver. I'll take it from here. Hang around for now."

Silver trotted off to her own devices as Berry joined the group, nodding a hello to the pupil of Princess Celestia.

"Hi officers," said Twilight, bubbly. She looked ready, willing, and all too eager to help. "Sorry we're late, but Corporal Silver told me you were looking for a book. And while you certainly picked the right pony to help you with all things in-te-lectual, heh heh..."

She 'bashfully' put a hoof to her chest to accentuate the professionalism.

"I brought along somepony else much more suited for the job."

"Some...pony else? Miss... there's only..."

And there it was. There was a sound. It almost sounded like the screech of a bomb as it flew through the air, and it almost gave Canary reason to cringe upon impact.

"....eeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!" the noise turned into a high-pitched yell of excitement, as a fuzzy pink thing leapt out from the basket of the large air balloon, landed on one hoof, and then did some sort of dance.

And then, it started giggling inanely.

"Pinkie," Twilight nudged her. "You were supposed to behave!"

"Oh, it's ok, isn't it?" she said, talking on overdrive. She started hopping around, much to the amusement of Constable Berry, who had trouble concealing her grin. Canary didn't feel as delighted.

"Ma'am, this is an official police investigation..."

"Oooooh, the police?" Pinkie said, stopping and poking her head up to them at an odd angle. "Do you drive a fast cart? Do you have a crossbow? Do you like cupcakes?"

"Cupcakes, what have cupcakes..." began Canary.

"Because I brought hundreds!!!" squealed Pinkie Pie in delight, as she yanked out a picnic blanket from the balloon. It looked like someone had tied up a piano in there.

"I've got chocolate, coconut, strawberry, blackberry," Pinkie Pie went on, as the red-and-white chequered blanket unravelled and spread itself over the ground, cupcakes pouring out in every direction.

Two even made their way down the hill and started making a mad dash for freedom.

"Raspberry, cinnamon, cookie dough, carrot crunch..."

"Pinkie." came the shaken and nervous tone of Twilight Sparkle. She was ruining her chance to impress the police.

"White chocolate, Dark chocolate, Pink chocolate..."

"Pinkie."

"I have... oh, this isn't a cupcake at all, it's a muffin!" Pinkie Pie held it up triumphantly.

"I'm sorry, officers," said Twilight Sparkle, head hung low.

"Uh... it's... alright," said Canary. "Are you... certain she can help us? No eating on the job, Berry!"

Berry dropped the cupcake she had pilfered from the stack, which was about to be chomped on with gusto, a dejected look on her face.

What did she do to deserve this? Two fillies and somepony that needed constant positive reinforcement or else she would explode, by the looks of it. Unbelievable. And one of the fillies was hers.

"Yes, officer, despite all appearances, Pinkie Pie here can really help out, I hope."

"You don't sound too confident."

"I mean, she definitely will be able to help, isn't that right, Pinkie?" Twilight grabbed her by the neck and dragged her over as if on a leash. "So if you... wouldn't mind... we'll... get right to work here..."

Twilight started dragging the hyperactive pink smear into the library as she struggled against her tight iron grasp, although from the way Canary figured she was just struggling because it was what someone did in that situation, and Twilight wasn't really that strong.

The door shut on them with a loud slam.

Canary shifted her lower jaw around, unsure of what kind of expression to give.

"... Thoughts, Berry?"

"I dunno, Sarge. Twilight seems to think she can help."

"How long do you think before they realise we haven't told them what to look for yet?"

"I dunno, Sarge. I dunno."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

They had walked a good manner of roads in search for an adequate place to 'store' Duriandal for a couple of hours while Blitz would make her way back to Cloudsdale in order to tie up loose ends and put an extended away sign on her door.

They had ended up here.

"What does 'Pouze' mean?" Duriandal asked, looking up at the brightly lit letters that adorned the front of the nightclub. It was one of those freakishly up-market joints where the name of the place was sort of propped up and sticking out of the wall, with light pouring out from behind it, successfully drawing Ponies from all over to it as it made its firm standing as one of Canterlot's greatest night destinations.

Also it had uneven walls that made the whole thing look like a Rubik's Cube gone suicidal.

"I have no idea," pondered Blitz. These sort of places didn't really have names that made sense, anyway. It was always either some corruption of a regular word or something that they made up. This one sounded like someone had dropped some ice cream from a height and wrote down the noise it made.

"Welcome to Le Pouze," said the bouncer at the entrance, allowing a couple of ponies past the red velvet-lined queue barrier.

This might not have been the best of her ideas, but Blitz didn't really know the area very well, and if anything, there was safety in numbers. Right?

Right?

Oh boy.

"Ok don't worry."

"I am not worried," Duriandal said, curiously staring up into the big flashing sign, as if trying to dissect it in her mind.

"No? Good, because I am. Just do what we talked about and you'll be... relatively fine. I hope."

"I am confident that I will be able to perform under the conditions of your briefing, Blitz Breeze."

"It's only going to be a couple hours at the most, and I'll be right here and I'll come in and find you, and then we can leave, ok?"

"Can I go in now?"

Blitz gave Duriandal a hard look.

"You're not... excited to go in, are you?"

"I am. I have not indulged in such entertainment before, and while it might be better off under quieter circumstances, I will appreciate the new experience nonetheless."

"Uh... alright! That's good then, you're... fired up about it. I like that. I think."

"I am all fired up," said Duriandal.

"Ok so just... observe, alright? Don't try to do anything. Please. And I'll be back before you know it and we can go somewhere else."

"I think I will be fine, Blitz Breeze. But I appreciate the concern."

"Also, you're... ok all up there, right?" She waved her hoof at her head in a circular motion. "You're not going to drop dead on me or anything, are you?"

"Likely, at the most, I will be found staring at a wall due to sensory overload, and then you will be able to find me regardless, so it does not matter."

"What? That's not..."

"That was... a joke, Blitz Breeze."

"Oh... oh. Ok. You know, it's hard to tell with you. Usually when people joke they change their voice a little? You know, just to let people know it's a joke."

"Then what would be the point?" asked Duriandal.

"Uh... we'll get into that later. I'll be back, ok?"

She walked backwards a little, making sure that Duriandal wasn't going to be run over by a herd of wild antelope or anything, before finally taking flight and gliding in the general direction of Cloudsdale. She felt a little pressure. Alright, Duri was a very smart adult and could take care of herself, but... this was just new, and maybe new things weren't that good for her. But on the other hoof, this would be distracting, and maybe she would be fine; after all, she made it all this way alone so far, right?

Oh you're thinking too much, Blitz, she thought, but thinking was all she could do.

Back on the ground, Duriandal made headway by walking past all the ponies who were queuing up for entry and approaching the big, tough bouncer at the door, decked out in a full suit. He was wearing sunglasses. At night. His cutie mark was a pair of sunglasses.

That's how committed he was.

"Back of the line, miss," he growled at her.

She turned to look.

"What about it?"

"... No, go to the back of the line."

"Oh, I wasn't aware I needed to, I am sorry," she said in earnest.

"You kiddin' me? She kiddin' me?" the bouncer turned to his bouncer buddy, who shrugged. "Oh wait, you're alone ain't ya?"

"Yes, I am very much alone tonight."

"Ok, ok, fine, go on in," he stepped aside, rolling his eyes as Duriandal meekly trotted in.

"Why the cute ones always gotta have attitude?" he muttered to his buddy.

And the attitude-free Duriandal marched determinedly in, eyes focused and narrowed at the task at hoof, as she passed by a poster that she did not bother to read.

"Tuesdays," it said, proclaiming the theme of the day. "Singles free."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

They'd found the book. They did it in much less time than Canary would have guessed they'd take, but things generally stopped surprising Canary a few years ago. This was an unprecedented method of working, but she didn't care as long as they got results, and they had better get results.

The two policeponies were standing 'guard' outside of the library doors, since Twilight had insisted that Pinkie Pie works best when no one was watching, and a lot of... things had to happen before the book could be found. Specifically what, she was not keen to divulge, but Twilight forced the point that the fewer ponies who went in the better, so Canary left it at that and let them go about their business.

The library was going through refurbishing, from the sounds of the last ten minutes.

"... no, no, the mental trauma has to come after the parental abuse," Canary argued, just as the door swung open again.

She cleared her throat.

"Fouuuund it!" chittered Pinkie, as she bounded out the door. Trailing a close second was Twilight, dragging her heels and looking very weary indeed. In front of her were floating three large, old tomes that she dropped just as Canary caught them in her own yellow-tinged aura of magic.

"... Hard day at the office?" asked Canary.

"Heh... you could say that," grinned Twilight, weakly. "Here's all the books on 'The Wicked Stable' that I... we could find. I'll do some more research when I get back home, if that would help."

"That would help very much, Miss Twilight. I'll make sure that Princess Celestia hears of your generous time." So easy to play them, thought Canary, as that one single sentence alone brought energy and life back to the bones of the old purple mare.

"Really? Would you?" Twilight Sparkled. "Oh, you needn't go through all the trouble... but if you are, mention how I'm going to work extra hard to find even more information for you, ok?"

"Will do, ma'am," Canary posted a sour grin.

"Ah... Pinkie, go on ahead without me, I have to... clean up in here," said Twilight, walking back into the library.

"And thank you, as well, for your co-operation and aid," Canary said to Pinkie Pie with a tip of the head.

"Oh, no problem! It was easy!" she said excitedly. "Awww, you girls didn't have any cupcakes!"

"I wanted a c... ow!"

"That's fine, miss. I'm sure there are others who will enjoy your treats more," said Canary, moving away from Berry.

"Okie Dokie Lokie!" Pinkie said, returning to the comfort of the balloon, and leaving all the cupcakes on the floor anyway.

The duo watched as the balloon sailed away, back toward Ponyville.

"That was... annoying."

"If you say so, Sarge."

"Look, doesn't matter. We got what we came here for. Let's go through these books, alright? And be careful, they're really fragile."

They poured over the covers of the three tomes that lay before them.

The pages flipped gently as Canary leafed through them, staring at the old faded letters on yellowing, crisping paper.

"These... look to be like some sort of collections of old stories and things like that," said Canary, analyzing the text. She really wondered if this would help them at all.

"Same here, Sarge," said Berry, going through another with deliberate gentleness.

They both searched through in mute for a while, the odd crash or shuffling coming from within the library.

"Think I got something, Sarge," said Berry. "Short entry, but I dunno, it seems to detail what we were missing out on."

"What's it say?" Canary said, still looking through her own book, coming across an old poem.

"Beware ye the Wicked Stable, the five what run rampant through the heart and discourage the mind," Berry dictated. "This is really odd wording, Sarge."

"It's really old," said Canary.

"Then there's something about how if you don't abstain from the call of the Wicked Stable, you will find yourself in ruin," she started to paraphrase. "And here's a list of the five... Oh, I see."

"Don't keep me on tenterhooks, Berry."

"avarice, , trespassprejudice, Hypocrisy and hubris, Sarge."

"That's the Wicked Stable?"

"Seems like, Sarge."

"I see, I see, makes sense," Canary's mind had started to churn. "It's just a list of things to avoid. The Wicked Stable. Stable in this case meaning a group or a collection. It's just archaic, that's all."

"What's hubris mean, Sarge?"

"They're all bad things, Berry. Lying, hate, greed... you know what trespassing is, and hubris means being a self-centered, proud sunnavamare. I guess the meaning's changed since way back when, but I think... I think we're looking at five crimes, Berry."

"Five old crimes?"

"Well, I mean, they still apply today, but if you stretch the meaning... I think we're looking at one of the first law books ever in pony history."

"Well gee whiz, Sarge. Not much of a book there, though is it? Just a bunch of hokey spooky stuff, like this bit here, about bewaring the Stable so as not to incur the wrath of justice."

"Yeah but that's all they had back then, just a bunch of scary stories to keep ponies straight. Now you have the police."

"You figure this is what they're basing their murder off, Sarge?"

"Well if they are, then we can expect another four. But it's too early to say, right?"

"There's a direct link, sarge. The thing drawn on the floor matches the book here exactly, just like Silver said, right, Sarge?"

"Well that's true, but it could be a coincidence, too. Could be just an accident for all we know."

"You think it's an accident, Sarge? I mean, like you said, there were a lot of messages left there, and we don't know what message means which... you thinking it's not related, Sarge?"

All these questions were getting to Canary. She was beginning to get irate under the constant bombardment of possibilities and pathways... she was never a very patient pony to begin with, but now with this new revelation, she was starting to take it personally.

"So if we follow this list of old crimes, then which one do you reckon the first murder was, Sarge?"

"Well, it's not entirely clear, but... the murder victim we found this morning. If she had been in the store and had been stealing... that's hypocrisy, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't that be uh... greed, Sarge?"

"Well... yeah, yeah it would, but in this case she stole perfume, not bits or anything. She stole a product to... make yourself smell better. That's the hypocrisy, not the theft itself," Canary frowned in deep thought.

"Well, could be that. Could even be that hubris thing in that case, because she was being vain, right?"

"I don't know, Berry."

"But it's kind of weird then, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Berry."

"Because if they were meaning to kill based on these five crimes, then why kill the thief and not the perfumer lady?"

"I don't know, Berry. Maybe because she was still a criminal? Maybe... the meanings are deeper. But I don't know. I just don't know!" she yelled, slamming the book shut, not reading the poem. "I don't know, ok? It's a stretch, what do you want me to do?"

She sighed in aggravation. It was this kind of thing that got to her. When you knew there was something there, just something, but it was just sort of a touch out of reach, and these conclusions that you came to might just be one of those coincidences they'd been talking about. There was always the chance that it wasn't even related at all. There was always the chance that that marking left at the scene was by pure luck and they'd been chasing the rabbit down the wrong hole.

There was really only one way to know for sure, and that was something that Canary absolutely, definitely hated, because while it would confirm things for them, it would also mean that they weren't catching up.

"We have to wait for another murder," said Canary, anger struggling to be contained in her quivering voice.

"Sarge?"

"That's how it works, if it's serial. Nothing you nor I can do. There's a murderer, or a group of them, out there somewhere, and the only clues that we can get are the ones they leave us at the scene. We just don't have enough information to do anything about it right now."

Canary stamped the ground angrily, letting loose some soil from between the cracks in the pavement. She was furious.

"Sarge."

"Not now, Berry!"

"SARGE!"

Canary was pulled back into reality with that sudden outburst. It was shocking enough that she let go of the strings of fury that held her within the thought, and came bobbing back to the surface, for just enough time to let Berry give her a verbal slap across the face.

"N... now Sarge, I know how you can get, and... and... listen here!" her subordinate started. "There's nothing we can do about it... and what you said is true! We... we are doing the best we can, and we have the best people working on it. People like you, and Silver, and everyone else down at the station... and... and... you can't... you can't go off like that because..."

Berry felt that Canary was going to leap across the road and strangle her. But yet, she swallowed it down and continued.

"Because that's what we do. And no matter what happens, we have to see it through, and find who did this. And you can't think when you're angry, and you get angry at such things. I know. I know. I'd get angry too. Bad... bad things happen, Canary, and we sometimes feel powerless to do anything, and sometimes we... we feel that we're lost because... we can't do anything to stop it yet.

"But if you really want to stop this... if you really want to stop this... then you'll control your anger, and be the Canary that was the reason why I joined the force!"

She stopped. There was nothing but crickets now. Even Silver was wise enough to bolt at earliest convenience, and the library remained still.

"Uh... Sergeant, sir!" she added, clicking her heels.

"Berry..." Canary said, much softer now.

"I will accept my reprimand, ma'am!"

"Berry... shut up."

She looked down at her hooves. This uniform that she wore, what it meant, everything that she stood for, and how, two years ago, she wanted this. She wanted this more than anything in the world. And here she was, and she had to deal. She didn't deal with things in the right way, sometimes, but that's why you needed a Berry around.

"Berry?" She said, after a moment passed.

"Yes, Sarge?" she replied. She sounded meek. Scared.

"Get the books, and with whatever space you have left in your bags, I want you to stuff full of cupcakes. We're going back to the station, and we're going to catch the little mare flankers who did this."

"Yes, ma'am!" she said, getting to work, smile and bounce returning with a vengeance.

"We'll leave now. By the time we get back, it'll be late. We'll take the shortcut through the park."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"And Berry..."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"... nothing. Let's go."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The lights were flashing on and off and on and off like a parade, and the music was heavy. There was a repetitious beat, a tune that was simplistic in nature but folded over itself in spades before any sort of refrain was in sight, and lyrics that simply did not make any sense.

I mean, come on, the answer to 'love' is not a rhetoric, and even if it were, a plea for the release of physical pain is a really bad metaphor.

Despite this, Duriandal really could, well, understand the music. A tad on the loud side, a bit pounding maybe, but it had a clear 4/4 timing and it knew what it was doing. This was music you could count to. Everything was sorted neatly into packages which was delivered to you right at the end of every staff, and you were never left wondering when things were going to change as most of the 'modern' music did.

But this crowd, yuck, it was something she just couldn't stand. She struggled to remain out of reach of the ponies squeezing past her as much as possible, trying her best not to touch anypony else. She did not enjoy that part.

At least it faded as she ended up in the main area of the club, a lively, bouncing place with a huge open dance floor and a very generously decorated bar just up some steps from it.

The area was decked out on the inside as it was on the outside; with strange, dark geometric shapes and thin beams of light that just screamed 'le Pouze' at you, whatever that was. But she had to agree that if anything was pouzey, this was as pouzey as you could possibly get.

The room was very dark, but that was only to accentuate the glowing trimming that each side table had, and also this immensely wonderful ball that hung in the center of the room, right above the dancing area. What was that? It glittered and bounced coloured light off...

Duriandal took her eyes away. She could feel herself locking up just looking at the thing. Death ball. Evil nasty death ball.

The dance floor was immediately condemned and deemed off limits as well. It was just a swathing, huge wave of ponies, all with strange sorts of clothing and these sticks that glowed, Unicorn, Pegasus and Earth alike all gathered in their masses. They were performing something that could vaguely be called dancing, if dancing meant jumping up and down in generally the same area while nodding your head rapidly and trying very hard not to trod on somepony else's hoof.

Not to mention it was crowned by the death ball.

Well, she'd have none of that, thank you very much. It was bad enough here with... hey! Watch out, what are you doing? Oh, don't touch me, please, it hurts, it hurts like fire.

She was swept up in the crowd of ponies who found opportunity in a whopping two foot square of space on the dance floor and rushed to claim it as their jumping spot, but had conveniently left an opening at the bar.

The bar wasn't any different than the rest of the club in terms of decor. The countertop was lacquered black, and it was slightly lowered such that one could have your body caressed by the bean bags that were placed equidistantly around the circumference of the bar area, and still be able to perch upon the bar top. It was rectangular, not the best of shapes, but it'd do. There were two bartenders tending each corner of the drinks station, standing in a lowered portion of the room such that they could be face to face with their customers.

In the middle of the bar was a lit-up column of bottles of every size and shape and name, and Duriandal couldn't help but compare it to the set-up that she had in her own store.

She nodded to herself. She did, indeed, approve.

But she needed some space. There was this faint scent in the air coming from the smoke machines that she immediately identified as a 2:4 mix of Gaultheria Procumbens and Mentha Spicata, and she focused on that as she went around the edge of the bar to the bean bag in the furthest corner.

It seemed cozier there, and she did not at all observe the fact that most of the patrons in that area were seated alone.

She did, however, notice that the smell hanging around in the air changed to Rosa Damascena. How very odd.

"Hey, what can I get the lonely lady?" said the handsome young Earth pony bartender, as Duriandal settled into her bag, a bit awkwardly.

"Um..." she hummed. "I do not know. This is my first time at your establishment."

"Not to worry, got a menu," he pulled one out from under the bar and slapped it on the table, "Right here."

Duriandal slid it toward herself with a tentative hoof, taking note of the arrangement of columns of drinks on the laminated, letter paper-sized menu, giving it a quick flip to check if there were - and there were - drinks printed on the reverse as well.

She looked at each side once, and then slid the menu back to the bartender, who hadn't even had time to turn away.

"Made up your mind already?" he said, jovially.

"No."

"Ah... well... then... don't you want to look over the drinks list a bit longer?"

"I have memorized the menu, thank you."

The pony backed up, tilting his head in disbelief. "Really."

"Yes, really."

"Alright, I'll bite," his eyes running down the drinks. "What's between... Sunset Marmalade and Cherry Bonanza?"

She tapped her hoof on the counter three times. Slowly at first. Three times, third column. And then it started to get rapid as she tapped another nine times to go down nine names in the list until she hit Sunset Marmalade; a concoction that will have you knowing about the Sweetness of day-end.

And one more tap.

"Orange Pekoe Burst. A gentle fusion of Orange Pekoe tea and Orange liqueur to give you that amazing harmony of flavour," she read off the menu.

"Huh!" exclaimed the bartender. "Come on, tell me the truth, you've been here before, haven't you?"

"No."

"Did Chocolate Cream put you up to this?"

"I do not know the pony you speak of," she smiled slightly. This was a strange new sensation; being proud of her ability in a place which didn't really call for it.

"Well... that's pretty amazing," stated the Bartender, stunned. "You know, I'd buy you that Orange Pekoe Burst, but it's against policy."

"Oh, the offer is not necessary," said Duriandal, wondering just what he would want to treat her to a drink for, anyway. "But I... notice that you are an Earth pony."

"Last time I checked, yeah."

"Is it hard?"

"Is what hard?"

"Being here, amongst Unicorns, and having to do the same thing as them."

"You know, I hadn't really thought about it," replied the bartender, wondering about the strange question. But he obliged, as polite as any other pony in the service industry. "But you do bring up an interesting point. I'm the only Earth pony bartender here, but... and I don't want to row my own boat here, but... I'm the best mixer in the house."

"Really?" it was Duriandal's turn to be surprised.

"Yeah, absolutely. Always get the best tips, always have customers call on me by name just to get that perfect Melon Sling, and I guess... you just got lucky tonight," he dripped charisma, all of which bounced off Duriandal and crept around the floor in search of acceptance.

Almost if he had read Duriandal's mind about what she wanted to know next, he continued. "And I don't think I put in any extra effort into it, or anything. I guess it's just something I'm good at, and that's that, even if it means I have to shake with my mouth instead of by magic. And some would claim that's what makes their drink. The Earth pony touch, you know?"

"I suppose I see," Duriandal said.

"So what can I get you and that beautiful mind of yours?"

"I do not know."

"But you know the whole menu."

"Yes... but... I do not know what anything is."

"So when you said it's your first time..."

"It is my first time, yes."

"Alright. Stepping out on Singles Night. I can respect that," he nodded repeatedly. "So I guess we oughta start you off on something light, then?"

"That might be a good idea," agreed Duriandal.

"Ok, I got just the thing. Also, since you're new to the whole scene, I'll drop a tip. Take your time with the drink. It's a convo starter, not something to make you fly. I assume you're not here to dance, so if you're looking for bangers you're in the wrong part of the house."

Duriandal had no idea what he said, but she nodded anyway, thanking him for the advice. The only thing she had understood completely was that she was to take her time with the drink. Possibly she would. She needed to stretch time out and wait for Blitz to return, anyway, assuming she would. Was she going to return? Maybe she made an excuse to leave and then just left. It wouldn't have been the first time somepony's done that to Duriandal, and Duriandal just took it as it came.

But anyway, new experiences!

And it wasn't one second that the bartender walked off before a voice came ringing out from the seat next to hers.

"I dunno if that's just a really good act, or you're actually just some kind of weirdo, but either way, nice routine."

She turned suddenly, stiffly, in her bean bag, nearly falling over thanks to the unstable nature of the seating, to gaze upon the one bestowing such odd compliment to her.

It was a pony, a Pegasus, in these stylish sunglasses that were obviously worn for the look rather than the function. They were oval, and rather flat, with silver rims and pink tint, and the pony peered over them, giving Duriandal the one-over.

She was as black as night. Practically black all over, the only things sticking out being her glasses and her bi-coloured mane, which alternated hues of blue in stripes as they came out and across her face.

She was also wearing a very small white coat, the kind with the fuzz on the end, and too small to actually button up, and some sort of designer spats that had little encrusted jewels in them.

Her clothing alone befuddled Duriandal. Nothing this pony wore made sense.

The distant beat of the drums changed pace as the song shifted into the next in the mix.

The rules repeated themselves through Duriandal's head.

Introduction. Commentation. Reciprocation.

"And you have very nice... clothing," replied Duriandal.

The black-winged pony stuck her neck out at Duriandal, studying her inquisitively. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Disbelief. Affirmation. Confirmation.

"Yes. I am serious about your nice clothing."

"Oh boy," said the mystery guest. "We have a winner here, don't we?"

Inquiry. Accomplishment. Erudition.

"Is... there some sort of contest that I should be aware of?"

"Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy," that other pony in the silly clothes was laughing. "Ok. Empty your mind."

"Excuse me?"

"Empty your mind. Just... clear it. think of nothing. Think of something else. Anything else."

"I don't..."

"Boy, that song has a great beat to it, doesn't it?"

"It has a well structured..."

"I wonder when the drinks will get here."

"Well, the barten..."

"Do you know how to get to Celestia's castle?"

"I do no..."

"Quick, what do you want to ask me?"

"Who are you and why are you talking to me!?" Duriandal blurted out.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" smirked the dark shadowy figure, as she sunk back into her bean-filled pod. "Just gotta know when not to know what not... to know... when... something."

"... who are you?" repeated Duriandal.

"Name's Night Flare, since ya asked," she leapt out of the chair again, leaning forward and to the side, and sticking a hoof out as an offering of friendship.

Duriandal stared down at the hoof as if it were covered with bugs.

"Um..."

"Not a shaker, that's fine, I can dig that," she withdrew her leg, "so, you gotta tell me, who put'cha up to this?"

"What... do you mean?"

"I mean who was the genius who sent you into a nightclub, thoroughly underdressed I might add, on Singles Night?"

"My friend..."

"Ain't no friend," Flare sat back, in brazen pride. "Ain't no friend who'd do something this mean."

"Mean?"

"Well yeah! I mean, you're totally out of your element. You don't have to be a genius to see that," she propped herself forward again. Duriandal wish she'd just pick a posture and stick with it. "I dunno about you, and I don't wanna be harshin' on your friend, but it seems pretty mean to me."

"No, she is not like that. This is some kind of mistake."

"Alright, chief, if you say so. Didn't catch your name, by the way..." she offered a hoof again.

There was pause as the bartender dropped the drink on the countertop with a wink and walked off to tend other parts of the bar.

"Duriandal."

"Well, miss Duriandal, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she withdrew the leg.

Duriandal was just confused now. Confused by a lot of things, and the environment wasn't very conducive to deep thinking. There was this voice in her ear that wouldn't keep quiet and kept on saying things that... made a lot of sense, really, but couldn't possibly be true... and she was being really pushy and this was new because she had never been in the position where someone was trying to talk to her against her wishes.

It was kind of an odd sensation. She had yet to decide if she enjoyed it or not.

She took a sip of the drink.

It felt warm and runny down her throat. It had apples in it, definitely. That was about as far as she got.

Duriandal blew a bit of air out of her mouth like a child trying to learn how to whistle, vapours streaming past her tongue.

"So, that was a neat trick with the memory thing. Tell me how you did it. Go on." said the voice again.

"I memorized the menu."

"No, really, how'd you do it? Mirrors? You got a copy of the menu somewhere on you?"

She suddenly came to a sudden realisation that made her perk up.

"You guys aren't playing me are you? Am I on some kind of show?"

"I memorized the menu."

"Couldn't possibly. In like what, half a minute?"

"I memorized the menu."

"Prove it."

"I do not believe I am required to show you proof."

"No you don't, but, oh come on, there isn't anything else to do, right? It'll be really easy if you're all that, go on!"

Duriandal sighed. Again, she was correct. There was nothing else to do. Nothing that a pony like Duriandal would remotely call 'do-able' in a nightclub, anyway.

"Very well."

"Ok ok. I'm gonna name a whole buncha things and you're gonna repeat them back at me, aight?"

"This will not work."

"Why not? Memory feeling weak?" she jostled.

"Because even if I do remember the sequence, you yourself might not."

"Oh ow, burn!" Flare threw her forelegs up in the air. "But you gotta point. Gotta point. Ok ok, how about this. No wait, that won't work either..."

"How about," Duriandal suggested. "You retrieve a menu, and I read the first ten drinks off the list. If I get them all correct, will you concede and leave me alone?"

"That's a... that's a great idea," Flare said, putting emphasis on the sentence. "I shoulda thought of that, really. Ok, agreed, but only to the first part."

"What do you mean?"

"I might not wanna leave you alone."

"I do not require your company!"

"Woah, woah, hey hey," Flare cringed and made the universal 'keep your voice down' leg motions. "Don't wanna be yelling that in this kind of place on this night, yeah?"

"Ok, listen," she bargained. "I know... I can be a bit... overwhelming sometimes, but just get to know me, alright? I'm cool, I promise. I'm totally straight up legit. I'm just enjoying myself, and honestly, I think you should be too. I wasn't kidding about the jerk who put you in here, but doesn't mean you can't make the best of it, right?"

"You... know this place well?"

"Yeah, sure, come here all the time. 'Specially on Tuesdays, you get in free."

"Alright. I will... consider what you have said."

"Yeah you do that, and while you do..." she stuck up a leg "Waiter, menu please!"

Duriandal sighed to herself. It was going to be a long night.

---

Flare and Duriandal stumbled out of the club, together, Duriandal preferring to stick close to the wall just in case she had to lean on it for a while. Her head was spinning. She only had three drinks but that last one was a kick in the flank.

Amazingly though, her mind was quiet. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't thinking. The busy roads that infested her thoughts lay abandoned, and where once it was a busy thoroughfare with 24 hour traffic, it was now a quiet lane in the countryside, with the odd cart passing by without a touch of sound.

This was good but not good, because anytime she did think of anything, which was necessary sooner or later, she felt like throwing up.

Flare was pretty much normal for her usual self, if not even more talkative than usual. Her eyes were half-closed though, but it was pretty late and she had quite a few more drinks than Duriandal had.

"Look, dude, Duriandal," she said, poking her in the chest. Duriandal didn't even care about that anymore. "You're cool. Ok? You're really weird, but you're super cool. And that freaky-flank memory of yours? Wooooooooooo!"

She screamed at the night.

"I'm telling you, that bartender was totally into you, you know that?"

It was a one-sided conversation. Duriandal just stood there along the outer wall of the club trying to hold it together.

"But hey... I know where you live now... I'll come visit one of these days, yeah? Sounds... pretty cool, I mean, even I could use some... uh... perfume once in a while."

Duriandal thought that she was still in the bar, but she realised the pounding in her head wasn't the music. It did keep steady 4/4 beat though.

"I really... really need a shower. So I'm gonna take off, maybe get some fresh air, take in the night, you know."

Duriandal decided it would be a really good time to sit down.

"Uh... yeah, you... you'll be alright," she looked at the bouncers still standing guard. "Just don't wander off, ok?"

Duriandal held up a hoof to say yes. Oh colt it felt like her hair was melting. Was her hair melting?

"... aight. You take care, dude."

And Flare shuffled off into the night, heading toward some alone time.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"FREEZE!" yelled Canary. The whole scene, shrouded in darkness, trees and grass in the background, and playground equipment, stood still as the tick of the clock wore down the action.

Berry pulled out a flare from her bag, cupcakes exploding out as she yanked it from the bottom.

Canary's horn burst into life as she showed off just what her special ability was.

In the distance, a lonely figure ran for her life, but was cut short as rings of magical energy erupted around her ankles and wings.

They felt like magnets, and pull them together, hoof to hoof, wingtip to wingtip, halting her movements and sending her sprawling painfully to the ground.

In between them lay a body, and a small paper bag.

Canary ran up to the pony who was beating a hasty retreat. She was covered in blood, apparent on the stark whiteness of her jacket.

Already, the flare was up in the sky, signalling a retrieval.

"I said freeze," Canary stated, standing over the moon-lit figure.

"I didn't do nothing," cried Night Flare. "I didn't do nothing!"

MEZZO

The sky crackled to life as lighting gave shape to surroundings, and thunder roared out the sound of pouring rain. They both lasted only a second, but that was enough for the farmer to get his bearings.

He'd known the area for many years, but even so, it was still foreign in the dark. It was still frightening.

Why wouldn't it, though? Does a fisherman know the length and breadth of the sea? Does a carpenter know every plank of wood?

He was lost in his own orchard.

The mud caked up on his legs, weighing him down, as he pushed through and around peach trees, struggling to maintain his pace and his balance.

The lightning crackled again.

The farmer stumbled, and fell, hitting his head hard on an empty barrel.

Dizziness overcame him, as he lay gasping for air in an inch of water, as the torrents hailed down from the skies.

And there it was.

The figure crept up to him. Eyes blazing red, walking above the mud and water and muck, each step careful and poised. It smiled.

There were breaks in the smile, as if it were a mouth that had not been fully formed; skin stretching over the teeth in places. And when it closed its mouth it looked like the mouth wasn't even there.

It could have been just the farmer's imagination. It could have just been a trick of the night, or a blink of the eye, but there wasn't much left to the farmer's imagination.

The pony, or something much like it, stepped up to the farmer, and peered into his soul.

And then there was a scream.

A figure in a cloak flew in, mere minutes later, landing where the farmer had been.

The figure looked around, surveying the scene, and all that was to be seen in the night.

Beneath the figure's hooves lay the body of the farmer, collapsed upon itself in foul mockery of life. It looked as though it was reaching out toward a tree to grab something.

Rather, his leg was propped up upon a tree, a tree which, when the lighting took once again, showed three sides to a box, and two angles to a roof, upside down, and drawn in mud, around the hoof-print of the farmer.

The figure merely looked morose. There was no time for pity to be had.

Others would come soon.

Others would be preparing for their fates.

And the figure took off, leaving the farmer alone with the trees.

END MEZZO

The One Who Eats the Tail Pt 1

- Excerpt: 'Ancient Equestrian Cautionary Rhymes and Tales'
Circa Unknown

In the life of a pony, mare or stallion, there comes a time when one simply looks at something and immediately discards it as an impossibility. Be it an impossible action, or an unbelievable feat of physical prowess, our breaths are taken away by the breaking of the rules of life as we know it. It is at this point when we refuse to believe, as creeping doubt encroaches upon our thoughts, or we blame our senses for this faulty input.

Sometimes it's even harder to accept what is in front of our eyes if we are looking through a hazy fog caused by one too many alcoholic beverages.

But for Duriandal, her senses usually do not lie. She had a certain level of trust with her senses, being to her like old friends, and when they told her a tale of questionable reality, she was more inclined to figure that reality must be the one at fault.

This is why, when she saw the figure of a certain Pegasus fly overhead, she immediately came to the conclusion that something very wrong was happening, indeed.

Best to talk to somepony about this.

Best to talk to somepony.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Hey man, cut me a little slack?" came the muffled inquisition of the pony that lay on the ground. Night Flare lay, trussed up like a turkey, on the hard rocky ground of the pavement that cut through the park. Around her, a wide open space of grass was irregularly sprinkled with trees and bushes; the general atmosphere only interrupted by a small children's playground that was placed rather neatly in the middle of a sandbox.

Of course, there wasn't really any point in looking around much, since only the lamps that walked hand in hand with the path gave any sort of light, overshadowing the moon.

"Be quiet, you," came the gruff reply. Sergeant Canary tapped her hoof impatiently, awaiting the arrival of Quick Silver and her cart. Far behind her, Berry was scrambling around worriedly, although it wasn't too clear if she was more worried about the situation or the fact that all those lovely cupcakes were strewn about the general landscape like some kind of artistic piece.

"Whaddabout my rights, copper?"

"You have the right to not annoy me. Anything you say can and will result in a hoof up your a..."

She was cut short by a general noise behind her, one that signalled the arrival of the cart and all the necessary equipment.

"Hey boss," said Silver, hauling the cart alongside. "Where'd ya wan' I shou' set down?"

"Over there, by the trees. Stay out of the pavement if you can," Canary instructed, to which Silver set about her general duties.

"Alright," she said to the figure on the floor, who was currently flopping around like a crab on fire. "You're going to take a quick trip to impound, alright?"

"I didn't do nothing!" Flare repeated, for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah? We'll find that out later, won't we?"

"You can't arrest me on that!"

"You're being arrested for running away when I very quite nicely told you not to," Canary stated. "Besides, you are essentially covered in blood, and you touched the body. You'd have to go in anyway."

"Alright, alright, I'll be nice. Just let me loose, please. I have gravel in my mouth!" she pleaded.

"Sorry, you kinda used up your free pass," Canary replied, turning to leave. "Don't worry, the flight will be really quick."

Berry was studying the scene as Canary whistled sharply, and she immediately appeared by her side.

"Ma'am?"

