22 Years Later

A shoddy, pale brown structure was the only building that had managed to stand out in those lengthy years in Canterlot. Against the bright marble towers constructed around it, anypony passing through the area would catch a glance of the eyesore, its deviant features bordering on bizarre. Travelers that crossed through the glamorous city kept their distance from the shady appearance of the aging disaster, questioning just what type of business was conducted on a daily basis behind those large, wooden doors.

The lack of vacancy is what spooked civilians the most. A small handful of Canterlot's very own walked through those doors in the morning, afternoon, then eventually disappeared from the building at night. They were consistent visitors too, most likely employees for some unknown company. Even more conspicuous was the royal family's involvement. Princess Celestia's guards could be seen keeping a vigilant eye on the tower from afar, particularly when Luna blanketed the sky with her work, only brewing more questions from neighboring agencies.

Even the landscape around the foundation lacked the flair that the rest of Canterlot portrayed. The luscious, well trimmed grass covering most of the land in Canterlot never graced the office with its elegant presence. Instead, dry grass, whose color mimicked the walls of the building it surrounded, decorated the lawn. It crunched pathetically under the hoof of anypony who decided to trot through, each sickening crack in the grass praying for the moisture it surely deserved. Trees had long since abandoned the plot of land, and the worn concrete walkway that lead to the entrance of the building showed signs of wear and tear. Scratches from hooves and other materials paved the pony-made path. These scars ran along the entire length of the walkway.

Just outside the border of the monstrosity, and across the main road that led to such an awkward locale, appeared a small group of ponies. A commotion within the party trotting towards the foundation could be heard for blocks, over the many hills that adorned Canterlot's landscape, and through the windows of even the tallest towers that hovered overhead. Neighboring business and apartment windows opened up, pony heads peeking out from each one to inspect where the noise was coming from.

Forty or so hooves beat down on the well crafted road, most of the steps completely out of unison if the cluster of clopping sounds were any indication. The only sounds heard over the trotting were the hearty laughs of some of the bulkier stallions among the group. As the herd became easier to sight for the bystanders, their interest quickly began to fade.

"The ones from that strange place," one of them mentioned to herself before slamming her window shut.

==========

The music drowned out the sounds of the constant toasts that many of the employees made to each other. They quickly downed their drink, some of the lightweights already inebriated by the strength of the alcohol. The celebration had only been going on for an hour, and nothing but smiles were seen on everypony's face. Tunes echoed merrily out of the building's shoddy, half opened windows, chatter from the employees coherent during the downtimes between each song.

A light brown pony, whose vision and judgment were already beyond his immediate control, spotted a curious mare sitting at a desk, facing towards the crowd of party-goers that had been centered more towards the middle of the lobby. With a hiccup and another quick swig, he stumbled over to her, bumping into another colt that had drank himself into a similar stupor.

His vision and balance were depreciating fast, but were still enough to capture the appearance of the pony he was making his way towards. She wore a black, buttoned up coat that covered the majority of her body, hardly managing to capture her form underneath. The visible sections of her coat were of a dull, gray color, almost passable as white if she stood in the sunlight. Her deep red tail twitched when she saw him approach her. Her jade green eyes looked elsewhere to avoid his torpid stare. Her forelock draped itself over her left eye, covering it from view should one look directly at her. The rest of her mane running down her back was brushed over to the right side of her head, slightly curling back up at the end of it's length. The bridge connecting the two sections of her hair was covered by a peculiar black fedora, effectively keeping her ears hidden inside.

In her right hoof, dangling on a thick necklace that ran down her neck, was a magnifying glass, the one detail that the drunken colt used to finally recognize the pony and remember her name. Running along her flank was a similar looking magnifying glass, its lens shining against an unseen light in the distance.

"You're not getting away from this one, Scarlet!" he spoke a bit louder than she wished. "You should be," he hiccupped, "Should be the life of the party!" He slammed down the glass of vodka he had taken to her- and had taken several drinks from himself.

"Drink it up Trace!" another pony enthusiastically cheered on from the crowd.

"You deserve it!"

"Yeah, a round for the rookie heroine!"

The pony in the coat, Scarlet, let out a nervous smile to the rest of the group. "Sorry everypony, I don't really drink."

The music, as if on queue, suddenly cut off. "But you're-"

She raised a hoof to the mare who had tried to speak up. "No. I'm fine, really. And I mean...that's too," Scarlet momentarily stammered, sweat forming below the rim of her hat, everypony's attention drawn to her voice, "...I'm flattered, really, but it wasn't like I solved it all on my own."

Cases. That was Scarlet's job at the Agency. Here, in Canterlot, under direct control of the royal family- specifically Celestia herself- she was employed as a full time detective. Scarlet's mind ran through the case that had rattled some of the Agency's best for the past three months. The documents explaining the sudden death of the beloved mayor of Ponyville, the autopsy reports, a strange and seemingly irrelevant clue hidden by the twisted pony who had conducted the murder, and days upon days of heavy investigation of the crime scene left the office space in shambles.

"Tell us again Scarlet!"

She panicked at the growing crowd surrounding her. They hungered to hear of her amazing deduction that not even some of the finest detectives in Canterlot had considered. A rookie who had just managed to transition into her new job had toppled one of the most crucial cases in the history of the Agency. She wanted an escape from the group huddling around her, pestering her with remarks and questions concerning her work.

The party goers closed off the space surrounding the desks, desiring an explanation from the young detective. She backed up against her chair, tucking her magnifying glass into her coat while eyeing the gathering crowd, petrified. She was starting to suffocate from the attention.

A stray hoof wrapped itself around her foreleg. She quickly pulled away and looked in the direction of the offender. Her irritation quickly subsided when she recognized the deep red eyes staring back at her. He once again offered her his blue coated leg, his contagious, signature smirk stretching across his face.

"You look like you can use a breather," he calmly spoke over the blundering voices. Scarlet didn't hesitate to grab his hoof and pull herself out of her chair.

The drunken crowd recognized the silver key cutie mark on this peculiar pony's flank, quickly dispersing before any of them did anything they would regret. The music started back up with a lively jump, reviving the exuberance the blue pony had absorbed from the other employees' drunken advance.

"Detective Locks, thank you," Scarlet said as he escorted her towards the front door. She felt infinitely more relieved as she passed through the threshold and back onto the empty streets of Canterlot. "I assume we're heading to the usual?"

