A black griffon and a white mare left the movie theater among a crowd of other ponies. The griffon was Oliver, who was struggling to get his Zippo lit, while the mare, Fleur De Lis, appeared to be looking for someone or something.
"Ugh. Those newsreels still annoy me," Oliver said, lighting a cigarette as they walked away from the cinema.
"Oh come now Oliver, those newsreels are important," Fleur said, looking around.
"You still didn't answer my question by the way," Oliver said, blowing smoke into the cool February evening.
"What was the question," she asked, clearly and purposely playing dumb.
"Why do you still go out with me like this even though you're married," Oliver asked anyway, taking a drag on his cigarette.
"Oh come now Oliver, it is not like we're doing anything intimate. You are my friend Oliver and I enjoy spending time with my friends," she said with a smile.
"Thanks for that, Fleur," Oliver said.
*
Across town another black griffon stormed out of the bar, pissed about a poker game gone wrong, a big stallion, Bid, following him out.
"Oswald! You can't walk away from this," Bid shouted at the figure receding into the night.
"Relax Bid, the boss'll have his money or potentially something of higher value," the griffon said in a thick accent, spreading his wings and taking flight into the cloudy night.
*
Fancy Pants sat at his desk, doing his normal paperwork, Glenn Miller playing on the record player as he worked. He smoked from a pipe and thought about his anniversary the following day, grinning wider at his plans.
*
RING RING RING! CLACK!
"Hello," a bored unicorn sitting at a desk in a nondescript office spoke into the receiver.
"Hey Pen, it's Oswald, I'm in, I've got all the necessary tools, but I need a sky carriage for the pickup," the griffon on the other end said.
"Ok, I'll let Bravo know, he'll be there at about half past eight knowing him. Just go to the manor, you already know what to do," Inkpen replied, hanging up and dialing another number.
"Bravo," the pony on the other end said.
"You're on, meet Oswald at the Fancy Pants manor. Drop the package off at the North pier, Oswald will handle the rest," Inkpen said before hanging up.
Inkpen lit a cigarette, putting on his hat and overcoat, disappearing with a flash of magic.
*
As Oliver and Fleur arrived at the Fancy Pants manor the clock struck 8 and they stopped at the door.
"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Oliver," Fleur said.
"Thank you for inviting me," Oliver replied.
"Goodnight, monsieur Hellfire," she said, going inside.
"Goodnight," he replied.
With that, Oliver took off, not knowing what tomorrow held, but welcoming it all the same...
Ruined
Author's Note
Honestly I imagined When You Wish Upon A Star by Glenn Miller as the title music XD
POP!
The sound of a flashbulb, jarring and loud could be heard, marking the scene for the newspapers and eventually the history books with one loud POP.
The scene was grisly, enough blood to say that it's vessel had definitely been killed and after the blood had pooled, then smeared as the husk was dragged out and at the start of the trail was a bloody white hoof. Beside the trail of blood was a cigarette butt and on it was printed 3 red balloons in a bunch, the signature of Carnival Cigarettes. The detective on scene could only stare in awe at the utter calamity of the room. Bookshelves had been knocked over, the knives in the kitchen were glued into the knife block, the radio that had likely been on the counter had been thrown at the would be assailant by the blood markings on the broken components and the plug still stuck in the outlet. There was also a red marking on the wall with a few pink strands of hair stuck to it.
'Clearly she was startled by the assailant and attempted to defend herself and flee before being smashed into the wall, knocked unconscious,' the detective on scene thought.
'Whoever did this must've stabbed her many times for this much blood to be present,' he thought, stomach churning.
"Detective Pinkerton, we got Fancy Pants calm enough to give us a statement and a description as well as a suspect who seems to fit," a fellow Manehattan detective said, handing him a file and a sketch of the suspect.
"Apparently the assailant tried to clean up just as he walked in the door. He said he ran out back to a sky carriage, but the plate is coming back stolen and nobody's seen it since it was stolen last week," the detective said.
"Nice work, Glass. Take a couple officers and pay this 'Hellfire' a visit," Pinkerton said, a hoof caressing his mustache in thought.
"If not him, then who would go for someone leading in the poles for the next mayoral election," Glass asked.
"No, this kid fits. Take 'em," Pinkerton said, putting on his bowler hat and walking out the door.
*
I looked in the mirror, feeling dead on my feet as I made sure I looked presentable with my white shirt and black diamond pattern tie. I decided to leave my coat, rolling up my sleeves and putting on my watch before placing my files of photos I'd taken over the last week neatly in my suitcase. I put my lighter in my shirt pocket and my Cigarettes were tucked into the band of my shirt at my waist. I smirked as I thought about how easy it would be to hide in the night, my fur and feathers being black as the night itself. I put on my fedora, tipping it to the side before walking out onto the fire escape and taking flight. I flew slow enough to light a cigarette before diving to gain speed, barreling past a police sky carriage headed back the way I came.
The office came into view, a large triangular building off of 3rd and Main Street, a white building that stood out against the wondrous grey monolithic structures in the same block, but when I landed out front, I decided to go to the news stand to grab a snack and another pack of cigarettes.
The attendant smiled at me as I approached, starting to speak, "Good morning sir, would you like today's issue of Manehattan Daily?"
"Nah, just get me a pack of Flyers and a tuna sandwich," I said, pulling a bit from my wallet in my waistband and placing it on the counter.