"Help me with this, Berry."

Together, with minimal effort, they hoisted the flailing Night Flare up into the air and floated her toward the cart, setting her down in the back amongst all the equipment. There, they started to remove specific items from the back and place them on the floor.

It was but a simple command that Silver took off again with the prisoner in tow, hoisting her back to the station for a quick processing and some time in the holding cell.

And really, that was it. It was just the dull procession of things that happened anytime you had to make an arrest. Canary didn't enjoy it. If anything, it served to reinforce her current hatred and contempt for ponies, and that only served to extend her bitterness to the world that she lived in.

In the end, it all came down to this. Berry had argued many a time with Canary about the goodness and hope and love of ponykind, but the proof was in the pudding, and the pudding was now in the form of the second dead body they had come across in under a week.

The opposition was found lacking of a comeback.

Before the coroner arrived, however, there was time to survey the scene and perform some due diligence.

"In this weather, too," muttered Canary. It was cold; natural for the time of night, but there was a killing frost that crept around and chewed on her bones. "Ok, let's go, Berry."

"Right Sarge. So while you were busy with the runner, I had a look around."

She walked around the corpse, giving it a wide berth. She was weary and tired, so much so that the natural bounce in her step had worn off and she delivered her report with less flair than usual.

"This time it's a Unicorn, Sarge. No identification, but we can get that back at the station. Like the first body, it seems that she was dropped out of the sky onto that other pony, and it seemed quite deliberate from what we saw."

"Yeah. Looked like."

"It isn't clear if the body was meant to land that close to the runner, but I think we can assume that she was meant to see it at least."

"At least," repeated Canary, equally as worn out.

"Um... I dunno, sarge," came Berry's usual mantra, something she said out of habit whenever she was still in the process of gathering her thoughts. "The coroner'd have to determine if the fall was the cause of death or not, but from the looks of it, it seems pretty similar to the original."

"Same blood pattern?"

"Yeah, Sarge. A lot less than normal, and no tracks. Some dripping coming in from the West, so we know she was bleeding as she came in."

"Let's remember that. We need to get someone to see if we can trace it to the source, maybe find out where the initial attack was committed."

"Right, Sarge. Probably can get Silver on it. Anyway, there's nothing much else except that this time we were here to see the drop."

"Alright," Canary said, starting to kick her brain into gear. Her mind was like an engine; and sometimes in the cold it wouldn't start without a bit of persuasion.

"Oh, and this one thing, Sarge." Berry came to a stop on the far end of the body, standing over a small paper bag. "This seems odd."

"What's that, Berry?"

"It looks like a bag, Sarge," she pointed out with all obviousness. "I think it was dropped along with the body."

"What makes you say that? Couldn't it just be a bit of trash?"

"Well, it's got a spot of blood on it, Sarge."

"So does the pavement, Be..."

"Nah, Sarge, I mean... if you look at it, it doesn't look like a drop, Sarge. It looks like a line, like it was stretched."

"Couldn't it have fallen onto the bag and just trickled down?" Canary asked, walking over to inspect the bag herself.

"Well... I reckon... I reckon, Sarge, that if it came down from that high, it'd look like if you dropped a pie, because one time, I dropped a pie from the third storey of a building, and it went splat, and went all over."

"What?"

"But one time, I tripped and accidentally spilt my ice cream on the wall, and it sort of just stuck there and dribbled down slowly."

"Berry, are we still talking about the bag?"

"Yeah Sarge! What I mean is... this blood looks like it was spilt onto the bag from really up close and then dribbled down."

Somehow, in all those food analogies, there was some kind of sense being made, regardless of the strange subject matter. Maybe this was just how Berry thought of things. Either way...

"Not bad, Berry. That's some good thinking," Canary rewarded her.

"Really, Sarge?"

"Yeah, except... I don't think it dribbled down, I think it may have dribbled to the side."

"What do you mean, Sarge?"

"What I mean is that... if you were a Pegasus, and you were somehow able to carry and fly off a dead body... how would you carry it?"

"I dunno, Sarge. Probably on my back or something?"

"And where would you carry a bag?"

"In my mouth, Sarge?"

"So if the bag is in front of the body..."

"... there wouldn't be any blood on it," Berry finished.

"Exactly. Meaning the bag was behind the body, and a stray drop of blood hit it in midair as it was being flown... and the blood streaked in the wind, sideways."

"That'd be pretty hard for a Pegasus to do, Sarge."

"That'd be pretty hard for one Pegasus to do."

"Oh... OH!" Berry perked up at the sudden realisation. "You're saying..."

"Two Pegasus ponies. Yep. At least."

"Well... that... that is just brilliant, Sarge!"

"No, it really isn't," Canary said bitterly. It was brilliant when one invents fire. It was brilliant when Princess Celestia comes up with a new spell that serves to aid ponykind. It was brilliant when the flowers bloomed every Spring. It wasn't brilliant when one had to make a distinction by stopping ponies from killing each other. It was just sad and pathetic.

"Well... I think so."

"If you say so. Anyway, we'll have to mark the bag for processing, and we can't touch it until Silver gets here to take pictures first. What else is there?"

"Well, I don't see anything else, Sarge, but it's pretty dark out. Maybe we should set up the flood lights?"

"Yeah, we'll do that. Also, I want to see if anyone actually saw those Pegasus ponies flying overhead. Maybe we can find a witness or something."

"Might be hard, Sarge. Don't think there'd be ponies out this late at night. We do have the one witness at the station already."

"Don't think she saw it coming, though."

"Nah, might not have, Sarge."

"Well, let's just hope we can find somepony, just one single pony, that might have seen something."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"What do you mean you saw something?" asked Blitz.

There was a tone of concern in her voice, but that was mainly because she didn't really intend on finding Duriandal lying face-down in the middle of the street outside the club. Either she had finally embraced social standards or they had rejected her entirely. Whichever it was, it was hard to tell because they generally both led you to the same result.

"What I mean is that I have seen something that I wasn't intending on seeing," whispered Duriandal. She had long since stopped trying to stand up, and had found it more comforting to curl up against the wall and hope the nice bouncers kept the bad things away from her.

"Ok, Duri, calm down. I'm here, ok? What did you see?"

"It was that... thing again."

"That thing?" Blitz sounded alarmed. "That thing that we saw back at your house?"

"Yes! That thing! Why is it here, Blitz? Why?" her quavering voice reached a frantic pitch that might have drowned out the thumping beat of the music that came through the wall of the club. "Why is it following me?!"

It probably wasn't going to help, but Blitz took a nervous look around anyway. It was just something that ponies did when you feel like danger is around. Not as if they could really do anything about it if that thing just happened to stroll up and tip his hat at them.

"Uh... are you sure it was... the same thing?"

"Yes, it had the eyes, Blitz. It was definitely the same!"

"Did you see anything else?"

"No. It was dark. But those eyes... are unforgettable, would you not agree?"

"Yes. Quite so," muttered Blitz. Truthfully, they were the only things that she could remember; that and that odd smile. Given Duriandal's abilities of recollection, the chances that she could be wrong were slim.

"Why, Blitz? You said it would be safe, but it is not!"

"I'm... I'm sorry, Duri. You're right. I shouldn't have made assumptions," she tried to defuse the situation. "Let's go straight to the police, alright?"

"I would like that."

"What... what are you doing out here, anyway?" she had to ask, as she lent a wing to Duriandal to help get her back to her hooves. "I thought you would be in the club."

"I was. But I had met a pony who was very nice although a bit frightening at the start and she bought me a few drinks and she had to go home so we both walked out and then I felt strange and decided to have a sit down and then I saw that... that thing."

"Ok, dear, I know you're stressed out, but you're going a mile a minute again."

Duriandal repeated herself, slowly.

"Well, at least the evening didn't go that badly, right?" Blitz said, attempting to cheer the little green pony up. "Sounds like you made a new friend. That's two for two now."

Duriandal remained quiet as she wobbled a bit on her legs.

"Alright, look, I don't know where the station is, so you're going to have to lead me. But we'll go together, and we'll go there now. You feeling ok to walk?"

"Yes, Blitz. Thank you for your concern."

And at a hasty clip, they began their way toward safer harbours, stepping past a small drop of blood that was left unnoticed by everypony around.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The light shed itself onto the scene, with four large poles hoisting them up at each corner of the grounds of the incident. It made things a little clearer, although there wasn't much else to see outside of the finer details of the things they had already found.

Silver had returned, having left Night Flare at the station's lockup, with the coroner in tow, who looked extremely cheerful to have two midnight details in a row.

"Hi, Mister Bowler!" greeted Berry, as he jumped off the cart and shook himself awake.

"Eeeh, whatever," he said, going straight toward the body.

Berry smiled.

"Silver, do us a favour and do some groundwork? Leave the camera with Berry. There seems to be a blood trail from here to who-knows-where. See if you can somehow follow it to the source."

"Oooh, gimmie!" said Berry, yanking the camera off the cradle that sat mounted around Silver's neck. She really loved her gadgets.

"Aye boss. Ey, take good care'a that, Rebs," she said as she started panning the ground.

"Yes, Corporal!" she affirmed, Floating the camera around every-which way.

"Ok, Berry, go ahead and run the scene so that Bowler can get started."

Coroner Bowler, who was already a grumpy old fella as it was, was standing aside wearing an impatient look that was as close as possible to the equivalent of crossing one's arms. It was only after Berry took the first fifty or so shots from every conceivable angle that he just walked in on her to start checking the body.

Berry then decided to move onto the bag and all of the cupcakes in individual and group shots.

Well, Canary didn't have a problem with that. At least she was thorough. Anyway, as soon as those cupcakes hit the ground they were part of evidence.

Processing them... would be interesting.

She was pondering how easy it would be to find blood trace on a cupcake wrapper when Berry stood herself next to Mr. Bowler, awaiting his prognosis, and the temperature suddenly dropped another few degrees.

"We still doing this?" asked Mr. Bowler, jerking his head toward the grinning Berry.

"Yeah, yeah. Cut her some slack, ok, doc? Everypony starts out at the bottom of the barrel."

"Didn't know the barrel had basement levels, Canary," he replied, eyes glued on the body as he worked.

"Come on, Doc," she bargained, eyes running over Berry. She wasn't upset or even bothered in any way. She just simply... accepted it as part of the job. It was quite a thing, really. To Berry, it was part of being at the lowest rank in the force. She wondered if her views of it would change if she knew there were other factors involved.

"Fine, fine," grumbled the coroner. "Anyway, come over here and have a look. Both of you."

"Whadda we got, doc?"

"Yes, what do we have, Mister Bowler?" asked Berry, politely.

The coroner shook his head and went on. "Basics. Unicorn pony, late teens to early adulthood, orange coat, red mane, mark of... two Autumn leaves, overlapping."

Berry dutifully took down notes to check back at the station.

"Lack of livor mortis suggests that she died very recently," Bowler continued. "Although just like the first one, she's lost quite a lot of blood and it might be throwing off the lividity."

"How'd she lose blood?" Canary asked, for both of them.

"Incision in the neck. Very precise and clean, no signs of struggling, but the wound's pretty thick. I don't know what caused it, but it's probably something fairly large. There's some curving around the edges that suggests that the tip was sharp but the rest of it was not."

"... Like a horn, doc?" asked Berry.

"Not that thick. It's still an incision, not a puncture wound."

"Alright, doc."

"Oh, and it's on the back of the neck, not the front. She probably lost most of her blood from there, but it didn't hit anything important, so she didn't immediately die from shock and blood loss."

"Would it be safe to say that she died upon contact with the ground?" asked Canary.

"Safe enough. Same thing as the first, too. Either dropped from high enough for it to achieve near terminal velocity, or it was thrown. Either she died on contact, or she died extremely shortly before."

"I... have a question doc," stated Berry.

"What?"

"If she hadn't lost all that blood... would she have survived the fall?"

"Fair enough. There really isn't a clear answer. If she were very lucky she might avoid injuries to survive another two minutes maybe. But essentially this isn't the kind of thing you get up and walk away from."

"What are you thinking, Berry?"

"I'm thinking... about pies and signs, Sarge."

"What the hay is she talking about n..." Bowler started to ask.

"Go on, Berry?" Canary encouraged.

"Well, it's like what I was saying earlier about the pie going splat, Sarge."

"Uh... huh?" Canary rolled her leg in the air.

"Uh... if you wanted to destroy a pie, there's many ways to do it. You could stick a fork in it and just mess it about and spill all the cherry filling on the ground, and that'd be that. But..." Berry considered. "If you'd already messed up the pie, why would you go throw it off a cliff as well?"

"This is the part where she starts to make sense, doc," Canary reassured the annoyed coroner.

"So if she was already going to die, and if you were a killer, why would you want to fly up so high to drop them again? I... I don't think I understand that part, because in the first place it's really hard to fly around carrying a body, and now you want to get high enough to do this kind of damage... it's like throwing a messed-up pie off a cliff. It's... it's pie overkill."

"Pie... overkill," the coroner mouthed the words to himself.

"She has a point, doc."

"Yes, yes she does, but still. Pie overkill."

"Anyway, yes. It doesn't really tally up," continued Canary.

"That and... I was remembering two days ago, you said about how these kinds of people don't wanna be caught, so there must be something really important about flying them out and dropping them on people's heads."

"Well, either that or..."

"Or, Sarge?"

"... Or they don't care if they're seen."

The wind picked up, as if to reinforce the dramatic levels of that statement, rustling the leaves and causing a few cupcakes to shift in place.

"There's two more things that I want to check out before we head back," stated Canary. "Berry, could you go and bag all the loose items?"

She quickly made off to the cart to get the plastic baggies that they used to collect evidence.

"Alright Doc, two things. Firstly. All this while we've been assuming this death's related to the one last night. Did you find any strange odd signs?"

"Nope. Not this time."

"Didn't think so. This might complicate things."

"What was the other thing?"

"Alright," she stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Listen, I know you don't like her. Not many ponies do."

"What's this about, Canary?"

"Just hear me, alright? When I first met her, I didn't like her either. I hated her. She's got a funny way of seeing things and she definitely doesn't strike anyone as the right pony for this job. But this job isn't the most typical one in Equestria, is it? She's just handling it the way she does, and I'm not asking you to like her, but I'm asking you, as a favour, to just go easy on her, ok?"

The coroner snorted.

"When did you get a heart, Canary?"

"Took a while. Took a while. But look at us. We're not the most cheerful of ponies, and I know how aggravating it is to be around somepony who's so happy all the time that it looks like she doesn't take the job seriously. But trust me. She's genuine, she's smart, and she's on top of things. So piss you off she may, but don't take it out on her just because her method of dealing with the manure we run into every day is different than yours or mine."

There was a little awkward staredown, as Bowler rolled the words around a little, seeing how it tasted, before he finally gave a slow nod.

"Alright, Canary. Alright."

"Thank you."

"I just hope you're right about her."

"I'm not wrong yet."

They both watched as the bright red ball bounced from item to item, scooping them up and securing them tightly in the plastic baggies. She looked to them as a child picking her jacks up off the floor after an enthusiastic play session.

There was something just... simply unacceptable about her. She was like a clown at a funeral. Even if she wasn't necessarily doing anything upsetting, there was a certain level of inappropriateness about it, and it looked really weird. But then you learn that the clown was a dear close friend of the deceased and wore the outfit to celebrate their first meeting 30 years ago, and suddenly it doesn't seem that bad after all.

Still looks weird though.

She was just about to seal up the final bag when Canary interrupted her.

"Hey, don't close that one just yet. Bring it over here!" she shouted to Berry.

And she obliged, carrying over the open bag-in-a-bag, a hail of plastic-wrapped cupcakes dancing around her head as she came.

"Before we went back, I wanted to see this," she said, prying the brown paper bag apart and peering inside.

What was inside made her eyes widen to quite an impressive degree.

"Berry... is that what I think it is?"

She shuffled over as Berry strained to take a look, nearly knocking heads with Canary.

"I... think so, Sarge."

"Well, this makes things... a little interesting."

"Sure does, Sarge."

"I think it's time we go back to the station to ask some questions, don't you?"

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Panic is a funny thing.

Panic makes you do things that you normally wouldn't do, and it makes you think things that you normally wouldn't think.

This is why, when a body flew out of the sky and landed in a messy pile just off to the side of her, Night Flare's first reaction was to just stand there staring at it without breathing. And then when somepony started to yell at her, she just decided that running might be a prudent act, considering the circumstances.

On the way over to the station, she considered the fact that maybe it wasn't that smart after all.

Panic also makes you discount the immediately urgent.

Panic decided to put a block on her mind back then, because there was just so many things to panic about, and panic felt that if anything was worth worrying about, it might as well be the immediate concern.

It made her babble for freedom and clamour for release. She was being arrested, something that, in on itself, was quite daunting in the first place, let alone for the reason of murder.

She did not paint that picture of The Willing Participant that she had hoped for, and was regretting it immensely as her face scraped against the cold, scratchy wooden flooring. This is usually why she didn't count on herself in most situations of urgency - because they ended up with her hog-tied and uncomfortable at the back of somepony's cart.

The next fifteen minutes went by as a sort of a dizzy spell as she was brought off the cart, dragged into the station, had her details taken down by someone with way too much facial hair, and then thrown into a cell.

They wouldn't listen to your pleas of innocence. They wouldn't listen to your offers of peaceful cooperation.

You now have a police record.

They took your clothing, your purse, your belongings, and threw you into a cold dark hole.

Night Flare, what have you gotten yourself into?

Actually, it really wasn't very cold or dark. There was central heating, so it was quite cozy, and all the lights were on, so it was quite bright in there. If anything, the plain white brick walls were a bit monotonous, and those bars simply had to go, darling.

There was no view to speak of, either. The bars faced another wall on the other side of a narrow corridor that led down the length of the cage; one end blocked off by another wall and the other leading back to the police station's main floor.

It was a small thing, and had all your full facilities including a hard stone bed, a way-too-public toilet and one of those kinds of windows that didn't open.

To look on the positive side, it was like bunking in the restroom of a gas station, but it smelt better and there were no stains. Yes, it's much better that way. The more you pile up the denial, the more padding you'll have when you need to face reality.

She wasn't doing very well, though.

Another thing she was quite thankful for was the lack of cell-mates. She really didn't need to be placed in the same area as a huge smelly stallion or some young punk from the city. What she needed, really, was to get out, oh yes, if they'd let her out that would be really, really nice, and then they could just go on and forget about the whole thing and have a laugh and a crumpet and joke about it in the months to come.

"He...hello?"

Her voice echoed off the walls and the floor, creating a hollow sound inside her head and ears, as if the world had forgotten about her.

"Helllllooooo....?" she tried again, this time a bit longer, and a little less nervous.

"What?" said a pony who walked in suddenly. He was wearing a hat, and one of those leg band thingies that she saw them wear. She didn't know what the three bendy stripes meant, but she figured it must be three of something, which means this pony here was at least two more than the lowest rank. At least. I think.

"Oh, officer. Thank Colt. There's... been some kind of mistake here..." she said, trying to put on as innocent of a smile as she could.

The policepony just stared at her.

"Do you know," he said, after a while. "Do you know how many times I've heard that?"

"Um... I... a lot?"

"No, actually, you're the first one."

"I... uh... what?"

"I don't think anypony else thought a line like that would actually work."

He gave a little shrug. "Well first time for everything, I suppose," he mumbled as he walked back.

"Wait, officer!" Night Flare threw herself against the cold iron bars.

"Yeeeeees?" he said, turning around again.

"Uh... how long am I going to be in here?"

"I don't know, it depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On if you're guilty or not."

"Noooo! I... I didn't do anything!" she wailed, kicking a leg out of the cell.

"Ha ha. Just kidding. Relax, Peg. Look, to tell you the truth, I really have no idea how long you're going to be waiting. The guy in charge of the case has to come back to give you a rundown, so I'd say it depends on how long they're going to take out there, and how much of a mess you made while you were doing your crime."

"It wasn't that much of a mess!" Flare blurted out.

"So you admit you committed a crime?"

"No! NO! I didn't comm... I mean... there wasn't... I mean..."

"Ha ha. Just kidding. Relax, Peg. Quit bothering me, alright?" he jibed, leaving the hall.

Night Flare hung off the intersection of the bars like a marionette hung up to dry.

Her eyes had become watery and her bones started to ache, like an old mare's in the rain.

She felt a heavy sleep come to her, knocking on the door of her mind and begging for entry. It was the kind of sleep that came when there was just nothing left to do, and both thoughts and body decided to just shut down for a while and rest, because there's going to be a mighty long bit of worrying to do later on in the day.

Her eyelids closed as she slumped against the metal rods, slipping down further and further and taking escape in some sweet release...

A huge clanging noise jolted her awake, suddenly, giving her such a shock that her heart rate jumped from a two digit number to three.

"Aaaahhhhh!" she yelped, stumbling back and landing hard on her rear.

"... glass of water?" asked the same guard, with a perfectly stoic face. Next to him floated a police baton, which he had just used to ring Flare's alarm bell.

"W... what?" she clutched her hoof to her chest to stop it from exploding.

"Would you like a glass of water?" A cup floated in and balanced itself on the same divider bar that Flare herself was hanging off a while ago. "I got one for you. Enjoy."

He left again.

Why were they treating her this way? She wondered hard as she ignored the water and shuffled back to the far corner, away from the bars. I thought they were the good guys. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? What about that welfare stuff that she was supposed to have?

Oh Colt, you know what, she was feeling a bit thirsty. She could go for a sip of water maybe.

Maybe. She didn't know.

It was unnerving when going for a cup was a hard decision.

She scrabbled to her hooves, making her way slowly toward the cup of water, as if the floor was made of sand and each step only took her deeper into the ground.

"Heeeey, how are you holding up?" that same smiling face, the one that she now started to hate, popped out from around the corner.

She froze.

"Just here to collect the cup back," he said, grabbing it off the cell door and floating it away. "Aw, didn't have any? Guess you're not thirsty, huh?"

"No... no, please, just..."

"Check in with you later, kid!" he said cheerfully, walking off with the glass of water.

Oh my Colt, she was shaking by this point. Shuddering from a mix of really strange emotions that came from all directions. She felt like she was one of those toys that you can knock down and it'll right itself up again, and she was getting knocked down over and over and over.

She didn't think she could handle any more of that

"Hey hey," he said, appearing once again. "Don't worry. I see that look on your face, and I know what you're thinking, and, don't worry. I got good news."

A large oversized keyring with a dozen keys floated up toward the lock.

"We're letting you out."

"R... really?" she cried, the first good news she had all night, and the best news she had in months, relatively.

"Yep!" The key entered the lock.

"No joking?"

"Nope!" The lock gave a satisfying and resounding click as the key turned.

"I can go?"

"Nope!" The door slid open.

"But... you said..."

"I said we're letting you out. Not 'we're letting you go'. Sergeant Canary is back, and she's got some questions for you."

Her smile drooped.

"Come with me please, miss," the officer led her into the interrogation room, just as Canary passed her in the hall.

"All set, Canary," the other Sergeant said to her, when Flare was safely locked in the room.

"You prepped her?"

"Yeah, little bit."

"Hey, thanks a lot, 'Spiv."

"No problem, but you're the ass next time, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. Owe you one, man," she replied, jokingly. "I don't like being the good cop anyway."

"If you say so, Canary," the pony smiled back.

"Anyway, could you help Berry with the processing? And let her take lead on it. She's got a lot of interesting ideas about this one."

"Hey, not a problem," he said, heading off to do important evidence stuff.

On the other side of the door, it wasn't any different than the last time Canary had been in there. It was another pony who seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, but in this circumstance, there was a little bit more involvement than Twilight Sparkle had, and they needed to run her through the wringer regardless.

She was just as frightened, given the circumstances, and keeping her on edge had a specific purpose.

Canary smiled at her as she entered from behind Flare.

"Hi there, Miss... Flare?" she read from a clipboard she brought in with her.

"Y... yes?"

"Don't worry," Canary smiled again. "Please, get comfortable at the table."

The table was as it usually was, with the lamp, but this time it had two cups and a pitcher of water placed ever so nicely upon it, along with the paper bag that was found at the crime scene.

"Oh, and help yourself to the water," Canary said off-hoofedly, flipping through the sheets in front of her for show, and pouring them both a full glass at the same time.

"It's... ok?" Flare asked.

"... of course." Canary gave a look of bemusement, as if the question was absurd.

A few more looks were exchanged before Flare downed the entire glass in one gulp, satiating that burning desire to just swallow something.

"Alright, let's begin then," Canary said, refilling the glass and placing the clipboard with the blank sheets face-down on the table.

They faced each other for a while, in silence, Canary looking relaxed, smiling and shaking her head to herself once every so often, as if she were making a judgement with each one, as she simply examined the pony in front of her.

The seconds each fell down one by one, ticking the time away, as each second burrowed its way into Flare's mind.

"I didn't do it!" she finally shouted, unable to take it any longer.

"Do what?" asked Canary.

"Whatever it is you're accusing me of!"

"Then how do you know that there's anything to be guilty of?"

"Ok, ok, now see, I know your little games, right? Stop... stop twisting my words around and stuff!" Flare demanded, in a frantic state.

"You're right, I'm sorry," apologized Canary, taking off her hat and putting it on the table, as calm as ever. "We needn't do that."

"Um..." that had caught her slightly off guard.

"Tell you what, why don't you tell me what happened, then?"

"I... I was coming home from the club... Le Pouze? I was just hanging out and decided to go to the park to relax a bit, right? And then suddenly as I was walking I hear this funny noise from above, right? Then I turn around and all of a sudden this big huge thing comes right at me, and I jumped out of the way and it missed me by this much, and I dunno... I didn't know what it was at first, but then I kinda realised it was like... another pony, and I got freaked out, and then someone started yelling at me and I... well... I panicked, ok? So I tried to fly off but... well, that stupid cop caught me with some kinda funky magic and arrested me."

"Well," said Canary. "I'll be sure to have a talk with that stupid cop later."

"Yeah... yeah... look, I know it's bad, but I really had nothing to do with it, ok? I just... I just wanna go home."

"Where's that?"

"Home? Cloudsdale."

"And what brought you to Canterlot?"

"Nothing, really... I come here a lot. It's like a second home to me."

"So you know the place really well?"

"Yeah, pretty well. I mean, I know all the public spots and stuff, but don't ask me for directions or anything."

"Mmm," Canary hummed, nodding again. "So, you just want to go home?"

"Well, yeah."

"Don't you at all care about the poor girl who died next to you tonight?"

"She... she's dead?"

"Oh, yes. Very much so. Did you not know?"

"... no." replied Flare, softly, sweetly. Her eyes started to wander around her head, darting irregularly at some invisible thing to the right of her hooves. "I... I thought she fell or something... or it was some drunk ponies doing something silly. I know she... got hurt, but... I didn't..."

"Take it easy. If you didn't do it, you don't have anything to worry about, right?"

"But... that poor pony... this is a trick, right? It's... one of your cop tricks?"

"No trick ma'am." Canary slid some photos out from under the sheets of paper, the only thing of real importance hiding in the clipboard, as she spread them out in front of Flare.

"Oh... oh my colt..." she muttered, holding a hoof to her mouth, and looking away.

"Do you know the pony in these photographs?"

"No... no, I don't."

"Maybe you should look a bit closer..."

"No... really, I don't know her." She was holding her breath.

"Alright," Canary shuffled the photos away; Flare's reaction thus far telling her more than she needed to know. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's... it's ok," murmured Flare, disengaging her vision and letting it fade. It felt better that way. "What... what happened, officer?"

"Call me Canary. And we don't know. We were hoping that you did."

"I wish I could help you, officer Canary."

"Well, if you would be willing to just answer a few more questions?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Flare was hasty to agree.

"You said that you went to Le Pouze. That's not very near the park, is it?"

"No, it takes me about half an hour to walk there."

"Why wouldn't you fly? You're a Pegasus, as it can be clearly seen."

"Well... sometimes... sometimes I don't fly if I don't need to. Just because I have wings I don't... really... think I need to fly everywhere."

"Oh?"

"It's... just something I've always felt. That... if I walk more, I'll appreciate being able to fly all the more, too."

"That's a very mature way to think of things."

"Oh... thanks," Flare gave a nervous laugh. "I... ah... I've always thought this way."

"Why were you going to the park that night?"

"Well it was... nearly midnight, I think. I can't really remember. And I just spent the night with this rather odd pony, right? But I had to get away from the noise and just relax in the quiet, and the park's one of my usual places to do that. It's just nice and peaceful and full of fresh air, so I just figured I'd head there."

"Wait, hold up. You said you spent the night with an odd pony?"

"Yeah, oh, no. I know what you think, but I don't think she had anything to do with this."

"Well, just in case, maybe you could elaborate for me?"

"Yeah... she was like... this crazy weird pony, you know? Total klutz," she frowned, trying to recall specifics. "I think she was one of those... waddayacall 'em... socially inept types? I bought her a couple of drinks. I think someone dropped her there as a joke or something, to see what'd happen. Yeah... she was really weird but I don't think she's a killer or nothing. She had this wicked memory though."

"Wait, what?" Canary suddenly perked up.

"Yeah, like... get this, she memorized the menu in like two seconds, but could not pick up that the bartender was hitting on her for half an..."

"Was she green?"

"Yea... yeah, she was."

"Spiky hair?"

"Yeah... you know her?"

"What was her cutie mark?"

"I dunno... it was pretty dark. Some kind of bottle or something?"

It was Canary's turn to start to look for phantom shadows in the corner.

"Flare. I'm going to ask you some questions now, that you should be very sure before answering, alright?"

"Al...alright. Am I in trouble?"

"Not... exactly. I can't tell you the details, but... tell me. This pony that you met. Did she give you a name?"

"Yeah, it was du... durin... something? Duriandal, that's right."

"And... before tonight, you had never met before? Never even seen her before?"

"Not that I remember." She shrugged.

"Have you ever been to her store in HoneyLane Avenue?"

"Never been to HoneyLane."

"Alright, Flare?" Canary finally brought the innocent paper bag toward her, opening it up and removing a small round object. "Have you ever seen this before?"

Canary set the cloud puffer down on the middle of the table. It, by all means, was as they had seen them, infesting the stores of two days ago. This one looked damaged in the fall, and had a long piece of string sticking out the top of it.

"That..."

"This."

"Yes. Yes I have seen this before," said Night Flare, nodding at Canary.

The One Who Eats the Tail Pt 2

Night Flare wasn’t thrown back in jail. She was ‘invited to wait’, which is essentially the same thing except that you’re not standing behind cold metal bars. She didn't really understand why she was asked to stay at an empty desk and just sit there without moving, but it was still a lot more spacious than her previous lodgings, and complaints weren’t being made much to the appreciation of Sergeant Canary.

Canary, herself, was back at her desk, pondering the tough questions. Night Flare was all the way at the other end of the station, waiting while they tried to figure out what to do with her next.

Normally they’d have let her go. But not after hearing that she not only recognized, but owned one of those stupid cloud puffer things, except that hers was in the shape of a teardrop and was really nice and all that stuff. She really liked it, apparently.

It had been a present, she told Canary, from a nice pony she knew back home by the name of ‘Blitz something-or-other’, who owned a ‘construction shop or something, I don’t really know what she does, actually’ across the street from the bakery where Night Flare herself worked. It was nice that she accepted odd gifts from unfamiliar people, Canary thought, but Canary reminded herself that not everypony was the cynical bastard that she was, and had to contend that gifts sometimes are traded without the need for immediate suspicion of motive and purpose.

Their general relationship was that of customer and provider. Blitz frequently patronized the bakery, and Flare put large custard buns or pizza baguettes into environmentally-friendly paper bags for her. And that was all Night Flare really knew. You usually wouldn't trade much information in these sorts of relationships, and normally, it’d take a really long time before it progresses into what could technically be considered a friendship rather than them simply being acquaintances.

It seems that only just a few weeks ago did this Blitz character decide to offer the first diplomatic hoof by giving her that thingamabob puffer, explaining that it was a new prototype of something or other she was working on regarding scent diffusion. They had lunch once after that, and Flare had forgotten Blitz’s full name. That was the extent of their relationship, which wasn’t very much to begin with.

There was also the fact, however, that Canary had only just, a few days ago, seen that cloud puffer on the shelves of one Miss Duriandal’s store, a store in which a murder had been committed.

It would be remiss for Canary not to follow up on such a clear lead.

Her eyes wandered to the newspaper on her desk, that no doubt somepony had left there for her to keep track of the local stories. It was quite essential for them to keep up on top of things, and ironically, the newspapers sometimes yielded information that they had missed, and she wasn’t too proud to admit it.

The paper was yesterday’s Equestria Daily, the best and more often than not, fastest newspaper in Canterlot. Canary never knew how, but they always seemed to manage to get the scoop on everything - even pictures - which was quite odd since she never usually saw anypony around taking photos, besides her own team who took them for evidence. She had, at one time, considered the possibility that Silver or the innocent little Berry were selling some of the pictures for a few extra bits on the side, but she later realised that trust was the foundation of everything they did, and character stood for everything. And of course, she trusted her companions with her life - maybe a little bit of Berry’s naivety rubbing off.

“MURDER in CANTERLOT,” the paper read, headlines screaming at Canary. She gave it a quick scan, not really having the time and effort to read it thoroughly. In some cases, especially in cases like these, you also had to read the papers for a secondary reason – to find out what the public thought, rather than knew, and prepare for the fallout accordingly.

This time round, there wasn’t anything in the article that the public couldn’t have discovered by simply being there. There weren’t any witness leads, interesting titbits or insightful assumptions by the press media, and for the most it simply worked as a warning to Canterlot that there, in fact, was somepony out there who was very dangerous indeed. Bottom line, it saved the police the need for an early press conference, something that would expend time and resources.

The photo that accompanied the article was a wide shot of the entire scene, something that could be considered professionally done if the subject matter wasn’t what it was. In the upper right corner she could see the rear half of Constable Berry; her flank sticking in inconspicuously from out of frame.

Canary shook her head to herself and shuffled the paper away to the side of her desk, where it lay in an unceremonious, wrinkled heap.

Berry.

With all her inaptitude and her clumsiness and frame of mind, she still joined the force, and requested specifically to be partnered with Sergeant Canary. Canary didn’t know why, and that was the one single thing that Berry obstinately refused to talk about. And to make it worse, she had failed the entrance test twice, wasn’t very together during basic training, and was pretty much recommended by her supervising training sergeant to find another line of work.

It was perseverance and only perseverance that led her to finally make it to where she was. There was someone up there in command who saw something special in her, something that you had to look very carefully to find, but it was there; a diamond in the rough.

Although, in Berry’s case, it was more like a Sweetcake in a mound of sweaty diapers.

Canary thought she knew what that something special was. But Canary never claimed to have the best eyesight, and maybe that glint within her that sometimes showed itself was actually just the glowing lure on an anglerfish, ready to take a bite at you if you got too close.

Maybe that’s why no one really dared to get close to Berry.

That didn’t explain why Berry was the closest thing that Canary had to a friend, though.

She watched her now, as she talked the ear off the other Sergeant who had so nicely offered to help with the evidence processing, pattering around and scrutinizing every tiny thing.

Canary ought to go take over soon.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

“This is Constable Berry,” said Staff Sergeant Blue Beat, “She has been assigned as your new partner-in-training from this point forth.”

The facially-endowed pony gave the two ladies in front of him a rough stare. “Constable Berry, this is Sergeant Canary, your immediate supervisor and partner. Get yourselves acquainted.”

Canary stared out of the corner of her eye at the static figurine standing to the side of her. This new pony didn’t move an inch save of a trickle of sweat that was slowly running down the side of her forehead, passing through her straight, layered mane. Her hair looked like a lasagne gone wrong. She looked like she was wrong. Everything was wrong.

“I don’t need a…”

“Don’t need a partner, yes yes,” interrupted Blue Beat. “I know. Trust me, I know. But I’ve been covering your flank for a year and the higher ups aren’t going to let this slide anymore, even if you’ve got Celestia’s horn in your pocket. In fact, that’s what they’re all up in wings about, some manure about you not representing us right and all that.”

“I work better alone,” argued Canary, ignoring both the statue painted mute red next to her as well as Blue Beat’s pointless attempt at logos.

“Yes, you do,” agreed Blue Beat.

“And I don’t need a partner.”

“No, you don’t.”

“And?”

“And you’re going to get one anyway, Canary. It’s out of my hooves. Anyway, you should be happy to know that this one here asked to be assigned to you personally. Put in a special request and everything.”

“As opposed to?”

“As opposed to the fact that one of the reasons why you’ve managed to escape having a partner for this long is because no one single sergeant wanted to be paired with you and your reputation. It’s got to the point where top brass even decided to make an exception and let completely fresh cadets step up to post.”

Canary turned, like a creaking door, to stare Berry in the left ear. She still wasn’t moving, although it appeared that her sweat drop had thrown a party and all its friends were invited.

