//------------------------------// // Case Five, Chapter Four: The Witness // Story: Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// Rainbow Dash zipped ahead down the street, her head panning from side to side as she scanned the streets below. Daring followed behind her, gripping Phillip tightly. Rainbow Dash suddenly paused, her brow creasing in confusion. Frowning, she began to fly in enlarging circles, searching for any sign of the cruiser. “Wait, there it is!” she suddenly shouted, pointing. The cruiser was parked in front of a warehouse that sat on a dock that jutted out into the river. The wooden structure had clearly seen little use in many years; several of the boards that formed the walls were rotten or missing, there were holes in the roof, and all of the few windows were grimy and had missing or broken panes. “Thanks, kid,” Daring nodded. “Now stay out here.” “What? Hey, I wanna help!” Rainbow Dash protested, starting to fly after them. “No!” Daring snapped, glaring at her. “I’m not putting another pony at risk. Stay. Out. Here.” “But—” Rainbow Dash started to protest, but Daring silenced her with a glare. The blue pegasus watched sulkily as Daring, still carrying Phillip, flew over to the warehouse and dropped straight down through a hole in the roof. They landed on top of the second floor. The wet floorboards creaked softly beneath their weight. A few barrels, crates, and loose rope and tarps were scattered haphazardly across the floor; a single bulb set in a socket in the ceiling provided minimal illumination. Phillip paused to close his eyes, taking in a deep breath and reaching out with his senses. “Voices below,” he muttered, nodding towards the faint, muffled sounds. “Three of them.” They walked across the floor, stepping lightly to avoid making the boards creak. The voices grew louder as they reached a ledge with a ladder leaning up against it and a crane set into the ceiling over their heads to allow for cargo to be lifted up onto their floor. Crouching down, they peeked over the edge. Below them, the two officers were standing over Mint Breeze, who was sprawled across the concrete floor, coughing wetly. Bloodstains were spread across the floor around them, and the fresh red liquid dripped from their nostrils and mouth. “Where’s Jot?” Trade Wind snarled. “Where are his notes?” “I don’t know!” Mint Breeze cried, terrified; their voice was soft and moderately high-pitched, but distinctly masculine. “I don’t know what you’re—” Mint’s plea was interrupted by a vicious kick to the gut from the griffon. Mint curled up into a ball, coughing. “We’ll start here,” the griffon officer growled, grabbing his victim’s wing in both his talons. “And keep breaking until you talk.” “Look, please listen, I don’t know!” Mint Breeze begged, but it was obvious that his pleas were falling on deaf ears. “You take the griffon, I’ve got Trade,” Phillip said. “Got it,” Daring nodded. She dove off the ledge, tracing a grayscale rainbow through the air as she crashed right into the griffon, knocking them both backward across the floor. Phillip grasped the handles of the ladder and pushed forward. The ladder carried him downwards and he jumped off at the last moment, sailing right into Trade Wind. The officer saw him coming at the last second and jumped out of the way. Phillip hit the ground hard, grunting as the impact made the bones in his legs shudder, and tucked into a somersault. Turning, he spotted Trade Wind reaching for his holster, his hoof sliding through the strap attached to the handle of his revolver and pulling the weapon free. Phil's left hoof dove into a pocket near his hip then snapped outwards. His boomerang spun through the air and struck the officer’s wrist, knocking the gun from his grasp. He charged forward, snapping his baton out in his right hoof and catching the returning boomerang in his mouth as Trade Wind snarled and drew his nightstick from his duty belt with a loud snick. "Take this, snoop!" Trade yelled and swung horizontally at Phillip’s head. Phillip countered by striking him in the wrist with his baton, halting his attack, then hit him across the jaw, staggering him. He followed up with a left hook as he closed the distance, but Trade managed to raise his forelegs and he absorbed the blow, countering with a sloppy but effective punch to Phillip’s jaw. Phillip’s teeth grated against each other from the blow and he stumbled with a grunt. Trade swung wildly, trying to hit him again, but missed as Phillip bobbed