It's Always The Quiet Ones.

Frank pushed his chair away from the cluttered desk and heavy-handedly shoved the ink-scrawled papers in a draw.

"Am I getting a little too carried away with this business?" he thought to himself, straightening. Maybe, but despite the handwritten report he had completed being somewhat aggressive, he knew that this was what it had come down to now. This wasn't police work; this was a brawl in the dark.

'Five days...' thought Frank arching back in the swivel chair that was several sizes too small. Five days and no progress had been made to discovering the identity of the terror group that had rendered Carousel Boutique officially out of business, and claimed the life of Rarities cat Opal.

There had been nothing left of the creature that had once snootily slunk through the Boutique, puffing its chest, and staring at its bejewelled kingdom through dull, wet eyes. Nothing that is, except a foot. A small, charred cats foot, half bone, half burnt fur smattered on a lifeless appendage. He picked it up of course, along with tatters of fabric and scraps of the detonation device that had brought so much calamity to the town of Ponyville. Funny he thought, how a plastic evidence bag could contain the elements of dis-harmony that Equestria could not. Twilight and Rarity's whole world had already crashed around their trembling ears; there was no need for them to see that last decimated piece of Opal.

"Well how did you react when you learnt that the world wasn't made from rainbows and moonbeams? Cause that's all this place was made of..."

Frank said it aloud to the empty, one-roomed police building crammed high with years old papers and tagged evidence. He sat legs apart, clutching at the hip flask with both hands. Clad in pinstripe trousers, the only journey his hands made from the elixir was to brush at the fine stubble of his chin, but even this quickly lost its charm.

He span lazily toward the back wall and glared at the mass of papers that had taken its place. Names, Addresses, businesses, portfolios, criminal records, missing pet posters, all hung lopsidedly like a tramp's wallpaper, stitched together with a dozen yards of red thread. Blurring out of Frank's vision the looping pattern became too much for drunken retinas, which sat stinging in their sockets. It must have been early morning by now, rays of gold flickering through drawn blinds, reminding Frank that he hadn't slept well all week, and with the alternative of all-nighters ending in exhaustion, Frank's resolve told him it was time to walk. The trail had gone colder than a frigid snowman, and if that had already happened the only thing to be done was to wait for the culprits next move and then try to pick-up the trail from there.

Not so favourable considering that the 'next move' would most likely be another bomb scare, undoubtedly more successful than the last. Frank did not want to have to bury any mare, colt, or dare he think it filly, because of his inaction. Seemingly to forget the idea, he walked over to door, complete with peep hole in the splintered wood, and threw it open despite of it's damage. Sunlight washed over his well-angled frame at the same moment his hangover snuck up behind him and punched him in the head.

"Aw for crying out loud,... " Frank winced in the sun's intensity and staggered out the door, snatching his trench coat and fedora from the rack. It seemed totally incredible to him but, striding out and along the cracked paving to the street, the day was starting up just like any other. Giggling fillies being let out to play parks by doting colourful mares, the bluster of salesmen in the market place, shouting out the value of their over-priced vegetables, and far off on the other side of town, the sweet aroma of cupcake mix already being stirred up.

Frank tried to touch his toes to eliminate the revolution that was rising in his spine; a satisfying snap, and it was time to begin the day. Maybe he'd try questioning Rarity today, he thought, the folds of the trench coat taking the shape of the morning breeze. He hadn't seen her since the day of the attack, and the unicorn was probably in all sorts of inner turmoil by now.

Of course, he realised that his presence may equally drive her to emotional ruin. He didn't know how yet, but that had been the outcome of their previous exchanges. Frank stopped still on the street, the bright architecture of Ponyville's residents hemming him in.

'and for that matter, I haven't heard from Twilight in that time...Goddamnit! Is everything in this place so bloody fragile.'
Frank lit up another cigarette in less than ten seconds, with hands experienced enough to complete the action automatically. Two fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and he sighed into his palm.