“You kidding me?” asked Canary.

“Nope. Now get out and go show her the ropes. And remember, if this one dies, there’ll be plenty more cadets to take her place, so don’t even think about it.”

Canary sighed inwardly. She never sighed outwardly; that would be a show of weakness. Her kind of sighs were the kind that were usually accompanied by a low grumbling of the brain as it complained about all the things wrong with the world and how this extra little thing was just making it that much worse.

“Just keep out of my way,” she said to Berry, heading for the door.

“Dismissed, Constable,” Blue Beat said.

“Y…yes sir!” Berry yelped, making a smart turn in place and exiting as well.

Berry trailed after Canary like a baby chick following her mother, all the way out of the office, across the floor, and to Canary’s desk, where Canary took her usual spot behind it and started to sort through paperwork.

Berry cleared her throat.

Canary decided that it would be an opportune time to sharpen her pencils.

Berry cleared her throat again.

Canary figured that the stack of case files in the corner ought to be stacked a bit more neatly.

It was like waiting for a bomb to go off - that excruciating few seconds between utter silence and utter chaos, and the ticks of the clock came in the form of a light ‘ahem’ that appeared from her new partner.

“What the hay do you want?” Canary snapped, mere milliseconds before Berry cleared her throat for the third time.

“Um… Constable Red Berry, reporting in, Sergant!”

“Ok. Do I care?”

“I just got back from a detail in the Everf…”

“Don’t care. What else do you want?”

“Um… I was told to give you my repo…”

“Don’t care. What else do you want?”

“You were supposed to debri…”

“I do not want to debrief you,” said Canary, staring horns into Berry’s forehead, “because I do not care.”

“Well, I just… I just thought…”

“Ok. It’s a big cliché to say this, but honestly, I never figured I’d be in this position. But considering my options, I really don’t have anything to say. You thought wrong, Constable. I don’t need a partner, especially some wet-eared little greenhorn. Come back in five years when you’ve grown up and maybe then you can give me your damned report.”

Canary went back to arranging her files.

After a long, tense moment, Berry cleared her throat again.

“What?!” The files came crashing down onto the desk as they were dropped roughly, sending a sprinkle of office debris in every direction.

“We… we should maybe… get to know each other…?”

“Girl, are you stupid?” Canary shouted, temper flaring.

“Yes Ma’am,” Berry nodded.

“What?”

“I’m… um… not the most intelligent of ponies, I know… but I’ll try my best, Ma’am,” she continued nodding. “And I figure… I figure we might as well get used to each other now because it’s like sticky buns.”

Canary just blinked. And that was the first in a long line of similar interactions between the two of them.

"What?"

"If... you... take a tray of sticky buns out of the oven..." Berry continued, not entirely sure if she should have or not, "and they're both very hot... they won't stick together. But if you give them... time to cool and for the honey glaze to set, then they'll be inseperable."

Canary blinked again.

"Um... it's... like... I know you're mad with me right now, because I've done... come up and ruin your thing... but I hope with time... we'll cool off and..."

Berry's voice trailed off when she finally realised that it might be better to just stop.

"... stick together..."

And there it was. Something slightly profound, yet rather stupid about it all, but something that made Canary sit up and take notice. She wasn't sure about it yet, and she sure wouldn't be certain about it for the entire time they would know each other, but at that very moment, a tiny pinprick of light appeared at the bottom of the well of darkness that was Canary's infested thoughts.

There was something special about this one. Not to say that Canary gave many ponies a chance in the first place, but this one had sought her out, this one had faced her up, and this one only ever bespoke the innocent truth. Wrapped up in her fantasies of sticky buns and marmalades and dancing cotton candy clouds were endearment bullets of pure lead, and she had a special non-stick-surfaced gun to fire them with.

But as dim lights go, they never shine so bright as to cast out the gloom, and once again Canary found that deep hatred murmuring up inside of her, whispering dark secrets and playing on her temper.

"Get lost. Now," Canary demanded, as the final light winked out.

"Yes, Sergeant," nodded Berry. She understood. She understood perfectly, and did not bother to engage Canary for the rest of the day.

A day later, Berry bought Canary a nice empty picture frame and a box of paperclips. She didn't explain what they were for, but simply just put them on her desk, saying that they'd be used when they needed to be used, and no trouble, sorry for disturbing you, ma'am.

The day after that, Canary invited someone to lunch with her for the first time since ever.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Boss?"

"Huh?"

"Boss? Every'in ok up in there?"

Canary returned to real life as her surroundings came sweeping back to her, a blur of colour and noise all crashing down. She had wandered off a little bit for a while, but her vision focused onto the image of Silver, who was standing crouched down in front of her and looking up as if inspecting the underside of a table.

"Wha... Hey, get off!" Canary stepped back, as Silver straightened up and chuckled.

"Ey boss. Tracked 'at blood trail 'ere. Led to the Spiffin’ ‘States, it did. Detail's on'er way."

"Spiffington Estates? Good job. Did you get an address of the house where the crime took place?"

"Eh... it's priddy obvious, boss."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Didn't like th' looka' tha' myself, boss."

"Anyway, do me another favour, would you? Remember the first crime scene, up in HoneyLane? I need you go get me the shopkeeper from the perfume store up the left side. Green coat, dark green mane. Very spiky hair. Perfume bottle Cutie Mark. Name of Duriandal."

Silver nodded, backing up like a truck and then spinning around, before taking to the skies of the police station interior and narrowly missing the frame as she darted out the doorway.

"Ok, now where were we..." Canary muttered to herself, looking back up at the whiteboard. It had been updated with death number two, pictures and related information all written down in their respective column. This time, there were many elements that fell out of place, and many missing points of reference. Of course, they still had to go hit up the scene at Spiffington Estates, where the rich ponies lived.

Then there were the books that they still had; the ones that Canary had barely begun to read back up on the hill.

And there was that damn cloud thing. That one had to wait. There wouldn't be any answers until Silver returned.

"I'm back, Boss," Silver said, silently flying up behind Canary.

"What the..." Canary jolted forward, shocked at the sudden appearance. "Don't do that! I mean... already? Not even you could have fetched her that fast."

"Eh... she kinda fetch'd 'erself," Silver said, jerking a hoof at the doors of the police station.

And standing there in the dim light of the lamps were two figures. One, clearly, was the very pony that seemed to lie just on the fringe of all this, and somepony that she had never seen before. But boy was her hair really poofy.

The two of them rested there, shaky and unsure, and had about them the feeling of general disease. The one that she recognized –Duriandal – had a worried look on her face, the kind of worry that just makes you tired and weak rather than frantic and excitable. She also seemed a bit out of it, by Canary’s standards, and had to be helped into the station by her friend.

Canary quickly cantered over to greet the newcomers. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say, but luckily, Duriandal and her friend decided to engage first.

“Hi, we’re looking for an offi…”

“That is her, that is her, Blitz. That is officer Canary.”

“Duri, be polite,” scolded Blitz, turning to the approaching policepony. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“No apologies necessary, miss,” replied Canary. “What can I do for you two?”

“Well, it’s a long story, ma’am.”

“Alright, why don’t you come in and have a seat?”

She led them from the door to the deep recesses of the station, past desks and closed doors and hushed secrets.

She did not expect an exclamation coming from the other link of the chain.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” came a voice, ringing out loudly in the station.

Night Flare quickly weaved her way through the floor and came to face Blitz.

“Hey, it’s you… from across the street?” reconfirmed Blitz.

“Yeah, yeah! What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Canary asked.

“Yeah,” stated Flare. “She’s the one who gave me that cloud thing, you know?”

Canary started to feel butterflies; the kind of feeling that you get before having to perform for a large crowd, or having to present a report. She was having it in spades, an anxious gnawing in the pit of her stomach, ants tearing away at her intestines. She wasn’t nervous about performance – this swarm of insects was being lulled by the overwhelming nagging feeling that there was simply something there lurking beneath the surface, something that she just couldn’t see. Too many coincidences gave her a bad feeling, and this one just went full circle.

“Ok, ok everypony keep quiet,” she suddenly said, looking at the three of them one after the other, ending with Flare. “You, get back to your seat. BERRY!”

“Yeah Sarge!” Canary’s second in command appeared from the horizon.

“Berry, take miss Duriandal here to the holding cells for a while. Make sure she doesn’t have any contact with either Night Flare or this one here.”

“Officer? What is this… about?” asked Blitz, cautiously. She wasn’t too happy about how strange-paced this meeting had suddenly become, and she certainly wondered what her work-neighbour was doing here.

“You… you are hereby under arrest.”

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

“You’re under arrest!”

Canary groaned.

“Uh… Sarge?”

“Berry?”

“Yes Sarge?”

“Berry, you can’t arrest her.”

“Why not, Sarge?”

“She’s five, Berry.”

Canary gently massaged her throbbing horn. And she was in no mood for that to be taken the wrong way, believe you me.

“Yeah but she’s guilty.”

“She picked an apple up, Berry.”

“From a tended fruit stall, Sarge!”

“Do you… do you at all see, Constable, anypony running around madly, screaming at the top of her lungs, ‘help me, oh help me, a three year old stole one of my apples, whatever should I do?’”

“No, Sarge?”

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Canary said to the bemused stall owner, dragging Berry away by her tail.

They walked on, away from the market square, where things were just obviously too busy and colourful and noisy for Berry, who was essentially akin to a Unicorn child learning how to use magic for the first time. Every Unicorn had been there once, but this was the first time Berry actually had the magical power of being able to detain ponies for suspicion of crime.

They walked, Berry trailing behind Canary, down an alley to a far 'quieter' part of Canterlot, by which was meant that there were as few as two or three other ponies standing around at any given time. But it was alright, because like in any big city, none of them really gave manure about you anyway. In fact, they tended to ignore ponies in uniform more so than other ponies, based on the assumption that if they didn’t make eye contact, they were invisible and maybe the nice policewomen will leave them alone.

“Berry,” Canary said, idling by the side of a worn brick building, a remnant of the more ancient parts of the city, before everything was white-washed and gilded. An innocent bystander quickly made haste to leave the scene.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“I need to teach you how to do…”

No, that was wrong.

“I need to teach you how not to do your job.”

“What do you mean, Sergeant?”

“What I mean is that… you need to know when to let crime happen.”

“I’d never…”

“I know you’d never. That’s the problem. You’re police. And yes, that comes with the whole responsibility and nonsense, but it’s not what should be done.”

"I don't understand, Sergeant."

"What I'm saying is that you wouldn't be standing here today in that hat and that legband if it weren't for a hundred other ponies forgiving you and giving you chances when the world has thrown you to the dragons. Same goes for me, and same goes for every other pony in Equestria."

"We have to forgive criminals, Sarge?"

"We're in the position to, aren't we?"

"Yeah but... then what are we for?"

"You know what the word police means, Berry?"

"What, like the definition?"

"It means to regulate, Berry. To uphold. To maintain. We aren't enforcers. We aren't masters of our domain looking down upon everypony. We exist in the domain to make sure everyone's happy and everything's going perfect. But there's the thing, Berry."

"Nothing's perfect?" Berry repeated what Canary had said many times before.

"Yeah. Nothing's perfect. What do you do if you're pulling a cart down the road and there's a bunch of little pebbles and a big log that's in your path?"

"I'd remove the big log."

"Yeah. If you stop to pick up every single damn pebble, you'll never make it to where you're going. You just need to remove enough to ensure you get there, even if it's not the smoothest of journeys."

"How do I know when a pebble's a log, Sarge?"

"That... is for you to find out yourself."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Berry attempted her best search.

"I dunno, Sarge..."

"Ok. Let's say you're chasing down a perp. He just stole a purse from a young lady, and she's crying her eyes out. She's distraught. What do you do?"

"Well... I'd you know, comfort her, I guess?"

"Why?"

"Because she's in front of me, and she needs help, and it's my duty to help her!"

"No. It's not your duty to help her."

"It isn't, Sarge? I thought it was."

"While you're comforting her, that thief just robbed another three old ponies and got a clean getaway."

"But what about the lady, Sarge?"

"Berry, you just gotta learn how to put yourself aside for once, you know? You can either help one lady feel better, but you'd never get their purse back, and a lot of ponies down the line get hurt, or you could make sure that it doesn't happen again."

"So... you'd give chase and ignore the lady, Sarge?"

"Every time."

"I don't think so, Sarge."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, Sarge, sorry."

"Am I missing something, Berry?"

"I dunno, Sarge," said Berry, dismissively. "But I think I understand what you mean. I just gotta decide what's more important in the long run, right?"

"That's about right."

Canary took a deep, refreshing breath, thinking back to a year ago, and let her gaze walk down the streets that were so unfamiliar to her back then.

"I've been here a year, and until now, I still don't know how she does it."

"Who, Sarge?"

"Princess Celestia. She's... really not what most ponies think. She's... smart. Too smart. Something uncolt-ly smart. You'd think that'd be enough to run an entire civilization. But it's not."

"It isn't, Sarge?"

"There's something else she has that no pony has."

"Something else, Sarge?"

"Humility. A lot of it."

"Humility, Sarge?"

"Stop repeating me. And yes. Humility. She sits at the top of the world, but crawls below the lowest member of her community. She's busy with all sorts of functions and galas and colt knows what else, but you could ask her for tea and she'd oblige."

"You've... asked her out for tea, Sarge?"

"What? No!" Canary lowered her brow at Berry in annoyance. "Of course not. I just mean she's able to rule because she's both above and below everything at once. Seeing everything from both sides."

Canary thought a little before going on.

"That's why they make investigative officers like me have a partner, you know?"

"What do you mean, Sarge?"

"I... and the rest of us... we only see things in one direction. Having a partner who's completely opposite us... helps us to see things from both sides. Two of us make one Celestia."

"So... I'm your opposite, Sarge?"

"Yeah... I guess so."

They had started to walk a while back, trailing the walls to a small short overlook that hung off the tier they were on. Canterlot had a lot of tiers. Under them, spread out like a canvas painting, were the rooftops of buildings, making waves of spires and towers, a hundred masts sticking up above a sea of concrete.

Canary looked.

"You know, for a year, I managed to work my way around without needing anypony's help. Then you came along."

"That was three months ago, Sarge."

"You ruined my life, you know that?"

"I know, Sarge. A lot of ponies say that to me."

"Yeah. Had a cushy job, too. I got things done. I had my whole gig planned out. Seeing things from my side was pretty ok as far as I was concerned. And then you came along," Canary repeated.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant."

A small bird landed on the banisters that prevented ponies from walking off the side of the ledge. It did a little hop, and dance, and then took to the sky without any hesitation whatsoever.

"You came along. Little impudent thing. Waltzing in the place and just destroying my world. My life. Everything I've built for myself."

"Sorry, Sarge."

"You know what your problem is, Berry?"

"What, Sarge?"

"You forced me to change."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"I just met her pony to pony for the first time three days ago, on Monday," said Blitz Breeze.

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Canary. This question had no sarcasm behind it. It was a genuine request for Blitz to repeat herself; Canary was running low on the fuel known as sleep and for some reason her mind kept wandering to the past. "I mean, could you elaborate please, Miss Blitz?"

They stood in the old familiar room once again, the place where stories were spun. Blitz was standing there calmly. There was no reason for her to be upset or cause a scene. A level head solves most problems. Of course, there was this nagging feeling tugging at Canary's ear that some of these answers came out a bit too easily and a bit too smoothly...

"It was in the evening of Monday, I don't remember the exact time, but I had received a couriered letter informing me of a business prospect from Duriandal. We have had communications in the past, but only ever strictly for business purposes and I had never seen her before prior to that day."

"What exactly did the letter say?"

"I can't remember exactly, but the gist of it was that I should go down for some kind of big prospect or something. There weren't any details, but I figured it was important because she paid for a within-the-hour."

"And what happened after that?"

"I went."

"And what did she want?"

"She said that she wished for me to spend the night in exchange for money."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, I got that too. Um... actually, that's exactly what it was. She wanted to pay me just for me to hang around and be present. Nothing weird, outside of the fact that the request itself was kind of weird to begin with, I guess."

"Just the facts, ma'am."

"Of course, officer."

"And to the best of your knowledge, why did Miss Duriandal make such a request?"

"Because the police told her that somepony might have been murdered in her shop and she was understandably a little bit frightened."

"You seem quite unperturbed by that fact, Miss Breeze."

"Yes, and that is how I cope with stress."

"And are you under stress now?"

"Considering the circumstances, quite a lot."

"I see... and... could you elaborate on the nature of your relationship prior to your meeting, Miss Breeze?"

"As I mentioned, it was that purely of business. She had sent a letter out a few months ago about a concept for some sort of perfume diffusing device. She had found me through the Cloudsdale business listings, of which I have registered myself in as a specialist. I accepted the job, and started creating what she would later term cloud puffers."

"Our correspondence was infrequent, and through letters only," Blitz continued. "Once the working prototype was complete, and she was satisfied with its performance, I started about making them in various shapes. She paid me for batches of them."

"And what exactly are you a specialist of, Miss Breeze?"

"I am in the business of cloud construction, ma'am. I do a lot of work with carving, too. I make art, but also make functional furniture and other such things made out of clouds and other materials. This was the first time somepony had requested that I make something to this level of intricacy, but I enjoy a good challenge. I own a workshop up in Cloudsdale."

"What sort of other materials are we talking about here?"

"Oh, everything. Wood, marble. The usual."

"How do you get them around, Miss Breeze?"

"Pardon me?"

"Your work. How do you move them around?"

"I... carry them?"

"Would you say you could carry a lot, Miss Breeze?"

"Depends on what you mean by a lot, Ma'am."

"I'm sure working in a workshop such as you described... involves a lot of labour as well."

"Yeah," Blitz nodded slowly. "It does. I usually have to carry raw materials as well as finished products. Delicately, too."

"Do you think you could carry me?"

"Uh..."

"Humour me."

"I suppose so, yes. I wouldn't be able to fly really fast or steadily or stable, but I think I could."

"What if I were struggling? Could you carry me then?"

"Struggling? Uh... I have no idea, ma'am."

"You sure?"

"Well, none of my marble statues ever fought back before," Blitz said, a tinge of suspicion hanging off her lips. "Exactly what are you getting at, officer?"

“Could you tell me about where you were from the time you met Miss Duriandal until now?” Canary ignored the question.

“Well, on Monday evening I made my way down there, and met with her. Ever since then I’ve been with her until now.”

“All the way straight? And she can confirm this?”

“Yes, officer, she can confirm this. And I was with her all the way straight except for a few hours when I went back to Cloudsdale to take care of some things.”

“And when was this?”

“I returned about an hour to an hour and a half ago.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I see,” said Canary, writing something down in the clipboard she had in front of her. Unlike for the case of Night Flare, this clipboard actually did serve its intended purpose.

“And you decided to come straight to the police station right after you returned?” Canary continued.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“For what purpose?”

“Well, this one’s hard to explain, officer.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and give it your best shot?”

“We’ve been… seeing somepony, officer. This pony... Duriandal and I both saw him once in her house when I was staying the night, and she also saw him flying overhead just a few hours ago while I was back in Cloudsdale. We’re concerned, and decided to engage your assistance.”

“A pony, you say?”

“Yes. He’s… well, honestly, we don’t know that he’s a ‘he’, really. But he looks male. It’s hard to tell. Both times we’ve seen him, it was at night. Essentially he looks like a normal pony, except that he has this really odd red eye and this strange smile.”

“Odd red eye and strange smile?” that made Canary look up.

“Yes, officer. It looks like this really round circle, not at all like a normal eye. And it’s completely red. I don’t know how else to describe it, ma’am. Also his smile… it just doesn’t look real. And I don’t mean in the sense that it’s not genuine, I mean in the sense that… it looks like there’s layers or something covering the mouth. But I didn’t really get a good look, to be honest.”

“I see,” said Canary, putting the clipboard down on the table.

“Um… officer, I’m sorry about this, but really, what’s this about?”

“Either you’re a criminal mastermind, a complete idiot, or just somepony in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I’m going to vote for the second.”

“Ex… excuse me?”

“Let's see. You mysteriously appear in Duriandal’s life the day somepony is murdered in her store. And then later, you just happen to not be around the exact same time the second murder takes place?”

“Second…? there’s ano…”

“Furthermore, we know the bodies were flown into the scenes, and by your own admission you are pretty adept at carrying heavy items on your back.”

“Well that’s true but…”

“Basically you just waltzed in here and gave me a complete admission of guilt.”

“Wait, what, wait, hold on now,” Blitz held her right hoof up. “Are you saying that I killed those ponies?”

“The evidence is pretty strong, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well yes, but... if I killed those ponies why would I just tell you everything that makes me look bad?”

“That's where the complete idiot part comes in."

"Now, look now. I didn't kill... I mean... I couldn't..."

"Can anypony vouch for your whereabouts during the times you weren't with Miss Duriandal?"

“N...no, but... but,” Blitz started to fluster a bit, now that things had taken a much more serious tone. “It’s coincidence, or something. I mean, first of all, I saw that thing myself with Duriandal the first time. She’ll tell you the same story! If I were the murderer I wouldn’t have seen him, right?”

“And how do you know that thing that you saw was the murderer in the first place?”

“I…”

Blitz stopped. That was true. There really hadn’t been any sort of connection between the murder and that thing that they saw.

“It seems to me, that you may have set it up to give yourself a good alibi, while one of your sick friends in a mask or something, I don’t know, made an appearance so that you could later go about doing your thing.”

“No, no officer, no. Really. No.”

“Why’d you kill them, Miss Breeze?” Canary cocked her head at the suspect, putting on the pressure.

“I didn’t! I swear!”

“What was it? Money? Revenge? Or are you just getting some sick thrills from the rush?”

“I didn’t kill them, officer, honestly! I didn’t! It’s… look, it’s all circumstantial now, right?” Blitz desperately fought the tide. “I mean, there’s nothing that links me directly to the crime scenes, right?”

“Yeah, really? What’s this then?”

A small broken white thing in a clear plastic evidence bag floated up from somewhere below the table and placed itself in front of Blitz.

“Oh Colt,” said Blitz.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

“Congratulations on solving the case,” said Blue Beat. “Now get the hay out of my office.”

Canary left the paperwork on Blue Beat’s desk, and left without another word, Berry in tow. Berry also remained silent, but gifted Staff Sergeant Blue Beat with a little smile as she turned to leave, in the way that she usually did.

“Our very first felony case together,” squealed Berry. “We did it, we did it!”

“Yeah, took you long enough. Six months since you got here. What, you trying to set some new speed records, Berry?”

“Well, you never allowed me to take on the serious cases before, Sarge.”

“That’s because you could only handle the misdemeanours, Berry. I mean, essentially, you are a misdemeanour.”

Regardless of words, Canary was truthfully in a cheery mood as well. She always had that big happy feeling of completion whenever they managed to close a case, and this was a big one. It had been a two-week-long operation, involving many members of the team, and Berry’s first true field assignment.

She was let in on it because she had expressed, many times in rapid succession, how she wanted to become an investigative officer like Canary. She really, really wanted to be just like Canary one day, so if you could please please please just let me in, I won't do anything I promise, I won't touch anything and I won't speak but just please let me join you, and Canary said yes so that neither of their heads would explode.

Prior to this, they had only allowed her to walk the beat - the general patrols - mainly due to the fact that she had zero real-world experience before being assigned to Canary. All she had was what she learnt in a classroom, and that counted for absolutely squat in their line of work. Canary didn't even know why they still taught it in the first place. It was best, in her opinion, to just let them do things, and graduate the ones who were still alive by the end of it.

But as bureaucracy was, they didn't allow Canary to just let Berry 'do things', and everyone in the station cringed at the idea of allowing Berry to do anything by herself. So began the long, six month journey that led to this point.

To be honest, Canary didn't think she was ready yet. But between the responsibility required to take care of a newbie in the field, and the patience needed to teach somepony the ins and outs, Canary found it easier to just not give a flank.

So when it came down to it, Canary allowed her on the case to shut her up.

Luckily, nothing bad happened.

It was a strange case; a group of ponies were smuggling illegal rainbows out of Cloudsdale for some unknown reason, and they had to team up with the Cloudsdale Rangers to get to the bottom of it.

It turns out, when dried and ground, rainbows make a pretty decent, albeit unhealthy, replacement for chilli powder.

Their job, on their end, was to intercept the shipment of rainbow juice coming in and trail it to the processing plant.

To cut a long story short, it ended up with 8 arrests, the plant being shut down, and a job well done.

To everyone's surprise, amazingly, Berry was the one who initially found the plant by applying a bit of lateral thinking, which is a nice way of saying she had a really insane idea that worked. She figured that handling a bunch of rainbow powder would be messy work, and that it would definitely get everywhere, and essentially all you needed was to moisten up the place - something easily done by their Pegasus friends - and they literally found their gold at the end of a dozen or so rainbows.

Back at the station, though, Canary celebrated this victory with five minutes to herself at her desk. But this called for something extra special. She withdrew a key from the back of one of her drawers, and twirled it around her horn as she brought it over to Berry.

"Hey, I got a surprise for you. Come with me," she told Berry, tearing her away from her chatting and her celebratory soda.

Canary brought her to the back of the station, where all the things were kept. Things, of course, being a relative word; most of their equipment and important items were kept there, but what Canary was going for was the cupboard that held a Bunch of Weird Objects.

These objects collected over the years. No one in the station knew when it started, or even why, but it was pretty obvious it was because their predecessors simply had no place else to put them and decided to fill a cupboard with it. They had added to it over the years, and basically it was just a box of toys that no one used. They were misfits, every single one of them.

The key turned in the lock, why they bothered Canary hadn't the faintest, and the cupboard doors swung open. Within, stacked up on shelves and hanging on hooks, were various devices of all sorts, a veritable museum of nick-knacks and gewgaws.

"What's this about, Sarge?" asked Berry, her eyes jumping from object to object.

"Think of it as an unofficial reward, Berry. You get to take something from the closet."

"Ooooooo," Berry's eyes widened. The closet. She had only dreamed.

"Yeah, I know you like your gadgets, so take your time and pick..."

"This one," said Berry, pulling a helmet off a hook.

"That thing?"

"Yeah, this thing," Berry nodded rapidly.

"Alright. Straight to business, eh?"

"Yeah, I love it. You know, I never knew... what do you call this spinning red light, anyway?"

"That... that's actually called a Berry, Berry," Canary explained, locking the cupboard back up.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Wow, that's a sign, Sarge. I'm going to wear it always," Said Berry, trying the helmet on for size.

"Uh... it's best that you don't..."

"Say cheese, Boss," said Silver, cutting in suddenly. A flash went off as an unflattering photo of Canary and Berry was taken.

"Hey," Canary frowned.

"'s for th' mem'ries, Boss!"

"Yeah, but don't use official police equipment to do it!"

"Hey, Sarge, want some cake? There's cake out there!"

"Ok, ok, enough of this. Everypony keep quiet," Canary waved the noises off and returned to her desk, away from the general party, leaving Berry behind to enjoy what was essentially hers to celebrate.

She looked at the empty picture frame that stood on the desk, boring and alone. At least, she thought, she might finally have a use for it.

Berry's first completed mission, huh?

It felt good, oddly. It felt like Canary herself had completed a huge undertaking, but normally when she closed a case she just felt like any other day. This time, there was something else. A sense of pride that wasn't necessarily hers to begin with.

She didn't know what to make of this feeling, but it was best to bury it along with everything else she didn't understand. Less trouble that way. Less trouble.

She looked up from the desk to watch Berry mill about, smiling and laughing and getting congratulations all around. Only herself and Blue Beat weren't taking part, and Blue Beat had an actual excuse.

And that silly helmet with the lights on... she really hoped that Berry would forget about it eventually and leave it behind.

And she didn't know why she cared.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Canary opened the door to the interrogation room a good half hour after they had entered, striding out amongst the floor and contemplating what had just occurred. Obviously, nothing was solved. Their prime suspect was now sitting inside that room over there, and Canary had made arrangements for her to be moved to a holding cell for the time being, which Blitz didn't argue against. They were there to ask if they could stay over in the first place, she said, so everything seemed to work out in some funny way.

Outside she saw Berry chatting to Duriandal, casually, almost as if they were friends. But unfortunately that had to end.

"Berry, a minute, please?"

"Sure Sarge, what's up?"

"I don't yet have a complete bead on the situation, but we need to step things into a higher gear. I'm not convinced that Blitz is the culprit, but some parts of her story aren't adding up either. What have you two been talking about on your end?"

"Well I was just chatting with her, Sarge. Apparently after we left from her shop the first day, she sent a letter to that other one to ask for some company because she didn't know anyone else."

"You don't say."

"Yeah, I mean, isn't that sad? No family or anything. She had to rely on a perfect stranger, and she was complaining about how you turned her down when she asked if she could stay, Sarge."

"Yeah, can't do anything about that. Regulations. We aren't a hotel."

"Well, maybe things have changed now?"

"Yeah yeah, you don't have to bargain on her behalf. She's in danger now, or... maybe she's a suspect, I don't know which. Either way, sufficient reason to give her a spot in the cell."

"Alright!" said Berry, cheerfully, happy to help out a fellow pony. "Well also, the reason why she came here was because she saw something, twice."

"Let me guess. Glowing red eye. Funny mouth."

"Yeah, Sarge, exactly right."

"Yeah, that's what Miss Breeze said, too. So if we are to believe them, this character is stalking them. Might be linked to the murders too, we don't know. Anyway, there's one way to find out if Miss Breeze is guilty or not, but we're going to have to call her in."

"Lumi?"

"Yeah. Anyway, in the meantime, I'm going to have them put in a cell. All three of them. Give them cushions and blankets, and whatever else they ask for. Tell them nicely that they're being detained for their safety, and if they ask to be let out tell them it's for their safety that they stay here."

"Got it Sarge. Anything else?"

"Yeah, after you're done, let Silver know we need Lumi, and then go out and investigate the scene at Spiffington. Silver can bring you as well. I'm going to take a nap, because I've been awake nearly 2 days and I really would like to."

"I'm... gonna go myself, Sarge?"

"Yes, you are. Wake me up when you're back."

"A... alright, Sarge!"

"Listen, don't disappoint me, ok? If you need me, I'll be in the gallery."

"Yes ma'am!"

She'd better get a few hours in. Canary was running on fumes now, and as Berry started herding the three ponies to their temporary parking spaces, she allowed herself to let the thoughts drift from her mind.

It wasn't that she didn't care, but that if she constantly thought about it, there was never going to be any sleep for her, no matter how tired she was. It was one of the things that she struggled with, and had to teach herself to do - how to empty her mind, and let everything fade away, but not forget.

She pushed open the door to the viewing gallery, looking through the window at Berry ushering Blitz out of the room and turning off the light. As she was plunged into darkness, she thought about the picture on her desk, the one with her and Berry, and how the photo of their first case now lay within the gift of their first meeting.

There were a lot of firsts in this thought, and she knew it wasn't going to stop there. The first solo investigation by Berry would occur in a few minutes, and she hadn't any inkling of what kind of results there might be. But everything has to start somewhere, and everything had to end somewhere too.

And as she closed her eyes and let the sweeping rush of sleep take her, she realised that it wasn't going to end anytime soon.

The One Who Eats the Tail Pt 3

In the depths of the night stalked a creature beyond recognition. A manner of beast so foul as to cause children to shudder in their horseshoes and elderly women to run screaming for their lives at an incredibly slow pace. This beast had a name.

It also had a silly helmet.

Because, honestly, if something red and shiny came right at you in the middle of the night, you’re going to be a little shocked, at least until you realise it’s just a police officer with some irregular headgear. Most ponies didn’t bother to stick around enough to find out, especially not the ponies who lived at the rather upper-class Spiffington Estates, a gated community founded on one of the upper tiers of Canterlot. Everything was ‘up’ about this place, from the noses in the air to the general brow level of its citizens.

They were all, understandably, a bit on edge at the moment as well. News travelled fast in closed-off societies, and with the addition of the latest news reports, the two murders weren’t making anypony feel safe or secure.

It was three in the morning, that Wednesday, when Berry finally made it to the estates after taking care of other business. Quick Silver, the precinct’s do-everything pony, trotted behind. Both of them were carrying bags stuffed with supplies; the guards at the front gates did not allow Silver’s Cart to be flown in.

It would mess up the lawns, they said.

Berry thought they had far more worrisome things to be caring about, but order and ruling was a way for ponies to keep hold of the last remaining bits of comfort they had left, Canary taught her once, and she had to excuse them for having waylaid priorities.

Berry found it easy to excuse others. Silver, on the other hoof, was quietly grumbling to herself as she hoisted her heavy load.

Together they walked down the narrow, winding cobblestone street that snaked its way through lavish and trim yards. Smaller, flat stones set into the ground flew off the body of the main path, connecting the walkway to front doors. Berry felt like the whole estate was somepony’s pet garden project, and they went a little bit too far.

But what Silver said back at the station was right. It was pretty obvious which house had been the victim’s. Even in the blanket of night that fell over the houses, the heavy reds that painted the side of the wall of the 7th house on the left made it quite clear where most of the action took place, as Berry and Silver made their way towards it.

“Ok, Silver… ah…” Berry turned off her helmet as they reached the front of the house. She was not at all comfortable at the current moment. Usually, Canary would be around to give instructions or allow her to give instructions. Now, she was all alone, and she was taking point over a pony who was her superior by a few ranks.

“Um…”

“Yeah boss?” asked Silver, grinning.

“Uh… guess you could…”

“What am I ta’ do, boss?”

“Uh…”

“Hey, tell ya what, Rebs. I’m gonna go set up some bound’ry lines, put up th’ lights, all that stuff, an’ you go do your stuff, we both do our stuff, baddabing, baddaboom. S’good?”

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds good.” Berry nodded, looking guilty for her hesitation.

“Hey, Rebs. Relax, buddy. We all gotcha back, y’know that, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Silver. Thanks,” she returned a weak smile, letting her haunches drop. She was glad that it was Silver who was working with her; at least they had a level of familiarity, even though most of it was Silver taking delight in her awkwardness.

But here she was, at the scene of a particularly horrific crime, and she was all alone. She closed her eyes, a cold chill trembling through her, as she started to recall all her training in the frosty night air.

First. Canvassing.

Canvassing was simple enough – a quick cursory glance at the surroundings before delving into the thick of it; like tasting the garnish before attacking the delicious centrepiece of your dinner plate. Take note of your environment. Sometimes, the environment can tell you more about the scene than the actual scene does.

Well, everything was pretty standard, for one of these sorts of communities. The houses were fairly close together, only allowing space for more garden, and there weren’t even any fences separating them apart. Curtains were drawn shut, and all lights were off, normal for this time of night.

But you could tell, from the sway of the curtains and the way things felt, that behind those closed doors, someone was watching. Ponies always watched ponies in these kind of places, and there was not a single shred of doubt that she was being watched right now.

Everything else outside of the crime scene was just a mirror of the house opposite, right down to the individual blades of grass. Nothing was out of place, nothing special about the house, nothing at all that would draw unneeded attention.

Canary always said that location was everything when choosing a crime scene. While it was a fact that a criminal chooses a location specifically for his or her crime, so too can that location tell you about the criminal.

So, Berry, what have you got? You have a wide open space, easily accessible, in plain view. You also know that the crime occurred sometime the night before, in the evening or the late evening. There was nothing special about the place, which meant one of two things – either the target was extremely specific, or extremely random.

But out here, where everypony could see you… it didn’t seem like the smartest choice for a random killing. It must have been deliberate, right? That would seem to suggest that this crime was in fact linked with the one that happened earlier, something that, really, was a giveaway by this point. But Berry was happy to have deduced something all by herself, no matter how obvious it might be.

But still, something was rather off about the whole deal. Something that Berry herself couldn't quite narrow down. But perhaps it was enough of this for the time being - there were more dire things to take care of.

The next part was the hardest part in a long line of parts. She had to approach the actual scene itself. But that, in on itself, wasn’t the difficult bit. The difficult bit was the same reason why the lights were still on in this house. The difficult bit was walking up the pathway and talking to the family that just lost a member.

Maybe that’s why she spent this long on the first bit, because she hated this one. Normally Canary would handle it, under usual circumstances – she always had a way of knowing what to say even if she didn’t necessarily believe it – but this time old Berry was by her lonesome. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door, hoping desperately that by the time she reached it, she’d have thought of something to say.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

None of the three of them could get any sleep. They tried, yes, huddled up in the dark under some nice warm blankets and on comforters that actually did what they said, but burning curiosity in the minds of all three of them decided to take over and force one of them to speak.

“So…” said Night Flare, generally.

“Yeah…” replied Blitz.

Duriandal kept quiet, her own way of joining in on the conversation.

“This is weird,” said Night Flare.

“Quite,” said Blitz.

“…” said Duriandal.

