Vinyl Scratch, Watt Sun, and Sharp Eye followed Octavia inside the pub. The cellist headed straight for the bar and took a seat in front of the counter. The bartender was quick to notice her and trotted over. “And what can I get for—”

“Give me the strongest glass of scotch whiskey you have,” Octavia said firmly, slamming several bits on the counter. The barkeeper raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, instead dutifully obeying Octavia’s request. Vinyl, Watt Sun, and Sharp Eye sat beside her as she raised the glass to her lips and took a long, steady drink.

Vinyl looked around at their surroundings. They were in a loud dive bar, populated almost entirely by ponies who were listening intently to a radio broadcast of some game being played over the loudspeakers. There was some sports memorabilia hung up on the walls, such as jerseys and balls, and nearly everypony was drinking beer and eating greasy bar food. What stood out about this crowd was that nearly all of them were clad in blue and white pinstripe jerseys or dark blue caps, save for one table that was made up entirely of ponies in red and white clothing.

“Octy, you never come to places like this,” Vinyl commented. “What’s going on?”

Octavia set the glass down on the counter. Vinyl noticed that half of the scotch had already vanished down her friend’s throat. Now that she looked more carefully, she noticed the cellist’s hooves trembling against the glass.

“What happened to the fire?” Octavia asked quietly.

“Fire? Wait, what fire?” Sharp Eye replied, looking confused.

“The fire!” Octavia snapped, startling the others. “The fire that mare cast! The one that nearly burned down the entire theater! What happened to it?!”

“Octy,” Vinyl began, her tone wary, “there wasn’t any fire.”

Octavia whirled around, staring at Vinyl with shock. The DJ edged away slightly, shrinking before her gaze. “What are you talking about?! You were right there in front of her when she cast that spell!”

Vinyl was now looking increasingly alarmed. “What are you talking about? What spell?”

Octavia stared at Vinyl for a second before grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her vigorously. “In the theater! The mare we were chasing! The one who broke your goggles!”

Vinyl shoved her friend’s hooves off of her. “Octy, what are you talking about? My goggles are right here!” She opened her saddlebag and pulled out her signature purple shades, which looked perfectly unharmed. “I just took them off ‘cause cops don’t like it when you wear them indoors.”

Octavia stared at the purple shades in Vinyl’s hoof, her mouth hanging open. “But... you were in the theater with me...”

“Octy, I was never in the theater. I heard some noises and I came inside and found Hitchcolt in his office, with this nasty cut on his leg. I helped him out, called Watt and Sharp here, and then I heard some yelling on the street and came outside to see you being dragged off by the cops. There wasn’t any fire and I didn’t chase anypony.”

Octavia slumped against the counter, staring off into space for a moment before picking up the glass and draining the rest of the whiskey. The crowd in the bar groaned loudly to something heard over the radio broadcast, save for the red and white clad ponies, who whooped and applauded.

“Octavia,” Watt Sun began, speaking slowly and clearly phrasing his words carefully. “When we took Hitchcolt back to his hotel, he told us that the masked mare who attacked him set off a cloud of smoke. Maybe... maybe you smelled the smoke and just thought there was a fire?”

“I know what I saw,” Octavia retorted with such forcefulness that Watt Sun flinched.

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence. Around them, the other ponies in the bar were listening intently to the game. The Pinkietons overheard the announcer proclaiming that one team had scored before there was a chorus of groans from the blue and white clad ponies in the bar. The table of ponies in red and white cheered loudly, with one, a green-coated stallion with red hooves, standing up and shouting “LET’S GO, RED HOOVES!” before his companions clapped rhythmically. This was met with a great deal of boos and catcalls from the other patrons in the bar.

Vinyl finally spoke up. “Look, Octy, for what it’s worth, I think you’re telling the truth. I know you too well to doubt you. But that doesn’t change the fact that there wasn’t any fire.” Octavia was silent, staring into her empty glass.

