Ponyville Noire: Rising Nightmares

by PonyJosiah13


Case Twenty-One, Chapter Nine: The Puppet Dances

“All right, everypony, escuchame,” Caballeron declared, bending over the table. The other three ponies all gathered around, all staring at the map of the White Tail Woods spread out before them. 

“We gotta go over this again?” Rogue grunted, rolling his shoulders. “Boss, you know that plans only ever last until somepony gets punched in the face.” 

“Which is why we’re trying to avoid that for once,” Biff replied. 

Rogue snorted. “Well, that’s no fun.” 

“Rogue,” Caballeron cut him off. “Anyway, let us review. Tomorrow night, a cargo ship will be dropping off a delivery of amberclaw from Thrussia at the docks. It will be immediately placed into an armored car for transport to Canterlot. They will be bringing it along this route here.” He drew a hoof over a road cutting through the woods.

“Here is where we will ambush them,” Caballeron continued, placing a small flag at a curve in the road. “We will blow out the tires with some spike strips, knock out the drivers, cut into the back and remove the cargo, then bring it back onto the house.” 

“You sure about letting the drivers live?” Rogue grunted. 

“We do not need to kill anypony, Rogue,” Caballeron said firmly. 

“I agree,” Withers nodded, squinting through his sunglasses at the map through a table-mounted magnifying glass. “We don’t need any more negative attention.” 

Rogue snorted disdainfully. “I know you can’t read the papers, mate, but we’ve already got blood on our hooves. What’s a couple more?” 

The glare that Withers gave his comrade through the sunglasses could’ve curdled milk. “I can read, you know!” he snapped. “Just because I need these glasses to not bump into shit and they don’t print newspapers with large enough print for ponies like me--” 

“iBasta!” Caballeron barked. “This solves nothing!” 

“Rogue, seriously,” Biff scolded. 

The two combatants retreated from one another, both glaring. 

“Will the…” Biff swallowed nervously. “Doctor be joining us?” 

“I don’t know,” Caballeron admitted. “I think that he’ll be busy with the mare.” 

The three thugs all sighed in relief. 

“We’ll open the crate safely here,” Caballeron concluded. “And once our new amiga is finished with the formulae, we’ll cut the required pieces.” 

“Stopping time,” Bill said with an incredulous shake of his head. “That’d make for a hell of a heist, doctor.” 

“Oh, it’s not for us, amigo,” Caballeron said. “Our…benefactor has something else planned for it.” 

“Be nice if he let us in on his plans more often,” Withers grumbled. 

“Agreed,” Caballeron nodded. 

“Ah, where’s your sense of adventure?” Rogue grinned. “Life’s all about having fun, not knowing where the next turn is gonna lead.” 

“You get that from the Book of Discord?” Withers sardonically commented. 

“Both of you, give it a rest,” Biff sighed. “What matters is we get him what he wants and we get to meet the Old Gods at last.” 

“A new start for all of us,” Caballeron said, a wistful sigh crossing his face. “Away from all this. From the past.” 

“Aye, wipe the slate clean for all of us,” Rogue grinned. 

“If you say so,” Withers shrugged, squinting at the enlarged map, running a hoof over the topographical representation and tapping the marker on the table. “Only god I need is money.” 

Rogue frowned at him but held his tongue. 

“Then let us be sure of our cause,” Caballeron declared. “Tomorrow night, the amberclaw will be ours.” 


The rust-coated griffon bounced the ball against the asphalt of the court, every bounce thumping in his ears like the city’s heartbeat. Behind him, the city breathed and tensed and pulsed, declaring its emotions and thoughts through the honking of car horns, the susurrus of tires through snow and slush, hooves and talons clacking against the snowy concrete, the buzzing of the lamps that illuminated the court, and beneath it all, a blend of dozens of different voices: the barking of street vendors, children laughing and whining, the conversations, arguments, and promises of couples. A bitter southern wind carried from the river, bringing with it the sounds of waves, creaking boards, and dinging bells from the public docks a mere half-mile away. 

Simon clutched the ball to his chest for a moment and threw the ball up to the hoops. It thumped against the backboard and swooshed through the hoop, making the chains that passed for a net rattle. The ball bounced back to the griffon, who caught it with a sigh. 

