Alan Shoemaker: Detective

~~~Canterlot Suburbs, 2257 East Royal Way, December 25, 2020, 3:13 am~~~

Stepping off the bus while throwing on his now acquired trench coat, Alan made sure to steady himself, incase of hidden ice on the ground below. Despite not having a lot of moisture the past few days, there was still a chance that Mischievous Mother Nature would want to add some 'fun' to the detective's already hectic night. He can't risk hurting himself as he searches for the best source of help for Sunset.

Hopefully, meeting… her tonight will give some leeway to achievinghis goal.

"You sure this is the place, Shoes?" The gruff voice of the bus driver sounded over the low hum of the idle engine. Turning to face him, Alan noticed that, though his hair and beard were unkempt, the bus driver kept a respectful and professional look for his job. Something that he appreciated. Alan knew what it was like to take one's job seriously.

"Sure seems like it." Alan said, as he looked down to the scrawled notes on the piece of paper. It had the same address written down that was on the house and street sign. If Bill from public records was right, which he usually is, then what was told to Alan over the phone was definitely the right place. He just didn't know if it would be a good time considering…

"Well, I'll leave you to it then, but you better not forget this." The bus driver handed Alan his phone. He was kind enough to let it charge on the way over. "I'm sorry that it's not completely charged. If I had one of them supercharger things, I would've---"

"It's fine Phil, thanks." Alan said, smiling a tired smile and taking the phone. He was about to leave when he stopped, "oh," and rummaged through his pockets and pulled out his wallet, taking out a few Benjamin's. "Here. Thanks for the ride home, as well. Merry Christmas."

Alan hopped back out of the bus and headed toward the dark house but was stopped by Phil.

"Shoes, wait." Alan turned back toward Phil as he continued, "I'm Jewish!"

A semi-awkward pause lasted for a few seconds as Alan was taking the… random news in stride. It wasn't unwelcomed or anything, it was just… O… kaaaay..? He thought as he spoke to break the silence.

"Um… Mazel tov...?" Alan said warily, hoping not to offend.

Another long bit of silence stretched out as nothing but the bus's engine made any noise. Phil just stared back at Alan with a deadpan look, which made Alan think he said something wrong. When he was about to apologize, Phil cocked his head back and started to laugh. A very hearty laugh, to boot. Calming down after a few more seconds, he practically yelled out.

"I'm kidding ya, Shoes! I'm a quarter Jewish! Merry Christmas and L'Chaim!" He then grabbed the bus's door lever, turned it to shut the doors and drove off into the night without another word.

Shaking his head with a smile and chuckle as the bus sped off out of view, Alan then turned to the task at hand. Taking out his phone, he made certain that it was turned on, in case anyone tried to call. As it turned on he saw that the battery life read thirty-one percent. Good enough for now. He thought as he turned the ringtone all the way up and slipped it back into his trench coat pocket.

Looking up at the dark exterior of the one-story, one-car-garage home, he started to debate with himself whether this was a good idea or not. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he started walking toward the front door with determination.

"Sunset needs help." Alan said to himself. "Let's just hope that she will listen."

Climbing up the three steps to the darkened green door, Alan raised his hand to knock, only to pause. A flood of emotions and memories came into his mind about, what seemed to be, a long-distant past. Something he had not thought of for a long time before this night. Alas, seeing as there was no other option, besides waking up half the force, the chief, and a judge or two, early Christmas Day, no less, he gave in to the cause at hand, and knocked on the door.

No answer.

Of course, the household was asleep, so he had to knock louder. Which Alan did. Still, no response. He then tried the doorbell once. Then twice. Then multiple times at once.

This was pretty disrespectful, and any regular person would say psychotic and inhumane, due to disturbing one's sleep in the wee-hours of the morning. It couldn't be helped, of course, because of the little girl at the hospital. She needed help, and Alan concluded that this was the fastest way possible.

Again, after trying the doorbell for the sixth time, no answer. There was a slow, yet creeping sensation of dread coming over him. What if they weren't home? It was possible, seeing as the holiday season was at its peak, but it didn't help his concerned thoughts. Looking around the area, he notices that, much like the house he was at, there was no sign of life. Everything was dark and asleep, with the exception of the outside lamp posts, illuminating the now growing-smoggy neighborhood. The air quality was bad in this town during the winter. Every year.

While distracted, he failed to notice the lights within the house turn on. He was a bit startled when he heard the familiar sounds of muffled door locks being undone as he turned to see the now, bright green door opening slightly, as the occupant inside peered out to their unexpected guest.

The single, magenta eye peeking out at Alan in the darkness, stared at him for a second with a bit of nervous curiosity, before what seemed to be a few emotions taking hold in less than a second. Confusion to recognition. Recognition to Realization. Realization to even more confusion. Even more confusion to seething rage.

