Horsigan Noir

Glenn Miller’s At last played on the radio as we rode in the taxi.

“The north side eh,” the driver asked in clear interest.

“Yep,” I said, as I adjusted Windsor’s head on my shoulder.

“My name’s Pip,” he said as we stopped at a red light.

“My name’s Oliver,” I said.

Windsor had fallen asleep with her head on my shoulder, and had a dopey smile on her face. My navy blue overcoat was all I had left from my time as a tail gunner for a B17, and my black Stetson fedora I had bought when I became a detective. Both were wet from the heavy night time rain.

“Be careful detective, this could be your last case,” Pip said as we took off from the light.

We entered the precinct and were pulled over by the police. They walked up to my window and I rolled it down.

“Ah, it’s Hellfire,” the first, a pink buck by the name of Cover Fire, sneered.

“Hello Misfire,” I said.

He glared and asked dangerously, “What're you doing in my precinct?”

“My job serge,” I said, noticing his bars.

“That right,” his partner, a blue buck called Chain Link, sneered.

“Yeah, it is,” I said.

“You can’t exactly do that without your driver getting permission from his dispatch now can he? Oh, and from what I can see, your marefriend has an unlicensed weapon,” Cover said with a maniacal grin.

“Oh officer. Don’t you know, you'll get your comeuppance soon you know,” I seethed with a fake smile.

“So will you detective, now step out of the car,” he said.

I glared, but did what he asked, just as Windsor awoke.

“What’s going on here,” she seethed as they put me in hoof cuffs.

“Who are you to ask,” Link sneered.

She pulled a shield from the Port City PD, and said, “Detective Windsor of the PCPD.”

Their jaws dropped, but they glared as they uncuffed me, and threw me to the asphalt.

“You win this round detectives, but you’ll get yours soon,” Cover seethed as they walked back to their car with Link following.

“Your a cop,” I asked.

“Sorry I never told you,” she said as she helped me up, and we got in the car.

“Good to know,” I said as we took off.

“Sorry detectives,” Pip said.

“You're fine Pip,” I said.

We arrived among the big houses of Rosewood, and I payed Pip 20 bits for the ride, and went to the police do not cross tape around the front yard. I saw only old hoof prints from the cops who came here, and tire marks on the street, so there wasn’t much to start with.

“Any witnesses,” I asked Windsor, who held an umbrella with her wing.

“Only one, and she was shot an hour before I went to your office.

“Any ransom letters,” I asked as we left the crime scene in front of the barn like red house.

“I’m afraid not,” she said as she gave me a confused look.

“Where are we going,” she asked.

“We’re following the tire tracks,” I said.

I saw a part of a curb broken three blocks down, and beside the chunk, lay a licence plate.

“Woah,” Windsor said as she noticed the same thing.

I galloped over, and picked it up before stuffing it into my overcoat. I looked up to see a buck wearing a white Stetson fedora with a red band, a white bandana covered his face, and a suit with a double breasted jacket, and a tan overcoat. He drew a pistol, and shot just in front of me.

“Give me the license plate and you won't die tonight,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Windsor drew her gun, and pointed it at his head.

“I think you should drop the gun,” I said with a grin.

He shook his head, and suddenly a car pulled up with the barrels of tommy guns sticking out of the window.

“I don't think you get it. Give it to me, or these guys will kill you,” he chuckled.

Windsor and I spread our wings, and took off.

“Luna dammit,” he yelled into the night as we flew back to my office.

When we arrived, I unlocked the door, and held it open for Windsor before she giggled and went inside.

“Definitely mob involvement,” I said.

“Those guys were dumb,” she said as I opened my door on the second floor, and was bashed in the face with the butt of a gun, and saw stars.

“Not exactly,” I heard a breathy female voice echo as my consciousness faded.

At Last, Etta James

Thank you Mystic Moon and Taku45k for your help, and thank YOU for reading or listening.

Horsigan Noir by: Oliver Hellfire, Mystic Moon, and Taku45k

I awoke to a headache, with my landlord standing over me.

“Are you ok,” she asked.

She was an older palomino unicorn mare with round glasses and green eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but where’s Windsor,” I asked. I then felt slightly dizzy as I stared at my landlord. Damn! I growled softly.

“Oliver, are you alright, “ she asked as I tried to look at her in her eyes. Pain took over as I grunted.

“I...need medicine! No, a doctor! Get a doctor! Please!” I shouted as I faded into unconsciousness again. Before I had fainted, I saw someone behind the landlord and I fell into the darkness before I could warn her.

The landlord gasped in horror and she called for help.

When I came to again, I was laying on my bed and I felt tight bandages around my head. I groaned, trying to get use to the bright light. When my eyes adjusted, I saw Windsor sitting on the old brown chair beside my bed, asleep with bandages around her right foreleg.

‘How did I get here,’ I thought as I looked around my room.

I owned a house, and the office was about 12 blocks away, but I didn't know Windsor knew where I lived. She stirred slightly, and I nearly jumped when I saw Banana Cream in the doorway. She winked, and disappeared, leaving me with a near heart attack. I struggled, but eventually stood up, and hopped out of bed, before going to the bathroom, and looking at my head wound. There was a blood stain on the bandages, indicating that I was struck multiple times, and there was a slight crack in my raven like beak. I looked myself over, and all down to my panther like tail was alright, except for my head. I opened the medicine cabinet beside the mirror, and took out a pack of cigarettes, a tablet of ibuprofen, and a lighter.

