Chapter One Hundred Forty One

The oscillating fan tucked into the corner of the office whirred with all the physical might that could be mustered from the low setting, which it couldn't go above without causing an unbearably grating racket due to a worn bearing being overloaded by the additional strain being put on it. Right now the colorful streamers tied to the front of the blade cage to serve as white noise were racket enough on their own, without the added chorus of strained metal-against-metal.

Right now it was doing nothing to disperse the humidity or chase away the heat of the morning. But turning it off was still an unacceptable course of action to be engaging in.

The overhead fluorescent lights in the room were humming and intermittently flickering at just the wrong sort of frequency, carrying with them the threat of potentially triggering a seizure in some poor dumb sap who made the boneheaded mistake of looking up at them at just the wrong moment for too long.

The above-mentioned facts, combined with the various invoices and expense reports that needed to be poured over, were all culminating into the perfect storm for grating on Camshaft's nerves and making him silently -and not so silently- curse being the boss of the Manehattan City Garage. Why, for two measly bits he'd chuck it all right out the window, and wash his hooves of the whole mess right bucking now!

"Never should've taken that blasted promotion," he mumbled to himself as he shuffled through form after form. "I was making good money, being a grease monkey and doing oil changes. The work wasn't that bad, the paperwork was a breeze... I just had to get enraptured by the boss looking all clean up in his office and not having oil stains on his coat. What a palooka I was."

Having to manually lathe a new wooden wagon axle from scratch, to exacting size specifications, was nothing compared to the workload he was under these days. Oh, to be young and on the shop floor again.

And then the foul mood he was in, actually managed to get worse as a knock at the open door of his office was hear.

"Hey, boss?" one of the workers called uneasily. "MCPD is here."

Camshaft huffed in annoyance and frustration.

"So help me, if I have to answer one more question about those stolen carriages, I'm gonna-"

"Actually, boss," the employee interrupted, "they're here to investigate our problems."

His complaints died in his throat when he heard this. Motivating him to slowly swivel his chair around in response.

"They're actually investigating for us, not us?" he asked.

The grease monkey of a mechanic behind him nodded in response. "Said they called in some sorta specialist who deals with this sorta stuff."

He'd heard it all for himself, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to actually believe it. This sort of news was definitely not on his bingo card for how the week was going to be proceeding.

With that in mind he set the papers in his hoof back on the desk, before climbing up from his chair.

"Well then. If that's the case then we might as well go out and greet them."

The short trot from the office to the shop floor graced his nostrils with the overly familiar scent of hot rubber, dirty oil, and bad decisions. But right now he had other things on his mind to focus on.

The big, hulking earth pony stallion in the fancy suit jacket with the immaculately styled goatee was easy enough for him to recognize from previous encounters/interactions. But the other one who was currently standing next to him and staring off in no particular direction? Not so much. But his fancy white suit was certainly out of place in an environment like this.

He'd be walking out of here with his jacket a nice shade of wrought-iron gray just from being in the shop's atmosphere if he stood around for too long. The floor where all the work was done, and the very nature of that work, had a way of abhorring white in all forms. Along with a way of trying to address and resolve that abhorrence.

"Detective Glacier," he greeted in a weary tone as he approached closer so he wouldn't have to shout over the commotion of the shop floor. "I can't really say I was expecting to see you here today. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"We got a report about a ghost sighting last night," the burly stallion commented as he slowly turned himself around. "Had a complaining witness at our precinct, afraid to leave the station house like she thought something was waiting out in the shadows to devour her the moment she set a toe out the door."

A ghost sighting? That was the bull they were trying to sell him to explain their being here?

"Uh-huh," Camshaft replied, entirely unable to successfully keep the disbelief out of his tone. "And which one of my guys is it that got spooked by one too many campfire stories like a foal at summer camp?"

"The kobold on night staff."

The statement hadn't come from Glacier, but rather the white-draped character who'd been silently standing next to him the entire time, who hadn't even bothered to turn around once during the conversation. Spoken in a voice that was as smooth as axle grease, and as unsettling as a broken shock.

But more unsettling was what had been said than how it'd been said. He would admit, that wasn't one he could've foreseen.

"And you actually believed that?"

"We don't know what to believe right now," Glacier admitted, "but we don't investigate cases, based on whether or not we think they're believable. We had a complaining witness, we had an obligation to check it out. Fortunately we have a specialist from all the way up in Canterlot to assist us. He's sort of the defacto expert on weird stuff like this."

