The Feather of Fire

by nerothewizard

Chapter 5

The thud of a bass drum rattled in Mare-Do-Well's hooves, each beat sending a tingling sensation reverberating through her legs, up to her shoulders and haunches, and finally to her ribcage, where her heart kept its pace inside a cage of bone as it mimicked the steady rhythm that pulsed from her radio. Each ripple of audio-produced pleasure that tore through her tensed body was counteracted by a sharp ache, a twinge of painful pressure in each forelimb as her body was hoisted up and lowered down in time with the pounding put forth by her cheap but effective sound system. Everything about her was steady: the movement of each push-up, coordinated with the music of The Whoof that filled her apartment and her head; each breath, drawn in during two full motions that brought her from the floor to an angle above it and back down again, then released during the next two; each beat of her hard-working heart as it sent vital blood coursing through her sculpted body. Streams of sweat trailed down from her dampened mane, across her forehead, around her eyes, and onto the bridge of her nose, where they dripped off or were sent flying across the room by the vigor of her exercise. Her mind was wracked with an equal mix of pleasure and pain, but she pushed those conflicting emotions away in favor of a more linear pattern of thought: One hundred eighty-two, one hundred eighty-three, one hundred eighty-four...

Most of her daily routines were boring, nothing more than tasks that she had carried out so often that they had been permanently ingrained into her brain. This, however, was anything but mundane. Mare-Do-Well welcomed each day with vigor, mostly for the promise of an exercise regimen that would push her muscles, her internal organs, her entire being close to its limit. She had a very hard time understanding why many ponies, mares especially, shunned the practice of working out regularly; the completion of a particularly grueling session left her feeling more refreshed than anything else she had experienced up to this point in her life. For Mare-Do-Well, though, regular recreation meant something even more. Every ounce of adrenaline that pumped through her body reminded her of the passion she felt on a night-by-night basis, and the familiar, intense feeling of frightened excitement told the story of a pony who was ready, willing, and able to venture into the most dangerous parts of Manehattan to make it a safer place to live.

One hundred ninety-nine, two hundred. Her push-ups complete, Mare-Do-Well stood up on all four hooves and stretched them lightly, allowing herself a chance to catch her breath. After several deep drafts drawn in through her nostrils and expelled slowly out of her mouth, she trotted over to a thick, black leather bag suspended from her ceiling that bore a crudely-painted profile of a pony with an eye patch and gritted teeth, some of which were missing. Mare-Do-Well turned her back to the bag, bent her front legs low to the floor, and bucked at the picture, first with her left hind leg, then her right, and then both simultaneously. Each satisfying sequence of “thump-thump-THWACK” came in time with the still-blaring music, and soon wicked guitar riffs blended with swift strikes against leather to produce a rhythmic symphony that lifted Mare-Do-Well's spirits, along with her pulse rate.

Nearly an hour later, Mare-Do-Well stood underneath a steady jet of hot water in her shower, and a thick curtain of steam swirled around the confined tile space and into her eager lungs. Aches and pains from the day's exercises were relaxed by the sensation of the scalding liquid as it flowed down her entire body, spreading heat from the tips of her ears to her hooves. Swiftly, she scrubbed the day's dirt and grime from her coat and rinsed out her mane, then took a few minutes longer to enjoy the feel of the water before shutting it off. With a slight shiver, she retrieved her nearby towel and dried herself off thoroughly before stepping out of the shower. A quick brush of her mane and tail left her looking presentable, although she smiled at the thought that it wouldn't matter where she was going. Tonight, she had an interview to conduct.