“Aw, go back to Horston!” The Pinkietons looked up to see many of the ponies in the bar catcalling the group of red clad ponies, who were yelling and hollering right back. Everypony, looking quite inebriated by this point, was getting rowdy.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Vinyl muttered, grabbing Octavia and pulling her off the seat. The cellist glumly obeyed, allowing herself to be dragged out of the bar. Watt Sun and Sharp Eye silently followed. They got outside just in time to see a basket of hay fries splatter against the inside of the window, leaving behind a smear of ketchup. Soon, there was an assortment of condiments and fried food decorating the windows, concealing the brawl within.

Sharp Eye let out a huge yawn as she sat in Pinkieton headquarters the next morning. She rubbed her eyes, the memory of the previous night still fresh in her mind. Vinyl Scratch sat across the table, her goggles pushed to her forehead as she looked over the case notes from the police files. Sharp Eye stifled the next yawn that came.

“Here you go.” She looked up to see Watt Sun offering a steaming mug of coffee to her. She smiled and took it as Watt sat next to her. Sharp Eye leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. Visions passed through her mind of the stallion wrapping his hooves around her, burying his face in her mane, kissing her along the neck and rubbing his hooves across her coat as she giggled softly...

“Hey, Octy—Woah. Are you al... uh, I mean, mornin’?”

“Oh well. So much for that,” Sharp Eye thought to herself, opening her eyes to behold a disheveled grey-coated mare trudging into the room. There were dark circles under her heavy-lidded eyes, her head was drooped, and her every step was sluggish. She slowly drew up a chair beside Vinyl and sat down heavily, reaching across the table for the teapot.

“I think you’re gonna need something with a little more caffeine,” Vinyl remarked, using her magic to levitate the mug of coffee Watt Sun had brought for Sharp Eye across the table and into Octavia’s grasp. Watt Sun raised a forehoof and opened his mouth to complain, but the words died in his throat as Vinyl gave him a sharp glare. He held his hoof in the air for a moment, his mouth still open, before giving Sharp Eye an awkward glance and getting up to make another cup of coffee.

Octavia merely stared into the black depths of the coffee mug for a moment before raising it to her lips and taking a long sip. She grimaced at the bitter taste, but it was clear the coffee was already having its intended effect. She let out a long, slow exhale before taking another drink.

“Another rough night?” Vinyl asked. “You gotta get used to the city noise at some point.”

Octavia stared at her cup. “I couldn’t sleep. ...nigh... nightmares,” she mumbled.

“Sorry, what was that?”

The cellist bit her lip and twiddled her hooves around the mug in her grasp. “I couldn’t sleep because I kept having nightmares.” She glanced up at the others sitting at the table. “What about you? Why aren’t you guarding Hitchcolt?”

“Oh, he skipped town,” Sharp Eye answered, accepting a new mug of coffee from Watt Sun as he returned. “After we got you back from the police, we went to Hitchcolt’s hotel and got him on the first airship to Los Pegasus. He’s probably back in Applewood by this point.”

“Do you think he’ll be safe there?” Vinyl asked.

“Safer than he is here,” Watt Sun replied. He started fumbling around with his bowtie, looking around in confusion. “Hey, have you seen my badge?” The others shook their heads.

“Anyway, we’ve been talking about last night, and I think I know what happened,” Vinyl said. “I think you did see a fire last night, like you said. ...But that doesn’t change the fact that there was no fire.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Octavia snapped.

“Hitchcolt mentioned something very interesting back at the hotel,” Vinyl answered. “He said that when that mare attacked him, his typewriter kept making noise even though he wasn’t typing. He said he tried calling for help, but the mare was casting some kind of spell on the doorway that kept you from hearing him.”

Octavia was silent. She had forgotten about the sound of the typewriter in everything that had happened afterwards.

“Now, that’s a pretty advanced spell for your typical unicorn,” Vinyl continued. “You really have to know your illusion magic to pull that off.”

“So?”

“So, I’d say that there’s only so many unicorns who can do that, and most of them are in themerse.”

