Chapters The afternoon was clear and sunny, courtesy of Rainbow Dash and the weather squad. Perfect weather for some outdoor exercise.
Phillip hung by one foreleg from a tree branch, barely even sweating as he completed his fifth set of alternating one-hoof pull-ups (thirty on each leg). After his last rep, he dropped to the ground and started to jog again, heading through the park. His vest, even with all the gear, barely weighed him down at all. Easily vaulting and surmounting various obstacles in his path and zipping past other ponies, he headed towards the center of the park.
Might shave a couple more seconds off of my time today, he thought, taking pleasure from the idea. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a small tightness in his chest that slowly began to grow. He did not react--he'd long ago learned to ignore pain--but couldn't stop himself from feeling a small depression. The simple fact was, he was not getting any younger.
Doesn't mean I'm gonna let myself get out of shape. He picked up the pace, pushing himself even harder.
But a voice brought him to a halt.
"--blank flanks! You're just wasting your time!"
"We ain't! We'll find our cutie marks eventually!"
"Oh, please. You've been working on them for months now, and you still haven't got them!"
Walking around a bush, Phillip spotted seven young foals before him. He recognized all of them. There was Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, the three founding members of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. With them were the two recent additions to the ranks: Dinky Do, the daughter of Ditzy and Time Turner, and Tootsie Flute, the daughter of Bon Bon and Lyra Heartstrings. With them were their chief tormentors: Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.
"So? That just means we'll keep working on them!" Dinky said.
"Oh, right," Diamond said with a small sneer. She and Silver Spoon began circling the five younglings like a pack of timberwolves might circle a scared lost doe. "Right up until you're old and wrinkled up like a bunch of prunes!"
"You were already loserly enough when it was just the three of you," Silver Spoon said. "But now you're even more loserly with the freak's daughter and the queer's daughter!"
"You take that back!" Dinky said, looking like she might launch herself at the bully. "My mom's not a freak!"
"And just because I have two mommies doesn't mean that that's wrong!" Tootsie Flute says.
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with that," Diamond Tiara said in a sickeningly fake apologetic voice. "There's just everything wrong with being a bunch of blank flanks!"
The last two words reached Phillip's ears and began to echo inside his head, Diamond Tiara's words awakening a memory:
"Little orphan blank flank! Little orphan blank flank!" the trio of schoolchildren chanted, prancing around him in the yard as he sat in the middle of their circle, clinging to his books. Outside of the circle, he could see other children standing, watching...not doing anything! Why weren't they doing anything?! His eyes began to burn and water...
Just like their's were right now. Phillip approached the two bullies, silently creeping up behind them. They were not aware of his presence until he cleared his throat loudly. The two fillies turned to see a grown stallion giving them the evil eye beneath windswept, black-as-midnight bangs.
"I suggest you two go home and think about your attitudes," he said in a voice he usually reserved for criminals. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon both backed up a little, then turned and ran away.
Phillip relaxed his gaze as he turned to the fillies. "Don't listen to those wombats. Ponies like them are about as useful as a waterproof towel."
The five fillies grinned at his joke. "Thanks, mister," Scootaloo said.
"Call me Phil," he replied.
"You're that detective that Rarity told me about, right?" Sweetie Belle asked in her distinctive squeak. "I love your hat! It goes with your eyes! And your hair! How did you get that cool, casual, out-for-a-run look?"
"I went out for a run," Phillip said with a small smile.
"We were just off to do some more crusadin'!" Apple Bloom said proudly. "Today we're trying--"
"Leaf-printing?" Phillip guessed, noticing the books, ink and roller pads.
"Cutie mark crusaders leaf-printers!" the five cheered.
"Say," Apple Bloom said. "You got any advice for getting cutie marks?"
"How'd you get yours?" Scootaloo asked.
Once again, a memory flew, unbidden, to Phillip's mind...
"I was selfish."
The rain dripped down his head, mixing with his tears. He stood before the tombstone, his hooves sinking into the mud. A name stared balefully back at him: Bobby Baseline.
"So selfish. So stupid. So arrogant. And you paid the price for that. I will never, ever forgive myself for that. I will never, ever forget that I could have stopped it.
"But I promise you, dad...I won't fail you again. You told me that our talents are more than what made us unique; that they're a responsibility to others. To use our abilities to help others. I never listened...I didn't want to hear it." He choked on a sob. "But now I'm listening, dad. I see clearly for the first time now what I'm here for, and I swear...I will not allow anypony else to get hurt. Not when I can do something to prevent it."
