//------------------------------// // Case Nine, Chapter Five: Family and History // Story: Ponyville Noire: Kriegspiel—Black, White, and Scarlet // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// “Cold, dear, really, you need to relax a little,” Margaret Mare sighed for the umpteenth time. “We can’t take that chance, Madam Mayor,” Cold Case replied from the opposite end of the room. The two of them were standing in a living room that was the size of some apartments. The center of the room was dominated by a large, green felt game table, currently covered by a flat tabletop. Sofas of dark brown earth colors surrounded the perimeter, standing atop lush carpeting. Hanging on the wall were framed maps and photographs of Ponyville’s history, from its founding to modern day. “Cold, how many times must I tell you?” Margaret Mare sighed from behind the small bar in the corner of the room, where she was fixing two strawberry daiquiris. “It’s Margaret.” “I’m on duty, so it’s Madam Mayor,” Cold Case replied, staring out the large bulletproof glass window that filled the room with sunlight. Fifteen stories below, two flags, the Ponyville city flag, and the Equestrian flag, fluttered on small poles in front of the high-end apartment entrance. The parking lot before them was mostly filled with cars of every brand and color. But today there were three black and white cruisers parked in the front of the doors. Today there was an officer in the front lobby, three officers standing in the hallway outside the door of the top floor suite, and two officers with rifles on the rooftop. “Cold, do you know how many death threats I’ve received in my twenty years as Mayor?” Mayor Mare sighed, placing both drinks on a tray and carrying it over to the unicorn. “Granted, none of them were as theatrical, but--” “None of them also involved killing another pony,” Cold Case interrupted, frowning at the daiquiris. “And I don’t drink on the job.” Margaret Mare smirked. “You certainly drink when writing term papers,” she commented. Cold Case turned away, but not fast enough to cover up the color rushing to her cheeks. “I thought we agreed to never speak of that,” she muttered. “Oh, come on, it was an excellent term paper!” Margaret laughed as she took a sip from her own drink. “Your history professor certainly thought so; he gave you an A on that paper!” She chuckled at Cold’s increasing blush. “I keep saying you should’ve taken my advice and done the rest of your papers drunk.” “I’m sure that would’ve made an entertaining year,” a male voice said, entering the room. A tall dark gray donkey, his reddish mane streaked with silver, trotted into the room, adjusting his bow tie. “Hello, Cold.” “Michael,” Cold Case nodded. “How’s work?” “Well, can’t say it’s every day I get a police escort home,” Michael smiled, greeting his wife with a kiss. “But I think we’re doing all right. You know, the Foal Free Press’ numbers have been going up ever since you became Chief. You’re the best thing that ever happened to my paper!” “Well, I’m glad I’ve been able to entertain your readers,” Cold deadpanned, turning back to the window. “Still no sense of humor,” Michael sighed, shaking his head. “She lost it when she dropped out of college in junior year and went to the police academy,” Margaret sighed, handing the second daiquiri to Michael. “Though, to be fair, it was pretty clear that college was boring you. You had a calling in the force, and you’ve answered it brilliantly.” A small smile slipped through Cold Case’s mask. “Well, political science was clearly your calling,” she commented. “You certainly have a habit of never shutting up.” Margaret stuck her tongue out at Cold. “Now, come, dear,” she gestured to her husband. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of ideas for that novel you’re working on.” Michael followed his wife towards the doorway the next room. “Margaret,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you’re not worried?” “Of course I’m worried,” Margaret Mare admitted, reaching for the door. “But not as worried as I would be if I didn’t have good ponies, good officers, surrounding me.” The squeak of the door opening was punctuated by a startled yelp, and the mayoress turned to see the shaking barrel of a revolver aimed at her face. Cold Case whirled around, drawing her pistol from its shoulder holster as her magic seized the Mayor, flinging her to the ground. “Drop it!” she barked at the intruder. The dark red mare screamed again and tossed the revolver to the floor, raising her hooves. “I’m sorry!” Nervous Nellie squeaked. “Nellie, what were you doing?” Margaret scolded her assistant, picking the revolver up off the floor. “And how did you get into my gun safe?” “I saw the combination over your shoulder once, ma’am,” Nellie admitted, still trembling and watching as Cold slowly lowered and holstered her weapon. “And I was patrolling the rooms. You know, just to make sure nopony was here.” Mayor Mare smiled and patted Nellie’s shoulder. “Nellie, I appreciate it, but you should really go home and get some