Those Thirty Days

Chapters

Chapter 1: Taking the Case
Chapter 2: Commencing Investigations
Chapter 3: Looking Deeper
Chapter 4: Fillydelphia Research Institute
Chapter 5: A Mind in Turmoil
Chapter 6: A Miscalculated Risk
Chapter 7: A Compass in the Desert
Chapter 8: Heists on the Sands
Chapter 10: Shimmering Coasts
Chapter 11: A Train for One
Chapter 12: A Challenge for a Few
Chapter 13: A Trial for All
Chapter 14: The Final Tape
Chapter 15: Meeting Face to Face
Epilogue: Case Closed
A Mile in My Shoes Part Two
A Mile in My Shoes Part Three
A Mile in My Shoes Part Four
A Mile in My Shoes Part Five
A Mile in My Shoes Part Six
Prologue: Opening Notes
Chapter 9: Concerning Stymphalians
A Mile in My Shoes Part One

Chapter 1: Taking the Case

Keen Eye sighed as she swiveled back and forth on her office chair, the occasional squeak alongside the gentle pitter-patter of rain on her windows constituting the only sounds in the room. It had slowly become more and more apparent to Keen that setting up her office for investigating matters of intrigue or criminal activity in this sector of Equestria was a rather big mistake if she wanted any chance at keeping her door open. She looked out of the only window whose curtains were draw back, watching as the small cascades of water rolled down the glass with the bright oranges and deep reds of the setting sun behind it splashed the entire room in its beautiful colors. It had been a slow day, something, though now a easily understandable common occurrence, she didn't appreciate at all. She gave a lazy glance over her shoulder towards her wall clock for what seemed the hundredth time that day. She'd give it five more minutes, then she'd lock up and head home. Sure, that would be closing early, but if anypony needed her help, they'd get here soon enough o they'd go to her apartment. She sighed once more, leaning further back into her chair, the plush material giving a bit under her weight, though still providing enough support that it was nice. She had never been in the clouds, but she had a good idea that this might be what they felt like to pegasi or any other pony with a cloud walking spell.

She was suddenly ripped from her idle wondering when she heard her door open. She looked over expectantly, only to see the janitor walk in with a mop bucket dangling from a metal handle, which he held in his teeth. The pony gave Keen a quick nod before letting down his bucket and taking out a feather duster, quickly swiping over the shelves and desk.

"Don't suppose who need anything?" Keen asked hopefully, though her voice gave nothing away. The janitor lifted his head from the desk, his feather duster still clenched between his teeth. He put his right fore hoof to his chin, tapping it a few times in thought before lowering it once more and shaking his head before putting his duster away, taking out his small broom, getting back to his work without hesitation. Keen gave an exasperated sigh as she fell back into her chair. "Isn't there anypony who has some sort of mystery that needs solving? One point fifty-six million ponies and other mixed species and there isn't a single point of intrigue?" The janitor pony shrugged as he laid down his dustpan and carefully swept the dust into it before tossing the dirt into the bag strapped to his bags. Keen flung her head back once more, scanning her eyes over the plain white ceiling. "You'd think that somepony would have something they'd like help with figuring out. Watching somepony else out of worry or suspicion, trying to find out if their neighbor really did steal their cat, anything really. There has to be something!" She shouted angrily as she smacked her chair with a hoof.

The janitor gave a brief grunt before the sound of a wet mop slapping against the floor told Keen that he was almost done with his work. Soon enough he'd leave, then she'd pack up her things and head off to home. She'd take a long, calming, hot bath while listening to some good music. She might even stop by the dry cleaner's and see if Gin and the gang were playing a round. She had the evening to herself, with no reason to spend it only anything but what she wanted to do. But even as she pondered what she'd do with her evening, another pony walked in with a package balanced on her wings.

"Ah gots a package fer Miss Keen Eye." The mail mare stated in a thick accent. Keen Eye motioned to her desk, which quickly found itself bearing the heavy weight of the rather interesting package. "Sign 'ere please." The mare continued presenting a small clipboard with a paper clipped to it that contained odds and ends about the delivery. Keen quickly took a pen between her lips from her cup of writing utensils, giving a quick signature. Keen placed the pen back into its place along with its brethren. She looked back to the package, then to the mail mare, who was now leaving the office.

"Any ideas about what it is?" Keen Eye asked curiously. The mail mare gave a shrug.

"Company policy is tuh not snoop in tuh other ponehs things. The forum says that it includes some 'lectronic stuffs, among other things." The mail mare replied. "Ah mean, fer all Ah know, it's a TV, then again it could be a large assortment of toasters. Honestly, it's anypony's guess." The mail mare then shut the door and was down the hall in no time. The janitor pony quickly followed, stowing his mop back in its side compartment in the bucket before lifting it and moving on to the next office.

Keen Eye opened her desk's center draw, taking out her letter opener in her teeth. She quickly ran it down the seem between the two leaves of cardboard joined only by tape. Putting down her knife, she pulled one of the flaps back, looking at the pile of packing peanuts that covered whatever had been sent to her. She brought her waste basket over, shoving piles of the foam pellets into the metal basket. Soon enough she found the contents of the box proper, which were another smaller cardboard box, an overflowing plastic file holder, and a plastic container. Keen Eye quickly took out the objects, setting them on the desk before her, quickly feeling around the box once more, finding nothing but a note taped to the cardboard flap that she hadn't folded back.

"Well, this is interesting." Keen mumbled to herself before taking her letter opener out again and removing the letter from its place, placing it on her desk as she once again put her letter opener back into her desk. Looking at the note, she began to read over the few words in had scrawled over its surface. "Hello, Detective, this package contains objects of interest relating to a curious incident that occurred not to long ago." She read aloud. "I know that once you begin looking into the matter, that you will agree. The contents of the boxes are as follows: a brand new tape player, thirty tapes containing twenty-four hour recordings, thirty tapes containing select times from the previous tapes, and all files and notes pertinent to your investigation in this matter. I must insist you listen to the tapes in order, since the last tape has a spell attached to it which will alert me to when you listen to it. At the moment, I cannot divulge what exactly I'm having you look into, but once you begin, I do believe you will understand exactly what the reason is that I have sent you all of this. I wish you the best of luck. Signed 'Client'." Keen looked at the note with even more questions than before.

Keen set the note down, looking over the objects. She quickly opened the first box, pulling out a rather high quality tape player. She had seen it in several magazines with the words 'NEW!' and 'BEST SOUND FOR YOUR BITS!' and other pieces of advertising. She had considered buying one, since most of her records were starting to warp, and her phonograph wasn't in the best of shape either; maybe she'd be able to keep it after the case was done with. She looked over to the other box, clicking the simple plastic locks up, finding that it was a multi-shelf system. Pulling one out, she found two tapes, one much larger than the other, both labeled with the number '19'. Keen felt a small urge to pop the tape into the player, but eventually just slid the shelf back in, pulling the top most shelf out in its stead, revealing two tapes that looked almost identical to the others except for the number being a '1'. She took the smaller of the two out, looking for any other marking, but there was absolutely nothing she could see that might set it off from other tapes besides the number written on it. Keen turned her attention to the tape player, quickly removing the packaging. The black plastic had a nice finish, allowing her to see her reflection quite clearly in it.

She pressed the release button, and was quickly met with a satisfying click as the player popped its lid up, revealing the inner workings of the machine. Quickly pressing the button for normal tapes, two spokes popped up in the correct position for the tape that lay out of the case. Keen, feeling a bit of curiosity, pressed the other button. The supply and take up reals went back, flush with the rest of the system, only to be replaced by two others that were slightly thicker and further apart, perfectly suited for the large tape that was still in the draw. Pressing the button for regular tapes again, she placed the first tape inside of it, shutting the lid. She turned to the folder finally, taking the top most folder out. It was a regular looking manila folder for the most part, except for the big, black, block letters on the top that read 'Project: Solitaire' that was partially covered by larger, red letters that proclaimed 'TOP SECRET', just Keen's type of folder. She opened the mysterious folder, looking at the first page.

'This file is property of Fillydelphia Research Institute. If you are not a part of the corporation, please return his all haste as the contents of this folder are of the sensitive nature. Failure to do so will result in your arrest, alongside a steep fine to your person.'

Keen smiled at the paper deviously, quickly turning it over to look at the first page. She'd been hired for a job, something she had had little experience with in recent days, but something she wasn't about let go. She would hit this one hard, even if she didn't know what her client wanted, she believed that the pony was right, and that in no time at all, she'd figure out what they wanted.

Chapter 2: Commencing Investigations

Following the impressive results and knowledge gained through project 'Ghost Town', the team has felt a renewed sense of purpose and energy, a welcome change from the atmosphere of pessimism and near desertion resulting from our continual stream of failed progress. The next test, dubbed project 'Solitaire' plays off of the same basic idea we tested in project 'Ghost Town', and to a smaller measure, project 'Illusions'. The subject will, however be subjected to slightly more extreme conditions. While as 'Ghost Town' replicated the test subjects home neighborhood in a state of vacancy, 'Solitaire' will place our subject in a confined chamber measuring ten by ten by five meters. The room is padded with standard issue insulating, cushioning pads, used primarily in mental institutions, though ours have been custom ordered to be colored white, instead of the standard pale yellow. The room is fitted with a sink and toilet, which are both operated by buttons, instead of levers, and are built into the wall, so as to minimize the possibility of self inflicted injury of the subject. The utensils are also painted white, so as to continue the sensory deprivation of the subject without the need of a constantly sustained spell field, which would not only be costly, but ineffective for our purposes. Another difference from 'Ghost Town', is that 'Solitaire' will not even allow animal interactions with the subject.

The test is designed specifically to ensure that the pony will have no contact with anypony outside the walls during his stay, much less be aware of the outside. Food will be delivered via teleportation; the unicorn selected for this task having been selected for the fact his magic is nearly a pure white, meaning that the residual magical spark the object will cast off will be invisible against the tiles, ensuring the subject will have to be extremely observant to even notice the signs of teleportation. As for medical security of the subject, he will be fitted with a sub-dermal injector of an extremely potent sedative, which will render him unconscious within three seconds with little warning to the subject, as wells as maintaining him in a state of unconsciousness for a minimal laps of time of three hours, to a maximum of seven hours, depending on the dosage used, allowing us to aid him in any way that he might require while also ensuring he doesn't notice any of us while we do so, ensuring the results of the test are untainted.

Keen lifted her gaze from the paper, staring out her window, not looking at anything particular. She was already beginning to form some opinions on what might be what her client wanted her to investigate. She had barely gotten through the first page and already there were several things that stuck out to her. Apparently the F.R.I was in to some rather messed up things, and that was just with her knowledge of the three projects mentioned in this paper. Ghost Town and Solitaire seemed to be cases of what might constitute mental assault or even illegal use of test subjects, depending on what the full story was. And then there was Illusions, whatever it was, though apparently it had dabbled slightly in isolation of subjects, which would more than likely psychologically scar anypony.

"Hey, Keen Eye," Keen suddenly shot her head up to look at her door at the unexpected visitor, "Just wanted to remind you that the building locks up in five minutes, so you might want to pack up any nonessential and take the rest home with you." Keen blinked a few times, looking over at her wall clocks, surprised to see how much time had passed already.

"R-right, I'll be packed up in a minute." Keen replied quickly, already putting the tape player into its box with a hoof. "Just getting ready to head out anyway." She finished with a smile. The pony nodded, closing the door as he left, his silhouette moving down the hall. Keen quickly put everything away into her saddlebags. She looked over to the window, seeing that the rain was still on going outside as the droplets smacked against the thin pane glass. Keen quickly slipped her bags on, trotting over to her coat rack, taking her yellow rain coat, throwing it on, making sure it went over her saddle bags before taking her wide brimmed hat her cousin had bought her during her vacation to Dodge Junction. Galloping down the hallway and then the stairwell, she soon reached the front door of the building. She gave a quick wave to the pony behind the desk, who returned the gesture. Keen pulled her hat down further , covering her eyes before charging out into the rain soaked streets of Fillydelphia. The street lamps flicker ominously in the nighttime storm, the streets seeming quite calm, much calmer than she could ever remember during her life in Fillydelphia. A few ponies galloped this way and that, and the few taxis that were on the street flew by so fast there would have been no chance of catching one. Keen, not being one to like to stand out in the middle of a street when it was raining, broke into a gallop towards her apartment building.

The sound of something hitting the mic came through the tape player's small speaker, which gave a surprisingly high quality representation of the sounds as the final knocks ended. The sound of mumbled speaking from beyond the microphone's range could be heard, along with the sound of rustling pages nearby.

"This is day one of project Solitaire. Test subject had been placed in cell, which has been sealed in accordance to previously listed protocol." A cool voice of a mare stated. "Subject is still unconscious, but should awaken at any moment. Recovery team is certain that the subject was unable to see who they were. We are hoping for some very promising results from this project, Celestia knows how many bits the company had to put into it for this whole thing to work. Anyway, end of morning researcher notes, switching to in room audio feed." A sharp clink echoed from the speaker, and just as the first signs of motions began to come from the machine, Keen pressed the pause button, looking back at the papers before her. A diagram of the cell was included, along with how the recording system had been hidden. The cell had the toilet set into the western wall, while the sink was actually built into the same system, the sink's operating system placed right next to the toilet's. Everything the researchers could've thought of to allow the pony inside normal functions without being able to go outside was in place. The cell made it impossible to receive or transmit signals unless through a direct connection, much as the internal audio feed had.

"These ponies aren't amateurs... they are..." Keen shook herself before she finished the thought. These ponies, above all else, were dangerous, and not just that, dangerous and SANE. Their methods were methodical, well organized, and above all else, devoid of any obvious flaw. Keen put the diagrams back in the folder, putting them back in her saddlebags before she walked into her bathroom. She set the player on the sink, with the folder beside it. Keen pressed the play button once more as she turned the faucet in her tub on, letting the warm water fill the porcelain receptacle. From the tape player, she could hear the sounds of motion, as the subject began moving about, only just awaking from his drugged slumber.

"W-what... where... ah, my head." The stallion began. Keen could hear the pain in his voice, more than likely an after effect of the drug that had been administered to him so that he could be taken to the facility with ease. The sounds of the pony pushing, then smacking the cushions could be heard as Keen shut off the faucet. "What's going on? H-hey, is anypony there? I'm trapped! P-please let me out, what's going on?" The subject continued to move around the cell, pushing against every wall, probably looking for a door. Unfortunately, Keen knew that the only access to the cell that could be opened was in the roof, a very good design choice in the interests of keeping this pony inside, unless of course this pony was a unicorn or pegasus, which, considering all the other precautions these researchers had taken, was highly unlikely. Suddenly, a click sounded from the tape player, and the sounds of the pony in the cell beating against the wall was replaced by another pony speaking clearly.

"Subject, as expected, was resistant to his new confinement, having beaten on the walls and yelled as loud as possible for several hours. The pony's state seemed to settle for a moment, but quickly returned to a frenzied state as food was teleported inside. The pony seemed to then realize what was happening, and began to call out, asking what we'd have of him, and offered us a substantial sum. All offers were met with silent, as per protocol, and the subject seems to have calmed down a substantial amount, or at least has tired himself out from his constant moving and shouting. Either way, this concludes night researcher notes as well as day one for project Solitaire." Another click sounded out as the recording ended. The player automatically began rewinding the tape until it finally reached the beginning of the tape, were it gave yet another click as the lid popped open. Keen thought about putting the next tape in, but decided instead to take her bath and then continue with the investigation after she had a few moments to organize her thoughts.

Stepping into the warm water that filled the tub, Keen gave a sigh or relief as she left herself sink almost the entire way into the water, leaving only her snout out of the relaxing water. It had been a stressful day, even for how dull it had been until a few hours ago, but now she was home and could continue any investigation plans in a setting of greater relaxation. Rising above the water, she took the bottle of conditioner and squeezed a bit of it into her right hoof before setting it down again and running her now soapy hoof through her wet mane. The pony who had been trapped in the cell, what he had gone through must've been beyond compare. Keen didn't even want to imagine being stuck in a room for how ever long that stallion had without any sign of outside life. She thought about not seeing any of the girls, her mother, even her brother, no matter how annoying he could be at times; she just couldn't think how she'd keep sane for all that time, then again, she didn't know if the pony in question had actually maintained his sanity. If he hadn't, that only raised the question who had brought the case to her. Maybe it had been one of the researchers breaking their NDA because of an incessant conscience, or maybe somepony related to the pony used as a subject who found out one way or another and now felt it better to give it to a more qualified pony so that they didn't make a mistake.

Keen rose from the tub, taking a towel from the nearby rack, making sure her mane and coat were at least mostly dry. Looking into the mirror at her brown coat and light ten mane, she began to tussle out the knots that had former in her mane as best she could, though not being an earth pony who couldn't levitate objects around certainly put a damper on her efficiency. After finishing with her brush, she returned to the living area with her things, quickly taking out the folders. She hadn't actually finished the first page of the document, having instead flipped quickly through all the papers for any sign of something interesting, or worthy of any note, which led her to the diagrams. Taking the first page back out of the mess, she set it on her coffee table and began to read where she had left off, but quickly discovered that she had basically read everything of interest. The rest was protocols in case of certain situations, methods which could be used to purchase items for the test without attracting too much attention, thing even she could probably do without too much trouble.

Setting the papers to the side she began to look over the rest of the folders contained in the plastic folder holder. She felt an urge to rip them all out and spread them across the table, but as the clock in the kitchen gave ten chimes, she felt it would be best to turn in for the night. She'd get back to her office in the morning with more to do than just read the paper. She'd have a more awake mind that would be, and much to her name's implication, keen to the details that otherwise might slip by. With a sigh, she placed the objects back into her saddle bags, picking them up in her teeth before moving to her room, setting them down beside her bed. As she went to turn off the lights, in the reflection of her photo that sat right beside it, she saw the form of a pony, looking at her from her window. Quickly turning to face the pony, she watched as the lasts traces of a tail flickered by the window. Rushing to the window, she threw it open, but saw no pony in the alleyway below. Keen gave a smirk as she shut her window, moving back to her bed. Already the case on its own merits had peaked her interest, but now things were different. Now, things were getting interesting.

Chapter 3: Looking Deeper

Keen closed the door to her office, quickly making her way to her desk, setting her bags beside her chair before sitting back in a huff. She took out the files and the tape player, setting them down on her desk, not bothering to actually use them as she caught her breath. She had woken up a tad late, and had almost missed the trolley, and so had to run after it halfway down the street. The day so far had been quite hectic, especially in the soaking rain that had carried on through the night. Keen ran a hoof through her mane with a sigh, quickly getting back to the work before her. Taking out the box of tapes, setting it down beside the tape player. She slid the folder holder to her taking out the next day's paper.

Project Status: Optimal

Subject Physical Status: Average

Subject Mental Status: Sub-Optimal

Researcher Notes: Subject seems to be slightly adjusted to their condition. It appears that this state is not one of acceptance, but of resignation, which, in the greater scheme things, is not a good sign. Information gathered from project 'Ghost Town' suggests that resignation has a greater chance of producing a psychological break, while as acceptance has a greater chance of preserving the pony as they were. Fighting against the circumstances is also a methods through which a pony may preserve themselves, though statistics show that it is a slimmer chance than acceptance, though still a possibility. The pony before this test had been judged to be a very solidly minded pony, not being one for flights of fancy. An earth pony who was truly down to earth in every sense of the word. This should provide us with a great deal of information as to how this experience will effect ever the most stalwart mind. Enter tape from day two for full notes.

Keen opened the tape case, pulling one of the door out, taking the small tape once again. Pushing the button on the tape player, she carefully placed the plastic box in its rightful place. She closed the lid, only to look back at the notes. Putting the file that contained the researcher's daily notes to one side, she pulled out another one of the files. The cover wasn't labeled, only serving to peek her interest more as she flipped the cover open. In it, notes and pictures were gathered together about one pony. The camera shots were in odd angles, giving her the impression that they were taken with the express purpose of not letting the pony know that he was being watched.

The pictures were all in black and white, so she couldn't tell what colors the pony was, but she could tell by several reference points, that the pony was of average height and build. Most of the pictures had him in a suit, giving the impression that wherever he worked, it was in formal conditions. Keen didn't recognize the small bits of the background she could she, so really, to her, the pony could live and work anywhere in the world that had a summer time, since there was no sign of snow on the ground. Keen looked through the papers in the folder, but they revealed even less, having the majority of their pages blacked out with marker. Keen set the file down, pressing the play button on the tape.

"Project Solitaire, day two. Breakfast has been sent to out subject, though the audio coming from the room suggests that he is still asleep." The same pony from the previous day began. "That may or may not be the best for this pony, though only time will tell. In an unrelated note,half the team was removed the project, since an investigation has been launched on Project Ghost Town by the feds. Only necessary staff ponies for this project that were part of Ghost Town are staying, including myself and five others. The others have been removed from all sensitive projects, with a memory blocking spell that will make it impossible for them to remember anything of either project. The investigation on Project Illusions was dropped almost as it started, which is a relief seeing as more than half of our remaining ponies on this team were involved in it, not to mention most of the engineer ponies who know how to preform maintenance on this blasted project. No matter, we will just have to be careful with this project. End of morning researcher notes, switching to in room audio feed." Again the click sounded, but instead of switching to the room, it switched immediately to the pony from the previous evening.

"Today was most uneventful, the pony merely wandering about in his cell, most likely trying to figure out a way to escape while maintaining silence, either that, or he's trying to figure out what he can do. We can only hope the stallion has enough of a brain to exercise and stretch his muscles. No pony here wants to help him recover from muscle atrophy. End of night researcher's notes and of day two of Project Solitaire."

Keen leaned back in her chair as the machine clicked and began to rewind the rather short tape. These ponies had already had been investigated for their other projects, and not only that, but by federal investigators, ponies far beyond her caliber. The pony had also mention a memory blocking spell, suggesting that by that time they were already used to being investigated by ponies who had gone through their experiments. The machine clicked opened as it finished rewinding, allowing Keen to remove the tape and place it back into the case, pushing the shelf back in. Her stomach growled, reminding her to check the time. She glanced up to the clock, which read eleven forty-nine. Keen stood up, intent on grabbing some pizza from the shop across the street before returning to the case, on to have her eye catch something moving away from her window. Keen rushed over, looking in every direction for any sign of the pony that was watching her, but found none.

Slowly walked away from her window, moving back to her desk. She slid one of the draws open, revealing her rotary phone which had sat quick neglected over the past few days. She picked up her headset, putting it on as she looked back towards the window, still being assaulted by the heavy rainstorm. She could call the pizza place, but that might come off a bit weird, seeing as she'd just be asking them to walk across the street, instead Keen decided to call another one of her favorites that was farther away, taking any suspicion as to why she was having delivery. She dialed the number as quickly as possible, checking the window again as she finished, but saw nothing but the water rolling down the pane of glass. The buzzing of the dialing tone continued for a few moment before the other end finally picked up.

"Hello, Healthy Heart's Sandwiches. We have Apple Family's Special for fifteen bits and the Gargle Busting Mega Shake for ten bits, how may I help you?" The pony on the other end asked over the clatter in the background. Keen took one last glance out of the window before turning to her desk for no reason.

"Yes, hello, do you still have the special on the Overboard Deep Fried Hayburger on rye?" Keen asked, taking a quick glance back to the window.

"Yep, it's still on special. What size are you hoping for?" The pony asked politely as the sound of the register on the other end could be heard. Keen though for a short moment, making her mind up as quickly as possible.

"Make it large. And make the drink a Cherry Jubilee's Sparkling Cherry Water." Keen replied, before taking out the main file on the project, flipping through the pages once more.

"Alright, That's one large Overboard Deep Fried Hayburger on rye with a Cherry Water, is that all ma'am?" The pony asked. Keen considered her options briefly, but again, she made up her mind quite quickly.

"Yes, that's all I'll be having."

"Alrighty, is that going to be pickup or delivery?" The pony asked as a few more key presses were audible over the phone.

"Delivery, my address is forty-seven fifty North Broad Street." Keen stated. "Keen Eye's Investigatory Services on the third floor." The other side was rather silent, besides the sounds of the kitchen beyond and the occasional loud key strike of the register.

"Very good, your order will be arriving in around ten minutes. The total of your purchase is twenty-nine bits, have a nice day." Keen Eye nodded, pressing the end call button as she removed her headset. She wasn't entirely in favor of the price, but it was better than the price she'd pay if she lost any of the materials for the investigation. Besides, these extra ten minutes she could stay in this room allowed her to continue looking over different things while if she had gone down to get pizza, she would've been unable to look at her materials.

Opening the subject's folder once more, she looked through some of the small sticky notes and pages that were farther back in the bunch. The pony was, except for what had happened to him, completely average. There were no special notes on him, all around giving the impression that the ponies that were doing this were doing it to him for that very reason, because he was average, with nothing overly special about him that would set him above the common pony. Setting that file down again, Keen took out the file holder and removed all of the folder from within. The folder containing the daily reports and other side notes about the project was the first she saw, which was to be expected since it had been on the top, she set the folder with the little information on the pony on top of it, concentrating more on the folders that she hadn't taken the time to look at before. One of them caught her eye, labeled 'Project: Illusions' while the one right beside it was labeled 'Investigation: F.R.I.', both of which were in stiff competition for her attention.

After reading through the first few pages of the files on 'Project: Illusions', a knock tore Keen from her reading. Keen set her work to the side and walked up to the door after taking her bits bag from her main desk draw. Opening the door, she found herself, much as she had expected, face to face with a Healthy Heart's Sandwiches delivery pony, wearing a clear raincoat over her uniform, the dry bag, not counting the grease stain on the bottom, containing Keen's food floating beside her.

"You ordered a large Overboard?" The pony asked, receiving a nod from Keen. "Well, here's you're order, that'll be twenty-nine bits, ma'am." Keen nodded once more, quickly counting out the amount from her coin pouch, handing thirty-five bits over to the rain-drenched pony.

"Keep the change, you deserve it for all this weather." Keen said before taking her bag in her mouth, moving back to her desk where she set it down before turning back to her door, where the pony stood, counting the coin as she placed them each in her pouch looped around her neck. For not the first time in her life, Keen found herself wishing that she could manipulate objects as easily as a unicorn, but she had learned that being an earth pony had it's own set of advantages. The pony soon finished, giving Keen a nod before moving away as Keen closed the door, turning back to her work, and now, her lunch.

