//------------------------------// // Case Four, Chapter Nine: The Spark Dances // Story: Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// The ambulance arrived within minutes, red and white lights piercing the rain as it pulled up to where the group stood waiting. Two paramedics disembarked and set to work examining Flash, casting medical scans over his body and repairing some of his more minor wounds. “Will he be okay?” Prowl asked, watching the medics as they carefully placed Flash up onto a stretcher. “Burns and bruising, but nothing too serious,” one of the medics assured her. “We’ll give him some regnenerative spells and potions, and he’ll be fine in a couple of days.” “Good,” Prowl said, stepping forward and bending over Flash. Flash, who was wrapped up in a blanket and had bandages wrapped around his torso and forelegs, blinked up at her. “Ma’am, I—ow!” Flash cried out as Prowl smacked him over the head with her wing. “If you ever do something that stupid again, I’ll have your badge before you can say ‘oops,’” Prowl said, her soft voice carrying more anger than any shout ever could. “We are a team, Sentry. We work together, not apart. We protect each other, like I should have been protecting you. You could’ve been killed out here. From now on, no more solo investigations. If you think you might have a lead on a case, you tell Bumblebee and I about it. Clear?” “Crystal, ma’am,” Flash said, affecting a salute. He cast his eyes downward, biting his lip in shame. “I suppose you’ll be writing me up for insubordination,” he said. Prowl cocked her head in thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I think you’ve been punished enough for this already,” she said. She reached down and squeezed his hoof momentarily. “Get better, Sentry. We need as many good ponies on these streets as we can get.” “Yes, ma’am,” Flash nodded. The paramedics carried him back to the ambulance and carefully loaded him into the back, closed the doors, and the ambulance pulled away, its siren wailing. Meanwhile, a trio of police officers were helping Bumblebee carry the cuffed security guards into the back of a paddy wagon. The dark green unicorn glowered at Phillip and Daring as he was ushered inside and placed on the bench, but said nothing. The doors of the wagon were slammed shut and the vehicle started back to the precinct. Bumblebee walked back over to Phillip and Daring, taking out the notebook upon which he’d written down notes from their brief interrogation of the guards. “So let me get this straight,” Bumblebee said. "These houses are built out of shoddy materials and Tinderspark burns them down so that Monopoly gets the insurance payments to himself, and so the city has to pay him more to get the construction back on time. Plus, he has her and her partner burn down the houses of ponies who won't sell to him." "That's right," Phillip nodded. "But how does a pipeline fit into this?" Bumblebee asked. Phillip squinted through the rain at the road that led up to the security gate and into the forest, the dirt turning into mud beneath the constant rain. "Eminent domain," he finally said. "How's that?" Bumblebee asked. "This land is in the way of the oil pipeline," Phillip said. "The Crown would have to claim this land under eminent domain and pay out Monopoly for it." "And if the land is developed, that jacks up the price," Daring picked up, understanding dawning in her eyes. "But if the houses are all fake--" "Monopoly defrauds the Crown for millions," Phillip nodded. “So on one hoof, insurance fraud. On the other, there's a maniac on the loose, and she’s got this magical rock that lets her conjure dragonfire,” Bee added. "Never easy, is it?" Daring commented. “Bee, we need to get a description of Tinderspark out from the precinct and put a BOLO out on her,” Prowl instructed, having heard the conversation. “On it, chief,” Bee said, hurrying back to their cruiser. Phillip scowled at the clouds overhead. “Bloody rain. Erased any tracks of her leaving.” “They said she left on hoof a few minutes before we got here,” Prowl stated. “She can’t have gotten far.” “Boss!” Bumblebee shouted from the cruiser, his hoof clutching the hoofset. “There’s a call about a burning corpse found on the side of the road a few blocks from here.” The ponies all looked at one another, then quickly climbed into the cruiser and sped to respond to the call, siren wailing and lights spinning. As Bumblebee skidded across the soaked tarmac, the