He felt something on his flanks, a slight tingling. Turning, he saw that both of his flanks were shining with a bright light that slowly faded, revealing a black magnifying glass on his sides.
That was it, then. For better or for worse, this was his life. Placing his father's former hat on his head, he turned and walked away, heading for his new life.
"I made a promise," Phillip said. The five fillies looked confused, but Phillip's tone and face made it clear that he did not wish to elaborate.
"Trust me," he said. "Keep working at it. You'll get your cutie marks. But in my experience, it'll happen at the moment when it's the last thing on your mind."
"Okay. Thanks for helping! Bye!" Tootsie Flute called as the group headed out.
Phillip turned back to go to his run, but was distracted by the giggling from the group. Turning, he saw the group dashing about, collecting leaves and setting up their equipment, all the while chatting happily.
It reminded him of so many recesses as a child, when he would sit alone, sometimes with a book, sometimes not, watching the other children run and play at their games, and every one of them with a smile on their face and a laugh on their lips.
He'd never understood why they'd never asked him to come over and play. Wasn't that what they were supposed to do? Wasn't that what they were taught in school?
"Do you want to try it?"
The voice, which belonged to Dinky Do, snapped him out of his reverie. Several seconds passed before he realized that she was talking to him. Another few seconds passed, during which she continued to smile up at him, while he decided what to do.
Why not? that little voice in the back of his head asked.
Yes, why not?
He shrugged and allowed himself to be herded towards the group and placed before a sheet of paper and an ink roller.
Some time later, Applejack came down to the park, looking for her sister and her friends. As she headed towards the center of town, she was attracted by what she recognized as a saxophone, playing The Daughter of Rosie O'Grady. And some familiar voices singing to it.
Walking towards the source of the sound, she saw Phillip sitting amongst the five CMC (who, as usual, were covered in tree sap), playing his sax while they sang and danced around him, their enthusiasm making up for what they lacked in talent. Applejack felt a smile cross her face at the sight.
The song and dance was interrupted by a crashing. Ditzy fell out of a nearby tree and landed on her back amidst a bunch of branches and leaves.
"Hi, muffin!" she said cheerfully, locking eyes as best as she could with Dinky, who giggled and bounced over. "Silly mom!"
Bon Bon and Lyra both trotted up. "Oh, there you are!" Bon Bon said. "It's time to get home. You need a bath!"
"I'm all sticky!" Tootsie Flute said.
"I'm Lyra Heartstrings," Lyra replied, tussling her daughter's mane. "Ew! You're tootsie flute, All Sticky!" She grinned. "Get it?"
Bon Bon and Tootsie both laughed. "Yes, I get it," Phillip said flatly. Everypony else groaned, rolled their eyes, or both; Lyra fancied herself a comedian, but most of her jokes fell flat on their faces.
"In fact, it's time for all of you to get along home," Applejack said. "It's getting late."
"Awww," the fillies sighed, but obediently began to trudge off.
"Thanks for keeping an eye on them," Bon Bon said to Phillip.
"No worries," Phillip said, packing back up. He exited the park and headed for B Boulevard.
Even if he'd never admit it, he'd enjoyed his time with the fillies. There was just something oddly refreshing about their enthusiasm, their approach to life. He wondered what their cutie marks would be.
Meanwhile, in another part of Ponyville, somepony opened a letter.
"Good news," they said. "The package is on it's way and will be here tomorrow."
"Excellent," said the other pony in the room. "We'll put the message out tonight."
"Are you sure it safe?"
"Nopony's figured it out. Nopony in this town is smart enough to figure it out. Our little black market operation is quite safe."
That night, there was a rainstorm, the result of a last-minute scheduling by the Weather Squad. The water poured down, assailing the rooftops of Ponyville, while a cold wind blew. The combination of these two factors meant that nopony went outside.
Nopony except a single pegasus, who struggled through the foul weather. He mustn't fail in his mission: he knew that he would be punished if he failed to deliver his package.
But he hadn't expected this rain and wind. He was used to flying at night, using the stars and other landmarks to navigate. But the dark clouds and freezing water being blown into his face made it nearly impossible for him to see. He had to rely solely on his sense of direction. He knew where the drop-off point was: he just had to get there. Without freezing to death.