The break-in at Seapony Dockworks had been five nights ago. Aside from a short blurb in the Manehattan Daily, Mare-Do-Well had neither heard nor seen any indication that the crime was close to being solved, instead reading the same tired line of an “ongoing investigation.” Following her usual practice, she had typed a quick note describing her encounter with the perpetrators, which she had left in the police station's mailbox. In most situations, she would have left the resolution of the case to the Manehattan police investigators; her involvement often didn't go beyond capturing criminals in the act or providing enough clues to the authorities – anonymously, of course – that they could work the rest out themselves. This particular incident, however, struck a nerve. Too many things about it didn't add up. The two thieves had repeatedly mentioned a “boss,” and their entire purpose in breaking into the warehouse had been to locate one specific crate, even though the building was probably packed with valuable items that were in the process of being shipped. Not only that, but the crate that they had destroyed and then ransacked had been sent from the distant country of Cameland on its way to the Manehattan University History Department; Mare-Do-Well could only guess at its contents. The final thing that seemed strange about the whole situation was the two ponies who had performed the nefarious deed. While the large stallion had come across as a professional, considering his dedication to the task at hand and his rather impressive build, the smaller mare criminal didn't seem like anything of the sort, even if she had convinced the officer at the scene of their innocence. Who could have hired those two to carry out his or her dirty work was beyond Mare-do-Well.

As uninformative as the newspaper piece had been, though, one detail that she hoped would prove helpful was the statement from the University's History Department. Her copy of the Manehattan Daily was still close at hoof, so she retrieved it and opened to the story, reading aloud, “'The dean of the History Department, Dr. Brier, was quoted as saying, “My faculty and I plan to cooperate with the police fully in this investigation.” When questioned about the stolen contents, he declined further comment, but his office informed us later in a statement that the missing item was highly valuable and that they hoped for its swift and safe return.' But why?” mused Mare-Do-Well. “Why not tell the media what it is?” Her brow furrowed. A quick glance out the window showed that Celestia's sun was rapidly disappearing behind the distant skyscrapers, and Mare-Do-Well quickly gathered her costume from her closet and donned it. As she made her usual exit from her apartment building by means of the fire escape, she grinned underneath her mask. Perhaps the night would bring some of the answers she sought.

***

Careful observations over the past two days had given her insight into the habits of one Dr. Brier, specifically at the later hours of the evening. While on the weekdays, most of the faculty from his department departed for their homes at around 9 o'clock, the dean stayed in his office for about an hour after that before he also left. As Mare-Do-Well arrived at the Manehattan University campus, slipping silently among the shadows of each building, the light coming from the dean's office on the top floor of the three-story History wing and the absence of illumination from any of the other rooms below or to the side of his told her that tonight was no exception. She crept up to the mostly-empty structure, her head darting left and right as she scanned the darkened campus for any signs of security. Satisfied that nopony else was nearby, she nudged the side door open and ducked inside.

The dim corridors of the History building gave testament to the late hour, as all the classrooms and lecture halls on either side of the main hall were dark, and even some of the ceiling lights had been shut off earlier in the evening. Mare-Do-Well made her way quickly to the stairwell near the rear of the wing and began her ascent. Her hooves were padded by her costume, but she still heard each step all too clearly. At each landing, she glanced backwards, but she saw nopony else. Finally, she gained access to the third floor, and she softly padded her way to the dean's office. She drew in a deep breath and raised her hoof, knocking several times in quick succession on the thick wooden door. A cough came from inside, followed by a rough stallion's voice saying, “Just a minute.” After another cough and some incoherent mumbling, she heard the sound of a squeaking desk chair, then hooves walking on thin carpet until they paused in front of the door. A lock clicked, and the door swung open slowly as the dean said, “Now what do you wa-” A dark gray earth pony stallion with a balding white mane and matching beard came into view. Dr. Brier's eyes widened when he saw the pony waiting for him outside his office.

Years of experience had familiarized Mare-Do-Well with this reaction to her costumed appearance, and she quickly wedged herself into the room, her forehoof holding the door open even as the dean attempted to slam it shut. He released the door and stepped back toward his desk, never taking his eyes from Mare-Do-Well while he retreated quickly, his mouth trembling as he attempted to stammer something out. The purple-clad pony stepped inside and sealed them both in the room with a swift kick to the door, then began to advance upon the stunned dean. He quickly looked around the room, then turned and reached for the phone on his desk with both front hooves. The costumed mare was quicker; his outstretched hooves were suddenly pinned to his desktop by her much stronger foreleg. Faster than Brier could react, Mare-Do-Well swept his left hoof behind his back and pressed her front leg into his back, pushing his face against the table as he shouted in surprise. He swiveled his head back toward Mare-Do-Well and finally managed to croak out, “Who...are you?”