“Hey, Simon.” 

Simon frowned at the familiar voice. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that there was a blue griffon with gold accents on his feathers standing at the edge of the basketball court. 

“Gallus,” Simon replied, throwing the basketball again. The ball ricocheted off the rim and bounced into the corner, prompting Simon to hiss in frustration. “What are you doing here?” 

Gallus trotted up and caught the ball. “I can’t talk to an old coworker?” he replied, bouncing the ball a few times. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Simon muttered, stepping back. “You’re a cop now. I already asked for a lawyer and he said I shouldn’t be speaking to you guys. And besides, if somegriff sees us talking--” 

“I’m not a cop right now,” Gallus replied, taking a shot of his own. The ball hit the backboard high and careened back to Simon, who easily caught it. “I’m just here to talk.” 

Simon frowned, casting his gaze over the small island that passed as a park in the Dockside District. Litter was sprinkled over the layers of snow like the toppings on a vanilla ice cream float, with walkways cut through the snow like rivers. The chains of a rusty swing set creaked in the wind; its slightly dilapidated appearance complemented the other playground equipment. A nearby public bathroom was covered in overlapping graffiti and gang symbols, a chronicle of shifting territories and alliances. 

The only other eyes that were focused upon the two griffons were the faded images on a series of wanted posters plastered on the bathroom’s wall: Caballeron’s scruffy scowl, Lock Pick’s smirk, and the Plague Doctor glaring through his mask. 

“Okay. Talk,” Simon grunted, tossing the ball to the other griffon. 

“I know you’re not with the Industry Kings,” Gallus replied, dribbling the ball a few times. 

Simon glanced aside and swallowed. 

“And I know they pushed you into this shit so you feel like you don’t have any other options,” Gallus replied, taking another shot. The ball swooshed through the net with a quiet rattle. 

“They’re my buddies,” Simon protested. 

“If they’re your buddies, then where are they?” Gallus pointed out, practicing passing the ball between his wings. 

Simon looked down at the ground with a sigh. 

“Simon,” Gallus said, tucking the ball beneath his wing. “We used to spend all our time here. We even marked up the court after we won that doubles contest.” 

He nodded over to a corner of the asphalt where a series of initials and cutie marks were etched into the stone. Simon’s eyes focused upon one of the fresher markings: an intertwined G and S. 

“I know that it’s the way griffons go,” Gallus continued. “Keep our heads down and our beaks shut and that’s how we survive.” 

Simon grunted. 

“But I’m telling you now: that’s bullshit,” Gallus stated. “Since when do griffons let the bad guys walk all over us? We’re supposed to be proud about letting our neighbors get hurt?” 

Simon was silent. Even the constant music of the city seemed to have faded, as if Ponyville itself was listening to them. 

Gallus sighed. “Simon…c’mon. Just talk to me.” 

Simon looked around with a shiver as the wind rustled through the park, checking every shadow for any sign of eavesdroppers. When he saw no one, he sighed and stepped forward. 

“Okay, listen,” he whispered into Gallus’ ear. “A couple of days ago, there was this big earth pony in a fedora at a tavern and he was asking some of the other workers about a ship that’s coming in tomorrow night. The Krasnyy Oktyabr’ from Thrussia. He was asking about this crate; from what I overheard, it’s gonna be put straight on an armored car to Canterlot.” 

He took the ball back from Gallus. “Now get out of here before someone sees us.” 

“If you need to talk, you know where I am,” Gallus smiled before turning and heading off. 

Behind him, he heard a few thumps of the basketball against the asphalt and then the swish of the ball passing through the net, a note of the symphony of Ponyville’s night.

He paused next to a rust-colored Diplomat 600 and leaned into the driver’s window. “I was right,” he declared with more than a hint of superiority. “He told me that one of Caballeron’s thugs asked about an armored car delivery tomorrow night.” 

Red Herring frowned pensively in the driver’s seat and slowly nodded. “Hmm. Well, that at least gives us some time to plan things out,” he mused. 

“Good work, Gallus,” Flash smiled from the passenger seat. 

