A Study in Mint

I suppose I should tell you everything you need to know. Mind you, even though most of what you're going to hear comes from my own decision, I'm following certain instructions even now. In case I'll ever get captured, there is a certain amount of information I was told I should deploy to my captors; especially the infamous Lyra Heartstrings.

You may not realize it Miss Heartstrings, but you've got quite a lot of fans out there. And not all of their intentions are purely beneficial.

So where do I start? My name is Crossroads, I work as a cab driver. Just another poor bastard, and an underpaid earth pony stallion, formerly of Fillydelphia. But you already know that.

Underpaid is the word that probably makes all the difference here. As I have told you already, my primary occupation has always been the work as a cab driver I perform in whatever city I live in. But if you know a little bit about the business, you've probably also heard that it's not exactly among the most well-paid jobs in our country. Fifty bits a week may be enough to support oneself, as well as a small apartment. But beyond that...things get tough.

I won't deny it, I've always had the dream of having a family of my own one day. But living paycheck to paycheck, only taking care of my own upkeep, I just didn't see it happen. Heck, I kept living on canned food more or less every last third of a month. The tips I received rarely made much of a difference. And I couldn't possibly depend on those.

Well, what to do? It took a few years for me to grow tired of my low salary, but eventually I decided it was time to make a change. I started to look out for a better source of employment, a side job maybe. Mainly, I kept searching by asking the ponies around me. In a position like mine, you do meet a lot of new faces every day. Maybe, I thought, one of them might have some kind of suggestion for me. Some other source of employment that would allow me to earn a few extra bits.

I may not be the most creative of ponies, but asking others for advice seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. Among those were my colleagues at work as well as my clients. And, of course, whoever else I happened to meet. Unfortunately, most of them didn't have any better ideas then myself. Or they just didn't have the time and motivation to lend me a helping hoof at the given time. And who can blame them? Everypony's got their own troubles, after all.

After weeks of searching, my hopes had already dissipated completely, leaving me even more discouraged then before. You see, from where I found myself, I was willing to do almost anything in search for a better life. I grew increasingly desperate to find a solution in time, knowing that certain factors such as my own age and strength wouldn't remain as charitable forever. And when finally a chance arrived, I couldn't resist but go ahead and take it. Even if I questioned the moral background of this path more than once, you may believe me in that.

It all happened on another one of these rainy, autumn nights, just last fall. Black and whispering rain on the streets of Fillydelphia, the sun long gone behind the western horizon...you get the idea. As my luck would have it on some of these days, I had to work the late night shift. It's these times that honestly make a pony hate his life. Spending half the night in this cold and merciless environment never proves very gentle. During the first few times on the job, it really does feel like freezing to death. But one can get accustomed to anything, I suppose.

Tired and soaked by the rain as always, I stood waiting in front of one of the local casinos that night. We don't have a whole lot of these establishments back in Filly, but most of its citizens couldn't afford the luxury in the first place. Yours truly included. Anyhow, there was some important business pony to be picked up from the place. Somepony from out of town, it seemed. The kind that's always happy to pay quite a poor driver a good fee, so I was more than happy to accept the task. Even though it wasn't the most pleasant. But then again, it never was.

Luckily, the guy I was supposed to pick up didn't leave me waiting excessively long. He came strolling outside a good ten minutes after my own arrival. The stallion didn't strike me as anything out of the ordinary at first - from what I could tell, he was just another one of those high profile jocks with nothing better to do than to waste their spare change at night. Which he probably didn't have to work for very hard, but I kept that thought to myself.

Whatever he had available for tossing out that night probably amounted to more than I'd make in an entire year. Another reason for the guy at the bottom of the food chain to make a good impression. My customer had a shortened brown mane, and a dark grayish coat. He also wore one of these tacky business suits; checkered black and white, a somewhat loosened black tie visible from below. I couldn't make out any more of him in the darkened twilight, except for him being a unicorn. There wasn't a whole lot of effort for me to put in, either. After all, impressions or not, at the end of the day he was just another client to me. No more, no less.

He ordered me to get the cab towards some kind of penthouse-apartment building, a couple of blocks away. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. More like what I'd expected. I just pretty much went ahead to complete his order, get my cash, and be done with it. As I wanted to be done with that night in due time.

