The Trilby and the Bowtie

Manehatten: 1004 ANM

“There’s… There’s got to be a link, got to be a link somehow!” A pony nervously muttered to himself as he paced back and forth the floors of his apartment. The wooden floors creaked and groaned with age under every hoofstep. The pony in question, named Question Mark was about fifty or so, brown in fur color with greying hair and stubble on his face. He’d long been dismissed as a kook, crackpot or nut-job, depending on which phrase you prefer to throw at him.

Not that he cared of course. He knew what he’d stumbled upon was big, very big indeed. He’d dare say that this might just shake up the foundations of the upper levels of Royal Guard if this information got out to the public. Trouble was, his reputation was less than stirling thanks to his possible madness, not helped by the fact that he’d been seen in local bars all across the city.

Once, many moons ago, Question Mark was a renowned PI, often helping the police with cases they couldn’t solve. Of course in his now drunk and paranoid mind, that meant pretty much every case, even the simplest of ones that could easily be classified as open and shut.

He didn’t care that the task force, or anypony in the city took him seriously anymore. He wanted to solve just one last case, right before he went. You see, his liver was failing and he knew it. But that wouldn’t stop him. Solving these kidnappings, dating back since 989 ANM would give him back his reputation. Plus, it would give the families that had lost loved ones some closure at last.

Question Mark took a swig from his hip flask, which was engraved with the latin saying "Imple sollicite qui te habeat fiduciam”.

“One more drink couldn’t hurt, could it? After all, it’s not like I’m going to die already from this is it?” He mused sarcastically before he switched the radio on and smooth jazz music not unlike something you’d hear out of a speakeasy of olden times began to play from it. He smiled as the music soothed his weary ears. He’d already written out his will, and although he did not have much to bequeath, he did have one simple request for his funeral which was to play this song.

Question turned his musings back to the case at hand. Before him, on a billboard held up with pins of various colors and connected with strings, were pictures and news reports about various missing ponies. Also, chief in the center of it all, was a newsreport dating a few years back on the First Lieutenant of the Royal Guard, Bradwr Boltstrike calling for more soldiers to defend the regions of Equestria from the Caribou Empire’s enclosing reach on the borders of the Royal Sister’s kingdom. However, both Princess Celestia and the Captain at the time had shot this proposal down, saying that Equestria had more than enough soldiers to defend it’s borders, and that there was no reason to fear the Caribou Kingdom at this time. Actually, she and Lord Tall Antlers were very good friends from what Question had heard from a old contact in the Royal Guard, a fellow PI like himself who at the time worked internal affairs.

Question knew this statement and the kidnapping of ponies had to be connected. “After all, if you couldn’t get official permission…” He thought. All in all, this billboard along with everything on it added along with his general paranoia gave everypony the impression of a conspiracy theorist.

Question didn’t care about that.

Question didn’t care about anything anymore.

All he wanted was to stop this evil before it started and solve this case.

“Now… You, Red Lightning, you were the first to vanish.” Question muttered to himself. “But, next month… a pony by the name of Black Lance goes missing. No relations to speak of. They weren’t family, nor were they dating. There’s… There’s just got to be something I’m missing!”

Question scoured the papers laying around on his desk, each with information on the various ponies that had gone missing over the years. He stared at each of the two’s information for hours, and things became a blur as the night wore on. He became dizzy, and yawned once more. He needed rest, and he knew it. But this case was far more important than his own health. He snarled in frustration and sighed.

“I need some fresh air. Always helped me get a new perspective on things, when I’m not focused on the case. Answers always come then.” He mused to himself and opened up the sliding door to his balcony and let the fresh Manehatten breeze flow through his dark brown fur and smiled before taking another swig from his flask.

Unknown to him, he was being watched. From a long abandoned apartment directly across from his own, a few floors higher was a pony clad all in dark clothing. He opened up a case and began assembling what was inside and set up its stand and lined up his shot.

The shot rang out, and Question fell and tumbled over the balcony and down to the streets below, gravity rushing up to greet him as blood spattered the window of his glass screen door.

The unknown assassin smirked. His deed was done. Now for the second portion of the job to be over and done with.

“Sir, this is Agent Alpha. The Target has been eliminated. Permission for the clean-up crew to do their part?” The unknown pony asked into a headset. A thick Trottingham accent answered him.

“Permission granted. Agent Delta, move in.” The pony ordered, and outside in the hallway that lead to the late Question Mark’s apartment, there lay another pony in dark attire covered from head to hoof. He kicked the door in and began pouring alcohol all over the floor. With a few quick motions, he struck a match against his clothing and lit it before tossing it onto the floor and running just as the whole room was consumed in flame.

“Commander, this is Agent Delta. All evidence has been eliminated. Repeat, all evidence is eliminated.” He said into his headset.

In a unknown location, a dark blue furred pony smirked.

“Good, now that old drunk has been eliminated, all the chains of evidence linking me to this has been dealt with. ...Well, all except you lot. You know what to do.”

Both ponies nodded and took out two pills, one for each of them and popped them in their mouth and crushed them beneath their teeth. Soon, they lay on the floor their mouths frothing with foam.

“Good, now nothing can stop me now. Time to get to work. There’s still lots to be done yet.” He thought to himself with a smirk and turned on a radio and let the sound of Hooftooven's Fifth Symphony sooth his ears...

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