Earwig; Ace Detective.by 7-4ChaptersIntro!A chapter which is a backwards EThis chapter is actually an upside down chair.A chapter that is divisible by one and five.A chapter that is almost equal to the third root of the amount of days in waiting for the chapter to be posted.Chapter that is not the third and not the first, but is less than the fourth.A chapter that is considered to be a lucky number by a large portion of the populace, but assuredly will not end well for the titular character, whether or not he truly shows his hardboiledness or ace detectiveness, or his general earwiggery.Intro! Be Earwig, ace detective. -Mothballs Sitting in your office, you ponder exactly your existential position in the state of things. Who are you? You are Earwig, ace detective. What is your purpose? Well… If someone had come up to you a few years ago, you’d’ve said the same thing that any other self-respecting leech from your hive would’ve said; spying on ponies and stealing their hard earned love. Nowadays, you spy on ponies and steal their hard earned love from them, and get paid for your troubles. Not much of a step up, but what can you expect when your daily living consists of looking in on stallions to see if they are cheating on their mares? That’s a bit dramatic, really; you’re more into looking into things and prying up the sofa cushions looking for love style of detective work. That is, you’re a relationship detective. Earwig investigation services. What are you? A changeling, obviously. Or not so obviously you’d say - after that huge kerfuffle that failure of a leader made at the big wedding shindig, it seems that folks are a lot more wary of any strangers with bright blue eyes. As it was, a unicorn was what most would see, with wrapped legs, just in case something went sideways- a good backup plan was always better than relying on sheer moxie alone. Also, a fedora. You always have a fedora on your head, for the extra mile of protection. A red fedora. Some might think it is tacky, but really, you don’t care. They don’t have hats, so what do they know? Why are you? Woah woah woah. Let’s not get into metaphysical discussion! You are you! Why do you need to ask anything about that? When are you? Erm… 3 years or so after that wedding went sour. Mid afternoon, but close enough to being night that the sun is about to set. Cocktail time, in most places, but for those of us who are dirt poor, and by us, we definitely mean you, you can’t afford any cocktail more expensive than bathtub vodka. How are you? Delicious with a side of bacon. Or so you’ve been told. Still not sure if she was hitting on you or what. Dragons are an odd bunch. You’re also an odd brunch. Which are you? You don’t really know how to respond. You’re pretty sure there’s only one choice for who you are, and you don’t exactly know how that could change (Not in any way you’d be willing to admit to, that is.) Where are you? Oh! A good question at last! You’re sitting at your desk in your office. There’s perfect mood lighting, very noire. That cheap little lamp you picked up from that pegasus throws just the right amount of light to make you seem to be far cooler than you actually are. Let’s face it though, you look a little lame. The bandages are a little dirty right now, and it has been a long day; you’re at the point a little hard earned nectar seems to be looming on the horizon. You have carpeted your office as well, and for once, thanks to a judicious use of smooth vacuuming, it no longer looks like it was dragged out of an alley way. Which it was. It’s a brown color which you imagine to be chocolate, but is really just a dark tan color. You have some pretty good wallpaper! It’s a light red color, which is not pink, and somehow complements the previous shades. It’s more of a salmon color. Mmm. Salmon. You’ll have to remember to wander down to meet that hawk in the morning and pick some up for dinner; ponies don’t even bat an eye if you say it’s for a client. What are you doing? Does it even need to be said? You’re in your office, waiting for the end of the day. You’re kinda torn between seeing if you can catch a nap before you clock out, and actually waiting for the day to be over. The wide brim of your hat makes the former seem more and more likely. Why are you doing that? … Pushy. Because you’re tired? Do we really have to ask questions about everything? ...Yes? Well, that’s how this going to go then. Maybe that shut-eye looks even better now. Don’t be like that! Well… Be Spike You have no idea who that is. You attempt to transform into this mysterious Spike, but all you get is another reason that you should allow yourself to catch a few zzz. Regardless, you decide to keep being yourself, eying the coat you have by the door like the good friend it is; Outside the sun is starting to set, the slanting shafts catching the dust in the air like some sort of gritty movie film, most ponies will be well on their way home by now, but you usually stay a little later for the stragglers. The question remains, stay here a while longer, or try and wait it out ‘til the end of the evening? You can almost picture a client squeezing her way past the door. She’d be a dangerous dame, tongue just like a blade in a knife fight, flashing and quick, with a face that’d make a changeling queen keel over. A right femme fatale. That is to say, just the kind of person who’d drive a stallion away from them, then count on you to reel them back in. In other words, just your type; easy cash, just a simple sleuthing job to see exactly how far astray the poor fella she had hooked had gotten. You adjust the brim of your hat to take on a more rakish tilt. In this metaphorical scenario, it just seems right. You steel your eyes at the door, preparing yourself for just about anything. Still though, that nap seems really welcoming, and the day has been rather tedious… What will you do next? Author's Note Comment below to drive what happens next! A chapter which is a backwards E Chewed Pencil: Roll your die to see if you have enough points in your 'Hard Boiled' stat to look as badass as possible. You desperately try and look as bad as as physically possible! You manage to fumble. Good for you. While you’re fumbling for your expression, you notice a small piece of paper swirl in the turbulence behind the she demon. Whatever. Can’t possibly actually be important. soraxroxas123 Check Hard Boiled leader board There’s no need to check that, silly! You already know you are clearly below a baby chicken in terms of sheer hard broiled-ness. Seriously. A baby chicken looks cooler than you right now. Sweat is pouring under your hat as the metaphorical she trouble cat feline metaphor….whatever, stares at you with eyes a glinting. Cheep cheep, mother- Oh no, her mouth is moving. This should mean something to you, but you fluffed up your hard broiled roll to the point of incredulity. OH NO, SHE’S TALKING. QUICK, PANIC! the host: Proceed to get up, completely