Prelude - UnusualSuspects.

> Manehatten.
> Night.
> Cold as a changelings heart.
> The rain's coming down like it's quitting time in Cloudsdale.
> I'm Anon and I need a vacation.
> All I've got is a badge and a headache.
> I'd settle for an umbrella.
> Gutters have already closed shop and new rivers line the streets.
> I pull my collar closer and take what shelter a good fedora can offer.
> The puddle between me and the alleyway reflects a neon p0ny.
> Rain beating down makes him lurch like he's doing the spandau ballet.
> Kinda appropriate, given what's waiting down there.
> At the end of the alleyway a dumpster reflects torchlight that dances like a firefly with poor standards.
> I reach into my pocket and pull out that ragged little box of calm.
> Pulling a mareborough free with my mouth I pat myself down for evidence of my whereabouts earlier in the night.
> I find the book of matches.
> Turns out I was at the Painted Mare.
> Classy.
> Just my kinda joint.
> Wish I coulda remembered it.
> The book plays ball and strikes a light like a folorn hope at the edge of the dark alleyway.
> Two pulls on the drooping mareborough tells me the night has other plans.
"I was gonna quit anyway."...
>...I mutter and toss the damp butt into the puddle as I make my way to the scene of the crime.

"What you got for me, Smiles?"
> The nightside detective turns from his search, torch in mouth.
> Like he needed a torch...
> Smiles was ex royal guard, night corp.
> Never told us why he got the boot, never asked.
> Their loss, our gain.
> Best damn nightbeat officer I ever met.
> Shame about the name.
> Sunshine Smiles, just Smiles for short.
> Mainly because no one ever see's him do it.
> At least his mom had a sense of humour.
> He flexes his leathery wings and sets those yellow eyes right on you.
> "Not a lot. Just a stiff sporting some fine diamondcast chestwear. Sparks is giving her the once over."
> I peer past Smiles to take in the scene.

"A dame? jeez. I guess diamonds ain't always a girls best friend."
> Smiles just turns back to the job, searching for anything the perp's been kind enough to leave behind.
> See?
> No sense of humour.
> A yellow mare with a unfurled bouffont of orange hair lies on the cold, uncaring alley floor, wearing a red gown.
> The rain has taken the blood already, like the city is trying to wash away her sins.
> Yeah right.
"Not enough water in Equestria, darlin"...
> ...I mumble to myself.
> Five bolt flights are jutting out of her torso.
> One is a light hit, can still see the tip of the bolt, twinkling in the neon.
> Diamond tipped.
> Dog work, or at least someone on speaking terms with them.
> Must have been the opener.
> Caught her as she was running.
> The rest as the killers walked closer.
> Then the last.
> The sixth was a deep hit, in the flank.
> Right in the cutiemark.
> Gangland style.

> Near the stiff a dame of our own is standing.
> Unicorn, umbrella shielding her from the downpour.
> She wears a black suit dress, tight on the flanks and shorter than a griffons patience.
> I step up next to her and offer her first slug from my hipflask.
> It's only polite.
> Mainly though, I do it because she always refused.
> She shakes her head and her horn glows it's purple as she works her mojo.
"No valuables, couple pearls in the gutter. Heist gone wrong?"
> "...with a bolt right there?" She nods her head to the flank shot.
"So... exe-cute-tion? That's your bet?"
> Sparks turns a gaze on me that could chill Celestia "You can stop testing me any time you like."
"Ok, Ok, sweethooves. What you managed to magic up for us?"
> Sparks smiles and it's suddenly not so cold.
> "The doe was carrying so much joke in her viens, she would barely be able to walk, let alone trot the alleyway."
> Joke...Poison Joke.
> J.
> Laughing powder.
> Never more than a pain for bumpkins 'till some genius figured out how to turn it into nose candy.
> Now?
> Favorite snuff for every jokers nosebag between Manehatten and Detrot.

"So, the doe was legless when she got here."
> "No doubt about it. It doesn't add up. Why make it look like a gang hit and a heist?"
"Who called it in?"
> "Patrol guard. Heard somep0ny shouting for help. Male. came to see and found her."
> "Don't think our perp got civil minded all of a sudden." adds Smiles, sauntering up.
"You two finish up here. Get the helmets to clean the poor gal up for her ride downtown."
> I try to light another mareborough under the cover of Sparks umbrella.
> She moves at the last moment, on purpose, letting the rain flood on down.
> Her and the city agree on one thing, no smokes for Anon tonight.
> Sparks just hates the smell.
> Tonight, the city just hates me.
> "...back to the bar?" she asks.
"Thought you'd never ask, sweethooves... I'm gonna have to take a raincheck. Gonna go hit up Will and see what he's got for his old pal Anon."
> I tip my hat to my partners and head streetward and six blocks down.

