Zebra Crossing or A S.M.I.L.E Turned Upside Down

by Rego

Rating: teen
Tags: Bon-Bon, Twilight Velvet, Random, Zecora, Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Mystery, Comedy
Length: 11951

When a sudden surprise rears its head at the Wonderbolt Reservists Race Day, Bon Bon and Lyra leap into action. Will Zecora, the potion-making private eye, unravel this mystery before Manehattan's underworld consumes Twilight Velvet?

An afternoon working the Wonderbolt Reservists Race Day gets turned upside down when a sudden surprise rears its head, dragging a reluctant Bon Bon back into the saddle of Agent Sweetie Drops. With the help of her marefriend, Lyra, they leap into action to uncover the mystery lying beneath a—with little to go on, the potion-making private eye, Zecora, steps in when no pony else will to help a poor mare in way over her head. Will one lone zebra be enough to save Twilight Velvet from the darkest corners of Manehattan?

Exquisite Corpse Horse is a chaotic writing collaboration between members of Cafe Hay. This prompt's theme was "Reverse Course Horse" where the last chapter was written first with subsequent authors having to write the preceding chapter. Each author was only given access to the chapter written before theirs and a 200 character message. Results certainly varied.

This backwards facing Exquisite Horse was written by these lovely authors by order of appearance:
Rego, AltruistArtist, The Red Parade, The Sleepless Beholder, Dashie04, PseudoBob Delightus, FanOfMostEverything, EileenSaysHi, Silver Needle, and Rego (me again).

Previous Exquisite Horses:
Cheerilee's Normal Day
It Was Just Supposed To Be Lunch

Published 2024-09-24 11:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-09-24 11:10:01 UTC

Chapter 1 — Rego

“Chocolates, candies, and goodies! All the sweets you could ever eat, we’ve got them here at Bon Bon’s Bonafide Bonanza!” Lyra shouted into the disinterested crowd. “Come get some sweets from the sweetest treatery all the way from Ponyville!”

Bon Bon had long given up on correcting her wife with each escalation of her little candy stand. She wasn’t even sure treatery was a word, but the candy-maker always appreciated Lyra’s perseverance, even if it was often over-the-top. Still, it didn’t seem like many ponies at the Wonderbolt Reservists Race Day were too interested in what she had on offer. It was hard enough just keeping the chocolate from melting from the bright sunshine.

“I knew I should’ve brought the ice cream machine.” Lyra kicked the ground and sighed bitterly.

“No we shouldn’t have. Lugging that thing around would’ve cost us more than we’d make back.”

Lyra puffed her cheeks out. “I’ve got magic.”

“And you would’ve been exhausted long before we got here.” Bon Bon trotted to her love’s side and stroked her mane. “I don’t want you wearing yourself out for a milkshake. If this whole day is a wash, we can still enjoy spending time outside of Ponyville for once.”

Lyra tried to look away, but Bon Bon wouldn’t let those golden eyes escape. Her hoof shifted down the side of her mare’s face and she turned them back to where they should be: only on her. The unicorn melted into a smile seeing her candy mare ready to melt in her mouth. Ever-so gently, they pulled closer together and—

“One bag of bon-bons, Sweetie Drops.”

The tender moment was shattered with an old third wheel’s sudden surprise interruption. She whipped around to face one of the ponies she thought she’d left in the past a long time ago.

“You’ve got the wrong mare.” Bon Bon hissed.

“What?” The bouncy pegasus asked. “But isn’t that your name?”

“It’s Bon Bon and always has been. What are you doing here, Surprise?”

“Buying bon-bons from your something-treatery bonanza, I think. You always made the yummiest trail mix for long trips.”

Bon Bon stopped herself from blowing a fuse. The pegasus had always acted the way she looked, a white cloud with her head lost in the skies. She was a fast flier and spontaneous thinker whose stupid brilliance seemed like an enigma. Still, she was somehow more grounded than the local bubble-headed party mare back in Ponyville.

“I didn’t know you knew a Wonderbolt, Bonnie,” Lyra said with a smile.

“Did you forget about Rainbow Dash?”

Lyra blew a razzberry. “We’ve known her for years. She doesn’t count.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes and went back behind her stand to get a bag for her old acquaintance.”So, a bag of bon-bons is two bits. Anything else?”

The pegasus scratched her chin. “Maybe. But I’m not sure if the weather schedule will be favorable tomorrow.”

Bon Bon froze in place. No. This wasn’t happening. She hadn’t even asked the right question for the call sign. After finally disposing of that stupid bugbear, she’d left her life of monster hunting and espionage behind her. Agent Sweetie Drops was retired. At least Surprise was able to read through the unspoken lines and had the decency to look apologetic.

“Bonnie? You okay?” Lyra asked.

“Just fine, Ly-Ly. She just hasn’t kept up with the weather schedule.” She gave Surprise a pointed stare. “Right?”

Surprise nibbled on her lip and shook her head. “Please? It’s super-duper important.”

Lyra tilted her head. “What is?”

“It has nothing to do with me now.”

Finally catching onto the conversation, Lyra leaned over to Bon Bon’s ear. “Is this that secret spy stuff you told me about before?”

“If it was, Surprise should know better.”

Her marefriend glanced back at Surprise, who was still pleading silently for help. “Come on, Bonnie. Don’t be so stubborn. Your friend might really be in trouble.”

“Lyra, please. I’m just a candy maker now. I shouldn’t get involved with this.”

“We,” Lyra corrected. “There’s no way that I’m missing out on this. Ever since you told me your little secret, always wanted to see my sweet candy spymare in action,” Lyra purred before bumping her flank into Bon Bon’s, sending a thrill through her whole body.

Bon Bon wanted to say no, but her wife was throwing surprises of her own now. Stupid sexy Lyra. “What about the other Wonderbolts?” Bon Bon asked.

Surprise shook her head.

Potentially compromised. Fantastic. This day was going from zero to a hundred lickety-split. “Fine. But you’re buying my entire stock, melted or not.”

“Oh, thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!” Surprise grabbed the couple and gave them both a big hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy it all up myself. And after we’re done, my friend can use them with her strawberries!”

Bon Bon blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s no time! Sunrise is keeping an eye on things for me, so we gotta get to HQ ASAP before 3-2-1 goes bad.”

“Sunrise? You mean Strawberry Sunrise?” Bon Bon nearly buried her hooves into her face. “Don’t tell me you got a civilian wrapped up in whatever is going on.”

Surprise opened her mouth before thinking better of it and nodding. “Okay. Then I won’t!”

Bon Bon balked at the Wonderbolt, but kept her swears to herself. Whatever was happening, Bon Bon only knew one thing for sure: today was going to be a long day.

Author's Note

Exquisite ~~Corpse~~ Horse is a chaotic writing collaboration between members of Cafe Hay. This prompt's theme was "Reverse Course Horse" where the last chapter was written first with subsequent authors having to write the preceding chapter. Each author was only given access to the chapter written before theirs and a 200 character message. Results certainly varied.

My stories are usually dedicated to the Audience of One, but it wasn't just me writing this. So... I hope you enjoy the fun anyway! :twilightsheepish:

Chapter 2 — AltruistArtist

Bon Bon was pretty sure there wasn’t supposed to be a red blinking light coming from the captain of the Wonderbolts’ office. Unless, of course, Spitfire had some heretofore undisclosed hobby in robotics. That would explain the presence of the metal device sitting atop her desk like some garish paperweight, a nasty tangle of wires protruding from its smooth, shiny exterior.

“See what I mean? Freaky!” Surprise squeaked, crowding up against Bon Bon to press her face flat against the tiny glass window set in the captain’s office door. The flapping of her wings was stirring up a small cyclone in the hallway of Wonderbolts Academy.

“Freaky is an understatement.” Bon Bon dropped down on all four hooves. “That looks like an improvised explosive device, and a sophisticated one at that.”

