Regular

by Kira

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Tragedy, Discord, Princess Celestia, Main 6, Diamond Dogs, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3883

Regular, a gifted detective, finds himself in a world filled with ponies after his untimely death.

When Regular, a gifted detective, is killed alongside a syndicate and a revolution leader in a desperate attempt to rid the world of him, he finds himself in Equestria. He is a human among ponies. All is not well, however- Celestia needs his help to solve the case of a lifetime, a case that could possibly kill or save every last one of the ponies in Equestria. The situation is anything but regular.

Published 2013-01-06 20:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-06 20:10:02 UTC

Prologue- The Falling of a Pharaoh

Regular

A Kira story

A heavy silence was pressing down on the CIA agents in the board room. The devastating news that the only good lead the CIA had was false had just been told to the twelve agents on the case. The team had no chance of catching El Faraón, as he was known on the streets. The name meant, in Spanish, 'The Pharaoh'. It suited the anonymous murderer and drug dealer very well- he was at the top of the food chain for all of the markets he was in, both illegal and legal. The Justice League, at team of the best CIA agents (named after the superhero squad) was determined to catch this man without outside help. However, the last well they had for use had just ran dry. They needed help, and only one man would suffice.

Also an anonymous man, Regular was a detective that went by that alias across the globe. He was the best detective the USA had to offer, but they didn't really have him to offer. He refused to work for them and only worked cases he chose. He wouldn't even speak directly with the high authorities, only through a computer. There was only one computer in existence that could connect to Regular, and it was owned and watched over by Rory Ortega, on of the CIA that happened to be on the League. Ortega was the one that handled contacting Regular, but even he had never seen the man face to face. He had only spoken over the phone and by a video chat with Regular. The video chat was Regular's main choice of communication with the CIA and other agencies that asked for his help. He always wore a mask, however, as well as using a sound modifier.

The SynthVoiceRemix, or SVR, was a unique real-time audio editor that Regular invented. Only he could use it, as only he had possession of it. Regular also had a seemingly impenetrable firewall on all of his communications, so tracking wasn't an option. The governments of the world had simply accepted this and got his help when they could. It wasn't often they could, though- Regular only worked cases he was personally interested in.

This case happened to be one of those. As Regular sat at his desk watching the men through his hacked surveillance camera and waiting for the call to come in (as he had known that the lead was a dead end), he began to do some basic deductions about El Faraón. He was obviously Hispanic, as he appealed to the Hispanic crowds in his 'speeches'. His speeches followed Regular's style of videos, such as wearing a mask (his mask was of Barack Obama), but he didn't use a voice modulator. His accent was obvious and genuine. As well, he was based on the West Coast of the United States of America- most of his business was there, as well as all of the leads that got somewhere were from that area.

Regular pondered about this and then glanced over at the mirror. He rarely looked at himself, and when he did it was like looking at a total stranger. He had puffy white hair, even though he was only in his mid-twenties, and sideburns. He was proud of those sideburns. He wore today a red sweater, a teal vest, and a pair of yellow pants. He was hideously colorful. He never wore shoes, as he considered them 'immoral', and he always had on three accessories- His hands were always bandaged from building and fiddling with things, he always had on a white wristwatch, and he always carried his journal. It wasn't a journal like most have, in a diary format, but rather, a place for him to scribble down clues and ideas, as well as work thing out on paper. It was a very old tome, around two hundred years old, and still was in perfect condition. He had only managed to afford it with his huge amount of money.

Regular wasn't born rich, but neither was he born poor. He was, however, born very intelligent. He got a fast-food job and invested, starting at the age of fifteen. Every stock and every business he invested in got rich. He started to become well known, and some even believed that he was the one that caused the businesses to thrive. This was nonsense, of course. He was simply very picky about which businesses he invested in at first, and then the fame ensured the success of the businesses

After making a plethora of money, he secluded himself form the world. he bought a penthouse apartment on the tallest complex he could find and settled down. He still had nothing to do, so he purchased a computer. He visited site after agonizingly incompetent site until he came across a government site centering around unsolved criminal cases. He looked at the first case and was instantly intrigued. There were ten suspects, but the FBI couldn't seem to figure out which suspect was guilty. They had all the info on the site, with a few clues exempt that revealed too personal info. even with the missing pieces, however, Regular managed to solve it. he sat at his computer for three days simply staring at the people and the clues and then he figured it out. The fourth suspect, Jerry Altman, was guilty. As he figured it out, his eyes lit up and he felt an exhilarating feeling inside him.

