Ponyville Noire: Misty Streets of Equestria

Chapters

Case Fourteen, Prologue: Open Account
Case Fourteen, Chapter Two: Buried
Case Fourteen, Chapter Three: Diplomacy
Case Fourteen, Chapter Five: Marks of the Past
Case Fourteen, Chapter Six: Quarry
Case Fourteen, Chapter Seven: No Longer Alone
Case Fifteen, Prologue: The End of Quick Step
Case Fifteen, Chapter One: With Much Ado
Case Fifteen, Chapter Two: Dance of the Dead
Case Fifteen, Chapter Three: Catching Up
Case Fifteen, Chapter Four: Homestead
Case Fifteen, Chapter Five: Spotlight
Case Fifteen, Chapter Six: Making Fire
Case Sixteen, Prologue: Hidden Beneath
Case Sixteen, Chapter One: Two Plans, Two Bodies
Case Sixteen, Chapter Two: Years of Hate
Case Sixteen, Chapter Three: Scent of Smoke
Case Sixteen, Chapter Four: Rest and Regain
Case Sixteen, Chapter Five: Unearthed
Case Sixteen, Chapter Six: Through the Fire and Flames
Case Sixteen, Chapter Seven: Makings of a Hero
Case Sixteen, Chapter Eight: A New Song
Case Seventeen, Prologue: A New Mission
Case Seventeen, Chapter One: Welcome to Cuore
Case Seventeen, Chapter Two: Ghosts of Our Past
Case Seventeen, Chapter Four: Halls of Knowledge
Case Seventeen, Chapter Five: The Bone Temple
Case Seventeen, Chapter Six: Anger
Case Seventeen, Chapter Seven: The Battle of Collina Nord
Case Seventeen, Chapter Eight: Time Heals All Wounds
Case Eighteen, Prologue: The Journal
Case Eighteen, Chapter One: Welcome to Sydneigh
Case Eighteen, Chapter Two: Myths and Legends
Case Eighteen, Chapter Three: Setting Out
Case Eighteen, Chapter Four: Red Sands
Case Eighteen, Chapter Five: Predators
Case Eighteen, Chapter Six: More Than Legend
Case Eighteen, Chapter Seven: Uluru
Case Eighteen, Chapter Eight: Stormfront
Case Eighteen, Chapter Nine: Treasures Revealed
Case Eighteen, Chapter Ten: Til Death Do Us Part
Case Fourteen, Chapter One: On Scaly Wings
Case Fourteen, Chapter Four: A Taste for Mystery
Case Fifteen, Chapter Seven: Freshly Printed
Case Seventeen, Chapter Three: Nightmares of the Survivor

Case Fourteen, Prologue: Open Account

“One thing about Canterlot,” Detective Hidden Ace mused, taking a sip from the coffee cup floating in front of him. "Can't say it's ever boring around here."

He was currently standing in the middle of a grand hallway of granite and marble, staring at what had been the vault of First Equestrian Bank, flanked by great portraits of the bank’s founders and previous presidents. Normally, the vault would have been secured with an enormous door of magically reinforced and warded steel that was twice as tall and three times as wide as a pony, weighing almost ten tons and proof against all sorts of charms and spells.

The door was hanging ajar, the lock having been violently ripped open. Inside the vault were rows and rows of safe deposit boxes, their steel doors all torn from their hinges and laying on the floor amidst spilled gems and bits.

Even though he already knew what he would find, Detective Ace lit up his horn and passed a light red aura over the torn metal. As he’d suspected, there was no trace of magic over the vault lock. In fact, upon closer inspection, he could see the heavy dents in the side of the lock where the intruder had gripped the door when they ripped it open.

“They took the recording crystal, too?” the white unicorn asked, brushing a strand of his black mane out of his rosy eyes.

“Yes, sir,” the officer replied, staring at the torn open door in awe.

"And you found the Nightpoppy next to the door?" the unicorn continued, not even bothering to turn around.

"Right, sir," the officer nodded. "Guards were all fast asleep, didn't see anything." He whistled at the door. “This is...what, the fifth one?”

“Correct,” Ace nodded, pulling the tracking wand out from the saddlebag and switching on the aurate glow.

“What kind of creature could do this?” the rookie asked aloud.

“Not a pony,” Detective Ace said, sweeping the wand over the marble floor. Tracks appeared on the floor in a shining golden glow: tracks that did not believe to a pony.

The officer had been expecting it, he knew about the other robberies. The sight still made him shudder slightly. "It just doesn't seem believable," he said, mainly to himself.

“Who else would be strong enough to rip open a steel door?” Ace asked, nodding in confirmation as he took out a camera and snapped a few pictures of the tracks.

“That Ambassador isn’t gonna be happy,” the officer commented warily.

“Let him kick up a fuss,” Ace snorted. “He can’t protect his kind from this.”

Both stallions stared down in contemplative silence at the line of tracks revealed by the tracking wand, a trail leading into the vault, and a trail leading back out. A trail composed of long talons with three separate distinct toes.

“You ever go after a dragon, son?” Detective Ace asked. The rookie just gulped in response.

Case Fourteen, Chapter Two: Buried

The graveyard was quiet save for the rustling of the leaves in the trees, the green in the foliage fighting a valiant but losing battle against the invading reds and browns. Phillip proceeded down the rows of granite monuments, his head lowered against the onslaught of cold wind and warm sun. The scent of turned dirt and freshly cut grass filled his nostrils as he studied the names carved into the stones that he walked past.

Finally, he found his target. He walked up to the grave and sat down in the sun-kissed grass, blinking at the name before him. The golden medal embossed into the stone winked at him, the star, sun, and moon emblem of the Medal of Honor reflecting the amber glow.

“Trace Evidence. Fifth of the Moon of Hunters, 1919—Ninth of the Moon of Grain, 1950. You don’t have to be a hero—just an ordinary pony, sufficiently motivated.”

Looking down the row, Phillip saw three other graves marked with the same medal, all of them with the same death date etched into the stone. Officer Creek Dancer, Officer Red Rover, and Sergeant Tire Track, all murdered on the Ninth of the Moon of Grain, 1950.

Murdered by...him. By that thing.

Trace shrieked. The black tongues writhed like serpents as they carved through his eyes; Phillip could hear his brain squelching as it was blended and churned; pink liquid and black slime dribbled down his face like tears. Trace's entire body trembled, his jaw hanging open as if in a horrible, silent scream. His hooves slackened and released Phillip's foreleg and Phillip was helplessly dragged across the foul-smelling red clay, clawing for some purchase, watching as the eyeless corpse crashed to the floor, face forever frozen in agony…

Phillip collapsed against the stone, clinging to it, gasping for air. His chest felt like he was being crushed in a vice, every breath a struggle against the iron walls. Hot tears ran from his eyes, even as he clenched his lids shut as tight as he could.

Stop it! he ordered himself. You’re not a bloody baby!

But the tears did not yield to his commands, continuing to leak out from beneath his eyelids. He lay against the cold stone, battling to wrest back control of his breathing. It took several minutes for his heartbeat to slow to more manageable levels, for the iron vise to release his ribs. He continued to sit still, glaring at the blue skies and warm sun that seemed to mock him.

A sound alerted Phillip to two interlopers approaching. Flash Sentry was trotting up, one hoof on the fetlock of his mother, Pastor Joyful Sound. “What’s wrong, Phil?” Flash called from a couple rows down.

“I'm fine,” Phillip grunted, turning away to try to hide his damp face.

“I may not be a detective yet, but even I know that that’s a lie,” Flash commented with a raised eyebrow.

Phillip shot him a glare and Flash cringed a bit. “Son, that’s not helping,” Joy scolded gently, her dim blue eyes fixing upon him for a moment.

“Sorry, Phil, mom,” Flash mumbled, rubbing the back of his mane. “I, uh...I should be meeting with Twilight. She’s going to be going into conniptions if I don’t make it to my pre-test study session.”

“I’m sure you’ll pass with flying colors tonight,” Joy smiled, kissing her son on the cheek. “Good luck, honey. Give my love to Twilight and Spike!”

“Good luck, Flash,” Phillip called, trying to force some enthusiasm into his voice and hating himself for the hollow feeling in his gut. If Flash detected anything wrong with his voice, he didn’t indicate it, dismissing himself with a wave of his wing.

Joy turned and proceeded up to Phillip, her cane tapping against the ground. She ran a hoof over the etched surface of the grave at the mouth of the row, then proceeded confidently down the row to sit beside him.

“I figured you’d be by to see him sooner or later,” she said, not even having to examine the name on the grave.

Phillip remained silent, not looking at her.

Joy reached out and took Phillip’s hoof. He did not resist as the warm grip ran up and down his fetlock.

“I know you’re hurting,” she said. “I can’t imagine what it feels like.”

“It’s been weeks, and I’m not getting any better,” Phillip mumbled.

“Healing from trauma isn’t a linear path,” Joy said. “After the accident that left me blind, I had more bad days than I’d like to remember. Some days I’d be fine, looking forward to the future with a smile, and then something would happen and I’d be alternating between crying all day and being angry at the whole world.” She sighed and leaned back against the stone. “Flash and my husband were both the pillars that I leaned on during those times. I hope that you have similar ponies that you can lean on.”

Daring, his parents, Flash, and Twilight’s faces all floated before his gaze for a moment. Phillip grunted in confirmation and allowed himself to rest his head against Joy’s for a moment. Her cloud-soft mane smelled of lilies and morning dew, her hoof warm on his fetlock.

“I should be tougher than this…” he muttered, pulling away from her.

“Phillip, you know that Storm hated war and conflict,” Joy said. “You know that he cried over his lost soldiers. Was he not a brave and strong stallion?”

Phillip was silent for long moments, then nodded.

“I’m going to assume that that was a nod,” Joy said with a wry smile.

“Sorry,” Phillip winced.

“It’s all right. There’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?” Joy asked.

Phillip didn’t answer for a few seconds. “There...was a client who came today.”

“Yes?” Joy pressed.

“She was describing her case and I…” Phillip sighed and began to tug at the grass, ripping at the green leaves and feeling childish. “I froze. It kept feeling like...like I was back in that forest...facing that thing…”

Black eyes, like holes into Tartarus. Veins of tar that pulsed and oozed. A gurgling voice like something without vocal chords imitating equine speech. Phillip swallowed and gripped the grass like it would keep him from floating away, the vise gripping his chest again.

“Slow breaths, slow breaths,” Joy whispered, stroking his foreleg.

Phillip wrested control of his breathing, fighting off the crushing vice. Air returned to him like he was surfacing from deep underwater and he swallowed down a breath. “I should go with her,” he said throatily. “I have to, but…” He groaned. “I don’t know if I’m ready…”

“Why not?” Joy asked.

Phillip swallowed down his shame and spoke. “I’m scared, Joy. Scared I’ll freeze up again. Scared something will go wrong. Scared Daring will get hurt. Scared I’ll fail.”

“That means you’re a pony, not that you’re weak,” Joy replied. “Fear, uncertainty, these are all marks of life.” She smiled at him. “But a wise pony once said that being brave isn’t the same thing as not being scared.”

Phillip let out a soft laugh as his own words were echoed back at him. “True.” He took a long sigh. “I just don’t know if I’m ready yet…”

“Only you can answer that, Phillip,” Joy replied. “But I believe I know something about that. You remember that colt, years ago, who heard a young mare crying herself to sleep every night and decided to do something about it?”

“That colt’s long gone,” Phillip muttered.

“I don’t think so,” Joy replied. “Because that mare crying to herself was a trumpet call, Phillip, a trumpet call that you answered. A trumpet call that you’ve answered every time you heard another cry for help, from a murder victim lying in the street or from a wronged pony sitting in your home. It’s not just a mark on your flank, Phillip; it’s part of who you are.”

“But how do I know I won’t fail?” Phillip asked.

“You never do,” Joy answered. “You’ve risked failure every time you’ve gone out on a case; we all risk failure every time we make a venture. All we can do is have faith.”

Faith. The word triggered a rush of bitterness up from Phillip’s heart, flooding his throat. He spat it out before he could stop it.

“And what good did faith do anypony?” he grunted. “Is faith supposed to bring Trace back? Undo what happened to Daring and me? Did your faith ever get your sight back?”

Even blind, Joy managed to lock her gaze upon his and give him a scathing look one eyebrow raised. Phillip withered and looked down at the ground. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “That was a low blow.”

“I forgive you; we often speak without thinking when we’re hurt,” Joy replied with a smile. “As for faith, you’re thinking of it the wrong way. Faith isn’t about taking pain away or solving all our problems with words and hope. Not even the Holy Mother can do that. Faith is about helping us through the pain, of promising a better day, telling yourself that there will come an end to the darkness.”

“I’m not a pony of faith,” Phillip stated. “I’ve never believed in gods, you know that.”

“You believe in what you can see and hear and feel,” Joy nodded. “So believe in your friends and family, who love and support you. Believe that your client came to you seeking help. And believe in yourself.”

She patted his shoulder and stood up, grunting as she heaved herself up with her cane. “I’m sure Trace appreciates the visit, but you shouldn’t stay here,” she told Phillip as she started to head back. “Only the dead stay here.”

Phillip watched her leave in silence, then turned and looked back at the grave. He ran a hoof along Trace’s name, sighing as he did so.

“Sorry, Trace,” he mumbled through the choking vice, and stood up.

Daring glanced at her watch and frowned. “It’s nearly noon,” she sighed. “I guess he’s not coming.”

Rising, she proceeded to the front hall, checking over her pockets to make sure she had everything ready.

“Are you sure you can’t wait a little longer?” Rain asked, shifting in her wheelchair.

“Sorry, but I’ve got to get moving,” Daring replied. Taking her .38 from the holster on the wall, she snapped open the chamber to ensure it was loaded, then strapped the holster onto her chest. She took her pith helmet from the coat rack, sighing as her gaze fell on the green vest and the gray trilby.

“I’ll, uh...let you know when I get to Canterlot,” she said lamely, reaching for the door.

But before Daring’s hoof could fall on the doorknob, the door opened. She blinked in surprise to see Phillip standing on the other side of the door.

“Hand me my hat and vest,” he stated.

A grin spread across Daring’s face and she tossed him the gray trilby and green vest, the gear in it jingling in the pockets. “I knew you’d pull through,” she declared, helping him strap his shoulder holster on.

“I just needed to get my head back on,” Phillip replied, fitting his ears through the holes in the brim of his trilby.

“Oi!” Bobby called, rushing up the hallway with two necklaces dangling in his mouth. “Nearly forgot these. Your mom wants you to keep these.”

Daring took one of the little totems, studying the black and gray zebra-like figure with its wide, white eyes, spread wings, and crown of clouds and lightning bolts. Awely-Awely, the queen of the wandjina, protective Aborigineigh spirits of rain, stared back at her with her wooden white orbits; for a moment, Daring thought she felt a strange, cold tingle of power in her hoof. A familiar, comforting tingle that she half-remembered from a dream of underground chambers filled with heavy, hot air and snarling things that crawled on unseen legs.

“Thanks,” she nodded to Rain, who nodded approvingly from the living room.

“Right,” Phillip said, putting on the necklace of Angkakert and tucking the idol beneath his shirt, so that it rested next to his heart. He patted himself down, checking his pockets to ensure that he had everything ready. “All set,” he nodded, giving the totem a final pat.

Bobby seized both ponies in a bone-crushing hug, driving the breath from their lungs. “You two stay safe,” he declared, giving both of them a hot, rough kiss on the forehead. “We’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.”

“We’ll call when we get settled in,” Phillip stated, squirming out of his father’s grasp.

“Save us a lamington for when we come back victorious,” Daring grinned to Bobby.

He gave them a salute and Rain waved them out. Phillip shut the door behind them both and turned the key in the lock. A purple glow washed over the house as Twilight’s protective wards reset themselves. Phillip hesitated briefly on the porch, staring at the house with a haunted gaze.

“They’ll be fine,” Daring said, placing a hoof on his shoulder.

He gave her an uncertain glance, shifting his weight on his hooves in a small, anxious dance.

“Your dad punched an ancient monster in the face. I’m sure he can handle things,” Daring smiled at him.

Phillip swallowed and nodded. “Let’s get to the train station,” he stated, turning.

Daring’s smile turned into a gleaming, narrow-eyed grin, spreading her wings wide. Phillip froze and glanced over his shoulder at her like a mouse staring at the cat that had just caught it prowling through the pantry.

A moment later, a gold and gray blur streaked through the air, accompanied by a high-pitched yelp.

“It wouldn’t kill you to walk!” Phillip protested, trying to keep his eyes averted from the city speeding past several stories beneath him.

“Aw, don’t be a fraidy-cat,” Daring laughed. “Besides, you get to relax on the way there and I get some extra exercise.”

Phillip grumbled and shifted in Daring’s grasp, holding his hat down onto his head. They glided over the city in silence for a minute.

“So…” he finally said. “Are you doing okay?”

Daring was silent for a moment, then sighed, slowing her flight. “I’m not,” she said. “I thought the nightmares would go away, but it seems every time I close my eyes, I’m...I’m back in that dream temple. Or the door forest. But this time, I’m all alone...with him.”

She shuddered, and Phillip did not need to ask whom she meant. For a moment, the pitch black eyes and the leech-like tongues dancing out of the too-wide mouths floated before his own gaze and his heart convulsed in his chest.

“I’ve been...struggling myself, too,” he admitted.

“I’m not the detective that you are, Phil, but I kinda noticed,” Daring commented.

Phillip shot her a cold look over his shoulder. “Sorry,” Daring said sheepishly.

They continued in silence for a few moments, then Phillip spoke again. "You scared?"

Daring didn't answer for a long time, then sighed. "A little," she admitted.

"Me too," Phillip admitted, briefly squeezing one of the hooves that was wrapped around his chest.

"And here's where you say that as long as we're together, we'll be okay?" Daring asked with a dry smile.

Phillip let out a brief chuckle. "That's not what I was gonna say, but nice sentiment." He looked up and saw the skylight of the train station approaching. "But what matters right now is we've got a client who needs our help."

"So," Daring said. "We ready?"

Phillip stuffed the squirming anxiety down into the back of his mind and closed the door on it. "Ready."

"Then onwards!" Daring Do declared. And with another golden streak and a startled yelp, she zipped off again.

Smolder leaned against the steel column holding up the platform skylight, tapping her foot and glancing around the empty platform. She looked over her shoulder at the station house. The eyes that had been staring at her through the window immediately retreated.

“Ponies,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

She looked up at the clock hanging from the eaves, noting the time as ten to noon. “Guess they’re not coming,” she sighed.

A sudden rush of wind made her look up, then something dove down from the sky, landing in front of her.

“I bet right about now, you were thinking that we weren’t coming,” Daring grinned, adjusting her pith helmet and giving Phillip a smirk as he glared at her, smoothing out his trilby. “Hate to disappoint you.”

Smolder considered them for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess we could use the help,” she admitted. She pulled a notepad out of her backpack, scribbled out a quick note, and then rolled it up into a scroll. With a puff of blue flame, she set it alight, and it floated up into the air and vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Just sent a note to Krein,” she stated as a whistle sounded, announcing the approach of the northbound train.

“Aces,” Phillip nodded, heading over to the ticketmaster’s stand, where the mustachioed unicorn cowered behind the desk. “Two more for Canterlot, mate,” he declared, slapping some more bits on the desk.

Author's Note

Did I give you feels, reader? I hope I did. And I hope you're looking forward to more next week!

Like what you read? Leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Fourteen, Chapter Three: Diplomacy

The train pulled into Canterlot with a hissing of brakes and steam, and Smolder disembarked onto the gilded platform, with Phillip and Daring following, stretching in the afternoon sun.

“Okay, first stop: embassy,” Smolder declared. “Follow me.”

She took off with a flap of her wings. Daring scooped up Phillip and took off after her, soaring over the streets of Canterlot. Looking down, Phillip watched the streets passing below them, creatures of every type walking the white sidewalks. Pegasi, hippogriffs, thestrals, and dragons passed them by in the sky.

“You know, walking is supposed to be beneficial for ponies our age,” he declared to Daring.

“You calling me old?” Daring asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Phillip opened his mouth, paused, then closed it. “I should not answer that, should I?” he asked.

Daring smirked. “You’re learning,” she said, giving him a boop with one of the hooves that was now wrapped around his chest.

Finally, Smolder banked and started to dive towards the ground, prompting Daring to follow. They landed on a commercial street in front of a huge building, the brick so dark red that it was almost black. The massive gray ironwood doors were flanked by stone golems in the shape of dragons, glaring imperiously at the visitors. A flagpole over the doors bore a flag depicting a white dragon skull on a black background. A few dragons and ponies wandered in and out of the doors, and a dragon guard adorned in steel armor, head and shoulders taller than Phillip, nodded to Smolder as she approached.

Smolder pushed open the door and they entered a grandiose lobby. Dragons of every type and size were meandering around, standing in line, sitting behind desks filling out paperwork and answering ringing phones.

“Oi, Smolder!” a sea-green dragon called, rushing up to Smolder with his wings fluttering in agitation. “Tell Krein I have to reschedule the meeting about setting up the employment center. Someone back in the Dragonlands decided to redesign the work visas again and—”

“Not now, Heim,” Smolder grunted, pushing a path through the crowd to a huge elevator in the back. Ushering her guests inside, she hit the button for the top floor. The doors slid shut and the elevator started to trundle upwards.

“So is there a protocol for this?” Daring asked. “I mean, we’ve met royalty before, but…”

Smolder quirked an eyebrow at her and smirked. “Nervous?” she asked.

“Maybe a bit,” Daring admitted.

“Krein’s pretty laid back,” Smolder explained as the doors opened with a ding, revealing a long hallway with several doors lining the walls. “Just don’t say or do anything insulting and he’ll be good.”

“Got it,” Daring nodded as they proceeded down the hall.

“And relax, he doesn’t bite,” Smolder said as she knocked at the door. “Often,” she added with a smirk.

“Come in,” a voice spoke from inside. Smolder opened the door and the trio entered a large office.

Phillip and Daring entered and immediately halted in their tracks, their eyes widening at the sight of the enormous dragon sitting behind the ornate desk at the opposite end of the massive room. The golden-brown dragon was at least twice as tall as a pony, and every inch of him was built as if from stone. His massive wings were currently folded, but Daring could tell at a glance that they were more than thrice her wingspan. A black brand of a dragon’s skull, exactly like that on the flag outside, was etched into his right shoulder blade.

The dragon looked up at them and blinked owlishly, his red eyes glittering like little smoldering fires. Daring gulped.

“Ambassador,” Smolder said, entering with a small bow. “As I promised, Detectives Finder and Do. Spike and Twilight say hi, by the way.”

“Thank you, Smolder,” Krein nodded, the friendliness in his rumbling voice going a long way towards dispelling the ponies’ nervousness.

Phillip and Daring both bowed low. “Ambassador. I understand that there are some dragons disappearing. We are here to offer our help,” Phillip said.

“Detectives, thank you for coming on such short notice,” Krein nodded, rising and walking on all four legs up to the two ponies, extending a claw to shake. Phillip shook first; his foreleg felt like a twig inside Krein’s massive claw, but the dragon shook gently. “The dragons here are becoming extremely restless; if this continues, we might have riots on our claws. We need all the help we can get.”

“Let’s start with who the victims are,” Phillip said.

“Smolder compiled a list of all the dragons that have gone missing in Canterlot,” Krein stated.

“Fat lot of good it did,” Smolder grumbled. “Police barely looked at it.”

“I hope you can find something there that we and the police missed,” Krein said. “Smolder, show them to the office where your notes are. I need to send a note to Princess Ember.”

“Got it,” Smolder nodded.

“Keep me informed of your progress, please,” Krein requested.

“We'll let you know if we need anything, Ambassador,” Phillip said. “We also might need to speak to the police officers working this case.”

“Good thinking,” Krein nodded. “I will put in a call to the local precinct and ask for them.” He bowed. “Thank you again for coming.”

“We will do our best,” Phillip bowed back.

Smolder led them to a nearby conference room with a circular table surrounded by several massive cushions. Daring sat down on one; the cushion was so large that she sank down into the center of it, looking like a child sitting on her parent’s bed.

“Wait here,” Smolder said, disappearing briefly. She came back a moment later with a single folder, about an inch thick. “This is a list of all the dragons who went missing,” she declared, slapping the folder onto the table to reveal sheets of claw-written notes and photographs. “Krein and I started making it up when the bank robberies started and the police started asking us about the missing dragons.”

Phillip flipped through the list, letting out an approving noise as he noted the photographs of the missing dragons, lists of addresses and workplaces, and notes on who had last seen them and when. “Good work,” he nodded approvingly. “This helps a lot.”

“Thanks,” Smolder grinned.

“Fourteen dragons?” Daring said out loud.

“And it gets shunted to the side because dragons are apparently less important than ponies’ money,” Smolder grumbled.

Phillip turned to the last page. Kreidol smiled up at him from her passport photograph, her grin earnest and brown eyes shining. Phillip’s eyes went to the necklace around her neck; a simple twine cord went through a granite charm roughly shaped like a hammer. Smolder’s face fell and she folded her arms across her chest, looking down at the ground.

“We’ll find her,” Daring promised, laying a hoof on Smolder’s shoulder. Smolder just shrugged and grunted.

A rapping announced the presence of a black and silver winged dragoness at the door. “Smolder, Krein needs you for a bit,” the dragoness said.

“Okay, Niirah,” Smolder said, rising. “I’ll check on you in a bit,” she said to the detectives, heading for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Phillip said, raising a hoof. “You said that Kreidol was here on a work visa for construction?”

“Yeah,” Smolder replied.

“So were these six,” Phillip said, holding up some folders. “And they all disappeared soon after arriving in Canterlot.”

“We noticed that, too,” Smolder said. “But we weren’t sure if that was a common thread or not.”

“Well, we seem to have a celebrity couple in Canterlot,” a voice declared in a tone dryer than desert sand.

Both dragonesses turned and growled as a white unicorn in a red-trimmed suit approached up the hallway, brushing a strand of his black hair out of his light red eyes. His cutie mark was a deck of cards, all but the ace of diamonds turned facedown.

“Detective Ace,” Niirah growled. “Don’t you have somedragon else to bother?”

“Far be it from me to ignore a summons from the Ambassador of the Dragonlands,” the detective said coolly.

“I would not have called you here if I didn’t have to, detective,” Krein’s voice rumbled as he walked down the hall, glaring at the unicorn. “You are in my domain, and I will ask you to treat my staff with respect.”

“Right,” Ace growled at the Ambassador. “I’m sure that advice would’ve helped my brother a lot when he went off on that aid mission.”

“If you’re anything like your brother—!” Niirah started to snarl.

“Niirah,” Krein cut her off. Niirah and Smolder both backed down with the reluctance of a dog being called back from a treed cat, glaring daggers at the unicorn.

“Again, I am sorry about your brother,” Krein said diplomatically. “But the dragons who killed him are serving their sentences. You can’t blame all dragons for his death.”

Ace just grunted and walked into the conference room. The three dragons outside all shot him one final glare before Smolder slammed the door shut.

The unicorn looked over Phillip and Daring and nodded respectfully. “Detective Hidden Ace. I heard what happened in Ponyville. I’m sorry about your friends.”

Again the knife slid between his ribs. Again his heart throbbed. Again Trace’s scream sounded in his ears. Phillip took a breath and nodded. “Thank you, detective. Let’s just focus on these robberies and disappearances.”

“I suppose we could use the help,” Ace shrugged. “But your client’s not going to be happy when we find it’s a dragon robbing the banks.”

Daring and Phillip both exchanged frowns. “You seem awfully convinced,” Phillip said.

“How about we start at the beginning?” Daring asked. “What’ve you got on these robberies?”

“The MO is always the same,” Detective Ace stated. “The robber first enters the banks through the back door or window and places a Nightpoppy inside.” He held up a picture of a potted plant, a purple and dark blue pod, slightly larger than a softball with several fuzzy feelers extending from it, on top of a long purple stalk. The potted plant sat in a marble hallway, next to a door that had been forced open and hung yawning, the jamb ripped from the wall.

Daring whistled. “Nightpoppy’s tricky stuff to handle. One false move and those spores are putting you to sleep instead of your targets. I only used it a couple of times to knock out a large group.”

“Only times I’ve seen it, wankers knocked themselves out with it,” Phillip commented.

“The thief then takes the surveillance crystal from the security room, destroys the alarm circuit board, and tears open the vault door before making off with as much loot as they can carry. And trust me, that’s a lot,” Ace continued. He showed them a picture of the vault door.

Daring let out another admiring whistle. The humongous, multi-ton door had indeed been ripped open, the locks warped and pulled aside to allow entry. A close-up detailed how the time lock mechanism had been laboriously pulled open so that the massive bolts could be freed. Safe-deposit boxes lay open, their covers ripped off. Bits, gems, and other valuables were scattered on the floor.

“Finally, they load it up into a truck waiting outside and drive off,” Ace concluded, placing more photographs of glowing tire tracks, taken in the alley outside of the bank. “They’re smart enough to plan out their route so that they avoid our surveillance cameras and even with filtered tracking wands, we always lose them not far from the banks, though we’ve managed to kind of narrow down what type of truck it is.”

“Chevroneigh 1948, looks like,” Phillip said.

“Correct. We know they’re not using a spell to pull it open: even if there was any trace of magic around the lock, the doors are charm-proof,” Ace explained. “So whoever ripped it open had to do it on natural strength. And then there’s this,” he added, triumphantly slapping some more photographs on the table.

Phillip and Daring looked over the close-up snaps of the glowing tracks on the bank floor, two lines of three-taloned paws leading from the back of the bank, through the back door, into the security office, wound through the vault, then exited once more.

“We took measurements of the tracks, and we figure that it’s an around four-foot-tall dragon; possibly a drake, considering that they take a truck instead of flying. I’d say that seems pretty convincing,” Ace said with no small amount of smugness in his voice.

“I’d say you need to look again,” Phillip said.

Ace blinked. “What?” he asked.

“First, this evidence list,” Daring commented, holding up a list of recovered evidence from the banks. “I don’t see any scales or claw marks anywhere on there. Quite a few hair traces, though.”

“And the dents on the vault,” Phillip said, holding up the closeup. “Those don’t look like claw marks ripping at the metal: that looks more like hooves to me. And speaking of which.”

He held up a close-up of a photograph of a track with a ruler next to it. “Notice anything odd about this?” he asked.

“Looks like a normal dragon clawprint to me,” Ace shrugged.

“Not to me,” Phillip said. “Tracking spells work by picking up sweat, dust, and other traces that were left behind by prints, leaving a shape of the object that made the track. Dragon talons have wrinkles, ridges, just like our hoofprints: I know, I saw them on all the dragons here. These prints here? They’re completely smooth. No ridges or markings at all. Odd.”

“They look more like drawings of prints than actual prints,” Daring mused.

Ace took another look, frowning at the tracks with a reluctant grunt.

“And then there’s these,” Phillip said, pointing at another photograph, a wide view of a line of glowing talon prints trailing into the security room. “Some of those tracks have these odd circular ridges around them. They’re faint, but you can see them.”

“And what do you suppose made those?” Ace asked.

“A horseshoe,” Daring said. “I’ve seen these used sometimes: special horseshoes that have a raised impression of a different creature’s track on them. Normally, they’re used for leaving tracks on beaches or something, but this is the same effect.”

“Seems to me, it might not be a dragon at all,” Phillip said. “Might be a pony framing a dragon.”

Ace scowled. “So maybe it’s a pony trying to frame a dragon. That doesn’t change the fact that no pony can rip steel open with their bare hooves without magic,” he pointed out.

Daring’s eyes wandered over to the list of dragons. “I wonder if the robberies and the disappearing dragons are somehow related,” she mused.

“Seems to be a bit too much of a coincidence,” Phillip agreed. “Ace, you working on the disappearances as well?”

“No,” Ace replied. “I work robberies, not missing creatures. The dragons are being handled by Detective Paw Print. She’s making some headway, but the dragons aren’t really willing to talk to her either. Or any cop, for that matter.”

Wonder why, Daring thought dryly.

“And is she in today?” Phillip asked.

“I saw her this morning,” Ace said. “Don’t know why she hasn’t shown up yet.” He gathered up his stuff and stood. “Thank you for your assistance. I’ll take this into consideration going forward. Good luck with your investigation.” With a final nod, he exited, closing the door behind him.

“Prick,” Daring muttered.

“I was going to say wanker, but yeah,” Phillip agreed. He stood and stretched. “We should work our end. Try to find Detective Print and start talking to witnesses. Maybe there’s something they missed.”

Daring grinned. “Hooves on the ground detective work?”

Phillip nodded and stood, taking the folder. “Good to get back to work,” he admitted with a smile.

Exiting, they followed the sound of voices to an open conference room. Krein was speaking to a teal dragoness with fish-like fins instead of wings and a large dragon with slate-colored scales like metal armor, with Smolder standing off to one side.

“Quarry, you know the agreement: the mine is on yak land, so they get the majority share,” Krein was saying to the scowling slate dragon. “Algae, send a letter to Baltimare, tell them that we need to renegotiate that trade agreement if they’re not going to take responsibility for our cargo.”

“Will do!” Algae chirped. Quarry grunted and exited. Krein turned to face the detectives, dragging a claw over his face.

“Ambassador, we’re going to go out and start questioning witnesses,” Phillip said. “We’d like to borrow Smolder. Might be easier for them to talk to us if there’s a dragon with us.”

“Makes sense,” Krein nodded. “Smolder, have you finished your work for today?”

“Yes, boss!” Smolder nodded, eagerly bouncing in place. “Can I go?”

“One moment.” Krein pulled out a small scroll, wrote down a note on it with a large red pen, then pressed a small ring on his talon to the bottom of the paper. With a sizzling noise and a wisp of smoke that smelled like charcoal, a dragon’s skull image was burned into the bottom of the note.

“This note will tell all dragons to aid you, by my decree,” Krein said, handing the still slightly smoking paper to Phillip. “I gave one to Detective Paw Print last week; it was the only way she could get some dragons to talk to her.” He frowned in thought. “I called her down here with Detective Ace. Wonder where she is.”

“If she comes by, tell her we went to do some investigation on our own,” Phillip said, taking the letter.

“I will,” Krein nodded. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, boss!” Smolder cried, zipping out the door. “Hey, slowpokes, get a move on!”

“Who’s a slowpoke?” Daring called, snatching Phillip and racing off after her, ignoring Phillip’s yelp of protest.

As they rocketed out the embassy doors and into the sky, Phillip glanced over at Smolder. “So, we never asked. Tell us more about when Kreidol disappeared.”

Smolder frowned. “Like I said, she came over five days ago: I met her on the airship docks and brought her over to her hotel, the South Cavern. It’s a big stone place that’s popular with dragons in the undercity. She was supposed to report to her new construction job the next morning. I went looking for her in the evening, but couldn’t find her. I even checked with the construction company that she was hired for, Brick and Mortar, but they said she hadn’t even shown up for work.”

She growled as they flew along the edge of Canterlot, where the ledge of the mountain gave way to the open skies, down to the mountain base. Equestria stretched out for miles before them, glowing beneath the noontime sun. “What the hell happened to you, Kreidol?” Smolder muttered.

“Is the Cavern close by?” Daring asked. “Maybe we can start there. We can check her room and there’s a witness who lives there.”

“It’s this way,” Smolder said, banking to the right and diving over the lip of the city.

Daring grinned. Phillip gulped, looking at the sloping granite cliffs stretching far beneath them. “Daring, can we—AAAAAAAAAH!”

The undercity of Canterlot, home of the lower classes and many of the essential city functions that were considered uncouth and unfit to be displayed to the public, was like an entirely new city. The main city formed the roof of the massive cavern, supported by massive stone columns carved with scenes from Equestrian history. Light filtered in from massive skylights placed in strategic intersections, but most of the illumination came from street lamps and flickering neon signs. Phillip noticed that there was a larger concentration of non-ponies living down here, spotting larger groups of griffons and dragons walking up and down the cobbled streets.

“This place is pretty cool,” Daring commented as they wandered past a winding ramp that allowed access to the surface. Some ponies were gathering into an elevator formed into the center of a massive concrete pillar.

“Cavern is this way,” Smolder said, leading them around a corner.

The South Cavern proved to be a huge hotel carved out of the side of the mountain that Canterlot rested upon, lights flickering from the windows cut into the stone. The hotel’s name was displayed with a golden neon sign that flickered like a fire over the revolving glass door, which was more than three times as high as most ponies. Several dragons were milling around the hotel, talking, throwing dice, and competing in fire-belching contests that filled the air with the scent of sulfur.

Daring entered first, followed by Phil and Smolder. The huge lobby was decorated to look like a natural cave, with flickering torches set in sconces on the wall that sent light and shadows dancing amongst the stalactites and stalagmites. A large circular fire pit in the center was filled with glowing coals; a piglet with an apple stuffed into its mouth roasted on a spit over the pit.

A blue dragoness standing behind the counter looked up with a smile. “Welcome! Are you here for a room?”

“Detectives Finder and Do,” Phillip said, extracting Krein’s note from his vest. “We’re checking on Kreidol’s disappearance from a few days ago.”

The hostess frowned at the note and sighed. “We’ve kept her room locked up, per the police instructions,” she stated, taking a key. “Nothing’s been touched or changed, except for what little the police took. We're keeping it closed until the police close the investigation.”

She led them up the wide stairs to the second floor and down a hallway lit by torches to room number 214, as declared by the gilded numbers etched into the stone door. Crime Scene: Do Not Cross tape was stretched across the doorway, placed so that it would tear if someone opened the door. A chain of custody sheet was stapled to the door, protected by a plastic sleeve.

As Daring and Phillip signed the sheet and carefully peeled the tape aside, the hostess unlocked the door and opened it wide. “Hope you find something; she was a sweet girl,” she said, departing. Smolder waited in the hallway as Phil and Daring entered.

The room was small and cozy, roughly carved out of the stone. A simple chandelier hung from the stalactites above. A raised circular stone in the center covered with a mattress and sheets served as a bed, with a few couches, a dresser, a desk and chair, and a radio rounding out the room. A side door led to a bathroom with a shower that was the size of 221 Honeybee Bakery’s entire bathroom. The only sign that anyone had ever been in the room was a big battered canvas bag laying open on the floor next to the bed.

After scanning the room for anything of interest, Daring started searching the contents of the bag. There were some books in dragontongue, some personal hygiene items, notebooks and what looked like some formal letters, also written in dragon language, and winter clothing made of furs, but nothing leapt out to her.

“Can you read these?” she asked Smolder, holding them up.

Smolder glanced them over. “It’s a message from our embassy regarding his work visa. ‘Dear Kreidol, your work visa has been accepted. Please report to Brick and Mortar on blah blah blah.’”

“Police should’ve taken these,” Phillip snorted. “Bogans. Probably left it because they couldn’t read them.”

“Are there no dragon police officers?” Daring asked Smolder.

“The idea isn’t really popular with Canterlot citizens,” Smolder grunted. “Or with us dragons.”

“G’day,” Phillip muttered, bending over a notepad on the desk. The top sheet was torn off and there was the faint ghost of writing on the sheet. Phillip took a pencil out of his vest and gently rubbed the notepad, revealing some more dragon runes.

“It says ‘102 Smart Cookie Lane, enter through the side door,’” Smolder translated.

Phillip frowned, then checked the phone book in the desk drawer. “Odd. Brick and Mortar isn’t on that address.”

“Might be worth checking that out later,” Daring commented, filing the address away in the back of her mind.

Nothing else stood out to them, so they exited and relocked the door and replaced the tape behind them. “Okay, there’s a witness who lives here,” Phillip said, consulting Smolder’s notes. “Let’s go talk to him.”

The trio proceeded up to room 313 and knocked at the door. After a moment, the door opened and a sand-colored dragon peeked out.

“Sandstorm?” Phillip asked.

“Yes?” the dragon replied in a low, raspy voice.

“Detectives Finder and Do,” Phillip said. “We’re looking into the disappearance of your friend, Geode.”

“You with Detective Paw Print?” Sandy asked. “I haven’t seen her in a bit.”

“We’re working with her,” Daring said. “Can we come in? Might be easier to talk in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, come in,” Sandstorm said, stepping aside.

Sandy lived in a double room. He plopped down on the closest bed, moving aside a few comic books to make room. The other bed was neatly made, with a few stacks of books on landscaping and construction on the floor next to it. The desk in the corner was set up in the middle of a game of Battleship.

“Geode’s been gone for two weeks now,” Sandstorm murmured. “Please, do you have anything?”

“We just need to go over what happened,” Daring said gently. “We might be able to find something that got missed the first time around.”

“Don’t know what to tell,” Sandstorm said. “Geode had been working here for eight months before he invited me over. We set up here: it’s cozy, it’s affordable. I started working for a mining company. Unfortunately for Geode, the landscaping company he was working for folded two months ago and he had to get help from our employment office. Got another job with the city public works.”

“And he disappeared the day he left?” Daring asked.

Sandstorm nodded. “From what they told me, he never showed up to work,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what happened to him.”

Daring patted the dragon on the shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll find out what happened to him.”

“Do you remember anything odd that day?” Phillip asked.

Sandstorm thought for a moment. “The day before he left, he got a phone call. Something about meeting up at a worksite. I don’t remember the address, though. Sorry.” He sighed. “It’s the same as what I told Paw Print, guys. I don’t see what this does.”

“Any luck that he wrote it down somewhere?” Daring asked.

“He took his notebook with him, sorry,” Sandstorm shrugged.

“Do you remember anything he said specifically?” Daring pressed. “Sandstorm, this is important.”

“I was busy with a comic and wasn’t really listening,” Sandstorm sighed. “Maybe if I…” He shook his head.

“This isn’t your fault,” Daring said. “But even the smallest detail might be able to help us. Please, think hard.”

Sandstorm closed his eyes and tapped his head a few times. “I...wait, there is one thing I remember,” he murmured. “He was repeating instructions the guy on the phone told him. I remember he said ‘left at the fountain’ and ‘side door.’”

Smolder brightened a bit. “Hey...there’s a big marble fountain at the corner of Smart Cookie Lane and Puddinghead Street.”

“And that note said, enter through the side door,” Daring pointed out with a grin. “We might be onto something.”

Author's Note

Krein belongs to my good friend Olakaan Pellik, and is the star of his story Flames, which I highly recommend!

This was a great chance to show off a bit more of dragon culture in Equestria, and a good way to introduce Smolder to the Noireverse. I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, leave a like and a comment!

Case Fourteen, Chapter Five: Marks of the Past

Daring groaned as she opened her eyes, blinking in the harsh orange light. She tried to sit up, but stopped when her everything protested having to move. “Ow...anypony get the number of that truck?” she groaned, her chest burning when she tried to speak.

“Daring Do?” a voice came to her from a mile away. She looked up and immediately winced when a bright light shone directly into her eyes.

“My name is Daring Do, I’m in Canterlot, it’s Tuesday, the twenty-fifth of the Moon of Grain, 1950, and I don’t have a concussion, bug off,” she grumbled, waving the light away.

“I still need to check, Miss Do,” the voice said patiently. Daring’s vision cleared to see a pair of Canterlot police officers, a male hippogriff and a mare unicorn, bending over her.

The mare scanned Daring with a medical spell and clicked her tongue. “You and your partner are both lucky for that armor,” she reported.

The mention of her partner made Daring jolt upright with a gasp, then immediately grimace in pain, clutching her chest. “Where’s Phil?” she cried.

“He’s okay, he’s over here,” the mare said, gently placing a hoof on her shoulder to try to stop her from rising. “All you both got were some cracked ribs and bruises. You should be okay, but I recommend taking it easy for a few days.”

Daring’s retort of “fuck that” died in her throat when she saw Phillip sitting on the curb, turning his trilby over and over in his hooves. His eyes were on the smoking wreckage of the motorcycle that was now sitting on the sidewalk like some strange art piece that officers and cordoned civilians alike were gawking at. Shoving off the unicorn officer, she got to her hooves and trotted over to him.

“You okay?” she asked, sitting down on the curb next to him.

Phillip shook his head. “Should’ve been faster,” he mumbled, twisting the hat in his trembling hooves. “Shouldn’t have frozen...should have…”

Daring draped her wing over his shoulders and squeezed him to her side. “Hey, we’re both okay,” she whispered into his ear. “Bastard hit us with his best shot and missed. We’re gonna find him, and we’re gonna make him hurt.”

Phillip didn’t respond. Daring squeezed him a little harder. “It’s okay, Phil,” she soothed. “We’re both okay.”

Phillip nodded and stood up with a slow breath, placing his trilby back on his head. “Where’s that saddlebag?” he grunted, looking around.

The battered white saddlebag was currently being photographed by a pair of officers. Phillip strode over to the saddlebag and after a brief nod from the sergeant, opened up the bag.

Inside was a bag of bits, a notebook that was filled with illegible writing, a black hooded cloak and ski mask, several purple cloth bags, and two small bags, one filled with dead rats, the other with soya beans.

“Interesting collection in here,” Phillip mused, shaking the Bags of Holding and finding them empty. “These didn’t come cheap. Probably what he used to haul the money away.”

“And what the hell are these for?” Daring asked, looking at the rats and beans.

“Look like they’re from a pet shop,” another officer commented. “Maybe he’s got a cat and a chicken or something?”

Phillip looked over the cloak. “Take a butcher’s,” he said, lifting up the dusty, bespotted hem. “Dust on the cloak matches dust in the alley. And spent Nightpoppy spores.”

The sound of a car honking made Phillip and Daring look up. A long black car pulled up to the corner just outside the crime scene barriers and halted. The back window rolled down and the head of a silver unicorn mare, her turquoise and pink mane cut into a masculine style, leaned out. The mare tilted her sunglasses down and her eyes focused on Phillip and Daring.

“Detectives, over here,” she called, beckoning them to the car.

Phillip and Daring glanced at each other, then shrugged and walked up to the side of the new car, skirting around the wrecked heap of metal. As they approached, they noticed that despite the warm weather, the mare was wearing a loose dark blue jacket. A jacket with a distinct bulge on the side of her chest.

Once they got a few feet away, the mare held up a hoof to stop them. Her horn lit up with a blue aura, sweeping over the pair of them like a spotlight.

“They have more than earned our trust, sergeant,” another mare’s voice spoke from inside the car, this one sonorous and authoritative. “Let them in.”

“Ma’am,” the mare said, opening up the car door with her magic. She slid aside and beckoned for the detectives to enter, sitting in the seat opposite her.

Daring ducked in first and found, to her complete lack of surprise, that the interior of the car was much larger on the inside. The front- and back-facing seats were both large enough for five ponies to comfortably sit side by side. A pane of bulletproof glass separated the back of the car from the driver and front passenger, who were also dressed in long, loose dark blue coats and scanning the street outside the window.

On the seat opposite her sat the white unicorn mare, who had closed the door and was rolling the window up after Phillip. Next to her was a tall, midnight blue mare, her sapphire mane and tail spilling down her body like waterfalls, her wings folded to her sides. She studied the two detectives with a single cyan eye, her right orbit covered with a patch.

“Your Highness,” Daring said, bowing as best as she could within the confines of the car. Phillip mimicked the gesture.

“Good evening, detectives,” Princess Luna nodded. “I wish this were under better circumstances. Here, allow me to assist you.”

Her horn lit up and waves of indigo magic slowly passed over Phillip and Daring’s bodies. Both ponies let out quiet groans of contentment as bruises quickly faded and cracked bones knit back together, the pain slowly fading away into a dull ache.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Phillip nodded, stretching his shoulders with a series of pops.

“You are most welcome,” Luna nodded. “I’ve been keeping abreast of the bank robberies and the vanishing dragons these past few weeks. When word came up the grapevine that you were involved, I knew it would only be a matter of time before a lead came up.” She leaned forward.

“We heard that you had an encounter with a superstrong felon,” she said. “What happened?”

Phillip gave the Princess a brief rundown of what happened: the suspect entering the Tasty Treat, following him across Canterlot, the fight in the street, and the attacker making his escape by bounding a tall building.

Princess Luna frowned and leaned forward. “This unicorn. Describe him,” she said.

“Blue, silver mane, green eyes,” Phillip recited. “Cutie mark was a test tube with a star coming out of it.”

Princess Luna gritted her teeth, her eye flashing dangerously. “He changed his marks and coat,” she growled.

“Who?” Daring asked.

With a small pop of indigo light, a file appeared before Princess Luna. She opened it up to reveal a photograph of a stallion. This picture appeared to be a cropped part of a larger photograph of a group of ponies, taken from a distance. The unicorn in question was turned slightly towards the camera and appeared to be speaking to somepony to the photographer’s left; he had a muddy brown coat and his cutie mark was a smaller test tube with no star, but the silver hair was the same, as well as the glaring green eyes set in the angular face.

“That’s definitely him,” Daring nodded. “Looks like he got the cutie mark altered with tattoos. There’s an underground and heavily illegal market for that.”

“His name is Rare Reaction,” Luna said, revealing a Crystal Empire military record, with a photograph of a slightly younger Reaction at the head of it. The record noted his rank as Maggiore, major.

“He served under Sombra when he was Prime Minister, and then when he was King,” Luna explained. “During the Crystal War, Sombra did horrific experiments with dark magic in an effort to gain an advantage. Rare Reaction was one of his blasphemous apostles; his specialization was potions. One of his favorite ingredients was dragon blood; in fact, it’s part of the reason why the dragons entered the war. When Princess Cadenza demonstrated proof that dragons were being abducted and used for these experiments, they readily agreed to fight on our side.” She glared at the photograph. “He was one of the few members of Sombra’s circle that escaped at the end of the war.”

“Dragon blood,” Phillip murmured. “Is there a potion made from dragon blood that can grant superstrength?”

“Rare Reaction and his colleagues were working on one such potion towards the end of the war, but based on what we found, he was not successful before he was forced to flee,” Luna said.

“I’m willing to bet he figured it out,” Daring grumbled. “And I think I know where he got the supply.”

“So how does a major in the Crystal Army go from that to robbing banks?” Phillip pondered.

“Pony’s gotta eat. And I’m willing to bet that he doesn’t have a lot of choices for legitimate employment,” Daring commented.

“I fear it may be more than that,” Luna commented. “Part of the reason why using dragon blood in potions is forbidden is because they often cause the user to take on dragon-like aspects—particularly their greed and anger. I fear that these robberies may be a sign of growing instability on Rare Reaction’s part.”

Daring groaned. “Great. You wouldn’t happen to have an antidote for that, would you?”

“Not without knowing the exact contents,” Luna replied. “But there is something I can do.”

She opened up a panel in the side of the door and pulled out a phone, punching a number into the keypad. The line buzzed a few times, then Luna spoke.

“I need to speak to Doctor Burner,” she said. After a moment, she spoke again. “Doctor, I need a weakening potion, as strong as you can make it.” A few moments of silence, then Luna said, “Make it within two hours.” She hung up, then leaned back in her chair.

“What I am still concerned about is how this fiend is able to find his victims,” she said out loud. “There must be some common thread.”

“They were all lured to an alleyway,” Phillip said. “It appears to have been a fake call from work—”

He suddenly blinked, then smacked himself on the forehead. “Bugger me, I’ve been a right bludger. We need to get to the Dragon Embassy.”

“What is it?” Luna asked.

“Not a coincidence that all of the dragons who vanished were looking for new jobs,” Phillip growled. “We’ve all been stupid. Somedragon working with the employment department was helping him.”

Luna magically knocked at the glass pane. “Sergeant Hooves, the Dragon Embassy,” she ordered.

"Yes, Your Highness," the brown earth pony mare with a long dark blue mane nodded, turning the key in the ignition. The car started up with a grumble and pulled away from the scene, heading towards the north. The four ponies inside the cabin settled in for the ride.

“Detectives, there are a few other things my sister and I wanted to discuss with you,” Luna said, leaning forward. “First, the Kyaltratek. You still have not found it?” she asked.

“No,” Phillip admitted. “We still don’t know where Zugzwang was hiding, and none of Scarlet’s hideouts had it.”

“Damn,” Luna growled. “That tome is extremely dangerous in the wrong hooves. It must be found again. You must not stop looking for it.”

“We won’t, Your Highness,” Daring said. “I’m sure it’ll turn up sooner or later.”

Luna nodded. “Second…” She turned to Daring Do. “Your brand.”

Daring frowned and looked down at her right hoof. The mark stared back at her pitilessly.

“My sister and I have noticed it before,” Luna said. “We understand that it is cursed?”

“Yes,” Daring muttered. “From some kinda cursed iron made over a hundred years ago. It marks me as a member of the Family, forever. It's connected to my magic so it can never come off.”

Forever marked as a thief. Forever marked as a murderer. Forever marked as a coward, a traitor. Forever carrying that burning pain deep in her bones that flared up whenever guilt reared its head. Daring bit down on her lip as the pain bit into her and turned away, taking slow breaths to master herself.

Phillip took her marked hoof and squeezed, his grip warm and soft, banishing the pain. She shook her head and refocused, turning back to the Princess, who was gazing at her with a look of soft, sad compassion.

“We disagree,” Luna replied. “It might take some time to work through the curse, but I’d like to try to remove it.”

A bitter voice in Daring’s gut whispered, Why bother? It’s not like she can somehow wipe all the blood off your hooves.

But...didn’t she deserve it? After everything she’d done, all the lives she’d saved, the criminals she’d put away? Wouldn’t it be great to not have to worry about the burning pain whenever she was reminded of her past?

The call of freedom outweighed her guilt. She looked up at Luna and nodded. The Princess nodded with a smile.

“Hold out your right hoof, please,” she said.

Daring did, extending the mark of the Family to the Princess, who began to scan it with her magic in silent contemplation. As they worked, Phillip looked over at the silver unicorn, who had remained stone-faced and silent throughout the entire conversation. She met his gaze placidly.

“You were at Ponyville,” Phillip said.

The Guard hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “First Sergeant Iridescence,” she reported.

“I’m sorry about your comrades,” Phillip said quietly.

Iridescence blinked and took a slow breath, steadying herself. “Thank you. I am sorry about yours,” she said quietly.

Luna draped a wing over her guard’s shoulders as she completed scanning Daring’s brand and jotted down a few notes. “I should have a test spell ready soon,” she reported, patting Daring’s hoof. “Take heart, Daring Do.”

“Thank you,” Daring said.

The car’s engines slowed. “We’re here,” Iridescence stated, opening up the door.

Daring and Phillip exited the car to stand before the Dragon Embassy, the flags flapping in a light breeze and the sentries on duty staring in confusion, claws wrapped around their lances and armor shining in the setting sunlight, partially hidden by an invading force of gray clouds. As they shut the door behind them, the window rolled down.

“One more moment, detectives,” Luna called, holding them back. She leaned forward to speak more clearly to them. Spotting the Princess, the two dragon guards immediately snapped to attention; she gave them a nod before turning back to the ponies.

“Your dreams,” she said. “I expect you may have been wondering why I did not appear in your nightmares yet.”

Phillip frowned a bit as a flavor of bitterness bubbled up his throat, but nodded.

“I apologize for that, I truly do,” Luna said with a remorseful bow of her head. “Some dreams are harder to reach into than others.” She leaned forward a bit more. “It helps if the other pony tries to reach out. I know it hurts. I know it must still be hard to talk about. But hiding your pain will only make it worse. Believe me, I’ve seen it too many times.”

Phillip and Daring remained silent.

“I can help you,” Luna said. “But you have to let me.” She settled back in her chair. “I will contact you later when we have the Weakening Potion ready. Good luck, detectives.”

The thick window rolled back up and the car pulled away, disappearing into the evening traffic. Daring and Phillip turned and walked back up through the embassy doors.

The chaos that they had encountered that morning had died away, now that only a few more dragons were left inside, most of them just milling about.

Phillip approached one of the secretaries. “Where are the offices for employees and work visas?” he asked.

“That would be Consuldragon Heim. He’s in office 319, on the third floor,” the secretary replied.

“Thanks,” Phillip said. He and Daring entered the enormous elevator at the end of the hall and hit the button for the third floor. The elevator doors closed and the elevator trundled upwards, shuddering to a halt on the third floor. The doors dinged open and they walked down a long hallway of office doors, each one spaced out by several meters. A few guards stood post in the corners, leaning against the walls in obvious boredom.

Daring and Phillip trotted down to 319, which was partially cracked open. Angry voices could be heard from inside. The two detectives glanced at each other and opened the door.

Smolder and Krein were both standing on one side of an ornate oak desk littered with papers. Heim, the sea-green dragon that they had encountered that morning, was sitting on the other side, looking down at a binder. Potted plants lined the walls, providing a rainbow of color to the otherwise drab office and filling the air with mixing aromas. A large cloth bag sat next to the desk. On top of the desk stood a framed photograph of Heim with his arm wrapped around a light purple male dragon, a little shorter than Smolder, smiling embarrassedly at the camera. The towers of Manehattan Trade Center could be seen in the background behind them across the choppy waters of Horseshoe Bay.

“I still don’t see why you need this list,” Heim was saying, handing over a list.

“It’s not a coincidence that all the dragons who disappeared were ones who were on visas or were changing jobs,” Smolder replied, snatching up the list. “Somedragon who works in this department knows something.” She gave Heim a rather nasty look. “We would’ve gotten this sooner if you hadn’t flown off.”

“I needed to take care of some business,” Heim said defensively. “We all have our jobs.”

“We’ll have to arrange interviews with all of the dragons in this department,” Krein said, turning to note the ponies’ entrance. “Detectives, glad you’re here. I see you had the same idea we did.”

“This’ll help,” Phillip nodded, taking the list and looking over the list.

Daring winced at the length of the list. “That’s quite a few names—”

She paused, glancing around at the plants all around them. “Heim, you raise these yourself?” she asked, studying the broad leaf of a fern.

“It’s a hobby,” Heim said modestly. “I think it brightens up the place a little.”

“You’ve always been good with plants?” Daring asked.

“I grew up on a farm,” Heim said, straightening his back in pride. “I was tilling the land back when I was knee-high to a roc. I have my own mini-greenhouse at home.”

“You think you could grow anything?” Daring asked. “Even Nightpoppy?”

“Hmm,” Heim mused; he steepled his claws in thought, but his eyes darted to one side for a half-second. “I could, but I wouldn’t try it any day. Way too dangerous.”

“Where’d you go earlier today?” Phillip said, walking towards the desk. His eyes were on the list that Krein had handed him, but Daring could see that his gaze was unfocused, taking in more of the room through his peripherals.

“I was just visiting some of the employment offices we have set up for dragons,” Heim said, his wingtips fluttering a bit. “I was working on some paperwork.”

“You didn’t go up into the mountains?” Phillip asked innocently, pausing near Heim’s bag.

Heim blinked in confusion. “No,” he said slowly. “I haven’t been up there in a while.”

“Really,” Phillip deadpanned. He plucked a small green leaf from the strap of the bag. The elliptical leaf had jagged edges like a saw blade, and the stem had some small white flowers attached to it.

“Because this is a mountain ash leaf,” he said. “Daring and I have been all over this city and we didn’t see any mountain ash here. But it does grow on the mountains over Canterlot.”

Heim blinked and swallowed. “That...must’ve been from a while ago,” he said slowly, his wings fluttering even more. “I—hey!” he cried in protest as Phillip suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled his claw forward, studying his talons.

“Is this ash?” he asked, pointing to some black residue beneath Heim’s talons.

“Funny,” Daring said. “I remember that Nightpoppy grows in dirt from a mountain forest mixed with ash, and yet you said you don’t grow it.”

Heim’s golden eyes widened and he gulped audibly as every pair of eyes facing him narrowed.

“I think you need to answer a few questions,” Krein growled.

Heim stared for a second, then suddenly launched himself forward, snatching up his bag as he flew over everycreature’s head and crashed through the door. Crashing into the reinforced wall, he started scrambling for the window at the end of the hallway. Two guards standing post at the end of the hall started in shock, staring in confusion.

“Guards, stop him!” Krein roared as he leaped after his foe.

Snapped out of their stupor, the two dragon guards raised their lances, the blades extending towards Heim, who skidded to a halt. The blades began to glow vicious orange with enchanted fire, flooding the entire hallway with heat as doors began to open, heads peeping out in confusion.

Heim looked back and forth between the oncoming guards and the furious Krein and Smolder, trapping him in. Desperation shone in his eyes, then suddenly resolved into determination. He dug a claw into his bag and whipped out a small jar of ochre pollen, which he scattered through the air with a long exhalation.

Every dragon staggered, blinking as the honey-smelling pollen hung in the air. Then the sniffling started. Daring gasped, then tackled Phillip, diving back into the office. A moment later, every dragon was overcome with fits of violent sneezing, jets of flame rocketing out of their snouts. The multicolored array washed over the fireproof walls and floor in a cacophony, blanketing the hallway in scalding heat. Phillip and Daring ducked behind Heim's desk, hissing in pain as the forelegs were washed in intense warmth.

Taking advantage of everydragon’s momentary disability, Heim dove for the window and crashed through the reinforced glass. Flaring his wings, he shot up into the golden sky, heading for a nearby bank of clouds.

“Not…ah-choo! Not so fast!” Smolder yelled, fighting through the dragonsneeze pollen to chase after him.

“Smolder!” Krein shouted, reaching out to stop her before being overcome by another fit of sneezing.

Daring glanced at Phillip, receiving a grim nod. Seizing one of Heim's potted plants, she flung it through the window with a great crash. Phillip broke off the remnants of the glass with his baton, then ducked as Daring dove out the opening into the open evening air, banking around to the other side of the Embassy.

Heim was pushing himself as hard as he could with his great reptilian wings. Smolder was right behind him and gaining: with a great snarl, she sent a jet of flame at her target, which Heim clumsily rolled to avoid.

“What did you do to my friend?!” Smolder yelled, her rage giving her a burst of speed. She managed to tackle Heim, wrapping her arms python-like around his wings. He screeched in rage, the two dragons tumbling through the air.

“Dammit,” Daring muttered, drawing her revolver as she dove for the struggling forms.

Suddenly, Heim twisted about and his claw snapped out, talons striking into Smolder’s throat in a trained strike. Smolder reeled away, coughing and choking, and Heim seized her in a chokehold, holding her tight against his body; his torso was almost as large as Smolder’s entire body, Daring realized.

“Come any closer and I’ll snap her neck!” Heim shouted at Daring.

Daring flared her wings and halted in midair, glaring at the traitorous dragon over her iron sights. Smolder struggled and squirmed in Heim’s iron grasp, choking and gasping for air as she clawed at his arm.

Daring growled, gripping her right foreleg with her other hoof to steady her aim. Nothing short of a direct shot to the eye would be enough to stop Heim, and even if she didn't have to worry about accidentally shooting Smolder, she wasn't close enough to hit that.

“Why?” Daring asked, the gears turning rapidly in her mind. “You betrayed and killed your own kind.”

“Do you ask ponies that when they murder other ponies?” Heim growled, tightening his hold on Smolder as she tried to wriggle out of his vise. “You have family, detective? Somepony you’d do anything for?”

“Oh, let me guess,” Daring scoffed. “Your kid has cancer or something and you needed the money.”

“Yes,” Heim replied, ignoring Smolder’s weakening struggles as he kept flying back towards the hanging cloud cover. “Suvulaan is my world. I can’t just stand by and let him die.”

“You think Rare Reaction cares about you or your kid?” Daring snapped back; out of the corner of her eye, she could see Krein and the two Dragon Guards flying towards them, rage in their eyes. “You think he won’t use you for an experiment?”

“You think I don’t know that?” Heim snapped, a few tears suddenly glowing in his eyes, reflecting the sunlight. “If I die, Suvulaan dies, too. I can’t risk that!”

He hefted the limp form of Smolder in front of him as a shield, heading for the clouds. “I’m taking her. You get anywhere close, she’s dead.”

“You know you can’t get away,” Daring growled, keeping her sights on his face even as he retreated. “We will find you and Rare Reaction.”

“You can try,” Heim replied. And with a final flap of his wings, he disappeared into the clouds.

“Fuck!” Daring snapped, chasing after him just as Krein and the two guards caught up to them. She rocketed up into the clouds, suddenly finding herself blanketed by the heavy gray fog that smelled of rain and ozone. She clawed her way through and popped up again on the other side of the clouds, glaring around the darkening skies.

But Heim and Smolder were gone.

Author's Note

Iridescence and Miley Hooves belong to my friend Anzel and are major supporting characters in his awesome Royal Guard trilogy!

Oh, yeah, and Smolder's gone.

Honestly, I'm not really satisfied with this revelation--I'm pretty sure that most of you figured it out pretty quickly--but I'm trying to move through here fairly fast. I hope you enjoy regardless!

Leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Fourteen, Chapter Six: Quarry

“We should’ve known,” Krein growled, pacing the hallway outside Heim’s office. “He needed money for his son, he knew all of the dragons who went missing...we should’ve known!”

“Easy, Krein,” Daring said, not looking up from her search of Heim’s desk and drawers for any clues. “He’s smarter than we thought.” She paused for a beat, holding up a document with the official seal of Equestria on it. “This says he served in the Crystal War.”

“Yes,” Krein nodded with a growl. “We all knew about Sombra using dragons and dragon blood in his experiments; a blasphemy like that would earn a death sentence in the Dragonlands. The idea that Heim could…” He growled, clenching his claws tight as smoke billowed from his nostrils. “If he hurts Smolder, I’m going to flay him alive!” he declared.

“I think you’ll have to wait in line,” Daring commented dryly, tossing aside a binder. “Dammit. I hope Phil’s having more luck at Heim’s house than I am here.”

The sound of arguing voices from outside drew everycreature’s attention. “What are you doing back?” Niirah’s voice growled.

“Look, I heard about the dragon,” another male voice came. “I need to speak to Daring and Finder.”

“I’m in here, Ace,” Daring said, leaning out.

Detective Hidden Ace trotted up. “I heard what happened about those two dragons,” he said. “And Princess Luna briefed me about Rare Reaction. Did you find anything here?”

“Nope,” Daring said. “Phil’s over at Heim’s house, trying to find anything over there.”

“Well, I might be able to help with that,” Ace said. “Remember that Chevroneigh 1948? We found it outside that last bank.”

Daring blinked, then dove out the door. “You could’ve said that earlier! C’mon!”

The white Chevroneigh truck sat in the alley behind the Equestrian Amalgamated Trust, the beautiful white facade belying the dinginess of the dirty, graffiti-strewn alley. The truck itself molded into the surroundings quite well: the paint was fading and the chassis was covered with dents and bumps, with rust creeping up from the undercarriage.

“License plate’s gone, and the VIN’s been removed,” the forensic unicorn studying the interior of the cab reported as Daring and Ace approached, ducking the crime scene tape at the mouth of the alley. “We might have some trouble narrowing down who owns this.”

Daring noticed a faint chalk circle drawn around the truck. “He used some kinda spell to hide it?” she asked.

“An Ignore-Me spell woven into the circle; we only noticed it when one of our forensic guys broke the circle on accident,” Ace nodded. “Rare’s got some pretty decent magic backing him up.”

Daring walked around the truck to the back. After receiving a nod from the forensic worker, she carefully opened up the hatch to expose the inside.

The large bed of the truck had several grooves in the bottom of it. The first thing she spotted was the small debris embedded in said grooves. “Granite?” she wondered aloud, prodding at the cracked stone fragments. “These look more like broken fragments than just pebbles or something. Like he smashed a stone tablet or something. Hmm...no soil fragments either so it’s not just from the ground.”

“Yeah, but it’s generic,” Ace stated. “It could’ve come from anyw—”

He paused, staring in shock. Daring followed his gaze and spotted one fragment: a piece shaped like a paw print, one toe partially missing, metal instead of stone. Ace slowly reached out with his magic and lifted it up.

As Daring feared, it was indeed a small silver earring.

Ace pulled a picture out of his coat. The photograph was taken in front of some bar and featured Hidden Ace standing with his foreleg around a blue unicorn with a curly blonde mane and three paw prints for a cutie mark, both ponies mugging for the camera with wide grins that could only be worn by best friends without a care in the world.

A silver paw print earring glittered on Paw Print’s ear.

Ace’s hoof trembled, causing the picture to shake violently. His breathing hitched, hissing through gritted teeth. Tears shimmered in his narrowed eyes.

“I need a moment,” he growled before Daring could say anything, retreating to a corner of the alley, away from any prying eyes. He faced the wall, his shoulders shaking, sometimes jerking violently as he fought to control himself.

Daring stared piteously at him for a few seconds, futile words tumbling in her gut, then pushed it aside and focused on her work. She continued to scan the bed, noting some loose scales and bits of fur that would no doubt be collected and analyzed later, but nothing else of note. The granite remained in the grooves: there wasn’t a lot, but enough to be noticeable, and enough to make her wonder.

Daring sat for a moment, allowing the clues to tumble freely in her mind. Rare Reactions’ face floated before her, twisted in rage as the motorcycle came sailing towards Phillip. For just a moment, she saw terror etched in his face before the massive metal crushed him into the ground with a horrific sound, spreading red blood across the asphalt—

Daring shook herself out of the vision, ordering her heart to be still. It didn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen.

She steadied her breathing, focusing. The evidence floated before her: Heim. Smolder. Rare. Banks. Granite. Truck. Seed and mice. Bodies…

A flash of insight raced across her mind. She turned back to the truck, staring at the crushed stone fragments, turning over the broken butterfly earring in her hooves.

“I think I know where these came from, and how he’s getting rid of the bodies,” she said aloud.

“What’s that?” the forensic unicorn asked.

“He’s got a cockatrice,” Daring said. “That explains the seed and the mice he had in his pack. He turns the bodies into stone, smashes them up, and probably dumps them somewhere.”

“I think you’re right,” Ace growled, walking back over. “But that doesn’t solve the problem of where he’s hiding.”

“It’d have to be somewhere he could work uninterrupted, with all the gear that that must include,” Daring mused out loud. “Somewhere he could make the noise of breaking the statues up. And somewhere where he could store all of that cash he’s got by now.”

“And someplace where some gravel wouldn’t be out of place,” Ace added.

“Daring!” a voice called, and Daring looked up with a brief sigh of relief to see Phillip ducking beneath the tape. “You find anything?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Daring said, holding up the earring. “He’s using a cockatrice to get rid of the bodies.”

Phillip stared at the earring for a bit, then closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. “Bugger. Need to think of a way around that. Anything else?”

“Not much here,” Daring admitted. “You find anything at Heim’s place?”

“Not much,” Phillip admitted. “But there were some odd payments in his checkbook that I found. Listed several checks being paid to somepony named Silver Lining.”

Ace’s ears perked up. “Silver Lining? That's not a pony, that's a real estate company. They own mines and quarries.”

“The payments might be bribes to use one of their properties,” Phillip said. “We’ll have to talk to them, find out which.”

Daring and Phillip stood at the top of a steep decline, looking down a winding dirt road leading to their target. A chain-link fence with a padlock provided a token attempt at security. Behind it was a huge pit of granite walls, gigantic steps of stone that led down into a muddy pit. Set on a plateau of dirt overlooking the pit was a semi-dilapidated factory of rotting wood and rusting metal, the frames in the windows bare. Some rusting construction equipment and a few smaller buildings lay scattered on the dirt plateau, abandoned nearly a year prior when the original company folded and was bought out by Silver Lining Industries.

“You think he’s down there?” Daring asked, staring down at the quarry with her binoculars, the night vision enchantment allowing her to see into the darkening pit with perfect clarity even as the sun crept lower in the sky and more clouds rolled over the domes overhead, rumbling with distant thunder.

“I’m sure,” Phillip said, crouching down on the ground next to the gate. “I recognize this tire track. The truck’s been coming in and out of here.”

Daring gritted her teeth as another roll of thunder echoed around the stone walls. Scanning the construction equipment scattered amongst the plateau, she spotted a machine with a hopper feeding into a conveyer belt. She recognized it as a rock crusher.

She also noticed the gray pebbles that were scattered on the ground around the machine and the tire tracks that led from it to the edge of the pit. A sick feeling nestled in her gut and she growled.

“Smolder could be dead by now. We should be headed down there.”

“You wanna take on a dragon, a cockatrice, and a superstrong insane unicorn by yourself, be my guest,” Phillip commented dryly.

Daring frowned for a moment, then grunted in acquiesce. “Fair.”

A few droplets tumbled from the sky, then sheets of rain began to pour down. “Great,” Daring grumbled, tilting her pith helmet over her face. “Did Awely-Awely and Angkakert really need to do this now?” she asked dryly.

Phillip looked up at the gray skies overhead. Rare Reaction’s face danced before his eyes, twisted in rage as the motorcycle tumbled towards him. For a moment, the traitor’s eyes turned black as pitch and black serpents slithered out of a mouth that was opened impossibly wide. Phillip’s hoof shook and his breathing hitched, heart trembling in his chest.

But the rain poured gently on his back, cool and soothing. The wind whispered over his body, and slowly he breathed in the calming scent. One hoof went up to the necklace of Angkakert around his neck and he rubbed the carved wood. He thought, once again, that he felt a tingle of power inside the totem, like a small lightning bolt dancing against his skin.

Calm, calm, he whispered to himself, his heartbeat slowing to a steady drumbeat.

“You okay?” Daring asked, looking at him in concern. “You were shaking for a bit.”

“I’m fine,” Phillip replied, keeping his eyes on the buildings below. His enemy was down there, along with Smolder, an innocent endangered. He allowed the rage to slowly slither across his body, washing away the fear in his veins like a rising tide, then commanded it to settle in his gut like a coiled serpent, where it lay controlled, ready.

“Are you okay?” he asked Daring.

She frowned for a bit, her own hoof going up as if on its own to the totem of Awely-Awely around her neck. She gently stroked the carved face of the queen of the wandjina for a moment, then took a breath of the rainy wind. “I’m okay,” she nodded, her eyes hard, without a single trace of fear or doubt.

As if on cue, the sound of tires crunching on gravel announced the approach of a contingent of cruisers and vans, led by an armored limousine, which parked right behind Phillip and Daring. Princess Luna exited the limousine almost before it had stopped, rain glistening off her silver cuirass.

“Detective Ace, do you have the warrant?” she asked the unicorn detective exiting the unmarked car as she tied her mane back into a ponytail.

“Got it here, Your Highness,” Ace grunted as he exited his cruiser, holding up the signed and sealed piece of paper.

“You joining us, Princess?” Daring asked.

“A dragon, a cockatrice, and a rogue dark magician are at large. This is beyond the scope of normal police,” Luna stated as Iridescence and five other Royal Guards exited, already equipped with full-body armor and N4 submachine guns. “You will stand aside and allow us to handle this.”

A sting of bitterness struck both Phillip and Daring. “Your Highness, we’ve handled eldritch monsters,” Daring protested. “We—”

“Got lucky,” Luna interrupted, giving her a sympathetic look. “You survived last time because you were lucky that it was weakened and underestimated you. Please, you need not endanger yourselves trying to fight somepony who is out of your weight class. Let us handle this.”

Daring glared up at the Princess, who maintained her calm composure. Seeing that she was not going to budge, Daring sighed and reluctantly nodded.

“Thank you,” Luna nodded, turning as a dragon who seemed to be built from slabs of solid gray stone exited a large black van, followed by a half dozen Dragon Guards, each wearing heavy armor and carrying an enchanted lance. “Commander Dwiin?” Luna asked.

“We’ll handle the traitor,” Dwiin growled to Luna. “You worry about the cockatrice and the wizard.”

“We will,” Luna declared as dragons and Royal Guards gathered around her, readying weapons. Luna struck the crescent moon emblem on the chest of her cuirass with a hoof. Metal pieces extended from the cuirass, unfurling into leg armor and a helmet.

“Be still for a moment, all of you. This will be slightly uncomfortable,” Luna announced to the Guards around her. Her horn lit up, then everypony and everydragon’s eyes flashed with azure light, drawing grunts of pain. “There,” Luna declared. “You are now all temporarily immune to the cockatrice’s gaze. But be forewarned: it has other weapons, namely its claws and venomous saliva.”

“Great,” one of the Royal Guards muttered. “Because the dragon and the superstrong wizard weren’t bad enough.”

“The wizard’s strength can be countered,” Luna stated, pulling several syringes filled with a pale green liquid out of her saddlebags. “This is a weakening potion, strong enough to put him into a powerful lassitude. Inject Rare Reaction with this, and he will be easy to defeat.”

“Of course, we have to get close enough to him to do that,” a dragon commented as the Princess handed the syringes out.

“One step at a time,” Dwiin replied as he took one of the syringes. He grunted and tilted his neck to the side, loosening the muscles with a crack. “All right, team, let’s take ‘em down!”

With a chorus of roars, the dragons took to the sky and flew down to the quarry, with Luna and her Royal Guards teleporting down to the bottom of the dirt path in a flash of blue light. Daring, Phillip, and Ace were left standing at the top of the road.

“This is bullshit,” Daring growled to herself, sitting down and huffing like a child being sent to timeout.

“I, for one, am perfectly content to let the dragons and the Royal Guards deal with it,” Ace said, sitting down.

Phillip scowled and raised his binoculars to his eyes, watching as the team stacked up at the metal doors of the factory. His heart continued to beat steadily, like a drumbeat on his ribs.

Wait. Wait.

“Iridescence, be ready,” Luna ordered. Her sergeant nodded tersely, hooves tightly gripping her submachine gun, and her horn glowed silver, a sphere of light like a miniature star blossoming from the tip. The Princess’ horn glowed, then the entire door was yanked off its hinges as if it had been pushed by a giant from inside the building, skidding across the ground.

Iridescence immediately followed by throwing the sphere of light into the factory. Everypony turned away as the light bomb detonated, light pouring out of the doors and windows as if the sun had just risen within. A roar of pain and confusion came from inside.

“Go, go!” Dwiin shouted as the ponies and dragons poured into the door, spreading out to cover every corner. Guns were raised and lances glowed with enchanted fire.

What had been the place where stone from the quarry was shaped, smoothed, carved, and polished was now merely empty rooms with torn-down walls. Dust clung to what little furniture was left.

They cleared the first few rooms, then proceeded around a corner to an open area lined with conveyor belts and countertops. The countertops were littered with laboratory equipment, bottles, and vats filled with ingredients and supplies that no one had a name for: one burner was still on, the green liquid in the jar it was placed beneath bubbling furiously. At the end of one counter was a large cubed water tank. The top was open to reveal that the tank was filled with a thick, dark red liquid that filled the room with a nauseating reek of copper. Dwiin and several of the dragons with him growled at the scent.

Light glittered in the back. Luna turned the spotlight beam from her horn upon it and discovered the source to be piles and piles of bits and diamonds, the stolen loot from the banks.

“Keep your eyes open,” Iridescence ordered as they proceeded forward, eyes and flashlights panning over every shadow three times.

A feeble moaning from the corner drew the group’s attention. The beams of the flashlights revealed Smolder, chained down to a slab with iron manacles, her mouth secured with a metal muzzle, head and eyes rolling slowly. A needle had been stabbed into her forearm, with a long vein carrying her blood into a large vat, which was about a quarter full; another IV led to a stand with a jar of pale white liquid that trickled down into her other forearm.

“I’ll get her out,” Dwiin stated, rushing forward. He carefully pulled the tubes from Smolder’s arm and began to bandage the wounds as two other guards began to remove her shackles. Smolder groaned as she fought the sedative; she tried to sit up, but Dwiin gently pushed her down. “Easy, it’s okay,” he soothed.

“Contact!” a Royal Guard shouted, whipping his submachine gun around. Everycreature turned their head to follow, eyes focusing on the shape that was lunging out at them from the shadows.

Heim stood stock-still beneath their gazes, eyes wide in horror, one forearm held up before his face as if to shield himself. He didn’t move despite having several guns aimed directly at him.

A moment later, everyone realized that this was because he’d been turned into stone. Weapons were slowly lowered.

“Guess Rare didn’t need his help anymore,” a dragon commented.

Luna swept the statue up and down with a beam of azure magic. "He is recently petrified," she reported. "He can be restored, but will die soon if we do not make haste."

"Leave him like that, I say," one of the dragon guards grumbled.

A faint whistling caused everyone to pause. Luna sniffed the air and her nose wrinkled at the acrid scent of kerosene.

Then she realized that it was coming from the bubbling green liquid in the boiling jar. Which was bubbling even more violently and now starting to whistle loudly. Before her eyes, the liquid caught fire as the shriek reached a crescendo, flames billowing out of the top of the jar into the air like clouds.

“OUT!” she ordered. Dwiin seized Smolder and dove for the exit as everyone turned and sprinted for the door. The flames spread over the air, sparks falling like rain onto the concrete.

And then came a great roar.

The explosion echoed off the stone of the quarry, roaring back at the thundering skies. Flames shot out of the factory doors and windows, smoke catapulting into the air. Bodies were hurled out of the factory like rag dolls, tumbling across the ground.

“Shit!” Daring cried, springing to her hooves. With a flap of her wings, she took to the sky and soared down to the faintly stirring forms that surrounded the burning edifice.

“Daring!” Phillip called. “Don’t—bugger,” he growled, vaulting the fence and sprinting down after her. Ace clumsily climbed over the fence and tumbled to the ground before giving chase, coat flapping in the rainy wind.

Over to the right, Phillip spotted movement between the abandoned construction equipment. Raising his binoculars to his eyes as he slowed to a trot, he spotted Rare Reaction, face twisted in rage, emerging from behind the rock crusher, stamping the granite pebbles into the mud beneath his hooves. He drew back his teeth in a snarl, and Phillip saw through the lenses that his teeth had sharpened into fangs, and his tongue was now slightly forked.

And then came a slithering motion behind him and for the first time, Phillip saw the cockatrice. Its body was shaped like a chicken, but only vaguely, for instead of feathers, it was clothed in dark green scales that shimmered dangerously, with viciously sharp claws extending from its rotund belly. Its tail was like that of a dinosaur, long and studded with purple spines. It flapped its reptilian wings to propel itself forward in a bizarre motion that combined slithering, hopping, and gliding. Its head was the only part of it that was made of feathers, but it resembled a chicken like a timberwolf resembles a pomeranian. Its red crest appeared to be made of sharp spines, needle-like fangs dangled from its hawkishly sharp beak, and its eyes glowed a solid crimson.

It should’ve looked ridiculous. It was horrifying.

As Phillip watched, the cockatrice pounced upon one of the dazed dragons. The dragon locked eyes with the beast, seemingly unable to turn away, but nothing happened. The cockatrice hissed like an enormous serpent, then spat into the dragon’s face. Sickly green liquid spewed from its beak right into the dragon’s eyes. The armored dragon screeched in pain and clutched his face, writhing as tears and acid ran down his face.

Rare Reaction’s horn lit up and he began to chant, a circle of purple energy burning into the ground around him. “Thutshig nd b’kn, gb’ran nd nt’yah!” he howled. “Rise again and serve me!”

The muddy water bubbled and churned, and then granite pebbles flew from the surface like they were pulled by a tornado, forcing the soldiers and dragons to duck beneath the projectiles. They circled around the laughing Rare Reaction. Stone legs formed, then trunks, tails, wings, and heads.

The fourteen missing dragons and Detective Paw Print stood before them, stone expressions forever frozen into looks of fear as they staggered towards the still-dazed ponies and dragons, every motion making a low grinding noise.

“Die!” Rare Reaction screamed, seizing a frontloader’s rear wheels and heaving it up with a massive grunt. The metal behemoth rolled end over end, crashing noisily against the ground as it tumbled towards a pair of Royal Guards, who looked up too late to dodge.

A beam of azure magic pierced the sky with a scream and the tractor was destroyed in a flash.

“Get up, soldiers!” Luna ordered, drawing her silver broadsword from its sheath. “We are not dead yet!”

Rare pointed and the golems lunged forward, stone limbs flailing at every enemy they could reach. With a crashing, the still petrified Heim staggered out of the burning factory, lunging at a Royal Guard that just barely managed to roll out of the way.

Luna zipped past the golems and charged at Rare, who stood his ground. “I do not fear you!” the former major snarled. “I served in the war!”

He snapped his hoof out in a punch, the limb racing through the air like a train, enough power to plow through bone and flesh with one strike. A train that came to an abrupt halt when it impacted against Luna’s hoof, the reverberation of the crash echoing across the quarry.

“I have served in dozens,” Luna snarled to the shocked Rare before a glowing blue cannonball sent him flying back into a stone wall. The crash of his body against the stone mixed with the growing chaos of gunfire, roars, shouts, and hissing flames as the golems lunged at the guards; the sound of battle was matched by crackles and booms from the storm overhead.

Hauling a dragon guard back to his claws, Daring looked up just in time to see what had been a sea dragon swinging her granite fists down at her head. Diving to one side, Daring rolled through the mud, drawing a smoke bomb from her vest and flinging it at her hooves. A flash of light and a billowing of acrid smoke covered her escape as she retreated back to where Dwiin was holding up Smolder. The young dragon's head was rolling and she groaned as she tried to rouse herself.

As Daring reached her, another stone golem crashed down in front of them. Everyone looked up at the dragoness before them. The once-brown eyes were now dark and wide with horror, the smiling jaw locked open in a silent scream, but they all recognized her stony build and sharpened teeth.

“Kreidol,” Smolder whispered.

With a long grinding noise, Kreidol raised her forearm to crush her friend, her stone body backlit by a flash of lightning.

Dwiin dived to one side to avoid it as Daring lunged at the blow, kusarifundo held tight between both hooves. She met the blow and twisted to one side, entangling the stone limb in her rope as she pulled forward, stretching out her hind leg in front of Kreidol’s. She grinned as the golem stumbled forward, tripping over her leg and toppling into the mud with a crash.

Daring’s grin was wiped from her face when a granite wing smashed into her chest, sending her flying. She crashed to the ground and clumsily rolled with a grunt, wheezing and clutching her burning ribs.

Hurts, but nothing’s broken. Get the fuck up! she ordered herself.

Hissing in breaths, she pulled herself to her hooves just in time to see Paw Print lumbering towards her; the unicorn’s mouth was locked open in what looked like a wail and Daring realized that she had died crying. That didn’t stop her from charging at her with murderous intent.

“Great,” she grumbled, squinting through the rain at her foe and spinning her kusarifundo to gain momentum, trying to consider how she was going to hurt stone.

“Arestius!”

A bright blue bolt struck Paw Print and encompassed her in a fuzzy aura, and the golem slowed as if it was trying to run through molasses. Phillip bounded past Daring and seized the statue’s forelimbs, twisting to throw it over his shoulder and onto the ground with a crash of mud.

“You okay?” he called to Daring as Hidden Ace caught up to them, wrapping magical bands around the golem to pin it to the ground.

“I’m fine,” Daring wheezed, clutching her chest as another wave of pain crashed through her body in protest of speech.

“No need to thank me,” Ace muttered, turning and firing another slowing spell at Kreidol, who was attacking one of the Dragon Guards. The Dragon Guard swung her lance with a grunt, the blunt end smashing the statue's legs beneath the knees.

The other dragons were currently fighting the golems: Daring spotted Dwiin trying to protect Smolder while holding off a stone dragon that was clawing violently at Dwiin’s wings. Princess Luna, having been disarmed of her sword, was fighting Rare with the aid of her Guards; the mad unicorn was wearing a suit of armor constructed of solid purple magic that glowed as it blocked bullets and blows alike. Rare slipped one of Luna’s punches and countered with an uppercut that dented her cuirass like a sledgehammer warping a tin sheet, then turned and ripped a chunk of stone the size of an engine block from the ground, hurling it at Iridescence, who was currently fighting another golem. The Guardsmare teleported out of the way just in time to dodge the boulder, but was immediately seized from behind by the golem of a sea dragon.

“Let’s help Luna!” she called, rallying herself to charge.

A scream bade her halt. Daring looked over to see Hidden Ace, holding a hoof up before his terrified eyes as he screamed in horror. A hoof that was rapidly turning to stone.

The cockatrice was standing before him, red eyes shining with malice. Before either Phil or Daring could do anything, Ace was completely encased in stone, jaw locked in a scream. With a hiss, the cockatrice turned to them.

Slamming his eyes shut, Phillip sprinted at the cockatrice, snapping his baton open. The cockatrice growled and flapped away from him: tracking the beast by sound, Phillip drew his boomerang and threw it in one swift motion. The weapon whistled as it spun through the air, its sound carrying even through the cacophony of battle, and Phillip heard it strike scaly flesh with a thwack and a squawk. Grinning in victory, he smashed his baton down like a hammer at the source of the noise.

His strike impacted against mud instead of flesh, and then he heard a heavy step beside him. Risking a look up, he spotted Heim, his tortured countenance inches away from his own face, about to bring his stone claws down onto his head.

“Fuck!” he shouted, diving to the side and rolling through the mud, narrowly avoiding the blow that would’ve crushed him.

The cockatrice turned now to a flanking Daring. With a gasp, Daring turned away and shut her eyes. Too late, she heard it hissing in a breath.

Burning pain spread across her foreleg and she screamed as the acidic breath ravaged her flesh, instinctively opening her eyes to study the wound. The green saliva was spread across her foreleg, boils and burns bubbling up her reddening skin.

A moment later, her gaze was drawn like a magnet upwards. The red eyes locked onto hers and she felt a wave of power crash over her; she swore that the monster’s beak curled into a grin.

A terrible feeling of coldness began to spread across her hind legs, and Daring felt her heart tremble as she realized that she could no longer feel her hooves. The image of her limbs turning into stone, the granite crawling up her body to her head, flashed before her eyes.

Look away! Move! Do something! she screamed at herself.

But her eyes were locked onto the red orbs like she was already paralyzed. The horrific numbness was already spreading up her flanks, to her wings. She tried to lift her foreleg to her shoulder holster, but it moved slowly, the injured muscles screeching in agony.

She was sliding her foreleg into the weapon's sleeve, but already her body was numbing and she was choking as her lungs failed. Her vision was blurring, the red eyes seemingly growing in size to encompass her vision, and she knew that it would be the last thing she saw…

And then a purple jet of light cleaved her vision and the cockatrice was sent flying, squawking and screeching in pain. Feeling returned to Daring in a flash and she collapsed, gasping and shaking. She glanced back at her hind legs and let out a hysterical laugh of relief when she saw not a trace of stone on her body.

Looking up, she saw Smolder standing a few feet away, swaying slightly even as smoke billowed from her nostrils and her eyes glowed with defiance.

“Fuck off,” she snarled at the cockatrice, which was feebly stirring in the scorched mud, smoke hissing as it rose off its blackened scales.

Snapping back to reality, Daring drew her pistol fully and opened fire, six disciplined shots barking out. Bullets smacked into the cockatrice’s body, with Daring’s two final shots snapping its head back like a twig, but no blood was to be seen. The cockatrice writhed on the ground, hissing in anger as it tried to get back onto its feet.

“Crap,” Daring muttered, taking a step back, her mind racing furiously. A desperate idea flashed across her mind, and she grabbed at her vest.

The cockatrice squawked in fury and its head snapped up, furious red eyes locking onto Daring again. But then it let out a cry of alarm, fear flashing across its beaked face when it saw what she was carrying.

“Ha!” Daring taunted, holding out her hoof mirror like a shield as she approached. “Reflect on this, you creep!”

The cockatrice let out a high-pitched screech of fear, its gaze seemingly frozen on its reflection. First its tail, then its legs and wings turned to stone. The beast shrieked and writhed to escape, but all in vain: the stone spread up its body, then its head, then lastly covered its eyes, the red glow fading away behind the stone seals. The statue fell to the ground, rain falling into its shadowed eye sockets.

With a snap, the stone encasing Hidden Ace cracked and broke apart like a shell. The unicorn shook his head, shuddering. “Holy shit, I’m alive!” he gasped, patting his chest.

Kreidol, Paw Print, and the other golems crumbled, then fell apart into pieces, sinking into the mud. Heim’s stone body cracked, then he too was returned to flesh, his punch freezing in midair. He barely had time to gasp out a “What—?” before Phillip seized his extended forelimb, flinging him over his shoulder and onto the ground with a wet smack. His yelp of fear turned into a cry of pain when Phillip trapped his forearm in a pin, pressing the dragon’s elbow against his knee.

“Stop! Stop! I surrender!” Heim wailed.

“Yeah, you probably should’ve tried that sooner,” Daring snarled, giving him a kick in the gut for good measure that left him wheezing and her wincing as fresh pain ran up her leg. Three Dragon Guards ran up to shackle Heim.

Looking up, Daring caught sight of Hidden Ace staring down at a pile of pebbles where Paw Print had once lain, a haunted look in his eyes like he was staring right through the ground. Her heart twisted like something had grabbed it in her chest and squeezed.

Rare Reaction’s bellow of rage caught everyone’s attention. Three of Luna’s Royal Guards, their armor dented and covered in mud, had dogpiled the unicorn, who was writhing beneath them in impotent hatred; the other Royal Guards lay dazed around the battlefield. Luna, her armor battered and her one eye shining in fury, was pulling out a syringe of pale green liquid as she approached.

“Hold him still!” she commanded her guards, who were struggling to keep Rare still even as he nearly heaved them all off. One of the Guards grabbed at Rare’s horn, tilting his head back to expose his neck.

“No!” Rare howled, his forked tongue flashing as Luna jammed the syringe into his neck, pushing down on the plunger.

His horn sparked, then there was a boom like thunder and all of the Guards and Luna were flung like ragdolls by a great wave of purple energy, sent screaming through the rain. Snarling, Rare grabbed the syringe from his neck, glaring at the half-full container, then the syringe glowed with a purple aura.

A moment later, both it and the syringes being carried by the other ponies and dragons shattered into pieces, the weakening potion spilling into the mud to be washed away by the rain.

“Great!” Daring snapped.

Panting, Rare Reaction looked around as his magic armor fizzled out, assessing the situation. Luna and her Guards were scrambling back to their hooves; worse, Dwiin and the other Dragon Guards were fast approaching. With a growl, he sprinted up towards the path, his body glowing with purple energy that carried him at the speed of a car.

Time froze for Phillip. His eyes tracked the path of his target, predicting his movement. He knew that he was going to pass him, that he was going to run between him and the great mud pit where stone had once been extracted.

A plan flashed in his mind. He watched as in the span of a single inhalation, Rare came in range; Phillip could see now the subtle tinting of the tattoos that were added over his real cutie marks, the sweat covering his coat, his pointed teeth clenched in rage.

Now!

With a yell, he dove forward and his forelegs met flesh. Rare screamed in shocked rage as the two stallions flew through the air, propelled by their combined momentum.

The ground left them, the wind whistled, and then they splashed into the mud. Filthy water filled Phillip’s lungs and he rolled away in the knee-deep muck, sputtering and coughing, allowing the rain to wash the mud from his face.

Then he bumped into a wall where there shouldn’t have been one and the rain suddenly ceased, like a shower had been turned off. Looking up, he realized that he was trapped inside a purple bubble of energy. Daring was currently flying about it, huffing in exhaustion as she pounded weakly against the shield; Ace was firing spells at it, all of them bouncing off harmlessly. The dragons stood on the ledge of the pit, staring down at him with bated breath.

The mud behind him rippled. Phillip dove aside and rolled through the mud as a bellowing stallion leaped at him, narrowly missing. Drawing his pistol in the middle of his roll, Phillip snapped his sights up to Rare’s torso and pressed down on the trigger.

The bullet whistled over Rare’s form as he ducked and a purple aura seized his weapon, yanking it from his foreleg and flinging it into the mud, where it sank beneath the surface.

“There’s no way out for you,” Phillip snarled at Rare, snapping his baton open with a flick of his wrist.

“I don’t care!” the mad pony shouted back, lifting up a stick that had fallen into the mud. The stick, about as wide across as a pony’s thigh bone, cracked in his grip, then snapped in half. “You are trapped in here, and I’ll gladly die here to crush your skull!” Rare snarled.

Crap, Phillip thought, watching the two halves of the stick splash into the mud. The weakening potion must have had some effect, but Rare was still strong enough to break him in half if he got a good hold on him.

So don’t let him get a hold of you.

Rare Reaction’s screech of hate mixed with a crackle of thunder as he charged. Instantly, Phillip realized that he had an advantage: knee-deep in the mud, Rare was slowed down significantly.

He sidestepped and swung his baton, the weapon cracking down on Rare’s horn. The appendage splintered and purple sparks flew from it as the shield shuddered and flickered. Rare shrieked like a rabid animal and threw himself at Phillip. His shoulder rammed into Phillip’s gut and he was sent flying with a grunt, tumbling through the mud and striking the ground to break his fall. His heart pounded in his chest with a quick, but steady beat.

That’s good. Use the fear. Use the anger. He’s just another punk. You can do this.

Rare was after him again, sloshing through the muck and sending a wild haymaker at Phillip’s head. Slipping the sloppy attack, Phillip countered with a baton strike to floating ribs, a thrill of victory rushing through his body at the crackle of breaking bones.

An elbow rushed at his face like a bullet. Phillip ducked, his trilby falling from his head over his eyes; snatching it up, he tossed the hat at Rare’s face. The unicorn roared, swinging blindly, and Phillip’s struck at his kneecap, cursing as Rare's last-second shift caused the blow to smack against his thigh instead.

The two combatants disengaged, then circled each other like caged tigers. Lightning crackled overhead and rain began to fall in earnest, pounding on the flickering shield. Rare panted and snarled, limping slightly on the wounded leg; Phillip glared coldly, tightening his grip on his baton as he drew his breath in heavy, controlled cycles.

“Come on, Phil!” Daring shouted, still trying to beat through the shield. Luna was hovering over her, concentrating a beam of thin azure magic onto the dome, which was crackling as it fought off her invasion. Ace had given up trying to break the shield and was now watching in silence, eyes wide with horror. Upon the ledge, the dragons and Royal Guards were roaring and cheering, stamping their hooves and lances against the ground in support.

Rare leaped again and again Phillip sidestepped, flinging a hoofful of mud into Rare’s face. The blinded beast crashed into the ground and Phillip bucked him hard in the side with a crash like thunder. Rare stumbled, breath whooshing out of his chest as ribs fractured, but stayed on his hooves and lunged.

His hoof seized Phillip’s tail and Phillip gasped in shock as he was yanked towards his foe. Looking up, he spotted Rare's face twisted in rage, hooves raised in preparation to squash him beneath. With an almost reflexive motion, Phillip sent his elbow up into Rare's crotch and the unicorn doubled over with a hiss of pain, holding his family jewels as he kicked at Phil. Phil rolled out of the way, cold mud splashing over him as he climbed back to his hooves.

A living avalanche that bellowed like a steam engine splashed towards him, too fast to dodge. A hoof crashed into his jaw and Phillip felt like he’d been hit by a train, somehow managing to roll with the blow; his head spun, his vision whited out with pain, and he felt himself whirling through the air. He landed facedown in the mud, gasping, spitting out blood and teeth, vision returning in watercolor blurs of gray and brown.

“Look out!” Daring and Luna both shouted.

Lifting his pounding head, Phillip saw five Rare Reactions racing at him. He forced himself to roll away, drawing his boomerang and flinging it out. The weapon flailed clumsily through the air and landed pathetically into the muck.

“Fuck!” he gasped and then Rare Reaction was upon him, seizing him by the throat and lifting him up. Phillip choked and sputtered, flailing helplessly at the iron rod that was crushing his neck. Blackness was creeping in around his vision, which was centered on Rare’s venomous eyes, burning with hate.

“This mud hole is your grave!” the unicorn snarled.

No! I am not dying here!

With a defiant burst of energy like a lightning bolt, Phillip simultaneously struck Rare on both ears with his forelegs, simultaneously driving his hind hooves into the unicorn's knees. Rare howled in pain and staggered, clutching his head.

Phillip gasped in air as he landed, and immediately, blindly pounced, wrapping his forelimbs around Rare’s hind legs and driving his shoulder forward even as his aching body protested every movement. Rare toppled over, scrabbling at him to try to pull him down with him. Phil wound up on top of his foe, who was trying to bear hug him.

Don't let him get up!

Shoving the offending limbs away, Phillip drove his knee up with a convulsive movement like a cough, grinning as he felt his bone slamming into the soft flesh of Rare's crotch. The unicorn's scream was cut off when Phil struck him with two quick hooks to the face, then headbutted him in the nose. Warm blood washed over his face as the bone broke and Rare clutched at his face.

Seizing Rare's right foreleg, Phillip stood up and yanked it out straight like a lever. Once more, he drove his knee up, right at Rare's elbow. Bones snapped like thunder and Rare screamed in agony as his limb was pushed past the breaking point.

Twin hammers slammed into the back of Phil's hind legs and Phillip splashed back into the mud with a grunt, rolling back faceup in a heartbeat. Rare slithered back through the mud, drawing his knee back and sending it at Phillip’s chest, the movement sluggish and desperate.

Finish it.

A burst of energy rushed through his veins and he dodged to one side, trapping Rare's hind leg in his own forelegs. Phillip laid down on his side so that he wound up perpendicular to his foe, his own limbs wrapped python-like around Rare’s hind leg, which he pulled straight out. Rare yelled in disbelief, futilely writhing to escape the lock.

“You made a mistake,” he growled through a mouthful of mud as thunder boomed overhead. “You didn’t trap me here with you. You trapped yourself in here with me.”

He pushed. Bones and joints cracked and broke. Rare Reaction screamed, the shield disintegrating into purple specks of light. He curled up into a ball, covering his bloodied face and choking on mud even as Luna pounced upon him, binding him with bands of magical energy.

Panting, Phillip lay in the mud as the rain washed over his aching body, fresh pain covering up the adrenaline; his head began to pound rhythmically like someone was using his skull as a clock tower bell. Daring landed next to him, worry glowing in her eyes as she checked him over, hissing as she ran her hooves over his bruises. The dragons were roaring in triumphant cheers as Dwiin wrapped Rare Reaction in shackles.

“We won, right?” Phillip muttered to Daring, still gripping Angkakert in his hoof.

“Yeah, I think we did,” Daring grinned at him.

“Okay, good,” Phillip nodded with a smile and gratefully passed out.

Author's Note

Long chapter. I hope that you enjoyed that fight! Just one more chapter and then we can call this case closed.

Like what you read? Leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Fourteen, Chapter Seven: No Longer Alone

The first thing Phillip noticed when he started to wake up was a thick, fluffy mattress that he was laying upon, covered by a thin cotton sheet that smelled far too clean: only a hospital bed felt and smelled like that. The second thing he noticed was the dull, thumping pain that spread across his entire head, which made him groan: the bandages that were wrapped around his skull and jaw shifted as he moved, scratching at his flesh and smelling of oil and salves.

And then the third thing he noticed was a scent tickling his nostrils: the familiar, teasing aroma of jasmine shampoo and rain. A smile crossed his face before he even opened his eyes, raising a hoof to run it through the cloud-soft mane.

“G’day,” he whispered in a slightly raspy voice, opening his eyes to behold Daring curled up on top of him, her head resting on his chest.

She beamed up at him, raising her head to kiss him on the nose. “Don’t scare me like that, you dork,” she said. “I’m the impulsive one, remember?”

“You know, we seem to be winding up in here a lot,” Phillip said, snuggling Daring as he looked around the hospital room, which looked practically identical to every other one he’d been in. The morning sun was shining through the window, warm on his face. “Was I out all night?” he asked, reaching up to examine the golden band around his head, tingling with the magic that was repairing his concussion. He coughed, his throat prickling in protest of speech.

“And most of the morning,” Daring replied, getting off of him and stretching.

“Did we lose anypony?” Phillip asked, stomach twisting in worried anticipation.

“No casualties,” Daring smiled broadly. “Except for that damn cockatrice.” Her smile vanished after a moment, replaced by a sad frown. “Unfortunately, Luna couldn’t bring back any of the dragons or Paw Print.”

Phillip took her hoof. “We got the wanker, right?” he asked.

Daring nodded. “Heim spilled everything. Rare Reaction is in the prison infirmary: from what I’m told, he was ranting for hours before they finally decided to tranq him.”

Phillip nodded. “At least there’s that.”

A nurse entered the room. “Oh, Mister Finder,” he said, giving his patient a smile and a quick scan. “How are you feeling?”

“Throat and head hurt, but I’ve been worse,” Phillip replied.

Daring gave him a tall glass of ice water from the side table while the nurse scanned him over, checked his pulse and breathing, and shone a painful light into his eyes. “You seem to be in good shape,” the nurse nodded, giving him a painkiller. “You’re lucky you rolled with that punch, and that Princess Luna was there to give you a quick healing spell, but that fella still rang your bell pretty hard, didn’t he?”

Phillip nodded, running a tongue over his gums and noting that his teeth were all back in place.

“We’re going to have to keep you in bed for the rest of the day for observation, but barring anything serious, you should be okay to go home tonight,” the nurse said. “Just don’t do anything strenuous for a week or so.”

“Got it,” Phillip rasped, taking another glass of water.

The nurse exited, leaving Phillip and Daring alone once more. Daring rubbed Phillip’s hoof; her touch was warm and soft and he smiled as he squeezed her hoof back.

“Has anyone called mom and dad?” he asked.

“Yeah, I called ‘em last night,” Daring nodded. “They were just happy to hear from me. They send their love.” She rubbed his hoof. “How you feeling?” she asked.

“Been worse,” Phillip replied.

“I don’t mean physically,” Daring answered. “I mean with…” Her voice trailed away, clearly unable to articulate what she was thinking.

Phillip thought for a beat. For a moment, he was back in the mud pit, cold mud dripping from his face, heart pounding fast and the taste of blood in his mouth. Rare Reaction was lumbering towards him, face twisted in rage, one hoof drawn back to strike.

He took a breath and studied himself, like he was pulling his emotions and thoughts out of his body and pinning them on a slide to study. He noted that he’d been breathing fast, that his hooves had been shaking slightly when he gripped his baton, that there had been ice prickling in his stomach when his foe charged.

But he’d stood and won. He hadn’t run, he hadn’t cowered, he hadn’t frozen. The echoes of fear retreated from his stomach, and a thrill of victory flowed through his body at an unhurried pace, down to the tip of his tail and up to the crown of his head, temporarily banishing the pain.

“Good,” he nodded with a contented smile. “Real aces. Honestly, better than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Me too,” Daring said. “I was kinda worried that we’d freeze up or something, but...didn’t happen. Didn’t even think of that the entire time.” She grinned. “I think that we needed this, to be honest. To get back to work instead of sitting at home, just thinking about—”

She stopped abruptly, turning her head away to hide the small flinch. Phillip felt the pang in his chest as the memories of black eyes and red skies and death screams flashed unbidden into his mind. He trembled, gripping Daring’s hoof tighter like a lifeline as she replied in kind; his heart started to speed up as if trying to race away, his breath came faster.

Stop.

He held his breath for a moment, then let it out slowly, controlling it, controlling the fear. Exhale for five counts, hold. Inhale for five counts. Hold. Repeat. He heard Daring’s breathing echoing his own as she battled her own terror.

The sounds, smells, touches, and sights rose up like a tidal wave to envelop him. He kept his breathing controlled as the memories washed over him. He didn’t fight it: he allowed them to come, to pass over him, and then he let them go.

The wave slowly faded away, and he sighed as its pressure left him. The last image that left him was Trace’s face, sad and reproving, his dead gaze stabbing Phillip in the chest. Wiping two tears from his face, he blinked up at Daring. She swallowed, blinking rapidly, and leaned down to rest against his chest.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” he whispered, stroking her mane.

She took a ragged breath, one final shiver running through her body before she sat up. “Hey,” she whispered, leaning in close. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Phillip answered, raising her chin and kissing her on the lips.

A rap at the door sent Daring quickly retreating from him. “Am I interrupting?” Hidden Ace asked from the door.

“No,” Daring replied as the unicorn entered.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” Ace grinned. “So, two PIs from Ponyville come up here and, in one day, manage to solve two cases that the entire Canterlot PD were stumped over for months. I hope you heal up fast: if you hang around here much longer, you’re liable to make us all look bad.”

“If you and Stacked Deck are the best you have to offer, that won’t be too hard,” Daring smirked. “How’s he, by the way?”

“On vacation, but he said hi,” Ace replied, extending his hoof. Daring bumped her hoof against his. “Thanks for the help, you two. And thanks for getting me out of that statue.”

“Just doing our job,” Daring answered.

There came another rap at the door. “Hey, you guys decent?” Smolder asked, entering and shooting a brief glare at Ace. Krein followed, having to bend almost all the way over to enter the door.

Ace frowned at the Ambassador, who frowned back at him, letting out a brief huff of smoke through his nostrils. After a moment, Ace sighed.

“I owe you an apology,” Ace said, stepping forward and extending his hoof.

Krein blinked at him, then nodded and took his claw gently, shaking the proffered limb like a twig. “And I owe you our gratitude for finding Smolder and getting her home safely,” Krein nodded.

“Thanks,” Smolder nodded. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Ace nodded and swallowed dryly, shaking her claw as well. “And I’m sorry about yours,” he said. He gave an embarrassed cough. “Um...I gotta head back to the precinct and finish up some paperwork. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

With a final nod, he exited.

“How are you doing?” Krein asked Phillip.

“Fine,” Phillip replied, massaging his throat. He looked over at Smolder. The dragoness was hovering behind Krein, her arms folded and her gaze cast down. Her puffy eyes were rimmed with red. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Fine,” Smolder grunted, turning away.

Daring Do stood up. “Smolder, no offense, but we both know you’re not,” she said. “You lost one of your friends and nearly died. No one would be fine after that.”

Smolder turned her head even further away. “Maybe dragons are just tougher than ponies.”

Daring sighed. “I know you think you can tough it out. That you can just bury it and pretend it’s fine and it’ll go away.”

Smolder didn’t answer, but she shifted in place.

“It’s not going to get better if you hide it,” Daring said. “Look, just...get some help. Maybe you can come down to Ponyville and talk to Twi and Spike. You don’t need to keep hurting yourself because you’re trying to be tough.”

Smolder didn’t answer, but her lips quivered and she sniffled. “Yeah,” she said after a minute, turning back towards Daring and wiping her watering eyes with a forearm. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Daring briefly patted her on the shoulder as Krein draped a wing over her. Smolder didn’t quite smile, but her lips did twitch upwards.

“I also wanted to give you something,” Krein said. “First of all, your payment.” He pulled a large bag that jingled with coins out from his pack.

Daring blinked. “Ambassador, that...that’s way too much,” she protested halfheartedly.

“I’d argue that it’s not enough for what you did, especially since you didn’t have to come in the first place,” Krein replied. “There is also this.”

From the pack came two iron necklaces inlaid with Dragontongue symbols around the edges. “These necklaces, marked with our alphabet, mark you as Zinfahdon, as friends of the dragons,” he explained, ceremoniously placing one over Daring’s head. The surprisingly light accessory was still warm from the furnace; she ran a hoof over the runes, already trying to commit them to memory.

“When you wear these, you will mark yourself as friends of all dragons, and guarantee safe passage and assistance from dragons,” Krein continued as Phillip obligingly bent his head forward to allow Krein to adorn him with his necklace. “As Speaker of the Dragons and the Voice of Lord Torch, this is my gift from all of us to you as our thanks.”

“Thank you, Speaker,” Daring replied with a grateful bow. “It was our pleasure to help.”

Krein and Smolder both gave the detectives a final bow and bade them farewell. Phillip laid back down in the bed and closed his eyes to rest. Giving him a final farewell kiss on the cheek, Daring exited quietly.

The evening came on slow over Equestria, the sun seeming to reluctantly dip beneath the horizon to give way to the moon.

“I will ask the prosecutor to go easy on Heim,” Luna told Daring as they stood beneath the glass dome of Canterlot train station. “His son will be coming up to testify on his behalf.”

“And Reaction?” Daring asked, watching as the loudly chugging train south trundled up the rails towards the platform.

Luna paused as the train let out a piercing whistle to announce its arrival. “He was already wanted on a laundry list of war crimes. As I speak, he is being prepared for transport to Clovenworth Island,” she replied.

“Good,” Phillip answered in a much less raspy voice.

"I wish to apologize for not getting you out sooner," Luna said, lowering her head a bit. "Reaction's shield was heavily layered; if I tried to simply smash through it, the energy required would have been too powerful and imprecise; the risk of hurting you was too great."

"It's fine, Princess," Phillip shrugged it off as the train pulled onto the platform, brakes squealing.

Luna turned to the detectives and bowed her head low. “This city owes you a debt,” she stated. “Be well, detectives.”

“Thanks, Your Highness,” Daring replied as Phillip shook hooves with Iridescence and the other Guards on duty.

The doors of the carriages hissed open and passengers began to disembark. Luna looked over at Smolder, who was leaning against a steel column a few feet away.

“I will be seeing all of you tonight,” Luna stated to Daring.

Daring stared at Luna for a moment, then nodded, swallowing quietly. “Right. See you tonight,” she said as she, Phillip, and Smolder entered the carriage.

Smolder slid into a seat and curled up against the window, staring out at the purple sky. Phillip and Daring sat down opposite her, leaning against each other. The train trundled away from the platform, heading south with a heavy chuffing.

Their passage south passed in silence, but Smolder gradually pulled away from the window as they came closer to Ponyville, huddling closer to the ponies and leaning forward over the table with her head down.

Daring patted Smolder’s scaly arm. Smolder looked up, blinking her wide purple eyes, and managed a feeble smile.

Night had long fallen by the time they arrived in Ponyville. When the trio disembarked onto the platform to find a familiar group waiting for them.

Smolder slowly walked over to Twilight, Spike, and Flash, her head lowered and one claw rubbing at her forearm. Spike immediately walked up to her and hugged her around the waist. She froze for a moment, then hugged him back, tears falling from her eyes as Twilight joined the embrace. Flash gave Phillip a pat on the shoulder and a smile before putting his forearms around the small group.

Phillip and Daring moved on to where Bobby and Rain were waiting. Bobby strode forward and immediately seized them both in a crushing hug that pushed the air from their lungs.

“We knew you’d come back safely,” he grinned, kissing them both on the forehead. “We saw the paper!”

An evening edition of Foal Free Press was prominently displayed in a nearby stand. The bold headline read, “Local Detectives Crack Dragon Disappearances!” and featured a photograph of Princess Luna standing outside Canterlot hospital, giving an impromptu press conference before a crowd of reporters. An archival picture of Phillip and Daring was placed next to that image.

“How’d it go?” Rain asked, wheeling herself over to them.

“Went aces, mom,” Phillip said, kissing his mother on the forehead. “But we’re just glad to be home.”

“Your voice sounds a bit rough, ampa,” Rain said as they started to head towards a waiting taxi, the wheelchair ramp already waiting for her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Just a bit of a tingle,” Phillip reassured her as they all climbed inside, waving goodbye to Twilight, Flash, Spike, and Smolder, who were set to head home on Flash’s motorcycle.

Once they were all in the back, the taxi started towards Honeybee Bakery Drive, passing beneath glaring streetlights and twinkling stars. Daring and Phillip both stared out the window at the night sky above them for many streets.

When the taxi paused at a red light, Phillip looked over at Daring. She frowned a bit, then let out a slow breath and nodded.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you before I left,” Phillip said, not able to meet his parents’ eyes. “I was…” he sighed and mopped his face, noting the moisture in his eyes. “It’s been hard,” he admitted. “And I’m tired of feeling weak. Of being scared all the damn time.”

“It’s okay,” Bobby replied, gripping his son’s shoulder. “This has been hard on all of us: we’re all struggling to make peace with what happened.” He looked down at his wife’s paralyzed legs trapped in the wheelchair and made a small grimace of a smile. “I’m just glad that we’re all alive. If there’s one thing I learned in the ring, anypony can learn to swing hard. What matters is learning to roll with the blows, to get back up when you’re knocked down.”

“You should be a life coach or something,” Daring said with a dry chuckle. Her smile quickly faded and she found herself rubbing her right hoof, where the brand prickled and stung.

Rain reached out and took her hoof in both of hers; her warm touch banished the pain in an instant. “If you’re ready to talk, we’re here,” she whispered with a smile.

Daring smiled back and leaned forward, rubbing her forehead against Rain’s mane. “Thanks, Rain,” she said as Bobby and Phillip leaned against them as well.

When they got home, Bobby and Phillip prepared eggplant parmesan on the grill while Daring created pavlova under Rain’s careful guidance. They ate beneath the stars, laughing quietly at past memories, blushing over embarrassing anecdotes, performing impromptu concerts on sax, trumpet, clarinet, and didgeridoo.

As the night wound down, Bobby and Rain started to play a familiar tune on trumpet and clarinet, the soft melody carrying up to the stars. Phillip stood and gently pulled Daring to him and they started to revolve on the porch, just holding each other and resting their heads on each other's shoulders, Phillip whispering the lyrics into her ear:

“You know I can’t smile without you, I can’t smile without you…”

When the song finished, Phillip lifted Daring onto his back and carried her inside; she murmured sleepily, nuzzling his ear. Giving his parents a tired smile that they returned, Phillip carried her upstairs into their bedroom. Drawing the sheets back, he gently deposited her onto the mattress and drew the sheets up over them both. He pulled her already sleeping form into his arms, sniffing at her mane. The scent of jasmine and rain carried him into sleep.

The sky was cold red over his head, the clay cold and unyielding beneath his hooves. All around him were doors of every shape and size, jutting out of the ground like some bizarre plants.

An icy laugh stabbed into his ears and Phillip spun around, panting; he shivered in the cold and was suddenly aware that he was nude, unprotected. The voice bubbled out of an inequine throat, like something that had no vocal cords trying to mimic laughter.

Acidic pain bit into his foreleg and he drew away, yelping in terror. The tentacles that dangled from its mouth waving in ecstasy, the Ngluwi emerged from behind a blue door with golden letters nailed to it: 221.

“There you are,” Zugzwang smiled, something horrid shining in the tarry voids that served as its many eyes, connected by bulbous, pulsing veins.

Phillip turned and sprinted away, darting in between doors, skidding and slipping in the clay. But no matter where he ran, the thing was always behind him, biting at him with its stinging tongues, laughing when he screamed or cried out.

Phillip stumbled and slammed into a large set of double doors that were set in a brick archway. He tried to grab the handle, but it rattled mockingly in his hooves, refusing to open.

He turned around and looked up. The hideous thing loomed over him, desire etched in every inch of its predatory posture.

“You cannot run from me, Liebling,” Zugzwang crooned in that revolting voice that sent shudders up his spine. “I will always be here. I will always be with you.”

Phillip stared up into the cold voids, gasping for air...then paused. He closed his eyes and took in a slow breath, forcing himself to still even as the hot, disgusting breath washed over his face.

“Help,” he breathed out.

There was a clap of thunder, a flash of blinding light. The thing reeled away with a startled shriek.

“BEGONE, BEAST!” a voice roared with the fury of a hundred storms, and Phillip opened his eyes to see Luna descending from the sky like some vengeful goddess, eyes glowing bright white. Her horn shone like a silver sword. The Ngluwi retreated, but a beam of moonlight cleaved it into pieces; with a horrid scream, it dissolved into black ooze that quickly evaporated.

Luna landed before Phillip and extended a hoof with a maternal smile, both of her eyes twinkling. “You’re safe now,” she promised, helping Phillip to his hooves as the door forest dissolved around him, giving way instead to a peaceful forest; the doors were replaced by tall trees, grass sprang up from the cold clay, and the red sky became twilight purple, bespeckled with stars.

“You are all safe now,” Luna declared, looking around.

Phillip watched as more figures emerged from behind the trees: first Daring, who immediately walked to his side, her face lowered meekly. Then Twilight, Flash, and Spike, who joined them with soft smiles. Rain and Bobby followed, Rain smiling as she walked on her own hooves. Rainbow Dash flapped in, her left wing made of flesh and bone here in her dreams, and landed between Daring and Twilight.

Then a final figure emerged slowly from the trees, pausing at the edge of the group. The red pegasus hovered near the treeline, blinking at them in uncertainty.

“Come on, Red,” Flash called, beckoning the detective on.

Red Herring stared for a beat more, then slowly, like a foal walking out onto the diving board for the first time, walked over to join them. He sat down near Flash, offering him a tight smile and a small nod.

