Behind Locked Doorsby Leaf WhisperChaptersPart 1: Doing the ImpossiblePart 2: Trail of KeysPart 3: The AuctionPart 4: Murder in the HospitalPart 5: The Cowardly PawnPart 6: The Game ContinuesChapter notesPart 1: Doing the ImpossibleThe vault at the Manehattan Bank is supposed to be impossible to break into. The chamber of safe-deposit boxes is protected by a two-foot thick twenty-foot diameter door made of magically reinforced steel with no less than six locks. The locks can only be opened by keys worn by the bank tellers, each of which is charmed with a unique spell that the bank manager himself applies and will only work during business hours. The safe-deposit boxes themselves are even more secure, as they can only be opened by having a bank teller and the box's owner turn a specially-charmed key at the same moment. When the vault doors are closed, the interior of the room is protected by a impenetrable web of motion-sensor beams. Attempting to force open the vault, triggering the motion sensors, or using the wrong key will trigger an alarm and an automatic lockdown. Many ponies have tried to break into the bank's vault, some through deception and cunning, some through brute force. None have succeeded. The main teller of the day reflected upon this fact as he took his place behind the desk, standing sentinel before the vault door. Adjusting his tie, he looked around the decorated marble room. The stone walls stretched high up towards a painted glass skylight that directed sunlight down onto the bank symbol on the floor, a golden shield with the large black letter M embossed on a sketch of the building. A pair of rotating doors let a constant flow of ponies in and out of the bank. Even though this was a place of money, of business, the bank had always reminded him a fortress. He had always felt safe in here, protected. As long as he was in this marble room, nothing could hurt him. Nothing could scare him. And that's when a customer walked through the rotating doors. The head teller had never seen this pony before. He was a unicorn with a tan coat and a dark walnut brown mane, mustache and tail. He was exquisitely dressed in a dark suit and tie. His cutie mark was a black king chess piece. He strode through the bank with a confident air, like he owned the place, and walked right up to the head teller's desk. "Good morning," the pony said in a voice that held a trace of a Gerwhin accent. Lighting up his horn with a golden light, the visitor extracted a business card from his suit and floated it over to the teller. The card had the image of a black king chess piece with two white pawns and the words, "Discover Check Chess Club." Beneath this was a name: "Zugzwang." Zugzwang smiled lightly at the teller, but his eyes, black and dark as a cave, showed no mirth. "I would like to make a withdrawl." Slightly taken aback by the visitor's supreme confidence, the teller took a moment to respond. "Er...yes, sir. How much?" Zugzwang's smile widened slightly. "All of the money in the bank." And he lit up his horn. With a loud clattering and groaning of metal, the bank vault impossibly opened, slowly swinging open to reveal the walls of safe-deposit boxes. No alarms went off. One by one, each of the boxes sprang open, their contents floating out, trapped in a golden field. Everypony froze, watching in disbelief as hundreds of bits, valuable jewels and heirlooms all swirled out of the vault and into the center of the room. Several of the bits formed themselves into a large golden throne, standing in the center of the room surrounded by the riches. "Wunderbar," Zugzwang said, climbing onto the throne and sitting upon it like a king. Calmly, he extracted a gold-leaf cigarette and silver lighter from his suit. Lighting the cigarette, he placed it in his mouth and took a long, slow draw on it, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the taste. When he opened his eyes, he looked around in annoyance to see everypony, including the head teller and the bank manager, who had stumbled out of his office, staring at him open-mouthed. "Well, don't just stand there, dummkopf," he snapped impatiently. "Call the Guard." Numbly, his illusions of safety lying in shattered pieces around him on the floor, the head teller reached beneath the desk and pressed the button for the silent alarm. Zugzwang continued to sit on his makeshift throne, enjoying his cigarette, seemingly oblivious to the incredulous stares that he was getting from all sides. Three minutes later, a squadron of City Guards stormed through the doors, stopping to stare in disbelief. They had trained to deal with bank robbers before, but there was nothing in their training about a thief who stayed in the bank after successfully opening the vault. "About time," Zugzwang huffed, dousing his cigarette in a silver-plated bowl. "Now, hurry up, I haven't got all day. And try not to crease the suit." Thoroughly bewildered, the Guards placed shackles around Zugzwang's hooves and an inhibitor ring over his horn. They guided their prisoner out of the bank, leaving his ill-gotten riches behind, and placed him in the back of an reinforced carriage, where two Guards watched over him warily, like a bad-tempered rattlesnake. By the time they reached Manehattan Jail, Zugzwang was smiling again. The unnerved Guards guided him to the booking center, where he was questioned, searched and photographed, and then carted him to a cell. The cells in the Manehattan Jail were supposed to be inescapable. The cell doors, solid three-inch iron bars, are designed to be opened only from the outside: attempting to open them from the inside will set off an alarm. The keys required to do so have several layers of charms upon them, including a spell that ensures that the key can only be used by the guard that it is assigned to; if anypony else attempts to do so, they will receive a very painful shock and set off an alarm. Further, the prisoner inside the cell is surrounded by a variety of defensive spells that greatly weaken any magic that they have, and also prevent anypony from trying to get inside. Finally, pressure sensors in the floors will ensure that the prisoner stays in their cell and doesn't receive any unexpected visitors. Any sudden changes in pressure will set off an alarm. And that's all without mentioning the Guards and multiple layers of protection outside of the cell. Nopony has ever successfully broken out of Manehattan Jail in over thirty years. It was this fact that the Guards reflected upon as they led Zugzwang into his cell, which was bare except for a wall-mounted table with an attached chair and a cot. Having him stand facing away from the door, one Guard undid his shackles and removed his horn ring. Turning, Zugzwang watched the Guards exit the cell, shutting and locking the door behind them. Against their will, the Guards found themselves staring back at him, chilled by the constant, superior smile on his face. To their surprise, Zugzwang's horn lit up with a golden glow. The next moment, his cell door slid open with a clattering. Then, one by one, every other cell door in the Jail opened. For a moment, there was a total, shocked silence. Then, as if on cue, there was a great shouting and cheering as over a hundred criminals, thieves, robbers, muggers, drug runners, smugglers and murderers burst form their cells, stampeding out into the hallways, charging towards the exits and piling onto the overwhelmed Guards. "Excuse me, gentleponies," Zugzwang said, starting forward as if he simply intended to walk out. One of his Guards, realizing that he was somehow responsible for this, for unlocking the cell doors, drew his baton and charged, swinging it at his head. Casually, Zugzwang ducked beneath the swing and lifted his foreleg, thrusting it at the Guard's neck. A four-inch blade, concealed in the sleeve of his suit, sprang out and pierced his victim's throat like paper. With a violent gesture, Zugzwang ripped the blade out of the stallion's throat. Blood sprayed across the stone wall and the wide-eyed Guard collapsed, clutching his throat and gurgling on his last breaths. Zugzwang looked up at the other Guard, the enigmatic smile still on his blood-stained face. "Run." The Guard took another look at his dead partner, then turned and sprinted down the hallway. Zugzwang glanced down at himself, then looked at the body with a snort of distaste. "You got blood on my suit, schweinhund," he grunted, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaning off the blade with it. Retracting the blade back into his sleeve, Zugzwang turned and left the cell, walking casually down the hallway filled with battling Guards and rioting prisoners. Reaching the back door—which was supposed to lock down in an emergency such as this—he opened it with a flicker of his horn and walked out into the back street. "Your move," he said out loud, and with a smile, teleported away in a flash of golden light. Author's Note Well, here we go. The eleventh official Phillip Finder story is underway, and Zugzwang is back! Hope you're all looking forward to the next one! Part 2: Trail of Keys"—let this hospital stand as a testament to the triumph of hope over despair. Let all those who work here, who are cared for here, who walk through these doors know that even in the darkest, most desperate times, there is always hope, because there will always be good ponies, like the kind, hardworking doctors and nurses who work here, who are willing to dedicate themselves to benefit of others." Twilight let out a breath and looked up from her notes with a nervous grin. "Well? How was that?" Her reply was a loud snore. Spike had fallen asleep after the fifth recital of Twilight's speech and had proven very difficult to rouse. Next to him on the sofa opposite Twilight, Flash was giving Twilight a rather flat look. "Twilight, I still don't see why you're so worked up over this," he said, getting up off the couch. "You've been practicing this speech for hours." "I have to!" Twilight said. "The opening of the new wing of the Ponyville Cancer Research and Treatment Center tomorrow is a very important occasion! I have make a good impression!" As she spoke, she subconsciously adjusted the rubber pink band on her left foreleg, displaying the dark purple caduceus and letters PCRTC for all to see. Flash chuckled quietly. "Twilight, you always make a good impression," he said, using his hoof to lower her notes to the table and nuzzling her cheek. "You've practiced the speech, you've got it down. You really should relax: you won't be as good if you're all stressed out." "Flash, I really need to practice more," Twilight protested, trying to push him off gently. Thinking quickly, Flash extended a wing and swept up Twilight's notes, tucking them against his body. "You—" Twilight sputtered in disbelief, reaching out to try and grab them. Flash flew up out of reach, tossing the cards up to his laughing mouth. "Give them back!" Twilight flew up after him, trying to snatch the notes back, but he kept ducking and dodging, evading every attempt. Laughing out loud now, he flew out of the room and down the hallways of the castle, Twilight right on his tail. He zigzagged through the kitchen, flew underneath the dining room table, feinted towards the guest bedrooms then did a sudden U-turn to dodge right underneath Twilight and zoomed out into the entrance hall. Suddenly, a lavender haze surrounded him, slowing his momentum. "Gotcha!" Twilight shouted triumphantly, seizing him and pulling him to the floor, where he lay on his back with Twilight on top of him, both of them panting. "All right, Your Highness," Flash said dramatically, swooning backwards. "You have defeated me. I surrender the treasure unto you!" He handed her notes back. Twilight laughed. "You're ridiculous." "Only the best kind of ridiculous for you," Flash said, grinning up at her. She smiled back at him, then leaned down for a kiss. Before Flash, Twilight had never really understood the concept of kissing—what was so important about putting your lips on somepony else's mouth? But when she kissed him and felt the familiar tingling down her spine when he kissed her back, reaching up with a hoof to stroke the spot between her wings, she realized— "Ugh! Get a room, you two!" Spike had been woken up by all the crashing that they'd been making during their play chase and come down to see what they had gotten up to. With a sigh, Twilight broke away from the kiss, Flash's brief look of disappointment reflecting her own feelings, and got up off him. At that moment, a loud thump on the door signaled the arrival of the morning paper. Spike bustled down to retrieve it, bringing it up to Twilight. "Thank you, Spike," Twilight said, opening up the paper to scan the headlines: perhaps there'd be something in there about the new hospital wing. As soon as she opened the paper, however, all thoughts of the Cancer Research Center were banished from her head. Screaming at her in bold letters was the headline, "GENTLEPONY THIEF BREAKS INTO BANK, BREAKS OUT OF PRISON." Right beneath that was a familiar face. "Zugzwang!" Flash said, snatching the paper from Twilight's hooves. Ignoring her shout of protest, he began to speed read the article, which explained how Zugzwang had just walked into the Manehattan Bank yesterday, opened the vault with a simple spell, then after being taken to the local jail, opening every cell door with another spell before teleporting away, leaving dozens of convicted criminals roaming free on the streets. Flash just stared in numb disbelief at the words. This was bad; disastrous, even! How could Zugzwang have created a spell that could open any lock, defeat any protective spell? As this demonstration had proven, this meant the end of security in Equestria. There would be nopony that would be safe, nowhere that was protected from him. This was— "Impossible," Twilight said, having taken the newspaper back and examined the article more carefully. The tone that she spoke in was not one of surprise or shock or denial, but one of certainty, and it was this that struck Flash. "What's impossible?" Flash asked. "That he could use one spell for that," Twilight replied, her face settling into the expression that she used for lectures. "Explain," Flash said. "And when you do it, pretend that I don't know anything at all about magic," he added as Twilight opened her mouth. She shot him a dirty look and continued. "Basically, one spell from one unicorn couldn't penetrate all of the layers of protection," she said. "It'd be like using one key to try to open several different locks: it just wouldn't work. Unless he was the one who set the spells in the first place. Then he could use a special master spell, kind of like a master key to a lock, to open them. But that's still impossible: only the bank manager and the warden would have the master spells." "But is it still possible that if he got powerful enough—?" Flash asked. "I don't see how he could," Twilight replied. "But still..." "Telegram for Corporal Sentry!" a voice called from the door. A uniformed messenger pony stood before the crystalline doors, holding an envelope. Flash tore open the envelope and read the message within. "In Manehattan. Stay in Ponyville with Twilight, it's not safe with Z out in public. Will send message if I need help or have more info. Phil." The manager for the Manehattan Bank was a fat pale blue unicorn with golden fur that surrounded a big bald spot on the top of his head. His green eyes flickered constantly around the richly-decorated office, as if searching for an escape. His hooves, as if trying to keep themselves busy to distract him from the situation he was in, constantly moved, flitting from his cufflinks to the desk to the pink rubber band around his wrist to the photograph on the desk that depicted him with a young colt that was most definitely his son. The manager was not the first nervous pony that Phillip had dealt with. He waited patiently on the other side of the desk, face impassive, for his chance. When the manager finally cleared his throat and his hooves settled on the desk, Phil spoke. "You're sure that the spells on the vault were working?" "Yes, detective," the manager replied in a soft, quavering voice. "I applied the protective spells first thing that morning, as witnessed by my head guard. He personally tested the spells to ensure that they were working, and they were. You can ask him, even though the Guards have already questioned him...and me." His tone turned rather unpleasant, as if he considered this to be a waste of his time. "And the only way the vault could have been opened is with a teller's key, correct?" Phillip asked, his voice steady and even, ignoring the hard edge in the manager's tone. "Yes," the manager said, then before he could stop himself, added, "or my master unlock spell." Phillip did not react. He knew this already, having had some experience with protective locking spells. The