> Will
> Good old Willie the Wailer.
> Proprieter of the BrassBull pawn shop, one time grifter and my favorite minotaur.
> He hates me like a rash.
> Guess that'll happen when you're the only thing keeping him out of the clink.
> ...and of course, the only thing keeping me doing that is the condition of him singing like a dawn chorus when I ring my bell.
> The relationship between a cop and his stoolie is a complicated one.
> His fault.
> Got caught fleecing rubes with a 'build your confidence' ponzi scheme.
> That's why I like him.
> You gotta have a sense of humour to try a confidence trick with the word 'confidence' right in the middle of it.
> I told him that when we first met.
> He didn't see the funny side.
> Cuffing a guy sends a certain message I suppose.

> The shop has three brass balls hanging outside of it.
> A dull, yellow, sickly light can be seen through the bars and backlighting the city's hocked dreams.
> It's like an aladdins cave lost dreams and hirepurchase hope.
> Each item wears a tag spelling out in bits the worth of some poor shmoe's dignity.
> The bell rings above the shop door as I step in out of the wet, cold night.
"Don't you ever close Willie boy?"
> "Oh, Bluebloods blueballs. Iron Will don't have time for this..."
"...well he better find time... or he sleeps in a room with Iron windows."
> Thing I learnt over our long, fun relationship; Bull talks like a clown? cut the bucker down.
> "Ok... jeez. I get it. You want java? I'm just about to-"
"Prefer mine heavy on the coltic mist, hold the java."...
> ...I give my hipflask a little wave at him and he gets the idea.
"Lets skip the dance and get to the slap and tickle, Will. What you heard?"
> The big guy sighs and steps out from behind his counter, straightening his tie.
> "It's been quiet. Too quiet."
> He's right.
> Lately all the movers and the shakers have been stiller than Celestia's statue garden.
> "...nothing coming in from the port...nothing going out."
"I'm looking a bit smaller than that Will."
> "What's up Anon? They finally caught on and busted you down a-"
"Willie, If I went down, you'd be keeping me company. Just chasing a hunch."
> "Well...I did get a few things in tonight." Will heads behind the counter and pulls out a box.
> I walk over and check the box.
> Good old Will.
"That's what I'm looking for..."
> Pearls, loose, around 14 of them.
> "...Scoots."

> Scoots...
> Little Scootaloo.
> Some rube from the sticks, came to the big city looking for the lights and a cutiemark of her own.
> Listened to far too many stories about the big city.
> Ran out of bits, sold her scooter, sold her soul and in the end sold her dreams.
> Who knows how much else she sold before she started selling other peoples things?
> That's a secret the city can keep.
> That's Manehatten for you...
> She's a flirt, promises you the world, but underneath it all?
> Just a tease.
> The little filly is just another street rat, but one that could earn a cutiemark as a dip artist the way she's going.
> I've tried to send her to a fosterhome three times now, but she's more slippery than a greased parasprite.
"Well, that's just peachy. Stay honest, Will. I'll see you again."
> I pocket the pearls and head out into the nights embrace.
> Still thinking about Scoots.
> Sleeps somewhere new every night.
> No hope tonight, maybe If I stake out the soup kitchen tomorrow I might...
> I barely hear the clopping hooves as Sparks runs up next to me.
> "Anon! There you are! We've got to move. Someone's been on the horn..."
> Sparks picks up messages from dispatch on that thing.
> The only thing she can't do with it is make good coffee.
"What's the story?"
> "They found her." Sparks is breathing heavy, but it's not the run.
> Her eyes are harder than a Diamond Dogs head.
"Scoots?"...
>...still thinking about that poor kid.
> "Her." Sparks says again. "...they've found the Maredowell."
> Celestia's holy horseapples...
"Where? who has her? tell me they've got the place covered."
> "Royal Guard have her. They're as good as it gets. The place is P0nyville."
"..."
"..."
"Pack your case, sweetheart. Smiles can handle the broad in the alley. We're going to P0nyville."