“This mean I’m a detective now?” Gallus asked, his feathers standing up with pride. 

“You really want to deal with the extra paperwork, son?” Red asked with a quirked eyebrow. 

Gallus deflated like a punctured tire, his face creasing with disgust. “Ugh, no thanks.” 

Red chuckled. “All right, get in the back. We got work to do.” 


The night of the 30th of the Moon of Cold lived up to its name, with a biting wind blowing in from the east. The gusts cast layers of snow over the streets of Ponyville, blanketing the sidewalks and chasing the citizens into the safety and warmth of their homes. 

But the Dockside District never slept nor slowed for a little snow. Beneath the glow of heavy-duty lamps, workers bundled up in heavy coats and gloves, scarves flapping in the wind, bustled up and down the gangplanks of a cargo ship docked against one of the piers. The flag of Thrussia--a pair of gold griffons and a shield embossed over blue, white, and red horizontal stripes--desperately clung to the rigging as the wind threatened to tear it away. The night was alive with sound; voices in a mix of Equestrian and Thrussian, the squeaking of wheels, grunts of effort, the whirring of cranes, and creaking of ropes. Seagulls flitted between lamps and other perches, waiting for somepony to drop a morsel for them to eat. 

Two stallions stood conspicuously out amongst all the other workers; a pair of earth ponies wearing heavy tan parkas with golden cloth badges, pistols holstered at their sides, stood on the deck next to the aft of the ship, a large cart waiting at their side. They fidgeted impatiently, frowning at the busy workers who were all ignoring them in favor of their own tasks, then scowled up at the ship. 

“Come on, it’s freezing,” the shorter gold one muttered, tugging his hat over his scarlet mane. 

“It’s one crate out of dozens,” the older blue earth pony replied, frost clinging to his lime-green beard as he spoke. “Give it some time.” 

“Oi!” a ruddy-faced griffon officer shouted from above, clouds billowing from his beak as he leaned over the railing. “We bring it up now!” 

“About time,” the gold stallion grumbled. 

The aft crane squeaked as it lifted a pallet carrying a single crate clear of the hatch. The solid metal box was about the size of a radio set, secured shut with a padlocked chain wrapped around its body. 

The crane lowered the pallet down to the waiting stallions, who reached up to guide the pallet onto the crate, securing it onto the metal. 

“Seems like a lot of trouble for some rocks,” the gold guard commented, unhooking the crane from the box. “Don’t you think, Limey?” 

“We just transport the shit, Doubloon,” his partner replied. 

Taking the handles, the two earth ponies grunted as they heaved it along the concrete pier. Instead of heading for the warehouse that the rest of the cargo was being placed into, they went around the warehouse to a parked armored car. 

“I got the door,” Limey declared, striding forward and pushing his jacket aside to reveal a bulletproof vest. He unclipped a set of keys from the belt beneath it, inserted it into the van’s back door, and unlatched it, swinging it open. 

Six pairs of eyes stared back at him. 

Limey frowned at his unexpected passengers, his gaze lingering over the scowling unicorn mare with the broken, sparking horn, but said nothing as he turned back to the cart. 

“Like I said,” Doubloon muttered, helping his partner heave the locked crate off the cart and into the back. “Lot of fuss.” 

Phillip Finder helped them drag the crate into the car, then glanced out the back of the armored car. There was nopony in sight amongst the dark shadows of the alleyway that were cast by hanging lamps, save for a few gulls milling about on the rooftops. He nodded silently to the two guards, who grimly slammed the doors shut. 

In the darkness, he failed to notice a crystal lens glittering in the eye of one of the watching gulls. 

Gallus swallowed and shifted in his seat up against the wall, taking slow breaths. 

“You okay, Gallus?” Prowl asked. Through the window into the cab, she could see the two guards climbing into the car, the armored vehicle rocking slightly as they entered it.  

“‘M fine, Sarge,” Gallus replied as the engine coughed to life. Tires grated against the asphalt as the truck pulled up to the street, paused, and turned to head northwest. 

“You didn’t have to prove anything to anyone by coming on this,” Prowl said gently. “You could’ve been with the group waiting in the woods.” 

