//------------------------------// // Case Five, Chapter Ten: Reaping the Rewards // Story: Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// Two weeks later, Cold Case was sitting behind her desk, chewing on the stem of her pipe. Before her was a folded edition of the Foal Free Press. The blaring headline said it all: “Massive Police Sting Demolishes Mob! Evidence from Anonymous Sources Leads to Multiple Arrests of High-Level Crime Figures!” Beneath the image was a photograph of Monopoly, the once-respected business leader being led down the marble steps of the Ponyville Courthouse in hoofcuffs, flanked by two police officers and followed by a line of several other ponies, all of them in cuffs and being guided by more police. “I’ve spoken to the DA,” she announced to the other ponies in the office. “He’s sure that he can make most of the charges stick. And Monopoly is a moot point, considering that he’s blatantly guilty of kidnapping and attempted murder of police officers.” She looked up. “You should commend yourselves on this.” “Monopoly did half the work,” Red Herring commented dryly; he, Trace, Bee, Prowl, Flash, Phillip, and Daring were standing across from Cold. “If he hadn’t been stupid, he wouldn’t have dug his own grave.” “There are still a few things to clear up,” Cold Case said, pushing the paper away from her. “First of all, the changeling.” “Buzz’s still afraid of retaliation, and seeing as Headline Jot is legally dead, he’s adopted a new identity,” Phillip said. “Right now, he...er, she’s calling herself Sugar Loaf. Hear she's taken up beekeeping.” “This city owes Headline Jot...er, Buzz a debt. We’ll have to keep them safe,” Case nodded. “What about Silvertongue?” Daring asked. Cold Case frowned. “Unfortunately, there was nothing pointing directly at him, even if several of his...associates were arrested in the sweep, including many of our own officers. But he’s in the spotlight now. If he steps out of line again, we’ll be there.” “Sounds good to me,” Trace grunted, stretching out his shoulders. “Anything else?” “Scarlet Letter,” Daring said. Cold Case, Red Herring, and Trace Evidence all frowned at each other. “There’s a problem,” Trace admitted. “We did do some digging, but turned up nothing.” “Nothing?” Daring repeated coldly. “We found some Prench birth records and a paper trail,” Red admitted. “Looks like your Scarlet Letter was born in Prance and took Literature at the University of Cuore in the Crystal Empire. She worked for some marketing companies in various public relations positions for a few years, but around 1941, she kind of disappears. We’ve got no current address, and even though we tracked down a few old contacts, no one knows where she is now. Oh, yeah, and we couldn’t find your old friend Bright Sparks, either.” “Keep digging,” Daring snapped. “There’s got to be—” “Enough,” Cold Case interrupted. “You don’t tell my officers how to do their jobs, Do.” Daring glared at Cold but backed off with a quiet growl. Phillip laid a hoof on her shoulder. “One last thing,” he added. “Tumbler’s murder.” “That case has run dry, and it’s not for lack of trying,” Cold Case informed them. “We have little evidence, none of it conclusive in any way, and no witnesses. As far as we can tell, somepony just teleported into the office, cut his throat, and teleported out. If anything, this is a serious security issue that needs to be addressed.” “Any ideas as to motive?” Trace asked. “You might have an easier time making a list of ponies who wouldn’t want to kill him,” Daring replied, sarcasm dripping off her tongue and onto the carpet. Cold Case shot her another icy glare. “The investigation is ongoing,” she said coldly. “Need help?” Phillip asked. “No,” Cold Case said, turning her attention to her pipe. She started filling it with tobacco from a pouch. “Detectives, officers, that will be all. You are dismissed; clock out and go home. Finder and Do, I need to have a word with you two.” “Ma’am,” Trace nodded and turned to leave. Red, Bumblebee, and Flash turned to follow, with Prowl hesitating for a moment. “Congratulations on the promotion, ma’am,” she nodded to Cold. “Thank you,” Cold Case nodded back. “You are dismissed.” Prowl saluted, nodded to Phillip and Daring, and exited, closing the door behind her. Cold Case pulled a matchbox from her desk, plucked a long match from it, and struck it. The tiny flame did nothing to dispel the sudden chill that had fallen over the room. “Don’t think this means you two are off the hook,” Cold said, lighting her pipe with the match. Acrid blue smoke wafted from the bowl of the pipe, stinging at Phillip’s and Daring’s noses and eyes. “We will be watching you two very closely.” “I knew you couldn’t resist this,” Daring smirked coldly, shaking her rump. Phillip elbowed her sharply. Cold Case’s glare could’ve turned the Saddle Arabian desert into a frozen wasteland. She chewed on the stem of her pipe for a few seconds, the continued. “You’re reckless, irresponsible, have no respect for authority or law, have a proclivity to violence, and endanger yourselves and others.” Daring opened her mouth to make a comment about how she had just described a third of the department’s officers but decided to hold her tongue after Phillip gave her a glare. “Nonetheless,” Cold continued, drawing out the words as though speaking them caused her physical pain. “We can’t deny that you are effective at investigation of...abnormal