Octavia sat in the cafeteria of the Pinkieton Manehattan headquarters, across a table from Melody Maker. The elder mare had spent the last several minutes reading over a document while the agent sat quietly, resisting the urge to fidget in her seat.

Melody reached the end of the last page and let out a long sigh before folding the document back into its binder. “That was a very... interesting report, Agent Octavia.”

Octavia bit her lip as Melody went on. “I do believe this is your first case where the culprit has gone unaccounted for. Has any sign of Curtain Call been found?”

The agent shook her head. “The local authorities are still searching the river, but they’ve informed me that after a couple of days the likelihood of finding a body markedly decreases.”

“Indeed. I am also concerned about the sightings of Con Mane you mentioned.”

“We were unable to find any evidence whatsoever that Curtain Call had an accomplice.” Octavia paused and seemed to be collecting her thoughts.

Melody raised an eyebrow. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ in your next sentence.”

“...But we also weren’t able to determine how or when Curtain Call met with Con Mane, if she ever did.”

Melody sighed and rested against the back of her seat. “I see. So our old friend manages to strike back from beyond the grave.” A small smile crept across her face. “Why am I not surprised?”

She looked down at the binder containing the report, then used her magic to levitate it into a suitcase lying on the table. “Very well, then. I suppose the Pinkieton Detective Agency has done all it can here.”

She rose out of her seat and looked across at Octavia, gazing intently at the agent. “Why don’t you take some time off? Agent Scratch informed me that this case was particularly hard on you.”

“I’m fine!” Octavia said quickly, then blushed slightly and cleared her throat. “I am perfectly capable of continuing my regular duties, Ms. Maker.”

“I’m sure you are,” Melody replied, chortling. “But I need you to be at a little better than merely ‘capable.’”

The sound of muffled shouting suddenly met their ears. They looked around, trying to place the noise and determining that it was coming from outside. The shouting only grew louder the next moment, and Octavia and Melody Maker shared a glance before the agent jumped to her hooves and ran for the exit. She raced down the secret passageway and past the bookshelves out into the lobby, where she turned towards the front door.

Vinyl, Sharp Eye, and Watt Sun were already standing on the front stoop, watching something outside. Watt Sun had one leg wrapped in a thick cast and lifted slightly off the ground, with a small crutch attached so that he could still walk around, while Sharp Eye had a forehoof tucked around one of his. Octavia stepped up next to Vinyl and looked down at the street to see three stallions tussling in the middle of the intersection, trading blows and trying to wrestle each other to the ground.

“What’s going on?” Octavia asked.

“See for yourself,” Vinyl said, pointing across the street. Octavia looked and saw that one of the pizzerias on the intersection had changed its name once again, this time to “The One and Only Famous Neigh’s Pizza.” She looked across the intersection to see a sign reading “This Is The Actual Neigh’s Pizza.” The third one, which had a ladder in front of it as if somepony had just finished putting up the sign, said “The Only Worthwhile Neigh’s Pizza.”

Octavia blinked, then turned her gaze back to the stallions fighting. A couple of police officers were already galloping down the street, one of them blowing a whistle as they approached, but the pizza makers seemed not to take notice, instead continuing to throw punches. A crowd of onlookers had already appeared, and Octavia even noticed some ponies poking their heads out of windows in the buildings above, looking down to see what all the fuss was about.

As the scuffle went on, Octavia turned to Vinyl. “You know what, I’m starting to think that there’s really no point to themerse.”

“Oh?” Vinyl replied, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

“Yes. This city is bizarre enough as it is.”

Along the shore across the river from Manehattan, a single boat rumbled down the river. It was a small motorboat, with the initials “MPD” printed on the side and a searchlight affixed to the front. It floated silently, bobbing up and down atop the waves, its light scanning the shoreline intently. The beam cut through the darkness of the night, revealing the twisted remnants of a factory resting on the shore. Steel beams jutted out of the water or poked out of the partially collapsed roof overhang the rubble of the building.

The searchlight swept across the shoreline a few more times before the officers on board finally stopped. The motor roared to life and the boat took off, continuing downriver where it would certainly stop a short distance away to scan another section of shoreline.

As silence fell and darkness reclaimed the factory ruins, there was movement amongst the rubble. Curtain Call’s head poked up from behind a large sheet of metal that had shielded her from the police boat’s sight. She let out a breath and rested on the muddy ground, looking out across the river at the twinkling lights of the Manehattan skyline. She was still too exhausted to move very far or even use magic. She curled into a ball, shivering as she wrapped her hooves around herself.

There was a sudden clatter nearby and Curtain Call’s head shot up. She scanned the ruins, but saw no one. “H-hello?” she called out. “Is somepony there?”

There was silence for a long moment before it was broken by the sound of hooves trotting against the ground, growing louder as whoever they belonged to came closer. Curtain Call ducked behind a pillar, waiting to see who emerged. A figure stepped into the small clearing in the middle of the ruins, barely visible in the moonlight.

It turned out to be somepony very familiar to her. There was no mistaking that tan-coated unicorn stallion, with his brown, slicked back mane, doughnut cutie mark, and tuxedo and red bowtie. Curtain Call leapt out from behind the pillar, crying out, “Connie!”

Con Mane turned to face her, smiling at the mare. “I see you’ve survived. You’ve passed the test then, and with flying colors, I might add.”

Curtain Call began to trot forward to embrace the stallion, but stopped short. “Test?” she asked, tilting her head. “What test, Connie?”