“Leave it to you to determine how complex it is from a glance,” Strawberry Sunrise remarked. Bon Bon assumed it was a compliment, though with her naturally condescending tone, it wasn’t an assumption she could make in confidence. “So, what do you think? Are you able to disarm it?”

“Of course she is!” Lyra tossed a hoof over Bon Bon’s shoulder. “If anypony can save Wonderbolts Academy from turning into a big heap of sky rubble it’s my Bonnie!”

Bon Bon forced a smile under her wife’s nuzzling. “If I’m going to save anything, I need to be able to actually get inside Spitfire’s office. Does anypony have a key?”

Surprise burst into a fit of giggles. “Aww—you’re funny Bon Bon! Spitfire would sooner recruit that one wacky mare from the Washouts than give me a spare key to her office. She calls it ‘professional boundaries,’ but I know it’s because she doesn’t want to find a whoopie cushion on her chair during a meeting. Can’t imagine why, though.”

Lyra exchanged a snickering glance with Bon Bon who found she was becoming increasingly curious about how Surprise ever managed to clear cadet status. “In that case,” Bon Bon said, “I can try picking it.”

“No luck there, either.” Strawberry primly shook her head. “Unless you can pick your way past a chair.”

A sinking feeling plummeting through her chest, Bon Bon pressed her face to the glass once more, only to confirm that somepony indeed had wedged the back of Spitfire’s desk chair under the handle.
Bon Bon grumbled, “Whoever did this must have gone through the window and locked it up behind them. That all but confirms it was a pegasus.”

Cursing this potential disaster to Tartarus and back, she narrowed her eyes, cupped her hooves around her face, and focused on the bomb. The details were obscured by the distance and the vexing fog of her breath, but Bon Bon finally found what she was looking for—a subtle glimpse of hope.

“I think it’s remote activated.”

She turned to the three mares with her. “Which means finding a way inside is less of a concern than finding the device set to trigger this one.”

As they nodded and murmured in relief, Bon Bon paced, all business, sweeping her companions with an interrogating stare. “Surprise, did anypony suspicious come through here today?”

The boisterous Wonderbolt shook her head. “Nope! Like I said, I just noticed the flashing when I was walking by! I saw some of my squadron-mates, a few new cadets…” She pressed at the end of her snout, as though her memory was aided onward by the tapping of her hoof. “Oh! And Ditzy Doo of course, at the same time she usually delivers the mail. Although, come to think of it, she didn’t have her mailbag on her. Or her cute hat! How can a mailmare make deliveries without her hat?”

Bon Bon ground her teeth. “She might not have been delivering mail, but something else.”

“No way!” Lyra was shaking her head. “You can’t seriously be suspecting Ditzy! She’s a sweetheart. She wouldn’t drop off a bomb at Wonderbolts Academy.”

“Maybe not willingly. But she’s a pony with regular access to places all across Equestria. Nopony would think twice if she showed up to plant a bomb somepony else coerced her into delivering.”

Lyra’s ears drooped. “Oh no. Poor Ditzy.”

“Well it’s about to be ‘poor Wonderbolts Academy’ if we don’t hurry,” Strawberry interjected. “Ditzy is our best lead, right? Bon Bon, you should head to her place. I’ll keep watch here.” She gestured to her earpiece. “Just radio me if you find anything. Assuming I don’t blow up first.”

Bon Bon smiled wryly. “We both know you wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I’ll come too!” Surprise exclaimed. “You’ll need a pegasus to deliver the mail after all!”

She was met with a trio of bewildered stares and laughed, turning one right back at them. “Because Ditzy didn’t have her mailbag with her? Geez, have you all not been paying attention?”

As Bon Bon ran down the powdery dirt paths of Ponyville, her wife beside her and Surprise gliding overhead, she found that the buildings looked remarkably similar—even if one of them might have contained a remote detonator. The call to action that morning was the first Bon Bon received in a long time, but her vigilance hadn’t dulled in the interim. Ponyville may have been home, but she was never fooled to believe its pastoral thatched houses and storefronts were as innocent as they appeared. Not when she had witnessed monsters emerge from them.

Bon Bon came to a skidding halt at Ditzy’s porch. Lyra was panting a half-step behind her and Surprise looped twice in the air before alighting on the balcony above the door. Without a word to either of them, Bon Bon deftly pulled her set of picking tools from her saddlebag and got to work breaking into her sweetly unassuming neighbor’s house.

“Something smells good. Suspiciously good…” Surprise was murmuring from above.

Bon Bon pressed her ears to her temples as she focused on threading her pins through the lock, a bead of sweat running between her eyes. “I’ll keep lookout,” Lyra said, her hooves thumping on the wood slats of the porch. “Also, Surprise is right. Something does smell pretty good.” She sniffed. “Like boysenberry? No—blueberry?”

Unlike the muttering from Surprise, her wife’s voice smoothed out all possible distractions, melding into background noise. Bon Bon had just felt the dead bolt unlatch when Lyra hissed: “Somepony’s coming!”

Bon Bon twisted the knob and bolted upright. “Surprise! Inside! Now!”

A white blur of feathers swept through the door, Bon Bon and Lyra hurrying behind. Lyra had been right about the sweet smell in the air, like something fresh from the oven. Kicking the door closed behind her, Bon Bon crept to the edge of the window, peeking below the curtain.

“It’s just Applejack,” she whispered. The orange mare was trotting at a leisurely pace down the road. “I don’t think she saw us. She’ll pass by.”

Bon Bon surveyed the house, running her tongue over her teeth. She rose onto her hind legs and began rifling through a bookshelf.

But then came Lyra’s whisper: “Actually… I don’t think she is.” She was crouching beneath the window sill. “Oh Celestia; she’s at the door!” Her eyes went wide and she skittered backward, flattening out on the floor like a turquoise unicorn-shaped rug.

Then came a steady shave-and-a-haircut—two bits knock. A pause, just long enough for Bon Bon’s stomach to flip. Then a second round of the same rhythm.

“Ditzy? Ya home?”

Bon Bon was frozen stiff. Until she saw Surprise approaching the door.

She was saying, “We better let her know that we’re taking care of some extremely important bomb-related business so she doesn’t get suspicious.”

Bon Bon was on her like a flash. Muscle memory kicked into action, and she had Surprise on her belly, haunches pinning her wings to her sides. They rolled under a nearby table and Bon Bon clamped a hoof to her mouth. “Or we stay quiet and hope she leaves!” Bon Bon panted into the flicking white ear beneath her muzzle. A little squeak of apparent agreement rose from Surprise’s throat.

Bon Bon’s head rose to confirm whether Lyra was out of sight. But it seemed her wife had other plans.

Lyra’s face was screwed up in intense concentration, the kind of expression she wore when trying to beat Bon Bon at a board game. She was also wrapped in a shining green field of magic. And before Bon Bon could ask what in Celestia’s name she was doing, Lyra disappeared in a shimmery flash.

Bon Bon blinked. Beneath her, Surprise jerked as she let out a little “eep.”

“Applejack! What a coincidence!”

That was Lyra’s voice calling out, muffled through the wall. Her words were punctuated by her hastened hoofsteps, making her way to Applejack at Ditzy’s door.

“Oh. Hey, Lyra.” Applejack’s silhouette appeared through the curtain. “Can’t say it’s that much of a coincidence. Considerin’ we are neighbors and all.”

“Right. We sure are!” Lyra laughed, sounding out of breath. “I meant: what a coincidence we both showed up at Ditzy’s place at the same time!”

Applejack’s hooves shuffled on the porch. “Right. I guess you didn’t get your mail, neither?”

“Nope, sure didn’t! And that’s because…” Lyra cleared her throat. “Uh—she’s on vacation! You know this time of year is just perfect to go see Rainbow Falls. She actually asked me to cover her deliveries while she was gone. You know I can never turn down a pony who needs a helping hand!”

“...Hand?”