'Its only gonna get worse from here'
As if by Celestia's divine will there came a crash of metal on stone behind him. Frank swung incredulously round, head and fedora brim tilting back in surprise. Several yards away a grey, winged pegasus was forcing huge wads of envelope into the P.P.D's rusted mailbox. Not deterred by the wooden posts' collapse, the creature had its head seemingly jammed in the flap as it tried to simultaneously press the mail into the metal box and fly backward out of it. Frank strode into a run, and was then looking down at the creature that had sat up, shaking its mail-box of a head from side to side. Frank cursed, taking hold of the metal plates and tugging it off the whinnying pony.

"Hey...HEY! What the hell is this! , No, this is unbelievable is what it is; hey I'm talking to you! Just...just hold still will ya!"
A muffled response came from inside, its downward inflection sounded dejected.

"Just pull your head down!, what am I forklift?"

The box flew off the pegasus with an explosion of white and grey envelopes. A tufty blond mane was flung out, covering the creatures lolling head, which then fell clumsily in front of its face. Frank stood astride, and would have laid into the post-pony for her abysmal conduct if he hadn't heard a faint whinny from underneath the hair. A single tear fell on a paving stone. Most ponies wouldn't have noticed it, but it was Frank's job to have a keener eye than most ponies, and so he instinctively softened his voice.

"Look don't...don't worry about it kid, alright? I'll understand if you were rushed for time, hell it's like MY job description outgrew ME. Hey?"

He put a hand on the ponies back, which flinched in agitation, a shiver traveling all the way down to the bubbles on the her flank. Frank paused,

"I'm sorry I shouted, yeah? Just take your time,..."

"Oh... Its not that mister, I. It's just..." Derpy stood up shakily, sobbing a little and making grabs at the loose mail
"...if I get one more red strike this week then...my supervisor will take away my pay and...and I need it real bad is all..."
Her hair parted and to reveal crossed eyes, evidently watering under the pressure. She blinked back tears.

"I just reeaallly don't wanna work on a farm, too many ponies do, I...I'm just not strong enough a...and..."
Frank wasn't listening, but this time he was justified.

"Holy Shit kid!" he took out the cigarette, holding it between his fingers, his own eyes wide.
"I didn't do that to you just now, did I! " Frank hadn't said he was looking at Derpy's eyes, but she knew what he was referring to right away.

"Wha? N...no, this is...this is just how I am..."
She looked down, with a quivering lip, something didn't seem right. Derpy was standing still for a moment, when Frank got an idea.

'Maybe once' he thought 'maybe just once it would be better to play the good-cop'

"I gotta thank ya really though sport" Frank said smiling. It was a slightly cracked smile, but Derpy looked up all the same as he pulled quill and paper out from an inner pocket.

"You were the last Pegasus I needed to meet to get a full name list of the postal service, what's your name?"
Derpy blinked confusedly, "Derpy, Derpy Hooves mister"

"Well Derpy, I dare say I'd have been looking for you all day if you hadn't bumped into you just now. I was seriously just gonna walk away just now had you not..."

Frank gestured to the broken mailbox

"...shall we say gained my attention?"

Derpy beamed as Frank pretended to write on a blank piece of paper.

"There's a tip in it for you if you'll answer a few questions?
Would you mind sweetheart?"

Derpy excitedly hovered into the air, and spun around.
"As sure is sure mister, am a happy to helps!" and then she added doubtfully " I guess your not's really a monsters like everybody says"

Frank hesitated but maintained a smile. That's the impression he had given the town, he knew, but be couldn't help but feel like he was admitting defeat when hearing it aloud. He pushed the brim of his hat back as if to say 'I guess all ponies aint assholes neither' just in time to notice a shadow momentarily blot out the sun and then glide menacingly on, down the street a little way. Derpy seemed to have noticed it to, and looking up had suddenly become rigid with fear, her hooves clattered slightly on the stone beneath as she began to lower her head.

"What's up kid? Frank asked, but his smile vanished when he noticed the silhouette of claw and feathers descend from the sky.

"Times up loser!"

The beast shouted out in a barely feminine snarl. Impossibly, Derpy lowered her gaze even further toward the ground whilst Frank chose to lower his fortified brow at the intruder. This he knew instantly must be the 'supervisor' that had given Derpy so much grief.

"I give you the simple task of delivering all the special deliveries in this town full of dweebs, and you can't even do that in three minutes? You're a walking joke. A walking joke cos you're too stupid for your wings."

