“Let me get this straight,” Cold Case said, rubbing her forehead with a hoof. “You found one of the thieves who stole the Rings.”
“Yes,” Red Herring said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.
“One of the only leads we had,” Cold continued icily.
“All due respect, ma’am, you weren’t there when he--” Red started to protest.
“One of the only ponies who knew anything about the Plague Doctor,” Cold pressed, notes of frustration entering her voice as she glared at the two stallions across the desk from her. “And you killed him. After he’d gotten his horn broken off.”
Flash glanced at his senior partner; the red pegasus scowled at the chief, his wings fluttering in agitation as he formulated his counterargument.
“Chief, we’re sorry,” Flash cut in. “He jumped at Phil and we thought he might still be a threat.”
Cold sighed and stared at the report in front of her, including photographs of Trato Perfecto’s hornless, bloodied corpse laid on a stretcher.
She paused over another photograph, this one taken of the umbrella with the hidden blade. “Where did he get that?” she mused aloud, chewing on the stem of her pipe in contemplation.
“He wasn’t there to pay off Moon Watch, that’s for damn sure,” Red Herring commented.
“Speaking of whom, has he said anything?” Cold asked.
“He started spilling his guts before we even got him in the cruiser,” Red replied. “He told him that Deal called him up and tried to hire him to help them steal the Rings. When he refused, Deal blackmailed him by threatening to blow the whistle on how he and his brother-in-law were involved in the Mob's smuggling ring and framed Fig Leaf for it so that he could keep his career.” Red snorted. “Prick.”
“He was the one who put a Confounding Potion in the coffee machine and put the jammer on the surveillance crystals,” Flash added. “But he only spoke to Trato; he didn’t know who the other stallion was, and he swears up and down that he didn’t know that the Plague Doctor was involved.”
“I believe that,” Cold nodded. She flipped through the last pages of the report, then closed the file and sighed, retrieving a bag of tobacco from the desk.
“I need you to review everything we have from the museum scene,” she instructed the two stallions. “Absolutely everything. Triple-check it. I’m sure Finder and Do are already on that. There’s got to be something that we missed, something that will give us a lead.”
“Wouldn’t bet on it,” Red muttered.
“He means we’re on it,” Flash said, quickly pulling Red out the door with an apologetic smile.
With a sigh, Cold lit up the bowl of her pipe with her magic, rotating her chair around to stare out the window of her office. Outside, the lights of Ponyville joined in the wake of the setting sun, orange light fading into darkness.
“Where are you?” she hissed aloud.
The only answer was a whisper of the wind outside the glass, sending a few of the last leaves of the year past her gaze, disappearing into the distance. Cold scowled and exhaled smoke.
“Hate to be whomever you’re mad at,” a female voice said from the door.
Cold Case turned around to see a tall charcoal gray unicorn mare in a brown bomber jacket with the cutie mark of an ornate torch standing at the doorway, removing her aviator sunglasses with her magic and pushing her fiery orange and gold mane over her shoulder as she gave Cold a small smile of greeting.
“Bea,” Cold said, allowing herself to feel a brief wave of relief wash over her at the mare’s arrival.
Lieutenant General Beacon Fire entered the office fully and walked into Cold’s embrace, greeting her with a kiss on the lips. “You look like you haven’t slept in days,” the general commented, looking Cold over.
“Feel like it, too,” Cold admitted, rubbing her worn face.
“Are Finder and Do all right?” Beacon asked, lifting up a briefcase with several locks on it. She dialed in a combination and unlocked it with a small key, opening the briefcase to reveal several files marked TOP SECRET in red.
“They’re both okay,” Cold nodded.
“They’re damn lucky,” Beacon said grimly. “Few ponies have taken on the Plague Doctor and lived to tell about it. You said that Twilight managed to isolate a sample of his toxin?”
“She did. I’m not sure how much help it’ll be, though,” Cold said.
“Anything helps, especially when it’s Shining’s sister,” Beacon said, trying to give Cold a smile, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “We barely have any samples of his toxin, and we're still working on figuring out most of the components."
She opened up one of the folders and scowled at the photograph within. The long-range photograph was blurry, taken from several yards away and through a window, but there was no mistaking the shape of the masked pony within.