bank manager realized what he had said after a moment and quickly stammered out, "N-not that I opened the vault myself! I didn't! Why would I want to rob my own bank? After this, nopony is going to trust this bank again!" He buried his face in his hooves, moaning as if in horrible pain. "I'm ruined!" Phil looked calmly down at the other pony, theories running through his mind, each one holding itself up for examination briefly before moving aside for the next. Details and clues mapped themselves across his psyche, connections drawing between them like a spider-web. And that was when he found he was missing something. "Zugzwang left behind a business card, you said?" The manager nodded, but did not raise his head. "Do you still have it or did you give it to the Guards?" "I threw it out," the manager mumbled through his hooves. "But you can have it if you want." Lowering one hoof so that he could see, he lit up his horn with a watery green glow. The desk drawer opened and the business card floated out into Phillip's waiting hoof. He exited the office, examining the card. This was recently made: the ink was still fresh. The chess club had an address on the southern side of Manehattan. Frowning, Phillip flipped it over and examined the blank back. There was nothing written there. No, that couldn't be right. Zugzwang had left it there on purpose, counting on it being found. There had to be something there, something he couldn't see. That's when a scent caught his nose. The scent of lemon juice. Taking out his lighter, Phillip flicked it open and held the card up to the flame. After a moment, the heat brought the invisible ink to light. "Tomorrow at 9:30. What can you add to the number one to make it disappear?" Phil glanced at his watch. It was 1:30 PM. He had enough time to question the warden at the Jail, do some scouting and find a disguise. One of those theories was starting to look more likely by the moment. Author's Note The second part of the new story. Things are moving along a rapid pace...maybe a bit too rapid? Tell me what you think? Part 3: The AuctionThe Discover Check Chess Club was a small establishment, but the building itself seemed to exude an almost hubris-like pride, standing proud and gleaming on its own block, apart from the strip malls that surrounded it. Even the wooden sign that hung outside the door, swinging in the breeze, seemed to carry a certain arrogance to it. It was 9:15 and a unicorn with dark brown fur and long blue mane with pencil-thin mustache strode into the club. He wore a gray business suit and tie and thick glasses that magnified his angry blue eyes. His cutie mark was a golden bit and a pair of diamonds. The club was filled with several chess tables, at which several couples and groups sat, playing chess on polished boards and drinking sparkling champagne and fancy hors d'oeuvres served to them by uniformed waiters. A crystal chandelier cast the whole room in light and an antique phonograph in the corner was playing Beethoofen. Ignoring all this, the suited unicorn walked into the back of the room, going past the restrooms and up to a door that read "Employees Only." He knocked at the door and the sign slid backwards, revealing a pair of green eyes glaring at him suspiciously. "Passphrase," a voice grunted from the other side of the door, muffled by the soundproofing spell. "Add a G to it and it's 'gone,'" the unicorn grunted back, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous riddle. What was it with Zugzwang and riddles? The jerk was probably just trying to prove how smart he was. The door unlocked and swung open, permitting the visitor entrance to the private room. Here there were several low tables, each sitting one. A hanging lamp in the center of the room provided inadequate lighting, casting everything into shadow. A small stage was set up at the front of the room, shielded by a velvet curtain. Most of the other tables were already occupied by other ponies, all of whom turned and glared at the new entrant suspiciously. Even in the shadowy lighting, he recognized them all: representatives from the Canter Nostra, the Japonese Yakuza, the Sinalope cartel, the Mareish Mob...there was even a griffon that bore the tattoos of a Griffon Mafia enforcer and a heavily scarred zebra that was no doubt sent from the zebra militias. Members of every major and a few minor criminal organizations in Equestria, and some beyond. This was a terrible idea. Every single one of the guests in this room almost certainly had a very good reason to hate all of the others. The room had turned into a tinderbox, and judging by the furtive glances, tight jaws and twitching hooves, it wasn't going to be long before some idiot set a spark. Slowly, the unicorn took a seat at a free table, glancing around at everypony else as he settled into the cushioned chair. The guard shut the door and locked it behind him. The minutes ticked by in total, tense silence, nopony daring to move or to look at one another. Finally, at 9:30 precisely, the curtains on the stage swept open to reveal Zugzwang. He was sitting in the midst of a stage, backlit by a lamp that cast most of his body and his face into shadow, but allowed enough light to make him recognizable, even without the scent of Saddle Arabian tobacco wafting from the cigarette in his mouth. Every head turned to face him. "Mein freunde," Zugzwang spoke, looking around at them all. "It's good to see you all here. Now, you all know why you're here." He paused for a moment, puffing on the cigarette. "You all wish to bid on the secret to my recent miracle. You all want to know the spell that allows one to open any lock. You all want to be the ones with the power to get into anything, go anywhere you please. And you—or, at the very least, your masters—are all willing to pay dearly for it...even kill for it, judging by the fact that all of you are armed. "So, we shall start the bidding soon, as it would be unwise for you gentleponies to be left in the same room for too long. But before we start, some entertainment. It seems we have an uninvited guest." Zugzwang's shadowy head turned to face the unicorn in the back. Like puppets on a string, every head turned to follow his gaze. "Mr. Finder, why don't you take off that silly disguise and join us as you are?" For a moment, the gray-suited unicorn did not react, looking around the room to see that everypony was staring back at him with growing comprehension and hatred in their eyes. "Damn," he muttered and sprang into action. Reaching into his suit, he pulled out a boomerang and tossed it at the guard, stunning him and preventing him from drawing the pistol from his concealed shoulder holster. In the same movement, Phillip grabbed the chair he was sitting on and tossed it at the griffon's head, making direct contact and knocking him flat. As one, the other ponies surged to their hooves and charged at him. Overturning the table to slow them down, Phillip ran back at the wall. At the last moment, he leapt up, kicked off the wall, and seized the hanging lamp. With a groan, the lamp chain broken, bringing the heavy weight down on the heads of several of his attackers, knocking them all out. The remaining thugs all leapt at him, but he rolled, twisted and dodged, avoiding every attack and striking back with powerful counters to the most vulnerable targets. Blows resounded throw the room, mixing with the crashing of tables and oaths and curses of combat. One by one, the bodies fell until it was only the zebra remaining, grappling with him in the center of the room. He seized Phillip by the collar and made to strike him, but Phillip headbutted him in the nose, trapped his hoof, and twisted his body to throw him to the ground, breaking his elbow as he did so. The zebra's cry of pain was cut short by Phillip's knee striking him in temple. "Ah, alone at last," Zugzwang said, a faint trace of amusement in his voice as he watched Phillip doff his disguise, removing the false cutie mark, fake horn, wig and mustache, and glasses and contacts. "Did you like my riddle, liebling?" "You just couldn't resist being clever, could you?" Phillip growled. Keeping his voice even and refraining from attacking right away took a great effort: he was, once again, face to face with the pony who had threatened to destroy everything and everypony he loved. Only the knowledge that he was probably protected against attack in some way prevented him from leaping up onto the stage and crushing his skull. "It amuses me to see these donkeys stumbling over the simplest of problems," Zugzwang replied, his eyes obscured by shadows as he stared back at Phillip. "Speaking of which, you no doubt know how I managed to open the vault and the jail cells?" "Not with a spell," Phillip replied. "Through simple blackmail. Both the bank manager and the warden have a child at the PCRTC: they were both wearing wristbands. They were the ones who opened the vault and the jail doors, because you have somepony working for you at the center, somepony who will kill their children if they disobeyed." Zugzwang chuckled, a short, humorless exhalation that sent chills up Phillip's spine. "Very, very good, Phillip. Yes, indeed, there is somepony among the fine doctors and nurses there, a cold-blooded killer who works for me, who today will be lurking nearby two of your closest friends." Flash and Twilight, Phillip thought, struggling not to reveal any emotion, not a trace of concern or fear. Out loud, he said in his lowest voice that rumbled like thunder, "If you hurt them, I'll kill you." "Afraid you're going to lose them like your people, Phil?" Zugzwang replied, obviously not intimidated in the slightest. "Worried that you'll fail them like you failed your father?" Phillip froze up, his expression changing to resemble somepony who had just been hit in the face with a sledgehammer. The cruel words echoed in his mind, silencing every other thought. "It's true, mein liebling," Zugzwang continued, the unseen smile evident in his mocking tone. "I know everything about you. And not unlike the child who peeks at his Hearth's Warming presents, I have to say, the truth is sadly anticlimactic. Beneath that cold demeanor, behind the stern facade, you're just a little colt playing detective, crying over daddy." He snorted, puffing smoke out of his shaded lips. "I can't decide if that's the funniest thing I've ever heard or the most pathetic. Either way, thinking about you wailing over your father's corpse always brings a smile to my face." Some sort of explosion took place in Phillip's brain, rage rushing upwards and spurring him to move. With a snarl, he leapt up onto the stage, seizing Zugzwang by the collar. Instantly, he froze, staring in disbelief. Proximity had revealed what the shadows had hidden: the pony on stage was nothing more than a dummy. Its blank gaze and idiotic smile mocked the horrified detective. "You're very, very clever, Phillip," Zugzwang's voice spoke out of the concealed speaker in the dummy's chest. It was as light and even as before, but it carried a chilling darkness in it now. "I was so hoping you would be here. Because now it means that I get to teach you a lesson about what happens to ponies who get in my way." An acrid scent assault Phillip's nostrils. A poison gas was spreading into the room, seeping in from concealed vents in the ceiling. Coughing, Phillip leapt off the stage and sprinted towards the door. He made it halfway before his knees gave out, sending him to the floor. Choking, he struggled back up and began to crawl desperately towards the door, using every ounce of willpower into moving one hoof before the next. But the gas was too strong. Phillip collapsed to the floor inches from the door. His eyelids wavered as he fought a losing battle against sleep. The very last image that flickered through his mind was Flash, lying dead on the floor, staring sightlessly upward. And then the darkness claimed him. Author's Note In which things go from bad to worse. Part 4: Murder in the HospitalSometimes Flash really hated being a Guard. Every time he put on the armor, and sometimes after he took it off, he found it impossible to just relax. Everywhere he went, he was constantly looking around, noticing entrances and exits, lines of fires, potential hazards...taking a mental catalog of everything he saw, heard, smelled, tasted and felt. Sometimes, he could only see other ponies as either "threat" or "non threat," as if the armor included some sort of glasses that filtered his vision. Like here, standing in the lounge of the Ponyville Cancer Research and Treatment Center, examining everything and everypony who had gathered here for Twilight's opening speech. The doctor standing on the other side of Twilight at the podium: earth pony, male, middle aged. Relaxed posture, no sign of nervousness or concealed weapon. Non threat. The assistant doctor next to him. Pegasus, male, early thirties. Slightly tense body posture, looking away. Adjusting the sleeve of his white coat to cover a strangely familiar faded tattoo on his foreleg. Possible threat. The janitor on the other side of the room, wheeling up to a desk and bending over a clipboard, signing on with his left hoof. Unicorn, uninterested, bored expression. Non threat. The little foals and fillies that stood before Twilight, gazing up at her in awe and delight, hanging onto her every praising word. Non threats. That's all he saw them as. Twilight was just finishing up her speech opening the new children's wing and declaring her hope that the research that would take place within would one day unlock a cure for cancer. The entire audience burst into applause, stamping their hooves against the tiled floor in delight. Everypony except him, standing stern sentinel next to the Princess. This was a happy occasion, darn it all: why couldn't he be happy and enjoy time with his marefriend? "Thank you for your kind words, Princess Twilight," Doctor Caduceus said. An earth pony with a blue mane, graying at the temples, and kindly blue eyes, his cutie mark was a golden caduceus that stood out against his brown coat. He took Twilight's place at the podium, looking out into the crowd of patients and fellow doctors. "We should all be very thankful for Princess Twilight's continued support, for without her, none of this would be possible. So let's have another round of applause for her, and for everypony who continues to aid us in our battle against cancer!" There was another round of applause. Flushed with embarrassment at the praise, Twilight shifted slightly, her wings fluttering against her sides. Flash had to force back a smile at the cuteness. He couldn't afford to break character, not in public. "Excuse me," a voice said from behind him. Turning, Flash saw a messenger pony holding a telegram in his mouth. "Message for Corporal Sentry." "Can it wait?" Flash asked. His question, however, was quickly answered by the bright red "URGENT" stamped on the envelope. Flash took the telegram, opened it up and read the brief message inside. "Somepony at PCRTC works for Z. Threatens patients, blackmailed bank manager and jail warden. You need to find him. Phil." Slowly, internalizing his racing thoughts and chilling emotions to avoid giving anything away, Flash looked up and scanned the room. Doctor Cadaceus was still speaking to Princess Twilight. His assistant doctor was standing next to him moodily, seemingly unable to meet Princess Twilight's gaze. A group of doctors and nurses, clad in white coats, was now shepherding the children into the new wing, taking them to their new beds or off to a treatment room. Support staff, clerks, secretaries and janitors mingled in the crowd. In Flash's vision, every single one of them had suddenly become "possible threat." Forcing himself to move calmly, he walked to Twilight's side, gently pulling her aside. "Flash!" Twilight protested. "I'm in the middle of—" "I need to get you out of here," Flash whispered into her ear, showing her the telegram. Her lavender eyes widened in surprise as she scanned the message within, then panned over the foals and fillies. "We need to find him," she whispered back. "I need to find him. You need to get out of here," Flash hissed back, taking her hoof to guide her from the room. "No!" Twilight replied sharply, pulling her hoof from his grasp. "I'm not just some helpless damsel! These ponies are under my protection, too!" Flash hesitated. Twilight Sparkle was certainly no helpless damsel. She was the mare he loved with his whole heart, the light of his life. And she was currently willingly putting herself in the same building as a possible killer, because the ponies here were hers, under her protection as well as his. "Your Highness, is there a problem?" Doctor Caduceus asked, walking forward with the moody doctor at his side. Flash finally recognized his companion: Doctor Winged Cure, a white, green eyed and blonde maned pegasus with a cutie mark of a winged