"Beginning tape now." A female voice spoke, opening the recording tape and video camera in an interrogation room; a mare with brown eyes coat and main with her was a human male detective in his seat next to hers, staring at the female Detective, who was setting up the recorder and camera.
"Is it on and rolling?" The Male detective asks, a voice rough and cold with aggitation as he stares across a steel table from him at another human man; on the table is a damaged, bloodied rubber unicorn mask and the hand grip of a broken baseball bat.
His back leaned against his chair, his wrist handcuffed with dried, bloodied bandaged hands holding up one finger before reaching into his jacket to pull out a lighter and a cigarette box, grabbing one into his mouth and lit it, breathing in slowly before breathing out a breath of smoke at the two detectives as they stare at him, his head shaven and with bruises and cuts littered his face with dried blood smears and a line from his nose with one of his eyes bruised closed. He seemed to be relaxing back with the gaze of disbelief and bewilderment from the human male and pony mare detectives.
"Who the hell even are you?" The male Detective asked with his brow flared at the beaten, blooded man across from him. They were watching him take a hit before huffing out and tapping his cigarette beside him as he made eye contact with both detectives.
"First name: Mr. Last name: U," He spoke, his voice a bitter and patchy grumble as if it were soaked in nothing years of bourbon, stored in a smokehouse, and ran over then doused in gasoline after being set on fire.
"And here is what's going to happen." He said, letting out a huff of smoke and pointing at the male Detective with blood-stained fingers and his cigarette between them. "You will be called out of this room by phone call for you, and when you return. You will tell her to undo my cuffs, and I walk out of here as if nothing ever happened." Mr. U said to them as they both looked at each other for a moment and returned their gaze to him.
"You are in no reason to make such statements, and no, we are not obligated to follow, let alone make such accusations, "Mr.U said. So, to get this over with, let's start at the beginning." The Mare spoke, grabbing a pencil in her mouth and a notebook in her hooves. Flipping to a blank page, she began writing on it with the male Detective leaning forward.
"You came all this way from New Manehattan to Miami; police reports said you were found with this broken baseball bat with screws and nails in it beating a man to death with both griffins and Russian mobsters all dead around, littering the halls and rooms along with burning an entire drug lab with the ally assistance." He says, his eyes squinting, his hand clenching into a fist as he presses onto Mr. U, unfazed by the stare, let alone the pressure the Male Detective was applying.
"Why?" He asked with the sounds of the Mare scribbling down every question and word-for-word response as Mr. U placed his cigarette between his lips and let it rest there as he slowly took a breath. He only allowed a slight smirk to curl up on his lips and huff out a momentary chuckle of smoke.
"Well, for that, we will have to start at the beginning of it all. This isn't the first time, and I'm sure you're aware of my trail now, so I might as well tell you how it started.
19:45 pm . March 6th, 1989.
USA - New Manehattan.
The year is 1989. The War between the United States of America and the Soviet Union continued. After the war, the Soviet Union spread east to the Hawaiian Islands, aided by Griffionia forces. They were forcing the use of Nuclear bombing on Los Angeles and San Francisco during the loss of Hawaii under Soviet control, leading to an influx of Russians and Griffins alike entering US borders. Stretching the war beyond US territory as newly established Russian and Griffin mafia, gangs, and criminal organizations to from within US states with Pony and US citizens upset by the influx of Griffin and Russians began forming Anti-Griffin-Russian sentiments and newly formed patriotic organizations were created to establish new resistance against both Russian and Griffin influence of both the war effort and the criminal growth with only one name given by the head of both the Russian and Griffin mafia empires. "The God-Father."
One organization under the US patriot resistance, "Fifty Blessings," formed after taking in volunteer workers, donations, and medical first responders' assistance. It set foot with a hidden group created under its shadows, giving only one name; "Manimals."
No one knew who Its pack leader was, let alone where they were or even if they had a place to call home, but what people did know was that they were nothing more than brutal and efficient against Griffins and Russians. Both humans and ponies alike, hell, and even a few other creatures joined them, all tasked with going to a hit and leaving either alive or dead. Every member under "Manimal" had no uniform, badge, tattoo, or title. Only a mask that fits us all, and if we die, it will be replaced or taken back to a new replacement. We didn't bother knowing who we were under them, for we only knew one thing: kill everything alive and get out.
It was their Mr. U arrived at his first gig. He didn't know what to do or why he was there, but he was only told to be there for a "special package delivery" after a knock on his patio door with only a box with only a letter directed to the name he was given and his mask, a white unicorn mask with a light sky blue mane and black eyes; with a disgusting odder of a coppery scent and red dried stains of blood all around the brim of the mask of scrubbed off fingerprints with a faint hint of bleach.