Day Seventeen, the subject appears to suspect the truth of this experiment, but only after we dropped hints so hard that no pony could possibly miss them. We literally had to make the vendor do something that no pony would do without noticing, namely drink a can of oil like it was sarsaparilla. Three glitches the size of Manehatten later, the pony is now beginning to question the reality of her situation. The project up to this point proves one thing: When the world suddenly shifts, but nothing that can be considered extraordinary, ponies will attempt to rationalize the world, and attempt to live in the world they find themselves. We have started programming tactical errors in the droids programming, so as to provoke questions from the subject. These errors will last only through tomorrow and the next day. After that, we will remove all errors from their programming, so as to not completely break the illusion.

Day Eighteen, the subject is beginning to have serious doubts about her situation. We had a gang of droids corner her, acting as if they had been intending to all sorts of malicious acts to her, only to have them all go stock still and move away, as if they had been summoned by something. The pony appears to be growing more suspicious as the days go by, which I can't blame her for. Her meetings with our shrinks are yielding interesting results, as she professes that she feels as if not everypony is what they seem. The team has agreed, tomorrow we will strive to achieve a violent response from the subject.

Day Nineteen, the subject took the bait, and has lashed out at one of the droids. The synthetic covering was torn away, revealing the droids inner servos, circuitry, and mechanical parts. The other droids acted as instructed, mostly in shock, while police ponies attempted to apprehend the pony, only to have some of our pony come in and 'deactivated' the droid, though the dents in the side of the enclosed chariot prove they actually hadn't. The subject stood their watching in shock, much to our interest, since we had planned on her just galloping away. Her visit to the psychiatrist tomorrow will be most interesting.

Day Twenty, the subject, much as expected, reacted harshly to her morning visit to the doctor, where the pony told her that she must've imagined things. Her surprise quickly turned to horror as her lifted a tray of medical tools and launched it at the doctor, only to peal the synthetic cover from his side, to which he reacted without flinching, merely noting, in almost a comical manner, that his 'chassis' was now scratched. The subject galloped out of her appointment, going directly home to her coltfriend, or at least the synthetic version of that pony. She stayed in the same room, crying heavily for nearly ten minutes, before falling prey to exhaustion. Today was most interesting indeed, and we are all anticipating what will happen next. The results so far are very interesting, but the team is more than willing to take it up a notch.

Day Twenty-one, it has happened. The subject decided today she'd find out the truth, and so, armed with a broken glass, ran down the main street, slashing at everypony she found, attempting to figure out who was real or not. She found some of our ponies, but after two minutes of letting this go on, the police droids were activated and sent her to the ground with their electrical batons. She was locked up in our pseudo-jail, but was quickly released from her cell by her coltfriend, who attempted to comfort her. When she arrived at home, she decided to cut herself to ensure her own reality, and was met by blood, which somehow made her feel better. The team seems to be developing certain doubts, but none of us are willing to throw away what we have fostered in this experiment because we feel some sense of pity for the subject. Te subject was quickly tended to, though throughout the night, she removed the bandages to poke at her cuts occasionally, as if to make sure. The intent expressed yesterday by the team is still strong, and tomorrow, we will do our utmost to make her see something that is certain to make her questions a bit more pungent.

Keen looked up from the paper, taking another sip from her large, plastic mug of cherry water. At this point, she really couldn't say which was more despicable, Illusions or Solitaire. Sure, Solitaire removed the pony from society completely, without even knowing what is happening outside, but Illusions had stripped a pony from her home, placing her in a future version of the same, but with robot counterparts of each pony, with a few extras. Solitaire pushed a pony to the edge of sanity in solitude, while Illusions pushed the pony to the same point, but by slowly revealing the truth behind the world they had been placed in. Keen knew why the investigation into Illusions was canceled, but it still made her feel sick to think that the ponies at F.R.I. had merely laughed off the pony as if she WERE insane, when they were the ones to put her in that position.

Looking up at her clock, she noticed that the time had quickly flown by as she had read through the majority of the day. She was only ten minutes away from closing time, and by the glistening floor around her, the cleaning pony had been through without her notice. Standing up, Keen quickly stowed her things away before moving out of her office, locking the door behind her as she made her way back home for the night, ready to rest while thinking over what she had been over that day.

Chapter 4: Fillydelphia Research Institute

The stallion lifted himself inside of his cell. It had been so long since he had been thrust into this situation, and without the sun or moon, he had no fix on the time, though the meals that appeared in his small room gave him some sense of the time of day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner being distinct enough. The pony walked over to the sink-toilet, pressing the button for cold water, which he splashed on his face to make him feel a bit more awake than he really wanted to feel at the moment. Turning to the center of the room, he saw his dinner, comprised of mashed potatoes, a side of hay fries, some sort of cheese and spinach soup, a cup of water, and a small slice of cake.

"Dinner time..." He moaned as he slowly walked over to the plate. The meal didn't last long, quickly falling to the stallion's appetite. He sat up, watching as the plate suddenly disappeared without a trace. If he had counted correctly, that was the third dinner he had eaten in this place, so unless the feeding schedule was weird, it was inching towards evening. He slowly walked over to one of the white walls, placing a hoof on the cushion, looking over for what seemed like the thousandth time. "When I said I wanted to get away, I didn't mean like this." He muttered in a half sarcastically and half remorsefully. He had long given up hope of escaping, but that didn't mean he desperately missed the outside, if the outside even still existed. The pony shook his head, clearing those dangerous thoughts from his mind. The outside was still there, even though he couldn't see it, it was, no pun intended, out there. He'd just have to play it smart and attempt to survive in this white version of Tartarus until he could find release.

Keen Eye walked down the street, the architecture of the local police station coming into view as she took the final corner. She made her way inside, quickly moving towards the information desk. There were two ponies ahead of her, but really, she didn't mind, since it only meant that she had a few more moments to think. The tape of the third day was very much like the one from the second. Keen figured that it would eventually become routine to the pony that they were in a place they'd never escape, but she hadn't expected it so soon. Maybe stalwart minds maintained their strength through not questioning, and simply finding a semblance of normality in any situation, or maybe this pony was just hoping to ride out this storm.

"Excuse me, ma'am, do you need something?" The police stallion asked, looking at Keen with a questioning glance. Keen only then realized tat the two ponies in front of her had already moved on, having finished their business. Keen moved up to the counter quickly, not wanting to waste any more time.

"Yes, hello, I'm Private Investigator Keen Eye, I'm here on a case and need access to certain files for my investigation, if it isn't any trouble." Keen said with a smile.

"Let me guess, you need files on a certain pony's spouse to see if they really are who they say they are." The stallion asked with a sigh and a look that feigned sympathy.

"Actually, I need files on previously investigated cases that are similar to the one that I am working on." Keen countered. "I have information that the police investigated a case on a project by the Fillydelphia Research Institute, namely on a project called Illusions." The pony gave a slow nod, turning to a small box of files beside him, which he quickly began flipping though.

"Hmm, nope, nothing here on a 'Project Illusions'. Perhaps it was filed under another name?" The stallion offered. Keen shrugged.

"I guess it could've been filed under the collective file for the F.R.I., since by what I've heard, there might have been incidents prior to this one which might have incited an investigation into their matters." Keen replied, the stallion quickly going back to looking through the files. He eventually pulled out a file marked 'Fillydelphia Research Institute', which, for what Keen had expected, was quite thin. The pony opened the file up, only to give a whistle as he looked over what the few papers inside had to say.

"I guess you just hit the jackpot of secretive. The file says that it requires the chief's permission to view anything that has been contained in this file." The stallion, giving Keen a smile. "His office is on the second floor is you want to go farther with this matter, though usually when a file is redacted, it is for a reason. The overall likelihood that you'll be gaining access to that folder is slim to none, unless of course, your investigation is of high enough importance." Keen gave a small nod before turning away and moving towards the stairs. "Good Luck, ma'am." The pony called after her before returning to his work.

The captain's office wasn't that hard to find, seeing as the door was labeled with a golden plaque. Keen gave the door a few knocks, receiving a call in return, bidding her to come inside. Keen slowly pushed the door open, finding herself with a room that reminded her of her own office slightly. The mare behind the desk looked up from her mountains of paperwork briefly, only to look back down.

"Hello, miss, how may I help you today? If you don't mind, try and make it quick, as you can see, I have quite a bit of work in front of me." The captain stated as she gave another signature on some odd piece of paper with a wave of her magic. Keen entered, closing the door behind her, before turning to the chief of police once again.

"I am Private Investigator Keen Eye. While pursuing a certain case I have acquired, I came here to look for some files, but when I asked the pony at the information desk, he told me that the specific files I was after were under your specific jurisdiction, and that without your express permission, no pony would be allowed to view it." At this the chief looked up at Keen with a raised eyebrow. "Since this file is rather important to my investigation, I've come up here to seek your permission to view the file in question." Keen finished. The police pony stood up from behind her desk, moving around it to look at Keen full on.

"As the clerk no doubt already told you, when a file is put under such restriction, it's usually for a good reason." The chief stated. "Either the material is extremely sensitive, or it was designated as special access by authorities higher than this department. In either case, it is highly unlikely that you will be granted permission to view said files without a court order, unless I find it within my good graces to let you view them. Are you absolutely certain you need to view these folders, are maybe you now feel like you can get by without them?" The pony asked, advancing on Keen as she spoke.

""I'm certain that with the information contained in your files that I'll be better armed to deal with the case that I am currently on." Keen replied confidently.

"Very well, if you insist. First, let me see your investigator's badge." Keen Eye quickly procured her badge from her coat. The police mare looked it over, giving a quick nod. "Very good, which files are you trying to get your hooves on that have been locked up?" The chief asked, turning to her filing cabinet.

"I'm looking up information on the Fillydelphia Research Institute, I have information that they have been previously investigated, I just wanted to see what your investigation already turned up that might differ from mine." Keen informed the captain.

"Ah yes, the F.R.I., a rather well investigated group of ponies. I can get you certain files on them without too much trouble, though some other files are completely off limits to anypony without a court order. You don't have one of those do you?" Keen simply shook her head. "Very well, I'll get you the less sensitive files so you can look over them." The pony said, pulling out a folder from her cabinet, passing it to Keen, who quickly flipped through the pages. "You can use the coffee room to read it if you want, since I can't really let you leave the building with it with you." Keen gave a slow nod.

Well, I'll be in the coffee room then. Where exactly is it?" Keen asked, closing the folder and placing it on top of her back.

"It's downstairs, behind the information desk. The pony there should understand and let you through. " The chief explained. "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to call. Oh, and, good luck." Keen nodded and opened the door, making her way back to the downstairs area. The whole police station was bustling as the morning gave way into the afternoon. Keen moved down the stairs, walking back to the information desk. She showed the pony the file, which caused him to give a small smile before he opened the small door that led behind the desk area, allowing her access to the coffee room. Keen gave a small nod, making her way beyond.

Sitting down at one of the several tables, Keen opened the file, looking over the contents. There was one paper on 'Illusions', which had two days of being open, only to be categorized as 'accuser insanity', which promptly made the case shelved. 'Ghost Town', however, was a very different story, with the case going through two weeks of investigation, which mainly focused on the area where the experiment had been carried out. After that time had passed, the case was not closed, but transferred, with the official seal of the Royal Investigators keeping any further documentation away from Keen. The little information contained in it wasn't much more than what she had already obtained. It gave her diagrams of the place where the pony had been stranded, including all measure taken to ensure the pony would not leave, something she didn't have, but in the long run, wasn't that necessary for her to have.

After reading, rereading, and rereading some more, Keen finally left the lunch area, ready to give the folder back and make her way to her apartment. She enjoyed days off, but with such a case looming over her, she couldn't really try and relax, even if she wanted to. She gave the folder back to the police captain without incident, and quickly made her way out of the police station. As she made her way down the street, Keen couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched, the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up. Not wanting to look behind her and scare off who ever it was, Keen adjusted her plans, moving towards the center of the town. The feeling persisted as she came in view of the city park, causing her to pick up the pace.

Soon enough she entered the park, setting herself down on the nearest bench, quickly looking around in the most inconspicuous way possible. Her gaze was quickly fixed on a pony that sat a few benches down. The pony was wearing a trench coat, sunglasses, and a wide brimmed hat. It almost felt to obvious, but that made her all the more likely in Keen's mind. There was a simple way to test that theory. Keen stood up once more, walking slowly through the park, as if she was just enjoying the day, as if she hadn't noticed anything. The sun shone down brightly for the first time in two days, a welcome relief from the overbearing downpour, but she wasn't really here for a leisurely stroll.

The store was much as Keen had remembered it from the last time she had visited, dresses lining the window with their vibrant colors, but they were not the focus of her attention. Staring at the glass, the reflections of everypony behind her were clearly visible, and just as she had feared, the pony in the trench coat was directly across the street, just taking a seat at the local restaurant. the pony picked up the menu, looking at it, though by how the glint in her eye from the sun shifted, Keen could tell she wasn't actually focusing on the specials as she pretended. Keen moved down the street a ways, stopping at yet another store window, looking at the pony who was now finishing giving her order to one of the waiters. With in a few seconds, a sundae of some sort in a carryout cup. Keen walked away again, taking occasional glances at the glass around her at her pursuer. Keen knew that this pony doubtlessly knew where she lived, but even so, she didn't feel comfortable in taking her directly to it. She'd give this pony every opportunity to break the chase and maybe prove they weren't actually following her.

Day Twenty-two, the subject was quite shocked to find bits of electronics in her wound this morning, though they were easily removed. She seems to be getting even more suspicious of her surroundings. Most of the day was spent watching her held up in her room, her coltfriend attempting to talk her down from the edge as it were. In the evening, she burst out from her room and gave the droid a solid buck, sending it flying across the room. The landing caused the skin to fall off slightly, giving us a more than suitable reaction. The pony has once again made attempts to escape the testing area, but the fact she now expects everypony to be a robot stifles her courage in facing the guards, a good thing since we are not truly ready to allow the droids to initiate a violent encounter. She is now attempting to avoid everypony that she sees, much to some of the more extreme members of our team's elation. Tomorrow we will introduce 'Sub-project: Resistance', we can only imagine the results.

Day Twenty-three, as previously stated, we have introduce the sub-project. Five more test subjects who have been in the same conditions all this time now allowed to overflow into the other areas. Much to our surprise, it appears that their shared experience has cause them to draw together as a group before we expected, though this is actually a welcome surprise instead of an unexpected complication. The one researcher we inserted into this group has fed the information given to her, and was then promptly taken away by some of our droids who have had their skins removed. The ponies now believe that they are part of small group of real ponies that are attempting to survive in this desperate future where almost all their relatives have been replaced by robots. This lie is most effective, especially when punctuated with the truly terrified screams of the researcher at her capture. It isn't like she didn't expect it, more of that these droids truly are a terrifying sight without their skins. There's no telling how these ponies will move from here, but we can only hope for natural reactions.

Day Twenty-nine, I've had enough, the test is insane. I realize what we have been attempting to accomplish here: continued research on friendship and its reaction to adverse circumstances. I've heard whispers in the woodwork about several other projects going on at this moment, each as insane and hideous as this one. I hope this whole company gets sacked. No matter how good their intentions, the means of these experiments, much less the results on the ponies that go through them, are pure evil. Some ponies wonder why Discord had so much power over us, citing that we are peace loving and all that jazz, but looking out over this scene, the six ponies attempting to survive the now malignant droids, it's more than I can bear.

Keen set down the file, looking out at her window, and then at her door for what seemed to be the hundredth time. She had huddled up in her apartment, setting her stun stick beside her as she waited for somepony to walk in and attempt to take all the evidence from her, but against her suspicion, nopony had arrived. Keen stood up, setting the now fully read papers on 'Illusions'. The possibility of somepony whose conscience was bothering them was becoming more and more possible, but it didn't mean that that was the way it had happened that she had acquired these things. One thing stuck out in Keen's mind, though. The client had said that it should become quite evident why she had been given this job, but she was still just guessing why, with no clear answer. She still had the files on the research that had previously been done on the F.R.I., but she didn't want to touch it quite yet, at least not until she knew what she was trying to look for. Taking the tape player out along with the files on 'Solitaire', Keen prepared to delve deeper, no matter how late she had to stay up to accomplish her goals.

Chapter 5: A Mind in Turmoil

"Day four of Project Solitaire, the subject is starting to show signs of minor mental trauma, much to be expected under his current situation. He does appear, however, to be aware of what is happening to him in some measure, and has made rather audible attempts at staving off his inevitable insanity, at least it is inevitable if our conceptions of what solitary confinement on a pony's psyche are to be believed. Switching to in room audio."

The stallion paced back and forth, focusing desperately to find some difference in his surroundings, something to focus his mind on, something to distract him from his plight, but he found none. He whipped around, staring at the plate on the floor, now empty of its contents. It hadn't disappeared yet like all the others, but that only made him all the more concerned.

"M-my name is... is Calculated Risk... I am... I am thirty-two." Looking around again as he repeated his last traces of identity as best as he could. "I live in Fillydelphia, I work as a statistician in the private sector. And... and..." Looking around desperately for anything, "I'm... I'm..." Risk fell to his knees giving a loud groan as he put his hooves to his head, "AM GOING INSANE!" He shouted as loudly as possible before breaking down into sobs as he tried his best to remember anything specific, anything he knew was true about his life before The Box, as he had uncreatively begun to call it. It was utter madness, all of it, nothing made sense, nothing like this should make sense, and yet here he was. His world, or at least the construct he had believed to be the world, was falling apart around him, his isolation causing him to grow stir crazy, along with an actual crazy to act as the cherry on top.

As he watched, the platter finally vanished, leaving him with the same white room as he had had for the past four days. Really? Had it only been four days? Considering that was the fourth diner he had had in this blasted place, the odds pointed to yes. Risk stood up and limped over to the sink toilet, not limping because of injury, but of sheer disorientation as up and down no longer were solid concepts in his mind, much less left and right and the point between them. Pressing the button ringed with blue, he found cold water splashing across his face. Looking at the water on his hoof, he suddenly felt weak, slumping down into the bowl of the fixture, feeling utter exhaustion after doing nothing.

"The stallion appears to not be improving, though his condition, though precarious as it is, appears stable for now. The pony's constant reminding of his former life seem to give him a form a surety in the chaos his life has doubtlessly become for this poor soul. Besides that, there is not much to be reported on his status. This is end of night researcher's notes, and end of the fourth day." Keen leaned back in her chair, drinking down the rest of her coffee as she listened to the tape rewind to the beginning before the machine popped open. Keen didn't like this, nothing about this was like anything she could imagine a pony doing to any other living being, much less another pony. Keen considered going down to the records office and asking about this Mr. Calculated Risk, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know how it ended for him, at least not yet. For not the first time, Keen felt the nagging urge to skip forward a few days to cut to the chase, but again, that would run the risk of actually skipping something of importance, not to mention her client's wishes. She'd have to tough it out and get to the bottom of this insanity.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I've always been by you side, always looking after you, no matter what happens!" The stallion shouted in exasperation.

"You never loved me though! You just stand there as if I'm not there. You act like I don't notice, and I even play along just to see where it will go, but it never ends in anything but heartache!" The scratchy voiced mare retorted. "I've finally come to my wits! I'm leaving you now, and I won't come back!"

"Wait, no, don't go! I love you!" The stallion begged. The mare huffed and walked away... only to bump into the cushioned wall as the stallion broke his own illusion of some random soap opera he had never watched. Shaking his head he quickly thought up another scenario, his body quickly going into form as he did, tucking his legs underneath his chest, closing his eyes as the cool mountain air whisked by him, his body changing to an aged pony's. He sensed another presence nearby, a unicorn by what he felt.

"Welcome young one. You have traveled far to reach this point in your journey." He said in a gruff, aged voice, his nonexistent beard twirling in the light breeze. Twirling to his hooves he began to struggle up the quite plain floor, the cold stones that weren't poking at his hooves as the cool air nipped at his lungs. "Please, make yourself welcome." He said, quickly switching positions, his eyes closed still. Switching again, he opened his eyes to see the steel gray stallion sitting on the mountain peek, a top of steaming tea beside him.

"Thank you, sir." He said in a lighter voice, as if he were a younger colt. "I've heard tales of your prowess in battle..." The stallion shook his head. "No, that isn't right... let me try that again." Looking back up to the stallion. "I've come to be taught by you." Switching positions again, he nodded with closed eyes.

"Have some tea, it will do you good in this chill." He said, pushing a cup full of the brew towards his new guest. He sniffed at the cup before quickly drinking it down.

"Thank you, I needed that." Before he could continue, he suddenly heard the distinct sound of his food appearing. Giving a sigh, he walked up to his lunch and began to chow down. Though he had gotten to a point where he almost didn't care about his surroundings, it still was hard not to feel sad about what he had lost. Never again could he see the outside world, and only having white to look at really didn't help his eyes. The only difference in coloration his new world offered was the steel gray of the sink toilet and the colors of his food. He had been trying to think of ways to send a message to wherever his food came from to request some paints, but since none of his meals came with napkins, much less anything he could write with, there was no hope of sending a message. Then again, the likelihood of the entity that kept him here giving him anything he wanted, even the most inane of objects, was so low that he might as well ask to be let out.

Keen sipped from her now empty coffee cup, groaning in no small amount of annoyance. Standing up, she walked to the kitchen, grabbing the coffee pot and putting it in the sink, filling up with hot water. Putting it back into the coffee machine, she replaced the well spent coffee grounds, allowing the pungent scent of the blend bring her a bit closer to the point of wakefulness. She started the machine before wandering over to the fridge, from which she procured a Sparkling Cherry Water. Opening the can with a satisfying hiss, she drank down the carbonated drink in a few swift gulps as she waited for her coffee to get ready.

She had reached day six already, the sun already starting to rise over her city. She had read through the rest of the days that she had on project Illusions and had briefly considered opening the investigation on the F.R.I., but she once again convinced herself to hold off on it for as long as she still had days from Solitaire to listen to.

"The pony appears to have deteriorated severely from yesterday, as he now talks to himself far more often than anypony in their right mind should, but then again, he isn't exactly in anything close to what can be maintained as a 'right mind'." Keen heard the pony in the recording say from the other room. "Project Illusions had that one advantage over this one, that we had access to reports of a psychiatrist on our subject's status, while as this test requires this pony to be completely isolated, so there is no method through which we may determine the mental fortitude of our subject as it stands at the moment. We can only hope that by the end of this time we will be in some state of sanity that will allow him to function in some form of normality when we returns to civilization, though at this point it would be a miracle if when he returns that he actually knows what society even is." Keen could understand this ponies concerns, but even though they agreed on concerns for what might become of the pony after testing, they obviously didn't agree on the matter of the ethicality of this test. Keen shook her head, attempting to stay awake as she waited for the coffee, only to realize both the coffee had finished, and the tape player was now waiting for a new tape.

Keen quickly grabbed the now refilled pitcher of coffee, bringing it over to the small table, pouring some of the brew carefully into her mug before adding some sugar to stave off the pungent acidity of her favored taste in refreshment. She was getting close now, she could feel it, but she had to stay awake if she had any hope of actually getting t the point where all would be revealed. Taking a sip of her coffee, she lifted the file, turning to the seventh day, but as she began to read, her vision continued to refuse to focus properly. Groaning in annoyance, Keen forced her eyes to look at the black type on the simple page.

Project Status: Optimal

Subject's Physical State: Sub-optimal

Subject's Psychological State: Heavily Deteriorated

The subject's monologues, or rather dialogues that simply required him to play both parts, continued on through the night and into the early morning hours until he finally collapsed in exhaustion. In the very least, he continues to eat all the food provided, almost dutifully, so he will not be suffering from nutritional deficiency. We have had some concerns about the budget on this project in relation to how many crates of ground up vitamins and minerals have be purchased to maintain this pony in optimal condition, but the higher ups have assured us that the stream of bits that have been promised for this project is still at a steady flow. The team is still in relatively good spirits, though some are beginning to have doubts, more for the fact that this pony has only been inside for seven days and is already showing signs of mental distress, along with other things. The project moves on, though, and so it will continue until we have had our answers. Enter tape for day seven for fuller details.

Keen set the file down with a sigh. I was getting extremely heard to focus now, but she'd press on for as long as it took. Filling her mug once more, she placed the new tape into the player with a certain measure of difficulty. With a sigh, she pressed the play button down, leaning back with her again empty mug after having drank it down in a few quick gulps.

Waking with a start, Keen looked around the room. Everything was in order, the evidence from the case still resting on the table in front of her. Glancing up at the clock, she saw that she had only been out for a few minutes, the tape player open, having dutifully played the tape to the end, and then rewound it. Keen rubbed a hoof across her eyes, removing the crust that had already begun to form. Keen set about gathering the things together, placing them back into her bags with a sigh. She needed rest, and she couldn't let her curiosity or dedication get in her way of taking care of herself. Picking the bags up, she moved to her room, setting the bulging bags down at the foot of her bed before moving to the nightstand beside her bed, turning off the lamp and setting her alarm before crawling into bed, thoughts of the investigations still dominating her slowly sleeping mind.

Chapter 6: A Miscalculated Risk

Keen stepped into her office, a routine so firmly cemented in her mind that she almost brought out her newspaper, only to realize after a second that there were more important matters to deal with. Taking our her materials, Keen took a deep breath in preparations for whatever lie ahead. She pressed the play button on the machine, not having taken the time the previous night to take out the tape. Sitting back in her chair, she waited for the machine to start playing. After a click, a pop, and the sound of something taping on the recording device that had been used, the recording started.

"This is day seven for Project Solitaire. There isn't much to report that hasn't already been state. The ponies around here are starting to get a bit tired of this experiment, not entirely certain as to HOW necessary this project is. As it stands, we still are moving forward with the project until we reach the end goal. End of morning researcher notes, switching to in room audio." The distinct click of the audio feed switching once again came. The room was rather silent, though faint murmurs could still be heard over the microphone. Keen looked at the file on that day once more, though nothing new jumped out at her.

"I am king over all of this land!" The pony in the chamber shouted, causing Keen to lower the paper and raise an eyebrow at the machine. "None dare defy my commands! Under me we will prosper in this good and rich land, where our crops shall grow tall in the fertile soil that abounds here!" The sound of movement. "I defy you, and all of your court!" The stallion shouted back at his other self in a slightly lighter voice. "I have trained at High Horseguard, and I will not fall to you, for I am the hope of this land to escape tyranny as yours!" More movement. "Ha ha ha, you stand no chance against my army of well trained soldiers! High Horseguard wished it was as good... no no no!" A brief pause. "First you fall, then High Horseguard! Then I will be uncontested in my throne, and this land shall prosper under my guidance." Keen chuckled briefly. Even though it was sad how this pony had fallen to such a state, his antics certainly were entertaining, not to mention the fact he could probably make a fairly entertaining book with the ideas he had.

