"GRRRR. THIS EMPIRE...," Flash growled out, "JUST SHOWED YOU...THAT IT'S (wait, let me breathe for a bit...OK, go) FULL OF..." Another pause. "(holy ponyapples this is hard) ...PONIES! (huff) (huff)...(huff) READY TO BELIEVE... ... ... IN FRIENDSHIP!!"
Sombra smirked, still dangling off the precipice, "Until their spirits break comple--hey, wait, what? Dangling off a precipice? Where? A building? A cliff? The Crystal Empire's got a mountain range, right?"
Flash Sentry looked uncomfortable as he shrugged, a hard feat for a pegasus considering he was dangling the infamous King Sombra off a nondescript noncrystal building 30 stories in the air between clasped hooves, "Oh yeah, well, guess that answers that."
"Welp, yep, guess it does. But wait, why are we even here?"
"Wait, was that you?" Flash raised a nonexistent sexy eyebrow, "oh no, wait, nevermind, that answers tha--HEY NO IT DOESN'T. The narrative only said 'Flash raised an eyebrow'. Nothing about 'Sombra said this' or 'Flash Sentry said that'. Come on."
Flash Sentry needs to shut the hell up. Or wait, was that Sombra?
"You don't even know."
Shut up. I'm writing this story. No, actually, not anymore. Scene shift, you're in your private detective office, sitting at your desk that is actually a naked Luna.
"She was always naked."
She's not wearing her royal jewelry.
"That still doesn't make her--"
Just pretend she wore a frock to go with all that black bling.
"Fine. Where were we before?" Flash asked.
You were nowhere before. That previous stint was an error in the makings of fanned fiction. Sombra is probably back at the Crystal Empire with the Crystal Ponies, doing horrible things for the laugh out louds.
"Probably?" Flash Sentry cocked his tan, glistening gorgeous, blue haired, luxurious hea-- "hey, stop that. It's distracting."
Fine. And yeah, probably. I don't know, definitely? I'm the one writing this story, you should be happy with a naked pony princess as your desk.
"Yeah, see, how does that even work?" Luna asked. OH WAIT, NO SHE CAN'T, BECAUSE SHE HAS A BALL GAG IN HER MOUTH, AND SHE'S KNEELING ON THE FLOOR, WITH A BUNCH OF PAPERS AND SHIT ON HER SLEEK BLACK BACK.
"Mmmmpppphhhhmhpmhmmmmph," Luna of the Silver Moon couldn't talk. Silly Luna.
"You're making ponyapples up as you go along," Flash pointed an accusing brassed hoof at nothing in particular.
Hush. You're a private detective set up along Manehattan's 5th that handles all sorts of bizarre cases. You're known as a fast firing, quick witted fillies' stallion douchecanoe with a heart of brass crystals. Which is better than gold, so you must be super nice underneath your wooden exterior that has been built up over a lifetime of undocumented deeds as a battle-hardened pegasus warrior. Which is why you were kicked out of the MPD Squad.
"For being a fillies' stallion?" Flash Sentry asked.
No, for being a douchecanoe. You, uh, didn't get along with the commissioner. Also you may have been under allegations that you were boning his wife. That tends to upset others.
"Wait, no, I don't believe I'm any of those things," Flash closed his eyes and held his head in his hooves as he tried to think, "I'm a member of the Royal Guard assigned to protect the Crystal Empire."
Oh. Yeah, poop. OK, you were a guard at the Crystal Empire. Then you broke your hip banging into a hefty alicorn princess, putting you out of commission for good. Now you're a private eye, still trying to be a good guy pony before arthritis and wobbly knees get to you.
"Couldn't I have just gotten a desk job that keeps me at my desk and doesn't thrust me into extremely dangerous situations where fleeing is often the best course of action?"
Cowards run away. And your glorious pegasus wings are your aid to whopping assured victory. And quick stops at the coffeehouse.
"But I'm--"
OH HEY LOOK THERE'S A CLIENT AT THE DOOR. There is a knock.
"Come in," Flash Sentry called out in a ringing, resonate, echoing voice, "you realize those are all synonyms, or close enough, ri--"
A UNICORN MARE WALKS THROUGH THE DOOR. Her scarlet dreadlocked mane shines with the color of autumn leaves and innumerable sunsets, her face the stuff stars and planets are made of.
"Stars and planets are made of pony fur?" Flash Sentry asked, because Flash Sentry is a bag of ponydicks who has no appreciation for complimenting a perfectly colored mare.
Her stormy blue eyes pierce the veil of your wretched recluse's soul, yet in them there is a hint of compassion and unabashed pity at your woeful, pathetic self that somehow helps her see past all your neckbeard corruptions so that she may find the true you. She wore a dress of stainless white, perhaps symbolic of both her unwillingness to waver in her ambitions and her purity in the face of her inner demons. Or maybe it was that she was a beacon in an endless sea of her own inner turmoil? Her delicate peach hooves smoothed over her frock-dress, and she looked mildly flustered.
"Maybe that's because the narration has been basically ogling me," she snapped. You know what, fine, be that way.
She was fancily dressed the way Manehattan mares do on afternoon walks in the park during springtime. Perhaps too fancy, since she was only coming to visit a private detective.
"Before you were singing my praises, now you're demeaning me?" Flash, no, LITTLE WHINY BITCH, said in that stupid prissy voice of his.
"My name is C.Q.. I'm a secret agent in The Three Obscurest Ponies in all of Equestria's Secret Service. We need your help and is that really Princess Luna you're using as your desk?" C.Q. raised an eyebrow at the deliciously naked kneeling Luna.
Luna felt her cheeks, both rear and front, heat up at her words, and to her shame felt her loins grow wet with longing for the utterly gorgeous redhead. It should be a crime for anypony to have red and pink in their manes.
"OK, sick, liquid's dripping onto my hooves," Flash complained, because he's a stuck up pony jerk who cannot handle this much sexual thrill in the air. It's like, there's sex everywhere, just horseapple-fucking everywhere, but you're the ONE prude who always sits in the corner of the club while everypony is grinding up onto everypony else out on the dance floor, and you keep complaining about the strobe lights, and how your drink isn't cold, even though you are drinking a drink that is clearly not meant to be a cold beverage, but you don't know that, so you order some ice, and the bartender gives you a look and you just know you did something wrong but you're a dick who can't admit it so you just take your now TOTALLY ruined glass back to your shitty little corner and cry into it. Because you suck.
"The detective just blew his brains out," Raggedy Ann aka C.Q. deadpanned.
...
Fuck.
THE END
Author's Note
Do not bother pointing out errors, run-ons and inconsistencies in the comments section because they are not needed to make this piece any less horseapple-y.
I was browsing the fimfiction place some, for fics involving the bronydom's currently most loverly-hated pony in all of their ponyapple-eating fandom: Flash Sentry. And then I decided to write one meself. So I spoofed the previous work of a magnificent bastard from an old fandom who is probably dead to now. You are welcome.
The inflammably gorgeous redhead can be inspected here
