Deadwood's Detective Agency

by Acheron

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad, Original Character, Dark, Alternate Universe, Equestria Girls, Sunset Shimmer, Main 7 (EqG), Profanity, Violence, Human
Length: 22679

When no one else will listen, and you have nowhere else to turn, sometimes it's the Private Investigator that you're going to turn to in your hour of need.

It was Christmas when it all started.

Christmas was an amazing time of year, and it seemed that everything would simply pass by.

Until she stumbled onto a detective's doorstep in the middle of the night, with nowhere left to turn.

Join Deadwood the Detective as he walks through case after case, using connections and common sense to help those who no one else will listen to, sometimes even for free.

Justice sometimes really is its own reward.

(This story was sort of inspired by all the Anon-a-Miss stories I'm seeing pop up. As someone who was out of the loop for a while, this gives me the ability to write interesting case stories, and create something that I've always wanted to make - a detective story. The first chapter is more of an alternate ending to Diann's own Anon-a-miss story.)

(This story is a case-by-case story - if you feel you've got an interesting 'case file', don't hesitate to send it to me!)

Published 2019-06-26 03:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-09-05 12:51:42 UTC

Case File 1 - Anon-a-Missed the Mark

Winter was always a bad time of year. People were always looking for information, looking around for the next big piece of gossip, and paranoid of their neighbours, in case any of them knew something that they did not.

A shaggy head stared at the young woman in front of his desk, his grizzled face twisted in a grimace as he regarded her appearance. Disheveled hair, bruises up and down her nose, she was the picture of a typical scenario where someone had decided they had been through enough, and decided that attempt manslaughter was the best way to solve things.

“So, let me get this straight. Starting with everything… Your name is Sunset Shimmer, you’re involved in a bit of a mess regarding social media, and someone is assuming your previous modum operandi in order to… destroy any possible cohesion that your high school previously had. You will have to give me a minute, because this sounds more like the fairy tale of an overactive imagination.”

“But-” The man held up a hand, sighing. Standing up, he looked out the front window of his establishment, his detective agency. People were always willing to pay a lot of money on what usually amounted to trust issues and paranoia, but it put bread on his table and food in his cat’s belly. Lifting a tan long-coat off of a nearby coat rack, sliding it on effortlessly. Taking a scarf, he motioned towards the doorway, sighing again.

“Let’s go for a walk. You like hot chocolate?” Sunset silently nodded, her blackened eye barely open as she followed the man out of his agency. The night was certainly darker than normal, and most people would have abandoned the streets for their warm homes, but not the man. Turning his key in the lock, he walked closely beside Sunset Shimmer, keeping his hands in his pockets as he stared at the ground.

“Mr. Deadwood, I-”

“Hot chocolate first. You look like you’re freezing, and chocolate seems to help calm the nerves.”

The walk down the street was quiet, almost peaceful, as Deadwood and Sunset Shimmer kept pace beside each other, walking silently. Neither was willing to speak as the snow buffeted against them, the wind starting to pick up as his expression perked up. Ahead of him stood a coffee shop, a tiny establishment that was often open late into the night, if only because the owner was an old friend of Deadwood’s, and the detective had assisted him in discovering who was attempting to shut him down using fraudulent land claims. Big Joe’s Snack Shack was a personal favourite, as the big guy himself was one of the better doughnut artisans in the city.

Crossing the empty street between his block and Joe’s, Deadwood waited for Sunset to catch up, holding the door open for her before following in behind her. Joe looked up from his newspaper, his eyes beaming for a second before he saw the state Sunset Shimmer was currently in.

“Don’t know how you find ‘em, Deadwood, but that one’s got a lot riding on her.”

“I know, Joe. Two double-chocolate stacks, with hot mochas on the side, please.” Joe smiled at Deadwood’s request, nodding and moving behind the long counter as Deadwood and Sunset Shimmer sat opposite each other at one of the few tables inside the small establishment. Watching Sunset shiver as she did reminded him of a lot of the people he had helped or helped get the help they needed over the years, each one a near mess that needed someone to pick them up and put them back together. Sometimes it was him, sometimes it was the police. Sometimes, in the rarest of cases, it was Big Joe keeping them up in his loft as Deadwood tried to find a good, safe place for them to stay while he worked.

“Mr. Deadwood… why are you doing this?” Deadwood stared her dead in the eye, raising an eyebrow before Joe wordlessly walked up, placing two mugs between the two of them. Two double-chocolate donuts sat steaming on plates beside the warm beverages, freshly baked and ready to eat. Without a word, Deadwood lifted his mug, and took a large sip, smiling as the delicious liquid rushed down his throat and warmed his core.

“Ms. Shimmer, your own investigation has thus far been fruitless, and you could not find any evidence to point to who this ‘Anon-a-miss’ was, although you know for a fact it was not you. I will admit, this is like a lot of cases I take on. Cases where the evidence is circumspect unless someone with a trained eye looks at it. I want you to start from the beginning, and don’t leave any details out, please.” Deadwood took out a recorder, placing it between them. “I am going to sit here and listen, because I need to hear your words over something someone else made an assumption for.”

Over the next hour and a half, Deadwood sat still, sipping his hot mocha as Sunset Shimmer cried, sobbed and sputtered each part of her situation to him. From the assumption of her ‘friends’ that she was the guilty party, to the after-school beatdown, the meeting with the ‘Sirens’ - he would have to talk to those three later as a corroboration of Sunset’s story – and even to the fateful meeting in Sugarcube Corner, a sweet shop not ten blocks down from where he sat. Each gruesome detail made his eyes go wider, even if his mouth did not move once during the entire event. His focus was on her eyes, on her body language, the tells if someone is hiding the truth, or falsifying information. Each time she spoke of her ‘friends,’ he watched her get angry. Whenever she spoke of two young men, Snips and Snails – he was going to need to talk to them later; they seemed like the real friends of the young woman in front of him – she would visibly relax, right before tightening up and explaining each bruise, each scar. An entire routine played itself out across her face, an entire song-and-dance that he had not seen in a while. Her words told him that she was convinced she was innocent and being set up, but her body language confirmed it.

Holding up a hand, he tapped a button on the recording device, stopping its intake of information. He pushed his doughnut towards her, as she had devoured hers within the first ten minutes of their talk. Watching her tear into the second doughnut with ravenous hunger convinced him of her fears – she was right to be scared. He had been around the block enough to know how and when to fight, but she was never given that option, and given the circumstances, she was lucky.

“I’m doing this pro-bono, Ms. Shimmer. That means ‘for free.’ I’ve watched a lot of good kids get seriously injured or killed because of incidents like this, and people seem to think that if someone does not show it, they’re not really hurting inside.” He stood up, putting his large hands on both of her shoulders. With a quick motion, he pulled her in close, embracing her in a tight hug. “I know that pain far too well.”

Letting go of her, he stood up, walking over to Joe who shook his head as Deadwood pulled out his wallet.

“This one’s on the house, Detective. Make sure you help her good, right? She seems like a good kid.” Deadwood turned back to the girl who still shivered and shook, but her face was no longer a mask of terror and fear.

“Yeah, Joe. I’m getting that feeling too.”

“Canterlot High School. I always hated this place.” Deadwood walked into the school, being let in by the security guards after he had flashed his Private Investigator identification. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a small Bluetooth earpiece, hooking it over his ear as he pulled a flashlight from his other coat pocket.

High schools were always unnerving at night, the lights out and no one around. It was as if the ghosts of the past really did want to jump out and drag you to hell, sometimes. Shaking his head, he pushed away those thoughts, he walked over to the door marked ‘Library,’ and pushed it open. Another security guard stood at the ready beside a bank of computers, waving them over. Deadwood watched as the guard tapped several keys, logging in the computer to a student account, and one that had been left logged in to a site he never frequented called ‘MyStable.’ Social media was a detective’s best friend in some cases, and in his case, it was a God-send. Often those social media accounts would have an email address associated with them, and if it was being used on a school computer, it would have to be a student email address. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number, letting it ring for a few seconds before a voice clicked on and answered.

“Detective? Are you at the school already?”

“Yes, Ms. Shimmer, I am. I trust Joe is treating you all right?” A giggle from the other end made Deadwood smile. Apparently, Joe had introduced Sunset Shimmer to his adorable niece, Minty. The bouncing in the background meant that they were in the spare bedroom in the area above Joe’s Snack Shack, the area Deadwood had dubbed the ‘loft.’ In essence, it was a small, three-bedroom apartment that had been paid for due to the money awarded Joe in his last legal battle against the corrupt businessman who had attempted to pilfer Joe’s livelihood in a fraudulent case. Deadwood loved putting Filthy Rich in his place at that time – the rich landowner had been beside himself in anger when he had found out.

“Y-Yeah. His niece is really nice. She wanted to show me her doll collection-”

“Auntie Shimmer, Auntie Shimmer! Look at Mr. Fluffybunny!” She was definitely getting on well with the four-year-old.

Returning his attention to the computer, he looked down, scrolling several times as he read each entry, frowning until he found the ‘About’ button. As he read the description, his expression grew ever more sour as he read the address. He was unfortunately familiar with the family in question, and while he had helped them in the past, this particular girl had caused enough damage to seriously impact both her and Sunset Shimmer’s future school lives.

“I’ve got an email address. Seriously, if you’re going to attempt to hide your identity behind something as stupid as ‘Anon-a-miss’ as a pseudonym, might as well state your name out loud for the world to hear.” Tapping a few things into his phone, he sent a single text to Sunset, the email address eliciting a gasp out of her as she looked at her phone.

“No… no it couldn’t be… why would they do this?”

“I honestly would really like to know. I know the family too, and I know this one in particular. Always seemed like a good kid. This, though? This crosses a line.”

The following morning, several students were gathered in the main office of Canterlot High School, three looking very guilty at five very stern-faced older girls. Deadwood stood off to the side, his grizzled face a mask of calm, though inside he was raging. The three younger girls he had gotten the staff at the school to confront had confessed to the entirety of the creation of the social media account, without much prodding on his part.

Of course, the main problem was that the damage had already been done. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy had cut off their friendship with Sunset Shimmer, who was more than happy to leave them behind. After all, she had angrily stated at them, you know who your friends are when the going gets tough, and none of you were willing to listen.

Deadwood stepped into the rant that Rainbow Dash had decided to give the one named Scootaloo, pulling her back.

“That’s enough. You’re as much to blame as they are.” Before she could open her mouth, Deadwood tossed several pictures out onto Principal Celestia’s desk, the half-dead Sunset roped to a pole like some kind of wild animal. “Guess who took these pictures. Go on, guess.”

Rainbow Dash stared, wide-eyed, as the colour drained from her face. Her expression told him all he needed to know as he gently pushed her back in her chair. Dragging another chair towards the group, he faced them all, sitting backwards on the chair as he ruffled his hair in thought.

“It’s not just Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle that are at fault here, ladies. You instantly jumped to the conclusion it was Sunset Shimmer without evidence, only with the experience of her problems over three years. Someone who has actively attempted to cultivate a positive relationship and help people… you immediately cast her aside like flotsam off a sinking ship. The Police Commissioner is coming in soon. He’s currently talking with Gilda and the others that participated in the attempted murder. You’ll find he’s not a patient, nor friendly man when it comes to these things.” The tears began to flow from the eyes of all eight girls present as he turned and walked away without a word. Opening the door, he looked down the hallway, seeing Sunset Shimmer covered in soaked paper towel as she sat crying in a chair further down the hallway. Silently cursing himself, he made his way over to her, sitting down next to her and sighing.

“They’re not my friends. Not after what they did, what she did.”

Deadwood said nothing, only pulling a pack of gum from his pocket and silently handing her a piece. As they silently chewed in peace and quiet, two young men, one short and stout, and one rather tall and skinny, stopped in front of him and Sunset, silently looking at them.

“Sunset, you can always count on us. If you need anything...” Sunset looked up, her eyes red from crying as she stared at them both. The relief in her eyes was almost tangible as the two young men - Snips and Snails, if Deadwood remembered correctly – returned to their current class.

“You’re a good kid, Sunset. It’s the shit like this that ruins the good parts, but it’s like that for a lot of us.” He looked back down at her, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got a proposition for you, and you’re free to say no. It’ll keep you out of a lot of danger, and might actually help you… well, if you could heal from something like this, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”

“W-What are you suggesting?”

“I’ve got a spot open for an assistant. Pays good, decent benefits. My friends are your friends, that sort of thing. Joe’s always got his spare room at the Snack Shack, and his niece has really taken a shine to you.” Standing up, he started walking towards the door. Feeling a sudden tug on his coat, he turned around, raising an eyebrow at the fiery-haired girl.

“W-Will I have to stay at CHS? I-I don’t think I can be here anymore.” Deadwood shook his head, kneeling down and putting his hand on her shoulder. Kneeling in front of her, he was reminded of how tall he was.

“I’ve got a few favours with a certain Crystal Prep Principal. I’m certain if I can call them in, she’ll be more than willing to help with a transfer.” He stood up, holding out his hand in a gesture of agreement. “What do you say?”

Sunset stared at his hand, and then at his face, looking that grizzled man directly in his eyes. A day before, she had stumbled upon his agency almost by chance, as if Fate itself had guided her to it, and he had taken her case quickly enough that it got dealt with faster than she had anticipated.