BOLO for Tinderspark came over the radio, punctuated by the snaps, crackles, and pops of static: “Suspect is an earth pony mare, orange coat, red-orange hair, cutie mark of a burning matchstick. Extensive burn scarring on face, torso, and forelegs. May be wearing turnout jacket, boots, and gas mask. Suspect is armed with a pyromancer artifact and is extremely dangerous. Do not attempt to capture alone. Officers are authorized to use lethal force in capture.” The scene of the burning body was a stretch of road near the border of the Everfree Forest. Along one side of the road were the thick, skeletal trees that marked the Forest’s territory, very little light managing to claw through the heavy cover of branches and leaves. On the other side was nothing but overgrown grass and weeds, with occasional street lamps providing illumination for the frightened traveler. A set of glowing yellow flames splayed across the asphalt marked their objective. Bumblebee shivered as they pulled up. “I hate being this close to the Forest,” he muttered. “Me, too,” Prowl agreed. “That place gives me the creeps.” Bee parked the cruiser, leaving the red and whites on, and they exited the vehicle. “You know, it’s kind of fishy how Tinderspark ran just as we were coming,” Daring said, turning up her coat collars against the wind and rain. “It is odd,” Phillip agreed. “But worry about it later.” They gathered around the corpse. The body was that of a well-built earth pony stallion, his coat blue. He wore a thick dark green fishing vest with a white undershirt, and his cutie mark was that of a hoofprint on a rock. The pony’s head was aflame, bright yellow flames coating his skull; only a few bits of his flesh remained. Horrifically, the skull’s jaw was hanging open, as though the pony was still screaming in pain. The body was splayed across the road and the grassy land between the asphalt and the trees. “More nightmare fuel. Great,” Daring commented flatly, keeping her distance from the corpse. Prowl pulled out a fire extinguisher that she’d taken from the cruiser and sprayed a jet of concentrated water at the flames. Instead of extinguishing, the flames hissed back at her and flared, brighter and hotter than before. “Dragonfire,” Phillip grunted, taking off his vest and placing it over the corpse’s head, smothering the flames. “You think Twilight could make wards like that for our uniforms?” Bumblebee asked, looking intrigued. “Probably not, Bee,” Prowl explained. “Wards aren’t only hard to set up, they do need to be updated every so often. She’d be too busy recharging everypony’s wards to do any work, and it’d tire her out; it might even make her sick and kill her. We had similar issues with placing wards on soldiers’ uniforms.” “Oh,” Bee said, his ears flattening a little. Phillip was going through the victim’s vest, turning out his pockets for any evidence. “Hunter,” he muttered, glancing at then tossing aside a small field guide to tracking wildlife. Further investigation uncovered a first aid kit, a pocketknife, assorted bits, and a wallet containing a driver’s license for Mud Tracker. “Missing something,” Phillip muttered. “Where’s his keys?” “No way he was out here on hoof,” Daring mused, frowning. Bumblebee cast his flashlight about the street. “Hey, look, over there,” he pointed towards the side of the road a few feet from the body. “Tire tracks.” Phillip walked over and carefully bent over the tracks, which curved off the road, then back onto it. He swept his flashlight over the mud-splattered marks. “Pattern looks like a Four Horsepower. Wide tires, deep marks. Heavy vehicle. Probably a truck,” he muttered. He stood up and looked around again. Some feet away was a telephone pole that had a sizable dent in the side of the wood. Phillip walked over and examined the dent and the ground around it. He picked up some pieces of orange plastic on the ground. “Broke the headlight,” he muttered, studying the dent with his magnifying glass. “White paint. We’re looking for a white Four Horsepower pickup truck with a broken right headlight, possibly something in the back based on the weight.” “Got it,” Prowl nodded, already headed back to the cruiser. But before she could reach the hoofset, the radio crackled to life. “Dispatch calling Pawn Five-Three.” Prowl clicked the hoofset. “Go, Dispatch.” “Relay message from hospital. Officer Sentry reports he overheard Tinderspark saying, quote, ‘Burn her and her animals,’ end quote, before