Octavia looked up at her friend. “Are you telling me that what I saw last night was just an illusion?”

“Not just an illusion, the best illusion!” Vinyl exclaimed. “What if the pony we’re looking for is a master of themerse? Somepony who learned from the greats, and now is using that skill to try and kill them? Somepony who can project incredibly realistic illusions?”

“Vinyl, I’m telling you, I could feel the heat... the flames, the smoke...” Octavia trailed off with a shudder.

“Dangerously realistic visions,” Vinyl added.

“But... this is good, this is good,” the cellist murmured. “This narrows down our search. Now we just need to find a unicorn who worked with New Wave, Curtain Call, and Hitchcolt. Then we’ll have our pony.”

She looked up to see Vinyl, Watt Sun, and Sharp Eye share an awkward look. “Yeah...” Sharp Eye began, “that’s kind of the problem now.”

“What do you mean?”

“We spoke with Hitchcolt before he left,” Watt Sun explained. “We asked if he, New Wave, and Curtain Call worked with anypony else. He said there were some stage hoofs, a few writers, but no unicorns. Nopony who could do what we’re talking about here.”

“So then we checked all the unicorns who work for Hitchcolt, to see if they ever worked with New Wave,” Vinyl added, gesturing to the police files sitting in front of her. “But they all check out.”

“Maybe we’ve been going about this the wrong way,” Sharp Eye offered, scratching her head. “Maybe it’s some kind of crazed fan who’s obsessed with themerse and wants to kill off famous directors?”

“But Curtain Call wasn’t a famous director,” Vinyl pointed out. “How do you factor her into this?”

“Maybe... she knew something?” Sharp Eye said uncertainly. “I don’t know...”

“So, if I’m hearing this correctly,” Octavia muttered, “are you saying that we have nothing to go on?”

“...Yeah, that sounds about right,” the DJ answered.

Octavia groaned and planted her face on the table. Vinyl patted her on the shoulder. “Look, we shared what we know with the police. The MPD is planning to assign security to every themerse star in the city, in case there’s any more attacks. We can at least offer to help with that while we figure out what to do next.”

Octavia considered this for a moment. “I suppose it couldn’t do any harm. But we will need to be inconspicuous about it.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Vinyl assured her. “It’s gonna be totally undercover.”

“We're so glad to see so many of you lovely ponies here tonight! And we would especially like to welcome all the representatives of Manehattan's law enforcement community that have chosen to join us here in the Palace Hotel Ballroom at this time!”

“So much for staying undercover,” Octavia muttered under her breath.

She and Vinyl were sitting in the audience, watching the beginning of a comedy act. Several MPD officers in uniform were sitting near the front row. Octavia took umbrage at the sight of a few of them sitting with their significant other next to them, clearly treating this more as an opportunity to score good seats for a show than as a serious assignment.

“Hey, give them some credit.” Sitting next to the two agents was Gum Shoe, the Bronclyn police detective who had come to Curtain Call’s apartment. “At least they haven’t let word of this get out to the press. I think I heard a couple of them referring to your killer as the ‘Phantom of the ‘Merse.’”

“Sorry, but I’m a little unclear about why you’re here,” Vinyl whispered, giving a sideways look at Gum Shoe. “Isn’t this outside your jurisdiction?”

“A mare in my jurisdiction was murdered by your killer. I think that’s enough,” the detective retorted in an undertone. He looked around. “Say, where’s your friends? Sharp... err, Sharp Eye and, uh, what?”

“That’s right,” Vinyl answered, failing to notice the perplexed look Gum Shoe was giving her. “They’re watching some other themerse production.”

“This seat taken?” The three ponies looked up to see a white-coated stallion who looked remarkably like Vinyl, but with a neon green, spiky mane.

“Feedback!” Vinyl exclaimed, quickly receiving a chorus of “Ssh!” from the surrounding audience members. She blushed while the stallion took a seat beside Vinyl. “How’s it going?” she whispered.

