//------------------------------//
// The One Witness 
// Story: It's A Wonderful Case 
// by Winged Cat 
//------------------------------//

It was easy to forget at times, but Canterlot was a city into itself.  Streets upon streets, stores opening and closing frequently enough that one might never be aware of a specific establishment during its entire existence despite living only two or three street crossings away, and certainly more residents than even Celestia herself could personally be familiar with.  Canterlot was not the biggest city in all Equestria, but it was more than big enough to call itself a city.

If one lived long enough in a such a place, eventually one had moments that drove home the sheer scale of it all.  Blueblood now experienced such a moment.  Or indigestion, mixed with the cloying aftertaste of that place Twilight had dragged him to when he had suggested a break for lunch.  It catered to a younger crowd, and while Blueblood did not doubt Twilight had many prized memories there, they would have been from her residence of years prior before she grew into the adult, let alone the alicorn, she was now.

But Blueblood suspected this moment was the city's.  Answers, even so much as a single witness, simply refused to turn up after hours of searching.  It took more than lunch to pull that off, even with a milkshake.  At least she had agreed to sit at a bench outside the restaurant, where the stench of quickly prepared cheap food was much less, though Blueblood could still detect a hint of the vegetable oils they cooked the hayburgers in.

Twilight was going over her checklist, now a scroll easily three times her length, two bites remaining of her hayburger on a small white paper plate in front of her.  Blueblood could not find a solid objection to recording fine minutiae of a case, although Twilight's method seemed to incur a lot of duplication and steps more fine grained than he would ordinarily take note of.  As she began her third runthrough, Blueblood interrupted, "I must say, you seem to have calmed down from this morning."

It was three seconds before Twilight put her scroll down and looked at him.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you seem more focused on the case, instead of being distracted from your unpleasant encounter."

"Believe me, I still want to figure out how she got under my skin like that."

"Hmm, yes, well if you are calmer now I can safely tell you what she told me after you left, and my theory.  That transducer of yours, could it tune to changeling magic?  Say, telepathy?"

"Telepa-"  Twilight blinked.  "Yes.  Yes it could!  Oh, you think it's tuned to Ling?"

"She told me she was telepathic with Rainbow Dash, though she can not hear Miss Dash now.  You are more familiar with changelings than I, but aren't they known for hive minds?"

Twilight's eyes widened.  "Yes!  Not all changelings, some of them don't have it, but some live in mental communion with their families all their lives, being cut off is a fate worse than death.  It cripples them.  Are you suggesting Ling stole my transducer?"

Blueblood shook his head.  "No, from what I have heard I rather suspect Rainbow Dash may have made off with it.  She knew where it was and how to operate it, yes?"

Twilight sighed.  "Yeah.  And she would, if she had a good reason."

"You said a cut off changeling is crippled?  Perhaps she found such a changeling and used it in an act of mercy, forming a one pony, one changeling hive.  That would logically have put her in proximity to Rainbow Dash, perhaps close enough to acquire some of her feathers...and maybe blood, if there was some sort of blood sisters ritual."

"Hmm."  Twilight levitated her hayburger, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully, swallowing before speaking.  "It's a bit of a stretch.  There was too much blood for that.  But it's one theory."  She glanced over her scroll.  "How does that figure in to the sightings of Ling?  We've talked to all the merchants, and they say she did something that negatively affected their stores but I can't figure out what."

"Tsk."  Blueblood sighed.  "You really have been away from Canterlot for a while.  What Ling did that was so objectionable, Councilor Sparkle, was simply to walk in the front door as a changeling."

Twilight gave Blueblood a flat look.

"It's true!  Changelings are, shall we say, not of the social elite just now.  They may tolerate pegasi and earth ponies because those who won't tend not to remain successful merchants, but give them an excuse to hate someone and they will.  They make a hue and cry of being nervous when a changeling is around, but that is entirely upon them.  Still, mercantile activity requires both customer and merchant, and nervous customers are less likely to buy nonessential goods.  It is entirely on that theory that they claim damage."