"The subject continued rambling on throughout the day, much as expected if we are honest." Another stallion's voice interrupted. "He did take brakes to eat the meals provided, but beyond that, he has basically devoted himself to playing out this story of his. The team is rather divided on this aspect of the pony's reaction to isolation. It has been suggested that it is his coping mechanism. It makes sense, since more ponies would likely attempt to read a book or something of that nature in this position, if it wasn't for the fact that he has no access to anything except essentials for life. Some of the ponies have considered putting something extra in one of his meals, maybe some paper and crayons, or paints. The general thought behind this is to give him something a bit more constructive to do, but it has been agreed that that would taint our results. Maybe this self storytelling is tainting our results, but them again, we cannot stop him from talking to himself. This is the end night researcher's notes, and of day seven." Keen nodded to herself as the tape player rewound the tape to the very beginning.

"And so the detective finished yet another tape in her investigation, inching ever closer to the truth of this case." Keen said with a smirk as she tried a bit of self-narration, though she shook her head and carried on without narrating the fact she switched out the tapes and had taken the file back up to look over the information on the next day.

Project Status: Optimal

Subject Physical Status: Sub-optimal

Subject Psychological Status: Questionable

No notes. Refer to tape of day eight.

Keen looked at the page with curiosity, this being the first time the page didn't contain notes on the day. Keen finally just shrugged it off, pressing down the play button on the tape player. As the tape player began to play, her world suddenly went dark as a gigantic pain sprouted from the back of her head.

Keen slowly opened her eyes, a gigantic headache greeting her as she did. Lifting herself up, her pushed the paper that clung to her cheek and looked around her office. Her things were scattered everywhere, her saddlebags thrown in a heap in the corner. Standing up quickly, she rushed around, quickly gathering what she had together into a stack, surprised to find the notes on Solitaire were are still in order in their file, with only the schematics and scant personal details on the subject having been scattered about the room. The tape player sat on her desk still, allowing with all the tapes, which was a welcome surprise, but as she searched her bags and other things, a horror dawned on her. The files on Illusions and on the F.R.I. were gone from her office, but what did remain, was a note stuck to the bottom of the lid of the tape player.

'STOP THIS IDIOTIC PURSUIT.' The bold black letters proclaimed. Keen felt a twinge of suspicion in her gut. Removing the note from the player, she shut the lid, pressing the button, only to receive a screeching distorted audio feed with very intermissions of understandable clips of audio. Switching the tapes frantically, desperately trying to find a tape that wasn't ruined. To her surprise, she found that the tape for the thirteenth day was still good. Keen grabbed the folder with the papers on each day and quickly went to the thirteenth day, looking over it quickly, only to realize that it was covered in ink, not only that, but all the other pages had suffered the same fate. Keen sighed, looking at the remaining tapes, now her soul method of gaining information about the case.

Keen groaned, and for the third time, she put a tape back into its case. It appeared that many of the tapes had gone undamaged at first, but she found out that even the tapes that appeared to be largely undamaged eventually had a break in their audio. She opened the shelf, revealing the tapes labeled seventeen, only to close it again with a sigh of frustration, not feeling like going through those motions again. Standing up from her desk, she moved over to the window, opening it to allow the slightly fresher air inside the room, letting the cooler evening air relax her slightly. Looking around, she saw that already the streets looked quite empty, but then something caught her eye. A pony garbed in a lab coat ducked into an alleyway, obviously having seen her look out in a direction near him.

Closing the window in a rush, Keen charged out her office door and down the stairs, making it to the alleyway where the pony had disappeared to. Much as she had expected, nopony was there, but she wasn't going to give up simply because they weren't in visual range. Charging off, she quickly checked each branching path from the alleyway, sure the pony couldn't have gotten far. As she turned another corner, she found herself looking at pristine metal, as if she were now...

Keen's eyes went wide as she darted out of the alleyway, looking back to her office building, only to see a pile of rubble. A smirk broke out across Keen's muzzle as a faint realization came to her. These ponies knew what they were doing, but when they faced another pony that was wise to them, their tactics would be as impressive. Turning back around, she found her saddle bags which still contained all of the things for the investigation, though a note was now attached to the top of it.

'Discard the contents of this bag if you wish to return to where you should be.' Keen chuckled at the slight hilarity in the situation as she removed the note and placed her bags on her shoulders. If these ponies could recreate a city block, she'd find where their influence ended. Galloping off in the direction she knew would get her to the edge of the city in about ten minutes. She'd find the end of this, and prove that these ponies weren't perfect, and that they couldn't plan for every eventuality.

Keen stared in disbelief at the rubble before her. It was her office building's ruins, but that wasn't exactly what caught her off guard. What had caught her off guard was the fact that for the last fifteen minutes, she had been walking in the opposite direction of said ruins, and yet here she was standing in front of it yet again. Nothing was making sense, none of this was even slightly rational. Keen shook her head. No, they wanted her to think logically about this scenario so that they could play off of that. She was a highly rational pony, at least in her eyes, but for the sake of escaping, she'd have to use some rather complicated lateral thinking that might not make much sense to any rational mind. A pony thinking without any visible reason would most definitely throw them off their game, after all, nopony can plan for the unexpected. Keen started walking once more, a clear objective in her mind's eye.

The alleyways multiple side paths were the same as before, except now the metal covered passage was expanding its influence. Keen stuck a hoof out over the metal, slowly setting it down, a cold shiver running up her as she did. Keen walked across the metal flooring towards the the dead end at the end of the path. The walls seemed completely solid, with nothing peculiar about them, but that was exactly what Keen found so strange about them, and what made them so perfect. Keen poked at the wall at the end of the path, smiling as her hoof passed through it, much as she had expected. Stepping through, she was met with a stairwell that led into some sort of underground structure that resembled the steam engine rooms she had seen on certain boats.

Moving down the stairs, the air progressively got warmer as the ambient heat for the pipes and machinery permeated the air. There were gears and other mechanisms all around her, but not only that, she saw several physical spell matrices that bobbed up and down in the air, glowing with power. These object probably had something to do with the repeating scenery up above, though she couldn't tell seeing as she had never taken too much interest in learning EVERY spell out there, though some of the symbols that swam about inside and around the ball of mechanically maintained magic, including the symbol for, as she remembered it, 'Mechanisma', or essentially the sub-spell that turned mechanical energy into magical. She had been told that it was a difficult one to cast, though once you had it down you could use it on near anything, allowing massively perpetuated spell matrices.

Moving on, Keen searched the room for some sort of exit, occasionally poking at the walls to check if they were real, though each one was as solid as the last. Keen eventually looked back at one of the matrices, checking it over for anything other symbols she recognized, though none stood out in the sea of swirling arcane symbols.

Staring at the glowing mass, Keen slowly settled on a plan. Since this spell matrix contained some connection to why she was in an infinite looping segment of the city, and since there was no other visible way of getting out of this place, there was one thing left for her to do. Moving over to the first boiler, she smacked the pipe moving out of it off, repeating the process to all of the drivers of the spell. Soon enough, all of the room was shrouded in a hot cloud of steam, making it near impossible to see where anything was. Keen slowly made her way along one wall until she found the stairs to the outside. Moving quickly, she left the clouded room, surprised to find that none of the steam had come through the fake wall as she caught her breath and and attempted to cool down.

Having finally caught her breath and cooled down enough that she felt like she could actually move, she noticed another peculiarity about the world, that being that the rest of the world she could see from her current position had completely turned into metal. Moving out of the alleyway, which was now revealed to just be a corridor, she confirmed that the entire area had turned to metal, and not only that, the entire area was devoid of features except for the small grouping of walls behind her. It was possible, she thought, that the spell matrices had also been attached to an illusion spell that made the area look like her home, even going to far as making physical building where there where none in reality. Now that the spell faded, she noticed the doorway on the far wall, which also confirmed that the spell had an infinitely looping layout to keep her inside for as long as it held.

Keen galloped towards the wall, only to trip over a stone that briefly faded in and out of existence. Looking around her, the buildings that had once been there now returned as ghost images, and the true wall beyond shimmered as it partially revealed the falsified city beyond. Getting back up, she galloped at full speed, dodging the partially materialized buildings around her. Apparently the spell either had a latent magical charge with a sub-spell to unleash its arcane energy should the mechanical systems fail, or be disconnected, or somepony was repairing the system she had tried so valiantly to destroy. Jumping over a ghostly bench and through a store window, Keen pushed herself as hard as possible, sliding over the clock shop's counter before moving out the back door. Her lungs burned in effort, her legs screaming for her to rest as she came within two ponies length of the wall. Reaching a hoof out to push the door open, she found herself stumbling through the wall as the spell fully recovered, the world returning to its former state with only the briefest hints of the spell having a few hiccups as it returned to regular functionality.

Keen slammed her hoof into the road in frustration, having worked so hard only to be denied her reward. Keen stood up and brushed herself off before turning around, moving back towards the alleyway. As she did a bright flash blinded her for a second. Blinking the blinding lights from her eyes, she looked back to where she had been going, only to find the city behind her was now replaced by a dessert, the heat in the area rising almost immediately, and without warning. Glancing over her shoulder, she confirmed that the entirety of the place was now a desert. Keen fell to her haunches, shaking in frustration ad sadness in equal parts, now farther from home than ever.

Keen stood up, having stopped crying and shouting at the nothing around her. She took out the tape player, looking at it with an almost hateful glare, before letting out a sigh as she set it down on the sandy ground. She took out the seventeenth day's tape, putting it inside the player and pressed the play button after shutting the lid, letting the tape begin slowly before hoisting it onto her back as she began moving, her search for a method to escape continuing. She might just have to abandon all her things, but she'd at least have a few days more of knowledge about the project before abandoning it completely.

"Day seventeen of Project Solitaire," the researcher mare began as her colleagues had all the days previous, "The pony continues his silent streak, more than likely having reached a satisfying ending in his long narrative. Some of the ponies in the team have considered taking the audio from the times we have him telling that story and putting it together into a series for future use, and not so much for research, but more for entertainment, seeing as the general consensus amongst the team is that it was an interesting story whilst it lasted. Not to mention it had that rather interesting plot twist around, I believe it was , day fifteen." Keen chuckled slightly as the mare continued. If she could, Keen would see if she could get the recording of that and have the stallion give her permission to give it to Ink Blotch, she'd turn it into an epic worthy of the pony who had formed it. "To continue," the mare said, breaking Keen from her train of thought, "The pony, fortunately, continues to eat all of his food, meaning he won't be suffering from malnutrition anytime soon. I'm glad I'm not in charge of the budget, I don't even want to think how much we are spending on those supplements we cram into his hayburgers, salads, and drinks. The lower sector of the lab if filled with crates of the stuff, so much so you'd think we were attempting to prepare for the end of the world, and not just trying to ensure the survival and physical fitness of some pony who has already endured seventeen days alone. End of morning researcher notes, switching to in roo-"

"Vile, we need to talk!" A stallion shouted from behind the researcher who had been recording her notes. "I've had about enough with this project, what we're doing here isn't right, and it isn't for the greater good as we keep on saying. We're just school foals satiating their curiosity on what will happen when we play with matches, and just like those ponies, we will get burned in the end!" Keen listened with interest as she realized that the morning researcher wasn't about to stop recording her notes, having most likely forgotten that she hadn't pressed the button.

"I know that we are all stressed, and I also know that many of you want to stop this along with him, but we need to stay on task. We are already passed the halfway point, why would we want to stop now when within a few more short days we will be done with this project for good, and not only that, but in the right way." The morning researcher reasoned.

"You don't get it, we are just done. If we could handle a few more days, we'd do it in peace, but we can't. This thing has gotten far too serious for us. I want out, and I know there are several more like minded ponies that, if they had courage, would ask for the same." The stallion claimed. "We want out, and we want out now!"

"Fine, you can go, but you know what leaving the team means for you and your knowledge of this project." Vile state, her tone becoming darker. "Are you sure you want to have your memories removed simply because you're feeling a bit sick about your involvement with this project? That would be seventeen days you can't account for with your family and friends. Think how that would make them feel, and then think again about what you are doing." The stallion huffed.

"I'd rather be unable to tell the ponies what I had been doing for these past seventeen days than have the nightmares that they'd bring to me otherwise! I'd like to be able to sleep at night, thank you very much!" The pony roared. "And unlike someponies hear, my conscience is potent enough that if it isn't at rest, I can get any rest. So take my memories if you want, but at least I won't have to deal with this for the rest of my life!" A moment of silence followed, and even without being there, Keen could feel the tension so thick that it could be cut.

"Alright, you'll be released from this project and all memories dealing with it. Any other ponies who wish to leave now?" the mare asked, with another drawn out moment of silence following. "I hope the three of you are sure about what you are doing." She said, two other ponies having apparently joined up with the stallion. "You will be missed." Vile finished.

"Yeah, but we won't miss it here." The stallion retorted. "I hope you never get over the nightmares this project gives you, it's the least you deserve from all this." With that, three sets of hooves walked away, a few murmurs audible in the background.

"Everypony back to work, we are short three ponies now and we'll need to cover for them." The morning researcher, Vile, said in a voice than rang with confidence. "Let's get this over with so that we can go back to our families the right way." A few grunts of agreement followed as the pony walked back to the mic stand. "Hmm, that's odd, no audio from inside.. oh wait, forgot to turn off the mic. This is the end of morning researcher notes, finally switching to in room audio feed." She said, returning to protocol. With a pop the recording switched to the evening researcher's notes, whose reports were blander than dirt.

Keen sighed to herself as the recording ended and the player began to rewind. At least now she knew that amongst the ponies that had been involved with the project, there were those that hadn't whole hardheartedly agreed with the principles and methods in play with the project. Maybe she'd luck out as well and find her way out through the help of a dissenter, though as she thought about it, the realization that all of the dissenters had probably already left made that option of escape through those means extremely unlikely, nay, impossible. Kicking the sand under her hooves in annoyance, Keen moved on, attempting to find a fake floor or something to show her where the spell room was, although, knowing these ponies, they wouldn't make the same mistake twice, which meant it would be all the harder to do the second time, if they hadn't in fact made it impossible.

Chapter 7: A Compass in the Desert

"Day Eighteen of Project Solitaire, We have lost five more ponies during the night, each fully agreeing and willing to lose their memories of the previous days, a truly admirable, yet foolish, action. The pony in our care continues to be silent, the only sign that he's alive being the missing food from the plates we teleport out of the cell. Twelve days remain before we end this project and are aloud to return to our families, and not just sleep in the barracks. I'll be honest, I hate lying to my family, saying I'm off to do special research in a joint project with the Griffin Kingdom as an explanation of why I'm gone for thirty days on a single project, though I, along with the others, realize it is for the best. We plan on giving the pony a little something special to eat some time soon as a sort of encouragement to keep hanging on. His data says that his favorite food is a certain pasta dish served at a restaurant two blocks from his office. Maybe we could ask the higher ups to order it so we can give him something a bit more special than just a sandwich with fries. I'll make a note to just that effect, and this is a point on which I'll insist, even if I have not done so on any other point thus far in the project. End of morning researcher's notes, switching to in room audio."

Risk stood up, looking around at his empty as ever room, the white burning into his eyes. Turning to the sink, he let his eyes relax slightly with staring at the blue and red rings surrounded by silver. He had lost count of how many dinner, lunches, or breakfasts he had had in this place, not that it mattered anymore. As all things tend to do, his hope had long withered and died, and now he was just going through the motions of living with little of anything behind his movements. The food that once was rich in flavor now tasted like cardboard, and the reflection the water gave him made it all the more obvious that he was loosing color, as his inner magic gave into the despair and sapped his very essence with it. Though there was still color in the world, it all seemed a shade of gray, all colors, that was, except the burning white that surrounded him that caused him literal physical pain. As he stared at the metal, the shimmering sound of his food arriving caused him to pry his eyes away from their safe bastion, entering the realm of pain of scanning the floor for the next oasis of different colors that his plate harbored. He slowly walked up to the plate, lowering his head to eat it, more of going through the motions without any heart, the same way he did everything else.

Keen stowed the tape player in her bags, not feeling up to listening to the next tape. Looking up, she saw the false sun bearing down on her, scorching her very real hide. She grumbled to herself as she moved on, tracing the same grid pattern she had been working on for the last twenty minutes, hoping to find the spot of sand she knew would eventually come, showing her the way to the boiler room. Even if the steam engines were still broken, the room might be better than this, no, it WOULD be better than this. It would have water in the air, something Keen needed desperately.

"You looking for something down there?" A voice asked from above. Keen stopped dead in her tracks, looking up towards it to see a pegasus floating midair while giving her a questioning glance. "I mean, I don't know what you're like. Maybe you like getting your hide burned off while listening to some of the worst audio drama this side of the desert." Keen blinked a few times at the stallion, groaning as she continued her grid pattern search of the sands. "I don't know where you're from, but usually it is customary, polite even, to provide a response to a pony that is talking to you, or at least acknowledge them." Keen grunted in response, only to stop dead in her tracks.

"Alright, can you tell me where the nearest unicorn is?" Keen asked. The pegasus just looked at Keen, his expression betraying nothing of what he thought, assuming he was thinking. "Are you going to leave me hanging?"

"Sorry, wasn't sure if it was a custom from where you are from to let a pony stew for a few moments before giving conversation." The stallion said with a smirk. "As to your question, you should head west if you are looking for a unicorn. I also suggest not walking back and forth since that expends more energy than its worth."

"West? What's in the west?" Keen asked.

"Saddle Arabia's capitol... among other things." The pegasus replied. "There are unicorns that live their if you are really looking for one." He continued. "Look, how about before you go you stop by my shack and get some water, not to mention some ointment for your coat. You're near aimless meandering through this desert couldn't have been good for you."

"Wait... how long have you been watching me?" Keen asked, looking at the stallion suspiciously.

"Ever since the unicorn on the other end teleported you in here. I'm guessing that is why you need a unicorn, so that you can teleport back." The pegasus said.

"Wait... teleported? What are you talking about?" Keen said, her mind trying to wrap around this new revelation, a revelation that shook her world.

"Yeah, must've been a doozy too. It blinded me for almost three seconds, kind of scary when you think about it, not to mention the arcane bands that were still fading as I was actually able to lay eyes on anything." the pegasus replied. "Wait, you mean you didn't know you got teleported? How do you even do that?" Keen just looked at the pegasus in confusion as she tried to piece the whole situation. It might make sense that the chamber had a sub-spell that would teleport the ponies inside to a designated location when it was in critical conditions, and the spell matrix that had been her captor would have most likely been designed to ensure that if she could escape, that it wot least try and send her as far as possible so that she wouldn't make it back in any decent amount of time. Shaking herself, she looked back to the stallion who floated patiently above her.

"Thank you for the help, and sorry if I seem out of it. It's been... stressful lately. I guess you can understand that." Keen said finally, giving the pony a smile. The stallion simply shrugged in response.

"I guess; but still, it's weird that you just up and poof in the middle of the desert and then for no reason begin pacing back and forth... okay, well, then again, I guess that for a grounded pony, walking back and forth until you know where you are might actually be the better of all options, but you know what I mean." The pony said in response.

"Yeah, I guess that would be weird. Either way, thanks for the directions." She finished before giving a wave and moving off towards what she guessed was west by the sun's position.

"Hey, maybe you'd like to stop by my cottage first." The pony offered. "You probably need some water since you got shot out here with... well, what I can only guess is no prior warning. I mean it isn't far and I bet you could use it." The stallion offered. Keen looked back towards him, debating her options. On one hoof, she didn't know this pony, but on the other hoof, she did need some water, or anything to keep her hydrated for that matter.

"Thanks, I'll take you up on that offer." Keen replied, returning the smile the stallion gave her. "But for the sake of time, this needs to be quick, I rather not be out in this heat for too long." The stallion nodded quickly.

"Yeah, no pony in their right mind would want to be in the desert at night without supplies. Come on, it's this way, just follow me." The stallion said before turning in a seemingly random direction and flying off. Keen quickly began to follow him, trying her hardest to keep him in sight, and with him flying in the windless air above, and her trudging through the shifting sands, it was a rather hard task.

Eventually the pair reached a rather beaten up stone shack, that didn't exactly resemble much of would Keen labeled as a cottage, though since it wasn't her's to deem what she would, she'd leave the categorization of living places up to the pony, or otherwise, who lived in said place. The stallion landed in front of the locked wooden door, producing a key from the small pouch that was looped around his neck, clicking the lock open. Dropping the key into the pouch again, he turned back to Keen with an awkward smile.

"Eh, would you mind staying out here while I go in and get the stuff? I wasn't expecting company, and, well... I never know what my brother gets into when I'm not around to knock some sense into his brain from time to time. Both a negative and a positive really, but either way, would you please just wait out here for a few moments?" the stallion said. Keen shrugged, not really caring either way, and saying as much to the stallion. "Okay, great, I'll be back in a few seconds.. eh, moments with the stuff." Keen nodded, watching as the stallion returned the same before slipping inside. The clang and clatter of things inside the bunkeresque building could be heard as the pony moved about the inside, returning shortly with saddlebags on his back and a large canteen of water dangling from the strap held in his mouth. Keen took the canteen, taking of the lid before taking several greedy gulps, not caring as some of the water rolled around her lips and dribbled down her chin. Smacking her lips as she drew the canteen back, she gave a sigh of relief before drinking more, until the canteen was empty. She gave the canteen back to the stallion who shrugged with a smile as he took the canteen and ungracefully tossed it back inside of the house.

"About what I expected really." He said as he closed and locked the door. "Good thing I got extras for the trip on over." Keen cocked her head questioningly at the stallion. "What, did you expect me to just give you a pat on the back and a shove in the right direction? No, I'm going with you. It wouldn't be right to just leave a pony to her own devices out here in the desert."

"As wonderful of a gesture that might be," Keen began sternly, "I am quite capable of taking care of myself, and you need not bother yourself with me any further." The stallion chuckled lightly.

"I'm sure you are quite capable of taking care of yourself, but out here in the desert, things aren't quite so straight forward as in the forest or tundra, much less the city. You might be one of the best survivalists when it comes to making it out in a forest, mountains, or any other area you can think of, but the desert is completely different from anything you know, which makes it all the more dangerous unless you, like me, have taken extensive training in desert survival and lived over a year in a place like this, which I doubt severely, no offense intended if you ACTUALLY did all that, but I just find it hard to believe." Keen blinked a few times, before sighing once again.

"Fine, but you really don't have to. I'd imagine that you have other, more important thing that you could, and probably be doing." Keen relented finally, though the hope the stallion wouldn't actually come along was still there, though the understanding that his company would be an advantage over this wilderness she shouldn't pass up on.

"Not really. Besides, I got stuff I needed to do in town anyway, so this is just another excuse to head on that way. So, let's get going." The pony said, spreading his wings and taking to the air. "After noon in might be the best time to travel, but we only got about six hours before the sun starts to dip behind the horizon, which will make it impossible and impractical to travel. As hot as it is now, it will go farther in the opposite direction on the thermostat once night falls." Keen nodded slowly, remembering having heard how the temperatures in the desert varied so widely somewhere before, though she couldn't place exactly that was. "Any way, as I said, let's get a move on." Keen nodded once move, falling in behind the stallion, positioning herself so that his shadow fell on her, providing some shade in the blistering heat.

The two ponies had been traveling for nearly five hours when the stallion had decided that it was time to start setting up camp. He produced sticks, twigs, and other assorted fire starting utensils from his bag, quickly setting about producing a fire that was sustainable in the shifting sands. He built a small raised cloth fence thing around them, though it had no roof on it, something Keen quickly asked about.

"Well, we got a fire going, so if we closed the top of the tent we'd have a hot air balloon on our hooves. The main reason, however, that I even set this thing up is because of the infamous Sandstorms of the Darood Desert. They aren't as big as the sandstorms whipped up further north, much less the ones you can get in the eastern part of Zebrica, but they can come without a warning and snuff out a fire in seconds, not to mention cut into you in you stand out in them for long enough." The pony explained. By the expression he bore, Keen guessed that he had either experienced or watched somepony get 'cut into' by the sandstorms.

"So... what do you have to do in town that makes it reasonable to travel with me?" Keen asked, hoping to steer the stallion away from whatever painful memory he might be dredging up at the moment. The pony gave a small smile, tilting his head back to look at the stars that were already beginning to appear.

"To be honest, I don't have much to do in town except buy a train ticket." The pony replied. "I'm trying to finally leave this place. I've never been a fan, never will be." He stated flatly. "But not only that, I couldn't exactly leave you out in the desert in your condition, it wouldn't be right." He finished, changing his focus to Keen.

"Thank you for that, I don't think I would've made it out of here without you coming along to help me." Keen replied, swallowing a bit of humble pie. "So," She said, redirecting the conversation once more, "How much longer until we get to the city?"

"Hmm," the pony hummed in thought, his hoof waving about as if he were calculating something, "I'd say roughly two days, though we will be out of the desert by tomorrow evening if we keep up a good pace." He replied. "The supplies I brought along should last us until we actually get to a point were we can resupply, though if it doesn't, there are plenty of cacti that grow the further west you go." Keen nodded slowly in acknowledgement, allowing the silence of the desert take over the small camp, only broken by the crackling and occasional pops from the fire. "Oh, just remembered; Lodestone." He said, presenting a hoof to Keen, though there wasn't anything on his hoof that Keen could see.

"What now?" Keen asked, looking at the stallion with a raised eyebrow.

"My name, I just remembered I never told you it, and it's Lodestone." He explained. "And your name is?" Keen's eyes widened as she comprehended the situation, taking the hoof and giving it a shake in greeting as they truly met each other.

"I'm Keen Eye. I guess neither of us thought that names really were important when survival out here kind of depended on what we took time to do and say." Keen chuckled.

"It's a good habit to have out here... I mean being thrifty with time. Being rude isn't a good habit to have anywhere." Lodestone amended, scratching the back of his neck. "Anyway, I, uh, didn't actually bring bedding materials, so, um, I guess we just find a particularly comfortable patch of sand and call it a night. We'll need to be well rested for tomorrow if we want to make good time to the less arid areas of the country." Keen nodded in agreement, moving around to the other side of the campfire, bedding down in the sand, closing her eyes, resigning to sleep in the warmth of the fire.

Keen woke up, the campfire in front of her long extinguished and the fence thing stowed away, Lodestone in the process of placing the rolled up bundle in his pack. Keen stood up, stretching, noticing with a bit of surprise that a plate of food sat just out of her hooves reach. Moving up to it, she quickly munched down on the rather delicious food, pleasant memories of camping with family coming back to her with each bite.

"Morning, Keen, I was about to wake you up, but I guess that's one less thing to deal with this morning." The pegasus stallion said as he closed his bags.