“It’s been years and we still don’t know who he is,” Beacon scowled, staring at the picture of the Plague Doctor.
“And now he has the Rings of Scorchero,” Cold added.
“That’s not what worries me,” Beacon replied. “The Plague Doctor worked for Sombra. So who’s he working for now?”
The two mares looked at one another, then out the window into the encroaching darkness.
Silver Plate squinted, raising a hoof to shield his face as the sun struck his eyes. A crowd of reporters immediately swarmed in like a herd of vultures, assailing him with questions and flashing camera bulbs.
“Step aside, please, step aside,” Vinny Gamble urged the reporters, pushing them aside as he guided his client forward through the crowd.
“Ladies and gentleponies,” Detective Skybrush called from in front of the Trottingham Police Department doors, beckoning the scavengers over to him. “If you’ll all come over here, I’ll give you an official statement…”
The griffon caught the unicorn’s eye and gave him a small smile and an encouraging nod. Silver managed a feeble nod back as Vinny guided him into a waiting taxi.
Vinny sighed as he sagged into the seat next to him. “You ready to go back home?” he asked Silver.
Silver sighed. “It’s not gonna feel like home anymore,” he mumbled as the taxi pulled away from the station.
“You have someplace to go after this?” Vinny asked.
Silver puffed some of his stray mane out of his face. “Yeah, I’m bunking with a friend,” he said. “I’m looking to set up a place in Ponyville while I sell the rest of dad’s inventory.”
The taxi pulled up in front of the metal shop. The crime scene tape had been pulled away from the doors, but the windows were still dark, speaking to its abandonment.
“I know Dad wanted me to inherit the shop after he retired,” Silver said, staring at the little building like he was just seeing it for the first time. “But...I don’t know. I never really wanted to work in a shop.” He mopped his face as he and Vinny exited the cab, the former convict throwing some bits at the donkey driver.
“You know…” he said to Vinny. “The last time I was here, I had just finished yelling at my dad that he didn’t control my life. But now…” He closed his eyes for a long moment. “Now I’d give anything to take all that back.”
“I wasn’t on good terms with my dad most of my life, either,” Vinny admitted. “But in hindsight, I know that he loved me and was trying to make sure I was taking care of myself...in his own, distant, semi-manipulative way,” he said with a faint chuckle, earning a raised eyebrow from Silver.
“But anyway…” Vinny coughed, digging into his suit pockets. “I managed to find something that I think your dad would’ve wanted you to have.”
Silver’s eyes widened as he saw the item being extracted from Vinny’s pocket: a golden pocket watch with a deer engraved into the front.
“This was my favorite birthday present,” he said softly, accepting the gift. He opened up the face to find that the crystal-carved hands were still ticking away smoothly.
“Took me a while to track it down,” Silver shrugged.
“Why--?”
“Because I think your dad would’ve wanted you to keep it,” Vinny said, patting Silver on the shoulder. “Not just because it was a gift, but to remind you that he wouldn’t have wanted you to throw your life away gambling. Go out and make something of yourself, kid. You’ve got a long life ahead of you.”
Silver stared at the pocket watch, then slowly closed it, tears leaking from his eyes. “Thanks, Vinny,” he said quietly. “I will.”
“There are a couple other ponies you should be thanking, too,” Vinny commented, looking north. Far to the horizon, across the distant blue lines of the Maresippi, the spires of Ponyville reached up towards the gray sky.
The crowd of reporters shifted and murmured, pens and notepads held at the ready as they eagerly stared up at the stage of the Ponyville Police Department’s press conference room. In the hallway outside, Cold Case took a slow breath, adjusting her official uniform one last time.
“This will cause a panic,” Captain Hewn Oak said cautiously.
“I know,” Cold nodded. “But the ponies need to know.”
Oak puffed out a breath, one hoof stroking the beads of his rosary. “Alicorns preserve us,” he whispered. “May we beat the heretic scum from their nests before they can do any great harm.”
Cold Case looked to Beacon Fire, who had also dressed in her full uniform for the press conference, and nodded. Beacon nodded back and gave Cold Case a small pat on the arm.
