Nix: Collision

“You’re serious?” Knuckles asked his pink companion. “Sonic’s in jail?”

“Of course I’m serious!” Amy exclaimed. She waved the newspaper in front of the echidna’s face. “Just look at the front article.

Knuckles grimaced as he read it. “Reminds me way too much of that whole issue with Shadow all those years ago.”

“Yeah. Speaking of Shadow, where do you think he is?”

“Probably looking for answers as to where we are.” Knuckles shrugged. “Or being a loner.”

“And the others?”

“Sonic’s in jail, so Tails and Jared are probably trying to find him. Communicators are shot, so we can’t tell them where we are.”

They glanced around. They were in the city where Sonic was apprehended—apparently it was called Canterlot—after having woken up on its border. The streets were filled with talking ponies, all either ignoring the two or giving them the stinkeye.

Knuckles snorted. “Man, what’s their problem? We haven’t done anything yet, and already they’re giving us mean looks.”

“Must be the culture,” Amy commented. She walked up to a stallion who was sitting at a coffee table. “Excuse me, sir, which way to the Canterlot dungeon?”

He barely glanced at her. “I’m not going to talk to filth like you.”

“F-filth?!” Amy screeched. She got closer to the stallion, and he finally made eye contact. He shivered under her harsh gaze. She pulled out her Piko Piko hammer from her skirt (Knuckles still had no idea how she stored it there) and grinned at the stallion menacingly.

“Now, unless you want to know what getting hit with a two hundred pound hammer is like, tell me where the Canterlot dungeon is.”

“R-r-right that way, Miss!” he stuttered, pointing down the street towards a building embedded in a mountain. “Just go down there! I promise, you’ll find it there!”

“You had better,” she said menacingly, “or I’ll be back.” He gulped.

She walked back to Knuckles. “Well? Shall we go?”

He sighed. No wonder Sonic is afraid of you. “Yeah, let’s go before this guy hurls. Poor choice of coffee, I might add,” he called over his shoulder, causing the stallion to look down at his cup guiltily.

***

J

Judging from what Fluttershy had said, it had only been a few hours between the murder and the apprehension of Sonic. That meant that, if what she said about Canterlot was true, the bodies would still be there for the reporters to view.

We flew in low, landing in the street. A few ponies gave us odd looks, but most ignored us. We walked up to the alley where the murder took place. A crowd of ponies of various shapes and sizes surrounded the alley; we had to push our way through.

“What?!” one of the police ponies was saying to a cadet. “What do you mean our lead detectives is out?!”

“H-he came down with the pony pox, sir,” the cadet stammered. “T-this is the first day of most of the officers here.”

“Are you kidding me?!” the police pony roared. “You mean I’m surrounded by inexperienced cops?!” He sighed angrily. “Fine, then. Just cover up the bodies.”

Not just yet, I thought to myself. “Wait!” I called.

All eyes suddenly turned to me, first cynical, then surprised, then shocked. “What the—what the hay are you?” the police pony asked.

I glanced at his uniform, seeing it had three lines on top of each other in a hexagonal shape. “Sergeant, don’t cover up the bodies just yet!” I said, ignoring his question.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “And why not? Listen here, whatever you are, we’ve caught the suspect. There’s no need to further this investigation!”

I was vaguely aware of the many reporters who were staring at me, busy writing on their notepads. I stepped forward. “You may have missed several crucial details, sir.”

He scoffed. “Oh, please. We’ve already got enough evidence to say that the suspect is the actual murderer.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “… what’s your name, Sergeant?”

“Bullock, kid. Justice Bullock. You hear that, reporters?” he added. “You had better spell it right!”

“Very well, Sergeant Bullock. Are you a reputable officer?”

“Am I a—why, of course! I take this job very seriously!”

“What’s Jared doing?” I heard Fluttershy say to Tails.

“Something special,” Tails said back. I glanced at him, seeing that he had a small smile on his face. “Just listen.”

“Really, now?” I continued. “So, that must mean that you have a good reputation!”

“Yup!” He grinned. “I’ve caught every culprit  of every crime on the first try!”

“I see. Then, perhaps it would interest you to know that you’ve messed up this time?”

He glared at me. “What are you saying, kid? That I don’t know how to do my job?”

“Not at all,” I said calmly. “Just that you caught the wrong culprit.”

He gritted his teeth. “Listen, kid, I don’t take kindly to people thinking that know better—”

“Would you rather have an innocent person go to jail for a crime he did not commit?” I argued. He flinched at my words, as did the crowd. “Would you want that stain upon your reputation? I can see the headline: ‘Sergeant Bullock, finally wrong after so many rights!’”

I took another step forward, this time much closer to the bodies. I ignored their stench, staring Bullock in the eye. “You have made a massive grievance, officer,” I said calmly. “A huge mistake. A gigantic error. And, unless you wish for me to not rectify your situation, do not cover the bodies.”

The crowd was rendered silent at my cold command. I stared Bullock down, trying to look as intimidating as I could muster. He started, hesitated, then sighed. “Alright, kid. I may not look like it, but I’m always open to suggestion.” He gestured at the crime scene. “Show me how we’ve captured the wrong guy.”

I nodded, bending down. I first inspected the non-armored pony. “What’s his name?”

“Newt Glint. He was a common thief. Stole jewels and such.”

“I see.” I leaned in close, looking at the corpse carefully. I saw something stick out, and picked it up gently. It was a blue spine.

“There!” Bullock said. “That’s the damning evidence we found. It points to that blue hedgehog feller.”

“It certainly is a blue quill of a blue hedgehog, I’ll grant you that.” I stepped over, inspecting the other side. “But I’m not looking for coincidence. I’m looking for evidence.”

“What do you mean? It’s not evidence?”

