Phillip walked into the laboratory, the shadows beneath his eyes betraying his tiredness. “Doctor, Twilight,” he greeted the two ponies within. “What do we know?”
“Good morning to you, too,” Twilight declared in a testy tone, not looking up from the samples of magical energy that she was currently studying. The little swirling clouds of colored energy floated within their glass containers, some of them glowing faintly as they contentedly lay at the bottom of the tubes, some of them angrily attempting to escape their small prisons. Twilight lifted up one of the tubes, containing a sleepy little cloud of yellow magic, and studied the label on it, selecting a photograph from the collection of pictures neatly organized in front of her and matching it to the sample.
“We are currently studying the evidence taken from Gold Bar’s home,” Doctor Suunkii reported, not looking up from the long line of evidence bags spread across the table in front of him. “We have hopes of potentially discovering what has happened within that home and where our suspects have gone.”
Daring casually strolled in, munching on a carrot. “What’s up, doc?” she asked Doctor Suunkii.
“No food in the laboratory,” the zebra admonished her without looking up. Twilight zapped the carrot with her magic, turning it into ashes.
“Hey!” Daring protested. Twilight just smirked at her.
“What is up is that we are currently going over everything again, in an attempt to find some clue as to our suspect’s movements,” Suunkii stated. “However, as of this moment, we do not have any leads.”
“So we don’t know where they are, where they got the drugs from, or how to find them,” Daring summed up.
“That is correct,” Doctor Suunkii declared, standing up and rubbing his eyes.
“Well, that’s fucking great,” Daring grunted.
There was a knock at the door and Flash Sentry walked inside. Twilight looked up at his entrance and gasped in shock. Flash’s eye was swollen shut, his wing hung limply against his side, and he walked with a noticeable limp.
“What happened to you?” Twilight cried.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Flash grunted, wincing as he spoke and clutching his side. “Doctor Mortis wanted me to get—”
“Here, let me help,” Twilight said, stepping forward. Her horn lit up with a purple glow and trails of magic began to spiral through the air, twisting across Flash’s body. The pegasus instinctively stepped back, his eyes widening in shock at what he interpreted as a possible attack.
“What’re you doing?” he shouted.
“Please, just hold still. It’ll make the healing spells easier,” Twilight told him.
Flash remained still, though his apprehension was made clear by the tenseness in his shoulders and the rapid breathing through his nostrils. Twilight’s magic swirled around him, targeting any injuries. She closed her eyes in concentration, focusing on the waves of energy that traveled back and forth between her and her patient. Within a few moments, the bruises around Flash’s eye and on his face began to fade, his wing repaired itself, and he was able to stand up straighter.
“Uh...thanks,” Flash said when the spell faded away, touching his face in surprise.
“You’re welcome,” Twilight said, panting slightly from the effort of her spell. “Traditional healing spells are only powerful enough to heal small injuries such as minor scrapes and cuts, but that’s because the casters don’t know how to maintain it long enough to heal anything more complex. I discovered that if you use Apollion’s Principle of Circular Energy Flows, you can direct some of the expended energy back into the spell…” Her voice trailed to a stop as she slowly realized that everypony was staring at her. She blushed and chuckled nervously. “Uh, the point is, it works.”
“As I was saying,” Flash said, turning back to Phillip and Daring. “Doctor Mortis sent me. She wants to see you.”
“Right,” Phillip said, following Flash out of the laboratory, with Daring following. Flash led them down the hallway towards the morgue.
“You sure you’re okay?” Phillip asked Flash as they walked.
“I’m fine,” Flash grunted, not looking around.
Daring glanced at Phillip, then spoke to Flash. “Hey, Sentry. You remember the night that Shifting Tone was attacked?”
Flash faltered in his steps for a moment, then paused and turned around. “Yes. Why?” he asked.
“You have any ideas how that assassin found us?” Daring asked.
Flash shook his head, but his brow furrowed in an expression of displeasure. “They must’ve been following us somehow,” he said.
Daring glanced at Phillip, whose expression gave nothing away. She turned back to Flash. “What do you remember?”