Of course, knowing his bosses, that would probably be preferable to failing his mission.
There! Down by that oak tree! He swooped out of the sky and landed, walking around to the hidden bolthole underneath the tangled roots. Finally! He reached into his saddlebag for the package.
All he felt, however, was a hole in the bag. His eyes widened as his hoof thrashed within the saddlebag, searching desperately. He couldn't have lost it! He knew he had it when he left Cloudsdale! It must have fallen out!
He took a breath. Okay. No need to panic. They'd planned for this. He just needed to send out the emergency signal. Fortunately, he still had the stick of waterproof chalk. He quickly flew to the city square, spotting the billboard that he was looking for in front of the school. Normally, local announcements were posted on it. Now, it was for a different message. He took out the chalk and drew a symbol on the board: two diagonal slashes going from bottom left to top right, then a square shape beneath them with a dot in it.
There. Now that that was done, it was time for him to get his tail out of there and lay low. Even if he'd followed the protocol, his bosses weren't going to be happy.
The next morning, the five CMC headed towards the schoolhouse, discussing ideas for cutie marks.
"Hey, I just had an idea!" Apple Bloom declared. "What about detective skills? We could have Phillip help us out with that!"
This idea was met with approval with the other Crusaders, but Sweetie Belle pointed out the rather obvious.
"But where are we gonna find a mystery to solve?"
That question stumped all of the group. "Every detective needs a mystery," Sweetie Belle said.
"Where would we find one?" Scootaloo asked.
"Maybe we could ask Phillip," Sweetie Belle suggested.
"Or maybe one will find us," Dinky Do said. "Like in those mystery books!"
"Those are just fiction," Sweetie Belle pointed out, turning to face Dinky as she walked. "There's got to be a mystery we can solve. We just have to keep our eyes open."
No sooner had those words come out of her mouth that she walked into a billboard. The other fillies stifled their laughing as Sweetie shook her head, regaining her balance.
When she looked up, she saw something on the board. A mark of strange graffiti was displayed on it in chalk. "Girls, look at that," she said, pointing.
"That's definitely mysterious," Tootsie Flute said.
"It's just some graffiti," Scootaloo said. "What's so mysterious about that? We need to think big! Something like a stolen painting or a kidnapping or..."
"Can't we start small for once?" Dinky Do said wearily.
"Oh, you're such a worrywart," Scootaloo said.
"I just want to keep us safe," Dinky Do said.
"Girls, please," Tootsie Flute said.
"Scootaloo's got a point," Apple Bloom said. "If we want to get our cutie marks, we gotta think big. We--hey, what's that?" Her attention was diverted to a bush. She pushed aside the leaves with her hoof and reached inside, pulling out a small package wrapped in brown paper. "It's not marked."
"What are you girls up to?" said the familiar voice of Cheerilee, trotting up towards them.
"We found this in the bush," Apple Bloom said, handing the package to their teacher.
"And somepony graffitied on the bulletin board," Sweetie Belle said, pointing.
"Oh, not again!" Cheerilee said with a groan. "I'll have to call city services to get that cleaned. Now then, what's this?" She examined the package, then slowly opened it. Her eyes widened in shock.
Inside the package was a small piece of cloud, just big enough to hold in hoof, intricately crafted to resemble a forest landscape with a cloudy sky.
"Cloud art," Cheerilee said. "And it's probably stolen."
There was a quiet cough. "Somepony call for a detective?"
Phillip stepped forward and briefly glanced at the cloud art sculpture. "That should go to the city vault for safekeeping." He turned his attention to the package and it's wrapping, putting on his loupe and adjusting the magnification as he examined the paper.
"A professional delivery pony. Looks like it was dropped from the sky, meaning a pegasus. From Cloudsdale would be my guess. Left-hooved, dark blue mane and currently dating."
"How can you tell all that?" Sweetie Belle asked.
"The paper itself is sky paper, made of a leftover cloud strands. Then there's the creases in the paper. The angle tells me that he was left-hooved and the pattern says he's a professional at wrapping. There's a dark blue hair in there, looks like stubble. And there's the faint smell of cologne on the paper. What's this?" He took a pair of tweezers from his vest and plucked a small piece of sky blue canvas from the paper. "Probably from a delivery saddlebag. Pattern suggests severe wear. Further suggests that our delivery pony is absent-minded."