ignoring the mare, walk out of the room, walk down the street, into the gunshop, buy a mint 357 magnum, walk back up the street, back to your room, sit down in your chair, and casualy shoot the dame in the chest. That’s a great idea! Get the hive out of dodge away from the crazy feline of fury and skip town while she’s occupied processing your excuse. Roll the excuse generator! You calmly explain to the cat (and by calmly, you’re sweating bullets) that you need to go to the gun store because you left your cat in the bath tub. She gives you a look like a train gives a damsel in distress tied to the tracks. The train isn’t going to stop just because of a little blood shed, that’s for sure. That, and saying you left your cat in the bathtub is a really lame excuse. Like, really. Nobody ever leaves their cat in the bath tub. Now, if you had said you left in the washing machine, maybe… Nah. Either way, you messed up. Or, yuh know, ask her what she wants. But a good detective still needs a gun, god damnit! You'll be sure to keep that in mind. Guns are cool. The mysterious incarnation of trouble is still glaring at you, by the way. She has snatched the piece of paper you ignored earlier and is motioning for you to grab it. Apolline_Allura: You read a mysterious mail slipped into your office. It's from a gryphon, as the highly legible type can address. It's asking you for assistance in what can only be described as a "cheese-related" murder. EGADS! A cheese related murder? That’s… That’s secret changeling code! This can only mean one thing. You turn away from the gryphoness. She’s a gryphoness, and as such, does not take kindly to being ignored, but you ignore her complaints about being ignored anyway. That is what a hardboiled detective does, after all. This is secret changeling code! A cheese related murder means that you’ve been discovered! That means that some pony has figured out your secret identity… but where does the gryphon fit into this malarky? How would she know secret changeling code?! Thunderquill: Get The Details upon both her, and the case she wants. You need everything if you´re going to agree. Consider the Pros and Cons of her job. Maybe have a nibbling concern if she has seen through you. Once every detail have been gained, Get to work. A case aint going to solve itself, and its about time to be productive. Keairan: Politely ask what she needs. If it's too onerous, decline the case if your wallet can handle it. Great ideas! Maybe if you had done that first instead of panicking over flubbing up your rolls in a fantastic way, you wouldn’t be getting a glare from the gryphon. You decide to ask her what she wants from you. WHAT DOES SHE REPLY WITH?! This chapter is actually an upside down chair. House932: She wonders why you haven't responded to her letter from a week ago regarding a cheese-related murder. You raise your eyebrow at her as she relates that she’d sent you a letter about this matter almost a week past; seeing that you didn’t do anything about it, somepony’s been going through your mail as well, that’s why she’s here to pass the not on to you. Seems really silly that she’d bring the note with her to verbally deliver the message, rather suspicious really… You wonder what her angle is. Mothballs: Inspect the gryphoness before making any further choices; you need to see if she has any tells to what she knows… You scurry around her, ignoring her heated complaints and threats of assault. White feathers on the face… Check. Purple circles around the yellow eyes that dance over your form like a shifting candle light. Check. Long whip like tail with a tuft on the end like a slab of cotton candy? Check. Long talons that are sinking into your carpet deeper and deeper as you inspect her possibly a bit too closely? Check. Beak, ready to plunge into someone like a skydiver in some sort of carnivore’s fantasy? Check. Well, no glowing blue eyes, no holes, no cheese legs. Cheese. This all goes back to cheese, huh? What a racist way to talk to someone, yet easily adapted to code. Either this gryphon… This… Oh, hey, you recognize her as a local bully. This is Gilda. She stole your lunch money two weeks ago. Your ham and CHEESE sandwich. Could there be a connection? You try and use all of your sleuthing skills to figure out this additional riddle. Hmmm... Keairan: She puts up a side case: If tin whistles are made out of tin, what are fog horns made out of? Oh...That’s a tough one. Fog, maybe? Nono, that can’t be the right answer. She’s giving you another angry look. Oh, you’re missing something obvious here. Chewed Pencil: She uses more secret changeling code to warn you of the pony assassins right flying towards your window.... because she is actually.... A CHANGELING! No-no, that’s not right, You’re pretty sure she’s Gilda. Even tastes like Gilda, though she’s definitely giving you weird looks now; not that she wasn’t giving you much worse looks a minute ago. Can’t a bug taste someone’s emotions without being stared at, geeze. Just to be certain, you lick Gilda. She gives you an even weirder look and shivers visibly. Yup. That’s a gryphon. You’re pretty sure that the fog horn had something to do with fire though… That said, you bob a bit from side to side before asking her what else she can tell you. You can’t believe you didn’t think of that first! You’re starting to think you might be the worst ace detective. She calmly explains- well, calmly is relative for her, you suspect- that it looks like Canterlot is looking into you for unsavory business practices. At your unknowing look, she rolls her eyes and explains that that means that you are indeed being investigated for being a bug. Frankly, to her, it doesn’t matter all that you might end up being smooshed by the long leg of the law, but a mutual… acquaintance seems to think you need saving. You figure that’s mighty nice of them, and wonder who they might be. She tells you to mind your own business in a very polite and straightforward manner and you take her order into consideration. By that you mean you cower because she might hit you. You then ask her why they sent her of all people. She gives you the same look that a large cat does a particularly juicy squirrel. It occurs to you that maybe you should just shut up. After grinding her beak in a somewhat disquieting fashion, she growls out that they sent her because they need to stay hidden from involvement, but they seem to know what’s going on. Also, she may have owed one of them… She narrows her eyes at you and then rolls them with equal impact. You’re the detective, why don’t you try to figure this out?! All this hot discussion is making you feel light headed, and your vision seems a little foggy. You feel a bit out of your depth; you’re a love detective, this is more than you’re usually ready to do. Dealing with this hot headed lass has certainly made you sweat, and you feel as though your blood is boiling, just from what she’s told you. You