At least now he had more to go on; like who the strange character in white was, and what he was doing here. And possibly why he didn't know any better than to wear white in the garage. But that didn't necessarily make it anymore easily believable for him.

"During the course of our investigation it was determined that this wasn't the work of some rogue poltergeist, but rather a more mundane explanation. A run-of-the-mill unicorn using run-of-the-mill magic to obscure their visibility for the purpose of sneaking about inside the garage without detection. A fact that would've been left uncovered had it not been for her ability to see in the dark, and pick up on the visual irregularities," the specialist explained. "As a result of this, further investigation into the matter was determined as warranted, to determine whether or not the unicorns currently on staff either are the guilty party, or possess a connection to such."

Camshaft was not liking what he was hearing right now. The possibility that one of this workers could be stealing from him wasn't exactly the most foreign concept to him. But to actually hear it being laid out like that wasn't setting right with him either.

"You think one of my staff is behind this?" Camshaft asked, wanting to make sure he was hearing right.

"It was initially suspected, and even believed," the specialist confirmed. "But further investigation has revealed significant differences; differences that are far too drastic to suggest that might be the case. How to put this in terms you would be readily familiar with? If the unicorns you have on staff could be described as fine-threaded grade-eight bolts, then the culprit that was seen last night would be considered a large nail in comparison to them."

Camshaft idly nodded as he listened to the explanation as it was given, all the while appreciating that it was being given in easy enough terms were relevant to the work hew as familiar with, so that he could actually make sense of what was being said. All very considerate and whatnot.

"Our investigation is complete."

There had been a noted of finality in the statement. A note that left no room to suggest otherwise or even present a question before the two departed. Leaving him to wonder just why it'd been necessary for him to come out here in the first place.

Glacier trotted along at a brisk pace, necessary to keep up with the longer legs of the Espada as he walked. And all the while as he did, he couldn't really shake the feeling like he'd somehow gotten sidelined between last night and today. Like this was no longer their own investigation, and he'd simply not gotten the memo yet.

When they'd set out this morning to investigate the city garage and look for clues, he'd anticipated interviewing witnesses, taking statements, etc. that sort of thing. Not just... standing around and doing nothing while listening to the industrial commotion of the shop floor.

"Exactly what sort of investigation was that back there?" he asked as he worked to keep pace and not get left behind.

"What do you mean?" the Espada asked while never breaking stride.

"I mean that there was no actual investigating going on; not as far as I could see anyway. The whole time we were there, you didn't ask a single question. You just announced our purpose there, and then creeped everypony out with standing around like a statue," he explained.

"It was a successful investigation, revealing what needed to be known about the matter," the Espada stated. "What did you notice between the time of our arrival, and our subsequent departure?"

"... I'm not sure I know what you mean," he admitted.

"The purpose behind our presence was announced upon our arrival at the garage, making the staff aware that law enforcement knew about what was taking place on the premises, giving them the opportunity to react to such news. Specifically, they were presented with both the opportunity and a good reason to be concerned about such a development. Concern that would cause individual fluctuations in their respective mana field. Fluctuations that I would be able to detect with a mere glance, but they would be unable to suppress."

On the one hoof, Glacier couldn't help but think of how useful such an investigative tool would be in their line of work. Sociopaths, psychopaths, whatever the 'path was, not being able to hide behind manipulated body language about whether or not they were involved in a particular crime would be invaluable. But on the other hoof, something like that would also be a massive invasion of privacy. And he really didn't want to think of what sort of conspiratorial rants Chomp would go on if he became aware of such; the bird was insufferable enough as it was already.

"So you were trying to flush out the guilty party back there? See who flinched like a cockroach being exposed to the light?" he asked.

"In a sense," the Espada confirmed. "From the moment we entered the premises, I could tell that none of the unicorns present and on staff were responsible for last night's incident. The magical signatures they possess are far different from what was detected last night, spread all over the garage floor without a second thought for the trail that was being left behind."

"Wait, you did? But if you knew right off the bat that they weren't involved, then why did you stand around for so long, scaring ponies like that?"

"Reconnaissance gathering. Out of all the ponies employed at the garage, they remained detectably apprehensive throughout the entire time we were there. They only showed signs of relaxing once they were informed about what we were specifically looking for."

