//------------------------------// // Case Sixteen, Chapter Four: Rest and Regain // Story: Ponyville Noire: Misty Streets of Equestria // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// Daring landed before the two-story blue cottage and rapped at the door. “Sirba!” she called.  She heard movement inside and the door opened, revealing a perplexed zebra mare, her long snowy hair decorated with multicolored beads. “There’s no need to break down my door,” Sirba said. “There’s trouble on your face, but what for?”  “Where’s Muziqaa?” Daring asked.  She was answered by a black and white cannonball rocketing out the door and slamming into her chest hard enough to knock her back and drive the wind from her lungs. “Hi, Aunt Daring!” Muziqaa chirped, beaming up at her from his hug. “Wanna see my new trick? It's for the show we're doing later this afternoon at the Ponyville Theater!”  “Not now, kid,” Daring said, gently pulling the colt off her and setting him back down on the ground. “I just needed to drop by and speak to your mom real quick.” Muziqaa stared up at her with wide eyes. “Is…” He swallowed, his tail trembling so hard that the beads woven into the strands produced a low rattling. “Is it back?” he whispered.  “No, no,” Daring replied, patting Muziqaa on the head. “That thing is dead, okay? This is something different.”  “Okay,” Muziqaa nodded, but still looked scared.  “You both go to Doctor Asclepius?” Daring asked. Both zebras nodded. “Well…” Daring sighed. “I’m gonna be straight with you. He’s a changeling.”  Muziqaa gasped. “Really?”  “Really,” Daring nodded. “But he’s not a bad--”  “Cool!” Muziqaa chirped, brightening.  Sirba tilted her head to the side. “This is assuredly a surprise,” she mused. “But is this why you come to advise?”  “No,” Daring said. She swallowed and glanced down at Muziqaa again.  Faust help me, he’s eight years old. No kid deserves this, she thought.  He has to know anyway, the logical part of her brain coldly replied.   “Um...there are some killers out there,” she said. “They’re hunting Asclepius’ clients because they think they’re all changelings.”  Sirba gasped and instinctively pulled her son towards her. “What must we do?” she asked.  “Keep an eye out for these ponies,” Daring said, pulling the photos of the three suspects and holding them up for examination. “And if you see or hear anything suspicious, let us know immediately. Might be a good idea to get that Neighringer out again.”  Sirba nodded, her face grim. “We will be careful and aware, and may the spirits watch us with care. There is no time to waste, you must catch them posthaste!”  “We will,” Daring promised, turning away and spreading her wings to lift off. “I need to go warn his other patients.”  “Wait, Aunt Daring!”  Daring paused in the midst of her takeoff and turned back just in time to receive another, slightly softer black and white cannonball to the chest. “Oof!” she grunted, stumbling slightly and giving Muziqaa a scowl. “What was that for?”  “I thought you needed a hug,” Muziqaa replied, looking up at her with concern in his green irides.  Daring stared at him for a moment, then sighed and put an arm around the colt, hugging him to her chest and placing her chin on top of his head. “Thanks, kid,” she sighed, closing her eyes. She heard hoofsteps approach and then Sirba was pressing her forehead against hers, humming quietly and gently shaking her head so that the beads in her mane produced a low rattling like gentle rain on the rooftop. Peace settled over Daring like a blanket, and the stress that had been writhing in her chest settled for a second that she wished she could pocket and carry with her.  With a heavy reluctance, Daring opened her eyes and gently pried Muziqaa off her and set him down on the ground. “I gotta go,” she said, turning and flying away. As she soared to the next address, she glanced back to see the zebras waving goodbye at her. Beneath the masks of their smiles, she saw the worry etched into their expressions.  She sucked in a breath through her teeth and pushed herself faster.  Only red slivers of the sun were showing above the horizon by the time Daring finally arrived home at 221 Honeybee Bakery Street. She landed on the doorstep with a low groan of exhaustion, her wings sagging in fatigue. Extracting her key from her vest, she unlocked the front door. The purple wards flared briefly as she opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door and latching it behind her as she tossed her pith helmet and holster onto the hanger.  