to the side around him. He drove his knee into Trade Wind’s gut, winding the stallion and causing him to double over, then dropped to all fours and bucked backward. His hooves hit Trade in the back and sent him sprawling, sliding across the floor. Giving Trade no chance to get back up, Phillip sprinted forward and finished him with a heavy blow across the head with his baton. Trade Wind slumped to the ground and lay still, groaning. Phillip looked up to see that Daring and the griffon were engaged in midflight combat, tumbling and looping around one another as they struggled for dominance. Phillip spat his boomerang out into his left hoof and raised the weapon, but both combatants were darting around too quickly for him to get a good bead; he might miss, or worse, hit Daring. Daring and the griffon engaged in a mutual grapple, but then Daring abruptly cried out in pain and let go of her combatant to clutch her bleeding shoulder. The griffon, one of his talons dripping with Daring’s blood, kicked away from her to regain some distance and went to retrieve his service weapon. Seizing his chance, Phillip took aim. But at that moment, a rainbow suddenly streaked through the air and crashed right into the griffon with a loud shout. The griffon tumbled through the air, dropping his weapon, but recovered and turned to face his new attacker. Rainbow Dash flew towards him again with a yell and lashed out with another flying kick that hit him in the chest. The griffon grunted and fell to the floor, landing with a heavy thump. He lay still, one wing bent at an unnatural angle. Rainbow Dash posed proudly in midair. “No need to thank me,” she said. “Just thought I could lend a hoof—” “I told you to stay outside,” Daring interrupted, glaring at Rainbow Dash as she flew down to the ground. She glanced down at Mint Breeze, who was still laying on the floor, curled up into a ball and shaking in obvious fear. “You okay?” Phillip asked Daring, walking up to examine her wound. “He just scratched me, I’m fine,” Daring said, pulling a roll of gauze out from a pocket of her shirt and wrapping the injury. “B-but I thought you could use some help,” Rainbow Dash protested, looking rather deflated as she landed beside them. “We didn’t need help,” Daring snapped at her. “We—” Phillip laid a hoof on Daring’s shoulder, stopping her tirade. Daring closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then turned back to Rainbow Dash. “I appreciate the gesture, but you’re inexperienced,” she explained. “You could’ve finished that guy off right away, but you gave him a chance to recover. If he’d been smarter and faster, he could’ve killed you. And if bullets had been flying when you jumped in here, you could’ve been hit.” Rainbow Dash hung her head a bit but nodded. “I understand,” she muttered. Daring finished wrapping up the wound with a grunt as Phillip walked over to Mint Breeze and bent down. “You’re okay now,” Phillip reassured Mint. Mint slowly turned to look up at him. His eyes widened in astonishment and recognition. “Detective Finder?” he breathed. “Yes,” Phillip said. “Daring, the cuff keys.” Daring fished a set of hoofcuffs keys from the griffon’s belt and tossed them over to Phillip. He uncuffed Mint and then tossed the cuffs over to Daring. She went to cuff the still unconscious griffon while Rainbow Dash cuffed Trade Wind. “You hurt bad?” Phillip asked Mint Breeze, helping him up. “N-no, no, thank you,” Mint said, dusting himself off. Blood still dripped from his nose and lips and he limped on his left hind leg. “We’re gonna get you somewhere safe,” Phillip said, allowing Mint to lean against him as he carried him to the doorway. “What about these two?” Daring asked, jerking her head towards the unconscious officers. “Find a callbox and call some officers, somepony we can trust,” Phillip said. “Tell them what happened and have them pick them up.” “Right,” Daring nodded. “What about me?” Rainbow Dash asked. Daring pondered her for a moment, then said, “If you’re tied to this, it could mean trouble for you. You did technically assault a cop.” Rainbow Dash huffed dismissively. “I can handle a couple lowlife thugs with badges,” she scoffed. “A couple, maybe,” Daring said. “Try all of them.” “I’m not scared,” Rainbow replied. “It’s about time that some ponies started standing up to the gangs and the corrupt cops around here! I wanna help you guys!” “You can help by staying out of trouble,” Daring replied curtly. “We appreciate the assist, but there’s nothing more you can do here that won’t put you in worse shit.” Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to protest, but Daring gave her a glare. Rainbow Dash sighed and nodded numbly. “Okay,” she agreed. She spread her wings and took off, flying back up through the roof. “Hey, kid,” Daring called after her. Rainbow Dash paused in midair and looked back. “Thanks,” Daring said. Rainbow Dash managed to smile, apparently cheered up a bit, and gave a salute before flying out and disappearing. Phillip exited the warehouse, still supporting Mint Breeze on his shoulder. “Callbox over there,” he said to Daring, pointing to a blue box attached to a telephone pole a few feet away. Daring flew over and opened up the box to reveal a telephone inside. She plucked it out and held it up to her ear. The hum of a dial tone buzzed in her ear for a moment before there was a click. “Ponyville Police, how can I help you?” a voice asked. “Connect me to Detective Trace Evidence,” she said. “Putting you through now…” the voice said. There were several more clicking noises, then a brief silence, then another click. “What kind of shit are you in now?” Trace’s familiar voice sighed into her ear. “We—” Daring started to say but stopped. A little nagging voice in the back of her head whispered to her: He’s a cop. He’s one of them. You don’t know if you can trust them. For a moment, she flashed back to the motel all those months ago, on her first case. For a moment, she was clutching Shifting Tone, hearing her scream, smelling her blood, looking up at the masked unicorn with the switchblade knife. An assassin who had found them by tailing Trace’s car. What if he was dirty all along? Worse, what if he was the mole that she and Phillip suspected was planted within the PPD? “Daring?” Trace asked, concern in his voice. Doubt rolled around in Daring’s stomach for a moment longer, then she pushed it down enough to make a convincing lie...well, half-truth. “We’re at a warehouse in the Dockside District, near Trout Avenue,” Daring reported. “There are two cops in there; we saw them beating up a witness that we were hired to protect. We’ve got the witness, we’re taking them someplace safe.” “And the officers?” Trace asked. “Yeah, you should probably call an ambulance,” Daring admitted. “With you two, that’s a given,” Trace sighed wearily. “So who’s the witness?” “A client,” Daring said, reminding herself that it technically was not a lie. “Where are you taking them?” Trace asked. The little voice in the back of Daring’s head hissed in warning, and she faltered for just a moment. “Someplace safe,” she said. There was a silence on the other end. “Look, it’s nothing personal, okay?” Daring said in spite of herself. “We’ve just gotta be careful right now.” “Right. You don’t know who to trust,” Trace said, his voice carrying no trace of an insult. “Okay, I’ll head down there.” “Thanks, Trace,” Daring said. “And Daring?” Trace added. “Both of you be careful.” “Will do,” Daring said and hung up the phone. She turned to see that Phillip had hailed a cab and was bundling Mint Breeze into the back. He made eye contact with her and then pointed upwards, signaling her to fly after them. She nodded in understanding and took to the sky, hovering several feet over the cab. The taxi pulled away from the curb and started driving north. Daring followed it from the sky, checking downwards every few feet to make sure that the cab with its precious cargo was still beneath her, and to make sure that nopony was following them. The taxi halted in the middle of a neighborhood in northwestern Ponyville and Phillip and Mint exited. Phillip gave the driver some bits and started to guide Mint down the sidewalk, looping one of his forelegs through Mint’s. To most ponies, they would simply appear to be a couple out for a stroll. Daring continued to follow from the air, watching the ponies around them for any sign that they were being followed. Phillip guided Mint through the neighborhood, frequently doubling back and occasionally making a circle around a block. Once, they paused at a trolley stop just as the trolley was pulling up and moved as though they were going to get on, but balked at the last moment. But these anti-surveillance tactics turned up nothing: nopony around them stopped suddenly in confusion, nopony quickly turned away to avoid making eye contact, and nopony paused and looked around. Nopony was following them. Phillip and Mint continued on their path: Daring noted that he was deliberately