A slender young mare with a coat pink in color and a mane of dark purple trotted contentedly down Canterlot Lane. The unicorn pony had a smile on her lips and a satisfied glow in her eyes as she moved; she had just finished one of her most magnificent pieces she'd ever composed live in front of one of the largest crowd of Canterlot nobles she'd ever seen.
The best part about it? They had loved every second, and even gave her a standing ovation at the conclusion. The mere memory sent pleasurable chills down her spine, making her tail whip out involuntarily as the feeling rippled like a tide through her.
She took an absent minded look back at her cutie mark, which was a violin cross-threaded neatly through a leaning quaver note. The sight of it made her smile all the wider as she thought just how lucky she was that the violin was her special talent; and instrument she'd loved to play since fillyhood.
Her smile faltered a bit as her peripheral vision caught sight of something rapidly moving through the shadows of the darkened street. She whipped her head up and scanned over the area with her gold colored eyes, now full of a small bit of surprise rather than happiness.
Her search yielded nothing but a nearby tree branch from one of the many trees that lined Canterlot Lane swaying in the breeze. Somepony would need to trim that, she thought randomly to herself.
As she shrugged and turned to continue trotting, she stopped before she'd even made more than one hoofstep again.
Her ears flicked a bit and she thought she heard...whispering.
"Must just be..the..uh...the wind or..something.." the now on edge young mare tried to reason. "That's it...the wind..."
Slower this time, she took up her cantering once more; her ears never pointing away from behind her head as they listened intently for something, anything out of the ordinary. She'd heard stories of what happened to poor ponies after dark in certain parts of town, but she never thought anything like that could happen to her. What were the chances? She was just being silly thinking somepony might be watching her. Right?
She trotted a little further, trying to keep her mind off of thins like that, but she stiffened again as she heard the unmistakable sound of movement behind her.
She whirled around, completely terrified now, and tried to scream when she finally saw what had made the noise; what was now coming right at her full boar. The scream never came...
* * *
Royal guards lined the section of Canterlot Lane near the theatre the next morning, standing in tight formation around the entrance to an alley not even a few yards from the theatre entrance, packed away tightly between it and the adjacent multi-level shop. Curious ponies trotted by, trying to get a good look behind the tall and burly white stallions and see what was happening. Each time, the rubberneckers were promptly shooed away and told it was official government business that was not fit for public viewing. Of course, this only made ponies want to see it more, however, none were brave/crazy enough to argue or try to fight past royal guards to get a look at what was more than likely a crime scene.
A crime scene it was, though; several detective ponies, some wearing traditional overcoats of the days of noir, were examining the area and the ripped up body at it's epicenter. The torn pink flesh was heavily marred with the dark red, almost black blood that was now covering a large area of the thin alleyway. The poor unicorn mare's once brilliant gold eyes now dulled by the lack of life inside her stared blankly into nothingness; the faint echoes of her final emotion trapped inside them. The faint echoes of pure terror.
One of the pony detectives; a cream colored mare with a dual colored mane and tail of pink and dark blue, examined the body itself. Actually, the body was not what concerned her. It was obvious what the mare had died of. Nopony she knew could possibly survive such physical trauma and blood loss.
No, the body itself was moot to the detective. What the pony in the summer shades was really examining were the wounds themselves. What had caused them? She had a few hunches, but hunches were nothing to go on in the criminal justice system. Although, in the back of her mind, she almost knew this was beyond a mere 'criminal.'
She took a few photos for the evidence folder, but then, pulling out her cellular device from her dark gray coat pocket, she snapped a few more from different angles just as she had with the evidence camera. Once she was done, she attached the photos to a text message (which she still found very hard to do with nothing but hooves to use; these damn things had been meant for unicorns, not earth ponies) and sent them off to her contact.
Normally, this would've been a gigantic taboo in the job she had. But this was a special case. She wasn't sending them just for the Tartarus of it, and especially not for some 'Hey, look at this manure!' stuff.
No, this contact was allowed to see these photos, but due to the pony in questions nature, she couldn't be seen by the public when she was on the clock, ergo, the mare sending the photos to her.
"Alright, Lyra," the detective mare mumbled to herself, her thick Buckston accent very evident. "let's see what you make of this."