He placed the cigarettes and the sandwich on the counter before bidding me farewell. I tucked the new pack of cigarettes in place of the old pack and began eating my sandwich, walking on my hind legs to carry my briefcase and eat my sandwich. I flashed my employee badge to the receptionist, who nodded as I walked toward the elevator, pressing the door button. When the doors opened, three ponies with MPD badges walked out as I walked in, pressing the button for the fifth floor. I waited, feeling the force upward as I whistled a Flank Sinatra song I had stuck in my head before the doors opened, revealing a straight shot view to Fancy Pants' office, where two detectives, a unicorn and a pegasus, stood, talking to an almost inconsolable Fancy Pants, who suddenly looked at me and went more pale than I'd ever seen a white pony.
He pointed at me and shouted loud enough for even me to hear, "That's him! He killed my wife!"
I froze, dropping my briefcase and half eaten sandwich as the pegasus barreled towards me, tackling me and sending my hat flying as he collided with me. Before I realized what had happened, I had been forced into hoof cuffs and wing binds, while the officer was reading me my rights.
'What in blue blazes just happened,' is all I could think as I was lifted up and dragged back into the elevator.
*
The silence was almost deafening in the little room with brown painted walls. I sat at a brown table, just waiting for the detectives to get back. I was panicking, checking my watch nearly every minute. I'd been here for nearly two hours with no information whatsoever as to why I was here. I could only sit there and smoke my cigarettes in an attempt to calm my nerves. Suddenly the door clicked and opened, revealing the tan unicorn in the cheap suit and walrus mustache. The old stallion floated a file to the table, slapping it down, causing me to jump. He took the seat across from me, his green eyes boring into mine.
"I'm detective Pinkerton," he said slowly, making sure I was paying attention.
"So, why'd you kill Miss de Li," he said, wearing a smoldering glare that burned into my soul.
"I-I d-don't know w-what you're t-talking ab-bout," I managed.
He leaned closer, closing the blinds that now covered my view of the precinct and vice versa.
"That right," he said sarcastically, before sitting back, "You've been going out with her for a while now, haven't you, feather brain?"
"Not romantically," I managed, taking a drag on my cigarette.
"Oh but you wanted it to be, didn't you," he said in an accusing tone.
"No, I-"
"Trust me kid, I don't blame you, but she said no, didn't she," he said.
"No, I-"
"And you couldn't handle that, could you," he snarled, getting in my face.
"Stop, I-"
"So, you followed her back into her house, didn't you," he spat.
"NO, I DI-"
"AND WHEN SHE TOLD YOU TO LEAVE YOU TRIED TO STAY, YOU'D ALREADY GOTTEN RID OF HER MEANS OF DEFENSE EARLIER THAT DAY, DIDN'T YOU, OLIVER HELLFIRE!"
"SHUT UP," I tried to shout, tears in my eyes.
"THE MORGUE OFFICE EXAMINED THE BLOOD AND YOU CLEARLY CHASED HER WHEN SHE TRIED TO GET TO THE PHONE, DIDN'T YOU! YOU SMASHED HER HEAD INTO THE FUCKING WALL BEFORE STABBING HER TWENTY EIGHT TIMES!!"
"SHUT UP," I screamed, tears streaming down my face.
"BUT, YOU FUCKED UP, OLIVER! FANCY CAME HOME WHILE YOU WERE TRYING TO COVER UP YOUR TRACKS," He continued to shout at my face.
"I DIDN'T KILL HER," I screamed, breaking down as he spread the pictures out for me to see.
The blood. All that blood. The once beautiful Victorian house was soaked in it. I could only cry as the detective leaned in closer.
"Where's the body, Oliver? Where did you put Fleur de Li?"
I breathed, doing my best to sit up, looking him dead in the eye, "I. Did. Not. Kill. Her."
"I've been doing this job for twenty five years mister Hellfire, do you really think you can pull one over on me that easy?"
I stood up, slamming my forelimbs on the table, "I DID NOT MURDER HER!"
He glared at me, standing up, "Sit. The fuck. Down."
I sat back down and he lit a cigarette, still looking me dead in the eye.
"We'll find the body Oliver and until we do, you're gonna stay right here in my precinct," he said.
"Glass, put this sonofabitch in a cell," Pinkerton said, blowing a cloud of smoke at me as the door opened.
I panicked, running straight over the other detective, straight for the window, just past the line of desks.
"STOP THAT GRIFFON," Pinkerton yelled.
Officers ran after me, a few tried to block me, but without thinking, I took flight.
CRASH!!
Glass bit into my skin, stinging as I flew. Two pegasi joined pursuit, following me through the maze of buildings before I went upward, flapping my wings as hard as I could, getting above the line of skyscrapers as the rain began to fall and sting my eyes. Seeing Grand Central Station, I dove for it, the officers struggling to keep up, but just before blasting through the doors, I made a last second decision and pulled up, inadvertently allowing the two police flyers to catch up. I saw the gleam of metal and turned my head, seeing a flash as one opened fire.
I felt the bullets wiz past me and I dove, flying through the 11 o'clock air traffic. I watched a civilian drop upon being hit by a stray bullet and flew up, avoiding a blimp, but with a quick turn, I flew down before curling into a fetal position, tucking my wings before bouncing off the blimp and in between the blimp itself and one of the side mounted billboards. I peeked, watching the cops fly past, headed back downward into the crowded city streets.
I wished I had a cigarette as I sat there, watching for any police.
"What the fuck was I thinking," I muttered to myself.
