//------------------------------// // Case Twenty, Chapter Four: Pray and Prey // Story: Ponyville Noire: Rising Nightmares // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// Compared to the darkness of the night outside, the hospital room was painfully bright. Phillip’s eyes hurt as he sat next to the bed, staring at Daring’s body. He’d seen her lying atop a hospital mattress before, but now she was as still as a corpse, a tube stuck down her throat and an IV feeding a pale purple antidote into her arm. The only sign that she still lived was the slow beeping of the EKG monitor and the soft hissing of her artificial breath.  Phillip reached out and took her hoof; the limb was slack in his grasp, her temperature feverish. Brief echoes of what the doctors had told him flashed through his mind: “strychnine poisoning,” “enhanced toxins,” “antidotes,” “muscle relaxants and anticonvulsants.”  “Overnight monitoring.”  “Oxygen deprivation.”  “Possible brain damage.”  “If she makes it through the night…”  Phillip took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears scratching his eyes. To be able only to sit at her side and wait for her to wake up was an agony greater than any bullet wound.  Was this how she felt when I was in a coma? he thought idly, wiping at his face.  “Phil?”  Phillip looked up to see Flash standing at the doorway. The young stallion stared at Daring, the bags beneath his eyes emphasized by his pale face. Behind him was Twilight Sparkle, who was looking slightly cleaner and awake, but her face was still drawn with exhaustion and sadness as she gazed upon Daring.  “Is she gonna be okay?” Flash asked, entering slowly.  Phillip didn’t answer, just continued to stare silently at his wife.  “Are you gonna be okay?” Flash asked, sitting next to Phil.  Phil still didn’t answer save to swallow and take a shaky breath.  Flash hesitated a moment, then placed his wing around Phillip and pulled him into a hug. Phillip stiffened for a moment, then slowly placed his head against Flash’s shoulder.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.  “She’s gonna get through this, Phil,” Flash whispered. “We’re all gonna get through this.”  Phillip swallowed and nodded, then turned to Twilight. “Twi...can you…?”  “No,” Twilight shook her head. “I may be good at magic, but I’m not a doctor. My healing spells are only good for minor injuries like cuts and bruises; even if I tried something to heal her, I could very easily make things worse.”  Phillip sighed and mopped his face. “Worth a shot,” he mumbled.  “I would help if I could,” Twilight said, leaning into the hug as well. “But she’s strong. She’s gonna be okay.”  Phillip nodded. “Did you get the car?” he asked, hating how he had to force himself to care.  Flash and Twilight both paused, glancing at each other, then Flash sighed. “We lost them,” he admitted. “There was just so much confusion after Daring…” He fell silent for a moment, then gulped and continued. “Bumblebee and Gallus tried to follow but lost them after a couple of turns. We’re working on surveillance crystal footage.”  Phillip sighed, a faint echo of frustration twisting in his gut underneath the impotent pain. “Shit.”  “And I tried to reestablish the tracking spell, but it didn’t work,” Twilight added. “Either they’re out of my range, or they’re blocking it somehow. I’ll keep trying, but it might have faded by now.”  “Damn bird stole the compass,” Phillip grunted. He sighed and mopped his face again.  “We’ll keep looking, Phil,” Flash said, tightening his winghug. “We’ll find these assholes.”  Phillip nodded but still couldn’t tear his eyes away from Daring’s form. She had remained still and silent throughout the entire conversation save for her slow breathing; her hoof remained limp in his grasp.  “Do you want us to stay?” Twilight asked.  “No,” Phillip lied. “You have other work to do. I’ll...I’ll be fine.”  Flash and Twilight both glanced at each other, then slowly stood up and exited. “We’ll be on call if you need us,” Flash said with a backward glance as he reached the door. Phillip just nodded. Flash hesitated, then exited with Twilight. Their hoofsteps disappeared down the hall, leaving Phillip alone once more.  He squeezed Daring’s hoof, sniffling. His spare hoof went for his neck, wrapping around the little totem of Angkakert that dangled beneath his shirt. He rubbed the tiny wooden carving, allowing the tears to fall.  “Please,” he whispered in desperation. “Please. Please.”  Daring’s hoof squeezed his, just barely enough to be perceived. Phillip gasped, then slowly lowered his head, still holding the totem.  “Bien hecho, mi amiga,” Caballeron beamed, patting the white unicorn on the back as they trotted through the halls of their headquarters. “I knew I could count on you.”  