I downed the pill, and lit a fag as I went to the kitchen to make pancakes for my guest and I. I stopped and looked at the peeling, stained, yellow wallpaper and groaned in irritation. It was just awful.

I finished making the coffee, pancakes, and cereal when Windsor limped in.

“Morning sunshine,” I said as the dull pain in the back of my head continued.

“Morning Olly, are you ok,” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I said, as I removed the bandages, and ruffled the feathers on my head. The wound was still there, but it had stopped bleeding.

“I made you breakfast,” I said, gesturing to the food on the table.

She licked her lips, and ran to the table, as I went to my room, and put on a clean white button up shirt, and a black tie. When I got back to the table, I saw Windsor eating all three pancakes I made, but I didn't mind, so I poured myself a bowl of cereal and dug in.

“Nice house,” she said between bites.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I heard you made sergeant major in the griffin military,” she said, clearly trying to get me to speak.

“That was a long time ago,” I said, as I took another bite of my cereal.

“Come on Olly, how have you been,” she asked.

“Alright I suppose,” I said.

“Do you have anyone in your life,” she asked sheepishly as she looked down at her lap.

“What do you mean,” I asked.

“Do you. Have a. Have a marefriend,” she asked as she began to fidget.

“No,” I said, confused.

“I don't have a buckfriend,” she said quickly.

“What're you getting at Windy,” I asked, using her old nickname.

“Nothing,” she squeaked sheepishly.

I raised an eyebrow, but dismissed her antics.

“Ready to go? We still gotta catch whoever stole our evidence,” I said as I put on my coat and hat.

I opened the door, and saw the newspaper on my doorstep.

Police Commissioner Red Glare Orders City Wide Hunt For His Missing Daughter Glowing Glare!

‘Shit,’ I thought as Windsor followed me out the door.

“That’s gonna complicate things,” she said.

“Car searches, and ID checkpoints,” I agreed.

“I got a feeling,” I said.

“What,” Windsor asked as we walked to the garage.

I opened the garage, and she gaped, and asked, “Is that-"

“The fastest car in Equestria five years ago. This is a ‘51 Hudson Hornet,” I said, gesturing to the white car with red steel rallye wheels, and lettered tires.

“Racing spec,” she said in awe as we walked closer to the dusty car.

“Yep,” I said as I opened the door, and took the key off of the dashboard and put it in the ignition, and clutched in. We sat down, and the car turned over, and roared to life.

“Is that a standard four speed,” she asked as I shifted into first gear.

“Yep,” I answered before parking on the driveway, and getting out to close the garage.

I got back in, and saw Windsor trembling with excitement. I stepped on the gas, and took off down the street. I turned right at the intersection, and blew through the red light before downshifting into second, and fishtailing into an alley to the left. We passed the police checkpoint, and turned onto the next boulevard before stopping outside of the Dry Throat pub.

“What are we doing here,” Windsor asked as I turned off the car.

“I got a contact, who might know what’s going on,” I said before we got out, and went inside.

There was no one there except for the bartender. He was a jet black pegasus with an electric blue mane, and he stopped wiping the bar, and adjusted his glasses as he looked at us.

“What're you doing here,” he asked.

“I need some information about a foal napping,” I said.

“Shit,” he said.

“Come on Ozzy, it would be a shame if your wife found out about you know what,” I said maliciously.

He sighed before giving in.

“Alright, it's a small gang, they call themselves the Twelve O’clock Hunters, and they were gonna ransom her before selling her to the zebras as a slave,” he said grimly.

“Where are they,” I asked.

“I only know where one of their low level gals lives, and that’s off of Maple and Barnes Drive down south. Apartment 6, door 3. Her name is Eve, and she's a griffin with brown feathers,” he said as he got back to work.

I nodded at Windsor before we went back to the car.

“What's the story between you and him,” she asked as I fired up the car.

“Ex mobster, almost did a bid in the pen, but I got him off the hook, and he became an adulterous prick,” I said as we took the same route around the checkpoint.

We arrived at the apartment, and I saw the griffin in a car. It was a Blue Chevy Bel Air with a hockey masked mare behind the wheel. The front bumper was bent, and missing the front licence plate.

I knew the moment she noticed me that things was going to get rough.

She yelled at the driver, and they took off with me following them. I hit 110 mph and was closing in on the chevy as we followed the street, but I slammed on the brakes as it was blindsided by a pick up truck.

“Dammit,” I yelled as we screeched to a halt behind a truck.

I drew my gun, and ran to the accident. Eve was barely alive, and unconscious, but the driver was crushed by the truck.

“Fuck,” I yelled.

I ran to the truck, and saw the driver was dead.

“Fuck,” I yelled again before I noticed ropes and a big flower sack in the bed.

I grabbed both, and put away my gun, and pulled the griffin out of the truck, and drew my pocket knife before cutting off her talons, and binding her broken wings to her sides, and tied her forelegs behind her back. I tied her beak shut, and tied her hind legs together, and putting her into the back, before tying it shut, and tossing it into the trunk.

‘Now to avoid police checkpoints,’ I thought.

“Luna dammit,” I yelled before getting into the car.

“Did you just throw her in the trunk,” Windsor asked with distaste.

“Fraid so,” I said as we took off.

End credits

Glenn Miller In The Mood