rest.” “No can do, ma’am,” Nellie declared, straightening up. “If some assassin wants to get to you, they’ll have to go through me first. I’ve got a pot of extra-strength percolating already!” She tried to smile, but it came out looking like a grimace, complete with an eye twitch that spoke of too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Margaret sighed and shook her head. “All right, then. But no more prowling around, all right?” “Yes, ma’am,” Nellie nodded, taking her place at the mayor’s side. She shot a nervous, apologetic grin at Cold Case, who simply stared icily at her. Cold Case turned and looked back out the window, scanning the area outside, awash in the golden and orange hues of sunset. A few cars came and went up the narrow drive that connected the apartment’s driveway to the main street. Neighboring the apartments to the south was an office building; to the north was a shopping mall with a high-end restaurant on the top floor. The great neon sign depicting the restaurant's logo, a baguette and a bowl of soup with a spoon in it, flickered on and off in golden light. “Roof units, anything to report?” she spoke into the walkie-talkie strapped to her coat. “Roof One, negative,” a voice replied. “Looks like the restaurant’s getting ready to close for the day.” “Roof Two, negative,” another voice said. “They all closed for business a little over an hour ago.” “Copy that. Keep watching the skies,” she stated and followed the trio into the dining room. Flash Sentry and Joyful Sound lived in a humble apartment complex in the northern borders of the Everfree District, a four-story brick edifice that stood amidst a long line of similar buildings. Phillip could see the steeple of the Temple only a few blocks away, easily within walking distance. Phillip approached the front door and examined the mailboxes, finding that number five was labeled “J. Sound and F. Sentry” in flowing letters. Stepping through the unlocked door, he ascended up the narrow, creaking staircase to the second floor and walked down the hallway to the door marked number 5. He could hear faint voices from inside; three of them, two female, one male. He paused at the door. “He’s probably fine,” he muttered to himself. “He doesn’t need me.” His hooves, however, refused to turn and head back up the hallway to the stairs. He shifted his weight in place, frowning. “Sounds like he’s got things in hoof,” he muttered to himself. Still he couldn’t convince his hooves to move. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice urged him: Get your arse through that door, you bogan. Phillip sighed and mopped his brow. He reached up and knocked at the door. Hoofsteps sounded from behind the oak door, accompanied by the tapping of a cane, and the door opened. “Who is it?” Joyful Sound asked, her blue eyes staring at the center of his chest. “It’s Phil,” he said quietly. “Phillip!” Joy said, her eyes widening in happiness. “Come on inside.” She stepped to one side to allow him to enter. Phillip stepped through, the sky blue carpet tickling his hooves. He followed behind Joyful and entered the living room. Flash was sitting on the couch, staring at his hooves, holding an ice pack in his lap. Twilight Sparkle was sitting next to him, one hoof on his back. Flash looked up at Phillip as he entered. His face was haggard, his blue eyes dull and lifeless. “Hey, Phil,” he muttered. “What happened to your arm?” Twilight asked, her eyes wide with shock and concern. “Pulled the shoulder, it’s fine,” Phillip waved the question off. “You okay, Flash?” he asked, sitting down on a cushy couch on the opposite side of the coffee table. Flash looked back down at the floor. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “No, you’re not fine,” Twilight replied. “You’ve barely spoken at all since I got here twenty minutes ago.” “Maybe because I don’t have anything to say,” Flash grunted at her. Twilight frowned in thought for a moment, then sighed. “Flash, I’m not going to give up on you,” she stated patiently. “But this would go so much easier if you opened up and talked to us.” “I don’t—!” Flash started to snap at her but stopped himself when she flinched. “Flash, they just want to help you,” Joyful chided gently as she trotted into the kitchen. Flash sighed. “Look, I appreciate the help, but I...I don’t think this is something I can talk about.” “Why not?” Twilight asked. “It’s because you need somepony who understands to help,” Phillip said quietly. Flash looked up at him, his eyes suddenly showing a hesitant hope, and nodded. The rattling of cups from the kitchen told them all that Joyful was preparing tea. “When Zugzwang showed up and pounded you, it hurt,” Phillip said. “You’re supposed to be the shield of the ponies, the one who stands up to the bad guys. And he just took you down like you were some ankle-biter big-noting yourself.” Flash blinked a couple of times as he tried to translate the slang, then nodded. “Yeah.” He gritted his teeth; his front hooves shook a little. “I’ve been in fights before: I’ve won more than I lost, and I’ve