swear you can smell the smoke of the fire she’s lit in your mind. Wait… Is something burning? Gilda’s eyes widen and she rushes out of the burning building of your life. That’s totally a metaphor. Or not. A chapter that is divisible by one and five. ThunderQuill: Alright, keep calm. Quickly, asscertain how big the fire is and where its comming from. Once that is done, save as much of your case files as you Can. You need to make sure that The RIGHT things are burning. It would be wonderful if a Few "compromising" documents were to perish in the fire, wouldnt you agree? Once that is done (Make sure to get out alive, For Celestia´s sake), Call the fire department. Hopefully they will be able to save your office. If not you´ll need a new place to say. Did you say you had Friends? How about Crashing at their places? Right, right. You need to calm down. Reach deep below the panicking squishy bug center under your impeccable disguise to that inner well of courage you must have! ...It’s there, right? Right…? RIGHT?! Oh no! You don’t have a secret well of buggy courage! ...Actually, now that you think about it, you probably exhausted that when you deserted the buggy legions. Unfortunately for those case files, you decided that the smell of smoke may mean you’re gonna get a bit more hard boiled then you expected, in ways you’re not exactly fond of. But hey, maybe Gilda’ll like you more if you end up as lunch… Enough of those thoughts. What can you do to stop the fire? Um… WATER COOLER! You pick up your water cooler and hurl it at the wall! It… doesn’t even burst. Curses! You knew that buying the deluxe water cooler model would bite you one day! Okay. Better question. Where is the fire? You seriously wonder why you started trying to put it out before you found it. Regardless, you prepare yourself for some vigorous sleuthing. Hm… smoke filling the air… That is indeed a sign of fire. If only you could narrow it down further… Use all of your skills! SUPER SLEUTH ACTIVATE! You concentrate as hard as you can! Your gaze sweeps the interior of your office, your keen compound eyes missing nothing. Nothing… Nothing… Wait, is something burning? You look up. Your hat is on fire. Your hat. Is on. Fire. YOUR HAT IS ON FIRE! You run around in tight little circles flailing about. THE CEILING IS ON FIRE. EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE. YOU ARE ON FIRE. YOU ARE FIRE. YOU ARE FIRE. Fordregha: Fire? Quick! Smother it with your changeling goo!....You know...the kind they make those weird pods out of...not any other kind. YOU DON’T HAVE ANY GOO. WHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE, SOMEONE WHO ISN’T ON FIRE?! Besides. Changeling goo is highly flammable and a part of a balanced breakfast. Chewed Pencil: Do a jig out the building because reasons. Whoever burned the building wouldn't expect a dancing changeling. The sheer confusion would allow for a clean getaway! You do your best OH MY CELESTIA I AM ON FIRE dance out of the building. It consists mostly of flailing and screaming. The building collapses behind you, scattering dust and general burning ness everywhere. You certainly are happy you’re not in it, but you’ve lost your carpet, desk, hat, jacket and most of your dignity. Speaking of dignity, you roll about in the streets like a common mule to get the rest of the flames out on you. At least you remembered to do that. Ewwww. You're covered in alley goop! But seriously OH MY GOD YOU’RE ON FIRE. How about that awkward Author from your "College Years"? WHAT COLLEGE YEARS?! YOU’RE A CHANGELING FOR ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD. Of course you made all that stuff up! You suddenly realize that maybe thinking in all caps isn’t going to help you figure things out. soraxroxas123: RUN FOR IT!!! You get about ten steps into the alleyway before something reaches out and grabs you roughly by the horn! That only smarts a little! Now, what the heck grabbed you and what does it want? Author's Note Better comments please. Sorry for taking so long. Computer failure. A chapter that is almost equal to the third root of the amount of days in waiting for the chapter to be posted. Do something they won't expect! KISS THEM FULL ON THE MOUTH! -Chewed Pencil Thinking quickly, you grab your assailant and blindly kiss them while flailing! Genius! Perfectly genius! The figure lets out a mutter of surprise and immediately stops grabbing you. You stand there awkwardly, lips wrapped around his, and take the opportunity to feed on the vaguely confused love your interactions have garnered! Love up! After a few moments, it occurs to you that you should probably at least know who you're stealing the kiss from! You break the kiss! The figure stops and... A royal guard has grabbed you, stating that you are under investigation. Transform into another royal guard. The flames of your transformation will startle the actual guard so that you can grab his spear and knock him out by beating him over the head with the handle. Stash the unconscious body in the alleyway and continue your business in the guard disguise. - Snapdrakegames "STOP! Cease and desist your thievery of kisses! You are under investigation for-" It's a royal guard! Here! In town! Oh no! This is horrible! Your cover really has been blown! You should've really believed that cat bird when she walked into your life! You knew she was bad news! That feline with the cotton candy tell told you correctly! For a brief moment, you stare incredulously at the guard, and then recoil. Thinking back to the hive, and using your own quick wit, you flare your transformation magics, sending light cascading out of the alleyway! Instead of a changeling, suddenly, you are the guard. The guard stares stupidly at you, and in a moment, you grab his spear and whack him over the head with it. Then you pause for a moment, and relish in how thoroughly hard boiled you are. Dang, that was just smooth! You're like... some sort of smooth... vagabond. Isn't there a hit song about that? You pause and revel in the lyrics of smooth vagabond and strut out of the alleyway. BUT BEFORE YOU DO THAT! Fortunately, you dig around the ashes of your ruined building and find a stash with your backup fedora, small bag of bits, and hidden retractable wrist blade (changelings don't last that long in direct combat and typically rely on numbers, stealth, trickery, and surprise) -Kersey745 Say, that's a great idea! I'm sure they won't mind if you pretend that you had it, you silly changeling you! You dig through the cache you keep hidden under rotting carpet the exact same shade as the one in your beloved office, and try not to cry from the memory. Your poor poor building. Now you're going to have to get a new place that isn't on the intersection of shady and cheap! Grabbing your things, you hide them as part of... royal... guard... saddlebags... I'm sure that'll work out as a lie, and pass by the sign of the intersection of shady and cheap. (It used to the intersection of nightmare and shady, but after luna returned, someone decided that calling the poor part of town nightmare was a bit offensive to the good princess) After a few moments, you give your spare fedora a mournful look. For your current disguise, it would be odd to have a fedora on! Current disguise: Royal Guard. Great at parties, not so great at defending the princesses. Love up! You may spend your love on one situation where you would normally find your story over! Love is gained by stealing it from organisms who probably deserve it more than you do! Current items! Bits: Money Fedora: Your one true love. Wristblade: You can't really remember that many lessons on it, but you won it in a bar somewhere, so you've kept it around. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? Chapter that is not the third and not the first, but is less than the fourth. Chewed Pencil: Sarcastically take a nap right there in front of her and ignore her for a bit while you rest. You really do try and take a nap sarcastically. You have almost mastered all of the levels of snark required for it, and you’re a level 6 napper, but you fumble your roll when it comes to both being sarcastic and napping at the same time. Maybe it is because you don’t actually have a guest at the moment, so your attempts to sarcastically nap in front of your metaphysical non existent client have ruined your immersion in the deep levels of sarcastic napping? You try your hand at just being sarcastic, staring at a mirror that you just noticed was on your desk, you vain thing you. You look.. scruffy. Just like a proper detective. Who actually trusts a detective who doesn’t look like he slept in an alleyway? For the record, you didn’t sleep in an alleyway. Keairan: Go and get a glass of water, drink it down, then see about catnapping. Not a bad suggestion, that one. Soraxroxas123: Sleep. Well, looky there! A bunch of blokes right after your own heart. You stand up and walk towards the water cooler by the door. A few seconds later, you’ve downed a glass of water, and you’re back at your desk, ready to dream of a few shots of magnum sherry served with love and devotion. Hey, a bug can dream, right? Speaking of dreaming… You cock the brim of your hat down over your eyes, cloaking you in darkness. Surely there isn’t a good reason for you to remain awake… the host: Stand fast. A case should present itself. A P-Eye has to have an employer after all. Ugh…. Do you have to stay awake? Come on, clearly nobody is coming in today… There’s an hour left, and the only time someone goes to a private eye at the last moment is when they’re expecting trouble. And you, for one, do not like trouble. Trouble is a cat that sinks its claws into your spine like it does with curtain, dragging you down with the shreds of your dignity. The curtains are your dignity, you guess. You think you lost track of your own metaphor, there. You don’t even like cats that much. You like them more than dogs, though. You hate dogs. the host: Hopefully her case is solid (you refuse to deal in morbid affairs) You agree! You also hate people who turn out to be less than up and up. Especially when it comes to paying you. Money may not buy you love, but it sure does pay the bills. And boy, do you have bills. You have bills for having bills. You have a bill from the post office for giving you the bill about the bill you have for having bills. You have bills for having bills… Okay okay, enough about that. Being a changeling disguised as a unicorn private detective is not half as lucrative as it sounds, and you don’t have enough dough on hand to even make toast. That is, you’ll be toast without some bananas. You give up on your snappy word play. Thunderquill: You will Wait, Tonight is a night of work. Leasure can come tomorrow. Maybe consider how to handle your backup plan in case anypony begins to question your, Talents. Maybe some Friends will be able to help. You dont have any Friends? Thats sad... Maybe you should find some? Hey now, that’s just rude! You have plenty of friends. They even give you advice! Saying you don’t have any friends is just rude! Oh, A knock on the door. Let them In. See what they want. Maybe you can gain some bits for your day off tomorrow. The door opens. It’s the very definition of trouble. You know that cat from earlier? She’s that cat, and she’s taken the cream and snatched the canary. She’s a sinewy figure that reeks of a deal gone wrong. If you still had a shot of magnum on your desk, well, you’d be torn between pouring it out, or shooting yourself. She skulks inside like something out of a bad movie; the monster, of course, seducing the young, polluting the minds of the innocent. She’s the discord of the town, and she’s here to see you. What do you do?! A chapter that is considered to be a lucky number by a large portion of the populace, but assuredly will not end well for the titular character, whether or not he truly shows his hardboiledness or ace detectiveness, or his general earwiggery.Right. So you're walking. Walking is in fact one of those things you can easily do without messing up, which is great, because you're panicking. You're not quite as panicked as you were when you went AWOL back during the marriage that was never meant to be, but to be honest, you weren't expecting that to go well in the first place. It's an old changeling saying, after all: Bugs should not infiltrate the exterminator's house. But seriously, what are you supposed to do here? You're totally stranded! I mean, you could probably go after that catbir- said catbird bursts out of the ashes of the building and snarls at a curious pony looking at the burning building, sending said mare flying backward. The gryphon snarls again, snuffing fires on her body, before taking to the skies. Well, that's out of the question. Move away from where you currently are. Lose all pursuit and or witnesses, and then change into something less conspicuous. Equip fedora after changing. -Keairan Saaay. That's a nice idea, yeah! Find somewhere to hide, become a pony, and then your trusty fedora will raise your general hardboiledness to the point that you can remain calm in the face of this rather obvious murder attempt! That's a great idea! But... You look around, seeing ponies staring at you awkwardly. You look back at the burning building. Oh. Well, you should probably at least act like a royal guard. "Nothing to see here, gentleponies. Just Princess Twilight ascending again." The crowd disperses rather rapidly, with only just a few mutters of "That's the third time this week." You begin to suspect that blaming everything that goes wrong in your life on princess Twilight ascending is not a long term sustainable plan. After a few moments of bare streets, you walk into an alleyway that is not filled with an unconscious guard's pony, and with a flash of green light, you transform into one of your alter egos! ...which is what, exactly?