“Yes, I did have to come here,” Gallus replied, giving her a steady gaze despite the encroaching green color about his cheeks. “To myself.” 

Prowl smiled quietly and clapped Gallus on the shoulder. He gave her a thin smile in return as the car continued rumbling down the streets towards the precinct. 

“Now I know how the cheese in a trap feels,” Bumblebee said with a light, forced laugh. 

“Not many mousetraps have steel walls, Bee,” Prowl commented, reaching back and rapping the wall behind her with a solid thump. “We’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t get cocky,” Tempest Shadow warned. “If Sombra wants this amberclaw, he won’t care how many of us he has to kill to get it.” 

Bumblebee gulped, his face turning pale in an instant. 

“Which is why we’re here,” Daring Do answered, adjusting her pith helmet. “To make sure that doesn’t happen.” 

“No one’s gonna die,” Prowl nodded. “We’re gonna drop this amberclaw off at the station, then head out to the woods, get these guys, and go home safely. Right?” 

Tempest Shadow gave her a grim smile. “Your naivete is adorable.” 

Daring shifted in her seat slightly, her wingtips fluttering; the satchel that she, like the others, carried on her side rattled with her movement. 

“Dash is gonna be fine,” Phillip reassured her, reaching over to squeeze her hoof. “Red and Flash and the others are already there and she knows not to take unnecessary risks.” 

Daring gave Phillip a tight smile and squeezed his hoof in reply. 

The van suddenly jerked violently to one side, the wheels grinding against the slush-covered streets. Cries of protest and alarm erupted from every throat. 

“Driver, what the hell?” Prowl barked. 

“It’s not me!” Limey shouted back, grunting as he wrestled with the wheel. “The wheel…something’s pulling it!” There was a pair of heavy thumps, then an increasingly alarmed cry. "The brakes don’t work!” 

Every creatures' heart dropped into their stomach. 

“They’re onto us,” Tempest growled. 

Prowl clicked on her walkie-talkie. “Dispatch, this is Rook Seven, do you read?” she reported. 

Dead silence. Not even static answered her, even after she clicked it on and off a couple of times.

“Radio’s being jammed,” the thestral reported through her teeth. 

“So is ours!” Doubloon reported from up front, his voice cracking from panic. 

“Fuck,” Gallus breathed. 

The tires suddenly screeched as the vehicle swerved into a side road, then the engine roared as it accelerated uncontrollably. “Dead end!” Doubloon shouted in alarm. “Brace!” 

Phillip’s arms wrapped around Daring as he shoved her to the floor, covering her with his body. Prowl shoved her two companions to the ground, with Tempest Shadow diving on top of the entire group. 

The armored car slammed into the wall with a crash that sounded like the sky was coming down on their head. Daring’s vision whited out for a moment as pain reverberated across her entire body, her bones rattling from the impact. The wheels of the van lifted up off the ground for a moment, then slammed back down to the ground. The scent of smoke filled her nostrils as a great hissing filled her ears like a den of angered vipers. 

She lifted her head with a groan as Phillip pushed himself off her. The others were all slowly lifting themselves off the ground as well. The interior light had snapped off; the only illumination was the blue flickering off Tempest’s horn. 

“If you’re not dead, sound off,” she grunted, pulling herself off the others. 

“I see why you’re not a doctor,” Bumblebee groaned from near the bottom of the pony pile. Flashlights were removed, switched on, and secured to shoulder straps, illuminating the interior of the van. The ponies and griffon were all massaging their bruises and grimacing. The box of amberclaw had slid to the front of the van but was still securely locked. 

Prowl let out a little squeak. “The drivers aren’t moving,” she reported, her ears twitching. “They’re both breathing,” she added a moment later, the relief evident in her tone. 

“Doctor’s here. Masks on,” Phillip ordered, grabbing for the satchel at his side. 

There was a rustling of leather as the others all removed the gas masks from the bags and tugged them over their faces, tightening the straps. The sound of heavy, muffled breathing filled the dark metal interior. 

“Stay where you are,” Prowl ordered through her mask, her sidearm strapped tight to her fetlock. “Let them come to us.” 