choosing streets that weren’t observed by surveillance crystals. They finally reached their destination: a familiar two-story building colored in red, pink, and green. Daring descended from the sky and landed next to Phillip as he approached the door. “You really had this in mind?” she asked incredulously. “I trust Applejack and Pinkie,” Phillip said plainly. “And they can be really discreet if they need to be.” There was a hoof-written sign on the door that read, “Closed for Cleaning.” Phillip frowned, then knocked at the door. After a moment, there was a noise from inside, then the door opened up to reveal Pinkie. “Hey, guys!” she chirped happily. “Pinkie, we...what the fu…” Daring trailed off, staring. Pinkie was hovering over the ground, supported only by her tail, which was rapidly spinning in a circle. Dust and litter were swirling in little puffs around it. “I call it the Pinkie-Vac!” Pinkie giggled. “The most fun way to clean! Patent pending.” She spotted Mint Breeze and hovered over to him. “Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?” “M-Mint Breeze,” Mint stammered, staring at Pinkie’s physics-defying tail in utter bewilderment. “Welcome to the Apple Pie in Your Eye!” Pinkie chirped. “We’re just finishing tidying everything up for the morning, but you can come on in!” She hovered back inside, leaving the door open. “She...but...h-how…?” Mint Breeze stammered, pointing at the doors and staring at Phillip and Daring. “Don’t ask,” Phillip and Daring said in unison, Daring punctuating the sentence with an eye roll. The trio proceeded inside the Apple Pie. The tavern area was devoid of any customers: all the chairs were stacked atop the freshly scrubbed tables, the floor was shiny and swept clean, and all the balloons on the tables were newly inflated. Behind the bar, Steamed Carrot was applying the last of a fresh layer of wax, singing Le Festin as she worked. She looked up in surprise at their entry, the song stopping abruptly. She stared at Mint Breeze, seemingly frozen by the sight of a stranger. “Steamed, we have some guests!” Pinkie called, hovering over to her. She hopped down to get back on her hooves. “There’s still some of those leftover grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches left, right?” She paused, then giggled. “Left, right, left, right, forward march!” she declared, marching around in a circle. “Soldier, we’ve got hungry stomachs to fill!” “Oh, uh, right,” Steamed nodded, giving Mint Breeze a final nervous glance before retreating into the kitchen. “You like grilled cheese and tomato, right?” Pinkie asked Mint Breeze, already gathering up some cutlery from beneath the bar. “And a glass of mint julep and a couple dill pickles on the side?” “Uh...yeah,” Mint Breeze admitted, looking utterly astonished. “Coming right up!” Pinkie declared. She pulled out a jar of pickles and placed it on the counter. Her expression suddenly turning serious and determined, she spat on both her front hooves, then grasped the jar and began to strain against it. She grunted and growled through gritted teeth as she pushed and pulled with seemingly Herculean effort, her face rapidly turning red and sweat trickling from her brow, but after several seconds of battling the seal, the jar refused to open. Phillip and Daring exchanged unimpressed looks, then Daring reached out and tapped Pinkie on the shoulder. Panting, Pinkie handed the jar to her. Daring grasped it, twisted with a slight grunt, and the jar popped open. “Thanks,” Pinkie Pie panted, wiping off sweat as she retrieved the jar. “You know, why are they called dill pickles? You never hear of pickles being named anything else,” she chattered as she plucked three long pickles out of the jar and dropped them on the plate for Mint. “Maybe there’s a pickle out there named Gordon or Mike or Jill or Theresa. You ever think of things like that?” “Pinkie, I’m pretty sure you’re the only pony in the world that thinks of things like that,” Daring deadpanned. “Good thing, too,” Phillip muttered under his breath. Mint Breeze just stared at her. Steamed Carrot poked her head out through the kitchen doors, carrying a steaming grilled sandwich on a hot plate. “Ah, thank you!” Pinkie Pie said, holding out the plate for her to drop the sandwich on. Steamed dropped the sandwich on the plate, gave Mint Breeze a rather nervous smile, and retreated back into the kitchen. “Is she okay?” Mint Breeze asked as Pinkie set his meal down in front of him. “She’s fine,” Pinkie Pie