//------------------------------// // Case Fifteen, Chapter Six: Making Fire // Story: Ponyville Noire: Misty Streets of Equestria // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// When Phillip landed back in reality, he had just enough time to take in the smell of motor oil, the feel of cold concrete beneath his hooves. And then he felt a sledgehammer drive into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs.  Hooves and claws grabbed at him, blows rained down on him like hail. He raised his forelegs and swung violently, managed to land a few hard blows that fractured ribs and noses, but it was an exercise in futility. He was thrown to the concrete floor and he caught a brief glimpse of a dark green hoof before it crashed down onto his head. Pain flared across his entire body, stealing the strength from his limbs and washing his vision in white.  From far away, he heard the loud crackling of a teleportation and four voices grunting as bodies hit the floor. Another chorus of blows rang out, mixed with two female voices that made Phillip’s heart sink.  “Motherfuckers!” Daring Do shouted, her bark punctuated by a howl of pain and the unmistakable sound of a hoof landing between somepony’s hind legs. Her swearing was cut off a moment later by the crack of a blow ringing across her jaw.  “Let go! You won’t get away with--!” Autumn Blaze’s taunts were soon ended as well by more thumping blows, and Phillip heard her yelping as hoofcuffs clicked over her wrists.  He felt himself being lifted up and dragged, thrown down into a chair; Autumn and Daring both grunted as they were forced down into chairs behind him. His vest, hat, and holster were all ripped from him and thrown aside, clattering on the floor. Ropes were secured over his body, biting into his skin as they secured him to the chair.  “Let’s get that earring,” a voice next to him giggled. He heard a brief struggle, then an electric tingle of magic and a cry of shock. “Holy shit! It’s Daring Do!”  “Surprise, motherfuckers,” Daring growled in reply. “Not that that fucking glamour did much.”  Phillip took in slow breaths, willing his head to stop spinning and for his stomach to cease its churning. His vision slowly returned as the pain faded to a dull throbbing. Looking around, he found that he was sitting near the back of a large warehouse, the concrete walls fighting a losing battle against mold. A few cars, all of them well-tended, sat in the middle of the warehouse. All of the windows were covered with boards, and the entire room was lit by several hanging electric lamps that cast out a harsh white glow. Gear and random detritus was scattered around the entire area: street maps of Ponyville, stacks of crates, racks of weapons, teleportation crystals, and more. His own hat and vest, along with Autumn and Daring’s costumes, had been thrown haphazardly onto a nearby table. An odor of copper made him glance down and a small chill ran down his spine when he saw dark red stains crusted into the concrete floor, many of them concentrated around a sewer drain, the grating securely bolted into the ground. A hose rack was attached to one wall, the hose itself laying on the floor like a large, green serpent.  Glancing to his sides, Phillip saw Daring sitting behind him to his left: her glamour earring had been removed, revealing her true self. She was blinking tears and blinding dust away from her red-rimmed eyes, shaking her head and sliding her jaw left and right. Autumn Blaze was behind him to his right: along with the ropes securing her to the chair, a pair of hoofcuffs were snapped around her wrists. Stifled whimpers flittered out from her bloodied lips as she struggled feebly.  At least twenty figures stood around the warehouse, all of them glaring at them: one yellow earth pony stallion was standing in a bow-legged stance, giving Daring Do a particularly venomous glare that she returned with a grin. Directly in front of him was the green unicorn from the bar, his face mere inches from Phillip’s so that he could smell his kidnapper’s breath.  The green orbits set in the olive face glowed with hate beneath the silvery bangs. The unicorn’s horn was alight with a pale blue aura, pressing the gun beneath his dark blue coat against Phillip’s side. The breath that his captor drew between his teeth was steady, controlled, but he could feel the rage behind it.  “You don’t recognize me, do you, Finder?” the unicorn growled, his hot, heavy, hate-filled voice like tar rolling over stones.  “Should I?” Phillip asked.  “I’m Hill Crest,” the gunpony snarled. “And you sent my boss to die!”  A vague memory clicked in the back of Phillip’s mind. “You were one of Monopoly’s drongos,” he grunted. “Your case was dropped because of lack of evidence.”  “I was one of his best men,” Hill spat. “I started from nothing, but Monopoly pulled me out of the gutter. Gave me work, helped me find a home: hell, he even paid for my brother’s medical bills when he got cancer! Monopoly gave me everything! And then you and your bitch came along thinking you were better than your place. You sent Monopoly away, and all of my friends and I were left with nothing! And then eight months after, he got shanked in the back! All because of you! He deserved better, we all did! You stole everything from us!”  “I missed the part where we’re supposed to care,” Daring replied.  The unicorn hissed through his teeth as he ran over and punched her in the gut. Daring coughed and wheezed, hissing in air through her lungs.  “Leave her alone!” Autumn yelled, her chair rattling as she struggled futilely.  “You shut up!” Glade snapped, slapping her. She ceased her struggles with a yelp that turned into soft whimpers.  Glade stalked back around to stand in front of Phillip. “Now, my new boss, Bottom Line,” he spat, seizing his mane and pulling his head back to glare into his eyes. “All he cares about is the end result. And he wants you dead for sticking your nose in here. But Monopoly taught me to think long game.” He grinned viciously at Phillip, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained sickly yellow with nicotine and poor hygiene. “And I like to think of making you and everypony you love suffer.”  Cold fury blazed across Phillip’s limbs like the wind from a storm, as though his blood had been replaced with icy rain. He returned Crest’s baleful glare with one of his own, allowing the hate to wash away the fear, to roil in his gut, stirred by the steady, controlled beating of his heart. Not now: it was a waste of energy to try to fight the ropes.  He slowly exhaled, relaxing his limbs, bringing his hooves closer together. The ropes loosened their hold a bit, giving him some slack. Behind him, he vaguely heard Daring wiggling in her own bonds, already working at her escape.  “We’ll have fun with you later,” Crest spat, turning away. He called over to a hippogriff who was manning a radio set. “Where’s Gold?”  “He’s heading down Sapphire,” the hippogriff reported, raising a set of headphones to her head. “Those two cops are still after him.”  “They won’t be for long,” Crest sneered, taking the folder of information from the table. “Keep an ear on the police band.”  The three captives glared furiously at the unicorn as he carried it over to a larger table and tossed it onto the surface, scattering papers everywhere. “Okay, fellas, let’s see if there’s anything juicy in here. Might need to plug some more holes.”  The other thugs all gathered around, briefly ignoring the captives. Phillip took a breath, steadying his racing heart.  “You two okay?” Phillip whispered.  “I’m...I’m okay,” Autumn replied. She grunted as she strained against the cuffs, then let out a tired puff as she gave up.  “Daring?” Phillip whispered.  “I’m fine,” Daring replied, still wriggling around in her bonds. She let out a frustrated growl. “These guys are good with knots.” She glanced over at Autumn. “Hey, now would be a good time to go nirik on these guys’ asses.” “I’m trying!” Autumn grunted. She growled, shaking in her bonds, then let out a defeated groan. “I...can’t feel that fire,” she muttered.  “Cuffs are blocking your magic,” Daring spat. She shifted a little in her chair, looking around, noting that the only two exits were the doors at the front and back of the warehouse. She spotted a fuse box connected to the lights secured to the wall not far from them.  Looking over at the gathering of thugs, she met eyes with a young blue earth pony, who was one of a number of the mooks glancing nervously back at them. She glared back, gritting her teeth, causing her watcher to immediately turn around.  “Boss,” the earth pony murmured. “You sure bringing both of them here is a good idea?”  “The hell do you mean by that?” Crest grunted.  “Well, I...it’s…” The younger stallion looked up nervously and swallowed. “It’s Phillip Finder. And Daring Do. You know what those two are capable of! If they--!”  “Boy,” Crest snapped, glaring daggers at the younger pony. “I have been waiting for nearly a year for my chance to get my payback on these two, eking out a living working for that small-minded dumbfuck Bottom Line, getting scraps for legwork. I am not about to fucking blow my chance to get payback when it falls into my lap like this! Here!” He shoved a machine pistol at the colt, then pointed at him and two other younger mooks. “You three, watch them!”  The three guards all looked at one another, then strode over to the prisoners and surrounded them, each one aiming their weapon at a prisoner. But despite their guns, they hovered more than a yard away from the trio, wide eyes locked unblinking on them.  Phillip glared at the younger colt with the machine pistol, noting the way his hooves were trembling as he grasped his weapon, the nervous shifting of his weight and the quick licking of his lips. The lime green eyes met his for a moment, then quickly darted down, the barrel of the gun quivering.  It suddenly hit Phillip. These wankers weren’t facing two unarmed private detectives that they currently had tied to chairs.  