been training hard. But he…” He made a strange, choked noise in his throat and looked down, clenching his shaking hooves together. “It scared you,” Twilight said quietly. “Being beaten down. Being helpless.” Flash looked up, his eyes wet and blazing with quiet fury, and nodded. “Let me show you something.” He stood up and walked down a short hallway, with Twilight and Phillip following. They reached a bedroom at the end of the hallway. The walls of the bedroom were decorated with posters of comic book superheroes, rock n’ roll bands, and motorcycles, covering up most of the yellow flower-print wallpaper. The bed was rumpled and littered with comic books. A stack of records and a record player sat in the corner of the room, along with a red and white acoustic guitar on a stand. A small bookcase stood next to the dresser and closet; the bottom shelf had books on sensational criminal cases, law, forensic sciences, and self-defense, while the entire top shelf held the entire collection of Ogres and Oubliettes guidebooks, though they were all out of order. Twilight stared at the shelf, her eye twitching. Flash opened up the closet and took down a cardboard box, which he set on the bed. He opened this up and started removing the contents. First out of the box was a photograph of himself as a colt and Joyful with a tall orange stallion with a short white beard. The stallion wore an Army uniform, the double silver bars and sun-moon icon on his shoulders identifying him as a lieutenant colonel. His cutie mark was a storm cloud being pierced by a sword. He had his foreleg across the younger Flash’s shoulders, beaming down at him as Joyful kissed him on the cheek. “Your father?” Twilight asked quietly. Flash nodded in silence and reverently put the photograph down on the bed. He removed a couple of boxes that held medals, then pulled out another, smaller, dust-covered velvet box. He gently blew some dust off this box and opened it. Inside was a small, torn, faded piece of light golden-orange fabric. Flash gently unfolded this and held it up. Sewn into the fabric was a coat of arms: a shield with a winged, four-pointed star and olive branch embossed into it. Beneath it was a necklace of glowing jade. Twilight’s eyes widened as she examined the coat of arms. “Is that… Flash Magnus’ and Somnambula’s ancestral mark?” “It is,” Flash nodded solemnly. “Passed down directly through my father’s line.” “You’re descended from two of the Pillars of Equestria?!” Twilight cried, standing up with an expression of amazement. “I am,” Flash grunted, dropping the small banner onto the bed and flopping down onto the mattress. “And I’ve had that hanging over my head every day since I joined the force. Why do you think I never told anypony?” “Why would you want to hide your ancestry?” Twilight asked, looking astounded. “This is amazing! Do you have any other artifacts of theirs? Journals? Anything that—?” “Twilight,” Phillip interrupted, covering her mouth with a hoof. She froze for a moment, eventually realizing that both stallions were glaring at her. She deflated and sat down, composing herself. "Sorry," she apologized. “I’ve never mentioned it because every pony in my family line was a hero,” Flash grunted, scowling. “My ten-something great-grandfather wielded a legendary shield and faced down dragons, my grandmother rescued a prince from a sphinx, and they helped Starswirl the Bearded and the other Pillars protect Equestria and taught Celestia and Luna. And all of their children grew up to be legends in their own right. My father was a big army hero: you know how many medals he won? A lot!” He flung his hooves up in frustration and sighed. “And here’s me, a street cop who got his butt handed to him and whose hooves start shaking when he’s in a gunfight.” He laid fully down on the bed and mopped his face with his hooves. “Flash, there's no shame in being scared,” Twilight said, taking his hoof. “Yes, there is,” Flash grunted. “I’m the latest in a long line of heroes. I’m not supposed to get scared! And I’m not supposed to get sent home with a concussion!” Twilight thought for a moment. "Flash, would you say that Phil and Daring are brave?" she asked. Flash looked up at Phillip, shame casting dark shadows over his face. "Yeah," he admitted. "When they get hurt, do they go to the hospital?" she continued. Flash blinked, looking at Phil's cast. "...yeah," he said slowly. "So what's wrong with you having to take time to rest if you get hurt?" Twilight replied. "You're a pony, Flash. A brave, smart, talented, good-hearted pony who's great at their job. But you still get hurt and need to heal, like everypony else. There's no shame in that." Flash chewed his lip for a moment, then sighed. "I...I don't know," he mumbled. Phillip walked over to Flash and sat down next to him. “Flash, I knew your father for a while,” he said. “He was a good stallion, a brave stallion.” “He was,” Flash nodded quietly, looking at the photograph wistfully. “And he told me once that he was terrified before every battle,” Phillip said. Flash sat up, his