Glacier frowned as he trotted along. He'd had a comment all prepared and ready to suggest they were apprehensive because of the Espada's unsettling presence. But he'd been too quick in pointing out what'd been picked up; what he himself hadn't been able to pick up on, on his own.

"Suggesting that the garage staff really is up to something criminal, just not what the kobold saw happening last night," he surmised. "We've been suspecting something like that for a a couple of years now. But we've never been able to actually pin anything on them before that wasn't circumstantial at best; like not knowing the carriage they were refitting was actually stolen because the model number plate had been broken off from the wooden frame."

Something like this could be very, very big.

"After you bag Tirek, is there any chance you can hang around a while longer? Maybe spend a couple of days, helping us with closing a few more pending cases that we haven't been able to give the attention they deserve?" he asked.

"That would be unlikely. Stopping Tirek, and saving as many ponies as possible, is the only justification for my being present in Manehattan in the first place. Were it not for his escaping from Tartarus, I would still be up in Canterlot and helping Princess Celestia with the problems that she's unable to deal with on her own," the Espada explained.

Hearing it be put like that, Glacier regretted his earlier comment about Canterlot not being like Manehattan when they'd been told about Tirek actually being a thing and the source of their problems.

"However. Should any leads or connections to such everyday criminal activity happen to be uncovered during the time it takes me to finish addressing Tirek's presence and involvement in the other cases, I would see fit to turning these discoveries over to the proper authorities. So that they might be able to proceed accordingly, in a manner that would actually hold up in a court of law," the Espada continued.

That really hadn't been the sort of response that he'd been expecting to hear. But if assistance was being offered, far be it for him to be ungrateful and turn it down.

"Right... so then. Where are we in hunting down the main quarry?" he asked, ultimately deciding a change of subject was is order.

"Not as far along, as anyone involved in the matter would wish us to be. Even with the help of your fellow detectives pouring over various blueprints, now that the math behind the search parameters had been finalized, there are still many miles of terrain to comb through before we can map out where Tirek might be, as opposed to where he can't be," the Espada clarified. "This city is far vaster than was initially believed."

"Is there any way we could try and force him to make a move? Try and flush him out of hiding and pounce on him?"

"There are certainly methods and tactics that could achieve such a feat," the Espada confirmed. "But trying to employ them in such a confined area, like the city of Manehattan, would result in an exceptionally high casualty rate in the process."

He nodded at the implication of what was being said by not actually being said. All the while silently horrified at what the implication actually was, if this character could speak about such horrifying things with such ease and calmness as if they were nothing. No hesitation in his voice, no discomfort as he spoke, it was like he was addressing a simple laundry list.

It was a small comfort that, even as scary as a predator that the Espada was, he seemed unwilling to go through with such drastic measures. After what he did to Mayor Fetlock, he doubted that they'd be able to stop him if they tried.

Whatever sort of leash Princess Celestia had him on, must've been pretty substantial.

"So all we can do is keep carrying on as we already are. Waiting for him to make his move first," he surmised glumly. "Meanwhile the good citizens of our fine city are sitting ducks to a threat they don't know about, that we can't inform them about without causing a panic, or showing our hoof and losing the element of surprise, which is pretty much the only advantage we have over Tirek at the moment."

"I don't find the matter to be anymore palatable than you do," the Espada confirmed as they walked along. "Every minute that must be spent pouring over city records in search of Tirek's location, is one more minute that can't be spent actively saving those who've already fallen victim to his machinations. One more minute that some of them simply do not have.

"I have to acknowledge and accept the fact that saving every pony that Tirek has victimized since his escape is simply not a possibility, viable or otherwise. All that can be done, is try to keep the casualty count to a minimum."

Glacier nearly winced. The animosity in the Espada's voice as he spoke on the subject was borderline palpable. It was like emotionless hatred or something. Almost like he somehow had a history with the centaur, but was doing everything he could to remain professional.

"You're gonna kill him, aren't you?"

"Do you object to such a course of action?"

He did. He really did. He was both a pony, and a police officer. Professionally, and even emotionally he was supposed to be opposed to snuffing out a life, how matter how rotten and sour it might be. Opposed all the way down to his very core.

But he'd been involved in these Tirek cases for far too long, stretching all the way back to the very first victims, long before they ever had a clue what they were doing, or what was going on. He'd looked into far too many lightless eyes, of too many ponies whose magic had been stolen from them. Too many innocents whose suffering went unheard, because there'd been too few of them for anypony else to care about - too poor for anypony in a position of power to care about. Too many vulnerable ponies who he couldn't help as they just slowly -and painfully- faded away. Too many foals who would never get to grow up and learn what their cutie mark meant for them.