cases. And the public seems to have a high opinion of you ever since the Tinderspark incident. Nor can I deny that...your hearts are in the right place.” Cold Case’s hoof moved as if on its own to cover a paragraph on the newspaper in front of her, but not before Phillip could catch a glimpse of the text: “Sources indicate that local private detective Phillip Finder and his partner, former thief Daring Do, were heavily involved in this police dragnet. Neither has released a comment.” “In balance of everything,” Cold Case grumbled, continuing to puff on her pipe. “I’m allowing your continued position as consultants to the police force. But it’s with this understanding.” She took out the pipe with her magic and blew out a cloud of smoke. “If I find out that you stepped out of the law again, you will be arrested, charged, and sent to prison.” The image of stone walls, barred windows, and cold, clammy air that stank of sweat suddenly flashed through Daring’s mind and she repressed a shudder. “Understood,” Phillip said. “That is all for now,” Cold Case declared, spinning around in her chair so that she was facing away from them, looking out the floor to ceiling windows that stretched out behind her. She continued to puff thoughtfully on her pipe, sending small clouds puffing up over the top of the chair. Phillip turned tail and walked out of the office. Daring glared at the back of the chair for a moment, then followed him out, shooting a dirty glance at the shelf on the wall with all of the stupid trophies and diplomas placed upon it. She gave the door a dirty look as she passed by it. Printed on the frosted glass in black letters were the words: “Chief of Police: Cold Case.” The letters for Cold’s name were brighter and cleaner than the other words. Phillip, who had paused at the threshold of the door, looked back at Daring, opening his mouth to say something. Abruptly, he paused, his eyes moving past her and towards the shelf. “What the hell…?” he muttered, walking towards the shelf. Daring turned to follow his progress, and as she did so, she spotted the anomaly that he had seen: a faint glimmer of blue from underneath one of the shelves supports, so tiny and so heavily obscured by shadows that she wouldn’t have seen it if Phil hadn’t noticed it. Cold Case turned around, frowning. Phillip squinted at the little blue light, then reached out and plucked it from its perch. Beneath the light of the office room, the object was revealed: a curved lens of blue crystal. “A surveillance crystal,” Phillip said. “What the hell is that doing—?” Cold Case started to say but was cut off by a loud snap when the lens abruptly shattered and crumbled into dust. The dust tumbled from Phillip’s hoof and onto the floor, spilling over the very same carpet that had only recently been cleaned of Chilled Tumbler’s blood. Multiple voices overlapped one another, all of them clamoring to be heard, demanding answers, accusing others, proposing solutions. “Silence! Silence!” Silvertongue bellowed, slamming his hoof down on the long table. It took a few moments more for silence to fall. Adjusting his glasses as he panted, Silvertongue examined the room, noting the several empty seats around the long table. Monopoly’s absence was quickly noticeable, and Chief Tumbler’s seat was vacant. Gone too was King Row, Hidden Ace, Jagged Crystal, and a half dozen other minor bosses and leaders. “We’ve been acting the maggot for too long, Silvertongue,” Coin Toss growled, tossing a coin up and down to himself. “And now we’re paying up the arse for it. We need action, and we need it now.” “Damn right,” a griffon female sitting near the end of the table growled. This griffon’s body was pure white, like she’d been crafted from snow. Her beak and talons were a golden brown, there were gray highlights on her feathers, and her eyes were a piercing yellow that seemed to glow faintly, but the feature that most ponies were drawn to was the vicious red scar over her left eye, starting from her cheek and going all the way up towards the crown of her head. Roaring was standing slightly behind this griffon, one claw fingering the cutlasses at his hip. “You should’ve let me kill those two snoops a long time ago,” Whitestone snarled at Silvertongue. “Because of them, we’re practically holed beneath the waterline now. We’ve lost most of our funding, nearly a third of our ponies, the Nightmare Moon Disciples have turned on us, and now, because Tumbler’s dead, that bitch Cold is going to start cleaning up the cops!” “Everypony is a master strategist for the battles of yesterday,” Silvertongue replied coolly. “But we need to worry more about our own moves.” He placed his hooves on the table and looked around the room. “The truth of the matter is, we are bleeding money and resources. We are wounded, heavily. Any further actions against us would likely cripple us for good. I know most of you don’t want to hear this, but the best option for now is to retreat.” There was a ripple of grumbling and disagreement from around the table. “As I said, most of you don’t want to hear it,” Silvertongue continued, raising his voice slightly to be heard. “But consider this: Monopoly attempted to handle Mister Finder and Miss Do himself, and when he failed, he ensured his own downfall. If we were to attempt the same and fail, it would be disastrous for us. And even if we were to succeed, it could backfire on us.” A louder outburst of disagreement