“I’m glad to see you all here, my friends,” Luna said, smiling around at them all. “I know that this is hard for you all, to open up and speak of things you’d rather forget, but looking around here, I want you all to understand and take heart: you are not alone. You are never alone.”

She sat down in the grass in the center of the small circle, removing the crown and gorget that marked her as their superior.

“I, uh,” Red admitted, shuffling his hooves. “I’m not real good at these therapy things. I’m not really sure what to do here.”

“That’s all right,” Luna reassured him. “For now, you just need to say what’s on your mind.”

Red blinked at his hooves for a moment, then sighed. “I...I miss my friend,” he said quietly.

Flash slowly raised a hoof, then placed it over Red’s withers. Red glanced at him, but did not resist.

“That’s what we’re all here for,” Flash smiled at him.

Author's Note

And so ends this case, bringing our two detectives back into the fray of crime-solving!

I hope you enjoyed this case and are looking forward to more! It's exciting for me to keep writing like this for you all. I look forward to reading your comments and seeing your upvotes if you liked it!

Case Fifteen, Prologue: The End of Quick Step

Quick Step woke up late that morning and frowned to find that the mattress was unoccupied save for her.

He must’ve left before she woke up. Darn it all, he’d promised that they’d talk about this in the morning. What was with him these days? Always coming back late, putting down the blinds as soon as he got home…he’d never been like this before.

She could blame it on his job, but he’d been working there for years now. Okay, so Eagle Trust always had a shady reputation, but the pay was good and they’d both learned long ago that ponies who keep their heads down and stay quiet are the ones that are left alone.

“What did you do?” Quick wondered to herself, shaking her long blonde mane out of her face as she climbed out of bed. She trotted into the bathroom and quickly showered. She emerged a few minutes later, toweling herself off and lifting a curry brush in her magic to smooth out her cyan coat.

As she trotted into the combination kitchen-dining room, she smiled as she saw the box sitting on the table. Inside the open box, which had arrived yesterday afternoon, was a set of clothing: a baby pink saddle embossed with the image of an airship set before a golden-orange sun, a studded pale yellow collar with a tag labeled with her cutie mark--a lightning bolt and two hoofprints--and four thigh-high golden stockings. The entire ensemble was artistically accented by blue and pale yellow gems, and a trio of blue diamonds was sewn into the back of the collar and the strap of the saddle.

“Rarity, you never cease to amaze,” Quick sighed, running a hoof over the leather material. She’d already tried it on and had not been surprised to find that the entire ensemble fit perfectly, accenting all of her curves (as her coltfriend’s red-faced stare had proven). She purred to herself, remembering how much fun they’d had last night after she put on a private show just for him.

Next to the box was the note that had come with it.

Congrats on the promotion to lead dancer! This was a little gift Rarity and I made for you. Can’t wait to see you in it! XX, Petina.

Quick let out a little delighted noise and trotted in place. Headliner at the Heavenly Bawdy! After years of hard work and practice, of ups and downs! Faust, it felt good!

When she came down from her high, she noticed that something was missing from the sitting room: the brown nylon suitcase with the pen and the gold bar embossed onto the side. Did that mean that he’d gone into work early? Yet another odd change.

As Quick Step ate her breakfast of rice cakes and two bananas, she pondered what he might be doing now.

Maybe he’s meeting with that reporter? she wondered with a frown. Was that...mare even a reporter? She certainly talked a mile a minute. And what kinda creature was she? She’d never seen a unicorn with scales like that.

She shook her head and chugged down her orange juice. Enough. She had to focus on her job now. Headliners couldn’t afford to be distracted. Besides, he’d be back home tonight. And then she’d get some answers.

Closing the box with her new costume in it and balancing it on her back, Quick Step headed for the door, gathering up her purse and...damn it, where'd her backstage key go?

Oh, well. Honey was working the same shift as her this week, she could let her in. Quick opened up the front door of the apartment and paused.

Sitting on the hallway floor outside her door was a small box, covered in pink wrapping paper and adorned with a bow. Quick looked back and forth, but nopony else was to be seen.

“Okay, then,” she said to herself, lifting up the box with her magic and studying it. Curiosity compelled her to open up the box and see what was inside; probably something from some secret admirer, maybe a fan from the Bawdy--

“Ow!”

Quick dropped the box in shock, staring at the spring-loaded needle that had stung her as soon as she’d opened it. The metal appendage glistened strangely in the hallway lights. Quick glanced at the small wound on her hoof, a little trickle of blood running from it.

“Great,” she growled to herself, turning to head back inside for a bandage and some antiseptic. Now what kind of asshole--?

The world tilted on its side and Quick Step tumbled to the carpeted floor, her vision swimming before her eyes in a blur of colors. She coughed heavily, tasting bile.

What was happening? She’d never been sick like this before. She tried to stand up again, but her legs felt like they were made of wet noodles, trembling and refusing to take her weight.

Poison. The realization flashed through her mind with a thrill of horror.

“He...he...help…” she tried to scream, but all she was able to make was a wheezing: it felt like her chest was filling up with cotton, pushing the air from her lungs. She tried to crawl towards the phone, trying to focus on the small table next to the doorway even as blackness started to creep up on the swirling colors.

She tried to climb up, but her legs didn’t work; her horn only briefly flickered in response to her will. She resorted to shaking the table, causing the phone to fall off onto the ground next to her; she felt the clatter through the floorboards, but couldn’t hear it over a rapid thumping in her ears. Her heartbeat, she realized with a sickening chill.

She grabbed the hoofpiece and reached out for the dial. Darkness was creeping over her vision: she had to struggle to focus on the white circle.

Nine…she tried to cough to clear the cotton filling her throat, but she couldn’t summon the effort.

One...the pounding in her head hurt like nothing she’d ever experienced.

One--

The hoofpiece slipped from her grasp. Her chest was being crushed in a car compactor; she tried to suck in air, but her lungs weren’t working. She managed to let out a feeble sob and felt tears burning in her eyes.

Far away, she heard the line click and a voice respond, the sound too indistinct for her to understand.

The blackness overtook her completely. The last thing that crossed Quick Step’s mind was that she didn’t want to die.

Author's Note

And so starts another case. I'm proud of this one: I wrote this volume intending to bring the Noire series back to its roots, and that's what I think this one does quite well. I've got a couple of new guests coming in on this one, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised to meet one of them!

Like what you read? Leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Fifteen, Chapter One: With Much Ado

The crisp, sun-kissed air smelled of fruit and honey. Beneath the baby blue sky, warmed by the sun that was approaching its apex, a Macintosh apple tree and a Bartlett pear tree dripping with fruit stood in the middle of a grove of apple and pear trees, both trees wrapped around one another like a close embrace.

In the shade of the intertwined trees, two mares in short white dresses danced upon a makeshift dance floor, smiling at each other as they stomped and kicked in time to Country Roads, the melody carried on saxophone, trumpet, and clarinet. As she whirled around her wife, Rara gave a brief wink towards the raised stage where the band stood. Phillip nodded back as he went into the next measure, tapping his hoof in time to the beat. Next to him, Bobby swung his trumpet into an ad-libbed bridge, with Rain following close behind on clarinet.

More ponies sat around the grove on tables covered in white tablecloths, the dishes taken from the long buffet table briefly forgotten as they watched the dancing couple. Phillip spotted Daring sitting at a table on the outskirts of the celebration and Joyful Sound sitting near the dance floor, smiling and thumping her cane against the grass in time to the beat that she could feel through her hooves. Steamed Carrot was singing along to the music as she manned a large grill, while Pinkie Pie stood near the buffet table, cradling a smiling and gurgling Endeavor. Apple Bloom was sitting with her two friends, all three fillies adorned in flower filly dresses, and nearby sat Spike, Rarity, and Fluttershy. Granny Smith was beaming at her granddaughters, wiping tears from her eyes as she sat next to a golden earth pony stallion with graying brown hair, and Big Mac sat next to a small granite mare with a long gray mane, both of them sneaking glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

As the song reached the final chorus, Applejack gripped Rara’s arm and swung her into a dip, prompting Rara to burst out laughing. The newlyweds kissed as the song ended and the crowd burst into applause. Smiling, Applejack and Rara both bowed and joined the attendees.

Rara trotted over to the stage and approached Phillip with a wide smile and wide forelegs. “Phil, I can’t thank you enough for being here,” she said, hugging him.

“No worries,” Phillip said, returning Rara’s hug with a small smile. “But you’ve already thanked me a bunch of times. Starting to get kinda embarrassed.”

“I know, but it really does mean a lot,” Rara beamed at him. “We’ve known each other for years now. You’re family, too.”

Phillip turned away, but could not conceal his smile, nor the heat rushing up to his face. He turned his attention to Steamed Carrot, who was balancing two heaping, steaming plates on her wings as she carried them over to where Daring was sitting. She placed the plates next to the surprised Daring. The two mares spoke briefly, then Steamed gave Daring a tight hug, which she returned after a moment of surprise.

“I see Steamed’s doing well,” he said.

“Pinkie says her nightmares have gone away,” Rara smiled at her head chef and part-time singer. “And she’s getting more and more confident on stage, too.”

“That’s great,” Phillip nodded, eyeing the heaping plate that Steamed Carrot had set aside for him. “And how’s Endeavor?”

“He called Applejack mama last week,” Rara said with a warm smile, looking over at her son, who was currently being held by Applejack. The little golden colt was gurgling happily as Aunt Pinkie made faces at him.

“I’m glad the anklebiter’s got a good family,” Phillip smiled briefly at Rara.

“Thank you,” Rara said, giving him a peck on the cheek, which promptly began to heat up again. “Now, go on. I see you watching that plate,” she chuckled. “I’m sure your parents can keep the guests entertained for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Bobby said with a smirk. “It’ll be good practice for when you and Daring get married!”

He, Rain, and Rara laughed as Phillip hopped off the stage, his face now furiously scarlet. He trotted over to Daring’s table, where she was digging into a large gyro filled with grilled apples, lettuce, and tomatoes, all dripping with juices.

“I’m just glad that AJ didn’t require formal dress,” she commented, tilting her pith helmet back. “Promise me that if we get married, I don’t have to wear a dress.”

“Promise,” Phillip said, reaching for a fork and a slab of hay steak. A moment later, he and Daring both realized what she had just said and they stared at one another, faces reddening and eyes wide.

“If! I said if! It was hypothetical!” Daring sputtered.

“Right, right,” Phillip nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart was dancing in his chest at the mental image of himself and Daring before an altar. He heard a giggle behind him and gave his mother a brief glare over his shoulder. She smiled and waved at him, eyes twinkling with humor.

Phillip carved out a piece of the hay steak and started to chew it, barely suppressing a groan of delight as the wondrous flavor spilled over his tongue. He glanced over at Daring and noticed that she was staring at Endeavor, who was fussing as Applejack tried to feed him some mashed potatoes.

“He’s going to have a good home here,” he said quietly, reaching out and taking Daring’s hoof.

Daring swallowed, then nodded. “I know,” she said, turning back to her meal and poking at some salad with her free hoof.

“How’s Sparks?” Phillip asked.

“Doing okay,” Daring replied, reluctantly releasing his hoof. She gave a weak smile. “She said that after everything she’s done, the next three to ten years will be like a vacation.”

“At least she’s keeping her head up,” Phillip said. Daring just grunted and kept eating, her right hoof twitching a bit. Phillip turned back to his meal and carved himself another piece of steak.

“Uh-oh,” Daring muttered, looking up. “We got incoming.”

Phillip turned around and blinked in surprise. The broadly smiling creature that was trotting directly towards them definitely wasn’t here for the wedding. She had a lion-esque mane and tail, the color of which matched the autumnal leaves around them, and her coat was the color of cream save for her back, which had a patch of apple green dragon-like scales. The dark red horn sticking out from her mane jutted out into two branches like a tree limb.

“A kirin?” Daring murmured to herself. “Don’t see them outside their home country much. Wonder where she came from.”

“Detectives Finder and Do!” the kirin cried, bouncing over to them with a wide smile. “I’ve been looking all over this city for you! I started at your place, 221 Honeybee Bakery--sounds like I’ve heard that somewhere else before--but you weren’t there, so I tried at the police station, the Apple Pie, and I was wandering around the city asking some of your friends because I thought they might know where you are, so I stumbled up here to ask Applejack, because I know she and Rara are friends of yours, but then I found this amazing party--oh, it’s a wedding, how sweet! Oh, right, I was looking for you and mmmph mmblm mgmm…”

The kirin’s speech was cut off by Phillip stuffing an apple into her mouth. “One, who are you? Two, why are you looking for us?” he asked.

The kirin chewed her apple and swallowed before answering. “I’m Autumn Blaze, I’m an independent journalist. I came down to Ponyville to write some articles for the Foal Free Press; I was doing a piece on Eagle Trust banking, and I think I found something that I need your help on.”

Daring and Phil glanced at each other, then scanned the crowd around them. A few ponies were giving them curious glances, and a couple ponies were scowling suspiciously at Autumn.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more private,” Daring said, gesturing with her head.

The trio walked over to a more secluded area of the grove, between a couple of pear trees that were still dripping with golden fruit. Autumn studied the late-blooming fruits with a lick of her lips before refocusing.

“So, what do you know about Eagle Trust?” she asked.

“I know that it was one of Monopoly’s companies,” Phillip scowled. “He started it up with his investment companies. We investigated it several times in connection with racketeering and money laundering, but could never prove anything. Bit surprised it’s still running after Monopoly went away.”

“Their current president, Bottom Line, is a devious character,” Autumn Blaze reported. “He’s been working with Monopoly since ‘38 and was appointed president by the board when Eagle Trust was founded on the Eighth of the Moon of Frost, 1941. Since the founding--”

“The point. Get to it,” Daring interrupted.

“Sorry; I’m a bit of a talker,” Autumn said sheepishly. “Anyway, the reason why I was investigating Eagle Trust: I’m trying to shut them down.”

“How?” Phillip asked.

“You know how they get most of their money?” Autumn said with a scowl. “Repossessing property and cheating creatures out of their money. They make scummy deals and investments, and when their clients can’t live up to them, they steal their homes, their money. Bottom Line and his company destroy families and lives because they’re thieving, greedy, cheating--”

Autumn’s teeth gnashed, her brow furrowed as she glared. Her eyes began to glow pure white, her pupils vanishing into the milky glow, and then, bizarrely, purple and red flames flickered at the edge of her eyes.

“Uh...Autumn?” Phillip asked, resisting the urge to step back.

Autumn’s eyes widened, then she turned away from them and started taking several slow, deep breaths. Slowly, the flames faded away and her eyes returned to normal.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, looking down at her shuffling hooves. “It’s a...it’s a thing with my species. When we get angry, we uh…” She chuckled. “We start to literally heat up with magic fire. You can imagine how hard it can be in our homelands sometimes, what with the Firewatch patrolling around all the time, making sure that no one's about to try to burn down their neighbor's fruit stand. And raising kirin babies, woof! Good thing kirin milk is naturally calming, and we’ve gotten really good at building fireproof houses over the years!”

She kept the fixed smile on her face and forced a laugh through it, her eyes darting nervously from Phil to Daring, a silent plea reflected in her golden irides.

Daring raised a hoof placidly. “It’s fine. We’ve dealt with dragons, we can deal with kirin.”

Autumn brightened up immediately, her smile becoming genuine. “Dragons? You worked with dragons? What are they like?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. Gotta focus. Did you hear that there was a murder this morning?”

“Not yet,” Phillip said.

“A mare named Quick Step; she’s a dancer at the Heavenly Bawdy,” Autumn stated. “She was found dead at her apartment this morning from poisoning. Her coltfriend was Gold Signature, he worked for Eagle Trust for a long time. When I came to Ponyville two weeks ago, I started asking some questions about Eagle Trust, how they operated, their history. A few days ago, Gold Signature approached me, said that he had enough info to stop Eagle Trust, all of them: evidence of how they broke the law and bribed officials and lawyers to get what they needed. I was supposed to meet with him around noon today, but he didn’t show. And then I learn that his marefriend was murdered? Coincidence? I think not!”

Phillip and Daring looked at each other with frowns. “Do you have any way to contact Gold again?” Phillip asked.

“I already tried everything: tried his home, tried the office--they booted me out--tried his stepbrother’s place--he hung up on me,” Autumn shook her head. “He’s gone off the grid.”

“What does he look like?” Phillip asked.

“Tall paper-white unicorn with light brown hair like freshly turned soil,” Autumn reported. “His cutie mark is a pen and a gold bar. And he’s got a suitcase with his cutie mark embroidered on it. Carries it around everywhere: told me it was a gift from Quick Step. He’s probably got whatever he wanted to show me in it.”

“We’re going to need everything you’ve got on Eagle Trust. Everything,” Phillip said.

“You got it!” Autumn saluted. “It’s all over at my place at the Red Barn on Sweetgrass. We can go now!”

“I’ll go with,” Daring said. “Someone needs to watch your back.”

“Where does Quick Step live?” Phillip asked.

“Twenty-eight Morgana Avenue, number 15,” Autumn said. “I think the police are just wrapping it up over there.”

“I’ll go take a butcher’s,” Phillip said. “Meet you at the Red Barn.”

“Got it.” Daring smiled and gave Phil a quick boop on the nose, causing his face to scrunch up briefly. “Be safe, Phil.”

With a wave of her wing, Daring scooped up Autumn beneath her forelegs and flew off. Autumn gave an excited whoop as she disappeared over the treetops.

“Who was that, ampa?” Rain asked, pushing herself towards him on her wheelchair with Bobby following close behind.

“A client,” Phillip replied. “Sorry, mom, dad. I gotta go.”

“No worries, son,” Bobby said, giving him a brief hug that Phillip returned. “We’ll take care of the music here. You go catch the bad guys.”

“Too right. We’ll be home soon.” With a nod, Phillip sprinted out of the grove, racing over rolling green hills and through the gate to the dirt road that led up to Sweet Apple Acres. Breathing deep the warm, crisp air of the farmlands, he raced after the dinging of a streetcar trundling down Grapevine.

Twenty-eight Morgana Avenue turned out to be a modest brick and concrete edifice that sat near the corner of the block, four stories of darkened windows glaring down at Phillip as he trotted up.

A single cruiser was parked in the lot before the oaken doors, along with a familiar rust-colored Diplomat 600, a low white van with “Medical Examiner” painted on the side, and a blue pickup truck with “Police CSU” displayed on the sides.

As Phillip approached the door, he noted the panel of buzzers and a speaker next to the entrance. He reached for the buzzer for number 15, but the door opened from within as he did. A stretcher bearing a zipped-up black body bag exited through the door, followed by Doctor Mortis, who was pushing it along with her magic.

“Hi, Phil!” Mortis chirped as she passed him. “You’re a bit late, but Red and his new partner are still up there, wrapping things up.” She shook her head. “It’s a terrible shame. She was a young, lovely girl with so much ahead of her.”

“May I?” Phillip asked.

Mortis nodded and stepped back a bit. Phillip carefully unzipped the bag to behold the pale face of Quick Step. Her formerly cyan face was pale with death, and he noted the beginning of lividity on the left side of her face. Her blonde mane was in disarray, shiny with sweat. Her eyes were shut and a few dried trails of blood ran from her mouth.

Looking further down her body, Phillip spotted a small wound on her right hoof, blood staining the appendage. “No other wounds,” he noted.

“There was some kinda gag gift on the floor outside her place: a box with a needle on a spring in it,” Mortis reported. “Looks like she opened the box up and the spring hit her on the hoof. Whatever it was, it killed her fast. I’ll know more once I complete the autopsy.”

“Thanks, doc,” Phillip nodded, moving past her into the carpeted hallway. He proceeded upstairs to the second floor, nodded to the rookie officer pacing his patrol route along the trampled red carpet, and trotted down to the open doorway marked with crime scene tape.

As he approached, a familiar figure stooped beneath the tape, but what surprised Phillip was that he was not clad in a police uniform, but in a pale blue suit and tie.

“Flash?” Phillip felt himself smile. “Look at you, lad. A detective.”

“Yeah,” Flash said with a broad grin. “Captain Oak promoted me himself.”

“And you deserved it,” Twilight said, climbing out from under the tape and giving Flash a kiss on the cheek, causing a wide smile to spread across his now-glowing face. Phillip noted that Twilight was clad in a light blue vest with lime highlights and a replica of her cutie mark on the back, along with a trio of small blue diamonds on the collar. Multiple pockets lined the vest, which was slightly bulkier than a mere cloth vestment would be. He glanced down at his own vest, noting the trio of small blue diamonds sewn into the collar, and smiled briefly.

“Don’t get your ego up, son,” Red Herring said, emerging from under the tape as well, still adorned in his familiar trench coat.

“Sorry, sarge,” Flash coughed.

“And don’t call me sarge,” Red grumbled, turning to Phil. “Should’ve known you’d be here sooner or later. What’s the stake in this one?”

Phillip explained what Autumn Blaze had told him and Daring.

“A kirin?” Twilight asked, her eyes brightening. “Amazing! It’s rare to see them outside of their homelands, and most of them have very strict beliefs about self-control. I--” She cleared her throat when she noticed Flash and Red both giving her quirked eyebrows. “Sorry.”

“We did find evidence of another stallion living there, and a few of the neighbors did mention that the vic had a coltfriend,” Red commented. “None of them seem to know much about him, though.”

“Walk me through what happened here,” Phillip said, walking up to the threshold. He noted the telephone laying on the floor beneath the hallway table, the hoofset next to the chalk outline that marked where Quick Step had lain. A purple set of glowing hoofprints, small and bare, appeared around the scene, leading down the hallway to the door, pausing, then stumbling back inside to where Quick had fallen.

“Emergency dispatch received a call from her at 0946 this morning,” Twilight reported, her horn lighting up. An illusory image of Quick Step laying within the chalk outline appeared on the floor. “Officer Grove arrived to find the victim already deceased and called in the crime scene. We arrived here at 1024, about an hour ago.”

A ghostly image of a box and a layer of discarded wrapping paper appeared on the floor just inside the threshold. A spring with a needle on the end was uncoiled from within the box, laying around it like a coiled serpent.

“Based on the scene, we believe that Quick Step found the box laying on her doorstep when she opened it to leave,” Flash said. “The spring stung her and whatever toxin was on it overcame her when she tried to go back inside and call for help.”

“And that’s when the intruder came in,” Red added.

“What intruder?” Phillip asked, his ears perking up.

Twilight lit up her horn and a new set of hoofprints appeared on the ground, glowing a darker shade of purple. They led from the end of the hallway and into the room, stepping over the body before proceeding into the apartment proper.

Phillip scowled as he ducked beneath the tape and entered the apartment, slowly following the intruder’s trail with Twilight and Flash on his tail. The intruder went straight into the bedroom and the hoofprints circled around the room. The glowing prints passed beneath clothes and bedsheets that had been flung onto the floor.

“He was looking for something,” he murmured. “Flash?”

“Skytrotter brand horseshoes, size thirteen. Worn by a three-foot eleven pony with black hair, we’ve already collected hair samples for analysis,” Flash reported.

“Aces,” Phillip nodded, noting a proud smile briefly glowing on Flash’s face. They followed the trail out of the bedroom and into the hallway, where they met with a frowning Red Herring. Twilight’s magic revealed that the intruder had run back down the stairs and back outside into the parking lot. The trail led to a pair of glowing tire tracks that ran back onto Morgana Avenue, disappearing amidst the overlapping trails of other vehicles.

“And that’s how he got away,” Red concluded. “Bet Trace could--”

Silence fell like a gavel striking. Red visibly flinched and his eyes sank to the ground, studying the asphalt. Flash and Twilight both bowed their heads.

Phillip turned away, closing his eyes, but the visions came just the same. Trace, grabbing his hoof, bracing against the threshold. Black serpents lashed out overhead, stabbing into the unicorn’s eyes with a horrible squelching sound. The scream echoed in Phillip’s eyes, the sound rumbling in his heaving chest, where his heart throbbed violently.

It’s not happening. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re here. Here and now.

He took control of his breathing, slow inhalation, pause, slow exhale. Repeat. His heart began to slow down bit by bit and the images and sounds faded away, departing with the ghost of a slimy touch on his face. Phillip opened his eyes, wiping away a few tears.

“The hoofprints show that the intruder was hovering in the stairwell for a good while,” Red said, a throaty edge to his voice as he frowned at the tire tracks. “I figure he put the box there for Quick, then entered when she went down. We wondered what he was looking for: guess we know now,” he nodded to Phillip.

“I don’t know,” Flash said. “The box thing is kinda convoluted. Why not just use a gun?”

“What I want to know is how he got in,” Twilight mused. “None of the other tenants that were here said that they let anypony in around that time.”

“They might’ve forgotten, or just don’t want to get involved,” Red grunted. “We’ll probably learn more once we get the stuff down to the lab. In the meantime, probably best we speak to the vic’s friends at the Heavenly Bawdy. Bet somepony there knows something.”

Phillip frowned and looked up at the sunny sky, with only a few white clouds floating around. “I’m going to meet up with Daring first,” he reported. “Can you give me a lift to Turnip Avenue?”

“I can take you down,” Twilight offered, beckoning him over to the crime scene truck.

Phillip nodded his thanks and proceeded after her, nodding goodbye to the detectives. He kept his face neutral as he climbed into the passenger seat of the cab, but a sick feeling was twisting in his stomach. As the truck pulled out far too slowly, visions flashed before his eyes of Daring being caught in a net and dragged into a van by figures in masks.

The Red Barn motel was a long, single-story building with a red-tiled roof that sat in a block of asphalt that had been carved out of a thick copse of trees. The sign of the picturesque barn stood next to the sloped driveway, with “Vacancy” flickering beneath it.

“Right there, number eighteen,” Autumn said, pointing to the door marked with a golden number eighteen nailed to it. Daring dipped out of the sky and landed in front of the door.

“That was fun!” Autumn declared with a broad grin. “Wish I had wings! You ever look around up there, see all the sky stretching out before you with all the beauty of the sun and the moon and the stars, and it feels like it’s all looking back at you, smiling, welcoming you?”

“No,” Daring replied.

“You’re such a grump,” Autumn pouted as she unlocked the door with a key she plucked from her mane. “You should learn to look at the bright side. Life is short and when it’s over, it’s over. Why not enjoy it?”

Daring followed Autumn into the motel room. The brown-walled sitting room was covered in a light red shag carpet and featured a large double bed, a sofa and desk, and a television with rabbit ears. One door led to a closet, while another led to a bathroom, both of them shut; a window on the wall admitted sunlight filtered through the layers of green leaves. Notebooks with shorthoof writing splashed over them were scattered over the bed, along with several photographs. A camera, boxes of film, a tape recorder, and rolls of tape were strewn around the room, and a typewriter sat on the desk. Tacked up on one wall was a dartboard with a photograph cut out of a newspaper. Daring recognized the ink-black earth pony with the silver hair and goatee wearing a charcoal suit and tie, his fat flank adorned with the image of a piece of paper with a bit sign on it: Bottom Line, president of Eagle Trust and four-times acquitted fraudster. His photograph was pockmarked with holes and two of the six darts were embedded in his chest and face; clearly, Autumn had gotten a lot of practice in.

But what made Daring quirk her eyebrow were the several arts and crafts pieces littered around the room. Sketches in various mediums, from pencil to charcoal to watercolor, were taped up on the walls. Lined up on the dresser and the windowsill were several small gourds, balls, and rocks, all with faces painted on them.

“Didn’t know it was a party,” she commented as Autumn relocked the door. “Looks a bit crowded in here.”

“Yeah,” Autumn said with a slightly embarrassed chuckle. She went over to a dirty baseball with two eyes painted on it so that the seam formed a wide smile. “I like having someone to talk to, but it turns out that being known for turning into a raging fire monster when you get angry kinda makes it hard to make friends, so you try talking to inanimate objects because they won’t leave you or make fun of you or be scared of you, only then it makes real creatures think you’re not just a raging fire monster, you're a crazy raging fire monster.” She let out a humorless laugh through a forced smile and looked at the baseball. “Talk about a vicious cycle, eh, Speedy?” She tilted the ball to make it look like it was nodding.

A pang of emotion echoed through Daring’s gut, silencing any attempt at a dry comment, and she looked around for something to change the subject. She spotted a watercolor painting on the floor of a skyline, the sun setting behind a river displayed in glorious reds, oranges, and golds. “Is this from the roof of the Corral Market?” she asked, picking it up.

“Oh, yeah,” Autumn said, putting Speedy back down on the windowsill. “I painted that on my first day here. Just managed to put the finishing touches on it before the owner chased me off.”

“It’s beautiful,” Daring said earnestly.

Autumn’s face brightened immediately. “You think so?” she asked. “I--”

She paused, frowning. “Wait a minute. Jack, you were holding this.” She picked the paper up in a light opal aura and placed it back underneath a small pumpkin on the dresser.

The hairs on the back of Daring’s neck stood up. “Autumn, where’s your stuff on Eagle Trust?” she asked.

“Uh…” Autumn began to sort through the mess on the bed. “I really need to learn to be more organized!” she cried, tossing a few papers aside. “Where is it, where--?”

The sound of the bathroom door squeaking open and the distinctive click of a .38 revolver made both mares freeze in their tracks. Daring slowly turned to behold the black-eyed abomination trot out the door, backlit by the unnatural red glow.

Author's Note

Introducing Autumn Blaze, in person! But what will our heroines do to get out of this one? I hope you enjoyed her intro and are looking forward to more!

If you did enjoy, please leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Fifteen, Chapter Two: Dance of the Dead

Daring’s heart leaped into her throat, but she forced it back down with a swallow, taking in a slow, controlled breath. The memory retreated back into her subconscious and reality bled back in.

It was not the Ngluwi...Zugzwang...emerging through the door from the red-skied forest. It was a unicorn wearing a long dark blue trenchcoat and a ski mask that covered his entire body. His cold green eyes glared hatefully at them over the sights of the .38 Steel and Eastson revolver, his hoof inserted into the large trigger guard and lightly pressing against the hair-trigger. A bag stuffed with notes and other materials was strapped to his back.

“Where’s Gold Signature?” the intruder snarled, aiming his weapon at Autumn.

“Who?” Autumn asked, raising her hooves in surrender. “I have no idea who you’re talking about! I’ve never heard of Gold Signature!”

“Where is he?” the intruder snapped again, thrusting the weapon at the kirin, who yelped and backed up.

Now!

The kusarifundo snapped out of her pocket and came down like a hammer, the weight snapping bone with a crack. The intruder howled and dropped the gun with a clatter.

“Ha!” Daring barked with a grin, drawing back for another strike, but a brick wall composed of blue energy slammed into her. She crashed into the wall with a grunt, but landed on her hooves, growling at her attacker.

The intruder pulled the gun back into his hooves with a blue aura as he pulled a small crystal from his pocket and flung it into the air. The teleportation crystal hovered in midair over his head, glowing bright blue, flashing out cyan lightning with a great crackling that made Daring and Autumn’s hair stand on end.

“No, you don’t!” Daring snarled, diving forward, but a bolt of lightning struck her on the wing and she fell with a grunt. A moment later, there was a flash of blinding azure light. When it cleared, the intruder was gone.

“Damn!” Daring snarled, forcing herself back up. She winced and checked her wing, flexing it out slowly to test the muscles. They responded sluggishly, every nerve protesting having to move, but there was no visible damage.

“Are you okay?” Autumn asked, recovering slowly.

“I’m okay. You?”

Autumn nodded, then started sorting through her notes with gritted teeth. After a few moments, she grunted and slammed her hoof against the mattress in frustration. “He took them!” she snapped. “He took all of my research on Eagle Trust! My notes, the photographs, the interview tapes, everything!”

Daring growled, glaring at the area where the intruder had jumped through the portal. “It’s fine,” she tried to reassure Autumn, holstering her weapon. “We can start again.”

“This is how Eagle Trust works!” Autumn shouted, pacing in a small circle, her eyes starting to glow again. “They find and eliminate anything and anyone who can work against them! If we don’t stop them now, they’ll just keep going and going, taking and taking, ruining more lives--!”

Her hooves started to glow, crackling with magic fire; the acrid scent of burnt carpet wafted up into Daring’s nostrils. “Hey, Autumn?” she called. “Take a few deep breaths before you burn the place down.”

Autumn paused, then turned away, breathing deeply. The glow slowly faded from her eyes and hooves.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s fine,” Daring said, patting the kirin on the shoulder. “We’re both okay, and we’ll both find the bastard.”

There was the sound of tires crunching outside. Daring tensed up, one hoof going up to her shoulder holster as she peeked through the peephole set in the door. It was only when she spotted “Police CSU” painted on the side of the truck and the stallion in the gray trilby jumping out of the cab that she relaxed.

“In here, Phil,” she called, opening the door and exiting with Autumn.

“You okay?” Phillip asked, noting the tension in their bodies, the remnants of shock in Autumn’s eyes.

“We’re both fine,” Daring said. “But we just met a friend from Eagle Trust.”

She gave them both a quick explanation of what had happened. Twilight gasped at all the right parts, her eyes widening, while Phillip scowled.

“Did you get any details?” Phillip asked.

“Green eyes, about three foot five, left hooved,” Daring reported. “He had a Steel and Eastson Model 10 with a blue finish.”

“Twi?” Phillip asked.

“Right,” Twilight said, entering the room and scanning everything with her magic aura. The lock on the door sparkled and she leaned in closer.

“Looks like the intruder used a spell to unlock the door from outside,” she commented, scanning the ground. A line of glowing hoofprints--Skytrotter brand, size thirteen--appeared on the ground up to the threshold but vanished when it reached the carpet.

“Darn. The carpet makes it too hard to pick up traces,” Twilight frowned.

The trail itself led around to the back of the motel and through the copse of trees behind the Barn to a street, where it disappeared amidst a cluster of tire tracks.

“Sorry, guys,” Twilight said, shaking her head.

“It’s fine, Twilight,” Phillip nodded. “But we do know one important thing.”

“What’s that?” Autumn asked.

“They asked you where Gold is,” Daring said. “Which means…”

“They don’t know where he is!” Twilight cried. “We still have a chance to find him!”

Autumn let out a cheered laugh. “So what do we do now?” she asked, hopping around excitedly.

“We should go to the Heavenly Bawdy, ask about Quick,” Phil said. “One of them will know something.”

“Oooh, can I go?” Autumn asked.

“No,” Daring said. “You’re going with Twilight to the police station to give a statement.”

“I have so many questions!” Twilight cried, immediately beckoning Autumn over to the truck. “I’ve read about kirin in books, but I never thought I’d meet one in real life!”

Autumn’s look of mingled disappointment and surprise turned into a broad grin as she climbed into the truck. “Well, today’s your lucky day, then!”

“To the Bawdy?” Daring asked, scooping up Phillip beneath his forelegs.

He sighed in resignation at her touch. “Let’s go.”

With a whoosh of wings, Daring shot into the air and headed west.

Right on the western edges of Ponyville, just barely within the city limits, past the tall buildings and ornate mansions of the Financial District, an airship gondola sat within its own little block, as if it had fallen out of the sky and miraculously landed in one piece. The entire edifice was painted in sensuous reds and whites, and a flickering neon sign over the door featured an image of an airship set before a golden-orange sun. Even this early in the day, there were quite a few cars parked in the lot.

Above the neon sign was a poster featuring a familiar cyan unicorn mare posing against a pole, smiling coquettishly at the visitors through her golden bangs, her flank tilted to accentuate the lightning bolt and two hoofprints on her flank. Phillip frowned at the poster, the specter of the dead mare’s pale, purple-specked, bloodstained face dancing over the picture. He shook his head to refocus, trying to ignore the ice that was settling in his stomach.

As Phillip and Daring approached the door, they spotted a sign nailed next to the door declaring that all entrants would be charged a ten-bit cover fee, with another sign beneath it reading “Rules of Conduct.” At the top was a bolded warning:

Feel free to look, but DO NOT TOUCH THE GIRLS. Harassment will not be tolerated!

On the other side of the door was a large sign declaring that the Bawdy was holding auditions and performances for new dancers over the week, with young mares of all species being invited to join.

Phillip opened the door and they entered into the welcoming embrace of cool darkness. A small dark hallway with red carpeting opened up before them, leading to a pair of double doors. Music and the sound of voices thumped from behind the doors, inviting them closer.

“Welcome to the Heavenly Bawdy!” an attendant in a suit and tie declared through a screen that led into what had been the ticket office.

“Detectives Finder and Do,” Phillip said, holding out his PI license. “We’re here to ask about the murder of Quick Step.”

The doorpony’s face fell. “Yes, yes,” he nodded. “Petina is doing a show right now. She’ll speak to you.”

They proceeded through the double doors into a large, dark room that smelled of grilled food and expensive alcohol, with a teasing aroma of flowery perfumes behind it. The wide-open sitting room had several round tables beneath dim lights. A long bar took up most of the back wall, the drinks displayed with the aid of cool blue and orange lighting; the scent of food wafted out from the double doors next to the bar. As the detectives entered, a waitress in a tight, backless blue dress exited the doors, balancing a steaming tray of pasta on her back. A trio of lean bouncers, two unicorns and a griffon, sat in the corners of the room, all of them wearing suits that were clearly tailored to hide body armor. What was not hidden, however, were the stun batons and pepper spray canisters on their belts.

But the main attraction in the Bawdy was the dancing stage. The curtained stage took up the entirety of the far wall and featured three gleaming silver poles; an extension of the stage extended out like an inlet to a smaller, circular stage, the entire construct lit with golden lights. Three mares, all of them clad in stockings and saddles, danced upon the stage to “Geraldine’s Routine,” tossing their manes and shaking their flanks as they twirled and spun around the poles.

Phillip and Daring approached the bartender. “Detectives Do and Finder,” Daring introduced themselves, laying some bits on the bar. “We’re looking for Petina and a Manticore Rare on the rocks.”

“You’re here about Quick, aren’t you?” the griffon in the bowtie and suit asked, already pouring her a glass of bourbon. His voice carried a tinge of a Griffonese accent. “The police were already here, talked to us briefly. Petina broke the news to the rest of the crew already. Damn shame. That’s her up on stage, the white unicorn.”

Daring and Phil turned to face the pony in question. The pure white unicorn clad in red that accentuated all of her athletic curves had a large, poofy mane and tail and a cutie mark of a bit sign. Her green eyes twinkled as she spun around the pole in the center, flanked by a hippogriff and a pegasus, and she winked at some of the cheering patrons watching hungrily from the edge of the stage.

But Daring and Phil had seen enough wooden smiles to recognize one when they saw it.

Petina spun around the pole, hooking her hind legs around it to hang upside down. As she completed her twirl, she spotted Phil and Daring at the bar and frowned for a half-second, clearly recognizing who they were. She climbed off the pole, recollecting herself and replacing the mask as the song began to swing into its final verse.

“What’s your name, mate?” Phillip asked.

“Dricka,” the griffon replied, refilling the beer glass being held by a slouching pegasus with scruffy blue hair. “I’ve been working here for some thirteen-odd years now.”

“Did you know Quick Step?” Phillip asked.

“Ja,” Dricka nodded. “She started working for us a couple of years ago. Sweet girl, one of our best dancers. In fact, she was going to be our headliner: you probably saw the poster out front.”

Phillip nodded thoughtfully. “You know if there’s anypony here who might be jealous of her?” he asked quietly. “Anypony who might be angry about her being the headliner?”

Dricka glanced up at Petina as the song ended. The trio of dancers all took a pose as the crowd applauded and whistled. The bartender leaned in closer.

“The pegasus on the left, Honey Melody,” he muttered, nodding to the golden pegasus who was smiling coquettishly at her admirers, winking through her brown and green bangs and wiggling her rump to display her stocking-accentuated flanks, each adorned with a honey jar with a musical note printed on the label.

“She was Quick’s neighbor, lived in the same apartment building,” Dricka said. “And she really wanted that headliner position. Put on a brave face when Petina announced that Quick won, but she was really pissed after, unburdening herself to me like I’m her therapist and priest.” He frowned and wiped down the bar. “They were friends, but competition can change ponies.”

Petina hopped off the stage and trotted over to the bar, her tail swishing behind her. “Well, well,” she said in a purring tone, a trace of a Neigh Orleans accent around the edges of her syllables. “The most famous detectives in Ponyville. Welcome to the Heavenly Bawdy.”

“Thanks,” Daring nodded, extending her hoof. “Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.”

“I’m sure,” Petina said, looking the couple up and down with a strange glimmer in her eyes. “Shall we discuss this in private?”

She led them through a set of double doors labeled “Employees Only” to the backstage area. A set of curtains hid the staging area from the main stage. Another bouncer was leaning against the wall, tossing his stun baton to himself. A hallway led down to a large green room; a cluster of dancers was chatting around a row of brightly lit vanity tables, adjusting their costumes and applying last-minute touches to their makeup. A line of lockers stood in the back of the green room: as Daring and Phil passed, Honey Melody unlocked her locker with a small blue key on a ring and pulled out a bar of nicotine gum.

Petina continued to a door marked “Office” and opened it, beckoning the detectives inside. They entered what looked more like a living room than an office: the desk with its papers neatly stacked upon it had a chaise lounge instead of a chair, and a low sofa with several cushions was set up for visitors. A minibar held a collection of expensive wines and liquors, and the walls were lined with art of a decidedly sensuous nature. Photographs of Petina with what appeared to be staff members of the Heavenly Bawdy decorated the desk, and Phillip and Daring both quirked their eyebrows when they saw a plushie of Princess Celestia the size of a small mare sitting behind the chaise lounge. The place smelled of lavender and roses.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Petina said as she took off her costume and hung it up on a ponyquin in the corner. “Much as I’d love to invite you to stay longer, business before pleasure.” She sat down on the chaise lounge, gesturing for her guests to sit down on the sofa.

“I already spoke to the police a few hours ago when they came to tell me that they found her: I don’t know what else I can tell you,” Petina sighed. “But I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Phillip nodded. “When did you last see Quick Step?”

“Last night when she was leaving around nine PM,” Petina replied. “She’d just finished her shift and was headed home.”

“Did you notice anything unusual that night?” Phillip asked.

Petina frowned. “She’d seemed a bit preoccupied with her coltfriend recently, and she said that she wanted to get home quick to talk to him. He’s some kind of banker. I asked her what was wrong, but she didn’t want to talk about it.” She scowled bitterly. “No doubt had something to do with the fucking mob.”

“You think the mob had something to do with this?” Phillip asked, tilting his head to the side.

Petina made a noise like an angry cat and began speaking, her Neigh Orleans accent slipping deeper and deeper into her words with every sentence. “I’ve run the Bawdy for years, and practically on day one, that bastard Monopoly and his shit-faced thugs were knocking on my door. Every month, I had to pay up or risk getting my dancers or customers hurt. I remember how Mother-damned hopeless and frustrating it was, knowing that these bastards were running things and there was fuckshit nothing I could do about it...and then you two came along.” She gave the detectives a hard look.

“There was a time when young, sweet, innocent girls with stars in their eyes like Quick Step wound up dead on a regular basis. But that was before you two. Before you took out Monopoly and Silvertongue. Before you killed Whitestone and Zugzwang.”

Black eyes flashed before Phillip’s eyes. A gurgling, inequine voice laughed in his ear and cold slime ran down his face. His chest tightened and his breath began to stab at his lungs; it took a moment for him to push the panic down, and he almost missed Petina’s next words.

“Detectives, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Petina asked, her face creased with concern.

“It’s...it’s fine,” Phillip said and cleared his throat, ordering the memories to get back into the dark where they belonged.

Petina looked down at one of the many pictures on her desk, a framed photograph of herself and Quick Step, both of them posing on stage and grinning at the camera. “This was from her first day here,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, then shook her head and looked up. “This shit isn’t supposed to happen. Not anymore,” Petina was growling, anger and grief sparkling in her emerald irides. “Find them, detectives. Find the bastards who killed Quick.”

“We will,” Daring said reassuringly, raising her left hoof in a conciliatory gesture even as she tucked her right hoof closer to her side, hiding a wince. “Anything you know might help.”

“Have you ever met Quick’s coltfriend, Gold Signature?” Phillip asked.

“A few times,” Petina nodded. “She brought him backstage a few times to chat and meet the other girls. He was nice enough, but I didn’t know him that well. You’d have to talk to Honey Melody about him: Honey was her neighbor, lived in the same building as her.”

Daring and Phil glanced at each other. “Speaking of Honey,” Daring said. “Would you know if any of the other dancers had reason to be angry at Quick?”

Petina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! You think one of them killed her?!” she cried, her accent biting furiously into her words.

“We have to consider every possibility,” Phillip said calmly. “Did she ever fight with the other dancers?”

Petina glared at him. “I know that show business can be cutthroat--Faust knows, I’ve been stabbed in the back by ponies I thought were friends more than once. And yes, sometimes the girls argue or fight amongst each other, and I know a few of them were upset that I chose Quick to be the new headliner instead of them, but none of them would kill her.”

Phillip decided to say nothing. “We’ll still need to talk to the dancers and employees here.”

Petina glared at him for a moment longer, then composed herself and nodded. “Of course you do,” she grumbled through her teeth. “I’ll call you if I think of anything else, but right now, I’ve got some work to do.”

Phillip and Daring stood up and headed for the door, but as they crossed the threshold, Petina called, “Detectives, if you’re going to accuse one of my girls, you’d better damn well have some good fucking proof.”

With that thought, the two closed the door behind them. As soon as they were alone, the panic came back in, waves of crushing pressure rushing over them as his name echoed in their ears, his face danced before their eyes. A passing dancer looked them over in concern, her offers of assistance washed away by his bubbling laughter.

“I need some air,” Phillip said, shaking his head and heading for a backstage door.

“Me too,” Daring said, following him.

They pushed their way up the hall to a backstage door, pushing it open to head outside. The warm sunlight on their faces brought them back to reality, the crisp air that they breathed in deep slowed their heartbeats.

“Is this ever gonna get better?” Daring asked, shaking her head and mopping her face.

“I hope,” Phillip nodded.

“You two all right?” a voice asked. They turned to see Honey Melody herself leaning against the wall of the Bawdy, still chewing on her nicotine gum and doing some light stretches to ease the kinks out of her joints.

“We’re fine,” Phillip said, his heartbeat returning to normal. “You’re Honey Melody?”

“I am,” Honey said, wiping some of her mane out of her face. Up close, the detectives could see beneath the mask of makeup that she wore. Her golden eyes were moist and streaked with red, and every trace of the smile she wore earlier was gone, replaced by an aura of grief.

“I know who you two are,” she said. “Detectives Finder and Do. You’re here about Quick.” She sniffled and wiped at her eye. “Sorry, I...I’ve been crying on and off since Petina told us this morning.”

“You sure you’re okay to perform?” Daring asked.

“Petina already asked if I wanted to go home,” Honey replied. “I gotta dance, otherwise I’m just going to be crying all day. She was my friend, and now she’s just…” A strangled sob escaped her and she buried her face into her hoof for a moment, her body quivering as she fought for control. It only took a moment for her to force the tears down and look up again.

“Is it okay if we ask you some questions?” Daring asked.

“Okay,” Honey nodded.

“When did you last see Quick Step?” Phillip asked.

“Last night, when I got home,” Honey said, her voice shaky. “I...congratulated her on getting the headliner spot. She said I should’ve won…” A shadow of bitterness danced across her countenance for a moment, but then was gone. “But she won fair and square and I told her so. We chatted for a bit and then said good night.”

“And this morning?” Phillip asked.

“I was out the door just before ten, took the bus in,” Honey replied. “Quick usually takes the bus with me, I was wondering where she was. I’d just gotten myself ready when Petina came in and…” She sniffled again and swallowed.

Phillip paused for a moment. “Did you know her coltfriend, Gold Signature?”

“Fairly well,” Honey nodded. “I know he works at some kinda shady bank, but he seemed nice enough, and Quick liked him. That was good enough for me.” She chuckled once. “Can’t hold his liquor worth shit, though. Is he okay?”

“We’re still looking for him,” Phillip said. He paused for a beat, then added, “Honey, I’m sorry to ask you this, but was there anypony who had reason to be angry at Quick?”

Honey shook her head and sniffled. “No, no, everypony liked her,” she said, her voice quivering. “Everypony here loved her. She knew how to make everypony here smile even if they were having a shit day, she helped teach the newer dancers, she always…”

Her voice cracked and she buried her face in her hoof, her entire body shaking as a fresh wave of tears racked it. “I’m sorry, I need to be alone,” she croaked out. She stumbled over to the door and pulled out the same blue key that she’d used to open her locker. After a few blind attempts, she managed to insert the key into the doorknob and turned it. The pickproof charm on the doorknob flashed briefly and she opened up the door, heading inside with a last choked sob.

Phil and Daring glanced at each other. “What do you think?” Phil asked.

“She managed to put on a smile on stage; she’s definitely a good actor,” Daring commented. “But she’s just one dancer here. Any one of them could’ve had a reason to not like her. And then there’s still that angle with Eagle Trust.”

Phillip sighed and mopped his face. “I hope the others are having better luck than us. Let’s see what else we can find out here and then head to the precinct.”

Author's Note

Petina belongs to Baron-Engel, used with his knowledge and permission. If you're not already watching him on DeviantArt, go do it!

I'm particularly proud of this chapter; I think it really brings back the noire-esque themes that were missing in some of the last parts of V2. If you liked it, be sure to leave a like and a comment!

Case Fifteen, Chapter Three: Catching Up

Phillip and Daring pushed through the revolving doors of the Ponyville Police precinct, sighing and stretching as they entered. Daring looked around the lobby, remembering the first time she had stepped through that revolving door. The black and white tiled floor had been dingy and scuffed, the waiting area next to the door furnished by old, creaky furniture, featuring an ancient coffee machine and water dispenser. She glanced down at the floor that had been stained by blood from the prisoner that two cops had dragged past her.

But now the lobby was pristine, the summer air cooled by a low-humming fan. A few ponies sat on the inexpensive but comfortable couches, a pegasus stallion taking a cup of water from the cooler and warm coffee from the dispenser for his wife; though their faces were far from happy, they were no longer avoiding the eyes of every officer who passed by. A gray-maned burro, his uniform and corporal’s chevrons clean and well-pressed, bent down to speak to a teary-eyed young stallion, resting a comforting hoof on his shoulder.

As Daring and Phillip proceeded through the lobby, a low rumble of voices followed, like the wake from a ship. Daring gritted her teeth, imagining the hisses of accusations and suspicion...but then she listened closer and realized what their observers were saying.

“Is that them?”

“It’s them! Detectives Finder and Do!”

“He’s even more handsome than he looks in the papers. What a dreamboat!”

“You think she’d sign my notebook?”

“I saw her, man. She took on Roaring all on her own. Nearly took him out the first time, too!”

“Whoever they’re after doesn’t have a chance!”

“Hey, detectives! Go get ‘em!”

The voices were like a beam of light through the fog of fatigue that was clinging around her. She turned around and shot a smile and a tilt of the pith helmet at the smiling creatures cheering them on.

“And you tell Rainbow not to get a swollen head,” Phillip muttered through a small grin as they proceeded through the doors to the interior of the station.

“Ah, don’t be such a grump,” Daring grinned, booping him as they headed for the stairs.

They climbed up to the second floor and headed to the detective’s offices. Entering the main area, they found a mess of cubicles stretching through the open area, with creatures bustling through the maze-like rats searching for cheese. A constant clatter of voices, ringing phones, hoofsteps, and rustling papers filled the air.

“How does anypony get any work done here?” Daring mused as they proceeded along a hallway, squeezing up against the wall to try to stay out of the near-constant stream of detectives rushing past them.

“You get used to it,” Phillip said, spotting his target. They trotted up to one of the doors along the outer edge of the maze. The lettering on the frosted glass window had been recently replaced, the name on it declared in fresh, bold lettering:

“Sergeant Red Herring, Major Crimes.”

Phillip paused at the door, staring at the name and letting out a quiet sigh. With a swallow, he knocked at the door.

“Come in,” a voice grunted from inside.

Phillip opened up the door and they entered the office within. Red hadn’t had much time to decorate his new office, but there were still a few pics set up on the white wall. One was a photograph of his academy graduating class: he was nearly unrecognizable in the middle row, third from the left, with his shorter haircut and wide smile. The smaller middle picture was Red, younger and adorned in a well-pressed dress uniform, one wing draped around a pale yellow pegasus with wavy green hair and one hoof placed atop the head of a red pegasus colt with a frizzy, leonine blonde mane.

The third picture was taken on a houseboat, surrounded by the sapphire waters of the Maresippi River. Red was standing in the center, mugging for the camera with a bottle of beer clutched in his wing. Next to him was Lug Wrench, sunlight reflecting off his glasses, his oily mane tussled by the wind. His foreleg was around Trace’s shoulders: the unicorn’s horn was alight as he held up the camera, and his smile was small but genuine.

Phillip forced himself to turn away from the picture to face the rest of the room. Red was currently sitting behind the desk, turned away from the mess of paperwork tossed across it as if a small tornado had passed through the room, staring instead out the window at the sky painted by the setting sun with a scarlet that almost matched his coat. Flash was sitting on a cushion in front of the desk, looking over an autopsy report. Autumn Blaze was sitting next to Flash, chattering away.

“Oh, hey, there you are!” she cried, greeting them with a broad grin. “Didja find anything at the Heavenly Bawdy?”

“Not much helpful,” Phillip admitted. “How goes it here, mates?”

“About the same,” Flash admitted.

“I told Detectives Sentry and Herring everything I could remember about Eagle Trust and what happened at my motel room,” Autumn chirped. “We’re making a great team!”

“A team that doesn’t have much to go on,” Red commented, spinning around in his chair. “There wasn’t much evidence at her motel that we or Twilight could find, and since that fink took all of her physical proof, there’s not much we can use to go after Eagle Trust.” Red glanced over at Autumn, who had scowled briefly at the mention of the intruder but showed no sign of starting to turn nirik. “Flash and I already dropped by the place, but they basically told us to fuck off and come back with a warrant,” he added.

“I’m back,” Twilight called, reentering the room with a glowing crystal floating next to her head.

“Ooooh, tell them about the car!” Autumn said, bouncing in her seat slightly.

“What car?” Daring asked.

“We got followed on the way to the station!” Autumn said.

“What?” Daring and Phil both cried.

“I just liked writing: stories, plays, musicals, you name it,” Autumn said, leaning out the passenger window to enjoy the sun on her face and the wind blowing through her mane. “And the best stories I wrote were the ones that made other people happy. But when I left the Grove to travel, I figured I could do more than just write stories. I could write freelance for papers, talk about the problems that everycreature knew about but wasn’t talking about: corruption, pollution, discrimination, poverty. And I still write stories, too!” She smiled. “I’ve been all over Equestria and beyond: Thrussia, Mount Aeris, Prance, Gerwhinny, Nippony, you name it. I’ve done some good: helped get a lousy mayor voted out in Prance, got some pollution laws passed in the Fillypines after the ponies protested a chemical factory…” She gave Twilight a small grin. “Unfortunately, being a kirin and a nosy reporter means I wear out my welcome pretty fast everywhere I go. But, there’s a whole world out there, full of creatures that need some smiles!”

“I see,” Twilight smiled as she turned onto Silver Street, checking her mirrors. “Autumn, it’s great that you’ve dedicated yourself to trying to make this world a better place. It’s why I started working in forensics, too.”

“Oh, I’m sure!” Autumn said. “It’s good to know that there are good ponies out there, trying to--Twilight, what’s wrong?”

Twilight’s eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror, staring at a dark blue Mustang Economy Coupe with tinted windows that was trailing behind their truck.

“I think that car’s following us,” Twilight said, fixing her eyes on the road. “He’s been behind us for five turns now.” She squinted at the plate. “ZM1 2HR,” she murmured to herself.

“You sure?” Autumn asked, turning around to watch the car.

“Don’t look at it! We don’t want him to know that we’re onto him!” Twilight snapped, turning left onto a residential street. “I’m going to try to make sure, hang on.”

Autumn let out a nervous chuckle. “This is kinda like in a detective novel,” she said through a grin, keeping her gaze on the mirror. The blue two-door followed around the turn with them.

Twilight slowed to a halt at a stop sign, then turned right. A red van pulled in behind the forensics truck, trundling behind them at a lazy pace.

“Maybe he’s not following us,” Autumn said hopefully.

“We’ll see,” Twilight said, sweat running down her mane. She drove carefully through the narrow, winding streets of the neighborhood, glancing at the mirrors every second. Autumn kept her eyes on the passenger side mirror, one hoof tapping at the door like she was trying to send a telegraph.

Twilight stopped at a stop sign, throwing a terse smile at a cluster of chattering children that crossed in front of her, then turned right again. The red van puttered off to the left as they passed around a curve shaded by thick trees. Both mares kept watch on the reflections, but instead of the blue Coupe, a newspaper filly on a bike pulled in behind them, whistling cheerfully as she tossed a paper onto a porch.

“Guess he wasn’t following us after all,” Autumn grinned at Twilight. Twilight gave Autumn a relieved smile as they paused at a stop sign. “Let’s get back onto that Silver Street, we’ve got time to make up!”

Twilight proceeded through the stop sign, paused to allow a griffon and a thestral playing basketball to step aside, then trundled down the road to a four-way intersection, reaching the line just as the light turned red. The street sign on the corner announced that they were now on the corner of Silver and MacHillard. Twilight hit the left signal, sighing in relief as she settled back in her seat. “Thankfully, those detective novels are just fiction,” she said.

“Funny you’d say that, after everything you’ve been through,” Autumn commented as the light turned green.

“Point,” Twilight replied, turning back onto Silver Street. “But just because--”

A growl of an engine prompted her to look back in the mirror. Her face fell in a moment when she saw the shape behind them. The blue coupe, license plate ZM1 2HR, was pulling in behind them, closing in fast.

“Oh, no,” Twilight muttered, hitting the accelerator.

“Should we call for backup?” Autumn asked, rolling up the window and looking down at the radio in between their seats.

“Good idea,” Twilight said, lifting the mouthpiece with her magic and clicking it on. “Breaker, breaker. This is Bishop One, 10-33 on Silver and Magnolia. We’re being followed by an unknown car: Mustang Economy Coupe, license Zebra Mike One Two Hotel Romeo.”

All that answered them was a hissing of static. Twilight gulped and clicked the radio again. “Breaker, this is Bishop One. Does anypony copy?”

More static hissed back at them. Twilight looked up in the mirror to see the coupe was practically tailgating them, close enough that they could see a dark silhouette behind the tinted windshield. “Fiddlesticks,” she muttered.

“Now what?” Autumn asked with a swallow.

Twilight let out a groan, her eyes darting from mirror to street, then her face brightened with an idea. “Hang on!” she said, slamming the brakes and swerving onto a side street with a squealing of tires. Autumn yelped, bracing against the door as the truck rumbled around the corner. The pursuing Coupe had to brake hard to try to follow them and got stuck behind a pair of cars that pushed in with blaring horns.

Roaring down the road, Twilight swiveled her head from side to side. “There!” she cried, turning onto a decline, descending into a parking garage. Darkness overtook the truck like the garage was some great beast that had swallowed them whole; the headlights from the truck revealed rows of cars sitting in dusty parking places beneath dim, bare bulb lights. Twilight swerved around a cluster of parked cars and slithered into a parking space in a shadowed corner as her horn sparked with lavender magic.

Waves of purple energy spread over the truck as Twilight turned off the engine with a clicking. The blue paint of the truck turned into white, the decals faded away, and the license plate’s numbers blurred and shifted.

“Get down,” Twilight urged Autumn, ducking beneath the windows. Autumn slithered down as well, carefully peeking over the window. She realized that she was holding her breath when she noticed that her breath wasn’t fogging the window.

Twenty seconds passed. Thirty. Forty. Autumn glanced down at Twilight, who had her horn sparking faintly as she maintained the illusion spell. “Maybe we lost him,” she smiled.

A pair of headlights pierced the darkness like the eyes of some beast searching through the night for its prey. The blue Coupe trundled slowly into the garage, turning up their row. Autumn gasped and curled up into a ball, covering her head. Twilight’s breath came hard and fast, her horn flaring faintly with every heavy exhalation. Sweat ran down her mane into her eyes, making her grunt in irritation as she blinked the salt out of her gaze.

Tires crunched against stone and dirt as the vehicle came closer; the beams from the headlight passed over them like some hostile, foreign sun. Both mares tensed up, as if the slightest movement, the slightest noise would give them both away.

A moment later, the light passed them by and the sound of the car retreated. Autumn slowly looked up and caught the tail end of the car driving on. It circled the level, then headed back outside, disappearing into the sunlight.

Both mares breathed a long sigh of relief. “Nice work, Twilight!” Autumn grinned at the unicorn, giving her a playful punch on the shoulder.

Twilight let out a relieved smile as she climbed back into her seat. “Actually, I read that in a detective novel, too,” she admitted. “At the time, I thought you couldn’t make an illusion spell on the fly like that. Guess I was wrong.” She started the truck back up again. “Okay, we’ve wasted enough time. Back to the precinct!”

“I suspect he was using a jamming device to jam our radio,” Twilight said.

“I should’ve been with you,” Flash frowned, taking Twilight’s hoof. “If I’d been--”

“Flash, it’s okay,” Twilight said, squeezing his hoof. “Autumn and I came out of it all right. We’ll be more careful in the future.”

Flash looked unsure, but he nodded after a moment.

“Unfortunately, I already checked on the car,” Red commented. “That plate was stolen from a different car weeks ago, and we’re still trying to find the car, and our suspect. And Gold Signature.”

“I’ve told Detective Herring and Flash here all I can remember about Gold,” Autumn volunteered. “I just hope he’s okay.”

“We’ll find him, Autumn,” Twilight assured her.

“I’m sure,” Autumn said, grinning at Phil and Daring. “You’ve got these two working for you. You’ve taken down a bunch of crime bosses, cleaned up what used to be one of the worst cities in Equestria in terms of crime rates...heck, you two are practically heroes! We can stop Eagle Trust, too!”

Daring let out a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “Nice to hear some optimism,” she confessed, some part of her noting that the branded skin felt warm.

“Life’s too short to be negative!” Autumn declared, booping her on the nose. “I gotta get back to my motel room, I’ve got a lot of writing to do!”

“We’ll have some officers escort you back and keep an eye on your room for you,” Flash offered, signaling to a couple of patrol officers who were speaking to a detective outside. Both of the unicorns gave Autumn confused stares but nodded when Flash gave them their instructions.

“Bye! See you later!” Autumn waved at the detectives with a smile as she trotted out after escorts.

Red let out a puff of air. “Boy, she’s a weird one,” he commented.

“Not the weirdest we’ve met,” Daring pointed out. “What did Mortis say?”

“Uh…” Flash muttered, running a hoof over the file before him. “Here. She says that the cause of death was a type of neurotoxin taken from a...waterspike fish?”

“Lagospherodi diogen,” Twilight said, illuminating her horn and conjuring up a holographic image of a pale yellow and gray fish with spines all over its rotund body and disproportionately wide, bloated eyes. “A type of poisonous blowfish from Nippony. Its organs contain a lethal dose of a neurotoxin, and there’s no known antidote for it. The meat is a delicacy there: according to one book I read, a Nipponese chef has to study for three years to be allowed to prepare it. A single miscalculation can make the entire meal poisonous.”

“Okay, so how did our killer get it?” Flash asked.

“That fish is only native to the Nipponese shores, but you can buy it in some markets,” Twilight mused.

“We’ll have to check with fish markets, too,” Flash added, scribbling a note in his notepad.

Red stretched with a groan. “You two get anything useful at the Bawdy?” he asked.

“Very little,” Daring admitted. “I get the feeling that Petina and her crew didn’t really want us around.”

“Well, until we get something, we’re running low on leads,” Red grumbled. “I can put out a BOLO on your intruder and Gold Signature, but until then, there’s not much we can do but wait.”

“C’mon, there’s probably a few markets that are still open,” Flash said, standing.

“Rookie, what’re you gonna do?” Red asked. “Check every fish market in Ponyville and ask them if they carry this lugosphere diophen?”

“Lagospherodi diogen,” Twilight muttered, mainly to herself.

“And we’ve got some other things to check on right now,” Red added, picking up some of the papers on his desk and flopping them onto the table. “Sorry, Sentry. Just because you’re a detective doesn’t mean we only deal with one thing at a time anymore.”

Flash opened and closed his mouth a few times, glancing at the darkening sky, then sighed and nodded assent. “Okay.”

“I’ll keep going over the trace evidence from Quick’s home,” Twilight said, kissing Flash on the cheek before exiting. “I’ll see you all later tonight!”

“Aces,” Phillip nodded.

“Now what?” Daring asked, rolling her shoulders. "We could check the markets ourselves--"

“Phil!” a voice called. Looking out the doorway, Phillip spotted Bumblebee wandering through the room, head turning on a swivel. When he spotted Phil, he hurried over.

“Phil, you gotta come,” he said. “It’s your parents.”

Phillip’s heart leaped into his throat. A memory of his mother’s scream echoed in his mind, and he smelled the blood that had poured from her back. He sprinted out of the office, following Bumblebee, with Daring right on his tail.

Huffing and puffing, Bumblebee led them down to the first floor and into a side office. Hearing his mother’s voice, Phillip burst ahead, pushing open the door into the blank interview room. Prowl was sitting on one end of a table, notepad in her lap, her calming countenance turning into surprise at his entry. On the other side of the table sat Rain and Bobby, Rain resting her hoof on the table next to a paper cup of coffee, her husband’s hoof atop hers.

“Mom, dad!” Phillip cried, entering. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine, son,” Bobby said, greeting him with a reassuring hug.

“What happened?” Phillip asked, trying to order his hooves to stop shaking, failing to exorcise the images of his wailing mother lying bleeding on the red clay from his mind.

“It’s fine, son,” Bobby smiled at him. “We just had an unwanted visitor drop by.”

“I’m back, hon,” Bobby called from the hallway, closing the door to 221 Honeybee behind him and latching it shut. The bags dangling from his sides clanked and rustled against his body as he entered, placing the bags on the counter. A low, familiar droning noise was coming from outside, like a buzzing that came from the air itself vibrating with ethereal music. Smiling, Bobby followed the noise to the door to the back porch.

His wife was sitting in her wheelchair on the back porch, playing her didgeridoo. Her hooves gently embraced the swirling red, blue, and white tribal patterns painted over the hollowed eucalyptus. Her eyes were closed as she buzzed her lips into the instrument, the unceasing sound rolling over and over in the air as she breathed through her nostrils with practiced ease.

Bobby just stood at the door with a wistful smile on his face, watching his wife playing: sitting still in her chair, movement barely visible, she looked like a feature of the landscape, as ancient as the soil itself; indeed, a sparrow fluttered over from the bare branches of the cherry tree in the backyard and landed atop Rain’s instrument, head tilted as it listened to her song.

Finally, after an eternity that passed in heartbeats, Rain’s recital ended. She lowered the didgeridoo, prompting the sparrow to fly off with a tweet of thanks, and turned to smile at her husband. “You were staring at me while I played again,” she playfully chided.

“You know I can’t help it, Rainy,” Bobby grinned, exiting onto the porch. “Every time you play, you look just as beautiful as you did the day I fell in love with you.”

“You’re such a dork,” Rain giggled, reaching out her forelegs to him.

“Our son had to get it from somewhere,” Bobby smirked back, taking his wife into his embrace and kissing her sweetly on the lips, running a hoof through her long mane. Rain hummed in contentment as she returned the kiss, gently ruffling her husband’s ponytail.

A rapping at the door ruined the moment quite neatly. Sighing, Bobby released his wife and reentered the house, holding the door open for her as she trundled in on her wheelchair. Proceeding to the front door, Bobby peeked out the window to see an off-white pegasus clad in a trenchcoat, his scruffy blue mane falling about his face. The visitor’s head swiveled from side to side as he looked around.

Bobby opened the door a crack. “Are you looking for Phillip Finder or Daring Do?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” the pegasus nodded, licking his lips and blinking his emerald eyes.

“Sorry, mate, they’re out at the moment,” Bobby replied. “But if you wanna leave a message with me--”

He was interrupted by the pegasus bursting forward like a switch had been thrown, the door ramming him in the chest and knocking him back with a grunt. A wheezing Bobby could only watch as the guest shoved his way into the door.

“Mate, if you want to see them that badly--” Bobby grunted, rubbing his chest as he followed the intruder inside.

The pegasus’ eyes focused on Rain as he entered the living room. She instinctively bristled, pulling away a bit with her wheelchair. “His mom, huh?” the pegasus grunted with a small sneer. “So he’s a stinking crossbreed mudpony, too.”

“Excuse me?” Rain said with a growl.

“You two listen,” the pegasus said, stalking over to Rain and gripping the arms of her wheelchair, leaning down close to her face. His stinking breath, reeking of alcohol and poor dental hygiene, struck her like a slap. “When your freak kid comes back, tell him that if he knows what’s good for him and his family, he and his bitch will stay away from the Heavenly Bawdy, and stop snooping around Quick’s death. She--”

A harsh “Ahem” pierced the air, accompanied by the rattle of a cutlery drawer opening. The pegasus turned to find that Bobby had entered the small kitchen-dining room and was now glaring at him over the wood countertop. As the intruder watched, the glaring earth pony pulled a large knife and a knife sharpener out of a drawer, moving with deliberate casualness. He placed the blade against the sharpener and slowly drew it across the metal with a shiiing.

The pegasus blinked at the knife, then looked up at Bobby. The elder pony kept his gaze fixed on the emerald irides, bringing the knife back to the top of the sharpener and drawing it down with a slow rhythm, making a musical shiiing, shiiing, shining with every repetition.

“That’s my wife and my son you’re messing with,” he growled, a cold fire burning in his wizened blue eyes.

The intruder gulped, the color draining from his face until he was white as a sheet. “Oh-gosh-look-at-the-time-I-gotta-go-have-a-nice-day-bye,” he said, turning and heading for the hallway with his tail between his legs.

Something whistled through the air and struck the wall next to the pegasus with a loud THWACK. The intruder froze, slowly turning to look at the quivering knife stuck in the wall inches from his head.

“Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Rain said coldly, driving herself towards him and using her didgeridoo to push the trembling stallion into a chair. “I’m sure my son and some of his friends would like to meet you.”

Phillip sighed. “Dad, you shouldn’t have opened the door for him,” he chided. “If he--”

“Lesson learned, son,” Bobby said, raising a hoof. “Let’s just be grateful that no one was hurt.”

“Damn, you guys are cool,” Daring grinned. “We should bring you out with us on cases.”

“No, thanks, that was quite enough excitement,” Rain chuckled.

“Where is he?” Phillip growled at Prowl.

“He’s in a holding cell,” Prowl replied, nodding down the hall. “He’s already lawyered up, he--hey!” she called to Finder, who was now storming out of the interview room.

Daring followed him down the hall to the locked metal door that blocked the path to the holding cells. Sergeant MacWillard was sitting behind the duty desk, scribbling on a clipboard.

“I guess you’re here to see our new friend Cross Breeze?” he commented, glancing over his shoulder at the lines of surveillance crystal feeds projected from the wall behind him. The scruffy-maned pegasus was currently sitting on the ripped, flattened mattress in Cell Number Seven, staring at his hooves.

“Messing with family is a scummy thing to do,” MacWillard commented, grunting in pain and shifting in his seat. “If you want, I can kill the surveillance feed for a couple of hours,” he added, pulling a small bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and shaking a couple of white pills into his talon.

“Tempting,” Phillip admitted, the thunder rolling and roaring in his chest. “But no. Just need to talk to him.”

MacWillard nodded as he swallowed the pills dry, reaching beneath the desk and hitting the button. With a buzz, the steel door opened and Phillip pushed through, with Daring right behind him.

A concrete hallway of barred doors stretched out before them. They trotted past a few occupied cells, the tenants throwing out catcalls, taunts, and insults at their backs, before stopping at number seven.

Cross Breeze looked up at them: a glimmer of defiance flashed briefly in his green eyes, but it soon vanished, replaced by a look of defeated contempt.

“The pony from the bar in the Bawdy,” Daring growled.

Phillip gripped the steel bars that separated him from his foe: some part of him, the storm inside the thudding heart that beat against the idol of Angkakert tucked beneath his vest, imagined bending the bars aside and pouncing on his prey, dreamed of hearing him beg for mercy.

But he shook those thoughts aside. He wasn’t that pony anymore. He couldn’t be.

“Who sent you?” he growled at the prisoner.

“I’m not saying shit until my lawyer gets here,” Cross Breeze replied, shooting them a half-formed attempt at a glare. “Nothing except this. Stay away from the Bawdy, detectives. There’ll be others.”

Phillip’s other hoof lunged up and seized the bars with a crash of metal. Cross Breeze yelped and scrambled away from the door, comically tumbling off of the bunk with a chorus of yelps.

“Phil,” Daring said, laying a hoof on his shoulder. He glanced at her, hot breath coming fast through clenched teeth, then slowly let out a long sigh and released the bars, turning and stalking away.

“You got lucky,” Daring scoffed at the cowering pegasus through the bars and turned to follow Phil.

Author's Note

Just to solidify where Phillip gets it from.

I originally was going to just use a regular blowfish as the toxin, but the real-life blowfish doesn't kill quite as fast as I wrote it in the script, so I just made one up.

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Case Fifteen, Chapter Four: Homestead

Thump, thump, thump!

“Good!” Bobby grinned, sidestepping his partner, raising, lowering, and tilting the punching mitts to give them moving targets. “Keep your hooves up between hits.”

His red-faced partner nodded, panting heavily as they continued to pummel the mitts. Every punch echoed through the basement gym, each hit hard enough to make his hooves sting.

“Think fast!” Bobby shouted, lunging with his right hoof. His partner slipped the attack, countering with a quick jab to the other mitt held before his chest.

“Good! You’ve been working on that!” Bobby grinned, retreating. “Here it comes!”

His right hoof snapped out. His partner started to slip, but froze, their eyes widening in shock as the feint retreated. A heartbeat later, Bobby’s left hoof crashed into the side of her head, eliciting a startled yelp.

Bobby sighed and lowered his mitts, wiping some sweat from his brow. “You were thinking, weren’t you?”

Twilight rubbed the side of her head where she’d been hit and grimaced. “I know, Bobby,” she admitted, pushing her sweaty mane out of her eyes. “I was expecting the right punch again and reacted too early.”

“When you think, you stop,” Bobby replied. “And when you stop, you get hit, as you did just now.”

“It’s not easy for me to turn my mind off,” Twilight admitted. “There’s just so much for me to think about: using my entire body to strike, how to move, position my hooves, what technique to use…!”

Bobby chuckled and laid a hoof on her shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in at first, I know,” he said. “But with time and some hard yakka, it’ll get easier. I’m sure that those spells of yours weren’t easy when you were starting out, but now I'm sure you can do some truly amazing spells without even thinking!”

Twilight smiled and nodded, a faint blush coloring her cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you, Bobby."

“Now, again,” Bobby said, raising the mitts once more. Twilight took a breath, mopped her forehead, and raised her hooves once more into a guarding position before throwing out a practiced jab-cross combo. “Good, keep going,” Bobby instructed, starting to maneuver around her.

As Twilight continued to work, the thumps of her hooves against Bobby’s mitts mixed with Phillip’s grunts as he pummeled the heavy bag in the corner of the basement gym. He moved around the target with a practiced fluidity, one attack snapping out right after another. In the middle of the room, Daring and Flash were engaged in a wing-up contest; the sweat that dripped from their soaked manes formed puddles on the mat.

“Eighty-seven,” Daring grunted, her forehead brushing against the floor as she dipped down. Her wings shuddered with effort as she slowly pushed herself back up, groaning through gritted teeth. Her shoulders ached from the effort of keeping her forelegs mounted to her sides, but she kept them locked still. Her wings locked out to their full extension, and she relaxed the muscles, allowing gravity to slowly pull her back down to the ground, inhaling as she caught herself inches from the ground. Flash, however, faceplanted into the ground with a solid thwap.

“Eighty...eight…” the younger pegasus groaned, his wings trembling like willow trees in a hurricane as he tried to push himself back up. He made it halfway up before collapsing in a heap, panting and trembling as his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

Daring grinned at him as she pushed herself back up. “I win,” she panted, placing her hooves on the ground and standing up with a relieved sigh.

“I’ll...catch up...one day,” Flash panted, slowly hauling himself back up. He huffed and shook his head, tossing sweat from his mane.

“I’m sure you will one day, kid,” Daring grinned. “But Rainbow Dash is probably way ahead of both of us by now.” She sighed and ran a hoof through her mane. “I miss her,” she admitted. “Hard to believe she won’t be back for another five weeks.”

“I bet that she’s loving air force training,” Flash replied. “She’ll be an officer in the Wonderbolts before we know it.”

“Guys! Dinner!” a voice called from upstairs. Everypony halted their exercise and headed up the stairs with relieved groans and sighs, rubbing sore muscles.

Rain was waiting at the top of the stairs, smiling at her charges as they filed up past her. “Been a long time since I cooked for such a large party,” she chirped happily.

“Definitely makes up for coming over here to be beaten like I was back in training,” Flash commented with a groan, plucking the shoulder holster carrying his .45 Filly M1912 from the hoofrail at the bottom of the stairs and carrying it up with him.

"You've improved a lot in a short time, though," Phillip said, clapping the stallion on the back. Flash's face briefly lit up with a proud smile.

“So have I,” Twilight said. “But I think I prefer doing research and experiments!”

“You said you wanted to learn how to defend yourself,” Daring pointed out. “We told you it wouldn’t be easy.”

“Well, I think Spike and I have just the thing for after a hard workout,” Rain smiled, wheeling herself over into the kitchen. Spike was currently carrying a steaming pot filled with pasta mixed with mushrooms and beef out onto the porch; the darkness out back was lit not just by stars, but by the glowing coals of a campfire set on the ground before the bare cherry tree.

“Spag bol,” Phillip smiled at the mouth-watering aroma, licking his lips in delight as his eyes tracked the steaming pot.

“It’s not Aussie-quality beef, but we made do,” Rain smiled. “We’ve got some dampers for you to try, too.”

“Damper?” Flash asked, opening the door to invite in the scent of baked bread.

“Soda bread, baked in the coals of a campfire,” Bobby explained.

“Despite the name, it doesn’t actually have soda in it,” Spike commented, placing the pot of spag bol on a rickety table next to a plate loaded with round, white, still-steaming bread and seven plates and sets of cutlery.

They feasted on the dinner, speaking of other things, laughing at stories and memories. When dinner was over, Flash, Spike, Bobby, and Phil walked out onto the backyard and began tossing a ball back and forth.

“So, do you have any ideas on who killed Quick?” Flash asked, tossing the ball to Phil.

“What did I tell you, Flash?” Phillip replied, catching the ball.

“Right, right: don’t theorize unless you have all the data,” Flash nodded, watching as Phillip tossed a curveball to his father. “But what data do we have?”

“Not much, unfortunately,” Phillip admitted. “But we have a BOLO out on Gold, and on the stalker. Tomorrow, we’ll speak to the crew at the Bawdy again, see what else we can find out.”

Flash groaned and shook his head. “That doesn’t feel like enough,” he admitted. “We should be doing more, looking back over the crime scenes, just...something!” he cried, flinging his hooves up into the air.

“You’re awful wound up, kid,” Daring said lackadaisically, looking up from the typewriter that she’d brought out onto the porch.

“Working on your story?” Twilight asked, leaning over to check her papers.

“Yeah, your mom sent over some edits on the latest draft,” Daring confirmed, checking a letter with notes and comments before retyping a sentence.

“A mare is dead and another stallion is running for his life!” Flash shouted. “I don’t see how you can be so calm about this! I...do you just not care?”

Phillip gave him a small scowl as his words struck him like a hammer. The reverberation echoed through the tensed muscles in his gut, making the stress that he’d been hiding beneath the mask writhe like a serpent, raising its hissing head. He braced himself, but the images came, all the same, washing over him in a torrent of noises and smells and sights.

Trace screaming as the beast devoured his eyes and brain. Bodies in bloodied uniforms and armor laying amidst the carnage of a dark, dank tunnel. A silver-haired unicorn that stank of death, one eye missing, the flesh pulled away from his face to reveal rows of yellowed teeth, lunging at him.

“Phil? Son?”

Phillip latched onto his father’s voice and pulled himself back into reality, wresting back control of his breathing. The world shifted back into focus around him and he realized that he was staring at the ground, one cold, trembling hoof rubbing the Angkakert totem that hung around his neck. His father was rubbing his back, bright blue eyes full of concern.

“I’m okay,” Phillip nodded, taking a breath as he ordered the serpent to slither back into its hole. He looked up to find that all of the others were also gazing at him in concern. All except for Daring, who had turned away to hide her pallid face, folding her arms and wings in close in an attempt to stave off the shivering.

“We do care, Flash,” Phillip said coolly. “But we’re all tired and stressed out from a long day. Rest is important, too.”

Flash hung his head. “Sorry, Phil,” he mumbled. “I…” He rubbed the back of his head and sighed.

“I really want...no, I need to get this case done right,” he admitted. “Captain Oak had me brought in to Major Crimes as Red’s partner because of my track record and because I’d worked with Red before, but...there’s a lot of ponies who think that I don’t deserve to be on that desk. That I got promoted because I’m just the department’s golden boy.” He gritted his teeth. “I have to prove them wrong...and prove it to myself. If I can’t do this, then…” He lowered his head. “Then maybe I don’t deserve to be a detective.”

“Flash, you passed the tests,” Twilight reassured him, trotting over and giving him a hug. “You’ve had a lot of experience. You’ve proven time and time again that you’re brave and smart and quick-thinking. You’ve proven that you have what it takes to be a detective. Don’t listen to the naysayers; listen to your experience.”

Flash managed a small smile at Twilight. “Thanks, Twi, but...I still feel like I should be doing more.”

“He’s got a point,” Daring commented from the porch. “I’m no fan of just sitting around and waiting for stuff. At the very least, we could go take another look at Quick’s apartment.”

“This late at night?” Spike commented. “Will they even let you in?”

Twilight suddenly brightened with an idea. “We don’t have to go there! I’ve got it here!” Her horn lit up and with a pop of purple light, a notebook appeared in front of her. She flipped it open to a page that was scrawled over with runic symbols.

“This is an experimental method that I’ve been trying,” she explained, beckoning Flash, Phillip, and Daring over and drawing a circle with them inside of it. “I took a scan of the crime scene when I was there and copied the data onto this. If I did it right, it should give us a three-dimensional view of the scene.”

“Which means…?” Daring asked.

“Watch!” Twilight said, placing the notebook on the ground in the center of the circle, drawing other runes around the book. She lit up her horn, murmuring a soft, rolling chant as purple energy began to fill the entrenched lines, letting out a soft hum. The notebook’s pages turned on their own with a loud rustling, then the lines began to glow.

A moment later, there was a flash of light, and then the four ponies were standing inside the front hall of a cozy, well-lit apartment.

“Whoa,” Daring said, looking around. She reached out to try to open the drawer of a nearby table, but her hoof merely went through the image.

Flash looked down, then gasped in horror and jumped back when he realized that he was standing inside the specter of Quick Step’s body, who still lay on the floor next to the dropped phone. She stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, face blue and tongue hanging out of her mouth ghoulishly.

“Sorry,” Twilight said sheepishly. “But as you can see, it worked! This is exciting: a new way to reexamine crime scenes, preserving it for eternity!” She squeed and clapped her hooves together.

“Wow,” Spike commented, leaning in through a wall to study the projection. “Looks just like a dome of light from outside. You’ve really outdone yourself, Twi!”

“Crikey,” Bobby said as he and Rain both leaned in through the wall. “Sheila, you’re bonzers at this!”

“Yeah, this is awesome!” Flash grinned. Twilight blushed beneath the attention.

“Okay, let’s see if there’s something we missed the first time around,” Phillip said, wandering about the room.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Bobby said as he, Rain, and Spike retreated.

“If Gold Signature left before Quick woke up, he might’ve left behind something,” Flash posited.

“Or taken something with him,” Phillip said, pausing and looking at the small woven basket on the hallway table where the phone had stood. The only things in it were a small key and a bottle of hoof sanitizer attached to a bracelet.

“Bet this basket is where they kept their keys,” Phillip said, glancing down at the dropped apartment key next to Quick’s body. “But there’s one key that’s missing from here.”

“Her backstage key!” Daring cried. “She didn’t have it!”

“Maybe the intruder took it,” Flash pointed out.

“Possibly, but it didn't look like he paused in front of the table,” Phillip mused, moving on.

The living room didn’t yield anything else useful, and Twilight guided them over into the bedroom by turning the pages of her notebook, making the room move around them. A scan of the bedroom revealed nothing else of interest, but Daring turned towards the cracked door that led into the bathroom.

“Didn’t Mortis say that Quick was dying her mane?” she mused out loud.

“Uh...yeah,” Flash replied.

“Let me satisfy my curiosity on something,” Daring said, prompting Twilight to flip a page and sending the bathroom sliding towards them. Daring checked the sink, then leaned into the trash can and poked around.

“Aha!” she declared. “There’s a bottle of mane dye in here, and traces of dye in the sink!”

Everypony else checked and also spotted the spots of blonde liquid in the sink bowl and the empty bottle and brush in the trash can.

“And Quick didn’t apply that,” Flash commented. “That dye in her mane was weeks old.”

“Gold must’ve dyed his mane before he left,” Daring concluded.

Phillip checked the small closet in the bedroom, scanning the small collection of coats and other clothes within. “I see an empty hanger and a missing tie on the rack there,” he said. “If he took the backstage key…”

“Then he could’ve sneaked into the backstage of the Heavenly Bawdy,” Daring concluded.

“Because...he was trying to hide something there!” Flash realized, his eyes widening. “There must be something he had, some proof about Eagle Trust, and he hid it there because he figured that it would be harder to find than in his apartment!” He bounded out of the image. “C’mon, we gotta go now!”

“Hold on, Flash,” Twilight cut him off, closing the book and erasing the magical circle, causing the construct to dissipate into little motes of light that faded away. “We’d need to get a warrant first before we search the Bawdy.”

“And there’s still the fact that we know the Bawdy is being watched,” Daring pointed out. “If we go in there snooping around, somepony there who works for Eagle Trust could let them know what’s happening. We had two close calls already today: pushing our luck too much is a bad idea.”

Flash glanced over at Twilight, who had frowned nervously, shuffling one hoof. “Well, what do you suggest?” he asked, stepping closer to her, one wing half-extended as if to drape around her.

Daring pondered silently for a moment, tapping her chin in thought, then her eyes brightened with an idea. “You think Rarity can do rush jobs?” she asked Twilight.

Twilight raised an eyebrow as Daring outlined her plan. “Are you sure about this?” she asked slowly.

“Can you even dance?” Flash asked, his face the picture of skepticism.

“I can,” Daring said defensively. “I learned how to dance ballroom and swing when I was in the Family; makes for a good cover for high-society events and dance halls.”

Phillip smirked. “Oh, hush. I'm not that out of practice,” Daring hissed, sticking her tongue out at him.

The other three all glanced at one another, then Phillip sighed. “I suppose it’s the plan we’ve got,” he conceded. “In the meantime, I can help Flash and Red interview the staff.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky this time,” Flash muttered, putting on his shoulder holster and tightening it to his body.

“I’ll work on a simple glamour for you in the morning,” Twilight offered to Daring. “I’m not very good at illusions, but I think I can get something to alter your cutie mark and mane and coat.”

“Appreciate that,” Daring nodded, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. “It’s late; we’d all best get some rest for tomorrow.”

“I’ll take you and Spike back home, Twi,” Flash offered as they headed inside, where Spike, Rain, and Bobby were waiting.

“Thank you, Flash,” Twilight smiled as they reentered, scooping up a semi-dozing Spike from the couch. “Thanks for the practice, Bobby.”

“Can’t wait till next time, sheila!” Bobby grinned at her, waving goodbye as the visitors exited into the night. The rumble of a motorcycle starting up pierced the night, then the growling of the engine faded away into the dark.

Gathering up the typewriter and loose manuscript, Daring set the equipment on the small writing table in the living room, opposite Phillip’s experiment worktable. She stacked up the papers with a smile, marking the place where she’d paused her editing with a bookmark.

“I can’t wait to see that published, ampa,” Rain smiled at her.

“Me neither,” Daring replied as Phillip and Bobby headed upstairs, both stallions yawning.

“Good night, ampa. I love you,” Rain said.

Daring paused, the warmly spoken words echoing in her chest. I love you. She could never recall her own mother or father ever saying that to her, or to each other: what little she could recall of them speaking at all was either inebriated slurring or violent shouts that seemed to shake the foundations.

She turned back to Rain, swallowing, finding it hard to speak. “I...good night, Rain,” she mumbled, wincing internally as the inadequate words spilled lamely out of her.

Rain just smiled and stroked Daring’s cheek with a hoof. The touch lasted only a moment, but Daring found herself gently rubbing against the hoof, wishing it would last longer, trying to hold onto the soft warmth of the touch as she climbed upstairs and into bed.

She slithered up against Phillip, who gently wrapped his forelegs around her, murmuring quietly and nuzzling her ears as she cuddled into his embrace. Sleep soon took them both.

“Thanks for the ride, Flash,” Twilight said as she climbed off the back of the motorcycle.

“Yeah, thanks!” Spike said, popping out of the sidecar and trotting up to the door of the squat little house on Golden Oaks Drive.

Flash smiled at Twilight but then frowned, looking up at the house.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked.

“I…” Flash muttered, rubbing his mane. “After what happened to you today, you should have some extra protection, but I can’t leave my mom alone.”

Twilight chuckled. “I appreciate the thought, Flash, but I’m not worried about any intruders: after Whitestone, I made sure to double-check all of the wards on my house.” She lit up her horn as Spike inserted the key into the front door. A barrier of magenta energy flashed over the house, arcane symbols running along the length of the wards. “There’s no chance that anypony could get into my house without me knowing.”

“But…” Flash started to say, fidgeting on the bike.

“But I figured that you wouldn’t want to choose between me and your mother,” Twilight said, raising her foreleg and offering it to him. “So I already made plans.”

“Huh?” Flash asked, his mouth hanging open as he took her foreleg and allowed her to guide him to the front door. A grinning Spike held the door open for them both.

As Flash trotted into the hallway, greeted by the familiar photograph of Twilight with her family on the wall, his ears perked up when he heard a familiar mare’s voice humming from inside.

“Mom?” he called as they entered the living room and spotted the gray-maned pale gold unicorn sitting on the couch, her body covered with a thick blanket, one hoof running over a Braille library book.

“Hi, sweetie,” Pastor Joyful Sound smiled in their general direction. “Thanks for inviting me over, Twilight. And thanks for checking out these books for me.”

“It was the least I could do,” Twilight smiled.

Flash looked back and forth between his mother and Twilight before a smile crossed his face. “You brought her over so we could all stay safe?”

“It made sense,” Twilight explained. “The increased risk of being a single target was balanced out by any would-be intruders having to deal with several protective wards, a dragon, and a trained and armed police officer.”

“And one of the best magic users in Equestria,” Flash added, booping Twilight.

Twilight blushed, her ears flopping back. “Thank you, Flash,” she mumbled.

Spike yawned. “We’ve got a pretty big day tomorrow. You’d best get some sleep, Twi, otherwise you’re gonna be up all night making plans.”

“I should be getting ready now,” Twilight said, shaking her head to try to stave off fatigue. “A glamour isn’t that easy to set up--”

“Twilight…” Spike said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“He’s got a point, Twi,” Flash agreed.

Twilight tried to glare at both of them, but could not fight off a yawn of her own, nor prevent her heavy eyelids from blinking. “Ugh, fine,” she mumbled. “Let’s get to bed. Good night, Pastor Sound.”

“G’night, mom,” Flash said, kissing his giggling mother on the forehead.

“Good night, dears,” Joy chuckled, laying down on the couch and wrapping the blankets around herself, continuing to peruse her book.

Twilight led Flash and Spike upstairs to her bedroom. Spike waddled over to a small basket loaded with blankets and pillows in the corner and clambered into it, curling up beneath the sheets. He was snoring within moments.

Twilight and Flash both paused, looking at Twilight’s bed. Flash looked over at the nightstand table. Lit by the bedside lamp was a small vase filled with a light turquoise liquid and a bouquet of lavenders.

“Aren’t those…?” he found himself asking.

“A special potion I made with help from Fluttershy’s friend, Doctor Tree Hugger,” Twilight explained with a nervous chuckle. “It’ll keep the flowers alive and healthy for a long time.”

“Oh. That’s...cool,” Flash replied, rubbing the back of his head.

Both of them looked at the bed, then at each other, their cheeks turning darker shades of red by the moment. “So…” Flash started to say.

“There’s a sleeping bag you can use...unless…” Twilight mumbled, rubbing her foreleg nervously.

“Unless?” Flash prompted.

“Unless...you’d like to sleep with me?” Twilight offered, her cheeks turning red.

“Er…?” Flash asked, his mouth dropping open.

“N-not like that!” Twilight quickly cried, her face doing an excellent impression of a stop sign. “I, I just meant...if you were here, it would...make me feel safer…” Her voice trailed away and she resumed rubbing her foreleg again as her head lowered, but Flash spotted her eyes darting about into every corner, checking the dark night sky out the window twice.

Flash smiled and nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

He loosened his shoulder holster and placed it on the leg of the bed frame. Switching off the light, Twilight pulled the sheets back with her magic and they both climbed onto the mattress. Flash gently wrapped his forelegs and a wing around Twilight, pulling her close to share his warmth. Twilight let out a soft, contented coo as she nestled her head against his chest, right next to his dancing heart.

“Flash?” she murmured, pulling the sheets back over them both.

“Yeah?” Flash asked, trying to keep his heart from leaping right out of his chest and quietly scooting his hips away from her.

She leaned up and her lips brushed against his, soft and warm. He kissed her back, running one hoof along the long mane that smelled of lavender and parchment.

“I love you,” she whispered, blinking up at him with eyes that reflected the shimmering stars through the window and seemed to magnify that light, warming him to the core.

“I love you, too,” Flash smiled at her, kissing her on the forehead and placing his chin atop her head. She let out a little giggle and nestled up against him.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry!” Twilight cried, pulling away from him. “Sorry, I didn’t think about my horn!”

“It’s okay,” Flash said with an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing his cheek where he’d been jabbed. “Maybe...you should be the big spoon," he suggested, trying not to glance down at what he hoped was a relatively small bulge in the sheets.

“Sounds like a plan,” Twilight said sheepishly.

Flash turned around so that his back was to her, letting out a quiet sigh of relief that she hadn’t noticed. As Twilight wrapped her forelegs around his chest and tucked her head against the side of his neck, he thought he heard his mother giggling from downstairs. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and was soon asleep.

Author's Note

I liked writing this chapter. It was good to give these characters some time to relax and show off the growing familial bonds between them.

I was trying to imply that these training meetups with Flash and Twi are becoming more common, but it's always bugged me that I"ve never had time to show that in the previous stories. Oh, well, hopefully I can fix that in the future.

Leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed!

Case Fifteen, Chapter Five: Spotlight

The sunlight filtered through the mist that hung stubbornly over the asphalt. Despite the hour, the neon lights on the Heavenly Bawdy were lit, the ghostly orange mirage of the blimp before the false sun luring visitors and hopeful auditioners into the den.

Daring sat on a low-hanging cloud, frowning at her target beneath her as she puffed on a cigarette. She reached up and scratched at the silver teardrop earring that was now clipped to her left ear. She could feel a static-like buzz of Twilight’s magic emanating from the accessory when she touched it, the energy of the glamour spell that had turned her mane and tail from a greyscale rainbow to a solid silvery blonde with blue highlights, transformed her eyes into a shade of bloodstone red, dyed her coat a darker shade of yellow-orange, and hid the brand on her right hoof.

Then she glanced down at her clothes and her scowl deepened. Her cargo shirt and pith helmet were concealed inside the cloud beneath her, covered by a thin layer of cloud so that it wouldn’t fall through: a pegasi trick that she’d learned in the Family. Instead of her normal attire, she was wearing a sapphire saddle and four blue and white striped stockings. The ones that were on her hind legs were strapped to the saddle, hitched up high enough to cover most of her cutie mark: she’d covered up the rest with some makeup just to make sure. Hopefully, no one would recognize her.

She shifted to adjust for the costume’s unfamiliar embrace. She had to admit, for a rush job made from some leftover dance costumes for the Bawdy that had been lying around the Boutique, Rarity had done an excellent job of making the costume fit her well...and judging by the way Phillip’s ears had turned a deep shade of scarlet when he saw her in the finished ensemble, it did look nice on her. As Rarity had promised, it “hugs your curves in just the right way, accentuates all of the right angles to make stallions and mares alike admire that athletic body of yours. You’ll have ponies eating out of your hoof, darling!”

Daring hadn’t bothered telling Rarity that the point was to not attract too much attention. And while the thing did keep her warm and disguised, she still felt naked without her pith helmet and shoulder holster. All she had to rely on right now was the cache in her rear and her wits.

Hearing voices below, she looked down and noticed a couple of young mares wearing colorful panties and stockings, their coats brushed and manes adorned with highlights and beads, chattering to one another in high, nervous chirps as they exited the sidewalk and headed for the door. One of them passed a flyer detailing the Bawdy’s auditions to the other, smiling in forced confidence and assurance.

Daring sucked in a long breath of minty smoke and let it out in a long sigh, releasing some of the tension in her shoulders along with the cloud of smoke that petered out to join the rest of the clouds. “The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can get out of this ridiculous costume,” she muttered, dousing the cigarette in the cloud and flicking it away and patting the stocking on her front left leg, checking to ensure that the warrant was still tucked inside the cloth.

She spread her wings and glided down to the ground. As she reached the asphalt, the totem of Awely-Awely bounced against her chest. She knew it was silly, but the cool carved wood against her chest felt oddly comforting, just like it had felt in a dream of dark temples buried in hot sands. And maybe it would be another distraction from her face.

She landed on the asphalt and trotted towards the beckoning neon light. As she passed through the mist, she spotted a familiar rust-colored Diplomat 600 sitting in the parking lot. One more distraction to keep anypony from noticing her.

Inside the Bawdy, the warmth of the interior dispelled the tendrils of cloud outside. She flashed a smile to the attendant and passed him some bits for the cover fee.

“Here for auditions?” the stallion asked, his eyes roving hungrily up and down her body, ignoring her face.

“Yeah,” Daring chirped, feigning a little nervous giggle as she headed for the entrance, following the sound of music.

“Good luck!” he called after her, eyes hovering on her flanks right up until the door closed behind her.

Daring looked around the Bawdy, taking in her surroundings. There was a larger crowd of ponies here today, most of them crowded around the stage, cheering and applauding as Petina danced with two auditioning unicorns to the familiar beat of Crooning Diamond’s Doctor Wanna Do. The two mares twirled and pranced with the fluidity of long practice, shaking their flanks and tails for the crowd to admire; Petina was following their routine with relaxed confidence, her gaze on the auditioners as they performed. Dricka was back at the bar, grinning as he served drinks to thirsty customers.

As Daring watched, the door to the kitchen opened and another staff pony in a suit exited, frowning over his shoulder at the figure in the doorway. Red Herring only gave Daring a cursory glance before beckoning over a costumed hippogriff that was anxiously hovering near the door.

Daring didn’t even look twice at him. Instead, she focused on her target, the door to the backstage next to the stage. A female unicorn bouncer was manning the door with a clipboard.

“Morning,” the bouncer greeted Daring as she approached. “I’m guessing you’re here for auditions?”

“Yup!” Daring chirped.

“Name?” the bouncer asked.

“Shining Shuffle,” Daring said.

The bouncer scribbled down her name on the clipboard, then opened up the door for her. “Follow the signs to the dressing rooms and wait for Petina to call you up. Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Daring smiled at her, heading inside the stark white hallways of the Bawdy’s backstage. A paper with a red arrow was taped to the wall, pointing auditioners to the dressing rooms.

Daring followed the sign towards the voices into the dressing room to find that it was occupied by almost a dozen mares, all of them in costumes and gathered in little clusters of groups, chattering nervously to one another, performing stretches, or practicing short routines. A pair of bouncers were leaning against the walls, faces impassive as they kept watch over the newcomers.

Daring looked around the room, taking in the rows of mirror tables, low couches with fluffy cushions, and the racks of lockers in the back wall, slightly hidden from view by some black curtains. A glance up confirmed that a pair of security crystals were set in opposite corners of the room, staring down at the dancers. She breathed deep, inhaling the scent of jasmine and lavender perfume that hung around the room, masked by sweat, makeup, and a tense nervousness that she felt as a hot, heavy pressure like an oncoming storm front.

She wandered into a corner and started doing some stretches and light warmup exercises, subtly looking about beneath her mane. Most of the other dancers were paying her no heed and the security guards were relaxed, leaning against the wall and allowing their gazes to wander out of boredom. Now would be her chance to look around.

The police had already checked Quick Step’s locker and found nothing. But if Gold Signature had come here to hide his papers and proof, where had he hidden them? In another dancer’s locker? If so, why hadn’t somepony found it and come forward?

Unless it was found by somepony who was working with Eagle Trust…

She opened up a pocket in her saddle and pulled out a small blue notebook, scribbling a note in it with a blue pen:

I’m in. You got anything?

Her writing faded after a moment, then new writing in Phillip’s familiar quick scratches appeared as the notebook grew warm in her grasp.

No. Security crystal didn’t help: couldn’t find Gold on there. Look around quick, but be careful.

Swallowing back a curse, Daring put back the enchanted notebook, having at least assured herself that Twilight’s charm worked. Wonder if Sparks helped her with that…

A familiar voice made Daring’s ears perk up as her body froze. No way. She couldn’t be here.

And yet, when she looked up, her eyes confirmed her suspicion and elicited a low groan. A creamy kirin with autumnal orange hair wearing light green and white striped stockings and a red ribbon around her body like she’d gift wrapped herself was chatting with a couple of unicorns who were studying her with skeptical expressions.

“Great,” Daring grumbled to herself, lowering her head.

Autumn looked up and spotted Daring, bouncing over with a grin. “Hi! I’m Autumn Blaze!” she said with a giggle, leaning in close to Daring’s ear. “So you had the same idea I did!” she whispered.

“What?” Daring said out loud. “I’m not--”

Autumn just grinned at her. “Nice glamour, but it doesn’t hide your build, or your body language, Daring. I’ve seen quite a few disguises in my time,” she whispered with a giggle.

“You’re going to get us both in trouble,” Daring hissed, stretching out her wings. “Just stay out of my way.”

“I figured that Gold might’ve hidden his notes at the Bawdy,” Autumn continued unabated, trotting in place as if warming up her limbs and tilting her head from side to side to loosen up her neck. “I mean, I already checked everywhere else he might’ve gone, the bar where we met up, the restaurants he frequented. And when I figured out that Quick’s backstage key was missing from her apartment, I thought I’d look around--”

“How did you--?” Daring interrupted, unable to stop herself from snapping her head up to stare at the kirin. “Did you sneak into Quick’s apartment?” she hissed.

“I asked the superintendent to let me in last night,” Autumn replied. “I told him I was a friend of Gold’s and I was looking for something he left behind, something that might help the police. Technically not a lie!”

“You could go to jail for that!” Daring hissed at her.

“Oh, and you’re going to tell me that everything that you and Phil have done is legal?” Autumn smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Daring fumed silently at Autumn for a few seconds, then sighed and relaxed, shooting a small, reassuring smile at a security guard that was frowning quizzically at them. “Okay, touche. But you’re still putting yourself in a lot of danger.”

“It’s worth it,” Autumn replied quietly, grim determination etched into her face. “Eagle Trust has ruined enough ponies’ lives. Quick Step has to be the last one. I’ll make sure of it.”

Daring admired Autumn for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. “I can understand that,” she admitted. “Just...you gotta be more careful. You’re gonna get yourself killed if you’re not careful.”

Autumn let out a soft, nervous chuckle as her eyes darted around the room. “That’s what you’re here for,” she quipped. “So, any idea on where Gold might’ve hidden his stuff?”

“We’re looking for papers or something,” Daring hypothesized. “I was thinking he hid it in one of the lockers, since that key would’ve let him in there, but now I’m not sure.”

“Bad place to put ‘em if you didn’t want ‘em to be found, or if you wanted to get to ‘em again quickly,” Autumn pointed out. “Plus, he came in here with a suit and tie, right? It’s what I’d wear if I was a dude and wanted to blend in here: I don’t think Gold would look good in a saddle!”

Daring tried to picture the stallion in the missing photograph that she’d seen--a unicorn with a coat as white as paper, severe green eyes and a stern brown manecut--wearing a colorful jeweled saddle and stockings. The mental image caused her to burst into a fit of giggles, which sent Autumn into a laughing fit herself.

Daring quickly recovered herself when she realized that most of the other dancers were staring at them. “Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat and elbowing Autumn to try to get her back under control. “Just nerves.”

She leaned in back close to Autumn. “Okay, point. But where would he…?”

She blinked in realization. “The security guard’s break room?”

“Possibly,” Autumn shrugged. “But how are we gonna get in there?”

Daring looked over the kirin’s body, noting the mare’s lean, fit form, her cream-colored coat and full, fluffy, brightly-colored mane. “What?” Autumn asked.

“I think we can come up with a distraction,” Daring smirked. “C’mon.”

She led Autumn out of the room, making a “need a smoke” gesture at one of the bouncers, who nodded in understanding. The two mares exited out into the hallway and started to trot down towards the end of the hall.

As they approached the door marked “Security,” the backstage door opened and two mares reentered the building. Daring recognized one of them and casually leaned against the wall, shuffling her hoof to imitate nervousness. Autumn paused as well, tilting her head against Daring’s as if they were having a private conversation.

“I know they’re doing their best to find Quick’s killer,” Honey Melody sighed, running a hoof through her brown and green mane. “But why did they have to do this on audition day? Like we haven’t got enough to think about!”

“I know,” the blue hippogriff that had been dancing with her the previous day sighed, shaking out her silver mane so that the golden highlights caught the light. “But I guess they’re trying to move things along.”

“I just can’t imagine any of us killing her,” Honey said. “Not even over that stupid headliner thing.”

“Maybe you need another night to chill out,” the hippogriff said. “How about tomorrow night, I come over and cook again? I just learned this new dish with salmon at culinary school that I’ve been dying to try out!”

“Sounds great,” Honey smiled, draping a wing around the other mare and kissing her cheek as they passed by Daring and Autumn, not even giving them a second glance.

Daring glanced back at the other mares, then nodded to Autumn, gesturing her head to the door. Autumn nodded with an excited grin and gently pushed open the door.

The bouncers’ break room was a small but tidy affair, with a set of lockers all along one wall, rows of comfortable chairs, a couple of well-stocked vending machines, and a large table in the center littered with magazines and cheap paperbacks. Currently, there was only one bouncer in the room, a young blonde earth pony stallion that was sitting back on one sofa, scanning a well-used gun magazine. He looked up with a start when the two mares entered.

“Huh? Um, you’re not supposed to be in here…” he mumbled uncertainly, lowering his magazine but not rising from his seat.

“Oh, sorry!” Autumn chirped. “My friend and I were just looking for the restrooms and got a little lost.” She smiled bashfully and sauntered over to the bouncer, flicking her tail from side to side. “We’re not in trouble, are we?” she asked, lowering her head and batting her eyelashes at the bouncer.

The young stallion blinked and swallowed nervously, his eyes traveling up and down her costumed body. “Um,” he mumbled.

Autumn giggled and approached him, her expression not unlike a mare who found a delicious piece of candy that she’d been craving. “You’re kinda cute,” she purred, running a furry hoof up and down the bouncer’s chest. “Been working here long?”

“No, actually, I...just started a few weeks ago…” the bouncer admitted, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

While Autumn kept the bouncer distracted, Daring walked into the room, her movements slow and unobtrusive as she started to search the room. Keep your feathers crossed, folks, she thought, considering the trash can and the kitchenette table, looking over the vending machines, considering where she would go to hide a set of documents.

Come on, Daring, she thought to herself as she walked past the kitchenette countertop. You’ve found hidden treasures in mansions, sunken ships, caves, and underground temples. This should be easy. Her eyes fell on a plate of brownies that somepony had brought in to share and she snatched one, gulping down the savory chocolate with a smile. Easiest treasure hunt ever. Okay, back to work.

Daring dismissed the trash can and the cabinets as unlikely hiding places. She paused in front of the sink and bent down, pretending to adjust her stockings as she scanned the floor. In her experience, the best places to hide something in plain sight were either very high or very low.

She cracked open the door and quickly scanned the area beneath the sink, finding nothing but some cleaning supplies and paper towels. But as she closed the door, something caught her eye: a piece of loose string that was poking out from beneath the coffee vending machine, like the head of a curious snake peeping out of its den.

Any loose thread was worth pulling: in this case, quite literally. Daring glanced over to find that the young bouncer was now petting the emerald scales on Autumn’s back with a slow, hypnotic rhythm while Autumn cooed appreciatively and gave Daring a quick wink. Daring nodded back and quickly walked over to the vending machine, bending down and pulling at the string.

Something relatively heavy was on the other end, being dragged along the floor. When Daring pulled it out, a grin lit up her face.

A manila folder, almost an inch thick, papers practically spilling out of the edges, stared back at her. The thin white cord was tied to the folder’s clasp.

Daring slid the folder back underneath the machine, then snatched up her notebook and scribbled out a quick message:

Found it! It's under the vending machines in the bouncer's break room.

A moment later, Phil's reply appeared:

Got it. We'll get it in a moment when we go back to question somepony else.

Rising, Daring headed for the door, nodding to Autumn to follow her. “You’re cute, but we’ve got to get going,” Autumn giggled, booping the young bouncer. “Maybe I’ll save a dance for you later.”

The blushing stallion nodded slowly, letting out a half-formed affirmation through a wide smile. Autumn winked at him and turned to follow Daring.

“Hey! What are you two doing back here?!”

Both mares froze, staring up at the speaker that had just rounded the corner. The tall coal-black unicorn with the cutie mark of a padlock made of stone was built like she’d been carved from a mountainside, her two-toned silver and brown mane and tail cut in a short, no-nonsense style. She wore the same suit and tie as the rest of the bouncers, every crease so sharp it could’ve sliced fruit. Her granite-colored eyes blazed with cold suspicion as she glared at Daring and Autumn.

“Oh, we were just looking around,” Daring said quickly, feigning a nervous grin up at the bouncer. “My friend here met that guy and thought he was kinda cute, so--”

The mare bouncer glared at the young stallion, who looked like he wanted to sink through the floor, then glared back at Daring. “You’re here for auditions, and yet you sneak into the break room. And don’t tell me you were looking for the bathroom or something, because there’s one in the dancer’s break room. What were you doing?”

“Just looking around, like I said,” Daring said, holding her ground as her options flashed through her mind.

“Doing more than that,” Autumn said with a giggle, wiggling her flank at the younger bouncer, who turned as red as a tomato.

“Hey,” the dark mare squinted. “You’re that reporter that was asking questions around here a few days ago.”

“Uh...yeah, but...I just like to dance, you know?” Autumn said, standing up and doing an expert pirouette, ending with a toss of her mane and a winning smile, shaking her shoulder at the bouncer. “Journalism doesn’t always pay the bills, so I thought I could get a job here! If you love something, why not get paid for it? So my friend and I were just checking around back here and I thought I’d get to know some of the guys here--”

“Likely story,” the mare huffed. "Like you'd waste your time auditioning. No way we'd hire a freak like you."

Autumn flinched, then lowered her head, her ears folding back and her lower lip trembling. Indignation flared up in Daring's gut, and she growled at the bouncer. "You--"

"Shut it," the taller mare snapped at her. “You two are going--”

“Stone Lock, ease off, it’s all right,” a familiar Neigh Orleans-accented voice declared. Petina approached, wiping sweat from her mane and giving Daring and Autumn a quick glance.

“Boss, these two were sneaking around backstage,” Stone protested, gesturing angrily at them. “This happens soon after Quick Step gets murdered? It’s not a coincidence. We’ll let those cops that are here sort them out.”

Behind Stone’s back, Daring nodded rapidly. Petina glanced at her, then looked back at Stone Lock. “Stone, it’s fine. They’re not spies or with the mob or anything. I’ll vouch for them. And I'll ask you to be polite to our auditioners,” she added in a colder tone, giving Stone a piercing stare.

Stone Lock stared at Petina for a few moments, then huffed and stalked off. Petina waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to Daring.

“You’d better have a warrant,” she hissed, beckoning for them to follow her back down the hall.

Daring reached into her stocking and pulled out the small sheaf of papers with Judge Gavel’s signature and shoved it at Petina. “How does everypony keep recognizing me?” she muttered to herself, flicking irritably at the earring.

“It’s a good glamour, but I’ve seen better,” Petina commented as she studied the warrant before nodding and handing it back. “Honestly, I first recognized your friend.” She gave Autumn a wink, her gaze panning up and down her body. “Nice costume.”

“It’s one I keep on standby for occasions like this,” Autumn giggled, twirling around to show it off.

Petina gave the kirin another appraising look before turning back to Daring, her expression serious. “You wouldn’t be snooping around here for no reason. What’s going on?”

Daring shook her head severely. “That’s not your business. But it is related to Quick’s death.”

Petina frowned at her for a moment, then sighed. “Well, whatever you’re looking for, I hope you find it.”

A sharp whistle sounded from down the hall. “Boss, two minutes!” a male voice called.

“Shit,” Petina hissed, grabbing Autumn and Daring’s forelegs in her magic and tugging them along with her as she hurried down the hall. “We’re coming!”

“Wa-wait!” Daring protested, trying to stop herself only to have Autumn start pulling her along as well. “I didn’t--”

“You came in here pretending to be an auditioner. What did you expect?” Petina smirked at her. “Besides, it’s good for your cover.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!” Autumn giggled. “You know how to cut a rug, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. But not in front of others!” Daring protested.

“Do you both know Tape Five?” Petina asked.

“Yup! I love their albums!” Autumn nodded. Daring nodded curtly, accepting her fate as she was positioned behind a set of red curtains

“Good.” Petina patted Daring’s cheek. “Just relax and follow along with me. This is an easier piece, so you should be able to keep up.”

Daring seethed at her, then glared at Autumn. “Hey, don’t blame me,” Autumn said, raising her hooves.

“I blame you,” Daring hissed through her teeth.

“Smile, you two!” Petina hissed as the music started playing from a record system, a chiming piano melody that was joined by a brass set. Daring’s ears perked up in recognition: Bad Colt, Good Stallion.

For a moment, she was eighteen years old again, standing in a basement decorated with crates of equipment and trophies ranging from a gold-plated pistol nicked from a drug dealer’s safe to a mold-eaten cask containing silver coins retrieved from a sunken ship at the bottom of Horseshoe Bay. An old, tinny record player croaked out swing music, the saxophone and piano melodies mixing with the laughter of two mares as they practiced.

“No, no, okay,” Sparks giggled, her emerald irides sparkling as she practiced, the floorboards creaking beneath her steps. “It’s like this, one, two, shuffle, three!”

“One, two, shuffle, three,” Daring repeated, mimicking the motion.

“There, you’re a natural!” Sparks grinned. “Okay, let’s go through the whole song again…”

Reality reasserted its presence when the curtains parted and the crowd cheered. The mask of a smile slid easily onto Daring’s face and she struck a pose alongside Petina and Autumn, drawing further cheers. The trio strode out onto the main stage, taking positions at the three poles.

Petina whirled into the music with controlled enthusiasm, nodding her head and shaking her shoulders and flanks as she spun around the pole. Daring was just a step behind, mimicking her movements while Autumn grabbed the pole and lifted herself up, shooting the crowd glowing smiles as she flicked her tail.

As Daring twirled around, her gaze panning over the entirety of the Heavenly Bawdy’s clientele, she caught sight of some familiar faces near the back of the room and her smile turned into a brief grimace. Flash Sentry was staring, mouth agape in disbelief. Phillip, standing near the doors to the backstage, had lowered his face onto one hoof, while Red Herring looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or roll his eyes.

Phillip looked up as Daring followed Petina down the runway, exasperation in his gray eyes, and Daring gave him a helpless grimace. Rearing up on her hind legs, Petina leaned against one of the poles, expertly posing against it. Daring lifted herself up onto another pole as Autumn joined them, wiggling her body so that the light caught the scales on her back to form a kaleidoscopic display of color.

“I’m a bad colt and I need to dance!” the record declared and all three ladies shook their flanks and shoulders in time to the beat, bobbing up and down on their knees. One beat behind Petina and Autumn, Daring casually leaned up against her polished gold pole, lowering her head and shaking her shoulders so that her mane fell down over her eyes. She puffed it out of her face with a sharp exhalation.

As her gaze panned over the crowd, Daring saw him, leaning against the back wall near the bar. A dark green unicorn with a silvery-blue mane, three-foot six, his green eyes lidded as he sipped from the bourbon he held in his left hoof. As Daring watched, he shifted the dark blue trench coat he wore, almost as if he was adjusting for some weight he was hiding beneath his clothes.

Doing a quick cross-step to keep up with Petina, Daring made eye contact with Phil and tapped her head next to her eye twice.

Phillip’s face darkened and he quickly glanced around, hiding the examination by pretending to cough. Spotting the stallion out of the corner of his eye, he scratched his nose in affirmation. Breathing out a sigh, Daring fixed the mask back onto her face and shook her flank in time to the chorus.

Phillip glanced over at his target. The unicorn in the trenchcoat didn’t seem to notice him, sipping languidly from his shot glass. With a frown, Phillip turned and headed back through the swinging doors into the pantry. “Are you sure she knows what she’s doing?” Flash whispered to him, his wing twitching as he fought the urge to bring it up to his mouth.

“Just keep an eye on that wanker. But don’t make it obvious,” Phillip hissed, proceeding past the racks of cheeses and vegetables. Red was standing in the back, questioning Honey Melody.

“Look, I told you already,” the mare huffed, leaning against a stack of soup can crates. “The night before Quick…” She swallowed and shuffled her hooves. “Died...I was at my apartment with my marefriend, Pearl Lake, having a home dinner and a lie-in. I woke up around nine in the morning--Lake was already gone--got myself squared away, and took the bus into work. I didn’t see anything suspicious.”

“Hmm,” Red muttered, glancing at his notepad.

“And before you ask, yes, I was upset that she got picked to be the headliner over me, but that’s not a reason to kill her!” Honey snapped. “That’s all I’ve got to say. Can I go now?”

“Sure,” Red nodded. “Just don’t skip town.”

Honey huffed and stomped out, giving Phillip a brief glare and a disdainful flick of her tail as she passed him.

“What do you think, Phil?” Red asked, snapping his notebook shut.

“I think we still need to figure out where our poisoner got the poison,” Phillip muttered.

“Well, once Twilight figures out how many markets carry that...poison fish thing, we can get to work on that,” Red replied. “Now, what do we do about the guy out there? Think we should grab him now?”

“We grab the minnow, the big salmon could get away,” Phillip replied. “Let’s just keep an eye on him, see where he leads us.”

“Got it,” Red nodded. “Bet Trace can--”

He froze for a moment, his face twisting in pain, and a scream echoed in Phillip’s ears as a vice gripped his chest. It took a moment for both stallions to recover, pulling themselves back to reality with slow breaths.

“It’d be easier if we had a unicorn,” Red grunted, lowering his head under the pretense of rechecking his notebook.

An explosion of applause announced that the song was over. Red and Phillip exited back onto the main lobby to see Autumn, Daring, and Petina posing on the rear stage, accepting the laudations of the crowd before bowing and heading backstage as the curtain dropped. Flash’s eyes were directed towards the stage, but his head was cocked so that he could watch the unicorn in the trench coat out of the corner of his eye. Their target continued to lean against the wall, stirring his drink in a bored manner as his emerald orbs panned over the room.

“What’s the play?” Flash whispered.

“Keep watching the other wanker,” Phillip said, heading to the backstage door, entering with the spare key that he’d borrowed.