When she spoke, she made sure that her voice was low and gruff, enough of a deviation from her normal speech that it made recognition nearly impossible. “I'll tell you, but you have to cooperate. Deal?”

His countenance instantly hardened. “Why should I cooperate with some foal in a Nightmare Night get-up, thinks she can bust in here and do whatever she wants?”

Even though he couldn't see it, Mare-Do-Well raised an eyebrow. This guy's not gonna be easy, she thought. She addressed the dean slowly, “I may be able to help you.”

He spat back, “I don't need your help, freak. You better get out of my office right now, or else.” With grunts of effort, he vainly struggled to loosen himself from her hold.

She responded, “You're not really in a position to tell me what to do, are you?”

“Said the big, tough mare who's too scared to let anypony else see her face.”

Mare-Do-Well took a deep breath. “Perhaps if you listen, you might be interested in what I have to say.” She infused as much calm as possible into her statement, while at the same time she struggled to resist the urge to hit this pony as hard as she could.

“I doubt that,” snarled Brier, though a bit of the edge in his voice was gone. He held her gaze with sharp green eyes as his body twitched in repeated attempts to break free.

After several seconds of silent staring, she finally said, “You keep that up, that leg's gonna break.” His eyes narrowed, but his body stilled beneath her. She continued, “Now let's try this again. Are you going to cooperate with me, Doctor Brier?”

He coughed, then asked quietly, “How do you know my name?” Wordlessly, she nodded toward the black placard on the desk, where his name had been inscribed in white block letters. He muttered, “Fair enough. But what do you want with me?”

She leaned down close to his ear. “Just a few questions, that's all. I promise. Then I'll leave.”

The dean was quiet for a moment, then said, “You still haven't told me who you are.”

“Will you answer my questions?” He gave a curt nod. “In that case, I'm the Mysterious Mare-Do-Well.”

Dr. Brier suddenly burst into laughter. “Seriously?” he managed to choke out. “That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!” His cries of jocularity were quickly replaced with a squeal of pain as Mare-Do-Well pushed his pinned leg up slowly towards his head. He shouted, “Okay, okay, okay, sorry! Mysterious Mare-Do-Well, fine!” She lowered his leg down, her crude hold proving to be effective. The dean let out a sigh of relief, then said, “Say what you need to.”

Mare-Do-Well began, “The break-in at the Dockworks was no random crime. The perps were after something specific, and from what I saw, they found it before they got away.”

“Wait,” interrupted the dean, “You were there? What are you, a cop or something? I already told you guys what I know about all that!”

“Do you really think I'm a cop?” asked Mare-Do-Well softly.

He looked her over once. “Fair enough. But you were there?”

“I was trying to stop the thieves. And last I remember, I'm the one who's supposed to be asking the questions.”

“Fine,” Brier said, rolling his eyes.

“The crate from Cameland, what was inside?”

The dean responded, “Our archaeologists have had a dig site there for a few months now. Trowel, the lead pony, had just found a new chamber in the temple where they'd been excavating, and he said they'd be sending anything they found back to us for inspection while they finished their job out there. The crate that got broken into was one of those. We're still trying to figure out exactly which one.”

“So you don't know what the thieves actually took?”

“That's right. Whole batch of crates came in from that dig.”

“But in the paper, your office said the item was 'highly valuable.' How could they know that if you aren't familiar with the contents of the ransacked crate?”

Brier stammered, “I...we...assumed it was. Any old piece from there is likely to be...well...valuable, no matter what the thieves went after.”

Mare-Do-Well was silent for a moment, then said, “Forgive me, Doctor Brier, but something's not right here. You say there were multiple shipments from Cameland, and that may be true, but these crooks didn't so much as touch any of the other packages in the Dockworks. They went specifically after that one, and it sounded like they were under orders from someone else to do it. Something special was in that crate, and I bet you know what it was.”