"You make it sound as if you had a lot to deal with so far this morning." Keen commented. "Did I sleep through something?" She asked, looking around for anything that'd give her a sign.

"Nothing that couldn't be expected. To put it simply, even though the stuff that builds up around your eyes is called sand, it feels nothing like the real thing when introduced to the ocular structures." Lodestone grumbled in annoyance as he hefted the bags onto his back. Keen flinched back, the though of waking up with sand in her eyes causing her a small measure of pain as her mirror neurons gave her a small imaginary taste of what had been described. "Anyway, let's get moving, we got a long day ahead of us, and fewer hours of daylight than ponies further north to do what we got to do it in." Keen nodded, taking out the rest of her breakfast as quickly as possible before stowing the plate in her bags out of reflex.

"So, do we walk or do we trot?" Keen asked, ready for either option.

"My first instinct is to say fly, but you don't have that luxury. Trotting is a no go really. Even though it gets you places faster, it heats you up faster, meaning you'll have to rest several times more than if you walk, which more than makes up for the extra distance you cover in the same time. So we're walking." Lodestone replied, quickly moving out away from the rising sun.

Keen and Lodestone had been walking all the morning, into the first few hours after noon, only stopping for lunch as the first cacti came into view. The food consisted of bread, a bit of cactus water, and peeled cactus core, the last element of said meal being a pleasant surprise in terms of flavor to Keen, not to mention how much good the moisture it contained did her. After lunch, they continued moving through the cacti, the sparse grouping slowly becoming a tall forest of green trunked trees, which did provide a certain measure of shade from the sun's assault on Keen's hide. As the sun began to dip beyond the horizon, the pair once again set up camp, though this time Lodestone refrained from setting up the fence structure, stating the cacti in the area did a rather good job of both keeping the sand in its place, and sheltering them from the brunt of the storm, though the possibility of minor damages was still there.

"So, Lodestone, what were you doing out here in the first place if you hate it so much?" Keen asked as she watched their food cook over the fire. Lodestone remained quiet for a few moments, his eyes fixed on the fire. His silence almost made Keen believe he hadn't heard her question, though just as she was about to ask the question once more, he looked up at her with sad eyes.

"You," He replied simply, garnering a questioning look from Keen before he pressed on and explained what he meant, "The thing I called my home was anything but a home." Looking at Keen with a look that almost seemed as if it wee the first time he actually looked at her. "I am, or rather was, part of something called 'Project: Cat and Mouse' by the Fillydelphia Research Institute." Ken's eyes went wide as he began to reveal his secret. "I was sent to check up on the spell matrices that were creating the reality you had been trapped in, but as I tried to provide the 'Mechanisma' spell with some power to keep the thing running, the emergency magical energy supply ran out and the spell's final phase switched on. The fail safe of the thing was to teleport everypony inside of the chamber and its adjoining areas to a designated area, in this case the middle of this desert. I was caught in it, and so, sent here with you."

"Y-you're one of them?" Keen stammered in surprise. "You... you ponies are monsters!" Keen raged, standing up as she glared daggers at the stallion she had begun to trust slightly. "You trap ponies just to test some theory and them act as if they're insane when they press charges and have you investigated!"

"I agree, the F.R.I are monsters." Lodestone concurred with a nod, catching Keen off guard. "I'm only an intern and I've already seen some messed up stuff. I was brought on to train the ponies in the team should hey be on the receiving end of the spell, and it just so happens that I know some minimal spell maintenance, which qualified me for being the quicky repair pony. If I had known what those ponies were using that spell matrix for before trying to fix it, I would've shut them down myself. I didn't have time to identify them before the teleportation sub-spell was set off, but I did recognize some high level deception spells though, which pretty much gave away the whole thing to me."

"Wait... you didn't know why they wanted you to train them in desert survival? Why would you take the job then? Don't you check up information about your employers?" Keen asked, stunned at this pony's perceived incompetence, but just as she was about to continue her tyrade on him, he shook his head, dismissing Keen's disbelief as he explained.

"I looked up info on them, but really, it's as you say, they make anypony with claims against them look crazy, so there was no way for me to think of it as anything but that, and plus they were paying me a large sum to train even a single pony when their teams consisted of more than a dozen. In my current situation, I'm in no position to decline a good offer for work. If I had known what they did, I'd would've never accepted, no matter how many bits they offered me in exchange." The stallion huffed.

"So how do you know what they do? A spell matrix that contains deception magic is suspicious, but isn't exactly grounds on which to think a pony in vile. A bit to secretive and recluse, yes, attempting to paint themselves as another pony for their own benefit, maybe, but it doesn't paint them in monster and deplorable territory." Keen questioned.

"The recordings you were listening to. The morning researcher is the same for that project as Project: Cat and Mouse. Plus, she is one of the highest ranking ponies in the Institute, and the only one that isn't from Filly, or is at least extremely good at hiding it." Lodestar explained easily. "Not to mention some faint whispers I heard that now make more sense with this bit of information." Keen nodded slowly finding the reasoning acceptable for the most part.

"So we are currently attempting to get back to where we started."Keen summarized. "Do you think we should call the police up on this one? It might not do too much good since they are well trained discreditors by now."

"It probably wouldn't be in our best interests, no," Lodestone admitted, "But there is one thing we can do, and that is listen to the rest of those recordings you got there so we can get a firmer sense of the true operations of the F.R.I., or at least now what they are truly capable of." Lodestone said, motioning to Keen's bags. Keen nodded, setting the tape player out, quickly changing the tape, having foregone that action previously. Pressing down the play button, the two ponies, surrounded by nothing but cacti, began to listen to the nineteenth day's recording.

Chapter 8: Heists on the Sands

"The higher ups agreed, a welcome change from the usual, to giving the subject a little something special to eat today for lunch. We ordered his favorite dish and included a glass of his favorite refreshment. It won't be so much an atonement for misdeed committed against his person, but more so a way we can put ourselves in a bit of a better light in our own conscience. We lost seven other good ponies, which now means we are running on a skeleton crew that has been on a diet for thirteen years. We are understaffed, severely underpaid for what we are going through, and are treated as foals if we complain. I, unlike others, have no qualms about the moral implications of this experiment, after all he did sign the papers when we were forthcoming and asked him if he wished to be sealed in a solitary confinement chamber, a prospect, I must remind everypony here, he seemed more than excited about; deserters have said that the memory spell use on him afterwards causes the contract to be void, but really, in any court of law, it's sound as a rock, especially with the voice confirmation he provided us with. With all these facts considered, the one thing I have certain qualms about, certain complaints about, is the fact that we are so poorly paid for what we deal with. The subject is basically getting thirty free meals while we get paid only a small fraction above minimum wage. The point is is that we should all get a raise, not just me. The ponies here are now working double and triple duty to keep up with the demand, so it only seems fair that we get a corresponding increase in the size of our check, and that doesn't mean the size of the paper they write it on. At any rate, this is the end of morning researcher notes, switching to in room audio."

"She certainly can be long winded at times." Lode stone remarked as the audio gave a brief click before the sound of movement in the cushioned chamber filled the speakers. Keen nodded, though she wasn't paying attention to what was happening, she was more focused on the rage she felt towards that researcher pony. She had subjected a pony to eighteen days of living Tartarus, and considered it freeloading, while she complained about how much she was being paid for torturing the pony.

Keen broke away from her thoughts, deciding to focus on the recording for once as the sounds of movement in the chamber told her that something of note would happen that day, or that somepony had allowed less vital, or interesting information onto the tapes. The slight sound of the food being teleported into the room was the slightest bit audible. As she listen, the sounds of the pony eating took over until a deathly silence took over the room, only to be shattered with the sound of shattering glass, which caused Keen and Lodestone to look up at each other in shock before focusing their gazes on the machine once more as the sound of the cutting of something wet could be heard. After a few moment, a thud echoed throughout the chamber before the sound of something falling from the ceiling and the voice of several ponies told Keen that something was seriously wrong. The sound cut out once again, replaced by the researcher mare sighing in exasperation before beginning to talk.

"That was a huge mistake on our part, I'll admit it. The glass we provided the pony with was shattered within a few moments of entering the room. The pony cut his own foreleg open, dipping a stem of parsley in the open wound, which he used as paint to make the crude portrait of a pony. Sanitation crew was about to clean it up, but I stopped them. That pony had the guts to cut himself and paint that image in his own blood, a feet I'm sure none of us would be willing to undergo, I think he deserves to keep it, at least for now. He is in medical bay getting fixed up. On the bright side, we now know that the sub-dermal injection system works and is quite reliable in knocking the pony out as cold as stone. We almost lost a score of days of research because of this pony's irrational behavior, and I don't want to try and go through this again. This morning I said I have no qualms about the morality of this experiment, but that was before this poor stallion's deteriorated state drove him to self mutilation. I don't want to even think about what he might do if released into the public without proper treatment, much less... I can't finish this recording. Hey, somepony, get over here and finish the log, I'm going to check on the patient!" With that the mic went silent for a few moments, only the sound of hooves and the murmur of distant conversation telling Keen that it hadn't already ended. Eventually a pony did come up to the mic, recounting what few details the other had not before ending the nineteenth day of the now more disturbing experiment.

"I take back what I said about stopping the F.R.I's experiments," Lodestone said in a low, threatening tone, "If I get the chance, I'll level that buildings and incinerate the rubble." He said through gritted teeth. Keen nodded slowly, more so caught up in her own thoughts than paying any real attention.

Risk woke up in his cell, much as he had for all those days previous. He immediately remembered what had happened, and looked at his foreleg, surprised it to be healed, with no trace of the wound. Looking to the wall, his cheeks flushed slightly as he looked upon the most beautiful unicorn mare he had ever seen looking back at him. Her coat was a deep crimson, while her mane was a bright red. From his angle, he couldn't see her cutie mark, but he honestly didn't care, he had company for the first time since his arrival in the box.

"W-who are you?" He asked dumbly as he stared it stupefied admiration of the mare's beauty and grace. Her long flowing mane, her thin frame, that wasn't so thin to be unhealthy, but simply slender, and her eyes, a gentle tan, that gave a motherly vibe. "What's your name?" Risk asked again, looking the mare over subconsciously, which caused her to shy away with a smile, a lighter patch of fur on her cheek telling him she was blushing. "How did you get in here?" He tried again.

"You painted me." She said with a light giggle that made his heart flutter in excitement. Not only was she beautiful, but her voice was lovely, more lovely than any other voice he had ever heard.

"I... painted you?" He echoed in disbelief. He had occasionally dabbled in painting, but he had never made something so beautiful. "What's your name?" e asked again.

"I don't know." She admitted with a blush as she hid behind her mane, something Risk found exceptionally cute. "I never had a name before."

"How about... Brushstroke?" He offered hopefully. The mare looked back to him, her eyes glowing at the name.

"I love it. Brushstroke." She said the name to herself, smiling more as the name rolled off hr tongue. Risk couldn't help but smile too, this beautiful mare had just complemented his naming skills, had just complimented HIM, something no other mare besides his mother ever did. "What's your name?"

"Calculated Risk." He replied automatically.

"I like it, it sounds adventurous." She commented. "Where are we?" She asked, looking at the whiteness around them. Risk didn't reply, simply gazing upon the new found beauty that inhabited the room with him. "Are you alright?" She asked, looking at the dumbfounded stallion.

"I've been alone for so long, it's nice to have somepony in here with me finally." He admitted. "I lost count how many days have passed a while ago." He added, looking downcast as he stared at the floor in front of him, the white seeming to not b quite as painful any more, a welcome relief. "I can't remember the last time I saw a pony before you."

"It'll be alright. Even if we can't get out, at least we have each other to keep company with. Neither of us will have to be alone ever again." Brushstroke stated firmly, a smile spreading across her face. Risk nodded, returning the smile gratefully.

Keen and Lodestone began to set up camp for the night amongst the cacti once again. Keen wasn't much in the mood to do anything, though she did try and help by cutting up some cacti, skinning them from some food. Lodestone was tasked with building a fire out of their meager resources, as well as finding anything else to be used as food. As the sun slowly began to inch behind the horizon, the sounds of a great wind began to fill the area as a sandstorm rolled in, something Lodestone noted as odd.

"The wild magics of this area can get wild at times, but I have yet to see a sandstorm as powerful as that sounds get this far out of the shifting sands." He noted, looking around for any sigh of where the wall of crystalline soil might be, only to freeze as he spotted something else. "Keen, we need to get out of here." He whispered. "But we can't panic and we can't gallop as fast as possible, we just need to move."

"I thought we were bedding down so we can have enough energy to do just that." Keen countered as she took a look at the fire that was starting to give a bit of warmth now that it wasn't struggling to survive, only to watch as Lodestone shoved sand over it, killing it without a second of hesitation. "H-hey, what about staving off the cool of the nighttime desert?" She asked, only to have a hoof slammed into her mouth as Lodestone motioned with his nose towards the sky. Above them a gigantic black mass moved as one, looking much like a cloud, which Keen mistook it for when she looked at it, only to look again as the glint of something shinny within caught her eye.

"I had hoped they were patrolling farther to the south of their territory at this time, but it seems we aren't as lucky as I had hoped for." Lodestone muttered as he moved his hoof back to the ground with a sigh. "We need to work fast to get hidden." He stated. "Get the cloth fencing from my bag, I have an idea." Keen quickly complied, getting the cloth fence from his pack.

"What... who are they?" Keen asked as she made sure she had gotten all of it out of his bag. Lodestone didn't reply for several moments as he got things together, making Keen think he hadn't heard. "Lodestone?" Keen whispered.

"This desert, for as bad as it might seen, is ripe of opportunity for some creatures. Stymphalian Bandits just so happen to be one of those groups. Let me tell you, they aren't nice to anyone or anything that isn't them." Keen looked up at the now glittering swarm as it drew nearer and nearer.

"What are they, where do they come from?" Keen asked, still unable to make out individuals. "Are they griffins?" Lodestone shook his head.

"They are a type of bird, a killing type to be exact. They used to live elsewhere, though nopony has even been able to tell where. What we do know is that they were forced out by a pack of Diamond Dogs. They live in a swamp farther south currently. Some ponies have tried to get at their nest, but between the sentinels and the fact the ground won't support anything more than a feather, nopony has made any progress." Lodestone explained as he took the cloth and threw it over the bags before covering it with sand. "They don't go far into the plains since the Saddle Arabians have enough resources to take them out should they, but they still terrorize the lands between the cacti forests and the lower plains."

"They are just birds right? Even if they were smart, how would they be a problem for anypony except farmers?" Keen asked as he set up some of the cloth fences to form a box.

"Well, no matter how stupid this sounds, they are a bit more than just birds. They are almost as big as swans, are fast, have bronze coated beaks, and feathers that are somehow sharp, and not just sharp, but as sharp as any sword you can find, if not more." Lodestone explained as he covered the box of cloth with sand. "Not only are they well versed in metallurgy, but know how to use it to deadly effect, and without any remorse. In a word, they're bad news." Keen nodded, looking back up to notice that she could start to make out a few of the birds farther away from the flock. "I suggest you get inside." Lodestone said, drawing her attention once more. He was lifting a flap to the box. "I need to finish out here, and I can't risk both of us out in the open. They are mostly colorblind, so if we can blend in to the area even slightly, we should be fine." Keen nodded in response, sliding inside the cramped space.

After a few moments, Lodestone joined her inside the small shelter as the sound of wings beating above grew louder and louder to the point of being deafening. After a few deafening moments as the ponies held their hooves to their ears, the sound stopped except for the occasional rustle of feathers. Keen ignored the slight ringing in her ears as she tried to listen to the conversation that she could hear a bit through the sand and shelter.

"They 'er righ' 'ere, Ah swar!" The first said defensively. "They mus' of 'indin 'emselves ner bah." The sound of something heavy jumping about on one of the cacti around them hold her that the bird was looking for them as best it could.

"Ah'rn Feat'ers, 'ou 'ave ne'er been un tuh flaah's of fanceh, 'ut Ah cannut seh a singel poneh, er enetang fer t'at mahter, fer mahls." Another said as he rustled his feathers. "Yu shur yu shaw i' righ'? Cold it 'ave been a miragee?"

"Naw, i' twer as real as me feat'ers Ah know t'at t'ey 'er righ' 'ere!" The first shot back. "Ah may be ol' bu' ah t'aint t'at ol' t'at Ah cannut tell a miragee ferm a poneh."

"May'e t'ey moved an' 'er 'ere, jus' nut any'mer." A third offered. "Ah'rn Feat'ers t'is our greates' 'unter, Ah 'ave me doubts t'at he mistuk sometin fer sometin else. Teh day t'at 'appens is teh day we ne'd tuh give ourse'vs to teh Sheddle Ahadians." Keen tensed as something extremely heavy landed on her back.

"Ey! T'ince 'en di' we 'ave dunes d'is far out ferm teh desert?" The bird on here back asked. The other birds fell silent. Suddenly a wing lashed through the cloth beside her, the razor sharp feathers making quick work of the cloth. Keen covered her mouth to ensure she would yelp as several of the birds let out squawks and whistles. "T'is ainut ner dune! T'is a tent covered up in san'." Several more wings sliced through the cloth as if it was just air. Keen closed her eyes, trying to shut out her surroundings, to not notice the death.

"STOP!" Lodestone shouted, rolling out of the cover to Keen's terror. "I give myself up!" He said, presenting himself to the birds, who stopped attacking the sand covered shelter. Keen could easily see him through a whole in the fabric, though she still couldn't make out any of the birds. "Don't hurt me, please." He pleaded.

"Eh, t'is a flahin poneh!" One of the birds noted.

"What ya doin' out 'ere, litteh poneh?" the one called Ah'rn... Iron Feathers asked. "Yer a long weh ferm yer citeh." He pointed out. Lodestone looked past Keen, towards the bird. "Are ya out 'ere to fahnd our nests, eh?"

"No, I already know where your nests are." Lodestone replied. "They are farther south in a marsh. I'm currently trying to go out of my way to avoid going to it." The bird let out a squawking laugh in response.

"Ya be righ' abou' t'where i' t'is, bu' yer wrong about ya avoidin' i'." Iron Feathers replied, almost mockingly. "Yer gonna ge' a gran tour of teh place, litteh poneh. Ah'm sure teh chicks will be 'appy to see ya." Suddenly another bird swooped down, grabbing Lodestone by the barrel before lifting off with a few swift beets of its wings. Keen had barely gotten the sight of it before it had left, though the brownish-orange beak which shot a shaft of light into her eyes told her that these birds did indeed coat their beaks with bronze. All at once, the flock of Stymphalian birds took off, shooting up into the sky in another deafening chorus. Keen crouched there for what seemed like an eternity with her hooves against her ears, only hoping that they be gone soon enough.

The sound of wings beating finally faded out to the point where Keen once again could lower her hooves from her ears. All around her, the ground was, with no little surprise, dotted with bird excrement, though the pile of sand that concealed her and Lodestone's bags remained untouched. Keen lifted both bags onto her back, picking up the piece of cloth and stowing it away before looking up to the sky to see where the birds had flown to. Sure enough, it was to the south, towards the marsh. Keen took a breath in and charged in pursuit.

Chapter 10: Shimmering Coasts

Keen and Lodestone eventually entered the plains, three Stymphalian hatchlings wadling behind them, happily munching on some desert mice they had found. Keen and Lodestone had been able to get them down from the tree using a tree bark platform that Lodestone lifted up and brought down, each time bringing one of the fluffy little guys down onto a small raft Keen had made from sticks and reeds.

Though there were multiple things Keen could've been thinking about, the recording Lodestone and her had listened to was at the forefront. The researchers had treated his leg, the obvious problem and the easiest one to fix, but had let the true problem continue to fester and corrupt the poor pony from the inside out. He was suffering psychologically, a fact so obvious that Keen, only having the recording, could tell it. He had willingly cut himself to get at his own blood to use as paint, which he then used to make a picture of a pony on the wall, and what more, the ponies had completely foregone sanitation and had allowed the blood painting to remain. Keen hated these ponies. No, she didn't hate these ponies, the level of emotion she felt towards them was vastly different from anger, from hatred. A feeling that surpassed mere expression through words, but she couldn't let that consume her just yet. She had things that needed doing.

"I figure that we might be able to take the express train when we arrive." Lodestone said, breaking Keen from her thoughts. "It will cost more, but it will be better for getting there in any amount of decent time. Normal train might take about three to four days to make it back to Fillydelphia, while as express will have us there by tomorrow." He reasoned, obtaining a nod from the half listening Keen. "We could also order a purple manticore amulet while on board." He mused.

"Yeah, sure..." Keen muttered as she continued walking, enveloped in her own type of train, though it made her no quicker traveling.

"You aren't listening." Lodestone chuckled. Keen finally broke from her thoughts, looking at him curiously. "Look, one thing we need to know is how many bits we have so we can tell if we can go express or if we'll go standard fare. I got about a hundred twenty bits in my pack which can cover an express ticket with some change, or almost two standard rides, but then we don't know how much it might cost us to take our little bird friends with us. How much you got?"

"Let me check, I don't know if the F.R.I. took a donation from my belongings or not." She stated as she came to a halt, setting her bags down, as the Stymphalians grouping around her. Opening the bags and checking the usual stop for bits, she was happy to find there was SOMETHING still inside of it. Taking the small pouch out, she loosened the strap and began counting the coins inside. "I got... oh my, a lot less than I imagined." Counting them again, she came to the startling conclusion that her recent eating habits had broken her bank quite thoroughly. "Forty-six bits." Lodestone sighed as he readjusted his plans for their rail mounted travel.

"Well, we can get two standards in a private car or one express ride and a standard fare, though, once again, we don't know about the Stymphalians, or if they are even allowed into trains. I vote we buy the express and the standard fare so that you can get back home in time to do something about the F.R.I. before they can do more cover up than what they already have."

"But you have as much right to taking the express rial as do, why don't you go instead?" Keen asked the peculiar stallion. "You've already done a great deal, why not just take this little back?" She continued as she placed her coin pouch bag in her bag before placing the bags back on her back.

"To correct you, in this case, you have far more right to go on the express since you have been after the F.R.I. for a bit longer than I have, and the fact you have a client who told you to get on their case. You know things about these ponies I don't, and so you really are the better suited to get there first." He explained. "Now the majority of this cost is coming out of my pocket, so I'm telling you that I want you to take express." Keen gave him a look that screamed 'Are you sure you want to play that card', but the stallion powered through it. "I know this isn't much, but where I'm from, to refuse the gift is to refuse the giver, a veritable insult to the pony who offers you something, so if you can't accept my gift for the sake of it being a gift, accept it in compliance with my home's customs." Keen stared the pony down for a bit, but eventually released a sigh as she walked passed him.

"Fine, I'll comply with your tradition or whatever it is, but just know that otherwise I would force you to take express as a pseudogift in return for all the help you have already given me in pursuit of this goal." She muttered as he pressed on, Lodestone bringing up the rear with a smile on his face, not so much in triumph, but more in satisfied relief.

"It isn't the best food they've, who ever they are, have given me, but it is still better than starving in this box." Risk commented. "There's already so much pain in this room; I don't think starvation should even be a possibility for whoever is doing this to inflict on the victim of every other harm they have inflicted to this far." Brushstroke nodded solemnly in response.

"This place could use some decorations..." She mused, looking around at the white. Over the past few hours that Risk had spent with this mare had slowly allowed his eyes to tolerate the white of the room, to the point that he only squinted because of the light that reflected from it. Come to think of it, it was strange that there was light in this room at all since, for what he could see, there were no candles, or even one of those new ,fancy, light bulbs. Risk figured it was either the cushions enchanted with luminosity, or a spell that simply made light appear in the air without a general source. "Maybe we could request some drapery to be used over the corners, and maybe a throw rug." She offered hopefully. Risk shook his head sadly, an emotion caused more because of disappointing the lovely mare than because he knew it wouldn't work.

"If they had our comfort in mind, they wouldn't have locked us up in here in the first place. Besides, to which department of the white box would you file your request forum for new decorations? The left or right walls? Or maybe the ministry of ground based affairs?" He jokes, causing the lovely mare to giggle, a sound that made the hurt stallion feel all the better. His isolation for all those days, now finally broken by the most lovely company of all; he couldn't be happier in his current situation, that was, unless the ones behind this would provide some drapery and maybe a throw rug.

The capitol of Saddle Arabia was a bustling coastal city, a massive port opening up into the bay where ships, both massive and small, unloaded and loaded various goods in a constant stream of motion. The ponies and Saddle Arabians, along with a minority comprised of every other race of creature, seemed to move in an ever well maintained clockwork, weaving through and threading gaps that seemed improbable, or in the very least, impractical. Keen, Lodestone, and the Stymphalians strode up to the train station, which was as equally busy as the port further down the coastal valley, though now there were only three tracks available, with only one train truly sticking out from the rest, namely for its more streamline design, and the fact that there were no ponies witched to it, or any visible means through which an engines exhaust would escape, due in part to the new design that ran on arcane energies, a rather new, and highly expensive, method of producing power. As they entered, several of the ponies and Saddle Arabians around gave them concerned, curious, and any other type of readable emotion out there, more than likely in reference to their bird followers.

"Alright, I'll just go over and buy the tickets real quick. Just head on over to the platform that is boarding the express." Lodestone instructed before trotting off to the ticket booth, waiting in line behind three others. Keen found her way over to her desired platform, and sat down, admiring the architecture of the building as the Stymphalians plopped down on the floor before her, quickly falling to sleep. It had an interesting blend of eastern and western elements, which gave it a feel that fitted it with neither side, causing it to stand out from the rest of the city with its brick face with limestone accents. Mosaics of broken tiles made into marvelous portraits of the royals of Saddle Arabia meeting with Celestia and Luna at different times, with the Arabian monarchs changing in each, while the blue and white alicorns remained the ever same, though ten of the portraits contained only Celestia, most likely during the time of the lunar princesses exile, a suspicion confirmed when the first repeat portrait appeared, with slightly older Arabian monarchs and the distinct presence of Luna. Whoever had made these had taken obvious care to portray the ponies in both the most faithful, and yet, most artistically pleasing way possible.

Keen was broken from her thoughts when Lodestone trotted up to her, giving her her boarding pass before moving to his own platform, taking two of the Stymphalians with him. The platform led up to the train where earth ponies were strapped to harnesses that connected them to the train, the lowest priced ride, Keen observed. She almost stood up and ran over to Lodestone, telling him to switch trains, not wanting the stallion that had showed her so much kindness to that point go through a hardship for her benefit, but as she did, the stallion and the two avian menaces climbed onto the train just as the ponies began to strain against their harnesses, attempting to overcome the trains massive inertia. Realizing it was too late to switch around, Keen sat back down, deciding to observe the train station a bit more as she waited for her train to be ready to board.

