//------------------------------// // Case Sixteen, Chapter Two: Years of Hate // Story: Ponyville Noire: Misty Streets of Equestria // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// Red Herring mopped his face and looked over the files scattered over his desk. “Okay. We got two dead ponies, and we’re pretty sure that they were killed by the same guys,” he summed up.  “Similar cloth in their teeth from when they were gagged, similar rope marks on their bodies, and the bullets were both .38 rounds with similar ballistics,” Flash recited. “But what’s bothering me is the different signatures.”  Red looked at two of the crime scene photographs. One, the changeling propped up against the dumpster. The other, the stallion wrapped beneath the tarp.  “Explain,” he prompted.  “The changeling, Sweet Tart, was literally tossed out with the trash,” Flash stated. “There was next to no attempt to hide the body: in fact, she was practically displayed. Whoever dumped her body had to have known that she was going to be found soon. “Now, with Shutter Speed, the body was wrapped up in a tarp and placed in a junk lot. There was an attempt to hide him, cover him up. That, to me, indicates remorse.”  “And then there’s the torture,” Red added.  “Right,” Flash nodded. “Sweet Tart was tortured before she died for a long time.” He glanced at the picture of her body, then quickly darted his eyes away, failing to repress a shudder. “That speaks of very personal hatred. But Shutter was barely hurt at all. They roughed him up from when they abducted him from his house this morning and snapped off his horn, but that’s basically it.”  “So…” Red prompted, waving his hoof for Flash to continue.  “So maybe we’re dealing with a group that’s hunting changelings,” Flash theorized. “They mistook Shutter for a changeling for some reason and when they realized their mistake, they killed him and dumped the body. Clearly, whoever got rid of him didn’t feel good about it.”  “Give the boy a medal,” Red stated. “So what’s our next move?”  “Try to find out how they identified Sweet Tart and Shutter as targets,” Flash said. “There has to be a common thread between them. Also, better put a BOLO on Sweet Tart’s truck. I’m betting that that’s what they were using to dump her off, since it wasn’t found at her home.”  “Sound theory, lad,” Captain Hewn Oak announced as he entered the office.  “Captain,” Flash said, sitting up straight.  “At ease, son. This isn’t the military,” the gray-maned donkey waved him down. “Where are Detectives Finder and Do?”  “On the street, checking the vics’ homes and trying to track down possible suspects for the killer,” Red said. “Which we should be doing. Only reason we stopped in here was to clear up some paperwork and look through surveillance crystal footage.”  “Your tenacity is always to be admired, Red,” Captain Oak stated. “However, I’m afraid I’m going to have to tug your leashes a bit and pull you onto another trail.”  It took a moment for Flash to decode the Captain’s speech. “What do you mean? What’s higher priority than this?”  The middle-aged donkey gestured back to the door. A Crystal pony, his light yellow coat shimmering slightly, his white and amber mane and beard seemingly carved from precious stone, smiled at the two detectives. The light brown suit he wore looked strange on him, like it was a piece displayed on a ponyquin. His cutie mark was a sun rising over a lake.  “This is Signor Alba Dorata,” Captain Oak introduced him. “Current CEO of North Star Capital Industries. He has a problem with some interlopers and I need--” “Captain, this is bullshit,” Red snapped. “We’re dealing with fucking serial killers right now and--”  Hewn Oak cut Red off with a sharp look and a raised hoof. “Signor, would you give us a moment, please?” he said placidly to their guest.  “Certainly,” Alba Dorata replied after a moment, still blinking in shock at Red’s outburst.  Oak smiled reassuringly at him and closed the door. He took a deep breath before turning back to face Red.  “I know that this doesn’t look good,” he said firmly. “But as much as you want to avoid it, politics are an inescapable trap of our lives.”  “You know that North Star is just Monopoly Investments under a new name,” Red spat back. “How do we know that he’s not just some wannabe don trying to elbow in on the department?!”  “Be assured, I have thoroughly checked out Signor Dorata’s background,” Oak replied. “There is nothing of suspicion in his past. Be also assured that he is in command of a significant financial enterprise, one that he is willing to put at our disposal. Money, a squadron of excellent defense attorneys, weapons, armor, equipment--”  “Why the fuck would I want to touch anything that had been used by Cerberus?!” Red snapped.  “Red, easy!” Flash cried, raising a placating hoof at his partner.  “I understand your hesitation, Red,” Oak stated. “But Cerberus is long dismantled. Is it not better--poetic, even--that those weapons once used against us be turned towards our enemies?”  “This reeks of fish and you know it,” Red spat.  “We are being careful,” Oak replied. “But in case you haven’t noticed, Red, we spent most of the year at war. The cost of that war was in both blood and gold. Put bluntly, we need as many friends as we can get. Especially rich friends who are willing to come forward with their generosity. And besides, it may be wise to keep an individual such as him close at hoof.”  Red huffed through his nostrils but said nothing. “Fine. So why are we being called off the serial killers to deal with him?”  “You are not being called off: I have every confidence that Phillip Finder and Daring Do will find more clues for you while they are out,” Oak explained. “However, Signor Dorata’s cooperation will be easier to acquire if he is assured that we are taking his case seriously.”  “Why did you have to pick us?” Red asked.  “He requested the best we had,” Oak replied. “In fact, he specifically asked for the ones who were most instrumental in defeating Zugzwang.”  “So we’re just catering to the ponies with the deepest pockets now, is that right?” Red scoffed.  “Our priority is and always will be protecting the innocent,” Oak stated. “All I am asking is that you help this stallion with his problem.”  Red fumed silently, trying to come up with a suitable counterargument.  “Red, how about this,” Flash interrupted. “You wrap up this stuff and I’ll help Dorata.”  Red turned his burning gaze to Flash for a moment, then sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled, turning back to his desk with a disdainful grunt.  “Thank you, Detective Sentry,” Oak nodded gratefully, opening the door for him.  The Crystal businesspony was still waiting outside, fidgeting worriedly, avoiding the gazes of the passing detectives. Oak walked up to Alba Dorata and patted him on the shoulder, beckoning to Flash with a smile and a few quiet words. Dorata shifted and blinked at Flash, smiling nervously. Flash looked him up and down, trying to ignore the suspicious squirming in his stomach.  You sure he’s not a mob boss? That this isn’t just another Monopoly? He took a shaky breath to settle his nerves. Right now, he’s a civilian with a case. Do your job, but ear to the ground, Flash, he heard Phillip’s voice in his ear. With a final nod to himself, Flash approached and extended his hoof.  “Sorry about my partner,” Flash said, shaking Dorata’s hoof. “He...takes time to warm up to ponies. I’m Detective Flash Sentry.”  “Yes, yes, I heard about you,” Alba Dorata nodded. “I’m, er, Alba Dorata. CEO of North Star Enterprises.”  “How about we go over here, get some coffee, so we can talk?” Flash offered, gesturing over to a table with a coffee maker set up on it.  “Si, si, that’s good,” Alba said.  Flash led his client over to the coffee machine and poured him a steaming paper cup. “Cream, sugar?”  “Two sugar,” Dorata said.  Flash stirred in the sugar and handed the cup to him. “Grazie,” Dorata nodded, taking the cup in a golden aura and lifting it to his lips.  “So,” Flash said, pouring a straight black cup for himself. “What brings you here?”  “I, uh,” Alba stammered, looking into his cup. “I think I’m being watched and followed.”  “And what makes you think that?” Flash asked.  “Well, for the past couple of weeks now, I’ve noticed a couple of ponies that seem to be following me around,” Alba replied. “I see them from time to time, at the market, around my home. They even came into North Star a few days ago, both of them to speak to some agents regarding investment portfolios.”  “Can you describe them?” Flash asked.  “One is a green unicorn with blonde hair and a beard: I think his cutie mark is a pair of stars,” Alba said. “The other is a yellow earth pony with white hair. I’ve never gotten a good look at his cutie mark, I’m afraid.”  “And you’ve seen them several times in the past few weeks?” Flash continued. “Do you think it could just be a coincidence?”  “I thought it might be that,” Alba admitted. “But when both of those ponies were in North Star, they asked many questions of the staff. Questions about me.”  Flash frowned. “What kinda questions?” he asked.  “They were laced as small talk, asking about what it was like to work with my company, but they asked about my habits,” Alba continued, stirring his coffee with a small stick from the table, staring into the dark brown liquid as if he could scry some answers to his situation out of it. “When I come into the office, my habits. It was enough to raise some eyebrows amongst my staff, let us say.”  “I see,” Flash nodded. “Did you get their names?”  “Oh, yes, um…” Alba fumbled in his suit for a moment and extracted a notebook, flipping it open and studying the scribbles within. “They said their names were Morning Prance and Wheatfield. And, yes, they left some contact information.” He tore off a sheet and handed it to Flash. Flash frowned at the narrow writing on it, having to take a few moments to decode it.   “I’ll see if we can dig up anything about them,” Flash nodded. “In the meantime, I suggest that you stay at home as much as you can. When you need to go out, try to vary your routine: take different routes, change what time you leave and get to work, that kind of thing. Don’t travel alone: I’m sure that you can hire a bodyguard or something. If you see them or anypony else, call the police and stay in public areas.”   “I will. Grazie, Detective Sentry,” Alba smiled, shaking Flash’s hoof.  “I’ll put in a request to have officers pass your house a few times,” Flash offered. “Where do you live?”  “My home is number 77 Steel Street,” Alba replied, an address that Flash recognized as being right in the middle of the Financial District.  “We’ll contact you if we need anything else,” Flash nodded, waving over a nearby officer. “Can you escort Signor Dorata home?”  “Will do,” the blue-bearded officer nodded. “Follow me, signor,” he beckoned, leading Dorata to the door.  “Oh, one other thing,” Alba said, pausing and turning back to Flash. “I saw the yellow one leaving North Star after his appointment four or five days ago. He got into a white pickup truck. I caught part of the license plate.” He frowned in thought for a moment, rolling his eyes back as he struggled to dredge up the memory. “Ah, si: 4-C-R.”  A bell rang deep in Flash’s mind. “I see,” he frowned, nodding. “Thank you, Mister Dorata. We’ll get back to you on this soon.”  “I hope so. A Presto, detective.” With a final wave, the CEO followed his escort out.  Flash hustled back to Red’s office, sprinting inside without knocking. He grabbed the papers on the desk and began rustling through them. “Red, you really ought to try sorting these,” he growled in frustration.  “He says as he makes an even bigger mess than before,” Red snapped back, glaring at him. “I knew where everything was before!”  “Where’s Sweet Tart’s truck info, then?”  Red yanked a paper out of the mess and handed it to Flash with a glare. “Thanks,” Flash said, taking it and studying the typewritten letters. His jaw dropped when he got to the license plate: 4CREN5.  “What is it?” Red asked.  “I think Dorata’s case just got a lot more complicated,” Flash replied.  Phillip crouched on the cracked sidewalk of the small drive in the Everfree District, shaded by trees replete with leaves that were just starting to turn from green to red and brown.  “Yup, blood here,” he reported, pointing at a dark stain on the concrete, long dried.  “How you can find shit like that, I will never know,” Bumblebee commented, bending down to take a photo of the black streak.  “Lots of practice, Bee,” Phillip replied, studying the other bloodstains spread out across the street. “Okay...we know from neighbors that Shutter Speed leaves his home to go jogging every morning around six.” He pointed to a series of teardrop-shaped stains on the ground. “Looks like they knocked Shutter down first, then stomped on his head a few times to daze him.” He paused to think for a moment. “He was already on the ground when the first blow came. Possibly attacked by a unicorn who hit him with a spell.”   He pointed to some dark splatters on the street. “See how those have a sharp border, like they were measured with a ruler? Their vehicle parked there: it blocked the blood coming from this hit.”  “Probably not a pickup truck, then,” Bumblebee noted. “Maybe a van or something.”  “Ripper thinking,” Phillip nodded, continuing to scan the area. “Hmm. Tracks will be useless on a sidewalk and street like this, but…”  “None of the neighbors saw or heard anything weird,” Bumblebee commented. “Then again, most of them weren’t awake yet. But this snatch couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. That van would’ve come right up on him after he got hit.”  “They were waiting for him,” Phillip concluded. “They watched him, knew his routine. Just means that there’s some connection between him and Sweet Tart.”  He and Bumblebee continued to search the area for any other clues but found nothing significant. With a grunt, Phillip turned and looked up at the small green and white one-story cottage that sat at the end of a short drive, a pale blue bicycle chained to a pillar on the front porch. Gallus the griffon was emerging from the front door, carrying a box.  “I got all his notebooks and calendars and stuff,” he reported, holding out the box to Phil.  “Watch your step in the future, anklebiter. You might’ve stepped on a clue,” Phillip said, taking the box. “Good. Somewhere in here, there has to be a connection.”  A sharp whistle sounded overhead as a golden pegasus and a thestral landed on the street. “We went through Sweet Tart’s place,” Daring reported. “Didn’t find anything useful there.”  “Didn’t think you would, but had to try,” Phillip admitted. “You get her calendars, address books?”  “Yeah, here,” Prowl reported, shouldering a bag filled with papers. She passed it over to Phil with a scowl.  “And you asked about rehab hospitals for former service members,” she added. “I have a few friends who go to a physical therapist in the Financial District, the Easy Transitions.”  “Thank you,” Phillip nodded, concentrating on the books.  Prowl scowled a bit to herself. "Something on your mind, Sergeant?" Phillip asked. "I..." Prowl took a breath. "I find myself wondering how many other changelings there really are left in this city." "Does it matter?" Daring said curtly. "It matters to somepony who spent years fighting them," Prowl replied, her voice becoming a growl as her hackles rose. "To somepony who had their squadmates murdered and impersonated by them. To somepony who--" Prowl paused and turned away, taking slow, forced breaths. "Swings at St. Megan's...Uncle Honeydew's candy shop..." she started mumbling to herself, shaking her head. Bumblebee immediately trotted over and pulled her into a sideways hug. Gallus hesitated for a moment, then trotted over and started awkwardly patting her on the back. "Prowl, the war's over," Bumblebee soothed. "The changelings are not the bad guys anymore." "I know, I know," Prowl nodded. “It’s just...not easy to let go of years of hate.”  “Might be best if you took some time to cool off,” Phillip offered. “Thank you for helping anyway.”  Prowl took a breath and nodded. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said, flapping off. Gallus and Bumblebee both retreated back to their positions watching the perimeter. Phillip watched her fly away in silence before turning back to Daring. “Did you check with Buzz?” he asked.  “He wasn't at home,” Daring stated.  “We’ll try again later,” Phillip said. “We should try to find Blue Rose and warn them. Maybe she knows some other changelings.” Daring scowled. “You do remember what happened the last time we spoke to her, right?”  “I do,” Phillip said. “But she also helped Flash when Whitestone was stalking Twilight. And besides, she doesn’t deserve what happened to Sweet Tart.”  The eyeless corpse flashed before Daring’s eyes and she grimaced, then sighed reluctantly. “You’re right.” Phillip glanced at his watch. “Damn: her show at the Apple Pie will be over by now.”  “Flash said she had a daughter, Ocellus?” Daring pondered. “She worked at the library, I think.”  “Right,” Phillip said, already turning away. “It’s not that far a walk--”  “When are you gonna learn?” Daring grinned, spreading her wings wide.  Phillip groaned and closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.  The Golden Oak Library sat on the end of Golden Oak Street, a mile down from the titanic tree that gave the street its name, and from Twilight Sparkle and Doctor Suunkii’s houses. The two-story edifice was constructed of red brick, which stood out against the bright green grass and multicolored leaves of the park behind it. A concrete sphinx sat on a platform at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the door, a welcoming but enigmatic smile on her face as she greeted visitors.  Phillip and Daring landed at the bottom of the stairs and proceeded up to the glass doors, pushing inside. Daring sniffed deeply and sighed at the familiar scent of the books that were stacked up on the shelves, allowing her hooves to sink into the light gray carpet. For a moment, she was a young filly again, looking for something new to read, and her eyes drifted towards the section on ancient history and languages.  She shook herself out of her reverie and followed Phillip to the front desk. “Is Ocellus here?” he asked the gray-maned receptionist.  “She went out back to speak to her...mother,” the receptionist said, the last word rolling off her tongue with a note of distaste as she tilted her head to the back.  Phillip and Daring proceeded through the large library to the back glass doors that opened to the park. A quick glance around revealed a tall white unicorn and an arctic blue pegasus filly standing beneath a low-hanging tree, arguing in hushed tones.  “We can’t just leave!” Ocellus was protesting almost tearfully as the detectives approached. “All of my friends are here, my job--I’m still applying for colleges!”  “Do you remember the lynch mobs?” Blue Rose replied sharply. “Honey, if there are changeling hunters around, I--!”  