Of course, we broke into a bit of small-talk during our ride. It's part of the job; ponies always do that. Jobs, employments, families...whatever comes to mind. And isn't too private to share in order to kill some time. Not that I care.

As usual, I also told him about my situation, and whatever minor junk it was I had to put with at the time. I may have lamented a bit about money being that tight for hard working ponies, and the unfair distribution of wealth, but that didn't seem to put in a whole lot of interest from his side. The way I see it, he was more interested in my self-description of being quite busy, and constantly hard at work. Though he did make an effort of not letting me know straight out.

When we reached the address in question, my client leaped off the carriage, and thanked me for the ride. Which, if I may say so, already contains a lot more politeness than what I'm used to. He payed me my regular fee, plus a few extra coins for my efforts. I returned his thanks in all sincerity, and wished him a good night's rest.

That's when he grew extremely discreet, all of a sudden. He asked me if I could keep some secrets, and whether I'd be interested in a part-time employment he might be willing to organize. There would be good money in for me, and none of it would in any way interfere with my official job. Why, being a cab driver was what mostly made myself attractive for what he'd planned.

The job itself wouldn't be too hard, he told me. All I had to do was get a few ponies across town, or make a certain delivery, on occasion. Completion as quickly and stealthy as possible, with a strain of cash waiting for me upon successful completion. After that, everyone would go their separate ways, with no further questions asked. Of course not.

All of this looked like some very peculiar business, and you can probably guess which way we're headed from here on out. Whether my part in this would be completely legal or not...well, I could probably guess the answer to that question myself. But given my situation, I decided it would be worth a try, nevertheless. Driving ponies around, even if they were some kind of criminals, wouldn't defer all that much from what I usually did. When in doubt, I could always pretend to be the clueless little guy. Also, it didn't mess with my moral values. At least, not a whole lot. I figured none of this wouldn't hurt anypony directly, and my own hoofs would remain relatively clean. The less I knew about the big picture, the better.

After a minute or so of pondering my options, I answered his request in the affirmative. He nodded, and told me he was - of course - more than glad to hear that. He also explained to me that his superior, a certain pony named Moriarty would get in touch sooner or later. The exact point in time had yet to be determined, I should simply stay put for whenever they needed me. It was this Moriarty, who'd tell me where to go and what to do, when the time came. If I proved myself able for that kind of assignment, I would be in for a lot of money, soon enough. That certainly did move the arrangement a good deal in my favor.

Until anything happened however, I was to stay in the same place, and resume my daily routine as usual. Not to cause any suspicion, I suppose. It was for the same reason, that I should keep my current employment, despite all the advantages this new one brought along. It would arouse a lot of unnecessary suspicion if I quit my job only to earn more money than before, afterwards. Besides, only a cab driver could pass through different districts of the city unknown and unseen, and that was the great benefit of my position.

The stallion, whose name I didn't manage to catch that night, and I parted ways shortly after our mutual agreement. Despite keeping in contact with his network - which I guessed it was - I wouldn't see him again anytime soon. Mostly, I was to be contacted by typewritten telegrams or letters, giving me my instructions. So, even if I wanted to, I couldn't give you any more information about the ponies I worked with all this time.

I did of course wonder whether sending telegrams through official lines wouldn't be a bit suspicious as well. But from all I gathered, there weren't any larger problems with that, for whatever reason. And that was good enough for me.

Now, as the strange stallion had predicted, life resumed as usual after that night. For a good two weeks, I kindly resumed my job, and didn't hear anything from anypony, again. After a while, I started to imagine that all of this was nothing but a joke played on me, and that my client from that night was probably long gone, laughing at my foolishness somewhere. Or maybe, I thought to myself, none of this ever happened, and it was all some kind of strange nightmare. That possibility always did exist, of course.

Either of these very thought made me cringe, anyway. But there was nothing I could do about it, and I eventually decided to forget about what had happened for good. It was only after the passing of said two weeks that I received a telegram delivered to my apartment one day. I had been at work until four in the morning or so, and thus didn't recognize its arrival until early afternoon. And I didn't pay it a lot of attention even then. Only reading through the text during a late breakfast did I realize what it was all about.

