The Industrial Section in the western regions of the city was one of the more recent expansions to Ponyville. This neighborhood was composed of cheap housing and apartments, several of them placed claustrophobically close to each other; these ramshackle contraptions were intended to provide for cheap housing for the workers that would work in the great brick factories. The smoke and smog that issued from the great smokestacks still hung heavy in the air of the streets and scratched incessantly at the noses and throats of the ponies that bustled to and fro on the sidewalks.
Coughing, Daring followed Phillip around a corner, walking past a long-abandoned gas station. “How can anypony live here?” she asked, shouldering her way through a young couple of unicorns. The mare and stallion both turned and glared at her as she walked past.
“This way,” Phillip said, pointing down a side road. As they passed the corner, both of them spotted a homeless pony, with a scraggly salt and pepper beard sitting up against the brick wall of a convenience store, an empty coffee cup standing upright next to him. Without looking, Phillip extracted a couple of bits from his pocket and dropped them into the cup, where they jingled merrily.
“Holy Mother bless you, sir!” the stallion rasped, picking up the coins and dropping them into his pocket. Neither Phillip or Daring acknowledged his words of praise, continuing down the street.
Eventually, their surroundings changed from brick apartments and stores to wooden condos, most of them painted in dull colors—yellows, greens, whites, browns, and blacks. The sidewalks became less densely populated. Plots of grass, the mostly vibrant green and occasional splashes of color from patches of flowers almost startling amidst the dull colors, reappeared next to the sidewalks, most of them fenced in by uneven pickets or chain-link. Phillip and Daring walked past a two-story house that had two boarded-up windows surrounded by a large square of chain-link fencing. No sooner had Daring noticed the “Beware of Dog” sign stapled to the fence than a huge black Gerwhin Shepherd launched itself at the gate, which rattled and shook like it might fall over. The dog barked and snarled at them, spit flying from its snout. Both ponies leaped away from the fence with a startled shout.
Daring hissed and glared at the offending animal. “I hate dogs,” she growled.
“Not fond of them either,” Phillip grunted.
Daring felt something pressing against her. She glanced down and noticed that Phillip had flung his foreleg across her chest, in an instinctive attempt to shield her from the perceived danger. She turned and smirked at Phillip, who stared at his foreleg as if just realizing that it was there. He lowered it slowly, his ears turning faintly red.
“Let’s move,” he grunted, walking ahead of Daring. Daring followed behind him, still smirking.
They finally reached Twenty-seven Hermit Thrush Street, which turned out to be a two-story apartment building that stood on its own little block, surrounded by a sea of grass that was bridged by a cracked walkway that led to the blue oak door. The white paint on the walls had faded to a pale, bleached yellow and the curtains in every window were drawn.
Phillip and Daring kept walking past the house, watching it out of the corner of their eyes in order to appear uninterested. They walked past the block, then circled around to study the back of the house. The open backyard was devoid of any decorations, save for a half-hearted attempt at creating a hedge along the back property line that resulted in a tangled mass of foot-high bushes. The dark red back door was shut tightly; the two-step set of stairs that led down it was starting to collapse under its own weight, the rotting boards sagging in the middle.
“No sign of anypony,” Phillip muttered.
“Doesn’t mean nopony’s there,” Daring replied as they walked past the house again and started to circle around. “When did you say the cops would be showing up?”
A long black two-door Chevroneigh Fleetracer pulled up to the curb in front of them and stopped, followed by a police cruiser. Phillip looked into the window of the black car and scowled. “Right now,” he grunted.
The door opened and a mare stepped out. She was a unicorn with a snow white coat and a long mane that spilled down her shoulders like water, colored in shades of dark blue. Her pale sapphire eyes were fixed on Phillip with an icy expression. The mare was wearing a black coat, with her prominently displayed police shield worn around her neck. Her cutie mark was a manila folder with a snowflake embossed on the cover.
“Captain,” Phillip greeted her in a flat tone.
“Finder,” the mare replied in a tone that was so icy that Daring almost shivered. “Did you go into the house?”
“No,” Phillip stated as Officer Wheellock exited her cruiser and approached, accompanied by Detective Trace Evidence. Trace shot Phillip and Daring an apologetic look as he approached. Daring shrugged in a conciliatory gesture.
“Good,” the mare in the coat stated. “Can’t have you messing up the evidence and getting our case thrown out of court. Judge Gavel almost refused to sign the warrant when he heard that you were our informant; we’re on shaky legal ground already.”