"Amazing!" Cheerilee said, gawping.
"Part of the job," Phillip said, collecting the evidence. "I'll put this in the city safe at town hall. And while I'm there, I'll talk to city services about that graffiti."
"Thank you, Mr. Finder," Cheerilee said, returning to her normal, cheery self. "Now, come on, girls. We're late for class."
Phillip headed for town square with a touch of his trilby brim. Cheerilee guided the CMC back into the schoolhouse.
"A stolen piece of cloud art and a strange graffiti pop up at the same time?" Apple Bloom whispered to her friends. "Coincidence? I think not."
"I agree," Tootsie Flute said. "Should we investigate?"
The five fillies grinned at each other. "Cutie Mark Crusaders Detectives!" they cheered in a whisper.
Part 3: Cutie Mark Crusaders Detectives
"Thanks again for letting me use your balloon," Phillip said, climbing into Twilight's old but still trusty hot air balloon.
"Don't you need a spell so you can walk on clouds?" Twilight asked.
"No," Phillip said, indicating the silver necklace he was wearing, which glowed faintly and had an emblem of a cloud. "An enchanted necklace used by Royal Guard that allows non-pegasi to walk on clouds."
"So what's your plan?" Spike asked him.
"Go to the Cloudsdale Delivery, ask around, work my way from there." Phillip tossed some sandbags out of the balloon and started up the engine. "I'll be back as soon as I find something I can work with."
"Wait!" a voice called. The trio looked up to see the Cutie Mark Crusaders dashing towards them at full tilt.
"What about the graffiti?" Apple Bloom said.
"Yeah! A package with stolen art appears in town at the same time as some strange graffiti? It's too much of a coincidence to ignore!" Scootaloo said.
"You can't leave! A detective should leave no clue uninvestigated!" Tootsie Flute said.
"Um...yeah! What they said!" Sweetie Belle said.
Phillip gave a small sigh. "Sheilas, I don't have time to chase after some juvenile delinquents with too much time on their hands."
"Joovy what now?" Scootaloo said.
"Juvenile delinquents," Dinky Do said patiently.
"I can look into it when I get back," Phillip said, heaving the last of the sandbags out of the balloon. The balloon began to rise up into the air.
"But when will you be back?" Tootsie Flute asked.
"Soon," Phillip said, touching the brim of his trilby in salute as he piloted towards Cloudsdale. Within a few moments, he'd caught a gust of wind and was off.
"Well, now what?" Apple Bloom said.
"Oh, I'm sure that you can think of something to try getting your cutie marks in," Twilight said with a smile as she and Spike returned to the library.
The five put their heads together. "Hey," Apple Bloom said. "We should look into the graffiti ourselves!"
"We should?" Sweetie Belle asked.
"Yeah," Scootaloo said enthusiastically, turning to Tootsie Flute. "You said it yourself; leave no clue uninvestigated!"
"You're right!" Tootsie Flute said with an excited jump.
"Are you sure?" Dinky Do said hesitatingly.
"Sure I'm sure!" Apple Bloom said.
"Well..." Dinky said. "As long as it's nothing too dangerous."
"Oh, relax!" Scootaloo replied.
"Are we all agreed?" Apple Bloom asked, then not waiting for an answer, declared, "Then let's go!"
"Cutie Mark Crusader Detectives!" the five cheered, heading for town hall.
"City services, please," Sweetie Belle asked the receptionist. The receptionist, confused into obedience by the abruptness of the emboldened fillies, pointed them down the hall, which the five quickly sped down.
They came to an office which they entered to find a unicorn stallion with a white coat, sky blue mane and tail, cut short, and green eyes with a cutie mark of a scrub brush sitting behind a desk, reading a file.
"Hi!" The stallion looked up at the five fillies entering. "Are you the one in charge of cleaning up graffiti?"
"Yes, I am," he said, sitting up straight. "I'm Clean Cut. What can I do for you?"
"You know that graffiti that popped up on the bulletin board in front of the schoolhouse?" Sweetie Belle asked.
Clean Cut groaned. "That. It took me an hour to scrub that off!"
"Have there ever been any graffiti similar to that?" Apple Bloom asked.
"Oh, yeah," Clean Cut said, sorting through a filing cabinet and pulling out several folders. He placed them on the table and spread them out. There were several photographs of similar graffiti that had appeared over town over the past two years, apparently. They were all of patterns of geometric shapes. All of them were placed somewhere in town, usually in someplace somewhat public, and made in a white waterproof chalk.
