The agency of doors

Fire and brimstone rained down as the world erupted in cataclysmic fervor. Creatures of fire did battle with creatures of fire as one poured from the earth while the other poured from heaven. Amidst the hell and misery and pain four warriors stood. They fought along side each other. Not for the ones bound to the earth, nor for the ones on high from the heavens. Mortals, yet not. Gods in their own right, yet belittled and scorned by their supernatural peers. They fought for one another, brothers in arms at the eve of the world. Fighting in a square so that each covered the other's back. One in particular stood out, a figured covered head to toe in black. He who swung his scythe. He who fought like a cornered beast. He was vicious. Swinging and cutting and loping and driving and stabbing and ravaging and killing. He and his brother, another clad all in shining bronze armor with two Xiphos' and a blood red plume atop his head broke from their two brothers and into the tide of bodies. Cutting and weaving. Ducking and launching. Snarling and spitting and killing and screaming and smiling and laughing savagely.

Eventually, the one in black bellowed as he summoned forth a column of darkness from the defiled ground. Thrusting his arms skyward, he drove the column into the bodies. Those of heaven and earth died as the darkness choked them and snuffed their lives. Turning fire to mere cinder.

**"LOOK UPON ME AND WEEP!""FOR I AM THE ONCOMING STORM. I AM THE HAND THAT BRINGS DOWN THE GREAT. I AM THE GREAT HUNTER. I AM INDOMITABLE!* "*

I

AM"-

~~~~

It was very early in the morning.

The mist rolled by like a silent serpent. Slithering through the undergrowth and through the waking city. Already she could hear the sound of merchants setting up shop, conversing with one another as they prepared themselves for the screaming, bargaining, and selling that came with daily life.

In front of her, sitting on a stool, was her former student turned detective for hire.

"Any word on the manhunts around the Wharf or Quay districts?" Asked the monarch, delicately taking a sip of Ginseng tea as she enjoyed the feel of morning time. A soft wind blew threw the gargantuan windows of the throne room, cold enough to nip, yet not enough to truly chill. Sighing, Twilight levitated the Calabash pipe to take a sip of her rapidly cooling tea.

"It was reported that there had been a tussle down on Mackle Place near the docking and decommissioning yards." Responded Twilight, pausing as she gathered her thoughts. "There were no witnesses, but I did find trace amounts of blood around the Wharf." Twilight stiffened as she gave Celestia a level stare. "It was them again. I ran a recollection spell on those blood samples. They came from the woman, the Lou-Garou."

Celestia sighed deeply, letting the tension loose. "Celestia, they are not to be trifled with. This group of....thieves and liars, they may act good, they may do good. But when all is said and done, and your staring at what remains of your life, that's when they strike.

"And how do they strike?"

"By stealing your soul." Celestia's eyes widened fractionally at the grim news.

"How so?" She asked politely. Taking another sip of tea to stall any refocusing of issues. Twilight sighed so softly that it was barely audible as she got up and started pacing.

"Within every single being there is a residual energy that oozes out of their skin like oil. Now, it has no name because it is technically impossible. It's existence is technically a paradox. and revealing how, why, or what it is, could threaten your life. Therefore, we shall be using an alias for it; ectoplasm. Now, ectoplasm isn't in any book....well it is, but those are different books. The point is, no magical historian, archivist, magician, unicorn, warlock, or witch has ever written about it. But it's there. And anyone who even has a spark of magic in their vein can see it. Most learn to dampen it overtime until they only see it as a colored outline on a body. But no matter the case, it's always there." Twilight paused as Celestia quirked an eyebrow.

"So what does the 'ectoplasm' have anything to do with the recent rash of murders? And about this mysterious group you keep on about?" She asked, voice taking on a hint of sarcasm.

"In short? The bodies found at this 'mysterious group's last locations are missing any trace of it." Her voice fell flat as she gave the princess a plaintive stare.

"Couldn't the bodies have just been...oh I don't know...old? Couldn't the ectoplasm have evaporated naturally? The soul leaving the body so to speak?" She turned Twilight's flatness with her own joviality.

"No. It never does. This...thing..on the bodies of all biological things. It never leaves. Even when the person or pony or what have you dies, their bodies still contain a minuscule, yet visible amount of the stuff. I've carried out studies before, monitoring bodies in the morgue for upwards to a year to see if it fades or eventually vanishes. Nothing. Granted, the majority of the plasm does leave. But that trace outline remains. Glowing in whatever color it does." She stopped, staring at the princess expectantly.

"So....this means...what exactly?" The sovereign asked, confused as to the sudden conversational switch to the occult.

"This group, this...'Agency of Doors' as they call themselves. They showed up fifty years ago. And ever since then, the town's been different. Used to just be the small things. Reports of missing trinkets. Odds and ends. The occasional missing pet or upturned grave. I've been keeping track of them. All those reports and files and whatnots. I knew in my heart of hearts they were bad news. And I was right. Two months ago, a rash of murders began spreading from North New Vaudeville to the tip of the River Dames. And every single time. At all the crime scenes I've been too, I've either heard their names. Seen one or two of their members, or, at the worst of times, seen them actually touching the newly discovered body.  And it's been the case with every single incident. All the ponies and people found have died from lack of air. Yet there hasn't been any bruising to the neck, throat, lungs, heart, veins, and arteries. All of them have been found with their mouths hanging open in an 'O', almost as if they were sucking. And again, all of them are missing the background Ectoplasm."

Twilight finished, panting for breath.

"So. What do you want me to do about it?" Asked Celestia, returning Twilight's previous flat tone.

"Make them enemies of the public. Have a poster on every street corner, back alley, and window shop. Take every call related to them. Flush them out. And maybe then we can stop this murder spree."