She cut herself off when she saw the detectives approaching. She frowned a bit and seemingly subconsciously placed herself between her daughter and the intruders.  “Detectives,” she greeted them with a nod. “I, uh...I’d like to apologize for, uh. Last time.”  Daring grunted in acknowledgment, watching the filly. The girl, clearly just barely an adult, ducked further behind her mother, tail tucked between her legs.  “My daughter, Ocellus,” Blue Rose introduced them with a nod.  “G’day,” Phillip nodded to the filly, bending down a little so that his head was level with hers. “Heard you’re rooting to be a librarian.”  Ocellus nodded quickly, shifting nervously in place.  “I’m sure you and Twilight would get along well,” Phillip smiled at her before standing fully up to face Blue Rose. “Gather you know what happened.”  “Rumor spreads fast,” Blue Rose replied, her eyes darting around to check every bystander twice and her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air. “I assume you’re working on the case.”  “We are,” Phillip said. “We’re going to find them, Rose.”  Blue Rose stared at him for a beat, then nodded. “I’m sure you will. But we’re not going to be hanging around to see it.”  “Mom, no!” Ocellus cried.  “Rose, please,” Phillip said, raising a hoof. “I know you’re scared, but--”  “Oh, you know--you know I’m scared?” Rose snapped at him, her furious eyes shifting to the solid green orbits of a changeling. “How would you know?! Have you ever had to run from your home with the little child that you knew they were going to turn into a monster?! Have you ever had to hide from lynch mobs? Have you ever had to walk around with your head down, smelling the fear and hate from all the ponies around you?!”  “Mom, stop it!” Ocellus cried, trying to pull her away.  Phillip took a step back, his chest tightening a bit as he fought down the urge to reach for his baton. He was silent for a moment, then took a breath. “You’re right, I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I do know that you and all the other changelings in this city are in danger. And I know that we’re trying to help you by stopping the bad guys.”  Blue Rose glared at him for a second, then closed her eyes and took a slow breath. When she opened them again, her eyes had resumed their disguise.  “You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, I...it’s hard for me to trust the police after they spent so long hunting me.”  “Hard to let go of that much hate,” Phillip nodded.  “Yeah,” Rose nodded, looking down at the ground. “Promise you’re going to protect my daughter?”  “We’ll do what we can,” Phillip promised. “Are there any other changelings in Ponyville? One of them might be the link between all of this.”  Rose thought for a moment. “You’ll want to talk to Doctor Asclepius, on Marigold Street. He’s the only changeling doctor in town. As far as I know, every changeling here goes to him.”  Phillip nodded. “Anypony else?”  “Besides Sweet Tart and Buzz, none that I know of,” Rose replied. Sniffing the air, she watched a passing pony, who glanced sideways at them as he entered the library. “You should get going,” she urged.  “Thank you, Rose,” Phillip replied.  “Just find the fuckers,” Rose grunted, already turning away. “Ocellus, come on. We’re going home.”  Ocellus looked like she was going to protest, then sighed. “Okay, mom. Good luck, detectives.” She waved at Phil and Daring as she followed Rose around the building and out of sight.  “Well,” Daring said. “To Marigold Street.”  “Aces,” Phillip nodded, allowing Daring to pick him up beneath the forelegs and carry him up into the air. As they passed over the library, Phillip looked down and spotted the two disguised changelings heading down the sidewalk, their heads down and eyes darting back and forth, Ocellus pressed up close against her mother.  A gravestone flashed before his eyes, a name carved into the cold granite: “Mavri.” His stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with being carried dozens of feet in the air.  “Faster,” Phillip urged Daring, who nodded grimly and put on speed.  Doctor Asclepius’ clinic was a wide, flat-roofed white cottage sitting at the end of the narrow street, mere yards away from a chain-link fence that marked the edge of the Everfree Forest. A few cars were parked in the lot next to the building, the entryway marked with a rod and serpent sign.  Daring and Phillip landed at the top of the ramp that led up to the front door and headed inside, entering a lobby the size of a comfortable living room, the perimeter lined with cushioned chairs and a table with neatly organized magazines stacked on the table. Three of the chairs were occupied with waiting ponies. Soft classical music played over a speaker mounted on the walls that were marked with posters for food pyramids, vaccines, and warning about the dangers of drug and alcohol abuse.  