Gilda, the griffin as she was known, landed heavily on the ground and marched up close to the cowering Derpy, of whose eyes were now filling up with fresh tears. Frank would later learn that in recent months Gilda's string of petty crimes and cruel disposition had led to her exclusion in Ponyville, not to mention the loss of her once-friend Rainbow Dash.

Since then it seemed her attitude had only grown worse, teasing children a third her age, and relentlessly bullying the weaker members of the town's population. From the battered postal cap, complete with mail emblem, Frank correctly deduced that her thuggery had spread to the job, and likewise her co-workers were on the receiving end of Gilda's sadism. Derpy whimpered timidly, the feathered mass forcing her back a few steps off the stone path; her tears flowed freely now, any attempt at holding them in had been long forgotten, but it was only when those large, mismatched eyes met with Frank's did he decide it was time to speak up.

He stood closer and took another inhalation from the cigarette, wisps of smoke masking his dark eyes and toned face.
"You want to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

Gilda's large bulk arched around to stare at the policeman.

"Buzz off dumbass!, Celestia might have a thing for shaved bears, but you're as much a freak as this bug-eyed spaz!"
Just as quickly Gilda, snapped back to Derpy, the trauma of the day evidently showing in her small grey face.
"You know it takes a special kind of moron to mess up a post-round don't you..." Gilda pressed up close to Derpy, who turned away sobbing.

"I don't want to use words like 'idiot' or 'dweeb', because there'd be a chance you'd just think I was being mean. I just want to take this moment to tell you just how completely useless you really are, you and that spastic little kid of yours!"
Frank Parkland sighed slightly. "What is it with me and authority this week."

And then he pressed the embers of the glowing cigarette between Gilda's neck feathers.

"... * * * Ggkk!"

Gilda's white and brown plumage humourlessly ruffled from top to bottom like a Mexican wave, her talon based legs seeming a lot less stable as the sensation of burning blew through her nerve endings. Derpy fell back in surprise.
Parkland, (you couldn't refer to him as Frank when he became like this) slid his right hand out from his large trench coat sleeve, a gold and silver watch wrapped around his hulking knuckles. He held it in front of him.

"See this watch, my father gave me this watch." Parkland said smiling at the bittersweet memory on the periphery of his recollection.

Gilda turned round at the same moment the metal clad fist crushed into her face. It knocked her huge form off the P.P.D's front path, and out onto the street. Apart from a few gagging sounds, the griffin didn't speak a word. That's always the way with the parasites of the world, Parkland thought, it's the biggest fish in the lake that refuse to believe they've been caught, even when they're cooking.

From Gilda's position on the dirt curb, beaked face contorted into a pained expression, Parkland's muscular figure filled the entirety of his large brown coat; but it was his un flinching grimace, a twisted look of disgust that told Gilda. That this man had seen things.

"This watch can tell you what the time is in ten different major cities of my world. That isn't anything special nowadays of course, but twenty years ago that was pretty damn neat"

Gilda tried to get up but Parkland was already over her. In a split second she saw the frozen times of New York, London, Moscow and Sydney impact between her eyes, and all signs of movement vanished for a second as she went limp.
"But as much as I love this watch, I think I'm gonna break it today. My dad was great don't get me wrong, and just like me he was also a cop, but he was too good a cop. It was people that dealt in your kind of bullshit what drove him away from the job in the end. People that despised difference, just because it was easy."

Gilda coughed. What little fight was left in her had been knocked away by that second blow.

"J...just stop..." she spluttered.

Parkland lifted the griffin up by her chest feathers so they were face to face. Altogether Gilda must have weighed a quarter ton but Parkland barely noticed.

"That's why I like that kid over there; she has more potential in her than she knows, because she's different from the rest. I only just met Derpy and I can tell she has that spark that gives birth to a unique thinker. You on the other hand...I wouldn't shit in your mouth if you were staving to death."

Gilda struggled feebly, and on cue Parkland threw her to the ground, ripping two fistfuls of feathers out from her heaving torso. The sun's low starting point in the sky threw everything under Parkland's fedora into shade, Gilda cringed in agony.
"I may not be magic, but I'm starting to think I'm psychic. I think I'm psychic cos I got a feeling you aint going to be bugging my gal pal Derpy Hooves no more, or any bodies else for that matter. So you go set her right in the pay-department, only give her manageable jobs from now on, and perhaps I won't confiscate your wings."

