Art Class

After parking the balloon, Phillip made his way to the Cloudsdale Delivery, a large warehouse style building with it's company name declared in sky-blue letters. He asked the receptionist if he could speak to the manager, stating that he was requesting a job interview.

"G'day," he greeted the manager, a stern-looking pegasus with a white coat, sunshine yellow mane, tail and beard, and storm-cloud black eyes with a clipboard for a cutie mark. "I'm looking for a specific delivery pony. He had a dark blue mane, left-hooved, seemed kind of absent-minded--his bag was a little faded and getting a hole."

The manager groaned. "You're looking for Cloudtrotter. He's a klutz and he'd forget his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders, but he gets the job done. To be honest, I just can't bring myself to fire the poor idiot. He just started dating. What do you need to talk to him for?"

"He delivered a package for me and it got lost on the way," Phillip replied. "Is he here?"

"Nah, he took the day off today." The manager wrote down an address on a sheet of paper and handed it to him. "Here's his address."

"Let's face it, girls," Sweetie Belle said dejectedly. "We're not gonna get our cutie marks in detective skills."

The five fillies were lying on a park bench, reflecting morosely on their failed investigation of the graffiti. Every "lead" that they could think of and every "suspect" they could list had turned out to be a dead end, though not for lack of trying on their part.

"That graffiti's got to mean something," Apple Bloom said.

"Just let it go, Apple Bloom," Dinky Do said. "We'll try something else tomorrow."

"Yeah!" Tootsie Flute said enthusiastically. "We could try cross-country running or water-skiing or...ooh, a butterfly!" Tootsie Flute got up and started playfully chasing the monarch butterfly through the park. Until she bumped into a larger pony hiding behind a tree.

This stallion was tall and had a similar build to Big Mac. However, his coat was a dark brown, his red tail was longer, he had no mane, and his eyes were dark green. None of the fillies could see his cutie mark because of his position.

He gazed down at the fillies, glancing around nervously. "I hear you kids were asking about the graffiti," he said in a low, deep voice.

"Do you know something about them?" Scootaloo asked, interest piqued.

The stallion nodded. "Follow me," he said, turning and walking away at a brisk pace. The fillies followed excitedly. The stallion rounded a corner. The fillies followed, but immediately stopped in confusion.

The stallion was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, where'd he go?"

None of them saw the stallion creep up behind him, a club in his hoof. The club swung through the air five times. One by one, each of the five fillies collapsed to the ground.

Scootaloo came to slowly and immediately wished she hadn't. "Ow, my head," she groaned, sitting up. "Where are we?"

"We're inside some kind of box," Apple Bloom said, knocking on the top. "Hey! Let us out, you creeps!"

Scootaloo began kicking the sides of the box. "Can anypony here us? Get us out of here!"

"Quiet!" Tootsie Flute said. "I hear voices."

"Idiot! You should've just left them alone!"

"They could've found something out," a voice replied; this was the stallion from the park. "I thought they were a threat."

"In that case, you should've just gotten rid of them!" This was another stallion, his voice harsher and deeper. Clearly, this one was in charge.

"We can still do that, can't we?"

There was a moment of silence, then the other voice replied. "Good point."

Uh-oh.

The fillies suddenly felt the box move and realized that they weren't in a box; they were in a carriage. A carriage that was moving.

Moving down a hill at an uncontrollable speed, jolting them around like ragdolls, smashing them against each other and the sides of the carriage.

Suddenly, the shaking and banging stopped, replaced by a sensation that was even more terrifying; falling. The dreadful silence was terrifying as the carriage plummeted, carrying it's cargo to their doom.

"Heeelllllp!"

SMASH!

It only took Phillip a little while to reach the address on the sheet, and even less time to pick the front door lock after he figured out that nopony was home. He entered into a small, slightly shabby cottage. It was clear a bachelor lived here: clothes scattered everywhere, sink piled with unwashed dishes.

He spotted a photograph on the mantelpiece. It was of Cloudtrotter; he had a dark blue mane, pale turquoise coat and black eyes. His cutie mark was a star with a pair of wings. Next to him was a pegasus mare with a long, sunshine yellow mane, sky blue eyes and a white coat. Her cutie mark was a sun with two clouds. He turned the photo around and read the message on the back. The two of them were at the Rainbow Falls.

"Dearest Cloudtrotter, I had a wonderful time at the Rainbow Falls with you. I hope that every time you look at this photograph, you will remember that time we had. My heart will always be yours. XOXO, Sunny Day."

Hmm. May want to look into her.

He reached the bedroom. He noticed that the bed had not been slept in and that the dresser had been turned out: several clothes were missing.

He left in a hurry. Wonder what he's scared of.

He began sorting through the pile of mail on the bedside table, looking for something of use. He noticed from various letters from the delivery company that his route routinely carried him over Ponyville. And from the array of bills, he was in debt: gambling addiction, Phillip guessed, judging by the reading material in the house, which consisted primarily of books on every conceivable game of chance and cards.

Finding nothing that caught his interest, he opened up the bedside table drawer. A few trinkets, some poker chips...what was that?

A box of waterproof chalk. The same kind that was the graffiti!

The kids were right! That graffiti was connected. It must be some kind of code for the organization--

He froze. His head snapped up towards Ponyville. A blast of cold seized his body, freezing everything, derailing his thoughts, causing his heart to skip a beat. An image stuck in his mind. Five fillies.

As soon as his crime sense delivered it's message, he bolted out of the house and ran straight for where he had parked the balloon.