cross, the assistant head doctor of the research center. Twilight and Flash looked at one another for a moment, then Flash sighed through his nostrils and nodded subtly. "We need to speak to your staff members," Flash said. "We have reason to suspect that one of them might be involved in...er...criminal activity." "What?" Doctor Caduceus asked, his wrinkled eyes widening in horror. "How could you think that? Everypony here is dedicated to the health of these patients; they couldn't possibly—!" "Doctor, I'm sorry," Twilight said, stepping between the stallions. "This is just a suspicion. We'll just talk briefly to your staff members, just to check and make sure that everything's all right." Caduceus frowned, chewing on his lower lip. Winged Cure was shifting nervously, looking at everything and anything except Flash and Twilight. "Well, all right," Doctor Caduceus replied. "But I'm certain that nopony on this staff is a criminal." A muscle twitched in Flash's jaw and he glared at Winged Cure, who swallowed nervously, sensing his gaze. He had just remembered what that faded tattoo on his foreleg was, and what it meant. "And I believe you," Twilight said reassuringly. "But we do have to make sure." "What do you want to know?" Winged Cure muttered at Flash's knees. "Does the name Zugzwang mean anything to you?" "No. Should it?" Winged Cure replied, making eye contact for the first time, revealing a carefully constructed cool expression. Yet he could not control the nervous twitch of his tail, nor the way his knees were pointed towards the double doors leading into the children's wing, indicating a desire to leave as soon as possible. Flash maintained eye contact for a moment more, then stepped aside. "That'll do for now." The doctors left quickly, disappearing into the new wing. The double doors swung shut behind them. Behind the doors, the killer shifted uneasily. If the Guard was asking questions, that meant that they were onto them. It would only be a matter of time before they found him, and sent him away to prison. No! No, he wouldn't go back to prison, wouldn't go back to the stone and iron hell! Forget what Zugzwang told him. He needed to get those two out of the hospital now. "What was that look about?" Twilight asked Flash back in the lounge, giving him a scathing look. "You didn't see that old tattoo on Winged Cure's leg?" Flash asked. "I did. A skull with a snake coming out of the mouth. That's a Sinalope cartel tattoo." Twilight's eyes widened in horror. "No. He's not like that. I know him; he's kind, he's helpful, he truly cares about the patients—" "He was part of a gang that smuggles drugs and executes whole families," Flash said coldly. "I grew up with ponies like him in my neighborhood in Philly. Ponies like that don't change. Ever." "Ponies do change, Flash!" Twilight shouted back. "Winged Cure can't be Zugzwang's accomplice, he just can't!" Flash was just about to point out that at this point, he had to consider all the staff members a suspect, when a piercing scream rang through the hallways of the hospital. The two ran into the children's wing, passing crowds of frozen doctors and patients as they followed the echoes of the scream into a patient's room. A nurse was staring at a patient's bed, her hooves up to her mouth in horror. The small filly lying in the bed was dead, her blue eyes staring at the ceiling and her mouth hanging open in shock. A crimson bloodstain spread across her light blue shirt, upon which a note was lying. "BACK OFF OR MORE OF THEM DIE." "Why don't we just shoot him? "You know what the boss is like. Him and his games..." The voices sounded like they were coming from the bottom of a deep well, but they roused Phillip from his unconsciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was lying in a small, dark room, a dying glimmer of light from the closing door penetrating the room. In his few moments of visibility, he saw that the room's only contents were a table with two candles, an envelope and a red button. Then the metal door slammed shut with a crash. Shaking off the dizziness, Phillip got to his hooves and stumbled through the darkness to the door. Just to satisfy himself, he seized the handle and turned it, only to receive an electric shock that forced him back with a cry of pain. Rubbing life back into his foreleg, he turned then to the table. Taking his flashlight from his vest, he turned it on, illuminating the table and its strange contents. Taking the envelope, Phillip tore it open and examined the message within. Dear Phillip, I suppose you're wondering why you're still alive. Believe me, I was very tempted to just kill you while you were asleep. It would have saved us both a lot of trouble: we both know one of us is going to kill the other one day. But such a death was unworthy of both of us, Phillip. And besides, you're right: I really can't resist being clever. It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. That's why I'm so glad you came to my little party. It feels wonderful to have somepony who's both able and willing to play with me, and I don't want to lose that just yet. I can't let you leave and warn your friends just yet—you still have a lesson to learn, after all, about the necessity of sacrifice—but I will give you this chance to free yourself early. The two candles both burn out in an hour, but at uneven rates. When you push the red button, the door will unlock in 45 minutes for one minute before locking itself again. You'll notice that I have taken your watch. If you can figure out how to use these materials to get out, you'll be home free. If not, I'll let you out when I come to tell you that your friends are dead. Viel Glück, liebling! —Zugzwang Looking down at the two candles and the red button on the table, Phillip felt his pulse accelerate, both in anger and in fear. To Zugzwang, the lives of his friends and of his own were nothing more than a game; they were, to him, no more than chess pieces, to be manipulated as he saw fit and sacrificed whenever it suited him. And now Twilight and Flash could be sacrificed, just to prove a point. Why, why had he have to get involved? Why did he have to allow himself to be pulled into this sick, twisted game? No. Calm down. He had to focus. Solve the puzzle, get out of the room. Closing his eyes, Phillip exhaled a long, slow breath out of his nostrils, dispelling his storm of emotions and allowing his rational mind to take over. Staring down at the two candles, he began to imagine solutions. The game was far from over. Author's Note This is not good. (No, really, it's not good. I'm just struggling on at this point.) Part 5: The Cowardly PawnBack at the Treatment Center, Flash and Twilight were standing in the room of the murdered filly, simply looking at one another in silent, numb horror. The corpse of the filly bore stark testimony to the presence of a monster amongst them. Outside the door, a small crowd of nurses and doctors were gathering, murmuring amongst themselves as they spread the terrible news. "How could this happen?" Twilight whispered, trembling, unable to look at the dead girl. "This is a hospital! This was supposed to be a safe place! And now there's a..." She couldn't bring herself to say it, to face the reality of what was happening. "Twilight, it's going to be all right," Flash whispered, touching her shoulder gently. It was only as the words came out of his mouth that he realized just how hollow and weak those words were. There was a murdered child here in the room with them, killed within feet of them. How could this possibly be all right? "Twilight, just try to calm down. If you freak out, everypony here is going to freak out." Realizing the truth of his words, Twilight swallowed, then closed her eyes. She took in a deep breath, raising a hoof, then exhaled slowly, extending her hoof out. When she opened her eyes again, it was with a calmer, but still distressed expression. "I'm going to do everything I can to catch this guy," Flash said. "Try to keep everypony else calm in the meantime." "How do you deal with this?" Twilight asked him softly, glancing at the victim. Flash sighed. This was not natural, being able to numb oneself to pain and death. It wasn't right, having to be somepony who could handle something as insane as the murder of a child. "Because it's my job," he replied. Giving Twilight a brief, reassuring smile and rub on the shoulder, he reluctantly turned from her and bent over the victim. The filly had sunshine yellow fur and grass green eyes. She was bald—no doubt a result of chemotherapy—but her tail was the same color as her eyes. Her name was Golden Dawn, according to the medical sheets attached to the foot of her bed, had been stabbed once in the chest. The wound was small, but the blade had punctured near her heart. Death had been almost instantaneous: the type of wound inflicted by an experienced killer. The wound was not ragged, indicating that she had not struggled or fought back. This had been somepony she trusted. His jaw clenched. An image burned in Flash's mind: Doctor Winged Cure, entering the room, with a false, sweet smile on his face. He would have asked Golden how she was, if she needed anything as he approached her. She would never have suspected anything. She would have happily let him get within reach, only realizing something was wrong when his smile became something different: something colder, darker, victorious. That was when he would have pulled the knife out of his pocket and— All at once, the voice of his instructor at the Investigative Division Academy rang through his head: "The biggest mistake an Investigator can make is to make theories before they have evidence. You end up twisting the facts to support your theory instead of adjusting your theory to support the facts." There was nothing here to suggest that Winged Cure had done this. It slowly dawned on Flash that he was allowing his own emotions, his own hatred of the criminal gangs that had littered the neighborhoods of his foalhood home, to dictate his actions. When he had completed training at the Investigative Academy, he had taken a vow that he would pursue justice, not a conviction. This filly deserved justice, not a blind avenger. Closing his eyes, Flash took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, extending his hoof out in front of him as he exhaled. The calming technique, he found, was very effective. Opening his eyes, he began to examine the scene again with fresher eyes. His attention turned to the note left on the body. Scrawled quickly with a pencil on a spare sheet of paper. Frowning, Flash took a folding magnifying glass out of one of the pockets in his armor and began to scan the letter more closely, studying the writing. Odd: the words slanted slightly to the left slightly. A sure sign of a left-hooved writer. Something clicked in Flash's mind. Going back out into the hall, he examined the floor. Curiouser and curiouser... "What is it?" Twilight asked Flash, who was staring at the floor. "I think I might have an idea," Flash said, recalling the janitor he had seen earlier, how he had spun the clipboard towards him and written with his left hoof. "You see how the floor up to the door is cleaned, but not the floor after that?" "That's strange," Twilight said, peering at the tiled floor. "It looks like the janitor came up to the door, and then just left." Flash traced the cleaned floor with his hoof, noting that it was dry, but not too dry. "Did you see the janitor anywhere near here when we came up?" "No," Twilight replied, beginning to get Flash's idea. "You think that it was the janitor?" "The note was written by a left-hooved pony," Flash said. "I saw a janitor earlier writing with his left hoof." He turned to the nurse who had discovered the body. She was still sitting on a bench on the hallway outside, her head in her hooves. It had only been recently that she had managed to stop shaking. "Nurse Lilac?" Twilight asked softly. Nurse Lilac looked up, her white-blue eyes still shiny with tears. "We need to ask you one question. Is that all right?" Lilac swallowed and nodded, sitting up straighter. "There's a janitor who works here," Flash said. "Male unicorn, dark brown coat, silvery-blonde mane, cutie mark of a mop and a broom." Lilac thought for a moment, then spoke in a soft voice like a wind through a field of flowers. "That's Wax Buffer. He's worked for us about a year now. He's always kept to himself, but we've never had any trouble with him. Is he...?" "I just want to talk to him, that's all," Flash said reassuringly. "Do you know where he might be?" "I'd check down in the laundry room," Lilac said. "It's on the bottom floor of the building. He likes to sit down there during his breaks." "Thank you, Nurse Lilac," Flash said, a feeling of calm focus, of controlled fury spreading throughout his body. With a heavy determination in his step, he turned from her to walk down the hallway and immediately slipped on a wet spot and fell to the floor with a loud crash of armor. Unable to help themselves, Twilight and Lilac both collapsed into fits of giggles as Flash struggled back to his hooves. "Come on, Princess," Flash muttered gruffly, adjusting his helmet. Still giggling, Twilight led him towards the stairs. The two of them started down the winding staircase, their hoofsteps echoing off the stone walls. "Are you really sure you want to do this?" Flash muttered to Twilight. Twilight gave him an irritated look over her shoulder. "Flash, I told you, I'm not just a helpless damsel. I have as much interest in catching this murderer as you, and I don't need you hovering over me the whole time!" "I..." Flash sighed. "You're right, Twilight. I just...I just want you to be safe." Subconsciously, his hoof reached up and stroked a small red scar on his cheek. Seeing this, Twilight's expression instantly softened as she remembered how he had gotten that scar: protecting her. "And I appreciate that, I really do," she said, taking his hoof in her own and pulling him in close. "I just wish you weren't so paranoid sometimes." "It's my job to be paranoid about you," Flash said, squeezing her hoof. "As both your Guard and your coltfriend." She smiled back and pulled him in, pressing his lips against hers. He started a little, then closed his eyes, relaxing into her embrace. For a moment, there was no threat, no danger, nothing in the world but her, and the sweet smell of honeysuckle in her mane... But then he pulled away, back into the real world, and there was still a dead filly above them and a murder suspect beneath them. "Come on," he said, guiding Twilight back down the stairs. At the bottom, they encountered a door labeled "Laundry." Pushing through it, the two ponies entered a large room filled with washing machines, conveyer belts and pipes as big around as a pony's head. Sheets and clothing spilled out of hampers or were stacked on top of the machines. "Stick close to me," Flash said, putting himself close to Twilight's side as he scanned the rows for any sign of anypony. "We do have one advantage here." "What's that?" Twilight asked. "This killer is a coward," Flash snarled, walking forward, his eyes scanning from side to side. "We are the target, but he killed a defenseless child instead and expected that to make us back off." Step by step, the two plunged deeper into the maze, their hoofsteps mixing with the whirring of machines, gurgling of water and hissing of pipes. Hidden from their view, Wax Buffer looked up from the little corner that he had been hiding in, the sound of hoofsteps pulling him from the brief heaven that he had built for himself from pills stolen from the pharmacy. His eyes widened in horror when he saw who it was: the Guard and the Princess! They had come for him, come to take him away to prison! Breathing heavily, he ducked back beneath the machines, pulling the small blade out of his pocket, the blade that had been meant to be used to kill them both. But Buffer was no fool: killing sick foals was one thing, but he knew that he had no chance of following his master's orders on this occasion, not on his own. All he had been able to do was try to force them to back away, give him room to escape, and go to his master to beg his forgiveness and help. But if he was backed into a corner...there was no way he was going back to hell. Quietly, he tried to sneak away, creeping through the rows away from his hunters. Frowning, Flash lifted up off the ground slightly, hovering in midair to examine the room from his upper perspective. A tangled maze of metal stretched in every direction. He sighed in frustration. "We'll never find him like this. Twilight, do you have any ideas?" "There is a new spell I've been practicing," Twilight said. She widened her stance slightly, standing straight and tall. Taking in a deep breath, she slowly expelled the air from her lungs as she shut her eyes. Her horn lit up, sending out pulses of magenta energy through