Octavia frowned at the pony’s body.
The victim was lying face down next to a puddle, one arm draped across it. The pants the stallion wore were of fine make, but dirty and drenched with the rain even now pouring down the city streets. Dark, fashionable shoes were splattered with filth and scuffed on the heels. The pony’s hair was similarly wet, matted like a nest of tangled vines, but not from blood. He was dead, but there were no visible explanations for it.
Which was, Octavia supposed, one of the reasons why they had sent for her.
Octavia sighed as she waited for the doctor to finish examining the body. She huddled in her longcoat, pining for an umbrella. A few ponies stared from under nearby awnings. Others kept to themselves, avoiding what they could of the rain by dashing from shelter to shelter.
Days like these were common in the city of Seaddle, where clouds often blocked any sunlight for weeks at a time. Mist regularly twisted through the streets whenever the rain decided to level off for a few hours—such had been the case last night when the pony had died.
And that means what witnesses there were to the crime would be next to useless, she thought with a quick scan of the area. A few local constables glared at the passerby while another talked to the pony who had first found the body. If this was even where it happened.
It was entirely possible that the event had taken place in the sewers. They ran like warrens beneath the city, and the underground element had a vested interest in keeping the tunnels as free from official investigation as possible. Bodies were bad for business—the city guard would take any excuse for another rampage through the sewers if one of their patrols found something worthwhile.
It wouldn’t surprise Octavia if some gang member had happened along the victim’s corpse and decided to surreptitiously transfer it to a safer location.
“Investigator Octavia, ma’am?”
The doctor’s voice drew Octavia out of her thoughts. She stared down at the bespectacled earth pony, who was still kneeling beside the body. “Find something?”
“Nothing but skinned forelegs,” the pony said with a shake of his head. “It’s as the constables thought. No evidence of what killed the victim on the body, though he probably fought sometime before his death. His name’s Flimity, according to the wallet we found. High-level investor.”
Octavia nodded absently, attempting to recall the pony’s name. Pierre? Pirian? No, Perish. That’s it, she remembered. They had been introduced in one of the cases she’d handled earlier that year.
“Any guesses, Doctor Perish?”
The pony started, as if surprised by the recognition. “I would point to poison as the most likely culprit. Though...” He paused.
“Though?” Octavia asked blandly. She wanted the confirmation of the other possibility from the pony, which was why she’d used the doctor’s name. Familiarity made it easier for those questioned to entertain ideas they might otherwise be biased against.
Doctor Perish frowned at the body. “Magic. It could be magic. Definitely not something everypony could cast, but certain, high-level spells... well, they could achieve the same effect.”
Octavia closed her eyes and gave a quiet sigh. Another reason she had asked was to rule out the possibility of magic. Dealing with poison would have been simpler. But now that the doctor had confirmed it, she had no choice but to investigate the murder with both possibilities in mind. Her list would make that easier, but it was still a pain.
“Wonderful,” she replied.
The other pony grunted. “I don’t have much experience with deaths caused by it, but I can’t dismiss it—much as I want to. Once I bring him back to the morgue, I can perform a more thorough investigation.”
“Let’s hope for poison, then, yeah?”
The two ponies turned toward the voice.
Its owner was nearly the opposite of Octavia. While Octavia was an earth pony with a thicker build, the newcomer was clearly a unicorn, with a spiked blue mane mostly hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. A black coat hung across her shoulders and shielded her from the rain. She smiled cheerily, a sharp contrast to their dreary surroundings.
“You’re here early,” Octavia pointed out, eyeing her partner.
Vinyl shrugged and came to rest beside her, one hoof dashingly resting on the thin rapier she carried at her side. “Banner said it was important, and we haven’t had a case in awhile, ‘Tavi. Thought I’d like to see the body before it gets to the slab.”
Once, Octavia would have gritted her teeth at the nickname.
Instead, she cleared her throat and gestured a hoof at her friend’s clothes. “New outfit?”
Her partner nodded and cocked her head at the body. “...Yeah, found the duster at the station. Might have been a criminal’s effects. Mine now, though. Needed a new jacket.”
“And the boots?”
“Traded them for a piece of bread,” Vinyl continued without skipping a beat. “Thieves these days, willing to part with anything for a bite to eat. Poor colt.”
Octavia raised an eyebrow, but dropped the subject. “What do you think?”
“I think fillies and foals should be smart enough to realize that trading the boots to a fence would net them enough money for more than one loaf of bread,” Vinyl declared, abruptly swiveling around and walking away.
“We’ll see you back at the morgue in an hour, Doctor,” Octavia said with a sigh, following her partner, who had pulled a slim, black cane from nowhere and began to twirl it around.
Doctor Perish snorted. “Best of luck in the Drab, Octavia.”
Octavia nodded, more to herself than the doctor. The Drab was a name that often caused her skin to crawl. Being underground was something she’d never become accustomed to, no matter how long she lived in this city. It didn’t help matters that some of the sewer tunnels were known to collapse under both age and as a result of the turf wars.
Naturally, those same tunnels were her destination.
Vinyl was already lowering herself into one of the many entrances to the Drab, boots clunking against the old metal. To Octavia, it sounded like nails being driven into a coffin. She frowned, stopping at the hole, and waited for the other to finish her descent.
The only bright side to entering the Drab was the recent addition of strings of electric lights. They were a recent invention, not even installed in most homes aboveground. But with how often the tunnels were used by both lawponies and those avoiding the law, the lights had been strung up swiftly.
A splash echoed in the brightly lit tunnel as she dropped off the ladder. The semi-circle shape of the tunnel was large enough to stack two ponies high and four wide. It still wasn’t enough room, in Octavia’s opinion.
She fought the urge to glance back up at the closed grate. The thought of all that weight above her was bad enough—paying it any more attention than she had to would just increase her anxiety.
“Do you know what I think?” Vinyl asked, both hooves on her cane as she leaned forward on it.
“I’m quite sure I never will,” Octavia replied, glad for the distraction.
“I think that pony up there was moved from where he was killed.”
“The idea had occurred to me.” Octavia stalked forward through the shallow water.
Vinyl nodded happily and fell into step beside her. “Scuffed heels?”
“The filth on them and the pants, too.”
Vinyl tapped the cane against the wall. “Could have run through a dirty alley outside.”
“The scuffed heels, then. Had to have been dragged,” Octavia said, eyeing a dim light with a frown. “Not many people would commit murder above-ground anyway. Too conspicuous.”
“Could always have been dragged away from the murder site aboveground.”
“I like to check the most likely places first. Posey might know a thing or two.”
