> In the criminal justice system, the ponies are represented by one mare; one who investigates crime.
> This is her story.
 
> Dun Dun
 
> “C’mon Thunderlane, you already dragged me out here in the cold. The least you could do is bring a sweater or something.”
> “I brought a sweater.”
> “But you didn’t Bring me one!”
> Thunderlane gives his female companion an I-told-you-so look.
> “As I said, Fleetfoot, The Gardens are much better at night. No other ponies, just us, the statues, and a lot of beautiful flowers.”
> Thunderlane stops and smells the menagerie of colorful plants.
> “And they’re not the only beautiful thing here...”
> He throws a smirk towards the visibly shivering mare, who raised an eyebrow.
> “Don’t tell me we came all the way out here to flatter me.”
> “Not entirely.”
> “Then why?”
> “As I said, its just us-”
> “-and its freezing.” The mare interjected.
> The couple reached a bench off to the side that had a good view of the rest of the royal canterlot gardens.
> It was under a stand of trees, and was surrounded by daises.
> “When why don’t we warm up?”
> Thunderlane gestures to the wooden bench. It was old and stained with coffee or something.
> Fleetfoot looks to the bench and back to him.
> “Here… but its so exposed…”
> “I know. Are you scared of getting caught by and owl or something?”
> She ponders it for a second.
> “EEEEEE! This is going to be so fun! Public Sex, how risqué!”
> “And you thought the fun was gone…”
> Fleetfoot tackles Thunderlane, pushing him backwards onto the bench.
> They locked lips for a few seconds, doing the tongue tango while Thunderlane’s “pride” rose.
> Thunderlane moved his hooves down Fleetfoot’s tender back, past her wings coming to rest on her flanks.
> As she bent down to kiss him again, he noticed a small drop of something on her shoulder.
> In the moonlight, it was hard to tell, but it looked red.
> “Babe, there’s some blood or something on you. You alright?”
> “I feel fine; Shut up and pump.”
> Happy to oblige, Thunderlane inserted and began thrusting.
> Fleetfoot went from light moans, to full on moans, to straight up screaming.
> She was grinding her pelvis into him at an alarming rate.
> Can you get rugburn from fur?
> As Thunderlane felt himself getting close, and he thrust into her one final time.
> Fleetfoot was climaxing as well, and she spread her wings, arched her back, and looked up to the trees above.
> She was screaming in pleasure.
> She was squirming.
> Her wings were flapping.
> Wait, hold up, was that normal?
> Fleetfoot was screaming louder now, but it seemed different somehow.
> She unexpectedly kicked at Thunderlane, broke away from him and stumbled away, running as fast as she could.
> “C’mon Babe, it’s not /that/ small, what’s wrong?”
> A drop on his muzzle caused him to look up.
> Above him, among the leaves, the brutally beaten head of a pony was lodged in a tree branch.
> Her eyes were glazed over, and blood was dripping down her muzzle and dripping off her nose.
> “Holy Fuck! Wait for me!”
> Thunderlane rolled off the bench and took to the skies after his lover.
 
 
> Dun Dun (Carousel Boutique, Ponyville, Equestria, Equus, Jan. 12)
 
>“C’mon, Anon, this is important!” Rarity stamped her hoof and puffed out her cheeks, disgruntled, but still putting on the puppy dog eyes.
“This has to be the fourth time you called me down to take measurements. It’s getting old”
> “Oh, sure, I’ll just ask the next human I see to model for me.” She says, rolling her eyes at her sarcasm.
“Don’t you have better things to do, like, you know, make clothes for ponies?”
> “I’m working on it.”
“Stop whining. That’s where all your income comes from is it not?”
> “That’s not whining, thi-“
“-thiiiiiiis is whiiiiiiining me me mememe me me” you mockingly imitate her trademark line.
> “Hrmph. Fine. I know you only have the best intentions at heart. I’ll go and visit twilight and see if she will try on my newest fashion line.”
“Nothing sells like the princess.”
> “You’re telling me, darling. Care to join me?”
“I don’t know, my schedule’s pretty booked…”
> You take a look at your little scratchbook with your schedule for the day.
> Coincidently, its just a blank page with the works “Wack it” written over and over.
“…But I think I can fit it in somehow.”
> “Wonderful!”
> Rarity grabs a clothes ensemble.
> You wish you could describe it, but “frills, glitter, and lace” are standard operating procedure for the seamstress.
> The two of you leave Carousal Boutique and walk down the street on the way to Twilight’s castle.
> You shoot the shit as you walk. Not talking about anything in particular, but manage to burn up the 10 minute walk.
> As you approach Twilight’s castle, you notice an odd number of guards around.
> Rarity escorts you into the castle. By now the guards have gotten used to you, but they still give you odd looks.
> “Hey Twiiiiliiight!” she calls out in a singsong voice as you enter the map room, where twilight spends her time.
> There’s a slew of guards around, and Twilight herself is at the center of them, reading a scroll.
> And she was crying.
> Not like sniffling, but outright bawling.
> Spike is nowhere around, presumably, Sparkle sent him away.
> Rarity’s expression changes, dropping the ensemble she was carrying in her magic and rushing over to twilight.
> “R-Rarity, A-non! Thank Celestia you’re here! Some-something happened!” Twilight chokes out.
> “Its alright, we’re here. What happened?”
> “S-someone’s been murdered!”
> “What?!”
> Damn son.
> You didn’t think these marshmallow creatures were capable of such a thing.
> No matter how you imagine it, you can only come up with an image of a fist-fight between two peeps.
> Heh.
> Peeps.
> You barely stifle a laugh.
> Luckily, No one noticed.
> “Why aren’t the guards investigating this, Darling?”
> “The victim was someone from Ponyville, and since Celestia and her guards have their hooves full, she sent it to me.”
“I guess being dead is a technically a friendship problem.”
> Rarity looks at you, shooting daggers.
> “That wasn’t funny, Anon. This is a serious crime!”
> She looks back to Twilight.  
> “It was someone we know? Who?”
> “Yo-you know Daisy? The pink pony with the green mane?”
> Not really.
> “Not her… I Just saw her two days ago… She bought a little frilly dress from me.”
“Why would she buy a dress?”
> “I don’t know, perhaps she had a date or something.”
> Twilight had calmed down a bit and was now just sniffling.
> “That s-sounds like a lead. I guess I’ll try and put together a team of inves-“
> Rarity puts a hoof over her mouth.
> “Don’t worry about it, darling. You can count on us!”
> Twilight looks at Rarity wide eyed as she hops up from Twilight and gallops towards the door.  
> “This looks like a job for…”
> Rarity goes to her dropped ensemble.
> Although she was naked all the time, you instinctively look away out of curtesy as she put it on.
> She twirls around, holding a magnifying glass up.
> “…Detective Rarity!”
> Oh lawd.
> “Come now Watson, we’ve got a case to solve!” Rarity says, trotting out the door.
> After a few seconds she pokes her head back inside.
> “That’s your cue, Anon!”
> You look at Twilight.
> This can only end badly.