Taking his hand, she smiled widely and warmly, the first in a while since the whole ‘Anon-a-Miss’ problem had started.

“Y-You’ve got a deal, Mr. Deadwood.”

Case File 2 - Facing the Music

“Mr. Deadwood?”

Fourteen days had passed since the unfortunate incidents regarding students at Canterlot High school. Since then, there had been forty phone calls, seventeen letters, and a couple of attempts at in-person contact, but they had all been turned away. The fiery-haired girl sighed as she entered the small agency, looking around before her ears picked up on a noise coming from a room at the back.

“I hurt myself, today… to see if I still feel.” The song and the guitar meshed so well, and she could have sworn she saw the image of a kindly old man in the back of her head. Shaking it, she walked towards the source of the singing and music, opening the one door to the back a small amount.

“That song was always something that meant a lot. I was once in the same position as all of you, at one point or another, and the urge to do things that might result in… harm, that can seem like a good idea at the time in the short term, but in the long term, all you’re doing is creating a dependency that will end up hurting yourself and everyone who cares about you.”

The door creaked open, startling Deadwood and the seven other people he sat with. Each one had a different musical instrument, and the girl swore she saw several with bandages up to their elbows. She rubbed her own arms out of instinct, remembering the same urge, and how much she had resisted it.

“Ah, my assistant is here. Well, everyone, we will meet the same time next week. Just remember that regardless of how you feel, this is a safe place for you to talk, and everyone here has been through the same things.” With that, the group slowly filtered out, murmuring greetings to the girl who stood in the doorway, her Crystal Prep uniform wet from the snow outside. Deadwood stood up, walking to the door, still holding his guitar.

“I didn’t know you played guitar, Mr. Deadwood,” Sunset stated, placing her school bag on an end table. She took off her school shoes, placing them in a drying bin near the door, and flopped down on the single couch she had managed to convince Deadwood to allow her to bring into the office. Her fiery hair was wet and clinging to her head as she pushed several of her bangs out of her face.

“I don’t like to. Music was never a strong point in my life… not after my parents… well, let’s just say I’m not exactly able to talk with them much. They loved music, but after my departure from them, I couldn’t stand to even look at an instrument. Despite that, for this little support group I run, I can still make some compromises,” he quietly replied, placing the guitar back into an unassuming matte black case. Taking off his jacket, he carefully laid it across the back of his office chair, spinning it until he could easily sit down. “Sunset, it’s a Saturday. You don’t have to-”

Sunset wordlessly tossed a newspaper clipping onto his desk, in regards to someone the papers were calling the ‘Pied Piper.’ Picking up the clipping, he skimmed through the information, trying to discern what was rhetoric and what was fact. The Pied Piper had only left one victim alive, and if he was reading it correctly, it was the sound of a pan flute that preceded each attack. Their other victims had disappeared, no bodies being discovered. The survivor, a young woman about Sunset’s age, named-

“Sunset, the survivor is one of those girls from CHS. One of your-”

“Former friends, yes. They tell me they’re serious about trying to patch things up with me, but all they want to do is cry and apologize. Considering what they did to me, it’s not something I can forgive so easily.” She started to go through her school bag, pulling out a three-ring-notebook and a math textbook. Retrieving a pencil and an eraser, she started to work through the assigned problems, sighing as she felt her pocket buzz again. Snapping it out, she looked down at the name, seeing ‘Rainbow Dash’ as the Caller ID.

“Here, let me talk to them, Sunset.” Without another word, Sunset handed her phone to Deadwood, who initiated the call. “Hello, Ms. Dash. This is Detective Deadwood.”

“H-Hey… um, we’re trying to call Sunset and apologize- okay, I’m trying to call and apologize, because the other girls aren’t here. Detective… have you heard of the Pied Piper?” Deadwood almost dropped the phone in response, quickly keeping his grip steady as he listened.

“Yes, I have. Was just made aware- no, I wasn’t aware of that- yes, Ms. Dash, I could look into it- my prices are fair and reasonable. Have your parents give me a call if you’re this concerned. Otherwise, please leave Ms. Shimmer alone. Do I need to remind you of the stipulations of a restraining order, Ms. Dash?” The voice on the other end choked for a minute, coughing hard before catching her breath. “I didn’t think I needed to. That includes contact through phone, landline or cell. No- listen here- no, you listen- wait, seriously? Okay, come by my agency, and we’ll talk. Only you and me. The constraints I made sure of are still in place. Don’t forget that.”

Ending the call, he tossed the phone back to Sunset, who stared at him in fear. Ten days prior, they had all ended up in a court hearing, to determine how best to keep Sunset Shimmer protected from any further issues. Of course, Deadwood’s idea of prison time had been downright rejected, but a restraining order – the suggestion courtesy of Principal Celestia, of all people – had been accepted, with the main stipulations of zero contact. Of course, Deadwood had anticipated that there would be issues, which is why he often fielded Sunset’s calls. It made most people think twice about talking, and a few of them seemed like they were trying to get through if only to ridicule her for some reason or another. As he had said fourteen days ago, ‘the damage is already done.’

Sunset sat there in silence, tears starting to fall as she looked at her employer, her eyes wide in fear and shock. Deadwood knew she was suffering from a pretty intense form of post-traumatic stress disorder, and he knew that even seeing Ms. Dash could cause an intense relapse of emotion and pain. It was not something he wanted to do, but Rainbow Dash supposedly had information he could use. After all, according to the rainbow-haired soccer player, the other five had somehow gone missing. She herself had heard the pipe music, and instead of following it, had turned around.

“Sunset, you can go over to Joe’s. I’m sure Minty’s waiting for her favourite Auntie to show up.”

“Why.” That one question, filled with an intense amount of emotion, hit him like a bullet. She seemed to feel that he was somehow betraying her, betraying her trust. Crossing his arms, he put his head down on his desk, staring at the entranceway. He hated when he had to play devil’s advocate, and in his life, he had needed to just to keep people safe. It did not make it any easier when he did so, it just made it easier for him to hide how he felt.

“Because the Pied Piper appears to be targeting your former friends. I understand you don’t want to see them, and I’m giving you a way out. Joe’s always got a room for you to sleep in, and Minty’s always happy to see you. But this is serious, and as a former member of law enforcement who kept at his job like how I am now, I can’t ignore this. Besides it being a paying client, the Pied Piper is someone who need to be brought to justice.” He slid out a drawer in his desk, retrieving a small snub-nosed device that made Sunset inhale sharply. Popping out the cylinder, he loaded his Coltfield Special, making sure he had extra ammunition in a belt he tightened around his waist. He looked up to see the tears in Sunset’s eyes as he set his own face, a mask of anger trying to be overcome by the little voice telling him not to leave her alone. Lifting his jacket, he swung it around and slid his arms quickly through the sleeves.

“W-what? Why are you getting a firearm ready?”

“Because something about this feels incredibly fishy, and Joe’s got the most secure building in the area. Not even my agency would be secure,” Deadwood explained, sighing as he dropped down onto his chair. He hated even feeling that revolver in his hand, an echo of bad memories that had always haunted him, but today? It was going to most likely be one of those kinds of days, the ones where someone was not going to want to talk, and instead, they preferred to fight. He hated those styles of confrontations, as they almost inevitably ended in him almost losing his license and almost killing the criminal. Justice was justice, but when it blurred between justice and vengeance, it was impossible to discern between the two.

“If the Pied Piper is targeting those girls, there’s a chance that the person who is coming here is not Miss Dash, but someone else. Maybe. No one knows anything about how he does it, as evident by the clipping you gave me.”

“I-I’ll get going. B-but I e-expect double, Mr. Deadwood.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get what you’re due, Sunset. That’s not the problem.”

Grabbing her kit and uniform, she slowly walked toward the door, as Deadwood slid out an old picture of a group of friends from his childhood. Each one held a special instrument, Deadwood with his electric guitar, and his friends with various instruments. One stood out to him as he pulled out an old yearbook to reference the picture. One of his friends, clearly in the photo, held a pan-flute, and the look on their face was not one of friendship, but one of malice. As he remembered, he could recall that his parents had been having disagreements with him about that person, calling him an extremely bad influence, someone to avoid, and something clicked in Deadwood’s head.

The door jingled as someone either entered or exited, and he looked up, seeing the girl with the rainbow hair standing in his doorway in an… odd position. She was glancing all over the place as she walked towards his desk in silence, her pupils pinpricks as she took a seat, her hands balled up on her knees as she stared at the ground.

“I-Is Sunset here?”

“No. Do I have to explain restraining orders to you again? Because if I have to, then I think this is going to be a long day. Speak quickly, before I start realizing how bad of an idea this is.”

“B-But I need to talk to Sunset-”

Deadwood rubbed his forehead. Rainbow Dash sounded like a broken record, repeating every request she had made over the phone as she talked to him. Each one sounded like pleading, but there was something missing, and his mind clicked as he realized the missing piece – her voice was almost robotic, barely changing in tone. The Coltfield Special held in his hand underneath the desk, he pushed his yearbook over to her as he pointed to one picture, bringing special attention to the expression on the child’s face.

“You survived this man’s talent? I… don’t think you did.” Her reaction was almost too fast for him to catch, but his honed reflexes kicked in, catching a hand with a knife before forcing her to drop her weapon. Dragging her across the desk, he tossed her into a nearby filing cabinet. “You’re nothing but a puppet, just like I was when I was a kid.”

“I need to talk to Sunset. That’s what friends do, right?” Her expression had shifted from the teary-eyed blank stare of before to the malicious smile of the person he had once known. Pressing against her, he held his arm against her throat as he lifted her, his own face heating up with the rage he had not known he possessed.

“How about you settle down and we talk about this-” He blocked a knee aimed at his side, lifting and tossing her onto his desk. “-like rational people?!”

The tossing had activated something Deadwood had seemingly forgotten about, and a song began to roll from speakers he had forgotten about as Rainbow Dash held her hands up to her head, seemingly in pain as she tried to block it out. Letting go of her, he reached underneath his desk, retrieving a remote. Increasing the volume, he smiled as he started singing along.

“Can we live a real life between the devil and the digital sea?” With that final line, Rainbow Dash looked around with surprise before she smiled and started nodding her head to the song. Slumping down into his chair, Deadwood stared in shock. He had not expected that whatever ‘control’ the Piper had, it could be broken so easily by something simply overpowering the ‘control sound,’ or whatever it was called. He opened his drawer again, tossing in the revolver and the ammunition belt, and snatched up his guitar case.

As the song ended, Rainbow Dash stood up straight very quickly, her cheeks burning bright red as she looked from the damage to the agency to the knife laying on the desk right next to her. Rolling backwards, she sat back in the chair she had been sitting in, staring wide-eyed in fear at the detective who was… grabbing a guitar case?

“Well, it seems that I managed to ‘break’ that bastard’s control. You know, he’s probably the reason I had a falling-out with my parents. I desperately wanted to do music, to the detriment of everything else, and it nearly cost me. Now, Miss Dash, would you mind grabbing that amp over there? My car’s not far from here, and I need some help lifting it.”

“M-Mr. Deadwood? How did I get here? Why-ow… what happened to me?”

“You attacked me while under the Piper’s control. I defended myself and accidentally turned on my stereo system. It broke the Piper’s control, and now you’re confused, since your actions since your phone call have not been your own. At least, that’s the assumption I’m making, because if you decided on your own to come here and commit attempted murder, then you’ll have to sit there while I call the police. However, seeing as an accidental discovery has created our current advantage, I would like to capitalize on it. Though we do have to make a quick… stop. Now, in regards to this ‘stop,’ I have to mention that, if you say anything about it to anyone, you will find yourself on the business end of a very painful subpoena, you get me?

Rainbow nodded quickly as she lifted his guitar amp, feeling the sheer weight of it as it brought a smile to her face. Guitar players often picked a small amp if they were simply going small time, but the sheer weight of his amp made her raise an eyebrow as she followed closely behind the detective. Her mind was a flurry of thoughts, but she kept wondering-

“Why do you not like your own music?” Deadwood stopped and turned back towards Rainbow, raising an eyebrow as he looked her dead in the eyes. No one had ever really asked him why he had ever quit music, or why he refused to use his own instrument without a good reason, but the one person he had expected to be afraid of him had picked up on something that no one else had been. He turned back, retrieving a set of keys from his pocket as he stopped near a rather unassuming tan sedan, the back seat old and weathered, just like him.

“My music almost destroyed my life. The Piper, well, I think you remember your former Siren opponents, right? His power seems to work like theirs, except more insidious. It worms its way inside your head, making you believe whatever he tells you. Took me years of therapy just to figure out what he put in there and what was real. He put an obsession with music as a sort of… control. He was always obsessed with that old tale about the Pied Piper and the rats...” Deadwood trailed off as he unlocked the sedan, tossing his guitar case into the back. “Put the amp carefully there. Damn thing probably weighs more than you do.”

Rainbow obliged quietly, watching the movements of the older man as she thought back. There was someone speaking to her before, and his words had seemed so… easy to follow, to obey. It definitely felt similar to the Sirens, but she could not figure out in what way. After she had called the detective, there was a distinctive blank in her memory, which concerned her.