“Anyway, I’m so sorry Applejack! I slept way too late and missed the usual delivery time. And on my first day on the job, too. I won’t make that mistake again!” There was a rough scraping, like a pony being bodily pushed down the short steps of a porch. “You should just head on home. The mail will arrive at Sweet Apple Acres before you can say, well, apples!”

Author's Note

Message given to Rego for Chapter 1:
Have fun writing Strawberry Sunrise!

Chapter 3 — The Red Parade

“Alrighty then… I’ll see you around, Lyra!”

“Yup! See ya!”

Bon Bon held her breath, willing her body to remain as still as possible. The door shut, and Lyra squinted through the peephole. “She’s leaving… Still walking… Still walking… Around the corner… Annnnnnd… Gone.”

Bon Bon counted fifteen extra seconds in her head. Once she was certain that Applejack wasn’t returning, she removed her hoof from Surprise’s mouth. “Okay. Get up.”

Surprise giggled as she began to untangle her limbs and extract herself from beneath the table. “That was fun! It’s just like playing hide and seek with Spitfire! That’s when I hide from her when she’s mad so she can’t write me up until she forgets about what I did!”

“This isn’t a game,” Bon Bon muttered, pushing past her to continue ransacking the bookshelf. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

“And pie.”

“What? Lyra, I said that if you weren’t going to take this seriously, you couldn’t come!”

“No, pie. There’s a pie on the windowsill.” Lyra pointed to the living room window, where a rather large pie was indeed resting on the sill. What caught Bon Bon’s attention was the abnormal amount of wiring that seemed to be coming out of its side.

“Yummy!”

“Surprise, no!” Bon Bon pushed the pegasus backwards and approached the suspicious pastry.

“That’s no pie, is it?” Lyra asked.

“Honey… What do you think?” Bon Bon rotated the pie carefully, noticing little bits of metal and circuitry penetrating through the dough.

“I knew that Ditzy was a bad baker, but I didn’t know she was that bad!”

Bon Bon muttered to herself and pressed the button on her earpiece. “Strawberry, we found the second device in Ditzy’s house.”

“Great!” came the reply. “Unfortunately we still can’t get into Spitfire’s office, so Wonderbolts Academy might still explode. Can you figure out what yours does?”

“Well… It’s in a pie.”

“Ooh! What flavor?”

Bon Bon’s eye twitched. “What does it matter what flavor?! Are all of you insane?”

“A little,” said Lyra.

“Yes!” said Surprise.

“So I’ve been told,” said Strawberry.

Bon Bon muttered a string of curses under her breath. “Whatever. I’m going to see if I can figure out what this thing does.”

“Okay! Don’t blow yourself up!” Strawberry replied with her usual faux-enthusiasm.

“Lyra, you and Surprise better get somewhere safe.” Bon Bon squinted at the pie, formulating her plan of attack.

Then, she watched in horror as a butter knife suspended by a green aura levitated past her. “Lyra. What are you doing?”

The knife slid through the top of the pie and removed it effortlessly. “We didn’t explode!” cheered Surprise.

“You’re welcome!” sang Lyra.

Bon Bon made a mental note to give her wife a long, deep lecture about the dangers of approaching unknown devices. But that would have to wait. She discarded the pie top and gazed into the pin. “Strawberry, come in.”

“Yours truly speaking!”

“The device here isn’t a bomb. It looks like it interfaces with the device at the Academy.” Bon Bon took the bag she had brought and placed the pie-machine inside. “We need to get these two things together and hope that Strawberry can piece this together.”

“Oooh, but first!” Surprise went over to the doorway, where Ditzy’s courier bag was resting. “We got to deliver the maillllll!”

“There’s no time for that!” screamed Bon Bon.

Lyra cleared her throat. “I mean… We kind of have what we need. Why don’t we let Surprise take care of it? Maybe… Have some time to ourselves, you know? Have our own adventure?”

Surprise lept over to Ditzy’s coatrack and threw on a black coat. “I’m ready for my duties!” she chirped, snatching an envelope and staring at it. “To Miss Twilight Velvet… Cordially invited to A.K. Yearling’s Party!”

“Is that what it says or are you making it up?”

Surprise just giggled. “Here I go!” With that, she leapt out the window and darted down the road.

“A party? Do you think that’s important?”

“Honestly honey… I have no idea.”

Author's Note

Message given to AltruistArtist for Chapter 2:
Have fun.

Chapter 4 — The Sleepless Beholder

“AK will pay.” That was all that was written down on the cryptic message Twilight Velvet got in the mail that morning.

Who was AK? Ant Keratin, the up and coming changeling singer? All Kick, the famous buckball player? Her three blocks down neighbor Amber Key? AK 47, the fictional hitpony from those games Shining's friends played when they came over?

And pay what? Did they owe a debt? Did they cross the wrong pony? Or were they just covering some expenses she didn’t know about?

Velvet couldn’t make heads or tails of this, and that was all even before asking why they would send this message to her of all ponies. It was definitely a case of wrong address, but due to the vaguely threatening feel of the message, Velvet wasn’t sure she should just discard it and move on. A part of her wanted to take this to the police and ask them to look into it, but another part of her reminded that she was currently a suspect of attempted murder. Just because she had forgotten Flash Sentry was allergic to Dandelions when she gave Shining some sandwiches for him and his coworkers.

With a sigh, Velvet decided she wasn’t going to be involved in whatever this was and crumpled the paper into a ball before throwing it away. “I get enough stress from hearing about what Twilight is doing every week.”

“What was it, Velvs?” Her husband asked as he came out of the kitchen with a fresh batch of fresh pastries.

“Oh, just some junk mail, nothing important.” She jumped onto her seat and smiled as Night Light gave her a plate of fresh baked goods. She quickly tasted one, letting out a little mumble of enjoyment. “Oh, you've outdone yourself, dear.”

“Thanks you, love.” He sat down in front of her and took a bite out of a pastry. “Wanna do something tonight? We could go to the park and have a picnic under the stars, see what constellations Luna makes today.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. It'll be like our first days dating,” she looked back at those memories with a smile. Who knew life would take her in this direction? With a loving family, two wonderful children, and a comfy house. “I'll make sure to pack some extra treats.”

Light smirked. “Oh, really? What will you be cooking?”

“Nothing, dear, I would end up burning it. But I can buy a little surprise~” she poked him on the nose before cleaning her lips with a napkin. “I’ll go get it now just to be sure. Mind cleaning the disease while I’m gone?”

“Sure thing.” Light moved in to give her a kiss before taking the plates and moving to the kitchen.

Velvet quickly took her saddlebags and a couple of bits, walking out of the house to the sunny day and taking in the fresh air. “Now… where was that bakery Pinkie recommended in her Parties 101 book?”

Velvet strode through Canterlot at a leisure pace, having no hurry to get to her destination as the calm day invited to just move around and enjoy the scenery and the warm sun. It was nice and quiet, maybe a bit too quiet. Velvet stopped suddenly, paying more attention to her surroundings, noticing brick walls protecting large storehouses and industrial buildings. Particularly, one of them had a small graffiti showing a crossed off compass rose.

“Oh, I seem to have gotten a bit too carried away,” she said nervously before turning around only to find herself right in front of a pony wearing baggy clothes and a hood that covered their face, with their blocky snout poking out of it.

“It happens tonight.” the pony said without context.

Velvet blinked. “Meaning?” quick as lightning, an elegant envelope was placed in her hoof. Out of curiosity, she opened it with her magic and read it. “An invitation to… AK Yearling’s party in her mansion? But I barely know-” she looked up and saw the pony gone.

“Does this have to do with the message in my mail?! I think you got the wrong pony!” she shouted to the empty street, but got no response. Looking back at the card, Velvet wondered why she would be invited. It’s true that she edited for a few important people, some more than the public knew about, but Yearling had never been one of them, she was famously against sharing any of her work to anypony while she was making it, only the finished version ever saw eyes other than hers. But despite her wishes and plans, she couldn’t reject such an invitation without starting some sort of drama.