Vinyl grimaced at that. “You know he doesn’t like me.”
Octavia nodded. “That’s why I like him. Come on, I told the coroner we’d be back in an hour.”
They picked up the pace, both of the mares falling silent. Only the splash of their boots in the shallow water filled their ears. Octavia hated it. Even though the lights were somewhat new, a few of them had been busted or gone dark. It made the tunnels even more depressive.
To take her mind off of it, Octavia thought about her next move. Finding Posey would take some time. There were several places she could find him and all of them were near the Commons, which were filled with ponies of all sorts.
The Commons were where the groundwork for the railways had started. The populace of the city often ducked into the tunnels to avoid the rain, walking from one entrance to another. It was much swifter than walking aboveground, as there were no buildings to deal with in the Drab. So the city officials had decided to build a railway underground to speed the process.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t expected the beggars, prostitutes and criminals from establishing a another, seedier district in the warren of tunnels surrounding the large railways. They stayed out of the way, though, which was why the constables left them alone. For now.
The first sign that they were nearing the Commons was the whispers. Octavia knew they were echoes, but that didn’t stop her from glancing around nervously whenever they started. Eventually, they grew louder, along with the monstrous sound of steam-powered machines that laid the rails.
“I kinda wish they’d stop that racket at least for a few hours. At least make it sound a bit better...” Vinyl trailed off, then shook her head and continued. “How many rails do they really need to lay? I was just fine with walking, you know.”
Octavia smirked. “Most ponies are lazier than you, Vinyl. They’d prefer riding to sweating.”
“Sweating? Down here? How could anyone sweat in such a wonderfully dank tunnel? I think they just want to annoy me. Besides, it brought so many more ponies! Ugh, it’s terrible, all the smells and the stuffy attitudes. I could be crushed, you know. Not a concern for tall ponies like you, ‘Tavi, nah, but one I think of all the time! And if you ask me, more ponies means more heat means more sweating! So now they’ll be riding and sweating.”
“You really should get over your fear, Vinyl,” Octavia absently replied. “You’re a musician, in a way, after all. Crowds of ponies should be something you’re used to.”
Vinyl snorted. “I’m always alone on the stage. Ponies can dance all they want below me as long as I’m not being crushed between them.”
They turned a corner and a wave of sound washed over them. The area they were walking into was more of a hub of connecting tunnels. As a result, the ceiling and walls were a lot further apart than the small one they had been walking through. It was much better maintained, as well. All of the lights functioned and the floor was at least dry.
But the most jarring difference in the Commons were the ponies, to be sure. Hundreds walked through the crowd. They streamed to and from side passages, which local merchants had turned into miniature markets. Stalls sponsored by the city took the best places, transforming the already busy thoroughfare into a maze of items to be bought and traded.
Vinyl sighed at the display. “Let’s get this over with.”
Octavia patted her partner on the back. Vinyl’s reticence with the Commons was understandable and one she tried not to make light of, even if she sometimes failed. Crowds often terrified Vinyl the same way the underground affected Octavia.
But they had to make do, because that’s what the job required.
“Just stick near me. We’ll be out of here within the hour,” Octavia said as she joined the press of bodies.
Though Octavia was more comfortable in the distraction of crowds, she did agree that the mass of ponies smelled. She wrinkled her nose against the sour odor, which always managed to seem new and disgusting with each visit to the Commons. Of course, it wasn’t just the crowd, but some of the tunnels leading to less civilized areas of the Drab.
Hher eyes scanned the array of bobbling hats and manes. One advantage of her taller stature was the ability to see over the heads of a crowd. Octavia didn’t envy her partner, who was clutching her cloak in an iron grip. She vaguely heard Vinyl muttering over the din.
“Wouldn’t you like to ask me about how I’m doing, ‘Tavi? Of course not, Vinyl, that would be silly. Now, look at taht, a break in the crowd? No, just a stall. Maybe we should stop and grab a paper. Just for a break.”
Despite Octavia’s hurry, she couldn’t see Posey at his usual spots inside the main Commons tunnel. “Fine. He’s not here anyway.”
Vinyl’s grip turned into a pull. “Right this way, then, ‘Tavi. Nice stack of papers over there.”
Octavia let herself be pulled toward the kiosk, still scanning for Posey while she thought on where he would be. While the stallion normally stationed himself in the Commons, as an information broker, he would also sometimes place himself near the seedier tunnels.
“Huh, would you look at this? Railway nearly completed?” Vinyl muttered to the rustle of paper. “Means more ponies. Wonderful. How about the obituaries? They always cheer me right up.”
“Which railway? Foster or Tarson?” Octavia asked absently.
“Well why don’t you look at your own paper? I am not your servant, ‘Tavi.”
Octavia glanced over and held out her hoof to humor the pony.
Vinyl’s eyes narrowed. She slapped the paper into Octavia’s waiting hoof with a huff.
“Thank you.” Octavia’s eyes were immediately drawn to the headline, though she passed over an ad for guns and the obituary for Devon Powderpony, one of the local statesponies. Octavia frowned at the last. The statespony had seemed a good soul. For a politician.
“‘Foster is proud to announce that their line is nearly ready for its first railcar’,” she read aloud. “‘Due to the sudden donation of a client who prefers to remain anonymous and the hard work of our sterling rail-ponies and -machines, we have the honor of gracing the city with the first working railway from the Commons all the way to the new Foster Station.’”
“All the way to Foster Station?” Vinyl gasped, raising her hands to the ceiling. “Why, that’s fifteen whole minutes away! What a wonder this railway will be! Miraculous! Who would possibly want to walk that far?”
Octavia grinned at the pony. “You do have certain advantages most don’t, Vinyl.”
Her partner’s face twisted into a frown and she poked Octavia with her cane. “True, but a good walk never hurt anypony. Remember so I can say ‘I told you so’ later: these rails will make everypony as fat as they are lazy.”
“Should make it easier to catch the ponies we’re after then, eh?” Octavia asked teasingly.
“Any respectable murderer would keep himself away from these machines, ‘Tavi!” Her shoulders slumped and she sighed theatrically. “Sometimes I wonder if I was assigned to you as a punishment.”
Octavia snorted. “Speaking of, let’s get back to it.”
*****
It took them nearly twenty minutes to find Posey.
To Vinyl’s relief, however, their time in the crowds drew to an end swiftly. With their informant likely outside of the Commons, they were able to travel to the less populated tunnels that led off in various directions.
