//------------------------------//
// Long Limbs of the Law 
// Story: Wild Card: Two of A Kind 
// by Barrel-of-fun 
//------------------------------//

Earlier that year.

Detective First Class Rosamund glided gently through the air as she approached Trottingham. Despite the freezing winds and morose fog that always seemed to surround Trottingham, it was by far one of the most pleasurable flights that she had ever had. Not because of the journey of course, that was by far one of the worst, but the destination more than made up for it. 

For the last six months, she and the two other members of her agency, Brain Storm and Brow Beat, had been on the trail of one of the world’s most elusive thieves. Normally, this would be no trouble. After all, the title of ‘World’s Most Elusive Thief’ gets banded about a lot in the criminal underworld of Equestria. It probably had something to do with cutie marks, the griffoness reckoned. Any two bit pocket picker with a theft-related cutie mark on his rear would proclaim himself to be the ‘World’s Greatest Thief’ at the drop of a hat. Ponies have a lot of good points, but subtlety was not one of them.

But this one was a bit of an oddity. For one thing, he wasn't a pony, meaning he had no ego-inflating cutie mark to blame for his complete lack of subtlety regarding his profession. Another problem was that everyone she talked to had no idea what he was exactly. The best answer she had managed to get was ‘some sort of wimpy, half-naked minotaur maybe?’ It was distressing times indeed if one of Canterlot’s best detective agencies had to go on a ‘maybe’. 

Still, despite the difficulty he had posed, despite the dead ends and complete lack of leads, despite the humiliation of that one time that she had been deliberately led into the middle of a young foal’s birthday party dressed as a clown, she had managed to track him down. Well, to be specific, Brain Storm had managed to track him down, but she would be the one to capture him. 

Which was why she had flown ahead of the other two, leaving them to trundle across country in a cart. Brain Storm might be a genius but he was no fighter and, despite being a pegasus, was about as graceful in the air as a rock that had somehow been bestowed the power of flight. As for Brow Beat, well the old earth pony stallion might be experienced but there was no way that he could match a young griffoness in a fight, not to mention that he was getting a bit slow in his old age, no matter what he insisted.

So she’d gone on ahead. A smile pulled at her beak as she imagined how, by the time her two colleagues got to Trottingham, she would have the perpetrator in chains and ready to be carted off to Canterlot. 

Grin still plastered over her beak, she flexed her talons and began to dive down towards the city, where a Guard informant had recently spotted the easily recognized figure of Ace, trickster, magician and known thief.





Many people, and ponies for that matter, did not take the time out of their lives to enjoy the little things in life. They considered themselves far too important and busy to breath in the flowers, hear the laughter of small children and bask in the warmth of a burning warehouse.

It was the last little activity that the satyr thief known as Ace, former human and recently revealed demigod, was now enjoying. Not that his full attention was on the warehouse though. Only a few months prior he had made the agonizing decision to leave his friends, Summer Storm and Iron Will, in Manehatten so that they could enjoy their lives whilst he went on alone. This decision came just after finding out that the goddess Fortuna, also known as Lady Luck and the being who had brought him to this world, was actually his mother. Hence the whole ‘demigod’ thing. Not that the universe had seen fit to grant him any awesome demigod powers or anything, freaking cheapskate universe. No, Hercules gets super strength and the ability to punch stuff really well and what does he get? Being lucky.

Oh, and goat’s legs. Couldn't forget about the goat’s legs.

He had tried a couple of times to see if any other powers had manifested themselves whilst he hadn’t been paying attention. The confusion on his opponents face when he tried to breath ice over them was almost worth the near ass kicking he received when it turned out his didn’t have frost breath but instead regular old air breath. That fight sucked.

Still life wasn’t all bad. The last couple of months, despite being lonely, had definitely not been dull. Ever since Manehatten he had been on the trail of a group of ponies that he called the Black Brew Smugglers. Because they were smugglers. Who dealt in Black Brew. The name was appropriate, if a little unimaginative. He had hit operations in Stalliongrad and Maneapolis so far, making this particular burning warehouse his third. He couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed at the sheer scale of the operation he had encountered. Though all three of his attacks so far had been complete successes, he still felt like he was barely scratching the surface of a very big iceburg. It was obvious that this operation wasn’t just big, but highly competent as well. They were very accomplished at hiding themselves from regular law enforcement, sometimes even existing right next door to them, such as they had in Maneapolis. It was only through sheer strokes of luck that Ace had managed to catch the trail of each one that he had so far. 

As was becoming increasingly obvious to him, this was far more than a one man operation. He would need a team of trained professionals. The best of the best that the criminal underworld had to offer. But where in the world could he find such a team? It’s not like he had access to the same connections he had back on Earth. Back in jolly old London it would only take him a few phone calls to get a few good people together for a job. But here? It would take months to find the right people, maybe even years.

“Freeze! Put your…limbs? Yeah, that works. Put your limbs in the air!” A voice sounded from behind him, clearly unsure but desperately trying to be commanding.

The satyr span round, arms flung in the air and a wide grin on his face as he beheld the young Guardspony that was pointing a spear at him.

“I assure you officer I had absolutely nothing to do with this here conflagration.” 

The stallion’s eyes strayed to the matches that were clearly visible in his hand.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. These matches? Merely circumstantial evidence. I heard a disturbance and went out to investigate and I required these matches to light my way. It was then that I found this warehouse ablaze.”

The Guard looked around at the neighborhood, which was so brightly lit by the fire that it could well have been used to signal passing aliens. 

“Really?!”

“Of course. And there isn’t a witness around who could tell you otherwise.” He had made sure of that beforehand.

Suddenly a screaming stallion ran past, his mane ablaze as he galloped past the duo. It appeared to be one of the gangsters Ace had knocked out and moved outside before setting the warehouse ablaze. Evidently he had chosen to go back inside, probably to try and rescue some of their product. As he passed the two, he was screaming at the top of his lungs:

“IT WAS HIM! IT WAS ALL THAT GUY’S FAULT! THE ONE WHO LOOKS LIKE A WIMPY, HALF-NAKED MINOTAUR!”

“Now that was just rude.” Ace commented before looking back at the Guardspony, who had adopted a distinctly more aggressive stance. “Oh, right yes. How does this go? I surrender?” He announced, dropping the matches to the ground before getting on to his knees, his hands in the air and his head bowed.

This was not at all how he had imagined his night going.