leaving.” “Her animals…” Daring whispered, her eyes widening in horror. “She’s headed for Fluttershy’s place!” Everypony piled into the vehicle and Prowl floored the accelerator, switching on the lights and sirens and calling for immediate backup as they sped across the rain-spattered street. They reached the street where Fluttershy’s cottage stood within minutes. Prowl pulled over to the side of the road, lights still spinning, and the four exited. The dark clouds had set the street in an unnatural darkness. The lights of Fluttershy’s cottage were dark; it didn’t appear that she was home. “Daring, you and I search for the truck from the skies,” Prowl instructed. “Phillip, you and Bee search on hoof. Detain any suspicious ponies.” With that, the two mares both flew up into the sky and began to circle over the rooftops. Bumblebee and Phillip walked the sidewalks, scanning the passing cars for any white pickup trucks. Pedestrians on the street gave them a wide berth as they walked up and down; Phillip noticed a flicker of movement in a window as he passed by that quickly vanished when he turned to look. The purple and orange lights of the Nightmare Night decorations cast everything in a strange glow, and reflected off the puddles of rainwater. A vaguely pony-shaped bundle of rags huddled up in the shadows of an alleyway shivered in the cold. “There!” Prowl suddenly shouted. Everypony turned to see a white pickup truck trundling up the street. The blue and white Four Horsepower logo was embossed on the front of the vehicle; the right headlight was broken and cracked. Bumblebee immediately raced out to the truck and paused on the sidewalk in front of it, drawing his sidearm and aiming it at the windshield. “Stop!” he barked. With a screech of tires, the truck halted. Prowl landed next to the truck and ripped the driver’s door open. “Out of the fucking truck!” she snarled, grabbing the driver, yanking them out of the vehicle, and tossing them violently onto the ground. She quickly turned around to pin the driver to the ground. “What did I do?! What did I do?!” the mare wailed. The officers both froze in shock. The mare wasn’t an orange earth pony with long reddish-orange hair: it was a small pale blue mare with short white-blue hair, her green eyes wide with terror and confusion. “Shit,” Prowl muttered as Bumblebee checked the cab. “Where’d you get this truck?” “Somepony I passed on the street tossed me the keys and said I could have it!” the mare babbled. “I don’t know who it was, I didn’t see their face! I’m sorry!” “Hey!” a voice barked. “What are you doing?” Several ponies had gathered around the group and were watching with anger in their eyes. “Fucking cops, you’re all the same!” the speaker, Coal Dust, snarled. “Brutalizing ponies for no good reason cause you got nothing better to do!” “You were gonna shoot her, weren’t you, pig?” an older mare snapped at Bumblebee. “No, listen, it was a mistake—” Bumblebee started to explain. “A mistake you yanked her out of a truck?” a zebra mare shouted back. “Back off!” Prowl snapped at the crowd, half-raising her sidearm. “We’re not doing nothing, copper!” Coal Dust shouted. “Like that means anything to you!” “You beat us up, lock us up, shoot us!” another voice called from the crowd. “Using your badges to trample on us!” came another voice. “What’s going on?” a voice asked behind Phillip and Daring. Fluttershy had just walked up from behind them, wearing a thick rain jacket and carrying a couple bags of groceries on her back. “Fuck the police!” Coal Dust spat at Prowl, who glared back at him. “Fuck the police! Fuck the police! Fuck the police!” the crowd began to chant, raising their hooves in time with the chant. The officers were surrounded by the crowd; Prowl had tensed up and was still half-raising her revolver, while Bumblebee was looking around frantically, obviously having no idea what to do. “Wait! Listen, please!” Fluttershy cried, starting towards the crowd and trying to push through them. “Listen to me!” she plead, but her voice was drowned out. Daring turned to Phillip, opening her mouth to speak, but abruptly stopped. The hairs on the back of her neck seemed to stand up and her muscles tensed; some animal instinct, finely turned over the years, warned her of danger. Sensing her distress and guessing the reason for it, Phillip looked around, ignoring the crowd, searching for any sign of trouble. