//------------------------------// // Case Twelve, Chapter Eight: Restless // Story: Ponyville Noire: Kriegspiel—Black, White, and Scarlet // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// The rain continued to pour down on the shield covering the precinct, making a constant background sound of reverberating drum beats. MacWillard limped his way across the inside perimeter, ensuring that the dome was fully secure.  “I heard over the radio that there was some kinda big gunfight going on up in the Financial District, not far from ol’ Silvertongue’s mansion,” a thestral officer commented, flapping behind him with his Trotson tucked beneath his armpit. “Lots of ponies calling in panic.”  “That’s probably our guys,” MacWillard nodded, wincing as a fresh wave of pain raced up his leg. Once more, he cursed the asshole who had been manning that damn mounted machine gun.  “You know, when the Princesses showed up with a whole group of Guards, I thought it was overkill,” the other officer commented. “But if what I heard is any kind of indication, I might be wrong about that.” “I hear you,” MacWillard nodded. “This is almost like the Crystal War all over again, with the Griffon Navy in the Bay sending the bombers overhead every other week—”  Their reverie was interrupted by a golden archway opening just outside the dome. Ponies began to stumble out of it, bodies slumped in exhaustion. Celestia and Luna emerged last, their cuirasses heavily stained and battered; Luna winced with every other step, her head lowered to keep the rain out of the bandages packed into her eye.  “Mother of Fantisera,” MacWillard breathed, momentarily frozen in disbelief.  “The gate, officer,” Luna commanded, scowling at him with her remaining indigo eye.  Scrambling to attention, MacWillard limped forward and used the wand to open up a passageway in the shield, allowing his comrades entry. “What the hell happened?” he asked, staring as the entourage trudged past.  “Shit that I thought only happened in books,” Daring commented, tossing the net filled with the statues over her shoulder as she passed.  The group proceeded inside past the lobby of civilians without a word, Luna waving off a medic, and headed upstairs. Celestia guided them into a conference room and gestured for Daring to place the Innsbeak Statues on the table.  Daring carefully lifted each of the artifacts out of the net and placed them on the table as Luna gently spread the recovered fragments of the jade fox necklace alongside them. “Real shame we have to destroy these,” she commented, studying the masterful crafting of each sculpture with an admiring whistle. “Treasures like these belong in a museum, not being sold for bits or turned into weapons.”  “You’ll find that throughout history, the most beautiful things are most often the ones corrupted,” Celestia commented sadly.  “We will handle the disarming of the statues,” Luna announced. “Tend to your wounds and be with your loved ones.”  “Are you sure?” Twilight asked. “I can—”  “No, Twilight: you have done more than enough,” Celestia said with a motherly smile. “Go.”  The group exited gratefully, with two of the least-injured Guards standing by to keep watch over the Princesses, and headed for the stairs.  As they passed the infirmary, Phillip glanced inside. Nearly every stretcher was occupied, with medical staff bustling to and fro between wounded ponies, tending to them as best as they could. Tempest was currently sitting up, grimacing as a medic wrapped bandages around a mangled wing; two Wonderbolts were laying side by side on cots, hissing in pain as their bullet wounds and burns were treated with antiseptic. Captain Hewn Oak was walking through the infirmary, speaking quietly to the wounded, offering words of comfort and prayers. Bumblebee and Arc were sitting against the wall of the hallway: Bee was looking at his ballistic shield, then at the gem-embedded gauntlet in Arc’s armor. “So why do I have to lug this damn thing around?” he complained.  Arc laughed and laid his head on Bumblebee’s shoulder. “No offense, hon, but you need the exercise,” he said.  “Why must there be monsters and criminals and lunatics with dark magic?” Doctor Mortis was bemoaning as she cast Eagle’s arm in a sling, using her magic to mend the bones as best as she could.  “Because I like being a Guard more than being a blacksmith,” Eagle commented, smiling through the pain.  Mortis chuckled once. “I still hate the fact that good-looking stallions like you have to keep putting themselves in trouble for stupid reasons like this.” She paused, a blush racing across her face. “Oh, sweet ancestors, did I just—?”  “You, uh, you did,” Eagle grinned, blushing as well and finding it hard to meet the doctor’s eyes. He paused for a moment, then added, “I mean, I don’t mind being called good-looking by a beautiful mare such as yourself…”  Mortis giggled, her coat taking on a brighter, crystalline sheen. “So, you think we can compliment each other’s looks later?” “I’d like that,” Eagle smiled.  With a faint smile, Phillip continued up a flight of stairs and followed the familiar, hushed voices into a break room. Ponies were scattered across the room, most of them hovering in small clusters around tables, half-eaten snacks and drinks within their reach. All of them looked up as he entered.  “Phil,” his father breathed as he and his mother rushed in, hugging him tightly. He embraced his parents, taking in the rest of the room over their shoulders.  The rest of the Outbackers were all gathered in one cluster in the corner, their eyes relieved as they focused upon him; the lever-action Whinnychester from the ship was leaning against the wall next to them. Muziqaa and Sirba were gathered close to Suunkii, whose exhausted, shadowed eyes showed a faint glimmer of hope as they focused on Phillip; he had the Neighringer with its four small barrels strapped to his foreleg, the safety engaged. Twilight hurried over to Spike, who had been sitting near the zebras, and hugged him, the two of them sagging against the wall: Flash entered, pausing to give his mother a kiss on the cheek before joining Twilight and Spike, draping his wings around them both.  Red Herring wandered over to a red pegasus colt with the cutie mark of a winged lion; Lionheart bounded up to his father, his shoulder ramming into Red’s knees as he hugged him. Red patted him on the head. “I’m all right, kid,” he said, glancing up at the pale yellow pegasus with the flower cutie mark. Honeydew blinked at him, shaking her wavy sea green mane out of her eyes, then jumped forward and hugged him as well. “Isn’t this kind of cliche? A zombie apocalypse bringing the two exes back together?” Red said with a dry smile, hugging her back.  “And I’m suddenly reminded of why I divorced you,” Honeydew mumbled into his shoulder, though the corner of her mouth was lifted up a bit.  Trace sighed and shook his head, collapsing into a nearby chair. "That's it. I'm using those vacation hours I saved up," he muttered. Bobby and Rain finally released Phillip as Daring and Rainbow Dash entered, both of them finding a seat near the door. They tilted their heads back and closed their eyes, breathing slow and deep, their wings hanging off of them like tattered flags. Phil sat down next to Daring and put his arm around her shoulders; she placed her head upon his shoulder as she drew her flask out of her pocket and drained it all in one go, dropping her pith helmet onto the floor.  “What happened when you were pulled in by that shield?” he asked, noticing that Twilight looked up at the sound of his voice.  “I don’t know,” Daring mumbled, not opening her eyes. “The two of us were in some kinda...dream? Hallucination? Whatever. We explored this weird temple in another world.” She shuddered a bit. “I really don’t wanna talk about it. I’m probably going to be having nightmares about it tonight.”  “I'm gonna be lucky if I can even get to sleep now,” Rainbow mumbled as she fiddled with her prosthetic wing. With a grunt, she unplugged the metal limb from the plug where her wing joint used to be and placed it next to a wall socket. Unrolling a small wire from the side of the wing, she plugged it into the wall socket, recharging the limb. “I think I’m going to have to take a break from Hayana Pones for a bit,” Rainbow admitted, scowling at the semi-organic stump that was all that remained of her original wing. “Be here if you're ready to talk,” Phillip nodded, nuzzling Daring’s sweat-soaked mane.  Daring pulled the wandjina token out from beneath her shirt and studied it. It no longer felt strangely cool like it had in the dream world, and the white eyes were clearly painted and did not return her gaze. Yet, as she studied the little, expertly carved totem, she found herself vaguely, tiredly wondering.  “It sounds to me like a Dream Trap incorporated into the shield, blended with a Vacuum Snare, all connected to and powered by the statues,” Twilight commented. “That’s all very complex magic—no ordinary unicorn could’ve pulled it off. I wonder where Zugzwang learned to interweave the shield with the snare—”  “Twi,” Flash hushed her, gently nuzzling her ears. “Don’t worry about that now.”  “Right, right,” Twilight murmured, resting her head against his chest.  “Leave it to you to nerd out when there are zombies running around,” Spike muttered with an audible eye roll. “Actually, I don’t think he’ll be able to use Lazarus anymore, not now that the statues have been recovered,” Twilight pointed out.  “What matters is that you’re all back here safely,” Rain said, pulling Daring Do into a hug before her sluggish reflexes could pull her away. She tucked Daring’s head against her shoulder and gently rubbed her back, running another hoof through her mane and letting out a soft hum. Bobby embraced them both as well, wrapping his still-strong forelegs around their forms like a protective shell. Daring Do remembered little of her own parents: only a few years with the Family had been enough to erase her mother’s face from her memory, and her father had become a phantom to her after seven months in prison and not a single word or visit. She did not remember either of them hugging her.  But this—being held and comforted in warm arms, a silent reassurance that all would be well—this felt like a family. For a moment, Daring was tempted to just bury her muzzle into the warmth of Rain’s hug and let herself drift off to sleep.  The next moment, she shook off the exhaustion that was no doubt allowing her to get emotional and returned the embrace with a brief hug of her own before wriggling out. “Zugzwang is still out there,” she commented.  “We’ll get him in time,” Phillip said. “He’s weaker now, and definitely hurt. No worries.”  Daring sighed and leaned her head against the wall. “I hate just sitting around and waiting,” she grunted.  “Me too,” Rainbow agreed, glaring at the blinking lights on her prosthetic, trying to force it to recharge faster. “We should be out there looking for him, not waiting for him to heal up and make another plan!”  “We’re in no state to be fighting him again, not until we get some rest and resupply,” Trace commented, disappearing into a small closet in the back of the room and retrieving a coffeemaker. He wheeled it out into the room and plugged it into the wall, turning it on with a gurgle. “Whoa, don’t close that,” he warned Spike, who was reaching for the door. “He’s got that key, remember?”  “Sorry,” Spike nodded, retreating.  “I at least need some coffee before facing terrible monsters,” Trace said, percolating the liquid gold.  “Count me bloody in,” Phillip said.  “I’ll third that motion,” Red added.  Soarin retrieved a pair of large chocolate bars from a vending machine and carried them over to where Fleetfoot sat, both of their helmets laying on the floor next to them.  “One of these days, Soarin, you’re gonna be too big to fit in your uniform,” Fleetfoot commented, cracking open one eye to examine him. Soarin just handed her one of the wrapped bars. Fleetfoot let out a low, irritated groan and took it, biting into the chocolate.  Hoofsteps announced the approach of Spitfire, her head hanging low as she collapsed into the chair between her lieutenants. “You okay, boss?” Soarin asked.  “I’m fine, Lieutenant,” Spitfire grunted, taking off her helmet and dropping it next to them.  Fleetfoot frowned and draped a wing over the commander. “You’re not fine, Spitty. You’re shaking.”  “I just—” Spitfire started to protest, but Soarin’s wing wrapped itself around her as well and she knew she would not be able to lie. Her head sagged, her sweaty mane falling around her damp eyes, and she dropped her face into a hoof.  “What are we gonna tell Misty’s wife and kids?” she muttered.  Fleetfoot wrapped her forelegs around Spitfire and hugged her tight. “We tell her that she died bravely, doing what was right. And that we got the fucker who killed her.”  “You should know by now as well as I do, Fleet,” Soarin mumbled, breaking off half of his candy bar and handing it to Spitfire, watching as she nibbled at it listlessly. “The freak’s not dead until we find the body.”  “As soon as the Princesses can get those statues taken care of, we’re moving out and finding him,” Spitfire growled, glancing over at the closed door next to them. The two Royal Guards standing post remained ready, staring straight ahead to take in any sign of danger to their charges within.  Luna’s face twisted in concentration as she fired a beam of blue energy at the Nightmare Moon statue. The golden material cracked and splintered, then suddenly started to faintly glow an unnatural shade of dark orange, letting out a strange thrumming sound as it did so.  “Damnation!” Luna snarled, turning off her magic. She cast her eye over the other three statues, all of which showed various degrees of destruction and decay but remained whole. The empty eye sockets seemed to jeeringly mock their futile efforts.  “Sister, perhaps we ought to just bring these to the Palace and deal with them later,” Luna commented, huffing in frustration.   “I’m worried that the teleportation might destabilize them,” Celestia frowned. “Do you feel that energy leaking from them?”  Luna did feel it, like a swarm of gnats constantly buzzing around her horn. She scowled at the Innsbeak Statues. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted. “But none of our efforts are having much effect. We shall have to load them into the helicopter—”  She paused, flinching. She drew in a gasp and stared down at her left side, where the cuirass covered her.  “Luna? What’s wrong?” Celestia asked.  The sensation came again: like something wriggling against her skin, underneath the armor. Luna flinched again, then gasped in horror as she felt it crawling up towards her collar.  A moment later, a serpentine figure of black slime pulled itself out of Luna’s cuirass and flopped to the ground, squirming across the floor. A blue key dangled from its mouth.  “Get it!” Celestia cried, trying to zap the magical construct, but it dodged every single one of her attacks, writhing under the door. The alicorns burst through the door, heads darting around amidst the sudden clamor.  “There! Destroy it!” Celestia shouted, pointing at the serpentine construct as it darted for the open door of the infirmary.  The Wonderbolts all dived for it, but missed by inches, leaving the two Royal Guards unable to fire for fear of hitting the pegasi. The eel reached the infirmary door and before anypony could stop it, it slammed the door shut with its tail and inserted the key into the lock.  An arc of golden light struck the eel, disintegrating it into ashes, but it was too late. With a crash, the door to the infirmary burst open. A dark red light spilled from the threshold as he emerged, nude except for a pair of gauntlets, black eyes blazing.  The Royal Guards opened fire as one, bullets screaming through the air, but Zugzwang dissolved into black ooze, racing along the floor in a disgusting torrent. He flowed over the Wonderbolts, who screamed and writhed as the acidic slime bit into their exposed skin. The Royal Guards and the princesses attacked with bullets and fire, but the slime absorbed their attacks as it ran along the wall and ceiling. It dodged around the attackers and inside the conference room, reassembling into Zugzwang. He raised a hoof and the Key of Shadow Walker flew to his grasp. A golden falchion formed in his hoof and he sliced the head off of Daybreaker. The statue began to crack and vibrate, gold and orange light leaking out through the splinters as a great humming filled the air.  Zugzwang returned to the doorway to find that his way back was blocked by a blue and golden shield. The alicorns, guards, Wonderbolts, and officers stood behind it, weapons up and rage in their eyes, with more pouring from the infirmary door.  With a growl, Zugzwang turned into a golden sphere and zipped up the stairs in retreat.  Celestia started to give chase, but gasped when she saw what had happened. “The statues!” she cried, jumping back into the conference room.  The Daybreaker statue was glowing brightly, and the other three statues were all cracking and glowing as well, adding their humming tones to the ominous harmony.  Celestia and Luna glanced at each other, then grimly nodded. “Guards, give chase!” Luna ordered, joining her sister as the two lit up their horns. A sphere of blue and golden light formed around the two Princesses and the statues.  “Princesses!” Eagle cried, lunging for his charges, but his injuries slowed him. With a final flash and a crackle of energy, they disappeared.  “What was that?” Twilight asked, looking up.  Rainbow Dash quickly unplugged her prosthetic and hurriedly reattached it as Phillip, Daring, Trace, and Red all stood up, drawing their sidearms. Daring placed her helmet back on her head, pushing Rainbow behind her with a wing.  “Red,” Honeydew whispered, gripping the pegasus’ foreleg. He squeezed her hoof for a moment and patted his son on the head reassuringly, but kept his eyes on the door.  