Letting out a sigh, Velvet placed the invitation inside her saddlebag and got back on track, buying the cake she wanted but as an apology instead of a treat.

Author's Note

Message given to The Red Parade for Chapter 3:
God help you.

Chapter 5 — Dashie05

The party was the height of social power in Equestria. Thanks to her ties with Twilight Sparkle, and— through a few degrees of separation— Rainbow Dash, Twilight Velvet was invited on a contingency. But, she couldn’t help but feel out of place.

The Yearling Manor was arguably the biggest and most impressive mansion in Equestria. A towering gothic monolith that was more like a castle than a cozy cabin.

And Twilight Velvet was here, awkwardly drinking punch in the corner.

AK Yearling was there, as was her staff, a few ponies Twilight Velvet really did not care about, and Rainbow Dash, who was keen to talk to her favorite author.

Twilight Velvet had dressed for the occasion, golden bracelets shining with opalescent radiance, paired with a Romance-era dress, essentially the fanciest she could look without a cushion of bits to rest a throne upon.

Twilight Velvet haphazardly discarded her plastic cup, and started to walk up to Rainbow Dash. She at least knew the brazen blue pegasus, and could hold a conversation.

“And then Daring Doo went woosh, ‘You will not pass me’, and all that! I loved that part!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, currently fangirling something fierce.

“Hello there Twilight Velvet,” AK Yearling mentioned in an almost emoteless cadence, dressed the same way she always was. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“It’s certainly… something,” Twilight Velvet muttered with a light giggle.

“Oh yes, yes, I thought I’d invite the mother of one of my best fan’s favorite friends…” AK Yearling mentioned, holding a hoof to her face as if that was a perfectly understandable sentence to follow.

“And I appreciate it, I really do,” Twilight Velvet said, a little painfully. “But I’m not familiar with anybody here except for your fan over there.”

Rainbow Dash waved to Twilight Velvet, making sure to take as much of the spotlight as possible.

“Oh, yes, I should probably introduce the team… shouldn’t I?”

Twilight Velvet gave a sheepish nod, and AK Yearling lithely departed into the crowd.

“So… any idea why we’re here?” Twilight Velvet asked Rainbow Dash.

“Oh I just got an invite in the mail and I thought, ‘wow I get to hang out with Dar— AK Yearling! Awesome!’ So, I came.” Rainbow Dash looked down at the ground. “I don’t trust her team, they seem… sketchy.”

As if on cue, AK Yearling returned, four ponies in tow.

“This is my team here…” AK Yearling started.

She gestured to the leftmost pony, a stern unicorn with a stiff upper lip. A monocle in one eye and a permanent squint in the other. In his magic, he carried a serving tray, albeit one without any food.

“This is my butler, Randolph.”

Randolph gave a polite bow, “Charmed to meet you.”

“You may go.”

Next AK Yearling stepped over, pointing towards an earth pony in a tall chef’s hat, plump and prim, bubbling over with joy.

“This is my cook, Honey Mustard… everyone calls her ‘Honey’ because she’s sweeter than cake.”

“Hii!” Honey exclaimed, with a voice that sounded like it was punctuated with a heart.

“Anyways you may go.” AK Yearling declared, and waved her off.

“Next we have my publisher, Giant Penguin.”

The name was certainly fitting. Giant Penguin stood a head taller than almost any other pony at the party. He was built like a brick wall and chiseled like a statue. He wore a tight three-piece suit, the tie an outrageous red. He looked down at every pony who passed by. After his introduction, he merely stared.

“Alright, that’s enough, please go do whatever.”

Giant Penguin, like the rest, returned to his position.

“Last, but not least, Fine Print?”

A jittery pegasus with bags under her eyes jolted up, flapping her wings and darting her eyes all around the mansion. Her wings flapped in a frightened, frighteningly consistent pattern. Her glasses constantly fell down her face, and were constantly readjusted in ever-more crooked ways.

“What? What?” She called, seemingly shocked from a stupor.

“I was just introducing this fine mare to my team,” AK Yearling said. She turned back to Twilight Velvet. “She’s my editor, she’s strung like laundry, but she’s good… most of the time. Anyways, Fine Print you can head back to your spot.”

Fine Print didn’t appear to want to move. But Twilight Velvet reckoned that it probably wasn’t her problem. She felt a little better knowing the ponies now, but she was still way over her head. She’d just have to enjoy the party with the few ponies she knew.

“Hey, Rainbow?” Twilight Velvet asked… “Read any good books lately?”

The two walked off discussing Daring Do.

About thirty minutes later, Twilight Velvet was back to her unimpressive little corner. She sipped punch, and stared at the guests of high honor. They talked about… who knew what rich ponies talked about? Equestrian taxes?

As if Celestia herself had heard Twilight Velvet’s boredom, a loud and sudden crash came from behind. A crash which Twilight Velvet immediately jumped at.

Twilight Velvet turned to face the raucous ruiner of the party, and saw what appeared to be three ponies in ski masks. In their hooves they held a burlap bag, which appeared to be stuffed to the brim with bits and bobs, but mostly bits.

Almost enticed by what felt like a trainwreck, she watched. The entire party seemed to gasp in utter horror. As the ponies skidded and barreled directly towards an enticed Twilight Velvet.

In one fell swoop, one of the ponies tore off their ski mask, and tossed it at Twilight Velvet right as the burlap bag came barreling towards her. On reflex, she caught it. She blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what exactly these ponies wanted her to do. She didn’t figure out who’d tossed the ski mask at her either.

Before she could even ponder what happened, a bright light beamed directly into her eyes, which she shielded, only to be faced with the chief of police, and the father of the victim of the recent poisoning case, Sargent Sentry. Father of Flash Sentry, and held in very high regard among the Canterlotite PD.

“Twilight Velvet, huh? Should’ve known. You’re coming with us. With the amount of cases you’ve been tied to…” Sargent Sentry clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Twilight Velvet could merely look blankly into the night as the light click of handcuffs reached her ears.

As she was being toted away, a curious AK Yearling looked at the entire scene before her.

“I need a zebra that will prove her innocence…” She mused. “Like Zed… she’s done it before…”

Author's Note

Message given to The Sleepless Beholder for Chapter 4:
The butler didn’t do it, Zed is Zecora, and Twilight Velvet is tied to a prior case involving the poisoning of Flash Sentry. AK will pay

EileenSaysHi during the live Discord Reading:

I NEED A ZEBRA
I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A ZEBRA TILL THE END OF THE NIGHT
SHE'S GOTTA BE STRONG
AND SHE'S GOTTA BE FAST AND SHE'S GOTTA BE FRESHLY RE-STRIPED

Chapter 6 — PseudoBob Delightus

Only when the bracelets went on did reality dawn on Twilight Velvet.

"No," she said, like as parent correcting child. "No, that - that's wrong."

The officer pulled her towards the carriage. "You'll be coming with me, miss."

"No!" She yanked back, and pointed at the damned butler. "It was Randolph! He saw the whole thing! He was there! He probably planted that bag, too! He's lying to you! To all of us!" For her trouble, she was shoved into the back of the carriage, reminding her of her yet-mending bruises, and buffeted by the door slamming behind her. "Ugh, ow."

Velvet soon realized Sergeant Sentry was already in the front of the carriage, which promptly shut her up. It wouldn't do to cry and whine about evil butlers around him. Not in normal circumstances, anyway, but certainly not now, with Flash on his mind.

The other officer got into the driver's seat and glanced back at her, still sprawled on the backseat bench. "This is more for your protection. If the real criminal is still out there, you'll be safe in the booking house. But, you know…" She looked at the Sergeant, and the Sergeant looked at her. "The rest, save it for the detectives."

With that, he started the carriage, and they made their way to the road.