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the pony in the alleyway stand up, the rags falling off their body. A bright yellow glow illuminated their hoof. Daring saw it as well and felt her heart leap right into her throat. “EVERYPONY DOWN!” she screamed, lunging forward and diving on top of Fluttershy, tackling her to the ground. With a great roar, a huge yellow fireball flew through the air, aimed at the truck. Ponies screamed and fled. Prowl grabbed the mare that she’d mistaken for Tinderspark and pushed her ahead of her as she and her partner ran for cover. The fireball struck the truck and the vehicle exploded with a tremendous thunderclap, lighting up the entire block. A wave of heat and pressure washed over Daring; she clamped her jaws tight together as she felt her unprotected skin blistering and boiling, but the ward in her vest did its work, protecting her from the worst of the flames. She clung tightly to Fluttershy’s body. The wave passed as quickly as it came, leaving Daring panting and trembling. Recovering herself, she pulled herself off of Fluttershy, who was trying to get back to her hooves. “Are you okay?” she shouted over the ringing in her ears. “I...I’m fine…” Fluttershy stammered, shaking all over. Daring looked around, staggering. Ponies were scattered everywhere, thrown by the explosion. A relieved sigh escaped her as she saw Phillip standing up, shaking his head and recovering his hat. Prowl and Bumblebee were both standing up. Other ponies were climbing back to their hooves, some of them trying to flee. A few were aflame, flailing or rolling around in agony. The truck was reduced to a pile of flaming wreckage. A loud, wheezing cackle reached Daring’s ears. She turned around to see that the pony from the alleyway had fully emerged into the street. The figure wore a turnout jacket and a gas mask; her coat was a burnt orange color and her mane and tail were a long, fiery reddish-orange. She wore the Dragon’s Spark around her neck, the carved eye seeming to glow dark red, and there was a yellow fireball in her hoof. “Let’s see you take this back from me now!” Tinderspark screeched, flinging the fireball at Prowl and Bumblebee’s cruiser. The vehicle exploded with another great thunderclap, flames once again lighting up the sky. Ponies ran for their lives, screaming. Reorienting herself, Fluttershy seized a pony that was laying on the ground, moaning feebly and whimpering from the pain of the burns spread across his back, and dragged them a safe distance away behind another car. Ripping off her rain jacket, she pressed it down across the burns, speaking reassuringly to the victim. Daring flew over to join her, with Phillip sprinting across and sliding behind the car. Prowl and Bumblebee both sprinted for the cover of another parked car. Immediately, Prowl leaned around the side and opened fire at Tinderspark. The pyromaniac conjured up a wall of fire; the lead bullets melted as soon as they touched the white-hot flame, spattering against her fireproof jacket. Cackling, Tinderspark threw another fireball at the car. Prowl grabbed Bumblebee and took to the air, carrying them both away just as the fireball struck the car and detonated it. Alighting in an alleyway, Prowl and Bumblebee both ran for cover. “Run, pigs! Run!” Tinderspark howled, throwing a jet of flames at the house they were hiding behind. The entire facade burst into flame as though it were made of paper; the Nightmare Night decorations in the windows and on the porch caught alight, the flames making the facsimiles of Nightmare Moon even eerier. Screams sounded from within. Phillip turned and grasped Daring’s shoulder with his hoof. “Please tell me you have a smoke bomb,” he hissed. Daring reached into her pocket and extracted a single black sphere of tightly-packed aluminum foil, which she handed to Phillip. At the same moment, Fluttershy stood up and started to run towards the burning house. “Fluttershy, stop!” Phillip shouted, grabbing her tail and pulling her back behind cover. “There are ponies in there, I have to help them!” Fluttershy cried, looking towards the burning homes with terror. Tinderspark was setting the other houses on fire, cackling madly as she did so. “It’s too dangerous!” Daring shouted back. “We have to put out the fires somehow!” Fluttershy shouted. “We can’t just let these ponies die!” Daring opened her mouth to reply and a drop of rainwater splashed into her open mouth. Looking up, she studied the rain clouds over their heads, dropping a slow, steady