Regular called in to the official tip-line (from a phone booth, of course) and revealed all he had figured out. The phone operator was in awe and had him wait while he fetched the Director of the task force in charge of the case. The task force Director was in utter disbelief and rudely rejected Regular, saying that any investigating would be done by the official investigators. Regular simply apologized and hung up with a polite "Good day to you, sir." In the one week thereafter, Regular hired a butler. The butler's name was, well, Butler. Michael Butler, to be precise. Regular felt that it was derogatory to call him 'Butler' (last name or not), so he created the name 'Amicus' after a few months of having Butler work for him. Butler gladly accepted it, despising having been ridiculed about his last name by his previous employers. Little did he know that Regular created the name out the Latin word for 'Friend', a this man was the first friend that Regular had ever had.

It was true, Regular had gone through high school with no friends. This was partly due to being owned by an orphanage and partly due to the fact that he was just odd. He never wore shoes, even to school, which was a huge factor in it. Even the people that got around that, though, didn't quite get around his unusual habit of always having a bow tie on. He always had one on, even if he was just wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Beyond that was his obsession with food. He would always have food, and yet always have a slim figure. It was odd, but he just put it off as high metabolism. Others, however, would put it off as some sort of weird surgery of handicap. All of this and his secluded personality made other students, and people in general, tend to avoid him, similar to a large school of fish swimming around a hand in a fish tank.

He did excel in all of his classes, though, and none more so than in the classes of Business & Financing and the other class set of IT. He got a perfect 4.0 GPA in everything, but left all of the college scouters in awe when he didn't apply for any colleges. That was the point where he purchased the apartment, so he really went out with a metaphorical bang. He was perfect at everything in school and then was never seen from again. At least, not by his real name of Atticus Narc. He was quite the curiosity.

As these thoughts flowed through the large and epic mind of Regular (who had began to think of himself by that name and not by his true identity), the call came in to him on his computer. He sighed and grabbed the mask from a hook on the wall. The mask was the same every conference- it was a simple dramatic play mask, then white one with the frown. the microphone was hidden on the inside of the mouth, so the sound quality was still great. the eyes and mouth weren't holes, but instead were essentially a one-way black shroud. The others saw simply black cloth while Regular saw through in perfectly fine. It was a simple Halloween costume trick, but it suited the situation very well.

He accepted the call, but kept his camera off. Once Ortega had the camera on the other end turned on and adjusted, Regular turned his on. It needed no adjusting. Nothing ever did, really, in Regular's apartment.

"Hello, Regular." Ortega said. "I assume you know already why I'm calling."

"I do indeed, Mr. Ortega." Regular said simply, nodding. "Actually, I was waiting for you to realize that the lead was false. "

"Hold on, you were waiting for us?" One of the agents said jokingly. "What, do you have camera taps or something?"

"Yes." Regular said simply. All of the agents got quiet, except Ortega. He was laughing. Ortega had known about the taps for weeks, but for the rest this was news to them. Most of them hadn't even worked with Regular before, so it was awkward for them to hear him admit to something so huge in a nonchalant way.

"So, what now? What are we going to do from here?" Another agent asked.

"Well, I was thinking that we could share whatever conclusions we've come up with." Regular said. "Then, after we have the same data, we could collaborate and try to figure out who El Faraón is."

"Well, then, you've already got our data." Said the first agent who spoke about the cameras. "By that I mean we've got zip. Nothing. Nada."

"I see." Regular said nodding. "Well, that is a problem. Luckily for you I have a few conclusions of my own."

"Really?" Said an Asian agent. "I doubt you could figure out anything we couldn't."

"I see you don't know much of my work." Regular replied. "Well, try not to get a swelled head. It hurts pretty bad when it deflates."

"Swelled head? I-"

"Cool it, Gary." Ortega said sternly. "He's a freakin' genius. Let him do his work."

Gary continued on grumbling quietly about "Working for his position" and "Idiot in a mask", but Regular didn't care. He'd heard it all before.

"Right. I've done research on the wealthiest people on the West Coast, where El Faraón is located, and narrowed it down to seven different people. They are the richest Hispanics there are on the coast, both illegally and legally. Regular said, getting into what he thought of as his 'investigator mode'. "From there, we have to investigate all of the people directly. All we really need to do is get a voice match from him to his video. Not hard at all."

"Well, that's fine and dandy, but just who are these guys?" said an agent in the back.

"Johnson! Show some respect!" Ortega said.