"They pop up about once a month, every month," Clean Cut said. "And they give me a bunch of trouble. That waterproof chalk is such a pain to clean."
"Why do you think whoever is doing that is doing it?" Tootsie Flute asked.
"Don't know," Clean Cut said. "I'd say it would be some kind of message, but we don't really have any gangs in Ponyville. Maybe it's just somepony trying to get attention."
The five fillies looked at each other. Gangs, eh?
One of the small local taverns, the Midnight Oil, was not a place where fillies usually hung out. Usually, it was a place for the Ponyville toughs with nothing to do except shoot pool and have a few drinks.
Understandably, there was a bit of confusion among the tenants when five fillies walked inside and headed for the bar. The room fell silent; every head turned to follow their bold journey.
"Hi!" Apple Bloom said to the bartender, a dark purple unicorn stallion with blue mane, tail and eyes and a bottle cutie mark, who returned her greeting with a blank expression. "Know of anypony in here who's part of a gang?"
The next thing the CMC knew, they were flying out the door and landing back in the street. Naturally, they had to land in a mud pool.
"Eww!" Sweetie Belle groaned, her white coat caked in mud. "Rarity's gonna have a fit when she sees me."
"I guess maybe sometimes the direct route isn't the best route," Apple Bloom said.
"You think?" Scootaloo said sarcastically.
"Oh, come on," Apple Bloom said, shaking the mud off her. The other four cried out and flinched as they were once again doused in mud. "We can't give up now! We've still got leads to chase down!" And with that, she dashed off, the other four following.
"What leads?" Sweetie Belle asked Scootaloo, who shrugged in response.
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.
Rainbow Dash paced the hallway of the hospital room, her thoughts occupied with the five fillies that were currently lying in the room behind her, bandaged and battered. She hated having to stay here, to wait; the urge to do what she did best--to go out and do something instead of just standing here, waiting for the families to comfort the little ones and for the guards to get here with their questions--grew greater with every passing moment.
Somepony needed to pay. That was all she cared about. The anger that she felt at the thought of somepony in this town who would try to murder little fillies in cold blood made her blood boil. Her mind raced to create a variety of extremely painful punishments for whoever did this (she rather favored flying them up into the upper atmosphere and seeing what shape stain they made when they hit the ground).
Of course, she couldn't do that until she knew who to punish. So for now, she had to do the one thing in the world she hated the most--wait. Wait while time was wasted, while the anger cooked her from the inside out.
But then came the sound of rapidly approaching hoofsteps. Rainbow looked up and realized with relief that she might not have to wait much longer.
Phillip skidded to a halt in front of her, out of breath. "It's them, isn't it?" he said.
"How--oh, right. Crime sense." Rainbow filled him in on what had happened, adding that she'd seen the wreckage of the cart in the woods, flown down to find the five unconscious and injured, and immediately dashed to the hospital for help.
"The doctors say they should be okay, but they won't be crusading for a while."
"Good," Phillip replied, having recovered his breath.
"Did you find who you were looking for?" Rainbow Dash asked, eager to go out and do something.
"No, but now I'm needed here," Phillip said, putting his hat back on. "But I do need you to do something for me."
"Will it help find who did this?"
"Yes." Phillip took out a pencil, grabbed a sheet of paper off a nearby table and wrote out a letter that he handed to Rainbow. "Go to the Cloudsdale barracks and give this to Corporal Falcon Wing. He knows me, he'll do what I tell him."
"Will do!" Rainbow said, delighted at the chance to do something of value. She turned to go, but stopped as Phillip started to enter the room where the fillies waited.
"You are going to find out who did this, right?"
Phillip gave her a look over his shoulder. "Have I ever given you reason to doubt me? Now get going."
Rainbow nodded and shot out the window in a rainbow blur. Phillip turned back to the door.
Years ago, on a night not unlike this night, he faced the door to his home, having returned from a nightly run. He opened the door and stepped inside, just as he had done hundreds of times before.
But this time everything changed. Because this time, when he looked, he saw the scarlet stains on the wooden floor. He stepped into the foyer and saw the corpse lying on the carpet; the eyes that had once shined with life and kindness now stared blankly upward in death, and he saw his world falling apart in their reflection.