These tunnels were smaller, of course, but there was only a trickle of traffic. Dirty, torn posters were stuck to the wall, often painted over by vandals. The lights here were dim and water puddled on the floor, dripping from the ceiling. Vinyl knew Octavia hated these types of places.
She glanced at the taller pony, wondering again at their differences. Octavia had a posher accent than Vinyl, a trait she had started to lose over the last year. While Vinyl had spent most of her life in the city, Octavia was from towns further afield, places where the ponies dined in fancy halls and complimented each other’s hair than eating and sleeping on the streets of Seaddle.
Despite that, they had gotten along remarkably well. Octavia’s high-and-mighty personality had been a bit of a chore to break through at first, but Vinyl was confident the time spent was well worth it. Her partner had a sense of humor she found refreshing in a city where the rain was a synonym for the emotions of the populace.
All in all, there are worse ponies to be partnered with, she thought with a swing of her cane.
Octavia hesitated when they came to a sharp turn in the tunnel. The sudden change in pace nearly took her by surprise, but Vinyl’s reflexes were still sharp despite having been removed from the streets for years now. They stopped at the corner. Vinyl held her cane along her leg so that the tip rested on her shoe. Ready now for most things, she waited patiently for the investigation. She had long since trusted Octavia’s instincts to guide them true.
“Voices, up ahead,” Octavia said, her voice barely a whisper.
Vinyl glanced sidelong at the pony and raised a brow. Voices weren’t especially strange in the tunnels, even if the passage they had been walking along had been free of passerby. Still, she nodded and attempted to listen.
“I think I want more than information,” a stallion said.
“And I think you’d better back away before I leave your teeth on the floor, colt.” Vinyl grinned. That was Posey.
There was a pause and then a scuffle that ended with an exclamation of pain from a pony.
“Like I said. Hands off. If you want a smuggler, go look in the Commons. Plenty of city-bred runners looking for a few pigs to work for,” Posey said caustically.
A slap echoed in the tunnel.
“You bastard! Grab him!”
Vinyl glanced at Octavia, who had a dangerous look in her eye. Vinyl nodded toward the corner with a questioning glance. The other pony nodded.
They rounded the corner.
“Good evening, gentleponies,” Octavia called out.
Five heads turned toward them. Four of the thugs were earth ponies, and the pegasus currently being held in the air was Posey. All of them were surprised, though Vinyl could already see Posey’s expression twist into a snarl at the sight of her. She waved cheekily at him, plastering a large smile over her face.
“What do you want?” The one holding Posey against the wall snarled. He was a big one.
Octavia raised her eyebrows and glanced side to side as if the answer were obvious. “Heard a little scuffle with the pegasus, there. There a problem?”
One of the others was on the ground, holding a hoof overflowing with blood to his nose. His voice came out nasally. “None of yer damn business, mate.”
The other two men, one with a nice bowler hat on his head, formed a wall. Octavia continued forward until she was face to face with them. Even she had to look up at them, though the difference was slight.
“Ponies hurting others is always my business,” Octavia said blandly, looking bored. “You want to move aside?”
“Don’t need your damn help, ‘Tavi,” Posey yelled around the wall of muscle.
“You heard the pegasus. Shove off,” Bowler-hat growled, his massive hoof moving toward Octavia’s chest.
Before it got there, Vinyl’s cane intercepted it.
Non-Bowler looked confused for a moment. “Wha—?”
Vinyl smiled amiably at them. “Just a second, colts. You almost touched my friend there. Can’t let ya do that. Now why don’t we just talk this out?”
She pressed Bowler’s hand away in a quick motion and leaned forward until her cane touched the floor to emphasize her point.
“Sure don’t want yours either, Vinyl,” Posey piped up again.
Unfortunately by then, the situation was out of her hands.
Bowler, his face a beet red, began to swing.
Vinyl sighed. “It’s because I’m short, isn’t it?”
Adrenaline was a strange thing to Vinyl. Time seemed to stop. She processed the scene in front of her with a dispassionate quickness, threats and judgements whisking through her mind at lightning speed. The flame of power pulsed inside her forehead. She often wondered if others experienced even a fraction of what she did just before battle.
She wondered because she wasn’t like other unicorns.
Time snapped back into place.
Vinyl darted forward, faster than anyone would normally be able to. The pony’s hoof swung through the air, filling the space Vinyl’s head had occupied a moment before. She felt the wind of its passing tousle her hat, which she steadied with one hoof. With the other, she snapped the cane up to catch the pony in the elbow.
It hit with a meaty thunk, knocking the pony off balance. Bowler stumbled forward, leaving him open for a counter attack.
Vinyl obliged.
She kicked forward with her free foreleg, shoving against the side of the pony’s chest to send him into the wall. Bowler roared as he impacted head first, the hat doing little to cushion the blow.
Non-Bowler still managed to look confused, which bothered Vinyl. Normally thugs were smarter than this, even when facing her. This one, though, he still couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the fact that his very large friend had been soundly trounced by a pony slimmer than most pegasi.
It’s almost not even fair, she thought with a hint of regret.
She stabbed forward with her cane and drew on her magic, injecting a bit less strength into the blow than would probably be necessary. Non-Bowler needed to have at least a chance.
It hit the thug in the jaw, knocking the pony to the side. To his credit, the thug managed to recover spectacularly, turning completely around and staring at Vinyl with wide eyes. Anger appeared in Non-Bowler’s face then, along with an already purpling bruise on the side of his face.
Well, finally, Vinyl thought gleefully.
Non-Bowler swung and Vinyl dodged to the side again. Before she could attempt the same trick she’d pulled on the thug’s friend, Non-Bowler pulled his foreleg back. Vinyl’s cane swung through empty air.
Another punch followed, nearly catching her by surprise. Vinyl drew back, slapping the meaty fist with her cane. Even so, that only deflected its path into her shoulder. She grunted against the blow, but drew on a bit of her magic to deaden the pain. She could agonize later. Right now, she had to fight.
Non-Bowler didn’t pause in his attack, and by now the other two had reacted. While Vinyl fell against the wall from another hammering fist, Bloody Nose stood up and retreated into a side passage, pulling a pistol as he did so. Snarler followed his friend, throwing Posey to the ground behind an old stall with his own weapon already drawn.
Shots began to ring out on the other side of the hallway, close enough to make Non-Bowler flinch away. Vinyl rushed forward to take advantage of the opening, hoping the thugs wouldn’t feel that collateral damage was acceptable if it meant taking out their enemies.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Octavia taking cover behind a stack of steel rods. Bullets pinged off the metal, sending up brief flashes of sparks. Unfortunately, the metal wasn’t solid, so some shots managed to streak through the openings. She heard Octavia curse as one bullet came particularly close.