When he entered the backstage area, he found three sweaty mares, two of them grinning from ear to ear. “Woo! I haven’t had that much fun in ages!” Autumn whooped, rearing up onto her hind legs and kicking her forelegs in the air.

“You are magnificent!” an enraptured Petina cried, giving Autumn a brief but glowing hug. “I have got to have you!” She gave Daring a sideways glance. “You...need some practice,” she said through a slightly forced grin.

Daring stuck her tongue out at Petina, then spotted Phil. “Oh, thank Faust,” she sighed, hurrying over to him. “Can I get out of this now?”

“Soon,” Phillip said, giving Petina a meaningful look. Her face fell into a serious countenance and she exited with a nod and a whisper of “good luck.” Phillip waited until she was out of sight, then gestured the two mares into a small alcove. “What are you doing here?” he hissed at Autumn Blaze, glaring at the kirin, who was still smiling happily up at him.

"Causing problems," Daring grunted.

"Hey, I helped!" Autumn protested.

"You're putting yourself in danger," Daring replied. "Was having a gun pointed at you not warning enough?"

Autumn opened her mouth to protest, paused, then sighed. "I just wanted to help..." she mumbled, shuffling her hooves.

Daring sighed and mopped her face. "I get it," she said. "I do. I know you want justice for Quick Step and for the ponies that these bastards have hurt. But in the future, leave it to the professionals."

Autumn nodded. "I get it."

"Right now, we need to get you two out of here safely," Phillip cut in. "There's a wanker outside waiting for us."

Autumn’s golden eyes widened in excitement. “Ooh, what’s the plan?” she asked eagerly. “Are we gonna don disguises and sneak out right beneath his nose? Pull him into a trap?”

“He’ll have recognized me. And I’m willing to bet that he brought friends,” Phillip mused. "Wait here."

He vanished down the hall, then returned a few moments later, drawing a manila folder from beneath his vest and handing it to Daring. “Daring, take this. Your job is to get her somewhere safe.”

“What about you?” Daring asked, a flicker of worry in her red irides as she tucked the binder beneath a wing.

“I’ll lead him away,” Phillip said grimly. “I…” His hoof shook a bit and he had to take a breath, clearing away the pressure on his chest. “I’ll have Red and Flash backing me up. I’ll be fine.”

Daring’s face twisted as she tried to form a protest, but she finally sighed and nodded. “Got it. We’ll head out the back. I’ll grab the rest of my gear from the cloud outside and take her to the precinct.”

“Aces. Stay safe,” Phillip said, giving Daring a brief kiss on the lips. She broke away all too quickly, then grabbed Autumn and tugged her down the hallway.

Phillip watched them go, then turned and headed back to the door that led onto the lobby. He pushed open the door, looked around, and his stomach dropped.

Red, Flash, and the unicorn in the trench coat were gone.

“What do you think they’re doing back there?” Flash asked Red, keeping his eyes on the closed door labeled Employees Only.

“I learned long ago there’s no point worrying about those two,” Red muttered, shaking his head. “Just focus on the job, kid.”

Flash frowned, allowing his eyes to slowly roam around the room. He spotted a couple of bouncers in suits wandering amidst the crowd, the chatter having quieted a bit while the patrons waited for the next show. One bouncer, a blue griffon, gave the detectives a brief nod as he passed them.

The other, a white unicorn with a blonde mane and beard, kept his gaze on the stage. Flash studied this pony closer, something nagging at the back of his mind. The unicorn was wearing a dark blue suit and red tie, all of it closely fitting his form. His cutie mark was a horseshoe with wings, his mane and beard well-trimmed.

But when Flash looked closer, he noticed some traces of brown in his hair. He spotted sweat gleaming on the pony’s head. And when the bouncer passed beneath a light, his cutie mark gleamed oddly, unnaturally.

Flash nudged Red. “I think that’s Gold Signature,” he whispered, nodding to the bouncer.

“You sure?” Red hissed back.

“His mane is dyed, and he’s covered up his cutie marks with makeup,” Flash replied. “I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, let’s see if we can escort him out of here safely,” Red replied. “If you--”

The blonde unicorn suddenly looked up. His eyes, a brilliant amber, met Flash’s, and he froze like a mouse that had just spotted a cat. His gaze then panned over to the cold green irides of the watcher, who met them coolly.

“Shit,” the blonde unicorn breathed, then sprinted for the entrance. Surprised patrons whipped their heads about to follow his progress as he dove out the doors.

“Dammit,” Red grunted, sprinting after their target. Flash hesitated for a moment, looking at the spy still sipping his drink, then ran after Red.

Both pegasi burst out into the fog to find Gold Signature leaping onto a blue motorcycle parked in the lot. “Gold, stop!” Red called.

Gold merely gave them a brief, desperate glance before bringing the motorcycle to life with a roar and speeding off, leaving a cloud that smelled of exhaust and burnt rubber in his wake. He jumped the sidewalk and swerved onto the road amidst the blaring of horns.

"Damn!" Red shouted, diving into the driving seat of his Diplomat. Flash hopped into the passenger seat and just managed to close the door as Red peeled after their target, red lights spinning and sirens howling.

Phillip scanned the crowd, his thoughts and his innards churning violently. What had happened? Where had they gone?

Calm. Calm down. There’s a good explanation. Just stick to the plan: lead any other pursuers away from Daring and--

He didn’t hear the pony shuffle up next to him until he felt the hot breath, stinking of alcohol and halitosis, on his neck. The cold, hard touch of a gun barrel rammed into his side.

“We warned you, Finder,” a voice hissed into his ear.

Before Phillip could turn around, his vision was assaulted by a blinding flash of cyan light. He heard gasps of surprise, tried to jump away only to feel an iron vice seize his foreleg.

And then the world spun and he felt himself falling through spinning vortexes of blue stars.

“C’mon,” Daring urged Autumn quietly as they headed for the back door, passing several more dancers and staff. As they passed the bouncer’s break room, Autumn spotted the blonde pony from earlier inside and gave him a glowing smile and a wink, which he returned with a blushing smile.

Pushing open the back door, Daring breathed out a sigh of relief as she exited into the cold midmorning air. A layer of mist still hung low over the ground, the watery scent soothing to Daring’s nerves. A couple of bouncers, a male pegasus and a female griffon, stood smoking next to the door.

“Okay, let’s go!” Autumn chirped excitedly.

“Keep it casual,” Daring hissed, continuing to walk away from the building. “Don’t want to attract--”

“Hey, excuse me!” the griffon called behind her. Daring paused and turned around.

Instantly, a cloud of dust and pepper assailed her eyes like a thousand stinging hornets and she staggered with a cry, raising a hoof to shield her face from further attack. She heard the swoosh of an incoming club a split second before her head exploded with pain. Her limbs failed her and she felt the cold, hard embrace of the asphalt as she fell.

“Hey! Let go--!” she heard Autumn shriek before her cries were cut off by the sound of flesh impacting flesh, turning her screams into a coughing fit.

“Got her! What about this one?” the female barked. Daring tried to force herself to stand up, but a hoof came down like a pile driver, ramming her skull against the asphalt with a blaze of pain.

“She's that fucking journalist! Take her too!” the male replied as rough hooves grasped Daring, trapping her wings.

Blinking rapidly, Daring looked through tears to see the griffon toss a blue crystal up into the air. It hovered over them, and all of Daring’s senses were washed away by a wave of azure light.

Author's Note

Okay, full admission: I wrote this entire case almost solely for this scene. For some reason, the image of Daring being forced to dance on stage was amusing to me. I was actually stuck on what song to use for a bit: I was leaning towards "That Man" by Caro Emerald for a long time, but eventually went with "Bad Boy Good Man."

But once again, all their well-laid plans are falling apart at the seams! What happens next, reader? Tune in next week and see, same pony-day, same pony channel! And leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed!

Case Fifteen, Chapter Six: Making Fire

When Phillip landed back in reality, he had just enough time to take in the smell of motor oil, the feel of cold concrete beneath his hooves. And then he felt a sledgehammer drive into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs.

Hooves and claws grabbed at him, blows rained down on him like hail. He raised his forelegs and swung violently, managed to land a few hard blows that fractured ribs and noses, but it was an exercise in futility. He was thrown to the concrete floor and he caught a brief glimpse of a dark green hoof before it crashed down onto his head. Pain flared across his entire body, stealing the strength from his limbs and washing his vision in white.

From far away, he heard the loud crackling of a teleportation and four voices grunting as bodies hit the floor. Another chorus of blows rang out, mixed with two female voices that made Phillip’s heart sink.

“Motherfuckers!” Daring Do shouted, her bark punctuated by a howl of pain and the unmistakable sound of a hoof landing between somepony’s hind legs. Her swearing was cut off a moment later by the crack of a blow ringing across her jaw.

“Let go! You won’t get away with--!” Autumn Blaze’s taunts were soon ended as well by more thumping blows, and Phillip heard her yelping as hoofcuffs clicked over her wrists.

He felt himself being lifted up and dragged, thrown down into a chair; Autumn and Daring both grunted as they were forced down into chairs behind him. His vest, hat, and holster were all ripped from him and thrown aside, clattering on the floor. Ropes were secured over his body, biting into his skin as they secured him to the chair.

“Let’s get that earring,” a voice next to him giggled. He heard a brief struggle, then an electric tingle of magic and a cry of shock. “Holy shit! It’s Daring Do!”

“Surprise, motherfuckers,” Daring growled in reply. “Not that that fucking glamour did much.”

Phillip took in slow breaths, willing his head to stop spinning and for his stomach to cease its churning. His vision slowly returned as the pain faded to a dull throbbing. Looking around, he found that he was sitting near the back of a large warehouse, the concrete walls fighting a losing battle against mold. A few cars, all of them well-tended, sat in the middle of the warehouse. All of the windows were covered with boards, and the entire room was lit by several hanging electric lamps that cast out a harsh white glow. Gear and random detritus was scattered around the entire area: street maps of Ponyville, stacks of crates, racks of weapons, teleportation crystals, and more. His own hat and vest, along with Autumn and Daring’s costumes, had been thrown haphazardly onto a nearby table.

An odor of copper made him glance down and a small chill ran down his spine when he saw dark red stains crusted into the concrete floor, many of them concentrated around a sewer drain, the grating securely bolted into the ground. A hose rack was attached to one wall, the hose itself laying on the floor like a large, green serpent.

Glancing to his sides, Phillip saw Daring sitting behind him to his left: her glamour earring had been removed, revealing her true self. She was blinking tears and blinding dust away from her red-rimmed eyes, shaking her head and sliding her jaw left and right. Autumn Blaze was behind him to his right: along with the ropes securing her to the chair, a pair of hoofcuffs were snapped around her wrists. Stifled whimpers flittered out from her bloodied lips as she struggled feebly.

At least twenty figures stood around the warehouse, all of them glaring at them: one yellow earth pony stallion was standing in a bow-legged stance, giving Daring Do a particularly venomous glare that she returned with a grin. Directly in front of him was the green unicorn from the bar, his face mere inches from Phillip’s so that he could smell his kidnapper’s breath.

The green orbits set in the olive face glowed with hate beneath the silvery bangs. The unicorn’s horn was alight with a pale blue aura, pressing the gun beneath his dark blue coat against Phillip’s side. The breath that his captor drew between his teeth was steady, controlled, but he could feel the rage behind it.

“You don’t recognize me, do you, Finder?” the unicorn growled, his hot, heavy, hate-filled voice like tar rolling over stones.

“Should I?” Phillip asked.

“I’m Hill Crest,” the gunpony snarled. “And you sent my boss to die!”

A vague memory clicked in the back of Phillip’s mind. “You were one of Monopoly’s drongos,” he grunted. “Your case was dropped because of lack of evidence.”

“I was one of his best men,” Hill spat. “I started from nothing, but Monopoly pulled me out of the gutter. Gave me work, helped me find a home: hell, he even paid for my brother’s medical bills when he got cancer! Monopoly gave me everything! And then you and your bitch came along thinking you were better than your place. You sent Monopoly away, and all of my friends and I were left with nothing! And then eight months after, he got shanked in the back! All because of you! He deserved better, we all did! You stole everything from us!”

“I missed the part where we’re supposed to care,” Daring replied.

The unicorn hissed through his teeth as he ran over and punched her in the gut. Daring coughed and wheezed, hissing in air through her lungs.

“Leave her alone!” Autumn yelled, her chair rattling as she struggled futilely.

“You shut up!” Glade snapped, slapping her. She ceased her struggles with a yelp that turned into soft whimpers.

Glade stalked back around to stand in front of Phillip. “Now, my new boss, Bottom Line,” he spat, seizing his mane and pulling his head back to glare into his eyes. “All he cares about is the end result. And he wants you dead for sticking your nose in here. But Monopoly taught me to think long game.” He grinned viciously at Phillip, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained sickly yellow with nicotine and poor hygiene. “And I like to think of making you and everypony you love suffer.”

Cold fury blazed across Phillip’s limbs like the wind from a storm, as though his blood had been replaced with icy rain. He returned Crest’s baleful glare with one of his own, allowing the hate to wash away the fear, to roil in his gut, stirred by the steady, controlled beating of his heart. Not now: it was a waste of energy to try to fight the ropes.

He slowly exhaled, relaxing his limbs, bringing his hooves closer together. The ropes loosened their hold a bit, giving him some slack. Behind him, he vaguely heard Daring wiggling in her own bonds, already working at her escape.

“We’ll have fun with you later,” Crest spat, turning away. He called over to a hippogriff who was manning a radio set. “Where’s Gold?”

“He’s heading down Sapphire,” the hippogriff reported, raising a set of headphones to her head. “Those two cops are still after him.”

“They won’t be for long,” Crest sneered, taking the folder of information from the table. “Keep an ear on the police band.”

The three captives glared furiously at the unicorn as he carried it over to a larger table and tossed it onto the surface, scattering papers everywhere. “Okay, fellas, let’s see if there’s anything juicy in here. Might need to plug some more holes.”

The other thugs all gathered around, briefly ignoring the captives. Phillip took a breath, steadying his racing heart.

“You two okay?” Phillip whispered.

“I’m...I’m okay,” Autumn replied. She grunted as she strained against the cuffs, then let out a tired puff as she gave up.

“Daring?” Phillip whispered.

“I’m fine,” Daring replied, still wriggling around in her bonds. She let out a frustrated growl. “These guys are good with knots.” She glanced over at Autumn. “Hey, now would be a good time to go nirik on these guys’ asses.”

“I’m trying!” Autumn grunted. She growled, shaking in her bonds, then let out a defeated groan. “I...can’t feel that fire,” she muttered.

“Cuffs are blocking your magic,” Daring spat. She shifted a little in her chair, looking around, noting that the only two exits were the doors at the front and back of the warehouse. She spotted a fuse box connected to the lights secured to the wall not far from them.

Looking over at the gathering of thugs, she met eyes with a young blue earth pony, who was one of a number of the mooks glancing nervously back at them. She glared back, gritting her teeth, causing her watcher to immediately turn around.

“Boss,” the earth pony murmured. “You sure bringing both of them here is a good idea?”

“The hell do you mean by that?” Crest grunted.

“Well, I...it’s…” The younger stallion looked up nervously and swallowed. “It’s Phillip Finder. And Daring Do. You know what those two are capable of! If they--!”

“Boy,” Crest snapped, glaring daggers at the younger pony. “I have been waiting for nearly a year for my chance to get my payback on these two, eking out a living working for that small-minded dumbfuck Bottom Line, getting scraps for legwork. I am not about to fucking blow my chance to get payback when it falls into my lap like this! Here!” He shoved a machine pistol at the colt, then pointed at him and two other younger mooks. “You three, watch them!”

The three guards all looked at one another, then strode over to the prisoners and surrounded them, each one aiming their weapon at a prisoner. But despite their guns, they hovered more than a yard away from the trio, wide eyes locked unblinking on them.

Phillip glared at the younger colt with the machine pistol, noting the way his hooves were trembling as he grasped his weapon, the nervous shifting of his weight and the quick licking of his lips. The lime green eyes met his for a moment, then quickly darted down, the barrel of the gun quivering.

It suddenly hit Phillip. These wankers weren’t facing two unarmed private detectives that they currently had tied to chairs.

They were looking at the two ponies who had demolished Ponyville’s ironclad organized crime syndicate in a year. The mare who had defeated the bearer of the mystical Swords of Asocrac one on one. The stallion who had killed an impossible monster that a contingent of Equestria’s military elite and both Princesses had failed to defeat.

They were facing two ponies who did the impossible.

“D-don’t try anything!” a unicorn mare barked at Daring, keeping her submachine gun trained on Daring’s face. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Just...just s-sit there and don’t move!”

Daring grinned back at her. The mare gulped and took a half step back.

Lowering her head, Daring shifted in her seat, grunting as she felt the cache shifting inside her. She was confident she could get it out and open it, maybe even pass a razor blade to Phil so he could cut himself out and a pick to free Autumn.

But she had to be sure that her guards wouldn’t be looking at her.

“Autumn,” she whispered, barely moving her lips. “Autumn!”

Autumn flicked her ear towards her.

“Sing,” Daring hissed.

Autumn blinked, then grinned in understanding. She cleared her throat and sat up in her chair, then started belting out a song.

“This is the song that never ends! It just goes on and on, my friends! Some ponies started singing it not knowing what it was!”

The thugs all looked up and stared at Autumn Blaze, who continued to sing loudly, her voice echoing around the concrete room.

“Shut her up!” Crest shouted.

The sentries all glanced at one another, silently debating which of them would be the one to get closer to the monster, who was singing louder and louder with every repetition.

“Oh, for--here!” Crest shouted, seizing a roll of duct tape from a table and stalking over. He ripped off a piece tape and leaned down to place it over Autumn’s mouth. A moment later, he yelled in pain as Autumn bit him.

The kirin started rocking her chair back and forth, spitting and growling and kicking at her captors, her cuffs rattling as she fought against them. A torrent of curses and threats spilled from her mouth, damning her captors to every cruel fate under the sun and more. More of the thugs crowded around her to try to get her under control.

The advantage of knowing where ponies were looking was knowing where they weren’t looking. With a grunt, Daring pushed the cigar tube out, grimacing as her hooves slipped against the lube and condom. She unscrewed the tube, keeping her movements as small as possible. The top of the tube fell off and she hid it beneath her tail.

A razor blade bit into her hooves. She grinned as she passed it into Phillip’s hooves, then took another razor blade and began to cut into the ropes binding her wrists. Two other items fell out of the tube into her hooves, and she quickly passed them into her wing, tucking them between her feathers.

“Once I get out, I’m gonna--!” Autumn’s threats were cut off when Crest finally managed to slap a strip of tape over her mouth. The unicorn grinned as he added two more strips of tape, turning Autumn’s continued curses into muffled grunts.

“Think we’ll have some fun with you first,” Crest leered, running a hoof through Autumn’s burnt orange mane. “Be fun to hear that voice of yours screaming for us.”

Autumn growled at him, but her tail trembled a little, the cuffs rattling as she shook. Daring and Phillip both glared at the unicorn as he laughed, rage festering in their veins as they continued quietly cutting at their bonds.

“Hey, boss!” the hippogriff manning the radio shouted. “Bentley’s got eyes on Gold and the two detectives!”

A dozen mooks excitedly gathered around the radio to listen. “We got backup nearby?” Crest asked.

“Yeah, incoming now,” the hippogriff confirmed, turning up the volume and unplugging his headphones.

“Team Charlie, pulling in,” a voice said over the radio, the speaker barely audible over the roaring of an engine.

Another voice crackled over a different radio frequency. A familiar voice. “This is Bishop Eight, ten-eighty, northbound on Sapphire.”

A vision of Flash’s bloodied corpse flashed before Phillip’s eyes, his stomach twisting at the remembered scent of warm blood and thick, black phlegm. He shook his head to try to force the hallucination away, but the dead Flash’s face thrust itself before him, empty eyeholes dripping that noxious slime, mouth forever open in a shriek.

It’s your fault, Liebling, the dead thing cooed in his ear.

“No!” he gasped out, barely choking it back from a scream. The young unicorn stepped back a pace, the shaking of his weapon becoming more pronounced at his outcry. Phillip sucked in breaths, staring at the concrete floor, ordering his pounding heart to slow.

It’s not happening. It’s not going to happen. He’ll be fine. Focus on here and now.

“Phil?” Daring whispered. “Are you okay?”

Phillip took in a breath, held it for one second, then released it slowly. He concentrated on the sounds and smells and touches all around him: Autumn’s muffled grunts and the rattling of her cuffs, the barely audible hissing of Daring’s ropes as she parted them. The coarse cord biting into his hooves. The varying, competing scents of syrupy motor oil, sharp gunpowder, and sickly sweet illicit drugs. The real world recentered itself around him and the vision faded away.

Phillip nodded grimly, swallowing as he continued sawing at the ropes with the smooth blade hidden in his grasp, his movements slow but smoothed out by the exercise that Daring had insisted upon.

Flash and Red would be all right. Right now, he needed to focus on getting himself, Daring, and Autumn out alive. Which meant taking on a dozen guns in a packed area.

Those seemed like good odds.

“This is Bishop Eight, ten-eighty, northbound on Sapphire,” Flash reported into the radio, the siren wailing as they screeched up the wide paved road, flanked on both sides by baroque storefronts and high-end condos. “Subject is a priority witness, fleeing on a blue motorcycle. Need roadblocks in place for nonlethal stop: spike traps, nets, whatever it takes. We need this guy alive!”

“Copy, Bishop Eight, backup is seventy-six,” Dispatch replied as Gold screeched through a stoplight.

“Hang on!” Red braked hard, his vehicle skidding beneath his hooves as he narrowly dodged the halted traffic, sliding past a polished black Phantom close enough to see the unicorn driver’s shocked blue eyes.

“There he goes!” Flash shouted, pointing at their target as he hopped up onto the sidewalk, pedestrians diving out of the way as Gold screeched through a corner.

“Fuck’s sake, man, we’re the good guys!” Red growled to himself, blaring his horn to order everyone out of the way as he screeched around the corner.

Gold was heading up Topaz now, weaving around a slower taxi that honked irritably at him even as it pulled over to the side to allow the officers to pass. As Red closed in, his eyes tracked a blue-white Canter City and Plain heading up the other lane, declining to pull aside for the emergency sirens.

And coming on way too fast.

“Shit!” Red gasped as the vehicle suddenly swerved like a shark lunging at a passing minnow, reinforced bumper aimed at Gold’s motorcycle. Gold only dodged the attack with a quick burst of speed, his bike vacillating over the center lane like a drunkard as he fought for balance, just barely missing an oncoming truck. The City and Plain pulled back into his lane to dodge Red and Flash, then turned sharply, its rear wheels throwing up smoke as they swung around like a tail. With a dragon-like roar, it lunged forward.

With a chorus of screeching engines, two more cars with tinted windows swerved around the corner. The trio of cars closed in on them like predatory birds swooping down on their prey, headlights like eyes shining with hate.

“Oh, shit,” Flash muttered, grasping for the radio again. “Bishop Eight, ten-thirty-three, officers under attack!”

“Copy thirty-three. All officers, ten-thirty-three, vehicle pursuit. Backup needed eastbound on Ruby and Doubloon…”

Gritting his teeth, Red tuned the dispatcher out as he swerved around a slow-moving truck. The pursuers stayed on them like wolves chasing a lamed moose.

“Flash, get the shotgun!” Red ordered, glaring at Gold Signature. The stallion on the blue motorcycle, his tie flapping behind him in the wind, was pushing ninety miles an hour, weaving around cars and other obstacles.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Flash mumbled, squirming out of his seat. He started to climb around into the back, reaching over the back seats into the trunk. His hoof met the cold metal of the Rocky Mountain twelve-gauge and he tugged it up, counting the six shells tucked into the holder on the side of the stock and pushing back the slide to check the chamber. The sight of a bright red shell nestled within elicited a sigh of relief.

A machine gun roared out, the sound accompanied a hammering like the car was being pelted by hail. A glance in the side mirror revealed to Red that one of the cars had caught up with them; a pony in a black coat and a ski mask was leaning out the passenger door, fire spitting from the Trotson in his hooves. Bullets smacked against the chassis and the bulletproof windows, splintering the reinforced glass mere inches from Flash’s face. Flash gulped, trying not to think about how a mere half-inch of glass was all that had saved him from death.

“Fucker,” Red grunted, jerking the wheel to the left, flinging a yelping Flash about inside the car. The enemy car braked and Red missed him by inches.

Another car pulled up on the right, passing Red before he could react. “Dammit!” Red snarled, pushing the accelerator to the floor in pursuit.

Grunting, Flash wriggled back into the passenger seat, rolling down the window and leaning out the door. From beneath his coat came a Filly M1912, his hoof slipping easily into the side-mounted sleeve. Breathing deep, he centered the iron sights over the enemy’s rear left wheel. “Keep it steady!” he called to Red.

“I’m trying!” Red grunted, jerking the wheel hard to cut off the other car.

The wheel lined up before Flash’s sights. Smooth exhale, squeeze the trigger, just like he’d been trained. The gun kicked in Flash’s hoof with a sharp flash of flame and smoke. The wheel exploded in a shower of rubber and shrapnel and sparks began flying from the rim. The vehicle skidded across the lane, losing much of its momentum.

The Diplomat thundered as Red pulled ahead, pulling up next to the black enemy car. With a grunt, he jerked the wheel hard to the right, striking the car in the left rear wheel. The car spun out, smoke spewing from its wheels and the tires screaming as the driver fought for control, then flipped over and landed on its side with a great crash.

“Ha!” Red shouted, following Gold around a corner with a screeching of tires.

Turning around, Flash spotted the other vehicles banking around to chase them. Bringing the shotgun up to his shoulder, he centered the bead over the lead car, a dark green two-door.

“Shit, hang on! Hill!” Red shouted.

The ground suddenly left them, gravity pulling them in an arc through the air. Knocked off balance, Flash sent a round of buckshot into the air with a thunderous boom. The street met them again with a crash that made both stallions grunt as they were thrown around in the vehicle like dice in a dealer’s cup. The two pursuing cars crested the incline behind them, then crashed down onto the asphalt, briefly skidding around before regaining control, but Red was pulling further away with every moment.

“Bishop Eight, this is Rook Two, coming in on your ten o’clock,” the radio declared. Looking ahead, Red spotted Gold Signature nearing the bottom of the steep hill they were all sliding down, his bike wobbling as he fought for control. From the left intersection up ahead, a cruiser sped in like the cavalry charging in to save the day, cars pulling over at the sight and sound of its spinning lights and wailing siren.

Gold’s head snapped to the cruiser and he sharply banked to the right, just barely managing to avoid a truck that blared its horn irately at him. The unicorn screamed as the bike swerved beneath him, the tires screeching as he fought with the handlebars.

The fight proved futile. The motorcycle slid out from beneath him, and vehicle and rider skidded across the street, narrowly missing an oncoming van. Gold Signature hit the sidewalk and bounced into an empty lot, crashing to a halt next to an abandoned green dumpster. He lay unmoving, blood staining his blonde-dyed mane.

“Shit, shit!” Red gasped, wrestling with the wheel as he forced the Diplomat around the corner, the brakes screeching in protest. He fumbled for the radio and brought it to his mouth as he pulled up next to Gold’s still form. “Dispatch, ten-fifty-two, Wellspring and--!”

A thunderous crash interrupted him. Red’s gaze went up into the mirror and his jaw dropped in horror.

The City and Plain had rammed into the cruiser, which was now spinning across the street like a top, glass shards and debris flying everywhere. The cruiser, its siren still howling, smashed into an oncoming truck. Both vehicles were rocked by the thunderous impact, the truck’s horn blaring out like a pained animal howling.

The other two-door was bearing down on them, engine roaring as if in triumph.

“Damn it, Red!” Flash grunted, opening the passenger door and diving across the hot engine hood, tucking behind the vehicle’s engine block. A salvo of machine-gun fire chased him into cover, bullets clattering as they struck the Diplomat.

“Fuck!” Red shouted, jumping out of the driver’s door and sliding next to Flash even as the dispatcher called for him to respond, drawing his Filly M1912. Flash’s hooves trembled as he loaded two more shells into the chamber, and he sucked in a breath as he racked in a round. Both stallions glanced down at Gold Signature, still sprawled across the ground next to the dumpster; he groaned and his eyelids flickered feebly, one hoof twitching as he tried to wake up.

The sound of brakes squealing and car doors slamming open made both detectives’ hearts skip a beat. The two of them glanced at each other, reading the same thoughts in each other’s wide sclera. Flash licked his dry lips, then nodded. Red gritted his teeth and nodded back.

As one, they popped up from behind the car and opened fire, their weapons roaring in defiance. One thug, then another fell with grunts of pain, their machine pistols spitting hot lead into the air, but the remaining three took cover behind their own vehicles.

Flash recognized the dust-colored donkey with a spiky, sand-colored mane crouching behind the engine block of the City and Plain. “Eagle Trust paying you now, Bentley?” he called, sweeping the bead of his shotgun over the parked cars, ready to snap it to any who dared put their heads out.

“My boss is the same as it always is,” Bentley Browndust called back. “Whoever’s paying!”

His shout was punctuated by the clattering of a Trotson, bullets hammering against the Diplomat’s reinforced chassis. Flash and Red were both forced to stay behind the cover of the vehicle as Bentley continued firing in blind bursts.

The clattering of hooves alerted the detectives: Bentley’s three friends were closing in on them, moving around the cars.

Red poked his head up, spotting a masked figure sneering at him over the hood of the City and Plain, but drew a salvo of .45 rounds that forced him back behind cover. “I got no shot!” he reported. “Flash, we need a plan!”

Swearing with every beat of his frantic heart, Flash darted his head around, looking for any detail that might get them out. A glimmer caught his eye: he looked down to see the sun reflecting off of the mirror that had snapped off of Gold’s motorcycle.

Hooves pounded on the asphalt. “Flash, they’re coming from both sides!” Red reported, poking his head up and immediately drawing a burst of buckshot.

An idea flashed through his mind. Diving for the wreckage, he snatched up the mirror by the remnants of its handle and held it up, tilting it up so that it caught the sunlight. A blaze of light burst from his hoof, as if he was holding fire.

Yelps of pain resounded and the covering fire ceased. Flash and Red both burst from their cover, sights snapping up to targets.

Red hit the trigger of his pistol twice: the masked gangster that had been charging towards him jerked twice, the bullets slamming into his torso, then dropped like a stone when Red’s final shot drilled through his cranium. Two roars from the twelve-gauge announced the end of the other two attackers.

“Move up!” Red called, rounding the car and proceeding towards the car where the donkey was cowering. Flash advanced from around the other side of the Diplomat, the shotgun held up before him.

“Two can play at that game!” Bentley shouted. There was a metallic click, then a silver sphere spun into the air above the parked car.

Flash just barely had enough time to register the stun grenade and turn his head away before it detonated with a burst of thunder and light. Flash felt like the air had solidified, ramming down on him like a hammer: his eardrums felt like they had burst, his head like a cracked egg. His vision was washed out by a sea of white; when the colors slowly bled back into his view, he realized that he was laying on his side, cheek against the hot asphalt.

A blurry brown apparition appeared, slowly walking towards him. Flash identified the submachine gun in Bentley’s hoof, an ugly black construction that promised death. He tried to get up, but his limbs felt like they were encased in lead, feebly responding to his urgent commands; he felt air rushing out of his mouth as he tried to form words, but couldn’t hear anything save for a deafening ringing behind his eardrums.

Flash fumbled for the holster on his hip, but his pistol may as well have been a mile away; his hoof slipped against the cold metal, struggling to find the strap and draw the weapon as a roaring grew in his ears. Bentley smiled as he closed in, lowering the weapon to train his sights on Flash’s face…

And then a dark blue shape roared in out of nowhere like a guided missile. Bentley saw it coming too late: the cruiser’s warped bumper slammed into him like a giant hammer, sending him flying off to the side so quickly that Flash was left frozen in disbelief, blinking numbly at the spot where his foe had been standing.

The driver’s side door, miserably hanging half out of its frame, opened and a familiar blonde thestral stepped out, blood dripping from her nostrils as she hustled over to cover the fallen gangsters with her revolver.

“You okay, Sentry?” Prowl called as Bumblebee hopped out of the car, grinning through the bruises on his face.

“I’m fine,” Flash called, standing up slowly and drawing his pistol. His eyes finally spotted Bentley laying in a crumpled heap next to the Diplomat, groaning faintly.

“Still a rookie, eh?” Bumblebee called as he kicked Bentley’s gun away from him and started to cuff him.

“At least I can count on you guys to save my ass,” Flash grinned as Prowl helped him back up. “The other driver okay?”

“He’s fine,” Prowl nodded. “He’s the one who managed to wake us up in time.”

Red let out a long breath, then bent over Gold Signature. “Hey, you still with us?”

The blonde unicorn groaned and his eyelids flickered open. His irides focused upon Red and he tried scrabbling to get up, his limbs flopping around like a puppet operated by an inept controller.

“Hey, easy,” Red said, laying a hoof on his shoulder. “We’re the good guys.” He scoffed and gave him a toothy, ironic smile. “Wish you could’ve let us tell you that sooner. You’re done running, Mister Signature.”

“What’s going on over there?” Hill Crest demanded, leaning over the hippogriff’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” the radio operator replied, twiddling the dials to change channels. “The police channel is quiet, but…”

Hill hissed out a curse. “If they take Gold into custody, we’re all fucked! We gotta get out there and try to intercept them! Boys, get fueled up!” he ordered a cluster of his henchponies, who immediately sprinted over to some of the cars parked in the warehouse, snatching up keys and tossing weapons into the backseats. “Where exactly are they?” Hill demanded.

Daring glanced about surreptitiously, noting that amidst the bustle, few of the gangsters were actually paying attention to them; even the sentries were watching the chaos instead of them, guns lowering slightly.

She flexed her hooves in her bonds; the ropes cracked quietly, ready to break if she pulled hard enough. She turned her head just enough to catch Phillip’s eyes out of the corner of her gaze. He nodded half an inch in confirmation.

Just one last thing left. Fumbling her hooves a bit, she switched from the razor blade to the cuff key. Moving slowly to avoid catching unnecessary attention, she shifted her hooves towards Autumn’s cuffed forelimbs, the key scratching at the metal. Sensing what she was doing, Autumn brought her hooves closer, allowing Daring to carefully slide the key into the keyhole.

“Autumn,” Daring hissed, fumbling the key about in the keyhole, feeling it press against the spring. “Need you to shield us for a couple seconds.”

“What? Shut up!” the mare guarding Daring shouted, snapping her machine pistol up at her face, but Autumn had already flicked her ear in acknowledgment.

“Wait, hang on!” the hippogriff at the radio called. “Boss is on the line.”

The chaos around them halted, every head turning towards the radio. Hill Crest stalked over to the radio table and snatched the headphones and microphone up for himself, listening for a moment.

“That’s bullshit!” Crest shouted, slamming the table with his hoof. “If he gets in--!”

He paused, face churning in silent fury as he listened. Murmurs began to rise amidst the other thugs, worry and concern plastered on their countenances.

Daring frowned as she continued to fumble with the cuff keys. This would be easier if I could see what I was doing, she groused to herself, twisting the key to the left, then the right.

“Okay, fine,” Crest said. “But what about--?”

There was another long beat of silence, then he grinned. “You got it.” Taking off the headset, he tossed it onto the table as he turned towards Phillip, drawing his Steel and Eastson from his shoulder holster. He stalked towards the captives, his grin widening with every step he took.

“Shit,” Daring muttered, pressing the key harder into the lock. Almost--

The cuffs snapped open and as fast as a switch had been thrown, heat seared across the room with a great whooshing of flame, as though the entire warehouse had been turned into an enormous furnace. The cream-colored mare was replaced by a creature adorned in black, purple, and red flames that ate at her blackened flesh, burning away the ropes and melting the tape over her mouth. Her solid white eyes were framed by more of the same flames, blazing with hate; her fanged mouth was opened wide in a howl of rage, revealing a black hole like a gate into Tartarus. Every gangster in the warehouse flinched away from the beast and her scalding heat, screams of terror mixing with her roar.

Snarling, Autumn ran in a circle around Phillip and Daring, conjuring a wall of dark flames that shielded them from any interference. Coughing as the heat sapped away the air, Daring and Phillip snapped the bonds around their wrists and undid the rest of their ropes.

As soon as her wings were free, Daring pounced through the flames that were already fading away, seizing the flinching unicorn mare who had been guarding her. Her elbow cracked across the gangster’s face, drawing a yelp of surprise as Daring wrenched her weapon from her hooves. With the same momentum, Daring snapped her right hind leg out in a roundhouse, grinning as she felt and heard the blow crack through the knee cartilage. The mare toppled like a tree fallen by a great ax blow, howling in agony.

The sound of blows landing, the cracking of breaking limbs, and the thump of a body hitting the concrete floor announced that Phillip had armed himself as well. Both detectives turned and opened fire, gunshots echoing through the enclosed space. Bullets struck the legs of the other two sentries, sending them to the floor. Another burst of fire from Daring’s weapon destroyed the radio; the hippogriff radio operator tumbled to the floor with a shriek, flinging her forelegs up to try to block the cascade of sparks that burst from the apparatus like fireworks.

Daring snapped her wing out: the two smoke bombs that she’d concealed within her feathers flew through the air and struck the walls with cracks of light and thunder, spreading smoke everywhere and adding to the confusion and terror. The two detectives leaped into the fray, driving their closest foes into the floor with efficient blows.

The nirik had turned into a streak of fury, pinballing around the warehouse from one thug to another, leaving smaller trails of fire and broken bodies in her wake.

“This is for Gold!” she snarled in a distorted voice, ramming her head into one stallion and sending him flying back into the wall with a great crash. “And this is for Quick Step!” she shouted, bucking a thestral pony and sending him crashing into a table. “And this is because I just found out I like hurting bad guys!” Autumn roared, pouncing on a larger earth pony, who screamed like a little filly and covered his head with his forelegs as fiery hooves pounded on him like a jackhammer.

“Should we help her?” Daring asked Phillip, cracking the butt of her stolen machine pistol against the jaw of another gunpony.

Phillip drove one wanker’s head through the window of a parked car with a great smashing. “I think she can handle herself,” he commented, flinging a dropped pistol at a mare that was peeking over the hood of the vehicle and striking her between the eyes.

The fight was over in moments, and Phillip, Daring, and Autumn were the only ones left standing in the warehouse, the enchanted flames still dancing along the floor and walls, casting weird shadows and heat everywhere.

“Is that all of them?!” the nirik snarled, stalking across the room, glowing eyes darting around for any sign of movement.

“I think so,” Daring said placidly, raising a hoof. “I think you can turn the heat off now.”

The flames dissipated like the burners on a stove being turned off, oxygen seeping back into the room as the heat retreated. Autumn breathed deep as the flames about her body faded, revealing her normal kirin self, her mane damp with sweat and in complete disarray, smoke still rising from her unburnt coat.

“Whew...that was fun,” she panted. “But good thing it’s over. I’m out of fuel.” Autumn raised a hoof and watched as a small sliver of the nirik fire slowly fizzled out. “Nirik fire burns through my magic pretty fast. Heh, no pun intended.”

Phillip turned in place as he trotted over to where his vest was waiting, counting the heads of the unconscious or groaning abductors around them. He only came up with eleven ponies.

“Where’s Hill Crest?” he asked.

“Here!”

Autumn had no time to react before the stallion jumped out from behind the car he’d hidden behind, only being able to yelp as his foreleg locked around her neck and cold steel rammed into her temple. A sledgehammer struck the back of her leg, and she cried out as her knee cracked against the concrete floor.

“Drop the guns!” Hill ordered Phil and Daring, glaring back at the barrels of their own weapons.

Phillip and Daring exchanged glances, then slowly began to lower the pistols.

“That’s right, drop ‘em,” Hill Crest sneered. “I’m not giving this up for--”

He had just enough time to see the smirk on Phillip’s face before the stallion pulled the trigger, his round striking the target perfectly. The fuse box on the wall burst in a shower of sparks as the lights flickered and went out, plunging the warehouse into darkness.

For a moment, there was silence, then a roar of pain sounded as Autumn sank her teeth into her abductor’s foreleg. Hill Crest instinctively released her, lighting up his horn just in time to see the kirin ducking behind a car.

He did not see the golden streak racing towards him until it was too late, nor did the whistling sound register in his ears until a stinging blow knocked the gun from his hoof, sending the revolver skittering across the concrete.

Daring rammed into his chest a moment later like a giant sledgehammer, crushing him against the brick wall. His cry was silenced when her skull whipped into his chin with an impact like a bowling ball. For a half-second, rage and denial burned in his mind. And then all went black.

“Fucker,” Daring snarled at the slumped form before her. “You okay, Autumn?” she called to the kirin crouching behind the car.

“I’m good,” Autumn grinned nervously, trembling a bit as she stood, lighting up her horn to cast the room in a pale blue light. Taking a breath to recollect herself, Autumn hurried over to the table that was still covered with Gold’s notes. She gathered them up, her smile growing wider and wider as she studied the financial reports, the notes, and photographs contained within, proof of Eagle Trust's illicit activities.

“Yes, yes, yes!” the kirin cheered, pirouetting around in a circle. “Busted!” she sang tauntingly. “I don’t wanna put the hurt on you, but you better believe me when I tell you that I finally got the dirt on you!”

Slipping on his vest and trilby, Phillip trotted over to the garage door and hit the button. The door opened with a great rattling, allowing the mist-filtered sun to stream through, warming the dark warehouse with its light. “Autumn, find a phonebooth,” he stated as he and Daring grabbed some loose rope and started to bind the unconscious gangsters.

“You bet!” Autumn shouted, gathering up her evidence and sprinting outside. “Next stop, Bottom Line in prison!”

Author's Note

Time to feel the heat! Especially in these colder days to come.

Happy Halloween, dear readers, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Sixteen, Prologue: Hidden Beneath

The setting sun sparkled over the azure waters of the Maresippi River, golden sparkles dancing over the waves that lapped against the sandy beach.

Beneath the water, the sunlight played amidst the swaying reeds that grew from the sloping sands, fish darting in and out of the green leaves in a prismatic display of colors.

A green earth pony clad in a black neoprene wetsuit glided through the water, hovering just beneath the surface, studying the world around him through a set of goggles. Taking a breath through the snorkel in his mouth, he dove down to the riverbed, sending fish scattering before him as he studied the sands beneath him for treasures amidst the shells, rocks, and discarded trash.

“Sandbar, over here!” a voice called, carrying impossibly clearly through the water.

Turning, the earth pony spotted a pink seapony waving enthusiastically at him with a flipper, her aqua fins waving about in the currents, a carved pearl necklace bouncing against her chest. Twisting about, Sandbar swam over to her, moving as fluidly as any fish.

“Look what I found!” the seapony cried, thrusting a shining white shell into his hooves, the sun illuminating the smooth white surface accented by streaks of silver. Sandbar turned the shell over in his grasp, admiring the perfect natural craft.

“Silverstream, there’s more over here!” a green seapony called, waving enthusiastically from a slope in the bank. The pink seapony darted back over to him, gasping in delight.

Briefly floating back to the surface to take another breath, Sandbar descended again, parting the seaweed aside to reveal a cluster of the shells, cluttered among the sands.

“Oooh, I should send some to cousin Skystar!” Silverstream squealed, gathering up a bunch of the shells.

Sandbar grinned and began to prowl the riverbed for other treasures. He parted the reeds, sending a school of minnows scattering in panic, then poked thoughtfully around the lichen-coated ribs of a rowboat’s fossil that jutted out of the sand but found nothing of interest.

A blaze of bright color caught his attention. There, amidst the forest of waving seaweed was a bouquet of water canna with long thin verdant stems, the vase-like petals atop colored in twisting crimson and golden colors, like miniature underwater flames.

Sandbar glanced over at the two seaponies, watching as both mares currently studied a sunken jewelry box, trying to figure out how to open it. He hesitated for a few moments, then shook his head and pushed himself forward. He gently took one of the flowers by the stem and plucked it from the sand, admiring the way the sunlight filtering through the water made the petals glow. Kicking to the surface, he floated beneath the top of the Maresippi, taking deep breaths through his snorkel as he watched the green seapony, admiring the way she flapped her tail to keep up with her friend, the way her pink fins swayed in the underwater currents like waves, the excited gleam in her cyan eyes.

Sandbar tucked the flower into a pocket on his wetsuit. This would probably go better if he could speak.

The green seapony looked up from her task of trying to open the box, frowning in thought. “Guys, sorry, but I think I’d best get going,” she said regretfully. “Mom will be worried.”

“Aww, do you have to?” Silverstream whined. Sandbar felt his heart sinking into his chest as he himself sank back beneath the surface.

“You know how my mom is,” the green seapony shrugged regretfully. “Let’s get back to the dock.”

The trio swam sullenly against the current, reaching a set of wooden pillars that supported an old, crumbling dock. Sandbar swam up the bank and breached the surface to see that the litter-strewn beach in the shadow of the dock was devoid of any other creatures.

“All clear,” he called back to the mares as they breached the surface.

Silverstream touched the pearl around her neck and golden light swirled around her body. A moment later, when the light faded, the seapony had been replaced by a hippogriff, shaking water out of her blue mane as she climbed out of the water.

The other mare poked her head out of the water, checked around to make sure that they were alone once more, then closed her eyes. A moment later, her body was enveloped in a spiral of blue flame that cleaved through the water. When the fires faded, the seapony’s fins were replaced with a short pink mane and tail, her tail had separated into two hind legs, the image of a ladybug had appeared on both of her flanks, and feathered wings had sprouted from her sides, beating the air to lift her up above the river.

Silverstream cleared her throat sharply, giving Sandbar a meaningful look. Sandbar blinked and tilted his head in confusion, then gasped, his mouth hanging open.

“What?” the pegasus asked, fixing him with a querying look.

Sandbar opened and closed his mouth a few times like a beached fish, then gulped. “Uh...Ocellus, you sure you don’t want to dance with Silverstream and the others tomorrow?” he asked through a forced grin. Next to him, he heard a light smack as Silverstream’s claw met her face.

“I told you, I don’t like dancing in front of others,” Ocellus replied, shaking water out of her coat. “And besides, I…” She frowned and shifted in midair, an odd chirping noise escaping her throat.

“Ocellus, you’re a great dancer!” Silverstream protested, flapping up to her and placing a claw on her shoulder. “And I’m sure no one will care if you’re a changeling! We don’t!”

“And your mom’s gonna be dancing with the others!” Sandbar added. "I bet that you two would make a lot of ponies happy; think of all the love that you could get from that!"

Ocellus made a low moan of uncertainty. “I-I know...and I’m glad that she’s doing something besides…” She coughed and cleared her throat, her cheeks coloring. “You know...but not everypony’s gonna be as open-minded as you two.”

“I mean, I kinda get it,” Silverstream confessed. “When Sandbar and I accidentally walked in on you while you were trying out other manestyles in your room, it was kinda weird seeing you on fire, and just when I was thinking I’d have to get a bucket of water, you came out looking like a bug crossed with a pony, and then you saw us and you were like ‘Aaaah!’ and we were like ‘Aaaah!’ and then you--”

“I think she gets it, Silver,” Sandbar interrupted with a chuckle.

Ocellus gave a slightly nervous chuckle and gently brushed off Silverstream’s talon. “I’m glad that I can trust you two…” She frowned. “But I still remember Mom and I having to hide from everyone, running from city to city.” She shook her head. “I’m just not ready. Now, I’m sorry, but I really do have to go now. Say hi to Lighthoof and Shimmy for me.”

“Bye, Ocellus,” Silverstream waved as Ocellus flew out from beneath the dock and shot up into the air, heading north.

“Ocel--” Sandbar started to say, but the mare was gone before he could form the word. He sighed despondently.

Silverstream shook her head at him, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “You really need to say it someday, dude,” she scolded.

“I know, I know!" Sandbar grimaced. "I keep trying, but every time, my tongue gets all tied up and I can't say anything!" He sighed. "Sucks how the popular pony in high school who's friends with everypony can't just say that he likes a girl."

"From what I hear, that's pretty normal with boys," Silverstream giggled. Sandbar sighed and hung his head.

“Hey, there’s always tomorrow,” Silverstream replied. “Need a lift back home?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Sandbar nodded, allowing Silverstream to pick him up beneath the forelegs and carry him northward, carrying him on the warm zephyrs that were lifted up by the setting sun.

“Thanks, Tart,” the pegasus grinned, placing the bag in her saddlebags. “I can always count on you for my sugar dose!”

“Any time,” Sweet Tart replied, waving goodbye to her customer from the other side of her humble bakery stand. As she watched Clear Skies fly off, the baker that everypony thought was merely a blue unicorn with a fluffy white and orange mane and the cutie mark of a steaming pie took in a deep breath, inhaling not just the scents of the baked treats displayed on her colorful stand, but also the soft, tangy odors of Clear Skies’ love: her love for the treats that she always bought here, for her brother Open, for her job, for flying. Every love a different flavor, all of them warm and soothing, like a bowl of soup on a cold morning that she imbibed happily.

As soon as her customer was out of sight, Sweet Tart allowed the smile to drop off her face and started putting her wares into the totes behind the stand. Just like selling baked goods at a stand didn’t give her much for bits, eating up the scraps of love that she got from customers just barely got her enough to get by. The occasional one-night stand gave her a quick boost: she licked her lips as she thought of later tonight, when she’d get some time alone with Smokey Coat, the cute stallion from the grocer’s. The taste of his crush on her was a particularly deep, sweet flavor; she bet that having some of his lust would be outright ambrosial.

And of course, having some extra love would be helpful for her mission: who knows how long she’d have to keep his form...but if it worked, she’d be set in bits for years, and love would come after that.

Sweet Tart finished packing the baked goods into the backseat of the battered yellow pickup truck parked on the corner, then folded up her stand and carefully maneuvered it into the bed. Grunting, she began strapping the stand into the bed.

The hot, biting malodor of rage alerted her to a new presence a moment before she heard the rapid hoofsteps. Turning, Sweet Tart spotted three ponies stalking towards her, their bodies covered by dark sweatshirts with the hoods up. Even without seeing their eyes, she could feel the hate burning from their gazes.

Shit. Reflexes took over and already Sweet Tart was turning to run, planning to duck into the alley up ahead, swap her horn for a pair of wings, and dart away before her attackers had a chance to catch up.

She didn’t get a chance. A low buzz sounded through the air like an angered hornet’s nest, and then pain spread across Sweet Tart’s entire body. Her muscles seized up, her jaw clenching so tight that she couldn’t scream, and she fell to the hot, hard asphalt, twitching violently.

The hooded ponies stood over her, glaring down at her with hooded eyes that glowed with contempt. “Changeling scum,” one of them snarled in a raspy voice, the unicorn’s face lit purple by the light of his horn.

Sweet Tart drew in a breath, trying to scream, to fight back, but a hoof crashed down onto her head and all went black.

Author's Note

It's finally time to introduce these three!

This is a story I've wanted to do for a while, but could never quite fit it in. Now I have that chance! I hope that you are you looking forward to it, reader!

Case Sixteen, Chapter One: Two Plans, Two Bodies

“We’ve got a new act for you today, folks!” Rara announced, beaming at the morning crowd from the stage of the Apple Pie in Your Eye. “These ladies are all local talent, and we’ve been looking forward to introducing them to you ever since they auditioned for us last week!”

She stepped aside and gestured to the drawn curtains behind her. “Now, please join me in welcoming to the stage, performing their rendition of St. Megan's Ballroom...The New Flappers!”

The crowd applauded and the curtains drew aside to reveal a charcoal gray mare with raven black hair standing next to a cello, the wooden instrument gleaming with polish. Next to her was a white unicorn with a cropped mane of blue hair and purple sunglasses, grinning from over a small keyboard set upon a black stand, a drum set arranged around her. Both mares were dressed in short-sleeved white shirts with bowties.

In front of them, standing before a microphone, was a tall, ivory white unicorn adorned in a frilled short black cocktail dress, fishnets accentuating her hind legs. Her arctic blue hair was done in a bob cut and accented with a tall white peacock feather, and upon her breast, she wore a brooch with her cutie mark: a blue rose.

“Welcome to St. Megan’s Ballroom!” Blue Rose declared into the microphone with a laugh as Octavia Melody began to strum the cello, the opening of the song accompanied by Vinyl Scratch manipulating her percussion set. At her cue, a trio of mares danced in from offstage: a pink hippogriff with pale blue hair and two earth ponies, one orange and one blue, all of them dressed in similar attire to Blue Rose. They pranced into position with well-practiced synchronization, smiling at the audience over the feather fans that they waved before their faces.

“Daba down at St. Megan’s Dogtown, it was almost after dark…” Blue Rose began to sing, bobbing her head to the song as her melody was carried over the room.

“It’s called a what?” Flash Sentry asked from a table near the back of the room.

“A clavioline,” Twilight repeated, nodding at the keyboard that Vinyl was playing. “One of the latest electronic keyboard instruments. I did some research on it when Applejack told us about Vinyl’s instruments.” She smiled in reminiscence, staring at the keyboard that Vinyl was expertly manipulating, simultaneously striking the drums with the drumsticks she held in her blue aura. “It’s amazing how far technology has come! I mean, can you imagine the potential for electronic devices in the future? Electric typewriters, more portable radios, maybe even the ability to send pictures and letters via electronics!”

“Isn’t that what Spike’s for?” Flash asked in amusement.

“Not everypony has a dragon little brother who knows how to perform a translocation spell with his enchanted fire that he got when he was birthed in a magical overload,” Twilight pointed out.

“Speaking of him,” Flash added. “What do you think he and Smolder are up to about now?”

“Probably stuffing their faces at Pony Joe’s,” Twilight giggled. “If you ever want to go up to Canterlot with me, I’m sure you’d love his donuts.”

Flash chuckled, taking a slow sip of his root beer as he watched the New Flappers performing. Already a few couples, including Rara and Applejack, were taking to the dance floor as Blue Rose swung into the bridge:

“That gal was shakin’ her fan, shakin’ her fan,
while doing the tap dance
Movin’ her hooves, tail in the air,
Oh-oh, what a crazy mare!”

Flash glanced over at Twilight, who was currently watching Big Mac working his magic from behind the bar, and licked his lips. Just ask her, you big chicken! he berated himself.

“Uh, Twilight…” he stammered out, prompting the mare to turn towards him, a question in her shimmering purple eyes. “Would you like to…?”

“Hey, cousin!”

Flash closed his eyes and let out a long, low sigh before turning to face the newcomer. “Hey, Sandbar,” he smiled at the green earth pony, rising to hug him.

“Oh, is this that Twilight mare you talked about?” Sandbar asked, grinning at Twilight. “Damn, cousin, how are you so lucky?”

“Sandbar,” Flash chided, enforcing his point with a sharp elbow to Sandbar's chest.

Twilight giggled. “You must be Sandbar,” she said, rising and extending her hoof. “I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

“Charmed,” Sandbar smiled. “What do you think of the Flappers?”

“They’re wonderful,” Twilight nodded at the mares onstage, watching as Octavia alternated between strumming her instrument with the bow and plucking the strings with her hooves. “I can honestly say I didn’t know that you could use a cello like that.”

“Yeah, Octavia and Vinyl are really cool,” Sandbar grinned. “And it wouldn’t surprise me if Silverstream got a cutie mark in dancing!” He waved at the hippogriff, who smiled back as she and the other two mares began a kickline. “Uh, can hippogriffs get cutie marks?” he asked.

“Not as far as we know,” Twilight replied with a chuckle.

“Aren’t they some of your old classmates?” Flash asked.

“Yeah, Silverstream, Shimmy Shake, Lighthoof, and…” Sandbar’s face fell and he let out a despondent sigh, rubbing the back of his mane. “Ocellus.”

Flash blinked at Sandbar, then looked back up at Blue Rose. The singer made eye contact with him for a moment, but if she recognized him, she didn’t show it at all.

“Wish she could be here instead of at the library right now,” Sandbar sighed. “Anyway, I just came here to pick up lunch.” He trotted over to the bar and spoke briefly to Big Mac, who lifted up a trio of takeout bags and passed them over to him in exchange for a hoofful of bits.

“You’re still working at Fluttershy’s place, right?” Flash asked.

“Yeah, she and Tree Hugger are teaching me a lot,” Sandbar grinned through the bags in his mouth. “I’ll have a head start on my Biology degree when I start college in a few years! See you, cousin. Nice meeting you, Twilight!”

“Say hi to your family,” Flash waved as Sandbar exited.

“Well, he’s interesting,” Twilight chuckled to herself. “How’s he related to you, by the way?”

“His mom is my mom’s younger sister,” Flash explained, then cleared his throat. “So, uh, would you like to--?”

The clearing of a throat interrupted them. “Phone,” Big Mac stated to them, tilting his head back towards the bar.

Twilight hopped up and bustled over to the bar, taking up the hoofset. She spoke into it briefly, then nodded and hung up.

“Sorry, Flash, but we’ve got a case,” she reported, putting some bits on the table to cover for their meal. “Red just called us in.”

Flash sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Why, Mother?” he mumbled.

“Come on!” Twilight called from the door.

“I’m coming,” Flash sighed, finishing off his root beer and hurrying after her.

Daring dropped her passenger and landed outside the crime scene tape that was stretched across the alleyway, shooting a scowl at the crowd of gawkers standing across the street, trying to get a peek at the grisly scene past the parked cars with their spinning lights and the slightly green-faced officers standing posts.

“Do they have nothing better to do?” she asked Phillip, who was taking his trilby out of his vest.

“Even in the Everfree District, not every day you see a dead changeling,” Phillip commented, looking past the tape into the alley. Red Herring stood at the mouth of the alley, looking down at Doctor Mortis, who was crouching next to the subject of their visit.

The body lay splashed across the asphalt near the mouth of the alley, the head resting against a dumpster. The changeling’s chitin was dark blue colored and rough, holes punctured through its limbs like cheese. The jaw hung open to reveal the curved fangs and the horn had been broken off, revealing only a cracked stump like a rotten tree trunk. At first, Daring thought that there were tear tracks running down their face. Then she realized to her horror that the tear tracks were actually dried blood, so dark it was almost black, running down from their eyes...except that there were no eyes, merely ragged holes that stared sightlessly outwards, silently pleading for help.

A shudder ran down Daring’s spine and she turned away, swallowing back bile. “You okay?” Phillip asked, pausing at the tape.

Daring took a deep breath and shook her head, refocusing. “I’m fine,” she reported, striding forward and ducking beneath the tape.

Red looked up at their approach. “About time you got here,” he commented. “A worker in the motel next door found them thirty minutes ago and called police. Dispatch is already combing through any surveillance crystal footage.”

“This will be the first time I’ve ever done an autopsy on a changeling before!” Mortis chirped excitedly. “There’s still so much about changeling anatomy that we don’t know! I’ll have to send a letter to the Changeling Embassy in Canterlot to see if they can send anything over to help!”

“Doctor,” Phillip chided her.

“Sorry,” Mortis shook her head. “Well, she’s got female genitalia...I think. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s not a penis.”

Red and Phillip both gave embarrassed coughs and turned away. “Oh, come on, we’re all adults here,” Mortis scoffed, continuing her examination. “Um, rigor mortis suggests that they were killed a little more than...eight hours ago, assuming that changelings go through rigor at the same rate as ponies. Lividity shows that they died lying on their back, so they were placed here for several hours after they died.” She cringed. “And the poor thing did not die well.”

Daring felt her stomach twisting inside of her as she studied the corpse. The dead changeling was covered in blood and burns, their chitin slashed like they’d been attacked by a pack of wild cats. Burns marred their body, and up close, she realized that their wings had been hacked off, only a few shreds remaining like tatters of a flag after a battle. A ragged hole marked with dark red burns was punched through their chest over their heart, a small dribble of dried red blood running down the chest.

Her eyes focused on the ragged holes that were all that remained of the victim’s eyes, dark blood dripping down her face. For a moment, Daring imagined that the changeling was looking right at her, screaming for help.

Black slime dripped from the empty eye sockets, the vitreous humor burst like rotten eggs. The bodies were strewn across the bloodstained hallway, like breadcrumbs leading to Hell.

“Mother of Faust! What is that thing?!” Screams. Gunshots. Rending flesh and bodies thumping to the floor. Daring and Phillip both sprinted forward, pushing through the door into the evidence room.

The thing was there. So was Trace, writhing in agony as the slimy tentacles drilled through his eyes. The sound of his brain blending sounded horribly in their ears, mixed with his shuddering, choked-off screams. Trace’s body slumped to the floor and the thing looked up at them, black eyes blinking, leech-like mouths at the end of his tentacles slurping and sucking the air. It roared at them, the sky turning red as he lunged…

“Daring? Are you okay?”

Red’s voice pulled Daring back into reality and she realized that she was panting heavily, her head spinning and her heart thumping in her chest. “I’m…” she started to say, but had to swallow down a load of bile rushing up to her throat. She turned away, taking slow deep breaths, mentally ordering her wings to stop twitching and the visions to leave her.

A warm hoof wrapped around Daring’s foreleg and squeezed, rubbing up and down the limb; she could feel it trembling. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Phillip’s. Five-count inhale. Pause. Five-count exhale. Pause. Repeat. Slowly, the ghosts retreated into the back of their memories. Nodding as one, they opened their eyes and returned to work.

Red was currently panning a tracking wand over the ground, revealing hoofprints in low purple light. “Okay, that’s the worker coming out and finding the body,” he nodded, pointing to a trail of smaller hoofprints leading from the side door to the corpse and running back in. “And these…” He lifted himself off the ground and flew over the corpse towards the back of the alley, revealing two trails of prints, one heading down the alley with a pair of drag marks behind it, another heading back. “Guess that’s our dumper.”

“Worn out, can’t get a brand name on ‘em,” Phillip mused, studying the tracks with a magnifying glass. “Size eleven...gait makes him about four-foot-three. Hang on…” He looked closer at one of the tracks.

“Left hind leg’s twisted outward slightly,” he reported. “Gives him an odd gait. Looks like an old injury.”

“Maybe we can check with some rehab places,” Red commented.

“By we, you mean you, right?” Daring smirked.

“Right. Because you two have more important things to do,” Red rolled his eyes, giving her a Flying Feather without turning around.

“Hmm,” Phillip mused, leaning closer to the tracks. “Brush marks on the metal.” He took out a flashlight and cast it at an angle upon a loose piece of cardboard that had a hoofprint upon it, noting the faint black glossy shine upon the corrugated surface. “Shoeshine. These definitely aren’t high-end shoes…” He was silent for a moment. “Ex-military, maybe.”

He and Red turned and walked over to the end of the alley, which opened into a narrow, pothole-covered road. The tracks led to and from a set of tire tracks that swerved slightly onto the broken, uneven sidewalk.

“Looks like a pickup truck,” Phillip theorized, noting that the killer’s tracks led around to the back of the vehicle before turning into the alley. “Tire’s definitely wide enough for it.”

“Yeah, Lug might be able to help more,” Red commented, frowning at the sea of overlapping tire tracks that covered the street before looking up and around. “Damn: no surveillance crystals nearby.”

Meanwhile, Daring was studying the corpse next to Doctor Mortis. “How are we going to find out who she was?” she asked Mortis.

“There’ll be trace evidence on the body, food in their stomach,” Mortis replied. “I for one welcome the challenge!”

“Hmm,” Daring murmured to herself. “Maybe we can ask Buzz.”

“Hey, detective!”

Daring looked up to see an officer waving at her from the other side of the crime scene tape. She trotted up to him.

“A pony said this is for you,” the officer said, handing her a folded note.

Daring looked up to see a golden-white unicorn mare standing several meters away at the end of a city block, blinking at her through her long, curly yellow and black mane. As soon as Daring made eye contact with her, the mare trotted around the corner and disappeared.

Daring unfolded the note and read the scrawled message.

“Her name was Sweet Tart, worked as a baker. She bought honey from me a few times, that’s how I knew her. She lived in a cottage on White Lily Avenue and owned a yellow pickup truck. I hope you find out who did this fast: this is gonna be bad for every changeling in the city. Buzz.”

Daring looked up at the corner of the block where the figure had disappeared. In the back of her ears, she heard it: a low buzz like angered hornets emanating from the gathered crowd. Fear. Suspicion. Anger. All sounds that she was all too familiar with.

“Is it a changeling?”

“Maybe King Thorax sent a spy in.”

"But I thought the changelings were our allies now?"

“Or maybe they were working for Chrysalis.”

“Chrysalis is dead, idiot. Emperor Armor cut her head off when she tried to impersonate Empress Cadenza at their wedding.”

“How can you be sure that was actually Chrysalis? They can change their shape, after all!”

“There could be more. Anypony we know could be a changeling!”

"Why would they hide if they're not the bad guys?"

Daring felt the words slither down her spine like cold syrup and had to suppress a shiver. “We’ll find ‘em, Buzz,” she muttered, turning back to speak to Phil and Red. “I don’t know how, but we will.”

Flash pulled up the motorcycle to the side of the road and parked, the engine grumbling as he turned the key. He paused for a moment, standing up on the bike to take in the scene before them.

The vacant lot was littered in rubble surrounding the half-formed foundation of an abandoned construction site. Crime scene tape secured the entire perimeter, flapping in the southern wind that carried the scent and sounds of the river, a mere two hundred meters away.

A few officers guarded the crime scene’s boundaries against the small, floating crowds of creatures that milled about outside the tape, drawn to the scene by the spinning red and blue lights of the police cruisers parked around the block. Two figures were standing on the cracked concrete slab in the center of the weed-strewn block, crouching over a green tarp that was weighed down by random debris: Doctor Suunkii, pawing the ground with his gloved hooves, and Sergeant Prowl. Whatever they were looking at was blocked by a stack of loose cement blocks.

Flash slid off the bike seat and extended a hoof to help Twilight out of the sidecar.

“Thanks,” she smiled, her cheeks turning a touch redder. He smiled back and tried to suppress his own blush as he unbuckled his helmet, setting it in the sidecar.

“Twilight Sparkle, come quickly, please,” Doctor Suunkii called. “And bring the red kit from the truck.”

“Coming, Doctor,” Twilight called, hustling over to the blue pickup truck and grabbing a red fishing box from the bed. Flash hustled over, ducking beneath the tape after Twilight.

“Took you long enough,” Bumblebee snarked as they passed him. “Were you in the middle of something?”

“You and Arc would know, wouldn’t you?” Flash smirked back, turning to face the new pale face amongst the blue. The younger griffon looked back at him, shifting in place, reaching up to brush the blue feathers that stuck out from beneath his cap, the bill and badge still shimmering like new.

“Gallus?”

Gallus stood up straight and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir,” he answered.

Flash smiled. “So these two lunkheads took you on as a new partner?”

“We needed a new grunt after you got all high and mighty and got promoted to detective,” Bumblebee grinned, giving Gallus a hearty slap on the back that elicited a started squawk from the griffon. “You just wait, Gallus. We’ll make you into one of the best officers in the department soon.”

“Before or after you break my back?” Gallus muttered.

“You listen to these guys, Gallus,” Flash said. “They’ll watch your back just as well as they did mine.”

“Coming from the guy who got kidnapped twice, that really doesn’t make me feel better,” Gallus replied.

“Uh…” Flash muttered, his cheeks coloring as Bumblebee stuffed his hoof into his mouth to stifle his giggling.

“Hey!” Prowl called. “You can have the reunion later, Sentry. Dead body right now.”

“Right,” Flash nodded. He gave Gallus a brief pat on the shoulder and a warm smile. “Mavri would be proud of you,” he said.

Gallus blinked, then forced a half-smile onto his face for a moment before looking down at the ground. Flash winced a bit, then hustled over to where Prowl, Twilight, and Suunkii were waiting.

As he approached, he finally saw what had their attention. Laying beneath the tarp, which had been partially folded back to allow access, was the corpse of a blue stallion. He only realized that it had been a unicorn when he saw the broken stump of the horn that was protruding through the light purple bangs.

“A kid who was playing in the lot found it and called the police,” Prowl stated, nodding towards a young, dirt-streaked filly that was sitting, miserably plucking grass from the ground. “Poor kid,” Prowl said, shaking her head. “Her mom’s already on her way to pick her up.”

“Twilight Sparkle, I will take photographs of the surrounding area and debris before we uncover the body,” Suunkii instructed, watching as Twilight unpacked camera equipment from the toolbox. “I wish for you to search the nearby area for tracks and any other evidence.”

“Got it, doctor,” Twilight reported. “Filtering out our hoofprints…” Her horn lit up and waves of purple magic panned out over the surrounding ground. A faint line of small hoofprints appeared in lavender across the concrete pad.

“That’s the filly,” she murmured, continuing her scan. Another set of hoofprints appeared, these larger. They appeared on the ground and led up to where the body lay, wandering around the tarp, then vanished once more. Twilight frowned, then sent out a shower of small glittering purple stars that danced in the air for a moment before vanishing.

“No sign of teleportation magic,” she reported. “A pegasus must have dropped them off.”

Flash thought for a moment, then trotted over to the little filly, moving around the glowing tracks. The young girl was staring at Twilight with open-mouthed astonishment.

“Hi,” he smiled at her, sitting down next to her. The younger filly was blue in color, though her coat was mostly covered in mud and dirt. Her purple and white mane was equally scruffy, but her green eyes were fixed on Twilight’s horn in awe.

“Do you think I can make magic like that one day?” she asked Flash.

Flash chuckled. “If you work hard and stay in school, maybe you’ll get your cutie mark in it,” he said. “I’m Flash Sentry. That’s my friend Twilight Sparkle. What’s your name?”

“Glitter Dance,” the filly replied. “I’m six and a half!”

“Nice to meet you, Glitter,” Flash nodded. “Is your mom coming?”

“Yeah,” Glitter nodded.

“Glitter, is it okay if I ask you a few questions about what happened here?” Flash asked.

Glitter’s face fell and she looked back down at the ground, picking at the grass. After a few moments, she nodded.

“What were you doing here?” Flash asked.

“I was walking home after school and went to play in this lot,” Glitter said. “I knew mom probably wouldn’t be home by now because of her job on the docks, so I thought I could wait a little, and I play here quite a lot. But then I saw that pile of junk that wasn’t there before and thought there might be something cool under there.”

She shifted uncomfortably, grabbing a tuft of grass and yanking it out. “But then I pulled it aside and…” She swallowed and sniffled.

“You did the right thing, Glitter,” Flash soothed, gently extending a wing and patting her on the back. “You called the police right away and got us here so we can find the guy who did this.”

Glitter sniffled and nodded, managing to smile up at him. “Are you sure you’re gonna catch him?” she asked.

“We’re the police. That’s what we do,” Flash smiled. “Glitter, did you see anypony weird around here before you found the body? Maybe a weird pegasus?”

Glitter shook her head. “Okay. And was the tarp there this morning when you walked past it?” Flash pressed.

“No. I didn’t see it there,” Glitter replied. “That’s why I was curious, because that...tarp was new.”

“Do you recognize the pony there?” Flash asked.

Glitter looked back down at the ground again but shook her head mutely.

“Okay. Is it okay if we call you again if we have any other questions?” Flash asked.

Glitter shrugged. “I guess. You’ll have to talk to my mom.”

“Maybe next time, I’ll bring Twilight over,” Flash offered. “She can teach you some of her magic.”

Glitter Dance looked up again, her emerald irides shining. “Really?” she asked.

“I’ll ask her about it,” Flash said with a wink.

A taxi pulled up and a dark green mare wearing a set of grease-stained overalls and a grimy bandana over her mane jumped out, racing over to Glitter. “I gotta go. Bye, Mr. Sentry!” Glitter said, waving to Flash as she hurried over to her mom.

“Bye, Glitter,” Flash waved before walking back to Twilight and Suunkii, who were removing and bagging the junk weighing the tarp down. “You find anything else?” he asked, the smile vanishing from his face.

“Not much we can definitively link to the killer,” Twilight shook her head. “Most of this is just random junk.”

“The tarp might have something,” Flash said. “She said it’s new, so I’m guessing that they wrapped the body in it to dump it.”

“Good idea,” Twilight nodded.

“Twilight Sparkle, are you ready to lift the tarp off?” Suunkii asked, dropping a plank of wood into a paint bucket.

“Yes, doctor,” Twilight nodded. She lit up her horn and a purple aura gently lifted the tarp off the body, carefully folding it and setting it into a large paper bag that she then sealed.

The corpse was lying on its left side, dried blood staining his chest around a gunshot wound, the ragged hole lined with burn marks. Purple discoloration was spread across his left side, and darker bruises littered his torso and face. His cutie mark was a camera.

“He didn’t die long ago,” Flash commented, crouching down next to the body. “Lividity is pretty recent.” He bent down to take a closer look at the horn and winced at the jagged break. “Ugh...I think that was whacked off with a hammer.”

Suunkii shook his head. “I fear that this may get worse before it gets better, my friends,” he reported gravely.

“What do you mean, doctor?” Twilight asked, her face a couple of shades paler.

“Doctor Mortis is currently examining a body of a changeling discovered in the Everfree District,” Suunkii said. “That changeling also had their horn broken off in a similar manner and had similar wounds.”

Twilight and Flash stared at each other, eyes wide as saucers. “You don’t think…” Flash started to say.

Twilight shook her head. “We don’t know for sure,” she said. “Let’s just finish examining this scene first and then we can start figuring out what happened.”

And if there’s a serial killer in Ponyville, Flash thought grimly.

“Now what do we do? Our entire plan hinged on her!”

“There are other changelings in Ponyville. We’ll find them and get them to work for us. Somehow.”

“Yeah, and how are you gonna find a changeling?”

“There are ways. I’ll ask around, see what I can come up with.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“We have come too far, and paid way too much money, to bail on the plan now. You want all this to be for nothing?

“Fuck...and what about the tunnel? This is gonna slow things down too much.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ve still got the traps working, and the tunnel’s about finished anyway. And our friend will keep it safe for us; he's got a lot of money riding on this, too.”

“Okay. Okay...and how are we gonna get the changeling to work with us?”

“Money’s a good motivator. And if not...well, there are other ways.”

Author's Note

St. Megan's Ballroom is based on this ditty, one of my favorite electroswing numbers!

Hope that this piqued your interest, reader! I look forward to reading your comments and seeing you again next week with more intrigue!

Case Sixteen, Chapter Two: Years of Hate

Red Herring mopped his face and looked over the files scattered over his desk. “Okay. We got two dead ponies, and we’re pretty sure that they were killed by the same guys,” he summed up.

“Similar cloth in their teeth from when they were gagged, similar rope marks on their bodies, and the bullets were both .38 rounds with similar ballistics,” Flash recited. “But what’s bothering me is the different signatures.”

Red looked at two of the crime scene photographs. One, the changeling propped up against the dumpster. The other, the stallion wrapped beneath the tarp.

“Explain,” he prompted.

“The changeling, Sweet Tart, was literally tossed out with the trash,” Flash stated. “There was next to no attempt to hide the body: in fact, she was practically displayed. Whoever dumped her body had to have known that she was going to be found soon.

“Now, with Shutter Speed, the body was wrapped up in a tarp and placed in a junk lot. There was an attempt to hide him, cover him up. That, to me, indicates remorse.”

“And then there’s the torture,” Red added.

“Right,” Flash nodded. “Sweet Tart was tortured before she died for a long time.” He glanced at the picture of her body, then quickly darted his eyes away, failing to repress a shudder. “That speaks of very personal hatred. But Shutter was barely hurt at all. They roughed him up from when they abducted him from his house this morning and snapped off his horn, but that’s basically it.”

“So…” Red prompted, waving his hoof for Flash to continue.

“So maybe we’re dealing with a group that’s hunting changelings,” Flash theorized. “They mistook Shutter for a changeling for some reason and when they realized their mistake, they killed him and dumped the body. Clearly, whoever got rid of him didn’t feel good about it.”

“Give the boy a medal,” Red stated. “So what’s our next move?”

“Try to find out how they identified Sweet Tart and Shutter as targets,” Flash said. “There has to be a common thread between them. Also, better put a BOLO on Sweet Tart’s truck. I’m betting that that’s what they were using to dump her off, since it wasn’t found at her home.”

“Sound theory, lad,” Captain Hewn Oak announced as he entered the office.

“Captain,” Flash said, sitting up straight.

“At ease, son. This isn’t the military,” the gray-maned donkey waved him down. “Where are Detectives Finder and Do?”

“On the street, checking the vics’ homes and trying to track down possible suspects for the killer,” Red said. “Which we should be doing. Only reason we stopped in here was to clear up some paperwork and look through surveillance crystal footage.”

“Your tenacity is always to be admired, Red,” Captain Oak stated. “However, I’m afraid I’m going to have to tug your leashes a bit and pull you onto another trail.”

It took a moment for Flash to decode the Captain’s speech. “What do you mean? What’s higher priority than this?”

The middle-aged donkey gestured back to the door. A Crystal pony, his light yellow coat shimmering slightly, his white and amber mane and beard seemingly carved from precious stone, smiled at the two detectives. The light brown suit he wore looked strange on him, like it was a piece displayed on a ponyquin. His cutie mark was a sun rising over a lake.

“This is Signor Alba Dorata,” Captain Oak introduced him. “Current CEO of North Star Capital Industries. He has a problem with some interlopers and I need--”

“Captain, this is bullshit,” Red snapped. “We’re dealing with fucking serial killers right now and--”

Hewn Oak cut Red off with a sharp look and a raised hoof. “Signor, would you give us a moment, please?” he said placidly to their guest.

“Certainly,” Alba Dorata replied after a moment, still blinking in shock at Red’s outburst.

Oak smiled reassuringly at him and closed the door. He took a deep breath before turning back to face Red.

“I know that this doesn’t look good,” he said firmly. “But as much as you want to avoid it, politics are an inescapable trap of our lives.”

“You know that North Star is just Monopoly Investments under a new name,” Red spat back. “How do we know that he’s not just some wannabe don trying to elbow in on the department?!”

“Be assured, I have thoroughly checked out Signor Dorata’s background,” Oak replied. “There is nothing of suspicion in his past. Be also assured that he is in command of a significant financial enterprise, one that he is willing to put at our disposal. Money, a squadron of excellent defense attorneys, weapons, armor, equipment--”

“Why the fuck would I want to touch anything that had been used by Cerberus?!” Red snapped.

“Red, easy!” Flash cried, raising a placating hoof at his partner.

“I understand your hesitation, Red,” Oak stated. “But Cerberus is long dismantled. Is it not better--poetic, even--that those weapons once used against us be turned towards our enemies?”

“This reeks of fish and you know it,” Red spat.

“We are being careful,” Oak replied. “But in case you haven’t noticed, Red, we spent most of the year at war. The cost of that war was in both blood and gold. Put bluntly, we need as many friends as we can get. Especially rich friends who are willing to come forward with their generosity. And besides, it may be wise to keep an individual such as him close at hoof.”

Red huffed through his nostrils but said nothing. “Fine. So why are we being called off the serial killers to deal with him?”

“You are not being called off: I have every confidence that Phillip Finder and Daring Do will find more clues for you while they are out,” Oak explained. “However, Signor Dorata’s cooperation will be easier to acquire if he is assured that we are taking his case seriously.”

“Why did you have to pick us?” Red asked.

“He requested the best we had,” Oak replied. “In fact, he specifically asked for the ones who were most instrumental in defeating Zugzwang.”

“So we’re just catering to the ponies with the deepest pockets now, is that right?” Red scoffed.

“Our priority is and always will be protecting the innocent,” Oak stated. “All I am asking is that you help this stallion with his problem.”

Red fumed silently, trying to come up with a suitable counterargument.

“Red, how about this,” Flash interrupted. “You wrap up this stuff and I’ll help Dorata.”

Red turned his burning gaze to Flash for a moment, then sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled, turning back to his desk with a disdainful grunt.

“Thank you, Detective Sentry,” Oak nodded gratefully, opening the door for him.

The Crystal businesspony was still waiting outside, fidgeting worriedly, avoiding the gazes of the passing detectives. Oak walked up to Alba Dorata and patted him on the shoulder, beckoning to Flash with a smile and a few quiet words. Dorata shifted and blinked at Flash, smiling nervously. Flash looked him up and down, trying to ignore the suspicious squirming in his stomach.

You sure he’s not a mob boss? That this isn’t just another Monopoly?

He took a shaky breath to settle his nerves. Right now, he’s a civilian with a case. Do your job, but ear to the ground, Flash, he heard Phillip’s voice in his ear. With a final nod to himself, Flash approached and extended his hoof.

“Sorry about my partner,” Flash said, shaking Dorata’s hoof. “He...takes time to warm up to ponies. I’m Detective Flash Sentry.”

“Yes, yes, I heard about you,” Alba Dorata nodded. “I’m, er, Alba Dorata. CEO of North Star Enterprises.”

“How about we go over here, get some coffee, so we can talk?” Flash offered, gesturing over to a table with a coffee maker set up on it.

“Si, si, that’s good,” Alba said.

Flash led his client over to the coffee machine and poured him a steaming paper cup. “Cream, sugar?”

“Two sugar,” Dorata said.

Flash stirred in the sugar and handed the cup to him. “Grazie,” Dorata nodded, taking the cup in a golden aura and lifting it to his lips.

“So,” Flash said, pouring a straight black cup for himself. “What brings you here?”

“I, uh,” Alba stammered, looking into his cup. “I think I’m being watched and followed.”

“And what makes you think that?” Flash asked.

“Well, for the past couple of weeks now, I’ve noticed a couple of ponies that seem to be following me around,” Alba replied. “I see them from time to time, at the market, around my home. They even came into North Star a few days ago, both of them to speak to some agents regarding investment portfolios.”

“Can you describe them?” Flash asked.

“One is a green unicorn with blonde hair and a beard: I think his cutie mark is a pair of stars,” Alba said. “The other is a yellow earth pony with white hair. I’ve never gotten a good look at his cutie mark, I’m afraid.”

“And you’ve seen them several times in the past few weeks?” Flash continued. “Do you think it could just be a coincidence?”

“I thought it might be that,” Alba admitted. “But when both of those ponies were in North Star, they asked many questions of the staff. Questions about me.”

Flash frowned. “What kinda questions?” he asked.

“They were laced as small talk, asking about what it was like to work with my company, but they asked about my habits,” Alba continued, stirring his coffee with a small stick from the table, staring into the dark brown liquid as if he could scry some answers to his situation out of it. “When I come into the office, my habits. It was enough to raise some eyebrows amongst my staff, let us say.”

“I see,” Flash nodded. “Did you get their names?”

“Oh, yes, um…” Alba fumbled in his suit for a moment and extracted a notebook, flipping it open and studying the scribbles within. “They said their names were Morning Prance and Wheatfield. And, yes, they left some contact information.” He tore off a sheet and handed it to Flash. Flash frowned at the narrow writing on it, having to take a few moments to decode it.

“I’ll see if we can dig up anything about them,” Flash nodded. “In the meantime, I suggest that you stay at home as much as you can. When you need to go out, try to vary your routine: take different routes, change what time you leave and get to work, that kind of thing. Don’t travel alone: I’m sure that you can hire a bodyguard or something. If you see them or anypony else, call the police and stay in public areas.”

“I will. Grazie, Detective Sentry,” Alba smiled, shaking Flash’s hoof.

“I’ll put in a request to have officers pass your house a few times,” Flash offered. “Where do you live?”

“My home is number 77 Steel Street,” Alba replied, an address that Flash recognized as being right in the middle of the Financial District.

“We’ll contact you if we need anything else,” Flash nodded, waving over a nearby officer. “Can you escort Signor Dorata home?”

“Will do,” the blue-bearded officer nodded. “Follow me, signor,” he beckoned, leading Dorata to the door.

“Oh, one other thing,” Alba said, pausing and turning back to Flash. “I saw the yellow one leaving North Star after his appointment four or five days ago. He got into a white pickup truck. I caught part of the license plate.” He frowned in thought for a moment, rolling his eyes back as he struggled to dredge up the memory. “Ah, si: 4-C-R.”

A bell rang deep in Flash’s mind. “I see,” he frowned, nodding. “Thank you, Mister Dorata. We’ll get back to you on this soon.”

“I hope so. A Presto, detective.” With a final wave, the CEO followed his escort out.

Flash hustled back to Red’s office, sprinting inside without knocking. He grabbed the papers on the desk and began rustling through them. “Red, you really ought to try sorting these,” he growled in frustration.

“He says as he makes an even bigger mess than before,” Red snapped back, glaring at him. “I knew where everything was before!”

“Where’s Sweet Tart’s truck info, then?”

Red yanked a paper out of the mess and handed it to Flash with a glare. “Thanks,” Flash said, taking it and studying the typewritten letters.

His jaw dropped when he got to the license plate: 4CREN5.

“What is it?” Red asked.

“I think Dorata’s case just got a lot more complicated,” Flash replied.

Phillip crouched on the cracked sidewalk of the small drive in the Everfree District, shaded by trees replete with leaves that were just starting to turn from green to red and brown.

“Yup, blood here,” he reported, pointing at a dark stain on the concrete, long dried.

“How you can find shit like that, I will never know,” Bumblebee commented, bending down to take a photo of the black streak.

“Lots of practice, Bee,” Phillip replied, studying the other bloodstains spread out across the street. “Okay...we know from neighbors that Shutter Speed leaves his home to go jogging every morning around six.” He pointed to a series of teardrop-shaped stains on the ground. “Looks like they knocked Shutter down first, then stomped on his head a few times to daze him.” He paused to think for a moment. “He was already on the ground when the first blow came. Possibly attacked by a unicorn who hit him with a spell.”

He pointed to some dark splatters on the street. “See how those have a sharp border, like they were measured with a ruler? Their vehicle parked there: it blocked the blood coming from this hit.”

“Probably not a pickup truck, then,” Bumblebee noted. “Maybe a van or something.”

“Ripper thinking,” Phillip nodded, continuing to scan the area. “Hmm. Tracks will be useless on a sidewalk and street like this, but…”

“None of the neighbors saw or heard anything weird,” Bumblebee commented. “Then again, most of them weren’t awake yet. But this snatch couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. That van would’ve come right up on him after he got hit.”

“They were waiting for him,” Phillip concluded. “They watched him, knew his routine. Just means that there’s some connection between him and Sweet Tart.”

He and Bumblebee continued to search the area for any other clues but found nothing significant. With a grunt, Phillip turned and looked up at the small green and white one-story cottage that sat at the end of a short drive, a pale blue bicycle chained to a pillar on the front porch. Gallus the griffon was emerging from the front door, carrying a box.

“I got all his notebooks and calendars and stuff,” he reported, holding out the box to Phil.

“Watch your step in the future, anklebiter. You might’ve stepped on a clue,” Phillip said, taking the box. “Good. Somewhere in here, there has to be a connection.”

A sharp whistle sounded overhead as a golden pegasus and a thestral landed on the street. “We went through Sweet Tart’s place,” Daring reported. “Didn’t find anything useful there.”

“Didn’t think you would, but had to try,” Phillip admitted. “You get her calendars, address books?”

“Yeah, here,” Prowl reported, shouldering a bag filled with papers. She passed it over to Phil with a scowl.

“And you asked about rehab hospitals for former service members,” she added. “I have a few friends who go to a physical therapist in the Financial District, the Easy Transitions.”

“Thank you,” Phillip nodded, concentrating on the books.

Prowl scowled a bit to herself. "Something on your mind, Sergeant?" Phillip asked.

"I..." Prowl took a breath. "I find myself wondering how many other changelings there really are left in this city."

"Does it matter?" Daring said curtly.

"It matters to somepony who spent years fighting them," Prowl replied, her voice becoming a growl as her hackles rose. "To somepony who had their squadmates murdered and impersonated by them. To somepony who--"

Prowl paused and turned away, taking slow, forced breaths. "Swings at St. Megan's...Uncle Honeydew's candy shop..." she started mumbling to herself, shaking her head. Bumblebee immediately trotted over and pulled her into a sideways hug. Gallus hesitated for a moment, then trotted over and started awkwardly patting her on the back.

"Prowl, the war's over," Bumblebee soothed. "The changelings are not the bad guys anymore."

"I know, I know," Prowl nodded. “It’s just...not easy to let go of years of hate.”

“Might be best if you took some time to cool off,” Phillip offered. “Thank you for helping anyway.”

Prowl took a breath and nodded. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said, flapping off. Gallus and Bumblebee both retreated back to their positions watching the perimeter.

Phillip watched her fly away in silence before turning back to Daring. “Did you check with Buzz?” he asked.

“He wasn't at home,” Daring stated.

“We’ll try again later,” Phillip said. “We should try to find Blue Rose and warn them. Maybe she knows some other changelings.”

Daring scowled. “You do remember what happened the last time we spoke to her, right?”

“I do,” Phillip said. “But she also helped Flash when Whitestone was stalking Twilight. And besides, she doesn’t deserve what happened to Sweet Tart.”

The eyeless corpse flashed before Daring’s eyes and she grimaced, then sighed reluctantly. “You’re right.”

Phillip glanced at his watch. “Damn: her show at the Apple Pie will be over by now.”

“Flash said she had a daughter, Ocellus?” Daring pondered. “She worked at the library, I think.”

“Right,” Phillip said, already turning away. “It’s not that far a walk--”

“When are you gonna learn?” Daring grinned, spreading her wings wide.

Phillip groaned and closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

The Golden Oak Library sat on the end of Golden Oak Street, a mile down from the titanic tree that gave the street its name, and from Twilight Sparkle and Doctor Suunkii’s houses. The two-story edifice was constructed of red brick, which stood out against the bright green grass and multicolored leaves of the park behind it. A concrete sphinx sat on a platform at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the door, a welcoming but enigmatic smile on her face as she greeted visitors.

Phillip and Daring landed at the bottom of the stairs and proceeded up to the glass doors, pushing inside. Daring sniffed deeply and sighed at the familiar scent of the books that were stacked up on the shelves, allowing her hooves to sink into the light gray carpet. For a moment, she was a young filly again, looking for something new to read, and her eyes drifted towards the section on ancient history and languages.

She shook herself out of her reverie and followed Phillip to the front desk. “Is Ocellus here?” he asked the gray-maned receptionist.

“She went out back to speak to her...mother,” the receptionist said, the last word rolling off her tongue with a note of distaste as she tilted her head to the back.

Phillip and Daring proceeded through the large library to the back glass doors that opened to the park. A quick glance around revealed a tall white unicorn and an arctic blue pegasus filly standing beneath a low-hanging tree, arguing in hushed tones.

“We can’t just leave!” Ocellus was protesting almost tearfully as the detectives approached. “All of my friends are here, my job--I’m still applying for colleges!”

“Do you remember the lynch mobs?” Blue Rose replied sharply. “Honey, if there are changeling hunters around, I--!”

She cut herself off when she saw the detectives approaching. She frowned a bit and seemingly subconsciously placed herself between her daughter and the intruders.

“Detectives,” she greeted them with a nod. “I, uh...I’d like to apologize for, uh. Last time.”

Daring grunted in acknowledgment, watching the filly. The girl, clearly just barely an adult, ducked further behind her mother, tail tucked between her legs.

“My daughter, Ocellus,” Blue Rose introduced them with a nod.

“G’day,” Phillip nodded to the filly, bending down a little so that his head was level with hers. “Heard you’re rooting to be a librarian.”

Ocellus nodded quickly, shifting nervously in place.

“I’m sure you and Twilight would get along well,” Phillip smiled at her before standing fully up to face Blue Rose. “Gather you know what happened.”

“Rumor spreads fast,” Blue Rose replied, her eyes darting around to check every bystander twice and her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air. “I assume you’re working on the case.”

“We are,” Phillip said. “We’re going to find them, Rose.”

Blue Rose stared at him for a beat, then nodded. “I’m sure you will. But we’re not going to be hanging around to see it.”

“Mom, no!” Ocellus cried.

“Rose, please,” Phillip said, raising a hoof. “I know you’re scared, but--”

“Oh, you know--you know I’m scared?” Rose snapped at him, her furious eyes shifting to the solid green orbits of a changeling. “How would you know?! Have you ever had to run from your home with the little child that you knew they were going to turn into a monster?! Have you ever had to hide from lynch mobs? Have you ever had to walk around with your head down, smelling the fear and hate from all the ponies around you?!”

“Mom, stop it!” Ocellus cried, trying to pull her away.

Phillip took a step back, his chest tightening a bit as he fought down the urge to reach for his baton. He was silent for a moment, then took a breath. “You’re right, I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I do know that you and all the other changelings in this city are in danger. And I know that we’re trying to help you by stopping the bad guys.”

Blue Rose glared at him for a second, then closed her eyes and took a slow breath. When she opened them again, her eyes had resumed their disguise.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, I...it’s hard for me to trust the police after they spent so long hunting me.”

“Hard to let go of that much hate,” Phillip nodded.

“Yeah,” Rose nodded, looking down at the ground. “Promise you’re going to protect my daughter?”

“We’ll do what we can,” Phillip promised. “Are there any other changelings in Ponyville? One of them might be the link between all of this.”

Rose thought for a moment. “You’ll want to talk to Doctor Asclepius, on Marigold Street. He’s the only changeling doctor in town. As far as I know, every changeling here goes to him.”

Phillip nodded. “Anypony else?”

“Besides Sweet Tart and Buzz, none that I know of,” Rose replied. Sniffing the air, she watched a passing pony, who glanced sideways at them as he entered the library. “You should get going,” she urged.

“Thank you, Rose,” Phillip replied.

“Just find the fuckers,” Rose grunted, already turning away. “Ocellus, come on. We’re going home.”

Ocellus looked like she was going to protest, then sighed. “Okay, mom. Good luck, detectives.” She waved at Phil and Daring as she followed Rose around the building and out of sight.

“Well,” Daring said. “To Marigold Street.”

“Aces,” Phillip nodded, allowing Daring to pick him up beneath the forelegs and carry him up into the air. As they passed over the library, Phillip looked down and spotted the two disguised changelings heading down the sidewalk, their heads down and eyes darting back and forth, Ocellus pressed up close against her mother.

A gravestone flashed before his eyes, a name carved into the cold granite: “Mavri.” His stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with being carried dozens of feet in the air.

“Faster,” Phillip urged Daring, who nodded grimly and put on speed.

Doctor Asclepius’ clinic was a wide, flat-roofed white cottage sitting at the end of the narrow street, mere yards away from a chain-link fence that marked the edge of the Everfree Forest. A few cars were parked in the lot next to the building, the entryway marked with a rod and serpent sign.

Daring and Phillip landed at the top of the ramp that led up to the front door and headed inside, entering a lobby the size of a comfortable living room, the perimeter lined with cushioned chairs and a table with neatly organized magazines stacked on the table. Three of the chairs were occupied with waiting ponies. Soft classical music played over a speaker mounted on the walls that were marked with posters for food pyramids, vaccines, and warning about the dangers of drug and alcohol abuse.

The pair approached the front desk, where a pale yellow unicorn sat studying a framed photograph. The mare quickly put it down as they approached, allowing the detectives a glimpse of a stallion in an army uniform; her brother, Phillip guessed, noting the similar coat colors and the lack of a wedding ring on her horn. “We need to speak to Doctor Asclepius,” Daring reported.

“The doctor is busy with a patient right now,” the purple-maned unicorn receptionist replied with a placid smile. The tag on her white blouse declared that her name was Golden Highlight. “I’ll let you know when he gets out. Please take a seat.”

Phillip and Daring took chairs in the corner, next to a window that opened to the street outside. Phillip stared at the window, noting a familiar cottage across the street. Fluttershy’s house and office, he nodded, watching a dark blue van pass by with a frown.

“You think Blue Rose is gonna stay?” Daring asked. “I mean, if I were her, I’d be running away, too. Especially if I had a kid.”

“It may be the smart thing to do,” Phillip conceded, still watching the streets.

A door leading into the interior of the building opened and two figures stepped through. One was a tall white unicorn stallion with a close blonde beard, his cutie mark a golden rod and snake like that on the sign outside. The other was a familiar golden-white unicorn with a long yellow and black mane, a jar of honey and a loaf of bread on her flanks.

“Bu--Sugar?” Daring asked, rising. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I’ve been running errands all morning,” “Sugar Loaf” replied, head tilted in confusion. “What’s happened?”

“Doctor, we need to speak to you two,” Phillip urged.

Doctor Asclepius raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, but nodded. “I see. Cinnamon, Coffee, Aspen, are you three all right with waiting a little longer?”

“Hey, if they need to talk to you, that’s more important than my hoof,” an orange-brown mare shrugged. The other two patients nodded.

“Come,” the doctor said, beckoning them inside.

The four proceeded down a hallway into a white windowless examination room. Once the door was closed and secured, the doctor and the baker nodded to one another.

Both were briefly enveloped with green flames, then two changelings stood before Phil and Daring. Buzz was colored honey yellow, with a blue fin and semi-transparent white wings. Asclepius had aqua blue chitin and a blonde fin, his wings yellow-green.

“I assume you’re here about the murder of the changeling,” he stated, removing his glasses.

“Yes,” Phillip nodded. “Her name was Sweet Tart.”

Asclepius sighed. “She was one of my patients, yes,” he nodded.

“Was Shutter Speed a patient, too?” Daring asked.

“Is he dead, too?” Asclepius asked.

“Oh, Holy Mother,” Buzz breathed. “Is there a lynch mob?”

“That’s what we think,” Phillip admitted. “And it looks like your office is the common link.”

Asclepius frowned and nodded. “I see. I shall give you copies of my records, help you narrow down any suspects.”

“Do you have any military patients?” Phillip asked. “Somepony about four foot three with a twisted left hind leg?”

Asclepius frowned in thought for a bit, then shook his head. “No, that doesn’t ring a bell, I’m afraid.”

“We’re going to have to speak to you and your receptionist,” Phillip stated.

“Certainly,” Asclepius agreed.

“Buzz, you’re going to have to find the other changelings in town,” Daring said. “Warn them that they’re in trouble, get them to stick together. If they see anything suspicious, they need to tell us ASAP. We’ve already warned Blue Rose and her kid.”

“There aren’t many other changelings in Ponyville besides us, but I’ll try to find them,” Buzz nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes open, ask around.”

“Thanks,” Daring said.

The two changelings resumed their disguises as they exited the room and headed back down the hallway. “Gold will give you the list of my patients,” the doctor declared as they reached the lobby door. “I’ll be glad to help however I can, but I don’t speak about my patients outside of work--”

Tires screeched outside. The window shattered, the patients screamed in shock. Something landed on the carpeted floor with a heavy thumping. Something long and black, with a fuse on the end that hissed angrily as sparks shot out of it.

“BOMB!”

Phillip jumped back and tackled the doctor, his glasses flying off as he fell to the floor. Phil yanked his vest up over his head and clamped his hooves to his ears, catching a glimpse of Daring jumping towards the other patients, shoving the brown mare to the floor.

Green flame flashed and the last thing Phillip saw was a yellow dragon diving on top of the bomb, curling their scales around the explosive.

Author's Note

I fear that everything I worked so hard for is about to blow up in my face! Or, you know, Buzz's face.

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Case Sixteen, Chapter Three: Scent of Smoke

The explosion hit Phillip like a giant hammer of fire and smoke, the shockwave slamming into him so hard that he thought that an elephant had landed on his back, all the air rushing from his lungs at once; only the fact that he kept his mouth open prevented them from being ruptured. The malodor of cordite attacked his nostrils and tongue, his ears felt like they had exploded like balloons, and pain danced across his entire body.

Consciousness returned a moment later, his head pounding like a drum and his ears ringing loudly; beneath the tinnitus, he heard screaming. He looked up, coughing on the smoke that hung over the room, casting everything in a dark haze and stinging at his eyes.

Daring was laying on top of the cinnamon-colored patient, who was screaming and clutching her ears; the other two patients were lying flat on their backs in the corner, slowly rising and blinking, testing limbs for injuries, mouths agape as they panted and coughed. Daring started to rise, grunting and shaking soot from her mane. Phillip looked her over and a weight lifted off his heart when he saw that aside from some harsh red burns over her hind legs and wings and a line of blood trickling from one ear, she appeared to be mostly unharmed.

An agonized howl cut through the smokey air. Where the bomb had landed lay a yellow dragon, writhing on the ground in pain, clenching his jaw to try to stifle the agony. The scales on his chest and left side were covered in burns and blue-green ichor; shrapnel was embedded into his body, fresh streams of blood running from the wounds with every heavy, groaning breath he took.

“Buzz,” Phillip grunted, starting to rise only to fall back with a scream as agony raced up his left hind leg. He glanced down to find that his limb was soaked red, smoke rising from the twisted nails and red metal shards that were embedded in the burned flesh.

“Oh, Mother,” Doctor Asclepius moaned, stirring beneath him and blinking. “What happ--?”

Buzz screamed again, more blue-green blood running from his mouth. Asclepius sat up, taking in the room. The shock and disbelief on his face shone for a moment through the smoke.

Then it was gone as he pulled himself out from beneath Phillip. His horn lit up green-gold and he swept an aura over Phillip’s body. The spell felt like a gentle trickle of warm water running down his body, soothing despite the pain of his injuries and the throbbing of his heart.

“No serious internal injuries. You’ll be okay,” he said, a strain beneath his calm tone as he cast a wave of magic over the shrapnel, which hissed loudly as it cooled. “It looks worse than it is. I need to help him.”

Phillip gritted his teeth and nodded. Asclepius raced over to Buzz and knelt beside him. “Cinnamon, Coffee, Aspen, are you all okay?” he called as he began casting spells over the wounds, irrigating the flesh and cooling the hot shrapnel.

“He…” Cinnamon stared at the green blood in disbelief, clearly recognizing it from the warning brochures that had been handed out during the Crystal War. “That was...is that a changeling?”

Asclepius didn’t answer, speaking soothingly to Buzz as he tended to him. Cinnamon looked around at her other two patients, who were marveling at their uninjured limbs, slowly reassuring themselves that they were still alive. She looked back at the wounded dragon. “He saved us,” she mumbled.

“Call an ambulance, quickly! There is a phone behind the receptionist’s desk!” Asclepius ordered, casting more spells over Buzz’s body. The wounded changeling let out a small sigh and began to breathe more slowly and evenly. Cinnamon shook herself out of her reverie and got up, stumbling slightly and shaking her head as she headed for the desk and grabbed the phone.

Daring had stumbled her way over to Phillip and bent down to study his legs, her eyes struggling to focus on the blood and the wounds. “Shit, shit,” she hissed, reaching for the pocket on her vest where she stored the first aid materials.

“I’m fine,” Phillip grunted, closing his eyes and pushing away the pain, the screams, the smell of cordite. He went back mentally, recalling the moments before the explosion.

The window smashed again. He recalled a glimmer of purple magic around the bomb as it flew through the window. He froze the image, visualizing the glass shards hanging in midair, and looked outside, studying the street, the traffic frozen.

There. The same vehicle that he had seen passing before.

“Dark blue van with tinted windows,” he reported, speaking sharply into Daring’s uninjured ear. “License has ‘TU7,’ headed west on the road. It might still be nearby. Can you fly?”

Daring spread her wings, gritting her teeth as she tested the muscles, then nodded.

“Go, go!” Phillip ordered.

She hesitated, looking down at the blood running down his leg, pooling around him.

“Go!” Phillip barked, biting down a scream as a slight movement sent fresh waves of pain down his leg.

Daring turned and shot out the door like she’d been fired from a cannon, gold and gray streaks racing through the air. She banked west, wobbling in midair as the ringing in her ear rose to a shriek. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she focused on the street beneath her even as it wobbled before her eyes. Sucking in a breath, she rose up higher, scanning the streets beneath, watching for any blue vans amidst the vehicles beneath.

There! In that alley! Bright blue, license plate 5TU7GR!

Daring swooped down like a hawk, landing next to the parked vehicle. Snarling, she seized the door and yanked it open, one hoof snapping up to aim her pistol at the driver.

Except there was no driver. Or passenger. The van was completely empty.

Daring let out a snarl that turned into a furious roar and she slammed a hoof against the side of the van. Fresh pain ran down her bones, mixing with the burns and the weary ache in her joints from the shock of the explosion. She leaned against the van, breathing slow and deep, forcing the pain down into her gut and turning it into fuel. Her heartbeat slowed, and her mind settled like a pond after a rock had been thrown in it.

She looked up and spotted a pegasus flying overhead. “Hey, you!” she called.

The pink-maned yellow pegasus adorned in the yellow-orange vest of a weather pony looked down and gasped. “Oh! Uh, Parasol at your service, Miss Do, ma’am!” she cried, saluting.

“At ease,” Daring said, shaking her head. “This is a crime scene. Find a gamewell and get the police here. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Parasol saluted and zipped off in search of a phone.

Daring landed next to the van and leaned inside, taking a look around. The first thing she noticed was the rental sticker on the windshield. Hopefully we can get a lead out of that, she mused, running her eyes over the rest of the interior. She saw no personal materials left behind by the clumsy criminals, but…

What’s this?

She knelt down beside the driver’s seat, squinting at the narrow space between the seat and the pedals. “Cashews?” she mused aloud, prodding at one of the discarded shells.

A scent of heavily perfumed tobacco scratched at her nostrils. Daring discovered the source to be a small pile of dark brown ash in the ashtray and a cigarette snub, the label long burned away.

If Phil were here…

The scent of cordite, smoke, and burnt flesh invaded her nostrils. Blood pooled on the floor. Steam rose from hot shrapnel. The knot of panic that had been squirming in her stomach suddenly rushed up to her throat and Daring shuddered as she fought down the urge to vomit.

“Okay, police are on their way!” Parasol announced, flying back. “Hey, uh, are you okay, ma’am?”

“I’m okay,” Daring snapped, shaking her head and swallowing back a wave of bile. “And quit calling me ma’am. Wait for them at the gamewell and lead them over here when they arrive.”

“Got it!” Parasol saluted again and zipped off.

Daring took slow breaths, forcing herself to focus on trying to find more clues, restraining the growing worry. He’ll be okay. He and Buzz. They’ll be fine.

“Stay with me, Buzz,” Asclepius breathed, gently raising the dragon’s legs. “The ambulance is on the way.”

Cinnamon had wrapped her coat around the changeling’s bandaged torso, not caring at all even as the green blood stained the brown fabric. She gripped the dragon’s hand in both of her hooves, rubbing it gently. Buzz managed to smile briefly at her through gritted teeth.

Coffee and Aspen were both bent over Phillip, keeping towels taken from the examination room, wet from both cold water and blood, wrapped around his elevated limb. “You need water, detective?” the ash-white colored Aspen asked, brushing some of her brown-green mane out of her face with a shaking hoof.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Phillip said, grunting as a fresh wave of pain ran up his leg.

A gasp sounded from behind Phil and the receptionist, Golden Highlight, ran in, her purple mane and white blouse bouncing with every step as she clambered over Phillip. “Doctor!” she cried, kneeling next to Buzz.

“The ambulance is already on the way, Gold,” Asclepius said calmly, placing a hoof on his patient’s neck. “Here, help me keep his legs elevated.”

The receptionist took her position, but Phillip found himself staring at her. She was unburnt and unbloodied, her shirt bright white; a pillar amidst the burnt walls, shattered windows, and scattered furniture.

Right: she had not been here when the bomb went off. Gone to the bathroom?

Coincidences are rarely just that.

Something scratched at the back of his mind, a detail that was out of place. He turned and looked over at the desk. Some of the materials had been knocked over and lay scattered about, the phone and the decorative trinkets now sprawled on the floor like the casualties of a battle, but…

The photograph. The photograph of Gold’s brother. The frame was there, the glass cracked like a spiderweb, but the photograph itself was gone.

Phillip turned back to Golden Highlight and spotted something that he should’ve seen before: the black bracelet around the receptionist’s wrist, marked in white: “Golden Standard. 14th Moon of Berries 1923--28th Moon of Hunters 1944. Gone But Not Forgotten.”

And he suddenly knew how the murderers knew their targets, why they chose to attack openly now, when there were several of their targets gathered in one place.

Golden Highlight’s face twisted in hate and her horn lit up. The balisong flew up into her hoof, the blade snapping out with a sharp clic-clack. Blazing brightly in the reflected light, the weapon raced at the doctor’s startled face. Asclepius froze in shock; Buzz jerked upwards, trying to intercept the attack, far too late. She was smooth, quick from practice.

Phillip was smoother, quicker.

A sharp whistle sounded, bone cracked like a breaking tree limb, and the knife clattered across the floor as Golden Highlight clutched her broken wrist, screaming.

Catching his boomerang as it returned, Phillip hauled himself to his hooves. His wounded leg and burned flesh screamed in protest, but he did not care. All he cared about was his target, who was now staring up at him, eyes wide with fear as they met his glare.

“Th-those freaks killed my brother!” Golden Highlight tried to scream, but her voice was shaking like leaves in the wind as she slowly backed away from the oncoming thunderstorm. “They deserve to die! They all deserve to die! Every last one, and any who associate with them!”

Phillip just snarled at her, reaching for the holster with his .38 as the other patients began to rise, pursuing their attacker. Golden snarled at them, madness and fear competing in her green irides. “You’ll all pay!” she snarled, pulling her knife back into her hooves as she turned and sprinted out the broken doorframe, disappearing from sight as she headed for the Everfree Forest.

The pain reasserted itself with force and Phillip fell with a cry, instinctively clutching his bloodied leg. Aspen and Coffee rushed over and started placing the towels back over his limb.

Buzz suddenly coughed and retched, blood that was so dark that it was nearly black bubbling from his mouth. “Buzz?” Asclepius cried, shaken out from his shock.

“What’s happening?” Cinnamon asked, hovering anxiously nearby.

“He has shrapnel piercing his stomach,” Asclepius replied, tilting Buzz’s head back and turning it to the side, not even wincing as vomited blood spewed over his hooves and the floor. The wailing of incoming sirens heralding the coming of ambulances.

“Buzz, breathe, it’s okay,” Cinnamon said, gripping the dragon’s bloodied talon in her own hooves.

Phillip lay on his side, his own injuries fading into the background. His eyes were focused on his dying friend, who shivered and groaned and cried out in pain as the carpet soaked up his blood. He thought of Daring, grimacing in pain, burns over her body. He thought of the eyeless corpse in the alley, the bloodied stallion abandoned in the rubble.

He let out a little growl and let the storm seep into his bones as the first ambulances raced up, brakes and tires screeching in the drive.

They will pay.

Daring bustled through the hospital hallways, pushing past doctors and nurses and patients. She spotted her target, room 341, and pushed inside.

The sight of Phillip propped up in bed, his leg wrapped up in bandages that reeked of salves and propped up on a set of pillows and being tended to by a doctor, made her sigh in relief. “You okay?” she asked, trotting over and kissing him on the forehead.

“I’m aces,” Phillip said, grimacing in pain. “Doc was just saying that I’m going to be laid up for a bit.”

“Thankfully, none of the shrapnel went into your arteries or into your bones,” the doctor stated, checking the x-ray scans on her clipboard. “You won’t need surgery, but we’ll have to keep you in here to clean out the wounds, give you antibiotics and check for signs of blast injuries or infection.”

“And what about Buzz?” Phillip asked.

The doctor frowned at her notes for a moment. “Your friend is still in surgery,” she admitted. “Doctor Asclepius is leading the operation, but it’s not looking good, I’m afraid.” She sighed. “You know, he probably saved all of your lives.”

Phillip and Daring both stared at the bandaged leg, feeling as though some great weight had settled in their stomachs. The sound and impact of the blast struck them again, and Buzz’s screams echoed in their ears.

“I’ll be back later to start the debridement,” the doctor said, exiting. “If you experience any chest pain or difficulty breathing, press the call button immediately, all right?”

“Right-o,” Phillip nodded dumbly as the doctor left.

“You find the van?” Phillip asked.

“I did, but it was empty,” Daring stated. “Didn’t find much useful, no trace of them left. But the driver had a thing for cashews, looked like.”

Phillip nodded. “That’s something, at least.”

“Hey, Phil!” Flash called, trotting into the room with Red strolling in behind. He stared at the injured limb in white-faced shock. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Phillip said.

“Of course you are,” Red said, his dry tone belying the tiny smile of relief on his face. “Like an amateur pipe bomb would be enough to get you two out of my mane.”

“Fuck you too,” Phil said with a grin before returning to seriousness. He gave them a rundown of what had happened.

“So the secretary was the traitor,” Red mused. “Guess that losing her brother stung a bit.”

“That doesn’t give her an excuse to become a murderer,” Flash growled. “I’ll put an APB out on her, then we can check the rental about that van.”

“There’s something else,” Phillip said. “Betting that the other killers are associated with Highlight’s brother, Golden Standard. It might be the stallion with the twisted knee, and they’re probably good with explosives, too.”

“Detective Matchstick and Suunkii are already working the bombing scene,” Flash stated. “We heard over the radio, that’s why we came here. If there are any clues, they’ll find them.”

“I’ll start asking around the rehab place that Prowl mentioned,” Daring said. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

“We’d help, but we’re following up on another case,” Red grumbled. “For Signor Dorata.”

“And I think it might be connected with these murders,” Flash pointed out, relating what the businesspony had told them.

“Interesting,” Phillip mused. “But I don’t think they’re directly connected. If Sweet Tart’s killers were after her and her colleagues, they would’ve just stopped with her, not go after other changelings.”

“We’re still looking for any other leads with him,” Flash stated, rubbing his mane. “Just wish I knew what they wanted with her.”

“Let me deal with these guys,” Daring growled. “I want these bastards myself.”

Red and Flash both studied her for a moment, then mutely nodded.

The doctor bustled back in with a rolling tray loaded with foul-smelling potions and cleaning materials, including a selection of scalpels. “Detectives, please clear the room,” she ordered. “I need to start getting his wounds cleaned out.”

“I’ll find them for you,” Daring promised Phil, squeezing his hoof briefly.

“I know,” he nodded back, his gray eyes reflecting the cold anger that she felt.

As Daring exited with Red and Flash, she passed by a set of double doors marked “Surgery.” As she watched, a doctor rushed through, tugging a mask over her face.

“He’s shapeshifting back!” she heard Asclepius’ voice call from inside, muffled through doors and walls. “He’s burning up love energy, he needs to feed!”

She briefly heard raised voices before the doors slammed shut again. Daring growled to herself and found her hoof rising up to stroke the idol of Awely-Awely. The cool, carved wood was strangely comforting to her touch, centering her as though she were pouring some of her rage into the idol.

“You okay?” Flash asked.

Daring just grunted and stalked for the exit. She had work to do.

The van rental hadn’t turned up much: just a vague description of a blue earth pony stallion who had ordered the rental over the phone that morning and paid in coin, giving a generic name that Daring doubted was real.

She had better luck speaking to the patients at the Easy Transitions, a large clinic in the Everfree District that specialized in treating injuries sustained by soldiers and emergency responders. When she mentioned Golden Standard’s name, she met a few ponies who knew him and his sister.

“He was in the 119th Army Battalion, same as me,” the mare with the eyepatch had told her. “But his squadron was almost wiped out by changelings in an ambush in ‘44: they imitated the officers and led them away from the rest of the battalion to finish them off. Killed all but three of them, Golden Standard included.” She paused and shifted nervously in her seat, casting her remaining blue eye about.

“One of the only survivors...he’s the pony you’re looking for,” she admitted quietly. “His name is Blasting Cap. Explosives expert. He came back with a badly twisted leg...but his mind was the most broken part. Ranted about how all changelings were monsters, that they all deserved to die, and anyone who associated with them was filth. When King Thorax and Prince Pharynx made a treaty with the Princesses in late ‘46, he started to really isolate himself. Stopped coming to groups, to the clinic, started smoking those disgusting Golden Camel cigarettes. Hell, I don’t think I’ve seen him in over a year.”

"Description?" Daring pressed.

"Unicorn, little over four foot. Gray coat, red and yellow mane, blue eyes. Cutie mark of a firecracker." The mare paused for a moment, her single eye narrowing in thought. "Last time I saw him, he was growing a beard. Big bushy one, made me think of paintings of Rockhoof."

“Where is he?” Daring asked.

“Last I knew, he lived in a tenement on Lily,” the mare replied. “Maybe you’ll find something there.”

When Daring got up to leave, the mare had called after her. “Hey, be careful, detective. Blasting Cap may have a gimp leg, but he knew more about explosives than any pony I’ve ever known. If he’s willing to blow up a doctor’s office, he’s willing to do anything.”

And so, on that note, Daring had soon found herself walking up the steps of a small brownstone apartment building and pushing through the front door. A quick examination of the mailboxes provided her target’s location: Blasting Cap’s name was scrawled beneath number seven.

She headed up the staircase covered in a formerly green carpet and rapped sharply at the door with the number 7 nailed to it in iron lettering.

To her complete lack of surprise, there was no answer.

“Blasting Cap!” she barked, hammering on the door.

“He’s not here, ma’am,” a stallion reported from the stairs. The short turquoise earth pony with a white mane and wave cutie mark was carrying a bag of groceries in his mouth.

“You his neighbor?” Daring asked.

“Yes’m,” the stallion answered, placing his bag of groceries on the floor in front of door number eight and digging a hoof through his saddlebag, extracting his key after a few moments of struggling. “Name’s Watershed. Been living here some two-odd years now.”

“You know where Blasting Cap is?” Daring asked.

“Nope,” Watershed shrugged as he unlocked the door, licking his lips. “He and I don’t hang out that much.”

He started to pick up his bag, but the flimsy paper tore and some of the items spilled out. “Ah, damn,” he grumbled, scrambling to pick up his groceries.

“Here,” Daring offered, bending to pick up some of the items.

“Thanks,” Watershed nodded, gratefully taking the items.

“You ever hear him talk about hangouts?” Daring pressed. “Know anypony who visited him?”

“No,” Watershed said slowly, concern creasing across his face. He licked his lips again and swallowed “Is...he in trouble?”

Daring started to make a comment about how his neighbor had blown up a doctor’s office and nearly killed her and Phillip, but something tugged at the back of her mind. She glanced down at one of the cans in her hoof.

The label read “Assorted Nuts” and displayed cashews and peanuts on the cover.

Play it smooth, Daring. Poker face.

“I just want to ask him some questions,” she said as she handed Watershed the can, noting his short legs and remembering how close the getaway van driver’s seat had been to the pedals, how the mirrors had been angled downward, as if for a short pony.

“Okay, then,” Watershed nodded, taking the last of his groceries from her and giving her a rather forced smile. “If I hear from him, I’ll let you know.” He stepped inside his room and closed the door, keeping his eyes on Daring the entire time.

Alone in the hallway, Daring studied Blasting Cap’s door, considering her next move. That lock sure was tempting…

That won’t help. Without a good reason to go in there, anything you find in there will just get kicked out, and he’ll be free to kill more ponies.

“Stupid laws,” Daring grumbled to herself, kicking at a loose bit of trash on the floor, only to freeze when she realized that the little scrap of flattened cardboard was a crushed carton of Golden Camel cigarettes.

An idea sparked in Daring's mind. Dashing through the front door, she headed to the alley behind the building and spotted a dumpster with the lid open. Sprinting up, she looked into the assorted trash bags. She was lucky; it must’ve been trash day recently, because the dumpster wasn’t even a third full.

One bag was partially open, revealing several crushed cartons of Golden Camel, the heavily perfumed scent instantly reminding Daring of the abandoned van. Grinning, Daring clambered into the dumpster and hauled the bag out, spilling its contents out onto the asphalt. Most of Blasting Cap’s trash was more cartons of foul-smelling cigarettes and discarded food, but like an archeologist searching through silt for ancient remnants, Daring slowly searched for clues.

One item stood out to her like a gold coin amidst the mud: a receipt from a local hardware store. Blasting Cap had used store credit to pay for a length of black pipe, hacksaw blades, cold packs, and bags of charcoal.

The window smashed before Daring’s gaze again, and the heavy black pipe thudded to the floor, sparks shooting from the fuse. She shuddered and shook her head, fighting off the memory.

Charcoal...and you can make saltpeter from cold packs, Daring thought. Two of the ingredients in gunpowder.