Intro! Be Earwig, ace detective. -Mothballs Sitting in your office, you ponder exactly your existential position in the state of things. Who are you? You are Earwig, ace detective. What is your purpose? Well… If someone had come up to you a few years ago, you’d’ve said the same thing that any other self-respecting leech from your hive would’ve said; spying on ponies and stealing their hard earned love. Nowadays, you spy on ponies and steal their hard earned love from them, and get paid for your troubles. Not much of a step up, but what can you expect when your daily living consists of looking in on stallions to see if they are cheating on their mares? That’s a bit dramatic, really; you’re more into looking into things and prying up the sofa cushions looking for love style of detective work. That is, you’re a relationship detective. Earwig investigation services. What are you? A changeling, obviously. Or not so obviously you’d say - after that huge kerfuffle that failure of a leader made at the big wedding shindig, it seems that folks are a lot more wary of any strangers with bright blue eyes. As it was, a unicorn was what most would see, with wrapped legs, just in case something went sideways- a good backup plan was always better than relying on sheer moxie alone. Also, a fedora. You always have a fedora on your head, for the extra mile of protection. A red fedora. Some might think it is tacky, but really, you don’t care. They don’t have hats, so what do they know? Why are you? Woah woah woah. Let’s not get into metaphysical discussion! You are you! Why do you need to ask anything about that? When are you? Erm… 3 years or so after that wedding went sour. Mid afternoon, but close enough to being night that the sun is about to set. Cocktail time, in most places, but for those of us who are dirt poor, and by us, we definitely mean you, you can’t afford any cocktail more expensive than bathtub vodka. How are you? Delicious with a side of bacon. Or so you’ve been told. Still not sure if she was hitting on you or what. Dragons are an odd bunch. You’re also an odd brunch. Which are you? You don’t really know how to respond. You’re pretty sure there’s only one choice for who you are, and you don’t exactly know how that could change (Not in any way you’d be willing to admit to, that is.) Where are you? Oh! A good question at last! You’re sitting at your desk in your office. There’s perfect mood lighting, very noire. That cheap little lamp you picked up from that pegasus throws just the right amount of light to make you seem to be far cooler than you actually are. Let’s face it though, you look a little lame. The bandages are a little dirty right now, and it has been a long day; you’re at the point a little hard earned nectar seems to be looming on the horizon. You have carpeted your office as well, and for once, thanks to a judicious use of smooth vacuuming, it no longer looks like it was dragged out of an alley way. Which it was. It’s a brown color which you imagine to be chocolate, but is really just a dark tan color. You have some pretty good wallpaper! It’s a light red color, which is not pink, and somehow complements the previous shades. It’s more of a salmon color. Mmm. Salmon. You’ll have to remember to wander down to meet that hawk in the morning and pick some up for dinner; ponies don’t even bat an eye if you say it’s for a client. What are you doing? Does it even need to be said? You’re in your office, waiting for the end of the day. You’re kinda torn between seeing if you can catch a nap before you clock out, and actually waiting for the day to be over. The wide brim of your hat makes the former seem more and more likely. Why are you doing that? … Pushy. Because you’re tired? Do we really have to ask questions about everything? ...Yes? Well, that’s how this going to go then. Maybe that shut-eye looks even better now. Don’t be like that! Well… Be Spike You have no idea who that is. You attempt to transform into this mysterious Spike, but all you get is another reason that you should allow yourself to catch a few zzz. Regardless, you decide to keep being yourself, eying the coat you have by the door like the good friend it is; Outside the sun is starting to set, the slanting shafts catching the dust in the air like some sort of gritty movie film, most ponies will be well on their way home by now, but you usually stay a little later for the stragglers. The question remains, stay here a while longer, or try and wait it out ‘til the end of the evening? You can almost picture a client squeezing her way past the door. She’d be a dangerous dame, tongue just like a blade in a knife fight, flashing and quick, with a face that’d make a changeling queen keel over. A right femme fatale. That is to say, just the kind of person who’d drive a stallion away from them, then count on you to reel them back in. In other words, just your type; easy cash, just a simple sleuthing job to see exactly how far astray the poor fella she had hooked had gotten. You adjust the brim of your hat to take on a more rakish tilt. In this metaphorical scenario, it just seems right. You steel your eyes at the door, preparing yourself for just about anything. Still though, that nap seems really welcoming, and the day has been rather tedious… What will you do next? Author's Note Comment below to drive what happens next!