the air. A moment later, the ghostly image of hoofprints appeared on the floor before them. "Somepony passed by here recently," Twilight said, following the trail. Flash flew close above her, still scanning ahead for any sign of danger. The glowing trail of hoofprints twisted and turned, winding past humming machinery and following low-hanging pipes that hissed and gurgled ominously, as if trying to warn the ponies of the danger ahead. Ignoring the warnings, the two followed the trail wherever it led, hurrying faster and faster as urgency filled their veins. Finally, the trail stopped underneath a wide table laden with dirty sheets. "I know you're under there," Flash called. "Come on out slowly." A pair of hooves appeared from underneath the table. "I'm sorry, sir! I know it's not my break time, but..." It was not Wax Buffer underneath the table, but a young earth pony nurse, looking at his bewildered captors with an expression of dawning comprehension. "Oh, you're not one of the doctors," he sighed with relief, climbing out from his hiding place and dusting himself off. "I'm just hid...er, resting down here. Been on my hooves for hours, you know how it is..." Behind them all, crouching behind a hamper, Wax Buffer spun the blade in his hooves. His two targets were right within reach, neither aware of his presence. He could strike now, while their guard was down, and get at least one of them. A quick slice to the kidney, and they would bleed to death in thirty seconds... But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was certain that even if he got one, the other would catch him, and they would certainly throw him into the deepest, darkest hole they could find, from which he could never climb out. No! He wouldn't get caught! He had to get out, get away! And in his panicked insanity, a desperate plan came to his mind. Leaping from his hiding place, he sprinted forward and, before anypony could figure out what was happening, seized the nurse and placed his blade to his throat. "Get back!" he shouted at the other two, pulling his hostage away. "Let him go!" Flash shouted, his venomous glare almost terrifying Buffer into obeying until he remembered that as long as he had the hostage, he was in control. "Now, listen," Buffer said, pressing his knife closer to the neck of the trembling nurse. "I'm going to walk out of here, and you're going to stay here. If I see you try to follow me—" But what he would do if he saw anypony following him, he never got to say, because at that moment, somepony flew out of nowhere and seized the knife in his hoof, trying to pull it away. "Doctor, no!" Twilight shouted in alarm. There was a flash of scarlet and a cry of pain, and the next moment, Doctor Winged Cure was lying on the floor, clutching his bleeding stomach, and Wax Buffer was sprinting away. For a moment, Flash could only stare in disbelief. While he clutched at the wound, Winged Cure's sleeve had come undone, revealing the faded gang tattoo. That mark defined him, showed them all who he was. And yet, he had acted to defend another, without heed to his own safety. Had he been wrong? "Flash!" Twilight's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Twilight bent over the doctor, using her magic to try to stem the bleeding. "Go get after him!" Spurred to action, Flash spread his wings and took to flight, soaring low over the ground after the murderer. Wax Buffer zigged and zagged, using his magic to topple appliances and fling piles of linen in his path to try to slow down his pursuer, but it was no use: Flash dodged everything, closing in with every passing second. Panting, Buffer leapt over an ironing table and turned left. The door was just up ahead. He was doing it, he was getting away—! He skidded to a halt, all of his worst fears coming true at once. He'd taken the wrong turn: right in front of him was a solid brick wall, having seemingly popped up out of nowhere to mock his plight, his cowardice. With a fluttering of wings, Flash landed behind him, spreading his wings out to block the way. "There's no way out," he ordered. "Drop the knife and give up." Slowly, Wax Buffer turned around, his chest heaving. He faced Flash, his eyes glinting with the fierce desperation of a trapped animal. With a roar, he raised the blade and charged forward, bringing it down at his pursuer's head. Calmly, Flash dodged the attack, seized Buffer's hoof, kicked him in the shin, and twisted his foreleg hard to bring him down to the concrete floor. A final blow to the head knocked him out entirely. Panting heavily, Flash looked down at the unconscious killer at his hooves. He should have felt better: the criminal was caught, Twilight was safe, justice was served. But even this would not bring back the murdered child or the Guard who Zugzwang had killed. Their deaths left a bitter taste in Flash's mouth, one that he knew nothing would truly wash away. It was the life he had chosen, the burden he had undertaken. Most other ponies should be thankful that it was not theirs. The sound of pounding hoofsteps brought him out of his reverie. Looking up, he saw a group of armored Royal Guards trooping into the room. At their head, gray eyes narrowed and tense, was Phillip Finder, who sprinted up to Flash. "You okay?" he said, panting. "Is Twilight okay?" "We're both fine," Flash replied, noting the uncharacteristic tenseness in Phillip's voice and body language. Phillip looked down at Buffer as if just noticing that he was there. "Is that him? That Zugzwang's spy?" "That's him," Flash said, giving his prisoner a cold glare. For a moment, Phillip looked at Flash, his expression blank and unreadable, then he gripped his shoulders with his hooves, a grin spreading across his face. "Ripper," he said. "You did good, Flash." Flash grinned back at the unexpected praise, realizing just how glad both of them were to see each other again. But then the moment passed, and Phillip's face became impassive once more. Turning to the Guards behind him, he said, "All right, lads. Take him away." The Guards stepped forward and shackled the groaning Wax Buffer, lifting him to his hooves and carting him away. Author's Note Finally got this done! We'll wrap up this little number in the next chapter. Part 6: The Game ContinuesLater, the squads of Royal Guards were completing the post-investigation. Pairs of Guards questioned the doctors and employees. Wax Buffer, his head bowed in shame, was led into an armored carriage and flown away to jail. As the carriage lifted off, another group of Guards emerged from the hospital, clustered tightly around a stretcher, trying to hide a small body bag from view. Flash watched them move quickly across the ground and tenderly place the bag into an ambulance carriage, which took off without hurry. He sighed softly, lowering his head in grief. Then he felt a touch on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Twilight giving him a tender look, leaning in to nuzzle him gently, attempting to comfort him. "I'm fine," he lied, leaning into Twilight's touch. "You can't just focus on the bad all the time, Flash," Twilight whispered into his ears, and that was when he realized that she was struggling to cope as well. But she was still willing to stand by him, support him. And he would do the same for her. It was what friends did. There was a clattering and voices from the front of the Center, and Flash's attention was attracted to a pair of paramedics carrying a stretcher bearing the wounded Doctor Winged Cure towards another ambulance. "Wait," he called to the paramedics, striding to the doctor's side. For a moment, Flash's eyes were drawn to the foreleg that bore the gang tattoo, but then he made eye contact with the pegasus. "You going to be okay?" he asked. Winged Cure hissed in a little breath and managed a small grin. "It's not serious. I'll be okay." "Why'd you jump in like that?" Winged Cure's face fell slightly. "I came down looking for you, and when I saw him holding that knife to that pony's throat...I couldn't just stand by and let him get hurt." The marked foreleg flexed slightly. "Not like what..." He caught himself, then corrected, "Because I'm a doctor." Flash stared at him for a moment, processing what he had said, what he had done. Then, with a smile, he held out his hoof. "Thank you, doctor." Winged Cure smiled back and shook Flash's hoof before he was carted away to the ambulance. Twilight gave Flash an approving smile as he turned back to her. "I was wrong," he admitted. "Ponies can change." The two of them turned now to Phillip, who was sitting off by himself, looking unusually tired. He had already explained how he had infiltrated the auction and fallen into Zugzwang's trap before Twilight and Flash were called away. "So how did you get out of that room?" Twilight asked. Phillip looked up. "It took me a while to figure it out, but once I did, it was simple. Both candles would burn out in an hour. I lit the first candle at both ends, and the second at just one. When the first candle completely melted, half an hour had passed. At that point, I lit the second candle at the other end. When that melted away, 45 minutes had passed, and I was able to open the door and escape. Then I got the Guard and hurried here." He paused, then swallowed softly and glanced down. "Flash...Twilight...Zugzwang told me that he was going to kill you two to teach me a lesson." "You don't need to feel responsible for us, Phil," Flash said. "We're fighting with you, not for you, remember?" Phillip smiled softly. "It's good to see you again." Spreading his forelegs, Flash moved forward for an embrace, but was immediately rebuffed. "What did I say about hugging?" "Sorry." Many hours later, after night had fallen across Equestria, Wax Buffer lay awake in his cell at Canterlot Jail, struggling to get comfortable on one of the hard, itchy cots. Fear prickled at his mind. Surely Zugzwang knew that he had failed. Or had he not expected him to succeed in the first place? Had his order to murder the Guard and the Princess been a test? And what did it mean now that he had failed? That was when he heard hoofsteps approaching, and the rattling of chains. Looking up, he saw that all his worst nightmares had come true. A pair of Guards were walking down the hallway, a shackled prisoner between them. "Caught him at the train station, trying to head for Baltimare," one of them said to the other as they reached Buffer's cell. Shivering, Wax Buffer crawled into the furthest corner, his widened eyes fixed on his new cellmate. Zugzwang kept his eyes on his failed pawn as one of the Guards removed his shackles before backing out, leaving the magical restraint ring on, and locking the door behind him, his face stony and impassive. The two Guards remained for a moment longer, then stepped away. It was only after their hoofsteps faded away that Zugzwang spoke, his voice cold and hard as ice. "I'm disappointed in you," he said to Wax Buffer, still cowering in the corner. "Sir, please—" "Silence." Wax Buffer was struck dumb and still, left to silently pray for his master's mercy. "Weak-minded as you are, your brain addled by the pills you swallow like candy, I thought you had proven your loyalty and usefulness to me. That was why I made you the key to my plan. "And yet, when the time came, when I told you to kill Princess Sparkle and Corporal Sentry, you disobeyed me. You forgot what you were: a pawn, a piece to be controlled and maneuvered as I see fit. When I give you an order, you obey without question, without doubt, without thought to yourself or whether you might be caught." He took a single step towards his terrified servant, who quailed under the imperious look he was giving him. "You put your faith in me, and me alone. I am your master. I am your commander. I am your god." He leaned down and spoke in a low, venomous hiss. "Do you understand the weight of the sins you have committed against me?" "Yes! Yes, master! I'm sorry!" Wax Buffer cried, flinging himself at Zugzwang's hooves. "Please forgive me!" There was a long silence, the weight of which hung over Wax Buffer's head like a sword blade. Finally, Zugzwang let out a small sigh. "You are forgiven. Perhaps some of the fault lies with me; I overestimated your capabilities." Hardly daring to believe what he was hearing, Wax Buffer was able to look up. "So...you're not going to kill me now?" Zugzwang stared down at him for a moment longer, then spoke with no change in his voice or face. "No, I'm not going to kill you now." Buffer sighed in relief, feeling the weight removed from over him. "I killed you several hours ago, when you ate your dinner," Zugzwang continued, still in that same chilling monotone. "A small pill of strychnine with a protein shell concealed in your stew. As I speak, the enzymes in your stomach are breaking down the shell and releasing the poison into your bloodstream. I realize you had hoped for forgiveness, but unfortunately for you, I have a point to make." A chill spread throughout Wax Buffer's body. "No, master, please—" His voice was suddenly cut off when a constricting feeling spread across his chest, cutting off his breathing. His jaw clamped shut, pain spreading across his face. Convulsions began to spread across his body as if he was being shocked, becoming worse and worse with every passing second until Buffer was sprawled across the ground, his back arched and limbs violently twitching like a dying insect, his face growing steadily bluer as he slowly suffocated. Zugzwang sat up on the other cot, watching impassively as his pawn died, silently screaming in agony. Once the twitching finally stopped, Zugzwang turned away and closed his eyes. He imagined a great chessboard, large as the nation itself, spread out before him, noting the position of the pieces. He thought of the pieces that he had sacrificed tonight, and the ones that he had already placed, ready for his next move. He thought of Twilight and Flash, two pieces whose power he had evidently underestimated. He would have to keep an eye on them in the future. And then he thought of him. He pictured him, sitting on the other side of the board, brow furrowed as he pondered his next move, wondering what might happen next. His rival, his equal, his opponent. His purpose. Zugzwang thought of Phillip Finder and smiled. This game was just getting started. TO BE CONTINUED Author's Note That's the end of this story...and the beginning of the next! I can't wait to start the next one, and I hope that you've enjoyed this story and are looking forward to the continuing adventures of Phillip Finder! Chapter notesPart 1 —This story was partially inspired by the Sherlock episode The Reichenbach Fall. —Discover Check Chess Club: a discover check is when a piece moves aside to get out of the way of a rook, bishop or queen, placing the king in check. —"Wunderbar": German, "wonderful." —"dummkopf": German, "idiot." —Zugzwang's concealed blade in his sleeve is inspired by the Assassin's Creed video games. —"schweinhund": German insult, literally translates to "pig-dog." Part 2 —Lemon juice is a common invisible ink. It becomes visible when exposed to heat. Part 3 —Beethoofen: play on Beethoven, a German composer. —Canter Nostra: play on Cosa Nostra, the proper name for the Italian Mafia. —Japonese Yakuza: reference to the real-life Japanese Yakuza organized crime groups. —Sinalope cartel: play on the Mexican Sinaloa drug cartel. —Mareish Mob: play on the Irish Mob. —"Mein freunds": German, "my friends." —"liebling": German, "darling." —Zugzwang revealing that he knows about Phillip's past is similar to the scene in Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker in which Joker reveals that he knows Batman's identity. Part 4 —A caduceus is a winged staff with a pair of serpents, a symbol of the Greek god Hermes, and often incorrectly identified as a symbol of medicine and doctors. —Winged Cure's tattoo bears a similarity to the Dark Mark worn by the Death Eaters in the Harry Potter series. —In the Phillipverse, Flash Sentry grew up in the crime-ridden slums of Fillydelphia. —"we both know one of us is going to kill the other one day:" the only way Phillip and Zugzwang's relationship can end. —"Viel Glück, liebling!:" German, "good luck, darling!" Part 5 —"The biggest mistake an Investigator can make is to make theories before they have evidence. You end up twisting the facts to support your theory instead of adjusting your theory to support the facts.": paraphrasing Sherlock Holmes in A Scandal In Bohemia. —Curiouser and curiouser...: reference to Alice in Wonderland. —Flash's scar is from an injury in a previous story, Secret of the Mare Lisa. —"Ripper.": Australian slang, "great!" Part 6 —Strychnine is a poison, often used in rat toxins, that causes violent muscle spasms and respiratory paralysis. It's a slow, agonizing way to die. —Zugzwang's final thoughts reflect his obsession with Phillip. Author's Note Chapter notes from the story.