“Not great,” he murmured. “With New Wave gone, the production has fallen apart. Six months of work, straight down the tube. I came here to try and enjoy myself... didn’t think I’d run into you!

“Everypony is kinda nervous, too,” he added. “There’s all sorts of rumors going around, and now I just heard that Hitchcolt canceled his next performance.”

Vinyl and Octavia glanced at each other. “Yeah... that had something to do with us,” the DJ replied.

Feedback whistled. “Damn, Vinyl. You sure get around.”

“Just be sure to keep that info to yourself,” Gum Shoe muttered. “We don’t need some kind of panic developing.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Feedback said with a chuckle. “We may work on stage, but you learn pretty quickly how to keep a secret in this business.”

“What are you hiding?” Sharp Eye asked, her voice filled with curiosity and tinged with confusion. “Where are we going?”

“A show! I thought we could spend a little time together,” Watt Sun answered enthusiastically. He was holding her forehoof and pulling her down a bustling sidewalk, deftly maneuvering around ponies making their way along Broncway. Despite being sandwiched between ponies on all sides, Sharp Eye could still glance up and see the vast expanse of neon lights and colorful signs overhead. Gleaming theater marquees hung over the sidewalk and the air was filled with the chatter of ponies, the stomp of hooves, and the bustle of carriages in the street.

Sharp Eye let herself be pulled along by Watt Sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him so excited. He led her to a theater with a sign that read “Coltacobana” in neon red lettering, and another sign in one window with the words “Dinner and a Show” in curly writing. A long line of ponies, most of them in fine suits and dresses, stood in front of the entrance.

But rather than getting in line, Watt Sun led Sharp Eye along the side of the building. “Come on, I know another way in!”

“Wait! Aren’t we supposed to be watching over a themerse director?”

“We are! But that’s no reason for us not to enjoy ourselves,” Watt Sun answered with a smile. They entered what appeared to be a small service entrance on the side of the building, which was little more than a dank, cement stairway that led to a large steel door set below the sidewalk.

However, when the door opened it revealed the last thing Sharp Eye had been expecting. A narrow corridor, with wood paneled walls, red carpeting, and low lighting, was revealed behind the door. Behind the door stood a single pony who stood in their way, but when Watt Sun unfolded a flap on his bowtie to reveal his Pinkieton badge, the doorpony smiled and stepped aside to let them past.

“I called ahead to let them know we were coming,” Watt Sun explained, taking Sharp Eye’s forehoof as he led her down the narrow hallway. The mare wasn’t sure how to respond; usually she was the one who took the initiative, rather than the stallion. Whatever this was had Watt Sun really excited. So Sharp Eye let him drag her through the twisting corridor, turning around one corner after another.

Suddenly they were walking through a bustling hallway, packed with ponies hurrying back and forth, carrying heavy objects or lugging carts of items. Sharp Eye was just able to get a glance at a massive set piece being wheeled past them as Watt Sun led her on, winding around one stage pony after the next. Before Sharp Eye could fully grasp what was going on around her, one of the stage ponies trotted up to them. Watt Sun flashed his badge again and the stage pony gave a look of recognition before leading them through a nearby set of double doors.

If Sharp Eye had thought that the backstage was busy, it was positively tranquil compared to what awaited them on the other side of the double doors. Before them was a huge kitchen, crammed with cooks, sous chefs, and buscolts in white linen outfits navigating around the many countertops, stoves, and sinks in the room. Servers in tuxedos claimed dishes prepared with food before passing out another set of double doors on the other side of the room.

The stage pony led them through the cramped kitchen, deftly navigating around the ponies in his way. Through the gaps between chefs Sharp Eye was able to briefly glimpse pasta being tossed out of a strainer, vats of soup being stirred, and sprigs of rosemare being carefully laid atop a plate of something she couldn’t identify before she was swept along. The clatter of pans, the sizzle of something grilling, the rapid chopping of vegetables, and the constant hollering of chefs and servers completed the illusion of barely contained chaos. Through it all, Sharp Eye just let Watt Sun guide her through to the other side, where they followed the stage pony out of the kitchen.