eyebrows shooting up towards his mane. “Really?” “He had nightmares every night after a battle or engagement,” Phillip continued. “He’d shake in his boots whenever he thought of getting his ponies into a fight.” Flash stared at Phillip in quiet disbelief. “And I get scared all the time,” Phillip continued. “So does Daring; seeing Zugzwang coming through the wall like that terrified us both.” He patted Flash’s head. “See, Flash, being a hero doesn’t mean being fearless. Anypony who says they’re never scared is either a liar or a bleeding idiot. Your father and your ancestors were neither. Hell, you’d have to have a brain the size of a gnat to not be scared of dragons or sphinxes.” Flash sat up, his posture slightly bent over as he pondered. “Flash, being brave isn’t the same as not being scared,” Phillip said. “Being brave is doing the right thing even when you’re scared. Earlier, when Zugzwang was fighting you, it was clear to anypony that you were outmatched, but you got up and tried. That’s brave. That’s what a hero does.” “I still lost,” Flash mumbled. Phillip let out a small chuckle and gestured to his foreleg, still trapped in a cast and sling. “You think I’ve never gotten my arse handed to me? You think your father won every fight? Or Flash Magnus or Somnambula?” Flash shrugged. “I guess you’ve got a point…” “It’s easy to be hard on yourself: you want to do better,” Phillip nodded. “Nopony’s perfect, Flash. It doesn’t matter if you get knocked down; happens to everypony. What matters is if you decide to get back up.” Flash considered his words in silence for several seconds, his eyes drifting down to the photograph of his father. He lifted it up in his hooves and stared at it. “You’re right,” Flash nodded, standing. “I gotta get back out there: ponies are depending on me, on every officer. I can’t let one bad guy dictate when I give up.” Twilight applauded. “That’s the spirit, jackaroo,” Phillip nodded proudly. “But maybe you should wait until tomorrow,” Twilight cautioned. “Just in case there are any lasting effects from the concussion.” “Yes, mom,” Flash muttered dryly, rolling his eyes. “Sweetheart, that’s my job,” Joyful Sound chided with a small laugh, entering the room with a tea tray balanced on her back. “Mom, let me get that!” Flash cried, getting up and taking the tray in his hooves. “Twilight, Phillip, will you be staying for a bit?” Joyful asked. “I’d love to,” Twilight smiled, scooting over to sit closer to Flash. Both of their cheeks colored a bit. “I should…” Phillip started to say but found himself unable to finish the sentence. He tried to stand up and head towards the exit, but his hooves seemed locked onto the floor. He stared at Joyful’s hooves, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to form the words. “I have…” “I was just about to start making my carrot and black bean tacos,” Joyful said in a small sing-song voice. “The same ones I use for the Hearth’s Warming dinner.” Phillip’s eyes widened, and his stomach let out a growl as his mouth watered. Joyful chuckled. “Little tip for you, dear,” she said, turning in Twilight’s general direction. “The fastest way to a stallion’s heart is through their stomach.” “Well, good food does produce endorphins, which improves mood,” Twilight mused, sipping at the tea that she’d taken from the tray. “This is good! Jasmine?” “My favorite,” Joyful nodded. “This isn’t a date, mom,” Flash sighed, smiling in mild exasperation. “What’s next, you’ll pull out the baby pictures?” Joyful’s blue eyes seemed to twinkle. “What a splendid idea, dear!” she said, turning and heading back up the hallway. The color drained from Flash’s face. “Mom, I was joking!” He turned and looked at Twilight and Phillip, who were both smirking at him. “Me and my big mouth,” he groaned. “Awww!” Twilight cooed, looking over Joyful’s shoulder at the book she was holding in her lap. Licking the last of the tacos from his lips as he entered the living room, Phillip glanced over Joy’s other shoulder and saw a photograph of what appeared to be an orange ball of fur with a shock of blue hair laying half-wrapped in a blue blanket. The photograph was labeled “Flash 5 months old.” He glanced over to the other side of the couch and saw Flash hiding his reddening face behind his wings. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispered into Flash’s ear. “When you meet her parents, then you can get some payback.” Flash just blushed harder. Twilight’s laughter brought their attention back to the photo album. “What’s this one?” Joyful asked, tracing the photographs with a hoof. “He’s wearing an Army uniform that’s too big for him and a tin pot on his head,” Twilight described the photo through giggles. “Ah, yes, he loved playing dress-up and pretending to be a soldier,” Joyful smiled fondly. “Just like his father.” The smile faded from Twilight’s face and her hoof drifted towards Flash’s. “Oh,” she mumbled. “I-I’m sorry about--” “It’s okay,” Flash said, taking her hoof and squeezing it. “I miss my dad, but I’m happy to have known him, even if it was just for a little