Twilight facehoofed.  "Or as Rainbow Dash would put it, they freaked out just because the changeling was hanging around.  That is exactly the kind of prank she would pull if she had a chance.  A rogue changeling would be all the chance she'd need."

"Indeed, and that corroborates with how Ling put it.  So that is part of the mystery solved.  Now if only we could figure out what happened to Rainbow Dash herself.  Ling was of less assistance there, I am afraid."

"That's...worrying.  If Rainbow Dash was in a hive mind with Ling, and Ling can't speak to her now, then..."  Twilight absently finished off her hayburger.  "We needsh a witnesh."  She gulped.

Without delay, Blueblood levitated the detritus of their lunch into a nearby trash bin and began walking away from the restaurant.  His nostrils soon ceased smelling the oil, which was all the gratitude he sought from them.  "Spitfire reported the murder.  Let us check in on her."

Twilight glanced over her list one more time before packing it away, hiding it under her mane.  "That's on my list after inspecting the crime scene.  You'd think a crater would be easy to find."

Blueblood chuckled.  "Alas, Councilor Sparkle, there is no more crime scene.  The inspectors were quite thorough about collecting the blood and feathers, and the crater will have restored itself by now to a smooth and even surface.  Countless ponies have doubtless already trod right through it, not suspecting a thing."

Twilight facehoofed.  "That's right.  Sorry, I've gotten so used to Ponyville's dirt paths.  So I guess we move on to Spitfire, but she's on leave and I don't have her home address."

"Actually I have a theory about that.  Do you know how close she was to the deceased?"

Twilight looked at the sky, thinking.  "Spitfire's stuck her neck out for Rainbow Dash at least once that I know of, and they met when Rainbow Dash saved Spitfire's life.  I'd say that was a good first impression."

Blueblood abruptly turned left.  "Then I believe I know her whereabouts."

"You do?"  Twilight followed without missing a step.

"I do, and I rather suspect it is a deduction that you would make too if you had the same information.  Ahem.  Spitfire is a professional, working class pony.  The Wonderbolts are not that many, so they are all something akin to family to her, except for those dishonorably discharged.  If you were to lose a sister or a brother, where would you go?"

Silence.

Blueblood looked back.  "Twilight?"

Twilight was frozen, eyes unseeing, but recovered before Blueblood could double back.  She trotted quickly to catch up.  "Sorry.  It's just...I almost did lose Shining Armor once, to the changelings as it turned out."

Blueblood winced.  "Oh.  Right, sorry for forgetting.  I did not mean to stir such memories.  I do not recall reports of you at the bar during the incident, though."

Twilight blinked.  "Why would I go to the bar?"

"Ah, Twilight, you are a true joy.  Unlike you and I, many ponies turn to, shall we say, chemical support in times of emotional crisis."

"Chemical sup-"  Twilight looked up as Blueblood led her toward the door of a bar.  "Oh.  'What would Applejack do,'" she deadpanned.

"Indeed.  And there is exactly one such place in the immediate vicinity of Wonderbolts Headquarters."  He walked in and looked around.

From how Twilight began to study the place, Blueblood knew she had seen bars before, but not many.  Although undoubtedly she preferred to spend her leisure time clear-headed in academic pursuits, her friends would have made quite certain she knew what it was like to get drunk.  This was the sort of establishment Rarity might have dragged her to: black and white oblong diamond floor tiles, various shades of grey and white up the walls and ceiling, tables everywhere and no booths.  The only color was the red velvet lined stools and seats, faded pictures of celebrities who had visited the place over the years on the walls, the collection of bottles behind the main bar counter, and of course the ponies themselves.  Given the afternoon hour, verified by a marble-and-onyx analog clock set above the bar, it did not surprise Blueblood that, other than the black-and-white bartender in his red vest and snooty little moustache, only a single pony sat at the bar.

He considered Spitfire an acquaintance, if not a friend.  "Controlled", "in charge", "no nonsense", and "always alert" were among the terms he would use to describe her.  That was not the pegasus his eyes now beheld.  Spitfire sat on a stool, her upper half sprawled over the bar counter, five empty mugs next to her.  Her mane, tail, and blue jacket were disheveled, with dried tear streaks under her eyes.  Shades sat on the bar next to her nose, apparently where they had fallen off.  Currently she was struggling to lift a hoof to gesture in the general direction of the bartender.  "I'll hic tell yoush hic whensh I've had hic 'nough," came slurred words from her mouth, but the barkeep was ignoring her.