sheet of water down on them. “I have an idea,” she said. “If the two of us can make a cloud big and thick enough, that might be enough water to douse the fires.” “I have to try to get the Spark away from her,” Phillip said, a grim expression on his face. “Or at least keep her busy long enough for backup to arrive.” “But—” Daring started to say, but stopped herself. She glanced up over the car to see Tinderspark hurling fireballs at Bumblebee, who had to duck back behind cover again. She turned back to Phillip and nodded resolutely, briefly gripping his shoulders. “Be careful,” she breathed. He gripped her shoulders back; she could feel him trembling slightly. “I will be,” he said. He unzipped his vest and draped it around his shoulder, gripping it like a shield, and handed her his hat. She tucked it carefully inside her shirt. Poking his head over the car that they crouched behind, Phillip took three deep breaths, clutching the smoke bomb, then broke cover and ran towards Tinderspark. The pyromaniac was currently holding a wall of flame between herself and Prowl, laughing as slag from Prowl’s melted bullets struck her gas mask and jacket. “Oi, wanker!” Phillip shouted, tossing the smoke bomb at her. Tinderspark turned just in time for the smoke bomb to detonate at her hooves, blinding her. Tinderspark immediately hurled a jet of fire at where she last saw Phillip, but Phillip rolled underneath the fire and sprang into the air, delivering a flying kick to Tinderspark’s barrel, sending her tumbling onto the ground. Tinderspark fired a jet of fire at him, but he blocked it with the warded vest as he closed in. He delivered a swift kick to Tinderspark’s jaw, but she drew a knife from beneath her jacket and slashed at him. Phillip yelled in pain and stumbled back as the blade cut a deep gash into his hind leg, quickly dropping and rolling away to regain some distance. Up above, Daring seized a hoofful of clouds, feeling the cold, wet softness squishing in her hooves, and pushed them against each other, forming a bigger, darker cloud. Frantically, she began to gather every cloud she could reach and pressed them all together into one larger ball, like making clay for a sculpture. A big, wet sculpture made of clay that was raining on her and frequently trying to run away on gusts of wind. Fluttershy set to work as well, gathering up as many clouds as she could into larger spheres, panting and muttering to herself in fright as she worked. A fireball roared past Daring, missing her by mere inches. A yelp of fright tumbled out of her lips before she could stop herself and she glanced down. Tinderspark had gotten back to her hooves and was hurling fireballs at everything that moved. She watched as Bumblebee sprinted across the street and dove behind a tree; a fireball struck the tree and it instantly bloomed into flame. Phillip threw his boomerang at Tinderspark, but she tossed a fireball at it and vaporized it in midair. Tinderspark started throwing more flames at Phillip, who rolled and did a backwards hoofspring to avoid the deadly projectiles. One of them struck a surveillance crystal on a pole, incinerating the crystal and turning it into a puddle of blue and red goo that dripped down onto the ground. Far away from the battle, Charles August Silvertongue stared at a projected image in front of him. He watched as the fireball flew right at his face, enveloping the entire projection, then the image went white. "Damn her." Silvertongue took a sip of Amontillado out of the glass that floated beside his head, stroking the crystal on the long black table in front of him. The image switched to another view of the street. He watched as the mad arsonist threw up another wall of flames to protect herself from the batpony’s gunfire, using it as cover to close the distance. Finder intercepted her by vaulting over a fence and kicking her to the ground, but had to immediately roll out of the way of another fireball. A flash of lightning lit up the sky outside, briefly illuminating the black room with its scarlet red curtains. The huge ebony clock standing behind Silvertongue chimed out the hour in a deep voice. The telephone next to Silvertongue rang. Silvertongue seized the hoofset and held it up to his ear. “You are watching this, right?” Monopoly’s voice said into his ear. The businesspony’s voice was slightly frantic. “Yes,” Silvertongue said, swirling his wine. “From what I heard from the scanners, backup is still at least