“So… uh… what are you in for?” asked Night Flare.

“Murder. You?” asked Blitz.

“Same.”

Another few seconds of uneasiness passed by unhindered.

“Uh… what about you, Duriandal?” asked Night Flare.

“Wait, you know her?” Blitz cut in, sitting up.

“Yeah I just met her last night. What, you know her too?”

“In a manner of speaking… I also just met her two nights ago.”

"Two nights ago?"

"Yeah, what about?"

There began a soft tapping in the corner of the cell.

“Well, I snuck a look at yesterday’s newspaper that somepony left on the desk where I was at just now…”

“So you sort of know the details. then?”

“Yeah.”

The tapping grew louder as the pace kicked up slightly.

“Don’t you find it weird that somepony got murdered at the same time that you and I both met her?”

Blitz turned her head, looking at the silhouette of the little pony, the lumps in the blanket shaking as she rapped sharply on the floor.

“I think you’re upsetting her, Flare.”

“Yeah but look, really! It’s just odd. I mean, we know each other, right? But we both only just met this Duriandal here, if that’s even her real name, and suddenly we’re all mixed up in this whole mess.”

“It’s just a coincidence, that’s all.”

“It’s a pretty big coincidence!”

“Look, she’s got nothing to do with it. Honestly. She’s just the owner of the perfume store where the first murder occurred, ok?”

“Whoa whoa, what?” exclaimed Flare. “You mean to tell me that she’s the one you make those cloud thingies for?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Do you know what they found at the scene of the second murder?”

“Yes, I know. Believe me, I know. I was questioned about it at length.”

“And you still think it’s a big coincidence?”

“Yes! How would she have even got to the park, anyway? I was with her all the while, except one short period when I had to go back to Cloudsdale. I left her at some weird night club and picked her up from there when I got back. I highly doubt she’d have the time to go to the park to commit murder, wash herself off, and then return.”

The tapping reached a fever pitch now, although a few moments later and it abruptly stopped. She’d reached the final bottle, thought Breeze.

“Wait, wait, a night club? You mean Le Pouze?”

“I think that was the name, yeah.”

“That’s where I met her!” said Flare, frantically, with an edge of alarm on her voice, as if she came to some sort of astounding conclusion. “Don’t you see what that means?”

“No, I don’t, Flare. What does it mean?”

“I dunno either! But it means something!”

“Ok, now you’re just being stupid,” said Breeze, not holding back any words. “And you’re really upsetting her, so just drop it, ok?”

“Ok, ok, jeez, but you gotta admit it’s really suspic…”

“I DID NOT DO IT!” screamed Duriandal suddenly, the first thing she said all night and giving both Breeze and Flare a bit of a shock.

The stunned hush between them was only broken by the night-shift guard poking his head in to check if everything was ok or not. It was also kind of pointless to wait the few moments for him to be out of earshot before continuing the conversation, but they did so anyway out of natural habit.

“Um… yeah, alright,” said Flare, finally conceding the point.

"Look, I know it's stressful, ok? It's hard for all of us, But really, just take it easy. There's nothing to be gained by throwing around blame like that. And besides, Duri's... sensitive."

"Boy, I'd say," muttered Flare, to herself.

"What was that?" asked Breeze.

"Nothin'. I mean, honestly, it's actually kinda lucky that she ran into me back at the club," Flare sniffed, indignantly. "Wasn't really nice what you did to her, you know?"

"What are you talking about now?" the irritation in Blitz's voice came through. She did not like how defensive Flare was being, and it seemed like she was now targeting Breeze, herself, as a dumping ground for her stress.

"I mean, leaving her in a place like that? What were you thinking?"

"It was the only place open that time of night! And we didn't really know the area well. It was fine for a little while."

"Yeah, well, it still didn't change the fact that she got drunk and could have been taken advantage of, right?"

"Didn't you say she met you in the club?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So wasn't it you who got her drunk!?"

Duriandal sneezed. It was cold in those cells. She was still huddled under the blanket, but was shivering for a number of reasons, temperature only being one of them.

"I just offered to buy her a couple of drinks, that's all! How was I supposed to know that she was such a lightweight?"

"Well next time find out before you start throwing drinks around!"

"Oh, what am I supposed to do then? Just go around asking everypony I meet, 'hey, if I bought you a drink, would you be able to handle the pressure?'"

Blitz rubbed her temples in the gloom of the cell. Beside her, Duriandal lay, face toward the wall, shivering ever so slightly and giving off the odd sneeze once in a while. On the opposite end lay Night Flare, who melded nicely into the dark. She was collapsed down on her back, eyes closed, face to the ceiling.

Blitz exhaled, surrendering to the hours.

"Ok, look. None of us wants to be here, alright? And we're all a little on edge. I don't know about you, but I'm going to go get some sleep, and maybe you should too," Blitz declared, falling back and getting into resting position as well.

And just like that, the room was plunged into the mired quiet of a concrete cavern. The last remaining sound came from Duriandal, who still sneezed from the chill every so often.

It was five minutes later when an extra blanket was dumped unceremoniously over Duriandal's shuddering torso, which welcomed the extra warmth immensely. As she snuggled down, finding the cold air losing the battle, she gave a little muffled thanks, too tired to lift her head from the padded ground.

"Thank you, Blitz..." she said, as slumber caught up.

"Hmph," muttered Flare to herself, as she returned to her corner, wrapped herself up with a wing and struggled, blanket-less, to put herself to sleep as well.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Berry hit the doorbell with a little bit of hesitation, the bright chimes disguising the overtones of the general mood that hung in the air. She puckered her lips, listening carefully to the thumping and scrambling noises of the ponies behind the door. They were probably getting 'prepared' for the meeting, always fearing the worst, but not really knowing that statistically, the likelihood of the actual murderer coming back to knock on their front door was practically zero.

She rung the doorbell again, clearing her throat and identifying herself. This was another thing that she didn't really get; why people in distress are so quick to simply just believe in a word, which could very easily have been a lie. Just saying 'police' made all that much of a difference. But it was required, Canary told her. It was required just to make things a tiny bit better.

And every little bit did help. This part of the process was like a mine-field, with Berry on one side and precious information on the other. Every new pony brought a new configuration of mines, and one wrong step meant that you'd never get the information that you really needed. It was a very sensitive, tricky situation, and one that Berry had no prior experience in.

The door did open, as expected, shortly after. There was a chain attached, of course, preventing the whole thing from swinging completely open, and Berry could see the faint outline of some sort of blunt instrument hovering behind the distraught Unicorn who greeted her at the narrow crack of an opening.

"Constable Berry, CPD, sir. May we have a few words?" she said, slowly.

"Oh... yes, of course. Pardon me, officer," said the pony, as the door shut and chains were moved around.

I'm not really an officer, thought Berry, looking back at Silver. She really wondered why Canary had suddenly thrown her into the deep end like this. Was it the best of decisions? The door clicked as it opened again, this time fully, revealing the household of the Blush family.

For a house in these parts, it was everything that Berry had expected, although nothing she had ever seen. She, herself, lived in a very small place with her family, and truth be told, it suited her just fine. This house was clearly extravagant.

The living room was painted with portraits and fancy mirrors and other such things. There was a plush woven carpet over the floor, and those large wooden chairs that you could get curled up in comfortably. A fireplace roared over on the far wall, and a miniature chandelier addressed the exact centre of the room.

"Please, come in," said the same stallion, with a shaky voice. He was trying very hard to show a brave face; his wife was not so together, though, as she stared blankly at the coffee table in front of her, from her position on the couch.

"Thank you Mister...?"

"Summer. Summer Blush, and this is my wife Winter." he said. "You... you sure came fast."

"Mister Blush. We arrived as fast as we could."

Of course, in a world with limited communication, fast meant anytime within an hour, and even more impressive was the fact that they hadn't sent out a message to the police at all.

"Have you found our daughter?" was the first, most deadly question.

"I'm afraid I have bad news."

The words ran themselves off a cliff. Although for some reason, they didn't seem to be more affected by the news.

"I'm... very sorry for your loss, Mister and Missus Blush."

"It's fine," was the only reply. Granted, it was said in a voice that sounded gravelly and quiet, but Berry had to admit that she found this sort of ability to hold together quite rare in her line of work.

"You don't seem to be too surprised by the news," Berry commented, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"We aren't. We're practical ponies, officer. We've already come to terms that it was a very real possibility, and well... you know how you're always hearing stories about how children get kidnapped and the parents always just seem to know that their child is alive, even after years have gone by, and it turns out to be true?"

Berry nodded.

"Well, the reverse is true as well, officer," the father sniffed, lifelessly. "It's not that we don't care, or we don't have any hope. It's just that..."

"You're practical," reaffirmed Berry, trying to at least show that she understood where they were coming from, and their peculiar method of rationalization. "I understand."

"Can... can we get you anything, officer?" muttered the other woman in the room. Her eyes were shot red from crying, her hair was in a veritable mess and she didn't seem to look at Berry when she spoke. "Tea, maybe?"

"Please, some tea would be lovely," said Berry. They are prone to offer assistance, out of guilt, said Canary once, and so was the case here. They would feel that they were useless for the inability to stop what had happened, and will try their best to show that they have some purpose. Do not ever deny them this opportunity.

Berry still felt off every single time she had to be waited on by the bereaved, though. The lady shuffled, quite literally, into what she assumed was their kitchen, while the one named Summer stood there and offered his assistance.

"Um... Mister Blush? The police are doing everything they can to find out who did this..."

"Okay..." was the reply. There was still no life in it at all. And Berry just found it hard to continue along any sort of path of inquisition with it this way. She'd seen Canary do this a hundred times before, but when it came down to it, she was at a loss for words, caught between all of Canary's advice and police protocol.

"And we want to assure you that we'll do what's necessary to apprehend whoever did this to your daughter."

"Alright. Is that all you came here for?"

"Um... you have our sympathies..."

"Well, that's just not good enough, is it?" replied Summer, irritated. "You come in here with your words of pity and what good is it?"

"We..."

"Look, if you have nothing to help with, just leave us, ok?"

A tight squeezing started to occur in the depths of Berry's chest somewhere. She had started to panic, which is something that was entirely unnecessary at the point, but she couldn't get out of the fact that she might have just messed things up entirely.

Alright, Berry. Slow down. Calm down. Just think.

Thoughts move a million miles a second, and in the three seconds that passed, she had already thought of everything that Canary had said, what Canary would do, and what Canary had taught her.

But she wasn't Canary, was she? As much as she adored and wanted to be like Canary, she wasn't Canary. She was Berry. And Berry was here, now, in this room, not Canary, and Berry should be the one to speak.

It was all rather confusing. But Berry gathered up every single bit of strength she had left and invested it in a leap of personal faith.

"We can't help," said Berry, suddenly, eyes locking with the angry Unicorn across from her. That was the first step.

"What?"

"Sir, I'll be honest with you. All those things I just said... we're taught to say them. I think you know, too. And you're right about it. They're meaningless. It really doesn't matter. You're right that we can't help either."

"So... leave!" he yelled, indignant.

"No, sir. I can't. I won't lie and say I understand what you and your family are going through right now, but I can't leave. Not yet. Sir? What has happened is an atrocity. It is... something that no pony should ever have to go through, but for some reason it did. And that's the part we can't help with.

"But what I want to do... me, not the police, not anypony else, but what I want to do is find the pony who did this to you and make sure he can never do it again. And I don't know what you're going through right now, and I don't know how you feel, but I just have to ask you if you can just... help me. No matter how hard, I really, really need your help."

She was practically begging.

"You need my help?"

"Yes, sir."

The stallion looked like he couldn't rather understand what had just been said to him. There were far too many things on his mind, and he struggled to disregard most of it. But there was just one burning question he really needed to know.

"You... actually care?"

"Yes, sir. That's why I joined the police. When I was young, someone once showed me what it really meant to help others, and I guess I just want to help ponies as much as I can now. I'm not really supposed to say that, but I guess it doesn't matter."

"Al...alright. Thanks for... being honest, I guess, officer," he softened.

"Look, let's just drop all the 'officer' stuff, alright? I'm Berry," she smiled.

"So, what... what do you need, Berry?"

"Well, could you tell me about... her?"

She didn't have to specify. It was obvious whom she was speaking of, and she really hated to say the word 'deceased'.

The wife returned, floating a tray of teacups and a steaming hot teapot.

"Sugar?" she asked, rattling the tray as it hit the tabletop.

"Oh, no, thank you," Berry politely declined, as they all took a moment to themselves.

After a while, and three half-emptied cups later, Summer began to speak again.

"We... we met, Winter Blush and I, a long time ago. Back then she was just 'Winter', but she decided to take half my name just because it seemed to match. Our two daughters we named Autumn and Spring. Spring's up in her room now... she locked herself in ever since this started and won't come out."

"Understandable," said Berry. "It must be hard on her."

"She's only three, Berry," Summer pleaded. "Why did this have to happen?"

"I genuinely wish I could tell you," said Berry.

Summer sniffed, catching a few breaths. "Well, Autumn... Autumn was always a good kid, you know? She was just out of school, and she had a job babysitting kids in the park."

"Wait, which park?"

"The one down Maplethorn. Why?"

"That's... where we found her, Mister Summer."

"I see," he sighed. "Do you... know how she went?"

"Yes. It seemed that someone had attacked her with something very sharp."

"Well, that makes sense."

"What does, Mister Summer?"

"I assume you'll be wanting to investigate the place where it happened, right? You'll see."

"Alright," Berry nodded, not wanting to push the subject. "Do you know if Autumn had any enemies?"

"Enemies? Definitely not. Everypony loved her. She was a real good kid. Got along with everypony. Always came home on time, respected her elders. Good, good kid."

"Was anything at all out of the ordinary last night?"

"Well, I don't think so, no. It was just like every other day, she'd finished with the kids at the park and come home. Actually, she came back a little late, and she must have been tired because she went straight to her room. We both saw her."

"About what time was this?"

"Around 10:30 to 11."

"And you're sure it was her?"

"Well, yeah," he nodded to his wife, who nodded in return. "We caught her from behind, but you can't mistake her colours."

"And then what happened?"

"Well, it was about ten minutes later and then we heard the sound of her window breaking, and we all rushed to the room, all of us, and when we got there... well, you'll see."

"You didn't touch anything since then?"

"Not a hair. We didn't even enter the room. Not that we wanted to. But she was gone. Disappeared. We searched the entire house after that, and outside. Bolted ourselves in. And then you showed up."

"Don't suppose you can think of anything else that was out of the ordinary, can you?"

"No, Berry. It's the same thing that happens every day, you understand. We didn't pay any specific attention to anything."

"Alright, thank you. If you didn't mind, I'd like to see her room now, please."

"Of course. Just down the hallway to your left. It's the first door. It has her name on it."

"And for what it's worth," Berry said, as she swung around to move to the crime scene, "I am sorry for what happened."

"Us too, Berry. Us too."

---

The hallway was narrow, unbecoming. Framed pictures of the family hung on the walls, and there was an end-table with a flowerpot on it right at the corner. Two rooms here, side by side, one labelled 'Autumn' and one labelled 'Spring'.

The door to Spring's room was tightly shut, and no noise came from within. Autumn's door, however, was ajar, and Berry poked her head in hesitantly.

It was a girl's room. Basically that. Posters of the latest bands wallpapered the space, and there was the usual stuff that every rich girl had - a mirrored table with beauty products littering the drawers, and a phonograph machine with her favourite records.

A large bed also displayed itself proudly on one side of the room, happy to be free of the blood that pooled around the window just beside it.

Berry now understood what Mister Summer had meant; the window was broken, and one of the large shards that lay on the ground was covered with crimson. No doubt, this was what was used to attack the poor girl, and cause that laceration in the back of her neck.

However, it wasn't just one of the large shards, it was the only shard. In fact, there was surprisingly little blood around the window and shard itself, and all the other fragmented pieces of glass were entirely absent. It seemed way too clean to be a murder scene, and Berry found herself with some hard thinking in her hooves.

And there was just one other thing she really needed to find out before she left. Just one. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for signs of a sign. They came to rest on a dollhouse that was turned, facing the wall. She nodded, and walked up to it, knowing exactly what she'd find.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Wakey, wakey, Princesses," said Canary, the morning sun now streaming through the window. She managed to have a good few hours sleep, and so did her guests by the look of things. They all rubbed out the daze from their eyes and got up slowly, blinking and gathering their thoughts.

The one named Night Flare seemed a bit more dour than the other three; she had about her a face of irritability, which might have been caused by the fact that she did not have a blanket. She was clearly trying to control the fact that she was freezing, a brave air in a cold cell.

Duriandal remained a lump under her double insulation, not willing to stand up, while Blitz's gaze travelled from her to the shivering Flare, who was trying to look unperturbed by the situation.

For just that moment, their gazes locked.

"She stole my blanket last night," Flare said, huffily, casting away all suspicion.

Blitz just didn't say anything in return.

"Alright, good news and bad news," said Canary to them, through the bars. "Bad news is that you lot aren't going anywhere for a while. We kindly ask for your patience and all that nonsense while we find out if you did it, and we'll not really be able to find out until our friend gets here, who actually works normal hours."

"Good news is you get breakfast on us. Just tell my friend here what you want and he'll get it for you, alright?" Canary ushered in the other pony who had a hoof in 'prepping' Flare the night before, whose tone nearly turned from black to grey.

He smiled at them openly.

Canary returned to the main floor, where Berry had returned from her 'visit' and was eager to get something inside of her as well.

To her delight, Canary had pulled out some leftover lentil stew from the fridge and warmed it up, where it sat ready to be digested by the ravenous Berry.

"You're a lifesaver, Sarge," she said as the bowl was passed along to her.

"Don't mention it. How'd it go?"

"Yeah, it went great, Sarge!"

"I know, otherwise I wouldn't have let you do it by yourself."

"Then why ask, Sarge?" Berry stuffed her mouth with a huge heaping spoonful of delicious warm vegetable gravy and legumes.

"Yeah, good point. Remind me not to, next time. Anyway, what did you get from it?"

"Wrff, srgh," she swallowed. "Um... we found the sign. It's connected. It was on a dollhouse that was in her room? Somepony had just stepped on it upside down and then set it back up again, but facing the wall. I think it was deliberate, 'cuz it had... man, Sarge, this is good."

"Family recipe, Berry."

"Really, Sarge?"

"Cafe down the street, Berry. You were saying?"

"Mmph, yeff," she took another mouthful. "It was placed in a way that was like, hidden, so we were supposed to find it, I think. Under the hoof mark, somepony had written 'two have been freed'."

"So, it's the same bunch of ponies."

"Yeah, seems like."

"Although miss Blitz contends that they only saw one. The one that they saw at the shop and the one that Duriandal saw outside that silly club. Anyway, go on?"

"It seems that a piece of glass was what did her in, Sarge. From a broken window in her room. Looks like she was attacked inside her room, and then carried out. I know this because the window was locked, but the glass was broken. And get this, Sarge, the glass was broken from the inside."

"Shards of glass on the outside of the window?"

"Yeah, except one, which was really bloody, I think it was the murder weapon itself."

"I see," Canary said, trying to piece the scene in her head.

"Right, so the one thing that I didn't get was this... it was like, really really open. The whole scene was set up perfectly, it was like it was rehearsed, Sarge."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's an open area, and you really can't make noise without anypony knowing. Neighbours would be able to hear, the family was at home when it happened... and I was asking myself what felt wrong, and what felt wrong was that everypony knows when you're baking cookies."

"Yes, yes they do."

"No matter what you do to hide, somehow, everypony knows that you're baking cookies, and they come running, right, Sarge? Because everypony loves a cookie. So I was thinking, what is the only time when you don't come running when you notice cookies?"

"Haven't the faintest, Berry."

"When you already know that cookies are being made, Sarge."

"So... you're saying the family was in on it?"

"No, no, of course not, Sarge. What I'm saying is that... when I was talking to them, they said that they saw their daughter come home late, right? But I went to talk to the neighbour, who was awake because I noticed him peeking at me through his curtains, and he told me that he saw her coming back early."

"And this has to do with cookies how?"

"Well, what if the cookies that were being made were not cookies, but something else that looked like cookies? You still wouldn't come running, if you knew."

"Berry, I really think the analogy here is a bit stretched..."

"Makes perfect sense, Sarge!"

"Ok, let's try this in plain language. You have two conflicting stories about when the victim returned home. What does that mean?"

"Means that... either the victim came home, left again and then went home again, or only went home once, Sarge."

"You're saying that you think the perp just walked right in, said hello to mommy and daddy and proceeded to do horrible things to the victim?"

"Yeah, Sarge, it makes sense. No struggle, the blood was all contained to the wall area, the parents didn't get a good look at her, only from behind, and they said she just went straight to her room without saying hi."

"Ok, so no hello to mommy and daddy."

"No, Sarge, but I also think we're dealing with a single perp, too."

"So let me get this straight. At some time during the night, the actual daughter comes home. The parents don't notice her then, but then somepony who looked a lot like her walks in. Then... how long until...?"

"They said ten minutes until they heard glass breaking, Sarge."

"No screams? Nothing else to alert anypony?"

"Apparently not, Sarge."

"So, the daughter doesn't scream, doesn't shout, gets stabbed in the neck, and has the whole scene set up and nopony notices?"

"Yeah Sarge."

"That's impossible."

"Yeah, it is, Sarge."

"Then why did you..."

"Just what I think, Sarge. It's the only way, right?"

"We're missing something here."

"We are, Sarge, but still, it's pretty similar to the first scene, right?"

"How so, Berry?"

"In both cases no one noticed. Miss Duriandal woke up and found all the blood everywhere. She didn't hear a thing, right? So this pony is really silent, or something."

"This thing is just going all over the place, Berry. Three ponies, two ponies, one pony... which one is it? Earth? Unicorn? Pegasus? And now we're saying he might be some sort of crazy silent master of disguise?"

"Maybe he's just really really good, Sarge."

"And just like the first scene," Canary added, "The bodies were moved. Seems to be part of the MO, but the question is, why?"

"Well, In the second case, Sarge, it was dropped right on that Pegasus we have locked up in there, right?"

"Right."

"And in the first case, the body was dumped at the docks, right?"

"Right."

"Which means..."

"What have you got, Berry?"

"... I dunno, Sarge."

"... Berry."

"No, really, Sarge, I dunno!"

"Why the hay did you even..."

"Well usually when I do that you suddenly think of something yourself, Sarge, and then finish it for me, and... I was just hopin'..."

Canary immediately discarded it. She would have loved to give all sorts of varied facial expressions that mirrored what she currently thought of that sort of thinking, but there just wasn't the time, damnit.

"And another thing that bothers me is that message, two are freed, or something. How many more are we supposed to expect?" asked Canary.

"I dunno, Sarge. Wicked Stable? Three more?"

"Well, everything's misty except for that one thing, isn't it?" Canary furrowed her brow. "We still got the books on us?"

"Sure, Sarge. They're over there."

"Go get them. It think it's time to see if we can really find out what this murderer has invested in this old legend. Maybe if we find that out, we can prevent further problems from happening."

"Sure, Sarge. I'll get started, alright?" Berry said, pushing her empty bowl away and heading back to her desk, where the books were kept.

"Hey, Berry, good job out there," said Canary.

"Thanks, Sarge!" Berry nodded.

Canary put her hoof to her face, just for a moment, trying to understand what this all was about. She didn't distrust Berry's assessment; no matter how whacky and unbelievable it might be, Canary still believed it to be accurate to the minute detail.

But if that were the case... what could this all be about? Everything they'd thought of, everything they'd summarily determined, was all being denied and counter-argued by every new piece of evidence that came in. They were back at square one again, with no leads except for a few ancient tomes and this Stable thing. Nothing seemed to connect except for that one point.

Something that Canary always had said was that there was nothing that they knew was definite. There wasn't going to be a truer case than this.

She looked up at a pony walking into the station. It wasn't too hard to notice at this time, when there were very few ponies up and about. It was just a tad bit too early for the regular crowd to come shuffling in, but she knew Lumi had always been early for everything. She was just that kind of pony.

The violet-coated pony came trotting in with a large yellow trenchcoat and a red wide-brimmed hat, and only she could make it look so elegant in the way that she did. She had that air about her, one of whom puts on the face of elitism, but deep on the inside is a very down-to-earth sort of pony who doesn't mind mucking about with the rest of the lads.

That was probably why she never minded walking into police stations all over Equestria to offer her unique skills.

"Well, it's about time, Lumi," said Canary. "Took your time getting here, didn't you?"

"Well of course, dear," replied the Unicorn. "One has to be... fashionably late, don't you know?"

"Right, right. Anyway, thanks for coming. Easy job for you today, no field work necessary. Just wait up in the interrogation room, would you?"

"Of course, dear."

Alright, thought Canary to herself, as she walked to the holding cells. Time to see if those three really are singing the truth.

"Ok, three of you. Follow me," she said to the trio of jailbirds, as the cell door slid open with a loud clang.

"What?! I haven't finished my breakfast yet!" complained Night Flare, a big huge pile of scrambled eggs, fried baby tomatoes and potato hash in front of her.

Canary noticed that on the other side, Blitz was having a humble salad, and two slices of plain toast seemed to be sticking out of Duriandal's chewing mouth.

"Well, pardon me for disrupting your free meal, but we have important things to do. So either come with me or I'll have to drag you."

Duriandal and Blitz didn't put up a fight. Quietly, Blitz put her food aside and walked out the door, and Duriandal followed suit, bread still in her mouth. At least her food was more mobile, and Canary didn't really care.

With much grumbling, Flare was the last one out of the cage, and the four of them finally made haste to the interrogation room.

"Alright, ladies," briefed Canary. "One by one you lot are going to step into the room with me. It will be dark, so watch your step. We'll check something, and then afterward, we'll bring you back to your precious meals. The faster this is over, the faster... this is over, really. Let's just get it over with, yes?"

"And just exactly what are you going to do with us in there?" asked Flare.

"Flare, please," said Blitz quietly.

"No! I know my rights! I have the right not to be dragged into a dark room and molested by an angry cop!"

"Don't be stupid, they're not going to do anything like that. Just listen to the officer and behave."

"Oh, listen and behave, is it? Then why is it that she," Flare poked an accusing hoof at Duriandal, "gets to bring her breakfast with her when the nice officer asked us to leave it behind?"

Duriandal, at that, suddenly stopped chewing, and spit the half-eaten slices of bread into an up-turned hoof.

"Duri, it's ok. Just keep eating, ok?" Blitz said to her, turning around.

"See that, that's called favouritism, it is. There's no rules here! There's no rules in a... police station!"

"Ladies," Canary said, sternly. "Am I missing something here?"

"No, officer. Look, I'll go first, alright?" said Blitz.

"Like flank you will," said Flare, stepping in front of Blitz. "And get molested? No, I'mma go first. Don't wanna see you cry, after all."

"I don't really care who goes in first, but somepony better get moving soon," said Canary.

Duriandal slowly moved the bread back to her mouth, keeping a very sharp eye on the other three.

The door flew open and Flare stepped in, with an ambivalent Canary stepping close behind. Lumi was already inside, waiting and prepared.

The door shut and the lights were turned off by Canary, who used the familiarity of the room to make her way to Flare's side. Even in pitch blackness, she had no trouble traversing the empty space.

"Uh, alright, officers. What now?" asked Flare, nervously. All trace of her past brashness disappeared now that she was alone, and she did not at all enjoy the lack of sight that the room provided.

"It's very simple. Did you know that blood takes a very long time to disappear?"

"Uh... well yeah, I guess. Bloodstains can't get out of clothing easy."

"Not just that, Miss Flare. I mean even if you wash it, some trace still remains. Like for example, if you had just killed somepony, and there was blood on you, and if you washed it off later, we'd still be able to see it."

"But... but you already know that there's blood on me! I was there at the park! That stupid body landed right next to me!"

"We're just being sure, Miss Flare. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt, alright?"

Before Flare could answer, a spark lit up the room, bathing it in an eerie violet. The spark came from the tip of Lumi's horn, which now glowed with that strange not-light, faintly casting form to the common area where three ponies stood.

Everything, that is, except for any trace of blood, which shone brightly, like fireflies, under that special light.

"Oh... oh my Colt! Ahhhh! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!" screamed Flare.

Outside of the room, Duriandal and Blitz jumped a bit at the sudden screaming. Blitz almost entertained the thought that they were doing something particularly nasty to Flare on the inside, but quickly squelched that thought. Nopony else in the station seemed to react to the sudden screaming, almost as if they had all heard it many times before.

"What is that what is that what is that?!" Flare kept yelling, backing up to a wall and throwing her back against it, pointing at Canary.

More accurately, she was pointing at the multiple splotches of bright blue that coated nearly all of Canary's legs and ran up her chest. The room itself, too, had large pools of the glowing light in random places, especially around the table, which was nearly completely covered in that magical azure.

"That is blood, Miss Flare."

"Why in the living hay is it all over the place? Why is it all over you!?"

"Police work is messy business, Miss Flare. You accidentally touch things, you step in things... it's unavoidable. And this room has a lot of... history, as well."

"THAT IS HORRIBLE," she shouted.

"Yeah, don't look down, then."

"Wha..."

Flare started to turn in a circle, like a dog chasing its tail.

"Ok, stand still, Flare, and really, don't worry. It's not like there's blood just streaming down where it lights up. It's really just trace. There's barely anything left, but we're lucky to know someone who can bring that out."

"Towel... I need a towel..."

"Won't really help, Miss Flare. Anyway, stand still."

She did as she was told, pressing her eyes together as tightly as she could and raising her head to the heavens. All down her side were speckles of blue, with a particularly large splotch along her midsection. But there wasn't anything anywhere else.

Well, this checked out, thought Canary. If Flare, on the off chance that this unlikely girl were part of it, had killed somepony, there'd be more evidence than merely the splash from the second body.

"Alright, Lumi, thanks," Canary said, flicking the light switch back on, and bringing the room back to the normal colours it was meant to be in.

The door was opened, and a particularly icky-feeling Flare was led out, stepping with way too much caution, as if the ground would eat her. Without a word of acknowledgement to anypony else, she made her unsteady way back to the cell.

"Uh... get her a shower," whispered Canary to Silver, who happened to be in the nearby vicinity.

"Alright, that... went well," said Canary, as she returned to the two remaining ponies.

"Is there anything we should be concerned about?" asked Blitz, concerned over the noises that they were exposed to.

"Well, for you, maybe," said Canary.

"Why is that, officer?"

"Because you're next."

The One Who Eats the Tail Pt 4

"Twilight, I really don't think..."

Never before was there a more hopeless case of persuasion, something that would have been a little bit more remarkable had it not occurred nearly every week. When a little baby dragon was the voice of reason over that of a fully-grown adult, there was cause for concern, and truly, Spike felt far older than his plentiful lifespan would allow him. Yesterday, he thought he found his first grey spine.

"Of course you don't think, Spike!" was the bubbly and cheerful response. Twilight Sparkle had a way of sounding cheerful about everything. More accurately, she was merely being dismissive, something that Spike had learnt to live with. "That's not what I pay you for, after all!"

"Uh... you don't pay me at all, Twilight," the dragon scratched his head.

"Well, that's right. what I meant to say was, there's really no need for concern. Anyway, I've made up my mind!"

It was those five words that truly marked the end of what could have been an extended discussion of any sort; and how many times had Spike heard her say that before? 'I've made up my mind', indeed. Under normal circumstances, Spike would have parted way for Twilight, happy to allow her to steadfastly blunder into situations which would fall apart at the seams and result in her writing some sort of letter of epiphany to Princess Celestia.

This time, however, Spike realised that perhaps it wouldn't be that good if that epiphany came in the form of Twilight's obituary.

Therefore, it was on this day that Spike decided, against all known logic, to actually attempt to convince Twilight out of her latest idea in a long line of ideas whose explicit purpose was to show off to her benefactor.

"Listen, Twilight, seriously," said Spike, gathering up his thoughts, and forming his words incredibly carefully to deliver a poignant and effective argument. "This is a really bad idea!"

"Don't be silly, Spike!" said Twilight, once again dismissing him, as she poured over book after book in her library cum home. "Now, if you really want to help me, go see if you can find me any book on ancient pony legends. Specifically, something called the Wicked Stable."

"But Twilight, this might be really dangerous! I really don't think it's a good idea! I mean... this isn't just a normal every day kind of thing like hydras or manticores or parasprites or anything! It's a special case!"

"Oh, I'm sure everything will be alright, Spike! You needn't have to worry. Anyway, I'll figure this out by tomorrow!"

"Um... Twilight? I know you're really smart and good with magic, but that's stretching it a little, don't you think?"

"Ok, fine, Friday, latest. You'll see, I'll catch this murderer and everypony will be safe and Princess Celestia will be happy and... ooooooooh!" Twilight shuddered.

"Don't you think Princess Celestia would be happier if you stayed out of trouble?"

"Well, if she was concerned, she would have said something, wouldn't she?"

"Well, that's true, but she doesn't really... brrraaaaaaaauuughh"

Coughing like there was a steak rammed down his throat, a green flame shot forth from the gaping maw of Spike the dragon, conjuring up the presence of a scroll that bore a very familiar, very royal seal.

"Ahem," said Spike, picking it up and unrolling it. "Dear Twilight Sparkle. It is about this time when I realise that both curiosity and an urge to fix things has overtaken you, and that you are about to embark on something extremely foolish and dangerous. As Princess, I urge you not to traverse down paths of dubious intent, and hereby order you to stay in Ponyville for the duration of the matter. You know what I'm talking about. Yours sincerely, Princess Celestia."

"It does not say that!" said Twilight, incredulously, pulling the scroll out of Spike's tiny hands and reading it for herself. "Blah blah blah... extremely foolish... yadda yadda... dubious intent... blah blah... stay in Ponyville?"

"Why do you sound so surprised? I just read that," said Spike.

"Because... because this is... did you tell her what I was up to, Spike?"

"How could I?" he shrugged. "You just told me yourself only ten minutes ago! Where'd you come up with this lame-brain scheme, anyway?"

"I read a book, Spike!"

"A book."

"After that whole thing with the police station the other day, I got curious, and I just had to read about it. Detectives for Dummies, The Collected Stories of Hemlock Holmes, and some strange books about policeponies on beaches. I had no idea they loved beaches that much."

"I always told Princess Celestia those books were nothin' but trouble, but does she listen to me?"

"It's... so exciting, Spike! Tracking down clues, revealing the culprit in the middle of a crowded room, and the final showdown; and the detective always gets appreciation by the chief!"

"And by 'chief' you mean...?"

"Princess Celestia, of course!"

"Of course," Spike said dryly, narrowing his eyes, and letting his arms fall lifelessly by his side. "Anyway, there's no point now, Twilight. The Princess doesn't want you leaving Ponyville."

"Well, If... that's how... it has to be..."

"Don't even think about disobeying her, Twilight!"

"Ooooh no. Oh no. I can't leave Ponyville. But..."

"Don't say 'but', Twilight, come on! Don't say 'but'!"

"... I can still bring them to me!"

"It's gonna be a long week, isn't it?" Spike groaned.

"New plan, Spike. Take a note," Twilight said, a glint in her eye.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Well, that's interesting," said Canary, giving Blitz the once-over. In the dim glow of Lumi's magical light, not a single speck of blue shone upon her coat. Canary checked twice just to make entirely sure, but it was true - Blitz was clean.

"Looks like you aren't a murderer after all," Canary told her, mockingly.

"Looks like you are, on the other hoof," joked Lumi.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't mind the stains. Comes with the territory, huh?" she consoled Blitz, who had remained quite silent during the whole thing, until now.

"I'm pretty used to a few stains," she then said in reply. "In any case, I'm not afraid of a little blood."

"That's good, that's good. Stronger stomach on you than that last one," Canary lifted her shoulder flanks. "Well, guess you're clear. That's the good news. Bad news is, you're still somehow involved in all this, and until we can discern what that is, exactly, we aren't too eager to let you go. If anything, it's for your own safety as well."

"Trust me, that comes as a welcome bit of news, officer. Duriandal and I, we both came here for that safety. And I know that you guys are just doing your job and I do understand, so let's just put it behind us and move on, alright?"

"You're pretty down to earth for a Pegasus," Lumi commented.

"It's not really the time to be flippant," explained Blitz.

"Yeah, well, maybe you could teach that friend of yours something. That Flare pony. Anyway, we'll get you back to breakfast now. Thank you for your time," Canary said as she directed Blitz toward the door.

Just as they left, Blitz stopped suddenly, causing Canary to back up in her place as well.

"Sorry, officer?" asked Blitz.

"Yeah?"

"Far... far be it for me to tell you folk how to do your job, but... Duri... Duri's sensitive. She's... and I'm going to say this nicely, she's like a child. Literally. I don't think she likes blood very much. I'm not trying to... you know..."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. We'll take care of her, alright? You just head back to your cell now. If you wanna take a shower, go check in with my colleagues."