Flash frowned in thought. “We pulled into that motel, like you told us to, Phil,” he narrated. “I called in to dispatch, since we’re always supposed to keep the dispatch informed of where we are and what we’re doing, and we got out. Detective Evidence told us to go around to the back to cover the exit, so that’s what we did. After a few minutes, the assassin—Twisted Root—came out of the back door. I pulled out my gun and told him to stop, but Star…” His mouth twisted in an expression of bitterness. “He pushed me...tripped...I don’t know. Then Root pulled out that crystal and zapped it and disappeared.”
He blinked, then shook his head slowly. “Maybe I should’ve gone in with you…”
“It’s not your fault,” Phillip stated.
Daring frowned at Phillip for a moment, then turned back to Sentry, stepping in close. “So how do we know you’re not the one that led the assassin there?” she accused.
Flash leaned back, his eyes widening in shock at the sudden invasion of his personal space, then glowered at Daring. “You’re accusing me?! Of working for the mob?!”
“If you’re innocent, why are you so upset?” Daring accused.
“Fuck you!” Flash spat, stepping around her and storming up the hallway. Daring started to go after him, but Phillip stopped her with an outstretched hoof and an icy glare.
“You wait here,” he ordered her in a tone that left no room for argument. Daring glowered at him but took a nervous half-step backward. Phillip turned and followed Sentry as he turned a corner.
“Flash,” Phillip called. When the pegasus didn’t stop, Phillip raised his voice slightly. “Officer Sentry.”
Flash paused, glaring at him over his shoulder. “Come to insult me, too?” he snapped.
“I believe you,” Phillip said.
Flash blinked, his face changing from anger and frustration to confusion in an instant. “You do?” he asked.
“Yes,” Phillip continued, stepping forward. “I’ve met a lot of good liars. You’re not one of them. You’re too honest.”
Flash blinked, his eyes darting back and forth between the floor and Phillip. “Thanks,” he said, somewhat hesitatingly.
“I’m sorry about Daring,” Phillip apologized. “She’s not happy about what happened.”
“I’m not either,” Flash said bitterly. “Doesn’t mean she needs to make it worse for me.”
“She’s inexperienced,” Phillip stated. “You understand that we have to consider every possibility, but that doesn’t make what she did right. I’ll have a talk with her.”
“I know you have to check,” Flash admitted, shuffling his hooves.
Phillip stepped forward again, lowering his head slightly to look the smaller pony in the eyes. “You didn’t tell anypony anything about where you were going or what you were doing that night?”
“No one,” Flash shook his head.
“What about Star?” Phillip asked.
Flash thought for a moment but shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“You see him say or do anything dodgy that night?”
Flash shook his head. “I don’t remember him doing anything weird...besides shoving me,” he added bitterly.
“You see him around Trace Evidence’s car?”
“No, why?” Flash asked.
“Just checking,” Phillip replied. “You’d best be getting back to work.”
“Right,” Flash nodded, his shoulders slumping perceptibly as he turned and started back up the hallway towards the stairs that would take him up out of the basement.
“Flash,” Phillip called after him. Flash paused again, turning back.
“Word of advice,” Phillip said. “No one can fight your battles for you. Doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help if you need it, though. Even if it’s for one bogan.”
Flash seemed to ponder that for a moment, then nodded his thanks and turned to leave. Phillip turned around and walked back to where Daring was standing.
“The hell was that?” he growled at her.
“That was me interrogating a suspect,” Daring replied, glaring at him. “Least I didn’t break his kneecap.”
“No, that was you bloody fucking it up,” Phillip replied.
“You mad I hurt the kid’s feelings?” Daring asked.
“If he’d been a suspect, you’d’ve ruined any chance of him talking to us again,” Phillip replied. “You do not accuse anypony of anything based off of no evidence like you just did, and you don’t make them shut down by getting in their face when they're angry. I will teach you how to interrogate suspects. Until you get a grasp of it, you leave it to me. Clear?”
Daring glared at him for a few seconds of stony silence, then grunted and turned around. “Whatever. Let’s just see what the doc wants.”
She and Phillip walked the rest of the way down the hall to the door labeled Mortuary and entered without knocking. The room within was a large, cold, stark metal room. The counters were made of polished steel, as was the trio of examination tables set in the middle of the room. One of these tables was occupied, the object sprawled atop it covered by a white sheet. Along the back wall were several vault doors, arranged in neat rows and columns. Behind each steel door was a freezer. Daring didn’t want to think about how many freezers had a preserved corpse inside. The clashing scents of rot, decay and cleaning fluid hung heavy in the air, assaulting the visitors’ noses as they entered.