No time to worry about her now, Vinyl thought grimly, smashing her fist into Non-Bowler’s stomach.
The pony doubled over, his breath whooshing out in a rush. Vinyl brought her knee up into her opponent’s face, snapping the pony’s head back and ending the threat. Non-Bowler’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell limply to the ground.
With that threat taken care of, and Bowler already down from a few well-placed bullets by Octavia, Vinyl turned toward the two men down the hallway.
They were leaning around the passageway, guns pointed at Octavia. As soon as she had taken care of Non-Bowler, however, they swiveled toward him.
Vinyl ducked and dove forward underneath the first round of bullets. She cast a spell as she finished a roll, narrowly deflecting the next slug, which ricocheted against the floor and taking out a nearby light.
“Celestia dammit, Vinyl, this is why I hate you!” Posey roared over the din, careful to keep his head down. “Everytime I see you, bullets get themselves involved! Just die already!”
She grinned at him before focusing her attention on the pistols ahead. One of them pulled back for a reload. That was her chance. Octavia obligingly stopped firing as well.
Vinyl put on a burst of speed and galloped down the hall. She sped down the hallway and drew up a magical shield to deflect Bloody Nose’s next round. She wasn’t quick enough.
The bullet grazed her arm, pain shooting through the limb with the spray of blood. She grunted, her horn flaring again to numb herself. It slowed her down as she concentrated, but it was worth the trade off.
Despite her deceleration, she made it to the passageway before the other gun reloaded. Snarler looked up as she slid to a stop, the pony’s hooves clumsily attempting to load rounds in the chambers.
Bloody Nose was under no such handicap. He shifted his gun to point at Vinyl.
Too slow, Vinyl thought with a mental shake of her head.
Her cane, floating in her magic grasp, impacted the pistol, smacking it out of Bloody Nose’s hand. The pony yelped and drew back his injured hoof, but by then Vinyl was already there. She thrust a hoof into the pony’s already bleeding nose. The blow prompted an agonized scream.
Vinyl shoved her shoulder into Terribly Bloody Nose’s chest. Her horn flared, sending a minor blast of magic into the pony’s stomach. The trick sent the pony flying toward Vinyl’s other target.
Snarler dropped his gun and attempted to catch the dead weight hurtling toward him. He fell over as they impacted, slamming against the floor hard enough to make both of them groan.
“Give up now?” Vinyl asked with a pleasant smile, standing over the two ponies.
Snarler looked up at her with frightened eyes. “Y-yes.”
Vinyl frowned. “Too bad. You shot me.”
She snapped her cane against the side of Snarler’s head, knocking him unconscious. After turning around and whistling her way into the hallway, it occurred to her that Snarler hadn’t been the one to shoot her.
Oh, well. Vinyl shrugged. I’m sure he deserved it.
*****
Octavia offered a hoof.
Posey smacked it away with a glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We are looking for information,” Octavia said smoothly, her face remaining unsurprised.
The brown-maned pegasus stood up and wiped the dust off of his feathers. He was dressed all in black, this time, an outfit he wore only when he didn’t want to be found.
Obviously it didn’t work this time, Octavia thought. She holstered her pistol and nodded over to Vinyl, who was whistling a tuneless melody.
“Well, I guess you damn well deserve it for saving my hide, then,” Posey replied with a scowl, pointedly ignoring Vinyl. “What do you want to know?”
“Just looking for a body, dear pegasus,” Vinyl said, badly imitating Octavia’s accent.
Posey shifted his glare to her. “Give me your cane and I’ll make one.”
“A pony, finely dressed. Dark mane, expensive shoes, scuffed. Dirty, like he was walking through the Drab. Murdered last night, might have been carried by a gang member eager to keep it upstairs,” Octavia listed before the two came to blows.
He squinted at her and ran a hoof through his short mane. “Last night?”
“Probably midnight. Murderers like that point in time, I’ve noticed,” Vinyl pointed out cheerily.
“Could be I seen him. One of the Blood Stream were carrying a body last night.” Posey spit near Vinyl’s hooves. “Could ask them.”
Octavia frowned. “Blood Stream, huh? This is rather far from their base of operations.”
“Heard they got hired for a job last night, too. Something to do with the railway machines.” He shrugged. “Maybe they’re helping Foster. Buncha damn sellouts.”
“Maybe,” Octavia repeated, thinking. Blood Stream might be the culprit, especially if it had been poison. “Is there anything else of interest I should know?”
Posey crossed his arms. “Gave you two tidbits for getting Vinyl injured. Consider yourself informed.”
Vinyl pouted. “I love it when you hate me.”
Octavia sighed and gave Posey a nod. “As you wish. Would you give me an hour before you let ponies know I asked you anything?”
His face softened into a smirk. “You know I’ll tell if I’m asked, ‘Tavi. Makes me useful. That’s how I stay alive. Well, that and the help of two buffoons like you.”
“I am quite far from a buffoon,” Vinyl continued poshly. “I’ll have you know I’m quite graceful.”
“Shut up, Vinyl’,” Octavia and Posey said together, though the pegasus’ voice was filled with more scorn.
*****
Octavia led the way out of the Drab. She popped the ponyhole cover up and let the rain pour in. It pattered against her hat and coat—white noise to her. She was more concerned with the clouds above her, finally.
Hate the Drab, she thought. It was almost a mantra, something she said each time she left the sewers alive.
She reached down and helped Vinyl out of the hole. The pony had tied a bandage around her wound. She seemed back to her cheerful self.
Which was just as well, considering their destination.
“Lead the way, Vinyl,” Octavia said, bowing with mock servitude.
Vinyl nodded imperiously and marched down the street.
They cantered across the street. Pony-drawn carriages ran back and forth, acting as obstacles the two easily avoided. There was even one of the new ponyless carriages puttering its way down the cobblestone. Stallions, mares and foals stopped to stare at its passing, mesmerized by its novelty.
Octavia ignored it. While she wasn’t one to shy away from new inventions, the new steam-powered carriage had nothing to do with her mission. She hunched her shoulders against the rain and followed Vinyl down an alleyway.
She had time to think while they headed toward the restaurant Vinyl said the Blood Stream leader frequented. The pieces of a possibility were coming together nicely, but Octavia felt there was more going on than she imagined. The fact that a Blood Stream member had taken the body and worked on the railways was more than a coincidence, but she didn’t understand why the pony needed to die.
What would they kill an investor for?
The gangs were powerful, sure, with some sway in the city, but the Blood Stream was a mid-level gang at best.
