There were four bunks in the holding cell, two on each wall. Phillip Finder sat on the bottom bunk on the left, knees up to his chest. When the officers booked him, they’d taken away his vest and trilby, leaving him only with his gray undershirt. The blanket and pillow that they’d provided him with lay in a bundle on the other end of the bunk. The only other furniture in the cell was a toilet-sink combination stuffed into the corner as an afterthought. A half-used roll of soggy toilet paper sat on the floor next to it.
At least he was alone in the cell.
“Phil?” a voice called through the barred doors.
He looked up to see Daring standing on the other side of the doors; she was looking at him with a downcast expression, shuffling her hooves in uncertainty. Even from here, he could smell Applejack’s apple cider on her breath; evidently, she’d gone to the Apple Pie to calm her nerves. Flanking her was Trace and Red, both of them with awkward expressions, clearly having no idea what to say or do.
Part of him wanted to leap up and grasp Daring’s hooves through the bars, but he also felt as though that barred door was like a massive canyon between them, impossible to surmount and futile to try. Besides, based on how rough they’d been when they were booking him, he was pretty sure that the booking officers would enjoy having an excuse to pepper spray him.
“How you doing?” Daring asked quietly.
“Need you to focus on the case,” Phillip said, not moving from the bunk.
“No, I need to focus on you,” Daring replied shortly, stepping forward. “And on getting you out.”
Phillip didn’t answer but found that he could no longer look her in the eyes.
“Look, I’ll get you a lawyer,” Daring said, still fidgeting slightly in place. “I...we’ll think of something. We…”
“Find Meadow Dance,” Phillip said, still not looking at her. “Get Silvertongue. That’s what matters.”
“Will you fucking quit acting like a fucking Messiah or something?!” Daring shouted, grasping the bars and shaking them as though trying to pry them loose.
“Daring, calm down,” Trace said, pulling her back.
“You’re important, too!” Daring shouted. “You matter to me! I’m going to fucking get you out of here if I—!” She shivered and wiped her face, breathing heavily. “Fuck. Phil, what do I do?” she said in a low, strangled voice that was almost a whimper.
Not looking at her hurt. Facing her would hurt even more. “Trace,” Phillip croaked. “Get her out of here. Take her somewhere safe. She can’t help anypony here.”
Trace nodded and gently placed a foreleg around Daring’s shoulders, guiding her away. Red walked up to the bars.
“We heard what happened,” he said to Phil in an undertone. “Look...if there’s anything we could do for you…”
Phil didn’t answer. He didn’t even look up.
“We both knew Lucky Dice back when we were beat cops,” Red said. “Personally, if somepony did kill that sociopathic murdering fuck, I think they deserve a medal. But…” He sighed. “Look, I know I’ve gotten on your ass a lot about getting rough with suspects and being a general pain in the arse, but the truth is—and if you tell anyone I said this, I will deny it—I always respected you, deep down. Trace and I both. You had your heart in the right place.”
Phil’s sole response was to turn his head away even more.
“So if you need anything…” Red’s voice trailed off. “We’ll be in touch, okay? Just stay strong.”
When Phil still didn’t say anything, Red slowly turned and walked away.
Phillip was, at that moment, exceptionally glad that he was the only one in the cell. There was nopony who could see that he was crying.
Trace guided Daring out of the precinct and into the night. The sky was mostly clear, the stars above them like snowflakes frozen in the distant indigo sky. A few clouds passed by, obscuring some of the constellations: Orion crouched behind a large cloud like a bush, and Scorpio’s tail was hidden behind another cloud.
“You okay?” Trace asked Daring.
“No,” Daring admitted, wiping at her eyes with a wing. “He’s going to prison for the rest of his life, Trace.”
“Maybe you can get a good lawyer—” Trace started to say.
“With what money?” Daring scoffed, shaking her head.
“Maybe they’ll find him not guilty at the trial,” Trace suggested.
“No, Cold wouldn’t have tried this unless she had something on him,” Daring mused. She looked up at the sky, quickly locating Polaris. The unmoving North Star twinkled down at her.
“She must’ve gotten some evidence somewhere,” she said. An idea sparking in her slightly cider-soaked mind, she turned around and started to head back to the precinct. “And I’m going to make her—”
“Do what?” Trace asked, blocking her. “You try anything against her, and she’ll just throw you in a cell, too. And then you won’t be able to help Phil, or Meadow Dance, or anypony.”