Locks turned around, his disheveled white mane swinging with his head. A single stripe of black ran down the dead center of his mane, which always caught one's attention. "Of course. I could use a cup, anyways."

Scarlet chuckled at the comment. If there was one defining feature of this excellent colt, it was the peculiar scent permanently attached to his coat. The alluring odor of roasted coffee beans always gave away his identity for her. Several times at the Agency, she would greet him without so much as looking up from her paperwork by catching no more than a quick sniff of his morning brew. During the pleasant reprieves they enjoyed from the heavy duty workload their boss enforced, Locks would take her out to their personal favorite hotspot.

The walk to the cafe from the Agency was always a calming one. Canterlot had a distinguished appearance to that of the crowded, bustling streets of Manehatten, or the cozy appearance of the more natural structures in Ponyville. It was much more stretched out than either of the other two cities, with sections of hills separating most buildings from one another. Almost every building was in the shape of a spiraling tower, many with stargazing equipment attached to the peaks. In the distance, from almost any point in Canterlot, one could see Princess Celestia and Luna's castle, where events such as the Grand Galloping Gala were held annually.

The lack of features along the hills didn't bother Scarlet. She was partially fond of the vast, empty lands that surrounded the citizens of Canterlot. Roaming about with Locks had to be one of her favorite pastimes away from her work. The sun beamed down waves of heat on the city, the light bouncing off of the blackened roads that lead towards the west district of town.

On the edge of this invisible boundary was a modest looking building, singled out from the rest with its unusual box shaped structure. Locks calmly exhaled when the sound of the bell tied to the door announced their entrance.

==========

The smell radiating from Locks' mug overtook Scarlet, sending her mind soaring through her history with the bold, young stallion. Locks rarely, if ever, worked alongside her on their assigned investigations, so his coffee induced flashbacks weren't a consistent occurrence in her line of duty, but there was something about the particular scent of his cup that screamed nostalgia from her intern days and beyond.

It was none other than the aroma of the fresh roasted coffee that called to her. Locks quizzically waited for Scarlet to speak up, aware of the glazed look in her eyes as she stared at his order.

"Scarlet...would you like a drink?" Locks politely asked her with a cocked eyebrow. He cleared his throat loud enough for some of the ponies sitting several tables away to hear, snapping his associate out of her trance.

"Oh!," she stumbled, "I'm sorry, what did you say, Detective?" Scarlet asked with a face decorated with embarrassment.

"Did you want some coffee? My treat."

"Oh no, Detective. I'm fine," she shook her head slowly, "besides, you drink enough for the two of us."

"True enough," he remarked with a prideful look. "Nothing wrong with being a coffeeholic. It helps me work." He took another look at the younger mare in front of him, his eyes focused on her unique fedora. "Funny how quickly things change, Ms. Trace."

"Excuse me, Detective?"

Locks took another sip from his mug, watching the brew swirl about in the cup after placing it back on the table. His eyes, steady and strong, peered right into Scarlet's jaded green irises.

"Every morning, I head to the Agency after my fifth cup. Steele gives me a new job, and I refuse to rest until I solve my case," he recalled in an uninterested, automaton-like fashion. "It's the way I've established how I work, and it's never lead me astray. Suppose I thought that it was just the way I was raised to deal with problems." He took another drink. "It bothers me if I can't solve a case, or find the meaning behind a clue; perhaps something in the evidence that guides me to the right direction. That was just the way it always felt like it was meant to be for somepony like me."

Locks looked down at his steaming coffee, watching the half and half he added during his dialogue melt into the stew in the center of the cup. "Then of all things to happen to change me at the Agency, of all of the criminals I've talked with, of all the arguments with Steele, and of the discussions I've had with Conroy...what made me evolve was when you showed up.

"At first, I thought you did work in the same manner as I have. I never saw you socialize too often like the rest of your group, just like me. You always had your head in a book, or looking over important reports, again, just like me. Amethyst would escort you to investigate scenes, you'd gather eyewitness reports and other intel that mimicked my own personal style. I never thought anything of it before.

"The one thing that bothered me about your style was so simple," Locks sighed, not straying away from her curiosity.

"You smile when you work."

Scarlet tilted her head to the side, puzzled at the remark. "I had no idea that there was a problem with enjoying your work."

Locks waved a spare hoof at the question. "In our line of work, I'd originally see that as concerning, to be honest." He gulped down the remainder of his cup, putting it down on the table loud enough for the waiter to hear. She casually trotted over to the two and poured him yet another serving, vanishing from sight as swiftly as she had arrived. He waved the steam to his muzzle, at peace for the moment. "We work in a very special area, Scarlet. I shouldn't have to tell you that. High profile murder cases, kidnappings, conspiracies turned reality; the stress included in having to deal with noxious maniacs on a daily basis eventually burrowed under my coat.

"When I have to interrogate loose-ended suspects, it disturbs me. I'm sure you can believe it? Twisted convicts who treat everypony like toys that can be manipulated, or controlled like pawns in their sick little games. Criminals who consider all life expendable, taking those beliefs into the realm of absurdity. It makes me feel like with every case I accept, that I'm doing nothing more than wading through another layer of filth."

He leaned back on the padding of the booth. "Now, the fact that these crimes consistently occur irritates me. I can't stand to even smirk when I'm looking over case files anymore. We lock away one twisted pony, two more replace him somewhere out there, amongst thousands who deserve nothing but good fortune for living earnest, humble lives.

"Scarlet, we've worked in the same building for nearly the same amount of time. What is it that makes us so different? How is it that you can still enjoy something that I've begun to loathe so much over time?"

The red mane pony pondered the question for a few moments, the chatter from the other handful of customers always created a perfect atmosphere for the two of them to discuss their work. Rays from the setting sun peeked in through the windows hovering above each stall of the cafe, coating everything with a faint orange tint.

She looked back at Locks with a half smile. "It was just the way I was raised, Detective."

Locks repeated her response in thought, chuckling while taking another sip. "I should've expected an answer like that from the 'Daughter of Justice'."

Scarlet gave an indiscreet roll of her eyes at one of the many aliases she was given at the Agency. "When's the last time somepony's called me that?"

"Months, I expect," he returned. "Laya's the name of choice now, right?"

"The popular consensus, yes."

Justice. Coffee. That unmistakably similar blue coat. Scarlet couldn't help but reminisce on it all...