Could be a bid for power, Octavia guessed. She crossed another street after Vinyl and nodded to a passing coachpony. Still, that doesn’t seem likely. Working for Foster might give them a few more contracts and a couple of favors in the railway’s sponsors, but killing a pony wouldn’t do anything but bring them bad press, and the attention of the law.
“We’re here,” Vinyl said.
Octavia looked up.
The restaurant was more of a pub, though there were tables outside, underneath a tastefully dark green awning. A metal fence wound its way around the area, turning at ninety degrees to connect with the building. A sign hung on the building proper. Variente’s. She recognized the name of the local Griffon chef.
“Expensive,” Octavia offered.
Vinyl nodded and they moved under the awning. “Ponies like spending money if they have it, I’ve noticed.”
“You sure he’s here?”
“Right over there. The fat one.” She pointed his cane.
Octavia followed the cane to a particularly corpulent pony.
He wore sensible clothing, though he looked out of place among the rest of the diners. A waitress came by, and the leader of the Blood Stream seemed to delight in making her uncomfortable. He winked at her and gestured to the stack of empty plates in front of him as she put down another.
“Thank you, my dear. You may leave.”
Octavia walked toward her quarry and whispered out of the side of his mouth. “Name?”
“Fahrenheit. Call him Mister Faren, though. He’s one of those ponies.” Vinyl emphasized her point with a slight raise of her brow.
Octavia did know those ponies—ones that felt the need to act superior toward everypony they met. She’d dealt with them all her life.
Her boss sprang to mind most easily.
“Mister Faren!” Octavia called out with what she hoped was sincere enthusiasm.
Faren glanced up at her as if judging a piece of meat. “What do you want, Investigator?”
Octavia opened her mouth to reply, but she stopped herself instead. She frowned. “How did you—?”
“It’s in your bearing,” the fat pony gestured at her with a fork. “Your walk. Your pistols are shined, taken care of. You’re a distinctive pony besides all that. I know who you are, Octavia. Now what do you want?”
Octavia felt a sense of unease, but fought to hide it. Did the pony really know who she was? Her family name wasn’t one she bandied about in the city. “I’m looking for some information, Mister Faren.”
Faren tucked back into his food. “Proceed. And sit. Impolite not to talk with a pony when not at eye level.”
“You moved a body, Mister Faren,” Octavia sprang right into why she was here as she sat down. Vinyl stood to her right. “Why?”
“Bad for business. You know how it is, Octavia.”
She frowned again, offput by the use of her name. But that was probably the point. Octavia reevaluated the pony. Fahrenheit obviously hadn’t taken lead of a gang like the Blood Stream by being lucky.
“You’re rather free with that kind of information, aren’t you?”
Faren choked on his food for a moment before recovering. “I know the pony who did it. You can arrest him, if you like. Lad doesn’t know anything, though. Dumb as a rock, he is. Didn’t even tell me about the body until after he dumped it, of course.”
Octavia felt the last was a lie, but she let it slide. “And I don’t suppose you know why he died?”
“Probably ticked off the wrong people, I don’t know.” Faren spit a bone into one of the empty plates. “Look, I’m busy having lunch. I’ve got nothing else to talk to you about, so please leave. But if you do find whoever you’re looking for, be sure to send him to me if you can. Might be useful.”
“Him, eh?” Vinyl said with a grin.
Faren’s eyes darted to the shorter pony and glittered dangerously. “Figure of speech, of course. Could be a mare, for all I know. Now leave, please, or I’ll register a complaint with the constables.”
“Thank you for your time, Mister Faren,” Octavia said and stood up. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Threatening tone of voice there, Investigator,” Faren replied darkly. “Could get you in trouble if you’re not careful. Just a bit of advice, you understand, one pony to another.”
Octavia fought the urge to draw her pistol. “Of course.”
*****
“Well that was a waste of time,” Vinyl finally burst out. She’d been quiet for long enough, since she normally wasn’t very helpful when Octavia talked to suspects.
“No, he gave us something. You noticed it,” Octavia pointed out, serious as ever, though the flush on her neck was evidence she wasn’t at all at ease.
Vinyl cleared her throat. “I meant your insult. It was a waste of time, ‘Tavi. Ponies like him don’t respond well to things like that.”
Octavia paused, dozens of emotions crossing her face before she settled back into her customary mask. “I was angry.”
“You were stupid,” Vinyl pointed out, rapping her cane against the other pony’s legs. “Where are we going?”
Octavia didn’t seem put off by the sudden change of subject. She never was anymore. No fun, Vinyl thought.
“Back to the morgue.” Octavia sighed. “Hopefully Doctor Perish has something for us.”
*****
Vinyl was right, of course. She had been stupid. Ponies like Faren often remembered slights like the one she’d made. Octavia wouldn’t be in the pony’s good graces the next time she needed something from the leader.
Well, I must make sure I’m never put in that position, she thought, grimacing.
They reached the morgue just ten minutes over the hour that Octavia had promised to meet the Doctor. The fight had been unexpected, but she was happy she’d managed to arrive before midday. It helped that Variente’s was located in the same general area as the morgue.
Vinyl was the first up the steps to the building. Water dripped down the sides of the stone building, the last remnants of the lessening rain. The break wouldn’t last long, but Octavia was glad for the occasional glimpse of sunshine through the clouds above. It reminded her of home in Hoofington.
“Doctor Perish?” Octavia called out as Vinyl held the door open for her.
No one answered, though that wasn’t unexpected. The doctor could have been in one of the other rooms in the back. The inside of the building was little more than a hallway with several doors on each side. From what she could remember, the area where the doctor examined the bodies was the second one on the left.
“Come on,” Octavia said.
“I always love coming here,” Vinyl replied dreamily. “Makes me wish these buildings were bigger. Hold more of all the useless ponies in this city.”
Octavia opened the door to the morgue. Inside was a sterile, tiled room with a drain on the floor and a metal table directly over it. A body lay on top of the gurney with a sheet over it. “If I didn’t know better, you’d sound like a murderer yourself.”
“If you knew better, you’d know I’m far awesomer than a simple murderer.”
Octavia smiled. “Yes, well, ‘awesomer’ is not a word, Vinyl.”
“‘Not a word’,” Vinyl mocked in her fake accent, then laughed. “You rich—”
“Doctor Perish?” Octavia called out, interrupting Vinyl’s verbal barb. There was a room connecting to the one they had walked into. Maybe he was in there. “Go check the body. See what you can find. I’ll look into what the doctor’s ‘up to’, as it were.”