They were looking at the two ponies who had demolished Ponyville’s ironclad organized crime syndicate in a year. The mare who had defeated the bearer of the mystical Swords of Asocrac one on one. The stallion who had killed an impossible monster that a contingent of Equestria’s military elite and both Princesses had failed to defeat.  They were facing two ponies who did the impossible.  “D-don’t try anything!” a unicorn mare barked at Daring, keeping her submachine gun trained on Daring’s face. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Just...just s-sit there and don’t move!”  Daring grinned back at her. The mare gulped and took a half step back.  Lowering her head, Daring shifted in her seat, grunting as she felt the cache shifting inside her. She was confident she could get it out and open it, maybe even pass a razor blade to Phil so he could cut himself out and a pick to free Autumn.  But she had to be sure that her guards wouldn’t be looking at her.  “Autumn,” she whispered, barely moving her lips. “Autumn!”  Autumn flicked her ear towards her.  “Sing,” Daring hissed.  Autumn blinked, then grinned in understanding. She cleared her throat and sat up in her chair, then started belting out a song.  “This is the song that never ends! It just goes on and on, my friends! Some ponies started singing it not knowing what it was!” The thugs all looked up and stared at Autumn Blaze, who continued to sing loudly, her voice echoing around the concrete room.  “Shut her up!” Crest shouted.  The sentries all glanced at one another, silently debating which of them would be the one to get closer to the monster, who was singing louder and louder with every repetition.  “Oh, for--here!” Crest shouted, seizing a roll of duct tape from a table and stalking over. He ripped off a piece tape and leaned down to place it over Autumn’s mouth. A moment later, he yelled in pain as Autumn bit him.  The kirin started rocking her chair back and forth, spitting and growling and kicking at her captors, her cuffs rattling as she fought against them. A torrent of curses and threats spilled from her mouth, damning her captors to every cruel fate under the sun and more. More of the thugs crowded around her to try to get her under control.  The advantage of knowing where ponies were looking was knowing where they weren’t looking. With a grunt, Daring pushed the cigar tube out, grimacing as her hooves slipped against the lube and condom. She unscrewed the tube, keeping her movements as small as possible. The top of the tube fell off and she hid it beneath her tail.  A razor blade bit into her hooves. She grinned as she passed it into Phillip’s hooves, then took another razor blade and began to cut into the ropes binding her wrists. Two other items fell out of the tube into her hooves, and she quickly passed them into her wing, tucking them between her feathers.  “Once I get out, I’m gonna--!” Autumn’s threats were cut off when Crest finally managed to slap a strip of tape over her mouth. The unicorn grinned as he added two more strips of tape, turning Autumn’s continued curses into muffled grunts.  “Think we’ll have some fun with you first,” Crest leered, running a hoof through Autumn’s burnt orange mane. “Be fun to hear that voice of yours screaming for us.”  Autumn growled at him, but her tail trembled a little, the cuffs rattling as she shook. Daring and Phillip both glared at the unicorn as he laughed, rage festering in their veins as they continued quietly cutting at their bonds.  “Hey, boss!” the hippogriff manning the radio shouted. “Bentley’s got eyes on Gold and the two detectives!”  A dozen mooks excitedly gathered around the radio to listen. “We got backup nearby?” Crest asked.  “Yeah, incoming now,” the hippogriff confirmed, turning up the volume and unplugging his headphones.  “Team Charlie, pulling in,” a voice said over the radio, the speaker barely audible over the roaring of an engine.  Another voice crackled over a different radio frequency. A familiar voice. “This is Bishop Eight, ten-eighty, northbound on Sapphire.”  A vision of Flash’s bloodied corpse flashed before Phillip’s eyes, his stomach twisting at the remembered scent of warm blood and thick, black phlegm. He shook his head to try to force the hallucination away, but the dead Flash’s face thrust itself before him, empty eyeholes dripping that noxious slime, mouth forever open in a shriek.  It’s your fault, Liebling, the dead thing cooed in his ear.  “No!” he gasped out, barely choking it back from a scream. The young unicorn stepped back a pace, the shaking of his weapon becoming more pronounced at his outcry. Phillip sucked in breaths, staring at the concrete floor, ordering his pounding heart to slow.  It’s not happening. It’s not going to happen. He’ll be fine. Focus on here and now. “Phil?” Daring whispered. “Are you okay?”  