Something inside him began to scream...
He shook himself out of the chilling memory. Focus. He had to focus. He could not...would not let his first failure get in the way of this.
He entered the room. There were five beds, each containing one bandaged filly and surrounded by concerned family.
"I always told you that this crusadin' business would get you in trouble one day," Applejack told her younger sister, shaking her head sadly.
"Sweetie Belle, what have I told you about talking to strangers?" Rarity said to her younger sister, her anger mixed with concern.
Tootsie Flute was being coddled by Lyra and Bon Bon, and Dinky was receiving the same treatment from Ditzy and Time Turner. Scootaloo was being looked over by a unicorn mare with white fur, sunshine yellow eyes and a pale blue mane, the ensemble giving her impression of a partly cloudy day. Her cutie mark was of a sun, partially covered by a cloud. Phillip recognized her: Rain Breeze, Scootaloo's mother. She was slowly stroking Scootaloo's mane, a mournful look on her face.
Rarity looked up when Phillip entered. "Oh, Phillip, I'm glad you're here. It's simply awful what has happened!"
"I know. May I speak to you lot for a moment?"
The adults gathered around Phillip. "I want to try something to help them remember any details that may help me. But I'm gonna need to ask you all to leave."
"But--" several of the adults started to protest, but Phillip cut in; "It works best if it's just us."
Rain Breeze looked at Applejack and Rarity. "Do you trust him?" she said in a soft voice that sounded like it came and went on the summer wind.
Applejack looked at Phillip for a moment, then returned her gaze. "Yes. I'd trust him with my life if I had to."
"As would I," Rarity replied. "If there's anypony who can find out who did this to our loved ones, it's Phillip Finder."
"That's good enough for me," Ditzy said.
"I don't know," Time Turner said, his usual, shy, nervous self. "Dinky is very nervous and I'm afraid that forcing her to go back to what happened might--"
"I will not allow any of those fillies to come to any more harm," Phillip said. His voice was soft, but the force behind them was as strong as a hurricane. "I swear on my life that I won't."
That was good enough for Time Turner. Bon Bon and Lyra both nodded assent, then Rain Breeze. Everypony left except Phillip.
He approached the beds of the fillies. "Hey, sheilas," he said with a quiet, assuring smile. "How y'all feeling?"
"My head really hurts," Apple Bloom said.
"Mine, too," the other four said.
"Well, you're here. That's something." Phillip took a seat. "Listen, I want to find out who did this to you. But I need you to help me."
"What do you want us to do?" Sweetie Belle asked.
"I need you to go back to the accident in your minds. See if you can recall any details."
Panic momentarily flashed in the eyes of the fillies as the thought of being forced to recall the frightening incident. "I'll be right here," Phillip said in a reassuring tone. "You don't have to be afraid."
He allowed the girls time to think. He'd had practice talking to children. The key was patience; go slow, give them time to think, to understand.
"Okay, I think I can try it," Sweetie Belle said. One by one, the other four also agreed.
"Okay. I need you to take a deep breath. Close your eyes." The girls obeyed, listening only to the sound of his voice as he delivered a low, soft, slightly monotonous tone.
Some might call what Phillip was about to do hypnotism. In actuality, it was a memory technique that relied on using all of the senses to enhance a memory.
"I want you to go back to when you first woke up in the cart." He paused, allowing them time to recollect. "Stop for a moment. Look around."
"It's dark. I can't see anything," Apple Bloom said. "The cart's covered."
"You're sure you can't see anything?" Phillip asked.
"Wait...there's some light. There's a small hole in the side."
"What do you smell? What do you feel?"
"The cart's made of wood," Scootaloo said softly. "It's cold and sticky, the wood."
"And it smells," Sweetie Belle said. "What does it smell like? Some kind of plant...kind of sour..."
"Olives," Tootsie Flute said. "It smells like olives. I know because my mom used some recently."
"That's good. What else? Do you hear anything?"
"Outside," Apple Bloom said. "Voices. Two stallions. One of them's the stallion from the park. The other one's his...partner, I think."
"Is there anything distinctive about their voices?"
"I...it's too muffled. I can't tell," Dinky said.
"That's okay. Now what?"
"The cart's moving," Sweetie Belle said. "It's...it's being pulled."
"What side is the light on?"
"The...the left side. Towards the back of the cart."