two minutes away. I’m not sure that Finder, Do, or the officers will survive this.” “I don’t give a fuck about them!” Monopoly snapped. “This whole thing has gone to shit: I should’ve known it would after that idiot at Phoenix killed Gold Dust. She’s out of control.” “I warned you that setting her up as the terrorist patsy and giving her the Spark would end badly," Silvertongue chastised him, watching as Tinderspark set yet another house on fire. "If you'd listened to me, this madness would never have taken place." “Turn the Spark off,” Monopoly growled. “The only way we can recover from this is if she’s taken down by herself, without the chance to bring any of us down with her.” Silvertongue turned to the other pony in the room. “Do it,” he ordered. Zugzwang, whose empty black eyes had been fixed on the projection the entire time, extracted his goldleaf cigarette from his mouth and placed it in an ashtray on the table. Taking out a sheet of paper and setting it down on the table, he drew an image of the Dragon’s Spark on it, then drew a circle around it. He began to draw runes inside the circle, like numbers on a clock face. This completed, he took his cigarette and tapped some ashes into the circle, then bit his lip and spat into the ashes, wetting it with his saliva and blood. Finally, he closed his eyes in concentration. Taking in a deep breath, he lit up his horn with a pale golden aura. The drawing began to glow with the same-colored aura, the ashes hissing as a faint trail of smoke lifted up from the pile. “Kühl,” Zugzwang whispered in his native tongue. The word was spoken softly, but with all the force of a bullet flying from a gun, projecting his will through the circle, which amplified it, sending it across space; invisible, intangible, but still very real and very powerful. “Kühl, kühl, kühl wie Stein.” Phillip pounced on Tinderspark, tightly wrapping his vest around her body and squeezing her tight in a bear hug. He rammed his knees into her sides repeatedly as they fought back and forth, each trying to disrupt the other’s balance. Jets of flame danced around their hooves as Tinderspark tried to burn her way through the cloth. “Finder, out of the way!” Prowl shouted, her revolver up and primed. Leaning away, Phillip pulled the vest off Tinderspark and kicked her in the stomach as he dropped onto his back, landing hard on the sidewalk. Tinderspark stumbled, but kept her hoofing. Prowl’s gun barked, a single shot like a thunderclap. Tinderspark grunted in pain as a streak of red blossomed from her torso. With an animalistic noise that was a half-yell, half-crazed laugh, Tinderspark threw a bright red fireball at Prowl. The fireball struck the ground in front of Prowl and exploded in a plume of flames. Prowl screamed as she was hurled backward, her gun flying from her hoof: she crashed into a telephone pole and slumped to the ground, laying still. “Prowl!” Bumblebee screamed. He stood up from behind the dumpster he was hiding behind, took aim at Tinderspark, and pulled the trigger. But the look of twisted fury on his face was replaced with one of shock and horror when the gun clicked on empty. Tinderspark turned towards him, gathering flame into her raised hoof. Phillip rushed in, leaving his vest laying on the ground, and delivered a hard roundhouse kick to Tinderspark’s side, aiming for the bullet wound. A yell of pain escaped from beneath her gas mask and she staggered, turning back towards Phillip. Seizing her by the jacket, Phillip pushed her backwards as he hooked his hindleg behind both of hers, dumping her on her back in a perfect outer reap takedown. Perfect except for Tinderspark seizing him about the neck and dragging him down with her. She rolled over, flipping him onto his back with her straddling his chest. Phillip found himself looking up at her. Her wet mane was in disarray, tumbling everywhere. The bright orange matched the color of the flames that surrounded them on both sides, crackling in defiance of the rain. Screams of terror and pain provided a constant background noise. The Dragon’s Spark glowed brightly, the carved red eye wide with delight. The pyromaniac’s face was hidden behind her gas mask, but the tinted lenses shone as though in delight as she raised her right hoof, conjuring up a ball of flames and preparing to thrust it down into his face. Phillip crossed his forelegs across his face, preparing himself for the agony, and for the end. He heard the hoof swinging