And suddenly, the cacophony of the kitchen was gone, replaced by the tasteful decor of a large dining room. Low lighting accentuated the beautiful murals on the wall and the plush red carpeting. Every table, each one covered in white linen and laden down with food, was occupied by ponies in exquisite dresses or formal suits and ties. Sharp Eye suddenly felt very self-conscious about her lack of clothes. Even Watt Sun, with his black bowtie and bowler hat, looked out of place in this gathering of Manehattan elite.

There was a long line of ponies standing to the side of the dining room, being attended to by a single server in a tuxedo. The stage pony led the Pinkietons up to him and whispered in the server’s ear for a moment. Immediately, his face lit up and he beckoned to the Pinkietons.

“Oh, we’re so glad you showed up!” the server said in a warm voice. “The show’s just about to start; we’ll put you right next to the director.” He gestured to the side of the room and a unicorn waiter appeared, hovering a small table, a pair of chairs, and a rolled up tablecloth in the air above him. “Right up front, Tip!” he ordered before turning back to the Pinkietons. “Just follow him. Anything you need, he’ll take good care of you.” Watt Sun offered his thanks before leading Sharp Eye into the dining room.

Sharp Eye couldn’t suppress a sheepish grin as diners turned to watch the spectacle of the wait staff producing a new table on the Pinkieton’s behalf. Behind her, she could hear angered muttering from the ponies standing in line. “Hey, how come we can’t get a table?” one of them shouted. The realization that she and Watt Sun were currently the envy of these Manehattan elite was not lost on Sharp Eye.

The waiter led them to a small clearing between the tables at the front of the room, setting the table and chairs on the ground. With a flourish, he unraveled the tablecloth and set it on the table to reveal plates, silverware, and glasses already arranged in perfect order. As the Pinkietons took their seats, another waiter appeared with a bottle of wine. She held up the bottle so they could read the seal, waiting for their approval before pouring them both a glass.

“Are you ze detectives?” Watt Sun and Sharp Eye looked up to see an elderly unicorn stallion with a white, windswept mane and glasses. Despite his hardened features, he had a kindly expression. He offered his hoof to the two Pinkietons in turn as he spoke in a Prench accent. “I am Cheval Coustrot, ze director of tonight’s show. I wanted to offer my thanks in advance for your service.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Watt Sun replied with a smile. Cheval nodded and trotted away, leaving the pair alone at the table for the first time.

Sharp Eye turned to her friend. “You just thought of everything, didn’t you? But you still haven’t told me what this show is.”

Watt Sun grinned and placed a forehoof over Sharp Eye’s. “Oh, wait and see. You’ll love this!”

“Fillies and gentlecolts!” they heard Cheval announce. They turned to see him standing nearby, walking in between the tables of the dining room. “I am Cheval Coustrot, ocean explorer and ze former ambassador to ze Seapony Kingdom. Tonight, I am very pleased to present my newest show on ze wonders of ze sea. But first, let us set ze stage!”

His horn began to glow, and immediately Sharp Eye heard what sounded like the crashing of waves against a beach. She looked around curiously for a moment before there was a rush of noise and a huge wave of water suddenly emerged out of one side of the room, sending up huge splashes and plumes of mist over each of the tables as it crashed against them. Sharp Eye barely had time to grasp what was happening before the wave smashed against her and she felt water wash over her. She grabbed onto the table in a desperate attempt to keep from being swept away before noting with alarm that the water was rising very quickly. Within a few seconds, it had risen above her head, immersing her completely.

But something was off. She felt the water, but had not sensed the impact from the wave she had been expecting. As she opened her eyes, she found her eyesight barely affected. Her ears, far from being waterlogged, were still picking up the noises of the dining room as clearly as ever. And as she looked around, she noticed that everything still seemed to be obeying the law of gravity. No one’s mane or clothing was floating in the water around them, and the wine in her glass wasn’t mingling with the water immersing it. She looked over at Watt Sun, who was smiling at her.