“Hop in. You’re gonna take me to where you were last when you heard his music. It’s time we-”

“Mr. Deadwood? I have to make a stop first.” Deadwood raised his eyebrow as he sat down in the driver’s seat, unlocking the passenger door as the rainbow-haired teenager settled herself in.

“What’s the stop?”

“I need my guitar.”

The stop at Rainbow Dash’s residence was a quick and quiet one, though the tripping and clumsiness did not strike Deadwood as particularly stealthy. A wait of fifteen minutes allowed him enough time to retrieve a cellphone from his glove box, checking several messages. He had given the number of the phone to Sunset in case of emergencies, and nothing had been sent his way, so he allowed himself a moment’s respite as Rainbow came sprinting out.

Tossing her guitar in the back, she hopped into the passenger seat, almost bouncing in excitement. Raising an eyebrow yet again, Deadwood backed his sedan out of their driveway, placing a cassette into his car’s old stereo as he held the old leather of the wheel.

“So, fighting a bad guy with music. Not my weirdest style of work, but still, it’s up there. You really want to do this, Rainbow? After all, this is not your average musician we’re dealing with. The main thing we have to focus on is his flute. Keep the sound of that lower than the guitar, and I think we might have a winning combination.”

“Mr. Deadwood, why are you helping me like this? You were reminding me earlier of restraining orders, a-and-”

“Kid, there’s a lot of mistakes people make in this world of ours. Making up for it by bringing a criminal to justice? Hell, there’s easier ways to atone, but we’ve passed the point where you can just leave. If we’re going to do this, we see it through to the end. Got it?”

Rainbow nodded as he drove on through the encroaching darkness, his headlights cutting a swath through the black as a small amount of snow began to drift into view. She looked out the window, staring at the lights of Canterlot becoming distant, like a fading memory as she watched the snow fall harder and harder. Her eyes drooped lower as she started to drift off to sleep, the man at the wheel snatching an old blanket from his back seat and tossing it over her.

“Kids these days. No energy. But at least I know where I’m going, don’t I, Blank Bliss?” His thoughts drifted back to his childhood, to a singular building that the damnable prick he had remembered as the Piper obsessed over, a small, rundown shack of a house that he had said he once lived in. Knowing that no one had lived there for years, they always laughed at the idea. Unfortunately, one day, everyone stopped laughing, and started listening.

On that day, everything had changed. No one would talk to one another, everyone would simply talk with Blank Bliss, his words their entire world. Relationships ended and began on a whim, his own perspective warped by that damnable asshole’s silver tongue. Even thinking about it made his blood boil as he turned off the main highway onto an unkempt gravel road, a rusted old gate hanging from disused hinges. The snow began to slow, few flakes falling as he pulled up to an old estate he remembered as the White Gables Farm. A lot of disappearances had been linked with the estate over the years, but few people ever linked the disappearances with Blank Bliss and his silver tongued ways.

Shaking Rainbow awake, he pointed to the house, his face an expression of anger.

“This is where he is. I’ll bet on it.”

“Where who is?”

“Blank Bliss.” He stepped out of his sedan, slamming the door shut in an attempt to create as much sound as possible. Almost a whisper, he could have sworn he heard crying and screaming like echoes on the wind as he pulled out his guitar case. Rainbow followed suit, snatching up his heavy amp as well, standing beside Deadwood as he stood in front of the old house. Stepping onto the porch, he looked around, seeing multiple footprints nestled in the packed snow, snow that had not been moved in ages.

Pushing the front door of the building open, he sighed, staring at the walls. Fresh photos had been placed, and the teens in the pictures made his blood boil. As he looked, he saw the progression from unwilling kidnapping victims to willing followers. His fist clenched as he came to one last frame, empty and awaiting a new photograph. A voice creeping up behind him sent a shiver down his spine as he listened.

“The master bids you welcome, Deadwood. He has dearly missed you for his… ambitions.”

Spinning around, Deadwood came face-to-face with the missing girls, Rarity, Pinkie, Applejack and Fluttershy all wearing rather revealing Prench outfits. They looked barely awake, and in the case of Fluttershy, barely alive. Marks were up and down her arms, as if she struggled.

“They always struggle at first, you know.”

“The Pied Piper.” Deadwood silently motioned at Rainbow to place down the amp quietly, and plug in his and her guitars.

“It’s been, what, twenty years, Deadwood? And still you can’t escape my voice. Like a little earworm that’s taken root-”

“It’s been twenty years, Blank. Long enough to know that your little tricks don’t work on people older than twenty. But right now, I would like to treat you to a little music. You always did say you loved my guitar the best, though I think it was more because you played me like a puppet.” As he said ‘now,’ Rainbow flipped the switch on the amp’s power supply, letting the crackling surge into life as two guitars hummed. Blank Bliss stepped out from behind the girls, his long brown hair tied back into a manageable ponytail, his pale white skin a testament to his unwillingness to go outside. His clothes were a reeking mess, an old, patchwork hoodie covering him from head to toe, and even Deadwood had to steel himself in order not to retch at the wafting scent.

Picking up his guitar, he strummed a small chord, watching the reactions of the girls behind Blank Bliss, their eyes starting to squint in pain as Deadwood strummed. Reaching down, he turned the dial up, pushing the sound louder and louder.

“You can’t break them out of my control, Deadwood! It’s useless-”

“No, Blank Bliss. You’re useless. You wasted your talents, your life, and now you want to ruin everyone else’s over, what, petty revenge? How about I bring up something I know brings things back to reality?”

“Mr. Deadwood?” The strumming of his guitar accompanied his words, as the song grew louder as the amp was increased in volume.

“I look into the mirror and I hate what I’ve become, ‘cause I’m the only casualty of damage that I’ve done...” Keeping on the beat and tempo, Rainbow joined in, filling in the parts Deadwood was not able to continue on, watching her friends clutch and grab their heads as Blank Bliss fell to his knees, his eyes wide-eyed in shock and fear as he listened to the song. Deadwood witnessed as hundreds of emotions filled the Piper’s face, tears streaming down his face as the song continued, the guitars meshing as a light began to fill the room.

“I’m the only enemy in World War Me!” With the final part of the song played, a wave of white energy flowed from Deadwood and Rainbow Dash, the combined energy lifting and slamming Blank Bliss into the wall. Sliding down slowly, he crumpled into a heap at the base of a nearby cabinet, its silhouette revealed by the blinding light. Blinking, Deadwood looked over at the girls, sighing in relief as he watched them stare around in shock and fear, their expressions filled with confusion and anger. Turning to Rainbow Dash, he placed his hand on her head, smiling as he patted her twice.

“You did good, kid. You know, why don’t you come by the office on Friday next week? You might fit in well with some people I know.” She shivered as she looked over at her friends, rushing over to hug them tightly as Deadwood made his way over to the stirring Blank Bliss. Reaching down, he lifted the younger man by his collar, holding him up against the wall.

“H-Heh. You grew a backbone, Deadwood.”

“Shut up, Blank. You’ve controlled and killed for far too long. This time, you’re going to be behind bars for a long time.” Lifting him up, Deadwood tossed him out of the front door of the house, flipping out his phone as he dialed a number quickly. “Yeah, Officer Shield? This is Deadwood. I’m at the White Gables Farm estate. Yes, I know that it’s considered off-limits. No, this is in regards to the Pied Piper- yes, the girls are fine, if somewhat frozen. Yes, an ambulance would be fantastic. See you in twenty.”

Carefully making his way down the steps after the criminal who was trying to crawl away, he once more lifted Blank Bliss, and held him up. He pointed him towards his own car, pushing him down with an elbow as he held him in place. Blank grew a wide smile as he started to purse his lips, as if to whistle when Deadwood punched him square across his jaw.

“Just be glad I’m not doing worse to you. You’re a deviant, Blank. Always have been. Nowadays, there are doctors perfect for you. You’re gonna get help, but you’re not gonna get away from the justice you deserve.” Almost as if on cue, several police cars came speeding up the driveway, sliding into position as a pair of ambulances followed closely behind. Officers swarmed around Deadwood as he lifted Blank Bliss, holding him steady as they handcuffed and gagged him. As he watched the officers drag away the criminal he had known since his youth, he leaned back against his car, sliding down into the snow as he started to feel a chuckle rise up into his mouth. Another person sat down next to him as they closed the door on the side of his sedan, sighing and smiling.

“Is this what it’s like for you, Mr. Deadwood?”

“Just Deadwood, Rainbow Dash. And yeah. Sometimes it’s not as exciting, sometimes it’s simply weird, but in the end, I get the job done. I’m just glad we got here when we did. Your friends-” he motioned to the ambulance where four girls were covered in blankets and were being given warm beverages and soup “-are going to need you to stay around them. You’re loyal, but you’re also pretty hot-headed. I know you want to make amends with Sunset, but she’s not ready for that yet. I don’t know if she’ll ever be.”

“Detective?” A tall officer walked towards him, her swaying grace hinting at an agility that had given her an edge in her preferred employment.

“Officer Iron Shield. Thanks for everything. Blank used to be a good kid, but he’s a menace to society, and to himself. He doesn’t need jailtime, he needs psychiatric help.” Shield nodded at him, shrugging as she looked around. Familiarity broke across her features as she took in the old farm.

“We used to love playing music here, didn’t we?” Deadwood smiled, standing up slowly. Holding out his hand, he helped Rainbow up as well, sighing as he looked at the snow in the sky.

“Yeah. Bastard kinda ruined it for us.”

“Yeah, he did. Well, we’re going to take the other girls home, and take Blank Bliss to the Canterlot Psychiatric Ward. The doctors there should be able to give a treatment suggestion. Hope we meet again in better circumstances, Detective.” With that final word, Officer Shield returned to her squad car, following closely as the other squad cars and the ambulances drove away.

Opening his car door, Deadwood sighed as he looked at the old farm house, a tear falling from his eye as he closed the chapter in his mind. A man he had once called friend was now in custody for kidnapping, and most likely reckless endangerment, among other charges. A man that had taken his own control away from him when he was younger, until he moved away and never contacted him again. He smiled as Rainbow took her seat, buckling in. Pushing lightly on the pedal, he sped away into the night, leaving an old memory behind.

A month's passed since the incarceration and committing of the Pied Piper, a man who was not shown in any newspapers, only talked about. Deadwood's visited the hospital, only to see a drooling mess of a former man. The last visit he made, the doctors had told him that Blank Bliss was almost catatonic. Something had reacted badly, and he could barely function. He was not brain-dead, but he was effectively paralyzed. He knew no one deserved to live like that, even an old enemy, but even he could not bring himself to ask if they could do something for him.

Rainbow Dash decided to join his weekly meetings, sharing her own problems with depression and anxiety. She even brought an acoustic guitar to join him in the songs he would play for them. Her addition to the group was something that was well-received, as her energy was something that gave the group hope and a good amount of brevity in a day of misery.

The other four are still wary of anyone they don't know. Their protective instincts took over and they broke off a lot of contact with others. Unsurprising, but not entirely shocking either.

“You know, you made a lot of money from those girls’ parents thanks to their safe return and the capture of the Piper, right?” Sunset Shimmer closed her Journal, staring at Deadwood as he pulled out a remote. Raising an eyebrow, she watched as he turned on an old sound system, playing a soft, classical tune that calmed the nerves and sharpened the mind.

“Yeah. Your pay has already been sent to your account. Though, I’m curious. Why did you decide to make your home permanently at Joe’s?”

“Because his niece needs a positive female figure in her life. Her parents are stuck somewhere on the other side of the world, and they’re not there for her anymore.” Sunset picked up the folder marked ‘Piper,’ and filed it away in a nearby cabinet, tapping the drawer twice as she shut it. “Another case closed, and yet, I don’t think you’re even close to an ending, are you, Mr. Deadwood?”

“Unfortunately, Sunset, with stories like his, it’s only just beginning.”

Case File 3 - Not Your Usual?

Springtime was always a busy time for those who needed investigations done. Deadwood sifted through one of the thirty-six requests he had on his desk, and sighed. Rainbow was off with her family, having left her guitar with him to take care of until she got back to help with the support group – after her association with Gilda and the ramifications of her accusations regarding the ‘Anon-A-Miss’ incident had allotted her two thousand hours of community service – and Sunset had gone off on a vacation with Big Joe and Minty, leaving him by himself. He hated being alone, especially with how much work he normally did without assistance.

“Twenty requests for surveillance on husbands – geez, I’m a detective, not an investigative journalist. Do your own snooping. Junk. Ten missing persons requests, five having been sent from the Commissioner himself. Not enough time in the day for the amount I’m seeing. And the requests are a year old or more too… dammit, I may be good, but I’m not a miracle worker.” Leaning back in his chair, he set the paperwork down, sighing as he ran his hand through his shorter hair. Sunset had insisted on giving him a haircut and beard trim one day, and he had been impressed enough that he had kept the hair trimmed.

The bell of the front door chiming had him leaning forward to look for whoever it was that entered while he was the only one working. As he scanned the room, he saw nothing, until a small bear was placed on his desk. Sighing, he stood up, raising an eyebrow as he heard giggling. Leaning around the side of his desk, he saw a small child with sky-blue, two-toned hair smiling and giggling as his front door chimed again for a second time.