"Thank you, officer. A shower would be nice."

The usual sound of a police station doesn't always include the noise of stampeding, especially that of applause. Even when they did a job worthy of such recognition, a chummier slap on the flank or a desk upgrade sent the message across perfectly, and as such, Canary found it slightly bewildering that a small group of bemused-looking police ponies had gathered in a small group around Duriandal just outside the room, and were, in fact, giving her stamped hooves.

Cries of 'that's amazing!' and 'there's gotta be some trick' also interjected the air and a set of photos that floated in front of Berry's face gave away some sort of clue to what they were up to.

Canary sensed a bad situation about to start and quickly said something, just as Blitz's mouth opened to say something herself. "Hey, get back to the cell. I'll handle this. Ok?"

Blitz paused, giving it some serious consideration, and then nodded in agreement, before walking off slowly. To Canary's surprise, she didn't turn around to look as she went, something that was rare indeed. Better live up to the trust, then.

"Ok, ok, what's going on?" she said, annoyed, as she pushed to the middle of the crowd.

"Sarge, girl's a genius or sum'in!" exclaimed one of the other members of the station. "Where can we get one of these for ourselves?"

"Berry," Canary said, ignoring that other fool.

"Oh, er... hi Sarge," said Berry, sheepishly.

Canary looked at Duriandal. She did not look at all too comfortable. Her legs were stood tightly closed together, her head was tilted down, and her eyes snuck away into an empty space between the ponies surrounding her. She wasn't exactly frowning, but she wasn't the posterfilly of carefree joviality either.

"Er..." Canary's eyes flicked back to Berry. "What... is going on here? Weren't you going through the books?"

"Yeah, I was, Sarge, but..."

"But?"

"I got... distracted?"

Canary let out a low rumbling sound. It was a breath trying to break free from her lungs, but was pressed down into the deep recesses of wherever anger was made. Most of the police ponies recognized it and decided that it was time to leave.

"G'luck, Rebs," whispered Silver, as she flitted past.

"Constable Berry," Canary spoke, each word sharp with razors. "Do you not understand that there is a murderer out there?"

"Yes Sergeant," she squeaked.

"And when I asked you to look through the books, I expect you to look through the books?"

"Yes Sergeant."

"So, explain to me the missing part between looking through the books and you now parading one of our witnesses around like a damn parade float?!"

"I... I wanted to help," said Duriandal, suddenly, a drop of rain fighting to be heard in a storm.

"What?"

"I wanted to help," Duriandal repeated.

"It's true, Sergeant," Berry added, in her own defense.

"Listen..."

"I know, Sarge. I know! Things got a little out of hand, alright? And I'm sorry. I really am. But she approached me first. Helped out a little, and then I remembered her memory thing back at her shop, and we just got carried away. Really, Sarge, it was only for a moment!"

"You know that's still no excuse!"

"I know, Sarge. I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry!"

"We'll talk about this later. What exactly happened?"

"She just came by my desk, Sarge, and it had the evidence on it and everything, I didn't even notice her coming along! And then suddenly she just said 'that's wrong', out of nowhere."

"That's wrong," Duriandal repeated, just in case.

"Just like that, Sarge," Berry explained. "And she was looking at it, and I was asking her, what's wrong? And she was like 'that is. That's wrong.' and was pointing at the cloud puffer thingie."

"And what's wrong about it, Miss Duriandal?" asked Canary.

"It is not broken," she said.

"It's not broken? What are you talking about? It's clearly broken. It's got some of its insides on the outside."

"That piece of wire does not go into the construction of the device," she went on. "There are no wires inside it."

Canary looked across the room at the thing on the desk, with the half-open lid and the long piece of string dangling from it.

"Are you saying that that piece of string or wire or whatever it is... that doesn't go into the construction of one of these things?"

"No," she said softly. "It seems that somepony has made it look as if it was, but it is not."

"I... see. I don't know what that means, but thank you anyway."

"There is... more," said Duriandal.

"I'm all ears."

"This... unit... is exactly the same one that was stolen from my shop by the first pony."

"Wait, what?"

"When we spoke, I informed you that there had been a theft of a cloud puffer the day before the incident. That cloud puffer is this one."

"How... could you possibly tell?"

"The cloud puffer that was stolen was one out of sixteen of this particular shape that I had on display. I had placed it in the rear of the shelf because it had a slight deformity. There was a 2.3 centimetre-long scratch on the bevel of the lid. Three units had been sold since display, but this one was the one that was stolen. I have surmised that this one was chosen because it would not be readily noticed if it were missing, since I had placed it all the way in the back."

"But..."

"But I noticed," she continued, looking at Canary. "The cloud puffer on your desk is of the same shape, size and dimension, and has a 2.3 centimetre-long scratch on the bevel of the lid," she concluded.

"Clouds... can be scratched?" asked Canary.

"Yes," said Duriandal. "If they can be cut, they can be scratched, yes?"

"... Yeah, I'll buy that," mumbled Canary, thinking. "Alright, that's... interesting. And what happened after that?"

"Well, she came over, Sarge. Said all this stuff to me, as well. I was like, wow, that's pretty amazing, and then the lads came over and they were like commenting on her detail and I just let it slip that she had an amazing memory, and then they started to quiz her, Sarge."

"Quiz... her?"

"Yeah, like... uh... like, 'in this photo, how many muffins are on the ground'?" Berry gave an example.

"None," said Duriandal, almost instantly.

"Wha... uh..." Berry took a closer look at her own photo.

"Because they're cupcakes, Berry. How many cupcakes."

"Fourteen," said Duriandal.

"Um... you get the idea, Sarge."

"Yeah, great sideshow. Listen, what you did? I get it, alright? Just... as long as you know what you're doing. I'll trust your discretion. I just don't like... you know."

"Yeah, I really am sorry, Sarge."

"Don't be, alright? I just got angry. It was... it was really my... look, anyway," she passed through. "Maybe we can use this to our advantage. I'm just going to run her quickly through Lumi first, she's been waiting a while, and then I'll be back to look through those books with you, ok?"

"Alright Sarge," Berry nodded solemnly, and headed back to her desk.

"Alright, Miss Memory," Canary turned full attention to her. "You ok?"

Asking her was quite redundant. She was very twitchy. Clearly, something wasn't ok. Her body movements, even down to those borderline imperceptible ones that only a trained police officer bothers to notice, were jerky and random. If anything, Canary would have said that she wasn't taking the stress at all very well, and she didn't know exactly what it was about her, but she knew that something up there worked differently from everypony else. This was going to be quite tricky.

Her head was still bent down low, and the highest she could look was up to Canary's chest, maybe. She worked hard to avoid direct eye contact with anypony. Maybe even avoiding the entire face altogether. Normally, Canary would read that as a sign of guilt. Maybe she did feel guilty, Canary didn't know. She also spoke wordily, and fast, but soft and with a very non-confrontational tone. That told Canary that she was smart but unsocial, a mix usually reserved for malcontents or certain breeds of psychopaths.

Ok, Canary. Don't start profiling her now. Quit your habit and treat her like a person. The problem, of course, with Canary's amazing acumen in pony behaviour was that she only knew how to apply it to bad ponies. Outside of that... she had no idea how to apply it. She wasn't one of those damn shrinks down at the facilities. She hated those shrinks. She always felt they allowed criminals to get away with terrible things, and get put in a 'facility' instead of behind bars where they belonged.

All it took was for a 'doctor' to peer into his mind and go 'oh, the poor dear isn't right in the head'. Yeah, obviously they weren't right in the head, otherwise they wouldn't be going around committing rampant crimes, you stupid damn son of a...

"Yes, miss police officer," Duriandal said, cracking through Canary's mind like a shot.

"What? Oh. Well, alright, just... follow me if you would. Tell me," Canary said, leading her to the interrogation room. "Are you afraid of blood?"

The non-response was response enough for Canary.

"Well, I just want to tell you before we go in there, what we're going to be doing is a little test. My friend in there can ah... reveal blood. Sort of. What's left behind when you wash things away. We're going to see if there's any blood on you, and that's all we want to see, alright?"

Duriandal nodded.

"Uh... there's going to be a lot of blood in there, actually. I just want to warn you because I don't want you to get... upset or anything."

"It will be... alright. I am not really afraid of blood."

"Alright. That's good to know. Thank you for... your participation. Could we get you to just... yeah..." Canary opened the door for her to enter where Lumi stood, waiting patiently.

"Who have we here?" she said kindly as Duriandal stepped in.

"Hello," said Duriandal. It's what one does when meeting ponies for the first time.

"Well, aren't you polite?"

"Yes."

"Uh..." Lumi tilted her head.

"Don't mind her," said Canary, shutting the door and turning off the lights. "Let's get going."

Lumi's horn flickered on, sending the walls into a deep velvet and brought them swimming in a hazy mist of magic.

Again, the stains on the floor and the table lit up as well as the ones that so irregularly decorated Canary herself.

Canary could hear Duriandal's eyes widen.

She had started to wheeze, grating, rough tones scratching against her constricting chest, as it became more and more rapid by the second.

"Oh boy, ok. Ok. Lumi, turn it off. Quickly," Canary instructed, checking out Duriandal's body as fast as she possibly could before returning normal light to the room. She looked on in dismay as the form of Duriandal was reduced to a quivering, twitching mess, those raspy breaths still coming thick and fast, and her eyes watering.

"Miss, are you alright? Do you need some water?" offered Canary.

Thereupon came a muttering from Duriandal's narrowly parted lips, a mere whisper from a child.

"I'm sorry, beg your pardon... could you..."

"IT'S SO DIRTY!" Duriandal screamed. "Oh my Colt so many stains! Why are there so many stains? Why can you not see it now? Where are they? Are they there?"

"Uh..." it was Canary's turn to be taken for surprise.

"What is that, officer? What is that? Why is there invisible stains? Are they everywhere?"

"No... it's blood... just blood, when you clean it up it remains..."

"Oh... oh my Colt oh my Colt oh my Colt," she started jumping up and down in place. "How do you clean it, how do you clean it?"

"We... can't really tell you that, Miss..."

"TELL ME!" she shrieked again. Her mane seemed to be unravelling. "My shop! Oh my shop! There are stains all over and I can't see them!"

"Please calm... down... miss..."

"You, can you come? I'll pay you. There are invisible stains on my floors!" she turned to Lumi and begged.

"There's no need!" shouted Canary. "Just calm down!"

Duriandal stopped.

"Just... calm down. Ok? Please." Canary lowered her tone cautiously, like lowering a lowered crossbow.

Bunch of whackjobs, she thought. Each and every one of them. Why couldn't she just have normal victims once in a while? Where were the days gone by where not everypony suffered from some odd strange quirk of behaviour?

"We... know how to clean them, alright? We have ponies for that. They'll go down soon, it's part of the service, and we'll get them to clean up everything, including the... invisible ones."

"Do you... do you promise?"

"Yes, promise. So just... please. Calm down. And before you ask no, they won't get on you if you touch it like this, so they're not going to get on you or spread around, alright?"

"Urrrrhhhhhh." Duriandal moaned, like a song with a single note.

"O...kay. How about we get you back to the cell with your friends? Would that make you feel better?"

"Urrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"Right then. Lumi? Thanks for the help. I'd love to catch up but as you can see I have my horn full. You can pick your fee up at admin, as usual."

"Lively bunch this time 'round, aren't they?"

"You have no idea."

"Uuuurrrrhhhhhh"

"Alright! Let's go, miss."

The nearly comatose pony was led out - carefully - from the room back to the cell. Canary felt it might be a bit more wise to bring her herself, considering she didn't seem to have use of her senses any longer. Maybe she should offer her some kind of paper bag or something. If anything, she could put it on her head and go sit in the corner and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.

"And I'm telling you that you're being a stupid face!" came a voice, shrill, bouncing off the corridor and hastening Canary's step.

"Please, do go on," retorted Blitz Breeze, her hair shifting as she placed her weight on her front legs. "Tell me how my face is stupid."

"It's just stupid," replied Flare.

"Brilliant. Such wit," snorted Blitz. "At least I know how to behave myself and be polite."

"Yeah? Well at least I know how not to go dropping off ponies in night clubs when they clearly can't take it!"

"That again? Seriously?"

"Ladies!" said Canary, commanding the room to a halt. "Do we have a problem here?"

"No officer," said Blitz, backing up and stepping away from Flare.

"Yeah we got a problem," said Flare, under her breath.

"Holy..." said Blitz.

"Alright, relax, ladies. Finish your breakfast. I want to hear no more arguing or else some of you are going to have to sit alone in a very small place, alright? Here, I brought your friend back. Catch up," she ushered in Duriandal. "You three just stay quiet and on your best behaviour, and you'll be out of here in no time, alright?"

"Yes officer," said Blitz.

"Yeah yeah, whatever," muttered Flare, going to the corner and dropping down, head to herself.

Duriandal just went back to the same spot in the room where she had taken up squatter's rights the night before and lay in the same position.

"Shower's free if you need one, Miss Duriandal. Just let any one of my colleagues know if you want, alright?"

Holy manure buckets, that was a mess, thought Canary to herself as she returned to Berry. Her drive to solve this case was almost overtaken by this urge to get those three out of her station, as bad as that sounded. But she shook some sense back into her head as she grabbed a book off Berry's desk and swung it around to the other side so that she could read it.

"Oh, hey Sarge," said Berry nervously.

"At ease, Berry."

"Um... thanks, Sarge."

"Found anything so far?"

"Well... yes and no, really."

"Berry, if there's any one time I didn't need some sort of food-related elaboration, now would be it. Tell me straight."

"I found a lot of things, Sarge, but I don't understand most of it. There's a lot of stuff about the Wicked Stable, but all of them just talks about those five evil thingies... um... trespass, avarice, hypocrisy... that other one..."

"Hubris."

"Yeah, and prejudice. Um... It's just a lot of poems and warnings against doing them or else bad stuff will happen to you, but there's this one thing here that I found which is the part I don't understand."

Berry swung the book around, where a large diagram faced Canary on one page, and some old text met her on the other.

The diagram was crudely drawn, obviously by a pony who had no time to bother with intricate detail. It seemed more like a sketch in ink, and it did run here and there where the quill was freshly dipped. There was a large circle drawn out that took up the majority of the page in fading ink, and five smaller circles were drawn along the circumference. Each one of those circles was paired by another small circle, but those five remained alone. In the center of the diagram was drawn a symbol that Canary recognized well; it was a horseshoe drawn upside down. At the top of the page there was a curvy line that stuck out like an errant hair or a worm breaking through the soil.

There seemed to be writing on the inside of each circle as well, but that had long since faded away and was no longer recognizable. Parts were blotted out here and there and it all was very unclear at this point.

Berry poked her hoof at the drawing in question. "See, that, Sarge That's the thing."

"What am I looking at?"

"One of the old stories, Sarge, it had an extra bit at the bottom. It said something like... I'll find it later, but it said something like 'you who don't what obey shall be visited by the spirit of Ouros'."

"Ouros?"

"Yeah, Sarge. Oh-you-ar-oh-ess. It was the only one I came across that actually named something. So I went searching for that instead, and it said like... like... your soul will be consumed and your flesh will be sacrificed for the great work. It's all very dark stuff. Might have been some kind of weird cult, Sarge."

"Ancient cult, at least. Never heard of this Ouros fella before."

"I dunno, Sarge. There's a lot of ancient things in our past. Lots of weird characters and all. So this picture here," she tapped the book, "Seems to be this old thing on how it works. This Ouros fella found five victims, all of whom betrayed the Wicked Stable, and visited another five, which is symbolised by... something in this picture, I don't know what, actually, it isn't too specific. But it does say something about those who have managed to break free of the chain of eternal sin."

"Ok, this is a lot of information, here. Let's take it bit by bit, alright?"

"Sure, Sarge, I think I need to slow down a bit myself, really."

"Alright, so the Wicked Stable, this cult used to use it to target individuals in society, some sort of punishment thing. The cult of Ouros, right?"

"Yeah, I guess, Sarge."

"Well I've never heard of it before and... hey, hey! Silver!"

"Yeh, Boss?" came the reply from across the room.

"Ever heard of Ouros?"

"Heard'a what?"

"Nothing! Shut up!" Canary turned back to Berry. "So it's not very common knowledge, this cult thing."

"Guess not, Sarge."

"You said that they would take the lives of five, each of whom, I think we can agree, committed a different sin of the Stable, and then... you said, visited some others?"

"Yeah, let me get it for you, Sarge," Berry said, taking the huge tome back and flipping through some pages. "Here it is - Ouros appeareth bearing gifts to the worthy; the ones who haffeth... haffth done what broken out... Sarge, I can't really read this."

"Just paraphrase, Berry!"

"He visits the worthy, the ones who've broken out of the circle of eternal sin. Circle, not chain. I said wrongly earlier."

"Same difference, I think, Berry."

"The condemned and praised will both be signed... "

"I think it means that a sign will be left with them, Berry. Like that horseshoe print thing with the victims."

"Or maybe it means they've been marked down on some sort of huge tablet, Sarge, like a hit list."

"And where do you get that idea?"

"'Cuz it says here, the condemned and praised will both be signed upon the stone, which will seal their fates."

"Yeah, that makes more sense."

"And some bother about being careful and stuff."

"Let me see that picture again, Berry."

"Sure Sarge."

The pages flipped back.

"Now see... there's a ring connecting five circles, right? And each of those circles has a pair on the inside..."

"Right, Sarge."

"Now, what if the inner bunch of circles was the five victims? You have them all surrounded by the others and then you have that Wicked Stable nonsense in the middle..."

"Right, Sarge."

"And this outer ring maybe stands for these five 'worthy' ones?"

"Seems logical, Sarge."

"Who are connected in a circle..."

"What are you thinking, Sarge?"

"I don't know, but... suddenly all these coincidences lately are starting to make a bit more sense."

- - -

Her head was spinning. It had been spinning since Monday, but it seemed to increase with rage and force for as long as this whole thing went on, and right now she was sitting in the middle of a calamity of wind and rain that beat down upon the door of her defences and threatened to bring her crashing down upon herself.

The voices that came from the room were muffled, like as if she were listening through earmuffs but in this case it was her own legs wrapped securely around her green little head.

"Would you please sit down?" asked Blitz.

"No! They can't keep us in here! We have our rights! We're innocent and they just proved it so why are they still keeping us in here? We want out!" yelled Flare.

"Come on, Flare. Just calm down, alright?"

"No!"

Each word made Duriandal's head throb, it was hard to concentrate, it was hard to focus. She had always lived in a world where everything was neatly laid out in front of her in columns and rows, where everything was just so, and it just took this kind of chaos to throw everything out the window. She didn't know what went where anymore, and she couldn't sort it out as much as she would have loved to.

She needed to, really. She needed to take a break from this. She needed to settle it and get everything over with as quickly as possible. She needed to leave this cell.

Behind the two arguing figures, she went almost unnoticed as she crept to the bars and knocked it slightly with a unsteady hoof.

The bell rang out, bringing a guard back.

"Yes?" he asked, politely, as the other two kept chittering in the background.

"I... understand that... um... shower..." she muttered.

"Oh yeah, of course. Let me get you out of there," he unlocked the door, sliding it open.

"Hey! Hey!" Night Flare bounded to the opening. "You're letting us out?"

"Um... no, sorry," replied the guard. "Your friend here wants a shower."

"Yeah well so do I!"

"You just had one half an hour ago, ma'am."

"I have my rights!"

"Yeah..." said the guard, shutting and locking the door again, with Duriandal on the outside. "Nope."

"Oh come on!" whined Flare, as the guard helped Duriandal to a fresh towel and the way to the shower stalls. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"We have to stay here! What is so hard to understand about that?"

"I don't wanna stay here! What, you wanna stay here?"

"No!"

"Then join me! Let's break out of here together, come on!"

"For crying out loud, Flare, do you not know how to be responsible?"

"Yeah, this coming from the pony who left another pony in a nigh..."

She never managed to finish her sentence.

Her mouth hung open, shock freezing her entirely. Her head was tilted to the right, although she did not have any recollection of turning it herself, and slowly, a stinging pain came to her left cheek.

Blitz lowered her leg, with a gaze that could cut through the clouds she used to make her statues. It was her silent kind of fury that crept through the bushes and struck when you least expected it, albeit when you most deserved it.

"Uh... uh....." Flare started whining, her eyes filling up against her every wish, a few chokes making themselves heard as fluid went down the wrong pipe when she began to cry. It did not take long for it to erupt into a full bawl, the noises akin to a terrified cat escaping her throat.

"Wuh... why did you... hit me?" coughed Flare, her wings running all over her face, wiping away the moisture as she sniffed.

"What is troubling you so much?" said Blitz, in a calm, sedated voice. It was a genuine question, one that came out because the wise, matron side of Blitz was drawn forth.

"Wh... what do you mean?!" shot back Flare, blurting out her words over her distressed state. "You... you... can't see how wrong this...this is?

"What's wrong?"

"I... my life is ruined! Can't... can't you see? I... I... some sick pony dropped some other pony on me! I'm arrested for murder! We're all in trouble! I'm going to die here!"

"And?"

"And you... you just sit back like you're Princess Celestia and nothing is gonna go wrong! I'm..."

"What?"

"I'm scared, ok!?" Flare let loose another barrage of tears. "I'm scared! I'm scared... I'm scared..."

A shadow appeared above her; this pale figure with dead-set eyes and a steely conviction.

"Sit down, Night Flare."

Night Flare did as she was told, just doing it because it was the only thing she could do at the time.

"Listen. We're all scared. You may not think so, but we're all scared. We're all stuck in this thing that's happened, and let me tell you I don't want to be in here as much as you do. But there is no reason, no reason, for you to act like you are."

"I'm n...not..."

"Oh, please. The big and mighty Night Flare, right? All cool and distant? You think you're the only pony who can't admit things easily? Give me a break. What are you trying to prove? That you're on top of things? That you're not scared?"

Night Flare just sniffed.

"Yeah you act 'cool'. You think image gets you recognition, don't you? Not actions? What was it? Brother who always got the attention no matter how nice you were? School mate? Childhood friend?"

"Whatever," mumbled Night Flare, her cheeks burning red.

"Yeah, that's right. Don't think I don't know that you gave your blanket to Duri last night."

"Whatever."

"And I also know that you bring the leftover bread from your bakery to the local school. Anonymous donation every Wednesday and Friday, huh?"

"Wait, how do you know about that?!"

"Flare... everypony knows about that."

"Ah... I don't..."

"See, what everypony doesn't know is why you always want to hide it. Honestly, I don't care. I don't care if you want to pretend to be an uncaring little filly but you're really annoying the flank out of me, and you're seriously upsetting Duriandal. So just take it down a notch, alright? I don't know what happened when you were younger, but welcome to the real world. You'll find that we're actually a lot less shallow here."

Blitz left it at that, and turned, leaving Flare curled up on the ground, walking to the wall and leaning on it, occupied by her own thoughts.

"I'm sorry," said Flare.

Blitz turned her head slightly. "It's alright."

"But really, it gets you nowhere, does it?"

"What does?"

"Being nice. You see it everywhere. People act nice. They end up last. I just wanna not be last. I wanna be known. Be respected."

"That's fine, Flare, but you know? You still do nice things, don't you?"

"Yeah, so?"

"That's because you're a nice pony."

"Dude, c'mon," she began to blush again, glad that Blitz wasn't watching her, and that her coat was so dark.

"It's not a sin, Flare. It's a virtue. Maybe once you realise that, you'll be able to behave in a way where everypony and yourself can be happy."

"Look, whatever it is... I'm sorry, ok? I was acting like a jerk. I was just... I dunno."

"Yeah, don't explain. It's really not worth it. Just play nice."

"Yeah... alright. I will. But you owe me."

"For what?"

"For the smack in the face, man!" She rubbed her cheek jovially. "That really hurt, you know?"

Blitz smiled.

"Alright, I owe you. Anyway, let's see this through together, and then we can all forget about it and get back to life, alright?"

"Deal."

It was at that point when again, a guard appeared at the gates, clinking his keys and offering release.

"Ladies, Sergeant Canary would like to speak to you in the main floor. If you would both follow me please?"

Flare gave a worried glance to Blitz.

"It'll be alright, Flare. It'll be alright."

- - -

"Nice of you to join us," said Canary, as Blitz and Flare walked up. "We seem to be missing one..."

"She went for a shower, I believe," said Blitz.

"Alright. We'll fill her in later. In any case, I just want to start by saying that this is... very irregular."

"What about, officer?"

"We never... never include civilians in an investigation. Ever. I just got out of a meeting with my chief and we're going to make this exception just once."

Blitz and Flare didn't respond. They just stood and stared, not sure what to make of this information.

"Alright then. Uh... the reason for this is... well. Berry?"

Her assistant offered up the book with the drawing on it, hovering it in full view of the other two.

"We believe that... there is a pony, or a group of ponies out there, working under the guise of an old cult called the Circle of Ouros. What they do is... pick out five victims with shared backgrounds, and five... I don't know, 'chosen ones', all of whom are also linked in some way or another. We're not sure what the link is between victims yet, but we've managed to think our way through and figure out who the chosen ones are."

"Let me guess, officer," said Blitz.

"Yes, it's us. Miss Duriandal, Yourself, Miss Night Flare, Constable Berry and myself."

"How did you come to this conclusion, officer?"

"Because of the coincidences, Miss Blitz. There's just too many, and it just seems like they're obviously targeting the three of you. As for myself and my partner... we're the only other ones involved and that makes five. We figure that whoever's responsible for this has been planning very carefully, tracking us for weeks; maybe months. They've been watching our movements so carefully that they were able to engineer these so-called coincidences to this degree."

"But, officer. Duriandal was the one who invited me down here in the first place. I don't think that they'd have been able to predict that."

"That's true, but, we think that's why they left your cloud puffer thing at the second body. Eventually, we would have tracked you down anyway."

"Alright, so why... are we being included in this?"

"There's two reasons, Miss Blitz. First of all, and I'll just be honest here, we want to keep you close. Keep an eye on you. There won't be any better proof of your innocence than aiding us. The second reason is that all of you, and us included, has probably seen this guy before, or these bunch of people. They love leaving signs and they love leaving clues. This is something where a really good memory would come in use, and we... where is she, anyway?"

"I'll go get her, Sarge," said Berry, trotting off toward the shower stalls.

- - -

The drops of cool water felt good against her face and skin, as they trickled down and fell to the floor. She closed her eyes, finally free of the worry that plagued her all these past few days, finally able to gently nudge things into order.

It was good to be alone, even if she was just standing here at the edge of the docks.

She'd always liked this place. The mists that ran from the nearby waterfall beaded into a cooling spray that always gave her a sense of serenity. She came here often to think, and there wasn't any better time than now to reflect on all that had occurred.

- - -

"What do you mean she's gone?!" yelled Canary. "How could she have possibly escaped? Did she just walk out?"

- - -

Leaving the police station was easy. There were only eight police officers on the floor. A glance would have been enough; but she had been watching them for a good few hours now. She recognized all the patterns. When that one there in the corner always left for coffee every half an hour on the dot. How that other one was too busy with his filing to care about what was going on. The rest was all position and, with the right stops at certain places, one could simply stroll out as easy as day, as long as one was willing to backtrack a bit and weave around the desks and keep pretty low to the ground.

She had flagged a taxi down as soon as she left the station and brought herself to the docks, the same one which had that one in-operable station.

- - -

"What do you mean her things are gone?" screamed Canary. "How did this happen!?"

- - -

Of course, Duriandal had had the withal of mind to get her little purse back from the holding cage. She'd already seen them enter the code to the lock on the door once, earlier when they put the things in. The tricky part was turning the knobs with hooves. She even tidied up a bit while she was in there, and filed everything away.

And now she stood, here, at the edge of the cliff, looking down upon the forests below. She was determined, a slight fury building up, to find out who was doing this herself. She had enough of waiting in the by-lines, and it was time, she reckoned, to start moving things along at a pace that she was comfortable with.

A scroll, magically, appeared in front of her face. It came from nowhere, blinking into existence and catching her slightly off guard. It landed on the ground in front of her, and it was the kind of thing that you don't really want to touch at first because you don't know where it's been, and you don't know if it's really meant for you or not.

But curiosity got the better, and she unrolled it across the floor, eyes scanning each word carefully.

It was... fate. It had to be. There was no mistaking this sort of thing, and it was clear, extremely clear, where she had to be next.

- - -

"You know what, if she's the murderer, she's really good, Sarge," said Berry.

"I know! I can't believe... how did she even manage this?! We were standing right here! Did she have inside help?"

"Officer... I think I know why she left," offered Night Flare, in the meekest voice she ever gave thus far. "It... it was my fault."

"What did you do?"

"I think she didn't like my arguing..."

"There's no time for this. Either way, we need to find her. She's either suspect number one, or in a lot of danger. Listen, you know her best, right? Where would she go?"

"Uh... I... I don't know, Sergeant," said Blitz, truthfully. "She wouldn't go back to her store, I don't think, she wouldn't feel safe there. And I don't know any other place she'd really hang out. She wasn't the kind of travel out of her zone of comfort."

"No idea where she'd go?"

"I'm sorry, Sergeant."

- - -

The chariot was comfortable, and in fact, quite a lot nicer than she thought it would be. She had never taken one before, but there was always a first time for everything. The past few days had been infused with so many 'firsts' that this really wasn't much for her any longer. She was even a little proud.

It was a first step for a adventure, and one in which she would close these plaguing horrors on the by-line.

"Where to, miss?" said the Pegasus driver.

She looked down at the scroll again to make sure.

"Ponyville, please," she said.

"Take me to Ponyville."

The One Who Eats the Tail Pt 5

When the wind blew, the air felt still. That was just something that happened when you're travelling high up in the air, flying at a steady pace. You could feel the wind when it was still, and during the times that it travelled with you, it felt strangely serene.

It was something that Duriandal had noticed, sitting in the back of the cart.

She kept to the center of the bench - the padded one that had been crafted for the comfort of the passengers - to ensure that her fervour didn't take her off the side of the un-barred wagon and send her far more quickly to her destination than she would have preferred. But even there, flank stuck securely on the seat, hooves wrapped around the edge for extra stability, she could take it all in, and simply enjoy it while it lasted.

Not a time before now had she ever thought for a second that this is what she would be doing on a Wednesday mid-morning. Why, split-second resolutions of impromptu travel was clearly a Saturday thing! But amidst the clouds in the sky and the clouds in her head, she just found herself doing something that she had never considered doing before.

Not caring.

Well, to be fair, she did. She did in grievous amounts. In amounts enough to hurt her and cause her to count, Celestia forbid. But these past few days seemed to have hit a big old reset button deep inside her somewhere, and the time was right for her to set forth into the great unknown, even if the great unknown was a small town about ten minutes flight away.

The rush of it all covered up the nagging voice at the back of her skull that told her not to do things, not to go places, and not to deviate from the path well worn. And with the sight of clouds and sky and land unfolding before her like a living painting, she found less reason to listen to that voice.

Her hair waved in the rushing torrent, and just almost for that moment her heart fluttered, worried that she should have brought some of her hair gel with her. But she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and let the thought slip away with the winds of change.

"Everythin' ok back there?" asked the driver, a heavy-set Pegasus Stallion who looked like he had a lot of extra time but spent none of it on personal grooming. But as it usually was, you really couldn't judge on image alone, and he was friendly enough to engage his passenger with casual conversation, insomuch as taxi drivers usually try to.

As if to even further disrupt the natural order of things, his passenger engaged back.

"Yes!" Duriandal shouted above the whipping air. "Thank you, it is... really... quite amazing!"

She figured the word 'amazing' would be useful here. She tended to think of things either as 'good' or 'not so good' or 'get it away from me', but as Blitz taught her just the other day, variety shows authenticity.

"First time flyin', eh?"

"Yes, yes it is!" she nodded, although she knew that the driver couldn't see her do so. "It is my first time out of Canterlot!"

"Well, that's great. Chose a good place to go visitin', too! Ponyville's nice this time'a year. You gotcha apples, gotcha festivals, always havin' a party, that place."

"That sounds... outstanding!"

"Yeah but, hey, bein' from Canterlot, betcha got yer fill of parties already, eh? City never sleeps, just like Manehattan, but, y'know. Literally!"

"Oh... ah... yes, you would be right, there are many parties to be had in Canterlot, for sure, and I have been accountable at quite... quite a number of them!" she embellished. "But... ah... I suppose it would be great fun to... experience some in such a... a.... wonderful place like Ponyville!"

"Hah, that's great. You're pretty alright for a Canterlot Pony, eh?"

"Ah... what... what do you mean?" Duri brushed a stray lock of hair from her face that started to droop down instead of up, which was much more difficult than it sounded. The ground swirled underneath them, as the white cliffs of Canterlot drove further and further away behind them and they caught up with the green beneath.

"Well, you know," the driver said, casually. "Them's always the more... fashionable type, yeah? All dolled up, never goin' to Ponyville. But look at'cha! You're not dressed up, you're visiting Ponyville on your first time out, not even afraid to let your hair loose!"

Duriandal swallowed hard.

"You seem pretty alright by my book! Always gotta try new things, yeah?"

"Yea...ah...!" stammered Duriandal, frantically holding down her mane flat upon her crown.

"So, ya got your visit worked out? Or are ya taking it free and easy?"

"Oh, ah... I am... ah... I don't..."

"You know anythin' about the place you're going ta?"

"Ah... yes, there is... a library."

"Hah!" guffawed the driver. "It's alright! I get it. I get it."

"What? What?" stammered Duriandal, as she tried to beat her hair into place without it having much progress.

"Taking one of those kinds of trips, eh? Runnin' away? Tired of the city life? Can't say I blame ya!"

"Oh... ah... yes. You have me... figured out."

"Tell ya what though, lady, none of my business, but you ain't gonna find a better place to be than Ponyville. Ever hear of Sweet Apple Acres? The Sweet Apple Acres? They're there! Right there in Ponyville. And they might be small but they have a lot of comforts, y'know?"

"I... knooow!" agreed Duriandal. It was probably safest.

"A lot of my customers rave about the ponies there, I tell ya what. They're all really nice and friendly, too. You're going to have a great time. I hear there's even one'a them Middle-World type Spas there, ya know, and uh... ya know... buncha stuff!"

"That sounds really... great!"

"Well, tell ya what, we're nearly there, so let me know, where can I set ya down?"

"The library, please!"

"Library? Really?"

"Yes I'm meeting somepony there!"

Right after I fix my hair first, thought Duriandal.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"I want to know how this happened!"

"Sarge, calm down, Sarge! Please!"

"Don't you tell me to calm down you... you... malignant git!"

"Sarge!"

The sight of Canary angry was already something to give most ponies concern. Even Staff Sergeant Beat kept out of her way, firm in the knowledge that at least she'd never hurt anypony, and especially not him if he didn't come out of his room. But anger has layers, and this layer of anger was a raw vein of molten fury that now erupted from her ears and splashed about the floor, leaving tight puddles of ire oil here and there for people to slip in.

Berry sort of knew, by this point, how to hoof-tip around these puddles, but really. This was getting out of control, by Jove.

"You call me Sarge one more time and I'll take your helmet and make your bowels shine for a week!"

"Sergeant Canary, sir! We've found nothing else missing from the evidence locker other than her purse and certain contents of Miss Flare's bag!" came another officer, rushing up fervently.

"What?! What did she take?!" cried Night Flare.

"Ah... a half-bit coin."

"Wait... a half-bit? One half-bit?" cut in Canary.

"Yes, sir!"

"Oh for... SILVER!"

"Boss?" She zoomed over.

"What did you say earlier about the coin?!"

"This one, Boss?" Silver took out a shiny silver coin and held it up.

"Where'd you get it, again?"

"Jus' about ten mins' ago, mebbie, Boss! I was at m'post, an' then I hears this coin drop right? So I turns around t' pick it up, an..."

"She returned the coin. She didn't even take it with her," said Blitz Breeze, adding to an otherwise unstable pot of conversation. Clearly, she was quite impressed, albeit at the wrong thing. "This was some plan."

"Yes, thank you. Silver, that half-bit belongs to Flare. Give it back or I hit you repeatedly, and I know you're going to say that you found it and therefore it's yours which is why I'm going to hit you if you don't just give it back."

Silver just hovered there and stared blankly, her mouth slightly open, coin resting on an upturned hoof. Very slowly, she extended the coin back to Flare's posession.

"Now leave me before I eat your children!"

"Sarge, I don't think Silver has any chi..." said Berry.

"I'LL EAT YOURS TOO!"

"Sarge! For Celestia's sake! Keep it together! Please! I'm beggin' you!" pleaded Berry.

"Are you scared?" whispered Flare to Blitz.

"Little bit, yes."

"I HEARD THAT!"