"If you have to, you have to. You're the high-priced specialist from Canterlot who knows what he's doing and all. I just work here. Investigating stolen carriages, chasing down saddlebag snatchers, and occasionally breaking up the odd domestic dispute that we get word of."

"All very vital and important services in a functioning society."

That comment from the Espada had been very unexpected. It sounded almost... complimentary. Like this strange character had respect for the work that they did. Not that he was about to complain, though.

After that he didn't really feel much need to talk further. Conversation just sort of lapsed into companionable silence as the two of them walked along back to the station house so they could get back to their respective work.

"Good morning, Officer."

He stopped at hearing the address directed at him, turning to see who had been speaking. Because that soft voice certainly hadn't come from the Espada just now. His attention was eventually drawn to the presence of an earth pony filly with orange eyes currently sitting next to a pair of tattered blue saddlebags, perched atop a decorative bench on the sidewalk.

Exactly how much of the brownness of her coat was natural, and how much was due to needing a bath was a mystery. Although the purple treble clef cutie mark didn't really look like it was dirty. The sheen of her black tail and mane, done up in spiral braided twin tails, could either be attributed to a buildup of oil or a good shampoo, he didn't know for certain.

One look at her was enough to suggest she was a street urchin and had reason for not being in school right now. Which made for a jarring combination with her happily munching away one of those fancy gourmet hotdogs topped with lettuce, pickle slices, diced onions, chives, and a slice of a hard-boiled egg.

Whatever the case was, theft or otherwise, it wasn't really important right now. He had work to do, and he didn't work truancy cases.

"Morning, kid. Shouldn't you be in school about now?"

Her only response was a mere non-committal shrug as she took another bite, all while eying them and their position.

"Your friend's not from around here, is he?" she asked as her attention -what they had of it anyway- shifted over to the Espada where he currently stood.

"You're correct, I'm not," The Espada confirmed as he slowly just enough to face her. "Just as you are not from around here either. Despite your appearance suggesting otherwise."

At this, the filly's eyes went wide as her collected composure broke, nearly resulting in her dropping her meal in shock.

"You... you can tell that?" she asked in a shaky tone.

"With a mere glance," he confirmed. "You aren't a pony, although you wear the visage of one quite well. Were it not for my unique skill set, such a fact wouldn't even have been noticed in the first place."

Glacier found himself being lost as the exchange unfolded right in front of him. Along with giving the filly a second look as he tried to see what the Espada was supposedly seeing.

"Exactly who you are, what you are, and what your purpose is here in Manehattan, none of this is any of my business," the Espada stated. "So long as no actions are taken that would prove to endanger anypony, then these details will continue to remain none of my business, and I will have no reason to investigate them any further. Leaving you free to continue doing whatever it is that ultimately brought you here in the first place."

The filly merely continued looking at him in a confused sort of terror, nodding stiffly at his words as he delivered a not-so-subtle sort of threat.

And just like that the entire conversation was over as the Espada began walking again. Leaving him having to gallop after him to avoid getting left behind.

"Just- what was that back there?"

"Addressing an outlier before it can become a problem in need of being resolved."

"Uh-huh," Glacier replied, unconvinced. "You sure about that kid back there not being a pony?"

"As certain as Sergeant Sarsaparilla Root is pregnant, and you aren't the father," the Espada stated. "To put into simple terms, all ponies have a unique magical signature all their own. If these signatures could be described as occupying the yellow wavelength range of visible light, hers would be firmly in the red wavelength; specifically blood red."

"That-" he started, but mentally stumbled as he tried to find what he wanted his words to be. "So what sort of creature has a red wavelength signature?"

"Admittedly, I don't know. Whatever it is, it's something I've not encountered yet."

The fact that the Espada didn't have an answer to the question, was somehow proving to be a far more terrifying premise than what he could theoretically discern with a mere glance.

"That's honestly kind of frightening," he admitted.

"These are frightening times that you ponies live in."

Author's Note

So... ever be writing along and your brain suddenly seizes up at a certain point and just refuses to do anymore after that point for a chapter, no matter how much you try to force it? Because it happened to me.

It probably wasn't worth the long wait, but I guess it's at least something.