Precisely like I've been told before, the letter was signed by the single word Moriarty and nothing else. Like most telegrams, this one had been typed out at the local post office, so there wasn't any point in trying to trace it back anywhere beyond. I could only tell that whoever must have sent it didn't live in the same city. Otherwise, I couldn't see any reason he or she might have to use that way of delivering information.

The letter itself didn't contain any more but a few, shortened sentences. They instructed me about everything I'd have to do at a given time and place, summed up in a very objective fashion. To give you the short description, there were two ponies I'd have to pick up two blocks south from the central market later that day. Both of them needed to get to the railway station at Neighwark within an hour. Though it didn't say so in the letter, it appeared they wanted to get away in southern direction, probably heading towards Baltimare or so.

Again, there wouldn't be any further questions asked from either side, of course. I simply went ahead, and fulfilled the job given to me at my best intentions. Though the time wasn't set during my shift, I nevertheless managed to bring my carriage to the market during the time requested. The two ponies I had to pick up, a stallion and a mare I think they were, quickly jumped onto the carriage after recognizing me. I'm afraid I can't quite recall what either of them looked like. My memory can be quite horrible with faces, sometimes. Both of them urged me to race towards their destination in a hurry. Away from some kind of local trouble, as they described it.

As most ponies would do, I decided to give it my best during my first day on the job. As soon as I got out of the afternoon traffic downtown, I started racing the two all across the city as fast as I could. Everything went smooth from there, and we arrived at Neighwark after nothing more than a good forty minutes. Without wanting to show off, I must admit that I was actually quite impressed, myself.

The two ponies didn't seem to share my enthusiasm. All they did was letting me know my task had been carried out well, and my payment could be found in the back of the cab. I'd be hearing from them soon enough, apparently. Without losing any more time, the two of them quickly vanished into the terminal building after our brief exchange, and disappeared from sight. I didn't see either of them again afterwards, but I assume they must have gotten away with it. If they didn't, I'm pretty sure I'd know. And assuming they made it all the way to Baltimare, I didn't expect meeting them around town anytime soon.

I remained on a cautious lookout for the better part of an hour, even after they left. When nothing else would disturb the peace, I stumbled back towards the cab, and decided to take a better look at what I've been paid. Once there, I discovered it was a lot more than I expected, to say the least. The two ponies had left a sober amount of five-hundred bits in cash inside the trunk. You can probably imagine my reaction very well; after all, this changed everything. For the first time in years, I wouldn't have to worry about my financial situation, let alone count every coin in my pocket whenever shopping for groceries or whatnot. I still didn't know what it was I did, or whom exactly I was working for. But it didn't matter anymore. With this amount of money, nothing did.

Then again, I'd still have to keep my job as a taxi driver. And I shouldn't go out, spending my newly discovered wealth all at once. That wouldn't be a wise move if I wanted to stay at a somewhat higher standard for a while. Also, I wanted to avoid any trouble, thus keeping the Internal Revenue Ponies off my tail. Going to jail for tax evasion wasn't exactly something to look forward to, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Over the weeks following that strange event, I got contacted by all sorts of different ponies who needed to be "picked up" on a regular basis. There even were some griffins once or twice, usually a rather rare sight in our parts of the country. I feared they would make it easier for us to get caught, but nothing of the sort ever happened. And thus, without causing any stir, my appointments always remained as straightforward as they started out. I didn't ask any questions, they didn't tell me anything I didn't want to know. At the end of each job, there would be a comfortable payment waiting for me. It was simple, really. And I didn't have any problems continuing my regular job as usual. I simply had to keep my working hours and those other missions separate. Which wasn't too hard. The cab was mostly parked in front of my own apartment during my time off, so no-one at work noticed me rambling about during my free time. Of course, I had to take care nopony would spot me at what I kept doing, but Fillydelphia is a large enough city to keep matters simple. In any case, there would always be a crowd to hide in, somewhere nearby.

It wasn't before early November that the entire matter should be given another twist. Another telegram arrived back then, giving me instructions for a new job I had to finish. The entire description didn't quite fit into the usual pattern - the entire scheme took place late at night, and within the very outskirts of town. Also, my route didn't stretch longer than a few blocks; starting from a large business complex, up to a rundown motel about a mile further south.