“Cozy! Now leave the poor detective alone!” Deadwood turned and stood up straight, staring at the Police Commissioner and his wife, Golden Glow. Chuckling, he picked up Cozy’s bear from his desk and knelt down, handing it back to her. As she snatched it, she darted back behind her parents, who smiled warmly at the detective.

“Sorry to be a bother, Deadwood. It’s not every day that I get to just escape from work and have a family day.”

“No problem, Irons. I trust this is just a social call?” Commissioner Irons shrugged, pulling a chair up as he looked around.

“Mostly. Cozy’s in need of someone to watch her while my wife and I get some things taken care of. She’s a rather rambunctious little tyke, so keep a very close eye on her.” Deadwood smiled at Cozy, who planted her hands on Deadwood’s knees and jumped up and down.

“Jump! Jump! Wanna jump!”

With a smile, Deadwood picked up the small child, bouncing her on his knee as he flipped through files, trying to keep his attention on the giggling little girl on his knee while also continuing his search for a proper case that was not something he could just pass off to one of the few investigative journalists he knew. As he flipped through them, he noticed that the giggling had stopped. Glancing over at his knee, Deadwood noticed that Cozy was staring at a particular case file that he had yet to open. It was not there when he looked earlier, but he reminded himself that sometimes he did have a tendency to overlook small details if he was not focusing. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that Cozy had her eyes glued to the folder, as if it held some kind of magical power.

Reaching out with his other leg and pulling another chair for the small girl to sit on, he plopped her down, grabbing her bear to hand off to her as he reached for the file with his free hand. Flipping it open, he could see the determined scrawl of the Police Commissioner’s handwriting, Irons’ distinctive signature designating it all as official paperwork.

“Snuck a case on me, didn’t you? Well, what are friends for, huh? You’re certainly gonna owe me for this one, Irons.” Deadwood smiled as he started reading, the smile fading as he realized what he was reading. Two homicides, and two kids put in the hospital in critical condition, all of them killed in identical ways. Both were students, and they were attending a school with which he was unfortunately familiar. Cozy looked up at him as he bit his lip, his expression growing ever darker.

“Unca Deadwood?” Deadwood looked down at the girl, sighing as he stood. Walking over to his coat rack, he lifted his hat, breathing slowly as he closed his eyes.

“Cozy, how would you like to go for a drive with your uncle?” The happy giggling and bright smile was all the response Deadwood needed. With a flip of his coat, he dressed up, making certain his agency badge was clearly visible. Cozy rushed up beside him as he lifted a cellphone to his ear.

“Sunset? Yeah, it’s Deadwood.”

“Deadwood? What’s going on? I’m in the middle of my trip with Joe and Minty.”

“Right, right. Well, have fun on your vacation.” With a click, he ended the call, sighing as he looked down at Cozy. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”

The sedan rumbled to a halt in the parking lot set beside Canterlot High School. Deadwood had not been back since the ‘Anon-a-Miss’ incident, but he had to check up on a hunch, and his own thoughts needed to be clarified. As he stepped out, he could see a pair of police officers standing at the doorway, guarding what looked like a freshly installed metal detector. With a heavy sigh, he took off his hat, tossing it into his car while he picked up Cozy and approached them.

“Officer Shield.” The one whose name he called jumped rigid, turning to face him before her face softened and a bright smile crossed her face. That expression fell instantly when she saw the badge pinned to his shirt, and the sour expression he wore.

“This isn’t a social visit, is it?”

“’Fraid not, Iron. This is about the case that Chief Irons left me with today when he left his daughter in my care for the day.”

“Not very fair of him to push both on you. Sword, you got this?”

“Yes ma’am. Won’t let anything get past me.” Iron and Deadwood left Officer Sword at the front entrance as he waved students through one at a time, stopping whoever caused it to beep. Shaking his head, Deadwood glanced around and set Cozy down on her feet.

“All right, Cozy. Stick close with Uncle Deadwood. Go ahead and hold onto my coat if you want to.” With a smile and a half-buried face peeking up at him from his jacket, Deadwood smirked as he wandered the halls, glancing around as he realized it was very quiet.

“It’s spring break, Deadwood. Not very many students want to be here. The ones that do are usually a part of clubs or other activities.” Deadwood turned to the voice, sighing when he saw Principal Celestia.

“That’s not actually why I came to talk. You see-”

“And who is this adorable little girl?” Deadwood turned his head to see Cozy bury her face deeper into his coat, hiding behind his leg as he chuckled. Picking the child up, he turned her to face Celestia, smirking as she buried her face in his shirt.

“This is Cozy Glow. Chief Irons asks me every once in a while to watch his daughter, but he sort of dropped a case on me while leaving her with me. But as I said that’s not why-”

“Don’t worry, I’m a friend of Chief Irons. You can leave her with-”

“Celestia, for the love of everything good and wholesome, listen.” Celestia stopped approaching Cozy, her expression immediately flipping from friendly to annoyed. Standing back up, she rolled her eyes slightly, glancing back towards her office. Without a word, Deadwood nodded, following her inside as she slid a chair in front of her desk and took a seat behind it. Closing the door behind him, he took a seat quickly, Cozy balanced on one knee as he sighed.

“Official business, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Unfortunately. This is in regards to the two students that… actually, have you been approached by the police yet? I can’t share details if you have not.” From the stiffening of her shoulders, Deadwood presumed that she had, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course they came to you first. Do you recognize the students in the pictures? I need to be certain before I make a few calls.”

With his free hand, he retrieved the pictures of the students that had met an unfortunate end, and placed them on her desk. The immediate drop of her shoulders made him pay far more attention as she stood up, staring at the wall as she sniffed. He knew the body language well – someone who cared deeply for people, and she knew what he was not asking out loud.

“Snips and Snails. They were good kids… maybe a bit naive, and could hang around with the wrong people sometimes, but their hearts would never let them leave someone in a lurch. I- I had not seem them for a few weeks until the police arrived and showed me those… pictures.”

“A few weeks? How many weeks had they been gone, and how long ago has it been since the police talked to you about it?”

“A-about 2 weeks they were absent, and that was… oh, God, that was three weeks ago.” Celestia slumped down into her chair, the picture in front of Deadwood of a heartbroken mother rather than a principal who had lost two students. He could feel his heart breaking as he watched her body language, but breathing deeply, and a quick reminder to not get attached to the people in a case, kept him from losing his composure. He stood up, setting Cozy down on the chair before approaching Celestia from her side, placing a hand softly on her shoulder.

“Whoever is responsible, I’ll make sure they’re brought to justice. I don’t make any promises, but just… make sure you take care of yourself, okay? Take a couple days off – I know you’re probably busy, but maybe Luna might consider helping you out? I know she’s busy with her vice-principal duties, but you need it. Anyways- where did Cozy go?”

Celestia stared as Deadwood started to panic, looking around the office before throwing her door open, causing her no small amount of worry. With a shout, Deadwood sprinted off as she walked slowly to her door, seeing him kneel down in front of Cozy as she tried to wander into one of the myriad empty rooms in the school. A sad smile crept across her face as she watched Deadwood pick up Cozy and hug her, bouncing her slightly to calm her down. It felt like a movie in her eyes, like watching the character arc of someone who never thought he could care about others, but found that one child who makes him open up to others.

“You really do care about Cozy, don’t you, Deadwood?”

“I don’t have kids of my own, so being a surrogate uncle is better than anything else. Most of what I make goes into my agency, and into a lot of what I do in the community. Cozy, though? She’s a good kid. If I ever get to have kids, I hope they’re just as rambunctious as her.” Deadwood sighed as he looked around the quiet halls of Canterlot High. CHS was certainly a familiar place for him, considering how much he had needed to do to secure Sunset’s transfer to Crystal Prep, but to see it so quiet, so empty, it was somewhat unsettling.

“The quiet gets to me too, sometimes. You hear footsteps in every creak of the doors, students walking the halls as if it was still full.”

“Yeah, it’s… too quiet.”

“Go do what you do, Deadwood.” With a silent nod, Deadwood walked towards the door, where Iron Shield stood still, shaking her head. Tapping her watch, she sighed, motioning towards the door.

“We’ve got work to do, Deadwood.”

“’We?’”

“Sugarcube Corner. It’s near the alley where Snips’ and Snails’ bodies were found. Thought you might want to check it out first. It should still be cordoned off, but that doesn’t mean that people paid attention to the signage. We’ll take your car, right?” Deadwood managed a weak smile at Iron, sighing as he approached his car, opening the rear doors and seating Cozy on the rear passenger seat. Buckling her in, he patted her head, smiling into the little girl’s eyes.

“You doing okay now, Cozy?”

“Unca, we dwiving mo’?”

“Yeah, we’re driving more. Might grab you some ice cream, though don’t tell your dad, okay?”

“Okay!” Shutting the door, Deadwood looked over at Iron, who raised an eyebrow at him. She cocked her head to the side, placing her hand on her hip as she rolled her eyes at him, chuckling as she got in the car. Deadwood hopped in, andwith a quick turn, the sedan rumbled to life, the radio spooling up and playing a song that Deadwood did not remember being on the station he usually listened to, but started nodding to anyways.

“My heart’s a stereo, it beats for you so listen close...” Deadwood smiled, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other tapping away on the center console, only pausing when he felt a hand on top of his. Glancing over, he saw Iron’s hand on top of his. Smiling wider, he kept his eyes on the road as she pulled out a notebook, flipping through pages. He barely even registered that her hand had left his when she spoke up.

“Snips and Snails, age 14 and 15 respectively. Good kids, average grades. The other two… Crystal Prep students, actually. Hospitalized with severe injuries and in critical care. Looks like they arrived at the school in a taxi, actually, according to eyewitness reports from the hospital receptionist and some of the orderlies. Sugarcoat and a… Lemon Zest. Good kids, extremely competitive. Looks like they used to have one intense rivalry with some of the girls from Canterlot High. Last I checked, they were in medically induced comas due to their injuries received. So...”

“So… what are you getting at, Iron? Is it supposed to be some sort of inter-school rivalry? We’re not going to Sugarcube Corner first. I’m going to go talk to someone I’ve had dealings with before. I’m going to need you to keep an eye on Cozy while I do so – the people this girl is helping are not… savory individuals. They’ll probably respond better to me than to you.” As they continued on in silence, the radio quietly singing as they let their minds run through the thoughts they needed to organize, Iron looked down at her notebook, sighing as she closed it slowly.

“It’s Gilda, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. She’s under constant supervision, but she’s been working at the local prison as a volunteer for her community service. She’s still under house arrest due to what she did, but she is a minor, so she’s trying to work hard and at least make up for what she did. Lord knows she’s trying.”

As they left the city, driving along a well-worn length of pavement, trees and meadows passing by, Deadwood watched the prison come into view, the minimum-security building not as imposing as the word ‘prison’ would suggest. However, its stark concrete walls and guard towers spoke of a different sort of intimidation. Deadwood sighed as he turned into the prison parking lot, turning off the sedan as soon as he was parked. Iron looked back at Cozy, sighing as she glanced at Deadwood.

“Are you sure you want to do this alone? It’s not like I can’t have a guard escort you-”

“I’ll be fine, Iron. This is… like home territory, in a way.” With a deep breath, Deadwood closed his eyes, leaning back and biting his lip. “But I will admit, I really don’t want to go in there. I’ve put a lot of people away over the years doing what I do, and those people don’t easily forgive. Keep a close eye on the kid – she almost got away from me at Canterlot High.”

Deadwood opened his door, taking a breath of the woodland air. It had been a unanimous decision to build the prison the distance they chose – clean air, no traffic to speak of down the old highway, and there was a lot more to learn in the woods than in the city. The yard held trees that the prisoners were required to care for, to understand how to care for something that was not themselves. For the majority, it worked, as they felt a deeper connection with the world than they previously ever considered, but for the incurable sociopaths that crossed ways with Deadwood, they would often carve chunks of bark off to denote the failings of what the prison was trying to instill in them.

Approaching the front gate, Deadwood flashed his agency badge, nodding at the gate guards. A few of them knew him personally, though he never asked their names, while most knew him by reputation. Taking slow, measured breaths, he entered the main lobby, where the Warden stood, his face even and neutral as he greeted Deadwood.

“It’s a good day, is it not, Detective? Come, sit down. We were just about to have lunch. I hear the new volunteer makes excellent mashed potatoes.” Nodding, Deadwood handed his coat off to a guard, letting him wave the scan-wand over him to deign if he was carrying weapons or any contraband of the sort. Taking a seat with the Warden, he clasped his hands together, looking around. A few glances from some of the inmates told him of the foul nature of his reputation among them – he had not pulled his punches in dealing with some of them, though he gave as good as he got. A phantom pain ached in his shoulder, causing him to instinctively rub it.

“I’m here to talk to someone.”

“Of course, of course. An inmate? Someone to press for information? I can’t let you do that without a police warrant, but as a private detective, I doubt you’d come across one of-”

“I need to talk to Gilda. It’s not an interrogation, I just… need some answers.” Nodding towards Deadwood, the Warden waved a guard closer, whispering into his ear. With a quick step, the guard marched over to where Gilda was preparing her portion of the lunch-time meal, and quietly spoke to her. Deadwood glanced over, leaning back to see what was happening. Gilda appeared to be trying to get the guard to leave, until her eye caught a glimpse of him. Her shoulders relaxed as she appeared to give in, being led by the guard over to Deadwood’s table.