His logic penetrated the momentary rush of alcohol, and Daring’s bravado deflated like a balloon. She looked back up at Polaris just in time to see a heavy bank of clouds pass in front of it.
“So what the fuck am I supposed to do?” she whispered.
Trace patted her on the back. “Look, you’re drunk and upset. Go home and sleep it off. You’ll be able to think more clearly when you’re sober.”
“Trace, a lot of my schemes were cooked up when I was drunk,” Daring countered.
“Were they good plans?” Trace asked dryly.
“Eh…” Daring shrugged.
“Go home, Daring,” Trace said quietly.
“Okay. I guess you’re right,” Daring mumbled. She spread her wings and flapped to take off, but wobbled in midair and had to land again, groaning and shaking her head.
“Here,” Trace sighed, taking her under his foreleg. He guided her down to the street curb and hailed a cab. “Two-twenty-one Honeybee Bakery,” he told the driver, handing them some bits and gently lifting the still-dazed Daring into the back.
The cabby, a light gray burro with a handlebar mustache and cap, turned to stare at his passenger. “Hey, isn’t that the thie—?”
“No, it’s not,” Trace cut him off firmly.
The cabby looked at him for a moment, then gave a small shrug and drove off. Trace watched the vehicle’s brake lights fade into the distance, then turned and walked back into the precinct.
“According to Chief Case, Phillip Finder is charged with murder and lying to the police,” the radio said. “He is being held without bail per arraignment. In other news—”
“Turn it off,” Sunny Skies said from the balcony of the hotel suite.
Arc Light looked up from cleaning his pistol on the table and shut the radio off with his magic. The hotel room was a humble affair: there were two queen-sized beds with fluffy mattresses that took up most of the main room. A pull-out sofa and a small table with a pair of cushions were in the small foyer, next to the door, which was locked, chained shut, and barred with a magically conjured shield. The door to a sizable bathroom with complete with a bathtub and shower was to the left of the door.
Arc currently sat at a larger table in the main room, with the radio sitting on the corner away from him. Next to him was a dresser, on top of which sat a television, the rabbit ears vibrating as if with excitement. He turned to the glass doors that led to the balcony next to him.
Sunny Skies sat on the snow-covered balcony, a crystal hookah sitting next to her, a light dusting of snow across her coat-covered back. Mythic Aurora stood next to her, eyes scanning the skies and the street below for any sign of a potential threat. As Arc watched, Sunny contemplatively brought the mouth of the hookah’s pipe up to her lips and gently sucked. She leaned back, eyes closed, and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke that smelled of tea leaves.
“What do we do now?” Arc asked.
“We’ll have to find somepony else we can trust,” Mythic grunted. “Somepony who isn’t being accused of murder, or who abetted him.”
“Who else?” Arc pointed out. “The police are going to let Josephus’ murder fall by the wayside after this, you know they are. And Silvertongue gets away with the treaty.”
Mythic scowled at him. “How can we trust Phillip or Daring after this? Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Your Highness, but I warned you about this.”
“And I listened,” Celestia said calmly, not looking at either of her guards.
“Mythic, we both have done things we’re not proud of,” Arc said, taking a brush and cleaning out the inside of the barrel. “Do you remember that necromancer in Neigh Orleans that we killed?”
“We killed him in service to the nation and the Crown, to remove a threat that required extraordinary measures,” Mythic countered. “If he murdered this stallion, then that makes him a vigilante, not a soldier.”
“Mythic,” Celestia said gently. “You both raise valid points. However, I still believe that Phillip Finder is worth at least some measure of trust.”
Mythic scowled. “Your Highness, he is accused of murdering a pony in cold blood.”
“He is also a stallion who put himself at risk to rescue a child, and a pony who freely offered to help a pony who should have been his enemy,” Celestia pointed out. “This is not a pony who treats life cheaply. And as much as we might wish it to,” she added quietly. “The world is not divided into black and white.”
She took a long breath of the hookah. “I recall long ago—1416, to be precise—the northern lands were besieged by Diamond Dogs. They stole food and valuables from villages farther from our largest cities, burned entire crops, and killed and raped any pony who crossed them.” She closed her eyes. “I can still see the bodies, smell the burned fields.” She shivered.