I viewed the instructions with some suspicion naturally, but ultimately decided to ignore the details. The time of day didn't interfere with the working shift I'd been given that week, and the overall job didn't seem to difficult. So, I didn't see any way of disagreeing with it. And even if I did, there was no way I would ever be able to tell the people I worked for. It hadn't dawned on me then, but if I ever wanted to get out of the business, I had no idea of how to do that. As long as the money kept coming in, I never really thought about these things. An income of that size really does do a great job dampening one's thoughts.

That day was for no such worries, I decided. After going about my business during the daytime, I once again holstered my carriage. Shortly after nightfall, I went off towards the address given to me. The streets were relatively empty already, so I didn't have to slow down from my usual pace, and arrived at my destination before long. That's when everything started to get out of control.

I parked the cab inside the yard, while keeping an eye on the building's back door. The letter told me to wait for my client here, since he probably wouldn't be able to use the front door after he'd done his part. I didn't ask myself or anyone what his part could possibly be about, and frankly, I didn't care. All I needed to know was how to get him away from here, and I had sketched that out pretty well before even coming here. This way, a huge part of my time was spent merely waiting for somepony to step out the door. It startled me, I admit, since my appointments were usually kept very much on time. This one, however, would leave me waiting out in the yard for more than half-an-hour. It did feel like something was wrong, but I had no idea on what else to do than keep waiting. After all, I couldn't do as much as just leave. There needed to be an explanation for all this delay, and I felt obliged to know what was going on.

It took a whole forty-five minutes from the time of our appointment that the door finally burst open, revealing a young colt. He was much younger, and shorter in size than I expected; why, his flank didn't even bear a mark, yet. And a lot more nervous at that. Even the way he threw open the door had such an impact, I wouldn't have trusted him with that kind of physical force, and if my life depended on it.

I couldn't make out his features, just then. It was too dark to see anything but his outline to be honest, and he kept rushing towards me like a blur. None of which made comprehending the situation any easier.

"Move it!" his squeaking voice yelled at me several times, while he galloped through the yard, approaching my carriage. "We need to get out!"

He didn't get as far, I'm afraid. When he had crossed our distance about halfway, a pegasus mare suddenly appeared in the door frame. Like with the colt, it was hard to make out her features against the inside light. Even though she didn't move around a whole lot, as opposed to him. I could well recognize a thing or two about her, before realizing something that made the blood in my veins freeze: Apart from her sudden appearance, she was also wielding a medium-sized shotgun between her jaws.

As the colt closed in even more, ready to jump onto the carriage any moment now, she pulled the trigger. I wouldn't know how to pull that off without any unicorn magic, but somehow she did. A valiant portion of lead was thus fired our way, and - by some unearthly miracle - managed to miss myself completely. Same couldn't be said for him, however. Only two feet apart from me, the ammunition went straight through his head. Its sheer force knocked him over, never to rise, again.

When I saw the blood and gore of his insides splatter all across the side of my wagon, my heart sure did skip more than just a short beat. My adrenaline levels shot up, bringing me to the verge of panicking within seconds. Still strapped to the carriage, I started to race forward with all my might. The mare had probably started to reload her weapon, but I didn't spare a second look for her. All I could think about was getting away as quickly as I could. While making my escape, I heard two more gunshots being fired from behind. In case they were meant for me, I could consider myself lucky not to be hit by either one.

Keeping up my speed, I rushed out of the backyard, and chased down one street after another. Until I reached the safety of my own home, I didn't stop to catch my breath once. I didn't even look back. Only when my home street came into view did I manage to calm down a little, and take a short look at my surroundings. It was still late at night, and nopony was to be seen anywhere. Lucky for me, since a cab wagon soaked with the blood of somepony else would have definitely made some kind of grand appearance. I needed to avoid that at all costs.

I decided to hide the carriage in my own backyard, hoping no-one else would discover for the time being. I called in sick for work the next day, so I could be given some time to resolve this trouble I found myself in. Of course, there was still the mare who allegedly tried to kill me, and a whole bunch of ponies I'd failed, even though I knew none of them.