Part 1: Doing the ImpossibleThe vault at the Manehattan Bank is supposed to be impossible to break into. The chamber of safe-deposit boxes is protected by a two-foot thick twenty-foot diameter door made of magically reinforced steel with no less than six locks. The locks can only be opened by keys worn by the bank tellers, each of which is charmed with a unique spell that the bank manager himself applies and will only work during business hours. The safe-deposit boxes themselves are even more secure, as they can only be opened by having a bank teller and the box's owner turn a specially-charmed key at the same moment. When the vault doors are closed, the interior of the room is protected by a impenetrable web of motion-sensor beams. Attempting to force open the vault, triggering the motion sensors, or using the wrong key will trigger an alarm and an automatic lockdown. Many ponies have tried to break into the bank's vault, some through deception and cunning, some through brute force. None have succeeded. The main teller of the day reflected upon this fact as he took his place behind the desk, standing sentinel before the vault door. Adjusting his tie, he looked around the decorated marble room. The stone walls stretched high up towards a painted glass skylight that directed sunlight down onto the bank symbol on the floor, a golden shield with the large black letter M embossed on a sketch of the building. A pair of rotating doors let a constant flow of ponies in and out of the bank. Even though this was a place of money, of business, the bank had always reminded him a fortress. He had always felt safe in here, protected. As long as he was in this marble room, nothing could hurt him. Nothing could scare him. And that's when a customer walked through the rotating doors. The head teller had never seen this pony before. He was a unicorn with a tan coat and a dark walnut brown mane, mustache and tail. He was exquisitely dressed in a dark suit and tie. His cutie mark was a black king chess piece. He strode through the bank with a confident air, like he owned the place, and walked right up to the head teller's desk. "Good morning," the pony said in a voice that held a trace of a Gerwhin accent. Lighting up his horn with a golden light, the visitor extracted a business card from his suit and floated it over to the teller. The card had the image of a black king chess piece with two white pawns and the words, "Discover Check Chess Club." Beneath this was a name: "Zugzwang." Zugzwang smiled lightly at the teller, but his eyes, black and dark as a cave, showed no mirth. "I would like to make a withdrawl." Slightly taken aback by the visitor's supreme confidence, the teller took a moment to respond. "Er...yes, sir. How much?" Zugzwang's smile widened slightly. "All of the money in the bank." And he lit up his horn. With a loud clattering and groaning of metal, the bank vault impossibly opened, slowly swinging open to reveal the walls of safe-deposit boxes. No alarms went off. One by one, each of the boxes sprang open, their contents floating out, trapped in a golden field. Everypony froze, watching in disbelief as hundreds of bits, valuable jewels and heirlooms all swirled out of the vault and into the center of the room. Several of the bits formed themselves into a large golden throne, standing in the center of the room surrounded by the riches. "Wunderbar," Zugzwang said, climbing onto the throne and sitting upon it like a king. Calmly, he extracted a gold-leaf cigarette and silver lighter from his suit. Lighting the cigarette, he placed it in his mouth and took a long, slow draw on it, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the taste. When he opened his eyes, he looked around in annoyance to see everypony, including the head teller and the bank manager, who had stumbled out of his office, staring at him open-mouthed. "Well, don't just stand there, dummkopf," he snapped impatiently. "Call the Guard." Numbly, his illusions of safety lying in shattered pieces around him on the floor, the head teller reached beneath the desk and pressed the button for the silent alarm. Zugzwang continued to sit on his makeshift throne, enjoying his cigarette, seemingly oblivious to the incredulous stares that he was getting from all sides. Three minutes later, a squadron of City Guards stormed through the doors, stopping to stare in disbelief. They had trained to deal with bank robbers before, but there was nothing in their training about a thief who stayed in the bank after successfully opening the vault. "About time," Zugzwang huffed, dousing his cigarette in a silver-plated bowl. "Now, hurry up, I haven't got all day. And try not to crease the suit." Thoroughly bewildered, the Guards placed shackles around Zugzwang's hooves and an inhibitor ring over his horn. They guided their prisoner out of the bank, leaving his ill-gotten riches behind, and placed him in the back of an reinforced carriage, where two Guards watched over him warily, like a bad-tempered rattlesnake. By the time they reached Manehattan Jail, Zugzwang was smiling again. The unnerved Guards guided him to the booking center, where he was questioned, searched and photographed, and then carted him to a cell. The cells in the Manehattan Jail were supposed to be inescapable. The cell doors, solid three-inch iron bars, are designed to be opened only from the outside: attempting to open them from the inside will set off an alarm. The keys required to do so have several layers of charms upon them, including a spell that ensures that the key can only be used by the guard that it is assigned to; if anypony else attempts to do so, they will receive a very painful shock and set off an alarm. Further, the prisoner inside the cell is surrounded by a variety of defensive spells that greatly weaken any magic that they have, and also prevent anypony from trying to get inside. Finally, pressure sensors in the floors will ensure that the prisoner stays in their cell and doesn't receive any unexpected visitors. Any sudden changes in pressure will set off an alarm. And that's all without mentioning the Guards and multiple layers of protection outside of the cell. Nopony has ever successfully broken out of Manehattan Jail in over thirty years. It was this fact that the Guards reflected upon as they led Zugzwang into his cell, which was bare except for a wall-mounted table with an attached chair and a cot. Having him stand facing away from the door, one Guard undid his shackles and removed his horn ring. Turning, Zugzwang watched the Guards exit the cell, shutting and locking the door behind them. Against their will, the Guards found themselves staring back at him, chilled by the constant, superior smile on his face. To their surprise, Zugzwang's horn lit up with a golden glow. The next moment, his cell door slid open with a clattering. Then, one by one, every other cell door in the Jail opened. For a moment, there was a total, shocked silence. Then, as if on cue, there was a great shouting and cheering as over a hundred criminals, thieves, robbers, muggers, drug runners, smugglers and murderers burst form their cells, stampeding out into the hallways, charging towards the exits and piling onto the overwhelmed Guards. "Excuse me, gentleponies," Zugzwang said, starting forward as if he simply intended to walk out. One of his Guards, realizing that he was somehow responsible for this, for unlocking the cell doors, drew his baton and charged, swinging it at his head. Casually, Zugzwang ducked beneath the swing and lifted his foreleg, thrusting it at the Guard's neck. A four-inch blade, concealed in the sleeve of his suit, sprang out and pierced his victim's throat like paper. With a violent gesture, Zugzwang ripped the blade out of the stallion's throat. Blood sprayed across the stone wall and the wide-eyed Guard collapsed, clutching his throat and gurgling on his last breaths. Zugzwang looked up at the other Guard, the enigmatic smile still on his blood-stained face. "Run." The Guard took another look at his dead partner, then turned and sprinted down the hallway. Zugzwang glanced down at himself, then looked at the body with a snort of distaste. "You got blood on my suit, schweinhund," he grunted, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaning off the blade with it. Retracting the blade back into his sleeve, Zugzwang turned and left the cell, walking casually down the hallway filled with battling Guards and rioting prisoners. Reaching the back door—which was supposed to lock down in an emergency such as this—he opened it with a flicker of his horn and walked out into the back street. "Your move," he said out loud, and with a smile, teleported away in a flash of golden light. Author's Note Well, here we go. The eleventh official Phillip Finder story is underway, and Zugzwang is back! Hope you're all looking forward to the next one!
Part 2: Trail of Keys"—let this hospital stand as a testament to the triumph of hope over despair. Let all those who work here, who are cared for here, who walk through these doors know that even in the darkest, most desperate times, there is always hope, because there will always be good ponies, like the kind, hardworking doctors and nurses who work here, who are willing to dedicate themselves to benefit of others." Twilight let out a breath and looked up from her notes with a nervous grin. "Well? How was that?" Her reply was a loud snore. Spike had fallen asleep after the fifth recital of Twilight's speech and had proven very difficult to rouse. Next to him on the sofa opposite Twilight, Flash was giving Twilight a rather flat look. "Twilight, I still don't see why you're so worked up over this," he said, getting up off the couch. "You've been practicing this speech for hours." "I have to!" Twilight said. "The opening of the new wing of the Ponyville Cancer Research and Treatment Center tomorrow is a very important occasion! I have make a good impression!" As she spoke, she subconsciously adjusted the rubber pink band on her left foreleg, displaying the dark purple caduceus and letters PCRTC for all to see. Flash chuckled quietly. "Twilight, you always make a good impression," he said, using his hoof to lower her notes to the table and nuzzling her cheek. "You've practiced the speech, you've got it down. You really should relax: you won't be as good if you're all stressed out." "Flash, I really need to practice more," Twilight protested, trying to push him off gently. Thinking quickly, Flash extended a wing and swept up Twilight's notes, tucking them against his body. "You—" Twilight sputtered in disbelief, reaching out to try and grab them. Flash flew up out of reach, tossing the cards up to his laughing mouth. "Give them back!" Twilight flew up after him, trying to snatch the notes back, but he kept ducking and dodging, evading every attempt. Laughing out loud now, he flew out of the room and down the hallways of the castle, Twilight right on his tail. He zigzagged through the kitchen, flew underneath the dining room table, feinted towards the guest bedrooms then did a sudden U-turn to dodge right underneath Twilight and zoomed out into the entrance hall. Suddenly, a lavender haze surrounded him, slowing his momentum. "Gotcha!" Twilight shouted triumphantly, seizing him and pulling him to the floor, where he lay on his back with Twilight on top of him, both of them panting. "All right, Your Highness," Flash said dramatically, swooning backwards. "You have defeated me. I surrender the treasure unto you!" He handed her notes back. Twilight laughed. "You're ridiculous." "Only the best kind of ridiculous for you," Flash said, grinning up at her. She smiled back at him, then leaned down for a kiss. Before Flash, Twilight had never really understood the concept of kissing—what was so important about putting your lips on somepony else's mouth? But when she kissed him and felt the familiar tingling down her spine when he kissed her back, reaching up with a hoof to stroke the spot between her wings, she realized— "Ugh! Get a room, you two!" Spike had been woken up by all the crashing that they'd been making during their play chase and come down to see what they had gotten up to. With a sigh, Twilight broke away from the kiss, Flash's brief look of disappointment reflecting her own feelings, and got up off him. At that moment, a loud thump on the door signaled the arrival of the morning paper. Spike bustled down to retrieve it, bringing it up to Twilight. "Thank you, Spike," Twilight said, opening up the paper to scan the headlines: perhaps there'd be something in there about the new hospital wing. As soon as she opened the paper, however, all thoughts of the Cancer Research Center were banished from her head. Screaming at her in bold letters was the headline, "GENTLEPONY THIEF BREAKS INTO BANK, BREAKS OUT OF PRISON." Right beneath that was a familiar face. "Zugzwang!" Flash said, snatching the paper from Twilight's hooves. Ignoring her shout of protest, he began to speed read the article, which explained how Zugzwang had just walked into the Manehattan Bank yesterday, opened the vault with a simple spell, then after being taken to the local jail, opening every cell door with another spell before teleporting away, leaving dozens of convicted criminals roaming free on the streets. Flash just stared in numb disbelief at the words. This was bad; disastrous, even! How could Zugzwang have created a spell that could open any lock, defeat any protective spell? As this demonstration had proven, this meant the end of security in Equestria. There would be nopony that would be safe, nowhere that was protected from him. This was— "Impossible," Twilight said, having taken the newspaper back and examined the article more carefully. The tone that she spoke in was not one of surprise or shock or denial, but one of certainty, and it was this that struck Flash. "What's impossible?" Flash asked. "That he could use one spell for that," Twilight replied, her face settling into the expression that she used for lectures. "Explain," Flash said. "And when you do it, pretend that I don't know anything at all about magic," he added as Twilight opened her mouth. She shot him a dirty look and continued. "Basically, one spell from one unicorn couldn't penetrate all of the layers of protection," she said. "It'd be like using one key to try to open several different locks: it just wouldn't work. Unless he was the one who set the spells in the first place. Then he could use a special master spell, kind of like a master key to a lock, to open them. But that's still impossible: only the bank manager and the warden would have the master spells." "But is it still possible that if he got powerful enough—?" Flash asked. "I don't see how he could," Twilight replied. "But still..." "Telegram for Corporal Sentry!" a voice called from the door. A uniformed messenger pony stood before the crystalline doors, holding an envelope. Flash tore open the envelope and read the message within. "In Manehattan. Stay in Ponyville with Twilight, it's not safe with Z out in public. Will send message if I need help or have more info. Phil." The manager for the Manehattan Bank was a fat pale blue unicorn with golden fur that surrounded a big bald spot on the top of his head. His green eyes flickered constantly around the richly-decorated office, as if searching for an escape. His hooves, as if trying to keep themselves busy to distract him from the situation he was in, constantly moved, flitting from his cufflinks to the desk to the pink rubber band around his wrist to the photograph on the desk that depicted him with a young colt that was most definitely his son. The manager was not the first nervous pony that Phillip had dealt with. He waited patiently on the other side of the desk, face impassive, for his chance. When the manager finally cleared his throat and his hooves settled on the desk, Phil spoke. "You're sure that the spells on the vault were working?" "Yes, detective," the manager replied in a soft, quavering voice. "I applied the protective spells first thing that morning, as witnessed by my head guard. He personally tested the spells to ensure that they were working, and they were. You can ask him, even though the Guards have already questioned him...and me." His tone turned rather unpleasant, as if he considered this to be a waste of his time. "And the only way the vault could have been opened is with a teller's key, correct?" Phillip asked, his voice steady and even, ignoring the hard edge in the manager's tone. "Yes," the manager said, then before he could stop himself, added, "or my master unlock spell." Phillip did not react. He knew this already, having had some experience with protective locking spells. The bank manager realized what he had said after a moment and quickly stammered out, "N-not that I opened the vault myself! I didn't! Why would I want to rob my own bank? After this, nopony is going to trust this bank again!" He buried his face in his hooves, moaning as if in horrible pain. "I'm ruined!" Phil looked calmly down at the other pony, theories running through his mind, each one holding itself up for examination briefly before moving aside for the next. Details and clues mapped themselves across his psyche, connections drawing between them like a spider-web. And that was when he found he was missing something. "Zugzwang left behind a business card, you said?" The manager nodded, but did not raise his head. "Do you still have it or did you give it to the Guards?" "I threw it out," the manager mumbled through his hooves. "But you can have it if you want." Lowering one hoof so that he could see, he lit up his horn with a watery green glow. The desk drawer opened and the business card floated out into Phillip's waiting hoof. He exited the office, examining the card. This was recently made: the ink was still fresh. The chess club had an address on the southern side of Manehattan. Frowning, Phillip flipped it over and examined the blank back. There was nothing written there. No, that couldn't be right. Zugzwang had left it there on purpose, counting on it being found. There had to be something there, something he couldn't see. That's when a scent caught his nose. The scent of lemon juice. Taking out his lighter, Phillip flicked it open and held the card up to the flame. After a moment, the heat brought the invisible ink to light. "Tomorrow at 9:30. What can you add to the number one to make it disappear?" Phil glanced at his watch. It was 1:30 PM. He had enough time to question the warden at the Jail, do some scouting and find a disguise. One of those theories was starting to look more likely by the moment. Author's Note The second part of the new story. Things are moving along a rapid pace...maybe a bit too rapid? Tell me what you think?