==========

Many Years Ago

"Daddy, come here! I found something!" a high pitched voice ecstatically called out from the other end of the busy room. An aged colt with a fine, solid blue fleece trotted over to the filly, a shining smile masking the bags of fatigue he wore under each individual eye. His daughter's faded white body jumped up and down with a vast reservoir of energy.

The room was an absolute mess. What used to be a kitchen was now riddled with tossed sheets and a shattered chair. Water stained the countertops, and the pieces of a broken jar were scattered along the floor. Mud caked hoof prints stained the shoddy tile, and a beeline of crumbs made their way towards the base of the broken jar in the center of the room. The baby filly had a magnifying glass loosely wrapped around her foreleg, aimed at the jagged hole above the foundation of the container. A particular red string dangled near the top, wedged between the floor and the rest of the object.

"What do you think, Detective?" the stallion asked her, fulfilling his part in the role-play.

The glass tool hovered above the strand, doubling the size of the filly's eye as she investigated the clue. "It looks like...a hair?"

"Hair, Detective?"

The young pony gasped. "Hair from the cookie thief!"

"Hmm," the blue colt pondered. He encouraged his daughter, "What color is the hair, Scarlet?"

It was a simple question to answer for the child. It's color shined in the kitchen lighting, "Red...just like-"

The colt smiled at her shaking voice, her exuberance evident as her young mind began to piece the scenario together.

"Our suspect has red hair too! Which means...!"

Filly Scarlet peered over to the den. A single couch was positioned with its back facing her gaze. A shuffling sound was heard from the other end, followed by a mess of a faded red peaking over the edge. Scarlet dashed ahead of her father, her speed forcing her to peel around the arm rest as she skidded over to the other room. A pair of violet eyes stared back at her, widening with surprise as Scarlet leapt onto the mare with gusto, the young pony invigorated that she had tackled another exercise successfully.

"Momma! She stole the cookies from the cookie jar!"

==========

Conroy was just about finished taking care of the disaster that he had personally arranged in the kitchen. Scarlet was quietly sitting at the dining room table across the room, watching her father work.

His strong voice demanded her attention. "Scarlet, do you remember why your mother and I do these practices for you?"

Scarlet glanced back at him. "You told me before, daddy." She wiggled her flank with a smile on her face. A large magnifying glass shined brightly in an unseen light, decorating her pale coat. "I'm gonna be a great detector!"

"Detective, sweetie."

"Defective!"

A rough hoof swooped down and ruffled up her fresh mane. "And how do you feel when you solve the practice cases?"

Scarlet stared up to the tall figure, her innocent little smile gracing his faded green eyes. "It makes me happy," she responded.

"And why does it make you happy?" he continued with a grin.

She looked back at him for brief moment. "Because it's fun! And," she jumped from her seat, running up to Conroy and nuzzling him against the base of his neck, "because it makes you and momma happy."

A flood of warmth spread through the colt. He returned his daughter's affection with a kiss on her forehead. Reaching up to his head, he lifted a dark black fedora, revealing his light engulfing raven black hair underneath. After shaking his mane loose, he tossed the hat towards Scarlet. It landed on her head with a bounce before swallowing her down to the bottom of her eyes, effectively hiding most of her rosy colored mane.

"I want you to wear this from now on," Conroy spoke through his daughter's giggles. She explored the inside of the accessory as he continued, "Can you do me a favor or two, Scarlet?"

She used a hoof to lift the rim of the fedora high enough to completely see Conroy's face.

"I want you to remember what you said just now. I want you to never forget why you said it, okay?" He placed a hoof gently on the hat. "And I want you to wear this as a reminder of it."

She let the hat bounce back down over her head. Her grin stretched across her face. "Don't worry daddy, I won't forget it! Ever!"

=========

Present

Scarlet had the exact same hat resting in a single hoof as she showed it to Locks. It's strong black color had aged from wear and tear, and it lacked the luster that it brilliantly displayed when Conroy wore it years ago.

"I wouldn't expect any less from Justis," Locks remarked after Scarlet's small story. He took a long, drawn out drink from his mug. "Always one step ahead of the Agency. A real clever bastard."

Scarlet was unaffected by the phrase. Treating Locks' words as a complement was something she found to be more affective; The way he respected another pony, from her experience, was utterly based upon how often he insulted them, and the library of terms he used whenever Justis' name came up was simultaneously extensive and vulgar.

"He enjoyed coffee too, you know. Almost as much as you do, Detective."

"It wouldn't be a surprise if you worked in my unit. Don't you remember who it was that accepted me into the organization?"

"Right." Scarlet let out a sheepish laugh, "Dad's the reason you and I are even here right now."

"I think it worked out very well in the end, don't you?" Lock tossed several bits on the table near his dry mug. "His coffee fetish eventually dragged me in. Next thing I knew, I'm drinking up to ten mugs a day.

"Guess you can thank him for that curse," he playfully spat out.

"Detective", Scarlet followed the colt as he pulled himself from their booth, "Can I ask you something?"

"Absolutely," he responded over the jingle of the front door.

"When I finally got accepted full-time, I stopped seeing my dad as often as I had during my internship," she tightened her black coat in response to the chilly, late afternoon breeze in the air. "When I wasn't there, what was he like?"

Locks turned to Scarlet in mid-walk with a devious smile. "He was a total slacker." Her shocked expression compelled him to continue, "As in, compared to Steele, I mean. His methods always felt surprisingly straightforward, and somewhat...lazy." Locks' stride dropped to a snail's pace. "Steele would have us seal off entire blocks of a crime scene and investigate every single last grain of dirt on the pavement. Justis? He'd stroll up to the witness, if any, and with a single line of questions, he'd make more progress than we could in the entire day dusting off pebbles." Locks quickly ran a hoof down his black forelock, "He'd even sneak out of an assignment every now and then to visit you. That's just how those two worked though. Steele analyzes everything under the sun except for the parties involved in a case. That was Justis' field of expertise."

"He always was good with others," Scarlet noted. Locks shook his head in contempt, coaxing her. "Isn't that what you meant, Detective?"

"Not exactly, but now that I actually think about it," Locks turned back to the direction of the Agency, "You grew up with him, so you've probably never noticed it."

"Would you care to explain, Locks?" Scarlet asked, the suspense grating to her patience.

Locks cleared his throat. "My pleasure. Recall basic pony biology, Scarlet. What's the difference between the major three categories?"