"Oh my Colt, RUN!" screamed Flare, backing up and tripping over herself.

"Someone get the mace!" a third voice yelled from somewhere else in the station.

"Sarge, why are you so angry?!" Berry whined again, nearly at the brink of breaking down herself.

"Because she's gonna get killed!"

And there it came, bursting forth from her like a balloon popping in the darkened room of a surprise party. It gives everyone a bit of a shock, but then everyone realises there wasn't anything to be concerned about - even the pony holding the balloon.

"She's gonna get killed," repeated Canary, in a normal speaking voice this time.

"Canary?" said Blitz, the first of the lot to use her proper name.

"Yeah?"

"I think that means you also feel that she's one of the good ones, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"So really, you're not angry about her escaping, per se. You're just concerned, aren't you?"

"What are you, my mother?"

"No, but it doesn't really take a mother to know where your heart is."

"Oh for Colt's sake, would you... just... stop with that fluffy manure and..."

"There isn't anything wrong with showing concern, Sergeant. But you don't have to express it so... violently."

"Are you trying to insinuate something?"

"Listen, Canary. Like you said, we're all in this now. So let's work together, not as police and outside hires, not as victims of a horrible crime, and not even as friends. But let's just work together because we all have a goal in common. Someone as realistic as you ought to appreciate that."

Canary grit her teeth. Her nail had been hammered.

"And really, all this running around and deflection isn't getting us closer to anywhere." said Blitz, facts cutting through Canary like a ceramic knife.

"Ju... Shut up, Berry!"

"I... didn't say anything, Sarge," cried Berry.

"Listen," Blitz continued. "You can tell me to shut up if you want to. I know you want to. Come on. It'll make you feel better."

She smiled at her, a little cocky smile, a smile that said that she knew what she was doing and she was right, and the annoying thing was, she actually did know what she was doing and she was right. And that stupid grin plastered all over her face... boy, it made Canary just want to...

"Sh... shut... up... Blitz," murmured Canary, through clenched teeth and a sweaty brow.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" beamed Blitz.

"SHUT UP! Alright. Fine. We're in it together. I hate to agree, because I hate to agree with anything, but you're right. So let's focus. Are we all in?"

Canary offered the first hoof out to the center of the quad. Almost immediately, as if drawn by a magnet, Berry's hoof bumped against it.

"Always here for you, Sarge!"

"Of course, I'm in as well," said Blitz, serenely, adding her hoof to the pile.

All three of them turned to look down at Flare, who still remained fallen over, head under one of the desks.

"Yeah, she's in as well," said Blitz.

"First order of business," said Canary, as Flare crawled dizzily out from under the desk. "We have a member who disappeared from us. From the entire station. I would love to know how she did it but I don't think that matters."

"She just left, Canary," explained Blitz. "It's really easy as that. I've been with her for a while and... believe me, I think she's capable. I don't know why I think that, but I do. She's got this crazy brain that works in ways that I can't even begin to comprehend, and I wouldn't put it past her to just want to do it enough to actually be able to."

"So how does this help us locate her?"

"Well, I don't think we can. Honestly, if she doesn't want to be found, I don't think any one of us could track her. But the good thing is, here's hoping that this cult can't track her either."

"Besides, Sarge, she's one of the five, remember? You said earlier," added Berry. "We're not targets, we're... uh..."

"Patrons."

"Yeah, and she'll be ok, I think."

"That's a shoddy assumption at best," Canary stamped on the ground with a clunk. "We're working off a billion-year-old weather forecast that even the Pegasus Teams don't know about. It's like Everfree weather. We should assume that she is in danger. Besides, hadn't that fella you keep seeing met her twice?"

"Well that's true," thought Blitz. "But to be fair, the first time was when we were both in her house, and the murderer obviously knew where her house was. The second time... I don't know about because I wasn't there, but she said he was just flying overhead."

"Um..." squeaked Flare.

"Got something to add, girl?" Canary narrowed her eyes at her.

"Um... yeah... I'm sorry about the trouble I caused earlier..." the dark-coated pony rubbed her hoof on the ground.

"Is this the same pony as just now?"

"We had a talk," explained Blitz.

"Huh. Alright. Was that all, little missy?"

"No..." continued Flare. "Um... I think when the murderer was... going to... drop... drop..."

"Come on, it's ok," comforted the cloud-haired matron of the group.

"Drop the body on me... and... I know this place well because I fly sometimes... the bar, Le Pouze? It's between Spiffington Estates and the Park in a straight line. Maybe she wasn't meant to see him, but she did because she's crazy and can see everything?"

"Yeah... maybe. She didn't say he went to bother her, right? Not like the first time. Just maybe," considered Canary. "So... she's just gone? And that's that?"

"For now, at least," said Blitz. "Should we think of other things?"

"Well Sarge, I've been thinking, and I reckon the evidence is a bit weird," offered Berry. "You know how from the start we keep finding out things, but the next set of things just keep sort of undoing what we figured out from the start?"

"Yeah?"

"It's like a bean in soup, Sarge."

"I think I see what you mean," said Blitz.

"Yeah, that makes sense," added Flare.

"... Am I missing something here?" exclaimed Canary. "What, is there a food-based language that I didn't learn in school?"

"Uh... it's like you have soup, Sarge. You're eating it, and it's really good, but sometimes you get a bean that fell in by mistake. It's not part of the soup, and it looks like the soup, and it feels like it belongs, but once you bite into it you get this horrible overpowering flavour of bean."

"So you're saying one of these pieces of evidence is a bean?"

"I thought that was... pretty clear the first time she said it," said Blitz.

Flare nodded in like.

"What the f..."

"So... I was thinking, if one of these pieces of evidence didn't belong, what then, Sarge?"

"Well, what are we looking at here?"

"Well, I'd need to confirm a few things first... but... the first crime scene had something to do with Miss Duriandal's shop, right? It was at her shop and was dropped off at the docks with the symbol of the Wicked Stable," Berry ran through.

"What's the significance of the docks?"

"Duriandal mentioned to me she always went there once in a while to stare at Cloudsdale," said Blitz, recalling one of their off-topic chats on the second day.

"So everything's sort of tied to Duriandal, for the first case," said Berry. "And then the second one, we have the house, and the park."

"What's the link?"

"I... I hate to make it sound like I'm involved in so much, but... I also know this," said Blitz.

"Do tell?"

"I've done statues for Spiffington and the park as well. Commission based. Just general decorations... Pillars and stuff. But they weren't the only places, for sure. My stuff goes everywhere."

"But the two locations, you have worked on before. And we also found one of your cloud things at the scene, too."

"Yes... that, and pieces that I've done specifically for Spiffington and the park... had to be restored due to vandalism," Blitz sighed.

"So... following that the criminals are targeting ponies who have committed some kind of sin, it wouldn't be too much to think... we've found the vandal," reasoned Canary.

"How... would they have known, anyway?"

"I don't know, do you keep a record of your sales or anything?"

"Yeah of course I do but... oh... oh," the look on Blitz froze into one of epiphany, but not of the good kind. "For crying out loud... when I left Duriandal just the other night it was to close my shop up because some pony had got in previously and left a cloud in my workshop. It ruined a bunch of things and my papers went everywhere. My ledger was open, I think I remember now."

"That's creepy!" said Berry.

"Yeah... yeah it is," intoned Blitz, still in that single calm voice. "I... can't believe they were in my home... right in my home."

"Everything from the second crime seems to point a finger at you, Blitz," said Canary. "But the body was dropped on Flare."

"I think that's where the bean comes in, Sarge," said Berry.

"I'm a bean?" asked Flare.

"No, I mean... like... everything's shifted. I have been having this strange feeling that this case isn't a normal case, Sarge."

"No manure, Hemlock."

"Well... I mean... The second murder points everything at Blitz, right? But... she was already involved back then, back during the first murder, where everything points to Duriandal."

"Go on?"

"Why would they make so much trouble to point a finger at Blitz when she was already involved?"

"Because... she wasn't supposed to be involved this early," Canary said slowly, trying to figure out how she enjoyed the taste of this particularly odd legume.

"And that's the bean, Sarge. I was thinking back at the very first day, if you remember, Sarge, Duriandal said that somepony had visited her and asked about the victim, right?"

"Yeah, that Twilight snot. What about her?"

"She's innocent, right?"

"I think so, yeah."

"But up until now... there really wasn't any purpose for her to be around. I was wondering where she fit in, but all it did was make us look her up."

"Well... that is true. Nothing about this case seems to say that either her or Princess Celestia is involved."

"What if she wasn't actually Twilight?"

"She wasn't, I thought we figured that out already. It was the murderer in disguise."

"What if it wasn't the murderer, Sarge?"

"Wait. Say that again?"

"What if she was somepony else... who was chucking a banana into the gears?"

"Wrench, Berry. You chuck a wrench in the gears... and where did you get this idea from anyway?"

"I was reading that book again, right? The one with the circles and the diagrams and stuff? And I figured, well, we assumed that this is all based on some kind of thing that happened long ago, right? But what if it's more than that? I mean, it's possible, right, Sarge?"

"What kind of 'more' are we talking about here?"

"Well... everything's really planned out so perfectly. This cult of Ouros? They know their stuff, and they know how to get around, and they know all of us and all of the victims, right?"

"Chilling thought, but yes. Let's go with that."

"And if anything, it seems like they're really following the cult's orders like a script, Sarge. They want to keep everything perfect."

"And you think that rather than somepony following this old legend, they really are the same ponies as in the legend?"

"Yeah, it seems like there's some weird old magic going on, Sarge. You know, the ancient kind."

"So everything is supposed to happen in order, according to the diagram."

"In a circle. It is like... the book talks about fate a lot, so I figure, maybe somepony's trying to mess with it. Maybe we're not even supposed to know as much as we are now, but... if you take out Twilight's appearance at the shop, I can't help but think that maybe things would be more according to plan."

"So someone else is trying to interfere in the business of the cult?"

"Maybe, Sarge. I dunno."

"You do realise, Berry, that there's absolutely no way to prove this whatsoever."

"Yeah there is, Sarge!"

"There is?"

"Yeah Sarge. Somepony once said to me that the key to understanding the present..."

"... can be found in the past..."

"Yeah, Sarge!" Berry beamed. She smiled like a child who had solved her first difficult math problem. She was happy to just be there, but she was even more happy to have made such an impact.

"I think I know what I need to do next," said Canary.

"I know you do, Sarge," said Berry, proudly.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The first thing that she did was take a deep, long whiff. The air here smelt different -it was fresher; more luxuriant. There were fewer things in the way, and each specific smell hit her as clear as if they were holding up signs.

There wasn't the tinge of musk and dirt that hung in the air like in Canterlot. There wasn't the business and the strife. Even though Canterlot was a lush, green place, there were still some parts of the city where things were simply muddled thanks to life as it was there.

Over here... the lilacs were in bloom, the wind carried the faint smell of pastries from over the way, and spiced honey hung about like a well-invited guest. It very much fell into the 'good' category of Duriandal's simple judgement system.

Even the air itself... the air had a sort of scent to it. Already the complex formulas required to create that specific smell were working themselves out in her head... but... there was something missing. Just one... unique smell that she had never smelt before, and what manner of item it could be was simply undecipherable. Was it organic? Mineral? Flora or fauna? What... was that?

The door to the library in front of her burst open, the whole wooden face swinging wide, as a very annoyed looking baby dragon stepped out, growling lowly to himself about some sort of Dashing Rainbow and some sort of Prank.

"Wet dragon!" Duriandal exclaimed, solving that mystery.

"... Yeah, never seen one before?" the little baby retorted, narrowing his eyes at Duriandal, droplets gathering off his snout and raining to the path. "Say... I've never seen you around Ponyville before..."

"Oh! I am... ah... I am sorry," stammered Duriandal, catching her sensibilities. "I am... visiting. From Canterlot."

"Canterlot, huh?" Spike said, shaking himself dry. Bits of water flew in Duriandal's direction, at which she stepped back instinctively.

"Ah... yes. I have... received a letter?"

The scroll was actually tied roughly around her little bit purse that hung around her neck. Without saddlebags, it was the most she could do under the circumstances.

"Oh no, that better not be what I think it is!" Spike pulled the letter from the string, opening it up and reading it.

"To... to whom it may concern," dictated Duriandal. "If this letter has reached you then I know my spell has worked. I have sent this letter to you, specifically, the closest one involved in the recent string of malicious murders that have been taking place in Canterlot. I believe we can work together to solve this mystery, for I may have information that you require. Please meet me at the Library in Ponyville at your most opportune moment."

"Uh..." said Spike, holding the letter in front of him, and suddenly wondering if he was holding it backward.

"And the... the letter was not signed... but this is the library of Ponyville, yes?"

"Yes it is, but..."

"Then you must be the one I am to meet with!"

"Not exactly..."

"Oh, a dragon! It is... most fortuitous that it is one as yourself," Duriandal felt a rising heat in her belly from all the excitement. It was almost too much. "Surely you have some arcane spells that will benefit the investigation tremendously, would you not?"

"I'm not..."

"Spike? Who is that?" a head poked out from behind the open doorway. A purple head.

One that Duriandal recognized almost instantly.

"You!" she said, all the excitement swirling out of her like water down a drain.

"Me?" said Twilight Sparkle.

"You're the one who... who... in my shop... you started... all of this! It was you!"

"Wait, who are you, again?"

Spike held the letter up like a flag, waving it around in his indignation of all these proceedings that were going on without his personal approval.

"Oh! You... you got the letter?" asked Twilight, a smile of her own coming to her face.

"Youuuuu!" pointed Duriandal at Twilight with an accusing hoof. Her breathing started to rag, as her focus intensified to a pinpoint over Twilight's face; everything else slowly blacking out.

"Whoa there!" Spike said. "Twilight, I think we're losing her!"

"Hey, take it easy!" exclaimed Twilight, rushing out of the house to see if there was anything that needed to be done.

Duriandal swallowed, but nothing went down. A desert had encroached upon her tongue and panic had caused most of her other bodily functions to seize up.

And the last thing she saw was that purple face, the one she was convinced was the start of all of this, as the light finally left and she dipped into the shallow dark.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Alright, you'll hold the fort while I'm gone?"

"Yeah, of course Sarge! You can count on me!"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I'll be back by tonight, latest. Depends on schedules and all that other manure. You make sure that everything goes smoothly, and keep working the case with the others, alright?"

"You got it, Sarge."

"And... if... anything..."

"Yeah Sarge, I'll wait for you if there's another victim."

"No, Berry. I... I want you to take it, alright? If I'm not around, you go ahead and run point."

"Really, Sarge?" Berry's eyes lit up brighter than her helmet.

"Yeah, but. But you better do it by the book and do it right, and take care of yourself, and take care of the others, alright?"

"By the book, Sarge," nodded Berry.

"Alright then, I'm off."

Canary stepped into the cart and strapped herself in. "Silver will return after she drops me off! I'll signal for her when I need a ride back!"

"You got it, Sarge!"

"And... and take care of yourself, alright?" repeated Canary.

"I will, Sarge! Promise!"

"Ehhh," Canary shook her head and grumbled to herself, facing toward her destination. "Whatever."

Berry's eyes followed the cart as it lifted up and took off toward the distance, watching her mentor leave the scene. A bit of pain filled her, a sort of squeezy feeling in her throat. But she turned, ever wondering what it was, as she walked back into the station.

Every new step took her further away from Canary, it seemed. This case was tearing them apart. It was so... so wrong to her, so unheard of. She was very excited to be in charge, of course, but at what cost? The team... the team was Berry and Canary. Always. And now once again she was alone. She didn't like this case. She really didn't.

But she had a job to do; the job that she tried so hard to get into. Struggling through academy, and flying in the face of conventional wisdom...

But she didn't really know anymore. Did she join for the job, or for...

Her mind went back to that day. A very specific day that changed everything that was about her.

But that day... was a memory now, for her, but not for Canary. Right now, memories served little in the face of what was more important, and with renewed vigour, she stormed into the presence of Blitz and Flare, who were waiting patiently for further news.

"Everything alright, Berry?" asked Blitz.

"Yeah, you look a little shaken," agreed Flare.

"Oh, oh, I'm fine! I'm fine!" Berry waved it off. "I.... ahahaha... jitters, you know. Tricky case... tricky."

"You... do seem to perform better when your boss is around," observed Blitz.

"No no, of course not. We're all professionals here. Ahhahaha... hah..ahah.."

"Alright, so... while Canary is off doing her thing, what about us? How can we help?"

"Well, we're to... ah... 'hold the fort', as it were. But more importantly, we should see if we can figure out who's the next target based on this... the Wicked Stable thing, yeah?"

"Yeah, that's a good place to start."

"And also, we ought to see if we can't think of where Duriandal might have gone."

"I... have no idea what might have persuaded her to take off like that. I mean... even despite what happened earlier," Blitz shot a forgiving glance at Flare. "It seems so unlike her. Granted, I haven't really known her for a long time, but... well. I know ponies."

"Well... what... do you figure she'd do right now?" asked Flare.

"She... she's very... troubled," Blitz scratched her head. "Things... are out of order. It's about order. Ever since this all happened it's been hard for her to keep things in order. She left pretty quickly, too. Didn't stop to say goodbye. She didn't want to be found, but I really don't think she'd just run away from it."

"She did show interest in helping earlier, even before Canary got the OK," said Berry.

"You don't think she's trying to like... solve this herself, do you?" approached Flare.

"She might. Too many things in her head and she can't concentrate, she told me once. Maybe she just went somewhere to sort things out."

"But that could be anywhere!" Flare grabbed at the air in frustration.

"The docks."

"The docks?" asked Berry.

"Yes. She'd be at the docks. Her little thoughtful spot. If anywhere, that'd be a good place to start."

"Well, that's a great start!" smiled Berry. "Ok, we'll keep that in mind, and then... ah... when Canary gets back we can try to find her."

"Very well, and then next...?"

"Next is... well, we really have no idea how these guys are targeting ponies, honestly, but... um..."

"Aw man, do we have to do this?" complained Flare.

"Come on, Flare, don't act up again," chided Blitz, her head tilting disapprovingly.

"No, no, I mean... argh," cried Flare frustratedly. "I'm... I'm next, aren't I? I don't wanna be thinking about it!"

"We... we don't know that," said Berry. "It could be me, it could be Canary."

"No no, it's me, I know it. I know it. Do you have any idea how stressful this is? I mean, you're basically asking me, 'Hey, Flare, if it wouldn't be too much of a problem, could you kindly tell us maybe which one of the ponies you know are going to be horribly murdered and dropped on somepony else'?"

"There's no evidence to suggest that they will dispose of the third body in the same way that they did for the second one..."

"That's not the point is it?! Argh!"

Flare flopped down on the desk in front of her, legs splayed out, letting her body slide slowly to the floor.

"There, there," said Blitz.

"Um... well... ah... I mean... if you could identify potentials... maybe we can narrow it down?" offered Berry.

"Yeah, I know tons of ponies, and... I don't... know!"

"Um... how many of those in Canterlot?" asked Berry, thinking about it a little.

"Should they be, though?" Blitz said.

"Well... I figure... um... thing is... there's a lot of choices in Cloudsdale, right? But yet... they still specifically targeted ponies from here, even though they went through the trouble to check you out.... So I guess there's a better chance that their next target will be someone who at least lives here."

"And what about you?" asked Flare. "What about, you know, targets of you and the Sergeant?"

"Well, we know very few ponies outside the police station," said Berry, slowly, lowering her voice. "My family and friends don't live here in Canterlot, and neither does Canary's. Most of the ponies we know... are standing in this room. We did consider the fact that the next few victims might be one of our... associates, but we didn't want to alarm anypony yet, so we're kinda keeping it quiet. Would appreciate if..."

"Of course," affirmed Blitz, under hushed tones.

"Everypony's been confined for the next few days under orders... we're even grounding Silver for a while. She's not gonna like that, but there's nothing else we can do."

"Well, there's also that business about those sins, right?"

"Yes, there is. Since this cult seems to be targeting ponies they deem sinful... maybe we can sort of figure out where they're going based on that, then?"

"So, ponies I know who live in Canterlot who've committed some sort of crime. That's a real big help there, you know? You've just narrowed down everypony I know to nearly everypony I know," Flare shot out, her sass returning.

"No, it's not just crimes, it's specific crimes," said Berry, pulling the book out again. "Look here..."

Flare pulled herself up to table-height and scanned the contents of the book, almost too quickly for anyone to believe she really bothered.

"What's all this moon-speak? I don't understand what these words are!"

"It's... regular words," said Berry. Even she understood most of it. What was this girl about? "Um... just... well it's those five there which are the important bits."

"What's 'hubris'? Is that even a word?"

Alright, I'll let her have that one, thought Berry.

"It means... um... ah..."

"Arrogance," said Blitz. "Haughtiness. Pride. Pretension. Condescension."

Both Berry and Flare turned to stare at her.

"I... do crosswords," explained the fluffy-haired puzzle lover.

"What's... what's trespass?"

"Well, you know those signs which say no trespassing or else we'll shoot you with an arrow?"

"Yeah, alright... uh... prejudice... that's like... hate without reason, right?"

"That's one way of saying it, sure," asserted Blitz.

"And ok... hypocrisy, that's... alright... and what's 'avarice'?"

"Greed. Especially for money."

"Why can't they just say 'greed'? Why must they go use all these big-flank words, anyway?" grumbled Flare.

"I think they want to sound important and mysterious," shrugged Berry. "Also this was pretty long ago. I think they just talked like that back then."

"Well they're stupid," declared Flare. "If they wanted to talk about greedy stupid ponies they should just say, greedy stupid... ponies..."

Flare's words trailed off into utterances as her eyes flickered, the faint signs of recognition appearing; slowly at first but then with prominence.

The other two tilted their heads at her in curiosity.

"Oh, no no no," murmured Flare. "No no no."

"Who is it, Flare?" asked Blitz, gently.

Flare made a 'tsk' noise, as if she were shamed to remember. "I know this one guy. Young colt. Used to work with the bakery. He was the Sous-chef, actually. Really, really talented, honestly. He moved to Canterlot after a falling out with the head baker."

"What's the link?" asked Berry.

"It's... it's that stupid greed thing! You idiots got me thinking, and... and... the argument? It was about, like... money. Bits. Thousands of bits. I remember the day. He left the bakery because he wanted to branch out, you know? Spread the bread, he said. Make tons of dough."

"Er... no pun intended," added Flare, as an afterthought.

"But the boss, he didn't wanna. He wanted, as he always did, to just make bread for ponies. You know, just to make 'em happy. I really respected that, I dunno. It wasn't about the money, he said. It was about the craft, and the fun, and he never minded me taking the old bread away, even."

"So when that flank-face asked me to go with him... I said no. I didn't wanna leave Cloudsdale anyway, and he was gonna shuffle off to Canterlot for the 'bigger market' or whatever."

"Doesn't sound like you like him very much," noted Blitz.

"Nah, I don't. Which is kinda what makes me a bit worried," said Flare dourly. "I have no idea where he is now or if he even was successful here or not, 'cause we all kinda wrote him off the day he left. But if it helps... the last place he said he'd go was Canterlot, and he stole all the recipes and techniques and stuff he learnt just to make a couple more bits."

"That'd fit the M.O.," said Berry.

"No kiddin'?" huffed Flare.

"Well, until Canary comes back, we're going to see if we can't do something," thought Berry out loud. There was, in reality, very little to go on. The truth was that there was seriously no way to tell who the next victim was going to be, but Berry'd be damned if she was just going to sit there and do nothing. They'd pretty much exhausted all other avenues of discussion already, and Canary was already working on that as fast as she could.

Best thing to do then, would be to just keep busy.

"Alright, did he have a name? We'll pull up some directories and start looking at local business listings. Maybe by some small chance we'll be able to find this pony of yours."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Are you sure this is going to work, Twilight?" asked Spike, carefully pulling the bottle out from the drawer. It was a tiny little thing, about the size of a bottle of nail varnish, but far more sinister-looking. With frosted green glass, the thick rubber stopper and ribbed surface, everything about the bottle warned its holder against opening it without dire warning.

The other clue to its contents would be the clothes peg that Spike had wisely decided to clamp around his nose, and a carefully writ label upon the bottle that read 'Spirite of Hartshorne' in cursive.

"I mean, isn't this stuff poisonous or something?"

"Yes, but Zecora was pretty clear on its use! She told me, only for emergencies, and this is a pretty big emergency, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah but how would, you know, poisoning an unconscious pony help?"

"We're not feeding it to her, Spike! She's only going to smell it!"

"I dunno, Twilight, I've never heard about smells that can wake up a pony."

"It's not the smell itself, Spike," Twilight explained. "Zecora told me it was about some sort of chemical inside it... or something. But she did say it smelt pretty foul."

"I see you're not too concerned," Spike noted Twilight's lack of a peg herself.

"Oh, how bad could it be? Anyway, let's bring it to her. Come on, Spike!"

Holding it out at arm's length, by the very tip of it, like he was carrying a bag of vomit, Spike inched it out of Twilight's bed-nook and brought it downstairs, to the main floor of the library.

On a couch that had been hastily constructed out of a few dozen pillows and not much else, Duriandal lay, solidly unconscious. It was the stress, all the rush, the beating of the heart and the roller-coaster of different emotions that had overloaded the poor girl, and no matter what she thought or how exciting she told herself it was, her body had just decided to take a short break for a moment.

If that meant leaving her blanked out on the floor, then that was just a side effect of the natural preservation of more important things.

Of course, importance was relative, and it was quite lucky that she happened to collapse on the doorstep of a pony who wouldn't otherwise do something more nasty than attempt to use previously-untested medicines on her.

Nasty was relative, too.

Her breathing was shallow, but she had the look of such serenity and peace upon her face that it almost seemed a shame to drag her out of it. Spike had mentioned that it might be better to let her sleep, but no, Twilight said, there's important crimes to solve and things to do, and this couldn't wait. Besides, she had gone down thinking that Twilight was actually somehow involved and believe you me Twilight'd be having none of that.

"Over here, Spike!" she said cheerfully, rolling Duriandal onto her back. Her legs flopped in the air, like Winona did whenever Applejack scratched her stomach. "Alright, so... all we have to do is open the bottle and..."

Gingerly, and from a great distance, Spike prised the stopper from the bottle, wisely deciding not to get too close to the sleeping pony just in case. A foul stench erupted from within, diffusing throughout the room and creeping across the air toward Twilight and her guest.

"Ugh, oh, man! The peg, it does nothing!" yelled Spike.

"It's not that bad, Spike," said Twilight, just as the odour caught up with her. "In fact, I can't really smell anythi... augh! What is that?!"

"It's in my mouth, Twilight! It's like rotten eggs and socks!"

"Cap it back! Cap it back!" flustered the Unicorn, starting to run in a circle.

"It's like Rainbow Dash after a week in an oven!"

"Ugh!" Twilight rushed past, snatching the bottle out of Spike's hands and floating it to the nearest window, where it was thrown with as much magic as she possibly could toward the distant forest.

"Twilight, that was terrible!"

"I know! Ok? I know! I'm sorry, I had no idea it was that strong!"

"Well, looks like it's working though, look!" Spike pointed at the pillow pile, which had begun to move, tiny movements coming from it like a hatching egg.

"Wow, Zecora said we'd have to hold the bottle under the nose of the fainted pony," said Twilight. "Maybe she made it extra strong, or something?"

They both, peg still secure over Spike, and Twilight holding a rag to her face, approached the sleeping form of Duriandal, as she twitched more and more, her eyelids fluttering and her ears flicking. Calmly, and beautifully, like the rise of a slumbering princess, her eyelids finally separated, a genuinely serene look brought onto her expression.

And then, like the turning of the weather, it began to darken.

Twilight and Spike both took a step back as she suddenly jolted upward, her front hooves pressed firmly against her nose, holding in whatever precious little un-adulterated air she had left in her lungs.

There came a sound from her throat like a halting scooter, wheels screeching against tar and asphalt, before she scrambled, with a lot of difficultly, over a trap of pillows. Without the use of half of her limbs, it was a pretty interesting sight, as she pulled herself over the edge and crawled toward one of the adjoining rooms of the library.

And then, as Twilight and Spike both turned, watching with stunned silence at her disappearance behind the door-frame of the reading hovel, another sound came - wet, sticky, and spongy, accompanied by the upheaving noises of a pony whose health wasn't getting much better.

"Uh... Spike?" said Twilight.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get the mop," the dragon replied.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

As soon as Canary stepped off the cart, which landed on the front lawn of the overwhelming building, in front of the drawbridge, she was already being greeted by the very single pony she had come to see. Somehow, she wasn't at all surprised.

Celestia knew everything.

Although she would find that even 'everything' had its limits.

Still, for this case, Canary had the burning sensation to ask, even as she bid Silver farewell and told her to bunker down at the station and wait for her signal. Even as she purposefully watched Silver go, turning her back to the lord and ruler of Equestria, who stood there calmly and patiently, taking personal time out of her busy schedule to wait. Even as she took her own sweet time to turn around because she really hated being the first one to talk in these kinds of situations.

But she also knew why Celestia was so patient in this case; because she wanted Canary to talk first. She wanted to make her approach the things she didn't enjoy approaching, and Celestia was perhaps the best pony in the world to do that.

And Canary knew, the sad part was only because Celestia was just as much of an observer and manipulator of pony behaviour as some of the more evil ponies that she herself had encountered before. And she started to wonder if there was a difference.

"Good day, princess, nice weather we're having," she scowled.

The sun shone down, blazing its way through the scattered clouds and perfect sky. It was as blue as they came, today, and the mild heat, despite the beating rays, made it more than perfect for any contention of the title of 'nice weather'.

"Is it really? I hadn't noticed," said Princess Celestia. "And what brings you here today, Canary? It's so rare for you to make house calls; in fact, I dare say usually it's I who visits you..."

"Really, Princess? Must we... do this?"

"Why, I haven't the faintest what you're talking about, dear Canary," Celestia said, astonished, with a highly exaggerated voice. She wasn't even bothering to hide the fact that she was putting on airs. "I was simply standing outside my castle and watching the birds. Possibly that's why I didn't notice the weather - how could I take notice of my surroundings when I have a canary to focus on?"

"Princess, I've come to ask for your audience," Canary cut to the chase.

"Well then, it's quite fortunate you've caught me at my one free time during these trying days, haven't you?" she smiled down at her. "Very well, follow me, and let us move to the Hall of Windows."

She strode, with all her regality, across the bridge and into the castle, with Canary keeping a close second behind. Canary never walked side by side with her if possible; it felt odd. But it was something that Celestia always insisted on. She never put herself before another if she could help it.

"Canary," she asked, leading them down the grand halls of her castle, "The case you're currently working on, these... murders, these horrible crimes. How far along are you in your investigations?"

"It is why I have come to ask you for your time, Princess. We have reason to believe that the murderers are linked to a part of history that occurred long before our time. We were hoping that you could shed some light on the subject for us."

"Oh?" Celestia asked, in mock surprise. "You don't say. Strange, is it not?"

"What... is, Princess?"

"That the reason why I was looking for you was for the exact same reason. Certain lights are dim, and I was hoping that you could, in fact, turn up a few for me."

"Princess... I... do not wish to insinuate anything, but I am fairly sure you already know everything we do and more."

Celestia stopped in place, hooves gently falling to the stone floor without a single tap.

"Hah!" she burst out with a smile, the sound echoing off the tall ceilings.

"Beg... beg your pardon?"

"Hah," she repeated, in a normal speaking voice. "I am amused."

"Did... I say something, Princess?"

"This way, Canary," she continued walking, turning right at a corridor onto a carpeted section of the hall. "Yes, your belief that I somehow am privy to all the information in Equestria is quite refreshing. I had expected that you, of all other ponies, wouldn't consider such insensibilities. But, to clarify, no. I do not somehow know everything, and to tell you the truth, most of what I know simply comes from talking to the good people of the land such as yourself."

"But, Princess, you knew I was coming. You know what this is about. You know that there's something more to this case, don't you? Otherwise..."

"Oh, yes. I know that much, at least. What I do not know, however, is the name. Something that I believe you have figured out thanks to your tireless efforts."

"The name, Princess?"

They halted in the middle of a path that split three ways. Each were long passageways that held gracious amounts of decor, from hanging banners to the wall-to-wall velvet lining. But more noticeable were the stained-glass windows - gigantic huge ones - that adorned each section like towering giants watching over the paths they protected.

The light that streamed in cast strange shadows upon the surfaces opposite; a kaleidoscope of colour and form.

"By the second murder, I had begun to take notice that certain things were... odd. Slightly wrong. The same conclusions that you had come across, no doubt. I have heard, of course, that there were certain messages left at each scene. Something that warranted further research."

"Of course, Princess."

"But believe it or not, when I made my way to my library, somepony had taken off with a few books; books that contained certain information that I required. Would you believe that?"

"Ah... yes... Princess... I think I see where you're getting at..."

"Incredible, isn't it, that the very things that I required simply just up and vanished? Such a coincidence. Well, more than that, it simply meant that somepony had figured out something much earlier than I had; to the point where they had actually pre-empted my actions. Such a thing..."

"Princess..."

"... is to be commended."

"... ah..."

"Canary, would you like a tissue? You seem to be perspiring quite a bit."

"No... thank you, Princess."

"Well, needless to say, I was stuck at the point of the Wicked Stable. I couldn't go further, but luckily, along came somepony with the information I require. There are a few... old legends that I can vaguely recall that have to do with this Stable thing; it was a fairly popular set of vices way back then. I'd like to know specifically, from your research, which one of these legends I might be dealing with."

"The cult of Ouros, Princess."

"I see."

And she said nothing more, but turn sharply to the right, continuing down the respective path. Along the way were there dozens of windows, all of which showed some strange beast of some kind. There were monsters and ghosts and figures of shadow; there were homunculi and patchwork monsters, and that strange one that looked like each individual part of him was made out of different animals...

"Here we are," said Celestia, finally stopping at a window down the far end. "Ouros."

Canary had to strain her neck to look to the very top, and even then, she couldn't capture the entire thing at once even if she pressed herself to the opposite wall. It was a magnificent cut-out of crystal, each shard telling a story, and each story playing out like a still-frame of a macabre show captured forever in show.

At the top were those five circles that had been in the diagram of the book. Each symbol, however, was clearly drawn out now, free for Canary's perusal. They were joined by a circle, again, with that strange shape sticking out of the top. It had been the second instance of that form, and Canary was curious now.

The difference was that this window did not hold the upside-down horseshoe print of the Stable, and neither did it have much else in the way of design. Comparatively, it was fairly plain.

At the bottom of the window stood a silhouette of a pony. Its form was plain, its stance regular. There was nothing menacing or particular about it, except for the cutie mark that it had emblazoned upon its flank - a sort of spiky circle thing that Canary could not quite recognize.

"Well, this is..."

"Underwhelming?"

"Yeah, little bit, Princess. Won't lie."

"This is all we have. The cult of Ouros. All we have is a legend."

"Princess... what are they?"

"I do not know."

"You don't know?"

"No. Surprise you as much as it does, but I do not know. I've never encountered this pony before personally, and I do not know much else but the old memories of many years ago."

"There has to be something, Princess."

"Well, all I know is that what is going on now is the same thing that happened a few times before in the past. And when I say past, I mean far, far into the past. I believe the last time we had encountered the cult was a little over a thousand years ago. Essentially it was the same back then as it is now. Strange murders would happen, each a day apart, all of whom are left with signs and symbols of which you already know of - a set for the murdered and a set for the other five. And then... they'd just disappear."

"There's two sets of symbols, Princess?"

"Oh yes."

"We've only found one set... marking the victims."

"The other set is left with the ones who represent their opposites."

That gave Canary pause. At least, if they'd found that, then they'd know who the 'good' five were. But they hadn't come across anything like that yet, had they?

"As the old story goes, before each victim is killed, they will look in the mirror and be judged, and then they will repay their sins by laying the path for Ouros."

"And who is this Ouros figure, anyway?"

"It was the leader of the group. He or she was referred to as Ouros by the local populace when they struck, and the name just stuck around in legend. It is represented by the symbol of a snake in a circle."

"So that's what that thing is," Canary said to herself, looking at the cutie mark.

"Yes. It is the symbol of the Ouroboros. Have you heard of it before?"

"Can't say that I have, Princess."

"It's an old, ancient symbol, one of a snake eating its own tail. Long ago it used to symbolise fate, and the circle of life, and such other things. It was always about the futile nature of ponies and how we were all cursed to repeat our lives over and over. You see that diagram at the top there, Canary?"

"Yeah. It was in the book, too."

"That represents the five that the cult had deemed 'free' of this cycle of repetition. The five who represented, to them, the ones who had the ability to show virtue in sin. It was to these five whom they sought to deliver the sinful, as a strange odd sort of tribute."

"And those symbols..."