The pair approached the front desk, where a pale yellow unicorn sat studying a framed photograph. The mare quickly put it down as they approached, allowing the detectives a glimpse of a stallion in an army uniform; her brother, Phillip guessed, noting the similar coat colors and the lack of a wedding ring on her horn. “We need to speak to Doctor Asclepius,” Daring reported.  “The doctor is busy with a patient right now,” the purple-maned unicorn receptionist replied with a placid smile. The tag on her white blouse declared that her name was Golden Highlight. “I’ll let you know when he gets out. Please take a seat.”  Phillip and Daring took chairs in the corner, next to a window that opened to the street outside. Phillip stared at the window, noting a familiar cottage across the street. Fluttershy’s house and office, he nodded, watching a dark blue van pass by with a frown.  “You think Blue Rose is gonna stay?” Daring asked. “I mean, if I were her, I’d be running away, too. Especially if I had a kid.”  “It may be the smart thing to do,” Phillip conceded, still watching the streets.  A door leading into the interior of the building opened and two figures stepped through. One was a tall white unicorn stallion with a close blonde beard, his cutie mark a golden rod and snake like that on the sign outside. The other was a familiar golden-white unicorn with a long yellow and black mane, a jar of honey and a loaf of bread on her flanks.  “Bu--Sugar?” Daring asked, rising. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”  “I’ve been running errands all morning,” “Sugar Loaf” replied, head tilted in confusion. “What’s happened?”  “Doctor, we need to speak to you two,” Phillip urged.  Doctor Asclepius raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, but nodded. “I see. Cinnamon, Coffee, Aspen, are you three all right with waiting a little longer?”  “Hey, if they need to talk to you, that’s more important than my hoof,” an orange-brown mare shrugged. The other two patients nodded.  “Come,” the doctor said, beckoning them inside.  The four proceeded down a hallway into a white windowless examination room. Once the door was closed and secured, the doctor and the baker nodded to one another.  Both were briefly enveloped with green flames, then two changelings stood before Phil and Daring. Buzz was colored honey yellow, with a blue fin and semi-transparent white wings. Asclepius had aqua blue chitin and a blonde fin, his wings yellow-green.  “I assume you’re here about the murder of the changeling,” he stated, removing his glasses.  “Yes,” Phillip nodded. “Her name was Sweet Tart.”  Asclepius sighed. “She was one of my patients, yes,” he nodded.  “Was Shutter Speed a patient, too?” Daring asked.  “Is he dead, too?” Asclepius asked.  “Oh, Holy Mother,” Buzz breathed. “Is there a lynch mob?”  “That’s what we think,” Phillip admitted. “And it looks like your office is the common link.”  Asclepius frowned and nodded. “I see. I shall give you copies of my records, help you narrow down any suspects.”  “Do you have any military patients?” Phillip asked. “Somepony about four foot three with a twisted left hind leg?”  Asclepius frowned in thought for a bit, then shook his head. “No, that doesn’t ring a bell, I’m afraid.”  “We’re going to have to speak to you and your receptionist,” Phillip stated.  “Certainly,” Asclepius agreed.  “Buzz, you’re going to have to find the other changelings in town,” Daring said. “Warn them that they’re in trouble, get them to stick together. If they see anything suspicious, they need to tell us ASAP. We’ve already warned Blue Rose and her kid.”  “There aren’t many other changelings in Ponyville besides us, but I’ll try to find them,” Buzz nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes open, ask around.”  “Thanks,” Daring said.  The two changelings resumed their disguises as they exited the room and headed back down the hallway. “Gold will give you the list of my patients,” the doctor declared as they reached the lobby door. “I’ll be glad to help however I can, but I don’t speak about my patients outside of work--”  Tires screeched outside. The window shattered, the patients screamed in shock. Something landed on the carpeted floor with a heavy thumping. Something long and black, with a fuse on the end that hissed angrily as sparks shot out of it.  “BOMB!”  Phillip jumped back and tackled the doctor, his glasses flying off as he fell to the floor. Phil yanked his vest up over his head and clamped his hooves to his ears, catching a glimpse of Daring jumping towards the other patients, shoving the brown mare to the floor.  Green flame flashed and the last thing Phillip saw was a yellow dragon diving on top of the bomb, curling their scales around the explosive.