Brier's eyes shifted away from Mare-Do-Well's stare. He swallowed hard, then said, “Okay, maybe there's more.” He looked back at the costumed pony and her blank, unwavering stare. He let out a long sigh, then said, “Trowel sent me a letter two days before the package was supposed to arrive, said they had come across some incredible find out there. Mentioned something about a secret room, I didn't really understand all the details. Anyway, he seemed to think this thing was significant and made sure to send it as soon as he could, ahead of all the other stuff from the dig. I was going to pick it up from Seapony Dockworks the day after it arrived on the overnight cargo ship, but...you know the rest.”

Mare-Do-Well took a minute to process this new information. “Apparently, he wasn't the only pony who thought that what they found was 'significant.' This is important, Doctor. What exactly was in that crate?”

“I can show you if you want,” said the dean. “Trowel sent a photo along with his letter. It's in my desk drawer.”

Slowly, Mare-Do-Well lifted her hoof from Brier's back, keeping his hoof pinned behind him. She let him stand up straight, then led him around to the front of the desk. He methodically reached out his free forehoof and opened a small drawer to the right of his seat, the costumed mare watching his movements closely. After a moment of rummaging through the contents, he triumphantly plucked out a thick white envelope, which bore several exotic-looking stamps and a return address from Cameland. He held the envelope down while Mare-Do-Well used her own unoccupied hoof to slide the contents out onto the desk. She folded open a letter scrawled in rather poor hoofwriting and slid it aside, revealing what looked like the back of a photograph underneath. She turned it over and drew a sharp intake of breath.

To say the object pictured was “pretty” would be a gross understatement. The background appeared to be a tent, and the centerpiece of the photo had been placed on top of a small table therein. None of those details concerned Mare-Do-Well, though, as her vision was fixed on the stunning figurine whose image had been captured. Its shape was that of a pony, an earth pony judging from both the lack of horn or wings and the slightly enlarged legs and hooves. It appeared to have been chiseled out of glass, but there was no reflective light from where the camera had snapped the picture in the first place, and even though the area around the figure appeared to be well-lit, there were no mirror images of anything on its surface. The miniature looked, above all else, very smooth and exquisitely formed, without a single blemish or divot.

Her concentration was broken by Dr. Brier. “Stunning, isn't it?”

Her response was breathy. “Very much so.” She shook her head quickly, breaking away from the entrancing photo. “This is what was stolen?”

The dean sighed heavily. “Unfortunately. The police don't have any leads at this point, either. It's like the crooks just vanished into thin air. Shame. I really hate to lose a piece like that. Who knows what it's worth!”

Mare-Do-Well ignored his statement and continued her questioning. “Do you know of anypony that would want to steal from you specifically, Doctor, or go after this particular piece?”

He shook his head and replied, “Nopony I can think of. I don't really associate with petty thieves.”

“The more I look at it and think about it,” the masked mare said, “the more I'm sure that petty theft wasn't a factor in this. Somepony else knew about this find, Doctor, and they knew when and where to swipe it.” She stroked her chin. “I need to dig deeper. I get the feeling that I haven't even scratched the surface of this thing yet.” Suddenly, the dean's left forehoof was free of Mare-Do-Well's grasp, and he swung it around in front of him and massaged it with his right, wincing in pain. The costumed pony trotted toward the door, but turned back to face Dr. Brier before she stepped out. “One last thing, Doctor. Don't call the police right away. I'd like a little head start.” She grinned slightly at his indignant face, then stepped out of the room with a flourish of her cape, vanishing into the night. As she stealthily made her way off the Manehattan University campus and back to her apartment, she mulled over all the information divulged by her unwilling host. The case had taken an interesting turn. The interview had been a success.

Comments

[Firebirdbtops]

She works out with a LEATHER bag? Did she skin the cow herself? Regardless, this chapter and the ones before are all fantastic works of descriptive flowing story. Commendable story.

[volrathxp]

Congrats on getting on EQD! I haven't gotten a chance to read your latest, hopefully soon here.

[Supersheep64]

Oh man, this is Getting interesting!

[Borg]

I...we...assumed it was. Any old piece from there is likely to be...well...valuable, no matter what the thieves went after.

I would've been happy to believe that statement, Brier, if you acted like you believe it at all. You really need to work on your delivery if you're going to make a habit of lying.

So, then, where's the unicorn? Has it been found yet?