“Up to his knees in guts, probably.”
“Vinyl!” Octavia scolded.
With Vinyl whistling tunelessly behind her, Octavia walked across the tile floor. Her boots echoed strangely in the room. The smell of antiseptic filled her nose. She was grateful for her jacket, because the room sent goosebumps along her spine.
“Doctor?” She poked her head in the room. A row of cabinets took up the left side, while a couple of sinks filled the right. The door at the other end of the room softly clicked against the lock, open just a crack.
Octavia walked in with a frown. Where was the doctor? And why was the door open? She sighed and trotted her way to the door. A sneeze came over her as she reached for the door and she paused to wipe her nose.
Before she could reach for the handle, Vinyl’s voice came from the other room. “Octavia, come here.”
Octavia frowned at the use of her full name. She left the door alone and walked back to the room. Leaning against the threshold, she looked toward Vinyl. Her partner was standing over the body with a look of shock on her face. Octavia was confused until she looked at the corpse.
“Doctor Per...” she trailed off, jaw slackened.
Adrenaline pounded in her veins and Octavia twisted back to the door, her pistol drawn out in one smooth movement.
Nothing but the creaking door greeted her.
“Vinyl, what the hell is going on?”
Vinyl cursed. “I wish I knew. Dammit. Dammit!”
Octavia walked backwards until she was at the table, her gun trained on the back door. She glanced down at the corpse.
Definitely Perish. Damn.
“How?”
Vinyl tapped her cane agitatedly against the floor. “Same as the guy this morning. No marks on him. I checked, thinking it was the investor.”
Octavia glanced back at the doctor’s face. Perish’s mouth hung just slightly open, a hint of yellow peeking through.
“Vinyl, look in his mouth.”
“What?”
“His mouth,” Octavia gestured. “There’s something in there. I’ll cover the doors.”
She heard Vinyl reach into the pony’s mouth with a soft slick, but her attention was on the clicking back door. Something was wrong with it.
Why would it be open?
The attacker could have left in a hurry. But no, if it was the same pony, they wouldn’t have been so sloppy. She gritted her teeth as another thought occurred to her.
“Where’s the other body?” Octavia whispered.
“It’s a note, ‘Tavi,” Vinyl said. “Says ‘Unic’. That code for some— oh.”
“Unicorn,” Octavia confirmed. “The good doctor must have figured that much out and managed to get a note in his mouth before they killed him. Smart pony.”
Vinyl sighed and tapped the floor angrily. “Damn shame to lose him.”
“Watch the door. I’m checking the back,” Octavia ordered. She cautiously walked to the door she’d almost closed and crouched down beside it. She furrowed her brows and glanced at the bottom.
There, just barely visible, was a wire. A chill shot down her spine.
Tripwire.
Connected to what? she thought. Her eyes followed the line, but it vanished from view behind the door. She’d have to investigate it from the outside.
“Vinyl, let’s get out of here and go around the back. There’s a tripwire. I don’t want somepony else walking in here and getting themselves killed.”
“Tripwire?” Vinyl was incredulous. “For what?”
Octavia grunted and walked to the hallway door, peering cautiously out. “Us, more than likely. Somepony doesn’t want this investigation to happen. If they killed Doctor Perish and took the body, I doubt they would blink at murdering a pair of investigators.”
They walked outside, weapons drawn, but there was no one about. Not many ponies wanted to walk past a morgue. It was considered bad luck.
Octavia and Vinyl walked around the back. They found the tripwire easily enough. Attached to it was a small bomb. Octavia drew in a deep breath and calmly disabled it.
“This is bigger than just a gang, ‘Tavi,” Vinyl said solemnly.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Octavia sniffed. “And I smell smoke.”
*****
The fire was Variente’s.
Vinyl knew it would be. After leaving the morgue, the two had raced to the source of the fire. It hadn’t taken them long to retrace their steps.
A fire brigade was already bringing the flames down to a manageable level. Clusters of ponies watched or were questioned by the constables. Vinyl moved close enough to one of the officers to hear.
“One dead, looks like. Lucky no one else was hurt.” one of the constables grumbled.
“Who was it?” another asked.
The first officer shrugged. “F- something. The pony’s wallet was burned, but we got that much from it.”
“Fahrenheit,” Octavia whispered, her eyes as hard as amethysts.
Vinyl nodded slowly. Someone is killing the ponies who knew about the murder.
Apparently Octavia reached the same conclusion, because she suddenly started running toward the nearest ponyhole several streets away. “Posey’s next.”
Vinyl frowned at the thought. Posey was a good fighter, but he was also just one pony. While she had no doubt he could have taken the four thugs they’d beat up earlier, the fact that three men were dead who knew about the murder was more than enough to make her nervous.
“Dammit, Posey, learn to keep your mouth shut,” she muttered under her breath, racing with Octavia to reach the Drab—and hopefully keep the murderer from adding another tally to his list.
*****
They followed the sound of gunfire.
Octavia was galloping for all she was worth down the passageways. Those who braved the smaller tunnels like the one they were in darted out of her way. The pistol in her mouth probably had something to do with that.
Vinyl kept pace beside her and the two mares soon found themselves at the area they’d dispatched the four thugs. Posey was no longer there, but the shots were closer.
Octavia stood in the middle of a three way intersection, wondering which path to take. It sounded like the shots were coming from the right, but with the way the acoustics worked down here, it was entirely possible he was wrong.
“Dammit,” she muttered. “Vinyl. Pick one.”
“Right,” the other pony said and ran down the tunnel. Octavia followed, trusting the shorter pony’s instinct.
Their small tunnel eventually opened up into a larger one. It was similar to the one they had just exited, aside from the pair of rails in the middle of the passageway. Octavia thought it was the Foster railway, but she couldn’t be sure. It didn’t really matter, though.
The huge tunnel gradually curved as they ran, following the increasing volume of the battle ahead. It sounded like there were more ponies than just Posey involved. Of course, if she could hear the battle going on, the local constables could, too.
Her suspicion was confirmed when the tunnel straightened out and the battle unfolded ahead of her. Bodies littered the ground like fallen bags of corn. Most of them wore the uniform of city officials. The living constables were huddled behind a railway machine, its massive bulk taking up two thirds of the tunnel’s height. Why the machines were built that big, Octavia didn’t know, but right then she was glad for it.
Posey wasn’t with the constables, though. Instead, he was huddled between two support pillars on the stairs leading to a wide passageway further up the wall. He was holding off the ponies trying to break onto the balcony the stairs were connected to. That was where the ponies were firing from.