Doctor Mortis was washing her hooves at a sink in the opposite corner, her apron stained with fluids that Daring didn’t want to be identified. She looked up as they entered and smiled. “Oh, there you are,” she chirped. “I’ve been talking to our new friend here. He’s not very chatty, but he’s been telling me some interesting stories.”
She walked over to the covered table and lit up her horn with a milky white aura, lifting the sheet aside. The bloated, rotten corpse from the Maresippi lay beneath, turned upright so that its empty eyeholes and gaping toothless mouth were in full view. Doctor Mortis had cut the torso open with a Y-shaped incision, exposing the rotten internal organs, all of which she’d already carefully cut out, examined and placed back inside. Daring took one look and rapidly backpedaled, pressing up against the door to stay as far away from the body as possible.
“You have an ID?” Phillip asked, stepping up to the body and bending over it.
“Nope,” Doctor Mortis replied. “Like I said, whoever killed him really didn’t want us to identify them. But they didn’t count on me. Now, I haven’t learned much, but I am pretty sure of a few things. One, this is definitely a male unicorn, about...forty, forty-five years old, sedentary lifestyle. I extracted silver hair follicles from their scalp. They’ve been living off of bread and water for about two weeks or so, and they’ve been repeatedly tortured during that time: hot knives, needles in the hooves…”
“Wait,” Phillip said, raising a hoof. “Did you notice irritation in the lungs, mouth or nose?”
Doctor Mortis blinked. “Yes. I’d hazard that they were a long-term snuff taker.”
“Right or left hooved?” Phillip asked.
“Left hooved, based on the muscular and bone development there,” Doctor Mortis replied, a small grin crossing her face. “What’re you onto, Finder?”
“I’ve got an ID,” Phillip stated. “This is Gold Bar.”
Daring blinked. “But we met Gold Bar.”
“That was an imposter,” Phillip replied. “The real Gold Bar was kidnapped two weeks ago, when the shootings started, and replaced by a copy. He was held somewhere and tortured for information, then killed and dumped in the river when he wasn’t of use anymore.”
“How are you sure that he’s an imposter?” Daring asked.
“You saw the same things I did,” Phillip replied. “The snuff box on the desk, but our fake didn’t have any irritation in the mouth and nose; never taken snuff in their life. Then the phone on his right side, but he used his pen with his right hoof. A right-hooved pony would be more likely to put their phone on their left side so they could write while talking.”
Daring nodded. “So who replaced him and why?”
“Gold Bar’s heading up distribution of drugs in the Everfree District and somepony wants in on the drug supply,” Phillip said. “I’d bet anything that the imposter’s working with the shooters, getting info on the ring's members so they can take them out.”
Daring frowned. "But why just focus on the dealers? Why not take out the suppliers too?"
"Can't do that without giving themselves away," Phillip concluded. "A street-level dealer gets shot in the street, just another day. An upper-level supplier gets shot, that's a declaration of open war. The dealers' deaths are probably warning shots."
"Okay, I think I see what you're saying," Daring shrugged. "And when the servants figured out that their boss had been replaced by a fake, they took him and ran,” Daring concluded. “They’re probably gonna kill him.”
“Right,” Phillip nodded.
“And we still don’t know where they’re going, or where they’re getting their drugs from,” Daring pointed out.
“If we find one, we might find the other,” Phillip stated.
“If I were you, I’d check with Detective Night Waltz,” Doctor Mortis suggested. “He’s the one doing most of the Vice work here. He might have some idea.”
“Thanks, doc,” Phillip replied. “C’mon, Daring.” They exited the morgue and walked back up the hallway to the stairs. Instead of exiting on the ground floor, they continued upwards to the second floor, where the detectives’ offices were located. Phillip pushed through a door and they found themselves in a large open room, littered with cubicles. Ponies walked through the maze, rushing back and forth with papers, shouting to one another over the makeshift walls, muttering to one another as they hovered near the water cooler or the coffee machine. A light rain that fell from the overcast sky pattered against the windows.