The mare grinned as she hoisted the carrying tube. “‘Aven’t failed you yet, ‘ave I, boss?” she smirked, her lower-class Gritish accent biting into her speech.  “No, Open Lock, and I’m certain that you won’t,” Caballeron nodded as they entered the workshop, the door creaking as they did. Caballeron hit the lamp overhead, illuminating the massive worktable scattered with paintbrushes, chisels, rulers, pencils and notepads, and other tools. Clearing aside a space, Open Lock placed the carrying tube atop the table and unscrewed it.  “Lentamente,” Caballeron urged as the two began to coax the rolled-up canvas from within the tube. “This painting is over a hundred years old and extremely valuable to our client.”  “Easy, boss,” Skeleton rolled her eyes. “Don’t see what all the fuss is about, to be ‘onest. ‘S just a paintin’ of some bloke standing in front of a mirror that don’t work right.”  “It is so much more than that, mi amiga,” Caballeron replied, slowly unfurling the canvas, admiring the image of the stallion before the bizarre mirror. “They called Artiste Fou mad, but that was only because they couldn’t understand his genius. What he was truly in touch wi--”  A yelp from Open Lock made him look up with alarm. The pale yellow pegasus was standing at the doorway, his scowl evident even through the balaclava. The raven sat atop his back; the metal blades attached to her talons glimmered dangerously in the light.  “Do you ever knock?” Caballeron sighed.  As usual, the Plague Doctor didn’t answer, instead focusing his red eyes upon their prize on the table. A low grunt that sounded like a question issued from his throat.  “If you’re concerned, have I not reassured you that the walls of my home are warded against any version of tracking or detection spells?” Caballeron replied. “There is no chance that they will follow that tracking spell to us.”  The Plague Doctor nodded curtly.  “Now,” Caballeron said, reaching for a bottle of already prepared cumulus water. “Let us see what Artiste Fou had in store for--”  He suddenly froze, his emerald eyes widening in disbelief. “Doc? What is it?” Open Lock asked.  Caballeron snarled and scraped at the painting with a hoof. No flakes came off the canvas.  “iBastardo!” Caballeron snarled. “It’s a copy! A fake!”  “Are you sure?” Lock asked.  “There are no layers of paint from the restorations!” Caballeron replied, throwing the useless canvas aside. “It’s a duplicate made with a copying spell!”  “They did what?” Open Lock cried. “Cheeky Mareish bastards! Can’t trust a damned one of them!”  The Plague Doctor’s red eyes narrowed as Caballeron sighed and mopped his face.  “One of them must still have it,” Caballeron muttered. “Either the mobsters or the police. But which one? And how do we…?”  The raven let out a throaty little croak. The pegasus glanced at her over his shoulder, then turned and exited.  “Wait, where are you going?” Caballeron called, following after the masked stallion as he headed down the dark halls; outside the windows, the darkened clouds rolled endlessly towards starlit horizons.  They reached a door secured by a heavy padlock. Caballeron paused, glancing uncertainly at his companion.  The red eyes stared evenly back at him as the Plague Doctor pulled the sickle and chain from his belt. Caballeron swallowed nervously, then stood back and turned away. He heard the lock unlatch, the door open and shut.  And then he heard the screaming.  She didn't know where she was or how long she'd been there, but she wasn't concerned. There was only the music, a song as old as creation that wrapped around her like a warm blanket; infinite voices joined together in graceful harmony, her own voice flowing in and out of the melody without any conscious effort on her part. A voice like a great river whispered to her, a message that she felt rather than heard: It is time for you to go back, ampa. Do not be afraid. They are waiting for you. We love you. A touch like a mother's kiss was bestowed upon her forehead, leaving with it the scent of spring rain. The song slowly faded away like a tide, and her heart ached at the loss. We are always with you. And then the song faded away, and she was floating back up slowly, lights piercing the darkness... Daring Do slowly woke up and immediately wished that she hadn’t. Every muscle ached and her head felt like somepony had practiced a tap-dancing routine on her skull. Her throat burned, and when she took in a breath, she felt something hard and foul-tasting inside her mouth, prying her jaw open.  “Aghk,” she articulated, reaching up to grab the item in her mouth. “Gurk!” she grunted, tugging at the tube. Fresh waves of pain flew across her throat and panic caused her to start gasping and choking.  “Daring! Daring, easy!”  Hooves gently pushed her back down onto the soft mattress, tugged her hoof away from the tube in her mouth. Daring opened her eyes to meet a pair of stormcloud gray orbits and instantly relaxed, her breathing slowing.  “Breathe, Daring,” Phillip urged her, a weak smile drawing across his pale, exhausted face as he stroked her cheeks; his touch was soothingly warm. “Breathe. Shh, it’s okay.”  A doctor entered the room. “Ah, she’s awake,” she said with a relieved smile, taking out a stethoscope. “How are you feeling, Miss Do?”  Daring replied by curling her primary and secondary feathers together in a circle while fanning the other circles out “Excellent,” the doctor replied, checking her heartbeat and breathing. “How about we get that thing out?”  The cream-colored unicorn gently pulled the breathing tube out of Daring’s throat. Daring coughed and spat as it was removed.  “Gugh,” she grunted. “The only thing I deep throat is him.” She nodded at Phillip, smirking at the way his ears turned red.  The doctor let out a mollified chuckle as she completed checking up on her patient’s heartbeat and breathing. “All right, looking good,” she said. “But I’m betting you’re really sore, aren’t you?”  “Yeah,” Daring replied, slowly stretching out her limbs. “Feels like I got run over by a steamroller a few times.”  The doctor started gently exercising Daring’s forelegs and wings. “Hmm, doesn’t look like you tore anything,” she reported. “But we’ll have to keep you here for monitoring just in--”  “Fuck that shit,” Daring cut her off. “I need to find some breakfast and an asshole. Just give me some aspirin and I’ll be fine.”  The doctor stared at her for a long beat, then sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re leaving here no matter what I say, aren’t you?” she said.  “Yes, she is,” Phillip sighed.  “Well, you should definitely get some ice and rest as often as you can,” the doctor told her. “And don’t overexert yourself or you’ll just end up right back here.”  “Yeah, yeah,” Daring said, getting off the bed. Her limbs wobbled for a moment as they protested having to take her weight, but she regained her hoofing after a moment.  After signing some early release paperwork, Daring and Phillip exited the hospital. Daring took in a deep breath of the cold, sun-kissed air outside the hospital, tilting her pith helmet back and looking around at the city streets covered in a thin layer of overnight snow. “So,” she said, turning to Phillip, “I’m thinking Sugarcube Corner for breakmmph--”  Her request was cut off when Phillip pulled her in close and pressed his lips against hers. She enthusiastically wrapped her still-sore forelegs around her husband and kissed him back.  “I thought I was gonna lose you,” Phillip exhaled shakily, hugging her so tight that she felt like he was trying to squeeze the air from her lungs; she felt hot tears on the back of her neck. “I prayed for the first time in years.”  “Like I was gonna let some bird put me in the ground,” Daring replied quietly, patting him on the back reassuringly.  When Phillip still didn’t respond, Daring gently tucked her face into his nape, nuzzling his shoulder. “When you were in your coma,” she whispered, feeling an echo of the old pain and fear slithering through her gut. “Not a day went by when I wasn’t scared that you weren’t going to wake up. But I’m okay, right?”  “Right, right,” Phillip nodded, taking a breath as he regained control of himself. An echo of ancient music sounded in her ears. "Hey," Daring whispered. "I heard the song, too." Phillip was silent for a moment while he processed her words, then let out a soft exhalation of relief and joy combined. He pulled back and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you,” he whispered.  “You too,” Daring smiled, leaning against him for a moment. “Now, about that breakfast?”  “Yeah, Sugarcube Corner sounds good,” Phillip nodded. “And we’re taking a trolley. You are not ready to go flying yet.”  “You’re no fun,” Daring pouted, sticking her tongue out at him.  Phillip guzzled down the last of his coffee as he and Daring entered the lobby of the Ponynville Police Department, tossing the cup into a trash bin.  “Ah, I needed this,” Daring sighed, inhaling the scent of the cappuccino in her cup before taking a sip. “Thanks, Phil.”  “Welcome,” Phillip nodded. “Now, let’s find--”  “Phil, Daring!” an orange blur shouted, rushing up to them. A moment later, the wind was knocked from both detectives as Flash seized them in a tight hug.  “Ow! Ow, ow, ow!” Daring protested as pain flared across her aching muscles, her cappuccino dropping to the floor and spilling everywhere.  “Sorry!” Flash cried, releasing her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think--”  “It’s fine,” Daring cut him off, sighing sadly as she looked mournfully at the precious liquid that was now spreading over the tiles.  “Are you okay?” Flash asked breathlessly, looking over Daring’s body.  “Well, I’m not gonna run any marathons, but I think I’m fine,” Daring replied, rolling her shoulders to dissipate the pain.  “Good,” Flash sighed. “We were all so worried.”  “Like I was gonna let some freak in a Nightmare Night costume and his pet bird kill me,” Daring smirked.  “Let’s get back to work,” Phillip said. “What have you found out?”  “Yeah,” Flash said. “You should probably come with me to the lab.”  Flash led them downstairs to the forensic lab, where they found Doctor Suunkii, Twilight Sparkle, Red Herring, Flame Strider, Cold Case, and Beacon Fire standing around a table, all of them staring down at something upon it.  “What are we looking at?” Daring asked as they entered.  “A package that a messenger from the Mareish Mob gave to us this morning,” Cold Case stated, frowning at them. “Apparently, a raven delivered it to them at sunrise.”  The small box, barely larger than a box for an engagement earring, lay open on the table; the brown paper that had been wrapped around it had been carefully peeled off and was placed on the table next to it. The name “Coin Toss” was scrawled on it in blue pen.  But it was the package’s contents that drew everyone’s eyes and prompted a small gasp from Daring. A single eye, green as a grassy field, a deep gouge within the jelly.  “That’s…” Daring started to say.  “Rough Diamond’s,” Strider replied, holding up the mug shot. The gouged-out eye matched that of the mare in the photograph.  “This was with it,” Cold Case stated, holding up a small note. Angrily scrawled onto the note in the same blue ink was a message:  WE WARNED YOU. “What?” Phillip said out loud. “They think the Mob still has the painting?”  “We’re still working on that,” Red said. “Unless some imposter took the painting instead of them, then…”  “The painting was a fake,” Daring concluded, scowling.  Phillip thought for a moment, then smacked himself on the forehead. “Bloody idiot!” he snarled. “I should be drop-kicked from here into the river!”  “Is that a request?” Red asked dryly.  “Single layer. The painting had only a single layer,” Phillip continued, ignoring Red. “It was made with a copying spell. He kept the original.”  “I knew we couldn’t trust those assholes,” Beacon Fire growled.  “Coin Toss has some questions to answer,” Red Herring snarled. “Unfortunately, we can’t find him; we already checked McNeighley’s and his other hangouts and got nowhere. The guy who dropped it off is in interrogation, but he’s not saying anything.”  “So, let’s recap,” Cold Case stated. “This Doctor Caballeron and the Plague Doctor got away with the fake painting. Coin Toss still has the real painting. And we don’t know where Winged Key or Rough Diamond is, or if Rough is still alive.”  “Hoping that she is,” Phillip said, glancing at the eye. “Keep her for ransom.” He paused for a moment. “Mare who picked up the painting,” he said aloud.  “Her name is Open Lock,” Strider replied. “I called in her description to the Bureau last night. Short list for burglary and B&E throughout the Gritish Isles a few years ago, then dropped off the grid right around the same time Caballeron was spotted there; he stole a collection of marble carvings from the Royal Museum in Landain.”  “APB’s already out, no hits,” Red cut him off.  “And Twilight Sparkle and I will be conducting a forensic analysis of the package,” Doctor Suunkii announced. “I doubt that we’ll find anything, however.”  Phillip tapped the side of his head a few times in thought. “Who followed the car?” he finally asked.  “Detective Burned Rubber,” Cold reported. “He’s made his report.”  “I need to see it,” Phillip said. “I need to see the path the car took.”  A few moments later, a map of Ponyville was spread out on a table in the Dispatch Room with three ponies bending over it.  “Right around Seventh and Apple is where I lost them,” Detective Burned Rubber stated, tapping the intersection on the map. The orange unicorn shook his tar-black bangs out of his emerald eyes and frowned.  Phillip’s pen traced the path that the getaway car had taken, pausing at the intersection. “Any idea where they went after?” he asked.  “We went over the area with a tracking spell, but there were too many tire tracks on the streets; we couldn’t narrow it down enough,” Rubber replied, taking the pen in his magic and extending the line with a series of dots. “And it looks like the car had some kind of jammer in it because every surveillance crystal for a block around them froze when they passed. We tried to follow them by the trail of jammed crystals, and that did lead us down Apple Street up to Pear, but they must’ve turned off the jammer because that’s where the trail went cold.”  