“Gotcha,” Daring smirked, pocketing the clue.

“Uh…”

Daring looked up to see a sanitation worker staring at her, head cocked to one side. She stared for a moment, her eyes darting back down to the pile of trash in front of her. “Sorry,” she said with a nervous grin and flapped off before the worker could say anything.

Cold Case chewed on the stem of her meerschaum pipe, slowly passing it from one side of her mouth to the other as she studied the receipt. Spread across the desk before her were photographs from Asclepius’ office and the getaway van.

“You really are Phillip’s partner,” she admitted, giving Daring a ghost of a smile over the assembled evidence.

“Is it enough to get a warrant?” Daring pressed, tapping one hoof against the carpeted floor.

“Yes,” Cold nodded. “I’ll get this submitted to Judge Gavel. He’ll issue a warrant for Blasting Cap’s arrest and to search his home.”

“And what about his neighbor, Watershed?” Daring asked, tapping a record sheet amidst the mess of papers. Watershed’s record amounted to a disorderly conduct charge for smashing a store window while participating in an anti-changeling protest in 1946, for which he had served and completed a five-month suspended sentence. The latent rage in the stallion’s face emanating from his mug shot was almost alien from the pony that Daring had met.

“I think it would be wiser to watch him rather than try to arrest him right away,” Cold stated. “If he is involved with Cap, he’ll have to lead us to him sooner or later.”

“Fair enough,” Daring nodded, feeling as though something was squirming beneath her chest. She looked at the other record: Golden Highlight’s photograph stared coldly back at her, plastered over a list of drunk and disorderly charges from 1944. A part of her pitied the mourning sister for her pain, but it didn’t excuse what she’d done.

“And we’ll need to warn all of Asclepius’ clients,” Daring added. “I’m guessing that his records don’t show who is and is not a changeling, so they’ll be going after all of them.”

“Yes: Doctor Asclepius already sent over a list of patients,” Cold nodded, gesturing at a long list on her desk. “Could I ask you to do that, please?”

Daring blinked. Did...she just say please?

“Okay,” she said, taking the list herself and mentally noting the addresses.

“Thank you,” Cold Case said. “Between the bombing, looking for Cap, Dorata, and everything else, we’re…”

Cold blinked, then sagged in exhaustion, letting out a low moan and lowering her face onto her hoof. “We’re short-staffed,” she admitted quietly. “After the Whitestone-Zugzwang war, and when Zugzwang turned into that…thing...”

Both mares shivered as ghosts of cold black eyes danced before their eyes.

“We’ve lost so much,” Cold said quietly. She sniffed once, then took in a breath and exhaled it in a puff of cinnamon-scented smoke, shaking herself out of her reverie.

“I will have that warrant ready by tomorrow morning,” she declared, fixing Daring with a gaze as intense as a winter storm. “If I learn of anything else, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you,” Daring nodded.

The phone on Cold’s desk rang and she snatched it up. “Chief Case,” she stated.

The voice on the other end spoke indistinctly. “Yes,” Cold replied, her shoulders tensing up. The squirming thing in Daring’s chest suddenly felt extremely cold and heavy.

A few moments later, Cold’s shoulders slowly slumped. “I see,” she nodded, her tone still cold and even, but a glimmer of relief in her blue eyes. Daring let out the breath that she hadn’t even known she was holding.

But then Cold blinked and her shoulders rose a little again as she listened more. “I see,” she said after a minute. She listened in silence for a few more long moments, then finally nodded. “Thank you for letting me know. Goodbye,” she said and hung up. Once the receiver was back in its cradle, she placed her hoof on her face and let out a long sigh.

“Phil?” Daring asked.

“He’s all right,” Cold reported, looking up. “There was no serious damage and he was sent home...against his doctor’s wishes,” she added with a weary smile and a small shake of her head. “I understand his mother is a medicine mare.”

Daring sighed in relief. “Yeah, that’s Phil, all right,” she chuckled. “But what was the other part?”

Cold’s face fell into severe lines once more. “Buzz is still in the hospital,” she reported. “He is in a coma after he transformed while under surgery. They have to keep feeding him love, but...Doctor Asclepius is not confident.”

Daring felt like her heart was sinking into her stomach and she found it hard to swallow. Buzz had risked his life fighting the mob last year, had given them the key to arrest Monopoly, and start Silvertongue’s downfall. Without his help, Ponyville might still be in the grip of organized crime. For him to die like this…

She growled to herself. “We’re gonna find that bastard,” she declared to Cold.

“We will,” Cold replied, pulling out a typewriter. “I need to get in touch with Judge Gavel. Hopefully, he’s awake by now.”

“I’ll get to work on this,” Daring said, snatching up the list and photographs of their three suspects: Blasting Cap, Watershed, and Golden Highlight. “Mind if I use your window?”

Cold gestured to one of the massive windows behind her. Daring opened up the latch on one of them and slid it up enough to climb out, diving out into the warm afternoon air. As she checked the list for the nearest target, her heart jumped into her throat.

“Doctor Suunkii, Sirba, and Muziqaa. 1273 Golden Oak Street.”

Author's Note

A lot happens in a short amount of time! But I'm sure that with time, Phil and Daring will get a leg up!

Ow! Sorry, Phil.

Apologies for this being late, I was offline all day.

Like what you read? Leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Sixteen, Chapter Four: Rest and Regain

Daring landed before the two-story blue cottage and rapped at the door. “Sirba!” she called.

She heard movement inside and the door opened, revealing a perplexed zebra mare, her long snowy hair decorated with multicolored beads. “There’s no need to break down my door,” Sirba said. “There’s trouble on your face, but what for?”

“Where’s Muziqaa?” Daring asked.

She was answered by a black and white cannonball rocketing out the door and slamming into her chest hard enough to knock her back and drive the wind from her lungs. “Hi, Aunt Daring!” Muziqaa chirped, beaming up at her from his hug. “Wanna see my new trick? It's for the show we're doing later this afternoon at the Ponyville Theater!”

“Not now, kid,” Daring said, gently pulling the colt off her and setting him back down on the ground. “I just needed to drop by and speak to your mom real quick.”

Muziqaa stared up at her with wide eyes. “Is…” He swallowed, his tail trembling so hard that the beads woven into the strands produced a low rattling. “Is it back?” he whispered.

“No, no,” Daring replied, patting Muziqaa on the head. “That thing is dead, okay? This is something different.”

“Okay,” Muziqaa nodded, but still looked scared.

“You both go to Doctor Asclepius?” Daring asked. Both zebras nodded. “Well…” Daring sighed. “I’m gonna be straight with you. He’s a changeling.”

Muziqaa gasped. “Really?”

“Really,” Daring nodded. “But he’s not a bad--”

“Cool!” Muziqaa chirped, brightening.

Sirba tilted her head to the side. “This is assuredly a surprise,” she mused. “But is this why you come to advise?”

“No,” Daring said. She swallowed and glanced down at Muziqaa again.

Faust help me, he’s eight years old. No kid deserves this, she thought.

He has to know anyway, the logical part of her brain coldly replied.

“Um...there are some killers out there,” she said. “They’re hunting Asclepius’ clients because they think they’re all changelings.”

Sirba gasped and instinctively pulled her son towards her. “What must we do?” she asked.

“Keep an eye out for these ponies,” Daring said, pulling the photos of the three suspects and holding them up for examination. “And if you see or hear anything suspicious, let us know immediately. Might be a good idea to get that Neighringer out again.”

Sirba nodded, her face grim. “We will be careful and aware, and may the spirits watch us with care. There is no time to waste, you must catch them posthaste!”

“We will,” Daring promised, turning away and spreading her wings to lift off. “I need to go warn his other patients.”

“Wait, Aunt Daring!”

Daring paused in the midst of her takeoff and turned back just in time to receive another, slightly softer black and white cannonball to the chest. “Oof!” she grunted, stumbling slightly and giving Muziqaa a scowl. “What was that for?”

“I thought you needed a hug,” Muziqaa replied, looking up at her with concern in his green irides.

Daring stared at him for a moment, then sighed and put an arm around the colt, hugging him to her chest and placing her chin on top of his head. “Thanks, kid,” she sighed, closing her eyes. She heard hoofsteps approach and then Sirba was pressing her forehead against hers, humming quietly and gently shaking her head so that the beads in her mane produced a low rattling like gentle rain on the rooftop. Peace settled over Daring like a blanket, and the stress that had been writhing in her chest settled for a second that she wished she could pocket and carry with her.

With a heavy reluctance, Daring opened her eyes and gently pried Muziqaa off her and set him down on the ground. “I gotta go,” she said, turning and flying away. As she soared to the next address, she glanced back to see the zebras waving goodbye at her. Beneath the masks of their smiles, she saw the worry etched into their expressions.

She sucked in a breath through her teeth and pushed herself faster.

Only red slivers of the sun were showing above the horizon by the time Daring finally arrived home at 221 Honeybee Bakery Street. She landed on the doorstep with a low groan of exhaustion, her wings sagging in fatigue. Extracting her key from her vest, she unlocked the front door. The purple wards flared briefly as she opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door and latching it behind her as she tossed her pith helmet and holster onto the hanger.

The sound of music, two voices singing and the droning of a didgeridoo, guided her to the living room. When Daring entered, she saw Phillip was facedown on the sofa. Rain was sitting next to him, massaging his injured leg and side; wound around his limb was a cord holding a strand of Rain’s mane to his leg, and a paste that sweetly smelled of herbs and spices covered his burns. Rain was singing in her native language, a chant that rolled through the air like a gentle stream, running over Daring to wash away some of her exhaustion and stress; Phillip, who had his eyes shut in contentment, occasionally joined in on the refrain. His recitation was a tad clumsy, the pronunciation rough from lack of practice, but the happiness behind it was genuine.

A circle of salt surrounded the pair. Sitting outside it was Bobby, his lips pressed against his wife’s didgeridoo, letting out a constant droning sound to back up the healing song. He smiled and winked at Daring as she entered.

Daring sat down and watched in fascination as the medicine mare worked her magic. Even as she watched, the burns on Phillip’s coat were already fading. The music rolled over her like the notes were actually physically massaging her and a smile spread across her face.

The song ended, the last notes hanging in the air for a few moments before gently disappearing. “There,” Rain said, kissing her son on the back of his head. “That better, ampa?”

“Aces,” Phillip said, stretching. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re welcome,” Rain smiled, giving his limb a final pat. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to practice.”

“This isn’t a scraped knee or a bruise, but that helps a lot,” Phillip replied, sitting back up.

“What’d you use for the ointment?” Daring asked. “I remember reading about Aborigineigh culture some time ago, but I don’t think we have any native Aushaylian plants up here.”

“I carry some herbs with me as a force of habit,” Rain replied. “Some emu bush leaves mixed with local honey and cloves made do.”

“How did you become a…” Daring paused, struggling to remember the word from the library book that she’d read so many years ago. “Ngangkari?”

“I was born into the tradition; the spirits clearly blessed me with the gift for it,” Rain replied. “My mother taught me the ways of the spirits, just as her father had taught her.” She smiled wistfully as she rubbed out the salt circle with a pick-up tool. The soft snap of dissipating magic tingled across Daring’s wings. “I think grandpa was expecting me to marry a respectable Aborigineigh and give him plenty of grandchildren that he could raise in the Outback, just like the purer days.”

“Instead, you fell in love with a trumpet-playing bogan boxer,” Bobby grinned, squeezing his wife from behind.

Rain giggled and leaned her head against her husband’s chest. “And we produced a wonderful son who grew up to be a hero.”

“I’d say we did pretty well,” Bobby smiled and enthusiastically kissed his wife, who responded with equal passion. Phillip responded with a good-natured groan of faux disgust, rolling his eyes.

“And one day, our son and his wonderful wife give us some beautiful grandfoals that we’ll get to teach everything we know,” Bobby added with a cheeky smirk at the other two ponies.

“Daaad,” Phillip grumbled, his ears turning red.

“Okay, enough sappy stuff,” Daring stated, returning herself to seriousness. She told them what had happened since the bombing.

“Smart, watching Watershed,” Phillip nodded, looking over the borrowed files on their three suspects that Daring had borrowed. “Worries me what they’re up to now.”

“If they tried to blow up a doctor’s office, there’s no telling what they’ll do next,” Rain murmured with a slight shiver.

“I’ve already warned all of the other patients,” Daring replied.

Phillip’s jaw clenched perceptibly and he glanced over at a framed photograph on the wall, one of the few pictures decorating the room. The picture had been taken that spring, in the backyard of Suunkii’s home. Clustered in the photograph was Twilight, Spike atop her shoulders, and Doctor Mortis next to them, beaming at the camera while she held a skull up next to her with her magic.

Behind them was Phillip, Daring on his left, Suunkii and Sirba on his right. Muziqaa was sitting on Phillip’s head, his trilby perched atop his head: the hat was too large for the giggling colt, sliding down over his eyes.

Daring stared at the photo as well and swallowed, her stomach dropping like she’d swallowed a rock. “They’ll be fine, Phil,” she said, trying to convince herself that she believed the words as well. “So, what were you doing all day?”

“Suun sent over some evidence for me to take a second look at,” Phillip nodded at his experiment table, which was littered with bags with paper tags, test tubes, and a microscope with a slide carrying a small smear of dirt loaded into the tray. “Did find one interesting thing. Faint soil samples found in the getaway van. But what puzzles me is that the soil doesn’t come from the Everfree District.”

“Where does it come from?” Daring asked.

Phillip shrugged. “Not sure. Traces of calcium, limestone, goethite, and magnesium...but those could’ve been samples from almost anywhere in the city.” He shook his head, barely stifling a yawn. “I’m bloody stuffed,” he mumbled. “I’ve been working ever since I got home, and feels like I’ve been running around in circles.”

Daring sighed. “So we’re basically stuck waiting,” she grumbled.

“There are officers searching all night long for those monsters,” Rain soothed, wheeling over to Daring and rubbing her shoulders gently. “You warned all of their victims and they know to be careful. You’re both tired and have had a long day. It’d be best if you just got some rest.”

“Can’t fight crime without sleep,” Bobby added with a sage nod.

Daring sighed, trying to ignore how heavy her head felt, how her eyelids kept drooping shut, and how relaxing Rain’s massage was as she rubbed her shoulders and wings. “I appreciate the thought, guys, but I don’t know how I’m going to…”

She blinked and realized that she was stretched across a large red pony’s back, bouncing slightly against him as he climbed up the stairs. She heard Phillip mumble something and Rain respond with a giggle. Daring tried to protest that she wasn’t a baby but somehow couldn’t muster the effort to speak.

When she blinked again, she realized that she was in bed, with a familiar set of forelegs wrapped around her and warm breath brushing against her ear as Phillip quietly snored. She also felt the warmth of a mother’s kiss on her forehead.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall asleep with a contented sigh.

When she opened her eyes again, she and Phillip were laying in a grassy plain, the cool grass gently tickling her skin. Above them, twinkling stars danced through the purple sky and dozens of chimes softly rang from the trees around them.

“What troubles you tonight, detectives?”

“Changelings, Your Highness,” Phillip reported, sitting up and facing the Princess of the Night. Luna was laying in the grass a few feet away, regarding them with her gentle blue irides.

“Indeed,” Luna nodded. “We heard about the murders. Tell me, what headway have you made?”

Phillip and Luna were both silent for a moment, regarding one another, then Daring sighed. “We found out who’s responsible for it, but they’re in the wind. And…”

She and Phillip both shuddered, and for a moment, the sky was red and reeked of cordite. The roar of an explosion made the chimes clang discordantly and the echo of a scream shook the air.

“Hush, hush,” Luna soothed them, banishing the sounds and smells with a glimmer of magic. “It’s just a dream.”

Daring took a slow, shaky breath, held it for a moment, then slowly let it out, pushing her fear and stress into the wind. “Yeah, yeah,” she nodded.

“What happened?” Luna asked, her head tilted in concern.

“A...friend of ours. A changeling,” Phillip replied. “There was a bomb. He took the blast for us. He’s alive, but…” He let out a quiet groan and mopped his face.

“Take faith, my friends,” Luna replied. “I am certain that your friend will survive.”

“I’ll find them,” Phillip growled, gritting his teeth as he lowered his hoof. “I’ll find the wankers and make them pay.”

The skies darkened for a moment and distant thunder rumbled as a cold, harsh wind blew in. Luna looked up at the sky, a shadow of confusion crossing her face for a moment.

“‘Tis good that you are focusing your rage into finding the culprits,” she said. “But I worry that you are not allowing yourselves to process your emotions.”

“Luna, we appreciate the concern,” Phillip said. “But we’re…”

Luna raised an eyebrow at him. Phillip paused, glanced at Daring, then sighed. “Bugger it. Okay, we’re not fine,” he admitted, sitting down. “It hurt. Seeing Buzz hurt. Not being able to help him. Being laid up with this fucking leg injury. Knowing that somewhere out there, there are murderers stalking my best mate’s family and I don’t know how to stop them.”

“I’ve always been the point mare,” Daring said. “The one who flew in to get the job done. Sitting back and waiting...it made me antsy, always. Because it felt like...I wasn’t in control. And having to wait for the bad guys to make a move…” She grimaced. “I feel like I’m just waiting for another body to turn up in the alley, and then it’s gonna be too late to do anything for them. What if it’s Buzz? What if it’s Suunkii or Sirba or Muzi?” She sighed and kicked at the dirt, hissing as the cursed brand burned at the flesh of her right hoof. “Damn this thing!” she yelled, glaring at the mark on her flesh.

“Here,” Luna said, lighting up her horn. An indigo glow covered Daring’s hoof and the pain faded away. Daring sighed in relief and nodded.

“Another stallion that I have seen recently once said that you told him that everypony gets scared, even you,” Luna continued with a small smile. “‘Tis easy to allow yourself to fall into self-defeating anger, feeling impotent against the world. I know this well.”

“Really?” Daring asked. “Most ponies think you and Celestia are basically gods.”

Luna looked up at the starry sky above them. “My sister and I are over nine hundred years old,” she mused. “We can command the sun and the moon and have the power to level cities if we wish. I walk through the realm of dreams as nopony has before. Yet I know better than anypony that no matter how many ponies nightmares I soothe, no matter how many fears I abate, there are dozens, hundreds more that I cannot reach. More than once, at my worst, I have wondered what is the point of trying.”

She paused and smiled warmly back at them. “Then I remind myself that I can make a difference to who I can help. The world is always much larger than you, my friends, and much darker than you’d like to think. You cannot fight the world, and trying to will only frighten and tire you. Focus instead on what you can affect.”

“Which, for us, is trying to find the bastards who did this,” Daring said. “But again, how? We’ve run through most of our leads and came up with nothing.”

“Perhaps an outside perspective will help,” Luna offered. “Tell me what you know. What of this first victim?”

“Sweet Tart,” Phillip recited. “A baker. They ambushed her last evening and took her somewhere to torture and kill.”

“Flash mentioned earlier that she might have been involved with some ponies who were stalking Signor Dorata,” Luna added. “For what purpose, he is not sure.”

“Oh, yeah, the rich dude,” Daring nodded. “Practically forgot about him.”

“No, these seem to be completely different ponies,” Phillip shook his head. “The ponies she was working with were not the ones who…”

He trailed off, his eyes widening, then he smacked himself on the forehead with a hoof. “Bloody hell, we’ve been complete idiots! Too focused on these wankers to see what was right in front of us!”

Daring blinked in realization. “You’re right, you’re right! We should’ve seen it from the start!”

Luna smiled and nodded. “I am glad to see you inspired.”

The wind picked up, the chimes in the trees singing out loudly. “Our time grows short,” Luna stated, spreading her wings and flying up into the star-streaked dome. “I will see you again, my friends. I wish you good hunting.”

“Princess, wait!” Daring called.

Luna paused and looked down at her. Daring paused, then raised her right hoof, displaying the cursed brand.

“We are still working on it,” Luna replied, landing before Daring and placing a hoof over her withers. “I am sorry, Daring Do. But you must wait a little longer.”

Daring frowned and looked down, a low groan of frustration escaping her throat. “We will find a way to break the spell, Daring,” Luna promised, pressing her forehead against Daring’s for a moment.

Daring just grunted as Phillip approached and hugged her tight, placing his chin atop her head. She nestled against his chest as Luna departed with a flap of wings.

The next morning was a sunny day, a cool wind running in from the northwest. The brown and red leaves in the oak trees that lined Steel Street shuddered in the wind, a few leaves detaching and slowly drifting to the ground.

Red yawned as he turned up the road, studying the expensive chateaus and bungalows along the road, darkened windows staring down imperiously at the intrusive car. “You had a bee in your ass this morning, Flash,” he commented to his passenger.

“I can’t believe that I didn’t think of it earlier!” Flash said, staring at their target as it drew closer. Number 77 was a golden two-story bungalow, the porch decorated with crystalline charms and wind chimes that glistened and danced slowly in the wind and sun, emitting quiet ringing music. A burnished silver Rottaler-Royce Specter was parked in the driveway.

Red pulled up to the curb and parked, the two detectives exiting and crossing the pristine grass to the steps. “You feel underdressed for this?” Red commented, turning up the collar of his coat and glancing back at his car. The dull, weatherbeaten Diplomat stood out against the gilded neighborhood like a coffee stain spilled upon a classical portrait.

“If we hurry, we might be able to get out of here before you get towed,” Flash smirked at his partner, pulling a folder out of his suit.

The two pegasi marched up to the door and rapped sharply. After a few moments, the door opened. A clay-red female griffon wearing a charcoal gray suit stuck her head out the door. Flash and Red’s eyes immediately went to the .45 automatic in her shoulder holster.

“Can I help you gentleponies?” she asked, her dark blue eyes studying the two.

“Detectives Herring and Sentry,” Red replied, flashing his badge for her inspection. “We need to speak to Mister Dorata.”

The bodyguard looked them both over for a moment, then nodded and stepped inside. “Signor Dorata is inside. One moment, gentleponies.”

The griffon stepped outside, pulling a wand that glowed with a faint blue aura out of one pocket and sweeping it over Red. The wand turned red and let out a loud chirp as it passed over his chest.

“That’s just my sidearm,” Red replied, opening his jacket to reveal the Filly M1912. Flash did likewise with his coat to reveal his weapon. “No, it’s not because we’re happy to see you,” Red added with a small smirk.

The griffon’s beak twitched as she suppressed a smile, then proceeded with her examination. The only anomalies she found were the detectives’ sidearms. “Good,” she nodded, tucking the security wand away. “Come, I will show you to Signor Dorata.”

The bodyguard led them into the house, proceeding through a hallway lined with paintings of snowy landscapes and into a great sitting room. Chairs with gold and white cushions surrounded a gilded coffee table.

Alba Dorata was sitting in one chair, lifting a cup of tea and saucer up to his lips with his magic. Sitting across from him on a large couch was his guest, leaning back in the cushions with a salve-covered bandage wrapped around his left hind leg.

“G’day, mates,” Phillip nodded to Red and Flash as they entered. “See you had the same idea I did.”

“Grazie, Ryder,” Alba nodded to the bodyguard, who nodded and took up position at the door. “Please, sit, detectives. What was this idea you were mentioning?”

“We believe that the ponies who were stalking you were working with a changeling,” Flash advised as he and Red sat down next to Phillip. “We think that they were planning on abducting you and having the changeling impersonate you.”

“By the ancestors,” Dorata breathed, reaching beneath his shirt and pulling out a small crystal charm, which he kissed. “‘Tis good I came to you, then!”

“You needn’t worry,” Red commented. “The changeling they were going to use is dead. That, and you’ve got her around.” He nodded to Ryder, whose beak twitched upward briefly.

“Oh, well...that’s good news, I suppose,” Alba nodded, taking another sip of the strong-smelling tea within his cup before delicately setting the cup and saucer back onto the table.

“You said you haven’t seen them since yesterday?” Phillip pressed.

“No,” Alba shook his head. “I was able to hire Ryder and her colleagues yesterday from a security agency my assistant suggested.”

Red shot Ryder a look. “That wouldn’t have happened to be Cerberus, would it?” he asked with a growl around his edges.

Ryder rolled her eyes. “Please. Cerberus’ mercs were marginally better than a bunch of trained monkeys. My team and I are from Steel Security.”

“Never heard of you,” Red commented.

“We’re more popular up north, in the Crystal Empire,” Ryder explained. “After Cerberus was finally dismantled earlier this summer, we’ve started to make more ground down south; we have an office nearby now, that’s where Signor Dorata contracted us from.” She fished a business card out of her suit and handed it to Red. “It’s all legitimate. You can check us all out.”

“We will,” Red replied, studying the card with the embossed emblem of a steel padlock and a blue crystalline key. “And who are your colleagues?”

“Chaser will be taking over at three o’clock,” Ryder said. “Tailwind has the night shift. They’re currently sleeping upstairs if you want to talk to them.”

“Thank you,” Phillip nodded, turning back to Alba. “So, walk me through your route to work.”

“I start here and drive straight to North Star via Ore Avenue…” Alba outlined his daily travel routine, outlining his travel to work at eight in the morning, his penchant for walking to a nearby market at noon to find lunch before returning to North Star Investments, then coming back home by five o’clock.

“I do not normally entertain visitors, unfortunately,” he commented in response to a question. “I have never had much interest in dating.”

“Hmm,” Phillip mused. “Those are all well-traveled routes. Area around that market is public. They likely wouldn’t try there.”

“I agree,” Flash nodded.

Alba swallowed, the cup of tea rattling slightly in its dish as his magical grip upon it trembled. “Then I am relatively safe, si?”

A flash of golden light and he was in the room, smiling that damned fixed smile, black eyes fixing on him like holes in the world. The blade snapped out from beneath his sleeve with a click as the jaw locked open impossibly wide, tar bubbling up to his lips…

“We...have to consider every possibility,” Phillip said, taking a slow breath, holding it for a moment, then exhaling slowly, brushing away the specter like sand before the wind. “Recommend you pack lunch for the time being instead of the market.”

“Agreed,” Ryder declared.

“Very well,” Alba nodded. “Shall I show you how my house is secured?”

“Ripper,” Phillip said, getting up and stretching. He took a step and just barely managed to hide a wince as a stab of pain ran up his wounded leg. Flash rose as well, giving Phillip a brief look. Phillip raised his hoof briefly and gave a small smile that he hoped didn’t look like a grimace.

“Most of these measures I had already installed when I first moved to Ponyville early this year,” Alba said, gesturing first to the windows. “Here: these windows are double-laminated bulletproof glass and the locks cannot be magically picked from outside.”

“That must’ve cost a lot,” Red commented.

“You have no idea,” Alba admitted. “Come, let us see the rest of the house.”

Alba’s bungalow proved to be well-protected. Every window was reinforced and could not be picked from the outside. All of the locks were charmed against picking, and every door and window was connected to a top-notch alarm system; if a window was smashed or a keycode entered into a panel in the sitting room within thirty seconds of the front door being opened, the shrill alarm would alert the neighborhood and a silent message would be sent to the police precinct.

“I already had him change the code for this,” Ryder reported, nodding to the numbered keys on the wall. “Only the four of us know it.” She cocked an eyebrow at Red. “No, I’m not going to tell you.”

“Shucks,” Red said with pretend disappointment.

“Do you wish to meet the other two bodyguards?” Alba asked.

“Why not?” Red asked.

They proceeded upstairs and met the other two bodyguards in the guest room: Chaser, a gray griffon with red-tipped plumage, was currently flipping through a magazine while disassembling and reassembling her sidearm, while the green and white Tailwind was awoken from a nap to be interviewed.

“Mister Dorata hired us yesterday morning, right after he came to you, I guess,” Chaser shrugged, still assembling her Steel and Easton without looking at it. “He briefed us on everything, so we’ve been keeping an eye out in particular for a green unicorn and a yellow earth pony. Haven’t seen anypony suspicious so far, though.”

“Will say this, though,” Tailwind said through a yawn. “Easiest job I’ve been on in ages.”

“Don’t slack off, Tail,” Ryder scolded her partner.

“I’m not on the clock, boss,” Tail replied. “Can I get back to sleep now?”

“Fine,” Flash said, scribbling down some notes in a notepad. “Sorry to interrupt, sir.”

“Nah, you’re just doing your job,” Tail murmured, laying back down on the large bed and closing his eyes.

“Anything else?” Alba asked as they headed back downstairs.

“Basement,” Phillip replied.

Alba blinked. “I...very well, then.”

He showed them down a set of stairs to a large, unfurnished basement. The thin, windowless walls that shaped the rooms were painted plain white, and the flagstone floor was bare. The lights were a cold white, illuminating the only occupants of the basement: file cabinets and boxes of information, old clothes, and furniture, and decorations that had been packed away.

“I don’t see why you wanted to see the basement,” Alba commented, watching as Phillip trotted around, moving in and out of the three rooms, his eyes darting into every corner.

Phillip tapped the stone floor with a frown, staring at the slate square as if he could see right through to the dirt beneath, then nodded. “Ripper. I’ve seen enough,” he declared, heading back upstairs.

“Er...cosa? What did you see?” Alba asked, watching him go back with a slack jaw.

“Trust us, he’s a professional,” Red commented dryly, following Phillip upstairs.

“We’ll find the ponies who are stalking you, sir,” Flash assured a baffled Alba Dorata as they returned to the front hallway. “Let us know if anything unusual happens.”

“Don’t worry, detectives: we won’t let anything happen to him,” Ryder stated heavily, giving them a nod as they exited.

The three stallions headed down the front yard to the car, which was still where it was parked. “Where’s Daring?” Flash asked Phillip.

“Keeping an eye on Watershed,” Phillip replied. “Can you give me a lift back to the precinct? Need to check a theory.”

“Yeah, sure,” Red replied.

“What are you thinking?” Flash asked.

“I might know how to find these drongos,” Phillip replied with a smirk as he crawled into the backseat of the Diplomat.

Daring adjusted her glasses as she strolled across the street, her head bowed low so that the sunhat covered her face, shielding her from the sun. A car honked at her irately, prompting her to pick up the pace as she reached the sidewalk.

There was her target; a red-brown unicorn mare, her blonde mane spilling out beneath her fedora as she leaned against the bus stop kiosk, playing with a book of matches floating in a red aura.

“Matchstick,” Daring greeted the mare as she approached.

“Daring,” the arson detective nodded, striking a match and watching the flame sputter in the air. “Nice dress.”

Daring frowned and pulled at the long dress that covered her flanks. “Dressed up just for a special occasion like this one,” she deadpanned. “So you’ve been following Watershed?”

“Since this morning,” Matchstick replied, nodding to the building across the street, a brick hardware store with a sign reading “Acme Hardware” in gold lettering over the door. “Went in there about half an hour ago; I followed him in and looked around, but I think he might’ve seen me, so I decided to wait outside.”

She reached into the saddlebag of the dark red bicycle next to her, plucked out a cigarette, and placed it in her mouth, lighting it with the match. “You and Phil doing okay?” she asked through a cloud of heavy smoke.

“We’re fine,” Daring coughed, turning away from the bellicose odor assaulting her nostrils. The mostly-healed burns along her legs and wings protested faintly for a moment, but she forced the memory of the pain down.

“Miracle you got out of there in one piece,” Matchstick continued, puffing on the fag. “That was a hell of a bomb design. If that changeling hadn’t taken the blast, then--” She paused and looked over to see Daring scowling at her. “Not helping, right?” she asked.

“Not really,” Daring growled.

“Sorry,” Matchstick nodded, taking out the fag and puffing out some smoke. “But you’re not dead and you’ll get the bastards. Bright side, right?”

Daring just grunted.

“Heads up,” Matchstick said, taking another uninterested drag on the cigarette.

Daring pretended to be immersed in the bus schedule posted on the side of the small cabin, but out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the familiar turquoise pony exited the hardware store through the sliding glass doors, mopping his mane and spitting some nuts out of his mouth as he balanced a pair of saddlebags over his shoulders.

He made his way over to a blue bicycle chained to a nearby lamppost and started strapping the saddlebags to the back of the frame. As he was working, one of the bags toppled over, spilling its contents out onto the asphalt: cans of white spray paint. Watershed cursed and quickly gathered up the cans, stuffing them back into the bag and swinging up onto the bike.

“Wonder what those are for?” Matchstick mused, climbing onto her bike.

“Just stay on him,” Daring replied, turning and walking away. As soon as she rounded the corner into the alley, she pulled the damned dress off, stuffing it and the rest of her costume into the enchanted bag. Placing the pith helmet upon her head, she took to the skies. Her blue target beneath stood out against the asphalt as he headed west, pedaling hard up the road.

“I’ve got you now,” she growled, gliding along the zephyrs over her prey.

Watershed biked down the street at a steady pace, gliding through intersections and around corners. Matchstick followed at a safe distance, pausing behind corners and taking alleys to stay out of sight as much as possible. Daring glided over his head, easily carried on the warmer winds.

Watershed turned right at a four-way, then another right past a bookstore two blocks down to head south. Daring flew northwards, the back of her neck prickling. He’s trying to shake a tail. Hope Matchstick is smart enough to know that.

She alighted on a cloud and pulled out the enchanted bag, tugging a red jacket and a ball cap out of the seemingly infinite depth. She tugged this over her shirt and replaced her pith helmet with the cap before taking off to return to her quarry.

Suddenly, a fleet of weather ponies flew in her path, escorting a front of thick, gray rain clouds that blocked her path. “Oh, for fuck’s--!” Daring snarled, ducking beneath the mass of clouds and zipping back south to the bookstore.

Now where the hell did he--?

A glimmer of yellow and red beneath caught her attention. Matchstick was standing at the northeast corner of the block north of the bookstore, straddling her bike as her head swiveled back and forth.

“Shit!” Daring snarled out loud, swooping down to face her. “Where’d he go?” she snapped.

“Saw him heading down this street and when I turned the corner, he was gone!” Matchstick replied, her teeth gritted.

Daring growled and shot up into the air again, circling the blocks, her eyes darting around for any blue earth ponies on a bicycle. But after ten passes, she was forced to concede that Watershed was gone.

“Fuck! Bastard!” Daring roared, kicking a nearby cloud into wisps in frustration. Huffing and snarling, she descended back to a grumbling Matchstick.

Author's Note

I seem to be writing longer and longer chapters as time goes on.

Anyway, I finally have an excuse to use this adorable piece of artwork that was made for me by Miyathegoldenflower!

Hope that you liked this chapter! If you did, leave a like and a comment!

Case Sixteen, Chapter Five: Unearthed

“Wish these maps weren’t so incomplete,” Red stated as he laid a large sheet onto his desk. “Then again, this is the Under we’re talking about. What makes you think that they’re down there anyway?”

“Soil samples from the getaway van from the bombing,” Phillip replied, studying the maps of the vast network of tunnels and rotten buildings that lay beneath Ponyville’s streets. “I didn’t recognize them at the time, but they came from the southern part of the Industrial District. More specifically, underneath the northern part of the Industrial District.”

“So the guys killing the changelings are hiding in the Under?” Red asked.

“No; I double-checked and there were some coat hairs in the sample that didn’t match any of our killers,” Phillip replied, not looking up from the map. “I believe that the soil was originally from Sweet Tart’s truck. When the changeling killers stole it, some of it was transferred onto them, then into the van.”

“And Sweet Tart got it from her companions who were stalking Dorata,” Red concluded. “But what were they doing down there?”

“When I went into Dorata’s basement, I tapped the floor. Heard a hollow noise beneath some sections,” Phillip continued.

Red stared for a moment, then chuckled. “Sweet Faust. They’re digging a tunnel beneath his house,” he declared, shaking his head. “That’s how they were planning on getting past all that security.”

“Right-o,” Phillip nodded, adjusting the map of Ponyville over the incomplete sketches of the northern Under. Compared to the thorough map of the city streets, the survey of the Under looked like a medieval sea chart: there were gaps in tunnels like missing puzzle pieces, large sections were blank, and lines meandered at seemingly random angles.

But it was all the police department had of the cavernous ruins.

Tearing flesh and mad laughter. Gunshots and screams. A shadow thrown against the stone wall, its shape--

Phillip paused and closed his eyes, allowing the memory to float before him for a moment as he took in a slow breath, mixing it with the fear that was threatening to burst through his chest. Then he slowly exhaled and allowed the memory to pass, taking the reflexive fear with it. Opening his eyes, he returned to his work.

“Hey, Phil!” Flash called, running in with a large grin on his face. “I got something for you!”

“It’s not my birthday, anklebiter,” Phillip replied with a smile.

“I figured it was a long shot, but I tried to figure out the route that Sweet Tart’s kidnappers took when they took her truck,” Flash said. “Took me a lot of cycling through surveillance crystal footage, but I caught some glimpses of them.”

“You find out where they stopped?” Red asked.

“Narrowed it down a bit,” Flash said, drawing a circle around a cloister of blocks in the southwestern section of the Everfree District. “But more importantly, I found this.”

He held up a clear plastic bag with some yellow-orange plastic pieces in it. “Turns out they bumped into a power pole on Dandelion. That truck should have some damage to the left headlight.”

Phillip grinned at the bag. “Ripper job, Flash.”

“Thanks, dad!” Flash beamed.

Red and Phillip both froze, staring wide-eyed at Flash. A moment later, the younger pegasus realized what he’d said and covered his mouth with both hooves, his face turning cherry red. “Oh, Mother,” he groaned. “I am so sorry, I--”

“It’s fine,” Phillip shrugged it off, turning back to the maps after shooting a glare at a snickering Red. He stared down at the charts, briefly wondering why it felt like his heart was dancing inside his chest.

“What’d we miss?” Daring grumbled, entering.

“Thought you were following Watershed,” Phillip asked, looking up in surprise.

“We lost him,” Daring replied. “If smoke-for-brains had kept a better eye on him--” She paused and took a slow breath. “Anyway, we followed him out of a hardware store, and then he shook us off,” Daring grunted. “Matchstick is trying to pick up his trail again. They search Blasting Cap’s place yet?”

“Yeah, Hound and Bird Dog checked already,” Red replied. “Turned up diddly-squat aside from some manifesto drafts about how all changelings and any who associate with them are traitors to Equestria and need to be exterminated, and a bunch of letters from his psychiatrist about missed appointments and not taking his medicine.”

“Damn,” Daring grumbled. “So what’s this about?”

Phil quickly brought her back up to speed. “So, an expedition into the Under, huh?” Daring said, studying the charts with a small grin. “Always liked spelunking.”

“Okay, here’s the closest to Dorata’s place,” Phil said, placing a hoof on a weaving tunnel. “And the closest entrance is...here.” He tapped a red triangle that lined up with an old, crumbling mansion on Moonrise.

“Looks like the fastest route is past the windmill cavern and Digger’s Pool,” Daring added, running a line between the two points. “Take us...fifteen minutes if we move carefully.”

“We’ll have to assemble some officers to go with, get clearance from the chief,” Red grunted, standing up.

Phil and Daring both glanced at each other, faces grim as they adjusted their hats. “Hey,” Flash said. “If we get this done quick, we can get back to finding the other bastards before they hurt anyone else.”

Phillip nodded. “Yeah,” he said, following the others out and down the line of cubicles where other detectives were hard at work. “It’ll be apples.”

“I’ve searched for lost doubloons in underwater caverns,” Daring commented, trying to convince herself as much as the other stallions. “This’ll be a cinch.”

Red snorted. “What?” Daring asked.

“It’s just, you two always do this,” Red replied, shaking his head.

“Do what?” Phillip pressed.

“Be all mysterious with those chiseled scowls and pulling your hats down over your eyes so you look cool,” Red replied, gesturing to his head.

Phil and Daring glanced at each other and simultaneously pushed their brims back. “We don’t do that,” Daring protested.

“Yes, you do,” Red and Flash chorused as one.

“So…Ocellus,” Sandbar said as he slowly walked up the sidewalk, staring at the water canna in his hoof, the crimson and gold petals blazing in the sun. “I found this, uh, flower. In the river. And I wanted to give it to you, because...it reminds me of you. It’s pretty...like y-you’re pretty, and I, I, er…” He sighed. “I’m doomed, aren’t I?”

“Well, no!” Silverstream replied, hovering over his head. “You just gotta work on the presentation. And the speech. And on smiling. And on not stuttering. And on…” She paused, looking down to meet a pair of green eyes glaring up at her.

“Look, just be yourself,” she said with an encouraging smile. “I keep telling you, I’m sure Ocellus knows how you feel by now; she is a changeling, after all.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Sandbar groaned.

“Sandbar, trust me,” Silverstream said, patting the colt on the back. “You just have to be a bit more confident and you’d have mares eating out of your hoof! And maybe a few stallions, too if you’re into that. You’re good-looking, kind, you’ve got a great smile, and you know a lot about snorkeling and marine life.”

“I’m also a huge dork who passed high school on a C-plus average and has the most vanilla life ever,” Sandbar sighed, tucking the flower back inside his purple Ponyville High letterpony jacket. “Not like cousin Flash. Bet he has mares throwing themselves at him after he killed that zombie-raising monster.”

“Don’t be like that,” Silverstream chided him. “Ocellus isn’t Flash’s friend, you are! You’re the one who went to school with her, studied with her, took her wakeboarding!” She paused. “Then again, she wound up covered in egg yolks, so maybe that wasn’t as fun for her.”

“I’m just glad that she wasn’t mad at me,” Sandbar said with a small grin.

“Hey, we’re here!” Silverstream cheered, rounding the corner and spotting the cluster of single-story blue cottages nestled in a large lot. “I can’t wait to show Ocellus and Rose the new dance moves I learn--”

She turned around and frowned to see a green tail disappearing around the corner. “Get back here,” she snapped, grabbing Sandbar’s tail and pulling him back.

“Hey, not cool!” Sandbar protested, flailing as the mare dragged him along. “Lemme go!”

“You are talking to her if I have to drag you all the way over there!” Silverstream growled, using her wings to help propel them along.

“Uh...hey, guys.”

“Ocellus!” Silverstream cheered, dashing over to hug the arctic blue pegasus that was walking up the street, leaving Sandbar lying open-mouthed on the ground.

Ocellus grunted in surprise, her eyes bulging as Silverstream hugged her around the neck. “It’s...good to see you...too,” she said, trying to wriggle out of the hug. “What’re you doing here?”

“Ocellus, who--?” Blue Rose called, rounding the corner with more bags held in her magic. “Oh, hello, you two!” she chirped, smiling and relaxing once she saw Sandbar and Silverstream.

“Hi, Miss Rose!” Silverstream said, waving. “We just wanted to say hi! And Sandbar wanted to show you something!” She winked at Sandbar, who scowled at her.

“Is that so?” Rose said, giving Sandbar a knowing smile as she gathered up all of the bags. “I’ll bring these inside and set up some lunch for you all.” She proceeded towards the first cottage on the left, giving her daughter a wink. Ocellus replied with a brief glare, her cheeks coloring before she turned back to Sandbar.

The two stared at one another in silence for a bit, both shuffling in place. Ocellus cleared her throat, her cheeks returning to her normal color. “So…” she prompted.

“Er…” Sandbar stuttered. He glanced over at Silverstream, who nodded encouragingly and gestured at Ocellus. He gulped, then put what he hoped was a winning smile on his face as he approached. “I, uh, found this in the river that day, and uh…” He swallowed, his hoof hovering over his pocket, then proceeded forward, taking the water canna and holding it out. “H-here,” he said, his smile becoming more forced.

Ocellus blinked, looking from him to the flower and back. Sandbar remained frozen, his heart thumping against his chest so hard that he was sure that the girls could hear it, and he found himself wondering what nervousness and dorkiness smelled like to a changeling. The seconds stretched out in hours of silence.

Finally, a small smile stretched across Ocellus’ face as her cheeks colored. “Thank you, Sandbar,” she said, reaching out to take the flower. Her hoof brushed against Sandbar’s, warm and tingling like static electricity, and Sandbar felt the world spin as all the blood rushed to his head. Ocellus placed the flower in her mane, over her ear.

Silverstream squealed in delight, twirling in midair. “Finally! You have no idea how long I was waiting for you two to get together! Oooh, now there’s gonna be romantic dates and trips out onto the river--hopefully with no eggs this time!--and then the wedding, and--!”

“Uh, Silver, I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself,” a red-faced Sandbar interrupted, rubbing the back of his head. A frozen, furiously blushing Ocellus was emitting a chorus of squeaks out of her gaping mouth.

“Oh, uh, right,” Silverstream chuckled.

“Ocellus! You gonna let your friends stay out in the cold?” Blue Rose called out the window of the cottage.

“Coming, mom!” Ocellus called, recollecting herself and beckoning her friends towards the house.

But as they approached the cottage, two other ponies approached from around the corner, adjusting the collars of their jackets. The green unicorn was frowning through his blonde beard, while the yellow earth pony was darting his head back and forth, white bangs waving with the motion.

“Excuse me,” the unicorn called to Ocellus.

Ocellus froze, staring at the two strangers. “Y-yes?” she asked, retreating a bit. Sandbar and Silverstream both instinctively stepped in front of her.

“Don’t be scared,” the stranger said with a smile that reminded Sandbar of a clown doll that his grandmother had posed on a chair facing the door in the upstairs hallway. He hadn’t mustered up the courage to go up there until he was eleven years old.

“We just wanna talk to your mom, kid,” the earth pony said, still looking around.

The door to the number one cottage opened and Blue Rose stalked out, glaring at the interlopers. “Kids, inside. Now,” she ordered.

The trio scrambled into the cottage, Ocellus slamming and locking the door behind them. Rushing through the sparsely decorated living room and past the small but overstuffed bookshelf, they crowded around the small window to watch the confrontation.

“Who are you?” Blue Rose hissed at the stallions, keeping her distance from the strangers.

“We’re not the guys who are out to kill changelings, so don’t worry about that,” the unicorn said. “You’re Blue Rose, right?”

“Guess. What do you want?” Rose hissed.

The white-maned stranger glanced around and his dark gray eyes fell upon the kids in the window. He glared at them and the three retreated from his gaze.

“We know...what you are,” the unicorn continued, his tone like false maple syrup: thin and far too sweet to be natural. “And we have a business proposition for you.”

“Not interested in whatever kinky shit you’ve got in mind,” Blue Rose replied. “I’m out of the prostitute business.”

“No, no, not that,” the stallion chuckled falsely through his beard. “It’s just that we...have a need for a changeling.”

“Fuck off,” Rose snarled, turning away.

“It’ll pay well,” the unicorn pressed. “Set you and your daughter up for years. You could send her to a great school, move out of--”

Blue Rose whirled around, fire blazing from her eyes. “Read my lips, asshole. Fuck. Off.”

“You’ll want to think carefully about that kid before you say no,” the earth pony cut in, scowling at her. “She and you--”

Green light illuminated the block and a moment later, a nine-foot grizzly bear was snarling at the two intruders, hatred burning out of her wide blue eyes. The stallions both yelped and darted away, disappearing from sight in an instant.

“And stay away from my daughter!” Blue Rose shouted as she transformed back to her pony form. With a huff, she turned and stalked back inside.

Ocellus transformed back as she hurried over and unlocked the door. “You okay, mom?” she asked, bustling her mother inside.

“I’m fine, honey,” Blue Rose said quietly, shifting to her normal changeling form.

“We should call the police!” Sandbar cried, heading for the phone on the wall.

Blue Rose opened her mouth to protest, then glanced at Ocellus, who was trembling like a leaf as she clung to her foreleg. Rose sighed and gently tucked Ocellus’ head to her chest, nodding to Sandbar.

Silverstream glared out the window for a few seconds in silence, then headed for the door. “Where are you going?” Ocellus asked.

“No one threatens my friend,” Silverstream declared coldly and stormed out. Ignoring her friends calling her back, she took to the sky, glaring around for her targets.

There! The bearded unicorn and scruffy earth pony were heading west on bicycles. They blazed right through an intersection, ignoring the blaring horns all around them.

“I’ve got you now, you sneaks!” Silverstream grinned, flapping after them. “Ooooh, this is so cool! I feel like Compass Rose! Or Detective Finder! Well, except that he doesn’t have wings and--oh, right!”

She continued to fly after the two strangers, darting from cloud to cloud, hiding behind buildings. The two ponies continued to bike across the city, heading southwest.

They finally stopped at a small park near Town Center: as they chained their bikes to a bike rack in the shade of an ancient oak, the bells from the City Hall clocktower a mere stone’s throw away rang out eleven o’clock.

Perching at the top of a birch tree, Silverstream looked down Bakery Street. The blue cottage with the swinging sign over the door looked like a toy from this far away.

“Maybe I could go get them…” she mused.

She glanced down and saw her targets heading for a brick building with boarded windows at the corner of the block. “It can wait,” Silverstream decided. “I need to know where they’re going first!”

She watched as the two stallions wandered around the perimeter of the long, narrow building, which looked like it had been a workshop or factory once upon a time. One part of the building, which was surrounded by a chain-link fence covered with wooden panels and plastered with Condemned signs, seemed to be slightly sunken into the cracked ground; apparently the leftovers of an earthquake. The yellow earth pony paused at the corner, head turning towards the birch tree.

“Whoop!” Silverstream yelped, taking off and flying in a different direction. She felt the cold, steely eyes upon her and kept flying, fighting the urge to turn and look. Don’t mind me, just an innocent hippogriff out for a fly…

She sighed in relief when she spotted a cloud. Dipping around it, she paused for a moment and peeked around the edge of the cumulus.

Her targets had gotten through the fence through a small hole in the chain. The unicorn was crouching next to the sunken part of the house, pulling aside a tarp covering a window that was half underground. The frame beneath was devoid of glass, and the two ponies wriggled through, one after another, replacing the tarp behind them.

Silver waited a beat, allowing a couple of cars to pass by, then swooped down and crouched next to the wrecked edifice. Pulling the frayed tarp aside a sliver, she peeked inside. Only a bit of light managed to penetrate the room; she just barely made out the shape of an overturned table and some wrecked chairs and other detritus. There was no sign of her quarries.

“Adventure!” Silverstream cheered, sliding through. She got stuck briefly partway through but managed to squeeze through and entered the dark workroom. The mold-eaten boards creaked beneath her steps.

A door squeaked up ahead. Silverstream stole forward across the uneven floor, stumbling over patches of dirt that poked through the rotten floor, and paused at a threshold, the door laying on the floor like a corpse.

“Hate going down here,” she heard the earth pony say from up ahead. As her avian eyes adjusted to the darkness, she spotted the two stallions heading through a doorframe a few yards ahead. Silverstream snuck ahead and peeked around the corner just in time to see them heading down a tunnel carved into the floor, swallowed up by the deep shadows.

Silverstream barely stifled an excited gasp. They’re going into the Under!

She waited until the sound of their hoofsteps had faded away, then quickly darted forward, carrying herself quietly on her wings. She proceeded down the sloping tunnel into the close, damp air that smelled of decay and sewage.

“What took you so long?” a gruff voice grunted from up ahead. Pressing her back against a wall, Silverstream peeked ahead to find the two stallions facing another figure in a heavy coat. The trio was lit by a small flare held by the new pony, a pale orange pegasus mare with a long, mangy blonde mane that cast most of her face in shadow.

“Things went a little...sideways,” the white-maned stallion grunted, reaching into his jacket and pulling out something wrapped in thin paper, which he handed to the dirty mare. She unwrapped it and Silverstream got a brief whiff of meat before she started devouring it messily, tearing at the meal like a starving wolf attacking its prey.

“There are other changelings in town,” the bearded unicorn said, continuing past the mare and deeper into the weaving tunnels. “And if we can’t get them to work with us, we can still go forward with the plan without it. Better to get something out of all this than nothing.”

“We’d better,” the mare with the flare said as she turned and followed the stallions, meat juice dripping from her lips. Silverstream noticed as she crept after them that the strange mare had some kind of large backpack strapped to her back and there were odd yellow lines running along her black jacket. “I’ve been waiting down here for so long, waiting on you to bring that old, fat fuck down here. You get great acoustics down here: I know, you should’ve heard the screams from some guy I chased off. Be a shame to let them go to waste without hearing some rich bourgeois screaming in pain while I roast his flesh.”

Silverstream shivered as she padded after them silently, ducking behind a loose boulder. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea…

The two stallions exchanged a glance as they proceeded through the warped remnants of a cottage’s living room buried in the rubble. “O-kay,” the yellow earth pony said slowly. “How goes the tunnel?”

“Nearly done,” the mare with the backpack replied, hopping over the fossil of an ancient wagon sticking out of the mud. “Just need to chip away the last of the mortar and we’ll be through. You’d better get a changeling before then.”

“Maybe we could get the kid,” the unicorn mused out loud as they proceeded through the bones of an iron gateway, rusted rods sticking randomly out of the ground like spears left behind after an epic battle. “Force the mother to cooperate.”

“Or maybe we just abandon the whole deal,” his partner replied, skirting around the dark, rippling surface of an underwater pool, the sound of water dripping into the pool from the stalactites above echoing through the caverns.

Silverstream gulped. Okay. Definitely time to get out of here and get help.

She waited until the light from the flare was gone, then turned around and started to head back. Almost immediately, she stopped in place, her heart dropping into her stomach as she stared into the pitch blackness behind her.

How do I get back?

She took a step forward and something beneath her talon cracked, the sound echoing like a cannon shot in the dark tunnel. Looking down, she saw what she thought was a long, light brown stick beneath her talon.

Then she saw the bite marks and the stringy, charred clumps clinging to the charred bone, still faintly smelling of blood and barbeque, and froze for a moment, jaw gaping in horror.

“What was that?” she heard one of the stallions behind her.

“Meat,” the female growled, hunger and lust rumbling behind the word.

With a yelp, Silverstream dove into the pitch blackness, her heart thumping so loud she barely heard the hoofsteps charging after her. She hopped over the half-buried wagon, spreading her wings to bank through the darkness.

She felt wind from up ahead, brushing over the edges of her wings, and let out a desperate laugh of relief as she swooped towards the promise of escape.

Too late, she remembered the buried cottage.

“Ow!” she yelped as her wing smacked into the rotting door frame. She crashed to the uneven floor with a snap and a howl as pain raced across her left wing when she landed upon it.

“Come here, meat!” she heard the muffled voice of the mare behind her snarl, hoofsteps pounding like an angry, hungry bear chasing after its prey.

Yelping, gasping, Silverstream pulled herself up and sprinted away, diving through a different door frame. The tunnel twisted and turned around her, and though she could barely see anything, she realized to her horror that she was descending.

That can’t be right! I have to be going up by now! Did I go the wrong way?!

“You can’t run forever!”

Silverstream knew she was right, but she pushed herself further, panting, gasping, inarticulately crying out for help, praying to the gods that she could keep going for long enough to find some method of escape. Someone had to hear her...someone had to...

The crumbling mansion on Moonrise, the windows in the brown casements long smashed and the towers quickly crumbling to pieces, had been abandoned since its infamous smuggling owner was gunned down in the street after his lieutenant usurped him in 1926.

In the weed-strewn backyard was a crumbling stone well, the bucket long removed from the crank. The top of the well was covered by a metal grate secured by a padlock, the fresh construction of the metal contrasting against the old, faded bricks. A sign bolted to the grate warned in bright white lettering, “Danger! Do Not Enter!”

Seven figures, five of whom had shotguns or submachine guns slung over their backs, hopped the short stone fence that provided a token attempt to mark the property line and approached the well. Daring scoffed at the warning. “Eh, life’s too short to follow all the rules,” she commented, bending down and inserting a key into the padlock.

“You say as you unlock that with a key you got from the Chief of Police after filling out a set of paperwork,” Red replied with a smirk. Daring grinned back as she gave him the Flying Feather.

With a snap, the lock opened and Daring pulled the grate open with a squeak. “Okay, folks, tour’s heading this way,” she said, gesturing to the narrow opening. “Watch your step heading down.”

Phillip climbed in first, followed by Daring, then Flash, Red, and Bumblebee, all of them clipping flashlights to their shoulders and switching them on.

“Come on, rookie,” Prowl said to the last one as she slid into the opening and hung onto the ledge.

Gallus hovered nervously, staring at the well like he suspected it was full of snakes, then swallowed. “Coming, sarge,” he squeaked out, walking towards her and slowly climbing into the well with the motion and gravitas of a griffon headed for the executioner.

“You all right, Gallus?” Prowl asked as they descended the rusty ladder rungs set into the concrete wall.

Above her, the blue griffon gulped nervously as he laboriously dropped one paw to the next rung, gingerly pressing his weight against it as if he was expecting it to collapse. “I, uh...I don’t do well with tight spaces,” he admitted.

Prowl paused and looked back up at him, her yellow eyes glowing slightly in the dimness. “Gallus, if you can’t do this, I need to know now,” she said evenly. “If you’re too scared, you’ll be putting yourself in danger.”

Gallus paused and looked back up at the opening above him. The sunlight beaming through the narrow opening seemed so tempting, like the hoof of Fantisera reaching into the depths of the Dreaming Sea, offering to pull him out of the bottomless fathoms that he would otherwise be doomed to wander forever as penance for his sins.

But he took a slow, steady breath and forced his leg to descend to the next rung. The old metal creaked a little beneath his weight but held. “No, I’m all right,” he nodded.

“Gallus. No one’s gonna think worse of you if you need to stay back,” Prowl said, a gentler tone in her voice.

“No one but me,” Gallus replied, reaching up to brush a claw over the golden badge pinned to his chest. “I’m a cop now. I have a job to do.”

“Good lad,” Prowl nodded, continuing to descend. “Word of advice: try to keep your mind on something besides what’s scaring you.”

“Like what?” Gallus asked, continuing to take the descent one step at a time.

“Like wondering how Bumblebee managed to squeeze his way down here,” Prowl replied with a smirk as she reached the bottom of the ladder and joined the others at the end of a thin tunnel, the smooth walls illuminated by their torches.

Bumblebee stuck his tongue out at her. “For your information, Arc’s been helping me lose weight,” he stated.

“The bedroom isn’t as good as the gym, Bee,” Prowl smirked back.

“Ponies,” Phil scolded them, looking at the copy of the map he was now unfolding from his vest. “Okay...once we get to the end of this tunnel, there should be a T-intersection. We head left.”

“Faster we get this done, faster we can get out of here,” Red told the uniformed officers behind him, beckoning them onward with a jerk of his head.

“And not soon enough,” Flash said, shrugging to adjust the shotgun slung over his shoulder.

Phil and Daring both shared a look, the same memories flickering in each others’ eyes: gunshots and screams and wild laughter. Misshapen bodies of ash thrusting at them through the dark. A shape cast against the cavern wall by golden light.

Daring took a steady breath through her nostrils and let it out slowly, nodding to her partner. He nodded back and they led the party forward through the tunnel.

The tunnel was thankfully short and opened into a wider passageway; the light from their torches illuminated the contrast between the smooth walls of the smuggler’s passageway and the rough, time-worn shape of the older cavern. They proceeded left, keeping silent as their ears strained for any noises beneath the echoes of their hoofsteps, distant drips of water from the ceiling, and the squeaks and chitters of underground beasts.

Gallus brought up the rear of the group, licking his beak and forcing himself to take steady breaths as his eyes checked every shadow three times, one wing hovering close to the holster where his revolver lay waiting.

Prowl dropped back to walk beside him, placing a wing over his withers. He managed to smile briefly in gratitude and nodded to her, receiving a nod back.

“We should be coming up on a larger cavern,” Daring reported, swinging her flashlight back and forth across the ground.

Sure enough, they stepped through a tunnel propped up by makeshift wooden beams and their lights revealed a cave nearly the size of a city block before them, remnants of storefronts and houses sticking randomly out of the ground and the walls like it was some kind of twisted movie set. An underwater river ran across the west side of the cavern, entering and disappearing beneath the stone wall. Another tunnel to the north offered an exit; the crooked skeleton of a windmill stood post next to the tunnel.

“This used to be a shopping district,” Daring commented. “Got swallowed up by a sinkhole and paved over to build all those mansions around 1870.”

“Since when were you Twilight?” Red said.

“Just because you’ve never been to the library--” Daring started to reply.

“Contact, two o’clock,” Prowl snapped, one hoof going towards her pistol.

Everyone turned to face the lone contact, crouching on the front porch of what had once been a saloon. The mangy donkey with a lice-ridden beard was clad in a filthy coat, so thoroughly covered in dirt and mud that its original color was totally indiscernible. He blinked beneath the harsh lights of their flashlights, growling at the intruders through yellowed teeth. Clutched in his hooves was a rat. A rat with a donkey-sized bite in it.

“Meat,” the underdweller hissed with a small giggle, his beady eyes darting to the guns. “More meat for the cook.”

“Easy, lad,” Phillip said placatingly. “We’re just passing through.”

“She came down last winter, like a bear into the den of wolves,” the donkey continued, blood dripping from his teeth. “She remains here, walking these tunnels, feasting on those who cross her, bartering with the surface for money, food, and fuel.” He giggled. “She’s been bringing two ponies down here. We don’t hurt them, she doesn’t cook us…but we can find more meat elsewhere...”

“What’s he talking about?” Gallus asked nervously.

“Something tells me that our friend’s been down here for too long,” Bumblebee said with a slightly forced chuckle. “Let’s just move on.”

"Forget him," Daring said, proceeding to the tunnel. "Let's just keep going."

Prowl suddenly snapped her head up, her ears sticking straight up. She exhaled sharply, her tufted ears wiggling. “Two ponies are running this way," she declared, pointing towards the exit.

“Guns up,” Red ordered, swinging the Trotson off his shoulder and tucking the butt into his shoulder. The others spread out, raising their own weapons.

"Help!" a female voice shrieked from the darkness up ahead.

"Get back here!" a muffled voice bellowed.

Iron sights settled over the tunnel mouth. Trembling hooves and talons gripped the cold metal tightly.

A pink hippogriff sprinted into view, her aqua blue mane in disarray, blue eyes wide with terror as she stumbled into the cavern. Right behind her was a mare with a dirty blonde mane. The light from their torches caught the yellow stripes on her tattered, bloodstained turnout jacket and the fuel tank strapped to her back with fuel lines running to her forelegs. The mare looked up as she approached: the light reflected off the lenses of her gas mask, making her seem like a faceless beast with glowing eyes.

“Oh, shit,” Red gasped.

“FINDER!” the Scorcher roared as her eyes fell on Phillip. Skidding to a halt, she raised both forelegs. With a great roar and a blazing light that struck like a physical blow, flames burst from her gauntlets towards her targets.

Author's Note

I've been waiting for a long time for an excuse to bring these guys back. Now I finally have one!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a like and a comment if you did!

Case Sixteen, Chapter Six: Through the Fire and Flames

The twin flames twisted through the air like glowing serpents, crossing yards in moments, the heat striking at the officers like a living weapon. Phillip, Daring, Prowl, Bumblebee, Red, Flash, Gallus, and the hippogriff all dove out of the way, crying out in terror as the flames missed them all by inches. The fire caught the old wooden constructs and raced across them, devouring them like a ravenous beast. Babbling in panic, the donkey scrambled for the southern tunnel, dropping his half-consumed meal.

The Scorcher looked down at the pink form quivering at her hooves and sneered. "Roast bird," she grinned, aiming a flamethrower at her. The meal screamed and tried to crawl away, raising a claw as if that would somehow block the napalm.

A blue blur streaked through the air, snatching the hippogriff away just as flames scorched the earth where she had just been. Grunting in confusion, the Scorcher whirled around to see the griffon officer crouching next to the windmill. In one claw was his .38 revolver. The other claw was holding the hippogriff's claw as she hid next to him.

“Pork roast!” the Scorcher snarled, sending a jet of napalm in his direction, setting the windmill ablaze. Gallus and the hippogriff sprang away, coughing on the napalm fumes as they ducked behind a crumbled storefront. Groaning as if in death, the windmill toppled over with a crash and an explosion of sparks that showered down over the Scorcher.

Bullets sang past her head. Turning, the Scorcher cackled as she advanced, spraying more flames from both of her gauntlets that forced Bumblebee and Red to duck for cover. The cavern was now lit by the glow of the fires that were ravenously devouring the ruins around her; through her gas mask, the lights were washed in darkened tones. She breathed in the hot, thick air through the lenses, invigorated by the scent of burning napalm and wood.

“Can’t hide, pigs,” she taunted aloud, her voice echoing through the caverns. “I’ve lived down here for months!”

Movement to her left. She turned and fired from both gauntlets, flames swallowing up what had been a telegraph office. Prowl and Daring both jumped and dove off the rooftop moments before it collapsed with a great groaning.

“I’ll find you and roast you!” the Scorcher cackled, tracking both of her targets with flames as they desperately scrambled for cover.

A shotgun roared out in defiance. The mare dropped, head darting towards the sound. Flash Sentry was leaning out of the doorframe of another shop, racking the slide of his shotgun. Bumblebee was emerging from cover as well, shouldering his shotgun, and above her stood Daring Do, drawing her pistol from its shoulder holster.

But her eyes fell on her target. Phillip Finder was standing in the bent, empty door frame of a larger shop. His verdant vest and dark gray trilby, the colors standing out so vibrantly against the flames and shadows, marked him like a red bullseye on a dartboard.

With a sneer, the Scorcher twisted a valve on her gauntlets. Thick, black smoke billowed from her launchers with a cough and a hiss, spreading through the cavern and obscuring her from view.

The gunponies all paused, squinting through the cloud to try to find their target. “Anypony see her?” Flash called, the sweat that coated his body making it difficult to grip his weapon properly.

“No!” Daring shouted from above, coughing on the scalding fumes.

“Prowl, you good?!” Bumblebee shouted, his voice, driven to an unnatural falsetto by fear, rising over the crackling, snapping fire.

“We’re good!” Prowl called from the overturned rocks where she, Red, Gallus, and Silverstream had taken cover. “We need to make a break for it to get out of here!”

“This way, this way!” Red called, taking to the sky and hurrying for the tunnel that they'd entered through, even as flames started to lick at the wooden beams supporting it. “Flash, cover us!”

Flash opened fire, firing randomly into the smoke cloud. Red took off and headed for the west tunnel, sending a few spurts of lead into the cloud as he passed over. Gallus followed, and Prowl paused only to grab Bumblebee and carry him over to the tunnel mouth next to the burning windmill wreckage.

“Daring, Flash, Phil, let’s go!” Red called, sending more salvos into the cloud.

Coughing and wiping tears from her reddened eyes, Daring took off and flew over to where the others waited. Shouldering his shotgun, Flash flew over the churning smoke to where Phillip stood and took him by the forelegs.

“BOO!”

A mass of fiery hate lunged at the pair from the smoke, both flamethrowers extended.

“Shit!” Flash cried as both stallions leaped away from the roaring flames that enveloped the front of the store. The heavy sign groaned and began to give way.

The Scorcher sprinted inside just as the timber broke, collapsing to block the entrance with flaming rubble. Inside, she paused, sweeping the room with her flamethrower.

The interior of the buried shop stretched back farther than the front suggested, the wooden walls seeming to fuse into the stone yards back. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and stalagmites were budding through holes in the wooden floor, the stone structures mixing with the remnants of workshop tables, countertops, and the metal furnishings of what had been a blacksmith’s shop.

But there was no sign of her prey. They’d even turned off their flashlights.

“No getting out of here, Finder,” she snarled, popping a flare from her vest and tossing it into the middle of the room. The hissing flare cast the entire room into crimson light, strange shadows dancing across the walls. “I’ve been hiding down here ever since you took down the boss, waiting for my chance.”

She heard motion to her left and sprayed a jet of flame that illuminated what had been a set of bellows. One of her targets--the youngling, she thought--shouted in panic and she heard him scramble out of sight.

“I’ll find you!” she shouted. “I’ll make a haggis from your guts and roast your tongue over a slow flame!”

A mare screamed outside and she heard the rubble shifting. Daring, no doubt, trying to get inside. With a sneer, the Scorcher sent another wave of fire over the front, just to ensure that there was no interference. She could catch up to her later.

The floorboard creaked as Flash popped up from behind cover, shotgun swinging around to bear.

She was faster, ducking beneath his buckshot and firing back. The flames caught the wooden workbench that he was hiding behind and roared as they began to consume it. Flash flinched and stumbled, his shotgun tumbling away from his grasp.

“Oi!” Phillip barked, rising from behind a set of barrels with his revolver raised, his flashlight snapping on. The Scorcher sprinted for Flash, forcing Phil back behind cover with another jet of fire. Snatching up the shotgun, she flung it away into the darkness.

There was no time to go for his sidearm. With a roar, Flash jumped onto the Scorcher’s back, clawing at the tank on her back. “Let go, pig!” the pyromaniac roared, spinning around to try to shake the limpet off.

Rolling away from the flaming barrels, Phillip stood up, panting as he aimed his revolver at the struggling duo. The hot, oxygen-starved air scalded his throat as he breathed heavily, his head spinning; he couldn’t dare fire when he might hit Flash.

Flash bit down on the rubber hose leading from the Scorcher’s fuel tank and pulled. The rubber stretched, then snapped. Fuel sprayed out of the hose and Flash cried out, gagging and spitting and shaking his head as the liquid burned his face and invaded his throat.

The Scorcher threw herself backward and crushed Flash against the stone wall, driving the air from his lungs. Grabbing his head, she flung Flash off her; he crashed against the rough floor and tumbled over, grunting in pain before finally slamming into a stalagmite and laying still next to the pool in the back, his flashlight flickering and dying.

Now! Phillip pressed down on the trigger of the Filly Detective Special but missed the blurry figure amidst the shadows. The Scorcher zigzagged towards him, unclipping the fuel tank from her back and allowing it to crash to the floor. Phillip fired twice more, his second round striking his target in the shoulder before she crashed into him like a car. They tumbled together like lovers, clinging at one another, tugging and clawing at flesh as they struggled. Phillip’s flashlight tumbled off his shoulder and skittered facedown across the floor.

An elbow smacked into Phillip’s head, knocking his trilby from his head as stars spun before his eyes. The Scorcher rolled over and pinned him beneath her, ripping his sidearm from his foreleg and then seizing his throat with both hooves. Hacking and coughing thinly, his vision blurring as his head became lighter and lighter, Phillip stared up at the face above him, backlit by the flickering red light of the flare and the fire.

The shadows danced across the gas mask, and before Phillip’s blurry vision, they seemed to grow into lamprey-like tongues that slithered out of the filter, slurping and sucking at the smoky air. They dangled down next to his face, tiny teeth reaching for him…

No!

Phillip smacked the hooves holding his throat aside and countered with a punch to his enemy’s face, the strike dispelling the hallucination as the Scorcher grunted and flinched. Grasping the bloodstained turnout jacket, he pulled her in close, ramming his head into the leathery mask as he jerked his knee up into her crotch. As she bellowed in pain and tried to shove herself back up, Phillip pinned her left foreleg beneath his torso and twisted his body as he shoved with his right hoof, rolling her beneath him. He pounded and tore at her mask, pulling it out of place, and she snarled as her sight was stolen from her.

“Get off!” the Scorcher snarled, snatching at the flare on the ground next to her and swinging it at his face. Red light burned into Phil’s eyes and he flinched away.

Her hind hooves slammed into his gut like a battering ram against a door. All of Phillip’s air rushed out of him and he choked on the scalding air as he tumbled across the floor, his head spinning as he stumbled to his hooves. He crouched low to the ground, where the air was comparatively colder and clearer, trying to force himself to breathe deeply even though he felt like small daggers were scraping at the interior of his shriveled lungs. His wounded hind leg was screaming from the effort of carrying his weight, and the heat of the growing conflagrations was pushing down on his body like a living weight, sapping his strength.

The Scorcher was getting back to her hooves, snarling as she thrust the flare like a knife and yanked her gas mask off. The face beneath was gaunt and drawn, the sallow skin pulled close to the bone, the cheeks and nose sunken, the eyes so heavily shadowed that they were completely indistinct; in the sputtering light, her face looked like a skull, snarling at him with yellowed, bloodstained teeth.

Feet away, Flash stirred, rubbing his head as he gathered in the sight: his mentor, sweaty and hunched over in fatigue, staring at the flare-wielding Scorcher that was advancing on him, the pair of them backlit by the burning barrels and workbench.

“Shit, shit!” he gasped, looking around. A faint glimmer of light on metal revealed itself as his shotgun and he scrambled towards it.

Phil slapped the flare aside and sidestepped, driving the mare into his knee with a grunt. She wheezed out a laugh and pushed him away, swinging the flare at his face. The red light burned into his gaze and he flinched with a grunt, raising a hoof to his eyes.

“Burn!” the mare snarled, thrusting her weapon at him. The flickering light illuminated his face, twisted in pain.

And then a sneer broke across his face as he slipped the blow. With a snap of the wrist, his baton appeared in his hoof like a stage magician pulling out a card, the clacking of the weapon rising over the snaps and pops of the flames. The end cracked into the Scorcher’s knee, the limb buckling with a crack like a dry tree limb that mixed with her cry of pain.

“Motherfucker!” she snarled, wildly slashing with her flare. Phil’s baton crashed into her wrist and she bellowed in pain as the bone broke, the weapon tumbling to the floor as he struck her jaw with a grunt. The Scorcher tumbled to the floor but rolled with the blow.

Her hoof came down on a leftover hammer and she swung it at her attacker. Phillip's baton smashed into her forearm and the weapon crashed to the floor. Bellowing like a train, the Scorcher charged, tackling Phillip again. They locked together like two goats fighting for dominance, hooves stamping against the floor in a twisted dance that would end with only one survivor.

Retrieving his shotgun, Flash watched the blurry shapes in horror through tear-streaked eyes, barely able to distinguish who was who.

A deep groaning like a giant beast caught Phillip's ear. He looked up and saw a burning roofbeam creaking, splintering as it struggled to hold the weight of the roof.

"Flash, the beam!" he shouted, coughing as the Scorcher pounded at his side.

Flash blinked, then looked up and saw the beam as well. Tucking his shotgun to his shoulder, he closed one eye, squinted over the bead, and fired. The boom of the shotgun seemed to make the entire structure tremble and splinters flew from the breaking beam, which groaned even louder as it began to break.

Smacking the Scorcher in the thigh with his baton to distract her, Phillip sunk his teeth into her cheek, gagging on the revolting taste of her unwashed fur even as he drove his knee into her stomach. She reared back with a hiss of pain and Phillip gripped his baton at both ends, shoving her away with a blow to the neck. The Scorcher tumbled to the floor beneath the breaking beam.

Just as she landed, the beam finally split and broke, sending burning debris tumbling down onto the madpony's body. She barely had time to scream as Phillip and Flash both jumped out of the way, the debris tumbling down with a great cacophony. When the stallions looked back, all they could see of their foe was a single limb sticking out from beneath the funeral pyre.

“Come on, Flash,” Phillip beckoned, coughing heavily as he pocketed his weapon and retrieved his trilby. Both stallions hurried over to the front of the store, raising their forelegs to shield them from the burning pile of rubble that blocked their exit.

“Daring!” Phillip called, coughing.

“You guys okay?!” Daring shouted from outside, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames.

“Get us out of here!” Flash called through a coughing fit, flinching as more rubble snapped and fell.

"Stand back!" Red shouted.

A moment later, some of the rubble began to shift and part, lifting up above the ground. "Come on, come on!" Prowl shouted.

Dropping to the floor, Phillip and Flash crawled through the narrow opening, hissing in pain as the heat blistered their skin. They exited to find the others all pushing down on a beam that they were using as a makeshift lever to lift the rubble out of the way, grunting and straining with the effort. As soon as Phillip was safely out of the way, they dropped the beam and the rubble crashed back down.

"Let's go!" Red shouted, turning and heading back to the southern tunnel, flames already chewing at the wooden beams. But before they even made it halfway across the burning fields, the beams all groaned, and then collapsed with a terrible crashing of rubble.

"We're trapped!" Bumblebee shouted, coughing on the smoke. "Now what?!"

The hippogriff looked about in panic, then her eyes locked onto the rivers on the western side of the cavern, the waters reflecting the dancing flames. "This way!" she called. "We can get out this way!"

"That's underwater!" Daring replied. "It's too far to swim!"

"Trust me!" the hippogriff cried, lifting up the necklace around her neck. The pink carved pearl fragment dangling from her neck caught the light, glittering like a Hearth's Warming tree bauble.

The officers all glanced at one another. "What choice do we have?" Gallus said.

The group proceeded to the river and splashed into the water, the cool water embracing them up to their knees.

“Take my talons!” the hippogriff said, extending her forelimbs. Phil and Flash both took a talon, the appendages cold and slippery with sweat, and the others all grasped each other's limbs in a circle.

The mare closed her eyes and the carved pearl around her neck glowed. Blue light swirled around her, then around her companions.

Phillip gasped as the light enveloped him. A feeling like a wet blanket being draped over him ran down his body, through his mane. His hind legs clenched together of their own volition, and a bizarre numbness spread down from his flanks; though he felt no pain, he shuddered as he realized his flesh and bones were fusing together like clay and he fell facefirst into the water as his support was removed. He pushed himself up, but his front hooves flexed against his will and he looked down to see that they were turning into fins, his skin now a smooth layer of scales. Loose skin flapped against his neck and he raised his forelimbs to find that he had gills.

“The fuck--?” Flash gasped as he sat in the shallow pool, studying his new form with wide eyes, flapping the tail that his hind legs had formed into. The others were all staring in amazement at their own forms, running their fins over their gills and faces.

"Holy shit!" Daring cried as she flexed her wings, which had turned into semi-transparent fins that she flapped and flexed with obvious difficulty. Prowl was studying her own fins, which were sharp and angular and black like her natural wings.

“Come on!” the hippogriff shouted, beckoning them before diving into the water.

“Well, hell, we’re part fish now. May as well,” Red commented, and dove in. Daring followed him down, with Flash, Prowl, Bumblebee going in after her. Gallus hesitated for a moment, then swam in after them.

Phillip instinctively took in a deep breath to hold it, then dove down. The water, formerly ice cold, was now comfortably cool, and he felt a rush of oxygen rushing up to his head as the water ran past his gills. He released the breath that he’d been holding in a rush of bubbles and twisted in the water, quickly discovering that keeping his mind on moving prevented him from futilely trying to force his gills to breathe for him.

"Here, this way," the hippogriff called, visible to eyes that were quickly adjusting to the shadowy depths. She gestured to the mouth of a tunnel beneath the river's surface, then swam through with practiced grace.

"You first, Gallus," Prowl said, gesturing to the griffon who now looked like a shark, with massive pectoral fins where his wings had once been. Gallus shivered, then swam forward, clawing through the waters with his forelimbs while his tail flapped behind him clumsily. Bumblebee, Red, Flash, and Prowl followed.

Daring paused just long enough for Phillip to give her a nod, then twisted into the tunnel. Phil swam after her, concentrating on trying to kick his legs...tail up and down in a rhythm like he’d seen their rescuer do.

The tunnel was mercifully short and opened into a wider underwater cavern, with stalactites and stalagmites stretching from the floor and ceiling that the others were swimming around. Despite the complete lack of light, Phillip found that he could see, albeit mostly in black and white.

"Okay, time out," Red said, stopping and making a time-out gesture with his hooves...fins. "Who are you and what are you doing down here?"

"Oh, sorry," the hippogriff said, gracefully pirouetting around to face them, a strained but relieved smile upon her face. "I'm Silverstream. I was visiting with my friend Ocellus and two fishy ponies came up and talked to her mom. They, er, said that they needed her help because she...um, uh…” Silverstream stammered, eyes daring about as she tried to think of what to say next.

“Because she’s a changeling?” Red asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh...yeah,” Silverstream nodded. “Anyway, she scared them off by turning into a bear, which was pretty cool, but I thought that those guys were super fishy, so I decided to follow them. They went around to an abandoned brick building next to the park in Town Center and I saw them going into a tunnel into the Under and thought ‘Cool! I’ll see where they go and then tell the police!’ and they met some creepy mare with a flamethrower, and then I tried to go back but the mare chased me and I got lost and here we are!”

Everyone stared at the hippogriff for a second. “Are you related to Pinkie Pie?” Daring asked dryly.

“Why does everyone ask me that?” Silverstream pondered aloud.

“Where did these ponies go?” Phillip asked, massaging his burning throat.

“I think this river comes out near where they went," Silverstream pondered. "They went through an old gateway and around a buried wagon."

Daring thought for a moment. "Yeah, this river comes out near what used to be Swifthoof Street and St. TJ Cemetery."

"Then I can show you!” Silverstream chirped, beckoning them to follow as she swam on.

“So you follow two weirdos into the Under and think the best thing to do is keep following them and see where they go,” Gallus commented, shaking his head as they swam after her. “You have got to be the craziest mare I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you!” Silverstream chirped.

"And what is that thing around your neck?" Flash asked, staring at the carved pearl that floated next to Silverstream's head.

“A piece of Eurybia’s Pearl, right?” Daring asked.

"Yup!" Silverstream grinned as the underground river began to slope upwards. "The perks of having lived at Mount Aris all your life. Here we are!"

They rose up and breached the surface of the underground river, finding themselves in a dark cavern, water dripping down from stalactites overhead. The beams of their flashlights revealed the remnants of a graveyard, with the bones of an iron gateway surrounding the fractured and broken remnants of gravestones.

The group joined fins once more and with another flash of blue light, returned to their normal forms.

“Ahh, much better,” Flash sighed, stretching his wings as he climbed out of the water and shook himself off.

"Well, that's not something I'd like to do again," Prowl mumbled, studying her wings with a small expression of relief.

"Ah, don't be such a killjoy, sarge. That was fun!" Bumblebee grinned, shaking his damp mane out of his face.

"Wait till I tell cousin Skystar about this!" Silverstream grinned as she climbed out. “Ow!” she cried out a moment later, glancing at her left wing, which the others now noticed was warped at an unnatural angle.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Gallus offered, striding forward. He gently ran a talon along her wing, clicking his beak. “Well, good news, it’s not broken. Just sprained.” He pulled a roll of gauze out of his belt and began carefully wrapping it, earning a shy smile of gratitude.

"How did you get down here?" Prowl asked.

“I came down a tunnel from this way,” Silverstream explained, pointing towards the remnants of the gate. “I’m sure I can get out from here.”

“Hmm,” Daring glanced at the map. “There’s no entrance labeled here.”

"Maybe it's a more recent one," Phillip suggested.

“All right, Gallus, escort her out of here and make a report back to Precinct,” Prowl ordered. “Keep watch on the entrance.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gallus saluted, making an effort to not look relieved.

“Good luck!” Silverstream waved to the others as she followed Gallus up out of the tunnel.

The others turned and headed down the pathway that she had indicated, following fresh hoofprints over the buried wagon and through the remnants of the iron gate. Finally, their trail led up to a long wall of wooden paneling that supported the tunnel wall.

“Must be an entrance here,” Daring said, pushing at the panels. “Got it!” she cried a moment later as one segment slowly shifted aside, revealing a narrower passageway built of piles of junk behind it, which she immediately began to climb through.

Bumblebee frowned at the gap. “Why did I agree to come down here in the first place?” he said mainly to himself, patting his girth.

“Oh, suck it up,” Prowl grunted, following Phillip through.

Red gagged. “Ugh! What is that smell?”

“You really want to know?” Daring replied from up ahead.

“Something tells me that--” Red’s comment was cut off when he emerged from the tunnel and saw Daring frowning at a cauldron balanced over the remnants of a campfire. Floating in the thick, stinking brew was a pony’s skull, blank eyes staring coldly out at the world. Tanks and buckets filled with oil and other noisome fluids stood next to a makeshift workbench littered with random junk. Bones littered the ground, all of them gnawed by yellowed, misshapen teeth.

“Well, there goes my appetite,” Red commented, turning away from the pot.

“Looks like we found the Scorcher’s den,” Flash rasped out as the others dragged themselves through, reacting to the remnants of their foe’s meal with varying degrees of shock and disgust.

“Tracks continue this way,” Phillip said, his flashlight panning across the ground and deeper into the chamber, up a slope of freshly-turned dark brown soil and into a cramped tunnel, the edges rough. Shovels, picks, and other digging equipment lay next to the makeshift ramp, dirtied from long use.

“This must’ve taken them months to work on,” Flash mused, panning his flashlight over the four-foot ramp of dirt.

Prowl glared into the tunnel, her ears wiggling. “They’re both in there,” she confirmed. “I think they’re armed.”

“Can’t go in there safely,” Flash said. “It’s only wide enough for one pony at a time. They’d pick us off if we tried to crawl in after them.”

“Hey!” Bumblebee shouted. “We know you’re in there! Come out!”

The only answer was silence.

“Well, I’m out of ideas,” Bumblebee shrugged.

“Wait,” Prowl cut in, her ears wiggling. “I hear scraping stone...shit, they’re climbing out.”

“Bugger, they’re already in Dorata’s home,” Phillip said, already climbing for the tunnel, wincing as his left leg protested the sudden effort.

“Flash, Daring, come on! We can try to cut them off from outside!” Red called, heading back for the entrance to the cavern. The other two pegasi followed him out as Prowl and Bumblebee followed Phillip into the tunnel.

The narrow dirt walls seemed to swallow up the light from their torches as they crawled forward, the thin walls supported by crude wooden struts. The smell of mud and soil filled their nostrils as they huffed and grunted their way through.

“So this could be how I die,” Bumblebee grunted from behind Phillip, squeezing through a narrower gap.

“Don’t think like that,” Prowl commented from behind him, tucking her wings in close to pass through. “Keep your mind on moving forward.”

“Yeah, but Phil’s about twenty years too old to be good motivation,” Bumblebee commented. “Ack! Hey!” he added a moment later when Phillip lightly kicked some dirt into his face.

Coughing thinly, Phillip finally reached the end of the tunnel, his flashlight illuminating a discarded chisel, hammer, and small crowbar. There was an opening in the tunnel over him, a flagstone moved aside to reveal Dorata’s stark white basement. Pausing, he pulled a hoof mirror out of his vest and held it up, tilting it around. All he saw was an empty, undecorated room. With a grunt, he pulled himself through and looked around.

He recognized this room as the corner of Dorata’s basement. A flagstone had been cut out and set aside, allowing entry. He listened intently but heard nothing.

Dorata and his bodyguards must be at work, Phillip thought as he beckoned the officers through, gesturing for them to be quiet. He reached for his shoulder holster, then remembered that he’d left his gun behind in the blacksmith shop.

No worries. Don’t need it for two wankers, he assured himself as he crept to the doorway and peeked out into the hall. No sign of the thieves. He allowed Prowl and Bumblebee to exit ahead of them, both officers sliding their forelegs into the holding straps of their .38 revolvers.

“Gotcha!” a bearded green unicorn declared, bursting out of a side room with his hoof curled around the trigger of a .45 Steel and Eastson. A yellow pony jumped out of the opposite room, also hefting a large, heavy revolver that clearly indicated that its owner was trying to make up for something.

The three officers froze, Prowl and Bumblebee both raising their unarmed left forelegs in surrender. “Think carefully about this,” Prowl said calmly. “Our partners are already heading for this house.”

“Now what, genius?” the yellow pony snapped to his partner, glaring at the unicorn through bangs but keeping his weapon on the officers.

“Shit, shit,” the unicorn mumbled, licking his lips. “Got this all fucked up...maybe we can take one of them hostage and walk out…”

“Maybe we can take him,” the yellow pony said, nodding to Bumblebee. “He’s certainly fat enough to--”

Phillip swore he heard something snap. Bumblebee froze for a moment, then glared at the gunponies, who both stiffened beneath the inferno-like intensity of his gaze. “Are you talking to me?” he growled.

“Uh-oh,” Prowl grinned. “You called him the f word.”

“Are you talking to me?” Bumblebee repeated. Both of the gunponies took a step back.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” Prowl continued in a slightly sing-song tone.

“Are you talking to me?!” Both the gunponies were now cringing, their weapons shaking. Phillip slowly raised a hoof towards a certain pocket on his vest.

“I’d run if I were you,” Prowl suggested, her grin growing wider by the moment.

“I’M! NOT! FAT!” Bumblebee roared. “I’m big-boned!”

He let out a bellow that seemed to shake the house to his foundations, the sound covering the whistle of Phillip’s boomerang as it streaked through the air, knocking both of the .45s out of their hooves. Bumblebee charged like a runaway locomotive towards his targets, who had just enough time to regret everything.

Author's Note

You have no idea how long I've been waiting to use that reference.

Happy Boxing Day/Kwanzaa/Holidays, dear readers! I figured after an intense firefight (ha ha, I'm not funny), a few moments of bathos would be enough to wash off the ashes. And Bumblebee provided the perfect opportunity for it.

So that's one problem solved! But we've still got serial killers on the loose! Tune in next week, and leave a like and a comment to show your support in the meantime!

This chapter underwent a major rewrite on 1/5/2021.

Case Sixteen, Chapter Seven: Makings of a Hero

“Their names are Dice Roll and Jimmy Scout,” Red stated some hours later, nodding over the intake papers in his office. “Turns out they’d been digging that tunnel since about last winter, which is when they got in touch with Sweet Tart and the Scorcher who was living down there. Their plan was to sneak in, abduct Alba, then have the Scorcher torture his financial info out of him while Tart imitated him to keep the heat off. Apparently, they pulled off similar scams in Manehattan and Trottingham.” He snorted. “You know, they may be idiots, but it’s a pretty bold plan.”

“Yeah, like something out of a dimestore novel,” Daring said dryly.

Red chuckled. “Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Prowl and Phil both trying to hold Bee back. Those two practically begged us to take them in!”

Daring smiled briefly, then her face fell as she looked up towards the corner of the roof, as if she could peer through the ceiling and into the infirmary above them. Above them, she knew, Phillip and Flash were resting on cots, oxygen masks over their faces and salves being rubbed into their chests to treat their soot-filled lungs. Right now, Twilight would be squeezing Flash’s hoof and Phillip would be rubbing his left hind leg, which was raised on a set of folded blankets with a large ice bag on it.

“Hey,” Red said, reading her thoughts. “They’re gonna be okay.”

Daring took a breath and nodded, turning her gaze out the window, searching in vain for something in the gray afternoon sky to occupy her thoughts. “Any word on Buzz?” she asked.

Red shuffled through the chaotic mess of notes on his desk, then snatched a post-it with a scrawl on it, left behind by another detective. “Ah, yeah,” he nodded. “Message from the hospital: he woke up and Doc A says he’s looking to be okay.”

Daring sighed. “Good,” she nodded, feeling a small weight lift from her shoulders.

The door opened and a familiar redheaded mare poked her head in. “Yo, Red, Daring,” Detective Matchstick announced as she entered. “Got some good news for you.”

“After last time, nearly anything would be good news from you,” Daring coldly replied.

“Fuck you, too,” Matchstick snapped at her. “But anyway, I did some more research on our friend Watershed, talked to neighbors, hardware store, colleagues. Found out that he was the one who purchased those bags of charcoal and the ice packs, and he rented out a storage shed, so I got a warrant rushed through and took a look inside.”

She held up a folder in her magic and tossed it onto the desk, the photographs within spilling out and adding to the jumble of paperwork. The images depicted a storage shed the size of a living room, the front open to reveal its contents: photographs of citizens tacked up on small bulletin boards, outside their homes, their workplaces, walking down the street. Lists of addresses and notes on routines. Boxes of ammunition, rifles, shotguns, and hoofguns set on a table. Lengths of black pipe, wound fuses, and a locked box full of black powder. Magic runes burned into the walls that Daring recognized as soundproofing wards.

And the ominous, dark stains on the concrete floor, most of them centered around a rickety wooden chair with belts looped around the arms and legs. Daring shuddered as she checked the next picture: a table with knives, pliers, hammers, and worse, all of them caked in blood.

“Yup, think we found the murder site,” Matchstick confirmed with a nod. “Suun and Sparkle are checking over evidence from the place now.”

“No sign of Watershed, Blasting Cap, or Golden Highlight?” Red asked.

“No such luck,” Matchstick shrugged.

“There’s gotta be something about where--” Daring froze as her eyes centered on a closeup of a billboard. One blueprint was tacked up on the wall, red pen marking entrances and exits of the large building.

The label read Ponyville Theater.

“Muziqaa,” Daring gasped and yanked the window open, diving out into the open air just as the first raindrops started to fall.

The lights around the Ponyville Theater’s display were dimmed, raindrops dripping like tears from the tragedy and comedy masks over the door. A poster in the doorway displayed a group photo of the Ifa-Aduu Zebra Dance Troupe, all ten zebras dressed in bright sunny colors and forming a pyramid shape. Daring recognized Sirba standing on her hind legs at the top of the pyramid, with Muziqaa performing a one-hoof hoofstand on her head, all of them beaming at the visitors.

The blueprint had marked the back entrance with an arrow, so she flew around to the back. The wide alley led up to a ramp and a garage door for delivering large props. A blue van was backed up to the door, the rear doors wide open and the driver’s side window smashed. The back door hung open, the smashed doorknob lying on the ground.

They’re already here, Daring thought, swooping down and shouldering the back door open, entering a tiled hallway.

“Muziqaa! Sirba!” she called.

“Aunt Daring!” a shrill voice shrieked from the left.

Daring sprinted forward and around the corner, spotting an open door, but before she could reach it, she heard a mare’s voice shouting: “You come in here, Daring, and this kid gets his head blown off!”

Daring skidded to a halt and pressed her back against the wall next to the door, forcing her breathing to steady. Sliding her hoof into the .38’s hoofstrap, Daring took out her hoof mirror and carefully tilted it to see inside.

The room was some kind of practice room, with some raised steps backed up against the wall and some spare instruments set aside in the corner.

The zebras were gathered in the back corner, all huddled together in fear. Watershed was keeping them covered with a lever-action carbine.

Golden Highlight was facing the door, glaring towards the entrance through her tangled purple mane, green eyes blazing with hate. Her right wrist was covered with a cast; with it, she covered the door with a large semiautomatic pistol, its oversized barrel quivering as she struggled to hold it. Her other hoof held a butterfly knife to Muziqaa’s throat. The little colt was whimpering and sniffling, tears running from his emerald irides as he trembled like a leaf. Sirba was laying nearby, blood running from her broken nostrils and staining her long mane; only the slow rise and fall of her chest assured Daring that she was still alive.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Do,” Watershed called, keeping his weapon level on the other dancers, chewed-up nuts flying from his mouth as he spoke. “We’re going to walk out of here with these two. And you’re going to let us.”

From far overhead, thunder rumbled, the crackling mixing with the pattering of rain against the theater’s domed roof. Muziqaa let out a little crackling sob.

And Daring felt herself go cold. Her heart, which had a moment ago been pounding in her chest next to where her Awely-Awely totem rested beneath her shirt, slowed. Another rumble of thunder came from overhead and she felt the sound rolling through her gut.

“No,” she said, reaching into another pocket.

“What?” Watershed called back.

“I said no,” Daring replied, and threw.

The smoke bomb smacked Highlight in the face and detonated with a flash of light, smoke billowing through the room as she screamed, dropping her knife. Muziqaa dived out of the way and ran over to his mother, desperately shaking her.

With a sharp flap of her wings, Daring rounded the corner, snapping her left wrist out as she snapped her iron sights to her target and squeezed the trigger lever with her right hoof. The crack of the .38 round firing muffled the whistling of her boomerang, and both her shots struck home; Golden Highlight shrieked as the round drilled through her broken hoof in a shower of blood and Watershed cried out in blind shock as his arm was snapped by a heavy blow. Both guns clattered to the tile floor as Daring slammed into the yellow mare, sending them both sliding across the floor.

Pinning the mare beneath her, Daring glared down at her foe for a moment, relishing the look of terror in her tear-filled eyes as she squinted up at her, then stamped down with her right hind leg. A great crack sounded through the room, mixed with a muffled howl of agony. Blood and teeth flew.

Coughing on the smoke and blinking away tears from his stinging eyes, Watershed turned around and froze like a rabbit that had just spotted a hungry wolf, his jaw dropping open to allow the nuts in his mouth to spill out onto the floor. Daring was glaring at him, her face shadowed by the brim of her helmet. She raised one hoof and caught the boomerang as it spun back towards her. Beneath her, Golden Highlight writhed in agony, trying to scream through a broken jaw.

“Run,” Daring growled.

Yelping, crying, stumbling on his broken leg, Watershed fled out the door, the tears that ran from his face now a mixture of pain and fear. He rounded the corner, spotted the broken door, and flung himself outside into the rain. If he could make it to the van--

A gust of wind slammed into him, an iron grip seized his left hind leg, and the ground was pulled away from his hooves. Watershed screamed, flailing helplessly as he was tugged high into the air, the buildings beneath turning into small squares as the rain and wind pelted him.

He twisted and looked up to behold a golden pegasus holding him up by his hind leg. Her rose-colored irides had darkened to a bloody crimson, glowing with hate. Lightning flashed across the gray clouds behind her, so close that it made the hairs on his coat stood up, eliciting a cry of terror.

“Where’s Blasting Cap?” Daring Do snarled.

“Y-you gotta understand!” Watershed babbled, his tears running into his mane. “He’s crazy! He...he told me that he w-was just g-gonna kill changelings, b-b-but when he got that u-unicorn, I-I-I p-put him out of--of his misery and B-Blasting Cap told m-me that if I-I-I-I t-talked, he would--”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Daring snapped, shaking him. “Where is he?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Watershed wailed through his sobs. “He just said that he was going to get a couple others while we dealt with those two!”

“Shit,” Daring snapped and dove back down to the ground. Watershed shrieked like a little filly as he fell alongside her; she pulled up at the last moment, then dropped him the last couple of feet onto the concrete ramp. He landed on his head with a grunt and laid still, groaning.

“Bastard,” Daring spat, dragging him back inside. She returned to the rehearsal room to find Sirba hugging her son, gently stroking his mane as he trembled while a female zebra held a hoofkerchief up to her broken nose. One of the other dancers was covering Golden Highlight with the carbine; the mare was silently glaring her hatred at them all, though she failed to suppress a shiver when she saw Daring enter.

“Thank you, Aunt Daring!” Muziqaa cried, hurrying over to hug her, ignoring her damp coat and shirt.

“Everypony all right?” Daring asked, dropping the unconscious Watershed next to his partner so she could stroke the little colt’s mane.

“We are fine, all thanks to you,” Sirba replied nasally, giving her a pained but relieved smile. “Is there anything that you need us to do?”

“Has anyone called the police?” Daring asked.

“I have,” another zebra nodded from the corner, holding up a phone. “They said that there were already officers on the way.”

“Good. Tell them I’ve got Watershed and Highlight here, but Blasting Cap is missing,” Daring nodded, gently ushering Muziqaa back to his mother. She turned to face her two captives, aiming her pistol at Golden while pinning Watershed down. She nodded to the dancer holding the carbine in his trembling hooves, who lowered the weapon with a nod of relief but did not let go of it.

Watershed moaned feebly beneath Daring. She pushed down a little harder on his back, keeping her weapon steady on the seething Highlight. “Don’t suppose you’d know where Blasting Cap is,” she snarled to the other mare.

Highlight spat out a wad of blood and phlegm in reply, the hot liquid striking Daring in the cheek and slowly dripping down her face. Daring scowled at her, fighting down the urge to give her a solid kick in the ribs as concern writhed in her gut.

“And you let her go?” Phillip grunted through his oxygen mask, glaring at Red from the infirmary cot he was lying on.

“You seen how fast she flies?” Red protested. “Besides, I already figured out where she was going: Ponyville Theater. Some officers are already on their way.”

“Good,” Phillip sighed, idly rubbing a hoof at his chest, which was covered with a pale green jelly that was ice cold to the touch and smelled faintly of petrol and onions (something to speed up the healing of his lungs, the nurses had assured him).

The phone in the infirmary rang and one of the nurses bustled over to answer it. “Hey, Detective Herring!” she called. “It’s dispatch.”

“Yeah, coming,” Herring said, trotting over and taking the phone. He listened for a second, then grimaced. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Flash asked from the cot opposite Phillip, his chest also covered with a pale green jelly and an oxygen mask over his face.

“Daring’s at the theater,” Red reported. “Everypony’s okay, but she’s only got Watershed and Highlight. Blasting Cap is out there somewhere.”

“Bugger,” Phillip growled, yanking his oxygen mask off and climbing off the cot.

“Where are you going?” the nurse protested.

“To try to find this wanker before he hurts somepony else,” Phillip grunted, headed outside.

Flash pulled off his oxygen mask, an idea churning in his eyes. “Is she still on the line?” he asked Red.

“Yeah,” Red nodded.

“Ask her what vehicle they took there,” Flash said.

Red held the phone back up to his ear. “Dispatch? Ask them what vehicle they came in.”

There were a few moments of silence, then Red said, “A blue van.”

Flash grinned and hopped out of the cot to follow Phillip outside, with Red right on his tail. “Oh, sure, just ignore all my advice!” the nurse commented, flinging her hooves up into the air.

“I think I have an idea,” Flash said as the trio descended downstairs. “Daring said that she saw Watershed buying white spray paint from that hardware store, right?”

“You’re right, good plan, anklebiter,” Phillip nodded as they headed for the door labeled Dispatch.

Twilight exited from the door and spotted them, her eyes narrowing in exasperation. “Are you serious?” she protested. “You should be resting! There’s no telling what all that smoke did to your lungs!”

“We’re fine,” Phillip grunted, trying to ignore how it felt like nails were scratching at the inside of his chest and throat every time he spoke. “We need to find Blasting Cap.”

Flash quickly filled Twilight in. “So you think that he might be in Sweet Tart’s stolen truck, which will be painted white?” Twilight mused.

“And its left headlight will be cracked,” Flash added.

Twilight grinned. “I can work with that,” she said, heading back inside the Dispatch room with the stallions following.

Proceeding past the lines of radio and phone operators, giving only a brief glance at the map of Ponyville with the glowing dots that tracked the department’s cruisers and plainclothes vehicles, Twilight hopped up onto the elevated platform in the back with the multicolored crystals embedded in the walls, each projecting an image from the armada of surveillance crystals spread throughout the city.

“Excuse me, Stellar,” Twilight nodded to the white unicorn with the spiky green and blue hair who was twirling a hoof through her blue beaded necklace. Stellar Lights nodded and stepped aside to allow Twilight to start pressing the crystals on the walls.

“Red, do you have a list of the victims’ addresses?” she asked as she started calling up enlarged images.

“There’s a list that they had in their little hideout,” Red said, pulling a couple of photographs out of his pocket.

“Thank you,” Twilight said, lifting the pictures up to her eyes. “Stellar, can you call up the camera on Sixth and Bluebell?”

Stellar glanced over Twilight’s shoulder at the lists. “You’d get a better view from the one on Carrot.”

“Oh, good idea,” Twilight smiled, switching view. Before long, she and the dispatcher had called up several views from around the homes of Blasting Cap’s targets.

“Now…” Twilight lit up her horn and the images began to rewind, cars and ponies moving backward at a comically fast pace.

“Just use a simple Mind’s Eye spell and combine it with a Seeker…” A three-dimensional image of a Chevroneigh pickup truck, painted white and its left headlight cracked, appeared before Twilight, slowly spinning in place as her eyes panned from one screen to the next.

“There!” she cried, pointing at one frozen screen. A battered Chevroneigh truck, its sloppy, hastily applied white coat uneven with its original yellow color poking out through small holes, its headlight covered in duct tape, was heading up Bluebell avenue.

“That’s…” Red consulted his list. “Oh, hell. That’s where Blue Rose and her kid live.”

“So I’m okay,” Silverstream said over the phone. “That’s definitely the last time I go into the Under, though!”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Ocellus sighed, rubbing her forehead as her semitransparent wings buzzed. She, Blue Rose and Sandbar were gathered around the table at their house, the phone resting atop the table. The curtains were drawn, allowing the changelings to resume their natural forms.

“Hey, at least you had an adventure with cousin Flash and Daring Do!” Sandbar said, glowing with excitement.

“Sandbar!” Ocellus scolded.

“It was kinda cool,” Silverstream admitted, then coughed sharply. “Anyway, the docs are just gonna keep me here for a bit to help my wing get back into shape and make sure I didn’t inhale too much smoke.”

“I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Ocellus said.

“Silverstream, I want to thank you for going after these guys for our sake,” Blue Rose said. “It means a lot, having friends who are willing to do that for my daughter. Just don’t ever do something that stupid again.”

“Yes, Miss Rose,” Silverstream replied sheepishly.

“Now,” Rose said with a grin that Ocellus shared. “Tell us about that ‘cute griffon colt’ that brought you to the hospital.”

Silverstream’s blush was audible in the brief pause that followed. “Uh...I gotta go, doctor’s here, bye!” And she hung up with a sharp click, leaving the trio chuckling around the table.

A car growled past the entrance of the block, the tires hissing as they passed over the wet asphalt, and Blue Rose immediately tensed up, her eyes locking onto the covered window. Her wings fluttered for an instant, producing an anxious buzzing noise.

“Mom, relax,” Ocellus soothed, resting a hoof on her foreleg.

“Right...right,” Blue Rose sighed, sitting back down and rubbing her face with both hooves. The room was silent for several long seconds that stretched into awkwardness, the rain underlining the pause.

“Um...do you want me to leave?” Sandbar offered lamely.

“No, you don’t have to,” Ocellus protested.

“I’d rather you didn’t walk home alone, dear,” Blue Rose said, lowering her hooves. “I can call a taxi for you to take.”

“Oh, thanks, Miss Rose,” Sandbar smiled. “I’ll pay you back for this.”

The elder changeling smiled at him. “I just want you to--”

Blue Rose suddenly froze, sniffing the air. Her blue eyes narrowed and turned towards the door. Ocellus sniffed the air as well, her eyes widening as they locked on the door and her wings starting to buzz to produce an agitated humming.

“Ocellus, Sandbar, get in the bedroom,” she ordered, rising and lighting up her horn. A baseball bat leaning against the wall next to the door flew over to her waiting hooves.

“Come on,” Ocellus urged Sandbar, grabbing his foreleg and dragging him down the hallway, her jaw clenched and her eyes burning with fear, but her movements smooth with reflex. They entered her bedroom, a small, plain room with books spread all over the small bed and the desk in the corner, the thin walls decorated with posters from book franchises, the most recent being a splash page featuring a silvery-gray pegasus mare grinning as she snatched a golden goblet decorated with griffons from a snarling unicorn with a black goatee. Ocellus quickly shut the door, clicked the lock shut, then dragged over a chair and shoved it beneath the doorknob.

“Hide beneath the bed and stay quiet,” Ocellus whispered to Sandbar, her tone even as she opened the window with her magic, allowing cold wind and rain to enter. Sandbar shook his head and refocused, quickly wriggling beneath the bed. He laid as still as he could, tugging his tail beneath the mattress; his heart pounded against the thin carpet like a jackhammer, and he covered his mouth with a hoof to muffle his frantic breathing. Turquoise flames flared for a moment next to him, and a moment later, Ocellus was replaced with a hoof locker sitting on the floor beside the desk.

Then he heard a great crashing as the front door was smashed in. Sandbar heard Blue Rose roar and a loud crack as a bat smashed against the wall.

Then there was a crackle of energy and Blue Rose let out a muted scream. The bat clattered to the floor and then a body slumped to the floor. Sandbar gasped and swallowed, nausea suddenly writhing in his stomach.

“Bitch!” he heard a male voice snarl, followed by hoofsteps stomping down the hallway. The doorknob rattled, then the door shook in its frame. Sandbar felt like his heart was going to leap out of his throat.

The door shook twice with two great booms like a giant hammer was striking it, then the cheap wood exploded into a shower of slivers, destroyed by a bright purple cannonball. Sandbar had to cover his mouth with both hooves to muffle his scream as a tall black unicorn in a brown trench coat entered, his blue eyes burning with hate as he glared around the room, limping on his left hind leg, which was twisted to the outside at an unnatural angle. His bushy red and yellow beard rustled as he breathed through gritted teeth, head swinging back and forth, water dripping from his form; Sandbar swore he could smell his breath, reeking of halitosis and tobacco.

The stallion’s eyes fell on the open window and he growled as he ran over, climbing atop the hoof locker and sticking his head out the window, looking back and forth.

“Damn!” The bearded unicorn climbed back down onto the floor, but paused and glared around the room once more, his eyes checking every corner twice.

Just go, man, Sandbar silently pleaded, still covering his mouth with his hooves. There’s nothing else here, just go.

But the stallion’s eyes were focusing on the locker with a suspicious scowl. His horn lit up with a dark purple aura, the magic crackling like flames.

Purple fire lit up beneath the hoof locker, hissing and spitting, their heat striking Sandbar like a slap in the face. He gasped quietly, staring in horror as the fire continued to boil beneath the locker.

A second later, the purple flames were joined by blue and Ocellus, yelping in pain and terror, flew for the window. She only made it a few feet before a purple line of magic snaked through the air and wrapped itself around her neck, dragging her back inside.

“I’m wise to your tricks, freak,” the stallion snarled to the choking filly, turning to drag her along.

Gasping for air, clawing at the magical leash, Ocellus grabbed the leg of the desk and hung on for her life. She turned and her eyes, filled with tears of mixed pain and fear, locked onto Sandbar, pleading for help. Sandbar was frozen, staring back at her, clinging to the thin carpet as if he was afraid that he would be dragged away as well.

“Come on!” the kidnapper snarled, giving Ocellus a sharp tug with his magic. She let out a strangled cry, desperately trying to grab something.

And Sandbar swallowed back his panic and did something that was both very brave and very stupid. He leaped out from beneath the bed, latched onto the kidnapper’s twisted hind leg, and bit down as hard as he could.

The stallion roared in anger and struck Sandbar on the side of his head, screaming once more as the colt yanked out a large section of his flesh. “Little bastard!” the intruder bellowed, turning and grabbing Sandbar around the neck with both hooves. Sandbar choked and desperately tried to push the great weight off him, staring up at the rage-filled bearded face and seeing his own reflection in the bloodshot blue eyes…

And then a shadow fell over them both. Both stallions looked up and gaped in shock at the great beast before them: an arctic blue lion with great bat-like wings and a scorpion’s stinger for a tail.

A moment later, the bearded stallion was flung out of the room like a rag doll and smashed into the opposite wall, crashing to the floor with a grunt. Huffing and panting, he scrambled to his hooves and fired a wave of purple energy at the manticore, who collapsed to the floor with a grunt of pain. Ocellus shapeshifted back to her normal form, shaking her head as she fought through the pain.

Sandbar sat up, coughing and rubbing the vicious red marks on his neck as the intruder sprinted back down the hallway, grunting with every step of his wounded leg. Ocellus pushed herself back up to all fours, grimacing. “Are you okay?!” she cried to Sandbar, voice high with hysteria.

Sandbar coughed and tried to rasp out a response, but the words could not pass his burning throat, so he merely nodded in response. Ocellus flew out after the intruder, reentering the main hall just in time to see him seizing the unconscious Blue Rose in his magic.

“Mom!” Ocellus shrieked.

The stallion whipped around, drawing a pistol with a makeshift silencer made of a thick cloth wrapped around the barrel from beneath his coat. Ocellus yelped and dove back into her bedroom as the weapon went off with two muted cracks, bullets smacking into the wall behind her.

“I’ll be back for you, little bitch,” she heard the rough voice snarling. “Your mother will--”

There came a sharp whistling sound and a grunt as something heavy crashed into bone. Hooves pounded into flesh like a drum solo at a rock concert, then a body thumped to the floor. Ocellus and Sandbar lay frozen, staring at each other.

“Ocellus?” a male voice called from outside.

“It’s okay, we got him,” a female voice said.

Ocellus and Sandbar both tentatively peeked out and saw the bearded unicorn laying facedown on the ground as an orange pegasus cuffed the intruder’s hooves. A golden pegasus was retrieving his pistol from the corner, emptying the magazine and ejecting the chambered round.

“Cuz!” Sandbar cried at the sight of Flash, his cry turning into a coughing fit as he fixed his amazed eyes on Daring Do. She gave him a red-faced grin, wiping sweat from her brow.

“You two okay?” Flash asked as he finished patting down the intruder.

Ocellus just nodded numbly, slowly sagging to the floor. Sandbar hugged her, gently stroking her back as a red pegasus flew up, puffing and sweating.

“You got him?” Red Herring asked, landing behind Flash and Daring.

“I got him,” Flash confirmed, bending down to check on Blue Rose. The changeling moaned and feebly opened her eyes.

“Officer Sentry?” she moaned, then sat up suddenly. “Ocellus?!”

“Mom!” Ocellus cried, rushing over and hugging her tightly.

“Nice throw, Daring,” Red commented. “I gotta get me one of those boomerang things. Think Cold can make them standard issue?”

“You’d just smash a window,” Daring jabbed back.

“Speaking from experience?” Red smirked back.

Flash glanced down at the bleeding bite mark on Blasting Cap’s leg and looked over at Sandbar, noting the blood on his lips. He shot his cousin a grin. “Think you’ve got the makings of a hero in you, cuz.”

Sandbar slumped to the floor, taking slow, deep breaths to try to relieve some of the weight crushing his ribs. “I think...I’ll leave that to your side of the family,” he nodded feebly.

Author's Note

Yeah, Sandbar, I think you and Silverstream aren't really suited to be youthful adventurers just yet.

Sorry about the delay, dear readers! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter regardless: maybe the anticipation helped put some flavor into it! If you liked it, please leave a like and a comment!

Case Sixteen, Chapter Eight: A New Song

Up on the fourth floor of Ponyville Hospital, an aqua blue changeling in a white coat bent over his black coated kin, frowning as he listened to his resting patient’s breathing.

“Buzz?” Phillip asked as he and Daring entered.

The changeling opened one blue eye and managed to smile. “Hey, detectives,” he groaned, sitting up in bed. “Glad you came to see me.” He glanced down at his rough, perforated forelimb with a self-conscious frown. “Even if I’m not at my best.”

“No worries,” Phillip smiled, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him, removing his new trilby as he sat. “You doing okay here, doc?”

“Unfortunately, the doctors here know little about changeling biology,” Asclepius stated. “A result of years of secrecy on our part and tense relations between Equestria and the New Changeling Empire. I’ve been coming here to take care of him.” He glanced up as a nurse passed by outside the room. The young mare paused and gawked for a moment, then quickly moved on, burying her face into her clipboard. “Some of them have been...more accepting than others,” Asclepius commented bitterly.

“I’m alive because of you, doc,” Buzz said with a grateful smile.

“Is that honey?” Daring asked, blinking at the IV stand in the corner. A bag filled with a thick, green-yellow syrup was dangling from the stand, emanating a faint, sweet odor. A tube led from the bag to Buzz’s forelimb.

“Some of my own,” Doctor Asclepius explained, running a hoof through his blonde “mane.” Phil and Daring both noticed that the doctor’s colors were dulled, and his hind legs and wings had become rough and jagged. “We produce honey to feed our young, but it makes good medicine or emergency food to sick or wounded changelings. Some of the doctors here are asking me about medical applications for it.”

Buzz sat up straighter in bed. “You didn’t come here to just shoot the breeze, detectives. What’s up?”

“We caught the guys,” Phillip said.

Daring cleared her throat. “Okay, you caught the guys,” Phillip said with an exasperated smile and a roll of his eyes. “Point is, they can’t hurt anyone else.”

Buzz and Asclepius both gave relieved sighs, their shoulders sagging as the weight of worry was released. “And did anyone else--?” Buzz started to ask.

“No one else died,” Daring reassured him.

“Great,” Buzz nodded. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, his relieved smile dissipating.

“What’s wrong?” Daring asked.

“I’m just thinking of what this could mean to changelings here in the city,” he admitted. “To other changelings in Equestria. After the war, when Chrysalis died and King Thorax took over the Empire and started trying to make alliances with Equestria, I had hope that one day we’d be accepted...that we wouldn’t need to hide.”

“Plenty of ponies saw you dive on top of a bomb to save their lives,” Phillip said. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you; dinky-di, that’s the second time you’ve saved us. Far as I’m concerned, mate, you’re a hero.”

“But you’re only a few ponies,” Asclepius pointed out.

“There’s always gonna be guys who judge you, no matter what,” Daring said with a bitter undertone, glancing down at her right foreleg. “But you don’t deserve to hide forever. Especially not after what you did.”

“Look up a friend, Autumn Blaze,” Phillip suggested. “She can help you say your side of the story.”

Buzz and Asclepius both looked at each other for a few moments, then Buzz smiled. “I’d like that.”

Exclusive Interview: The Changeling Who Saved Phillip Finder and Daring Do’s Lives!

Daring chuckled and shook her head, staring down at the evening edition of the Foal Free Press spread out before her. “Had to lay it on thick, didn’t you, Autumn?” she asked.

“Well, I had to say something to grab ponies attention!” the kirin next to her replied, foam from her beer comically clinging to her lip like a mustache. “Honestly, it was really good of you to get me that interview. Ponies need to know that they needn’t be afraid of changelings anymore.”

“Myself included,” a red-faced Applejack commented from the other side of the Apple Pie’s bar. “I feel right embarrassed that I shot at that poor fella when I saw him last year. You think you could pass along an apology to him for me?”

“Will do,” Phillip replied from his seat next to Daring.

“Detectives!”

Phil and Daring turned just in time to receive two tight hugs. “Thank you!” Ocellus cried, clenching her forearms around Phillip’s neck.

“No worries,” Phillip choked out, giving the blue pegasus a few pats on the back. “Ocellus, it’s only been a couple days since I inhaled a lot of smoke.”

“Sorry!” she squeaked, quickly releasing him.

“I can’t thank either of you enough,” the white unicorn beamed at Daring.

“You can start by not dragging us into any more ambushes,” Daring replied.

Rose gave a guilty grin and nodded. “Will do.” Her eyes settled on the paper.

“Buzz says in that interview that he hopes changelings can one day walk around without needing a disguise,” she commented with a sad smile. “I hope that Ocellus gets to see that day.”

“Come on, Miss Rose!” Silverstream called from the stage, where she and the other two costumed dancers had already set up with Octavia and Vinyl.

“I gotta go,” Rose stated, giving the detectives a final nod before hopping up on stage, Ocellus trotted over to a waiting Sandbar, taking a seat next to him. Silverstream smoothed out her dress, then smiled and waved at a blue griffon who was sitting in the corner with Bumblebee. Gallus turned slightly pink but waved back briefly with a small smile.

“You really think that that day will come?” Daring asked.

“Maybe things’ll get better,” Phillip said.

“I know they will,” Autumn declared, striking a bold pose in her stool. “This interview, it’s the first step towards that. I have a dream where one day all creatures will be judged not by their species, but by the content of their character! I have a dream that one day all nations will live up to the creed, ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all creatures are created equal!’”

Everypony stared at the kirin for a moment, who blushed and ran a hoof through her bushy mane. “Sorry. I get carried away,” she chuckled.

The New Flappers swung into their performance, the onlookers applauding as Blue Rose once again welcomed them to St. Megan’s Ballroom. “Oooh, I love this song!” Autumn chirped, immediately getting up and heading to the dance floor. As Phil and Daring watched, Twilight and Flash stood up from their seat and joined Autumn on the dance floor, Flash leading Twilight in a jitterbug, both ponies blushing and laughing as they stumbled over each other, clearly having a good time regardless. A little while later, Sandbar and Ocellus joined them, Sandbar’s green eyes starstruck as Ocellus guided him through a Whinny Hop, her shy smile becoming broader by the moment.

Phillip glanced over at Daring, who returned his gaze with a raised eyebrow. After a moment, she sighed and set her glass down. “Okay, fine.”

Smiling, Phillip led her over to the dance floor, drawing a cheer from Pinkie Pie. They both paused for a moment, staring at each other, then Phillip started with a quick sidestep that Daring mimicked before they separated, kicking their legs out. With every movement, every step and bob and kick made in time to Blue Rose’s voice and Octavia and Vinyl’s music, their worries started to melt away a little bit, and Daring’s smile grew as Rose whirled into the chorus:

“And I don’t know wha-what you do,
I like everything ‘bout you,
Your smile, your face, your bod, your moves,
How you tip and tap your shoes!
I know what you do to me:
Mister, you make me crazy…”

Phillip pulled Daring into him and dipped her, causing a bout of laughter as she leaned back, eyes closed to savor this moment. She opened her eyes to find his face close to hers, noticing Flash and Twilight behind him beaming at each other, nose to nose.