Sharp Eye let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding and gave Watt Sun a sheepish grin. Now she noticed that the “water” was warm, just as warm as the temperature of the room. Coral began appearing on the floor around the tables, as if growing out of the carpet, which itself was quickly taking on the appearance of sand. The murals on the walls faded to the blue backdrop of the ocean’s depths.

“Ze sea is home to many beautiful creatures,” Cheval Coustrot said, now walking past the Pinkieton’s table. “In ze coral reefs, you can find some of ze most incredible sights in all of ze world.” Suddenly, fishes emerged from under the tables, filling the surrounding “water” with life. The diners “oohed” and “aahed” as a dazzling display of color swam overhead, with fishes darting between tables or lazily drifting by. Jellies floated past while rays sailed by along the floor and a clownfish nestled itself in Sharp Eye’s mane before darting out. She felt Watt Sun’s hoof gently stroke against hers and they shared a smile before looking up to take in the show.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Vinyl grumbled. She and Octavia were trotting down the street to their hotel, preparing to turn in for the night. It was quite late by this point, and the street was mostly deserted. “Cops in every theater in the city, and nopony notices a thing.”

“We should be so lucky,” Octavia muttered. The sidewalk was quiet with only a few ponies walking around, and the night air was filled with the steady hum of traffic on distant streets and the machinery of the tall buildings that surrounded them. They rounded the corner and were soon standing in front of their hotel, climbing up the steps.

As they approached the front door, Octavia paused and looked across the street. Something seemed different. It took her a moment to realize that the pizzeria across the street had changed its sign: where before it had read “Neigh’s Pizza,” now it said “World Famous Neigh’s Pizza.” Across the street to her left, the pizzeria formerly known as “Original Neigh’s Pizza” had tacked on an addition to read “Famous Original Neigh’s Pizza”. Catty-corner to the hotel, the pizzeria there had changed its name completely to “Real Neigh’s Pizza.” In each one, the light was on and there were no customers; only a stallion standing at the window, staring icily at one of the other pizzerias on the intersection.

The cellist stared at the sight for a moment, lost in thought before she heard Vinyl knocking on the hotel door behind her. A slot on the door opened to reveal somepony looking out at them for a moment before she spoke. “How is a pegasus like a writing desk? Can you answer this riddle?”

“Nope, I can’t answer it,” Vinyl replied. The slot on the door closed and the door opened to allow the two Pinkietons inside. Octavia glanced back at the odd sight before shrugging it off and following Vinyl inside.

“Hee hee, I think I had a little too much wine...” Sharp Eye giggled as she walked slowly and deliberately down the hallway outside their hotel rooms. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a slight stagger in her gait. Watt Sun held her steady as he walked beside her. “Oh, I hope Melody Maker doesn’t get mad when we charge it to the agency... I bet it was pretty expensive.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Watt Sun offered with a grin.

Sharp Eye descended into a fit of giggles. “You know,” she began when she recovered, “that’s probably the last thing I expected to hear you say.”

“Oh?” Watt Sun gave her a lopsided grin. “Maybe I had too much wine too.” They shared a laugh as they stopped in front of the door to Sharp Eye’s room.

She pulled out her room key but then struggled to get it into the lock, trying repeatedly to maneuver it into the keyhole but failing. Finally, Watt Sun gently took her forehoof with his own and guided the key into the hole, unlocking the door with a sharp click. His hoof remained atop hers for a moment, gently caressing the back of her hoof.

The two shared a look, staring into each other’s eyes. They slowly leaned closer together, Sharp Eye’s gaze flicking momentarily to Watt Sun’s lips. He seemed to take notice and drew closer, his face hovering within inches of hers for what seemed like ages before their lips suddenly met. She inhaled sharply, feeling him press against her as she closed her eyes and returned the kiss with a passion.

Sharp Eye wrapped her hooves around his head, keeping their lips locked together even as she backed through the door into her room, pulling Watt Sun in before the door slammed shut behind them.