Part 3: The AuctionThe Discover Check Chess Club was a small establishment, but the building itself seemed to exude an almost hubris-like pride, standing proud and gleaming on its own block, apart from the strip malls that surrounded it. Even the wooden sign that hung outside the door, swinging in the breeze, seemed to carry a certain arrogance to it. It was 9:15 and a unicorn with dark brown fur and long blue mane with pencil-thin mustache strode into the club. He wore a gray business suit and tie and thick glasses that magnified his angry blue eyes. His cutie mark was a golden bit and a pair of diamonds. The club was filled with several chess tables, at which several couples and groups sat, playing chess on polished boards and drinking sparkling champagne and fancy hors d'oeuvres served to them by uniformed waiters. A crystal chandelier cast the whole room in light and an antique phonograph in the corner was playing Beethoofen. Ignoring all this, the suited unicorn walked into the back of the room, going past the restrooms and up to a door that read "Employees Only." He knocked at the door and the sign slid backwards, revealing a pair of green eyes glaring at him suspiciously. "Passphrase," a voice grunted from the other side of the door, muffled by the soundproofing spell. "Add a G to it and it's 'gone,'" the unicorn grunted back, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous riddle. What was it with Zugzwang and riddles? The jerk was probably just trying to prove how smart he was. The door unlocked and swung open, permitting the visitor entrance to the private room. Here there were several low tables, each sitting one. A hanging lamp in the center of the room provided inadequate lighting, casting everything into shadow. A small stage was set up at the front of the room, shielded by a velvet curtain. Most of the other tables were already occupied by other ponies, all of whom turned and glared at the new entrant suspiciously. Even in the shadowy lighting, he recognized them all: representatives from the Canter Nostra, the Japonese Yakuza, the Sinalope cartel, the Mareish Mob...there was even a griffon that bore the tattoos of a Griffon Mafia enforcer and a heavily scarred zebra that was no doubt sent from the zebra militias. Members of every major and a few minor criminal organizations in Equestria, and some beyond. This was a terrible idea. Every single one of the guests in this room almost certainly had a very good reason to hate all of the others. The room had turned into a tinderbox, and judging by the furtive glances, tight jaws and twitching hooves, it wasn't going to be long before some idiot set a spark. Slowly, the unicorn took a seat at a free table, glancing around at everypony else as he settled into the cushioned chair. The guard shut the door and locked it behind him. The minutes ticked by in total, tense silence, nopony daring to move or to look at one another. Finally, at 9:30 precisely, the curtains on the stage swept open to reveal Zugzwang. He was sitting in the midst of a stage, backlit by a lamp that cast most of his body and his face into shadow, but allowed enough light to make him recognizable, even without the scent of Saddle Arabian tobacco wafting from the cigarette in his mouth. Every head turned to face him. "Mein freunde," Zugzwang spoke, looking around at them all. "It's good to see you all here. Now, you all know why you're here." He paused for a moment, puffing on the cigarette. "You all wish to bid on the secret to my recent miracle. You all want to know the spell that allows one to open any lock. You all want to be the ones with the power to get into anything, go anywhere you please. And you—or, at the very least, your masters—are all willing to pay dearly for it...even kill for it, judging by the fact that all of you are armed. "So, we shall start the bidding soon, as it would be unwise for you gentleponies to be left in the same room for too long. But before we start, some entertainment. It seems we have an uninvited guest." Zugzwang's shadowy head turned to face the unicorn in the back. Like puppets on a string, every head turned to follow his gaze. "Mr. Finder, why don't you take off that silly disguise and join us as you are?" For a moment, the gray-suited unicorn did not react, looking around the room to see that everypony was staring back at him with growing comprehension and hatred in their eyes. "Damn," he muttered and sprang into action. Reaching into his suit, he pulled out a boomerang and tossed it at the guard, stunning him and preventing him from drawing the pistol from his concealed shoulder holster. In the same movement, Phillip grabbed the chair he was sitting on and tossed it at the griffon's head, making direct contact and knocking him flat. As one, the other ponies surged to their hooves and charged at him. Overturning the table to slow them down, Phillip ran back at the wall. At the last moment, he leapt up, kicked off the wall, and seized the hanging lamp. With a groan, the lamp chain broken, bringing the heavy weight down on the heads of several of his attackers, knocking them all out. The remaining thugs all leapt at him, but he rolled, twisted and dodged, avoiding every attack and striking back with powerful counters to the most vulnerable targets. Blows resounded throw the room, mixing with the crashing of tables and oaths and curses of combat. One by one, the bodies fell until it was only the zebra remaining, grappling with him in the center of the room. He seized Phillip by the collar and made to strike him, but Phillip headbutted him in the nose, trapped his hoof, and twisted his body to throw him to the ground, breaking his elbow as he did so. The zebra's cry of pain was cut short by Phillip's knee striking him in temple. "Ah, alone at last," Zugzwang said, a faint trace of amusement in his voice as he watched Phillip doff his disguise, removing the false cutie mark, fake horn, wig and mustache, and glasses and contacts. "Did you like my riddle, liebling?" "You just couldn't resist being clever, could you?" Phillip growled. Keeping his voice even and refraining from attacking right away took a great effort: he was, once again, face to face with the pony who had threatened to destroy everything and everypony he loved. Only the knowledge that he was probably protected against attack in some way prevented him from leaping up onto the stage and crushing his skull. "It amuses me to see these donkeys stumbling over the simplest of problems," Zugzwang replied, his eyes obscured by shadows as he stared back at Phillip. "Speaking of which, you no doubt know how I managed to open the vault and the jail cells?" "Not with a spell," Phillip replied. "Through simple blackmail. Both the bank manager and the warden have a child at the PCRTC: they were both wearing wristbands. They were the ones who opened the vault and the jail doors, because you have somepony working for you at the center, somepony who will kill their children if they disobeyed." Zugzwang chuckled, a short, humorless exhalation that sent chills up Phillip's spine. "Very, very good, Phillip. Yes, indeed, there is somepony among the fine doctors and nurses there, a cold-blooded killer who works for me, who today will be lurking nearby two of your closest friends." Flash and Twilight, Phillip thought, struggling not to reveal any emotion, not a trace of concern or fear. Out loud, he said in his lowest voice that rumbled like thunder, "If you hurt them, I'll kill you." "Afraid you're going to lose them like your people, Phil?" Zugzwang replied, obviously not intimidated in the slightest. "Worried that you'll fail them like you failed your father?" Phillip froze up, his expression changing to resemble somepony who had just been hit in the face with a sledgehammer. The cruel words echoed in his mind, silencing every other thought. "It's true, mein liebling," Zugzwang continued, the unseen smile evident in his mocking tone. "I know everything about you. And not unlike the child who peeks at his Hearth's Warming presents, I have to say, the truth is sadly anticlimactic. Beneath that cold demeanor, behind the stern facade, you're just a little colt playing detective, crying over daddy." He snorted, puffing smoke out of his shaded lips. "I can't decide if that's the funniest thing I've ever heard or the most pathetic. Either way, thinking about you wailing over your father's corpse always brings a smile to my face." Some sort of explosion took place in Phillip's brain, rage rushing upwards and spurring him to move. With a snarl, he leapt up onto the stage, seizing Zugzwang by the collar. Instantly, he froze, staring in disbelief. Proximity had revealed what the shadows had hidden: the pony on stage was nothing more than a dummy. Its blank gaze and idiotic smile mocked the horrified detective. "You're very, very clever, Phillip," Zugzwang's voice spoke out of the concealed speaker in the dummy's chest. It was as light and even as before, but it carried a chilling darkness in it now. "I was so hoping you would be here. Because now it means that I get to teach you a lesson about what happens to ponies who get in my way." An acrid scent assault Phillip's nostrils. A poison gas was spreading into the room, seeping in from concealed vents in the ceiling. Coughing, Phillip leapt off the stage and sprinted towards the door. He made it halfway before his knees gave out, sending him to the floor. Choking, he struggled back up and began to crawl desperately towards the door, using every ounce of willpower into moving one hoof before the next. But the gas was too strong. Phillip collapsed to the floor inches from the door. His eyelids wavered as he fought a losing battle against sleep. The very last image that flickered through his mind was Flash, lying dead on the floor, staring sightlessly upward. And then the darkness claimed him. Author's Note In which things go from bad to worse.
Part 4: Murder in the HospitalSometimes Flash really hated being a Guard. Every time he put on the armor, and sometimes after he took it off, he found it impossible to just relax. Everywhere he went, he was constantly looking around, noticing entrances and exits, lines of fires, potential hazards...taking a mental catalog of everything he saw, heard, smelled, tasted and felt. Sometimes, he could only see other ponies as either "threat" or "non threat," as if the armor included some sort of glasses that filtered his vision. Like here, standing in the lounge of the Ponyville Cancer Research and Treatment Center, examining everything and everypony who had gathered here for Twilight's opening speech. The doctor standing on the other side of Twilight at the podium: earth pony, male, middle aged. Relaxed posture, no sign of nervousness or concealed weapon. Non threat. The assistant doctor next to him. Pegasus, male, early thirties. Slightly tense body posture, looking away. Adjusting the sleeve of his white coat to cover a strangely familiar faded tattoo on his foreleg. Possible threat. The janitor on the other side of the room, wheeling up to a desk and bending over a clipboard, signing on with his left hoof. Unicorn, uninterested, bored expression. Non threat. The little foals and fillies that stood before Twilight, gazing up at her in awe and delight, hanging onto her every praising word. Non threats. That's all he saw them as. Twilight was just finishing up her speech opening the new children's wing and declaring her hope that the research that would take place within would one day unlock a cure for cancer. The entire audience burst into applause, stamping their hooves against the tiled floor in delight. Everypony except him, standing stern sentinel next to the Princess. This was a happy occasion, darn it all: why couldn't he be happy and enjoy time with his marefriend? "Thank you for your kind words, Princess Twilight," Doctor Caduceus said. An earth pony with a blue mane, graying at the temples, and kindly blue eyes, his cutie mark was a golden caduceus that stood out against his brown coat. He took Twilight's place at the podium, looking out into the crowd of patients and fellow doctors. "We should all be very thankful for Princess Twilight's continued support, for without her, none of this would be possible. So let's have another round of applause for her, and for everypony who continues to aid us in our battle against cancer!" There was another round of applause. Flushed with embarrassment at the praise, Twilight shifted slightly, her wings fluttering against her sides. Flash had to force back a smile at the cuteness. He couldn't afford to break character, not in public. "Excuse me," a voice said from behind him. Turning, Flash saw a messenger pony holding a telegram in his mouth. "Message for Corporal Sentry." "Can it wait?" Flash asked. His question, however, was quickly answered by the bright red "URGENT" stamped on the envelope. Flash took the telegram, opened it up and read the brief message inside. "Somepony at PCRTC works for Z. Threatens patients, blackmailed bank manager and jail warden. You need to find him. Phil." Slowly, internalizing his racing thoughts and chilling emotions to avoid giving anything away, Flash looked up and scanned the room. Doctor Cadaceus was still speaking to Princess Twilight. His assistant doctor was standing next to him moodily, seemingly unable to meet Princess Twilight's gaze. A group of doctors and nurses, clad in white coats, was now shepherding the children into the new wing, taking them to their new beds or off to a treatment room. Support staff, clerks, secretaries and janitors mingled in the crowd. In Flash's vision, every single one of them had suddenly become "possible threat." Forcing himself to move calmly, he walked to Twilight's side, gently pulling her aside. "Flash!" Twilight protested. "I'm in the middle of—" "I need to get you out of here," Flash whispered into her ear, showing her the telegram. Her lavender eyes widened in surprise as she scanned the message within, then panned over the foals and fillies. "We need to find him," she whispered back. "I need to find him. You need to get out of here," Flash hissed back, taking her hoof to guide her from the room. "No!" Twilight replied sharply, pulling her hoof from his grasp. "I'm not just some helpless damsel! These ponies are under my protection, too!" Flash hesitated. Twilight Sparkle was certainly no helpless damsel. She was the mare he loved with his whole heart, the light of his life. And she was currently willingly putting herself in the same building as a possible killer, because the ponies here were hers, under her protection as well as his. "Your Highness, is there a problem?" Doctor Caduceus asked, walking forward with the moody doctor at his side. Flash finally recognized his companion: Doctor Winged Cure, a white, green eyed and blonde maned pegasus with a cutie mark of a winged cross, the assistant head doctor of the research center. Twilight and Flash looked at one another for a moment, then Flash sighed through his nostrils and nodded subtly. "We need to speak to your staff members," Flash said. "We have reason to suspect that one of them might be involved in...er...criminal activity." "What?" Doctor Caduceus asked, his wrinkled eyes widening in horror. "How could you think that? Everypony here is dedicated to the health of these patients; they couldn't possibly—!" "Doctor, I'm sorry," Twilight said, stepping between the stallions. "This is just a suspicion. We'll just talk briefly to your staff members, just to check and make sure that everything's all right." Caduceus frowned, chewing on his lower lip. Winged Cure was shifting nervously, looking at everything and anything except Flash and Twilight. "Well, all right," Doctor Caduceus replied. "But I'm certain that nopony on this staff is a criminal." A muscle twitched in Flash's jaw and he glared at Winged Cure, who swallowed nervously, sensing his gaze. He had just remembered what that faded tattoo on his foreleg was, and what it meant. "And I believe you," Twilight said reassuringly. "But we do have to make sure." "What do you want to know?" Winged Cure muttered at Flash's knees. "Does the name Zugzwang mean anything to you?" "No. Should it?" Winged Cure replied, making eye contact