He shook his head at the long, winding route that his targets had taken. “Whoever was driving that car knew what they were doing,” he admitted. “I can’t believe I managed to follow them as long as I did.”  “You have any idea where they went after that?” Strider asked, glancing up at the displays on the wall where multiple crystals were embedded. Daring, Flash, and Red were all studying recordings from the previous night, rewinding and slowly tracing the videos, searching for any sign of the black four-door with license plate 87CZ2L--a license plate that Rubber had already confirmed was stolen from a completely different vehicle.  “Well, we didn’t spot them on any surveillance crystals, so my guess…they cut through an alley here instead of heading towards Pear,” Rubber said, drawing another dotted line through a city block. “Then they would’ve gone this way…”  “Hold it,” Flash called, pausing and rewinding his projection, a view from the intersection of Apple and Pear. As the others watched, a lone sedan came into view: a light green Chevroneigh sedan, license plate K700TYU. “That’s not it, Flash,” Red commented, turning back to his own image.  “No, wait,” Daring said, squinting at the video. “Can you zoom in on the bumper?”  “Er…” Flash tapped a few of the crystals embedded into the wall, causing the image to swap to a street in the Industrial District. “Shit, what did I--?”  Burned Rubber rolled his eyes. “Move, whippersnapper,” he sighed, limping over to the screen. With a couple of taps, he returned the projection to the previous view of Apple and Pear.  “Thanks,” Flash said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his mane. He tapped a few more keys and after a few moments, managed to zoom in on the green Chevroneigh’s bumper.  “Aha!” Daring declared, pointing. “There’s a scuff on the bumper there! That’s our car!”  “Are you sure?” Red asked.  “I’m sure,” Daring stated. “I saw that scuff when they picked up Open Lock.”  “She’s right,” Rubber confirmed. “I saw the scuff, too.”  “So did I,” Strider nodded.  “Follow that car,” Daring ordered. Her command proved unnecessary, as Flash was already working to track the car’s progress through the city. The getaway vehicle passed down Pear, circled around three different blocks to shake off any last pursuers, then left the Everfree District and headed into the Financial District.  Finally, they lost them around Ingot Avenue. After checking the views from several other crystals, Red shook his head. “That’s gotta be around where they stopped,” he reported.  Rubber circled a small area enclosing three blocks in the midst of the northwestern section of Ponyville. “Now...where did they go after that?” he mused aloud.  “Hmm,” Phillip said, his eyes darting over the map. “The car from the museum robbery went in that direction as well.” His hoof traced a path from the Ponyville History Museum southwards down the streets.  “They’ve gotta have a hideout around there,” Strider said.  “Hoofwork?” Red sighed.  “Hoofwork,” Phillip nodded.  “Well, if you see any of them, let us know,” Red Herring replied, turning away from the apartment door as the young, tired mare closed it. He frowned at the three photos that he and the others had been passing around: Caballeron, Open Lock, and Trato Perfecto.  “Nada,” he grumbled to his partner, who tilted her pith helmet back to wipe her forehead. “But then, are we surprised? We knew that this was a long shot.”  “Archeologists spend whole days out in the sun, sifting through sand to try to find the tiniest shards of pottery and flint,” Daring replied. “You can work a few hours going door to door.”  “You sure your husband can’t come up with any better ideas?” Red grumbled, glaring back down the hall of the apartments. Phillip, Flash, and Agent Strider were knocking at other doors, and judging by their expressions, they were having about as much luck as Red and Daring.  “Well, he’s not Hooflock Holmes, Red,” Daring replied. “Even though he likes to pretend he is. C’mon.”  They knocked at the next door, 208. After a few moments, the door opened and a small aquamarine unicorn mare peeked out, the door clacking as the chain securing it was pulled taut.  “Yes?” the little mare asked.  “Police, ma’am,” Red introduced himself. “Have you seen any of these three ponies around here?” He held up the photographs of the three suspects. The mare squinted at them for several moments of silence, then shook her head. “No, I’m sorry,” she said.  