* * *
Lyra groggily opened her eyes as the noisy vibrations of her cell phone rattled the workbench she rested on. At first she wondered who the buck could be calling her at this hour, but then she took a glance at the clock above her work station, and noticed it as already half-past eleven in the morning.
"Almost lunchtime already..?" She mumbled, stretching out in a similar fashion to a feline in her chair; her left foreleg extending out in front of her. "But I didn't even get to have my bowl of 'Hay-Bunches-and-Oats.'"
Using her magic, she enveloped the phone in a field of yellow magic and brought it up to her face. The fact it had only vibrated once must've meant it was a text, and sure enough, the little notification bar on the screen showed a tiny envelope signifying such a thing.
As she used her magic to tap the symbol, the contact popped up and was the first thing to meet her still sleep filled eyes.
"Ah, it's from Bon Bon." She smirked; her 'I-just woke-up-and-need-some-fun' feeling not yet having passed. "Are we gonna have some playtime later?"
She opened the message itself, and instantly her smirk fell into a disappointed grunt.
"Nope." She groaned. "Just business..."
Her eyes scanned over the morbid photos, and her analytical side began to take over. She eyed the wounds that Bon Bon had photographed, and tried to think of all the ways tears and gashes like that could be made. She let her mind continue to think on that as she put the phone down, and turned her attentions to her unmoving right limb on the work bench.
The framework was still unfinished and rusty, as she had fallen asleep before she could give it a good cleaning, but the gears and cogs were all oiled and the engine had been fine tuned and shouldn't have anymore stalls for a few weeks at least, depending on how much gore was gonna get stuck in the damn thing in the coming days.
Lyra attached the nub where her natural right leg should have been to the socket on the end of the mechanical arm. She breathed in deeply and shut her eyes as she flipped a switch on the section. It activated with a loud click and Lyra gave out a shout of pain, throwing her head back, and slowly brought it back as her shout faded into a quiet giggle; her eyes rolling up slightly at the sensation of the nerves connecting to wire.
After she'd calmed back down, she grasped the ripcord in her magical grip, and tugged at it, making the engine inside the metal machine roar to life. After it's initial start up, it's loud revving quieted into a chugging-like idle, tiny trails of exhaust being pushed out of the three exhaust pipes on the side facing away from her.
She smiled and lifted the once heavy, but now accustomed machine limb. The five fingered hand at the end of it clasped noisily and clankily into a fist as he brought her arm down to stand on it.
"Time to go to work." She said, turning to trot out of her dark and dimly lit workshop.
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THEME SONG TIME! Yes I picked a theme song for this ongoing project!
Youtube Video
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Luna sipped on her tea as regally as one could sip liquid, and placed the cup back down on it's dark blue saucer gently right after, giving the mint colored unicorn with the noisy right fore-limb across the table from her a look.
"Art thou positive that that is what killed the unfortunate mare I received the report about this evening?" She asked, not quite convinced of Lyra's famed 'detective skills.'
"Positive, Princess." Lyra assured casually as she took a bite of one of the delicate scones before her, using her idling right arm to pick it up instead of her magic. "Those wounds looked like they'd been made by an animal, but no normal animal just attacks ponies on sight, unless they're Timberwolves, without provocation. And since Timberwolves are only found in the Everfree Forest miles from Canterlot, it's pretty easy to figure out that they aren't responsible."
"But what thou art suggesting doth not make much sense in comparison." The princess of the night rebuttled. "Those creatures, contrary to popular belief and speculation, do not even hunt during the hours of the night. And furthermore, most of them would never hunt other ponies, especially just for slaughter and not for sustenance."
"The keyword there is 'most', Princess." Lyra started to explain. "Like other ponies, they too have bad apples amongst the bunch. Who's to say one of them isn't a sadistic psychopath who likes to tear ponies apart for sport? Or maybe insanity, yes, that could also be another explanation."
Luna sighed. "I am just trying to assure myself, Miss Heartstrings. I have a tenuous relationship with them as it stands, and if thou art mistaken, and we should dispose of one of their kind, I doubt they will be very forgiving of us."
Lyra readjusted herself in the strange way that she sat on everything horizontal before speaking.
"I understand that, but trust me; I've been around the block for awhile, and I know werepony attacks when I see them."