“Now kiss me at Saint Megan’s Ballroom!”

Four lovers’ lips met in a kiss, while Ocellus and Sandbar continued to dance, both of them blushing and giggling as Blue Rose looked on in glowing approval. All was well with the world.

Author's Note

Nothing special, just a quick wrap-up for this case.

This case was a pretty hard slog for me, and I won't lie, there were times when I considered dropping it altogether. but for the most part, I'm proud to finally bring a case to the table that shows off some changeling lore in this universe, and bringing some of the Student Six to the cast! I hope that you enjoyed this case and are looking forward to the next one!

And here's a couple of bonus chapters featuring Prowl and Captain Oak!

Case Seventeen, Prologue: A New Mission

“You know what this means, sir.”

The white-bearded green unicorn stared out of the window into the crystalline streets. The dark purple street reflected the light from the ancient stone street lamps, the oil wicks long replaced by electric lamps, and the twilight sky so that the ponies outside seemed to be walking among the stars as they returned to their homes.

“They’re looking for the Mirror,” he stated grimly, turning back to the newspaper lying faceup on the table next to him. Splashed across the front page of the Stella del Nord was his face, surprise etched onto the traitor’s face as he emerged from the western leg of the Crystal Palace, his uniformed gendarme already striding towards the reporter to shoo him away.

The blonde pegasus sitting on the dilapidated yellow sofa nodded. “And who knows what they’re going to do with that once they find it,” he said with a scowl that emphasized the vicious red scar on his white jaw.

“The Emperor and Empress say that they’ll have it stored safely and destroyed,” the bearded stallion tried to protest.

“We all thought Sombra was trustworthy,” the pegasus snapped back, rising up from his seat. “For all we know, there could be somepony in the court who’s still loyal to him. General Lake might still be alive!”

“Sergeant,” the unicorn chided, glaring at his companion in the reflection of his window.

The pegasus sighed and mopped his brow, sitting down. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “But we can’t allow this to happen. If that thing disappears into the Palace, it’ll fall right into their hooves. Into General Lake’s hooves. We have to destroy it ourselves.”

The elder stallion panned his gaze across the street, watching the lights in the windows of the houses outside piercing the darkness. In the distance, the cold blue spire of the Palace pointed a finger to the sky. Once, he could’ve seen the flag fluttering atop the spire, the sight of the white snowflake against the royal purple background filling his heart with joy. Now he had to squint just to see the fluttering purple dot.

He’d gotten old in the service of his nation. But not feeble. And he wasn’t about to stand by and let this monster work in the shadows.

“You’re right,” he agreed, heading over to the closet and opening it wide.

“We’re gonna have to track him and follow him to the site,” the pegasus mused, glaring at the newspaper. “If he’s getting assistance from Cuore University, they--”

“You know me, Sergeant,” the unicorn said, bending down and gently pushing aside the ironed green uniform with three golden stars on the sleeves to reveal the battered steel box on the floor. He unlatched the box and opened it wide, studying the contents.

The boxes of bullets were all neatly stacked aside. The trio of knives sat in their sheaths; though he could not see them, he knew the blades were polished to gleaming. The magazines were already loaded and set next to the two pistols. But the only item he picked up was the disassembled rifle, lifting the barrel up to his eye to reassure himself that the focusing lens was clean and there wasn’t any carbon buildup inside.

“I like to be more direct,” he said, carefully screwing the barrel into the receiver.

The sergeant grinned, his gray eyes reflecting the glow of one of the red crystals that his captain pulled from the box. “Yes, you do, sir,” he admitted as the elder stallion pulled back the bolt with a smooth click and carefully inserted the crystal into the firing chamber. “It’s what I loved about serving with you.”

Author's Note

Well, this can't be good.

We're finally heading to the frozen north, folks! A fitting period for this weather and season. This case is going to be one of the weirdest yet, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it!

Case Seventeen, Chapter One: Welcome to Cuore

Beneath them were rolling, snow-covered hills that glimmered under the light of the slowly dipping sun, the small villages constructed of a rainbow of crystalline stone looking like toy sets beneath them. The buzzing of the plane’s engines droned in the background, the noise lulling some of the passengers to sleep.

Some passengers preferred to add to the noise with low groans.

“Why did I eat so much?” Daring moaned, holding her stomach and slowly rocking back and forth in her seat, her face green.

“I warned you,” Phillip said, shaking his head.

“Been a while since I’ve taken a plane, though,” Daring admitted, turning and looking out the window. “Are we almost there?”

“We should be landing in a few minutes,” Twilight reassured them from across the aisle, her nose buried in a book entitled Marked by Darkness: Curse Marks and How to Break Them.

“You think that’s gonna be enough time for you to get all your notes repacked and organized?” Spike smirked from the seat next to her, looking over the mass of journals, scrolls, pens, books, and index cards scattered over the table in front of them.

“Spike, I have a very thorough and efficient filing system,” Twilight replied with a roll of her eyes. “I might be able to find one for your trading cards.”

Spike frowned at his assortment of multicolored baseball and hoofball trading cards, all of them haphazardly spread across the table like the aftermath of a tornado. “I do have a filing system for this,” he grumbled.

“Stuffing them all into your backpack is not a filing system,” Twilight snarked.

Spike stuck his forked tongue out at her, then turned to study his collection. “Hey, Flash, think Shining Armor will trade two Sid Luckcolts and a Charley “Trippy” Horse for a Clydesdale “Minotaur” Trotter?”

Flash Sentry did not answer, staring out the window in mute contemplation instead, fidgeting in his seat and chewing on his wing.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked, looking up over her book.

“What if they don’t like me?” Flash asked nervously, turning to her with wide eyes.

Twilight smiled and gently used her magic to pull his wing away from his mouth. “Flash, Cadance is the sweetest mare I know, and my BBBFF has been eager to meet you; he was really upset that he didn't get a chance to meet you when he visited Ponyville last time.”

“Because he wants to kill me,” Flash muttered.

Twilight let out an amused snort. “No, because he wants to meet you and make friends with you,” she said, using her magic to gently smooth and preen his ruffled feathers. “Would they have invited you if they didn’t want to meet you?”

Flash closed his eyes and let out a low sigh as Twilight massaged his feathered appendages. “But what if I mess it up?” he asked.

Twilight leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the lips. “Just be yourself, Flash,” she reassured him. “You’ll see you don’t have to worry.”

“You’ve faced gangsters, zombies, and monsters. Why is this so scary for you?” Spike asked.

“None of those guys were emperors,” Flash replied.

The PA system chimed. “Ladies and gentleponies, we’re beginning our final descent in Cuore. Please return your seats to the upright position and fasten your seatbelts.”

“Oh, thank Faust,” Daring sighed as she clicked her seatbelt back over her waist.

The plane tilted and slowly dipped down. Out the window, the passengers could see the capital city of the Crystal Empire beneath them, the pristine crystal buildings growing larger by the moment. The smooth-cut stone shone in a rainbow array, the breathtaking beauty looking like a display in a high-quality metalworking store window. The emerald grass and flowers of the city stretched out in a circle around it, forming an island amidst the sea of snow. The eye was immediately drawn to the spires of the Crystal Palace, standing over the city like a watchful sentinel.

“Crikey,” Phillip breathed, staring out the window in awe.

“Yeah, me too,” Daring nodded, eyes wide as she drank in the sight. Flash’s jaw hung open as he stared at their destination.

“Now, Spike, no eating the buildings this time,” Twilight said as the plane landed with a bump.

“Yes, Twilight,” Spike grumbled, wiping some drool away from his mouth.

The plane slowly trundled along the runway and pulled up to the terminal. “Welcome to Cuore, ladies and gentleponies,” the flight attendant beamed from the front of the plane. “Please disembark in an orderly manner. Thank you for choosing Equestrian Airways and have a pleasant trip.”

Phillip stood up and retrieved his and Daring’s saddlebags from the overhead compartment as Twilight and Spike gathered up their materials and placed them in their backpacks. The four ponies and one dragon joined the line of disembarking passengers and descended the steps into the surprisingly warm air of the Crystal Empire summer.

“Thought it’d be colder,” Daring commented, fluttering her wings as she exited, her face quickly returning to its normal color now that her hooves were on the ground.

“The magic of the Crystal Heart keeps the empire from being frozen over,” Twilight explained. “The capital is kept warm for most of the year because this is where most of the magic is being concentrated.”

“I think I see our welcoming committee,” Spike said, pointing. A turquoise mare in a purple uniform was standing a few yards away from the line of passengers, holding up a sign with Twilight’s cutie mark.

“Twilight Sparkle?” the mare greeted them as they approached, giving Twilight a courteous bow. “Welcome back to the Crystal Empire, signorina. The Empress is waiting for you and your friends. Please follow me.”

“I still can’t believe that the Crystal Empress was your foalsitter,” Flash commented as they followed the uniformed mare.

“Cadance wanted to have a normal job while she was at the Royal Academy of Magic,” Twilight explained. “She was the best foalsitter in Canterlot.”

Flash grinned at Spike. “I imagine that the two of you gave her a lot of experience.”

Spike giggled. “Remember the peanut butter ice cream avalanche, Twilight?”

“Yes, Spike, as much as I’d prefer not to,” Twilight said, her cheeks coloring as their guide beckoned them into a terminal.

When they entered through the glass doors, they beheld a wide terminal, decorated with maps of the Crystal Empire and its cities, with cushioned chairs of precious stone, so smoothly carved that they seemed almost wholly natural. Posted on one wall was the flag of the Crystal Empire, a blue snowflake on a purple background.

The only ponies in the terminal were an entourage of ponies in purple suits surrounding a tall pink mare adorned in a golden peytral and shoes, and a tiara with a purple gem. Phillip, Daring, and Flash had all seen photographs of Empress Mi Amore Cadenza, but they had all failed to adequately capture the beauty of the young alicorn, with her long mane of three bright colors, vivacious violet eyes, and her beatific face, now lit up with a smile upon seeing Twilight.

“Cadance!” Twilight cried with joy, rushing up to her. The two mares faced each other and began to perform a dance, bouncing on all hooves.

“Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake!” they both chanted. “Clap your hooves and do a little shake!” Giggling like schoolfillies, the two embraced each other.

“So good to see you, Twilight!” Cadenza cried, kissing Twilight on both cheeks. “Hey, Spike!”

“Hi, Cadance!” Spike said, rushing up to hug her, receiving a warm embrace and a kiss in turn.

The Empress turned to Flash Sentry. “You must be Flash Sentry,” she said, beaming.

Flash gulped, his face going pale as fast as a switch being thrown. “G-g-greetings, Y-Your Highness,” he stammered, kneeling and watching his life flash before his eyes.

The alicorn giggled. “Please, you can call me Cadance!” she declared, striding over and extending a wing to pull Flash into a hug, kissing him on both cheeks. “I’m so glad to finally meet you! Twilight has told me so much about you!”

“She has?” Flash swallowed, remaining limp in Cadance’s embrace.

“All good things, don’t worry,” Cadance said, giving him a playful boop. “You and I have a lot to talk about!”

Flash looked like he was about to faint, but managed to force out a weak smile. “I’m...l-looking forward to it!” he squeaked.

“Good!” Cadance said. “I’m sure we’re going to be best of friends by the end of the week.”

Releasing Flash, the Empress then turned to Phillip and Daring, who had watched the exchange from a few feet away. “Detective Do, Detective Finder,” she smiled. “Welcome to the Crystal Empire.”

Daring and Phillip both knelt. “Grazie, Imperatrice Cadenza,” Daring recited.

“Prego, but please, Equestrian is fine,” Cadance waved away the formality. “You two are famous even this far north; I’ve been looking forward to meeting you as well.” Her face fell into more serious lines and she stepped forward. “But, I’m sure you want to talk about why you came up here. Please, may I see it?”

Daring frowned and took a slow breath. Phillip placed his hoof on her back with a reassuring weight; she gave him a brief smile, then slowly raised up her right hoof.

Cadance’s eyes fell upon the keyring-shaped brand marked into Daring’s skin and she let out a sympathetic hiss of breath. “I’m so sorry that that happened to you,” she said.

Daring just grunted.

“Twilight, did you bring the iron?” Cadance asked, lighting up her horn and sweeping the brand with a beam of azure light.

“Took me a while to dig it out of Ponyville’s evidence collections,” Twilight commented, digging around in the suitcase that she’d packed. “I’m just glad that they didn’t already destroy it. Ah, found it.”

Daring felt a shudder run down her spine as she watched Twilight pull the long metal rod out of the enchanted suitcase, holding it by the handle in her mouth. The long black length was speckled with rust, the cord attached to the end eaten away by mold and time. At the end was the brand itself, the shaped metal magically heating up in response to Twilight’s touch. Her breath caught, cold and sharp in her chest, and she started instinctively pawing her right hoof against the ground as the scar began to itch and burn, pain creeping through her veins.

Cadance scowled as she gently took the iron in her magic. “Yes, definitely got some traces of psychomancy in there,” she nodded.

“I think that whoever originally made the brand intended to use it as a way to inflict a mind-control spell on whoever was branded with it,” Twilight said. “Thankfully, it wasn’t complete.”

“Is that why it burns?” Daring asked, gritting her teeth against the creeping pain.

“I believe so, yes,” Twilight nodded grimly. “That’s also why this is hard to remove; it’s not just a mark, part of its magic is affecting your mind.”

“Well, I guess that kinda explains a lot,” Daring commented with a feeble attempt at a dry smile.

Cadance put a comforting wing around Daring’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Daring,” Cadance said. “Twilight, Shining, and I will find a way to fix this. With the help of the Crystal Heart, we’ll get that brand off you. I promise.”

Daring didn’t say anything, trying to crush the little flicker of hope that was rising up through her chest, killing it so she wouldn’t be disappointed by the inevitable failure that was to come.

“Why don’t we get you settled in your rooms?” Cadance said, releasing Daring.

“You don’t have to house us in the Palace, Your Highness,” Phillip protested.

“Think nothing of it!” Cadance waved him off, leading her entourage to the terminal exit, where a limousine with two Crystal Empire flags mounted on the hood waited, the chauffeur holding the door open for them. “Any friends of Twilight are friends of mine, and besides, Shining Armor has been looking forward to meeting all of you. Especially you, Flash,” she added with a wink and a giggle as she beckoned for her guests to enter first.

Flash’s eyes bulged and he gulped, slowly climbing into the magically enlarged space with the gravitas of a pony heading to the gallows.

Daring sighed as she collapsed onto the massive queen bed, the cloudy comfort of the giant mattress contrasted by the crystalline frame with the jeweled snowflake embedded into the headboard. “I could get used to this,” she said, stretching in cat-like contentment.

“The hell is this?” Phillip muttered from the adjoining bathroom, which was as large as the living room and kitchen of 221 Honeybee Bakery (every appliance was, of course, constructed of blue-white crystal). He was currently puzzling over what looked like a second toilet next to the actual toilet, but it had a faucet and no lid on it. “Why’d they put two dunnies in here?” he asked.

“It’s called a bidet,” Daring said with an amused snort, cracking open one eye.

Phillip pressed the faucet handle and jumped back when a spout of water shot up from the bowl. “Oh,” he nodded in understanding, causing Daring to start hooting with laughter.

There was a rapping at the door. “Yes?” Daring called, recovering herself.

Twilight opened the door. “Daring, we’re almost ready to try our spell. Come on, I want you to meet Shining!”

Daring took a breath and stared at her right hoof for a moment. The mark of her past, of her sins, stared pitilessly back at her, where it would remain.

“Daring?” Twilight repeated.

“Yeah,” Daring said, rising from the bed. She and Phillip followed Twilight down the twisting hallways of the Palace, heading down twisting stairs into the depths of the building.

When they emerged onto a lower floor, they found themselves in a great gymnasium, with indoor courts for racquetball, tennis, and basketball, and separate doors leading to lockers, a large pool, and a sauna. The muffled sounds of combat could be heard from ahead, becoming louder as they followed Twilight down a hallway.

They entered a door and beheld a large room with padded floors and striking bags and targets hanging and standing along the walls. Two large boxing rings stood up above the floor. On the farther one, a great battle took place.

A white stallion with the cutie mark of a star embossed on a shield stood in the center of the ring, his long blue mane tied back in a ponytail that flowed out from beneath his sparring helmet, a restraining ring on his horn, and a grin on his face. He ducked and dodged attacks from five ponies in sparring gear, moving as fluidly as though he already knew where the attacks were coming from.

As the visitors trotted up to watch, a red earth stallion swung at Shining Armor from behind with a foam club. The white stallion ducked and struck out with a left hind leg that was crystal from the mid-thigh down. The limb struck the attacker’s padded chest with a heavy thump, sending him flying into the corner with a cry of surprise.

Flash stared wide-eyed as Shining Armor continued to spar, fending off three attackers at once as a pegasus mare managed to dive in and tried unsuccessfully to pinion his forelegs. Flash gulped, his knees trembling a little as he watched his marefriend’s brother clock a stallion a full head taller than him in the face and shove him in the path of one of his partners before throwing the mare grappling with him across the ring to smash into the red stallion like a bowling ball striking a pin.

“He’ll be done in a couple of minutes,” Cadance said from a target range on the other side of the room, holding a bow made of blue crystal in her hooves. As the visitors watched, she magically conjured an arrow made of the same stone, already nocked into the string, and drew the weapon up, pulling the string back to her cheek. She took aim, exhaled slowly to steady herself, and fired. The arrow streaked through the air and struck the bullseye of the target a hundred yards away, joining a cluster of its siblings the size of a bit coin in the center of the target.

“Oh,” Flash squeaked out as four of Shining’s sparring partners were all tossed into a pile. “Good." He gulped. "What I wouldn't give to be on a case right now again..."

Shining Armor traded punches with the last standing sparring partner for a few moments, then tipped him over onto his back with a takedown and pinned him down, drawing a hoof back to strike. “Yield!” he ordered.

The red stallion glared up at him for a moment, then grinned. “You were holding back, General,” he said, allowing Shining to help him up.

“Didn’t want to do any permanent damage, Ruby,” Shining replied as the others all climbed back to their hooves, groaning and massaging bruises. “You’re improving, though. You lasted a lot longer this time.”

“Thank you, General,” Ruby groaned, cricking out his neck. “But I think your guests are waiting for you.”

Pulling off his sparring gear and running a towel through his damp mane, a beaming Shining leaped over the ropes of the ring to his sister. “Hey, LSBFF!” he cried, pulling Twilight into a tight hug that she returned, flinging her arms tightly around his neck.

Twilight kissed Shining on his cheek. “Did you do that research into Falcon’s Theorem that I asked about in our last letter?” she asked eagerly.

“Yeah, but I think that you’re still better off using Meadowbrook’s Unifying Formula for those vest wards,” Shining grinned. “Hey, Spike!”

“I hope you’re ready to give up that Night Train card,” Spike grinned as Shining wrapped him in an embrace and gave him a playful noogie.

He turned to Flash Sentry, his countenance turning to a severe scowl. “So you’re the stallion that my sister is dating,” he spoke in a low rumble.

Flash gulped, his hind knees trembling, swaying in place as though he might faint. “Shining…” Twilight chided.

Shining continued to scowl at Flash for a few more moments of tense silence, then grinned at him and extended a foreleg to him. “C’mere, you!” he declared.

Flash hesitated for a moment, then cautiously trotted towards him, a nervous grin flitting across his face. Shining pulled Flash into his embrace, giving him a warm squeeze. “How are you?” he asked. "I missed you last time I came down to Ponyville!"

“I’m okay,” Flash squeaked out, his face red both from worry and because Shining was crushing his lungs.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time,” Shining smiled at him. “I want to thank you for keeping my little sister safe.”

“You’re welcome,” Flash said, his voice managing to lower to a more normal octave.

Shining finally turned to the other two guests, who both bent to kneel. “Detectives,” he said, stepping forward with his hoof extended. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, too.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Phillip nodded, shaking his hoof. “Thank you for agreeing to help her.”

Shining paused in his hoofshake with Daring to examine the brand, nodding thoughtfully. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “Between the three of us, I’m sure we can get that off.”

“Maybe,” Daring shrugged, trying to keep that squirming lightness down in her gut so it wouldn’t be crushed later.

“Hey, you’ve got two valedictorians and one salutatorian from the Royal Academy of Magic here,” Shining grinned. “If anypony can do it, it’s us.”

Daring remained silent, struggling with herself. She’d learned how to master pain and discomfort long ago, forcing herself not to feel the guilt and discomfort that came from being a sister of the Family...of a killer. But squashing down hope, the tantalizing promise that she might be free of that cursed mark on her heart...that was something she’d never had to do before.

“How about we get started?” Shining offered.

“Let’s,” Cadance nodded with a smile. “Come. It’s time to see the Crystal Heart yourself.”

They ascended an elevator to the top floor of the Crystal Palace, exiting into a long hallway manned by a trio of Crystal Guards in full armor and gear. The walls were decorated with paintings depicting the history of the Crystal Empire: the nomadic tribes that wandered the snowy north, gathering in tents wherever they could find food and supplies. Empress Speranza laying the foundations of Cuore. Her daughter Empress Amore carving the Crystal Heart, using its amplified light and power to melt away the snow. The Crystalling of Empress Cadenza, the pink unicorn filly being presented to the citizens of the empire by Amore and her father, Emperor Stella Nascente. Celestia, Luna, and Cadance defeating Sombra, crushing the shadowy wraith with the curved red horn and hate-filled green eyes beneath their combined magic. The wedding of Cadance and Shining Armor, Chrysalis’ invaders sent flying by a wave of blue magic.

The guards all snapped to attention before the Emperor and Empress as they entered, hooves slamming against the ground in perfect unison. “At ease,” Shining said with a nod, gesturing for his guests to step through the Netitus security gate that stood over the thick vault doorway at the end of the hallway.

Phillip zipped off his vest and set it aside in a waiting alcove, giving Daring a querying look. “Don’t worry, the cache is in my bag back in our room,” Daring assured him as she placed her vest next to his.

One by one, the ponies all passed beneath the metal arch, which continued humming peacefully as it allowed them all through. Two of the Guards both entered a key into two different keyholes on opposite sides of the doorway. With a click, the massive door unlocked and slowly opened with a great groaning to reveal the Crystal Heart Chamber.

The entire room was filled with a gentle warmth that made one think of being curled up next to a fireplace with a mug of hot cocoa. A great window stretched across the circumference of the snow-white walls, allowing the viewers inside to see the entire city of Cuore and beyond, the setting sun bidding farewell as the night covered the sky in a starry black blanket. Four more Guards stood post around the circumference of the room; though they stood at attention, their faces displayed relaxed contentment. Runic carvings ran across the floor to form the shape of a snowflake. In the very center of the circular room. The visitors all paused and drew in quiet breaths, staring in awestruck silence at the world-famous gem.

The Crystal Heart hovered in between a blue stalagmite and stalactite, slowly revolving in place. The arctic blue stone was so smoothly carved that one almost swore that its shape was completely natural rather than the work of a pony. Moon and starlight from outside refracted through the stone, casting small glitters of rainbows along the floor, ceiling, and walls. A quiet humming like that of a tuning fork could be heard emanating from the stone, not a single note, but rising and falling in a rhythm as though the stone was quietly singing a wordless song. The music made Daring feel as though she was soaring through endless blue skies, all her worries far beneath her.

“It’s beautiful,” Flash breathed.

“So, how is this gonna help get my brand off?” Daring asked.

“Think of the Crystal like a lens for magic,” Cadance explained. “It protects the Empire and the lands beyond by absorbing the light and love of the Empire’s citizens and spreading across the entire land. I believe that it can focus our spell, invigorate it with love and hope, and use it to break the curse that keeps the brand on.”

“So...we’re relying on the power of love,” Daring deadpanned.

“Trust us, Daring,” Shining said with a smile. “Love really is one of the most powerful forces in the world.”

Twilight consulted her notes, studying a chart on one scroll. With a flicker of her horn, a replica of the map appeared on the floor, a network of interconnected circles, each with a different symbol embossed into the center. “Okay, Daring, stand right here. Phil, I need you to stand here, across from Daring. Flash and Spike, you two are going to stand on my right and left. And Cadance and Shining, over there.”

Everypony took their positions, standing inside the indicated circles. Daring was standing to the north of the Heart, with the others standing in a half-circle around it; Daring had the brief, uncomfortable impression that they were an audience watching her up on stage.

“I just want to tell you now, Daring,” Twilight said nervously. “This may not work the first time, but even if it doesn’t, we’ll be able to fix it. We’ll get this, I promise.”

Phillip, who was standing across the Heart from her, gave her a reassuring smile over the revolving artifact. Daring tried to smile back, but only managed a brief grimace. The light flicker of hope was now dancing in her chest, resisting her attempts to push it back down and spare it the pain.

Twilight, Cadance, and Shining Armor all lit up their horns and fired a spell into the Heart. The purple, blue, and pink beams blended together in the Heart, then, like a rainbow bursting from a prism, the interwoven lights shot out of it and struck Daring Do, the magic washing over her like she was suddenly submerged in a warm bath. Small flickers of golden lightning danced across her feathers; through the swirling lights, she saw Phillip staring at her, saw his mouth moving as he spoke encouragement that she could not hear over the rising music and rushing wind in her ears.

A shock of coldness raced up her right forelimb like she’d just dunked it in ice water and she hissed in a breath, raising it up to examine it. The brand stared back at her, but...was it the swirling light rushing past her, or was it fading?

Something moved in the corner of her eye. Daring looked up and gasped in shock. On the surface of the revolving Heart, she saw her own reflection staring back at her, eyes wide and mane in disarray.

No. It wasn’t her reflection.

But it was her. Her younger self, staring back at her, adorned in a black jacket with the hood drawn up to shade her face. Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared at her balefully, teeth gritted as she trembled. The apparition raised her bloodstained right hoof and thrust it at Daring accusingly. The black mark of the Family filled her gaze.

Thief. Murderer. Traitor. Always.

Pain raced across Daring’s entire body and she collapsed with a scream. The spell was broken instantly, the twisting lights vanishing and the song falling silent.

“Daring!” Phillip called, rushing over to her side and embracing her. She leaned against him, breathing slowly and deeply through gritted teeth; all her nerves were screaming as though she was on fire, and when she glanced down, her watery eyes confirmed what she already knew. The cursed brand remained.

“Are you okay?” Shining asked, rushing over to help Daring stand. The watching Guards also hurried over to check on her, faces creased in concern.

“Get off,” Daring snapped, shrugging off their aiding hooves.

“What happened?” Spike asked.

“I don’t know!” Twilight cried, hurriedly checking her notes. “I thought we’d accounted for the guilt burn, but…”

Cadance placed a hoof on Twilight’s back, cutting her off. “It’s okay, Twilight. We did our best and we can try again later,” she reassured her.

“Right,” Twilight nodded, taking a breath and scribbling down some notes. “I’m sorry, Daring, but don’t worry. We’ll...we’ll fix this, I promise!”

Daring just grunted as she strode towards the door, every muscle and nerve protesting her movements. “I need to be alone for a bit,” she mumbled, begrudgingly allowing Phillip to support her on the way out.

They left the Chamber and trotted back down the hallway, Phillip waving away the Guards who instinctively rose to try to help. Daring held herself together in silence, staring at the floor as Phillip retrieved their clothes from the alcove and called up the elevator. The door dinged open and Daring and Phillip both entered the elevator, which closed behind them and began to descend.

The pain continued to persist as a throbbing ache, refusing to fade. Struggling to keep her breathing steady, Daring lifted her hoof and stared at the brand that burned her, mocked her, reminded her of her sins every moment. The burning was now seeping down beneath her bones, tearing into her core.

“Fuck!” Daring screamed, lifting the marked hoof and struck the wall with it, again and again, as if hoping that the physical pain would distract her from the pain in her soul. Phillip gently wrapped his forelegs around her and hugged her to him. She sagged to the cold metal floor, sobbing dryly.

“It’s not fair,” she whimpered. “It’s not fair.”

“Where is he?”

Professor Crystal Fossil writhed on the floor and clutched the wound in his gut as he coughed up blood, staining his dark brown suit and the carpet of his study with tarry black fluid. “I don’t...I don’t know who you’re talking about!” he protested, staring up at the masked intruder.

The stallion thrust the assault rifle into the professor’s face, the silencer on the end mere inches from the sweat-coated fur; in the midst of the empty black iris, he could see the red glow of the energy crystal within. “He’s leading you to Tirek’s Mirror,” he snarled. “That traitor needs to burn for what he’s done. Where is he?!”

Professor Fossil winced as pain spread across his gut again, causing his muscles to convulse. “I...don’t know!” he cried. “He’s being kept at a safe house, that’s all I know! The Gendarmerie escorts him!”

The stallion scowled, his blue eyes blazing with hatred. “Where’s the temple?”

Beneath the waves of pain, a spark of defiance flashed through the gray-maned stallion’s gut. He glared up at his attacker, spitting through the taste of copper that filled his throat. “I won’t tell you,” he hissed. “You and your allies will never get Tirek’s Mirror.”

The cold blue eyes narrowed. “Tell your master Colonel Frostbite says hello,” he spat and pulled the trigger. A muted crack resounded through the study, the shelves with their volumes of historical tomes, photographs, and relics of the Empire’s past momentarily illuminated by a flash of red. The professor of archeology crumpled dead to the floor.

“Sergeant, keep watch,” the masked unicorn ordered as he moved to the desk and snapped on the desk lamp. He tugged the mask down to expose his mouth; damn beard itched.

“What’re you doing, sir?” the pegasus asked, hovering at the threshold of the study and watching in curiosity as his commanding officer started rummaging through the desk.

“There has to be something about where the temple is here,” Frostbite grumbled, pulling drawers open and rummaging through the papers within. He started stuffing the journals and pads of notes into a bag hanging from the stuffed chair. “We know he was close to finding it. There has to be something here.”

“Sir, we have one minute maximum before the gendarmerie,” the sergeant warned, staring down the hallway out the front door that hung open, splinters spread across the waxed wooden floor. A red light set in a box on the wall next to the door rapidly blinked on and off.

“We’ll be gone before then,” Frostbite assured his partner, shoving the last of the notes into the bag and tossing it over his shoulder. Recollecting his assault rifle, he hustled to the door, drawing a bottle from his pocket with his magic. As he hurried outside, he sprayed the faintly luminescent dark blue powder within behind him; the powder sank into the floor, its glow quickly fading.

“Hurry, sir!” the sergeant called from outside, standing in the open passenger door of the waiting car parked before the walkway, its engine grumbling quietly as if in impatience. Frostbite hurried after his partner, continuing to spray the powder behind him. As he bustled into the car and hit the gas, he heard the first wails of the responding gendarmes’ cruisers in the distance.

It took a great deal of willpower to not floor the pedal and peel down the street; instead, they drove away at a normal speed and turned the first corner, driving down the street and joining a busier roadway, hiding amidst the other travelers heading home after work. Frostbite glanced in the mirror and sighed in relief upon seeing no sign of pursuers.

“What next, sir?” his passenger asked. “We should try to find Blue Moon.”

“Later,” Frostbite grunted. “The Mirror is more important.”

Author's Note

Finally, we meet this universe's version of Shining Armor and Empress Cadance! To Flash's dismay, but at least Shining isn't doing the overprotective big brother bit (seriously, that's getting old).

I've always been building up to Daring getting her brand off. It was, in hindsight, kind of a poor idea when I first implemented it since it raised too many questions, but I've done my best to try to make it fit with this universe. It's tied into her past well, I think, but I'll be glad to finally get rid of that little plot point. It's time for her to move on...soon.

Fun fact, I briefly flirted with the idea that Shining would be an ascended alicorn in this universe--I've never really liked the implication that Cadance will outlive him. Thankfully, I changed my mind.

Oh, yeah. And there's a murder. We're going to have to do something about that.

Leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed!

Case Seventeen, Chapter Two: Ghosts of Our Past

“I might have to spend more time in museums,” Flash commented, trotting past a mannequin dressed as a soldier of the Crystal Army from the late 19th century, charging towards an unseen threat with bayonet fixed.

“For your own edification, or because you want to spend more time with me?” Twilight asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can’t I want both?” Flash grinned, causing Twilight to giggle and Spike to roll his eyes and stick a claw in his mouth.

Continuing their tour of the Crystal Empire History Museum, the trio entered another room, this one with a sign over the door that proclaimed its theme in English and Crystalline.

La Guerra dei Cristalli: the Crystal War.

“I still remember when Empress Amore was alive,” Twilight said soberly as the walked among exhibits that spoke about the lead-up to the war: the election of Sombra as Prime Minister, his gradual claiming of more and more power from the mysteriously ill alicorn, his building up the army under the excuse of fending off rogue frost dragons, and the military exercises at the Equestria-Crystal Empire border as a prelude to war.

“She actually came to the Royal Academy a few times as a guest lecturer," Twilight continued, looking up at a photograph of the smiling alicorn. "She was always so kind to everypony. As a foal, I could hardly believe that she was almost six hundred years old; I thought that she and Celestia and Luna had always been around and always would be.” She sighed quietly as she stared at a photograph of thousands of black-clad mourners gathered on the streets as the empress’s coffin was carried past in a carriage. “I couldn’t believe it when she died,” she whispered.

Flash paused before a display that held the front page of the Stella del Nord for the second of the Moon of Grain, 1940. Immortalized in black and white was a troop of Crystal soldiers hustling into vans, weapons in hoof and grim hatred etched into the faces. “Guerra!” declared the headline above. Flash turned and read the Equestrian text in the box beneath.

Following Empress Amore’s death on the twenty-first of the Moon of Sun, 1940, the autopsy revealed that she had been systematically poisoned for several weeks prior. Sombra framed a page in the Court as an Equestrian spy and announced that Princesses Celestia and Luna had had Amore murdered as a prelude to taking over the Crystal Empire and that they were holding Princess Cadenza hostage under the pretense that she was staying in Canterlot for additional study. Crowning himself Emperor in absence of leadership, he declared war upon Equestria during the night of the first of the Moon of Grain. Hundreds of troops began to move out for the border as soldiers already stationed there for "exercises" began to shell Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and Vanhoover.

“I was only 11 when the war started,” Flash mused out loud, trotting past another exhibit detailing how the North Griffon Empire and Yakyakistan, the Crystal Empire’s allies by treaty, had both entered the war. “I remember being so confused about what had happened, why we were suddenly fighting with our friends.”

He paused before a photograph of Princess Celestia meeting with Equestrian Army officers. Slowly, he raised a hoof to touch the glass and leaned his forehead against the window, his breath frosting on the glass as he closed his eyes. “Why my dad had to go,” he whispered.

Twilight pulled Flash close into a hug, tucking her head against his shoulder in comfort. He sniffled, pressing his face against her lavender-scented mane for a moment to hide from the world before recollecting himself. “Thanks,” he whispered to her, kissing her on the forehead.

“You’re welcome,” Twilight replied, guiding him away from the display and back towards Spike, who was studying a model of a Chiroptera fighter-bomber with its distinctive bat-like wings, the first of the jet engine-powered planes that made the Crystal Air Force feared across Equestria and beyond.

The trio passed through most of the rest of the exhibit in relative silence, passing through four years of warfare. They recalled the election of separatist members to the Parliament of Mareland, their declaration of secession from Equestria, and their war upon the Griffish Isles with the Crystal Empire’s support, which led to their neighbors Prance and Gerwhinny entering the war. They flinched at photographs of the North Griffonese Navy occupying the Horseshoe Bay, their aircraft carriers placed in range of major cities, including Ponyville and Canterlot. They studied Princess Cadenza’s negotiations with Dragon Lord Torch and watched jittery motion picture footage of Dragon Princess Ember leading the charge that liberated Manehattan. They followed Princess Luna's campaign against the North Griffonese Navy, eventually forcing them to retreat and ending the griffons’ and yaks’ involvement in the war. They lowered their heads in grief at the iconic image of the mushroom cloud over the remnants of Vanhoover. And finally, they thrilled at images of Princess Celestia and the ascended Princess Cadenza leading the charge into the Crystal Empire itself, their wings spread against the sky. As General Shining Armor fought the forces on the ground, the three alicorns breached the Palace and defeated Sombra, ending the mind-control spells he’d put over the empire’s citizens.

“I just want to know why,” Flash mused as they studied a photograph that marked the moment on the eleventh of the Moon of Frost, 1944 when Princess Celestia and Empress Cadenza signed the peace treaty that formally ended the Crystal War. “Why Sombra wanted to kill Amore and declare war on Equestria.”

“Who can say?” Twilight replied, briefly flinching as she glanced at a photograph of Queen Chrysalis, the tyrant of the changelings surreptitiously photographed in a meeting with King Sombra and Prince Rutherford of Yakyakistan. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s dead.”

“Are you sure?” Spike asked. “From what I remember, they never found his body.”

“Because he was disintegrated by three simultaneous beams from the three most powerful magic-wielders in the world,” Twilight said patiently. “I’m not surprised.”

The sound of rapid hoofsteps approaching made Flash look around, one hoof half-raising to his chest before he remembered that he’d left his holster and sidearm at home. His eyes caught the intruder: a young blue pegasus mare in a purple uniform that marked her as a page from the Palace. He relaxed as the mare hustled over to Twilight.

“Miss Sparkle, Detective Sentry, Mister Spike,” the page reported. “The Emperor and Empress have asked for your presence at the Palace urgently. Please come with me, I have a car waiting.”

“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked in alarm.

“I do not know, ma’am,” the page said. “All I know is that they need you back quickly.”

“Well, let’s go!” Twilight cried, hurrying after the page with Spike on her shoulders.

Flash sighed. “Mother, please. I’m on vacation,” he grumbled as he hurried after them.

Phillip leaned against the banister of the balcony outside their guest room, drawing on a cigarette as he looked over the magnificent city beneath him, watching the toy-sized ponies walking over the crystalline streets as they went about their morning. Somewhere in the distance, a clock struck out nine-thirty in the morning.

He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke swirling through the pure blue air for a moment before dissipating, then reached for a steaming cup sitting on a tray on the banister next to him, brought up by his request for some strong coffee and something brown for Daring. Next to the cup was a silver pot of coffee and a bottle of a pale-gold liquid called Frangelico, a hazelnut liqueur that the servant who brought it up had assured him was excellent when mixed with coffee.

As Phillip raised the cup to his lips and took a long sip, he mentally agreed with the servant’s suggestion. The sweet, nutty, almost candy-like taste contrasted wonderfully with the bitterness of the coffee, invigorating him to the core. It wasn’t Kanga-Rum, but he might have to ask for a bottle to take home.

A golden dot appeared in the sky behind a cloud. Phillip doused the cigarette and started pouring a second cup of coffee as Daring flapped down and landed next to him.

“You know you can see Yakyakistan from high enough?” Daring said, watching as Phillip stirred a shot of Frangelico into the coffee.

“Well, you’re not bloody taking me up there,” Phillip commented, passing her the cup. She took a long sip of the drink and made an appreciative noise, licking her lips.

“Damn, we should sleep in more often if it comes with this,” she grinned.

“You all right?” Phillip asked.

Daring’s face fell and she placed the cup down on the tray. “Yeah, I’m--” She paused when she saw Phillip’s raised eyebrow and let out an annoyed sigh. “You already know I’m not,” she grumbled.

“You slept late, barely touched breakfast, and went for a long fly by yourself,” Phillip listed off. “You’re upset because the spell didn’t work.”

Daring stared down at her reflection in the silver tray. Before her eyes, the apparition blurred and turned into her younger self once more, her face shaded by her mane and blood spattered across her face, scowling balefully back at her.

“I killed ponies,” Daring mumbled, rubbing her foreleg as the venomous pain started slithering up her limb. “Am I supposed to be able to forgive myself for that?”

Phillip wrapped his forelegs around her barrel and pulled her tight to him. “Mojo and the others coerced you into that,” he said, nuzzling her ears. “They beat you and threatened you when you tried to say no. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I could’ve tried harder, done something sooner…” Daring mumbled, swallowing back tears.

"Shhh." Phillip kissed the back of her head. “You are not that mare anymore,” he assured her. “You’ve done so much to save lives and protect Ponyville. Your younger self would be proud of you.”

“I just wish I could make it so that it never happened,” Daring whispered. “But I know I can’t.”

They stayed silent for a few moments longer, Phillip continuing to hold her close. Finally, their moment was interrupted by a rapping at the door.

“Detectives?” a page asked upon entering. “The Empress and Emperor have requested your presence urgently.”

“Aces, we’re coming,” Phillip said, releasing Daring and grabbing his trilby from the bed. Daring started to follow him, then abruptly turned around and headed back, snatching up the bottle of Frangelico and chugging down a few gulps of the liqueur.

“Okay, ready now,” she declared, setting the bottle down and dashing after Phillip, who shook his head as the page led them down the hall.

They met up with Twilight, Flash, and Spike on a lower floor and were guided to a door labeled “Riservato.” The page knocked at the door. After a moment, there was a click as it unlocked and he opened it. “Your Highnesses, your guests,” he declared, giving a bow and gesturing for the others to enter.

The room proved to be a windowless study, the walls lined with bookshelves with locked glass doors. A map of the Crystal Empire took up almost the entirety of one wall. Cadence and Shining Armor were sitting on the opposite sides of two large, ornately carved desks, their faces grim as they studied the litany of reports covering the surfaces of the tables.

“Thank you, Timepiece,” the Empress said, waving the servant away without looking up. The page closed the door behind them; no sooner had it latched than Cadance secured the lock behind him with a click.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked, her worry increasing at her siblings’ furrowed brows and deep frowns.

“Come closer,” Cadance instructed them.

The five clustered around the desks. Shining Armor lit up his horn and a purple bubble of magic encased them.

“A Silence Spell?” Twilight asked, her fright increasing along with her confusion. “Shining, what’s going on?”

“The room’s already warded against eavesdroppers, but we need to make sure that this is kept secret,” Shining said. He turned over a photograph and held it out to his guests. The stallion in the picture was a green-white crystal stallion with a bushy gray mane and the cutie mark of a fossilized skull encased in a stone.

“This is Professor Crystal Fossil, professor of archeology at Cuore University,” he explained. “He was murdered this morning by an intruder.”

The five ponies remained silent, taking in the dead stallion smiling up at them.

“Professor Fossil was involved in a project to find any hidden temples dedicated to the Old Gods in the Empire,” Cadance continued. “He reported directly to us.”

“Hidden temples?” Daring asked.

“There are a few in the Empire that we know of, yes,” Cadance nodded. “The worship of the Old Gods predates the founding of the Empire, and continued even during mother’s time, hidden away in secret.”

“Guessing that there’s more to this than history books if he reported to you,” Phillip grunted.

“Some of those temples contained artifacts and emblems with powerful dark magic,” Shining reported. “Sombra used them during the Crystal War: he even constructed a few secret temples and items himself. After the war, most of them were destroyed or hidden, but there’s still a lot out there.”

“And if Professor Fossil was killed for his work finding them, then that means that somepony else might be after them,” Cadance added.

“What specifically was he working on now?” Flash asked.

“He was cooperating with a former member of Sombra’s research staff, Blue Moon,” Cadance said, turning a file on her desk around to show them. The file inside was a personnel report with an attached photograph of a midnight blue unicorn stallion with wispy, silvery hair and a haunted look in his pale gray eyes, the color of which matched the crescent moon on his flanks. Marks of anomalous color on his coat showed where a number of tattoos had been hastily removed.

“Moon was a member of a research group developing and experimenting with dark magical artifacts. Towards the end of the war, they buried most of the temples and the artifacts inside so that if Sombra or his followers returned, they'd be ready and waiting for them,” Cadance explained. “He got a lighter prison sentence in exchange for becoming an informant and was released on parole earlier this year so that he could help find the temples and destroy any artifacts inside.”

“Recently, Moon and Professor Fossil told us that they were getting close to a temple that they think contains a very dangerous weapon that Sombra himself designed,” Shining said, taking out another picture. “It’s called Tirek’s Mirror.”

One was a closeup on a single blue pony with a wild red mane wearing the uniform of a Crystal Army officer, a single silver star and crown on his shoulders marking him as a Brigadier General. His face was covered in scars, many of them fresh, his azure eyes blazed with maniacal glee, and his mouth was drawn back in a grin that seemed too wide for his face. After a moment, the observers noted with disgust that the stallion had no lips, torn flesh surrounding his bloodied gums to indicate where they’d been sliced off. In one hoof, he held up a strange device that seemed to be composed of a set of mirrors set upon a tree-like sculpture of bones, all of them with strange runes carved into them, the glass glowing in an array of colors that hurt to look at.

“Wow, that guy is really bad at shaving,” Spike commented.

“That is General Still Lake,” Shining commented. “One of Sombra’s most loyal generals and a Tirek cultist. Those scars are self-mutilation as part of worship.”

“He was the one who perfected Tirek’s Mirror and used it against us in the war,” Cadance added.

“What does the Mirror do?” Daring asked.

Shining responded by taking out another photograph and showing it to them. All five studied it for a moment, then drew back with soft sounds of shock.

The picture was a wider view of the picture of General Lake wielding the relic. He stood on a small rise over a crowd of ponies: some of them civilians, some of them wearing the tan and gray uniforms of the Equestrian Army. All of them were mauling each other, the rage in their faces terrifyingly palpable as they shot, stabbed, struck, and strangled one another without mercy; Twilight felt her stomach twist at the sight of a crystal pony filly no older than five tearing at the throat of a soldier. Their eyes were glowing the same anomalous colors that were emanating from the Mirror.

“The Mirror causes uncontrollable rage in all creatures around it when activated,” Shining explained soberly, putting the picture away. “Anyone affected will attack the first thing they see, friend or foe. That Mirror nearly destroyed entire regiments before we found a way to counter it.”

“What happened to it?” Daring asked.

“The last time the Mirror was seen in action was during the Moon of the Harvest 1944, a month before the invasion of Cuore; according to Blue Moon, they hid it in a temple to the north of the city that they called the Bone Temple,” Shining said. “General Lake himself was killed by Princess Ember during the invasion.”

Phillip remained silent for a few moments as they absorbed this information. “Who else knows what Fossil was looking for?” he asked.

“There were only a few ponies on his archeological team,” Shining said, giving him a list of names. “Them and Blue Moon.”

“Unfortunately, the cat might be out of the bag,” Cadance said, retrieving a newspaper from a desk drawer and placing it on the table. “Two days ago, a reporter hanging around outside the palace saw Blue Moon coming out with Professor Fossil and recognized him.”

The front page of the paper was a photograph taken outside the Crystal Palace. Blue Moon, his eyes wide with shock, was trying to hide behind Professor Crystal Fossil, who was glaring at the photographer with disapproval. A gendarme in a blue uniform was rushing towards the photographer, one hoof raised to shoo him away.

“‘Former Cultist Working With Empress?’” Daring translated the headline out loud. “‘Blue Moon...seen exiting with Professor Fossil of archeology...known to have worked with Sombra’s temples...rumors of excavation north of Cuore…’ Yeah, if somepony saw that, they could easily put the dots together.”

“Where’s Moon now?” Phillip asked.

“He’s being held in a secret safehouse by the gendarmerie,” Cadance said.

“And where’s the temple with the Mirror?” Daring asked.

“Professor Fossil had an excavation site here,” Shining said, using his magic to draw a circle around an uninhabited region of snowy wastes about twenty miles north of the city. “He and Blue Moon weren’t completely sure where the temple was--Blue Moon didn’t remember specifically--but they’d narrowed it down to that area.”

“We want you to look into Professor Fossil’s murder and find who was responsible,” Cadance said, scribbling out a letter and stamping it with a wax seal. “If there’s somepony trying to find the Mirror or any other artifacts, they have to be stopped.” She handed the letter over to Phillip. “This official letter instructs the gendarmerie to assist you.”

“Where’s Professor Fossil’s home?” Phillip asked.

“He lived at 39 Striga Lane,” Shining said. “Keep us posted.”

“We won’t let you down, sir,” Flash nodded grimly as they passed through the dissipating magical bubble and exited the study.

“I hope so,” Shining mumbled, exchanging a grim look with his wife as his friends exited.

“Sir, don’t you think we should be focusing our efforts on finding Blue Moon?” the sergeant asked, pacing the den.

“Patience, sergeant,” Frostbite replied, turning the page in Professor Fossil’s stolen journal. “He’s not going anywhere. The immediate priority is the Mirror.”

“We know where the dig site is, sir,” the pegasus replied. “We can just go there.”

“That’s still a few square miles to search,” Frostbite replied evenly, tossing aside some ungraded papers. “And there will be ponies guarding it, looking for us. We have to narrow it down somehow.”

The pegasus huffed in irritation, puffing some of his blonde mane out of his face, and resumed pacing as his commanding officer continued perusing the stolen notes. Abruptly, he paused, staring at a side table.

“Sir?”

“Mmm,” Frostbite grumbled, glaring at some notes. “He makes several references to a journal, but there’s no journal here…”

“Sir!” the sergeant persisted.

“What?” Frostbite grunted.

“Look,” the pegasus said, pointing at the page from last night’s newspaper laying open on the table.

Frostbite stood and trotted over to the table, knocking aside an empty orange plastic bottle to read what his cohort was pointing at. He beheld a small photograph taken of Cuore airport, showing a group of ponies being led to a terminal by a mare in the purple uniform of a royal servant. His eyes went to two of the ponies in the picture: a stallion in a green vest and gray trilby and a mare in a green pith helmet.

A soft gasp escaped Frostbite. “Phillip Finder and Daring Do,” he breathed quietly, his heart palpitating nervously in his chest.

“The article says that they were with somepony named Twilight Sparkle, Empress Cadenza’s sister-in-law,” the pegasus noted. “No doubt that they’ll be involved in this now.”

“Which means that they’ll be looking for the Mirror,” Frostbite finished the thought.

“Sir, what should we do about this?” the sergeant asked nervously.

Frostbite remained silent for several seconds, then grunted. “If they’re working on this, then Lake or whoever in the Palace might be counting on them to find the Mirror,” he said. “Which means that they’ll also be looking for his journal.”

Author's Note

Finally got around to revealing more details of the Crystal War! I'm sorry for the big info dump, but I hope that was enough to give you some of the broader strokes of the four years.

But more importantly, we're finally getting introduced to the real mystery of this case. Temples and dangerous artifacts, just Daring and Phil's specialty! If you liked what you read, please leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Seventeen, Chapter Four: Halls of Knowledge

Cuore University sprawled across several acres of well-tended land. At the very center of the campus was a massive, intricately carved fountain crowned by an owl, the base formed by a variety of creatures standing together atop a great stack of books. A row of flagpoles stood behind the fountain, each one carrying the flag of one of the Empire’s cities or regions, and the tallest bearing the flag of the Crystal Empire, the variety of colors flapping in the breeze as the trio approached from the air. Surprised students moved aside as they landed before the two-foot-high stone wall carved with Università del Cuore in agate.

“Ha! I win!” Flash declared, panting.

“Sod off, Sentry, I was ahead of you!” Daring replied as Phillip staggered away.

“Your own fault for carrying him,” Flash smirked.

“Phil, tell him I won,” Daring said to Phil.

“You’re both drongos,” Phillip grumbled, prompting both pegasi to stick their tongues out at him. “Can we get back to work?”

“Fine, fine,” Daring said, turning to a bewildered student. “Sai dov'è l'ufficio del Professor Fossil?” she asked.

The young mare blinked slowly, then pointed to a five-story brick building to the west and gave a few instructions. “Grazie,” Daring said, turning and leading the others away. “Professor Fossil’s office is on the fourth floor of that building there.

The sign outside the stairs declared that this building was the Scienze Fisiche, or Physical Sciences building. The trio proceeded inside, trotting past classrooms and laboratories and lecture halls as they proceeded up to the fourth floor.

A large door to the left of the wide hallway declared Ufficio. They opened up the door to find themselves in a small lobby with a receptionist behind a desk and some chairs that nervous students were waiting in, looking over textbooks and half-finished research papers.

“Posso aiutarla?” the curly red-maned receptionist asked, blinking at the unfamiliar ponies.

Flash pulled out his badge. “Professor Fossil’s office?” he asked.

Her eyes bulging, the receptionist pointed down the hall. “Fourth on left,” she declared.

“Grazie,” Flash nodded as they proceeded past, the eyes of every pony there tracking them.

Daring tried the door to Professor Fossil’s office and found it locked. “Let’s just hope that the other guys didn’t get here first,” she commented to the stallions, pulling out her lockpick set from the hidden pocket in her money bag.

“Priority is Blue Moon’s journal,” Phillip said. “Let’s try to make this quick.”

There was a click as Daring defeated the lock and the door opened wide. “Let’s get to work, boys,” Daring said, inviting them in.

Professor Fossil’s office was a wide room with the shelves lined with books and fossil samples in reinforced glass cases. The desk in the back was covered in papers and notes, and the cabinet was overflowing with syllabi, course paperwork, and worksheets.

“I’ve got the cabinet,” Phillip said, opening the bottom drawer and pawing through the paperwork. Flash headed for the desk while Daring started searching through the shelves, tugging aside books in search of anything.

The minutes ticked away in silence as they worked, pushing aside irrelevant documents in search of clues. “Anything?” Flash asked, tossing aside a folder of students’ term papers.

“No,” Phillip shook his head, ticking through the folders in the last cabinet folder.

Daring sighed as she looked through the planners at the bottom drawer of the desk, flipping through the last one only to find that it held dates from two years ago. “Does this guy throw anything out?” she groused to herself, contemptuously tossing the notebook back into the drawer.

But as she started to close the drawer a thought occurred to her. She pulled out the upper drawer and grabbed a pencil from the desk to confirm her hypothesis. She measured the depth of the upper drawer with a pencil, finding it to be about three inches deep.

Then she tested the bottom drawer and smiled when she noticed that it was a full inch more shallow. Daring jiggled the drawer and heard something rattling around inside beneath the planners.

“There’s something here,” she declared to her companions, pulling the drawer all the way out and placing it on the table, tossing aside the planners. After some prying, she managed to pry aside the false bottom of plywood.

Inside was a manila folder and a black journal with a lock. Daring snatched up the journal and began to work on the lock while Phillip and Flash spilled out the contents of the folder. Inside were maps of the frozen wastes north of the city, sketches of maps, and drawings of strange mechanisms.

Flash picked up one drawing that was littered with notes, all of them drawn in careful lines. The sketch showed a tree-like sculpture composed of bones and skulls, with several mirrors affixed to it.

“Tirek’s Mirror,” Flash noted, studying the sketch and comparing the notes against his rudimentary knowledge of Crystalline. “Maybe these are notes on how to destroy it or something. What’s this?” He picked up another sheet with a twenty-six by twenty-six grid on it, with the alphabet written along the top of each column and to the left of each row. The alphabet was written out in each row, starting with the corresponding letter.

“Oh, I’m gonna need that for the cipher,” Daring said, continuing to work at the journal’s lock.

“This looks like a map,” Phillip said, picking up another sketch. It did indeed show a map, with a compass rose in the top corner. A corridor led into a large area marked “Camera del scheletro,” with more halls branching off from it, some of them leading to dead ends or doubling back. One room to the south was marked with a circle and the label “Specchio.”

“Specchio...mirror. That room there must be the mirror room,” Phillip said, pointing to the circled room.

Setting aside the map, he picked up a set of photographs that seemed to be of a valley with several carven crystal statues placed around them, featuring a variety of ponies in a number of different poses, with epithets and names carved into the bases. If the place had once been a memorial garden, it clearly had been abandoned for years when the photographs were taken, with weeds overtaking the statues and the paths covered in snow. There were also more recent photographs that appeared to be of the same area, but the statues were now in ruins, with only crumbled fragments like puzzle pieces lying around small bases that held only a few hooves and scratched-up memorial plaques.

“Blue Moon mentioned statues, right?” Phillip asked.

“Yeah,” Flash nodded, looking over the pictures. “That might be where the temple is.”

His eye fell on another sketch, and he shuddered in revulsion as he studied it. The beast on it had the black trunk and four legs of a pony, but much larger. Where the head would’ve been instead was a minotaur-like torso, the flesh blood red. The horned head had four faces, all with long white beards, all of them displaying an expression of burning rage and wild bloodlust. Four arms extended from the torso, each of them raised and carrying a bloody weapon: a sword, an ax, a flail, and a javelin. Tirek, the god of war and death, glared up at him.

“Ugh,” Flash shivered as he turned over the drawing facedown.

“Stupid lock, will you…” Daring snarled, fumbling with her picks. “Ha! Got it!” she declared a moment later as the lock clicked, allowing her to open the journal.

The interior was scrawled with seemingly random jumbles of letters, all of them written in the same careful, precise style as the notes on the other sheets. “This is definitely Blue Moon’s journal,” Daring nodded. “Flash, what page was the one that Fossil wrote down?”

“Uh…” Flash quickly checked his notebook. “Page 58.”

Daring quickly flipped to the right page, revealing the lines of enciphered letters. “Okay, this is how a Vigenere cipher works,” Daring said, taking the sheet with the rows of alphabets and another clean sheet of paper, which she began to scrawl a note on. “The cipher uses a keyword for encryption: in this case, probably ‘Tirek.’ When you’re encoding a message, you write out the message with the keyword under it, like this.”

FALL BACK
TIRE KTIR

“Then you encrypt it by finding the row that matches the message and the column that matches the keyword, and use the matching letter,” Daring continued. “For example, row F and column T gives us ‘Y.’ Encrypt the rest of the message and we get this.”

Yicp lktb.

“To decrypt it, you do kind of the opposite,” Daring continued to Flash. “You take the row that matches the keyword, find the encrypted letter on it, and match it with the column letter to give you the decryption. For example, if we go to row T, we find that Y is in the ‘F’ column. In row I, the letter I is in the A column, and so on. You see?”

“I think so,” Flash nodded as Phillip started writing down a translation, frowning in concentration. “So unless you know the keyword, it’s impossible to crack?”

“Well, no, but it is really hard to do so,” Daring said. “The cipher was thought to be impossible to crack for centuries.” She glanced at Phillip’s work so far. “‘Tempio osseo si trova…’ Yup, seems to be working. Flash, keep checking the other stuff while we work on this.”

Flash studied the rest of the folder’s contents, taking note of an itinerary, a list of artifacts, sketches by the late professor, and a few photographs of work sites, featuring a variety of ponies digging through the snow and searching pits interlaced with grids of string. Daring and Phillip worked together to decrypt the journal entry, with Daring translating the Crystalline as they went.

After several minutes, Daring pulled away from the sheet. “Got it!” she announced, showing their work to Flash.

The Bone Temple is located in the Valley of Statues, accessed through a doorway in the ground. The doorway is within sight of the bringer of light and behind the intemperate one. Draw blood with a silver blade and drip it onto the lock while declaring, “Img-yaah, ghu-eog vet an’gyaari.” Key is in west corridor in false idol’s mouth. Touch faces counterclockwise after inserting key, starting from 6.

“What do you think any of that means?” Flash asked.

“We’ll figure it out,” Daring shrugged. “Bet Twilight might be able to help us out once we get to the Valley.”

“What, we’re going now?!” Flash cried.

“What’d you think?” Daring replied, already heading for the door. “C’mon, let’s get moving. Back to the precinct.”

Flash groaned. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he sighed, picking up the translation and following the others out. “You know, when I signed up to be a cop, going into dangerous underground temples dedicated to the Old Gods in search of weapons of mass destruction wasn’t part of the job description.”

“That’s why you have an experienced treasure hunter,” Daring smirked as they proceeded down the hallway.

“So tell me,” Flash said, glancing at the note as they headed down the stairs. “Does finding ancient temples always involve weird riddles and traps?”

“Sometimes,” Daring shrugged. “Most of it is really just backtracking purchases and digging through history books to figure out where it was last seen and then picking up the trail there. More than once, I’ve found whatever treasure I was hired to find in a pawnshop because some schmuck sold it off for a tenth of what it was worth…”

Phillip tuned Daring out as they rounded the last landing and headed down the last flight of stairs to the ground floor of the building. There were only a few ponies on the floor, some students talking to each other on the way to class, a young mare speaking to whom he discerned was a teacher’s assistant, a white-bearded janitor sweeping the floors next to the stairs. Shfft, shfft, went the broom against the tiled floor.

Phillip froze on the bottom step, something prickling at the back of his head. Daring and Flash, who had been discussing a passage in the translation, nearly bumped into him as they stopped suddenly. Their cries of surprise caused most of the other ponies’ heads to turn towards them, save for the janitor, who continued to sweep the floor at a steady rhythm: shfft, shfft.

“What’s wrong?” Daring asked.

Phillip sniffed the air, closing his eyes to focus on the bitter, oily scent itching at the back of the nostrils. What was that? Why was it familiar…?

Shfft, shfft. The janitor continued his work, his head down as he concentrated.

Lumber Bear brand chewing tobacco.

Phillip whipped his head around to face the green unicorn stallion sweeping the floors next to him. He was about four feet tall, wearing a loose, rumpled green jacket that didn’t quite cover her cutie mark of a snowflake...which glimmered unnaturally in the light, declaring its artificiality from up close. His well-trimmed beard was a snowy white color, stained light brown around the lips. His blue eyes, magnified behind the thick glasses seemed to be focused on his work, but the corner of his eye was fixed upon the trio on the stairs.

A single bead of sweat appeared on the back of the false janitor’s neck. Shfft.

A heartbeat later, the janitor thrust the broom handle at Daring like a spear, the end ramming into her throat; the mare staggered back, a startled choke turning into a coughing fit. Dropping his improvised weapon, the janitor fled down the hall, his horn lighting up with a blue aura.

That same aura ensnared the translation in Flash’s hoof and tugged it out of his grasp. “Hey!” Flash shouted, vaulting the railing and taking flight.

Still coughing and leaning against the wall as she fought for breath, Daring angrily waved Phillip away. “I’m fine!” she rasped, massaging her throat. “Get him!”

Growling, Phillip vaulted the railing as well and chased after his foe, his hooves pounding against the floor.

Carrying the translation in his mouth, the bearded unicorn pounded down the hallway, startled students and faculty diving out of his way and staring in disbelief.

“Stop! Fermare!” Flash ordered, pushing his wings harder. He gritted his teeth as he closed the distance, hooves stretching out to seize the short tail…

The unicorn turned and glared over his shoulder and his horn lit up again. A blast of icy wind rammed into Flash like a cannon blast, frost assailing his body like thousands of needles. Flash cried out as he tumbled back, somersaulting through the air. Phillip leaped aside just in time to avoid the stallion, grunting as he fought the magical gale. Papers and hats flew past him, drawing cries of alarm and dismay from the other ponies.

The unicorn reached the back door and barged through it shoulder-first, slamming it behind him as the cold wind died away. Phillip sprinted the last few feet and shoved through the door.

For a split-second, he caught sight of his target sprinting across trimmed grass lawns, heading for the parking lot mere yards away. Then his brain registered the metallic clattering on the ground in front of him. He looked down just in time to register the small black cylinder perforated with holes on the step before him.

It was too late for him to cover his eyes. The flare burned into his retinas, washing his vision in white; the pressure wave struck him like an anvil and his ears felt like they’d burst, all sound crushed by a wave of tinnitus. The hard touch of the concrete told him that he was lying on his back on the ground, clutching his ears.

Flash and Daring both burst through the door to see Phil on the ground, eyes closed and a grimace of agony on his face; a few other ponies were staggering away, clutching their faces and ears and crying out in pain.

The screeching of tires made them look up just in time to see a blue two-door car with tinted windows screeching out of the parking lot and disappearing into the sea of cars rushing through the highway.

“I got him!” Daring shouted, taking to the sky and streaking after him like a missile.

Flash bent over Phillip. “Phil? Can you hear me?” he called.

“Gimme a minute,” Phillip said, shaking his head as he slowly rolled over onto his hooves, breathing slow and deep as he recovered. “Help the others. Get police here.”

“Right,” Flash nodded, heading for a nearby stallion who was holding his eyes and moaning in pain. In the distance, he heard the wailing of sirens as police and ambulances raced towards them.

The blue two-door Alfalfa Poneo screeched around the corner, nearly rising up on two wheels as the driver fought for control. Daring flew over a city block to keep after her target, growling to herself as she watched civilians swerve out of the way of the maniac.

The maniac blazed through a stop sign, leaving a chorus of screeching tires and blaring horns in his wake, then ran up onto the sidewalk to cut around another intersection, heading left: a turn that brought it within reach of Daring.

“Gotcha!” Daring shouted in triumph, diving down like an eagle towards a mouse. She seized the passenger door handle, hanging on tight as the vehicle raced down the streets, pulling her along with it.

The window smashed outward, glass shards clawing at her face and drawing blood, and Daring flung her head back just in time to avoid the streaks of red light that roared past her face, so close that she felt the heat of the castfire striking her in the face.

The car jerked violently to the right and Daring was tossed like a lifeboat in a storm, flailing as she desperately tried to hang on. “Why is it never easy?” she snarled, the door handle nearly sliding out of her sweat-coated hoof.

A blaring horn made her look up and she gasped as she spotted the headlights of the oncoming truck. The truck that her target was swerving towards.

“Shit!” Daring screamed, releasing the handle and rocketing up into the air. She caught a glimpse of the truck driver’s open-mouthed gape of panic behind the windshield as she passed it, dodging multi-ton death by inches. Panting, Daring whipped her head back and forth and spotted the car heading down a side road that ran alongside the green waters of the Tiberein.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Daring snarled, darting back after her target.

But before she had a chance to close the distance, the two-door swerved onto a bridge over a river, then jumped over the railing. For a moment, the vehicle with its smashed passenger window hung in midair, the driver’s side door opening. Then, with a great crash and a plume of water, it landed in the water and quickly began to sink.

“Motherfucker!” Daring cried in a mixture of surprise and frustration and dove down. Gulping in a breath, she breached the surface of the dark green water. A shock of cold ran through her body as the water enveloped her like an embrace, all sound turning into a deep churning.

The car was sinking ahead of her, a dark shape against the murky shadows, groaning as if in death. The driver’s and passenger’s doors were both open. Daring swam forward, pushing herself with her legs and her wings, and peered inside the car.

Empty. Daring looked around but could see no sign of the driver, just dark against dark. Letting out a muffled grunt of anger, Daring swam for the surface.

She breached the surface and gulped down some air, head twisting back and forth like the periscope of a submarine. There were a few boats bobbing on the river, but no sign of any bearded ponies swimming away. “Shit,” Daring cursed, slapping the water and heading for shore.

Bastard has Flash’s translation and now he’s after the temple, she cursed as she swam. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shouldn’t have flashed it around like that when you knew that others were looking for it!

Daring sighed as she climbed up onto the shore, shaking herself off and flinging water over a small crowd of startled onlookers. At least we still have the journal. We’ll just be slightly behind them. Spreading her wings, she took off and headed back for the university. Sure hope the others are having better luck than I am.

“Do you cause this much mayhem back in Ponyville?” Captain Orrizonte scowled at the trio as they stood in the parking lot of Cuore University. The spinning lights of the ambulance parked nearby illuminated the marshal captain’s face in angry tones of red and blue, accentuating the lines of his severe scowl.

“Actually, this is a good day for us,” Daring shrugged. “Ow!” she added a moment later when both Phillip and Flash elbowed her.

Captain Orrizonte looked over at the ambulance, studying the injured ponies whose burns were being tended to by paramedics. Around them, gendarmes questioned witnesses and patrolled the area, holding back the crowds of stunned onlookers. “You should have told us about what you were doing here,” he groused at them. “If a gendarme had been here, this could’ve been avoided and our culprit might be in custody at this moment. Instead, ponies could have died and now we must search the length of the river for him!”

“We already know where he’s going, captain,” Daring protested. “The Bone Tem--”

“We are already bringing in Professor Fossil’s colleagues for questioning,” Captain Orrizonte interrupted her. “We are already taking every precaution. Our priority is stopping a madpony, ‘detective.’ Not hunting for relics left behind by a tyrant that are better off left alone. And speaking of which…”

He extended a hoof. “That journal is evidence. Give it here, please.”

Flash took a step back, raising one hoof towards his jacket, beneath which was Blue Moon’s journal. “Give it to me,” Orrizonte glared. “You are making a mistake by crossing me, boy.”

Phillip, his face bandaged and coated with pale orange salve, put a hoof on Flash’s shoulder with a warning glance. Flash hesitated for a moment, then took the book out of his jacket with a scowl. Orrizonte reached out to take the book, but Flash refused to let go.

“All due respect, Captain,” he declared, glaring. “It’s Detective Sentry.” He released the journal with a grunt.

“Not in my country, boy,” Orrizonte scowled. “And if you three continue interfering--”

His speech trailed off when he spotted a limousine with two small purple flags attached to the hood pulling into the lot and parking in front of them. The back door opened and a Crystal Guard in an impeccable suit and tie stepped out, scanning the area with eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses before nodding and stepping aside.

A moment later, Emperor Shining Armor emerged, adorned in a bulletproof vest with purple wards woven into the fabric. A saber with a golden handle and a pistol were strapped tight to his sides. His prosthetic leg caught the late morning sun as he exited the car.

Captain Orrizonte and the other gendarmes all immediately snapped to attention and saluted as the onlookers dropped to their knees. Shining raised a hoof to acknowledge their salutes as Twilight and Spike stepped out of the car, followed by another Guard. The Emperor proceeded to speak to the injured ponies as Twilight and Spike hurried over to the detectives.

“What happened?” Twilight asked.

“Wanker was here,” Phillip said. “He got the translation from us and bolted.”

“You guys all right?” she asked, studying Phillip’s face, wincing at the salve-treated burns.

“We’re fine, Twily,” Flash reassured her.

Shining trotted over to the group. “Is there a problem, Captain?” he asked Orrizonte.

“All due respect, Your Highness,” Captain Orrizonte replied with a scowl. “I have to question your judgment when you entrust confidential information to a group of outsiders with a reputation for bending the law and causing trouble.”

“Hey!” Twilight shouted. Daring growled at the captain, raising her hoof as the mark began to burn once more. Her heart began to speed up in response to the guilt and anger, stirring the hot red liquid in her gut.

“Captain, all due respect,” Shining said placidly. “I trust these ponies because of their proven history with difficult, sensitive cases. Including cases that involve dangerous magic.”

Orrizonte scowled. “Four civilians and a rookie detective,” he protested. “Hardly the type that I would call in for a dangerous mission.”

“My decisions are my own, Captain,” Shining said coolly. “If you wish, we can discuss this further later. But for the moment, I need to talk to them.”

Orrizonte scowled but grunted. “As you wish,” he grumbled, turning and walking away to confer with another gendarme.

“Sorry about him,” Shining said. “He’s an excellent officer, just a bit too single-minded.” He bent down closer. “Twilight told me about the pony you’re after,” he said. “A tall unicorn with a white beard, possibly ex-special forces, chews Lumber Bear dip?”

“Blue eyes, drives a two-door Alfalfa Poneo, license T-H-3-4-9-1,” Daring recited, trying to take her mind off of the burning.

Shining sighed. “I hoped it wouldn’t be him,” he said, pulling a photograph out from beneath his jacket.

The black and white picture displayed a group of ponies in Equestrian army uniforms kneeling in formation, all of them smiling at the camera. Shining Armor was standing in the middle of the back row, his uniform sleeves adorned with golden clover leaves and his hind leg still made of flesh instead of crystal.

“This picture was taken in early 1943,” Shining Armor said. “Because of my knowledge of magic, I was enlisted for a task force dedicated to locating and destroying Sombra’s magical artifacts.” He pointed to a green crystal unicorn standing to his left in the photo. The middle-aged stallion wore his white mane cropped close and he wore a Crystal Army uniform rather than Equestrian, with three gold stars and a crown on his sleeves. His cutie mark was an arrow piercing a snowflake.

“Think that’s him,” Phillip nodded.

“That’s Colonel Frostbite,” Shining said. “A defector from the Crystal Army. He and his aide-de-camp, Sergeant Skyline, headed up the task force.” He indicated a blue pegasus with a blonde mane, a toothy grin, and the cutie mark of the sun behind a city skyline standing next to Frostbite. “After the war, he decided to stay in Cuore. I’ve been to his house a few times: that car he used is definitely his, I know the license plate.” He sighed and shook his head. “The war left him with pretty severe PTSD, especially after Persano.”

“What happened at Persano?” Flash asked.

“It was late in the war, summer of ‘44. We were ambushed on the way back from a mission,” Shining explained, flexing his prosthetic hind leg. “I lost this, and half of the squad didn’t make it back home. Frostbite took it the worst; he had to be dismissed as mentally unfit for duty. And as the ranking officer, I was put in charge.” He shook his head sadly.

“Marshal Facet is already heading to his home to check on him,” Twilight reported.

“And they’re already searching the river for him,” Flash said. “If we’re lucky, they’ll find him.”

“They won’t,” Shining said. “Frostbite and Skyline were both geniuses at throwing pursuers off the track; can’t count the number of times they outran Sombra’s secret police even when they should’ve been completely cornered.” He shook his head. “Matter of fact, driving into the Tiberein like that is completely in-character for him.”

“Sounds like you might’ve been friends,” Spike commented to Daring.

“Yeah, if he hadn’t gone loopy,” Daring said. “No offense,” she added quickly in response to Shining’s glare.

“You still got the journal?” Twilight asked.

“Yeah,” Flash said, handing it to her. “We can still translate the passage.”

“That should be our next stop,” Daring said determinedly. “Frostbite will be heading there next.”

“You’re not saying we go now, right?” Flash said reluctantly.

“No, too dangerous,” Daring said.

“Did you just say ‘too dangerous?’” Phillip asked with a small smirk.

Daring gave him a Flying Feather through a smile. “First we need to do some research about the area and ask Blue Moon some more questions,” she said.

“And get some lunch,” Spike said, his sentence punctuated by the loud growling of his stomach.

“Research?” Twilight asked, her eyes lighting up. “The Cuore Library and Historical Society is just a few blocks from here, and there’s a cafe right next door! C’mon, Shiny!” she cried, diving back into the limousine.

“Shiny?” Flash asked Shining Armor.

“A foalhood nickname,” Shining replied, raising an eyebrow at Flash. “There something wrong with that?”

“No, sir!” Flash gulped, his hind legs starting to shake.

Shining chuckled. “Ah, you make it easy, kiddo,” he grinned, leading them towards the limo.

“You still got it, sir?” Skyline asked, watching the boats slowly trawling across the river.

“I have it,” Frostbite replied, pulling the small waterproof bag out of his coat and extracting the stolen note out of it.

“What do you suppose any of that means?” the sergeant asked, leaning over his shoulder and studying the references to the intemperate mare and the bringer of light.

“We’ll figure it out,” Frostbite replied, tucking the note away and reversing his coat, revealing the reddish-brown interior. Pulling the makeup kit out of the bag, he set to work applying a false sun and horseshoe cutie mark over his flanks to cover the snowflake and arrow. “We’ll have to get a silver knife and a new vehicle.”

“They’ll all be after us now, sir,” Skyline replied, his head swiveling back and forth.

“They will,” Frostbite acknowledged, taking out a razor and shaving off his beard. “But they can’t stop us. Not even Finder and Do can stop us.”

Author's Note

Twists and turns and revelations abound!

Next week, we've got a temple to explore and a desperate stallion to confront. But in the meantime, please make sure to leave a like and a comment to show some support. It really does help me in the writing process!

Case Seventeen, Chapter Five: The Bone Temple

“The Valley of Statues was first built in the late eighteenth century on the outskirts of Cuore,” Daring read from the history book propped in front of her. “It was intended to memorialize ponies who had had a great impact on the Empire’s history. Unfortunately, it was devastated by an earthquake in 1855 and largely forgotten.”

“Wonder when Sombra had that temple constructed,” Flash mused, passing through the purple dome of magic surrounding them with another stack of books balanced on his back. “Twi, you sure you didn’t miss something?” he asked dryly as he paused in front of another table, upon which was a pillar of tomes that was nearly as tall as a pony.

“No, I think that’ll be it, thank you,” Twilight said from behind the stack, picking up the books he was carrying in her magic and carrying them over.

“Are you sure?” Spike asked from next to her, rolling his eyes at the others. “I’m sure there are at least a few other books in this library.” He gestured around to the massive library that they were currently sitting in. Sunlight streamed down from the blue skylight in the ceiling, illuminating the rows and rows of aquamarine shelves with the books neatly sorted upon them. Balconies on the second and third floors looked down upon the central reading area where they sat, ponies, griffons, and other creatures slowly walking in and out of the maze of shelves as they searched for the books that they desired; a few gave the small group tucked inside the magical bubble odd looks as they passed. The only sounds were whispered conversations and the flipping of pages, muffled by Twilight’s Silence Spell.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Twilight said, not taking her nose out of Landmarks of the Crystal Empire. “We could never look through all the books in this library. And besides, it’s not like we’d find anything useful in fiction.”

Flash trotted over to Phillip’s side and gazed over his shoulder at the journal and sketches scattered before him. “There anything else about the temple in there?” he asked.

“Not that I can find,” Phillip frowned, checking a notebook full of translations. “The other pages use different keywords and I’m having some trouble figuring it out,” he admitted.

“Least we have these maps and stuff,” Flash said, looking over the looseleaf pages. He winced at a close-up illustration of what looked like a pendulum, but with spikes around the edge. “Who the fuck puts this shit in a temple?”

“Insane ponies worshipping a god of pain, war, and death,” Daring replied. “I’ve been in temples that had some basic booby traps before, but never more complicated than falling rocks or false walls that would start a flood. Not counting the Nightmare Moon Temple in the Everfree Forest."

Flash sighed. “I just signed up to be a police officer,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Daring returned to her book. “Mmm...there’s a short list of ponies that were included in the valley. Let’s see...da Whinny, Amble Volta, Martingale Polo, Gallopleo…”

She paused, her eyebrows rising up into her forehead. “Phil, that journal entry said that the temple entrance is near the ‘light-bringer’s statue,’ right?”

Phillip checked a paper to his right with a fresh translation on it. “Yes,” he nodded.

“Amble Volta invented the electric battery and helped develop the lightbulb,” Daring declared with a grin. “I bet anything that she’s the light-bringer.”

“Makes sense,” Phillip nodded.

“Now we just need to find them,” Flash said, looking over the photographs of the valley, frowning at the faded, crumbling statues standing vigil over the weed-strewn land and comparing them to the more recent photographs. “Boy. Moon and his crew did a great job,” he mumbled.

“They had to have left something behind,” Spike pointed out. “If they were planning on going back, they’d have to have left some clues so they could find it.”

“Spike’s right,” Daring agreed. “We’ll figure it out.”

“So who’s the intemperate mare?” Flash asked.

“Working on it,” Daring muttered, running a hoof down the page she was studying. “Okay...Twi, gonna need your help here.”

“Let me take a look,” Twilight said, trotting over and looking over her shoulder. “Spike, jot these down: Marcanter Aurelius, Minorian, Vino Veritas, Rosewhinny…”

After Twilight finished reciting the list of names from the book, she and the others promptly dove into the books of biographies that Flash had brought over, cross-checking names and histories.

“Marcanter is a stallion, pretty sure it’s not him,” Spike said, tossing aside a book on nomadic ponies.

“And there’s nothing about Rosewhinny being intemperate,” Flash said, tossing aside the poet’s biography.

“Wait a minute,” Twilight declared, squinting at her own book. “Vino Veritas was famous for founding the Verito Vineyards and new brands of liqueur.”

“But he’s also a stallion,” Flash pointed out.

“But his daughter, Vino Frizzante, took over the vineyards when he died,” Twilight added, reading on. “And she was infamous for being a drunkard.”

“She’s not on the list of statues, though,” Spike frowned, pointing at the list he’d written.

“Uh, hold on,” Daring said, looking back over the book on the Valley of Statues. “It does mention that Vino Veritas funded the statues...maybe he had a statue of his daughter made.”

“I don’t see how it could be anypony else on that list,” Phillip shrugged, running his hoof over several pages spread out before him.

“Of course, we gotta figure out which one of those statues it is,” Flash stated, scowling at the photographs of the valley.

Twilight flipped open two pages. One showed Amble Volta, a bright blue unicorn with spiky yellow hair and green eyes, her cutie mark a diamond-shaped cloud with a lightning bolt coming out of it. The other was Vino Frizzante, a grinning earth brown earth pony with a long purple mane, blue eyes, and a basket of grapes as her cutie mark. “Shouldn’t be too hard,” she smiled.

For the next half-hour, they pored over the photographs, comparing the statues to photographs and paintings in the texts, then trying to compare the more recent photographs of the ruins to the original layout. Sketches and maps were made, corrected, discarded, and restarted until a small pile of crumpled-up paper surrounded the table where they were working.

“You think that’s it?” Flash finally said, rubbing his eyes as they looked over the final version.

“That’s the best we can do,” Phillip grunted, staring down at the sketch that they’d constructed, a rough approximation of the statues’ locations relative to one another, with the faces of the historical figures placed next to their names, their locations marked by an interconnected web of lines. Several statues were marked only with a question mark next to the rough sketches of their faces, a few with some notes next to it.

“Nice drawing, by the way, Spike,” Flash said, nodding over the detailed sketches.

“Thanks!” Spike chirped.

“Well, we at least figured out which one was Volta,” Twilight nodded, pointing to a single circled statue with a sketch of the inventor’s face next to it. “But that leaves three statues that could be Vino Frizzante.” She pointed to three other circled statues that had question marks next to them.

“We’ll have to figure it out on-site,” Phillip shrugged.

“Okay, we need a silver knife,” Daring said, standing up and stretching. “And we’ll need some other spelunking equipment. C’mon, guys, we’re losing daylight.”

Flash sighed as the magical bubble burst with a small pop. “I suppose this is going into the next Compass Rose book?” he sighed.

“Possibly,” Daring grinned.

A rented white truck rumbled up a street leading north out of Cuore, passing from the interior of the city to the suburbs on the northern outskirts, past lovingly maintained crystal cottages that were nearly as old as the Empire itself.

“So what happens if we get there and Frostbite got there ahead of us?” Spike asked nervously from the backseat.

“We’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Daring said from the passenger seat, studying a street map. “You told Shining Armor where we were going, right, Twilight?”

“Yes,” Twilight nodded from the backseat. “He said that he would’ve accompanied us, but he and Cadance have to make a statement about this and help the gendarme search for Frostbite.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Daring nodded. “Phil, take the left up here.”

“Right,” Phillip nodded, slowing down at the stop sign and signaling for a left turn.

Flash fidgeted in his seat next to Twilight. “Twilight, you said that Shining Armor and Cadance found a way to counter the Mirror, right?” he asked.

Twilight blinked, then grimaced. “Oh, no! I forgot to ask them about that!”

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Daring said. “Just focus on getting there.”

“Spike, notebook!” Twilight cried.

“Here, Twilight,” Spike said with a roll of his eyes, handing her a notebook that she started scribbling notes in, muttering theories and conjectures to herself.

Flash took to staring out the window at the creatures outside, trying to focus on the passing houses and pedestrians rather than the swirling, taunting whispers that were running through his head. He blinked at the sight of a massive, hairy creature with two horns trotting down the street, speaking to a griffon that was flapping over his head. “Is that a yak?” he asked.

“It is,” Daring confirmed. “They’ve been allies with the Crystal Empire for years, but few of them come to Equestria.”

“I didn’t think they were that big,” Flash said, watching the yak ambling down the street, turning up a pathway to meet with another yak with long, braided hair.

Daring started to turn towards him with a cheeky grin spreading across her face. “Too easy, Daring,” Phillip said as they drove on. Daring stuck her tongue out at him.

As they proceeded northward along the smooth crystalline road, the properties began to grow larger and sparser, and patches of snow appeared on the rolling green hills. The hills began to grow larger, turning into snow-capped mountains that glistened beneath the afternoon sun, the peaks occasionally decorated by small villages. They wound around the bases of the mountains, leaving the city of Cuore far behind them.

“Yeah, turn right here,” Daring said, pointing at a rough dirt road that split off from the paved road that they were driving down. A weathered, barely legible sign stood next to the road, a single remnant of when the Valley was revered.

Phillip turned down the road and started down a long-neglected road flanked by two high mountains. The dirt crunched beneath their tires and the truck gently rocked like a boat as they trundled along.

“The Valley should be just ahead,” Daring grinned in excitement, pointing.

“Only you would be happy about going into an underground temple in search of a weapon of mass destruction,” Flash grumbled, running a hoof along one wing.

The road twisted and turned, but after climbing a short incline, they beheld their target: a great valley in a bowl-shaped depression amidst the mountains. The trees that lined the mountains around them swayed in the breeze, whispers of leaves adding to the distant noises of chirping birds. In the center of the valley was a square shallow hole nearly fifteen yards across by thirty yards long, crisscrossed with yellow ropes that made the dig site resemble a chessboard; beneath the ropes, broken fragments of stone and cracked remnants of bases lay amidst the dirt. Tables loaded with notebooks, cameras, shovels, picks, brushes, and other archaeological equipment were placed around the perimeter of the site, abandoned by their workers.

Phillip pulled the van to one side and parked it, his eyes sweeping the area. “Looks like we’re the first ones here,” he commented.

“Good,” Daring said, climbing out. She took out the sketch that they’d made and proceeded forward, circling the dig site. The others disembarked and followed her, Twilight reluctantly dropping her pages of chicken scratch notes.

“I think that’s da Whinny,” Daring said, pointing to a cracked platform with three hooves still standing atop it.

Twilight squinted at the remnants of the plaque, using her magic to wipe aside the dirt. “‘Artist, inventor, visionary…’ Yup, that’s him.” She lit up her horn and purple letters appeared over the broken stand, reading Leonardo da Whinny.

“Great!” Daring said, turning the map. “So if he’s there, then that must be Minorian…”

They slowly navigated their way across the dig site, with Twilight marking each statue’s location. “Here’s Volta,” Daring finally declared, pointing at one cracked base. “The door has to be somewhere in front of her.”

Twilight checked the map, then marked three other locations with question marks. “If we’re right, one of those should be Vino Frizzante,” she said.

Daring zipped off to one of the tables and came back with an armful of trowels, brushes, and similar tools. “Let’s get to work,” she declared, tossing some tools to the others.

The group proceeded to the first area where the door might lie and started carefully digging, scraping away dirt and rocks. “Why haven’t they found it already?” Flash pondered around as he worked the trowel.

“Professor Fossil probably only recently figured out which passage was the one he was looking for and managed to translate it,” Daring replied. “Plus, they've only been here for a couple weeks at most, digging up artifacts and remnants instead of looking for a doorway. Hey, I think I hit something.”

Everypony watched as Daring brushed aside some dirt with the brush in her mouth, squinting at the hard surface that she’d struck. The soil slowly retreated to reveal the object of her interest.

“Ah, just a rock,” Daring grumbled, scowling at the slab that had fooled her.

Spike plucked the reddish rock out of the ground and took a bite out of it, his teeth crunching. “Mmm, feldspar,” he grinned, licking his lips.

A few more minutes of digging produced nothing but soil and rocks. “Don’t think it’s here,” Phillip said, standing and stretching out his joints. “Let’s try the next one.”

“Watch where you step,” Daring chided as they proceeded across the dig site, carefully stepping over the ropes. “There’s probably some valuable stuff left behind. Try not to step on any rocks or something.”

They paused at the second possible dig site and bent down to start working. The only sounds aside from their digging were the wind blowing through the surrounding trees and the singing of birds.

Flash stood up and paused, looking around as he stretched with a frown. Nothing. No sign of anypony nearby. He let out a breath, trying to ignore a cold tingling crawling down his spine.

“Too quiet,” Phillip agreed, keeping his eyes on his work.

“Spike, you can send letters to Shining and Cadance, right?” Flash asked, his wing twitching.

“Yeah,” Spike nodded, carefully working his trowel into the dirt.

“Try not to stress out, Flash,” Twilight soothed him. “If you think too much about what might go wrong, your mind will start running away and you’ll waste energy panicking over things that never happen.”

“And I’m sure you know a lot about that,” Spike told her with a smirk.

“Oh, ha ha ha,” Twilight deadpanned as the others snickered.

“Nothing here, either,” Daring finally said, shaking her head. “Last one.”

They proceeded to the third and final dig site and set to work, slowly excavating dirt away from the ground. They worked in silence, ears perked for the sound of a trowel clunking against something solid.

Clunk.

“What’s that?” Flash cried, pausing.

“Move, move,” Daring said excitedly, brushing aside dirt with the edge of her tool and her brush. Everyone stared as she excavated the item that her tool had struck.

A silver metal hatchway sat in the dirt, the rusty surface unmarked.

“Find the edges, quick!” Daring cried, returning to her work.

The others dove in and started digging, excitedly excavating the door. Before long, they had fully revealed the four-foot square doorway. There was no sign of a handle.

As they stared down at their prize, a sudden realization struck Flash. The valley had gone completely silent. All of the birds had ceased their chirping and even the wind seemed to have gone still, as if in terrified anticipation. He gulped as another cold shiver slowly ran down his spine.

“I’ll do it,” Daring said, kneeling in front of the hatch. From her pocket she extracted an athame, the runes etched into the silver blade glinting in the afternoon sun. She placed the blade at her hoof and took a breath.

“Img-yaah, ghu-eog vet an’gyaari,” she whispered, the unnatural words scratching at her throat as she spoke them. She slid the blade across her hoof, hissing softly at the pain. Dark red blood dripped from the wound onto the metal entryway.

The wind ran down from the north, the chilly embrace seizing the crouched figures and making them shiver. A cacophony of alarmed chirps sounded as the birds watching from the surrounding trees flung themselves into the air, flapping away in a hurry. The wind pushed down at their backs: for a moment, Flash felt like something was standing behind him, breathing down his neck.

Then the door cracked and swung open with a creak, tilting down on a hinge to reveal a small shaft. Daring’s flashlight revealed a six-foot drop onto a tiled floor, with a ladder along one wall.

“Okay, Twilight, Spike, you two stay out here,” Daring instructed. “The rest of us are going to go in and check. If we’re not out in a half-hour, get help.”

“Got it,” Spike nodded, staring nervously into the pit beneath them.

“Be careful,” Twilight urged them, squeezing Flash’s hoof.

“We will,” Flash said, forcing a smile onto his face but only managing a feeble grimace.

Daring jumped down and landed on the floor beneath with a grunt, panning her flashlight back and forth. “I just see a tunnel,” she called up. “Looks just like the map in Blue Moon’s journal. C’mon, boys.”

She moved aside so Phillip could jump down, then Flash. They found themselves facing the mouth of a tunnel, the walls and ceiling reinforced with wooden beams. Flash glanced to the side and gasped: a skull was set into the wall next to him, eyeless sockets staring balefully at him. The lower jaw was missing and strange runes were carved into the pale surface. More bones--jaws, ribs, hooves, vertebrae, and skulls--were set into the walls around them, all of them intricately and carefully placed in bizarre patterns and shapes and with strange runes and markings etched into them, an art display dedicated to the worship of death.

“I guess we know why it’s called the Bone Temple,” Flash said with a nervous laugh.

“They’re just bones,” Daring told him, continuing on.

“That’s not helpful,” Phillip replied.

“Eh, point,” Daring conceded. “Let’s just get this done right quick and get out of here.”

With a gulp, Flash looked up and saw Twilight and Spike staring down at him worriedly: backlit by the pale blue sky up above, they seemed so distant, like angels looking down into Hell. He waved at them and trotted after Phillip, who slowed to allow Flash to walk beside him. They proceeded forward down the tunnel, trying their best to ignore the carved skulls staring at them as they trotted forward, carefully skirting the red tiles on the floor. The only sound was the echoes of their hoofsteps across the tunnel that slowly sloped down, deeper and deeper into the cold earth.

Finally, they reached a wider room, the walls now made of dark stone. In the center of the room stood three pedestals, all of them with a skeleton placed upon them: an earth pony, a pegasus, and a unicorn, all of them posed in expressions of horror and pain, flinching away from some unseen threat, jaws hanging open in eternal, silent screams.

“Guess this is the skeleton chamber he mentioned on the map,” Daring said, wincing as she studied the statues, casting her flashlight over the faded emblems painted onto the stone and tile walls. “This place goes back way farther than the Crystal War, it must’ve been around for maybe a century or more.” She looked back down at the map. “Okay...he mentioned a key in the west corridor. That’ll be this way.”

Daring turned and faced a narrow tunnel, with more carved bones lining the walls, and froze. For a moment, she was standing on a narrow bridge over a deep chasm, the darkness around her so thick she almost had to push through it. She and Rainbow were leaning over the edge, watching the shadows shifting beneath them as the hot wind rumbled from down beneath. And then a massive green eye, the slit-like pupil three times her body length, opened up from the depths and stared directly at her as the wind growled in the cadance of language…

Daring shook herself out of the memory, her breath coming fast and hard, her heart pounding against her ribs.

“You okay?” Phillip asked, taking her hoof.

“Yeah,” Daring nodded, giving him a weak smile. “I’m okay. Just a bad memory.”

“I want this place to be a bad memory,” Flash shuddered. “What do you think they even did down here?”

Phillip glanced down at some indistinct dark brown patches on the tiled floor and grimaced. “Things that I don’t think are worth dwelling on.” He patted Flash on the back. “Let’s just keep moving.”

They proceeded down the tunnels, with Daring in the lead, constantly checking the map. They passed small rooms, many of them with altars and strange, gruesome devices. Flash shuddered when he saw one chamber that was filled with what looked like spiked cages, all surrounding a huge, revolving wheel with an assortment of blades and spikes attached to it. For a moment, he could almost hear the echoes of screams racing through the walls.

“We’re here,” Daring finally declared, looking up.

A great corridor stretched out before them, almost large enough to drive a subway car through. Statues of Tirek, each one three times their size, lined both walls, every image of the four-armed centaur brandishing his weapons, his mouths open in howls of rage. The carved eyes glared down at the intruders as they encroached upon his territory as if considering whether to slay them with ax, sword, javelin, or flail.

“Okay,” Daring said with a nervous swallow. “Blue Moon’s journal said that the key was in the ‘false idol’s mouth.’ Maybe...maybe one of these is an incorrect detail somehow.”

They slowly wandered down the hall, sweeping their flashlights back and forth, studying the enormous statues for any discrepancy, any mistake. There were more than a dozen replicas of Tirek for them to examine in the heavy quiet that was broken only by their hoofsteps. The light from their flashlights cast shadows of the dark god that loomed menacingly over them; wind from the distant doorway whispered down the hall, at times rumbling like distant growls that made the trio repress shudders and fight to block dark thoughts from their minds.

“Hang on,” Phillip said, studying the fifth statue on the corridor’s left. This version of Tirek had his weapons lowered slightly and was sneering down Phillip, as if amused by his defiance. Phillip cast his flashlight beam over the ropy red arms, each one as wide as a train track.

“In all of the other statues, Tirek is carrying his javelin and ax in his left arms, and the sword and flail in his right,” Phillip noted.

“Yeah,” Daring nodded. “I think I remember reading about how each weapon and which hand he was carrying them in symbolized some extent of his power.”

“But here,” Phillip pointed. “He’s got the javelin in his right hand and the flail in his left.”

The two pegasi quickly checked the other statues. “You’re right,” Flash confirmed. “That’s the only one that’s different.”

“This must be it!” Daring cried, flying up to Tirek’s horned head. She squinted into the carved, sneering face, so detailed that she almost imagined that she could feel the wicked deity’s stinking breath on her face. She leaned down close to the sneering mouth.

“Can’t see a way to get in there,” she said, flapping around to the other face, this one regarding her with teeth-clenched hatred. “Nope,” she reported, maneuvering around to the third face. “Aha!” she declared upon finding that this one’s mouth was open slightly in what appeared to be a laugh. She carefully inserted her hoof into the mouth, feeling around the cold stone.

“I got something!” she declared a moment later as her hoof gripped something cold and metallic. She carefully drew it out to find that she had grabbed a silver key, the handle shaped like a skull and the grooves shaped like teeth.

“Yes! Now to the mirror chamber!" she declared, flying down to show her prize to her companions.

They followed the map down the tunnel, past more chambers with grotesque machinery and blasphemous icons on the walls, until they reached the southernmost halls. The south wall was lined with more skulls and bones, but there was no sign of a door.

Daring frowned at the map. “If the mirror chamber is about one-third of the way down from the east side…” She panned her flashlight back and forth. “We should be standing right in front of it. X marks the spot.”

The three stared at the wall in front of them. Another pair of crossed thigh bones were embossed into the wall: in a circle around it were square stone icons, some of them depicting angular hoofprints with spider-like lines emanating from the edges, teeth, weapons, or swirling lines, some of them depicting ghostly horses with three eyes and smokey wings that brought snow in their wake: windigoes, the cold-bringing heralds of Tirek who fed off of hatred and discord.

“So where’s the keyhole?” Daring asked.

“Uh, hang on,” Flash said, rummaging through the sketches that they’d brought. “I think there’s something...yeah, here!” He showed Daring a drawing that Moon had made of a set of bones crossed in an X. An arrow marked “9” pointed down from the juncture of the bones, then turned and went to the left for “3.5.” The arrow landed on a square with a pair of hoofprints. Another sketch showed a square, with an arrow pointing in a clockwise upwards arc.

“Okay, since the Empire uses metric instead of imperial…” Daring slowly traced a hoof down, then to the left, pausing at a square icon of two windigo hoofprints. She carefully nudged it and found that the top was on a hinge that allowed it to swing. Slowly, she moved it upwards in a clockwise manner, exposing a keyhole. “Nice find, kid,” she grinned to Flash, inserting the key.

The heavy click resounded from behind the stone wall, thumping through it. A sudden rush of wind rolled down the hall, sounding like the groan of something very big and very old stirring from slumber.

“Now the faces,” Daring said, crouching down. She pressed the face of a windigo at the bottom of the circle of squares, then started working her way up clockwise, touching each snarling face in turn. She pressed one final face, and then the wall rumbled and cracked, dust tumbling from the edges of a door. With a groan, the door slowly slid down into the floor, allowing them access.

The chamber within was small, barely the size of a living room. The rough walls were bare, and the only feature in the room was a single table. Sitting on top of the table was the all-too-familiar statuette.

“Tirek’s Mirror,” Daring breathed, striding forward cautiously to study their prize. Her reflection stared back at her in the bone-frame mirror, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation; for a moment, she thought she saw flickers of strange colors at the edges of the mirror.

For a moment, the face that stared back at her was her younger bloodstained self, glaring, silently accusing her with angry, hooded eyes.

“For fuck’s sake,” Daring grunted, turning away and shaking her head.

“What’s wrong?” Phillip called from outside.

“I’m fine,” Daring called back, glaring at the mirror. To her relief, her reflection was now her normal self. She hesitated for a few moments, then carefully approached, ears alert for any sign of a trap.

Thankfully, there were none. She reached the altar, reached out, and grasped the mirror by the radius that formed its handle. Finding it surprisingly light, she lifted it off the table. “Got it,” she declared, turning about with a grin and immediately freezing.

“Grazie,” said the green unicorn approaching with an assault rifle leveled at her head. In the dark of the chamber, the faint red glow of the charging crystal inside the barrel burned like an eye.

“Colonel Frostbite, I presume,” Daring growled.

“Daring Do,” Frostbite grunted. “Skyline, you got ‘em?”

“Got ‘em, sir,” the blue pegasus called back, aiming his pistol down at Phillip, Flash, Twilight, and Spike, who were all sitting down on the floor, bound back to back with ropes of blue magic.

Phillip and Daring both glanced at each other over Frostbite’s shoulder. Daring started to open her mouth to speak, but Phillip shook his head.

“You don’t know what you’re messing with, Colonel,” Daring said, taking a step back.

“No, you don’t know what you’re in, detective,” Frostbite replied, his horn lighting up. A blue aura pulsed around Tirek’s Mirror, but Daring held onto it. “Whoever you think you’re working for, they just want this Mirror for their own purposes. You think Blue Moon can be trusted? That traitor sold out his country, and then sold out his king just to save his own skin!”

“And what are you going to do with it?” Daring replied, keeping a tight hold on the artifact.

“Destroy it,” Frostbite replied. “After I find Blue Moon and make him tell me who else is involved. I’m only trying to protect the Empire.” He thrust the weapon into her face. “Drop the artifact. Now.”

“Is this how you did it in the war?” Daring growled, taking a step closer even as she held tight to the Mirror. “Threaten civilians?”

“We do what is necessary,” Skyline sharply retorted, keeping his eyes and weapon on the bound hostages.

Daring remained silent, challenging Frostbite with her eyes. He growled at her, still futilely trying to tug the artifact from her iron grasp. “Give it to me!” he barked, taking one more step forward.

Fast as a blink, Daring swung the Mirror up like a bat, aiming for Frostbite’s chin. He ducked out of the way just in time, but the impact still knocked the weapon from his grasp.

“Colonel!” Skyline shouted as the stallion barreled into Daring like a torpedo, knocking them both back into the table. The Mirror flew from Daring’s grasp as they crashed to the floor, clattering loudly as it hit the stone.

And then the mirror began to glow, colors that had no name--something close to sickly pea green, something not quite magenta-orange, and a different shade that was almost brownish-blue--dancing around the edges of the glass.

“Look out!” Twilight shouted. Frostbite glanced up, then rolled off Daring, who scrambled after him with a snarl.

A rainbow of anomalous color exploded out of the artifact with a sound like distant, echoing screams, washing over the room in waves of ice-cold wind. Everypony immediately turned away, slamming their eyes shut to protect themselves from the dark magic.

The light and noise faded after a moment, but the ponies and dragon all kept their eyes shut for a few terrified heartbeats more before tentatively peeking out. “Is everypony okay?” Twilight asked, turning her head back and forth.

“I think so,” Flash said, his heart pattering against his chest as he looked around, the only light coming from the pale blue glow of the ropes that bound the four of them together. “Shit, where’s Frostbite? And the Mirror?!"

“He’s gone,” Phillip grunted, making another effort to break their bonds. “Daring, you--Daring?”

Every head turned to stare at Daring Do, who was staring at where the Mirror had lain, her jaw agape and her eyes as wide as saucers. Eyes that were now glowing with nameless colors.

Daring slowly backed up, shaking her head and closing her eyes. Her chest started to heave as her breath started to come heavy and fast. The exhalations turned to pants, then low growls as her jaw tightened.

“Daring!” Phillip called, his heart dropping into his stomach.

She whirled her head around and glared back at him, hatred in her eyes; her sclera were now glowing those same swirling, nameless colors that had emanated from the Mirror. She crouched low to the ground and began to stalk towards them like a predatory animal that has spotted suitable prey, growls rumbling out of her throat, drool running from her clenched teeth.

“Uh-oh,” Spike mumbled.

Author's Note

Way to sum it up, Spike.

How are we going to get out of this one? Tune in next week, same(ish) Noire-time, same Noire channel! And don't forget that like and comment to show your support!

Case Seventeen, Chapter Six: Anger

“Twilight!” Phillip shouted, writhing against the magical ropes.

“Working on it!” Twilight cried, futilely trying to undo their bonds, firing spell after spell. Spike was gnawing at the conjured ropes while Flash squirmed next to him, cursing beneath his breath in panic.

Daring continued to stalk towards them, snarling like a wild animal, eyes blazing with fire. She started to circle them, eyes darting back and forth as she considered which one to attack first.

“Daring,” Phillip panted as she closed on him. “Daring, listen to me. This isn't you. This isn’t you, you hear me?”

She thrust her face into his, her narrow eyes locking onto his as her growls reached a manic pitch, hot breath assaulting his face. Up close, Phillip realized that she was trembling violently; for a moment, the colors faded away from her sclera and he saw fear in her eyes. She turned away, panting heavily, and moved back a few paces.

“Daring, fight it,” Phillip whispered. “Fight it.”

But even as he spoke, she whirled around and Phillip watched in despair as the swirling colors returned to her eyes.

“Twilight!” Phillip cried as her muscles tightened like a panther about to pounce on a lame raccoon, a snarl rumbling out of her chest.

There was a snap as Spike managed to bite through one of the glowing ropes. Twilight seized the loose end in her magic and quickly unwound the bonds. With a roar, Daring lunged at them, her wings spread in midair.

A flash of purple light filled the chamber and Daring landed on the ground with a grunt, snarling in disbelief as her hooves found nothing but cold stone floor.

A moment later, the four figures reappeared further down the hall with another snap and another burst of purple light. The predator whirled around with a growl.

“Run,” Twilight breathed.

They sprinted down the dark tunnels, guided by the magenta glow of Twilight’s horn, running past the carved bones on the walls, their pounding hoofsteps and desperate pants echoing off the walls. The heavy flapping of wings sounded from behind them as Daring pursued them, her animalistic howls echoing in their ears.

“Which way?!” Flash cried in panic as they rounded a corner. “Which way back?!”

“Left, left!” Phillip shouted, glancing over his shoulder at the golden beast, glowing eyes half-glimpsed in the darkness as she bore down on them.

They whirled left, stumbling on the stone floor, sprinted up an incline, then charged around a right turn. The Skeleton Chamber yawned up ahead, the trio of screaming statues beckoning them on.

As Phillip burst through the threshold, he slowed briefly, reaching back to one pocket. “Duck!” he ordered his companions as he jumped, twisting in the air as he threw. The boomerang whistled through the air, passing over Flash, Twilight, and Spike’s heads as they ducked beneath it, and spinning towards its target.

Daring swooped beneath the weapon, her belly scraping against the floor briefly, then rocketed right at Phillip, face alive with rage. Phillip cartwheeled out of the way, hot wind from Daring’s wake striking him as she missed by inches. She bellowed in fury as she swooped around again for another attack, swerving around the skeleton of the unicorn.

“Stun her!” Phillip barked as he caught his returning boomerang.

A volley of purple spells streaked through the air, but Daring weaved in and out of the fire, dodging every shot. She snarled in elation as her hooves seized Phillip.

But with a twist and a grunt, Phillip grappled her limbs and threw her off. She slammed into the stone base of the pegasus statue with a howl of pain and fury and Phillip and Flash both leaped forward to pin her down.

A blinding white flash momentarily illuminated the chamber with a crack of thunder and a cloud of black smoke rolled across the stone. Phillip and Flash scrabbled blindly where Daring had been, spots dancing before their eyes as they coughed on the fumes, but the mare had vanished.

“Where’d she go?!” Flash shouted, his head whirling around. Twilight lit her horn up and started trying to clear the smoke away as they all squinted through the twisting tendrils of cloud.

A gust of wind, visible as a ripple across the smoke, gave half a second’s warning. “Twilight!” Phillip cried, pointing.

Twilight turned and screamed at the sight of the feral pegasus lunging at her, the glowing eyes piercing the dark like headlamps, one hoof drawing back to strike.

But Twilight moved, bobbing beneath the swing just as Bobby had shown her a dozen times. She twisted her hips and her back hoof, puffing out sharply as her left hook drove into Daring’s ribs, just like she was the heavy bag in the basement; the blow thumped into Daring's flesh and the madmare let out a gasp of shock. Without slowing, without thinking, Twilight twisted the other way, her right elbow smacking into Daring’s nose and breaking it with a crack and a gush of blood. Daring howled, tears of pain running from her glowing eyes even as she swung blindly and missed Twilight once more as the unicorn ducked and retreated.

Flash pounced on the blinded mare, twisting to throw her to the ground. Spike and Phillip piled on, pinning her wings and forelimbs to the ground. Daring writhed beneath them, roaring in fury and spitting out phrases in a language that none of them recognized.

“Daring, c’mon. Snap out of it!” Phillip cried, leaning down and trying to get her to look at him. She replied by lunging at him, spittle flying from her face as she snapped at his face.

“Ockt-szzl!” she snarled.

“Now what?!” Spike cried, squirming as he tried to keep Daring’s wing trapped.

“Twi, do something!” Flash called. “Unbrainwash her or something!”

“I can’t!” Twilight cried, her face frozen and glowing with panic. “I don’t know how the Mirror works and this is dark magic way beyond what--”

“TWILIGHT, I DON’T BLOODY CARE!” Phillip bellowed at her, desperation converting into anger. “HELP HER!”

Twilight flinched for a moment, trembling and frozen with uncertainty, then took a breath and closed her eyes. Her horn lit up, the magenta glow casting the room with its blasphemous decorations in a cooling, calming color as a faint humming like a musical tone filled the cold air. A circle branded itself into the floor around the struggling ponies; within it, purple mists swirled around the ponies, filling the air with a faint scent of lavender as they traveled up to Twilight's horn.

“Daring, listen to me,” Twilight whispered, bending down to the hate-filled face. “This isn’t you.” And she touched her glowing horn to Daring’s forehead.

Daring gasped and went still as visions suddenly flooded her head, a wave of sounds and smells and touches and faces and emotions…

Soda bread and spag bol beneath the stars. A didgeridoo droning quietly beneath a mother’s singing. Giggling at the sight of Muziqaa sitting on Phil’s head, his trilby sliding down the little colt’s head. Singing Piano Mare up on stage, smiling as the tears ran down her face. Slowly revolving in place, listening to Phil whisper Can’t Smile Without You into her ear.

“Remember who you are, Daring Do,” Twilight intoned, her voice carrying through the thrumming music. “You are a brave mare, a kind mare, a hero. You are a mare who is loved by so many ponies. Come home to us.”

Daring blinked slowly as her struggling slowed and her snarls abated, replaced with heavy, trembling breaths. The swirling anomalous colors slowly faded from her sclera and she blinked as fresh tears began to run from her eyes.

“Oh, Faust,” Daring whimpered, her voice cracking as she shook. “Oh, Faust, I’m sorry…”

“Shhh,” Phillip whispered, his lock turning into an embrace as he tucked Daring’s head into his chest. She cried and clung to him as the others all hugged her as well, Twilight gently casting a healing spell over her broken nose.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Phillip soothed her, stroking her mane. “We all know that that wasn’t you, right? It was the mirror that made you like that.” He kissed her forehead when she sniffled. “It’s okay, Daring.”

Daring swallowed and took a shaky breath. “No, it’s not,” she growled. “Because that lunatic has Tirek’s Mirror. C’mon, let’s go!”

She stood up and started heading for the tunnel outside. The others all glanced at each other, then hurried after her.

“By the way,” Daring said, shooting a grin at Twilight over her shoulder. “Nice hook. You’ve been paying attention.”

“Thank you,” Twilight nodded.

“What happened?” Flash asked as they hurried up the twisting halls. “Where’d he come from?”

“I’m sorry, he snuck up on us about twenty minutes after you went down there,” Twilight admitted. “He had his weapon on us the whole time, and he was using a silencing spell so we couldn't call for help.”

Flash grunted. “I shouldn’t have brought you along,” he said. “I should have--”

“Flash, it wasn’t anypony’s fault,” Phillip cut in. “And she helped us with Daring. Focus on getting out of here.

They reached the exit and scrambled up the ladder, finding to their relief that the trapdoor could be opened from the inside. They climbed out into the frosty air and hurried over to where their truck was parked.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Daring cried out as they approached. All four of the truck’s tires were flat, and there was a foul-smelling puddle beneath the vehicle.

Flash bent beneath the truck. “Shit!” he grunted. “He punctured the gas tank and cut the brake line!” He slapped the door in frustration. “This guy really doesn’t want us following him.”

“Can you fix any of this?” Daring asked Twilight.

Twilight grimaced. “I could try to refill the tires and reseal the punctures, but I can’t refill the fluids.”

Phillip growled. “Spike, we need--”

“Letter to Shining and Cadance, already on it!” Spike interrupted Phillip, scribbling down a note on a notepad that he’d retrieved from the truck. He rolled up the note and puffed out a jet of green flame. The note turned into a cloud of emerald smoke that rose up into the air and disappeared.

“What vehicle did he take? Did you see?” Phillip asked Twilight.

“I didn’t see,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “He must’ve driven up, but I didn’t hear him because I wasn’t paying attention and now we don’t know where--”

“Twilight, calm down,” Phillip urged her. “Let’s check the road with a tracking spell.”

Twilight took a breath. “Right, right.”

They hustled down the narrow dirt road, Twilight scanning the ground with her horn. Tire and hoof tracks appeared in a magenta glow.

“There,” Phillip pointed at a set of large hoofprints leading down the mountainside. They followed this trail up the slight incline through the trees where the hoofprints intercepted a single, wide tire track.

“Motorcycle,” Flash concluded, bending down. “Two kickstands, wide tires…”

“Scratch here,” Phillip called, bending down to study a tree next to the tracks. “Gray paint.”

“Gray motorcycle, great. We need to get to Cuore as fast as possible!” Daring said, snatching Phillip beneath his forelegs and heading south in a gray blur.

Flash grimaced as he bent down to allow Spike to hop up onto his shoulders. “So how’d you come up with that trick to calm Daring down?” he asked Twilight, grabbing her beneath her forelegs.

“I figured that since the Mirror caused its victims to become enraged, she might calm down if I showed her some happy memories with a Recollecto Spell,” Twilight said as he lifted her into the air and started heading south after Phil and Daring. “Honestly, it was a lucky guess.”

Flash sighed. “Well, hopefully we--what is that?” he said, stopping in midair behind Daring, who was staring curiously at the swirling blue circle of energy that had appeared in midair in front of them.

“It’s a portal!” Twilight shouted. “Go through it, it’s from Cadance!”

The pegasi hesitated for a moment, then flew through the portal. There was a brief moment where their vision was obscured by swirling blue and black lights as a warm blanket enveloped them, and then they tumbled out of the tunnel and landed on a sidewalk.

Shining Armor and Empress Cadenza were standing before them, both of them adorned in cuirasses: royal purple for Shining and pale blue for Cadance. A squadron of Royal Guards surrounded them, their eyes panning the skies and the few cottages that lined the crystal paved road.

“Are you all okay?” Shining asked, helping his little sister and Spike to their hooves.

“We’re fine, Shiny,” Twilight said, hugging him briefly. “He was there. He took the Mirror. I’m sorry, he snuck up on all of us and he--”

“Twi, it’s okay,” Shining shushed her. “You did what you could. Now it’s time for us to do our part.”

He nodded down the road, where a pair of cruisers stood, their lights spinning. A barrier blocked off one lane of traffic, while gendarmes stood by, watching for any oncoming vehicles. Captain Orrizonte was manning the roadblock; he gave the detectives a brief scowl before returning to the radio that he was speaking into.

“We had these roadblocks set up fifteen minutes ago,” Cadance said as a yellow four-door came rumbling down the road, stopping at the barrier. The middle-aged blue pony behind the wheel rolled down the window, peering worriedly out as a gendarme approached her. “All of the roads leading north out of Cuore have been blocked by gendarmes and there are roving patrols. This road here is the major road leading into the city.”

The gendarme pulled out a wand and passed it over the driver, noting the faint green glow of the wand that confirmed that she was not using any illusion spells. He nodded to Orrizonte, who signaled for her to continue on.

“Frostbite is on a gray motorcycle,” Phillip reported as the car passed them. “And there’s something else…”

Shining and Cadance both listened as Phillip explained what had happened. Shining sighed and closed his eyes. “I was afraid of that,” he admitted, then waved over Captain Orrizonte. “Captain, warn your men to look out for a gray motorcycle.”

“Yes, general,” Orrizonte nodded, bustling back to his cruiser and grabbing the mouthpiece of his radio.

“He can’t have gotten that far,” Daring grunted, grabbing Phillip and taking to the air again, ignoring his sharp bark of protest. “Flash, c’mon. We can search from the sky.”

“I’ll go with you,” Cadance said, nodding to two pegasi Guards, who both spread their wings. “If we find Frostbite, I’ll send up a flare.”

“Be careful, honey,” Shining said, giving his wife a brief nuzzle. The winged ponies flew off to the north, spreading out across the clouds.

“Shining, you said you had a defense against the Mirror?” Twilight pressed.

“A love magic shield, conjured up from the memories of those you love the most,” Shining nodded. “The Mirror works by spreading a wave of psychosomatic energy transmitted through light. The real trick is that the shield isn’t for something physical: you have to filter out the energy in the light.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” Twilight said, glancing back down at her notes. “I assumed it worked through just a psychic blast, but transmitting it through light, that’s different!”

“Fiendishly clever, isn’t it?” Shining grunted. “Conjoining love and light magic is the hard part. But tell me about how you helped Daring.”

“I just got lucky,” Twilight admitted. “I used a Recollecto spell and infused it with Tranquilo Maxima and infused it with some love magic.”

“But it worked!” Shining smiled at her, giving her a brief squeeze. “Before we primarily relied on just stunning them until the effect wore off. Just more proof that you’re the best magic-user I know.” He took some of the notes. “Now, tell me again how that worked…”

“Shit, this has all gone wrong,” Frostbite grumbled, throttling the bike up the road.

“We’ll have to find another vehicle,” Skyline said, tightening his grip around his commander as he burned around a corner.

“If we can commandeer a cruiser, we can probably sneak past the roadblocks,” Frostbite muttered, pausing at a stop sign. Before them rose the stone gables of a small village, smoke rising from the chimneys. A large sign welcomed them to the township of Collina Nord, population 3,400. Ponies were walking up and down the sidewalks, milling about the small stone memorial fountain at the center of the town.

“Or we can just plow through them,” Skyline urged. He nodded to the saddlebag strapped to the back of the bike. “You have it. You can use it.”

“On soldiers?” Frostbite growled, proceeding down the road and turning into an alley. Nodding when he noticed that neither of the adjacent houses had side windows, he turned off the bike and walked it behind a hedge.

“You had no problem using it on the detectives,” Skyline pointed out.

“That was an accident, sergeant!” Frostbite snapped back, hiding the bike within the branches. After some rummaging around in one of the saddlebags, he extracted a gray trench coat and flat cap, and a makeup kit and a stencil of a horseshoe. He tossed the disguise on as he dipped the brush into the powder and quickly covered up his cutie marks with the fake markings. “Get your disguise on.”

Skyline frowned as he removed the jacket that he was wearing and threw it into the bush, then took the makeup kit himself and added a few false age lines around his mouth and ears. “Sir, we don’t know if any of them might be involved,” he protested as his CO began adding a faint layer of blush over his face, just enough to hide the age marks and crow's feet. “And besides, our priority is still the same: find Blue Moon and get him to tell us who else is part of this.”

Frostbite scowled as he tightened the belt around his trenchcoat and put the makeup kit back. He unhooked the saddlebags and tossed them over his back, frowning at the heavy weight that he felt rolling around inside the left one.

“That priority hasn’t changed,” Frostbite replied, leading his sergeant down to the other end of the alley. A quick glance around confirmed that the few ponies that were on the street showed no interest in them. He briefly scattered pale blue powder from a tube on the ground behind them, the powder glowing briefly before fading out. “But we won’t get in there if there’s an army between us and them,” he pointed out, heading down the street and immediately turning right at the intersection.

“We have Tirek’s Mirror!” Skyline protested. “You’ve seen what that thing can do! No one would be able to stop us!”

“We did learn how to stop it, sergeant,” Frostbite grunted through his teeth, giving a brief nod to a large red yak heading up the sidewalk past them. “In case you forgot. What matters now is getting to the precinct in one piece.”

Spotting a small diner, he beckoned his cohort inside and pushed through the glass door, the bell over the frame ringing to announce their entry. The scent of coffee and grilled bread filled his nostrils as he entered, giving a brief nod to the few denizens sitting at the booths that lined the walls.

“Two coffees,” he said to the gum-smacking waitress at the bar, climbing up onto a rickety stool. The waitress nodded and slipped into the back to grab their drinks.

Spinning red and blue lights danced across the wall. Frostbite and Skyline, along with the other customers, all looked up and stared as an olive green cruiser slowly drove up the road, the gendarmes inside looking back and forth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Frostbite muttered, rubbing his face with his hooves.

“It’s okay, sir,” Skyline said, patting him on the back. “We’ve been in worse stints. We’ll get out of this one. If we can get behind the main line--”

“Just stop,” Frostbite hissed as the waitress emerged, carrying a tray with two steaming cups of coffee in her mouth that she set down before the stallions. Both of them took their drinks and sipped languidly at the hot, bitter drinks as the other diners returned to their meals.