A pair of pegasi zoomed overhead at a blinding speed. Scarlet lifted her head to the sky, envying their raw ability of flight for a brief moment. The delivery mares disappeared beyond several buildings, heading north to the district housing the royal families.

"What makes each subspecies of pony distinguishable is the disposition of their magic...which is reflected by their biological features."

"Correct. Ponies born with wings and cloud manipulation, for example. Pegasus magic is manifested directly in their wings and hooves, hence their abilities to control the atmosphere. You also have other ponies, whose magic is concentrated completely into their horns. This concentration of magical energy allows them to cast simple spells that allow them to control their immediate environment in a plethora of ways. Enhancements, telekinesis, and alchemy are just some of the abilities that unicorns can master. It all goes into greater detail, of course, but these are just the basics we're establishing."

Scarlet nodded at his explanation. "101. Then there are the ponies like the two of us. Our magic is placed as an untraceable potency with earthly elements. Ponies focused in agriculture or seasons have testified to have the ability to "feel" a certain "language" of the land, which they say contributes to the success they have in their career paths. Locks, I understand all of this, so what does any of it have to do with my father?" Scarlet brought the conversation back full circle.

"Justis," Locks began, "you may not have really thought about it, but he's a special pony. No potency with agricultural businesses of any kind. I doubt he could even keep a single rose alive." Scarlet's narrowing eyes amused him as he continued, "My point is that he had zero potency with this "earth" element disposition. However, there's another area that earth ponies can understand that doesn't involve any type of agricultural foundation."

"Another disposition other than nature, Detective?"

"It'll make sense with a bit of practical thought, Scarlet. Ponies are a subsection of natural elements too, aren't they?"

"He was potent with...ponies?"

"Exactly. He had an aptitude with others because he could "feel" a language similar to farmers." Lock stretched his legs and neck to loosen himself up while he talked. "It became obvious to me during my induction. The way he'd handle a testimony was phenomenal."

"So he was an investigator with incredible speaking skills. What does-"

"Scarlet," Locks almost laughed, "He could "sense" the truth in ponies. It's why Steele valued him so much."

She stopped walking. "I don't-"

"You won't. That's what I mean," Locks interrupted, "You grew up with him." Locks' gaze suddenly felt distant, as if he was recalling a memory. "Talking with Justis always doubled as talking with a lie detecting spell. No matter how hard a pony tried to hide it, the truth always found a way to be pried from their very lips."

A long pause broke the conversation in half. Locks pondered, "Scarlet, did you ever get away with a fib as you grew up?"

Scarlet's fedora shuttered against the wind. "I've only ever tried once or twice, admittedly. My dad always destroyed my resolve before I could get it all out, though," she laughed.

"And that's why Justis was so valuable to the agency. That's something Steele himself personally informed me of." The light coated pony pulled his mane back and donned a fake angry expression. "Truth is synonymous with Justice."

Scarlet mocked the ridiculous impersonation with a laugh loud enough to grab nearby attention.

"Not good enough? It's reasonable. Comedy is not one of my elements-"

A hoof stuck itself to his lips, forcing him to cease the charade. He beamed underneath the appendage as silence filled the air once again. A deep rose and jaded green clashed against each other as Scarlet spoke.

"Relax, Locks. Now, can you escort me back to the office? No more of this talk for now."

Locks placed one of his own hooves on hers, moving it away from his mouth. "Scarlet Trace, it would be my pleasure," he bowed his head.

A silhouette of another pegasus swooped by overhead, the shadow stretching across the pavement with the descending sun suspended in the sky. A single brown feather waltzed with the wind before gracefully drifting towards the two. It landed gently in front of the pair, gathering their undivided attention. The two of them looked back towards the skies. A single, solitary pony with long, flowing dark hair hovered high above them. Her thick, brown coated legs and large body dropped quickly to the ground, her wings neatly tucked at her sides following her rough landing. Her royal purple eyes focused on the pair.

"Amethyst?" Scarlet called to her, the identity of the winged pony given away by the beautifully crafted silver shield adorning her flank. In hindsight, Scarlet couldn't help but notice there was something important missing from the pegasi's features. "Amy, where's your-"

A shrill, ear puncturing noise exploded from behind the couple. Scarlet jumped, spinning around in a panic with a yelp accompanying her shock. Her coat came undone, her heart racing and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Locks had been mostly unaffected by the ambush, fiddling with his ears to rid himself of the obnoxious ringing sound left by the shriek of a whistle.

"Jessica," Locks greeted without bothering to turn around. "Didn't think they'd send you too."

An eerie giggle confirmed the newcomer's identity. Scarlet shook at the sound of the familiar pony's creepy laugh, only just now realizing that her special fedora was missing from her head.

"Jess, give it back," she muttered with irritation smearing her demand.

Her black fedora spun circles in the air above the mare. It twirled around her long, sharp horn, teasingly gliding down her bright orange mane. Her forelock was swept to the side, dangling lifelessly from the edge of her head. The hat rolled on down her dark, pitch black coat before hovering right above her equally energy deficient tail. Her matching orange eyes mocked Scarlet's glare, her glistening smile garnering everypony's attention. The sunlight reflected off of a familiar small trinket wrapped around her neck. A small, silver whistle jingled with each of Jessica's tiny movements. The magic surrounding the helpless accessory faded, leaving the fedora to land directly on her flank.

"You want it? Come and get it, baby," Jessica taunted her while swaying her behind in front of Scarlet. The detective grimaced, a free hoof trying to create room between her face and Jessica's rump.

Locks gave her a long stare. "Steele sent you, didn't he? I'm positive that fooling around while on the job is going to upset him."

"Hah!" Jess laughed, the hat springing back to life. It spun around the entire group. "Blowing off some steam is exactly what the old man needs to do," the hat landed right on her head, "I'm doing him a service."

"I find our jobs more pleasant to deal with without him screaming in my ear," Locks tried to convince her.

"Besides," Jessica ignored him, "If playing with a hat is avoiding my work, then what would you call this?" She hummed obnoxiously amongst the pair as her mind went over the millions of possibilities. "Ahh," she practically moaned, "Now THIS is interesting. Scarlet, baby, I didn't think you were into the stiffs."

She moved uncomfortably close to Scarlet's body, Jessica's face rubbing up against the side of her own. Scarlet twitched at the contact, stopping only to realize that her hat was within grabbing distance. She used the chance and shot a hoof out towards her back, snagging the hat in her hooves before retreating towards the ever silent Amethyst.