while.” Twilight blinked and smiled at him. Phillip felt a familiar itching tingle on his lips and cast his eyes around until he noticed a glass doorway leading to a balcony. Quietly, he exited through the doorway, exiting onto a small balcony with a pair of lawn chairs set up. The cool wind of the night kissed his skin. Beneath him, cars passed by, tires grinding against the asphalt; in the distance, sirens and horns sounded, the music of the city. He glanced up at the stars above him, slowly tracing the constellations. Cancer, Cassiopeia, Ursa Major, and then up to Ursa Minor. Polaris winked down at him, warm and comforting. “And that big, bright star there: that’s Sirius,” he heard Daring’s voice in his ear. “Really makes you wonder why they’d name a star after a dog. Or maybe it’s the other way around.” Smiling, Phillip extracted a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his vest. Shaking out a fag, he placed it in his mouth and lit it. The mint-flavored smoke filled his mouth, and he sucked it down with a contented sigh. “I heard those things are bad for you,” Joyful Sound said, exiting onto the balcony with him. “You needed some time alone with the kids,” Phillip said, turning to blow the smoke away from her. Joyful chuckled. “I think they’ll be good for a while.” Phillip glanced inside the doorway and saw Flash and Twilight sitting on the bench, leaning towards each other and holding hooves. He smiled briefly and nodded. “Yeah, they’re good.” “How have you been?” Joyful asked, her cane tapping against the floor as she strode up to stand beside him. “Better,” Phillip nodded. “I’ve seen,” Joyful said, leaning against the banister. “Daring’s been one of the best things that have happened to you.” “She is,” Phillip nodded, taking another drag on the cigarette. “She…” He swallowed and looked at Joy. Joy turned to him and smiled in his general direction. For just one moment, in his eyes, all the white in her mane faded into bright, vibrant blue, and the dull shine vanished from her eyes, the irides focusing upon his with an expression of serene love. “I missed you,” he said quietly. “I did, too,” Joyful nodded, her eyes drifting downwards. “I know your work was important to you, but when you stopped coming to the Hearth’s Warming dinners, and…” She sighed and looked up at him. “I’m glad she makes you happy.” “You made me happy, too,” Phillip said quickly. She blinked, and he grunted in frustration, turning away. “And I’m glad that...that Storm Strike made you happy…” “You and I, we weren’t right for each other, and we both knew it,” Joyful said calmly. “Yeah,” Phillip nodded. “Yeah, I know. And Storm Strike was a good pony. Better than me.” “But you are still important to me,” Joyful continued, leaning against the banister next to him. “And you are important to Flash. He needs you in his life.” Phillip grunted and took another long drag on the fag. “What’s wrong?” Joyful asked. “He deserves better than me,” Phillip muttered. “And I can’t replace Storm. It’d be an insult to his memory.” “I’m not asking you to replace him,” Joyful said. “But my son needs a pony in his life who he can turn to for problems that I can’t help him with. Somepony he can look up to, depend upon.” “And you really think that’s me?” Phillip asked quietly. Joyful extended a hoof and carefully guided it onto his shoulder. “I know it is,” she replied. “You’ve walked a hard path, and you’ve gone astray. But the Holy Mother gave us all the gifts we need to find our paths again if we need to. You just need to learn to see them, and use them.” Phillip looked at Joy, who was smiling at him, eyes vaguely aimed at his mouth. Then he turned to look over his shoulder through the glass door. Twilight and Flash were still sitting on the couch, holding hooves and talking to each other, both blushing. They paused, neither of them seemingly able to meet each other's’ eyes for a moment, then they both leaned forward. Their lips met in a kiss, the gesture clearly inexperienced, but gentle and warm. The two ponies separated quickly, both of them blushing even harder, but their hooves remained attached to each other. Phillip sighed and doused the cigarette on the banister. “Maybe,” he nodded. “Maybe.” He stood up and stretched. “I need to get home: work to do tomorrow.” “Absolutely,” Joyful said. She draped her foreleg around his shoulders and gently squeezed him to her side. He stiffened up for a moment, but then placed a foreleg around her shoulder and hugged her back momentarily. “Those tacos are still as good as I remember,” he nodded at her. He gently brushed his lips against her forehead, inhaling the scent of lilac in her hair. “Good night, Joy.” “Good night, Phillip,” Joyful Sound said. Phillip reentered the room, flicking the used cigarette into the trash can. Twilight and Flash both yelped in surprise and pulled away from each other as he entered. “Night, you two,” he nodded to the two ponies. “Good night,” Flash smiled, brushing the back of his mane with a hoof and smiling. With a small smile, Phillip exited the apartment.