“I sent soldiers to handle the problem, but the Dogs had allied themselves with minotaurs and a powerful wizard who used frost golems. Our initial forces were repelled, destroyed.” She swallowed. “One of the soldiers killed was a captain that I had courted, whom both I and my sister loved.”
She had to take another breath before continuing. “When I learned of his death, it didn’t take long for my grief to turn into rage, and even less time for my sister to follow. We both went north to destroy the enemy encampments.”
Mythic and Arc both listened in silence, breath bated like ponies who are standing before a darkened door; they knew what was behind the door, and even if they knew that the door must open, they didn’t want it to.
“When we reached the hills over the camp, I could see their lights down in the valley below,” Celestia said, her hoof shaking every so slightly. “I stood on the land that my ponies, my soldiers, that the stallion that I had loved, had shed their blood upon, and they slept peacefully below…” She took another breath of the hookah. “It was more than I could bear. I remember lighting up my horn...and when it was done, there was nothing left of the valley. Nothing but the embers and the screams.”
She bowed her head, eyes closed. Mythic hesitated, then slowly walked over and patted her back.
“What I did,” Celestia admitted. “I did out of rage and violence and revenge. I removed a threat, an army of thieves and murderers. And it was a horrible mistake. And I knew that if the story ever came out to the public, my sister and I would be feared by the entire world. We would be seen as monsters.” She let out a long, smoky sigh. “So we leveled the land, erasing any trace of what I’d done, and swore the soldiers with me to secrecy.”
She tilted her head up at her guards, even though she couldn’t quite bring herself to aim her dimly shining eyes at them. “Mythic, Arc, you have both served under me for years. Upon knowing this...do you consider me unworthy of your loyalty?”
“Never,” Arc Light declared, standing at his Princess’ side. “You made a mistake, Celestia. But you’re still a good pony.”
Mythic Aurora frowned in thought, eyes darting from side to side as she considered. Finally, she sighed. “I…I find myself wondering what I’d do in a similar circumstance. And...I guess you’ve got a point.”
Celestia smiled gratefully. “Thank you, both of you.”
“That still leaves the question of what we’re going to do,” Arc pointed out.
“I cannot pardon him,” Celestia stated, her expression returning to seriousness. “He has not committed a crime against the crown.” She closed her eyes. “I am sorry to say, but...at the moment, all we can do is wait.”
Flash looked up from washing the dishes. “Hey, mom?”
“Yes, dear?” Joyful Sound asked from the combination dining and living room that made up the majority of their apartment. She was holding a Braille edition of the Covenant Journal in her lap, one hoof gently stroking the pages.
“Did...you hear that Phil got arrested?” Flash asked.
Joyful paused in her reading. “Yes, it was on the radio earlier today,” she said.
Flash placed the dish he was washing down and walked over to sit on the sofa next to his mother. “You told me he saved you years ago,” he said quietly.
“He did,” Joyful nodded. “While his methods might not have been agreeable to me, I do believe that he had the right intentions for it.”
“But if what he did was still wrong, does that make him bad?” Flash asked.
Joyful sighed. “That is a difficult question to answer,” she murmured. “I think it might be best for me to ask you what it is that is truly troubling you.”
“Um…” Flash said. He rubbed the back of his head and sighed.
At that moment, there was a knocking at the door. “I wonder who that is,” Joyful mused as Flash walked to the door. He unlocked it and opened the door wide.
Twilight Sparkle stood on the other side, nervously tugging her scarf from her neck. “Hello,” she nodded. “Can I come in?”
“Hi! Um, yeah, sure,” Flash said, stepping aside to allow Twilight entry. “You, you look nice.”
“Thank you,” Twilight said flatly, doffing her coat and hanging it up on the coat rack on the wall. Flash deflated a little, following her into the living room.
“Twilight Sparkle, is it?” Joyful Sound smiled, taking her cane and letting it guide her towards her guest. “So you’re the young mare that my son has talked about.” She extended a hoof. “So lovely to meet you at last.”
“Thank you, Pastor,” Twilight smiled, shaking a hoof.
“Tea, dear?” Joyful asked, tapping her way to the kitchen.
