The Patchwork

Inspired by Criminal Minds!

-mbulsht

CHAPTER TWO

It has become increasingly clear to me over the past day that I haven't really thought this through very well. How exactly does one write about crime investigation in a diary? To the detail that I would require? And furthermore, how does one in my position write in secret? I'm not stupid enough to think that the CIA isn't watching me. They might believe I don't notice, but I do. When I was sworn in to the Agency I was assigned a partner, a baby dragon who would accompany me on all my missions and aid me in any way necessary. I'll describe him in detail later, but suffice to say that while he may be there to help me, I know he's been given another job. I know he watches my every move. I know he reports to my boss about my behavior every day. How, then, am I supposed to find time to write this?

I've concluded two very basic things: firstly, this diary shall be written on a daily basis at night. Nighttime is the only time I can be away from my partner, as he sleeps early and rises early. Perhaps sometimes I may steal away to a bathroom or other private location as well. And secondly, this shall be more than a journal. I'm not going to just write in here, I'm going to slip all the evidence in here that I can; crime scene photos, official documents, anything that can serve as hard proof of what I'm doing. That means this diary might get a little messy at times, but I need to be nothing less than absolutely thorough.

As I sit here in the dark of a barn located in Ponyville, I'm listening to the snores coming from the loft above me where my partner sleeps. I have to be extremely careful about how I do this. Listening very closely to ensure my partner's snores don't waver and he doesn't wake, and keeping the glow of my horn down to a minimum, I write. Curse my horn! It's times like these that I wish I were blessed with appendages like my young dragon companion with which to grip objects and write. Instead I have to make do with my magic to manipulate my quill, and pray that the light from my horn doesn't wake him. I don't know how long I have; there's no way of telling time where I am, and at some point I have to get to sleep soon so I can be well rested for tomorrow, when my investigation truly begins. So I will have to write quickly and carefully.

Let me tell you about today.

My last entry was written at noon today. I was sitting my private covered carriage, having just decided to start this journal, on the way back from CIA headquarters to my home in central Canterlot. My carriage is one of the few places that is completely secluded for me; there are no windows or openings of any kind save for a small slide-open window that can be used to talk to the driver and the single door on one side that can be locked from the inside. My carriage was about halfway between headquarters and my home, or so I judged, when I felt the whole vehicle slow to a complete halt. I slid open the small window and called to my chauffeur.

"Jiffy!" I called to the pegasus pony pulling my carriage, "Why did you stop?"

"There's somepony here who says she needs to talk to you," came the response. "She says it's 'Agency business,' sir."

Agency business? I had only just finished my last mission down in Stalliongrad a few days before. What could be so important that they needed me so soon? "All right," I called. "Pull over and I'll let them in."

I felt the carriage being drawn once more a bit to the right, and then it stopped again. At once there was a knock at the door and I unlocked it to let in the pony who had hailed my carriage. In stepped a young blue earth pony mare. She pulled the door shut behind her and took a seat in the bench across from mine. Reaching back, she pulled something from her saddlebags.

"Thiff if mmy badge, thir!" she spoke around the object she held in her mouth.

I leaned forward and took a look at what she held in her mouth, and nodded. It was an official courier's badge, complete with the CIA stamp and everything. She had probably been sent to deliver a new set of orders. At my acknowledgment, she spat the badge back into her saddlebags and plunged her face once more into the containers she carried on her back. She pulled out a scroll, which was bound by a string and sealed with wax. I took it with my magic and examined the wax seal. It was the official CIA seal: a phoenix with its wings outstretched, grasping a symbol of the sun in one claw and a crescent moon in the other. I looked it over once to ensure that it was authentic. It was. I popped the seal off and unfurled the scroll to read it.

I'll print it's words here:

The following document is marked at clearance level: EYES ONLY

If you are viewing this document without proper clearance, you are in violation of CIA code 172, sec. 1.

The SECRECY CLASSIFICATION of this document is marked: BURN AFTER READING

Failure to comply with any or all codes of conduct will result in immediate referral to Central Command.

Agent Six,

Your attendance is requested at headquarters ASAP. The CIA requires your services immediately for a case that has come to our attention in Ponyville. Due to the extremely violent nature of the case, Central Command prefers that you and your partner be briefed in private. You are to halt any activities you are currently engaged in, be they official CIA business or otherwise, and return to Headquarters.