The trio pushed the door open and were instantly assailed by a flurry of questions and shouts from the reporters. Keeping her spine stiff, Cold Case trotted up onto the stage and to the podium.
“Ladies and gentleponies, please settle down,” she said into the microphone, allowing a few moments for the reporters to quiet down and return to their seats. Up at the front, she recognized that kirin journalist in the midst of the crowd, sitting on the edge of her chair, notepad in her lap, pen floating in her blue magic.
“Two nights ago, on the evening of the 28th of the Moon of Frost, a group of at least three ponies broke into the Ponyville History Museum and stole two of the Rings of Scorchero. They were aided by a security guard whom they had bribed. We have since arrested the security guard and one of the thieves was killed when he attacked police officers.”
Cold paused, glancing at her two comrades that stood at her sides, then swallowed. “One of the thieves involved was the Plague Doctor,” she announced. “An assassin who worked for King Sombra during the Crystal War and is wanted internationally for murder.”
Instantly the salvos of questions came again, mixed with cries of alarm and panic.
“We are doing everything in our power to find the Plague Doctor and his associates,” Cold Case spoke over them. “The military, represented by Lieutenant General Beacon Fire, will be aiding us in our search. But we must also warn the public to be on the lookout for the Plague Doctor. From descriptions, he is a male yellow pegasus about three foot one inches tall with red eyes. He may have an affinity with birds and may have a cutie mark or special talent related to it.
“We must warn the public; the Plague Doctor is extremely dangerous,” Cold continued, noting that she was gripping the podium tightly with both hooves. “He has killed at least thirty ponies. We do not know who he is, or what he wants, but I do know this: we’re gonna find that son of a bitch, and he will pay for everything he’s done.”
She took a breath and fought down the chill that ran up her spine. “Now, we will take your questions…”
“Yona sorry,” the yak said, staring at the table. “Yona already told Detective all Yona saw.”
Phillip sighed and glanced down at his notepad. There were barely any notes written on the sheet, the blankness staring back as if mocking him.
“It’s all right, Yona,” he said, closing the notepad. “You did a bloody brave thing, going in there with them. Matter of fact, you probably saved their lives, breaking that ward.”
“How yaks solve problems,” Yona declared proudly. “Smash problem!”
Phillip smiled wryly. “Wish we could do that to the Plague Doctor.”
“Detectives will find him! And if they need Yona help, Yona will come help!” the young yak declared proudly. “Be glad to smash Plague Doctor for friends!”
Phillip actually let out a small laugh at her enthusiasm. “Definitely keep you in mind, sheila,” he said as he stood and exited the interview room.
His smile quickly faded as he headed down the hall to the conference room. Entering with a sigh, he flopped down into an empty seat around the table.
“You didn’t find anything useful at the lab?” Phillip asked Twilight, wiping his face.
“There has to be something!” Twilight protested, flipping through the disorganized pile of files in front of her. “Some clue, something that tells us who he is or how he makes that toxin or--!”
“Twilight,” Flash cut in, placing a placating hoof on her shoulder. “If there’s anything there, you’re going to find it, okay?”
Twilight took a few deep breaths and slowed down, reexamining her notes. “The fire destroyed almost everything in the Plague Doctor’s lab,” she reported. “Most of what we found are chemical traces. I’m comparing them to your blood samples to see if I can learn more about the toxin’s composition. Lieutenant General Fire will be helping me.”
“We’re putting pressure on every contact in the Industry Kings we have, but they’re not talking,” Red commented. “They’re more scared of this freak than they are of us. Can’t blame ‘em.”
“These Rings,” Phillip said slowly. “Guessing they’re more than just money.”
“If the legends are real, those rings are part of an ancient superweapon,” Daring said with a frown. “And this freak has at least two of them.”
They all turned towards the whiteboard at the end of the room. Photographs and notes were tacked up onto the board; pictures from the crime scenes, Curveball’s corpse with his slit throat, Moon Watch’s body crumpled in the street, images of the Rings.
And in the center of it all, the Plague Doctor, glaring out at the world through his healer’s mask.
“We’ll find him,” Phillip said grimly. “We will.”