reassured him, pulling out a glass, a bottle of whiskey, an ice shaker, a bag of sugar, and some mint leaves from beneath the bar and starting to make a mint julep. “She just takes a little longer to warm up to ponies. She’s really nice.” “Mint, need to talk to you for a sec,” Phillip said quietly, jerking his head towards the other end of the bar. Mint Breeze nodded and followed Phillip. Taking off her pith helmet and placing it on the bar, Daring glanced up to make doubly sure that the tavern was empty, then lowered her head and whispered to Pinkie. “We need to keep him here for a while.” “Let me guess,” Pinkie said, nonchalantly muddling the sugar and mint leaves while shaking the ice shaker with her tail. “He’s on the run from the mob and you need to keep him safe because he’s got evidence that you could use to take down all of them?” Daring blinked. “Yes. How the hell did you—?” “With how nervous he is, and the fact that you two kept glancing over your shoulders when you walked in here, what else could it be?” Pinkie shrugged with a grin. “Besides, I read the script. Not bad, but a bit cliche here and there.” “What scri—never mind,” Daring sighed, shaking her head. “You got any room?” “Yup! Steamed and I are the only ponies living here right now,” Pinkie Pie nodded, pouring some shaved ice into the glass and briefly juggling the bottle of whiskey before filling up the glass with the brown liquid. “He can stay here as long as he wants to.” “Thanks,” Daring nodded. “And keep it discreet, all right?” Pinkie Pie slid the mint julep glass down the bar to Mint Breeze, who caught it and nodded in thanks, then smiled at Daring. She pretended to zip her lips shut and lock her mouth closed, then dropped the key on the floor, mimed digging a hole, dropped the imaginary key into it, then buried the key. She grinned widely at Daring. “Yeah, thanks,” Daring nodded slowly. Why can’t I deal with normal ponies? Daring walked down the bar to Phillip and Mint. Phillip looked up at her, then turned back to Mint. “Tell her what you just told me,” he instructed. Mint Breeze took another quick swig of the mint julep and sighed. “Okay. I worked with Headline Jot,” he explained. “I gathered up some contacts in the Dockside and Industrial District and passed info to him about the gangs down there: Whitestone’s crew, Monopoly, the Nightmare Moon Disciples, Mareish Mob, all of them. It all helped him gather info on how they were connected.” “And he found out something that made the mob want him dead,” Phillip concluded. Mint Breeze nodded. “He found hard proof on Monopoly; he was laundering money through a bunch of business scattered around Ponyville. Construction, liquor stores, restaurants, theaters, the works. And from there, that’s when the pieces started falling into place. Monopoly is the key to all the mob’s money. If he’s taken out of the picture, Silvertongue, Whitestone, Coin Toss, and all the rest lose a bunch of money.” “Do you know what he did with this proof?” Daring asked, feeling her heart rate speeding up. “He gave some of it to me for safekeeping,” Mint Breeze stated. “It’s in my room at the Head, but those cops took my key.” Daring suddenly remembered the key that she’d taken from Jot’s cubicle. She fished it out of her pocket. “Is this a copy?” “How did you—?” Mint Breeze asked, his eyes widening for a moment, then he nodded. “Yes, that’s a spare. It’s in room nine, taped to the back of the middle drawer in the dresser.” “I can go get it real quick,” Daring said, pocketing the key again. “You coming, Phil?” Phil shook his head. “You can handle this on your own. I’m going to put a call into Suunkii to see what he found out about the scene, and try to take another look around Jot’s apartment. There might be something we missed. We still need to find him before the mob does.” “If he’s still alive,” Mint Breeze added glumly. “And if he is, we’ll find him,” Daring Do said, hoping that her voice sounded more confident than she actually felt. “Be careful,” Phillip said. “I’m always careful,” Daring smirked, and cut off his reply with a quick kiss on the lips. She walked back over to where she left her helmet and placed it back on her head. Remembering the satchel containing her disguise, she took it off and handed it to Pinkie. “Think you could hang onto that until I get back?” Pinkie Pie nodded, then mimed digging up the imaginary hole that she’d made earlier and retrieving the key. She unlocked her lips and said, “Good luck!” “Thanks,” Daring