* * *
"Mr. Rich," Bon Bon said to the brown coated stallion. "you were there on the night of Miss Drawn Bow's murder at the theatre watching her perform, correct?"
"Uh, yes, that is correct, ma'am."
Filthy Rich sat across from Bon Bon in a small room at the Canterlot Investigative Agency's headquarters. The room was not too intimidating in and of itself, what with it having tan painted walls and finished oak wood being used as the rather large baseboards around it, not to mention the flowers that seemed to be decorating every corner of it. The reason Filthy Rich was sweating was because he had never been asked to come and be questioned about something as obscene as murder. He was no killer,and he was positive that Bon Bon knew this, but whether it be nerves or just tension, he couldn't help but be nervous.
"During the performance, did you see anything...out of the ordinary or suspicious? Y'know, somepony or something being where they shouldn't or acting strange?"
"Well, uh, not that I can recall..."
"How well id you know Miss Bow, Mr. Rich?" The cream colored earth pony asked, inwardly sighing at the lack of info she'd dredged up so far.
Filthy Rich tugged at his collar as he answered. "I, well, uh, I wasn't..exactly close friends with her, but I...uh...knew her...well enough..?"
"Exactly how well is 'well enough?'"
Filthy started to sweat again. "Um...is it getting hot in here?"
"Please answer the question."
"Right, uh.."
The stallion known for his wealth looked like a young colt caught in the act of something he knew he shouldn't do but was doing anyway. Bon Bon had a feeling she knew where this was headed, and shook her head in disgust.
"Mr. Rich," she interjected. "did you sexually consort with Miss Bow?"
"I--! That--! You can't ask me that!" Filthy stammered. "That's..that's private information...!"
She hadn't heard a no; what an unfaithful beast. This snob had a wife and child and was still going out and getting his happy stick milked with other mares. And ponies wondered why she preferred mares over stallions.
Rubbing her temples with her hooves, she continued. "Do you know if Miss Bow had any enemies, Mr. Rich? Anyone who might be upset with her or jealous of her?"
The wealthy pony pondered for a moment, all traces of anger gone after being questioned again. After a tense moment, he seemed to remember something.
"During one of my..er...'interviews' with Miss Bow, she had gone to answer the door after somepony had knocked on it. When she did so, I heard some arguing, though I couldn't make it out. So I went over to see who had come to disturb my luscious, little....er...I mean..that is to say..um.."
"Just continue..."
"Uh, yes..." Filthy coughed. "I ventured to find out who was disturbing her, and as I peeked around the corner, I thought I caught sight of Miss Octavia Melody..."
Bon Bon's eyebrow raised slightly. "The famous Canterlot Cellist?"
"Yes, that's her." Filthy confirmed. "She must have caught sight of me somehow though, because once I was in the area, she seemed to..well, she looked like she smelled something, and then said one last thing to Bowy...I mean, Miss Bow...!"
"What was this last thing she said?"
Filthy looked down and back at Bon Bon as he repeated what he'd heard the earth pony cellist say. "She said, 'just watch your back afterwards...'"
* * *
"Octavia, eh?" Lyra repeated. "Now that I didn't see coming."
"Neither did I, to be honest." Bon Bon said, looking over her case notes on the coffee table in front of the two mares.
They sat in their living room; a large, white walled room with a chandelier made of gold and crystal hanging above the center. The red plush carpet contrasted beautifully with the burgundy furniture the mares rested upon, and the black glass table the case file was strewn out across.
"She's always such an uptight pony. The unicorn continued, tweaking a few things on her still running arm. She experimentally moved the fingers all about. "Who would've thought such a refined and reserved gal could be a vicious and blood thirsty werepony."
She emphasized the last sentence with what she considered a comedic growl. Bon Bon was not nearly as amused.
"Lyra, if Octavia really is the werepony that you think killed Drawn Bow last night, this could be very problematic."
"How so?"
The earth pony stood up to begin her list of reasons. "For one thing, she's one of the most famous Canterlot musicians in all of Equestria. If we dispose of her, ponies are going to notice her absence."
Lyra hadn't thought about that. It was true, though; Octavia no being around anymore would just raise suspicion and controversy as to why the famous cellist had up and vanished.
"Secondly," Bon Bon continued. "and this is backtracking a bit, but we have no actual solid proof that it's her."