As Red continued his standard litany of questions about suspicious comings and goings in the past night, Daring peeked over the mare’s head into the apartment proper and raised an eyebrow at what she saw. The sitting room was nearly bare, save for a couple of chairs, a card table, and something standing in the corner. Light from the curtained window glittered off the tall, narrow shape.  “Sorry, can’t help you,” the mare said, starting to close the door.  Recognition suddenly flared through Daring’s mind. “Hold it,” she said, reaching out and holding a foreleg against the door. “Where did you get that mirror?”  The mare glanced back at the standing mirror in the corner. The golden frame had several gems set into it; blue, green, and red, shimmering faintly in the shadows.  “That?” the mare asked, quickly turning away. “I...bought that at a yard sale.”  “Really?” Daring raised an eyebrow. “For how much?”  “Five bits,” the mare said, trying to close the door again.  Daring scoffed. “Right. You got that for five bits when you apparently can’t even afford an actual table.”  A bead of sweat ran down from the mare’s reddish-brown mane. “I...I just moved in here,” she protested, her eyes darting about.  “Is that so?” Red asked. “So if we asked the super, they’d back that up?”  The mare stared at them for a few moments with wide eyes, then swallowed. Her hoof started to reach towards a table to the side of the door. Her hoof came down with a clatter on something metallic.  Red’s eyes darted down and he scowled at the small black shape visible through the crack. “You’d better have a license for that gun,” he said.  The mare blinked, then slammed the door in their faces.  “Guys, get over here!” Red barked to the others, turning and bucking at the door. The door splintered, determinedly clinging to the threshold as Phil, Flash, and Strider sprinted up.  With another grunt, Red bucked the door once more, causing it to crash down. The group caught a glimpse of the mare glancing over her shoulder as she jumped through the mirror, which showed a dark hallway instead of a reflection.  No sooner had she vanished through the portal than the mirror shimmered, then returned to a normal reflection, the images of the investigators staring back at them.  “I knew it,” Daring growled as she stomped over to the mirror. “That’s an enchanted mirror just like Scarlet used.”  “Where the hell did they get it?” Flash asked aloud as Red and Phillip quickly cleared the rest of the apartment, which consisted only of an empty bedroom and a small bathroom.  “More importantly, where does it go?” Daring said, trotting up to the mirror. “Now, how did Sparks say it worked…?”  She reached up and started tapping at the gems: green, blue, then red. “Aha!” she declared as the reflection began to swirl and blur.  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Flash asked nervously. “We should call for backup.”  “You do that,” Daring nodded as the mirror revealed a darkened room on the other side. Drawing her pistol, she stepped through the glass.  With a roll of his eyes, Phillip drew his own revolver and followed her through. “Any of you coming?” he asked.  “I see why you married her, Phil,” Strider stated, pulling out his own revolver and following him.  Red and Flash stared at each other, then Red rolled his eyes. “Call it in, rookie,” he said. “Somepony’s got to use their brain here.”  Flash pulled out his radio and clicked it on. “Bishop Seven to Dispatch,” he reported.  Only static responded to him. Flash frowned and clicked the button again. “Dispatch, come in,” he said.  More static. Flash clicked to the backup frequency, only to get the same result.  “Did you charge it?” Red asked, unable to keep a note of nervousness out of his voice.  “Yeah, I’m sure--”  Flash’s reply was cut off by a yelp as something seized him and Red and pulled them through the mirror. The two pegasi tumbled to the floor, which flexed beneath their weight as only a cloud construction could.  A crushing weight pressed down on them both, forcing them to their knees and pushing the wind from their lungs. Flash strained to lift his head to squint about the small, dark room. Phil, Daring, and Strider were all forced down to the floor as well, their faces masks of pain as crackling red energy encompassed their bodies.  A door opened, throwing the chamber into light for a moment before a stallion entered, his body cast in silhouette.  “Well, well,” their captor said with a vicious grin that made his emerald eyes glitter. “Bienvenido a mi casa.”  The pressure suddenly increased tenfold, so great that Flash couldn’t even scream. Right before he blacked out, he heard the bodies of his companions thumping to the floor.