Velvet gradually sat up and watched the scene disappear behind her. A couple ponies were setting cordons around the property, and another was taking photos of flagged evidence in the grass - maybe hoofprints, she couldn't tell. In amongst it all, between a maple tree and a fence pillar, she spotted Randolph looking back at her, watching her be taken away, with a smirk.

Of all the ponies, the damned butler!

Hie you down the country lane
To fields of dewdrop grass.
Playing there we two became
The cheeks of one's own -

Crass. And hardly evocative. Zecora turned, found the colder side of the pillow. And tried again. Silence and darkness for long moments, then….

Take me o'er the edge
Save me from my headge
Were you here then we'dge
Seal the 'ternal pledge

No. What? What in Tartarus did that even mean? And why rhyme everything with 'edge'? Such a constraining scheme. But that was beside the point. She found the cold-ish side of the pillow again and closed her eyes. If she couldn't be free of it, at least make it a good one, she thought…

I work with worst uncertainty
But keep on putting polish
Until you mirr'r me faithfully
Without a tinge of -

The phone rang, and Zecora leapt out of bed. Her head was still pounding. Her body still ached. And an unfinished scheme soured the air. That, at least, was a new one.

She reached over to the bedside table and snatched the hoofset. "Tarnish?"

The voice on the other end said, "Is - what?"

She cleared her throat. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Who is this? Why do you call?"

"Ah, Zecora. Sorry to disturb your meditation or whatever, but I figured you'd wanna know right away. We caught your canary."

"My canary? Speak regular-y."

The other voice suppressed a chuckle to speak in a grave tone. "It's Twilight Velvet. She's booked, Zed."

Only one word came to mind. "Again!?"

Voices echoing down the hall reminded Twilight Velvet where she was, which wasn't a pleasant reminder, but the distant familiarity of one of the voices was striking.

"... really always gotta make these rhyme, Zed?"

"Always? No, I can stop if I wish. But can you stop being a little b-"

"Zecora!" she cried, and ran up to the bars to get a look at that brilliant zebra. "Celestia, am I glad to see you."

Zecora nodded. "Velvet. Well met."

Velvet shrugged. "Eh. Given the circumstances, it's better than last time. What's going on?"

The officer stallion accompanying, and arguing with, Zecora explained, "I don't know how, but Zed here convinced the Sergeant to let you out of here again -"

"Not permanently. Provisionally."

"- yes, provisionally, on being able to prove your innocence. So, it's basically permanent. Right, Zed?"

Velvet raised an eyebrow at Zecora. "Zed?"

The zebra didn't even glance at the gregarious officer. "My name is not Zed. Something is wrong in this one's head. But… his summary of events is without much pretense."

The officer smiled and nodded. "That's her way of admitting I'm right."

Velvet said, "Okay."

A moment passed, with the three of them just standing around with a jailhouse door between them. Zecora cleared her throat meaningfully and gestured at the lock, whose keys the officer already had strapped to his belt.

"Oh! Right! Yeah, I guess I should let you out now. Away from the bars, don't hurt yourself…"

Velvet stepped away, and felt a wave of relief at hearing the ka-chunk of an unlocking cell door. Not quite as much as the last time, but the stakes were a little higher now, so it evened out.

Zecora led Velvet down the hall, which she was glad to say she hadn't memorized yet, as the officer continued to heckle 'Zed'. She wondered if there was a history there, but, all things considered, she was probably better off not knowing.

They were one step out the front door when Zecora's patience ran out. An appropriate place for it, really. "Now this is where we separate. If we never meet again, I'll ce-"

"Celebrate! Yeah, see, we're completing each other's sentences and shit! You know you love me."

"The only sentence you should complete is one in prison, with nothing to eat."

Velvet sucked air through her teeth. "Ooh. Harsh."

The stallion - she somehow hadn't caught his name yet - actually seemed hurt by that one. Of course, it was hard to tell. Zecora only made it a few steps from the building before he had that stupid smile on his face again.

"Hey Zed, how about just one more rhyme?"

She somehow responded, "That will have to wait for another time," with a tone that suggested there would never, ever be another time, if she had anything to say about it.

Still, Velvet couldn't help but laugh.

Author's Note

Message given to Dashie05 for Chapter 5:
They will come back to Yearling manor to solve the case. The butler didn't actually do it. Sgt's son Flash Sentry was poisoned or something, idk. AK will pay. Keep the samaras flying.

Chapter 7 — FanOfMostEverything

Stately Yearling Manor loomed in the night like Nightmare Moon’s own castle. Zecora couldn’t help but look at the moon, imagining the Mare on its surface glaring down with something almost like approval. The three-story residence somehow managed to keep hold of a lawn in the cramped confines of Canterlot, and the wrought iron fence and spike-topped gate didn’t make it any more welcoming. The compass rose worked into the latter’s design only made it feel pointier.

Of course, some of that frightful atmosphere came from the trembling unicorn at Zecora’s side.

She patted Twilight Velvet on the withers, making the young author bite back a yelp. “Calm yourself, my fretful friend. I’m sure this will not be your end.”

“Excuse me for being just a touch nervous when you barely convinced the police to let me out to prove my own innocence.” Velvet attempted a deep breathing exercise. Going by her twitching eyelid, it wasn’t doing much. “Which still feels ridiculous.”

“Helping clear my client’s name is part of the detective’s game. And laws that date back centuries still will help you prove your pleas. Sergeant Sentry knows full well that zero lies I’d dare to tell when I’m hot upon a case.” Zecora waved a foreleg towards Yearling Manor in a sweeping gesture. “So we have come to this place.”

Velvet nodded, at least looking like she wouldn’t gallop off the mountain at an unexpected noise. “With the anonymous insider informant you mentioned, right. Where are they, anyway?”

As if in response, hoofsteps approaching from the other side of the gate made both mares’ ears turn towards it. Far as they were from the magically shining streetlights, neither recognized the figure until he stopped less than a ponylength in front of them and bowed his purple-coated head. “Miss Velvet. Ms. Zecora.”

“You!?” cried Velvet.

Zecora merely nodded to the distinguished older earth stallion. “I thought the missive might be thine on stationery oh so fine.”

“One of the perks of the job,” said Randolph. His faint smirk collapsed into a much more pronounced frown. “Not that they’re enough for me to overlook Mistress Alluvial’s latest indiscretion. I can turn a blind eye to the upper crust eating itself, but not when they turn their attention to genuine innocents.” He nodded at Velvet as he unlocked and opened the gates. “My apologies for my earlier actions, Miss. ‘I was only following orders’ is no excuse at all, but it is all I can offer.”

Velvet shook her head as the two followed him inside. “Honestly, I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that the butler actually did it.”

That got a noncommittal hum as Randolph opened what seemed like a stretch of solid wall in the entry hall, leading them into the narrow and much more plain servants’ corridors. “That would depend on what you mean by ‘it,’ Miss. Letting you into the manor? Certainly. But I cannot assist with the actual procurement of the evidence.”

“Butler’s code of ethics?”

“No. Mistress Alluvial is the only one who knows the combination to the wall safe in her office. She won’t even let me dust in there.” Randolph gave a less than professional snort as they ascended a cramped staircase. “I’m going to Ponyville after this. I’ve heard excellent things about the Rich family. Real ‘up-and-comers,’ as the expression goes.”

Zecora nodded at that. “May you have a lovely time without abetting any crime.”

“Such is my hope, yes.” Randolph stopped by a door no different than any of the others they’d passed by. “Well, here we are.” He pushed it open, revealing a room with a mahogany desk, one wall covered by a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, and a conspicuous framed sea chart that all but screamed “Something’s behind me” to Zecora’s practiced eye.

Velvet took a step back, as much as she was able in the tight confines. “There aren’t any booby traps, are there?”

“There are not, no.” A hint of a grin crossed Randolph’s muzzle as he entered the office. “Mistress Alluvial has no wish to work around pressure plates and tripwires just to get a reference volume off the shelf.”

