A Day in Stalliongrad

Why would you want to see a cadaver? Is this some macabre desire? There must clearly be something wrong with you; however, you already came to that conclusion.

Muscle memory told you to take the money with you. Trusting it, you take the bag along.

Oh, and keys.

You exit the apartment. Everything seems cracked. The elevator has a big out-of-order sign. You walk down the stairways. Exiting the apartment-complex, you observe the urbanism – it is dreary despite the sunshine, the dust of the industrial part of the city carries in, covering all; passerby walk along the street, not noticing your existence, only occasionally glancing at the happenings at the perimeter; wind rushes by and with the cacophony of the city’s voices create an orchestra of urban life.

You notice the car that woke you up. These machines must be very noisy.

Motor carriages: They are new, they are expensive, they are a luxury good. This means that in Equestria they are a privilege of the rich; in Stalliongrad they are government property and therefore the privilege of the bureaucrats. The police here are one of the few that can so easily travel.

You go to the police tape, seeing the two again you greet them; they seem to be done with their questioning of the locals, “shouldn’t there be more police officers?”

Their looks are bored. They seem to be desensitized to these things. They aren’t bothered by the covered corpse. Snowy answers from the other side of the tape, “ever since they split the police work from the military we have been understaffed. We’re just watching until central sends someone to take the body.”

Hoax stands near the body. In your peripheral you see her staring at Snowy.

“Can you lift the cover?” you ask.

“No, we have regulations, this is a crime scene not an exhibition.”

“But I can help.”

She raises an eyebrow.

You think for a short moment, “you see this,” you point at your flank, “ I didn’t get this cutie mark for no reason. I was the best detective in my hometown.”

It is a lie – or maybe it isn’t – you don’t know what it means or where you got it.

Clearly, you were the best detective. You could find every string and thread from the normally unseen to the nichest creeks.

Or maybe you just liked to look at fabric.

Nonetheless it appears to be working.

“Snowy, you shouldn’t,” Hoax chimes in, seeing her partner be convinced by this simple line of reasoning.

Mulling it shortly over, Snowy answers, “there isn’t much damage that could be done. And if it helps us, why not? Lift it.”

Hoax obeys her superior and lifts the cover.

Dead, empty eyes stare at the void, a horn protrudes out of her forehead like Snowy’s, the facial features stuck in eternal sadness, livor mortis and rigor mortis already set in, slowed down only by the cold, and something of a burn mark stains the place where her heart should have been. It is at the second stage of death. The death occurred 6 hours ago, maybe sooner.

Her hair is long and unkempt even before she died. Her coat has the same shade of green as you do.

What a weird coincidence.

“It appears to be a clear case of a magical attack. Do you second this?”

You eye her up, down, and up. And despite the distance – you dare not enter the threshold.

There is something on the neck. These aren’t normal marks.

Don’t tell her about it. If they figure out, she died by other means, you could incriminate yourself. And who knows? Maybe you did kill her.

If you tell them and aid them, you could look less suspicious.

“The neck. Could you push away a little of the fur?” you ask.

Hoax – now curious at what you are seeing – does so. There are deep bruises. “This lividity wasn’t caused by livor mortis.” You say.

The terms flow through you.

“Why would some creature strangle a corpse?” says the irresponsible police officer.

Hoax chimes in, “to distract us.”

“Yes,” you say, “the shot could’ve been added postmortem.”

“We probably have a magically capable and a magically uncapable creature.” Hoax says.

You continue. “They wanted to hide the fact that she died by non-magical means by a non-magical creature. The actual murderer got a unicorn to shoot her.”

“But it could still be just one creature.” Snowy adds. “Perhaps it was an act of frustration or anger. Or just a deal gone wrong.”

This time Hoax is on your side. “It would be an interesting strategy. This could be exactly the thing they want us to believe. The horned creature could long have left. The other one would stay unsuspected.”

“These things are rarely this dramatic. The evidence isn’t conclusive enough. We still need to find out her identity and have a proper autopsy.”

Many murders are never solved. It’s likely that this could be one of them.

“She probably was killed here. Based on the blood loss it would have been noticeable if she were moved. Though the rain washed it away, thus she could have been murdered somewhere else. Although that wouldn’t make sense – normally, you’d want to move a corpse away from the city, not into it. Either they wanted to have the corpse be visible or they had no other choice. And looking at her state of decay, she couldn’t have died longer than two days ago. It most likely happened at night when it is less likely to be noticed. She also doesn’t have broken bones or bruises; so, she wasn’t thrown out of one of the apartment buildings.”

More could be figured out with a proper autopsy. And without her identity, there is only so much you can do.

If only you could get you hooves on that corpse.

They both look at you. A moment passes. “That’s quite an analysis. Hoax, please, cover her up.”

She does as told. The dismal appearance of the dead that besmirched the land of the living is gone. The pressure of sadness is lifted off your shoulders.

“Say, what is your profession, mister Thread?” Snowy asks.

Suspicion. You should divert the topic.

No, wait that’s a perfect opportunity.

“Oh, yeah. About that. Are you folks currently hiring?”

“You want to join the citizen’s militia?”

“Yes, it sounds very cool. Also, those uniforms –” You wink at her. Use slang. “ –fresh.”

Why did you wink at her? That was weird. Don’t do that again. It doesn’t mean anything and makes you look foolish.

Yeah, baby, make her see how chill you are.

It goes over her head, “tovarish, it isn’t ‘cool’. It is mostly paperwork. And clothing shouldn’t decide your future. But nothing is stopping you to be on our side, you’d have to talk to our chief for that.”

Just imagine. The uniform. The action. You could carry a gun. You can be a police hero and protect the world from wrongdoings.

“You know what, I am going to do exactly that. Where’s the police station?”

She tells you.

The Royal Guard: Mutiny, deserter, criminals, rats, enemies from the outside. Why should one separate the police and the military in the peaceful Equestria? It’s not like there will be an invasion any time soon. While Equestria lagged behind with the rest of the world in this aspect; the royal guard was nothing more than a glorified, militarized police force. As it turns out one needs to do more than sending the occasional guard to a dispute gone awry. The danger is larger. It comes from outward; no repeat of the Cantrelot Wedding. It comes from inward. Why are you whispering? You needn’t whisper if you had nothing to hide. You have nothing illegal to hide, do you? You aren’t planning anything, are you? Not like the traitors in Princessyn. And they called themselves Royal Guard?! Yeah, sure they call themselves the ‘Citizen’s Militia’ or ‘the Red Army’ now. But do you know what they really are? Traitors. Terrorists. Every last one of them.

On the other hoof, you really like the uniform and the hat. Besides, being a revolutionary is in. Haven’t you heard? Heard from whom? Don’t worry about it. Being loyal is out, and betraying your nation, your race, and fighting for ideals are all the rage now.

The ponies are hungry, after all. And what is friendship worth if you can’t feed yourself?

For now, your mind can’t come up with anything useful. You have to bite your lips. Before you give in to the urge to go on a tirade about *the things* your mind fed you, you exit the scene.

You give your goodbyes to the two; there isn’t much else for you, and you still have date. Snowy turns away, looking at Hoax. Going away, you keep listening in.

“Hoax, do you want to do something afterwards, after the workday? How about some coffee.”

“Sounds good.”