“What do you want, Dweebwood?” The Warden narrowed his eyes at Gilda, motioning the guards away. Deadwood flexed his fingers before motioning to the other side of the table.

“It’s Deadwood, but I can understand you forgetting. This isn’t an interrogation, but I do need to ask you a few questions.”

“Fine, but it’s not like I know anything.”

“Good, then we’ll see just what you know.” Withdrawing a pen from his pocket, Deadwood tapped on the table, pulling a notepad from his pants pocket. “Have you been approached by the police yet about an incident that occurred maybe 5-ish weeks ago?”

Deadwood watched as Gilda sagged, leaning forward on the table. Her posture told him she knew, but she had not processed it yet. He watched as the headstrong girl let a couple tears fall, her face a mask of sorrow.

“Y-Yeah. Snips and Snails. I… I heard what happened.”

“I’m assuming you were here when the police came to tell you that two of your classmates had been murdered?”

“M-murdered?” Deadwood set his jaw, frowning deeply as he ran his finger over the coil binding of his notepad. He thought about actually opening it up, but none of what he was asking would have been admissible in any sort of court of law, and he was more trying to gauge her reaction rather than her words.

“Yeah. Police deemed it a double-homicide initially… until the Crystal Prep students showed up at the hospital in critical condition. Two students I’m aware competed in the Friendship Games last year against your school, two girls by the names of Sugarcoat and Lemon Zest. According to the reports, oddly enough, those girls were hanging out with Snips and Snails, two people they probably would not have if it had not been for the… weirdness surrounding that last event. I would ask, but anything related to so-called ‘magic’ is beyond my expertise.” Deadwood put his pen on the notepad, sliding it towards Gilda with his eyes narrowed.

“W-what do you want me to do?”

“Write down anything you might think could help. I want to figure out why two young boys were killed in cold blood, and why their secret friends ended up in such a bad state.” Gilda considered the notepad as Deadwood spoke, biting her lip before pushing it back towards him. Shaking her head, she shakily stood up, she glanced at the Warden, sighing when he nodded.

“Wish I could help. Really, I do. But I have to get back to work. Community service and all that.”

“Good luck, Gilda.”

“Good luck, Detective.” With a sneer and a deep breath, Gilda returned to the expression she wore before she had seen Deadwood, waving at some of the inmates who she seemed to have gained a rapport with. Smiling, Deadwood slowly stood, before the Warden grabbed his hand, staring intently at him before letting go.

“Detective, how did you come to the conclusion the boys were murdered?”

“The photographs. Blood pattern is all wrong for them killing each other.” With that last statement, Deadwood left the Warden in stunned silence, grabbing his coat from the guards before leaving. Glancing out at the parking lot, he watched Cozy bounce up and down on Iron’s lap, happily playing with her bear as she smiled. Rubbing the back of his head, he returned to the car, opening the door and sliding into his seat. Iron stopped playing with Cozy to fix her gaze onto Deadwood as he sighed, putting his forehead on the dashboard.

“I’m gonna guess it didn’t go well, did it?”|

“That would be an understatement. She didn’t know anything, and she almost broke down as I talked to her. Either she’s as broken up as she looks, or she’s the world’s most professional sociopath. Considering her age, I’d rather err on the side of her not knowing anything. All I can think of is either we go to the hospital or we go to Sugarcube Corner. I’m out of options if we can’t figure it out. I mean, Crystal Prep and Canterlot High have been bitter rivals since time eternal, at least, since I can remember. Now, the reports say that they are more cooperative to one another, though some grudges still stand!” Deadwood slammed his head against the top portion of his steering wheel, grunting every time he hit it. “I! Just! Don’t! Get! It! If my assistant was here, she’d probably tell me I was being silly, that I had overlooked a… clue. Do you have a list of the students from Crystal prep that were a part of the Crystal Prep Shadowbolts?” Deadwood gazed expectantly at Iron, waiting until she brought a list of students out from her notebook. Snatching it quickly from her, he tapped near the middle of the list, smiling as he started the sedan, buckling up as he threw it into reverse without warning.

“Whoa, Deadwood, what’s gotten into you!?”

“The missing clue! It’s right there, in front of me! How could I have missed it?! We’re going to Crystal Prep!”

The grandiose structure of Crystal Prep High stood as a stark contrast to the skyscrapers surrounding it, the students walking around at the end of the school day in their striking uniforms. Deadwood, however, looked completely out of place with a police officer beside him. As they had driven up to Crystal Prep. Deadwood had explained where his mind had gone – someone at Crystal Prep had to have been the one behind it, as the only ones who actually knew about what was going on between the Canterlot High students and their fellow Crystal Prep students were the members of the Shadowbolts. Social media had helped in confirming some of his suspicions, but the clues fit too perfectly.

“Still can’t believe that is who you set your sights on after all. I would have thought an angry father, or a vengeful uncle, not a student!”

“I was surprised by the conclusion I drew too, but we’re here right before he leaves, and we’ve got an idea as to how to deal with him. I don’t want to hurt him, but he probably thinks he’s in the clear, and he’s more likely to make a mistake...” Deadwood trailed off as he saw the young man in question arguing with people who had apparently been his friends before, but according to some of the people that Iron herself had talked to, he had started to act strange, more distant, erratic. It fit perfectly, but Deadwood needed him to slip up, to do something out of the ordinary compared to what the reports said.

Approaching the school, they stopped as the young man turned and caught Iron’s eye. The expression on his face was panic and fear, tell-tale signs of someone who had something to hide. Iron set her stance, ready to sprint in case he rabbited. He hesitated, moving his feet in different directions as he tried to figure out his own thoughts.

“Go ahead, run. You’ll be on the ground in no time.” As Iron whispered to herself, the student dropped his backpack, sprinting down the front steps of the school and around the corner. Without even a moment’s notice, Iron took off like a hunter after their marked prey. Deadwood sighed as he approached the steps, picking up the young man’s bag and shaking it before pulling out a plastic bag with bloody paper towels in it. Iron rounded the corner with the young man, keeping him steady as he struggled, snarling and swearing at her. Deadwood lifted the bag out of the backpack, dropping the bag on the ground before fishing a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. Slowly opening the bag, he withdrew a knife that had been hastily cleaned, frowning as he looked at the young man. His wavy black hair was a mess, his face scratched up and his glasses bent at a weird angle as Iron forced him to sit down.

“Jet Set. I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am in the fact you threw your school career and your scholarships away for, what, an old grudge?”

“I would not even wipe my boots with the mere assumption that that knife is mine-”

“Then why did you run? Why did you try to escape?” Jet Set sat down on the steps, burying his face in his hands as he looked to be trying to figure out how to get out of the situation he found himself in. Balling his hands up, he gripped the end of his knees, his expression telling Deadwood that they had him dead-to-rights.

“Those Canterlot rejects, they had no right to sully the talent of some of our school’s finest! They had no right to touch them. They may have been friends, but the way those boys looked at them, it was disgusting for someone of their… class to be associating with Sugarcoat and Lemon Zest! I-” Deadwood had listened for long enough, pulling his cellphone from his jacket pocket. As Iron stared Jet Set down, the latter swearing and cursing her as Deadwood walked away, returning to his car and where Cozy was waiting. She had fallen asleep in the backseat as they had returned to the city, and Deadwood checked on her before his call went through to Chief Irons.

“Yeah. Chief, it’s me, Deadwood- yeah, I know about the case you left me- no, I found the- Crystal Prep, one of the members of the Shadowbolts team from the Friendship Games. Jet Set, if you could believe. Cozy’s fine. She fell asleep as we were driving- yeah, I said we. Had some help from Officer Shield- I understand she’ll get a reprimand for this, but if it was not for her, I doubt I would have been able to solve this in as timely a fashion as I have. Twenty minutes? Sure, I can...” Deadwood trailed off as he watched two police cars screech to a halt in front of the school with their sirens blaring. “Make that twenty seconds, I guess.”

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he frowned and sighed, returning to Iron at the steps. Chief Irons was standing over the young man in question, glaring him down until he stopped speaking. Deadwood shook his head, clearing his throat until Irons turned his attention to him.

“Deadwood.”

“Chief.”

“Why do you always find the thread that we can’t? It’s like you can see the connections in everything.” Deadwood stopped as he took off his hat, sighing as he sat down on the steps, watching Iron Shield and several other officers take Jet Set to an awaiting car for transport to the station. With a deep breath, Deadwood tapped his pocket, pulling out an old pack of cigarettes, tapping and shaking two into his hand. Offering one to Irons, he lifted one to his mouth, drawing an old lighter from his other pocket. Sighing as he lit up his own, Deadwood looked up at the sky, biting his lip as he breathed in.

“Can’t explain it, Chief. It’s almost like… the connections are there, but it feels like I’m the only one who puts them together.” He held his lit cigarette in his hand, sighing as he turned it over and tapped the ash off the end. “I hate smoking, but it always ends up being in the spring that I get so overworked that even a single smoke is enough to relax me. As for Jet Set… I was only about seventy-five percent sure, and him running away basically solidified my certainty.”

Chief Irons chuckled as he smoked his own cigarette, elbowing Deadwood when Iron Shield returned to them, taking off her hat and running her hand through her short bob cut of dark hair. Deadwood, standing up and stamping out his cigarette, held out his hand, shaking hers when she reciprocated.

“Always a pleasure, Deadwood. Chief, you wanted to speak with me?” Deadwood turned away from the both of them as Irons began dressing down Iron Shield in front of every cop present, about abandoning her post because she found it ‘boring,’ and how she neglected her necessary duty. Returning to his car, he looked in the back, sighing as he saw Golden Glow on the other side of his car, holding Cozy. Smiling back at Deadwood, she gave a small wave before pointing into the back seat, where a small tray sat where Cozy had before.

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” Deadwood threw open the rear door of his vehicle, slowly lifting the top of the tray. “Caramel toffee cookies. Damn. Could have a heart attack from this.”

Deadwood filled me in about what happened when I was away. To think that the two people who kept being my friends would actually be… destroyed over something so minuscule as the perception that Jet Set held. I’ve heard of Jet Set in the pony world, but he’s not even a footnote compared to the human one.

Lemon Zest and Sugarcoat are still in pure shock about the day it happened. It’s been about a month since they were released from the hospital, but they bear the mental scars. The physical heals, but the mind can only handle so much. Rainbow Dash and them seem to be helping out enough in getting them through this rough patch – wish they would have shown that much compassion to me.

Indigo Zap, one of their friends, actually reached out to me to try and welcome me to Crystal Prep for the Spring-Summer semester! I’ve done all the catch-up work I can reasonably get done, but we’re dealing with a school filled with overachievers – I think I’ll fit in quite well after orientation.

Anyways, it’s getting late, and Deadwood still needs the last of these old files, well, filed.

Have a good night, Princess Twilight.

Sunset closed the journal, sighing as she looked over at Deadwood, passed out on his desk. After Sunset had returned, he had spent the better part of a day trying to justify his investigation style and how he figured out it was Jet Set, but it was clear to her that even he did not know – it was almost like it fell into place like a piece of a puzzle.

“Weirdness seems to follow you around, doesn’t it, Deadwood?”

“It’s not by choice, you know. Finish putting those files away, and we’ll...” Deadwood stared at a photo that had slid off his desk, landing neatly on the floor next to it. It was an old photo of him and then Inspector Irons, smiling in front of the old Sugarcube Corner building with the building in pieces. Picking it up and dusting it off, he chuckled, showing it to Sunset.

“Old case?”

“First one, actually. Serial arsonist. Ten years ago. First time I ever worked with the police. I’ll tell you the story someday, if the mood strikes me-” Deadwood glanced up as he heard the bell on his door ring, glancing towards the front door. Chief Irons stood there, wearing casual clothes with Iron Shield standing beside him in a tidy shirt-and-jeans combo. With a chuckle, the Chief snatched the photo from Deadwood’s hand, dragging over several chairs.

“You know, if he won’t tell you the story, I will.

Ten years ago, when I was just a lowly Inspector...”

Author's Note

I'm sitting here, trying to figure out how I want to end this up, and I keep going back, watching clips from Criminal Minds, NCIS, and Murdoch Mysteries. I keep coming to the same conclusion, too:

If the bad guy had been someone that was obvious, it wouldn't make a very good Case File, would it?

Unfortunately, even with small amounts of inference, I don't know if people would get where I was trying to point. I'm still learning how to write detective stories, and it's not the easiest thing in the world.

However, I'm happy that I at least am continuing this.

Remember, you can send any Case File ideas to me - writing full-on detective stories isn't something that is easy, and it's hard to build on it when you really want to make it more of an anthology.

Thanks for reading, I appreciate every one of you.

Case File 4 - A Burning Question

“Inspector Irons, what do you have to bring to the table?”

Four individuals sat around a long table, the legs rusted and the surface chipped from age. The room stank of old coffee and cigarettes, with a small tinge of overcooked french fries emanating from somewhere. The light overhead hummed with the same annoying buzz that almost invariably followed fluorescent bulbs, flies lazily dancing around until they inevitably burned against the hot sheath of the lights. A large man, arms bulging, stared around at the others, his gaze intense and his face set as he regarded the others in the room.