Chapter 11: A Train for One

Keen boarded the train, quickly moving to her car number with the final Stymphalian in tow, hoping to arrive before the train pulled out, which if she didn't, would leave her stranded in the wrong area. Opening the last door between her and her destination, she heard the shrill whistle as the conductor declared it time to leave. Keen opened the car door, closing the one she had just left from, she backed quickly into the car, closing the door behind her. She turned, closing her eyes as she gave a sigh of relief, having made it just in time for the train to leave, a cosmic mercy in the sea of misfortune and odd turns she had thus far been through. Opening her eyes, she gazed out at the empty train car. Fearing the worse, Keen checked the number beside the door, and the number on her ticket, only to find they matched. As she looked around, attempting to figure out what might have happened, she noticed an odd marking on the bottom of her ticket. There, on the bottom left corner, was the seal of the train master, giving her permission to the request to board a private car. Keen lifted the ticket to the window, looking at the seal to ensure it was authentic, and not some cheap trick, she noticed some writing that didn't appear on the side of the ticket facing her. With no small amount of curiosity, Keen flipped the paper over to discover a mouth written note.

'Dear Keen Eye,

You probably noticed by now that you are receiving a private car. Before you wonder if that action was necessary on my part, I will tell you it was. If my memory serves me correctly, we got through the nineteenth day on the case you are studying. Last night I woke up and checked the tapes over in a moment of boredom, and saw that there were thirty days. You have eleven days left to listen to, and before you get to Fillydelphia to confront the F.R.I. you will need the whole story, and I doubt other passengers would be so understanding, and so I got you a private car. Take the time you have to finish the recordings and take it to those monsters.'

Keen lowered the note, quickly taking the tape player out, setting it on the ground with the self of tapes. She'd not let this sacrifice on his part go wasted. If the length of the recordings held out, she should be able to make it to the end before reaching Fillydelphia station. Pressing the play button on the twentieth day, she was met with the sickening voice of the researcher mare, though now it almost made her smile seeing as the voice was more than obviously drained of almost all energy, an apt start to the punishment this mare should receive for what she condoned.

"Day twenty of Project Solidarity... wait no, I mean Solitude... that's not right either. You know what, if you've been listening to these recordings, by now you've memorized the stupid project's name, whether it be Solitude, Saucer, Salamander, or Sauce in a Bucket. The sauce-ject has continued to talk to himself, personifying the mare painting to an extreme and unhealthy level. It appeared he realized what she, no, what it was during their... his first conversation. You know what, I'm dropping the whole pronoun game. For as much as I care the pony has developed dissociative identity disorder and now has fashioned two ponies from one in his own mind, and so, for all intents and purposes, as well as intensive purposes, I will refer to them as such: THEM; as in two separate entities. So, they have been jabbering on and on through the night, which has done nothing for our already understaffed crew. As a side note, three more ponies left and we have decided to permanently leave the access door leading to the pod open... you know, I don't know if those two clauses, or whatever other grammatical jargon they are, fit together as a coercive... cohesive whole, but what the hay, I'm shooting from the hip at this point. To attempt to continue on with whatever train wreck of a line of thought I had going on, the pony has stopped his silent streak in the most annoying way possible. Under other circumstances, I might have asked the higher ups about the throw rug idea, but currently I am too annoyed and too tired to be bothered with it, not to mention I already know the answer. SWITCHING TO IN ROOM AUDIO!" With that a click sounded, followed by the stallions conversation with his impressive female imitation voice.

"I don't know, maybe the rug out to be a gray tone, to compliment to white walls. Sure the color is obtrusive, but it is the primary color of the room, and I doubt they'll give us a bucket of paint to throw over the walls." The more feminine voice reasoned.

"I'm just pointing out a colored rug that goes beyond the gray scale will really pop, besides, the sink is already gray enough as it is, we need variation." The stallion's normal voice replied.

"What we need is consistency in design. If we get a color far too bright, it won't mesh with the already present colors, and then it will just be an eyesore to look at." The mare-ish voice explained.

"Alright, you're the designer of the place, so if we can, we'll get a throw rug with you specifications. Now how about the drapes, shouldn't they be a more vibrant shade to liven up to the room a bit?" Another click interrupted the two ponies continued discussion over decorations that weren't coming. The speakers once again relayed the voice of the tired, worn out, and quite grumpy mare as she droned on about the nuisance of the two constantly talking, causing Keen to smile even more, a touch of maniacal schadenfreude coming to her.

Keen stood up, walking to the nearest window as the player rewound the tape with the same high pitched whir as always, and sound Keen almost found relaxing. As she watched out of the window, her train rushed by the train pulled by the ponies that had left almost a full half hour before them, leaving them a speck in the distance before too long. Keen look back towards the distant train, the only other pony who hadn't been deemed insane who had a gripe with the F.R.I. that they could remember, a realization that pushed Keen back to the tape player, switching the tapes in a hurry as time seemed to be marching ever faster. The next tape quickly began to play the same sad tune as before, filled with the whining and complaining of the researcher mare.

"If it weren't for the constant reassurance of the higher ups that this project has real scientific value to all of Equestria, I would've abandoned ship long ago." The mare confessed. "It is only know I ask myself this important question: How do I know they aren't just pulling one over on us? How do I know, how do any of us know, that they aren't lying through their teeth and are at this very moment laughing their butts off at us as we scramble about on the day by day, thinking we are being important, when all we are accomplishing for a certainty is teleporting food into a cell and teleporting a plate out? How do we know WE aren't the real experiment? Easy answer: we don't, and that stinks on ice. Our little test subject has continued blabbering on with his new pal, miss blood-stain-on-the-wall. Something, I continue to maintain is more annoying than educational. We had already asserted he lost his waffles a few days ago, and yet we continue pressing on in the vain hope he'll do something interesting for a change. Either way, I got nothing more to say that would maintain the consistency of never swearing, so I'm switching to in room audio. Have fun listening to another pony yammer on until the sun turns cold." Again the click of the audio switching, again followed by the stallion talking to himself, which was again followed by a marginally more disgruntled mare than in the previous part of the recording containing her owe so lovely voice.

"I should take the case on how these ponies sleep at night next, that might be even more difficult." Keen joked to herself as she waited for the tape to rewind. As she did, a pony with a food cart appeared with the shimmering sparks of a teleportation spell floating around her and the cart of goods beside her.

"Anything to eat or drink ma'am? " He asked politely. "I have complimentary sodas and a small snack bag, though everything else will be made charge for."

"I'll take a Ginger Ale, please." Keen replied. The stewardess nodded, removing the canned beverage and setting it down beside Keen.

"Peanuts or crackers, ma'am." The pony asked, holding a bag of each in her magic. Keen quickly pointed to the peanuts before switching out tapes as the pony once again vanished. Opening her drink and snack, Keen began the next tape, only to find it directly skipping to the in room audio without giving the lead mare a moment to explain anything previous.

"Here, you can have some of my food. I don't really need it all to be honest." The stallion stated. "It isn't that bad, really." Keen could only guess he was trying to feed his painting, then again, he might be trying to feed the dust mite that had made it into his cell.

"I don't want to impose on you any unnecessary hardships just so I can be at comfort." The mare intoned her protest. "You've been in this situation far longer than I. You need it more than I do."

"That's just it, I have been here for longer, but that only means I've had better meals than usual for several days and weeks, meaning I'm in better shape than you." The stallion pushed. "I can deal without half of this meal anyway. Come on, I insist." Before the mare could reply, the audio jumped again, the voice of a better rested stallion coming over the speakers.

"Researcher Vile has been removed from the team after an incident this morning involving her spewing profanities at the heads of the institute while making morning notes, a clear violation of regulations. Many of the ponies here stood up for her in face of opposition, citing lack of rest and overly large burden placed on the mare as lead researcher of this project, which constitutes a major leap from being the assistant morning researcher. The subject continues his monologues, though at this time we cannot ascertain whether this is bad for his mental health, or a healthy release from the tensions he has suffered. Only time will tell. This is the end of day twenty-two and of night researcher log."

Keen stepped off the train at Fillydelphia, charging out of the station as quickly as possible, her course charted straight to her office. The streets were crowded, much as they should be, a welcome relief from the last memories she had of a place that looked like this one. No matter how hard she might try, the image of the empty Fillydelphia from Project Cat and Mouse would never leave her. During her trip, she had listened to all of the tapes except the last day, feeling it more proper to do so in her office, not to mention the train was two minutes away from the station when the previous tape had ended.

Charging up the stairs, Keen moved into her office, surprised to find police officials scouring over every detail of the room. She stood stock still at the doorway, looking over the ponies, who each in turn turned to look at her in equal amounts of surprise. The pony she recognized as the chief from her visit to the station all those days ago, really, had it only been just a few days, stepped forward.

"Miss Keen Eye?" She asked, looking the mare over as if she hadn't been expected.

"What's happening? Why is my office the center of what look like the search of the century?" Keen Eye questioned right back, looking over the three other ponies besides the chief in the room.

"We are looking into a missing pony report, to be precise, the report of your disappearance." The police chief replied, "Would you care to explain where you've been the past few days?" Keen blinked a few times, attempting to process the information, until something finally clicked in her head.

"A few days ago I had been working the case I had been given, when I became the subject to an experiment, though to what ends I'm not sure, but I do know the perpetrators." Keen stated. "I can make a full statement, though I do believe the station is a better option." The captain looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "And if my testimony doesn't prove to be enough, I have another pony that will be arriving in a few days who can back up my story."

"Very well, we' take you down to the station for a statement." The police mare replied. "Alright ponies, let's get going." The other police ponies formed up around Keen, providing a protective barrier as they began moving through the complex. The group traveled in silence for a good while, leaving the building behind and making it past two city blocks before Keen began to speak.

"So, who reported me missing? That is, if you can divulge the information to me." Keen asked. The group stopped as the crossing sign on the other side of the street went red.

"A friend of yours... let me see, Cherry Blossom I think was her name. She got the report to us about... I'd say three days ago." The chief replied. Keen froze in place, her eyes growing wide.

"I don't know a Cherry Blossom." Keen said in almost a whisper. "This... this isn't good. Chief, we need to move, NOW." She emphasized. The police pony looked back at her, and as if on cue, a dart slammed into the pony's neck, laying her low on the sidewalk to the multiple screams of ponies around them. Keen quickly traced the line of fire, spotting a pony reloading an dart into a modified pressure sprayer. Keen shot away, zipping past the crosswalk, moving in irrational patterns, occasionally hearing the clink of a dart hitting something around her. Ducking into an alleyway, she found herself facing a brown earth pony wearing a security uniform with the F.R.I. logo on the sleeve.

"Halt!" the pony shouted as she fully realized what was happening, but instead of slowing down, Keen barged straight into the pony, knocking her to the ground. Keen quickly reared up and slammed her hooves into the back of his head, knocking him out cold. Keen looked around for a hiding spot from the sniper, but then realized, above her were multiple laundry lines filled with various clothes set out to dry. It was a rare sight, but one she more than even was thankful for. Looking back to the unconscious pony again, an idea quickly began to form.

Chapter 12: A Challenge for a Few

Keen walked into the Fillydelphia Research Institute building, her head held high as she walked with the utmost confidence. She was surprised to see how much she looked like one of the security ponies, much less sound almost the same. She had briefly made a stop by a cosmetics store to pick up some supplies, which allowed her to obtain the pony's same cutie mark. She look the part, sounded the part, and, if she could be a bit lucky, act the part. The ponies around her didn't even seem to take notice of her, a welcome relief, one that she had expected. She scanned the area for anything that might guide her to where experiments might be done, when suddenly a hoof was placed on her back, causing her to jump.

"Sorry if I scared you, but you just weren't responding when I called you." The stallion said. Keen turned around to look at the stallion, doing her best to act natural, or in this case, slightly embarrassed.

"S-sorry, I was just... I guess I just wasn't here, sorry." She said with an awkward smile, hoping against all hope that she was acting with some semblance of normality for her part. The stallion cocked his head, looking at Keen scrutinously, as if trying to see something that wasn't, yet was, there.

"Carmel, are you alright? You're looking a bit off today." He asked, looking the mare up and down. "Does this have anything to do with last night? I'm sorry if that was uncomfortable for you."

"N-no, last night was fine... it's just, well..." Keen scrambled for something to say. "I just got a lot on my mind, that's all." The stallion nodded, a soft smile forming across his features.

"I know it must be hard, you know, being in your first serious relationship and all. I just want you to know that if you need some space, or if you need somepony to talk to, you just need to tell me and I'll be fine either way." The stallion consoled. Keen blushed fiercely, lowering her head away from the stallion, only beginning to understand what was happening in the mare whose life she had hijacked.

"I'm fine, and..." Keen stopped for a moment, thinking about her next step, "I'd like to get to know you even better." She said, hoping to the high heavens that the mare she was playing would be pleased, the mare who was know incarcerated under Keen's name, though the official records weren't processed at the moment, an action Keen had requested.

"That's good to hear. How about lunch this afternoon? I know this great pizza place out on North Broadstreet. Do you think you can make it?" He asked hopefully.

"I think I might be able to, I don't think I have any conflicts." Keen ventured, hoping more than ever she was right about this choice. The stallion's expression seemed to glow even brighter than before.

"Great, I'll see you there then." He replied, only to step in for a hug. "I love you, don't forget that." He whispered into Keen's ear. The stallion smiled as he moved away, going back to work. Keen stared after the stallion, glad that he hadn't noticed how she had tensed up, though she was glad he had hugged her since now she knew his name because of his name tag dangling in front of her face the whole time the embrace had lasted. Looking away with a blush she moved on. Her new name was Carmel... something, or maybe it was just Carmel. Checking her I.D. for the first time, something she kicked herself mentally for not doing before. Caramel Swirl was her full name, and much to her relief, a home address was included on the card. Looking around, she couldn't find anything to tell her where to go, so instead she walked about the main lobby area, acting as if she was doing something of some importance.

Keen sat across from Chocolate Ganache, Caramel Swirl's coltfriend. The two ponies were obviously made for each other in at least their names, and Keen could only hope that Caramel would be alright that she was advancing the relationship in her absence. Keen found it interesting that she was eating at a restaurant she would if she weren't undercover, though the candles and otherwise dim lighting with quiet surroundings was a great amount difference from the usual. It appeared to be evening inside the room, even though it was a quarter past twelve.

"Caramel," Ganache began, "I know that we are only just beginning to learn about each other, but I already feel as if we've been together for a life time, and I am willing to go on for another one if you'd allow me." Keen looked away, blushing, something she was getting a lot of practice doing.

"I," Keen started, her gut wrenching as she tried to think of something Caramel would do, "I guess you could say I have much the same feelings. I can barely remember a time we weren't together. It just... feels right." Ganache nodded with a smile.

"It's hard to believe that it has only been three months since we first met. I can't believe it took me until yesterday to try and step up our relationship." He said with a wide smile. A pony walked in, much to Keen's relief, carrying a platter of pizza with her. Keen recognized the mare, she had been a waitress in the restaurant since the first time she came here. "Is the service always this... romantic?" Keen asked with a chuckle. She knew the answer, but she needed to keep up appearances.

"We do this for special occasions." The mare replied with a smile. "Usually we provide a more open environment, but your buck here said it was going to be a special meal. If you need anything, just call and I'll be here to assist in a matter of seconds." Ganache gave a pleasant nod. The waitress pony soon walk back out, leaving the two along once again.

"I hope that doesn't make you feel uncomfortable." Ganache said. Keen looked back to him, wanting to scream how uncomfortbale she was with this whole situation, but then she'd have to admit she wasn't Caramel. She wanted to enjoy this for Caramel's sake, but really, she felt more lie she was intruding.

"No, it's fine." Keen said with a smile. "Everything is lovely." Ganache smiled in satisfaction. "Oh, I just remembered something." Keen said, hoping to redirect any thoughts of the romantic persuasion that the stallion across the small table might have as she picked up a slice of pizza. "A few days from now an old friend of mine will be coming to visit."

"Oh really, whose this friend of yours?" Ganache asked happily.

"A pony I met back in grade school, by the name of Lodestone. We used to study together on long weekends. He always had an easier time with geography, so I kind of got his help so that I'd keep a slightly good grade average." Keen said, hoping that he wouldn't call her bluff.

"Sounds like you to were pretty close in your time." He muttered morosely. Keen looked at him sternly, yet lovingly, or as lovingly as she could manage with how she really felt about the situation.

"Chocolate Ganache, are you jealous?" She questioned, smirking at the stallion. "Lodestone was a friend, a study helper, nothing more. If anything, I took advantage of him." She lifted Ganache's head to have him look into her eyes. "You are the stallion I love, he was just a colt that was good a geology in a time when I needed help with said subject." Ganache smiled weakly. Keen felt forced to show him she was honest, and so planted a kiss on his lips, which caused his eyes to shoot wide open, while a smile appeared.

"I think that's the first time you kissed me, and not the other way around." He commented.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because if you think for a moment Lodestone is competition, you are going to get smothered." Keen teased, hoping he wouldn't try and prove her.

"Well then, he is so much competition, I don't think I can deal with him." He commented slyly, causing Keen to mentally face hoof. Keen leaned up to the stallion with a sly smile of her own.

"That's just cheating." She joked before giving the stallion another kiss, only to find him wrapping his forehooves around her, bringing her in for an embrace. Keen did her best not to tense up or push away. After a few moments, several too many for Keen, the stallion pulled back.

"I hope that wasn't too presumptuous of me." Ganache fretted, now taking his turn to turn away and blush. Keen, more than ever, wanted to break character and slap the stallion across the cheek, no, scratch that, she wanted to give him a roundhouse, but instead she gave him a smile.

"The hug was unexpected, but I guess we can advance as fast as you'd like." Keen replied, wanting oh so much to deck herself for saying something ENCOURAGING to this stallions attitude. If she had been watching two other ponies doing it, she might feel a bit awkward, but at least she'd be able to feel happy for them. "B-but... maybe not it a public establishment." She finished in a near whisper as she noticed several silhouettes outside of the curtain that looked distinctly as if they were trying to sneak a peek.

"Let them watch." Ganache replied playfully. That line was so cliche that Keen would've rolled her eyes if it had been used in a story or a soap opera, but now she felt fearful for what the stallion might intend. Fortunately he returned to his food, keeping his eyes on Keen the whole time as he munched on the pizza. Keen took a slice, taking a small bite as if she didn't know what to expect, though she very much did. She did her best impression of her own expression when she had her first piece, her eyes going wide in wonder as the flavors that never got old.

"This is really good." She commented with her smile growing. "I'm not sure I ever had something this good before." Ganache nodded in response."

"I know, it's great. It's a family recipe by what I hear. They've made it like this for the past seventy years or so." He replied. "Honestly, I only just started eating here two weeks ago." As he finished, a mare came through the curtain, a mare that Keen knew all too well.

"Keen, is that you?" Gin began, a smile breaking out across her face. "You're back! Oh my, how I missed you." She said as she trotted up to the table. "Where've you been, and who's this fine looking stallion you're having fine dining with?" Ganache looked to Keen in confusion.

"Another one of your friends?" He asked. "Wait... back? She hasn't left town for months." Gin looked at Ganache curiously, as if he was speaking another language.

"Excuse me," Keen broke in, "But who are you?" Keen hated herself for estranging her friend the way she did, but as Caramel, she hadn't met this mare, a feat she found hard to accept.

"Wait, what? What do you mean who am I?" Gin asked, looking back to Keen. "Keen, it's me, Gin, Gin Rummy? Don't tell me you forgot all about me." She pleaded with Keen, something that broke Keen's heart to see, but she couldn't break character on top of it.

"I... uh, I think you got me confused with another pony." Keen said, adjusting her expression to show as much apprehension and confusion as possible. "My name's Caramel Swirl. It's... interesting meeting you Miss Gin." Gin just stared at the mare she thought she knew, and indeed she did, slack jawed and everything.

"Are you sure you don't have a twin sister named Keen Eye who works as a Private Eye? I mean, she works... well worked, right across the street." Gin Rummy pressed, desperately hopping for something.

"The name does ring a bell, but she isn't might sister unless we were separated at birth, which I highly doubt." Keen replied. "I suppose this pony is currently out of town?"

"Yes, she is, and under suspicious circumstances too." Gin replied. "She was on a case of some sort, and then there were some sounds from her office, and when the janitor can to check up on her, he saw a pegasus jumping out of the window with a bundle on his back and no Keen Eye in sight." Gin recounted, the scenario making a great deal of sense to Keen with what she had experienced. "The F.P.D. says they think it might have been a kidnapping, and that if it was, there were certain prime suspects, but I have yet to hear anything from them. I'm just so worried about her. I just hope it's a misunderstanding and that she'll just turn up one day having just taken a vacation without warning, though what the janitor saw makes that notion a bit less likely."

"Oh, well I hope you find your friend." Keen said, feeling exceedingly sorry for the pegasus mare. "I'll tell you if I come across anything, alright. Just... take care and don't fret too much about it, it won't help her come back an faster, you'll just have to be patient." Keen said in the best comforting tone she could manage. Gin nodded slowly, tears forming in her eyes as she moved away from the two. Keen mentally kicked herself for not remembering Gin worked Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. After gin had left the area, Ganache leaned in closer to Keen.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't the name of the pony the institute took in for aid in that project a few days ago Keen Eye?" Ganache asked in a whisper. Keen looked over towards another mare's lover ,tapping her chin in thought. "Wait a tick... isn't that project the one you said you had some hoof in?"

"I think... possibly. The mare's name might have been Keen eye, but I'm not sure." Keen mused. "For the most most of the ponies referred to her as 'the subject'." Ganache nodded again, looking past Keen towards where Gin had walked off to.

"I suppose that means you know when she'll be back in the public?" He asked. "We could tell the poor mare that her friend's investigation called for her to go to the F.R.I. and that she expects to be back at some point, most preferably when the project ends." Ganache offered. "I'd hate to make more ponies suffer because of the experiments we run."

"Wish I did, but I'm probably one of the few ponies on the project whop doesn't know. Earlier today they sent me into an alleyway to 'collect' a pony who had some information about something, but when a pony came into the alleyway, it was the wrong one. I scared a mare out of her mind because of that. She thought we were after her because she took two nutlogs from a sample pile instead of one." Keen said in a slightly irritated tone, attempting to cover her bases with the mares previous assignment. Ganache chuckled lowly, almost low enough that Keen didn't catch it. "Hey, what's so funny?"

"Sorry, the reason the pony you caught thinking we were hunting her was just... it struck me in just the right way." Ganache said between bouts of laughter. Keen shook her head, chuckling a bit herself. Even if she had only just technically met this stallion, she couldn't help but compliment Caramel's choice in stallions.

Keen stood on the train platform, watching as the train pulled in. She was still wearing her new F.R.I. security get up, as well as still having her false cutie mark plastered over the real one. She had somehow managed to maintain a relationship with Ganache that was growing at a slow enough pace that the real Caramel shouldn't have too much trouble picking up where she had had her life hijacked, but now she was doing something that related to her own life. As she watched, the familiar stallion stepped out from the train and began looking around as she weaved her way through the crowd.

"Mr. Lodestone I presume." Keen began, gaining the stallion's attention. "Come with me, there is a discussion which needs to take place between you and me."

"My dealings with the Fillydelphia Research Institute are over, I will have no more of you ponies in my life." Lodestone replied bluntly. "Now if you don't mind..."

"The termination of your contract is the subject of the discussion, please, come with me." Keen said plainly, gaining a groan of compliance from Lodestone as he began to follow her away from the train platform and into the slightly shadier districts of Fillydelphia. Lodestone didn't appear to notice, or at least he didn't care enough to protest. After a bit, Keen ducked into an alleyway, Lodestone right beside her. Turning around to face Lodestone, she allowed a smile to cross her face. "It's good to finally see you again." She confided.

"Pardon?" Lodestone intoned, looking over the mare.

"Darood Desert." Keen stated plainly, getting an expression of realization, and then joy from the stallion. Lodestone gave her a hug as he began to chuckle.

"You pull that uniform off quite well, K-" Keen quickly silenced him.

"Sorry, but I'm undercover. As far as anypony is concerned, my name is Caramel Swirl and I know you from grade school where you helped me with geology." She whispered into his ear, looking around at the part of the street she could see.

"I can't believe how long it's been." Lodestone carried on, backing away from the embrace. "You haven't changed a bit." He chuckled. Keen scratched the back of her neck and gave a relaxed chuckle too. "Though then again, you have changed a bit. Look at you, big important security job at the good old F.R.I., but I bet you still can't point to Griffonstone on a map."

"Very funny, Load, but pleasantries aside, maybe we can head on over to my place, unless of course you have some other business. I'd love to catch up." Keen said.

"Hey, I got nothing I need to do, let's go." He replied with a smile. Keen nodded quickly, turning around, only to come face to face with Ganache.

"Oh, Ganache, when did you get here?" Keen asked, though in all honesty she half expected he had been tailing them the entire time. Ganache didn't reply, but instead looked past her to Lodestone.

"I know you from somewhere?" Ganache asked, looking the pony over with heavily levels of scrutiny. Lodestone gave a shrug in response.

"Honestly, if ponies go anywhere besides their home town, they have a chance of meeting ponies from half the world over by just visiting one village, much less a city. That being said, if we had met prior to this point, it was not on a name to name basis." Lodestone replied. Lodestone then looked over to Keen. "I take it you know this pony?"

"Yes, we met up through my work at the F.R.I., this is Chocolate Ganache. Chocolate Ganache, this is Lodestone, the pony I told you about." Keen said in introduction. "Wait, I did send you a line about my new coltfriend, right?" Lodestone simply shook his head in negation. "Wow... just, wow. I... I was sure I had sent you a mention of him."

"Well you did mention you met a rather nice stallion one time, but it didn't come with a photo or a name." Lodestone replied, playing his role perfectly. "Well, Ganache, I hope you take good care of her, K-Caramel," he stumbled, almost saying the mare's true name, "She might not be as close to me as she once was, or as much as friends really should be, but during our classes I grew quite fond of her, so I'll have her receiving only the best life has to offer." Lodestone said in a tone that inferred a certain amount of a threat that was not explicitly made clear.

"I assure you that I treat her well and with respect and that you have nothing to worry about on that score." Ganache replied pointedly. Keen looked between the two stallions starred the other down with extremely intense gazes.

"Okay, how about we just head on over to that pizza place you took me to, Ganache, they had some good food, what do we say we show Lodestone?" She offered, hoping that the prospect of food would dispel some of the animosity. The stallions eventually relaxed and both nodded, Keen giving a stern nod before moving past Ganache. "We will talk about this later." Keen whispered to Ganache as she did.