And - of course - a kid being shot dead right in front of me. All these issues lasted heavily on my mind, and I didn't sleep very well that night. A ton of nightmares would haunt me until the late morning hours, even though those weren't very far away, anymore.

Waking up around eleven, I found another telegraphed letter in my mailbox. Once again, the sender was the very same pony who would constantly assign new jobs to me, somepony called Moriarty. This time, the message didn't just consist of a mere few facts and instructions. Instead, it was a message to be treated with the utmost urgency, saying I had to leave Fillydelphia immediately wouldn't I want to end up in a cage. Whatever that meant. It also read that I was to destroy all evidence of everything I've ever done in connection to them before leaving. Which probably meant all the letters and telegrams I'd gotten over time. Without further ado, I went ahead and burned all of them up in the stove. Including this one, that is.

There was a railway ticket attached, reserving me a spot in some express train that was to leave from Fillydelphia Central that very day, only three hours from then. The night's memories still heavily lasting on my mind, I packed my things and a few bits together in a saddlebag, and made a run for it. As instructed, I left town that afternoon. If you'd ask me what happened to my apartment, or the cab wagon in my backyard, there would be no way I could tell you. I haven't returned since.

The letter instructed me to stay on board until reaching the end of the line. At the concerning location, I would then meet somepony who could help me out. The last stop just so happened to be Ponyville, so that's where I got off. Like I was told, as always.

To my surprise, I was greeted by the very same pony who had first introduced me to this whole business in Fillydelphia, a few months back. The dark gray unicorn stallion walked up to me now, narrowing his eyes at my sight. He might not have recognized me on first sight, but I sure knew whom I was dealing with.

He sounded stern when first addressing me, though he did also reassure me that none of the unfortunate events from earlier were any of my fault. Nevertheless, it had been necessary to get me out of the city, since my whole last job had gone so terribly wrong, and we also had a witness who saw my face. All of this brought me in immediate danger of getting caught, he told me. Which - in turn - would have been quite a risk for him, since I already knew a whole lot about the whole operation. I didn't agree with him on that fact, but he insisted.

The stallion, whose name I now learned to be Black Dog had thought of everything. He rented a small cottage on my name within the outskirts of Ponyville, organized a new job for me as a local cab driver, and even a carriage more or less identical to my old one. He told me to stick around and not leave the town, until matters in Fillydelphia would cool down. He would let me know whenever that was.

I was also informed that my services might be needed again sometime, though I shouldn't worry about that too much for starters. At the time, I was simply expected to get back to my normal job, and try to learn my way around town. Most ponies didn't mind my sudden appearance in these parts, and the town got used to my presence fairly quick.

Everything turned out smooth sailing from there. I resumed to work at my casual employment, while enjoying a change of scenery. And I still had a considerable amount of coins from back home, so life wasn't all that uncomfortable. For several months, I lived this way within Ponyville, while getting to know some of the locals better. Most of which were a lot more friendly here than back in Fillydelphia, for some reason.

Ironically, Miss Heartstrings here was among my most regular clients. I suppose that didn't turn out for the best.

Anyhow, matters went on like that, until about last week. While I was at work, quite usually like every day, passing the Ponyville Market, the unicorn stallion from before would suddenly approach me once more. Surprisingly, Black Dog suddenly appeared a lot more nervous, and to some degree even paranoid, than before. Though I didn't know him all that well, I hadn't seen him as shaken before, and I could tell there was some kind of trouble going around, once again.

When asked, he told me that his colleagues back on the east coast had in fact identified the pegasus mare who shot our client the other day. They also told him that she had - for some reason - booked a ticket to Ponyville, and was to arrive with one of the next trains, coming that night. And whatever she was up to, it wouldn't do either of us any good.

We quickly agreed that this trouble had to be dealt with. Black Dog told me that, despite all his panicking, he had already developed a plan on how to take care of the matter. The sole problem being that I had to carry out the operation myself, and very probably kill our target in the process.