rang forth from the collective voices. Silvertongue scowled and stood up, his silhouette framed by the coat of arms behind him. “Enough!” he barked. “We are all in this boat together! With Monopoly gone, we must rely on each other more than ever!" He placed his hooves on the table and leaned forward, looking every pony, griffon, donkey, and thestral present in the eye. "We have worked together for years; we have built a dynasty that was designed to survive. Turning on each other know will only serve to destroy us all. We must act smart, and we must work together. “And if any of you want to think of yourselves at a time like this, further keep in mind that I hold the keys that can lead to your own downfalls,” he added. “I will not allow one weak link to destroy this chain.” The glares that they faced him with were universally harsh and cold, but he could see the fear behind their eyes. He slowly sat back down, so that all would see the coat of arms behind him, the great hoof crushing the serpent. “Nemo Me Impune Lacessit,” he stated, reading off the motto printed around the coat of arms. “Nobody insults me with impunity. And this is a grave insult against me. I have every intention of avenging it, given time. But there is somepony here who has insulted me gravely.” He looked around the room, judging the reaction of everypony therein. Whitestone glared in silence. Roaring was stone-faced, still fingering his swords. Coin Toss licked his lips while continuing to toss his coin to himself, glancing around the room. All of the others were silent, most of them casting furtive glances at one another. Finally, his eyes fell on the last pony: Zugzwang, who was standing off to one side, a gold leaf cigarette in his teeth. He stared back at Silvertongue evenly. “Why, Zugzwang?” Silvertongue accused quietly, lighting up his horn. An image flickered into view before all ponies present: a view of the PPD’s chief’s office. As everypony watched, there was a flash of golden light and a tan unicorn in a black suit appeared, his back to the viewers. After a few moments, Chief Tumbler entered the room. He turned and faced the intruder, who stepped forward. Tumbler stepped back, his eyes showing shock, but it was too late: in a blur of motion, the pony in the suit slashed through the air, cutting Tumbler’s throat open with a blade that sprang from beneath his sleeve. Tumbler clutched his throat and fell to the floor, twitching a couple times before becoming still. The unicorn stared down at the corpse for a moment, then turned away, casting a spell from his horn to wipe the blood off his blade and suit. Then, with another flash of light, he teleported away. But not before the lens caught a glimpse of his cutie mark: a black king chess piece. The image vanished and every head turned towards Zugzwang. The cigarette, which had gone out, had fallen from his mouth, and he was looking around the room, an expression of slowly dawning fury on his face. "I brought you into my home, solicited your advice," Silvertongue said slowly, quietly. "I made you one of my closest advisors, gave you whatever money and power you desired. You..." He took a shaky breath. "You were my friend, Zugzwang. Why?" Zugzwang merely scowled at him. "Take him," Silvertongue ordered. Two thestrals stood from their seats and rushed towards Zugzwang, their fangs glistening. Zugzwang’s reply was to thrust towards them both with his forelegs, blades extending from both of his sleeves and piercing his attackers’ throats. He tossed them aside, sending blood spraying across the walls and floor, and turned towards his former master, his horn lighting up with a golden glow. Silvertongue yelped and fell back, tumbling to the floor. With a battle cry that rattled the walls, Roaring leaped at Zugzwang, drawing two of his cutlasses as he flew, one in each claw. The blades sliced down towards Zugzwang, who jumped backward out of range, seizing a chair in his magic and hurling it at Roaring. Roaring grunted and blocked the attack with his forearms, the blow knocking him off-balance momentarily; enough time for Zugzwang to teleport in a blur of golden light, traveling over the table and towards the door in the blink of an eye. He bucked the doors open and disappeared into the purple-colored room outside. “Guards! Guards! Stop him!” Silvertongue howled, but it was already too late. Seizing a small marble statue in his magic, Zugzwang hurled it through the window, shattering the magic-resistant glass, and teleported through in a flash of golden light. The blur of light zigzagged across the yard, dashing down the hill faster than the perimeter guards could track, before leaping over the tall brick fence and disappearing into the night. “Damn!” Silvertongue shouted, slamming his hooves on the table. He sat down again, breathing heavily. How? How did he recuperate from this? His master strategist had fled; he may as well have had his right hoof amputated. He growled. Enough doubt. Enough fear. He was the master of this city, damn it, the king of Ponyville. He would not be cowed by anything, not even this. “All right,” he breathed, looking around the room again. The other bosses stood frozen, uncertain, like actors on stage waiting for a missed cue. “All right,” he repeated, collecting himself and sitting back down. “Listen. For the moment, we will circle the wagons. Continue business as usual, but keep your heads down.” “What about