The mint colored unicorn looked away from her mechanical limb for a moment. "But you said that Filthy Rich saw her sniff the air when he peeked on her conversation with Drawn Bow and knew he was there, and from what you said, doesn't sound like they were very buddy buddy, so she must have some reason to not like her."
"But what would that motive be? We know little to nothing about Octavia's private life, or whether she meant her statement as a threat...or a warning..."
"Bon Bon," Lyra groaned. "why do you always have to make things so complicated?"
"I'm not the one that makes them that way." She replied. "You simplify them too much. Nothing is ever black and white in our line of work, and you should know that by now."
Lyra looked back down at her idling machine arm as it rested in her lap; the heat it was giving off warming her up in the chilly room. Her mind racing back to memories past; to her screams of agony...his twisted laughter...the reason for it all...
"Sometimes..." She mused. "things really are just black and white..."
Bon Bon blinked and her ears drooped a little, knowing she'd struck a bit of a nerve with her turn of phrase. She went to sit next to her marefriend and put a foreleg around her. She still had no idea how Lyra could sit in this upright position so comfortably, but she grinned and took it as she tried to comfort her closest friend.
"I'm sorry." She said, rubbing a hoof up and down Lyra's back soothingly. "You know I never meant it like that..."
"I know." Lyra said, grinning as best she could as the memories faded back into the rear of her mind. "So...if you aren't totally sure it's Octavia, than how do we make you sure?"
"We do it the old fashioned way."
"What? Just walking up and asking her: 'Hey, Octavia! We heard you were a psychotic werepony! This true?'"
Bon Bon playfully smacked the back of Lyra's head, and she let out a chuckle filled grunt. "No, dummy. We find out when she'll be at the theatre next, and we have ourselves an old fashioned stake out."
Octavia watched from the side of the stage with the other musicians as the mare out in the spotlight finished her piece on her piano. It had been quite an amazing composition. The crowd had absolutely loved it and many of the normally pretentious and snob nobles were on their hooves.
The light brown mare with the piano keys on her flank took a bow and used her unicorn magic to grab a microphone; it seemed she had something to say.
"Thank you ever so much everypony!" She started sincerely. "I appreciate the ovation very much! I just wanted to add that this song was written in memory of Drawn Bow; a dear friend of mine who met a tragic end a few nights ago."
At the mention of Drawn Bow's name, Octavia suddenly perked her ears, and started scanning the crowd to see their reactions. Most were sad smiles or somber looks, and nothing seemed out of the oridnary.
"Lovely piece of music, wouldn't you agree, Miss Melody?" A male voice interrupted her train of thought.
She turned around and her lavender eyes rested on the familiar form of Hoity Toity. The dark gray stallion with the silly looking powder wig and purple shades was standing behind her; his gaze locked on the mare on the stage with some form of, what Octavia presumed, admiration and yet, a form of pity as well.
"Indeed, I do agree, Mr. Toity." She replied.
"Simply marvelous keystrokes. And the bridge near the end of the song.." he made as if he was swooning. "It's just so moving."
Octavia turned her head back to the crowd and began her scan anew as the mare continued her speech. Unfortunately, Hoity Toity's voice once again snapped her out of the zone.
"Why I'd even say this is her Magnum Opis!" He gushed. "It will make a fine review in my next article!"
The earth pony cellist inhaled and put on as pleasing of a smile as she could muster before turning towards the annoying pony still staring at the performer.
"Mr. Toity," she said with an effort of pleasantry. "I understand you have changed your reviewing tastes from fashion to musical arts, but perhaps you could wait until the performer in question has left the stage?"
It was the nicest way of saying 'shut the buck up' she could think of.
Hoity made a small, creepy feminine giggle. "Oh, my apologies Miss Melody. But it looks like that time has come."
Octavia's ears shot up, and her eyes widened as she whirled around to see everypony filing out of the massive theatre, and the mare pianist coming backstage once more.
Frantically, she began looking around at the remaining ponies, trying to find any kind of suspicious activity, or at least the familiar--
"I say, Miss Melody," Hoity exclaimed in a put off tone. "are you...sniffing the air for something?"
The cellist drew back, realizing she had been leaning in a rather awkward position with her snout in the air. Regaining her composure, she realized it was too late now; surely the one she was looking for had already left the building by now.