We await your return.

I read the document over three times, committing it to memory. I was a little unsettled. A case so extreme they wanted to brief me in person? This had to be a serious one. When I was done, I rolled up the document and nodded to the courier.

"You can go now."

She shook her head. "Sorry sir, I've got my orders. Protocol dictates that I have to watch you burn that before I can leave."

I looked down at the scroll. "Oh, right." Mustering up a small bit of magic, I performed a combustion spell and the scroll burst into flames. The courier watched as the scroll slowly burned away, curling and folding in on itself until nothing was left but ashes. I opened the small window at the front of the carriage to let the smoke waft out.

"Will that be all?" I asked, brushing the ashes off my coat and resolving to sweep out the mess later.

She nodded and saluted. "Leaving with your permission sir! This courier's duties have been completed."

"Run along, then." I opened the door for her and she stepped out. "Oh, wait," I added, reaching into my own saddlebags and pulling out a small pile of coins. "It's about lunchtime, isn't it? Buy yourself something tasty on your break."

She took the small tip with a nod of thanks and cantered off into the distance, presumably to spend her newfound wealth on some delicious treat at the nearby bakery.

I closed the door and locked it once more. Leaning up to the small window, I called out to Jiffy to take me back to headquarters. He nickered softly in answer and I felt the carriage being turned around back the way it came. I sighed as I leaned back in my seat. I had hoped to have a longer break after my last mission. It had been a pretty harrowing one, full of magic-related crimes and all sorts of things I never wanted to think about again. I had been planning to enjoy a nice solitary dinner back at my house but apparently the Powers that Be had other plans for me. I decided that right then was as good a time as any to begin my diary. As the carriage drew ever closer to Headquarters, I wrote my first entry.

When at last the carriage stopped, I tucked the diary away deep in my saddlebags and unlocked the door. Stepping out into the midday sunlight, I took in the glory of Celestia's day. It was pretty nice out; not a cloud in the sky. I turned to Jiffy.

"I'll probably be done in about an hour and a half," I told my pegasus driver. "Go off and find something to eat and meet me back here in that time."

Jiffy nodded and unhooked himself from the carriage. I watched as he unfurled his wings, gave a few warm up strokes, then took off into the air. He vanished quickly into the distance, probably off to his favorite lunch spot. Wherever that was. When I was finished watching him turn into a speck on the horizon, I turned to face the CIA Headquarters.

The main building for the offices of the Canterlot CIA Branch was imposing, to say the least. The massive white stone building stretched up into the sky, reaching higher than most of the surrounding buildings. A huge balcony-like structure protruded from the side about a hundred feet from the roof. This was where pegasi entered, and I could see a few of them flying circles and landing. Below, a wide set of marble stairs protruded from the front of the building and led up to a pair of tall doors, allowing entry for us wingless unicorns and earth ponies. Sighing once more, I made my way up the long staircase. Passing through the rows of stone pillars that held up the balcony above, I pushed open the two massive doors and stepped inside.

I entered the large tall room inside. The scenery always struck me no matter how many times I saw it. It was always just so perfectly white. The welcome room of the CIA building was always a bright white. The floor tiles, the walls, the pillars that held the ceiling, the ceiling itself, even the desk at which the sole secretary sat at. I often wondered what poor pony had to scrub every inch of the room every day to keep it so clean. Or perhaps it was just that it never got dirty. I walked up to the secretary's desk and flashed my CIA badge, levitating it out of my saddlebags.

"Agent...Six, is it?" the unicorn said, peering over the top of her glasses. "They're waiting on you in the briefing room. Down the hall on your right, third door on the left."