The trio sat, eating their pizzas in silence, both of the stallions knowing that they shouldn't say something in the perceived mutual friend. Keen occasionally eyed the two, who seemed to think she hadn't caught them exchanging suspicious glances. Keen could only hope the two wouldn't begin duking it out because she really didn't feel like having to break it up. Eventually the meal passed, and Lodestone said his goodbyes before moving away, leaving the two ponies alone. After Lodestone was out of the area, Keen rounded on Ganache.

"Ganache, what was that? What did I tell you the other day?" Keen asked exasperatedly. "Didn't I tell you to be nice to him? He isn't competition for you!"

I just don't like him. Something about him rubs me the wrong way." Ganache replied simply. "For your sake, if we meet again I'll be nicer, but I warn you that he might not be the same pony you once knew." Ganache then moved away in the direction of his apartment. Keen acted exasperated, though inwardly she was happy to have the stallion walking away. Keen quickly moved off to meet back up with Lodestone. And since he had only turned one corner and had stopped, waiting behind the wall, it didn't take her too long.

"So Caramel, is Ganache your coltfriend?" Lodestone asked as Keen looked back the way she had come, making sure the stallion hadn't followed her. "You make a sort of cute couple, though I don't entirely like F.R.I. ponies as you are well aware." Keen gave a sigh of relief before turning to Lodestone.

"He's Caramel Swirl's coltfriend." She replied simply.

"Understood, though I can't imagine what it must be like. I've had a few mares swoon over me in my time, but they always did so over me, and not a perceived image." Lodestone commented. "So what's our next move in the grand plan?" Keen looked back to check if Ganache was anywhere nearby.

"We have to get some extremely solid evidence for the case. The police have a warrant in the files for the F.R.I., but they are concerned that the files they are after with disappear under mysterious circumstances should they walked through the front door and showing the warrant." Keen explained.

"So we're going in stealth to extract the documents so that we can get the files without risking losing them?" Lodestone questioned. Keen looked over to the pony with a raised eyebrow.

"No, that would be the next plot of a Mission Impossible." Keen stated flatly. "We are going to have to force their hooves so that we can catch them doing something they shouldn't when a warrant is issued, namely destruction of documents."

"Same basic idea, just different execution. So, how we doing this shindig?" He asked.

"I'll tell you somewhere where coltfriends won't intrude on our privacy." Keen said, moving down the street, Lodestone quickly falling in line.

Chapter 13: A Trial for All

Keen walked up to the administrator's office, taking a deep breath before knocking. Having already spoken to the secretary, she knew she was allowed inside, but she still felt it necessary. A voice from within telling her that it was alright to come on in. Keen took another breath before pushing the door open, entering the administrator's office while shutting the door behind her. The stallion behind the desk set aside a mountain of papers, looking up at Keen.

"Miss Caramel Swift, was it? What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" He asked in a sickeningly sweet tone. Keen stepped a bit closer to his desk until she was within range to talk lowly enough that anypony outside wouldn't hear.

"I know it isn't my place to warn you, but I have a friend who works in the F.P.D. who has told me a judge has just sealed a court order, a warrant, allowing the police to search our facilities entirely." Keen said, only hoping that it would gain the response she was hoping for. The pony regarded her carefully.

"This... friend of yours, are they a trustworthy source of information? And how exactly did that subject come into your knowledge, or have they simply been feeding you everything that comes and goes in that office?" The pony asked pointedly.

"They are trustworthy, they pride themselves in their honesty. As to how it came about... well..." Keen scratched the back of her neck. "We kind of had a small get together last night and, well... let's just say alcohol makes tongues dance a very fine jig." The pony nodded in reply.

"I suppose it does." The stallion agreed slowly. "Is there anything else she divulged in her inebriated stupor that is of note? An example being when they intend to use said warrant, or what they anticipate finding."

"My friend made it rather clear the Fillydelphia Police Department was quite busy with several cases at the moment, and the specific case they are looking into that concerns us is of lower priority, though they do expect to use it either lat afternoon today or before noon tomorrow." Keen supplied. "She said that because of all the cases, another way the search will be impacted is that they will only be able to spare roughly four or five ponies to look through everything. As for what they hope to find... to be honest, she wasn't sure, just something about projects that might over step the bounds of contractual agreements, whatever that implies."

"My dear Caramel, what that implies is a great deal, but more specifically, a great deal of bits out of our pockets, and a great deal of unwanted negative press." The pony replied. "Now, usually I'd say at this point that we can never be sure and that it was most likely a false piece of information, I think this friend of yours and the circumstances in which she told you lend a certain air of credibility to your story." He then pressed a button on his intercom. "Attention, attention, files in sections thirty-two to forty-seven are to be relocated to safety zone Alpha Omega Three under protocol Hierarch. This is not a drill, please go to preordained positions for protocol Alpha Centurion. Code Orange, repeat Code Orange. All civilians and non-employees are to exit the building through designated areas. Code Red to be initiated after civilian evacuation." The stallion then released the button and looked towards Keen. "Thank you for giving me this information, is there anything else?"

"Just one thing, sir." She said. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to speak with an attorney and to have an attorney present during questioning. If you do not have an attorney and cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you before questioning. Do you understand and consent to these warnings as I have explained them to you?" Keen said, going through the rights as she remembered them. The administer chuckled slightly.

"I guess that does explain how you know about the warrant, though it still is interesting that you got through background checks with a police record. Tell me, Miss Caramel Swirl, does your coltfriend know you work with the F.P.D.?" He asked pointedly.

"Are you relinquishing your right to remain silent?" Keen asked in response, gaining an annoyed groan from the pony. "But to answer your question," She said, turning to tear off the cutie mark from her flank, happy to finally have it off, "Caramel Swirl had nothing to do with the Fillydelphia Police Department, my name is Keen Eye, Private Investigator." She said, a smile growing across her face. "And for your information, the police were the only 'civilians' inside today. You got three quarters of the department running through your complex as we speak, so files from section thirty-two to forty are being transferred to the evidence section of the F.P.D., not Alpha Omega Three."

"Well played... but I fear that in terms of legality we are cleaner than a newborn foal." The administrator stated with a wry smile. "Everything we did in here was to contract with ample reparations as per contract." He then leaned forward dangerously. "So have fun searching through four hundred thousand, six hundred seventy-three files that carry an average of three hundred twenty pages of eight point type, fitting approximately five hundred words per page. An approximate reading time for it all is roughly ten months, two weeks, six days, ten hours, fifteen minutes, and eleven point five seconds, give or take a few."

"Well, in regards to the legality of the issue, I think projects Illusions, Solitaire, Ghost Town, and Cat and Mouse have a few things to say, especially Cat and Mouse, since no contract was signed under willing circumstances is under any circumstances." Keen said with her own smile. "I also so happen to have recordings from Project Solitaire in my possession that can be provided as evidence, but more specifically, damning evidence. So before you get to cozy, I suggest you reconsider and try for some leniency with the court by pointing us at the right files. We already have a good idea what you've done, and in the very least, the defamation of character of your former test subjects after they pressed charges is enough to set you back a few months, and even if the courts find you innocent of charges of violation of contract and inequine treatment of ponies, the press will certainly love a good story about how the F.R.I. has been treating ponies, which will reduce your already thin ranks of employees, not to mention altogether cut you off from refreshing your staff. Now, I'm no economist, in fact I took a masters in Law and Criminal Justice when I was at college, but I do believe that without employees, even if you have a massive bank account, things tend to either stagnate, or more likely, go downhill. So, what's it gonna be?" By the time Keen was finished with her rant, the administrator pony was fuming, his brows furrowing ever more as he gave Keen, who through it all was giving a devilish smile, a death glare.

"I plead silence." He said simply, pushing away from his desk and away from his chair. Keen nodded, quickly taking off the security uniform before leading him out, all the while smiling.

"Well, that's a wrap, the F.R.I. is closed down at least temporarily, with all projects terminated and all test subjects released. We have enough instances of breaching of contract to empty their pockets and enough stories to dissuade any sensible pony from seeking a job there." The chief of the Fillydelphia police said with a short nod. "Soon enough everypony who has been wronged by them will be getting what they deserve, including you. I'll see to it personally that a special restitution fund is set aside within the Fillydelphia Research Institute bank accounts, something I know they can afford."

"I'm more than glad with the outcome as it stands now." Keen admitted. "All I want to see happen now is that the ponies that suffered through experiments like Ghost Town and Illusions are given proper compensation for what they've been through. I barely went through anything in comparison."

"In a court of law all that means is a smaller part of the restitution fund being allocated to your name." The pony replied. "I can only hope that the pony that gave you this case is pleased with the results, you certainly did a great job in making the F.R.I. face the music for its actions." Keen nodded slowly.

"That is an interesting point though. The pony who gave me the case never told me who they were, or even what they wanted me to look into. I simply took it in the direction of making the F.R.I. pay for what it has done to the ponies that were the subjects of their experiments." Keen admitted. "The letter that came with the initial case material said that I would figure it out."

"Well, I guess that if this wasn't what they wanted you to do then they can just go sulk somewhere else, because I think that taking down an untouchable corrupt company is a pretty good day and a very well done job." The police mare said with a smile. "I hope your employer sends you a notification soon." Keen only nodded in response.

Keen walked down the hall, looking at each cell as she passed, the ponies inside for unknown reasons for her, but she was more focused on a certain cell number she had yet to see. Beside her, Lodestone walked, looking at the cells on the opposite side of the cell block in the same silence. Eventually they came to it, Keen having spotted it first. Inside, a brown earth pony mare lay asleep. Keen knocked a hoof against the cell bars, which caused the pony to roll over and look out at them. When her eyes fell on them they went wide in shock, looking between Keen Lodestone, only to narrow as they fell solely on Keen.

"Let me go this instant, I have no reason to be in here." She hissed, taking several dangerous steps towards the pair.

"That's why I'm here, Caramel Swirl." Keen replied simply, catching the mare off guard. "But I'd like to explain certain things before I do so that we are all on the same page." Caramel sighed, sitting down on the cold hard floor, motioning with her hoof for Keen to continue. "I, as you probably have been told before, am a private investigator. I was assigned a case on the F.R.I. as few weeks ago by an unknown client who had unknown motives for giving said case to me, though I doubt it was simply done for fun." Caramel nodded as if she had heard the whole spiel before. "When you attempted to capture me, the fact we sounded quite a bit similar and looked near identical to me gave me an idea of how to get more of an inside perspective on what I was investigating. Using you uniform and a fake cutie mark, I entered the F.R.I. under the guise of being... well, you." Keen said, to the shock and appalled expression of Caramel, a mare she felt she had gotten to know through an odd way.

"W-wait, that means you must've met..." Caramel's eyes grew wider still as a dawning realization came upon her. "D-did you?"

"I met Ganache, yes. He is a nice stallion, and I made sure I didn't advance you're relationship to far without your presence, though I will have to fill you in on a few details." Keen said, hoping that it was comforting in some small measure. Caramel seemed to relax a bit at the news, though she still seemed uncomfortable. "I did assume you wished to further the relationship, and said as much on your behalf to Ganache." Caramel looked up to Keen.

"Thank you, I... I don't think I would've actually told him that... that..." Keen waved a hoof to silence her.

"Either way, another major thing that I should tell you is that he thinks you knew a pony by the name of Lodestone back in middle school, and that said pony help you in geography." Keen said, getting odd looks from both Caramel and Lodestone.

"Uh, yeah, about that..." Lodestone began.

"I actually did attend middle school with Lodestone, here, and he did, in fact, help me with geography." Caramel admitted. "I was actually the pony who told him about the open position in the F.R.I. as a survival trainer."

"That's true." Lodestone confirmed. "When you mentioned that I just thought you had done your research and had figured out that information for yourself. I guess that it was just a lucky guess." Keen looked between the two in shock.

"It is nice to see you again, Lodey." Caramel said with a small smile.

"Yeah, she doesn't know about that piece of our history." Lodestone chuckled. "For as much as she knows, or had made up, we were just friends and nothing more." Keen's jaw reached all new levels of being dropped. "Even so, the same to you, my little Caramel candy." A record which was promptly broken. Quickly regaining some of her composure, Keen looked at the two of them.

"So, should I have told Ganache that Lodestone was competition, or was telling him that he wasn't in any danger a good move?" Keen asked, unsure of how the other stallion might react. Caramel tapped her chin in thought.

"Depends on your definition of competition." Lodestone said playfully. "I mean, I have heard that after dating another mare for three months, Whetstone got back together with Haute Couture." Caramel's eye lit up.

"Really? I always hoped they'd get back together, but I'd never thought they would." Caramel said, only to have her eyes narrow in to dangerous, yet playful, slits. "Maybe they aren't the only ponies from those years who might get back together." For a few moments the two ponies looked at each other with looks that Keen couldn't read, but then they broke into laughter, leaving Keen sighing in frustration.

"I guess I'll just leave you two to catch up then." Keen muttered before taking out the key and giving it to Lodestone. "Here, let her out when you feel like it..." Keen then narrowed her eyes as a playful, and almost knowing, smile crept across her face, "Unless of course you'd want some private time." Lodestone stared blankly at Keen before shaking his head.

"My goodness, we've infected her, we have officially ruined one of the only decent mares left in Fillydelphia." Lodestone muttered to Caramel, who snickered in response as Keen moved on, allowing the two to catch up with each other, she had other things to attend to.

Chapter 14: The Final Tape

Keen stepped out of her apartment's bathroom, her muscles relaxed from the hot bath she had just left. The case against the Fillydelphia Research Institute was rather open and close. the institution being found unanimously found guilty on all accounts. Keen, having been a part of one of the projects, had had five hundred bits allocated to her name as restitution from the institute, a sum that, though meager in comparison to the ones allocated to the ponies who had been through Illusions or Ghost Town, was much larger than she had expected. Apparently psychological harm was considered a large offense, and an expensive one at that, which made sense. A pony's psyche was one of a kind, and all damages were, at best, able to be reduced to long scars that no amount of time or medicine could ever fully take away. By what Keen had heard, the ponies who had suffered through Illusions were each given two thousand five hundred bits up front along with a mandatory five hundred bits per month for the rest of their lives, a sum that, though large, was a small bit of the massive funds the F.R.I. had acquired over the years through federal grants and aids to the public that gave back, not to mention the fact that five out of the eight ponies who formed the board of directors for the institute were multi-millionaires. Most of the workers of the institute were charged with aiding and abetting, though the court showed a good deal of leniency to those uninvolved with projects, and some small leniency with those who had worked in projects and had lead them to some pieces of damning evidence, though one pony who had tried had not been given leniency at Keen's behest. Keen smirked at the memory of the expression the lead researcher gave her when Keen accurately identified her as such, in addition to the morning researcher for Solitaire who had, and she quoted, "No moral qualms with the project".

A knock on her door drew Keen's attention. She expected another reporter coming by for information on either her experience with the Fillydelphia Research Institute's notorious projects, or her general involvement in the case. Even though she considered herself a nonessential part of a great machination that would have come to fruition in due time, near everypony else thought otherwise for some reason, even the ponies that had been captives to the projects. Finally opening the door, she met not with a reporter, but a mail pony.

"Ah gost a letter fer a Miss Keen Eye. You's her?" The pony asked in a thick accent of no distinguishable origin to Keen Eye. Keen Eye smiled at the same mail pony who had delivered her the package at the beginning of all of this.

"Yep, I still am." She replied, her smile unwavering. The mail pony drew out the letter, giving it to Keen without a word before moving on in her rounds. Keen closed the door, bringing the letter inside with her. Looking at it, the noticeable lack of a return address stuck out to her. Sitting down at her couch, she quickly tore open the envelope, taking out the letter and looked over it.

  'Dear Miss Keen Eye,

  I wish to congratulate you on your recent connection to the demise of the Fillydelphia Research Institute, indeed a victory for ponykind in these times. I know you must be busy, so I'll attempt brevity. I am the pony who sent you the articles that set you on the path to finding out these dark secrets about the Fillydelphia Research Institute. As I informed you before, there is a spell woven into the thirtieth day's tape, a spell to inform me when you listen to it. When I received news about the victory in court, I was certain that maybe I had missed the spell, but I was told otherwise, which leads me to believe that you have yet to listen to it. Your victory over the Fillydelphia Research Institute, though ample victory for many, was not, nor is the reason I hired you for this most important case, though I am glad you did it. If any doubt is left, I am not displeased at this occurrence, but merely wish to inform you that the job has yet to be finished. Though it may seem but a formality at this point, I request you listen to the final tape as soon as your schedule allows. I understand that with publicity as this whole shibacle has generated that ponies must be clambering at your hooves now more than ever for assistance, but I can only hope you can make time to finish this final task for me.

                                                                                                                                                                 Best wishes,

                                                                                                                                                                 Your Client'

Keen lowered the letter. She realized it was true, that she had yet to listen to the last of the tapes. Keen stood up and walked over to her bedroom, quickly finding her saddlebags right where she had deposited them before having gone deep undercover. The tapes and the tape player along with everything else she had had with her before she was captured by the F.R.I. for Project Cat and Mouse, a name she suspected was given because the Institute believed they were reversing their roles of the hunt. She had been one of the few to really try and get the truth about the F.R.I., and not only that, but had some resources to do so, along with what could either be courage and tenacity or sheer stupidity to disregard the warnings given to her.

Taking out the player, she pressed the release button, taking out the twenty-ninth day's tape from the receiver and placing it in the case. Pulling out the lowest draw, reaching for the smaller tape, only to think twice, and take out the larger of the two. She had delayed long enough on this project, she would give it all the attention it deserved, the same amount of attention that all the other days really did deserve but hadn't received. Sliding the switch inside the player, the feeder and the receiver retreated into the base, only to be replaced by the ones farther apart. She'd find out what happened to this Mister Calculated Risk if it killed her, though at this point, snoops who wished her death were unlikely, though just to relive old memories, she looked out her window and pretended to see something, rushed over to check, only to be startled when she found that there was something there, namely a bird's nest with three small eggs. Keen chuckled, heading back to the player to finally listen to the final tape.

"Morning researcher's notes, Day Thirty, or as I prefer to call it, Day Final, for Project Solitaire. It has been a grueling thirty days, but today is the last day. Due impart by the fact our team is draining resources of the Institute, the higher ups are feeling a mite generous, and mounting suspicion and scrutiny our Institute is falling under, we are not going to be releasing the pony at midnight, as originally planned, but at four in the afternoon. He will be most likely be spending the rest of the day here, becoming reacquainted with the fact that he isn't the only pony in the world, but that still concludes the experiment. We have less than seven hours until we pop that buster open, and the construction ponies are right there outside with their tools, as eager as we are to take out those screws and let whatever we have in effect created into the world. Nothing has changed in concern to his constant talking with the fictitious mare Brushstroke, though, it does appear that he is not having insane ramblings between to halves of himself, but more of civil conversations with another pony. It is a trait we hope to correct entirely, since talking to what is not there is frowned upon in most social circles. The shrinks we hired diagnose it as a, strangely put, stable and near harmless, for at least the moment, case of schizophrenia, though without direct review of the patients actions this diagnosis is likely to change upon examination of the pony. Well, I have officially completed my blathering quota for the day, so, this is end of the final day's morning researcher's notes. Switching to what little in room audio we have left to go over." The pony then pressed the end recording button as she stepped away from the mic. The room around her erupted in applause as the preemptive celebration began.

"Well, we certainly deserve a raise or something." One of her colleagues proclaimed. "Remind me, if I ever have to sign up for a project again to have a clause put in that says the Institute IS responsible and WILL pay for any psychological harm that come to my person." He said with a pained chuckle, which carried all of the room's sentiments in it. The ponies were drained, not only physically, but emotionally and psychologically. The only rest in sight being that of the project's end.

Risk looked around the room with all the swaths of color that ran across the walls. Brushstroke was displaying the variations she could think of, each magnificently beautiful in their own right. She had relinquished the right of choosing the final color pallet to him, though he had no idea why, with such a fine taste in fashion and design she had she could, without a doubt, pick just the right pallet for this room.

"How about this one?" He asked, not really making a choice, but more of a suggestion to his lovely marefriend. He had made his proposal to her two days previous, and they had planned to be wed at tonight's, or what they considered night, dinner. The ceremony would be recited by Risk, or as close as he could from memory. It had been an almost inevitable outcome, though the question of their already existing relationship had come up. What were they in relation really? Risk had painted her, bringing her to life, but wouldn't that mean he was something like he was her father, or did the rules change because of what they were, or what they had come from? Risk was nowhere old enough to be a father of a mare of her perceived age, but then again, they couldn't tell what her age was exactly, though they had settled on twenty-four as a place holder age in absence of another method of determining it.

"Hmm, it does look nice, but it clashes with your coat. We need something that brings out not just the room, but exalts the appearances of the only two ponies who live in here." Brushstroke replied. "Possibly a more muted color scheme? We both have some more vibrant coat colors, so maybe a color scheme to contrast that." Honestly, Risk couldn't care less, not because of boredom over the meanial task, but because he was far too consumed in the mare he loved. Her projected colors suddenly shifted to include fewer brighter pallets, and far more darker, more desaturated colors.

"This one?" Risk ventured, pointing at one that included several browns and grays, but as he watched, Brushstroke simply shook her head in disapproval.

"No, that one is too drab." She complained. "If I could, I'd get a third opinion, but that option seems a bit out of the question." Risk nodded in response before walking over to one that contained more muted and darker reds with some browns.

"How about this one? It looks nice." He asked again, gaining a look of joy from his love as she moved up to look at it fully, only to expand it along the wall to see it more fully.

"Yes, prefect. It's warm and just the right level of dullness to not only contrast with our colors, but also compliment them." She said with a nod and a smile. "Yes, they are perfect. Thank you, honey!" She said, wrapping Risk in a hug, which he turned into a kiss.

Keen pressed the pause button on the recording as another knock sounded on the door, gaining her attention that had been wrapped in the recording. Standing up, she only began to realize how cramped it has been on the sofa were she had been for the passed... looking at the clock, she discovered it had been three hours already. A strange surprise indeed. Moving to the door, she looked through the peep hole to see Lodestone on the other side with saddlebags on his back. Quickly opening the door, she met the stallion with a smile.

"Lode, how nice of you to drop by!" She exclaimed, though kept her distance, not wishing to get close to anypony in any way that could be looked upon as romantic for a good long while, not after being Caramel for those few days that she had been. Lodestone simply chuckled.

"Yeah, it's nice to see you too, Keen. I'm especially glad I don't have to bit my tongue every time I say your name now." He ribbed with yet another chuckle. "How have things been around the office of the private investigator who singlehoofedly took down the most vile and corrupt corporations of Equestria in our time?"

"Now I would go THAT far with it. I was neither alone, nor did I enact the punishments and after effects that caused its permanent downfall." Keen replied, chuckling along with the stallion.

"You read the Fillydelphia Inquirer?" He asked seemingly randomly. Keen shook her head, reading only the Fillydelphia Free Press ever since the Inquirer started chasing after gossip stories and left the real news to pages thirty-seven and beyond, not to mention they ditched many of the old classics of the Saturday paper in favor of newer, and cruder, cartoon strips. "Well, let's just say they did take it that far." He said simply, with Keen's face to hoof motion giving him all the response he needed.

"Seriously, it isn't like the truth off the matter isn't interesting. 'Police successfully raid Fillydelphia Research Institute. Shocking reveal behind the most popular scientific research facility.' A title like that might make ME by one just to see what they got." Keen said with a furstrated groan as she returned her hoof to the floor.

"You forgot the part about the administrator's scandalous affairs with some random employee that would be covered more expensively in the next issue." Lodestone joked. "I've really come to expect no less from those ponies, which is a sad fact to think about really." He said, his chuckle slowly dying away.

"So, what brings you to my door this fine day, Lodestone. And in case you are wondering, no, I am not having trouble with my geography." Keen said smirking. "I actually got some good grades in that back in middle school." Lodestone laughed in response.

"As funny as that might be, Keen, I'm here to say my farewells to you." He replied finally, having caught his breath from the excessive laughing moments prior. "I'm leaving town since my witness reports are no longer needed and since I have no real other reason to stick around any longer." He stated firmly. "I'll miss you, Keen. You were a great pony to be around, probably the best influence I've had since I left home about six months back."

"Well, thank you, I guess." Keen replied. "You were... an interesting case to say in the least. Oh and, before you go, I got something for you." She said before ducking back into her apartment.

"You would know a lot about interesting cases, wouldn't you?" Lodestone said jokingly as the mare slipped deeper into her abode. The mare eventually returned with a bag of coins clenched between her teeth. Lodestone lifted an eyebrow at it as Keen Eye set it down."

"It's for all you've done for me, including the extra you did to gain me a private car." Keen explained. "It should be enough to either treat you the or get some nice meals on the normal train." She said with a small smile.

"Keen, I... I can't take this, I didn't give those things expecting anything in return, and this is far too generous." Lodestone said while shaking his head. Keen lifted a hoof to her chest, as if wounded by his words.

"To refuse the gift is to refuse the giver, Lodestone. Are you refusing me as a friend?" She asked in a pained voice. Lodestone blinked a few times at her before snorting in frustration.

"It's no fair when you use my own customs to counter my generosity in not excepting exuberant gifts." He complained as he picked up the pouch and tossed it into his bags. "Though I guess the fact you are so quick to adopt another's customs and philosophy." He said with a smile.

"I guess you could say I'm keen on changes." She joked. Lodestone shook his head as he chuckled lightly with closed eyes.

"Well," he said with a sigh as he refocused on Keen, "This is goodbye." He said, extending a hoof to the earth pony mare. "May we meet again, Keen. I wish you all the best in your future ventures." Keen met his hoof with her own, shaking it slowly.

"Thank you, and the same to you, Lodestone. Don't be a stranger, come by to visit from time to time. I'll try and slip you in somewhere." She said snickering, quickly ending it with a clearing of her throat. "But really, do come to visit. I'd love to have you." Lodestone nodded.

"I'll try, but there's no telling where life will take me next. I can only hope it's nowhere near a desert for at least a little while." Keen laughed at that. "Goodbye, Keen." He finished, lowering his hoof back down.

"Goodbye, Lodestone." Keen replied before the stallion moved on down the hall towards the stairs. Keen shook her head with a smile as she shut the door. Keen moved back to her couch, lying down before pressing the play button on the machine.

"I do think they could've added a bit more salt to the potatoes,though." Brushstroke noted as she whipped her muzzle off. "It was good, but salt would've brought it out a bit more." Risk nodded in agreement.