“Gavel can go fuck—” Daring started to snap, but Phillip put his hoof over her mouth, silencing her. She glared at him, but he refused to look at her.
“Sergeant, Officer, follow me,” the mare declared to Trace and Wheellock as she turned and stormed towards the target house. Wheellock fell into step behind her, with Trace following behind at his usual lackadaisical pace.
“Who’s this?” Daring asked Phillip as they walked after the group.
“Detective Captain Cold Case,” Phillip replied, glaring at the mare’s back.
“Cold being the operative word,” Daring commented. Phillip grunted in assent.
Cold walked up to the front door of the target house and pounded on it with her hoof. “This is the police! We have a warrant!” she barked.
There was no reply from inside. Cold stepped aside and nodded to Trace. His face creasing in concentration, Trace lit up his horn and fired a concussive spell at the door, throwing it fully open and nearly blasting it clean off the hinges.
“Property damage,” Daring commented. “And you wonder why ponies don’t like you guys?”
Captain Cold Case shot Daring a very icy look as she crossed the threshold behind Officer Wheellock and Trace. “Stay out here until we say you can come in,” she ordered them over her shoulder.
Daring huffed in annoyance and leaned against the wall, scowling. Phillip simply sat down on the porch and waited in silence.
After a couple minutes, Wheellock poked her head out of the door. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she reported in a sheepish tone. “The house is clear. Captain Case found something in the basement, she wanted you to have a look at it.” She gestured with her head for the two of them to follow her inside. Daring and Phillip passed through an entry hallway with bare walls decorated in floral blue wallpaper and entered a living room. A trio of old but still firm sofas stood in a circle around a low dark brown coffee table, upon which sat a small stack of mail. A three-foot tall radio set stood in the corner; it was off, but Daring could see on the display that it was tuned to a classical music station. Next to the radio set was a closet, the door partly opened to reveal several shirts, jackets, and coats hung up on racks within, including a blue jacket with red trimmings.
Wheellock gestured to an open door. Phillip and Daring descended down a set of creaking wooden steps into a one-room basement. The room was illuminated by four bare lightbulbs that were set into the low ceiling. Most of the walls were covered in blown up blueprints and street maps, covered in red and blue marker lines that marked entry and exit pathways and potential hazards. Three old card tables were placed in the center of the room, littered with photographs, notebooks that were crammed with barely legible writing, burnt cigarettes, partly empty soda cans and coffee cups, and more blueprints and maps. A dozen chairs were placed around the tables.
Cold Case and Trace Evidence were standing to one side of the room, cast in partial shadows by the inadequate lighting. “Phillip,” Cold said as they entered. “You know what to do.”
“Oh, now she’s glad that we’re here,” Daring scoffed.
Without looking at Cold, Phillip walked to the table and began to circle around it, his eyes scanning the surface and the chairs. He sniffed at the cigarettes and the soda and coffee cups, studied shed hairs and dropped feathers that he plucked from the ground, and studied the floor with a magnifying glass. The minutes ticked by in slow silence; Daring watched from the doorway, Captain Cold Case alternated between glaring at Phillip and glaring at Daring, and Trace just watched Phillip working with a stoic expression, his tail twitching from side to side as he waited.
Finally, Phillip stood up straight. “Well?” Cold asked.
“Not much I can tell you,” Phillip stated, walking over to the single chair at the head of the assembled tables. “Boss sat here. Unicorn mare, long green mane. Likes coffee with lots of sweetener. Wears dark purple lipstick.”
“How can you tell that she’s a unicorn?” Trace asked.
“This coffee cup is hers,” Phillip said, nodding to an empty plastic cup sitting in front of the table. There was a purple lipstick stain on the lip of the cup. “No hoofmarks on it.”
Cold and Trace both nodded in understanding. Phillip walked around to the chair on the right, closest to the head. “Number two sat here,” he reported. “Purple hair. Not a unicorn, possibly an earth pony. Tall and heavy, based on the marks on the floor from the chair.” He plucked a half-eaten apple from the table and examined the bites. “Biggest bloody overbite I’ve ever seen. And he smokes, too.” He sniffed at some small circular burns on the side of his chair.
“Anything else useful?” Cold asked.
“Not much,” Phillip shrugged. “I could give you some physical descriptions, but there’s little to go on.”
“You did your best, Phil,” Daring stated.
“I was hoping for better,” Cold snorted. She stared around the room. “These plans, I recognize some of them. That’s for the First Bank,” she stated, pointing at a detailed sketch for a bank vault. “And that’s a floor plan for the movie theater,” she added, nodding at another enlarged sketch tacked up to the wall across from her.