down, then a half-second later, felt her hoof impact against his forelegs. The pain of the impact resonated across his skin, but to his surprise, there was no burn. “What?!” Tinderspark screeched. Uncrossing his forelegs, Phillip looked up to see her staring at her hoof in shock. There was no flame held within. The Dragon’s Spark had stopped glowing. Immediately, Phillip punched Tinderspark in the face. The lenses shattered and Tinderspark fell off him with a howl of pain and fury. Getting back on top of her, Phillip punched her in the face three more times, leaving her groaning feebly on the ground, then yanked her mask off. Hideous was not a strong enough adjective to describe Tinderspark. Her entire face was covered in pits and scars of previous burns. The skin around her left eye appeared to have partially melted, leaving her unable to open the eye completely; the eye itself was so bloodshot that Phillip briefly wondered if she could even see out of it. The skin around her right eye had been pulled back, exposing more of the eyeball than was natural. Her nose appeared to have molded back into her face, her lips were mostly gone, and the right side of her mouth appeared to have been pulled back into a permanent sneer, exposing her crooked, yellow teeth. She glared back at him dazed defiance and rage. “You’re one ugly motherfucker,” Phillip grunted, then brought his hoof down onto her face one last time. Tinderspark splayed back across the ground, out cold. He seized the Spark, which was stone cold to the touch, ripped it off her, and crushed it into dust beneath his hoof. Phillip panted as he got up off her, suddenly aware of just how exhausted he was. He felt the aching pain that spread across every inch of his body, especially the burning of the knife wound in his leg, but he seemed to be too tired to fully acknowledge it. He looked up towards Prowl, who was still laying against the pole. Bumblebee ran over and bent down, pressing his hoof against her neck. After a moment, his shoulders slumped as he exhaled in relief. “She’s breathing!” he shouted to Phillip. “I think she’s gonna be okay!” Phillip nodded, turning to look around at the still-raging fires all around him. Suddenly, he was aware that the rain seemed to have lessened. Looking up, he saw that the skies above him were mostly clear, exposing the stars above them, except for one enormous black cloud, two-stories tall and darker than an abyss. Daring and Fluttershy were pushing the cloud over one of the burning houses, both of them panting with effort as they shoved the heavy cloud into position; the thunderhead rolled and rumbled like a living thing, trying to run off on its own, but together, the two pegasi kept it under control. “Now!” Daring shouted. As one, both mares turned and bucked the cloud, which let out a loud rumble of thunder that the ponies below felt rippling through their bones. As though a faucet had been turned on, the flow of water from the cloud turned from a moderate shower to a downpour like a fire hose, becoming a solid wall of water. The fires beneath them hissed and roared, but the water proved too great for them, smothering the flames with a hiss. Straining with effort, Daring and Fluttershy pushed the great cloud to the next house, and then the next, dousing the fires in seconds. The street was clear of flames in half a minute. Her mouth hanging open as she panted, Fluttershy flew down to one of the burnt-out shells that used to be a house and pushed open the front door, determined to search for survivors. Daring flew down and landed next to Phillip. Her body was drenched in a mixture of rainwater and sweat and she coughed as she landed. “You okay?” she asked. Phillip lay back down on the ground. The wet, cold asphalt felt heavenly on his back. “‘M fine,” he mumbled. “Just gonna lay here for a minute.” “Sounds good,” Daring nodded. “I’m gonna go help Fluttershy.” She picked herself up wearily and flew over to the house. A few moments later, she came back out of the house, gently carrying a trembling but miraculously unhurt blue colt in her forelegs as Fluttershy guided the coughing and whimpering parents outside. Bumblebee stumbled over to Tinderspark and placed the unconscious mare in hoofcuffs, then sat down next to Phillip and began to bandage the cut on his leg with a first aid kit from his belt. The enormous raincloud let out another rumble of thunder as sirens from responding police, fire, and ambulances approached.