“I’m telling you, we can use that,” Skyline hissed, nodding to the saddlebag that Frostbite had dropped onto the floor. “They’d be so busy dealing with the riots that--”

“Innocent ponies could die,” Frostbite cut him off, blowing off the top of the coffee.

“Not with the Emperor and Empress here,” Skyline urged. “Just hiding here isn’t an option. You know they’re going to--”

Cries of amazement sounded from the window. The stallions looked up to see the Empress herself, her royal blue cuirass reflecting the dancing sparks of the aquamarine flare that was hanging in the air over a distant alleyway, walking down the sidewalk, with two Royal Guards in full armor flanking her. The trio’s heads were swiveling back and forth, faces set in deep frowns.

“Fuck, they caught up faster than we thought,” Skyline muttered. “Now what?”

“They’re going past us--” Frostbite was interrupted when she saw Cadenza speaking to the red yak, who was now standing outside his rug shop, sweeping the steps. The yak pointed to the door of the diner. Cadenza and her two Guards both turned towards the window and started walking across the street.

“Oh, no,” Frostbite muttered, freezing up. His hooves, still gripping the cup, suddenly felt ice cold.

Skyline turned around and glared at Frostbite. “Sir, the Mirror.”

Cadenza had already reached the sidewalk and was heading for the door. Frostbite felt his heart drop into his empty stomach, throbbing violently.

“Sir, we don’t have another option.”

The doorbell jingled as the Empress entered. Dishes clattered as diners jumped out of their seats and knelt upon the floor.

“Sir, now!”

The violet eyes, cold determination having replaced love and happiness, locked onto his. “Colonel Frostbite?” Cadenza called, stepping forward. The two Guards kept their hooves on the triggers of their submachine guns.

“Sir, the Mirror!”

Frostbite stared at doom approaching, the cold spreading through his body.

And then his hoof, as if acting under its own impulse, dove into the bag. It wrapped around the bony handle and pulled the weapon out, hoisting it high into the air.

Cadenza froze, her face fixing with horror. The Guards snapped their weapons to him. “Colonel, don’t!” Cadenza screamed.

For just one tremulous moment, Frostbite hesitated.

And then colors that had no name began to pour from the glass.

Author's Note

From bad to worse, par for the course for Phil and Daring!

Next week: Cadance and Shining bring the climax!

...not that climax. I'd tell you to get your heads out of the gutter, but then I remember whom I'm talking to.

Case Seventeen, Chapter Seven: The Battle of Collina Nord

“She found that faster than I thought,” Daring commented, banking and heading for the blue flare that was hanging over the town to their left.

“Just got lucky,” Phillip grunted, holding his trilby onto his head as Daring put on speed. “Let’s get down there and--”

He paused, his ears swiveling. A sound carried by the wind made a chill run up his spine that had nothing to do with the northern cold.

Screaming.

“Faster,” Phillip urged needlessly, for Daring was already diving down like a missile.

As they approached, they could see a writhing crowd of ponies spilling out onto the streets, their eyes shining disgusting colors. They clawed at one another with violent abandon, smashing the skulls of neighbors against the ground, seizing each other’s throats, attacking one another with whatever weapon they could seize.

“Oh, shit,” Daring muttered.

The cracks of gunshots drew their attention. Cadance was standing at the head of the street, with two of Royal Guards standing at her sides. Blue-white runes glowed on the barrels of the soldiers’ submachine guns as they fired semiautomatic stun rounds into the crowd, each glowing round instantly knocking out whomever they touched. Cadance was firing crystalline arrows from her bow, nocking and firing each one nearly as fast as her Guards' shots.

“Your Highness!” Daring called as they glided down. “Where’s Frostbite?”

“We lost him when he activated the Mirror!” Cadance called, firing another arrow at a mare who was charging them, spittle flying from her mouth like a rabid dog. Blue energy crackled around the mare as the arrow struck her and she fell with a grunt, her eyes closing in a deep sleep.

Flash dropped out of the sky next to them as a blue portal opened up and Shining, Twilight, Spike, and the two other Royal Guards jumped out.

“Stordire!” the two Guards cried upon landing, immediately opening fire into the crowd.

“We have to find Frostbite!” Shining called, casting a shield dome over them all. A thump sounded as a pegasus crashed into it, crumpling to the ground. "Push through, find Frostbite, and destroy the Mirror!"

The others all glanced at one another. “We’re with you, Emperor,” Daring declared.

“Stay close, everypony!” Shining said, casting a hard look around at his crew. His guards, Cadance, and the detectives all nodded grimly back. Twilight was shaking slightly, her face pale, but she swallowed back bile and nodded as well. Spike rode atop her shoulders, head swiveling from side to side as he watched for threats.

“Let’s go!”

Shining began to gallop north, maintaining his shield spell around them as the others followed. The group followed him, the dome pushing through the rampaging rioters around them like a bulldozer. A few ponies charged the shield, but only bounced off harmlessly before being stunned by the Guards’ weapons.

A massive crash sounded as two struggling forms dove through a plate glass window. Blood from their multitude of cuts flowed onto the street as they struggled, biting and smashing each other with their hooves.

Two quick stunning spells from Cadance and Twilight knocked them both out, causing them to sprawl onto the ground. A moment later, they were swallowed up by the churning mass of forms around them.

A blue bolt screamed through the air and hit Shining’s shield. The Emperor stumbled and fell with a grunt, his horn sparking as the shield spell faded out.

“Shining!” Cadance cried, rushing to his side as the four Royal Guards closed rank around him, firing into the mob that was now surging towards them like a single organism out to devour them.

“I’m okay!” Shining called, sending out a wave of magic that bowled over the surrounding rioters like bowling pins, allowing Twilight to conjure magical ropes that secured them to the ground. Shining grunted and ran a hoof over his horn, which sparked and flickered. “Thaumatic scrambler,” he grimaced. “I won’t be able to form a shield spell for a few minutes.”

“Frostbite,” Cadance snarled, darting her head around in an attempt to catch a glimpse of their ambusher.

The wall of a house next to them exploded outward, raining shrapnel down onto the crowd. A red yak tore out of the wreckage, bellowing as he ran into the crowd, trampling over ponies. Shining, Cadance, Twilight, Spike, and the Royal Guards all dove out of the way as the massive, bloodstained horns slashed through the air inches away from where they had stood.

As the yak raced past, an instinct took over Spike’s body. He lunged forward, grabbing the yak’s leg and digging his toes into the ground, his claws carving into the asphalt as he was dragged behind. He strained his muscles with a groan, hanging onto the leg like he was trying to stop a runaway train.

The yak grunted and stumbled, whirling around to glare at Spike. “I got him!” Spike yelled, turning to see one of the Guards, a pale yellow unicorn, pushing himself up to his hooves as he swung his weapon around.

“Tyghlfi!” the yak snarled, kicking out at Spike as he regained his footing and charged the Guard, forcing him to roll out of the way. The dragon was launched into the air with a scream, flailing through the air.

Somehow, his claws managed to seize something: the thick, curly fur of the enraged yak. Before he knew what was happening, he was riding atop a huffing, rocking vehicle, screaming and clinging on for dear life as the yak charged through the riot, bowling over ponies like they were made of cardboard.

“Spike!” Twilight cried, watching in dismay as the yak carried the dragon away.

“I got him!” Daring called, shooting off after the yak. She flew over the yak as he charged down the street. Snarling blasphemous phrases and curses, he jumped up onto the sidewalk, ramming over a lamp. The lamp fell over with a groan and crashed, sparks shooting up from the stump.

“C’mere, you!” Daring shouted, diving down. She landed atop the yak’s head, seizing him around the neck. The yak shouted and began to buck violently, trying to throw her off.

“Spike, on my back!” Daring ordered. Spike climbed up onto her shoulders, terrified half-curses stumbling from his mouth.

“Now what?!” he shouted into her ear.

“I--” Daring abruptly realized that she hadn’t really thought up a plan before pouncing on the yak.

Spike looked up and gasped. “Look out!” he shouted, pointing.

Daring looked up to see that the yak was now charging right at another house, the windows and the door smashed outwards and fire rising from the upper floors.

“Shit!” Daring and Spike shouted and did the only thing that they could: they seized the yak’s horns and tilted his head sharply to the left, trying to steer him like a runaway car.

The yak mooed furiously, but he began to bank to the left, turning away from the house and running into the grass. Daring and Spike continued to force his head to the side, struggling to control their writhing, snarling transportation. The yak’s right horn clipped a half-constructed brick wall as they guided him around in a rough arc, grunting as he stumbled over some loose bricks.

“Get off!” the yak shouted, giving them a violent buck that launched Daring and Spike from his back. The two were both sent flying right at the solid brick wall, Daring flailing in desperation, Spike screaming and hanging onto her back.

In the single heartbeat before impact, Daring managed to twist around to face the wall so that she would hit first, closing her eyes and clenching every muscle, crossing her legs in front of her face. Fuckfuckfuck--!

She slammed into the wall like a wrecking ball. The breath exploded from Daring’s lungs, her vision whiting out as she crashed to the ground, Spike thumping next to her with a dazed groan.

Her vision slowly returned and she saw the yak glaring at her from just over a yard away, the horrific colors swirling in his sclera. He lowered his head, blood dripping from his massive horns, and charged with a roar that seemed to shake the world, every hoofstep rattling her bones.

“Fuck!” Daring screamed, her hoof going for the .38’s shoulder holster. Too close, too fast, he was gonna hit--!

A brick flew through the air, cast from a purple limb. The red stone smacked the yak center on the forehead with an impact almost as loud as a gunshot, shattering into dust. The yak stumbled, his eyes rolling, then crashed to the ground, skidding across the dirt towards them. Daring grabbed Spike and rolled aside, the behemoth passing so close to them that she felt the heat from his breath before he hit the wall and stopped.

The two lay on the ground, panting and staring at the unconscious form of their almost-killer. Daring looked down at Spike, who was staring at his talon in amazement.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Not quite what I was gonna say, but yeah,” Daring nodded.

“Daring! Spike!”

Twilight, Flash, Shining, Cadance, Phillip, and the four Royal Guards all sprinted up, pushing through the streets to them. Twilight grabbed Spike in a hug. “Are you okay?” she asked, trembling from shock.

“We’re fine,” Daring said, allowing Phil to help her up, giving him a brief smile in response to the pale ghost of worry on his face. “That was close, tho--”

Hideous colors that had no name exploded over the street. The group immediately covered their eyes as Cadance conjured up a semi-translucent wall of azure magic that filtered out the anomalous light. Through the window of magic, she spotted a green unicorn with a snowy beard across the street, the Mirror thrust into the air over his head as it spat out its magic.

“Colonel, stop!” she shouted.

“I didn’t want to do this!” Frostbite called back and disappeared around the corner.

A roar like a jet engine taking off sounded from the crowd as the magic took hold. The mass of ponies began to surge with new violence, neighbors rushing each other, bodies being flung into walls and through doors and windows and against objects. Some of the villagers began to charge the royal entourage, forcing them all to rapidly retreat for new cover.

"Behind me!" Shining barked, conjuring up a purple shield wall. Enraged civilians started to batter the shield, which flickered and cracked.

“This is insane!” Flash cried, suppressing a flinch as a huge stallion slammed into the shield, roaring like a runaway steam engine. His bellows were silenced when one of the Guards fired a stun round into his head. “Your Highness, isn’t there some spell or something you can use to shut this all down?”

“It’s too risky! I could hurt all these ponies!” Cadance replied, firing a barrage of arrows that petrified a mob that was tearing at an older mare that was curled around her wailing toddler. Cadance quickly teleported the family to a nearby rooftop out of reach of the carnage and signaled them to stay down. The silently weeping mare nodded her gratitude.

“Wait...Cadance, the Vicit Draconis!” Twilight cried, firing out a volley of magenta spheres that streaked through the air with a chorus of whistling, striking at the surrounding mob and sending many of them staggering.

“The what?” Flash asked.

“It’s too dangerous!” Cadance replied, conjuring more arrows and firing them, sweat running down her long mane and blood dripping from her hoof.

“It’s love magic!” Twilight replied. “Blended into a physical form via a hardlight construct! But if you removed the physical form and blended it with the counter to the Mirror--”

Cadance and Shining both glanced at each other. “Could that work?” Shining called, wincing as his shield spell cracked and splintered beneath the constant battering of many hooves.

“Scorso rivista!” one of the Royal Guards called, slapping his final mag into his submachine gun.

“We might not have a choice!” Cadance replied grimly, closing her eyes as energy swirled from her horn.

The blue mist coalesced another crystal arrow, this one larger than normal. Sparks and bolts of blue lightning danced across the runes carved into the shaft.

“Is that it?!” Daring shouted. “What’s one arrow going to do?!”

“A lot,” Cadance replied as she nocked the arrow into her bow, drawing in a slow breath to calm herself. She reached down into herself, calling to the power that her crown granted her: the power of her Empire, of all its citizens, all of their love and hopes and dreams and fears and hatred and anger and grief, all gathered into the Crystal Heart, a sleeping giant waiting for the command of the Crystal Empress. For the second time in her life, Empress Cadenza called to it, shivering as the well of power washed over her.

Her hoof did not tremble as she pulled the bloodstained drawstring back and aimed the arrow up into the air. The heart-shaped head of the arrow began to glow with blue-white energy, waves of that same energy rushing down the length of the arrow as Cadance’s mane and tail began to flow in an unseen wind. She snapped her eyes open, her eyes glowing the same color as the arrow. Energy surged down her face like serpentine smoke and she gritted her teeth as she struggled to control the flood of power, harness it, direct it, release only the small amount she needed.

“PER L'IMPERO DI CRISTALLO!” she roared, and fired the arrow. The arrow passed through the shield with a whistling.

Then it exploded in a burst of light like a blue-white sun had just crested the horizon. The sky shook with a great roar as the light formed into a shape: a massive snout full of teeth, blazing eyes, a long serpentine body, claws, and giant wings.

“Holy shit!” Daring gaped in astonishment as the dragon twisted through the air, glimmers of a rainbow dancing through the transparent scales. The conjured beast, the same one that had once destroyed King Sombra, flew over the crowd, seemingly pulling the anomalous colors from the eyes of the surrounding ponies and into its bodies. The uncorrupted ponies paused as the spell was removed, blinking in confusion as they stared at their neighbors, staring in horror at their bloodied hooves and dropping their makeshift weapons. The dragon twisted through the air in a prismatic display, the screaming and howls falling silent in its wake. Finally, when all was quiet, it slowly faded away into wisps of magic.

Cadance dropped to her knees, panting and leaning against her husband as he dropped his shield spell. “It worked,” she sighed, giving Twilight an exhausted smile. “Good thinking, Twi.”

The wailing of sirens announced the too-late arrival of the marshals. Their green vehicles, red and blue lights spinning, screeched up the road as they stopped. The marshals exited their vehicles, eyes wide and jaws dropping as they surveyed the carnage. The rioters staggered about the street like zombies, some sitting down and clutching their heads as they began to weep, some vacantly clutching injuries as they trembled.

A northern wind blew down over the village like a relieved sigh. Gray clouds began to roll over the sky, a cool rain gently falling onto the surviving ponies.

“Oh, that feels good,” Spike sighed, tilting his head up to welcome the rain.

“Twilight, you and Spike stay here and help us with the wounded,” Cadance said. “The rest of you…” A grim shadow of remembered ghosts passed over her face. “Find him and stop him.”

They hustled through the alleyway where they had seen Frostbite, passing through to the other side, where wounded civilians stumbled, zombie-like, past the bodies that lay on the stone like discarded trash.

Phillip cast his eyes about and spotted something on the ground. A castfire assault rifle discarded on the sidewalk, next to a trio of bodies covered in circular burns. “That’s his weapon,” he said, pointing.

Shining lit up his horn and purple glowing hoofprints appeared next to the weapon, leading further down the road. “Let’s go,” he grunted.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Frostbite muttered, tilting his head against the rain, shouldering the bags and hurrying down the street.

“Have to keep moving,” Skyline urged, flying beside him. “Have to get a car or something. Get to Cuore--”

“Shut up!” Frostbite shouted, whirling on his subordinate. “Just shut up! We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you! Ponies have almost died!”

“And where would we be if it hadn’t been for me?!” Skyline snapped back. “Blue Moon and his band of traitors would have Tirek’s Mirror by now and they’d be using it on the city. Bringing it back to the rest of Sombra’s cultists! Fossil, Moon, they’re all traitors that are in on it! You know it!”

Frostbite was silent for several moments, shaking his head as water dripped down his white mane and beard. “No, no, you’re right,” he mumbled. “But this...this is just…”

“Sir, we’ve done worse,” Skyline pressed. “We both have to carry that. But the mission is the same: keep the bad guys from getting the Mirror. And the only way we can make sure that we get them all is if we get Blue Moon--”

“Frostbite!”

Frostbite and Skyline turned and faced the stallion that was now approaching them, water dripping off his purple armor. “Stay back!” Skyline ordered, raising his weapon at the white unicorn.

Frostbite blinked. “Major Armor?” he asked, his eyes going to the prosthetic leg. “What happened to your leg?”

“I lost it in the war, Colonel,” Shining replied, his saber rattling softly as it bounced against his cuirass. “And it’s General now, remember?”

“Sir,” Skyline hissed to his companion. Frostbite squinted through the rain to see others taking up positions on the nearby rooftops: four Royal Guards and those three detectives, all of them aiming their firearms down at them.

“We don’t want anypony else to get hurt,” Shining continued, pausing a yard away from Frostbite, keeping his steady gaze fixed upon him. “But you need to put down the Mirror.”

“I can’t do that, Shining,” Frostbite scowled, raising his pistol with one hoof. With his magic, he lifted Tirek’s Mirror out of his saddlebag and hoisted it up into the air next to him, faint light circling around the mirrors. The watching sentries tensed up, weapons centering on him, but Shining’s hoof snapped up, silently ordering them to stand down.

“What is all this for, Frostbite?” Shining pressed, apparently not noticing or caring that the Neighretta M1934 was aimed directly at the center of his forehead.

“That traitor just wanted the Mirror so he and his cronies could use it,” Frostbite snarled. “We just wanted to get him to tell us who else was involved.”

“Sir, he’s probably involved in it,” Skyline hissed, keeping his weapon on Shining.

“Colonel, do you think that we would trust him if we hadn’t checked him out already?” Shining continued.

“He would if they were working together,” Skyline replied.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Frostbite replied, keeping his weapon on Shining.

“Colonel, we worked together for years,” Shining said. “When have I ever given you reason not to trust me? I’m just trying to keep more ponies from getting hurt.”

Frostbite glanced at the Mirror, then scowled at Shining. “Or maybe you just want this for yourself.”

“Did Skyline tell you that?” Shining said.

“And I’m right!” Skyline replied.

“If you have an issue with it, Shining, you can take it up with him,” Frostbite scowled, gesturing to his partner. “He’s right there.”

“No, he’s not,” Shining replied gently.

The two stallions stared at him for a beat. “Are you daft, Armor?” Frostbite grunted. “He’s right there!”

“Colonel,” Shining said slowly. “Skyline was a good stallion. He was one of the best soldiers I’ve ever known, a great friend, and he was brave right up until the end.”

“Don’t talk about him like that! He’s right there!” Frostbite pressed.

“No, Colonel,” Shining said. “Skyline has been dead for six years.”

“You son of a bitch!” Skyline shouted and fired his pistol, the gun kicking hard in his hooves as it spat out its fire and brimstone.

Nothing happened. No one reacted, no wound appeared in Shining’s head; he just continued to stare at Frostbite, his eyes full of pity.

Frostbite stared back and forth between Shining and Skyline, his jaw hanging open. “No...that’s not…”

“Do you remember Persano, Colonel?” Shining whispered. “The ambush?”

An RPG screamed through the air, skimmed over the top of the embankment that they were crouched behind, and detonated in the dirt mere yards behind them. Dirt cascaded down onto the purple shield spell like rain, the pattering drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

“MEDIC! MEDIC!” Frostbite screamed, securing the tourniquet around the bloody stump of Shining’s leg. The major gritted his teeth, tears of pain leaking from his eyes, but kept the shield spell around the three of them.

Skyline stood up, puffing as he hefted the heavy machine gun, sweat running from beneath his helmet. His bellows mixed with the thunderclaps of castfire spitting from the red-hot barrel, burnt orange beams racing through the shield towards their unseen targets. Blood from his many wounds dripped into the mud.

“Hang on, son,” Frostbite said, clasping Shining’s shoulder. “Medic’s on the way. You’re gonna be fine.”

Shining swallowed and nodded. “I damn better be,” he grimaced, wincing as a barrage of bullets slammed into the shield, causing his horn to flicker. “I’ve got Cadance waiting for me.”

“Eat this, fuckers!” Skyline bellowed, his knees shaking with the effort of holding him up as his weapon continued to spit its vitriol towards their foes. The barrel was now glowing almost the same color as the beams he was firing. Sparks were shooting out from the cooling vent.

“Sergeant, cool your weapon!” Frostbite cried, but his shout was drowned out once more by the thunder of a grenade exploding outside the shield, the noise slamming into them like a physical force.

Skyline didn’t hear him, continuing to hold down the trigger. Sparks were now shooting out of the cooling vent like a firework. “Sergeant!” Shining called.

The gun exploded in a burst of orange light with an earsplitting crack, shrapnel flying everywhere as Skyline was thrown to the ground. The blue pegasus writhed on the ground, howling in agony and clutching the burns that now covered his body. The horrid scent of blackened flesh mixed with ozone crushed the stallions’ nostrils.

“Skyline!” Frostbite cried, rushing to his aide’s side. Skyline sobbed in agony, clutching his colonel’s hoof.

“Medic!” Shining called, waving. A unicorn mare, the mud over her fatigues nearly covering the red cross on her armbands and her saddlebag of medical equipment flapping in the wind, sprinted over the hills towards them.

“Don’t leave me,” Skyline whimpered, squinting up at Frostbite.

“I’m right here, son,” Frostbite assured him, squeezing the burnt hoof. He looked up just in time to see the medic skidding through the shield, panting heavily as she knelt down next to Shining Armor.

“Not me!” Shining grunted, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Help him!”

The medic turned to Skyline, then shook her head and started working on Shining’s leg.

“Medic!” Frostbite shouted, grabbing the mare in his magic and yanking him over to them. “You have to help him!”

“Sir, I can’t,” the medic replied, her blue eyes filled with pity. “I’m sorry. It’s too late.”

“No, I--!”

Frostbite looked back down at Skyline and froze. The battle faded away into the background as he stared at his ward’s face, his brain refusing to process what his eyes were telling him.

Skyline was staring up at the sky, the purple light of Shining’s shield spell reflecting in his empty irides.

“Skyline died bravely,” Shining continued, water running down his face. “And I know it hurt you. But he’s not there.”

Frostbite stared at the blue pegasus, who suddenly grimaced and clutched his chest, his pistol tumbling to the ground. It hit the ground without a sound. Tears began to leak from the pegasus’ suddenly desperate, pleading eyes.

“Don’t leave me again,” Skyline whimpered. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

“This has to stop, Colonel,” Shining continued. “You need help. But first, you need to put the gun and the Mirror down.”

Frostbite stared silently, his hoof slowly dropping. “Skyline,” he whispered.

As he helplessly watched, the blue pegasus closed his eyes with a whimper. Then slowly, he faded like a mirage and with a soft sob, vanished. Frostbite stood frozen in the street, sobbing as tears began to run down his face, mixing with the rain. His horn went out and Tirek’s Mirror splashed into a puddle.

Shining Armor gently picked up the Mirror with his magic and tucked it into his saddlebag. “That’s it, Colonel,” he said, slowly stepping forward and stretching his hoof out to take the gun; behind him, his Guards and the detectives all slowly lowered their own weapons. “Now just let me…”

The Neighretta slashed up through the air. “General!” the Guards shouted, their submachine guns snapping up, iron sights centering on Frostbite’s head.

Fast as lightning, a blue arc cleaved through the air with a metallic shiing. A heartbeat later, Shining Armor was slowly returning his saber to his sheath as he stood in front of a sobbing Frostbite, who was holding his pistol to his head, futilely pulling the trigger, producing no result aside from a very faint clicking.

The hammer of the weapon lay on the wet ground, the smoothly cut edge still faintly glowing blue.

“It’s okay, Colonel,” Shining whispered, hugging the older stallion. The gun clattered to the ground as Frostbite began to sob onto his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Author's Note

"Who is this Hanzo and why does everypony ask if I main him?" --Cadance

Maybe it's because I'm miffed about how much the show worfed them, but I just have this burning need to prove that Shining Armor, Cadance, Celestia, and Luna really are badasses. So this was a real love letter to two badly underrepresented characters.

I hope that wham line worked well for y'all! Though a few of you who watch NCIS might have seen that twist coming. Yes, I will admit that that was an influence on this story, but I hope that you enjoyed regardless! We'll wrap this up next week. In the meantime, please leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Seventeen, Chapter Eight: Time Heals All Wounds

With a buzzing and crackling of magic, a blue portal opened into the upper chambers of the Crystal Palace. Twilight, Spike, and Flash staggered out of the swirling gateway first, all of them groaning quietly and massaging tender muscles. Then Phillip and Daring exited, both of them equally exhausted. Finally, the Emperor and Empress came out with their squadron of Royal Guards.

“Fuck, I need a drink,” Daring groaned, spotting a minibar stocked with bottles. Snatching a hard bourbon, she unstoppered the cork and downed several gulps in one go.

Twilight turned and stared out the window to the north, studying the sky that was crossed with faint oranges and yellows from the setting sun. “What’s going to happen to Colonel Frostbite?” she asked Shining.

Shining Armor mopped his sweaty mane as he headed over to the bar, taking a bottle of Frangelico and two glasses. “I’m going to have to speak to the district attorney,” he said. “He needs to be sent to a hospital, not prison. But he still has to answer for his crimes.”

Cadance collapsed into a chair like a heavy weight with a long exhalation, mopping her eyes as she accepted the drink that Shining was offering her. “An entire village..." she panted. "Thirty-six dead, more than a hundred wounded...Madonna, it was like the war again…” She sniffled and feebly choked back a sob.

Shining climbed onto a chair next to her and gently pulled her into his arms. “Sergeant, please take the...thing down to the secure archives,” he instructed the Guards, nodding to the large metal box that they were holding between them with their magic. “We’ll deal with it later. And triple security on that, understand?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the Sergeant nodded with a bow, then turned and led her cohorts out of the study.

“You guys,” Shining said, nodding to the others. “Thank you for all your help with the cleanup today.”

“Least we could do,” Daring said, taking another long draught of alcohol. She closed her eyes as she swallowed down the sweet taste, trying to banish the images of blood and broken bodies from her mind, the sounds of bodies being placed onto rattling stretchers, of ponies wailing and sobbing over parents, siblings, children. One memory clung to the forefront of her mind: two young foals sitting on the grass outside their home, staring at their father as he sat on the curb, head bowed as he stared at his bloodied hooves, the rain failing to wash the crimson away. The kids were looking at their father with a mixture of grief and apprehension, simultaneously wanting to approach him and repulsed by him.

“If you head down to the banquet hall, the servants will get you something,” Shining continued. “Just...Cadance and I need a moment.”

“Right,” Flash nodded, heading for the door.

“And Flash?” Shining called, causing the younger stallion to pause at the door, meeting the monarch’s solemn eye. “Thank you for taking care of Twilight,” Shining nodded.

Flash blinked in surprise for a moment, then nodded back. “My pleasure,” he said and exited, giving Twilight a brief, shy smile as they left.

Her belly full of daisy pasta salad and Frangelico, Daring stared out from the balcony of their room, her eyes tracing Draco’s tail through the sky. She took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled the smoke, watching as it drifted over the sleeping city. A wind whispered up over Cuore and she shivered slightly.

“You coming to bed?” Phillip called from inside, where he was already laying down on the mattress, raising his head to look at her.

Daring sighed. “Yeah, I…” She paused, then doused the cigarette in an antique ashtray.

“What is it?” Phillip pressed.

“It’s nothing,” Daring shook her head as she reentered the bedroom, closing and latching the doors behind her.

Phillip watched as she trotted over to him, moving as though she had a great weight over her shoulders. “It’s obviously not nothing,” he frowned at her.

She gave him a feeble glare for a moment, then sighed as she sat down. “I wish we could do more,” she mumbled.

“So do I,” Phillip nodded. “But the survivors need help that we can’t give. That said, I know Cadance will make sure that they’re taken care of.”

Daring nodded, then moaned and rubbed her heavy, weary eyes. “I don’t really want to speak to Luna tonight,” she admitted. “It’s just...a lot happened.”

“I know,” Phillip replied, taking her hoof in both of his. “But that’s probably why you should talk to her. And to me if you want to. And if nothing else, you need to sleep.”

“I hate when you’re logical sometimes,” Daring grumbled, placing her free hoof over his.

“Maybe this is what parenting is like,” Phillip said with a smirk.

Letting out a feeble chuckle, Daring collapsed onto the massive bed. She snuggled up against Phillip, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as she felt his arms gently wrap around her barrel, and his soft lips gently brush against her cheek.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, closing her eyes and allowing sleep to steal over her.

When she opened her eyes again, she was laying in a meadow surrounded by trees that whispered in a gentle breeze, stars swirling through the purple sky overhead. The dew on the grass tickled her feathers as she sat up.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight, Princess,” she admitted, turning to see the lunar monarch standing behind her. “I thought you’d be busy.”

“Aye, I am going to have my hooves full with the traumatized villagers,” Luna nodded sadly. “But I will always have time for those in need. And tonight, you are also in need.”

Daring stared at her right foreleg, studying the cursed brand dispassionately. “I…” She sighed. “I don’t know. Even if I get rid of this brand...even if that works...it won’t erase what I did.”

“Nothing can,” Luna admitted, draping a wing around her and gently pulling her into a hug. “But you’ve spent the last year and a half trying to make up for it. And the lives that you’ve helped save, in mine and my sister’s opinion, weigh far more than those that you’ve hurt.”

Daring shifted in the grass, saying nothing. Luna’s embrace held her a little tighter, the comforting warmth soothing the pricks of doubt that were running through her veins.

“That brand is not what is holding you in the past, Daring,” Luna said. “It is you. Only you. As many talks as we can have, you are the only one who can forgive yourself. You are the only one who can let go of the past, because you are the one holding it.”

“How?” Daring asked. “How am I supposed to forget?”

“Not forget,” Luna said. “Forgive. See what you have learned, what you have done since then, how you have grown and changed.” She waved her hoof and the grass before Daring’s hooves turned into a pond, the pure water reflecting the violet sky and twinkling stars.

Daring hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward to look onto the smooth, mirror-like surface. She expected to see the ghost of her younger self once more, glaring back at her from beneath the water, but instead, she saw herself: clad in her green vest and pith helmet, haggard face shadowed by doubt and maybe a shred of hope, gently held by Princess Luna, who was gazing at her with a look of motherly compassion and concern.

“Look into yourself and see that you are no longer the angry, scared, broken mare who made those choices,” Luna said. “But instead, a strong, brave, intelligent mare who fights for justice, to protect and avenge the innocent. A mare who sometimes makes mistakes, who sometimes has doubts, just as any creature does, but does what she knows is right no matter what.” She beamed down at the smaller mare. “In short, a hero.”

Daring just continued to stare at her reflection, who stared back at her in silence, head cocked to one side in contemplation. She reached out with her right forelimb and gently touched the cold surface with the marked hoof, sending gentle ripples through the water that distorted her reflection for a brief moment. Then the ripples ceased and her doppelganger was there, still touching her blemish against hers, still unchanged save for a small, tangible note of relief around the edges of her countenance.

“I know it is hard,” Luna whispered, nuzzling the crown of Daring’s head. “But you must try, lest you carry that weight with you forever.”

She looked up into the purple sky as if divining something from the swirling stars. “I must go now,” she declared, slowly releasing Daring from her embrace and spreading her wings. “But remember, Daring: you are never alone. Through all the doubt, all the fear...you are not alone.”

A rustle in the trees prompted Daring to turn around, smiling at the sight of Phillip emerging from the treelines, smiling back at her.

“I know,” Daring said, rising and trotting over to him. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her warmly. She returned the embrace with greater warmth and enthusiasm, pushing him down onto the dew-kissed grass. He smiled, stroking her cheek, admiring the way her scarlet eyes twinkled down at him against the backlight of the stars.

“You feeling better?” he asked.

“Much,” she replied, nuzzling him.

“Told you,” Phillip smirked.

“Shut up and cuddle me,” Daring replied.

The morning was a rush of press conferences, messages to the press, making statements and affidavits, and reassuring witnesses and survivors from Collina Nord. While the Emperor and Empress handled the press and public, the others spent most of the day in the palace, hiding from the swarms of hungry reporters.

“I kinda preferred the anonymous life, to be honest,” Phillip said into the phone, staring at a small cluster of reporters hanging around outside the palace like an unkindness of ravens.

“Things were simpler back then, weren’t they?” Bobby chuckled on the other side of the line.

“Too right, dad,” Phillip nodded.

“How are you two doing?” Daring asked, leaning in closer to the hoofset so she could speak into it.

“We’re holding up alright,” Rain replied. “Playing at the Apple Pie is a bonzer time, and Rara, AJ, Pinkie, and Steamed Carrot are all so sweet. Oh, by the way, Daring, Rainbow Dash sent a letter yesterday, we’re holding onto it for you.”

“She’s got, what, a couple weeks of boot left?” Bobby said admiringly.

“Yup,” Daring nodded with a small grin. “Rainbow Dash, Air Force reservist, and one step closer to being a Wonderbolt.”

“Fair dinkum?” Bobby said. “Well, ripper for her. Not many fillies would bounce back as well as she has.”

“I know,” Daring replied, feeling a rush of pride rushing through her center.

“Are you all okay?” Rain asked. “We heard about what happened over the radio news, and we…”

“We’re all aces, mom,” Phillip replied. “I know you worry, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Maybe we should’ve gone with you,” Bobby replied.

“Dad, no,” Phillip cut him off. “Mom needed to stay for her operations, and you needed to take care of her. Besides, there wasn’t anything you could’ve done to help.”

Bobby sighed. “You’re right, of course. Just wish we could be of more help to you.”

“You’re a huge help,” Daring replied. “Just having you around to take care of us after…” She swallowed and gently pushed away the lurking memories before they could overtake her. “After what happened and just being there for us to talk to meant a lot to us both. And it still does.”

There was a brief pause that was filled with warm compassion transmitted over the thousands of miles. “We’re so proud of you both,” Rain said.

Phil and Daring beamed at each other. “We know,” Phil said, then sighed. “Listen, we should go.”

“Okay. We love you, ampa,” Rain said.

“Love you, too, mom,” Phillip said.

“Love you, too,” Daring added, the words surprising her as they fell out of her mouth.

“We’ll see you when you get home,” Bobby said, then the line clicked. Phillip hung up the phone with a contented sigh.

Daring looked out the window, briefly frowning at the reporters outside, then looking up and studying the clear blue sky.

“I need a fly,” she declared, stretching her itching wings. She shot a grin at Phil. “You wanna come?”

“Do I have a choice?” Phillip asked.

Daring rolled her eyes upwards with a grin, making a show of thinking about it for a moment. “Well, I’m not gonna force you,” she said.

Phillip studied her for a moment, then sighed and spread his forelegs slightly. “Fine. I need to get out of here anyway.”

Daring grinned, then in the blink of an eye, snatched him beneath the forelegs and shot out the window in a blur of gray and black, laughing over his startled shout.

That evening, deep in the halls of the Palace, a serious discussion took place.

“You can’t tell me you like Black Lioness more than Owlmare,” Flash protested, frowning at Shining.

“Owlmare is a rich mare with issues,” Shining Armor defended himself, folding his forelegs. “Black Lioness is a queen. I think it’s clear which one is superior.”

“Black Lioness is just Owlmare as a zebra!” Flash said. “More proof that Marevel Comics is just a bunch of copycats.”

“How are they similar?” Shining protested.

“Dress in black, super-rich, angsty, both named after scary animals, lots of ridiculous high-tech gadgets, use stealth and martial arts…” Flash replied, ticking off points with his feathers. "But Owlmare is superior in one aspect."

"What's that?" Shining asked skeptically.

"Black Lioness just needs to eat that magic fruit to get her powers," Flash declared. "Owlmare doesn't have any powers; she had to work to get to where she is."

“Oh, you’re gonna tell me that a mare who can survive in space for forty seconds and dodge point-blank gunshots doesn’t have any powers?” Shining snorted.

Flash opened his mouth to protest, then frowned. “Okay, fine, you have a point,” he grumbled.

Spike cleared his throat. “If we could get back to this?” he asked, gesturing to the sheets of paper and sketches of maps that were spread out on the table before them. “We’ve still got a village to sneak through.”

“Right, right,” Shining said, returning to his character sheet. “Um…I’ll have my rogue try to sneak up on the night watchpony guarding the street.”

“You sure?” Spike asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You guys have a better option?” Shining asked.

“Considering we got the one watchpony in fiction who actually pays attention, not really,” Flash commented as Shining scooped up the twenty-sided die. He blew on his hoof for luck, then threw it out onto the table. The blue die clattered across the stone surface, then stopped, displaying its result for the three to see.

A two.

Shining grimaced as Spike chuckled to himself. “Ghost attempts to creep up the alleyway, but slips on a banana peel and stumbles into a garbage can. The clatter causes the watchpony to whirl around and spot him!”

“My paladin moves to a covering position so he can take the watchpony out,” Flash declared, checking his character sheet and grabbing another wingful of popcorn from the bowl. He chewed on the snack and glanced up at the door, fidgeting in his seat slightly.

“Twilight and Cadance will be back when they’re done,” Shining told him, giving him a reassuring smile. “Now, how about you roll that die and save my ass? I’m going to try to Fast Talk the watchpony to keep his attention on me while Sun Shield--” He paused to give Flash another querying half-smile.

“Oh, and Ghost Pact is such an original name?” Flash snarked.

Shining chuckled in acquiescence. “--moves into position.”

A roll of 11 resulted in the confused watchpony regarding the clumsy hooded unicorn laying before him, covered in trash, listening to his slurring explanation about coming home late. Sun Shield moved into position around the block.

“Shield nocks a dart into his hoofbow,” Flash narrated, licking his lips. “He raises it up and takes aim at the watchpony…” He gripped the little plastic die, feeling Shining and Spike’s gazes boring into him, then closed his eyes and threw it. The die bounced once, twice, three times, each hit seeming to echo disproportionately loudly. Finally, it came to a stop. Flash kept his eyes shut: Shining and Spike’s silence hit him like a ton of bricks.

Finally, he dared peek one eye open and stared at the result.

Twenty.

“Direct hit!” Spike shouted. “The sleep dart hits the watchpony right in the neck and he collapses unconscious in the blink of an eye! Ghost scoops him up before he hits the ground and drags him into the alleyway, all without being spotted!”

Shining and Flash both cheered and slapped hooves against each other, laughing.

“Having fun, boys?” Cadance smiled from the door. She and Twilight were standing at the threshold, holding a scroll between them.

“We need to do this more often,” Shining grinned at Flash.

“I’d like that,” Flash nodded.

“I really hate to interrupt,” Twilight said, lifting up the scroll. “But we’re ready to try again.”

Once more, Daring found herself staring into the Crystal Heart, the others all arranged around it, standing in Twilight’s arrangement of circles. Twilight was currently staring at her notes, muttering to herself as she made a few last-minute adjustments.

“Now,” Twilight said to Daring. “If it doesn’t work--”

“It’ll work,” Daring cut her off. “I’m sure it will.”

Twilight gave her a brief, nervous smile and a nod, returning to her work.

“It will,” Phillip added, giving her an encouraging smile from the other side of the Heart. She smiled back at him, returning the nod.

Once more, Twilight, Shining, and Cadance all lit up their horns and fired a spell into the Heart, which began to spin in its setting once more, the ethereal music slowly rising to an angelic pitch. A rainbow fired from the Heart and struck Daring Do, washing over her body. Golden lightning danced around her feathers and a soothing warmth covered her like a blanket.

Once more, she stared into the Heart.

And once more, past the swirling colors, she stared back at the accusatory glare of her younger self.

You can’t erase what you did, her past self accused her.

I know I can’t, Daring replied. I’ve accepted that. But that doesn’t mean I have to hold onto you anymore.

Hold onto me? the phantom sneered. I am you, you idiot! You can’t let go of yourself!

Yes, I can Daring replied. I can let go of my past. Of my mistakes. Of the guilt. I’m done letting you define me, holding me back. My past is not today. I was a thief. A murderer. A criminal. But I am not those things anymore. And I’m ready to move on.

She lifted her right hoof, a tingling coldness swirling around the cursed mark, and stretched it out to her past. The younger Daring glared at the proffered hoof for a moment, then slowly, almost reluctantly, extended her right hoof. The two cursed brands met, burning hot against the cold, but Daring did not flinch.

I forgive you, Daring whispered to her past self.

The anger in the reflection faded away, replaced by a deep, exhausted relief. The reflection began to change and shift before her eyes, growing up, age lines fading over her youthful face. The dark clothes were replaced by the green cargo vest and pith helmet.

Thank you, her reflection whispered and vanished. The colors and lights and warmth faded away as well, and the music emanating from the Heart slowly faded to a quiet, soothing coda. The magical circle that Twilight had formed slowly faded away and vanished.

“Daring,” Phillip said, staring at Daring’s right hoof with wide eyes.

Daring looked down at her limb and gasped. The skin was whole and unblemished. The brand was gone. She flexed the hoof, then slowly ran a wing over it. The skin tingled in response to her touch, the damaged nerves responding.

Daring let out a little noise that was half-laugh and half-sob, her face splitting into a wide smile. Phillip hustled over to her and they embraced, both of them softly laughing as the tears began to fall.

“Thank you,” Daring breathed to the others.

“Anything for a friend,” Twilight said as she, Spike, and Flash all joined the hug.

Twilight sat at the desk in the great crystal bedroom, scribbling down some notes on the grand piano-sized desk of amethyst, the surface littered with books on Crystalline magic and history.

“What’re you working on?” Flash asked, checking over her shoulder.

“I’m making some notes on the memory spell I used to help Daring,” Twilight replied, writing down a complicated magical formula. “Maybe it can be used to help trauma victims in the future!”

“That’s really cool,” Flash smiled. “I love that you’re always thinking of others.” He paused for a moment, then smiled. “You know what would be really cool? If you could do that awesome dragon spell that Cadance did.”

“The Vicit Draconis is a complicated, powerful spell that Empress Amore invented,” Twilight replied. “The exact details are mostly secret, but I’d have to be an alicorn to pull it off.”

“Well, you’re a princess to me,” Flash grinned, wrapping his forelegs around Twilight’s barrel and squeezing her. She giggled and pressed the back of her head against his chest, lifting her chin up to allow him to kiss her on the lips.

“Blech,” Spike grumbled from the small circular bed next to the queen-sized mattress covered in magenta sheets, scowling at them over the top of his Power Ponies comic. “If you two are gonna be acting like that, maybe you should get a Trojan out of the drawer next to the bed.” He nodded to the small claw-foot table next to the larger bed.

“Spike!” Twilight cried as she and Flash blushed furiously, the pegasus quickly releasing Twilight and backing away.

Spike flipped the last page of the comic over and put it down with a sigh. “Great job, Humdrum,” he mumbled to himself, rolling over and covering his head with the deep purple blanket. “G’night, you two.”

Flash and Twilight stared at each other as Spike’s soft snores filled the room. “So…” Flash chuckled, rubbing the back of his mane. “Who put...those there?”

“Probably Cadance,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes. “Her idea of a joke. A welcoming present for you.”

“Right…” Flash mumbled, rubbing the back of his mane and deliberately trying not to look at the bed. “So, um...I’ll be going back to my quarters now...unless, um…”

“Um…” Twilight mumbled. “You could...stay with me, if you wanted…”

“Do you want me to?” Flash blurted out.

Twilight shrugged a little, her blush increasing to match Flash’s. “I mean...okay.”

They both grinned nervously at each other and climbed onto the cloud-soft mattress, crawling beneath the covers.

“You know,” Twilight said, cuddling up to Flash with a grin. “If I’m a princess, then I guess that means that you’re a knight, right?”

Flash chuckled. “I thought the cheesy stuff was my department, Twilight. And aren’t I supposed to save you from the dragon?” He nodded to the small bundle of snoring cloth next to them.

“That trope is a tad cliche, anyway,” Twilight smiled, then kissed him deeply on the lips. Flash kissed her back with a small moan of delight, rubbing her warm back.

His moan became a muffled grunt of surprise as the kiss became deeper, more forceful. “Uh, Twi…?” he stuttered.

“A princess should reward her knight,” Twilight cooed, a strange glimmer in her violet irides and a glow around her smile that made tingles run down Flash’s spine.

They paused for a moment, staring at each other in uncertainty like two divers looking over the edge of a cliff to the churning sea below. Then Flash lunged forward and kissed Twilight again, both of them opening their mouths to welcome each other. Flash’s hoof flailed for the night table’s drawer as Twilight lit up her horn and cast a Silence Spell around them.

Author's Note

Turned out to be a good night for everypony at the Palace.

And that ends this story arc! I hope you enjoyed this latest adventure and if you did, be sure to leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Next week, Phil and Daring are headed down under for an all-new adventure in the outback! See you then!

Case Eighteen, Prologue: The Journal

The rain ran down the front windows of the bookshop, blurring the view of the street outside, even if the only ones looking out the window were the felt bats and grinning ghosts and jack-o-lanterns stuck to the glass or hanging from the ceiling. A brief letup in the rain revealed a bright red streetcar clattering up the cobbled road. Behind it, visible through a gap between two brick buildings, a building shaped like great white sails sat in the distant bay amidst the dark, roiling waves.

A brown-bearded stallion, his head bent beneath the rain that pattered against his black umbrella and his brown trench coat, trotted up the sidewalk and pushed through the doorway, the bell jingling over his head.

“Shoulda brought my bathers. If this comes down any harder, the street’s gonna be turned into a billabong!” the earth pony grinned to the zebra mare behind the counter, his leathery, weatherbeaten face lighting up with the smile.

“Too right, Deck,” the striped mare smiled back, pushing her red-framed glasses back up her dusty-colored snout and shaking a lock of her mane out of her face, the single red stripe in her white mane draping down her cheek. She pushed the small cup on the desk forward a bit, the small cookies inside rattling temptingly. “Bikkie? Just cooked ‘em fresh this morning.”

“You know I can’t resist, Akely-Pip,” Deck smiled, taking a small chocolate cookie from the tin and chewing it. His tired blue eyes panned over the oak shelves, every one filled with books of every size, color, and description, all of them lovingly organized. “Any new ones?”

“Do you smell new books?” the bookmare chuckled as she hopped off the stool. Without the height boost, the zebra’s eyes barely peeked above the counter. She trotted around the counter, limping on a right hind leg that was twisted to the outside; a brief flicker of pain showed behind her smile as she approached her customer.

“Well, my nephew is bringing his marefriend over this week, and I wanted to find a couple of presents for ‘em,” Deck explained.

“I see,” Akely-Pip nodded. She led her guest towards the back of the shop, pointing at a large cardboard box that lay open on a table.

“Got some advance copies of that new Compass Rose book: ‘Compass Rose and the Abyss of Despair,’ just in time for Nightmare Night!” Akely-Pip grinned, hoisting up a book and displaying the cover: a dark blue pegasus mare in a vest and fedora staring down into a dark canyon, her lantern illuminating a pile of yellowed bones on a small ledge. Behind her, the shadow of a horned beast loomed over her, dark against the night sky. “

“I think that the sheila will like this,” Deck smiled, taking another book and studying the cover. “Mmm, a history of sailing.”

“Maybe they should’ve asked you about that one,” Pip chuckled, showing off a journal of Aushaylian wildlife. “Hmm, I think there’s a book on local history that you’d like, and if your nephew is like I remember him, he'll definitely enjoy this one...eh? What’s that?”

The Aborigineigh pulled out the anomalous tome and studied it. It was a battered journal with a pale green cover, half-torn from the first yellowed page.

“I don’t remember this being in the invoice,” she mused, opening up the cover. The first page declared that this book was a diary, with two lines for the owner’s name and the year, each of which had been written in faded blue ink.

Both ponies stared at the name and date, mouths agape.

Captain J. Bushwhacker
Moon of Rain 1844

“Not possible,” Akely-Pip breathed, stroking the name with a hoof.

“It is,” Deck whispered reverently, his face glowing with rapturous joy. “This is Captain Bushwhacker’s journal!”

“In my shop!” Akely-Pip squealed in delight.

“I’ll have to take it back to my library,” Deck said. “Examine it, make sure that it’s the dinky-di.”

"No, I should take it!" Pip interrupted.

"Akely, I've searched for this all my life," Deck protested.

"So have I!" Akely replied. "It was in my shop!"

"You know I have the resources to make sure that it's real," Deck continued. "And that I can keep it safe. And that I can go out into the desert looking for it." Deck looked pointedly at the bookmare's injured leg. Akely scowled back at him for a moment, then relented with a brief wince. Deck held out his hoof. Pip stared at it for a moment, then looked at the journal, chewing her lip in thought.

"Akely, please," Deck pleaded. "We'll both share the credit for it. If I need any help with the clues, you'll be the first pony I come to."

"You and Yellow Page," Akely grumbled.

"Yellow Page is just a historian," Deck replied. "You, you've always been the heart of this, and you know more about the local legends than anypony else I know. Equal credit, I promise."

Akely-Pip studied the journal for several long moments, then closed her eyes and stood in silence for several seconds. Finally, she sighed and put the journal in his hooves with a smile.

"For the good old days," she nodded.

“At long last, Bushwhacker’s treasure,” Deck breathed, staring at the journal like it was a solid block of gold. “I have to get back!" He kissed the small mare on the cheek. "Thank you, Akely!”

He slapped some bits on the counter, grabbed his purchases, and darted from the bookshop back into the rain, nearly leaving his umbrella behind in his haste. A blushing Akely-Pip waved goodbye to him from the doorway, smiling at his eagerness.

As she turned away, a car drove past, tires hissing in the puddles. Her eye instinctively turned to follow the green vehicle’s progress. And as she did so, she spotted two figures across the street.

Both of them appeared to be Aborigineigh like her, from what little she could see of them beneath the hooded cloaks that they wore, their gray coats marked by black stripes. One was a mare, judging by the long, pure white locks that were spilling from her hood, all the way down to her knees. Her companion appeared to be a stallion, the bristly fetlocks dripping with rain. Both of them appeared to be watching the bookstore.

But at the same moment that Akely-Pip saw them, another car passed by, obscuring her view. When it passed by, both of the cloaked Aborigineigh were gone. The mare turned her head left and right in bewilderment for a moment, failing to spot the strange ponies in the rain.

“Hmm,” she muttered to herself as she shrugged it off, limping back to her stool. It had to have been a trick of the light, but for a moment, she could’ve sworn that the two strangers’ eyes were glowing white.

Author's Note

Side note: "Pip" is Alyawarr for "book," and "akely" means "Little." When I found out what the word for "book" was, I just couldn't resist.

Anyway, we're about to embark on a new case! I'm taking a pretty big risk with this one, with some more important revelations about this world and our heroes' place in it and a more dramatic shift in the genre of this story, but I hope it pays off. And more importantly, I hope you enjoy it!

Case Eighteen, Chapter One: Welcome to Sydneigh

The train clattered gently as it ran across the flat plains of red dust and scrub, the lights in the sleeping car automatically dimmed to encourage its passengers to prepare for sleep. Daring stared in amazement out the window, drinking up the sights of the desert stretching out to touch the infinite, pure black sky dotted with twinkling silver stars.

“It’s not that bloody amazing,” Phillip smiled, sitting on the bed of the private compartment that they’d claimed as their own. Their hats and vests were resting in the small wardrobe set into the wall next to the door.

“You only say that because you grew up here,” Daring replied, casting her eyes over the Aushaylian outback. “This place is awesome! I’ve never seen stars so clear before--oh! Kangaroos!” She pressed her nose against the glass, her face glowing at the sight of the herd of bipedal, mouse-like creatures bounding across the landscape as if chasing after the train. “Faust, I would’ve loved to have grown up in a place like this,” she said. “Younger me could’ve gone exploring out here for hours, trying to dig up Aborigineigh artifacts and going on wildlife treks.”

“Suppose we could go on a wander later,” Phillip said, rising to join her at the window and wrapping a foreleg around her as he studied the night sky. “Just you and me, out in the bush...I could take you along some of the songlines my mother and grandmother taught me…”

“Songlines?” Daring asked, faintly recalling the word from a book that she’d read long ago.

“It’s how Aborigineigh navigated the lands,” Phillip explained. “See, they believe that when the world was being created during the Dreamtime, when things were just waking up from the dreamworld, the spirits walked across the world, leaving behind landmarks as they created the world. Songlines are songs that describe the landmarks the spirits left behind that somepony can use to follow their trail.”

“Ah,” Daring nodded. She nestled up against Phil’s side, draping a wing around his withers and tucking her bare head against his shoulder.

“I’m really glad you could come down with me,” Phillip said, nuzzling her mane, inhaling the warm scent of jasmine shampoo, coffee, and liquor that made up Daring Do.

“Of course I did,” Daring replied, tucking her face against his warm shoulder. The familiar aroma of rum, rain, and cheap cologne was instantly soothing to her.

“You’ll get to meet my grandmother,” Phillip said. “And Uncle Prom, I bet you’ll love him.”

“Prom?” Daring asked, looking up at him.

“Promenade Deck,” Phillip said. “My dad’s half-brother. He was a sailor most of his life, retired when I was a teen to devote himself to collecting books about local history and stuff.” He grinned at the way Daring’s violet eyes glimmered as bright as the stars outside at the mention of history books. “Thought that’d get your attention.”

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” Daring said, leaning up and kissing him on the lips. He melted into the kiss, slowly rubbing her back.

A moment later, he grunted in surprise when she abruptly pushed him down onto the bottom bunk, both of them sprawling onto the small, firm mattress.

“Maybe I should show you a good time, too,” Daring purred, the glint in her eyes turning predatory as she rested her head against his shoulder, gently wrapping her wings around his body.

Phillip huffed and arched his back, groaning as her feathered appendages reached their target. “How...how long has it been since we did this?” he nickered, smiling.

“Too long,” Daring breathed, rubbing his heaving chest, feeling her own heartbeat accelerating with every moment. “Far, far too long.”

“Then let’s make this one memorable,” Phillip grinned. He took Daring’s face in his hooves and pulled her into a kiss, reaching up to turn out the light as he did so.

“Ladies and gentleponies, we’ll be pulling into Central Station in about fifteen minutes,” the announcement carried through the train the next morning. “Please be ready with all of your luggage. Thank you for journeying with us and welcome to Sydneigh, the capital of Aushaylia!”

Passengers in their compartments calmly began to gather their belongings, preparing for disembarking with a clattering of objects and voices that mixed with the rattling of the train wheels beneath them. In one compartment, a red stallion carefully unfolded a wheelchair from the corner of the room.

“Easy does it,” Bobby said, lining up the wheelchair next to the bed.

“Boys, I’m telling you, I can do it myself,” Rain sighed, sitting up on the bed, her body rocking slightly with the motion of the train.

“I know, but we want to help,” Phillip said, positioning himself next to the chair.

Rain sighed heavily, but smiled faintly as she crawled over to the edge of the bed, grunting in effort as she dangled her paralyzed hind legs over the edge. Her husband and son took up positions on either side of her.

“Okay, one, two, three…” The two stallions gently lifted her up and placed her in the wheelchair.

“My heroes,” Rain said, adjusting her position carefully.

“You guys ready?” Daring asked, wiping the last vestiges of her toothpaste from her mouth as she stuck her head in the door.

“Just about,” Bobby replied, starting to place his hooves on the handles of the wheelchair only for Rain to gently wave him off. He turned and looked out the window, smiling at the sight of the city outside, buildings and roads passing by. “Welcome to Sydneigh, sheila,” he said. “Can’t wait to bring you down to the old ranch and the Opera House!”

“It’ll be good to see the Outbackers again,” Rain said, steering the wheelchair to the door. “I’m just glad that they were able to keep together without us.”

“You didn’t think they were gonna split off and form their own band?” Phillip teased as Daring handed him his set of saddlebags.

“They could bloody try,” Bobby smirked, following his wife out onto the passageway. “But they’d never find another didgeridoo or clarinet player as good as my Rain.”

“Or a trumpet player as good as you,” Rain smiled, leaning back to allow her husband to kiss her, prompting Phil and Daring to roll their eyes good-naturedly.

The train was slowing as it pulled into Central Station, a great red brick building with a giant clocktower stretching above the city to the sky, its hands announcing that the time was half-past seven. The train rounded a corner and slowed dramatically as it passed into the covered platform, steam billowing from the engine as the brakes squealed.

“Welcome to Sydneigh!” the uniformed attendant declared, hopping onto the platform and pulling down the steps to allow passengers to climb down. Passengers started to disembark, some of them allowing the attendant to help them down onto the concrete platform.

The family made their way down to the platform, Rain using the levitation charm to descend the stairs, and proceeded across the platform, weaving through the stands hawking newspapers, cigarettes, food, and other travel essentials.

“There they are!” a voice called and a group of ponies charged over to them. The Outbackers pounced on Bobby, Rain, Phil, and Daring with joyful shouts and embraces.

“Easy, easy!” Bobby cried, allowing Giana to tussle his mane affectionately. “Yeah, we missed you, too, you wankers.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Phillip feebly protested, blushing faintly as Rock and Roll String both kissed him on the cheek.

“Like we were gonna let you head back to the ranch on your own,” Sax City declared, slapping Phil on the back and taking his saddlebags. “C’mon, we got the trucks waiting out front.”

“Good to see you again!” Siren Bliss cried, flinging her forelegs around Daring’s neck.

“I…” Daring stammered for a moment, unsure how to react to the affection, then gently hugged her back. “Yeah. Good to see you, too.”

“We can’t wait to show you around,” Play Bitz grinned. “You’re gonna love Sydneigh!”

“I’m sure I will,” Daring replied, following the Outbackers...her family across the platform.

The entourage proceeded through the train station and out front, where two large white trucks were waiting. Rain, Bobby, and Phil sat in the backseat. Daring climbed into the front passenger seat as Play Bitz climbed into the driver’s seat.

“How far away is the place?” Daring asked as the truck started up.

“Not far,” Phillip said. “About twenty minutes out. Think you can sit still that long?”

Daring stuck her tongue out at him as the trucks pulled away from the curb and headed out through the streets of Sydneigh.

The vehicles trundled west, the asphalt quickly giving way to dirt that swirled through the air in their wake. The brush around them rustled in the wind, broken up by farmland, with power lines running alongside the street.

Within twenty minutes, they finally reached a wide ranch. A set of small white houses stood amidst the mowed grass, with small enclosures of wire fencing populated by a few cows and sheep.

“This is the place,” Phillip said as the trucks pulled into the lot and stopped.

“Wow,” Daring commented as she hopped out of the passenger seat. “You actually grew up here? Milking cows and shearing sheep?”

“In between rehearsing and studying,” Phillip said as he and his father hopped out, stepping aside to allow Rain to levitate herself out. Noting Daring’s smirk, he frowned at her. “The band didn’t pay all the bills,” he explained.

Daring sniggered and booped him. “Whatever you say, farm boy.”

The red door on the main house opened and a mare exited. The Aborigineigh mare’s mane was a dull silver color, tied back into a long braid decorated with beads and feathers. The stripes in her coat had dulled to a pale gray color, and her cutie mark was a single feather imposed on a trio of wavy blue lines. She proceeded towards the trucks with a broad smile, moving stiffly but surely.

“Amey,” Rain beamed, wheeling herself over to the older mare and greeting her with a hug. Phil gave her a kiss on the cheek and the three began to speak in Aborigineigh, Phil’s speech noticeably slower and more hesitant from years of disuse.

“Daring, meet my grandmother,” Phillip said, beckoning her over. “Ilpay Aympelh, River Feather.”

River Feather turned to greet Daring, beaming at her. She reached over and stroked Daring’s face, speaking Aborigineigh in a slow, slightly croaky voice.

“She’s happy to see you,” Rain translated. “She welcomes you to the family.” Then, with an impish grin, she added, “And she’s looking forward to meeting her great-grandchildren.”

“She didn’t say that!” Phillip protested, both he and Daring blushing vivid red. Both mares snickered at their embarrassment.

The other truck pulled up and the rest of the Outbackers began to disembark, carrying out their guests’ bags, carrying them into the house for them. Rain wheeled over to assist them, leaving Daring with River.

Mentally ordering her cheeks to return to their normal color, Daring looked over at River, who smiled back at her placidly. “So...what do I call you?” Daring asked.

River tilted her head to the side in puzzlement. “Um…” Daring thought for a moment, mentally kicking herself for not taking the chance to have Rain teach her more of her native language, then pointed at herself. “Ampa,” she stated, then pointed at River, giving her a querying look.

Understanding flashed into River’s face and she pointed to her own chest. “Anyany,” she said.

“Anyany,” Daring said, speaking slowly to savor the word. Grandmother.

River pointed at Rain and Bobby. “Amey, akngey,” she said

“Amey, akngey,” Daring repeated. Mother. Father.

“Aypmenhey,” River continued, pointing at Daring.

“Aypmenhey.” Granddaughter.

With a smile, River pointed at Phillip, who was following Bobby into the house. “Anenty,” she said.

“Anenty,” Daring repeated, pointing at Phil, who had paused and was giving his grandmother a red-cheeked frown. “What’s that, boyfriend?”

Rain laughed loudly, prompting Phil to shoot her a dirty look. “It means husband,” he grumbled to Daring.

“O-oh,” Daring said, blushing again as Bobby, Rain, and River all laughed.

“C’mon, let’s get you settled in,” Bobby said, nodding for her to enter.

The sitting room of the ranch house was decorated with hoof-carved furnishings, an open window leading to a small but well-stocked and maintained kitchen. The Outbackers promptly attacked the kitchen, gathering dishes and food and carrying them out onto the patio, gathering up a barbeque grill.

“Oi, Bobby, you gonna help?” Sax City said, stacking some ground beef and slices of hay onto his plate.

“You need me to hold your hooves around the barbie?” Bobby snarked.

“Nah, we just need our taste tester,” Rock String replied.

“All an elaborate plot to poison you so Sax can take over the band,” her sister Roll giggled, opening up the sliding door to allow Bobby and Sax to head outside as Giana started up the grill.

Left behind in the living room, Daring’s eye was immediately drawn to a large painting on the wall. Instead of a canvas, the painting was set upon a large piece of bark. Drawn upon it in vivid watercolor was a magnificent display of Aborigineigh artwork, gentle lines running across a blue and yellow background. Zebras in black and white cavorted across the bottom of the painting, dancing beneath blue lines of rain that fell from the swirling gray clouds.

Above the clouds was a trio of familiar figures. The white zebra-like figures were painted the same swirling gray colors as the clouds that they stood upon, their wings spread. They stared down at the Aborigineigh beneath them, wide glowing white eyes staring from their mouthless faces. Their heads were surrounded by circles of lightning, represented by black spears arranged in crown-like arrangements.

“Wandjina,” Daring said, lifting up the totem necklace from beneath her shirt and comparing the carving of Awely-Awely to the wandjina on the painting. None of them had her long, blazing white mane or the same design of the lightning crown, with its more intricate, interlaced arrows.

“Yes,” Rain nodded. “These aren’t Angkakert or Awely-Awely, these are some of their children. This painting depicts the wandjina giving rain to the Aborigineigh so that they can grow their crops.”

“Grandma made this,” Phillip said.

“Wow,” Daring said, drinking in the sight of the painting. She found herself drawn in by the glowing white eyes of the rain spirits; despite not having mouths, they seemed to be regarding their charges with great tenderness. “What’s the word for beautiful?”

“Anthiparr,” Phillip said after a moment of thought.

“Anthiparr,” Daring told River, pointing at the picture. The elder nodded her gratitude.

“You guys seem to have a lot of wandjina around here,” Daring commented, taking another look at her totem necklace and comparing it to Phil’s totem of Angkakert, who had a shorter mane and a gold crown of longer arrows.

“They’re our tribe’s guardian spirit,” Rain explained. “Each tribe of Aborigineigh has their own spirit, one of the inhabitants of the Dreamtime that favored them, taught them their songlines. The wandjina have protected our ancestors for generations. And they have always guided Phil.” She turned and placed her hoof over Daring’s. “And I’m sure that they will protect you as well.”

“Hey!” Charlie Ivory called from outside. “You wankers gonna come out here and join us for lunch or what?”

Daring stuck her tongue out, drawing her right foreleg back, adjusting her grip on the boomerang. With her left, she aimed at her targets: a trio of empty beer bottles stood up on the fence that marked the boundaries of the empty pen she stood inside, the once-white paint peeling off it.

“Oh, c’mon, sheila!” Bobby called from where the others were watching, another bottle of Kanga-Rum held in his hoof. “What was my boy teaching you?”

“How about you come over here and do better?” Daring replied, shifting her grip. She took a breath, feeling the faint tingle of magic dancing beneath the carved wood of the weapon, running down her foreleg. Exhaling slowly, she snapped the boomerang out. The weapon spun through the evening air with a whistling, arcing around to strike two of the bottles, shattering them into shards of glass that caught the setting sun as they tumbled to the dirt; the third bottle just wobbled slightly in the wind.

The observers all groaned in disappointment as the weapon returned to Daring’s hoof; even some of the cows that languidly chewed their cud from a neighboring patch let out low moos of sympathy. “You guys threw me off,” she grumbled. “I’m not used to having an audience.”

“Just takes practice,” Phillip said, patting her on the back. “Keep at it, and…”

He smirked and nodded to Play Bitz, who placed two more empty beer bottles on the fence, one to Phil’s left and one behind him, then stood to his right and pulled out a match, striking it against the box and holding up the flickering flame. Phil drew his boomerang and weighed it for a moment, gesturing for Daring to stand back. She backed off a few feet, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

In a single motion, Phil threw the boomerang out, snapping it right at the first beer bottle. The bottle smashed into glass shards with a crash of thunder, the sound immediately followed by the second and third bottles smashing. The boomerang sped past Play Bitz in a blur, fast enough to rustle his mane. The flame of the match was snuffed out with a faint puff and Phillip caught the weapon without looking.

“And maybe someday you’ll be as good as me,” Phillip grinned at her as the Outbackers all applauded and whooped.

“Wanker,” Daring snorted, giving him a boop with a half-smile.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck with this,” Bobby said, trotting over to the side of a barn. He pulled down a coil of rope and carried it over to her.

“A whip?” Daring asked, taking the object in her hooves. The tapered black leather rope was attached to a six-inch-long plaited handle by a loop of leather.

“A stockwhip,” Bobby replied. “Ranchers have been using them to herd cattle for years. Just the noise is enough to get them to move. Rain learned how to use this when she was a mere anklebiter; Phil picked it up when he was no more than six.”

He took the whip back and stepped back several paces, leaving a wide enough berth for him to swing it safely. He swung the whip up over his head, the leather cord swinging around with a heavy swoop! Then he snapped it down with a sharp motion. The whip looped around and struck the air with an ear-splitting crack!

“Go on, try it,” Bobby said, pressing it back into her hooves.

“But I don’t know how,” Daring protested.

“It honestly isn’t that different from your kusarifundo,” Phil said, taking it from her. “The trick is keeping it all lined up and making sure you get the loop properly formed.”

He raised the whip straight up, his arm held straight: Daring noted that the whip formed a loop as it came up. Then he snapped it down and the whip struck the air with a crack.

“Now you try,” Phil said, passing it to her. “It’s got a bit of magic in it to make it easier; when mom made it, she weaved some clouds and potions into the leather to carry a charge.”

“I feel it,” Daring nodded, lightly brushing a feather against the thick leather cord. A tingle of energy like static electricity danced across her primaries and down her spine.

“You know how to make it speak to you,” Phil continued. “Straight up and down.”

“Okay…” Daring said. She held her arm out stiff and raised the handle straight up, then snapped it down. The whip uncoiled out sharply but did not crack.

“You gotta do it a little faster,” Phil said. “Put some snap into your wrist. Like I said, just like your kusarifundo.”

Daring took a breath and held the whip out in front of her again, flicking her wrist emphatically; it reformed itself obediently, listening to the command. She loosened up her shoulder, then raised the whip straight up. Swoop!

The coil looped around and Daring snapped it down, just like she was cracking the weight of her weapon against a target’s temple.

Crack!

“Ripper!” Phillip said as the others all applauded.

“Now hit the bottle!” Bobby declared, placing his empty rum bottle on the fence.

“Oh, Bobby, don’t pressure her,” Rain chided with a weary smile.

“It’s okay, Rain,” Daring said, facing her target.

“Y’all better stand way back,” Siren Bliss warned the others, who all walked back several yards.

Daring gave them a Flying Feather as she lined herself up. She swung the whip back and forth a few times, feeling the magic inside flickering down her foreleg in response to her movements. She swung the whip up, then cracked it out. The air cracked a foot to the left of the bottle.

“Almost,” Bobby said. “Give it another try.”

Daring paused to line herself up, shifting to the right a bit, then cracked the whip again. The whip cracked the air a few inches to the right of the bottle, causing it to wobble upon its perch.

“Getting closer!” Giana cheered.

“This time for sure,” Bobby urged her.

Daring stepped back to take a few practice swings. A rhythm of swoop-crack, swoop-crack, swoop-crack sounded in the air as she practiced; with every repetition, she felt the magic inside the whip travel even further down her foreleg, running down her spine and along her wings. She allowed it to flow across her body, harnessing it, allowing it to blend with the familiar humming of the flight magic in her wings. And once she knew that it was part of her, she turned around and faced the bottle again. She took a breath and cleared her mind: no hesitation, just do it.

Swoop! The leather reached up to the sky, forming a perfect loop.

Crack! The bottle shattered into dust, the sound mixing with the thunderclap of the whip.

The Outbackers all burst into cheers and applause as a grinning Daring snapped her wrist, causing the whip to coil around her body. The applause turned into laughter when the end smacked Daring in the face, knocking her pith helmet askew.

River smiled and said something to Rain, who nodded. “What’d she say?” Daring asked, fixing her helmet and trying to hide her embarrassed flush.

“She said you remind her of Captain Bushwhacker,” another voice declared. A white stallion with a brown beard and the cutie mark of a table with a map and book sitting atop it was walking up to the pen, a grin on his face, and a couple packages tucked beneath his foreleg.

“Bloody late, Uncle Prom,” Phillip declared, trotting forward to greet the new pony with an embrace.

“Sorry, lad, I had some work to do at home,” the stallion said as Bobby clapped him hard on the back. He looked over at Daring, a grin on his weatherbeaten face. “Is that the sheila?”

“Daring, my Uncle Promenade Deck,” Phillip introduced her.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, sheila,” Promenade Deck said, shaking her hoof.

“Well, so much for good first impressions,” Daring replied with a chuckle.

“Here, here, I got a couple things for you,” Promenade said, handing Phil and Daring each a package.

Daring tore open her wrapping and blinked at the book inside. “Oh...the latest Compass Rose book. Cool!” she smiled, clenching her jaw together to try to contain the laughter that was bubbling up from her gut.

“Real thoughtful, Uncle Prom,” Phil said with a suppressed grin as Bobby and Rain both turned away, their shoulders shaking as they covered their mouths with their hooves. Phil quickly tore open his package, revealing a book with the title Amethyst Wolf, Gentlepony Thief: the Complete Collection. “Oh, crikey. Thanks, Uncle Prom,” Phil said in obvious delight.

“I knew you’d like it,” Promenade Deck nodded, ruffling his nephew’s mane.

“So who’s Captain Bushwhacker?” Daring asked.

“Oh, no, here we go,” Siren Bliss groaned, rolling her eyes.

“You got him in his storyteller mode,” Giana said.

“Best pull up a chair, we’re gonna be here for a while,” Charlie said, sitting down with a grunt and fumbling with a bottle of beer before Sax City popped the cap off for him.

“Captain Jamie Bushwhacker was one of the first Equestrians to explore Aushaylia,” Promenade Deck explained, taking off his hat and heading over to a chair next to River. “She started her life as a privateer, a licensed pirate hunter, way back in the 1820s. She accidentally landed on Aushaylia in 1827 while searching for a pirate fleet and made friends with the Aborigineighs who lived there.”

While he was speaking, River trotted over to a small shed; through the windows, Daring could see a small workshop with glass bottles, a mortar and pestle, and a variety of herbs and plants arranged on shelves. River reemerged a moment later with a small bundle of gray clouds tucked beneath her forelegs.

“Aborigineigh magic,” Phillip explained in response to Daring’s raised eyebrows. “I tried to learn how to use clouds for years, but it never clicked for me. Not enough Aborigineigh blood, I guess.”

River sat down and began to weave the cloud as expertly as a weaver at her loom, forming the shape of a pegasus mare in a tricorn hat and a fancy coat standing upon the deck of a ship, a daring grin on her face, her mane and tail blowing back in the wind.

"Since she was the first Equestrian to reach the land, the Aborigineigh were instantly fascinated with her and her crew, and she was just as curious about them,” Promenade continued. “She started coming back more and more often, and she took it upon herself to learn their language and their customs, writing down much of what she learned. When she told the Equestrian Navy of this wonderful new land she’d found and its people, other ships started to come. Trade started between Equestria and Aushaylia, and Bushwhacker herself introduced Princess Celestia to the tribal leaders.”

River reformed the cloud into a new diorama, showing the captain standing beside Princess Celestia, who was smiling and extending her hoof to an entourage of Aborigineigh tribal leaders adorned in ornamentation.

“Because of her, an alliance between the Aborigineigh and the Equestrians flourished: Equestrians began to emigrate to this strange new land, bringing with them cattle and sheep, setting up cities and railroads, trading with the natives.” Promenade paused to take a sip of beer.

“Jamie thought that the sea was always her home: she’d always loved the wind in her mane, the taste of the salt spray on her tongue as she hunted her foes,” Promenade narrated as River began to reform her clouds. “But she hadn’t counted on one thing.”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Daring said, rolling her eyes.

“She fell in love,” she and the Outbackers all sighed as one.

Rain chuckled. “Oh, don’t be like that, ampa,” she grinned at Daring. “You can’t really claim to be any different, can you?”

Daring glanced at Phil and shuffled her hooves. “Fine,” she grumbled.

“She met an Aborigineigh stallion, Aherrk,” Promenade said as River completed her next diorama: an Aborigineigh in a simple cloak that almost covered his cutie mark of a sun peeking over the horizon, a hoe over his shoulder and a contented smile on his face. “Aherrk was a simple farmer, honest, hardworking, and humble. Every time Bushwhacker came to port, he was one of the first to greet her, always with her favorite meal: emu with potatoes and carrots."

"Emu?" Daring asked, her face creasing in a mixture of surprise and disgust.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Promenade admonished with a grin. "Aherrk would take her out into the bush to watch the sunrise and she would help him tend his crops. Their love blossomed over the years, until one evening while walking upon the beach beneath a beautiful sunset, he asked her to be his wife. And of course, she said yes.”

River had already built the scene for them: Aherrk kneeling before Bushwhacker, kissing the hoof that he held in both of his own as his love smiled down at him, joyful tears running down her face.

“Bushwhacker, with her injuries and age finally catching up to her from her years of battling on the high seas, took up a new life as a farmer and explorer, with her husband by her side,” Promenade concluded. “They raised healthy cattle; Bushwhacker, once known for her skill with the sword, became renowned for her skill with the stockwhip. Their descendants flourished as well, and their blood remains a part of this land.”

Promenade took another sip of beer, then leaned forward, a conspiratorial glimmer in his eyes. “Of course, that’s all that proven history tells us,” he grinned.

“And there he goes,” Rock String rolled her eyes.

“We’re all too old for fantasy bedtime stories, Prom,” Roll groused.

“Oh, you drongos are just a bunch of nay-sayers,” Promenade declared to them before turning back to Daring. “I’m talking about the treasure.”

Daring’s ears perked up. “Treasure?” she repeated, ignoring the groans of the band members and Phil rolling his eyes.

Promenade chuckled knowingly. “Over the years, Captain Bushwhacker accumulated a lot of treasure from the pirates that she captured and the commissions that she earned,” he explained. “Enough that she couldn’t carry it on her ship. But Aherrk found a secret cave somewhere in the bush, enough for her to store her treasure. They hid it away and Aherrk composed a songline so that they and their family could find it again.” He leaned in closer.

“And it’s not just treasure that’s hidden away in there,” he added in a conspiratorial stage whisper. “There are two legendary weapons tucked away in that cave, wielded by Bushwhacker and Aherrk themselves. Weapons that were once used to save this land!”

Daring leaned in closer, listening intently, an excited tingle in her hooves not unlike that she had felt as a filly, sitting in the library with her nose in a thriller novel, wanting to savor the moment of tension before she turned the page.

“Not long after Bushwhacker and Aherrk were married,” Promenade Deck narrated, the setting sun casting strange shadows over his grinning face. “The land was struck by a terrible curse.”

“Namorodo,” River spoke, hissing out the word like acid. Daring turned to see that she had formed a new diorama: an army of thin quadrupedal creatures, their limbs sinewy and ending in curled claws, serpentine manes spilling from their horned heads.

“What are they?” Daring asked.

“Wicked spirits,” Rain said. “They’re similar to your vampires: they sleep during the day in rocks and cliff faces, but during the night, they go out to hunt. You can hear them whistling in the wind; if they catch you, they’ll suck out your insides and turn you into one of them.”

“Effective way to get kids to stay indoors,” Bobby commented, drawing a round of chuckles from the group and causing Phillip’s cheeks to color.

River continued to recite her lesson, forming more figures with her cloud: a layer of black clouds with two figures standing atop them.

Daring recognized them both--the one with the long mane looked just like the totem necklace around her neck--but was still struck by the power that the striped duo presented. The great, mouthless creatures, crowned with lightning, were glaring down at the sinewy figures beneath that were fleeing from them; the cold hatred in their solid white eyes almost chilling to see. Both of them had their wings spread: six massive wings apiece, shaped like eagle’s wings, but like their limbs, turning into faint wisps around the edges.

“Angkakert and Awely-Awely,” she identified them.

“They brought rain to the world, and found that their thunder and lightning could frighten away wicked spirits, including the namorodo,” Rain explained.

“Indeed,” Promenade nodded. “But in Bushwhacker’s time, the land was plagued by namorodo who had allied with dark wizards. Their evil magic, backed up the power of terrible gods from the underworld, prevented rain from coming to the land. Not only did the drought cause shortages of food and blistering heat, but the namorodo were also allowed to run rampant, feasting upon cattle, sheep, and citizens. Someone had to do something. And Bushwhacker was never one to stand by when ponies needed help.

“She and Aherrk set out into the bush in search of the wizards, she with her stockwhip, and he with his waddy: his hunting stick,” Promenade continued. “But a sandstorm sent by their foes caused them to lose their way and they were left exposed in the desert. Mere minutes after the sun went down, they were beset by namorodo! They struck at the pair with their claws, slashing their skin; more than once, they barely managed to fend off one of the monsters just as they were lunging for their neck! They lashed out with their weapons, but the namorodo shrugged off all their blows!

“Finally, as they were fleeing over the endless sands, they found a small oasis, far from their town. And as they approached, a thunderstorm sounded from the distance and the namorodo fled. Bushwhacker and Aherrk sat by the oasis, tending to their wounds, as Aherrk prayed to the spirits for help. And to the surprise of them both, Angkakert and Awely-Awely appeared before them, rising from the water.”

River had formed a new diorama: Aherrk and Bushwhacker staring in amazement as the two great wandjina emerged from the small lake. Their mouthless faces radiated gentle compassion for the two mortals.

“Recognizing the strength of their spirits and conviction, the king and queen of storms blessed Bushwhacker’s stockwhip and Aherrk’s waddy with lightning and thunder, giving them the power to strike down the Namorodo,” Promenade continued, a bright glimmer in his eyes. “Invigorated by the backing of the gods, Bushwhacker and Aherrk strode boldly back into the desert. The namorodo attacked again, but were driven away by the magic weapons. They found the evil wizards and destroyed their ritual site, sending the survivors fleeing deep into the bush. No sooner had they overturned the cauldron in which the foul potion bubbled than clouds rolled in, rain pouring beneath them to refresh the land, lightning striking down the rest of the namorodo. Bushwhacker and Aherrk returned to their town as heroes. They kept the blessed weapons, and legend has it that they placed them in the cave with Bushwhacker’s treasure. There they remain, waiting to be used again.”

Sarcastic applause sounded from the Outbackers. “Wow. That was almost as thrilling as the last hundred times you told that story,” Charlie remarked.

“Oh, you kids can laugh now,” Promenade Deck declared, giving them all a superior look. “But tomorrow morning, you’ll all see.”

“What do you mean?” Daring asked.

“You’ll see, sheila,” Promenade Deck grinned. “In the meantime, there any burgers left?”

“We set some aside for you,” Bobby smiled, leading his brother over to the grill as River returned her clouds to her shed.

Daring watched Promenade trot off, a faint bitter taste of disappointment in her throat; she’d wanted to hear more. “Your uncle’s a hell of a storyteller,” she admitted to Phil.

“He is,” Phillip nodded, leaning back to look up at the stars. “But Bushwhacker stories were always his favorite.”

Daring leaned back and took another draught of the foamy beer, her eyes scanning the twinkling stars over their head, instinctively seeking out the Southern Cross and Scorpio. “You don’t think there’s any chance that that story is true?” she asked. “That there might be a cave with treasure somewhere out there?”

Phillip was silent for a moment. “Ponies have been searching the bush for that cave for years,” he said. “No one’s found it. But then again, I’m sitting next to a mare who made her career finding lost treasures.”

Daring chuckled. “Maybe we should take a crack at it,” she said.

“Of course you’d say that,” Phil sighed.

“You know you love me,” Daring grinned, turning and giving him a boop.

Phillip scrunched up his nose with a frown, then let out a defeated sigh and rolled his eyes. “True, true,” he mumbled, looking back up into the infinite blackness as Daring nestled her head against his shoulder.

Author's Note

Really did not mean for this chapter to go on this long, sorry!

We already know that that legend isn't just a bedtime story, but next week, we'll start into the actual mystery. In the meantime, I hope that there was enough foreshadowing and stories to satisfy you.

Thank you all for 500 views! Make sure to leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Eighteen, Chapter Two: Myths and Legends

An earsplitting crow jolted Daring awake with a grunt and she sat up in the creaky bed, the thin sheets falling away from her form.

“Fuck roosters,” she grumbled, wincing and raising a hoof to block the red-orange light that was streaming through the window. “Fuck sunlight,” she muttered, then winced and clutched her head as a jackhammer started pounding against the inside of her skull, causing the world to tilt wildly like a carnival ride and sending waves of nausea through her body. “And fuck beer!” she finally huffed.

“Must you?” Phillip groaned into the pillow.

“Blame the walking alarm clock, not me,” Daring mumbled, rubbing her temples until she felt well enough to open her eyes and look around.

Phil’s old room was decorated with posters on the wall celebrating jazz bands, with the round face of Cannonball Ambleway smiling at her over the dresser. A stack of sheet music lay in one corner, about half of which was hoofwritten. A desk sat beneath the window where the damnable sunlight was streaming in, the hoof-carved acacia surface covered in chemical burns from old experiments. A few notebooks and college textbooks sat on the bookshelves mounted onto the wall, along with some old toys and figurines. A small circular bark painting of a wandjina was mounted on the wall, looking down onto the bed with a look that displayed tender care despite the lack of mouth and pupils.

Daring found herself smiling at the scene. It was small and cozy, and most of all, it felt like home.

She stood up and tottered over to the door, exiting out into the narrow wood-floored hallway. She stumbled her way to the bathroom and completed her morning ablutions, grabbing a couple aspirin and antacids from the medicine cabinet and gulping them down with a glass of water on her way out. When she returned to the bedroom, Phil was sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes and grumbling.

“When I left for college, one thing I told dad was that I was just glad that I didn’t have to get up at bloody sunrise ever again,” he grunted and snorted, pulling a gray shirt out from his suitcase. “And then I bloody had to fall in love with a morning pony.”

Daring smirked and leaned in, pressing her nose against his. “Well, I’m a good night pony, too,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You’re a bloody pain in my arse sometimes,” Phil grumbled. “You know that, right?”

“At least I use lube. Most of the time,” Daring sniggered.

Phil sighed, then kissed her. “But you’re my pain in the arse,” he admitted.

“Aww. You say the sweetest things,” Daring said, nuzzling him.

The thump of hoofsteps and a yawn announced that Bobby was awake. “Morning,” he grunted from the door, rubbing the five o’clock shadow around his jaw. “You two sleep alright?”

“Yeah, thanks, Dad,” Phil confirmed.

“What do you want for brekkie?” Bobby asked as Rain emerged in her wheelchair.

“Egg toast sound good?” Phil asked Daring.

“Sounds great,” Daring said, rubbing her head, where the pain had dulled to a low throbbing.

They proceeded downstairs to the kitchen and Bobby started throwing bread and eggs onto the stovetop, quickly filling the room with mouth-watering aromas. “You two remember that Promenade said that he had a surprise for you?” Rain asked.

“Yeah, he’s our first stop this morning,” Phillip said, switching on the coffee machine. “But not until after I get some bloody coffee into me.”

“Wonder what he’s got for us,” Daring commented.

“Well, you won’t find out sitting here,” Bobby said. “Best get a move on, anklebiters.”

“And we’re taking the truck this time,” Phillip said. “I am not in any shape for flying.”

Daring stuck her tongue out at him. “Spoilsport,” she said, trying and failing to hide a wince as her hangover headache protested loudly. “But fine. We’ll take the truck.”

“I’m sorry, are you sure you have the right place?” Daring said, staring at the house that they had stopped in front of.

The three-story cottage with white trim sat on a well-trimmed lawn, with two hedges of westringia hedges bordering the sidewalk leading up to the wide porch. Ivy climbed up lattices along the walls, and a polished silver Ponyiac Trotalina Coupe sat in the driveway.

“Uncle Prom was always pretty successful with his money,” Phil replied, hopping down from the cab of the truck and tilting his trilby back, wincing as the sunlight struck his eyes. “Ow.”

“Oh, grow up. This isn’t even in my top ten worst hangovers, and you drank less than I did,” Daring replied, even as she tilted the brim of her pith helmet down to block the sun.

“That says a lot,” Phillip replied.

As they crossed the street and started up the sidewalk, passing in between the short walls of quivering white flowers, Phillip looked around, then turned to Daring. “I gotta warn you,” he said. “Uncle Prom has--”

But he was interrupted by a booming barking. A cream-colored mastiff with brown spots bounded around the corner of the house, tail wagging furiously and drool flying from his dangling tongue as he made a beeline for Daring.

“Oh, no,” Daring just barely managed to say before the dog was upon her, knocking her to the ground like she’d been hit by a car. A car that then proceeded to drool all over her, assaulting her face with licks as it yipped loudly into her ears.

“Off! Get off, you walking shit and drool machine!” Daring shouted, flailing desperately in an attempt to get the dog off her.

“Burney, down!” Phillip shouted at the dog, who immediately jumped off of Daring and bounded up to him, jumping up to cover his face in licks. “Yes, yes, g’day. I missed you, too,” Phillip said, gently shoving the dog off him.

“Down, boy!” Promenade Deck called from the porch as he exited, grinning broadly. Burney gave a short bark and hopped over to his side. “G’day, anklebiters,” the stallion greeted them as he approached. “Sorry, the lad always barks at new ponies, but he’s just really happy to see you. Ready for your surprise?”

“You know I hate unsolved mysteries, Uncle Prom,” Phillip said as Daring got to her hooves, wiping slobber off her face. “Why don’t you just tell us what it is?”

Promenade leaned in closer, grinning conspiratorially. “I found it last week at the Akely-Pip’s bookstore,” he said. “It was just sitting in the box of new books, right there waiting for me!”

“Okay,” Daring rolled her eyes. “I love books as much as any pony, but what’s so special about this book.”

“It wasn’t on the shipping manifest,” Promenade continued. “Akely hadn’t ordered it, didn’t know what it was.”

“So what is it?” Daring pressed.

“I couldn’t be sure at first, so I had to speak to an expert friend of mine,” Promenade continued. “He confirmed everything. Including the message hidden inside. A single symbol written in the corner of each page.”

“Oh, for Faust’s sake, will you just--” Daring started to groan.

“I found it,” Promenade finally declared, ecstasy on his face. “Captain Bushwhacker’s journal! With a message in it leading to her cave!”

Phil and Daring both stared for a long moment of silence. “You’re pulling our tails, Uncle Prom,” Phillip finally said.

“No bull, Phil,” Promenade replied. “It’s the dinky-di. And yes, it’s really got a secret message in it. What else could it be?”

“And you waited until the day after we got here to show it to us?!” Daring shouted, pushing past him and into the house. “Where is it?!”

“You picked the right sheila, Phil,” Promenade chuckled, slapping his nephew on the back as they proceeded inside the house, leaving Burney outside, thumping his tail against the ground.

The wide, oak-paneled hallway with plush red carpeting had several doorways on both sides, opening into a dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows, a living room with a grand piano that had a massive model ship sitting on top of it, and a study with bookshelves and sea charts on every wall. Daring had naturally gravitated to the study and was studying the books through the glass doors, practically salivating as she read the titles.

“Why did you never tell me about your uncle before?” she said to Phil when they entered.

“You never asked,” Phillip replied.

“Okay, ponies, let’s get to cracking!” Promenade said, heading over to a framed chart of the Aushaylian coastal waters mounted on the wall. He pulled it aside to reveal a safe mounted into the wall. He carefully dialed in the combination, and the safe unlocked with a click. “Behold!” he declared, swinging the door open with a flourish.

The other two ponies stared blankly. “Uh…Uncle Prom?” Phillip said, rubbing his forehead. “Where’s the journal?”

Promenade whirled around and stared into the safe in horror, his eyes taking in the empty vault. “Where is it?!” he cried, plunging his hoof into the safe and running it over the metal walls, as if thinking the journal was hiding somewhere and he just couldn’t see it. “No, no, I, I don’t understand! It was here! It was here last night when I put it away! It couldn’t, I don’t--!”

Phil and Daring shared a glance and Daring immediately headed out of the room. Phil trotted over to grab his uncle by the shoulders, shaking him to get his attention.

“Uncle Prom, focus,” he ordered. “Take a deep breath.” He waited for Promenade’s hyperventilating to slow to a more normal pace, then looked him in the eyes. “What happened last night? When did you last see it?”

“I...I got home after the party, let Burney in after the cleaner, and started reading the journal,” Promenade breathed, sitting down and rubbing his temples as he tried to remember. “Around midnight, I put it in the safe and locked it, and went to bed. I’m sure I locked it, I’m sure…”

“Was anypony else here?” Phillip pressed.

“No, no, I was alone. Just me and Burney,” Promenade shook his head.

“Who else knows about the journal?” Phillip continued.

“Akely-Pip, the bookstore owner who gave it to me,” Promenade rattled off. “And my friend Yellow Page, a local historian. He’s been helping me verify the journal’s veracity and transcribe it, and Akely-Pip was helping me with any clues or references.” He frowned and shook his head, gesturing at two piles of typewritten letters on the desk, each stack dedicated to a different messenger. “Of course, they fight like cats and dogs, so I can’t have them in the house at the same time.”

“When were they last here?” Phillip asked.

“Yellow was here yesterday morning,” Promenade replied. “We were doing some more transcriptions and he was helping me work on the code. Akely hasn’t been here for three days.” He glanced back into the safe. “Shit, and all my notes were in there, too!”

“Okay, calm down,” Phillip soothed.

Daring reentered. “There’s no sign of a forced entry anywhere,” she reported.

“And I have the best burglar alarm in the city,” Promenade added, nodding to a well-worn dog bed in the corner. “If anypony came in, Burney’s barking would’ve woken me up.”

“And the rest of the neighborhood,” Daring muttered to herself.

“Who else has a key to this place?” Phillip asked.

“Just your father and my hired cleaner, Spic Span, a new guy; Yellow Page suggested him to me,” Promenade answered. “But Spic does not know about the safe, nor the journal.”

“We’ll still need to talk to him, and the others,” Phillip noted, rubbing his forehead. “Need to check the area.”

He began to prowl around the room, scanning the floor for any evidence. Daring gently beckoned Promenade Deck out of the room and into the hallway so he could work.

“This code,” Daring pressed. “Do you remember any of it?”

“Uh…” Promenade tapped his head in thought. “Yes! Yes, I remember one part that we’d decoded. See, the code was a substitution cipher, but the key kept changing every so often, so we had to--”

“The code,” Daring interrupted.

“Sorry, sorry,” Promenade shook his head. “Let me think...yes, I remember now! The first line of the ‘From the laughing fire, chase the spring solstice crow to where the rocks weep, and…and, and, and…’” He tapped his head a few more times, grimacing, then snarled. “Damn!”

“We’ll work on that,” Daring said, patting him on the shoulder. “We at least know where they’re going.”

“Safe wasn’t broken into,” Phillip said as he exited the room, sweeping the hallway floors with his eyes. “But I can’t find any evidence here.” He scowled at the carpeting. “Uh...yeah. Some dirt here. Think it’s…” He grunted and shook his head. “Fucking beer, I’m supposed to be on bloody vacation...Uncle Prom, did that cleaner come in last night?”

“Yeah, yeah, he came in while I was at the party,” Promenade nodded. “He was gone by the time I came back. Did a bloody amazing job, too, like always.”

“Right, right, and this definitely isn’t from out front,” Phillip mumbled. “Ugh...came in from back…two tracks here, definitely...definitely a right hind hoof there...” Noting the wide distance between the two faint tracks, he proceeded down the hall to the back door and exited into the yard, still scanning the ground.

The backyard featured a narrow, winding concrete pathway that led from the door to the red picket fence that enclosed the perimeter, separating the property from the street. Patches of flowers stood in the grass like rainbow-colored ships in a sea of green. Phillip paused to study his landscape, wincing as the sunlight burned his eyes, then started slowly walking along the edge of the yard.

“Fuck, no hoofprints,” he muttered to himself. He reached the gate, scowling at the lack of a lock on the latch. “Dammit, always told you about that damn lock,” he grumbled, looking up and down the sidewalk. “Nothing. Fucking nothing,” he finally declared, turning around and heading back inside.

“Anything?” Daring asked. Phillip shook his head. “Damn,” she grunted.

A knock sounded at the door, prompting everypony to look up. Promenade hustled over to the door and opened it to reveal a tall parchment gray unicorn with a light blonde mane and the cutie mark of a legal notebook.

“Oh, g’day,” the stallion greeted them, idly petting Burney on the head as he licked his hoof. “You must be Phillip Finder and Daring Do.”

“Sorry, Yellow, this isn’t a good time,” Promenade said, gently ushering him back.

“Why, what happened?” Yellow Page asked, looking bewildered.

“When was the last time you were here?” Phillip pressed him as he advanced on the stallion.

“Uh...day before yesterday,” Yellow Page stammered, blinking rapidly. “I would’ve come down yesterday, but I knew Prom was going to be at the party, and besides, the cleaner was coming in and there were some things I wanted to point out to him.”

“Did you tell anypony else about the journal?” Phillip continued.

“Er, no,” Yellow replied, his eyes narrowing as he started to recover himself. “Promenade and I both knew the importance of keeping this secret; there would absolutely be thieves out for Bushwhacker and Aherrk’s treasure. Why--?” His eyes widened in horror. “No!”

“Somepony snuck in here last night,” Phillip stated. “Somepony who knew about the journal and where the safe was.”

“Well, it wasn’t bloody me!” Yellow Page protested, his face a mask of shock. “I was home all last night: my wife can attest to that! And I would never steal it! This discovery should be shared with the nation, with the world!”

“Hmm,” Phillip scowled. “If not you, who would want the journal?”

“Anypony who believes in the treasure,” Yellow mused. “As a matter of fact…” He turned around with a scowl. “Akely,” he growled as he leaped onto a waiting blue motorcycle.

“Where are you going?!” Promenade called.

“Akely will know who took it!” Yellow called as he turned the bike around and headed west with a roar and a cloud of foul-smelling smoke.

“Oh, for Faust’s sake,” Daring groaned. “Phil, you stay here and see if Uncle Prom remembers anything else or if you can find anything. I’ll go make sure he doesn’t kill her.”

She spread her wings and took off after the bike, grimacing as her pounding head and squirming stomach both let out waves of protest. “Oww, fucking beer!” she snarled as she took off.

“You sure you can find out who took it?” Promenade anxiously asked his nephew.

“We’ll find it, Uncle Prom,” Phillip promised, petting Burney. “One way or another. Now, how about you give me Spic Span’s number?”

Yellow Page stopped in front of a small bookstore that sat on the sidewalk, bats and jack-o’-lanterns sitting in the window, watching passerby with their silly grins.

“Okay, what are you doing?” Daring demanded, landing next to him.

“Akely has been searching for the treasure on and off for years,” Yellow growled. “Spent half her life running around the Outback until she fell into a ravine and busted her leg. She knows every treasure hunter on the island. I bet anything that she was the one behind it!”

Before Daring could stop him, he burst into the store. The small Aborigineigh mare behind the counter looked up.

“Where’s the journal, you little sneak?” Yellow Page snapped at the mare.

“What’re you talking about?” Akely-Pip cried, her eyes wide with alarm.

“You wanted it for yourself, we all know it!” Yellow shouted, causing the two ponies perusing the shelves to look up in surprise. “You got greedy enough to take it all for yourself, you--!”

Daring pushed Yellow Page back with a grunt. “That’s enough! You don’t know she took it and you’re not the detective here.”

“But she--”

“Shut it!” Daring barked. “Now, you’re gonna get outta here and head back home. We’ll get in touch with you later.”

Yellow started to protest, but Daring silenced him with a glare. He huffed and exited, with the two other customers quickly following him out.

“Sorry about that,” Daring sighed to the frightened mare behind the counter as Yellow’s motorcycle roared away. “I’m Daring Do, I’m here for--”

“Oh, yes, you’re Phil’s marefriend,” Akely said, smiling as she recovered herself. “I’m Akely-Pip.” She hopped down from her stool and tottered over to Daring, wincing with every step of the injured leg.

Daring hissed in sympathy when she saw the limb. “That must’ve hurt like hell,” she commiserated.

“Only thing that hurt more was knowing that my days searching the Outback were over,” Akely frowned as she shook Daring’s hoof. “Now, what was Yellow Page pissed about this time?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this,” Daring stated. “Somepony stole the journal and all of Promenade’s notes.”

Akely’s eyes widened with shock and horror. “No! Damn!” She stamped the ground with her front hooves in agitation. “Who do you think did it?”

“We don’t know yet,” Daring replied. “But why would Yellow think it was you?”

Akely scowled. “We...were friends once, but that changed after my accident. The two of us were out on another expedition, but we got lost in a sandstorm. He gave me some bad directions that caused me to fall into that ravine.” She sighed. “I’d been searching the outback since I was a teenager, trying to find Bushwhacker’s treasure, following every lead with Deck’s help: he probably knows the most about Bushwhacker out of anypony in Sydneigh. But with my leg busted, that was all over. I blamed Yellow Page for it for a long time. We argued a lot, and I...said some things that I can’t take back. He hasn’t forgiven me for that.”

Akely took a breath and looked up at Daring. “But I swear to you, I would never steal the journal!” she declared. “Yes, I wanted the journal for myself when Promenade found it in that box, but…” She looked at her leg and let out a bitter huff. “We both agreed that he was better suited for it.” She smiled wanly at Daring. “Of course, I see now who it was really meant for.”

Daring smiled briefly before returning to seriousness. “Where were you last night?”

“I was home with my son,” Akely replied. “We were up late stargazing, he can attest to that.”

Daring nodded. “Can you think of anypony else who would want to take the journal?”

“You’d have to know about it first, and myself, Yellow Page, and Promenade Deck were the only ones who knew about it,” Akely-Pip replied. “I know I didn’t tell anypony, and Prom definitely wouldn’t, but Yellow…” She scowled bitterly. “He never was known for indiscretion,” she admitted.

“Hmm,” Daring mused. “So if I wanted to go treasure hunting in the outback, who would I contact?”

“There are plenty of guides who hang around the Billabong, a local bar,” Akely replied. “It’s a major tourist trap, but if you want somepony who knows how the bush, that’s the place to go. And there are plenty of ponies there who want to be the one to find Bushwhacker’s treasure.” She smiled feebly. “Spirits know, Yellow, Promenade, and I spent far too much time there.”

“Okay,” Daring nodded. “One other thing: does ‘From the laughing fire, chase the spring solstice crow to where the rocks weep’ mean anything to you?”

“It does, actually,” the Aborigineigh replied, sitting down. “Prom may be a Bushwhacker expert, but he doesn’t know squat about our legends.” She scoffed and then cleared her throat.

“Anyway, there’s a tale about the Pleiades star cluster: according to my tribe, they were originally the Karatgurk, seven greedy sisters. They alone had the secret of fire, and they carried burning coals on sticks so that they alone could cook the food that they dug out of the ground. One day, Crow saw that the other ponies were freezing at night and had to eat cold food, so he decided to trick the sisters into giving up their coals.

"Crow had some of his snake friends hide in an ant mound and told the sisters that he’d found out that ant larvae were tastier than the yams that they ate. The Karatgurk started digging into the ant mound and were attacked by the snakes. The sisters started hitting the snakes with their sticks with such force that the coals flew off. Crow hid the coals in a kangaroo skin bag and flew to his tribe, giving them the coals and teaching them to make fire. When the Karatgurk discovered the theft, they chased after Crow, but he flew into the night sky. Every night, he taunts the sisters into chasing him again so that they can never steal fire from our people again.”

“And what about the ‘laughing fire?’” Daring asked.

“Hmm...laughing makes me think of a kookaburra,” Akely replied. “You ever hear a kookaburra sing? It sounds like laughing.”

“So the clue is to follow where the Pleiades dip beneath the horizon during the spring solstice from the kookaburra nest…” Daring mused. “Maybe Prom will have some other ideas about that. Where’s the Billabong?”

“Take the second left down this road, then a right at the war memorial,” Akely-Pip told her, pointing out the window. “Keep going straight until you hit the Sydney Tower Eye--that’s the big needle-shaped building--then it’s the second right and it’ll be right in front of you. If you get to the bridge, you missed the turn.”

“Thanks,” Daring nodded. “Mind if I borrow your phone?”

“Go ahead,” Akely-Pip said, gesturing to the phone on the desk.

Daring picked up the phone and told the operator to put her through to Promenade Deck. After a few moments of the line ringing, the phone clicked as it was picked up.

“G’day,” Promenade answered, his voice croaky from fatigue.

“It’s Daring,” Daring said. “Is Phil still there?”

The phone was passed over. “What’s up?” Phillip’s voice spoke into the phone.

“I just went over to Akely’s place,” Daring told him. “She said she was home with her son all last night, and both she and Yellow Page are pointing hooves at each other. She also told me apparently, the best place to find a guide to go treasure hunting is the Billabong.”

“I know it,” Phillip replied. In the background, Daring heard a rapping at the door, accompanied by a chorus of barking from Burmey. “Police are here,” Phillip stated. “I’m going to talk to them and then I’ll meet you there.”

“Got it,” Daring said, then tapped the mouthpiece with her hoof. “Good luck boop!” Chuckling to herself at the unamused silence on the other end, Daring hung up and started to head for the door.

“Daring,” Akely-Pip called as she reached the door. Daring turned around to see a dark shadow passing over the bookmare’s face. “Be careful,” Akely warned her. “Ponies have hunted for Bushwhacker’s treasure for years. Some have proven willing to kill over it.”

“Well, that’s cheerful,” Daring commented. “But thanks for the concern.” With a tip of her pith helmet, Daring exited the bookstore, casting a reluctant look around at the shelves stocked full with books, then spread her wings and took to the warm, sun-kissed air, heading down the street towards her next target...and some aspirin.

Author's Note

And now we finally get to the meat of the mystery! Just a good old classic whodunit with one...curious incident.

I hope that you liked this chapter and are looking forward to more, reader! Please leave a comment to let me know what you think!

Case Eighteen, Chapter Three: Setting Out

The Billabong was right where Akely-Pip said it was, a short brick building with a flashing neon sign attached to the front of it that declared its name to all and sundry. An arrow pointed down, inviting passerby to head down the stairway leading beneath street level.

Daring descended the stairs and pushed her way through the door, sighing as she was instantly greeted by warm air that smelled of alcohol, bar cooking, and the scent of many ponies gathered into one place. Light rock was playing out of a jukebox in the corner, underlining a dozen conversations being held by the tenants that were spread across the entire room, either sitting at the bar or at one of the many tables covered in blue cloth; it all mixed with the clinking of cutlery and bottles and the clacking of billiard balls and the foosball table. The rack behind the bar showed off a variety of expensive liquors and posters on the wall showed off a number of Aushaylia’s tourist attractions.

Daring made her way to the bar, nodding to the lime-colored bartender. “What’ll you have, stranger?” the mare asked her, shaking her orange-yellow mane out of her citrus orange eyes and giving her a beaming smile.

“Strong coffee, aspirin, and information,” Daring replied, taking a seat at one of the velvet stools.

“Morning After special, huh?” the bartender grinned, bending beneath the bar. There came the sound of a coffee machine whirring and liquid pouring, accompanied by the most wonderful smell in the world. Daring let out a small sigh as the wondrous scent of coffee filled her nostrils.

“You think the smell’s bonzer, just wait till you taste it,” the bartender smiled, passing over a couple of white pills that Daring swallowed dry. “What’s your name, sheila?”

“Daring Do,” Daring replied, tipping her pith helmet.

The bartender’s eyes widened. “Fair dinkum?”

“If I’m not, she’s gonna be really upset when she finds out I stole her helmet and ran away to Aushaylia,” Daring grinned.

The bartender laughed. “Bloody ripper to meet you! Name’s Desert Lime, like the fruit.” She nodded to her flanks, upon which was the image of a thorny bush with green fruit hanging from the branches. “You said you wanted information?”

“I understand that there’s a lot of outback guides that hang around here,” Daring said, rubbing her forehead as the headache slowly began to recede.

“Yes, ma’am,” Lime nodded, pulling out a cup of hot coffee from beneath the bar. “With all the tourists who come here, this place is littered with guides looking for tourists to hire them to take them out into the bush for a camping trip.”

“Or to treasure hunt?” Daring asked, taking a sip of the coffee. “Oh, damn, that’s good,” she declared as the hot black liquid trickled down her throat, banishing the remnants of fatigue from her mind.

“A dash of cinnamon and some skim milk does wonders,” Desert Lime winked. “And, yeah, there’s a few drongos who come here thinking that they’re gonna be the one to find Bushwhacker’s legendary treasure and flash some bits at a guide with big promises that they’ll get ten times that when they find the cave. So the guide goes out with them to make sure that the bogan doesn’t get himself killed. They usually come back in a week or so with their heads hanging, waste the rest of their bits on the cheapest coldies they can get, and head home in the morning.”

“You hear of any pony who found Bushwhacker’s journal?” Daring asked, taking another sip of the liquid gold.

Desert Lime threw her head back and laughed melodiously. “Honey, I hear stories like that almost three times a week,” she chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye. “I barely pay attention to it anymore.”

Daring considered her next question as she took another long sip of coffee, allowing the swirling bitterness and sweetness to dance over her tongue. “Well, have you noticed any regulars acting differently? Or anything that stands out?” she asked.

Desert Lime thought for a few moments. “Hmm...now that you mention it, I haven’t seen Sand Snake or Ingwa Wep all day and they left early last night,” she mused.

Night Spider? Charming name, Daring thought. “Who are they?” she asked aloud.

“Two of the best guides in the Billabong, a husband and wife duo,” Lime said. “They both know the bush like the back of their own hooves: spent half of their lives searching for artifacts and treasures to sell. But they’ve been kinda down on their luck recently; they both got busted for starting a brawl at another bar and spent some time in jail. They usually hang around here looking for work, but I heard them saying recently that they needed to get some supplies ready for a big trip, which was weird because I never saw anypony approaching them to get hired.” She nodded. “Yeah, now that I think about it, last night they were both having a flight of Carlpones. They usually only have that before they go out on a trip.”

“You have any idea where they might’ve gone?” Daring asked.

“I did hear Ingwa grumbling to Snake about finding a bloody kookaburra tree,” Lime mused. “That important to you?”

“It is, actually,” Daring declared, a thrill running down her spine at her unbelievable fortune.

The door opened and hoofsteps clopped down the stairs. Daring and Lime both looked up to see a familiar brown stallion in a green vest and gray trilby proceeding through the bar.

“There you are, Phil,” Daring said, waving at him.

“The native son returned home,” Lime chuckled, already grabbing another mug and filling it with rich coffee. “Not often I get to give two celebrities the Morning After special.”

“Thanks,” Phillip nodded gratefully, turning to Daring. “Police are checking the house. Told ‘em all I could, and I managed to speak to Spic Span over the phone; all he told us was that he finished cleaning the place around eight last night, went to clean a few other houses and got home around ten that night. Didn’t know anything about the safe or the journal. You find out anything?”

“Oh, one or two things,” Daring smirked. She briefly recounted her visit with Akely-Pip and what she’d learned about the kookaburra tree and about the two guides that had been hired.

“Those two don’t sound friendly,” Phillip muttered. “But it seems like they’ve got a head start on us. What do they look like?”

“Sand Snake is a green unicorn with sandy yellow hair and the cutie mark of a snake,” Desert Lime told him, placing a mug of fresh coffee onto the counter and sliding it and a couple of aspirin over to him. “Ingwa Wep is an Aborigineigh mare, gray and black with reddish stripes in her mane and tail. Cutie mark of a spider.” She gave Phil a concerned look as he popped the pills into his mouth and chased them down with a long chug of coffee. “Whatever these two did to you, you sure you want to go after them? These two are dangerous hoons, got a long reputation for trouble.”

Phil and Daring both glanced at each other, a black-eyed specter dancing in both of their eyes. “We’ve handled worse,” Phillip replied, sipping more coffee.

“If you say so,” Desert Lime said.

“You know Yellow Page or Akely-Pip?” Phillip asked Lime.

“Yeah, both of them,” Lime nodded with a smile. “Those two have been coming here since before I started here. Haven’t seen either of them in a long time, though.”

“Thanks,” Phillip nodded.

“So what’s the plan now?” Daring asked. “We head out into the bush after these two?”

“We’d need a guide, and supplies,” Phillip said, sipping his coffee as he thought. “Somepony we can trust.”

Desert Lime looked around the bar. “Well, there are a few guides here who’ll take you out there, but most of them are on the expensive side...and not all of them are completely trustworthy,” she added with a grimace.

“Maybe your parents will know somepony,” Daring suggested.

“Maybe,” Phillip nodded. “In any case, we’d best get moving.” He chugged down the last of his coffee and placed the mug and a few bits onto the counter. “Bloody good stuff,” he said to Lime.

“Good luck out there!” Desert Lime called as he and Daring headed for the door.

With a grunt, Phil strapped the sleeping bag tight to his saddlebag. “Been a while since I had to do this,” he admitted, testing the weight of the bag.

“You sure about this?” Bobby asked. “It’s the sandingo migration, after all.”

“This isn’t just about the treasure, dad,” Phillip replied, tossing the saddlebag over his shoulder and strapping it securely to his body. “This is about them stealing from us. Taking what doesn’t belong to them.”

Bobby sighed. “Well, you wouldn’t be who you are if you just let this slide,” he admitted.

“Here, ampa,” Rain declared, approaching on her wheelchair. She handed Phillip a bag stuffed with small brown biscuits with small pieces of coconut embedded into them. “Some Anzacs for your journey.”

“Thanks, ma,” Phillip smiled, tucking the bag into his saddlebag and kissing his mother on the cheek.

“Please be careful, honey,” Rain pleaded, hugging him around the neck.

“We will, mom,” Phillip replied as his father hugged them both.

Phillip proceeded downstairs, where Daring was waiting, having just hung up the phone.

“Okay, the Observatory says that the Pleiades rise from three-hundred-nineteen degrees on the summer solstice,” she said.

“Aces,” Phillip replied. “The Bushwhacker ranch is only a couple hours from here, north of Sydneigh.”

“We still need a guide,” Daring pointed out, pocketing a collection of maps of the Aushaylian bush, a compass, and a thick, slightly tattered green book of fauna that she’d borrowed from Rain’s shelves.

“That won’t come cheap,” Phillip frowned.

“Hey!” River Feather called, entering through the front door. She gestured outside, smiling broadly as she made an announcement in her native tongue.

Phil cocked his head to the side. "Angwenthangw?" he asked. His grandmother replied by gesturing outside.

"She said that there's somepony she wants us to meet," Phil told Daring as they headed outside.

Waiting outside was a pair of Aborigineigh ponies, both of them gray and black with fluffy cloud-white manes, wearing hooded cloaks. The tall bearded stallion’s mane was pulled back into a ponytail, and his cutie mark was a cloud over a drum. The mare’s mane spilled gracefully down to her knees, and her cutie mark was a set of clouds over a river. Both ponies had matching silver earrings with a small blue-green opal hanging from them; the mare on her left ear, the stallion on his right.

“Hello, Phillip Finder, Daring Do,” the mare greeted them in Equestrian, her wrinkled gray eyes twinkling.

“Who are you two?” Daring asked.

“I’m Rolling Thunder,” the stallion introduced himself. “This is my wife, Creek Fog. We’re friends with River and were just dropping by to visit when she told us about your upcoming trip and that you need guides.”

“And you’re volunteering?” Phillip asked.

“We’ve lived out wop wop all our lives, and we know every square foot of the outback,” Creek Fog assured him. River nodded in confirmation.

Phil and Daring considered for a moment. “Well, we appreciate the volunteering, but we don’t have much to pay you--” Phil started to say.

“We don’t need payment,” Creek waved off the protest. “We just want to help you take back the journal and stop these thieves from taking what isn’t theirs.”

“It might be dangerous,” Daring warned.

“We did mention that we’ve lived out in the bush all our lives?” Rolling Thunder smirked. “We’ve dealt with sandingoes, scorpions, spiders, snakes--”

“Snakes?” Daring gulped before quickly clearing her throat and composing herself. “Um, well, it’s also just that you...well…”

“Age doesn’t count for everything, Miss Do,” Creek Fog winked. “I promise you, we can handle ourselves.”

Daring looked up at Phil, who was looking at his grandmother. River Feather was smiling and nodding back at him encouragingly.

“If grandma trusts you, then I do, too,” he declared. “Meet us at Bushwhacker’s ranch.”

“We will,” Creek Fog promised them as both she and her husband bowed slightly. She spotted Rain and Bobby hovering on the front porch, concerned pouts on their faces.

“Don’t worry, you two,” she assured them. “We will bring your children home safe.”

“We will meet you at the ranch,” Rolling Thunder waved to Phil and Daring as he and his wife headed down the lot and disappeared around the bend.

“That’s that, then,” Phillip nodded. “Let’s stop by Uncle Prom’s and the precinct first, and then head for the ranch.”

Shifting to adjust for the weight of her saddlebags, Daring started to spread her wings to take flight but paused. A moment later, she rushed up to Bobby and Rain and hugged them both.

“Be safe,” Rain pleaded, kissing her on the forehead.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Daring replied, tucking her head against Rain’s warm cheek for a moment.

River Feather tottered up to her and patted her on the back reassuringly. She pointed to the totem of Awely-Awely around Daring’s neck and intoned something in a soothing tone.

“‘They will protect you,’” Phillip translated, one hoof seemingly going up to his totem of Angkakert and stroking the little wooden god.

“I sure hope they do,” Daring muttered to herself as she grasped Phil beneath the forelegs and took off.

As soon as Daring landed on the sidewalk in front of Promenade’s mansion once more, Burney immediately launched himself at her again, barking and wagging his tail enthusiastically.

“Down, boy!” Promenade shouted from his front deck, where he was standing and speaking to a constable in a blue uniform with a white and blue striped cap. Burney halted mere inches from Daring and sat down, panting and thumping his tail against the ground, staring expectantly at her.

“Forget it, dog,” she declared.

“Have you managed to find out anything else?” Promenade asked desperately.

“A few things,” Phillip replied, turning to the constable, a sandy yellow unicorn stallion with a pencil-thin mustache the color of seafoam and the cutie mark of a series of hoofprints in a sandy beach. His nametag read “Beach Tracker.” “Detective, the names Sand Snake or Ingwa Wep mean anything to you?”

Beach Tracker grimaced. “Those two,” he grunted. “We’ve long suspected them of selling artifacts that they dig up in the bush to the highest bidder and stealing from some of the native tribes, but we’ve never been able to prove anything. Most we could ever get them for was drunk and disorderly charges and some brawling.”

“Well, whoever stole the journal hired them to go digging,” Daring replied. “We heard it from the Billabong.”

“And judging by those packs, you’re going after them,” Detective Tracker commented, nodding to the saddlebags that the other two wore. “You want a couple of constables to go with you? Those two might be trouble.”

“We’ve handled worse thugs than these two,” Daring grunted.

“You figure out anything else here?” Phillip asked.

“Nothing that you didn’t already figure out, I’m afraid,” Detective Tracker admitted. “But we’ll keep looking. We’re double-checking on Spic Span’s, Yellow Page’s, and Akely-Pip’s alibis.”

“Good,” Phillip nodded.

“You sure you can’t stay and help?” Uncle Prom pleaded. “We could bloody well use the best detectives in Equestria to solve this.”

“We need to get after these wankers,” Phillip replied. “Won’t take long, and we can help once we get back.”

“Do you even have guides?” Promenade asked.

“Grandma introduced us to a couple friends of hers,” Phillip assured him. “They’ll meet us at Bushwhacker’s ranch.”

“Speaking of which,” Daring cut in. “You know if Bushwhacker had a tree on her property? One that kookaburras would nest in?”

“Of course,” Promenade nodded. “An illawarra fire tree on the northwestern corner of their ranch. I believe it’s still there, with several of their original birdhouses still nailed to it.” His eyes brightened with realization. “Oh, of course! The laughing fire! Why didn’t I think of that?” He paused for a beat. “But that’s only just one clue.”

“Wep and Sand don’t have too big a headstart on us: just one night, at most,” Daring replied. “Once we catch up to them, we’ll take the journal ourselves and go on to get the treasure.”

“You mean we’ll bring them back to Sydneigh first, then go after the treasure,” Phillip replied with a frown. “Can’t go stomping through the bush while dragging two other ponies behind us.”

“Oh, fine,” Daring pouted. “But we’re definitely going after the treasure. I am not passing up a chance like this.”

Phillip rolled his eyes but gave a genuine, if weary, smile. “Of course you’d say that,” he admitted. “And I love you for it.”

Daring chuckled and booped him on the nose. “Dork. C’mon, we’d best get a move on.”

“Be careful, you two,” Promenade called after them. “The bush is not kind to the unprepared.”

“You remember who you’re talking to, Uncle Prom?” Phillip replied with what he hoped was not an obviously fake smile as Daring took him beneath the foreleg and headed north.

“That’s the place,” Phillip declared, pointing. Daring paused in midair to admire the property beneath them, letting out an admiring whistle.

The Bushwhacker Cattle Station sprawled across nearly a thousand acres of red desert sand, all enclosed by a split-rail fence. A green sign next to the entrance declared that the cattle ranch was a historical site and had been made into a museum in 1896. The main ranch house was a sprawling two-story edifice in blue and white, with great open porches on the front and back; smaller houses that once held employee housing, a smithy, butcher’s shop, storage, a general store, and a bar. Cattle and chickens were milling about in a couple of small pens, tended to by uniformed workers.

Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog were waiting for them at the entrance to the ranch, both of them with saddlebags filled with gear. “Hello again,” Rolling greeted them with a smile.

“I’d love to come back and visit this place when this is over,” Daring sighed, casting a gaze over the cattle station, trying to drink up the colors and sounds and smells of living history.

“First stop once we get back,” Phillip smiled. “But right now, we’ve got a tree to find.”

“So what’s an...illawarra fire tree?” Daring asked as the four proceeded through the gate and up the well-worn path.

“You’ll know when you see it,” Creek Fog assured her with a smile.

“We’re heading for the northwest corner of the property, right?” Rolling Fog asked.

“Right,” Phillip confirmed, spotting a nearby attendant in a red and blue shirt. “Oi, there a kookaburra tree around here somewhere?”

“Oh, yes, it’s right over here,” the young mare smiled, beckoning them on. She led them past the butcher’s shop and one of the cattle pens, the grazing occupants lowing as they passed.

After a few minutes of walking and passing through another passageway in the gate, Daring spotted a vivid red standing out against the blue sky, instantly drawing her eye. “I’m guessing that’s a flame tree,” she commented.

“You’d be right,” the attendant told them. “In Aborigineigh legends, the flame tree was born from burning coals when the Aborigineigh first discovered fire. Aherrk supposedly chose this location for his farm because he had a dream about this very tree.”

Daring tilted her pith helmet back to admire the tree as they approached. The illawarra flame tree had a surprisingly thin trunk with serpentine branches. The leaves were all a bright scarlet, gathered in round clumps; bell-shaped seeds of the same color dangled beneath them.

As they approached, a loud chattering sounded from one of the upper branches, quickly turning into a hooting noise that sounded like cackling laughter. “Oh, sounds like one of our friends wants to say hi!” the museum guide smiled, extending a foreleg.

A crest-headed bird with a white body and light brown feathers with aqua accents fluttered down from the tree and landed on her forelegs, giving another little chirp.

Daring quickly plucked the borrowed fauna book from her saddlebag and flipped to the marked page, which featured a picture of a male kookaburra. “Oh, wow, she’s a lot bigger than I thought she’d be. And for once, I don’t mean that sarcastically,” she commented.

“This is Chatter,” the mare smiled, pulling a pouch out of her pocket. “Her family has been living in that tree for generations. Here, give her some of this.”

Daring took the offered pouch and opened it up to find it full of small insects. Shaking some out onto her hoof, she offered it to Chatter. The kookaburra cocked her head to the side, then quickly scooped up the proffered meal.

“Oh, she likes you,” Creek Fog beamed.

“Losing time here,” Phillip pointed out.

“Right, sorry,” Daring nodded, handing the feed pouch back to the attendant and pulling out her compass.

“Why, where are you going?” the mare asked in confusion.

“Treasure hunting,” Daring grinned, pointing at their new heading. “C’mon, everypony!”

The four set out across the red desert sands, leaving the confused attendant standing there with Chatter on her foreleg. The kookaburra let out a whoop as they left.

“Goodbye, my friend,” Rolling Thunder waved as he followed his wife and two clients towards the treasure.

They trotted across the desert, with Daring occasionally pausing to reorient themselves with her compass and map.

“Okay, that’s Chef’s Fairy Pyramid,” Daring declared, pointing at the clustering reddish-brown stone spires before them. The setting sun behind the stone structures cast them in glorious color, shadows dancing across the rough surfaces.

“Maybe these are the rocks that weep?” Phillip suggested.

“I doubt it,” Daring replied, turning to their guides. “You two have any ideas?”

“There’s a river in this direction,” Rolling Thunder pointed out. “Perhaps we’ll find what we’re looking for there.”

“Good idea,” Daring nodded, folding up the map and pocketing it. “C’mon, let’s keep going.”

“You seem quite at home out here,” Creek Fog commented with a smile.

“I’ve found treasures in caves, deserts, and tundras,” Daring smirked. “This is nothing new. And honestly, most of them don’t have riddles leading to them.”

“So nothing at all like Compass Rose or Hayana Pones?” Fog teased.

“Well, we do all go after ancient artifacts and fight bad guys,” Daring admitted. “Speaking of which, I wonder if those weapons are real.”

“There’s always some truth in legends,” Rolling Thunder replied, giving his wife a small smile.

“I dunno,” Daring shrugged. “I’ve seen some pretty powerful magical artifacts, like the Amulet of Ina’yk or the Ring of H’eylr, but thinking that a god blessed an ordinary whip and a club is a bit out there.”

“Magic can be applied to almost anything,” Creek Fog replied, nodding to the totem around Daring’s neck. “All it takes is summoning and channeling the correct energy. Even those necklaces of yours carry a little bit of magic within them, ready to be directed.”

Daring frowned in contemplation and ran a hoof over the little idol. She could indeed feel a small cold tingle within the wood, like she was holding a little bit of rain cloud.

For a moment, she remembered dark tunnels beneath a red sky, and her heart pounded as she ran from things that slithered after her. Her breath hitched and a shudder ran down her spine.

“Are you okay?” Creek asked, stepping forward and raising her hoof as if to catch Daring.

Daring shook her head and refocused, breathing slow and deep. Five second inhale. Pause. Five second exhale. Pause. It’s okay. You’re okay.

“I’m good,” she nodded, noticing that the two stallions had also paused in concern. “C’mon, let’s keep going.”

They proceeded through the desert, leaving the hoodoos behind them. The sun started to fall beneath the horizon as they proceeded and a cool wind rustled across the sands as stars began to swirl through the indigo sky, and the four turned on flashlights to illuminate their path.

A distant howl sounded from over the rolling hills, a raspy cry that sounded like sandpaper being run over piano strings, and everypony froze for a moment. “What’s that?” Daring asked, trying and failing to categorize the sound.

“Sandingo,” Phillip hissed, his ears twitching back and forth as he stared in the direction of the chilling sound.

They all stood frozen for a few moments, but no other sound came. “It’s moving on,” Creek Fog stated with a relieved sigh, allowing them all to relax.

“Look, there are the sisters,” Rolling Thunder declared, pointing behind them. Indeed, a cluster of seven blue stars roughly shaped like a sideways cross were slowly sliding above the horizon.

“Still chasing that crow,” the elder stallion shook his head. “You’d think that after almost a thousand years, they’d have gotten the message.”

“Few can see past their own pride, my love,” Creek Fog smirked.

“I hear water,” Phillip declared, raising a hoof.

Indeed, there was the sound of water trickling over rocks up ahead. The light of their torches revealed the clear waters of a river just ahead of them, running through fallen logs and rocks.

“Wait,” Phillip suddenly hissed, holding up a hoof as he stared at the ground. Daring trotted over to his side and looked down.

Hoofprints stood out against the red sand, shadows marking the outlines in their beams.

Phillip looked around, sniffing the air before his gaze locked to their left, upstream. “Flashlights off,” he ordered. “You two, stay here.”

“Yes,” Rolling Thunder nodded, holding his wife close as the four doused their flashlights.

Phillip set off along the river bank, with Daring following close behind, putting her night-vision contacts into her eyes with a wing as she walked. After a few moments of silently scurrying along, Daring smelled what he had detected: campfire smoke, carried on the night zephyrs.

A faint glow up ahead marked their prey: two ponies in dark blue cloaks, a tall green unicorn and an Aborigineigh mare with scarlet markings in her mane, were sitting on either side of a small campfire, over which they were roasting a long serpent skewered on a stick. Their tent was pitched next to the fire, just barely visible.

Sand Snake was studying something in his hooves: a battered green journal. Daring and Phillip both locked their eyes upon it, growling softly.

“‘Where the rocks weep.’ What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sand was grumbling.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning, when we can see more clearly,” Ingwa Wep replied, patting his hoof. “Besides, the longer we take, the more we can charge from our boss.”

Sand snorted. “‘Boss.’ They don’t really think that they can order us around that easy, do they? We’re the ones doing all the legwork, they just told us how to decode the damn thing.” He took on a mocking tone. “‘The key changes by three to the left after every sixth letter and seven to the right after every eleventh.’ Like we’re stupid or something.”

“Says the stallion who forgot that the sun rises in the east and not the west,” Ingwa grinned.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” Sand pouted.

Ingwa laughed and leaned over to kiss Sand on the cheek. “Nope,” she declared. “Now, c’mon, is that snake done yet? I’m hungry.”

Turning to Phil, Daring started to whisper instructions into his ear. “You wait here, and I’ll go around to--”

The chill wind abruptly whipped up with a sharp whistling sound, sand thrown into the air momentarily glittering like volcanic ashes in the firelight. Their targets both suddenly froze, then whirled around to face them. Across five yards of darkness, their eyes locked.

Daring and Phillip both froze, their hearts dropping into their stomachs as they stared in disbelief.

Sand Snake’s and Ingwa Wep’s eyes were cold, empty black.

Author's Note

Out in the bush, the land of Everything Trying to Kill You.

Sketches of Creek Fog and Rolling Thunder by reader Jade Dawn. Thanks, buddy!

Surprised, reader? Leave a like and a comment if you're looking forward for more!

Case Eighteen, Chapter Four: Red Sands

It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. Phillip stared at the empty portals before him in frozen terror, his heart hammering against his ribs in panic, his breath fast and shallow.

Ingwa Wep and Sand Snake both opened their mouths far wider than possible. Bubbling black filth filled their mouths, tentacles with sucking, leech-like mouths dangling from the scum, dancing in the air as the wind continued to whistle.

“It’s the detectives!” Snake shouted, his voice taking on a disgusting, slimy tone that clung to his syllables.

“Get ‘em!” Ingwa snarled, charging at Daring as she drew a knife from beneath her cloak.

Sand Snake stood up and drew a large-caliber pistol from beneath his cloak, sweeping the sights up to aim at Phillip. Phil shook his head, his muscles unlocking at the sight of the deadly threat; the hallucination faded away and he was suddenly facing an ordinary stallion that was aiming a gun at him.

On instinct alone, Phillip drew and threw his boomerang, the weapon whistling through the air and cracking into Snake's wrist, sending the gun tumbling to the ground. Phillip caught the boomerang as he closed the distance, his heart slowing from a panicked rush to a more controlled rhythm.

With a snarl, Sand drew a machete and charged. He swung towards Phil’s neck, the blade swooshing sharply through the air.

No worries. In a move that he’d practiced a dozen times, Phil stepped aside and ducked just enough that the blade passed over his head by inches, so close he felt the wind from the strike kiss his ear; with a sharp clicking, Phil’s baton was conjured into his hoof and he brought it down like a hammer, the steel smashing onto the foreleg with a crack.

“Aargh! Fuck!” Sand bellowed through gritted teeth as he continued his charge through the pain, ramming his shoulder into Phil’s body. Phil grunted as the blow knocked his hat from his head, dropping and tumbling back through the still-warm sand as the blade whistled through the air where his neck had been a moment later.

A quick glance told him that Daring and Ingwa Wep were both dancing around each other, blade and kusarifundo whipping through the whistling wind, every strike dodged.

She’s fine. Focus on the wanker.

Phil’s hoof darted to the pocket on the back of his vest and he seized the smooth, carved wood. A snap of his wrist sent the weapon spinning through the air, its own whistle adding to the music of the cold wind as he sprinted in.

Sand grunted as he slashed with the machete, the metal clacking against the boomerang in midair and sending it spinning away before he swung again at Phil’s head. Phil ducked, snapping his baton up at the knee of Sand’s left foreleg, which was still supporting him.

His strike hit nothing but air as Sand reared up onto his hind legs, spittle flying from his mouth as he smashed the machete down at Phil. “Shit,” Phillip gasped as he threw himself aside in another roll, the machete thumping into the sand.

“Stay still!” Sand Snake shouted, aiming a kick at Phil as he popped back up. Phil grunted as the blow hammered into his forelegs, but held onto the extended limb, causing Sand to awkwardly hop up and down in place as he fought for balance. Phil swept his hind leg across the sand, striking Sand’s supporting leg and sending the stallion tumbling to the ground with a snarled curse.

Wrapping his body python-like around Sand’s captured leg. Phil laid down sideways on the ground and pulled, thrusting his hips forward. Sand roared in pain as his knee was bent past its normal limit. “Get off, get off!” he yelled, stabbing at his foe with the machete.

Phil deflected the first two strikes with his baton, but the distraction was enough for Snake to wiggle loose of Phil’s grasp and give him a kick in the side, knocking some of the air from Phil's chest. He made to crawl away, only to bellow in agony as Phil’s baton cracked down on the back of his leg.

Panting and grunting, Phillip crawled on top of Sand Snake, seizing his blonde mane and drawing his head back for a strike.

“Jackboot fuck!” Sand snapped, seizing a hoofful of red sand and flinging it back at Phil. Phillip grunted as some of the sand stung at his eyes. Momentarily blinded, he paid for the distraction when an elbow crashed into his side; even with his armored vest, the blow was hard enough to stagger him.

Sand roared like an angry boar and threw Phil off him. Shit, shit, stupid! Phil cursed himself as he did a quick cartwheel back to his hooves.

The machete was already cleaving at his head. Phillip ducked again, but before he could counterattack, the blade whipped back. Fire whipped across his face and Phillip cried out as blood began to run down his cheek, hot and sticky and reeking of copper.

Sand Snake sneered and swung again. Phillip stepped inside the swing, his foreleg smacking against his foe’s as his baton rocketed up, aimed at the unicorn’s crotch.

The blow was halted by Sand seizing Phil’s foreleg in an iron grip. The two stallions struggled back and forth in a lock, the sand stirring around their pounding hooves, each refusing to give any ground or let go of the other’s limb.

Half-laughing and half-growling, Sand tried to tilt the blade down towards Phillip’s head. Phillip leaned back, huffing through his teeth as the starlight reflected off the black blade, inches away from his face. He tightened his grip on Sand’s wrist as his arm began to tremble from the effort.

“Die, you fucking pig!” Sand snarled, the blade inching closer and closer to Phil’s neck as the earth pony tried and failed once more to yank his baton free. In the back of Phil’s mind, he faintly noted that the wind seemed to be whistling even louder, the sand assaulting his exposed limbs like a flurry of horse flies biting at him.

Fuck it! Phillip released the baton and sidestepped, using both forelegs to direct the blade down past him. He locked Sand’s foreleg like a lever, trapping it against his body as he pivoted around, the unicorn cursing as he was pulled along like a dog on a leash.

The horn lit up with a pale green aura, but a knee to the gut forced the air from Snake’s lungs, his horn sparking as the spell was disrupted. He couldn’t even cry out as he stumbled over Phil’s leg, sprawling across the ground. Spitting on sand, he looked up just in time to see Phil’s hoof swinging towards his jaw. The next thing he saw was a lot of stars, accompanied by a blinding pain across his skull.

Panting, Phillip turned from his sprawled foe to Daring, watching as she cast her kusarifundo out like a fishing line, entangling Ingwa’s left foreleg. A tug of war began between the two mares, Ingwa skidding in the dirt as Daring pulled with her wings, grinning victoriously.

Ingwa snarled and her knife flashed up, severing the rope in one slice. “Wahfuck!” Daring cried out in surprise as her balance was stolen from her, sending her rolling back. She looked up just in time to see Ingwa’s knife spinning right at her face.

She ducked too late. A cry of pain rent the air as the blade struck Daring’s right wing, blood running down the limb as the knife bounced off onto the ground.

“Daring!” Phillip cried, rushing forward.

Starlight glimmered off of metal to his left and a heavy whooshing struck his ears. Phillip jumped into an aerial cartwheel just in time: the machete in the pale green aura spun past so close that it chopped off some of his mane.

“Ingwa, we’re outmatched! Let’s go!” Sand Snake barked, still holding Phillip’s stolen baton as he magically pulled his machete, the bloodstained knife, his weapon, and the battered green book back to his hooves.

Ingwa hurried to his side, drawing a pouch from beneath her cloak. Glaring at her charging foes, she drew some black powder from the bag and flung it into the air. Darkness descended over Phillip and Daring like a curtain descending over them, the air suddenly stinking of charcoal.

“Where’d they go?!” Daring shouted, clawing through the enchanted darkness.

Phillip felt motion in front of him and lunged, his hooves wrapping around somepony’s body. “Gotcha!” he declared, driving his target into the ground.

“Idiot, you’ve got me!”

The artificial shadows faded away, starlight piercing the darkness. Phillip had indeed tackled Daring to the ground; she spat sand from her mouth, glaring daggers at him. Both of the mercenaries were long gone.

“Sorry,” Phillip winced, getting off her and looking around for any sign of their prey, but the wind had even covered over their tracks.

“Shit!” Daring cursed, then winced as pain rocketed up her wing, blood dripping down her feathers.

“Let me see it,” Phillip said, bending down next to her. He frowned as he studied the cut in her wrist, the blood that freely ran from it staining her entire wing. “Looks worse than it is,” he reported, taking some disinfectant and gauze out of his vest and treating the wound. “Didn’t hit bone or anything. Probably should limit flying for the time being. Here, I'm going to have to suture it.”

Daring grunted as she stretched the wing out, testing its range of motion. Sure enough, flexing it too far caused waves of pain to run up the muscles, each one drawing a hiss of breath.

"Hold still," Phillip ordered her, taking a set of enchanted suture thread, a needle, and a set of scissors from his first aid kit. He dabbed the injury with a disinfectant wipe and set to work sewing the wound closed.

“Dammit,” Daring relented. She glared at the severed half of her kusarifundo laying uselessly on the ground. “Little bitch,” she growled. “I liked that weapon," she grumbled, wincing as waves of pain ran up her wing, each one thankfully less intense than the last as the pain-relief charms in the medicine and thread set to work.

“Phil! Daring!” Rolling Thunder called as he and his wife hurried up from the distance. “Are you two all right?”

“We’re fine,” Phillip said, finishing treating Daring’s wound and wrapping it up with gauze. “But they got away with my baton, and the journ--”

He paused, catching the smirk on Daring’s face. Daring reached beneath her coat and pulled out a battered green book, the cover barely hanging onto the binding. Scrawled on the first page was Captain J. Bushwhacker.

The other three ponies all gaped in disbelief. “But...how did you…?” Creek Fog stammered.

“I snatched it up after knocking bitchface down,” Daring grinned. “Replaced it with the book your mom gave me. I’ll pay her back for it.”

Phillip beamed and kissed Daring on the lips. “I think she’ll forgive you for that,” he said. “Let’s take a butcher’s at this over dinner.”

Daring glanced at the snake sitting on the abandoned spit. “Uh...maybe something besides reptile,” she suggested.

Creek Fog giggled. “We’ll find something, don’t worry. You two just get to work on that code,” she assured them as she and Rolling Thunder dropped their bags next to the campfire and set off for the river, bringing their knives and some fishing line.

“You remember what he said?” Phillip said, sitting down next to the fire and carefully opening the book to the first yellowed page.

“‘The key changes by three to the left after every sixth letter and seven to the right after every eleventh,’” Daring recited, her eyes wide as she stared at the faded letters from centuries ago, drinking in the mundane tale of Jamie and Aherrk tending to a leaky water tank for their cattle. Sure enough, there was a tiny “R” scrawled in the bottom left corner of the page, just barely distinguishable from the ordinary writing.

“At least we have some of the code already,” Phillip said, taking out a notepad and a pen. “Let’s get to work.”

Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog soon returned bearing several lines of fish, just as Phil and Daring finished transcribing the original code from the journal. As the fish cooked over the fire, the two detectives set to work translating the message, aided by the Aborigineigh.

Finally, they managed to decode the entire message.

“‘From the laughing fire, chase the spring solstice crow to where the rocks weep.’” Daring read out loud. “‘Follow the Rainbow Serpent as she kisses the ground, and find the first key beneath the marked rock. Where our ancestors first sang, find the second key in the pool. At the battlefield, place the key in the rain.’” She paused and frowned at the words. “Well, that’s enigmatic.”

“Purposefully so, I believe,” Creek Fog nodded sagely as she and Rolling Thunder drew a wide circle in the sand around their camp. Once the circumference was complete, both ponies placed their hooves on the drawn circle. With a soft snap, the magic circle closed, a shift in the energy currents that Daring felt in her wings and Phillip felt as a faint tingle in his hooves.

"Is that necessary?" Phillip asked.

"Trust us," Rolling Thunder said. "It'll help keep us all safe tonight."

Phil and Daring shared a glance, then shrugged. “So, you have any idea what any of that means?” Daring asked, opening up her map.

“Well, the Rainbow Serpent kissing the ground probably means we’re supposed to head towards Coober Pedy, a village,” Phillip said, pointing to Daring’s map. "There's a huge mine with opals there."

"That’s where the Rainbow Serpent first touched the land,” Creek Fog said.

“And the place where the rock sings would be Cathedral Gorge,” Phillip continued, pointing to a small village and a marked canyon on Daring’s map. “It’s a stone formation. Great echoes there.”

“The spirits first taught their people the songlines there,” Rolling Thunder noted with a sentimental smile.

“And finally, the battlefield would be Uluru,” Phillip concluded.

"What's Uluru?" Daring asked.

"A massive red rock, miles across," Phillip explained. “According to Aborigineigh mythology, that rock was the site of a battle between good and evil spirits. The rock is red because it was stained in blood.”

“A long and hard battle that was,” Creek Fog said quietly, her eyes momentarily distant.

“Hmm?” Daring asked, looking up.

Creek quickly turned back to the fish cooking on the spit. “Dinner’s ready!” she declared, taking the grilled meat off the spit and setting it onto a roll of canvas that her husband rolled out. The aroma of cooked fish made Phil and Daring’s mouths water.

“So we’re supposed to find two keys and bring them to Uluru,” Daring concluded as they gathered around to eat. “Doesn’t seem too hard. The trick will be finding the place where the rocks weep to start off.”

“We can find that in the morning, when it’s light,” Rolling Thunder said, cutting into a grayling. “Right now, let’s eat.”

“You know, that little code is kind of like a songline,” Creek Fog commented as she chewed on a slice of catfish. “I imagine that Aherrk wrote it himself.”

“How do you make a songline?” Daring asked. “I can understand using landmarks as a way to find your path before you had accurate maps and using stories to remember those landmarks, but who came up with the idea of ‘Hey, I’m gonna make a song about this?’ Do ponies just randomly burst out into song?”

Creek and Thunder both laughed heartily. “A songline is more than just directions,” Creek Fog told her. “It tells the stories of the Dreaming, of the lessons that ponies learned and the adventures that their ancestors and tribal spirits went on.”

“What is the Dreaming?” Daring asked, stabbing a slice of catfish with a spork.

“The Dreaming is hard to put into words,” Rolling Thunder explained, setting his food aside. “In the Dreaming, nothing is, but there is all that can be. Your physics say that a rock sitting at the top of a cliff is full of potential energy: in a way, the Dreaming is full of all potential energy.”

“I think I understand,” Daring nodded pensively.

“The first beings to wake up, to truly exist, were the Rainbow Serpent and other spirits, beings of great energy: beings that some creatures would call gods,” Rolling Thunder continued, slowly drawing in the air with his hooves as if gathering the air into a sphere. “They saw the Earth, what it could be, all the creatures that could walk and swim and fly upon the land, and they wanted to make them real as well. They sang to them, sang to the Earth and the sun and the moon and the stars, sang to the lakes and the rivers and the trees and the creatures. And all of them woke up and began to sing back in joy for being alive.”

“The spirits continue to sing to us, teaching us, guiding us,” Creek Fog added. “If you listen, you can hear the songs of your totem spirit, helping you on your way. And so, a songline is more than just a map through the physical world: it is the evolving music of your life and of your tribe, a bridge between what is and what can be.”

Daring pondered this information for a few moments of silent chewing, then swallowed and sighed. “I see,” she nodded. “I don’t really see how ponies could be comfortable with a god who controls their entire life, but to each their own.”

“The songlines do not control anypony,” Rolling Fog corrected her. “A songline is a harmony between the spirits of the Dreaming and the mortals of the world. The mortals are free to not listen if they choose, and their own choices can change the song. You are not here, the mare you are today, solely because some spirit that you cannot see sang about everything that happened in your life. You are here because of your own choices: but when you learn to quiet your own fear and anger and pride, you can hear your own songline, trying to guide you through your troubles.”

Daring scoffed. “I don’t really think I need some help from a god who doesn’t really care about me,” she grunted, stabbing another piece of fish.

“Why do you think the gods don’t care about you?” Creek Fog asked, her brow furrowing in a look of concern.

Daring sighed. “If gods that created the universe do exist, they’d be so much bigger and more powerful than us, we’d basically be ants to them,” she reasoned. “If ponies don’t even notice ants most of the time, why would the gods even notice us? Especially when they’re part of this Dreaming.”

Creek and Rolling glanced at each other for a moment, faces reflecting soft concern. “You think that just because the gods are bigger than you, that they don’t care?” Creek Fog asked. “Well, part of being a god is being omnipresent, yes?”

“I guess,” Daring shrugged.

“Then if the gods are present everywhere, at all times, then they see everything that we do,” Creek continued. “They see when we cry or hurt ourselves or when we triumph. They hear when we scream or laugh or when we speak unkind words. They feel our pain, our joy, and our fears.” She shook her head. “You ask why they would care? I ask, how could they not care?”

Daring was silent for several long moments as she chewed her food, pretending that she couldn’t see Phillip’s querying glance out of the corner of her eye. “But if the gods really exist, and they really do care,” she finally said, almost more to herself than the guides. “Why can’t they do more? Why can’t they just come down and, I don’t know, zap the bad guys with lightning bolts and...help out the ponies that they’re supposed to protect?”

Rolling and Creek both sighed sadly. “You remember what I said about the gods being energy, being part of the Dreaming?” Rolling asked. “Well...the thing about energy is that it can’t do anything on its own. It has to be channeled, directed through the proper channels at the right time. A rock at the top of the cliff might have the potential to fall, but it can’t without being pushed...and if it is not carefully directed, it could easily smash through somepony’s house or hurt an unfortunate creature in its path. That’s just its nature, the way the laws work, the same as how a fish cannot fly and a bird cannot breathe underwater.”

Daring frowned. “Hard to think that a god has rules that apply to it,” she commented.

“All things have their own nature, their own rules that they must obey by virtue of existing and being of that nature,” Rolling Thunder nodded over his hot mug of tea. “Yes, even the gods, who cannot always be there to help even when they wish they could.” He stared into the dark liquid for a long moment, then sighed sadly. “Even the gods weep, Daring Do,” he admitted quietly, not looking up. “Even the gods weep.”

They finished their meal and evening ablutions in silence save for the crackling of the campfire. “Those thieves might be back,” Rolling Thunder declared as he finished his meal. “I shall take first watch.”

Phillip nodded and proceeded into the stolen tent, throwing out Ingwa and Sand’s sleeping bags and rolling out his and Daring’s. Daring poured some water from her canteen onto her toothbrush and began to brush her teeth over the running water of the river.

As she brushed her teeth, she caught a glimpse of Creek Fog’s reflection looking at her in the star-spangled water. She paused and frowned at the reflection, which quickly turned and looked away. Daring stared at the guide’s image for almost half a minute, half-formed thoughts and questions dancing on her tongue, then finished brushing her teeth and spat the foam into the river, where it was quickly swept away.

“G’night,” she grunted to Creek Fog, who was unrolling her own sleeping bag near the campfire and setting up a simple lean-to to sleep beneath. The two Aborigineigh nodded and murmured good night back to her as Daring ducked into the tent.

The small tent had only enough room for a small battery-powered lantern and a pair of sleeping bags. Phillip was already curled up in his own, with Daring’s waiting for her.

“You okay?” Phillip asked as Daring entered, zipping the tent flap closed behind her.

“I…” Daring sighed and mopped her forehead, taking off her pith helmet and setting it down next to her bags and shirt. She was silent for a beat, her jaw moving as though she were masticating on a question. “Phil?” she asked aloud.

“Hmm?” Phillip asked, raising himself up on one foreleg.

“Do you think that there’s…” She paused to try to form vague emotions into words, stretching a wing out so she could feel the faint shifting of static around her primary feathers. “Something more out there?”

He frowned at her. “Like what?”

“Like…” Daring hesitated at putting the ridiculous possibility into actual words. “Spirits. Gods. Whatever.”

Resting his head on his forelegs, Phillip stared at the floor for several long seconds, and Daring saw in his eyes that he was considering the evidence, going over the facts, coming up with theories. Following his gaze, she saw that he was staring at his totem of Angkakert, no doubt pondering the same things that she was.

Finally, he shook his head. “I once would’ve said no,” he admitted. “But now...now I just don’t know.”

“First time I’ve ever heard you say that,” Daring said.

Phillip turned back to her with a sigh. “Let’s focus on the treasure right now. We can worry about the secrets of the universe later.”

Daring chuckled dryly. “I’ve been rubbing off on you too much.”

Phillip leaned up to kiss her on the lips. “G’night, Daring.”

“G’night, Phil,” Daring said, taking off her totem of Awely-Awely. She studied the little image of the rain goddess, its white eyes staring silently back at her.

With a quiet sigh, she set it aside and laid down beneath the covers, quickly falling asleep.

The sky was red and empty, the only sound she could hear her own rapid breathing. She stepped slowly forward, the clay cold beneath her hoof. She darted her gaze around, looking for any movements in the forest of doors.

“Phil?” Daring called out, her voice sounding tiny in the seemingly infinite expanse. “Phil?!” she cried again.

But there was no response.

Then Daring felt it behind her: cold, wet, stinking breath, tongues that slurped at the cold air. Daring whirled around and froze at the sight of the cold black eyes behind her, the writhing tentacles already reaching for her face…

“WANDJINA!” Daring screamed in desperation.

Thunder shook the air and rain began to pour down from the sky, which was suddenly covered in gray clouds. The water felt comfortably cool on Daring’s back, but the thing writhed and shrieked beneath the onslaught. Before Daring’s eyes, its body began to melt, turning into black, inky goop that ran into the puddles around her hooves.

Daring looked up, closing her eyes to enjoy the rain on her face, the soothing temperature slowing her breathing and pounding heart. She opened her eyes as the forest around her began to dissolve, and she found herself standing on the porch of 221 Honeybee Bakery, looking up at the cloudy sky.

She thought she saw something moving behind the clouds, something large. She should have flinched, but she knew deep in her core that whatever was up there was not something she had to fear. And beneath the soothing pattering of the rain, she could hear singing; a voice that sounded like a didgeridoo, low droning wind that formed words that she could not understand, but that she knew were speaking to her. Just out of her sight, just beyond her hearing, but there. Maybe she could…

The laughter of a kookaburra tore Daring from the dream and she opened her eyes with a soft gasp. She was still in the tent, wrapped up in her sleeping bag. Phil was still asleep next to her, snoring softly.

With a yawn, Daring climbed out of the bag, rubbing her eyes and stretching her wings out, groaning softly as faint ripples of pain ran up from beneath her bandages. “Just a dream,” she grumbled, opening up the tent flap and climbing out into the morning.

A faint layer of mist clung to the red scrub, the distant trees sticking out above the clouds like they too were just waking up and stretching their branches out to welcome the rising sun. Birds were hopping about on the ground, hunting for bugs.

Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog were bathing in the river, washing out their manes and tails. “G’day!” Rolling Thunder greeted her with a wave.

“Morning,” Daring nodded back, bending over by the bank to wash her face and take a long drink of the cool water. As she pulled away from the river, a rainbow trout leaped out of the water before her, its colorful scales briefly catching the sun as it flapped in midair before splashing back into the river.

“What do you want for brekkie?” Creek asked as she climbed out of the river and shook herself off. “I can make hash browns with hay bacon.”

“Sounds great,” Daring said, wandering over to a tree to do her morning business. This completed, she returned to the tent to find that Phil was waking up, sitting up in his bag and yawning.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Daring said, donning her shirt and pith helmet. Beneath it was the Awely-Awely necklace. She stared at the little carving for a moment, then picked it up and put it on, tucking it beneath her shirt. “How’d you sleep?”

“I was dreaming,” Phillip said, shaking his head. “I swear I heard music...it sounded familiar somehow.” He frowned in thought for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “Just a dream,” he grunted, climbing out of his bag and grabbing his shirt.

Daring stared at him for a beat. blinking in mild surprise. “What?” Phillip asked.

Daring shook her head. “Nothing,” she grunted. “C’mon, let’s get some breakfast and get moving.”

Phillip finished getting dressed and he and Daring exited to the smell of cooking hash browns and bacon, steaming over the campfire that their guides had built. After a brief meal and morning ablutions, the group packed their saddlebags.

“What should we do about the tent?” Phillip asked as he swung his saddlebags onto his shoulders. “Don’t have much room for it.”

Daring pondered for a few moments, then smirked. Taking out her pocketknife and clicking the blade open, she pounced upon the canvas and started slashing and hacking with abandon, tearing the tent into ribbons.

When she was finished, she clicked her knife closed and stepped back, nodding in grim satisfaction. “That’s for breaking my kusarifundo,” she declared.

Phillip chuckled and shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he said. “C’mon, let’s find where the rocks weep. And keep your eyes open: those two wankers are out there somewhere.”

They proceeded up the river, following along the bank, looking for any sign of their target or their foes. Finally, after about an hour of trotting, Daring pointed.

“Look at that,” she said. “That set of rocks there. Doesn’t that look like a face?”

The small waterfall did indeed look like a face if viewed from the left, a profile with an angular jaw, a snout, and a single eye that water was pouring out of, as if the stone figure was weeping unashamedly.

“That’s gotta be it,” Daring grinned, taking out her map and compass. “Okay...Coober Pedy...that way!” She pointed to the northwest. “C’mon, let’s go, old-timers!” she cried, bounding over the river.

“Says the only one with wings” Phillip replied, splashing across the river after her as she blew a raspberry back at him. Creek Fog climbed up onto her husband’s back and he carried her over the river, stepping carefully on exposed rocks.

“Okay, we’re looking for a marked rock,” Daring continued. “Everypony spread out and keep your eyes on the ground.”

The four spread out in a line and began walking forward slowly, sweeping their gazes over the red scrub. The day grew hotter as they trotted on, the sun mercilessly blazing down upon them. Sweat ran down the four ponies' manes, and they had to pause frequently to take long drinks from their canteens.

"Anypony see anything?" Daring asked as the sun started to reach its apex.

"Nothing but sand and rocks and scrub," Phillip replied, mopping his forehead.

"Okay, we should stop for lunch," Creek Fog said, looking around and shrugging her shoulders to adjust for her saddlebags. "There's a river near here where we can restock our canteens and maybe find some shade."

"We're probably about halfway to Coober Pedy by now," Rolling Thunder commented, looking around and fanning himself with his hat. "Wish we had time to see the opal mines, that's a sight to hold onto. The most beautiful blue-green you've ever seen in your life."

“So, who’s this Rainbow Serpent and why would they create opals?” Daring asked.

“It was long ago, when the world was first being created,” Creek Fog explained. “Julunggul was one of the first spirits in the Dreaming who awoke. When the earth was first formed, she descended from the sky in a rainbow and when she landed, her colors bled onto the rocks, forming a mine of opals. Her tribe dug up the precious stones and used them to make art and to channel some of her magic to help control the weather.”

“Interesting story,” Daring commented. “But I personally don’t see why anypony would worship a giant--SNAKE!” she screamed, leaping up into the air and clinging to a cloud, her bulging eyes fixed on the serpent slithering through the scrub.

Shaking his head, Phillip bent over to study the reddish-brown serpent with light brown spots running down on its body. The snake paused and stared up at him curiously, sticking its forked tongue out.

“It’s just a children’s python,” he chided, gently shooing it along as Creek and Rolling both tried to stifle their laughter. “Completely harmless. I had one of these as a pet as a kid.”

“Well, I hope you’re not planning on bringing this one home,” Daring scowled at the serpent as it slithered away. Only once she was sure it was gone did she descend back to the ground. “That never happened,” she grumbled at the others.

Before anypony could respond, there came another familiar howl, like sandpaper on piano strings. Only loud, and close. And hungry.

“Oh, no,” Rolling Thunder breathed as they all turned to face the sound. In the distance, Daring could see dust swirling in a churning red cloud, speeding across the ground towards them. More bays and howls sounded from the cloud and Daring saw dark shapes loping within the sand, racing towards them.

“Sandingos!” Rolling Thunder cried.

Author's Note

Now the real Daring Do adventures begin!

This is kinda my take on Australian Aboriginal mythology with the dreaming. My apologies to any Aboriginal people in the audience if they take offense to my interpretation, but it's for a story, and I'm not claiming that it's an attempt to be an accurate take.

I really do hope that the heart-to-heart about deities wasn't too out of place. It's stuff that I do think is important to address at this point, and I feel like those are questions that Phil and Daring would and should be asking after all that they've faced, but it was a real struggle for me to write it.

If you have any thoughts or feedback on it, please leave a comment!

Case Eighteen, Chapter Five: Predators

“Get to shelter!” Creek Fog shouted, sprinting for some nearby trees with gray oblong leaves. The other three hurried after her as the sandstorm bore down upon them, the howling of both the wind and the beasts growing louder with every second.

Daring risked a glance over her shoulder as she flew. The churning mass of dust was bearing down on them like a living wall coming to crush them. And as she watched, three pairs of yellow-green eyes flashed from within the sand, glaring hungrily at the slab of meat before them.

“Faster!” Rolling Thunder shouted, putting on speed.

A dark shape blossomed from the cloud, four legs padding hard against the ground as it gained upon them. The two-foot tall sandingo was reddish-brown in color, its “fur” a rough layer of sand that rippled like muscles as it ran. The glowing eyes set over the snarling mouth full of sharpened rocks as teeth were fixed upon Creek, the slowest of the group.

“Help!” the mare cried as the beast leaped at her, its jaws opening wide to seize her.

A greyscale rainbow streaked through the air and slammed into the sandingo just as its teeth started to snap down upon her. The beast blew apart into a cloud of choking sand that fell to the ground.

“C’mon!” Daring shouted, grabbing Creek’s foreleg and pulling her along, gritting her teeth against the protests of her injured wing. Glancing over her shoulder, Daring watched as the sand floated back into the air, swirling and reforming into a smaller dust cloud. The shining yellow-green eyes blazed from within it, glaring at her with not just hunger, but hatred as it was subsumed by the storm.

Rolling Thunder and Phillip reached the trees and Phillip immediately crouched down to allow Thunder to climb up into the branches. Once the elder was safely above ground, Phil grabbed a low-hanging branch and swung himself up just as Daring and Creek arrived, perching in the higher branches as the sandstorm reached them, engulfing them in a vortex of howling, snarling dust.

“What now?!” Daring called over the wind, pressing her pith helmet down onto her head as the gale threatened to snatch it away. She looked down to see more glowing eyes glaring up beneath them, winking in and out of existence as the storm swirled around.

“Stay hunkered up here!” Rolling Thunder replied. “If they can’t reach us, they’ll just move on!”

“How long will that take?” Daring asked, studying the glaring eyes beneath them.

Rolling Thunder started to answer, but suddenly paused, cocking his head to the side as if listening to a distant noise. Creek did the same, her ear twitching about as she listened.

A few moments later, Phil and Daring both heard the anomalous sound: a strange whistling sound, just beneath the howling, like pipes made of bone.

“No, no, they can’t,” Creek whispered, shaking her head in disbelief, a shadow of fear crossing her face.

“What can’t?” Phillip shouted.

He was answered by a sharp cracking noise as the strong, thick branch he was sitting on suddenly bent sharply. “Shit!” Phillip gasped as he dove for the trunk.

But the branch snapped off before he could reach it, sending him tumbling down with a panicked cry, hooves flailing as he futilely tried to grab something.

“Phil!” Daring screamed, diving to catch him as he fell past her. But the stinging wind rushed at her face, debris scratching at her watering eyes and half-blinding her. She felt Phil’s foreleg for a moment and tried to grasp it in sweaty hooves, but then he struck a branch with a smack and bounced off with a grunt. Warned too late, Daring crashed face-first into the branch, agony splitting her head in two.

Phillip grunted as he crashed onto the ground, his hat tumbling from his head as he rolled back to his hooves.

Instantly, one of the pairs of glowing eyes was upon him, the powerful lupine body forming as it leaped, already reaching out to seize him.

No reason to panic yet. Phil’s body moved of its own accord, sidestepping the attack and bringing his hoof crashing down on the back of the canine’s skull. The head exploded into a cloud of dust and the body tumbled to the ground with a thump.

Hot breath to his left. Phillip threw himself into a back hoofspring, narrowly avoiding another dive from a snarling sandingo. The second beast spun about to glare at Phillip, snapping its teeth and growling.

Panting, spitting out sand that invaded his throat and eyes, Phillip turned to see two more sandingoes stalking towards him, their heads low to the ground as they snarled. The sandingo he had first struck was standing up, its head reforming as it glared viciously at him. The four glowing eyes circled him, knowing that they had him trapped.

A memory surfaced in Phil’s mind: a circle formed of salt, and glowing shapes with scorpion-like tails disappearing into flickers of light.

Stabbing his hoof into the sand, Phillip spun about, drawing a circle into the ground around him. One of the sandingoes, as if realizing that he was trying to defend himself, lunged at him with a snarl.

Phil spat onto the circle and pressed his hoof into it, forcing his will down his limb just as he’d done countless times before with his boomerang: close!

The sandingo’s claws were inches from his face...and then its body exploded into sand as though it slammed into an invisible wall. The other three beasts all backed away, staring in confusion.

Phillip let out a sigh of relief. The enchanted creatures, being held together by magic, couldn’t cross his circle...but now he couldn’t get out easily. And the sandingo that had struck the barrier was already reforming, glowing yellow eyes blazing in bewildered hatred as legs formed beneath the cloud of swirling sand.

But then a greyscale rainbow descended from the sky and snatched him up. The thwarted predators barked and snapped their fangs at his retreating form, but he was already beyond their reach, safe in the branches.

“Told you you needed to lose weight!” Daring breathlessly said next to him, giving him a relieved grin.

“Thanks,” Phillip nodded in relief, looking back down at their jailors. The pack of sandingoes started circling around the base of the tree, snarling in frustration. He frowned as one of them trampled his trilby flat as it placed its forelegs against the trunk.

“You two all right?” Rolling Thunder called.

“We’re fine!” Daring called back. Smirking at the sandingoes, she stuck out her tongue at them. “Sorry, guys, but dinner’s cancelled!” she taunted.

The one that had placed its paws up on the tree glared at her, then crouched. With a bound that carried it almost four feet into the air, it seized one of the lower branches and started to haul itself up.

"Why can they climb trees?!” Daring cried in frustrated disbelief.

“Just get it off!” Phillip shouted as the lupine predator started to reach up towards them.

Both detectives kicked out at it, the sandingo’s head exploding into a cloud as their hooves crashed into it. The beast tumbled off the branch and fell to the ground with a thump, but was instantly swirling back into a cloud. Two more sandingoes were already climbing up after them, with the others barking and snarling.

“Great idea, hiding in a tree!” Daring snapped at their guides, drawing her pistol.

“Better than facing them on the ground!” Rolling Thunder pointed out as Daring opened fire, her bullets smacking into the other two lupines and turning their craniums into powder, causing them to tumble back to the ground.

“There’s gotta be some way to get rid of them!” Daring shouted.

“Water!” Phillip shouted, drawing his own sidearm. “Can’t shapeshift if they’re mud!”

“Great!” Daring called back. “You want me to dump my canteen on--?!”

“There’s a river less than a quarter mile to the southwest!” Creek Fog interrupted, pointing. A moment later, she yelped and pulled her tail out of the way as a sandingo leaped up and snapped at her, flailing in fury as it missed and tumbled out of the branches.

“How am I gonna--” Daring stopped as she remembered a trick that Rainbow Dash had once shown her, a weather pony’s technique for controlling storms and carrying water up from reservoirs. She’d mentioned it took a bit of practice, but…

“I’ll be right back!” she shouted, spreading her wings and taking flight southwest. As she flew, she heard more gunshots behind her and the snarls of the beasts attacking her friends.

Her Awely-Awely totem bounced out from beneath her shirt as she flew, rapping against her chest. Almost subconsciously, she reached up to stroke it with one hoof as she spotted the twisting blue line in the distance. Let’s hope this works, she thought.

Spotting a fortuitously low-hanging lone cloud, Daring flew through it on her way to her target. Pausing above the narrow, winding river, Daring took a breath and spread her wings, taking a moment to feel the static buzzing of pegasus magic dancing over her feathers. A soft chill breathed across her body and she glanced at her wings to find that wisps of clouds were already clinging to them like loose balls of cotton.

Here goes nothing!

She dove down towards the river, spreading her wings wide. A slight tilt of her wings caused her to bank up just above the rippling surface, her wind sending a v-shaped wake over the river. She started to fly in a tight circle, pushing herself faster and faster with every beat of her wings, the wind roaring in her ears. She felt a strange tugging sensation from her wings, as if they were magnetized, pulling towards the river.

She focused on that sensation, trying to will the river to come to her, commanding the wind and water to obey her. Come on, come on! Please!

The water began to churn, then drops broke from the surface and began to float upwards, like rain in reverse. Before her eyes, the water twisted and formed into a swirling tube that lifted from the surface.

“Yeah!” Daring cheered as the waterspout formed, spray dripping onto her smiling face. “Okay, now...this way!”

She started to fly back towards her friends, continuing to fly in circles. With every beat, she willed the waterspout that she’d formed to follow her, to stay together, focusing only on that magnetic attraction between her and the twister. Sure enough, the waterspout began to follow her path. Wherever its circumference started to bulge and swell, she circled around it and quickly smoothed it over. Sweat began to run down her face, mixing with the spray; her right wing screamed in agony with every beat and her bandages were wet with blood from her reopened injury, but she pushed herself faster, gritting her teeth against the pain.

It was only a quarter-mile back, but it felt like she’d traveled across a county by the time the tree came into view. She saw that Phillip, Creek, and Thunder had all climbed up higher into the branches; as she watched, Phillip fired twice more at two of the sandingoes that were climbing up towards them, turning their heads into powder, but another was already crawling up the trunk towards them, staying just out of range of Rolling Thunder’s kicks.

A thrill of panic ran down Daring’s spine at the sight, but she suppressed it, focusing on keeping the waterspout together and following her. Her wings and limbs blazed with pain, feeling as though they might drop off, and her heart was about to pound right out of her chest, but she pushed herself forward. Just a little bit further…

The sandingos turned towards her, pausing and staring in seeming disbelief, some even backing away in uncertainty. The three ponies all looked up at the roaring storm, jaws dropping.

“Special delivery!” Daring yelled and snapped her wings forward. The deluge of water rushed over the tree and its occupants, soaking into the ground. The dingos all howled in pain as they were smothered with water; when the waves cleared, only three of the sandingoes remained, all of them having turned into mud. They moved sluggishly, staring at their browned, waterlogged limbs.

Like a torpedo slicing through the air, Daring rocketed at the two that were in the tree, plowing into them both with one movement, leaving crumbles of mud to tumble harmlessly to the ground. The remaining sandingo started to turn and run, only for Daring to bank around and smash into it as well. The sandstorm died away, leaving only harmless clumps of mud upon the drenched ground.

“Ha!” Daring shouted, shaking off the mud that clung to her as she panted, limbs and wings trembling as they struggled to carry her weight. “Here’s mud in your eye, bastards!”

Phillip jumped down from the tree and hurried over to her as she sagged into his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I just need to lie down for a bit…” Daring mumbled as Creek Fog and Rolling Thunder carefully climbed down from the tree.

“That was incredible!” Rolling Thunder beamed as he and his wife hurried over. “I’ve never seen a single pegasus handle a twister like that!”

“Little trick...I learned from a friend,” Daring smiled through her panting as the two stallions carried her over and laid her down in the shade of the tree that they’d sheltered in. Noting her bloodied bandages, Phillip unwrapped the gauze and took out his suture kit and antiseptic.

“Here, here,” Creek Fog urged, pulling a small bag of anzac biscuits out of her saddlebags and offering them to the exhausted mare. “Eat these, you’ll feel better.”

“Thanks,” Daring mumbled, nibbling at the dessert. She lightly flapped her wings, noting that the light dancing of magic was much fainter now. Her right wing was now practically numb, which she was grateful for, since it meant she couldn’t feel Phillip stabbing her with a needle.

“There,” Phillip nodded as the enchanted thread began to gently pull the wound closed again. He started to rewrap the wing in gauze once it was done.

“Thanks,” Daring smiled, nuzzling his cheek in gratitude.

Something caught her eyes: a particularly large, round rock sitting in the shadow of the tree, drenched by the waterspout. Painted upon it was a wandjina’s face, white eyes staring at her; the image had long faded over time and exposure, but the drawing now stood out against the darker colors of the dampened rock.

“Look, look!” she cried, pointing. She tried to stand up, but her hind legs refused to carry her weight, sending her flopping back to the ground.

Spotting the painted rock, Phillip stood up and trotted over, studying the rock. He picked it up and checked beneath it. “Nothing there, but…” He shook the rock. “That’s too light.” He turned the rock over in his hooves, squinting at it.

“Seam here,” he reported, spotting a thin line running around the circumference of the rock, just barely marked by the water. Gripping the rock in both hooves, he started to twist and shake it like it was a stubborn Rubik’s cube.

With a click, part of the false rock rotated around on a hinge and something fell out of it and into Phil’s hoof: a small rusty red key that tingled in his hoof when he held it. “Got it!” he declared, triumphantly holding it up for the others to see, drawing cheers from the other three. Replacing the rock on the ground, he hustled back to the group.

“Let me see it,” Daring said, eagerly holding her hooves out. Phillip put the key in her hoof and she hungrily studied it, turning it over and over like it was a precious gem.

“It’s real,” she breathed, grinning from ear to ear. “Holy shit, it’s real. We found it.”

“Hang onto that tight,” Rolling Thunder advised.

“Definitely,” Daring said, tucking it into one of the hidden pockets inside her shirt. Swallowing down some water from her canteen, she shook her head. “We need to keep moving, get to Cathedral Gorge,” she declared, trying to stand. “Ingwa and Snake could be catching up…”

Her limbs trembled and sagged like wet noodles, refusing to carry her weight. “Oof!” she grunted as she faceplanted into the sand.

“You need to rest,” Creek scolded.

“No,” Daring grunted, trying to stand up again. “Have to keep moving…”

Phillip sighed and shook his head. “Stubborn wanker,” he grumbled, trotting up and bending down so that Daring flopped over onto his back. “There. You happy now?”

“Much,” Daring replied, wrapping her forelegs around his neck. “You know which way you’re going?”

“I’ve been there a few dozen times. Yes, I know where it is,” Phillip replied, turning to the north.

“Good,” Daring grinned. “Now onward, my valiant steed! We have treasure to find!”

Rolling his eyes, Phillip proceeded forward, with their chuckling guides following. “You’d better put some of those bikkies in my mouth, I’m hungry,” he said.

It took them many more hours of walking through the warm desert, the sky above them turning from crystal blue to dark purple and blue as the sun started to set, before they came close to their target. From the distance, they could see great mountains and dome-shaped stone structures of alternating orange and gray bands rising up over the hills, shadows spreading across the natural sculptures.

“They look like beehives,” Daring commented, having recovered enough of her strength and magic to walk on her own. She stared at a cluster of the strange stones, head cocked in contemplation. From its nest atop one of the stone hives, a rainbow bee-eater cocked her yellow-orange head back at her and flitted her iridescent blue-green wings as she contemplated her visitors.

“This region is called Billingjal, or ‘sand falling away,’ by the Aborigineigh tribes who live here,” Creek Fog said, smiling as she looked over the mountainous region. “Those mountains are called the Bungle Bungle range.”

“We’ll be within sight of the canyons soon,” Rolling Thunder declared, already urging them on. “Just wait till you see it!”

They ascended a pathway that led through the cone-shaped stones over a rise and paused at the top, gaping down at the canyon beneath them.

“Wow,” Daring breathed, drinking in the sight of the bright blue river winding its way through the canyon. The banks of the river were lush with green vegetation, contrasting against the colored bands of stone that formed the canyon walls. Birds flew over the river, flitting up to nests and diving into the water in search of food, their calls echoing off the gorge.

“Cathedral Gorge isn’t far off. This way,” Rolling Thunder beckoned them on.

They trotted over the top of the rise, their elongated shadows stretching out before them as the sun dipped lower and lower to the horizon. As darkness spread over the land, the sound of the wilderness changed as the diurnal animals went back to their dens and nests and the nocturnal animals started to come out to hunt.

A faint rustling and scraping of rock caught Daring’s attention and she swiveled around. A pair of black eyes stared back at her, reflecting the light of her torch.

“Ooh, a short-eared rock wallaby!” Creek Fog cried as the squirrel-like creature bounded off into the distance in search of food.

But Daring kept panning her flashlight across the rocks and scrub, frowning. Phillip also started scanning the landscape around them with his flashlight, eyes narrowed and ears flicking back and forth.

“What is it?” Rolling Thunder asked, pausing.

Phil and Daring just stayed silent for a little while, then shook their heads. “Let’s keep going,” Phillip said, listening to the uneasy tingle on the back of his skull. “And keep your eyes and ears open. Let’s not forget that Snake and Ingwa are still out there.”

They pressed on, ears alert for any unusual sounds amidst the rustling of the bush and the calls of nocturnal animals.

The sun was more than halfway beneath the horizon by the time they descended another path down into the canyon and proceeded along the sandy banks of the river around a bend where the river split into two.

“Welcome to Cathedral Gorge,” Rolling Thunder smiled, gesturing before them.

Daring’s jaw dropped as she stared around them. The light of the setting sun, awakening stars, and a dozen natural torches of pale blue luminescent moss set in basket-like constructions set around the ground revealed a natural amphitheater in reddish-orange stone, the entire natural construction large enough for at least a couple hundred ponies without standing in the large greenish-blue pool that the tributary spilled into. The sloping walls were covered in ancient paintings, many of them having been clearly retouched in recent years. A few tents were set up along the banks of the tributary and campers were milling about on the sand, speaking in hushed, awed tones as they admired the beautiful sight; their voices mixed with the flapping and calling of birds and bats flitting back and forth in search of food or returning to their nests in the rocky crags. The sounds echoed musically off of the curved stone walls.

“Wow,” she breathed, slowly spinning around to take in the view.

“Crikey,” Phillip said in agreement, admiring the painted walls. “Forgot how beautiful it all was, especially at night.”

“What’s this?” Daring asked, prodding at one of the iron baskets that carried the faintly glowing lichen.

“Starmoss,” Creek Fog replied. “A rare plant that grows only in the outback. It absorbs sunlight during the day, then glows during the night as it converts that absorbed sunlight into magic.”

A giggling blue earth pony colt splashed in the green waters of the wide pool, sending ripples through the water that distorted the reflection of the lights.

“Aqua! Don’t go too far, honey,” the colt’s mother, a plump yellow mare with the cutie mark of a loaf of fresh-baked bread and a Baltimare accent, called from the tent that her mustachioed husband was pitching near the bank.

“The poem said that the next key was in the pool,” Daring commented, peering down into the water. The beam of her flashlight revealed several rocks of varying sizes within the water. She sighed in exasperation. “It’ll take hours to check all this.”

“Probably best to try that in the morning after some sleep, yeah?” Rolling Thunder suggested. “C’mon, I’ll pitch the tents for you.”

Daring tried to cover a yawn with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she admitted.

“Good spot here,” Phillip said, gesturing to an open space in the sand.

“Ooh, yes, this is nice,” Rolling Thunder nodded approvingly, casting a gaze over the paintings on the walls around them. The largest diorama was of a beautiful yellow mare with a long, flowing mane the color of the morning sky, her glowing yellow eyes smiling upon the plants that were blossoming around her hooves.

“Yhi, the sun goddess,” Creek Fog explained, gesturing at the mare. “She was the one who helped give most life on Earth their shape and form, spawning many of the plants here.” She giggled to herself. “Of course, she needed some practice first. That’s how we got the platypus!”

As they started pitching the tent, Daring looked over the rest of the images decorating the walls, illuminated by the growing starlight and the glow of the starmoss torches. Her eyes focused upon another diorama near them. This one featured a group of Aborigineigh working amongst a field of crops beneath a starry sky, while black, skeletal beings with long, wispy manes stalked them from a nearby line of trees.

“Namorodo?” she asked, pointing to the bony shapes.

“Indeed,” Creek Fog nodded. “No one quite knows where they came from, but they’re as old as the Earth, or nearly. It’s long believed that they came from some forgotten corner of the Dreaming; thankfully, there's very few of them left. Most died of starvation years ago when we ponies learned to protect ourselves from them. As a child, I was always told that if I was out at night and heard the wind whistling sharply, I should stay very, very still and not make a sound.”

“Why?” Daring asked.

“They’re fast and tough, but the namorodo do not have much of their eyes left,” Creek Fog explained. “They can only really see movement, and they’re blinded by sunlight; you can thank Yhi for using her magic to ensure that.” She smiled and shook her head at the sun goddess’ painting. “If only it didn’t take her so long to figure out how to control the sun.” She frowned. “Or if she could hang onto it instead of…”

Daring paused at the silence. “Instead of what?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Creek Fog smiled.

Daring pondered for a moment. “So why do they whistle?” she asked as they returned to help start a campfire.

“The wind passing through their bones: a sure sign that they’re nearby,” Creek explained, gathering up tinder in the circle of stones. “They also have some magic of their own that they can use to cause trouble, though it can be warded off with the right protective charms and spells.”

“And rain,” Daring adds, watching as Creek ignited the tinder.

Creek puffed on the flames until they were crackling merrily. “Yes,” she nodded. “Angkakert and Awely-Awely can enchant the storm to keep them away."

"Any other weaknesses?" Daring pressed.

Creek thought for a moment, head cocked to one side. "Well, they are tougher than any normal pony--not being technically alive helps--but they can be killed by decapitation. Why do you ask? I thought you didn’t believe in these things.”

Daring shrugged. “I’ve always been curious about other cultures and myths and stuff,” she said in what she hoped was a casual tone, glancing once more at the paintings of the skeletal beasts on the wall.

Creek Fog considered her for a moment as if weighing her response, then shrugged and finished putting up her tent.

The blue colt bounced by again, giggling as he played whatever imaginary game was enthralling him. “Aqua! Stay close, honey!” his mother called again as she and her husband started clearing up after their grilled dinner.

Phillip stared after the colt and shook his head. “Stay close to your parents, kid!” he called as the boy danced off past them.

“Promise me we’re never getting one,” Daring commented to Phillip.

“Agreed,” Phillip said. “Now, what’s for eats?”

“How about some cottage pie?” Rolling Thunder grinned, pulling some enchanted freezer bags filled with a potato, bean, and beef casserole. “I got these made before we set out--”

A sharp whistling sounded through the cavern, echoing through Cathedral Gorge. The starmoss flickered strangely, the blue glow fading as shadows overtook the gorge. Even the stars themselves seemed to dim as a sudden chill seized everypony in the gorge. A few visitors cried out in shock and alarm, looking around to try to find the source of this strange darkness.

Phillip and Daring both snapped upright, hooves half-rising towards their shoulder holsters as their suddenly pounding hearts leaped to their throats. They inhaled sharply, the scent of charcoal assaulting their nostrils.

“They’re here,” Daring hissed, eyes and ears darting about.

Rolling and Creek both glared up at the sky. Rolling barked something in Aborigineigh and instantly the darkness passed, the whistling wind silencing immediately. The tourists slowly relaxed, their confusion fading away as they pushed the abnormal incident from their minds.

“Where are they?” Phillip breathed out, lowering his hoof and trying to banish flickering images of red skies and black eyes from his mind.

A mare shrieked loudly. “Aqua?! Where’s Aqua?!” the Baltimare mare screamed, running wildly about and looking around.

Phillip and Daring looked over to where they’d last seen the colt, just past a starmoss torch at the entrance of the gorge. In the faint light of the magic moss, they could see the small hoofprints of the colt leading towards the entrance to the gorge before suddenly stopping.

Intercepting his trail were two sets of larger, adult hoofprints.

Author's Note

Dun dun dun!

For the record, all of the landmarks in this story are real Outback landmarks, but I don't think that they're close enough that you could walk to them all within a few days.

The Aboriginal mythological beings are all real, too, but information on them (particularly the namorodo) is frustratingly hard to find for me, so I took some artistic licenses.

Hope you enjoyed and are looking forward to more! Be sure to like and comment!

Case Eighteen, Chapter Six: More Than Legend

“Snake and Ingwa,” Phillip confirmed, glaring at the trails that led away into the roving sands. “I recognize those tracks.”

“They took the kid,” Daring growled, glaring into the shifting shadows. “Using him as bait for us.”

“Obviously,” Phillip agreed, his throat suddenly dry.

They turned to Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog, who were both reassuring the distraught parents. Phillip took a breath and trotted over to them.

“We’re going to find your son,” Phillip promised them.

“What took them?” the mare sobbed as her husband tried to pat her on the back. “What took my baby?”

“Just two wankers,” Phillip replied. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him easy. They left an obvious trail.”

Because they want us to follow them.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to follow you?” Rolling Thunder offered.

“Appreciated, but you’d slow us down, and we can’t worry about ourselves and you at the same time,” Phillip replied.

“Be careful,” Rolling Thunder urged. “It’s easy to get lost out there, and there are plenty of hunters roving around.”

But Rolling gave him a deep, meaningful frown, a spark of concern in his dark gray eyes. Clearly, he had come to the same conclusion that he and Daring had.

“We’ll watch our steps,” Phillip nodded.

“We will be praying for you all,” Creek Fog whispered, grasping his hoof as he passed her.

“Thank you,” Phillip said, feeling a strange comfort from her words. The eyes of the watching tourists all tracked him as he walked back to the mouth of the gorge.

He rejoined Daring, who was already hovering above the ground, scanning the sand with her binoculars. “I’ve got their trail,” she reported, repocketing her binoculars and lowering her pith helmet over her eyes. She pointed, her hoof tracking a line of tracks leading along the bank of the river that formed the gorge.

“Then let’s get going,” Phillip grunted, drawing his pistol and checking the cylinder to make sure that all six chambers were loaded.

Drawing her own pistol, Daring took off, flying low over the ground as Phillip trotted after her, keeping astride of their targets’ hoofprints. The distraught parents, Aborigineigh guides, and witnesses all watched them disappear around the bend in the water.

“They’ll find him, honey,” the mustachioed husband whispered, rubbing his wife’s back as she whimpered into his chest. “That’s the two best detectives in Equestria. They’ll find him.”

Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog looked to one another and joined hooves. Closing their eyes, they began to whisper together in their native tongue, voices joining in whispered, venomous tones of quiet fury at the monsters who had harmed a child. Their incantation rolled along the painted walls in a quiet, powerful song that carried itself up into the sky. Within moments, a wall of thin, gray clouds began to roll across the dome, covering the stars like a shield as a distant roll of thunder rumbled angrily.

“Dammit,” Daring growled, glaring at the darkening sky. “C’mon, hurry. If it starts raining, we’ll lose the trail.”

“They crossed the stream here,” Phillip reported, pointing to some smudges in the dirt leading to the bank of the whispering water.

Daring took Phillip beneath his forelegs and carried him over to the other bank, biting back a wince as her right wing protested the additional weight. “There,” Phillip declared, pointing at two more trails of darker hoofprints leading further up the red sand, out through a gap in the canyon walls.

Daring carried Phillip over the gap in the stone walls and they discovered that the hoofprints led out the other side, winding through the beehive-shaped stone structures.

“They’re making it too easy,” Daring growled, lowering Phillip to the ground.

“Keep to the sky,” Phillip instructed her, keeping one eye on the ground before him and the other scanning the shifting shadows. “They’re out here.”

Daring nodded and flew back up into the sky, glaring down at the stones beneath her, cast in a faint greenish tinge through her night vision contacts. An owl flapped past her with a hoot and beneath her, she heard the skittering of various nocturnal animals in search of cover or food.

Predator or prey? Daring asked herself, licking her lips as she continued to search for any sign of their targets.

Phillip abruptly paused and became stock-still, his ears flicking back and forth as he listened. Daring paused, subconsciously holding her breath as she hovered in midair.

There. Just beneath the chittering of bats and flapping of nocturnal wings. The wind was whistling again, distant howls like hungry beasts. Daring felt a shudder run involuntarily down her spine. The low, long baying of the night air almost sounded...angry?

Daring shook her head to refocus. Just the wind. Find the kid and get back to the Gorge.

Phillip glared and pointed to a cave opening beneath a table-shaped rock formation about forty yards ahead. “There,” he said.

Daring landed, then winced and rubbed her bandaged wing, trying to force the ache of protesting limbs back down. Phillip gave her a querying glance, but she replied with a grunt and a nod.

Daring and Phillip crept up to the mouth of the cave, pressing their backs against the corners of the entrance and peeking around. The low-ceilinged tunnel was pitch black, though they could both hear the faint, muffled whimpering of a colt.

Phillip looked at Daring and pumped his foreleg down. Daring nodded and retrieved a small silver sphere from an interior pocket. She shook the sphere slightly, feeling it warm up as the little spark inside began to activate.

One...two...three! She threw the smoke bomb into the mouth of the cave and ducked back behind cover. With a crack of thunder and a bright flash of light, the bomb detonated and smoke began to spill out of the cave. Coughing and choking soon sounded from inside.

Snapping on flashlights, Daring and Phillip charged into the cave, the smoke scratching at their throats with every rapid, shallow breath. The rough walls of the cave were covered in tribal paintings, most of them of the skeletal namorodo stalking animals and Aborigineigh.

“Aqua!” Phillip shouted, his eyes checking every shadow twice.

A little voice in the back of the cave called “Here!” in between coughs. Daring and Phillip sprinted the last few feet around the bend.

Aqua was laying on the stone floor, his hooves bound with rough cord, coughing on the smoke. The wall behind him was adorned with a larger painting of several namorodo surrounding a larger figure: a large white alicorn with three wings and a single eye. His eye, wings, horn, and mane and tail were all made of flame.

Daybreaker? Daring thought for a moment, then mentally slapped herself. Focus on the kid, Daring!

“You’re okay, kid,” she said, bending down to scoop the shivering, coughing colt onto her back, her head panning from side to side in search of their targets, but there was no sign of Ingwa or Snake. “We’re gonna get you out of he--”

The breath was knocked from her as Phillip tackled her to the ground, gesturing violently with one foreleg. Aqua’s cry of pain and shock was muted by the sound of two gunshots and bullets striking the stone wall, immediately returned by a cry of pain as Phillip’s boomerang struck the gun out of their attacker’s hoof.

Hoofsteps pounded down the cave walls. A blade swooshed through the air with a furious bellow. Phillip and Daring both rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the machete blade that Sand Snake was now slashing at Phillip as he lay on the ground.

“Give us the book!” Sand Snake snarled, every strike narrowly missing Phillip as he dodged. “Just give us the book and we’ll let you live!”

“Get back!” Phillip shouted, kicking Sand in the leg to force him away and raising his foreleg, centering the iron sights on his target’s head.

At the same moment, Daring looked up and spotted Ingwa further up the tunnel; the Aborigineigh flinched as the beam of Daring’s flashlight blinded her. With a grin, Daring snapped her sights to her targets’ center mass.

Click. Click.

For a moment, everypony froze, blinking in disbelief. Then Sand Snake sneered and charged at Phillip again, raising his machete again.

Ingwa grunted and something flashed silver. Ducking as Ingwa's throwing knife whistled over her head, Daring kicked Sand Snake in the back, knocking him off-balance and giving Phillip enough time to do a kip-up back to his hooves. “Get the kid out!” Phillip shouted as he seized Sand’s foreleg, snapping a roundhouse into his foe’s thigh. Sand snarled in pain as the blade fell from his grasp.

Daring hesitated for a moment as the two stallions struggled, then grabbed Aqua and threw the colt onto her back, charging for the tunnel entrance.

“No, you don’t!” Ingwa Wep snarled, drawing another throwing knife from her belt and snapping it out, the blade whipping towards her forehead fast as an arrow.

With no room to dodge and not enough time to duck, Daring did the only thing she could: she took her pith helmet off and thrust it forward. She felt the solid thunk as the knife slammed into her hat, the blade piercing through the top of the reinforced material.

A moment later, she bowled into the mare, sending the Aborigineigh tumbling to the ground with a grunt and a curse. Without slowing for a moment, Daring leaped over her prone form and kicked off the stone wall, shrugging to adjust for the weight of the yelping colt on her back. Her flashlight fell off and cracked against the stone floor, but she ran on, sparing only a grunted "Shit!"

Another swoosh gave her a heartbeat’s warning and she ducked just in time to avoid another knife that ricocheted off the wall next to her. “How many of those do you even have?!” she shouted over her shoulder as she sprinted up the tunnel. The sounds and oaths of the melee behind her soon faded away as she hurried outside.

A few moments later, she reemerged into the night air and skidded to a halt, panting and gasping in shock as she was suddenly assaulted by the icy rain that was pouring from the dark clouds that were now directly overhead. She dropped Aqua down onto the ground and quickly bit off the ropes around his limbs.

“Find a place to hide,” she ordered the trembling colt. “I’ll be right ba--”

Something swooshed over her head. Something large and heavy made a sharp whistling noise as it passed. Aqua screamed and flinched, covering his head. “Monster!” he wailed, running away as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Daring looked up and saw a dark shape darting back and forth over the sky, black against the black clouds, too far away and moving too fast to see clearly even with her night vision contacts, but from the brief glimpses she got...it looked like a skeletal pony, flying without wings.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. No. No, that’s not…

It suddenly swooped down towards the colt, bony limbs extended towards him: a high-pitched shriek of wind sounded as it dove.

“Watch out!” Daring screamed and lunged, seizing the colt and pulling him out of the way. She felt the wind rush past her as the thing missed by inches, heard it smack into the ground behind her with a heavy thump.

Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the stony plain; a shriek of pain that sounded like it was being torn out of a slit throat mixed with the responding clap of thunder. Daring glanced over her shoulder and caught a brief glimpse of a skeletal form and a pair of sunken eyes glaring at her through a long, tangled mane.

“Shit!” Daring gasped, holding Aqua to her chest. She spread her wings to take off, only to cry out as a white-hot jolt of pain ran up her injured wing. “Fuck!” Daring cried, diving behind a beehive stone.

The wind shrieked as darkness rushed past her, hooves tramping the ground beneath, so fast that she barely even saw it as she maneuvered around to the other side of the stone, quickly switching off her flashlight to hide. Pulling in rapid breaths through her teeth, she opened up the cylinder of her revolver and stared at what she saw in disbelief.

All six chambers were empty, staring at her mockingly.

How the fu...I know I loaded it!

She dug a hoof into her pocket and gasped as she felt nothing but cloth. Where are my bullets?! she thought in panic, patting herself down as though her spare rounds were hiding somewhere, even though she knew that they could have only been in that pocket.

Another shriek of wind assaulted her ears and suddenly the thing was there, right behind them. She could hear it snarling, every breath rattling as it sniffed the air, its joints cracking as it moved.

Aqua went stone still in her arms, though she could feel his little body shivering against her. Daring remained frozen, listening to the crick...crick...crick of its steps as it came closer.

A shadow in the corner of her gaze. Daring turned her eyes as far to the left as they would go and saw a blurry, dark shape inching forward. The head with its short, stubby horn and long, tangled mane that hung about it like rotted ropes was poking around the corner, twitching from side to side.

Daring held her breath, her heart pounding in her ears like a frantic drum. Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t. Fucking. Move.

Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. The monster shuddered, then threw its head back, its mane falling to cover its face, and screamed at the sky. The noise sounded like pure, condensed pain and rage, setting Daring’s teeth on edge.

Now! Daring darted to another stone beehive and pressed her back against it, panting and clutching the whimpering colt as tight to her as she could. The thing screamed again in frustration and she peeked around the stone edge to see the hazy shape stalking around the stone that she’d been hiding behind before, its insect-like movements so fast and sudden that she couldn’t get a good look at it: it would go from near-stillness to a blur of speed and then still again as fast as an eyeblink.

Daring swallowed, then set the colt down. He looked up at her, his eyes wide; his tears mixed with the rain running down his face.

“Wait here,” Daring whispered into his ear. “When I move, head that way.” She pointed back south, towards the river. “Move from cover to cover. Do you understand?”

Aqua trembled but nodded. Daring stood back up and took a breath as she bent down and grabbed a stone from the ground. She peeked back around the stone to find that the thing was now stalking around in the open plains, head bent low as it sniffed the ground. Thankfully, it was facing the other way.

Daring threw the stone as hard as she could. It soared over her enemy’s head and clattered against the ground a few yards away.

The thing roared again and streaked over to where the stone landed, its head whipping back and forth as it searched for the source of the noise.

“Go!” Daring hissed to Aqua and flew over to another stack of stone, panting and holstering her pistol. Aqua hurried over to another beehive and hid behind it.

Another crack of lightning tore through the sky and the monster screamed in fury. With another blur of shadows, it flew back up into the sky, the hazy shape blending with the clouds overhead. Daring kept her eyes on it, trying to track it as it darted left, then right.

The sky lit up with another bolt of lightning and she saw the wingless form pause, then dart down…

Daring’s heart leaped into her throat as it landed near the shivering colt. Nononono!

“HEY!” she shouted before she could stop herself.

The head whipped around, blindingly fast, and it let out another bellow of fury that sounded like it was coming from the lowest pit of Tartarus. Daring ducked back behind cover as it whipped towards her, the shriek of wind assaulting her ears like a physical blow.

Good job, Daring. You got its attention away from the kid. Now what?

Slow, crackling hoofsteps to her left. Daring sidled slowly to the right, inching around her cover, trying and failing to swallow down her fear. With one icy hoof, she reached up for the knife on her belt and started to draw it: the slow snnnnkt of the metal seemed to echo endlessly in her ears.

The head, its sodden mane covering its face, slowly came around the stone once again. Up close, Daring saw that the beast was shivering and shaking as though from cold, every growling breath coming hard and fast.

With a scream that was more desperation than fixed courage, Daring lunged forward and seized the mane, yanking the head towards her; the hair was slimy and cold in her hoof and smelled like copper, and she would have shuddered in revulsion if she wasn’t busy thrusting the knife into the narrow, bony neck.

The shudder of metal against brittle bone ran up her foreleg with each impact; there was no flesh on the neck, and no blood flowed from the wounds. The monster screamed at her as lightning streaked across the sky and Daring got a good look at its face.

Clumps of rotting flesh clung to the yellowed skull. Rotting teeth, all of them rough and jagged like the remnants of stone knives from ancient civilizations, clung to a dangling jaw bone, only a few sinews connecting it to the cranium. The eyes were so sunken into the skull that all she could see was a pair of faint white glimmers, glowing with rage and hunger.

The namorodo shrieked in response to the booming thunder and it rammed its skull into her chest. Daring felt like she’d been hit with a cannonball: the impact sent her flying back, all the breath whooshing out of her lungs. She hit the ground and rolled for several feet before coming to a stop against a stone wall.

Gasping for air, shuddering in the cold rain, Daring barely saw the black blur before the wind was howling right in her ear. Cold, dead hooves latched around her neck in an unnaturally strong grip, cutting off her attempt to draw in breath. Hot, stinking breath assailed her face and she threw her forelegs up just in time to block the namorodo’s final lunge, pressing them against the bony neck. Her head spun as the namorodo snapped its teeth inches away from her face.

Panic clouded her thoughts as blackness crept in around the edges of her vision, a buzzing growing in her ears. She tried to suck in air, but the painful vise around her neck was too tight. The namorodo, as if sensing weakness, leaned in closer, letting out laughter that sounded like branches creaking in the wind.

NO! In a desperate burst of strength, Daring struck down at one of the bony limbs strangling her, knocking it loose. Gasping in a single breath, she screamed her only hope to the heavens.

“WANDJINA!”

Lightning lit up the sky like the glow of day and thunder roared in triumph, the cool rain embracing her like a comforting hug as the ward in her vest activated. The namorodo released her with a shriek of agony, reeling away from her as though she had burned it. It glared at her for a moment, its shivering pronounced, then fled in a blur, vanishing over the horizon. Daring laid back against the stone, panting and trembling as her head slowly ceased its spinning.

“Daring!”

Daring looked up to see Creek Fog sprinting up towards her, with Aqua borne on her back. “Are you okay?” she asked, helping Daring to her hooves.

“Phil!” Daring gasped, turning back towards the cave entrance.

Rolling Thunder was already helping Phillip stumble out of the cave; Phillip had bruises on his jaw and his forelegs were both covered in cuts, the rain washing the blood down his limbs in red rivulets.

“Snake and Ingwa are gone,” he grunted as Daring hurried over to help him. “They ran out through another tunnel.” He winced and clutched his chest. “Damn, that hurts...is the kid okay?”

Aqua nodded mutely from Creek’s back, clinging to the elder mare’s mane, shivering in the rain.

“We told you to stay at the gorge,” Phillip grunted at the guides.

“You’re welcome,” Rolling Thunder deadpanned back.

Phil just grunted. “Let’s get back to the gorge.”

“Phil, check your pistol,” Daring urged as they started to trot back.

Phillip opened up the cylinder of his .38 and blinked in bewilderment at the empty chambers. “What the bloody hell…” He quickly patted himself down, his scowl deepening as he found no bullets. “I know I had them!”

“Same with me,” Daring told him. “C’mon, let’s just get back to camp before something else happens.”

The glow of the starmoss torches greeted them like old friends as they returned to Cathedral Gorge, assuring them that they were safe here. The rain finally ceased as they approached, the thunder now far in the distance.

“Mama!” Aqua cried, leaping off Creek’s back and hurrying into his weeping mother’s arms. The parents immediately fell upon the group with tearful thanks as the other campers all cheered.

“No worries,” Phillip said, blushing as he tried to squirm out of the mother’s embrace. “We’re just glad the kid’s okay.”

“Here, here,” the mare urged, gesturing them towards her tent. “I’m a nurse, I can help you with those wounds. And you must be starving!”

Daring and Phillip submitted themselves to the grateful family’s ministrations, allowing them to clean and bandage their injuries and feed them warm soup.

“Can’t fault the service,” Daring admitted as they finally headed back to their own tent with a contented sigh. She turned around and looked up at Aqua, who had fallen safely asleep in his father’s arms in the open tent, his breathing slow. She smiled at the sight, returning the mother’s grateful wave.

But a moment later, her eyes caught the glowing white orbs of a wandjina and her smile faded as she remembered the wind whistling through the rain.

Creek and Rolling were tending to the campfire near their tents, both of them whispering to one another. They looked up and smiled as the detectives approached, though their faces fell slightly when they saw Daring.

“Is something wrong?” Creek asked.

Daring started to grunt back that she was fine, then paused. She sat down and stared into the crackling fire. She looked up over the flames at the paintings on the wall. A namorodo stared blankly back at her and she shivered.

“Daring?” Phillip asked, sitting down next to her and taking her hoof.

Daring sighed. “I…” She swallowed and forced herself to speak the words that she knew couldn’t be true. “I saw a namorodo.”

Rolling and Creek both hissed in a breath. Phillip stared at her for a beat, then whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Damn sure. And I bet anything that that thing is what stole our ammo,” Daring nodded, feeling herself starting to shiver despite the warmth of the fire. “I saw its...face.” She gulped. “It almost killed me and the kid,” she added.

Phillip was silent for a long beat, then draped a foreleg around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“You don’t believe me,” Daring mumbled.

“No, I do,” Phillip replied. “I mean, it’s crazy--they’re just mythological monsters--but we’ve already fought one of those, haven’t we?”

Black eyes stared at them from the shadows and an oily voice that was not a voice laughed in their ears. Both of them flinched, hissing in slow breaths.

“But I thought that the rain would’ve scared it off,” Daring mused, remembering how the thing had been shivering in the rain, how it screamed and roared every time lightning struck.

“Perhaps it was a particularly determined one,” Rolling Thunder commented.

“Or a stronger one. Perhaps borrowing strength from something else,” Creek Fog added as she and her husband both exchanged glances.

“It’s just…” Daring swallowed again. “I didn’t want to believe that that’s what it was. I just...couldn’t believe it, even when it was right in front of me. And…”

“What?” Creek Fog pressed, motherly concern etched into her face.

“It’s stupid,” Daring muttered, shaking her head. “But if evil spirits are real...then maybe gods are real, too.”

“Why is it hard for you to accept that gods might be real?” Creek Fog asked, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Habit?”

“I don’t know,” Daring shrugged, taking off her pith helmet and rubbing the back of her head. She took a moment to compose her thoughts, then sighed.

“I never really liked the idea of gods,” she said. “Didn’t like the idea that there was some glowing pony up in the sky controlling my life, telling me what to do. Especially when they didn’t give a damn about me.”

For a moment, she looked down at the hoof that had, until recently, borne the cursed brand.

“But then, this spring and summer, I started realizing that there was...more out there than I thought,” Daring admitted, staring not at the stars, but the empty blackness between the faint, distant lights. “Things that...just didn’t make sense. Things that were alive and angry and weren't supposed to be real. That I didn’t want to believe in, even when they were trying to eat my face.”

She shuddered as she recalled the skittering sound of things that crawled through endless stone corridors, remembering how she could somehow feel them beneath her flesh.

“And it scared me,” she continued. “So I tried to tell myself that there was a rational explanation for it, that it was all just dreams and illusions and freaky magic. But I guess…”

She mopped her face with a long, low exhalation. “It scared me, thinking that there were maybe things bigger than ponies,” she confessed. “That we don’t understand.”

Phillip squeezed her tight for a long moment, then nodded. “I get it,” he said and took a breath.

“I haven’t heard the old stories since I was a kid,” Phillip continued, one hoof going to his totem of Angkakert. “I never gave them much thought when I was growing up. Thought they were just stories. Had other things to worry about. Besides, I can’t believe in something that I can’t see or hear or touch.

“But then I looked into it...Zugzwang’s eyes, and…” He swallowed, his grip briefly tightening around the little carving. “And I saw that it was something that wasn’t a pony. Wasn’t anything that belonged in this world.

“And when I was…” He was silent for several seconds, his shoulders shaking slightly as he gulped down air. “I...remember I was dreaming. I thought I heard something...someone singing to me. I just felt this...peace. Like I was safe.” He blinked. “And that all went away when I woke up. Just a dream." He blinked. "Just a dream," he repeated to himself.

“But it made me think of…” He paused, swallowed, then whispered the name. “Trace. I know he just...died, and that’s it, but...I can’t help but wonder if there is anything...on the other side, I guess. I…” He closed his eyes for a long pause. “I don’t like to think that he’s just gone…” he whispered as if knowing that it sounded stupid.

“So…” He took off his trilby and ran a hoof through his mane. “I’m not sure I can believe in any of that. I’m a detective. Supposed to believe in evidence. But…” He shrugged. “Maybe there is some evidence. But I don’t know what to do with it. What I’m supposed to believe.”

For a long time, there was silence save for the crackling of the fire and the rippling of the water. Phillip and Daring just lay there and held each other, while their guides contemplated them.

Then, Rolling Fog stepped forward.

“You can’t believe in what you can’t see or hear or touch?” he asked. “Tell me, Phillip, if you ground the universe down to the finest dust and put it through a sieve, would you be able to find any trace of justice or goodness or law or order or empathy?”

Phillip rubbed the back of his head. “Well...no,” he admitted.

“And yet you believe in those things,” Rolling pointed out. “Is it so hard to believe that there might be other things out there?”

Phil and Daring just stared at each other for a beat, then Daring frowned. “Yeah, but...how do we know what’s out there?” she asked. “Or if there really is anything out there and we're not just seeing shit? I mean…” She gestured around at the paintings on the wall. “These stories are nice, but they’re just stories.”

“Are they?” Creek Fog smiled. “Are not history books stories as well? Or even witness testimony?”

“Yeah, but those are things that actually happened,” Daring countered. “There’s proof backing it up.”

“Perhaps the proof you’re looking for is a bit less obvious,” Creek suggested.

Daring and Phillip both stared up at the paintings as they pondered their words. Yhi smiled peacefully as she had for centuries, while the wandjina looked down upon them; despite their mouthless countenances, cast in the semi-darkness and enchanted light, they all seemed to share a strange glow of concern.

“No one can give you all of the answers on their own; any teachings are like a hoof pointing at the sky; if you focus on the hoof, you can’t see the stars,” Creek said, pointing up at the dome above them, prompting them to look up to admire the infinity of stars overhead. Daring’s eyes instinctively went to Polaris, and she felt a strange comfort in seeing that little star winking at her from its fixed position in the sky.

“The answers that you’re looking for, you’ll have to find on your own,” Creek continued. She smiled softly at their pensive frowns. “I know that’s not what you want to hear--that you want to hear a simple answer. But unfortunately, faith is never that simple.”

“A lot of things in life aren’t,” Daring sighed despondently.

“But that makes getting them so much the sweeter, I say,” Creek replied.

Phillip yawned. “Bedtime,” Rolling Fog announced, stretching as he stood. “You two had best get some rest, we have a big day tomorrow.”

“Right,” Phillip nodded, standing. “G’night.”

He and Daring trotted over to their tent, eyelids falling heavy as Creek and Thunder began to draw a circle around their encampment once again. As they removed their clothes to climb into their bags, both of them simultaneously started to remove their wandjina totems, then paused. They stared at each other for a beat, then, both of them trying to keep the lingering foolishness from their faces, kept the small necklaces on.

They climbed into their bags and nestled close to one another, Daring tucking her head beneath Phillip’s chin. He kissed her on the head, smiling as she made a soft, appreciative noise in reply.

As he closed his eyes to sleep, Phillip heard Creek Fog outside, softly singing, her voice rolling over the cavernous stones to settle over them like a comforting blanket:

“Fear not this night, you will not go astray,
Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way…”

Before sleep stole up upon him, Phillip felt a strange echo of familiarity in the words. Like he’d heard them before in a dream.

Author's Note

This was a tough chapter for many reasons. For one thing, I had to choreograph a fight with something that Daring couldn't hurt, and for another, the discussion about faith and gods. I worked really hard to try to make that discussion seem in character for them both and based on their own experiences in the past. I still worry that it seems a touch out of place for a story like this, but it is a question that I wanted to address at this point.

Here's the song Creek is singing at the end.

Hope you liked this chapter regardless! Please leave some comments telling me what you thought so I can make any adjustments necessary!

Case Eighteen, Chapter Seven: Uluru

Daring frowned at the stones around her hooves, squinting through the rippling water.

“Anything?” she called out.

“No sign of it,” Phillip replied from a few yards to her left, his head turning from side to side as he searched through the pool. He frowned at the fresh bandages around his forelimbs, water dripping off the resistant material.

“Just see rocks,” Rolling Thunder called out from Daring’s right, where he and his wife were slowly making their way through the pool.

“Keep looking,” she replied, slowly moving through the pool to try to make as few ripples as possible. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

A splash to her left made her look up. Aqua was wandering through the banks of the pool, kicking aside rocks as his head turned from side to side. He ducked his head beneath the surface of the water like a duck and popped back up with a bright red stone with a yellow stripe running across the uneven surface.

“Is ish wahoo ughing fah?” he asked.

“No, but thanks anyway, kid,” Daring smiled.

Aqua spat the rock back into the rock and continued his search. “You don’t need to do this, kid,” Daring told him, smiling despite herself.

“I wanna help!” Aqua chirped, continuing his enthusiastic search. “You’re looking for something important, something that the bad guys wanted. If you find it, that’ll stop them, right?”

Daring found herself chuckling at the child’s enthusiasm and simple logic. “Well, sort of,” she admitted.

“Then I can help!” Aqua replied, returning to his search.

“So can we,” his mother declared as she and her husband climbed into the water themselves.

“No, you don’t--” Phillip started to protest.

“It’s the least we can do,” she waved them off. “Now, what are we looking for?”

“A stone with a wandjina painting on it,” Daring said.

“You mean those white things with no mouths?” Aqua asked. “They’re cool-looking!”

Creek and Thunder both chuckled. “Yes, they are, aren’t they?” Creek smiled.

They searched in relative silence for several long minutes, occasionally picking up an unusual stone for a closer examination but consistently finding themselves disappointed. It was only when the sun was well above the horizon that Aqua finally shouted, “I found it!”

He hoisted up a large round gray rock with a familiar white face painted upon it, just barely visible after years of being in the water.

Phillip trotted over and grasped the rock turning it over in his hooves. After a moment, there was a soft click and the two halves of the rock split apart. A small key, red with rust, tumbled into his hoof.

“Nice eyes, anklebiter,” Phillip smiled to the colt, tousling his mane.

“Yay!” Aqua cheered.

“Stay safe, kid,” Daring grinned at him, plucking one of her feathers and tucking it into his mane. “And stay close to your parents next time, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Aqua chirped, giving her a brief hug as she trotted off.

“Now, off to Uluru!” Daring declared as Phil, Creek Fog, and Rolling Thunder followed her back to the camp to start packing up. “Which, according to the map, should just be…” She stared at the map, then paused, her eyes widening.

“Three full day’s walk from here,” Thunder chuckled.

Daring groaned. “Why couldn’t you three have been born with wings?”

As she started to roll up her sleeping bag, she heard something rattling beneath the cloth. With a grunt of confusion, she lifted the bag aside and stared at what lay beneath.

“Where did those come from?!” she cried aloud, staring at the .38 rounds that lay on the bottom of the tent.

Phillip poked his head in and blinked in bewilderment at the bullets, then lifted his own blanket. “Bulldust,” he muttered in disbelief at the sight of his own bullets on the floor.

“How did that happen?” Daring asked.

“Maybe whatever hex the…” Phillip hesitated for a moment, then spoke the word through a brief grunt. “Namorodo put on our ammo faded last night.”

“I hate magic,” Daring grumbled, repocketing her bullets. “I hate feeling helpless.”

“That’s why we have these,” Phillip stated, reloading his weapon. He snapped the cylinder shut with a click and made sure it spun freely. “Now, let’s get packed up. Long way to Uluru.”

The weather as they walked westward was thankfully pleasant, with a cool breeze flowing down from the north. No sandingoes harassed them, though they did see a wide variety of native fauna on their journey.

As the sun set that night, they set up camp near a small stream. As she washed off her shirt in the slowly-flowing water that reflected the reds and purples of the sky, Daring watched a small cluster of kangaroo in the distance digging among the sand for morsels. One of them lifted up onto its hind legs, her mouse-like head turning towards the visitors in curiosity. A little joey popped its head out from its mother’s pouch, blinking in the waning sunlight.

“Aww,” Daring smiled at the sight.

“No, you can’t have one,” Phillip said with a smile as he filled up his canteen.

Daring stuck her tongue out at him. “Spoilsport.”

“They’d make poor pets,” Rolling Thunder chuckled from his spot next to them where he was washing his and his wife’s cloaks. “They don’t like being cooped up, and with those claws of theirs, they can disembowel ponies with a kick.”

“Cool!” Daring grinned, prompting Phil to sigh and shake his head.

As they continued washing, Daring glanced over at Phillip. "You have any idea on who stole the journal from Uncle Prom's safe?" she asked.

Phillip frowned. "A few ideas," he admitted. "But we'll need to get back to finish investigating." He grimaced and shook his head. "Should've stayed there."

"Yeah," Daring agreed as she wrung her shirt out. "But on the other hoof, that might've given Ingwa and Snake too much of a head start." She glanced around into the shadowy bush. "Wonder where they are now."

"Out there somewhere," Phillip growled, screwing his canteen closed as he glared into the darkness.

A few fish speared out of the river provided them all with a full meal and for a long time after, they simply sat around the campfire, admiring the twinkling stars above them.

“If you look up there, that’s an emu there,” Creek Fog said, pointing up to a cloud of dark nebulae across the center of the Milky Way.

“Where?” Daring asked.

“Her head is right next to the Southern Cross there,” Creek said, tracing out a particularly dark spot of cloud. “And then her body goes down towards Scorpio, do you see it?”

“Uh...yeah, I see it,” Daring nodded.

“She’s the wife of Daramulum,” Creek explained. “He’s a god of shamans who lives in the Moon, overlooking the weather.”

“How did you control the weather originally?” Daring asked. “I mean...are there pegasus Aborigineigh?”

Both their guides laughed heartily. “No, sadly,” Rolling said. “Before the Equestrians came with their pegasi and weather magic, we Aborigineigh had medicine ponies who used their magic to influence the weather.”

“It probably would’ve worked a little better if we could fly, yes,” Creek admitted.

“Speaking of medicine ponies,” Rolling Thunder said, rising. “Let’s take a look at those wounds.”

Daring stretched her wing out and allowed Rolling and Phillip both to change her bandages and study her injury. “Oh, that’s healing well,” Phillip said approvingly, noting how more of the wound was closing to form a pale red scab.

“Bit faster than I expected,” Daring commented, stretching out her limb and smiling in relief as she found that she could stretch it almost completely out without any serious pain, the pain-relief charms in the thread holding.

“Maybe it’s just the outback air,” Creek shrugged.

Phil checked his forelegs, nodding as he found that his cuts were largely fading to red marks. “How’re the ribs?” Daring asked.

“Feel better,” Phillip said, touching his chest where he’d been struck. “Still a bit sore, but I think it’ll be healed by the time we get to Uluru.”

A howl in the distance made them all pause and look up, eyes sweeping over the dark shapes that surrounded them. Phil and Daring both glanced at the circle drawn into the sand around their campsite, both of their thoughts going to the faint tingling of magic that they could feel in either their feathers or the frogs of their hooves.

“It’s too far away,” Rolling Thunder assured them. “We’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Daring asked, trying to banish the images flashing before her eyes of rotting flesh clinging to yellowed bones and hate-filled black eyes glaring at her.

“I’m positive,” Rolling Thunder smiled at her.

“So long as Ingwa and Snake stay away, too,” Phillip grunted, reaching for his .38 and strapping it to his foreleg, double-checking to make sure that all six chambers were loaded and the safety was on. He blinked heavily and attempted to suppress a yawn, with only partial success as Daring checked her weapon as well.

“You’d best get some sleep,” Rolling Thunder urged them. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll stay up for a few hours to watch for trouble,” Creek Fog waved them off.

Phil and Daring both glanced at each other, then shrugged reluctantly and started to head to their tent, mumbling good night. Zipping the tent shut behind them, they stripped off their freshly laundered vests and hats but placed their pistols close to their sleeping bags.

“Is it me, or do a tent and a circle in the sand not feel like enough protection?” Daring asked as she climbed into her sleeping bag. “Give me some armor and solid walls any day."

Phillip grunted in agreement as he laid down. From outside came the sound of Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog singing in their native tongue, the words slowly passing through the air like a warm blanket being draped over the air, comforting in their gentleness.

“We’ll be okay,” Phillip said, taking her hoof and squeezing it, smiling at her in the darkness of their tent.

Ordinarily, Daring would’ve just made some sarcastic comment or asked him how he could be so sure. But tonight, warm in her tent, listening to the Aborigineigh song in harmony with the soft rustle of the wind, she merely smiled softly back and nodded. Still holding hooves, they both closed their eyes.

When Daring and Phil opened their eyes again, they were once more laying on the dew-kissed grass beneath stars that swirled through the purple sky.

“Been a while, Your Highness,” Phillip said, looking up at the sound of hoofsteps from the forest around them.

“Forgive me; I have been busy with other matters,” Luna smiled down upon them as she trotted in from behind a tree. “How goes your journey, adventurers? Your parents have told me of your quest.”

“It’s just like a camping trip,” Daring replied. “Campfire songs, long hikes, and dangerous fauna that wants to kill you.”

Luna tilted her head to the side. “Oh? Is that what’s troubling you tonight?”

Phil and Daring both looked at each other, then sighed.

“We encountered a namorodo,” Phillip said. “An evil spirit from Aborigineigh mythology.”

“I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, even when it was right in front of me,” Daring admitted.

Luna nodded gravely. “I see. Once again, you have faced a monster from legend, something that you didn’t think was supposed to exist.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Daring nodded. She looked up at the swirling stars, peering into the purple void as if it held the answers to her questions.

“Luna…” she finally asked. “What's out there? What's really out there?"

Luna cocked her head to the side for a moment, her expression pensive and full of quiet compassion, then sighed. “The truth is...complicated.”

She pushed her long blue mane out of her face and continued. “Celestia and I have both encountered many things that most creatures would rather not know of, things whose existence defies both proof and understanding: spirits, ghosts, demonic beasts, and yes, even beings that some would call gods,” she said. “Beings both so wondrous and so terrible that I sometimes marvel that my sister and I have retained our sanity." She smiled briefly. "If Celestia were here, I'd believe she'd have a remark about that."

All three ponies chuckled.

“So why don’t you tell ponies?” Phillip asked. “Ponies should know what’s out there. It’s in our nature to want to know.”

“Not all share your curiosity,” Luna replied with a wry smile. “Most creatures would rather that the world fit into whatever box that they have constructed for it. Many will straight up refuse to believe in anything that they have not seen with their own eyes. And others will react violently to anything that interferes with their views. Trust me, I speak from experience," she added bitterly.

“We once attempted to spread the message of the wonders that we had seen, Celestia and I,” Luna continued, frowning. “We told Mother much the same as you: that our ponies deserved to know what was waiting for them on the other side of the veil, to be comforted, to have their questions answered.

"But the more we spoke, the more we learned of our own ignorance," Luna admitted. "We thought that we had solved the secrets of the universe, but were proven wrong many times over. And though some listened to our messages, others responded with suspicion, skepticism, demanding proof we could not provide; some even responded with anger and hatred. And as our words passed from ear to ear, some misinterpreted what we said, either mistakenly or deliberately, and used them to encourage violence and hatred.”

“Typical,” Daring replied bitterly.

“I’ve since learned that there are some things that are best left to faith,” Luna continued. “Each of us has our own path in life. Each of us has their own view of the world, and new things that they are meant to discover.”

“Where have we heard that before?” Daring grumbled, looking up once more at the purple sky, trying to pierce through the void as if it were a curtain that she could pull aside and reveal, once and for all, what was on the other side.

Luna chuckled. “I thought you were an explorer who would enjoy the challenge of discovery,” she said.

Daring frowned for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, you got me there,” she admitted.

“I can assure you of one thing,” Luna told them, spreading her wings to embrace them both. “We cannot know with complete certainty what is out there...or even what awaits us after death,” she added in response to Phillip starting to speak. “But from what I have seen, there are great terrors out there...but also great wonders, and a great, genuine love, waiting for you to welcome it." She paused as she examined their frowns, then sighed. "I know you want more. I know you want proof. And I am sorry that I cannot provide that. All I can tell you is what I have seen, what I do believe, and ask for you to trust me."

“Thank you, Princess,” Phillip sighed, lowering his head and trying to hide his disappointment at not finding any definitive answers.

“You are welcome,” Luna replied. She stood up and spread her wings, lifting off into the sky. “Now, I must take my leave. But fear not; I will not leave you alone.”

More figures emerged from the woods, all of them familiar to Phil and Daring’s eyes.

“Having fun out there?” Bobby grinned.

“Are you two eating enough?” Rain queried, mother concern creased across her face.

“You’re really looking for treasure?” Rainbow Dash asked Daring, her face alight with delight.

“Tell me about Captain Bushwhacker!” Twilight urged, bouncing in place. “I checked the library but there was only one book about her and it was a very basic biography and there wasn’t anything about the treasure, but there’s so much about Aushaylia that I want to know and--”

“Twilight, let them breathe,” Flash chuckled, laying a hoof on her shoulder.

“Can you go anywhere without getting into trouble?” Red asked, shaking his head with a smile.

Chuckling, Phillip and Daring both settled in for a long, pleasant dream.

On midmorning of the third day, Daring spotted their target: a red line just above the horizon directly to their west. “Uluru,” Rolling Thunder confirmed with a nod. “One of the shining gems of the Aborigineigh land.”

“It’s a lot closer than it looks,” Phillip assured her. “We’ll probably reach it by nightfall.”

“You said it was painted red with blood during a battle?” Daring asked as she pocketed her binoculars.

“You remember when I mentioned that during the Creation, the songlines woke up other beings?” Creek Fog said as they trotted across the scrub.

“Yeah,” Daring nodded.

“Some of those were monsters who declared themselves gods, who tried to get the ponies of this world to worship them,” Creek Fog continued, scowling as she spoke. “They tricked other ponies and made alliances with dark creatures such as the namorodo.”

Daring’s mind went back to the dark cave and she recalled the painting of the single-eyed flaming beast grinning down at the skeletal beasts.

“The gods of the Aborigineigh--the wandjina, the rainbow serpent, the sky father, and many others--waged war upon the evil spirits,” Rolling Thunder continued. “Their fight was so great that it spilled out into our world, with blood raining upon the stones here. The good spirits were victorious and chased the false deities out of our land. Uluru was made into a mountain marked with the holy blood, as a place of worship for the Aborigineigh tribes, where the magic that kept the false gods away could be maintained.”

“It hasn’t always worked,” Creek admitted. “The enemy is clever and unrelenting, and they have always managed to find some cracks. But Uluru and its magic still stand.”

“Let’s hope the treasure still stands,” Phillip said as they pressed on.

“What do you think these keys even open?” Daring asked. “They didn’t put locks into the stone, did they?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Creek Fog shrugged.

With brief pauses for rest and lunch, they finally reached Uluru that evening. For a moment, all four of them paused, gaping in awe at the massive red stone before them, colored by the dimming sun. Uluru stretched nearly three thousand feet towards the sky, its bulk almost three miles across from end to end. It seemed to be staring at them, as if judging if they were worthy to approach it.

“Thought there’d be more tourists,” Daring commented, looking around and seeing that they were the only ponies in sight.

“This land was declared sacred years ago,” Rolling Thunder explained. "Not many ponies actually come out here."

“Which we prefer,” Creek Fog commented. “I don’t like the idea of this becoming just another tourist trap.”

“Me neither,” Phillip said.

“Nor me,” Daring agreed, staring up at the massive sacred stone as they approached, weaving through the trees that stood around the perimeter of Uluru like soldiers standing at post. The idea of being one of the only non-Aborigineigh allowed to see this beautiful awesome site sent a thrill up her spine and she stepped forward with a mixture of reverent trepidation and barely controlled excitement.

A low crackle of thunder caused them all to whirl around, spotting a wall of dark gray clouds heading their way from the east, lightning dancing amidst the sheets of rain pouring beneath them.

“Great,” Daring grumbled. “Couldn’t the wandjina have timed that better?”

“Let’s just try to find the treasure and get to shelter before that gets here,” Creek Fog urged them.

They reached the wall of Uluru, beholding the faded paintings of mythological scenes adorning the red stone.

“Okay, we’re looking for the rain,” Daring said. “No points for guessing who that is,” she mumbled, glancing back to the east.

They started to circle the perimeter of the stone, studying the paintings that stared back at them, all with inscrutable expressions on their faded faces. All the while, the rain clouds continued to approach them menacingly, the rumbles of thunder coming louder and louder by the moment as the light began to fade.

“Here,” Daring finally declared, pointing at a large painting of Awely-Awely, the lightning-crowned mare staring into the distance, one hoof extended. Peering more closely at the proffered limb, Daring saw a small crack in the stone. She took the rusty key out of her pocket and stared at it for a moment, extending a wing and brushing her primary feather over the metal. She felt the warm tingle of the magic embedded into the metal.

“Hmmm,” she mused and placed the key into the crack. As soon as the metal touched the stone, she felt the key grow warm and electricity danced across its surface as it glowed pale white-blue, causing her to instinctively draw away with a gasp.

Nothing else happened: the key simply sat in the stone crack, glowing faintly. For a moment, they all stood there in the light rain that was starting to fall from the graying sky.

“Okay, let’s find Angkakert,” Phillip declared.

It turned out that he was only a few feet away from his wife, staring down at them in silent contemplation, the lightning crown around his head now just barely distinct from the red stone. He too was extending his hoof towards the viewers, and there was also a small crack in his hoof.

Phillip pulled his key out of his pocket and started to put it in, then suddenly stopped and whirled around, his ears flicking from side to side.

“What is it?” Rolling Thunder asked as the others all began to scan the surrounding trees, bushes, and rocks, the foliage swaying in the growing wind that brought more and more rain with every moment.

“Thought I heard something,” Phillip growled, pulling out his binoculars and scanning the area as he drew his Filly Detective Special.

Putting in her night vision contacts, Daring squinted out into the shadows, the darkening landscape cast into a pale green. Something moved in the corner of her eye and she whirled around, raising her weapon, but it turned out to be a wallaby that stared at her in curiosity for a moment before hopping off into the distance.

“The key,” Phillip said, passing his key to Creek as he continued to scan the area.

Creek placed the key into the crack. It too began to glow faintly blue in the god’s grasp.

A moment later, that same pale blue glow began to illuminate a crack in the stone, marking out the perimeter of a circular section of rock. The rock in the circle began to fade away like a mirage, revealing a wide tunnel into the interior of Uluru itself.

"How did--?" Daring started to ask.

"Some kind of illusion spell," Creek Fog explained. "Aherrk must have known a good shaman."

“Here, come on!” Rolling Thunder cried, already walking into the stone. Creek Fog disappeared into the tunnel after him.

“You go,” Phillip ordered Daring, still glaring around into the darkness.

Shooting one last glance into the bushes as the rain began to fall in earnest, Daring turned and stepped inside, grunting as she wriggled through the narrow tunnel. “Couldn’t have made the damn tunnel a little bigger?” Daring grumbled to herself as she climbed up a small incline.

Thankfully the tunnel was fairly short and only a moment later, Daring stepped around a corner and into a cave illuminated by Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog’s flashlights. What she saw made her jaw drop down to her knees.

The cave was filled with treasure that glowed in the beams of their flashlights: stacks of golden coins embossed with historical figures from centuries past, sea chests filled with pearls and precious stones, silver and gold bars, and sacred Aborigineigh art: bark paintings, didgeridoo, tribal masks and jewelry, and more. But what instantly drew Daring’s eyes were the old journals and books placed carefully upon natural stone shelves, prominently displayed for the eye to see.

Daring immediately went for the precious books, gently picking up one of them and carefully opening the cover to study the ancient hoofwriting on the yellow pages.

“This...” she breathed, a massive smile crossing her face. “These are Captain Bushwhacker’s notes on Aborigineigh culture.” She clutched the book to her chest and beamed at the others as Phillip entered, gaping in awe at the treasure within. “Pinch me, I’m dreaming!” Daring cried.

“Maybe later,” Phillip said, recovering from his awe to glance back at the door. “Didn’t see anything out there, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

“We’re gonna need some major help getting all of this out of here,” Daring said, looking around at the expanse of treasure. “Hey, what’s this?”

At the very back of the cave were a collection of small chests, their varnish long faded over time. They looked completely unremarkable amongst all the other chests bursting with precious coins and gems, save for one difference: these were the only chests that were locked, secured with chains and padlocks that were anomalously free of rust despite having spent a century in a dark, damp cave. Each chest was a different color: ruby red, diamond blue, emerald green, amber orange, shimmering blue-green, moonstone white, and more.

Daring crouched down and pulled her lockpicks out of her purse’s secret pocket. She placed the disabling gem onto the padlock, then inserted a wrench and her smallest pick into the lock and started carefully feeling around.

“Ouch!” she cried out a moment later, jumping back as the picks suddenly grew red-hot in her grasp. The enchanted gem tumbled off the padlock and the picks fell out of the lock, the ends now melted to slag that dripped onto the stone.

“I don’t understand,” Daring said, staring at her ruined tools. “That gem should’ve disabled any protective enchantment.”

“Maybe that’s just a more powerful spell,” Rolling Thunder said. “You think that that’s where the waddy and the stockwhip are?”

“I’d guess so, too,” Daring nodded as she pulled a small folding prybar out of her vest. She inserted the hooked end into the chain and started tugging.

A moment later, the prybar snapped in half with a great crack that mixed with a clap of thunder from outside, lightning filtering through the tunnel briefly painting the cave walls white. Phillip turned and glared back out the tunnel entrance, his weapon half-raised.

Daring stared at the two halves of the tool in disbelief. “That’s dragon-forged steel!” she cried. “The only thing that can break that is…” She growled to herself. “Magic. Bet the whole box is enchanted. To be unbreakable.”

“A box that can’t be opened isn’t a very good box, is it?” Creek Fog mused.

“True,” she said, scanning the cave once more. “Hello.” She noticed a smaller box next to the locked chests. Inside was only a small piece of parchment and a key on it.

Daring unrolled the parchment and read it aloud. "'The key will open each lock, but only one chest contains the true items. Our legends will show you the way.'" She examined the key next, a small, plain key that was, like the locks, anomalously free of rust. "Ugh," she grimaced when she noted the decoration on the circular head: a coiled, multicolored serpent.

"Okay," Daring Do mused aloud, looking at each chest. "So which one is real?"

The scent of charcoal suddenly assailed their nostrils, but they still had only a heartbeat to react before darkness descended upon the cave like a curtain dropping.

Phil and Daring shoved their guides to the ground as hoofsteps sounded from the tunnel behind them, but the figures that charged in went past them, shoving them aside like bowling pins. Rolling and Creek both yelped as unseen hooves seized them. A gun click echoed against the cave walls.

The darkness faded away a moment later to reveal that the Aborigineigh guides were laying on the floor, staring up in shock at Sand Snake and Ingwa Wep, both of whom were holding blades to their hostages’ throats. Sand Snake was holding his oversized pistol on Phillip and Daring, swiveling the massive barrel from one to the other.

“You’d better figure it out,” Ingwa Wep snarled to them. “Or we’re gonna add a little more blood to Uluru.”

Author's Note

Oh, no! Who could've seen that coming?

That Luna dialogue was a lot of work, and went through a number of rewrites in the past. I was struggling really hard to come up with a way to state the message of "There are some things that you just have to discover for yourself and take on faith, because you can never conclusively prove that they're real." Again, I hope it doesn't come across as too out-of-place or preachy. And I promise, that's the last metaphysical conversation we'll be having for a while! From now, it's just straight-up action and romance!

Tune in next week, and in the meantime, please drop a like and a comment to show your support!

This chapter underwent a minor rewrite on July 27, 2022.

Case Eighteen, Chapter Eight: Stormfront

Daring glared up at Ingwa and Snake. As if sensing her gaze, Snake swiveled the .50 hoofgun over to her and centered the sights over her forehead.

“Don’t try anything,” the stallion snarled, tightening his foreleg around Rolling Thunder’s neck; the Aborigneigh gasped as the machete blade drew blood, the red liquid dripping down the black polished metal.

“Take your pistol out of the holster and toss it onto the ground. Slowly,” Ingwa Wep hissed, crouching atop Creek Fog like a predatory animal, one of her knives at the shivering mare’s throat.

She hesitated for a moment, considering just drawing her sidearm and dropping Sand with one shot to the eye, or throwing out a boomerang; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phillip studying his foes with narrowed eyes, clearly thinking the same things.

The click of the hoofgun's hammer echoed through the cave like a punctuation mark. “Try anything and we’ll kill you and then slit these old fucks’ throats,'' he growled. “Guns on the floor, now!”

With a grunt, Daring pulled out her .38 by the strap as Phillip did the same. She glanced at their revolvers, then at Sand’s larger weapon, which was so large that the barrel was nearly the size of his foreleg.

“His dick is bigger than yours,” she told Sand as she tossed the weapon onto the stone.

Sand glared at her, but Ingwa had to fight down a snicker, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “She’s got a tongue on her, hon,” she sneered at Daring, looking up and down Daring’s body like a predator looks over a wounded mouse. “Maybe you should put it to use on yours, see the difference for herself.”

“She couldn’t compare to you,” Sand replied to his wife, his tone sweet even as his eyes blazed in fury over the sights of his oversized pistol. “Now you two, get up and figure out how to open that box and we’ll consider letting you live.”

“Do it your fucking selves,” Daring snapped back.

“Daring, please stop antagonizing the pony with the gun,” Phillip said coolly, slowly rising to his hooves. Daring stood up as well and the two of them made their way to the locked chest, glaring at Sand Snake all the way.

“We were hired to get those damned weapons above all else, and we’re not lugging that entire box all the way to the Outback,” Sand Snake explained as Phillip bent down next to the lock, picking up the small box with the keys. “Now get that open or we’ll--”

Lightning struck the ground just outside the cave, white light flaring through the darkness as a clap of thunder as cacophonous as an artillery strike seemed to shake the stone walls. Sand Snake and Ingwa Wep both flinched at the sudden light and noise.

As one, Phillip and Daring’s hooves went to their pockets, then snapped out in a move that they’d both performed a hundred times. The boomerangs whistled through the air and struck home with twin cracks of wood against bone, their targets roaring in pain and anger as the knife and the gun skittered across the floor.

Rolling Thunder tugged himself out of Snake’s grasp as Creek Fog tossed Ingwa off her and rolled away. Phil and Daring threw themselves at their foes like torpedoes, limbs and bodies colliding with grunts and oaths.

Growling as his jab broke Sand Snake’s nose, Phillip smashed his foreleg down onto his other arm like an axe brought down upon a firewood bundle. Bone smashed against bone and the machete clattered to the ground, where Phil quickly kicked it out of reach. Tears and blood running down his face, Sand swung wildly at him and missed as Phillip weaved beneath the blow, battering his ribs with his elbows.

“You fucker!” Sand shouted, ramming his hooves down on Phillip’s back like a pile driver. Shooting his hips back, he seized Phillip in a guillotine choke, gripping his own hoof and lifting up. Phillip spluttered as the edge of the bone painfully crushed his throat, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen.

“You like that, asshole?!” Sand shouted, driving his knee into Phil’s chest like a sledgehammer. Phillip gasped as all the air was forced from his lungs, his head spinning as he fought to stay on his feet. He drove forward and tried to ram Sand against the wall, but Sand twisted around, deflecting his attack.

They both stumbled over a chest of coins and tumbled to the ground, the coins clinking musically as they spilled over the tumbling, flailing limbs. After freeing himself with an elbow strike to the gut, Phillip wound up on top of Snake, his back to the stallion’s chest; he attempted to roll away, but the larger stallion seized him in a chokehold.

“Should’ve stayed in Ponyville, tosser!” Sand laughed through his bloody nose, his bloodstained yellow teeth parted in a horrid grin as Phillip futilely struggled.

Phillip grunted as he tried to buck his hips up and wriggle out of the chokehold, his every attempt foiled. Looking up, he got a blurry, dark, upside-down view of Daring and Ingwa fighting in the entry tunnel: Daring, her violet eyes wide with panic, was trying to get to him, but Ingwa was blocking her at every turn, each slash of her knives coming closer and closer to Daring’s skin.

Suddenly, with twin roars of screwed-up courage, Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog both charged. Creek snatched up a carved didgeridoo and swung it at Ingwa like a club while Rolling tried to stomp on Sand Snake’s face.

Sand tried to shift away from Rolling Thunder’s kicks while keeping his hold on his struggling prisoner but received a sharp kick to the side of the head. “Ow! You old fuck!” he barked, swiping at Thunder and forcing him away with a sharp blow to the side of the head.

His iron grasp on Phillip’s neck loosened just a moment. Gasping in a breath, Phillip thrust an elbow into Sand’s chest, drawing a cry of pain as the fragile rib bones snapped, then slithered out of the hold. He rolled out of range, coughing and massaging his burning throat.

“Get back here!” Sand shouted and grabbed at him, only for Thunder to throw himself upon the stallion. “Will you--fucking get off me!” Sand shouted, throwing Thunder off like a rag doll. Thunder crashed into a chest of jewels and tumbled over with a grunt of pain, clutching his shoulder.

Shaking his head as his vision cleared, Phillip glanced up at the tunnel. A flash of lightning illuminated the rain-streaked exterior: Creek Fog was sprawled across the sand, unmoving, while Ingwa and Daring continued to battle, Daring gripping Ingwa’s forelegs as a knife inched closer to her face, the pegasus’ limbs stained in her own blood.

Pounding hoofsteps behind him. Phillip turned just in time to see Sand Snake bearing down on him like a train, bloody face twisted in rage and hooves stretched out towards him.

Phillip took the outstretched hooves like accepting an embrace and fell back, rolling as he placed his hooves against Snake’s gut. “Bwaah!” Snake screamed as he was sent flying through the air, arms flailing as he tumbled through the tunnel and crashed to the ground outside, sending plumes of mud into the air.

“Sand!” Ingwa cried at her lover’s crash. Her shout was punctuated by a whoosh of air as Daring’s knee rammed into her gut.

“Eyes on me, bitchface!” Daring taunted as she twisted and threw Ingwa to the ground. She punched Ingwa’s hoof, sending the knife spinning away into the mud.

“Whore!” Ingwa wheezed, forcing Daring away with a kick to the chest.

Huffing, his face red with fury and sweat, Sand Snake stood back up just in time to receive a punt to the face from Phillip, sending him flying back like a goal-making kick. He formed a canyon in the mud as he skidded, howling through his shattered nose and missing teeth. Phil gave Creek Fog a glance and felt a weight fall off him when he saw her stirring and sitting up.

He charged at Sand, but the other stallion’s horn lit up a sickly green. Hearing a whistling sound behind him, Phillip dove aside and rolled as the machete spun through the air, the blade hissing through the space where he had been standing before returning to Sand Snake’s hoof.

Sand’s other hoof snapped up and Phillip grunted as a wave of stinging red dust assailed his face, fortunately missing his eyes this time. The red-faced train, spitting and slurring through a mouthful of blood, rainwater, and broken teeth, charged him again, but Phillip easily sidestepped him, his counter-kick missing Sand Snake’s side by inches.

“Creek!” Rolling Thunder gasped as he rushed outside, carrying his dazed wife back into the cave.

Sand Snake spun around, panting as he faced off against Phillip. For a moment, all was still, the two stallions and the two mares glaring at one another through the rain, mud and blood dripping off of their forms, panting heavily. Lightning flared across the sky, illuminating the battleground in stark white.

And then they all heard it. A shriek that they felt in their bones, a cry of rage that tore itself from a dead throat.

Daring froze, her heart skipping several beats. Oh, no.

The wind shrieked and then it was there, standing behind them, its sopping mane swaying as it shivered; its head wobbled like a bobblehead on a neck that still bore gouge marks from Daring’s knife. They heard it sniffing the air, turning its head from side to side with insectoid movements, like a mantis stalking prey.

The four ponies remained frozen in place, eyes tracking the beast as it slowly started to stalk through the mud. It growled, clicking its rotten, chipped teeth in a staccato clack-clack-clack.

Phillip shuddered as he felt the hot, stinking breath stroke his back. Holding his breath, he watched out of the corner of his eye as the head, reeking of rotten flesh, sidled into view. The head turned towards him, dead eyes glinting in the darkness.

The namorodo leaned in close, sniffing the air, dead eyes glinting. Phillip cursed the pounding of his heart as if it would betray him; the effort of not breathing made his chest burn. Clack-clack-clack-clack, the rotten teeth sounded in his ear, each rancid breath coming in a growl.

Daring watched the namorodo stalking Phillip in horror, her mind racing as she tried to think of something. She glanced down and spotted a rock next to her hoof.

Before she could think better of herself, she snatched the rock up and threw it at the beast. Her throw was spot on, striking the beast on its bony side.

It yelped and whirled around to face her, letting out another terrible shriek of rage. In a blur and a howl of cold wind, it blurred over to where Daring and Ingwa stood, whipping its head back and forth as it searched for them.

Ingwa, shivering in terror, slowly stepped backward. The splash of her hoof coming down onto the soft mud sounded like a cymbal crash, even beneath the pattering rain. The beast whirled towards the sound and roared, its hot breath striking Ingwa like a physical blow. She whimpered in horror, flinching away from the beast.

“Hey! Get away from her!” Sand Snake shouted, sprinting at the namorodo and tackling it, hacking at it with his machete. The monster snarled and threw him off like a rag doll, but Sand was back on his hooves in a heartbeat, bellowing out a challenge as he flung himself at the namorodo once more.

Two knives spun through the air, reflecting the harsh glare of a lightning bolt, and stabbed into the skeletal hide with two thumps that blended with the thunderclap. The namorodo whirled towards Ingwa with a howl of fury, launching itself at the shrieking, babbling mare.