for the first time, revealing a carefully constructed cool expression. Yet he could not control the nervous twitch of his tail, nor the way his knees were pointed towards the double doors leading into the children's wing, indicating a desire to leave as soon as possible. Flash maintained eye contact for a moment more, then stepped aside. "That'll do for now." The doctors left quickly, disappearing into the new wing. The double doors swung shut behind them. Behind the doors, the killer shifted uneasily. If the Guard was asking questions, that meant that they were onto them. It would only be a matter of time before they found him, and sent him away to prison. No! No, he wouldn't go back to prison, wouldn't go back to the stone and iron hell! Forget what Zugzwang told him. He needed to get those two out of the hospital now. "What was that look about?" Twilight asked Flash back in the lounge, giving him a scathing look. "You didn't see that old tattoo on Winged Cure's leg?" Flash asked. "I did. A skull with a snake coming out of the mouth. That's a Sinalope cartel tattoo." Twilight's eyes widened in horror. "No. He's not like that. I know him; he's kind, he's helpful, he truly cares about the patients—" "He was part of a gang that smuggles drugs and executes whole families," Flash said coldly. "I grew up with ponies like him in my neighborhood in Philly. Ponies like that don't change. Ever." "Ponies do change, Flash!" Twilight shouted back. "Winged Cure can't be Zugzwang's accomplice, he just can't!" Flash was just about to point out that at this point, he had to consider all the staff members a suspect, when a piercing scream rang through the hallways of the hospital. The two ran into the children's wing, passing crowds of frozen doctors and patients as they followed the echoes of the scream into a patient's room. A nurse was staring at a patient's bed, her hooves up to her mouth in horror. The small filly lying in the bed was dead, her blue eyes staring at the ceiling and her mouth hanging open in shock. A crimson bloodstain spread across her light blue shirt, upon which a note was lying. "BACK OFF OR MORE OF THEM DIE." "Why don't we just shoot him? "You know what the boss is like. Him and his games..." The voices sounded like they were coming from the bottom of a deep well, but they roused Phillip from his unconsciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was lying in a small, dark room, a dying glimmer of light from the closing door penetrating the room. In his few moments of visibility, he saw that the room's only contents were a table with two candles, an envelope and a red button. Then the metal door slammed shut with a crash. Shaking off the dizziness, Phillip got to his hooves and stumbled through the darkness to the door. Just to satisfy himself, he seized the handle and turned it, only to receive an electric shock that forced him back with a cry of pain. Rubbing life back into his foreleg, he turned then to the table. Taking his flashlight from his vest, he turned it on, illuminating the table and its strange contents. Taking the envelope, Phillip tore it open and examined the message within. Dear Phillip, I suppose you're wondering why you're still alive. Believe me, I was very tempted to just kill you while you were asleep. It would have saved us both a lot of trouble: we both know one of us is going to kill the other one day. But such a death was unworthy of both of us, Phillip. And besides, you're right: I really can't resist being clever. It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. That's why I'm so glad you came to my little party. It feels wonderful to have somepony who's both able and willing to play with me, and I don't want to lose that just yet. I can't let you leave and warn your friends just yet—you still have a lesson to learn, after all, about the necessity of sacrifice—but I will give you this chance to free yourself early. The two candles both burn out in an hour, but at uneven rates. When you push the red button, the door will unlock in 45 minutes for one minute before locking itself again. You'll notice that I have taken your watch. If you can figure out how to use these materials to get out, you'll be home free. If not, I'll let you out when I come to tell you that your friends are dead. Viel Glück, liebling! —Zugzwang Looking down at the two candles and the red button on the table, Phillip felt his pulse accelerate, both in anger and in fear. To Zugzwang, the lives of his friends and of his own were nothing more than a game; they were, to him, no more than chess pieces, to be manipulated as he saw fit and sacrificed whenever it suited him. And now Twilight and Flash could be sacrificed, just to prove a point. Why, why had he have to get involved? Why did he have to allow himself to be pulled into this sick, twisted game? No. Calm down. He had to focus. Solve the puzzle, get out of the room. Closing his eyes, Phillip exhaled a long, slow breath out of his nostrils, dispelling his storm of emotions and allowing his rational mind to take over. Staring down at the two candles, he began to imagine solutions. The game was far from over. Author's Note This is not good. (No, really, it's not good. I'm just struggling on at this point.)
Part 5: The Cowardly PawnBack at the Treatment Center, Flash and Twilight were standing in the room of the murdered filly, simply looking at one another in silent, numb horror. The corpse of the filly bore stark testimony to the presence of a monster amongst them. Outside the door, a small crowd of nurses and doctors were gathering, murmuring amongst themselves as they spread the terrible news. "How could this happen?" Twilight whispered, trembling, unable to look at the dead girl. "This is a hospital! This was supposed to be a safe place! And now there's a..." She couldn't bring herself to say it, to face the reality of what was happening. "Twilight, it's going to be all right," Flash whispered, touching her shoulder gently. It was only as the words came out of his mouth that he realized just how hollow and weak those words were. There was a murdered child here in the room with them, killed within feet of them. How could this possibly be all right? "Twilight, just try to calm down. If you freak out, everypony here is going to freak out." Realizing the truth of his words, Twilight swallowed, then closed her eyes. She took in a deep breath, raising a hoof, then exhaled slowly, extending her hoof out. When she opened her eyes again, it was with a calmer, but still distressed expression. "I'm going to do everything I can to catch this guy," Flash said. "Try to keep everypony else calm in the meantime." "How do you deal with this?" Twilight asked him softly, glancing at the victim. Flash sighed. This was not natural, being able to numb oneself to pain and death. It wasn't right, having to be somepony who could handle something as insane as the murder of a child. "Because it's my job," he replied. Giving Twilight a brief, reassuring smile and rub on the shoulder, he reluctantly turned from her and bent over the victim. The filly had sunshine yellow fur and grass green eyes. She was bald—no doubt a result of chemotherapy—but her tail was the same color as her eyes. Her name was Golden Dawn, according to the medical sheets attached to the foot of her bed, had been stabbed once in the chest. The wound was small, but the blade had punctured near her heart. Death had been almost instantaneous: the type of wound inflicted by an experienced killer. The wound was not ragged, indicating that she had not struggled or fought back. This had been somepony she trusted. His jaw clenched. An image burned in Flash's mind: Doctor Winged Cure, entering the room, with a false, sweet smile on his face. He would have asked Golden how she was, if she needed anything as he approached her. She would never have suspected anything. She would have happily let him get within reach, only realizing something was wrong when his smile became something different: something colder, darker, victorious. That was when he would have pulled the knife out of his pocket and— All at once, the voice of his instructor at the Investigative Division Academy rang through his head: "The biggest mistake an Investigator can make is to make theories before they have evidence. You end up twisting the facts to support your theory instead of adjusting your theory to support the facts." There was nothing here to suggest that Winged Cure had done this. It slowly dawned on Flash that he was allowing his own emotions, his own hatred of the criminal gangs that had littered the neighborhoods of his foalhood home, to dictate his actions. When he had completed training at the Investigative Academy, he had taken a vow that he would pursue justice, not a conviction. This filly deserved justice, not a blind avenger. Closing his eyes, Flash took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, extending his hoof out in front of him as he exhaled. The calming technique, he found, was very effective. Opening his eyes, he began to examine the scene again with fresher eyes. His attention turned to the note left on the body. Scrawled quickly with a pencil on a spare sheet of paper. Frowning, Flash took a folding magnifying glass out of one of the pockets in his armor and began to scan the letter more closely, studying the writing. Odd: the words slanted slightly to the left slightly. A sure sign of a left-hooved writer. Something clicked in Flash's mind. Going back out into the hall, he examined the floor. Curiouser and curiouser... "What is it?" Twilight asked Flash, who was staring at the floor. "I think I might have an idea," Flash said, recalling the janitor he had seen earlier, how he had spun the clipboard towards him and written with his left hoof. "You see how the floor up to the door is cleaned, but not the floor after that?" "That's strange," Twilight said, peering at the tiled floor. "It looks like the janitor came up to the door, and then just left." Flash traced the cleaned floor with his hoof, noting that it was dry, but not too dry. "Did you see the janitor anywhere near here when we came up?" "No," Twilight replied, beginning to get Flash's idea. "You think that it was the janitor?" "The note was written by a left-hooved pony," Flash said. "I saw a janitor earlier writing with his left hoof." He turned to the nurse who had discovered the body. She was still sitting on a bench on the hallway outside, her head in her hooves. It had only been recently that she had managed to stop shaking. "Nurse Lilac?" Twilight asked softly. Nurse Lilac looked up, her white-blue eyes still shiny with tears. "We need to ask you one question. Is that all right?" Lilac swallowed and nodded, sitting up straighter. "There's a janitor who works here," Flash said. "Male unicorn, dark brown coat, silvery-blonde mane, cutie mark of a mop and a broom." Lilac thought for a moment, then spoke in a soft voice like a wind through a field of flowers. "That's Wax Buffer. He's worked for us about a year now. He's always kept to himself, but we've never had any trouble with him. Is he...?" "I just want to talk to him, that's all," Flash said reassuringly. "Do you know where he might be?" "I'd check down in the laundry room," Lilac said. "It's on the bottom floor of the building. He likes to sit down there during his breaks." "Thank you, Nurse Lilac," Flash said, a feeling of calm focus, of controlled fury spreading throughout his body. With a heavy determination in his step, he turned from her to walk down the hallway and immediately slipped on a wet spot and fell to the floor with a loud crash of armor. Unable to help themselves, Twilight and Lilac both collapsed into fits of giggles as Flash struggled back to his hooves. "Come on, Princess," Flash muttered gruffly, adjusting his helmet. Still giggling, Twilight led him towards the stairs. The two of them started down the winding staircase, their hoofsteps echoing off the stone walls. "Are you really sure you want to do this?" Flash muttered to Twilight. Twilight gave him an irritated look over her shoulder. "Flash, I told you, I'm not just a helpless damsel. I have as much interest in catching this murderer as you, and I don't need you hovering over me the whole time!" "I..." Flash sighed. "You're right, Twilight. I just...I just want you to be safe." Subconsciously, his hoof reached up and stroked a small red scar on his cheek. Seeing this, Twilight's expression instantly softened as she remembered how he had gotten that scar: protecting her. "And I appreciate that, I really do," she said, taking his hoof in her own and pulling him in close. "I just wish you weren't so paranoid sometimes." "It's my job to be paranoid about you," Flash said, squeezing her hoof. "As both your Guard and your coltfriend." She smiled back and pulled him in, pressing his lips against hers. He started a little, then closed his eyes, relaxing into her embrace. For a moment, there was no threat, no danger, nothing in the world but her, and the sweet smell of honeysuckle in her mane... But then he pulled away, back into the real world, and there was still a dead filly above them and a murder suspect beneath them. "Come on," he said, guiding Twilight back down the stairs. At the bottom, they encountered a door labeled "Laundry." Pushing through it, the two ponies entered a large room filled with washing machines, conveyer belts and pipes as big around as a pony's head. Sheets and clothing spilled out of hampers or were stacked on top of the machines. "Stick close to me," Flash said, putting himself close to Twilight's side as he scanned the rows for any sign of anypony. "We do have one advantage here." "What's that?" Twilight asked. "This killer is a coward," Flash snarled, walking forward, his eyes scanning from side to side. "We are the target, but he killed a defenseless child instead and expected that to make us back off." Step by step, the two plunged deeper into the maze, their hoofsteps mixing with the whirring of machines, gurgling of water and hissing of pipes. Hidden from their view, Wax Buffer looked up from the little corner that he had been hiding in, the sound of hoofsteps pulling him from the brief heaven that he had built for himself from pills stolen from the pharmacy. His eyes widened in horror when he saw who it was: the Guard and the Princess! They had come for him, come to take him away to prison! Breathing heavily, he ducked back beneath the machines, pulling the small blade out of his pocket, the blade that had been meant to be used to kill them both. But Buffer was no fool: killing sick foals was one thing, but he knew that he had no chance of following his master's orders on this occasion, not on his own. All he had been able to do was try to force them to back away, give him room to escape, and go to his master to beg his forgiveness and help. But if he was backed into a corner...there was no way he was going back to hell. Quietly, he tried to sneak away, creeping through the rows away from his hunters. Frowning, Flash lifted up off the ground slightly, hovering in midair to examine the room from his upper perspective. A tangled maze of metal stretched in every direction. He sighed in frustration. "We'll never find him like this. Twilight, do you have any ideas?" "There is a new spell I've been practicing," Twilight said. She widened her stance slightly, standing straight and tall. Taking in a deep breath, she slowly expelled the air from her lungs as she shut her eyes. Her horn lit up, sending out pulses of magenta energy through the air. A moment later, the ghostly image of hoofprints appeared on the floor before them. "Somepony passed by here recently," Twilight said, following the trail. Flash flew close above her, still scanning ahead for any sign of danger. The glowing trail of hoofprints twisted and turned, winding past humming machinery and following low-hanging pipes that hissed and gurgled ominously, as if trying to warn the ponies of the danger ahead. Ignoring the warnings, the two followed the trail wherever it led, hurrying faster and faster as urgency filled their veins. Finally, the trail stopped underneath a wide table laden with dirty sheets. "I know you're under there," Flash called. "Come on