Yet Mr. U knew what it was; the place he went to was just a local bar, "Pito's Berry Stand" was the name of it; outside, he only saw the red flap of both three yellow stars, a sickle, and a wigged spear flying. Through the glass windows, He could see both Griffins and Russians alike, seeing some Griffins in grey and gold Jumpsuits and Russians in Red and black suits. He knew they were part of the mafia and gangs forming around America. His hands tightened and curled into fists, only to let out a sigh, taking only a single step to the bar's front door; he knew he needed to be quick. This bar wasn't far from his place. Entering the front door, he got the attention of all the griffins and Russians eyes, counting ten Russian men, four Griffins, and one stranger he didn't see, hidden in the booth seat.
<"Oah, little freak, it is not yet Halloween yet."> one of the Russians said, smacking the arms of his other two friends as they chuckled, laughing at Mr. U, unaware that he had only moved his arms to lock the front door of the bar and flipped the hanging open sign to close.
Police arrived at Pito's Berry Stand, getting reports of a bar fight getting out of the head from outside. Detective Smoke Buster, a Unicorn police officer, arrived with his partner, Detective Rubin Smith. When they arrived at the crime scene, the whole street was closed and crowed around, flashing cameras for both news reporters and civilians seeing the sight of a bar, shattered windows, and bodies from within scatted and mangled; their approach led them to the police squad leader forming and directing his squad, forming a blockade around the scene and helping investigators taking photos and setting up both the bodies, buildings and crime scene within as Detectives Smoke and Rubin entered the bar. They were greeted with a blood bath, bodies of both human and griffin scatted around, all of them shown brute beatings with broken limbs and broken glass, with some even having either broken glass laced into their bodies or pieces of broken bottles stabbed into them, one hanging by the neck by a ceiling fan by what looked like to be a power cord.
"Celestia Bucking Tartarus." Smoke said, looking away for a moment, recoiling and holding back the urge to fall into nausea while Rubin only knelt over a corpse, both their arms broken by the elbow, their Adam's apple and their left leg chopped up, with a meat cleaver stabbed into the bar counter and a severed leg resting on it and a pour of blood trailing down the counter to the floor.
"You can say that again Smoke." Rubin said, his eyes studying the corpse, seeing the injuries, bruises, lacerations, broken bones, torn to severed limbs, all being primarily from beatings from hand to hand or blunt weapons and objects to knives and shattered glass. "Place is trashed."
It practically showed the story playing out on what happened. Fifteen bodies, bloodied and battered, withering in mixed pools of blood, with only bloodied footprints showing what the main culprit leaving the scene. Both Detectives only glazed the scene and examined both human and griffin bodies, faces and bodies bruised, noses, jaws, beaks, legs, arms, claws, hands, nearly every limb broken, some to near unrecognition and others just laid out like liter on the road.
"Do you think it's another gang again or something else, Smoke?" Detective Rubin asks, examining the suits of the griffins and the humans, their Russians, and some with gang and old mafia tattoos.
"No, this wasn't a group effort. This was done by someone alone, look around no bullet shells and more gore than a psychos dream." Smoke said, seeing the shattered glass littering the floor and a pair of bloodied brass knuckles. "This was done by someone alone, and with an obvious agenda or a hard grudge against these folks."
Smoke proclaimed as Rubin only stood up and his eyes fixated on a lone body on the back of the bar; his eyes pressed in with his stomach sliced open from his sides with his intestines pouring out the panic still set on his face, and his hand held both his innards and stomach showing an attempt to stop them from pouring with only the weapon being a large kitchen knife lodged in his throat with only a small folded piece of paper placed in his mouth. Both detectives approached the body with Smoke using his magic, grabbing the paper, seeing stains of blood on it as he held it in the air for both of them to see. He unfolded it and saw what looked to be a symbol of the letter 'M' with three lines scratched across it, with another letter being 'A' in red and black with only one name over the symbol and a sentence under it.
"Manimals - Waiting for the next hunt."
"It appears that it's more than just the usual gangs and mafia problem that is coming to light. Within this darkness growing over the US." Smoke said as Rubin pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket and held it open. Smoke hovered the note into it for evidence and the source of what would be the beginning of a long and messy case for them to figure out and close.
The typical gangs are usually small and do things in groups; the Mafia families are similar but cleaner, efficient, and quick. this butchery was purposely sloppy, but even with fifteen bodies resisting, show clear signs that whoever killed the Griffins and Russians had fun doing it and took their time with all of them.
"I fucking hate it when you talk like that Smoke, I hope you know that." Rubin said, looking at Smoke, annoyed by his choice of words but knowing he was right.
Author's Note
Want to play a game? Try to count any Author Bloops you find or see in this story. If ya do so you'll get... actually scratch that idea, you wouldn't play anyway.
Your just here to read and move on like everyone else.
Leave a comment, a thought, some lore, or even just something about MLP or Hotline Miami, and be sure to leave a like and favorite the story if you'd enjoyed it.
Peaceā