The sound of music, two voices singing and the droning of a didgeridoo, guided her to the living room. When Daring entered, she saw Phillip was facedown on the sofa. Rain was sitting next to him, massaging his injured leg and side; wound around his limb was a cord holding a strand of Rain’s mane to his leg, and a paste that sweetly smelled of herbs and spices covered his burns. Rain was singing in her native language, a chant that rolled through the air like a gentle stream, running over Daring to wash away some of her exhaustion and stress; Phillip, who had his eyes shut in contentment, occasionally joined in on the refrain. His recitation was a tad clumsy, the pronunciation rough from lack of practice, but the happiness behind it was genuine.  A circle of salt surrounded the pair. Sitting outside it was Bobby, his lips pressed against his wife’s didgeridoo, letting out a constant droning sound to back up the healing song. He smiled and winked at Daring as she entered.  Daring sat down and watched in fascination as the medicine mare worked her magic. Even as she watched, the burns on Phillip’s coat were already fading. The music rolled over her like the notes were actually physically massaging her and a smile spread across her face.  The song ended, the last notes hanging in the air for a few moments before gently disappearing. “There,” Rain said, kissing her son on the back of his head. “That better, ampa?”  “Aces,” Phillip said, stretching. “Thanks, mom.”  “You’re welcome,” Rain smiled, giving his limb a final pat. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to practice.”  “This isn’t a scraped knee or a bruise, but that helps a lot,” Phillip replied, sitting back up.  “What’d you use for the ointment?” Daring asked. “I remember reading about Aborigineigh culture some time ago, but I don’t think we have any native Aushaylian plants up here.”  “I carry some herbs with me as a force of habit,” Rain replied. “Some emu bush leaves mixed with local honey and cloves made do.”  “How did you become a…” Daring paused, struggling to remember the word from the library book that she’d read so many years ago. “Ngangkari?”  “I was born into the tradition; the spirits clearly blessed me with the gift for it,” Rain replied. “My mother taught me the ways of the spirits, just as her father had taught her.” She smiled wistfully as she rubbed out the salt circle with a pick-up tool. The soft snap of dissipating magic tingled across Daring’s wings. “I think grandpa was expecting me to marry a respectable Aborigineigh and give him plenty of grandchildren that he could raise in the Outback, just like the purer days.”  “Instead, you fell in love with a trumpet-playing bogan boxer,” Bobby grinned, squeezing his wife from behind.  Rain giggled and leaned her head against her husband’s chest. “And we produced a wonderful son who grew up to be a hero.”  “I’d say we did pretty well,” Bobby smiled and enthusiastically kissed his wife, who responded with equal passion. Phillip responded with a good-natured groan of faux disgust, rolling his eyes.  “And one day, our son and his wonderful wife give us some beautiful grandfoals that we’ll get to teach everything we know,” Bobby added with a cheeky smirk at the other two ponies.  “Daaad,” Phillip grumbled, his ears turning red.  “Okay, enough sappy stuff,” Daring stated, returning herself to seriousness. She told them what had happened since the bombing.  “Smart, watching Watershed,” Phillip nodded, looking over the borrowed files on their three suspects that Daring had borrowed. “Worries me what they’re up to now.”  “If they tried to blow up a doctor’s office, there’s no telling what they’ll do next,” Rain murmured with a slight shiver.  “I’ve already warned all of the other patients,” Daring replied. Phillip’s jaw clenched perceptibly and he glanced over at a framed photograph on the wall, one of the few pictures decorating the room. The picture had been taken that spring, in the backyard of Suunkii’s home. Clustered in the photograph was Twilight, Spike atop her shoulders, and Doctor Mortis next to them, beaming at the camera while she held a skull up next to her with her magic.  Behind them was Phillip, Daring on his left, Suunkii and Sirba on his right. Muziqaa was sitting on Phillip’s head, his trilby perched atop his head: the hat was too large for the giggling colt, sliding down over his eyes.  Daring stared at the photo as well and swallowed, her stomach dropping like she’d swallowed a rock. “They’ll be fine, Phil,” she said, trying to convince herself that she believed the words as well. “So, what were you doing all day?”  “Suun sent over some evidence for me to take a second look at,” Phillip nodded at his experiment table, which was littered with bags with paper tags, test tubes, and a microscope with a slide carrying a small smear of dirt loaded into the tray. “Did find one interesting thing. Faint soil samples found in the getaway van. But what puzzles me is that the soil doesn’t come from the Everfree District.”  “Where does it come from?” Daring asked.  Phillip shrugged. “Not sure. Traces of calcium, limestone, goethite, and magnesium...but those could’ve been samples from almost anywhere in the city.” He shook his head, barely stifling a yawn. “I’m bloody stuffed,” he mumbled. “I’ve been working ever since I got home, and feels like I’ve been running around in circles.”  Daring sighed. “So we’re basically stuck waiting,” she grumbled.  “There are officers searching all night long for those monsters,” Rain soothed, wheeling over to Daring and rubbing her shoulders gently. “You warned all of their victims and they know to be careful. You’re both tired and have had a long day. It’d be best if you just got some rest.”  “Can’t fight crime without sleep,” Bobby added with a sage nod.  Daring sighed, trying to ignore how heavy her head felt, how her eyelids kept drooping shut, and how relaxing Rain’s massage was as she rubbed her shoulders and wings. “I appreciate the thought, guys, but I don’t know how I’m going to…”  She blinked and realized that she was stretched across a large red pony’s back, bouncing slightly against him as he climbed up the stairs. She heard Phillip mumble something and Rain respond with a giggle. Daring tried to protest that she wasn’t a baby but somehow couldn’t muster the effort to speak.  When she blinked again, she realized that she was in bed, with a familiar set of forelegs wrapped around her and warm breath brushing against her ear as Phillip quietly snored. She also felt the warmth of a mother’s kiss on her forehead.  She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall asleep with a contented sigh.  When she opened her eyes again, she and Phillip were laying in a grassy plain, the cool grass gently tickling her skin. Above them, twinkling stars danced through the purple sky and dozens of chimes softly rang from the trees around them.  “What troubles you tonight, detectives?”  “Changelings, Your Highness,” Phillip reported, sitting up and facing the Princess of the Night. Luna was laying in the grass a few feet away, regarding them with her gentle blue irides.  “Indeed,” Luna nodded. “We heard about the murders. Tell me, what headway have you made?”  Phillip and Luna were both silent for a moment, regarding one another, then Daring sighed. “We found out who’s responsible for it, but they’re in the wind. And…”  She and Phillip both shuddered, and for a moment, the sky was red and reeked of cordite. The roar of an explosion made the chimes clang discordantly and the echo of a scream shook the air.  “Hush, hush,” Luna soothed them, banishing the sounds and smells with a glimmer of magic. “It’s just a dream.”  Daring took a slow, shaky breath, held it for a moment, then slowly let it out, pushing her fear and stress into the wind. “Yeah, yeah,” she nodded.  “What happened?” Luna asked, her head tilted in concern.  “A...friend of ours. A changeling,” Phillip replied. “There was a bomb. He took the blast for us. He’s alive, but…” He let out a quiet groan and mopped his face.  “Take faith, my friends,” Luna replied. “I am certain that your friend will survive.”  “I’ll find them,” Phillip growled, gritting his teeth as he lowered his hoof. “I’ll find the wankers and make them pay.”  The skies darkened for a moment and distant thunder rumbled as a cold, harsh wind blew in. Luna looked up at the sky, a shadow of confusion crossing her face for a moment.  “‘Tis good that you are focusing your rage into finding the culprits,” she said. “But I worry that you are not allowing yourselves to process your emotions.”  “Luna, we appreciate the concern,” Phillip said. “But we’re…”  Luna raised an eyebrow at him. Phillip paused, glanced at Daring, then sighed. “Bugger it. Okay, we’re not fine,” he admitted, sitting down. “It hurt. Seeing Buzz hurt. Not being able to help him. Being laid up with this fucking leg injury. Knowing that somewhere out there, there are murderers stalking my best mate’s family and I don’t know how to stop them.”  “I’ve always been the point mare,” Daring said. “The one who flew in to get the job done. Sitting back and waiting...it made me antsy, always. Because it felt like...I wasn’t in control. And having to wait for the bad guys to make a move…” She grimaced. “I feel like I’m just waiting for another body to turn up in the alley, and then it’s gonna be too late to do anything for them. What if it’s Buzz? What if it’s Suunkii or Sirba or Muzi?” She sighed and kicked at the dirt, hissing as the cursed brand burned at the flesh of her right hoof. “Damn this thing!” she yelled, glaring at the mark on her flesh.  “Here,” Luna said, lighting up her horn. An indigo glow covered Daring’s hoof and the pain faded away. Daring sighed in relief and nodded.  “Another stallion that I have seen recently once said that you told him that everypony gets scared, even you,” Luna continued with a small smile. “‘Tis easy to allow yourself to fall into self-defeating anger, feeling impotent against the world. I know this well.” “Really?” Daring asked. “Most ponies think you and Celestia are basically gods.”  Luna looked up at the starry sky above them. “My sister and I are over nine hundred years old,” she mused. “We can command the sun and the moon and have the power to level cities if we wish. I walk through the realm of dreams as nopony has before. Yet I know better than anypony that no matter how many ponies nightmares I soothe, no matter how many fears I abate, there are dozens, hundreds more that I cannot reach. More than once, at my worst, I have wondered what is the point of trying.”  She paused and smiled warmly back at them. “Then I remind myself that I can make a difference to who I can help. The world is always much larger than you, my friends, and much darker than you’d like to think. You cannot fight the world, and trying to will only frighten and tire you. Focus instead on what you can affect.”  “Which, for us, is trying to find the bastards who did this,” Daring said. “But again, how? We’ve run through most of our leads and came up with nothing.”  “Perhaps an outside perspective will help,” Luna offered. “Tell me what you know. What of this first victim?”  “Sweet Tart,” Phillip recited. “A baker. They ambushed her last evening and took her somewhere to torture and kill.”  “Flash mentioned earlier that she might have been involved with some ponies who were stalking Signor Dorata,” Luna added. “For what purpose, he is not sure.”  “Oh, yeah, the rich dude,” Daring nodded. “Practically forgot about him.”  “No, these seem to be completely different ponies,” Phillip shook his head. “The ponies she was working with were not the ones who…”  He trailed off, his eyes widening, then he smacked himself on the forehead with a hoof. “Bloody hell, we’ve been complete idiots! Too focused on these wankers to see what was right in front of us!”  Daring blinked in realization. “You’re right, you’re right! We should’ve seen it from the start!”  Luna smiled and nodded. “I am glad to see you inspired.”  The wind picked up, the chimes in the trees singing out loudly. “Our time grows short,” Luna stated, spreading her wings and flying up into the star-streaked dome. “I will see you again, my friends. I wish you good hunting.”  “Princess, wait!” Daring called.  Luna paused and looked down at her. Daring paused, then raised her right hoof, displaying the cursed brand.  “We are still working on it,” Luna replied, landing before Daring and placing a hoof over her withers. “I am sorry, Daring Do. But you must wait a little longer.”  Daring frowned and looked down, a low groan of frustration escaping her throat. “We will find a way to break the spell, Daring,” Luna promised, pressing her forehead against Daring’s for a moment.  Daring just grunted as Phillip approached and hugged her tight, placing his chin atop her head. She nestled against his chest as Luna departed with a flap of wings.  The next morning was a sunny day, a cool wind running in from the northwest. The brown and red leaves in the oak trees that lined Steel Street shuddered in the wind, a few leaves detaching and slowly drifting to the ground.  Red yawned as he turned up the road, studying the expensive chateaus and bungalows along the road, darkened windows staring down imperiously at the intrusive car. “You had a bee in your ass this morning, Flash,” he commented to his passenger.  “I can’t believe that I didn’t think of it earlier!” Flash said, staring at their target as it drew closer. Number 77 was a golden two-story bungalow, the porch decorated with crystalline charms and wind chimes that glistened and danced slowly in the wind and sun, emitting quiet ringing music. A burnished silver Rottaler-Royce Specter was parked in the driveway.  Red pulled up to the curb and parked, the two detectives exiting and crossing the pristine grass to the steps. “You feel underdressed for this?” Red commented, turning up the collar of his coat and glancing back at his car. The dull, weatherbeaten Diplomat stood out against the gilded neighborhood like a coffee stain spilled upon a classical portrait.  “If we hurry, we might be able to get out of here before you get towed,” Flash smirked at his partner, pulling a folder out of his suit.  The two pegasi marched up to the door and rapped sharply. After a few moments, the door opened. A clay-red female griffon wearing a charcoal gray suit stuck her head out the door. Flash and Red’s eyes immediately went to the .45 automatic in her shoulder holster.  “Can I help you gentleponies?” she asked, her dark blue eyes studying the two. “Detectives Herring and Sentry,” Red replied, flashing his badge for her inspection. “We need to speak to Mister Dorata.”  The bodyguard looked them both over for a moment, then nodded and stepped inside. “Signor Dorata is inside. One moment, gentleponies.”  The griffon stepped outside, pulling a wand that glowed with a faint blue aura out of one pocket and sweeping it over Red. The wand turned red and let out a loud chirp as it passed over his chest.  “That’s just my sidearm,” Red replied, opening his jacket to reveal the Filly M1912. Flash did likewise with his coat to reveal his weapon. “No, it’s not because we’re happy to see you,” Red added with a small smirk.  The griffon’s beak twitched as she suppressed a smile, then proceeded with her examination. The only anomalies she found were the detectives’ sidearms. “Good,” she nodded, tucking the security wand away. “Come, I will show you to Signor Dorata.”  The bodyguard led them into the house, proceeding through a hallway lined with paintings of snowy landscapes and into a great sitting room. Chairs with gold and white cushions surrounded a gilded coffee table.  Alba Dorata was sitting in one chair, lifting a cup of tea and saucer up to his lips with his magic. Sitting across from him on a large couch was his guest, leaning back in the cushions with a salve-covered bandage wrapped around his left hind leg.  “G’day, mates,” Phillip nodded to Red and Flash as they entered. “See you had the same idea I did.”  “Grazie, Ryder,” Alba nodded to the bodyguard, who nodded and took up position at the door. “Please, sit, detectives. What was this idea you were mentioning?”  “We believe that the ponies who were stalking you were working with a changeling,” Flash advised as he and Red sat down next to Phillip. “We think that they were planning on abducting you and having the changeling impersonate you.”  “By the ancestors,” Dorata breathed, reaching beneath his shirt and pulling out a small crystal charm, which he kissed. “‘Tis good I came to you, then!”  “You needn’t worry,” Red commented. “The changeling they were going to use is dead. That, and you’ve got her around.” He nodded to Ryder, whose beak twitched upward briefly.  “Oh, well...that’s good news, I suppose,” Alba nodded, taking another sip of the strong-smelling tea within his cup before delicately setting the cup and saucer back onto the table.  “You said you haven’t seen them since yesterday?” Phillip pressed.  “No,” Alba shook his head. “I was able to hire Ryder and her colleagues yesterday from a security agency my assistant suggested.”  Red shot Ryder a look. “That wouldn’t have happened to be Cerberus, would it?” he asked with a growl around his edges.  Ryder rolled her eyes. “Please. Cerberus’ mercs were marginally better than a bunch of trained monkeys. My team and I are from Steel Security.”  “Never heard of you,” Red commented.  “We’re more popular up north, in the Crystal Empire,” Ryder explained. “After Cerberus was finally dismantled earlier this summer, we’ve started to make more ground down south; we have an office nearby now, that’s where Signor Dorata contracted us from.” She fished a business card out of her suit and handed it to Red. “It’s all legitimate. You can check us all out.”  “We will,” Red replied, studying the card with the embossed emblem of a steel padlock and a blue crystalline key. “And who are your colleagues?”  “Chaser will be taking over at three o’clock,” Ryder said. “Tailwind has the night shift. They’re currently sleeping upstairs if you want to talk to them.”  “Thank you,” Phillip nodded, turning back to Alba. “So, walk me through your route to work.”  “I start here and drive straight to North Star via Ore Avenue…” Alba outlined his daily travel routine, outlining his travel to work at eight in the morning, his penchant for walking to a nearby market at noon to find lunch before returning to North Star Investments, then coming back home by five o’clock. “I do not normally entertain visitors, unfortunately,” he commented in response to a question. “I have never had much interest in dating.”  “Hmm,” Phillip mused. “Those are all well-traveled routes. Area around that market is public. They likely wouldn’t try there.”  “I agree,” Flash nodded.  Alba swallowed, the cup of tea rattling slightly in its dish as his magical grip upon it trembled. “Then I am relatively safe, si?”  A flash of golden light and he was in the room, smiling that damned fixed smile, black eyes fixing on him like holes in the world. The blade snapped out from beneath his sleeve with a click as the jaw locked open impossibly wide, tar bubbling up to his lips… “We...have to consider every possibility,” Phillip said, taking a slow breath, holding it for a moment, then exhaling slowly, brushing away the specter like sand before the wind. “Recommend you pack lunch for the time being instead of the market.”  “Agreed,” Ryder declared.  “Very well,” Alba nodded. “Shall I show you how my house is secured?”  “Ripper,” Phillip said, getting up and stretching. He took a step and just barely managed to hide a wince as a stab of pain ran up his wounded leg. Flash rose as well, giving Phillip a brief look. Phillip raised his hoof briefly and gave a small smile that he hoped didn’t look like a grimace.  “Most of these measures I had already installed when I first moved to Ponyville early this year,” Alba said, gesturing first to the windows. “Here: these windows are double-laminated bulletproof glass and the locks cannot be magically picked from outside.”  “That must’ve cost a lot,” Red commented.  “You have no idea,” Alba admitted. “Come, let us see the rest of the house.”  Alba’s bungalow proved to be well-protected. Every window was reinforced and could not be picked from the outside. All of the locks were charmed against picking, and every door and window was connected to a top-notch alarm system; if a window was smashed or a keycode entered into a panel in the sitting room within thirty seconds of the front door being opened, the shrill alarm would alert the neighborhood and a silent message would be sent to the police precinct.  “I already had him change the code for this,” Ryder reported, nodding to the numbered keys on the wall. “Only the four of us know it.” She cocked an eyebrow at Red. “No, I’m not going to tell you.”  “Shucks,” Red said with pretend disappointment.  “Do you wish to meet the other two bodyguards?” Alba asked.  “Why not?” Red asked.  They proceeded upstairs and met the other two bodyguards in the guest room: Chaser, a gray griffon with red-tipped plumage, was currently flipping through a magazine while disassembling and reassembling her sidearm, while the green and white Tailwind was awoken from a nap to be interviewed.  “Mister Dorata hired us yesterday morning, right after he came to you, I guess,” Chaser shrugged, still assembling her Steel and Easton without looking at it. “He briefed us on everything, so we’ve been keeping an eye out in particular for a green unicorn and a yellow earth pony. Haven’t seen anypony suspicious so far, though.”  “Will say this, though,” Tailwind said through a yawn. “Easiest job I’ve been on in ages.”  “Don’t slack off, Tail,” Ryder scolded her partner.  “I’m not on the clock, boss,” Tail replied. “Can I get back to sleep now?”  “Fine,” Flash said, scribbling down some notes in a notepad. “Sorry to interrupt, sir.”  “Nah, you’re just doing your job,” Tail murmured, laying back down on the large bed and closing his eyes.  “Anything else?” Alba asked as they headed back downstairs.  “Basement,” Phillip replied.  Alba blinked. “I...very well, then.”  He showed them down a set of stairs to a large, unfurnished basement. The thin, windowless walls that shaped the rooms were painted plain white, and the flagstone floor was bare. The lights were a cold white, illuminating the only occupants of the basement: file cabinets and boxes of information, old clothes, and furniture, and decorations that had been packed away.   “I don’t see why you wanted to see the basement,” Alba commented, watching as Phillip trotted around, moving in and out of the three rooms, his eyes darting into every corner.  Phillip tapped the stone floor with a frown, staring at the slate square as if he could see right through to the dirt beneath, then nodded. “Ripper. I’ve seen enough,” he declared, heading back upstairs.  “Er...cosa? What did you see?” Alba asked, watching him go back with a slack jaw.  “Trust us, he’s a professional,” Red commented dryly, following Phillip upstairs.  “We’ll find the ponies who are stalking you, sir,” Flash assured a baffled Alba Dorata as they returned to the front hallway. “Let us know if anything unusual happens.”  “Don’t worry, detectives: we won’t let anything happen to him,” Ryder stated heavily, giving them a nod as they exited.  The three stallions headed down the front yard to the car, which was still where it was parked. “Where’s Daring?” Flash asked Phillip.  “Keeping an eye on Watershed,” Phillip replied. “Can you give me a lift back to the precinct? Need to check a theory.”  “Yeah, sure,” Red replied.  “What are you thinking?” Flash asked.  “I might know how to find these drongos,” Phillip replied with a smirk as he crawled into the backseat of the Diplomat.  Daring adjusted her glasses as she strolled across the street, her head bowed low so that the sunhat covered her face, shielding her from the sun. A car honked at her irately, prompting her to pick up the pace as she reached the sidewalk.  