Con Mane smirked, adjusting his bowtie. “You see, Ms. Curtain Call, I haven’t been entirely straightforward with you. I’m something of a... talent scout. And we’re looking for somepony to play a part in a great performance. Quite possibly the greatest performance in the history of Equestria. Even greater than what you’ve already done.”

“Another performance?” Curtain Call replied, her eyes growing wide. “An even greater one?”

“Oh yes,” he answered, taking a step towards her. “If you play your part right, ponies all over Equestria will be talking about this one for many years to come.”

As Con Mane took another step closer, Curtain Call noticed his eyes flash green. Suddenly his body seemed to undergo a transformation. His horn began growing longer, turning black and curving to a sharp point. His coat seemed to fade away, replaced by a layer of jet black chitin. Holes appeared in his legs and transparent blue wings unfolded from his back, buzzling rapidly. Con Mane’s smug smile remained as fangs extended from his mouth and his eyes turned into a single shade of solid blue. Curtain Call backed against the pillar, too petrified to make a sound while the creature continued to advance.

The creature made a strange, rattling snarl before he was engulfed by a flash of green light. As it faded, Curtain Call found herself looking upon a different stallion, this one with a white coat and a cutie mark of a black musical note, looking incredibly similar to one of the mares who had chased her out of the theater. He too had a spiky mane and tail and wore a set of purple shades over his eyes, only his hair was neon green rather than blue.

“Heh, not my most original disguise, I admit,” Feedback said with a chortle. “Still, like my queen once said: ‘When in doubt, just remember rule number sixty-three.’”

Curtain Call still had not spoken, instead staring, mouth agape, at the figure before her. Feedback held out a hoof towards her. “So, what do you say, Curtain Call? I think we will have use for your abilities.”

Vinyl and Octavia sat besides each other, overlooking the lights and bustle of Thyme Square. It was early in the evening and a pleasantly cool breeze swept between the buildings, chasing away the heat of the day. Both ponies were sitting on a set of bleachers that had been placed at one end of the square, giving passersby a chance to stop, rest their hooves, or just sit and watch.

Octavia inhaled deeply before slowly letting out her breath, feeling far more at ease than she had in the last several days. With no hint of any trouble, she and Vinyl had taken to doing a little sightseeing around Manehattan and they kept finding themselves passing through Thyme Square.

There was something inexplicably compelling about Thyme Square. There was virtually nothing about it that spoke to the rest of the city; it was little more than a glamorous facade that distracted one from the darker corners of Manehattan, much like a stage light focused on a theater set. And yet, despite the superficial nature of the place, the gaudy signage, the corny street performers, the multitude of brand names staring down from every corner, and the fact that no local would want to be caught dead here, there was something oddly comforting about Thyme Square. Perhaps it was the sea of fellow ponies that crowded the streets, staring slack-jawed up at the signs or taking pictures. Perhaps it was the bright lights which seemed to draw everypony in, leaving nary a shadow even in the darkest night. Or perhaps it was simply the iconic nature of the place. It was awe-inspiring and yet at the same time strangely familiar.

“You know, it’s kind of a shame,” Vinyl said.

“What is?” Octavia glanced over to see her friend staring at something in the distance. She followed her line of sight to a theater marquee, which was advertising the return of themerse to Manehattan.

“Curtain Call could have been an amazing director,” Vinyl said. “She had the talent and she even had a few connections. If only she hadn’t become so obsessed with it. Maybe if she had had a better mentor or something.”

“You mean somepony who wasn’t so thin-skinned?”

Vinyl smirked. “Yeah, something like that.” They lapsed into silence for a moment before she continued. “So, how are you feeling?”

“You keep asking me that,” Octavia muttered. “I told you, I’m fine. Really, I am. I’m just...” She trailed off, closing her eyes and putting a hoof to her forehead. “I’m just uncertain, is all. There were a few too many questions left unanswered in all of this.”

“You thinking about Con Mane?”

“Please don’t mention his name,” Octavia groaned, burying her face in her hooves. “It’s bad enough I have to keep seeing that idiotic smirk of his in my nightmares.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Vinyl said hurriedly. An awkward silence fell between them for a long moment before Vinyl spoke up again. “Of course, you know that it couldn’t possibly have been Con Mane.”

“Because I killed him?” Octavia mumbled.

“No, because if it had actually been him, this wouldn’t have been nearly so easy.”

Octavia looked up and gaped at Vinyl, who stared back with a blank expression for a long, silent moment. But then Vinyl’s mouth curled upwards and a snicker escaped her lips before she dissolved into laughter. Octavia shook her head, but couldn’t suppress a smile of her own.

“So what about you?” Octavia asked. “What are you going to do now that New Wave’s production has been shut down for good?”

“Well, all the themerse work in town kinda dried up, in case you didn’t notice. It’ll come back, I’m sure, but I’m starting to think I’m a bad luck charm. I mean, I haven’t even heard from Feedback in days.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised you would want to keep working in themerse after everything we went through.”

“Are you kidding me?” Vinyl said, her face lighting up. “After everything we’ve seen it do? No no no, we need to get ahead of this thing. In fact, we should try to be the ones to introduce it to Canterlot! Think of the music shows I could do with this!”

Octavia laughed. “It never changes, does it? No matter what we go through, it’s always about the music for DJ-PON3.”

Vinyl threw back a cocky grin. “It always is.”