I nodded and walked past her wordlessly. I admit I was more than a little interested in hearing about this new case. Despite my distaste for the more...dirtyelements of my job, I did often hold a morbid fascination with the thrill of investigation and murder. It's what drove me to study criminal psychology at the University. As I walked quickly to the briefing room, I found myself once again hoping that this was not a Patch job, and just a normal investigation. I got them occasionally, as I was often picked for my extensive knowledge of the criminal psyche. Those jobs were the best. I got to travel, meet ponies, cooperate with local police departments, and most of all I got thanked and congratulated when we finally put the criminal behind bars. There was no secrecy, no lies, no killing. And I fervently hoped that this new case in Ponyville, violent and distasteful as it apparently was, would turn out to be a simple case of a deranged serial killer or something like that. I didn't want to deal with a terrorist group, or a corrupt politician. I prayed it wouldn't be some scientist researching forbidden magic, or a news reporter asking dangerous questions about the government. I didn't want to cover anything up. I just wanted a nice normal mass murderer.

It's strange now that I think about it, hoping for such a thing.

When I reached the door I had been looking for, I nudged it open with a hoof and walked inside. The inside of the briefing room, much like the rest of the building, was sparsely decorated. In contrast to the pearl white of the outer halls, the inside of this room was a much more earthly brown, due to the wood paneling that made up its walls. The room was small, just barely big enough to fit the twelve-seated rectangular table.

When I entered I immediately saw that I was the last one to arrive. Already sitting at the table was my partner, Blaise. He was resting in the only chair in the room; the rest of the seats around the table were comfortable fluffy pillows. He, however, sat on a swiveling desk chair designed for creatures who were not ponies. Blaise was easily the shortest member of the CIA, standing about as tall as my chest. That was the norm for his kind however; he was a baby dragon. I say "baby," but he was probably a year or two older than me. As I recall, dragons live for thousands of years, and their infantile stage alone can last as long as a whole pony generation. I smiled and gave my greeting to my diminutive orange partner.

"Blaise," I said, acknowledging him with a nod. "How was the break?" I closed the door behind me.

"Break? Do you know what I do when we finish missions? The amount of paper work I have to fill out for you? And just guess what I've been doing all day today. I've been reading up on this case here! I was notified before you were, so they've had me memorizing the whole case file!"

"On the plus side," said the other occupant of the room, "He is now completely familiarized with the situation."

I looked over at the origin of the second voice. There she stood. The big boss lady.

"Princess Luna," I said, bowing my head low. "It is an honor, as always."

The dark colored Alicorn mare accepted my greeting with a quick nod. "Sit down, Agent Six. We have a lot to discuss."

I rested my rump on the pillow next to Blaise's chair, not taking my eyes off the princess. She seemed agitated, more than normal. "Tell me about the case," I said. "What's so important about it that we have to discuss it here in private?"

Princess Luna nodded, and with a wave of her horn she set a box down on the table. She opened the box and drew out a few folders with her magic, setting them down in front of me.

"Here are the case files. This particular set was drawn up ten days ago in Ponyville, when the first report came in." Her horn glowed as she opened the folders and drew out a picture. "This pony was found dead in a local bakery. The on-site coroner who pronounced her dead placed her time of death at about one day before she was found. Apparently the shop had been closed for a couple days while the owners went to buy supplies. We are calling her time of death Day One. The first day of the investigation by local Police. They didn't call us in until this morning, ten days after she was found."

I down at the photograph. The pony that stared back had a wide grin on her face. She was an earth pony, pink in color. Her wildly curly mane was a darker shade of pink, and part of it hung down over one of her eyes. She had a tail to match her mane, and in the picture it curled around her cutie mark, which was a trio of balloons. I studied the picture for a moment before turning it over and reading the name.

"Pinkie Pie," I said, reading aloud. I flipped the picture back over. "And what was the cause of death?"

"The coroner confirmed that the cause of death was asphyxiation. She was choked to death."

"Choked to death with what?"

"That's the weird part!" exclaimed Blaise, standing up in his chair. "She was choked to death with candy!"

I stared at him for a few seconds before closing my eyes and sighing. I was about to ask if they were trying to waste my time when Luna interrupted me.

"Before you make some snide comment about a pony eating too quickly, let me confirm that this was, in fact, a murder." Luna tapped the box with a hoof meaningfully. "The amount of candy found in her trachea was well beyond the amount any pony in their right mind would ever try to eat. An autopsy report that was filed later stated that there was evidence that she was force-fed. The coroner cited heavy damage in her throat and the absurd amounts of sweets as proof of this fact. And there's something else you have to see." Luna levitated a second picture from the photo to me. "This picture was taken at the crime scene. You'll notice right away why local police called us."