"Wait," Scootaloo said. "There's something else. One of the wheels squeaks. I think it's one of the front wheels."
"Where's the cart going? How fast is it going?"
"Fast. The two stallions, they're running," Scootaloo said.
"We go on for about a minute," Dinky said. She was beginning to tremble; they all were. They knew what was coming. "Then we turn left, then right. There's a bump."
"Slow down," Phillip said. "Just slow it down. Focus on anything outside you can hear."
"It's...it's too loud with the rattling the cart's making," Apple Bloom said.
"We go across a bridge," Scootaloo said, her voice beginning to shake. "Then there's a slight left...we go for a long time. We stop...and then we...we..." She opened her eyes with a little gasp, ending the vision,
"It's all right," Phillip said soothingly. "Hey, look at me. You're safe now. Nopony's gonna hurt you."
The fear remained in their eyes, and they looked to him for comfort. Seeing them like this--vulnerable, afraid--made Phillip feel a burning inside. These fillies were innocent; they did not deserve to be hurt like this. They did not deserve to be afraid of a monster walking among them in their home.
No, he would find them, and he would make them pay. And these fillies would not need fear anymore.
"You did great, okay? You were very brave, all of you. And you've helped me out a lot." He started to get up.
"Don't go!" Tootsie Flute said.
I make them feel safe, Phillip thought to himself, touched by the realization of what they saw in him.
"I need to. I need to find them. But you're family's are still here. They'll take care of you, okay?"
They nodded. He turned back and exited the room, signaling the adults outside to come back in. "They're scared. They need you now."
"Where are you going?" Applejack said.
"I'm going to find a monster."
The description of the cart's trip had given Phillip an area of Ponyville to work with. He started at the crash site, which was a hill in the Whitetail Woods. Looking down over the edge, he saw the wreckage of the cart, a tangled mass of wood scraps. The cart wasn't painted or decorated in anyway; no convenient logo to trace.
Following the directions that they'd given him, Phillip started to work backwards, tracing the path they'd taken. He crossed a bridge, took a few turns. He found himself heading into a patch of farmland south of Ponyville. The wind carried a variety of scents to his nostrils as his ears were filled with the sound of brush and leaves.
Turning this way and that, Phillip relied on his near eidetic recall of Ponyville's layout. He passed fields of wheat, fields of barley, corn, tomatoes, oranges...
Olives.
The cart had smelled of olives.
But as he looked around, Phillip realized that there were actually three olive plantations nearby. I have to narrow it down. Come on, Phil, you see everything that goes on around here.
He thought back to his memories of the markets. He knew all of the stands there, knew the families that owned and operated them.
Yes...he narrowed it down to one suspect. A strong, well-built, bald, dark browned, red-tailed stallion pulling an unmarked cart with a hole on one side. And he knew where to go.
The Laurel Brothers Plantation was a small olive farm, located in a small forest that separated it from other nearby farms. Everything about the place was plain and unattractive, from the brown picket fence to the weedy dirt path that led up to the white, undecorated two-story house that the brothers shared. While not decidedly dissuasive, it wasn't very attractive to the eye.
He headed up the pathway towards the cottage, turning an eye towards the fields of olives, which were just bearing ripe fruit. He spotted a figure amongst the leaves and approached.
It was the large stallion, the one from the park. Phillip noted his cutie mark, an olive press, and the solid gold watch on his foreleg that definitely wasn't a family heirloom and was way too expensive for an olive farmer. The stallion glared at him in suspicion and hostility as Phillip approached.
"G'day," Phillip said. "I have some business for you..."
"Treadmill," the stallion said. "What can we get ya?"
"Not buying. Selling." Phillip glanced around as if making sure that nopony was nearby, then stepped a little closer. "I'm a friend of Cloudtrotter, and he told me about the lost shipment. I know where it is, and how to get it."
Treadmill's eyes widened. Phillip could see his inherent greed taking over. "Follow me," Treadmill said, heading towards the house. Phillip followed behind.
Treadmill opened the front door and brought Phillip into the foyer. "Thales!" Treadmill shouted. Another pony came down the stairs. This pony was well-toned with a tan coat. His mane, tail and eyes were olive green and he had an olive branch and a goblet for a cutie mark. Phillip could immediately tell that this one was in charge.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Thales demanded.
"I'm a friend of Cloudtrotter--" Phillip started. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a pistol was shoved into his face.