“Sir, I understand that Irons called us all here, but we are still in the middle of an investigation! We-”

“Constable Deadwood, you need to calm down. Why not go out to that coffee shop you seem to adore and get us some late-night coffee and donuts? What was it called... not Donut Joe’s, he’s across town in the Upper District.”

“Big Joe’s Snack Shack, sir.”

Irons nodded, narrowing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose, turning his attention to the array of papers on the table. Several locations had been noted across a heavily creased map, the age and use evident on the worn edges. The other officers present sighed and put their heads on the table, trying not to groan at the long hours they had already spent attempting to ascertain the movements of one of their most elusive suspects. Across several clippings from local newsprint were many headlines, all pertaining to a serial arsonist they had yet to trace. Something had been nagging at him for a while, though – each target was a potentially valuable piece of property, and after the businesses that occupied the land were burned to the ground, it seemed one development company kept showing up and buying the low-value deeds right out from under their owners for less than the actual value. His mind kept nagging him, telling him some sort of connection was there, but he could not simply walk up and accuse someone of high societal standing of serial arson, or accessory to such an act.

“Donut Joe’s burnt to the ground out in West District. That was a week ago.”

“Big Joe’s has had someone attempt to light it, but every time, it seems that it ignites, and then fizzles out like a small firecracker in water.”

Irons was about to remind them that speculation was not something they should act on when Deadwood returned, a hefty container of coffee with fresh cups in one hand, and three stacked boxes of doughnuts in the other. Setting the items down, he took his seat, pulling out a heavily-covered doughnut and taking a small bite. Glancing over at the papers, Deadwood narrowed his eyes, lifting a brow before returning to his doughnut and pouring himself a piping hot and fresh cup of good coffee.

“Wait, you were a Constable under Commissioner Irons, Deadwood?”

Sunset Shimmer interrupted the story as Deadwood poured a big mug of coffee from his own machine, stopping when he realized that Sunset was indeed talking to him. Taking a quick sniff and sip, he took a seat, chuckling as he leaned back, smiling and laughing. Irons shook his head and sighed, returning the smile as he himself moved to grab a mug to partake in the freshly made coffee.

“Ten years ago, Sunset. I was a very different person. Actually, Irons is the reason I have my agency at all.”

“And don’t you forget it. Though... you’ve saved our backsides a few times, Detective.”

“Yeah. Anyways, go ahead and continue.”

Irons cleared his throat, taking a sip of the coffee before continuing. He smiled, glancing up as if he was looking through the ceiling to older, more pleasant times before his expression fell, his eyes turning dark as he stared at the floor.

“Donut Joe’s shop had been the most recent to get hit. We still had no motive...”

Irons, breathing heavily, tossed papers aside, slamming a fist into the wall. They had been staring at paperwork for more than half of the day, slaving away on records that inevitably held no more information than a street-based survey. Deadwood had attempted to speak up several times, every time being shut down by everyone at the table, Irons included. Whatever his idea was, they were not willing to hear it, and the final time he had suggested something, he had become so frustrated that he left the room in a huff, trying to control himself.

“Was it a good idea, Constable Berry?”

“We all shushed him, Inspector. Deadwood’s got a track record, but his ideas are beyond weird. What would interviewing the homeless accomplish, besides them mistrusting us even more than normal?”

“Wait, interviewing the-” Before the officer had a chance to complete their sentence, Deadwood walked in, a notebook in one hand, and two homeless individuals in tow.

Slamming the notebook onto the table, he slid it over to Irons, moving over to the coffee and treats and motioning for the homeless to take what they wanted. Bright smiles appearing across their faces, they nodded, moving in for the warm refreshments and baked goods, much to the chagrin of the other officers present. Irons, sensing that there was no arguing with Deadwood when he was just doing what was part of his immediate job anyways, opened the notebook, his eyes going wide with the information contained within. The two homeless people, Indigo Ray and Starsong Magenta, were long-time dwellers of the streets, and they were always on the lookout. From the notes in the book, Irons began to realize the extent to what Deadwood was referring to when it came to interviewing those who may have seen more than people gave them credit for. Tapping a specific page, he motioned Deadwood over, underlining the notes with his finger.

“’Suspect seen driving away in what appeared to be a Coltswagen convertible, tricked out with aftermarket parts and under-body lighting?’ Was that all from them?”

Deadwood did not speak, preferring to keep his mouth shut and stare down at the page. Irons pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow as he kept his eyes on Deadwood’s expression. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the sweat drops begin to bead on his subordinates brow, his breath quickening as he shifted slightly next to himself, sitting down and biting his lip.

“Constable? Care to explain?”

“S-Sir... it’s, well, they were in the alleys near some of the arson sites. They put out a message for me... about a week ago, trying to get some information. Those sites had people who routinely worked at the shelters, and this arsonist affects them as well. Sir.”

Irons leaned back, smirking as it dawned on Deadwood that he was not actually in trouble, despite the tone that Irons had used initially. Breathing deeply, the Inspector began to flip once more through the notebook, slowly pondering each note as he kept silent, though his eyes belied how he felt. Each note made more and more sense, but it left him feeling a lot more uncomfortable with some of the suggestions that they pointed towards, with some of the threads in his mind leading to some very unfortunate conclusions. Deadwood sipped a cup of coffee, staring down at the map in the middle of the table.

“Sir, you’re starting to get that resting... what did you call it, Bulwark?”

“Resting Murder Face.”

“Yeah, that one.”

Irons snorted, glancing up at the others and shaking his head. Deadwood was normally a lot more upbeat, more casual with others, but since he had been assigned to the case like the rest of them, he had become withdrawn, less talkative. Irons was not a man to assume anything normally, but Deadwood certainly had an analytical mind about him that just understood some connections that others did not. The pins in the map were where the constable’s eyes were fixed, and something must have clicked, because the inspector just witnessed in silence as Deadwood withdrew a ruler and marker from his pocket, drawing lines between each arson scene from the very first one to the most recent. As he watched him drew, something clicked – Deadwood was pointing out a connection none of the others had seen, and something about it was troubling.

“Deadwood-”

“It doesn’t make sense. At least, from a regular point of view. But considering the nearest properties to them-”

“’Rich Enterprises, Limited.’ That’s who owns the skyscraper near...”

Deadwood nodded, placing his finger stiffly on Donut Joe’s former location. The man owned a franchise of shops, but that one was where the very first had opened, and was a painful stab in the man’s pride. Almost as if struck by lightning, he stood straight up, narrowing his eyes. He glanced over at Irons, looking down at the map as he did and retrieving his notebook from where it sat. As he coloured in various points, each corresponding to the strange black Coltswagen that had apparently been seen driving away from every single arson site. Notes like time of day, weather conditions, each point of data pushed more and more certainty into the mind of Irons as he watched like a student would watch a teacher. Something about the way Deadwood moved gave him pause, as if Deadwood was in an entirely different world, mentally speaking.

“Inspector, sir, who was it who was buying up the burned-out lots for redevelopment?”

“Says here... Rich Enterprises. But we can’t just rush in and accuse him. We need hard evidence if he indeed is involved in this.”

“Then I have an idea, sir. Big Joe’s had a few people try and burn his place down, but considering the fire chief helped him build the place back when it first opened, it’s pretty much fireproof. Won’t stop them using flammables to try and keep it going to burn past that.”

Irons held his chin with his hand, considering the nature of the information Deadwood had shared. Bulwark and his compatriot across the table were engaged in a hushed conversation about double-stack chocolate doughnuts and which coffee shop had the best taste in the city, and decidedly were not paying attention to anything that was happening. It was wrong of them to ignore what Deadwood was bringing to the table, but those two were not the investigative type. Irons knew what they were good at, and it was not tracking down information; they were more good for cordons and checkpoints. Glancing back up, he realized Deadwood had already left, leaving himself and the two oblivious officers to their lonesome. Grabbing his jacket, he slid his arms in, zipping it up as he placed the ill-fitting police cap on his head, his predecessor having a decidedly smaller head compared to his.

“Bulwark, Verda, hold down the fort. I gotta go find Deadwood.”

“Will do sir. Now, about Donut Joe’s dark roast...”

With that statement, he was off, shrugging his shoulders as he felt a cold, wet breeze almost cut through him. Central District was much less inviting in the rain compared to the Upper District, but at least more of the streetlights worked better. Powerful new lamps illuminated as the dark began to set in, pushing home just how long they had been poring over the files and maps. Deadwood was standing at the corner, conversing with another citizen of the city as he tipped his hat, glancing up at Irons as the inspector walked towards him.

“Bulwark and Verda being ignorant as always, sir?”

“You could say that. So, Big Joe’s Snack Shack,” Irons mused, looking around. There was not a lot of places to hide that were not in view of a traffic or security camera, but the lowering light did give way to a foreboding of sorts, like the walls themselves could just simply swallow someone whole if they so chose. Deadwood motioned to him, pointing up the street, pushing his attention to the establishment in question.

Indeed, two blocks up, there sat Big Joe’s Snack Shack, just as brown as the day it opened. Deadwood had told him before that every year, Big Joe shut down the shop so he could reseal the outside, keep that classic wood experience from wearing out in the sun, and even enlisting some of the local youth who otherwise would have probably tagged it to be ‘in’ with some local group of misfits. The man was a legend for how much community service hours he saved the police, and it was not about to go to waste, either.

Irons was about to speak up when a vehicle sped past them, a shiny black Coltswagen with blue under-lighting. It visually matched the description, and it was currently moving at far higher than posted street limits towards Big Joe’s Snack Shack.

“Dammit! That’s the car! Sir, I’m going-”

“Don’t talk, just do it, Deadwood!”

“Yes sir!”

Without another word, Deadwood took off sprinting, Irons barely able to keep pace with the younger man’s speed. He had read reports on the terrifying physical nature of Deadwood’s physicals, but he had always dismissed them as just rumours and superstition. Seeing it in action, however, was far more than he expected. Deadwood was not just a constable, he was a long-distance runner, and it showed.

As they reached where the black car had slowed to a stop, the driver’s door opened to reveal a young man. The young man promptly lit a cigarette, coughing as he reached back inside his car. However, before he withdrew whatever he was going to, Irons stared with his eyes wide as Deadwood slammed into him with all the force of a professional linebacker. A bottle with a rag inside tumbled through the air, smashing a short distance from the officer and the suspect. As Irons slowed to a stop, he stole a glance inside the car itself, and found reason to take pause.

“Sir, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. If you do not have a lawyer, one can be provided for you-”

“Deadwood, cuff him, and then take a look in here.”

“Sir?”

Deadwood leaned over, quickly looking inside before covering his mouth with a free hand. Entire crates of bottles with rags in their necks were stacked inside the rear seat, a plumbing torch ready to go and an unfolded map with marks written on it lain on the passenger seat in the front. It was all the calling cards he could have known from a serial arsonist, but something nagged on him. In his mind, it was too clean, too easy, like someone was wanting them to find the perpetrator and put him behind bars, like a scapegoat.

“Son, what’s your name?”

“L-Layne, officer. Fuller Layne.”

“Look, level with me. Were you-”

Deadwood stopped speaking when Layne began sobbing heavily. Taking a look down at the young man’s hands, he noticed they were not scorched or scarred – the homeless he had spoken to had stated that the individual who was attempting to burn down establishments next to locations owned by Filthy Rich had bandages over scarred hands. Layne did not fit the description, and it was starting to bother him as he glanced over at the map, almost dropping the key for the cuffs when he saw the last mark on the map, one where he knew the owners personally.

“A-Am I going to jail?”

“No, son. In fact, why not give us a ride? You seem like you know your way around the city. Take us to that location there on your map.”

As the car slowed to a stop, Deadwood opened the door on the passenger side, his eyes going wide as he saw police cars already on station, the location in question just embers in a formerly popular establishment. He approached the owners standing on the sidewalk, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder while removing his cap. Irons just stared as he left the car as well, Layne closely behind as he was not willing to get himself into any further trouble compared to what trouble he believed himself to be in. With a sigh, Deadwood put his cap back on, securing it as he shook his head, turning to speak before he was interrupted by an incredibly wealthy-looking individual stepping out of a limousine that had just arrived. The man in question tugged on his large blazer, the grey shaking dust off of it as if the dust was a wanton invader. The dollar-bill-styled clip on his tie belied who he was, and his appearance gave off an incredibly arrogant viewpoint, that he knew he was better than anyone present.

“I do say I did warn you that the police weren’t able to protect you as Rich Enterprises Insurance could have. I am here to speak with the Cakes about their land claim, as the company that was in charge of their land lease recently went bankrupt, and I was able to purchase the debt of that company for total owner-”

“Mr. Filthy Rich. You are disobeying a police cordon. You are to leave immediately, or you will be fined and possibly charged with obstruction of justice.”

“Ah, very well. I can see when I am not welcome. Mr and Mrs Cake, I do hope you see reason. Goodbye for now,” Filthy Rich ended on, returning to his limousine and speeding away. Deadwood released a breath he had not realized he was holding, relaxing the fist he had been making in an unconscious desire to punch Filthy Rich in the face.