"No, I'm glad he asked." Regular said. "I'll put the list up on the screen as well as faxing it to you. It has everything you need to know."

"Thanks, I suppose." Said Johnson.

Regular, true to his word, posted the list on the screen, and shortly thereafter the fax printed out. The team read over it until Ortega finally spoke up.

"There's only six people on the list. You said there were seven."

"Actually, I said there were seven suspects. I'll be investigating one of them myself. I believe he has the highest chance of being guilty."

"Just try not to die, alright?" Ortega said. "You really are an asset to the forces."

"No promises, Mr. Ortega." Regular said solemnly. "No promises."

Regular cut off the feed and looked at the unsent list he had. The one name that was different on it was Juan Carlos, a stereotypical Hispanic name. This was the man that Regular was investigating. Luckily for him, he was already in the general area of Juan. A short flight to Utah was all that stood between him and Juan Carlos's house. It wasn't as simple as that, however- he had to plan it out and decide what he was going to do to follow him and learn about him. A simple voice match actually wouldn't be enough. He had to find both the mask and see him make a speech. the next one was planned for in six day and eleven hours on the dot, as Regular calculated.

Regular got his passport and a handful of random clothes and shoved them into a briefcase. He always brought his passport, even when he was travelling withing the country. you never knew when things would turn sour. He also brought his tome, mask, and laptop. It was always good to prepare for a meeting as well.

"Amicus! Prepare the car. We're going to the nearest airport." Regular called to his butler.

"Of course, sir." Amicus said, walking into the room. "Now, which car will we be taking?"

"The fastest one we've got." Regular said without a moment's hesitation.

XXXXXX

XXXXXX

When Regular wanted to go somewhere, he did it fast. Although the speed limit was a mere 60 miles per hour for the entirety of the one-hour car trip, Amicus drove at an average of 120. It would be thrilling and stressful to the normal man, but Regular wasn't the normal man, and or was Amicus the normal driver. Amicus had been a butler ever since he retired for the American Marine Corp, and before that he participated frequently in illegal street races. These thing are what influenced Regular to hire him. All of his past was showing currently as he drove at breakneck speeds without the slightest hint at even regret for going so fast. There were cars swerving away from him and police too shocked at the gall of this man to get started on the chase before it was too late. And even if they did get pulled over or arrested, Regular had an official CIA badge he had gotten from Ortega. He could just wave it at them and they would step off and leave him be.

The far away airport was a rather short ride, so Regular didn't bother getting settled into the car. He sat up straight, his legs crossed in what some children call 'crisscross applesauce', or the more racist 'Indian style'. He always sat like that. it was more comfortable and it helped him focus better. even in his leisure time he sat like that and browsed the internet. He sat like that on the toilet, while sleeping, always. He only stopped sitting like that to walk.

As they passed ahead of everyone in line o get their, tickets, a few guards came at them. Again the badges came in very handy. Amicus flashed them and the guards backed off easier than the police. Regular wasn't disturbed by the situation the entire time.He calmly purchased the two first class, one way tickets using and automated ticket teller and the pair went off towards their designated landing bay. The flight was in half an hour, so Regular simply sat on the floor in front of the security check. There were plenty of chairs, but there were people over there. Regular tended to drift away from people. Amicus left and returned shortly carrying a salad for him and a large pile of sweet for regular. Regular, a content look in his big, black eyes, ate everything and savored every bit. When he got to the oatmeal cookies, however, he simply threw them in the general direction of a trash can. The rest was a deliberate process. He treated eat bit of food with respect and dignity... and then savagely ate it.

As the time passed, Regular opened his tome and reviewed all of his past cases. There were hundreds of pages filled with records and details about suspects and clues. There was even the odd sketch of a pastry. The detail of both the information and the food drawings were impeccable. It was sensible, though, as the book was dedicated to the two things he loved. Eventually, he asked to stand by the security officer in charge of scanning carry-ons.

"I need your shoes, jackets, and any carry-on bags. All change, metal, and electronics go in the plastic tubs and on the conveyor belt." The guard said tiredly. He was making it obvious to the world that he despised his job. Nevertheless, Regular took off his vest-jacket and put it on the conveyor belt. He also gave his briefcase to the guard. The guard stared at him as if waiting for something.

"Is there a problem?" Regular asked.

"You didn't put your shoes up on the belt. You have to put your shoes up on the belt." The guard said to him as if he was explaining it to a toddler.

"You're terrible at your job." Regular said. "If you were any sort of 'security' you would have noticed that I'm not wearing any shoes. If I wasn't in a hurry I would file an official complaint."