"Whoa there," Jess smoothly called, "Take me out to a nice dinner first, Scarlet."

"We were off duty," Locks changed the subject, "There's nothing Steele can-"

"There's ALWAYS something Steele can get you for, Locks," Jessica noted. She trotted blissfully to the front of the party. A sudden burst of wind indicated that Amethyst had taken flight to guide them back to the office. Scarlet held onto her fedora to prevent another theft, her jacket flapped viciously as the gust the pegasus created ran through the material.

Locks flicked his tail. "That may be true, but truancy won't be one of those reasons. I'd suggest you and Amy take us back before his patience completely fizzles out."

The whistle wrapped around Jessica jumped to life, rocketing off of her body and landing perfectly around Amethyst's neck. With a soft blow of her beloved whistle, Amy led the small group back to the office.

"It looks much better on her anyways," Jessica commented. "And don't you worry about Steele, Locky. I can deal with him however I please. I'm the only one that knows how the old timer ticks."

Scarlet shuddered at her ghostly voice. Jessica Scrawl was the jokester of the Agency, always ignoring orders and fooling around with client and agent alike. That unsettling look the dark colored unicorn would give her fellow employees, colt or mare, gave Scarlet the impression of a hungry succubus. Her advances on Scarlet herself were especially awkward, the harassment never failed to test her nerves.

One problem with the entire deal involving Jessica would be her incredible skill set. Steele refused, time and time again, to fire the mischievous imp for a certain set of reasons. Scarlet herself could never pull much information from the spooky jester, but if Locks' own research held any merit, Jess' only recorded history prior to her employment was her connection to the royal families living in northern Canterlot.

An uncontrollable enigma, and probably one of the best scribes Scarlet had ever met in her life, the talent imprinted on her black flank. It was a simple picture of a sharp ended pencil, scribbling desperately on a blank scroll. Every inch of the Agency was an archive of records from past missions, including witness reports, testimonies, incredibly detailed sketches of clues and settings, as well as mug shots of suspected ponies. All had been done by Scrawl's will. Jessica's magical prowess always astounded Scarlet; watching her sketch, note, and transcribe interviews all at the same time always bewildered the detective.

Jessica's body bounced with each step, her form an endless tank of energy. It contrasted greatly with the dead weight her mane and tail dragged in each individual strand, save for the rich color that matched her irises. She turned around, feeling Scarlet's presence crawling on her skin. A sparkling smile bathed Scarlet in uncertainty as Jessica turned back to the road in front of them.

What really scared the detective about this mysterious mare was her mastery of a specific unicorn spell. She had never seen it herself, since they rarely worked together, but those who were unfortunate enough to be besides Jessica in the field compared her to a specter.

"She'd disappear from plain sight. There's no way at all to detect her," Scarlet recalled one stallion note after a single night with Jess. This, coupled with her devious behavior, especially towards Scarlet and Steele, always put Scarlet on edge.

Amethyst held a constant vigil on the pack down below. She bounced about in the air slowly, matching the ground pony's pace perfectly. Her capabilities in the sky were always the last thing in the group for Scarlet to doubt, right behind Locks' skills out in the field.

Amethyst was an interesting pony that Scarlet had met on the first day of her job. She had two jobs for the Agency: She spent a majority of her time protecting the building with several other guards. Having wings really helped her out for the position, giving her an easy method in which to circle the structure with ease. It was a simple job, one that didn't require much active thought, considering that so much of the general populace of Canterlot refused to tread nearby. In the case that an intruder ever did, and the record shows, break into the Agency for any reason, Amethyst would be the first to alert the entire block.

The silver whistle wrapped around her neck jingled, a soft sheen reflected off of its polished surface. Her giant wings kept Amethyst afloat under the clouds, low enough for her to survey the group from a safe and reliable distance. Her whistle was the key. When blown ferociously, as Jessica demonstrated, it made a shrill, ear piercing noise. Used in combination with her flight and maneuverability, it made her perfect for immediately alerting the ground soldiers. Even without the rest of the policing force of the Agency, Amethyst had also proven throughout her history that she was fully capable of handling a challenge solo.

Her body build wasn't exactly voluptuous like Jessica's. She was built strong and fortified, akin to a sturdy brick wall, while still managing to hold a firm grasp on the curves that made her out as the mare that she was. Her hair flowed freely in the wind, long and winding down near the lower half of her forelegs. Her light brown coat was smooth, made aerodynamic from the numerous flights she had taken through the years of her employment. Her wings, for that matter, were incredibly powerful and large, with an endurance and determination mightier than the raw strength she could charge into a well spaced buck.

Amethyst's hawk-eyes scanned the area down below. The wind kicked her forelock into her muzzle, but her determination to relocate her pack refused to falter. She spun around, balancing herself as she peered to the gray sidewalk. She spotted Jessica's color scheme several wing flaps behind. She bobbed in place like a lure in a lake while the party down below caught up to her hurried pace. Scarlet was shying away from another advance from the joker, while Locks kept mostly to himself, trying his best to ignore Jess' antics. Amethyst broke face, letting her lips curl up before shaking the smirk off her face.

Her second job was of a questionable difficulty, but something she seemed to enjoy the most in her line of work. The whistle on her neck was fantastic at alerting others during the investigation of a crime scene. Not all suspects preferred to play mental cat and mouse games with Locks, Scarlet, or the other handful of detectives on the job. Runners were a fairly common occurrence, and Amethyst was the number one pony on the job to hunt them down from the skies. Like a Griffon, she prowled above the clouds, hunting down her prey when they were unfortunate enough to fall into her line of vision.

Her whistle made the perfect tracking system. It informed the ground troops where the culprit had dashed off to, giving them ample time to regroup and pinpoint the runner's location. She quickly learned of another use for the clever weapon, it functioned as a perfect panic button for those who went into hiding. Ponies too anxious to escape wouldn't be able to contain themselves as the alarm drew closer to their hiding place, drowning them out and back into the open, where the chase would continue for as long as they desired: Amethyst's endurance was still a wonder begging for discovery to the organization. During her entire career, she had yet to completely lose track of the perpetrator.

The troupe still hadn't caught up. With a free hoof, she lifted the whistle to her mouth and bit down to keep it in place. Realizing that their attention wasn't on her, she locked her lips around the instrument before screeching down at the trio. Their pace sped up, indicating that the message was well received.