“If we could place all of these plans, we might be able to figure out where they’re planning to hit next,” Trace suggested.
“Fine,” Cold nodded. “But that’s something that we can handle ourselves,” she added, turning to Phillip. “If you two can’t contribute anything further, get out of my crime scene.” With that, she turned around and started studying the plans on the walls, resolutely ignoring him.
Phillip glared at her for a moment, but Trace caught his eye and shook his head slightly. With a quiet sigh, Phillip turned and walked towards the door, gesturing with his head for Daring to exit with him. Daring opened her mouth in preparation to launch a very vigorous protest, but he silenced her with a glare. Scowling, Daring followed Phillip back up the stairs into the living room of the safe house.
“What a bitch!” Daring hissed as soon as she was sure that they were out of earshot.
“Cold fought tooth and hoof to get where she is,” Phillip stated. “And she’s on our side, no worries about that.”
“She could maybe act like it,” Daring snarled. “Do all of the cops in the PPD hate you?”
“It’s not worth getting hot under the collar over,” Phillip shrugged.
“After all the shit you do for them?” Daring replied, whirling around on him.
“We do,” Phillip corrected. “And I’m not in this business for ponies to like me. Didn’t think you were either.”
“I’m not,” Daring answered. “But I don’t appreciate ponies talking shit about us, either.”
Phillip just shrugged and turned to exit. Daring scowled, took one last look around the room, and followed him out. They pushed through the front door and walked outside; Officer Wheellock, who was standing outside the door, nodded to them as they walked past.
“So what do we do now?” Daring asked, turning up her collar against the frosty wind that was assailing her coat.
“Can’t do much of anything here,” Phillip stated. “Don’t have enough info to go on right now. We have to wait and see what happens next.”
“I hate waiting for stuff to happen,” Daring grumbled.
“Tell you what,” Phillip said, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “Let’s find a bottle-o that has Manticore Rare and brainstorm some ideas.”
Daring’s ears instantly stood up at the word “Manticore.” “You sweet talker, you,” she purred, nuzzling against Phil’s side and giggling at the scarlet coloring that spread across his ears.
They found a small liquor store not far down the street and purchased two bottles of Manticore Rare. They sat on a bench on the sidewalk, sipping their bottles and watching the ponies pass by.
“You have any ideas on where the thieves are gonna hit next?” Phil asked.
“I’m sure Captain Frost can figure that out on her own—” Daring started to grumble, but then stopped. Her eyes widened slowly.
“What is it?” Phillip asked, sitting up straight.
“The uniform in the closet,” Daring muttered, tapping her head in thought. “I know I’ve seen that logo before…” She closed her eyes and tried to settle her mind, struggling to recall the living room: the sights, the sounds, the odors, and sensations.
Something tried to bring itself to her attention, like an itch in her skull, demanding her immediate focus. Forcing out the residual image of Cold Case glaring at her, she followed the trail that her instincts were laying out for her. At the end of the tracks was the pile of mail that had been on the table. She tried to recall the addresses on the envelopes, forcing them out of her subconscious memory…
“The bank!” she cried.
“What bank?” Phillip asked.
“In the closet of the house, there was a uniform for a security guard at the Ritz Bank,” Daring stated. “And one of the envelopes on the table was from the Ritz Bank; looked like a paycheck. One of our thieves works for the bank!”
“You sure?” Phillip asked.
“I scouted out the Ritz dozens of times myself for potential jobs in the Family,” Daring said. “I know what their uniforms look like.”
Phillip stood up, tossing his partly full bottle of whiskey into a nearby recycling can. “Well, let’s have a go at it,” he declared, straightening his vest. “The Ritz is only a half mile from here, easy walk—”
Daring grinned and chucked her bottle into the can as well. A moment later, a gray streak swooped up into the sky, accompanied by a squawk of surprise and protest.
“It’s only half a bloody mile, I said!”
The Ritz Bank, named after the pony who founded it generations ago, was a modestly sized establishment, but it made up for its size with its haughty beauty and visibility. White brick formed the front wall, with the bank’s name spelled out in two-inch high gold lettering over the revolving glass door.
Phillip and Daring entered the door and found themselves inside a great circular lobby. Their hooves sunk into the plush golden-red carpeting. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting them all in a luminous yellow glow. Marble countertops formed an arch that spanned across half of the room’s circumference; behind the countertops were several ponies in red-breasted suits, assisting customers with their business. On the opposite side of the room were several doors that led to offices. A security guard in a blue jacket with red trimmings stood next to the door, studying them with a friendly but professional gaze. Across from them was a large portrait of the bank’s founder, Glitter Ritz herself, a golden earth pony mare with long green and golden locks, dressed in an ivory white dress with jewels sewn into the golden trim.