A chapter which is a backwards E Chewed Pencil: Roll your die to see if you have enough points in your 'Hard Boiled' stat to look as badass as possible. You desperately try and look as bad as as physically possible! You manage to fumble. Good for you. While you’re fumbling for your expression, you notice a small piece of paper swirl in the turbulence behind the she demon. Whatever. Can’t possibly actually be important. soraxroxas123 Check Hard Boiled leader board There’s no need to check that, silly! You already know you are clearly below a baby chicken in terms of sheer hard broiled-ness. Seriously. A baby chicken looks cooler than you right now. Sweat is pouring under your hat as the metaphorical she trouble cat feline metaphor….whatever, stares at you with eyes a glinting. Cheep cheep, mother- Oh no, her mouth is moving. This should mean something to you, but you fluffed up your hard broiled roll to the point of incredulity. OH NO, SHE’S TALKING. QUICK, PANIC! the host: Proceed to get up, completely ignoring the mare, walk out of the room, walk down the street, into the gunshop, buy a mint 357 magnum, walk back up the street, back to your room, sit down in your chair, and casualy shoot the dame in the chest. That’s a great idea! Get the hive out of dodge away from the crazy feline of fury and skip town while she’s occupied processing your excuse. Roll the excuse generator! You calmly explain to the cat (and by calmly, you’re sweating bullets) that you need to go to the gun store because you left your cat in the bath tub. She gives you a look like a train gives a damsel in distress tied to the tracks. The train isn’t going to stop just because of a little blood shed, that’s for sure. That, and saying you left your cat in the bathtub is a really lame excuse. Like, really. Nobody ever leaves their cat in the bath tub. Now, if you had said you left in the washing machine, maybe… Nah. Either way, you messed up. Or, yuh know, ask her what she wants. But a good detective still needs a gun, god damnit! You'll be sure to keep that in mind. Guns are cool. The mysterious incarnation of trouble is still glaring at you, by the way. She has snatched the piece of paper you ignored earlier and is motioning for you to grab it. Apolline_Allura: You read a mysterious mail slipped into your office. It's from a gryphon, as the highly legible type can address. It's asking you for assistance in what can only be described as a "cheese-related" murder. EGADS! A cheese related murder? That’s… That’s secret changeling code! This can only mean one thing. You turn away from the gryphoness. She’s a gryphoness, and as such, does not take kindly to being ignored, but you ignore her complaints about being ignored anyway. That is what a hardboiled detective does, after all. This is secret changeling code! A cheese related murder means that you’ve been discovered! That means that some pony has figured out your secret identity… but where does the gryphon fit into this malarky? How would she know secret changeling code?! Thunderquill: Get The Details upon both her, and the case she wants. You need everything if you´re going to agree. Consider the Pros and Cons of her job. Maybe have a nibbling concern if she has seen through you. Once every detail have been gained, Get to work. A case aint going to solve itself, and its about time to be productive. Keairan: Politely ask what she needs. If it's too onerous, decline the case if your wallet can handle it. Great ideas! Maybe if you had done that first instead of panicking over flubbing up your rolls in a fantastic way, you wouldn’t be getting a glare from the gryphon. You decide to ask her what she wants from you. WHAT DOES SHE REPLY WITH?!
This chapter is actually an upside down chair. House932: She wonders why you haven't responded to her letter from a week ago regarding a cheese-related murder. You raise your eyebrow at her as she relates that she’d sent you a letter about this matter almost a week past; seeing that you didn’t do anything about it, somepony’s been going through your mail as well, that’s why she’s here to pass the not on to you. Seems really silly that she’d bring the note with her to verbally deliver the message, rather suspicious really… You wonder what her angle is. Mothballs: Inspect the gryphoness before making any further choices; you need to see if she has any tells to what she knows… You scurry around her, ignoring her heated complaints and threats of assault. White feathers on the face… Check. Purple circles around the yellow eyes that dance over your form like a shifting candle light. Check. Long whip like tail with a tuft on the end like a slab of cotton candy? Check. Long talons that are sinking into your carpet deeper and deeper as you inspect her possibly a bit too closely? Check. Beak, ready to plunge into someone like a skydiver in some sort of carnivore’s fantasy? Check. Well, no glowing blue eyes, no holes, no cheese legs. Cheese. This all goes back to cheese, huh? What a racist way to talk to someone, yet easily adapted to code. Either this gryphon… This… Oh, hey, you recognize her as a local bully. This is Gilda. She stole your lunch money two weeks ago. Your ham and CHEESE sandwich. Could there be a connection? You try and use all of your sleuthing skills to figure out this additional riddle. Hmmm... Keairan: She puts up a side case: If tin whistles are made out of tin, what are fog horns made out of? Oh...That’s a tough one. Fog, maybe? Nono, that can’t be the right answer. She’s giving you another angry look. Oh, you’re missing something obvious here. Chewed Pencil: She uses more secret changeling code to warn you of the pony assassins right flying towards your window.... because she is actually.... A CHANGELING! No-no, that’s not right, You’re pretty sure she’s Gilda. Even tastes like Gilda, though she’s definitely giving you weird looks now; not that she wasn’t giving you much worse looks a minute ago. Can’t a bug taste someone’s emotions without being stared at, geeze. Just to be certain, you lick Gilda. She gives you an even weirder look and shivers visibly. Yup. That’s a gryphon. You’re pretty sure that the fog horn had something to do with fire though… That said, you bob a bit from side to side before asking her what else she can tell you. You can’t believe you didn’t think of that first! You’re starting to think you might be the worst ace detective. She calmly explains- well, calmly is relative for her, you suspect- that it looks like Canterlot is looking into you for unsavory business practices. At your unknowing look, she rolls her eyes and explains that that means that you are indeed being investigated for being a bug. Frankly, to her, it doesn’t matter all that you might end up being smooshed by the long leg of the law, but a mutual… acquaintance seems to think you need saving. You figure that’s mighty nice of them, and wonder who they might be. She tells you to mind your own business in a very polite and straightforward manner and you take her order into consideration. By that you mean you cower because she might hit you. You then ask her why they sent her of all people. She gives you the same look that a large cat does a particularly juicy squirrel. It occurs to you that maybe you should just shut up. After grinding her beak in a somewhat disquieting fashion, she growls out that they sent her because they need to stay hidden from involvement, but they seem to know what’s going on. Also, she may have owed one of them… She narrows her eyes at you and then rolls them with equal impact. You’re the detective, why don’t you try to figure this out?! All this hot discussion is making you feel light headed, and your vision seems a little foggy. You feel a bit out of your depth; you’re a love detective, this is more than you’re usually ready to do. Dealing with this hot headed lass has certainly made you sweat, and you feel as though your blood is boiling, just from what she’s told you. You swear you can smell the smoke of the fire she’s lit in your mind. Wait… Is something burning? Gilda’s eyes widen and she rushes out of the burning building of your life. That’s totally a metaphor. Or not.