“Mom, I can do it—” Flash started to protest.
“Oh, hush, dear,” Joyful scoffed. “You just spend some time with your friend.” She winked in her son’s vague direction, causing both Flash and Twilight to blush.
Flash cleared his throat and gestured Twilight onto the couch. “So...what’s up?”
Twilight sighed, curling her tail around in front of her. “I wanted to talk about Phil,” she stated.
Flash’s face fell. “Um, okay.”
“I…” She sighed. “I still don’t understand how somepony like him could have murdered a pony. I thought he was a good stallion.”
“He is!” Flash cried.
Twilight frowned. “Good ponies don’t kill other ponies or torture suspects.”
Flash winced a bit. “But a bad pony doesn’t help other ponies and put his life at risk for others,” he pointed out.
Twilight’s face fell and her hoof, seemingly on its own, started stroking her own tail, running down the hot pink stripes. “You’re right...and that’s why I don’t know what to think about this.” She looked up at him. “I mean, what do you think about him?”
There was a moment of silence, save for the soft clinking of cups from the kitchen. Flash sighed. “Did I tell you how Phil and my mom met?” she asked.
Twilight’s eyes rose in surprise. “No.”
Flash gave her a brief overview of how Phillip Finder had saved her years ago from her abusive coltfriend. “When mom first told me about Phillip Finder, I spent a lot of time looking up to him...wanting to be like him,” he admitted. “A hero who solved crimes, who protected good ponies from bad ponies. I thought of him as a role model, and when I got to work with him, it made me feel good to give back to him; even when he did things I felt were wrong, I...let it slide because I told myself that he was doing it for the right reasons.
“And I thought he was, he really was,” he shrugged. “I mean...he helped me stand up to Star Cluster, he saved my life when I was kidnapped by the Scorchers...just today, he took a bullet to save a kid! And then, I found out that...that he killed a pony. Murdered him and covered it up.” He swallowed, wringing his hooves.
“And yet...I can’t bring myself to think any worse of him,” he continued. “Yes, what he did was wrong, but...I still trust him. I still think that he’s a hero. Even after what I know he’s done...” He sighed and wiped his face with a hoof. “Am I just being stupid?”
Twilight sighed. “I see your point,” she admitted. “But...ever since I’ve come here, I’ve had to see good ponies getting buried by all the bad in this city. And it…” She growled. “It made me so angry! I hated the idea that good ponies couldn’t do anything!
“And most of all, I hated the idea that you had to turn bad to fight them,” she continued, still stroking her tail. “Most of the police were corrupt; even Trace and Red looked the other way from time to time. I just...I want to believe that good ponies can win.”
“And good ponies do win,” Flash said. “I mean, Phil’s stopped Tinderspark, he stopped Monopoly…”
“But he hasn’t used lawful methods to,” Twilight pointed out. “You can’t just break the law whenever you want; then you're just another criminal.”
Flash frowned in thought. At that moment, Joyful Sound entered the room, balancing a tray with two steaming cups of tea and sugar on it.
“I got it, mom!” Flash cried, leaping up from the couch and carrying the tray over to the table.
“Thank you, dear,” Joyful said, sitting down on the floor next to the two.
Twilight sipped the tea thoughtfully. “Thank you, Pastor,” she nodded.
“Twilight, have you ever thought about the fact that letting Phil examine evidence, sometimes even bring it home with him, was against the rules?” Flash pointed out.
“Well...yes, but it was because he was a consultant,” Twilight pointed out. “And then he went and betrayed us.”
Flash frowned. “So you’re gonna tell me that you’ve never lied or cheated or broken the rules?”
Twilight squirmed in discomfort. “Well...there was that time I overslept before a test at Magic School, and I carried my flash notes in my pocket on the way there for some last-minute studying…”
Flash raised an eyebrow. “And I might have glanced at them a couple times during the test…” Twilight admitted. She glared at Flash. “What are you saying?”
Flash sucked in a breath. “I’m saying that sometimes, even the best of us break the rules. Mother knows I have.”
“I do know, dear,” Joyful Sound smirked.
Flash blushed even harder. “I, um, didn’t mean you, mom, I meant—”
“But cheating on a test is a bit different than killing another pony,” Twilight pointed out.