Phillip took in a breath, held it for one second, then released it slowly. He concentrated on the sounds and smells and touches all around him: Autumn’s muffled grunts and the rattling of her cuffs, the barely audible hissing of Daring’s ropes as she parted them. The coarse cord biting into his hooves. The varying, competing scents of syrupy motor oil, sharp gunpowder, and sickly sweet illicit drugs. The real world recentered itself around him and the vision faded away.  Phillip nodded grimly, swallowing as he continued sawing at the ropes with the smooth blade hidden in his grasp, his movements slow but smoothed out by the exercise that Daring had insisted upon.  Flash and Red would be all right. Right now, he needed to focus on getting himself, Daring, and Autumn out alive. Which meant taking on a dozen guns in a packed area.  Those seemed like good odds.  “This is Bishop Eight, ten-eighty, northbound on Sapphire,” Flash reported into the radio, the siren wailing as they screeched up the wide paved road, flanked on both sides by baroque storefronts and high-end condos. “Subject is a priority witness, fleeing on a blue motorcycle. Need roadblocks in place for nonlethal stop: spike traps, nets, whatever it takes. We need this guy alive!”  “Copy, Bishop Eight, backup is seventy-six,” Dispatch replied as Gold screeched through a stoplight.  “Hang on!” Red braked hard, his vehicle skidding beneath his hooves as he narrowly dodged the halted traffic, sliding past a polished black Phantom close enough to see the unicorn driver’s shocked blue eyes.  “There he goes!” Flash shouted, pointing at their target as he hopped up onto the sidewalk, pedestrians diving out of the way as Gold screeched through a corner.  “Fuck’s sake, man, we’re the good guys!” Red growled to himself, blaring his horn to order everyone out of the way as he screeched around the corner.  Gold was heading up Topaz now, weaving around a slower taxi that honked irritably at him even as it pulled over to the side to allow the officers to pass. As Red closed in, his eyes tracked a blue-white Canter City and Plain heading up the other lane, declining to pull aside for the emergency sirens.  And coming on way too fast.  “Shit!” Red gasped as the vehicle suddenly swerved like a shark lunging at a passing minnow, reinforced bumper aimed at Gold’s motorcycle. Gold only dodged the attack with a quick burst of speed, his bike vacillating over the center lane like a drunkard as he fought for balance, just barely missing an oncoming truck. The City and Plain pulled back into his lane to dodge Red and Flash, then turned sharply, its rear wheels throwing up smoke as they swung around like a tail. With a dragon-like roar, it lunged forward.  With a chorus of screeching engines, two more cars with tinted windows swerved around the corner. The trio of cars closed in on them like predatory birds swooping down on their prey, headlights like eyes shining with hate.  “Oh, shit,” Flash muttered, grasping for the radio again. “Bishop Eight, ten-thirty-three, officers under attack!”  “Copy thirty-three. All officers, ten-thirty-three, vehicle pursuit. Backup needed eastbound on Ruby and Doubloon…” Gritting his teeth, Red tuned the dispatcher out as he swerved around a slow-moving truck. The pursuers stayed on them like wolves chasing a lamed moose.  “Flash, get the shotgun!” Red ordered, glaring at Gold Signature. The stallion on the blue motorcycle, his tie flapping behind him in the wind, was pushing ninety miles an hour, weaving around cars and other obstacles.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Flash mumbled, squirming out of his seat. He started to climb around into the back, reaching over the back seats into the trunk. His hoof met the cold metal of the Rocky Mountain twelve-gauge and he tugged it up, counting the six shells tucked into the holder on the side of the stock and pushing back the slide to check the chamber. The sight of a bright red shell nestled within elicited a sigh of relief.  A machine gun roared out, the sound accompanied a hammering like the car was being pelted by hail. A glance in the side mirror revealed to Red that one of the cars had caught up with them; a pony in a black coat and a ski mask was leaning out the passenger door, fire spitting from the Trotson in his hooves. Bullets smacked against the chassis and the bulletproof windows, splintering the reinforced glass mere inches from Flash’s face. Flash gulped, trying not to think about how a mere half-inch of glass was all that had saved him from death.  “Fucker,” Red grunted, jerking the wheel to the left, flinging a yelping Flash about inside the car. The enemy car braked and Red missed him by inches.  Another car pulled up on the right, passing Red before he could react. “Dammit!” Red snarled, pushing the accelerator to the floor in pursuit.  Grunting, Flash wriggled back into the passenger seat, rolling down the window and leaning out the door. From beneath his coat came a Filly M1912, his hoof slipping easily into the side-mounted sleeve. Breathing deep, he centered the iron sights over the enemy’s rear left wheel. “Keep it steady!” he called to Red.  “I’m trying!” Red grunted, jerking the wheel hard to cut off the other car.  The wheel lined up before Flash’s sights. Smooth exhale, squeeze the trigger, just like he’d been trained. The gun kicked in Flash’s hoof with a sharp flash of flame and smoke. The wheel exploded in a shower of rubber and shrapnel and sparks began flying from the rim. The vehicle skidded across the lane, losing much of its momentum. The Diplomat thundered as Red pulled ahead, pulling up next to the black enemy car. With a grunt, he jerked the wheel hard to the right, striking the car in the left rear wheel. The car spun out, smoke spewing from its wheels and the tires screaming as the driver fought for control, then flipped over and landed on its side with a great crash.  “Ha!” Red shouted, following Gold around a corner with a screeching of tires.  Turning around, Flash spotted the other vehicles banking around to chase them. Bringing the shotgun up to his shoulder, he centered the bead over the lead car, a dark green two-door.  “Shit, hang on! Hill!” Red shouted.  The ground suddenly left them, gravity pulling them in an arc through the air. Knocked off balance, Flash sent a round of buckshot into the air with a thunderous boom. The street met them again with a crash that made both stallions grunt as they were thrown around in the vehicle like dice in a dealer’s cup. The two pursuing cars crested the incline behind them, then crashed down onto the asphalt, briefly skidding around before regaining control, but Red was pulling further away with every moment.  “Bishop Eight, this is Rook Two, coming in on your ten o’clock,” the radio declared. Looking ahead, Red spotted Gold Signature nearing the bottom of the steep hill they were all sliding down, his bike wobbling as he fought for control. From the left intersection up ahead, a cruiser sped in like the cavalry charging in to save the day, cars pulling over at the sight and sound of its spinning lights and wailing siren.  Gold’s head snapped to the cruiser and he sharply banked to the right, just barely managing to avoid a truck that blared its horn irately at him. The unicorn screamed as the bike swerved beneath him, the tires screeching as he fought with the handlebars.  The fight proved futile. The motorcycle slid out from beneath him, and vehicle and rider skidded across the street, narrowly missing an oncoming van. Gold Signature hit the sidewalk and bounced into an empty lot, crashing to a halt next to an abandoned green dumpster. He lay unmoving, blood staining his blonde-dyed mane.  “Shit, shit!” Red gasped, wrestling with the wheel as he forced the Diplomat around the corner, the brakes screeching in protest. He fumbled for the radio and brought it to his mouth as he pulled up next to Gold’s still form. “Dispatch, ten-fifty-two, Wellspring and--!”  A thunderous crash interrupted him. Red’s gaze went up into the mirror and his jaw dropped in horror.  The City and Plain had rammed into the cruiser, which was now spinning across the street like a top, glass shards and debris flying everywhere. The cruiser, its siren still howling, smashed into an oncoming truck. Both vehicles were rocked by the thunderous impact, the truck’s horn blaring out like a pained animal howling.  The other two-door was bearing down on them, engine roaring as if in triumph.  “Damn it, Red!” Flash grunted, opening the passenger door and diving across the hot engine hood, tucking behind the vehicle’s engine block. A salvo of machine-gun fire chased him into cover, bullets clattering as they struck the Diplomat.  “Fuck!” Red shouted, jumping out of the driver’s door and sliding next to Flash even as the dispatcher called for him to respond, drawing his Filly M1912. Flash’s hooves trembled as he loaded two more shells into the chamber, and he sucked in a breath as he racked in a round. Both stallions glanced down at Gold Signature, still sprawled across the ground next to the dumpster; he groaned and his eyelids flickered feebly, one hoof twitching as he tried to wake up.  The sound of brakes squealing and car doors slamming open made both detectives’ hearts skip a beat. The two of them glanced at each other, reading the same thoughts in each other’s wide sclera. Flash licked his dry lips, then nodded. Red gritted his teeth and nodded back.  As one, they popped up from behind the car and opened fire, their weapons roaring in defiance. One thug, then another fell with grunts of pain, their machine pistols spitting hot lead into the air, but the remaining three took cover behind their own vehicles.  Flash recognized the dust-colored donkey with a spiky, sand-colored mane crouching behind the engine block of the City and Plain. “Eagle Trust paying you now, Bentley?” he called, sweeping the bead of his shotgun over the parked cars, ready to snap it to any who dared put their heads out.  “My boss is the same as it always is,” Bentley Browndust called back. “Whoever’s paying!”  