Bobby took up the Whinnychester, ushering the rest of the Outbackers and the other unarmed civilians into the corner. Suunkii took up post next to him; he swallowed and licked his lips, tail flicking from side to side in agitation, but his foreleg did not shake as he clicked off the Neighringer’s safety and raised the weapon. Joyful Sound took the hooves of those next to her, prompting the others to do the same. Phillip proceeded to the door and looked down the empty hallway just as the first gunshots roared up from below. “Bugger,” he muttered, slamming the door shut. Trace and Twilight began to move the table and other furniture in front of the door, barricading it.  It was all proven in vain, for a moment later, a cannon burst of golden light and sound rammed the door open and sent furniture flying. Ponies cried out in shock and pain as they were sent to the ground.  Fighting through the pain, adjusting the trilby that had somehow remained on his head, Phillip looked up to see a golden blur enter the room, reforming into Zugzwang as he closed the door behind him, dark ooze sealing the jamb.  No, not Zugzwang. The Ngluwi. For the first time, he saw the thing that had once been called the Pony of Shadows in its true glory, not shadowed or silhouetted or on a projection, and what he saw made his blood freeze in his veins even as a few ponies around him screamed in mindless terror.  Its eyes were solid black, like holes into the depths of Tartarus carved into its face. Veins of ink slithered out of the corners of its eyes, pulsing and oozing in an irregular rhythm. They snaked down its entire body, splitting into new branches; at random intervals along the terrible streams, a new eye had torn itself through its skin, each of them just as black as the others. The jaw was locked impossibly wide, mouth filled with black filth; dozens of tongues like writhing eels dangled out of the pitch, lamprey-like mouths with many teeth sucking and slurping at the ends. The horn had become long and curved, constantly seeping the same inky slime. Two wings blossomed from its shoulders; a close examination revealed that the reptilian appendages were made of rib bones and marrow, with black cartilage and more black slime haphazardly holding them together. The circular runes on its torso seemed to move on their own, twisting in small orbits.  Zugzwang looked down at Phillip and spoke in a gurgling imitation of a voice that bubbled out from its throat. “There you are,” it cooed, a tongue shooting out and wrapping around Phillip’s legs, pulling him along; another tongue yanked his revolver from his foreleg. Phillip cried out in terror and pain as the appendages bit into him, his cry echoed by Daring as she was also ensnared, inky ropes winding around her hind legs and wings and disarming her. The two of them instinctively scrabbled to grab onto something as they were dragged towards the closet door.  Zugzwang closed it with his magic, then inserted the key into the lock and opened it again. A red mouth opened wide, preparing to swallow both of them whole.  Daring screamed as she was thrown inside. Phillip managed to grab the threshold, hanging on as the impossible strength tugged at him.  “Phil!” Trace cried, running forward. He slid forward and seized Phillip’s forelegs with both of his hooves, firing his gun at the abomination with his magic. Over the barking of the Filly M1912, Phillip heard the impact of bullets against flesh and an inequine snarl of pain.  Black tongues rocketed over Phillip’s head and Trace let out a terrible scream of pain as the tentacles dug into his eyes with a squelching sound that turned the stomachs of all who heard it. Phillip stared up helplessly as Trace’s mouth dropped open into a mask of pain and fear, his entire body shivering violently in its death throes; the tongues writhed in his eye sockets, and Phillip could hear them ripping and blending Trace’s brain.  Trace’s grip on his hooves slackened and released, allowing Phillip to be dragged through the door. The last thing Phillip saw before the door swung closed was Trace, face frozen forever in a visage of pain and fear, blood, vitreous humor, brain matter, and slime dribbling from his sockets as he fell to the floor.  A blue-gold light appeared over Horseshoe Bay, reflecting off of the waters that churned beneath the light rain and wind. A great humming made of four separate thrumming tones filled the air, cutting through the cold, crisp air even as it was muffled by a shimmering bubble that floated over the water. A moment later, a great explosion rent the air; the sound carried for miles, accompanied by a flash of multi-colored light that burned the sky like a falling star.  Beneath the sound and light, nopony could have noticed two great splashes as two figures crashed into the bay, sinking beneath the surface in an eyeblink.