Alan was hoping the last feeling she had wouldn't come to light.

"Heh-hey!!" Alan started, half-saying, half-nervously-chuckling. Hopefully things will go smoothly. More so than last time. "Long time, no se---."

He couldn't finish, as the door slammed shut, despite it being open a few inches. It seriously seemed that the door would fall off from the force of the slam alone. Much to Alan's chagrin, though, the door not only stayed shut, but the locks were replaced on the door, and the lights of the house were turned out.

So much for smoothly, he thought bitterly to himself. This of course did not stop his resolve, as he leaned up against the door and slammed his fist on it a few times.

"Come on, open the door! I need to talk to you." Alan yelled out quickly, receiving an even faster response.

"GO AWAY!" The muffled, feminine voice of the house's owner shouted back angrily. This wasn't surprising to Alan, with their history and all. Even so, it still didn't stop him.

"Come on, damn it all. There's an emergency." He shouted out. "I need some information about---"

The door's locks were being undone, much to Alan's surprise. As his surprise turned to a string of hope, however, it turned to mild annoyance and impatience as the door opened a little ways and stopped, pulling the chain lock on the upper part of the door tight. The angry eye of the woman staring daggers at him made the situation all the more stressful.

"Information? About what? Some poor soul who doesn't know any better, so you can blame them for all the problems of your 'perfect world'?" She says, progressively getting louder as she finishes her hypothetical question. She then silently glowers at him, "you were never welcome, nor will you ever be, around us again. Especially my sister!" She emphasizes as she then slams the door again.

Pinching and rubbing the bridge of his nose, Alan takes a deep breath to try and calm his temper. It didn't work, considering he hadn't slept for almost two days, and he was craving a smoke.

"Ten years." He said. "That was ten. Fucking. Years ago!" He shouted, letting a bit of his temper flare up. If there was any person alive who could push his buttons just right in the wrong way, it was the vixen on the other side of the door. "Can we put that aside for the next couple minutes, please. I'm here as a detective, not a fri---." The door opened again, showing the glaring eye once more.

"Don't. You. DARE. Call me that." She said through gritted teeth. "And all that BS about 'being a detective' won't work here. Not after last time!" She said, still simmering.

Pinching the bridge of his nose even harder than before, Alan was at his wit's end. He didn't have time for this, and he knew that Sunset didn't have time. Breathing deeply, he went to kindly ask her for help.

Then his phone rang.

Jumping slightly, they both looked toward the noise, then each other. Though the surprise was there for a second, the eye in the door went back to being miffed at the eyes of the man outside. While the silence permeated beyond the ringing, they stared at one another, waiting to see if the other would relent.

"Will you please just listen to me? Give me a few minutes and I'll---" Alan expected it, but didn't like it, as he was interrupted yet again.

"I told you, you're not welcome here." She shouted back. "What makes you think that I'd even give you the time of day, if that were the case, huh?"

"Look, please, just let me explai---."

"There's nothing to explain!" She stated matter of factly, which caused Alan to lose more and more of his patience. "You're a liar, a cheater, very unhygienic individual, and a vulgar man with no love for anyone else, but himself!" The camel's back had broken.

"And you're a self-righteous, fucking CUNT!"

Alan… hadn't screamed like that in a while. If he wasn't staring daggers into the person beyond the door, he'd probably check his surroundings to see if any of the other homes were disturbed. If their bickering match didn't stir any other households, his profaned yelling probably did.

Staring back at him, more surprised than angry, but still upset nonetheless, she simply addressed the other noise-making thing within their vicinity that was annoying the both of them at that moment.

"You gonna get that?" She asked, deadpanned.

Though fuming from his lack of sleep, eating, and nicotine agitation, he begrudgingly and quickly pulled the phone out of his trench coat pocket, put it on speaker, and yelled at it.

"WHAT?!" If he was in his right mind, he would've thought to not yell. After all, it could've been someone important.

"H-hello. Is this Detective Shoemaker?" The vaguely familiar voice asked, with a hint of hesitancy.

"Yes it is. What is it?" Again, Alan was being aggressive. This night wasn't going well for him. He turned away from the door as he was expecting the answer to be the last thing he needed at the moment.

"This is Nurse Flagstaff, of the ICU wing at Canterlot General." She stated, hoping to assuage any more frustration that the detective may have. "I'm calling to give you more information regarding Sunset Shimmer's condition."

Again, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, his fury was quelled and he got ahold of himself. Being upset as he was, Alan was losing focus on the main reason why he was in the middle of the suburbs in the first place. As he was composing himself, the nurse continued.

"You said this would be the best number to reach you. Is this a good time?"

"Yes. Right. Sorry." He muttered. "How is she? Is she alright?" More worry was piling up as the call was going.