“Right,” Gallus panted, thumbing back the hammer of his trembling .38 Naudant revolver. “We’ll just stay trapped in the closed metal box and wait for the bad guys to come after us.” 

“They’ll just burn through the door and come in here,” Tempest Shadow declared, her Neighrettas glowing in the darkness as she pulled them out of her holsters. “We need to go on the offensive!” 

“You’re not in charge here, Tempest,” Prowl snapped back. “My job is to keep us safe--” 

“And my job is to get Starlight back!” Tempest shouted back, standing. “If you’re not going to--” 

The armored car suddenly lurched violently, sending everypony tumbling with cries of alarm. The car settled back onto its wheels and was instantly struck from the other side like a giant was bashing at the vehicle. 

“What the hell?!” Bumblebee shouted. “Do they have a dinosaur out there?!”

Metal suddenly cracked and groaned, the terrible noise scraping against their ears. Looking up, they saw that the reinforced roof and the walls were starting to warp and collapse, like they were inside a soda can that was slowly being crushed.  

Gallus let out a shriek and dove for the back doors, throwing them open and diving out into the snow. The others all followed him, tumbling out of the collapsing van in a heap of flailing limbs. 

Daring Do took to the sky, the cold wind biting into her wings as she snapped her head to every corner. They were at the end of a long blind alley, snow cascading from the sky and covering every surface. Graffiti-strewn brick walls stretched up like canyon walls on three sides, stretching up towards the dark sky. Tire tracks marked their progress up the alley, which was populated only by a few dumpsters and boxes. The only lights were their own flashlight beams cutting through the falling snow. 

Gallus was shivering on the ground and dry heaving; Prowl was trying to exhort him back to his claws, her ears twitching every which way as she did so. Bumblebee was trying to pull the warped car open to rescue the drivers. Tempest was standing on her hind legs, a castfire pistol in both hooves; behind her, Phillip had turned to look back at the armored car. Daring saw him stiffen up in shock and turned as well. 

Smoke was rising from the armored car’s smashed hood, but the back was still in its original shape. 

She sucked in a breath with the realization. “The gas,” she said, pulling her mask off and flinging it aside in disgust. “The masks don’t work.” 

Pale green light suddenly swarmed down like rain, glowing needles stabbing the six figures beneath before exploding with bursts of blinding light. Daring flinched as a dozen mosquitoes bit at her skin. A gentle heat pressed against her chest as the ward in her vest deflected the offensive magic. 

Every head turned up to the rooftops just in time to see a head ducking out of sight; their assailant was barely visible through the tint of their gas masks’ lenses, but they all noticed the horn atop their head. 

“Starlight,” Tempest breathed, holstering one of her pistols and pulling the mirror from her pocket. She tugged the gas mask off and flung it aside with a grunt. 

Tearing her mask off as well, Prowl let out another chirp. “There’s two up there,” she declared, her ears wiggling. “Unicorn and a pegasus. I--” 

Chains constructed of solid light suddenly shot down from up above, snaking through the air with a great rattling. Bumblebee was seized before he could blink, the chains wrapping around his limbs like pythons. “Shit!” he gasped, toppling over onto his side, flailing like a caught fish. 

Prowl and Gallus both tried to dodge, but their wings and limbs were ensnared, sending them crashing to the ground with curses and grunts of pain. Tempest leaped from side to side with seemingly impossible agility; waves of blue lightning crackled from her horn with an angry buzzing, beating back the incoming chains. Where the lightning struck the walls and the ground, it turned the snow into clouds of steam and left hissing scorch marks. 

Gallus yelped as one of the bolts scorched the ground near him, withdrawing his tail. “Watch it!” he shouted. 

Phillip and Daring leaped away from the chains that darted after them, Daring twisting in midair as Phillip performed a pair of hoofsprings to avoid the magical snares that snapped at his limbs. The two landed next to Tempest as she backed up from her own attackers. 

An idea sparked in Daring’s mind. “Circle!” she shouted, landing next to her two companions. 

The attacking chains regrouped, twisting in midair like a den of cobras drawing back to strike, then launched themselves at the trio. The three ponies each dragged a hoof through the snow around them, forming a solid circumference. 