"It seems my suspicions were correct," Blueblood muttered.  He walked up to the bar, Twilight following, and gently stamped on it with a hoof.  "Bartender!"

The barkeep turned around, jumping slightly in surprise.  He was a burly earth pony, white with black mane, hooves moving a rag along a mug as if not just drying but polishing it.  Lines of worry etched the stallion's face, but a few of them vanished as he saw Blueblood.  "Oh thank Celestia!  Tell me you're here for Spitfire!"

"In a manner of speaking.  One Tongue Stiffener for our friend here."

The bartender reached below the bar and rummaged.  "Coming right up.  Don't tell her, she's one of my best customers, but I always make sure I have one ready when any Wonderbolt starts binging."  He pulled up a sealed shot glass with a red, bubbling concoction.  The moment he tore the lid off it, it began fuming and Twilight's eyes began watering.

Out of more practice than he cared to admit, Blueblood quickly snatched it up and carried it under his chin, then quickly moved to Spitfire's side so the wind of his passage would keep the fumes from his nose, then stuck it under Spitfire's nostrils.  The moment she opened her mouth to protest, he chucked the concoction into her mouth.

Out of what Blueblood assumed was more practice than she cared to admit, Twilight ducked under the bar.

Spitfire stopped gesturing, and began focusing cross-eyed on her leg.

Blueblood mentally counted to five before Twilight began getting out from under the bar.  "She's not going to go off?"

Blueblood looked back at Twilight with a smile.  "I do not know what recipes you are familiar with, perhaps ones more tuned for emergency restoration of full physical capabilities, but here in Canterlot we employ sophisticated remedies.  Once this conversation is done, she will be severely fatigued, such that she will barely be able to walk home with an escort..."  He looked at the bartender, who nodded.  "...to sleep it off.  She will not, as you say, 'go off'."

Spitfire blinked, eyes still a bit unfocused.  "Whu's goin' on?  Where'm I?"

Blueblood leaned into her field of view.  "You're safe, Spitfire.  We just need you to answer a few questions."

"Oh!  Bluey!"  She slowly turned her head to look at him.  "There's...there's been some trouble.  I think...Twily!"  Spitfire smiled, leaned sideways, fell out of her seat, flapped her wings to catch her fall, hovered over to Twilight, and wrapped the alicorn up in a hug with unsteady legs.  "It's...it's awful."  She buried her eyes in Twilight's mane.  "Rainbow Dash...I, I think she's hurt."

Twilight hugged Spitfire back.  "We're here to take care of it.  But we need to know what happened.  Can you tell us what you saw?"

"It, it was that changeling."  Spitfire sniffed.  "I'm sure of it."

Blueblood pulled out a pouch and set it on the bar, eliciting a quick series of clinks from the many coins within.  "Take her tab out of that.  Miss Spitfire, please, tell us what makes you so positive it was her."

"'Cause she said so.  She said she was gonna snack on Rainbow Dash if I didn't race her."

Gears clicked in Blueblood's mind.  "Come again?  Or, better yet, from the beginning.  When was the first time you saw this changeling?"

"Y, yesterday."  Spitfire tried to stand up, but her legs wobbled.  With Twilight's assistance, she slid into leaning on a bar stool.  "It was yesterday.  I know how to be hard and mean to train ponies, but sometimes that just doesn't work, you know?  I've been trained to be a fighter, and a stunt flier, but I've been guessing my way through commanding.  Don't tell her I said this, but this one time we were trying to teach some colts and fillies, I really didn't know what to do.  It scared me, but Rainbow Dash saved me once again.  So I figured, why not learn from her?  I wanted to just ask her to show me how to do better, but all I could get out was asking her help setting up training."

Twilight peered at the bartender.  "This Tongue Stiffener isn't a truth potion, is it?"

"Not at all," he reassured her as he collected Spitfire's mugs.  "That would be the alcohol.  A Tongue Stiffener just makes her able to speak clearly."