Zecora, likewise smiling, nudged Velvet with a shoulder as she followed him in. “The wild rumors aren’t true. Yearling isn’t Daring Do.”

The younger mare rolled her eyes as she came in herself. “I know, I know. Still riding some of the adrenaline rush from, you know, being in prison earlier this evening.”

Between the three of them, it was a simple matter to get the sea chart down and an imposing, black-iron safe revealed. “I am afraid I can offer no further guidance,” Randolph said, bowing his head. Zecora was already focused on the thirty-digit combination lock.

Now, supposing—

“It’s more than we could have done without you. Or getting arrested again. Zecora, any—”

She held up a hoof. “Silence, please, I need to think. The answer needs more than a blink.”

Given what she’d seen of Yearling, it could be as simple as—

“She does this sometimes.”

“I’m told all the best detectives do. At least she’s not the sort who keeps stumbling into murders.”

Zecora didn’t bother holding back a groan. “Tell me, you two, did I stutter? Silence does not mean you mutter.”

Velvet’s ears folded back. “Sorry!”

After a few moments of waiting, deeds proved the apology sincere. After a bit more deliberation, Zecora tried testing her theory, using the convenient crank built into the dial. One right, eleven left, twenty-five right…

Clunk

She grinned. “First shot. Jackpot.”

“How ever did you—”

The flush of victory had Zecora explaining her reasoning before Randolph could finish asking. “A few hints lay here and there, like the mechanism’s wear, but the safe was not the key. A. K. Yearling was, you see. Fame is what she’s always sought. Her initials, so I thought, would allow us through the door.” She backed away from the open safe. “Now, fair Velvet, raid the store.”

The unicorn’s horn lit as her magic rummaged through the contents. It was mostly paper, but in smaller bundles of stock certificates and publishing contracts. The exceptions came out: Threatening letters, legal settlements, novels in names that definitely weren’t A. K. Yearling. But she paused once she found one thicker sheaf. Velvet pulled it out, jaw dropping as she took in the front page. “My original manuscript! Dated and everything!”

“Something’s fluttered to the floor.” Zecora scooped up a bar napkin that had gotten dragged out of the safe along with the draft, her eyes widening as she took in the pencil scrawl on the back. “Implicating even more.”

“Huh?” Velvet gasped in recognition the moment she saw the napkin. “Unbelievable. She actually kept it.”

Randolph cleared his throat. “Ladies. While I hate to interrupt what is no doubt a truly shocking revelation, the Publisher’s Ball has concluded and the mistress will be returning home momentarily. I strongly recommend at least one of you make all due haste to the police station.”

“I’ll go,” said Velvet, stuffing her manuscript in one of her saddlebags even as her magic shut the safe and rehung the sea chart. Once more, Zecora marveled at the strength the mare refused to notice. “I can’t promise what I’d do to A. K. if I saw her right now.”

“I will stay to hold her back,” said Zecora, pulling a copy of The Coltbridge Book of Rhymes off the shelves and into her own saddlebags. It was the right size and weight to serve as a decoy if needed. The rest of the details of Yearling’s misdeeds went in the other. “Time to get there you’ll not lack.”

Randolph bowed his head and went back to the servant’s entrance. “I shall pack what few of my things remain unpacked. I imagine there will be much hullabaloo shortly, and it is a wise servant who knows when to make himself scarce.”

“Go. If I have any say, Yearling’s crimes will end this day.”

Author's Note

Message given to PseudoBob Delightus for Chapter 6:
Zecora cured Sgt. Sentry’s young son Flash. Randolph has been a thorn in the investigation’s side until now. Velvet’s criminal status is currently in a gray area. Justice is served.

Chapter 8 — EileenSaysHi

Once the noise of Twilight Velvet’s frantic galloping away had faded, it was quiet in the dark home office. Zecora had little choice but to merely wait, hoping that their timing was fortunate enough that her client wouldn’t have a run-in with the thief, or be recognized elsewhere.

Sergeant Sentry should be trustworthy, Zecora knew. After she’d provided a cure where the medical system had failed his young son Flash, the Sergeant had always been there to help make sure The Stripevate Eye could operate without police interference. A mention of her name should be more than enough to bring the force her way to make the appropriate arrest.

Of course, that still left the problem of holding down the fort long enough for them to arrive. And she could show up at any minute.

Zecora pawed her hoof at the floor, as though there was dirt there to dig up. A nervous habit. She scolded herself for the nerves, but at the same time, she knew there were plenty of bad ways things could go.

Still, assuming all had gone well for Velvet, the worst should have been averted… unless…

She trotted to the window and stared up at the Mare in the Moon, its dark reflected light cast upon the streets outside. The streetlights had come on, and yet Zecora knew all too well how easy it was to hide within shadow – she’d done it herself so many times, after all.

The detective’s ears perked up at the sound of a creaking door. It was distant – not the door to the office itself – but close enough that it must have been within the building. She is near, almost here!

There was no point in hiding. No spot would be effective, in any case. She might not be immediately noticed under the desk table, but she’d still be fully exposed if she was. Regardless, though, she wasn’t there to spy; she was there to confront, and importantly, to make sure the premises weren’t vacated prematurely. Her suspect would only be home for a matter of seconds to make the pickup, and Zecora would have no means of telling Velvet or Sentry where to follow if she had to pursue.

Turning away from the window, Zecora stood silhouetted. She glanced at the safe, securely closed, and then back toward the door. She realized with a start that she was now on the wrong side of the room from her saddlebags, and began to walk back around the desk towards them, but froze.

There was the sound of trotting in the hallway. Its pace was quickening, and it was growing louder, closer. Within a few moments, there was a shadow visible under the door, and the sound stopped.

The door opened, and for the moment, Zecora was concealed by the darkness that impeded the newcomer’s peripheral vision – at least, until a clap brought the lights on.

And there she was. A.K. Yearling. Same garish hat, appalling glasses, cloak, and all.

Zecora stood silently as the conspicuous saddlebags caught the mare’s attention, her voice losing all trace of the practiced affect she’d heard in their earlier conversation. “What in Celestia’s mane is–”

Her eyes found their way to Zecora. “GYAAAAAAAH!”

She stumbled back towards the shelves, and Zecora seized the chance to step between her and the doorway. “Miss Yearling, please, you must not fret. To cause you harm, my heart isn’t set.”

“Wha, gyuh…” The alleged earth pony blinked, then straightened up and reacquired her refined voice. “Ah, the private detective. Zeeborga, was it? I, um, must confess I am confused by your presence. The case is quite clearly closed, that thief Velvet is behind bars, and while I understand if there are some sort of procedural questions you need me to answer, I would appreciate you not breaking and entering into my house.”

Zecora’s eyes narrowed. “It seems as though you’ve mistaken my name, though I’m more concerned with your wicked game.”

Yearling cringed. “Excuse me, detective? I believe I made myself quite clear before, as has all the evidence the authorities have collected. Twilight Velvet used her publishing connections to secure my new romance manuscript and had arranged to have it sold as her own. I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but I assure you, I have no intent other than to see justice done.”

That elicited a snort. “Absurd to call it justice received, when it is you whose words have deceived. For I happen to know that you’re full’v it, as I was hired by Twilight Velvet.”

The author’s face darkened. “I see. Is this your way of asking for a bribe, Detective? Because I assure you, I have a lot more bits to spare than your, well, felonious client.”

Zecora watched as Yearling strode toward her desk, perhaps in the hope that the zebra would move along with her and expose the exit. If so, Zecora didn’t bite, holding in place. “No need to spare your excess bits, nor to make this a game of wits. What concerns me is naught but the truth, that you’ve falsely accused an upstart youth.”

Yearling made a sound akin to a hiss, and Zecora detected another lapse in her affect as she spoke. “How dare… who are you, to make such an insinuation of me, Miss Zegorga? You think this is some little Tracer Bullet potboiler? I can just as easily take you to court for defamation as well, to say nothing of how you forced your way into my home!”