"So how come he's never told us about you?" Thales snarled. "How did you find us?"
Phillip found it somewhat amusing that he was being threatened with a gun. A relatively new and little used technology outside of the Royal Guard, but honestly, fairly easy to deal with. Feigning nervousness at the threat, he raised his hoof towards his hat. "W-Well, y'see..."
With a sudden movement, he flicked his hat at Thales' face, momentarily blinding him. Slapping the gun aside, Phillip bucked Treadmill in the jaw with both hooves before he had a chance to react, sending him flying back and knocking him out. Turning back to Thales, he stepped to the outside of his gun leg, brought him to the floor with a straight leg bar, and knocked him out with a strike to the temple.
"Wankers," he muttered, retrieving his trilby and dusting it off.
He had just finished tying them up when there was a knock at the door. He opened it to find Pinkie Pie smiling up at him.
"How do you always know where to find me?"
"Silly, it's impossible for me to always know where you are!" Pinkie replied.
"Then--" Phillip suddenly remembered who he was talking to. "Never mind. Pinkie, I've found the simpletons that hurt the sheilas. I need you to head down to the hospital and bring a doctor and an ambulance up here."
Pinkie gasped. "Are you hurt?"
"No, no, it's not for me, it's for them. They're a little banged up; tripped and fell down the stairs."
"Okay! I'll be back here in two shakes of a cotton tail! Wait, cotton tail? Cotton doesn't have tails!" Giggling and snorting at her own silliness, Pinkie turned to head out.
"Actually, Pinkie, take your time," Phillip called after her, shutting the door.
As Pinkie trotted off, humming a little tune, she heard some sounds coming from the cottage.
Specifically, she heard what sounded like two ponies being knocked down the stairs and painfully crashing into furniture.
Later, Thales and Treadmill were loaded into the ambulance on stretchers, wrapped head to tail in bandages and casts and groaning in pain.
"And how many times did they trip and fall down the stairs?" Nurse Redheart asked Phillip.
Phillip shrugged in response. "Wasn't counting."
Five days later, the newspapers of Equestria all made a proud declaration in the big, bold headlines. Thanks to the keen detective work of Corporal Falcon Wing of the Royal Guard Investigative Division, a dangerous black market group that had been a threat to Equestria's economy and civilians for a long time had been destroyed, it's members captured and stolen goods, which included a rare and valuable piece of cloud art by the famous master Manealangelo, recovered. Acting on an anonymous tip, the keen-minded Corporal captured one of the market's members (whose name was kept secret), a delivery pony who worked in Cloudsdale, Ponyville and the surrounding areas, who agreed to turn on the other members in exchange for protection. The ringleaders, Thales and Treadmill, a pair of olive farmers from Ponyville, were in custody and were to be arraigned on multiple charges, including the abduction and attempted murder of several local fillies, within the week.
As Lyra put it, "I guess you could say that olive their plans went up in smoke! Get it?"
"I still don't get why you wouldn't let them mention your name," Rainbow Dash said, slapping the newspaper down in on the park bench. "You did practically all the work!"
Phillip lowered his saxophone. "I prefer to keep my name out of public sight. I'm not in this for the glory. And besides," he added, turning to the five fillies who were sitting by the pond, discussing new crusader plans. "They helped out a fair bit."
Rainbow Dash looked at the fillies. The bandages were gone and the bruises had faded. Right now they were all smiling and laughing as they discussed future plans. They were still haunted by the incident--they had trouble talking to strangers, and probably would for a while now--but they had mostly recovered, psychologically as well as physically. The little squirts were tougher than you'd realize, she thought with a smile.
"Yeah, but they still didn't get a cutie mark out of it," she added.
"I told them that they showed promise, but I didn't think that their talents lay in that direction," Phillip replied. "Their parents and siblings agreed with me, of course."
Rainbow chuckled. "Of course."
They stood in silence for a moment longer.
"I'd really like to see them earn their cutie marks," Phillip said.
The thought surprised Rainbow. "You know, I...didn't really strike you as somepony who would be good with kids."
"I'm not," Phillip said. "But what kind of pony would I be if I ignored a crying child?"
With a small smile, Phillip raised the saxophone back to his mouth and began to play again. Rainbow turned from him to the fillies, who were laughing as they recalled past crusades. The setting sun cast it's oranges and reds across the sky, finishing the picturesque scene.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders slept soundly that night.