“May I help you?” a teller asked, approaching them. The blonde-maned unicorn with the golden brown coat eyed them over a pince-nez.
“We need to speak to a manager,” Phillip said. “We have a few questions about a recent hire of yours.”
“Ah,” the teller nodded. “I shall pass your message along. Please wait here.” He gestured them towards a grouping of cushions that sat around a low table loaded with magazines and newspapers to the side, then turned and strode away.
Phillip and Daring walked over to the miniature lounge and settled themselves down on the rich cushions. Daring grabbed a recent copy of the Foal Free Press off the table and turned to the crossword puzzle, while Phillip took the time to study the other ponies in the room. Customers flowed in and out of the door, some only staying long enough to speak with a teller, some entering or exiting the offices.
“You really think that these thieves are connected to the ponies that were killing the Disciples?” Daring asked, sucking on a cap of an old plastic pen.
“It’s a possibility,” Phillip replied, still looking around the lobby with an expression of disinterest on his face.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Daring said. “So far, they’ve only been after other criminals, right?”
Phillip didn’t reply. “So maybe,” Daring continued. “Maybe they’re like us. Maybe they’re just trying to—”
“Heads up,” Phil whispered. Daring looked up at him, noticing that even though he was seemingly studying the portrait of Glitter Ritz on the far wall, his posture had stiffened slightly and he had lowered his right hoof close to the pocket that she knew contained his baton.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Earth pony at teller seven,” Phillip whispered, not looking around at her. “Purple mane, pale gold body. Cutie mark of a gray hoofprint.”
Without turning her head, Daring panned her peripheral gaze across the room and spotted the pony. He was sitting in front of a teller, a nervous smile flickering and faltering on his face. He wore a badly pressed white dress shirt and a mustard yellow tie that clashed horribly with his everything. His silvery eyes darted about behind his thick glasses. A black briefcase sat on the ground next to him.
“All right then, sir,” the burro behind the counter said, smiling as he flicked through some papers in front of him. “In order to open an account, I’ll need a full name.”
“Er…” the pale golden pony said, licking his lips. Daring noticed his large overbite and yellowing teeth as he spoke. “R-Robin Debank.”
“I see,” the teller said, scribbling down some notes with a pen. “Now, I will also need—”
“Wait,” the pony interrupted, making eye contact with the teller for the first time. “Um...my name is kind of unusual. Could you just...make sure you got it right?”
“I am certain that I have it correct, sir,” the teller replied patiently. “Now, if you—”
“Could you...you just say it out loud for me?” the pony asked, his voice subtly rising to a vaguely desperate pitch.
The smile fell off the teller’s face. “Robin Debank,” he stated.
“What was that?” the pony asked, leaning forward as though he hadn’t heard.
The teller sighed. “You are Robin Debank?” he said.
“MADE YOU SAY IT!” the pony crowed, his nervous demeanor instantly disappearing as he stood up straight. He reached underneath his shirt and whipped out a small black remote, holding it high up into the air. Every eye in the room turned towards the pony, focusing on the foreign object.
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” the pony yelled, clicking the remote.
Instantly, Phillip whirled around and tackled Daring to the floor, shielding her with his body. As he did so, the briefcase exploded like thunder, blanketing the entire lobby in thick clouds of smoke. Screams of panic rose from the crowd, and there was a thundering of hooves as everypony made a mad scramble for the closest exit. Fire alarms in the ceiling began to blare, and the automatic sprinklers activated, drenching everypony with gallons of cold water. Cackling, the pony with the overbite dashed across the room and into one of the offices; the security guard at the door followed him, barking instructions and orders into the radio that he had pulled from his belt in between coughs and wheezes.
Coughing and choking on smoke and water, Daring squinted her eyes to see, but the vapors stung at her eyes, making them water. Phil’s weight shifted off of her, and she felt his hoof running down her drenched shoulder and foreleg. On instinct, she grabbed his hoof and gripped it tight; the knowledge that he was next to her was comforting to her.
“What do we do?” she shouted through her coughing. A blinded pony slammed into her and she was nearly pulled away from her partner; she instinctively tightened her grip on his hoof. Phillip let out a hiss of pain in response.
“Smoke bomb’s a distraction,” Phillip said. “We need to get inside, get to the vault. That’s where they’ll be.”
