//------------------------------// // Case Sixteen, Chapter Seven: Makings of a Hero // Story: Ponyville Noire: Misty Streets of Equestria // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// “Their names are Dice Roll and Jimmy Scout,” Red stated some hours later, nodding over the intake papers in his office. “Turns out they’d been digging that tunnel since about last winter, which is when they got in touch with Sweet Tart and the Scorcher who was living down there. Their plan was to sneak in, abduct Alba, then have the Scorcher torture his financial info out of him while Tart imitated him to keep the heat off. Apparently, they pulled off similar scams in Manehattan and Trottingham.” He snorted. “You know, they may be idiots, but it’s a pretty bold plan.”  “Yeah, like something out of a dimestore novel,” Daring said dryly.  Red chuckled. “Couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Prowl and Phil both trying to hold Bee back. Those two practically begged us to take them in!”  Daring smiled briefly, then her face fell as she looked up towards the corner of the roof, as if she could peer through the ceiling and into the infirmary above them. Above them, she knew, Phillip and Flash were resting on cots, oxygen masks over their faces and salves being rubbed into their chests to treat their soot-filled lungs. Right now, Twilight would be squeezing Flash’s hoof and Phillip would be rubbing his left hind leg, which was raised on a set of folded blankets with a large ice bag on it.  “Hey,” Red said, reading her thoughts. “They’re gonna be okay.”  Daring took a breath and nodded, turning her gaze out the window, searching in vain for something in the gray afternoon sky to occupy her thoughts. “Any word on Buzz?” she asked.  Red shuffled through the chaotic mess of notes on his desk, then snatched a post-it with a scrawl on it, left behind by another detective. “Ah, yeah,” he nodded. “Message from the hospital: he woke up and Doc A says he’s looking to be okay.”  Daring sighed. “Good,” she nodded, feeling a small weight lift from her shoulders.  The door opened and a familiar redheaded mare poked her head in. “Yo, Red, Daring,” Detective Matchstick announced as she entered. “Got some good news for you.”  “After last time, nearly anything would be good news from you,” Daring coldly replied.  “Fuck you, too,” Matchstick snapped at her. “But anyway, I did some more research on our friend Watershed, talked to neighbors, hardware store, colleagues. Found out that he was the one who purchased those bags of charcoal and the ice packs, and he rented out a storage shed, so I got a warrant rushed through and took a look inside.”  She held up a folder in her magic and tossed it onto the desk, the photographs within spilling out and adding to the jumble of paperwork. The images depicted a storage shed the size of a living room, the front open to reveal its contents: photographs of citizens tacked up on small bulletin boards, outside their homes, their workplaces, walking down the street. Lists of addresses and notes on routines. Boxes of ammunition, rifles, shotguns, and hoofguns set on a table. Lengths of black pipe, wound fuses, and a locked box full of black powder. Magic runes burned into the walls that Daring recognized as soundproofing wards.  And the ominous, dark stains on the concrete floor, most of them centered around a rickety wooden chair with belts looped around the arms and legs. Daring shuddered as she checked the next picture: a table with knives, pliers, hammers, and worse, all of them caked in blood.  “Yup, think we found the murder site,” Matchstick confirmed with a nod. “Suun and Sparkle are checking over evidence from the place now.”  “No sign of Watershed, Blasting Cap, or Golden Highlight?” Red asked.  “No such luck,” Matchstick shrugged.  “There’s gotta be something about where--” Daring froze as her eyes centered on a closeup of a billboard. One blueprint was tacked up on the wall, red pen marking entrances and exits of the large building.  The label read Ponyville Theater. “Muziqaa,” Daring gasped and yanked the window open, diving out into the open air just as the first raindrops started to fall.  The lights around the Ponyville Theater’s display were dimmed, raindrops dripping like tears from the tragedy and comedy masks over the door. A poster in the doorway displayed a group photo of the Ifa-Aduu Zebra Dance Troupe, all ten zebras dressed in bright sunny colors and forming a pyramid shape. Daring recognized Sirba standing on her hind legs at the top of the pyramid, with Muziqaa performing a one-hoof hoofstand on her head, all of them beaming at the visitors.  