Amethyst was powerful, protective, and dedicated to her job. It was as if she was designed to be a bodyguard unrivaled by any other. The color of her eyes matched her name, glowing with an ethereal aura that permeated nearly everypony that met her face to face.

With another whistle, she hurried the group along, the three below responding by speeding up into a full trot. Scarlet's coat flapped wildly against the wind, the ends of her coat slapping against the edge of her flank. Her cutie mark continued to flash in and out of eyesight during what was now their gallop. Amethyst pulled out further ahead, still blowing her whistle to alert the pack.

Scarlet tightened her coat with her mouth, getting a quick glance back at her cutie mark. She couldn't remember a single time that she hadn't had her mark, not even as a young filly. Another memory was recalled from her younger days.

Special ponies came around from time to time. The media would cover their ability, trick, or whatever it was that made them stand out above the rest. Though she never truly knew how it felt growing up, her parents eventually shared several saved newspaper clippings and pictures from articles dated back to her immediate birth. One picture in particular was engraved into her mind as a priceless memory: Her mother, exhausted but beaming with glee, holding her tiny baby daughter in her hoofs. The wrappings that once held Scarlet together were tossed aside, sprawled out along the leg rest of a chair that Justis was standing next to. The two parents stared at their child with warm, unguarded smiles, the newborn resting peacefully in her mother's arms.

It was there at birth, ready and waiting for the world to see. She had a cutie mark, the very image she wore proudly at present. It was an event that, at the time, stunned the world. For weeks, nothing but harassment followed her parents around, proving difficult for Conroy and her mother to work and support the young Scarlet.

She always figured that this unwanted popularity- of course, she had to admit that it was intriguing for the time; it was history in the making for many ponies- was the prime reason that her father moved the family from Manehatten to Canterlot before she even knew how to walk. It had to be the only logical conclusion that Scarlet could manage to think of. Conroy was a famous sleuth by that time, employment was always the last issue on their family's mind. He'd find a job without much problem regardless of where they wound up.

Scarlet didn't get the chance to let her thoughts wander any further. The sounds of the doors to the Agency creaking open snapped her back to reality. Amethyst stopped above them, perching on a walkway placed on the roof of the building. She looked down at Scarlet, her expression emotionless, before waving a hoof to hurry her into the Agency. The detective pony sighed, putting on a grin before following up behind Locks.

The doors swung open with an ominous creak, the lack of music and lighting proof that the party had moved on elsewhere. Alcohol and a peculiar, heated scent mixed together in a snout cringing blend that forced Scarlet's hoof over her nose. Jessica's coat worked as a camouflage with the setting, her hair and eyes the only traits that kept her somewhat visible in the darkness. The hum of a magic spell caught Scarlet's attention, Jess' horn pulsing with a faint purple aura.

"You lovebirds have a date with Steele," her voice cooed while she started a shoddy cleanup effort. "The old geezer is waiting for you in his office."

Scarlet looked over to Locks, nodding for him to lead the way to the hallway ahead. The sounds of a haunting tune Jessica sung faded as they approached the entrance to the hall.

The Agency had a very easy layout to navigate. Directly behind the front door was the main room. The murky gray walls were hidden away behind the seemingly endless rows of bookcases that wrapped around the room. The workspace in the center was completely box-shaped, with desks neatly lined up for use by all of the employees. File cabinets had been placed against the back walls on each side of the main hall, copies of various common case files stored for a quick and easy reference guide whenever needed. On either the left or the right of the room were additional hallways designed with pictures of the finest workers throughout history that the Agency had to offer. The offices placed in these halls belonged to group managers or detectives a tier higher than those that worked in the main hall. Other rooms, like lounges or bathrooms, filled up the void at the end of each of these hallways.

A staircase spiraled upward to the second floor from the end of either hall. The second story to the structure deviated very little in appearance or function from the first floor. The stretching out halls of the second story mirrored the first floor perfectly, as well as the main room. The center hallway exposed in the back of the main hall for the second floor, however, was meant only for the patrol officers. Their own special lounge was housed in the back of this hall, and a staircase leading to the roof of the building worked as a secondary entrance for the Agency's pegasi. Ideally, most of them were placed on the second floor because of this additional entrance.

The hall Scarlet and Locks walked down was barren of doors, pictures, and furniture. The stale, graying walls stretched towards the other end of the building, opening up and revealing a row of doors, five in total, lined up in a row in a large area.

The two doors on the furthest ends of the room belonged to the top detectives currently employed at the agency. In this case, and with their records, Scarlet and Locks both owned one of these offices. Scarlet's office, which was on the left, was situated right next to another door with large, attention grabbing letters above the handle that read, "Jessica Scrawl".

The office next to Locks' had become vacant, and belonged to the company vice president. Above the handle, in modest lettering, the name "Conroy Justis" had yet to be removed. In the dead center of the row, the final door, belonged the office of none other than the leader of the Agency: President Steele.

Scarlet took a deep breath, expecting a quick yet painful verbal beating from her boss. He was vicious, generally unforgiving, and a colt whom she believed valued the dignity of the Agency over all else, including its workforce. He was notorious for letting ponies go, even some of the finest, off of minor code violations.

Celestia help you if you ever locked eyes with that monster.

Locks raised a hoof and tapped twice on the wooden barrier. A gruff, tired voice was heard on the other end, the exact words muffled by the thickness of the door.

"Come in," the voice invited, giving the detectives the green light to enter his office. Their boss' domain was cramped. Much like the main room, the walls were covered by a series of filing cabinets and bookcases. A sleek, brown desk housed several piles of stacked paper work, and a large ink bottle with a stained quill. A dark, purple curtain covered a large window that hung over the back wall, blocking out the light from outside. A series of chirps from the crickets near the window confirmed that the sun had finally given way to the rising moon.

A fairly large colt stood behind the desk. His coat was a cold, icy gray color, with a mane and tail stained white by his unforgiving age. His hair was in a dreadful condition, his worn down appearance emphasized by the huge sacs under his faded green eyes. Across his neck was a bright white collar that clashed against his coat's scheme, with a deep red neck tie hanging right underneath his chest. On his flank was an image of a manila folder, cramped with a pile of papers. Next to this intimidating creature was a familiar black unicorn, merrily scribbling away on a roll of parchment. Scarlet noticed the seal of Princess Celestia on the note. It then dawned on her that somehow, Jessica managed to reach Steele before either she or Locks could.