“Where’s Detective Night Waltz?” Phillip called to a passing mare.
“Second on the right, then fifth cubicle on the left,” the mare said without looking up from the stacks of files that her muzzle was buried in.
Phillip and Daring walked to the right and entered the second hallway, then walked down to the fifth pair of cubicles. The cubicle on the right was occupied by an earth pony stallion with a dark purple coat the color of the sky at dusk. His hair and mustache were both a starlight silvery blue. He was wearing a watery yellow suit with a white shirt and a yellow and purple striped tie, tightly knotted, and had a black fedora perched atop his head, tilted down over his eyes. His cutie mark was a trio of shooting stars, yellow, blue and white. He was currently leaning back in his chair with his hind legs up on his desk, which was strewn with papers and files. A half-empty paper cup with stone-cold coffee sat atop a filing cabinet behind him.
“Waltz,” Phillip said as he and Daring entered. Night Waltz replied with a loud snore.
Daring sighed and leaned in until she was an inch away from his ear. “WAKE UP!” she bellowed. Waltz awakened with a snort and tumbled backward off his chair and onto the floor. He knocked into the filing cabinet, causing the cup of cold coffee to spill all over him.
“Aw, geez!” Night Waltz groaned, standing up and trying to dry himself off. “This is a six hundred-bit suit!”
“Worry about your dry cleaning later,” Phillip stated. “Need your help.”
Night Waltz nodded, setting his hat on the cabinet. “What do you need?”
“Does the name Gold Bar, 67 Whitewash Street, mean anything to you?” Phillip asked.
Night Waltz pondered that for a moment, then turned and opened one of the drawers and began rifling through the files within. After a few seconds, he whipped out a file and opened it up.
“I thought this might come up with the shootings,” he said, showing them a photograph of an auto shop. The one-story brick warehouse had five garage doors set into its front. Set over the door on the far left was a neon sign that read, “Grease Monkey’s Auto Repair.”
“We’ve had this place under surveillance for a long time,” Night Waltz explained. “We suspected them of using their repairponies for running drugs out to places all over the city, including Gold Bar’s place; he’s had a repairpony out there a lot of times. ‘Course, he could just really love that car of his, but still, kind of suspicious. We think that they’re getting drugs from Whitestone’s gang.”
“Whitestone?” Daring asked.
“Griffon,” Waltz replied. “Real nasty piece of work. She and her partner, Roaring, are suspected of piracy up in the Griffon seas, but they’ve always managed to dodge extradition. Now she’s in charge of most of the smuggling and contraband in this city.”
"And you don't search the place why?" Daring asked.
"We've never gotten enough evidence for a warrant," Night Waltz replied. "Ultimately, all we have are rumors and coincidences, not probable cause."
Phillip picked up the photograph of the auto shop and studied it for a moment. “Suppose you found some?”
By the time the duo reached Grease Monkey’s auto shop, the rain was threatening to burst into a full-blown thunderstorm, the rainfall and icy winds increasing by the moment as distant flashes of light flickered through the darkening sky and grumbles of thunder rippling through the heavy air.
Climbing down from the rattling trolley that had carried them down the street, they paused to study their target. The neon sign was flickering on and off, fighting a losing battle to stay lit. All of the sliding sheet metal doors were shut, as if to try to keep the approaching storm out. Faint lights shone through the small windows, allowing them to see flickers of movement inside. An old but still pristine Gray Ghost sat outside the shop, with a sign displaying a list of prices set in the windshield.
“What’s the plan?” Daring asked, turning her coat collar up against the rain.
“No warrants to worry about this time. Best option to making them talk is to find the drugs and anything else they might be hiding,” Phillip replied. “That means we’re gonna have to go in and find it.”
“You’re not planning on just going in through the front door and asking, ‘Hey, where do you keep your drugs,’ are you?” Daring asked with a small half-smile.
“How would you do it?” Phillip asked.
Daring thought for a moment. “First, we’re gonna need to know how many ponies are in there. Then, we’re gonna need a way inside.”
“Ripper. Let’s go,” Phillip nodded. They walked down the street a block, then circled around to approach from behind, studying the rear of the shop. The back wall of the warehouse was a solid brick, with one rear door set into the wall. A couple of old but well-maintained cars were parked in the lot behind the shop. Daring and Phil stole to the door and pressed their backs up against the wall.