"Maybe some butter would've done the trick." He suggested. Brushstroke nodded slowly as she watched the plate vanish. "I think their standards are getting a bit more lax now that we've been in here for a while. Hopefully it doesn't drop of completely, I'd rather not eat sludge." Brushstroke again nodded in agreement. A smile slowly broke out across her muzzle as she looked over to Risk.

"Only a few more hours." She said happily. "It's hard to believe the day came so quickly." Risk chuckled lightly. "I only wish we could have a few more guests. Weddings are nice, but it almost seems we are eloping." she said, joining in on the laugh.

"Well, we can't exactly say we are, and we can't say we aren't. We can neither run away from or to my family, and... well, then there's your situation." Risk then froze. "Wait, if I'm your father, does that mean I have to ask myself for permission to marry you? Did I skip a step by not asking? Do I have to get on my good side to make sure I accept my hope to marry the mare that in all technicalities is my daughter in some way?" Risk looked over to Brushstroke with a concerned expression. "And if I'm my own father-in-law, then who is the mother-in-law? Would I also be the mother-in-law? Do I have to make jokes about myself now?" Brushstroke deadpanned at the stallion, who quickly began laughing again. Brushstroke shook her head slowly.

The mare walked up to the recording area, looking over the set up for the last time. She had used the recording system so much that it had become an exhausting venture, not so much because it was difficult, but more so because it was tedious, like the class in school that took time to do but you'd always get an A in no matter what. Using her magic, she replaced the tape with a fresh one, waiting for the light to come on to start speaking into the microphone.

"The time has finally come, we are preparing to open up the box and let the stallion out. At the moment he seems exceedingly calm and collected, though that is only what we can tell from the audio we are getting." Looking over to the box as the engineer ponies began to rev up their drills. "Everypony is in their place and ready to receive him. We can only hope that there will be no hostile reaction from the subject, though after what he's been through, it wouldn't surprise me in the least. There isn't much left to go over, and so I can call Project Solitaire a roaring success with all the data we were able to collect from this experiment. A big round of applause to everypony who stuck it out too the very end. This is the end of the final researcher notes for Project Solitaire." With that she pressed the button to finish the recording. Looking back to the construction ponies, she signaled them to open the chamber up. The ponies nodded and got to work quickly. The gigantic bolts on the sides of the wall of the box began to turn slowly, moving farther and farther out as the ponies applied more and more power.

"I'm glad that this mess is finally over." The stallion beside the usual morning research said. "I don't think many of the ponies here could've handled putting that stallion through much more." Vile nodded slowly, looking over the progress on the ponies removing the screws, now halfway done with the first set.

"We can only hope he isn't too traumatized because of this. I already have done too much damage, I don't want to add permanent mental damage to the list." Another pony stated as she approached. "You think he'll drop the duality thing once he sees more ponies, or do you think he'll take a bit to get over it?"

"I honestly don't know, it could be dropped as easily as a hat, or may prove to be a pseudoaddiction. What ever the case may be, we can only hope for the best." Vile replied. "If this pony can function as a normal pony I'd be happy, but even that's a bit in question. He might never fully recover, or he might surprise us all and get right back into society without a problem." The first screws dropped to the floor, the construction ponies moving to the next set quickly.

"Should we take pictures?" A stallion asked. "If this proves to be of any real value in the future they might want a visual representation of the events that happened." The ponies looked at each other, shrugging.

"Sure, why not? Though if he looks distressed, cease photography immediately, we don't want him to be too scared to leave." Vile replied finally. "We've had him in there for thirty days already, I don't want to have to deal with thirty more." The stallion nodded, running off quickly, coming back before twenty seconds had past with a rather high end camera. Finally the final screws came off, the illumination spell on the inside of the chamber disengaging as it did. The sound of hoof steps coming out caused the pony with the camera to lift his device, ready to snap a picture. Slowly, the earth pony stallion stepped out, met with the rapid clicking of the shutters of the pony's camera. He stepped out further, completely leaving the chamber as he looked around at the room he was now in. Looking back he motioned with his head to the air to follow, but as they watched, something was... off. The sound of hooves against the plush lining met their ears, followed by a red mare stepping out from the chamber after Calculated Risk, looking with wide, curios eyes at everything around her. The pony with the camera snapped several more pictures before Vile knocked the camera from his hooves while several of her colleagues charged forward to look over the two.

Chapter 15: Meeting Face to Face

Keen leaned back in her chair, a billion thoughts rushing through her head. She had heard the ponies gasping at the end of the recording, the sound of a second set of hooves leaving the chamber in the final moments giving her more questions than answers. As her mind raced to catch up and pick up whatever she had missed, a knock on the door tore her from her thoughts. Standing up, she walked up to the door, opening it without looking through the peep hole. Before her stood a stallion she very much knew. Though she had only seen him in grainy, black and white images, it was no mistaking him.

"Hello, Miss Keen Eye, it's nice to finally meet you face to face." He said in a more calm and relaxed voice then what she had come to know him for, not to mention the recording equipment hadn't caught the deeper tones in his voice, which made his voice all the richer.

"Mister Calculated Risk, please, come in." She said, stepping back from the doorway. Risk nodded politely, stepping in before looking back to the hallway.

"I'd like you to meet my wife. Miss Keen Eye, meet Brushstroke." He said with an ever growing smile that was only bolstered by Keen shocked expression as the crimson mare Brushstroke walked in through the doorway, giving Keen an earnest smile.

"Hello, Keen Eye, Risk has told me a great deal about you." Brushstroke said, giving a slight bow. Keen only nodded in response, her jaw still ajar. Calculated Risk quickly cleared his throat, breaking Keen's stupor.

"As you probably have guessed by now," Risk began, "I am the pony that hired you to investigate the project known as Solitaire, which seems to have expanded into a full on investigation on the Fillydelphia Research Institute." Keen nodded slowly, having had her suspicions for some time, though having no evidence to back it up. "Well, as your client, I would like to thank you for taking the time from your schedule for my case."

"It was no problem at all." Keen replied. "Though I must ask, why me?" Keen asked as she cocked her head. Ever since the beginning she had had her questions why this pony hadn't hired somepony more professional to take the case.

"To be honest, you were the twelfth candidate I had made inquiries about. You were the only pony out of twenty-five who, after receiving the case materials actually went past the first day's recording." Keen blushed slightly.

"Well, I just thought that if somepony asked for my help it was only right for me to try and give it." She replied sheepishly. "But twenty-five ponies, and I was the only one who actually tried to do something about it?"

"I believe that the F.R.I. had no small hoof in that matter. I hear that most of the investigators had been stalked by a stranger for several days with multiple threats to them. Tell me, did you get any of that in your case?" Risk asked, looking over the apartment, most likely looking for signs of any struggle or ransacking that might tell him.

"I did, in fact they drafted me into one of their projects, though I managed to escape before the end of the first day." Keen replied. "I suffered very little in comparison to other ponies." Risk slowly nodded in response, slowly looking back to Keen.

"Yes, it was quite... disturbing to here about things like Illusions or even Ghost Town. Terrible affairs, most frightful indeed." He said, much to Keen's surprise.

"B-but you suffered as much as they did, if not more." Keen interjected, only to watch as Calculated Rick shook his head with a small smile.

"I suffered little in comparison. I had Brushstroke to keep me company for the final ten suppers, which more than amply made up for the heartache of the days before." Risk looked over to his wife with a smile that had mingled a measure of pain with the joy it displayed. "The others were alone, or in a world so foreign that they could never find escape, but Brushstroke was my escape, my relief in the times of pain and suffering we endured."

"We may have gone through an experiment that was intended to be as awful as, if not worse than, many of their other projects," Brushstroke explained, "But when we found each other the project became that much easier to bare. Risk might have been on the brink of a full mental break, but when I came to him... I believe in a sense, I saved him." Then turning back to Keen she added. "We saved each other. If I had been alone I would've likely died, much as he would've killed himself, as dark as that sounds."

"We both needed somepony, and we both got somepony. We complete each other in a way that we had never been completed before." Risk said, turning back to Keen too. "Ponies aren't meant to be alone. We are intrinsically social creatures. Even shy ponies would feel lost if they had no connection with the world they feel so uncomfortable with most of the time. Even loners and antisocial ponies need to at least be in situations with other living beings, even if that's just being in the same room and not talking, as long as they can maintain a sense of connection with the world."

"You are starting to sound a bit preachy, honey." Brushstroke interjected, cutting of the stallion of her dreams before he could go into a long winded speech.

"I suppose you're right." Risk sighed. "Well, Detective Keen Eye," Risk said, producing a pouch of bits, "Here is you well deserved payment for helping us." Risk lifted an eyebrow at the pouch and at the two ponies.

"But I didn't solve any case." Keen said, unsure why she was receiving payment before completing a task forth the coin. "I can't accept payment until I do something worth it."

"I was figuring on giving it to you for taking down the F.R.I. and having the patience to listen to all the tapes." Risk said. "Though if you want to feel you did something worth the pay, then tell me why Brushstroke came to life from nothing but a blood painting." Keen tapped her chin with a hoof, thinking hard about the different possibilities.

"I suppose that," Keen began, hesitating slightly, "I might be that the innate magics within you that yearned for friendship might have caused the blood to function as a sort of impromptu lattice work for a spell to take hold of, which when fed the desire for companionship as a directive, formed a being to serve as the method through which to mitigate that most vital necessity." Keen offered. Both Calculated Risk and Brushstroke nodded with satisfied smiles.

"A very well thought out response, with rather solid reasoning behind it to." Risk commented before looking over to Brushstroke. "The explanation we had worked out before was a bit more simple than that, though." Looking back to Keen, he explained. "We believe it was simply the magic of friendship that wanted to see a pony happy." Keen nodded slowly. There was no real right answer to this question since there was so little data on the matter. "And now that you solved a mystery, I hope you will now accept your payment, you earned it for all hat you've been through." Keen gave him a pleasant smile, watching as the two left the room. Picking up the bag of money, Keen picked the coin bag and tossed in onto the couch before closing the door, a final sense of closure settling over the whole thing. Looking back to the group of tapes, file holder filled with blotted out papers, and the tape player that had faithfully played the evidence for her with a happy sigh. Walking up to the pile, she shut the tape player one final time, noticing a small note tacked onto the top of it.

Thank you

Keen smiled, taking the note off before sitting back down on her couch.

Epilogue: Case Closed

Of the many cases I faced through the rest of my career, I never once had to face something so... interesting, I'll say. I stayed in the business for another fifty years, taking odd jobs and the like and some major cases once in a while. I am now retired, and quite thoroughly tired. I never got married, I never had children, and I never figured out where Lodestone took those other two Stymphalians, though he claims to have sent them to where the others flew off to. I for one, kept the last Stymphalian as a friend, since I can rightly call him a pet. He is as old as I am in bird years... at least I suppose he is since his once bronze colored feathers are a bright silver and he's cranky all the time.

I started to develop a friendship between Ganache and Caramel, though I never once kissed that stallion again. I see the from time to time, with their grandchildren at the park. Lodestone, by what he says, works at a wildlife preserve while also occasionally teaching the young'uns how to survive in the wild. I occasionally hear from Gin's family... a sad story that one. As for Calculated Risk and Brushstroke, they had several kids, grandkids, one of which is expecting the first great grandkid.

Steel Beak is telling me that it's almost time. You see, after the Fillydelphia Research Institute lost the court case, it still had enough bits in its coffers to continue functioning for a while, though as expected, with minimal staff. Police inspected them every month for the first ten years, and then once every two, than every six, until four years ago it became once every year. The F.R.I. was reduced to chemistry sets, and most of the scientists who were part of it never were able to leave. In the paper last week an announcement was made that the F.R.I. building was being destroyed, and that a new park or something was gonna be built there. I, along with half the town, have come outside to watch it go. We plan on celebrating the final and utter demise of this wretched thing.

This ends of notes on 'Case File: Solitaire'.

The stallion lowered the file from view, looking out the window in thought. It had been an odd case indeed, that one, and more so why this Fillydelphia Research Institute hadn't been shut down prior to that point, though he guessed that it just took the evidence Keen Eye had procured. The sound of heavy wings beating caught his attention. A large, bronze feathered bird sat on the windowsill, waiting to be let inside. With a chuckle, he opened the window with a push of his magic, allowing the massive bird inside. The bird ruffled its wings a bit, a few of his razor sharp feathers fluttering down to the ground.

"Have you finished with that case, yet?" The bird asked in annoyance. "You've been at it for nigh on to ten days now, you'd think that it were a book or something." The stallion chuckled in response.

"Well, if somepony turned the bland recording of details into something a bit more verbose and actually structured in a way that it might feel like a story then I'm sure it would sell quite well." He said calmly to his Stymphalian friend. "Besides, how am I supposed to finish my masters degree if I don't look into large cases of the past."

"I'm sure you're auntie Keen Eye would be proud of you, but I also think she'd understand if you'd just take some time to yourself and actually enjoy life." The Stymphalian bird countered. "I'll be across the street if you need me, I hope you like pizza." The stallion smiled as he watched the bird hop through the window, gliding down across the street.

Sitting back in his chair, he looked out of the window with a sigh, the blue sky above pleading with him to come out and do something under its magnificent beauty. Looking back to the folder, he finally relented and shot forward, getting to his hooves in a flash before moving out of the building his aunt Keen Eye had worked in all those years ago.

Together, we are strong. Together, we can accomplish anything. Ponies don't need technology, or innovation to make great leaps and bounds, and we certainly don't need shut-ins to work their hooves to the bone to make something to be better as a whole. Ponies only need each other and a bit of cooperation and we can go wherever or do whatever. United we stand, but divided we fall. So why do we try and do things alone when many hooves makes light work? We aren't a species of loners, we are meant to be together. So how about it? Let's tey and work together.

-Unknown

-The End

A Mile in My Shoes Part Two

I walked down the streets of Fillydelphia, having just finished my usual work day at the firm. It was still early, and I hadn't had too many things to do, so I took a walk, not much caring about where I was going or doing. It was a normal day, at least so it appeared, and the city as a whole was quite calm, even for a calm day. As I took a corner, I was suddenly face with a pony. What seemed to be a brief moment, I moved past him with a tip of my hat, but what I didn't realize was that I had just lost about half an hour. I have only been recently reacquainted with those few hours, so allow me to elaborate. Upon facing this pony, I tipped my hat to him, but instead of passing him, he began to talk to me.

"Sir, do you have a moment, I wish to talk to you about something." He said in a deep voice, one I doubt had actually been his natural one. I cocked my head in confusion.

"What is this about?" I asked, not entirely willing to go somewhere with a pony that hid in a trench coat and used a fake voice for certain obvious reasons. In some ways, I wish I had kept my resolve, though in others, I am glad I did not.

"I'm here to offer you a chance for work, I hope you will consider it very carefully." He said. "This work will have you partake in a social experiment sponsored by the Fillydelphia Research Institute. Any loss in time and salary will be made up for in double, if not more, at the end of the testing period. Are you interested?" I blinked in response.

"Would you mind telling me what kind of social experiment you are talking about so I can actually give you an apt response. I rather not actually sign up for something I have no idea about what it might do." I replied.

"Of course, sir, I'd expect no less from a pony of business." He said, the smile he hid in the shadow of his hat and coat oozing through his voice. "Please, let us discuss this matter somewhere more suitable. How does that cafe sound to you?" He said, raising a hoof to a cafe across the street. I hadn't been to that cafe before, but I supposed any cafe was as good as the next, though my friends would shout the contrary at me.

"Alright, let's go." I said, following him across the cross walk, noticing briefly that two other ponies in trench coats were behind me, making me feel extremely uncomfortable. The cafe was simple, not that I expected extravagance. The two other ponies stepped over to a bench near by, looking over their menus towards me. I sat down across from the stallion.

"Now," he began, "To the experiment. For this experiment, you will be gone for thirty days, so ensure that as few as possible social events are caught in the middle of that time frame. During this time you will be placed in solitary confinement without contact with the outside world." I nodded slowly, not entirely apposed to it thus far. "Food will be provided for you, along with all other necessities, except social interactions of course."

"And I'll be payed more than twice the amount of bits I would've received during that time had I not accepted?" I asked, confirming what he had said to me before, to make sure I understood.

"Yes, you're time is valuable, we understand, but science requires sacrifices, but they don't have to be completely without gain in turn." He explained. "The F.R.I. is not a nonprofit organization, and is more than capable of mending any damages to your person during the time of the testing." I thought the offer over. For the most part it would appear that it was a good one.

"What about my family? What happens to them because of this?" I asked, though I had little genuine concern for them. They'd make it fine without me, and I without them.

"They will be unaware in concern to the experiment, but otherwise will only suffer the loss of one month of your presence, for which the Fillydelphia Research Institute will not make reparations." The stallion replied. "Your expenses will be high as it is, the Institute doesn't wish to incur far to many damages to the budget, if you understand my meaning." I nodded slowly.

"Alright, I'm sold. I am willing to partake in this little experiment of yours." I said foolishly. The thought of this as a sort of all expenses payed vacation danced in my mind, an idiotic notion at best, a fool's hope if I was kind. The stallion nodded, procuring a paper and a pen for me to write with. I lifted the pen and looked over the page, signing on the dotted line the stallion motioned to. He nodded, taking the paper back up, stuffing it into his coat once more, along with the pen, which he wiped off on a handkerchief.

"To ensure the purity of the experiment, you must be unprepared for when this will take place, so as to not make it so you are just playing a waiting game with a fixed ending." The stallion told me bluntly.

"So, what, you're going to whisk me away at an unknown time?" I asked, illustrating how naive I really was.

"That is part of it, but I will also make it so you have no memory of this incident." He replied coolly. "It is a painless process, but you will have no idea of what is happening to you when it does happen. The contract is still legally binding of course, but to ensure that the legal matters are properly attended to." He then brought out a recording device. "I'd like you to read something into this device before I complete the process." I nodded dumbly as he took a smaller piece of paper from his coat, an action that made me wonder how much he could find into that coat. I looked at the paper, beginning to read after he pressed the button.

"I do here by agree to the terms and conditions of the contract I have signed, and do understand and accept the privileges, as well as obligations, contained therein." The stallion pressed the button and gave me a nod before stowing away the recorder and paper.

"Thank you, sir, the Fillydelphia Research Institute thanks you for your compliance and sacrifice. We hope your stay in our laboratories are a nice one." He said before motioning for me to stand up. "We will go back to the corner where you met me, there I'll complete the memory removal process." I nodded, still not understanding the magnitude of what I had just done.

A Mile in My Shoes Part Three

Home; home is supposed to be a comforting place of solitude, a place where ponies can go when they feel down, or just tired, and yet, my home could no longer be that to me. I had signed what effectively functioned as a license to break my privacy and observe me every second of the day. I had signed my own paranoia license. I suffered greatly in those thirty days, yes, but I think the preamble might have made it all the worse for me. It wasn't as bad as the main event, but it sufficed as a prologue to the torture that I would suffer soon enough.

Shooting up in my bed, I looked out towards my window, a movement or something having caught my eye but a second earlier, though I couldn't tell what it was, or if it was. I squinted, trying to peer through the darkness, but nothing new was revealed to me. I fell back onto my bed, sighing in frustration. It had been a long day at the office, and now that I was home I needed sleep more than anything, but for some reason I wasn't getting it, no matter how much I tried, especially with brief blurbs of motion that caught my eye either in my room or directly around it. I couldn't wave it off anymore, but I couldn't prove it had been real either. For all I knew, I was just stressed and needed sleep.

I settled deeper into my covers, trying to escape whatever tricks my mind was trying to pull on me, but no matter what I did, toss or turn, my thoughts haunted me, biting at the back of my mind, telling me to look one more time, the same fears that made sleep without a nightlight when I was a small colt impossible. Was this simply me being sleep deprived? If so, why wouldn't my body cut it out and let itself recuperate?

Suddenly, a clatter hit my window, and I groaned, looking up towards it, only to freeze. There was no pony there, but on the center of the glass was the slowly fading mark of a hoof print, as if a pony had touched the cooled glass of my window, the heat from their body leaving a mark where it had been moments before. Shaking my head once, I looked back, and watched as the final wisp of the heat dissipated into nothing, leaving no trace. I stood up and left my bed, going to the kitchen to get something to get me to sleep. Even if a burglar was trying to break in, I wanted to sleep. They could steal whatever they wanted for all I cares, as long as they left the bed, the couch, and the stove... and maybe the freezer and the fridge, the freezer was a nice thing to have and the fridge had left over macaroni from the last time he had eaten out.

I opened the fridge and poured a cup of milk, drinking it down in a few swift gulps. Looking around in my apartment with the pale light from my fridges miniature light fixture, I saw everything was in order, not that anything shouldn't be. Closing the fridge door, I made my way back to bed, flopping unceremoniously as I tried to get to sleep before the morning made my room unbearable.

A Mile in My Shoes Part Four

The streets were cool, the evening air ruffling my coat as I walked without paying attention to where. As I walked, I suddenly met a stallion. I attempted to move around him, but he stepped in my way once more. Suddenly two more ponies walked up behind me. I was about to state I didn't want any trouble when they started to kick, punch, and otherwise, brutalize me as my voice filled the street.

Waking up in a cold sweat, I looked around my room, and then to my clock, groaning as I realized I had only fallen asleep for about an hour. Sure, it was better than nothing, but I really did need more. Looking around once more, I suddenly was met with the fact of how dark my room had gotten, not that it really surprised me, since it was night time and all, but it really did feel weird seeing my room in such a darkened state. Settling back down to try and sleep, I was slowly met with my prey as my eyes drifted closed from exhaustion. In the final moments of wakefulness, I was vaguely aware of the pony at my window who looked in at me, though I was far too tired to cared.

"I'm not going to quit!" I shouted to myself. "I have too much at stake, I've worked hard and I deserve to take this to the end." I said, smacking my head with a hoof. "Come on, work, I need to do this. I'm so close, just a few more and I'll be done, then I can rest and take it easy." I muttered to myself, looking back to the calculator, the numbers taunting me. Forty seven thousand, seven hundred fifty-two, but what was I missing? There was something not adding up, something that just didn't make sense to me about those numbers, something just out of grasp, and that frustrated me to no end as I stared at them. The variables for this were insane, and yet I had to get these numbers to my client.

"Hey, Calculated Risk, you almost done there? We're waiting for you, and you know she doesn't like waiting." A pony said, sticking their head out of the door way. "You alright, you don't look so good."

"I just don't get it!" I huffed, starring at the numbers and then all of my calculations. "I did all of the calculations, I punched all the numbers, dotted every 'i' crossed every 't' and then made sure I had and still these numbers aren't making sense to me. They are logical numbers, but they are illogical in the context in which they are applied."

"You know you could just tell her that and she'd understand. You can finish tomorrow, sleep on it and get a fresh start on the whole this, do it right." He offered, but I shook my head.

"The deadline is today, I need to get it done today, but it just feels so out of grasp." I looked over to him. "I've worked my flank off on this, but the numbers just don't make sense. The odds of this working should be higher, but they aren't." The stallion at the door looked back inside as a pony talked to him from inside.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied. "Eh, no, ma'am." Risk perked his ears up, trying to catch whatever they were saying, but he wasn't within range of the conversation. "Of course, ma'am, I'll tell him right away." The pony turned back to me with a regretful look in his eyes. "She says if you can't present her with some solid numbers in an hour, you will be removed from this project and you will not be paid. Just so you are aware." I groaned in frustration.

"Great more pressure." I hissed as I set about typing on the calculator, checking my paper every so often, this time a new number became the result, much to my surprise. Forty-eight thousand, one hundred seventy-two, yet another useless number. I tapped my chin, looking at the ceiling, desperately searching for ideas. I took my glass of water and drank a bit of it down, looking back at my numbers, going through the calculations once more. THERE! There it was, the all destroying error that had nearly cost me the job. Typing as quickly as possible, so as to not waylay the impending cut off point, that was closing in faster than ever.

The meeting was a success, I had made it in time, and the firm was pleased with my calculations, and even more appreciative that I hadn't done a sloppy job of it, something they understood because of the delay that had occurred. I now walked down the street, a slightly richer pony for my efforts. My tenacity had beaten the obstacle, I had won, and now I reaped my rewards as I sat down at my favorite dinner, ordering my favorite dish.

The flavors were always good, but the fact they were fixed with the taste of victory made it all the better to me and a large smile graced my features. I took a sip of my drink letting it permeate my mouth. I took up the newspaper from the table, looking over the different articles of interest between mouthfuls of delight. After finishing my food, I ordered a dessert, feeling I more than deserved it for my valiant efforts, and more scrumptious victory that had been granted to me. I looked over the article as waited, something about a writer having won some award or another for some great act or another.

My dessert arrived, and I ate it with a great calm, savoring every delicious bite, something, though I didn't know at the time, would not happen for a long time after. I looked back to my newspaper, having come to the advertisement section, where everything from scrap to houses were sold in the near by area. A golden sword of an exclusive model for ten hundred thousand bits, a carriage that could be rented for the day for one hundred seventy-nine thousand bits, a custom apartment for forty-eight thousand, five hundred thirty-six bits, among other items of little interest. I set the newspaper down, enjoying the last bits of my meal, remaining seated a good time afterward, enjoying the day as it moved lazily on by, things were good, and they'd stay that way for a good long while, or at least I thought that at the moment.

A Mile in My Shoes Part Five

I stood up from my bed, a smile across my face. I had no work that day, nor any work planned for the next month or so. I had no family engagements to attend to, which made me all the happier as I made my way to the living room. I took out the left over macaroni, throwing it on the stove, waiting for it to heat up as I smiled and hummed to myself. It was a good day, and there was nothing that could change that. As I waited, the sound of my phone ringing caught my attention, which struck me as odd since very few ponies knew my number. I walked over, putting the headset on before flipping the answering button as I moved back to the stove to watch my breakfast cook.

"Hello, you've reached the residence of Calculated Risk, certified statistician. How may I help you?" I said without even thinking as I watched over my food.

"Risk, is that you?" The voice of my half-deaf aunt Parsley Stalk assaulted my ears as she shouted into the receiver on her end. Lowering the volume on my headset, I took a breath and replied.

"Yes, this is he." I said in a louder than normal voice.

"Ah, good, I finally got you." She said, her voice lowering a tad, though I didn't dare touch the volume control. "I was meaning to ask you if you could make it to my birthday party." I gave a little less than long-suffering sigh and gathered myself to reply.

"Auntie, your birthday was last month, I was there." I replied as lovingly as possible. "Your next birthday isn't for a bit more than eleven months still." I took the spatula from its holder in my teeth, stirring the macaroni slightly as I waited for a reply.