I had my doubts, mind you. But being reassured there was no other way, I eventually gave in to his demands. He equipped me with everything I needed, and information about where and when to strike. The only doubt that remained to myself was the question, whether I could possibly trust him with all this. Thus, before leaving, he handed me a small piece of golden jewelry. It was his wedding ring, he told me, one of his most prized possessions. I had to give it back as soon as the job was completed. Until then, it would serve as prove that he wouldn't skip town or anything while I was going back out there.

I had my doubts even then, only now getting to know of his marriage in the first place. Eventually though, I realized trusting him would very probably be my best option, so I went for it despite everything. As we parted ways, he kept mumbling something of drowning his worries in some kind of liquor. To be honest, I didn't pay too much attention to him at the time.

I went to the train station the following night, hoping to catch our mare in question. And I'd done my best to prepare myself for any kind of trouble. Black Dog's plan was of a very delicate nature, and I had to mind a number of details if I wanted to succeed. This way, there was a shotgun strapped to my side, among a few tins of poison. Each of them remained hidden well beneath a dark cloak that covered most of my torso. Disguised as the simple cab driver I was, my features well hidden by the darkness around me, I awaited her train's arrival to the other side of the terminal building.

I was - once again - lucky with my choices. The pegasus mare did in fact emerge form the station's central entrance minutes after her train had passed. She looked along the street, up to the Golden Oak Library, with a skeptical look in her eyes for a moment. Then, she slowly approached my carriage, and climbed on, while giving me an address to the south of town.

As you probably know, there are a lot of empty, and worn-out housings in that part of town. Not expecting her to know the town particularly well, I made for one of those to finally confront her. It didn't take very long; I already knew the way. After a short while, I stopped my cab in front of an old, deserted building. From what I gathered, it suited my needs well enough.

The mare eyed her new surroundings with suspicion; she even asked me, whether I was completely certain this was the right address. I only responded with a sole nod at first, fearing my voice to give away too much of my nervousness. Eventually though, I had to make my offer of escorting her inside. She didn't seem incredibly happy about it, but neither did she argue with me on the subject.

It was settled, then. She was the first to step into the old building, me following close behind. A dim light would fall upon the inside scenery, as I lit up a small gas lamp standing in one corner of the room.

'Now,' I then said, while I eventually pulled back the cloak, revealing myself. 'I take it, you still recognize me?'

Her eyes widened at my sight, especially when they fell on the gun I carried alongside myself, but she remained a lot more resolved than I had expected. In the end, she even lowered her head in some kind of resignation.

'Well,' she told me with a sigh. 'Do what you must. This had to end one way or another.'

It was then that I told her not so fast; I subsequently reached into my saddlebags, pulling out two of the cans I'd been given earlier. Placing both of them on the ground between us, I explained the rules to her.

The game was all too simple, really. Both cans contained two different substances that looked virtually alike. There was no way telling the difference between them with the naked eye. Only one of them was actual poison, however. Strong enough to kill a pony within seconds. The other was virtually harmless, containing little more than a few plastic pills. But as long as you don't know which one's which, that information doesn't help a whole lot.

Now, it was her turn to pick. Whatever can she would choose to gulp down, I would do the same with the other. That way, one of us lived, while the other one...well, didn't. When in doubt, I'd still have a gun right next to me that could shorten the entire process a great deal. It wasn't how my colleague had originally devised the plan, who would have gone for the shorter variant right away. Still, the poison was his idea, and I merely refined it a little.

The mare and I then broke out into a heated discussion that lasted no less than a good half hour. As opposed to what I'd expected, she was a lot tougher to crack. All the while, she revealed very little about herself, or her thought process. Speaking of which, to this day I have no idea how she originally got caught up in this business. Thinking back, I guess I should have asked her about that first.

Anyhow, by the end of our discussion, she seemed to realize and accept there was no way out for her. Glancing at the two choices presented to her, she hesitated a short while longer. I don't know what it was that finally influenced her decision, but after a while, she took one of the cans with a swift pull, gulped it down, and hoped for the best.

It didn't take long from there, that she started to have trouble breathing, and began to choke a great deal. As soon as she noticed the poison being in her system, her eyes widened in horror, and she looked at me with a begging plea, hoping for some kind of mercy. Unfortunately for her, I wouldn't have been able to help her, even if I wanted to. As far as I know, there is no such thing as an antidote for what she'd just swallowed. All things considered, there was nothing left to do for me, than wait.

