Tales by Balefirelight (a Fallout: Equestria Group Collab)

Sophos

by Sophos

“Can't say I'm surprised partner.”

The living Private Eye Pony snaked the corpse's cigarettes and notepad.

“You don't say Chasey!” said the young Pegasus buck, nearly spitting out his pencil.

“I wasn't talking to you, Numb-Bucks!”

She flipped through the notepad until she found what she needed. Once satisfied she turned her attention to other itches; she took off her shady Pork-Pie hat for once, ran a hoof through her smart brown mane, and fished out the gold-plated Hippo lighter from her charcoal trench coat. She took a long draw off a cigarette, then blew multiple rings into high-class suite.

“Chasey!.” The colt cried. “There's no smoking in here.”

“No murder either.” She said between puffs. “So just cool your jets.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

The colt continued to jot down clues, but he could make little sense of all this.

“I don't get it Chasey. Supposedly, your ex-partner was looking for a missing mare, but there isn't any sign he found her. Even if he had stumbled onto something heavy, it would be way easier for The Masque to just pay him off. So what gives!? Why murder him in your OWN racket? Who was he working-”

“Hush up Bucko.” She cut him off. “Don't rack your brain like you should that outfit! Seriously, that leather jacket and a shoddy fedora; are you a grease-pony or with the press?”

The colt was visibly hurt. His eyes settled on the fresh corpse; dressed in a fine, chocolate trench coat and matching Sten's hat with a golden band. He reached out for it, and got a buck in the hoof for it.

“Yowza!”

“Sorry Prancy, I hate to see duds like that go to waste too but I owe the fella too much to rob him.”

Just then, three formally suited Ponies wearing white masks and brandishing canes piled into the room.

“You goons wanna talk this out?” Prancy asked smugly, still puffing away.

One of them locked the door.

“I guess not.” She chuckled.

A Masque goon made his advance, cane levitating at his side. She spat her cigarette into the his face. It bounced off harmlessly, landing on the plush carpet. The goon stared incredulously at it, just long enough for Prancy to put a hoof across his face.

“Yeah!” The colt cheered. “That's why they call her Trick Chasey!”

“Well, amongst other things.” Chasey mumbled to herself.

Goon #2 came in swinging. Chasey ducked two swings then threw a left hook into the goon's ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs and the cane out of his mouth. She didn't give him any time to rest before hitting him with an uppercut, jab, jab, straight combination. The young buck hid away in the corner of the room, mocking punches and cheering.

“Watch out!” He cried.

The third goon had circled around and caught Chasey around the neck with his cane. Now the first goon was back up and looking for payback. He swung his cane at Chasey's head. She covered up with a hoof, losing ground in her fight for air, the clash of the hardwood cane and her foreleg let out a soft crack. She wanted to scream, but found herself gagged. Chasey was losing the fight.

“Take this!”

A large vase shattered over goon the 3rd's head, putting him on stilts. Chasey took the opportunity to buck the masked strangler into the dresser, right next to young buck. Chasey launched herself at the first goon, taking another caning to the shoulder. She reared and headbutted the goon with enough force to crack his mask; she followed with a straight, jab, right hook, left hook, right hook, left hook, right hook...left hook...UPPERCUT that sent the poor goon sprawling. That's when the second goon got back up.

Meanwhile, the third goon came back to most of his senses; he wanted to paint the room red, starting with the little silver Pegasus.

“Do you have any idea what vase was worth, or who's paycheck it's coming out of?” said the goon.

The frightened buck gulped, and ran. The goon chased him into a corner; with no where to run, he threw that straight Chasey had shown him. He busted the goon's lip.

“Chasey! I did it!”

“Kinda busy right now!” said Chasey, between conking goons #1 and #2's heads together.

Goon #3 licked the blood off his muzzle and charged at the Pegasus. He dipped under the goon's legs, sending the masked ruffian headfirst into the wall. The goon was angrier than ever, turning on colt and demanding blood. The young buck backpedaled and tripped over the finely dressed corpse in the center of the suite; landing on something metallic and compact.

Chasey heard what sounded like tiny balloons popping, or perhaps a volley of blowdarts. She turned and saw the goon clutching his chest, where a mess of red spots were growing; the silenced .22 was rattling in the Pegasus's teeth.