His shout was punctuated by the clattering of a Trotson, bullets hammering against the Diplomat’s reinforced chassis. Flash and Red were both forced to stay behind the cover of the vehicle as Bentley continued firing in blind bursts.  The clattering of hooves alerted the detectives: Bentley’s three friends were closing in on them, moving around the cars.  Red poked his head up, spotting a masked figure sneering at him over the hood of the City and Plain, but drew a salvo of .45 rounds that forced him back behind cover. “I got no shot!” he reported. “Flash, we need a plan!”  Swearing with every beat of his frantic heart, Flash darted his head around, looking for any detail that might get them out. A glimmer caught his eye: he looked down to see the sun reflecting off of the mirror that had snapped off of Gold’s motorcycle.  Hooves pounded on the asphalt. “Flash, they’re coming from both sides!” Red reported, poking his head up and immediately drawing a burst of buckshot.  An idea flashed through his mind. Diving for the wreckage, he snatched up the mirror by the remnants of its handle and held it up, tilting it up so that it caught the sunlight. A blaze of light burst from his hoof, as if he was holding fire.  Yelps of pain resounded and the covering fire ceased. Flash and Red both burst from their cover, sights snapping up to targets.  Red hit the trigger of his pistol twice: the masked gangster that had been charging towards him jerked twice, the bullets slamming into his torso, then dropped like a stone when Red’s final shot drilled through his cranium. Two roars from the twelve-gauge announced the end of the other two attackers.  “Move up!” Red called, rounding the car and proceeding towards the car where the donkey was cowering. Flash advanced from around the other side of the Diplomat, the shotgun held up before him.  “Two can play at that game!” Bentley shouted. There was a metallic click, then a silver sphere spun into the air above the parked car.  Flash just barely had enough time to register the stun grenade and turn his head away before it detonated with a burst of thunder and light. Flash felt like the air had solidified, ramming down on him like a hammer: his eardrums felt like they had burst, his head like a cracked egg. His vision was washed out by a sea of white; when the colors slowly bled back into his view, he realized that he was laying on his side, cheek against the hot asphalt.  A blurry brown apparition appeared, slowly walking towards him. Flash identified the submachine gun in Bentley’s hoof, an ugly black construction that promised death. He tried to get up, but his limbs felt like they were encased in lead, feebly responding to his urgent commands; he felt air rushing out of his mouth as he tried to form words, but couldn’t hear anything save for a deafening ringing behind his eardrums.  Flash fumbled for the holster on his hip, but his pistol may as well have been a mile away; his hoof slipped against the cold metal, struggling to find the strap and draw the weapon as a roaring grew in his ears. Bentley smiled as he closed in, lowering the weapon to train his sights on Flash’s face… And then a dark blue shape roared in out of nowhere like a guided missile. Bentley saw it coming too late: the cruiser’s warped bumper slammed into him like a giant hammer, sending him flying off to the side so quickly that Flash was left frozen in disbelief, blinking numbly at the spot where his foe had been standing.  The driver’s side door, miserably hanging half out of its frame, opened and a familiar blonde thestral stepped out, blood dripping from her nostrils as she hustled over to cover the fallen gangsters with her revolver.  “You okay, Sentry?” Prowl called as Bumblebee hopped out of the car, grinning through the bruises on his face.  “I’m fine,” Flash called, standing up slowly and drawing his pistol. His eyes finally spotted Bentley laying in a crumpled heap next to the Diplomat, groaning faintly.  “Still a rookie, eh?” Bumblebee called as he kicked Bentley’s gun away from him and started to cuff him.  “At least I can count on you guys to save my ass,” Flash grinned as Prowl helped him back up. “The other driver okay?”  “He’s fine,” Prowl nodded. “He’s the one who managed to wake us up in time.”  Red let out a long breath, then bent over Gold Signature. “Hey, you still with us?”  The blonde unicorn groaned and his eyelids flickered open. His irides focused upon Red and he tried scrabbling to get up, his limbs flopping around like a puppet operated by an inept controller.  “Hey, easy,” Red said, laying a hoof on his shoulder. “We’re the good guys.” He scoffed and gave him a toothy, ironic smile. “Wish you could’ve let us tell you that sooner. You’re done running, Mister Signature.”  “What’s going on over there?” Hill Crest demanded, leaning over the hippogriff’s shoulder.  “I don’t know,” the radio operator replied, twiddling the dials to change channels. “The police channel is quiet, but…”  Hill hissed out a curse. “If they take Gold into custody, we’re all fucked! We gotta get out there and try to intercept them! Boys, get fueled up!” he ordered a cluster of his henchponies, who immediately sprinted over to some of the cars parked in the warehouse, snatching up keys and tossing weapons into the backseats. “Where exactly are they?” Hill demanded.  Daring glanced about surreptitiously, noting that amidst the bustle, few of the gangsters were actually paying attention to them; even the sentries were watching the chaos instead of them, guns lowering slightly.  She flexed her hooves in her bonds; the ropes cracked quietly, ready to break if she pulled hard enough. She turned her head just enough to catch Phillip’s eyes out of the corner of her gaze. He nodded half an inch in confirmation.  Just one last thing left. Fumbling her hooves a bit, she switched from the razor blade to the cuff key. Moving slowly to avoid catching unnecessary attention, she shifted her hooves towards Autumn’s cuffed forelimbs, the key scratching at the metal. Sensing what she was doing, Autumn brought her hooves closer, allowing Daring to carefully slide the key into the keyhole.  “Autumn,” Daring hissed, fumbling the key about in the keyhole, feeling it press against the spring. “Need you to shield us for a couple seconds.”  “What? Shut up!” the mare guarding Daring shouted, snapping her machine pistol up at her face, but Autumn had already flicked her ear in acknowledgment.  “Wait, hang on!” the hippogriff at the radio called. “Boss is on the line.”  The chaos around them halted, every head turning towards the radio. Hill Crest stalked over to the radio table and snatched the headphones and microphone up for himself, listening for a moment.  “That’s bullshit!” Crest shouted, slamming the table with his hoof. “If he gets in--!”  He paused, face churning in silent fury as he listened. Murmurs began to rise amidst the other thugs, worry and concern plastered on their countenances.  Daring frowned as she continued to fumble with the cuff keys. This would be easier if I could see what I was doing, she groused to herself, twisting the key to the left, then the right.  “Okay, fine,” Crest said. “But what about--?”  There was another long beat of silence, then he grinned. “You got it.” Taking off the headset, he tossed it onto the table as he turned towards Phillip, drawing his Steel and Eastson from his shoulder holster. He stalked towards the captives, his grin widening with every step he took.  “Shit,” Daring muttered, pressing the key harder into the lock. Almost-- The cuffs snapped open and as fast as a switch had been thrown, heat seared across the room with a great whooshing of flame, as though the entire warehouse had been turned into an enormous furnace. The cream-colored mare was replaced by a creature adorned in black, purple, and red flames that ate at her blackened flesh, burning away the ropes and melting the tape over her mouth. Her solid white eyes were framed by more of the same flames, blazing with hate; her fanged mouth was opened wide in a howl of rage, revealing a black hole like a gate into Tartarus. Every gangster in the warehouse flinched away from the beast and her scalding heat, screams of terror mixing with her roar.  Snarling, Autumn ran in a circle around Phillip and Daring, conjuring a wall of dark flames that shielded them from any interference. Coughing as the heat sapped away the air, Daring and Phillip snapped the bonds around their wrists and undid the rest of their ropes.  As soon as her wings were free, Daring pounced through the flames that were already fading away, seizing the flinching unicorn mare who had been guarding her. Her elbow cracked across the gangster’s face, drawing a yelp of surprise as Daring wrenched her weapon from her hooves. With the same momentum, Daring snapped her right hind leg out in a roundhouse, grinning as she felt and heard the blow crack through the knee cartilage. The mare toppled like a tree fallen by a great ax blow, howling in agony.  The sound of blows landing, the cracking of breaking limbs, and the thump of a body hitting the concrete floor announced that Phillip had armed himself as well. Both detectives turned and opened fire, gunshots echoing through the enclosed space. Bullets struck the legs of the other two sentries, sending them to the floor. Another burst of fire from Daring’s weapon destroyed the radio; the hippogriff radio operator tumbled to the floor with a shriek, flinging her forelegs up to try to block the cascade of sparks that burst from the apparatus like fireworks. Daring snapped her wing out: the two smoke bombs that she’d concealed within her feathers flew through the air and struck the walls with cracks of light and thunder, spreading smoke everywhere and adding to the confusion and terror. The two detectives leaped into the fray, driving their closest foes into the floor with efficient blows.  