The blueprint had marked the back entrance with an arrow, so she flew around to the back. The wide alley led up to a ramp and a garage door for delivering large props. A blue van was backed up to the door, the rear doors wide open and the driver’s side window smashed. The back door hung open, the smashed doorknob lying on the ground.  They’re already here, Daring thought, swooping down and shouldering the back door open, entering a tiled hallway.  “Muziqaa! Sirba!” she called.  “Aunt Daring!” a shrill voice shrieked from the left.  Daring sprinted forward and around the corner, spotting an open door, but before she could reach it, she heard a mare’s voice shouting: “You come in here, Daring, and this kid gets his head blown off!”  Daring skidded to a halt and pressed her back against the wall next to the door, forcing her breathing to steady. Sliding her hoof into the .38’s hoofstrap, Daring took out her hoof mirror and carefully tilted it to see inside.  The room was some kind of practice room, with some raised steps backed up against the wall and some spare instruments set aside in the corner.  The zebras were gathered in the back corner, all huddled together in fear. Watershed was keeping them covered with a lever-action carbine.  Golden Highlight was facing the door, glaring towards the entrance through her tangled purple mane, green eyes blazing with hate. Her right wrist was covered with a cast; with it, she covered the door with a large semiautomatic pistol, its oversized barrel quivering as she struggled to hold it. Her other hoof held a butterfly knife to Muziqaa’s throat. The little colt was whimpering and sniffling, tears running from his emerald irides as he trembled like a leaf. Sirba was laying nearby, blood running from her broken nostrils and staining her long mane; only the slow rise and fall of her chest assured Daring that she was still alive.  “Here’s what’s going to happen, Do,” Watershed called, keeping his weapon level on the other dancers, chewed-up nuts flying from his mouth as he spoke. “We’re going to walk out of here with these two. And you’re going to let us.”  From far overhead, thunder rumbled, the crackling mixing with the pattering of rain against the theater’s domed roof. Muziqaa let out a little crackling sob.  And Daring felt herself go cold. Her heart, which had a moment ago been pounding in her chest next to where her Awely-Awely totem rested beneath her shirt, slowed. Another rumble of thunder came from overhead and she felt the sound rolling through her gut.  “No,” she said, reaching into another pocket.  “What?” Watershed called back.  “I said no,” Daring replied, and threw.  The smoke bomb smacked Highlight in the face and detonated with a flash of light, smoke billowing through the room as she screamed, dropping her knife. Muziqaa dived out of the way and ran over to his mother, desperately shaking her.  With a sharp flap of her wings, Daring rounded the corner, snapping her left wrist out as she snapped her iron sights to her target and squeezed the trigger lever with her right hoof. The crack of the .38 round firing muffled the whistling of her boomerang, and both her shots struck home; Golden Highlight shrieked as the round drilled through her broken hoof in a shower of blood and Watershed cried out in blind shock as his arm was snapped by a heavy blow. Both guns clattered to the tile floor as Daring slammed into the yellow mare, sending them both sliding across the floor.  Pinning the mare beneath her, Daring glared down at her foe for a moment, relishing the look of terror in her tear-filled eyes as she squinted up at her, then stamped down with her right hind leg. A great crack sounded through the room, mixed with a muffled howl of agony. Blood and teeth flew.  Coughing on the smoke and blinking away tears from his stinging eyes, Watershed turned around and froze like a rabbit that had just spotted a hungry wolf, his jaw dropping open to allow the nuts in his mouth to spill out onto the floor. Daring was glaring at him, her face shadowed by the brim of her helmet. She raised one hoof and caught the boomerang as it spun back towards her. Beneath her, Golden Highlight writhed in agony, trying to scream through a broken jaw.  “Run,” Daring growled.  Yelping, crying, stumbling on his broken leg, Watershed fled out the door, the tears that ran from his face now a mixture of pain and fear. He rounded the corner, spotted the broken door, and flung himself outside into the rain. If he could make it to the van-- A gust of wind slammed into him, an iron grip seized his left hind leg, and the ground was pulled away from his hooves. Watershed screamed, flailing helplessly as he was tugged high into the air, the buildings beneath turning into small squares as the rain and wind pelted him.  