“So, Filthy Rich sounded very shady,” Sunset stated, having pulled up chairs for everyone present. Irons was sighing, bouncing Cozy up and down on his knee while Deadwood finished a quick phone call over to Big Joe’s, having ordered a decent amount of pastry to be delivered soon. As they all waited for Irons’ response, the front door rang, a not-as-young man entering in and stopping as his eyes went wide, his gaze wandering over Irons and Deadwood.

“Of all the places I am asked to deliver, I just had to walk into your Agency, didn’t I?”

“You know, I forgot you ran one of the delivery services, Layne. It’s good to see you. How’s your mother?”

“She’s fine, Mr Deadwood. She asked me to bring you over for dinner at some point, to meet the man that ‘changed her son’s life.’” Deadwood could only smile as Layne placed the boxes of pastries onto his desk, seeing the young man from ten years before still moving with purpose and knowledge. Glancing out at the street, he smirked when he saw the rundown delivery truck Layne drove, the freshly-repainted sign simply stating ‘Delivery Laynes.’ A terrible pun, to be certain, but he could grasp that it was a name that stuck into people’s heads.

“You know, Layne, we’re talking about the old arson case.”

“That takes me back. Irons telling the story this time, or should I pipe in and explain?”

“I am the one telling the account, Layne. Now, Deadwood was furious at Filthy Rich...”

“I cannot believe the sheer cheek of that bastard, sir. Walks in here like he already owns the place-”

“He does own the place, but we can’t really say much about it-” Irons stopped as Deadwood retrieved a cellular phone from his pocket, flipping it open and listening to the caller. He watched as the constable almost dropped the device, catching himself before breathing slowly and purposefully. Without another word, he grabbed Layne by the shoulder, dragging him back to the young man’s vehicle and stepping in himself. Waving Irons over, his eyes began to narrow as his expression darkened.

“Deadwood, what-”

“Filthy Rich is over at Big Joe’s, making a big uproar about how the deed actually belongs to him, and that Big Joe even being there is a miracle-”

“That. Bastard.”

Deadwood’s and Irons’ eyes went absolutely wide with surprise as Layne swore under his breath, kicking the car into gear as they tore off down the street, rubber marks depicting their departure. Glancing down at his cellphone, Deadwood narrowed his eyes once more, responding as quickly as he could to Big Joe, his expression growing grim and taut the longer the conversation continued. Without another word, Irons put his hand on the constable’s shoulder, shaking his head.

“Constable, you can’t be getting so angry-”

“Filthy is threatening him. He has a lawyer with him, and the name is one I recognize. One of those lawyers you call when you know you’re in the wrong, but he’s good enough to help you win the case regardless of the supposed ‘impartiality’ of justice.”

Layne bit his own lip, staring at the road as he took corner after corner, sliding through the turns like a bat out of hell. Deadwood was dead-eyed in his stare as he saw the limousine in the distance, his grim, taut lips curling into a deepening frown, the feeling mutual between all individuals in the car. Whatever was happening, Irons knew that Deadwood and Layne had personal stakes in it, even though he had just met the younger man that day. The two in the front had very similar personalities, as if they were brothers or cousins, and while it did bring a momentary smile to Iron’s face, the job ahead was far more dire than he could give it credit for.

Parking in a spot Deadwood had identified as the best location for them to approach from, Layne shook his head at Irons and Deadwood, leaving the two police officers to approach quietly. Raised voices could be heard as they leaned against opposite sides of the front door, a perfect position for the lack of visible windows to alert their targets of their presence.

“I told you, Joe – my company already owns the rights to this here piece of land-”

“The day you actually get your forms properly notarized will be the day I die, Rich. Any bastard with a brain could see that this contract is corrupt and improper, and not even properly checked out by the Land Board.”

Slowly pushing the door open, Deadwood stole inside, Irons behind him as they crouched, ready for anything to occur as Big Joe stood behind his counter. Deadwood knew that Joe kept a loaded shotgun below the counter, on account of a few times that local thugs had decided it was a fantastic idea to attempt to rob a man who was once a strongman in a carnival, wrestling bears for fun. Filthy Rich seemed to not understand or know the rationale behind the deportment Big Joe carried, but he did not seem to care, flanked by a lawyer and several bodyguards. Standing up quickly, Deadwood held out his badge, narrowing his eyes.

“Manehattan Police! Keep your hands where we can see them!”

Almost with a start, the bodyguards drew their pistols, only stopping when they realized the boomstick that had suddenly materialized in Big Joe’s hands was aimed directly for them. Holstering their firearms, Deadwood glanced over to Irons, the inspector having his own weapon trained on the bodyguards. Shaking his head, the constable slowly walked towards the bodyguards, checking each individual carry permit to make certain their paperwork was in date and correct. Irons witnessed two disarming and handing their weapons to Deadwood, who snapped a glove on before placing the firearms on the counter in front of Big Joe. Rolling the glove off and tossing the disposable latex covering into the garbage, he glanced over at Filthy Rich and the lawyer, the former who seemed to be increasingly infuriated at Deadwood and Irons.

“You just can’t leave well enough alone! These papers-”

Deadwood snatched the contract and paperwork from Filthy Rich, narrowing his eyes as he meticulously read through each piece of paper, having already donned a new pair of latex gloves. Each piece looked the part, but major inconsistencies existed that he was already cross-referencing with what he knew about the city. Sighing, he placed the paperwork on a part of the counter in front of Irons, shaking his head at Filthy Rich.

“Mr Rich, you are in violation of multiple ordinances within the city, especially the fraudulent nature of the paperwork you have just attempted to use to coerce Joe here into a deal that was not in any fashion legal. Civil Code and Penal Code clearly state that attempting to file forged or fraudulent land claims is punishable by a minimum of over one hundred thousand dollars in fines, and up to and including ten years in prison.”

“So, Filthy Rich got what he deserved?” Deadwood, Irons and Layne glanced at each other, unsure of how to answer Sunset’s question. Deadwood, returning to the chair behind his desk, simply shook his head, glancing out the window and staring at the traffic going by while Irons and Layne began putting chairs back, keeping eerily quiet as they helped clean up the Agency and give Deadwood a quick pat on the shoulder.

“Unfortunately, when it comes to wealth, there is a lot that you can get away with. Filthy Rich did lose a company license to purchase and retain future deeds to parcels of land, but he had bail already posted and ready to go once the proceedings went through,” Deadwood explained, his tone filled with notes of sorrow. “I lost my badge since the Commissioner at the time was a close friend of Rich’s. When that bombshell came out, he was forced into early retirement, and Irons here was the clear choice to be promoted. He helped me get back on my feet after Rich decided he wanted to try and force the bank I have my account with to freeze my assets.”

“’No good deed goes unpunished,’ does it?”

“Justice is grand, but you always have to remember that you will always have people who believe that just because they have wealth, they can do whatever they want and the rank-and-file citizens just have to follow along. The Cakes took that photo after they planned to rebuild, thanking us for getting Rich off their backs.”

Commissioner Irons and Detective Deadwood. They’re quite a pair, one being level-headed but restricted by the red tape of bureaucracy, and the other beholden to the law, but able to move in a manner that would benefit the police far more than he realized. I know that Deadwood is extremely rough around the edges, but he has a heart of gold, and I think he cares a lot more about everyone in this neighbourhood than I could possibly understand. Just being here, I feel like part of a family I never knew.

Rainbow Dash and the others have been sending me messages through Deadwood’s answering machine, and while it’s been a long while now since the Anon-a-Miss incident, I don’t feel like I’m ready to fully forgive them, and I doubt I would ever be able to call them friends ever again, but it’s time I started to just focus on the future. Hanging onto the past just seems to get a lot of people in trouble around here, like with the weirdo Blank Bliss. You ever come back through to this side, I’ll... tell you all about him.

Rarity was sent a set of measurements from yours truly, all the size of a small child. I thought Minty deserved something good, and despite everything that has happened, Rarity at least came through. It did take some convincing on Deadwood’s part to actually get her to, well, do it, but once she was reassured that the request was genuine, she took to it with enthusiasm.

Anyways, that’s all for now. Talk to you again later, Twilight.

“You always seem to be writing in that book. Some kind of journal?”

Sunset glanced up to Deadwood wearing an apron and hauling boxed around, cleaning up for the weekly support group meetings. He had suggested she join one to see how Rainbow Dash was holding up, and to bring her own guitar to try and build a new bridge, even if the old ones were burned to a crisp. As he had stated, Commissioner Irons was allowing them to meet specifically because it was Deadwood running the group, and Rainbow Dash was already attempting to make amends for the horrible treatment that had happened. Before she could say anything about her book, the front door jingled as a familiar, rainbow-haired teenager waltzed in, her eyes going wide before attempting to turn around and leave at the sight of Sunset.

“Rainbow Dash, it’s fine. I already spoke with Commissioner Irons, and he’s fine with it as long as I am supervising. That and...” Deadwood trailed off as Sunset’s eyes began to water, her tears flowing as she rushed Rainbow Dash and drew her up in a hug. Startled, Rainbow had no idea how to react until Deadwood smiled, sipping from a coffee cup before pulling out his own guitar, chuckling as he motioned over to his amp, laughing as Sunset hesitantly unpacked her own guitar, slowly touching the neck.

As the other members of the support group began to filter in, Rainbow Dash and Sunset got to talking again, chatting about anything that was outside high school or anyone else in the former group of friends. It brought a smile to his face and a warmth to his heart to be able to at least help them reconnect in a better way – Rainbow Dash had been almost in tears the last time she asked, desperately wanting to at least be friends again with Sunset. The main room was slowly set up as the others brought out instruments, tuning guitars and preparing woodwind instruments, and plugging amplifiers into the outlets they could find. It was a group that he knew was free from judgment, and he knew that so many events that had happened made everything worth the sights he always saw.

“Mr Deadwood?” Deadwood looked over at Rainbow Dash, smirking as she held up a disk, tilting her head in a questioning manner as she motioned that she wanted to hear that today. Nodding, he stood to the side as she placed the CD inside the stereo, chuckling as Deadwood realized what song she was putting on. It had become a favourite of hers, and Deadwood solemnly acknowledged why as it began to play, ramping up as the sound system kicked in.

“My heart’s a stereo, it beats for you so listen close...”

Author's Note

I'm finally excited to be back and writing. Sorry it took so long. I wanted to write this chapter for a long time, and since my writer's block is mostly gone, it means that I can write... for the most part. Still takes a good kick mentally to get the old creative engine going.

I hope you all continue to join the ride with me as we go deeper into the world of Deadwood's Detective Agency!

Case File 5 – Smile For Me

Deadwood sat at his desk, reading through the local newspaper, poring through the various classified advertisements to ascertain if one of them, if any at all, were worth anything, and circling each one before he wrote down the phone numbers on a notepad nearby. Before he could circle another one, he was startled by the front door slamming open, the bell flying up in the air before it fell down into Sunset’s outstretched hand. After she retrieved the door where it had locked open, she gingerly put the bell back into its receptacle on the rear, sighing loudly and angrily as she took a seat at the desk and tossed her school bag on top, her Crystal Prep uniform faltering as it rumpled on the seat. Deadwood was loathe to assume, of course, that she was annoyed, but her bearing and attitude belied the feelings to him.

“Another long day?”

“Long day? Doesn’t even begin to describe it. There’s supposed to be the... Friendship Games soon, and I’m not allowed to participate because of the restraining order, as that will create an unfair dynamic. I was really looking forward to it, too. Dash said she was going to show off as much as she could, but I-” Sunset quieted down when Deadwood motioned behind him to the support group’s main room, where Rainbow Dash sat silently, holding a book and rocking back and forth. He shook his head, staring down at the newspaper quietly and returning to the classifieds. Sunset raised a hand to ask a question, but thought better of it, instead remarking to herself that a lot had changed since Canterlot High, but seeing Rainbow Dash so deeply bothered gave her a sense of desire to comfort, though she would have never admitted as much.

“She’s been in here for two hours already. That book is a journal her therapist told her to write in, and she won’t tell me what’s wrong. She’s been listening to some old music I had lying around, but-”

“What happened?”

Deadwood sighed, standing up and leaning on his desk. Before Sunset could say anything, he slid his jacket on, entering the support room and tapping Rainbow on the shoulder, eliciting her attention as she took her headphones off.

“W-What’s going on, Deadwood?”

“I’m going to Big Joe’s. I’m going to get some coffee, maybe a doughnut. You want to come with?”

“Y-Yeah. That sounds... good.”

Big Joe’s was quiet in the afternoon, his normal patrons around either early in the morning, or late into the afternoon. It suited the trio that passed through his doorway just fine, as Rainbow sat down and stared at the sugar and coffee whitener pots in the center of the table she found herself at. Sunset, puzzled, took a seat as well, attempting to ask a question before a blur of teal-green hair and rambunctious energy gripped her leg, hugging her tightly. Standing up to go play with Minty, she left Deadwood and Rainbow to their quiet table, the silence almost oppressive and punishing.

“What’s going on, Rainbow Dash?”

“The girls... they said the Rainbooms weren’t a good idea anymore, that we’re better off apart from each other. I tried to tell them how bad of an idea that was, and Rarity just screamed at everyone. Even Applejack was angry, and I had no idea why. It wasn’t my fault, was it?”

“Joe? Two large cups, one mocha, one double-chocolate, hot.”