“Precisely. So you found a few blue quills on him. I found a few foreign hairs on you before. Does that mean you were busy killing your cadets?” He gulped, nodding at my point.

I checked the spot where Newt had been killed. It was a large wound, in the shape of a triangle. “So he was rammed in from something sharp. Like a pike, or…” I blinked. “Or a spear.”

I glanced up at Bullock. “When did they die?”

“Newt died a few minutes before the guards did.”

I nodded. “Meaning, that the killer did not have time to change weapons after his first kill.” I rotated Newt’s head, seeing a faint bruise on his face. “He had also punched Newt, perhaps knocking out.”

“‘He?’” a reporter questioned.

“I’ve seen my fair share of fist marks before. Males are generally larger than females.” I pointed to the bruise. “You’ll see that it’s more flat than indented, meaning Newt here was hit by someone with flat knuckles. Statistically, males have flatter knuckles than women.”

I moved back to the wound, inspecting it. I leaned down, breathing in slightly. I fought down the urge to throw up. The flesh had been burnt, obviously stabbed with something hot. It had to be hot enough to melt the skin, judging by how stretched the fibers had become.

“There,” I said, pointing. “The murder weapon was some sort of spear, and it was also something hot enough to char the flesh.” I stood and quickly walked over to the other corpses, seeing that they had similar wounds. “However, the weapon was not a traditional spear, as the wounds do not fully go through the body. In fact,” I added, shifting one of the guard’s bodies around to make the wound face up, “I think the spear grew wider at the end.”

“What makes you say that?” Bullock asked.

“The outside of the wound is slightly larger than the inside. Taking into account that the weapon was not traditional and was probably more or less the head of a spear, then all this points to a shorter, wider, individual spearhead. Not to mention, it would be hot enough to burn flesh.”

“So if it’s short and hot enough to burn, why didn’t the murderer get hurt by it as well?” Bullock asked.

I grinned at him. “Good. You’re asking the really good questions now.” I rubbed my chin. “That puzzles me as well. Anything that small and hot would have burned the user either way. Unless…” I closed my eyes as I thought.

“Unless?” he prompted.

“… Unless the weapon was not heated.”

“That’s absurd! You can’t char flesh without having a heated weapon!”

“Allow me to explain. The weapon could have been constructed out of pure energy. Energy isn’t necessarily hot. The user can change how the energy is used, and therefore how they experience the energy.”

“What kind of energy are you speaking of?”

I frowned, murmuring, “It can’t be. Can it? Maybe…”

I placed a hand over Newt’s body, closing my eyes. I felt around for a certain remnant of energy.

…There!

“Oh no…” I murmured, opening my eyes. “That is not good.”

“What is it? What’s not good?” Bullock asked me desperately.

I ignored him, too focused on what I had found. Why’d he do it? This isn’t like him at all…

I ran around the body, looking into the building where it was found. All I could see inside were stolen jewels; nothing that would warrant murder. And yet… and yet…

“What did the witnesses see after the crime?” I asked.

“Er… they said that the creature vanished in thin air,” one of the cadets said. I nodded, but said nothing. He teleported...

“Hey, kid!” Bullock cried. “Don’t leave us hanging!”

“Hanging…” I mumbled, walking back over to the scene. “That’s what they’re going to do, aren’t they? They’ll hang him for something he didn’t do.”

“Kid? Are you talking about the suspect? They won’t hang him immediately,” he tried to reassure me.

I nodded. “That means there’s still time.”

I began walking away, but before I could leave, Bullock asked one last time: “How were we wrong?”

I faced him. I didn’t want to reveal who I had concluded was the real murderer, as I myself was still in disbelief. Still though, I couldn’t leave them uncertain of my analysis.

“Here is my conclusion,” I stated. “The murderer used an energy-amplified weapon of some sort to kill Newt. He used the same weapon for the guards, as he did not have time to change the weapon. The weapon was short and not a conventional weapon. The marks on the bodies, the same shape of the wound, and the same charring of flesh reveal that. After he killed them, he teleported away. And, I’m fairly certain that spines don’t burn flesh away like this weapon did.”

Tails had come to the same conclusion as I did. We shared a sad, but knowing look.

“Sergeant Bullock,” I continued, “you have arrested the wrong person. The real killer is still out there. The hedgehog you arrested is unable to use such weapons. Only a select few are able to generate such tools.”

“Sir? Could we have your name? And what are you going to do now?” one of the reporters asked as I began walking away.

I looked at Tails and Fluttershy, nodding to them. I faced the reporter who asked me the question. “My name is Jared Berberabe. I am going to rescue the suspect from his wrongful apprehension.” I glanced back at Bullock. “You know what to do.”

“Do you at least know who the true culprit is?” another reporter pony asked.

I sighed sadly. “Yes.”

“Who is he?”

“… be on the lookout for a black hedgehog, Sergeant. He’s your culprit. Alert the royal guard when this is over. And if you find him,” I added, looking back at the Sergeant with sadness in my eyes, “tell him… a friend wants to talk.”

I looked back at Tails and Fluttershy. “Let’s go.”

I pulled out the Grapnel Gun out of my jacket, the crowd gasping when they saw it. I pointed it up, and pulled the trigger, hearing the hook catch something. With another button press, I zoomed upwards, vanishing above the rooftops. Tails and Fluttershy flew after me, leaving the press and officers with shock looks on their faces.

***

“Just… who was that?” a cadet asked.

“You heard him,” Bullock grunted. “He’s Jared Berberabe. And… I think he’s an ally.”

Already the press were flipping their notepads and scribbling down notes about a mysterious bipedal creature who had singlehandedly shown up the city’s best cops. A few glanced to the sky, where Jared had vanished, wondering who he was.