~~~~~

The door burst open. On Saint Havrensburg Lane . In a small inconspicuous corner, a door burst open. "SANTIAGO! WE'RE HOME! AND WE HAVE THE SCENT! No offense Jean." A man wearing a black frock coat and tophat shouts into the humble abode. In the vestibule of the doorway, he's greeted by the sight of dozens upon dozens of books. All in rows upon rows of shelving. Trinkets, baubles, and everything in between is scattered all over the floors. Rolling and walking and chattering in all it's metallic entirety. Globes of the world spinning of their own accord. Two legged dipping birds jumping around and squawking. It was an impossible world of machinery of magic. Locked away in that little door on Saint Havrensburg Lane. But not one in the party of 4. The addition being one slumped and unconscious stallion paid the roaring man any mind as they stormed in. Their strides beset with purpose and each as each splintered off to their own works, peeling left and right, never forward as the man in frock went, they all turned away.

And in the man's eyes burned a backlit fire of hell. Stoked by curiosity and righteous fury..

"So have I." Resounded another voice. It came from straight ahead and slightly to the left. A single deadlocked door. A behemoth of steel and iron. As he strode, the monster opened and from it came the clipped inflections of another man. A man who could be found laughing, as jovial as he was fair. He was at the best of times a saint. But at the worst of times he was

"Alchemist!" Called the man in frock, running to the door and throwing the deadbolts, leaping down the stairs and into the lab below.

"I've triangulated the location! All the murders are happening between Morning Darrows and Mabel Streets!" Shouted Jean.

"EXCELLENT!" He remarked, grabbing the nearest vile from the shelf of viles filled with incandescent an iridescent liquids. Phosphorous, Sulfur, Mercury, Lead, Copper, Zinc, Iron and Steel all melded in a cacophony of brewing madness as the two worked, not a single order passed between them.

"Mister Hayfields isn't waking up!" Shouted Christoper.

"BOLLOCKS!" Retorted the man all in black, working hurriedly. "Santiago, I need a Phosphorous and Holy Water blend!" He shouted as the Alchemist poured the two into a small vile, putting a sliver of a cork in its wedge and throwing it to the raggedy man in black.

"Succubus?" Asked the Alchemist finally as the Man in black headed back up the staircase.

"No. Not A Succubus, The last succubus." He replied.

~~~~

The police station was ablaze with activity as officers scampered too and fro. Twilight watched grimly as they hastily prepared for the night's assault. The call to arms had come just after sunset, seven o'clock sharp. Twilight had been delegating with the Princess for nearly the whole day. Eventually, she had won, not due to conviction, but rather due to the Princess's weariness of the whole sordid affair. She had urged Twilight to take whatever course of action she had deemed necessary. And the mare made certain to use the Princess's approval's wisely. She had worked all day, coordinating with the local officers that patrolled near Saint Haverensburg Lane. She had made sure that tonight would be the night that the notorious "Agency" would be put down. Still, she felt the black tides of sleep washing at the beaches of her mind. Calling enticingly to the wearied and rusted thing that was her mind. But still she stayed, watching over her men and women. Mares and stallions as they gathered arms, coats, donned hats and carried messages. Cordoned sidewalks and cut off escape routes for the "Agency of Doors". She watched as they placed red dots on a map, slowly getting closer to pinpointing evidence that would put those men and women away behind bars for the rest of their natural lives.

"Ma'am!" A voice called from behind her as the doors to her office, letting the roaring insanity of a thousand voices all trying to speak to each other in. "I've just received word that the Agency is planning something. Whatever it is, the officers already at the scene report various shouts and yells accompanied with explosions. It appears they might be onto something as well." Finished the young cop. Twilight turned to him slowly, eyeing and appraising him. He was a young unicorn, barely out of his teens and already on the workforce. The large uniform seemed all the larger on his lanky blue frame and his breath came quickly, cheeks rosy due to exertion.

"Very well, tell them the force is near mobilized." She stated calmly, beginning to turn back to her desk. As she was turning, another messenger burst in, huffing and puffing due to his overly un-muscular physique.

"Ma'am...it's the *wheeze* Agency! They're *cough* on the move!" He shouted, doubling over to catch his breath as Twilight shot up out of her chair and pushed past him.

"Bugger bugger bugger bugger." She muttered under her breath. Stopping only once on her way to the door to pick up her coat. "ATTENTION! THOSE DAFT BASTARDS ARE ON THE MOVE! I WANT THIS SET UP AT THEIR HOUSING, AND I WANTED IT YESTERDAY! SO I SUGGEST YOU LOT SNAP TO UNLESS YOU WANT TO SEE THIS MURDERS LIVE FREE ANOTHER DAY!" She screeched above the noise, inspiring the troops as she exited into the cold and dreary night.

A soldier marching unto the breach.

TO BE CONTINUED