Phillip and Tempest both bit down on their hooves, cringing as the taste of blood filled their mouths; Daring tugged a feather from her wing with her teeth, wincing as she transferred the feather to her hoof. As one, they slammed their hooves onto the circle, channeling their will through blood and feather into the construct. 

The turquoise chains rocketed towards them, then shattered in midair like they’d struck an invisible wall, the pieces tumbling to the snowy ground and vanishing into flickers that snapped out. The three ponies all sighed in relief. 

More light flared from the end of the alley and they turned to see a unicorn mare in a hooded jacket telekinetically pulling the crate from the back of the armored car. 

“Starlight!” Tempest shouted and raced towards her friend, nearly outrunning Phillip’s boomerang as it whistled through the air. 

Starlight turned and fired a spell, the illumination revealing her blank, cold expression. Tempest dodged to the side, ricocheting off the wall and lunging towards Starlight. 

Both she and the boomerang missed as the unicorn mare vanished in a flash of light and reappeared behind Tempest. 

With a snarl of frustration, Tempest whirled about and raised her hoof. Emerald light shone from the mirror in her grasp, reflecting in Starlight’s eyes, which suddenly widened as they locked onto the beam. Her mouth dropped open into an expression of dawning horror and she raised a hoof to step forward. 

“Torna a casa, Starlight,” Tempest pleaded, stepping forward to meet her. “Torna a cas--” 

“Tempest!” Daring warned too late. 

Black wings streaked through the snowy sky and Tempest grimaced in pain as the mirror was torn from her grasp and shattered against the ground. 

“No!” Tempest roared, opening fire with both pistols at the bird. Bolts of castfire from her pistol illuminated the alleyway, each shot echoing off the dark walls, but the raven vanished over the rooftops. 

Starlight shook her head, then her eyes narrowed as her horn illuminated. A wave of light burst from her, shoving Tempest, Daring, and Phillip back. Tempest grunted as she was slammed against the wall, crumpling to the ground with a wheeze; her castfire pistols flew into the darkness out of reach. 

Phillip and Daring both tucked and rolled as they hit the ground, regaining their hooves. Daring grunted and clutched her chest, her fractured ribs flaring in protest. 

Starlight turned back to the armored car, pulling the crate forward. A glowing blue key appeared in midair and inserted itself into the lock, which snapped open. Starlight opened the crate to reveal its contents: stacks of translucent yellowish rocks, the color and texture of solid honey. 

“Starlight, no!” Tempest cried, ramming into the other unicorn and knocking her aside. Starlight tried to force Tempest off her, only to grimace as Tempest forced her into an armlock, pushing her to the ground. 

Phillip and Daring stepped forward, then leaped back as a cloud of smoke burst before them. The two hesitated, half-raising their guns. 

A massive shadow shifted within the smoke, their flashlights casting it into a horribly suggestive shape…then a limb lunged out towards them, its blue fur matted, gore dripping from the rotting fingers. 

Phillip dodged too late. He gagged as his attacker’s chain wrapped around his neck, reeling him in like a fish on a line, then howled as a blade cleaved through his left foreleg, sending his gun to the ground in a spray of crimson. 

“No!” Daring screamed as the Plague Doctor pulled Phillip into a chokehold, the curved blade darting up to his neck. The Doctor backed up against the wall, holding his hostage tight with his right forearm; his left snapped up to Daring, the barrel of the suppressed .38 on his foreleg centering on her forehead. 

With a yelp, Daring dove aside, her ribs flaring in pain as she leaped behind a dumpster. Bullets smacked into the wall inches behind her with a trio of sharp coughs. “Tempest!” she screamed. 

Tempest looked up and froze at the sight before her. The masked pegasus glared at her over his hostage’s shoulder, keeping his gun on Daring’s cover. 

Tempest’s hesitation cost her when Starlight’s head slammed into her chin; blood filled her mouth as she bit down on her tongue, instinctively releasing Starlight. The other unicorn pulled away from her, coughing and massaging her neck. 