A chapter that is divisible by one and five. ThunderQuill: Alright, keep calm. Quickly, asscertain how big the fire is and where its comming from. Once that is done, save as much of your case files as you Can. You need to make sure that The RIGHT things are burning. It would be wonderful if a Few "compromising" documents were to perish in the fire, wouldnt you agree? Once that is done (Make sure to get out alive, For Celestia´s sake), Call the fire department. Hopefully they will be able to save your office. If not you´ll need a new place to say. Did you say you had Friends? How about Crashing at their places? Right, right. You need to calm down. Reach deep below the panicking squishy bug center under your impeccable disguise to that inner well of courage you must have! ...It’s there, right? Right…? RIGHT?! Oh no! You don’t have a secret well of buggy courage! ...Actually, now that you think about it, you probably exhausted that when you deserted the buggy legions. Unfortunately for those case files, you decided that the smell of smoke may mean you’re gonna get a bit more hard boiled then you expected, in ways you’re not exactly fond of. But hey, maybe Gilda’ll like you more if you end up as lunch… Enough of those thoughts. What can you do to stop the fire? Um… WATER COOLER! You pick up your water cooler and hurl it at the wall! It… doesn’t even burst. Curses! You knew that buying the deluxe water cooler model would bite you one day! Okay. Better question. Where is the fire? You seriously wonder why you started trying to put it out before you found it. Regardless, you prepare yourself for some vigorous sleuthing. Hm… smoke filling the air… That is indeed a sign of fire. If only you could narrow it down further… Use all of your skills! SUPER SLEUTH ACTIVATE! You concentrate as hard as you can! Your gaze sweeps the interior of your office, your keen compound eyes missing nothing. Nothing… Nothing… Wait, is something burning? You look up. Your hat is on fire. Your hat. Is on. Fire. YOUR HAT IS ON FIRE! You run around in tight little circles flailing about. THE CEILING IS ON FIRE. EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE. YOU ARE ON FIRE. YOU ARE FIRE. YOU ARE FIRE. Fordregha: Fire? Quick! Smother it with your changeling goo!....You know...the kind they make those weird pods out of...not any other kind. YOU DON’T HAVE ANY GOO. WHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE, SOMEONE WHO ISN’T ON FIRE?! Besides. Changeling goo is highly flammable and a part of a balanced breakfast. Chewed Pencil: Do a jig out the building because reasons. Whoever burned the building wouldn't expect a dancing changeling. The sheer confusion would allow for a clean getaway! You do your best OH MY CELESTIA I AM ON FIRE dance out of the building. It consists mostly of flailing and screaming. The building collapses behind you, scattering dust and general burning ness everywhere. You certainly are happy you’re not in it, but you’ve lost your carpet, desk, hat, jacket and most of your dignity. Speaking of dignity, you roll about in the streets like a common mule to get the rest of the flames out on you. At least you remembered to do that. Ewwww. You're covered in alley goop! But seriously OH MY GOD YOU’RE ON FIRE. How about that awkward Author from your "College Years"? WHAT COLLEGE YEARS?! YOU’RE A CHANGELING FOR ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD. Of course you made all that stuff up! You suddenly realize that maybe thinking in all caps isn’t going to help you figure things out. soraxroxas123: RUN FOR IT!!! You get about ten steps into the alleyway before something reaches out and grabs you roughly by the horn! That only smarts a little! Now, what the heck grabbed you and what does it want? Author's Note Better comments please. Sorry for taking so long. Computer failure.
A chapter that is almost equal to the third root of the amount of days in waiting for the chapter to be posted. Do something they won't expect! KISS THEM FULL ON THE MOUTH! -Chewed Pencil Thinking quickly, you grab your assailant and blindly kiss them while flailing! Genius! Perfectly genius! The figure lets out a mutter of surprise and immediately stops grabbing you. You stand there awkwardly, lips wrapped around his, and take the opportunity to feed on the vaguely confused love your interactions have garnered! Love up! After a few moments, it occurs to you that you should probably at least know who you're stealing the kiss from! You break the kiss! The figure stops and... A royal guard has grabbed you, stating that you are under investigation. Transform into another royal guard. The flames of your transformation will startle the actual guard so that you can grab his spear and knock him out by beating him over the head with the handle. Stash the unconscious body in the alleyway and continue your business in the guard disguise. - Snapdrakegames "STOP! Cease and desist your thievery of kisses! You are under investigation for-" It's a royal guard! Here! In town! Oh no! This is horrible! Your cover really has been blown! You should've really believed that cat bird when she walked into your life! You knew she was bad news! That feline with the cotton candy tell told you correctly! For a brief moment, you stare incredulously at the guard, and then recoil. Thinking back to the hive, and using your own quick wit, you flare your transformation magics, sending light cascading out of the alleyway! Instead of a changeling, suddenly, you are the guard. The guard stares stupidly at you, and in a moment, you grab his spear and whack him over the head with it. Then you pause for a moment, and relish in how thoroughly hard boiled you are. Dang, that was just smooth! You're like... some sort of smooth... vagabond. Isn't there a hit song about that? You pause and revel in the lyrics of smooth vagabond and strut out of the alleyway. BUT BEFORE YOU DO THAT! Fortunately, you dig around the ashes of your ruined building and find a stash with your backup fedora, small bag of bits, and hidden retractable wrist blade (changelings don't last that long in direct combat and typically rely on numbers, stealth, trickery, and surprise) -Kersey745 Say, that's a great idea! I'm sure they won't mind if you pretend that you had it, you silly changeling you! You dig through the cache you keep hidden under rotting carpet the exact same shade as the one in your beloved office, and try not to cry from the memory. Your poor poor building. Now you're going to have to get a new place that isn't on the intersection of shady and cheap! Grabbing your things, you hide them as part of... royal... guard... saddlebags... I'm sure that'll work out as a lie, and pass by the sign of the intersection of shady and cheap. (It used to the intersection of nightmare and shady, but after luna returned, someone decided that calling the poor part of town nightmare was a bit offensive to the good princess) After a few moments, you give your spare fedora a mournful look. For your current disguise, it would be odd to have a fedora on! Current disguise: Royal Guard. Great at parties, not so great at defending the princesses. Love up! You may spend your love on one situation where you would normally find your story over! Love is gained by stealing it from organisms who probably deserve it more than you do! Current items! Bits: Money Fedora: Your one true love. Wristblade: You can't really remember that many lessons on it, but you won it in a bar somewhere, so you've kept it around. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