said, watching Pinkie relock her mouth and go through the entire process again. Shaking her head, she retrieved her helmet and flew out the door, taking to the skies and heading south once more. The skies became cloudier and grayer as she approached the Dockside District, forcing her to swoop lower to avoid becoming lost in the clouds again. She reached the Maresippi River, paused to regain her bearings, and started to travel back westwards. She flew over the warehouse where the corrupt officers had brought Mint Breeze. The cruiser was gone, but had been replaced by a familiar rust-colored Diplomat 600. A red pegasus wearing a trenchcoat standing next to the car looked up as she passed over, then flew up to join her. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” Red Herring sighed, flying alongside her. “What happened down there?” Daring asked. “Trace and I found those cops, just like you said,” Red explained. “Of course, they were denying everything, saying you two just beat them up for no reason. Trace took ‘em both to the precinct to review their statements.” He gave Daring a sideways look. “You two better know what you’re doing, because you’re already in pretty deep shit.” “If we hadn’t been there, they would’ve killed a witness and dumped them in the river,” Daring countered. “And that pony might just be our one chance of taking out Monopoly. Maybe even the entire mob.” “Seriously?” Red asked, turning to look at her. When she nodded, he said, “Well, what the fuck are we waiting for?” Daring Do put on speed, with Red Herring not far behind her as they flew for the Gold Griffon’s Head. Landing in front of the doors, Daring paused just long enough for Red to catch up, then pushed through the doors and entered the tavern. The interior of the tavern hadn’t changed at all since she had left. The ponies and griffons inside looked up as she entered, then quickly looked back down as Red followed in behind her. Bottgilia was still behind the bar. He made eye contact with Red and slowly reached up to adjust his bow tie. Red stared back coolly. “We’ll make this quick,” Daring quietly promised the griffon. She spotted a set of stairs in the back of the tavern and started to climb up them. Red followed on her tail. They found themselves in a narrow hallway with numbered doors on both sides. A door behind them led to a surprisingly tidy bathroom. Daring walked down the hallway until she reached door number 9 and paused before it, retrieving the key from her pocket. “Do I want to know how you found that?” Red asked. “Probably not,” Daring admitted, unlocking the door and pushing it open. The single room behind the door was mostly taken up by a single-size bed with a woven quilt upon it. The only other furniture was a dresser. Daring crossed over to the dresser and pulled the middle drawer all the way out. Taped to the back of the drawer was a manila folder. She peeled it off and opened up the folder. Inside were several sheets of notepaper, all of them covered in the same indistinct scrawlings that she had seen in Jot’s apartment. “Got it,” she declared, tucking the folder into her shirt. She and Red exited the tavern, the eyes of the patrons following them nervously as they walked out the door. “I’m gonna take this over to Phil,” Daring said, taking to the skies once again. “I’ll take you to him,” Red offered, flying alongside her. “Let’s just head back to my car first.” “All right,” Daring conceded, heading back south towards the warehouse. Red followed behind her. “We’ve been putting a lot of pressure on the mob recently,” Red said as they flew by. “You hear about that Mareish bar that got shot up last week?” “Yeah,” Daring nodded. “I heard three staff members died.” “Well, when we investigated, we found out that it was attached to Coin Toss and the mob, and they were running money and guns through it,” Red explained. “And the kicker is, at least one of the shooters was a member of the Nightmare Moon Disciples. Guess somepony must’ve turned them against their old bosses.” “That somepony is named Scarlet Letter,” Daring said. Red glanced up at her. “Never heard of her. You got any proof of that?” Daring felt a searing heat grow in the pit of her stomach. “No,” she admitted through clenched teeth. “Well, unfortunately, I can’t issue an arrest warrant based on a name," Red commented. Then, with a grin, he added, "Even if it is dropped by the great detective Daring Do, the intrepid hero who breaks the law at every turn, and does it all while wearing