“This only the second time I've killed anypony...and that first time that machine did all the work.”

“Well, a gun is a machine.” Chasey replied to the young buck.

“Oh yeah...but this doesn't make sense! If your old partner had a silenced gun, why didn't he use it? Why did he let them get that close. Unless...he didn't know, or trusted-”

“Come on Bucky, we gotta book it out of here.”

“W-Wait!” The colt rose to his hooves. “What about the rendezvous?”

“You wanna walk in on another corpse and ambush kid!? Do it on your own, 'cause I'm not having it.”

“But we're just leaving!” He mad a miserable attempt at standing tall. “What about the truth!”

“Shut yer yap!” Chasey lit another cigarette. “I thought you started tailing me around everywhere 'cause you wanted to see how a real P.I. does it. If your so stuck on that journey for truth bologna, you'd better just curl up somewhere with your Daring Do or Prancy Brew. This is the real world kid, get used to it.”

“Am I interrupting something?” said a pale stallion with a Top hat and dark circles under his eyes.

“Sure are, Top hat.” she took a draw. “We were just about to call in housekeeping.”

“Yeah, but it seems your specialty isn't room service.” The colt interjected. “Ya see, what these goofs were delivering is best served cool.”

“Alright kid, that was a good one.” said Chasey. “Now shut up.”

“Uhm, it's Mort, and listen. I think we have a mutual friend, and a chance at mutual profit.”

“I'm listening.”

“No we're not!” cried the colt.

“Just me then, boss.”

“But!”

“Skedaddle!”

The colt turned away as Chasey and the newcomer stepped into the hallway. He grumbled and kicked over a piece of vase, revealing a notepad.

“I got what I needed, pal. I'm just waiting to leave.” said Chasey.

“You have to understand my position-” started Mort.

“And what position might that be?” Chasey ran a hoof across Mort's chest, colour rising to his cheeks.

“Well, uh hrmn.”

The colt saw Chasey was batting her eyelashes at this poor mook. His mentor had the ''right stuff'' as she called it, to get what she wanted out of mares and stallions alike.

“Chasey, you dropped-”

“What did I tell you kid.”

“It's probably important!”

“Probably doesn't cut it.” she pointed a hoof back into the suite, the little Pegasus reluctantly obliged. “Hey kid, thanks for having my back in there. I know I give you a hard time, but your a smart cookie.”

The young buck smiled and closed the door behind him. He decided to flip through the notebook himself, it wasn't long until his smile faded.

“Is that true?” asked Mort.

“Yeah, too smart; and a goody two shoes. He's a liability, I don't care what our ''friend'' thinks.”

“The clients always right-”

“Maybe when they're the only ones at risk! I'm not fixing a sandwich here, you are.”

“Well, that would be a fine show of good faith, for my other benefactors.”

“Exactly, almost everypony wins.” Chasey dropped her cigarette and stamped it out.

“Well, he seems healthy and we NEED a replacement, fast. You have a deal, Miss Chasey.”

“Good, let me go knock him over the head for you.”

“You're doing it yourself!?” Mort asked, more intrigued than anything.

“Like I said, he's smart. Just chock it up to my line of business, like with every other crime I commit.”

“That's what I always do.” Mort cackled.

Chasey disappeared into the room, never to be seen again. After about ten minutes, to Mort's surprise,  a young silver Pegasus emerged from the room; eyes puffy as he had been crying. He wore a black leather Pork-Pie hat that matched smartly with his leather jacket, and dexterously rolled a gold-plated Hippo over his wing.

“I think you'll find a whole lot more meat in there than you originally bargained for, which is why you're gonna pay me double what you offered Chasey.” said the young Private Eye. “I won't be partaking of the main course, but I'm expecting an invitation to the after party. Savvy?

“And if I refuse?” asked Mort.

The short Pegasus deftly placed the .22 barrel against Mort's knee, at an angle, and pulled the trigger. The small round tore through Mort's flesh like it did his sleeves, but ricocheted off the bone. As he began to fall over, the young buck propped a cane under Mort's shoulder.

“HMMN!” tears welled up in Mort's eyes. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I learned from the pretty darn good.”

“What name shall I put your table under?”

“Cool Jets.”