out slowly." A pair of hooves appeared from underneath the table. "I'm sorry, sir! I know it's not my break time, but..." It was not Wax Buffer underneath the table, but a young earth pony nurse, looking at his bewildered captors with an expression of dawning comprehension. "Oh, you're not one of the doctors," he sighed with relief, climbing out from his hiding place and dusting himself off. "I'm just hid...er, resting down here. Been on my hooves for hours, you know how it is..." Behind them all, crouching behind a hamper, Wax Buffer spun the blade in his hooves. His two targets were right within reach, neither aware of his presence. He could strike now, while their guard was down, and get at least one of them. A quick slice to the kidney, and they would bleed to death in thirty seconds... But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was certain that even if he got one, the other would catch him, and they would certainly throw him into the deepest, darkest hole they could find, from which he could never climb out. No! He wouldn't get caught! He had to get out, get away! And in his panicked insanity, a desperate plan came to his mind. Leaping from his hiding place, he sprinted forward and, before anypony could figure out what was happening, seized the nurse and placed his blade to his throat. "Get back!" he shouted at the other two, pulling his hostage away. "Let him go!" Flash shouted, his venomous glare almost terrifying Buffer into obeying until he remembered that as long as he had the hostage, he was in control. "Now, listen," Buffer said, pressing his knife closer to the neck of the trembling nurse. "I'm going to walk out of here, and you're going to stay here. If I see you try to follow me—" But what he would do if he saw anypony following him, he never got to say, because at that moment, somepony flew out of nowhere and seized the knife in his hoof, trying to pull it away. "Doctor, no!" Twilight shouted in alarm. There was a flash of scarlet and a cry of pain, and the next moment, Doctor Winged Cure was lying on the floor, clutching his bleeding stomach, and Wax Buffer was sprinting away. For a moment, Flash could only stare in disbelief. While he clutched at the wound, Winged Cure's sleeve had come undone, revealing the faded gang tattoo. That mark defined him, showed them all who he was. And yet, he had acted to defend another, without heed to his own safety. Had he been wrong? "Flash!" Twilight's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Twilight bent over the doctor, using her magic to try to stem the bleeding. "Go get after him!" Spurred to action, Flash spread his wings and took to flight, soaring low over the ground after the murderer. Wax Buffer zigged and zagged, using his magic to topple appliances and fling piles of linen in his path to try to slow down his pursuer, but it was no use: Flash dodged everything, closing in with every passing second. Panting, Buffer leapt over an ironing table and turned left. The door was just up ahead. He was doing it, he was getting away—! He skidded to a halt, all of his worst fears coming true at once. He'd taken the wrong turn: right in front of him was a solid brick wall, having seemingly popped up out of nowhere to mock his plight, his cowardice. With a fluttering of wings, Flash landed behind him, spreading his wings out to block the way. "There's no way out," he ordered. "Drop the knife and give up." Slowly, Wax Buffer turned around, his chest heaving. He faced Flash, his eyes glinting with the fierce desperation of a trapped animal. With a roar, he raised the blade and charged forward, bringing it down at his pursuer's head. Calmly, Flash dodged the attack, seized Buffer's hoof, kicked him in the shin, and twisted his foreleg hard to bring him down to the concrete floor. A final blow to the head knocked him out entirely. Panting heavily, Flash looked down at the unconscious killer at his hooves. He should have felt better: the criminal was caught, Twilight was safe, justice was served. But even this would not bring back the murdered child or the Guard who Zugzwang had killed. Their deaths left a bitter taste in Flash's mouth, one that he knew nothing would truly wash away. It was the life he had chosen, the burden he had undertaken. Most other ponies should be thankful that it was not theirs. The sound of pounding hoofsteps brought him out of his reverie. Looking up, he saw a group of armored Royal Guards trooping into the room. At their head, gray eyes narrowed and tense, was Phillip Finder, who sprinted up to Flash. "You okay?" he said, panting. "Is Twilight okay?" "We're both fine," Flash replied, noting the uncharacteristic tenseness in Phillip's voice and body language. Phillip looked down at Buffer as if just noticing that he was there. "Is that him? That Zugzwang's spy?" "That's him," Flash said, giving his prisoner a cold glare. For a moment, Phillip looked at Flash, his expression blank and unreadable, then he gripped his shoulders with his hooves, a grin spreading across his face. "Ripper," he said. "You did good, Flash." Flash grinned back at the unexpected praise, realizing just how glad both of them were to see each other again. But then the moment passed, and Phillip's face became impassive once more. Turning to the Guards behind him, he said, "All right, lads. Take him away." The Guards stepped forward and shackled the groaning Wax Buffer, lifting him to his hooves and carting him away. Author's Note Finally got this done! We'll wrap up this little number in the next chapter.
Part 6: The Game ContinuesLater, the squads of Royal Guards were completing the post-investigation. Pairs of Guards questioned the doctors and employees. Wax Buffer, his head bowed in shame, was led into an armored carriage and flown away to jail. As the carriage lifted off, another group of Guards emerged from the hospital, clustered tightly around a stretcher, trying to hide a small body bag from view. Flash watched them move quickly across the ground and tenderly place the bag into an ambulance carriage, which took off without hurry. He sighed softly, lowering his head in grief. Then he felt a touch on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Twilight giving him a tender look, leaning in to nuzzle him gently, attempting to comfort him. "I'm fine," he lied, leaning into Twilight's touch. "You can't just focus on the bad all the time, Flash," Twilight whispered into his ears, and that was when he realized that she was struggling to cope as well. But she was still willing to stand by him, support him. And he would do the same for her. It was what friends did. There was a clattering and voices from the front of the Center, and Flash's attention was attracted to a pair of paramedics carrying a stretcher bearing the wounded Doctor Winged Cure towards another ambulance. "Wait," he called to the paramedics, striding to the doctor's side. For a moment, Flash's eyes were drawn to the foreleg that bore the gang tattoo, but then he made eye contact with the pegasus. "You going to be okay?" he asked. Winged Cure hissed in a little breath and managed a small grin. "It's not serious. I'll be okay." "Why'd you jump in like that?" Winged Cure's face fell slightly. "I came down looking for you, and when I saw him holding that knife to that pony's throat...I couldn't just stand by and let him get hurt." The marked foreleg flexed slightly. "Not like what..." He caught himself, then corrected, "Because I'm a doctor." Flash stared at him for a moment, processing what he had said, what he had done. Then, with a smile, he held out his hoof. "Thank you, doctor." Winged Cure smiled back and shook Flash's hoof before he was carted away to the ambulance. Twilight gave Flash an approving smile as he turned back to her. "I was wrong," he admitted. "Ponies can change." The two of them turned now to Phillip, who was sitting off by himself, looking unusually tired. He had already explained how he had infiltrated the auction and fallen into Zugzwang's trap before Twilight and Flash were called away. "So how did you get out of that room?" Twilight asked. Phillip looked up. "It took me a while to figure it out, but once I did, it was simple. Both candles would burn out in an hour. I lit the first candle at both ends, and the second at just one. When the first candle completely melted, half an hour had passed. At that point, I lit the second candle at the other end. When that melted away, 45 minutes had passed, and I was able to open the door and escape. Then I got the Guard and hurried here." He paused, then swallowed softly and glanced down. "Flash...Twilight...Zugzwang told me that he was going to kill you two to teach me a lesson." "You don't need to feel responsible for us, Phil," Flash said. "We're fighting with you, not for you, remember?" Phillip smiled softly. "It's good to see you again." Spreading his forelegs, Flash moved forward for an embrace, but was immediately rebuffed. "What did I say about hugging?" "Sorry." Many hours later, after night had fallen across Equestria, Wax Buffer lay awake in his cell at Canterlot Jail, struggling to get comfortable on one of the hard, itchy cots. Fear prickled at his mind. Surely Zugzwang knew that he had failed. Or had he not expected him to succeed in the first place? Had his order to murder the Guard and the Princess been a test? And what did it mean now that he had failed? That was when he heard hoofsteps approaching, and the rattling of chains. Looking up, he saw that all his worst nightmares had come true. A pair of Guards were walking down the hallway, a shackled prisoner between them. "Caught him at the train station, trying to head for Baltimare," one of them said to the other as they reached Buffer's cell. Shivering, Wax Buffer crawled into the furthest corner, his widened eyes fixed on his new cellmate. Zugzwang kept his eyes on his failed pawn as one of the Guards removed his shackles before backing out, leaving the magical restraint ring on, and locking the door behind him, his face stony and impassive. The two Guards remained for a moment longer, then stepped away. It was only after their hoofsteps faded away that Zugzwang spoke, his voice cold and hard as ice. "I'm disappointed in you," he said to Wax Buffer, still cowering in the corner. "Sir, please—" "Silence." Wax Buffer was struck dumb and still, left to silently pray for his master's mercy. "Weak-minded as you are, your brain addled by the pills you swallow like candy, I thought you had proven your loyalty and usefulness to me. That was why I made you the key to my plan. "And yet, when the time came, when I told you to kill Princess Sparkle and Corporal Sentry, you disobeyed me. You forgot what you were: a pawn, a piece to be controlled and maneuvered as I see fit. When I give you an order, you obey without question, without doubt, without thought to yourself or whether you might be caught." He took a single step towards his terrified servant, who quailed under the imperious look he was giving him. "You put your faith in me, and me alone. I am your master. I am your commander. I am your god." He leaned down and spoke in a low, venomous hiss. "Do you understand the weight of the sins you have committed against me?" "Yes! Yes, master! I'm sorry!" Wax Buffer cried, flinging himself at Zugzwang's hooves. "Please forgive me!" There was a long silence, the weight of which hung over Wax Buffer's head like a sword blade. Finally, Zugzwang let out a small sigh. "You are forgiven. Perhaps some of the fault lies with me; I overestimated your capabilities." Hardly daring to believe what he was hearing, Wax Buffer was able to look up. "So...you're not going to kill me now?" Zugzwang stared down at him for a moment longer, then spoke with no change in his voice or face. "No, I'm not going to kill you now." Buffer sighed in relief, feeling the weight removed from over him. "I killed you several hours ago, when you ate your dinner," Zugzwang continued, still in that same chilling monotone. "A small pill of strychnine with a protein shell concealed in your stew. As I speak, the enzymes in your stomach are breaking down the shell and releasing the poison into your bloodstream. I realize you had hoped for forgiveness, but unfortunately for you, I have a point to make." A chill spread throughout Wax Buffer's body. "No, master, please—" His voice was suddenly cut off when a constricting feeling spread across his chest, cutting off his breathing. His jaw clamped shut, pain spreading across his face. Convulsions began to spread across his body as if he was being shocked, becoming worse and worse with every passing second until Buffer was sprawled across the ground, his back arched and limbs violently twitching like a dying insect, his face growing steadily bluer as he slowly suffocated. Zugzwang sat up on the other cot, watching impassively as his pawn died, silently screaming in agony. Once the twitching finally stopped, Zugzwang turned away and closed his eyes. He imagined a great chessboard, large as the nation itself, spread out before him, noting the position of the pieces. He thought of the pieces that he had sacrificed tonight, and the ones that he had already placed, ready for his next move. He thought of Twilight and Flash, two pieces whose power he had evidently underestimated. He would have to keep an eye on them in the future. And then he thought of him. He pictured him, sitting on the other side of the board, brow furrowed as he pondered his next move, wondering what might happen next. His rival, his equal, his opponent. His purpose. Zugzwang thought of Phillip Finder and smiled. This game was just getting started. TO BE CONTINUED Author's Note That's the end of this story...and the beginning of the next! I can't wait to start the next one, and I hope that you've enjoyed this story and are looking forward to the continuing adventures of Phillip Finder!
Chapter notesPart 1 —This story was partially inspired by the Sherlock episode The Reichenbach Fall. —Discover Check Chess Club: a discover check is when a piece moves aside to get out of the way of a rook, bishop or queen, placing the king in check. —"Wunderbar": German, "wonderful." —"dummkopf": German, "idiot." —Zugzwang's concealed blade in his sleeve is inspired by the Assassin's Creed video games. —"schweinhund": German insult, literally translates to "pig-dog." Part 2 —Lemon juice is a common invisible ink. It becomes visible when exposed to heat. Part 3 —Beethoofen: play on Beethoven, a German composer. —Canter Nostra: play on Cosa Nostra, the proper name for the Italian Mafia. —Japonese Yakuza: reference to the real-life Japanese Yakuza organized crime groups. —Sinalope cartel: play on the Mexican Sinaloa drug cartel. —Mareish Mob: play on the Irish Mob. —"Mein freunds": German, "my friends." —"liebling": German, "darling." —Zugzwang revealing that he knows about Phillip's past is similar to the scene in Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker in which Joker reveals that he knows Batman's identity. Part 4 —A caduceus is a winged staff with a pair of serpents, a symbol of the Greek god Hermes, and often incorrectly identified as a symbol of medicine and doctors. —Winged Cure's tattoo bears a similarity to the Dark Mark worn by the Death Eaters in the Harry Potter series. —In the Phillipverse, Flash Sentry grew up in the crime-ridden slums of Fillydelphia. —"we both know one of us is going to kill the other one day:" the only way Phillip and Zugzwang's relationship can end. —"Viel Glück, liebling!:" German, "good luck, darling!" Part 5 —"The biggest mistake an Investigator can make is to make theories before they have evidence. You end up twisting the facts to support your theory instead of adjusting your theory to support the facts.": paraphrasing Sherlock Holmes in A Scandal In Bohemia. —Curiouser and curiouser...: reference to Alice in Wonderland. —Flash's scar is from an injury in a previous story, Secret of the Mare Lisa. —"Ripper.": Australian slang, "great!" Part 6 —Strychnine is a poison, often used in rat toxins, that causes violent muscle spasms and respiratory paralysis. It's a slow, agonizing way to die. —Zugzwang's final thoughts reflect his obsession with Phillip. Author's Note Chapter notes from the story.