Daring plucked a small hoof mirror out of her pocket and started to lift it up, then noticed that Phillip had plucked a compact mirror out of his pocket as well. She stared at the small makeup mirror in her partner’s hoof, noticing the bright green emerald coloring, and snickered quietly.
“I liked the color,” Phillip muttered, his ears turning red.
Both of them held up their mirrors to the window, allowing them to see inside without exposing their heads. The interior of the warehouse was well-lit by the lamps hanging from the ceiling and from the fading sunlight that filtered through the clouds piercing a skylight. There were five hydraulic lifts spread across the oil-stained concrete floor, two of which were currently occupied by trucks. Toolboxes, equipment, stacks of tires, engines, and car parts were scattered about everywhere. A door to what looked like an office was across from their position. There were five mechanics inside the shop: two earth ponies, a unicorn, and two griffons, all of them wearing grease-stained coveralls. They were gathered around one of the trucks, chatting to one another.
Phillip thought in silence for several seconds. “We need to get inside to search.”
“Or one of us does,” Daring said as she snapped her mirror shut. She glanced up and noticed a fuse box set into the wall above them. Grinning, she gave Phil a light punch on the shoulder. “I’ve sacked harder places. Don’t worry about it.”
“You sure?” Phillip asked.
“Hey, didn’t I say not to worry?” Daring said. She reached into an inner pocket in her coat and handed Phillip a small bundle of cherry bombs. “I’m gonna cut the lights in there. When the lights go out, wait ten seconds, then light these and toss them in front of the shop. That should keep their attention long enough for me to sneak in without trouble. I’ll take a quick look around and get out. That office over there looks pretty juicy.”
Phillip nodded and stood, quickly scurrying around out of sight. Daring turned to the lock on the back door. She smirked at the cheap, three-tumbler contraption. At least give me a challenge, boys, she thought, plucking the set of picks from the secret compartment in her wallet. She didn’t even need the magic-cancelling gem for this.
It took her a mere eleven seconds to defeat the lock with a soft click. She then reached into another pocket and pulled out a case for a set of contact lenses and opened it. Inside lay a pair of what looked like normal contact lenses, except for the fact that they seemed to glow faintly green if viewed from the right angle. She plucked the lenses out and carefully placed both of them in her eyes. She waited a few seconds more to give Phillip time to get into position, then opened up the fuse box, revealing a trio of fuses slot into the wall. She lightly tapped one of the fuses then quickly pulled back, expecting a shock. Fortunately, there was no shock. She grasped the fuses and yanked them all out, pocketing them. Inside the auto shop, the lights went out, plunging the warehouse into darkness.
“Hey! What happened to the lights?” she heard a voice call, muffled through the door.
Daring held her hoof on the door, waiting in the rain. A few seconds later, there was a series of sharp popping sounds from the front of the store, followed by shouts of confusion. That was her cue. She opened the door a crack, paused to listen for any signs that she’d been discovered, then opened the door just enough to allow her to slip inside, quickly and silently closing it behind her. Immediately, she ducked behind a stack of tires, pausing to observe and listen. She peeked over the top of the tires.
The enchantment in the contact lenses had not worn off; even in the barely adequate light filtering through the skylight, her vision was almost as clear as day. Whatever enchanter the Family had gotten the magical lenses from, they were very, very good. She could see the mechanics, staggering in confusion at the sudden darkness. The tall gray unicorn lit up his horn with a silvery glow but failed to fully banish the darkness. One of the griffons was walking towards the front door, apparently to check on the noise; the other griffon was glaring around the room, his yellow-brown eyes shining faintly in the dark. The eyes turned towards her hiding place like a pair of spotlights and she ducked back behind the tires.
There was the sound of a door opening and the volume of the rain outside increased. “Who’s out there?” the gray griffon called, stepping outside. Daring began to shuffle towards the office door, slithering from cover to cover. The griffon stepped fully outside to search while the others remained where they were, obviously unsure what was happening or how to react. A shock of lightning flickered across the sky, momentarily illuminating the room, and a rumble of thunder shuddered through the building.