"Sunset is in stable condition, we are close to getting her body temperature back to normal." She said, with a tone akin to a mother speaking to her toddler. This news was good to hear. "We are in the process of testing her blood type, so we can give back to her what she lost."

"Well, great!" Alan said, relieved. Sunset was on her way to getting better. "That's wonderful news. How much longer will it be until she's well?"

There was a pause on the other end, so much so that Alan thought the phone disconnected. He was about to check when the nurse replied.

"That's… the reason why I called." She said, sounding hesitant, and somewhat confused. "You see, we were testing her blood, at least what we could get from her discarded bandages, to figure out her blood type. The thing is, though…"

She hesitated, for some reason. Alan was confused. They should know what to do during situations like this. Why are they having issues?

"What's happened?" Alan asked, mindlessly sticking his free hand in his pocket and pulling out a cigarette and lighter.

"Well…" The nurse started. "We usually do rapid tests to see what the unknown blood type is of a person..." She said, trying to explain the ordeal. "...and when we've tested Sunset's blood, well…" If Alan would have seen the nurse, she would've probably been in a state of not knowing what to say, but she said it anyway.

"Her blood type came back Inconclusive."

…

Huh, that's a first. Alan thought as he brought the cigarette to his mouth and lit it with the lighter. Taking a short, yet addictingly sweet puff, he exhaled, and felt a calming sensation fill his body. He then went back to the conversation.

"Well, that happens, tests can be faulty, right?" He asked, rhetorically. "Just test it again." He said, knowing that testing blood for certain things takes time and patience, and sometimes you gotta keep testing it until you get the right answer. He's put so many convicts away through this method alone that he knew enough to know what he was talking about.

"We did." Came the reply. "We went through four rapid tests with what we had, and they each came back Inconclusive. Despite having on-set hypovolemia, the doctor ordered a small portion of blood to be drawn from her to go through a standard test, which could take some time. So another rapid test was done from the drawn sample, and the answer was still the same."

For being chilly outside, it seemed to get a little bit colder, despite having his trench coat and newly lit cigarette. Just when they were so close to saving, what he thought was, a poor, helpless girl, something had to come up. Something had to block the way to the finish line. Just when he thought that they had to wait longer, a thought came to mind.

"Why tell me all this?" He asked curiously. "Surely you should be calling another hospital or doctor…? He trailed off.

"Well, funny thing. She started. Why is this situation funny? "The head doctor tonight said that if there was someone he could trust to divulge this information to at this time, it would be Detective Shoemaker. He said that you, uh… know a thing or two about medicine… and practicing it."

"Wait, who would---?" Alan started, confused. That is, until it occurred to him. He knew EXACTLY who the nurse was talking about. Dropping his smoke in his bewildered stupor, he then slapped his now cigarette-free hand to his face, making an audible slapping noise. "Oooh, fuck me…"

Silence came from the phone for a few seconds. "Sir?"

Snapping himself back to the present, Alan knew what had to transpire, but, again, he didn't know if he could handle all the shenanigans.

"Nothing." He said. "Let me get this straight. We need to find out her blood type, before any further damage could happen, correct?" The nurse stated the affirmative, as Alan asked, "What is the most pressing matter that needs to be resolved that I can help with?"

As though she anticipated that type of question, she answered, "we need a parent or guardian to come answer questions as soon as possible. To put together a better medical history." To this answer, Alan explained that he was doing just that.

"Wonderful." She happily said. "When can we expect them to come to the hospital?"

"We'll be there in about twenty minutes to a half-hour." Alan said, while planning his next few moves. "And thanks again, Merry Christmas." She repeated in kind, and the call ended.

Giving an exasperated sigh as he rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes, he couldn't help that he was missing something. Wondering what he was forgetting, he noticed that the lights in the house were on and that the door was open. All the way.

The homeowner, having removed the chain-lock and showing the interior of the home to the exterior, was standing there, in her pink nightgown, overlayed with a white, yet fuzzy bathrobe, along with matching slippers. The owner's blue, green, and pink hair, though somewhat bed-headed, was in a ponytail, and the white face of the owner had no trace of make-up. What's also interesting about the woman's face is that it didn't have the expected woman-scorned anger that she had earlier while peeking through the barely opened door. What she did have was that of terrified worry, almost as much as a mother to their seriously ill child. Seeing as the woman was a school principal, this wasn't unexpected.

"What happened to Sunset?" Celestia asked, barely above a whisper.

Staring at one another, Alan didn't know if her speaking first was a sign of truce or of a false sense of security. He could then speak or make the first move, but Celestia, being… Celestia was just as much a cunning genius as she was a complete bitch… not the right time or place, he thought, but couldn't help 'lighten the mood' in his own way by replying snarkily to her motherly fears.

"Oh, so, NOW you wanna talk!..."