"Each represent the virtues, yes. Tolerance. Advocate. Humility, Honesty and Generosity."

"I'll have to remember them."

"Yes... perhaps it would be for the best. And this is all we know of this group."

"That isn't much to go on, Princess."

"I'd hate to say you've wasted a trip here, but unfortunately, I might just not have what you so desperately require."

"Princess, I'm trying to save lives out there!" Canary suddenly exploded, unable to hold in her patience. "There's two dead already, and three more to come! How am I supposed to go on with nothing?!"

"By doing what you always do, Canary," Celestia responded, patiently.

"And how am I supposed to do anything if I don't know anything?!"

"Well, Canary, it's fate. That's what the cult says, anyway. We've never been able to stop them before. Maybe it's just something that we can't do because it's always meant to happen."

"I refuse... I refuse to accept that!" yelled Canary, her voice echoing down the castle. "You can't stand there and tell me it's just fate while... ponies die! I don't care if it's fate! I'll find a way to change it!"

A sly smile crept into Celestia's face.

"Oh... oh for manure..." Canary tilted her head up and back, staring into her own skull. She lowered her voice again, finally realising she had been, quite embarrassingly, playing cards with the princess.

"Good!" said Celestia, much more cheerful than someone should be after having been yelled at. "I just wanted to hear that."

"You could've asked, Princess."

"There's no fun in that. Besides, I needed to know your convictions. And I wanted to know how true they were before I gave you this next bit of information."

"Is it that important?"

"Oh, yes, Canary. You see, this really isn't a normal case you're dealing with here."

"You're just about the third pony to tell me that today, Princess."

"So let me reassure you. If you want to continue down this path that you're on, you are not going to find it easy. You are not going to enjoy it, and I assure you, you are going to end up having to make some tough choices. It is inevitable."

Canary just listened.

"But let me also let you know that although we have never been able to stop them before, something rather different is happening here. I believe... by some twist of fate, that you are in it deeper than you already think, Canary. Do you agree?"

"Long ago, Princess. I figured out that I was one of the benefactors a while back."

"Although you're probably not represented by the 'humility' virtue, are you?"

"Princess, please!"

"Hah! Well, the difference between this time and all the times before, is that the benefactors are fighting back. Really, you five are just as much victims as the ones who are murdered. No one need suffer through what you are suffering through, but while every group in the past were satisfied to let fate have its way, you, and I hope the rest of you as well, are doing something to change it."

"You damn right we are."

"Language, Canary. Now. I'll tell you something else that isn't going to be easy, but you should be able to handle it, which is why I needed to know how serious you are."

"I'm all ears, Princess."

"Ouros employs a very ancient, very particular sort of magic. It is the magic of fate. You said you'd find a way to change it, right? I hope you the very best because that's exactly what you'll have to do."

"Excuse me? Fate? As in, fate fate?"

"Oh yes, now when it comes to actually thinking about it, it doesn't seem so simple any longer, does it? Anyway, part of the magic is that it defines its targets in advance. Before the cult disbands, they craft a tablet of some sort. It is a portend of warning for the next time they arrive. Now, the tablet doesn't indicate specifically who the targets are, but it does show where they will take place, and which virtue the murder is for. If you had this tablet, you would be able to perhaps prevent the next few murders from occurring, yes?"

"Well... it's certainly better than nothing, Princess. Where's the tablet?"

"Lost."

"What?!"

"Lost. Actually, not really lost because we never found it in the first place. I'll be honest. It was a big oversight, but I was a thousand years younger back then, and I won't be ashamed to admit that I have made my share of mistakes. Besides, after their most recent dispersal, something else cropped up that put me in a fairly bad mood for a long time."

"Your..."

"Yes, that's right. Water under the bridge though."

"How am I supposed to find something that even you couldn't find?"

"Didn't find. Although, would you like to know where Ouros last vanished?"

"Don't keep me waiting."

"Little place called Ponyville."

"Ponyville..."

"Yes. I believe the actual site is now some sort of apple plantation of some sort. You might want to go check it out as soon as possible."

"Princess?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I... have to ask."

"Of course."

"You've known about this tablet for all this time... and yet you tell me that you were never able to avert the murders before? What makes you so sure that we can do it this time?"

"Because, dear Canary." Celestia smiled, "fate usually can only be changed from the inside."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

A pin flew into a fold, and a pair of scissors made a cut just right. Fabric fell over fabric as a dress came up slowly in shape; just ever so perfect in so many ways.

Perfection was all that she demanded. Nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't that hard, you know. Making perfection just meant having to live perfection, and there wasn't anything wrong with that.

"Oh yes, just... beautiful!" squealed Rarity, satisfied with the length of that hemline.

And it was just ever such a coincidence that like her bolts of cloth, her day, too, was about to be cut short, as a knock on the door interrupted her, and Opal from her nap.

She wrenched the glasses off her face and lay them carefully down upon the table, as she spoke out loud to her pet cat, as she normally did.

"Oh, now who could that be? I was so certain I left the store closed for the day, my dear. I simply can't have these interruptions!"

But she never expected that.

Not, as she threw open her front door, and as the colour drained even further from her face, which was already quite a feat as it was.

"Oh... my..."

"Heh... heh... hi, Rarity," grinned Twilight shamefully. "Uh... we kind... of need your help."

"Her... her hair, it looks like she has been through a storm!"

"I think she... might have been," said Twilight, magically dragging Duriandal into the shop. She wasn't fighting back; she lost her energy when she lost her stomach a while ago. Now, with her half-shut eyes and assaulted senses, she hovered a thin line between falling unconscious again and wishing she had stayed that way.

"And... oh dear, what is that awful, awful smell?"

"Don't ask, Rarity. Please."

"And... is that vomit?"

"Rarity, can you get her back into... working condition?"

"Just who do you think you're talking to? I'll have her in the pink of condition in no time at all!"

"I know you're not a doctor, Rarity but..."

"Nonsense, dear! Why, just look at her! This poor pony doesn't need first aid! She needs a makeover!"

"I sure hope you're right, Rarity."

"Come on, let's get her to the bath."

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"Alright. Here's the plan," said Canary, with determination, storming back into the station and not even giving the others a chance to greet her. Even Berry had to take a moment to realise whom it was who was suddenly talking.

"We have very little time, so... before we go on, anything I should know, Berry?"

"Uh... yeah Sarge, hi, by the way. Uh... we have a sort of lead. Two of them, actually. One is that we might know who the next target is."

"Alright. And what else?"

"We might know where Miss Duriandal has gone, Sarge."

"Where?"

"We think maybe she went to the docks."

"Well, isn't that fantastic. That's where I'm headed anyway."

"You're heading off again, Sarge?" drooped Berry.

"Yes. We don't have the luxury of time. I'll explain when we get back, but I need to find something, really fast, and really soon. And I'm going to need help."

"You got it S..."

"Miss Blitz," Canary interrupted. "I am extremely sorry to have to do this on such short notice, but I will need your help. Could you come with me?"

"Well, of course, but, what's this all about?"

"I'll explain on the way."

Berry felt her heart tighten, like a noose was strung around it. As soon as she heard that name... the name that wasn't hers...

"Sarge?" she asked, slowly.

"Yeah, Berry?"

"Uh... couldn't I come with you? I mean, we gotta work the case together, right?"

"Yeah, you could, but you're going to need to stay here. There's going to be bad things happening while I'm away, and you're going to have to handle it, alright?"

"But, Sarge..."

"Berry... listen," Canary said, softly. "I know, alright? I know. It isn't going to be easy, but you know what? I trust you. No matter what you do, no matter how strange you do things... I trust you. And this is why I'm asking you to stay here and help me. I trust you to be able to protect yourself and all the other ponies in this entire damn city, all the way from the walls to the edge. I trust you to be able to do it without me having to look over your shoulder. And I trust you to know that I've also got a job to do and lives to save, and if we need to be apart for a while... that's the breaks."

"O... ok, Sarge," said Berry. "Thanks. I'll do a good job. Promise."

"Yeah, I know. Now listen. You and Flare, you are going to stay here, and follow up on that lead, alright?"

"Alright, Sarge."

"And I and Miss Blitz will be back before you know it."

Canary turned about-face, and started off again, nearly instantly. "Come on, Blitz Breeze, Silver's keeping the cart warm outside."

"But where are you going, Sarge?" yelled Berry at her, as she left.

"I'm going to go find a map, Berry!"

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The Princess of Equestria entered the room. It was dark, moody. Secretive. It was a room that held plenty of hushed whispers and quiet callings. Even the raiser of the sun had her colours muted as she strolled to the center of the shadows and spoke to no one in particular.

"You were right," said Celestia. "It was as we feared."

"That is unfortunate," a voice replied.

"But the wheels are turning."

"Yes, I started them."

"But where will the wheel stop, I wonder?"

"I wonder indeed."

...

"What shall you do from here, Celestia?"

"I think... it's time you told me everything that you know," she replied.

MEZZO

The cloaked figure flew, as easily as any Pegasus, through the night sky, only looking down once every so often to make sure that the path was straight and true.

Wherever eyes were laid, things were revealed; that was the gift and the power.

But even gifts and powers held no accountability for the one who was being chased.

The figure landed, and did not even wait before breaking into a run.

This was the second, and time was not kind.

Time was never where you needed it, and in this place, under the howling winds and rains that did not let up for a day, and would not let up for a few days to come, time was simply too little too late.

The figure looked at the tablet hovering in front of the darkness that obscured facial features and recognizable sights. It was no use; it was far too dark to make it out.

But this was the place, definitely. There was a feeling. There was a knowledge.

But there was also a sign.

The body hadn't even been discovered. There was no need to.

Already, painted on the underside of a stone outcropping; where the rains did not touch, was a horseshoe; laughing and mocking the figure.

And the figure spent three seconds looking at the symbol, allowing that one moment of regret and recognition, before taking back to the skies.

END MEZZO

Worth Searching For Pt 1

I have got two really really lovely gifts of art from a reader. Thank you very much, Knife_Party!
Check out his submissions... and more, in the Gallery.

There exists a phrase that ponies said sometimes, that Berry never understood. 'I hate to be right'.

Usually it was followed by a 'but', and that by itself usually followed with some particularly unglamorous news.

'I hate to be right, but our cart's wheel just broke.'

'I hate to be right, but you're just about as ugly as I imagined.'

Things like that.

The reason why Berry never understood it was for the fact that she never thought being correct about anything was something to be ashamed of. There was never any misfortune in being right, no matter what the news was. In fact, it was usually the guesses that came true which helped in life - it helped to prepare for the future and helped to make sure you'd be less likely to be surprised by some upcoming eventuality.

Despite her beliefs, though, she found herself hating the fact that Flare was right, and there about her came a sort of clashing set of feelings in her head that made her dizzy and unable to think for a while.

She would have never known, reasoned Berry, that this pony was in fact, the one to be victim of a heinous crime. She would have never known that she would be the next recipient. She would have never known a million things and a half, all of which had unfortunately led to them being barely an hour too late.

But Flare had guessed, and she was correct.

And Berry hated it.

Berry led Flare down the streets to the shop that held the body of the late Mr. Meadowland; Baker. They'd decided to walk. Silver had disappeared ever since she took off with Canary and Blitz, and everypony else was under strict orders from Staff Sergeant Blue to hunker down in the base and not leave. That left a lot of itchy heads, but Blue told her that he'd sort things out, and there shouldn't be any problems outside of the obvious fact that ponies don't really like to be told that they might die sometime within the next two days or so.

And as they approached the store, both of them got a little sinking feeling, because they knew that something was entirely wrong.

Or, in this case, entirely right.

It was funny how things changed depending on how you look at them.

There was the usual crowd for this area of Canterlot; a long market street which rivalled in popularity to the one that Duriandal's shop was on, and it wasn't to say that this shop was incredibly bad, but there was no need for the vapid crowd that lingered outside the front windows.

Berry caught on at once that this was the bad kind of crowd. The kind that nopony wants to have. It was a murmuring crowd. Happy crowds were noisy crowds, and when voices dipped down low, there was something to watch. Even as upper-class as they were, with their feathers in their hats and flowers in their lapels, everypony whispers when there's a show on.

They approached the gang from the back, stopping before a sea of flanks and hushed waves rippling upon the beach.

"Are you doing alright?" asked Berry, to the side.

Flare wouldn't answer. She felt a shiver run through her spine, the kind one gets when one has a strange thought or premonition that sends a scattering of goose bumps over the skin and down into the inner reaches of the body. The kind that makes you feel cold, even when a warm breeze is blowing; the kind that makes you turn away, even when there's nothing to see.

Why it would come to this...

Would there be any, any solace at all in knowing that it wasn't her fault?

Her thoughts cascaded down, overwhelmingly smothering her rationality, and destroying whatever sanity she had left to spare for an occasion such as this.

And then it stopped. All of a sudden, it turned black, a switch turning off, a blanket thrown over the entangled web of worms.

A new feeling erupted, from the pit of her stomach - a pulsing, breathing living feeling that pushed against her insides and fought for too much personal space.

Flare blinked, as one would when something is stuck in one's eye, and a clear drop of liquid gathered and streaked down the side of her cheek.

"Hey, Hey, it's alright, it's alright," said Berry, noticing. She wanted to say something at this point. 'We don't know if it's him', maybe. Or 'it could be something else'. But everything was just a sentence thrown in the face of certainty, carrying no form or function.

"Do you need to take a moment?" asked Berry, settling for doing what she could to make her feel better.

"What... m... me? No, of course not," Flare scoffed at the thought.

"Alright, but... alright. Keep your wits up, ok?"

"Yeah... of course... I'm always on... on the ball," Flare shook her head, blue hair flying in all directions at once. She pushed off the feelings and dulled her head. She felt a headache coming on, but she wasn't going to allow something stupid like emotions block her progress, oh no. There wasn't any time for that.

"Ok, here we go."

The ones who noticed first were the ones at the back, obviously, the bright red light shining down and flashing up every few microseconds. They turned, looked behind them, and ducked their heads as they parted, as if guilty of standing there.

Slowly, as the crowd gave way piece by piece, whispers started to fly up into the air hailing the presence of the police, and including them in the business of gossip.

But slowly as it was, part they did in entirety, and never in any other crowd would you find the coordination required for a hundred or so strangers to move in complete unison all at once, giving way to somepony that was actually supposed to be there.

And moment by moment, like a plenitude of curtains parting before a stage, the stage was finally revealed as the last few ponies stepped aside and let Berry through, where she turned off her helmet for the opening act.

The ponies at the far behind had the mind to disperse; once the police were involved only the most curious or the most foolhardy stuck around, which meant at least 80% of the crowd still remained.

"Where'd you suppose Celestia's guards are?" asked Flare, looking around and trying to avoid having to look into the store itself. "Usually for this kind of thing..."

"I dunno," shrugged Berry. "Mebbie I think Sergeant Canary had something to do with it or whatever, but after the first scene they just stopped showing up. Makes me wish they did come though, what with this crowd."

"Hey, I could, you know. Uh... Stay out here..." offered Flare. "Keep the crowd out, and all."

"Yeah... yeah, that's a good idea," nodded Berry, floating her saddlebags off her back and placing them on the sidewalk in front of the store. "If you can, try to give us some space out here in the front as well. Grab some police tape from my bag..."

"O... ok."

"And before I go in? Your... acquaintance. Just so I know. What... did he look like?"

"He was... a Pegasus Pony. But you already know that. Gold mane. Um... grass-green coat. I haven't seen him in a while, but... that should be it, yeah."

The store looked foreboding. It was dark inside. The lights were probably out. Rather than the normal circular, wide-spaced style of Canterlot's building regular, these shops were all joined together in a long, squarish block, like a sweep of terrace houses all joined at the hip. Two rows on either side made up the street, and the shop fronts were all rather quaint and untoward.

There weren't even any proper glass windows in the storefront, unlike normal shops you'd have nowadays. All there was were the doors, which, being made of glass themselves, provided the only view inside. The rest was all painted brick, with the shop's name - The Rising Dough - painted to one side of the doorway. The other side looked like it had the exhaust end of the oven built right into it, and you didn't have to be Duriandal to be able to tell that it was, thanks to the smell of burnt bread pouring out with heavy acrid-and-walnut overtones.

It made sensible use of the space, and had no flash. The bread that was baked probably spoke for itself.

And Berry felt, as she pushed the door open with a little bit of magic, that the bread was the only thing left inside that had anything to say.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Muffled. Blunt. Non-invasive. This was a good way to be. This was a good way of communication with the environment and the ponies that lived in it. This was a good way of escaping the pressures of thought.

I should consider investment in one, thought Duriandal, as she surfaced for air from the bubbly surface of the waters that filled the luxurious tub that she sank herself in, allowing the sounds, sights and smells of real life to come flowing back in a burst.

The lush, soothing waters gently stroked her skin as they rippled against the sides of the tub; that odd blue pony with the strange foreign accent adding fragranced crystals to the bath from little clay jars.

It was all very soothing in so many ways.

The relaxation it brought to the little broken poppet went so far as to make her start to use contractions in natural speech again.

"How does that feel? asked Twilight Sparkle, gazing at Duriandal from the edge of the wooden slats that bordered the pool.

"It's perfectly adequate," responded Duriandal, a slight curling of the lips occurring at the edges of her mouth without her permission.

"Simply... simply adequate?" challenged Rarity. "Not even brilliant or luscious?"

"Oh, it is... perfectly adequate," explained Duriandal, surprised. "It is to say, it is at the height of its agreement with me. Not a single element detracts from my enjoyment; that is to say, it is perfect, as opposed to being a little adequate or not at all adequate."

"Ah..." trailed off Rarity.

"That's... an interesting way... of seeing things," said Twilight. "I guess that means you're enjoying yourself then?"

"It is calming. And now that I am no longer under duress I believe that I owe you quite the apology, or at least, an explanation as to my earlier behaviour."

"Ah... no, don't worry about it! Why don't you just take some time to..."

Ahem.

"... to unwind a bit and we can talk..."

Ahem.

"What is it, Spike?" Twilight turned to the little dragon who was poking her in the side with a scaly elbow.

"I know you don't really need an apology, but you didn't have to mop up all the sick, did you?" Spike said.

"Of course. I rightfully give my concessions for that matter," Duriandal continued, "and I might explain that my sense of smell is rather acute. That particular combination of ammonia and eucalyptus triggered a gag reflex that caused me to expel my..."

"Is she actually apologizing? I can't tell," said Spike, grumpily.

"Spike, be nice!" Twilight scolded him, turning back to Duriandal. "I'm sorry for his behaviour... he's..."

"No, it is perfectly understandable," nodded Duriandal, a bit of water splashing at the movement. "After all, it was he who had to clean up the undesirable. I hope this will not sully our further relationships."

"Of course it won't, right Spike?"

"Yeah yeah," the dragon said. "Anyway, before all that, what was with all the pointing and everything? That's what I wanna know!"

"Well, as I have come to understand, from the reactions of Miss Twilight Sparkle earlier, she genuinely seemed to not recollect our previous meeting."

"Previous meeting? We'd only just met for the first time an hour ago," said Twilight.

"As I surmised."

"Have you... seen me before?"

"I believe... both yes and no."

"I don't understand. How could you have done both before?"

"Mmmmm! Enough of this for now!" declared Rarity suddenly. "You, darling, have been in there far too long. You're going to wrinkle up, and your hair is going to sop. We need to get you out of there this instant and get you back to the boutique!"

She remained immobile for a moment, considering the options, but then slowly raised up to step out of the tub.

"But before we go, dear, would you like a facial?"

"A facial? What is that?" asked Duriandal quizzically.

"Well you take some mud and put it onto your face..."

"No!"

And with that, she left a rather perplexed Rarity behind as she rushed to leave.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"So, what's your deal, anyway?" yelled Canary, once again finding it hard to maintain normal conversation through rushing winds.

They were at the back of Silver's cart, which was being hauled one-way to Ponyville via express. Silver was told to go along and stay there with them; they figured the fewer ponies left in Canterlot the better, and Silver was in fact one of the more rogue-like members of the precinct, making her a bigger target.

Only Canary was strapped down to the bench - another Pegasus barely needed a safety harness, and Blitz was pretty much flying down there by herself anyway. With the heavy load, Silver's speed was brought down to a much more manageable level.

"My deal?" asked Blitz, back at the question. "I'm not sure what you're referring to!"

"Well, you're pretty handy with your words, and you're pretty calm all the time. You some kind of monk or something?"

"No, no, far from it! Although admittedly I do enjoy the odd spot of meditation once in a while!"

"Was that a joke?"

"Yes it was, Canary!"

"Good! I hate monks!"

"Why?"

"Can't tell what they're thinking!"

The cart was brought lower, and Canary felt the sudden dip and acceleration. It was a veritable roller-coaster ride that she didn't have to pay for.

"Is that important to you?" shouted Blitz.

"What?"

"Knowing what other ponies are thinking all the time?"

"Oh no, you're not trying that mind stuff on me again, are you?"

"What mind stuff?"

"Don't act..."

Another dip cut her short.

"Don't act innocent! Like what you did back at the station! Narrowing down problems and then nailing it to the wall just like that!"

"Isn't that what you do, Officer?"

"Oh, very good, very good! Yeah, difference is, it's my job! It isn't your job to go around shrinking other ponies' heads, is it? Or are you a part-time sculptor, part-time whack?"

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you! I just happen to know what to say, I think! It certainly isn't my talent, though!"

"Yeah? Pull the other one! That was some work you did with that Flare character! In all honesty, I didn't expect you'd actually talk to her!"

"Don't worry, she was annoying me too!"

"Nice to know you can get annoyed!"

The pair of them split up momentarily as Blitz veered left to avoid an oncoming cloud, but joined shortly later. They were nearly at the ground now.

"Silver!" yelled Canary, louder, to reach the pony at the forefront of the wind. "Over there! On your right! See that round building with the pillars? Set us there!"

"What's that building?" asked Blitz, as the cart suddenly changed directions to head toward the building that was pointed out. Their speed had dropped dramatically, which came as relief to Blitz, who naturally hated shouting.

"Beats me," said Canary.

"Why there, then?"

"Looks official. From up high you can see how the town was planned out. Every building always radiates outward from where the town first starts. We're looking for the roots, because the important people live in the roots."

Blitz considered that. It was a pretty sound reasoning.

"There's two roots here in this town. One's this building, and one's that open empty space just across from it. Obviously some kind of market square or something. Communal area. But this building here, has the best vantage point, is really tall, and the most important thing..."

"What's that?"

"It's hideous. Looks like it was made out of manure and sticks. That's government if you ever saw it."

"Huh."

"Yeah. You said it."

The cart came to a sudden stop at the second level of the round, triple-stacked building. Railings all around each level and wooden columns propping up each balcony really did give this building a rather official look to it, and most certainly it was the home of a pony that they needed to contact first.

The doors rattled on their hinges as the cart came to a bumpy rest on solid ground. Already, and this was of course, unavoidable, a few of the locals had come to gather 'round to point and whisper. Never was there a more exciting Wednesday late-afternoon than a strange cart come down from the sky and visited upon them right, yee-haw.

Surely, there'll be tales told around the campfires tonight while we're cookin' up our beans n' roadkill over that there fire about them fancy people come from the clouds, you betcha!

Almost as if Blitz was reading Canary's mind, she jutted in with a quick observation of her own.

"Well, it's not as bad as I would have thought, is it now? Surely, it's not a big city, but the ponies here look friendly and they seem to have reasonable amenities."

"Yeah..." Canary drawled. "We'll see soon, won't we?"

The doors to the town hall creaked open, and a bespectacled elderly pony appeared from behind the warm glow of firelight that fell out of the crack.

"Oh hello there, may I help you?"

"Yes," said Canary, in her official tone. "We'd like to speak to the official in charge of this lovely town, if you may."

"Oh... oh yes, I am the Mayor here, in fact."

"Offff course you are," smiled Canary, not a single bit of the sardonicism on her mind playing in her voice and expression.

"What can I do for you?" The Mayor responded, cheerfully.

"May we step inside?" asked Canary.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Two things were obvious in the dark. Two noises, clear in the empty space that the shop sang.

One was the bell that rang as the door closed behind Berry. There was one of those contraptions above the frame that held a small tinkling chime which cried whenever the door hit it.

The second was a low sizzling popping sound, flaked with ticks and crackles and other such static.

A third noise joined - the sound of Berry's own breath exhaling from her lungs.

She blinked.

Looked down.

To the right.

Time to get to work, Berry. Go on.

Figures were the only things that were lit up by the glow of the oven that lay behind the counter to her immediate right. Everything in the room was shapes. All of them flowing and morphing and changing with the dancing fires, shadows entwined with light in a duet of flowing movements and invisible curtains.

She removed her helmet, bringing it down to her hooves and placing it gently on the floor with a 'tink', and with one final exhale, lit up the room with a blast of light from her horn.

It didn't help much, but it did help make the featureless blobs gain form, and also let her see that all the candles and lanterns that normally would have made the store a much cheerier place were all unlit. Perhaps they had been extinguished in a struggle, or perhaps on purpose? Berry couldn't tell just yet.

Splitting the room in half was a counter that stretched from just beside the door to the far end of the shop. Everything on the side that Berry was standing on were for the patrons - a few tables here and there on wooden parquet flooring and not much else.

The whole feeling about it said that it wasn't the kind of place set up to really let customers mill about. It was closed off, stuffy and really rather unfriendly. The tables seemed unnecessary; maybe even put there for form over function. Perhaps that might have just been a trick of the light though, and Berry didn't want to just set that in stone just yet.

Behind the dividing partition was the chef's area. The oven was set right into the front wall, as was seen from the outside, and all of the natural light in the room was coming from deep within its brick recesses.

The rest of his space was preparation. There was a cold box in the far corner, metal tables lining the wall with flour and dough roughly dotting the landscape, and trays upon trays of unbaked and baked goods ready for their further destinations.

However, the real centrepiece of the shop was the counter itself. With a till near the oven, everything else was simply baked goods of all sorts displayed rather haphazardly. With no time to set things up in a fashionable way, the trays of finished bread were simply dropped onto the counter, where, assumedly, ponies would simply grab what they wanted off the trays and bring them to the till to be rung up.

It seemed that the one pony did everything himself.

The placement of things seemed to indicate that, Berry thought. There was no time to make things look nice, so everything had to balance on the quality of the goods. Especially in a shop row like this, with high-class snobberies partaking of the wares, this certainly wasn't a place to be caught in without due reason, and the reason had to simply be that the bread was just that good.

Everything was also placed to focus around the one area; the door. Looking at it, Berry could definitely put herself at that location the most. It had the best vantage point, had access to the till, the oven and everything else. It was, perhaps, the single most important area of the room.

And preliminary observations, inasmuch as she could see, was done, just like that. Nothing more to report, because there wasn't anything else that she could discern. Despite the odd smell that hung in the air and the overall mood of disease, it seemed as if she could have just simply walked into a shop that wasn't open.

"I dunno, Canary," she said out loud to herself, with a nervous voice. "It doesn't look like there was a struggle, or anything..."

Well, what does that mean, Berry?

"Maybe... maybe... I dunno, Sarge..."

The lights, Berry. The lights.

"The lights... oh!"

They were off. Of course. But why? There weren't any signs of disturbance and that must have been the point.

"I see, they got the drop on him when he came in to open. They were here first."

That's right. What else?

"We're in the middle of a busy shopping street. There's no way in or out of this building except through the front door. There must be..."

Berry's head jerked up toward the doors.

"... somepony who saw something. Right, Sarge?"

...

"Sarge?"

...

"Ah, drat."

Probably better that she stopped talking to herself, anyway. Didn't seem quite sane, even to somepony like Berry.

Aren't you forgetting something?

"Ah!" Berry squeaked.

Ok, don't go crazy, Berry! You're in charge, alright? You don't need another pony to lead you by the hoof... although it would be really great if somepony did. Could I call somepony else from the station? Maybe... no... not him... no... not her either...

Berry!

Oh Colt what's going on oh no what in Celestia's name

The body, Berry! The body!

"Oh, Right."

The body.

Forgotten all about it.

Better start finding it, then.

Shouldn't take too long.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Canary sneezed.

"Bless you," said the Mayor.

"Thank you," replied Canary.

"Somepony's talking about you," commented Blitz.

"Sure," said Canary. "Anyway, pardon me. As I was about to say, I come on behalf of Canterlot PD. I'm investigating a... pretty important case for Princess Celestia..."

If you were going to drop names, best to do it early and fast.

"... and we were hoping we could get some cooperation from the town of Ponyville."

"Oooh, Princess Celestia, why of course!" declared the Mayor. "And we're definitely willing to help the law around here. Please, tell me what you need!"

"That... that's it?" asked Canary.

"Um... sure?" said the Mayor, slightly perplexed.

"No... need for lengthy explanations? No offensively long paperwork? No delays until next week?"

"Ah... no?"

"... I really miss the country, sometimes."

"Thank you?" said the Mayor, even more confused as ever.

"Not a problem, Mayor. Anyway, here's what we need. Do you have old town planning charts and blueprints?"

"Oh yes, yes, we do."

"And how far back do they stretch?"

"Why, since the town began, I believe."

"Excellent. We'd like to see them, please."

"Of course, they're just upstairs in the old planning room. They should all be still there, filed by date. Do please be careful with some of them, they can be rather old."

"We'll be extra gentle, Miss Mayor. And thank you very much."

"Yes, thank you," added Blitz.

"Not a problem. I'll be right here in my office if you need me for anything!"

The process went by much more smoothly than Canary could have ever believed. There was just something in this town that made its inhabitants open and friendly and trusting. Canary figured it was something in the water.

They made their way up the spiral staircase that led to the upper terraces of the Town Hall building, Blitz taking the time to admire the wooden craftwork laid into the fixtures and the sideboards. Even the stairs had their own fanciful carvings - a reflection of how nobility was shown hundreds of years ago. Things surely moved away from that.

"I didn't know you were from the country," said Blitz, as they entered the planning room.

"I almost forgot myself," replied Canary, taking a look around.

A huge drawing table with odd devices scattered around it took up the center, and little cubbyholes addressed the walls on both sides. Along the far end, along the curved wall beyond which was the outside of the building, were two simple windows adorned with curtains. Rolls and rolls of paper stuck out of the cubbies like eels.

A single lit candle gave illumination, and it was plenty with the sunlight streaming through.

"There's many puzzling things about you, Canary..."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like how you're going to be terribly annoyed if I shared, but how much more terribly annoyed you'd be if I didn't, now that I've just said it."

"I..."

"Shall we get searching? What is it that you need us to find?"

"... Alright. Fine. Just this once, I'm going to let somepony pry into my personal life. Alright? It has nothing to do with anything."

"Perish the thought, Canary."

"Hurry up before I lose interest," she muttered, walking over to the holes. Thankfully, they were all labelled with little brass plates that told the date of creation.

"Take for example, that I'd have never pegged you for somepony that came out from the country, Canary."

"That was a long time ago. I've left it behind. Hey, go check on the other side of the room. What's the earliest date you can find?"

"Ah... about two hundred years ago. And It just occurs to me that it's not the only thing you left behind."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Constable Berry. You know she worships you?"

"Don't be stupid."

"And it's not just because of your working relationship. She really truly has something for you. Did you have a history with her?"

"A history? What are you talking about?" Canary repeated. "New girl on the block came in a year ago or whatever. Claimed to be looking for me specifically. She was just dumped on me. Never seen her before then!"

"Interesting."

"I don't see what's so interesting about it. Anyway, what are you trying to say? Do you know us or something?"

"No, not at all. Just something I've been observing."

"Yeah? What's it to you then? Meddling with other ponies' lives?"

"I just like solving puzzles."

"Tell you what, why don't we focus on this puzzle we have in front of us right now, alright? My life is not a puzzle for you to crack."

"Of course not. It's not a puzzle until all the pieces are in place."

"And just what does that mean? Are you trying to upset me?"

"Little bit, yeah."

"What... why!?"

"Well, from what I see, you seem to think best when your blood's rushing a little."

"Y... ok, enough of this. Let's get back to the charts, alright?"

"Of course. What do you need me to get?"

"And I'll tell you something else, too," added Canary. "There isn't anything missing, alright? I haven't forgotten anything."

And just for a moment, right there.

Inside that fraction within a fraction, that light at the bottom of the well twinkled again, and just for that moment, Canary doubted what she said, before it disappeared back into the inky depths.

"I... haven't forgotten anything," she reconfirmed to herself.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"So, what you're saying is... you saw me in your shop on the day of the first incident?" asked Twilight, as a frilly-brimmed sun hat flew past her face.

"Oh, try this one on, dear! It would look ever so nice with your hair, I think!" cried Rarity, plonking the yellow Frisbee onto Duriandal's head.

"Ah... yes. It wasn't... you, correct?"

"No no, entirely clashes with your tones, darling. You're definitely not a 'summer'," Rarity stated, disappointedly as the hat joined the others in the pile of rejects that slowly grew in size as the minutes rolled by.

"No, it wasn't," said Twilight. "And that's really troubling, honestly. I don't know any reason why anypony would want to impersonate me. Not to mention to find out about the victim, too."

"Spike, Spike dear? Bring the next batch!"

The dragon walked in with a stack of hats far taller than he was, himself.

"Here, Rarity!" he said, placing them in a pile at her hooves.

"My assumption is that somepony intends to frame you for some reason," explained Duriandal. "It seems to be a rather big coincidence that you are the one who in fact, summoned me with your letter."

"Actually, I think the letter was the thing that was a coincidence," said Twilight.

"Oh, a shawl," said Rarity. "Of course, it must be!"

"I was trying out a new spell... one that I had never done before. I was trying to make the scroll appear before the one most closely related to the crime. Hopefully... the criminal himself. But it seems that what happened was that it appeared before the closest pony who was related to the crime instead."

"You were trying to summon the murderer?"

"Yeaaaahhh... sorta!"

"Twilight Sparkle!" scolded Rarity, as she tied a length of cloth around Duriandal's head. "You should know better than to invite murderers around to your house!"

"I know! I know, alright? I wasn't really thinking very straight."

"It was those books again," explained Spike. "They mess with her head."

"And you were rather ill-prepared for a visit," elaborated Duriandal, standing there like a plaything being dressed up for imaginary tea. "Had I truly been the murderer, you might have been in a lot of danger."

"See, Twilight? Princess Celestia knows what she's talking about! You should really keep out of it," said Spike, trying again to convince her to remove herself before she got in too deep.

"Alright, alright. I'll stay out of it," grumbled the curious unicorn. "But still, I'm honestly kind of weirded out by the fact that you saw me in your shop. They certainly didn't tell me that fact when they dragged me to the police station."

"No, no, terrible!" Rarity yanked the scarf off.

"I cannot explain it either, but definitely, you were there. I recognize you, and you told me your name. Twilight Sparkle. It was very deliberate. You said you were looking for what was to become the first victim."

"Sounds like a set up to me," Spike threw in his two cents.

"But who'd want to frame me? And why?"

"That is a mystery," said Duriandal.

"I can't find a hat for you!" wailed Rarity. "This has never happened before!"

"Uh... Rarity, maybe a hat's not what she needs?" suggested Twilight.

"Of... of course! Brilliance! Oh, Twilight, I could just kiss you!"

"Ah... I think that was my idea," said Spike.

"What is... ah... happening now?" asked Duriandal.

"Don't go anywhere! I shall be right back!" Rarity zoomed off into her sewing room.

"Don't worry about it. Just keep standing there," said Twilight. "Anyway, why'd you decide to come down here? Shouldn't you be in Canterlot?"

"It... it was a bit overwhelming for me," explained Duriandal. "There was too many things happening, and... I just... wanted... wanted to leave."

"That's alright. You're our guest, ok? Stay as long as you like."

"You have my thanks for your hospitality and patience," sighed Duriandal, sadly, as if her presence suddenly was an incredible burden.

"Is... everything alright?"

"Ah... yes. Yes. Yes it is."

"Ok, but if there's anything you need... please don't hesitate to ask."

"I shall not."

"Tell you what, if you want to get your mind off things, why don't we go for a little walk after Rarity comes back and does what she wants to do?"

"Where do you intend to go?"

"I just thought I'd show you around. And anyway, earlier when I threw... ah... the stinky stuff out the window, it kind of landed near my friend's farm. I don't think I should leave it there. She might not like the idea of stinky apples for her next crop."

"Oh, and I think I can help you with that," nodded Duriandal.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

Berry turned suddenly, her eyes flying open with shock as the door bell rang again, and the creaking of the hinges marked an entry into the store. She was standing behind the counter when it happened, and she froze out of self-preservation instinct, which was running rampant through the ones she learnt in training.

"Hey! Hey, you can't go in there you crazy old stallion! I'm talking to you!" a voice trailed in. That belonged to the self-appointed guard, Berry recognized. But an old stallion? Who...