Chapter that is not the third and not the first, but is less than the fourth. Chewed Pencil: Sarcastically take a nap right there in front of her and ignore her for a bit while you rest. You really do try and take a nap sarcastically. You have almost mastered all of the levels of snark required for it, and you’re a level 6 napper, but you fumble your roll when it comes to both being sarcastic and napping at the same time. Maybe it is because you don’t actually have a guest at the moment, so your attempts to sarcastically nap in front of your metaphysical non existent client have ruined your immersion in the deep levels of sarcastic napping? You try your hand at just being sarcastic, staring at a mirror that you just noticed was on your desk, you vain thing you. You look.. scruffy. Just like a proper detective. Who actually trusts a detective who doesn’t look like he slept in an alleyway? For the record, you didn’t sleep in an alleyway. Keairan: Go and get a glass of water, drink it down, then see about catnapping. Not a bad suggestion, that one. Soraxroxas123: Sleep. Well, looky there! A bunch of blokes right after your own heart. You stand up and walk towards the water cooler by the door. A few seconds later, you’ve downed a glass of water, and you’re back at your desk, ready to dream of a few shots of magnum sherry served with love and devotion. Hey, a bug can dream, right? Speaking of dreaming… You cock the brim of your hat down over your eyes, cloaking you in darkness. Surely there isn’t a good reason for you to remain awake… the host: Stand fast. A case should present itself. A P-Eye has to have an employer after all. Ugh…. Do you have to stay awake? Come on, clearly nobody is coming in today… There’s an hour left, and the only time someone goes to a private eye at the last moment is when they’re expecting trouble. And you, for one, do not like trouble. Trouble is a cat that sinks its claws into your spine like it does with curtain, dragging you down with the shreds of your dignity. The curtains are your dignity, you guess. You think you lost track of your own metaphor, there. You don’t even like cats that much. You like them more than dogs, though. You hate dogs. the host: Hopefully her case is solid (you refuse to deal in morbid affairs) You agree! You also hate people who turn out to be less than up and up. Especially when it comes to paying you. Money may not buy you love, but it sure does pay the bills. And boy, do you have bills. You have bills for having bills. You have a bill from the post office for giving you the bill about the bill you have for having bills. You have bills for having bills… Okay okay, enough about that. Being a changeling disguised as a unicorn private detective is not half as lucrative as it sounds, and you don’t have enough dough on hand to even make toast. That is, you’ll be toast without some bananas. You give up on your snappy word play. Thunderquill: You will Wait, Tonight is a night of work. Leasure can come tomorrow. Maybe consider how to handle your backup plan in case anypony begins to question your, Talents. Maybe some Friends will be able to help. You dont have any Friends? Thats sad... Maybe you should find some? Hey now, that’s just rude! You have plenty of friends. They even give you advice! Saying you don’t have any friends is just rude! Oh, A knock on the door. Let them In. See what they want. Maybe you can gain some bits for your day off tomorrow. The door opens. It’s the very definition of trouble. You know that cat from earlier? She’s that cat, and she’s taken the cream and snatched the canary. She’s a sinewy figure that reeks of a deal gone wrong. If you still had a shot of magnum on your desk, well, you’d be torn between pouring it out, or shooting yourself. She skulks inside like something out of a bad movie; the monster, of course, seducing the young, polluting the minds of the innocent. She’s the discord of the town, and she’s here to see you. What do you do?!
A chapter that is considered to be a lucky number by a large portion of the populace, but assuredly will not end well for the titular character, whether or not he truly shows his hardboiledness or ace detectiveness, or his general earwiggery.Right. So you're walking. Walking is in fact one of those things you can easily do without messing up, which is great, because you're panicking. You're not quite as panicked as you were when you went AWOL back during the marriage that was never meant to be, but to be honest, you weren't expecting that to go well in the first place. It's an old changeling saying, after all: Bugs should not infiltrate the exterminator's house. But seriously, what are you supposed to do here? You're totally stranded! I mean, you could probably go after that catbir- said catbird bursts out of the ashes of the building and snarls at a curious pony looking at the burning building, sending said mare flying backward. The gryphon snarls again, snuffing fires on her body, before taking to the skies. Well, that's out of the question. Move away from where you currently are. Lose all pursuit and or witnesses, and then change into something less conspicuous. Equip fedora after changing. -Keairan Saaay. That's a nice idea, yeah! Find somewhere to hide, become a pony, and then your trusty fedora will raise your general hardboiledness to the point that you can remain calm in the face of this rather obvious murder attempt! That's a great idea! But... You look around, seeing ponies staring at you awkwardly. You look back at the burning building. Oh. Well, you should probably at least act like a royal guard. "Nothing to see here, gentleponies. Just Princess Twilight ascending again." The crowd disperses rather rapidly, with only just a few mutters of "That's the third time this week." You begin to suspect that blaming everything that goes wrong in your life on princess Twilight ascending is not a long term sustainable plan. After a few moments of bare streets, you walk into an alleyway that is not filled with an unconscious guard's pony, and with a flash of green light, you transform into one of your alter egos! ...which is what, exactly?