“In the cave! Now!” Rolling Thunder shouted. Phil and Daring turned and ran for the cave entrance, sliding in the mud as the Aborigineigh waved them in like lineponies waving runners to home plate.

A terrible scream of pain and fear made Phillip stop and turn. In a flare of lightning, he saw Sand Snake laying on the ground, screaming in horror as the namorodo bit down on his neck, slamming his machete ineffectually against the bony hide. Ingwa was wailing in despair as she frantically stabbed the beast in the back, the monster completely ignoring her attacks as it fed upon Snake.

Phillip watched, frozen, as Sand Snake’s body began to wither, spasming in agony. Blood leaked from his neck as his muscles shuddered beneath his skin, seeming to shrink down to the bone until his skin was hanging off his skeleton like an oversized coat. The skin around his abdomen shriveled down until Phillip could see his organs, all of them deflating like balloons. His screams turned into gurgles, then rattling wheezes as his eyes rolled back, seeming to shrink into his withering cranium.

“Ingwa! Over here!” Phillip shouted.

Sobbing in terror and despair, Ingwa abandoned her futile attacks and tried to run towards them, blinded by her tears and the darkness. Behind her, the namorodo finally released Sand Snake; in another flash of lightning, Phillip saw that the lipless mouth seemed to be smiling as it looked down upon the shriveled corpse...which suddenly twitched and stood up slowly, moving like a marionette being operated by an inept puppeteer, every movement making a loud crick as it turned to glare at Ingwa.

“Ingwa, freeze!” Daring called.

But Ingwa either didn’t hear her or didn’t register her words, continuing to sprint towards safety.

The wind shrieked. Two figures blurred through the darkness. Ingwa let out a scream of pain and fear like a pig being slaughtered as both namorodo tackled her. She desperately reached out towards Phil and Daring, screaming as they bit down on her neck.

Daring started to run back, but Creek grabbed her tail. “Don’t!” the Aborigineigh said, pulling her back into the cave. “It’s too late! Come, the chests!”

Ingwa’s screams turned into sobs, then wheezing rattles. Phil and Daring hesitated for a heartbeat, then turned and headed into the cave to the sound of cracking, dead joints.

“Find their weapons; they're enchanted, they're your only chance,” Rolling Thunder urged, beckoning them towards the back of the cave. The chest with the decorated lock waited for them. Daring grabbed the key and swept her eyes over the multicolored array of locked boxes.

“Which one is it?” she hissed aloud, her hoof hovering over the ruby chest for a moment before reconsidering.

Three dead voices roared from outside, their cries answered by a crash of thunder. Everypony froze, looking up in horror, instinctively looking around for an escape that they knew didn’t exist. Three skeletal shadows stretched into the cave as if reaching out for their victims; shuffling hoofsteps echoed over the stone. Phillip, Rolling, and Creek all pressed into a line between Daring and the entrance, all three of them trying to suppress their shivering.

Daring gulped and focused on the boxes, trying to ignore the heavy stamping of hooves, the hissing growls that were nearly drowned out by the thumping of her frantic heart. Licking her dry lips, she looked down at the painting of the Rainbow Serpent on the key, its body running along the bow and down the blade.

Wait...where the Rainbow Serpent touches the ground…

Her heart lifted as she spotted the blue-green box. Opals!

Coins clattered across the stone. Hot breath brushed against Daring’s back with low growls and sniffing, and she froze like she was facing a cockatrice. The shadows loomed over her own, spread against the back wall; the beasts were all shivering, panting and huffing as though they were tired or in pain. She felt Phillip’s tail wrap around her own; their combined panic settled in Daring’s gut like a lead block. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck.

Lightning crashed from outside, the flare illuminating the entire cave as thunder shook the stone walls. The three namorodo all flinched at the noise, lowering their trembling heads, then turned and howled at the sky, their teeth-grating cries echoing through the cave.

She wasn’t going to get another chance. Daring slammed the key into the lock of the opal-colored chest, nearly wincing as she turned it.

The lock clicked loudly as it opened and the chain fell away. Daring threw the chest open and looked inside.

Inside was a carved wooden club with one end carved into a spike and the other formed into a round head, the entire reddish-brown surface decorated with Aborigineigh art. Next to it, the rope coiled up like a serpent, was a stockwhip, the handle adorned in blue and white cord with an opal attached to the bottom.

Daring seized the whip by the handle, her hoof buzzing as she felt the magic dancing through the decorative cords and up her limb, and whirled around, swinging the whip around with a swoop! Her three companions all ducked beneath it and the whip began to glow faintly, yellow sparks skittering across the length, illuminating the faces of the three namorodo.

All three of them had the same expression on their shriveled, dead faces, the same look shining in their shrunken eyes as they stared at the whip. Fear.

Daring snapped her wrist down and the whip lashed out, striking the first namorodo’s face with an ear-splitting crack! Lightning raced up the length of the rope and struck the beast in the face and it reared away with a shriek of agony, clutching its face. Flesh melted through its hooves, spilling onto the ground like a rain of ashes, exposing the yellowed, rotten bone beneath.

A thrill of power ran up Daring’s spine, banishing her terror. “Ha!” she shouted, drawing the whip back and cracking it into Sand Snake’s face, forcing him away with a scream. "Not so fun when your food can fight back, huh?!"

Motion to her right. Daring turned just in time to see the thing that used to be Ingwa Wep lunging towards her, hooves reaching for her neck, the namorodo’s scream stabbing into Daring’s ears.

The shriek was returned by a roar of fury and a heavy swooshing. Thunder crashed and Ingwa was sent flying like she’d been struck by a wrecking ball, smashing into a stalagmite so hard that her back curved around it with a sickening crack like dry wood, leaving her writhing in pain on the ground.

The painted waddy clutched tight in his hoof, Phillip turned towards the former Sand Snake, deflecting a swipe at his throat and countering by smashing the rounded end into the thing’s face. There was a great boom like thunder and Sand was thrown back into the wall, clutching his bony face and writhing in agony, trying to scream even though his jaw bone had been knocked to the floor, shattered into pieces.

A predatory grin spread across Phillip’s face and he lunged once more, only for his second attack to miss as Sand threw himself aside, half-formed bays of pain and desperation spilling from his throat as he tried to run for the tunnel entrance.

“No, you don’t!” Phillip shouted, throwing his boomerang out. The smack of the spinning weapon striking Sand’s hind legs mixed with another clap of thunder and the beast fell to the ground with a cry as Daring whipped the stunned Ingwa, her strike burning away flesh about her neck to expose stringy red meat clinging to rib bones, making the dead mare writhe in pain as she screamed.

“Behind you!” Creek Fog shouted.

Daring jumped back and turned, cracking out her whip once more as the first namorodo lunged at her again, her attack striking it in the side with another flash of lightning. The thing flinched and stumbled into a pile of books, causing the journals to fall all over it like rain. Snarling and snapping, it scrambled to its hooves, crushing one of the older tomes into ripped pages beneath its hoof.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” Daring growled, glaring back at the monster.

Behind her, she heard Ingwa getting back to her hooves, huffing and growling. The other namorodo snarled and lowered its head as if gathering its courage, then lunged again.

Daring smirked and sidestepped again, cracking her wrist out. The rope coiled out and ensnared the skeletal foreleg and Daring pivoted around, pulling with her entire body. The namorodo screamed as it was guided helplessly into Ingwa, both of them crashing together and tumbling to the ground like bowling pins.

Daring glanced up just in time to see Phillip knocking Sand Snake to the ground with a blow. The undead monster laid sprawled onto the ground, the single eye that remained fixed in its skull wide in horror, one hoof raised as if to defend itself.

It was futile. Phillip brought the club back, holding it in two hooves, and slammed it down onto the exposed cranium with a roar. With another boom of thunder, the skull shattered like a china doll, shards skittering across the floor. Before the eyes of the witnesses, the body began to dissolve into sand, leaving behind only Snake’s vestments.

Phillip pounced on Ingwa and the first namorodo, the waddy smacking down on Ingwa’s foreleg with a crack. She screeched in agony and threw herself at him, swiping in wild desperation. Phillip was forced to backpedal, gritting his teeth as he deflected every blow.

The first namorodo shook its mane from its skeletal face and threw itself at Daring, growling and snapping at her face. Holding the whip taut between her hooves, Daring ducked and weaved around every attack, gasping as she felt its hot breath slap the side of her head. A hoof darted at her face but she knocked it aside with the whip and countered with an elbow to the exposed jaw, grinning as she saw jagged teeth fly from the mandible.

“Back up!” she barked, snapping the weighted end of the handle into the namorodo’s flesh, striking it where flesh was already eaten away from yellowed bone. It hissed and reeled back, and Daring flapped her wings sharply to push herself back, uncoiling her whip with one hoof.

“Watch it!” Creek warned too late.

Daring bumped into the stone wall and felt her heart drop into her stomach. In an instant, the thing was upon her and she only saved herself by thrusting the still-taut cord out before her, pressing it against the bony neck. It screeched as its skeletal hooves battered her face, jaws snapping as it tried to reach her throat; the dead eyes, hidden behind the slimy, waterlogged mane, blazed with hatred as it tried to reach her. Daring locked her elbows out, writhing in a desperate bid to escape death.

“Wandji--!” Daring tried to scream, but a blow to her throat left her gasping and coughing as her neck burned with pain, her panic doubling by the moment.

“No!” Phillip screamed, trying to get around to her, only to cry out in agony as the dead mare bit his foreleg. A horrid cold started to spread from the wound across the bite, feeling as though his muscles were rippling beneath his flesh, as though worms had crawled beneath the skin.

“Wandjina!” he shouted, summoning his defiance. A rush of cool rain ran up his body and Ingwa reeled back with a hiss of pain, but latched onto his foreleg, gritting her teeth as she stripped the waddy from his grip and tossed it aside.

Panting and huffing in exhausted desperation, Phillip fought for balance as the cold hooves tugged him back, gritting his teeth against the burning pain of the bleeding bite mark. Ingwa lunged at his face once more and he just barely managed to duck in time.

And then lightning lit up the entire cave with a furious roar. Both of the namorodo screamed as bolts assailed their dead bodies like machine-gun fire, releasing their prey and whirling around to face their new attackers.

Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog held a bundle of clouds between them, the conjured mist writhing as though with barely restrained fury. Lightning crackled within the amorphous shape, illuminating the Aborigineigh's faces; their countenances practically glowed with a righteous rage that was at once terrifying and inspiring to behold. For a moment, both Phil and Daring thought that in the stormy glow, the elder couple's eyes were glowing white.

"Defilers," Rolling Thunder growled, his voice rumbling through the cave. "You are not welcome in this holy place."

"You cannot stop them from taking what is theirs," Creek replied, her voice chillingly cold.

The namorodo both trembled for a moment, their bones rattling almost musically, then screamed in unison, voices a mixture of desperation and terror and defiance as they blurred towards their prey.

Thunder and Creek both gestured, spitting out a word in their native tongues, and the clouds that they had conjured swirled around them, covering their bodies. The beasts tore into the clouds, dissipating them into wisps.

The Aborigineigh were both gone.

Swoop-crack!

The first namorodo fell to its knees and screamed, clutching the side of its neck, yellow dust spilling between its hooves, its head flapping like a loose lid, barely hanging onto its neck by a few remnants of vertebrae.

Her dead eyes widening in horror, Ingwa spun about just in time to lock her gaze on Phillip charging at her like a freight train, his face twisted in rage as he drew the waddy back and swung it like a baseball bat.

At the same moment, Daring drew the whip back, the glow of the whip illuminating her grin as she snapped it once more towards the wailing beast's neck.

A pair of thunderclaps shook the cave walls. Ingwa's skull shattered into pieces as sparks flew from the end of Daring's whip, cleaving through the remainder of the monster's neck. Another flare of lightning illuminated the cave, catching the look of shock and disbelief on the bony face as it flew off its shoulders and clattered to the floor.

Phillip and Daring sagged like ragdolls, panting as they watched the corpses dissolve into sand until there was nothing left but dust and a pair of cloaks.

"Well done!" Creek Fog cheered as she and her husband emerged from the shadows, both of them beaming at their charges.

"How did...?" Daring stammered. "Where did you--?"

"Aborigineigh illusion magic," Rolling Thunder explained as his wife bent down to tend to Phillip's wounded foreleg, helping him apply disinfectant and bandages.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Daring asked, her stomach twisting in concern.

"Don't worry, he got her off before she could do any real damage," Creek reassured her, tightening the gauze wrap around the bite mark. "It'll hurt for a while and you'll need to get plenty of rest, but you should be okay."

"Ripper," Phillip nodded, relief washing over his face, then wincing as another wave of pain radiated across his limb. "Daring, you okay?"

“Exhausted,” Daring said, fighting the urge to just close her eyes and sleep.

"Same," Phillip nodded, his head lolling.

“I’m not surprised,” Creek replied, nodding to the stockwhip that lay next to Daring as she started to clean and bandage the younger mare's forelegs. “Aside from fighting three namorodo, you both have been channeling a lot of magic through yourselves.”

Daring grinned at her new weapon. “Wasn’t expecting to get a lightning whip out of this trip,” she admitted.

“When we get back to Sydneigh, you two are going to be famous,” Rolling beamed at her.

“You mean even more famous,” Daring corrected him.

“Your uncle is going to be so proud,” Creek said, sitting down next to her to tend to her wounds.

“Uncle Prom,” Phillip said, looking up from bandaging his bite. “Bloody hell, almost forgot about that.”

He started to pat down Sand’s vest, looking for any clues. “Aha,” he declared, pulling out an envelope and a folded-up typewritten letter.

“Note explaining what the journal is and how to break the code,” he reported, looking over the message.

“There an address?” Daring asked.

Phillip glanced at the envelope. “Not a return one, but…” He examined the envelope more closely beneath his flashlight. “There’s a logo on this, painted over with whiteout. It’s…”

He tilted the envelope back and his eyes widened. “We gotta get back to Sydneigh pronto.”

Author's Note

Oh, right, there was a mystery to be solved.

Hope you liked that fight scene, readers! I admit, this was tough to choreograph, but I truly hope the end result was worth it. Can't get the loot without facing the final boss, after all!

Like what you read? Leave a like and a comment to show your support!

This chapter underwent a minor rewrite on July 27, 2022.

Case Eighteen, Chapter Nine: Treasures Revealed

Promenade Deck stared at Detective Tracker in disbelief. “She couldn’t have done it!”

“I’m afraid that it really does look that way,” the constable nodded. “We found the letter in Spic Span’s office trash, and he’s the one who had the key.”

“I knew it had to be her,” Yellow Page scowled, sitting next to his friend on the porch of his mansion, patting Burney on his head as the dog lay next to him. “All those years, she wanted to be the one to find Bushwhacker’s treasure, and she found her opportunity at last. I assume that you’ve arrested them both?”

“Yup,” Tracker nodded. “Neither of them are talking, but--”

They were interrupted by a battered pickup truck, its once white paint now yellow and brown with years of grime and exposure to the elements, pulling up in front of the block and parking. The passenger and back doors opened and two familiar ponies stepped out.

Burney let out a yip and immediately charged at Daring Do, barking with every step as his tail wagged frantically. Daring flew up into the air and out of the dog’s reach. “I am not dealing with you right now,” she scowled down at Burney, who continued to bark at her, hopping up and down in a bid to reach her.

“Thanks for the ride, mate,” Phillip said to the driver, handing him a small stack of bits for his trouble. The griffon driver waved goodbye as he drove on.

“You’re back!” Promenade Deck, hurrying down from his porch to hug his nephew and his partner. As he stepped back, his eyes caught the painted waddy and the coiled stockwhip strapped to the two ponies’ sides. His jaw dropped open as he stared at their prizes.

“Are...are those…?” he gasped out.

“The dinky-di, Uncle Prom,” Phillip grinned at him, patting Burney. “We found it. It’s in Uluru.”

“Uluru!” Promenade Deck cried, dancing in place. “That’s only a two-day drive from here!”

“Better than walking,” Daring commented, slowly returning to the ground, one eye kept on Burney, who simply stared and panted at her. “Lucky we found that farm the day after we found the cave.”

“Glad to see you’re back,” Beach Tracker said, proceeding down the steps to greet them. “What happened to Sand Snake and Ingwa Wep?”

“Dead,” Daring replied grimly.

“Oh,” Tracker nodded. “How?”

Phil and Daring glanced at each other. “Animal attack,” Daring answered curtly.

“What’s been going on here?” Phillip said.

Promenade paused for a long moment, then sighed. “Detective Beach Tracker was just telling me that they’ve arrested Akely and Spic Span,” he finally said. “They think that they were the ones who stole the journal.”

Phil and Daring both glanced at each other, then headed up the path, Burney following alongside Phil. Daring headed inside while Phillip approached the detective.

“And what makes you think that they did it?” he asked.

“When we searched Spic Span’s office trash, we found a letter from Akely telling him how to get into the safe, and the envelope had the logo from her bookstore, covered in whiteout,” Sand Tracker explained. “She offered to split the payment fifty-fifty with him. And let’s not forget that he had a key.”

Phillip scowled. “Think about it, mate. If Akely was going to come up with a brilliant plan to steal that journal, you really think that she would use envelopes from her own bookstore?”

“Perhaps she’s simply not as smart as she thinks,” Yellow Page sniffed, patting Burney as the dog curled up next to him.

“Didn’t Spic Span work for you?” Phillip asked.

“He did,” Yellow nodded. “He was a fine worker, or so I thought.”

“He always carried his keys on him?” Phillip asked.

“Yes, he had them on a ring on his belt,” Yellow confirmed. “Always had them with him when he was going straight from house to house.”

“Really,” Phillip said dryly, looking down at the dog. “Uncle Prom, question: does Burney bark at Spic Span?”

“Uh…” Promenade Deck thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah he does. Spic has to shut him outside so he can clean without being hounded.”

“So if Spic came in to steal from the safe, then his barking would’ve woken you up,” Phillip said. “Thus, whoever broke in was somepony that the dog knew and knew well.”

“That does make sense…” Beach Tracker said slowly, looking down at the dog, who tilted his head to the side and panted.

“And we found these on Sand Snake and Ingwa,” Phillip continued, pulling a folded typewritten letter out of his vest. “Allegedly from Akely; envelope with her store’s logo on it, too. There’s a problem with that.”

“These,” Daring declared, exiting the door with a set of other letters in her hoof.

“What are those?” Yellow Page asked, his eyes tracking the letters.

“Your typewritten letters from before,” Daring replied coldly as Phillip held up Sand’s letter and compared it to the stack.

“Detective,” Phillip said. “Take a look at these letters. See anything similar?”

Beach Tracker looked over Phillip’s shoulder, his frown deepening by the moment. “Those y’s both have a similar drop,” he said, pointing.

“And a defect on the b, kerning’s off on the c and the r,” Phillip continued.

All three detectives looked over at Yellow Page, who was staring up at them wide-eyed, his face suddenly pale. “Care to explain?” Daring Do asked.

“It…” Yellow Page swallowed. “But I don’t have a key! How could I have--”

“Spic Span worked for you,” Daring cut him off. “You copied his key somehow when he was cleaning for you. I took another look at the back door, and there’s some wax in the keyhole.” She grimaced at herself. “Would’ve seen that last time if I wasn’t still hungover.”

Yellow Page’s eyes darted back and forth between his captors. “It...it must’ve been Akely!” he protested. “Burney doesn’t bark at her when she comes!”

“No,” Phillip shook his head. “I saw the tracks you left behind. Right hind hoof, same as Akely's injured leg. I might have been pissed that morning, but I would’ve recognized a limp like hers. Those were your tracks that you left behind.”

Yellow Page gulped loudly, eyes scanning each glaring face as if seeking an escape.

“Yellow…” Promenade said slowly, shock in his eyes. “Is it true?”

Yellow Page opened his mouth as if to speak, then sighed and lowered his head. “Of course you had to come along,” he grumbled. “All right, I admit it. I stole the journal.”

Promenade Deck hissed in a gasp and slowly sat down, his jaw hanging open as his friend went on. “When Prom found the journal, I knew it was my chance: the truth is, I’ve been in debt for years and the treasure was my chance of getting out of debt.”

“And you wanted to get back at Akely for what she said about you,” Daring added.

Yellow scowled. “That bitch tried to ruin my reputation years ago!” he snarled. “It’s not like I sent her into that ravine on purpose; it was an accident!” He took a breath and shook his head.

“Anyway, I stole a few envelopes from her bookstore one day,” he continued. “I typed up a message to Sand Snake and Ingwa Wep, offering to split the treasure three ways if they did the legwork finding it and sent it in a fake envelope. The night before I stole the journal, I had Spic Span over to clean my place. While I distracted him with some tea, I snuck the key to Promenade’s house off the belt and put it into a clamshell. I made a copy of the key and snuck in the next night, taking the journal and passing it off to Sand and Ingwa through a dead drop. Then, after the police investigation started, I put the fake letter in Spic Span’s trash, knowing that the police might eventually find it.” He huffed. “Didn’t even think that the typewriter would betray me…”

Beach Tracker shook his head. “Crikey. That’s the most convoluted plan I’ve ever heard.”

“I was hoping that I’d be gone with the money by now,” Yellow admitted.

“And you might’ve gotten away with it if it wasn’t for us meddling ponies?” Daring smirked.

Everypony gave her a puzzled look. “Been waiting months to say that,” Daring declared proudly.

Detective Tracker looked at Phillip, who just rolled his eyes. “Right,” the constable declared. “I think it’s best if you came with me, mate.”

His head hung in shame, Yellow Page allowed himself to be placed in hoofcuffs and was escorted down the sidewalk to the waiting cruiser. Promenade Deck watched in disbelief as his friend was placed into the back seat and driven off. Not once did the unicorn look up.

“Is…” Promenade stammered. “Could I have prevented that?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Uncle Prom,” Phillip said, patting him on the back. “He made his own choices, and he fooled all of us. For a while, at least.”

“I’m more embarrassed than anything else,” Daring shook her head. “Teach us to get that drunk again. Never know if we’ll have to solve a mystery first thing in the morning.”

“Agreed,” Phillip said.

Promenade sighed heavily and patted Burney on the head. “Well...did you get the journal back?” he finally asked, looking up.

Daring smiled and took the battered book out from inside her vest. “Here it is,” she declared, reverently handing it over.

Promenade slowly opened up the book, gently running a hoof over the ancient yellowed pages. A smile slowly passed over his face, his eyes brightening in wonder.

“Where’s the treasure?” he asked, looking up, his face glowing with childlike exuberance.

“We left it in the cave at Uluru,” Phillip grinned, taking out a pair of rusty red keys. “But no worries. We can get back in.”

Promenade stared at the keys in unfettered joy. “Then what are we still standing here for?! C’mon, anklebiters, we have treasure to recover! Bugger me, I gotta call my friend at the museum! And Akely! She’ll want to come!” He hurried inside with Burney at his heels, listing off things that needed to be done and equipment that needed to be gathered.

Phillip sighed wearily and leaned against the wall. “I just wanted to go on vacation,” he mumbled.

Daring grinned and booped him. “You kidding? Hunting treasure, camping in the outback, and fighting bad guys! This is the best vacation I’ve ever been on!”

Phillip smiled wearily. “Of course you’d say that.”

“Now are we gonna get back out there or what?” Daring asked, following Prom back inside. Phillip went in after her, his gray eyes twinkling as he studied his mare.

Phil and Daring both placed the keys into Angkakert’s and Awely-Awely’s waiting hooves. The ponies crowded around Uluru gasped in astonishment as the illusory stone faded away, revealing the tunnel within.

Promenade Deck and Akely-Pip both started forward, then paused and looked at each other. Promenade stepped back and gestured for her to enter first. Akely proceeded forward, determinedly shuffling forth on her wounded leg. Promenade went in after her, followed by the white turquoise-maned unicorn mare from the Sydney History Museum.

Phil and Daring both looked back at the others. Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog turned to Bobby and Rain Rhythm, Bobby standing dutifully behind his wife’s wheelchair. “We’ve already seen it,” Creek Fog said, gesturing for the musicians to go first.

Bobby pushed Rain’s wheelchair forward through the sandy terrain, both of their faces lit up with almost childlike excitement as they entered the tunnel. Phil and Daring entered after them.

They paused within the treasure cave, the detectives smiling as the others all gaped about them in disbelieving awe, revolving in place as they drank in the sight.

“It’s real,” the unicorn mare breathed, her knees trembling so much that the beads of the Alicorn’s Witness rosary around her neck rattled musically. “Faust, Speranza, Celestia, Luna, Amore, and Cadenza, it’s all true.”

“I told you, Doctor Stone! I told you!” Promenade Deck cheered, dancing with joy as he scooped his hooves into a small barrel filled to the brim with gold doubloons.

Akely shuffled over to a painted didgeridoo and slowly reached out to run a hoof over the smooth, decorated bark. A smile creased across her face as she began to silently weep with joy. “After all these years,” she whispered, laughing through the tears.

Bobby and Rain both turned to beam at Phil and Daring. “Look at you!” Bobby grinned, pulling both of them into a tight hug. “Fighting crime, killing monsters, and finding ancient treasure. Rain, how’d we get so lucky?”

“The spirits must’ve smiled upon us all,” Rain smiled, leaning up to kiss all of them on the cheek.

“Museums will be paying through the nose for this,” Doctor Stone was already stammering out, running from corner to corner, trying to document everything. “So much history, all waiting in here for centuries! Oh, I can’t wait to get started! Come on, let’s get the workers in here!”

“We’d best give them some room to work,” Promenade said, pulling himself away from the treasure with great reluctance. The civilians exited the cave, allowing the crew of workers from the Sydney Museum’s waiting truck to enter with their bags of photographic equipment, murmuring excitedly.

“Thank you,” Akely-Pip cried, her eyes still shining with joyful tears as she clasped Phillip’s hoof. “Thank you so much for this! I had given up on ever finding it for years!”

“Should be thanking you for finding that journal,” Phillip replied.

Akely paused. “How did that even get in that box?” she wondered aloud. “That journal was lost for years, and then…”

Daring turned and saw Rolling Thunder and Creek Fog walking away from the group, heading eastwards. “Hey, where are you going?” she called, hurrying over to catch up with them.

“Back home,” Creek Fog replied, smiling at her. “Our work here is done.”

“It was a great pleasure to meet you,” Rolling beamed at her. “You and Phillip have great things ahead of you.”

“Thank you both for everything,” Daring said, shaking Thunder and Creek’s hooves. “You were the best guides we could’ve asked for. Here, take this.” She pulled out her bit bag and started to pass it to the mare’s hooves.

“Oh, no, no,” Creek Fog replied, stepping back and lifting her hoof in refusal. “We can’t take your money.”

“You took us out into the desert on a wild goose hunt and nearly died a half-dozen times,” Daring said. “You’re getting paid.”

“If you really want to repay us,” Rolling Thunder said with a smile as he pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head. “Use those gifts well.” He nodded at the stockwhip coiled to Daring’s side.

He leaned in close, his voice lowering. “You’ve faced terrible things, we know,” he whispered. “And we fear that worse things are coming. But those weapons will help you.”

“Be well,” Creek Fog said, reaching up to stroke Daring’s cheek with the back of her hoof; her touch was soothingly cool, like the touch of a light drizzle on a summer night. “We will be seeing you again soon,” she added with a wink as she pulled her own hood up. “Just listen close; when you call, you will hear us.”

Daring frowned in puzzlement. “What’s that mean--?”

“Hey, Daring!” Phillip called from back at the tunnel.

Daring turned around to find Phillip waving her over before turning back to speak to Doctor Stone.

“Well, I--” Daring turned back around to face her guides and her jaw dropped.

Both of the Aborigineighs were gone. Daring looked about, scanning the bush for any sign of them, but they had vanished entirely.

“What the fu…” Daring turned and slowly walked back to Phillip, her head spinning in disbelief. When she reached Phillip, she saw that he was also sweeping the bush with his eyes, frowning in puzzlement.

“Where’d they go?” he asked Daring.

“Fuck if I know,” Daring shrugged.

Phillip pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “Right. Doctor Stone?”

“I was just saying, that waddy and your stockwhip,” the museum curator said, nodding to the weapons that were hanging off their vests. “Those are great historical treasures, belonging to two of Aushaylia’s most famous figures. The museum would be honored to exhibit those!”

“Your call, Daring,” Phillip said, turning to her.

Daring reached down and took the stockwhip from her belt, turning the decorated handle in her hoof. She felt the warmth of the magic within dancing over her hoof, up her arm; as if responding to her touch, sparks danced across the rope.

She glanced over at Phillip, who was spinning the waddy over in his hooves, studying the swirling black and blue lines painted over the red wood. He clutched the handle and his shoulders tensed up slightly as Daring momentarily felt a strange warmth brush over her wing.

“Use your gifts well.”

Daring and Phil looked at each other for a moment, then both nodded.

“Sorry,” Phillip said, returning the waddy to his vest. “But they’re not for sale.”

“Are you sure about that?” Doctor Stone protested. “If you lose those or they break--”

“We’ll take good care of ‘em, doc,” Daring cut her off. “Besides, with the lives we’ve been leading, I have a bad feeling that we’ll be needing these soon.”

Doctor Stone looked like she was going to protest, then sighed. “Very well. But I’ll keep an exhibit for them if you ever change your mind.”

“Now,” Daring said with a grin. “Can we help with the packing?”

Two nights later was Nightmare Night. As the sun set, Sydneigh became alive with jack o’lanterns and illuminated displays of skeletons and beasts; foals and fillies in costumes paraded the streets in search of the best candies, their laughter rising up to the sky.

Away from all the noise, Phil and Daring trotted alone across the beach, allowing the crashing water to wash across their hooves. The full moon hung low over the sea, its light reflecting off of the dark, rippling water. Shouts of joy and cheers sounded from the sail-shaped rooftops of the Sydneigh Opera House in the distance, their pearl-white paint illuminated by many spotlights.

“Our last night in Sydneigh,” Phillip said, looking over at the opera house. “You sure you didn’t want to see that Nightmare Night show?”

“Forget the crowds,” Daring replied. “I’ve had enough of being around other ponies for the moment, especially ones that are shoving cameras into our faces. I just wanna be with you tonight.”

“Should I be honored?” Phillip said with a small grin.

Daring chuckled and kissed him on the cheek, draping a wing over his withers and pulling him close. “Definitely.”

They walked on in comfortable silence for a bit longer, watching their hoofsteps being washed away by the tide.

“Hold on,” Phillip said, pausing and staring at the water for a long moment; Daring could feel his body shaking slightly through her wing.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling him a little closer. “You cold?”

“No,” Phillip replied. He swallowed and took a breath. “No, I…” He was silent for a moment longer, licking his lips, then turned to look at her.

“A little over a year ago, you walked into my life,” he said, his gaze fixed steadily upon hers. “At first I thought you’d just be my partner. But then you became my friend. And then I fell in love with you.”

He paused and licked his lips again, eyes flicking away as Daring tilted her head to the side. “You gave me so much,” he continued. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be dead by now and Ponyville would still be a bloody mess. A-and…” He wiped his face and took a breath, his shoulders heaving.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he forced himself to continue. “Daring...would you…?”

Daring smiled and cut him off by pressing a hoof against his lips. “Phil, a little over a year ago, I walked into your office with no job, no home, no friends, and no hope,” she said, looking up at his warm gray eyes. “You gave me a life again and helped me move on from my past. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be back in jail or dead by now.”

She lifted up her hoof to reveal the small velvet box that she’d sneaked out of Phillip’s vest. He blinked in surprise as she popped it open. The pair of small identical golden hoops within were among the most humble pieces of jewelry that Daring had ever seen, but the sight of them still made her heart flutter in her chest.

She lifted out one of the earrings and clipped it to Phillip’s right ear as he stared in silence; Daring could feel him shaking with joy as tears formed in his eyes. She then took out the other earring and clipped it to her left ear.

“So the answer is yes,” she beamed up at him.

A smile slowly creased Phillip’s face and he hugged her tight to him, kissing her on the lips. She melted into his embrace as his joyful tears mixed with her own.

“I love you, Daring Do,” Phillip whispered into her ear.

“I love you, Phillip Finder,” Daring replied, nestling into the warm safety of his hug.

Author's Note

Art by Miyathegoldenflower!

Huzzah! We finally tied the knot! I hope you've enjoyed this series and this conclusion! There was, indeed, a curious incident with the dog that night, and it turned out to be the key to everything.

Next chapter: the wedding!

Case Eighteen, Chapter Ten: Til Death Do Us Part

A light rain, carried by the chilly winds of the Moon of Frost, pattered against the windows of the Apple Pie in Your Eye, the mist creating a phosphorescent glow around the blue and yellow lanterns next to the door. A sign on the door read, “Closed for private event.”

In one of the guest bedrooms up on the second floor, Phillip stared at himself in the full-length mirror, nervously adjusting the tie of his old formal police uniform for the hundredth time: he felt a bizarre, nervous itching and tingling in his hooves that would only abate if he kept them busy.

“You know, the last time I saw you in that, you were graduating from the police academy,” Bobby Baseline said with a grin, watching his son anxiously preening himself. “Honestly, I’m surprised it still fits you. And that you kept it.”

“Just never got around to getting rid of it,” Phillip replied, tugging on the golden aiguillette over his right shoulder. “And Rarity had to do a quick fix-up for me.”

Bobby chuckled. “Didn’t think you’d gained that much weight, son,” he joked, ruffling Phil’s mane.

“Your son was quite disoriented without your wife’s cooking to sustain him,” Suunkii smirked from the other side of the room, where he was helping Flash Sentry with his tie, dusting off the younger stallion’s too-large thrift store suit. “He had to subsist primarily off of frozen meals.”

“I learned how to cook,” Phillip huffed, glaring at the zebra.

“After nearly burning down both my kitchen and your kitchen more times than I could count,” Suunkii replied with a smirk.

“You’re spoiled, getting to still live with your mom and have her cook for you,” Red Herring told Flash, clapping the younger stallion on the back.

“Actually, I had to do most of the cooking after the accident,” Flash replied.

Phil looked around the room at the other stallions, then sat down on the creaky guest bed and smiled, a strange contentment slowly trickling through his body. “Means a lot,” he announced to the others. “You all being here today.”

“Ah, don’t get sappy,” Red scoffed, though he couldn’t conceal a small smile.

“You were the best stallion at my wedding,” Suunkii said, clapping a hoof on his friend’s shoulder. “Now it is my turn to return the favor.”

“I’m just glad that this day finally came,” Bobby said, seizing his son in a crushing embrace that forced the wind from his lungs.

Flash blushed and shuffled his hooves awkwardly. “I, uh…” He ran a hoof through his mane. “It’s a great honor to be one of your best stallions, actually.”

A moment later, he squeaked in surprise as Phillip and Bobby both pulled him into a hug.

“No, Flash,” Phillip smiled, tussling the younger stallion’s lightning blue mane. “It’s my honor.”

Flash beamed and hugged Phillip and Bobby back.

“You guys are disgustingly sappy,” Red scoffed.

“Shush,” Suunkii scolded him.

“And swoosh!” Rainbow Dash declared, gesturing with a hoof. “Came back into the runway so fast that the DS’s hat flew right over the fence!” She laughed heartily and stretched out her prosthetic wing. “An academy record on a metal wing! He made me go over and get it back and do wingups, but I could tell he was impressed.”

“Yes, Rainbow, I’m glad that you had a great time at boot camp,” Twilight sighed with a small roll of her eyes. “We’re all very impressed with you and glad that you got into the Air Force Reserves. But tonight isn’t about you.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Daring Do cut in, standing in front of the mirror as Sirba and Rain Rhythm both made last-minute adjustments to her mane and tail. “Keep talking, Dash. Maybe it’ll keep my mind off of this stupid thing.” She scowled at her current accouterments: a white dress with gold accents and decorations of stars and roses woven into the lace. When she’d told Rarity she just wanted a cheap, simple dress, this wasn’t what she really had in mind. Could that mare do nothing halfway?

“You’re telling me,” Rainbow said, frowning at her own dress with its rainbow spectrum train and poofy cloud-like fabric. “I can’t believe that Rarity managed to make these so fast. Thing’s even heavier than those stupid Class As.”

“Then why’d you bother with it?” Daring asked. “I mean, I wouldn’t really have cared if you weren’t dressed up.”

“So says the mare in the beautiful dress,” Sirba chuckled, the multicolored beads in her mane, tail, and shawl clattering musically as she finished weaving a crown of white flowers into Daring’s gray mane. “Normally such attire would cause you great stress.”

“Well, yeah,” Daring grumbled. “But Phil’s gonna be in uniform and I wanted to look good for him today.”

“So did all of us,” Twilight said, adjusting her own fuchsia dress. “This is an important day for both of you.”

“It’s only natural that your family would want this to be special for you,” Rain smiled, giving Daring’s collar one last adjustment. She wheeled herself back, smoothing out her own pale blue dress, and cocked her head to the side, beaming at Daring. “There. You look gorgeous, ampa.”

Ampa. Daughter. The word echoed pleasantly in Daring’s ears. She looked around at her chosen bridesmaids.

Her family.

“I just…” Daring smiled and took a breath to collect her thoughts, looking down. “Thanks. All of you,” she finally managed to say, feeling foolish for being so inadequate.

“Anything for a friend,” Twilight smiled back at her.

“I am only too happy to stand by your side,” Sirba beamed. “To see you come so far fills me with pride.”

Joyful tears in her eyes, Rain reached up and stroked the back of Daring’s cheek with her hoof. “It means the world to me,” she said. “To be here with you. To have watched you come so far. It’s my great honor to know you, ampa.”

“Amey, in these past few months, you were more my mother than my actual mother was her entire life,” Daring said, feeling a few tears prickling at her eyes as she leaned into her mother’s touch. “The honor is all mine.”

She flung her arms around Rain and hugged her tight, both mares feeling each other’s tears dripping down onto their shoulders. Rainbow, Twilight, and Sirba both joined in the hug a moment later, all of them beaming and laughing quietly.

A rapping at the door brought them all to attention. Bobby opened the door and leaned inside.

“Ladies, we’re all ready if you are,” he declared.

“Okay, girls, just like we rehearsed,” Twilight announced, beckoning. Rainbow and Sirba followed her outside, heading downstairs.

“Ready, hon?” Bobby asked, offering his arm to Daring.

Daring stared at the arm for a moment, her heart dancing in her chest with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. Taking that foreleg and heading down those stairs meant taking her first steps into a new life. A new world.

She smiled at her reflection, compressing that nervousness into fuel to push herself forward. Daring Do was nothing if not adventurous.

“Ready,” she declared, taking her father’s foreleg and allowing him to guide her down the stairs, with Rain following in her wheelchair.

“You’re nervous,” Joyful Sound smiled from Phillip’s right.

“It’s that obvious?” Phillip muttered, turning to find that she was beaming at him, her unseeing eyes meeting his.

“I can hear your breathing,” Joy smiled at him. She reached out with her hoof and found his shoulder, patting it reassuringly. “Fret not; I’ve not met a groom or a bride yet who wasn’t nervous on their wedding day. Nervous and a little excited. You are, after all, starting a new life.”

Phillip squeezed her hoof with a small smile. “I’m glad that you’re here for us today,” he nodded.

“It's my honor and joy, Phil,” Joy replied, bowing her head.

Phillip took a breath to steady himself, looking about the Apple Pie. The tables, each one attended by their guests, were carefully set so that an aisle was formed from the stairs up to the makeshift altar set in front of the stage. Flash, Red, and Suunkii were standing behind him; opposite him were Rainbow, Twilight, and Sirba. His mother watched quietly from the front row, her hooves folded in her lap. Pinkie and Applejack were waiting behind the bar, Applejack gently cradling Endeavor in one foreleg. Rara was up on stage, waiting with the rest of the Outbackers.

Everywhere Phillip looked among the small collection of guests, familiar faces looked back at him. Spike. Doctor Mortis, her crystal coat glimmering in the light as she sat next to Captain Screaming Eagle. Bumblebee, holding hooves with Arc Light. Prowl, sitting next to Maple Leaf, with Skysong bouncing in the seat next to her. Cold Case, who was sitting by herself near the back of the room. Autumn Blaze, who was bouncing in her seat in giddiness. Steamed Carrot, standing at her post behind the buffet table; mouthwatering aromas wafted from the many plates of food waiting atop it, all of them surrounding the three-tier white chocolate cake. Honeydew, sitting next to her and Red's son Red Lion.

All of them were smiling back at him. All of them, even Cold. He and Daring had both agreed that they wanted a small, simple wedding, but the number of ponies that they agreed on inviting had surprised them both.

He smiled as a cool, comforting wave washed over him. Seems that they had more family than they had thought.

Muziqaa, clothed in a white shirt with a red shawl and carrying a white pillow with two gold earrings set atop it, glanced over his shoulder into the stairwell behind him, then waved to Rara. Rara nodded, then signaled for the band to raise their instruments.

A jazz rendition of the Bridal March began and every guest rose to their hooves. Phillip felt his breath snatched away as Daring emerged through the threshold, her head crowned by flowers, her white dress immaculate, her face glowing with joy. She met his eyes and smiled, her gaze locking onto his as she proceeded forward slowly, escorted by Bobby. Muziqaa followed behind, proudly bearing the rings.

At the end of the aisle, Daring released herself from Bobby and stepped forward to stand by his side, still beaming up at him. Bobby sat down next to his wife, taking her hoof as she dabbed at her eyes with a hoofkerchief. Phillip smiled back, his heart feeling like it was trying to soar out of his chest.

“Dearly beloved,” Joyful Sound declared, her voice carrying over the room as the band quieted. “We are gathered here today, in sight of the Holy Mother, to join Phillip Finder and Daring Do in holy matrimony.” She smiled at them both. “I have watched these two come very far, farther than any of us could have predicted. In a year, they have turned their lives completely around. Just look around this room...well, you should, it’s not like I can do that,” she chuckled, prompting a round of light laughter from the others. “All of these creatures gathered here for these two. It just goes to show the true power of friendship. The seeds of hope, honesty, loyalty, generosity, and kindness that Daring and Phil planted among the city have blossomed into this beautiful fruit and brought them both here. Today we celebrate that fruit with their union.

“The Holy Mother has brought you thus far, Phillip and Daring,” Joyful smiled at them both. “And now, all of us shall plant this new seed, start this new journey. Together.

“Now, the earrings.”

Glowing with pride, Muziqaa presented the pillow with the earrings upon it. “Daring Do,” Joyful Sound said, turning towards the bride. “Take the earring and present it to Phillip with your vow.”

Daring reached out with her unblemished right hoof and plucked one of the golden earrings, holding it as gently as though it were an ancient relic freshly dug out of the ground. She held it out to Phillip, looking into his eyes over the golden circle.

“Phil, you gave me a home,” she said. “You gave me a family and a purpose. You proved to me that I am not just my past. And the two of us kick ass together.”

Genuine laughter rumbled through the room as a smile creased Phillip’s face and he bowed his head.

“I promise to stay with you, no matter what,” Daring said, clipping the earring to his ear. “I promise to keep kicking ass with you, to protect this city and our family together.” She glanced around at the room, casting her gaze upon those she had just sworn to protect before turning back to Phil. “I take you as my husband, for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part.”

Phillip stood back up, joy racing up and down his spine at her words. Til death do us part.

“Phillip Finder, take the earring and present it to Daring with your vow,” Joyful prompted him.

Phillip took the other earring and held it before her. “Daring, you came into my life when I was at my lowest,” he said, a lump of emotion forming in his throat. “You taught me how to smile again. More than that, you gave me hope. A purpose again. A family again.”

Tears pricking at her eyes, Daring bowed her head to allow him to clip the jewelry onto her ear.

“I promise to always be there for you,” Phillip intoned as he placed the golden earring upon her ear. “I promise to always have a home waiting for you. And I promise that if you are ever lost, I will be your north star.”

She let out a soft little laugh and shook her head, blinking back tears. "You sap," she whispered.

“I take you as my wife,” Phillip said, taking her right hoof in his own. “For better and for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part.”

“And now, by the power invested in me,” Joyful Sound beamed at them both. “I hereby pronounce you wife and husband. You may kiss.”

The sentence was barely out of her mouth before Daring wrapped both her forelegs around Phillip’s neck and kissed him deeply. He melted into the embrace, kissing her in return and rubbing her back as the Apple Pie burst into applause.

Husband and wife.

The trill of a party horn announced a shower of confetti raining down from the ceiling. “C’mon, everypony!” Pinkie Pie cheered. “Let’s party!”

The Outbackers started up their instruments once more, swinging into Lost in the Rhythm.

Phil and Daring finally separated, both of them still embracing each other as the crowd began to disperse, most of them gathering around the couple for congratulations.

“Look at him, Rain,” Bobby said, his voice choking up with emotion as joyful tears glimmered in his vivid blue eyes. “Our son’s all grown up.”

“We’re so proud of you,” Rain beamed, allowing the tears to fall freely.

“Thanks, mom, dad,” Phillip smiled back, his own eyes watering.

“Now, how about those grandkids?” Rain teased with a grin.

“Mom!” Phillip protested, his ears turning scarlet as his parents both snickered.

“Oh, enough with the sappy stuff,” Daring said, forcing down her own blush. “Let me at that buffet tabl--hey! Red, get your greasy hooves off that cake!” she shouted. The detective sheepishly backed away from the cake, Honeydew rolling her eyes good-naturedly as she escorted her ex-husband away.

As she headed for the buffet, Daring spotted a unicorn heading her way. Cold Case was wearing a simple arctic blue dress and had had her mane and coat brushed for the occasion. She strode towards Daring and Phillip, her face composed and neutral.

“Congratulations,” she declared with a nod. “Frankly, I was starting to wonder how long it was going to take.”

“Thank you,” Phillip nodded, smiling pleasantly. Daring nodded back, trying to smile back but not quite making it.

Cold looked back and forth between them, then her horn lit up. Something levitated out of her dress’s pocket and floated over to Phillip’s hoof.

An old metal purple coin with a faded 10 embossed into it in gold.

“I have my own now,” Cold said with a genuine smile, lifting up a new one out of her pocket. She looked over at Applejack, who winked.

“Thank you both,” Cold continued, replacing the sobriety coin. “For everything. I mean that.”

“It’s what partners are for, Cold,” Phillip replied. He stepped forward and put one foreleg around Cold Case; the chief stiffened in surprise for several moments, then smiled and patted Phil on the back.

Phil released her and turned to Daring. “I’m not hugging her,” Daring instantly said.

“Good, because I wasn’t offering,” Cold replied with a frown. The two mares stared at each other for a moment, then both of them smiled slightly.

“You’re a good mare, Daring Do,” Cold Case said, extending a hoof.

“Same to you,” Daring replied, shaking it firmly.

Cold snatched an anzac biscuit from the table and bit into it, letting out an appreciative hum as the cookie crunched deliciously. “You two going to make a speech?”

“Nah,” Daring replied. “We’ve already said what we were going to say.”

“Good. I hate wedding speeches,” Cold said.

“Me too,” Daring nodded.

Phillip looked about the room, his smile fading as he let out a soft sigh. “I just wish Trace and Mavri were here,” he whispered.

Daring bowed her head as a wave of grief washed over her, the faces of their lost friends floating before her eyes; in the back of her mind, she noticed that for once, she did not hear the scream.

“They are here,” Joyful Sound said from behind them. “The ones we love, so long as we remember them, are never really gone.”

“Thanks, Joy,” Phillip smiled.

“And neither of them would’ve wanted you to be moping on your wedding day,” Joy added with a smile. “Now get into that cake so the rest of us can have some!”

“Great minds think alike,” Daring declared, taking the cake knife from its platter.

The next hour was a blur of food and music and conversation, of congratulations and hugs and photographs and laughter and tears. The rain pattered against the window throughout, a comforting background beneath the night’s music.

As the celebration started to wind down and quiet, Phil and Daring both found themselves standing at the window, looking out into the rainy shadows of their city, their own reflections staring back at them.

“What’s on your mind?” Daring asked her husband, noting the grim line that his face was drawn into.

Phillip sighed. “Tomorrow, there’ll be work to do,” he said, seeming to be musing out loud rather than truly speaking to her. “Crime. Bad guys.” He paused. “Monsters.”

Rolling Thunder’s voice echoed in the back of Daring’s mind: “You’ve faced terrible things, we know. And we fear that worse things are coming.”

Daring closed her eyes and took a breath, tuning out the chattering of the crowd behind her, focusing instead on the rhythm of the rain against the wall, the soft hiss of the wind, blending with the soft rising and falling of her breath. For just one moment, she thought that she could hear a different sound behind it: a soft droning like a didgeridoo, a voice that sang in a language that she did not recognize, but that she knew spoke of love, of hope, that was telling her not to be afraid.

She opened her eyes and looked up to see Phillip opening his eyes and looking up towards the cloud-shielded sky, lowering one hoof from his Angkakert totem. Somehow, she knew that he had heard it, too.

“We’ve faced it all before,” Daring told him, taking Phillip’s hoof. “And we’ll keep facing it together. Us, and all of our friends. And, you know, our new kickass magical weapons.”

Phillip smiled and scoffed, then tilted her chin up to kiss her. “Daring, you’re a crazy mare, and I love you for it,” he chuckled.

“I know you do,” Daring grinned up at him.

“Phil, Daring,” Rara called, waving them over. “It’s time for your dance.”

Taking her foreleg, Phillip escorted her over to the dance floor, the guests surrounding them as the lights dimmed.

Rain’s didgeridoo introduced the song with a buzzing sigh as Phillip and Daring stood up on their hind legs, their eyes twinkling in the dark as they began to revolve. Siren Bliss leaned up the microphone and began to sing:

“You know I can’t smile without you…”

Daring rested her head against his shoulder, allowing him to guide her through the dance. His breath rustled her mane as he nuzzled her ears. She felt the loving gazes of their guests around them--her family was all here around her, surrounding her with the warmth of their love.

The world dissolved away. All that existed for her was this moment, this song, this family.

So she didn’t notice the raven that had flapped down through the clouds and landed upon the sill of the window. It cocked its head as it stared into the Apple Pie, one of its black eyes glittering unnaturally.

On a nearby rooftop, a figure in a hooded cloak stared down at the purple crystal in his hoof. The recording crystal projected a small image in front of him, showing him the interior of the tavern. He stared silently at the ghostly images, studying every face, every cutie mark.

His red eyes focused on the married couple in the center, their eyes closed as they slowly revolved. The eyes narrowed as they focused upon their target.

A brief flash of lightning lit up the southern sky and an angry crackle of thunder rolled through the sky. The cloaked figure ignored it, continuing to stare at the projection as the rain dripped off his hood, and down the pointed beak of the healer’s mask clipped to his belt.

His master had told him not to strike yet: they still had work to do, pieces to get into place, materials that the archeologist needed help finding. But soon, they would be ready to move. Which meant he needed to be ready as well.

Author's Note

Art by MiyaFlorDorada!

Love is in bloom, a beautiful bride, a handsome--wait, who's that?

Well, you'll just have to wait for the next story to find out! (Though some of the fans of my old series might have an idea!)

I was gonna wait til next week to publish this, but then I decided, "screw it." Y'all deserve to see this.

I hope you enjoyed this series and are looking forward to the next stories! Please leave your likes and comments to show me what you thought!

Case Fourteen, Chapter One: On Scaly Wings

Ponyville was used to unusual sights. A city of four hundred thousand creatures is guaranteed to have its share of strangeness on a regular basis, never mind the fact that it had, until last month, been ruled by a succession of crime lords.

However, a dragon strolling down Golden Oaks Street was definitely odd.

Heads turned as the orange dragon walked down the sidewalk past the enormous oak tree at the mouth of the street, glancing at the map that she’d pulled out of her backpack. Mothers pulled foals back into their homes with yelps of fright and doors slammed shut in her wake, shades snapping down over windows. The dragoness paused, glancing around in confusion and irritation before sighing and continuing on. “Ten-ten, ten-ten…” she mumbled to herself, checking the numbers of the houses that she walked past.

She finally paused in front of a two-story brown cottage with golden trim. “Ah, there we are!” she declared, replacing the map in her backpack and striding up to the door, which she knocked at, hard.

After a few moments, the door opened and an orange pegasus peered out the opening, his blue eyes widening in surprise. “Hello,” he nodded politely.

“‘Sup,” the dragoness replied. “Do Twilight and Spike live here?”

“Smolder!” a voice cried from inside and Spike rushed out the door past Flash, hugging the orange dragoness around the waist. Smolder smiled and patted Spike on the head.

“How you doing, little guy?” Smolder said. “Still haven’t molted?”

“Not yet, but we’re expecting it any day now,” Twilight said as she entered the hallway, telekinetically scooping up the morning Foal Free Press from the front step. “Good to see you, Smolder! Come on inside.”

“I, uh...take it you know this dragon?” Flash commented, stepping aside as Smolder entered, closing the door behind her.

“I see your detective training is paying off,” Twilight smirked, booping Flash and setting the newspaper on a side table as they proceeded into the sitting room. “This is Smolder. We knew her when we lived in Canterlot. She helped the Princesses and I make sure Spike was growing properly and gave us some advice on dragon growth. She's been a big help.”

“You’re just lucky Ambassador Krein took a liking to you, kid,” Smolder grinned, playfully punching Spike on the shoulder. “Babysitting wasn’t in the original job description when I signed up as his assistant.”

“Yeah, I know, dragons don’t do soft stuff,” Spike smirked and rolled his eyes as Smolder began to unpack her backpack, dumping notebooks and books written in Dragontongue over the study materials that Twilight and Flash had set out for the detective written test.

Amidst the spilled materials was a photograph of baby Spike sitting at a table holding up a plastic teacup for Smolder, who was wearing a turquoise dress, a tiara, and a smile as she poured tea into his cup. Twilight, wearing a pale yellow dress and hennin, was giggling from the other side of the table.

“Apparently, some dragons do,” Flash smirked as Twilight giggled.

Smolder let out a squawk and quickly snatched the picture back into her backpack. “You didn’t see anything!” she snarled at Flash, baring her pointed teeth. Flash gulped and quickly wiped his smile off his face, nodding rapidly.

“So how’s Krein doing?” Spike asked.

“Could be better,” Smolder admitted, opening up the book on dragon development.

“Why?” Twilight asked. “Is something happening in the Dragonlands?”

“Nah; most exciting thing going on over there is Princess Ember fending off would-be suitors.” Smolder stuck her tongue out and jammed her finger in her throat, gagging loudly to express her opinion of it all. “No, the big issue right now is in Canterlot.”

“What’s going on?” Spike asked.

“Some dragons in Canterlot are disappearing,” Smolder explained, putting her talons in her lap. “More than a dozen in the past five months. The police are looking into it, but they’re coming up with nothing. Not that they’re being much help,” she added with a grumble.

“Why not?” Flash asked. “If they’re anything like Ponyville used to be, then—”

“It’s not that,” Smolder interrupted. “There’s been a spree of bank robberies in Canterlot, and the police suspect a dragon, so they’re cracking down on the dragon neighborhoods.”

“Why do they suspect a dragon?” Twilight asked with a frown. “What evidence do they have?”

“Well, there is that,” Flash commented, picking up the Foal Free Press and holding up the picture that his eyes had fallen upon.

Twilight and Spike both stared in disbelief at the photograph. It showed the facade of the First Equestrian Bank, according to the gold lettering over the doorway.

Or rather, over the massive, jagged hole where the door used to be. The massive ten-foot-tall door, made of iron with bars over its windowed center, lay on the ground next to the marble steps, having been ripped from the hinges and flung aside to allow access to the bank. Police officers stood on either side of the staircase, holding back a curious crowd as a pair of plainclothes officers ducked underneath the crime scene tape cordoning off the area.

“Superstrong Stealer Strikes Again!” read the headline.

"Who wrote that?" Flash asked, his brow furrowed in befuddlement.

Twilight took up the paper and started to read through the article. “According to this, that was the fifth bank hit in three months,” she reported. “Just like the other ones, the robber or robbers ripped the front door and the vault door open, stole several bags of bits and gems, then took the recording crystal from the security room. There was no trace of magic spells being used at the scene...police have not announced any suspects…”

“See, the cops think that only a dragon would be strong enough to rip open a vault door like that without a spell,” Smolder replied. “So they’ve been cracking down on the dragons, prying for suspects. They weren’t on good terms with dragons anyway, and this is just making it worse.”

“I mean, I’d suspect a dragon, too,” Flash mused. “I mean, no other creature is strong enough tooooo....I should shut up now, shouldn’t I?” he asked, looking up to find the other three all glaring at him.

“That would probably be a good idea,” Twilight stated.

“And if the dragons don’t trust the cops to help them with these disappearances, who are we gonna ask for help?” Smolder asked, flinging her claws up in frustration.

Spike, Twilight, and Flash all exchanged looks. “We might have an idea,” Twilight said.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

He exhaled sharply with every punch, his hooves hammering into the heavy bag with a steady rhythm. Jab-cross, hook. Jab, body shot, elbow. Cross, double elbow, clinch into knee strike. He drove his knee up again and again with a convulsive motion, like a sharp cough. If the bag was a foe, every strike would send them doubling over, wheezing and coughing.

Unless it was...

Phillip Finder paused, recovering his breath. No. Don’t think about that. He’s dead. Phillip leaned against the bag, mopping sweat off his brow with his gray t-shirt as he tried to banish the images from his head.

Forget the red sky. Forget the black eyes. Forget the way its voice gurgled as it laughed...

“You all right?” Daring Do asked, dropping down from the exposed pipe that served as a pull-up bar. She wiped her sweaty face with a foreleg, briefly hiding the entrenched shadows that were carved around her haggard rosy eyes.

“I’m fine,” Phillip grunted, shaking his head as he shook out his forelegs. He started punching the bag again, adding in ducks and weaves as he avoided the imaginary enemy’s attacks. Daring watched him for a second, then dropped to the floor and started doing wing-ups.

“Phil?” a voice called down the stairs. “There’s a client at the door.”

Something stabbed Phillip in the chest and his breath hitched hard. He staggered against the bag, sucking in air for a moment.

“Okay, dad,” he called. He mopped off more sweat and started up the stairs. Daring followed him, her face fixed masklike as she studied his back. She tread lightly on her right foreleg; a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth with every step was the only indication of pain that she allowed herself to give.

Bobby Baseline was waiting at the top of the stairs for them, an eager smile on his face. “Here’s the stallion and the mare themselves!” he announced, gesturing to Phillip and Daring like a circus ringmaster introducing the center act.

Both Phillip and Daring blinked in surprise at their client. The orange dragonness, by contrast, looked decidedly unimpressed. “So he’s the bigshot detective who took down that big crime boss?” she asked Spike, who was standing next to them.

Zugzwang. He took down Zugzwang...Zugzwang, with the black eyes and—

Stop it, Phillip ordered himself, taking a few deep breaths to try to erase the crushing pain in his chest at the thought.

“I know, they’re awesome,” Spike replied with a grin.

“Thanks, dad,” Phillip said, dismissing his father with a wave. Bobby retreated out the back to where Rain Rhythm was sitting on the porch in her wheelchair, enjoying the sun on her face.

Phillip beckoned Smolder to the long green sofa where clients sat as he and Daring both collapsed onto the pair of old couches opposite the coffee table with the chessboard. Smolder glanced around the room as she sat down, taking in the overstuffed bookshelf, the battered but well-polished saxophone on the stand next to the stacks of records and the record player, and the table littered with chemistry equipment and experimental notes.

“So, you here to enjoy the scenery?” Daring asked with a quirked eyebrow as Spike climbed up next to Smolder. “I’m kinda reaching here, but something tells me you’re not from Ponyville.”

“Name’s Smolder,” the dragoness replied. “I’m from Canterlot; I work for Ambassador Krein, Speaker of the Dragons.”

“So what’s a high-roller like you doing in our humble abode?” Daring asked.

“I’m here because Spike and Twilight suggested you,” Smolder explained. “We’ve got a problem up in Canterlot.”

Smolder proceeded to give an explanation of the situation, detailing the disappearing dragons, the superstrong bank robber, and the tense relations between the dragons and the police. Phillip and Daring listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with a question.

“It’s been more than a dozen dragons that have disappeared, starting about three months ago.” Smolder scowled bitterly. “No one except us dragons gives a damn,” she growled to herself.

“That’s not true,” Spike protested, placing a claw on her forearm.

Smolder paused for a moment, then sighed. “The last dragon who disappeared...she was a friend of mine.”

She pulled a photograph out of her backpack and handed it to Phillip and Daring. The picture was of a dark green dragon whose scales looked like they were made of solid rock, grinning up at the camera with twinkling brown eyes. She was holding up a hunk of granite, which appeared to have a large bite taken out of it; small specks of stone clung to the dragon’s sharp teeth.

“Her name is Kreidol,” Smolder stated. “She’s a stone dragon, came over here hoping to get a job in construction. She vanished four days ago, right when she was about to start her new work.” She let out a noise that was partially a sigh, partially a growl as she took the picture back. “I’ve looked for her everywhere I can think of. Nothing.”

“They can find her,” Spike reassured her, gripping her forearm comfortingly.

“Wait a minute,” Phillip said with a frown. “You said that the dragon disappearances started three months ago?”

“You sure you’re a detective?” Smolder asked.

“Smolder!” Spike chastised.

Phillip and Daring glanced at each other. “Those bank robberies started about three months ago,” Daring mused. “I remember reading about them in the papers.”

Smolder’s eyes brightened a bit. “So you have some idea how they’re doing it?”

“No,” Phillip said. “Mistake to theorize before you have evidence. We’ll have to—”

He paused and swallowed, wincing as a stabbing pain raced across his chest.

“We—”

The pain increased, like somepony was shoving a crowbar into his chest. He curled up into himself, trying to suck in deep breaths to calm his frantically pounding heart. His hooves clenched the armrests, grip tightening so much that the wood cracked.

“Phil, you okay?” Spike asked, concern flashing across his face. His voice sounded distant and echoing, like Phillip was trapped in a well.

“Phil?” Daring called, gently shaking his shoulder.

He gasped at the touch, twisting and shoving the grasping tentacle off him as the cold acid bit into his skin. It took him a second to recognize that it was just Daring, who was now backing up with her hooves raised. “Easy, easy,” she urged.

Phillip took in a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he forced the pain down, forced his hooves to unclench, ignoring the way his innards squirmed and writhed beneath his skin.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to put force into his words in place of conviction. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe I should get somepony else to help,” Smolder said, looking increasingly skeptical.

“No, we’ll help,” Daring said firmly, rising. “Dragons or ponies, there are creatures that need our help.”

“Great!” Spike cheered.

Smolder thought for a moment, then shrugged. “If you’re sure, sure as hell won’t hurt.” She stood and stretched. “There’s a train back to Canterlot around noon. I’ll meet you there.”

“Bye, Daring, Phil!” Spike said, waving as he and Smolder exited. The door closed behind them.

“Phil, what is it?” Daring asked sharply, staring at Phillip. Bobby and Rain both reentered, their faces creasing in concern as they studied their son.

Phillip’s mane was matted and spiky, sweat shimmering atop his head. His gray eyes were dull, shadows beneath the orbits. He was currently staring down at his clenched knees, hugging himself loosely as he tried to take slow, even breaths.

“I’m fine,” he grunted through the pain of his crushing ribs and burning lungs.

“You’re not fine,” Bobby said plainly. “Neither of you. You’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating—”

“Wow. It seems detective work really does run in the family,” Daring commented to Phillip with a facsimile of a smile.

Phillip scowled at her, then at his parents. “I said I’m fine,” he grunted, rising.

“Ampa, please,” Rain said, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Just—”

Phillip shoved her off, then stamped down the hallway, passing by the green vest and gray trilby hanging up on the coat rack. “I’m going on a walkabout. I need air,” he called, opening the door.

“Phil!” Rain called as she tried to urge her wheelchair forward, but Daring held out a branded hoof, stopping them. She shook her head, dull eyes peering out of the pallid mask that was her face as the door slammed shut.

Author's Note

And a warm welcome back to you, reader! Hope that you've been looking forward to this as much as I have: a chance to spread our wings and explore more of Noire Equestria!

Things aren't looking so hot for Finder and Do, are they? Tough as they are, they've still got a long way to go to heal from what Zugzwang did to them last time. Maybe a new case to snap them out of their funk will be what they need.

Like what you read? Leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Fourteen, Chapter Four: A Taste for Mystery

There was indeed a marble fountain at the corner of Puddinghead and Smart Cookie, a pure white construction featuring an earth pony, pegasus, and unicorn cavorting amidst the running water.

“This way,” Phillip said, turning down the cobbled side road, with Daring and Smolder following. They proceeded down a street that was populated primarily by brick and slate retail and office buildings of humble size and decoration.

“You sure we shouldn’t call the police on this?” Smolder asked as they proceeded through the thin crowds of pedestrians who milled on the sidewalks in the early evening red glow.

“Every witness we talked to mentioned something that ties to this place. We want to take a closer look at it first,” Daring said as both she and Phillip dropped a couple of bits into an empty coffee cup being held by a bearded gray unicorn sitting against the wall of a small clothing store.

“Right,” Phillip nodded, hoping that maybe some speech would wet his suddenly dry throat, would relieve some of the pressure that was squeezing his chest.

A few steps more and there it was: 102 Smart Cookie Lane. It proved to be a two-story edifice with a glass door, just another quotidian edifice amidst the street. The interior of the room was dark, and a brief test of the door proved that it was locked. Pressing her nose up against the glass, Daring saw that the room was populated only by a few old desks, a glass display set that was currently empty, and some chairs.

“Doesn’t look like anypony’s used this place in a long time,” she mused out loud.

“Oh, that place used to be a nice little jewelry store,” a passing mare in a long cloak commented. “But the owner died a few moons ago and it folded. It’s been for rent ever since then, but no one’s bought it as far as I know.”

“Thanks,” Phillip nodded to the mare as she continued on her day.

“So why the hell were Kreidol and Geode both sent here?” Smolder asked.

“There’s a bit of tape on the door here,” Phillip commented, pointing at the little bit of adhesive still clinging to the interior of the window.

“Maybe someone took down the For Rent sign,” Daring mused.

“Let’s check the side entrance,” Phillip said. The tension was still there, but it had faded into background noise, easily ignored, and he could ascribe the dry throat to the humidity of the city evening. There was work to do now.

The side entrance was accessible from a surprisingly wide alleyway that was inhabited by a couple of dumpsters and layers of graffiti on the wall. The side door was solid steel with a pick-resistant lock and narrow handle.

Phillip and Daring both paused, studying the alleyway for anything of note before Daring proceeded to the door. She tried the handle and satisfied herself that it was locked. “The lock is unmarked,” she reported, studying it with Phil’s magnifying glass. “No one’s picked it; in fact, I don’t think this door has been opened in a long time.”

Her gaze was attracted by some odd marks in the wall next to the door. “Phil, take a look at those,” she pointed.

Phillip bent down to take a closer look. “These look like...claw marks,” he said, studying them with the aid of a tape measure. “Four marks...dragon. Looks like they were dragging their hand down the wall here.”

He followed the trail down to the ground and frowned, pawing at the sediment on the ground. “Coal dust, tobacco, and asphalt...this isn’t dust,” Phillip murmured, bending down close to the ground. He used the side of his pocket knife to sweep some pale off-white motes that lay on the ground into an envelope.

Daring took a closer look at them. “I think...yup. Those are spent nightpoppy spores,” she reported. “Harmless now, but that’s a lot of spores.”

“What is nightpoppy?” Smolder asked from her position at the mouth of the alley.

“It’s a magical plant,” Daring explained. “When it’s agitated, it releases spores that send anycreature nearby into a deep sleep, but the spores are only good for a few minutes.”

“You used them in the Family?” Phillip said in an undertone.

Daring frowned a bit, scuffing her right hoof against the floor, where the cursed brand stung at her. “A few times,” she mumbled. “They can take out an entire building, but you have to be really careful with them; they’re very sensitive. That, and they only grow in dirt from a mountain forest mixed with ashes.”

Phillip noticed her scuffing her hoof and briefly took her hoof. “It was in your past, Daring,” he whispered. “You—”

“Leave it,” Daring grunted, yanking her hoof away. “Focus on the case.”

Phillip paused for a moment, then looked around, spotting a side alleyway. “That’s wide enough to hide a truck,” Phillip mused. “My guess; whoever lured the dragons here hit them with the nightpoppy, then dragged them off. Somedragon made those marks when they fell.”

“Makes sense to me,” Daring nodded.

Smolder gritted her teeth and rushed into the alley. She started looking frantically around, pawing at the ground, the walls, eyes darting about everywhere for any clue, any sign.

“Smolder, stop,” Phillip said, gently pushing her back.

“There’s got to be something here!” Smolder cried, trying to shove him off, but he gently deflected all of her shoves. “Some clue, some trail or—”

“We will find it,” Phillip said gently, directing her out of the crime scene. “Just give us time, all right?”

Smolder stomped her foot. “Kreidol has been missing for two days now! We’ve already wasted hours, we don’t have time!”

“Smolder, listen to me,” Daring said, taking over for Phil. “We are doing everything we can, but it’ll take time.”

Smolder growled, then flapped off. “I’m going back to the Embassy, talking to Krein. At least then I’ll feel like we’re accomplishing something.” She disappeared over the rooftops.

Daring sighed and shook her head. “She’s scared and confused,” she mused out loud.

“Can you blame her?” Phillip asked, still checking the ground around the wider side alley. “Hang on, got something here.”

He bent down closer to an oil stain on the ground, pulling out a magnifying glass. “There’s a partial tire track in the ground here,” he said. “It looks like the same track that Ace showed us.”

His eyes panned over to the opposite wall. “Scratch mark here,” he said, walking over and pointing to the brick wall where a thin scratch, no wider than an inch and a couple of feet off the ground. A small piece of red plastic was embedded into the brick, amidst a faint layer of light gray paint.

“The scratch is arced down,” Phillip said. “Seems like somepony was opening the tailgate on a truck and scratched the edge against the wall here.”

“You think it’s a Chevroneigh 1948?” Daring asked.

“Can’t be sure,” Phillip said, using a tape measure to measure how high above the ground the scratch mark was. “Bet Trace would—”

He froze for a moment, the realization reflecting dully in his eyes, and he mopped his face with a hoof. Daring planted a hoof on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, shaking his head.

“Let’s get the police down here,” he muttered, rising.

“So,” Hidden Ace said a half-hour later, mopping a thin layer of sweat from his brow. “In just one day, you manage to make more headway in two cases than we have in months.”

“We do have a reputation for a reason,” Phillip commented.

Ace glanced over at the alley and the front of 102 Smart Cookie, which was now secured with Crime Scene tape. A crime scene technician was studying the ground with a tracking wand, casting the entire ground into shades of scarlet.

“There’s a lot of tracks here, detective,” the technician reported. “But I can definitely make out dragon prints coming up this way and tire tracks over here.” He twisted the glowing wand a few times, filtering out the tracks by casting the tire treads into a dark yellow.

“Yup, most of these are the same vehicle,” he said. “Can I see your photo of the tracks?”

Ace floated his picture over to the technician, who bent down closer to the glowing tracks. “I can’t be sure, since the tracks are all overlapping each other, but I think it’s the same truck.”

“Hmm,” Ace murmured. “So it seems that these are connected after all.” He glanced around. “Wonder where Paw Print is. She should be here.”

“What does Paw Print look like?” Phillip asked. “Might need to know if we see her again.”

“Unicorn mare, blue coat, blonde mane, cutie mark of a trio of dog paw prints,” Ace reported. “She’s got an earring of her cutie mark, too. Can’t miss her.”

“Noted,” Phillip said.

“Okay, we’re gonna wrap this up here,” Ace said. “We’ve already got more police patrols near the banks. We’ll keep you in the loop if we find anything of note. Thanks for the help.”

“Keep in touch,” Phillip said, briefly bumping his hoof against Ace’s. Daring declined, following Phillip off the crime scene.

As soon as they were out of sight, Daring glanced over her shoulder, then hissed into Phillip’s ear, “You know there’s a chance that he’s the one behind it, right?”

“Possibly,” Phillip conceded as they trotted past the marble steps of a modest white building with great glass doors, gilded gold, the same color that declared “Equestrian Amalgamated Trust” in three-inch high letters over the archway. “But even if his brother’s murder is sufficient motivation, clumsily framing some dragon is a bloody roundabout way to get revenge. And it doesn’t explain how he was somehow strong enough to tear open steel doors.”

Daring groaned and rubbed her slightly damp forehead. “All I know is, we need to get some food.” She paused, sniffing the air, then a broad grin crossed her face. “I smell Marwari.”

Phillip sniffed and smelled it, too: warm broth on his tongue and the sharp tang of spices scratching at his nostrils.

“This way,” Daring said, beckoning him on, bumping into a bearded unicorn wearing a single battered saddlebag. The two detectives followed their noses down several blocks and up a small side street and up to a restaurant. The storefront was painted in vivid orange, with accenting stripes around the purple-curtained windows. A red flower with an elephant embossed over it was painted over through the door.

“I haven’t had Marwari in so long,” Daring said, practically drooling as she entered, with Phillip behind.

The same flower and elephant symbol was displayed on the opposite wall, with more indigenous Marwari artwork hanging from the walls. Vividly colored curtains hung from the walls, lit by warm firefly lanterns. More lanterns sat on the low wooden tables, which were surrounded by cushions. Mouthwatering scents filled the room, wafting in from the kitchen, and a record in the corner was playing Marwari music, though Phillip detected the faint audio of a radio coming from the kitchen, which was separated from the rest of the restaurant by a beaded curtain.

“Welcome to the Tasty Treat!” an orange unicorn mare with a poofy fuschia mane and tail sang as she entered, the beads on her clothes jingling as she walked. “I am Saffron Masala, please be seated! Can I start you off with a drink?”

“Do you have aam panna?” Daring asked Saffron, who smiled and nodded. “Mango drink, great for hot nights,” Daring explained in response to Phillip’s querying look.

Since there were only a few customers inside, Daring and Phil chose a small table near the back of the room, where they could both watch the front door. Saffron floated over two tall glasses filled with a green liquid topped with mint leaves and a platter of small fried snacks.

“Vegetable pakora as an appetizer, and your drinks. I’ll be back in a bit to get your order,” she said, exiting with a small bow.

Daring licked her lips as she looked over the menu. “Oh, this is just what I needed.”

“I’ll have to pick up some recipes if I want to keep up, then,” Phillip said, experimentally dipping a pakora into the green sauce and taking a bite. Instantly, his mouth was filled with flavor, the hot, sharp spice of the pakora mixed with the smooth sweetness of the fruit chutney, and he failed to suppress a groan of delight. “Bugger, that’s good,” he said, devouring the rest of the fried snack in two bites.

When Saffron came back, Daring ordered rogan josh—caramelized lamb with spices—and Phillip asked for a dish of tandoori chicken marinated in yogurt. While they waited for their food to come, they sat back in their seats in silence.

“So what are you thinking?” Daring asked.

Phillip closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “A unicorn, evidenced by the fact that they somehow removed that lease sign from outside the building,” he mused out loud. “Somepony who knows how to work with exotic plants, so maybe somepony who uses potions.” He frowned, furrowing his brow. “That may be how he got the superstrength. They’re relatively smart…” He rubbed his face.

“But why take the dragons?” he asked. “Why rob banks? It’s beneath somepony who can do that.”

Daring glanced around, then leaned in and lowered her voice, despite the fact that the few other attendees were paying no attention to them. “You don’t think Kreidol is alive, do you?” she whispered.

Phillip was silent for several seconds, then shook his head. “Instinct tells me no,” he admitted.

“There’s something that’s been bothering me,” Daring said, “How’s he getting rid of the bodies? It’s hard enough to get rid of a pony body. A dragon body, especially an adult one, has to be harder to deal with. After a few months, somepony should have seen something.”

Phillip nodded slowly. “Good point,” he admitted. “He might be using a magical method for that, as well.”

A hissing of steam came from the kitchen and Saffron exited with a platter with several bowls of curry, passing them out to the delighted occupants of one table.

“Pointless to try to figure it out without evidence,” Phillip stated, closing his eyes.

“How you feeling?” Daring asked.

Phillip was quiet for a bit, then nodded. “Good,” he said. “Better than I have in a while, actually. I feel like I needed this, doing detective work.”

“Me too,” Daring said. “I felt trapped, waiting at home. Having something else to think about, being able to help somecreature, was a huge help.”

She looked over at the now-empty platter being taken back to the kitchen and licked her lips. “Some food will help, too,” she said.

“Seconded,” Phillip said.

They sat in a more comfortable quiet for a while, occasionally speaking of other things, of Canterlot and the Tasty Treat, of dragons, of past cases and adventures—anything but their current mystery. When their dinner finally came out, they dove into the entrees with great eagerness.

“Give me a taste of that,” Phillip said, jabbing his fork at the lamb meat floating in the red sauce.

“Trade you for that,” Daring said, looking over at the grilled chicken wing with the rice and yogurt sauce.

“Deal,” Phillip said, stabbing a particularly large string of lamb and placing it into his mouth. The firm, tender texture of the lamb carried the sweet tang of the caramel and he let out a delighted moan.

As Daring chewed her taste of chicken, there came the sound of the door opening. Phillip looked up to behold a blue unicorn with a short silver mane and the cutie mark of a star coming out of a test tube wearing a white saddlebag entering the store. The visitor paused at the door, wiping his face off with his foreleg.

But something called Phillip’s attention to the stallion, his eyes instinctively following the heavily breathing visitor as he proceeded to a single corner booth. Phillip took a long sip of his aam panna, ignoring the sharp tang of mixed mango and mint.

“What is it?” Daring whispered through another casual forkful of lamb.

The clues suddenly clicked in Phillip’s mind. “That stallion who just came in,” he said. “He’s the pony we bumped into outside the bank.”

“You sure?” Daring asked, studying the pony out of the corner of her eyes as Saffron bustled over to him.

“Same height, same build, same saddlebag,” Phillip recited.

“He doesn’t have the beard,” Daring pointed out.

“Notice the faint markings behind his ears,” Phillip said. “He was wearing a fake beard. And why is he breathing hard and sweating so much?”

The sound of a siren approaching intruded upon the music and chatter of the restaurant. A cruiser passed by outside the Tasty Treat, lights spinning and siren blaring. Several heads turned to catch a glimpse of the vehicle.

But Daring and Phillip were watching the new stallion. He’d remained still, but his green eyes were darting around everywhere, his shoulders suddenly tensing as he gripped the cup of chai tea he’d been given. Daring recognized the look of a pony who is suddenly taking stock of the exits.

A sound caught Phillip’s attention. Closing his mouth, he swiveled his ears towards the beaded curtain, listening to the voice on the radio coming from within.

“—again, we interrupt for an important news alert,” an announcer was saying. “An unknown assailant just attempted to rob the Equestrian Amalgamated Trust. It is believed that this robber may be the same robber who has struck several banks in the past months. A night guard saw the figure attempting to enter through a window and forced him to flee on hoof down the alley. The robber was a unicorn wearing a dark hooded cloak. Police are already scouring the local area for him, but all ponies are asked to be on the lookout for anything suspicious—”

Phillip took another bite of his chicken, keeping his gaze on the unicorn stallion. As he chewed, he raised a hoof to his eye, disguising the gesture as brushing his mane back behind his ear, and tapped the side of his head next to his right eye twice.

Daring recognized the silent signal: I have the target.

She nodded and scratched her nose: I see him, too.

The blue stallion relaxed slowly, but kept his head down and his green eyes alert as he sipped his chai. When Saffron came back, he just ordered a small platter of potato and vegetable squares, which he quickly devoured. Leaving some bits on the table, he left quietly as soon as he was done.

Leaving payment and a sizable tip on the table, Phillip and Daring both exited as well. As they proceeded out the door, they caught a glimpse of the blue unicorn walking quickly down the side street to their right. The detectives turned left and walked casually away.

The blue unicorn turned a corner, disappearing from sight. Daring took to the sky as Phillip jogged around the block. He paused behind the Tasty Treat, pressing his back against the wall. Taking out a small green hoof mirror, he peered around the corner and spotted his target in the reflection, fast approaching down the street.

Looking up, he confirmed that Daring was flying overhead; she pointed to her eye briefly to indicate that she still had him. Hiding behind a dumpster, Phillip pulled a small purple bag out of his vest: from this, he extracted a makeup kit and stencil, a ball cap and a pair of sunglasses. Stuffing his trilby and gray undershirt into the bag of holding, he donned the cap and sunglasses, reversed his vest to the blue interior and zipped it up loosely so that he could still reach his shoulder holster, and then used the makeup kit and stencil to cover his flanks with generic horseshoes.

His disguise complete, Phillip stepped out of the alleyway and crossed the street, pretending to study the mannequins in the window of the clothing store. In the reflection, he saw the blue unicorn walking down the shadowed sidewalk, his head lowered and his step quick. Daring was hovering overhead, peering down at him over the rooftops.

Phillip began to casually follow their target, keeping him in his peripheral vision. The unicorn suddenly paused and turned around, gaze sweeping back and forth.

No need to panic. He’d been through this before. Phillip kept walking, never slowing or faltering, turning to look straight ahead as if he was just another shopper checking out the wares on the way home.

The target kept moving past him, but Phillip noticed him checking in the store windows, probably not looking at the wares. The unicorn adjusted his saddlebags and marched on.

Phillip continued to the end of the block, then quickly sprinted around the block, doffing his cap and sunglasses. A quick glance up confirmed that Daring was still on the rooftop; she tapped her eye again to indicate that she still had the target. He paused at the corner, glancing around the edge to spot his target crossing the street, away from him. Another quick change of hat and glasses from the Bag of Holding and Phillip proceeded after him.

This could take all night, he thought to himself.

He was suddenly interrupted when the unicorn whirled around and glared right at him, green eyes blazing with hate. He froze, his heart leaping into his throat.

“I see you, detective!” the unicorn shouted, causing everypony in the street to stop and turn as the unicorn lunged at a parked motorbike on the street next to him. Before everyone’s astonished eyes, the grunting and snarling unicorn heaved the vehicle up over his head and threw it across the street at Phillip.

Phillip froze. The mass of deadly metal was tumbling through the air right at him, and all he could do was stare at his oncoming doom. His heart was pounding hard against his throat, but his limbs felt as if they were turned into granite. The spinning motorcycle blotted out the sun, casting him in shadow.

A golden angel streaked down from the sky and tackled him, knocking him out of the way as the bike crashed down onto the ground with a great cacophony, rolling over to smash into a storefront, sending glass spilling everywhere.

Daring set Phillip down on the sidewalk, drawing her revolver from her shoulder holster and taking aim. Reality snapped Phillip out of his daze and he swung his vest around to its green side, drawing his own revolver.

“Don’t move!” Daring barked at the unicorn.

The unicorn moved, charging right at them with a bellow. Daring and Phillip both opened fire, but their bullets merely cracked harmlessly off the conjured yellow shield that he projected in front of him. Seizing a street lamp, their foe yanked it out of the ground with a grunt and swung it like a baseball bat.

Daring shot up into the air, while Phillip hit the ground, rolling like a log as the steel lamp wooshed over his head. The unicorn grunted and slashed the lamp down at him like an ax. Phillip threw himself into an aerial cartwheel, the world spinning on its axis as the makeshift weapon missed.

His hoof darted to the pocket near his back and snapped out towards the upside-down unicorn in a trained motion even before he landed. His boomerang whistled through the air and cracked the unicorn right in the forehead between his furious emerald eyes. He staggered with a grunt, dropping the lamp with a clatter. Bolts of ochre energy zipped at Phillip, and he dove to one side, tumbling across the hard concrete, grimacing as the hot stone burned his flesh.

Daring rocketed down behind the mad unicorn and her kusarifundo snapped out, ensnaring his foreleg. "Ha!" she barked as she pulled the limb out straight and smashed her foreleg down onto the elbow joint. The blow should have shattered the joint with a crack like a tree limb, eliciting a screech of agony.

Instead, the unicorn shoved her back, sending her flying several feet with a surprised grunt of “Shit!” Daring landed hard and opened fire again as she wheezed, but her last two bullets merely bounced off the shield with musical pings. With a bellow like a steam engine, the blue stallion leaped up into the air.

“Whoa, fuck!” Daring shouted, quickly rolling out of the way as he came down like a jackhammer. The impact formed a small crater in the concrete where she’d been lying, sending dust flying into the air. The ground shuddered as if in terror, making Daring stumble. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phillip stagger, nearly dropping his baton as his charge was halted.

Then she saw a back hoof barreling at her face like a train. With a gasp, she dodged to one side, snapping her kusarifundo at her foe's supporting knee. She felt the weight crack into his knee, grinned as she heard him grunt and saw him buckle, lunged forward for the clinch.

And then she felt a sledgehammer crash into her chest, sending her flying into the air. Instinctively trying to grab onto something as the ground left her, Daring wound up seizing the unicorn's saddlebag, her momentum tearing it from his body; she thoughtlessly gripped it like a lifeline even as she tumbled across the air.

She remembered the brick wall behind her right before she smacked into it, the impact crushing the wind from her lungs. Daring blacked out before she hit the ground.

“Wandjina!” Phillip screeched as another spell rocketed at him. He felt the ward cover his body in a warm blanket just as the incantation reached him, smashing into his shield like a brick wall had suddenly charged into him. He stumbled, but snatched a smoke bomb out of his pocket and threw it at the unicorn. Daring’s new formula worked perfectly: a little bit of pegasus magic and thundercloud mixed with the potassium nitrate caused the bomb to go off with a crackle of lightning before covering his foe in smoke. Panting, Phillip lunged for his target's injured knee.

Coughing and choking, his red face drenched with sweat, the unicorn lunged blindly forward, right into Phillip's path. With no time to dodge the incoming cannonball, Phillip braced for impact, tightening his chest and turning to one side. Shitshitshit this is gonna hurt—!

The unicorn’s head smashed into Phillip’s obliques like a battering ram. Phillip was launched as if out of a cannon, flying back three yards before crashing onto the concrete and rolling several more feet before halting in a wheezing, gasping heap. He gulped like a fish that had been plucked from its tank, staring up at the orange sky.

The blessed howl of sirens caused the madpony to halt. He stood for a moment, hunched over and panting, staring at his groaning attackers, then turned and leaped. His jump launched him up to the third-story landing of a fire escape ladder, which he clambered up with a grunt. The robber sprinted up the ladder and over the rooftops, disappearing from sight just as the first police cruisers pulled up to the curb with screeching tires, officers bustling over to assist the gasping Phillip Finder and the feebly stirring Daring Do.

Finder stared after his foe, fighting to get his breathing under control as a mare officer soothingly urged him to calm. Somewhere in the back of his racing mind, he realized that his hooves were shaking.

Author's Note

Marwari, for the record, comes from a breed of Indian horse.

So our mystery foe reveals himself! How are our heroes going to deal with this one?

Leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed!

Case Fifteen, Chapter Seven: Freshly Printed

“I’d been gathering evidence on Eagle Trust for the past several moons,” Gold Signature mumbled, staring into the paper cup of cold coffee that he clasped in his hooves, hunched over the table of Red’s office. “Copies of contracts, little notes, payments that proved that they’d been cheating our clients…” He sighed and mopped his brow, sniffling. A glance up at the clock ticking away in the corner.

“Quick was the one who inspired me to fight back,” he mumbled, blinking heavily. “For years, I was content to just keep my head down and do my job if it got me a paycheck and kept me off the street and alive. Didn’t matter to me that other ponies were losing their homes, having their savings leached away...mean, so long as it wasn’t me.

“But Quick Step, she saw there was something better in me,” he continued with a feeble smile. “Gave me hope that since Monopoly and Silvertongue were gone, maybe I could do something. So I started building up evidence, piece by piece. She didn’t know: I figured that if she didn’t know, she wouldn’t be targeted.”

He paused and took a sip of the coffee, glancing up at Red Herring sitting across the table from him, backlit by the light of the stars and the glowing cityscape. “So what happened yesterday morning?” Red asked, glancing down at the tape recorder sitting atop the cluttered desk, its wheels slowly turning.

“I realized that they were onto me when I saw a truck following me around for the past couple of days,” Gold explained. “I figured it was time to head to the police, but I wanted to make sure I knew who I could trust first.” He rubbed the back of his mane and sniffled. “I hid my stuff at the Bawdy, figuring I could have Quick get it for me later...but when I found out she was dead, I…”

Gold broke down into sobs, tears dripping into his coffee. Red leaned forward and patted the stallion on the shoulder, rubbing his foreleg.

“If I’d gone to you sooner…” Gold Signature choked out.

“Quick’s death wasn’t your fault,” Red reassured him. “And we’ll find the bastard who killed her.”

“Was it one of the Eagle Trust hitponies?” Gold asked, looking up. “Was it...was it meant for me…?”

“We have our best detectives on it,” Red smiled at him. “They’ve already got a lead.”

Daring and Phillip walked slowly up the steps of Twenty-Eight Morgana Avenue, rounding the landing of the second floor. Daring’s eyes panned over to the door of number 15, which was still sealed with yellow Crime Scene tape, and she let out a sigh.

“Poor Gold,” she said. “I can’t imagine this is gonna make him feel any better.”

“It rarely does,” Phillip admitted. “But we still need to do it.”

They proceeded down the hall to the door marked number 18 and knocked. The blue hippogriff with the silver mane answered, blinking in surprise. The sound and scent of grilling fish wafted out of the room through the open door.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Pearl Lake, right?” Phillip asked, the mare nodding in confirmation. “Is Honey Melody here?”

“Yeah,” Pearl replied, stepping back to allow them entry.

Honey’s apartment was practically a copy of Quick Step’s: the same sitting room, the same combination kitchen-dining room, the same doors leading to the bathroom and bedroom. A large salmon was currently spread across the kitchen counter, expertly filleted, with several pieces sizzling merrily away in a pan.

Honey Melody was stationed at the grill, adding spices and sauces from a saddlebag on the dining room table. She looked up at Phil and Daring’s entry and her eyes narrowed. Dropping the items, she marched over to the sitting room.

“Tell me you found out who killed Quick,” she hissed. “Was it one of those Eagle Trust bastards?”

“We think we know who did it,” Phillip confirmed. “But we need to be sure.”

“And you need to start being upfront with us,” Daring added, glaring at Honey.

“Wh-what?” Honey cried, taking a half-step back. “I’ve already told you everything!”

“You were her next-door neighbor,” Phillip said evenly. “You had a motive, opportunity.”

“I didn’t do it!” Honey shouted. “She was my best friend, I--!”

“There’s a fish market near here that you’ve gone to,” Daring interrupted, snatching up a paper bag with a logo of a woven basket with a fish and a loaf of bread inside. “You think we can’t put the pieces together?”

Honey’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a beached fish, her desperate, tearful eyes darting from face to face in a futile search for an escape. Pearl Lake hovered silently nearby, wingtips fluttering as thoughts churned behind her silvery-blue eyes.

“You’re going to have to come down to the precinct and answer some questions,” Phillip said. “I suggest you get a lawyer.”

“W-wait,” Honey pleaded. “I--”

“She didn’t do it!” Pearl Lake cried out.

Everypony turned to the hippogriff, who stood for a moment, beak hanging agape. For a moment, Pearl just stood silently, half-formed words stumbling their way out of her throat, then sighed and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath like the last gasp of a condemned pony facing the firing squad.

“I did!” she admitted. “I killed Quick Step!”

Honey Melody looked like she’d been struck in the face with a sledgehammer, her jaw hanging open and her eyes widening so much that they seemed to almost completely engulf her face. “P-Pearl…?” she whispered.

“You deserved to be the headliner,” Pearl told Honey, tears dripping from her eyes. “Quick only won because Petina liked her ass, we all knew it! I figured if she was out of the way, you’d win the headliner position! I set up the trap myself and set it outside her door after you went to sleep.” She whimpered and swallowed, reaching up to stroke Honey’s face. “I...I know you liked her, but I did it for you, Honey. I knew you wanted that position so much, you earned more than she did! You--”

Honey’s face turned from shock to rage in an instant and she struck Pearl across the face, the sound of the slap echoing sharply through the room.

“She was my best friend, you bitch!” Honey shrieked. “How could you?! Why would you ever think I would want this?!”

Pearl sobbed brokenly and looked up at Phillip and Daring, who returned her tearful countenance with impassive stares. “...you already knew, didn’t you?” she whimpered.

“We checked the culinary school you went to,” Daring confirmed. “Turns out they were missing a couple of flying porcupines.”

“Sorry about baiting you,” Phillip said to Honey. “We figured it was the best way to get her to confess.”

Honey swallowed and nodded briefly, tears glimmering in her eyes. “I think I need to be alone for a bit,” she croaked out, turning away and heading for the bedroom.

“Honey…” Pearl feebly called out, reaching for the mare, but Honey ignored her, slamming the door shut on them. The hippogriff hung her head in defeat, tears falling silently from her face as Phillip and Daring escorted her out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out into the cold fall night, where a cruiser stood waiting.

Phillip smiled as he studied the evening edition of the Foal Free Press. Splashed across the front page was the headline ”Eagle Trust CEO Arrested for Corruption!” Beneath it was the delicious sight of Bottom Line, the ink-black stallion being led out of his corporation in hoofcuffs, his gray mane adorned in sweat and his face creased in deep-seated worry.

“Red told me that Bentley and most of the other wankers are already making plea deals,” he smirked, turning to Daring.

“Guess that money can’t buy loyalty, either,” Daring chuckled, taking a victorious puff on her cigarette and leaning back against the banister of the deck. “Ah, that felt good.”

“It did,” Phillip agreed, looking down at the newspaper. He turned the page and studied a photograph on the second page: Autumn Blaze, smiling eagerly up at the reader. Next to the photo was a smaller headline: “Freelance Writer Helps Detectives Expose Corruption!”

“You know, she’s raw as hell, but this wouldn’t have been as easy without her,” Phillip admitted.

“Yeah. We should call her next time we go up against a dozen bad guys,” Daring grinned.

A shout of laughter came from inside the house. “Speaking of whom,” Daring said, snubbing her cigarette on the banister as she and Phillip headed back inside.

Autumn Blaze herself was sitting opposite Bobby and Rain, all three of them laughing uproariously. “And then when I came home, my little ankle-biter was rolling around on the floor with the boxing mitts stuck to his hind legs!”

“Dad!” Phillip cried in horror, his face turning crimson as the mares all howled in amusement.

“Sorry, son,” Bobby grinned. “But she was asking about what you were like as a child, and I just had to tell her.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on writing about that little tidbit,” Autumn reassured Phillip. “I just thought it’d be interesting for my readers to know more about the city’s greatest detectives.”

She hopped up off the couch and seized both Phil and Daring in a hug before either of them could protest. “Thanks for all the help!” she cried. “Without you, we wouldn’t have stopped Bottom Line and Eagle Trust!”

“Hey, it was a team effort,” Daring said, shrugging out of the hug. “But next time you wanna go mob hunting, call us first, alright?”

“Definitely!” Autumn chirped. “Look me up at the Heavenly Bawdy sometime! Petina offered me a job as a dancer there!”

“That’s great,” Daring nodded. “And hey: stay in touch with Honey Melody. I’m sure she needs a friend, now more than ever.”

“I will,” Autumn nodded with a sad smile. “Oh, and...thanks. For not being scared of me.”

“No worries,” Phillip said.

“G’day!” Autumn chirped, giving them all a wave as she exited.

“That doesn’t mean goodbye!” Phillip called after her, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and Daring,” Rain added, wheeling herself over to a table and lifting up a package. “This came for you. It’s from Canterlot.”

Daring’s ears perked up and she snatched the paper-wrapped package, tearing off the wrapping. “Yes!” she cried happily when she saw the contents: a light green book, the cover adorned with the image of a dark blue pegasus mare adorned in a vest and fedora, grinning through her red and white mane as she clutched a double-headed sapphire idol clearly stolen from the jungle temple she stood before.

“Compass Rose and the Sapphire Stone,” read the cover in golden letters, and beneath, the author’s name: “A.K. Yearling.”

“Velvet got the design ready!” Daring let out a delighted whoop, hugging the book to her chest and spinning around in a circle before collecting herself.

“Congratulations!” Rain said, hugging her.

“Crikey,” Phillip breathed, admiring the cover.

“Loosely based on a true story,” Daring admitted with a grin. “Here’s hoping I don’t get roped into doing an autograph session or something.”

“Give it here,” Bobby said. “I’ve been looking forward to reading this.”

The four curled up on the couch as Bobby opened up the book and began to read aloud, transporting them to a distant jungle where mystery and adventure awaited.

Author's Note

Let's put a bow on this one!

I'm pretty proud of how this case turned out; it was nice to get Noire back to its roots for a little bit, even channel some of the original Phillip Finder stories into this. I hope that you enjoyed this and will enjoy the next one! Leave a like and a comment to show your support!

Case Seventeen, Chapter Three: Nightmares of the Survivor

Thirty-Nine Striga Lane proved to be a simple cottage of silvery stone that sat on the side of the road, separated from its neighbors by the generous size of its lawns and the giant hedges that marked its boundaries. The comfortable image was ruined by the bright yellow tape stretched across the doorway, black lettering reading “Scena Del Crimine: Non Attraversare” stamped on it. The front door, it turned out, was hanging ominously open, fragments of the frame and latch visible on the floor.

A Crystal gendarme stood post at the doorway, his light purple and white uniform pristine and his cap with the snowflake emblem pulled low to shade his eyes. He looked up as he saw the group approaching, quirking an eyebrow at the motley arrangement of four ponies and a small dragon riding atop the unicorn signora’s back.

“Mi dispiace, non puoi entrare,” he declared, holding up a hoof.

“He says we can’t come in,” Twilight translated. “Per favore, signore, questi sono gli investigatori Do e Finder e Sentry di Ponyville.”

“Siamo qui per aiutare,” Daring told him, thrusting Cadance’s scroll at him. “Per ordine dell'imperatrice.”

His eyes bulging as he recognized the detectives, the constable took the note and scanned it, then nodded mutely and handed it back. “Maresciallo!” he called into the open doorway.

A sunshine yellow crystal unicorn approached from within, brushing her pearl-colored mane back behind one ear and studying the visitors with her intelligent eyes the color of moonstone. She wore a gendarme’s uniform minus the cap with two silver bars on the sleeves and her cutie mark was a magnifying glass over a green gemstone.

“Detectives Finder and Do,” the mare nodded to them. “I am Marshal Facet. Can I help you?”

“We’re here to help you,” Phillip said. “The Empress wants this one solved right quick.”

“I see,” Marshal Facet nodded, studying the scroll with the wax seal. “Royal decree or not, we’d be honored to have you helping.”

“Didn’t find any hoofprints?” Phillip commented, studying the floor, bare save for the splinters that remained of the door.

“No,” Facet shook her head. “We did find an unusual substance on the floor, though.” She held up an evidence bottle filled with a dark blue powder.

“It was spread over the floor going from the study down the hall to the sidewalk,” she explained. “It has some latent magic in it, but we’re not sure what’s in it or what it’s for...other than it seems to have erased the intruder’s hoofprints.”

“I might be able to figure out what it is,” Twilight requested, taking the bottle and studying it with her own eyes.

“Thank you, signora,” Marshal Facet nodded, glancing at the group. “I’d invite you inside to take a closer look, but as my mother always said, too many cooks spoil the broth.”

“She has a point,” Phillip nodded. “Some of us should also be checking on Moon and the other ponies in the team.”

“Flash and I can handle that,” Daring nodded.

“Blue Moon is currently at our headquarters for questioning,” Marshal Facet stated. “It’s on Altair Boulevard, three miles northeast of here.”

“Yes, I remember seeing it on a map,” Daring nodded. “Flash, c’mon. We’ll see you guys later.”

Flash bid Twilight goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, then flapped off after Daring, heading northeast towards the midmorning sun.

“Right, let’s take a butcher’s here,” Phillip said, ducking beneath the tape blocking the door.

He briefly studied the fractured doorway, noting the scorch marks on the jamb. “Looks like magical force,” he commented.

“Definitely,” Twilight agreed. “The completely even burn indicates a kinetic spell designed to break open the door. Definitely a unicorn.”

“Hey, look,” Spike said from his position on Twilight’s back, pointing at the keypad on the wall next to the door. “Is that an alarm system?”

“Yes,” Facet confirmed. “It went off in response to the door being broken at 2247 last night. Gendarmes responded within six minutes, but the intruder was gone by then.”

“Alarm sign on the front window,” Phillip commented, noting the sticker in the pane. “Intruder would’ve known about it.”

“That probably means that they had planned on the response time,” Twilight noted.

“Might want to check if there was a false alarm in this area before the break-in,” Phillip suggested to Facet. "Could've used that for recon."

“Good idea,” the Marshal nodded. “Come, let’s see the study.”

Professor Crystal Fossil’s study was a modest room, a great set of windows framing the hickory desk opposite the door; the cushioned chair was pushed back from the desk, and all the drawers and cabinets set into the wood remained open and empty. Twilight stared longingly at the great shelves stuffed full with books for a moment before returning her attention to the evidence, shuddering at the black stains of expirated blood on the crimson carpet, most of them surrounding the outline of a pony marked in tape on the floor.

“Whoa,” Spike breathed out, staring at the blood and tape, marking where a dead pony had once lain. “I’ve seen photos before, but this…”

“Easy, Spike,” Twilight reassured him. “If this is too much, you can leave.”

Spike swallowed, but shook his head to refocus. “No, no, I’m good,” he said.

Marshal Facet pulled some photographs out of her saddlebag and handed them to Phillip. “This is the body as we found it,” she reported.

Phillip frowned at the images of the dead Crystal Fossil sprawled across the floor, eyes forever closed. He noted the circular burns on the stallion’s gut and on his forehead.

“Castfire weapon,” he commented. “Fossil was sitting behind the desk when the intruder came in. Intruder ran straight to the study and shot Fossil in the gut to disable him: he fell down here.” He indicated where the black bloodstains lay on the carpet.

“Fossil lay there dying for a little bit; bet the intruder interrogated him here, then finished him with a shot to the head,” Phillip continued. “Intruder then rifled through his desk, and left.”

“Sounds right to me,” Marshal Facet nodded. “What concerns me is where he got a castfire weapon in the first place.”

“If it’s not from the black market, then he might be a military member, possibly special forces: those are the ones most likely to have castfire weapons,” Twilight suggested. “I might be able to pick up traces of the shot…”

Sticking out her tongue in concentration, Twilight lit up her horn and waves of lavender magic began to spread out across the room. Before long, faint red sparkles began to appear in the air, tracing faint lines to mark where the magical projectiles had been fired: one shot from the door passing horizontally across the air to where it had struck Fossil, and another from the middle of the room, angled downward to where it had struck the professor in the head, penetrating through flesh and bone to end his life.

“Che storia,” Marshal Facet breathed, eyes wide with amazement. “You must teach us this spell!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Twilight said modestly. “Castfire weapons leave behind a lot of excess plasma in the air from the reaction in the crystal. If you rework Clover the Clever’s minutiae seeker spell and get it to resonate at the right frequency--”

“Uh, Twilight?” Spike interrupted, tapping her on the head to get her attention.

“Right, sorry,” Twilight said, shaking her head to refocus.

“Too high to be a pistol,” Phillip commented, noting how the second shot had come from almost four feet off the ground. He stood up on his hind legs and mimed holding a rifle down towards where Fossil’s head had lain, noting that the red sparkles came up next to his cheek. “Somepony with a longarm, taller than me: about four foot two, I’d guess.”

“Agreed,” Facet and Twilight both nodded as Spike quickly scribbled down some notes in a notepad.

“G’day,” Phillip muttered, moving over to the desk and crouching down next to the drawers. Pulling out a set of tweezers, he plucked at a small white hair caught in one of the drawer jambs. “From a beard. Our wanker got clumsy.” He sniffed at the hair. “Mmm...chewing tobacco. Smells like Lumber Bear brand.”

“Good find, detective!” Marshal Facet declared, producing a plastic bag for Phillip to drop his prize into as Spike quickly jotted down more notes into his notepad.

Next, Phillip dove into the trash can next to the desk. Pulling out several crumpled-up pages, he unfurled them and frowned at the writing: lots of random jumbles of letters, scribbled out words, and grids of letters.

“What’s this?” Spike commented. “Was he doing a lot of crossword puzzles?”

“No,” Twilight said. “This looks like he was trying to decode something. He was having a lot of trouble with it, too.”

Phillip and Facet continued their examination of the study, giving an occasional comment on some find, all of which turned out to be insignificant. “Only one hair,” Facet finally said. “Our intruder is quite skilled.”

“We’ve still learned a lot,” Phillip said.

“I assume the gendarmerie headquarters has a laboratory?” Twilight asked, holding up the vial of blue powder. “I want to try to analyze this.”

“Yes. Come, let us go,” Facet offered, beckoning them out of the house.

The gendarmerie was headquartered in a multistory blue building that sat on its own boulevard, towering over the neighborhood. Centered over the door was a large golden sign in the shape of the gendarmerie’s badge: a quartered shield with a snowflake in the center. The top left and bottom right quarters had a hoof crushing a serpent, while the other two quarters had a torch. Beneath was a scroll with the motto Nei Secole Fidele, “Loyal through the centuries.”

Daring and Flash passed through the revolving door and entered the large lobby, proceeding to the desk sergeant. Daring spoke briefly with the goldenrod mare, showing her Cadance’s scroll. The mare spoke with a commanding officer on the phone briefly, then nodded and told them to wait.

“So what do you think?” Flash asked as they strolled over to a small waiting area with cushioned chairs and a table with coffee and water dispensers.

“I’m wondering how many snakes live in a region where it’s snowy most of the year,” Daring said, scowling at a shield on the wall and trying not to think that the snakes being crushed were glaring at her.

“Not that,” Flash sighed.

“I’m trying not to come up with any theories until we know more,” Daring replied. “But what worries me is how that weapon ties into this. And that’s if it’s still at that temple like Blue Moon thinks it is.”

A pearl-colored unicorn with a lime-colored mustache that looked like it was trimmed with a slide rule and the cutie mark of a telescope approached them, the three silver bars on his sleeves polished to gleaming. “Captain Marshal Orrizonte,” he greeted the detectives. “How can I help you?”

“We need to speak with Blue Moon,” Daring said.

“Certainly,” the captain said, guiding them through a set of double doors into the interior of the headquarters. They proceeded up a flight of stairs and to a set of interrogation rooms. “He’s in there,” Orrizonte said, pointing. “We brought him in last night when we found Professor Fossil dead, and have been questioning him since this morning.”

Through the two-way mirror, the two detectives saw the midnight blue stallion sitting at the table, staring down at his hooves. His silvery mane hung down over his face, casting his scowling visage into shadow.

“Has he told you anything?” Flash asked.

“We’ve been asking him if he knows any former associates who might’ve wanted to attack him or Fossil,” Orrizonte said. “Unfortunately, all of the ponies he listed off are dead or in prison.”

“Maybe we’ll have better luck,” Daring said, heading for the door into the room.

Blue Moon looked up as the two detectives entered, his eyes widening in shock as he recognized Daring Do. He gulped as they sat down opposite him. “Cosa vuoi?” he asked.

“Parli Equestre?” Daring asked. Blue Moon shook his head no. “Okay, I’ll have to translate,” Daring said to Flash.

“We’re Detectives Daring Do and Flash Sentry,” Flash greeted him, with Daring relaying the message to Blue Moon. “The Empress has asked us to look into Professor Fossil’s murder.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Blue Moon immediately protested.

“We’re not saying you did,” Flash reassured him. “But do you have any ideas as to who might’ve done it?”

“No, none,” Blue Moon replied, shaking his head and staring at the table, running a hoof through his tangled mane.

“What about Professor Fossil’s research team?” Flash pressed. “The ones who were helping you find the temple.”

“I didn’t meet any of them,” Blue Moon replied. “The only pony I talked to about this was Professor Fossil himself. I was helping him with my journal.”

“What journal?” Daring asked.

Blue Moon swallowed, remaining silent for several seconds before finally sighing. “When I worked for...Sombra,” he mumbled, speaking to the table rather than to the other ponies, “I kept a journal of certain information, including the location of the temples where we worked on our weapons. It was all in a Vigenere cipher.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I didn’t remember the keywords for the cipher entries that he was working on. We were just working on figuring out where the temple was specifically.”

“What’s a Vigenere cipher?” Flash asked.

“I’ll show you later,” Daring replied.

“Where did Professor Fossil keep your journal?” Flash asked Blue Moon, Daring translating for him.

“I think he had it in his office at the university,” Blue Moon shrugged. “From what he told me, he and I were the only ones besides the Emperor and Empress who knew what we were really looking for; the other members of the team thought they were just excavating a temple.”

“Where exactly is the temple?” Daring asked.

Blue Moon shivered and winced. “The Bone Temple where the Mirror was built and where it’s kept…” He gulped. “The entrance is concealed in the Valley of Statues. Unfortunately, most of the statues were destroyed after the war, and I don’t remember specifically where the entrance was.”

“Why not?” Daring asked. "You worked there, didn't you?"

“You don’t know what it was like!” Blue Moon suddenly cried, slamming his hoof against the table as he glared at Daring. “Working on those abominable, disgusting creations night and day, worried that Sombra would punish you or your loved ones if you failed him! The obscene rituals I had to go through! The nightmares! The screaming, every day! I spent years trying to push all of that out of my mind, to forget all of it!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Daring said, raising a hoof placatingly. “I know this must be hard for you, but it’s important that we find the temple. It might be the key to figuring out who killed Professor Fossil.”

Blue Moon took a few slow breaths to calm down, then sighed, sniffling and blinking back tears. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I hoped that I could make up for what I did by helping to find and destroy the artifacts, including Tirek’s Mirror. But I only went to the temples themselves a few times, and I barely remember where they were: the last time I did was in 1944, when I helped to conceal the entrances, which were already hidden. My journal has notes about where they are and what traps are in them.”

“Did he say traps?” Flash asked, then groaned and rolled his eyes. “Not again.”

“Hey, what’s life without a few dangerous expeditions?” Daring teased.

Flash sighed. “So you’re saying that the only ponies who knew what Professor Fossil was doing were you, himself, and maybe the members of his research team?”

“And the Emperor and Empress,” Blue Moon added.

“It can’t be them!” Flash cried.

“How certain can you be about that?” Blue Moon grunted, glaring at them. “We all thought Sombra was a just and honorable pony when he was merely the Prime Minister.”

Daring and Flash glanced at each other, then slowly stood and exited the room, closing the door behind them. Blue Moon placed his face back in his hooves, his body shaking as he took in slow breaths.

"How did you know about the temple?" Captain Orrizonte asked them as they closed the door behind them.

“The Emperor and Empress have asked us to look into that specifically," Daring Do replied.

The marshal scowled at them, indignation flashing in his sky blue eyes. “So the Emperor and Empress, in their infinite wisdom, have entrusted important, classified information to two outsiders?” he asked.

Outsiders?! Indignation bubbled in Daring’s gut and before she could stop it, the heat rushed up her veins down her right foreleg to the brand, which began to burn in response to her humiliation, her anger, her pain. She quickly turned away, hissing in breaths.

“What’s wrong?” Orrizonte asked.

“Can you give us a moment?” Flash asked, gently placing a wing around Daring’s withers and guiding her away. He pulled her away into an empty office, closing the door behind them.

“Okay, let it out,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Daring snarled, rubbing her foreleg and trying to banish the pain, which bubbled and seethed like lava in her marrow. Fuck him! Fuck this brand! Fuck it, fuck it! she growled to herself as she paced in a circle, trying to wrangle her heavy breathing back under control.

Flash just quirked an eyebrow at her. Daring sighed in disgust, turning away from him. “You sure you’re not Phil’s son?” she grunted. “You’ve even mastered the look.”

Flash sighed. “I get it,” he said. “You’re close to finally getting rid of that thing, and it hurts more because you’re scared it won’t work.”

“It didn’t work,” Daring grumbled, trying to ignore the way her stomach was twisting like she was on a rollercoaster.

“Once,” Flash said. “It didn’t work once. Twilight, Shining, and Cadance have all forgotten more about magic than either of us will ever know.” He smiled at her and patted her on the back. “They’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

Daring stared at him for a beat, then sighed and lowered her head, relaxing as the pain slowly ebbed away. “Thanks, kid,” she managed through a feeble smile.

“No worries,” Flash smiled back, then chuckled. “Oh, gosh, I really do sound like him.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, we should get back to work.”

But as they exited the room, Daring glanced over into a mirror. Reflected back at her was not the older mare in the pith helmet, the one that ponies thought was a hero, the one that Phillip loved.

Once again, she was staring at her younger self, the brand fresher on her skin. She glared at her elder self from the other side of the glass, blood on her face, mixed fear and anger in her eyes.

I will always be with you. You cannot banish me. You cannot erase the blood on your hooves.

Daring paused, then closed her eyes with a slow sigh. I know, she admitted, and followed Flash outside.

“Just needed to take a moment to think,” Flash reassured the captain, who was frowning at them in obvious suspicion. “The fact of the matter is, the Emperor and Empress entrusted us with this information, and I’m sure that if you contact them, they’d be willing to explain everything to you.”

“I certainly will,” Orrizonte grunted.

“Detectives Sentry and Do?” a younger gendarme called, rushing up to them. “Your friends got back. They waiting for you in lab. Please follow.”

“Grazie,” Daring nodded, already turning and heading after the younger pony with Flash in tow. She felt Orrizonte’s eyes burning into the back of their heads with every step until they finally turned the corner.

The marshal escorted them down the stairs to a pristine white hallway. “Lab down there,” he reported.

“Grazie,” Daring nodded, proceeding down the hall. “Damn, this is a hell of a lot better than the lab in Ponyville.”

Flash glanced back at the stairs. “What do you think about the captain?” he asked Daring sotto voce.

“On the one hoof, I understand him being pissed,” Daring replied. “On the other…”

“Yeah,” Flash nodded. “Let’s just be careful, right?”

“I’m always careful,” Daring replied.

Flash smirked at her. “Shut up,” Daring preemptively cut him off.

“Hey, Flash, Daring,” Spike called through a door on their left. “In here.”

The laboratory inside was nearly thrice the size of the basement laboratory of the Ponyville Police Department. Dozens of worktables were manned by crystal ponies in lab coats, studying hoofprints, placing their eyes to microscope lenses, and squinting at test tubes.

Twilight was currently studying a pale blue powder at one work table, with another scientist watching, the two conversing rapidly in Crystalline. Twilight levitated over an eyedropper of purple liquid and dropped it onto the slide. The sample of powder immediately flashed a light green color, which was apparently what the two scientists were looking for, judging by their serious nods.

“Professor Fossil’s intruder used this powder to hide their hoofprints from detection,” Twilight explained to Daring and Flash. “It’s made primarily of firidium and pulverized shade root.”

“Which means…?” Daring prompted.

“It’s specifically designed to eliminate trace evidence, including hoofprints, by bonding with and vanishing sweat or similar traces,” Twilight said, moving over to another table. She placed her hoof in an ink pad, then stamped her hoofprint onto a piece of paper. Then she took a hoofful of the blue powder and tossed it over the hoofprint. The powder glowed blue and then both it and the hoofprint faded away to invisibility.

“See?” Twilight asked, magically washing off the ink on her hoof.

“I’m guessing that this isn’t something that any pony could’ve come up with,” Flash commented.

“No, this is a precise measurement, and both items are pretty rare and tricky to mix together correctly,” Twilight said.

“Scusi,” the ruby red scientist interjected. “I worked with the military before the war. I’ve seen something similar to this being designed for special forces to hide their tracks. They weren’t able to figure it out while I was there, but they did use the pulverized shade root.”

“Thanks, Ruby Lens,” Twilight nodded.

“So our guy may be military special forces,” Flash mused. “Can this get any worse?” He paused, then his eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it! Forget I said that!” he cried, looking up towards the ceiling.

“Too late,” Daring replied.

“If you want to look at what Professor Fossil was carrying when he died, they’re on a table over here,” Ruby Lens said, pointing.

Spread out on the table were the few items that had been found in the pockets of Crystal Fossil’s bloodstained suit: a gold pocketwatch, still ticking away, a notepad, a few fountain pens, and a wallet with a few coins and an ID card scattered across the table.

“We didn’t expect to find much,” Ruby admitted. “There’s no trace evidence of the killer in there.”

Flash panned his eyes over the assorted materials, taking in each one in silence. Ruby was right: there was nothing there of intere--

“What’s that?” he mused out loud, pawing at the wallet. A small, loose red thread was sticking out of the interior of the bag.

“It’s just a loose thread,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, but there are stitches here and here,” Flash said, pointing at the fresh repairs along the exterior of the pleather wallet. “He kept this well-maintained: those repairs probably cost more than the wallet.”

“And yet that thread has nearly unraveled,” Twilight pointed out, picking up on Flash’s train of thought. “It’s old.”

“Any thread is worth tugging on,” Daring added with a nod.

Flash took the thread in his teeth and gently pulled. An interior pocket opened up in the wallet and a single item fell out: a blank sheet of notepaper.

“Why would he keep a blank sheet of paper hidden in his wallet?” Flash asked out loud, studying the paper.

“Maybe it’s not blank,” Twilight suggested. “Let me see…” She snatched up a nearby ultraviolet light and shone it onto the paper.

Writing, glowing bluish-green beneath the light, appeared on the paper. “Pagina 58, Tirek,” Daring read out loud. “Maybe that’s the page on the journal he was up to.”

“Let’s go see Phil and Marshal Facet,” Twilight suggested.

The other two detectives were waiting in an adjoining office, both of them studying lists of emergency calls from the previous day. “How about this one?” Marshal Facet asked, lifting up one report. “Anonymous individual called in a suspicious individual around Professor Fossil’s neighborhood. There was no sign of anypony suspicious, but one neighbor told a gendarme that they had seen an unfamiliar car nearby. They described it as a dark blue two-door Alfalfa Poneo.”

Phillip frowned at the report. “Car was noticed driving past Fossil’s home a few times. Phone call came from a public gamewell. Possibly.” He grunted. “Kinda wish you had surveillance crystals.”

“The Emperor and Empress are not comfortable with them, and neither are the citizens of our nation,” Facet stated in a rather cold tone.

Phillip just shrugged. “Okay, whoever killed Fossil is a four-foot unicorn male with a white beard, chews tobacco,” he reported as Twilight, Flash, Daring, and Spike entered. “They’re smart: surveilled the area and accounted for gendarme’s response time.”

“Possibly ex-military, maybe even special forces,” Twilight added.

“And they know who Blue Moon is and what he was involved in,” Daring cut in. “I’m betting Shining Armor might have an idea who they are.”

“And let’s not forget Professor Fossil’s journal,” Flash added. “Assuming that the killer doesn’t have it already, there might be some clues in his office at the university.”

“Right,” Phillip nodded. “Twilight and Spike, I want you to speak to Shining and see if this description rings a bell while you process the rest of the evidence. The rest of us will go to the university to check Professor Fossil’s office.”

“You got it,” Twilight nodded, pausing to allow Flash to kiss her goodbye.

The two pegasi and the earth pony ascended the stairs to the ground floor and exited to the clear air of the city.

“The University is about five miles southeast of here, if I remember the map correctly,” Daring said, pointing. “Think you can make it that far, Sentry?”

“What?” Phillip asked in alarm. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I am taking a taxi like a normal bloody pony.”

Flash glanced at Phillip, then turned to Daring with a smirk. “It’ll be a cinch, especially with an old lady like you carrying him,” he grinned.

“Old lady?” Daring said in mock anger as Phillip started to run away. “Oh, I’ll show you, boy!”

“On three?” Flash asked, spreading his wings.

“Readysetgo!” Daring shouted and a gray rainbow streaked through the air, snatching Phillip up off the ground. His cry of shock and protest mixed with the two pegasi’s laughter.

Author's Note

Having Phil taken for a ride is never gonna get old. And neither is artifact hunting.

Also, I don't speak Italian: all translations were done via Google Translate. If anyone speaks Italian, please feel free to correct me.

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