"I know, I know, dearie, but I can always plan ahead, can't I? I'll be Sixty-seven next year, and you know how big of a number that is for me." She confided for not the first time. She had been turning sixty-seven for the last twenty-three years. "Will you be able to come to it?"

"I'll try, auntie, but planning this far ahead is a bit tough." I told her in all honesty after setting down my spatula down. I heard something being said on the other end, but it wasn't direct to me, so I was unable to catch it.

"WHAT?!" She shouted into her telephone, causing me to flinch away from my headset, though since it was latched on through an adjustable strap, that was unlikely to actually happen. I sighed once more, feeling another surge of exasperation towards my senile aunt. I loved her, but she could be a chore to talk to at times.

"I said, I'll try, but planning this far ahead is going to be tough thing to do." I repeated, almost shouting to my end. I removed the pan from the heat, setting it on the cooling rack.

"Oh, I understand, dearie, it can be tough to plan with a schedule like yours." She replied, one of the first sensible things she had said that conversation, I noted. "You're such an important business pony, such a leader of the people. You go out there and show them what you learned in that university, you show them makes fun of our family." At this point, I chuckled at my aunt's antics.

"Will do, auntie." I replied with a smile. She had that uncanny ability, to make you smile by the end of it all, no matter how much of a headache she caused to get that point.

"Well goodbye, dearie, hope you have a wonderful day." She said before hanging up on her end, not even waiting for me to reply. I shook my head, setting the headset to the side as I moved the macaroni from the pan to a plate. Even though I didn't like her the most, not that I was very fond of any part of my family at that point in time, but by the end of the grueling trials I'd go through, I would plead to be able to see her once more, if not to just apologize for all the thing I did and didn't do.

Setting the plate down on the table, I walked over to the front door, picking up the mail, which I brought over to the table. A letter from a friend, a bill, a letter from a company requesting my particular skills, and a catalog for the upcoming sale at some shop I didn't even know that location of. The newspaper was as interesting as ever, and by that I mean not very. The stocks were up, which was good news for me, and nothing entirely earth shattering was happening, a welcome change from what seemed weekly events centralized in Ponyville or some near by area. It did make sense that there reporters over there, a new princess being crowned in Equestria brings in the views.

Taking a bite of the reheated macaroni, I looked over to winning lottery numbers, more out of curiosity than actually having any thing riding on it. Four, nine, five, one, and one had brought home the day for somepony, if that number had been actually picked, the odds of which were... let's see. I shook my head, shaking numbers loose as I did. I had just finished a gigantic project, I was taking a break from doing statistics. I finished my breakfast, thinking about what to do, finally settling on going to the store, wherever it was, to check out some of their specials. It couldn't hurt to see what they could offer me, though I doubted even then they'd have anything I needed for a price I'd grab it up for. It was at that point, I made the choice that sealed my fate, I stepped outside my house and made my way out of the building into a world that plotted against me, though I knew it not.

I made my way through aisle upon aisle of canned goods, looking between canned beats, canned corn, canned cream, canned... cans. Truly, there were geniuses yet in our society. Moving on, I picked up a bag of chips that was at a discount, not wanting to seem like a window shopper, though I really kind of was at this point. Made my purchase, moving on down the road towards the park, figuring I'd spend the day relaxing in the sun, something ponies who have jobs indoors don't get much of, though they still need it.

As I walked down the street towards the park, I nodded to a street cleaner, the final pony I'd see before entering the box I now realize. I decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway, an action that, should it have worked, I would've cut ten minutes of my walk, but instead, it added thirty days to it. Stepping into the alley, I felt a pain in my neck, as if a bug had decided I looked good to eat a bit of. I smacked my hoof against it, but instead of hitting a bug, something sharp poked at both my hoof and my neck. Drawing my hoof back, I looked at it, realizing I suddenly felt very tired. Maybe I'd skip the park and head on back home to get some more sleep. After all, I had worked hard to get the last project finished, I deserved some rest. But as I thought about it, my legs gave out and my eyes slid shut as the tranquilizer took effect on my already weakened body.

I slowly woke up, looking around at my surroundings, but saw only white. The thought crossed my mind I might have died, but I quickly shoved that thought away since I doubted dead ponies had killer headaches, that was unless that dead ponies felt what killed them and I had died from a headache, which would have been a stupid way to go, though there were worst I could imagine. My mind accepted the challenge of conjuring said worse alternatives, and came up with drowning in a toilet, eating too much cheese, and dying from a concussion caused by a beach ball, all equally terrible and yet hilarious. I shook my head, looking around, realizing I wasn't dead and wasn't anywhere I recognized.

"W-what... where... ah, my head." I put a hoof to my head, still looking around as my headache spiked. "What's going on?"

A Mile in My Shoes Part Six

"I made it, as you can tell, and much better than I had when I entered that Celestia forsaken place. Though I know that my suffering was little in the grand scheme of things, I still feel enraged when I think about it, not only at them, but at me. I believed them so easily, no questions, no doubts, no hesitations, just thoughts of how relaxing it would be to be along for thirty days, not realizing for stupid that idea was, how foolish it was. If I had been left to my own devices for much longer, I would've probably suffered permanent damage, and I doubt the ponies outside would've cared, and that above many other things, makes me mad, makes me infuriated at them, at me. I am mad at me because I believed, and made at them because they saw their opportunity and took it." Calculated Risk sighed into the microphone, rubbing his temples with his hooves as he tried to relieve some of the pressure. "I know I really shouldn't be, they have been taken care of, but I still feel the same as I did before, even though as it stands now, there is nothing left to be angry at.

"I've tried forgetting about the whole thing, but even though I have received compensation for time lost, above and beyond what would probably cover the costs it caused me, it will never fix the problem that is at the root of it all: the fact that they tried it in the first place. Though I try to remain calm, sometimes it just boils over and I just get so... so..." A hoof was placed on Calculated Risk's shoulder, looking back, he saw Brushstroke smiling at him tenderly.

"I also suffered in some measure, basically being born into such a place of despair. Even though the beginning was horrid beyond measure, the end was well worth it, because it brought us together. There is still life to be had, and even though they stole some of it from us, we have much to look forward to." She said in a calm, soothing voice. "They can cause us pain, but they can never take the root of our joy: companionship."

"As long as we have each other." Calculated Risk said with a nod.

"Yes, as long as we have each other we can move on, live on. There is much life to be lived, much hope to be had; too much to let anypony or group of ponies try and take it away from us. All we need to do is stay together, because separated we are not a half, we are less." Brushstroke stated. "Even if they forcefully separate us, we can still find strength in our fight to rejoin." Calculated nodded once more.

"Ponies are distinctly social creatures. If that wasn't true, why is the greatest power in the power named after and made through it? Together we can foster a strength greater than anyone of us contain, but when we stand alone, we are our weakest." Calculated Risk stated. "Brushstroke, I don't know how you came into this world, but I'm glad you did. Without you this world would be much less than it is now. Not only that, I would be much less than I am now."

"I'm glad that whatever life has in store for us that I can face it with you by my side." Brushstroke agreed. "Not only did you make me, but you completely, make me whole."

"Are you gonna kiss?" A small colt asked, sticking his tongue out in disgust. Calculated Risk and Brushstroke looked at each other with a smile before laughing boisterously. "You're talking all mushy-gushy again."

"Grownups do that occasionally." Brushstroke explained. "I bet you'll be the mushiest-gushiest talker of them all when it's your turn." The colt backed away, shaking his head with his tongue still sticking out in even more disgust.

"Alright, buddy, time for you to get to bed before I come and start talking mushy-gushy to you." Calculated Risk threatened playfully, gaining the expected result of the colt charging away towards the bathroom to get ready for bed as quickly as possible, wanting to be nowhere near his parents at the moment. "Reminds me of me when I was his age." He reflected.

"I'll take your word for it." Brushstroke replied. "Now, are you gonna go get ready too or am I gonna have to start talking mushy-gushy to you?" Calculated Risk looked over to his wide with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe I'll give you a kiss if you get ready in five minutes or less." Brushstroke offered with a smile. Calculated Risk tapped his chin in thought as he considered it.

"Nah, I'll take my kiss now." He said, wrapping a forehoof around his wife, drawing her in for a kiss to the chagrin of the colt who had just exited the bathroom down the way.

"YUCK!" He shouted in disgust before going to his room. The two parents broke from the kiss, looking towards where their child had charged off to, and then back to each other before laughing. Calculated Risk gave Brushstroke a quick nuzzle.

"I should go check on him." Calculated Risk admitted.

"Are you two done kissing yet?" The colt asked, not risking a peak around the corner. Calculated Risk chuckled at his son's antics.

"Yes, I'm done kissing your mother." He told him. The colt peeked around the corner to make sure and gave a sigh of relief. "At least I took all the kiss out of her for you." Calculated Risk nudged. Brushstroke tapped her chin in thought.

"I don't know, I feel a bit like giving a kiss to somepony, maybe on the cheek." She said thoughtfully. The colt shrunk behind the corner, eyeing his mother as if she were a monster of the highest magnitude.

"Don't worry, I'll save you from the evil kissing monster!" Calculated Risk declared as he stepped between his son and his wife valiantly, puffing his chest out. "I'm ready for you, monster, you'll not kiss my son!" Brushstroke smiled as she crept up slowly to her husband.

"Oh, you think you can take two kisses in one night?" She challenged. "I'll just have to kiss that confidence right out of you!" She said, leaping forward, planting a kiss on Calculated Risk's forehead. The stallion feigned injury, stumbling backward as if he had just been shot with an arrow. Falling over beside his son, he lie stock still, his eyes still open.

"You're not dead daddy." The colt said between snickers. Calculate Risk quickly fixed this, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth. The colt fell over laughing as he held his stomach. Brushstroke quickly advanced, blowing raspberries into the colt's belly, causing his giggles to grow louder. Calculated Risk suddenly stood back up.

"I have been revived!" He proclaimed. "Don't worry, I'll save you from this fiend!" He said before moving around and kissing his wife's cheek, causing her to stand up, putting a hoof to the cheek with a shocked expression.

"How dare you kiss me?" She then lowered into a threatening stance. "Have at you!" She said jumping her husband, wrapping him in a hug, sending him into a fit of laughter to rival his son's. "Ha ha, none can defeat me!"

"I can!" The colt shouted, hugging one of his mother's leg. Brushstroke gasped, falling away from her husband, sticking her tongue out in death. "I did it, I defeated the monster!" Calculated Risk smiled, ruffling his son's mane before lowering to his level, whispering something into his ear, causing the colt to smile devilishly. Brushstroke cracked an eye open to see what awaited her, only to have her colt blow raspberries on her belly, causing her to laugh harder than both of her boys.

"No fair you little booger, I'm dead! Get your father instead!" She said between breaths. The colt quickly complied, scrambling up one of the seat at the island counter before jumping off, landing on his father's back.

"Oiy, what are you doing you little hug monster?" Calculated Risk ask. "You want to go for a little ride?" His colt nodded furiously. "Alright, hold on!" He said, rearing up after his son wrapped his hooves around his neck. Brushstroke continued laughing, though she eventually did regain her composure enough to stand up and dust herself off. They were a happy family, and that was all she could ask for. Brushstroke moved down the hall after her husband and son, stopping in the doorway to her son's room, watching as her husband jumped and kicked with large amounts of self-control, acting as if he was trying to remove the colt that was still holding on to him. The three of them continued laughing as Brushstroke used her magic to take the colt off and place him on the bed. Calculated Risk pulled the covers over his son, nuzzling him gently.

"I love you daddy, you're the best." The colt said as he settled into his bed a bit more. Calculated Risk chuckled slightly, bopping the colt''s nose with a hoof.

"And what about your mommy you goober?" He asked. The colt lifted his head up, looking over to his mother who stood, leaning agains t the doorpost.

"Love you too mommy, you're the best mommy ever!" the colt proclaimed happily. Brushstroke chuckled lightly as she moved up to the colt, ruffling his mane a bit before kissing him on the forehead.

"I love you too, now get some sleep, honey, tomorrow's another day." The colt slowly nodded, yawning. Calculated Risk sat down beside him taking out a book from the small shelf, preparing to read the night's story. Brushstroke moved on, leaving the room and entering the living room. Moving over to the recording stand, she checked it, finding it was still on.

"In the end of it all," She began, "The project, no matter how malicious, ended in making us a very happy family. We both know the true meaning of friendship and why it is so important. Without friendship, we couldn't do anything, and with it, we can do anything." Looking back, she watched as her husband emerged from the hallways, still chuckling. "No matter what happens, no matter what comes, we have each other, and as long as that stays true, we will be able to face it and conquer it. Not as individuals, but as the parts of a greater whole." Calculated Risk quickly trotted up beside her.

"The only thing greater than friendship is love, and with it by our side, with the ones we love by our side, we are stronger. There is no amount of times that that can be said to make the meaning known, even though it is an ever present constant that will stand forever. If ponies abandon love, abandon friendship, they abandon life, happiness, and meaning." Calculated Risk added.

"Not to mention sanity and reason." Brushstroke added. "Friendship is such an integral of not only ponies, but every living creature, that without it the world is a lesser place, if it can even exist. I know I couldn't exist without it."

"And I know that without it, I wouldn't be the pony I am today. And so, I say farewell to whoever listens to this, and I hope that you can understand a bit of what lies behind this all. If not, it doesn't matter, because there will always be somepony else who can explain it better than I could. Until next time, goodbye, and good night."

Prologue: Opening Notes

"Ponies; we are intrinsically social creatures, though are dispositions are largely varied. A large distinction lies between being alone and being lonely, being removed and being solitary. Everypony, even those who feel they are unable to preform social tasks when in the presence of others, need the presence of others at a fundamental level. Everypony has another in whom they can confide, one in whom they can trust in an share their feelings with. No pony is an absolute loner, because a fundamental element on which our sanity hinges is the knowledge one is not alone. We tend to forget this in many ways, though when we are truly alone, stranded without contact with the outside, without contact with life, we can easily fall into depression. We need others to validate our efforts, to help us improve, to make us who we are. No pony is self made, and no pony can go it truly alone."

-Princess Twilight Sparkle, during a meeting with the Board of Equestrian Educators

When I was young, I was distant from most everypony, much as many who were in my position. I was a pony of some privilege, though my parent rarely spoiled me. My name is Keen Eye, and though it may appear that way, this is not a story about me finding a special group of friends, meeting with part of the Council of Friendship, or me making some other large contribution to society. No, this is a story about how I, with the help of a few others, cracked a case about one of the most outrageously immoral companies in the history of Equestria.

Fillydelphia, though the fourth largest city in all of Equestria, is still one of the most communally centered areas. Having only risen from a small town a bit over three centuries ago certainly did help foster that sense of community and intercitizen dependence. The ponies of the city might not be a close as once, but many ponies still know each other by name, while as some of the other large cities tend to not quite the same sense of community. It was true, with a city as large as Fillydelphia there are strangers, but of the various city sectors, the ponies who live in the same, or neighboring, sectors more ponies knew each other, a true blessing in some cases, and a curse in others.

Fillydelphia also contains one of the largest industrial centers in all of Equestria, which companies working in textiles, general manufacturing, canning, and many other varied productions. Fillydelphia's research and scientific community is also extremely well made, with scientists whose dedication makes them extremely well suited to make advancements in science that others might not be able or willing to, but this also makes them susceptible to certain experiments that might be questionable at best. An example of such is the experiment that tested the effects of antimagic materials on unicorns, which ended in ten unicorns being unable to use magic for years after. A bastion of scientific progress, as it advertises itself, is the Fillydelphia Research Institute, or the F.R.I., who has over a thousand scientists on staff, while also hiring more than ten times that amount of civilians for other positions.

My name is Keen Eye, I'm a Private Investigator. Ponies come to me with their problems, usually having to do with survailence and other mundane tasks that a neighbor could honestly be hired for, though I am glad for the work, no matter how idiotic it may be. I might not be the most renowned investigator, but I do aim to please my clients as best I can, no matter the task, no matter how much trouble it gives me.

Chapter 9: Concerning Stymphalians

Keen charged across the cacti forest, noticing the occasional patch of actual dirt instead of sand. Before her, the dark cloud of the Stymphalian bandit birds were circling over their home, which she had yet to be able to see. As she dodged around another, her hoof splashed in the murk, surprising her enough to cause her to jump back. Before her, the cacti began to thin out, few of them able to grow out of the murky sludge before her. Beyond, she could see a cluster of mangroves, which probably served as the birds nesting area. Keen weighed her options of how to get there and back without being noticed. By what Lodestone had said, many ponies had tried before, but each had failed through a combination of sentinels and being to bulky to make it across the mire. Keen walked back into the cacti forest, quickly spotting what she was looking for. She had a plan, it wouldn't be fun, but entertainment wasn't a priority when it came to saving ponies lives.

Stepping into the muck and filth once more, Keen took the half of the cloth she had wish her, laying it down in the murk before turning it over to coat it on both sides. Picking it up, she threw it over her back, drawing it over her head before spitting out the horrid flavor of the mud. She looked out, quickly plotting her course as best as she could before moving out. There were many fields of reeds farther out, but the miry murk that had once been the river that generated the marsh beyond separated her from the cover she needed. Lowering herself into the muck, she began to move out, surprised how fast the solid ground under her dropped. She had barely been able to start, and already she was having to act as if she were swimming in the sludge. Maintaining her head above the mud was already a struggle, but also making sure her covering that made her look a bit more like a cluster of filth stayed on was another matter altogether.

The sludge, fortunately, made it a bit easier to float, but the fact it was so thick made it harder to move, especially with the amount of stealth she wished to achieve, fortunately, the sludge soon began to thin out a bit more until it was only murky water. As she moved on, she suddenly found her rear hoof caught on something, stopping her dead in her tracks. Keen took a deep breath, dipping under the surface with her eyes closed, lowering herself to whatever was holding her back. She moved her fore hooves, feeling whatever was holding her. Freezing as a chill of dread took hold of her, she shot her eyes open, only to see what she had hoped she had been imagining. Below her, the skeleton of a griffin was entangled in some underwater plants, its right foreleg's talons grasping her leg in the most horrifying way. Using her hooves carefully, she pulled away, only to watch as the skeleton arm, which she had pushed down towards the rest of the body, floated up slowly, as if to grab her once more.

Panicking, Keen waved her hooves to get her farther away, only to bump into something else. Turning around with a growing sense of dread, she was met by the floating skeleton of a Saddle Arabian, still wearing the tattered remains of a uniform. Keen struggled away from the beast, only to notice something. The skeleton bore a sheath that was looped into a belt, but more importantly, a crossbow still stuck out proudly from it. Keen, feeling her lungs burning in her, surface briefly, only allowing her head to break the water, before going back down to retrieve the crossbow, pulling it out with her hooves as delicately as possible. Putting the bit of the crossbow in her mouth and taking the bundle of bolts that floated nearby, as she attempted to ignore the acrid taste of the near stagnant water, Keen moved on towards the murky edge of the dying river.

Eventually she reached slightly more solid ground, though it still gave as she stepped on it. Crouching low, Keen moved to the first clump of reeds, her now extremely heavy cloth covering on top of her. Looking around, she saw the first Stymphalian bird, sitting atop a nearby mangrove tree, looking this way and that, watching out for incoming threats, though he had yet to see Keen. Keen lifted the crossbow, pressing the string between her lips as she tried to take off some of the moisture before drawing it back with an eerie creak before it reached the raised divot that held the string taught as she took out a bolt, snapping the metal tip off, and placed it in the notch that ran the length of the board. Lifting the whole apparatus slowly, she took careful aim at the creature, more specifically, its head. Pushing the metal bar on the bottom up slowly, she was surprised as the smallest pressure caused the bolt to fly forward, striking the bird right where she had been aiming, sending it into the mire below with a dazed expression.

Keen blinked a few times, looking at the dazed bird, whose wings were stuck straight up in the most comical of poses. Keen adjusted her grip on the weapon with a shutter as she went back under, moving towards the next outcropping of reeds. When she arrived, she was surprised to find a bag floating in the water, the faint glint of metal underwater below it telling her where the pony who had once owned the items had gone. Keen quickly opened the bags, finding more bolts and the most peculiar rattle like object she had ever seen. Looking at it curiously, an idea of what it was made for came to her, and an idea of how she'd employ it for her own uses.

Keen quickly set to work, snapping the heads off of the bolts as quickly and as silently as possible. Looking around, she confirmed the position of about seven large patches of reeds that were close enough together enough that she could make it to them in a decent amount of time. Drawing back the twine of the crossbow, placing the first bolt in the slot before setting it on the saddlebags that still floated. Taking out the rattle, she prepared for what would come.

Lodestone dodged around yet another chick's advances. Their beaks were still bright yellow, untainted by the bronze coating they'd receive later in life, though their feathers were only slightly less sharp in comparison to their parents. Dodging them, for the most part, was rather easy, seeing as a creature the size of a pony that the mobility of a foal didn't exactly scream deadly hunter, but their one advantage was numbers. Loadstone was one pony with the stamina one pony had access to, while these little hatchlings were numerous and had near boundless energy from being in their eggs for Celestia knows how long.

"Arg! 'top movin' aroun'!" One of the little birds whined. "Ah'm haungry!" Lodestone stepped to the side of another charging attacker. Lodestone was already sweating from the effort, taking as deep of breathes as he could while there was a space between the attacks. Lodestone eyed the three voracious, and more importantly, carnivorous Stymphalians that slowly approached him, apparently having gotten the idea in their head that they would have an easier time of catching him should they actually work as a team, a tactic that Lodestone didn't appreciate.

As the three were about to charge him, an odd noise came from out in the marsh, causing all the Stymphalian bandit birds to take flight with looks of horror and shock. The three hatchlings waddled away from Lodestone, towards the edge of their nest, which they scrambled to get over, but found near impossible with the fact of their size and the lack of usable wings. Lodestone quickly charged over to one of the edges, jumping over it before spreading his wings to catch him into a glide, weaving between the trees. Out in the marsh, we could here the sounds of the birds squawking and squealing, the occasional splash as something hit the water below. Lodestone didn't know what to expect, but he couldn't rightly stay here knowing what would wait him if he did.

As he broke out of the treeline, he watched as a Stymphalian bird plummeted in front of him, plunging into the water, bobbing to the surface limply, though its rising and falling chest told him that it was just dazed, or perhaps unconscious. Looking around, he watched as another was knocked out of the sky, looking as equally indisposed as his comrade who had fallen not a moment before. As he attempted to figure out what was happening, something caught his eye. A dark brown spot moved through the lighter water below, but more curiously, it was leaving one patch of reeds and moving to another.

As he watched, the patch of dark made it into the next patch, rising up from the water revealing a pony with a crossbow, who quickly swiped at the string, drops of water flying off in so doing, before drawing back the twine and loading a blunt bolt into the slot, taking a shot at a Stymphalian that had wandered a bit too far from the group. Lodestone smiled as he recognized the pony under the brown blanket, one very dirty Keen Eye, though her brown coat only showed it slightly.

Lodestone dove to the marshy ground, sinking quickly into the water, trudging through the muck towards the reed where Keen continued shooting down the words. Keen Eye nodded to him with a smile, taking one last shot at one of the winged bandits as the flock soared off into the distance, quite obviously abandoning their nesting area.

"Mind telling me what exactly you just did to get those birds out of here, besides shooting them with crossbow bolts?" Lodestone asked, looking the filthy mare up and down, as if he were just seeing her for the first time. Keen chuckled lightly as she let go of the crossbow, allowing it to simply drop into the marsh without much of a care.

"As you said, many others have tried to remove these pests. It just so happened that the equipment that all those parties had brought with them was still here, and still very much usable." Keen replied. "I had all the tools I needed to get them out of here, so it was just a matter of getting it done." Lodestone shook his head with a sigh.

"Ah 'ssume ya lef' our stuff some'ers safe?" He asked, imitating the Stymphalian's accent with some accuracy. Keen smirked at him before turning around towards the desert.

"Stashed under the other half of this piece of cloth next to the tallest cactus I could find." She replied. "Now come on, we got to get back home. There are some rather important matters that need to be attended to still." Lodestone nodded grimly as he followed quickly, only to trip and fall face first into the muck as his hoof caught on the reeds. "Oh, and watch your step, there are a lot of things in here that shout the fact it wasn't intended for ponies." Lodestone shook himself with a sigh before trudging on after Keen.

"Wait," Lodestone said as he froze in place, Keen looked back to him with a raised eyebrow, "They all flew off, right?" He asked. Keen cocked her head, but nodded slowly after a short moment.

"Except the ones I knocked out and are now floating in the marsh, yeah, they are all gone as of about a minute ago." She replied. "Why, what's the problem?"

"They had hatchlings, three of them, and they are trapped up in a nest without the ability to fly down." Lodestone explained. "We should help them down at least, otherwise they will sit up there and die because there aren't any adults looking after them." Keen scratched her chin for a few moments. There were some problems to that plan. One, they were carnivorous so they might attack their rescuers. Two, they might be recently hatched, but Keen doubted their 'down' feathers were as fluffy as the usual conception of such feathers. Third, there was no telling what they'd do after being released.

"Alright, I think I got a plan on how to take care of this." Keen said hopefully. The plan was solid in her head, but even the best made plans might fail.

A Mile in My Shoes Part One

"As unlikely as it might seem, I can only believe that there some ponies, who when they hear this might believe the dreadful truth of my stay in, what I called, the box, was not as horrid as I believe, that it was nothing. I'm sorry to report, that those ponies are wrong." An indistinguishable sound from behind the recording area. "I'm not trying to say that what I went through was unbearable, or that others have suffered nothing in comparison to me, far from it." Another sound from behind the recording area. "These accounts are from me, not just from a tape player or a piece of paper."

"Of course, you could always talk about the better times." A mare's voice cut in. "Not all of it was bad... well, sure the majority was, but wasn't the end of it good enough to make up for the evil of the rest?"

"Of course, but it still is essential to make it known." The stallion replied. "Even though at the end of it I got off better than many, the fact remains that I suffered, and that there are some out there who might contest this fact."

"If they told you you were bald, would it be true?" The mare asked in a caring tone. "I have a feeling that the answer is no. So why does it matter what they say about you suffering?" A sigh could be heard.

"Because without that, they'd think..." The mare silenced the stallion.

"It's alright, just don't get to worked up as you talk, alright?" The mare requested. "There is life happening beyond the recording studio." By the sound of the hooves walking away, an inaudible response had been given. A space of silence entered, broken only when the stallion sighed.

"Let's begin, shall we? There are many details I'd like to go over, and some might seem as trivial, but each of them help paint a better picture of what happened. This is my story, and I, in distinction to recording and paper, will tell it how I will, but since the majority of what I experienced in the chamber was already divulged, let me tell you about before that room. Before those thirty days."