She felt uneasy recalling Scrawl's stealth skills. Unless there was some secret to the way the building worked, the only way for Jessica to have reached the boss was to sneak by the two ponies and dart into the office, which would be impossible since the door never opened before they had done so.

In hindsight, it shouldn't have been so surprising to her. Jessica was an age old veteran here at the Agency. Scarlet could only conclude that Jess had lurked the entire building at one point or another. With the exception of Steele, and perhaps Amethyst, Jessica probably knew the foundation of the building better than anypony else.

"...Well being of the Agency, I will do all within' my authority to ensure that the issue is resolved completely," the same voice continued from before.

Jessica looked back at Steele. "Excellent sir. Now sign here," she presented the levitating scroll to her boss.

He grabbed the quill from Jess' grasp, quickly jotting his signature on the parchment. "Now send it."

"At once, Mr. Steele," Jessica saluted sarcastically. Using her magic, Jess rolled up the letter and floated it right next to the curtain. Steele only had time to brace himself before the roll fired through the curtain as if shot from a cannon, ripping through the fabric and shattering the closed window. The whistle the roll of paper made as it whirled through the air silenced the insects outside.

"Get the hell out of my office," Steele growled at the gremlin after a short pause, her giggling all that could be heard from the mare skipping away into the main hall. Her figure quickly vanished into the stretched out walkway.

The weak lighting from the firefly lamp hanging from the ceiling shimmered. Steele looked at the fresh hole in the window and sighed, walking to the front of his desk to avoid stepping on any glass that may have fallen into his office. He looked over to his two most prized detectives, his irritation with Jessica not giving the couple a good foundation to start on with their boss.

"I called you clowns in over two hours ago," he began.

Scarlet tried to reply, "I can explain sir. We-"

"I snuck Scarlet out during the festivities, Mr. Steele. Responsibility for our tardiness is on my hooves, not hers."

Steele lets his mind wander, giving the ponies some time to breathe. "Nice try, maggot," he blurted, "Scarlet has a brain. She consented to your invitation to leave the office. Responsibility for your actions belongs evenly to the both of you."

Locks snorted at his failed attempt to lessen the blow on the mare. "My apologies, sir."

"Mr. Steele, forgive us for being late. I had just completed my assignment. I didn't consider the possibility that you'd call us in so soon."

Steele's voice was already rising. "It's an occurrence, 'Detectives'," he emphasized the last word, "Having me sit here and wait for you to get back is a waste of MY time. I don't give a damn that either of you managed to complete your cases today."

'Locks finished his case?!' Scarlet thought to herself, stealing a quick glance at the light blue pony next to her. 'He just started it yesterday!'

"If the two of you weren't personally affiliated with Conroy, I'd have kicked your sorry flanks to the curb for this. This company has zero tolerance for ponies who like to loaf about. Consider it your only warning."

Just then, a whistle chirped in through the hole in the window. The beating of giant wings could be made out as well, the gust they kept summoning forth causing the curtain to drift. The whistle called again, not frantically, but enough to grab Steele's attention.

Their boss cringed, still staring straight at Scarlet and Locks. "Everything's okay, Amethyst. Scrawl just decided to donate half of her paycheck to the Agency."

Scarlet winced at the punishment. Jess loved getting those nice, fat checks that Steele dished out biweekly to his top employees. She wasn't the type of pony Scarlet wanted to be around ever, but seeing Scrawl angry was something she never dreamed to entertain. Another whistle from outside came in through the gap, much softer than before.

"No one's hurt," Steele replied as if he understood, "Now get back to your post before I write up an occurrence for you too."

Amethyst's whistle rang quickly before she took off, the curtain finally dropping back to its stationary position.

"Scarlet. Locks," Steele cleared his throat, "There's only ever one reason I've ever had to call you to my office. The two of you have new assignments to deal with." He walked back to his desk, careful of fragments of glass. In the center drawer, he pulled out two thin manila folders, placing them on the table and waving the detectives over.

"You two have been in this Agency for how long now?"

Scarlet's voice was uneasy, "Uh...including our internship, sir?"

"The better half of a decade, if my memory is correct, Mr. Steele," Locks answered mechanically.

"Correct, Locks. You've both been around long enough to understand the intricacies of the Agency. Do I need to inform either of you what this symbol means?" His hoof tapped on one of the folders. Their eyes traced where his hoof pointed, right on the tab. There, in plain sight, was the same insignia that was on the roll of parchment from earlier.

Locks' eyes jolted for just a moment. "The Seal of Princess Celestia, sir."

"Exactly. And what cases do we have here in the Agency that have this symbol?"

Scarlet was beginning to understand what Steele was planning. "Un...unsolved case files, sir," she stammered out.

"Scarlet. Locks. You two have seen some of the most difficult cases that have come to our doorstep in the last ten years. Some of them you personally have worked on. It took this Agency a ton of effort and thousands of financial resources to get through all that you've witnessed until today.

"Having said that, I feel that the time has come to finally put your skills to good use," he tapped on the folder to the left, next to Scarlet. "These two cases were hand chosen by both Princess Celestia and I for the two of you to attempt to solve." He pushed the folder over to Scarlet, who eyeballed the digits on the tab next to the symbol. "Scarlet, I'm assigning you Case #075-283."

Locks expression froze as the number registered in his mind. His head suddenly burned red hot, his eyes flaring in the spur of the moment. He quickly took control over his emotion with a heavy gulp, letting Steele finish.

"The entirety of the assignment requires a 'Dedicated Full Scene Investigation, Scarlet. You're required to take immediate action concerning the case starting tomorrow. You are to relay any information to me via messenger pegasi, magic delivery, or if available, dragon mail. Do I make myself clear?'

"D-dedicated...Full Scene Investigation...right, understood Mr. Steele," Scarlet barely managed to say. The term was easy to understand. All it meant was that the case occurred somewhere outside of Canterlot, in a region inconvenient to travel back and forth to. She was required to set up a location to treat as her central office, and stay within that boundary until the mission is complete. Only for relevant case information was anypony allowed to move beyond those borders.

She quickly glanced over the first page of the file, Jessica's writing detailing the summary of the case. "Ponyville? My mission is in Ponyville?" Scarlet's surprise momentarily washed away her anxiety. A peaceful small suburban area like that was the last place a crime should take place in. The mayor case she had just solved was the first instance in years of any occurring activity.