There was her target; a red-brown unicorn mare, her blonde mane spilling out beneath her fedora as she leaned against the bus stop kiosk, playing with a book of matches floating in a red aura.  “Matchstick,” Daring greeted the mare as she approached.  “Daring,” the arson detective nodded, striking a match and watching the flame sputter in the air. “Nice dress.”  Daring frowned and pulled at the long dress that covered her flanks. “Dressed up just for a special occasion like this one,” she deadpanned. “So you’ve been following Watershed?” “Since this morning,” Matchstick replied, nodding to the building across the street, a brick hardware store with a sign reading “Acme Hardware” in gold lettering over the door. “Went in there about half an hour ago; I followed him in and looked around, but I think he might’ve seen me, so I decided to wait outside.”  She reached into the saddlebag of the dark red bicycle next to her, plucked out a cigarette, and placed it in her mouth, lighting it with the match. “You and Phil doing okay?” she asked through a cloud of heavy smoke.  “We’re fine,” Daring coughed, turning away from the bellicose odor assaulting her nostrils. The mostly-healed burns along her legs and wings protested faintly for a moment, but she forced the memory of the pain down.  “Miracle you got out of there in one piece,” Matchstick continued, puffing on the fag. “That was a hell of a bomb design. If that changeling hadn’t taken the blast, then--” She paused and looked over to see Daring scowling at her. “Not helping, right?” she asked.  “Not really,” Daring growled.  “Sorry,” Matchstick nodded, taking out the fag and puffing out some smoke. “But you’re not dead and you’ll get the bastards. Bright side, right?”  Daring just grunted.  “Heads up,” Matchstick said, taking another uninterested drag on the cigarette.  Daring pretended to be immersed in the bus schedule posted on the side of the small cabin, but out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the familiar turquoise pony exited the hardware store through the sliding glass doors, mopping his mane and spitting some nuts out of his mouth as he balanced a pair of saddlebags over his shoulders.  He made his way over to a blue bicycle chained to a nearby lamppost and started strapping the saddlebags to the back of the frame. As he was working, one of the bags toppled over, spilling its contents out onto the asphalt: cans of white spray paint. Watershed cursed and quickly gathered up the cans, stuffing them back into the bag and swinging up onto the bike.  “Wonder what those are for?” Matchstick mused, climbing onto her bike.  “Just stay on him,” Daring replied, turning and walking away. As soon as she rounded the corner into the alley, she pulled the damned dress off, stuffing it and the rest of her costume into the enchanted bag. Placing the pith helmet upon her head, she took to the skies. Her blue target beneath stood out against the asphalt as he headed west, pedaling hard up the road.  “I’ve got you now,” she growled, gliding along the zephyrs over her prey.  Watershed biked down the street at a steady pace, gliding through intersections and around corners. Matchstick followed at a safe distance, pausing behind corners and taking alleys to stay out of sight as much as possible. Daring glided over his head, easily carried on the warmer winds.  Watershed turned right at a four-way, then another right past a bookstore two blocks down to head south. Daring flew northwards, the back of her neck prickling. He’s trying to shake a tail. Hope Matchstick is smart enough to know that. She alighted on a cloud and pulled out the enchanted bag, tugging a red jacket and a ball cap out of the seemingly infinite depth. She tugged this over her shirt and replaced her pith helmet with the cap before taking off to return to her quarry.  Suddenly, a fleet of weather ponies flew in her path, escorting a front of thick, gray rain clouds that blocked her path. “Oh, for fuck’s--!” Daring snarled, ducking beneath the mass of clouds and zipping back south to the bookstore.  Now where the hell did he--? A glimmer of yellow and red beneath caught her attention. Matchstick was standing at the northeast corner of the block north of the bookstore, straddling her bike as her head swiveled back and forth.  “Shit!” Daring snarled out loud, swooping down to face her. “Where’d he go?” she snapped.  “Saw him heading down this street and when I turned the corner, he was gone!” Matchstick replied, her teeth gritted.  Daring growled and shot up into the air again, circling the blocks, her eyes darting around for any blue earth ponies on a bicycle. But after ten passes, she was forced to concede that Watershed was gone.  “Fuck! Bastard!” Daring roared, kicking a nearby cloud into wisps in frustration. Huffing and snarling, she descended back to a grumbling Matchstick.