Shortly after that, the mare collapsed onto the floor, and ceased her every breathing soon after. While I started to approach her, in order to make sure of her passing, I suddenly felt a first drop of blood running out through my nostril, presumably coming from my excitement.

It took a good while of considering, until I made up my mind about what to do with it. I read about something similar in newspapers, times and again to be exact. Criminal organizations and families, mostly made up from foreign nationals, would often leave a note at the scene of their crime as some kind of signature. I thought of it as a joke to do the same thing in my case, and decided to scribble something on the wall. Since the first foreign word that came into my mind was the Fancy expression for 'apple,' my decision fell on that.

Visibly shaken, I left the house soon after, extinguishing every light still burning inside it. There didn't seem to be any witnesses around, so I strapped myself back into my carriage, and went off. My next destination was to be Black Dog's house, so I could tell him all about it. The sooner he knew about our success, the better.

He lived, as I found out, on the top floor from a small restaurant at Bucker Street - the very same building I just happened to get arrested in front of. There was still a light burning in one of the windows, so I decided to knock on the front door to make myself heard. There was a faint 'Come in' to be heard from upstairs, and I was surprised to find the door unlocked.

I went upstairs to meet my colleague, and found him sitting at a wooden desk, his head resting in his forehoofs. An emptied bottle of whiskey resting on said table quickly told me about his version of the night. As it seemed, his mentions from earlier weren't as far-fetched after all.

Despite his uncanny appearance, I let my enthusiasm get the better of me. So, I told him my whole story, in every detail. Of course, that way I also mixed in the part where I disobeyed his orders to simply use the poison on her without much further ado. He didn't care much for what I had to tell, if only I could get him his ring back, and be done with it.

I reached in my pocket then, in order to hand it over, only to realize it wasn't there, anymore. Surely, it fell out some time earlier that night, but from all I knew, it could be anywhere in town. Confessing that part of the story to him,I hoped he wouldn't mind too much. After all, objects of such value tend to reappear sooner or later, and it really wasn't anything of any larger importance for the overall operation. Unfortunately, I underestimated the lack of reasoning coming from a drunkard.

'You did what?' he yelled, much to me being taken aback. 'How could you...dammit, what am I gonna tell my wife? Am I only...surrounded by idiots or something?'

All his former authority or demand for respect was gone. There was - quite frankly - no way of reasoning with Black Dog at the moment. Only I didn't realize that right away. I told him how assured I was about somepony finding it soon enough, and how I'd go looking for it first thing in the morning. But he didn't seem to be appeased by that.

'Is that some kind of game to you? I'll show you what kind of game I'd like to play!'

Before I could react, he suddenly held a knife between his teeth, and started galloping towards me. I backed away, naturally startled by his approach, but it didn't matter to him. Not a whole lot, anyway. With another few steps, he reached for me, slashing his blade right through the skin on my right foreleg.

I wasn't too gravely injured, though it did burn like tartarus upon impact. In a wave of instinct, I pulled another one of the cans from my saddlebag, while simultaneously giving him a punch with my healthy foreleg. Stumbling back from the impact, he instantly dropped his weapon, only to charge at me once more, completely unarmed this time.

I let my hoof swing forward at him again, thus shoving the remaining can down his throat with an impressively powerful impact. Distracted by that, he skipped, which sent him flying right past me. Getting back up, he suddenly started choking similar as the mare had done earlier that night. I realized only then what I'd obviously done: Sent another dose of poison down somepony's system. He seemed to see it, too.

'WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?' he yelled, just before making a break for the bathroom. I heard a few more choking sounds coming from his direction, and then nothing. Checking back with him a few minutes later, I found Black Dog lying motionlessly on the floor.

It didn't take me very long to recognize what happened. Instead, I left another message from my bleeding leg, then turned around, jolting out of the house as fast as my hoofs would carry me. Once outside, I grabbed my carriage, and raced back home. Hopefully, I thought, this night wouldn't have any further consequences for me. Which was obviously rather foolish of me. During the past few days, I haven't gotten any further note from anyone, so I guessed the whole matter would be resolved. But that's not the case. I realized that a little too late.