The mare stamped her hooves on the floorboards, but Zecora wasn’t intimidated. It helped that it was far from the most intimidating of displays, given her appearance. The zebra did step forward slightly, however, though only far enough that she could still land a fearsome kick backwards toward the door had Yearling tried to make a break for it. The author seemed to understand that, and didn’t make any attempt.

“If I thought you could frighten me, I’d not have gone where you would be.” With that, Zecora nudged the first saddlebag, which toppled over, spilling out its contents for Yearling to see.

The pony scoffed. “And just what is it I’m supposed to be looking at?”

“The proof of your crimes, collected in full. I think you’ll find your excuses quite null.”

Yearling made a show of rolling her eyes, only to quickly bring them back to the items scattered on the ground. She seemed particularly startled when her eyes alighted upon the napkin.

She brought her gaze up to Zecora, expression draining from her face as, Zecora knew, the implications hit her. That Equestria might soon know that the great A.K. Yearling was a thief and plagiarist, and that Twilight Velvet was merely her latest victim.

“I am reminded,” Zecora declared, “thinking ‘pon your theft, of a children’s taunt that carries some heft. For it seems what they say is quite true; Velvet is rubber, and you are glue.”

Author's Note

Message given to FanOfMostEverything for Chapter 7:
Zecora emptied the safe and Velvet is running to bring the manuscript to the police (she makes it). Yearling isn't Daring Do. Zecora has The Coltbridge Book of Rhymes in her other bag as a decoy.

Chapter 9 — Silver Needle

The accusation hung in the air between them. At first, AK Yearling made no reaction, simply standing there, expression frozen. But then she smiled, a smile that was more chilling to Zecora than any outburst of anger.

“Well, when you put it as clearly as all that, I see no reason to deny it,” she said, voice suddenly quite unlike the one she had been using prior. It was more confident. More sinister. “I must say, I certainly wasn't expecting anyone to pick up all those loose ends that I didn't bother to tidy away, but you've done quite a nice job of it, Miss Zebra. And as you’ve so helpfully brought all of this evidence right to me, I don’t even need to worry about going after it myself.”

“And so the serpent sheds her skin. We see what truly lies within,” murmured the detective.

“Oh, would you stop it with the rhyming thing? You sound like a quirky side character in a penny novel.” Yearling wrinkled her muzzle in disgust. “Never could stand zebras. I shouldn't have been surprised that one was willing to scrape around in the dirt looking for clues. You must have felt right at home”

Zecora felt her face flush hot in anger. “And here I thought you could not stoop more low. This insult has let your true colours show.”

“Please. I can say whatever I like! I'm the most popular author this side of Manehatten! And I really don’t need to watch my mouth around a detective foolish enough to poke this deep into matters which don’t concern her. You’re not going to be spilling the beans to anypony any time soon.”

And suddenly there was a gun, levelled directly at her. A pegasus type Colt .45, held snugly by the flaxen feathers of a wing. Zecora froze, though she couldn’t help but feel a moment of satisfaction at the confirmation of her theory. Just as she’d suspected, the author wasn’t an earth pony.

“No one will question the sudden appearance of another body around these parts. They’ll just assume that you unwittingly stumbled into a gang fight or something. Tragic, but not suspicious. And it's not like there’s anypony who’ll come looking for you.” She smirked as Zecora’s eyes widened. “You’re not the only one who can do their homework, detective. I’ve looked into your background enough to know that no one will miss you when you’re gone.”

Keep her walking. Keep her talking. Zecora thought to herself. Any chance of survival - no, more importantly, any chance she had of proving Yearling’s guilt, proving that Twilight Velvet’s work had been ruthlessly stolen from her, all hinged on stalling the plagiarising author long enough for help to arrive. If help was arriving at all.

“Since you plan to snuff me out,” she began, desperately, “please satisfy my burning doubt,”
Why Twilight Velvet of all mares, why tangle her in your affairs?”

Yearling’s smile slipped. “That upstart? She just happened to be a convenient target. It wasn’t for any reason in particular.”

“But that can’t be believed. It was her work you thieved.”

“She threatened my position!” The wing holding the gun trembled for a second. Zecora could feel her own heart rate pick up, loud in the quiet of the night . “The world of literary business isn’t the place for sappy romance novels and their naive, hopeful authors. If she thought she could barge in with what little talent she had and go far on that, she was sorely mistaken. So I thought I’d… send a message, which happily coincided with pursuing my own goals.”

“And so you thought to shift the blame. Theft is theft, no matter the name.”

“Call it whatever you like. As far as the public is concerned, Twilight Velvet is an attention seeking liar, who’s too lazy to even write her own books. Even if she does manage to eventually write something else, the bad rep will be enough to ensure it doesn’t succeed. Meanwhile, I’ll remain safely as the number one author in Manehattan. And then, in a few years, once this has all died down, if I happen to publish a romance of my own bearing striking similarities to that claimed “missing” manuscript, no one will bat an eye. The only ones who will care are that fraud of an author, who’ll be ruined, and you, who’ll be dead. There’s nothing you can do. Neither of you have any evidence with which to stop me.”

Perhaps Zecora reacted to the mention of evidence, twitched or broke eye contact. Or perhaps AK Yearling suddenly doubted her own words, felt the need to reconsider. Whatever the reason, her eyes narrowed, and flicked across the room to the safe. Keeping the firearm levelled at the zebra, she slowly moved over to it, and began to spin the dial. Zecora held her breath as the safe door creaked open and the author looked inside.

“It’s empty.” Her voice grew in volume as she spun to face Zecora. “You… What have you done?! Where’s the manuscript?!”
Both of their gazes fell on her saddlebags at the same time. Zecora saw the shift in her eyes, the moment that she realised the zebra was now worth more to her dead than alive. She didn’t waste any time.

BANG! The gun went off a fraction of a second after she dived for cover. She felt the bullet cut through the air, a hair’s breadth from her coat as she skidded behind an ornate dresser.

“This situation’s looking dire,” She muttered, perhaps unwisely as a second shot sounded, and shattered the glass of the cabinet above her. She cursed, and began to awkwardly crawl along the floor towards a window. “You’d go so far for your desire?”

“There’s not much I wouldn’t do,” came the answering hiss, much closer than Zecora had anticipated. She rolled instinctively, ending up under the cover of a desk table just as the floorboard behind her exploded in a shower of splinters. “Reputation is everything. Worth more than the lives of a couple of gutter dwellers like you or Velvet. I’d make the exchange a thousand times.”

The window still tempted her. Zecora judged the distance between her current position and the only possible escape route. It might just be possible, she thought. Desperately she lunged out from beneath the table.

A fourth shot rang out. This one didn’t miss. Zecora yelled in pain, as she collapsed against the wall, clutching the back of her hoof. It wasn’t a serious wound, barely even clipping her, but it had been enough to make her stumble. And that was enough.

“Finally. You’ve stopped crawling around like a rat on the floor.” The saddlebag was snatched from her before she could react, Yearling holding her prize triumphantly aloft. “I must say, you almost had me worried for a moment there. To think, you got all the way into my own house, found my office, even managed to break into my safe. And all for nothing. No wonder I do so well in this city. Everypony else is utterly incompetent.”

Zecora groaned as she pulled herself up. She didn’t trust herself to speak. The author still held the gun, but her attention was on the bag as she began to undo its buckles.

“This is the second time I’ve taken this manuscript from someone,” she chuckled. “I think that makes me its rightful owner, don’t you? And despite its very low quality content, I’m rather glad to have it in my hooves again…”

AK Yearling tailed off as she pulled out the object which had been nestled in the saddlebags. A large sheaf of papers no doubt, but bound officially in hardback cloth rather than the rough, looping string of a first draft manuscript. The title was stamped into the cover clearly, and shone slightly as the lamplight caught it. “The Coltbridge book of Rhymes.”