“Gears, check the fuses,” the unicorn grunted. A blue earth pony wearing an oil-stained pair of overalls walked over to the back door, walking right towards Daring. She pressed her back up against a toolbox and closed her breath, holding her breath and remaining as still as she could. Gears passed next to her, so close that she could smell the grease stains on his clothes and his oily, overdone cologne. Gears walked right past her, completely unaware of her presence.
Daring glanced up to make sure that nopony was looking towards her, then quickly darted to the office door. She jiggled the doorknob and let out a soft sigh of relief upon finding that it was unlocked. She checked one more time to make sure that nopony was looking towards her, then carefully pushed the door open, moving slowly to avoid the hinges squeaking, and darted inside, shutting it behind her.
She found herself in a small, sparse office. There was a desk with two metal chairs in front of it and one chair behind it. Papers were spread across the surface of the desk. Behind the desk was a set of metal shelves with several cardboard boxes placed upon them. A single bare bulb was placed in the ceiling above her; there were no photographs or pictures on the walls. The place wasn't as impressive as a grandiose ancient temple with a forbidden treasure tucked away inside, but it would make a suitable setting anyway.
“Right,” Daring whispered to herself. “If I were running drugs out of this place, I’d put them somewhere where a customer wouldn’t find them.” She started to scan the room, sweeping over the bottom area of the walls and observing any details; the crumbling paint on the brickwork, the trash can next to the desk, the tacky orange carpeting. The middle section held nothing of interest, save for the desk and a trio of old cardboard boxes, all of them labeled “Records.” The top section of the room had only more boxes on the top shelf. The walls appeared solid, and the ceiling was made of wooden boards.
Daring walked over to the desk and opened up the drawers on the left side, starting with the bottom one. Unfortunately, there was nothing inside any except some scattered pens, pencils, staplers and tape dispensers. She turned to the boxes, but then the trash can caught her eye.
She bent down and looked into the large metal bin. Inside the can was a plastic bag filled with various garbage—banana peels, apple cores, candy wrappers, half-empty soda cans and beer bottles. The entire thing gave off a repugnant odor that made her nose scrunch. Yet, the sight of the trash inside made something in the back of her mind tingle.
Then she realized: this office looked barely used; the dust on the shelves and the floor attested to that. This clearly wasn’t a place where anypony sat and ate their lunch. So what was all this smelly food waste doing in there?
“Boys, we got a problem!” she heard a voice call through the door.
“Shit,” Daring muttered. Taking in a breath and holding it, she began to dig through the trash, searching for anything of interest. Unfortunately, the most interesting thing she found was a half-eaten carrot dog, still covered in relish and mustard. However, at the bottom of the bag, she felt something metallic. She tried to grasp it, only to realize that it wasn’t in the bag, it was underneath it. Pulling the trash bag out of the can, she looked inside to see something laying at the bottom of the can: a small silver key. Not as impressive as a gold idol, but just as valuable to her at the moment.
If they went through the trouble of hiding it, it must be important, Daring thought, snatching up the key and pocketing it. She turned back to the office door and crept towards it. Pausing on the side opposite the handle, she reached across and pulled the door open a crack, pressing her eye to the gap formed between the door and the frame.
Gears had come back inside and was standing in front of the back door, his face tight and his jaw gritted. “Somepony’s here!” he was saying to the others. “The fuses are all gone!”
The unicorn grunted, his eyes narrowing. He plucked a key out from his coveralls and inserted it into a toolbox next to him, unlocking and opening one of the lower drawers. From this, he extracted a pair of pistols. He handed one to the earth pony, who quickly checked the magazine, then racked the slide. The mechanical cha-click mixed with a deep rumbling of thunder from overhead. The lanky yellow-eyed griffon walked over to another toolbox and pulled out a pair of sawn-off double-barrelled shotguns. He tossed one to Gears, who quickly checked to make sure that it was loaded, then snapped it shut. The gray griffon came back inside, took in the situation at a glance, then reached into a trash can next to the door and extracted a revolver.
The unicorn held up his own pistol and racked the slide. Two beams of light blossomed from his horn, both of which flew to one of the exits. The doors were immediately coated in a silvery shield of energy, preventing anypony from leaving.
“Find them,” the unicorn growled. The armed mechanics spread out to search, their weapons held up and ready to fire.
Daring licked her lips and swallowed. This just keeps getting better.