"I guess we're both stubborn," Spitfire continued.  "Eventually we just blew up at each other, so I suggested we take an hour to cool down.  One hour turned into two, and Soarin mentioned a changeling had been spotted in town, but I was waiting for Rainbow Dash to get back.  I was taking out my frustration on my punching slate so I could think of how to apologize to her while chewing her out for being late, when the changeling just shows up at my door, says she's taken Rainbow Dash prisoner, says she'll let her go if I race her.  She was being all snide and snarky about it."

Blueblood borrowed Twilight's scroll and quill and began taking notes at the bottom of the checklist, earning him a dirty look from Twilight.  Upon noticing Spitfire had stopped talking, Blueblood urged, "Go on."

"No one."  Blueblood looked up.  "Threatens."  He recognized on Spitfire's face, the same look of determination Twilight had shown him earlier.  "MY.  Wonderbolts."  Spitfire took in a breath; when she exhaled, it reeked of booze, but she was now steady enough to sit up properly.  "I lunged at her, trying to catch her then and there, but she was fast.  Really fast.  Like, could have given Rainbow Dash a run for her money fast.  So she got her race, me chasing her down the hall, outside, around town...and I could tell she was slowing down now and again, leading me on.  I couldn't keep up with her all day, so when she went above one large cloud, I sneaked below it, and tracked her by her shadow.  I got behind her, popped up, and..."  She rubbed her forehooves against each other.  "I don't think I've hit anything that hard, ever.  And then I...I..."  Abruptly, her confidence and surety left.  She sank to the floor, face in her hooves.  "I messed up.  I'm..."  She sniffed.  "I'm so sorry, Rainbow Dash, I messed up and got you killed."

Twilight hugged Spitfire, gently running a hoof through Spitfire's mane.  "Shh, there there, just tell us what happened."

"I'm a failure.  I followed my training, and, a-and..."  Spitfire gulped.

"No one's blaming you."  Blueblood busied himself writing notes, but slowly, tentatively reached over to Spitfire, laying a reassuring hoof on her shoulder.  "Just tell us what you did."

"I hesitated.  I was mad, really mad, and when you're mad you make mistakes.  My training was to stop, catch my breath, calm down when that happens.  I...no one's ever made me so angry as that changeling did just then, threatening somepony under my command.  So I hesitated.  If I hadn't...b-by the time I dropped through the cloud, the changeling was getting away, and there were...oh Celestia, there were PIECES of Rainbow Dash all over.  I'd know those feathers anywhere."

Blueblood raised an eyebrow.  "Yes, that was in the crime report.  Some of the local merchants, attracted by the noise, came out and chased the changeling until I caught her.  Meanwhile, you fetched a guard.  Is that right?"

Spitfire nodded.  "I wanted to chase her down myself, but I knew if I did I might just kill her on the spot.  I never thanked you for catching her.  If you hadn't..."

Blueblood waved a hoof.  "No need to thank me.  One more question, please, about that 'punching slate' of yours.  Is it a section taken from the roads around here?"

"Yeah?  I mean, I'm no earth pony, but I could go hoof to hoof with one in a fight if I had to.  The self-repair spells mean I don't have to keep buying new punching bags, so it's more than paid for itself."

"I see.  Miss Spitfire, please do not doubt your training.  Indeed, unless I miss my guess, you should trust in it even more."

Spitfire blinked.  "But, but I..."

"Ssh.  Rest for now.  Councilor Sparkle or I shall follow up, but we are due in court..."  Blueblood glanced at the wall clock.  "...oh dear.  Councilor Sparkle, I do not suppose I could prevail upon you for a teleport to the courthouse?  We are almost late, and the defendant is likely already in the courtroom."

Twilight slowly disentangled herself from Spitfire.  "But we're still investigating."

"Court schedules wait for nopony.  I am afraid the final step shall have to occur during the trial, but I believe I have an unassailable defense that should satisfy even your need for justice."

"If you're sure."  Twilight put a hoof on his shoulder.  "I'm looking forward to seeing what kind of defen-"

One flash later, the bar fell silent.