Flash groaned, obviously attempting to and failing to come up with a counterargument. “Well, I still think that Phil is worth my trust...even if I can’t really explain how I feel.”
“Feelings are a good thing,” Twilight said. “But there are feelings, and then there’s logic and reasoning. And logic says that Phillip breaks the law, so he can’t be trusted.”
“Twilight, if I may?” Joyful cut in. “You are a very intelligent pony: that is your gift to this world. You categorize everything, you remember everything useful. And your ability to sort all that information makes you such a big help to others, and so good at your job.”
“Um...thank you,” Twilight said.
“But you also want to see the world in black and white,” Joyful continued. “Right or wrong, fact or fiction.” She tilted her head to the side. “And I’m sorry, my dear: ponies are not black and white. No pony is wholly good or wholly evil. We all have darkness inside us, darkness that we must struggle against.”
Twilight lowered her head. Joyful extended a hoof and landed it against Twilight’s knee. She slowly reached up to take her hoof and her son’s hoof. She smiled at them both: though her eyes did not see them, they were both struck with the impression that she was looking deep into them.
“I cannot tell you what to believe,” she told the two ponies. “I can only tell you what I believe, and help you decide for yourself.
“I believe that all ponies must answer for their sins. I believe that even the best of us sometimes slip on our paths. But I also believe that ponies are more than our actions. Ultimately, what counts is what is in our hearts.”
“But you can’t see into a pony’s heart and see what kind of pony they are,” Twilight protested.
“Yes, you can,” Joyful said. “If you know them. If you really take the time to look at them, to see them. Their actions, their speech, how they think and feel...all of it’s there. Hearts speak to each other, Twilight. It’s just that many of us forget how to listen.
“You are both good ponies,” she smiled at her son and Twilight. “Kind ponies, who want to make this world better for all ponies. And if you trust in that inner goodness that the Holy Mother put in you, you cannot go wrong.” She let go of their hooves. “Let the flames of friendship be your guide, and you will go down the right path.”
Both ponies were silent for several moments, occasionally sipping at their tea. Flash lowered his gaze and closed his eyes; for the first time, his mind was not racing, clouded with fear and confusion. Just as his mother taught him long ago, he slowly let out a breath, exhaling out all of his attachments and worries. He imagined a bright light, a tiny star, above his head; with every exhalation, that star traveled lower and lower, entering the crown of his head and traveling down into his gut. He allowed that star to fill him up with its light and warmth, feeling it all the way down to the tips of his wings and the end of his tail.
He opened his eyes. “I want to help him,” he said plainly. “I believe in Phillip Finder.” He squeezed his mother’s hoof with a smile. “Thanks, mom.”
Twilight looked at him, then nodded. “There is good in him,” she stated. “I know there is. There always has been good in him: ever since he earned his cutie mark, all he’s been trying to do is help ponies. Maybe he’s just lost his path along the way.”
“And maybe he needs help finding it again,” Flash said.
“Maybe we can help him,” Twilight said, her face brightening.
“Not if he’s in jail,” Flash pointed out.
“Oh, good point,” Twilight’s face fell. “Maybe I can act as his attorney. How long would it take to study criminal defense? Should I add psychology to it? Probably, if we go for temporary insanity...maybe I could come up with a study guide…”
Flash’s eyebrows rose. “Attorney...mom, what’s the number for that lawyer we know?”
“It’s in the notebook next to the phone, dear,” Joyful said. Flash stood up and walked over to a small table, upon which sat a telephone. He opened up the drawer beneath the phone and pulled out a notebook; the text on the pages was written in both hoofwriting and in Braille. He flipped through the notebook, then began spinning the dial.
“Who are you calling?” Twilight asked.
“A good friend,” Flash grinned.
The taxi dropped Daring off in front of her home. She mumbled thanks as she stumbled out of the cab and walked to the door, slipping in the snow. She unlocked the front door and walked into the house.
Instantly, she stopped, her eyes narrowing. She sniffed the air, noticing the odd odor: Saddle Arabian tobacco. Grasping her kusarifundo, she followed the scent into the living room, reaching out to turn on the light. Her hoof flipped the switches, but the light failed to turn on.