The nirik had turned into a streak of fury, pinballing around the warehouse from one thug to another, leaving smaller trails of fire and broken bodies in her wake.  “This is for Gold!” she snarled in a distorted voice, ramming her head into one stallion and sending him flying back into the wall with a great crash. “And this is for Quick Step!” she shouted, bucking a thestral pony and sending him crashing into a table. “And this is because I just found out I like hurting bad guys!” Autumn roared, pouncing on a larger earth pony, who screamed like a little filly and covered his head with his forelegs as fiery hooves pounded on him like a jackhammer.  “Should we help her?” Daring asked Phillip, cracking the butt of her stolen machine pistol against the jaw of another gunpony.  Phillip drove one wanker’s head through the window of a parked car with a great smashing. “I think she can handle herself,” he commented, flinging a dropped pistol at a mare that was peeking over the hood of the vehicle and striking her between the eyes.  The fight was over in moments, and Phillip, Daring, and Autumn were the only ones left standing in the warehouse, the enchanted flames still dancing along the floor and walls, casting weird shadows and heat everywhere.  “Is that all of them?!” the nirik snarled, stalking across the room, glowing eyes darting around for any sign of movement. “I think so,” Daring said placidly, raising a hoof. “I think you can turn the heat off now.”  The flames dissipated like the burners on a stove being turned off, oxygen seeping back into the room as the heat retreated. Autumn breathed deep as the flames about her body faded, revealing her normal kirin self, her mane damp with sweat and in complete disarray, smoke still rising from her unburnt coat.  “Whew...that was fun,” she panted. “But good thing it’s over. I’m out of fuel.” Autumn raised a hoof and watched as a small sliver of the nirik fire slowly fizzled out. “Nirik fire burns through my magic pretty fast. Heh, no pun intended.”  Phillip turned in place as he trotted over to where his vest was waiting, counting the heads of the unconscious or groaning abductors around them. He only came up with eleven ponies. “Where’s Hill Crest?” he asked.  “Here!”  Autumn had no time to react before the stallion jumped out from behind the car he’d hidden behind, only being able to yelp as his foreleg locked around her neck and cold steel rammed into her temple. A sledgehammer struck the back of her leg, and she cried out as her knee cracked against the concrete floor. “Drop the guns!” Hill ordered Phil and Daring, glaring back at the barrels of their own weapons.  Phillip and Daring exchanged glances, then slowly began to lower the pistols.  “That’s right, drop ‘em,” Hill Crest sneered. “I’m not giving this up for--”  He had just enough time to see the smirk on Phillip’s face before the stallion pulled the trigger, his round striking the target perfectly. The fuse box on the wall burst in a shower of sparks as the lights flickered and went out, plunging the warehouse into darkness.  For a moment, there was silence, then a roar of pain sounded as Autumn sank her teeth into her abductor’s foreleg. Hill Crest instinctively released her, lighting up his horn just in time to see the kirin ducking behind a car.  He did not see the golden streak racing towards him until it was too late, nor did the whistling sound register in his ears until a stinging blow knocked the gun from his hoof, sending the revolver skittering across the concrete.  Daring rammed into his chest a moment later like a giant sledgehammer, crushing him against the brick wall. His cry was silenced when her skull whipped into his chin with an impact like a bowling ball. For a half-second, rage and denial burned in his mind. And then all went black.  “Fucker,” Daring snarled at the slumped form before her. “You okay, Autumn?” she called to the kirin crouching behind the car.  “I’m good,” Autumn grinned nervously, trembling a bit as she stood, lighting up her horn to cast the room in a pale blue light. Taking a breath to recollect herself, Autumn hurried over to the table that was still covered with Gold’s notes. She gathered them up, her smile growing wider and wider as she studied the financial reports, the notes, and photographs contained within, proof of Eagle Trust's illicit activities. “Yes, yes, yes!” the kirin cheered, pirouetting around in a circle. “Busted!” she sang tauntingly. “I don’t wanna put the hurt on you, but you better believe me when I tell you that I finally got the dirt on you!” Slipping on his vest and trilby, Phillip trotted over to the garage door and hit the button. The door opened with a great rattling, allowing the mist-filtered sun to stream through, warming the dark warehouse with its light. “Autumn, find a phonebooth,” he stated as he and Daring grabbed some loose rope and started to bind the unconscious gangsters.  “You bet!” Autumn shouted, gathering up her evidence and sprinting outside. “Next stop, Bottom Line in prison!”