Octavia grimaced and motioned for Vinyl to pass her.
The shorter pony nodded and dashed forward, horn already glowing with magic. She could temporarily form shields and hold weapons, so she was more suited to close range combat. Not to mention she would be the only one able to go hoof-to-hoof with another unicorn.
Octavia pointed her pistol as she ran and clicked a button on the side of it. The mechanism whirred momentarily, then began to glow as a bullet was created inside. Customized from the weight to a new, magnetic property, the bullet would home in and punch through most light armor. The positives of being a Melody, she thought.
Her family created magical weapons.
The bullet shot forward faster than she could blink, impacting one of the ponies firing on Posey. The thug fell, his metal breastplate pierced by the high-velocity slug. Octavia nodded grimly. She wasn’t going to manipulate her bullets into stun rounds like she had for the thugs who’d attacked Posey earlier.
A pair of constables glanced back at the sound of the shot, almost turning their guns on Vinyl as the unicorn jumped on top of the railway machine and then leaped to the balcony in a graceful, magically-enhanced movement. A flash of steel shined in the tunnel lights as Vinyl drew her sword.
Thankfully she didn’t rush into the wide tunnel like Octavia thought she was going to. Instead, the unicorn looked down to something on the other side of the railway machine and leaped there.
“What are you doing, Vinyl?” Octavia whispered, then turned her attention to the constables. “Investigator Octavia. I’m here to help.”
“‘Tavi?” the constable who seemed to be in charge asked, his hair a salty grey with a thick mustache. “Yer that one with the... weapon, aren’t ye?”
She nodded. A select few in the constabulary knew where she’d gotten it. Obviously this was one of them.
“Maybe we’ll get out of this alive, then,” the constable said, spitting on the ground. “Name’s Major Vale.”
Octavia nodded distractedly and tried to get a good look at the ponies attacking Posey. Blood Stream, of course, but under new management, it seemed. “Sir, you need to get your officers out of here. My associate and I can handle the situation.”
The Major stared at her. “You’re telling us to leave?”
“There’s a dark-magic user on the gang’s side, sir. This unicorn can do nasty things to ponies like yourself.”
“Hell,” Major Vale replied incredulously. “Well, I didn’t live this long by taking stupid chances. We’ll go secure the other end of the line and ask for our own unicorns. Try not to die.”
Octavia wondered at how easy that had been. Most officers wouldn’t leave a fight until it was won or lost. It seemed that this Major Vale knew what dark magic could do, though. Unicorns that used it were rare, but deadly.
Kind of like me, she thought and sent another manipulated bullet into the hallway. It ricocheted, keeping its shape and slamming into another armored pony. Unfortunately, it hadn’t killed him. The thought occurred that armor was a strange thing to see these days, especially on gang members. They were obviously well funded to be equipped like that.
“Just what is going on?” she muttered to herself. She covered the officers’ retreat with a couple more rounds of her pistol. Still, somepony braved her fire and cut down a fleeing officer. The others didn’t even stop to help.
“You’re going to pay for that,” Octavia said as she reloaded.
Her next three bullets found their targets and put them down for good.
*****
Is the entire Blood Stream gang here?
The thought flew through Vinyl’s thoughts as she whirled around wildly, slicing through limbs with her sword and cracking bones with a snap of his cane. Quick-placed shields took care of any shots that managed to get close to her. Ponies had fallen around her like moths to the flame, unprepared for her assault. Unicorns like her were dangerous for exactly that reason, feared by many. Maybe that’s why she hated being in crowds. She was flammable.
But now the thugs were starting to regroup.
Vinyl cursed and darted behind a stack of steel bars. Just like the ones Octavia had hidden behind in the other tunnel earlier, these had gaps that bullets shot through easily. Still, it offered her enough cover to think up her next move.
She could hear Octavia firing on the other side of the railway machine, so she was obviously busy with her own troubles. Posey, on the other hand, was pinned. But the bullets just made him curse that much more.
“Celestia damn you sons of Griffons! Stop bucking shooting! I’ve got a bullet with your name on it!”
Vinyl smirked at his insults. They were unimaginative for him, which meant he was focusing more on staying alive than coming up with ways to harass those around him.
Always a good thing, Vinyl thought as a bullet that passed through her cover sliced into the edge of her wide-brimmed hat. What to do, what to do... ah, nothing for it, then.
“Octavia! Little help here?” she yelled.
*****
“Give me a second!” Octavia shouted as she ascended the ladder to the top of the railway machine, clutching her bleeding side where a bullet had entered. She ducked behind the control panel, its solid form enough to shield her from the hail of bullets, and attempted to bandage her wound while she glanced around.
The gauges and levers used to drive the thing unfamiliar to her. She had thought about using it herself to clear the way for Vinyl, but she wouldn’t even know how to start it. Not that there seemed to be much fuel left in the tank anyway, judging by one of the gauges she knew how to read. The thing probably wouldn’t even start.
“How’s that second going for you, ‘Tavi?”
Octavia fired another couple of rounds and managed to nail one of the ruffians. “It’s turning into a minute. Just hang on, would you please?”
There were three left in the hallway, not to mention the five pinning Vinyl and Posey. Her gun had, at most, enough material for ten more bullets.
Lovely odds. I just have to make these shots count, she thought grimly.
Even if she did take the others out, though, there was still the matter of the unicorn. He hadn’t shown up yet, but Octavia had a feeling he was around, watching the battle unfold. That worried her, because she and Posey would be in big trouble facing a unicorn. Only other unicorns could fight them in relative safety.
Octavia popped up again, manipulating the next round into a magnet and upping the density again. While she could only manipulate the bullets twice before they disintegrated, the modification she’d made this time would home in on one of the metal chestplates and hopefully punch through. Its exit velocity was enough to take it away from his gun without homing in on that.
Unfortunately, she’d forgotten the giant, metal beast she was sitting on. The bullet dropped as it attempted to magnetize to the railway machine. As a result, it thudded harmlessly into the hallway’s cement.
Nine bullets left and one wasted right out of the gate. Good work, ‘Tavi, Octavia could hear Vinyl’s voice berating her in her mind for the mistake. She never stopped to wonder why it was her friend’s voice she heard whenever she did something wrong.
Her next two rounds were used to full effect, one slicing through a pony’s neck while the other buried itself in another pony’s head. They both fell, leaving one left alive. The survivor ran away before Octavia could fire another shot.
“Gangs and the Watch aren’t so different after all,” Octavia muttered darkly. She turned her attention to the last five, noticing there were actually four when she counted them. The fifth was laying across a stack of boxes, shot through the head.