Finally, I'd like you all to know that I don't hold any grudge against any of you. I was naive from the first day on to think what I did wouldn't get me caught. I...suppose it's all in the natural order of things. And now, with all the suspects known to me being deceased, there is nothing more I could hope to inform you about. As far as I'm concerned, my case is concluded with this report. That is all.

Finishing his - in some ways excessively long - narrative, Mr Crossroads looked into three very different expressions given to him by three very different ponies.

First of all, Time Turner, who sat to my left. His eyes narrowed, and head slightly tilted to the side, he glanced at our guest with all his suspicions. It wouldn't surprise me, hadn't he believed everything Crossroads told him. After all, a pony in his position got paid for no less: Finding out the truth, no matter what. A good sense of doubt could never hurt in that kind of business. And maybe his trained senses had already discovered a few gaps and holes in Crossroads' story, which I happened to overlook.

I for once looked at the light brown stallion in a certain sense of fascination. His tale had no less sparked my interest, even if it didn't make sense at every single twist and turn. I suppose I would have been a lot more mistrustful, had I stood in Turner's horseshoes that day. After all, ignoring Lyra's weird sense of logic for once, I only was a civilian in this entire matter.

Lyra's expression hardly changed the moment Crossroads finished his last sentence. She nodded and constantly mumbled to herself all through his monologue, while constantly scribbling down his words onto the parchment in front of her. Even after he was done, the sound of her quilt scratching over the scroll's surface would fill the room for a few moments longer. When she finally looked up from her notes, she had a distant look on her face that none of us could possibly interpret.

"It does strike me," she began. "How you managed to elegantly remove your illness from this entire story of yours. Wouldn't it...have some sort of influence on your latest actions, if it were that urgent?"

Our eyes turned back to Crossroads; I could especially see a sense of curiosity lighten up in Turner's eyes. Surely, he had a similar question to his convict.

"Yes, well...yes," Crossroads admitted. "I suppose that is a small detail I wanted to leave out. Forgive my bluntness, but accepting this lethal threat hasn't been easy for me. It still isn't, matter of fact. I try not to think about it, most of the time. It's going to get to me either way. I guess my basic idea was that I could spend the last few days I had in this town...and at peace. When that peace got threatened by others, I might have overreacted a bit. I guess I just didn't want to die alone in a prison cell, but there's no way around that either way, now.

"Well, I can't say I have any other regrets. Maybe what I did was wrong, but it doesn't actually matter in the long run. At least this way I've had a somewhat interesting part of my life...even if it didn't last very long. There's not much more I could ask for."

Slowly rubbing her forehoofs together, Lyra nodded in satisfaction. She levitated her writing equipment back onto the nearby shelf, then sat back with some newly discovered ease.

"Now, wait a second," Turner suddenly blurted in between them. "So what about this Moriarty person? Don't you think you can give us his identity in some way, a name at least? Hey, what did I say now?" he added in annoyance, when Lyra started to chuckle over his questions.

"You did listen to him, didn't you?" she asked. "He never met this other pony, and every evidence that could lead us to him was destroyed months ago. He couldn't possibly tell us anything, even if he wanted to."

She leaped out of her armchair. "By the way, I suppose the time for you to leave us has arrived, either way. It looks like your requested transport to Canterlot is here."

"How would you - " Turner began, when at the same moment the entrance door to our apartment opened up behind him, revealing Miss Hooves, as well as our landlady standing behind her.

"Sir, your requested transport to Canterlot is here," the former stated, addressing Turner. Her expression turned somewhat puzzled when he only deadpanned in response. Without any more words, Time Turner trotted towards the door, leaving his colleague utterly confused. When she gave me a questioning look, I only shrugged and motioned towards Lyra with my head. I think she understood the rest.

Crossroads followed in Turner's tracks without much resistance. Of course, he had already seen that nothing good would come of trying to escape. In one way or another, I felt relieved to see him go. Though I did feel somewhat uncertain about what to do next. Breakfast sure hadn't been much of a success, to say the least.

Turning back around, I could see Lyra still looking towards the door, through which everyone else had just exited the scene. At that moment, the first signs of a grin started to pull at the corners of her mouth.