Zugzwang? And Scarlet Letter?” Whitestone growled. “Not to mention the snoops.” “Phillip Finder and Daring Do can’t do anything against us as long as we stay calm and smart,” Silvertongue reassured her. “As for our foe and the traitor, I suppose our newly reformed police department will have some work to do after they’re done cleaning house.” He pressed a button beneath the table. A servant in a white uniform walked through the broken door, examining the room and its occupants with ill-concealed fear. “Go down to the basement and fetch that new cask of Amontillado,” Silvertongue instructed the trembling mare. “I want this to be a new beginning for all of us; let us put the past behind us, learn our lessons, and toast to our future successes, when we emerge from this stronger and more powerful than before.” The mare nodded and exited quickly. Silvertongue looked around the room as the others resumed their seats. “Fret not,” he reassured the room. “Another opportunity always comes.” “Thanks, Marcus,” Bumblebee said, accepting a grilled carrot dog drizzled with mustard from the gray burro and giving him a bit in exchange. Licking his lips, he walked back to his partners, who were sitting on a nearby bench, munching on their carrot dogs and burgers, enjoying the light evening breeze whispering down the street. “I tell you, best damn grill in the city. Nopony’s convincing me otherwise,” Bumblebee said, diving into his dog. “You’ve never been to Sweetcream Scoop’s,” Flash Sentry countered. “What’s that place like?” Bee asked. “I heard it had a pretty impressive arcade." “It does,” Flash said. “But Sweetcream also makes these amazing hayburgers and milkshakes. And she’s really nice; she’s always easy to talk to, and gives great advice. She’s just really amazing.” “Careful, you might make Twilight jealous if she hears you talking about another mare like that,” Bumblebee teased. Flash’s entire face went red and his tail stiffened. “I, er, uh, beh, but, you, we, eh...you know?” he stammered. “You’re not going to be assigned for any undercover work anytime soon, Sentry,” Prowl smiled as Bee laughed. The trio sat in silence for a while before Flash spoke up again. “Sarge? You remember when you were...having that flashback, and you listed off those street names?” “Yes,” Prowl said quietly. “It’s a...coping mechanism I came up with when I came back from the war. I list off places that are important to me; it calms me down.” “Like what?” Flash asked. “I mean, I don’t mean to pry…” “Nah, it’s all right,” Prowl nodded. “The street where I lived when I was a kid, the swings at the school that Bee and I played on, my uncle’s candy shop, the reservoir I go for runs, the nursery where Maple Leaf works, the bench where I proposed to him, and my home.” Flash nodded. He thought for a moment, then looked up at a nearby street sign. “Bench on the corner of Main and Railway,” he said. “I’m going to remember this place.” Prowl smiled and tussled Flash’s mane. “You’re even sappier than my husband,” she snorted. Flash chuckled and smoothed his mane back into place. The three leaned back in the seat and watched the world go by in contented silence. Prowl reached into her saddlebags and extracted a small box. She shook some of the contents into her hoof: a trio of crickets, their bright green bodies covered in glazed honey, unnaturally still in her hoof. "Wanna try one?" she asked, offering the candies to her colleagues. Flash turned faintly green and both stallions quickly scooted away from her, murmuring quiet refusals. Prowl shrugged and popped all three into her mouth. "Delicious." "I'll take your word for it, Prowl," Bee mumbled, turning back to his carrot dog. The setting sun was painting the city sky in reds and oranges as Phillip and Daring walked down Honeybee Bakery Street towards home. “The department’s in better hooves now with Cold in charge,” Phillip was telling Daring. Daring grunted. “Not happy that Captain Bitch is going to be breathing down our necks even harder than before,” she said. Phillip was silent for a while, then quietly muttered, “We can still do our jobs.” Daring scoffed. “I need a fucking drink,” she muttered. “That’s your answer to everything,” Phillip replied. “You’d be amazed how many problems can be solved with a liberal application of alcohol,” Daring answered. They reached 221 and turned up the sidewalk towards the door. Phillip paused on the threshold, glancing down. Sitting on the step was what looked like a postcard. Phillip picked it up. The picture showed a mare standing in front of an artificial beehive, holding up a honeycomb dripping with golden honey in her magic. The unicorn mare had a golden-white coat and yellow and black hair with green eyes, and the cutie mark of a jar of honey with a loaf of bread. “Sugar Loaf’s All-Natural Honey and Honey Products: Coming Soon!” read the text across the top, with an address in northern Ponyville beneath. Phillip flipped the card over to find a hoof-written line: “Thanks for everything. If you ever need my help again, you’ll know where to find me. —Buzz.” Phillip and Daring both looked at each other and smiled. “Sometimes, this job really is worth it,” Daring said. “Still need that drink?” Phillip asked, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Only if you’re joining me,” Daring replied, drawing her tail beneath his chin as she passed by. Phillip’s smile broadened as he closed the door behind them.