The guard was taken aback by Regular's forthcoming attitude and just waved him and his luggage through.Amicus had much less of an issue. He had shoes to take off, and he did so. His entire ensemble was approved and the pair wet to the ticket- checker. They passed through the rest with ease, being the first in line. As they boarded the plane, the door shut behind them.

"Hey, fellas!" A male flight attendant greeted them. "You guys ready for the BEST DAMNED FLIGHT YOU'VE EVER HAD?!"

"Where are the rest of the passengers going to go?" Regular asked, maintaining his composure.

"There was a mix-up in the system, so we were legally on allowed to board three passengers." the attendant explained, slightly dejected at Regular's lack of twenty-year-old party-goer attitude. "We decided to board you two instead of adding one more. Now, are we gonna have fun, or what?!"

"Amicus, entertain the man. I was to sit in the aisle and think." regular said.

"Right away, sir." Amicus said. Although he was reaching his forties, Amicus knew how to party. He was a professional, so it was hard to tell, but he could get excited and worked up when he wanted to. He went off to join the attendant in his drinking and joking, both men genuinely having a good time. Regular was also having a good time, but in his own way. He sat in the exact center of the plane and meditated on his plans. He wasn't given much time to think after the takeoff, though, before a voice came over the intercom.

"Hello passengers. I'm going to be your pilot today, and I may or may not crash this plan on purpose." the man said jokingly. Regular's eyes snapped open. That voice was the voice of El Faraón.

Don't jump to conclusions. think and maintain your thoughts. Regular thought to himself. He stood and walked towards the cockpit. Amicus, he saw, was too busy following his orders to notice the man's voice. He simply brushed past the pair and went into the pilot's quarters. The were two people in the room, one obviously a Hispanic man, and one an African-American. the African-American one was the co-pilot.

"Excuse me, good sir." Regular said tapping the pilot on the shoulder. As the man turned he saw it was indeed Juan Carlos. With incredible speed he took in everything about Juan. The little details, such as a different style of laminate on his ID, and the lack of Pilot's Wings, led him to believe that this man was a false pilot. The get-up was about as realistic as a story of cutting down a tree with a herring.

"Yes? What is it?" The pilot said.

"I thought I ought to tell you that I believe you are El Faraón, the Hispanic criminal and revolution leader." Regular said calmly.

"Indeed I am." Juan said nodding. "I take it you are Regular?"

"Quite. Now, what should we do from here?" Regular said, trying not to look surprised by Juan's easy confession.

"Well, I suggest if we are going to duel that we should reach a nice altitude first." Juan said.

"Agreed, then you can simply let you Co-Pilot here take over." Regular said.

"Yes, that, and I'm going to crash this plane on purpose." Juan said. At this point they had been in the air for around half an hour and they had reached a high enough altitude to kill a man easily.

"I can't let you do that." Regular said. Juan stood up and walked calmly to the spot on the plane that Regular was sitting at before, exactly in the center. Regular followed behind after a few seconds, and as he walked past Amicus gave him the order to take control of the plane. Amicus sobered up, nodded, and walked straight to the Pilot's chair, much to the dismay of the attendant.

"You're not speaking to me again after this, are you?" Amicus asked heavily. Regular just shook his hand. And looked into his eyes deeply.

"It's been a pleasure knowing you... friend."

Regular walked towards the muscular Mexican man, loosening the door handles on the way. He had no chance of winning in a battle of brawn, but in a battle of wits...

"Let's begin, shall we?" Regular said. HE launched a swift kick to Juan's chest, but Juan was barely phased by it. Regular saw his fate was sealed when his strongest hit (which, granted, wasn't very strong) didn't hurt his opponent in the least. he moved directly n front of the door of the lane and waited. Juan slowly walked up and came face to face with him.

"Have you ever been skydiving?" Regular asked him. In the moment of confusion, Regular opened the door and grabbed El Faraón. The pair felll out the door and dropped like stones. It was a long fall, and the super macho Juan was lucky enough to pass out form fear before too long. Regular, as always, kept calm.

"I am going to die." he yelled. "This is okay. I solved the case."

' He was speaking more to himself for comfort than anything else. The ground rushed up beneath him and the last sound he heard the a large crack. Everything else went black.

Author's Note

This story will be updated every few weeks with a long chapter, at least 5k words or more.

If you didn't notice, Regular resembles very closely another detective. HINT- look at the letters on the cover pic.

... It's L. The detective is L.