Rainbow looked up, glancing at Deadwood’s eyes for the first time that day. The sheer amount of understanding that she felt from just meeting his gaze was enough to let her relax, her shoulders drooping as she pushed the journal towards Deadwood, trying to appear tough even when the tears were streaming down her face. The band meant a lot to her, and he was certain that someone else was behind the band breaking up. Something seemed off, and her notes in her journal read more like a research paper and observation report than a journal entry. New students had come around, and the girls had found themselves drifting further and further apart, despite any intentions by the others. It seemed like whoever these new students were, they were potentially behind the strange behaviour of the girls.

“So...”

“I’m trying to figure this out, Rainbow. Didn’t you guys have a weird Battle of the Bands that was sort of taken over by strange girls with voices that only really controlled teenagers for some odd reason? It feels like a repeat of what happened with-”

“Don’t. Don’t mention that person’s name. The girls all knew how badly we screwed up then, and how badly we can screw up if that happens again. But if he’s free-”

Deadwood held up a hand, shaking his head as he watched Joe walk up with their mugs, chuckling as he took a sip out of his cup and narrowing his eyes as Rainbow regarded her own mug. She was barely there, her thoughts elsewhere, from what he could see, and she was far less inclined to partake of the gift of hot chocolate, sweet and delicious though it was. He stood up, glancing outside towards a car that he knew well, and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Before he had a chance to react, Filthy Rich slammed open the Snack Shack’s main entrance, breathing heavily with anger and frustration.

“Deadwood!”

“Filthy Rich. What an unpleasant surprise.”

“Don’t patronize me. You have to be behind what’s going on with my daughter. Where is Diamond Tiara, Deadwood?!”

Deadwood stopped, putting his mug back down on the table. Sunset re-entered the main dining area to see the expression of thought disappear from Deadwood’s face as he became focused, Filthy Rich explaining the events that had happened, including Diamond Tiara’s extremely cold behaviour to both him and his wife, as well as her less-than-stellar track record in the last few days. A notepad was in the detective’s hands as he took notes, nodding every so often as he recorded the information. Filthy Rich had dropped from anger to sorrow, wondering where he had failed as a father that she was ignoring any mention of his existence.

“Rainbow, does this sound vaguely similar to what’s been happening with your circle of friends as of late?”

“Y-Yeah. Insisting that their time is better spent with people they barely know, repeating the same phrases in different patterns just like he made me do.”

“I was afraid of this,” he stated plainly, placing his notebook back into its pocket inside his jacket, nodding to Sunset and Rainbow before he took a step towards the door. “Sounds like someone is back who wants revenge, and that’s a dish that no one wants served. Rich, you’ve got your car out there. Mind if we take a ride over to Crystal Prep? I need to confirm a suspicion of mine.”

Filthy Rich could only nod as Deadwood motioned to Rainbow and Sunset, the two teens following him out of the cafe as they walked to Rich’s car, the bodyguard stationed near the door confused until his employer shook his head, giving him a signal to open the door. As the four of them took their seats, Deadwood withdrew his notebook once more, tapping on the new page he had just turned to with his pen as he looked at everyone present. Sighing, he looked out the window, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. From all reports he had heard, Diamond Tiara was more like her mother than anyone else had expected, rude and angry to the core as she threatened, blackmailed and generally ruined a lot of people as she made her way through school. Just like the fraudulent attempts ten years previous, it seemed that her father had imparted the ways he did business to her quite assuredly. Something was not adding up, and he was hoping that at least something at Crystal Prep was able to give some insight – he was off his game, and he needed something to get his mind going. Not even using his notebook as his muse was working, as the case did not make sense. Something was not in line with the usual facts, like a thread he could not pull if he wanted to get to the bottom of it all.

“How are your daughter’s grades, by the way?”

“She gets top marks from her teachers. They tell me she’s disruptive, but her mother and I have been a little busy. I’ve been looking at some new property outside city limits, a little place called Camp Everfree. Good location for a grand resort, especially with the amazingly clear lake nearby.”

“Hmm.”

Deadwood stepped out of the limousine, flanked by Rainbow and Sunset, the former still in her Crystal Prep uniform, while Rainbow was clad in her sports attire. Filthy Rich followed suit, nodding to one of his bodyguards that flanked him, the bald man following closely behind as they entered. Despite knowing that on the ride over it had been insisted for extra security, Deadwood could not help feel as if the bodyguard was there to keep things quiet, and shut down any suspicions if they should arise that something was less than ideal.

Too late in that regard, Rich.

Pushing and holding open the front doors of the school, Deadwood ushered everyone else in, glancing around in case someone was gazing with prying eyes. Placing his notebook back in his pocket, he withdrew a small digital camera, holding it in his left while he made sure the front doors shut quietly with his right. Canterlot High made his skin crawl when it was quiet and after hours, but Crystal Prep felt oppressive, and it was not even late afternoon either. Something about sterile halls, organized boards that were all even and perfectly spaced, and not a speck of dust anywhere made him feel far more out of place than any regular high school could possibly made him feel. A quick, cursory check revealed almost nothing, though their first stop at Diamond Tiara’s locker was partially open. Snapping a quick picture, Deadwood slipped on a pair of nitrile gloves, making certain to not disturb any potential marks for the police as he felt along the edge of the locker’s door. Telltale cracks in the paint and a small pile of paint chips on the floor confirmed that it had been forced, and the specific bending of the metal suggested some kind of flat pry bar – a crowbar would have left a far more rounded impression in the weak metal.

Before Deadwood had a chance to voice his concerns, rapid footsteps somewhere in the distance caught his attention. Without even a single second of hesitation, he withdrew a flashlight from one of his many pockets, shining it down the hallway. Something about the area where the noise came from sent a shiver down his spine, like a glimmer of momentary recognition before immediate forgetfulness. He could have sworn he saw a young woman sprinting around, but it made zero sense as to why someone like that would be at Crystal Prep without being a member of the faculty or a student. Nodding to the bodyguard, Deadwood reached inside his jacket, sliding out his Coltfield revolver and checking the ammunition. Rainbow stared wide-eyed at Deadwood while Sunset covered her face.

“You were just carrying that on you, and you didn’t care to mention it?”

“After the last incident like this, I prefer to come prepared.”

Taking an efficient stance where neither the flashlight nor revolver were interfering with each other, he stepped slowly, taking care to sidestep anything that potentially could make noise. Behind him, Sunset sighed, pulling out two pen-lights from her uniform pockets. Handing one to Rainbow, they clicked them on simultaneously, sweeping from one side to the other as they followed Deadwood’s pace. The footsteps echoed again, Rainbow turning around to see Filthy Rich being escorted out of the building by his bodyguard, who nodded as he frowned at the trio moving off.

“Are you good with that pistol?”

“It’s my old service revolver, so I should be. Keep your corners covered. I need to know the moment you see something.”

As they crept closer to where the footsteps had been coming from, the light around them appeared to dim, as if the shadows themselves were suffocating the rays. Deadwood tightened his lips, about to motion to the others as he frowned, his eyes immediately growing cross-eyed as a dull thud echoed down the hallway. Rainbow turned to Sunset, about to warn her before something slammed over their heads, the last thing they could hear was something that sounded... off, like a distorted walkie-talkie, all too late, unfortunately, as they slipped into the embrace of the darkness of unconsciousness...

ACTION NOT ADVISED

“I know the action is not advised, I just gave you primitive crystalline components, work with me here!”

Deadwood awoke to the muffled cursing of a woman in a strange uniform, his vision mildly blurred until it clicked in his head – he was floating, in some sort of tube. He tried to move, almost on instinct to draw a sidearm, but found his arms restrained above him, and his legs chained to the bottom. He was encased in some sort of strange jumpsuit, and as he glanced to his sides, his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the room, and his gaze fell upon two other similar tubes, Rainbow and Sunset motionless and floating in them as well. His muscles felt like the heaviest material on the planet as he attempted to flex, his wrists pushing hard against the admittedly strong handcuffs that held them in place. With a grimace and a sharp intake of breath, he stopped, almost coughing up a lung as it dawned on him that while his focus had been on escape, he had wires and instruments all across his torso, and some sort of tube down his throat.

“Wait, wait, he’s waking up! Yes, in your face, Tayvin!”

Before his brain could process the name he heard from the woman, the tube suddenly drained, the cuffs holding him in place beeping and unlocking fast enough to let him drop and land on his feet. The other two tubes in the room, quickly emptying, still held the motionless forms of Rainbow and Sunset, though something seemed... off. Flexing his hands, he realized he felt a lot weaker than he would have normally.

“Wa... woo... kah?”

“Look, don’t try to speak yet. Your vocal cords are probably damaged from being inside those tanks for so long. Pre-Collapse tech is a bit harder to decipher, but you and your friends have been here for a, well, a very long time. Looks like the computers were running some sort of... detective story? Based on the data, it was a cumulative effort based on all the memories shared between the three of you- ah, there’s the fish-out-of-water look I was expecting.”

“Wa... wh-at...”

Shaking her head, the woman whom Deadwood could not identify, though she felt very familiar somehow, like he had met her before. The deep violet hair felt very close, but it was not registering at all who he could even be talking to. Though, from how she spoke, he doubted she was the one his thoughts could have been drawn to. Coughing heavily, he spat out what appeared to be two smaller tubes, falling to a semi-sitting position as he tried to clear his throat.

“All the computer says is that you three were found unconscious in some sort of ‘shool?’ Ah, that’s a c, so... a school. They couldn’t wake you, and you apparently had a rather substantial amount of capital thanks to a person you had been hired by who wanted to have a new... Cryogenics division? Huh. Well, he had them test out some new devices – the- the tubes you came out of? They’re Atlas Medical property? That name ring a... of course it doesn’t.”

“What... the hell... happened? All I remember was-”

A sputtering noise drew his attention elsewhere as Sunset awoke, feeling the slimy sensation of whatever was in her tube across the jumpsuit she wore. Flexing her hands, she stared at Deadwood and the unknown woman before her gaze turned to Rainbow, quickly rushing over without a second thought to ensure her friend was still alive.

“Ha... he... ah...”

“Index spare me, you lot are idiots. Don’t. Try. To. Speak. Your vocal cords are damaged, and there’s a little- and she vomited it up. Great...” The strange woman sighed as she pulled out what appeared to be some sort of gun, holding it up to Sunset’s neck. Deadwood’s eyes went wide as he tried to scramble towards Sunset and Rainbow, discovering quite quickly how numb his entire body was. Before he could scream at her to not do it, something made a quick hiss, and a thump echoed as a vial ejected and slammed into what appeared to be some sort of grated catwalk plating underneath his hands as he noticed barely understandable lettering and a white medical cross symbol.

“That was-”

“Medicine, you absolute moron. It’ll help her more since she’s a lot younger. You’re just going to have to deal with it for now. Oh, right, minor muscle atrophy. I’ve got something for that, hold on.”

Deadwood tried to reason with her to not inject him with something he was not entirely sure was even safe, from his perspective, but she brushed him aside as she pointed the gun-like device at his neck. A tiny stinging sensation painted the side of his neck, but the feeling of, well, feeling returned like a lightning bolt across his entire body. Standing up quickly, he started shaking as his body went through what felt like heatstroke, hypothermia and the flu all mixed into one, the feeling quickly passing as he stared wide-eyed at the woman.

“’Atlas Medical Nano-Restore. Guaranteed to put a new pep in your step.’ Stupid slogan, but... you can see the stuff works. Expensive though – we’ll talk about payment later.”

“Where... where the hell are-”

“That... I can answer in two minutes. Opening shutters.”

Before Deadwood could ask what she meant by shutters, a hazy light began to shine from behind him as he stared out beyond massive metal plates retracting into the ceiling and floor, though that slipped his mind as everything came into stark focus. Vehicles buzzed through the air in the coming sunlight, a train hovering above the ground as it transported... something across an expansive desert. From his perspective, they were hundreds of meters above whatever desert they surveyed. His hands instinctively went forward, contacting the most transparent glass he had ever touched.

Glancing beside him, he could see the same feeling spreading across to Rainbow and Sunset, the former finally having arisen with a little help from the woman with her strange ‘Atlas Medical’ materials and the weird injector. Their eyes stared down, growing wider as he stared, his attention focused on something happening in the distance, one of the flying vehicles shaking and sputtering as a tiny black speck flew away from it. An explosion later, and his analytical mind wanted to know so much more.

“This is going to be hard for all of you. Your lives... as much as it pains me to say, whoever you were in the past was lost long ago. But there’s more than enough chance to figure things out. That car belonged to one of the major corporations that run this little metropolis, and that’s the equivalent of the most legal way of collapsing competitors.”

Deadwood narrowed his eyes as he settled into a mood, his gaze focused as he tried to reason in his mind what he could do. Considering the vehicles, they could have technology that would have put him out of business years ago, but then again, people always underestimated the practicality of the human approach.

“So...”

“Welcome to Megacity 17.”

Author's Note

So... this is actually something I wanted to do for a while. I can't keep doing what I used to for this story and have it keep being good.

So I'm borrowing a little bit from something in development that a good friend of mine and I are working on. The project in question? Its working title is simply called 'Enigma.'

I know this isn't my best work, but I just came out of writer's block after... well, it's been a while since I wrote anything. As always, please use constructive criticism, as we all love to improve.