"Hey, Canary, no ride today? What, they not feeding Silver enough?" came a gruff old voice.

Once again, Berry froze. This time, because she knew who the crazy old stallion was, and she knew that Mr. Bowler, the coroner, did not like her very much.

"I said no entry!" yelled Flare, as she pushed past the pony who didn't so much as care about her presence.

"Canary! You in here? What's with the volunteer force?"

Berry closed her eyes. Took in two deep breaths and then stood up.

"Mister Bowler, Sergeant Canary is off on other official business. It's just me today."

"Oh you... you gotta be kidding me. I came all this way for this?"

"Mister Bowler, I..."

"Shouldn't have made the trip, should I?"

"Now, Mister Bowler..."

"Where's the real officer in charge?"

"MISTER BOWLER!"

The door clicked close as Night Flare made the wise decision to leave again.

"Now, you... you LISTEN!" railed Berry, her voice reaching pitches that would have made mice take notice. "Sergeant Canary is NOT HERE! Alright? I am! And that means that I am in charge of this crime scene, whether you like it or not! And... and I don't care if you hate me, and I don't care what you say to others behind my back, but when you step into... into my crime scene you better respect me, and if you don't, at least respect the legband! Now, I don't... I don't care how much longer you've been working with the police, but at this moment I outrank you and if you don't want to do your damn flanking job then that is your choice but not mine, and whatever hate you have you can just leave it at... at..."

She raised a leg and pointed for effect.

"... at the door!"

Bowler, the coroner, smirked. But behind his beard it was hard to tell. It was pretty hard to faze him, he was the one who really saw so much that it numbed most of his faculties.

"Got that off your chest, have ya?"

"The door!!" reasserted Berry.

"Nice to see there's a little fire in you after all. Might make a good officer yet."

"Mister Bowler, I'm not here for you to discuss my place in the police station or how my personal behaviour affects it. Right now, what I need is a coroner. Are you going to be that pony?"

"Alright, P.C. Berry. Where's the stiff?"

"The victim is here, Mister Bowler. I haven't touched anything. I wasn't going to until you arrived, but I'm wondering how you actually came here, considering I don't remember calling for you."

"Word gets around, Berry. After the last two, ponies are on edge out there. Seeing how I got the news before I got a visit from Silver, I figured something was up. Anyway, I had something kinda urgent I needed to tell Canary, too."

"Whatever you need to tell her, you can tell me. I will relay all information to her. She will not be back for a while."

"Yeah, alright. Who's the yutz at the door?"

"Civilian hire. Canary's orders. She's involved in this case deep."

"She isn't doing a good job, y'know."

"She isn't really supposed to be doing anything, I don't think."

"Alright, let's take a look at the body, now."

"Right through here, Mister Bowler," she stepped aside for him to enter through the little gap in the counter between the display case and the cashier.

"Wow. That's a piece of art," said Bowler, as he turned the corner and caught sight of the corpse.

"Yes. I suppose it is," said Berry. "So... you'll get to work. I'll be checking out the rest of the scene. Let me know if you find anything unusual. And... thank you for the help. I'm sorry for swearing earlier."

"Don't spoil it," replied the husky elder, as he leaned down to observe the body more closely. "Anyway, listen up. Something happened at the morgue earlier. Don't know how it fits in, but you definitely want to know about it."

"I'm listening," said Berry.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

There were few things that shocked Bowler nowadays, or even upset him. It was just day after day of seeing accidents, murders or whatever... it didn't matter. If it was dead and a body he saw it. He wasn't specifically a police pony either, so he didn't only handle the criminal parts. He was involved in pretty much any sort of passing away that occurred across Canterlot, and by jove there were a few of them.

The strange thing was that the accidental ones were always far more stomach-turning than the sinister ones.

It was the first time a dead body caused him to take notice long after the body was found, cleaned up and stored.

Morgues, by right, are quiet, peaceful places. There's nopony to hang around to make a noise, and none of the residents should really be complaining about the lodgings and cramped quarters and lack of facilities.

That's why Bowler heard it, clearly and sharply, coming from the drawers he set aside for this particular case. Two drawers for two bodies, and a certain shifting noise was certainly coming from the first one.

It sounded particular, but like nothing that he had ever really heard before. The closest that he could put to it was the sound of two pieces of fabric rubbing against each other, but far louder than the equivalent.

And then it stopped.

He wasn't afraid, or even rather alarmed, but he was on guard because the last time he opened a drawer with noises in it, it turned out that the pony inside had swallowed some sort of rat and it had finally chewed its way free. That was a story to tell.

And so was this.

For when the drawer was opened, rather than the pristine, preserved corpse he had prepared, by himself, mind you, a day ago, he found, lying in a bed of soil and sand and old rags and dust, a rather old and yellow set of bones.

There was nothing quite surprising about it, of course, not to him. As plainly as it was to be described, was how Mr. Bowler reacted when he saw it for himself.

But gingerly, he reached out with a wizened hoof to touch one of the bones, and before him, the entire set flaked away piece by piece, and crumbled to ash.

Now.

Now there was something wrong.

Worth Searching For Pt 2

The school bell rang, signalling the end of a long day; the final minute of six cruel hours of learning, and the promised freedom of another evening.

The schoolhouse was small, as they were in the sticks, consisting of three or four classrooms in a long, wooden house, leaving space for a recess area out in the front. There weren't even separate buildings for lower and higher tiers of student, and in the end it all meant that mingling in the halls was unavoidable for very mixed classes of pony.

Budget constraints also meant that there usually weren't many teachers around. Those who finished with their classes were just as, if not even more, eager to leave and get about with their personal lives.

This left the flaking paint on the walls and the wooden cupboards which stood in as lockers to be the only constant vigils of the run-down building that served as the town's primary source of education.

The town itself, a quiet, misty place made out of grey brick and moss, lay somewhere in between Canterlot and Trottingham, along the rolling green hills and embankments of clover. It was the sort of place where every thatched cottage came with its own farmland, and everypony had some sort of specialty good to sell at the market, be it butter or pottery or wool for those cold winter nights.

The place was more of a small village, if we were to be completely honest, where the roads were not so much roads as dirt paths that were made by the process of having ponies trod on the grass until it died, and it served them well until now. The whole area was only called a town because its inhabitants just wanted to sound fancy, which was perfectly within their rights.

It was here in this unnamed town, at the ringing of the bell, when a small, bright yellow hoof stuck itself out of the door to class 3-C, and pulled its owner through.

Chatter in the main hallway died down, and most ponies who lingered behind suddenly found something very interesting to do inside their lockers, or something rather interesting to read on the wall which would take the exact amount of time required for Canary to walk past.

And with her book-bag slung over her back, and a vapid, uncaring gaze regarding the world, the young and fresh-faced Canary made her way down the rows of classes toward the exit, all others turning away from her and being suddenly distracted.

She didn't walk with much haste. She didn't have anywhere good to go that would benefit from her arriving there early. At the very most, she only wanted to be away from all those ponies ignoring her. Being ignored was a good thing; she enjoyed it thoroughly, but not when it was in the way that just gave her more attention.

But reacting to it... that was probably the worst thing she could do, she figured, so out she strolled, at her regular pace at her regular time, into the sunshine that greeted her at the main doors of the schoolhouse.

She blinked tiredly at the sun, looking upward at the sky and drawing in a ragged, expressive breath, and then turned to her direct right to take the side path home.

Her house was at the end of this side path, so-called due to the fact that it led away from the town center rather than toward it, and that was one of the reasons why very few ponies wandered down that way.

The other reason was because the path led its traveller past the rear of the schoolhouse, where the shed was, and if anypony would tell you anything, it's that the shed was not a place one would like to be after school.

Even now, as Canary trudged by, she could do nothing to ignore the fact that there was a first-grader being held up against her will in the shadows of the trees that lined the rear border of the school's boundaries, by a young colt named Fleece who was in the same class as her.

She narrowed her eyes as she plodded on.

"Alright, let's have it then," said Fleece, nudging the youngster in the haunch with his hoof.

"Please sir.."

"Go on, give it up!"

And Canary walked, just looking, circling around Fleece's back as she made her way down the path.

For just that moment, the youngling's eyes caught Canary's, and sent her a plea for help, for rescue, and for a saviour, a look that made Canary stop walking for just a short moment in that time and space.

"Eh? What's that then?" commented Fleece, as he turned around, noticing where the younger pony's eyes were going. "Oh, it's you."

That moment of distraction was enough. The smaller pony took to running, bolting from her position up against the wall of the shed, and making a mad scramble for freedom towards the other end of the building.

"Wha... Oi!" yelled the senior, spinning around to give chase.

And it was then; also, that Canary's horn flickered with magic, and she directed it towards the fleeing figures, sparks extruding from its tip.

A strange warm glow of light enveloped the four limbs of the running pony, like anklets of light, as they drew themselves toward each other all of a sudden, cutting their owner off from the ability of movement and sending her crashing to the ground.

Fleece came to a stop above the still and groaning body of the little first-grader.

"Heh," he said, turning back toward Canary. "Thanks, Jailbird!"

Canary didn't respond, save to continue walking. A glum and angry look crossed her face, but she kept it to herself, bowing her head down low as she continued onward home, each step just the one preceding the next.

But a noise of running from behind her made her take notice, and made her level of alertness rise a notch, although her head held straight and true, and she didn't bother turning to look. In a way, she already knew who it was anyway. It was the only pony who would bother to try to run after her in the first place.

Madeleine was her only, to term it loosely, friend in the entire town. She was her friend more out of convenience than anything else, and was the only other one who lived down this stretch of the way. They had grown up being neighbours, and over the course of the years, she had come to understand the pony who was Canary.

"Hey! Wait up!" she yelled, dust kicking up as she stormed down to catch up with the closing figure of yellow.

"What do you want, Maddy?" Canary asked, as she slowed to a walk by her side.

"I was watching back there," she said, huffing to catch her breath. "What was going on?"

"Nothin'."

"Come on, Canary! That kid got his bits stolen, you know?" Madeleine's curly, blonde hair bobbed in her gait.

"So what?"

"So what's that why didja do it?" Maddy said awkwardly, trying to string together a comprehensive statement.

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Doesn't matter!" snorted Canary. She was used to this sort of conversation with Madeleine by now. It wasn't the first time that Canary had done something quite odd and 'mean', which is what gave everypony that impression of her in the first place.

It was always usually the same sequence of events, too - starting with Canary's actions, and then Maddy's admonishment, and then some sort of back and forth tennis match between them while Madeleine desperately tried to make Canary behave in some way or another.

"It does matter," replied Madeleine, almost as if following a script.

"Why?"

"Because you should be nicer!"

"I was being nice!"

"How were you being nice? You helped that mean old bully!"

"Yeah? Stupid kid was running. That'd make Fleece mad, and when he gets mad he likes to hit ponies."

"I don't see what was nice!"

"Well, now Fleece just took the kid's money, and he won't beat her up. If he had to run after her, he'd have done both. I saved the kid a beating. That's nice, isn't it?"

"No, Canary, it really isn't!"

"You just don't understand!" came the tried and true defence of the child.

In the near distance a house appeared on the horizon, getting ever closer with each step of the pair of ponies.

"Well you could have stopped Fleece, right?"

"No, Maddy, then tomorrow the kid'd get beat, and have her bits taken, and I'd also be beat, and everyone'd be angry."

"I don't like it, Canary."

"Doesn't matter."

"You should have stopped him, Canary!"

"Well, you were watching, right? Why didn't you stop him?" Canary shot back, as they came to a stop outside the front gate of the house.

"Because I'm not strong like you, Canary. You have good magic. You can stop anyone you want. The bullies don't mess with you because they know you're strong. And you can help, Canary, with your magic, and your strength."

"I told you, I was helping."

"No, Canary," Maddy shook her head. "There's a good way to help and a bad way to help. You only do things the bad way. Sometimes you need to fight for the good thing."

"There's no point fighting! I told you this a hundred times!"

"Why not, Canary?"

"Because you can never win. Never."

"One day you'll see, Canary. You'll understand," Maddy said as she turned into the compound of her house. "Anyway, see you tomorrow, ok?"

"Yeah, ok. Bye, Maddy," Canary muttered, continuing onward to her own homestead which lay a bit further down the road.

Canary felt nothing particularly strong about any of this. What she did... was just logical, that's all. Nothing more than that. Justice was just a part of a hard life that was only good or bad depending on your perception, and in the end, things had to be metered out to keep the oppressors happy, or else bad things will become of everything.

And this was an ideology that she learnt, living in her home with her father. Even as young as she was then, already, the jaded facts of life crept into her mentality and her spirit, and dulled them on rocks. She now kept a lot of things locked away where she didn't have to think or feel about them, and that suited her just fine.

The words of Madeleine, her best friend, who constantly tried to steer her into the right direction, also fell hardly on the stone, and was akin to throwing eggs on a wall.

The walk home once again returned to the action of it, as she approached the run-down, shoddy cottage of her childhood.

The yard was unkempt, as was the fence; overrun by weeds and other sorts of pests. There were odd things placed in it, only disguised by the long grass which kept them hidden away because even the lawn itself was embarrassed to have an old, broken and dingy oven lying in it.

The gate didn't need opening, it had long since rusted in a permanently ajar position, and no one would bother entering a place like this anyway; all boundary lines were there just for the hell of it.

The only things that still worked were the windows and doors, and mainly they were to keep out drafts.

And young Canary felt a lump in her throat, as she always did, when she entered the confines of her house. There was an invisible barrier encircling it that, when she crossed it, caused her no end of anxiety of some form. She didn't know where it came from, herself, but she wasn't the kind for self-reflection, and preferred it to remain a mystery.

The front door was where she came to a stop, and habit had her halt to listen before nudging it open. The stark silence that greeted her on the doorstop meant that her father was either out or asleep, either of which was a relief to her.

And not a moment did she waste sneaking into her room and hiding behind the safety of the confines of her personal space, for all that silence was a bliss she knew would not last for long.

There was a time when fighting for the good of things was something that was still done around the house. Mostly, since she was still young, by her mother, who still would speak up against the late nights in which Canary's father would come home, and the terrible alcoholic vapours he brought with him.

About how he would do nothing all day and the kind of example he gave to their precious daughter.

Things like this that were said that slowly gave way to other statements.

Just go to your room and go to sleep, ok, honey?

I'm not crying, it's alright. Your father's just in a bad mood, that's all.

When your father gets back, don't mention the bruises, alright? Good girl.

You can never win, Canary. You can never win.

You can never win.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"These kinds of towns, they're good and bad, you know?" Canary said suddenly, looking up from the stack of large sheets she had in front of her. Scrolls undone lay in a pile on the drawing table, as she looked through each one to sort out which was actually relevant to their interests. It turns out that the mayor did, in fact, keep record, and all too much of it - from building plans to potential expansions to nearly everything built in the town ever, it was going to take a while to sort it all out, especially when you had to go back a number of years.

"What do you mean?" asked Blitz, standing over a flat table with her own set of scrolls. Her set was a little different; and she was arranging them in a peculiar order.

"There's a lot of heart in small towns. Lot of heart. Some of the best ponies in the world. Some of the worst, too. But so different in the way that a city is good or bad, you know? It's just... different."

"I must say, this is really quite unlike you."

"What?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you say anything that wasn't direct and to the point, and I think I might have had actual trouble trying to understand what you're saying here, Canary."

The policepony clicked her tongue with impatience.

"I can't explain it. You just gotta know. It's different. The ponies that come out of the city and come out of a small town. You just know where ponies are from because they carry their homes around with them."

"Well, that's psychology, isn't that?"

"Definitely not!" A bunch of papers rolled up and flew back to the wall, leaving one behind. "Here, grab this. It's for the pile."

"You still haven't told me why you hate psychology so much, Canary," Blitz said, bringing the remaining diagram to her table in her mouth.

"Nothin' sayin'," Canary responded.

"Well, that's alright. You'll tell me when you want to."

"Yeah, that's right, don't you forget it."

"So, which one are you, then?"

"Eh?"

"City pony or town pony? Which one are you?"

Canary dumped a new stack of scrolls on the drawing table, cocking her head to the side as she gave it a bit of thought.

"Neither," she answered.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The seasons left things behind, as they slowly shifted by. From Spring to Summer, from Autumn to Winter, and in the end, a house with one fewer member was the result of a many number of seasons passing in quick succession.

Or at least, it felt quick to Canary, for there wasn't anything holding the days back in remembrance or in the eager waiting of an upcoming date.

It had been a few years already when she came home to an empty kitchen or living room, already far used to the only other presence that awaited her in the run-down house. She had stopped calling it her home, and started to call it 'the house'; to her it was just someplace in which she shared quarters with a strange pony who stopped being her father before she was born.

It was now the sordid situation where they never spoke, never made eye contact, and simply just realised that their relationship was that of mutual understanding - in that her father owned the house and she bought room in exchange for helping out with the groceries.

But today was a special day.

It wouldn't be mentioned if it wasn't.

Today was the day she walked up the front yard of the other house that lay down the old side path, upon which she rapped sharply on the stony oak door.

The door which opened, as it would, and the surprised face behind it, also aged by the years, exclaimed in surprise.

"Well, ah... this is new," said Madeleine.

"Hi," Canary said, gruffly, looking at her as she came out from her house.

"Would... would you like to come in? I can put the kettle on..."

"No, it's fine. Could we just talk in the garden?"

"Yeah, of course, of course," she said, a touch concerned, shutting the door behind her as she trundled down to the open patch of grass that served as their yard. "It's... been a while, Canary."

"Yeah, it has."

"Are you in trouble? Do you need help?"

"No, Madeleine. I just came here to tell you something, that's... that's all."

Canary stared off into the rising sun, as it lazily arced over the lands of Equestria, bringing a new day to the world. It was far away, a place she was going to be part of very soon.

"What is it?"

"I'm leaving."

A bird called its lonely song, as it soared overhead.

"You're... leaving?"

"Yeah. I'm going away. Canterlot."

"What... eh..." her question faded into a sort of groan. There wasn't really anything she could ask that she didn't already know the answer to. Why? That was obvious. Where? She just said it. When? Probably now, or at least as soon as possible.

"But you're doing so well," Madeleine settled on. "It's been a while since we last spoke, I know, but... I've heard things. You've really changed since we were young."

"I know, Madeleine. Deputy Sherriff, who'd have thought, huh?" Canary commented, casting a wistful glance at the silver badge that adorned her chest. "But... I dunno. I just can't take it anymore."

"Is it the stress? You could always just get a different job..."

"It's not about the job itself, Madeleine. I like the job. It's the fact that... that there's one guy, just one guy who really deserves being arrested the most, but I can't touch him. And I can't take it."

A tired look of defeat passed by Madeleine's face, her eyes sinking with empathy.

"You... you have to let it go, Canary. You really do."

"I know, Madeleine! I know. It's not easy, alright? If there's one thing that I said to myself was that... that through this all, I was going to find a way to fight it. Fight what's good. Not turn into... you know. I remember... you were the one who told me all this stuff many years ago."

"Then why..."

"But I can't do it with him looming over me every single day! I can't live like this, with a constant reminder every single day I go home! So, I can't do anything, and I'm going to leave. Maybe with distance, I can finally forget. Maybe I can finally put it behind me, Madeleine."

"Well... if that's your choice, Canary."

"I'm afraid it is."

The winds kicked up, rolling across the gentle blankets of grass, creating rippling waves over the banks of green.

"Canary... why don't you call me Maddy anymore?"

"Where'd that come from?"

"Nowhere. Just... you don't call me Maddy anymore, like you used to."

"Well... it's not your name, Madeleine."

"No... no it isn't."

She wasn't entirely satisfied with that sort of answer; but then again, who could be? But that was just a sign of what Canary had become. All too rigid. All too much like concrete. In her efforts to be a better person, she had to brick up who she learnt to be.

"Well, thank you for letting me know, Canary," she said finally.

"Don't tell anypony else where I'm going, alright?"

"Alright."

They stared at each other, the two of them, eyes locked, for just a moment more, and then Canary turned, closing her eyes, and started off down the long journey that would take her to Canterlot. It was a long walk, and she had barely made it out of the gate when she heard a voice calling her from behind, just like she was used to hearing all those years ago.

"Canary."

"Yeah?" She didn't turn back.

"I don't know what's happened, Canary. I won't say I know. When we were young... I always knew you were good inside, Canary. Truly good. Not good just for the sake of proving that you can be. I know right now... you have something to prove. Something to show. When you leave, wherever you might end up... remember this. Don't give up on yourself. I didn't give up on you."

"You won't have to prove a thing to anypony anymore, Canary. But... I think you're still capable... of doing good. Of being good. And please, be well, Canary. Don't give up, Canary."

"Whatever," Canary said, and pushed through the gate.

"Don't give up," Maddy said to herself.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

"So why'd you become a cop, anyway?" asked Blitz.

"Why'd you become a... whatever it is you do?"

"Sculptor. And it's because I like making things. It's rather fun, and a good way to express oneself. Do you like... policing?"

"It's manure."

"Really now."

"Somepony told me, a long time ago... that I had something to prove."

"... and?"

"And that's it, really. I never understood it. Go figure it out yourself."

"You just don't seem to be the kind of pony who'd end up as a police officer, that's all."

"Oh really? Well, tell you what, little miss shrink, what kind of pony do I strike you as, then?"

"Bureaucrat."

"Oh you... you really...."

"I'm just kidding, Canary. Although, most ikkophobic, angry ponies do work in government."

"Yes, like Princess Celestia, I suppose?"

"Well... no, not her..."

"And the mayor of this town, too? So full of hate, that one."

"Remind me never to joke around with you, Canary."

"That'd be for the best. I don't have a sense of humour that I am aware of."

"See, now that was a pretty good joke."

"What?"

"Oh, right, of course."

"You know, strange you should mention government, though."

"What about?"

"Nearly ended up in it once."

"You don't say?"

"Yeah. Many years back."

"Well, go on then?"

"Go on... what?"

"Aren't you going to tell me the story?"

"You have got to be joking."

"Oh, no, Canary. I just learnt that I shouldn't with you, remember?"

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The castle shot up, like out of a fairy tale, each tower and parapet a mighty sentinel that stood guard over the entire city. Canary couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed. It was her first time in such a very large place, with all the buildings and the people, and the castle, oh boy, the castle.

She felt it was looking at her. She felt each brick was alive, and it silently judged her and gauged her every step, passing notes along down the hall to warn the other bricks of her impending arrival as she carried herself as regally as possible into the main chamber.

Being a unicorn from the country, she naturally took magic for granted; always finding it just a little bit more convenient than the others to do anything she needed, and as such she held back with it.

But here, she was amongst peers; amongst a land which glowed with magic that existed as a way of life rather than a skill to make a day pass a little bit easier.

And so fast did life travel here. Not only a day had she arrived in Canterlot, had she already found lodgings - albeit stuck in some sort of hostel where she shared a common room with fifteen other ponies whom she hated already for various colourful reasons - and did she make her way up to the castle to apply for the only one single job that made sense to her.

And what incredible luck, for it was 'today only'. Tryouts, the poster said, for Celestia's royal vanguard unit. The golden-clad ponies in handsome helmets and shining spats; the ones who represented the Princess and the entire city of Canterlot.

They were regal, and royal, and had the most important job in the world. At least, that's how it seemed to Canary, who had heard about them - and who wouldn't have - all the way in her tiny town up in the hills.

The vanguard! The ones who were held in such high esteem! The ones who were always around handling the problems that other mortal folk couldn't!

What a life it would be to be one, right? What an incredible honour.

So, what do they do?

Well, stand around, mostly. And not talk.

Canary didn't know that, at the time.

This led her to the main hall, where there were a whole bunch of extremely buff Pegasus ponies milling about, all socializing within small pockets here and there. A table, draped with velvet and purple, was placed in front of the staircase that headed upward to the Castle's higher echelons.

Behind the table was the object of desire; a pair of ponies, standing still as a frozen pond, gazes reaching out and slapping anyone who dared to walk by. Gazes hidden behind those helmets of gold. The dullness in their eyes hidden behind a suit of armour.

The floor quietened as Canary took her first steps into the room from the entryway. Chatter stopped. Hubbub disappeared. Most of the heads turned to look, and many voices started a whisper. It was all the two recruiters could do not to turn and look for themselves, but they had to obey the rules.

Canary almost felt as if she were back in school again, walking down the hallways of the classes where she once made such notoriety for herself.

But this time, her goal was to find that notoriety. Her goal was to be accepted as one of them; as one of these ponies who were judging her with every confident step.

She was clearly the only female there, standing before the shiny marbled floors of the main castle stairway - she was at least half the size of anypony else in the entire room, but wore upon her face a look of determination that rose up above her in wafts of mist.

It was a combination of these two qualities that made her audience quit whatever they were doing and stare blankly. When you need to make snap judgements, you tend to be derailed if there were two overpoweringly clashing elements in play, such as having the best fruit drink you have ever tasted before in your life and then looking down only to discover that it was actually a cupful of gravy.

Only her hoofbeats were left playing percussion on the floor as she strode up to the desk.

"I'm here to apply for the vanguard."

The guard to the left swallowed.

His eyes darted to his companion standing to the right.

"You want to... join the vanguard?" The helmet asked, slowly, deliberately.

"Yes, that's what this is for, isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am, but..."

"But what?" Canary spit out, eyes narrowing.

It was hard to keep one's voice down in a place like this, a huge cavern that was built, no doubt deliberately, to make sure that every tiny noise could be audible throughout the open space, and maybe even down a few corridors.

It didn't help that one was speaking with raised tones.

'How can I put this delicately' was one of the two phrases of the day running through the recruiter's mind at the moment. The other one was questioning the gods of chance as to why this pony in front of him had not picked his recruiting buddy to engage with rather than him.

"Ah... well, ma'am. The vanguard are formed of elite soldiers hoof-picked from across the globe."

"And?"

"And... amongst these other Unicorns that you see here in the hall... not even all of them might make the final cut."

"And?"

"There is the question of mental and physical prowess required to..."

"Oh, right, it's a female thing, is it?" Canary didn't bother to sugar-coat her own words, unbalancing the recruiter a little.

"Ah, well..."

"You're saying I'm not strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough? Because I'm a lady?" Canary shot the word 'lady' out like a bad piece of cheese.

"No, not at all, ma'am, I mean... we just don't get very many females applying... but for... logical reasons."

He was trying his best.

"Alright, let me tell you something. In the two minutes that I've been in this room, let me share with you what my mental faculties are capable of. How about that?"

"Ah..."

"For one, there are fourteen applicants in this room, not including myself. Bubba Joe there, in the corner?" She jerked her head toward a brown unicorn stallion who was leaning against a Victorian column of some sort. "He's not an applicant. He's one of you guys, isn't he?"

Fourteen heads suddenly turned to look at the stallion, who suddenly looked a bit nervous, and started to dart his eyes about.

"How did you..." asked the recruiter.

"You just told me," said Canary. "Also, when I came in, he was the only pony in the entire room more focused on someone else other than himself. He was standing alone, and his stance? Body askew, head turned to look. Defensive positioning. He doesn't want to be noticed. Compared to every other pony in here who is trying his best to make an impression."

The brown that masked the pony in question's flesh started to glow a bit red, as he suddenly excused himself from the room.

"Secondly," continued Canary. "That applicant sign-up form you have there in front of you? I believe one of the spaces there calls for gender. So obviously whomever first thought up of this lovely application progress didn't foresee a problem with sexism amongst their own personnel."

"It's an old form..." muttered the recruiter, weakly, his defences breaking.

"Thirdly, you're new, aren't you?"

"Ah..."

"Yeah, both of you are. Veterans don't get given desk jobs. Not to mention, they don't try to dissuade any pony trying to sign up for their organization, and they most certainly, most certainly, do not, without a doubt, ever, show signs of weakness when a lady decides to show that she has more hoof than they do."

"Well... I... I..."

"Finally, if it's experience you're worried about, I've been a Deputy Sherriff of a town, that's right, an entire town, for years. I have dropped crime like a cat off a hot tin roof, and I've even rescued a few cats from hot tin roofs myself."

The recruiter wanted to say something. Anything. He truly did. But the words would not form. They wouldn't even congeal into anything remotely appropriate for what was going on.

"And if you want me to prove my strength and capabilities on a physical level, I would be glad, and nothing would make me happier, if you and I could both step in a ring and see who lasts the longest. But I believe that would be a waste of time, and resources, especially by now I think you and I both know who will win. So either we can stay here and let me banter all day, or you could take your quill, keep your judgements to yourself, and fill in my application."

The room drowned with white noise. That sort of hollow sound you hear in caves or if you put your ear to a cup, it was all over.

After a very tight ten seconds, the sound of hooves clapping could be heard coming from one very pallid pony behind her, which stopped as soon as Canary turned to stare at whoever was doing that stupid thing.

The recruited cleared his throat.

"Ah... name p...please?" he dipped his quill in the ink, ready to jot all relevant information down.

It did not take that much time for everything to be wrapped up nicely in a little bag with a bow to go. Once professionalism had been offered, professionalism was given back in spades.

This was it. This was how life was in the big city. It was a place where you had to be so defensive that it was offensive. You had to be pre-emptively defensive. You had to pressure, and taunt, and poke your hoof in many holes to get away with what you wanted.

And all there was left was the one last hole to poke your hoof into.

"Alright, Miss Blue," said the recruiter, having finished all the details of the form. "We have one more step before we can allow you into consideration."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"It's just a psychology evaluation, miss. Everypony has to go through with it. It will take approximately half an hour, and you will just have to sit down with one of our psychologists, in private, and have a little talk. If you're ready, just pass behind those curtains to your left, please."

"Thank you. I shall be heading that way now," Canary nodded.

She swung around, noting, in passing, that two other ponies had left since her rant, and walked toward this annex which had a large, red velvet curtain drawn across it. Sniffing in her last breath, she pushed the veil aside, and stepped within.

- - -

"What do you mean, not accepted?!" screamed Canary.

"I...I...I'm sorry, miss Blue! But... your psych eval came back, and..."

"Is this some kind of play?"

"No, no, miss, it's completely legit. Not many ponies fail the psych eval, but there's a number of reasons..."

"Oh what, I'm crazy? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, of course... of course not... please stop shouting..."

"What is this psychology thing for anyway? Isn't psychology to weed out the nutters?"

"No, miss... really, it's not like that. The vanguard requires ponies who do not fall into certain... niches of mindset... and unfortunately our doctors have determined that you fall into one of those... niches."

"Well, he's wrong! I demand a retest!"

"I'm sorry miss, but... ah... we have a lot of ponies to get through today, and we can't make exceptions for any one pony. I'm afraid your application has been denied."

"I don't believe this," shook Canary's head.

"It's out of my hooves, miss. I don't want to start any trouble..."

"No, you know what? Fine. I'm leaving. I'm leaving your stupid boy's club, and I'm taking all that I have to offer with me. If you think this means I've given up, think again, buddy. I'll see you down the road, you can count on it."

"Please don't come find me..."

With an overly-loud 'hmmph', and the sound of hooves squeaking across floor tile, Canary stamped, muttering all the way about psychology and the amazing ridiculousness that it brought along, out of the main room and into the open lands of Canterlot.

Denied. Declined. Unacceptable. No matter how you spun it, it reeked of failure. Failure in a room where everypony could hear. A room where even special ponies could hear.

There did exist one spot in the room, one tiny, miniscule point where sound didn't run rampant into the ears of eavesdroppers. That point was a tiny alcove at the top, near the landing of the stairs that branched out to the right. A veritable sweet spot where one, if one were inclined, could stand in and hear everything but not be heard yourself.

Princess Celestia vacated this spot, and made her way, regally and royally, down the stairs.

Of course, all the bows and processions did come along with it, but the important thing was her curiosity surrounding this most recent of rejects.

"She didn't make it?" Celestia asked the recruiter, as he returned to an upright standing position from his kneel. It was a redundant question. She had heard everything since the first shout.

"No, my Princess. She failed the psych evaluation."

"May I see the doctor's notes?" Celestia said, neither frowning nor smiling, but expression locked in one of an itch that required information to be scratched.

"Of course, your highness."

The stack of scribbles in hasty writing shuffled across the desk toward Celestia, who dragged it over with the barest of efforts from her horn.

"Final prognosis," she read aloud, to herself. "Subject Canary, Blue, challenges authority and is unsuited for a life of regiment. While she displays observational skills and deductive capabilities on par with veterans, her nature of questioning everything will hinder both herself and the company she will be placed in. She is an individualistic character who thinks too much out of the box. She would be much more suited for life in an organization with more relaxed formalities. Subject Canary, Blue, is not ideal for inclusion in the vanguard."

"Very interesting," Princess Celestia concluded. "Might I keep this? This... Canary character... I feel I shall be meeting her again sometime in the future."

"Well, your highness, she did say she was going to run into me again down the road."

"Oh yes, of course. Of course. Ponies like her... can't stay out of trouble. For better or for worse."

"I still don't want her to come find me, Princess..."

"Oh, don't worry. I doubt your role will extend that far," Celestia smiled at the young vanguard recruiter.

,---(*< ~---,

'---------------'

The final pile of charts and maps and plans were filed back into their original spaces, leaving only five that had been deemed 'usable' by Canary. They were placed on top of one another, spread out, in order of yellow, denoting that they were, in fact, sorted by age.

"Alright, this is what we need, Canary?"

"Yeah, think so."

"That didn't take too long, did it?"

"Didn't it? Felt like a lifetime to me."

"Well, you seem to have been distracted by something all this while."

"Yeah... probably. Being back here in the country... brings back memories. Not all good."

"At least there were some good ones."

Canary stopped a while to consider that.

"No, actually, I think they were all pretty bad. But I tell you what, despite all of it, I still miss the country sometimes. Or maybe I should say I can't really escape the country. Seems to follow me around like a hungry cat."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was born in the country. Small town. Left. Went to the city. Became a cop. Got assigned to the country again. Then came out, re-assigned to Canterlot, and now, on what has to be the craziest and most irresponsible case of my life, I'm back in the Colt-damned country again."

"What would you call Cloudsdale?"

"What?"

"I was just thinking... place like Cloudsdale? Is it country or city?"

"I... I don't know. It floats, doesn't it?"

"Yesssss...?"

"Well... answers your question doesn't it? Can't very well be in the country if it's not even on the bloody countryside."

"... you know, it's remarkably refreshing talking to you, Canary."

"Shut up."

"So if you wanted to work in the country, why'd you apply for the city afterward?"

"Well, I didn't actually want to go to the country. I was supposed to go straight to Canterlot after I had graduated from basic. But something happened and..."

"And?"

"They refused to put me anywhere in the city. Told me I needed to get out there and learn things first. One day as a police constable, and I get my first black mark on my record."

"What could have possibly happened that would result in something like this?"

"I don't want to talk about it. It wasn't anything terribly bad, or anything. Nopony got killed or nothing like that. It just... caused me a lot of confusion. I don't like being confused. I've spent the last few years putting it out of my head. I don't really want to go back there again."

Canary winced, suddenly, like a migraine had suddenly decided that now would be the best time to make itself known.

"Damnit," she spit, under her breath.

"You ok, Canary?" asked Blitz.

"Yeah... think this whole case is getting to me. It's had me running around in circles since day one, you know? Everypony all wrapped up in this... for some reason civilians are involved, one of you is missing for Colt knows why, and I left my idiot of a partner up alone in Canterlot. It's giving me a headache, Blitz. A headache."

"Yeah, but there's a reason you asked me along."

"What would that be?"

"Figured you need someone to tell you that things'll be ok. So, things'll be ok," Blitz shrugged. "Everything's just going about a little differently. So let's get back to this, and let's go find that thing you're looking for."

"Yeah, you got it," agreed Canary, without thinking much on it.

"So... what are we looking for, anyway?"

"When I went to visit Princess Celestia earlier on, she was telling me how this Ouros fella used to mark down information for his next attack. Sorta like a prediction, I guess? Something or other. Whatever it was, the last time Ouros disappeared, so did his prediction. It was never retrieved. We're here to find it."

"But that was... how many years ago?"

"About a thousand and a bit. Just before the whole business with Nightmare Moon, apparently."

"How's this prediction supposed to still be around after a thousand years?"

"Well, before I left the castle, I got into this exact same thing with the princess. The only answer is... it's old magic. And old magic is powerful stuff. It protects itself, you know? Now with Ouros back again, Princess Celestia seems to reckon that certain forces of the universe or whatever crazy hokum old magic laws she was running off about will make the prediction found because it wants to be."

"I... see. And the maps?"

"Maps are gonna tell us where to start looking for it."

"But these maps go back two hundred years at best, Canary. There's an eight hundred year gap. How is this going to help at all?"

"Well, because Princess Celestia gave me something else," Canary said, as her saddlebag flap flew open, and a small rolled up scroll popped out. "And I think this little thing will take us right to the prize."