I took the picture and set it down on the table to examine it. It was of a kitchen, apparently that of the local Ponyville bakery. There, lying on the floor between counters, was Pinkie Pie. She was lying down on her side quite naturally. In fact, one might have mistaken her for simply having fallen asleep in the middle of cooking, were it not for the thin stream of vomit that was trickling out of the side of her mouth. Looking closely, I could also see the stick ends of lollipops sticking out of her mouth, along with her tongue, which lolled off to the side. Her mouth and tongue were all I could see of the head, however, because covering most of her face was some kind of dishrag or towel.

But it wasn't just the body that drew my attention. Luna was right; I saw it immediately.

Next to her feet on the floor was a word. It had been written in what appeared to be pink cake icing. The writing was very proper, a carefully drawn cursive with extremely loopy L's and stylish slashes across the T's. It looked in every way like it had been written by a professional cake decorator. But most strange was the word itself:

Gluttony

That was it; just one word. I didn't know what it meant, but it was clear that it was some sort of message left behind by her attacker. I looked up at the princess.

"Well, it's pretty strange, that's for sure."

Luna sat down across the table from me. "Tell me what you can from that picture. In your professional opinion, what are we dealing with here?"

I looked back down at the picture, studying it once more before launching into my own analysis. "The first thing I'm interested in here is the cause of death. She didn't just choke to death, she was force-fed candy. That's very brutal; very personal. The killer wanted to be right in her face when she died, and I'm sure that inflicting pain was part of the kill. This suggests that the killer had an intense hatred for her, meaning the killer was somepony she knew." I slid the picture over to the Princess so she could look at it. "Further evidence of that is how neat the crime scene is. Nothing is knocked around, the only things on the floor are the body and the icing message. From what I can tell, the victim's fur hasn't been messed up too much. There's no sign of any kind of struggle or fight. This means two things: first, she knew her attacker. And secondly, the attacker is both fast and strong. He was able to subdue her with little struggle."

Luna nodded, staring at the picture. "A very good analysis. Is there anything else? What do you think of the message?"

I thought for a moment. "'Gluttony,' hmmm? I'm going to go out on a limb and say Pinkie Pie here was an employee of this bakery?"

"You are absolutely right."

"Then we can assume the killer knew this as well. It may be that her working as a maker of sweets led him to think of her as a glutton or some kind of enabler of gluttons, 'Gluttony' being some kind of sin or something he thought needed to be punished." I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "The killer is probably using this as an excuse to justify murder. Killers with deep psychological instability often do things like this." I leaned back and sighed. "So local PD's called us in because we've got a killer leaving messages at the crime scene? It's certainly strange, but why did you specifically call me in for this? I'm sure there are other agents in town who can be assigned. I just returned from active duty."

"I know this is very sudden, but believe me when I say we need you." Luna stood up and began to pace back and forth. "You've shown a great aptitude in the field. That mission you ran three months ago here in Canterlot is evidence of that. But I picked you mainly because of your educational background."

"Because I'm a specialist in Criminal Psychology."

"That's exactly it," Luna said, nodding once more. "I believe that you can find whoever it is that did this."

I looked down at the photograph, and my stomach did flip-flops. This crime was particularly gruesome, and I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to investigating it. I sighed and nodded to Luna. "Alright, looks like I'm going to be taking a trip to Ponyville." I stood up to leave.

"Ah, we're not finished here, Agent Six. There are still some details of this case we have to discuss." Luna tapped her hooves on the table. Clop, clop.

"This is just a straightforward killer case." I looked back at her. "I'll see the scene, build a Profile, and let the local PD find the killer for us. What else is there to discuss?"

"I'm afraid there is more to this case than a single murder."

I sat back down, now feeling more apprehensive. "There's more? Are there more bodies?"

"Yes." Luna tapped the picture. "This was the first murder, but there have been more. Many more. There has been a murder every two days since Pinkie Pie's body was found. The latest body was found today."

I was reeling. A body every two days? That was unheard of. No serial killer in history had been that quick. I did the math in my head. Ten days... a body every two days... that was-

"Five," Luna said. "Five murders."