Her heart leaping to her throat, Tempest looked back and forth between the Doctor and Starlight, who was looking towards the dumpster with her horn alight. “Hey!” Daring protested as her gun was pulled from her foreleg and tossed down the alleyway, clattering down the asphalt. 

Her face emotionless once more, Starlight turned back to the armored car; pulling a bag from her pocket, she began to hurriedly fill it with amberclaw. Around her, the three officers grunted and cursed as they continued to struggle against their bonds. 

“Damn you,” Tempest snarled at the Plague Doctor. He sneered back at her through the beaked mask, gloating silently as Phillip grimaced, his blood still running down his foreleg onto the snow. 

Starlight closed the bulging bag and the red-breasted raven swooped down and snatched the bag from her, flying up into the shadows.

Daring started to poke her head out from behind her cover, only to duck back down as another bullet whistled past her. “Fucker!” she gasped, fear and anger cracking through her voice. 

Starlight trotted past Tempest, giving the other unicorn a glance as she passed. Energy crackled from Tempest’s broken horn, reflecting in Starlight’s blue irides; for a moment, she paused, recognition flickering in her eyes…a specter of realization and fear. 

“Starlight,” Tempest pleaded, reaching out and grasping her upper foreleg. 

The moment passed and Starlight shook her off with a grunt, proceeding towards the Plague Doctor like an obedient dog. Victory glowed in his scarlet eyes as he stared back and forth between Tempest and Daring, keeping the knife at Phillip’s neck. 

Phillip locked eyes with Tempest; his expression was a stony mask of forced calm even though his nostrils flared with rapid breath that turned to heavy mist before him. 

His gray eyes flicked to Starlight. In the heartbeat between Starlight’s steps, a plan formed in Tempest’s head. 

Daring poked her head out from behind the dumpster again, rage on her face. The masked pegasus turned towards her, his weapon coming about. 

Tempest lunged, front hooves stamping down onto the snow next to Starlight. The blue eyes turned towards her as she, in a motion that she’d drilled into herself so many times that she could perform it in her sleep, shifted her weight onto her back hooves, twisted, and sent her right elbow into Starlight’s jaw. Blood flew from Starlight’s mouth as the impact shuddered through Tempest’s armored foreleg. 

Tempest winced, silently begging for Starlight to forgive her as she followed up with a hammer blow to the jaw. The blow echoed through the alley, sending Starlight spinning to the ground with a grunt. 

An earsplitting crack tore through the cold air as Daring snapped her whip out, ensnaring the Doctor’s gun arm. A muted gunshot struck the ground as Daring pulled the weapon from his limb, a sneer of victory crossing her face. 

The Plague Doctor’s snarl of frustration turned into a wheezing grunt as Phillip tugged the curved blade away from his neck and thrust his elbow back into his foe’s armored chest. Phillip pulled away from the assassin’s grasp, yelling in furious pain as the curved blade cut through his cheek; he tumbled out of range, leaving a trail of red in the slush behind him. 

“Die!” Tempest shouted, drawing a throwing ax, raising it to the sky, and throwing it all in a single flowing motion. The glowing ax tumbled through the air towards its target, joined by the whistling of Daring’s boomerang. 

A cloud of yellow smoke blossomed from the Plague Doctor’s bandolier, obscuring him from sight. Daring’s boomerang arced around to return to her hoof as Tempest’s ax thumped into the brick wall. 

Tempest snapped her hoof out and summoned the ax back to her as the three ponies all stared into the cloud as it dispersed to reveal…

Nothing. 

“Where’d he go?” Daring shouted, looking about, checking every shadow twice. 

Prowl’s ears wiggled, but she shook her head. “He’s gone,” she reported. 

The howl of incoming sirens filled the alleyway as Tempest bent down over the still-unconscious Starlight, gently cradling her and lifting her up onto her back. Daring darted to Phillip’s side, hissing as she examined his wounds. “Shit,” she breathed, getting out her first aid kit. 

“Looks worse than it is,” Phillip reassured her, trying to smile and instantly learning that that was a bad idea when his bloodied face flared with pain. 

“Uh…” Bumblebee said, rattling the chains that he was still trapped in. “Any idea how to untie us?”