Gilda scrambled to her feet, blustered out some manner of confirmation, eyes dilated, and then took uneasily to the sky, evidently an unstable flight due to the damage she had sustained.

"AND NO-ONES MAKES FLUTTERSHY CRY!"

Derpy yelled out after her, plucking up the courage to defend a beloved acquaintance with the shy, nature-loving pony. Her deep voice rang out as a strangely satisfying, non-blond stereotype, just as Gilda managed to clear the tops of the trees, never once looking back.

Frank took the watch off his knuckles revealing an ugly shade of black and blue. He should have wrapped something around them before initiating the beat-down, but he knew that one wrong move could have meant fending off the griffin's razor sharp talons. It was all in the timing, what you had time to do, and what would have taken away the element of surprise.

Frank strolled up to Derpy, somewhat cheerier now thanks to her improved job prospects, and dusted a piece of imaginary lint of his large trench coat cuffs.

"Sorry you had to see that kid,..." Frank took off his hat to rub his forehead.

"I can't control myself much when I meet people like that, you understand right?"
Derpy relaxed into a cross-eyes grin

"In think it's swell you biffed that meanie in the schnoz, now I can buy ditzy her muffin basket from the farmer market"

She nuzzled her soft muzzle into Franks' thigh; he didn't push her away, but neither did he reach out for her.
"I just don't know what to say..."

"C'mon kid, it's fine, really, I,...wait, Derpy..." Frank bent low, his face shimmering with a new idea.
"What was that thing you said about the farmers market"

Derpy's head bent to the side.

"Oh that's easy, I like the muffins and ditzy like the muffins and together we really likes the muffins, so I was gonna buy some-a-da muffins at..."

Frank waved his hand for Derpy to catch her breath.

"No, no not that Derpy, the other thing, what did you say about farming, before that griffin landed, c'mon Derpy, Ponyville is counting on you to remember!"

Derpy shut an eye and stuck out the tip of her tongue, deep in thought.

"I's not as strong as the other farming ponies?..."

Frank placed both hands on the pegasus' small shoulders.

"Not that Derpy, it was something else about farms. What was it, you didn't want to work on the farm because..."

Derpy eyes re-aligned for a moment before rattling back to being skewed, so strained was her thinking at present.

"Too..." she began "Too many ponies work on farms?"

Frank's mouth fell open, and then re-collected itself suddenly, beaming at Derpy.

"That's it... Yeah...THAT was it, Derpy you're fan-fukin genius!

Derpy features lit up, as Frank bolted into the police station. How hadn't he seen it before, Ponyville...no not just Ponyville the whole map of Equestria was governed by medieval customs, he had thought it himself often enough, but it had taken Derpy's 'throw-away' comment to re-establish the evidence chain.

Frank began to throw meter high stacks of paper to the four corners of the room, digging through the piles of tagged evidence like a man possessed. As a medieval land, Equestria and by extension Ponyville, sustained itself largely through agriculture. Consequently the country had never built up an industrial base, meaning that pretty much all products were derived from natural sources, even the dresses in Carousel Boutique were largely silk based, no doubt supplied by generous silk worms.

Frank stood up, puzzled, and then noticed the evidence bag for the 'Boutique-Bombing' (such as the incident had become known) on top a filing cabinet. He opened it and spread the contents out on the desk, Opal's foot bouncing off the wood and under a chest of draws. This meant that anything other than naturally produced materials had to have been imported or otherwise brought into Equestria by private courier.

The small piece of detonation vest shimmered a little as Frank held it up to a naked flame. It was completely synthetic, almost needlessly so. There had of course been the matter of the explosives, but by an ironic twist there was a large possibility they themselves were created from the natural materials found in Ponyville. For four nights Frank had drained bottle after bottle of dandelion wine whilst looking out at the many houses of Ponyville and Canterlot beyond, imagining all the while that in any one of the hundreds of residences, there was an intricate assembly of distillery stands, and bathtubs filled with chemical additives, all hidden from view in a basement dug-out. But now Frank had a starting point, and pocketing the piece of fabric he exited the station for a second time, knowing just who to ask about its origins.