“Got it!” Daring called and started to push forward through the smoke. Phil reached around and grabbed the back of her shirt; she used her free hoof to guard her face, protecting her from other ponies that ran into her in the darkness.
“Can you clear out this smoke?” Phillip asked, coughing.
Spreading her wings, Daring began to flap them forward, creating a gust of wind that blew the smoke aside and flinging water forward. The clouds were too thick to clear completely, but the wind helped her to see more clearly; she could make out the shapes of furniture and ponies. She squinted around through her dripping bangs, spotted a door behind the counter where the tellers stood, and began to march determinedly towards it. Phil followed behind her. Daring roughly pushed ponies out of the way as she pushed through the smoke.
They reached the door and Daring seized the handle, but it refused to open. Growling in frustration, she turned and shifted her weight onto her forelegs, preparing to buck the door down.
But then something dangled in front of her face, catching her attention and making her pause. Phillip was standing in front of her, holding up a set of keys that he’d taken from the belt of the terrified teller that was cowering underneath the table.
“Right,” Daring said with a small smile, taking the keys and quickly flicking through them. She settled on a short silver one and inserted it into the lock. It turned fully and Daring pushed the door open. Behind the door was a long hallway, with only a few doors inserted into the walls.
“If I remember right,” Daring said, shaking her head and flinging water everywhere, including all over Phillip, “The door to the vault is at the end of this hallway.” She proceeded forward at a fast trot to the doorway at the end and began to sort through the keys, looking for the right one.
“Wait,” Phillip cut her off, laying a dripping hoof on her shoulder. He pressed his ear against the door and listened intently, blocking out the continuing fire alarms and shouting from the main lobby, as well as the wailing of approaching police sirens that were sounding from outside. On the other side of the door, he could hear heavy breathing from four different voices on the other side and four sets of nervously shifting hooves.
“Four security guards on the other side of that door,” he reported. “They’re facing this way.”
“Of course,” Daring nodded. “At the first sign of trouble, they’d go to block the vault. This isn’t the thieves’ target.”
“But then, what is?” Phillip asked.
Daring thought for a moment. “The jewel room!” she cried. “The Ritz does jewel evaluations, they’d probably have a bunch of gems here.”
“Where?” Phillip asked.
“This way,” Daring said, turning and heading back up the hallway. She stopped at a door on the left side and quickly selected a key from the ring. Inserting it into the lock, she twisted it and unlocked the door, pushing it wide open.
Inside was a long room, with several desks equipped with table-mounted magnifying glasses, balance scales, and boxes of equipment for studying and valuing gems. At the end of the room was an open safe. A security guard, a dark red unicorn mare with her green mane tied up in a bun and the cutie mark of a trio of orange stars, was standing in front of the safe, shoveling the multicolored stones into an open sack. She whirled around in surprise at being caught.
“Drop them,” Phillip ordered, running towards the thief and drawing his baton.
The guard responded by tossing the bag of jewels at Phil’s head, forcing him to duck. The unicorn lunged at him, her right hook flying at his jaw. He struck the inside of her foreleg with his baton and swung at her head, but she ducked beneath him and darted past him, moving with surprising speed. Grinning, the mare bucked Phillip in the side, causing him to fall to the ground with a grunt of pain.
Daring launched herself at the thief with her wings, spiraling up into the air to perform a flying kick. The unicorn created a bright orange shield in front of herself, blocking the attack and causing Daring to tumble to the ground clumsily. She landed on all fours and immediately followed up with a one-two buck. The kicks slammed into the shield with the force of a pair of sledgehammers, causing the thief to stumble backward.
Recovering from the blow, Phillip swept his baton across the mare’s hind legs, striking at her ankles and knocking her legs out from beneath her. The mare rolled over onto her back and fired a concussive spell at Phil, striking him in the chest. He flew backward and smashed into the wall, then slid to the floor, groaning.
The mare fired another spell at Daring, but Daring flew straight up into the air to avoid it, then dropped down like a hammer, driving her knee into the floor as the mare rolled out of the way and got to her hooves. The thief launched a punch at Daring with her right hoof, and Daring stepped back to avoid it.
But as the offending hoof passed in front of her face, Daring’s eyes widened. She saw a mark on the frog of the mare’s hoof: a set of crude red lines that formed the rough shape of a keyring. Like a light switch being turned on, Daring suddenly recognized the mare’s rounded face and her cutie mark of orange stars.
“Sparks?” she asked.
The other mare froze, her hoof hanging in midair. “Daring?” she whispered.