"Of course," Steele replied, "That's where the assignment originates from. Read the summary to understand."

Scarlet's eyes flew through the document. It was a simple case, which struck her odd that it had gone unsolved for so long: It was a "missing pony" assignment, the difficulty of the mission was displayed by the date it was created. The case had gone unsolved for decades.

'Whoever this pony is, they've been able to hide themselves incredibly well,' Scarlet thought while blazing through the thin file. 'No records. No name. No occupation, no description. The only evidence of disappearance is a sudden drop of a single pony value in the Annual Equestrian Population Census.'

Several dozen signatures were at the bottom of the first page, which Scarlet had briefly returned to. The names written here were the names of those ponies from the past who had taken control of this case- and failed to solve it. Reading off the names of many big name ponies of yesteryear, Scarlet couldn't help but freeze at the final one:

"Conroy Justis" was written in plain sight at the very bottom of the document.

Steele cleared his throat. "I want to make one thing very, very clear, you two. This job has the potential to be very dangerous, and the Agency cannot be liable for anything that may happen to you guys if something goes wrong.” Scarlet and Locks felt the tension in the room thicken, “Because of the gravity of this scenario, I’m making this mission optional. It’s your decision to take these files open yourselves.”

Locks immediately responded, “I’ll take on any mission you assign to me, sir.”

Scarlet looked away, hesitating before she responded, “Yes, Mr. Steele. I accept the case.”

“Very good, detectives,” he looked towards Scarlet, “Do you have any questions before your deployment, Trace?"

Scarlet looked back in his general direction. "I...I understand the assignment sir. I'll leave in the morning."

The young mare's mind was racing wild. 'Ponyville? A pony missing that not even dad could find? This can't be the same case...that...' She shook her head, tilting the fedora over her eyes to hide her emotion. 'Maybe I'll talk to mom about this before I head out.'

"One more thing," Steele halted her from leaving, "Ponyville isn't renowned for its living space, and there aren't any hotels in that area that are close enough to be considered DFSI. However, we found you a temporary post for the duration of your mission. The local town librarian volunteered to house you in her living space. She's already been informed of your arrival by the royal family."

"Ponyville librarian?" Scarlet pondered. The archive in her brain didn't take long to identify the pony in question. "The Element of Magic?"

Steele ignored her question. "Good luck, rookie. You have all the time in the world to complete this case. Don't let the Agency down."

Scarlet dropped her head before making a quiet exit from the room, shutting the door behind it.

Locks made sure to give Scarlet plenty of time to leave. A quick succession of hoof steps approached Steele. A light blue hoof grabbed Steele from his desk, pulling him around before shoving him into the nearest filing cabinet. Papers stacked on the cabinet trembled before falling over from the impact. Locks' hoof kept Steele trapped between the files and his wrath.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" Locks' asked. Though his eyes and body trembled with rage, his voice was still as smooth and as calm as when he was back at the cafe.

"Locks," Steele's voice was incredibly thick with irritation, "Do you realize what you're doing?"

"What I'm doing right now isn't important, sir," Locks eyed the closed door, "I'm more concerned with the possibility that you lack a soul. Just what the hell are you thinking?"

"So you're aware of the case too, huh?"

"Didn't you see her face?" Locks pulled Steele by the tie before slamming him against the cabinet again. "Everypony knows that case number! What kind of a pony are you, sir? This is sick!"

"Locks. You don't know what you're doing," Steele told him, "Stand down. Immediately."

"Give her case to me. NOW."

"Locks," Steele warned him, "STAND. DOWN." He looked into Locks' red eyes with a heart piercing gaze. "Do NOT forget your place here." With a grunt, Steele managed to shove Locks off of him. Locks backed away, and though his glare was weaker now, the fury in his gaze refused to fade.

"The Princess and I chose these missions for a reason. Rest assured, Locks, that I'm not doing this as a kind of twisted prank."

"Then give her case to me! I can't understand why she's the one who has to deal with...HIS work."

"Trust me Locks," he straightened his collar and tie as if the confrontation never happened. He reproached his desk and tapped on Locks' folder, "We've heavily considered our options."

Hesitating, Locks reached out and took the document. He opened it up and began to read his summary. "Sir, I don't understand. Case #587-847? That case doesn't even exist."

"It does now," Steele commented, tapping the folder again.

Two distinct signatures adorned the list of previously assigned detectives. Locks' almost stopped breathing when he read the names. "Steele...and Princess Celestia?"

"Too many factors interrupted the royal family and I in solving this case, Locks. It's difficult to handle when your best resource runs a nation, and you're too busy trying to train hundreds of rookies at the same time." Steele approached the young detective, "However, these two cases I've assigned are unique. The Princess and I don't quite understand it yet, but we believe there's a significant link between the two. We feel that the further you two manage to progress in the assignments, the more possible it will be for the answers to be uncovered for at least one of these mysteries."

He tapped Locks on the shoulder before turning off the lights. The room was covered in almost complete darkness now, save for a weak light from the shattered window. "You will stay here in Canterlot for this mission," Steele continued while grabbing a nearby suitcase, "I want you to follow the same protocol as Scarlet. I will personally be analyzing the data you send my way during your investigations, and will be presenting my information to the Princess herself for discussion."

"I understand sir, but," Locks closed the folder and looked in the direction of Steele's voice.

"What's the problem, Locks?"

The young colt's eyes narrowed, "Mr. Steele...this case is a murder investigation."

"And...?"

"Conroy Justis was not murdered..."

Author's Notes:

Hello. I'm a fairly new author around here, and I'm just throwing my little story into the swarm here. I'm still kinda fresh at this whole setup, so if there's issues or errors, I'll be more than glad to patch up what I can and improve on future chapters.

Please leave any feedback you have. I thrive off of it, and I can only improve with constructive criticism. I'd definitely appreciate anything you readers have that you can throw at me.

The first two chapters will be released simultaneously, so Chapter 2 should be readily available right after this one. It'll have the same Author's Note, more or less. I'll be doing what I can to pump out chapters on a consistent basis, so check back once in a while. I'll be doing my best to issue release dates for each individual piece, but I won't have anything concrete until after I get back to work from publishing these first two.

Either way, here's to a hopeful start of a story I've been workin' on. Cheers!

- Garnet Rose