He twisted and looked up to behold a golden pegasus holding him up by his hind leg. Her rose-colored irides had darkened to a bloody crimson, glowing with hate. Lightning flashed across the gray clouds behind her, so close that it made the hairs on his coat stood up, eliciting a cry of terror.  “Where’s Blasting Cap?” Daring Do snarled.  “Y-you gotta understand!” Watershed babbled, his tears running into his mane. “He’s crazy! He...he told me that he w-was just g-gonna kill changelings, b-b-but when he got that u-unicorn, I-I-I p-put him out of--of his misery and B-Blasting Cap told m-me that if I-I-I-I t-talked, he would--”  “I don’t give a fuck!” Daring snapped, shaking him. “Where is he?!”  “I don’t know! I don’t know!” Watershed wailed through his sobs. “He just said that he was going to get a couple others while we dealt with those two!”  “Shit,” Daring snapped and dove back down to the ground. Watershed shrieked like a little filly as he fell alongside her; she pulled up at the last moment, then dropped him the last couple of feet onto the concrete ramp. He landed on his head with a grunt and laid still, groaning.  “Bastard,” Daring spat, dragging him back inside. She returned to the rehearsal room to find Sirba hugging her son, gently stroking his mane as he trembled while a female zebra held a hoofkerchief up to her broken nose. One of the other dancers was covering Golden Highlight with the carbine; the mare was silently glaring her hatred at them all, though she failed to suppress a shiver when she saw Daring enter.  “Thank you, Aunt Daring!” Muziqaa cried, hurrying over to hug her, ignoring her damp coat and shirt.  “Everypony all right?” Daring asked, dropping the unconscious Watershed next to his partner so she could stroke the little colt’s mane.  “We are fine, all thanks to you,” Sirba replied nasally, giving her a pained but relieved smile. “Is there anything that you need us to do?” “Has anyone called the police?” Daring asked.  “I have,” another zebra nodded from the corner, holding up a phone. “They said that there were already officers on the way.”  “Good. Tell them I’ve got Watershed and Highlight here, but Blasting Cap is missing,” Daring nodded, gently ushering Muziqaa back to his mother. She turned to face her two captives, aiming her pistol at Golden while pinning Watershed down. She nodded to the dancer holding the carbine in his trembling hooves, who lowered the weapon with a nod of relief but did not let go of it.  Watershed moaned feebly beneath Daring. She pushed down a little harder on his back, keeping her weapon steady on the seething Highlight. “Don’t suppose you’d know where Blasting Cap is,” she snarled to the other mare. Highlight spat out a wad of blood and phlegm in reply, the hot liquid striking Daring in the cheek and slowly dripping down her face. Daring scowled at her, fighting down the urge to give her a solid kick in the ribs as concern writhed in her gut.  “And you let her go?” Phillip grunted through his oxygen mask, glaring at Red from the infirmary cot he was lying on.  “You seen how fast she flies?” Red protested. “Besides, I already figured out where she was going: Ponyville Theater. Some officers are already on their way.”  “Good,” Phillip sighed, idly rubbing a hoof at his chest, which was covered with a pale green jelly that was ice cold to the touch and smelled faintly of petrol and onions (something to speed up the healing of his lungs, the nurses had assured him).   The phone in the infirmary rang and one of the nurses bustled over to answer it. “Hey, Detective Herring!” she called. “It’s dispatch.”  “Yeah, coming,” Herring said, trotting over and taking the phone. He listened for a second, then grimaced. “Shit.”  “What’s wrong?” Flash asked from the cot opposite Phillip, his chest also covered with a pale green jelly and an oxygen mask over his face.   “Daring’s at the theater,” Red reported. “Everypony’s okay, but she’s only got Watershed and Highlight. Blasting Cap is out there somewhere.”  “Bugger,” Phillip growled, yanking his oxygen mask off and climbing off the cot.  “Where are you going?” the nurse protested.  “To try to find this wanker before he hurts somepony else,” Phillip grunted, headed outside.  Flash pulled off his oxygen mask, an idea churning in his eyes. “Is she still on the line?” he asked Red.  “Yeah,” Red nodded.  “Ask her what vehicle they took there,” Flash said.  Red held the phone back up to his ear. “Dispatch? Ask them what vehicle they came in.”  There were a few moments of silence, then Red said, “A blue van.”  