Posey. She smiled.
*****
Four. She could take four. Maybe.
Posey had shot one, which meant he had saved her life, bringing his tally closer to hers. That was why he hated her—he owed her his life. That was a big deal to him, but one she held over his head because she enjoyed making people mad.
It’s what she was good at.
What she was also good at was killing. She saw her opportunity when two of the four remaining gun-stallions and -mares ducked down to reload. Vinyl dashed forward, trusting Octavia to cover her. After all, she couldn’t hear anymore shooting from the hallway near Posey, so that had to mean ‘Tavi was ready to finally help.
A shot rang out, throwing one of the thugs back. Blood sprayed across the rails and the boxes the Blood Stream were using for cover. Three left. Better odds. Another shot echoed in the tunnel, but it missed its target and embedded itself in the wooden box. Vinyl grinned when Octavia cursed the miss. The younger, posher Octavia would have blushed at such a word.
The two who had taken cover to reload popped back up, but by then she was already there. She leaped above the boxes, her cane knocking one gun away while her sword sliced through the other pony’s hooves. Both weapons dropped and the two gang members fell back beneath her onslaught.
She made short work of them, cracking the skull of one with her cane and stabbing the other through the eye. She hadn’t even needed to create a shield to take them out. Too easy.
One left.
Before she could turn all the way around, three bullets flew through the air. One came from Octavia, who missed spectacularly. Another came from Posey, who managed to score a direct hit on the last gunpony’s chest.
The last one slammed into Vinyl’s back.
*****
Octavia watched with wide eyes as her friend fell.
Blood flew, spraying across the ground.
Vinyl hit the ground, magic auras no longer clutching cane or sword.
Time seemed to stop.
It sped up again as Vinyl’s body hit the ground.
“NO!” The cry was torn from her throat.
“Isn’t that a shame,” somepony said from his left.
Octavia turned toward the voice, her pistol already drawn up. She nearly pulled the trigger when she saw him, but shock made her hesitate.
Devon Powderpony was standing in front of her.
The gun was jerked from her hand by invisible strings. Octavia cursed, grabbing for it.
“Now, now, we can’t have that. Your family is dangerous with guns,” Devin said as he pulled the gun into his waiting hoof.
Devin Powderpony was supposed to be dead. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be a unicorn, either. Octavia had a list of all unicorns in the city. Devon’s name was not on that list.
“Wha—?”
She was suddenly jerked up from her cover in his magical grasp and thrown over the railway machine. The ground hit hard and she felt something crack. Her breath fell away and she rolled so her eyes were staring at the ceiling. It seemed like it was getting closer. Panic filled her.
No, I don’t want to die here. Not here. Not underground.
“Well, at least I didn’t have to go looking for you,” Devin said from the top of the railway machine, hooves tapping absently against the metal. “That wouldn’t have been fun.”
Vinyl’s dead. Posey’s next. I’m going to die underground.
“Unfortunately for you, you won’t die as easy as the others. Posey here will live for awhile, since someone like him is useful,” Devin continued.
Posey shot the rest of his clip at the pony. “Screw you!”
The Conjure just raised an eyebrow as the shots were deflected away by a sudden shield. “Perhaps a bit of punishment would be in order, though.”
His horn glowed. Lightning shot from it, engulfing Posey. The pegasus screamed.
Octavia fought down her panic as the ceiling grew closer. It wasn’t possible. It was a trick—a unicorn spell to mess with her mind.
With her heart continued to beat like a drum, she repeated that in her mind. Unfortunately, her brain wouldn’t listen to logic.
Devin’s face looked down on her and frowned. “The Blood Stream wasn’t very useful, was it? Of course, if it distracted you long enough for me to finish everything else, I guess it was worth the loss. Too bad you didn’t die back at the morgue. I thought you’d try and close the door.”
“Why?”
He chuckled. “As if I’d tell you. Trust me, it’s for the betterment of the city. You were just in the way.”
Octavia turned and tried to ignore the walls shambling toward her in a grim march. Movement in the corner of her eye barely registered. It was unimportant next to being buried alive.
“Well, I guess it’s time for me to go. I’ve got a new railway to build with Foster done. Just need to kill another couple of investors and... oh, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” Devin laughed again. “I’ve always had a gloating problem.”
Octavia grabbed for the rail. If she could focus on something else—.
Pain wracked her foreleg as electricity ripped through it. She felt herself scream as she writhed away from it.
“Smart of you,” Devin said, his back to the boxes. “But it wouldn’t have helped anyway.”
Despite the agony, Octavia opened her eyes. What she saw nearly made her think she was dead.
The Conjure frowned. “What are you—?”
He paused, glancing down at the sword piercing his chest.
“Oh. I thought she was dead.”
Vinyl coughed up some blood and pushed the body off her sword. “Everyone always underestimates the short pony.”
*****
“He murdered the investor because he needed the pony’s money,” Octavia explained. Bandages covered her middle and right foreleg. “He faked his death in order to work more securely with the gangs. I’m sure there was a life insurance policy on himself, as well, but I can only guess.”
Her boss, the Mayor of Seaddle, grunted. “And the reason for all of this?”
Octavia paused, looking up to consider the window behind the mayor. Droplets of water ran down it, rain pelting the glass. “I believe he wanted to finish the railways and own them from shadows. He could have even planned to turn the city against you, but I can only guess at his intentions.”
The mayor nodded, waving her away. His desk was filled with paperwork and he looked at it gloomily. “Good work, Investigator Octavia. You may leave.”
Fighting the urge to sweep the mayor’s documents off his desk in a fit of pique, Octavia simply closed her eyes. She turned on her heels and left through the office’s door, its glass emblazoned with the Mayor’s name.
Constables stood at attention on either side of the doorway, while several others crowded the hallway. They were whispering to each other, smiles or disbelief on their faces.
They were gathered around Vinyl, of course.
“And then Octavia missed again, leaving me to take a bullet in the back. Can you believe the nerve of this mare?”
Octavia’s eyes narrowed as the constables all laughed.
“So then—oh, hey. Finish the report already?” Vinyl looked up innocently at her, her chest bandaged and her broken foreleg in a sling.
Octavia gritted her teeth. “Yes, but we’ve still got work to do. Come on.”
Vinyl grinned. “You got it, Octy.”
“A new nickname?” Octavia rolled her eyes.
“Of course! ‘Tavi got boring,” Vinyl explained cheerily.
The unicorn fell in beside the earth pony and the two Investigators walked through the crowd, back into the rain-strewn streets.