“You’ll forgive me, fräulein, but I prefer the dark,” a voice whispered. An instant later, a golden light streaked out of the darkness and struck Daring. She cried out in shock as she suddenly felt the air around her seem to harden; she struggled, but she could not move, as though she were suddenly encased in stone. She could only move her mouth and her eyes.
The golden light reappeared: a unicorn’s horn lighting up in a golden glow. She observed the pony sitting on the sofa, facing her: a tan unicorn with dark brown hair, a thin mustache, and cold black eyes, wearing a suit and a tie.
“Zugzwang,” Daring spat.
“Schön, Sie zu treffen,” Zugzwang said, inclining his head politely.
“Mach es dir Selber,” Daring spat back.
Zugzwang tutted softly, lighting up a cigarette. “Such manners, fräulein. I come to your home to offer you help, and this is how you treat me?” His horn lit up and Daring was suddenly yanked towards him as if on a leash. A four-inch-long blade extended from beneath his sleeve, and he pressed the cold steel against her neck. “I’d have some more respect if I were you,” he hissed, stroking the blade across her skin like a lover’s touch.
A defiant curse sprang to Daring’s mind, but her jaw and tongue wouldn’t work: something about having a sharp knife against her neck held her tongue. She found herself staring into the empty black holes that served as his eyes.
“I want you to understand something, Daring Do,” Zugzwang continued, his tone still calm and casual. “If I didn’t have a use for you, if I thought you were a threat to my plans, I would kill you. Right here, right now. Before you even knew I was here.”
A cold chill ran up Daring’s spine as she realized he was telling the truth; he could have killed her as soon as she walked through the door and she would’ve stood no chance, and she doubted he would’ve even blinked. She glanced down at the blade extending from his sleeve and an idea suddenly sparked in her mind.
“Yes,” Zugzwang said, seeing the question in her eyes. “I am Janus, and I killed Chilled Tumbler. I defied Charles August Silvertongue, all for one purpose.” His eyes hardened and for the first time, Daring saw an emotion cross his face: hunger.
“I want Phillip Finder,” he hissed, his voice lowering to a quiet whisper. “I want him alive, and I want him for myself. I cannot allow him to go to prison, which is why I require your help.”
He paused and leaned back a bit, lowering the blade from Daring’s neck, though he did not retract it back into his sleeve. Daring could not bring herself to relax, even when the icy touch was removed from her neck. Zugzwang cleared his throat and adjusted his necktie with his magic.
“I know you’re after Silvertongue’s journal, and I can tell you where it is,” he explained. “He hides it in one of his paintings with the solid gold frames, they are enchanted so that one can enter the paintings. But our priority right now is getting Phillip out of prison. Here.” He reached into his suit and extracted an envelope, which he held up in front of her with his magic and opened. The contents of the envelope floated out: photographs. Daring’s eyes widened as she studied the images.
Cold Case standing in an alley, glancing over her shoulder, oblivious to the camera’s presence. Cold Case purchasing something from a pony in a trenchcoat and hat. Cold Case slipping a small plastic bag with red contents into her pocket. Cold Case at home, bent over a table, a straw up her nose. Cold Case with her eyes rolled back into their sockets and distinctive red marks beneath her nostrils, clearly floating through a high.
“Cold Case is a red poppydust user,” Zugzwang confirmed. “She has been for years, secretly. Such knowledge would ruin her career if it became public. Silvertongue was able to use this to keep her under his heel; you can use this to get Phillip out.” He stared into her eyes. “You fear Phillip Finder going to prison; if you fail to act, he most assuredly will, and I will have to resort to more drastic measures to get him out. That will be harmful to both of us. This is your best option.”
Daring’s eyes flicked from Zugzwang to the photos to the blade still protruding from his sleeve.
“Think about what I have told you,” Zugzwang said. “Think about what you have now. And do what you know is best.” With a click, the blade went back into his sleeve. “Auf Wiedersehen, Daring Do,” he nodded, and with a flash of golden light, he vanished.
The paralysis spell broke instantaneously, and Daring collapsed to the floor. She lay there for several moments, barely aware that she was shaking, barely hearing her own heart pounding in her ears. She slowly stood up, taking up the envelope. She collapsed into a chair, studying the photographs, her head spinning, still remembering the touch of the blade against her neck.
She remained there for the entire night.