Flash grinned and hopped out of the cot to follow Phillip outside, with Red right on his tail. “Oh, sure, just ignore all my advice!” the nurse commented, flinging her hooves up into the air.  “I think I have an idea,” Flash said as the trio descended downstairs. “Daring said that she saw Watershed buying white spray paint from that hardware store, right?”  “You’re right, good plan, anklebiter,” Phillip nodded as they headed for the door labeled Dispatch.  Twilight exited from the door and spotted them, her eyes narrowing in exasperation. “Are you serious?” she protested. “You should be resting! There’s no telling what all that smoke did to your lungs!”  “We’re fine,” Phillip grunted, trying to ignore how it felt like nails were scratching at the inside of his chest and throat every time he spoke. “We need to find Blasting Cap.”  Flash quickly filled Twilight in. “So you think that he might be in Sweet Tart’s stolen truck, which will be painted white?” Twilight mused.  “And its left headlight will be cracked,” Flash added.  Twilight grinned. “I can work with that,” she said, heading back inside the Dispatch room with the stallions following.  Proceeding past the lines of radio and phone operators, giving only a brief glance at the map of Ponyville with the glowing dots that tracked the department’s cruisers and plainclothes vehicles, Twilight hopped up onto the elevated platform in the back with the multicolored crystals embedded in the walls, each projecting an image from the armada of surveillance crystals spread throughout the city.  “Excuse me, Stellar,” Twilight nodded to the white unicorn with the spiky green and blue hair who was twirling a hoof through her blue beaded necklace. Stellar Lights nodded and stepped aside to allow Twilight to start pressing the crystals on the walls.  “Red, do you have a list of the victims’ addresses?” she asked as she started calling up enlarged images.  “There’s a list that they had in their little hideout,” Red said, pulling a couple of photographs out of his pocket.  “Thank you,” Twilight said, lifting the pictures up to her eyes. “Stellar, can you call up the camera on Sixth and Bluebell?”  Stellar glanced over Twilight’s shoulder at the lists. “You’d get a better view from the one on Carrot.”  “Oh, good idea,” Twilight smiled, switching view. Before long, she and the dispatcher had called up several views from around the homes of Blasting Cap’s targets.  “Now…” Twilight lit up her horn and the images began to rewind, cars and ponies moving backward at a comically fast pace.  “Just use a simple Mind’s Eye spell and combine it with a Seeker…” A three-dimensional image of a Chevroneigh pickup truck, painted white and its left headlight cracked, appeared before Twilight, slowly spinning in place as her eyes panned from one screen to the next.  “There!” she cried, pointing at one frozen screen. A battered Chevroneigh truck, its sloppy, hastily applied white coat uneven with its original yellow color poking out through small holes, its headlight covered in duct tape, was heading up Bluebell avenue.  “That’s…” Red consulted his list. “Oh, hell. That’s where Blue Rose and her kid live.”  “So I’m okay,” Silverstream said over the phone. “That’s definitely the last time I go into the Under, though!” “That’s a relief to hear,” Ocellus sighed, rubbing her forehead as her semitransparent wings buzzed. She, Blue Rose and Sandbar were gathered around the table at their house, the phone resting atop the table. The curtains were drawn, allowing the changelings to resume their natural forms.  “Hey, at least you had an adventure with cousin Flash and Daring Do!” Sandbar said, glowing with excitement.  “Sandbar!” Ocellus scolded.  “It was kinda cool,” Silverstream admitted, then coughed sharply. “Anyway, the docs are just gonna keep me here for a bit to help my wing get back into shape and make sure I didn’t inhale too much smoke.”  “I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Ocellus said.  “Silverstream, I want to thank you for going after these guys for our sake,” Blue Rose said. “It means a lot, having friends who are willing to do that for my daughter. Just don’t ever do something that stupid again.”  “Yes, Miss Rose,” Silverstream replied sheepishly.  “Now,” Rose said with a grin that Ocellus shared. “Tell us about that ‘cute griffon colt’ that brought you to the hospital.”  Silverstream’s blush was audible in the brief pause that followed. “Uh...I gotta go, doctor’s here, bye!” And she hung up with a sharp click, leaving the trio chuckling around the table.   A car growled past the entrance of the block, the tires hissing as they passed over the wet asphalt, and Blue Rose immediately tensed up, her eyes locking onto the covered window. Her wings fluttered for an instant, producing an anxious buzzing noise.  “Mom, relax,” Ocellus soothed, resting a hoof on her foreleg.  “Right...right,” Blue Rose sighed, sitting back down and rubbing her face with both hooves. The room was silent for several long seconds that stretched into awkwardness, the rain underlining the pause.  “Um...do you want me to leave?” Sandbar offered lamely.  “No, you don’t have to,” Ocellus protested.  “I’d rather you didn’t walk home alone, dear,” Blue Rose said, lowering her hooves. “I can call a taxi for you to take.”  “Oh, thanks, Miss Rose,” Sandbar smiled. “I’ll pay you back for this.”  The elder changeling smiled at him. “I just want you to--”  Blue Rose suddenly froze, sniffing the air. Her blue eyes narrowed and turned towards the door. Ocellus sniffed the air as well, her eyes widening as they locked on the door and her wings starting to buzz to produce an agitated humming.  “Ocellus, Sandbar, get in the bedroom,” she ordered, rising and lighting up her horn. A baseball bat leaning against the wall next to the door flew over to her waiting hooves.  “Come on,” Ocellus urged Sandbar, grabbing his foreleg and dragging him down the hallway, her jaw clenched and her eyes burning with fear, but her movements smooth with reflex. They entered her bedroom, a small, plain room with books spread all over the small bed and the desk in the corner, the thin walls decorated with posters from book franchises, the most recent being a splash page featuring a silvery-gray pegasus mare grinning as she snatched a golden goblet decorated with griffons from a snarling unicorn with a black goatee. Ocellus quickly shut the door, clicked the lock shut, then dragged over a chair and shoved it beneath the doorknob.  “Hide beneath the bed and stay quiet,” Ocellus whispered to Sandbar, her tone even as she opened the window with her magic, allowing cold wind and rain to enter. Sandbar shook his head and refocused, quickly wriggling beneath the bed. He laid as still as he could, tugging his tail beneath the mattress; his heart pounded against the thin carpet like a jackhammer, and he covered his mouth with a hoof to muffle his frantic breathing. Turquoise flames flared for a moment next to him, and a moment later, Ocellus was replaced with a hoof locker sitting on the floor beside the desk.  Then he heard a great crashing as the front door was smashed in. Sandbar heard Blue Rose roar and a loud crack as a bat smashed against the wall.  Then there was a crackle of energy and Blue Rose let out a muted scream. The bat clattered to the floor and then a body slumped to the floor. Sandbar gasped and swallowed, nausea suddenly writhing in his stomach.  “Bitch!” he heard a male voice snarl, followed by hoofsteps stomping down the hallway. The doorknob rattled, then the door shook in its frame. Sandbar felt like his heart was going to leap out of his throat. The door shook twice with two great booms like a giant hammer was striking it, then the cheap wood exploded into a shower of slivers, destroyed by a bright purple cannonball. Sandbar had to cover his mouth with both hooves to muffle his scream as a tall black unicorn in a brown trench coat entered, his blue eyes burning with hate as he glared around the room, limping on his left hind leg, which was twisted to the outside at an unnatural angle. His bushy red and yellow beard rustled as he breathed through gritted teeth, head swinging back and forth, water dripping from his form; Sandbar swore he could smell his breath, reeking of halitosis and tobacco.  The stallion’s eyes fell on the open window and he growled as he ran over, climbing atop the hoof locker and sticking his head out the window, looking back and forth.  “Damn!” The bearded unicorn climbed back down onto the floor, but paused and glared around the room once more, his eyes checking every corner twice. Just go, man, Sandbar silently pleaded, still covering his mouth with his hooves. There’s nothing else here, just go. But the stallion’s eyes were focusing on the locker with a suspicious scowl. His horn lit up with a dark purple aura, the magic crackling like flames.  Purple fire lit up beneath the hoof locker, hissing and spitting, their heat striking Sandbar like a slap in the face. He gasped quietly, staring in horror as the fire continued to boil beneath the locker.  A second later, the purple flames were joined by blue and Ocellus, yelping in pain and terror, flew for the window. She only made it a few feet before a purple line of magic snaked through the air and wrapped itself around her neck, dragging her back inside.  “I’m wise to your tricks, freak,” the stallion snarled to the choking filly, turning to drag her along.  Gasping for air, clawing at the magical leash, Ocellus grabbed the leg of the desk and hung on for her life. She turned and her eyes, filled with tears of mixed pain and fear, locked onto Sandbar, pleading for help. Sandbar was frozen, staring back at her, clinging to the thin carpet as if he was afraid that he would be dragged away as well.  “Come on!” the kidnapper snarled, giving Ocellus a sharp tug with his magic. She let out a strangled cry, desperately trying to grab something.  And Sandbar swallowed back his panic and did something that was both very brave and very stupid. He leaped out from beneath the bed, latched onto the kidnapper’s twisted hind leg, and bit down as hard as he could. The stallion roared in anger and struck Sandbar on the side of his head, screaming once more as the colt yanked out a large section of his flesh. “Little bastard!” the intruder bellowed, turning and grabbing Sandbar around the neck with both hooves. Sandbar choked and desperately tried to push the great weight off him, staring up at the rage-filled bearded face and seeing his own reflection in the bloodshot blue eyes… And then a shadow fell over them both. Both stallions looked up and gaped in shock at the great beast before them: an arctic blue lion with great bat-like wings and a scorpion’s stinger for a tail.  A moment later, the bearded stallion was flung out of the room like a rag doll and smashed into the opposite wall, crashing to the floor with a grunt. Huffing and panting, he scrambled to his hooves and fired a wave of purple energy at the manticore, who collapsed to the floor with a grunt of pain. Ocellus shapeshifted back to her normal form, shaking her head as she fought through the pain. Sandbar sat up, coughing and rubbing the vicious red marks on his neck as the intruder sprinted back down the hallway, grunting with every step of his wounded leg. Ocellus pushed herself back up to all fours, grimacing. “Are you okay?!” she cried to Sandbar, voice high with hysteria. Sandbar coughed and tried to rasp out a response, but the words could not pass his burning throat, so he merely nodded in response. Ocellus flew out after the intruder, reentering the main hall just in time to see him seizing the unconscious Blue Rose in his magic.  “Mom!” Ocellus shrieked.  The stallion whipped around, drawing a pistol with a makeshift silencer made of a thick cloth wrapped around the barrel from beneath his coat. Ocellus yelped and dove back into her bedroom as the weapon went off with two muted cracks, bullets smacking into the wall behind her.  “I’ll be back for you, little bitch,” she heard the rough voice snarling. “Your mother will--”  There came a sharp whistling sound and a grunt as something heavy crashed into bone. Hooves pounded into flesh like a drum solo at a rock concert, then a body thumped to the floor. Ocellus and Sandbar lay frozen, staring at each other.  “Ocellus?” a male voice called from outside.  “It’s okay, we got him,” a female voice said.  Ocellus and Sandbar both tentatively peeked out and saw the bearded unicorn laying facedown on the ground as an orange pegasus cuffed the intruder’s hooves. A golden pegasus was retrieving his pistol from the corner, emptying the magazine and ejecting the chambered round.  “Cuz!” Sandbar cried at the sight of Flash, his cry turning into a coughing fit as he fixed his amazed eyes on Daring Do. She gave him a red-faced grin, wiping sweat from her brow.  “You two okay?” Flash asked as he finished patting down the intruder.  Ocellus just nodded numbly, slowly sagging to the floor. Sandbar hugged her, gently stroking her back as a red pegasus flew up, puffing and sweating.  “You got him?” Red Herring asked, landing behind Flash and Daring.  “I got him,” Flash confirmed, bending down to check on Blue Rose. The changeling moaned and feebly opened her eyes.  “Officer Sentry?” she moaned, then sat up suddenly. “Ocellus?!”  “Mom!” Ocellus cried, rushing over and hugging her tightly.  “Nice throw, Daring,” Red commented. “I gotta get me one of those boomerang things. Think Cold can make them standard issue?”  “You’d just smash a window,” Daring jabbed back.  “Speaking from experience?” Red smirked back.  Flash glanced down at the bleeding bite mark on Blasting Cap’s leg and looked over at Sandbar, noting the blood on his lips. He shot his cousin a grin. “Think you’ve got the makings of a hero in you, cuz.”  Sandbar slumped to the floor, taking slow, deep breaths to try to relieve some of the weight crushing his ribs. “I think...I’ll leave that to your side of the family,” he nodded feebly.