“The manuscript of which you speak,” Zecora said, quietly, “Is in a place you cannot seek. Miss Velvet carried it to the station. Evidence enough, for your damnation.” She could only hope that it was true, and that the unicorn had got that far.

“That’s… Impossible.” Yearling breathed. The book tumbled from her hooves. “I… I can’t lose. Not like this. Surely…”

“Your time is up, your story at its end. And with your own fate you must now contend.”

The pegasus stared at her. “You… you’re still rhyming? Through all of this? Mocking me?” She levelled the gun at Zecora, who was too tired to even flinch. “Everything went wrong. All because of you. You’ve been messing with everything from the start. If I can just remove you-!”

“No!”

It was a new voice that called out, desperate and furious. Both zebra and pegasus turned just in time to glimpse Twilight Velvet as she charged across the room, colliding with AK Yearling in a blur of lilac and grey. The gun was sent spinning through the air, and the pegasus was sent sprawling across the floor, before being pinned down by a fierce field of magic.

Zecora struggled to find words, and rhymes. “Miss Velvet, your presence, I don’t understand. Was the book delivered, as we had planned?”

“Only just.” Her client was breathing heavily, evidently exhausted. “I spoke to Sergeant Sentry just as you said. The police are on their way now- I just couldn’t wait at the station.”

Sure enough, Zecora could hear distant sirens growing louder. She got to her hooves, and gave a sigh of relief.

At long last, this case was coming to a close.

Author's Note

Message given to EileenSaysHi for Chapter 8:
Noir mystery AU. Twilight Velvet's work was stolen by AK yearling. Zecora is private detective hired by TV. Ends with case closed, AK going to jail. Suggested that AK has stolen work before.

Chapter 10 — Rego

Another exhausting case finally put to bed. Zecora shut the door to her office and collapsed into her desk chair. She stirred her desk cauldron, throwing in a few dried petals of various Farasian flowers along with some soothing lavender. Lighting the concoction aflame, the room filled with familiar smells that whisked her far away from the high rises of Manehattan. The temptation to add a few stronger weeds certainly was there, but she didn’t need to dull her senses before getting back to her apartment. The lone zebra closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting the nostalgic aroma fill her lungs.

“Precious flowers, whose pollen roams,
Bless you for bringing me back home.”

“And thank you for helping me today, Miss Zecora.” Twilight Velvet called from across the room.

Zecora heard the door click close as hooves clacked across the hardwood. It was a little unexpected to hear the author add herself to the stillness, but her inclusion wasn’t unwelcome. She cracked an eye open and leaned back from her desk.

“After all that happened, I’m glad you are well,
I suspect they’ve carted Yearling to jail?”

“Yes. And it should be hard for her to wiggle herself out with all the evidence you found.” Velvet sighed and rubbed her foreleg. “I still can’t believe it. Daring Do would always be more popular than my silly, little romance novels—”

“You sell yourself short, my humble unicorn friend,
It was your resurging career she tried to upend.
If your words were meager, then no threat would they pose,
That she tried to steal them means their quality shows.”

Velvet giggled politely from the unexpected compliment. “Thanks, Miss Zecora. But still, it doesn’t seem real to me, even after you got my manuscript back from her. AK Yearling is one of the most famous writers in the world. What do you think possessed her to do it?”

“The drastic methods she employed, both exacting and cruel,
Suggest this was less an exception, and more of the rule.”

“I’m inclined to agree, unfortunately. Everything had been so carefully laid out from the moment I arrived. I would’ve never suspected she was behind it all.” Velvet shook her head. “That doesn’t answer my question though. Her Daring Do stories are loved by everypony. My children read every new release. Heck, I do too! Why would she bother with somepony as small as me in a completely different genre?”

“One can always maintain a lofty position,
By wiping away all of their competition.
Perhaps she was worried that she’d fail to keep pace,
If the public could sample a far different taste.

“Despite the series’ popularity,
I find her tales lack moral clarity.
If I met such a mare, she’d best say a prayer,
I’d no sooner clobber that filthy graverobber!”
Zecora swore bitterly as she eyed her trusty staff.

Velvet blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about it.”

“Daring Do always makes a crucial mistake,
when assuming old treasures are hers to take.
Ancient places she finds when traipsing around,
Are often old and sacred burial grounds.
Seeing Daring’s methods, I am not that surprised,
To find Yearling’s morals are also compromised.”

Twilight Velvet looked down as she considered the notion. “I never thought that deeply about it. They were just fun tales of adventure and discovery to me.”

“Equestria’s mastery of earth, sky, and arcane,
Easily blinds you to nature’s enduring domain.
Others exist beyond your nation’s borders,
Built upon eons of wilder order.

“Those far-flung places, old and neglected,
Bear their own tales that should be respected.
Your princess has beared witness to thousands of years,
But to our world’s vision, Time itself disappears.”

“Talking to you feels so enlightening sometimes.” Velvet giggled to herself. “My goodness, a private eye, a medicine mare, and a philosopher? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Zecora laughed and looked up at her lethargic, old ceiling fan, spinning and swiveling just enough to disperse her concoction’s calming smoke throughout the room.

“A glaring hazard of my occupation:
I struggle greatly to maintain relations.
When you make foes as strong as mine,
My list of friends quickly declines.”

“Oh.” The pony cleared her throat, trying to think of something better to say, but the wordsmith’s mouth ran dry. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Zecora chuckled to herself.
“Don’t worry yourself. I’ve always known.
My line of work is best done alone.
This is what I have chosen: a life fraught with danger.
It’s no wonder I can't catch the eye of a stranger.”

Twilight Velvet frowned. “I disagree, Miss Zecora. There aren’t many ponies I know that would stick their necks out for me like you did. Even when nopony else believed me, one wonderful, admirable zebra did. You may put on your hard-boiled exterior, but I can see the tender heart hiding just behind your lovely stripes.”

Zecora pulled her fedora over her muzzle to hide the smile growing on her face.
“Careful, Miss Velvet, with such a bold confession.
You wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression.”

She tried to ignore the trotting hooves clip-clopping on the wood towards her desk. It became more difficult when the unicorn’s magical aura pulled her trust hat away from her.

“I know what I said.” Velvet bent down, placing a chaste kiss on the zebra’s cheek. Though it was quick and fleeting, it carried a tenderness filled with gratitude and kinship. She smiled softly with maternal warmth and welcome. “I appreciate everything you did for me, Zecora. Truly. If you ever get lonely, you’ll always have a friend in Canterlot. There’s always room for one more at our family table. I’m sure they’d love to meet the mare who saved my comeback, especially my little Sparkle.”

With the parting gesture, Twilight Velvet saw herself out of the office, but not before scribbling her address on the back of her business card: 8471 Windy Way. The door clicked close behind the mare, leaving Zecora alone again. She took the card in hoof and looked out the window to the skyline stretching before her.

Another sleepless moon shone upon Manehattan, its pale light casting the city in shades of gray. White and black bled together, muddling their striations beyond recognition, and leaving any sense of justice lost in the blur. One wandering zebra had taken it upon herself to see through the mess, to pull it apart and expose the underlying rot that so many had grown too accustomed.

It was why she’d opened the Striped Solution. The potion-making private eye Zecora, brewing concoctions and breaking cases, one stripe at a time. There was still a lot more work to do in Manehattan as always, and never enough time to do it. However, as she watched the happy mother trot down the sidewalk to finally relax after her harrowing experience, perhaps all of that could wait.

“Forgive me, Manehattan, for leaving my station,
But I think I am due a little vacation.”

Author's Note

Message given to Silver Needle for Chapter 9:
A noir mystery starring an AU Zecora living in Manehattan.
Search Rhymezone Dictionary and how to write couplets.
Use the hint space to tell important details about my chapter to the next writer.