a pith helmet, of all things.” Daring glanced up at her helmet. “What’s wrong with the helmet? I like the helmet,” she grumbled. Red smirked at her. “I’m just trying to make sure your head doesn’t get too swollen,” he said. “If it got too big, you wouldn’t be able to wear that thing anymore.” “Fuck you,” Daring replied back with a large smile. “Nah, sorry, you're not my type," Red replied. They had reached the warehouse, where Red's Diplomat was still waiting. Both of them landed next to the car. Daring walked around to the passenger side while Red took the driver's side, pulling his key out of his pocket. There was a flicker of movement from above and Daring looked up at the clouds. As she did so, three griffons, all of them clad in black clothing and masks, dived down from the clouds. Two of them dived right at her, carrying a net between them; the third headed for Red. "Red, look out!" Daring shouted, diving out of the way, but she was too slow: the net descended upon her and she found herself entangled in the heavy ropes. She struggled, yelling in frustration, but only succeeded in freeing one foreleg. An unmarked white truck pulled up with a squeal of brakes and the griffons started carrying her towards the open back, where another griffon and two ponies, all wearing masks, waited. Red looked up just in time to jump out of the way of his attacker, the masked griffon's claws missing him by inches. He countered by swinging his hoof right into his attacker's gut; the amber eyes widened in shock, and the griffon fell over with a wheeze. Red flew over the car towards the truck, but a unicorn in the back fired a wave of blue energy at him, knocking him to the ground. As Daring was dragged, still kicking and struggling, into the back of the truck, she managed to pull the folder out of her shirt and tossed it out onto the ground in front of Red. "Take it! Take it and go!" she shouted just as the door slammed shut. With a screeching of tires against asphalt, the truck began to speed away. Red dived for the folder, snatching it up and stuffing it into his coat. He made to fly after the truck, but there was a loud crack and something flew past his head. Turning around, he saw that the griffon he'd punched had gotten back up and pulled out a griffon-made lever-action carbine. The griffon racked another round into the chamber and brought the stock up to his shoulder. Red darted into the sky, feinting left, then quickly changing direction and heading right. Another gunshot tore through the air, the bullet narrowly missing him as he flew in a zigzag pattern. Red turned over his shoulder to see that the griffon was flying after him, and gaining fast. Red spotted a tall chimney a few feet ahead and sped towards it. He rounded the corner and flattened his back up against the brick just as another bullet crashed into the stone. Drawing his pistol from his shoulder holster, he sucked in a deep breath, then popped up over the top of the chimney. The griffon was flying right towards him, an empty cartridge flying from the ejector of his carbine. He paused in midair, bringing the stock up to his shoulder and taking aim at Red. But Red was faster. He squeezed the trigger twice, one right after the other, and sent two .45 caliber rounds right into the griffon’s chest. His attacker’s eyes widened in shock and gravity seized him in its merciless grip, pulling him and his weapon all the way down to the sidewalk, where he landed with a sickening thwap. Red quickly flew down to the sidewalk and approached his fallen enemy, gun still drawn. Griffons and ponies on the sidewalks watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as he kicked the carbine away and examined the griffon. The bloodstained chest was heaving rapidly, the eyes wide and twitching, but the body was already still; the Reaper was not far off, and even if there was an ambulance parked right next to them, Red doubted that there was much that could be done. “You,” he grunted to a female griffon who was standing in front of a butcher’s shop, staring open-beaked at the scene. “Call an ambulance.” The griffon swallowed and nodded, turning to head back into the store. Red picked up the carbine, flicked on the safety, then flew back to the warehouse as fast as his wings could carry him. He reached his car and stopped, panting, his head turning in every direction. But there was no sign of the truck that had taken Daring. “Oh, shit,” he breathed, running a hoof through his sweaty mane. “Oh, shit.”