She growled rather animalistically and trotted off, shouldering her way past Hoity. The reviewer merely watched her leave with a small smirk on his face. He then returned his attentions to the returning mare pianist.
"Ah, Miss Key Stroke!" He gushed again. "What a lovely performance! May I have a word?"
* * *
Bon Bon waited atop a building nearby as the crowd exited the theatre and began to spread apart. First the audience had left, and then the staff of the theatre, minus the janitorial ponies. After a while, some of the musicians began to take leave. Bon Bon found it a little strange that the musicians, who were said to be some of the most tightly knit communities in all of Canterlot, would leave in such scattered droves. She silently noted to herself that they were not too bright for not starting to leave in large groups after the recent killing. Perhaps they thought it was just a one-off, and very well it could've been. But it was still pretty stupid to just assume so.
Any one of them could be the next victim.
As the hours went on, Bon Bon became increasingly nervous; had she missed Octavia leaving? Perhaps with another pony? If so, that meant she'd have to try another night to catch the supposed werepony in the act of murder. As she was about to call it a night, she spotted something out of her peripherals; a brown unicorn mare with piano keys for a cutie mark exited the theatre. She had been the final performer for the set tonight, and must have been held up at an interview or something.
Then, several paces behind her, Bon Bon noticed the theatre door begin to open once more. Was it Octavia?
"So it's you, then." Came a growling, dark voice from behind the detective.
With her fur standing on edge, the cream colored earth pony whirled around just in time to see a massive, hair covered mass leap at her wit gnashing jaws.
She had no time to scream, and dropped herself to the concrete surface of the roof, the growling giant flying over her and seemingly off the building.
Bon Bon stood slowly, her pistol drawn and hoof resting on the trigger; specially designed for earth pony's hooves. She hesitantly peered over the edge where she'd seen the beast fall, and had to throw herself back as fast as she could, feeling one of it's claws graze her neck, drawing a small trickle of blood.
The monster had been hanging on the side of the structure with it's powerful...what had Lyra called them? Fingers? With it's powerful fingers dug into the brick itself.
It landed back on the roof heavily, making a deep thump sound as it did, and it whirled back, crouching down like a timberwolf ready to pounce.
Bon Bon got back to her hooves and pointed her pistol the creature's direction, but before she fired off a shot, the beast grabbed her by her face and tossed her backwards over it's head. She hit several clotheslines, the weight and velocity ripping the polls out of the floor and causing the wire to cut rather large gashes in Bon Bon's flesh before she hit the ground again.
She was tangled up in clothes and bloody wire, unable to get back to her hooves. She glared at the incoming monster as it slowly stalked over to her.
"So..." She grunted, trying to buy some time as she managed to get her hoof into the pocket of her brown coat for something. "there really is a werepony here in Canterlot eh?"
"Indeed." The werepony confirmed, not stopping it's slow approach. "It figures you'd know about me, considering what you've been doing all over Equestria..."
This raised Bon Bon's ears in a questioning gesture. "What I've been doing..? What do you..?"
"Don't play dumb. There's no point anymore." The beast snarled, closing in. "You've been sitting atop this roof watching the ponies come out of that theatre for awhile. I bet you were hoping to get your fix again, weren't you? And then blame it on--"
"Hold on just a minute!" Bon Bon yelled. "What the hay are you talking about?"
The werepony snarled andstood on it's hind legs menacingly; in the moonlight, se could see the gray color of it's fur, and the lavender glow of it's eyes as it raised one of it's forelegs to swipe at it's prey.
"It doesn't matter if you confess or not; you're done for." The massive beast started to bring down it's powerful paw. "You won't be hurting anypony ever again! Now die!"
"Wait!" Bon Bon shouted.
Suddenly, a mint colored blur flew past Bon Bon and straight into the werepony midstrike; the familiar sound of a revving engine accompanying it. The startled monster was caught by the powerful lariat across it's chest and was thrown back several feet, tumbling before regaining composure; using it's razor sharp claws to halt it's backwards momentum.
Lyra stood there, mechanical arm and magical horn both ready for a fight before Bon Bon's trapped form.
"Sorry I took so long, 'Bonnie-dearest.' I had to stop for gas."
